#hope to draw and write more of them soon ^_^

[dollzstrology]

⋆.ೃ࿔ 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍’ ᝰ Smoke stops by your shop, coming to check on you and the baby. After he’s with you for a while you realize he’s here for more than a welfare check, he interested in what’s between your thighs.

𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮… Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore

𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻… Explicit; smut + fluff, porn w/ plot, fem!reader, spiritual!reader [hoodoo], envisioned as black!reader while writing, half-canon & half non-canon, very similar to Annie x Smoke dynamic, established relationship [married couple], mom!reader & dad!smoke, pregnancy [second trimester], pregnancy sex, oral [fem!receiving], p in v, dirty talk. 1930’s time period. southern/country dialect used.

𝑫𝑼𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵… 3.5k words

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑭𝑹𝑶𝑴 𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑹… This is my first ‘Sinners’ fic and I’m soooo excited to be posting it! I’m already obsessed with Micheal B. Jordan but this movie made me love him 1,000 times more! All my Smoke lovers lmk how you like this fic! As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑺… Sinners M.List ・Sinners Taglist ・Main M.list

It’s a slow day at the shop, the perfect time for you to catch up with creating some batches of fresh herbal teas and home remedies for your customers when they come by. You have your radio humming low in the corner, keeping you company as you sing along and work, grinding some dried yarrow in your mortar and pestle.

You’re about to reach for the peppermint to add into the blend when a quiet shift in the air makes your skin prickle. You feel a presence come behind you before it can even make its way into your line of sight.

Your hand slips to the straight razor beside your tray and you spin around, steel flashing in the light, holding it right under their chin. “Elijah…” you say slowly, drawing out the vowels as if you’re warning him. “How many times I done told you ‘bout sneakin’ up on me while I’m workin’?”

“Put that blade up, woman, ‘fore you nick me.” Smoke replies with his gold tooth gleaming in the sunlight, unfazed by the weapon at his throat, knowing you would never actually harm him, plus it’s not the first time you’ve had a razor blade to his neck. “I jus’ came to love on you a lil’ bit.”

You stare at him a second longer, eyes narrowed, then you huff through your nose and lower the blade onto the table. You set it down with a little clatter and let him gather you up in his arms. His hands cradle your small belly bump, lips pressing gently against yours. “You always sneakin’ around. One day I’ma really cut your ass.” You mumble in between kisses while still embracing his love, spewing out out a threat you know will just end up being empty.

“And you still gon' love me, jus’ like I love you with that fire in yo’ mouth.” He replies, referring to your slick tongue and the feistiness within you that’s always making an appearance. Before you know it he’s kissing you slow and tender, like he don't plan on leaving anytime soon.

You lean into it, breathing in his scent: woodsmoke, Irish beer, and gunpowder. You rest your hand on his chest, right over his heart, giving him one last kiss before pulling back. “What you doin’ here in the middle of the day? Thought you and Stack was gettin’ the juke ready for tonight.”

“We are. I just… wanted to check on you. And the baby.”

“We alright.” You say with a smile, loving how he’s become even more attentive since you told him you were in the family way. “She movin’ more lately. Likes when I sing to her in the mornin’.”

“She? You still holdin’ onto that?” Despite you having all the hoodoo abilities to tap into the spiritual and supernatural realm, your husband swears he knows the gender of the baby. “I’m tellin’ you, it’s a boy. Gon’ be just like his old man.”

“Lord, I pray that ain’t true.” You tease, laughing while walking over to where your candles are, grabbing a match and lighting the wick. Having to deal with Smoke and Stack everyday, trying to keep them safe, and make sure they stay out of trouble is enough to worry about, you can’t imagine having to deal with that times three.

While your husband watches you light a candle, his eyes wander to all the things surrounding you; herbs, mojo bags prepped like the one he has around his neck, and other things you use as a hoodoo practitioner, makes a frown appear on his lips. “I don’t like you doin’ all this magic shit while you carryin’. You don’t know what kinda spirits you callin’.”

Smoke’s never been able to grasp the in and outs of hoodoo, he’s never been the type of man to believe in things like that but it doesn’t stop him from supporting you and taking your word on everything because he believes in you. He’s always been fine with it and never interfered with your work but now that you’re carrying his child he’s concerned.

“I been doin’ this since before you even knew my name.” you calmly reply, understanding his point of view but wanting to reassure him everything is fine and the baby isn’t in harm's way. “I was born into this. My momma did it carryin’ me, and her momma ‘fore her. You know I don’t call nothin’ dark in here.”

“I know. But still, it makes me nervous.” He finds his way behind you again, wrapping his arms around your mid section, resting his chin in the crook of your neck. “You my whole heart and this lil’ baby too. I don’t want nun bad happenin’ to y’all.”

You lean into his embrace, letting his warmth wash over you like a river. You close your eyes a moment, feeling a sense of peace settle in your bones from his presence. “I’ll be alright. We both will.” You place your hand over his, gently rubbing your thumb against his skin. “I promise.”

Smoke turns you in his arms, kissing you deeper than he did earlier, this interaction feeling more fueled by lust than love. You feel the pull of him, the same pull that causes you to gravitate towards him when his body is calling for you.

Things with Smoke are always easy, you and him have the type of chemistry where certain things don’t have to be explained, like you and him don’t have to discuss how he yearns for you, how just you touching him makes him feel like he’s about to crumble. You’ve always been his safe place so when he comes to you needing comfort, to blow off steam, or some sweet lovin’, you’re always happily ready to provide.

Without breaking the kiss he takes off his jacket, throwing it somewhere on the floor before gently lifting you onto your work table, sweeping some of your jars to the side so they won’t get damaged. Your hands are already at the buttons of his shirt, and his mouth trails down your throat, his tongue swirling over the place where your pulse beats strong.

The ceiling fan above spins lazy circles above the two of you but it doesn’t cut down on the Mississippi heat or the fire burning between you and him. Smoke’s palms slide up your thighs, rough and warm, pushing your flowly dress up bunch by bunch ‘til he’s gets you exposed, your panties already damp from the way he's been touching you.

“You wet f’me already, mama?” he hums low, his thick fingers pressing against the wet cotton, a smug expression comes across his face that’s filled with pride. You bite your lip, nodding as he hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls them down your legs, letting them fall to your ankles before taking them off.

“Always wet for you, ‘lijah,” you whisper, voice breathy and thick with need for what lies beneath his waist. “You know that.” He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, the only person on Earth who’s allowed to say his birth name, the only one who says it so sweetly it makes him want to hear it again and again.

He drops to his knees, kissing the inside of your thighs like he’s praying at an altar. The farther he moves up your body, slowly making his way to your sweet sweet center, you can feel your heart pounding with anticipation. Once he’s done teasing, his mouth meets your core, warm and wet, tongue parting your slit nice and slow, allowing your delicious taste to settle on his tongue before he starts to really ravish you.

You gasp when the warmth from his mouth comes in contact with your pussy, trying to control yourself before shoving his head deeper between your legs. His tongue gives your folds the most attention in the beginning, repeatedly moving up and down, giving you a nice warm up before he turns things up a notch.

Smoke’s starts giving your clit some love, the tip of his tongue gently grazing over it before applying pressure, causing your hips buck instantly and him to groan into your heat, making you moan from the vibrations. The more he eats your pussy, smearing your slick across his face, and him angling his mouth and sucking your clit so well it feels like your spirit is levitating, edges you closer and closer to releasing all over his face. “Mhm! Smoke, right there!”

If you could see the look on this man’s face there would definitely be a smirk across his lips, hearing those words from you, spoken in that needy tone you use when he’s hitting all those right spots, makes his dick rock solid. Of course with him being a gentleman ‘n all, his first priority is making sure his wife is taking care of, so he’s gonna make sure you get one off before he does… but not without making you work for it first.

Your fingers thread through his coarse hair, hips rolling up into his face to create more friction and help you chase your high faster. The moans that fall from your lips aren’t as soft as they were earlier. They’re raw, hungry, each one more whiny than the next. You can feel that pressure in your stomach beginning to build up and when you feel his fingers protruding the entrance of your pussy, you already know you’ll be cumming in a couple minutes or less.

When that feeling starts growing stronger and intense, about to take over your body and allow you that sweet release, Smoke pulls back making you glare at him as if he has two heads. “I know you ain’t gonna jus’—”

Smoke give you the smallest smirk as he stands up, licking your juices off his lips, already knowing how you’re about to finish that sentence. “I ain’t, baby. I jus’ wanna feel you wrapped ‘round me when I make you cum.” He undoes his belt, slow and deliberate, his predatory gaze looking at your body. You watch as he frees himself from his slacks, thick and undeniably hard, the sight alone making your mouth fill with saliva, wanting him to just fill you up already.

He helps you get off the table, lifting you by your waist and gently placing you on the ground. Once your feet hit the wooden floor he’s barking out orders. “Turn ‘round and put them hands on the table.” You obey without question, leaning forward and angling your ass in the air.

Once you're in position Smoke comes up behind you, pushing your dress up until it’s past your hips, giving him a full view of your ass that he’s practically obsessed with. He takes a moment to take in the sight in front of him, your pretty ass on display, your juices slowly dripping down your thighs, and your hole clenching around nothing, begging to be stuffed.

Your husband bites his lip, his dick twitching against his thigh in anticipation of what’s to come once he wrapped around your velvety walls. He gives himself a few strokes before gliding his dick across your folds, allowing your slick to gather on his tip and mix with his precum, using the fluids as a lubricant. He grounds himself in his stance and places himself at your entrance, slowly pressing himself inside you, stretching you wide open with his girth.

When he enters your wetness, a groan slips through his bared teeth, his hands wrapping around your full hips as he lowers his eyes and watches his dick begin to disappear into your heat. Even though you’ve had sex with Smoke a million times, every time he fucks you it somehow feels the first time. A sound flies out your mouth, something that’s a mixture of moan and cry when you feel him stretching you out every time he pushes another inch of himself inside you.

You’re not in pain, it’s just the delicious burn that comes with being with a man that’s well endowed. Your hands begin to grip the end of the table, needing to balance the pressure you’re feeling in your lower region. “I got you, baby. Jus’ relax.” Smoke whispers while placing a few soft kisses on your back, reassuring that he has everything under control.

Feeling his lips press against your skin makes you clench around him, so tight that he lets out sharp breath, trying to keep himself from busting on the spot. He's not even fully inside you yet and he’s already teetering on the edge of having his own orgasm. He allows both of your bodies to adjust, for both of you to become one flesh, slowly nudging his dick further and further into your pussy until he bottoms out.

After a few moments his pelvis is flush with your ass and he just holds there, waiting until you’re ready. Once you relax and he feels your body loosen up, he takes that as a green light to continue and start applying some real pressure. He slowly slides out, pulling out almost halfway before rolling his hips and pressing back into you, beginning a series of long strokes into your pussy.

Your mouth flies open, moans filling your small shop as Smoke thrusts into you with no plan on stopping anytime soon. He angles himself slightly upward, giving himself the perfect position to continually hit your g-spot until you cum around him. At this point you and him are both dripping in sweat, droplets traveling down your face and towards the spillage of your breasts and his trickling down his chest and torso.

You decide to not let your husband have all the fun and start throwing it back against him, meeting him in the middle of each thrust, creating an echo of your skin slapping together. Smoke groans, loving the sound of your skin colliding each time he pushes himself deeper inside you. “Pussy feels so good, baby. Makes me wanna get yo' ass pregnant all over again.” He mutters before throwing his head back.

Ever since you’ve become pregnant Smoke swears your pussy has become even better, which he didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know if it’s because you’re more sensitive now, that you’ve been able to become so wet to the point he sometimes slips out, or your body is just preparing for the baby but either way he loves it.

“You talkin’ like I ain’t already carryin’ your baby.” you manage to pant between moans, lips curling up into a soft grin. “Lemme get this baby out first before we talk about another one.”

Smoke chuckles low, a sound that doesn’t come from him too often but when he’s around you it easily emerges. “Can’t help it.” he murmurs, breath hot on your skin. “You so damn good to me. Make me wanna keep you knocked up, full a’me all the time.”

He punctuates his words with a deep roll of his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyes. Your fingers curl around the edge of the table, knuckles white as you brace yourself against the slow, deliberate strokes that are unraveling you, thread by aching thread.

The scent of yarrow, rose, and the musk of your joined bodies hangs heavy in the air, brewing in the humid Mississippi heat. You feel like a woman possessed, bent and spread in the middle of your sacred space, lost in the kind of pleasure that only Smoke can provide.

It doesn’t take long before Smoke starts going harder and faster, his thrusts becoming relentless as tears of pleasure stream down your face. His pelvis slams against your backside with every stroke, the table rocking from your tight grip and his rough movements, causing a few jars of herbs to fall on the floor but you’re too fucked out to care. You cry out each time he hits the spot that makes your knees weak, your nails scratching at the wood while his balls slap against you.

“Say my name, baby.” he pants, giving your ass a nice hard love tap before his hand return to your hips. “Tell the whole Delta who fuckin’ you this good.”

Your breath catches, your body trembling with the raw fire he’s stroking inside you. You bite your lip, eyes squeezing shut as the waves of pleasure crash over you. “You fuckin’ me so good, Elijah.” Your voice trembling as the words spew out your mouth. “Can’t nobody fuck me like you can.”

He growls your name back, deep and full of hunger, sends a shiver straight down your spine. His hands dig into your hips harder, pulling you flush against him, every thrust driving deeper, more urgent. “You my woman.” he snarls low, voice rough like thunder, his possessive ways making an appearance. “Ain’t no woman on this earth meant for me but you.”

His words break through all your control and with a cry, your body collapses against his, your muscles convulsing in waves as you fall apart, every nerve ending going up in flames, breathes coming in sharp gasps as you let go. His name spills from your lips again and again, one of Smoke’s many weaknesses when it comes to you.

Smoke grunts as he continues to thrust inside you, repeatedly brushing against your g-spot until you quiver tightly around him again, your walls rapidly pulsing around his shaft. Your orgasm rips through you and a loud whine fills the air, your legs beginning to shake and your balance falter, causing your husband to tighten his grip around you so you won’t collapse on the hard wooden floor.

Soon after you Smoke’s body succumbs to its own pleasures, his orgasm washing over him as he releases his hot seed deep inside your walls, the thick sticky fluid reaching the depths of your womb, his body shuddering until his high levels out.

Smoke exhales a deep, satisfied groan as he gently pulls out of you, careful not to move too fast, not wanting to overstimulate you. Your body jerks slightly, a soft whimper slipping from your lips at the sudden emptiness. He leans down immediately, pressing a line of kisses along your spine like an apology, his strong hands gliding up your sides with a gentleness that replaces how rough he was just being.

“You okay, baby? I ain’t hurt you, did I?” he murmurs, voice low as always, but sweet, filled with a certain softness that only you are allowed to hear. He’s usually not rough with you, he hasn’t been since you’ve become pregnant but he’s been wound up, things with Club Juke and business deals, he needed this as an outlet for his issues but now that his brain fog has cleared he wants to make sure you’re alright because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ever hurt you.

You shake your head, resting your forehead against the table, lips parting with a small, breathless laugh, still trying to regulate your breathing. “You ain’t hurt me, ‘lijah. I’m doing good, real good.” you whisper, eyelids heavy, wanting to just go home and soak in the tub. “But I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk right for a while.”

He chuckles at that, one that’s filled with satisfaction of his previous actions, that he once again fucked you ‘till you can barely walk. “Lemme help you out then.” Smoke easing you up into his arms, bridal style, like you don’t weigh a thing and placing you into the chair in the corner of your shop. He grabs a clean towel from the hook near the window and dampens it with some fresh water before he starts cleaning you up, making sure he's as gentle as possible.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to the curve of your belly, whispering something low to the baby that makes you melt all over again. Smoke pulls up a stool and sits beside you, pulling you close until your head rests against his chest. “Think we scared off the spirits in here.” you mumble, giggling softly, knowing that your ancestors probably wouldn’t approve of you having relations on sacred ground.

Smoke chuckles at that, his hand stroking lazily over your thigh. “Well, they need to let grown folks do what they s’pose to do. Don’t need them watchin’ us no way.”

You hum softly, nuzzling closer, feeling his lips press against your temple and his hand making its way to your belly for the millionth time today, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your warm skin. “Gon’ be a good daddy to this baby.” he adds after a beat, his voice steady now, that rare, open affection in his tone. “Better than mine ever was.”

You lift your head just enough to meet his brown orbs, looking up at him with pure love in your eyes. “I know you will. You already are.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the wind brushing against the shutters, the faint creak of the old ceiling fan above, and the gentle rhythm of your breathing syncing with his. “I love you, Elijah.”

“Love you too, mama. Always.”

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 — @Yungblud423 @nostlicions @loveabledovee @secretisme4 @pinkkycherrish @bl3ssyn @shamansha @queenofklonnie22 @rios-st4rs @Secretlifeofpreshap @bxrbie1 @t-wylia @bendoverboo18 @milesf4vg1rl @secret89sblog @gabbysbl0gg

— all rights reserved ©𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐙𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost repost on other platforms (ex. AO3 or Wattpad) nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Helping Hand

Content: Non proof-reader; Android! Caleb + Overstimulation + Fake cum + Size difference + Dacryphilia + Praise kink + Aftercare

Summary: You chose to buy one of those new androids in the market, after all, with the little time you had, it was logical for you to get one! But after your birthday party, you can't help but feel like something has changed within Caleb...

Note: I'm finally done with exams but now my brain is dry... On another note, I have to keep on writing my novel! It has nothing to do with my usual work here, but I really should keep on writing cause I have so much ideas for cool characters! Wish I could draw them... I hope people get the ideas of how Android! Caleb lower half works...

Note 2: I just put some fake nails and writing has become so difficult... Had to use two pens towards the end...

Android! Caleb who opens his eyes and encounters your face. He was programmed to be cold, always following the orders of the person who bought him. At least, that was what he had learnt, as you soon rebooted his whole system, changing his personality to a softer and more "human" one. He is still quite confused, why would he need to have a personality for serving a human? Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange rush of electricity run through his system, maybe he had a strange type of malfunction?

Android! Caleb who becomes accustomed to taking care of you. He is always close to you, always waiting by the door of the house a few minutes before your arrival, food still warm and waiting for you to eat, the house completely in order from him cleaning it... Gosh, you could even feel all the tension leaving your body as soon as you entered your house. You allowed him to carry you to the bathroom, head resting against his soft chest as you let him undress you, letting your clothes carefully folded as he helped you get inside the lukewarm bath.

Android! Caleb who becomes your only caretaker. It took him less than a few days to get completely used to your body language, knowing exactly what you wanted, when you wanted it and even how you wanted it. He was basically reading your mind, always one step ahead, letting you rest your exhausted body on his bigger body, his soft hands caressing your hair as his mechanic heart kept pumping the blue liquid all over his system. You knew you shouldn't get so attached to him, but how were you supposed to stop yourself from it when he knew you like the palm of his hand?...

Android! Caleb who receives a strange update. It had recently been your birthday, so you decided to make a small party, nothing big, really. You invited a few of your friends from work, together with some other friends from when you were still studying, organising a small party at your house for all of you to drink and have fun while watching some low-quality films. It was around 3:00 when you started to feel your eyelids dropping, with your friends too focused on the climax of the film for them to notice, you chose to simply fall asleep in the cozy sofa, surely someone would wake you up sooner or later, right?

Android! Caleb who becomes much more... domestic. You didn't notice the first few days, still unaware of the strange update your friends had added as a "gift" for you. Yes, it was a bit strange for Caleb to always greet you with a hug and a kiss on your forehead, but hey, maybe it was something that they had added in one of the millions of updates Caleb had, maybe some client had complained about them being too stiff? Whatever, it wasn't as if you were particularly concerned about it, in fact, you did like it a bit...

Android! Caleb who finally puts his update to good use. It was late at night when you suddenly felt the urge to do it. It wasn't something particularly strange, with you being alone most of the time and all the stuff you liked reading and listening... What was strange was the moment the door to your bedroom was knocked. You quickly hid your naked lower half with the sheets trying your best to get your phone to hide the content you were seeing. "Caleb?" You whispered, heart beating rapidly in fear of having been discovered by him. "Pips? I'm sorry for disturbing you so late at night, but my systems have warned me that my owner, that is you, is currently in need of my assistance." You furrowed your brows, slightly confused about what was he even implying, still, you knew Caleb was unable to cause any harm to you, so you simply sighed, letting him enter without much thought. "So what was wrong, Caleb?" Caleb smiled, sitting close to you and petting your hear with his rough hands. "My system told me you needed my help, do you need it? I have been upgraded with the latest system, allowing me to help you in this kind of delicate activity." Still confused, you simply nodded, after all, the system tended to be right. As soon as you did so, Caleb removed the sheets that were covering your body, his huge hands lifting your legs with ease, getting them closer to your face, just enough for your slick pussy to be in front of his face.

"Caleb! Just-- Just what are you doing?" You tried your best to get him to let go of your ankles, squirming around with not much luck, with Caleb still retaining his sweet smile.

"I'm fulfilling my new tasks, you allowed me to do so." Caleb's arm moved, changing his grip on your thigs to keeping your body in position with just his arm. "Now, no more moving, pips, I need you to remain calm so I can help you appropietly." Caleb's tongue stick out, this time looking slightly longer than usual, his right hand making his way to your entrance as his mouth got closer to your clit.

"Wa--Wait a second! I'm pretty sure this was NOT included when I bought your model--!" Caleb stopped for a second, his expressions remaining as sweet as always.

