#since that seems to be something that their people would get way more often

[marzipanandminutiae]

Friend Marzi, why do we have an inclination to believe that all historical clothing was very heavy? Fabrics varied in lightness and for the very heat of summer for example an all-silk or all-muslin ensemble could be made very light and breathable if necessary, even foregoing implements like boning, etc. Like, there are ways to not be dragging your skirts around.

Working people and people with active hobbies were already wearing fewer layers anyway, so we shouldn't expect them to be encumbered. Why do we anyway?

Friend Tumblr User Chasingtheskyline! Hello!

(This answer will focus primarily on conventionally feminine clothing, since that's my area of expertise. Just to disclaim.)

I think it's because of the layering, really. And the idea that, as you touched on, Only Rich People Wore All That (not so much- the basic makeup of chemise/combinations, maybe drawers post-1820s, corset/stays, at least one petticoat, skirt, bodice for women was pretty consistent across most of the social ladder during the 18th and 19th centuries at least) so of COURSE it's heavy and impractical. And as we all know, rich people didn't have lives or do things! They just lounged around being rich and not moving! </s>

We're used to one layer of our mostly-polyester clothing being extremely warming in summer because. It's polyester. Breathability is not something people think about much nowadays, since we're so used to just exposing as much skin as possible to cool down. Ergo, the idea that it's layers of lightweight fabric doesn't really occur to people, I think.

Another element, I think, may be that some of these people have carried reproduction historical garments but never worn them. Or weighed them in a heap on a scale- yes, really -and never taken into account the weight distribution when they're on a body. I've owned garments that were a bear to carry, but perfectly comfortable to wear.

Also, you know. We've long had a vested interest in making our own garments seem like The Best Most Advanced Garments. You can find articles from as early as the 1920s decrying Victorian "trailing skirts and trailing hair" as unhygienic and uncomfortable Never mind that the ADULTS saying this would have known full well that shorter skirts were commonplace for situations where Excessive Dirt would be present and grown women wore their hair up. (Also, you know. Unless you're licking your hem, your skirts cannot get you sick.)

Either you're getting only the experiences of women who hated what they wore before- which would somehow be the same fashion writers who once declared that the gowns of 1915 were the best, or 1910, or 1905 -or they had a vested interest in selling something to the public: in this case, the hottest, newest clothes (and hairstyles that required more regular trips to the hairdresser than long hair pinned up). Of course you get those writers calling earlier clothing heavy- they're trying to get people to buy rayon flapper dresses!

Now, does that mean that nobody in history found their clothing heavy? Of course not. One of Amelia Bloomer's key complaints about the fashions of the 1840s and early 50s was the many layers of petticoats women often wore to create the fashionable skirt shape- and while I'm often loath to take dress reformers as sole arbiters of women's opinion, the invention of the cage crinoline/hoop skirt was widely hailed as a marvel for enabling big skirts with much less weight.

But you're so right that this perception is extremely exaggerated nowadays. I do my best to fight it- had this conversation with a colleague today, as I was wearing a long-sleeved blouse of cotton voile and a long cotton skirt to work in 80-degree (F) weather -but. Well. It DOES get frustrating at times.

[alphajocklover]

Man I'm just some scrawny skater and always have been. I always make fun of meatheads at the gym for being obsessed with size and power, but recently I watched the Hulk movie and I think I get it... The idea of becoming unstoppable and reigning supreme.

My friends have been worried about me since I've stopped hanging out with me and started hitting the gym but I wish I could just Hulk out without the whole 'Hulk speak' part. Something about letting my inner beast take over like the other dudes in the gym is tempting. Could you help me out?

The thing everyone forgets about the hulk is that, after decades of being in the comics, Bruce Banner is far more complicated than the movies would suggest. Sure, it started out like all the movies do, with Banner being transformed into the Hulk by some terrible accident, switching between forms whenever angered, but over the years and the dozens upon dozens of different storylines the Hulk has become so much more complicated. Over the years Bruce Banner has gained more than just one alternate personality. There’s himself, of course, ther nerdy genius. Then there’s the classic hulk, dumb angry and strong. But there have been many others over the years. Joe Fixit, the gray hulk with the mind and personality of a Vegas mobster, Doc Green/professor Hulk, a version of the hulk with both the brains and the brawn, and Green Scar, a cunning warrior who ruled an entire planet (for a short time). These are only a few of his many different forms and personalities. So, if you wanna be like the Hulk… it’s going to be more than just the nerd and the hunk.

Let’s start with the basics. That is to say, let’s start with you. The Skater. Your original personality, the one who makes fun of meathead jocks and doesn’t give a fuck about being strong. Or at least didn’t until recently. But after watching that movie… something’s changed inside of you. It awakened parts of yourself you didn’t even know were there. And I’m not speaking metaphorically. It seems that certain triggers now cause you to change into other forms, other people. At first they presented themselves as the sudden urge to workout and desire to be a jock, but now they don’t need to be just urges. They’ve developed into full on identities. When you’re not in a different form you’ll revert to your original self, the skinny skater you used to be… but that won’t be very often. Your other selves are way too greedy to give the pathetic little skater his fair share.

Next is your hulk. But for you it’d be more accurate to call him the Hunk. Beefy, muscular, dumb and sexy as hell. He’s everything you used to hate and everything you now long to be. An alpha male, a jock, a himbo, a stud. Your inner beast. He's the one who goes to the gym with your new bros, flirts with anything that moves, and flexes almost constantly. He isn’t brought forth by anger like the real hulk is though. You turn into the Hunk when horny. Makes sense. Just like how the Hulk is always angry, the Hunk is always horny. A complete and utter fuckboy stud, and until you get control over his wild libido, you’ll be turning into him almost constantly.

After that is your Joe Fixit. Let’s call him Joe. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. Just like in the original comics Joe isn’t summoned by an emotion, but by the night. He’s drawn out by the thrill of the nightlife, by clubs and secret backrooms and grinding against each other in the dark while the beat pumps through you like a drug. He spends the first half of the night as a bouncer, using his beef, strength and sometimes even his charm to keep certain people out. The second half he spends flirting with chicks, dancing at the club, partying, drinking, and on a good night fucking his latest babe in the clubs VIP room. The best part is that he never has to deal with a hangover, and whichever you who wakes up in the morning is always well rested.

Your next form is the one who has it all. Your Doc Green, the one with the brains and the brawn. He actually is a med student who is trying to become a doctor, so let’s call him Doc. Charming, manly, and muscular, but also sensitive, kind and intelligent. His trigger is less clear, but you know he comes out when you need him. Whether its for a shift at work, to charm a girl or guy you actually like enough to date and not just fuck, he’s there. What he’s really good at though is making money. For a med student he’s shockingly loaded, probably because he set up a very successful onlyfans account for each of you. You, the regular you, watch his videos sometime. You always turn into the Hunk before the video ends.

Finally is the warrior. The green scar. You just call him Jock. Because that’s what he is. He comes out fairly rarely, only when you’re feeling very competitive, usually during sports events and bodybuilding contests. He’s tough, rough, and never backs down. He’s surprisingly intelligent, but uses most of this intelligence on strategy and tactics. He’s the perfect team leader, and is incredibly dominant on and off the field.

Between the Hunk, Joe, Doc, and Jock, there isn’t much time for you anymore. But this is what you wanted, want you fucking love being each of them. You finally released your inner beast. All four of them.

**hey there! Hope you guys liked the story. I know most people go a different direction when it comes to ‘hulking out’ but I thought maybe something a little different like this would be more interesting. I hope whoever requested the story enjoys it, and that you don’t mind me showing off my inner comic book geek**

[hauntedestheart]

Security Footage - Body Swaps (Part 2)

A continuation of the story started here- fair warning, this is a long one

The instant Andy realized the swap was starting he retreated to his own room, managing to stumble there even as he felt his muscles withering and his bones shifting inside of him, and he locked the door behind him so Trevor couldn't follow. Andy knew that his boyfriend just wanted to be helpful but these changes were often more uncomfortable than he liked to let on, and he preferred to shield his sweet little guy from as much of the messiness as he could.

Besides that, he always preferred to have a moment to himself to take stock of the changes he'd be stuck with for the duration of the latest swap and this... this was gonna be a rough one.

Andy stared in the mirror and a pudgy old white guy stared back- he knew his dad would lecture him about calling someone in their early fifties "old" but since Andy had been about half that age a few hours ago, he sure as hell was gonna be overdramatic about it. He was bald at 23! That wasn't fair.

He ran his hands over his smooth head and shuddered, which made him even more disturbed because his belly wobbled with him when he moved- his abs would never do that to him. Experimentally he lifted his arm up and tried to flex, but the flesh on his arm just hung downwards instead of rising up like he was used to. It didn't seem like this guy had even looked at a gym in years! Andy didn't understand how some people were able to live without muscles, and he sorely wanted his back.

He tried in vain to make his pecs bounce but the masses on his current chest were sagging fat rather than trained pectorals so they just sat there- it was a strange experience because his brain knew the command to make it happen, knew where the muscles were supposed to be, but the body just wouldn't respond. None of the bodies he switched into could ever make their chest move and he was sick of it, sick of having the things that he worked for taken away from him. Call it vanity or whatever but his physicality had been a core part of his identity ever since he was a kid and he didn't want to be away from it for a second, let alone let somebody else have it.

But the worst part of getting a new body was always checking out the oh-so-important organ that no amount of working out would change, something he had to actually lift up his gut to see this time, and the sight of the wrinkly cock and balls now hanging between his mushy thighs made him want to cry. Size wasn't everything, Andy knew that, but he also wasn't going to lie and pretend that being well hung wasn't a ton of fun, so going from packing the kind of equipment that made other guys jealous to a well below average penis was just... emasculating.

And to top it all off, his knees were killing him.

Andy now kept clothing in a variety of sizes in his closet for occasions like this and he shuffled through them robotically, grimacing when he realized that he was probably going to need the largest sizes to accommodate the waistline he was stuck with. He settled on a pair of sweatpants with an elastic waistband and an XL cotton tee that still rode up slightly and exposed a hint of a hairy belly, and he hated how he looked but at least he felt marginally better once his borrowed body was covered up.

"Can I come in?" Trevor called from the hallway, and Andy hesitated. His natural instinct whenever this shit happened was to hide away in shame, to not let Trevor see him like this, but he knew he needed his boyfriend's help to fix things so he swallowed his pride and unlocked the door.

Trevor slipped into the room almost shyly, keeping his eyes on the floor for a moment, before working up the courage to look at what he would be stuck with as a boyfriend for the time being. One thing Andy admired about Trevor was his poker face- he was very controlled with his emotions, especially compared to the way Andy expressed his feelings with his entire physicality -but despite his placid expression Andy couldn't imagine he was feeling anything other than disgust at the body before him.

"You hate it," Andy's shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to collapse backwards onto his bed like a sack of potatoes, wincing at the whine that the springs gave beneath his weight. He stared blankly at the ceiling and sighed. "I'm a gross old man now and you're never gonna be attracted to me again."

"No, it's just-" Trevor stumbled over his words for a moment as he thought of the best way to phrase things, biting his lip and quirking his head to the side. "It's just the clothes I think, I'm not used to seeing a guy like that in athleisure. You look like you should be wearing a suit or something. That's all."

He waited for a response but Andy didn't say anything, he just kept staring up at the ceiling with his arms spread out like he wanted his hands as far away from his new body as possible, and Trevor's heart broke a little. Admittedly the man Andy had swapped with was... not exactly Trevor's type, but that didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was Andy inside, Trevor's boyfriend who he loved for more than just his body, so he got over himself and laid on the bed next to his now-middle-aged boyfriend.

He rested his head on Andy's temporary chest and the position was a strange sort of parody of the beginning of the evening, as if someone had taken a snapshot of the young couple lying together and used photoshop to replace the golden skinned hunk with a pasty dad bod, but when Trevor closed his eyes it didn't matter what they looked like. As long as he could feel Andy's heart beating, then they could be together.

"I know this is hard for you but you don't have to worry, we'll fix this," Trevor whispered soothingly, and he pressed a kiss into the side of Andy's chin. "We always do. You'll be back to your stupidly pretty self in no time, okay?"

Andy grumbled something incoherent and likely whiney, but he wrapped his arms around Trevor and pulled the skinny young man closer to his side again, which helped both of them relax a bit.

"At least I know who this guy is, he's my classics professor," Andy finally said, and he shuddered uncomfortably. "It's so fucked up to think that I was just sitting there in class while he was watching me, thinking about how he was gonna steal my body."

"Well, it's always nice to have a lead," Trevor mused, half-formed plans already springing into his mind. He nudged Andy on the side. "And he's local too. Remember that time the guy you swapped with lived on a boat? That was a hassle."

"Don't remind me," Andy gave a small chuckle, his laugh hitting the same cadence even with a different voice box. "I got my body back with sunburn on my ass because he kept sunbathing nude, I could barely sit down for a week."

