#never forget how loved and cherished you are

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE reaction: going home with them for holidays ༉‧₊˚.

req: Hiiii love your work🩷🫧 I have a question is it possible for you to do (reader) coming home with RIIZE for the holidays like a reverse of your last post ?if not it’s okay

pairing: bf!riize x reader — masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

It was the first time you were going to meet Shotaro's family since you started dating, and you were going to spend an entire week with them. You couldn’t deny that you were pretty nervous, and Shotaro was well aware of it. Even though he had reassured you countless times that everything would be fine, you clung to him the moment you arrived. Still, his family was incredibly welcoming and showed great interest in getting to know you, asking lots of questions and making every effort to make you feel comfortable. By the end of the vacation, you felt like they were your second family. "When can we go back?"

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

You had only met Eunseok's family a couple of times before, but you adored the way they treated you, especially spending time with his younger brother. That’s why, when they invited you to spend the holidays with them, you couldn’t have been more excited. You loved hanging out with his mom and brother, you even went out for meals with them and explored the city together. Noticing how much attention you were giving them, Eunseok couldn’t help but hug you when you were alone in his room and tease you. "It seems like you’re more in love with my family than with me…"

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

Every Christmas, Sungchan and his family spent a week in a snowy cabin. He had always talked about how much fun it was, so you were naturally curious. When you received the invitation, you accepted without hesitation, not realizing you had no idea how to ski. You were amazed by how skilled Sungchan was. Both he and his family did their best to teach you, though you never quite got the hang of it. Despite that, you had an amazing time, bonding with Sungchan’s family and making unforgettable memories.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

You were quite nervous about meeting Wonbin’s family, wanting to make a great first impression. Everything seemed to be going well until, while helping Wonbin and his dad prepare dinner, you accidentally dropped a plate, leaving you mortified. Even though everyone assured you it was no big deal, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. During dinner on the first night, they went out of their way to make you feel comfortable. Over the next few days, they included you in all their plans. In the end, Wonbin told you how much his family liked you, though you still couldn’t forget the broken plate incident.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

When Seunghan invited you to spend Christmas at his home, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. Even though you spent almost every day together, this was your first vacation as a couple, and both of you were thrilled. You loved spending time with his family, but what you enjoyed the most was simply being with him. To your surprise, it snowed one day, and you all went out to build a snowman and have a snowball fight. It was a holiday you would always cherish.

⭑.ᐟ sohee

Sohee had often told you about his family’s holiday traditions, so you were curious to experience them in person. His family welcomed you as if you were one of their own, and every evening, you watched a movie together and played board games after dinner. You loved seeing Sohee so happy, yet shy when introducing you to his family. On the final night, the two of you cuddled by the fireplace, reminiscing about how much fun you had.

⭑.ᐟ anton

Anton was thrilled that you were finally going to meet his family and equally excited to take you to his childhood home. There were so many things he wanted to show you. Spending time with him and seeing his excitement as he gave you a tour of his neighborhood brought you so much joy. Your favorite part was visiting his room and listening to his mom share stories and show you childhood photos of Anton, your ultimate weakness, though it embarrassed him a little. By the end of the trip, you and his mom had agreed to stay in touch.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[tinietaehyun]

INVITE: Always & Forever

[Vampire!Beomgyu x Herbalist!Reader] [Part II - Sequel] [One-shot]

Pairing: Vampire!Beomgyu x Herbalist!Reader

Genre(s): Supernatural, romance, angst, action, forbidden!love, fantasy, thriller.

Contains: Profanity, mentions of biting, blood, injury, death, suggestive/mature themes, established relationship, graphic depictions of injury, violence.

Links: Invite (Part I) || Masterlist

Summary: His fangs graze your neck causing you to shiver, each night in his embrace and each day, walking hand in hand. A secret romance, a dark secret only you two knew, and if it came out to the rest of the villagers that the very vampire they were on the hunt for was the one you were courting? Then well… it’d certainly make things unfortunate wouldn’t it.

Just how long could you two slip away under the dark, keep your rendezvous a secret? Slip your love under the rug before it could end disastrously?

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you, sweet healer,” he breathes. You cup his cheek shakily, “You need not be sorry, Beomgyu. It’s them.”

Utter bliss, the warmth of your bare body against his felt heavenly against his own cold skin. How pliant, how soft, tender, the curves that he couldn’t get out of his mind— sweet moans, and gasps. It was indeed a night he’d not forget for a long time, if not ever.

You lay wrapped in his embrace, face nuzzled into his chest, hair dishevelled, the bite marks on your neck and shoulders now fading leaving a shadow of a memory. The only marks that remain are dozens of love bites littered across the canvas of your skin.

You both cherished moment like this. After a passionate encounter, the simple morning with the sun gleaming through the tattered curtains. You knew the moment you saw Beomgyu perched devilishly on your balcony yesterday night, it was bound to occur. A nuzzle here, a peck there. A small nibble of blood, he said, one more bite, he said. One thing led to the next, and in moment you two were in bed together.

It had been just over six months since you and Beomgyu had officially began courting each other (albeit secretly of course), the villagers had noticed that the number of attacks had declined massively. Of course they would, after all, you’d provide Beomgyu with just enough sustenance. He relished your blood like no other, loved the flavour and essence of it, he’d never get enough. He had always insisted that he wouldn’t feed off you daily, he wanted you to have strength, and not just use you as food, no matter how much you insisted it was fine.

From the loving look in his gaze, the way he cupped your cheek, ran his fingers through your hair, tightly wrapped his arms around you, you could tell this vampire, was utterly and astoundingly in love with you. And you? You were just as infatuated and deeply in love with him as he was. He took over your thoughts and despite your bickering (which you oh, so loved) — you couldn’t get enough of him!

His groan makes your eyes flutter open and you shift yourself to crane your head up to meet his gaze. Oh how beautiful he was, although not surprising for a vampire. His dark locks dishevelled, his gaze drops to meet yours, a spark of mischief lighting up in them, lips quirking into a smirk.

Before you know it, Beomgyu dips his head down nuzzling into your neck and inhaling deeply sending a shiver down your spine, followed by a quick nip to your earlobe. “Morning, little healer. How are you feeling? Do need to be patched up yourself?” He litters kisses up your neck making you giggle, his hair being ticklish, “I was rather rough, hm? I couldn’t help myself, just seeing you after you went on that two day herb expedition, it drove me crazy, you understand, right?”

You coo, running your fingers through his hair, “Mm, I’m not complaining.” He muses, “Yesterday, you definitely weren’t… in that case,” his hand trails down your waist and your eyes widen as you realise what he intends to do, “No, no! Up, up, up, you mischievous vamp, I have to open up the shop.”

He pouts, “Come now, sweet healer, surely your customers can wait for an hour…” he pauses, “Or two?” You playfully smack his shoulder as you wrestle your way out of his grasp, “Nope, no bargaining, no bartering, no concessions. I’m serious. Behave.”

He huffs, “My, my dear healer, so cruel to your lover. I just wished to show you how much I missed you.”

“You act as though I were gone for a week or two, it was only two days,” you hum amused getting ready to bathe. His eyes flit over your form as you rush around, “Those two days felt like two centuries, my sweet healer, you simply don’t understand.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a towel, “Well, I can’t help you there, your perception of time seems to be rather warped, Beomgyu.” You pause, “Ah wait, you were careful right? I mean for food. I wasn’t there to feed you and-“

He sits up tousling his hair and he peers at your seriously, “I know, I know. You told me an uncountable amount of times before you left, to not be reckless or lose control. Do not worry, I stuck to cattle and a rabbit…mostly,” he grimaces, “Awful, by the way.”

You scoff, “Just animal blood right?” He sheepishly grins, “Uhm, maybe one human.” You glare, “I’m going to kill you, the villagers will have our heads on stakes. Both of us. They’ll think I’m a heretic. Or that I’ve been enthralled and kill you first and then me.”

As much as your relationship blossomed over these months, you both knew there one major issue that held you two back. His identity as a vampire — enemy of the village, a sadistic monster feared by all. And your identity as a mere human, siding with said monster, and heinously giving him your blood. That’d make you the child of the devil himself in the village leader’s eyes! They’d drive the both of you out; pitchforks and flaming torches and ruckus roars.

You shake your head removing that scary image. You didn’t want that, neither did he. So you both were cautious, incredibly so, or well, tried to be. It was hard, the village was a small place, there was always someone everywhere, eyes everywhere. You’d mostly meet up at night, where everyone mostly stayed indoors due to fear of…well your lover.

His arrogance and over-confidence in his ability to not get caught always set you on edge, made you paranoid. You chided him many times of course. Beomgyu sighs, “I’m sorry, I know, but… he was injured and well…it just, after that disgusting animal blood, I couldn’t help myself, you know?” You deadpan, “Just…you know we can’t afford to be careless. No one saw you right?”

“Yes, yes, I made sure no one was nearby and as usual erased his memory.” Your shoulders relax and you huff, “Two days and you can’t even wait for me.” He gets up stretching, your eyes flitting to the way his muscles flex, he catches your gaze with a smirk, “My offer for some morning fun still stands?”

You glare softly, “Very amusing, Beomgyu.” He shrugs, running his fingers through his dark brown locks, “A valiant effort from my end.” Shaking your head, you smile exasperated, “Anyway, we have to be careful, the villagers you know…”

Beomgyu walks up to you, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and murmurs, “I know, I know, sweet healer. You mean the world to me, the last thing I’d want is for you to be taken away from me.” His gaze noticeably darks and his grasp around you tightens, “I’d never let that fucking happen. I don’t care who I have to hurt.”

You twist around his arms with a smile cupping his cheek and then pinching it as he glares waving away your hand, “Are you cooing at me?” You pout, “So protective aren’t we? But I’d rather not have such bloodshed, no? We have to avoid such an outcome.” He presses his lips against your forehead tenderly before leaning his own against yours, “Mm, I suppose so, dear healer. Makes sense considering your occupation that you’d not want any casualties.”

You scoff and he murmurs, “I just think it’s a shame I cannot show you off, arm in arm, proclaim to the world that you are mine and mine alone. That we must hide.” You frown momentarily and sigh, “I…I know, Beomgyu. I’ve thought about it a lot too. But with the way society is and all..I’d not want to take the chance to lose you—even if it means utter secrecy.” He nods, eyes closing in bitter understanding.

Your days are spent in your shop preparing remedies with the much loved company of your salacious yet romantic lover. He made your dreary days and monotonous routines not so boring. He even accompanied you to collect herbs, worrying about you going into the woods by yourself.

You found solace in his arms and so did he in yours. His cold lifeless body felt lit with renewed life, as though he were truly living again. Everything about you, your endearing mannerisms, the way you spoke to him, that adorable look of concentration whenever you were using the mortar pestle on some particularly pesky herbs or how you’d gaze up at him with the most heart-stopping stare. All of it, everything about you just seemed to make life all the more worthwhile— something he could come back to each day, not just focusing on his pursuit of sustenance.

Meanwhile, your days were filled with a tender warmth and beautiful joy. Some days where he wouldn’t visit your shop, pester you like he always did, you felt empty. You relished the way his large hands fit with yours, the way his fingers intertwine with yours and squeeze reassuringly, his hushed whispers, his ticklish pecks along your neck. You adored it, and he adored doing such things to see your flustered and endearing reaction.

Although he was a pest whilst working, although you bickered back and forth, you knew he had your heart in his hands, without a doubt. From the way he gazed at you with such love, it was indeed the same for him.

Sighing, you grind the herbs in the mortar and yelp as you feel cold hands on your shoulders. His husky voice caressing your left ear, “Miss me, sweet healer?”

You peer over your shoulder with a snarky smile, “What makes you think that? Of course not.” You see the tip of his tongue flick over the point of one of his fangs in delight, a habit you noticed when he was in a playful or flirtatious mood.

“Oh really, hm? I find that rather hard to believe.” His hands trail down your arms leaving goosebumps before settling on your hips giving them a firm squeeze as he rests his chin down onto your shoulder. “Mm… so warm.”

You muse, “I’m beginning to think you’re a reptile with how much you adore my body heat.” He scoffs nuzzling into your neck, “Don’t be rude, I am not some pathetic snake or lizard.”

“You’re practically cold-blooded, in a sense, no? An overgrown reptile, but I suppose bat would be more accurate. Mosquito also works-“ You murmur amused as you continue adding more variety of herbs and plants to the grinded mixture. Beomgyu deadpans at you and you snicker.

Beomgyu huffs, “That’s a very ignorant assumption, healer. I’m wounded.” A chuckle leaves your lips, “Oh my poor Beomgyu, are your feelings hurt?” He rolls his eyes, “How, you torment your lover so, dearest healer, how cruel can you be? I flourish you with countless compliments, and this is how I get repaid?”

You feel him deeply inhale— he always did love your neck. Your scent, oh, and of course your blood. As twisted as it sounded, you couldn’t help but feel utter pleasure when he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck, the scandalous gulps and slurps, the feel of his wet tongue lapping against your skin. It was all so much- even the mere thought of it had you writhing. However, he never took too much. Just enough, you always knew he was paranoid, claimed he had good control— which he did. There was no lapses or moments where you ever felt unsafe or in danger with him.

“Mm…” he inhales again, “….fuck, you smell exquisite.” You wince with a smile feeling his fangs graze your skin and you whine, “Beomgyu, I swear- I’m in the middle of-“

A brief peck lands on your skin as his hands caress your sides, “I know, I know, sweet healer, you’re in the middle of work. Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself, like a good vampire. Okay? No need to get yourself into a fluster.”

With an exasperated sigh, you resume your work. Your own desires and hungers making the simple task that you do for a living much more difficult to focus on— all the while, your lover clings onto your from behind content to bask in your radiating warmth.

As you pour the grinded mixture into a quaint glass bottle and plug it with a cork, he eases up from you with a stretch, “It’s your birthday soon, right?” Beomgyu asks with a playful gleam in his gaze.

You wrap some twine around the neck of the glass bottle, threading the label through it and you raise a brow, “…yes, why do you ask?” Beomgyu smirks with a shrug resting his hands into his pockets, “Mm, just wanted to spoil my lovely little healer that day. I had a few things in mind.”

“Such as?” You inquire curiously. He walks up to you placing his index finger atop your lips and whispers, “That’s a surprise.”

You scoff, “If it involves carrying me over your shoulder upstairs, and spending the night-“ His eyes twinkle, “Well, I won’t deny that outcome, but aside from that finale, I had a few other things in mind that day. As I said, sweet healer, a surprise.”

You mirror his smirk, “Alright then, Beomgyu. I look forward to it.” You’d be spending your birthday with him, for the first time. No, in fact it would be the first time you’d be spending your birthday, not working alone for once. The notion of this, makes your heart swell.

Beomgyu leans down cupping the back of your head placing a tender kiss on the tip of your nose and then on your lips, “You can wait a few days right?” You hum, “I can be the very picture of patience.” He muses, “Good.”

So, as you said, you waited, went about your days with him in bliss and most importantly anticipation. Indeed, it had been a long time since you were truly excited for your birthday— something you had always considered rather lacklustre, as ordinary as a normal day. But this time, things were different!

And so with great anticipation, you await the day of your birthday.

On that day, you wake up to find your vampiric lover perched on your window sill with a bouquet of fresh roses as the sunlight glimmers across his skin. With a flourish in his steps, he kicks off his boots, falling into your blanket as you wrap your arms around him in an embrace filled with laughter and affection. You take the blood-red roses admiring their beauty.

“Stunning flowers, for my stunning healer, happy birthday, my love,” he murmurs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. The two of you make breakfast, nothing too special, but he was adamant that you closed shop today— claiming today was about you. That you would be fine not working for one day; that you deserve a break.

Reluctantly, you admit, Beomgyu was right. It felt good to not wake up so early, bustle downstairs, shovel your breakfast down and begin working, grinding powders, sifting, boiling and bubbling herbal potions and elixirs.

Putting on your nicest dress, you laugh as he tugs your hand, tugging you along the cobblestone streets pushing past other villagers— some looking at the two of you with disdain, others in envy and some in awe. Two young (well, one young) lovers hand in hand laughing— a perfect sight.

“I have quite the things planned for you,” he muses, squeezing your hand. You beam up at him, “Is that so? The anticipation is killing me!” He leans down, moving a stray strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear with a tender smile (almost tender enough to make you forget what he truly is).

The day starts off with visiting the village bakery, where he buys you the treats that you mentioned you like. The delicious sweet bursts of flavour, butter, sugar and honey with a tinge of vanilla. Perfectly warm and crispy layers which breaks into a satisfying crunch as you bite down.

Followed by him dragging you along to the village market on the outskirts. Beomgyu always knew you enjoyed the various little trinkets and things they brought from other regions, whether it be useful for your occupation or something you personally enjoyed.

Both of you walk hand in hand admiring the various stalls. Pieces of rare jewels, rings and earrings, little bottles, utensils, charms, bowls, lamps, writing quills, cloaks— everything.

You gasp feeling the fabric of one dark blue cloak, “It’s so soft.” The merchant grins, “Fresh off the looks of the south, young lady. Wish to try it on?”

Beomgyu muses, answering before you could, “She would love to, isn’t that right? It’s your birthday, after all?” He glances at you taking the cloak. Beomgyu leans down, swooping the cloak around you, bringing it over your shoulders and hooking the clasp together, face inches from yours. Your heart races as you gaze at him; a dumb grin on your face.

“Birthday, eh? In that case I suppose I can shimmy the price down a little,” the merchant clasps his hands. Beomgyu gazes down at you with an expression of endearment, “You look truly lovely in this.”

“The young man‘s as right as rain, you look lovely,” the merchant gleams, “Now about payment…” Beomgyu and you deadpan as you mutter, “Oh of course. Should have known that compliment wasn’t genuine.” Beomgyu snorts.

You fumble with the clasp to take the cloak off and Beomgyu raises a hand signalling you to halt, as he places a small pouch on the wooden table. “I’ll give you half of what’s in here,” he bargains. The merchant takes a quick peek inside and grimaces, “I don’t know about that young man, this cloak is quite the-“

Beomgyu leans forward cupping his hand over the man’s ear as he whispers something and you see the man pale instantly. Your brows furrow as he abruptly takes the pouch pouring out half, counting the coins and the merchant beams waveringly, “Pleasure doing business with ya!”

Blinking confused, you question Beomgyu who seems to hum pleasantly leading you off. “Did you just pay for this cloak- you didn’t have to-“ He murmurs, “I wanted to.”

Your mind recollects the events and you muse dryly, “He changed his mind quick, what did you tell him?” Beomgyu leans down whispering into your ear, “I told him, I’d rip him limb from limb as soon as the sun sets and he closes up his stall.”

You stiffen peering up at him with a glare, “Beomgyu! I swear-!” The passersby look on at your scolding tone and he throws his head back laughing, “Oh, your expression- priceless!” He chuckles, “I was joking, sweet healer, no need to get in such a panic.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff, “That’s what I thought. So what did, get him scared then?” Beomgyu muses, “You know the tavern I work at right? He’s a regular there. Drinks himself into a babbling fool every night after he closes up his stall here. Told him I’d make sure he’d never get a drink again.”

You sigh; of course that’s all it took for a drunkard to crumble. Shaking your head, you laugh breathlessly, “Seriously…you are something else.” Beomgyu smiles, “Yes, yes, I know little healer, I am a genius,” his expression becomes serious, “But really, I wanted to get you the cloak, you always mentioned how during your little expeditions to the forest, you would feel a little cold, so here. Secondly, I saw the adorable little sparkle in your eyes that you get when you really want something.”

You flush, were you that obvious? He took notice of all your little quirks and mannerisms with such ease? A touching warmth spreads throughout your chest, “Thank you, Beomgyu.” He grins, “You’ll have more to thank me for later, so hold off for now, okay?”

You both spend the day walking around the village enjoying each other’s company. It had been such a long time since you had felt such contentment, such…comfort.

As the sun melts into the horizon, he seems to joy dragging you with him as you pant. “Goodness, Beomgyu… I’m dying for breath here.”

He shushes you, “Oh come now, we’re almost there. You can hike all you want for your herbs but not for me, or for your birthday! This spot is one I’ve just recently discovered whilst hunting for deer.”

You grumble making your way up the faded path, pushing past the brambles and foliage, the steepness increasing gradually. After awhile, he finally pushes through some overhanging branches and vines like curtains and lets you go first.

Your jaw drops ajar as you see the sky, painted dark with sparkles of glitter— the stars. Twinkling and glimmering above. The last vestiges of subtle orange fading away into the horizon and the moon slowly shows itself behind the tuft of grey clouds.

You tilt your head down seeing the village from a slight distance away and you finally figure out where you both were. It was that small little set of cliffs nearby the village overlooking it. You’d never gone there before, fearing it was too much of a climb for you—especially alone. It wasn’t the highest cliff but just enough to see the village with its small hints of light from the houses.