"It wasn't. Your friends added it to my program in hopes of making you happier, they explained it to me and I agreed. I believed it would truly help you destress. I hope I will actually ." Caleb moved closer, spreading soft kisses all over your lower tummy, making a small path towards your pussy. At the same time, his hands started to glide towards your entrance, teasing it with his fingers by simply gliding up and down on it but never actually inserting them, simply coating his fingers with your lewd fluids. "Let me know if you feel any discomfort." Caleb's mouth slowly got closer, wet kisses being left around your clit as a way to tease your sensitivity, being unable to not smile after seeing your back arch from the sudden touch. Following the set procedure, Caleb slowly entered one of his fingers, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue and making you cling to the sheets, soft whimpers leaving your mouth even despite you tried to cover your mouth with your hands as a way to avoid letting even more shameful sounds escape. Suddenly, one of Caleb's hands moved, grabbing your wrists with ease and pinning them on top of your head. "I need to hear you so I can know exactly what you need." Caleb moved, his face now facing yours before diving himself into a deep kiss, his right hand still playing with your clit, making short circles around it regardless of your poor attempts of squirming away.

"Ca... Caleb! Too much-- it's too much!" You whispered, chest puffing up and down as you tried to recover from Caleb's kiss.

"My name is not the safe word, you should probably know that." Caleb suddenly switched positions, letting your back rest against his chest, his legs tangled around yours to avoid letting you try to close your legs, his lips kissing yours as he moved one of his hands to your chest, playing with your nipple as the other hand kept slowly moving inside you, searching for that sweet spot until you let a whimper escape you. "This must be your g-spot, right? Gotta make sure you enjoy this." Caleb kissed your face, peppering soft kisses all over your face as he slowly introduced another of his digits, his fingers constantly hitting that spot even as you kept trying to move away from him, with Caleb simply laughing softly against your ear, pushing his fingers even deeper inside. "You're so cute... Humans always react so vividly to the stimuli..." You could't help but feel embarrased, with Caleb's mocking tone reverberating inside your head as he kept forcing you to cum around his fingers, using his other hand to pinch and twist your nipples with just enough force.

It had been over 20 minutes since your sweet torture had begun, with Caleb moving and hitting the exact place you were craving, forcing you to close your eyes from the overstimulation. "Caleb~... That's enough... I don't think I can cum more..." Your voice sounded now raspy from all your whines and moans, with Caleb obviously ignoring them, simply cooing you.

"That's alright, then we can finally move to the main course, right?" Caleb finally let you move a bit, getting up and removing his trousers, leaving them on your chair before returning to the bed. "Let me syncronise my tools, alright?" Suddenly, Caleb's lower half changed from the usual plain surface to the shape of an erect cock, his . "Let me just..." Caleb got on top of you, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, moving his hand to grab his cock and starting to rub it against your entrance, letting some of his self-lubricating fluid just for extra caution. "I'll do it slowly, open wide now, pips." You took a deep breath as Caleb's cock entered you, softly biting against his shoulder as a way to stay calm. "Such a good girl... Just a bit more." And you could simply whine, your insides already feeling as if they were about to tear as Caleb finally bottomed out. "So good for me..." Caleb caressed your cheek, kissing your forehead as he started to move, barely moving a few centimeters before pushing back in, nails digging on his back as he kept pressing his body against yours. "Just a bit more... It will feel so good in just a few minutes..." Caleb pressed your mouths together, sucking on your tongue before starting to french kiss you, a strand of saliva connecting you both the moment the kiss ended.

As the minutes passed, you were finally able to get used to his size, the slight discomfort changing into pure pleasure, making your eyes roll back each time he rubbed that spot. "You feel so nice wrapped around me... Let me help you a bit baby." Caleb lifted your body with ease, laying your body on your front before moving back on top of you, his cock entering you, the pressure of his weight making you bite on the pillow that was close to you, whinning as Caleb's hand made light pressure on your lower stomach, just enough for you to start feeling his length even more, each thrust making your walls wrap around his cock, the system of Caleb slowly getting overheated each time you clenched around him. "Be careful... My system may get a bit overwhelmed if you keep clinging so much to me..." That was of course easier said than done, after all, it had been such a long time since you had been able to feel so good... Still, you tried your best, taking a deep breath and hugging your pillow, a few tears falling down your cheeks as you felt your mind slowly slipping away.

"Too big... You're crushing me~..." You whined, the heat radiating from Caleb mixed with the feeling of having your insides scrambled being enough to make your head feel overwhelmed. Regardless of that, Caleb kept going, his hips bumping against your ass each time he forced his whole length inside you, his hands petting your hair whole he whispered soft praises against your ear.

"So good... Cum all around me pips, show me just how much you're enjoying this..." Caleb's raspy voice echoed inside your mind, the embarrasment of having your own android seen you so fucked dumb suddenly leaving, letting you only focus on how much you wanted Caleb to praise you... So of course you did just as he asked, your gummy walls pulsing around his cock as you felt a warm liquid filling you up, forcing you to cum for who knows what time, toes curling as you felt Caleb increasing his rhythm at the same time you came, then slowing down as he felt your breath become even heavier.

After letting you recover your breath for a few minutes, you felt Caleb lifting you up from the bed, carrying to the bathroom with ease and letting you rest inside the warm bathtub and using a soft towel to scrub you, removing all the sweat together with the mixture of his cum and all your fluids. He then left for a few minutes, returning with a huge towel, wrapping your whole body around it before taking his sweet time drying it. After that, all you could remember was te warm embrace of Caleb, mixed with the fresh smell of a new set of heet together with the citrusy smell that emanated from him.

[jumblejee-afaik]

if you want to watch the stars, let’s just watch the stars, or so he says.. 😵‍💫💫

an extra doodle of mithril and march under the cut ^_^

mithril’s physically mute due to an injury during the earthquake but can get around fine with aldarian sign language! i made it so that he learned a spell (kind of like spell of tongues in dnd) where people get to understand him for a short time. im writing his backstory in a longform fic and hope to explore his relationship with march (and his past!) then :- )

[saltynsassy31]

*drags myself through the floor and slams this down*

I present to you

FULLMETAL BARTENDERS AVIAN AU

Divine Nugget Au

(Rant as to why I chose the White-throated Needletail as Blurr's bird and some minor AU lore under the cut)

And that's not all! It comes with a FULL FLEDGED COMIC!!!!!

I spent a whole fucking week on this

I haven't done a comic in 4 years now, I can't believe this is my come-back XD. Though, on that note, know that I probably won't be pumping out any more comics - not any time soon, at least. But I do got more stuff planned for this au! If you ask about it, I'll 100% rant about it LOL

Tw// ⚠️mild gore in the 3rd panel⚠️

While exploring the woods with his team, Swerve had an unfortunate encounter with a crazed hunter. In an attempt to escape, he got injured, but it seems he wasn't the only one caught in the crossfire...

.

.

Okay

So when you look up what the fastest bird in the world is, Google with show the Peregrin Falcom

But there's a catch

The Peregrine is only fast when diving

When it dives to catch its prey, it can go up to 389km/h

Which yeah, pretty fast

But when casually flying, it only goes up to 120 iirc

The Needle Tail?

It can go up to 170km/h

Some have even recorded going over 300! (Close to the Falcon's dive, I believe)

Additionally, these birds only fly. Their habitat is literally listed as "the air," and some even believe they sleep while flying! They only ever land to brood and mate, and then they're off again. Their legs are so short that, if they ground, they can't fly again because it doesn't give enough room to flap their wings.

It fits Blurr perfectly!

It also has a blue-ish colour pattern I can work with lol (it's green, but it looks blue, lol)

Though, also, he isn't 100% like the Needle Tail, just based off of it. I still want avians to be sorta their own species and doesn't have to be exactly like their bird counterparts cuz they aren't them, they're their own thing.

That said, Blurr is one of the shortest from Avians population, still.

They're pretty big.

Another trivial detail of the design!

I was stuck between having his arms be his wings or have them be separate

Until I saw a drawing where they had both, and I realised, "Wait, why isn't that done more often! That's so cool!"

So that's sorta what I did

It's mainly to catch small prey when grounded and to stay better perched up on trees since they're much bigger and having extra fingers helps a lot. Or when they're climbing against a tree to pick up fruits, it gives them an extra boost and can better hang from it

But they're pretty much useless besides that lol

Just neat lil design choice

Other lore stuff. The time in which the au takes place is vaguely modern? But with fantasy aspects? I still haven't decided lol

Technology exists, but not in the way we have it sort of deal, idk, this au is pretty bare bones right now, so go wild with it XD I don't mind it, I love brainstorming it with people. I know this au isn't as big or complex as some others out there, but it's fun, and I hope yall like it too fjsjajaj

[sunfloweraro]

I’m by no means a seasoned artist, but my lovely friend @tiredgaytheatrekid drew Bunny and Wolfie snuggling and I was inspired to draw this! I hope you all love it as much as I do <33

Also tagging @thatonecrazysidekick (legally I couldn’t not!)

[javierduffy]

I have been having... a very bad day. Any spare fluffy headcanons for the boys? (and maybe some nsfw ones if you're up to it-)

ohh no my dear helena !!! its unfortunate that you’re having a rough day today :( remember that everything is temporary and that this day, like every other hard day before (and all following after), will pass in its own time.

i can absolutely spare some fluff ! that’s all i’ve got !

• javier goes to bed at about the same time that kieran is waking up every morning, right before dawn, and it’s a common occurrence that he will forget to untie his hair before laying down for bed, especially after a long night of guard duty. kieran will notice every time, and knows himself how easily long hair can get matted, so he will beckon javier over so that he can untie his bow. usually, he’ll also take the time to run his fingers through javier’s hair to detangle it as well, so that he’s even less likely to wake up to knots. javier adores it, teetering with the weight of his head and leaning hard into kieran’s legs on each side of his shoulders- sometimes kieran will even indulge himself in giving javier a head massage. javier never sleeps better, and coincidentally, he began forgetting to take his hair down a lot more after moving out to clemen’s point ….

• javier snuck kieran his first bowl of pearson’s stew after ‘making a social call’. john kicked kieran off his horse at the entrance of camp and javier watched as the latter dredged himself through the brush to what would become his usual resting place behind the rock by the horses. he looked miserable, dead on his feet, and javier knew by then he’d been weeks without a meal. he was a dirty, disloyal, unholy traitor of an o’driscoll, but something about his sunken eyes, the shake in his hand as he lit his first cigarette as a free man again- likely to quell off the hunger- it urged javier to act in a way that he’d never felt before. javier could kill a man in cold blood easier than he could stand to watch fear starve a man even after his hands are free to reach for the bowl. the study for learned helplessness in psychology will come years later, but javier understands himself now through watching kieran’s instinctual desire to survive be beat out of him by the gang javier dedicates his life to. with a healthy amount of spite to himself, he scoops a heaping amount of fresh stew into the cleanest bowl he can find, and sets out to add a fresh layer of flesh to kieran’s prominent bones.

• following this, cooking for kieran is one of javier’s favourite things to do when they get together. javier will cook for him traditional mexican dishes from home (as best he can. both with his limited skills and also with his limited accessibility to the proper ingredients. (probably for the best that he can’t get authentic chili peppers from home and has to use a less spicy chili native to this northern climate. kieran does okay with spice but it isn’t in his genetics to truly have a high tolerance.)) and not only will it be an unknown love language from javier, to feed kieran and make sure he is full, but it will also be a love language from kieran, to let javi share a piece of home with him.

• ^ also applies to modern au javieran ! javier loves cooking, and especially for kieran. they would cook together, but kieran struggles to cook with other people in the room, and javier gets so absorbed in it that he’d likely be running into kieran or otherwise being unhelpful in aiding in making sure the dish is being cooked correctly because he’s too Locked In to guide kieran LOL but they’re more happy to simply keep each other company, anyway. kieran on the counter/table/floor, watching javier sing and dance to the music he’s blasting from their speaker. cue dancing in the kitchen when the love songs come on (here’s a good one (rip javier escuella you would have loved dannylux)). the parallel play and quality time with these two is off the charts

• come mid/late clemens point, the way javieran make most of their money for the camp is by going on days-long fishing dates, laughing and laying close to one another in the grass under a tree on the riverbank in the shroud of darkness. they come back to camp flushed as all get out but with stacks of cash in their hands wadded up so thick no one dares to ask where it came from. kieran will get excited at even the smallest of fish, perking up and sharing/asking javier for tidbits on the species. they never miss a bite, either. one time one of the bells on their bobber rods rang once and they both broke out of a very hot and heavy make-out sesh so fast that javier tripped on kieran and nearly broke both of their wrists. they laughed so hard about it, javier was certain that by the time he arrived to his rod, the fish had already successfully ripped the bait off of his hook. he reeled in a boot, at the end of it all. he never lives it down.

• kieran is ambidextrous, and javier is fascinated by it. javier stumbled upon kieran writing on one rare occasion, and noticed immediately that he was writing with his left. “left handed, huh ?” kieran cocks his head at him in thought. javier wonders why on earth he would have to stop and think about a question like that. “uhh, not really ?” well, now javier is simply confused. “right, then ? is something wrong with your dominant hand ?” “um … no, that’s not it either …” and at this point, javier is demanding kieran explain what the hell he’s talking about, and why he’s pulling a prank on him. cue kieran explaining and javier making him do all kinds of silly “tests” like writing, shooting, playing guitar (as if kieran is going to any better with either when neither of them can do it right to begin with) because he finds it so cool.

• modern au kieran gets overstimulated incredibly easily, so he’s got a pair of noise canceling over-ear headphones that he often wears to dampen sensory input and ground himself when there’s a lot going on. when it’s cleaning day, generally no matter what he’s doing, he HAS to wear his headphones. javier is left to dodge him the same way he has to dodge the cats when they’re weaving in and out of between his feet. it also leaves him to dance to his own tunes when kieran suddenly swoops or sways or dips him to the music only he can hear- though just as often, javier will catch kieran dancing by himself and he will simply be unable not to join him, even though he can’t hear what it is he’s dancing to. as overwhelming as they can be, cleaning days for javieran somehow always end up feeling more like a date than anything.

• on a similar note, kieran also wears his headphones to bed, and listens to asmr/white noise to sleep. the pressure helps him feel safe, and the silence of a room makes him anxious. he also has a terrible bedhead and rbf in the morning. both of these things javier finds incredibly charming, and if he ever does wake up when/before kieran does (incredibly rare), this is his pov (right before he tries to kiss kieran’s face off and gets shoved away with a sleepy giggle that only bolsters his aggression);

nsfw under the cut !

and how could i resist a chance to finally talk about this ;3€ ?? i’ll try to keep them fluffy !

(context, i hc both of them as tguys usually (though im content with writing javier as amab too), with both of them being absolute, unabashed switches. they have little preferences anywhere in terms of bottoming/topping, though kieran has a preference for subbing, and javier has no qualms with domming more frequently.)

• as much raunchy, animalistic sex that javieran have, they have double as much slow, loving, tender sex. and most times between, they’re having raunchy, loving, animalistic sex.

• javi loves to turn kieran’s brain off, he loves more than anything to make kieran feel so overwhelmingly pleasured that he forgets everything that ever has, ever could, or ever will happen to him. nothing gets javier off quite like seeing the face of bliss kieran makes when all he can think about is javier’s mouth/hands/cock working overtime just to make him feel good.

• both of them i think are quite vocal when they’re able to be, and kieran tends to be vocal whether he’s supposed to be or not. both of them often dissolve into whimpers and “i love you”s and praise like “you feel/sound/taste so good” by the end. their love for each other has a carnal grasp on every aspect of their sex lives as well <3 so they’re always speaking so sweetly to each other, even if the way they growl it seems violent

• javier LOVES love bites. he loves to mark kieran up and he especially loves to bite and lick and suck on his neck, not only because of the primal aspect of his jugular being so close (as well as the warmth of his pulse thrumming against his mouth), but also because it arouses kieran to the point of making him shiver nearly every time. javier has permission to bite him hard, but it’s pretty rare that he ever does, and it’s only late into their relationship does javier feel like it will be more pleasure for him than it would just be pain. sometimes he can’t help it though, he’ll get so worked up that he just latches on and the way that kieran tightens around him is mind-numbing.

• unironically i think kieran is a GREAT soft dom, and that is something that javier generally had never experienced prior to getting with kieran. javi thinks it’s hot to be man-handled and roughed up, and kieran can do his very best (despite the constant guilt and fear) if javier is really feeling it, but where he really excels is soft domming. once the nerves melt off, he’s so gentle with javier that it makes the latter’s skin hot all over. constantly praising him, cooing at him, asking him nicely, rewarding him for good behavior, all the while touching him oh-so-gently, it all makes javier feel so awkward but so, so good. kieran makes him feel so loved and worshipped that the world in which he has anything to question simply just fades away, and all he has to think about is doing what meager tasks kieran asks of him.

• they find so much peace in each other’s bodies. in every rib and wrinkle and sunspot, these two will spend hours simply exploring and enjoying the body of the other in whatever the closest form of “privacy” they can manage to acquire. turns out, kieran has sunspots all over him. turns out, javier has a keloid scar on the back of his bicep. turns out, kieran has a mole on his scalp right where his part is (this is canon btw i saw it once when i was studying him in photo mode like a specimen in a petri dish), and javier has back dimples, and kieran’s ribs stutter and dance beautifully when he laughs, and the flex of javier’s thighs warps his skin like a marble statue. javier escuella and kieran duffy love like artists, and they spend hours just learning and looking and studying each other, like a painter with his muse, like a writer with his words, like the last things they want to see while they’re dying are all the hours they spent learning the beauty of the other.

i could honestly come up with more but it would never leave my drafts, so i hope u like these that i came up with as quick as i could :’) ! i hope you’re feeling better and have gotten some good rest !! thank you for the ask !!!!!

[s2pdoktopus]

A comic thingy of @wallatile-qvibbler's "Fall for a Shooting Star" for what feels like three of us SakaTaka enjoyers <3

[dontvap0rdawave]

I really love your pink and blue comic

(just finished watched poketom dubbed it)

But I have a question a few questions

Is the comic going to continue?

When is the next chapter/pages

Love your artwork keep up

First off, thanks for enjoying it! Poketom did a great job dubbing it (specially as time went on) and, as I've said previous times, you should support and be nice to him, he's a genuinely nice guy!

Second, and something I need to leave clear on here too (not just my DA), the comic is on hold for now as I:

1- Manage my college time, and soon enough my working time as well, not only because I am having more responsabilities and not a lot of free time now, nut because I also am starting to care for the story 15 yo me was trying to write as I am now properly scripting pages, revamping character redesigns, and all of that. And

2- Have been getting so overwhelmed by people asking me to continue it almost every. single. day, that I´ve honestly just decided to focus on new proyects that come up and giving this one a rest for now. That and I also want to be recognized as more than "That cringy OC JSaB comic" woman and not be harassed by it (fair, it's not as bad as before, but it's still tiring considering everything going around in my life/country).

[ramagerslatteart]

i hate gen 9 raagh. anyway the teal mask was fun have my new sillies

[mortellanarts]

2023 go bye bye

[plantenjoyer]

I SWEAR I KEEP TRYING TO DO ART BUT THEN SOMETHING GETS IN THE WAY AND THEN I PROCRASTINATE AND THEN SIX MONTHS PASS

[cheapshrimpysheep]

True Feelings Chocolate - OB Students

SUMMARY: It is normal on Valentine's Day for friends or schoolmates to exchange chocolates with each other. However, the quality of the chocolate reveals how the person really sees you. And homemade chocolate is the greatest message of love that someone can receive on this day.

CHARACTERS: Overblot Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia) x Yuu (Reader)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.280 words per character.

COMMENTS: The number of words varies depending on how much the character is the type to hide his true feelings.

I also would like to be able to write more eloquent lines for characters like Malleus, but as English is not my first language this becomes a bit difficult sometimes.

I hope you enjoy and Happy Valentine's Day 💝

True Feelings Chocolate - Freshmen (Ace Trappola / Deuce Spade / Jack Howl / Epel Felmier / Sebek Zigvolt) x Yuu (Reader)

REAL WORLD CONTEXT: You may already know this, but Valentine's Day in Japan is different than in Western countries. In Japan (from what I know and have researched) this day is not exclusively related to romantic love but also to friendship or simple connections between schoolmates or work colleagues.

Just like in the West, it is marked by the gifting of chocolate, but the quality of the chocolate differs: If it's a boss or colleague you're not friends with, they're usually cheaper, more common chocolates. The quality and even price of the chocolate increases according to the relationship with the person to whom it is offered. And a chocolate made by the person themselves is the most valuable of all and is usually, from what I understand, almost like a confession of love.

On Valentine's Day, it is women who offer chocolates to men, but in this case I just kept the logic of chocolates and excluded the gender thing.

Another thing is that since it is normal to give chocolates to friends as well, it becomes more discreet to give more special chocolates to a certain person and it doesn't draw attention to simply give chocolate to someone.

NOTE: Thaumarks would be the equivalent of US dollars.

The rules are clear: the quality of the chocolate represents the quality and importance of the relationship between the giver and the person to whom it is given. And a chocolate made by the giver is the most valuable of all. Which meant he could buy chocolates for his schoolmates, but not for you!

According to the rules and analyzing what he felt for you, your chocolate MUST be made by him and it had to be perfect! Or as close to perfection as he could get.

He has no shame, nor does he think twice before asking Trey for help. He had that smile of someone who wants to mess with him a little the entire time, but knows that wouldn't be a good idea... Okay, maybe just a little comment to see how he would react.

“So... homemade chocolate for (Y/N).” He said as they waited for the chocolate to melt and Riddle prepared the molds.

Riddle continued with what he was doing, but he had blushed a little.

“Those are the rules.” he replies. "The quality of the chocolate should represent how the giver sees the person to whom it is given.”

“I know. I just never thought I'd see you making this kind of chocolate so soon.”

Riddle did not respond, probably because he thought the same thing.

What Riddle didn't know, because it was supposed to be a surprise too, was that you were also making chocolates for him. You made chocolate dipped strawberries. Knowing that Strawberry Tarts are his favorite food, this seemed like the best choice for Valentine's Day chocolates. Once they were ready, you placed them in a red box that you had bought at Sam's Mystery Shop and finished by tying the box with a bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you are preparing the boxes of chocolates to give to the Heartslabyul boys when there is a knock on your door. You open it and find Riddle with his hands behind his back.

