#I can only talk about them in a platonic sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acid-ixx · 6 months ago

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ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1, chapter five pt 2,

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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areislol · 11 months ago

Text

being transported into their world

►— pairings. honkai star rail men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. nothing really, not proof read 🙅🏻‍♀️, caelus is the trailblazer, romantic but you can see it was platonic if you want to! girls in the astral express are mentioned for a bit, i mentioned both dan heng and imbibitor lunae so don't mind that! mentions of self attempt/bodily harm for blade, boothill is ooc probably, spoilers of penacony quest, skipping herta space station (will be mentioned in other chapters though!), sahau (self aware honkai au)

►— synopsis. their beloved creator, the one who created many worlds, including theirs, had yet to return after thousands of years. but lately, they've been experiencing strange things, feeling like a heavenly, divine figure loomed over them. could it possibly be their one and only creator?

►— a/n. i've been thinking about a self-aware au but a honkai star rail version for a couple of weeks now after my reverse isekai'd genshin sagau series. also this may be a bit biased towards dang feng (imbibitor lunae) because uh i like him, maybe you can tell?

►— wordcount. 4.5k

part 2

for days they've felt uncomfortable, well, slightly. it only began to happen a couple of months ago when they felt as if something, no... someone was controlling their every movement and choice.

during their adventures, they felt an unsettling sensation creep upon them like a shadow in the night—a feeling of being watched, of a presence looming over their every move.

the presence was overwhelming, their body would stiffen, and they felt as if something like a heavy, invisible blanket was casted upon them.

at first, the passengers in the astral express dismissed it as mere paranoia, attributing it to the heightened tension of their journey or maybe the warping effects in the train. but as days passed and the sensation persisted, they couldn't shake off the unnerving feeling that they were not alone, that someone or something was observing their every action.

at times, they would catch fleeting whispers carried by the wind, faint voices that echoed in the corners of their minds. yet, despite their efforts, they could never make out the words, the words slipping through their grasp like elusive dreams.

as the feeling grew more pronounced, thoughts began to gnaw at their consciousness. who or what could possibly be speaking to them? why is it that every now and then they would feel a sudden boost and surge of power?

they knew deep down that the only being in the universe could make them feel that was,it could be no other than their creator.

the mere thought that their creator was dropping hints of their arrival was exciting. and only when the astral express crew noticed how each and every one of them felt the same exact things—looking around the moment they heard a voice, their body in sync as they tensed up... it was all too coincidental not to notice.

as they talked with one another and pieced the puzzle pieces together, using the information they found along the way travelling to each region, it all became clear.

it was a pivotal moment in their journey, the truth was revealed. in a flash of realization, they discovered that the presence they felt, the elusive voice they heard, was none other than their creator—the architect of their existence, the mastermind behind their trials and tribulations.

dan heng, himeko, welt, march and caelus had a hunch that it was their beloved creator, it couldn't be anyone else. everything added up, everything made sense. they acted like mad scientists, scurrying to their rooms and digging around every nook and cranny of their room, finding any evidence and papers that mentioned you, the creator.

as they all met up back on the train they carefully placed each and every newspaper and article about you. they had to make sure that it was really you. some of the articles that dan heng bought were from way back, thousands of years ago, he refused to tell anyone where he had gotten them from.

"in the vast expanse of the universe, where time flowed like a meandering river and galaxies danced in an eternal cosmic ballet, there existed a being unlike any other—a being known simply as a creator. born out of the primordial chaos, the creator was a solitary entity who traversed the endless void, seeking purpose in a universe devoid of meaning.

for millennia, the creator roamed the expanse, witnessing the birth and death of stars, the rise and fall of civilizations, and the ebb and flow of cosmic energies. yet, amidst the vastness of space and time, the creator found itself consumed by an overwhelming sense of ennui, a profound boredom that gnawed at their very essence.

then, the creator embarked on a journey of creation—a quest to fill the void with worlds of its own design, to sculpt realities from the raw clay of the cosmos. with a mere thought, the creator breathed life into barren planets, adorned them with oceans and mountains, and populated them with a myriad of creatures both strange and wondrous.

as creator delved deeper into their newfound passion, they discovered a love for the act of creation—a love that transcended time and space, a passion that ignited a fire within its soul. with each world it fashioned, each story it crafted, the creator found solace in the act of shaping reality, in the sheer joy of bringing something new into existence.

for six thousand years, the creator laboured tirelessly, weaving tapestries of worlds and galaxies, each one a testament to its boundless imagination and creative prowess. from the smallest blade of grass to the mightiest empires, the creator poured their heart and soul into every facet of creation, infusing each world with a unique charm and character all its own.

yet, amidst the infinite expanse of its creations, the creator remained a solitary figure—a godlike being adrift in a sea of its own making, forever yearning for companionship in a universe devoid of peers. and so, the creator continued their eternal quest, weaving worlds out of boredom and growing a love and passion for creation that would endure for eternity. and we, this universe, was crafted by none other than the creator, the place we call home. it is said that only after six thousand will the creator return to us, to watch over us once more."

the article itself looked worn, it wasn't signed by anyone, and no one knew who wrote it, or how they got the information. but it seemed plausible. millenniums... it has been well over six thousand years, it was about time the creator descended.

they had to be prepared, they had to tell the rest of their friends and families, the world. as much as they would like to keep the information to themselves they knew that you deserved a much better, bigger and more beautiful welcome.

sampo, gepard and luka were more than stunned and nervous, to say the least. their creator... was finally returning back? upon hearing the news from caelus they were sceptical at first, deep down they really wanted to see you in your glory, to finally meet the creator, but at the same time, it was nerve-wracking.

what should they say? what should they do in preparation and celebration? what gifts and offers should they give to you? nothing would do. they were positive that anything they bought, even if it got them in debt, would suffice. you deserved more than a measly couple of dishes and the most delicate and fitting garnets.

it was embarrassing really, their hearts racing as they tried their best to think of what to bring to your feet. but one thing they all had in common was their loyalty to you. if it was their life you wanted then so be it.

sampo is sampo, he was sure that his creator's glory and attractiveness were over the top, he would be sure to compliment you as many times as his mouth could allow, but he was sure that your beauty would be intimidating. no matter your looks your presence was more than enough.

gepard is nervous. his mind is full of "what ifs" and "what should i.." not even his sister can calm him down. every morning and night when he closes his eyes he's anticipating the day his sister barges into his room, yelling that the creator had finally descended. although he isn't quite sure of what to offer you he knows that whenever you need him, whatever you call him for he will be there in less than a minute, by your side or feet if you prefer.

whatever you ask of him, whatever favour you need from, he will never say no.

luka on the other hand is absolutely pumped to meet you! he had heard stories of you when he was a child, and from the stories told by the adults they described you as a kind being, who soon fell in love with the art, beauty and joy of creating. well, their most favourite was creating worlds.

he was absolutely sure that you would be the most kindest, heavenly person he had ever met, what was there to worry about now? luka knew that if he ever laid eyes on you he would fall in love no doubt, he would do anything for you. maybe you would agree to watch his wrestling matches?

jing yuan, blade, imbibitor lunae, and luocha are the most excited of all, sure, everyone is elated to finally meet you with their very own eyes. but them? oh lord... they all believe to be your worshipper, having heard tales of you from their parents, this alone caused them to be awe and love-struck with you.

they were a firm believer in you, you did no wrong in their eyes. all your actions and words were justified. they followed your principles, they made sure to announce their presence every time they came to your altar and placed down the most expensive jewels, dishes and gifts. (they had a shrine of you at home don't worry)

jing yuan was the one of the firsts to get hints that you were finally returning, the divine foresight fu xuan always looked so weary and cautious, but as time grew she began to be more... happy and elated, yet everytime he questioned her she was tense up and smile like it was nothing. and only when he pried did she say that she saw things, saw a blurred face, and heard a voice. "don't be alarmed... i'm here to tell you that.."

he made sure that everyone who worked under him and every prominent person knew of this, he began to make preparations of your arrival, he cancelled all meetings and plans, only focusing on you and your arrival. everything had to be perfect. he had even forgotten about the wanted criminal blade. jing yuan booked the most fanciest restaurant for a month max, he wasn't sure when you were coming, of course, so a month it was.

jing yuan prepared every entertainment and paid the orchestra, he wanted everything to be perfect, even the most minuscule details.

blade's loyalty was and is only for you and only you. he may be cold and stone-hearted (we all know it's false) but if it's you... whatever you ask for he will do it no doubt. he refuses to take orders from a stranger even if it is his friend, but if it's you? say no more. blade knew you were a kind soul, you needed protection from the other so-called "enemies" (he proclaimed it!).

he swore that you saved his life, years ago when everything was tumbling down, when his feelings got the better of him, he tried doing the unthinkable, as he blacked out he suddenly "saw" something.. a beacon of light, it was magical and airy, he tried his best to grasp onto the light but obviously could not.

it floated further and further away, and he followed it, his eyes glued only on the beacon of light. as it stopped moving, so did he, he continued staring at the light as it shrank into a ball, it didn't speak, it didn't look anywhere, it stayed there. suddenly he woke up, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. what was that?

sweat clung to his forehead when jingliu found him, concerned she rushed over to him, he refused to say a single word. he was left perplexed. what was the ball of light? why did he feel so at ease? why did it only appear after he...

he would make it his mission to meet you before the rest do other than the astral express crew and become your bodyguard, even if you deny his offer he will stick with you no matter what. of course, he would respect your boundaries but he knew that you didn't have the heart to deny anyone, especially your creation.

imbibitor lunae absolutely adores you, even if he was reincarnated the memories still pass on. and the tales being told by the grown-ups were famous around his area and still is. from the earliest days of his existence, tales of the creator had woven themselves into the fabric of his consciousness, painting a portrait of a being of boundless kindness and infinite compassion.

as a child, imbibitor lunae had listened with rapt attention to stories passed down through generations, tales of the creator's benevolence and the miracles they wrought upon the world. and in the quiet moments of the night, he would gaze up at the starry expanse above, whispering prayers to the creator, his heart overflowing with admiration and reverence.

when news of the creator's imminent return after six thousand years reached his ears, his heart soared with unbridled joy. in no time he set about preparing for your arrival, pouring his heart and soul into crafting the perfect gifts to present to his divine benefactor.

drawing inspiration from the tales of old, he fashioned intricate trinkets and tokens of his affection, each one imbued with his unwavering devotion and love. amidst the swirling maelstrom of feelings, one thing remained constant: his unwavering love for the creator.

imbibitor swore that once he felt or sensed a sign that would be arriving he would immediately act, he would be the first to meet and lay his eyes on your divine figure. slap him as many times as you want if you found it rude, he would only thank you.

luocha, despite remaining calm and composed on the outside, internally, he was freaking OUT. luocha found himself grappling with a myriad of conflicting thoughts and emotions. on one hand, he felt a profound sense of excitement at the prospect of meeting the creator, the architect of his existence and the source of all that he held dear.

yet, on the other hand, he couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of inadequacy, the fear of not being able to live up to your expectations.

his mind raced with a flurry of possibilities. what gifts would you appreciate? what could he offer to express his gratitude and reverence for the being who had breathed life into his world? with each passing moment, the weight of the impending meeting pressed down upon him like a heavy burden, filling him with a sense of anxiety.

despite his inner turmoil, luocha maintained a facade of calm and composure, determined not to let his anxieties show. with a steely resolve, he set about meticulously planning and preparing for your arrival, carefully considering every detail in his quest to find the perfect gift.

he even resorted to asking the children about what gifts he should bring, and yes, they did laugh at him but helped him nonetheless.

from ornate trinkets to rare treasures, luocha spared no effort in his search for the ideal offering, pouring his heart and soul into each carefully chosen item. yet, even as he laboured tirelessly to ensure that everything was perfect, doubts continued to gnaw at the edges of his mind, although one thing was for sure, if you didn't like any of his gifts he wouldn't be upset rather, maybe all you wanted was his whole body and life, and he would not hesitant once to give it up for you.

they all couldn't wait to meet you.

aventurine, sunday, gallagher and boothill are freaking out. horribly. mainly aventurine.. once the news had reached them from the astral express that it was possible (about 98%) that you were the comet arriving in a week... oh boy were they NERVOUS. everything HAD to be perfect. they had everything to thank you for, during their life and death situation they were lucky enough to survive—thanks to you.

it was only natural to return the favour, you created them, their personality, their arms, legs, their body, you sculpted their face, you made them. you made the very world they live in right now, the world they call home... they were sure you were by their side, making them make the right decisions and the right thing. aventurine? oh, the amount of MONEY he will spend buying everything he thinks you'd like, the fanciest, most elegant and most expensive shoes, clothing and accessories. he would rent out an entire week or months of work at a restaurant if you'd like to dine alone or with a couple of people. he knows his luck is a part of him, he can only pray that he'll meet you first with his luck.

sunday... just the sound of your name makes him tear up. he could've sworn that one time you spoke to him, your other-worldly echoing voice speaking to him directly about the loss of his dear sister. and here he stood in his room, looking out the window, and in the far distant a light shimmering as it swiftly dived down. a shooting star. he knows that with everyone getting the news they're all aiming to be the first to meet you, and trust me, he does want to meet you FIRST. the second you land he'll be there right with you and guiding you to safety—penacony.

but first, he must pinpoint where exactly you'll land. and with his power and influence he will most definitely try his best to find you and be sure to hide you from everyone else... he needs you, desperately.

gallagher and boothill have exactly the same thoughts. to present themselves good to you and spend every minute and second with you. but with everyone gossiping and spreading rumours about your arrival it's hard to be unique. everyone wants to be with you, everyone wants your favour. but they could never worship you as much as them. they had dreamed of this moment, it seemed unreal to meet their own creator but nonetheless, they clung to their hope and boy did it not go to waste.

boothill basically pauses any mission he needs to complete, that can wait. you are eternal. he's practically on edge with the fact that at any moment the comet would crash through and there you'd be, dozing peacefully.. like an angel. he won't hesitate to cause some trouble or initiate some violence if it means that they don't get to see you first.

gallagher on the other hand tries to stay hidden and in the shadows. of course, he'd like to meet you face to face but with the feeling of an overwhelming and looming divine presence, it's all too much. and if that's too much then what would he feel when you stand right before him? he's like an overprotective dog, fiercely loyal and clingy. even if you can't spot him he'll be right there, lurking and watching.

dr. ratio and argenti are absolutely and 100% loyal and would do EVERYTHING in their power to meet you, even a glance would do, anything to feed their curiosity and desperate need to know the creator. so when they get wind that you were supposedly descending down... they freeze on the spot, their breath hitches as their eyes widen. could it really be?

dr. ratio was always a curious boy, and he has you to thank for giving him consciousness and the opportunities to venture out and earn knowledge and eventually spreading his knowledge to his students (preaching i guess you can say). he's a bit biased when it comes to talking about you to his friends or students, and speaking your name in a more positive light, not that anyone minds, if anything they agree!

although he isn't much of a gifter or "i'll spend my money on you" he's more of a "anything you want just tell me". if you told him to drop his precious books to come and tend to your needs he would do it in a heartbeat.

to argenti you are the standard and epitome of "beauty". the beauty he has been searching for his entire life. he intends to shower you with compliments and roses freshly picked by hand unless you're allergic or not a fan of flowers, fear not! compliments should do! be ready to be bombarded with such positivity, compliments and gifts from the knight of beauty.

anything you wish for he will try his utmost best to get it done perfectly and quickly. "your hair looks so pretty like this..." say no more, he will always style it and keep it exactly like that! "my feet feel so sore from all the walking" ?!!? why is his dear walking anyway!?!? don't worry, he'll massage it for you! "ugh all this work is making me tired" move aside, let him do the honours!!

It was a long ride home from work, you were currently in an almost empty bus, glancing over the top of your phone you read the time. 11 P.M.

Was it that late already? You knew this office job would be the death of you. You never wanted to work at a place like this, the cubicle life bored you and it was just so... depressing. That was the only way to describe it.

You decide to pass the time by playing your all-time favourite game: Honkai: Star Rail. The soft glow of the screen illuminated your face as you began to grind relics and exp for an upcoming character. It definitely worked in keeping you busy and awake as time passed by slowly.

All was well, everything was fine. You had everything planned in your head. Get home as soon as possible, take a nice warm and rejuvenating shower, get five hours of sleep, go back to work and repeat.

The more you thought about your daily routine the more you realised how depressing it was, but what could you do? That job was the only one that was hiring and had average pay and things like that are rare, especially when you decided to live in the city which was your first mistake.

You were barely getting by in the city, the crime rate increased, there were more breaks in, pickpocketing and murder. But despite all of that you decided to rent an apartment where it was less populated, the rent in the heart of the city was way too high.

Pushing all those thoughts and information aside you let out a defeated sigh, leaning your head on the window as you continued to tap away on your phone.

If only life went just a little bit easier on you.

Everything was fine. The silence was comfortable and the low, soft rumble of the engine kept you awake, until a loud deafening crash jolted the bus, sending people flying and falling onto the ground.

Letting out a scream you grabbed onto whatever you could to keep you steady—the head of the chair in front of you. Although it didn't do a good job of keeping you still you couldn't care less, because as you lifted your head, your eyes caught something massive charging straight at you, and before you could react, a blinding light engulfed you, followed by an eerie silence.