“…so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you sit down on the grass. Beomgyu sits behind you, you scoot yourself back— your back resting against his chest, elbows resting on his thighs. His head on your right shoulder and his strong arms around you.

The subtle sound of your breathing merges with the sounds of the breeze, rustling trees, the hooting owls, chirping crickets and low gargles of toads. It was simply amazing, so serene, so peaceful.

“I love this,” you softly say. Beomgyu mumbles, “I love this too. I figured you would like this spot. I only discovered it a few days ago, I never expected to bring you here— but it just struck me when I sat here two days ago. It would be the perfect way to end off the day.”

“It is,” you breathe, closing your eyes, “It really is.” A pause of comforting silence ensues and you smile, “Thank you for everything, Beomgyu.”

You crane your head to gaze up at him, seeing the gentle moonlight caress his visage in a hauntingly beautiful manner. “Thank you…for doing all this. I never thought any of this was possible for me.”

“Why?” He questions, “You are deserving of love, is everyone not?” Your eyes glisten, “Yes. Yes they are, but it’s unfortunate, this world. Not everyone gets the privilege of it. Of such tender love like this.” You both go silent. Beomgyu cups your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone, “Indeed. Sweet healer, it is as you said. Nevertheless, I am glad I have you.”

He litters kisses down your neck, “All mine.” Beomgyu nuzzles the curve of your neck, “I’m all yours, yes?” A breathy giggle leaves your lips as your hand reaches back up into his luscious brown locks, “Yes, Beomgyu. All mine.”

As you lay your head against his firm chest, you feel his arms leave your sides and your brows furrow going to turn around and he chides playfully, “Stay still, sweet healer. Always in such a flurry.”

“What are you-“ you ask only to see a glistening pendant dangle down in front of your vision before gliding down onto your neck as he fastens the clasp on the back of your neck. The cool metal makes the hairs on your skin rise; your skin prickles with shock and cold.

Your lips quiver as you fiddle with the small pendant. A simple black metal heart. You gaze back at him, eyes watering and spluttering emotionally, “Beomgyu, you already bought me that cloak- the baked good- you spent so much-“

Amused by your babbling, he shushes you softly, “Relax, relax…sweetheart. No need to fret, I had bought this necklace a month back. I had seen another man make a necklace for his wife. I had thought it was a good idea, seeing that you liked jewellery, but often wear the same few.” He touches the heart nestled just above your chest, “This way, you may be reminded of me, even when you go out on those trips of yours. Or when I am not around.”

You glance at his neck, empty. You pout, “I wish we could match.” Beomgyu sighs smiling, “Ah well, one necklace was quite the pretty penny, my lovely healer, so your dear lover must be without a matching necklace,” he muses leaning down, “For now that is.”

You coo, “Then it’s settled, on your birthday then.” Beomgyu smirks, the one you love very much. “Don’t even think about it.” You twist back around, “Too late, we’ll be matching soon enough, or at least before the end of next year.”

Beomgyu snickers, “Far be it from me, to dissuade you.” His hands rest back on your waist and you both continue in tranquil conversation. The air is hazy, flirty and warm; gentle touches and caresses become more daring, his hands sliding and groping gently making you writhe at a loss for breath.

His fingers glide along your bodice, his other trailing down your skirt, gathering up the fabric. Tensions rise, the pent up desire which lingered throughout the day, all bubbling up at once with the moon as your witness.

Beomgyu whispers, “I think one more gift should make things just about perfect, should it not?” You whisper back playfully, “Is that so? What were you thinking?”

He hums, fangs grazing your neck, hands becoming increasingly bold, “Something I know you like very, very much. So do I, in fact.” You reply breathily, “I see, then by all means…” you trail off.

As much as the two of you wished to embrace each other under the stars, secluded in this little haven, it seems nature had different plans. Your quaint little fear of random beetles alongside the mosquitos nipping at you were quite frankly spoiling the heated mood.

You huff as you both walk back grumpily down the path and he snorts, “Easy now, sweet healer, we can have so much more fun back at your place, no? No need to look so down.” You glance at him, sneakily murmuring, “You also looked rather disappointed, you know.”

Beomgyu shrugs, lips cracking into a stupidly wide grin as laughter tumbles out of him, “Well, it is a shame when we were just getting to the good part that a large beetle decides to fly in the midst of our passionate lip lock. That scream,” he cackles almost stumbling over a rock, “Oh- that was hilarious.”

Deadpanning, you rip away your hand with a huff, “Of course it was funny to you, it wasn’t attempting to land on you. Stupid thing. Couldn’t it see we were busy?”

He snickers, “Well, perhaps none of the creatures wanted a show.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as he grabs your hand again, “Tsk, don’t pout, sweet healer. I’ll make up for lost time,” his tone darkens deliciously as he nears your ear.

You both reach the village streets, most had retreated into their homes, of course due to the curfew and fear of the oh so terrifying vampire. The very vampire you were walking hand in hand with. The streets were most empty, a few stray cats and dogs running here and there, one or two people closing their windows.

A few eyes linger your way but nothing is said— they had most likely suspected that you were both returning home. You murmur, “Huh… it really is so quiet out here. Scary actually without a lot of the lights. Once everyone’s shutters are shut, it looks completely different.”

Beomgyu remains unfazed, “It’s alright.” You scoff, “You say that because you hunt at this time. Be it human or animal.” He smirks, “Well, what can I say? My vision is simply superior in the dark. It only makes sense.”

You snicker, “They’ve all gone to bed and shut their windows, because of you. This entire curfew is because of you. To think they’re all scared of you.” His brows furrow, “What’s that supposed to mean? You make it sound as though I am not a predator.”

You pause regarding him from head to toe and he huffs. “Maybe not to you per se, but I am a predator nonetheless.” You shrug walking ahead, intentionally provoking him, “I don’t see it. To be fair, when we first met you actually were a little bit scary, but now, you just seem so soft and-“

Before you could get the words out, you find yourself being tugged into the nearest alley between two houses, wrists pinned beside your head. Beomgyu’s eyes take on a dangerous otherworldly glow, he leans down, “Is that so? We can’t have you forgetting what I am, can we? I seem to recall you relishing when I sink my fangs into your neck and drink that sweet, sweet sanguine nectar, hm?”

You shiver, “So?” You challenge and he smirks devilishly, “Oh no, I meant nothing by it. You’ve always been a little different than your cowardly villagers. Twisted little thing, aren’t you? Not that I mind, of course.”

You tilt your head to the side, your hair falling away from your neck salaciously, you smirk to yourself seeing his gaze flit down to your neck. Beomgyu’s voice huskily hums, “Oh, I see what you’re doing.”

You feign innocence, “Hm?” Beomgyu hums alluringly, “Ah, wanting to get bitten? On your birthday too? My, my, sweet healer, you’re more depraved than I thought.”

Well, you couldn’t help it when it always felt so good— and it almost always led to a rather pleasurable outcome. You shrug, “I don’t know what you mean.” He parts his lips showing his fangs about to sink down before a loud clattering sound shatters the intense moment.

Beomgyu pulls away and you shakily place a hand over your palpitating heart. Wait. You shake your head clearing your mind. What the hell were you two thinking? You were both in public— the streets, whilst rather empty, were not completely free of people. Anyone could have passed by!

You clutch your head panic filling your system, “Beomgyu, we shouldn’t have been so reckless- we got so carried away and if it weren’t for that we’d have foolishly continued-“ you begin rambling. He holds your arms calming you down, “Hey, hey, sweet healer, easy now. Easy. No one saw us. Look?”

He pulls your reluctantly form out of the alley and points toward the crate of bottles that had been tipped over, “Just crate tipped over, probably some stray dog or cat. You know how it is. Look around, not a single person in sight.” Beomgyu squeezes your hands, “But you’re right, we were reckless. Let gets home, don’t worry, okay? We’re okay. We’re okay.”

You nod calming yourself. Thank goodness you didn’t let it continue into him biting down into you. You couldn’t take that chance of any passerby just randomly taking a glimpse in.

As you both arrive at your place, the door slams shut, impassioned kisses, giggles and embraces fill your room as you both wish to carry on where you left off.

As his fangs sink into your soft flesh eliciting a gasp from your lips, you feel the sensation of doubt creep in the back of your consciousness. A crate like that… could it really have been knocked over by a mere cat or dog? It seemed so heavy.

No…it was fine. Beomgyu showed you the empty street— you saw with your own eyes, not a single soul out there. So why were you anxious?

And so, you forcibly shove that thought back into the recesses of your mind, as your hands tangle into his hair as Beomgyu gulps down the heavenly sanguine.

It would be fine.

It would be fine.

That’s what you wish you could say. How wrong you were. The thought, that very thought about the crate being heavy— heavier than a small cat or dog could knock over.

You wished it had been a large dog or something of the sort. Not a person. You both had thought you had been sly, caught yourselves in the alley before you got too reckless.

But no, it was too late. It was too late when you heard the ruckus in the early hours of the morning. A grumbling roar of distress and anger outside your window. You sit up abruptly as you focus on the chants.

“Traitor! Scum! Come out! Come out! Vampire! Vampire!” Your heart drops. This had to be a nightmare!

Various other insults are thrown at your house by what you assume is a large gathering in front of your house ready to barge in at any second. You hear the clatter of metal and wood.

Beomgyu seems to be up already and you see him hastily getting dressed, lacing up his boots. You see the tension in his brow, the shaking of his hands, his shaky breaths. He glances up and he murmurs, “You’re awake. Oh, Y/n…” his voice cracks.

Instantly you find your eyes watering. Indeed, it seemed yesterday really was too good to be true. He rushes over cupping your cheeks, “Get dressed, my love. Look at me. Look at me,” Beomgyu grasps your chin, “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you okay?”

Tears stream down your face as you cover his hands with yours, sobs wracking your body, “Oh Beomgyu, I..” you can barely get the words out as you hyperventilate, “I’m… I can’t believe this— why- we were doing so well-“ He cups the back of your head pulling you in for a tight embrace. You hear the pain in his voice as he soothes you, “I know, I know. I thought…I thought we could keep it a secret too.”

As always, the universe had its cruel way of exposing any and all secrets one way or another. Two foolish lovers who had the gall to be happy with each other.

Beomgyu tilts your head up to meet his gaze and he firmly utters, “Stay focused. We…we need to get out of here.”

The roar of the crowd outside and clattering makes it difficult for him to focus. Your heart pounds as you get up hastily putting on your dress. He paces around, “I… I had thought it was a stray or something, I didn’t expect… someone to have watched us.” Beomgyu threads his fingers stressfully through his locks.

Clumsily, you lace up your boots and gaze at him. Cautiously you make your way to the shutters and ever so slightly peek down. A gasp escapes your lips and your knees buckle at the sight— nearly half the village there in front of your house chanting and roaring, pitchforks and torches in hand as the dangerous hue of dawn paints their faces.

They had one intention. To get rid of the vampire that lurked in the village, your lover.

And then get rid of you. A traitor.

Fraternising with…a demon, a bloodsucker.

“Open the door, herbalist and surrender willingly or we will break in!” A man’s voice bellows— presumably the village head. Quivering, you gaze at Beomgyu, who’s gaze has hardened. Even he looks unsure as to what to do.

He helps you stand with a hand and he finally speaks tensely, “Do you trust me?” You’re caught off guard by the question. Beomgyu repeats, this time more firmly, “Do you trust me, Y/n?”

You nod, the words, “Yes, of course,” leaving your lips breathlessly. He takes your wrist guiding you downstairs and you follow clumsily. You see your back door in the kitchen. Beomgyu snarls seeing them banging on it too— that route wasn’t an option.

Your entire house groans and creaks— any second they were about to barge in, rip him to shreds and do god knows what, to you!

Once again he leads you upstairs; grip borderline painful on your wrist and he opens the shutters wide making your eyes widen and the crowd’s chants fall silent. You stammer, “Beomgyu- what are you-“

Beomgyu’s gaze blazes fiercely into yours, “Take my hand.” You peer at his hand before taking it and he hoists himself onto your rooftop. He pulls you up effortlessly onto the rooftop and you scream as a roof tile falls below but he has you securely in his arms.

The crowds goes into uproar calling you terrible names, calling him a monster, you as his thrall. Panting, he commands, “We are going by rooftop, you hear me? Get on my back.”

He hoists you onto his back and you cling on dearly as he runs with superhuman speed, jumping across the rooftops on your street. The crowd’s roar increases as they follow along in pursuit. You close your eyes wishing to block all this out— you wish the entire earth would swallow you whole.

Why did this entire thing have to happen? Tears wet your cheeks again.

Rooftop to rooftop, he stumbles, patchwork nearly collapsing at one point, roof tiles going flying into the crowd below before he makes a risky jump onto the ground, you both fall to the floor rolling and you hiss in pain, the ground grazing your limbs painfully.

You barely have time to register your injuries as he roughly tugs you up, “Up, up, up!” You cry out as you push yourself to stand and you both run.

You hear the village head again, “Over there, by the arch! They’re headin’ out of the village! Men! Go, go, go!”

You weep and he snarls breathing heavily, “I’ve got you, healer, please, focus, focus for me. Just a little more, just a little- ah, more!” Your legs burn immensely, lungs searing for breath, wind flaps through your hair.

Over-exertion hits you, knees buckling and you sob, “Beomgyu, go- I’m only holding you back,” you cry out, “Just go-“

Anger is visible on his visage and enraged he snaps, “I’m not leaving you for them to punish you, you’re mine. You’re who I love, what lover would I be to sacrifice you for my own escape? Don’t be fucking stupid.”

You sob, shaking your head, “Beomgyu-“ In agitation, he hoists you onto his back and you yelp, clinging onto his neck, “Keep that mouth shut, got that? I’m not leaving you behind.”

With inhumane speed and agility, he winds his way through the trees. You realise where he’s taking the both of you, winding up the familiar harsh terrain. That spot on the cliff, notoriously hard to reach. The people would struggle and it would give you enough time to at least gather yourselves, see where you should head next.

You gaze behind, the crowd no longer in view, their sound growing fainter and fainter and soon you both stand in the same spot. The morning sun in full shine. You hug him tightly, “Beomgyu…” He hugs you back littering your forehead with kisses of desperation, “I know.” You whimper, “They’ll kill you. They’ll kill you, Beomgyu. I can’t…”

Beomgyu caresses the back of your head murmuring, “You don’t think it’s that easy, do you? I don’t die easy. Unless they have got silver or a huge stake, neither of which I saw in that crowd.” He peers down at you cupping your cheek, “Maybe garlic perhaps, the real weapon.”

Harshly, you smack his arm, sniffling, “Now’s not the time for joking.” He smiles painfully, “Alright, alright, but they’re definitely struggling up the incline that’s for sure. I don’t think they saw where we went, it’s hard to see in that dense foliage anyway. We have a little breathing room.”

You murmur, “I don’t want to risk it. We’ve got to get moving. Not everyone is going to give up so quickly, Beomgyu. There’ll definitely be a few who attempt to come up here. We’ve got to move.”

Beomgyu nods, gaze hardening, “Yes, if I remember, there’s another town just to the East,” he points out over a rocky outcrop, a faint path leading into some woods, he continues speaking, “We can’t stay there for long, they’re awfully weary of vampires in that town, but it’s ideal for a night’s stay. Then, in the morning, we can journey up further East. There’s a few more villages and towns that way—following the river. The further we get, the better. North is out of the question-“

As he speaks your gaze flits to behind him and you feel your entire soul leaving your body as you see a small glimmer in the foliage and before the scream leaves your mouth, the arrow coated in a metallic substance flies and swivels elegantly in the air.

You instinctively shove Beomgyu out of the way, almost off the cliff— the arrow missing him just enough to lodge itself into your neck. A choked gargle escapes your throat and you feel a metallic iron taste fill your mouth.

The village head scraped up and bruised tumbles out of the foliage with his bow in hand, a few more arrows ready.

Beomgyu freezes for a moment— gaze flitting between the village head and you. His lips part, but no breath escapes him. The village head bellows, “You foolish woman— that was meant for the vampire! No matter—“ He sheathes another arrow positioning it— but before he could even aim it, you see red.

Red, a lot of red. Your knees buckle. You gaze at the liquid dripping down your chest, a bloody mixture of silver and blood. Blood drips down your chin—- vision blurring.

Truly, you were a fool. Most of those in love were fools. He could have handled that himself, why did you play the hero? You didn’t know.

Your body just instinctively moved by itself. How stupid, to protect him. Protect what? A vampire? You knew silver was a poison— leading to deaths for vampires if not treated.

So? Did you really have to push him aside and get it shot in you instead?

You see more red, this time not your own. Your vision goes in and out of focus as you witness Beomgyu like you’ve never seen before.

Blood spraying, agonising screams, flesh tearing, bone snapping, disgusting squelches. You gather from the image in front of you, just how vicious your lover could be when he wanted to.

From the disheveled locks partially covering his gleaming dark red irises like some sort of veil of death to his hands covered and dripping in blood and god knows what else of what was left of the village head.

Beomgyu saw red and so did you. He killed right in front of you. Tore a man limb from limb. For you.

Tears drip down your face from the searing pain; you collapse onto your side making his head snap toward you, breaking him out of his bloodthirsty rampage.

Within seconds, he’s by your side cradling your weakened form, curses falling from his lips, enraged words aimed at the humans from the village. His voice cracks, “Oh my sweet, sweet healer, why? You are so…” he closes his eyes bellying his anger, “I told you, I could handle it. Handle everything. Why couldn’t you just sit back? Did you not think I…” he chokes up.

Beomgyu sniffles as tears run down his icy blood splattered cheeks, “You fool. You fucking fool, I can’t believe…” he clutches you, “Those fucking bastards, arrows coated with silver.”

You weakly gaze up at him, unable to move, unable to speak, not even a pitiful rasp. All you could do was stare up at his pretty face.

Perhaps, this was fate, you think. How it was meant to be, your consequences of mingling with the supernatural, not staying within your confines. He gazes at your neck and you see his red eyes darken, fangs glistening. You wonder, what was he thinking?

Finally, your vision goes dark— you don’t seem to be hurting anymore, rather you feel as though you’re wrapped in a cold embrace, on a winter’s night. Frigid, alone but painless.

As you go limp in his arms, panic surges in Beomgyu’s system, as he shakes you. He splutters, voice shattering, “No, no, no,” he pants out, “Wake up, fucking wake up.”

Beomgyu gazes down at your neck. He couldn’t let you go. He didn’t know… would you be content to die, or would you be happy to join him in his eternal prison of immortality?

He couldn’t ask you—- what would you want? Did you love him so dearly you’d be willing to spend an eternity with him? Was he delusional to think that way?

Was he selfish for what he was about to do? Would you hate him for turning you into what he was? He didn’t care. He wanted to see you alive, or alive in at least some sense of the word.

Was it a punishment or renewal? So, so many questions. But with each second, his chances of saving you were slim.

Thus, Beomgyu leans down, with a grimace he pulls the arrow out, blood spurting onto the grass. He whispers, placing a kiss atop your head, “I’m sorry, my dearest healer, for what I am about to do. Forgive me.”

With that, his fangs sink into the other side of your neck, as his hand cradles the back of your head. He gulps, downing every drop of your life source, the rich flavour he once craved now seeming horridly bitter. Tears roll down his face as he continues drinking and draining you of your blood.

Tormented apologies mentally scream in his mind as he resumes his onslaught. Would you hate him for this? Would you have preferred death?

Rustling occurs behind him but he doesn’t care. He had to drain you before the warmth left your body, before your systems shut off completely.

A few men poke their heads out of the foliage and stumble back mortified at the bloody scene, what was left of their leader, the sight of Beomgyu feeding mercilessly on what seemed to them as your corpse.

It was enough to have them running off, wretching and almost fainting. Let them run for now. He’d hunt down each one of them if this did not work out. Make everyone of these foolish villagers pay.

With a final grunt, he pulls away, gazing down at your lifeless body; stiff and pale. Only the tiniest hint of blood left in you.

Beomgyu grunts, taking your body into his arms and he begins walking, he needs to get you somewhere to rest, to be without stress or threat. Would you even wake up? He didn’t know, did he take too much? There had to be just enough left— he had never drained someone before, never turned someone.

If you did never wake up— he’d never forgive himself. Taking your blood on top of that for no real outcome. He shudders at the thought. No. You had to.

Hours pass, darkness, utter silence. Nothingness. The crackling of fire in the distance soon arises, a faint breeze brushing against your skin makes you writhe. One by one, you could feel your face, your limbs.

One by one, more and more noises around you pile up, layering atop one another, your senses fall back into place and you feel your chest grow not warm, but deathly cold.

Finally, as your lungs will with air, you inhale as deeply as you possibly could.

“Y/n! Y/n- oh my god, Y/n- you’re breathing,” a muffled voice resounds and instantly your eyes snap open. You sit up abruptly clutching your chest.