Trevor smiled at the memory of the week Andy spent awkwardly shuffling around. "I'm aware, I was the one who had to rub aloe on your butt twice a day."

"Don't act like you didn't love that," Andy turned his neck to try to playfully bat his head against Trevor but he hissed with pain as he pulled a muscle he didn't realize would be stiff. He rubbed his fingers into his neck and groaned. "Honestly I don't even blame this guy for swapping with me, I feel so gross right now."

"It could be worse?" Trevor offered a weak smile, but his boyfriend remained unamused.

"Could be better too," Andy grumbled, and he glared down at his crotch (which he couldn't even see thanks to his new gut). "You know, just once, I'd like to get a new body and find out my dick is bigger. Is that too much to ask?"

"I mean... kinda?" Trevor rolled his eyes- he'd never cease to find it amusing what a size queen his boyfriend was. "Andy, if your dick gets any bigger you're gonna hurt somebody. The rest of us make do with perfectly normal sized genitalia, maybe it'll do you some good to spend some time living like us common men live."

Andy raised his eyebrow and shot his boyfriend some major side eye. "First off, you know I love your dick and would gladly take it any day over this one," he paused in his rant to bury his face in Trevor's hair for a moment a plant a kiss there. "But more importantly, let me point out that you benefit from my big dick more than anyone, Trev, so you can act cute about it but until we fix this you're the one getting screwed by this thing." He bounced his hips up and down, watching as Trevor's eyes were drawn to his diminished manhood, and he smirked. His hand snaked down and tweaked Trevor's butt. "You're not so above it all- your cute little ass has been spoiled so I know you'll be missing my big guy in no time."

"Hey, I top sometimes!" Trevor protested- weakly, but he protested nonetheless. Being a twink didn't mean he was always the bottom, especially since it would be a shame to waste an ass like Andy's. "You like it when I fuck you. Maybe this is my moment to take over as the big man in the relationship!"

"Oh yeah? You're gonna go top full time?" Andy scoffed and rolled over on the bed, lifting himself up on his hands and knees (despite the way his joints protested) and putting Professor Smith's less-than-impressive buttocks on full display. He twisted his face into an exaggerated smolder and wiggled his hips at Trevor like a challenge. "Doesn't this look so sexy? Have fun going to town on this guy."

Trevor stared at the shapeless expanse of wrinkled flesh Andy was presenting to him and his mind drifted back to his boyfriend's real ass, that toned bubble of perfection that some old man was running around doing god knows what with. He loved his boyfriend for more than just his body of course, but if he had the option of which butt he wanted to sleep next to at night... well there was no contest really.

"Point taken," he admitted with a sigh, holding back a laugh as he watched Andy (still unused to how out-of-shape his new body was) struggle to stand up from the kneeling position he'd placed him in.

Still, always proud when he could get one over on Trevor, Andy smirked and puffed his chest out- a behavioral tic that looked far less impressive now that his chest was sagging man boobs rather than bulging pecs, but it made Trevor's heart swell to see a glimmer of his boyfriend's usual confidence back. Trevor sprang up to his feet as well and smacked Andy on his non-existent behind.

"Now get your flat ass moving so we can get your body back."

🔀

Valencia Street, three blocks west of the college campus, had a nickname: Party Avenue.

Contrary to popular belief, Fraternity Row was actually fairly tame due to the intense restrictions imposed by the school's charter onto affiliated groups- but private residences were not bound by the same rules, so students seeking debauchery had gradually clustered in close proximity until Party Avenue was born. Each weekend, once classes were released, the houses lit up and the students... cut loose.

While school administration vehemently denied the existence of any sort of underage drinking or illegal debauchery anywhere near their campus, faculty were firmly advised (for no particular reason) to stay away from that block on the weekends or risk liability. As such, the street had attained a sort of mythos amongst the teachers of the school as a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah that swallowed their students on the weekend and spat them back out on Monday for class with a hangover.

Such Earthly delights were denied to the professors... but fortunately Bernard Smith was not a professor anymore, he was a twenty-something college student named Andy. And Andy was ready to have some fun on Friday night.

Walking down Party Avenue while flashing lights spilled from windows and muffled music filled the air felt almost illegal to Professor Smith, but cloaked behind his new face none of the passing students gave him a second glance (save for the occasional double take from someone struck by his looks). The older man felt like he'd become one of the explorers he'd studied in grad school, boldly venturing into new territory in search of treasure- except the treasure he was on the hunt for was far more precious than dusty gold or ancient artifacts. No, he was on the lookout for something... fresher.

"Hi there ladies," he winked at a group of passing girls, who glanced him up and down erupted into pleased giggles as they waved back at him.

Bernard continued his journey with a spring in his step that came from feeling like a complete and total stud; thus far, being a hot young man was intoxicating. All of his aches and pains were gone and replaced with a boundless energy that fizzed through his veins and made him feel like he could lift a house and run for miles with it, but he resisted the urge and instead took things nice and slow. There was no rush, and he wanted to enjoy the first night of the rest of his life in this new body. No sense in skipping to dessert, he wanted to enjoy the full five course feast first.

His new cock seemed to disagree with him, perking up eagerly at the sight of every young woman they passed and trying its damndest to tear through his dress pants to get to her, but Bernard could hardly be upset about having such a virile set of tools at his disposal. He'd had more erections in the past hour with Andy's body than he'd had in the past year with his old one!

A stranger to this area without any clue where to go, the professor treated his new penis almost like a compass pointing the way towards the true North that was the pleasure he sought. He didn't know where it was, but he'd know it when he found it.

"Andy?" someone called out as he rounded a corner.

Bernard didn't think much of that and continued walking, ignoring as the voice repeated the name several times, and it wasn't until a boy ran across the street waving his arms and pointing at him that the professor realized that he was the Andy being addressed.

"Andy Douglass?" the young man asked, clearly very excited to see the boy who's body Bernard had stolen, and without asking he greeted Bernard with a one armed hug and a clap on the back. "My man! Remember me? It's Kirk! Long time no see!"

The older man resisted the urge to grimace and pulled away, taking a moment to assess the young man. "Kirk" was a tall, muscular black boy (though not as tall or muscular as Bernard's current body was, he noted proudly) with a relaxed attitude, a devil-may-care smile, and dim eyes- carbon copies of this exact student had filtered through Professor Smith's classroom for years, another brainless jock who only cared about drinking and screwing. He despised the type.

The most notable thing about Kirk was that instead of clothes, he was wearing a stereotypical "bedsheet toga-" one which the professor knew looked nothing like the genuine article would, and he was deeply unimpressed. Still, because this was his life now, he figured he should play nice.

"Oh yes, Kirk! Yes, it's me, Andy," Bernard cleared his throat and prepared to drop into character- he wasn't an old college professor anymore, this was his peer now. He had to talk to him in a language he understood. "Whazzup bro, how are you hanging this evening?"

"I'm chillin', I'm chillin'. Just out with the boys-" Kirk pointed across the street to a gaggle of equally cliche college students, all clad in similar sheet outfits, and they all waved and hollered over at Bernard. The old man gave them a half-hearted wave, barely concealing his disgust, and returned his attention to the one in front of him, who was still staring at him with those dumb eyes of his. "Man, it's crazy to see you out on a Friday night. You kinda disappeared once you started dating that guy- what was his name, Trent? The little guy. How's he doing?"

"Guy?" Now that caught Bernard's attention.

Andy Douglass was dating a boy? he marveled to himself. That would certainly explain why the young man had never flirted with any of the girls from class. The professor had half-suspected that a stud like that must have a girl back home but he would never have guessed about a boy because Andy just seemed so... manly. Subconsciously, the body snatcher reached up and rubbed a finger over the stubble that adorned his strong jaw, arm muscles battling for space with his shoulder, and he shook his head in disbelief. Kids today and their experiments.

Fortunately the many erections Bernard had gotten in this body from glancing at passing girls assured him he was still a staunch heterosexual, but the reveal had still thrown him for a loop. Thank goodness he'd taken this body, lest the women on campus be deprived of its assets!

Realizing that Kirk was still staring at him with a confused look on his face, Bernard cleared his throat (which rumbled rich and low) and responded.

"Oh yes, him. We won't be seeing much more of him anymore, I've turned over a new leaf- turned out the whole boys thing wasn't for me," he shrugged and threw a rueful smile on his face. "Actually, I'm out tonight on the prowl for some female companionship, if you catch my drift."

"Shit, it didn't work out?" Surprise actually brought a bit of life into Kirk's dull eyes as he shook his head sadly. "Sorry man, but hey, it's his loss. He's a fucking dumbass if he let a catch like you go," Kirk turned his head and spat into the street, then looked sidelong at Bernard with a smirk. "But it sounds like what you need to get over him is to get your dick wet."

"Indeed," Bernard agreed heartily, though the crude expression did make him cringe internally, and he spoke more truth than Kirk would understand. "It's been far too long since I've been in the arms of a woman and I'm starving for a screw."

His dick was hard once again just at the mere thought of being with a woman and he had to reach down to adjust himself before the bulge in his pants got too obscene- Kirk watched him struggle with his endowment and gave a laugh.

"Well if I remember anything about Andy, you're not gonna have to go begging for your rebound," the young man scanned Andy's body up and down and gave a whistle of appreciation. "Damn dude, you're looking swole!"

"Swole?" Bernard patted at his face, feeling for swelling. "Where?"

"Everywhere, man, the gym's really paying off," Kirk reached forward and grabbed one of Andy's biceps, giving the firm muscle a squeeze. "The ladies are gonna take one look at those pythons and their panties'll come flying off."

"Oh," Bernard thought. "It's a compliment."

"Yes, I've got quite a remarkable body, don't I?" Bernard muttered, and unable to resist showing off a bit, he made his bicep jump under Kirk's hand. One of his hands flew up and carded through the meadow of locks on top of his head, and he beamed with a mouth full of white teeth. "All of these muscles, this stunning face, and I've got hair! I'm a modern day Adonis."

Rather than being put off by his friend's sudden vanity, Kirk seemed excited by it, actually clapping his hands together and giving a holler in a show of appreciation. Bernard was starting to like him a bit more.

"Hell yeah, dude! Hashtag love yourself, king," he cheered, but then he paused and cocked his head to the side like a dog. "But what's up with the fit though? You're dressed like you're going to a job interview."

Professor Smith looked down at his clothes: a tight red button up dress shirt that hugged his arms (unbuttoned so it would billow open every now and then and allow for a glimpse of his pectorals) with a matching blue tie and some smart dress pants. Admittedly, the dress pants were a bit snug around the rear end (Bernard was half-worried he would burst the seams before the night was up), but otherwise it was a perfectly respectable way to dress for an evening on the town.

Young people have no sense of class, Bernard thought to himself as he eyed Kirk's wrinkled sheet toga.

"I don't know what you mean, I'm dressed to impress," Bernard said defensively, shaking his arms out and adjusting his cuffs a bit. He glared pointedly at Kirk's excuse for an outfit. "Besides, I think it's very rich of you to critique my smart attire when you're literally wrapped in a bedsheet."

"Oh, you like that?" Kirk stuck his tongue out and struck a pose like he was modelling the unsightly garment. "Lee scored an invite to a kegger some some business students are throwing and it's Greek themed, so I'm dressed like fucking Julius Caesar."

Professor Smith grimaced. "Caesar was Roman."

"Whatever," Kirk rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to say same difference, and Bernard was half-tempted to argue before remembering that he wasn't a professor anymore and the ignorance of young men like this was no longer his responsibility. The thought brightened him up considerably, and he was a good mood when Kirk spoke next. "Anyways, this party sounds like it's gonna be lit! You should tag along, we haven't partied together in forever. I can be your wingman for tonight, help you bag the hottest chicks."

And that- Bernard thought that was the smartest thing Kirk had said all evening. Now he had a destination, a party invite, and a handy translator who could help him disguise his complete lack of knowledge of the drivel that kids today passed off as slang. It didn't matter that listening to Kirk talk made him want to tear his new hair out, he'd be leaving him for the company of a woman soon enough!

Besides, he thought as he looked over at the gaggle of unwashed college jocks who would be his companions for the evening, it would do these men some good to see how a real man conducts himself. Perhaps they might learn something from him- though if the grades Professor Smith had been giving out in his classes were any indication, the chances of that were slim.

🔀

Trevor had a separate Instagram page exclusively devoted to following the biggest party animals on campus- not because he cared, but because they were useful. As inane as these peoples' compulsive need to broadcast their behavior to the world was, it also meant that their accounts were a treasure trove of information on where the best parties were and who was at them. All Trevor had to do when Andy got swapped was fire up the app and scan the sea of photos/videos for a glimpse of his pretty face... or more frequently, his ass, which the people who stole his body often left that hanging out and drew cameras to it like nothing else.

"Thank god we live in a surveillance state," Trevor remarked dryly as he picked his way through the crowded living room of the random house party they'd tracked Professor Smith to.