“Good morning, (Y/N). I believe you know what day it is today.”

You confirm and say that you were just preparing the chocolates to take to his dorm.

“Oh, that's a coincidence. Because I came here to offer you mine too.” He takes his hand from behind his back revealing a beautiful heart-shaped box with golden designs. “And...” in the other, a small bouquet of roses. He's blushing just a little bit

You take the box and the bouquet, and Riddle smiles when he sees your reaction. But before you open it, you remember and go to the bag where your chocolates were and take out his box and offer it to him. He wasn't surprised that you gave him chocolates, but he was a little when he saw that the box wasn't from any brand. You also take the opportunity to place the roses on the entrance table so you can open the box.

When you take the lid off you see several heart shaped chocolates with your favorite toppings, however, some of the hearts were a little bit crooked and some of the designs on the hearts seemed to have gone slightly wrong. You ask if he made them, unable to contain a small chuckle.

“Y-yes.” he sulks a little seeing you laugh. “I picked the ones that looked best... the first ones burned.”

You taste one of them and feel your favorite filling on your tongue. You say it's very good and Riddle can't contain that sweet smile of his.

“Truly? I... I am so glad!”

And then he remembers the box you gave him. He opens it and sees the chocolate covered strawberries. You say that since he liked strawberry tart so much you thought he would like them. He looks at the strawberries with a sparkle in his eyes, picks one up and tastes it before giving you a cute smile again.

“It's incredible how something so simple can taste so good.” he tells you “So... were they made by you too?” You confirm, but then he asks: “You... did you also make chocolates for the others?” he seemed ashamed to ask that.

You say no, that those were the only ones you made, all the others were bought.

“Really?!” he says smiling, but then immediately clears his throat to assume his usual posture again.

However, he realized what it means, that you felt the same way about him as he felt about you, and it made him chuckle. He holds your free hand, while the other still holds the box of chocolates, gets closer to you and kisses your cheek gently.

“You said you were preparing to go to Heartslabyul.” He tells you with a tender look, as if he can finally look at you the way he wants and you deserve. “Allow me to escort you there then. And I insist on helping you carry the boxes.”

He will take you to Heartslabyul with your arm intertwined with his like a gentleman, while his other arm carries the bag with the chocolates that you will offer to your friends.

Ace and Deuce will argue and compete because they both bought you the exact same box of chocolates that were your favorite. Cater bought you the cutest chocolates he could find and wanted to take a picture of the two boxes together, the one you gave him and the one he gave you. Trey says he wished he had made the chocolates himself but, you know, rules and possible misunderstandings to be avoided, so he ended up buying some chocolates that he also liked as a sort of sharing of favorites.

Regardless of whether you would get chocolates back or not, you bought chocolates for Jack and Ruggie, and you wanted to follow the "rules" and make the chocolates for Leona yourself. But what chocolate would he like? He loves meat, but this doesn't help much. Or maybe it does... you search on the internet for chocolates for meat lovers and see what you can find.

But you didn't find anything, or at least nothing that didn't also involve wine. However, you noticed that dark chocolate was the most used, if not the only one, so you decided to use it and make the famous, perhaps even cliché, heart-shaped chocolates. Once they're done, you put them in the yellow box you bought at the Mystery Shop.

On Valentine's Day, you prepare everything to go deliver the chocolates to Savanaclaw.

Of course Jack also bought you chocolates, your favorite ones by the way. He struggled to keep his tail still when he saw how happy you were and the chocolates you gave him.

Ruggie seemed... struggling to give you the chocolates he had bought for you. He would have liked to have bought the cheaper chocolate, but he didn't want to give you a chocolate that meant you were nothing to him. So he had to spend a little more money and that was what was hurting him. However, his pain was eased by your chocolates.

Leona wasn't with them, so he could only be in his room. You go there and knock on the door.

“What?” You hear Leona's voice on the other side.

You open the door and enter his room. It's no surprise to see him lying in bed as if he had just woken up from a nap. He looks at you with his hands behind his head and smirks.

“Oh, yeah, did you come here to deliver your friendship sweets?” he says mockingly.

“Actually, yes.” you answer, walk towards him and stretch out your arm, handing him the yellow box. “This one is for you.”

He glances sideways at the box for a second, but then lifts his torso and sits up on the bed. He picks up the box and opens it to find dark chocolate hearts. You tell him that you tried to find some kind of recipe with meat but didn't find much. However it seemed like dark chocolate was the best one to pair with meat so that's why you chose it.

“So, you're saying that you did these little things?” Leona picks up one of the chocolates with a smug grin on his face. “Let's see how you did then. I must remind you that my palate is quite delicate.” He takes a bite and seems to enjoy the chocolate, but doesn't say anything.

Instead, he puts the box on the bed, gets up and seems to walk away from you. But then you notice that he's walking over to a chair in the corner of the room covered in clothes. He lazily removes one of the pieces of clothing from the seat and reaches for the white box that was hidden underneath. He comes back and hands you the box.

“Good enough. Here's your prize.”

You take the box and look at it. It’s white with gold details, texture and embossing. It's also relatively heavy for a box of chocolate, and thick. You don't even recognize that brand. Leona laugh at your reaction.

“You've definitely never seen one of these.”

You can't open the box with only one hand, you had to put it on Leona's bed to be able to open it with both hands. He complained like you expected him to, but then he just sat there watching you open the box and see what was inside, while eating more of your chocolates like they were snacks.

You open it, and inside the white box there is a wooden box. You remove the wooden box and see another wooden thing, like a square plate, with a kind of small wooden tongs. Leona is amused by your reaction. You took this out of the white box too, underneath is a booklet, and underneath that, there's a brochure. And after that there finally seems to be nothing left to take out.

“If you're wondering which one is the chocolate, it's the wooden box.” He points to the first thing you took out of the box and take another chocolate of yours to eat.

You pick up the wooden box with a little golden square on the lid and opens it. You pick up a large square wrapped in gold paper. At the bottom of the box, in a smaller diamond-shaped hole with a single cocoa bean.

“That is chocolate.” Leona casually pointed to the large square wrapped in gold paper.

You decide to see what that wooden thing with the tongs was before that. You pick it up, take the tongs off the top and remove the paper it was holding, revealing a gold square with engravings and what looks like a wooden frame around it. You read the title on the sheet of paper: “Testing utensil and plate.” And realizes that these are basically instructions on how to taste the chocolate using tongs and putting it on the golden plate.

You finally decide to search for those chocolates on the internet and you only had to type the name of the brand to see that the first result was: ‘The most expensive chocolate in Twisted Wonderland’. You found that same box and discovered that it cost almost 500 thaumarks. Leona just laughs at your shocked face.

Before you could say anything, maybe even say that you couldn't accept a chocolate like that, Leona takes the golden square and unwraps it, revealing the chocolate, which by the color seems to be your favorite. He breaks one of the triangles that formed the square and places it in front of your lips.

“Go on.” He smirks. “Open your mouth and say what you wanted to say.”

You open your mouth, but instead of talking you take a bite of the chocolate, as he wanted you to do. And it's incredible! He puts the rest of that piece of chocolate on top of the golden plate.

Knowing that the handmade chocolates were an “I love you” message, Leona felt completely confident in doing what he did next. As you were standing, he also stood up, put one of his hands on your waist and pulled you against him to kiss you.

You already kind of knew that it was possible to receive some kind of chocolate from Azul. This tradition can also be seen as a way of strengthening ties or showing respect for colleagues. He would not miss the opportunity to be “generous” to certain people whom he may or may not have selected as people of interest.

But no matter what kind of chocolate he would give you, you wanted to follow the rules and make yourself his chocolate.

You weren't sure which type of chocolate he would like best, so you decided to make a few of each, some dark chocolate, some milk chocolate, and some white chocolate. ‘By chance’, Sam had some molds for sale that you could use to make chocolates in sea-themed shapes like shells, seahorses, starfish, crabs, etc. One of the molds was even of a cute little octopus. You also bought a beautiful lavender box to put the chocolates in.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you were preparing the chocolates to give to the Octavinelle boys when someone knocked on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Azul greets you with his charming smile and his hands behind his back. “Were you getting ready to go out? I hope I'm not taking up too much of your time. I'm sure you have a lot of chocolates to deliver today, knowing how many acquaintances you've made at this school. But let me be the first to present you.” He takes his hands from behind his back revealing a beautiful lavender box with the Mostro Lounge logo in silver.

He must have prepared several boxes of that for his... acquaintances (clients) as well. But you accept the box anyway and take the opportunity to give him yours. Azul doesn't seem too surprised that you give him chocolates too, but he is when he sees that there is no brand on the box. You open your boxes at the same time to see... the same chocolates, the exact same shapes.

“Have you also-” You two start saying at the same time and then stop when you realize you're talking over each other.

“The molds in Sam's mystery shop.” Azul continued with a sweet tone. “You bought them too. So... that means...”

“These chocolates.” You say. “Were they made by you?”

“Yes, they were!” He smiles proudly. “Please, go ahead to taste them. Tell me what you think.”

You can see he used your favorite type of chocolate. You pick up one of the chocolates, take a bite and discover that it has your favorite filling. He can see that you loved it by your face, but he wants to hear your words and you only increase his pride with them.

You then ask him to try your chocolates. You confess that you didn't really know which one would be his favorite so you made some of each type. This makes him chuckle.

“Don't worry, they all look delicious. Let's see if the same applies to the taste, shall we?” He smirks before taking one of the chocolates to his mouth and biting into it.

He looked surprisingly intrigued and you didn't know what that meant. So you ask him if there's something wrong with the chocolates.

“No, that's not it. Your chocolates are very simple, without any special filling or anything that improves the original flavor of the ready-made chocolate. So why...? Why does it taste so good if it's nothing special? Did you use something that my taste buds aren't detecting?”

It was wierd, Azul almost seemed insulted, like you were tricking him somehow. Or like he wanted to figure out the logical explanation for that flavor. You say you only followed a recipe and seeing that he seemed dissatisfied with this explanation you say that people say that something made with love tastes better.

“Don't be ridiculous." He says despite starting to blush a little. “Feelings do not change a well-made recipe or a cook's skills. It might make them lazier and less willing to do things properly." he says, clearly thinking of a certain someone. "But it doesn't suddenly make someone an extraordinary cook. That's not how it works. It doesn't make sense."

And then his subtle indignation gives way to a quite seductive smile.

“Maybe I should see how you do them to find out your secret. And in return, I can teach you how to make the fillings and stuff them. What do you think? Cooking together and teaching each other.” He gets closer to you and tilts your head with a gentle finger on your chin. “Doesn't that sound like a good deal, my dear?”

After this you tell him that you were preparing to go to Octavinelle to offer him, Jade and Floyd the chocolates. There was still the boxes to be delivered to the twins.

“Oh, I wonder what you got for them.”

You say that for Jade you found some mushroom-shaped chocolates and for Floyd you bought some that said they all had different flavors but didn't say which ones, you realized that it was one of those sweets that you only find out if you were lucky or not with the flavor after tasting it.

Azul's mood seemed to improve when you said you had bought the chocolates and not made them. He also highlighted your excellent ability to choose gifts and added that you could be an excellent... business colleague. He liked the idea of a special personal assistant. He will accompany you to Octavinelle and insist on carrying him your gifts.

Jade loved the chocolates you chose for him, although it's hard to be sure even with all those smooth talking praises. For you, he asked his parents to send him some special Coral Sea chocolates. Azul asks you to examine that box and doesn't even hide his distrust towards Jade, who appears theatrically sad. He recognizes those chocolates with the box still sealed and knows that there is nothing wrong with those, so he returns them to you with more peace of mind.

Floyd was a little put off at first because the chocolates looked boring, but he soon became interested when you told him about the surprise flavors. He tried one that he said tasted like octopus and started laughing with great amusement. For you he bought shrimp-shaped chocolates and commented something about finding it funny to see it as a kind of cannibalism.

Kalim would definitely give you chocolates, but you had no way of knowing if Jamil would do the same. You already know how reluctant he is to call someone a friend, let alone give someone chocolates, that is not out of pure politeness, on a day like Valentine's. But either way you wanted to follow the rules and offer him chocolates made by you.

You weren't sure which type of chocolate he would like best, so you decided to make a few of each, some dark chocolate, some milk chocolate, and some white chocolate. But you didn't want to make just boring chocolate hearts. However, you didn't know if there was any filling he liked with the chocolates, so at Sam's Mystery Shop you try to find at least pretty molds. And you found heart molds with beautiful line art. That, and a pretty dark red box with a golden bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you were preparing the boxes of chocolates to take to the Scarabia boys, but they were faster than you.

“GOOD MORNING (Y/N)!” Kalim greets you enthusiastically when you open the door after hearing the knock on it. “Happy Valentine's Day!” He stretches out his arms with a huge smile and a huge basket of chocolates. It even had a heart-shaped balloon tied to it.

You need both hands to pick up the basket. You try to tell him that he didn't need to offer you so much, in fact he didn't need to offer you anything, but all that...

“Don't worry. I love giving gifts to my friends! And it's okay if you can't eat them all before the expiration date, I'm sure Grim can help you with that. There's enough for both of you in there. Hahaha.”

“Or at least we hope it's enough for both of you.” Jamil comments behind him. “Be careful Grim doesn't steal them all from you. And I'm sure Kalim would love to spend a little more time with you, but he has to go deliver the rest chocolates.” He frowns wearily and helplessly.

You can only imagine how many chocolates someone who treats practically everyone as a friend has to give away. But you ask them to wait just one more minute. You put the basket on the table in the hallway, take the one of the chocolate boxes you were preparing to take with you and hand it to Kalim.

Just like the chocolates he gave you, yours were also bought, except the brand you bought was much cheaper. But none of that mattered to Kalim, he was thrilled just because you gave him chocolate at all. But then he remembers and looks back at Jamil.

“We’ll open them in the dorm.” Jamil says. “I'll just try one and you can eat the rest. I know (Y/N) is trustworthy.”

Kalim celebrates and thanks him for allowing him to eat the chocolates. You wait for them to turn their backs to call Jamil in a whisper that you knew he would hear and Kalim wouldn't. He turns as Kalim walks to the gate and you hand him the dark red box with the golden bow. He looks at the box in surprise, glances at Kalim and thought quickly. He takes the box and says: “I'll text you.” before he turns and walks towards Kalim with your box in his hands.

If you had given him that box while Kalim was looking, he would have been super curious and happy for Jamil, maybe even started saying that he should offer you a box too and ask about it. And you knew how much Jamil liked to be discreet and not draw Kalim's attention to his affairs.

You had time to go to all the other dorms and deliver your friendship chocolates before he sent you the messages:

“I'm sorry I didn't thank you for the chocolates when you gave them to me. We only just finished delivering Kalim's chocolates, and he went to the Pop Music Club. I wanted to ask you if there would be a possibility of you passing through Scarabia today? I would like to thank you properly.”

You say you can and he asks if it can be in an hour. You don't ask him why, even though you're asking that to yourself, but you say yes and the meeting is set.

At the agreed time you go to Scarabia and you don't even need to tell Jamil that you have arrived, he is already at the doors of the main building waiting for you. And as if that wasn't enough of a surprise, when you approach him he holds out his hand for you to place yours on top and he kisses the back of your hand. He has a charmingly confident smile on his face. He leads you like a gentleman through the dorm hallways.

“I apologize again for being so curt with you when you gave me the box.” He says as you walk with one of your arms intertwined with his. “You truly caught me off guard. I wanted to thank you at that moment, but I was so much more focused on being quick so that Kalim wouldn't... you know... intrude.” That was the least rude way of saying what he really wanted to say.

You ask him what happened after you gave him the chocolates. The box wasn't small, he wouldn't have been able to hide it from Kalim.

“What I expected.” he sighed. “Kalim started making questions right away. But don't worry, you made the right decision by handing me the box when he wasn't looking. I hope he didn't bother you about it though.”

No, Kalim didn't text or call you after that. Jamil discreetly whispered a "excellent" with a somewhat sinister smile. You ask him if he liked the chocolates and tell him that, since you didn't know which was his favorite chocolate, you decided to use them all. He gives you a slight smile.

“I can appreciate them all. When they're done well.” he smirked. “The shape was nice, probably because of the molds you used. The taste... was good enough.”

You look at him a little sadly, or maybe a little sullenly. He laughs.

“They were good.” he says more gently. “But I think you can do better.” The smug smile returns. “Maybe if I teach you a few things? Or if we cook together? I wouldn't mind that. I bet it would be... interesting to be your tutor.” He seems to like the idea, probably because of the hierarchy you would have (in addition to the one you already have).

You arrive at his room and he invites you to come in and sit on his bed.

“My roommate is also at a club meeting.” He explains, as he picks up a box, that didn't look like anything special, from his desk. “Here.” he gives you the box and sits next to you. “I thought about making you chocolates too.” He can't look you in the eyes and tries to hide the blush that was starting to appear on his cheeks. “But... I didn't want to give them to you without knowing... I made these when I got back to Scarabia, after Kalim had gone to the club meeting.” he points to the box on your lap. “I didn't have much time to get a nicer box, sorry.”

You open the box to find several heart-shaped chocolates made with your favorite type of chocolate. But the ones in the middle had letters that, the way they were arranged, formed the phrase “I love you too”.

“You bought the ones you gave to Kalim.” Jamil says, still reluctant to look you in the eyes. “And made the ones you gave me. That's what it means, isn't it? ...Try it.”

You do so and take one of the chocolate hearts, bite into it and discover that it has your favorite filling. As you expected, the flavor is divine and you say this to Jamil when he asks you what you thought of them.

“I haven't tried them yet after they're done. Can I steal one from you?”

You say yes, but instead of his hand going towards the box, it goes towards your face, holds your chin to turn your head towards him and he kisses you.

You knew you were screwed. Vil is demanding about everything and anything. But you also know he can still appreciate someone’s effort and dedication. Even if your chocolates don’t turn out perfectly, which is most likely the case, you know he’ll still be happy with your hard work and thoughtfulness.

Your real problems lie elsewhere: nutrition and healthy ingredients. Your best bet was dark chocolate, it’s the healthiest of all. But you couldn't just make boring plain chocolates, and making them in the shape of a heart wasn't enough. You search for healthy chocolate recipes for Valentine's Day and you find a recipe for dark chocolate with fruits and nuts.

It was a lot of work to remove the seeds from the kumquats, chop the almonds, dry the cherries and do everything as the recipe said, but eventually your heart-shaped chocolates with fruits and nuts were ready on time. You just had to buy the prettiest purple box you could find at Sam's Mystery Shop and a good red bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you took your chocolates to Pomefiore to deliver them.

Rook would be happy with any type of chocolate you give him. The simple fact that you give him a box or even just a bag on such a special day makes him beam with joy. And of course he also bought you a box of chocolates, your favorites, by the way. (Regardless of whether you told him which ones they were or not)

The best chocolates you can give Epel are the ones you know he likes but that Vil wouldn't let him eat. Even if Vil found out, it would be rude not to accept such a kind gift, so according to etiquette he would have to accept your gift. The two of you smile mischievously at each other. And yes, of course he also bought you chocolates. He asked his family to send special chocolates typical of Harveston just for you.

All that was left was to deliver the last box to Vil, but before you turned around to go to his room to see if he was there, he was kind enough to appear in the lounge at that moment. The way he walked towards you with his eyes fixed on you and that beautiful discreet smile made you feel like the most special person in the room.

You say he arrived just in time because you were about to go look for him, and you give him the pretty purple box with a red bow. He smiles in satisfaction and pick up the box.

“Well, I can't say I'm surprised to receive another box of chocolates today. And I see that this box is not of any brand. May I then assume that they were made by you?” His smile softens even more when you confirm, but even so he doesn't miss the opportunity to add a little smugness to it. “Well, let's see how you did then?”

Vil opens the box and is actually surprised by what he sees inside. He picks up one of the chocolate hearts and examines it.

“Dark chocolate.” He says in an approving tone. “I see almonds, dried cherries and... are those candied kumquats?” The fruits were what surprised him the most and he looks at you in such a neutrally curious way that you don't know whether he approved of those chocolates or not.

You tell him that you know how much he values his good nutrition, so you tried to find the healthiest Valentine's chocolate recipe, and that was the recipe you chose. You add that you followed the recipe to the letter as if defending yourself in case he doesn't like it, but at that moment you see his shoulders relax, the smile return and his eyes look at you with affection.

“You aren’t the first one to give me handmade chocolates.” he starts saying and looks at your chocolates in his hands. “But you are the first one who knows me well enough to know what I would actually like to receive. Except for Rook, but he's a strange exception. All the other boxes that arrived were of the sweetest and most caloric chocolates imaginable. I understand and appreciate the gesture but...” He looks back at you and gives you a small smile. “They don't really know me, do they?”

He takes a bite of your chocolate and looks serious about tasting it for seconds that feel like minutes to you. You ask how they are and if they taste good, he looks at you seriously and then starts laughing when he sees your worried face.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to mess with you a little. I would like to say that these chocolates are quite good, but to do so I have to add that they are, for the skills of someone who is not a professional cook. I don't think I've ever tried this kind of sweets before. Could you give me the recipe?” and even eats the rest of the chocolate he has in his hand, with an expression of clear delight.

Your instinct tells you that something is going on behind you. You look over and see Epel slightly uncomfortable with the way Rook is looking at you and Vil as if he was watching the most wonderful and touching romantic play in the history of theater. He doesn't say a word as if a single syllable could ruin the moment, and he looks like he wants to burst into tears with emotion.

You feel a gentle hand on the small of your back, you turn your head again and see that it is Vil pulling you slightly to invite you to go with him.

“I can imagine the work it took you to remove the seeds from these kumquats and candied them. Such thoughtfulness and well done hard work deserves a proper reward. Don't you think?”

His gaze alternates between looking at you sweetly and looking at Rook in a subtly threatening way, as if warning him not to snoop around. The same look could be given to any other student who looked at you with the same nosy curiosity.