Your heart- wait, your heart.

You feel your chest as you pant raggedly for breath. No heartbeat. Your skin…no longer that comforting warmth. Your ears ring painfully and memories flood your consciousness as you groan clutching your head.

“Gently now, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, oh goodness, Y/n. My sweet healer, my love,” you hear the presence beside you call out cradling you in his icy arms. You glance up wearily and see him.

Choi Beomgyu.

His eyes glistening, a single tear drips down. He was crying. The orange hues of the crackling fire paint his face as he cups your cold cheek, “You’re alive. I… I didn’t think you’d make it. I-I thought I took too much.”

Took too much? You glance at your hands. You gasp— your neck! The arrow. You feel your neck feeling no scab, no injury. “My injury… Beomgyu-“ you stammer. He glances at you in silence as he takes your hands, “Y/n…I..”

Your body lacks warmth, your heart no longer beats, there’s a scratchy dryness in the back of your throat. Your horrendous injury, now, miraculously healed without so much as a scar or scab.

The pieces click into place forming an astounding conclusion. You whisper, afraid, “You…you, turned me?”

His silence has all the answers you need. You glance down at your hands, you were…alive. That meant you had experienced death.

He had brought you back…this time to the land of the undead. Of the immortal.

You were one of the same.

Beomgyu’s voice cracks, “You must despise me for making that choice for you. I… I couldn’t-“ he struggles to get the words out, “I couldn’t let you die. I couldn’t stand the thought of your life being taken.” He gazes at you with such a pained gaze, “I love you, I love you far too much to let you go, is that too selfish of me? Did I bring you back against your wishes?”

Your lips part, words not coming out, as you tremble, tears dripping down your cheeks at the impassioned words. He murmurs weakly, “Forgive me, my sweet healer, for being so selfish. You have all the reasons to despise me. But…I just couldn’t…couldn’t let you die.”

You sadly smile wiping away his tears with your thumbs, “I don’t hate you, you fool. You saved me.” His eyes widen, going speechless; lower lip quivering at your words. You sniffle with a wavering laugh, “I…I’m surprised, I… I would have never thought you’d turn me. I thought you’d never cross that boundary just because,” your voice cracks, “just because it’s me.”

He presses his forehead to yours chidingly, “I’d have no need to do such a thing if you did not play hero, you idiot,” he sighs pained, “Do you understand how horrible it was to see you bleeding out, life draining from your eyes? With an arrow meant for me? Not you?”

You cup his cheek nuzzling his nose with yours, “I know…I should have stayed down. I’m sorry for scaring you, Beomgyu.” He trembles, “I…having to drain you, I..” he murmurs shakily, “Never again. Never again.”

All of a sudden, Beomgyu embraces you tightly, his head in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you, sweet healer,” he breathes. You cup his cheek shakily, “You need not be sorry, Beomgyu. It was them.”

For a few minutes you stay like this, in each other’s arms, sat atop a log beside a fire. You gaze up at the forest foliage above, you had many questions as to how you got here, how long had you been out. But for now, you were simply content to be in his arms, with him.

Beomgyu whispers, “Your life…that you left behind, your precious little shop, my sweet healer. You left that behind because of me, I’m so sorry. We’ll… we’ll set up a new one elsewhere, far away. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your cold lips press a kiss onto his own before you wearily gaze into his eyes, “I know you will. But for now, Beomgyu. One step at a time.” You shift yourself to lean against his chest, “I feel tired.”

He hums softly, “Then sleep. I’ll be there for you when the dawn next comes. And the next, and for many more.”

You muse half deliriously from drowsiness, “Until the end of time?” A scoff leaves his lips at your audacity, not even having fed, a newborn vampire at best and yet…

Beomgyu smiles tenderly as he repeats in assertion, “Until the end of time, sweet healer. Until the end of time. Always and forever.”

Taglist:

@beomnioa @gyu-tori @immelissaaa @haowonbins @hyunelixbun @woncheecks @dalkom-han @tyongluvs @tubaturighthere @lun4mizuka @blazesimps @usuallyunlikelyfox

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Dude. I have an idea.

Imagine a gn blind!Reader with yandere!Sonic or Silver, like— blind reader is so very dependent on them and always ask for help when needed, and the yandere is taking advantage of that..😈

This can be romantic or platonic, it's fine.

A/n: these are kind of crappy.

Yandere!Sonic/Silver x Blind!Reader

Sonic:

At first, he genuinely wanted to help. He offered to guide you across uneven terrain, described the world around you in vibrant detail, and chased away anyone who dared to make fun of your condition.

Over time however, that innocent desire shifted.

Sonic loved being someone you trusted. He slowly gound out jw lived being the *only* one you trusted, the only one you could rely on. He thrived on the way you clung to him when you were nervous, the way your voice softened when you asked for his help.

"Hey, Sonic," you called one afternoon, sitting on a bench in the park. "Could you describe the sunset for me again?"

Sonic’s ears perked up. He was there in an instant, sliding onto the bench beside you.

"Of course," he said, his voice gentle. "Right now, the sun is dipping down, and the light is more tinted a different shade. And its a but more dark right now. Half of the sun is jnder the horizon, so only the top half is peeking out."

You smiled, leaning closer to him. "Thanks."

He resisted the urge to wrap an arm around you, though it was getting harder to control himself these days.

He wanted you to rely on him for everything, to need him so completely that you couldn’t imagine life without him. It was messed up.. He could admit that.. But really, it would be better no? I mean, who else could take care of you better than him?

The opportunity came one stormy evening when you lost your eye dog, you do t know what happened to hin, one meoment he was there, and the next, gone. Panicked and vulnerable, you called Sonic for help, your voice trembling over the phone.

"Don’t worry," he said. "I’ll take care of you."

When Sonic came, he promised to look for your dog, that he would return him if he saw it roaming around. He's glad you couldn't see the guily look on his face.

From that night on, Sonic began to subtly sabotage your independence. He "accidentally" misplaced your cane, always made sure you were too distracted to practice using your other senses, and convinced you that the world outside was dangerous without him. He wanted you to think of him as your hero, your savior, your everything.

"You don’t need anyone else," he whispered one night as you sat together on your couch, his arm finally draped around your shoulders. "I’ll always be here for you."

And you believed him, why wouldn't you? He was your best friend, only wanted the best for you... Right?

Silver:

It started with small things, helping you navigate unfamiliar spaces, holding your hand a little longer than necessary, and offering to read aloud to you when you couldn’t access certain books.

He cherished the way you trusted him, the way you leaned into his touch and smiled so sweetly when he guided you.

"Silver," you said one day, your voice uncertain. "Do you think I’m a burden? I feel like I ask you for help too often."

Silver immediately shook his head, forgetting for a moment that you couldn’t see him. "No! Never. You could never be a burden," he said, his voice almost desperate. "I *want* to help you."

You gave a smile "thanks, i just get worried sometimes." Goodness... He loved that smile so much...

He began to manipulate your environment, quietly isolating you from others. He’d "accidentally" forget to pass along messages from friends or make excuses when they wanted to visit.

When you asked for help with tasks, he’d exaggerate how difficult or dangerous they were.

"Let me handle it," he’d say, his tone soft. "I don’t want you to get hurt."

One day, you mentioned wanting to get an eye dog, you thought itd be best as tou were mainly relying on your caine amd silver to get around. Silver froze, his mind racing. The thought of you not needing him anymore was unbearable.

"You don’t have to do that," he said quickly. "I mean, why put yourself through all that trouble when I’m here? I’ll always take care of you."

And you believed him, i mean, he was always helping you, he was probably right.

However you were unaware of how tightly he was wrapping himself around your life. Silver was always there, watching, "protecting", and ensuring that no one ̶could steal you from him hurt you.

To him, your blindness wasn’t a limitation, it was an opportunity to become the center of your world. And he wasn’t about to let anyone, or anything, take that away.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

Seventeen as Chinese Idioms 🥢 :

Scoups: Love the house with its crows (ài wū jí wū) Meaning: Loving people as they are/ with their flaws Scoups is the epitome of fully and utterly loving someone. Flaws? Weaknesses? Those are what makes you who you are. If those were 'fixed' you would not be the same person to him.

Jeonghan: The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind (tángláng bǔ chán, huángquè zài hòu) Meaning: Not realizing the hidden danger when focusing on small gains Jeonghan is someone who looks at the big picture in any situation. He is always ready to threaten, cajole, plead, adapt, compromise, etc. to achieve his goal. Here, he is the oriole or the hidden danger. He waits till only one move will ensure his victory.

Joshua: When the sandpiper and the clam fight each other, it’s the fisherman who benefits (yù bàng xiāngzhēng, yúwēng dé lì) Meaning: To take advantage of a situation/conflict Joshua works harder and smarter. Why bother to get into a troublesome situation when he is going to win either way? He values his peace way too much. If you watched nana tour, you would see that both him and Jeonghan wanted to destroy Mingyu's meringue but when Jeonghan splashed a tub of water on Mingyu, Joshua just ran away :3 He is not getting into a fight, thank you very much.

Jun: A crane in a flock of chickens (hè lì jī qún) Meaning: An astounding person in a room full of mediocre ones Three words can explain this idiom perfectly: Jun's stage presence. Even if we forget everything else, his stage presence is out of this world. Carats are so lucky that Jun chose to debut in Seventeen instead of becoming a full-time actor.

Hoshi: A lion uses its full strength even when hunting a rabbit (shīzi bǔ tù, yì yòng quánlì) Meaning: Giving your best effort in everything Hoshi gives 200 percent energy in everything. Dance practice? Stage performance? Going seventeen episode? Some random skit? Tiktok challenges? He never underestimates anything related to his career as an idol and he even gives his all into having fun. He is one of a kind.

Wonwoo: Those who eat with one chopstick will stay hungry (yòng yīgè kuàizi chīfàn de rén shì è de) Meaning: Finding balance in life It's one of my favourite Chinese sayings. Food is meant to be eaten with two chopsticks and life is meant to be lived in a measured way. Nothing too extreme or too unbalanced. And Wonwoo is someone who understands how to balance his public life and private life. He surrounds himself with lots of hobbies and yet no one will catch him slacking when it comes to his career.

Woozi: Having love, drinking water will fill you up, without love, eating food will leave you hungry (yǒuqíng yǐnshuǐ bǎo, wúqíng shí fàn jī) Meaning: Love makes everything bearable Jihoon has so much love to give and it shows when he looks at his members and in his songs. He is the epitome of sharing hardship and happiness together. He is not afraid to work from the bottom if it is for someone/something he loves.

Dokyeom: Freezing into three feet depth can’t be done in one day (bīngdòng sān chǐ, fēi yī rì zhī hán) Meaning: Taking things step by step/ Rome was not built in a day If this idiom doesn't describe Dokyeom, I don't know who else it does. He has been constantly taking vocal lessons for more than ten years. He practices his vocal exercises everyday. Dokyeom does not give up nor does he rush. He improves at his own pace.

Mingyu: Fall in the moat and you’ll be wiser next time (chī yī qiàn , cháng yī zhì) Meaning: When one makes a mistake, one knows what to avoid Here, I was leaning more into how Mingyu wants to experience everything even once. Maybe some of them were bad experiences or maybe in hindsight he realized that some of them were mistakes. But I don't think he still regrets anything though. He lives in the moment.

Minghao: Cherish a broom as if it was gold (jiā yǒu bì zhǒu, xiǎng zhī qiānjīn) Meaning: Appreciating small things in life Minghao's mindset of finding joy in small things is one of my favourite things about him. His aura screams contentment and mindfulness. I truly believe that he, literally, cherishes his broom/vacuum as if it was gold.

Seungkwan: Three parts fate, seven parts hard work.” (sān fēn tiān zhù dìng, qī fēn kào dǎ pīn) Meaning: While destiny is written, it still depends on you Everyone knows how hard Seungkwan promoted Seventeen when they were rookies. He is the personification of hard work. Fate has nothing on him. He would fistfight it if he could.

Vernon: Pretending to be a Pig to eat a Tiger (bàn zhū chī lǎo​hǔ) Meaning: Hiding one's real strength Most of the time Vernon trends for being funny or for 'Vernon-ing' but not for his skills or talents. I am not saying people don't appreciate him or that he is actively hiding himself. It's just he is not known for them. He writes, produces, sings and his rap flow is so unique. He was almost in the performance unit!! Man is so underrated, I swear.

Chan: Crouching Tigers, Hidden Dragons (wòhǔ cáng lóng) Meaning: Talented people hiding from view Chan has a Santa alter ago and his magic bag is hiding all the skills Chan has. Cause what do you mean he can act, sing, dance, rap, be a professional comedian AND play the piano. He is chronically offline because his real life goal is to be the best in everything!! Every new thing I learn sends a shock to my system.

[fharzai]

To be crushed between Alrik and a hard, creaking table was a euphoric experience Fharzai never thought achievable. He couldn't move, could only breathe in the scent of their sex and sweat, rendering the endless pistoning into his guts a devastation he would not soon forget. Each thrust made an intense impact, and each impact reverberated through Fharzai's body without any excess movement allowed to lessen the blows. He was made to come to terms with the upper bounds of Alrik's power and could only return it with frantic kisses of his own.

Every noise that thundered from Alrik's chest into his body felt like a declaration, every harsh grasp on his hair or flesh felt like a promise. Every blast of cum that surged deep into his hole felt like a cannon exploding inside of him. Months of dream fondling and whispered desires released in a flurry of passion, one that made the waiting worth it. He thought the witch had shown him everything he could offer in their shared dreamscape, but Fharzai was proven wrong. The noises he made as Alrik filled his ass to the brim would make even the most courtesans blush, for his release came from receiving the fertile warmth that had built up from the giant balls currently crushing his taint. Whatever fluid remained in his swinging cock got pumped out and added to the puddle on the floor beneath him, finally exhausting Fharzai so that he went completely limp beneath Alrik.

Dazed from getting so thoroughly seeded and plugged, he hadn't even realized how tightly he'd been clenched around Alrik's giant-sized length until he felt every inch drag out of him one last time. A sloppy, suction-y pop! signified their separation, and Fharzai's twitching gape was left grasping at air once Alrik withdrew. The druid trembled and groaned, finding it hard to remember how to exist without a massive dick in his ass, the feeling of emptiness only made better by the sensation of geyser-like loads sloshing around his insides. He was by far too sensitive to feel a tongue lap at whatever leaked out, twitching and mewling as Alrik overstimulated him. Still, the lewd moan he let out when their mouths connected and Fharzai could taste them both on his tongue showed that even in his obliterated state, too much was never enough where the witch was concerned.

Fharzai was in no state to do much but be held and carried, the sting of Alrik's heavy-handed spanks bringing a smile to his face as he was laid down gently. "I love you too, more than I should've allowed myself too. I've fallen for you in a way I should've stopped a long time ago," Fharzai says warmly, his fingertips lazily stroking over Alrik's tattoo-covered arm. Even now, he had to mind himself. Fucked sensless as he was, it'd be too easy to let slip something that could impact Fate. Alrik was that important to the pattern, he could see it as clearly as he could see the truth of what the witch's heart contained. There was no coming back from this, Fharzai was positively tethered to this era thanks to Alrik. Hearing the hoarseness in the witch's voice brought a grin to the druid's face, he'd never forget how that throat felt. "If you want to apologize for something, apologize for not fucking me right through that table. Perhaps a goal for next time?" he responds before biting his lip, his own voice hoarse from all the wailing. Once his body soaked up all that ogre seed he was just fertilized with, he'd probably be ready for his next load. "The marks you left on me prove how you feel. Each one will be cherished, but each one will be healed. I'll need to go into the dream realm to recover, and once I do my flesh will be a blank slate for new ones to be added. You are … quite the man, Alrik Hart."

Skin to skin, their heartbeats intertwined. Alrik splayed his body against Fharzai's as rampant ministrations transformed into something more desperate.

Each brush of Alrik's lips fell against Fharzai's with a mournful plea, as if to say: please don't leave. Alrik's hand slipped over Fharzai's and drew it over his lover's den of rampant curls; palm-to-palm, his fingers intertwined with the man beneath him. Another silent cry carried on a groan that flourished from Alrik's barrel chest and landed against the ridges of Fharzai's tongue. This was to say: I can't become what you'd leave behind.

Alrik's body stilled despite how his body begged him to ravage and rampage. Countless miles through the wasteland, he'd traveled through blight and cold; outrunning magi, beasts, and darkspawn. Scaled the palace to feel the heat of Fharzai's walls closing around him as if to lock him in. As in all things where the witch was concerned, Alrik's dark eyes were intense and focused. The gray hues of Fharzai's stare held universes, breaths were drawn together with the untamed emotion surging within him.

Deeper, harder, holding fast.

Rough hands clenched a bit tighter, threaded fingers and a stable grip held Fharzai's hip with reverent devotion. Belied strength tied one to the other as a rough grunt juxtaposed the tenderness of the moment - another, and then a third. Beyond dreams and sewn into tender flesh, a rough-hewn garden tilled and fertilized, Alrik felt the entirety of his great frame quiver.

With a final, shallow, consuming thrust, Alrik fucked the last of his seed into Fharzai's blasted hole. A spasm rippled from the top of Alrik's spine to the balls of his feet, his leg quivered and nearly buckled before a lazy grin spilled across his lips. Slowly, carefully, and uncommonly tender, Alrik withdrew from Fharzai to kneel for the druid once more. The languid draw of his tongue against the devastation he'd reaped drew what little of himself had escaped; a gift he brought back to Fharzai's tongue as he passed it between them.

"I love you."

It spilled from Alrik's lips before he could identify the source but that did nothing to belittle the sincerity. He'd said those words scarcely; when he was a child the witch had taken them entirely for granted, believing that love was the sort of resource that never ran low. Fragile and finite, it wasn't until what he'd known of it was torn in two that Alrik came to understand the nature of the weakness something like love could invoke.

Alrik punctuated this by brushing his fingers through Fharzai's hair as his body rode out the aftershock of his orgasm. Cock firm but limpening between his thighs before his sweat-soaked frame stood to full height and an affectionate hand drew itself across the other's abdomen. Fharzai's study lacked a bed but the chaise would do better than the table as Alrik gathered him into his arms and laid the druid down with measured care. He noted the fingerprints he'd left behind and knew that each would leave a bruise, a sheepish smile bloomed as he stroked one. His voice was still hoarse when an apology fell from his lips, "Sorry about these.'

[spaceratprodigy]

🎉✨💙💖 Maril and Mina 💖💙✨🎉

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @fairymistrose !! ily ily ily 💕

Commission Info | Ko-Fi | My Links

[amelikos]

Friede casually praising Orio and saying she made the best airship in the world was cute.

[partangel]

hanging out with my coworkers is such a delight miss me with that i hate my coworkers lifestyle i go out to drink sangria with mine to simultaneously juggle conversations between ingmar bergmans daughter, stand up comedy bits, the question of how much is lost in translating ancient greek and planning on how to steal passion fruit that was ripe for the taking in this very specific open space

[adiraargent]

In a world full of boys, he's a gentleman <3

Synopsis: the Slytherin boys and the 'gentleman' things they do Warnings: None :) Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Tom Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Jasper Rowle

This is Part 1 :)

Mattheo Riddle: opening doors for you

"Hey there, my love," Mattheo greeted, flashing a grin as he held the door open for you. You rolled your eyes playfully at the endearment, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at your boyfriend.

"Always the gentleman, huh?" you teased, stepping through the door of the Slytherin common room as he held open with a light chuckle.

"Hey, gotta treat my girl right," he replied, trailing behind and falling into step beside you. He nudged you gently with his elbow, his laid-back demeanor effortlessly charming.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. His lips lingered for a moment, and you couldn't help but blush at the tenderness of the gesture. "You're my everything," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

Whether they were heading to class, grabbing a bite to eat, or just strolling through the castle halls, Mattheo made it a point to hold doors open for you. It wasn't a grand gesture, just a simple act of courtesy, but it spoke volumes about his thoughtfulness.

"You spoil me too much, you know that?" you remarked with a grin, as Mattheo held the door of his dorm for you.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Can't help it. You deserve the world," he shrugged, following you inside. He wrapped his arms around your waist, playfully throwing you on the bed before snuggling up next to you, holding you tightly against his chest.

Their laughter filled the air as they chatted about anything and everything, discussing everything from stupid things their friends had done recently to their favourite movies. Mattheo listened intently, his eyes lighting up as they shared their stories.

Theodore Nott: Holds your face with both hands when kissing you

"Hey," Theodore greeted softly, his fingers trailing gently along your jawline before cupping your face tenderly, drawing you into a sweet kiss. His touch was always gentle, his palms cradling your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in his world.

"Hi," you whispered against his lips, smiling as he leaned in to press another soft kiss, his touch grounding and comforting.

