#probably the longest post i've ever made

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

--------------

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

[froschli96]

You know what, fuck it, I have to speak my truth! (this is gonna be a rant, so anyone who actually likes assassin's creed revelations and/or the secret crusade, be warned or maybe don't read this at all)

remember how altaïr talks to king richard at the end of ac1, and richard is like "[humans] come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. it is what we are. we cannot help ourselves."? and how altaïr answers "no. we are what we choose to be." and how that ACTUALLY has meaning bc he himself was "violent and unstable" at the beginning of the game but he has learned and is now CHOOSING to be a better person who cares about others and humanity at large? remember how his calmness and gentleness was something that he ACQUIRED over the course of the story?

and remember how in revelations they then suddenly had a PRE-AC1 altaïr say about the first of his targets "no man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness." and be all wise and calm and collected during a nice little chat with al mualim, who suddenly acts all fatherly? (like, this is suddenly supposed to be a positive relationship? what??)

also, during the confession the target says to altair: "you put too much faith in the hearts of men, altaïr. [...] humans are weak, base, and petty." and altaïr answers: "no. our creed is evidence to the contrary." KJASJFJDKL???? like, it’s almost insulting how close this exchange is to the one with richard. you know, the one that was actually earned after a whole game of character development. like WTF??? cool congrats now that development means nothing. like, apparently that was just altaïr reverting BACK to being the exemplary assassin who understands and believes in the creed that he was apparently just born as. (i also hate how having a young inexperienced altaïr saying this implies that altaïr's faith in humanity is a sign of naivete instead of a sign of the wisdom he has gained after being confronted with counter arguments for a whole game, and also something that distinguishes the assassins from the templars who use humanity's supposed wickedness to justify controlling them like in AC1, but whatever)

altaïr’s development in AC1 mattered BECAUSE he is not NATURALLY a good person, it actually said something about humanity's capacity for both bad AND good and how humans don't have to be forced to be good through mind control bc they can by their own free will choose to be better when taught how and when allowed the freedom to grow. but no. apparently altaïr has just always been calm, wise and gentle. and he just sort of forgot about that during AC1 bc…. ? bc of adha?? bc of abbas???

oh don’t get me started on the whole abbas thing. (it doesnt even make sense that abbas is so hung up about his father and "his family’s honor", like what about the whole point of al mualim not allowing parents to be close to their children bc it would make them weak? like, my dude, you’re not supposed to HAVE any family aside from the brotherhood)

they used the throwaway character that had like 5 lines and made him into altaïr’s main antagonist in revelations… like, abbas wasn’t supposed to be this ONE dude who had personal beef with altaïr, he was just supposed to show how while altaïr’s revered by many, a lot of his brothers also hate him, bc 1) altaïr is a shitty person at this point and 2) bc there’s no real feeling of community and family in this version of the brotherhood, but just a pervasive sense of competition and jealousy — these assassins don’t care about their goal of safeguarding humanity bc they’re too hung up on petty squabbles and divided by rivalries (you know, the things that made malik hate altaïr even before solomon’s temple and that he overcomes in the end which enables him to forgive and to reconcile with altaïr so they can work together and stop al mualim? (you ever just think about "we are one. as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. in this way we grow closer. we grow stronger." and cry? bc i do. all the time. malik, the man that you are))

and now abbas is altaïr’s childhood best friend turned lifelong enemy?? like, bowden bent over backwards to come up with an explanation for why altaïr is an arrogant ass at the beginning of AC1, when the explanation is right there: he was raised to kill without asking questions and was constantly praised for how good he is at murder, which resulted in him becoming arrogant and disregarding human life. like, it doesn’t have to be some shakespearean family feud type shit. and guess what, this "simple" explanation actually plays into the story’s themes, who’da thunk!

(like, abbas might not have been a "fleshed out" character in AC1, but he had a specific function and now that function is gone. mr bowden, mr mcdevitt, you know characters are allowed to simply exist to tell us something about their worlds and the systems they live in and sometimes that’s more important and also more interesting than having every single character have a detailed backstory to explain all their behaviors, right?)

with all of this revelations loses all nuance in regards to the levantine brotherhood and also the creed in general. like, altaïr being a master assassin at the beginning despite being a terrible person and not actually understanding the creed is a criticism of the brotherhood and the creed itself. like, it said something about the order that someone like altaïr was able to get that high in rank, simply bc he's good at killing, which also tells us what is considered important in the al mualim era assassin order. when you make altaïr’s arrogance the result of his personal conflicts instead of how we was raised by a brotherhood that only valued one's ability to kill, you lose that characterization of the assassin order itself!

and by suddenly making al mualim a semi good "father figure" you also downplay his manipulation of not only altaïr but all those under his care. (altaïr says something about al mualim being "as a father" to him exactly twice in the codex, but he doesn’t mean by that that he WAS a father to him, what he means is that he was the CLOSEST THING he had bc HE DID NOT HAVE PARENTS, not because his mother died in childbirth and his father was executed when he was young btw, BUT BECAUSE IT WASN’T ALLOWED, like his parents actually lived but weren’t allowed to be close to him, he says he came to view al mualim’s "weak and dishonest" love as enough and even better BECAUSE HE HAD NOTHING ELSE, BECAUSE AL MUALIM ISOLATED HIS ASSASSINS FROM THEIR FAMILIES. al mualim "loved" him bc he was good at killing people for him! hm, i wonder if this could be trying to say anything about cults and indoctrination and the inherent contradiction in fighting for peace and free will by taking children away from their parents and raising them to become killers?? like, altaïr wasn't ~the special orphan boy~ taken in by al mualim bc his father died a hero's death, it was "the way of the order" to have al mualim be the closest thing to a parental figure for everyone to ensure absolute loyalty! altaïr saying al mualim was like his father is not supposed to make you go "oh, he must have actually been a good guy for altaïr to consider him a father", it should make you go "oh that's kinda fucked up that he considers the dude who made him into a killing machine and who manipulated him a sort of father figure"!)

and then in revelations they suddenly portray that relationship as positive and healthy??? like, it would be one thing to give it some nuance by delving into the psychology behind al mualim’s "love" and maybe showing how al mualim did care about altair in a complicated, fraught sort of way (like, you know, there’s a lot of interesting things you could say about al mualim at several points addressing altaïr as "my child" in AC1 and how that parallels Garnier referring to the people he drugged and abused as his "children", and what that says about how the templars view the people who they say they want to save and in whose best interests they supposedly act (in any case, al mualim doesn’t use that phrase because he has any real parental feelings but rather to patronize and to invalidate any objections, like in a "mother knows best" way))

but they even fucking DARE to parallel that relationship with that of altaïr and darim in revelations, by having the reflection in the puddle of darim hugging altaïr showing altaïr hugging al mualim…. like their relationship wasn’t inherently abusive but just tragically cut short because al mualim was just "corrupted by the apple"… like WHAT???? so it’s not the very real problems like grooming, manipulation and indoctrination and the hierarchical structure of the brotherhood itself (all of which are antithetical to the assassin ideology), it was just the evil apple all along. great. that’s DEFINITELY a lot more interesting.

god im sorry i really dont want to spread negativity but this is driving me INSANE. like, somebody please tell me im not crazy bc i feel like somehow most of the fandom is in agreement that revelations and the secret crusade have better storytelling and characterization than ac1.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, can we talk about how, even IF we completely ignore AC1 and treat revelations altaïr as his own character…. the narrative still doesn’t really work?

basically, the whole point of his story in rev is that "he gave his whole life to the brotherhood", this obsession led to him not using his time with his family which has him ending up dying alone in a dark library and this in turn makes ezio reevaluate his life choices…. except. he doesn’t? neglect? his family? or whatever? like, his devotion to the assassins is sort of painted as this tragic flaw that leads to a lonely death bc it supposedly comes at the cost of his family, but… his wife has joined the assassins, (at least) one of his sons is in the brotherhood and even when he goes to protect the assassins against the mongols, he takes his family with him (except for the son who stays behind bc he has a family of his own and who, ironically, ends up dying bc of that)… like, you can’t describe altaïr as a good husband and father in the database and have his son tell him that "everything that is good in me began with you, father" when they say goodbye, and then want to make us believe that he put his family behind the brotherhood and that that is a character flaw that leads to his tragedy.

because you HAVE to have a character’s tragedy be the result of a character flaw. like. that is how tragedies work. otherwise it just becomes tragedy for the sake of tragedy which is… boring bc it has no purpose. and we know it is SUPPOSED to have purpose bc ezIO FUCKING QUITS BEING AN ASSASSIN AFTER WITNESSING IT!

it’s like they want to have their cake and eat it, too — they didn’t want to actually make altaïr a bad husband/father, but still wanted to make his life a tragedy where he loses his family which is why instead they outsource all responsibility to abbas who now has to be the reason for ALL the deaths.

like, they try to make at least maria’s death kind of sort of the result of altaïr’s rashness or whatever but like… these guys KILLED THEIR SON and TOLD HIM THAT ALTAÏR HAD ORDERED HIS DEATH. like, altaïr losing it in response to that is not rash, it’s fucking logical and justified! if anything the scene made me angry at maria for trying to stop him. like, GIRL, he was YOUR son too??? but god forbid we give female characters actual real emotions, she has to fill the role of "voice of reason who dies for altaïr’s man pain" i fucking guess.

like, it’s this weird mix where his tragedy is simultaneously painted as his own fault but also not really bc abbas is the one responsible for all the shit that happens. it just… it just doesn’t really go together.

the only way to make his story make sense narratively and to give it actual purpose is by looking at it in the context of ezio’s story, bc the things he sees in altaïr’s memories are supposed to be a revelation (ha!) to ezio specifically. and i guess that’s maybe the crux of it all — altaïr’s story in revelations was conceived of first and foremost to support ezio’s story and development. which is probably also why many people maybe don’t notice bc, having skipped ac1 and started with ac2, the majority of people mostly care only about ezio and only really appreciate altaïr’s story in as far as it serves to push ezio forward. (tho i’ve also seen a few people say that ezio is also written kind of weird in rev, but i’ve never really been an ezio girly myself so i can’t speak to the truth of that)

like, altaïr dying alone in the library doesn’t really have to make sense for his character, i guess, bc it’s only really supposed to be a cautionary tale for ezio.

so, i guess, for once, they actually had a MAN dying for another man’s character development, which is pretty woke actually. ubisoft, i take everything back jksdsfjhgdsahfhsdhfghfdsgjhsdgjh

[tattlestarbeepbop]

I'm tired of this fandom being so small that everyone that makes content for it basically knows each other, sooo...

A la Randy Feltface's skit about Hemmingway, I bring you...

THE BACKSTORY OF: JANE WHITMAN

(In the span of however fast or slow you may read this.)

[Just a heads up, spoilers for Date Time ahead.]

GO!

Born in the year of, or at the very least some year before 1974, (Inferred by the newspaper we find in one of the first rooms of what we can only assume is her headspace and the fact that she has a teacher named Mrs. Afee in this year) Jane had an eventful childhood, such as her father basically abandoning her and her mother, leading to a childhood that Randy would call uneventful, but I know led to a majority of Jane's life being the way it is.

Mrs. Afee was concerned for her health because she usually just drew all day, never interacting with the other kids (Oh, hey, it's me!) She was also not that cooperative with her mother, which... granted, most kids aren't. There's also a cat plush that you can squish, but I can either say "This must've been Jane's comfort plush!" or I can just admit I don't know why it's there and move on.

In 1975 (Inferred by another newspaper) Jane was asked to draw something else by her teacher... and the result wasn't very pretty. Either way, it was in this year that Jane caught wind of Silicon Valley, a place in California known for it's technological whimsy!... which her mom thought was a financial fad. I want to see the look on her face when she finds out she was DEAD WRONG!

Jane liked watching TV, and one show she watched had a little sock puppet man named Klippy. He told her that she was loved and cared for and that somebody else out there in the world was the same way, which is true! Klippy also told Jane to never give up! And ya know what her momma said?!

"Don't listen to the TV, Jane. It'll rot your brain."