"Speak for yourself," Andy replied, wincing when he looked back at the photo they'd found of his body posing with a drink in one hand and a girl hanging from the other. "It's not your picture floating around on the web."

Seeing pictures like this was always surreal for Andy because it was like getting a glimpse into an alternate reality, one where he'd gone down an different path and become a mindless party animal. The type of guy who pounded down beers, screamed obnoxiously loud, and spent every night with a different girl- visually, he fit the stereotype perfectly, but that wasn't who he wanted to be. Unfortunately, since other people often ran around with his face, he didn't really get a choice in what people thought of him.

While he still enjoyed going out with friends, he was past his party boy days, so a random rager like this on the outskirts of campus wasn't really his scene anymore. Still, at least he was more used to the loud music and crowded hallways than poor Trevor, who seemed to be having an awful time.

"I hate how crowded this place is!" Trevor rose up on his toes and tried to peek over the crowd, grunting in frustration as his eyes roamed a wall of college students' backs. "Why are there people so many people here? Don't they have lives?"

Andy snorted as he watched his petite boyfriend struggling, and it was so cute he wanted to pull him close and give him a kiss, but he resisted the urge to do so when he still looked like their professor. He accidentally made eye contact with a student, who gave him a bewildered look, and he awkwardly averted his eyes. Andy sighed- he was used to people eyeing him up at parties but usually it was because they were checking him out, not because they were confused why he was there.

He returned his attention to Trevor, who was still laser focused on their mission, and quickened his pace so he wouldn't be left behind (doing his best to ignore the way that his fat wobbled as he moved).

"You know Trev," he remarked, glancing around the lively soiree at the smiling faces and dancing bodies. "Speaking as a reformed party boy, I think most people would describe going out and having a good time on a Friday night as 'a life.'"

"Yes, well," the smaller boy huffed and gave a little hop to try to get a bit more height to search the room for glimpses of brown skin and muscles. "They should do it quieter."

Then, as if to spite Trevor's request, the clue they were looking for came in the form of someone being loud.

A group of voices chanting "Andy! Andy! Andy!" echoed over the din of the party, and the boyfriends exchanged a nervous glance before rushing off to find the source of the noise. They traced the shouts out into the (spacious) backyard of the house where a group of clearly drunk guys wrapped in bedsheet togas surrounded a large keg of beer, all of them losing their minds with glee as they pushed a familiar face forwards towards the metal barrel.

There was a brief moment of relief when the boyfriends saw that they had finally located Andy's body, but it was quickly replaced by anger and frustration as they examined the state that said body was in.

Professor Smith seemed to have made himself comfortable in the hunky body he'd stolen: the man was clad only in a bedsheet loosely wrapped around his form (in some approximation of a toga) which hung off of his shoulder and put the rippling muscles of his upper body on clear display. Lipstick stains showing where kisses had been were smudged across the exposed skin, crime scenes in the shiny layer of sweat that coated him, and a blue necktie was tied sideways around his head like he had jumped off the screen of some '80s movie.

If the way he was stumbling around tipsily was any indication, he had been drinking, and as he leaned forwards and grabbed on to the keg with a dopey grin on his face, it seemed he intended to drink some more.

"Oh fuck," Andy groaned, hiding his face behind his hands in shame. Not a fucking keg stand. "Trev, he's making me look like a douche!"

With too much confidence for someone who had only had that body for a few hours, Professor Smith leaped off the ground and jackknifed his legs up into the air, powerful muscles straining as he pulled himself into a handstand position atop the keg. (For a moment, Andy regretted all the time he spent working on core strength- but in his defense, he didn't know that it would be used for this!) Two guys slipped behind him, each one grabbing a leg, and they held him in position as someone else slipped the nozzle of the keg into his mouth.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" the partygoers chanted, and Andy and Trevor watched in horror as someone turned the faucet and the man in Andy's body began to suck down a copious amount of alcohol.

The boys holding his legs shook him back and forth encouragingly and the sheet toga (which had been tangled around his legs and barely hanging on) slipped down and revealed that Bernard was wearing nothing underneath except his borrowed birthday suit. The reveal of Andy's massive cock, hanging high above the crowd like it was sent from heaven itself, drew another round of cheers from the crowd, and every girl in attendance began whispering to each other. Trevor frowned, feeling a bit jealous for no real reason.

"What the fuck?" Andy's annoyingly white face flushed beet red as he watched his privates swinging around in the air- just because he was proud of his equipment didn't mean he wanted everyone to see it! Fortunately his face was shoved into a barrel and it was rather dark outside so any footage would be blurry, but still, the number of phones he saw pointed at his naked body made him cringe. "Why is my dick hanging out? He was definitely wearing clothes in the photo we saw earlier, what the fuck happened to them?"

"Guess he decided he didn't need them looking like that," Trevor mused, unimpressed by the professor's lack of imagination in how he would use Andy's body. The boy was so used to seeing other people parading around naked as his boyfriend that his perspective on the scene was almost clinical- though he did take a moment to admire the way that the perky butt Andy worked so hard for jutted out nicely when his legs were in the air. "You look good upside down."

"Oh no you don't," Andy slapped his hands over Trevor's eyes, glaring over at himself territorially. "No sexualizing my body until I'm back inside it."

One of the boys holding Professor Smith up gave his ass a smack, allowing everyone a front row seat to what Andy's juicy butt looked like when it jiggled, and he and his partner lowered the stud to the ground. The professor stumbled a bit, a small amount of beer dribbling out of his still full mouth before he managed to swallow the rest of his drink, then he shook his head and let out a huge belch that echoed out into the night.

His companions (for some reason) let out a huge cheer at that and swarmed around him, and emboldened by their attention, Professor Smith threw his head back and let out a roar. As the other boys chanted Andy's name he pounded on his chest like a gorilla, his fists making meaty thwacks as they shook his toned pecs, and it seemed for a moment that he was on the verge of turning into a literal party animal.

The real Andy was growing progressively madder and madder at the spectacle, but before he could do anything, he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. Barely managing to keep a lid on his rage, he turned and was faced with a young woman he vaguely recognized from class staring up at him with confusion.

"Professor Smith?" the girl asked, eyeing him with a mix of surprsie and suspicion. "Are you allowed to be at a student party?"

"No, I'm not," Andy hissed through gritted teeth, whipping his head around to glare over at the impostor wearing his face. "Let me go fix that."

And then he stormed off without another word, leaving the poor student standing there looking bewildered and most likely wondering if she should call someone. Trevor just shrugged at her and hurried away after his irate boyfriend.

🔀

Meanwhile, Bernard Smith was having the best night of his life.

As a teacher, he'd absolutely hated college boys like Kirk. They were loud, obnoxious, and only seemed to care about when the next party was. But now that he was one of them? They were his best bros!

Now that the barrier of age and profession was gone, he found that he had a lot in common with them: just like them, he loved drinking and kissing hot girls. And in light of the recent breakup that Bernard had manufactured, the horde of college boys had been very eager to reacquaint "Andy" with the party-goer lifestyle, guiding him around the festivities all evening and always making sure he had a drink in his hand and a girl on his arm.

And the girls... the girls were glorious.

After years of staring at pretty young college girls from the front of the classroom, the professor was finally allowed to touch them, and he had gone positively wild with the privilege. All evening long he had been gorging himself on forbidden fruit, making great use of Andy's incredible sex appeal to seduce every girl that crossed his path. He'd become a regular Casanova, barely able to get started kissing one girl with one girl before another caught his eye and whisked him away for a make out session of her own.

Getting to grab a barely-legal girl's breasts without her screaming for help was incredibly hot, but the thing Bernard found the most erotic was the way the girls worshipped the peaks and valleys of his rock hard body. Still getting a feel for what his new body was capable of, he'd yet to bed any of them, but if the power in his hips as he ground his huge cock into their thighs and the ease with which he hoisted girls up and pinned them to the wall was any indication, he was in for a borderline spiritual experience when he finally decided to go there.

He wasn't reliving his youth- this was better than his youth! In his youth he hadn't been a hot hung hunk with no cares except which of the girls surrounding him he'd be taking home at the end of the night... that is, if he settled for just one. Perhaps he'd even invite all of them!

The notion was impossibly greedy but well, tonight was a night for indulgence, wasn't it?

His new body was a wonder- he half-suspected he had enough in his loins to satisfy all of these girls and then some. The amount of alcohol he'd imbibed would have made his old cock into a limp noodle and made his liver cry out for help, but as the beer sloshed around in the guts hidden behind his new six pack, all he felt was a pleasant buzz and an easy looseness to his limbs. This body had even made drinking better!

His current healthy cock was still fully operational, something comically obvious at a glance thanks to the sizeable tent in the front of his sheet toga that bounced with every movement he made. The idea of walking around with such an obvious erection would have been mortifying just yesterday, but his new body had allowed him to shed his inhibitions as freely as he had shed his clothes and now he wanted everyone to see that he had a big fat boner. He was damn proud of the thing!

That was the greatest thing that he'd stolen from Andy: confidence. The knowledge that everyone wanted to see him, and that finally, he was someone worth looking at. (Although the penis was great too.)

He shivered as he felt a cool breeze waft across his balls- he'd long ago ditched his formal wear in favor of one of the simple togas that the other boys around him were wearing. At first he'd thought they'd all looked ridiculous, but the more he drank, the better the idea sounded. What was he all buttoned up for? Why had he bothered stealing the body of a young man if he was still going to behave like he was old? He'd discarded those stuffy old clothes in a corner somewhere and proudly joined the ranks of the toga clad college boys.

When in Rome, he thought to himself, not even caring that he'd just conflated the Greek and Roman empires (something he'd failed many a student for).

Besides allowing him to fit in with his new "bros," the bastardized toga also displayed his body perfectly and allowed plenty of places for girls to rub their hands over his bulging muscles- a convenience several were taking advantage of right now.

A blonde on his left and a brunette on his right... he was in heaven.

"You're so big," purred the brown haired girl as she rubbed at his belly- focusing mainly on his six pack, but every so often her hand "accidentally" brushed against the head of his cock. "I love big guys like you."

"Oh yeah? You like what you see?" he clenched his stomach, causing his abs to flex beneath her hand, and she cooed in delight. A glance down at her dark brown bosoms peeking out the top of her barely-there shirt made him pretty happy too.

"I love it," she grabbed her shoulder and tugged him down so she could whisper in his ear. "And I'd love to see more."

A shiver ran down Bernard's back all the way down to his cock, and a small wet spot appeared in the front of his sheet toga. He brushed off the girl who was on his other side (who pouted as she stomped away) and grabbed the other girl by her waist, yanking her close and crashing their lips together. His tongue thrust into her mouth and the two shared a long, deep kiss for a moment before he pulled back.

"Say, how old are you?" he asked, and she looked at him strangely.

"Twenty-four," she said. "Why, am I too old for you?"

Bernard let out a moan of lust and pounced on her, sending the two tumbling to the ground right there on the patio for everyone to see, and his gaggle of new buddies erupted into cheers. He paused in his make out session and looked up so he could shoot his boys a cocky smile, but froze when he saw a familiar face storming towards him.

"Get off of her you thief!" the real Andy bellowed, shoving his way through a group of guys to glower down at the body snatcher currently misusing his body, and the party goers around him erupted into chatter.

The version of "himself" on the floor had frozen in place, staring up the real Andy with an expression of shock on his face, and the girl beneath him (oblivious to the interruption) was still sucking on his neck. The sight of his body in such an X-rated position scandalized Andy (what exactly was this guy's plan, fuck a girl on the lawn in front of a crowd?) but as he glanced around at the attentive crowd, he knew that getting seen being manhandled by a professor would be worse, so he held himself back and clenched his fists by his side as he waited for the thief to respond.

A moment later, the thief snapped out of his stupor and an evil looking grin appeared split his face.

"What the fuck are you talking about old man?" Bernard responded, injecting venom into those last two words, and he rolled his hips and ground his crotch into the girl beneath him (who squeaked with delight). "I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to enjoy myself."

"Yo, aren't you a professor here?" Kirk piped up, glancing between the two with confusion. He grabbed the man he thought to be Professor Smith by the shoulder and gripped him tightly. "Andy, is this guy bothering you?"

Not fucking Kirk, Andy thought. The two had lived in the same dorm freshman year and crossed paths out a lot back in his party days, but Andy had begun avoiding the guy for being annoying as hell and partying too hard. But it looks like the "new" Andy had become fast friends with Kirk, and was picking up some of his bad habits. This guy is the worst.

"Step the fuck off dude," he groaned, shoving Kirk on the shoulder, and (caught off-guard) the boy stumbled back into his posse without much resistance. The group erupted into nondescript hollering, shaking fists angrily, and Trevor decided to step in while everyone else was distracted.

The sight of his boyfriend's body being used to make out with another girl filled him with hatred, but he channeled that into a cold, calculating rage chilled the air between him and body snatcher as Trevor leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Actually I think you'll want to hear what we have to say, Andy," Trevor hissed the name out through gritted teeth, and it made the hairs on the back of the thief's next stand up. "Somewhere private. There are some things I think you'll want to hear about that involve the 'project' you were working on."