When you regained consciousness, you found yourself tightly packed against something dark and rocky. Just great! Something had happened to the bus and knocked you out.

You looked around, it was pure blackness, like a void. Maybe this was what happened after death... Out of all things and especially the time too!

Feeling confused and scared you try to move your body to shift into a more comfortable position but due to the lack of space, you could barely even move an inch.

Suddenly, a crack was heard. And you froze.

Then another crack, and another, the darkness began to crack and splinter and not long after half of the egg-shaped looking ball broke in half as it fell to the side.

Shards of obsidian-like material fractured and scattered around. A large amount of dust, and shiny glitter-like specs flew everywhere, it was extremely dusty.

Unfortunately, you inhaled the smoke, coughing and sputtering, you waved their hand in front of your face, trying to dispel the particles as you squinted against the harsh light that slipped through the smoke.

As the dust settled and the steam dissipated, your surroundings gradually came into focus. You found yourself in front of... one, two, three, four, and... five.... wait.. what?

Right before you stood four male figures (with the other seemed to have a more feminine build), male figures that looked awfully familiar to you for some odd reason, just why was that?

You were confused and curious as you surveyed your surroundings, realizing that maybe this was death? You would've never guessed that "life" after death would look like this. It was very.... interesting.

The buildings that surrounded you were intricate and otherworldly. Dazzling celestial landscapes and luminescent structures piqued your interest as you slowly and carefully stepped out of what you assumed was a shell.

Its' architect and infrastructure reminded you of something, it seemed nostalgic—as if you've seen this exact building before. The more you observed and watched, your eyes tracing every precise curve and detail of the buildings your heart began to pick up its pace.

Your eyes searched every corner and inch, and finally, it landed back on the five figures you had spotted before and it wasn't until you caught sight of familiar faces that you were certain that you had to be hallucinating somehow after death.

There, standing in a circle, were figures that you could hardly believe were real: Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, and Bronya. It was unmistakably them.

Their presence, their unmistakable aura of reverence, left you no doubt.

They watched you, their gazes filled with awe and admiration as if you were the embodiment of some long-awaited prophecy (and in this case, it was).

You were in disbelief. Disbelief that you had somehow been transported into the very game they were playing moments ago, but now they were tangible, real.

It was a long silence, it was both comfortable and uncomfortable with their longing gaze. You remained still as you checked around your surroundings once again before settling your eyes back on the group of people.

At your gaze they felt a shiver down their spine, and the hair on their skin stood up.

"W—Who are you guys?!" You yelled, narrowing your eyes to see if it was truly the characters from the game you adored.

Dan Heng's breath hitched at the sound of your booming voice, your voice... it was just like how they described what you would sound like in the carved stones and ancient scrolls.

The more he stared at you the more he wanted to come to you, to kneel down at your feet and profess how long he has been waiting for this moment.

With his eyes trained on your figure, he steps closer, Gepard notices and swiftly stops him from moving any further with his arm. Dan Heng looks to his side, confusion strewn on his face.

Not a single word was spoken yet with a stern gaze and the shake of a head, Dan Heng understood. Now was not the right time.

Minutes passed by in complete and utter silence, it unnerved you. Why were they so quiet? So watchful?

Finally, after what felt like hours, the silence was broken just with a couple words.

"We have been awaiting your arrival, Your Gracefulness."

note: after 5 months WOW. i've been so busy with things i haven't had the time to really sit down and work. I'm so sorry everyone!

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(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)

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pizzapottah · 5 months ago

Text

legitimacy

summary: “Vaemond Velaryon’s petition holds no sense,” it is said that the Wandering Princess reiterated once she heard of her uncle’s accusations. “My late father always recognised my brothers as his trueborn sons. Whether they look like him or the Baratheon and Arryn side of the family does not matter: they are legitimate.”

pairings: cregan stark x velaryon!reader (no use of y/n), platonic (familial) relationship between the targs/velaryon and reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mentions of killing off someone🥰, reader is pro-blackwood, reader has some kind of anger issues, oscar is my babygirl and my babygirl only, language as always

author's note: an update of the heir and the wolf? in this economy? also pls don't comment about tagging, click here and join the taglist so that it's easier for me to tag everyone

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You’re sure you are going to kill every man and woman in the Riverlands till only their fantastic wine — without which you wouldn’t have made it this far — and vineyards remain, so that you can drink in peace without dealing with… the consequences.

Lord Bracken has been sprouting nothing but insults and curses towards the Blackwood family for what feels like the last three hours. He surely hasn’t talked without being interjected, as Alysanne Blackwood has been responding to all his insults with doubled hate.

You stare over at Oscar, sitting beside you, with an unamused expression. “Once we get out of here, I’ll make sure to break your legs in half as punishment for having me subjected to this torture,” you hiss, hand clenching around your goblet. He shrugs. “Didn’t you say to ask you if I ever needed anything? I needed help just this once, or else I would’ve cut my ears two hours ago.”

Of course Lord Tully had to fall ill when there were matters to resolve, leaving his eldest grandson in charge. You wish Kermit was born first, so that you wouldn't have to sit here and hear all of these people complain.

You huff. “Better your ears than my sanity.”

The thing that worries you the most is the fact that they seem to have no intention of stopping yet — and they’ve been going on for ages, accusing each other of heinous crimes committed by their ancestors or something. You’re not quite sure about that, as you’ve stopped listening to their rants about ten minutes in.

You glance at the servant standing by the door of the council chamber, who’s about to turn the hourglass for the fifth time now. When he does, it’ll officially be two hours and a half into them talking about their centuries-long feud. You have to do something, or else you’ll go mad.

You cough loudly, and the two sides of the discussion shut up, looking at you. The table is rectangular and long, wide enough so that nobody can smack the person in front of them with ease. You sit at the end of it, a map of the Riverlands in front of you, Oscar sat to your right. “So,” you start, “have you all got it out of your systems? Can we start now?”

Both sides look at you puzzled, and for a moment you fear they might go back to screaming, but they don’t. “Lord Samwell, Lord Amos, could you both raise your hands for me? I forgot your faces when you started screaming because I thought I was back in Dragonstone with my younger brothers having a tantrum about a toy — they are six and three, by the way.”

Red-faced, both lords raise their hands; Lord Amos is a bit older than Lord Samwell, his face sickly and hair grey, a high contrast to the Blackwood's dark brown hair and plump face. “Good. Now I would like you two to choose a spokesperson that will talk in your places.”

Lord Samwell raises an eyebrow, “Pardon me?” he says, as Lord Amos raises from his seat. “This is an outrage! Why should we choose someone else to talk in our place? We can definitely settle this matter once for all alone!”

You raise an eyebrow at his antics, motioning over a guard to make him stand back down. “Well, if you could settle this matter alone I wouldn’t be there, would I?” you ask him with a short laugh. “Besides– don’t you still have the scar Lord Samwell kindly gifted you back in the days where my mother was looking for a husband? I don’t want the two of you to settle your matters alone if it means someone being stabbed again.”

“We would be perfectly capable of doing it now–”

“Choose a spokesperson or don’t speak, Lord Amos, as you have already talked enough for my likings. The choice is all yours.”

The guard now stands behind him, hand on the pommel of his sword, and the lord begrudgingly sits back down. “I shall name my uncle, Ser Lothar,” Ser Lothar is an old man with white hair and no beard, who looks like he’s seen the rise and fall of all the Gods in the world and death herself.

You don’t say anything, even if you’d like someone who doesn’t look like he’s a night away from dying. “Lord Samwell?”

“My sister, Lady Alysanne,” is his resolute response. Ah, the lady who was screaming at Lord Amos earlier. She's young and thin — no doubt close to your age — with black hair to match a raven's feathers.

“Rubbish!” is Ser Lothar's not-so-smart response. You notice now that he’s missing three teeth and speaks horrendously — as if their accent already isn’t helping. “How old is she? Seven and ten? She should be in the birthing bed, not in this council chamber!”

Everyone stares at him, bewildered — even his own kind. Maybe if you weren’t there, the comment would’ve been overlooked, but seeing as the council was being literally held by a six and ten year old girl, it wasn’t the smartest comment he could’ve made. You can feel from your seat the murderous intent that comes from the Blackwoods — thankfully you made everyone leave their weaponry outside. You just hope nobody has a hidden knife somewhere in their breeches.

“For your information, Ser Lothar,” you speak up before things can escalate, “I am six and ten and perfectly able to run a council on my own. I’m sure Lady Alysanne will manage just fine.”

He squints his eyes at you, like he’s just noticed your presence. “I will be listening to no cunt!”

You blink at Lord Amos, who’s red in the face, as calm as ever. “Would you like to change your mind, Lord Bracken? I’m afraid Ser Lothar will be too preoccupied with being my dragon’s breakfast to be here with us as we discuss this serious matter.”

Lothar screams obscenities as the guards take him away to the courtyard, where Nādrēsy is staying for the time being, and Lord Samwell has a smug look on his face — no wonder happy that his sister has had justice. “Lyle!” Lord Amos roars, making a boy no older than twenty jump from his seat. “Y– yes, my lord!”

You intertwine your fingers in front of you. “Good. Now that the table has been cleaned we can actually start.” you ask them to take the seat of their lords, so that they’re near you and you three can talk more clearly. “I want to make sure that it is clear that I don’t expect your houses to be friends after this council. My only purpose is to end the brotherly blood shedding that in the last centuries has exasperated the Riverlands to the point that Ser Oscar Tully here had to ask for the Crown’s help to put an end to it. I just want your houses to stand each other.”

You sigh, pointing to the map with their territories traced out in front of you; you push it towards them so that they have some reference. “This was the outline of the territories that King Jaheaerys’s ambassador drew the last time there was a council like this. Peace lasted only for about two years — my goal is to make it last at least twenty, so that when the Lords die their heirs are of age.” you darkly jest. Lord Samwell sends a glare to Lord Amos: he was six when his father was killed in a Bracken ambush.

“Obviously, it is not. My goal is to make it last. So, I would like you two to outline the territories that are most important to your houses that as of now are owned by the other. Then we’ll see what we can do about it — see if we can make it a fair exchange to avoid spilling more blood.”

The two nod and immediately get to work. You are surprised to see that they do not speak to each other — not even a little nag or tease. They seem to be more mature than their elders, a thing that strangely you do not find weird at all.

You didn’t expect for it to be an easy negotiation, but Seven Hells if you had underestimated it. They would be competing for the entire Riverlands if there weren’t any other houses, you’re sure about that. And before you know it, it’s been a sennight and you’re still staying in Riverrun, hoping that some god takes pity on you and strikes you down. Sure, you had them choose their spokesperson, but that doesn’t mean the others don’t protest when you say something they don’t like.

“I’m thinking about arranging a marriage,” you say to Oscar one evening.

You’re in the guest chambers, the ones you’re staying in. The chess match in front of you is basically forgotten, replaced by a discussion about peace treaties and ways to stop feuds. Your friend snorts, taking another sip of his wine. “My ancestors have tried before. It always ends up in a massacre before the bride can even receive the groom's cloak.”

You shake your head. “I’m thinking about Olyver Bracken and Alysanne Blackwood.”

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “A drunkard and a hunter? Weird choice. Don’t know if I feel like ruining a lady’s promising future.”

“Think about it.” you lean over, elbows on your knees. You take two pawns, placing them on the table. “He is Lord Amos’ heir, and he is useless. Meanwhile, she would be able to run Stone Hedge like it was the fucking Night Watch. We could make them marry, then maybe right after she already gave birth to a boy, an heir… a terrible accident could happen.” you knock down one of the pawns, “A tragic fall from the horse, a bad fever… you name it. And suddenly Lady Bracken is free from her preposterous husband and can raise his heir however she wants.”

You take two other pawns and place them near the others. “Then we marry small Benjicot Blackwood off to Cressida Bracken. They are still young, younger than Olyver and Alysanne; if Cressida is sent to live with the Blackwoods as soon as the engagement is announced, she may not feel the same hate towards him as any other Bracken would.”

You sigh, rubbing your hands together. “Give it twenty years, and the heirs to the Blackwood and the Bracken territories will all be cousins. What kind of cousins would ever start a war against each other?”

Oscar blinks at you. You blink back. “I mean what kind of cousins that aren’t in my family, Oscar.”

“Oooh. Oh, yes, that makes sense now.” he tilts his head to the side, looking at the pawns. “You plan on killing the Bracken guy?”

You shrug. “Only if Alysanne finds him annoying. I would never force the poor girl to stand him, knowing I wouldn’t even be able to wait to have an heir before I got tired of him, so if she manages to do it, I will gift her a new set of arrows and a bow. Closing an eye on his mysterious disappearance would be the least I could do, if the rumours about him are true.”

Hearsays say that he’s insufferable and that he spends more time in brothels than in his own bed, but ultimately he’s pretty defenseless and has gotten his ass beaten in pubs more times than his father is able to count. Oscar snorts, “Let’s see if there’s no carnage during the wedding, then we can actually talk about it.”

The next day comes, and you dread the moment you’ll be sat at that fucking council table again, and will have to announce not only one but two betrothals. It’s for the best, at least, or that’s what you tell yourself when Alysanne Blackwood looks at you like you just sentenced her to death. The whole table protests against your decision, but you’re unremovable, and you’re telling them beforehand just because you feel nice today. Your mother would’ve probably arranged the marriage without telling anyone anything until the day of the wedding.

“You can’t just do that!” Samwell laments, red from anger. It seems he doesn’t like the thought of his sister being married off — quite thankfully, honestly. You’re happy that you’re not the only sister who has brothers who care about her.

“The thing is, Lord Blackwood,” you reply, “that I can and I will. As ambassador to the King my word is his, and I’m sure he would agree with me in this decision. You lot have killed enough men, women and children in this feud of yours; the whole RIverlands are tired, as honestly am I, of hearing of your endless feud and your constant blood spilling. I say we put an end to it.”

They don’t seem to care; they yell at you, then at each other, spitting venom and curses, talking over each other so loudly that you don’t understand anything. You clench your hands, rage rising inside you; you wish you could just make Nādrēsy burn their beloved castles down to the ground and call it a day, so that there aren’t any more territories to fight about, but unfortunately it isn't exactly diplomatic. Is this how your grandsire feels when he holds court?

You stare at the map in front of you; the distribution of the lands has changed, even if the number of acres both families own has basically remained the same. You have either split the territories in question or gave one to the Brackens and another to the Blackwoods, trying to be as fair and equal as you could be — but of course none of them would be happy; they both wanted the other’s whole territory.

You feel like you’re looking after all your little brothers who can’t agree for the life of them. Aegon will say that a toy is his and Viserys will reply that it’s actually his, even though they both have no idea where that toy came from in the first place nor that it was actually yours a decade ago.

“Children!” you shout over the voices of the lords, shutting them up real quick. “You are behaving like children — except you are grown men! And I am disgusted by you all! Your families have been in these lands for centuries, and not only have you never managed to overthrow one another, but you also have to make it everyone’s problem! Aren’t you ashamed? Don’t you have just a bit of remorse for all the suffering your hatred is causing? How many men, women and children have to die before you–”

The door bursts open, a servant barging in, “Princess–!”

“What?” you yell, enraged, turning to look at him. He cowers, trying to make himself as small as he can, knees trembling under your furious gaze. “I… I–”

“Talk before I cut your tongue out and let her talk for you,” you spit. You would never do that, of course, it’s just that you have found in the last few years that a threat here and a threat there get the job done far more quicker and easier.

The servant gulps. “A raven from King’s Landing,” he squeaks, “It’s from Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.” He hands you the letter and opts to run as fast as he can, away from you, shutting the doors of the chamber behind him.

You look at the letter, confused, only to rip it open and read it. The men at the table watch you intently, hoping that it’s some kind of good news so that your mood lightens up — maybe the princess is pregnant again? Maybe Prince Joffrey has managed to mount his dragon for the first time?

All their hopes are crushed when they see you get redder and redder in the face from anger as you read; if your dragon happened to be in the same room, they are sure that the paper would be burned down to ashes. Oscar leans to your side, peeking at the letter and reading what he can, frowning once he understands what your mother has written. “Wha–”

“A petition!” you roar, outraged. “And they didn’t cut his tongue when he started talking about it!”

“Madness,” Oscar sighs, “pure madness.”

You tear the paper into pieces, making the lords flinch. “The council is dismissed,” you declare. “The terms of the negotiations remain the same; Lord Tully will make sure that you all agree and the deal will be sealed tomorrow. Or else,” you lean down, placing your hands on the table, “I’ll come back once my matters are settled in King’s Landing and make sure that you all agree, in one way or another.” The threat is subtle, but they all understand that if they refuse to bend to the treaty, you’ll visit them in their beloved lands — with your very hungry dragon, surely.

As the lords start to leave the room, you look over at Oscar, “You’re coming to King’s Landing with me.”

He blinks, “I am?”

You snort, unamused. “You are. Vaemond Velaryon’s petition holds no sense, as my late father always recognised my brothers as his trueborn sons. Whether they look like him or the Baratheon and Arryn side of the family does not matter: they are legitimate. I’ll need you to keep me sane during the whole ordeal, Oscar. My ears did not bleed without a price during the last sennight.”

“But I’ve had no time to prepare– gods, let me fetch the servants, they need to start preparing my bags–”

“Tell them to bring your finest dresses and gowns,” you grunt, “wouldn’t want you to make a bad impression to the whole court, my dear Lady Oscar. Where else will you go to search for a husband otherwise?”