Everybody say it with me: FUCK YOU, JANE'S MOM!

...okay, I shouldn't give her too much shit, she was struggling with rent because her husband fucked off to Valhalla. (probably)

Anyway, next room/part of Jane's life! No year this time, but we can assume she's older. Now she's some quiet gal trying to get a job for the summer at a restaurant, but those guys rejected her. She got shoved into a locker by some bitchass named Jackie, some Mrs. Sophie woman (probably another teacher) tells her to give up on art and focus on getting her life together (and gave her only two options: Work force or housewife), and Jane's mother forces Jane to get into a prom dress that even Anna thinks is dreadful AND DATE SOME A-HOLE!

Literally. If my theory about the next room is right, her date is literally just called 'A-hole.'

Anyway, we have another year on a magazine! 1980! Woo-hoo! Anyway, this guy takes the time to share weird facts like "Did you know we only use 10% of our brains?" WHICH IS FUCKIN' BULLSHIT. He also claims to be a lawyer and that a limousine can still turn if tilted at a certain angle- actually, wait- no he didn't He told her it's not true after saying it! WHAT THE FU-

He says he's a fan of 'Art of War,' an ancient Chinese military treatise by Sun Tzu and that he'll pay for the meal if Jane gives him another date, to which she rightfully declines. Good on you, Jane. You deserve better. Anyway, she's scratched out her drawings because nobody supported her art career and her mom, despite being the partial cause of Jane's dismay was like "You used to draw all the time! What happened?"

Again, say it with me: FUCK YOU, JANE'S MOM!

Jane also tried to get a job working for a "John Avast," who, like basically everyone else in her life, rejected her. And then, finally, after so many years of heartbreak and depression... Jane met Melissa, a character from a dating game that's been there since the start of the series. She's also self-aware and will someday grow tired of the fruitless cycle of dates and smooches and cafes with only three choices on the player's side, including a SCRUMPTIOUS PANINI.

Anna's tired of Melissa in general and slices that memory to bits right in front of Jane. Yikes.

Anyway, Jane loved Melissa so much that upon actually getting her arm held by Melissa's pixelated figure as she begged to be with her, that she couldn't help but say yes and immediately start to gather the supplies for a break-in to the library, which her mother catches her in the act and SENDS HER TO A MENTAL INSTITUTION CALLED ST. PALO AFTER GETTING A NEW ROOMMATE.

ONE MORE TIME: FUCK YOU, JANE'S MOM!

In the next room, we meet the biggest bastard to ever bastard in Jane's life (other than Anna,) and his name is Dr.Kaperski. Real piece of work this one. Jane's restricted while she sits down and is basically forced to tell Dr.Kaperski what happened at the library, and when she's done, she rightfully tries to attack him, but a nurse forces her to take the medicine prescribed to her and possibly gain a fear of needles as a result if she didn't have one already.

And that's where the flashbacks end... but wait. There's more.

At the age of 24, Jane is let go, courtesy of the Data Time company, because SHE GOT HIRED AFTER SO FUCKIN' LONG, LET'S GOOOOO! She gets a copy of Anna and as we check her emails, we see an email from her mom. Again, I'd love to see the look on that woman's face when she thought semi-conductors were a financial fad! Sorry isn't going to cut it for scarring your kid for life!

Anyway, Anna takes Jane's wheel after taking her down memory lane, they shuffle on over to the library and confuse the fuck out of Melissa, but then when she's about to make her move and give the Anna-possessed Jane a big ol' smooch, she whips out a device that sends Melissa right back into the computer with one last moment of clarity that this ain't Jane, and with that, the (probably first ever) copy-protected Melissa diskette is born.

Jane ain't having it.

She fights with all of her might against big bad Anna and manages to tuck the diskette away in it's character's favorite book, Pride and Prejudice. Speaking of which, HOW, pray-tell, has nobody found that thing yet?! There's a demand in romantic books, so surely someone would've found it by now! (Not a knock against the game, just a joke.)

Anyway, Jane rushes out of the library before Martha (the librarian) or Anna (the bitch) can get her to show the diskette to them, and ends up running out of breath in the middle of the street before a fuckin' semi shows up AND SPLATTERS HER BODY ALL OVER THE STREET!

WHAT A GAL!

How I knew her age?

I found it on a funeral thing that I couldn't tell you about until you knew she died.

[13skeletons]

The more I think about it, the more I think I should've paired a mage Hawke with Tobias Cousland. (Knight Enchanter so he spent most of the game fighting with sword and shield.)

Like, your family has had to move constantly your whole life because of magic. But you've finally settled outside Lothering and tried to just stay in one place for a while, but then the Blight comes and you have to flee with your lives, barely making it out in time. You're refugees in a templar-controlled city and you have to hide your magic harder than ever, but you're determined to make it work this time. Then the Hero of Ferelden ends the Blight in record time and rises to the throne. The official word out of Denerim is that he's a warrior of great skill, but certainly no mage. Certainly no apostate. The noble Couslands hiding their son's magic? CERTAINLY not. And what Ferelden would refute that? They owe everything to him, what's a little blasphemy to a hero? But the rumors persist.

("I have a cousin who saw the Hero crush the life right out of a hurlock with magic!" "Well my sister was living in Denerim during the final battle and she swears she saw him in a field of frozen genlocks and there were no other mages anywhere NEAR him." "Me nan lives in Amaranthine and she saw him walking around with a staff on his back, bold as you please!")

The rumors reach your ears and you think, "if he can do it, why not me?" And for a while it even seems to be working out that way. You regain your family's estate. You save the city from the qunari, you defeat the Arishok himself in single-combat.

But it all falls apart. Champion you may be, but the Arishok is no Archdemon, and you have no queen in your corner, no ancient and respected family name. The mage-templar war erupts right there in your city, and no amount of magic can stop it.

History will remember Tobias Cousland as a warrior and a Hero, but you're just another apostate - a danger to yourself and everyone around you.

Like. OoF? Ow? Pour that salt directly into my fucking wounds??

And also the more I think about it, the more I think I want to completely swap out my canon. Like. I LOVE the narrative circle of starting Jasper Mahariel's journey by being corrupted by this ancient relic of his people and ending it by following his lover through the same. And I LOVE that the first human Merrill ever met took Jasper, one of her only friends away, and she never saw him again. Then the second human she ever meets ends up falling for her and taking care of her and giving a her real home and supporting her unconditionally for the first time. I love that through-line, that's why I did it.

But also I set it up years ago and I'm slowly finding that other stories are more compelling in my old, depressed state. [weary emoji]

[a-dream-deferred]

so i started going to the gym for the very first time and i have some Thoughts to share:

for context physical activity has never been my strongest suit nor my cup of tea. the lowest grade i've ever received in my whole life (all 12 years of school and 2 years of uni) was in PE lmao

so naturally i was not exactly looking forward to being in a gym. but my mental and physical health has been suffering lately so you gotta do what you gotta do

suprisingly the gym was a much less intimidating environment than i anticipated. yes there were people who looked super buff and experienced, but there were also all other kinds of bodies and ages and levels of fitness. and no one seemed to pay attention to what the others looked like or what they were doing, so my social anxiety settled down and let me be

observation 1: it's amazing how music can make exercise go from pain pain pain discomfort embarrassment shame to pleasantly dissociating and imagining yourself as a fictional character of your choosing

observation 2: isn't it kind of dystopian that gyms are simulating the kind of physical activity that is normally meant to be done outdoors? running, walking, jogging, cycling, even rowing. if i could walk or bike to places instead of having to ride in a car i wouldn't have to resort to a gym in the first place, but the roads are not designed for that and the weather is too hot

this brings me to the reason i absolutely hate modern exercise--it just feels so fake!! and meaningless!! and aimless!!! rationally i knOw there are many benefits but it's like there's this primeval part of my brain that's like. if i am not escaping or hunting or racing, then why am i running? i am not even moving from one point to another, how strange. why am i squatting or bending over if i'm not picking something up? what are these weights that i am lifting - if it is not a jug of water or a sack of grain, then why am i carrying it?

afaik in pre-industrial times the poor got their exercise in the form of physical labor while the rich had their leisurely sports like horseback riding and archery. gyms on the other hand divorce physical activity from both usefulness AND entertainment, making it a very unpleasant experience imo. it takes a lot of mental effort to remember that exercising is going to help me in the long term when in the short term it just feels like time wasted on pain and getting nothing real done.

observation 3: i've seen many individuals who someone could easily look at and say "oh that person is overweight/obese, they must not exercise at all" but then you see them lifting heavy weights like it's nothing, doing intense workouts without running out of breath, etc. meanwhile i with my "normal bmi" am struggling to do basic stuff. so yeah fatphobia is definitely not about health or fitness or whatever

observation 4: the kindness of strangers <3 that's it that's all there is to say

[erispenelopeandalittleviolet]

Penelope and eris mentioned yayyy

Otome Isekai x Text Post Meme

(Originally posted this on r/otomeisekai, but I'm posting it here too on someone's request)

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[daffodils-and-viscera]

i've seen a lot of posts comparing mastermind to truth seekers but hear me out: ozzie's

SO this may be long buckle in. these episodes kinda have the same plot?

blitzø has found himself in a bit of a sitch, as it were...

our beloved dramatic gay owl is at home watching gabriela pine over alejandro, when suddenly... blitzy is in trouble! omg let's get cunty and go save the day!!

however, despite showing up and saving lives (he may have literally saved blitzø's life in mastermind but that outfit from ozzie's changed all our lives forever soo...) blitzø isn't necessarily ((outwardly)) happy to see stolas (((we all know he does not mind stolas' ass in his face but stay with me here)))

stolas' privilege allows him to be immediately heard and not punished by the people who would never listen to blitzø's side of things, and stolas gets to be his dramatic lil bitch self and we love to see it

in ozzie's, blitzø has his past come back to haunt him in so many ways, he is put in the spotlight and he is decidedly not comfortable there, being called out for all the shit he's done to fizz and verosika and even m&m - HOWEVER! as we all now know, all of those people actually care about blitzø and he was just being his lil destructive self. he is given the chance to defend himself but it's overwhelming and he kinda freezes up

in mastermind, blitzø is being outright blamed for things he didn't do but like.. he actually didn't do any of that ! and yet he can't defend himself because nobody would listen to him even if he wasn't gagged.

the difference between these 2 episodes is in stolas' behaviour when HE is put in the spotlight- at ozzie's he is freshly separated from stella and probably hasn’t done anything social for a long ass time and he’s not used to being in public. and here’s this thing that he thinks is gonna be fun and will help blitzø but he is not able to express himself so he hides and the result of that is blitzø pushing him away, literally doesn’t want to touch him

in MASTERMIND our birdy babe is singing his lil heart out with no regard for what anyone else thinks of him or what might happen to him, which is so beautiful (but also stolas pls try not to inhale the water).... when he doesn't hide his feelings from blitzø we see how perfect it could be when their inner worlds merge and they are finally on the same page, and blitzø does the furthest thing possible from pushing stolas away !!!

(he did however still neglect to consider octavia's feelings when he decided to drop everything for blitzø... with devastating implications in mastermind) sorry to bring the mood down but this needs to be pointed out

in ozzie's, stolas tries to invite blitzø to his place (and we all remember how well that went)........ blitzø goes home alone and loona is not there, he is all alone and sad curled up on the couch on his phone looking at all the people he believes he's let down and it's heartbreaking

when stolas goes to blitzø's place in mastermind, stolas gets all the love and support blitzø has to offer and loona is there too and blitzø curls up on the couch on his phone looking at all these people who love and support him!!! and then he makes the couch all comfy for stolas and he’s not alone?? like they’re both so not alone that it hurts my heart to think about. these 2 have so much love for each other and yeah there's gonna be tough times ahead but they are not alone! !!!!

basically both eps end the same? but also everything is better now? because blitz was loved before he just couldn’t see it through all his nonsense

and stolas is still in a messed up situation and he's still kinda problematic and he couldn’t see it before through all his nonsense but now he’s more self aware?

the real difference is they have each other now! they are so not alone it makes them look stupid!!

anyway this is the longest post i've ever made sorry if it's rambly i have adhd and a lot of feelings about these two

[sinsmockingbird]

GOOD LUCK, BABE | Zoya

PAIRING: College!AU!Zoya x College!AU!Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Angst, NSFW, Dom!Character, Sub!Reader, College!AU, Bad Girl!Zoya, Little Miss Perfect!Reader, Trans!Zoya, Zoya has a penis, Heavy Cheating, Reader is cheating on their boyfriend with Zoya, Jealousy, Hate Fucking, Fingering, Alludes to Unprotected Sex.