There was a hint of steel in Trevor's voice that compelled Bernard to listen to the strange boy, and undercurrent of a threat that was just intriguing enough that the professor reluctantly pulled himself away from the embrace of the girl in his arms and rose up to his feet.

His abandoned partner scrambled to her feet and grabbed his hand, staring at him with disbelief. "You're leaving?"

Bernard turned to look at the beautiful young woman and grinned, yanking her closer and crashing their mouths together for a deep kiss that lasted about fifteen seconds too long- but he was staring into his old body's eyes the whole time, savoring the rage he saw on the face of the former Andy, who was powerless to stop him. He pulled away and smacked her on the ass for good measure.

"Don't worry sweet cheeks, I'll be right back," he winked. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

🔀

The three retreated into the house (Bernard shouting some weak excuse to his new friends that they were all too drunk to care about anyways) and made their way down a random hallway, pushing open doors to reveal packed tableaus until they found a bedroom that was only occupied by a single couple making out on the bed.

"Out, we need to deal with something," Trevor commanded them, and the pair were so confused by the sudden appearance of the mismatched trio that they obeyed without question, zipping up their pants and brushing past Professor Smith in Andy's body as he strutted confidently through the doorway.

Although he'd agreed to go off with them, Bernard wasn't worried at all about Andy and the other boy; actually he was feeling quite cocky. After all, he was the smart one here and he held all the cards... and he knew just how to remind these two kids who was the alpha in this situation.

Bernard casually let his "sheet toga" slip to the floor to stand butt naked, shamelessly flaunting the beautiful new body that was now his in front of its previous owner, and he flung himself onto the bed with the ease of a man in his early twenties. He leaned against the bedframe and crossed his arms behind his head, his powerful biceps displayed proudly, and made sure to spread his thick legs so that his opponents could have a clear view of the prize-worthy cock and balls he possessed. He had no doubt he made quite a sight, and just to rub salt in the wound he looked straight at the real Andy and made a big show of scanning his former body up and down. His eyes lingered pointedly on its bald head and sagging gut, and an ugly smile split his handsome face as he locked on to his watery old eyes.

"How can I help you Professor Smith and-" he glanced over at Andy's smaller brown-skinned companion and sneered. "And you must be my ex-boyfriend. Trent, was it?"

"Trevor," the boy muttered, boldly holding eye contact with the body snatcher rather than giving in to his intimidation tactics, but Bernard wasn't phased. His new body outclassed Trevor's in every aspect- if anything, he was just surprised that a hunk like Andy had chosen to settle down with a boy like that.

"You're rather scrawny, aren't you?" he remarked, looking down at his pecs as he gave them an exaggerated flex, then back up at Trevor with a pitying smile on his face. "No wonder I broke up with you when I have a body that looks like this."

Incensed by the attack on his boyfriend, Andy shoved himself between the two and glared down at the body snatcher lounging on the bed with all the rage he could muster. Getting a view of himself from the outside always gave him a shocking perspective on how other people saw him- his gorgeous body with its smooth caramel skin and carefully sculpted muscles (his workout routine was hitting right) sprawled out long and large was an impressive sight, but when he looked at his face and saw the sheer malice radiating from the soul hiding behind those eyes, it sent chills down his spine. He was sure that he'd never looked like that.

"You don't have shit actually," Andy shouted, mustering up his courage and jabbing a finger accusingly at Professor Smith, and the man wearing his face laughed at him. "You just stole my body!"

"Excellent deduction skills Mr. Douglass," Bernard sneered, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "What gave it away? Was it the back pains? The baldness? The skin color? Or maybe..." the professor reached down between his legs and took Andy's girthy member in his hands, shaking its length back and forth with a devious grin on his face. "Maybe it was that little limp thing between your legs that you're stuck with now."

From the way his old face grew pinched and red, Bernard knew he'd struck a nerve with that one. The memory of what his old cock was like was still fresh in his mind and he didn't envy Andy one bit- or the little boyfriend, for that matter.

"Regardless of what it was that sparked the epiphany your juvenile pea brain," he continued, hammering the nail in a bit further just to enjoy the look of shame on the formerly young man's face. "Maybe if you'd applied some of those skills to your classwork you'd be getting an A! You should be thanking me- stealing my body was the only way you were going to get a degree."

"Shut up," Andy snapped, desperately wishing that he still had his own body so he could do that thing where he puffed himself up and made himself look scary to get an edge in an argument. As it was, all the weight he had to throw around was fat. "I'm not gonna take shit from some old body snatcher- and stop touching my dick!"

Although the professor obviously wasn't turned on by the sight of his disgusting old body, he couldn't deny the sick sense of pleasure he got from toying with his new cock while maintaining eye contact with its real owner, and his manhood just grew more intimidating every second. The mind games were working- the way the body snatcher rolled it around in his hands so lecherously was disturbing to Andy and set him a bit off-balance.

Andy's dick, not caring at all that it was being used for evil, flopped around looking happy and heavy in the thief's hands and engorged itself with more blood.

Traitor, Andy though spitefully. What was the point of having a big dick if it wasn't on your side?

"From what I've heard, you don't seem to mind when another man touches your dick!" Bernard taunted, malice bubbling up from deep within him. He knew it was something of a playground insult, but he was far past the Rubicon at this point and might as well play dirty.

The professor glanced at Andy's boyfriend and shuddered at the thought of the big dick in his hands being used to pleasure the scrawny young man- or worse, the little fellow mounting Andy's sturdy frame and jamming his own prick into the annoyingly bouncy ass Bernard currently possessed. Not while I'm in charge, he thought to himself.

"I'm a liberal, of course, I don't have anything against gay people, but I must say it seems like such a shame that you were wasting this incredible body on men. A masculine form like this deserves to know the love of a good woman! Preferably a new one every night," Bernard smirked and slid his hands down to cup his balls, gently rolling the heavy orbs around in his fingers. "Hell, maybe even two or three! I'll bet I'm plenty virile now, I can handle it."

"First of all, I'm not gay, I'm bi, I've been with girls before," Andy protested, then he shook his head in disbelief. "Second of all, do you even hear yourself? You just want to steal my body so you can use it to be a manwhore? That's so fucked up!"

"Youth is wasted on the young," Bernard tsked the boy sadly. "Trust me, after a few days in that body you'll come to regret not indulging in life's pleasures while you could."

"Oh I can't wait to fuck a woman with this thing- I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop fucking women with this thing! I tell you kids, it's a dream come true," Bernard grinned from ear to ear, not a trace of shame on his face, and rolled his broad shoulders to feel his muscles stretch. "I could take this pretty face and this big dick out into that party right now and any girl would be on her knees for me in an instant. The young women of the world should be thanking me for liberating this body."

Andy fought the urge to gag (how was this old guy so gross?) and crossed his arms in an attempt to look stern. "Yeah, well, I don't think those girls out there would be happy to find out that the guy they're grinding on is actually old enough to be their grandfather."

"Grandfather?" Bernard gasped. "I'm fifty three, I'm not that old you dunderhead!" Then a devious smile crossed his handsome face and he ran a finger over his jawline, appreciating the smooth, tight skin. "Besides, I believe you're the old one actually. I'm currently what, twenty six years old?"

"I'm twenty-three," Andy corrected him with a harumph. "Jackass."

"Just twenty-three?" Bernard was genuinely surprised by that, and he looked down at Andy's well-developed muscles with a new appreciation. At twenty three years old Bernard had been out of breath when he climbed the stairs, yet in the same amount of years Andy had sculpted himself into a Greek statue. "What are they putting in the food these days? You've got an incredible body for your age, I was right to steal it."

"See!" Andy exclaimed triumphantly. "How do you think you can steal my life when you don't even know how old I am? Do you even know where I live? What my major is? What my family is like?" Andy shook his head. "You'll never be able to pull this off."

"Pish posh," the professor waved his hands back and forth and turned his nose up, a distinctly old school gesture that looked out of place on Andy's form. "I know you've got a handsome face and a nice body, that's all that matters. As long as I've got all this-" he placed his hands on Andy's heavy pecs and heaved the meat up and down for emphasis. "Everything will work itself out."

"Oh yeah? Well all that didn't just happen overnight," Andy snapped, and he put his hands to the sagging manboobs his current body had and heaved them in a mocking parody of what Bernard had just done with his body. "Something tells me you aren't exactly familiar with the gym, do you even know what it takes to build up a body like that? I give it two months before you've wrecked my body!"

"Please, how hard can it be to pick heavy things up and put them down again? I have a PHD, I think I can figure it out," Bernard rolled his eyes, then teased his fingers up and down the ridges of his abs tauntingly. "Besides, you've already given me the base, all I have to do is maintain it. Rest assured that your six pack is safe with me..." he rolled his body to the side slightly so his butt was exposed, and he glared down at it. "Although I'll be happy to let this ridiculous rump of yours go."

"My 'rump?' Ridiculous?" Andy gasped, both hands flying to his mouth with shock. He didn't care how shallow it sounded but his bubble butt was one of his prized possessions- big, shapely, and with the perfect combination of firmness and bounce -so hearing the older man disrespect it like that was borderline blasphemy. "My ass is legendary on campus. Do you have any idea how many squats I had to hit to get a dump truck like that?"

A dump truck? Bernard shook his head. Kids today and their slang.

"No, I don't know how much time you wasted doing squats, and I don't intend to find out either," Bernard frowned at the globes of flesh jutting out of his lower half like they had done something to offend to him. "Honestly, you kids today and your obsession with having big butts should be studied. There's nothing manly about looking like the seams of your pants are going to burst!" Then he reached back and grabbed at one of his cheeks, squeezing it violently in his hands and giving the muscle a rough shake. "And why does it move like this? I'm sick of it bouncing around all the time! No, I think you'll look much better without this thing."

"Okay, that is IT," Andy bellowed, bending forwards and slamming his fists down on the mattress dramatically- to angry to care about how he tweaked his back in the process. "You can steal my face, take my life, make me look like an idiot- but when you come for my ass, it's personal." He pointed at the body snatcher and glared with every ounce of authority he had in him. "You need to get out of my body now, or else."

"Or else what?" Professor Smith sneered. He pushed himself off the bed and drew himself up to Andy's impressive 6'2'' (his new body had about six inches on his old body- and also was four inches taller), spreading his shoulders and puffing his chest out so he looked like a sturdy mountain of muscles. He leered down at Andy with a wolfish grin. "And what are you going to do about it?"

"I'll-" Andy paused, came up short for an answer, then turned to his boyfriend. "Trev, tell him what we're gonna do."

"Are you two done bickering?" Trevor asked, sounding mildly amused. He stepped up to stand side by side with his boyfriend, subtly twining their hands together to show support, and looked up into the professor's eyes. "Because if you are, I'd like to get to the part where you two switch back to your real bodies."

Professor Smith threw his head back and laughed. "Switch back? Why on Earth would I go back to being an old man when I could be this?" He flexed dramatically like a body builder, once again flaunting his strapping young body, and Trevor rolled his eyes.

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you," the twink said flatly, unimpressed by the older man's posturing despite how big Andy's body made him look. "You've pulled off a good trick but it won't last forever, there's a way to reverse any spell."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Professor Smith said, looking all too smug. "I translated that spell myself from an archaic hieroglyphic script- I'm the only one on the planet who knows how it works and I'm not keen to give up that secret any time soon."

"Interesting theory," Trevor nodded, glancing down and picking at his fingernails for a moment before looking back up with a knowing glint in his eye. "Well here's my take- you left your shit lying out back at your house and I'm pretty sure what you translated was just a variation of an older Sumerian ritual that I am familiar with. And that's how I know," he paused for dramatic effect, and Andy grinned in anticipation. "That you didn't translate the whole thing."

He slipped his backpack off of his shoulder and began rifling through it, but Professor Smith was more concerned with other matters.

"Wait, my house?" he interrupted, a bit taken aback by that detail. "How did you get into my house?"

"Threw a rock through your window," Andy said with a shit eating grin. "Also I carved a dick into the side of your car."

"You WHAT?" Bernard bellowed, so enraged that he reached forwards and shoved Andy back- but though the boy stumbled, he didn't stop smiling. "I'm going to call the cops!"

"And tell them what?" Andy chuckled, glad that he finally had the upper hand over the body snatcher. "All of your neighbors saw 'you' do it- right before you mooned them, by the way." He turned tail and patted at his nonexistent behind. "Bet they would have preferred to see my ass instead of yours."

"Anyways," Trevor interjected before Professor Smith could say anything else, and he held up a long red wax candle he'd produced from his bag. "If you had done your due diligence with your translations of this spell you'd be aware that it's anchored to the lifespan of this candle here, which means that if I just-" Trevor turned the candle sideways and pushed on both ends, snapping it in half effortlessly. "-then you'll both revert back to normal."