"Did you have a good day?" Theodore asked, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he held your face in his hands.

"Mmm, it was alright. Nothing compared to this though," you replied, your voice softening as he leaned in for another kiss, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still cupping your face, his eyes filled with warmth as he gazed at you. "You always make everything better."

"You too," you said, feeling a surge of affection as his touch lingered, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin.

"Can I just kiss you forever?" he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, his touch never leaving your face.

"That sounds like a plan," you chuckled, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, grounding you in the moment.

As he leaned in for another kiss, his hands framed your face once more, holding you gently but firmly, his touch sending a rush of warmth through you. Each kiss felt like a silent declaration of his love and care, his hands a constant reassurance that you were cherished.

"Promise me something," he said softly, his gaze intense as he held your face in his hands, his touch so tender it made your heart flutter.

"Anything," you replied, feeling a rush of emotion at the sincerity in his eyes.

"Promise you'll never forget how much you mean to me," he whispered, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin.

"I promise," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings.

Theodore smiled, his touch becoming even more gentle, as if he was memorizing every contour of your face. "I love you," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I love you too," you replied, feeling a surge of emotion as his hands cradled your face.

Tom Riddle: Subtle things to make sure you don't get hurt

In the midst of a quiet classroom, Tom and you sat side by side, the ambiance filled with the hushed tones of a lecture. You were unconsciously fiddling with your quill as your tired eyes lingered on the teacher, doing your best to listen to whatever he was saying.

A small sigh slipt from your lips as your dropped your quill, the small object rolling under your desk. As you leaned down to retrieve your quill, Tom subtly shifted, his hand discreetly finding its place at the edge of the desk, ensuring you wouldn't hit your head upon rising.

"Thanks love," you whispered, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment, noticing the faint blush that graced his cheeks as he quickly looked away.

"Wouldn't want you getting hurt," he murmured, his voice barely audible, trying to cloak his concern with an air of indifference as his eyes went back to the teacher.

"I appreciate it," you replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips, acknowledging his unspoken worry.

Throughout the class, the subtle ways Tom looked out for you were apparent. Whether adjusting his posture to prevent you from bumping elbows or discreetly sliding a book closer to your reach, his actions spoke louder than his reserved words.

As the lesson progressed, you dropped a parchment, and before you could react, Tom swiftly picked it up without a word, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a hint of concern before retreating into his usual stoic demeanor.

"Thanks," you said, your voice warm with gratitude, feeling the corners of his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile before he composed himself.

"Merlin you're an idiot," he mumbled under his breath, a small smile twitching on the corner of his lips. He loved you, and he did his best to show it. To some, these may just seem like small gestures, but to you, these acts meant everything.

Blaise Zabini: Looking after you while you are sick

"Blaise, I think I'm dying," you groaned, your voice muffled by the mountain of blankets you'd buried yourself under. The room echoed with your misery, and you could practically feel Blaise's amused gaze on you.

"Quite the melodrama you've got going on there," he chuckled, entering the room with a tray in hand.

You peeked out from under the blankets, giving him a weak glare. "This is not melodrama. I'm genuinely dying. I might need to write my will."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Last I checked, you're broke. And if you're going to die, at least wait until you've cleaned up the mess in the bathroom."

You shot him a scowl before returning to your cocoon of misery. "I'll have you know that this is a serious illness. I even got Pansy to get me a book from the library so I can read about my symptoms."

He set the tray on the bedside table, glancing at you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. "And let me guess, according to Dr. know it all, you have a rare tropical disease only found in the depths of the Amazon rainforest?"

"No, it says I have a severe case of man flu," you deadpanned, voice muffled by the blankets.

Blaise burst into laughter. "Man flu? Really?"

You shot him a glare from under the covers.

He shook his head, still chuckling. "Ok, ok. I come bearing gifts to nurse you back to health."

He lifted the tray to reveal a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of hot tea. Your eyes lit up, and you managed to sit up, sniffling pathetically.

"Ah, the healing powers of chicken soup," he declared dramatically, handing you the bowl.

You took it gratefully, inhaling the comforting aroma. "You're the best, you know that?"

"I try," he said with a wink, settling onto the bed beside you. "Now, eat up. We can't have you wasting away on my watch."

As you sipped the soup, Blaise watched you with a soft smile. "Feeling a bit better already?"

You nodded, the warmth of the soup soothing both your throat and your mood. "Maybe I won't die today after all."

He chuckled, running a hand through your hair. "Good to know. I was planning on having a quiet night in, not attending a funeral."

You swatted him playfully, earning a smirk from Blaise. "You're lucky I'm too weak to defend myself properly."

"Consider it a mercy on my part," he teased, taking a sip of his own tea.

As the night wore on, Blaise stayed by your side, occasionally offering more soup, fetching tissues, and regaling you with stories to keep your mind off your misery.

"You're surprisingly good at this whole nurse thing," you admitted, snuggling into the blankets.

He grinned, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Well, when the patient is you, it's almost enjoyable."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. "I must be really sick for you to admit that."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. "Maybe you're just bringing out my softer side."

You sighed dramatically. "I never signed up for a softer Blaise Zabini."

"Too late now," he replied with a smirk, holding you a little tighter. "You're stuck with me, even if I have to nurse you back to health every now and then."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling grateful for the care and comfort he provided. "I suppose I can live with that."

And as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in blankets and the warmth of Blaise's presence, you couldn't help but feel that maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all, especially when you had someone like him to take care of you.

(This is my favourite for sure)

Jasper Rowle: Doing your shoelaces

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow into the room as you and Jasper sat comfortably on a bench in Hogsmede just of to the side of Zonko's, enjoying a leisurely stroll that had turned into a serene moment of shared silence.

"Oops," you pouted, looking down at your untied shoelaces, a small sigh falling from your lips as you went to go and tie your laces.

"I've got it darlin'," Jasper said with a gentle smile, bending down on one knee before her.

"Jasper, you really don't have to," you protested, a faint blush gracing your cheeks at the unexpected gesture.

He shook his head with a grin, his fingers deftly working on your shoelaces. "I've got it, can't have my girl tripping on her own shoelaces, can I?"

You chuckled softly, unable to hide your affectionate smile as you watched him tie the laces with care. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

He glanced up at her with a warm smile. "'Just don't want you getting hurt."

As he finished, he ran his thumb over your knee softly a few times before standing up and placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head, causing your heart to flutter. The simple act filled you with warmth and adoration.

"Thank you," you murmured, touched by his gesture.

"Anytime, my love."

Their fingers intertwined as they resumed their stroll through Hogsmede, the cool breeze carrying the faint scent of baked goods, more than likely from a stall near by. The world seemed to slow down around them as they walked hand in hand, enjoying each other's company.

Hi all! This is my first post, hope you enjoyed it :) I take requests for many different fandoms and characters <3

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

꒰ What are you looking for within a partner outside of worldly distractions, personal insecurities and limiting beliefs? ꒱

Your ideal type is someone who thinks that life is tasteless without you. You want them to have undergone the lowest of lows in life because you think that they’ll be able to connect with you well if that’s the case. You’re someone who wants to be pursued and you want them to be sort of self conscious when it comes to you because they care about what you think of them. You want them to value long term connections and to have a pure mind i.e. be someone who doesn’t lead anyone on and only does long term connections. You honestly want them to share such a connection only with you. You want them to be someone who’s first kiss, first time, everything was delayed until they met you and they got to experience it all with you. You want them to not have connections progressed enough for any sort of seriousness. You also want them to be focused on their career and save certain things for their forever person, and open their heart to you and only you. You want them to be very generous when it comes to you. You want them to want to give you things, you want them to want you bad enough to pursue you, to earn your approval and to win your trust, and love, even if they’re risking wasting their time. You want them to be someone who doesn’t give their heart away to others, is focused on their career and puts themself first but is generous with you, has time for you and becomes open, and vulnerable with you. You don’t want them to be holding onto any memory with any one of the past and to cherish you, and only you. The concept of a ‘first love that they can’t forget’ and ‘the one that got away’ makes you sick to the stomach, and makes you want to throw up. You want them to be slightly possessive of you and codependent on you honestly. You want them to be someone who doesn’t mind being blunt, sarcastic and rude with others if the need is there. You want them to be charming but in a way where it’s sort of a miscommunication and they never intended for things to be taken a certain way. You want them to know how to get what they want from the world simply because they’re too charismatic with their words. You want them to be extremely aware of what’s going on around them, possibly to the point of hyper vigilance but to still act distant and flighty to others. You want them to question their belief systems, values, actions and way of life, and to be someone who is able to deal with major upheavals without much of a reaction to them. You want them to be independent and difficult to fool. Someone virtuous who doesn’t need the approval of others. Also, someone principled and intelligent according to others as well. You want them to be respected by others. Emotionally, you want someone who is highly dependent on you and is afraid of losing you.

You want them to be slightly possessive and also needy. You want them to be almost smothering with you but also very vulnerable, like even if they were to try to suppress their emotions, they wouldn’t be able to when it comes to you. You also desire for them to have a secret perverse and dirty side. The side that just wants to take you at any moment. You want them to express this dirty side to you and only you, the idea of having someone be this vulnerable, intimate and dirty with you and only you is very sexy to you. I’m not sure if you realise it but you seem to enjoy slight quarrels and fights within a romantic partnership. You also enjoy adult jokes and communication through the eyes with your romantic partner. You desire a partner whose loyalty for you is very obvious and manifested strongly beneath the surface without you having to tell them anything about loyalty and devotion at all. I’m not sure what the reason is but you have a desire for a partner who doesn’t quite fit in, someone who might have had some issues with their parents? It’s not something you consciously seek but you desire for someone who you can soothe and become the most important person to, even if they don’t have any issues within their family. You likely desire someone with more conservative views or culture when it comes to romance. You desire utmost submission and devotion from a person who’s very strong within themself, and to the outside world. You want someone who wouldn’t be able to leave you no matter what. You want to be the dream person to your romantic partner, you want them to idealise you and daydream about you. You also want them to plan a future with you and be determined to be with you. You want someone who has many options but will choose you to build a life with. You want your romantic partner to choose you and not have any regrets about doing so. You want to be treated well, almost like royalty and be offered a variety of qualities and options by them. “Tell me what you want and I’ll be that for you.” Is what you want your romantic partner to be like. You want them to look reserved and determined. This is weird but you don’t want them to share eye contact with many people but when they do, it’s very intense? You want them to have a direct gaze that is intense and observant at other times. You want someone with well defined facial structure, nose and overall appearance. You want them to look ethical, intimidating, intense, calculating, respectable, high status, powerful and someone who either doesn’t smile much or even their smile looks powerful. You have a thing for a strong jaw that causes the lower face to look naturally chiseled but not a full on square jaw. Like, when someone’s jaw is so strong, their chin area looks sexy and well defined.

You also like when someone with this facial structure smiles because their chin and structure looks more pronounced plus their face just folds in certain ways. I’m not sure if I’m able to explain it but my lover - Jake of Enhypen would be a perfect example for this kind of facial structure. You want them to be known to be a hard worker who’s hard to get. You want them to be able to keep up the image of being fine and doing well in front of others. Also, someone who is very fair and has a sense of inner contentment. You want someone who’s known to continue working hard and go for another goal when they’re done accomplishing one. You want someone with a mindset “one life, I’ll do and get it all” kind of mindset. When it comes to their morals, you want them to be someone who befriends the weird person and talks to the new employee, etc. You want them to have a genuine desire to include others. You also want them to be someone who understands what is valuable and is forgiving towards self, and others. You want someone who has a conscience and feels guilty when they do certain things, and grows through it. You desire someone who is emotionally mature emotionally to work on themself and heal instead of blaming everything onto circumstances. You want to be with someone who is able to let go of the past completely without any regrets or memories. You also want them to be someone who doesn’t mind apologising if they’re wrong. Someone who’s very strong minded and willed, and possesses the strength to cut through any challenge. Also, someone whose strong love and morality always surpasses their strong hurts, regrets, resentments and hate. You want someone who actively chooses to be a good person. In their core, you want them to be someone who is warm, loving and generous. Also, someone very genuine and passionate. You want them to possess an incomprehensible depth and honestly, be a kid at heart. You want them to admire you and be attached to you by the hip. You want them to be heavily emotionally attached and involved with you. You want them to be strongly connected to their inner child and feel safe enough to let it out in front of you. You want them to have a crush on you and be in love with you decades into the relationship, and also in a very innocent fashion. You want them to have a sense of purity and innocence naturally. You want them to be sensitive and to understand your emotions, and needs without having to say much. You want to be able to laugh around, cry and just have an innocently deep connection with someone who’s ethical and serious, and self sufficient on the surface but vulnerable, loving and childlike with you. You also have a strong desire to be their first and last love, and have them be your first and last love.

꒰ Who do you need to become in order to attract them? ꒱

Right away, if you believe in manifesting, you need to just simply step into your manifestor state by not doubting things but instead just setting the intention and having faith. With them, you need to be someone who is fairly possessive but also gives others the space the breathe. You need to become slightly argumentative with them so that the arguments end in bed in order to restore stability. Well anyway enough about them, you need to develop more stability in your own life first. You need to put a laser focus on your own goals and success for now because trust me, right now, even if your ideal type existed, they’d not date you. You need to let go of any and all issues completely, once and for all, prioritising building a new life and mindset for yourself. There is someone or something that is not serving you good that you are still holding onto. It might have long passed you by but the effects of it have lingered because you were led to feel really trapped, helpless, hopeless and victimised. You’re being told that the first step to your ideal person is to let go of these deep seated fears and trauma, and never consider settling. Embrace life wholeheartedly and with passion. You need to become someone who has goals in your mind that actually light you up on the inside, goals that you are truly passionate about and you need to be fierce in your execution of them, not letting temporary circumstances steer you away from it or break your flow. Ofcourse, life happens so you might have to take a day or two off sometimes, like you might have to attend a funeral or a family member of yours might get sick, don’t let such days ruin your flow, always get back to it as soon as you can. Learn how to maintain a strong sense of self worth and always see the wins in the losses because the more you explore of any interest, the more you’ll realise that you are not doing certain things right, the more aware you’ll be of your past mistakes but that just means that you’re winning. Look at life as “oh this time my business failed, that means I’ll be able to avoid making the same mistakes the next time” instead of “oh my god, my business failed, now I have nothing to live for.” Look at life as once you’ve climbed a mountain and are able to look down, you’ll notice where you went wrong and where you could have moved differently. The main way to build stability is consistency with self control. Also, allowing yourself to grow in every aspect is going to be crucial too. You need to learn how to do things even if you don’t feel like it, how to maintain a routine even if you don’t feel like it. You’re being told to be a workaholic if the need be there but there’s a lot of emphasis being put onto work-life balance, you need to be careful about not burning yourself out while hustling. Never give up and never change your path as long as you’re aware that you want it. Like, some people have always desired to become performers, others have always desired to write, others develop a desire to become a fashion designer along the way, etc. Fashion designer - Coco Chanel didn’t go to fashion school in order to become a great fashion designer. Don’t let your emotional abundance and fulfilment depend on anyone or anything else. You’re being told to build an emergency fund right away and if you have one, grow it a bit. Learn how to not burn out so that you can always come back on track.

You’re being told not to change your mind in a fickle manner. Like, if you were thinking about saving money but you had to spend money on some food or other expenses, don’t start taking that as a “just this once, I’ll spend some money” and start buying more things, going out more often, etc. Spend money on whatever expenses may arise but stay firm on saving money. You need to become someone who believes in the mutuality, fairness and equality of any relationship, be it professional or personal. However, your kind and giving nature is going to be something that attracts not only them but also other loving experiences and people towards you. So, you’re being told to grow into someone who is publicly very kind but in terms of personal relationship very picky. You need to become like a phoenix, someone who grows more powerful and beautiful after having completely burned down. You are bound to deal with unfair circumstances and connections in this lifetime. You’re going to have to learn how to reclaim your power, no matter how many times you may have to do it. Until eventually, you’re so in control of yourself and have learned how to deal with the lack of reciprocity that you do not even lose your power anymore. You need to stop having guilt and regrets of any sort but be fairly self critical as in, you always keep yourself in check. I just heard “never let anyone wrong you” including false accusations or treating you poorly like you deserve it. In terms of the way you put yourself out in the world, become someone who’s willing to learn and be humble. When I tell you that you need to grow into this person in order to attract your ideal type, I mean to show you who you’re meant to be as well, don’t do anything solely to attract romance, it’s going to lead to you not being able to enjoy your life as it is. Please understand that the lack of romantic love doesn’t make your current life any less beautiful than when you might have a romantic partner. I’m not sure what it is but you’re going to have to motivate others and teach them to go through life and emotional pain in some way. It could be by sharing how you got over certain situations and manoeuvred through life. At your core, you have to be someone who is very controlled, loving, compassionate and strong. You’re going to be strong but in a very feminine manner. I’m picking up on shame and heartbreak over who you naturally are because you’re someone who is compassionate yet strong, wild yet refined, wholehearted yet aware of others’ boundaries, virtuous yet have your own vices, however you’ve had your softer qualities been taken advantage of and your stronger qualities villainised so well, no matter what part of yourself you embody, there’s no winning. However, trust me all you need to be is yourself. You don’t have to try to embody more of anything but if you want to, you can definitely do so. You’re very pure of heart and don’t have to change that about yourself. If you’ve had to deal with a lot of fear and confusion but have been finding clarity, you’re already at least quarter to half way there. You’re going to have to be someone who’s very subconsciously aware of who you are, even your deepest and dirtiest parts. Also, someone who is very powerful, influential, warm, shines brightly and is the creator of their own life. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ What are you looking for within a partner outside of worldly distractions, personal insecurities and limiting beliefs? ꒱

Your ideal type is someone who is unique in the way they think and open minded. You think that certain beliefs that you have and the way you are is slightly different from what others can usually accept or even understand so you want them to understand and accept you completely. You also want them to have a strong conscience and sense of what’s right, and wrong. You want them to be private but still very honest, someone who’s willing to correct their wrongs and work on their negative traits. Someone who’s self aware enough to see, understand, accept and work through certain actions that may not be the most ethical. You want someone who’s fair and has a strong knowledge about the rights that they may not directly benefit from. Many of you here are feminists or/and child activists, you may not go out there and fight but you have a strong knowledge of the rights that these two groups of people should receive and have a desire to stand up against any injustice that you see these people may be facing so you want a partner who pushes you towards it and would understand why you feel so strongly about certain topics. You want them to be an individual who doesn’t just blindly follow what they’ve been raised with. You don’t want them to hold onto outdated beliefs that separate people from one another, such as different religions, different castes if you’re hindu, etc. You want them to be someone with a strong sex appeal but not that social. You want them to be social as in be able to have fun and interact with others but also not be available just anywhere and everywhere. You want them to be a busy person with individual projects and just high maintenance, you want others to envy them due to their personality, character, image and success. You want them to not want to or even be able to stay away from you. You want them to feel homesick without you and come back to you as soon as possible after travels or even cancel travelling to be with you. You want them to have eyes and heart only for you, and only give you time and affection. You’re not overbearing because you do understand that they have a life and you’ll let them have it but in terms of emotions and certain aspects of them, you want to be the only one to receive it. You want them to prioritise your connection above all, most definitely. You want them to be fiercely loyal to you and for you to share a connection so deep that they feel comfortable enough to talk to you about their failures, disappointments and hurts. You want a very intimate connection with a natural understanding and acceptance of one another. You mostly desire someone who is untouchable and comfortable with being alone. Your biggest fear is ending up with an experienced hoe who can’t be alone for shit. That’s not even my usual vocabulary, that was the spirit I swear 😭. You want someone who looks independent and as though they don’t need anyone but in a more closed off manner.

You want someone who looks like they work really hard and have no problems in life. I’m getting that you like someone who probably looks like they work out too. Definitely someone fairly glamorous and gorgeous who stands out though. Honestly, you desire someone who no one has had or known properly. You want them to be known by how hard they work and how busy they are. Also, someone who doesn’t mind being seen as ‘boring’ just because they are responsible and old school. You want them to be pretty unhinged in certain ways, someone who pursues their dreams and goals abashedly. Also, someone who is known for being dominant and well respected. You want someone who people can’t even figure out or put into words. Like, the type who will just take your breath away because of how unconventional yet true they are to themself. Also, someone who has build a lot of money by themself due to how hardworking they are. You want them to value depth and intimacy, and take connections seriously. You want them to be someone who values personal achievements that they may not gain recognition for just as much as external achievements. You want them to be intentional about life and know what they want, and go after it. You want them to be someone who has a lot of faith in themself and desires to improve their skills. You want them to value passion and communication, and be very smooth with their words. Someone who lowkey has a god complex, as in they know that they’re one with the universe and powerful enough to get what they want. You want them to be someone who thinks that whatever ideas they have, they can bring them to life. You want them to have a strong willpower and consciousness about how the universe operates even if they may not exactly use words like ‘god’, ‘universe’ or ‘manifestation’. You want someone who values being influential and succeeds in doing so. Someone who is capable of learning from everyone and everything. Someone who is just a true man (if you’re interested in men). You want them to have a willpower that can’t be crushed no matter what, someone who will always push forward. Emotionally, you want them to hold a silent power. Someone who naturally expects and demands respect from others. Also someone who is quick to cut people out and off. You want them to be someone who grows from every situation and is grateful for what they do have. Someone who’s present and grounded within reality, and doesn’t think about the past. You want their emotional focus to be on self and reality. You want them to be selfless with those who need it but still very focused on their own life path. You want them to have a zest for life and be ambitious. You want them to have a certain pride within themself. You have a desire for someone who either comes from humble beginnings or if not (because everyone loves generational wealth), maintains humility despite being successful and rich. Whether you may expect it or not, you want them to have never been in love with or given anything to anyone else, you want them to have you as their first and last love forever, and always.