CREDITS: Credit to @sea-lanterns for making the banner

AUTHORS NOTE: Probably the longest fic I've ever written. I actually decided to change the ending to something else last minute, as I realized the original could be triggering. Instead, enjoy a very very sad (slightly rushed) ending.

YOUR AN epitome of perfection in the eyes of many.

From the students at the college you attend, to the professors and school staff, you were a woman who could do no wrong. You were the student council president of your prestigious college, the captain of the women's soccer team, and the school's debate team leader. You were involved in everything at your school, from the events being held to the various clubs and societies. You knew everyone and everyone knew you.

At least, everyone thought they knew you. But who could ever imagine that little miss perfect had chosen the college’s bad girl and the drummer of a band, as the person she would start an affair with?

◃───────────▹

It was late at night, about 1 in the morning. You were laying back in your bed, disheveled and trying to catch your breath while Zoya collapsed beside you, who was equally disheveled and out of breath. You weren’t sure how long you both had been going at it, but it was long enough for you to feel too sore to move.

“Too much?” Zoya’s voice cut through the air, a soft chuckle falling from her lips as she moved onto her side and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. You looked gorgeous in her eyes with that post orgasm glow to you.

You laughed softly at her question, pressing your body close to hers. “No. It was perfect.”

It was always perfect with Zoya. Whether you were having a quickie, a rough fucking, or even love making, it was always perfect. She just did everything right, and it was only made better with how well she’s learned your body.

“Good.” Zoya hummed in content, relaxing against your bed while holding you close. It was these moments she loved the most where it was just the two of you. No outside eyes, no knowledge of what you did known to others, just you and her in this relaxing silence.

“Are you coming to Chelsea’s party today?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at her, admiring every little detail of her face that you normally wouldn’t be able to.

“Mhm. Kinda have to.” Zoya answered, gazing down at you, the blue of her eyes more prominent in the soft darkness of your room. When you gave her a look, she quickly continued. “The band’s performing, at the request of Chelsea. So, yeah, I’m technically obligated to be there. Like you are.”

You simply hummed at her words, your eyes moving down to her chest. You raised a hand up, lightly tracing your fingers over the marks you had left over the hours of passion that you shared.

She was right about you being obligated to be at Chelsea’s party. She was not only one of your good friends but it was also the end of the year party, one of the biggest she hosts all year. Plus, you were miss perfect and popular, so everyone at school expected you to be there, and you being you wanting to maintain your image, always went.

Zoya watched you closely, recognizing when you were getting lost in your thoughts or contemplating something. So she gently placed one of her larger hands over yours, making your attention snap back to her. “You want me to take you?”

“No.” You quickly shook your head, your eyes looking away from her and into the darkness of your room. “Nate’s picking me up and we’re going together.”

Oh, she should have assumed that.

A frown quickly tugged at Zoya’s lips upon hearing your boyfriend’s name. You both had made rules between you both when your affair started, one of them being to never mention your boyfriend’s name. It was mainly because you didn’t want to think about him when you were with her, and Zoya hated to hear it as it was a cruel reminder that you weren’t hers. She hated him for that.

“Right.” Zoya mumbled, suddenly seeking sleep. She turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling before forcing her eyes closed. She wanted the conversation to be over now, not wanting to be angry with you or anything. She could feel her jealousy boiling, making her seethe internally. “Should get sleep. We both have a busy day.”

“Zoya…” You whispered her name, looking up at her. But she didn’t respond, pretending to already be asleep. You sighed, feeling guilty now. So you just rested your head on her chest and closed your eyes, hoping sleep would take you quickly.

◃───────────▹

Chelsea’s parties were huge and grand. She came from a family with wealth, meaning she had big money to spend when it came to the parties she hosted, but no party was as big as the end of the year parties, especially this one considering it was your guy’s last year, so it was a celebration of your year’s graduation.

Every student on campus was there, making the place packed. You stuck close to Nate, who was luckily a huge guy that was able to make room for the both of you. You guys were standing at a ping pong table with a group of your closest friends. You were cheering on Donald, Nate’s best friend, who was going up against some jock guy that you could never remember the name of.

But you weren’t actually paying attention to the match going on in front of you. You were too busy scouring the sea of party goers in search for the familiar face of the woman who has taken up the majority of your thoughts. You still hadn’t seen her, and it was making you a bit restless. You wouldn’t even be able to walk over and talk with her in fear of suspicion starting that something was going on between you both, but you just wanted to see her, even if for a split second.

“-Baby?” You let out a startled breath as Nate tilted your head up towards him, his eyebrows furrowed together when he realized you weren’t hearing him, too lost in your own thoughts of… Zoya, not that he knew that.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Your face grew hot as your attention moved to him, embarrassed at how distracted you were.

“I was asking you how you were feeling about graduation coming up.” Nate stated, searching your face for several long seconds, as if he was trying to discern what could be possibly going on in that head of yours. “Everything okay, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just- just thinking about mom coming tomorrow.” You quickly lied, plastering a smile on your face. You’ve learned how to fake a smile over the years.

Nate hummed your answer, believing that you were just thinking about and worrying about your mom coming tomorrow for your graduation. She was… an intense woman to say the least. She was the one always pushing you to be perfect, have great grades, and participate in more things than a person can handle. She always said it was to prepare you for the future and push you, but it only led you to stress over wanting to be a perfect daughter in her eyes.

“Don’t think about her. Focus on now, okay?” Nate whispered that more quietly to you, giving you a soft smile while squeezing your hand that he tightly held onto.

It was moments like these with him that made you feel awful, knowing that you fooled around with someone else behind his back.

Nate was an amazing guy, he really was. He excelled academically and was a prominent figure at your college that almost everyone looked up to, and was also the star football player that led the team to the championship on numerous occasions. He was also an amazing boyfriend, always picking you up from things, walking you to classes and even your dorm, no matter the time of day.

But he had a possessive nature, something you noticed as your relationship went on. He always had to be with you no matter what, going to your trainings, debates, and other events. You didn’t mind that he went with you to those things, but it was the fact it felt like he was preventing you from doing anything else that revolved around your college. He’d also push you to your limits when training for soccer, studying late into the night, and pushing you when it came to debates.

He was too much like your mother, and it hurt you every time you were reminded of that.

“And that’s another win!” Donald’s voice rang out over the cheers that followed, throwing the last plastic red cup aside and throwing his arms up in the air in celebration. Nate quickly looked to his best friend, congratulating him and patting him on the back and you smiled at him.

“Y/N!” Your attention was pulled away from the two males as Chelsea came running up to you, quickly grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Nate without even sparring him a glance. She never was a fan of him. “Come on, Serpent’s band is about to perform and I want you front and center beside me!”

“O-Okay-” You felt your face heat up at Chelsea’s words, stumbling behind her as she easily moved through the sea of people. You were gonna be front and center… in Zoya’s line of sight.

Chelsea was easily still clutching onto your hand as you made your way to the front of the small stage that was set up. The members of the band were already there, having finished setting up. Eleven was on the keyboard, focused on making sure it was right. Serpent was by the microphone, considering she was the lead singer, with her electric guitar ready, she immediately smiled brightly and waved at you and Chelsea. Bai Yi was by the drums, her bass ready as well, a smirk spreading across her face when she saw you, and you noticed her lean over the drum set.

Your heart was beating rapidly as Zoya perked up at whatever Bai Yi had said, her head immediately turning towards the gathered crowd, until they landed on you. You only gave her a small smile, one she returned, but you could tell she was holding herself back from waving at you. But she couldn’t do that, after all you both had to act like you didn’t really know each other. You couldn’t do anything that could make another person suspicious.

“Are you really just gonna give her a small smile?” Chelsea suddenly asked, leaning her mouth right by your ear and whispering so only you heard. It made you jump, immediately leaning away from her.

“Yes…” You muttered, giving Chelsea a warning look to not continue. She was one of the very select people that actually knew about you and Zoya’s affair. You had ended up telling her so you could have some cover for you for the times you’d steal moments with the woman.

Only Chelsea and Zoya’s bandmates knew, and you were going to keep it that way as long as you could.

Chelsea pouted slightly, giving you a look back that you couldn’t quite discern, before her attention was back on the stage as the music started. When the first song started, you were immediately enraptured by the music. You’ve heard Zoya’s band play before, and everytime you were blown away. At first you tried to focus on Serpent, or Eleven, or Bai Yi, trying to not look at the woman on the drums.

But eventually your eyes strayed to her. They always moved to Zoya like she was a magnet, screaming for your attention no matter where you were or what you were doing. She looked handsome sitting behind the drums, her hands moving up and down as played, finding her own rhythm in the song. Sometimes she’d twirl her drum sticks in her hands just to show off before continuing to play, and you could see a smile adorning her face as people in the crowd cheered.

Zoya never really admitted it, but she loved the attention, hearing fans singing along to their songs or cheering. She never felt more alive than on stage playing her drums with her band that had become her family. And it was only made better for her knowing you were in the crowd, in her direct line of sight. Her eyes almost never strayed away from yours when your attention was finally on her, and she was making it difficult for you to look away as her eyes just seemed to suck you in.

But every small moment like this had to be ruined.

Zoya felt her eye twitch and her lips flinched down into a frown as she watched Nate appear beside you, his arm quickly circling around your waist as he pulled you in close. Your attention was immediately off of her and onto him, a big smile spreading across your lips as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. She watched you laugh as he leaned down to whisper something into your ear, before kissing your head and turning his attention to the performance.

Gradually, Zoya began to hit the drums a lot harder as her anger and jealousy built up. She should have been the one to have an arm wrapped around you, be the one to place kisses on your head and face and have you smile up at her like you did with him. It was agony for her, a pain that grew every day, making the hole in her heart widen even more, a hole you caused because you’d never be able to fill your place in it.

As soon as the performance was done and Serpent thanked the crowd, Zoya was off the stage, her jaw clenched tight.

◃───────────▹

It had been an hour when you finally decided to leave the party, exhausted from the whole thing and having to put up a front the whole time. You convinced Nate you could walk back to your dorm on your own, considering it wasn’t too far down from the sorority houses. The walk was something you needed, the cold air feeling nice on your face. You felt relaxed, but also felt empty, an emptiness you couldn’t help but take notice of whenever you weren’t with Zoya.

Thinking of Zoya, you remembered how quickly she was off the stage after the performance ended, and it made you bite your lip. You wondered how hard you had screwed up and upset her, if you even were responsible for it (you were). You decided that once you were at your dorm, you’d make a plan to see her the next day and check in on her.

But it seemed Zoya had her own plans of seeing you earlier than that, as she was waiting for you in your dorm room when you entered.

“I thought you would have stayed a bit longer at the party.” Zoya stated, sitting at the chair at your desk, checking her nails and not even looking at you as you entered and shut the door, the sound of the lock turning echoing inside her head.

“I was planning to leave a little after your band’s performance.” You answered, biting your bottom lip as your eyes moved up and down her body, noting how she seemed a little too relaxed.

Zoya then stood up, her figure already towering over you as she walked towards you, and you tried to read her eyes to gauge how she was feeling. “You and Nate seemed to be having a lot of fun during it.”

You clenched your jaw at the name of your boyfriend, narrowing your eyes just slightly at her. “Isn’t one of our rules to not mention him?”

“Heh.” Zoya couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your reminder, briefly looking to the ground before placing a hand on your chest and gently, but firmly pushing you back against the wall, her lips grazing your ear. “Says the girl who mentioned him last night.”