A pulse of energy ripped through the room as the spell unwove itself and the change back was instantaneous- the professor's borrowed body practically exploded with fat, the shocked thief letting out a cry as his massive arms sagged and his tight six pack was swallowed up by a bulbous gut. The jock butt which he had been so rude to deflated like a beach ball and the second it was gone Bernard suddenly realized what a fool he'd been to not appreciate the damn thing. He was filled with despair as he felt the delicious power he'd borrowed abandon him as his stolen muscles melted away leaving him back in the pale and unimpressive body he'd been neglecting for years.

To make things even worse, the absurd amount of alcohol he'd consumed as a massive twenty three year old had stayed with him and his fifty three year old stomach was already revolting.

Worst of all he was still butt naked, and no longer had anything to be proud of.

Trevor averted his eyes from this process- he had no interest in looking at Professor Smith's body now that his boyfriend wasn't stuck inside of it. Instead he looked at Andy as his body snapped back to its true form and returned to him the physique that he'd worked so hard on, which was a much more pleasant sight.

The boy was grinning from ear to ear as his facial features morphed, returning him to his handsome visage, and the wrinkles all across his body faded away as his skin returned to its healthy light brown shade. Hair began to sprout from the top of his head, and Andy breathed out a sigh of relief as he ran his fingers through the wooly strands.

Okay good, he thought to himself. I could not pull off bald.

The transformation to his body was equally dramatic, his rotund form retreating as his frame reclaimed its rightful height and muscle. Andy was glowing with excitement to be a twenty three year old hunk again, Trevor couldn't help but feel a tingle of arousal as he watched his boyfriend shimmy out of the oversized clothes he'd been using to cover Professor Smith's old body to expose his sexy real form instead.

"Oh thank fuck, I'm back to me again!" Andy cheered, hands roaming his body as he took stock of the changes. He needed to make sure that everything was returned to him just the way he'd left it. Pecs, abs, biceps, his beautiful ass- a sudden tug of gravity between his legs confirmed that his dick had reclaimed its former glory as well. A huge smile cracked his face as he stared down, twisting himself back and forth to admire his lovingly sculpted body. "Oh, I fucking missed this!"

"But- that's supposed to be mine!" Professor Smith whined, his own hands pressed in front of his privates to preserve some measure of dignity as he watched Andy caressing the body that had been his less than a minute ago. Already he missed the intoxicating feeling of strength that came with those muscles, and (as he shifted awkwardly on the balls of his feet) the confidence that came with having a big cock.

Trevor rolled his eyes and pulled some spare clothes from his backpack to toss to his boyfriend, who caught them effortlessly and began to dress himself.

"Don't be stupid, you know it's not," the smaller boy snapped at Professor Smith, snatching up the oversized clothes Andy had discarded and waving them at the older man like they were a weapon. "And don't even think about trying to mess with occult dealings again or else I'll use some of the tricks I've learned and turn you into an actual pig- since you seem so intent on acting like one."

The professor, feeling much less bold now that he was a middle aged man again, widened his eyes in fear. "You can do that?"

Andy, now dressed in some basketball shorts and a snug t-shirt, slung an arm across Trevor's shoulder and smiled down at his boyfriend affectionately. "Trev can do anything."

"Thank you Andy..." Trevor muttered, his cheeks flushing dark brown for a moment, before he cleared his throat and returned his attention to the would-be body snatcher in front of them. He jabbed a finger at Bernard, getting a small thrill at the way the bigger man flinched. "So here's what happens now: you will delete any records you have of this ritual and pretend like this never happened. Andy will not be going back to your class, but he will be getting an A for the semester. Do we have an understanding?"

"And if I refuse?" Professor Smith ventured, his bluster betrayed by the way his voice shook. Trevor and Andy exchanged a look.

"Then we release the videos we made while Andy was in your body of you doing some very inappropriate and possibly illegal things and you never work again," Trevor said flatly, and Andy gave a devious chuckle.

"Oh and it was some weird shit," the young man taunted. He crossed his arms menacingly- being switched out of his body always reminded him to appreciate the benefits that came with the presence of his own hulking form. "Only seemed fair since you were making an asshole out of yourself with my body that I did it with yours."

Trevor continued. "But if you say yes right now, we'll be nice and give you the clothes Andy walked out in so you don't get fired for being naked at a student's party. Doesn't that sound fair?"

Professor Smith looked down at his naked body let out a small noise from the back of his throat when he finally processed just how bad the situation was for him. Stumbling out without clothes on wasn't an option- if he were still in Andy's body it wouldn't be a problem (hell, people would probably thank him for the free show) but as an over-the-hill professor surrounded by a bunch of students they'd slap him in handcuffs before he could get a word out. He'd be lucky if all he lost was his job.

His eyes darted between the two boys like a rat cornered by two cats, and his eyes landed mournfully on the swell of Andy's pectoral muscles as they pressed through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"So I can't have just one night in his body?" Bernard pleaded, one last desperate time. "Just one, I promise! Or even just an hour! Please, I didn't get to fuck anybody! Hell, I can pay you!"

"Oh hey that's an idea," Andy turned to his boyfriend and grinned mischievously. "Should we make him give us money too?"

Trevor shook his head. "Just the compliance will be fine. And you accept the terms of our deal, right?"

"Alright, you two win!" Professor Smith threw his hands in the air, exposing his shriveled cock, and Andy and Trevor averted their eyes. "No more magic just... can I please have some clothes?"

🔀

The two boys, eager to get things over with, threw the clothes in Bernard's face (along with a promise from Trevor that he would be in touch and Bernard better hold up his end of the deal) and then made their exit, literally slamming the door on the whole ordeal behind them. The dip leaned against the wall of the hallway and caught their breath, staring out at the throngs of bodies and multicolored lights of the still-raging party, and then the two of them burst out laughing.

Andy's entire body was shaking and he clutched at his (once again tight) belly, nearly doubled over with laughter, and then he sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm himself down a bit. The small shoulder bounces that Trevor always did when he was laughing were starting to fade, and Andy smiled.

"God that guy was a douche," he said, jamming his thumb back towards the room, and Trevor nodded in agreement.

"Tell me about it," he snorted, then he glanced sidelong at Andy. "Was I that bad when I was in your body?"

"Nah," Andy sniffed dismissively, then he took advantage of his reclaimed height and leaned over to peer down at Trevor with a lopsided grin. "When you did it, it was hot."

The expression on Andy's face was so damn goofy that Trevor almost wanted to laugh and flick him in the forehead, but instead the sight just melted his heart. There was a carefree ease to Andy that no one else could match- that was his body and his alone, and the fact that he wanted to use it to be with Trevor (of all people) still felt like a miracle.

"It's good to have you back," the lovestruck boy whispered, not sure if he would even be audible above the din of the party, but from the way Andy's face softened he must have heard it.

"All thanks to you, Trev," Andy murmured back, rubbing at the back of his neck somewhat nervously. He was finding it hard to look into Trevor's chocolate eyes without feeling like a fool so instead he trained his eyes on the floor, grateful that he once again had a complexion that would hide his blush somewhat. "You were incredible in there, I'm so- I'm so lucky to have you. I would have been screwed if you weren't here so, thanks dude."

"Hey, you know I'd do anything for you," Trevor tucked a strand of his floppy hair behind his ear and placed his hand on Andy's shoulder, relishing the familiar feeling of his boyfriend's sturdy form under his fingers once again. "I'm just glad that you're you again. Nobody else can wear that body like you can."

Andy reached his hand up and grabbed onto Trevor's, squeezing it tight with all the love in his body, and the two boys took a moment to bask in the wave of relief that came with successfully surviving another snatch. Trevor studied Andy's face, that beautiful face that everyone wanted for themselves, and he almost leaned in for a kiss- but then he glanced sidelong at the throngs of people watching them and decided against it.

"Anyways, let's get out of here," Trevor sniffed at the air, his nose wrinkling at the smell of sweat, sugar, and weed that wafted through the cramped space. "This party sucks."

"Oh this party's ass," Andy agreed, glancing over at the crowd with a mysterious glint in his eye. "But we gotta do one thing before we go."

Eager to show off a bit now that he was young and strong again, Andy bent at his supple knees and swept Trevor's legs out from under him, catching the unsuspecting boy in midair and effortlessly hoisting him up into a bridal carry. His boyfriend was an easy, comfortable weight in his arms, and Andy grinned- this was why he went to the gym. Those muscles weren't just for show!

"Andy!" Trevor squeaked out, grabbing on to Andy's thick neck for stability. He wasn't worried that Andy was going to drop him, but he was worried about what people would think if they saw them like this. "Put me down, asshole!"

"No can do cinnamon stick," Andy teased, pulling Trevor close for a second so he could plant a kiss on his forehead. "Everybody at this party has spent all night watching 'me' run around trying to bang chicks- I think we'd better remind them all that I'm taken. And now that I've got these big old arms of mine back," he hefted up Trevor up and down a few times, like he was pumping iron at the gym, and the twink's stomach swooped. "I think I'm gonna use them to carry you past all of these people back to our apartment so we can watch that damn movie. Would you be down for that?"

Now, Trevor wasn't really one to show off- in fact, he tended to be on the shy side -but swaddled in the arms of his hunky boyfriend (reclining on top of giant biceps like they were pillows, because his life was a fairy tale) he couldn't find it in himself to feel any shame about nodding yes.

And besides, with the way their lives went, the two of them should try to enjoy Andy's body while they still had it.

[skyahri]

Remember P2 |SatoSugu X Reader| HC

Part One

Summary: It's hard bouncing back twelve years.

Warnings: none? Pretty fluffy.

- - - - -

You pat around the bed, but can't seem to find what you're looking for. You awkwardly push yourself up onto your hands, your waist awkwardly trapped in Satoru's tight hold.

You look around, still weary about, well, everything that's gone on. The jet lag-like dysphoria combined with the surrealism of the situation is muddling your mind.

You're still in Geto's room, that much is obvious based on his dark sheets and clean desk, but there's no Geto.

"Suguru?"

You can't feel his residuals anywhere. You try to settle your worries by reminding yourself that he often suppressed his cursed energy, that the ball hadn't started rolling yet, but the pit in your stomach was persistent.

Before you can panic any more, he's sliding his door open and closed behind him. You let out a breath and forced your way out of Satoru's grip. You hear him whine, but don't pay much mind to him.

You sit on the edge of the bed and rub your hand over your face. It's easier to calm down now than it was last night, the initial shock having worn off and the lack of exhaustion make things much easier to process.

"You can't just leave, Suguru."

"I was just," he paused, "Nevermind. I'm sorry."

He takes a seat next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder.

It's silent, but not uncomfortable. You can feel him trying to pick you apart with his eyes, wanting information but not wanting to ask. You chose to let him wonder and just basque in his presence. It's warm, almost like a hug.

You eventually convince yourself to get up from his bed and start your day. Gojo complains, something about you getting up means he has to as well. You can no longer be used as an excuse to lounge around all day.

It's difficult to get back into the groove of your old life. You're quickly realizing how much a person can change when given enough time.

Your hair is longer than you'd recently kept it and your ears hadn't been pierced yet. Seeing a face you didn't recognize as your own in the mirror was a trip. Second puberty is a very real thing, the lack of adult maturity in your features being proof of it.

You haven't used a single product in your bathroom in over a decade. Satoru had long replaced your cheap body care products with an expensive perfume and matching lotions. There was no trinket dish holding your prized jewelry, solely because you just hadn't been gifted any of it yet. Your closet was severely dated, only containing uniforms and outfits you had tossed years ago.

None of this stuff mattered in the grand scheme of things. Everything would eventually fall into place, and you'd have all of these things back, but that didn't stop it from hurting. They're just objects, but most of them held much more significant meaning. Milestones, holidays, memories with people you care for. It's sad not to have the visual reminder.

You make your way through the halls of Jujutsu High, acknowledging the faces of all your old classmates. Once you get past the eerie presence of a select few you haven't seen since their untimely deaths, it's refreshing. As of right now, there's no war or depression. Nothing stopping you from actively enjoying the present time with your friends.

That is, except for the expiration date practically stamped on their foreheads.

You head through a myriad of hallways and tunnels that eventually lead to an elevator. You know you shouldn't be down here, Yaga would surely have your head, but you don't really see any other options.

You're surprised when you easily pass through the barrier. He was most likely expecting your company. Word travels fast, especially when it involves everyone assuming their battle position at three in the morning.

His base is creepy, to say the least. The vibe is ominous, almost like you're entering certain death. You're certain that this is a stupid idea, but your feet keep moving nonetheless, and soon your eye to eye with the one person who can protect the future.

"Tengen."

"Oh? I hope this doesn't have anything to do with my upcoming assimilation, does it?"

"You don't even know the half of it."

- - - - -

After your impromptu meeting with Tengen, you decided not to bother with the rest of your classes. Instead, you made a trip off campus for some essentials.