꒰ Who do you need to become in order to attract them? ꒱

You will not attract them unless you’ve worked through heartbreaks, hurt and trauma of your own. When I say ‘worked through’, I mean moved on completely to the point that you think it’s too irrelevant and boring to even think about. You should learn how to balance things and a proper schedule even if unavoidable circumstances may come up. Like, supposing you received news that a close relative passed away and you have no choice but to go to help with their funeral, go do so but don’t forget your routine in the process. Even if you’re unable to check everything off, check a few things off. Like, even if you’re unable to workout and study, if you had an essay to write, make sure to do so or if you wake up late because you went to sleep late, make sure to get up and follow your routine as far as you can. If you have to skip the workout part for that day it’s okay but make sure not to skip it the next. Try to be consistent and don’t let your inability to do one task stop you from doing the rest of them. You need to mature a lot more in order to attract this person that you desire into your life. Yes, if you manage to have an overnight shift into this identity, you will attract them eventually but most people do not change overnight because human change is more of a process so I’d suggest that you start working towards becoming this person right away. You need to be a hard-worker and have self improvement, and life improvement as your top priority. You need to be so busy and so grounded within yourself that you don’t even have time to think about the past unnecessarily. You need to forgive your past and move past it. You need to become aware enough to not engage in conflict, arguments or making any choice driven by anger. Learn from your mistakes instead of ruminating over how you were done wrong. Regrets won’t do anything, move on without them. You are going to have people who are competitive with you and envious of you. You need to become confusing by seemingly appearing like you lack assertiveness but winning every competitive battle in one way or another. Emotionally, you need to get rid of being too emotional. You need to have a strong desire and will to succeed and grow. Also, to follow the light towards the end of the tunnel. You’re being told that the sooner you get rid of heavy hearted energies, the sooner you’ll get better. Morally you need to be very quick and firm, like no one should be able to sway you away from your morals even if they were the sweetest speaker and most persuasive person ever.

Your desire for fairness and reasoning needs to outride your emotions for anyone in any situation. You also need to maintain your fiery and passionate nature. I recommend that you look out for children and try to take care of them, I’m not sure why either but it just came through. You need to become fearless and never lose your zest for life, if you already have, you need to get it back. You need to prioritise enjoying the essence of life, never lose perspective of the beauty of it. You’re being told that you need to live. You need to go out and experience life instead of being in your head. Physical appearance and image wise, you need to be a bit more closed off and secretive. You need to create a sense of mystery around yourself by keeping to yourself but when you speak, you should say something wise or teach people how to do something, etc. Be humble in your approach. Also, never approach people first and avoid being too available early on as well. You should not pretend to be something you’re not so all you need to do is build enough of a life for yourself to be busy enough to not be available just anyone and everyone. You need to be a stable person who values close and stable connections on a core level, and build a level of detachment so that you’re apathetic to things and people not being the right ones for you. You need to learn how to enjoy working so that you have enough of a life for yourself and should give yourself away in social service of some sort, that’s where you’ll find true contentment. You’re going to have to develop a lot of inner and outer power in order to attract and get with your ideal type. You need to become protective of yourself and keep parts of yourself only to yourself. You need to start self worshiping to a certain extent. You need to understand the divinity that humans are, having been made by the most divine itself (god, universe, whatever you may want to cut it). Don’t forget your divinity and sacredness. Be a sharp thinker who takes no bullshit. Don’t be afraid of hurting other people’s feelings in this process of life because being real, everyone hurts someone or the other, with decent people, it’s not even intentional. You need to be able to see things as they are, even if it’s painful. Also, you need to live in the present moment completely. You need to have an active lifestyle instead of being by yourself, in your head all the time. Extend your love to yourself and to those in need but don’t hand it out for free in interpersonal relationships. Teach others and learn from them. Be humble but don’t let your guard down. Have sacred time when you do nothing but bask in yourself, when you do nothing but appreciate yourself, when you do nothing but think thoughts that help you connect to yourself better. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

꒰ What are you looking for within a partner outside of worldly distractions, personal insecurities and limiting beliefs? ꒱

“Nobody gonna love me better, I must stick with you forever. Nobody gonna take me higher, I must stick with you.” You probably dislike those who indulge in any sort of intoxication. You are into someone who is a bit bossy and controlling but deeply passionate, and fiercely loyal. Also, someone who would get jealous. You want to see them all riled up over you. You want them to desire power, wealth, status, etc. and be very fierce in approach to it but also not let these desires have a hold on them. You want them to have an empowered mindset and just truly be free. You want them to be someone who faces their fears and gains power out of it, instead of acting out in fearful and anxious ways. Like, for example, this person does not trust themself enough when it comes to singing in front of everyone, they choose to face that fear and lack of trust head on, and practice really hard, the first step being that they don’t sing well enough to be confident in their singing, they consciously decide and work hard in order to get better at that skill. That’s the kind of person you want to be with, someone who can turn fears into power. Also, someone who thinks or at least knows that everything is a learnable skill. You don’t want them to be someone who makes excuses about not doing or being certain things. You want them to be a winner in front of others. You want others to see them as hardworking, driven and successful. You also want them to possess a duality. You want them to be a kind and hardworking person who is well respected, and liked but also sorta underestimated and disrespected but the underestimation comes from fear or jealousy. You want them to be so powerful that their power is sort of hidden. I’m not sure how to explain it. You want them to be more powerful than people can fathom. I’m trying my best to put it into words but I’m unable to do so. Maybe you want someone who’s very difficult to describe, explain or understand? You want them to have a hypnotic effect on people that sort of breaks when they interact with them because they seem easy going to and easy to take for granted but then they still have power, and to be much more hardworking, firm and almost stoic than how they look. You want them to include you everyday. You desire to feel seen by them and feel special. You want someone who’s liked by other people to only like you and for those other people to witness it. You want their affection for you to be visible to everyone and for you to receive envy as well. You want them to take your breath away with their genuineness and how they’re loved, and looked up to by everyone. You want them to be emotionally intelligent and to genuinely care about your emotions.

I wonder if you have some unresolved emotional pain because you want them to have undergone enough to understand you and your pain. You want them to love themself a lot but be willing to martyr themself just a little bit for you. You don’t want to settle for someone who stops talking to other women, thirsting over celebrities, watching porn, etc. just because they’re dating you, you want them to normally be this way whether they’re dating anyone or not. You want them to be the kind to patiently work and wait for their fruits to show instead of talking to every woman, chasing them, clubbing every weekend, etc. You want them to look ethereal yet dangerous in some way. Possibly a taller, stronger or/and bigger physique. You want them to be known for being hardworking but not open enough. Someone who’s hard to get close to, someone who doesn’t let others into their life that easily. You want them to be someone who doesn’t let just anyone get to know them on a deep level. You want them to be a parent-like naturally. Someone who treats everyone well and with good intentions. You especially want this energy stronger with you, you want them to take care of you and do things for you just because they want to, just because they adore you. It’s very obvious that you want them to be nurturing and beautiful inside out. For you, outside beauty by itself won’t do much. When it comes to you, physical beauty is a lot about the image they have. Like, the way they carry themself, the aura they have, the reputation they have and the way other people view them. You’re attracted to those who make you feel better about yourself and rise you further in life. You want them to be a bit alone at their core and be fine with it. You want their main moral to be love, you want them to be someone who doesn’t separate from the essence of love no matter how successful they may get or the opposite end, how much life may betray them, how much they have have to hurt. You want them to be able to lead with love and be biased in their treatment of you. You want them to treat you differently from the rest of the people around you. Also, you want them to have a lot of willpower and power over their emotions. Also, someone who has the ability to get what they want in life no matter what. You want to be shown off to everyone and loved publicly because well, it’s sweet plus flattering. You love attention and affection, and want someone who’s not scared of loving you and choosing only you. Unfortunately, there’s a deep rejection wound that you seem to possess, it may not have been that you received a direct rejection but you felt like people were embarrassed of you and thought you weren’t good enough for them. This wound runs very deep and while it’s okay for you to desire to be loved publicly, you need to work on healing this wound.

꒰ Who do you need to become in order to attract them? ꒱

Firstly, you need to prioritise your personal healing. I just heard that there’s no one coming to save you. You need to understand that no matter what you go through, the healing is going to be personal to you and only you, no one else will be able to experience what you experienced and hence, help you heal. One thing that I won’t lie about is the one sidedness that you seem to have faced in life so far. You need to accept the one sidedness that you have experienced, even if it hurts and is not easy to accept, and move forward with it. “I’ve been big and small, and big and small, and big and small again but still nobody wants me, still nobody wants me, and I know no one will save me, I’m just asking for a kiss, give me one good honest kiss and I’ll be alright.” You’re desperately affection starved but focusing on how you’ve been starved of it won’t do any good. You need to learn how to nurture your soul affectionately outside of external validation and affection. One way to know that you’re on your way is if you are dealing with internal and external aggression or have already done so. You’re someone who wishes for your interactions with others to go smoothly but sometimes that’s just not how it goes, they may be rude, belittle you or just make a demeaning joke, and when you were younger, you’d likely have laughed it off and moved on but now you feel really really angry on the inside. There are times when you externally blow up on people as well. You are someone who is very extreme, there are or were times when you were incredibly submissive and nothing people said got to you to the point of ticking you off, and now, you desire for interactions to go smoothly so when that’s not the case, and when you feel disrespected, you blow up or at least feel really aggressive internally. You need to move past this thought process that your past trauma from one sidedness and other people’s thoughtless actions have given you. You didn’t mind it at that time but now that you look back, you feel really wronged and disrespected, and due to how you don’t want the history to repeat again, you’ve started putting people in their place even if it’s a bit extreme at times. I’m not sure but some of you here, probably many of you seem to be a real life version of Pearl. There’s a chance that you wanted to become an actress or actor, or still secretly dream of doing so, some of you may even be trying to pursue it. This seems to be a path that your heart never leaves. However, right now, you’re the “I’m not staying on this farm. Nothing’s gonna keep me here” or/and “why are you leaving me if I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t understand, I thought you liked me” kind of Pearl. You need to find a way to be externally passionate such as finding new goals or hobbies. There’s just this zest for life that you need to develop. You need to have fun with whatever you’re doing, that’s for sure. Also, you don’t have to be a hundred percent honest and transparent with anyone, especially not with someone you don’t know well yet. Act strategically and don’t trust anyone. Trusting someone should come to you only after years of knowing that deeply. You’re being told to not be naive enough to forget the dark nature and psyche that human beings possess.

I just heard that not everyone is going to have your best interest at heart. Be secretive and never share your plans with anyone or even tell them what you’re doing to the full extent. “Even the people closest to you can use your strengths and weaknesses against you if the need be there. Your past is proof of it.” You’re also being told not to act out of anger or blow up on people. There was once a point when you could not say anything mean to people even if they were doing so to you because you are supposed to have and maintain a natural grace. Keep in mind that when you grab a burning coal and throw it at someone, you may or may not hurt them but you’re definitely hurting yourself. You doubt yourself for no reason and easily feel guilty because for you, judging (misjudging) yourself comes easier than to even just see or at least understand the wrongdoings of others. Which is why you’ve often taken unfair blame. You’re very critical of yourself which is good because you’re aware of your own wrongdoings but you need to stop being so hard on yourself especially knowing that others have done worse and don’t hold even half the remorse you do. Just use your self criticality to refine yourself further. Due to all the one sidedness that you’ve experienced, you wonder if you’re putting yourself out there in a manner which makes it hard for others to truly understand you but what you’re failing to realise is that you can’t make them understand you when they are committed to misunderstanding you. Partially, this self doubt is present because you feel like you’re a pretty good person at heart and even through actions, for the most part despite the mistakes that you may have made here and there. So when others do not see your worth or value, or even seem to understand you. It genuinely confuses you. You often overestimate other people, especially if there are personal feelings or desires involved, you need to understand and accept that who you’ve lost wasn’t even that great to begin with, what you’ve lost wasn’t even that great to begin with. Actually no, it was great but do you know why? Because of you and your efforts. Fight back for yourself when others misunderstand you but don’t try to fight back verbally because language will most definitely be mistranslated. Fight back through silence, fight back by removing yourself, fight back by getting better for yourself and surrounding yourself with better people. You need to put the past behind completely and not even think about it anymore. You need to move on without any regrets and mental or emotional attachment. “And now the chapter is closed and done, and now it’s goodbye, it’s goodbye for us.” This makes me so emotional. I’m not sure which cancer (or cancer placements) here dealt with a pisces or aquarius (or someone with those placements) but damn, the heartbreak seems to have been real. If not these placements, some of you could have similar placements like this. For example, aries with sagittarius/scorpio placements, taurus with capricorn/sagittarius placements, gemini with aquarius/capricorn placements, so on and so forth. I’m getting that majority of you probably dealt with pisces or aquarius placements or with neptune squares/pluto aspects in the astrological synastry or composite chart with someone though.

Sometimes, there’s just this thought in your mind that maybe your intense love nature and your willingness to ride or die is causing you to suffer. You’re someone who’s very responsible. Even if you don’t have the means to, you try to help others especially those you love. ‘Unconditionally’ by Katy Perry is coming through. You have the ability to stick with people through thick and thin, and you genuinely have the desire to do so, and receive the same from someone else as well but you’re going to face disappointments in your lifetime in regards to that. I’m not getting you simply just being slightly hurt by like a situationship, relationship or anything. I’m getting your soul merging with someone’s and having to have your heart and soul deal with the pain of separation with your beloved. You’re going to have to learn how to forgive and accept the situation as it was i.e. if they were capable of loving you the way you wanted and needed them to, if they were even just as half as loyal to you, if they genuinely wanted to be present, you’d be together. I’m literally crying at this point, this is very emotional. You’re supposed to learn how to find solace and stability within yourself without any external love or validation. Your romantic, intense and ride or die nature is an innate part of you, don’t remove it. Learn how to create a persona and character with this deeply integrated within yourself but have this acceptance that you should not have to settle for less. Develop the mindset of “I’d rather not be with anyone until I reach my death bed than settle.” You’re also being told to use your love to become a universal mother, to tend to others who need your love. You’re being told that your life will have to revolve around social service and mothering of some kind in order to attract your ideal type. The easiest way to do this is to deal with underprivileged children and just spread kindness to children in general. Always come out of any isolations (because you’re going to go through phases of it) with more love and service to give, and offer. When I’m telling you to be all of these things, I’m not asking you to change yourself, I’m only telling you to be who you are authentically and who you’re supposed to be, not just for them but also for yourself. So please take my words very seriously, it’s not just to attract someone outside of you but also to help you become happier and lead a better life. You need to continue valuing passion, having it as one of your main values and learn how to not go deep with just anyone and everyone because not everyone is deserving of the ride or die, intensely loving nature that you’re inevitably going to extend to them at some point. Appearance wise, you need to have a power due to how easy to underestimate you look but are actually not. Like, supposing you wear skirts and a lot of light colours (you don’t have to, it’s just an example), and have a baby face, others may assume that you haven’t achieved anything, and are reliant on your parents when in reality, you have a business that you’ll never give them enough details on. You also need to have an image of being someone busy who doesn’t give your attention to everybody who asks for it. “Act like you don’t need anyone’s attention, approval and validation.” Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

Pt.3 SILLLY LITTLE BAT.

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ There are only memories, fragments of a past that, like shadows, will haunt you until your last breath, whispers of what was and will never be. Gotham cries out for a guardian, a soul to face the darkness, to challenge fate in its shadowy alleys.

But tell me, who will rise to protect you, traveler of scars and broken dreams? Who will watch over your light when the world swallows your hopes?

In the eternal night, amidst the echo of fear and longing, there is only one path: to confront the monsters and become the hero this city needs, even if the price is the forgetting of oneself.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt2. Pt.4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— Here is the continuation of the other parts. There will be a few more parts but you should know that we will soon reach the end, but there are still things to clarify and so on. I don't know if you would like me to do another Batfam yandere series in the future or similar. Send me your ideas if you want :3

They are upset because I left

Where they never included me.

The car moved slowly under the gray sky of Gotham, as if the universe itself understood the weight of the pain you carried in your small figure. Commissioner Gordon, with his firm hands on the wheel, cast furtive glances at the rearview mirror, where he saw you curled up in the back seat. Wrapped in an old blanket, the same one you had hugged for days, your face was hidden among the folds, but the silent tears that fell could not be disguised. There were no words that Gordon could offer to heal the recent wound of losing your mother, but his empathy, though silent, was there, wrapping around you like the coat that couldn't quite warm you.

In your lap, a small Batman doll rested, pressed against your chest, as if that fabric toy could protect you from the world that had just destroyed your innocence. Your eyes, still swollen and red, looked out the window without seeing, watching the city that seemed so distant, so foreign.

"You will be loved and cherished," Gordon whispered, breaking the silence that had weighed like fog in the car. "Bruce Wayne... he will take care of you, I promise."

But you didn't respond immediately. The name Wayne felt strange, distant, as if he spoke of someone living in a story, not in your reality. You looked up, your eyes meeting Gordon’s for a second in the rearview mirror.

"And if they don't want me...?" you murmured, insecurity clouding your childish voice. "I don't know them, Commissioner... and they don't know me. What if they leave me in an orphanage? Mama always told me those places aren't nice."

Gordon swallowed hard, understanding the depth of your fear. "You were just a child, but you had already learned that love was not a guarantee." The world had taught you that cruel lesson too soon.

"The Waynes..." he began, searching for the right words, "are good people. You might not understand it at first, but I assure you they have suffered too. Bruce..." he paused, recalling the losses that man had faced. "He understands what it is to lose someone. He will do everything he can to make you feel safe, to help you find a home again."

But you kept looking at the doll in your hands, your fingers squeezing it tightly, as if it were the only stable thing in a world crumbling around you.

The silence grew heavy, uncomfortable, as if the words wanted to come out but didn’t know how. Again, Gordon spoke, his voice low, almost afraid to break the stillness.

"And/y/n... what was your mom like?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off the road, as if by doing so, he could give you space to be honest, to not feel pressured.

You fell silent for a long moment, your small fingers nervously playing with the edges of the blanket. The world outside the car seemed a reflection of what you felt inside: cloudy, cold, distant.

Finally, you exhaled, as if gathering the courage to speak. Your voice came out shaky at first, filled with a mix of sadness and a hard-to-accept truth.

"My mom..." you murmured, not taking your eyes off the window. "She wasn't a good person, but... she wasn't a villain either."

Gordon nodded slowly, without interrupting you. He knew things were rarely black or white, that life had that cruel ability to mix the two.

"She... told me she grew up in an orphanage. She never had anything that was really hers." You paused, your eyes glassy as you recalled details that now seemed more painful than ever. "Well, except for me."

"Gordon felt a knot form in his throat." He knew that loss was a terrible burden to bear, but there was something more in your words, something suggesting that, amidst it all, there had also been love. An imperfect love, but real.

"She always dreamed of having a little house..." you continued, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared on your face, though it was tinged with melancholy. "A house with a garden, lots of Barbie dolls, and a little dog. She didn't need more. She just wanted something that was hers."

You stopped for a moment, as if the simple act of recalling those dreams your mother had hurt you. You knew she would never have them. That the world had been cruel to her, denying her even the small things she wished for so fervently.

"But... she never got it. We were always moving around, fleeing, searching for something better. And now... she doesn’t even have that."

The car seemed to shrink, the air denser. Gordon felt a wave of compassion for that woman who, though perhaps not perfect, had dreamed of something so simple, so human, and yet had not achieved it.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he murmured.

"Commissioner, what if... what if I can't forget her?" you asked, almost in a whisper. "What if I can't stop thinking about Mom?"

The silence in the car became heavy, almost tangible. Gordon wanted to tell you that you didn't have to forget, that it was natural to carry that pain. But the words didn't come, and instead, only a long sigh escaped his lips.