Vil invites you to go with him to a place, you follow him and you arrive at the door of his room. He looks haughtily at the corridor and sees that no one followed you, or if they did they would be left behind in that same corridor. He invites you in, saying that he also has something for you. After he closes the door behind him, he goes to his desk and picks up a small, beautiful, heart-shaped golden box to give you.

“Seeing me enjoying your chocolates was a spectacle and proof enough of your value to the public.” he says referring to the other Pomefiore students who were in the lounge. “They don't deserve to witness more.”

He makes a gesture encouraging you to open the box and you do so. There were few chocolates, at least compared to the ones you gave him, but not only were they beautifully decorated, they were also made from your favorite type of chocolate. Even if your favorite is the least healthy of all. You look at him in surprise.

“Don't get used to it.” he warns you, raising a finger. “I did less on purpose so as not to be so detrimental to your nutrition.” he pokes your nose gently “This is a rare exception, you hear?”

Even though you know what his answer would be, you ask if he was the one who made them.

“Yes, they look astonishing professional, don't they?” He smiled with the greatest pride, before returning to his regular speech. “I also thought about preparing something nutritious, until I thought about what you would like to receive and not what I would like to give. If I did what I thought was best for you while neglecting your own tastes, it would not only be wrong but an insult. It would be the same as all those fans who offered me chocolates without knowing what I would like or even wanting to try. Those chocolates would convey the message that I like you but I want to mold you into the person I want you to be and that is both a lie and a blasphemy. I want to help you improve of course, but that doesn't mean I don't like who you are now. So I used your favorite chocolates and fillings regardless, but did it in small quantities. However, if you wake up tomorrow with a stomach ache because you ate them all, don't blame me, understood?”

If you hug him he will tell you to be careful so the chocolates don't fall out of the box, but he will hug you back, maybe just more delicately.

You taste one of the beautiful chocolates and they are delicious. The pride on Vil's face only increases when you tell him this. Catching you off guard, he gently holds your chin with his index finger and thumb and gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“This is my thank you for your gift.” he then puts his face right in front of yours, your noses almost touching “And this is my thank you for you.” and he kisses your lips.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Idia tells Ortho. “Me? Cook? For THEM? Do you want them to hate me for giving them food so poorly prepared that it could poison them? Should I check-up you? Your cause-and-effect conclusions seems to be miscalculating things.”

“I don’t detect any abnormality in my data processing.” Ortho guarantees him. “But that's what the rules of Valentine's Day tradition say. And I can even use quotes from your games and mangas to support my argument.”

“OI! Don't use those things against me, it's a low blow! Besides, like you said, those are games and mangas, or even movies, they're not real. Real life is not a fairy tale where you always conveniently fall in love with the right person who feels the same way about you. There is a much greater chance that you will fall in love with someone you don't deserve and end up preferring Prince Charming.”

“So what?”

“W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'SO WHAT'?”

“You don't need to declare yourself to them. You just have to offer them chocolates. If the feeling is not mutual, just leave it at that. But I'm sure that (Y/N) will offer you something. Especially knowing how much you like sweets.”

“Oh yeah, sure, it's so much better to receive a friendzone chocolate than nothing at all. It must be the new trend to replace the bucket of ice cream to eat by the spoonful while crying watching a romcom wrapped in a blanket in the middle of the dark.”

“Come on. You know (Y/N), they would appreciate anything you did simply because you tried. They are the type to appreciate the effort and intention more than the end result. I've heard them tell how happy they were with a mere postcard from Malleus Draconia during the winter break.”

“That’s because he's The Malleus Draconia. Anything coming from someone like him is spectacular. Even a curse would be a source of pride for someone to receive simply because he acknowledged their existence.”

While Ortho was trying to convince Idia to At Least Try to make some kind of chocolate for you, you were looking for molds for your chocolates at Sam's Mystery Shop.

And ‘coincidence of coincidences’ Sam had in stock molds in the shape of items from a mobile game that Idea loves. Funny enough, they were also sweets, items for the cards if you're not mistaken. But the problem arose when you saw the price: 130 thaumarks. Sam approached you when he saw your certainty in wanting to buy that item turn into doubt and consideration.

You told him you wanted to buy that, but it was too expensive for your tight budget. So, knowing that you're a trustworthy little imp, he lets you pay what you can for it and work a day or two at the store until you can pay the rest. But he wouldn't need you anytime soon, he'll tell you when he does. You accept the deal and get the molds in addition to the ingredients and the bright blue box with a black bow.

Knowing that he loves sweets, you decide to use white chocolate and milk chocolate. And you made a lot of them, enough to fill the box almost to its limit.

Meanwhile, the only way Ortho found to convince Idia to get you chocolates was by suggesting that he make some and buy others and wait to see if you would give him chocolates and what kind. If you gave him friendship chocolates, he would give you the box he bought; if you gave him chocolates you made yourself (as if), he would give you the ones he made... and the ones he bought too. “I'm terrible at cooking. It's better to play it safe if they come out inedible.”

The next day, Valentine's Day, you take your gifts to go to Ignihyde to deliver them to the Shroud brothers.

You give Ortho a cute heart-shaped power back. You tell him that you would like to give him chocolates too, but since he doesn't eat you try to find something equivalent. And even if it's not a very good charger, it's still a cute decoration. Ortho completely agrees with you and is very happy that you put so much thought into his gift. He gives you chocolate in return, a box of your favorites.

Idia is nowhere to be seen, but Ortho knows you know where to find him. You go to his bedroom door and knock on it. The door opens for you. As you might expect, he is sitting in front of his computer. He pauses the game he was playing, takes off his headphones and turns his chair to look at you.

“Hey, um, you don't need to give me chocolates out of pity if that's the case. I don't need to get something just because my brother received a gift.”

You assure him that it's not out of pity, it's because you really wanted to give him those chocolates.

“I hope you didn't spend too much. I don't want you to regret it to much.”

"I may have spent a little more than I expected," you admit, handing him the box and placing it on his lap. "But I'll be keeping the molds.”

“Molds?! You didn't actually...” He stops to first check if what he thought you had done was true.

He opens the box and it takes him a few seconds to analyze those shapes well. You are startled to see him jump out of his chair.

“THESE ARE GROOVY SWEETS! Where did you found them? Wait! You said you found molds? I didn't even know there were molds to make them! How much did it cost? This game is quite niche, it must not have been easy to find. Or cheap.”

You say finding them was easy because you simply saw them in Sam's Mystery Shop and recognized the shapes and the game logo. Idia asks you about the price again and you try to change the subject until he says that if you don't tell him he'll look it up online. And you finally tell him the price.

“And isn't that a little tight for you?” He doesn't seem the least bit surprised by the price. “I mean, the money you have comes from the headmage as far as I know, right? And I don't think he gives you much more than the bare minimum.”

You tell him about the deal with Sam.

“WHAT?! Oh, No! You won't get into debt because of me!” He says determined “I'll send Sam all the money you spent and what's left to pay for the molds. And if you don't tell me how much it was, I'll just send him, like, I don't know, a 500 thaumarks or something and you can buy whatever you want with what's left.”

You say he doesn't need to exaggerate so much, you could even accept him paying for the molds for you, but the rest was ridiculous.

“Hey, I may not be a prince but my family is still quite wealthy, you know.” he says with a smug, which then turns into his cute smile. “You must have had so much work making them, let me at least help with the expenses.” the smug returns “You know I'm going to send him the money no matter what you say right?”

You sigh a ‘Fine’ and ask if he could finally taste the chocolates. He takes one of the white chocolates and bites it. You even say that you thought about putting something else in them, but you didn't know what, however it seems that this wasn’t necessary. He was eating the chocolate with such a cute smile, and the ends of his hair started to turn a slightly pink.

“Did you try them after they were done?” he asks.

You say you ate the first one you made to taste test it, but not the ones you gave him. He takes another one and brings it to your lips for you to eat. You open your mouth and grab the chocolate, it was good, but what you liked most was the fact that he fed it to you. After this episode of confidence, he becomes embarrassed again.

“I... um...” he then proceeds to speak in the speed of light. “Ortho made me make chocolates for you because it was like the rules of tradition or whatever but you don't need to eat them they definitely suck. B-b-but I bought better ones for you.” he picks up a relatively large box and returns to speaking at a more intelligible speed. “I bought the biggest box of your favorite chocolates they've ever sold.”

You accept the box, but still ask what he said about making chocolates for you.

“What? How can you still understand what I say at that speed? Don't tell me you're one of those people who puts a video on x2 speed or something.” You look at him disapprovingly, showing that you know he's trying to change the subject again. He sighs. “Listen, I know the rules are that when you... really... like... someone you should make the chocolates yourself, just like... you... did. But what does it matter how or who does them, what matters is whether they taste good or not, right? It all ends in the same place anyway.”

“So... these chocolates,” you point to the box you gave him “or any others would be the same to you?”

“Wait! No! That's not what I meant! T-t-the ones you made n-needed to be made, t-they can't be bought.”

“So, would you prefer if I had bought them? Surely they would be better made by a professional, right?”

“N-n-no! You are distorting what I... No, actually, that's exactly what I said... B-b-but that does NOT apply here, not to you, I just... I SUCK AT COOKING, OKAY!? I didn't want to give you something ugly, poorly made and with horrible taste. But fine! If that's what you want!” He goes to the closet and takes out a pink heart-shaped box to give it to you. “You can have it. Don't say I didn't try to warn you.”

You pick up the box and open it to find cute hearts made with your favorite type of chocolate with sprinkles on top. They didn't look bad, they even looked well made. You pick one up and taste it, and it tastes good to you. You actually liked it and tell him that.

“Y-you actually enjoyed that amateurish attempt at cooking? You feeling okay? Are your taste buds buggy? You don't need to say that just to be nice, you know?”

You assure him that you're not just being nice, that you really liked it. Of course they could be better, just like yours could be too. Maybe you should try doing them together sometime?

“First Ortho makes me cook and now you? Do you really like me or just like to see me suffer?”

He insists that you keep the ones he bought too because they were for you anyway. If you give him a kiss on the cheek to thank him he will get all flustered and the ends of his hair will turn bright pink.

You knew very well what kind of chocolates you wanted to make for Malleus: ice cream! But you didn't want to offer him a bowl of ice cream, so you search the internet to see if there was any type of Valentine's Day chocolate that involves ice cream and you find the ice cream bonbons, which are basically balls of ice cream, covered in chocolate.

The recipe you found was for vanilla and chocolate ice creams, which also seemed like the safest choices. You don't make a lot, but you can still make several of each type of chocolate and decorate them with white sprinkles on the dark and milk chocolate ones and rainbow sprinkles on the white chocolate ones.

Unfortunately, since they are cold sweets, you can't put them in a normal box, so you put them in a container and store them in the fridge.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you wonder how you're going to get those chocolates to Malleus. You don't want to ruin them and you're afraid it could take so long to find him that the chocolates will start to melt even if you use a container designed for cold food. At that moment, someone knocks on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Malleus greets you when you open the door. “Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you had a good night's sleep. I'm here to fulfill the tradition of offering chocolates to my loved ones.” He snaps his fingers and a beautiful black heart-shaped box with a translucent green bow appears floating.

Malleus takes the box and hands it to you with a slight but sincere smile. As you pick up the box and thank him, you remember that ever since you woke up you were almost certain to hear movement outside Ramshackle Dorm. And that's why you ask Malleus if he was there for a long time.

“I will not hide the fact that I arrived before you woke up, but it has not been that long. Only two or three hours perhaps?”

He tells you it's no problem, for him it's not that long, but you still invite him in since he's been out there for so long to you. The two of you sit on the lounge sofa and Malleus can't take his eyes off you, he's so eager for you to open the box. When you finally do, you find beautiful hearts of your favorite chocolate with detailed and delicate line art. Malleus was so happy with your reaction, especially if you say you feel sorry for eating them because they are so beautiful.

“Im glad you enjoyed the presentation so much.” he says with an amused smile. “But please do not let that stop you from consuming them. Unfortunately, their edibility is ephemeral, so don’t let your desire to appreciate its exterior prevent you from savoring its interior and appreciating it in its entirety. Furthermore, I truly wish to know your opinion about my cooking.”

“You were the one who made them?” you ask.

“Yes, it was I.” he confirms with a proud smile. “That is why I'm rather looking forward to hearing your thoughts.”

You take one of the chocolate hearts and bite into it to taste your favorite filling too. It was delicious and Malleus couldn't have been happier about it. Then you remember your chocolates and get up to get them without telling him what you were going to do in the kitchen. You return with a modest-looking container for cold food in your hands and sit down next to him again.

You apologize for not having a box as pretty as the one he gave you and explain that you didn't know how you were going to get those chocolates to him since they had to be kept cold.

“There is no need to worry about that.” he reassures you with a loving smile. “I completely understand your dilemma. Fortunately, you needn't to think about that anymore for I am already here.”

He gladly accepts the container and opens it.

“They certainly look lovely” he says, smiling. “Am I right in concluding that your container dilemma indicates that you made them?” When he sees you confirm, his smile grows and becomes even more affectionate. “From the looks of it alone you seem to have done an excellent work. I'm looking forward to trying them.”

He carefully picks up one of the chocolates and bites into it, his eyes widen when he realized what the inside was.

“Ice cream...” he mutters to himself with a charming smile and then looks at you lovingly. “Is this why you had trouble figuring out a way to preserve them while transporting them? You focused so much on doing something to my liking that you ended up neglecting the logistical aspect.”

You confirm and he laughs heartily.

“I believe you are as aware of the rules of this tradition as I am.” his smile becomes seductive. “Chocolate made by one's hands should be a declaration of love, shall it not?” He takes your reaction as a confirmation.

He caresses your face before giving you a delicate, loving kiss on the cheek. You look at him and see his lime green eyes shining with the most love there could be.

After that he will offer to accompany you to Diasomnia so you can deliver your chocolates to the others. He will never leave your side again and will find any excuse to get so close to you that he will respectfully put his arm around your shoulder or waist.

Silver is too oblivious to realize what's happening between you and Malleus. As for the chocolates, he doesn't give you your favorites because he doesn't know which they were, but he gives you the ones he genuinely thought and hoped you would like. And even if they weren't your favorites, they were ones you really liked.

Lilia will have that smile every time he looks at you two and will try to mess with you a little. As for the chocolates, he said he would have liked to have made your chocolates himself but, you know, rules and misunderstandings to be avoided. (For a moment you shared Riddle's adoration for rules) So he offers you the most beautiful chocolates of your favorite type that he could find.

Sebek will enter into an internal conflict because he doesn't know whether to be jealous of you or happy for his liege. As for the chocolates, he doesn't give you anything too fancy, the chocolates even seem quite simple and basic, but “coincidentally” they are your favorite type and with your favorite filling too.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

*Sorry for the Cook Leona kinda bait, but let's be real, he would never even try to cook for anyone, not even himself, haha. Also, he is fully aware that he is terrible at cooking and he didn't want to give you poorly made chocolates when he could buy the best ones out there.

Did this get too long? Sorry 😣

[szatears]

inked all over, stack.

summary: stack comes back to you with a new surprise, one that you must say suits him a little too well.

pairing: modernau!stack x blackfem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, use of the n word, descriptions of reader.

notes: modernau!stack has finally arrived! ever since i made that post about smoke and stack w tattoos i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are! also switched up the pov to third person for this one. ignore any errors, did not proofread at all. smoke version coming soon :)

"Goddamn, you said how long?!" Stack's eyes widened as he leaned back in the tattoo chair, sat opposite his tattoo artist, Deuce.

"We're looking at 'bout six hours?" Deuce laughed seeing the expression on his client's face.

Stack was always at Deuce's parlour when he wanted a piece done on his body, he didn't trust anyone else to do it for him. Same with his brother. Today, he walked in wanting to get something he had on his mind for months.

"Six hours? Nigga, I'ma need you to cut it down to like, two and a half. My lady already pissed I ain't wake her up with a kiss this morning," he blew out a breath, thinking about the messages his wife had left him a few hours ago.

He'd been up since the early hours, and it was almost 4 o'clock now. He was only meant to be out running a few errands with Smoke and some by himself, but he just couldn't get the tattoo out of his mind.

Deuce laughed, nodding his head as he placed the drawing of what Stack wanted on his forearm. "This good for you?"

Stack looked down at the placement, a faint smile on his lips. He couldn't wait to see her reaction to this. "Yeah, it's good."

He knew how the process would go, he just hoped he'd be back home at a reasonable time to not get his ass chewed out. Mrs. Moore didn't play like that.

He made himself comfortable, his arm out on the extendable part of the bed to allow Deuce to do his work. Many Men by 50 Cent played through the speakers, and Stack pulled his phone out of his pockets before Deuce started tattooing.

He already had a few tattoos, but he still wasn't too used to the pain. Smoke on the other hand? Stack would say "you could tattoo that nigga's eyeball and he won't even flinch."

Stack had put a lot of thought into this piece. It would be the beginning of a sleeve he hoped to complete later on, but to him, this was the most important part of it. It had the typical designs of a sleeve ─── shaded clouds with the sun peeking through, cursive writing with some red for that pop. But it was what was written that held the most meaning to him.

With time, Stack came to realise that one of his wife's favourite ways of expressing her love to him was through words. It could be something simple, like telling him she was proud of him or that he was doing well with everything. Or it would be more, like a note in the morning before she left to go somewhere, or one of the many texts she sent him throughout the day.

One of these letters stuck with him the most. In it, she wrote about how he'd become such an important part of her life, the tie that held them together growing stronger each day. The exact words he was getting tattooed on his arm were "you're my favourite person and my forever person, i got you always," something she never failed to mention to him.

It was obvious how in love the two were. You rarely saw them without the other, and even if they were, it wouldn't take long for either to mention the other.

Along with the words, Stack added her lipstick print that she always signed her letters off with. He knew he'd be making a joke soon enough about how her lips were always gonna be on him now.

The rest of the piece had some other smaller yet intricate designs, he told Deuce he could freehand whatever, he trusted him like that.

-

Surprisingly, Deuce actually managed to cut his estimated time in half, finishing the tattoo almost three hours later. As Deuce finished taking pictures and wrapping Stack's arm, his phone rang, looking down at the caller id to see his wife's name with a heart next to it. He accepted the facetime, smiling at the mug on her face.

"Why are you smiling? You must like playing with your life..." she mumbled, fixing her hair in the camera frame.

"I can't be happy to see you no more?" He chuckled, watching her fight back a small smile. "You look good."

"I know," she leaned her face closer to her camera. "Where are you? Come home already."

"I'ma be home in a minute, mama, I'm at the shop with Deuce," Stack turned his camera to face the man who was tidying up his supplies as he held up a peace sign.

"Hey, Deuce. So you're the reason my man's out til these hours when he said he'd only be gone for two tops?" Her head tilted as Deuce laughed.

"It ain't my fault he picks the tricky designs."

"Design─── Baby, you got a new piece?" All of a sudden the frown on her face was wiped off, replaced with a smile.

"Yeah, I did. Look at you, smilin' over there," Stack laughed as he got up from the bed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a stack of 50s, handing it to Deuce.

Before he could even complain about being given too much money, Stack gave him a look. "You really gon' make me argue with my lady on the phone?"

"No, sir," Deuce smiled, putting the money away.

"Aight, til next time Deuce."

He grabbed his coat and left the shop, opening the door to his car that was parked right at the front. "You need me to bring anything, baby?" he looked down at his phone as he put on his seatbelt, seeing his wife already staring at him. The smile that graced his face was just his natural reaction to seeing her; he couldn't get enough of her,

"Could you get some more fruit from Mama Glo's corner? If she's still open."

"Yeah. You gon' stay on the phone?"

"No, I'm gonna take a shower real quick. But I'll see you soon, handsome. I love you," she kissed the camera.

"I love you too."

-

Stack came back with a brown paper bag containing the fruit his wife had asked for, closing the front door with his foot. He slipped his trainers off, walking to the kitchen and placing the fruit on the counter. When he didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming down to greet him, he tilted his head, making his way up the stairs.

He found her lying on their bed, dressed only in a bra and a small pair of shorts. She turned her head to the door when she heard the floorboards creak, a smile on her face as she set her phone down on the bedside table.

Stack smiled at her smile, his hands resting on her waist as she stood in front of him. His frame slightly towered over hers, his head dipping down a little to kiss her lips.

"Nice of you to come home, Elias," she hummed into the kiss.

"You know I could never be away from you for too long." His words were like music to her eyes as she used the hands that were around his neck to softly run her fingers over his skin.

"I got your fruit," he told her, tapping her hip twice so she'd let him go briefly, letting him take off his shirt. It was only when he took off the black muscle t-shirt that he wore, that she let her eyes run over the tattoos that adorned his chest and back before she remembered the reason he went out.

She let her eyes wander over him whilst he put his phone on charge, finally spotting the wrapped part of his right arm. Stack glanced at her, noticing how quiet she'd gotten. "You wanna see it?" he laughed at how eagerly she nodded in response to his question.

He stepped closer to her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she stood between his legs. He slowly took off the wrapping of the tattoo, much to his wife's impatience. When he finally revealed the finished work of art, the look on her face made his impulse decision ten times worth it.

He let her gently run her hands over the ink, waiting for to notice what made it even more special. He watched her face closely as her eyes flickered over his forearm, holding it with so much care. It wasn't until she turned his hand over so his palm was facing her, that she saw the writing.

"Elias..." she whispered, a pout on her face as she ran over the words and the copy of her lips.

"You like it?" he smiled at her, flashing his gold caps.

"Like it? Baby, I'm in love with it, oh my God," she couldn't tear her eyes off it. Throughout their relationship, Stack would always say something along the lines of "I'ma get your name tatted on my face," but this was far more meaningful.

"Good, 'cause it hurt like a bitch," he mumbled, pulling her into his lap. He kissed the side of her face as she held onto his arm. "I love you more than life itself."