The errand is short, just a stop at the nearest bookstore for some new journals and the convenience store for a more... indulgent treat. It isn't long before you're back in the confines of your bedroom.

There's writing supplies strewn across your desk, your feet awkwardly forced onto the narrow cushion of your seat as you uncomfortably hunched over. The ashtray to your left is packed full of butts, the pack halfway gone as you've chain smoked through the whole ordeal.

You always hated the task of actually writing out the events of your dreams. It's tedious and requires an ungodly amount of focus to capture every detail. It's been damn near four hours, and you're only three years into the endeavor. Granted, all of the more relevant things happen in that time, making it drag out a bit more in word form, but that's besides the point.

You're so entranced in the activity, you don't even notice Geto slide open your door. He walks up behind you, resting both hands on your shoulders and startling you out of your daze. You swiftly close the notebook and relax into his touch, reveling in the way he digs his thumbs into your sore shoulders.

"Never thought I'd catch you smoking after all the grief you give us."

"I needed to unwind," you pause, glancing at the half empty pack, "I suppose I did get a bit carried away, though."

It's quiet while he continues his ministrations. You take one last drag of your cigarette before snuffing it out in the tray. You relax, allowing your body to melt into a less chaotic position in your chair.

You're having a hard time recalling the specific relationship dynamics you once held with the people around you in high school.

As an adult, you happily indulged in Satoru's advances. You found comfort in his bed at night and in the gestures of affection he'd grant you, but something was always missing.

Nothing was ever formal or very serious, something you entirely blame Geto's defection for. He had left a hole in everyone's hearts, and no matter how much you tried to move past it, there was always that lingering darkness. Having Satoru and not Suguru was like having the moon and not the sun, and it stunted both of you for years to come.

Your future relationships and mature understandings of life were blurring your memories of the current ones. Had you and Gojo romanticized the past version of Geto? Was the way you're feeling right now just a symptom of that? Or was there always something actually there?

"What are you thinking about?"

You shrug. You don't really feel like lying right now, so it's better to just not say anything.

"I came in here to ask if you'd like to go to Splendid Sushi with us? Satoru's treat of course."

You tilt your head back to peer up at him. You touch his hand and strain your arm so you can drag your fingers up his arm, finally finding a place to rest on his bicep.

He looks new. There are no bags under his eyes and he still has that sparkle of hope. It finally sinks in that this is your Suguru. The guy who argues about morals with Satoru and dreams about protecting the weak. It's a warm feeling, one that gives you the strength to venture forward.

"I have to keep working, Sugu. You guys go on without me."

"How about you come with us, and I'll keep you company afterwards."

You hum, feigning contemplation for a moment before dramatically sighing and agreeing to his proposal.

You forgot how good it felt to be worry free. To sit in a restaurant with your three favorite people, talking about nonsense and just enjoying the night. Eating a sickening amount of sushi and being loud enough to bother other patrons.

But your thoughts started to drift to the one thing you'd been trying to avoid; your kids.

When Megumi and Tsumiki were younger, family dinners weren't an issue. You could easily wrangle everyone in and play peacekeeper long enough to have a nice meal. Then Tsumiki got sick and it felt wrong to enjoy the weekly gatherings.

In all honesty, neither had ever really needed you, but you'd like to think they enjoyed having you and Satoru as some kind of pseudo-parents. Megumi has always been independent and Tsumiki has always been a fighter, but they're little right now, about three and four years old, probably fending for themselves while Toji and his girlfriend are off doing God knows what.

You've completely tuned out the others' conversation about, what even was it? Animals they could take in a fight? They're talking amongst themselves while you begin to worry about their place in your future.

Would Satoru still seek them out? With Geto around, will he feel the need to raise two kids? And what about the two girls Geto saves from that village? Should you intervene in the town beforehand, or set things up so he still takes them? Is there even a way to do so without igniting that anti-monkey flame?

You rub your hand down your face as the onset of headache approaches. Only a half-hour into dinner and you've already managed to ruin it for yourself.

You quietly excuse yourself from the table and exit the building. You hear them whisper amongst themselves before Shoko jogs to catch up with you outside. She leans against the side wall with you, surprised when you hand her one of two lit cigarettes in your mouth.

"You good?"

You don't answer at first. What are you supposed to tell her? That you miss the teenagers you raised after having a hand in killing their dad?

"Just stressed."

"Feel like sharing?"

"Wish I could. You have no idea."

Shoko has always been your favorite confidant. She's well-rounded and more predictable than Gojo, even now. You sigh, tilting your head back and forth in thought with a groan.

"I'm having trouble adjusting."

"Don't you always?"

"Not like this. I've never seen so far forward before. I feel like I'm in a haze."

"It'll fade. It always does, just gotta give it time, y'know?"

You jab the filter against the bricks and toss it in the trash, Shoko following suit. Despite it being a very dry conversation, you do feel a bit better. Maybe just forcing yourself into a more familiar place within the group was helping.

You make your way back to the table, sitting beside Satoru this time and allowing him to pull you into his side with an arm around your shoulder. He leans his head down so he can whisper in your ear.

"You're too pretty to be worrying so much. Try and relax, alright?"

The next second he's laughing, joking with Suguru about how easy it is to piss off Nanami and arguing with Shoko about who gets to open the prize capsule.

You smile, thankful for the wonderful distraction that is your friends. You pull the bit out of Shoko's hand and call dibs. They pout, but don't fight you. You pop it open and pull out a Badtz-Maru keychain. You can't help but be reminded of Megumi, its black spikey top and sour expression are damn near uncanny.

Satoru uses the arm around your shoulder to pluck the prize out of your hand.

"Awe, I was hoping for Hello Kitty."

You take it back and shove it in your pocket.

"Good thing it's not yours then, huh?"

[penelope-potter]

Falling Forever ~

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Owl Hybrid! Reader

Summary: After the rebuild of the hotel, the group and you decided to build an entertaining room for entertainment of future sinners. Alastor and you got picked out by Charlie to be the main entertainer so when the first show came up, you had to improvise...

Warnings: No one just fluff

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Exited you hopped through the Lobby, running around to pick the right color for the tablecloths and to practice your act once more to perfect it. The rebuild of the hotel brought not only new guests like Lucifer and Cherry, it also brought more ideas to lure new sinners inside. One idea you and Alastor came up with was a room for entertainment. Alastor talked about how often he visited a theater in his lifetime and how much he enjoyed it being there and hearing the performers sing. You had a similar idea, because you also loved theater acts and cinema. So Charlie was fast to combine you two ideas and to mold it into one: an entertainment room with a huge stage. Lucifer helped with the technical stuff- his magic was quite helpful- and Alastor and you were about to decorate the room. Since you two were getting along well, it didn't caused this much trouble to pick something. You knew that he liked his old fashion more than anything modern, and you don't really minded. The vintage atmosphere seemed to connect you to him in some way. You started to pull threads everywhere to combine it with him. The old microphone which was standing on the stage, seemed to connect with the radio demon itself and his little songs he always played on his cane or hummed along with it. The red curtains which framed the demon as he was standing on the stage fixing some of the lights - left him like an old photograph from an old time you never got to experiment. Well not really- he always made sure to teach you his dances and to show you Jazz music- his favorites. He took you right into his time, showed you every detail and now you’re left with a bunch of objects from this time and although you would have never made such a big deal of it- you suddenly started to like everything about it. Because of him. Because even though everyone knew it secretly, you never told anyone about your love for the radio demon. He was mysterious and dark, and everyone warned you about him when you first met, but how could he be the same demon who killed several people and also be the men who talks with you so sweetly? How can he hate touch so much when it's only your space he invades the most? How can he be so heartless when he laughed so full out of heart when you tell him funny stories from your life. How can it be so easy to talk with him till late night and how can you feel so safe around him when he's so so brutal and bad? How can it be hard to love his being when it feels so easy? Husk told you to keep an eye on him, he doesn't wanted you to be manipulated by him. Angel told you that he was just playing with you eventually and you should stop being so close with him. You tried your best to keep the distance but you just couldn't shake the feeling off. Your feelings for him would never change, and this was a fact. No matter what anyone would say. But you were also afraid. Afraid of him really just toying with you. So you tried to ignore the feeling. Every time when you were near with him. Every time he brushes your hand, your elbow, your shoulder. Every feeling passes doesn't it?

"(Y/N)!" Ripped away from your thoughts you turned around only to see Charlie coming over to you. "Oh my gosh , oh my gosh you don't know what is going to happen tonight!" She was so excited that she raised both her fists in front of her chest. "What is it?" You smiled, trying to don’t make it obvious you started thinking about him again. "I managed to invite some actual sinners tonight! You and Alastor will be acting and singing - oh it will be so perfect!" Your smile dropped in an instant. You and Alastor? No. No no no no this was not like it was planned. The original plan was you dancing on stage, while Alastor would be playing the piano, not you two acting and singing! "What- what do you mean with sing? Charlie I can't sing and I don't think Alastor would..." "Oh don't worry he already agreed with it!" She smiled so wide it must hurt her. You dropped your shoulders as her smile changed into a worried expression. "Oh (Y/N), You can do this! I believe in you really. Also, you are not alone, you have Alastor! I just thought that you two could maybe spice the thing up a bit? Just adding something special to it?" Shelooked at you and as you didn't answered she turned away slightly. "But if you don't want to-" "No it's alright." You smiled. "I already have an idea to bring more life into the act." Her mood instantly improved as a few seconds later Alastor came in. "I see that you told (Y/N) our new plan Charlie." He said and you heart began to flutter in your chest. "Yes! We can do this I'm sure." You said smiling. His smile grew even wider.No nothing would be good, absolutely not... "Oh of course sweetheart I have no worry for that." You felt your face heating up by the sound of his nickname for you. He only called you this way since a little while and even though you liked it, it didn't helped you with ‘pushing your feelings away’ plan at all. And it was kind of unusual to hear it since he called everyone dear. "Shit guys, we're so fucked!" All head turned towards the door where Angel were standing. "What has happened?" You asked. "Uhh the sinners are already here because shit knows why. Your Dad tried to change their mind coming back later but they start to lose interest already..." "Oh no!"

Charlie looked back to you. "What are we doing now? You two barely had time to talk about your act and-" "It's alright, we are ready for this." You said all of the sudden. All eyes now on you, you could see how Alastor titled his head curious to the side. "But you are not prepared!" "We were already not prepared for this sudden change, so we might just come up with something out of our minds dear." Alastor quickly said, as she just looked at you for several seconds before nodding and heading out of the door with Angel, only for him to throw a warning glance to you both. Well more to you. He’s not angry with you, just protective. But it made your stomach turning around.

"Now tell me dearest, what do you think the two of us should be acting tonight?" The demon gazed down at you, suddenly more close than before. So close your shoulder touching his. "Well we just improvise. Because flying and dancing is all that I practiced, I guess we will just work with that. It’s one of the dances you taught me.” You smiled. “Are you afraid of heights?" He raised an eyebrow. "No. What are-" Loud voices ringing through the hallway making you turn to him, suddenly so close that even he flinched back slightly. "Do you trust me?" His smile grew wide. "Of course! I'm sure you will-" "No. I mean do you really trust me?" He remained silent before his eyes grew curious and somewhat warm. His smile changed into a warm mouth closed smile. "I trust you." The sinners were already about to enter the room as you nodded and waved for him to follow you. "Just do as it was originally planned." You said, standing on the stage and waited for the sinners to enter the room completely. You inhaled and exhaled as you saw Lucifer's apologizing look as Alastor sat down on the bench before the piano, his fingers floating above the keys. You nodded at him and he started playing. You started to sing along with the song you heard a million times by now- so it was easy to remember the lines. You just hoped that your singing skills don’t fear everyone out of the room while you tried desperately to not look in the crowd who's already about to bragging and muttering. How long, how long? The crowd stopped for a second and a few eyes looked back at you, while you're about to step to the piano to sit on it. You had to come up with something don’t you? Are you good at holding on? I know the mind is quick to throw away the moment...