"It's not about forgetting, Y/n," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "It's about moving forward, even though it hurts. Your mother would want you to find happiness again, even though it may not seem possible now. And I’m sure Bruce will do everything in his power to help you."

The car turned onto the long, dark road leading to Wayne Manor. The trees formed a tunnel of shadows, as if the road were wrapped in the same mourning you carried within. The mansion, with its imposing grandeur, appeared in the distance, its walls as high as the secrets it held. "You were so small in the face of the immensity of this new life that awaited you."

"We're almost there," Gordon said softly, as he slowed down. "The wind outside whispered through the trees, like an echo of everything you had lost."

You didn’t know it at that moment, but that house would be full of stories, some broken, others in the process of healing. And although you felt like a stranger in a strange land now, Gordon hoped that, one day, that place would become your refuge.

The car stopped in front of the enormous gates. Gordon looked at you one last time before getting out. In his eyes, you could see a mix of sadness and hope, an empathy that went beyond words.

"You are not alone, Y/n," he said, his voice now firmer. "You will never be alone again."

You remained silent, gazing at the mansion as you clung to the blanket and the Batman doll. The weight of the world still rested on your small shoulders, but for the first time, there might have been a glimmer of relief in knowing that someone, even if he was a strange and distant man, was waiting for you inside."

And in that moment, although you still felt the burning pain of your loss, a ray of hope began to break through the shadows of your heart.

Y/n was sitting in the BatCafé, that corner of the city where the tables wobbled and conversations were woven into murmurs, as if the place knew how to keep secrets that even you wouldn’t dare to share aloud. The walls, a mossy green, were filled with stories that no one had asked for. She looked at her lukewarm latte as one looks at a future that hasn’t quite arrived, a liquid mockery evaporating before it could warm her hands. It had barely been a month since she left her family home, but she already felt that independence was more of a myth than a fulfilled dream. At first, the heroism of having thrown herself into the world had filled her with pride, but now reality lurked like a treacherous chill seeping through the cracks, and the fact that she was waiting for her potential roommate didn’t help matters.

“Well, at least the rent will be cheaper,” she told herself, or rather to the coffee, as if the dark liquid could reply with something sensible.

Sharing an apartment was, for Y/n, the only way out. Her salary barely covered survival, but only if she fed on fresh air and broken dreams. And there she was, waiting for someone named Pamela Isley, who, according to the ad, didn’t even seem to be from this planet. "I hope she’s not one of those people with invisible cats," she thought. Of course, the alternatives weren’t very promising: people who collected Batman figurines or guys who made friends with cockroaches in the kitchen. She had seen it all; after all, her apartment was in one of the most dangerous areas of Gotham, and she knew it all too well.

You were born in that area. One could say the neighborhood chose you before you had a chance to choose it. You didn’t remember exactly which apartment; in that hive of broken windows and half-painted bricks, all the floors seemed like a blurry copy of the previous one, each with the same square footage and an air of silent resignation. In the end, it didn’t matter, because in a way, everything was the same. Dust in the corners, worn tiles, cracks in the walls that seemed to form a map of some invisible and secret city, a place that only you could decipher if you stopped to observe long enough.

It was an unpretentious place, where people rarely smiled, but neither did they let themselves be trampled. There was something in the air, a kind of poorly disguised pride, as if every neighbor, every stray dog, knew that surviving there wasn’t a matter of luck but of will. Heroes didn’t exist in that corner of the world, but villains didn’t dare impose their law without facing some gaze that, without saying anything, said it all. It was rough terrain, where kindness camouflaged behind growls and complaints, and malice grew tired before it could fully settle.

And yet, you loved it. It was absurd, but you loved it with that devotion reserved for things you don’t choose, for roots that sink into your chest without asking for permission. The place was filled with memories you didn’t ask for, stories you never wanted to hear but that seeped into your skin. Tales of people who vanished in alleyways, of broken promises around the corner, of loves that drowned in factory smoke. And yet, those same tales were like echoes that held you, reminding you that you were born there, in that half-hell where life was always a fight but never a complete defeat.

The clock in the BatCafé struck six ten when the door opened. What happened next was hard to explain, like when you dream and you don’t know if it’s the pillow or the universe holding you. Pamela Isley walked in, and it was as if the wind, that autumn wind that brings memories, had gently pushed her in. Y/n looked up, and the first thing she noticed was her hair, a red that was out of this world, more fire than pigment, more nature than dye. The roots tangled as if they were living branches, and for a moment, Y/n wondered if the sun had made a mistake and was shining only on her.

Pamela walked as if she had a pact with the earth. Her steps were slow but firm, as if her feet waited for the ground to respond before settling. She wore a jacket that was impossible to describe without sounding crazy: green vines and small buds peeking out, as if at any moment the plants would grow over her. "Where does this woman come from?" Y/n thought, feeling something beyond mere curiosity. There was something she couldn’t deny, an attraction that felt unsettling, like those waves that, without warning, sweep you away when you think you can still touch the bottom.

Pamela approached the table with a calculated calm, a calm only nature or time can sculpt. And then she smiled. In that smile, Y/n felt something familiar yet strange, as if she were facing a younger version of her mother, but instead of being terrifying, it was comforting. What was happening?

“Y/n L/n?” Pamela said, her voice reminiscent of the whisper of dry leaves underfoot.

“Yes, that’s me,” Y/n answered, trying to make her voice sound normal, even though everything inside her felt out of place.

Pamela sat down across from her, crossing her legs with an almost feline elegance. The BatCafé seemed to conspire around them; the air smelled of wet earth and freshly brewed coffee, a strange mix, like the combination of what was about to be born and what had already died.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” Y/n began, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. She wasn’t even sure what she was expecting.

“Strange?” Pamela completed, with a playful smile that left Y/n with a sense of defeat and fascination in equal parts.

“Something like that,” Y/n replied, looking at Pamela’s hands. Her long, slender fingers were covered in small green spots, as if she had just planted a forest with her own hands. There was something almost magical about her, as if every part of her being was connected to the earth in a way that Y/n couldn’t quite understand. And there, amid that confusion, was the fine thread of attraction.

Pamela let her gaze fall on her own latte, turning it between her hands as if it were about to reveal some hidden secret in the foam.

“So, what do you do? I mean… aside from, you know… looking like you walked out of a Tim Burton movie,” Y/n said, attempting a bit of humor to ease the tension she felt in her stomach.

Pamela glanced at her and laughed softly, a laugh that felt like an unexpected breeze on a hot day.

“I’m… a caretaker. Of plants.” She paused, gauging Y/n’s reaction. “And other things.”

“Other things?” Y/n asked, intrigued but also amused by the way Pamela toyed with the mystery.

“Yes, like people who don’t know how to water a plant without drowning it,” she replied, arching an eyebrow mischievously.

The response made Y/n laugh, a laugh she hadn’t expected, as if Pamela had found a way to touch something deep within her, something that hadn’t bloomed in a long time. And without being able to help it, she felt drawn, not just by the way Pamela moved, spoke, or even by the air of mystery surrounding her, but because there was something more, something familiar, something that reminded her of her mother, but without the shadows of authority and judgment. It was like a wild, free version of what had once been security.

“So… are you going to save my cactus or criticize it?” Y/n said, trying to sound casual while feeling that her heart had started playing a game of chess with her emotions.

Pamela smiled again, and this time it was a different smile, one that seemed to carry a promise.

“It depends. Would you let me stay to try?” Pamela said, with a playful seriousness that left Y/n unsure whether the question was about the cactus or something much larger.

Y/n blinked, trying to process the phrase, but deep down she knew that any answer would sound awkward. Pamela’s question hung in the air between them like a leaf falling slowly, right at the perfect point where it was neither entirely a joke nor completely serious. And there she was, caught in that space, wondering whether she should laugh or just blush.

“Well… you can try,” she finally said, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her face. “But I can’t promise the cactus will survive. I’m something like… a serial plant killer... When I was younger, I had time to care for them as they deserved, with help from… from my father. But now work consumes me a lot, and the truth is I’ve neglected them too much… they must feel the same way I felt when… sorry, I talk too much about myself, don’t I?”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, with a smile that seemed to say more than either of them dared to voice at that moment.

“Oh, no, keep talking about yourself; I’m used to it. I have very… eccentric friends, to be honest.” She leaned a bit closer, as if about to share a secret. “Though I prefer not to work under threats, so don’t look at me like I’m going to be your next plant murder victim. But I doubt a little scared bat can kill even a fly.”

Y/n laughed nervously, surprised at how easy Pamela made everything. She, who had always been clumsy with conversations and glances, felt like the words flowed with Pamela in a way she didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question either.

“...Little Bat?” Y/n asked, with a clumsy and blushing smile as her fingers nervously toyed with the edge of her cup.

Pamela let out a low giggle, that laugh that always seemed to carry the sound of dry leaves being trampled in autumn. With a gentle gesture, she pointed to her clothes.

“Is it that obvious?” she said with a half-smile, raising a playful eyebrow as she leaned a little forward.

She wore a dark fur coat, enormous, with a wide fall that, under the dim light of the BatCafé, seemed to have the precise shape of bat wings extending. The high, well-fitted black boots completed the image of a figure that seemed to have emerged from the very shadows. And for a moment, Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or get lost in that air of mystery that Pamela seemed to wear like a second coat.

“Well…” Y/n diverted her gaze with a shy smile, “it’s not like you’re hiding it much.”

Pamela smiled with that touch of mischief that characterized her.

“Does it bother you? I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve been fascinated by bats since I was little.” she asked, her voice low and slow, as if measuring every word, as if the world were a delicate plant that required to be touched with the tips of her fingers.

Y/n let out a small nervous laugh, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks again.

“No, not at all. I think it’s…” she hesitated for a second, searching for the right word, unsure how to avoid the obvious, “I think it suits you well.”

Pamela watched her for a moment, and then, with that look that always seemed to go beyond what words said, added:

“You’re turning red, you know?”

Y/n’s eyes widened a bit more, surprised by Pamela’s directness, but all she could do was laugh at herself.

“Well, it’s just that, I’m not really used to… this.”

“This?” Pamela repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sharing coffee with someone or bats?”

“Both,” Y/n admitted, shrugging, which provoked another smile from Pamela. “I always wanted one as a pet… but I have a vegan little brother who’s very… spooky… so I’ve always been afraid he’d steal it from me or accuse me of having exotic pets.”

Pamela settled into the chair, not taking her eyes off Y/n.

“But you’ll get used to it,” she paused, letting her words float calmly.

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of nerves and a spark of something she couldn’t quite define. Pamela’s dark coat and relaxed smile were a disconcerting yet strangely familiar contrast, as if they had always been there, waiting for her. And suddenly, all she could do was wonder how soon that would happen… getting used to it.

“Although I can’t promise my apartment isn’t… a battlefield,” Y/n said, trying to sound confident, but noticing the slight tremor in her voice.

Pamela looked at her intently for a moment, with that mix of flirtation and something deeper, something that seemed impossible to decipher completely. Then she relaxed in the chair, as if the game had just begun.

“A battlefield, huh?” she said, playing with the spoon of her coffee. “Well, I like challenges. And chaotic places have their own charm if you know where to look.” Pamela let the phrase slide smoothly, like someone throwing a stone into a lake and waiting for the ripples.

Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that every word Pamela spoke carried a double meaning, but far from making her feel uncomfortable, it sparked something akin to contained laughter, as if they were sharing a private joke that she was just beginning to access.

“Don’t you have plants at home?” Pamela suddenly asked, as if the question had sprung from the foam of her coffee.

“Well, there are a couple of cacti… and a fern that I think hates me,” Y/n replied. “But I always forget to water them. Or I overwater them. Seriously, it’s like plants come to me already doomed.”

Pamela smiled, one of those slow smiles that seem to grow little by little, like a sprout deciding when the perfect moment to emerge into the light is.

“It’s not just about water, Y/n,” she said, with that voice that seemed to carry the calm of the wind and the weight of centuries of nature. “Plants need attention. Patience. Sometimes they just want to know you’re there, even if you don’t say anything.” She paused, letting Y/n’s gaze get lost in her eyes. “Sometimes, like people.”

Y/n felt a little shiver. It wasn’t what Pamela was saying, but how she was saying it. There was something in her voice that disarmed her, as if every word had been calculated to penetrate a defense that Y/n hadn’t even realized she had up. And then, almost without thinking, she let slip a truth she rarely shared.

“I’m not very good with people.” The confession came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She said it without drama, almost as if she were talking about the weather. But something in Pamela changed, barely perceptible, like a leaf moving without the wind touching it.

“Really?” Pamela asked softly, but without an ounce of pity. Just curiosity.

Y/n looked down for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her cup, before daring to continue.

“I grew up in a huge house, but… empty. My father… well, he was busy with his things. Business, parties, the usual. Shrugging it off, wanting to downplay it, even though inside she knew it wasn’t something that could easily fade away. Alfred, the butler, raised me. And yes, he was amazing. But it was always just him and no one else. It’s not the same as having… friends.”

Pamela listened in silence, but not in that awkward way where people listen just to see how you respond afterward. No, there was something in her attention that enveloped Y/n, as if she were giving her space to bare herself without fear of being judged.

“You never had friends,” Pamela asserted more than asked.

Y/n shook her head.

“Until now,” Pamela said, with that same softness that seemed to have become her trademark, and something in Y/n’s chest stirred, as if she had just heard the most important thing in the world.

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence that somehow connected them. And then Pamela broke the spell, with a mischievous smile that lit everything up again.

“So… are you going to let me be your first friend, or would you rather keep killing plants?”

Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a sincere and liberating laugh, as if something inside her had broken an invisible chain. After all, it was clear that Pamela wasn’t just another person passing through her life. There was something different about her, something that made the air feel lighter, that made the future seem less uncertain.

“Well, if you can survive the cactus…” Y/n said, leaving the sentence unfinished, but knowing Pamela would understand.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt that everything might be okay. That maybe, just maybe, Pamela Isley wasn’t just a roommate, but the first person in a long time with whom she could imagine a less lonely future. She was already caught in that web, and the worst, or perhaps the best part, was that she didn’t care at all.

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the mansion's garden on a gray afternoon that seemed to drag memories along like the wind drags fallen leaves. In his hands, a cup of black coffee, still steaming, its strong and bitter aroma mingling with the scent of damp earth after the rain. In front of him, on a small wrought-iron table, rested a piece of dark chocolate cake topped with melting strawberry ice cream, forming a pink puddle around it. But he found no pleasure in the view. It was more of a bitter symbol of a routine he once believed unbreakable.

In the garden, where the wilted flowers swayed gently, a little girl flitted about with contagious energy, as if the chill of the afternoon did not exist for her. Her laughter, so innocent and pure, filled the air, breaking the sepulchral silence that seemed to reign in that old home for a moment. She wore a pink dress with small white dots, an 80s style that would have been charming in another time but now seemed out of place with the scene. Her patent leather shoes shone as she ran back and forth, chasing her dolls.

In her small hands, she held action figures, one of the Batman her father portrayed and another of the Joker, his eternal rival. The girl, no older than six, organized her battles with adorable seriousness. In a high-pitched, mischievous voice, she brought the characters to life, staging an epic duel between hero and villain.

“You won’t defeat me this time, Batman!” she exclaimed, raising the Joker figure with a malevolent laugh.

“I will stop you! I always do...” she replied with her other hand, giving voice to Batman, but with a childlike touch that contrasted with the darkness of the character.

Bruce watched the scene with a mix of tenderness and pain. He knew she wasn’t really there, that this vision was nothing more than a distant echo of what never was. Y/n, his little Y/n, had vanished months ago. And he… he had never given her the love she deserved, always wrapped in his own shadows, in his endless struggle to protect a city that never rested.

The air felt thick, heavy with nostalgia and regret. The girl continued to play, laughing, talking to her dolls, oblivious to the weight of the years, to the loss. And Bruce, although he knew it was an illusion, couldn’t look away; he couldn’t stop imagining what it would have been like to give her what he never knew how to offer. What it would have been like to see her grow, to laugh more, to run through those gardens with the carefree spirit only childhood allows.

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps interrupted the daydream. Alfred appeared at the garden entrance, always elegant, always with that air of discretion and understanding that only he possessed. He approached slowly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as if he understood the pain that kept him trapped in that scene.

“Mr. Wayne” he said in a low voice, filled with compassion, “it’s time to come back.”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, letting Alfred’s words seep into his consciousness. He knew what they meant. He knew that girl, in her 80s dress and her dolls, was nothing but an idealized memory, a distorted reflection of what never was. Because Y/n wasn’t like that. She didn’t like those old dresses; she had always preferred the fashion of the 2000s, with its vibrant colors and comfortable clothes. And she never enjoyed the chocolate cake now sitting in front of him. She liked carrot cake, simple and sweet, but he had never paid attention to those details when he still could.

How did he know those little details about his daughter? Bruce often wondered. It wasn’t because he had learned them by being close, because proximity had been a luxury he never allowed himself. No, those small fragments of her life he had discovered in the album that Alfred kept with an almost reverential discretion. That album was more than just an object; it was a silent refuge where Alfred had archived what the big house, always filled with shadows and echoes of footsteps that never came, had refused to hold.

The day the children learned of the album’s existence marked the beginning of a chaos he still remembered with a mix of exasperation and a contained smile. They had decided, like little conspirators, that treasure belonged to them. A kind of all-out battle had ensued in the mansion, something that over time acquired the quality of family legends.

Bruce, standing in the study, could still see the sparkle in Damian’s eyes, the intensity, the almost playful fury with which he had taken that assault as a personal mission. Damian, with his perpetual impatience, had been the fiercest of all. He vividly remembered how his youngest son had burst into the room wielding two katanas, with the cold precision of a millennia-old warrior, even though his hands were still too small to fully grasp the handles.

“It’s mine!” Damian shouted, with that mix of stubbornness and vulnerability that only the youngest possess, as if he could cut not only the air but the very uncomfortable silence that always floated between them.

“It belongs to all of us, Damian” Bruce had tried to intervene, with that authoritative voice that, curiously, never managed to control his own children as he did with the chaos of the city.

But Damian wasn’t listening. For him, the album was not just an object; it was a relic, a bridge to something he felt but couldn’t name. His sister Y/n, so distant in daily life, was closer in those pages than in any superficial conversation they had ever had. She was his sister, but not enough. He wanted those photos, those notes that Alfred had kept, he wanted to understand what it was about her that slipped away from him daily.

Bruce watched from the threshold, not really intervening. He let the chaos unfold, as if it were necessary. The children fought, but it wasn’t just for the album. They fought for something deeper, a kind of silent reclamation of what they had never been able to have: time, connection, perhaps even love. Alfred, from a corner, merely smiled with that quiet wisdom, knowing that those battles of childish katanas, of shouts and disputes over photos and notes, were actually the way they tried to find each other in a house full of absences.

Bruce sighed, remembering. Alfred had always known more than he did, always understood those invisible things that Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to, could never quite grasp. And so it was that he himself, at the end of it all, also ended up snooping in that album, with a silent curiosity he would never admit. There, in those carefully tended pages, he found his daughter. Or at least, he found the idea of her, the pieces of a life he hadn’t shared but that, somehow, had always been present in those photos, in those little notes that Alfred, more of a father than he was, had kept with such love.

“She won’t come back, Alfred... I lost her... maybe forever... ” Bruce murmured, his voice barely audible, as if admitting it aloud would make her absence more real—“and I… I was never there for her as I should have been.”

The old butler sighed, his tired eyes filled with infinite patience.

“It’s never too late to remember, sir. It’s never too late to honor her memory in the right way.”

Bruce opened his eyes, looking again at the scene, but this time more clearly. The girl had disappeared.

The wind blew gently through the Wayne mansion's garden, carrying away the murmur of the dry leaves. Bruce remained motionless, as if the weight of the years, of the mistakes, had turned him into another statue in that landscape. The aroma of coffee had dissipated, and the cake before him remained untouched. Y/n’s figure still floated in his mind, her laughter like a distant echo that wouldn’t fade but also wouldn’t console him.

Alfred, with the patience only a father at heart could have, stood by his side, his firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, as if in that gesture he could transmit strength to face the pain that gnawed at him.

“Mr. Wayne” Alfred began, his voice soft but laden with meaning, “the kids have gone looking for Y/n again.”

Bruce closed his eyes, allowing those words to sink into his consciousness. He knew all the Robins and Batgirls had been following leads, searching for answers in the darkest corners of Gotham, but the emptiness he felt remained overwhelming. They had failed so many times… what did another attempt matter? The city, always hungry for its heroes, seemed more a trap than a cause.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alfred” Bruce replied, his voice rough, worn down by years of struggle. “None of this will change what happened. Y/n… is gone.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred interjected, this time with a firmer tone, “Y/n is still out there. And as long as there’s a single chance to find her, you cannot allow yourself to give up.”