"I love you endlessly," she took his face in both her hands, kissing him.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

He turned his head into the kiss, letting his lips leave hers to kiss down her neck to her collar. He flipped them over, bringing her to lay back down in the middle of the bed.

Her hands ran down his toned arms, massaging his broad shoulders. She let her fingers trace over the inked parts of his skin that she could reach, having memorised where every part was.

Stack used his knee to nudge her legs apart, letting him slot in between them as he kissed her. His tongue danced with hers whilst she held him closer to her face by the back of his neck. Her soft moans only encouraged him more, as did the growing friction her hips created against his.

"Yeah, you gon' have to come up outta these," he mumbled against her lips as his hands fumbled down to her shorts, pulling them down her legs.

"Elias..." she whispered, tugging at his belt. She was almost naked whilst he was still half clothed.

He smiled at her, pulling away from her lips to kiss a trail down to her pelvis. "Hold on, baby. I wanna make you feel good first." He kissed her clit over the lacy underwear she wore, and she shuddered, leaning back further into the pillows.

Stack used his thumb to rub her clothed clit, watching how her legs started to close around his hand. "Baby, please," she whined, and it didn't take long for him to give in to her pleas, taking off her underwear.

Just as quick as he had done that, his head lowered closer to her core, his mouth latching onto her creaming opening. His tongue licked up and down, his hand holding either side of her hips as he ate her out. She let out a loud moan, her hands gripping the back of his head.

"Fuck, baby, just like that," she breathed out, her eyes fluttering with pleasure.

"Yeah?" he mumbled against her, the vibrations just adding to the feeling.

Stack lapped at her for all she was worth, the unholy sounds emitting from her lips and his work. He used his thumb to rub her clit as he continued to work her away with his tongue. She writhed underneath him, feeling that familiar coil inside of her begin to surface.

"Why you moving away, huh? You can take it mama, I know you can," he assured her, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he briefly looked up at her. The sight alone almost made her cum right there; his mustache and goatee coated in her fluids.

She couldn't keep it in, especially when he went back to her with his tongue, his two fingers pumping in and out just as fast. "Shit, I'm gonna─── Oh, my God," her moans aligned with her release, all over his mouth.

Stack continued to eat her out through her high, her hips grinding into his face as he sought more. "Baby let up," she groaned, trying to push his face away.

"One more, baby. For me?" How could she say no when he was making feel that good?

It wasn't long before she came again, her body letting up as Stack cleaned her up. Only he could make her tap out like that.

He finally moved his head from between her legs, hovering over her as she grabbed his face, pulling him down for a messy kiss. She licked over his lips, moaning at the taste of her on him. His hand travelled to her throat, the same arm that was newly inked now right in front of her.

Stack's tattoos were such a turn on, it was almost impossible to describe. If he wanted to make her orgasm fast, all he had to do was talk her through it, or have her analyse his tattoos. Easy.

"You not tapping out on me, are you?" he smirked, as she gave him a lazy smile. She could feel his dick through his pants at her entrance. Shaking her head, she let go of him to take his belt off, eyes on him as she pulled him out of his boxers.

He briefly got up to take them off all the way, before he settled back between her legs, hiking them up his hips. She let her arms rest over his shoulders as he pushed in, both of them groaning.

He fit so perfectly with her, and he made her feel that way every time, through sex or not. The sound of skin slapping soon took over the room, as did their moans.

Stack ground his hips into hers, his head resting in the crook of her neck, leaving small love bites where he could.

"You're doing me so good, E," she whispered lowly in his ear which only spurred him on. He picked up his pace, finding that spot of hers that had her arching into him.

"Like that, baby? Hm?" he asked as she could only not in reply, too far into it to speak actual words. Stack fucked her so good, without fail every time.

He looked down at where they connected briefly, fascinated by her precious pussy taking him in so well. "You're doing so good for me, pretty." he told her, his eyes back on hers.

She managed to keep the contact for a few moments before he had her eyes rolling at the back of her head, her muscled walls clenching around his dick.

He grunted at that, feeling himself close to unravelling. But like he always did, he wanted her to come first.

"I'm almost there, E, keep going─── Yeahhhh, just like that," she moaned, whining even as she felt herself about to come for the third time. She held his head to her face as he kissed her, groaning as she reached closer and closer to her climax.

"Fuck!" she screamed as he cum coated his dick, spilling out as he fucked her through it.

"You got it baby, shit, I'm gonna cum too, hold on," his words trailed off to a whisper as he came in her, her eyes fluttering shut as she adjusted to the overbearing amount of pleasure only her man could give her.

Stack's thrusts slowed down as he pushed his seed back in her, a lazy smirk on her face as she watched him do so. He pulled out slowly, gently laying on top of her. She brought her legs around his waist, kissing his temple as they caught their breath.

"Damn," Stack sighed happily. "Might have to get my whole body tatted up now."

taglist. @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @favoritten

[jinx-xxed]

Silver Chains

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I’ve already watched Sinners 4 times and became obsessed so I fear it’s necessary for me to write a fic for Remmick at least once 🤕 this is my first time writing vampires and blood like this so please forgive me if it sucks 🙏 also if I’ve written anything in relation to the movie incorrectly please tell me so I can fix it! I have some other ideas brewing that I might write as well so I hope you enjoy :P!

Summary; A hunt gone awry leaves you caught by vampire hunters with the threat of the sun looming over you.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, vampire reader, vampirism, vampire hunters, blood and injury, death, feral behavior, you almost die, protective/possessive Remmick, very dependent relationship, bloodsucking, blood eating as kink, a lot of drool, he comes with it what can I say, feeding off Remmick, putting those claws and teeth to good use, eating out, fingering, piv sex, multiple orgasms, little bit of aftercare, soft Remmick

Wc; 7.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The stench of blood assaults your nose.

It’s not the tantalizing, mouth-watering scent of someone else’s, no, it’s your own. It smells all sorts of wrong, impure and old with decay only to a thing like you.

Your blood runs down your skin in rivulets, staining it a deep, shiny red. Droplets fling from your body as you thrash and jerk against the heavy, silver chains that bind you to a thick and sturdy tree. The pain of the bark digging into your back is nothing compared to the agony of the chains burning your flesh away, steam rising from your injuries like you’d been placed on burning coals. It makes you wild, desperate to get away but with nowhere to go.

There’s no chance of you escaping the chains that sit against your neck, arms, waist, and legs in sets of two, even despite your struggling and the way you try to launch yourself from the tree with the slight leeway you have with your feet. Your unnerving eyes gleam in the moonlight, wide and frantic with fear, your bloodstained, jagged teeth showing in your open mouth. You feel as far from human as you possibly could be, snarling like an animal and chained just like one too.

The men watching you seem to think the same thing.

There’s five of them, two sit on their horses while the other three steadily pace the small clearing they have you in. God damn vampire hunters, armed to the teeth with everything they need to kill the likes of you. Silver bullets, silver chains, garlic and holy water, wooden stakes on their belts. It’s like they’re surrounded by a bubble of protection that you can’t penetrate, that’ll hurt you if they get too close—which isn’t that far off.

You curse yourself over and over. You and Remmick made damn sure to stay away from Choctaw land and yet here you are, caught and beaten. This is a new type of hunter, one you’d never had the misfortune of coming across before. They hunt in the dead of night, they enjoy watching you thrash and suffer, and their methods are cruel, meant to draw out your punishment.

You’ve never heard or seen a lick of them prior to tonight when you’d been ambushed and chased through the woods.

A gunshot had pierced your shoulder, one that brought more pain than your typical lead bullet. It had left you stumbling with a choked yell, steam rising from the hole in your shoulder blade. Then you’d heard the rustling in the underbrush, the hoots and hollers of men with a different kind of bloodlust than what you’re used to. Oh you’d ran, you’d ran as fast as your legs could carry you through the rough terrain of the forest, clearing fallen logs and scraping your bare arms on branches and thorns.

They’d caught you with another bullet to your thigh and a rope around your legs, pulling snug as soon as you tried to take another step and sending you thudding onto the hard ground. They’d wrapped you in silver soon after, seemingly experts on how to maneuver around you to avoid your snapping teeth and deadly nails. The first touch of the silver made your skin bubble and burn, a scream tearing out of your throat against your will. They’d dragged you crying for you don’t know how long behind their horses, all the way to the edge of the forest that overlooks a field that’s flat for as far as the eye can see.

You don’t know where they came from, they’re clearly unrelated to any other group or tribe of hunters, instead being just a gaggle of men who have dedicated their lives to eradicating yours. The history of your kind isn’t widely known, isn’t readily available to the public, so in your pain-addled brain you still wonder where they heard your tales, still wonder what else you might have to worry about if the knowledge is growing.

Your head thumps back, your breath coming ragged through your lungs. You shut your eyes tight for just a moment, trying to force away any more tears and clear your head. You haven’t felt pain like this in a long, long time, especially because Remmick has always been there to keep an eye on you, to keep you out of harms way. But not this time, not when you strayed too far and got too distracted to be vigilant about your surroundings. You’d been stupid and you know that, so part of you thinks you deserve this.

“Just stake me and be done.” You groan, ultimately defeated as the silver chains bite through your skin to the bone. It’s not like you want to die necessarily, you just want to be released from your own agony. You hate the way they’re toying with you, watching like wolves as you writhe and bleed.

One man shakes his head, his face shadowed by the cowboy hat he wears. “Nah, we like to watch y’all burn.” He looks to his watch and then up at the sky. “Ain’t gon’ be much longer now.”

You can’t help looking as well, your eyes finding the ever lightening night sky. The stars have been chased away, the moon laying itself to rest on the other side of the earth. You can feel the threat of the sun as the air steadily warms, as time tick, tick, ticks away. If you had to guess, you have about thirty minutes left at most before yellow rays peak over the horizon line.

You force a swallow down your torn throat, your breathing stutters as panic kicks up in your chest. You figure seeing the sun in your final moments won’t be the worst thing, it has been seven years after all, but nobody wants to be burned alive. You don’t want to feel your skin cook and be engulfed by flames, you don’t want your last memory to be pain. Tears fall down your bloodstained cheeks without you realizing, dripping to the forest floor as your head hangs.

Then there’s a rustle in the trees beyond that makes your attention snap back up. That’s when you sense it, when the tiny hairs on the back of your neck rise. It’s like a blanket of eerie quiet was laid over the clearing, quieting any crickets or frogs or birds and leaving just the whispers of an old wind through the trees. There’s a flash of red, the familiar smell of ancient blood and earth hitting your nostrils. It’s an instant comfort.

Your own reaction has caused the hunters to become alert, clutching their guns a little tighter and looking into the trees. They don’t even realize what’s happening before the screams start.

The first man goes down—the first is always the easiest. The horses startle in turn, rearing up with loud, shrill whinnies that make the men on their backs shout. One falls off his beast while the other gets dragged from the saddle with a yell. The horses shake their heads and shriek before crashing into the forest, leaving their riders behind to get their throats torn open.

You could sob in relief at seeing Remmick, his claws extended and his fangs bared. He looks feral, his hair wild and his eyes wide and gleaming bright red. Blood coats his chin and his neck, staining the collar of his button up as he rips into his victims as messily as he pleases. The two men left got enough of their senses to try and fire their guns, to use the weapons they so carefully prepared. One wields a wooden stake and runs at Remmick who grabs the man’s wrists to prevent the stake from being buried into his heart.

They grapple briefly before the man is being slammed onto the ground with a terrifying ease, something within his body cracking. Claws are raked across his neck in a quick slash, urgency spurred by the cock of a gun, the sound of the shot being fired making you flinch as it rings through the clearing. It misses its target by just a hair and it’s unable to reload fast enough to prevent Remmick from jumping on the final hunter. The man goes down with a choked scream and you hear the familiar sounds of flesh being devoured and blood being drained. There’s only a sickly silence that follows.

All of the spilled blood has thick strings of drool dripping from the corners of your mouth, your hunger flaring up from the lack of food you’d gotten tonight and the exhaustion of struggling against the hunters. You lean forward instinctively, desperate for a taste, before the silver chains binding your body remind you of where you are. You jolt back with a whimper, pain biting into you tenfold.

Remmick’s head snaps up, those sinister red eyes finding you as the bloodlust and blind rage fades, as he seems to remember you. He’s up in an instant, hurrying over and flinching away with a snarl when he realizes what’s wrapped around your body. “Shit.” He spits angrily, doing it again when he looks to the horizon and sees the slow infiltration of the oranges and yellows of morning into the purples and blues of night. Ten minutes left.

“Rem- Remmick- please, please get me out- it hurts, Remmick, please.” You beg, your babbling words warbling with pain and emotion. You don’t want to be left behind, not again, not by him. It’d hurt more than the searing kiss of the sun.

“I ain’t leavin’ you, darlin’.” He says with finality through gritted teeth, even as every instinctual thing inside him whispers to leave you here to die, to save himself and let you be engulfed in the flames of your mistake. He circles behind you, taking a deep breath before beginning to tug at the chains, hissing as they burn the calloused skin on his hands. Despite the pain, they steadily come undone, dropping to the ground around you so you can finally take in a gasping breath.

“I told you to stay with me, didn’t I? Would it kill ya to listen for once?” Remmick snaps as he undoes the last of the chains around your legs, leaving you to stumble forward. You’re charred and covered in wounds, but now your body can finally begin to regenerate. You look a mess and you feel like one too, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you struggle just to stay standing.

Before you can even get out an apology, he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you with him. His own blood smears on your skin, the smell threatening to cloud your mind. “C’mon, or else we’ll both be fried.” His tone is low and angry and focused, telling you to save whatever you need to say for later.

You eagerly follow him, doing your best to keep up as you both run to outrace the rising warmth of morning. Panic hangs heavy around you, knowing how quickly those final minutes tick by, feeling the heat licking at your heels. Your skin threatens to begin sizzling again, sweat gleaming on your forms.

But by the grace of some cursed god, it turns out the hunters had dragged you not too far from where you and Remmick have made your home in a tiny little house hidden in the trees. It’s temporary, of course, and you’ll no doubt be moving again after tonight, but in the moment it’s like finding a blessed sanctuary in the midst of damnation. You both fly up the porch steps and burst into your home just as the sun clears the horizon line, its beams filtering through the trees while you slam the door in its face.

You fall to your knees instantly, panting and heaving like a dog as your deep injuries throb and ooze. Your whole body is shaking, weak from a pain and hunger you haven’t experienced before. You can feel the ache in your teeth, the drool that still runs down your chin despite how many times you’ve wiped it away.

Remmick is less fazed, simply shrugging off his sweat and blood soaked button up and tossing it aside, his suspenders falling loose around his hips and leaving him in his once white tank. The thin gold chain around his neck glints in the dim lighting, a twin to the gold band on his ring finger. He’s cut it close enough times in his long past that he’s familiar with the sensation of the sun at his back, but he’s been more careful with you. He makes sure to have you both fed and back with time to spare, but everything seemed to go wrong tonight. Though, he supposes the scare was probably good for you. Teach you not to wander off again.

He looks idly at his hands, at the blisters that are already beginning to fade. He’s always healed pretty fast, while you on the other hand aren’t as fortunate. The scent of your blood fills his nose, fills the room of the house. You’re both lucky his hunger was satiated earlier, otherwise he’d be on you like a leech. Even after he turned you, your blood stayed just as mouthwatering, just as delicious to something twisted inside of him. It proved to him that you were something different, something he’d been searching for without really knowing it.

“Are you upset with me?” You sniffle, quite pathetic really. But it’s been a long while since you’ve felt this much shame and embarrassment, and your body doesn’t quite know what to do with it besides force it out through tears.

Remmick stands in silence with his thoughts for a moment more before he sighs, defeated. “I ain’t angry with ya, sugar. Just worried, is all.” He turns, his steps marked by the too-soft thud of boots against hardwood. You see the toes of his shoes in your vision, but you still can’t make yourself lift your head, to look at him—so he does it for you. He crouches down, taking your face in his hand, making you meet his eyes. “Fuck, darlin’, they almost killed you.”

You can see the concern etched onto his eternally young face, the memory of seeing you chained in silver and presented like a sacrifice to the morning sun. You can’t even begin to understand the fear he’d felt; hearing all the commotion far off in the woods, hearing your screams and hoping he ran fast enough to reach you. He could smell the way your blood poured from your body, the way it burned under your confines. He’d sensed your terror too, your emotions sitting just behind his own like a second pair, locked together by a bond too ancient to be understood. You’d called out to him without your voice and he answered without a second thought.

Oh, how he’d raged seeing you against that tree, begging your captors for a quick death. Your face was covered in tears and blood, you’d looked to the horizon with a mixture of acceptance and panic, something he’s seen plenty of times before. He never should have let it happen, should have known to keep you closer, should have known you were still too young into this and got too excited over fresh meat. Hell, he didn’t even know how you managed to sneak off but he’d looked away for one damn minute and then you were gone. He’d been a fool to trust that you’d come back before a gunshot rang through the forest.

Killing those men was one of the easier things he’s done. Remmick barely even registered their deaths, the only thought in his mind being eliminating any threats to you and getting some food out of it as well. Their wards and stakes and silver bullets did nothing to deter him, they were weak and weightless—the opposite of the other hunters he’s come across, the ones with real strength. No, those men were new and ultimately inexperienced, and yet still stupidly dangerous.

He’d worry about them later. They’re dead and gone while you’re still bleeding and sniffling in front of him.

You lean into his touch like a cat, desperate for comfort. “Yer starvin’, ain’t ‘cha?” He murmurs, running his thumb along your cheek. He can see it clear as day in your gleaming eyes, the drool that won’t stop, and the way your wounds are refusing to close because you don’t have enough sustenance. You nod sadly, your head bowed while tears of frustration burn behind your eyelids. Remmick is quick to wipe them away. “Shh, don’t cry, sugar. You’ll be alright. You got food right here.”

You look at him with confusion before seeing the way he’s presented his thick forearm to you, underside up. Your eyes widen and you almost jump immediately at the opportunity, your teeth aching painfully and hunger howling within you. He nods his head towards his arm. “Go on, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t let ya go hungry.”

You sit up, acting on autopilot as you grip his arm in both of your hands, your drool dripping onto his skin before your teeth sink in. Blood immediately comes to the surface of the puncture wounds, and you take every drop you’re offered. The iron-sweet tang on your tongue instantly brings out your hunger tenfold, your fangs digging even deeper into the soft skin. Remmick makes a low noise, something between a groan and a grunt, watching with satisfaction as you take from him.

It’s rare when he lets you do this. Typically there’s enough food for the both of you, enough to keep you happily satiated until the next time that primordial hunger comes knocking. But sometimes there’s nights when the hunt fails, nights like tonight when the need to feast is bad enough to kill you if it’s left too long, when you need to rely on your last resort. However, no matter what, Remmick will never let his lady go hungry.

The age of Remmick’s blood blooms in your mouth, rich with an aftertaste of ancient iron and old, hidden stories. Only people like you would know how much you can learn from someone’s blood, from the life force of their body. The whispers of the lives they led running along your tongue as you feast, the emotions they held within hopes and dreams. It’s fascinating, and it was something Remmick was eager to show you when you were first turned, teaching you the crimson stained wonders of being what he is.

You relish the feeling of his blood flowing through you, working to heal the wounds littering your body. His other hand rests firmly on the back of your neck, his fingers occasionally squeezing and letting you feel the pricks of his claws that have begun to slide from their sheaths. He keeps you there, encouraging you to take and take and take.

You eventually pull back, twisting out of his hold on you and releasing his bloody arm with a pop. Your breath comes as pants through your open mouth, blood staining your lips and teeth, the gleam having returned to your eyes. Your bites have always been cleaner than Remmick’s, less gruesome and destructive, leaving his forearm with tiny wounds that will heal quickly. The sight of red beading from them still makes you salivate but it’s easier to reel yourself in now, dragging your hunger back by a leash around its neck to keep it from going rabid. It allows your fangs and claws to be more willing to retract, your mind no longer running in restless, desperate circles around the concept of food.

You notice the way Remmick has been looking at you, full of some type of reverence mixed with relief, you think. Relief at the fact you’re not a sniveling, bleeding mess on the floor anymore, your usual shine quickly coming back. Your wounds have stitched themselves back together, bone no longer showing and just the outermost layers still being torn and burnt. It makes you feel like you can breathe again, every movement free of the horrible agony.

“C’mere.” Remmick says, voice dropping a few levels as he continues staring at your blood stained mouth. He pulls you in before you even have the chance to sit up properly, your lips meeting in a clash of tongues and teeth. He groans when he tastes his own blood on you, practically taking it from you with the way he licks you. You gasp against him as he fully invades your space, your back hitting the wooden door so that there’s nowhere else to go, his body effectively caging you in. His hands easily roam over your form, knowing every inch and detail with the precision of a man who’s explored them a hundred times before.

Hands come to rest on your waist and before you know it, you’re being hoisted up with a startled noise that Remmick quickly swallows with a kiss. His muscled biceps flex as he easily holds you against him, your legs coming to wrap around his hips and your hands gripping at his shoulders for purchase. You’re carried upstairs with a newfound urgency, Remmick kicking open the bedroom door and roughly laying you onto the soft sheets of a bed that used to belong to somebody else—before you two took over, of course.

Blood, sweat, and dirt immediately stain the covers beneath you, smearing across the fabric as you move. It’s nothing new, this happens just about every time you return from an exhilarating hunt. You both barely ever have the foresight to wash off first before climbing into bed together. Remmick follows after you, your hands resting on either side of his face to draw him in, never wanting to be apart for too long. His fingers pull at the shirt that was tucked into your pants that are too big on you, the ones you always wear on a hunt that are now ruined by the burn marks of silver chains.

His touch is always just on the side of too cold, a consequence of being undead, the same one that you suffer from. It’s something you were quick to grow used to, along with the way his temperature fluctuates depending on how much fresh blood he has coursing through him. His ring bites like ice beneath your shirt as he eases it up and over your body, tossing it somewhere into a corner to be picked up later.

“Mm, Remmick..” you mumble, your hands coming up to run through his short black hair, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. His bloody chain dangles from his sternum, hanging just above you like a taunt.