You looked at Alastor who's gaze was locked with you the whole time. You felt your heart racing. How often did you watched old movies from his time only to understand his mannerism better. The way he was such a respecting gentleman you could never find in the human world and even not in this time period. You saw him in every line the actors spoke or in every oldy you listened. He was everywhere, and sometimes it felt like you were there by yourself. Singing with him, dancing... where this takes us, maybe I don't wanna know yet... 'cause for now you're all I want. his ears twitched for a second, while he continued to play, as you hopped from the piano and walked to him placed yourself awfully close to him on the very small bench. You're shoulders touched and you could feel the heat rising from him. they say you got it, then it's gone I don't believe that every flame has to get colder... You stood up and hesitated for a second before you grabbed his chin with your hand turning it in your way anyways. What a bold decision for a shy girl like you- he must have thought. He suddenly stopped playing but the keys kept playing on their own. I hope the feelings that you give me carry over till tomorrow and beyond? For a moment it could be seen as a question for him, not a line from a song you heard so often and never really thought about the meaning behind it. Now it made everything clear for you. A confession. You grabbed his hand and pulled him with you as you two ran to an invisible spot where you created stairs which were going far up. How long, how long? Can it just keep getting better? Can we keep falling forever? You kept running higher and higher, Alastor behind you followed you quickly, but had to cling on the railing a few times, his other hand in yours, your heart pounding. You hoped he's not going to hate you after that... How long, how long Can we stay like this forever? Can we keep falling forever? Finally stopping on the small platform you created, you turned to him, starting a dance he once showed you. Luckily he adapted your movements quickly and swung you around. You could wake up all alone

So tonight I'll give you something to remember and eternity's impossible to measure But it feels right Where we are He joined you in your sudden change of dance, spun you around and pulled you back even closer than before. Right before his face you came to stop, staring into his crimson eyes which were now filled with something like curiosity and desire. You almost forgot the line and slapped yourself mentally. Your hands were shaking and maybe you only imagined it but you could have sworn he was shaking too- slightly. His look of absolute adrenalin would have been fitting at least. I'm falling deep Deep in your arms baby baby I'm yours to keep Keep me close Till tomorrow and beyond? You took his hands and started to placed your weight towards the edge of the platform for you to fall. Suddenly his eyes grew wide as he tried to pull you back but you're just pulling him harder with you until he tripped and fell. Fell with you. How long, how long You held his hands outstretched before you quickly pulled him closer to you, holding his torso. Your bodies pressed against each other as you could feel him took in every breath and his face incredible close to yours. You could hear the crowd gasping as you suddenly remembered to actually save you both so you spread your wings open and saved you two from hitting the ground. Can it just keep getting better? He's looking at you surprisingly, his eyes wide awake for once and his smile a bit shaky but after some time impossible wider. He titled his head back to take a look on the new view of his before looking back at you. His ears were ruffled up of the wind, just like his hair which looked now so much more messy. You liked it. You liked it to hold him, to be the upper hand for once and he seemed to don’t really mind it. Because it’s you he allowed to be the dominating one, just you. He grabbed your shoulder with his right hand and with the other the spot between your wings but not in a desperate way to hold on- no. Like you two would be lying in bed and he's holding you in a tight embrace. He genuinely looked so happy it made your heart skip a beat. Can we keep falling forever? How long, how long? Can we stay like this forever Can we keep falling forever? You flew back to the stage and placed him on the ground again, still on the high platform as you swung around, he grabbing your hand, taking the lead.

I wanna know Can you ride through any storm? Can you ride from night till dawn? Till tomorrow and beyond? He lead you to the edge while he let go of your hand turning around to you and titled his head, smiling at you sweetly as he slowly fell backwards. His gaze locked with yours and his arms spread wide to his sides. He really trusted you. How long, how long You ran and jumped off the edge, his eyes closed as he heard you coming closer and reached out for you to catch him. Right before he could smash the ground you catched him and flew sharply above the sinners heads, hearing loud 'wow's and gasps. Can it just keep getting better? Can we keep falling forever? How long, how long Can we stay like this forever Can we keep falling forever? How long? You flew a few rounds around the room, walking on the railing which was pulling around the wall with him. It felt like one of this movies where two souls came closer because of a silly dance choreography. You always thought the idea of such things were quite cringe, too unrealistic. And for the human world it might really be. But not in hell. Not with him at your side. He jumped with grace above the little obstacles you could only hope to keep on it. Finally the railing ended, so you took him close again, as you felt him already pressed you impossible close to him. You steadily flew back on the lower stage, lifted you two straight up rotating around like you would slow dance. Can it just keep getting better? Can we keep falling forever? How long How long? Your feeds finally touched the ground again as you looked up at him. His heart was racing as fast as yours and he was panting. How long? “I hope you don’t hate me now.” You whispered smile crooked. He let out a chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours. “Never sweetheart. I must say, this was quite the experience. A wonderful one.” You almost lost it all because of his sudden action towards you.

The crowd cheered loudly and you slightly jumped, already forgotten about the several sinners who just watched this moment between you both from beginning to end. “Well dearest, look at that. They are all cheering for you.” You shook your head. “No for us both. You did great too.” He took your hand and pressed a kiss on your knuckles, his eyes darting to yours again, his lips warm as his breath as he whispered: “Not as wonderful as you. I just happened to have a breathtaking view…” His gaze trailed over your flushed face, chuckling quietly. He straightened up and turned around the crowd, still holding your hand as you copied him and took a bow. “After this…” He started, his head still lowered, as you two came up again. “...don’t mind finding me in the library.” Your whole body heated up as Charlie jumped on the stage pulling you two apart and already started to scream how amazing you were. “Oh my gosh you did it! You were so amazing!” She jumped excitedly. In the library...he wanted to meet you at the library. Oh Angel would not like this. Husk either. But you? Oh how terrified you were. Terrified about your feelings. What could he possible want from you now? You couldn’t bear one more close moment with him, or you would lose every control and lost it all. What does he want from you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

IT’S FINALLY UPLOADED!

I got so motivated right now so I just finished it right away. Let me know if you like this to be continued, because I already have the idea in my mind what Alastor wanted from you ~

And let me know your thoughts about this one shot as well of course! Have an amazing day/evening lovely sinner ♥

Here is the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6s8mY0P5xA

Also tagging the most beautiful soul on this platform: @fraugwinska

[dangopango00]

The Amazing Digital Circus and Escapism

A/N: Just watched and I LOOVEEEE cooking theories for these kinda of Youtube Series even if they turn out to be wrong so Heres the incomprehensible youtube comment I made just now bye

I like to put preliminary theories for series like this and my theory for this is that the circus is some kind of representation of escapism and/or maladaptive daydreaming

1. There's a shit ton of religious symbolism, maybe suggesting that the circus is supposed to be “heaven” although it has underlying hellish elements. For example, cain being portrayed as god and the fact that he doesn’t seem to really get why anyone would want to leave. In contrast, his name references the brother of abel who was cursed by god for his jealous rage. Not only this but, how everything is generally upbeat but there are momentary mental breaks when they are brought back to reality.

2. Reality is often blurred: The characters are real people but its suggested the lines are easily blurred like in the fact that pomni gets attached to a character that was never real to begin with or the fact that cain hints that it can be hard to tell the difference between real characters and npcs

3. Anecdotal but the fact that everyone seems to have a different vision for how the adventures should be played out: Jax wants action and violence, ragatha just wants something stimulating and pomni wants something comforting; the fact that jax gets upset when his vision isn't fulfilled feels very similar to mishaps when maladaptive daydreaming

4. Glitches and the video game setting overall: Idk if its just me but in maladaptive daydreaming its very easy for the mind to wander or mess up, causing a “glitch” in the story which I think is very similar to the glitches in the show

More UTC

5. The concept of VR itself is pretty much one step away from active escapism and although a bit of a stretch, I think the fact that the characters can’t take off their headset references their unwillingness to live in reality rather than actually being forced

6. Character behavior: How pomni goes from extremely weirded out to accepting and even slightly enjoying the circus feels very reminiscent of how it feels to first start maladaptive daydreaming as its an entirely odd thing to do but when you get into it it turns out to be fun and you keep doing it for hours. Ragatha is also interesting because she seems to ignore reality in favor of keeping herself sane, even ignoring devastating truths she realizes when she moves on from her mental breaks so quickly which is pretty much what maladaptive daydreaming is.

7. Exit: When pomni makes it to the exit and sees the desk setup with the headset, she began to lose her mind and instead of going forward to the next door she started going back (i think). I think this was her momentarily remembering how she felt like nothing in real life but in the circus she could be the main character (i think she struggled with feeling like nothing in the real world because of how much she brings it up and sympathizes with gummigoo, probably feeling like an npc irl) though either way she leaves the scene, likely not wanting to remember how her life was before.

8. Abstraction: Since we haven’t seen much of it Im still not completely sure but if I had to guess— I think abstraction is when you completely separate yourself from reality and live in a daydream full time since abstraction means “The quality of dealing with ideas rather than events” which is pretty much what escapism is; I think abstraction is likely a state of complete delusion as is hinted in the show by saying people who abstract are crazy

Overall I think the digital circus is probably either about escapism in general and/or a commentary on how we distract ourselves from serious topics almost as if we are children protecting ourselves from real life.

[biteofcherry]

It's Wetnessday my hoes 💦

You're invited along to a bachelorette in Vegas but don't have a great time. It's ok but you often get left out. Just like now in an expensive club that you can't even afford a drink in. You're watching your friends dance and have a good time until a handsome stranger sits down next to you. He's easy to talk to and even buys you a few drinks without seeming to want anything out of it. It's so nice you even forget your friends and your drinking limits. One drink too many and you're more than tipsy. Which ends with you waking up with a huge handover. You're sore all over and don't know why till you open your eyes and realize you went back to the hotel with the stranger who definitely was naked next to you. Holy shit his dick was huge and judging by the soreness it was inside you just a few hours ago. You go to rub your face and something sparkling on your finger catches your eyes. As you're freaking out your husband wakes up and makes sure any rational thought is fucked out of your brain. He can't have that when he's taking you to your new home later today.

Who's your new husband?

xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦

Hi Wetnessday Anon! 🥰 I hope you're feeling better and this week is treating you good 🩷

Now I decided to give it a serious thought. On one hand, many of my favored babes could fit the description of a charming, slightly deceitful man with a pretty, big cock 😎

Now I thought of not only which man would hold the conversation through the evening, making you feel at ease, but who wouldn't feel guilty for getting you really tipsy and using your vulnerable state to get what he wanted.

He may have been drinking, as well, but he sure paid attention to his level of alcohol. I don't believe the Vegas marriage here was pure stupidity and coincidence of the typical Vegas crazy drunk night. He orchestrated it. Even if it was a decision made on a whim. Bet it wasn't even an Elvis chapel, but some scared registrar brought to officiate the wedding in the privacy of the most expensive hotel room.

Which means your husband is someone who can be impulsive in his decisions, but makes sure their execution is perfected. No mistakes. No trails leading hounds to his door.

Lloyd crossed my mind, but would you really feel at ease with him in the beginning? There's this edge to him that wouldn't make you trust him enough to let him buy you more drinks.

Andy or Ari, however...

They don't spend each evening in their clubs, they have trusted people who are responsible for the smooth working of that business machinery. But it just so happens they were in that particular one when you and your friends were celebrating, since they held a meeting in the office right above the main floor.

Andy was quite annoyed with Ari, who kept glancing through the two-way mirrors at you, sitting there alone and nursing a drink while you pretended your smiles were genuine.

But Andy has been prickly lately, ever since the head of the mafia family declared that Andy was to solidify their take-over of the turf by taking a bride. A sister of the man who was now subservient to the new iron rule.

Andy would follow with the plan, even if he wasn't happy about it (even if he snapped at Steve Rogers himself that he should get himself a wife, if he so wishes for unions in blood).

Ari - the romantic that he was - fell into the wedding spirits. Especially as he watched the bachelorette party take over the dance floor and gain attention of most of the patrons.

He wasn't planning on actually marrying anyone, not at the moment as he walked down the stairs and onto the club floor. But then he slid onto that chair beside you and with each passing quarter felt the need to possess your attention forever increase.

Ari may not believe in love at first sight, but he trusted his instincts. And they whispered at him to take you. To make you his.

Now, as you screech and storm out of the bathroom, holding your hand outstretched as if the big diamond on your finger was burning you alive, Ari feels that excitement and satisfaction ignite anew.

Your eyes are so beautiful as you stare up at him shocked and hopeful, as if he could solve this problem and save you from any dangers.

And he will.

Just not from this marriage. No, this he will ensure you see as a blessing, not a problem at all.

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

Tell Me Some Things Last

Mobius & Sylvie (and Lokius at the end). Rated T. Angst, healing, friendship, minor references to self-harm, happy ending.

Mobius is paralyzed by his grief after Loki sacrificed himself to save the multiverse. It will take Sylvie helping him to face his emotions to give him his own happy ending.