You shake your head right after, not in the mood to jest, “Be fucking serious, Oscar; bring a change or two and let it be done. We’re not going to King’s Landing to have fun, it’s a trial.” your expression is dark, stare truce. “And a death sentence, if we’re lucky.”

Your mother will never make it out of the trial unscathed is the green wench sits or her father sit on the throne; she needs you. She made that very clear in the letter, and you have no intention in turning your back on her.

Oscar departs immediately, calling for the servants and his brother Kermit, and you follow right after, not surprised to find Lady Alysanne Blackwood out of the room, waiting for you. Even if she was half as smart and hard headed as you thought her to be, she’d probably still be waiting out the council room to talk to you about the half-wit she would marry per your orders. Poor girl.

“If you wish to talk, we can do so as we head to my rooms,” you say before she can open her mouth, “I have matters in the King's Landing to tend to, and I can’t afford to waste time.”

She grimaces, “Didn’t you come here to attend this council? Weren’t you here to help our families?”

“First of all, I was ambushed by Ser Oscar,” you clarify, “Second, yes, I was. And I did.”

She looks downright haunted. “You are a woman,” she murmurs. “You are a woman and you have sold me as no man had ever dared to do before.”

“You were bound to be sold off, Lady Alysanne,” you reply, tone calm. You can imagine her rage right now, but she must know that with her place in her family, she could have never possibly found the freedom she surely wants. You understand that by not living in the Crownlands, she had more hope for her future, with the freedom she was clearly given growing up; but you have grown in the Crownlands, and you have seen younger girls being married off to worser men without being able to escape. “I just did the honors.”

“I will slash my neck open before that brute can even think of touching me,” she boldly says.

It makes you stop to take a better look at her. She’s tall, taller than you, and a tad bit older. It’s kind of sad to see her with tears in her eyes. “I know what an unhappy marriage is,” you inform her. “In the Keep we’re full of them. My own mother was in one with my father.”

You lower your voice, leaning your head, “But you have me on your side. And I wouldn’t be against… a little violence.” at her confusion, you explain yourself. “I wouldn’t refuse to turn a blind eye to a hunting accident, let’s say.” At her joyous face, you relent, “Not on the night of the wedding, Alysanne! At least we need one heir, or the feud will never end. Lord Bracken is old and sick, and it’ll be a year or two before he dies, hopefully — I'll see if I can help the process go faster. Then his son might accidentally die, too, oh, he was so young, leaving his pain struck wife and son behind,”

She snorts, “A tragedy, wouldn’t it be?”

You laugh grimly. “Ohh, you get it.”

“What’s this smell?” Oscar yells over your shoulder, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the wind and the flapping wings of your dragon.

“That’s the capital for you!” you reply, already missing the fresh air of the RIverlands. “The weather doesn’t help Flea Bottom’s odour. It’s been like this since forever.”

He gags, “Don’t understand how you manage. Smells like piss.”

You shrug, “You get used to it. Trust me, there’s lords in court who smell far worse than Flea Bottom does,”

Nādrēsy roars unhappily: a full day of travel and it’s only to get back into the dirty streets of King’s Landing. You lightly slap his side, yelling over his laments, “Ilagon, valītsos!” Down, boy!

Oscar, behind you, shakes like a leaf as your dragon replies by roaring with vigor — no doubt, that equals to at least ten curses in dragon’s language. “How can you talk to him like that? He’s going to eat you alive one of these days and you won’t be able to do anything about it.”

You snort. “I’d like to see him try.”

The Dragon Pit is more animated than usual: some Keepers are holding back Vermax, who screeches and spits fire, while others bring Syrax back in her cave, her belly swollen, her step slow and cautious. Caraxes follows right behind, shaking his wings to throw the dirt off of them.

The Keepers greet you and your dragon, sending a weird glance towards Oscar. One of them — Kilya is her name, you believe — comes near, shouting so that you can hear her. “Īlin umbagon syt ao, dārilaros.” she says, “Aōha muña gīmēdegon īlva hen aōha māzigon.” We were waiting for you, Princess. Your mother warned us of your arrival.

You nod; you had no time to reply to her raven, but she must’ve guessed that there was no way you wouldn’t have come. “Se eman māstan.” And I have arrived, “Gūrogon Nādrēsy naejot zȳhon ripo, eman gaomon naejot imāzigon.” Bring Nādrēsy to his cave, I have matters to attend.

You help Oscar get off; he yelps as the chains around his ankles are unfastened and yells as you help him down, where the Keepers promptly catch him before he falls on his backside. You jump off your dragon’s back, landing perfectly fine, and opt to pat roughly Nādrēsy’s back, just as he likes it. “Sȳz sōvegon, valītsos.” Good fly, boy. He roars back happily.

“I’ll never understand that language,” Oscar mutters, standing back up straight, a frown upon his face. “It’s like you don’t want your secrets to be known. Why won’t you teach me High Valyrian?”

“Iksis ziry doru-borto?” the Keeper asks. Is he stupid? You shake your head, then think about it and snort, relenting. “Mērī mirrī.” Only a little.

Your friend pouts, sticking out his tongue at you. “Is that what I get for being your bestest companion?”

You laugh, walking off the Pit and to the entrance, where a carriage is promptly and not surprisingly waiting for you. “My bestest companion? Didn’t know you had wings and were named Nādrēsy.”

He gasps, dramatically grasping his chest, “You wound me!”

You both get in the carriage, and you look at him seriously. “Before we enter the Red Keep, there are some rules you must abide by.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Rules? I was raised well, you know, I shouldn’t need those. I hope the King knows that.”

You shake your head, “No, those are my rules for you. Let’s say that it’s what you’ll need if you want to go back home unscathed from the Keep’s snakes.”

Oscar gulps, “Go on.”

“First, don’t talk to the Queen. Then don’t talk to her sons unless I’m in the room. Avoid Larys Strong — he’s the guy with the crippled leg and the corpse face, you’ll know it’s him instantly — and avoid the councilmen.”

“What, you want to keep me a secret?” he asks, bewildered. “Is there someone I’ll be able to talk to? Is there a reason why I have to avoid all these people?” he gasps, “Am I your whore? Is that why you want to keep my mouth shut?”

“If you were my whore, I’m pretty sure I would want your mouth wide open and working,” you mutter, “but no, that is not why. Truth is I would rather make sure that you stay out of their claws; it’s better to keep away from their schemes.”

The actual truth is that you don’t want them to speculate something about history repeating — your mother was already rumored to have a lover from the Riverlands; the last thing this family needs is another princess said to have an affair with yet another lover from the Riverlands. They would wonder if it actually was some kind of preference that was passed down from mother to daughter, and even if the only thought of being attracted to Oscar makes you laugh, you’re sure the councilmen definitely wouldn’t be amused by it.

“Besides, you can talk to Mushroom,” you add.

“Who’s Mushroom?”

“The court’s jester. He’s insufferable, small and will try to steal your gold, but you can talk to him.”

Your friend grimaces, “Why do you keep him in the castle if he steals the lords’ gold?”

You shrug, “He makes me laugh.”

Slowly, the carriage rattles to a halt, a page opening the door for you. “Ready to see the Red Keep for the first time?”

He nods, “Ready to face your evil step-grandmother?”

1K notes · View notes

fishnapple · 5 months ago

Text

Things people secretly find attractive about you

This reading is about the hidden thoughts of people, about what they secretly find attractive about you. This is entirely subjective, some of these can seem questionable or hard to understand but the human psyche is complex, the root of attraction can lie in unexpected places.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

ONE

Some of the people who find you attractive might have a saviour mentality and a serious personality, they gravitate towards someone who they think is in trouble, sad about life or is a little impractical. I'm not saying that you have these traits, but those people seem to pick up some of your behaviours as signs of these traits.

Some people perceive you as outspoken, you have no trouble saying what's on your mind, your words are direct and to the point, they carry force in them. This can seem aggressive to them. But this is not the kind of being attracted to something strong but more like being attracted to the hidden weakness behind that strong exterior. They think that behind your assertive demeanour is someone insecure, someone who hasn't found their footing in the world yet. They are attracted to that thought, the thought that you're trying to put up a front, trying to be brave. This makes them curious and want to see the insecurities that you're hiding, and to do what? They would want to guide you, they think you need someone to act as a teacher to you, someone you can look up to, and they want to be that person.

Your voice is also attractive to some ears, your choice of words is extensive and have a poetic touch to it. Or you don't talk much and some people find that attractive, they feel that you leave space for others to talk and express and you're not judgmental about it. Some will like having deep philosophical discussions with you. You also have different and unique hobbies and whenever you talk about them, you seem so animated and excited, an intense passion can be felt, and that makes people gravitate towards you like moth to flame.

Some people also feel that you can be quite naive or impractical sometimes, they find this endearing, like seeing someone being protected from the harsh reality of this world. They might project a part of themselves on you. Some of them could have experienced a difficult childhood that didn't give much space for them to be carefree or feel protected. So they look at you and see these traits that remind them of a distant longing for a better childhood.

The idea of being in a relationship with you will seem easy and natural. It's easy to imagine themselves taking care of you and having your attention to themselves. Your attention and affection are elusive and people want to catch a hold of these. Some will want to quickly jump in a connection with you, it would get intense very fast and burn quickly, attraction at first sight is very likely, this is not just about romantic attraction but also includes platonic attraction.

TWO

I think people would immediately feel a sense of power coming from you, much like how our skin warming up when we are around a fire. This kind of powerful energy is dynamic, all-encompassing, intense, generous and bountiful. This attraction that people have towards you is not that secretive, some might feel reluctant to show it or talk about it openly because they feel respectful towards you, they can feel a little intimidated and will just silently watch you, occasionally drop a few compliments when they are feeling brave enough. You know how sometimes people see someone so amazing and awesome but keep their distance and not express appreciation for them, for fear of stating the obvious, they would think that this person probably gets a lot of compliments everyday already so they won't be bothered with them? Some people are like that towards you.

Some people will quietly admire your daring and sometimes reckless spirit, the word daredevil comes to mind, with it comes the attitude of an adventurer. You are so brave and explosive, always ready to explore new horizons, always know how to have fun. Timid and quiet people might secretly find these traits so attractive about you but also feel that you are a little dangerous or too forceful for them. It's not physical violence but it's the speed of you doing things, the energy you put in every action, they feel like they can't quite keep up with that. But it's sexy to them. It's intense and it can bring both order and chaos to wherever you go. This energy is like electricity, it can evoke wild reactions in people.

You smile and laugh a lot? People find your smile and the sound of your laughter attractive, it's warm and contagious. You don't just laugh a lot, you also make people laugh a lot, they like your humour, it's carefree, jovial, sometimes it comes as exaggerated boasting, sometimes it's ridiculous, sometimes it's so humble. It shows a healthy ego with enough boundaries and respect. They can see your humbleness as a sign of strength, you're so confident in yourself and so strong that you allow yourself to be soft and be a fool to elevate people's spirits.

Others will be secretly attracted to your intelligence and wisdom. You seem like someone whom they can look up to and learn from. Younger people really like you, they see you as a role model, someone who knows their own path and is dedicated to it. Some will assume you're really successful and have it all. They wonder if you have an inner calling, a spiritual belief that guides your life, because you seem to abide to a certain rules, some strict regimes and they're curious about it.

THREE

The word "wholesome" just immediately came to my mind. You have a very stable aura that makes people think you have your life all figured out. They might even think that your life is so different from them, so trouble-free, peaceful or exciting, anything but similar to theirs. But that doesn't alienate you from people, they actually like this about you. Like how cat videos restore faith in the world for some people. When they see your life, they get inspired to strive to do good with their life.

Your energy is both fast and slow, steady but active. You have no trouble standing your ground, putting down your foot. You can be very cautious and deliberate when investing in something, whether with your energy, your time, your resources, your emotions. But when you see the chance, the most effective path opening, you don't hesitate to take the action, almost like you have an angel or a wise counsellor behind your back who will give you encouragement to go forward. You are not a reckless gambler but a wise one.

Some people feel very safe and secure when they are around you, you feel like a teddy bear, a shelter to them. Because you are generous when you've decided that someone is worthy of your effort. You don't do things half-heartedly, your determination and devotion are very attractive in people's eyes. This can also mean that some people are quite dependent on you, emotionally, and they hate to admit it, I sense that some of them are quite proud and independent, so the notion that they're dependent on someone does not sit well with them.

You also have an amicable energy, people can sense that you won't get angry easily, you don't take out your ego and wave it at their faces. You talk only when it's necessary and don't demand attention. You seem like a humble person who doesn't complain when things get hard and just focus on solving the problem without expecting applause and praises. People who have a more dominant and fiery personality might find this attractive, as opposites attract. Some can view this as you can be ordered and are obedient, which boosts their ego a lot.

While some people wonder, if you truly are that humble or you're just good at hiding your desires and drives, they might think that you have something to hide, you're not comfortable showing your true self and just go along with what others deem good and nice. Would there be another person who is wild, ambitious and fierce behind your gentle image? Some might want to poke, to push you to see a more aggressive reaction from you. Another kind of people can view this energy as you being detached and aloof, like you don't have the time or energy to care. They secretly find this "unavailability" attractive, it shows you have standards and act accordingly to your own rules and set of beliefs. You seem to elicit a wide variety of opinions from people. If all of them were to have a meeting and voice their thoughts about you, it would make a long list. But they all will have to agree that you are unshakable from your resolution once you set your eyes on a goal.

FOUR

This group is a little similar to the previous group, both have strong earth energy with a hidden element. But your group is more youthful, the energy, at first glance, is softer and more playful. The similarity of the two groups is that people perceive you to be in alignment with your soul's desire. You seem to be living a full life. People look at you and feel the liveliness, the joy of living. Like a child beginning to step out to the world, who hasn't been disillusioned by the ugliness of reality yet. People secretly think you are naive and innocent, a little erratic or unpredictable, but you're not lost, you know where you are going, with a purpose, like a ship heading towards the lighthouse. You make people feel like they should act benevolent to you, because you deserve that treatment. To the people who already have children, you sometimes remind them of their own child, subconsciously. They would want to protect you and see you bloom and prosper.

You have an oblivious attitude towards worldly achievements that people secretly wish they can adopt it themselves. You focus on your self development but you don't put too much weight into being conventionally successful like having a good career, earning lots of money, being famous, almost like you're tired of that. Maybe you're well-known to a certainly extent in a community and some people can be a little envious of that, they may wonder how can you garner attention so easily like that, even when you don't do much, aren't active or just keep to yourself, but fame still finds you.

Your appearance shows that you're taking good care of yourself. You have a neat and simple style that people like. It suits your perceived manner, mild and stable. You notice little details and create a pleasant atmosphere and environment around you. Some people who work with you find these traits really attractive, they could develop a quiet crush for you.

You could have some small obsessions that people who are observant enough will notice. They intuitively sense that you are trying to establish a certain order in your life, a certain routine to balance out the inner emotional turmoil. It's like a storm is raging outside so you try to focus on organising the house to feel safe and distract yourself from the storm. This will attract people, some people are just really attracted to emotional depth and complexity. The more contradicting a person act, hinting a hidden landscape underneath, the more they are attracted.

You can be quite serious when it come to learning, this is where your determination shows itself the most. Teaching you is a delight, but can also come with heavy pressure, you don't want superficial knowledge, you want to go to the depth of things, analysing then committing the information into your memory. This, in turn, can also make you an excellent teacher, but you can be a little stern, surprisingly. You can seem young, but in some areas, you are so serious and committed, you seem like a wise old soul.

FIVE

I pulled only 3 Tarot cards for the previous groups, but your group demanded another one, apparently so many people have so many different opinions about you.

Your energy seems so red and fiery, like a burning fire. There are lots of moths flocking to your flame. They know they would "die", but they just can't help it. I can see that you have a lot of admirers, the majority of them are secret admirers though. There's something about your energy that makes people turn inward and become a lot more quiet and introverted than they normally are. They're contented to just keep a distance and admire you from a far. Have you ever see the process of an artist making their artwork? They are so focused in their own world, they emit an intense aura that keep the audience quiet and holding their breath, the people around them don't dare to disturb that creative process. Some people feel like that with you. You have a creative energy that can touch people, it's both very vulnerable but also strong, something that just is, without external shielding or masking.

People view you as someone who loves fearlessly, you have a reverence for love that borders on a religious feeling. It makes them question themselves, how can a human live so confidently like that, can they live like that too? is their life has a different meaning that they haven't thought of before? You are an inspiration to people, your flame is contagious, it spreads wherever it goes.

Those that are brave enough to approach you will like to talk and debate with you, you have a way to show your views clearly without eclipsing others. They admire your courage to defend your worldview and advocate for good courses. You might have a knack for rallying people, persuading people. People can easily be swept along your passionate energy.

Some believe that you have what it takes to be successful in this world. You have the talents, you have the will, and luck seems to follow you with each step you take. The phrase "Fortune favours the bold" can't be anymore apt than this. You have a balanced feminine and masculine energy that can attract people of different genders. To the world, when you need to accomplish something, you have no problem with exerting will power and strategies, to those close to you, you also hold a nurturing space for them. Some might perceive you as a good parental figure. Some will automatically assume that you're successful and rich, or you have someone backing you up. I will be honest, they're attracted to your abundance, the more lack they feel, the more attracted they are to you.