With those words, Zoya slammed her lips against yours, silencing anything that you were about to say. You immediately melted into it, your arms wrapping around her neck before you pulled her closer, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, something she was all too willing to allow.

Zoya pushed her tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like she always did while her hands landed on your hips, pushing you more firmly back against the wall. Then she was kicking your feet apart with her foot, before slotting one of her legs between yours. A moan immediately fell from yours lips as her knee pressed up against you.

“Zoya…” You whimpered, moaning a little more as she began to grind her knee against the area you wanted her most.

“That’s right, moan my name, baby.” Zoya growled, her lips moving down your jaw and to your neck, quickly kissing as much as she could and lightly nipping at your skin. She so badly wanted to leave a mark on you, but she knew she couldn’t, and it only annoyed her.

You did as she asked, continuing to moan her name and throw your head back, resting it back against the door as you focused on the feeling of her knee grinding up against you just right. Though it wasn’t enough, and you whimpered softly, one of your hands moved down to grab one of her’s. You brought it to the waistband of your pants, silently urging her to slip it past the barrier of clothing.

Zoya growled at the action, a sound that made you shiver and bit your lip. She sounded so primal, like a wolf about to devour its prey, and you were a willing victim to it as she slipped her hand by the waistband. You gasped as soon as her calloused fingers made contact with you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your spine.

“Fuck, your so wet.” Zoya mumbled, feeling you already slick like you had become wet the second you entered your dorm room and saw her, which was the case.

“All for you-!” You bit down on your bottom lip as she easily slipped two fingers inside you, making you feel full. “Yes, yes-!”

The sound of your moans and the slick sound emitting from your pussy as she fingered you was like music to Zoya’s ears, a song she was addicted to. Her thumb circled your clit, while her fingers continued to pump in and out, making you curse and arch your back, pushing yourself further into her. She wanted- no needed to hear more from you. She needed to hear you scream her name.

“Scream my name.” Zoya husks out, her breath hitching as she feels your walls tightening around her fingers. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“S-So good, Z-Zoya!” You tried to speak, finding it harder as you neared your climax, your gut tightening making you whine a needy sound, a sound only she could make. “C-Cumming… p-please let me cum..!”

A tear rolls down your face as the pleasure builds up to a point it’s almost painful, and it makes Zoya’s smirk widen a bit more as she goes back to kissing your neck. She hums against your skin, her tempo increasing, leaving you more numb with pleasure. But she doesn’t say anything, simply focusing on pleasuring you.

Eventually you can’t hold back anymore, and cum around her fingers with a scream of her name, “Zoya!”

Your body arches into her’s, your head falling forward and onto her shoulder as the waves of pleasure leave your body weak and shaking. Zoya immediately supports you as you collapse against her body, her arm tightening around your waist and pulling you closer. She pulls her hand from your pants and brings them up to her mouth, quickly sucking your cum off them. The sight makes your pussy pulse, but you're too exhausted to act on it.

Zoya easily picks you up in her arms, carrying you over to your bed and gently laying you down. She moves to unwrap herself from you and pull away, only for you to grab her shirt to stop her, whispering, “Please stay, Zoya…”

Your words make her freeze, leading her to debate whether to stay or leave like she planned. But she looks down at your face, seeing you had already begun to fall asleep, your eyes closed. Then she can’t bring herself to leave your side, so with a heavy sigh, she climbs into your bed with you, quickly wrapping her arms around your body and pulling you against her.

Zoya gazes down at your now sleeping face, raising a hand up and gently brushing some hair away before caressing your face. You looked so beautiful and at peace, for once looking relaxing and content while being in her arms. You didn’t have to pretend around her, you were vulnerable and it made her feel special knowing you felt comfortable enough to not put up that front of yours that you had around everyone else.

She wished you could be like that not just behind closed doors with her. She wished she wouldn’t ruin your perfect image by holding your hand in public and kissing your cheek. If she had it her way she would do all of that with you, and maybe it was selfish considering she didn’t care about image. But you did, and she had to respect that openly being with her would ruin it.

For her, keeping your affair a secret was easy for her, but after so long, genuine feelings began to form and she found herself thinking about you every second of the day. She thought of your eyes, your smile, the sound of your laugh and the way you would chew on your bottom lip when you were focused. She noticed every little thing you did, and it was that knowledge that made her realize that you were more than just a person she slept around with.

She needed to tell you how she really felt, because the weight of knowing she had to keep this thing a secret was beginning to weigh heavily on her. She had to say something, because she yearned for the day when she didn’t have to conceal her feelings or hide her presence, or act like she didn’t know you when in reality she knew you better than anyone else.

Was it really too much to ask for?

◃───────────▹

Everytime Zoya tried to confess her feelings to you, something would happen or come up, leaving you to either leave or leave her too afraid to actually say anything. She never felt so weak or scared before until she was faced with a situation where she could finally tell you that she loved you. It went on for two more months, and your affair was still going and was still secret. Now graduation was upon you guys, happening the next day when Zoya received news that utterly tore her apart and left her feeling so cold and heartbroken.

“You didn’t know? Nate and Y/N are getting married.”

The words echoed in her head like a plague, leaving her wanting to claw at her skin and sink into herself and just break down. She found herself at a bar and hung out there late into the night, drinking down beer after beer all to try and numb the pain she was feeling. By 3 in the morning she wasn’t in a coherent state, her mind fogged with alcohol as she stumbled through campus. All that was on her mind was you, and it was why she found herself knocking loudly on your dorm room so late.

You opened the door, rubbing sleep out of your eyes, before they widened when you saw her standing on the other wide, reeking of alcohol, and weakly holding onto the door frame to keep herself up right. “Zoya-”

“When were you gonna tell me?” Her voice cut through you like a knife, leaving you frozen as she stared you down with anger and hurt swirling inside her eyes. You’d never seen her so… broken, and that’s how you knew that this was about.

“I’m sorry…” Was all you could say back in response as tears welled up in your eyes, your hands beginning to shake along with your whole body.

“Engaged?” Zoya stated, looking at you with pure hurt as she leaned slightly towards you. “You didn’t tell me…”

You remembered when Nate had proposed to you a couple days ago. It was when you were at dinner with both of your families, celebrating the final debate you participated in. Suddenly Nate had dropped down onto one knee in front of you, holding out a ring and asking the words, “Will you marry me?”

How were you supposed to say no when you felt everyone’s eyes on you, when you felt your mother’s eyes on you. The weight of maintaining the image of the perfect daughter, the expectations, and the pressure of the entire situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, leading you to saying yes.

You didn’t keep it a secret that you were engaged to him now. You were planning to tell Zoya, you really were, but you had been so busy that week that you weren’t able to find time to meet with her. But you didn’t want her to find out this way, because it now leads Zoya to your dorm room, alcohol heavy on her and intoxication clear in her glassy eyes.

“I did everything you wanted!” Zoya suddenly yelled, her voice cracking in anger and pain. “I followed your stupid rules, your demands. I stayed away from you when you asked me to just to keep our-” She stopped, letting out a laugh and looking away with a shake of her head, stopping herself from uttering the word “relationship.”

As far as Zoya knew, you weren’t even a couple, just two people who fucked.

You had your head hung low, staring at the ground while Zoya entered your dorm, beginning to pace back and forth while you quietly shut the door. She was muttering some things to herself, tugging at her hair before suddenly punching the wall. The hit made you jump and squeeze your eyes shut, tears falling freely down your face.

Zoya’s anger was justified, which is why you didn’t stop her as her fist collided with the wall until there was a hole. You wanted to stop her, in fear of her hurting herself, but you just couldn’t. All you could do was stand there in your guilt.

“Y-You know. I played along… to have you.” Zoya whimpered out, leaning her head against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes as her anger was quenched for now. Her hand ached, shaking in pain at her side, her knuckles split open and bleeding, but she paid no attention to it.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, her confession cutting into your heart like a knife, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, tears falling rapidly down your face. The guilt was prominent inside your body, eating away at you.

“I just wanted you to be mine.” Zoya whispered, tears falling from her eyes as she turned towards you slowly. “I love you.”

There it is, those three words that held so much pointless weight in the end. It left you gasping for air between your sobs, your head snapping up to Zoya and staring at her with wide eyes. You always hoped to hear her say them, but you knew you shouldn’t have, knowing it wouldn’t make you change the secrecy of your affair. In the end it wouldn’t change anything, just like how it won’t change anything now.

Zoya then approached you, and with every step she took, you took a step to retreat, until your back hit the wall and she was quick to cage you in between her arms. “But you were never mine to begin with.” She gives you a sad smile, finally coming to terms with that fact. The engagement ring on your finger was proof of it, after all. “Now I have to live with that fact…”

You looked away from her, wrapping your arms around yourself in a protective manner, while trying to make yourself look small. Zoya raised a hand up, gently dragging your chin and tilting your head up until you had no choice but to look at her. She was crying, just like you, and the knowledge of knowing that you were the reason behind her tears made you whimper.

When your attention was on her, she grabbed your one hand and slipped your engagement ring off of your finger, examining it. “Engaged…” She whispered softly, finally letting that fact register in her head.

Then Zoya dropped the ring, letting it fall to the ground, and before you could process it, her lips were on yours. Her lips were soft, feeling familiar and bringing a warmth to your chest that you knew you didn’t deserve. You kissed one another like you were the only reason for each other breathing. You kissed her like this was the end… because it was.

One final night with one another couldn’t hurt, right? Just a night to say goodbye.

Finding yourself back on your bed, naked with Zoya on top of you left you feeling numb with pain. Your mind was only filled with her. The feeling of her body against yours, her lips on your neck, while her hips moved against yours. It was the same like all those other nights you both spent together, except it was different because this was the end.

When you both reached your peak, with Zoya releasing inside you, you felt complete for the first time in your life, but that feeling wasn’t going to last after this. Zoya had her head resting on your chest, listening to the sound of your gradually calming heartbeat, her arms circled around your waist. Your hands moved through her hair as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm, tears rolling down your face.

You eventually fell asleep, and once you were, Zoya forced herself out of your bed. She grabbed her clothes and slowly got dressed, running a hand through her hair before looking back at your sleeping form. Her feet moved on her own as she crouched down beside your bed, reaching a hand out to tuck some hair behind your ear, before leaning forward and placing one final kiss onto your lips, murmuring a few final words before getting up and leaving, never looking back.

“Good luck, babe.”

ENDING NOTES: So, one question. Part 2?

[spotofimagines]

Dating George Weasley as a Ravenclaw would include...

A/N: This is the longest Would Include I've done, so long there's a read more! But I'm in a Weasley mood lately so here you go!

George Weasley x Ravenclaw reader

He sits and watches you study in the library every now and then.

Sometimes he just wants the company but is too tired to do anything but he doesn't want to interrupt you so he sits slumped in his chair, watching you write or holding your ink for you.

Other times, he will be scribbling doodles for a new sweet Fred wants to sell, heaps of parchment mixing with yours.

He always helps you put your books back when you're finished, traipsing behind you with heavy feet, but helping nonetheless.

You're the first person he comes to for help with pranks. He and Fred come up with the ideas, but you know whether the potion ingredients will work, how to say the spell properly and whether the creature they want to release in the Slytherin common room will destroy the whole school. They really would have been expelled by now if not for you.

You also helped them branch out their business by selling stuff in the Ravenclaw common room since they aren't allowed in there.

You become very popular amongst first-year troublemakers, and the small group of older Ravenclaws set up a space in the corner of the common room to buy the concoctions that will give them more time to finish their essays.

George makes sure none of his antics blow back on you. You work far too hard to have your post-school career knocked because you got too many detentions and failed your exams and he knows it.

Although you are on Filch's bad side for distracting him whilst the twins get their confiscated items from his office. And George's response to that? "Who isn't on his bad side?"

He absolutely rubs it in your face when Gryffindor beats Ravenclaw in a quidditch match, whether you really care or not, that's what he'll be spending an hour doing after he's won.