Silence stretched between them. Bruce’s gaze remained fixed on some point in the garden, lost in thought. But Alfred, with his usual insight, knew he needed more than empty words to awaken him.

“There’s something else,” Alfred added, taking a breath, “a new figure appeared last night during a robbery in the East District. They call her Kerosene. The White Bat. She was seen taking out a group of assailants in seconds.”

Bruce didn’t react. Kerosene. The city had always generated figures willing to fill the void he had left every time he stepped away, every time Gotham lost the light of its vigilante. But this time, he didn’t feel the urgency to learn more. What did it matter? He repeated to himself. Gotham already had its heroes.

“I don’t care” he murmured, his voice empty, as cold as the air surrounding the garden—“Let others deal with Gotham. Kerosene, the Joker, or whoever… the city doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alfred tightened his grip on Bruce’s shoulder, almost like a father refusing to see his son give up. He stepped forward, and this time his voice was lower but more incisive.

“This isn’t about Gotham, sir,” he said with an intensity Bruce hadn’t expected—“It’s about Y/n.”

Bruce lifted his gaze, his eyes finally meeting Alfred’s, as if those words had ignited a spark within him.

“If you don’t want to protect this city, do it for her ” Alfred continued—“Because you will find her, sir. I’m sure of it. And when you do… how would you want her to find you? Destroyed? Defeated? No. You need to be ready, you need to be strong, for her. Wherever she is, Y/n is still waiting for her father.”

Bruce felt the pain in his chest intensify, a constant reminder of his failure, but Alfred was right. Y/n was somewhere out there. Alive or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that as long as he didn’t find her, he couldn’t give up.

“The kids have done everything they can to find her,” Alfred said, softening his tone—“They’re still at it. Every day they search for new leads, explore new corners of Gotham… but there’s only one man who can put everything in order. There’s only one father who can bring her back.”

The air tensed between them, and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt a slight tremor inside. He remembered the moment he decided to become Batman, driven by the guilt and pain of losing his parents. Now, that same guilt, that same pain, called to him again, but this time, it wasn’t for Gotham. It was for Y/n. His daughter.

“Tell me, Alfred, who is this Kerosene?” Bruce murmured, finally reacting to the information Alfred had given him.

“Yes, sir. Her abilities are astonishing, according to reports. Agile, fast… but her true identity remains a mystery. Some say she’s just another vigilante trying to fill the void you left. But the important thing is that she is acting with lethal precision.”

Bruce stood slowly, leaving the cup of coffee on the table, already cold and forgotten. He looked at the empty garden, but this time, with a new determination blooming in his chest.

“If this Kerosene is connected… if there’s any link to Y/n, I will find out,” he said, his voice firmer, closer to the one Alfred had known for so many years—“And if not… then I’ll find her myself.”

Alfred nodded, a mix of relief and satisfaction reflected on his face. He had managed to awaken the man Gotham needed, but more than that, he had awakened the father Y/n deserved.

“ Very well, sir,he replied with a slight smile, always the unwavering servant—“The Batcave is ready for your return.”

Bruce turned toward the mansion, but not before glancing once more at the garden, where Y/n’s figure, so real in his mind, faded like morning mist.

Wherever you are, I will find you.

Richard “Dick” Grayson knocked forcefully on the old apartment door, the echo resonating in the narrow hallway of the building, where dust gathered in the corners like forgotten memories and the lights flickered as if trying to perform one last dance before going out. Beside him, Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter, crossed her arms, staring at the door with an intensity that could have splintered the wood.

Jason Todd, restless to his left, kept his gaze fixed on the doorknob, his body tense, as if each passing second brought him one step closer to breaking through that wooden barrier. Above, on the roof, Red Robin, The Spoiler, and Batgirl waited, shadows in a world that seemed to ignore their pounding hearts, ready to act.

“I don’t know why we always have to deal with the worst specimens of humanity,” Barbara murmured, adjusting her coat as she shot a sidelong glance at Dick, who seemed to have a plan in mind.

“Because we’re lucky,” Jason replied, sarcasm lacing his words, a crooked smile on his lips that didn’t quite fit the situation. “And when I say ‘lucky,’ I mean we’re carrying someone else's karma because we… are screwed.”

Dick knocked on the door again, this time with more force. The echo reverberated through the hallways, a declaration of intent.

“We should break it down. You know it’s not going to open just from a gentle knock,” Jason said, stepping forward, his intention clear and palpable.

“Calm down, Jason. Not all problems are solved with violence,” Barbara retorted, though a part of her knew that idea faded every time they found themselves in a situation like this.

“Sure, as if we have another option. Do you want me to schedule a tea date instead of kicking down the door?” Jason frowned, the tension palpable.

Finally, a sound came from behind the door. Chains, the metallic echo of locks being unlatched with a maddening slowness, as if someone on the other side knew that every second of wait was boiling the blood of the three standing before the door. At last, the door opened just enough to reveal a face: the landlord. A short man with small eyes and a slimy smile that seemed to ooze like dirty oil through his yellowed teeth.

“What do you want?” he asked in a thick voice, looking at Dick with suspicion, but his gaze soon dropped to Barbara, lingering unpleasantly on her figure, and then to Jason, who had already tensed the muscles in his jaw.

“We’re looking for Y/n Wayne L/n,” Dick said, trying to maintain his composure, the heat of anger threatening to overflow. “We know she lives here. And we know you know where she is.”

The man let out a laugh under his breath, a rusty squeak that resonated like a heavy joke.

“Ah, the pretty girl… yeah, yeah. And who are you all, huh?” he asked, his slimy tone sending chills that seemed to crawl over Dick's skin.

“It’s none of your concern. We just want to know where she is,” Barbara said, her voice firm and resolute, although the tension in her body betrayed her impatience.

The landlord tilted his head, like a cat playing with its prey, and smiled with a disturbing mischief.

“Well, if you haven’t found her in five months, maybe you don’t want to know,” he said, letting the words drop like stones in a pond, creating ripples of discomfort.

“I warn you, this isn’t a game,” Jason interjected, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t make me remind you what can happen when a man plays with fire.”

The man shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, although the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Jason's hand rested near his belt, right where he kept his gun, and although he hadn’t drawn the weapon yet, the threat was clear.

The landlord noticed but instead of being scared, he wore a repugnant smile, like a predator that had just spotted a wounded prey. His gaze shifted back to Barbara, and then, without the slightest respect, murmured something that made Dick’s fists clench.

“Ah, Y/n... yeah, I remember her. She came around when she had just turned eighteen. Good material, if you catch my drift. She looked innocent, but... those are the most interesting ones, right?” The man's gaze darkened, scanning Barbara again, as if evaluating merchandise.

“Say that again,” Jason growled, drawing his gun in a motion so quick that the landlord barely had time to blink before feeling the cold barrel pressed against his forehead. “And I swear I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

The words hung in the air, sharp, loaded with contempt and a lust that twisted like a snake inside him.

The man let out a cynical chuckle, relishing the moment.

“The last time I saw pretty Y/n was a while back. I don’t know what she’s up to now, but I kept some pictures of her and her friend.” His tone was defiant, almost mocking.

Rage was bubbling in Jason. His fists were clenched, a deadly spark in his eyes.

“What did you say?” His voice trembled between anger and control, like a string about to snap.

The landlord, feeling invincible, continued. “I don’t know if they’re lesbians, but seeing them together was quite the spectacle. Both of them were hot, you know?”

Jason could no longer hold back. The anger erupted like a volcano.

“Shut up!” he shouted, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence that had invaded the room.

Before the landlord could react, Jason pulled his gun, aiming with precision.

“I’m going to give you one chance. Tell me where Y/n is. Now.”

The man’s laughter faded, his eyes widening in shock. “Wait, wait, there’s no need to…”

“WHERE?!” Jason's voice thundered, firm and filled with rage, like a storm rumbling in the atmosphere.

The tension became palpable, the air thick with promises of violence.

“Alright, alright!” the landlord stammered, but Jason’s voice turned even colder.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“She just left for work at night and that’s it…” he started to say, but Jason could no longer hear. The man had photos of Y/n. Compromising, crude, and that simple mention ignited hell in his chest.

In an instant, the sound of an explosion resonated in the hallway, and the man fell to the ground, his silly smile erased by the terror that had overtaken his face. Blood gushed forth in a dark torrent, staining the floor and nearby walls.

Barbara covered her mouth in shock, while Dick stood frozen, stunned.

“Jason!” she exclaimed, but the image of the landlord lying on the ground with his vacant stare was etched in her mind.

Jason holstered the weapon, his breath rapid and uncontrolled. He had crossed a line, and in that moment, he realized there was no turning back. Anger had found a way to break free, but at a terrible cost.

“I won’t let anyone hurt Y/n again,” he murmured, his eyes filled with determination. No one else would stand in his way to find her, no matter the price he had to pay.

The room was saturated with the echo of the gunshot, and the silence grew heavy, almost palpable. Barbara took a deep breath, the anger sparking in her eyes as she looked at Jason, who still seemed dazed by the act he had committed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she said, her voice contained but sharp as a blade. “That’s why we didn’t bring Damian along, because he would have gone off just the same, but in a much more reckless way.” Her gaze fixed on the corpse, lying in a pool of blood, a scene that could have come from the mind of a disturbed artist.

Jason, with his chest heaving and jaw clenched, simply shrugged.

“I couldn’t just stand by. He knew something, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.” The fervor in his voice didn’t hide the confusion that was beginning to seep in, like the cold of the night creeping through the windows.

Barbara didn’t respond, but the silence that filled the room grew even denser when the others entered, alarmed by the gunshot. Tim, Stephanie, and Cass arrived, their expressions filled with concern that quickly transformed into indignation.

“What happened here?” Tim asked, his eyes widening at the scene. Blood slid across the floor like a dark river, and the landlord’s body faded beneath the flickering light.

“Are you crazy, Jason?!” Steph exclaimed, disbelief palpable in her voice.

Cass crouched down, her expression grave as she looked at the fallen man. She didn’t need to speak to convey her disapproval; every glance said more than a thousand words.

“It doesn’t matter how we got here,” Dick intervened, his authoritative tone trying to restore order. “We need answers. Let’s investigate.”

With a determined movement, Barbara approached the body, while Jason still breathed irregularly, as if the weight of his actions began to settle on him. Barbara looked around; the apartment was a dusty and sad place, filled with shadows that seemed to whisper secrets.

As the others searched, Tim found a series of photos pinned to the walls, each one showing Y/n and other women from the area, frozen laughter in time, trapped between moments that should have been happy. However, there was something unsettling about the way they were arranged, a disorder that seemed a declaration of possession.

“Look at this,” Tim said, pointing to the images. There was Y/n, always smiling, but next to her was a figure that couldn’t be ignored. The silhouette of Pamela Isley, better known as Poison Ivy, stood beside her, her red hair like a fire that seemed to consume the sadness of the place.

“Pamela…” Cass murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s been in Arkham for three months.”

Barbara moved closer, examining the photos more closely. “This is more complicated than we thought. Ivy has been involved, and that changes everything.”

Jason, still trying to comprehend the chaos he had unleashed, ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find Y/n. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Barbara looked at him, her expression one of challenge but also understanding. “We can’t do this recklessly. We have to be smart. Silent.”

The group nodded, realizing that the road ahead would be filled with dangers, but also promises of redemption. They were all willing to kill for Y/n, but they had to do it quietly, like shadows slipping through the streets at night.

“Listen, we’re going to find her,” Dick said, his voice resonating like a mantra. “No matter how many doors we have to break down, how many truths we have to drag into the light.”

And so, in the echo of the silence that followed the violence, the five united in a tacit pact, intertwining their destinies in the search for Y/n. Each lost in their thoughts, each remembering that shadows sometimes have the power to conceal not only secrets but also the light that clings to hope.

The shadows stretched as they moved away from the apartment, leaving behind the vestige of a dead man and the echo of trapped laughter. The search had begun, and Y/n’s fate hung in the balance, a thread of light in the darkness that promised to bloom amid the ruins of despair.

The city lights flickered in the distance, like lost stars in the asphalt.

The tears of Y/n fell onto the slippery ground, forming puddles that blended with the blood, a dark ruby staining every part of her thin body, as if sins were being tattooed onto her skin. The humidity of the place smelled of iron and fear, of broken promises and a destiny she had chosen but didn’t quite know how to accept.

“It doesn’t feel good, little one?” said the Doctor, his voice a bitter whisper echoing off the damp walls of the room. He, with his dirty blonde hair falling messily over his forehead, wore a white coat that looked more like a rag than a symbol of authority. A cynical smile spread across his lips, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than the fate he had designed for her. “Bathing in the blood of enemies, isn’t it an exquisite pleasure?”

Y/n, her gaze lost at a point on the floor, nodded slowly, as if each movement cost her an eternity. The blood, warm and sticky, slid between her fingers, a sensory experience that drowned her in contradictions. On one hand, there was a dark delight in the power that image conferred upon her, a power she had learned to wield. But on the other hand, there was an abyss of pain threatening to consume her.

“It’s…” she whispered, barely able to form words. Her voice trembled like a leaf in autumn, indecision etched in her features. Guilt suffocated her, and each tear that fell was a reminder of what she had lost, of what she had left behind.

“What is it?” asked the Doctor, leaning toward her, his eyes lit by a glow that was not exactly compassion, but rather a cruel satisfaction. His gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of her being, scrutinizing the dark corners of her soul. “Is it pleasure you feel, or is it fear?”

Y/n recoiled, feeling her skin burn under his gaze. The Doctor’s words tangled in her mind, forming a knot that seemed impossible to untie. Her voice, almost a cry for help, resonated in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.” The words shot out like arrows, but only managed to embed their tips in the empty air, finding no destination. She trembled, caught between repulsion and the desire to free herself from the invisible chains that kept her anchored in that place.

The Doctor let out a cold laugh, as if he were enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him. With a careless gesture, he threw another bucket of blood onto the floor, creating a small puddle that slid toward Y/n.

“That is the beauty of your situation, my dear. You have been chosen to cleanse Gotham of the scum, and along the way, you will discover that pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.”

“Chosen?” replied Y/n, her voice shaking with the fierce mix of disbelief and rage. “Chosen for what? To be your puppet?”

The Doctor stepped closer, letting the distance between them fade. His presence was oppressive, like a shadow that swallowed light.

“You are not a puppet, Kerosene” he said, pronouncing her name as if caressing it. “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution. The tears that fall now are the ashes of the old you, and it’s time you embrace what awaits you.”

Y/n felt the air grow dense, as if the Doctor’s words were trying to envelop her, to convince her. But there was a truth in his voice, an echo of what she had longed for deep within her being. Hadn’t she been searching for purpose, a place to belong?

“No… I don’t want to be what you’ve made me.” she said, though her voice sounded more hesitant than determined. It was as if reality slipped around her, like the slippery ground she stood on.

“Of course you do, Y/n.” He smiled, and there was something unsettling in that smile, something that made her feel she was on the brink of a revelation. “Your pain is the echo of the city, and you, little one, can be its savior.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, and Y/n felt herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, the possibility of becoming Kerosene, the force of vengeance and power. She fought against the idea, but there was a part of her that was beginning to awaken, to open like a flower in the desert.

“So, what do I have to do?” she asked, finally facing the reality that surrounded her. The tears, instead of being a sign of weakness, now seemed a recognition of her new identity.

The Doctor looked at her with a mix of satisfaction and complicity, like a teacher who sees the spark of greatness in his student.

“First, you must accept that the past does not define your future. The blood that surrounds you is only the first step toward freedom. Become what you have always been. Your destiny is to burn, and in doing so, illuminate others.”

Y/n felt the weight of her decision slowly fading away. By accepting her destiny, she had found a new way to free herself, a purpose that shone like fire.

“Then I will do it.” she said, her voice now firm and resonant, as if she were finally embracing the darkness that had always dwelled within her. “I will be Kerosene.”

The Doctor smiled, and in that smile lay a world of possibilities. Together, they could shake the foundations of Gotham.

“That’s right, my dear Kerosene.” He stepped back, allowing his figure to fade into the shadows..“And remember, every decision you make will be a step toward glory or toward downfall. The line is thin, and you are destined to cross it.”

“What about them?” Y/n asked, pointing to the shadows surrounding her, referring to the Waynes who remained silent in their luxurious prison of silence. “Where is Batman?”

The Doctor paused, his gaze turning serious and contemplative.

“Since your appearance, the Waynes have become shadows of what they once were. Batman has vanished, as if fear has locked him in his own game. They don’t want you to know the truth, and I wonder if, deep down, he fears what you are capable of.”

“Fears?” repeated Y/n, incredulity splattering her voice like a rain of dead stars. “Why?”

“Because the truth is that there is no longer space for the good in this city.” The Doctor stepped closer, his tone low but filled with fervor. “Soon you will go after the Court of Owls. We will expose those monsters in the streets, as they deserve, and they will have no one to defend them. Not even their beloved bat.”

A chill ran down Y/n's spine. The idea of stepping out into the night, of facing the villains who had ravaged her city, filled her with a strange power. She remembered Pamela, laughing amidst the shadows, her voice like an echo urging her to fight.

“I will not be their puppet. I do not want to be a pawn in a bigger game.” The words erupted from her with the force of an approaching storm, and the vision of Pamela dancing among the flowers filled her with a sudden sweetness.

“You will not be a pawn, Kerosene.” The Doctor smiled, and in his eyes was an air of admiration. “You are the queen in this game. Your vengeance will not only bring down those villains, but it will also seek the man behind the mask of Batman. We need to end him.”

“End him?” The question hung in the air like a trembling whisper. Her heart stopped for an instant, remembering the nights spent with Batman, the unspoken words, the caresses of an absent father.

“Yes. Because he, like them, has become a legend that needs to fall.”

Y/n felt the darkness looming over her, a shadow whispering promises of power and pain. But there was something more, a spark igniting within her, a fire burning with the strength of a new dawn.

“Then I will do it.” said Y/n, her voice resonating with a clarity that surprised her. “I will expose the Court of Owls and make my father see.”

The Doctor watched Y/n with palpable satisfaction, as if he had finally ignited a spark deep within her being. With a gesture of his hand, he made the invisible shackles that kept her trapped fade away. In that moment, a strange freedom slipped over her skin, a freedom laden with dark responsibility.

“Come, Kerosene.” he said, his voice now a hypnotic chant rising among the shadows. “There is something you need to see.”

He led her through a labyrinth of damp hallways, each step resonating like an echo of past decisions. The walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, tales of those who had fallen into the abyss before her. As they advanced, the light of day faded, and the gloom became an accomplice to their thoughts.

Finally, they reached the balcony of the building, a place where time had stopped its march. The Doctor gently pushed Y/n toward the railing, forcing her to look out over the vast expanse of Gotham that stretched before them. The city was a canvas of flickering lights and deep shadows, a portrait of intertwined chaos and order.

“Look, little one.” the Doctor whispered, his voice wrapping around her like a veil of mystery. “This is your city, a monster that feeds on the secrets you hold in your chest. The blood that stains your skin is a symbol of the struggle that lies ahead.”

Y/n leaned over the edge of the balcony, feeling the cold wind caress her bare skin. The city glimmered like a sea of dying stars, each light a story, each shadow a whisper of betrayal. The vision enveloped her, and for a moment, she felt like a spectator of her own destiny.

Her bare skin, still stained with blood, prickled at the chill of Gotham, a freezing breeze sneaking through the cracks of crumbling buildings, as if the city itself reminded her that she was alive, that darkness embraced her with its mantle of forgetfulness and despair. Each small contact of the air made her more aware of her vulnerability, and at the same time, of the power that blossomed from within her. It was a reminder that, amidst chaos, she was the spark of a new flame.

The puddles of blood that had stained her skin, silent witnesses to her transformation, shone like a dark ruby under the dim light of the moon. In that moment, each drop was an echo of past decisions, a symbol of the life she had left behind. And yet, in her mind, the Doctor's words echoed: “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution.” The irony of her state wrapped her in a sweet and bitter confusion; deep down, her nakedness felt like a release.

The city stretched before her, a vast ocean of twinkling lights and lurking shadows. Gotham, in its complexity, seemed to breathe, a living being pulsing with stories of pain and longing. The streetlights flickered as if about to go out, and Y/n felt that each flicker was a whisper calling her, a reminder that she was destined to be part of something much larger than herself.

As she gazed at the horizon, her mind filled with images: the faces of those she had lost, those she had loved, and those she had to confront. Her heart wrestled between the desire for vengeance and the longing for redemption.

“What do you see?” asked the Doctor, his eyes shining with an unsettling intensity.

“I see…” Y/n began, but the words slipped away like sand through her fingers. The city was a labyrinth of emotions, a stage where pain and pleasure intertwined in a macabre dance. It was a reflection of her own internal struggle, her desire for vengeance and her yearning for redemption.