SIX

I wouldn't say you are shy or quiet, but you're reserved and just want to mind your own business. Your energy feels a little awkward and some people can notice that. Again, it's not exactly because of shyness, but more like a reluctance to come out of your own world. You might be a home-body or someone who prefer their private space a lot. If you can, you just want to stay in one place and live quietly, contentedly, but alas, you have to go out and interact with the world, and I do see some life circumstances that would force you to be out, to be more visible to the world. If you are a leader or someone with authority in the workplace, you will be a reluctant leader, but a good one nevertheless. This makes you seem more down to earth and relatable to many people.

You're resistant to disturbances and chaos. You want simple things, things that are essential for a good and tranquil life. A fresh meal, a walk on the beach, tea time with friends maybe enough to make you happy and feel fulfilled, also a heavy pocket full of money to prepare for rainy days. You're risk adverse, that's why you're always well prepared, stable and can shoulder lots of burdens. People can't help but feel peaceful and safe around you, they feel protected. That is, if they managed to get in your inner circle. You're selective of whom you interact and associate with. People like this pickiness of yours, it makes them feel privileged to be selected. You're picky but you're not stingy or haughty, everyone can still see that you're friendly and open enough.

As much as you always try to stay out of chaos, chaos seems to like you and follow you around. Some bizarre and unexpected events might happen that are totally out of your control. You life is somehow attached to invisible strings that pull and lead you to some pretty interesting experiences. Usually these experiences can bring positive changes into your life, if you're open to them. Those who witness these events will find them oddly fascinating. Magic seems to be real around you. You may have a strong manifesting power, whether you're conscious of them or not. You can literally create your reality through your power of imagination and words. So be mindful of what you are thinking and imagining.

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 2 months ago

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"WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME!"

Vodou or Voodoo!reader x platonic Yandere batfam

You haven't gotten out of bed in days, lying there rotting away like a bone. Your amulet, once vibrant purple, is now dusty and dark. Your bedroom is cold, and your altar is neglected; the candles are out. You haven’t put food there, fixed the tablecloth, or done anything. You haven’t prayed or performed a ceremonial dance. You've never been this depressed, this sad, or this angry; you're in despair. Ever since arriving at the mansion, you've felt your life and soul being sucked out, which is strange—you were so lively before. You feel dead, yet you can hear the chatter and laughter downstairs seeping through your thick walls. Usually, you drown it out, but today you listen. You can feel their smiles, their joy, their anger—everything, yet you're not present.

“Why don’t you go down there?” a spirit says, its ghostly hand caressing your shoulder.

“They don’t want me there; you know that already,” you say, your voice cracks. Of course it did; you were crying for hours, maybe even longer, but better not count. “Don’t be like that; they’re your family.”

You scoff at what the spirit says. You want to slap its hand away, but you obviously can't touch it; you can't even feel it, just the cold air that caresses your dark skin.

“I’ll only ruin it,” you say, hovering overhead, letting your despair consume you. If you continue like this, how will you become a great Priestess? Your altar has no gifts, no offerings. You haven’t fixed your hair in days; you haven’t sent us anything, and we love your voice. “Please, my child,” the spirit pleads, “you do not want to go down there. At least do something.”

You don’t answer again. You curl up into a ball. The spirit sighs. “As you wish, young Priestess,” and they disappear into purple smoke. But all you can think about, deep in your head, is that it just isn’t fair. You’re a nice kid; you’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re honest, you’re polite—the nicest of them all. Even if there was a niceness contest, you’d come out on top, leaving everybody in your wake. But your father seems to favor the ones who are cruel, mean, and rude. Your younger brother, Damian—a little devil, held you at swordpoint, threatened to kill you, called you a bastard, and you’re supposed to forgive him with open arms? What kind of idiot does Bruce take you for?

And your older brother, who prides himself on family, barely even knows you—the sucker might have to look up your middle name, maybe even your birthday, on some celebrity website. He’s always spending time with the little devil; you have no clue why. You’re way more fun to hang out with than him. But who cares? And your second eldest brother is rude, scary, and he smells like pure death, as if he crawled out of his grave, clutching dirt from the ground beneath him. It makes sense—his eyes are naturally green, just like Damian's, but he’s alive. It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe Papa Legba, but him cross without knowing.

And the brother who is the same age as you, Timothy, makes you snore when you hear his name. He’s intellectual, so smart, and yet so stupid, so dumb, and so hypocritical. He’ll find everything and anything to correct you on, even if you’re right, just to ensure that you’re slightly off the mark. The brother you thought you would have an unbreakable bond with is so tight he cut off blood circulation; yet, this bond is flimsier than a piece of string. He’s always talking with Cass, and you're never invited. You have more in common than they think, but to them, you’re just another bastard of Bruce Wayne—Cass, Steph, and Babs are your sisters. You’re supposed to gossip, talk about boys, play hand games, and hold each other, but they are only close with each other and not you.

I mean, trios were never meant to be broken; who even wants a quartet? You pray to Bondye every night. You expel all the darkness within your amulet, and your wishes are always the same each night: “Please, Supreme Lord, let them greet me with open arms; let them see me as their kin; let them love me; let them notice me.” But each night, you are met with nothing but silence. Bondye is quiet, and so are the loa. They always talked to you, but whenever you beg for this family to see you, they can never answer; they can never give advice. At first, you thought it was a test—a series of trials you had to go through to prove that you were worthy of their love. So whenever you were met with hostility, it was like the sharp end of a blade. You opened your arms to them; the trials got harder, and it started to become impossible.

Maybe I have to go in a different direction; maybe meet force with force. But then you get scolded. Maybe you just don’t fight back, but if you don’t, then you will be forgotten. So what next? How do you pass this test, these everlasting trials? You have no clue, no idea, and in fact, you feel lost, and you start to lose faith. Maybe you were just not meant to be loved; you weren’t meant for affection, you weren’t meant to be held, dear. So you let that bitterness and anger swallow you whole as you wallow in your own sorrow and self-pity. This young High Priestess is filled with hurt.

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pineconepie · 1 month ago

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This was an ask I got a while back, but either I can't find it or accidentally deleted it. But to the anon who asked for a scenario like this, here you go! :D

TW: Amnesia, parental/platonic yandere, forced infantilization, drugging, implied kidnapping, manipulation

"Help! Please help!" you cry, running as fast as you can throughout the dense forest. Branches and sharp brambles scrape your cheeks and catch onto your clothes.

You stop for a brief moment to pick the twigs out of your disheveled hair. The small cuts sting horribly but it doesn't deter you from pushing onwards.

Sweat beads down your forehead and you wipe at it furiously. Your chest is heaving, desperately trying to take in more oxygen.

"(Y/n)! Stop!" His booming voice echoes throughout the forest.

He's getting closer to you. You have to keep running, keep moving, keep—

Something hits you, something cold and metal. You barely have enough consciousness to realize it was a car, on the dirt road path. Your vision swims, and your head feels ready to burst.

Your ears ring incessantly. All you can hear is that horrible noise, but it doesn't completely drown out him calling for you.

And suddenly there are strong arms around you. "Oh! My baby! What have you done?!" Someone picks you up. They yell to someone else, but their voice is fading out.

Your vision fades to nothing.

...

When you wake up, there's the sound of something beeping. It's a comforting constant rhythm, steady and predictable. You think you know what it is, but your head feels all muddled and foggy.

Something cool and soft presses against your forehead, and you lean into the soothing touch.

"That's right, honey. Nice and easy," a voice speaks above you. Its light, with a subtle hint of an accent you can't recognize. A thumb gently rubs at your temple, massaging it with care and ease. "That must've been a pretty bad fall you took. Don't worry, I've got you."

You open your eyes. Hovering above you, is a man with long messy brown hair, light brown eyes, and a slight stubble of facial hair. He looks to be in his early to mid forties or so.

There's something familiar about him. You should know who this person is... but your brain cannot come up with a name.

"There they are!" the man coos. The corner of his eyes crinkle. He has crow's feet around them. You think those mean someone smiles often. You stare blankly back at him, mind still groggy from what happened earlier. He hums a melody, and gently brushes his fingertips along your arm.

"What..."

"Hush now, don't talk just yet," he murmurs. His other hand is behind your head, propping you up in its palm. "Had quite a nasty fall there. Scared me half to death!"

"Where am I?" You blink, still slightly disoriented.

"Shhh..." He kisses your bandaged forehead. "You're here in the hospital, sweetie. Just got done doing x-rays on your head." The room around you is stark white. There are various machines around you and one is beeping at a constant rhythm. It smells of chemicals and medicine. "I know you hate being scolded, but (Y/n), you know better than to play in the forest so late at night..." He scrubs a hand over his face tiredly.

You squint at him, trying to jog your memory as to who this guy even is. Is he perhaps someone important? Someone you're supposed to know?

As hard as you try, no answers come to mind. And now that you're thinking about it, you really can't remember much at all besides your name and general sense of self.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" you awkwardly ask.

The man freezes. His eyebrows raise up in surprise before furrowing with concern. "Wh—(Y/n), sweetie," he looks at you. "Can you tell me who I am?" You shake your head. He stares at you for a moment, like frozen. Only when you awkwardly look down, does he do too. "The doctors mentioned possible memory loss, but..." He looks so torn; eyebrows twisted up sadly. You almost want to reach out and hug him.

The only thing that stops you is the IV, and the fact you don't know him, despite what he says.

"What's the last thing you remember, baby?" he asks again.

You wrack your brain. "I don't know. I know my name... and that's about it."

A flash of pain shoots through his gaze, though he seems to keep himself collected. "Okay. So, sweetie... I'm your dad." He reaches out to clasp your hands. "My name is Hugo Harrison. You're (Y/n) Harrison."

"You... don't look very much like me..." You realize that might be a rude thing to say. "Sorry, I didn't mean that in a mean way."

Hugo chuckles. "It's okay, there's not a mean bone in your body, kiddo." He pauses, like contemplating his next words extra carefully. "I'm your adoptive dad. Now, we could go into a lot more detail, but let's not strain that noggin of yours for today, hm?" He tenderly touches your wrapped forehead. You must have injured it severely, which explains the splitting headache and memory loss.

"Oh, that makes sense," you murmur. You take in his appearance more. He has a tattoo peaking from below his collar shirt, and looks a bit rugged, with muscular arms that have a few scars. He even has an eyebrow piercing on his left.

Despite that, he seems so... sweet.

"Do you have any photos of us?" you ask. Part of it is genuine curiosity, but mostly just because you don't know what else to say.

His eyes soften, and he pulls out his phone to immediately show you his lock screen.

Sure enough, there the two of you are, smiling at the camera. It doesn't look like it was too long ago. You're both indoors, wearing some kind of brown and periwinkle uniforms.

Noticing your confused expression, he explains, "I own a cafe, sometimes you help out. That's where this photo is from. One of my favorites."

He scrolls through his camera roll and shows another picture of the both of you. In this one, you're sleeping on his lap, his hand covering the side of your face in an apparent attempt to block you from seeing the flash.

You nod mutely, trying to soak it all in. All you know of this man is from these two images.

So far, there's nothing overtly suspicious. Nothing that triggers alarm bells or raises red flags. At this point, you have no reason not to believe him.

So why do you feel so unsettled?

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Not good," you mumble, bringing a hand up to your head, cringing from the pain.

He presses a kiss to your hair, holding it for several seconds before pulling away. "Oh, sweetheart..." His voice wavers with emotion. "I'll talk to the doctors again. For now, you rest up, okay?"

With such a splitting headache and sore body, you have no trouble obeying his commands. Your eyes flutter shut, and the last thing you hear is a sigh coming from him, as well as something about wanting to take you home.

...

"Easy," Hugo soothes, letting you lean on him heavily as he walks you to his house. Everything hurts from your body to your head. The medication from earlier wore off halfway to his home.

Speaking of his house, it looks pretty much like a standard home, if not kind of cute, almost reminiscent of a cottage. It's beige with dark brown trimmings. Ivy climbs around the windows.

Flower beds line along the pathway to the front door and a vegetable garden sits near the shed in the back. There's wind chimes hanging near the entrance.

"I wish I could remember any of this," you mutter as he situates you on the couch. "Sorry."

"No, no," he reassures, rubbing your upper arm. "Don't apologize, okay? It's not your fault that this happened."

"What was I doing out in the forest, anyway? You mentioned something about that... is that something I typically do?" you ask.

Hugo looks confused for a moment, then nods. "Ah. Well, it was something you'd usually do, but hopefully that will be the last time. Sometimes you get... impulsive. You do things that are reckless. That's why I'm so protective of you. This isn't the first time you got injured like that." He shakes his head and laughs. "Stubborn kid you are..."

"I see." What else can you say, really? You wish your brain would hurry up and recall something. Right now it just feels blank. All you have to go off of is Hugo. "I know I can't remember, but I'm still sorry. For what I did. Or, uh, do."

His gaze softens even more, looking like the definition of fond. "Like I said, sweetie, you don't need to worry about a thing. It's all in the past now. What matters is that you're here now, safe with me. How about I take you up to your room? You can get a nap in while I make dinner. Sound nice?" He brushes his thumb over your temple.

You wordlessly lean against him. He chuckles and helps you back up, mindful of your injuries, and leads you upstairs.

Again, it looks like a completely normal household. Nothing stands out to you besides perhaps the large number of photographs littering the walls.

Your bedroom has pastel blue wallpaper with stars decorating the top half of the wall.

There's a bunch of stuffed animals lining the bed, as well as pillows with galaxy themed pillows. The carpet is plush and your feet sink slightly in them.

"This was... mine?"

"Yes!" He seems less happy about it when he sees your expression. "Do you not like it? You decorated it yourself..."

"Isn't it kind of, uh, childish? Nothing wrong with that, of course, just doesn't seem like something someone older would want," you lamely explain.

Hugo takes another moment to mull over his words. "Well... you've always been a bit childish for your age, sweetie. I think it's adorable, and you seemed content with this room before... but if you really want to change it up, I don't mind at all." His strained smile tells you that he does, in fact, mind it.

"That's okay. I think I do like it, now that I've seen it longer," you reassure him. Part of it might be because you feel bad. You hobble over to the bed with his assistance, and watch him choose a cutesy beige pajama set. The sleeves are longer than your arms and the pants are covered in sheep patterns. "Do I normally wear that to bed?"

"More like just your typical lounge wear," he answers. "Do you need help, or can I leave you to it?"

"Um, you can leave me to it." You watch him open the door to leave. "Oh, by the way... what do I call you? By your name? Dad? Papa?"

A large smile stretches across his lips. "You call me 'Papa', but really anything works with me. Just want you to feel comfortable, bud. Oh, and dinner'll be ready soon. Tomato, chicken noodle, or cream of mushroom?"

You look down at your lap, where your pajamas lay. "What ever I liked most, I guess."

He hums in affirmation. "Sounds good."

Before long, you've changed and situate yourself on your bed, the stuffed toys huddled around you like a cocoon. Though everything seems fine and cozy, it all feels too new, too strange, for it to feel exactly right. It's supposed to be yours, you know this. And yet, it feels so... foreign.

This should make sense. Logically, it does. But your intuition keeps whispering doubts, despite Hugo giving you nothing but warmth.

...

Two weeks pass, and go by pretty uneventfully. He cares for you like you are a toddler, but he assures you this is how he used to act around you.

Still, your memory seems stubborn in recovering, and each night you pray for the morning to finally reveal a clue as to your past.

So far, nothing has shown up.

And being confined within the house doesn't help, either. Hugo refuses to let you go outside unsupervised, claiming how he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if you wound up in danger again.

And really, who are you to refuse him? You don't have any memories, any other friends (he's told you they've moved away years ago), and you have no money to sustain yourself. He's all you have.

"Where are you going?" you ask one morning, to see him slinging on a jacket. His hair is also tied up, which you've gathered he only does when he's going out somewhere.

"The cafe," he replies, though you can tell something is off by the way he smiles. "There's leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, okay? Stay inside, and I mean it."

"Can't I go with?" you suggest. Maybe seeing the place could bring back some recollections. Plus, sitting alone all day isn't fun at all, especially when there's nothing to distract you with besides watching TV or reading. Neither of those interests you that much, not to mention a majority of the books and shows catered to people less than half your age.

"Not with those injuries," he chuckles, but there's some firmness in his tone.

"I feel fine! My ankle isn't sprained anymore, and my ribs hardly bother me," you counter. Your face isn't bandaged anymore, either. Instead, only faint scars remain.

"Honey, the answer is no."

"I just want to leave the house!" you blurt. His eyebrows raise up at your outburst. "It's boring staying cooped up all day! I don't want to watch cartoons again or read a comic book or play with action figures."

He purses his lips. "But you love doing those things..."

"Yeah, sure. I don't doubt that I like those activities. But maybe sometimes I'd like to do something more, I dunno, mature." It's not that you hate the stuff Hugo's given you, but you aren't mentally ten years old or whatever age he's assuming you are. So reading picture books and playing with kiddie games get dull real fast. "Please? I don't have to do any physical labor, just wanna get outside the house..."

"(Y/n)..."

Maybe it's a tad bit manipulative, but you've found it works pretty well on him. "I just wanna spend time with my papa... if I can't remember old memories, I was hoping we'd have more time to bond..."

Hugo looks torn for a split second, before giving you a gentle grin, reaching out to pinch your cheeks. "Allllriiight," he drawls. "Wear something warm. It's chilly out."