You have a running deal; you buy him a butterbeer for each match he wins and he buys you dinner each time he loses to Ravenclaw. So far George has had countless drinks. You are yet to have one meal.

He always gives you his things to wear; jumpers, hats, scarves, anything really.

But he will never, absolutely never, wear your Ravenclaw scarf; lord help him you'd think the thing was made of fire by the way he avoids it.

You don't know Oliver Wood very well, but he gave you one of the biggest scoldings you have ever received when George couldn't play a quidditch match because you'd been chasing him in the courtyard with your scarf and he fell over his own feet, landing weirdly on his elbow and hip.

After the stern lecture from Oliver and spending two days in the hospital wing with George and occasionally Fred, who found the whole ordeal hilarious, you didn't tease him with your Ravenclaw items again for a long time. He still avoids that scarf like the plague.

You're the only friend of the twins that Percy can tolerate.

Probably because when you visited The Burrow during Christmas breaks, you talked to him about his work and being head boy without ridiculing him. (And you smack George's arm when he makes rude jokes which Percy quite enjoys seeing).

George sits and listens to you rant when you need it.

He watches as you pace back and forth, words never stopping until you've gotten everything out. Then he just pulls you into a long tight hug before he tries to distract you from your problem.

About half of George's herbology work is written by you, and half his transfiguration work and probably half his care for magical creatures work too if he didn't manage to weasel Charlie into unknowingly writing him an essay every month in his letters.

George 100% tries making a million invisibility products and polyjuice potions to try and sneak into your common room at night, but Hogwarts is much too equipped to let him find success at it.

So you had to find a secret spot in the castle for your late-night rendezvous without teachers or prefects finding out.

At first, it was the girls' lavatories but Myrtle's snooping and laughter made it less than perfect. The ghost whispering in his ear halfway through a makeout session made George far too irritated to go there for a third time.

He leaves you little love notes all over the place, some telling you to keep smiling, some telling you a weird joke, some telling you how smoking you look (and now you definitely have to make sure no one can see these notes except you!).

When you have exams or projects due his love notes get more frequent since he knows you'll be stressed and seeing him less.

He always attempts to eat every meal with you in the great hall. This way you can catch up on what you've both been up to and how your classes have been while he makes sure you remember to take breaks from studying to eat properly.

If things get in the way (*cough* detention *cough*) he will take you out to The Three Broomsticks on the weekend, just the two of you, and maybe Fred, but he swears he told Fred not to come this time!

He told you about the marauders' map a day after finding it because he was certain there was something special about the spare roll of parchment in Filch's office they found under Fred's nose-biting teacups.

It was you nonchalantly guessing there's a spell keeping its contents secret before carrying on reading your book that gave him the best tool he could have wished for.

That's why you're the only other person who knows about the map. You've spent many hours sitting tucked into his side, munching on chocolate frogs and watching people walk around on the paper.

That's how you found out Fred and Angelina were dating but George's excitement to tease them about it more mischievously outweighed your want to learn the details from your friend.

Despite all of George's silliness and trouble, he might just be one of the smartest people you know outside of Ravenclaw.

Not that anyone else believes you when you say it, as his pranks are known to be foolish, but you've seen the way he and Fred create their products and plan their business throughout the years. No one else has the mix of academic and streets smarts to be that successful, you're sure of it.

[venusplan]

How jjk men treat you on your period

an: I really hate periods so here's a post about what the JJK men treat u during yours <3 challenging myself with the one because I've never wrote for Geto, Nanami, Choso, & Toji.

Somehow I made Gojo's the longest??

cw: blood (obviously) period sex, All characters are 18+,

Satoru Gojo

Would probably get you chocolate to share 💗

We're talking about Gojo, so you know it means wayyyy more than you eat. If you are it all you'd probably get sick honestly. Somehow he doesn't though??

Would definitely take a picture in front of the feminine products and send it to you asking "What size pussy do you have?"

Somehow I think he has warm hands, instead of a heating pad he'd probably cuddle with you warming your stomach honestly.

Definitely bought ice cream.

Period sex would probably be a thing tbh (it's kinda half and half for me idk, could see it but at the same time maybe not)

Doesn't wanna leave you when it's the time of month.

If you leave the house and like to go buy groceries and eat something he'll walk behind you. Looking out for you know, blood in case if it seeps through the back or something. (He'd mostly do this for if you use pads instead yk)

I low-key see him knowing what a period is 🎀 because I mean 💗 yeah thinking about it. So you wouldn't have to really inform him.

Suguru Geto

Gosh it's hard to think URGHHH. 💔

Sighhh, honestly if we're talking about adult Suguru I think it's more off he'd know because of Mimiko and Nanako to so.

It gets BAD when all three of his girls get synced up.

He'll make sure to buy like dark chocolate, keep stocked up on pad (&/or) tampons.

Also makes sure we you're comfortable 💗

He'll buy the two heating pads and stuff you know

Meanwhile he'll buy you one for when he's out and about.

Otherwise he also holds his hand on your stomach.

Nanami Kento

Makes sure you're always comfortable.

Also like makes you some warm coffee/tea whichever you prefer.

Wants to help you through the hellish week.

He'll make sure to wash the sheets if you ever get blood on them accidentally.

Tries to keep you warm.

Bought you your favorite chocolate and gets whatever you're craving🎀

Toji Fushiguro

Bro's broke.

He can't buy pads/tampons, etc.

Honestly though hear me out, he'll take on a really quick job from Shiu and buy you some stuff.

Maybe some chocolate and a pack of pads/tampons.

He'll come back to you with it and then hand the bag to you.

After that he'll either hold you from behind, or his head on your stomach maybe.

Honestly there could be period sex, but he's noticeably not as rough, or anything.

Stays with you the entire time 💕

Ryomen Sukuna

Asshole.

But a nice asshole.

Would make Uraume go out to get your stuff.

Laying in bed, or sitting on his throne he'll put his massive ass hand on your stomach.

Makes sure no one bothers you much.

If you catch an "attitude" with him trust he'll fuck it out of you.

PERIOD SEX. He literally kills people, he is not going to be afraid of blood on his penis(es).

You mostly just stay around him during it (like you do even when you're not) that or you're in your room (his)

Choso Kamo

Scared the first time it happens. Like, "why are you bleeding?!?"

You'd have to explain the whole thing to the poor baby :(

He'll ask questions which you answer.

Later he'll come back to you with everything you need 💗

Doesn't wanna leave you.

Makes sure you have like a whole damn grocery of your pads/tampons.

Would probably get you some sweets.

(he asked Gojo to help him buy it.)

Lays his head on your stomach 🎀

[the-marshals-wife]

Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into a tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

[autisticlancemcclain]

hey guys.

so my grandfather passed earlier this evening, after some time in palliative care. this has put a shit ton of stress on my family. i'm also desperately trying to chug my way through my overloaded final semester of undergrad, plus work, plus trying to figure out next year's living situation and finances. i'm overloaded. i'm stressed.

and, unfortunately, over the past little bit, this account has gone from stress relieving, to neutral, to stress inducing, and i just to not have the space for that right now.

i'm heartbroken about it, to be honest. for two years i have poured my entire heart and soul into this. it has taken up every inch of my free time. i spent all my time thinking about it, i put all my creative energy here. not only did this account make me truly, genuinely happy, but i made a lot of friends and had a lot of fun. it hasn't been that place of joy for me for a while now, but i was keeping up, anyway, because i'm so proud of all i've managed here and i don't want to let go, i don't want to move on.

however, i need a break. a long one.

i have been in and out of the voltron fandom since i was 13 years old. 2022-2023 has been the longest consecutive amount of time i have been fully, both feet, petal to the metal engaged, and i actually think that's the longest i've ever been obsessed with one thing. i usually fluctuate. i have no doubt that one day, probably in the not-too-distant (but not too close either) future, i will come back here. i will pick things up again. they're not going anywhere, after all.

for now, what i've posted is what there is. i have lots of wips, and lots of outlines, and lots of things i've started and let stay unfinished, and i'm going to keep it that way. i heard something about some law coming for fanworks on tumblr, so i might shift anything that's been posted here onto ao3, but as for updates -- it'll be awhile. i hope what i already have holds up.

i've read all your comments and reblogs and asks and messages, even if i haven't responded to them. i'm touched by your concern and endeared by your flattery. i appreciate all the energy you guys have returned here, and i wish all of you the best. have so, so so much fun with this fandom until i come back to it.

love, and hugs, and kisses,

-jackie

[maybege]

What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas - FBI 12

Summary: A team night in Vegas forces you to make some decisions.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.5k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, hopeless yearning but what’s new

We are so back! Parts 13 + 14 are finished and 15 is on its way there so I am hoping to sustain a monthly posting schedule into the new year. This is a classic filler chapter because the filler episodes are always the ones I loved the most. Other than that, we are picking up in speed and tension in the next few parts. Let me know what you think, your comments are the fuel for the creative engine!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Considering the kind of work you did, it was weird to speak about “favourite” case types. But you would be lying if you said that reuniting children with their families was not something that made your heart feel full every time. Like you were proven that the sacrifices this job demanded were always – always – worth it in the end. That they served a purpose.

But no matter how much joy it brought to see little Ryan reunited with his mother after his father suffered a psychotic break, the lack of sleep made you feel like you could sleep for 72 hours straight. Especially since you had been on three back-to-back cases and your phone was filled with voicemails from your mother.

Hotch’s announcement that you would stay in Vegas for the night then came as a welcome distraction to the entire team.

“I am going to take the longest shower the state of Nevada has ever seen,” Garcia announced in the car on your way back to the hotel and you grinned, agreeing with her in your mind.

“I've never actually been to Vegas,” you admitted to JJ who was sitting in the backseat next to you, “Do you guys, like, do you go out or what’s the plan? It sounds like you have a routine going on.”

“The best routine, sweetheart,” Morgan announced from where he was driving. His smiling eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror, “And I think it will probably start with you getting that shower you mentioned.”

*

“Let’s do shots! Shots sound like a good idea!”

“Everything sounds like a good idea in Las Vegas,” JJ argued but she did not protest when Emily waved down the waiter.

Three rounds later you were pleasantly buzzed, precariously balancing in your heels as you wandered along the Caesars Mall in a dress that might as well double for a mirror ball. Getting ready with Penelope Garcia had been the most chaotic, wholesome and validating experience of your life and you had left the hotel room feeling beautiful and ready to – in Garcia’s words – conquer the night.

One thing you hadn’t anticipated though was that conquering the night in Las Vegas meant walking. Lots and lots of walking.

The fake cobbled stone made your feet unsteady and you giggled, hooking your arm through Emily’s without another thought. You felt her tense up next to you and looked up, wondering if maybe you had crossed a line. Only it wasn’t Emily who looked back at you.

It was Hotch.

Fear and shock made your eyes widen and you suddenly became very aware of just how close you were to him. How overt this show of affection could be read and how inappropriate you were being considering this was your boss.

Shit shit shit shit.

Your brain immediately went into crisis-solving mode and the first step was crystal clear: Get your hands off your (very attractive) boss.

But then his hand landed on yours, keeping your arm around his and you tried to hide your surprise with a wide smile.

“Let’s go get something to eat!” Rossi announced, well aware that no one on the team would ever deny the idea of food, “I have an old friend who owns a restaurant here. I am sure he would be able to get us a table.”

After everybody showed sufficient amounts of enthusiasm for his plan, the group made their way to the other end of the mall. Which should not be as big of a deal as it was but cobblestones were not your friend today.

“A bit shaky there, hm?” Hotch mumbled when you took a careful step down a small step of stairs, a smirk on his lips that made you feel warm all over, “Should I start to call you Bambi?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, tightening your hold on his arm nonetheless, “I am perfectly fine.”

“You sure you don’t need to be going back to the hotel?” he checked with you but did not sound too concerned when his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you down the last step and following the group.

“No way, sir,” you shook your head, “A night out with the entire team in Vegas? I am not going to miss it for the world.”