“I know, sugar.” He responds, feeling the way your legs rub together beneath him, your body quivering with anticipation. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, past the spot where he bit you all those years ago. He licks away stains of the dried blood remaining from your sealed injuries, groaning like an animal at the taste that leaves him drooling.

Saliva smears across your skin on his way down your body, stopping briefly at your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling it against his tongue and teasing it between his thankfully normal teeth as you arch into him, little breathy moans and gasps tumbling out of you. He envelops the other breast in his calloused hand, squeezing and rolling the soft flesh between his fingers. “So beautiful… so good fer me, sugar.” He murmurs against you, his nose nudging at the space between your breasts where more blood has dried. It doesn’t take long for him to clean it off.

He makes quick work of your pants, undoing the buttons deftly and lifting your hips to tug them free. His hands run along your thighs lovingly, goosebumps rising in his wake. He straightens, red eyes roving over your now exposed body with appreciation. Drool beads at the corners of his lips, steadily building and running down his chin while you smile at him.

“Pretty thing, all fer me.” Remmick says it like a confirmation and a vow, even though he needs none. There’s nothing that could separate you two besides a stake through the heart or the sun’s warmth. You gave yourself to him completely the day you let him bite you, let him take your life and forge it into something new, something unholy and damned.

“All yours.” You agree, stretching your arms above your head like a cat. You give him a sly grin. “Now stop teasing.”

His eyebrows shoot up, a deep chuckle leaving him, even as he hooks his fingers beneath your underwear and tugs it off. “Always impatient, huh?”

You hum as he kneels, his strong arms coming up to wrap around your thighs and settle them nicely on his wide shoulders. “I just know how good you feel. Can’t a girl be excited?”

Remmick smirks, huffing a laugh. “Shoot, I don’t see why not.”

His breath fans across your cunt, already wet and glistening with your arousal. The red in his eyes smolders like coals, burning brighter with his desire as he looks at you like you’re his next meal. He leans in, that first connection acting like lightning shooting through you, your body arching and mouth falling open. His tongue licks between your folds, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit where he toys with the bud, circling it with little flicks and pecks while you moan above him.

Remmick sucks your clit into his mouth, the rest of you immediately responding in turn as you jolt from the pleasure. He knows how to play you like his banjo, how to keep you easy and pliant while he works you to climax. He knows your body like it’s his own, the bond you share allowing him to hold a presence within you, to tell your emotions and thoughts. Most of all, he knows how you like to be licked, his tongue dipping into your hole as your noises raise a pitch.

“Remmick.. fuck-“ You moan, hands coming down to run through his hair, tugging after a particularly harsh kiss to your clit. He groans into your pussy, the sound reverberating through you as he swallows down your arousal with an eagerness he doesn’t even display during feedings. His drool makes your cunt shine, mixing with your slick to the point you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

He practically buries himself into your cunt, licking and kissing and taking whatever you have to offer. His hands are like vices on your thighs, the unmistakable tips of his claws occasionally pricking your skin as they again slide from their nail beds with his excitement. You can feel the way pleasure courses through you, tightening your muscles and creating a familiar knot in your lower abdomen that will steadily build until it’s ready to come loose. It won’t be long with the way Remmick eats you like he hasn’t had a meal in years.

His nose nudges at your clit, his tongue circling your hole before slipping inside, collecting the wetness you continually drip for him. You whine loudly, pulling harder at the black strands of his hair, your thighs attempting to clench around his head. “Shit- feels so good Rem, fuck-“ You curse, falling back against the pillows, chest heaving.

You writhe under his ministrations, his hands having to move up to your hips just to keep you still, his biceps flexing against your legs. He knows how close you are so he ramps it up, licking from your center to your clit and drawing it into his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. Your moans and whimpers are music to his ears, listening to the way you call his name with a breathy gasp as he makes you cum.

It crashes over you like a wave, that knot coming undone and pleasure wracking your body. Remmick drinks it all, not letting a single drop of it go to waste as his eyes burn red. He’s quick to slip a hand between your legs, two fingers sinking into the plush heat of your pussy, his claws sheathed just for now. He pumps them in and out while you ride through your orgasm, scissoring your gummy walls to stretch you even further. He doesn’t let up, even as you grab at him to try and get him off, the attention bordering on overstimulation. He continues to kiss at your clit all the while, his fingers and his mouth bringing you straight into another orgasm that has you seeing white.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, overly sensitive and leaving your legs twitching. Remmick licks you clean with as much care and diligence a man like him can muster, his fanged teeth occasionally scraping against you and making you shudder. His fingers slip out of your warmth covered in your cum, your walls fluttering and aching at the emptiness that you know won’t last long.

He finally releases your thighs, letting them fall from his shoulders as he lifts himself from between your legs. The lower half of his face is covered in a shiny mixture of drool, cum, and blood, making him look all sorts of a mess. You couldn’t care less, knowing that no matter what he does, it’s going to be a little messy—and you love that about him.

He slowly makes his way back up your body, kissing from your clavicle to your ribs, to your breasts, and then up the column of your neck before at last reaching your lips. You’re eager to kiss him, hands tugging at his shoulders to pull him in, keeping him as close as possible. You taste yourself on his tongue, along with a familiar iron tang that has your hunger flaring again. You pull away only to lick along his chin, eagerly collecting the bloody mixture until there’s none left. Your fangs released without you even realizing.

“Yer still hungry.” He says it as a statement rather than a question, seeing the blatant craving in your dazed eyes, feeling it within himself as if it was his own. You’ve tried to subdue it all this time, not wanting to take more than you’re allowed, but it still makes your stomach clench, your teeth ache. Your body is too weak to resist the pangs, still too busy patching up whatever damage can’t be seen externally. Remmick coos at you, “c’mon, s’okay. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

You begin to protest, your more human sensibility allowing guilt to take charge. “You already gave me-“

He shakes his head, silencing you. “Sugar, ya won’t last long if yer starvin’. I think I ate enough for the both of us anyhow.” You think back to all those dead hunters in that clearing, their bodies strewn along the forest floor and their blood splattered on the grass like paint. You can still smell their foreign iron-laced scents on Remmick, and it only serves to make you crave more. Drool falls down your chin, and he just smiles knowingly. His head tilts, the skin on his neck becoming taut as he bares it to you. “C’mon now.”

There’s a singular moment of hesitation, where you look into those red gleaming eyes of his for a type of confirmation, and all you find is that he’s just watching you expectantly. Well, if a meal’s going to be served to you on a silver platter like this, you’d do good to take it.

Your jaw goes slack, your teeth sharp and ready, before your body lunges up to latch onto his neck. As the first drops hit your tongue, he grunts, his form falling over yours while he wraps an arm swiftly around your waist so you can both fall back onto the bed. His other hand slams down next to your head while his blood fills your mouth and you gulp it down like there won’t be a tomorrow.

Being fed on is always jarring for Remmick, his body still not used to it after the centuries of him being the only one to feast. His neck is so much different than his arm, he realizes, something dangerous being set off within him this time as a result. But it turns out he’d do just about anything for you, so he makes himself ease into the sensation, even as his claws dig into the bedsheets and his fanged teeth grind together hard enough to shatter, the primal part of him fearing that, for once, he’s being preyed on.

“That’s it, sugar.” He says with a husky laugh. “Shit.”

Past the initial shock, it’s easy for the pain to shift into pleasure. It is quite erotic, really, the way he can feel his own blood coursing through your body. The little noises you make while you feed on him, the trickles of blood mixing with spit on your chin, your strength returning all because of him. It fills him with a twisted sense of pride, knowing that he’s the one satiating that bone deep hunger, knowing his blood is mixing with yours and becoming one inside you. “Take it all, darlin’, suck me dry.” He groans, the tips of his claws making little pinpricks in your sides as he holds onto you.

It’s almost involuntary, the way his hips rut against you, his cock straining in his pants and demanding attention. It has his hands fumbling between your bodies, eager to undo the thick buckle of his belt with a clink, the buttons of his trousers following after. You nearly choke on his blood when you feel his shaft rubbing between your folds, coating himself in the mixture of your cum and his drool. He does a few slow, experimental thrusts, not sinking in just yet but simply feeling you instead. It has you groaning against his neck, your teeth digging in deeper and greedily drinking at the ambrosia that is Remmick’s blood while he pants above you.

You release him with a sharp gasp when the head of his cock catches your entrance, at last pressing in with slippery ease. His moan is throaty and guttural, a shiver running through him at the way your walls draw him in, enveloping him in plush warmth. He sheathes himself completely and he stays with his hips flush to yours for just a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the initial pleasure. It amazes you how he never gets tired of it, even after his centuries of being alive and his years of fucking you.

You pull him back down with hands on either side of his face, encouraging him to kiss you. He does, of course, his mouth enveloping yours just as he begins to thrust, drawing almost completely from your cunt before slamming back in. His tongue roves over yours, licking away any remnants of his blood and swallowing down your moans. He pulls away with his chest heaving, a sharp groan falling from his open mouth, fangs on full display just beneath his lips.

There’s a sudden wetness against your collarbones that makes you jolt, looking down to see blood from Remmick’s neck splattered along your skin. The wound you’d bitten into him is still bleeding, droplets coming loose with his thrusts and the way he’s bent over you. He smirks, lifting two fingers and drawing them over the bite marks, collecting the blood smeared there. “Clean up yer mess, sugar.” He tells you between breathy pants, bringing his fingers to your mouth.

You take them eagerly, swirling the pads against your tongue, licking off every bit of blood and enjoying the earthly, metal taste. He watches you in awe, his eyes burning bright red in the dim lighting, full of adoration and reverence and desire. Your spit coats his fingers generously, leaving them shiny when you let go with a wet smack. He buries his head into the side of your neck with a disbelieving chuckle that quickly morphs into a moan, his hot breath fanning across your skin as your hands clutch at his bloodied white tank.

You use the opportunity to mouth at the bite on his throat like an animal, like a cat grooming its mate. You whine suddenly when he hits that spot at the top of your core, the one that has you keening and pleasure sparking like lightning beneath your skin. “Fu-fuck, Remmick-“ You mewl, claws digging into the expanse of his back, even through the tank. He growls appreciatively at the pain, at the red, angry lines undoubtedly rising along his skin and beading with blood.

Remmick nips hungrily at your neck, his hands digging harshly into your sides. He’s practically laid over top of you while he thrusts his cock deep into your throbbing pussy, keeping you as close as possible. There’s something possessive and raw about it, about the way he breathes you in, clutching at you desperately, biting you as if to prove you’re there.

“Ain’t never lettin’ you out of my sight again. Nearly fuckin’ lost ya.” He snarls with a groan, his claws digging in a little deeper at the memories of what happened just hours prior. Though your body no longer holds proof of it, he won’t forget anytime soon. He’ll chain you to him if he has to, just to make sure you’re safe.

“I- I know- I’m sorry-“ You say, moans stuttering with the way his hips slam into you, fueled by his declaration and the feral desires that howl a constant song within him. It’s not often that Remmick reveals any kind of vulnerability to you, instead letting you guess at it based on what you can gather from the bond you share. But it seems the very real idea of you bound in silver and burning brought it out of him, even if only a little.

You’re both nearing release, the pleasure burning in your core while his movements grow choppy and uneven. The noises he makes change, becoming breathy at the edges as his brows furrow, his nose nudging at your jaw. “Rem- Remmick- shit-“ You whine, feeling the way you’re so close to tumbling off the edge.

“I got ‘cha, sugar.” He says, voice rumbling right next to your ear. One hand comes between you, his calloused fingers finding your clit and swirling it in hurried circles, your mouth falling open and your eyes pinching shut as your muscles tense. His response is near instant, his free hand pinching your chin like a reminder, “nuh-uh, look at me, darlin’.”

You have no choice but to oblige him, meeting his gaze through tear stained lashes. You learned quickly how obsessed he is with seeing your face, seeing your eyes. No matter what position you’re in, he’ll make sure he can still see you or else you’ll find yourself flipped around to rectify it. You think he does it as a way to ground himself, a near impossible feat in an immortal body that’s hundreds of years old. You let him use you as an anchor, keeping him tethered here with you, two lonely souls finding company in one another.

It feels like all the breath gets knocked from your lungs as your third orgasm overtakes you. You whimper and whine and moan Remmick’s name, your hands scrabbling at him desperately. The way your cunt spasms around him makes him quick to follow after you with a loud curse, his cum hot as it paints your walls white, filling you to the brim with him. He rides out his high, emptying every last drop into you with small jerks of his hips and soft words, encouraging you to take it all.

“Fuck, sugar, yer somethin’ else.” Remmick pants, muscled chest heaving, straightening just a little to look at you in your fucked-out state. Hair wild, skin flushed, looking almost human if it weren’t for the unholy gleam in your eyes. There’s sticky trails of blood and spit all along your forms, remnants of both the hunt and your copulation. It’s made a further mess of the sheets below you, but quite frankly, you’re too tired to care.

He slowly pulls out with a groan, cum dribbling from your abused hole with his cock no longer there to keep you plugged full. You wince at the feeling, your energy spent and your body rightfully exhausted. As much as Remmick would love to keep you ruined with the reminders of what he did to you, he knows how you hate sleeping while sticky—and he needs you to be able to rest. He gently pries himself from you, even as you continuously try to wrap your arms around him again. “I’ll be right back, darlin’.” He promises, finally getting free despite your grumbling.

He gets a washcloth from the bathroom, wetting it with warm water before returning. Your arms are open for him, welcoming him back into your embrace so you can feel him against you, so you can feel complete. He holds you like something precious, cleans you like you’re made of delicate glass. He wipes the blood off with no issue, his appetite blissfully satiated for now, and he’s gentle between your legs, this routine so familiar that he could do it with his eyes closed. You go limp from his touch, your body pliant beneath him. He kisses you more than once, unable to help himself when you bask so nicely in the afterglow.

When he’s finished, Remmick tosses the cloth absently into a corner somewhere, followed by his bloody tank that joins his button up on the floor to be washed later. He then settles into a non-soiled part of the bed, sitting back against the headboard and easily pulling you on top of him. You simply follow wherever his hands want you to go, more than happy to relax in his lap with your head pressed to his bare chest and his thick arms enveloping you. His scent floods your nose—sweat, iron, dirt, and old leather, making you hum appreciatively.

“My sweet girl,” Remmick murmurs against your hair, his hand running along your back in soothing lines. He pulls one of the spare quilts free and wraps it around you and you nestle into its comfort, the heavy material soft against your bare skin. You nuzzle against Remmick, too tired to resist fully giving in to those base desires for warmth and safety, knowing he’ll give you exactly that. There’s a kiss pressed to your forehead. “Rest. Y’need it.”

“You’ll still be here?” You mumble, barely able to muster a sentence, eyes already beginning to shut. Sometimes there’s days when you need that extra confirmation, his promise that he won’t leave you behind, that he’ll still be waiting for you by the time you wake up. You feel his grip on you tighten, just for a moment.

“‘Course I will, sugar. I ain’t ever leavin’.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Tags; @vesnaragast

[luveline]

could you please write something with bombshell reader and spencer where there is a misunderstanding and she thinks he is cheating on her?? or anything angsty? love your work and just want to tell you how you are the best author in this fandom! besos <333

thanks so much, hope this is okay! fem, 1.2k

You bend forward and breathe. 

Rough breathing. Audibly disjointed, and panicked, and drawing attention. You clasp at the side of the counter in the office kitchen and everyone standing around you goes silent. 

Someone must tell someone who tells someone, because Anderson makes his way to your side soon after. “Y/N, do you need me to get someone?” he asks. 

“Hotch?” you ask. 

“Sure. Do you want to sit down?” 

Your mouth isn’t calibrated to your mind. Your answer takes time. “I’m okay.” 

You blink hard. Your lashes are sticky, mascara wet in the corners and pulling on each other as you force yourself to keep them open. When Hotch collects you, it is with an immense tenderness, and a poorly concealed confusion. “Hey, come on,” he says, guiding you toward the office doors, “let’s find somewhere quieter.” 

You’re three steps down the hallway when you stop. You cover your face with both hands. 

Your entire world just got rocked… you don’t even know how to say it. You can’t stop seeing it, his hand on her shoulder, his head tilted to one side like he always does with you, like he’s going to kiss her cheek. And she’d just let him do it. 

“What happened?” 

“They were kissing.” 

Hotch looks down at you patiently. “Who?” 

“Spencer and JJ.” You swallow down bile. Your voice sounds far away, “They were so close…” 

“Are you sure?” 

“No… Just, it looked like they were. She had her arms around him, he…” 

You blink hard again, but the panic, the agony remains. You could see it, Spencer kissing her, and it just tore you to pieces right then and there. How could he do that to you? The stereotypical you’d always expected to be above races through your head. Weren’t you too much to lose? 

“They were too close,” you say more firmly. 

“Alright,” Hotch says softly. Then, because he’s your friend, even if you’ve thrust him into an awkward position. “I can work this out for you, if you want. I can kill him for you if necessary.” 

“That’s not funny,” you say, because even if it were, it’s way too soon. 

“I’m not joking. If Spencer ever did that to you, I’d… well, I wouldn’t hurt him, but he would lose my respect, and he would lose yours. Do you believe Spencer would put that at risk?” 

“You think I’m overreacting.” 

Hotch gives you a look. Full Hotchner. Understanding, patient, a little humorous. “I honestly can’t imagine a world where Spencer does something that would hurt you, that’s all. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset.” 

You realise after a few deep breaths that he was trying to drive you from a panic attack, and he did it successfully. You swallow a nervous lump.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I can kill him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you want to?” 

“Depends on what I saw,” you mutter, turning away from the glass office doors as they open. 

“Well… perhaps you can–”

“Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” Spencer interrupts, breathless as he slides around Hotch and takes your arm in his hand. “Angel, I need your help, urgently. JJ’s earring got caught in my hair, I’m pretty sure I’m bald.” 

You squint at him, still a little breathless yourself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking between you and Hotch with regret. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

“What did JJ do?” you ask. 

“Angel?” 

He squints. When you fail to offer a reason, he tips his head down to show you the top of his head. “Am I bald? She dropped her pencil case and I tried to grab it, and she yanked back. I tried to stop her from ripping it out, but she said I had to stop being a big baby.” 

He laughs. Hotch lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m hideous,” Spencer surmises from your silence. 

“I didn’t really look.” 

Spencer looks at Hotch. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?” 

You send Hotch a look that says please, don’t.  

“I just felt a bit panicked,” you confess, a half truth to spare your dignity.

“I brought her out here for some quiet,” Hotch says. 

Spencer frowns and holds your arm again with more softness. “You did? Are you feeling better now? You know, the sudden onset of panic is often caused by a process called overbreathing, have you felt that happen to you recently? It’s accidental hyperventilation. Low carbon dioxide in the blood.” His frown deepens. “Unless it’s not that. Are you worried about something?” 

You watch as his hand glides further up, his thumb rubbing into the soft fat of your upper arm. 

“Worried about your hairline,” you mumble. 

Look, you’ll tell Spencer eventually, maybe. But for now your head hurts and you really had almost spun yourself into an anxiety attack, and you need the rest, and meeting his eyes isn’t easy. 

If he were lying about the earring, you’d be able to tell. If he’d kissed JJ, the guilt would be pouring off of him. 

“I can trust you to look after her?” Hotch asks. 

“When can’t you?” Spencer asks sincerely. 

Footsteps. A door opening. 

You and Spencer alone, his voice warm with concern. “Are you okay? Really okay?” 

“Can you hug me?” 

“Sure I can.” He slips his arms through yours and pulls you in. “Do you need something? Listening to music can help, I have my headphones on my desk. Or we can just– walk.” His hand spread wide over your shoulder. “You’re shaking.” 

“I am?” 

“Just a little…” 

You try your best to stand completely still. 

“Oh,” he says softly, pulling you with more force toward his chest, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you weren’t feeling okay today. But it’ll be okay, I promise. I got you.” 

It’s not often you feel like the smaller person in your relationship, and he doesn’t make you feel small, but the depth of his promise gives him this bigness that dulls the panic. Spencer… he really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You aren’t at fault for thinking they were too close, but there’s an explanation, and for now that’s enough to make you feel better. 

“How much hair did she rip out, sweetheart?” you murmur, leaning back just far to see his face, not wanting to disturb the stable quiet. “Does it hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine. Honestly I’m more worried about you than my hair.” 

“Can I explain it to you later?” 

“You’ll sleep over?” he asks, lips thinning into a smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says. 

You close your eyes as he cups your face with both hands. Later, when you tell him, he isn’t offended, just sorry. Necessary or not, he apologises and holds you with so much tenderness you’re assured again that Spencer hurting you would only ever be an accident.

[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

Standing in the yard, dressed like a kid, the house is white and the lawn is dead ⋆·˚ ༘ *

You stood firm on the ground, eyes stern and unwavering. In front of you was a place all too familiar—the "shelter" where you grew up, the house that had been your home for five years of your childhood. As you stood there, memories flooded your mind, both the happy ones and the melancholy ones. Your eyes roamed around the place, taking in every detail before you finally decided to enter, lest anyone mistake you for some kind of lunatic loitering outside someone's house.

As your feet mindlessly carried you into the room, a heavy, shaky sigh escaped your quivering lips. It hadn't even been five seconds since you entered, yet you already felt the urge to cry. Oh well, that's what memories do to you. You gently caressed the dirty white wall adorned with your old, fading doodles. Most of them were pink—your favorite color then and even now as an adult. You smiled sadly as the memories of your time in the house flooded back, making you nostalgic. You scoffed sarcastically at the irony that you missed this place more than the manor where you'd spent a longer time.

Perhaps it was because the old you—the innocent, sweet, and pure one—was still within these thin walls that had sheltered them through all the bad times. You could feel their giggles and laughter lingering in the air. Tears streamed down your face as you stared at every sticker, doodle, and writing spread across the walls. Somehow, you cried out of joy, relishing the fact that the child you left behind in this house was still here in some way. Still innocent, still unaware of the harm the world could do.