"Why not my uniform?"

"Because I don't want you working, silly."

The drive there is an hour long, and has you wondering how on earth he makes these long treks there and back five times a week.

By the end, you're yawning and leaning against the window. He laughs, shaking you awake, helping you walk inside the cafe.

In the break room, he situates you on the couch. "I'll get you something to snack on soon. Banana bread, blueberry muffin, brownie, or chocolate chip cookie?"

You weakly smile. "What ever was my favorite?"

He snorts. "Gotcha. I'll be back soon. Don't leave this room, 'kay?" He doesn't wait for a response, quickly busying off towards the counter, throwing his apron back on.

When he's out of view, you try to relax, but as time passes on, you get bored with the things he's given you.

A coloring book, a children's storybook, and crayons litter around you. Sure, they're fun for a little while, but then you're back to square one.

You briefly contemplate if this is the reason why you kept running off to the forest often.

If he's been anything like this normally, you can imagine why you've been searching for more fun things to do.

You peak your head from the break room, to see him tending to another customer, making conversation.

"Oh, (Y/n), that you?"

You look to see one of the customers. He's a person about your age, smiling at you like you guys are friends. When you return the look awkwardly, it morphs into confusion.

"Hey, you alright?" he asks, walking closer to you. "Don't tell me you're working. Hugo told me you had a nasty fall, dude."

"Oh, I'm just here while he works," you shrug. "My memory is a bit weird, still. Who are you...?"

He blinks. "Oh. I'm Weston. We're friends. You must have it pretty bad if you can't remember me."

This is all so confusing. Hugo told you that you didn't have any friends... "Oh. Well, I'm just in the break room while Papa works." You cringe at your own wording. Still feels a bit weird, despite having grown more accustomed to calling him that now. "After he's done, we're probably just gonna go home."

Weston frowns. "Your dad? Are you talking about Hugo?" When you nod, he gives a dry laugh. "(Y/n), he's not—"

"What are you doing?" The deep voice startles you both. You turn around to see Hugo staring between the two of you, jaw tensing with some suppressed emotion. He forces a smile at Weston. "Hey, Weston, sorry, they're going through a lot as you can tell. Still in a state of constant confusion. Sorry. Did you want your usual? Croissant and cappuccino?"

He takes a small step back, but is still clearly defensive, like he's waiting for something to happen. "Yeah, no worries, Mr. Harrison. I know they hit their head hard."

Hugo nods. "I'll get started on that in a sec." He drags you back to the break room, almost slamming the door shut behind him. "Kiddo. What did I tell you?"

"I didn't technically leave... I just poked my head to see if you were busy, and that guy... Weston, I think, recognized me..." You realize his breathing sounds labored. "He said he's my friend."

"That kid?" he says incredulously, laughing. It doesn't sound humorous. It's dry and cold. "No, no, no. Sweetheart, I know everyone in this town and he most definitely isn't friends with you. (Y/n), look, you really can't trust your judgment right now." He grips your shoulders. "You gotta understand that you're hurt. Your head's not working correctly. Okay?"

You wish you could let it go, but something else he said makes you anxious. "He sounded like he was about to say you aren't my dad..."

"He's misinformed. Don't let him fill your head with lies. Now, I gotta get back to work."

"But—"

"For the love of God, just shut up, will you?" he snaps. "I barely let you come along! I should've followed my instincts, why do you have to make everything so damn difficult?"

The glint in his eyes scares you. It reminds you of something terrible, even if you can't remember. You flinch so hard you fall off the couch.

As soon as Hugo's anger came, it dissipated when he saw you trembling, backing up. You shield yourself away with your arms, expecting him to explode.

Even though you have no memory in your head, it's like your body remembers, judging by the way you recoil away from him. It's all instinctual. Even when his expression turns from angry to worried, to guilty.

"Oh no..." He kneels beside you. "Oh, I am so sorry, baby. I don't know what came over me. Here, take my hand," he offers. You reluctantly take his calloused, scarred hand. "Shh... I know, Papa can be scary, huh? I shouldn't have yelled like that. It's just that you made me so mad, scaring me like that... he's a bad person. This town is filled with them. That's why I'm so protective of you."

He's always making up excuses.

"I just wanna be left alone," you rasp. "Please."

"Okay. That's fair. If that's what you want." You expect him to fight it, but instead he gets up slowly and leaves after mumbling one final apology. After the door closes, you exhale, burying your face into your hands.

Something about what happened triggers a flashback.

"You just never know when to stop, do you? How many times have I asked you not to hang out with them?"

"Hugo, come on, you can't dictate who I hang out with. I can handle myself just fine. Now please, let me just do my job. People are staring."

"Keep up with this attitude, (Y/n), and we'll have problems."

"If you're going to fire me, might as well do so. I'm close to quitting myself."

You don't remember anything after that.

But whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

The ride home is relatively silent. Not that it's much different from his normal quietness, but it's a different kind of quiet. Deafening. Tense.

All because he lost his cool earlier. Your shoulders hunch as you try to avoid eye contact.

Finally, Hugo speaks. "Still upset?"

"Why do you care?" you mumble.

His fingers tense against the steering wheel, before relaxing. "Of course I care. I care about you more than anyone else." His eyebrows furrow with concern. "Just because I got a bit snappy back there doesn't mean I love you any less. If you weren't so reckless... but even then, I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that." He sighs deeply. "I'm sorry."

Something tells you if you don't forgive him now, he'll give you hell about it later. "It's okay."

That seems to quell his stress immensely, and he breathes out shakily, like a huge weight was taken off him. "Thank you," he murmurs. "We'll do something special tonight, okay? Movie night, maybe a pillow fort?"

"Sure." You're too tired to argue.

...

The next day, he leaves to get groceries, taking another day off work. You take that as an opportunity to snoop around, for the two hours or so he'll be gone.

Maybe something is fishy about Hugo; the way he keeps trying to keep you restrained from leaving the house is suspicious enough. And the lack of communication to the outside world, even before the fall.

No computer, internet access, cell phone... maybe your memories won't have to return for you to discover some clues.

Searching his bedroom provides nothing useful, so you continue towards his desk area.

Opening drawers, there's lots of random papers inside, which you flip through and scan through as carefully as you can.

That's when you realize one of the letters is a letter of resignation... from you, addressed to Hugo. The date isn't too long ago; in fact, it's the day before you remember having the accident.

You read through it, each sentence causing you more and more distress, until the paper is trembling in your grip.

Hugo,

I appreciate everything you've done for me since I first started working with you, but unfortunately our differences are causing more trouble than it's worth.

The incident last week truly opened my eyes. I didn't realize how toxic and controlling you were. You have isolated me from society, refused to allow me freedom, and tried to control who I hang out with and what I do.

You're my boss, but you insist on acting like my father, despite how many times I've told you that is crossing a boundary of mine.

Therefore, I regretfully inform you I will no longer work with you. This will be my two weeks notice. I'm sorry.

(Y/n)

The paper flutters to the ground. You're sweating. Isolating, controlling, manipulative behavior... it fits to a T of what Hugo's been displaying to you since the accident. Except it started long before that.

You glance around the hallway, suddenly feeling like you're in enemy territory rather than your home. But can you even call it that anymore?

All's you know, is you need to get out of here.

Running back downstairs, you begin planning what supplies to bring with you, but movement from outside catches your attention.

Rushing to the window, you see a familiar figure walking up the driveway. Your blood runs cold.

It's Hugo, carrying bags from the grocery store.

You must've lost track of time. You stumble to your room and pretend to be asleep.

Listening carefully to the noises coming from downstairs, he brings in the bags and rustling follows.

Now that you know the truth, every tiny noise causes anxiety. Why is he doing all this? Was this really all an elaborate lie, this entire situation?

And the most chilling part... was he responsible for your accident? Has it ever been an accident in the first place? As these thoughts race in your mind, your ears strain to listen to what he's doing below you.

Footsteps approach the staircase. Your heartbeat quickens and you burrow further underneath the covers. They ascend slowly.

Eventually they're right in front of your bedroom. Then, it sounds like they turn and head towards his room instead. You have to stifle a relieved sigh when he doesn't enter your room.

The relief doesn't last long.

Did you put everything away where you found it? Did you shut the drawers properly, did you cover up your tracks?

A few minutes go by, until there's a knock on the door. "Sweetheart, I'm getting started on dinner. How does mac 'n cheese sound?"

"Sure," you say, so quiet he almost doesn't hear you.

You wait until you hear his footsteps descend, then sneak into his room to make sure you put everything up.

To your relief, it looks like it, so you shuffle back downstairs, trying to put on the best neutral expression you can manage.

The last thing you'd want him to suspect is that you're onto his twisted game.

"There they are! Come sit at the table. Almost ready." He ruffles your hair gently when you take a seat. It takes everything in you not to squirm away from his touch. To keep pretending that you're blissfully oblivious. "How long were you napping for?"

"Not too long." The less you talk, the better.

"That's good." Hugo serves you a bowl full of macaroni and adds a glass of juice next to it, sitting across from you. Something about his demeanor seems different. You're sure that's just the anxiety talking. "Is something wrong, buddy? You're quieter than normal," he notes.

"Just... still kinda tired." You pick at the macaroni, hoping he doesn't press on about this.

"Awww... well, eat up, okay?"

Despite the lack of appetite, you force down the food. Every bite tastes like mush.

But if you don't finish it, you have the sinking feeling he'll know something's up. So, you force everything down, as well as the juice, which washes it down easier.

Within moments, a sudden wave of dizziness washes over you. "H...Hugo..."

Hugo gives a lopsided smile, somewhat apologetic. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I didn't want to do that, but found you messed with some of my stuff. My fault, I've been putting off getting locks for it. I swear, I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on!" He laughs. It borders on hysterical. "All I want is to be your dad... for you to let me care for you." He reaches out, brushing hair from your sweaty forehead. "But no need to worry. I doubt you'll remember any of today, anyway."

"No..." You try to stand, but end up collapsing forward. In the haze, you register being pulled upwards.

"You just can't help but be stubborn," he chastises. "Guess you got it from your old man."

"You aren't..." Your tongue begins to feel heavy, just like the rest of your body. "Not my..."

"Sleep, baby. Sleep. When you wake up, this will all just be a silly nightmare. Papa's got you. He'll always have you."

And despite your desperate attempts to stay awake, sleep eventually claims you, as black engulfs your vision.

The last thing you sense is your head being tucked underneath his chin, and hearing him hum the same melody he hummed in the hospital.

#parental yandere #platonic yandere #familial yandere #yandere #hugo oc #yandad #tw kidnapping #tw manipulation #forced infantilization #forced agere

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fruitlicense · 5 months ago

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I think I’ve figured out my favorite chemistry for the DC Trinity, as follows:

Superman and Wonder Woman are the kind of friends who treat each other like siblings, but they 100% mean it. They laugh, they hug, they get at least one meal together every week, they occasionally finish each other’s sentences, and when they’re in the same room you can tell they genuinely like each other. They know each other like siblings, too - one won’t know every detail about the other, but they can pull out years-old esoteric stories that no one else had any idea even happened, and they each have a keen sense of who the other is deep down. Clark and Diana know each other’s dreams, fears, and morals, and that trust is visible. The only thing that tells you they’re not actually related is that when they disagree, they argue like well-adjusted adults, without any psychological manipulation or maiming. Sparring is a bonding activity for them, not a way to express anger.

Wonder Woman and Batman have a bond that is entirely platonic but mind-bogglingly deep. They should have the kind of relationship where it’s perfectly normal for them to shower together after a mission and discuss what the Justice League’s next steps should be, but if you point out that it’s kind of weird for them to share a showerhead and a shampoo bottle they’ll act like you’re weird for pointing it out. Bruce is washing blood and concrete dust out of Diana’s hair. There are no sexual or romantic vibes whatsoever. They’re at a level where it’s almost like they’re two halves of the same mind, like if they got into some crazy magic mishap where they were sharing a body it would move like a well-oiled machine. Even when they disagree or argue it seems like a single entity having an internal battle. They have crazy trust, like knowing-every-corner-of-the-other’s-brain trust, to the point that the greatest way to show their affection to each other is allowing each other their secrets. Bruce doesn’t pry past Diana’s hard lines and she knows when to stop pushing him, and those boundaries are honored because literally all the others are gone.

Batman and Superman, however, have inexplicable vibes. At a glance they act like coworkers, or like good friends, but if you look longer than thirty seconds there’s something between them that’s tangible enough to cut - it’s also weirdly horny and literally no one else wants to get involved with it. You could walk into a room where Clark was making coffee and Bruce was doing paperwork and they weren’t talking to or looking at each other and you would feel like you were intruding on their marriage bed. They keep up the same level of professionalism with each other that they do with the rest of the Justice League but they might as well not fucking bother, because somehow it still seems like they’re incapable of not broadcasting that they want each other carnally. They also have a deep level of trust, but it’s not familial or platonic. It’s more like the kind you have with someone you’re so deeply in love with that you can’t fathom not sharing your entire self with them. The world could end in burning flames and they’d survive it without going insane as long as they had each other. No one is actually sure if they’ve ever acted on these feelings, or if they’re even aware that they have them.

All three of them would burn the world down for each other, obviously, so it’s a damn good thing they’re saving it instead.

#don’t ask me why this is how I see them #it just is #they’re just like that #they’re all insane about each other and ridiculously close just in three very different ways #dc trinity #clark kent #diana prince #bruce wayne #superman #wonder woman #batman #superbat #justice league #dc headcanon #dc

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straylightdream · 2 months ago

Text

heaven knows

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon wonwoo x f.reader x kim mingyu

who knew being roommates could turn into so much more.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, roommates to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non idol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 16.7k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nightmares from a past car accident mingyu had, anxiety, depression, body image issues, lots and lots of emotions, pregnancy, implied mxm (not really sexually but they hold hands and cuddle, the boys care deeply for each other)

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both rec), hand job, fingering, pussy stretching, big dick wonwoo, mingyu’s dick is even bigger, anal play, threesome, spit roasting, anal, double penetration, voyurism (both boys like to watch), needy reader, soft dom wonwoo (like he’s very soft, he just good a being in charge), nicknamed: baby, baby girl, princess (hers)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: mature, nsfw, 18+

𝐚𝐧: thank you so much to @gyubakeries for helping me out and beta reading this story. This is an older story that I really have been wanting to edit and rewrite. This just really made sense as a minwon story. I have fully reworked it and only some of the plot is the some and a couple scenes.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Laying in your full-size bed, your soft body was curled up against the muscular body of Wonwoo. Your leg was thrown over his waist as your head used his chest as a pillow. Your body couldn’t be any physically closer to his. Curled up behind you, Mingyu was nuzzled up tightly against you. Mingyu has always had a thing for having your ass pressed against him as he slept.

It’s been two years since you moved in with the boys. Originally you moved into the city for a new job. You packed up your life and moved in with your childhood best friend Jeonghan for a little while. Once you were situated fully at work you knew it was time to find somewhere to permanently live. You loved Jeonghan but living with him and his girlfriend made you feel like you were intruding on them. Even though they both constantly told otherwise. You worked for a publishing house and were lucky enough to be able to work from home most days. You were lucky Jeonghan had two friends who had a three bedroom apartment looking for another roommate.

As soon as you met your future roommates Wonwoo and Mingyu, you instantly clicked. They were both extremely easy to live with. They were both kind, extremely neat and tidy. Mingyu was even an amazing cook who adores cooking for his roommates.

Mingyu radiates golden retriever energy. He’s tall and beautiful with tan skin. He works as a freelance videographer. He frequently goes on work trips. A perks of his job is how much he gets to travel.

Wonwoo is the black cat to his roommate's golden retriever. He’s more quiet and reserved with people he doesn’t know. Once he opens up with someone you can see how funny and, at the same time, serious he can be. He works from home like you do. He works at a big tech company, and also does streaming on the side. He also has to travel quite frequently for his job.

Things with the three of you started out platonic. Sure from the very beginning there were lingering touches and longing looks shared between you and the boys, but it was nothing romantic. Cuddling in bed was the closest you got to romance. You had fallen into this cycle of all of you sleeping in bed together.

It all started one night when you had a really bad nightmare and went to the kitchen to get water, and found Mingyu sitting on the barstool at the counter. He also couldn’t sleep himself. He told you about the nightmares he’s had since he was in college. You learned about the bad car crash he was in that almost killed him. He said he doesn’t really talk about it often. You were the only person he opened up to about that night other than Wonwoo.

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” he sighs.

“You don’t have to. I can lay with you if you want.” Part of you felt like you were crossing a boundary that you probably shouldn’t. But there was something about Mingyu that always gave you a sense of comfort.

Following Mingyu to his bedroom, you each take a side of the bed. For a while you just lay there staring at each other. After a while Mingyu reaches out to take your hand.

“Could I possibly hold you?” He asked barely above a whisper.

“Of course.” He pulls you close to him and ask you to roll over. Laying on his side, he moves so he presses up snug against you with his hand holding your soft stomach.

That was the first night you and Mingyu innocently shared a bed together.

It became a frequent habit of both of you sleeping together just to cuddle after Mingyu would have nightmares. Wonwoo joined in one night about a month in when he walked into Mingyu’s room to check on him and found him curled up next to you. You were both wide awake and spooning while talking. You both looked over at Wonwoo with the look of a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I had a nightmare again and asked if she would lay with me.”