His large hand squeezed yours slightly and you saw the soft smile on his lips that made your heart flutter in your chest like a hoard of butterflies. You were both silent as you followed Rossi’s lead and you allowed yourself to take in the atmosphere.

The dim lighting and cool air really did make it feel like you were strolling through some Italian streets at twilight if it weren’t for the several high-end stores that were neatly lined together. But as you crossed the threshold to the casino part of the hotel, the carpeted floor did little to dim the noise of the hundreds of partygoers flocking around the cocktail bars, poker tables and slot machines.

Rossi was right about his friend having a table for your group and before you knew it, you were sipping on a glass of white wine and munching on the most delicious bruschetta you had ever tasted.

“Rossi, have I ever told you you're my favourite?” Derek joked, his mouth still working on the bite of pasta he had just taken.

“Hey!” Garcia exclaimed, delivering a slap to his upper arm, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you important information no other hacker could provide.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby girl,” he grinned, playfully snapping his teeth at her. Everybody laughed at their antics and you tried to ignore how a particular set of laughter made your thighs clench.

Get your act together, girl.

The dinner was fun, really, and you found that you could not get enough of spending time with the team. There was so much affection, kindness and hilarious banter between them, it reminded you of the found families you studied in your literature courses.

Maybe the BAU was one of those cases in real life.

No one could ever tell you it wasn’t affection that made Rossi order different pasta dishes for everyone at the table or that caused Reid to explain the surface ratio of different pasta types or that had Emily and JJ order not one but two bottles of the house-recommended wine. It was affection that had Garcia put her head on your shoulder when she was drowsy after dinner and it was affection that twinkled in Hotch’s eyes when he asked you if you’d like a dessert.

“I would never say no to some panna cotta,” you spoke truthfully, “Wanna share?”

He stood up, throwing you a smile. “I will get some from the counter up front.”

To avoid looking at him leave (and the formidable form he was making in that dark suit), you pulled out your phone. You never really got to check it while on a case, so your social media feeds were usually full of new stuff you got to scroll through before you came home. You watched Josh post about some dinners and spotted the @thefabulousamber tag that appeared several times in his stories. And there was John posting some pictures about a run along the river and your school friends, all reuniting back home.

“Interesting,” a deep voice rumbled behind you, “tell me, what exactly are we looking at?”

You turned in your chair, spotting Hotch. He was standing behind you, leaning down to watch what you wanted to show him on your phone and your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his lips ghost over your ear. He was so close. His hands landed on the table in front of you, effectively caging you in and yet you made no move to shy away from him.

 “It’s a cat video,” you said to him with a smile, “look how cute it is!”

“Very cute indeed,” he smiled, looking down at you, “Do you have any cats at home?”

“I wish,” you sighed, “but Josh is allergic and I don’t know if I can justify getting a cat when I am gone all the time.”

“Sounds like you are not really settled.”

“Huh?”

“You’re the newest member of our team and are not from here. A pet usually symbolizes a commitment to one’s current life aside from romantic or platonic relationships.”

“You don’t have any pets.”

“I have a child,” he reminded you before you both burst into laughter at the sight of Reid trying to juggle six different wine corks.

*

It wasn’t even five hours later that your alarm blared in your ears and Garcia – where had she even come from? And especially when? – stirred next to you.

“Five more minutes,” she grumbled, mistakenly patting on your legs in search of her glasses, “Please.”

You squinted your eyes at the display of your phone, trying to ignore the stale taste in your mouth. “I don’t think we have five more minutes,” you stated, forcing yourself out of bed. Why was everything turning?

Oh no, that was you.

You landed with a thud on your knees, the vibration travelling from your joints to your head and you groaned. “I will never drink again,” you muttered. Pressing your hands to your closed eyes, somehow dulled the throbbing in your head.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

You could do this. One step at a time. Time … What was it about time that was so important?

Your head shot up, “We need to leave in like 30 minutes.”

“Oh shit,” you could hear the rustling of the bed sheets as Penelope rolled alone, unsteadily landing on her feet, still wearing her yellow tights from the night before, “Let’s go, bestie, we have bags to pack!”

No training in the world could have prepared you for packing your bags, brushing your teeth and downing three glasses of water within 25 minutes. By the time you had made it down to the lobby and into the cars, you were convinced others could hear your head pound which was why Emily offered you the painkiller before popping one in herself.

All in all, it seemed the entire team was a little worse for wear as you filed into the plane.

All except for one.

“You know the German word for hangover Kater translates into cat but actually it comes from the Old-Greek Katarhh which means to have a cold and was commonly used by 19th century philosophy students after indulging too much.”

“Oh, shut up, Reid,” you groaned, “You drank just as much. How can your head still be this functional?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt bad. Spencer looked at you like a kicked puppy and you sighed. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, reaching out your hand to pat his knee where he was sitting opposite you, “That was uncalled for.”

The leather of the seat next to you creaked and even with your headache, you recognized the shape and warmth of your boss instantly. His upper arm brushed against yours, the fabric of his suit jacket warming against your bare skin.

Your heart skipped a beat at seeing the smile on his lips. Aaron Hotchner, for just the barest of seconds, looked genuinely happy like this and you wondered what he was thinking, what he was seeing. Whether he listened to how Rossi kept talking about some pasta dish you’d never heard of, hands gesturing as he talked to Garcia, or if he was watching Reid and JJ trading plane reads or watching Emily try and get a hold of her cat sitter.

“I’ve heard water is supposed to help.”

You flinched when his voice sounded much too close to your ear, his breath washing down the side of your neck and making you dream of scenarios where his mouth was so close to your neck for other reasons.

“Don’t scream at me,” you mumbled, holding your forehead. There was an uncharacteristic grin on his face that made you want to squint your eyes at him. He seemed so … bright.

“I gather it’s been a long night?”

“Do not come between Penelope Garcia and a bottle of tequila,” you muttered,” just don’t.”

“I could say the same about Rossi and a good whiskey.”

“You don’t look as if you had that long of a night.”

“I drank my water,” he teased, closing the file in front of him, “And admittedly a few more years of practice are worth everything when you drink with either of them.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you hummed, leaning back against the soft seat, “at least we have our own private jet. Thank God for the American taxpayer.”

Hotch didn’t say anything but when you opened your eyes again he was looking at you – and smiling. Aaron Hotchner was smiling at you. You felt the blood rush into your face and you tried to sit up a little straighter, a wave of nausea crashing over you and you whimpered. You’d never ever drink after a case with her again. How did Derek survive until now?

“Here,” you opened your eyes to the sight of a thick hand pushing a glass of water to you on the table, “Drink some more.”

You hid your smile against the rim of the glass.

Maybe everything would change for the better now.

*

Six days later, though, your happiness was shattered into a thousand pieces. Apparently, Aaron Hotchner took What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas literally. Because not only did he act like your flirtation (if you could even call it that) never happened – which was something you had expected all along – but he also acted as if your friendship did not exist.

You were not sure what hurt worse: the fact that you allowed yourself to dream about what this could mean or the fact that he seemed so unaffected by pretending things had never changed from three months ago.

You found yourself floating into the office each morning with a smile, hoping that maybe he was just in a bad mood. That his little comments would start again. That he would correct you when you called him Sir. And each evening, you found yourself sitting at your desk, shoulders falling inwards as you started your way home with a feeling of dread in your belly.

It was not long before the doubt crept back in. Did something happen that made him think you were unworthy, not necessarily of this job, but of him? And why did it matter to you anyway? Yes, he was a good-looking (very good-looking) man whose voice sent shivers down your spine and who made more than one appearance in your dreams, sure. But that did not mean you deserved to let the whims of course crush dictate the way your day was going.

Or your job, for that matter.

Either way, it was absolute bullshit and after another day during which he simply passed your desk without so much as a “Good morning” you found yourself googling flights to Idaho and dialling a number you knew by heart since the age of five.

“Hi, hun,” your mother greeted you on the side of the phone, “How are you doing?”

“Hi Mom,” you mumbled as you clicked on the first available flight, “About that visit we were talking about … how soon can I come?”

[yanxidarlings]

YANDERE HP GOLDEN ERA: SLYTHERIN BOYS X DORMMATE READER PT2

so more of the slytherin boys was in the lead last night and inspiration struck, but i still will be doing whichever option has the most votes by the end of the week, and eventually i'll probably have all of the concepts up, if you haven't already you can vote here.

so i did more reading up on mattheo and lorenzo, and i honestly don't know where to pick up from, i'm thinking of making this my main concept for yandere hp and building on it.

the last post specified the darling as the dormmate of our dear slytherin boys here, but many of the headcanons can be applied to a fem darling, or darling from another house. it's quite intriguing to imagine someone who had grown up close to draco, theo, ect. getting sorted into a different house; i can honestly see this being a trigger for the boys' yandere tendencies to develop.

sure theo was attached before, but he had never even entertained the possibility of not getting sorted into slytherin together. and what do you mean the darling won't be there to knock draco down a peg when he won't stop talking down to goyle?. how is blaise supposed to get through seven years of not watching his darling everynight whilst they sleep?

i might expand on this in my future ravenclaw (possibly hufflepuff) posts. for now i want to delve into the individual yandere characteristics of each slytherin (i'm considering adding pansy, adrian, other slytherins) to the concept if anyone else is interested.

DRACO MALFOY (cast tom felton):

i think i've made it painfully obvious draco is alot to deal with as a yandere. he's got a bit of everything and even more; but overall, he is overwhelmingly obsessive. his obsession is driven by irrepressible thoughts of his darling. ever since he was a child, separating from them has simply felt wrong, i think he's likely to have known the darling the longest, perhaps having grown up close to them.

maybe his darling is a member of the black family, or a lestrange, or hails from another prominent family, thus he has been brought up closely next to them.

there's no one he feels more comfortable around, his darling is his home, which would be sweet if he weren't willing to kill and maim others to keep his darling with him.

his darling was probably hoping, praying to get sorted into any house but slytherin, it didn't take a ravenclaw to know draco would only get worse if they shared a dorm/common room. immediately, he claims the bed next to his darling, and already has pestered his father into arranging them a private dorm together, but that old oaf dumbledore refused because "all students must be treated equally." what bullshit. if you ask draco.

he won't let his darling interact with anyone "don't lower yourself and associate with the likes of them" and socially isolates them. don't you dare wander off, it'll end in the biggest tantrum, and don't even think about dating, the entire slytherin dorm will implode on itself.

draco needs constant attention, his darling is all he thinks about so he expects them to only think about him as well. you'll quickly learn that it's best to give draco the attention he wants. it's not that he plans to give his darling a hard time, but he becomes moody, both mean and clingy at the same time. he'll have his arm around his darlings waist whilst accusing them of being a blood traitor, and attacking their insecurities, then a few hours later he crawls into bed whispering sweet nothings.

it leaves his darling on the edge, because sometimes these mood swings happen even when paying him the attention he so desperately craves.

this could lead to his darling keeping a facade up in front of him, so he has less ammunition during his mood swings, but if he suspects his darling of not being as open and comfortable around him as he is them, all hell breaks loose.

THEODORE NOTT (fancast lorenzo zurzolo):

but he's not as sensitive about his darlings perception of him as theo is. perhaps sensitive isn't the correct word as much as demanding. theodore demands his darling be open and honest with him, he wants to know about every ache and thought they have. however he is best characterised as a possessive yandere. above all he cannot live with the thought of sharing his darling with anyone.

sharing, in theo's mind, is anyone even casting a glance upon his darling. why isn't his company enough? why does his darling have to interact with undeserving rodents like malfoy, potter and the weasleys? he would completely abandon his life outside of his darling if they just asked would anyone else do that for them? no!.

they're the person that matters most to him, and he wants to be the only person his darling cares about as well.

theodore has likely known his darling since childhood, perhaps they shared similarly harsh parents/guardians, and bonded over that. it would make it all the more easier to theo to manipulate them into staying close to him.

his company is not as dreadful as draco's, and he doesn't demand physical affection and praise as much as the latter does, not if his darling is not willing. but there is still a part of him that yearns to press up against them and never let go.

he simply cannot handle his darling distancing themselves from him, and is quick to resort to threats, blackmail, emotional manipulation, anything that he thinks will keep him and his darling close.

he is another one who will shamelessly confess his love and attraction to his darling, and has already 'claimed' them in a strange way; everyone at hogwarts seems to identify theo out of the slytherin boys as the one the reader is 'dating', to theo's delight. his darling doesn't have to agree with the rumours or even think of them as a couple, as far as he's concerned, they've been together since they met.