In the manor, all the love you ever knew came from the man who introduced himself as the family butler but whom you soon came to know as your father. He was the love you craved and begged for at Bruce's feet. He fed you, took care of you, and taught you the things you needed to know. He attended family days, PTA meetings, and other events that your biological father should have been at. Under Alfred's shelter, you did everything you could to try to level with your siblings' talents—learning acrobatics, martial arts, drawing, baking, and more.

Yet it was Alfred who, in the dead of night, under the whispers of the cold wind whipping past your teary face, assured you that you would never need any of those skills to truly earn your family's love. All you needed was to be yourself. You allowed yourself to believe his words and lived them as your truth for a short time, but soon gave up on the idea, accepting that they wouldn't truly see you.

Now, dwelling on your lingering past and memories outside the manor, you remembered those you knew before coming to live with them. You reminisced on the thought of your mother. You remembered her.

You remembered how poverty ate your mother away and that she couldn't provide necessary needs for you but you, sweet, beautiful, angel you never complained.

You remembered how much you loved those barbie shows and movies but couldn't afford the dvds and even a proper functioning television so you sometimes watched it from your window across your neighbors, and while watching you saw a glimpse of their life. Their happy, perfect family life. How they cuddled their daughter and watched those silly barbie movies together. Your eyes softened as you thought "I wanted that" the little you hoped that maybe one day momma will get better and finally love me. Your tears poured from your eyes at the thought.

You remembered while you were doing your homework alone, you heard a whimper outside your window near the alley. As you peeked your tiny head outside, your hair flowing with the cold, harsh wind, your eyes searching for the source of noise. As you let your gaze travel through every corner of the alley, you saw a dirty, poor puppy whimpering, alone, calling out for its mother, its father, anyone. You ran hastily outside and collected its tiny and fragile form gently in your arms. "I'm here, I'm okay, you're safe," you whispered softly to the creature. And from. That very day you fed it and kept it sheltered secretly from your mother. You named her Amara. It suited her. You didn't have much play mates so you sometimes play with her by the yard where you and her would either run together or lay down. You never really got to say goodbye to her. From "that" moment on, you never got to go back to your house. You wondered how she was. Was she well fed? Did she think you abandoned her? Does she miss you? The guilt of living her ate you up the longer you dwelt on the past. You shook your head and sighed, trying to forget about all of it. You mourned every version of you. And this was your most treasured one. Thinking back on all the memories you had of the old you, of her. You thanked them for being so forgiving, for being so brave, for being so content with what she had, and for never trading anything for it.

They Were such a kind soul. And you're glad that they gets to stay where they were the happiest despite the nightmare they endured those days. You will always look up to them. They were and will always be a part of you. You took one last look at the house, the drawings, the dirty corners of the room, and released a breath as you closed your eyes. This was it. You'll finally get to say goodbye-

Whimper

You froze as you heard a familiar whimper. You turned around and slowly walked towards the opened door, and you saw her. Amara, your friend. You can't help but let the tears fall as her once brown fluffy appearance is now old and grey. You wondered how even in the light of old age she somehow still seems so youthful. She was still your baby. With a shaky voice, you tested the name. "Amara...?" she wags her tail in delight as a response to the familiar name she's been waiting to be called for so many years. You kneeled down and gently caressed her. "Oh, baby. You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" she whimpered as if answering you. You noticed her trying to catch her breath and her body growing weaker. You glance at her tail and see its wagging has become more frail and slow. You glance at your eyes, and you know. You smiled at her and whispered, "It's okay, baby. You can rest now." Her face weakly lit up, and she slowly closed her eyes, calm and loved, finally in your embrace.

After some time, you tenderly wrapped her body in a blanket. You carried her to the yard where you both used to play together as kids, a place where you ran freely without a care in the world. Borrowing a shovel from a tenant in the apartment, you buried her there, in the spot where you both were the happiest.

You whispered silent prayers for your companion and left with the memories. This was it. You've made your peace with the old you. Almost. There was one more thing you have to do.

You used believed that your mother could have been so much more. She was a beautiful woman. Smart, even if other would beg to disagree. But, you knew that she knew how to play her cards right to get what she desired for. She would have been so powerful if she used her sharp mind to something much more.. Productive. Yet she chose to sleep with men, abandon her child, and let herself be eaten by poverty and lust. Well, you didn't really mind if she abandoned you. You've always felt like you were the burden, the barrier to her way of succeeding and the chain locked onto her feet, keeping her from truly running away to what she has become. You've seen it in her eyes, the thought of running away and living a new life, but when she looks at you.. She saw a mistake she could never be freed of. A mistake. If only you weren't born, she would have been so happy.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink. "Ma'am?" the nurse asked. Suddenly, you were back to reality. You blinked again, processing her words. You glanced at her expectant expression and blurted out, "Y-yes, yes, uhm. Yeah. I'm ready." She smiled and said, "Great. Let's go this way, ma'am." You followed her hurriedly, not wanting to test her patience. As you walked, dissociating and thinking of all the possible outcomes, the nurse suddenly stopped in front of a room and said, "We're here. You can enter now." You nodded and thanked her silently.

Facing the door, you chanted in your mind, "You can do this," with a mix of determination and uncertainty. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and opened the door. There she was—your mother, in all her glory. Bare-faced and vulnerable in her comfy hospital gown. You almost choked on your saliva, seeing her this... bare. You had always seen her so filtered, her face adorned with colors, her clothes tight and bright. Awkwardly, you shifted in your place and slowly sat beside her bed as her gaze followed your every move. You cleared your throat, preparing to speak, but she beat you to it.

“I know you.” you widen your eyes at her as she continues “you're my child.” you weren't shocked at the fact that she acknowledged you but the fact that she called you Her child, and the softness in her eyes. You were starting to think that maybe this isn't your mother, because she never looked at you like that. Never in years of living together has she even glance at you.

She chuckled at the sight of your confused and shocked state, bringing you out of your thoughts. "What? Shocked? Of course, I still remember you, Y/n," she weakly said, her voice small and quite different from the harsh tone she used to yell at you with. You inhaled sharply, trying to stop your tears from falling. What the heck? Were you about to cry again?

"I thought with how much resentment you harbor for me, you would have forgotten about me by now," you smiled sadly at her, watching her face drop slightly but still smiling weakly.

"Oh, Y/n," you almost crumbled right then and there. Oh, how much you had longed to be called so sweetly by your mother's voice. "I never hated you... that much," she said bitterly, and you stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I just wasn't born to be a mother, no—at least not in this life. I'm a mess and I always will be. And I'm sorry I couldn't change for you because nothing can and nothing will change me anymore."

Your lips frowned at her words. "I always thought that maybe you could have been better without me," you said. You miss her, and you will always miss her. She was your whole world, but now seeing her and talking to her made you realize her world was clearly much different from yours. Her world was something one could not escape. You knew you couldn't live like that, and it seems that she cannot live any other way. They said that a mother and children exist as wretched mirrors of each other. You were all she could have been and she was all you might have been.

She closed the distance between you and embraced you for the first time. "You never were. It was me. I was the problem. You were just a child. In another life, I would've been able to care for you." You didn't question her on why she couldn't do it in this life because you knew. You knew she didn't have the capability to be a good mother and a morally good person now, and that was okay. You couldn't live with The fact that she will never truly care for you and will always hold secret animosity towards you if you force her to be a mother to you. You closed your eyes for a minute and silently took in the feeling of a mother's embrace for the first and last time.

"This is the last time you're ever gonna see me again," you said. Your mother chuckled bitterly and replied, "I know. Good for you, kid. Leave everything behind and start anew. You deserve it."

You soon moved out of her arms and held her hands tightly, looking into her eyes. With a deep exhale, you walked out of the hospital. This was it—you were finally free from your past. You had made your peace with it, and now it was time for you to move forward. You knew that if you didn't confront the horrors of your past, they would haunt you for the rest of your life. You had made a good choice.

As you stepped outside, the cool breeze greeted you, and you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. It was as if the universe itself was acknowledging your newfound freedom. You took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, savoring the feeling of lightness that now enveloped you. Walking down the street, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The city seemed different somehow—brighter, more alive. You noticed the little things that you had overlooked before: the vibrant colors of the flowers in the park, the laughter of children playing, the distant hum of traffic. It was as if you were seeing the world with fresh eyes, unburdened by the weight of your past.

For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace. The past no longer held you captive. You were free to live your life, to pursue your passions, and to surround yourself with people who truly cared for you. It was the beginning of a new chapter. You get home to your apartment and sit at your couch grabbing some blankets and making hot cocoa. You thought to yourself that this is what you exactly needed. Watching barbie movies in your new cozy apartment without any burden past onto your shoulders, the little you would have been so proud, making you smile at the thought. This was it. Nothing was going to stop you now.

That's what you thought.

It has been 2 weeks since you've moved in your apartment and you're getting ready for your ballet rehearsal. You were especially excited about this as you were going to perform swan lake when you got to enact one of the most important and famous characters, how cool was that? As you were about to grab your pink bowed pointe shoes a sudden “ping!” notification was heard from your phone. You turned your head and went to grab it expecting a message from one of your close friends or even your ballet mates but all you were met with was a message from a person you least wanted a one from.

Dick. Your supposed older brother is asking you to hang out with him. At this very moment. You dropped your phone and stared at nothing while breathing heavily. You feel your heartbeat rapidly breathing, the knot in your stomach growing more tighter and tighter each minute you let the thought sink into your brain. You almost tripped at your foot as a result of your vision disfigured, as if you were looking through a fish-eye lens. This wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to happen. When-how?-why?! Why was this happening now? You were only starting to feel like everything in your life was finally starting to go your way. Why did this have to happen? It was as if the universe was mocking you. You bit your lips until it bled but you couldn't care less. You were numb. You hadn't even realized that you were nowate for today's rehearsals. With trembling hands you reached for your phone and shakily pressed the button “block” as you silently prayed that he-they would never come in contact with you ever again.

Of Course that wouldn't happen though. The universe was never really on your side.

Dick? What's happening here?

A sudden deep voice spoke, bringing Dick out of his deep trance. He turned around and saw his father standing outside the door, looking suspiciously at him. He stared at his father and saw the look on his face—full of confusion and unfamiliarity, not towards him but the room he was in. "I-it's Y/n," he stuttered, the name tasting so sweet on his tongue. He wanted to roll around in the scent of you. Was that weird? No—he just missed you, that's all.

"What about them?" Bruce's voice carried a nonchalance that almost made Dick angry. How could he be so indifferent about his precious sibling? With a hard voice, Dick replied, "They're gone." Bruce's eyes widened slightly at the response. What did he mean you were gone? You were just here when... Wait, when? He worriedly glanced at Dick, and as if understanding, Dick answered, "I know."

Bruce inhaled sharply and stepped inside the room, your lingering scent greeting him. Your trophies adorned the walls. This was your room? No, it couldn't be. This was too little. This was just... not it. The difference between his other childrens bedrooms and yours was so noticeable. You didn't have any fancy chandelier decorating yours. You didn't have your own bathroom.

Bruce's eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. The neatly arranged trophies, the faded posters on the walls, and the small bed that seemed too empty now. He walked over to the desk and picked up a framed photo of you, when was this? You look so.. Grown? How old were you? Were you old enough to live alone? How come he didn't know? Did you have a job-were you even allowed to have one? he clenches his fist as he stares at the sight of your image and sees your bright smile. His heart ached at the sight. How had he missed this? How had he not noticed the signs?

Dick watched his father, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He wanted to scream, to demand why Bruce hadn't paid more attention, why he hadn't been there for you. But he knew he wasn't any better than his adoptive father was. Besides, it wouldn't change anything. The damage was done.

Bruce set the photo back down and turned to Dick, his expression a mix of regret and determination. He saw the tiny diary and other papers scattered across the floor and picked them up, reading them one by one as he slowly spiraled into regret and guilt. Dick watched as he knew this was going to make him understand. Today made it all clear to him. Why there was a nagging feeling inside of him saying that there was something missing in the manor. It was why the sweet muffled music of the orchestra haunted the manor, the same kind of music haunting their bedroom. Like it was a reminder, a warning. That something special was lost. The soothing sound of humming, light footsteps around the manor now gone. The pink bows tied around the handles of the stairs, the love that the plants receive now nowhere to be found. It was because you took that love with you.

"We need to find them," Bruce spoke, his voice steady but filled with urgency. His knees bounce as his Jaws tighten anxiously.

Dick nodded, his resolve matching his father's. "We'll find them," he replied, his voice firm. "And we'll make things right."

As they left the room, Bruce carrying the framed image of you tightly, almost as if he was paranoid that something would take it from him, and dick gently running his thumb through the texture of your pink, bowed, bright diary, the weight of their mission settled on their shoulders. They knew it wouldn't be easy, but they were determined to bring you back. The silence of the manor was a stark reminder of what they had lost, and they were ready to do whatever it took to make amends.

Bruce was anxious. He didn't have a plan. Ironic, because Batman always had a plan. It was an unspoken rule—Batman was always prepared. But now, he found himself at a loss, his mind racing with uncertainty. Perhaps it was because he knew every single person in Gotham. As the guardian of Lady Gotham, he prided himself on understanding the intricate web of connections and motives that defined the city's inhabitants. He calculated every person's actions, paid attention to every detail, and watched from the heart of Gotham.

He paid extensive attention to everyone... except you.

It wasn't intentional. He had always been consumed by the weight of his responsibilities, the never-ending battle against crime, and the need to protect the city. But now, standing in your room, surrounded by the remnants of your presence, he realized his failure. The irony of it all struck him—Batman, the meticulous planner, had overlooked the most important person in his life.

Now he was desperate, he may not have a plan but he was desperate. He'll do anything to get you back. Any possible way to get back all the times he failed you, when he failed to be a father to you. He swore to protect you and never let you out of his sight ever again.

Dick wasn't any better. As he walked, his thoughts played tricks on him, but in a way he almost relished. His mind insisted that you must be so scared without him, without your older brother to protect you. He didn't even consider the possibility that you could be an independent, fully functioning individual on your own, or the fact that you had grown and most likely abandoned the thought of "bonding" with him. In this moment, his mind was consumed by the image of you and the curiosity of what more you had within yourself that he had neglected. His anxiousness grew, causing him to bite his nails and run his hands through his hair in frustration. His breathing became ragged, and his heart pounded in his chest. It was as if he had turned feral, his bloodshot blue eyes itching to be blessed with a vision of your face.

The more he thought about it, the more his mind played tricks on him. He imagined you scared and alone, wondering why your older brother wasn't there to protect you. He couldn't bear the thought of you suffering because of his neglect. His thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. What if you were hurt? What if you were in danger? What if you had given up on ever reconnecting with him?

The guilt gnawed at him, making it hard to focus on anything else. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed you, that he had missed so many opportunities to be there for you. His heart ached at the thought of all the moments you had spent alone, craving the attention and love that he hadn't given.

As he continued to walk, his thoughts became more erratic. He imagined you thriving without him, having found your own path and your own sense of independence. The possibility that you no longer needed him stung, but it also filled him with a strange sense of pride. You had grown, despite everything, and that was something to be admired.

Still, his mind couldn't rest. He needed to see you, to know that you were okay. The uncertainty was driving him to the brink of madness. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, determined to find you and make amends.

he wouldn't rest until he saw you again.

Both Bruce and Dick disregarded everything around them, unaware of the curious look Tim gave them. He followed quietly behind their backs, raising an eyebrow as he wondered why they hadn't noticed his presence yet. Normally, these two were incredibly guarded, so Tim was shocked by their lack of awareness. What could have made them so unfocused?

Bruce—the Batman—and Dick—the first Robin and now Nightwing—were both engrossed in a particular object. They seemed to be completely absorbed, their usual vigilance overshadowed by their intense fixation. Tim watched as Bruce's eyes remained glued to a framed photo on the desk, his expression a mix of regret and determination. Meanwhile, Dick's gaze was fixed on the pink notebook in his hands, his fingers gently tracing the glittery cover.

Tim couldn't help but wonder what was so important about these items that it made two of the most vigilant people he knew drop their guard. The framed photo of you, smiling brightly, seemed to hold Bruce in a trance, while the pink notebook, adorned with bows and glitters, seemed to capture all of Dick's attention. They were so consumed by these objects that they had let down the walls they had built through years of vigilantism.

It had to be something incredibly significant—something better yet, special.

“What are you two doing?” asked Tim, suddenly breaking the silence between the three of them as he watched the father and son duo flinch, obviously flabbergasted at his sudden interruption at their deep trance. He observed as their face turned from shock to going back to their frowning faces making him mirror the same expression. Dick clenches his jaw and exhales sharply preparing himself to speak when he is suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice he would always recognize.

"What is going on here?" a figure with deep forest-green eyes asked, standing tall in the shadows, his cold demeanor unwavering. Dick's eyes met his, and he said his name. "Damian. Wha—"

"You have deliberately abandoned your promise to train with me today. Why?" Damian's voice was sharp, full of accusation. Shoot. That was right. Dick had forgotten to train with his younger brother today. But it didn't matter now; his other sibling needed him, and it was about time they knew about them too. He glanced at Bruce's unfocused state, feral and restless.

"It's about Y/n," Dick said firmly.

Tim stood still for a moment, trying to figure out who "Y/n" was, while Damian immediately sneered at the mention of his "rival." He couldn't pinpoint why your presence angered him so much. Maybe it was because he had to share the title of being the Wayne heir with someone so... normal, someone so far below his level. You both were so different. Perhaps he was jealous of you for being so normal, for not having to worry about tainting your hands with blood and painting others black and blue. What did you even do? He didn't know, but he bet it was something a normal civilian would.

Meanwhile, his peripheral vision caught Tim standing still, deep in thought. Damian saw him processing quickly, his mind running fast as he tried to figure out who you were and why you were so relevant at the moment. Then suddenly—aha! Tim remembered now! You were the kid who had pestered him non-stop about some game.

Tim's eyes widened as he recalled the memory. The realization hit him like a wave. He had been so dismissive back then, but now he understood the significance. Guilt washed over him, mixing with curiosity and concern. What had happened to you? Why were you so important now?

Damian's sneer softened slightly, replaced with a look of contemplation. “What about them?” asked damian. While Tim wondered the same. Suddenly Bruce's cold and deep voice said “they're gone.” Damian raising an eyebrow of his response, and Tim answering “gone? Gone how?” switching his gaze from dick and Bruce's form awaiting for one of them to answer his question as the tension in the room thickens. “I mean that they're gone. All their things not found in their room, no trace of them not in the mansion, and not even a goodbye.” Tim and Damian frowned at the same time. Damian scoffed and thought you were probably just making a big scene so the attention would be on you. Bruce said “we need to find them. Now.” his voice left no choice for them to abide by his command.

Now alone in the CCTV room, Tim let his bored gaze wander over the footage from a long time ago, his palm supporting his head. Suddenly, something caught his attention. He watched as you sat, his fingers tapping the keyboard to increase the volume. You hummed lightly at the footage, a simple gesture but not to him. Your voice was so familiar to him. His eyes dilated as you continued humming, your voice sweet as honey, as light as a mother's touch trying to lull her baby to sleep.

He zoomed the footage closer and closer, almost as if he wanted to go through the screen just to hear your sweet, angelic, melancholic voice. Your voice was like a soft fur blanket to him. He didn't know if he was hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but he swore you were covered by a soft light, hugging your form and kissing your skin gently.

Tim sat in your "presence" for a bit, soaking in your voice. As he listened, memories flooded back. He recalled distant muffled sounds within the thin walls, lulling him to sleep, chasing away the demons that kept him awake at night. He had so desperately wanted to close his eyes and rest, and he remembered thinking maybe it was just a voice in his head, or maybe a real-life angel offering him salvation from suffering and the sweet pleasure of sleep. Now he knew, the angel was called "Y/n."

His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk as he leaned in closer, his breathing steadying as he watched the footage. The realization hit him hard. How had he missed this before? How had he not recognized that comforting voice? The gentle humming, the presence that had brought him solace on sleepless nights—it was all you.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to watch, his heart aching with a mix of regret and longing. He remembered the nights he had spent tormented by nightmares, the countless times he had struggled to find peace. Your voice had been his lifeline, a beacon of hope in the darkness.

He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen the importance of your presence in the manor? Tim's thoughts spiraled as he recalled the moments he had dismissed you, the times he had been too wrapped up in his own world to notice you reaching out. He needed to see you. To hear your voice, to take you back, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness as his forehead kisses the cold, dirty floor, or to maybe steal you back without a word. He didn't know, he just had to see you.

The footage continued to play, your voice a soothing balm to his troubled mind. He sat there, never unwavering, always in awe of your voice and never taking his attention off you. He sat there,Unaware that he had been playing the same footage for hours and hours. His dilated eyes worshipping you as if you were a god.

He felt a deep sense of loss, realizing that you were gone, and he hadn't even had the chance to thank you for all the nights you had unknowingly saved him. Determined, he knew he had to find you. He had to make things right.

After some time, finally. Tim's resolve hardened as he stood up, his eyes never leaving the screen. He would find you, and he would make sure you knew how much you meant to him. With renewed purpose, he left the CCTV room, ready to join Bruce and Dick in their search. Together, they would bring you back and rebuild the bond that had been neglected for far too long.

With much focus on the object of his obsession attention, he failed to notice a tall figure in the shadows, watchin. Thinking after all these years they have finally come to their senses, realizing the greatest gift of all was right under their noses.

Damian was a dangerous person. To be fair, he was raised to be an assassin and an heir to the throne from the moment he was born. Not even a moment out of the womb did he catch a glimpse of the normal life he so desperately wanted. He trained day and night, month after month, year after year, to become the perfect product of the world's greatest detective and the daughter of the king of assassins. Imagine the inner turmoil within him when he didn't meet the expectations set upon his shoulders. All his life, all he knew was to fight. In any situation, his first instinct was to fight and guard himself for his life.