“I see a sea of shadows, a stage where illusions collapse like houses of cards.” she finally replied, her voice echoing. “Each light, a hope; each shadow, a whisper of unhappiness.”

“Perfect.” The Doctor smiled, his face illuminated by an almost fraternal satisfaction. “Gotham is a mirror, and you are the light that can break the darkness. You must be able to see beyond what shines.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, tearing through the veil of confusion that enveloped her. In that instant, Y/n understood that every tear shed had fed the city, that every drop of blood on her hands was an echo of what she had lost. And yet, vengeance offered her a new purpose, a path into the unknown.

“The city cries for change, for a fire to purify it” she whispered, her voice gaining strength in the night breeze. “And I… I am that fire.”

“That’s right, dear.” The Doctor nodded, a mix of pride and malice in his expression. “The fire that will purify Gotham and, in its wake, consume everything that stands in your way.”

Y/n felt the air fill with electricity, a palpable current connecting her to the city, to its pain and desire. Deep within her, something began to change. She was no longer just a puppet; she was no longer merely the shadow of her past. She was Kerosene, the spark that would ignite the flame of change.

“But, Doctor, what about those who love the darkness?” she asked, her voice now an echo of what she had learned. “What if they cling to their shadow?”

The Doctor stepped closer to her, his penetrating gaze filled with complicity.

“Darkness is a possessive lover, but there is always a price to pay. The truth is that they cannot hold onto it forever. And when the fire burns, only those ready to be reborn will be saved.”

Y/n felt a mixture of anguish and determination. The city before her became a symbol of her internal struggle, a stage where light and shadow intertwined in an eternal game. Every street, every building, every corner whispered her name in a song of warning and challenge.

“And when the fire consumes everything in its path, will there be anything left of me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the fragility of a leaf in the wind.

The Doctor smiled, a smile that seemed to mock the questions still dancing in her mind.

“Perhaps, dear Kerosene, you will find yourself in the act of burning. Or maybe, you will fade into the ash. That is the enigma of transformation: in the fire, death is merely the prelude to a new beginning.”

As she gazed at the city, Y/n felt her identity fragment and fuse, in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The image of Gotham before her became a metaphor for the human soul, a reflection of the struggles everyone faced in the darkness. The city, with its chaos and its heartbreaking beauty, enveloped her like a hug.

With one last look at the flickering lights and lurking shadows, Y/n stepped back, a firm decision rising within her.

“There’s no turning back now” she murmured, her voice an echo of her new reality. “I will be the fire that illuminates this eternal night.”

The Doctor, with a gesture of approval, retreated into the shadows, leaving her alone in her revelation. As the city spread before her, a mantle of mystery and power, Y/n knew that the true journey was just beginning. The line between fire and ash was thin, and in her chest burned the certainty that by crossing it, nothing would ever be the same.

“So be it, Kerosene” she said to herself as the wind enveloped her in secret whispers. “Let the fire speak in your name and let the night receive your lament.”

And looking at Gotham, she understood that, in the end, her destiny was not merely to be a spectator, but an unstoppable force, a storm that would unleash chaos. And so, with her heart beating to the rhythm of the city, she prepared to embrace her truth, her fire.

☆

A/N — Here is the long-awaited third part of this series. Thank you for all the support and love you have given me. I decided to make this part longer (at the cost of not being able to include the last image :( ) so that you can enjoy it more.

I was reading your comments where you were asking if Y/n and the Doctor would have a romance (which horrifies me a bit :d, but it gave me an idea) or if he performed a lobotomy on her. Well, that will be answered in the next part or in a headcanon, whatever you ask me.

By the way, in the tag list, there are some users I couldn't add, sorry about that 😔. I really appreciate your understanding and patience. Your enthusiasm keeps me motivated to keep creating and sharing these stories. I hope you find this installment engaging and that it brings you the excitement and emotions you’ve come to expect from the series. Enjoy!

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @imnotdumbimstupif @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @sheepintherain @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @kiarst @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[hopeastrz]

PISCES AND NEPTUNE THROUGH THE HOUSES: where you are most iconic, ethereal and utterly unreachable‧₊˚⋅♡🪻 ༘⋆.

CHECK OUT SEPTEMBER SALE: fixed price on any and all of my readings 17 DOLLARS only.

Pisces is the sign that oozes allure, wherever it falls in your chart may tell you where you are most inspiring and hypnotizing to people, and they can never match you there!.

NOTE: enjoy this post and don’t forget to reblog, thank you for your support almost at 3k heheheh, lots of love xoxo!! ₊˚⊹౨ৎ

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 1ST HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE AC.

unforgettable, there’s something about your face that can’t be ignored, you may have a real unique sense of style, a unique face feature, or striking head and hair volume/color, there’s just something special about your appearance, that’s why you may find lots of people trying to copy your style!, but they can never match your confidence, not even close, and you may have a very spiritual and inspiring personality or outlook on life, your presence itself is also quite enchanting, truly the unreachable visuals.

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 2ND HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE 2ND HOUSE.

the way you handle money is unique, your scent, or the way you just don’t care about materialistic things in an era where you are judged by what you have and have not, you also like to keep vintage and high valued/high quality stuff as dear possessions to you, which makes people idolize the way you keep them & cherish them, same thing about the way you view your self worth, also you have an enchanting singing voice, or you’re music taste itself is iconic.

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 3RD HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE 3RD HOUSE.

Speaking about voices, you may have a very alluring way of talking, you may have a soft or a dreamy— almost sleepy and quite voice which makes people envious of the way you express yourself, alas they try copying your mannerisms constantly, your mind is also one of the most alluring things about you!, the way you think and view things— the way you have a bunch of interests that makes people surprised by your knowledge, or you’ve had had a very pristine early education (like you went to a very expensive school where you learned something valuable enough to be envied by) or you have a bunch of unique siblings, like they may be famous or just quite decent and loved.

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 4TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE IC.

People idolize where you come from, the country you grew up in or your family!, you may have a royal blood running through your veins (yep im exaggerating but your parents are loved), people may idolize your house, your mother, grandparents or always try to glamorize your childhood, also your femininity is very enchanting!.

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 5TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE 5TH HOUSE.

People idolize your talents, you may have many talents that you’re pretty good at!, you’re creativity is also iconic, people you date for a short period of time and places you go to for vacations— people get fascinated because you only pick the best places or people who look very magnetic and just different, like people be like ‘how did you pull this man!’ or they’ll just find them good after you choose to date them.

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE 6TH HOUSE.

You may have a very different daily routine that surprisingly makes sense?, like it may seem kinda messy but it really is effective, you also me be the type of coworker who puts alcohol in a flask or water bottle during work to pass the day, also you may be the one who comes up with the most iconic ideas, even though you feel shy to speak them out loud!, also your coworkers may be attracted to you!.

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 7TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE DC.

You are the ideal and perfect partner anyone could ever dream of, and im talking both in business and marriage!, you know how to make things easier for people around you, very helpful and ready to give all your resources to others without expecting anything in return, and that’s your iconic role, the way balance between things is very admired

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 8TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE 8TH HOUSE.

You’re a great secret keeper, and you cherish your privacy, which makes you unreachable, only few people know everything about you, about your past and goals, you may be very spiritual too!, and reading people is a talent of yours which makes you iconic, you’re emotionally intelligent and could easily know someone’s intentions towards you from the start which makes you so iconic, also you’re obviously an icon in the sheets too *wink*

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 9TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE 9TH HOUSE.

Iconic in the way you think, you don’t really have the same beliefs as everyone else, you are philosophical, very knowledgeable and quite educated, plus very very spiritual, you may enjoy reading fantasy novels, or you even write iconic novels yourself!, also you may have been found to be very hypnotic to people with you in uni, since you might’ve been seen unreachable around then!.

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE MC.

Your work speaks for itself, and your reputation may be the best thing about you, you are known to be innocent or very kind & compassionate, also unreachable!, your reputation is unmatched either good or bad, very strong work ethic too and dedication to your profession!, your bosses may feel that you’re very unreachable in your work ethic!.

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 11TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE 11TH HOUSE.

The most iconic and compassionate one in your friend group, you may be kinda different from them, like if they all date you don’t, if they all do certain things you probably wouldn’t, and people may find it hard to befriend you since you seem like an ideal friend and you may even be idolized on social media (nara smith has this placement), so don’t mistake this as you are lonely because something is wrong with you, everyone would really love to have you close

PISCES OR NEPTUNE IN THE 12TH HOUSE | PISCES DEGREES 12°, 24° ON THE 12TH HOUSE.

Very spiritual, your instincts are unmatched and truly unreachable, your dreams may suddenly come true, and you may also have a very strong self concept so work on it!, your subconscious mind is your way to be iconic, always trust it and have faith in yourself, i would recommend reading about law of assumption, neville Goddard and non-dualism!, you will go places if you used your mind right!.

[sky-scribbles]

I'm in awe of how well each god's attitude toward Aeor reflects their divine domains.

Emhira, the matron of Ravens, sees no reason not to bring the city down. Death is inevitable. The Raven Queen does not quarrel with resurrection, and she does not quarrel with killing, because all souls come to her, sooner or later - what's a few decades more or less? What's the point of risking herself and the family she's joined, the order she's created, for the sake of postponing death?

Ayden, the Dawnfather, is the god of light and life and growing things. Those druid levels aren't for show; he's the god of agriculture. He looks at Aeor and sees that a harvest may yet come from barren ground. It's not in his nature to tear out roots; it's his nature to help things grow. You can't heal everything. You always have to try.

Silaha, the Arch Heart, looks at Aeor and sees its beauty. It's full of magic. Silaha is not opposed to destroying Aeor, because beauty never lasts: a flower dies, a spell fades, a shining tower falls. But neither is he convinced that Aeor has to die, because beauty is something to be treasured and cherished. Let's relax, let's get a drink, let's think this through. Beauty is wonderful, whether it lasts or not.

Asha, the Wildmother, wants to survive, because that is what wild things do. Predators kill to eat, and prey kills to defend itself. Aeor has backed her into a corner, and her fangs are bared. Nature is death as well as life, nature is brutal, nature endures at all costs. Civilisation no longer speaks to her. She's hungry. She's angry. Her teeth are looking for a throat, ready to tear, ready to protect what is hers.

Trist, the Everlight, hears talk of death and says no. The Everlight, who has let herself fall in love with a mortal and have mortal children, even knowing how much it's all going to hurt. Whose nature is to see the worth in broken things, violent things, irredeemable things. Who looks at the cruelty of Aeor and does not deny it, but will not let anyone forget that everyone here is a person. The bravest of all of them, to look at Aeor and say this, too, is worth saving.

[qtboni]

╰﹒ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him <//3

C/W: none just clingy simon missing u in his sleep (pure fluff) !!

W/C: 944 bubs

Simon shifted in his bed, feeling the empty coolness beside him. He reached out, wanting to feel your warmth, but his hand met nothing but empty sheets and bed covers.

"Love..?" He whispers faintly, his voice filled with a quiet desperation to find you.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Simon slowly opens them to find you there, on the other side of the bed, lying with your back turned to him.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the position you're in, your legs flung out in a starfish, snoring the night away. It's a silly sight, but it cracks him up, and he can't help but chuckle softly.

"Baby..." Simon sleepily whines to himself, calling out to you. "C'mere.."

Simon gently moves closer to you, pulling on the sheets to free himself. You feel his arm encircle your waist as he pulls you towards his warm body, spooning you in his arms.

Your skin meets his, and the warmth from his body causes your heart to skip a beat. You feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, feeling peaceful and safe in his embrace.

As he holds you close, Simon's thoughts drift to you. He thinks about how soft he is for you, how you make him feel alive and whole, how he doesn't want to let go, ever.

You're his everything, his world, and he can't imagine life without you. He feels his heart swell with love for you, and the need to be close to you and hold you tight, to never let you go.

With you in his arms, Simon feels complete. He would do anything to keep you close, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of his life.

You're the love of his life, and he will never forget the moment he first held you close, feeling your heart beat against his own, and knowing that he had found his soulmate.

As he holds you close, Simon's body moves instinctively, nuzzling his face in your neck, wanting to feel your warmth, to be closer to you. He wraps his arms around you tighter, unable to bear the thought of ever being apart from you again.

The warmth coming from his body slowly roused you from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open as Simon's arms tightened around your waist. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, beating in time with yours, and your heart skipped a beat in response.

"Simon?" You called out to him, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

"I'm here, love," he whispered, his voice low and full of love, and you could feel his body pressing up to yours, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His hands softly carressing your waist and hips. You felt his breath upon your neck, his heart beating in yours, and you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudible.

As his arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and comfort wash over you. His voice was low and gentle, and you could feel the love and intensity in every word.

You loved him more with each passing moment; each time he held you, each time he told you how much he loved you, and each time you felt his heart beating against yours.

"I love you, too, Simon," you whispered back, further relaxing into his embrace as you pecked his bicep that was hugging you close by your shoulders.

You could feel the love and intensity in every part of his body, from the warmth of his breath against your neck to the way his heart beat in time with yours. You knew that you would always be by his side, loving him and cherishing him for all eternity.

As you drifted back to sleep, his arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go and wishing to always be this close. You could feel the love in every part of his body, and you knew that this was the love that could never be broken.

Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck, his breath warm and soothing against your skin, and you felt a pang of love and comfort wash over you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, unwilling to let you go even for a moment, and he held you against him, feeling your heartbeat against his chest.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his voice low and filled with all the love he felt for you as he cuddled you close.

"G'night..." you sighed dreamily and closed your eyes.

As you drifted off to sleep, with your head resting against his chest, Simon couldn't help the rush of affection for you. He knew that you were the love of his life, that he would do anything for you, and that he couldn't imagine a future without you by his side.

Holding you close to him, he felt your heart beating slowly and regularly against his chest, and he felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. Every fiber of his being told him that he loved you, that you were everything he had ever wanted in life, and that he would always be there to protect you, to love you, and to cherish you.

He whispers your name softly, almost inaudible, as he drifted off to sleep, holding you tightly in his embrace. The love and intensity in his voice, in his touch, and in his eyes, was overwhelming, and he knew that you felt it too.

navi / masterlist !

[rinawantstosleep]

𖹭༉‧°𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

bf satoru x fem single mom reader

wc: 1.1k

— a pair of troublemakers residing in your house; both of whom are (unintentionally!) dead-set on making themselves the death of you.

"I don't like your stupid, white hair." 

"And I don't like your boring, brown hair, buddy."

"W-well... well, I don't like your ugly, doo-doo face!"

"Your mama does." 

The two could go bickering like this for hours on end if you let them. What may seem to be a mutually digressive arrangement is actually an oddly adorable bonding in disguise. Satoru and your son put on a front of being annoyed at the other's presence, but you've never seen them apart for longer than a few minutes at a time. They've grown on each other; much like how moss grows on a statue that's been lingering out in the open. An indispensable cycle of life that's truly inevitable. 

"No, she doesn't! She doesn't! She likes... sof- sofis... sofistogated guys."

"You mean sophisticated?"

"Shut up!" 

You'd been terrified that your little one wouldn't have a father-figure to rely on anymore after you divorced your husband. However, it was something you had to do for his sake. The child deserved to live in an environment that wasn't always reeking of alcohol, where he wasn't subjected to the constant, drunk yelling of a pathetic excuse of a father who couldn't get his shit together and lazed around at home all day while you did all the work. If that meant that you'd have to raise him on his own, then so be it. At least he'd be raised properly. Signing those papers was, by far, the easiest decision you'd ever made. 

"I'm not shutting up because a kid in clothes too big for him is telling me to."

"You... you're the one always wearing tight clothes around the house to impress my mama."

"No, that's because I'm ripped. Gotta show off what I've got. And your mama loves that." 

"Oh, yeah? That means you show off your... your - um... ugly, doo-doo face!"

Would you regard it a miracle that Satoru just so happened to stumble into your life around that very time? Well, relatively. Meeting him wasn't something you'd planned, nor anticipated. The kind stranger who offered to pay for your order at a café a year ago has somehow, thanks to quite a romantic sequence of events, turned into your boyfriend; a rock to lean on for when you need the support. And, also, someone that your little one can look up to (with the fun, bonus benefit of the pair getting into silly, childish quarrels nine times out of ten). What is Satoru if not a three-hundred-and-thirty-six-month-old toddler, too? Puts your five-year-old to utter shame with the way he acts. 

"Enough. Baby, we've been over this before. Behave."

"But, mama, he's being a meanie!" "But, babe, he's acting all pretentious." 

The responses come simultaneously: one is high pitched and whiny, and the other is your son. Sometimes, you have to pause and ask yourself how you haven't gone insane yet. It's the love that keeps you from falling apart. How could you ever harbor any other feeling for these two, except for wanting to cherish them? You just... need to work on a pet name that doesn't apply to the both of them at once.  

"I don't want to hear it. Sweetie, finish your lunch. And, Satoru?" 

"Yes, honey-who-loves-me-and-my-'ugly, doo-doo'-face?" He's smirking, snickering, while saying this, the sly bastard. When will the pair ever relent on trying to one-up the other? 

"Why have you got one of my hair ties on your wris- never mind. Don't forget to change the sheets in our room. I'd do it myself if not for the meeting I need to get to in an hour." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Cue a tiny gasp. 

"But, mama..." The voice of your little one breaks the peaceful silence at the dining table once again. His legs start kicking back and forth - a sign that he's growing restless - from the chair they're dangling off of. He's got a protest already forming up in that head of his. "Toru said he'd take me to the skate park today. And he promised to get ice cream after."

Toru, huh? That's new. You can't help the smile that paints itself on your lips. The two have been getting along pretty well, it seems, contrary to all the bickering they do. That's always nice to know. It's amusing to see the dynamic they've built. One second, they're riling each other up to no end, the next, they've already formed a secret alliance to go out and have fun together. How cute. "Is that so?"

"Mhm! So that means we need to leave riiight after I finish my lunch. Don't get mad, okay?" 

It's the small things like these that warm your heart. Some sacrifices can be made if it's in regards to this adorable (step, even though you haven't married Satoru yet)father-son moment. The sheets are insignificant right now. "Awwh. Of course I won't get mad, baby. It's good for you to want to spend more time with Satoru. Isn't he a fun guy?"

"... maybe." 

. . . 

"Just make sure he's safe out there. Helmet and gear on at all times, no big ramps. And don't let him eat too much sugar. He'll get hyper. Once the rush dies down, he'll get cranky -"

Satoru's arm wraps around your waist before you can finish your sentence, pulling you overwhelmingly close to his frame. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck, just the way Satoru likes it. Oh, how he wants to just throw everything else out the window and drag you to the nearest room with a lock in place.

"You -" A quick peck to your lips, followed by a nibble on your bottom lip. "- worry -" Another peck. "- too -" Another. "- much." Then, an unexpected bite on the shell of your right ear. "I'd never allow myself to let that little demon get hurt; or hyper."

Large hands wander across the curve of your back, resting firm on your butt. Satoru doesn't want to expose your son to the way he's squeezing your plush flesh with his long digits, so he shifts to have your back pressed against the wall. A perfect opportunity to kiss you - which the man can't help but seize. What else is a smitten boyfriend to do while waiting for your son to get ready and come down from his room upstairs? Lips against lips until one of you pulls away for air. "He's safe with me, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Atta girl. Now, you go to that meeting of yours. And, tonight, after we both get back- oww."

"Groooss! Don't kiss my mama, or you'll make her ugly! Like youuu!"

"Baby, no. Don't kick Satoru's ankles-"

"I'm saving you, mama."

with 𖹭, rina !!

[sinkovia]

Simon Riley hated photographs, but still, you begged him to take pictures together, eager to preserve the precious memories you created.

Simon, glued to his convictions, had always refused no matter how many times you begged.

But what if our memory is not enough? What if we forget what we had together?

I promise you, love. As long as I'm breathing, I'll never let that happen. Our memories will always be enough for me.

Out of respect for his wishes, you had reluctantly ceased your requests, choosing to cherish the moments you shared in the fleeting present. You got rid of all the old photos of yourself, telling yourself that if Simon didn’t need them neither did you.

Now, standing alone before your casket, Simon's regret weighed heavy on his heart like an anchor dragging him down into the depths of despair. He longed for a tangible memento of your time together, a photograph to serve as a beacon of light amidst the darkness of his grief. 

But time, that relentless thief of memories, had a cruel way of distorting even the most cherished recollections. 

With each passing year, the image of you grew increasingly hazy in his mind, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Desperate to hold onto the essence of you, Simon turned to the only medium he knew.

Drawing.

With trembling hands and a heavy heart, he painstakingly sketched your features from memory, pouring his soul into each stroke of the pencil. 

But the passage of time had a way of eroding even the most vivid memories , and each attempt to capture you resulted in a different interpretation, leaving Simon haunted by the ever-shifting image of the one he loved.