MATTHEO RIDDLE (fancast benjamin wadsworth):

the only one who i imagine the darling meets when they start at hogwarts is mattheo. whichever year he starts at hogwarts, he's immediately intrigued by them (for whatever reason). maybe the rest of his dormmates take poorly to his blood status, and the darling is the first to welcome him, or maybe ol' moldy voldy has tasked him with extracting something from the reader.

no matter what jumpstarts his obsession, it develops at an alarmingly fast rate, one week he's glancing over at them in class, the next he's invading their thoughts whilst they sleep and following them in the halls.

his darling likely won't take too easily to his sudden interest in them, they've already been dealing with several unsettling slytherins for years, and are probably always on guard.

not like mattheo cares. if he wants to be close to them, he will. he knows draco and his gang have to treat him with courtsey if they want their families to stay in the dark lords good graces, as does his darling. so he inserts himself (quite violently) into his darlings life.

it should be harder than it is considering his short temperament and his darlings cautious nature, but he's able to understand his darling on an intense level due to his inherited legilimency.

no matter how uncomfortable his darling is around him, he can just invade their mind and lock them in a room with him if he wants to spend time with them. and he always gets what he wants.

he seldom reveals that he is reading their mind, lest they feel the need to develop occlumency. it also gives him a kick knowing their raw thoughts, he could never even say a word to his darling and still know them better than anyone else does. including the other slytherins.

deep down mattheo's incredibly insecure about his connection with his darling; out of theo, blaise, goyle, enzo, draco, he's known them for the least amount of time. he's the only half-blood. he's evil incarnate son of the dark lord himself. he'd only bring them pain and suffering but he can't bring himself to let go of them either.

whilst theo, draco, enzo and even goyle will confess their affection for their darling, and perhaps admit to what they've done, mattheo will only do the latter, and does not provide any context as to why he hexed weaslette after the darling complimented her quidditch skills, nor will he elaborate on why he must take showers at the exact same time as his darling everyday.

BLAISE ZABINI (cast louis cordice):

blaise shares his concealed affection for the darling. you could be none the wiser to his deep seeded affetion for you for years only to suddenly be told that he's your betrothed and now he refers to himself as your fiance and invites you to sleep in his bed as if it's the most normal thing ever.

among them all, blaise is the most calm and calculated. he knows that following his darling around and monopolising their interactions makes him look bad but sometimes he just can't help it. he has to sneer at granger who the darling got paired with in potions, and make remarks about how disgusting muggle and mudbloods are.

but he doesn't think he's better than muggleborns; he thinks he's better than everyone. i think blaise is the most likely to develop an obsession for a shallow reason, maybe the readers is aphrodite personified, hails from a prominent pureblood family that his mother is encouraging him to marry into or is incredibly intelligent, their actual character couldn't matter less to him. from the moment he decides they're his, they're his.

blaise is uniquely one of the only ones who actually wants his darling to love and show him affection of their own accord (meaning he would be nice enough to give them amortentia).

he wants them to be happy, but he also wants them to be entirely dependent on him. he takes on a sort of big brotherly role, he encourages them to eat and sleep well. he wants to be the one they ask opinions on outfits, schoolwork, ect. he thinks if they rely on him for everything, it'll be impossible for them to leave.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE (fancast louis patridge):

out of all of them, enzo is by far the 'softest', as mentioned in the previous post, he's the 'sane, normal' one out of all of them. he doesn't act strangely creepy (sorry blaise it's true), disturbingly controlling (don't deny it mattheo), possessive, obsessive or devoted to them. he comes across as the 'best friend', the sidekick in every romance novel that offers advice and stays out of the drama.

this is because he initially see's his fixation on his darling as nothing but a desire to protect them from those lunatics he and his darling call 'friends'. but why does his heart drop when he see's them getting pulled into a room by mattheo, or when blaise stares at them as if they are a veela. it's not jealousy it's concern for his poor mate. yeah, that's it.

and why can't he stand to be left out of their attempts to evade the others, or when they don't confide in him, whether their troubles are slytherin related or not.

he's probably the only one who realises how messed up what they all do is, the rest justify it, but when enzo eventually gives in to his obsession he doesn't pretend to be in the right. he's apologetic but he just can't let them go.

the only thing that would set him off would be them distancing themselves from him. he can handle sharing, but the idea of his darling avoiding him, not viewing him as the safe haven from the rest really drives him to insanity.

i also think lorenzo would be the one who convinces everyone to share their darling once shit hits the fan and everyone wants to take the reader for themself.

GREGORY GOYLE (cast josh herdman):

goyle is honestly just happy he gets to be around his darling. yeah, it would be nice if he could have them to himselves, and not just be a lackey for draco to sabotage the others. maybe his darling treats him with a bit more benevolence and he's grown attached to them over the years.

always willing to lend a helping hand, i think he's the least possessive out of all of them, and is best characterised as a devoted yandere. whilst the rest of them want to maintain some level of control over the reader, he's content just being near them. he doesn't even have to talk to them but it's a plus.

i wonder if he's actually as bad at school as he acts or if he just doesn't bother listening so that the darling has to dedicate time to tutoring him. no one knows.

goyle will really have to fight tooth and nail to be apart of the sharing arrangement enzo, draco, theo, mattheo and blaise somehow eventually come to. (that i will expand upon in a future post because this is getting long).

[calumsargwife]

"You Are In Love"

calum hood x fem!reader

summary: the journey of how you and Calum found out you are in love.

warnings: use of cigarettes and mentions of alcohol, a little bit of bad language (if i let something out let me know!)

word count: 4.7k (damn)

note: well this one is completely based on the song from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift. i know it took a while but here it is, it's the longest i've ever written. i don't know if someone's gonna read this since it's so long but since you guys seemed to like the first one i wrote i decided to post this one. i never wrote something like this, so i hope you like it!! (English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors, sorry!)

One look, dark room. Meant just for you. Time moved too fast. You play it back. Light-hearted joke. No proof, not much. But you saw enough.

It was one of the many parties that took place at Ashton's house, people gathering for some reason to celebrate. The man honestly loved being the host, always making sure all of his guests were having a good time. The house was in a homely atmosphere (something Ashton always made sure was there), there was a little alcohol involved but nothing too crazy, the music was just the right volume and it was something everyone could dance to. There was good food and probably some fun board game that would make everyone a little more drunk.

It had all started about an hour ago when Calum decided to show up. It was cold, a November night where despite the weeks in advance, you could already feel the Christmas spirit.

Calum would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was going to see you after the last date you two had. Before knocking on the door of the house, he briefly remembered the last outing that you shared, it was incredible.

After so long Calum had finally dared to confess his feelings for you, one of his best friends in the whole world. And you, who was completely surrendered at the boy's feet, said that you felt the same. You two met five years ago and connected instantly, not knowing how or why but it happened and both of you were so happy, you felt that the time you had with each other was never enough to stop being surprised. Being friends first had given the two of them a kind of comfort like no other.

And that's how it was, in the last few weeks you shared several dates and everything was going great, you already knew each other but with all this that was happening, you learned even more things. Everything was getting more serious and Calum was scared, but he liked it.

Once inside the house, Calum took off his coat and scanned the room looking to meet your eyes, and the moment that happened, he gave you a look that was meant only for you. A look that Calum only saved for when he looked at you. A look that made you blush in the best way.

However, Calum quickly found himself being greeted by his friends. You sighed but didn't complain, you repeated in your mind the moment in which your eyes connected and you couldn't help but feel how your breathing stopped slightly because of those eyes that you had learned to love so much in this last few years.

It all ended up being just a quick glance. The night continued and after a while, you ran into Calum (well, he ran into you). He was wearing a black shirt that accentuated his figure perfectly, you would have loved to take him in your arms at that very moment. He knew that, he had worn this shirt because he knew you would like it.

You met about an hour after Calum had arrived, he was having a good time with his friends but at some point he felt that they were holding him back too much from being able to have a chat with you. 'Who am I kidding?' That was the first thing he thought when he saw you again, Calum had been wanting to talk to you all night. You were turning your back on him while looking at the big city from the balcony of the apartment. You had on a beautiful black silk dress, it left your back bare, something that drove Calum crazy.

"Missing me already?" Calum joked after he finally found you alone "I bet you're getting bored without me." He assured in a teasing tone. He approached you and analyzed you, you were wearing a gold necklace and your nails were painted red, you held a glass with some alcohol. His hand gently brushed your arm and you could feel an electrifying touch that woke up every fiber inside you. You love how he makes you feel.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his very confident statement. "I was getting along pretty well without you, actually." You smiled and looked sincerely into his eyes this time. "I missed you." You could see how his eyes were filled with intrigue at what you had said, waiting for a reconfirmation. "I really did."

Calum smiled sweetly and couldn't help but look away from your beautiful eyes for a second to calm down. He really didn't want to blush right now. "Well, I'm glad. I've been thinking about you all night."

It might seem like a simple thing but it really makes you happy to hear that he thought of you the same way you thought of him. You liked knowing you were on his mind.

Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight. The light reflects. The chain on your neck. He says, "Look up". And your shoulders brush. No proof, one touch. But you felt enough.

Of course your night didn't end there. Calum proposed that you spend the night at his house and you immediately said yes. The truth is that the time you had spent at the party had not been enough for you two.

You felt a kind of excitement as Calum drove home. You guys weren't talking much in the car, the background music set the mood perfectly and you didn't need anything to talk about either. Small talk was enough to keep you entertained along the way.

Once at Calum's house, you guys set about relaxing. Still formally dressed, you were sitting in the chair that Calum had located on the terrace of his apartment. A perfect place to look at the stars.

Two cups of coffee at midnight, one for you and one for Calum. Drinking coffee gives you the little hope that you could stay up longer just to spend more time together, because it wasn't enough, it was never enough. You two loved to talk, you always had something to talk about and it never got boring. Maybe at some point you didn't have a topic of conversation, but you guys invented something so you could have an excuse to be together. Because it wasn't enough. Calum didn't know how to explain this insatiable feeling of wanting to always be chatting with you, something that really surprised him since he was normally a person who enjoyed silence.

You smiled sweetly at something Calum had said and looked away from him so you could look at your phone for a few seconds to see the time. It was half past twelve at night, already entering the early morning. You smiled to yourself at the feeling of being calm with the boy you liked.

You were wearing a gold chain with a 'C' charm on it, a cheesy and stupid gift Calum had given you for your birthday a couple of years ago. He could appreciate how it shone in the moonlight.

Speaking of the moon, Calum realized that it was at its highest point. He looked at you and spoke to you softly, since you were still looking at your cell phone. He said "Look up" and you immediately looked up from your device. You settled into the chair with the cup of coffee in your hand and you felt how his shoulder lightly brushed against yours.

And that was it. That was enough to know what you felt.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you.

Calum was fully focused on the moon, leaving you a perfect view of his profile. The place was silent and you could still clearly hear the feeling that you now knew you had. You were afraid of being stunned by this, but actually, the opposite happened, it was all you wanted to hear.

It was so clear, so loud and so strong. You felt a pressure in your chest, that pressure was just letting you know that what you were feeling was actually true. Your insides were full of heartwarming thoughts in just a second, but you loved every single second of it.

The fact that the place was completely silent and that Calum had no idea what you were thinking about added a bit of fun to all this, if only he knew.

You were completely immersed in this new sensation, which was leaving you completely cut off from all the other things that might be going on around you.

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You returned home only the next day in the afternoon, the sky was beginning to darken. After a little argument about Calum wanting to take you home and you saying it wasn't necessary, you were finally making your way home on your own. You wanted to get some air and think about what had been revealed to you last night.