Sometimes, he wondered how they expected a child to lead thousands of assassins to create a bloodbath. Behind his pride and arrogance was a deep-seated anger towards those in charge of his fate. He was furious that his innocence had been stripped away, clawing its way back to him, but ultimately, they succeeded in giving him a future burdened with the weight of guilt for painting the young and innocent red.

Damian's upbringing left him with a constant battle within himself. The expectations placed upon him were immense, and he often felt like he was suffocating under the pressure. The relentless training, the unyielding discipline, and the need to prove himself consumed his every waking moment. The anger he felt was not just directed at those who shaped his fate but also at himself for not being able to escape it. Many didn't know of it but he found it hard to be Robin. The conflict between leaning to your instincts or “your- now- morals” was hard. To kill and to save was wrong and somehow to save and to forgive was right.

Despite his impressive skills and abilities, there was a part of him that longed for something more—something normal. He envied those who lived ordinary lives, free from the burden of bloodshed and violence. He wondered what it would have been like to have a childhood filled with laughter and innocence rather than combat and survival. As to why he wonders what more could you possibly want? He was so sure that you had so much wonderful time living such a luxurious life in the manor and never having to prove yourself to be worthy of something in being able to get the object of your desire. How could you run away from this life? From your life? You were so unfair, so selfish.

As he continued to grapple with these conflicting emotions, Damian's exterior remained cold and guarded. He rarely allowed anyone to see the vulnerable side of him, the side that yearned for a different life. But deep down, the scars of his past lingered, a constant reminder of the life he was forced into and the innocence that was stolen from him.

He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and released a heavy sigh. What a bother. Making his way to every corner of the manor to "inspect" and see if you had left any trace of yourself there. As he walked down the path, letting his bored state guide him, he glanced at the thick walls and noticed some unfamiliar works of art. His gaze roamed around the room, settling on various paintings he had never noticed before. It was as if the paintings spoke for themselves, screaming out for anyone to notice and appreciate them. The different textures, colors, shapes, and stories behind the art captivated him.

Damian liked to think that he noticed everything and had the ability to be highly aware of his surroundings, whether he was familiar with them or not. But at this moment, he paused, questioning himself. If he was truly aware, how had he managed to overlook these breathtaking canvases filled with bright colors that made him... feel things? He took a step forward and saw a tiny signature on the left side of one of the canvases. He brought his hand up to softly caress the painting, gently and carefully, as if he were afraid that a mere touch could destroy it.

Engrossed in admiring the paintings, he failed to notice the tall figure beside him. It was only when the man spoke, "Master Damian," addressing him, that he flinched slightly.

"Ah, Alfred. My apologies, I was a bit distracted by the art adorning the walls, which seems to be... unfamiliar to me. Would you mind telling me where my father keeps buying these paintings? I must say I'm quite... impressed."

Alfred frowned and smiled sadly at the youngest Wayne. "Well, Master Damian, these paintings are actually not your father's doing. Rather, they are Master Y/n's work of art."

Damian's eyes widened in surprise. He turned back to the paintings and said "Y/n did these?" he asked, almost incredulous. The realization that you had created such beautiful and meaningful art struck him deeply. He didn't even know that you could draw much less create such.. Beautiful art. While he was thinking about it he realize that he had complimented you, you!

"Indeed, Master Damian," Alfred confirmed. "Y/n spent countless hours creating these pieces. Each one holds a story, a piece of their heart."

Damian felt a pang of emotion through his chest, he couldn't pinpoint what it was but it was somehow nagging him about something, or rather someone. His fingers traced the brushstrokes with a newfound reverence, as if trying to understand the emotions you had captured on canvas.

"I never knew..." Damian whispered, more to himself than to Alfred. The layers of vibrant colors, the delicate details, and the raw emotions conveyed through your art were all a testament to the depth of your soul. He felt a connection to you that he hadn't realized before, a sense of camaraderie and understanding. And he was totally not dissing you just minutes ago.

Alfred placed a comforting hand on Damian's shoulder. "Art has a way of speaking to us, Master Damian. It reveals truths that words often cannot. Y/n's art is a reflection of their experiences, their joys, and their sorrows. It is a part of them that they have shared with the world."

Damian nodded, taking a step back to fully appreciate the entirety of your work. Your art had opened a door to a deeper connection, and he was willing to walk through it. He didn't know why but in a way this was proof that you had always had some kind of connection to him.

As Damian and Alfred stood there, surrounded by the masterpieces you had created, a sense of resolve settled over Damian. He frowns and takes a look around all the work of your art. His style doesn't differ much from yours. the caress of brush ever so slightly seen, and the emotions behind the soul of your paintings, like his. What made you so similar to him? And that, he will not know until he finds you.

He knew that finding you and bringing you back was not just about making amends—it was about recognizing and celebrating the unique and irreplaceable person you were.

Y/n considered themselves a keen observer, attuned to the delicate nuances of the world around them. They noticed the gentle yet sometimes harsh swaying of the wind as it danced with the leaves, creating a symphony of nature's whispers. They noticed the lady sitting on the park bench, quietly absorbing the view of the home she once grew up in, her memories interwoven with the present. They noticed the ducks by the pond, gracefully gliding through the water alongside their mother, a portrait of serene tranquility.

Y/n noticed everything, yet no one noticed them. And it was fine. They had long accepted this reality, enduring the loneliness of being invisible in a world where they saw so much. The weight of being unnoticed had become a familiar companion, a constant presence that shaped their existence. In the silent spaces between moments, Y/n found solace in their observations, finding beauty in the overlooked and meaning in the mundane.

So why were they just noticing you just now? Why? When you have just started to accept and move on. Why must they bring the horrors of the past when your current life is filled with hope arraying a new journey, now destroyed.

Why couldn’t Dick just let you be, drifting away in the silence you’d crafted? Why couldn’t he leave you to fade quietly, just as you had promised yourself you would, a ghost of your former self, untouched and unbothered? Yet there he was, an ever-present weight, his hands—rough, calloused, scarred by years of untold burdens—forcing your face into the past, as if his touch could rewrite history. His fingers dug into your skin, twisted into the soft contours of your face, tearing through the years of numbness, of denial, dragging you back to a place you had sworn you’d never return.

And then, Tim. Oh, Tim. The boy who once didn’t even see you, who barely even remembered your name when it lingered in the air of the manor. Now, he’s relentless, his fingers tapping into your phone with the same quiet insistence that his presence once had in the dark halls of that place you used to call home. You want to scream, to rip the silence apart, to do anything but feel what you’re feeling now—this suffocating pull to return to them, to face them, even when you know you never should have to again.

The ache swells, the lump in your throat is a tangible thing now, a choking presence you can’t swallow down. It’s the same searing pain that’s lingered, festering, hidden beneath layers of what you pretended was healing. How cruel it is, to have spent so much time trying to break free, only to find that some things, some people, are never quite done with you.

The ghost of them lingers, burrows deeper, with every unanswered message. They still haunt you, even from afar. You hate them for it, for still holding the power to break you open, to make you bleed from places you thought had long scarred over. It feels like a thousand wounds opening up again—slow, deliberate, bleeding you dry in a way you don’t know how to stop.

You stared blankly into the emptiness, feeling numb, when suddenly a hand rested on your shoulder. You flinched instinctively and turned to see who it was. Your eyes widened as you recognized your ballet teacher standing behind you. "Miss Kavinsky! I-I... Hi! I’m—" you stammered, but she quickly cut you off with a smile.

"Y/N L/N-Wayne, I know," she said with a warm tone. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you."

You winced slightly, the sound barely audible, but Miss Kavinsky didn’t seem to notice. "Come on, let’s meet the other dancers. I’m sure they’re eager to meet you."

The surprise hit you hard, and you stuttered, "M-me?" You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

She grinned, a playful mix of amusement and mild disbelief on her face. "Yes, you. You're kind of a celebrity here, Wayne. Not surprised with a talent like yours."

Her words lingered in the air, but you went quiet, caught off guard by the compliment. You couldn’t fully process it, the idea of anyone looking up to you seemed so foreign, so distant. And somewhere in the haze, you barely registered the way she had called you "Wayne.”

As you and the other dancers gathered at the stage, a wave of anxiety washed over you. The weight of thoughts about Tim and Dick pressed heavily on your mind, and the pressure of the moment only made it worse. Just as your mind started to spiral, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Hey! You're Y/N, right? I'm Desiree, but you can just call me Des."

You forced a smile, barely hearing Miss Kavinsky as her voice faded into the background, announcing something about attendance. Your attention was now solely focused on Des, who had just broken the ice. You shook her hand and smiled more genuinely, the tension in your body loosening up a bit.

"Hi, Des. Yeah, you already know who I am. Nice to meet you."

You both exchanged a quiet laugh, and the chatter around you faded as you continued talking. For a moment, you felt like you could breathe again. You asked the usual questions: "How old are you?" "What's your favorite ballet?" The conversation flowed easily, but when your name was suddenly called for attendance, you were snapped back to reality.

"Here!" you called out, your voice getting lost in the sea of dancers.

But then Des said something that made you freeze.

"So, are you excited that both of you are here?" she asked with a playful giggle, her smile sweet and innocent.

You blinked, confused, but smiled through it. "Both of us...?" you repeated, trying to follow along.

Des chuckled softly at your puzzled expression. "You and your sister, silly! It must be so nice to perform together. My brother wouldn't even try to get into ballet, you know?"

Her words, lighthearted as they were, suddenly made your world feel like it was crashing down around you. You felt a cold panic begin to rise. Your fingers instinctively dug into your palms, almost drawing blood. Your smile wavered, barely holding on, while your eyes fluttered, teetering on the edge of tears. Des’s voice became distant, her words fading into a muffled blur as your thoughts spiraled out of control, bloodshot eyes starting to sting with unshed tears. Your heart raced, and the chaos inside you was too much to contain.

In that very moment, her name echoed through the air, sharp and clear. Without thinking, your gaze shifted, and you locked eyes with her. Her wide, unblinking stare pierced through the noise, anchoring you in place. For a fleeting second, you wondered if she had been watching you all along—since the instant your name was called, or perhaps even before. You couldn't be sure.

What you did know, however, was that the weight of her gaze felt like a force, pulling you into a quiet abyss. It made you feel small, fragile—as if you were prey beneath the steady, unyielding gaze of a predator. A shiver ran through you, and suddenly, all you wanted was to escape, to flee from the suffocating intensity of her eyes, which seemed to strip away every layer of protection you had left.

The fates were clearly playing with you now.

Cassandra was an exceptionally gifted individual, much like her siblings, each of whom possessed their own unique abilities. From the moment she first pursued ballet, her family showered her with unwavering love and support. She had access to training that most could only dream of—privileges afforded to her not because of her wealth, but because she was no ordinary person. She was Batgirl, the daughter of Batman by choice, a mantle she wore with pride. So, when an invitation arrived for her to join the prestigious Swan Lake performance alongside other top-tier dancers, it hardly came as a surprise. After all, excellence was something she had always embraced, both on the stage and off.

As she gets ready for her first rehearsal she can't help but notice that some of her siblings are missing. She shook it off and ate her food but also not abandoning the thought of asking about the absence of her siblings and father, to a familiar companion of their family:Alfred. As where Alfred only replies with them being busy about.. Something, yet said to her to fret not and just worry her mind about her ballet play, quickly chasing away her concerns for her family with a smile that made her feel lighthearted. With a chuckle she got up and made her way to the location of where the dancers were told to meet.

Cass had always believed she was the only one in her family who truly appreciated the delicate artistry of ballet. Her passion for the graceful movements, the precision of each step, and the beauty of the performances had always felt like a private world to her, a world she inhabited alone. She couldn’t recall a single moment where anyone in her family shared even the slightest interest in it. So, when she entered the crowded theater that evening, expecting to be surrounded only by fellow ballet enthusiasts, she was taken aback by something unexpected.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, she spotted you. For a fleeting moment, her heart skipped a beat, not from the rush of seeing someone in the crowd, but from an overwhelming sense of familiarity that washed over her. There you were, standing like a ghost from a forgotten past, an unexplainable connection sparking between you both. Cass couldn’t place it, but it was as though she had known you forever, even though your paths had never crossed before.

Her mind wandered, replaying the memories that had been buried deep within her. A distant image flashed across her thoughts: she was standing in a room filled with soft, pastel-colored fabrics, the scent of leather and polish hanging in the air. Two pairs of pointe shoes rested beside one another on the floor—one was familiar, worn and well-loved, the other brand new, the laces still fresh and untangled. The second pair, the one that felt entirely foreign, immediately piqued her curiosity. She was certain it wasn’t hers, yet the connection to it lingered, something so subtle but undeniable.

The realization hit her like a wave. She didn’t know you, not consciously, but somehow she felt bound to you, as if fate had woven your lives together in some strange, invisible thread long before either of you had even been aware of it.

The entire day she watched and observed you. She paid extra attention to every detail of your expressions, body language, and posture. She didn't know why but you seemed to be very clear–in her case, in distress, like you were panicking over something. And she didn't know why she somehow hated seeing you that way. As the minutes passed, she found herself simply just staring at you. Not even for a fleeting moment had she taken her gaze of you. She watched and observed tensely at every person who looks at you, who talks to you, who breathes near you. Almost as if she was guarding you. As they were told to gather she followed silently after the crowd and placed herself purposely in front of the other side from you. She scoffs in amusement as you barely notice her, too focused on your own little world. As minutes continued to pass, suddenly a girl broke you out of her thoughts with her voice making you flinch. Her breath hitched as irritation started to crawl their way through her chest. Why couldn't the girl be more gentle with you? Can't she see that you were clearly stressed? She frowns slightly at the girl, surprising herself by the sudden change of mood. She holds her breath and watches you like a hawk would at its prey. Her vision was filled with your now loosen frame, giggling with the girl who approached you earlier. A new feeling started to claw its way through her chest, now bigger and stronger. The green monster eating her up when suddenly the call of her voice brought her out of her thoughts as she, for a moment took her eyes off of you to answer quietly to her name and as she bring back her gaze to you, quickly to not miss anything she might take the pleasure in seeing, suddenly your eyes are on her too. Her eyes couldn't leave the sight of your gaze who held such horror in them, as if seeing her was too much for you. As she was your living nightmare sitting right in front of you.

The remaining time the dancers practiced, you avoided her gaze and her presence. The more you avoided her, the more she itched to be in your presence alone, to be near you. The whole time at the practice she was, for the first time, distracted. Her thoughts are consumed by you. Her thoughts came up with every question she could ask about her and your current situation. What were you doing here? Why didn't she know? Were you at the manor? No, if you were she would've known.. Right? Okay if you weren't, then why weren't you? Those questions alone made her uneasy and frustrated. As it was time to go home, she watched as you hurriedly got out and quickly went home to wherever your home was. The nagging feeling screamed at her to follow you but decided against it and thought that going home and bringing the news to her family might help more. After all, they were stronger together.

She stormed into the manor, urgency in her every step, and sought out Alfred with a single, breathless demand: "Boys. Where?" Without hesitation, he led her to them. Her gaze fell upon them, intense and unyielding, her pupils trembling with an unspoken storm. She whispered a single name, a breathless, haunting utterance: "Y/N." The boys, in unison, responded, "We know."

A deep breath escaped her, the weight of their actions—venturing after you without so much as a word—forgotten for the moment. She snatched a laptop, her fingers flying over the keys in a frantic dance of their own. The screen flickered to life, revealing a video that stole the breath from the room. There you were, dancing—each movement a testament to grace, each step more captivating than the last.

The world had already fallen under your spell. The internet buzzed with adoration, praising the way your every turn, every leap, every pause held the audience in thrall. Under the stage lights, you seemed more than human—a celestial being, your form bathed in soft light, glowing like an ethereal angel, kissed by the very air around you. The boys stood frozen, their gaze fixed upon you, entranced.

Your presence was no illusion. You were a goddess of their own making, and in that moment, they knew: they were already devoted, bound by the silent understanding that they would worship you, body and soul.

As the video played, the room fell into a hushed reverence. The boys, once brimming with urgency and tension, now stood motionless, their eyes locked onto the screen, as if spellbound. Every fluid movement you made seemed to breathe life into the very air around them. They couldn’t look away; they didn’t want to. Your every step, every pirouette, was poetry in motion, a delicate balance of strength and grace that made their hearts race.

The way you arched your back mid-spin, the soft brush of your fingertips against your skin, the quiet breath you took before every leap—it all drew them in, slowly, methodically, as though they were witnessing something far beyond the ordinary. Each turn of your body mirrored the very rhythm of their own hearts, synchronized with the ethereal pulse of the music, and they couldn’t help but feel as if the entire world had narrowed down to this one sacred moment.

Your eyes, though focused on the stage, seemed to flicker with a spark of something far deeper, something they couldn't quite place but could almost taste. It was like watching a dream unfold, where every movement became a metaphor—each glide across the stage spoke to something eternal, something untouchable. They found themselves lost in the elegance of your form, the way your body seemed to move with a natural fluidity that defied the laws of physics.

The lights above you softened, caressing your silhouette, painting you in a divine glow. And in that moment, they felt small, insignificant even, as if you had been carved out of stardust itself, too perfect to comprehend, yet impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the skill of your dance—it was your presence, your essence that held them captive.

They felt an almost primal pull, as though your every movement was speaking directly to their souls. The way your body spoke without words—your elegance and power blending seamlessly—rendered them speechless. They were entranced by the aura you carried, intoxicated by your beauty and the mystery you exuded, a beauty that wasn’t merely skin-deep but radiated from within, a force of nature.

For a fleeting moment, they could almost believe that you were more than human, that you were something higher, something divine. They stood there, wide-eyed and breathless, as if they had been granted a glimpse of something sacred—something that no one else could understand. And in that moment, they knew that they would follow you, worship you, in a devotion that transcended mere admiration. You weren’t just captivating; you were everything. They couldn't believe that someone like you had been overlooked by then.

Bruce now understands that with no plan in mind he would still follow you till the end of the earth. Oh his little baby. He would do anything to earn your love and affection for him. To see you and to bask under the ray of sunshine your smile brings. To feel your presence alone.

Dick now understands that he owes you more than a few dinners or dates as siblings. No. He owes you the world. As guilt eats his flesh up one by one, mourning all the versions of you that he could have witnessed right before his eyes are now long gone. But that's okay, he'll make it up to you.

Tim now understands that you were surely his angel. His savior. His form of salvation. He could watch you all day and never get bored. He could listen to you all day until his ears bled but never say a word.

Damian now understands that the disbelief he felt when looking at your paintings full of emotions overflowing with a sense of overwhelming feel, was now long gone because he knew that only such being like you, almost like a supernatural being, could be the only one who has the ability to capture such deep emotions in one painting, to be able to create such beautiful, breathtaking object.

Cassandra now understands why she felt like she somehow had a connection to you and that was because she was your sister. And as she was a daughter to batman by choice, that she will also be a sister by choice to you. She was an observer, someone who guards-and she will guard you with her life for all eternity.

As the overwhelming tension fills the room Alfred stands at the corner with a small smile. “apologies master y/n had I done this sooner, you would have not slipped through my grasp dear child. Do not fret for your family is coming to get you.”

Ah, Alfred, the mastermind. He knew this would happen. He just needed to intertwine a little. He did not worry because he knew. He knew that leaving your bedroom door open the moment he knew Dick was coming over to the manor while the others were busy, and knowing Dick's tendency to wander off in the vast expanse of Wayne Manor, the chances of him finding your room were high. He knew that rearranging your trophies inside your room (which you had told him to get rid of) would pique the interest of your family even more. He knew that decorating your hidden paintings around the minimalist and empty walls of the house would catch the attention of the youngest Wayne. He knew that playing those soft melodies of your voice through the small TV in the kitchen would enchant a certain sleep-deprived boy, making him miss the sweet sound of your voice.

Alfred knew that when Cassandra was called for the big ballet play, you would be at the same play too, as you had told him over the phone, giggling and excited with a high-pitched voice. He didn't bother to tell you about your sister's similar invitation, nor did he inform your sister about yours. He knew every single detail, every thread that needed to be woven together to create this intricate tapestry of reconnection.

Alfred's wisdom was like a silent symphony, orchestrating events with a delicate touch. He understood the nuances of each family member, their strengths, their weaknesses, and their desires. He knew that Dick's curiosity would lead him to your room, where the trophies would spark memories and questions. He knew that Damian's keen eye for detail would be drawn to the vibrant paintings, each brushstroke a testament to your hidden talents. He knew that Tim, in his sleep-deprived state, would be captivated by the melodies of your voice, a soothing balm to his restless mind.

Alfred's heart ached with the knowledge of your absence, but he also held hope. Hope that these carefully placed breadcrumbs would lead your family back to you, to the realization of what they had lost and the determination to make amends. He knew that the path to reconciliation was not an easy one, but it was a journey worth taking.

As the days passed, Alfred watched with a knowing smile as the pieces began to fall into place. He saw the flicker of recognition in Dick's eyes, the softening of Damian's demeanor, and the spark of determination in Tim's gaze. He knew that the seeds he had planted were beginning to grow, and soon, the family would be whole again.

Alfred was getting old and he couldn't bare the vision of his children Bruce and you, drifting away from each other, and you from him. Maybe it was his own selfish reason but he couldn't help it. He raised you from the moment you got to the manor. Teached you everything he knew and gave you all the love he could. He watched you grew up and maybe it was a moment of rush that he allowed himself to be selfish and turn the tables around.

In the quiet moments, Alfred allowed himself a moment of reflection. He thought of you, the child who had brought so much light into his life. He knew that you deserved to be seen, to be cherished, and to be loved. And he would do everything in his power to ensure that you found your way back to the family that needed you just as much as you needed them.

Authors note: I'm sorry I took so long in writing this! I hope yall enjoy the 10k+ words I wrote. One tip tho is to read and observe the details very carefully! Dw I'm gonna explain it soon tho. Hope yall enjoy this cuz imma take a break after this.