“Gyu, why didn’t you tell me?” Wonwoo’s face drops a little and he looks sad. Mingyu had mentioned that in the past, especially during college after his accident, Wonwoo was always by his side. He had said in the beginning that he couldn’t even sleep alone and Wonwoo would lay in his bed, holding his hand.

“I’ve been sleeping like this with (Y/N) for about a month.”

“Oh.” Part of you feels guilty that Wonwoo seems hurt.

“Did you want to join us?” Mingyu asked, tugging you closer to him.

“Would you mind?” Wonwoo sounds nervous. You both just shake your head. Slowly he crawls into Mingyu’s bed and curls up onto the other side of the bed in front of you. From that night on you rarely ever slept alone.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You nuzzled against Wonwoo’s chest as you started to slowly wake up. Mingyu’s strong hand gently rubbed your thigh letting you know he was awake. Gently, you rolled off of Wonwoo, trying not to wake him up. Looking over at Mingyu who had moved back a little to give you room.

He laid on his back and signaled for you to cuddle up against him. You moved back into the position you had just been laying on Wonwoo. Your leg once again was tossed over Mingyu’s waist as your head nuzzled against Mingyu’s strong chest.

His hand grips your thigh and pulls you even closer to him. A soft moan passes your lips unexpectedly. This was the first time your cuddling had even gotten close to sexual. There was suddenly a thick sexual tension between you as you let out another low moan when your pajama covered cored rutted against his hip. Your eyes went wide as you bit your lip. You didn’t mean to moan, but the way he was pulling you closer to him was intoxicating.

His warm eyes locked onto yours, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind. You suddenly felt embarrassed at the fact you moaned as your body moved against him. Your eyes quickly moved away from his dark ones.

“Should I sleep somewhere else?” You rasped lightly, finally breaking the silence.

He shook his head quickly. The last thing he wanted was for you to sleep somewhere else, at this point he didn’t know if he was able to actually sleep all night without you or Wonwoo.

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo said, sitting up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over at the two of you confused about what was going on.

You rolled off of Mingyu quickly and laid on your back staring at the ceiling. You wondered if maybe it was time for you to start sleeping alone again. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. You were starting to develop feelings for both of the men you were sharing a bed with.

“I think I need to sleep alone,” you continued to stare at the ceiling. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at either of them. The embarrassment creeping across your face.

“What? Why?” Wonwoo his voice sounds raspy and sounds sleepy. He had just woken up to you suddenly saying that you didn’t want to sleep with them anymore.

“Because I can’t keep telling myself I don’t have feelings for you,” you felt embarrassed that you had to confess the feelings you had for them. You never planned on telling them. You felt as if your feelings might be one sided. Your cheeks burned bright as your eyes looked over slowly at Wonwoo and then at Mingyu who both had the same wide-eyed look as they stared at each other. Maybe if the bed would open and swallow you whole you could escape this.

“I mean I like you too,” Wonwoo said, speaking up as he looked down at you. He pushes his fingers through his messy hair.

Mingyu nodded his head, “I like you too.”

“Oh,” you were completely caught off guard. Mingyu was a man who had no issue with skinship. You hadn’t even thought about the possibility he would like you as more than a friend. Wonwoo had always been more closed off, almost afraid to put himself out there. The thought of him like you wasn’t something you could picture.

Leaning down, Wonwoo gently presses his lips to yours like he’s testing the water. Pulling back for a moment he gives you a smile. Without even thinking you lean forward pressing your lips to his.

Mingyu sits up and lets out a little laugh. “Why did I always know Wonwoo was going to be the first to kiss you.” The whole situation feels like a dream. Looking over at Mingyu, you stare at him, knitting your brows together.

Gently he reaches out resting his hand on your cheek. His thumb drags across your bottom lip. “I’ve never minded sharing with Wonwoo,” he whispers.

The moment your lips touch Mingyu’s you relax. Kissing both the boys just feels so right. Pulling away, Mingyu rests his nose against yours and smiles.

“Can we maybe talk more about this later? I’m exhausted and still want to cuddle,” Wonwoo asked as he laid back down.

“Okay we can talk about details later,” you said, still attempting to process everything.

Wonwoo moved so he was laying on his side and pulled your soft body so you were curled up against him. Mingyu smiled as he watched you curl up against Wonwoo.

“Are you going to join?” You asked.

He nodded his head as he slowly moved to become the little spoon in front of you. His strong body pressed against your soft one. Your hand was over his waist and he reached up and laced his fingers with yours and gave your hand a little squeeze.

Wonwoo gently pressed his lips to your bare shoulder and whispered, “I’m glad you moved in with us.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s a rare day when yours and Jeonghan’s schedules fully line up, and you find yourself itting in a coffee shop, where he’s telling you about his latest promotion at work.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in ages. I have seen Wonwoo or Mingyu either,” Jeonghan says before taking a drink of his coffee.

“They’re both really busy with work, and work has been stressing me out. I really only see the boys at night now.”

“Are you sleeping better now?” Jeonghan knows about your nightmares and how sometimes you can barely find sleep because you can’t turn your mind off.

A heavy sigh passes your lips. How do you explain to Jeonghan that the only way you can really sleep now is curled up against your roommates? You aren’t even sure how to define your relationship with the boys. Are they technically both your boyfriends?

“Yeah, I am.”

Jeonghan studies you by knitting his eyebrows together. “How is it living with the boys? Are you still liking it like you used to?”

“Yeah, they’re great.”

A smile forms on his face. “So which one of the boys do you have a crush on?” Your face instantly burns with embarrassment and you don’t even know how to respond. “My original thought was Mingyu, but I think Wonwoo’s black cat gamer tech boy thing might get you.”

”Hannie.”

“Oh it’s definitely Wonwoo,” he perks up at the fact he thinks he figures you out. There is no point in correcting him, and maybe it’s best if he just thinks you like one of your roommates.

“Enough about who I may or may not be crushing on.” Reaching out you grab your cup of coffee. “How is your girlfriend? Have you proposed yet?”

His smile instantly drops now that you have turned the tables on him. “You know, before her, I never wanted to get married, and don’t get me wrong—I want to marry her. I just don’t know if this is the right time.”

“When do you think the right time will be?”

“I think I’m just scared, but probably now,” His girlfriend has brought up getting married a bunch. Jeonghan was her first serious relationship after her college boyfriend cheated on her and she fell hard for your best friend.

“Hannie, I think you need to stop being scared. She’s literally perfect for you.”

“I like that you turned the tables on me. Instead of just talking about your crush you brought this up,” he shakes his head taking another drink of his coffee.

“I learned from the best.” He can’t help but smile at your response.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Mingyu was away for a video shoot in Japan he was filming. This was your first time alone with Wonwoo since you confessed your feelings and shared your first kiss with each boy. You’ve fooled around quite a bit together. Each boy can’t seem to keep their hands off you and Wonwoo has his head between your legs any chance he gets. The man is very passionate about eating you out any chance he gets.

Mingyu was supposed to be arriving home any time soon. As Mingyu was leaving, he had asked Wonwoo to look after you. He called you “their girl”—the sweet nickname that left you wanting to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Wonwoo and you were curled up on the couch. You leaned into his side as the movie you were watching played on the tv in front of you. His strong hand rested on your thigh as he aimlessly drew circles onto the skin. His touch caught your attention. You glanced up at him as you were attempting to watch the movie. How were you supposed to focus on a movie when the man that was always capturing your attention was touching you?

His focus was on the tv in front of him, but he could feel you looking at him. He looked down at you with a smile playing across his lips.

“Yes, Princess?”

Your eyes narrowed, “you can’t just touch me and expect me to actually watch the movie playing.”

He bit his bottom lip and held back a smile.

“Did you want it to be more than an innocent touch?” he asks as his hand moved towards the inside of your thigh. Slowly, you nod. Over your leggings, he gropes your core with his large hand. You close your eyes as you take in the feeling.

A soft moan passes your lips. Without warning, he pulls his hand away from you. He doesn’t give you a chance to think before he moves you so you were facing each other. He reaches forward and connects his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair pulls you closer to him as your lips danced together. His strong hands grab your soft hips, moving you so you were straddling his waist. His hands roam your back as your lips continue to move against each other. The way you were kissing, you would have sworn that you needed each other to breathe. The sound of the door opening caused you to pull apart. With wide eyes you both looked up to see Mingyu standing by the tv.

“I see you took care of our girl,” Mingyu smiled as he stared at the pair of you who look like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Hey Gyu,” Wonwoo awkwardly said as you crawled off of him, and moved back to your spot on the couch you had been sitting on.

“Why are you two acting like I just walked in on you cheating on me?” Mingyu was confused on why you were suddenly acting guilty.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.” This was all new to you. It felt strange that Mingyu would be okay with you openly kissing his best friend.

“(Y/N), you’re allowed to kiss Wonwoo and do whatever you want with him. You don’t ever need to ask for my permission,” he smiled as he walked towards you and sat on the coffee table that was sat in front of the couch. He reached over and placed his hand under your chin and gently tilted your head up so you were looking into his warm eyes. “I could have walked in on you two fucking on the couch and I wouldn’t have cared. The ball is in your court at all times, Princess. Whatever you want from all this is what you get. If you want to be with both of us, you can. If you only want to be with only one of us, we both understand.”

Both Wonwoo and Mingyu wanted you to be happy, and they both had agreed that no matter what happened, your happiness was what mattered the most.

“I want both of you guys,” you whisper, still almost unsure that all of this was real. How could both of these men possibly be okay with openly sharing your affection?

“Then you have both of us Princess,” Wonwoo said from beside you.

“Did you want me to leave so you guys can go back to making out on the couch?” Mingyu asked with a soft laugh as he released your chin. “Things seemed to be heating up. Maybe Wonwoo could lay you down the couch and eat you out.” He earns a laugh from Wonwoo.

“No, did you want to cuddle and watch the movie with us?” You asked.

“I would love that.”

You moved back into Wonwoo’s side and Mingyu sat down on the couch next to you and rested his hand on your thigh.

“I missed you guys,” Mingyu smiled gently, massaging your thighs, earning a soft sigh from you.

“We missed you too,” Wonwoo said before leaning over and pressing his lips to the top of his favorite girl's head.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sitting in the kitchen you’re working on a project that is due soon. Mingyu is making breakfast and Wonwoo is on his phone intently reading something.

“I need you two not to judge me, but I need to ask something?”

Mingyu continues to whisk his pancake batter, “shoot.”

“I don’t exactly want to assume, but assuming we were to start having sex. How would that work with the three of us?”

“Didn’t Mingyu eat you out earlier this morning?” Wonwoo chimes in.

“I think she means fully having sex. I don’t think she means what we have been doing.” Mingyu responds.

“Well, we can do it however you want. You can have one on one sex with each of us. You can have all both of us in the room. Hell, you can have both of us at the same time,” Wonwoo’s final sentence earns a smirk from Mingyu.

The thought of a threesome before this all started never even crossed your mind. Yet now you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be with both of them at the same time.

“I’ve never done any kind of butt stuff.” You nervously say.

“Do you ever want to?” Something tells you Wonwoo is familiar with what you would need to do to enjoy anal.

“I’m intrigued by it. I would definitely want to try it out separately. I don’t think I’m prepared to try it while taking one of you at the same time.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh, “baby the first time you try anal it won’t be while I’m inside you.” You almost find it funny. It's assumed that Wonwoo is the first person you will try anal with. It probably has something to do with Mingyu’s size. You’ve given him head quite a few times and you can’t even fit half of him in your mouth. You’re quite familiar with Wonwoo’s cock now as well and he’s large but much more manageable.

“Do you think maybe I could have a solo first time with each of you?”

“Of course. Do you have a preference on who you would like first?” Wonwoo asked.

There is a nasty thought eating away at you that you’ll hurt one of their feelings if you pick one of them.

“I don’t want to hurt either of your feelings. I don't want you to think I have a favorite.”

Wonwoo sets his phone down, raising his eyebrow, “nobody thinks you have favorites.”

“If you want Wonwoo to be first I won’t be upset,” Mingyu says as he starts pouring the batter into the hot skillet.

“How about I make this easy for you. Joshua asked me to go to the gym this afternoon and meet up with Seungcheol. Why don’t you and Mingyu spend some quality time together. Maybe you can take your clothes off.”

Mingyu smiles as he focuses on making breakfast. Your cheeks burn a little at the thought of what is going to unfold when Wonwoo leaves. “That works for me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Mingyu smiles.

Your first time with Mingyu was everything you imagined it would be. He was gentle and took his time to fully explore your body.

Laying on his bed in his room he used to sleep in, your legs are spread. He’s laying between them with his hard cock pressed against your core. He just finished eating you out until you cried. He decided now he needed to focus on other parts of your body. His lips are attached to your perk nipple. One hand groped the other as his lips were focused on your nipple. The way he’s using his mouth made you feel like you might cum just like this. Your eyes are closed and your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close to your chest. Ever so often he’ll grind his cock against your mound, giving you the friction you desperately crave.

“Mingyu- please-” you’re not even ashamed to beg for more.

Releasing your nipple with a pop, some of his saliva is attached to your puffy nipple. “Yes princess?”

“Please just I need you inside of me.”

Pulling his body up onto his knees. “Do I need to use a condom?”

“Um, we didn't discuss that with Wonwoo.” You feel stupid this is definitely something the three of you should have discussed.

“Are you on birth control?” Silently you nod. “Did you want to go bare?” You’ve never done it before and the thought of Mingyu’s huge dick being inside of you bare is almost enough in itself to make you cum. “I want our first time to be completely bare, but we need to ask Wonwoo if he’s okay with that as well.”

“Do you have to call Wonwoo?”

A heavy sigh passes his lips as he crawls off the bed. He walks over to the dresser where he left his phone. You take this time to admire his beautiful naked body that’s on display. Opening his phone he goes into his favorites and hits Wonwoo’s contact. He presses the speaker and sets his phone on the bed next to you where you’re laying in the same position. It rings all of four times before Wonwoo answers.

“Gyu what’s up?”

“Please tell me I’m not on speaker?” Mingyu asked, crawling back onto the bed.

“No, what's up?”

“Can you take this call in a private place? The boys don’t need to hear any of this conversation.” Mingyu sits on his knees in between your spread legs.

“Is everything okay with (Y/N)?” You can hear the background noise on Wonwoo’s side getting quieter and quieter.

“I’m okay,” you finally speak up.

“Hi baby,” Wonwoo responds.

“Hi Wonu.”

“What’s going on that I have to make sure the boys can’t hear?”

A smile forms on Mingyu’s lips as he rubs your knee, “well, me and princess were about ready to fuck and we realized that we never discussed what the rule is with condoms.”

“Mingyu, it's more of her call on if she wants us to wear them.” Wonwoo responded immediately.

“Shouldn’t you both agree on if we decide to go bare?” You speak up.

“Baby I would prefer we don’t use them, but that’s if you’re on birth control and Mingyu is also okay with it.”

“She on birth control and fuck, I desperately want to feel her raw.”

“So, no condoms?” You ask.

“We don’t have to use them. I’m clean. I got tested the month after you moved in and I haven’t been with anyone since.” Wonwoo says.

“I’m also clean.” Mingyu chimes in.

“Same here. I haven’t had sex in like four years.” You still feel a little embarrassed admitting that.

“Have fun you two,” You can picture him smiling on the other end. “Princess, when I get home, how about I steal you away for a while?”

“Okay.”

“Bye guys.”

“Bye Wonwoo,” You both say.

Mingyu ends the call and tosses his phone away from you. “Princess, where were we?” He gets back into the same position hovering over you. He reaches between you taking his length in his hand. “It might hurt a little. If it’s too much just tell me.”

Leaning up, you press your lips to his for a gentle kiss. “I’m ready.”

It wasn’t a lie. The feeling of him stretching you out did hurt. A gasp passes your lips as you attempt to adjust to the feeling of him. Leaning down, his nose rests against yours.

A soft whimper passes your lips.

“Baby I’m sorry.” He sounds distraught.

“Please just go slow.”

He treats you like you’re made of glass. His thrust is slow but deep. Connecting his lips to yours, he helps take your mind away from the aching feeling below. With each thrust the painful feeling starts to disappear.

“You feel so good,” he moans against your lips.

Your hands crawl across his back, wanting to desperately touch every part of him.

The coil in your stomach tightens as you get closer and closer to finding your release. Every muscle feels as if it’s tightening when your high washes over you. Your walls contract, pulling on his large length.

His own high has him moaning against your lips. He fills you with thick white ropes of his release. Dropping down to his elbows, he lays some of his weight on your soft body. Your fingers run through his hair, enjoying the feeling of him being so close. “I love you,” he softly whispers against the delicate skin on your chest. Almost as if he doesn’t want you to hear.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. This is the first time these words have been exchanged, but you truly love them both.

After a little while, Mingyu removed himself from you and cleaned up his release before crawling into bed with you. An afternoon nap felt like the perfect post sex aftercare.

Slowly your eyes opened up at the feeling of the bed moving. The room was dim, letting you know the sun was setting. Silently you watched as Mingyu was trying his hardest to be quiet.

“Where are you going?” Your voice is soft.