As you walked home you could feel the refreshing air in your hair and in your arms. You clung a little more to Calum's sweatshirt.

And that pressure in your chest came back. You've never liked a sensation so much. You couldn't help but smile in love as you looked at the scenery around you. The night was beginning for some.

You loved him. You loved Calum. You love him.

You just couldn't believe it. The idea of falling in love for you was something that was long gone and not something you expected to find again. You especially didn't expect to fall in love with Calum.

But at the same time you were not surprised. Loving Calum was so easy, he was just perfect. You couldn't not love him. He made it look so easy. And you loved loving him, it was something that just filled you up inside and you were so happy that the person you love is Calum.

You continued walking down what would soon be a dark street. Focusing on the sound of your shoes or how the things you found on the way home reminded you of him. Everything reminded you of him.

You can see it with the lights out, lights out. You are in love, true love. You are in love.

Once you got home you closed the front door and leaned your back against it. You sighed while smiling. The whole room was dark, the lights still not on.

In one of the furniture where you had photos with your friends you came to distinguish your favorite photo of the whole house. It was a photo of you and Calum hugging in front of the stage where he and the boys were going to give their show later. There were hours left for the concert and you took advantage of the moment to take pictures. You smiled to yourself remembering.

God, you are in love.

Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt. He keeps his word.

It was a Sunday morning at Calum's house. The night before for the two of you had been magical. The two of you hadn't felt this connection with someone in a long time and you knew it.

You were lying on the bed, giving each other lazy kisses on the lips, on the neck, on the cheeks, on the arms, everywhere. Calum wanted to kiss every inch of you.

Calum sighed and moved slightly away from you. "I'm gonna make us breakfast, okay?" He said to then give you one last kiss on the cheek while inhaling your sweet perfume.

"Okay" You replied with a goofy smile as you watched him go to the kitchen.

A little later you stretched one last time and got out of bed too, looking for something to wear. You looked at one of the shirts Calum wears to train, you decided on a navy blue one.

As you walked to the kitchen you remembered what Calum had told you before you guys fell asleep. "I'll be here in the morning." And he kept his word, he was there. You looked at him before entering the kitchen, he was making coffee and toast for the two of you.

"The coffee smells good." You said as you walk into the kitchen. Brushing his arm with your hand when you passed by.

"I hope it tastes just as good as it smells." He answered with a smile without turning to look at you yet, taking another slice of bread to toast.

You chuckled softly, remembering the times Calum had been disappointed in how his own coffee turned out.

At the sound of your laughter Calum turned and looked at you. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you in his shirt, admiring how well it looked on you. He would be lying if he said he doesn't want that to be his sight every morning. He loved having you in all his everyday things.

"That color suits you." He said admiring you while he wrapped his arms around your waist and left you a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you." You answered while looking away so that your blush is not so obvious.

Calum chuckled very softly, keeping the smile on his face. He tucked one of the hairs that was on your face behind your ear and that made you turn your head to look at him.

Calum couldn't help but get completely lost in your eyes, it was something that completely mesmerized him and he knew it, he always knew it. From the moment he met you, your eyes were what he liked the most about you.

You were also completely lost by him, admiring the details of his face, seeing how there was a slight beard on his jaw, something that you knew he was going to shave later. You analyzed the small freckles around his nose, they had appeared after spending a day in the sun at the beach with his friends.

Then you raised your eyes to his and they stayed that way, looking at each other. Calum absolutely watching every move you made, admiring everything.

You don't know how long you stayed like that until you could smell the burnt smell of toast and Calum's scared face, who broke away from you in a second and immediately went to see the toaster.

A moment later he turned around and looked at you with a pout. "They burned."

Let out a laugh and you approached to give him a kiss on his pout. "We can make pancakes." You proposed with a sweet smile.

Calum smiled, completely melting at your smile. "We can, but none of those cute little eyes of yours when I'm cooking. I don't want burnt pancakes."

And for once, you let go. Of your fears and your ghosts. One step, not much. But it said enough.

Today was the day. 5 Seconds of Summer would release a new song. One that Calum personally wrote. And to say that the boy was nervous was an understatement.

He was feeling very scared for some reason. He didn't understand why. This song was beautiful and he was very proud of it, it was also an extremely vulnerable song that had taken him months to write, he was afraid of looking too fragile in the public eye and that people might not like it.

To be honest, it's a song he wrote for you, although he doesn't know if you were aware of this. The song talked about what it was like to let someone into your heart again and how scared he was to suffer again and to let go of all those ghosts from the past that haunt him.

God, he was nervous.

The boys had proposed to meet up for the launch, but Calum declined, declaring that this time he'd rather stay at his house with you by his side.

You two were sitting on the terrace of Calum's house. He was smoking a cigarette for the nerves and you were having some vanilla tea (it was your favorite and Calum had bought it especially for you). His leg was bobbing up and down as a sign of his current anxiety. You put your hand on his thigh wanting him to stop and you looked at him with a little tenderness.

"Cal, what's going on? You've been very nervous for the last few hours." My God, Calum hated how well you could read him.

He never talks about this, with anyone. Talking about his feelings is something he struggles with a lot, always in the end transforming what happens to him into songs. But Calum knew that talking about this with you was the right thing to do, knowing that if he wants to be with you then he has to start trusting you with these kinds of things.

"It's just... It's been a while since I wrote something like that, y'know... I know I always write about past experiences but this song is about the two of us and I don't know..." Calum sighed trying to collect his thoughts. "I guess I'm afraid of looking weak in front of everyone, I guess, I don't know..." It made him angry that he couldn't tell you exactly what he was thinking, he didn't know what he was feeling at that moment.

"Calum, the song you wrote is great, it's vulnerable, yes, but that makes it even more meaningful. I think that's going to make people like it more, you know?" You caressed his leg in search of being able to give him comfort.

"I know, I know..." Calum prepared himself for what he was going to say, it seemed to him something very stupid and meaningless but he knew it was necessary. He took another drag on his cigarette and turned so he could look you in the eye. "I think it scares me that once you know how I really feel you're going to run from me." He explained with a slightly shaky voice.

You couldn't help feeling how your heart softened for him. You brought your hand to his cheek and he leaned into it. You felt him visibly relax at your touch. "That's not gonna happen and you know it, right?"

He nodded as he studied your face with those sweet brown eyes of his. Calum didn't tell you but he really felt a weight less on his shoulders. He could feel how he was getting closer and closer to a certain feeling that he had been avoiding for a long time.

"I don't want to write a heartbroken song about you."

You kiss on sidewalks. You fight and you talk.

Calum loved walking with you down the street. Unlike his past relationships, this time he was not afraid to go out with you and show how much he liked you, he is not ashamed and wants to show the world who he's with.

But at the same time he wants to protect you, he doesn't like how public his life can be sometimes. He liked the feeling of his hands rubbing against yours when you are walking down a street with a lot of people, he liked having something just for him and that no one else can take it away from him.

His favorite part is when you're finally on some empty sidewalk and he can finally kiss you freely, he's dying to kiss you anywhere, but he knows that if he wants everything to remain as private as it is now, then he has to take certain precautions.

However, this has brought several discussions in the relationship.

"Why are you so angry?" Calum asked once he closed the door to his apartment, you glared at him a few feet from him.

"It annoys me that every time we walk into a room with the least amount of people, you immediately let go of my hand as if I were some kind of plague!" You knew why Calum was doing it but at the same time you couldn't help but get frustrated. Sometimes you wish Calum wasn't a public figure.

"I don't treat you like you're a plague! I just want to keep things between us!" Calum was frowning and breathing heavily.

"I understand that you want to have your private life but sometimes I feel that you exceed yourself! You don't want anyone to see us at all and it's tiring me!" You felt like a fool wanting to cry about this, but you couldn't help but make your eyes go glassy with anguish.

Calum sighed before answering, thinking about what he was going to tell you. The other day you guys had a fight over the exact same issue before going into a party. "If you know why I do it then why are you angry?!" He yelled at you, feeling how anger began to enter his body.

"Because sometimes it seems like you're ashamed of me!" You angrily yelled at him all your frustrations, trying to make him understand.

"You know that's not how I feel." He stated with a rather serious tone, you've never heard him talk like that.

"I would know how you feel if you would just tell me!" You are not going to deny that you felt a weight less after saying that. Calum always had trouble expressing his feelings but with such crucial things it was important that he tell you.

He clenched his jaw. "Are you always going to reproach me for the same thing? You know it's something I'm working on! It's not easy and yet you keep insisting!" Calum ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Of course I'm going to keep insisting if I don't see any change! It's always the same, I have to pressure you to tell me what's wrong with you and I don't want it to be like that anymore." You ran your hand under your eyeliner to wipe away a stubborn tear that had escaped. "I feel that you don't trust me to tell me your things and I don't know what I have to do anymore..." Now your face was covered by tears in a matter of seconds.

Calum completely collapsed seeing you cry. He quickly approached you and took your head in his hands to kiss your hair and then snuggle you against his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you're right, sorry." He gave you small kisses on the temple in search of giving you comfort. "I'm sorry, you're right."

One night he wakes. Strange look on his face. Pauses, then says. 'You're my best friend'. And you knew what it was. He is in love.

It was another one of the nights where Calum stayed the night at your house. You two were asleep in your bed, snuggled up to each other, him being that natural warmer that he is.

Calum was lying on your chest, you were cuddling lying on your bed. About an hour ago he had fallen asleep after a tiring day in the studio with the boys. You, on the other hand, weren't sleepy, so you stayed on your phone, fooling around on social media.

Suddenly, you felt how he moved over you and how he began to wake up.

Calum moved off of you to lie next to you, he had a weird look on his face, you were trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Then he looked at you. "You're my best friend."

And you knew, you knew what was happening to him. He was in love. In love with you.

"You're my best friend too, Cal." You smiled sweetly at him and he could feel how he melted, your smiles always killed him in the best way. You put your hand on his jaw and brought him in for a sweet, passionate kiss, making sure it was one that would take his breath away.

"You're going to kill me one day." Calum hid his smile against your arm and blushed. You laughed and stroked his curls tenderly.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you. You can feel it on the way home, way home, you. You can see it with the lights out, lights out. You are in love, true love.

It was days later where Calum was returning from the studio to his house, he was driving and found himself stuck in traffic. Too distracted thinking about you to be bothered by the number of cars.

You guys hadn't seen each other all week due to your respective jobs and he couldn't miss you more. It was night and not having the lights on inside the car made everything dark, his mind was too busy to put on music, so he enjoyed the silence there was.

Not getting you out of his head, he started humming your favorite song. Giving little taps on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

And that's when it hit him.

"Oh, shit." Calum stopped everything he was doing to focus on what he was thinking.

He couldn't help but think a 'really?'. Hell, he hadn't felt this in a long time.

Unconsciously his heart began to race. His head was going a thousand an hour and the only thing that appeared in his mind was your name.

He couldn't believe what he was feeling. A kind of pressure settled in his chest and he loved it. Calum couldn't help but smile as he ran his hands over his face and tried to hide the smile he had, even though no one was there to see it.

"I love her. I fucking love her." Calum declared as he looked out the window, the car in silence after his confession. He felt himself blushing even though no one had told him anything and how he had an incredible desire to see you.

And for the first time in his entire life, after so many broken hearts and failed relationships, Calum wasn't afraid to love. He didn't feel that irreparable fear that something was going to go wrong, he felt love, true love.

He used to be scared, so, so scared. Fear that leaving another relationship will leave him completely destroyed and without any hope of ever being loved again. Calum always had that feeling that perhaps he was destined to be alone, believing that this had been proven after so many situations in his past.

But everything changed when you arrived. From the first moment your eyes met, he knew that you had come to change his life. You became the light of his life in just a second and that scared him at first. But he didn't care, he thought if he had to have his heart broken for you then so be it. However, now he knew that it would not be like that, you were not going to leave and he knew that you were going to take care of his heart perfectly like no one had ever done before.

Calum was sure you were meant to be together.

Because he was in love.

And he wanted to believe in love for once.