Mobius couldn’t tear himself away from watching Don tidy up the front lawn after his kids had run havoc through the place. It was a life he hadn’t known, and even though he knew he could ask Sylvie to show him the memories if he wanted to, it wouldn’t change the fact he had a gaping hole in his heart. Looking back at his previous life was painful in a numbing kind of way. It was like his emotions were stuck somewhere within his body, unable to go anywhere. Tendrils of ancient grief floated along the surface but when he tried to grab hold, they slipped through his fingers and sank into the depths once more. He was weighed down by it, and yet it paled into insignificance at how much his heart ached from losing Loki. In all his time at the TVA—however long it actually was—he had never been close to anyone. Then Loki had arrived and he’d begun to feel again, to experience something within him: a hope, possibilities for the future. Now all he had was the tattered remains of his heart. “I wish I was with you,” he sighed, looking down at the ground and scraping his shoe up and down the sidewalk. The sun had been shining since he’d arrived here, reminding him of how another Loki had told his brother they would find their happy ending eventually. If only his Loki had been able to have one. Instead, he was trapped at the end of time sacrificing himself to outwit yet another egomaniac intent on removing choice from others. It should be embarrassing how often these things seemed to happen in the multiverse. They were an almost constant, just as Lokis were destined to lose. He knew Loki hadn’t wanted to be alone, and neither had Mobius. The only difference between them was that he could be surrounded by people if he wanted to; Loki was cut off from everyone. Mobius had never met He Who Remains, only a variant—and from what Loki had said, Timely was nothing like him—but he knew he had controlled everything and decided their fates, no matter how cruel or sweet. He’d been a dictator, an enslaver, and a tyrant. But he’d also lived a solitary life at the end of time with only Miss Minutes for company, and that would be enough to send anyone insane. Mobius knew loneliness, but he couldn’t imagine not being able to numb and escape it. When he’d had nothing but endless reports to wade through, never-ending detail to get lost in, it had been easier to cope with the scars he wore. The TVA hadn’t been a good place. He hadn’t been a good man while he was in it. He’d done terrible things as a hunter until his conscience refused to let him do it any longer, and then he had done ghastly things as an analyst by helping find variants when they went rogue. He’d once told Loki he was born to cause pain and suffering and death, but the truth was Mobius’ own role in the world had been to do the exact same thing to billions. He reached up and slipped a finger inside the sleeve of his shirt, rolling it across the silvery marks on his skin. In his worst moments, it had been a way to cope with the soul crushing pain of having taken people’s lives from them, until he’d sunk so low he almost felt nothing anymore. Above him, the sun was setting and he knew it was time to move on. He’d stood here for hours and now the curtains in Don’s house were being drawn and it was time to go. If only his feet could move from this spot. It took another flash of a timedoor and that same hand patting him on his shoulder to finally tear his gaze away. “Come on,” Sylvie said softly. “I think that’s enough. It’s time you had a drink.”

For @insert-witty-user-name-here. I hope you like it. 💕

Prompt fill for @lokiusbingo | wounded.

For anyone who has read the snippet and wants more, you can read the full fic on Ao3.

[problemswithbooks]

Is Cat a Kind of Inntinnsic?

The answer, the one I'm sure the author would give, would be no. The story in no way treats Cat's Gift as an Inntinnsic ability. Violet and particularly Xaden don't act as if what she does is at all similar to what an Inntinnsic does.

But I'd argue it has to be in order for it to work.

Because everything is first person from Violet's PoV or a rare chapter from Xaden, I sort of doubt the author really sat down and thought of how certain characters powers would work. If she did, i think she'd have realized Cat's Gift would function similarly to Xaden's second signet.

Cat can manipulate emotions. We're told she can't force someone to feel something they don't, but instead amplify what they do feel. On the surface that doesn't seem anything like an Inntinnsic ability. Where things become more complicated is how she uses that power.

If Cat can't implant an emotion, then she has to know what emotions the person is feeling. Sure, she could just be throwing her ability at people and seeing what sticks, or it could work in broad strokes; emotions overlap, so maybe any negative emotion can be made increasingly worse, while a good one amplified into pure elation.

I'd argue though that her power doesn't seem that broad, instead being pretty focused. Violet was easy to read so it wouldn't even have been hard to read that she hated Cat, and Cat threw out insults during their fight to make sure Violet is more susceptible to her Gift.

But the Venin she goes after at the end of the book wasn't as easy a read. She doesn't know this Venin. She's bragging and boastful, but whose to say that's greed and not pride? Or even done as a way to taunt Violet and make her more afraid?

Yet Cat manipulates the Venin without much difficulty, seeming to know exactly what emotions she's feeling without any trouble.

There's also the issue where people are generally feeling more then one emotion at a time. Violet is always in love with Xaden, but she can also be annoyed with him. Emotions aren't something that are felt one at a time--so how does Cat pick which one to manipulate without knowing instinctively what they're feeling?

I think it's very likely that Cat can either sense what people are feeling, or even see it (I'm thinking sort of like auras) and from there use her power to exaggerate which ever one she wants. It just makes the most sense.

But if that is the case, similar to how Xaden can read people's impulses and intentions, Cat could read their emotions. Now, that's not exactly mind reading, but Xaden's power isn't strictly reading minds either, yet he count's as an inntinnsic. To me what seems to make someone Inntinnsic is that they have no outward tell or rule for using their powers--they can just do it.

Dain isn't an inntinnsic because he requires touch to activate his memory seeing. As long as he does not touch you, you are safe from his ability.

Meanwhile, what makes inntinnsics such a security risk, is that they can activate their signet at anytime without anyone's knowledge. Xaden seems to be using his second signet constantly to read everyone, and no one has ever picked up on it at all.

In a way Cat's Gift seems to be similar in that she can use it without a hard and fast rule. She can just do it. If it works by letting her sense people's emotions, she could be constantly reading people Xaden does, but instead for intent, it's for their emotional state.

Does that not make her power Inntinnsic? Or at least Inntinnsic adjacent?

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know multiple of these are likely important to people, but I'm asking in terms of like - which of these do you tend to focus on the MOST, enjoy the most, that is most essential for you to actually care about the media, etc.?

(For example: someone finding "Relatability" most important would likely not enjoy a show much if they have trouble empathizing with the characters/relating to it, even if it were good otherwise. Or, someone might be able to overlook bad acting and ugly costumes, as long as the Character Dynamics are fun to them, because they value that more than Aesthetics- while for others, bad costumes would be a dealbreaker.)

Also feel free to reblog and explain your answer or more information in the tags- I've always been curious about people's relationships to media, how they conceptualize it/what they get out of it, how some people value some parts more than others, how that informs their overall taste and genres they may be more inclined towards, etc. :0c

[rimouskis]

okay I've decided against pursuing any sort of diagnosis re: my growing suspicions I have ADHD/something of that ilk for a variety of reasons, but it will NEVER stop galling me how I lack object permanence. like a baby. I need to have clear storage containers because if I cannot see something I forget it exists. it's both a relief to know that there is a potential "explanation" for such behavior but also realizing that most other people can do convenient things (like: remembering the existence of stuff) is also FRUSTRATINGGGG because I wish that was me! imagine being able to remember things not only casually but well! imagine that! god!

[alphajocklover]

Hey bro, I have a bit of a strange situation going on. You see, I’m a big nerd, like playing dnd, good at math, into card games nerds. And I never really questioned it. But recently, I’ve found myself wanting to be more active, I’ve been wanting to become something I am not, a big strong guy. And it all stared when I rediscovered the Xmen through the show and upcoming movie. Could you, I mean, would you mind helping me become like my ideal man, Wolverine?

I want to be the small hunky and hairy beats he is, oozing with libido and sex appeal.

It's a little strange, but I’ve been getting a lot of superhero requests recently! Not that I’m complaining, I love writing about superheros. They’re interesting characters who have long histories and decades of lore to use. Plus they’re usually hot as fuck. And Wolverine is one of the hottest. Muscular, with a thick layer of hair, and gruff as can be. He’s traditionally a loner, but he has a certain rough charm to him. There’s a reason he’s been a part of almost every superhero team at one time or another. People can’t get enough of the guy. It could be his inventive power set, his ability to change with the times and still remain interesting and relevant. Or it could be that he’s an incredibly manly hunk whose animalistic nature makes people weak in the knees. He’s everything you ever wanted to be, or at least everything you’ve wanted to be since you saw those new X-Men cartoons. When you watched them, something awakened in you. And now… you’re becoming just like him.

You’re not becoming him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Whatever is happening to you can’t give you claws like Wolverine or coat your skeleton in adamantium. I mean, in our world adamantium doesn’t really exist, and even though some transformation methods could turn you into a perfect replica of wolverine or add onto the periodic table, this one won’t do that. It’s more fun to be a stud without the responsibility of being a superhero anyways, especially since one of his main powers is to survive incredibly painful situations. Now you get all the pleasure, none of the pain, and an absolutely studly body.

One common fun fact that people like to bring up about Wolverine is the fact that he’s… while he’s short. Really short. Since Hugh Jackman is over 6 feet tall, people tend to forget that in the comics Wolverine is a complete shortstack, standing at 5’3”. So, I’m afraid to say that you’re going to shrink quite a bit. Luckily, being shorter just makes your new muscles look even bigger and better. Your biceps are enormous, your pecs are amazing, and your abs are almost inhuman. That, plus a heavy layer of manly, thick hair, and you look like you walked right off the pages of a comic book. Or out of a very suggestive movie. Of course you don’t want to just look like Wolverine. You want to be like Wolverine. Which means a few… adjustments to your personality.

That might seem daunting or scary at first, the idea that your personality is going to change. But you won’t feel that way very long. Nothing is going to faze you anymore. Just like Wolverine You’re tough as nails and you act like it. Literally nothing throws you. You’re a certified badass. Yes, you have a sensitive side like the real Wolverine, but most people aren’t gonna see that. Most people, from your manly new friends to the girls you hook up with, are going to see the manly man, the strong warrior, the beast.

There are some small differences between you and Wolverine of course. The main one being that the guy in the comics doesn’t hook up with people very often. Too busy saving the world. And when he does get a love interest, the feelings between them are pretty serious. You don’t have the same patterns. You’re the type of guy who has a new girl every night and is constantly looking for more pussy. You can’t help it, with a massive cock and an even bigger libido. You’re the best at what you do, and what you do is fuck.

**Hey guys! Hope I did Wolverine justice. He’s a super hot character and I had a lot of fun writing a tf inspired by him. Hope you enjoyed!**

[inkskinned]

kids remind me, often, of the things i've taught myself out of.

i have a big dog. he looks like a deer. he is taller than most young children. while we were on a trail the other day, a boy coming our direction saw us and froze. he took a step back and said: "i'm feeling nervous. your - your dog is kind of big."

goblin and i both stopped walking immediately. "he is kind of a big dog," i admitted. "he's called a greyhound. they are gentle but they are pretty tall, which is kind of scary, you're right. their legs are so long because they are made for running fast. i am sorry we scared you. would you like us to stand still while you move past us, or would you feel more safe in your body if we move and you stay still?'

"oh. i didn't know that about - greyhounds. i think i ... i want to stay still," he said. at this point, his adult had caught up to us. "i'm nervous about the dog," he told her, "so i'm - i'm gonna stay still." she didn't argue. she didn't make fun of him. she just smiled at him and at me and held his hand while goblin and i, with as wide of a berth as we could make, crept our way through.

behind us, i heard him exhale a deep breath and kind of laugh - "he was really big, huh? she said it's because greyhounds have to go fast."

"he was big," she said. "i understand why that could have made you a little scared."

"yeah. next time i - next time do you think i could maybe ask to touch him? when - i mean, next time, maybe, if i'm not nervous."

later, going to a work event, in the big city, i stood outside, trembling. my social anxiety as a caught bird in my chest. i took a deep breath and turned to my coworker. she's not even really my friend yet. i told her: "i feel nervous about this. i am not used to meeting new people, ever since covid."

she laughed, but not in a mean way. she said she was nervous too. she reached her hand out and held mine, and we both took another deep breath and walked in like that, interlinked. a few people asked us - together? - and i told the truth: i feel nervous, and she's helping. over and over i watched people relax too, admitting i feel really kind of shy lately actually, thank you for saying that.

the next time i go to an event, and i feel a little scared, i ask right away: wanna hold hands? this feels a little dangerous. i hesitate less. i don't hide it as much. i watch for other people who are also nervous and say - it's kinda hard, huh?

i know, logically, i'm not good at asking for help. but i am also not good at noticing when i need help. i've trained myself out of asking completely, but i've also trained myself to never accept my own fears or excuses. i have trained myself to tamp down every anxiety and just-push-through. i don't know what i'm protecting myself from - just that i never think to admit it to anyone.

but every person on earth occasionally needs comfort. every person on earth occasionally needs connection. many of us were taught independence is the same thing as never needing anything.

each of us should have had an adult who heard - i feel nervous and held our hand and asked us how we could be helped to feel safe. no judgement, and no chiding. many of us did not. many of us were punished for the ways that we seemed "weak".

but here is something: i am an adult now. and i get nervous a lot, actually. and if you are an adult and you are feeling a little nervous - come talk to me. we can hold hands and figure out what will help us feel safe in our bodies. and maybe, next time, if we're brave, we can pet the dog that's passing.

[indecisivemuch]

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach. 

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine. 

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better. 

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke. 

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside. 

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession. 

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy. 

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call? 

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing. 

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you. 

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before. 

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.” 

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him. 

You deserved better. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first. 

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book. 

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two. 

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this. 

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset. 

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied. 

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip. 

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face. 

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed. 

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be: 

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too. 

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what. 

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings. 

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy. 

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

masterlist

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[yourmidnightlover]

forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite. 

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 

-

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 

and then there was a knock at the door. 

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 

[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]

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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.