Looking back at you he steps closer to the bed. Leaning down he kisses your lips gently. “I just got a text asking to check some emails and seeing if I could help Vernon with some editing for a shoot he did.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Baby don’t worry I’m not leaving you alone. Wonwoo just got home and is in the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

A smile pulls on his lips, “I think he’s showering and you joining him might be the perfect surprise. He’s using his old bathroom with the walk-in shower.” The bathroom connected to the main room you all sleep in is a pretty big shower bath combo.

Another quick kiss is pressed to your lips before he leaves you alone in bed.

Slowly crawling out of bed you are debating on getting dressed. Deciding to be brave you walk down the small hallway to the bathroom naked.

Opening the bathroom door as silently as possible, you step inside. The sight of Wonwoo’s very naked body through the glass is practically mouth watering.

The door clicking shut catches his attention. He looks at you smiling.

“Are you going to join me?” He speaks a little louder to hear him over the water.

Stepping into the shower, he wasted no time pulling you close to him. Pressing his lips to yours for a heated kiss.

“Did Gyu take care of you?”

Your nose rests against his as you say, “yes he did. Are you going to take care of me now?”

“Let me wash your hair.”

Stepping under the warm water Wonwoo takes his time massaging your favorite strawberry shampoo into your scalp. Reaching back, your hand runs across his wet skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Maybe?” You smile.

“Baby let me wash your hair and take care of you, and then I will take my time exploring your beautiful body fully.”

He keeps his word. He washes your hair and then takes his time washing your body with your favorite body wash. Once out of the shower he wraps a towel around you before he blow dries your hair.

With lust filled eyes you watch as he dries his own body. Holding his hand out he takes your towel from you leaving you both fully naked.

Stepping into the hallway, you get one step away from him before he wraps his around you pulling you back against him. His hard cock pressing against your lower back. He helps you walk towards the living room holding you close.

You don’t even make it your bedroom. He takes you down to the living room floor. Luckily on top of the soft rug Mingyu made a big deal about buying.

“Baby our first time should be on our comfy bed,” he sighs as you kiss his neck.

“Wonwoo, I want you. You’re the one who dragged me down here.” You say with a soft laugh.

Pulling away from you he stands up. Holding his hand out he helps you stand up. “You can have me. But let me take care of you in bed.” Pulling away from you, he stands up. Holding his hand out, he helps you stand.

Walking into your shared room you crawl on to your unmade bed. Wonwoo joins you, taking his time to kiss his way across your body while he takes his time fingering you. Pulling his finger from your core he smiles at the sight of some of Mingyu’s cum.

“I see Mingyu took advantage of not wearing a condom.” You feel instantly red with embarrassment. Your attempts to close your legs are instantly stopped by him. “Baby, don’t be embarrassed. I like it,” He chuckles. He holds his fingers close to you. Deciding to be brave, you wrap your lips around his finger, taking Mingyu’s release into your mouth. “I see you like it too.”

He takes his time kissing everywhere his mouth can reach. His lips focused on pebbles nipples as his fingers start pumping in and out of you. For your first orgasm, you fall apart moaning his name.

“Baby lay on your side.”

He comes up behind you, rubbing his cock through your folds, gathering your release. He takes your leg, helping you rest your foot on his leg to give him more access to your core.

The hand under your body massages your heavy breast. Ever so slowly he pushes his length into you. He’s definitely larger then the average man, but not as big as Mingyu. The stretch feels absolutely intoxicating.

His hips move into you at a slow but deep pace. The echoing sounds of his low groans, and your moans fill the room.

“Baby can you play with your clit?” He moans in your ear.

Your hand immediately goes to your puffy clit,making quick circles on your sensitive nub. The orgasm that hits you feels like a white wave. Everything feels fuzzy. His thrust pick up, chasing his own release as your walls contract.

His hand grips your hip, pulling you back on him. Tilting your head back he crashes his lips into yours. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you like he needs you to breathe.

He doesn’t pull out, he just holds your body close. Your heart is telling you to say those three words you told Mingyu. Without thinking you say, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love both of you.”

You don’t have to look back to know he’s smiling. “Did Gyu say he loved you?”

“He whispered it to me.”

“He's been holding back saying that for a month.” He presses his lips to your shoulder. “I need to clean you up but right now I just want to stay inside you.”

“We can stay like this.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Seungcheol decided to throw a little get-together at his place. Wonwoo drove the two of you and Mingyu was coming later.

Wonwoo was in the kitchen talking to Joshua and Seungcheol while you were sitting on the small balcony with Jeonghan drinking a glass of wine.

“Where is your girlfriend?” You asked him.

“She had to work a late shift at the bar.” Jeonghan’s girlfriend works as a bartender at the bar you all frequently meet at downtown.

“I feel like I haven’t seen her in forever. Tell her we should have another wine night.”

Jeonghan smiles before taking a drink of his beer, “I will definitely let her know.”

The sound of laughter through the sliding glass door catches your attention. Looking back you see Wonwoo and Seungcheol laughing about something.

“So did you figure out your crush on Wonwoo?”

“You could say that,” you hadn’t actually told anything about what was going on with the boys. “I’ve kinda started something with him.”

“I think Wonwoo would be good for you.” Jeonghan truly only wants what’s best for you.

The sound of the sliding glass door opening catches your attention. Mingyu is standing over you, smiling.

“Hey Hannie,” he waves to your best friend. “Hi baby,” he leans down pressing his lips to yours for a quick kiss. “Did you need anything to drink?”

“No, I'm good. Thank you though.” You say, holding up your glass of wine.

“I’m gonna chat with the boys inside.”

Jeonghan’s eyes are about bulging out of his head as Mingyu leaves the porch. “Does Wonwoo know you’re kissing Mingyu?”

A heavy sigh passes your lips. Leaning further back into your seat, “yes Wonwoo knows, and before you ask, Mingyu knows about Wonwoo.”

“Are you trying a poly situation?”

“Yeah I guess you could call it that. It started out innocent. We originally used to just cuddle because I can’t sleep and Mingyu gets nightmares.”

A smile forms on Jeonghan’s face, “is it no longer innocent?”

“Hannie,” instantly you roll your eyes.

“Are you fucking both of them now?” He sounds so excited asking you this.

“Yes.”

“Are you having threesomes?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, I’m giving you no details about my sex life.”

The sliding glass door opens and Wonwoo peaks his head out, “come inside, the pizza here is here.”

Standing up you walk inside and Wonwoo instantly pulls you into his chest. He presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “The boys know about us and Mingyu.”

“Hannie knows too.”

“That’s good. We have nothing to hide,” he presses his lips to yours for another kiss.

“Baby do you want pizza?” Mingyu asked over at the counter.

“Yes, please.”

Wonwoo stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Leaning back against him you instantly relax.

The night with your friends is nice. It’s rare that everyone gets a chance to hang out. Mingyu takes your hand, leading you out of Seungcheol house. He’s been yawning nonstop for the last hour.

Walking into the apartment, Mingyu heads off to take a shower while Wonwoo heads off to the kitchen. You join Wonwoo in the kitchen. He making a cup of tea.

“Princess, would you like a cup?”

“Yes please.”

“Mingyu seems extra tired tonight,” Wonwoo sighs.

“I think he needs to get some sleep. I think his shoot today was draining.”

After drinking your cup of tea you find Mingyu already curled up in bed and sound asleep. It’s not long before you fall asleep curled up between the boys.

Waking up in the middle of the night the first thing you notice is the room is empty. You’re confused on where both the boys went. Slowly getting up, you walk into the living room and find Wonwoo and Mingyu on the couch together. Mingyu is lying on the couch with his head resting in Wonwoo's lap. Wonwoo is gently brushing his fingers through Mingyu’s dark curls. Mingyu is clearly sleeping fully relaxed resting on Wonwoo.

“Is everything okay?” You whisper walking towards him.

“Gyu had a bad nightmare and I just got him to calm down.” Before you started living with them Mingyu told you that Wonwoo would take care of him after having nightmares. It’s very sweet seeing Mingyu curled up against Wonwoo relaxing.

“Sorry if we woke you up,” Wonwoo says just above a whisper.

“You’re fine. How bad was his nightmare?”

“He woke up crying for the first time in a while. Back in college, they were like this constantly. It got so bad that I had to put a mattress on the floor by his bed. Eventually I would just lay in bed holding his hand while he slept.”

“You both have a special connection.” You aren’t sure if they ever shared a romantic connection before you came around, but it’s clear they both love and deeply care for each other.

“Gyu is my best friend and I would do anything to make him feel better.” Wonwoo continues running his fingers through Mingyu’s hair.

“Do you think we should get him to go back to bed? This can’t be comfortable for you to sleep.” You ask.

Gently Wonwoo rubs Mingyu’s arm. “Gyu, let’s go to bed. Our baby wants to cuddle with you.”

Mingyu’s eyes slowly open. “Can I lay in the middle please?” He sounds as if he’s barely awake.

“Of course.”

Laying in bed Mingyu stares at the ceiling. His breathing is uneven. “Gyu, what’s wrong?” Wonwoo asked, lying on his side facing Mingyu.

“Can you hold me Wonwoo?” A gentle smile tugs at your lips. You love seeing how much they mean to each other.

“Of course. Did you wanna hold princess while I hold you?”

“Yeah.”

Mingyu moves to his side so he’s facing you. Wonwoo curls up behind Mingyu, spooning him. Mingyu let out a soft hum as Wonwoo gently rested his hand on his stomach.

Curling up in front of Mingyu he holds you close. “This is nice,” Mingyu whispers.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Both of your boys were away for the weekend. They both decided to go home to see their families together and you couldn’t help but get lost in your own thoughts as you laid in your bed alone for the first time in forever. You were starting to doubt yourself, you didn’t understand why two men would want to be with you. Let alone two men who looked like them. Glancing over at the clock you saw the time read two in the morning. You weren’t even close to tired anymore.

Lifting the covers, you crawled out of bed and walked off towards your bathroom starting the warm water. You slowly stripped off your clothes and stepped into the water. The warm water engulfed your body, you couldn’t help it as tears started to slide down your cheeks. You were over thinking everything and you knew it. You had a really rough day at work. It was a rare day when you had to go into the office and just anything that could go wrong did go wrong. Your shitty day at work probably wasn’t helping at all. Another thing was you were supposed to start your period any day and that always made you emotional. You ran your hands across your tear stained face and washed away your tears.

You stayed in the shower for what felt like forever before you finally got out. You shut the water off and wrapped a towel around you. As you turned around, you heard the bathroom door open and turned to find Mingyu walking inside looking exhausted.

Suddenly you felt embarrassed by the fact that Mingyu walked into the bathroom to find you crying in the middle of the night.

His soft eyes roamed your face attempting to figure out what was wrong with you. “Baby, what's wrong?” he stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around your basically naked body, pulling you into his chest.

“I just had a rough day, and started over thinking about everything,” you sighed as the tears continued to slide down her cheeks. You felt stupid that you let little things get you down, but you couldn’t help it.

His strong hand gently rubbed your back as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and held on to him. You knew you didn’t need to be crying, but you couldn’t help it.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” You murmured, still holding on to him.

He pulled away from you and gave you a small smile, “he’s exhausted. The second we got back, he stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.”

“Oh, okay,” you whispered.

“Baby, what aren’t you telling me?” he had both his hands on your arms, staring at you to figure out what was going on in your head.

“Why do you guys want to be with me? I’m literally nothing special,” you sighed. “Half the time I feel like I’m an emotional wreck.”

He moved his strong hand and gently rested it under your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking at him, “you are so beautiful inside and out. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I’m pretty sure Wonwoo feels the same way.”

“I don’t feel like I’m worthy of the feelings you guys have for me,” you sighed.

“Don’t ever say that,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to your tear stained cheek. “Stop doubting yourself.”

“Why do you put some pajamas on and we’ll crawl into bed with Wonwoo?” He gave you a simple smile. “or if you want you can just take that towel off and crawl into bed,” he smirked slightly.

“I’ll get dressed for bed,” you reached over and picked up your oversized shirt that was on the sink next to where you were standing. Mingyu watched you as you slowly got dressed for bed. He wasted no time lacing his fingers with yours and led you towards your bed. As you got close to the bed you found Wonwoo sound asleep on the far end of the bed. You crawled onto the bed and moved over closer to Wonwoo. His eyes slowly opened and saw you giving him a sad smile.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up noticing something was wrong. He looked over at Mingyu who had a concerned look on his face. “Mingyu what's going on?”

“Our girl had a rough day and needs some love.”

Wonwoo didn’t bother responding, he leaned forward and gently connected his lips to yours. His hand rested on your cheek as he stared at you for a moment.

“Why do you guys like me so much?” you whispered.

“I can list a million reasons if you want me to,” he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. His hand was resting on your cheek.

Mingyu moved onto the bed and rubbed your back gently before pressing his lips gently to your shirt-covered shoulder.

“Why don’t we all get some sleep princess?” he whispered.

“I think Mingyu has a good idea,” Wonwoo whispered.

Wonwoo laid back down and you curled up against him and he pressed his lips to the top of your head. Mingyu curled up behind you and whispered, “baby we love you so much.”

“Mingyu is right, we love you,” Wonwoo chimed in.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Wonwoo gripped your hips as his own hips thrust into you over and over again. You couldn’t help but moan his name over and over again. Your hands moved to grip the sheets next to your hips. Mingyu had gone to workout, leaving you and Wonwoo alone for a little while, and it didn’t take long before Wonwoo had you naked and on your back.

He sat back on his haunches as his hips thrust into yours over and over again. Your back arched as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Wonwoo,” your high pitched moan echoed off the walls.

“Babygirl, let go,” he rasped as he leaned forward. He pressed his lips to your soft stomach as he rolled his hips against yours. You wanted every piece of the man thrusting into you. Everything about him was absolutely intoxicating to you. His skin glistened with sweat as he looked down at you like you were his world.

It only took a few more thrust before he pushed you over the edge. Your walls pulled him in, and he thrust a few more times before he hit his own high. He laid down on the bed next to you and stared at the ceiling as he panted. He looked over at you to see you with a huge smile on your face. If you looked up word bliss in the dictionary, this moment would be found.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, reaching over and lacing his fingers with yours.

Silently you nod as you look over at him.

“I hate that I have to leave for a business trip soon. I wish I could just stay here with you and Mingyu.” You hate when the boys have to travel for work, but you never tell them. You always tell them they’ll be back before they know it. “I’m going to miss you baby.”

“I always miss you.”

Leaning over he presses his lips to your. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulls away smiling at you.

“Man, Mingyu missed out by going and working out,” he laughed softly.

Before you could respond the door to your room opened and Mingyu walked inside to see you and Wonwoo naked lying in bed. Mingyu pushed his eyebrows together and smiled at the sight in front of him.

“I see I missed the fun,” he walked over and sat down on the bed.

“I got my own workout in,” Wonwoo teased.

“I guess I should stop going to the gym,” Mingyu jokes.”I’m sure Seungcheol would understand if I told him I got a new work plan going. I could tell him all about my new personal trainer who can’t keep her clothes on.” Wonwoo chuckles softly at Mingyu's statement.

“Well if you’re not too tired I’m sure (Y/N) would let you get another workout in,” Wonwoo lifted your hand up and pressed a light kiss to the top of delicate skin on top.

You bit your lip and smiled. You couldn’t believe you were so lucky that two beautiful men seemed to be absolutely in love with you and both wanted to sleep with you.

“Princess, could you go for another round?” Mingyu asked, looking at you.

“I guess,” you joke. Even if you were absolutely exhausted you couldn’t turn down the chance to be with Mingyu. Sex with him is always intense and he like for you to be a pillow princess so he can worship you.

“I’ll give you guys some alone time. I’m in need of a shower,” Wonwoo released your hand and got out of bed.

Mingyu pulled off his shirt and watched as you sat up and leaned against the headboard. Wonwoo walked over and patted Mingyu on the back before heading off to the bathroom. Mingyu reached down and pushed off his sweatpants and his boxers. Hungry eyes traveled up and down his toned body. The sight of his naked body was absolutely mouthwatering. Crawling onto the bed he watched as you laid back down and smiled at him. He moved so he was hovering over you and connected his lips to yours for a passionate kiss.

“I need to stop leaving you and Wonwoo alone,” he rasped with his lips brushing against yours.

“At least he is also giving you alone time with me,” you reached up and rested your hand on his cheek.

“Remind me to thank him for that,” he smiled before pressing his lips to yours again.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As the clock struck four am Wonwoo pulled himself away from your sleeping form that was curled up next to him. He was attempting to not wake you up, but you were a light sleeper and the second he moved your eyes opened.

“Is it time for you to leave?” You whispered, attempting to not wake Mingyu who was sound asleep next to you. He has a very early flight to catch. He hates that he’s been going on business trips more often recently.

“Yeah baby, my flight is super early. I’ll be back in three days,” he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a kiss goodbye. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Please come back safe,” you said as you watched him walk out of your bedroom.

You rolled over and curled up next to Mingyu who hadn’t even woken up. Since you’ve been constantly sharing a bed, Mingyu’s nightmares barely seem to happen now.

Closing your eyes you only got a little more sleep before you woke up again. Laying in bed you curled up close to Mingyu. He had his arm wrapped around you holding your close. You had a big day ahead of you today. While Wonwoo was away and your mother was coming into town. The three of you had talked it out and agreed that you would say you were only dating Mingyu for the time being. You still couldn’t help but be nervous. You hadn’t ever had many of your past partners meet your mother.

Your head was resting on his strong chest as you attempted to go to sleep.

“Baby, are you awake?” he asked as his strong hand gently rubbed your side.

“I can’t sleep,” You whispered.

“Do you maybe wanna take a bubble bath?” he asked, knowing that was one of your favorite ways to relax.

“Mingyu it’s five in the morning,” you glanced over at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

“So,” he didn’t see a problem in you taking a bubble bath.

“Alright let’s take a bubble bath,” you said softly.

Pulling away from Mingyu’s body you slowly got out of bed and followed Mingyu off to the bathroom. Mingyu walked over to the bathtub and started feeling it up with warm water. You reached under the sink and pulled out one of your favorite bath bombs and dropped it into the warm water.

As the water started to rise Mingyu stripped away his boxers and stepped into the warm water. You removed your undies and oversized shirt and stepped in the tub in front of him. You leaned against his bare body and instantly relaxed against his touch. His strong hand rested on your thigh and aimlessly drew circles on your skin.

It was moments like this you were happy that you had Mingyu in your life. He always knew the best ways to calm you down.

“I miss Wonwoo,” you whispered. When this all first started you worried about stating your feelings for the other man, but they both constantly informed you they weren’t competing for your love. You were allowed to love both of them equally.

“I miss Wonwoo too, baby.” Wonwoo was truly Mingyu's other half. They shared a bond like you have never seen before. You feel as if they’re soulmates and we’re always supposed to be in each other's lives.

Leaning your head back you rested your head against Mingyu’s shoulder. You were exhausted but so nervous about tomorrow you couldn't sleep.

You knew you don’t need to be nervous. You weren’t telling your mother that you were involved with both Wonwoo and Mingyu, you were only telling her about Mingyu.

“If Wonwoo was here would all of us fit in this tub?” His words caused you to smile.

“I guess it would have been a relaxing night time shower then,” you lightly laughed.

He pressed his lips to the side of your neck for a gentle kiss and you couldn’t help but smile. His touch was so relaxing to you.

“Are you worried your mom isn’t going to like me?” Mingyu couldn’t lie, he was nervous your mother wasn’t going to like him. When they agreed that you would tell your family you were only dating one of them,he had originally thought Wonwoo would be the one saying he was the boyfriend. Everyone always seemed to be drawn to Wonwoo, he was charming and people loved him. Wonwoo and you both agreed that it should be Mingyu though for some reason.

“I know my mom is gonna love you. I just don’t like the idea of not telling her about Wonwoo, but she wouldn’t understand,” you reached down and laced your fingers with Mingyu’s hand that was under the water.

“Maybe after we have been together for a while, we can tell her about Wonwoo,” he said, knowing eventually you would need to tell your family about Wonwoo. Neither of you wanted to hide Wonwoo. He wasn’t a dirty little secret or anything like that. You love him just as much as you love Mingyu.

“Yeah I like that idea,” you said with a smile.

You sat in the warm bath for probably half an hour, talking about little things. When you got out you were barely awake. Mingyu helped dry you off then he took your handed leading you to bed, curled up under the covers soon you both quickly fell asleep.

When your mother met Mingyu she couldn’t help but be charmed by the man with curly hair and golden skin. When she first arrived, Mingyu was so nervous he didn’t even know what to say. It didn’t take long before you and your mother were laughing at one of his stories from his childhood. Your mother seemed to love Mingyu and when you walked her out to her car she kissed Mingyu on the cheek and told him to take care of her daughter.

You sat in the kitchen waiting for Wonwoo to come home. His business trip was over and he was supposed to be walking through that door at any moment. You missed him dearly and couldn’t wait for him to come home. Mingyu was off taking a shower, he had asked you to join him, but you told him you didn’t want to be in the shower when Wonwoo walked through the door.

It was pretty early in the morning and you let out a yawn. You walked over to the coffee pot and started to make some coffee for you and the boys. As you turned the coffee pot on you heard the front door open. Turning around you found Wonwoo walking in, limping. Your eyes went wide and suddenly you panicked,rushing over to Wonwoo who seemed to be moving slower than normal. He dropped his duffle bag and wrapped his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. Leaning down he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“Wonwoo are you alright?” You asked, worried about him.

“Yeah babygirl I’m fine. I’m just a little sore, I definitely overworked myself when I was working out last night at the hotel with Joshua.”

“You had me really worried for a moment,” you sighed.

“I’m fine you don’t have to worry about me,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “How did Mingyu meeting your mother go?”

“It went great, my mom loved him,” you couldn’t help but smile thinking about how great things went with your mom. “Maybe after we’ve been together a while longer we can introduce you to her as well.”

Leaning up once again you pressed your lips to his. Wrapping your arms around him, you deepen the kiss. You had missed Wonwoo so much. You grabbed his hand and led him off to your that has now become the shared bedroom for all of you.

You walked him over to your bed and reached down for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off. Wonwoo had truly missed you, but he didn’t expect this greeting when he arrived home. He reached to pull off his own shirt and groaned at the soreness.

“Wonwoo, are you okay?” You asked worried about how hurt he actually was.

“Yeah baby, I’m fine,” he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way and worked on getting his shoes off. “Me and Joshua did a boxing match at the hotel gym I forgot that Shua is stronger than he looks.”

You took this as your chance to remove your pale blue pajama bottoms. He pushed his sweat pants down and boxers and he stood there naked in front of you. Taking his glasses off, he sits them on the dresser. You reached up and softly connected your lips to his for a gentle kiss. You missed him so much, you hated when you had to spend time apart.

Lancing your fingers with his you led him towards the bed. Wonwoo laid down on your unmade bed and you reached over and pumped his hardened length a few times. You had desperately missed the feeling of his skin. Slowly you crawled into the bed, and lined his erection up with your entrance. There is no time for foreplay. You’ve missed him too much. After the first few thrusts, you’ll adjust to his size. You slowly sank down on his length.

You gasped as you bottomed out on his length and Wonwoo let out a breathy moan. He had missed you so much and he loved you so much he couldn’t get enough of you. Slowly you moved yourself against him.

Mingyu walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you on top of Wonwoo. Both Wonwoo and you looked over at Mingyu and gave him a small smile. You continued to ride Wonwoo as Mingyu acted like nothing was going on and worked on grabbing some boxers out of the dresser. It didn’t take long before Wonwoo and you both hit your highs. Wonwoo paints your walls white as he grips your hips.

Crawling off him, you laid down next to him. Mingyu leaned against the wall and smiled at the two of you who were both trying to catch your breath. Mingyu walks into the bathroom and comes back holding a washcloth. Tapping your thigh he signals for you to open your legs. Ever so gently he cleans up his best friend's release that is already dropping out of you.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo sighs.

“Wonwoo what’s up with the bruise?” Mingyu asked, noticing Wonwoo’s bruised skin.

“Me and Shau did a practice boxing match at the hotel gym last night.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, “she’s the best kind of medicine.” He walked over and crawled into bed next to you and curled up next to you.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“You know, when I pictured going on a double date with you and your future boyfriend I never imagined it would be with my dorky gamer friend,” Jeonghan teases sitting across from the table. Wonwoo lets out a laugh as his hand rest on your thighs.

“Hannie,” his girlfriend says, slapping his arm.

“Where is your guy’s other boyfriend?” It’s not unusual for Jeonghan to refer to Mingyu as both of your boyfriends. Wonwoo never corrects anyone. Neither does Mingyu when people call Wonwoo his. That might be because they're in a relationship together as much as they are with you. They’ve never done anything really romantic except cuddle and hold hands from what you know. But even if they had it wouldn’t change anything. You would fully embrace it if they wanted to be intimate together.

“He’s in Japan for a video shoot,” Wonwoo says.

“What have you two been up to?” You're attempting to change the subject of your relationship.

“So we asked you guys if you wanted to meet up because I’m moving,” Jeonghan’s girlfriend statement catches you off guard.

“Are you moving too Jeonghan?”

“No, she is moving to England.”

The table is suddenly silent as you process what you’re being told. They’ve been together for a really long time. It’s insane that now they would do long distance.

“Are you going to do long distance?” Wonwoo asked exactly what you were thinking.

“No, we actually broke up two weeks ago. I’m going to stay with Jeonghan for another week before I move.”

Looking up at your best friend you can see the sadness in his eyes. He’s no longer smiling as he stares at the table.

“Hannie, are you okay?” You wish you didn’t find out right now. You wish he would have told you sooner so you could be there for him.

“I’ll be okay.”

The whole dinner felt like a blur. You all made small talk and you couldn’t help but focus on Jeonghan who seemed like he was trying to be happy.

Standing in the parking lot you say goodbye to Lana before she walks off to Jeonghan’s car. Wonwoo gives you a kiss before he says he’ll meet you in the car. He knows you need a moment with your best friend.

Jeonghan puts his hands in his pocket and sighs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t told anyone. I wasn’t really sure how to process this. Hell, I was just getting ready to buy her a ring.”

Stepping forward you pull him into a hug. He’s stiff for a moment before he relaxes resting his cheek on top of your head. “I’ll be okay. Once she moves I’ll be able to fully process this.”

“If you need anything you can call me, any time of the day or night.”

He pulls away from you and smiles. “I’ll be okay. How about once she’s gone we can get dinner and ice cream.”

“Ice cream to heal your heart?”

“Yes, to heal my heart.”

“Please call me,” you step back.

“I will. Now go spend time with your gamer boyfriend. Something tells me he’s looking forward to one on one time.”

Walking over to Wonwoo’s car you can’t help but feel sad for your best friend. Sliding into the passenger seat, Wonwoo watches you.

“I had no clue they broke up. I had been pushing him to take the next step with her.”

“I know he’s sad, but Jeonghan is a good guy and he’ll find the perfect person for him.” He rests his large hand on your thigh before giving it a squeeze. “How about we go back to our place and cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?”

Walking into the house Wonwoo and you head off to the master bedroom. You both decided to get dressed for bed. Wonwoo puts on a pair of lounge pants that sit low on his hips and you opt to only wear a baggy shirt and a pair of panties.

Curled up on the couch you just want to be close to Wonwoo. His arm is wrapped around you. His large hand rests on your soft stomach.

You can barely focus on the movie. You’re only focused on his hand that has started gently kneading the flesh on your stomach.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Thank you for loving me.”

“You were so incredibly easy to fall in love with.”

Gently he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“You were the missing piece in both me and Mingyu’s life.”

There is a long moment of silence. “You two truly made me so comfortable in my own skin again.”

“Baby you’re beautiful inside and out.” His hand that is resting on your stomach gently squeezes your flesh.

“I feel so much more confident in myself.” This didn’t happen overnight and being with the boys didn’t suddenly give you confidence. It took baby steps to get here but you finally feel so comfortable and happy in your own skin. For the first time in your life, you truly feel sexy.

You also finally feel happy and there isn’t a sadness lingering over you. That’s because of a healthy and loving relationship and the help of therapy along the way.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You, and the boys glided through the crowded party. Your hand was holding Mingyu’s strong hand tightly. He led you away from the party to his old room at Seungcheol’s house. At one point in time both your boys lived with Seungcheol here. Wonwoo followed right behind. You snuck off upstairs away from the crowd as everyone was ringing in the new year. The moment the door was opened he pressed you against the wall and moved his lips down your neck. Wonwoo slowly walked in behind you. Mingyu seemed to be way more eager than Wonwoo was. Wonwoo walked over and sat down on the bed and watched as Mingyu’s hungry lips moved down the base of your neck as his hands worked on getting your dress off. Mingyu groaned at the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. He removed your dress leaving you only in undies and your black high heels, your soft body on full display. He stepped away and worked on getting his own clothes off.

You looked over Mingyu’s shoulder to find Wonwoo sitting on the bed watching with a smile on his face. He seemed amused by what was playing out in front of him. Wonwoo tended to watch and direct you both from the sidelines before taking his turn or joining in.

You reached down and removed your heels and undies as Mingyu stripped off the rest of his clothing. The second he was naked he gave himself a few strokes, he connected his lips to yours and dipped his fingers into your core to give you some foreplay as his lips moved against yours in a hungry kiss. You moaned into the kiss at the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub. You pulled your lips away from his and moaned his name loudly. He took this as his cue and lifted your soft body up like you weighed nothing. He thrust into you in one quick motion. Your hands gripped his back as he pressed you against the wall as he slid into you over and over again. The angle he was hit with each thrust had you seeing stars.

You couldn’t help but moan with every thrust. You held on to him tightly as he worked at a quick pace. Looking over at the bed you found Wonwoo biting his bottom lip as he palmed himself through his dress pants.

Mingyu’s lips moved to the side of your neck where he left a trail of wet kisses. He groaned against your skin as he was getting close to his high. It only took two more thrust before he pushed you over the edge. You rode out your high as he thrust a few more times before finishing inside you.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered as Mingyu sat you back down on your feet. Pushing your legs together you feel his cum start to slowly drip out if you. He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He could tell by your tone what you wanted. With your legs slightly wobbly you walked over to Wonwoo who was standing next to the bed removing his dress shirt. You stood in front of him for a second before you leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

Mingyu walked over and sat down on the chair by the window still coming down from his own high. Despite how much he wanted to get in on the action, he wanted to give you and Wonwoo some time to yourselves. There were times that you would have sex all together, but they also liked to give each other their alone time with you.

You reached between Wonwoo and you and undid his belt and buttons on his pants. He was the only one in the room still wearing clothes. It didn’t take long before Wonwoo’s clothes were on the floor and he moved to the bed.

Your soft body was sitting on his hips as he lay underneath you. Your hands rested on his chest and you moved your body slowly up and down his length. Mingyu sat silently on the chair for a little while, before he got up and moved over to the bed. He leaned over and started placing wet kisses across your shoulder as you rode Wonwoo like your life depended on it. You tilted your head back and moaned.

“Gyu play with her clit,” Wonwoo was good at giving Mingyu directions in bed. Mingyu will always fully listen to whatever his best friend asks him to do.

Mingyu pressed himself against you rubbing his already hardening length against your ass as his hand dipped between your folds. Rubbing your clit as Wonwoo raises his hips to meet you. Mingyu can’t take his lips off the side of your neck.

“Fuck-“ you brain feels like it’s filled with static. With zero coherent thoughts.

“I think we need a new position. Princess is short circuiting,” Wonwoo teases below you.

“What position do you want?” Mingyu asked, still toying with your sensitive clit.

“We don’t have lube so I don’t think she can take me in her ass right now without it and she definitely can’t take you.” He’s not wrong, both of your boyfriends are big, but Mingyu is absolutely huge. Wonwoo dick is the perfect size for you, and sometimes it takes a little extra work to make it comfortable for you to be able to take Mingyu. When it comes to anal, most the time Wonwoo is the only one allowed to fuck your ass. You’ve taken Mingyu a few times but it stresses him out and you're definitely in pain the next day. Even though the man is obsessed with your ass. He knows when it comes to anal that Wonwoo is the best option.

“Baby how do you feel about sucking off Mingyu while I take you from behind?”

“Please.”

Wonwoo helps you get on your hands and knees. His hands massage the flesh of your ass as he runs his length through your folds.

Taking Mingyu large cock in your hand you start working your hand up and down his length.

“Baby spit on it,” Wonwoo moans.

Opening your mouth you spit onto his length just like Wonwoo asked.

Wonwoo pushes into your quickly earning a moan. One hand rests on Mingyu thigh helping to support yourself while you lean down to take him hard cock in your mouth. With his size you can’t fully take him but he’s okay with that. His hand is holding your hair back from your face as you bob your head, taking him past your gag reflex. Wonwoo’s hands are gripping your hips as he snaps his hips into yours over and over again.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Wonwoo groans.

“Baby-” Mingyu whimpers.

You aren’t sure how long you can last like this. Wonwoo’s pace is fast and he’s brushing just the right spot that has you seeing stars. Pulling off Mingyu’s dick, you whimper, looking back at Wonwoo who seems completely lost in the moment.

“You’re doing so good baby, taking care of me and Gyu.”

Leaning back down, you take Mingyu’s cock in your mouth again. He groans, leaning his head back. His body feels tense under your touch. His whimpers let you know he’s close.

“Gyu if you’re going to come in her mouth, ask princess for permission.” Wonwoo sometime like to be in charge in the bedroom and you and your other boyfriend won’t ever complain.

“Baby where can I finish?” Mingyu practically whines.

Popping off him, some saliva is attached from his cock to your mouth. “In my mouth.”

“I’m close.” He whines.

Leaning back down you start sucking him off like your life depends on it. Wonwoo makes you moan when he reaches in between your legs and starts playing with your sensitive clit.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Moaning around Mingyu length he fills your mouth with his cum. Pulling off of him with a pop, you fall forward resting your head on his thigh as Wonwoo pace gets quicker.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Fuck-” Wonwoo’s hips still as his finds his own release. Filling you to the brim with milky white release.

Wonwoo slowly removes himself from you. He crawls off the bed as Mingyu sets you up in his lap. He runs his fingers through your hair as he presses his lips to yours for a gentle kiss. He could care less that he can taste himself on your lips.

Both the boys have left you fucked out and exhausted.

“I love you both,” you smiled, feeling dazed in pure bliss. Wonwoo crawled back onto the bed lying down next to you and Mingyu.

“We love you too, babygirl,” Mingyu leaned down and kissed your cheek.

Wonwoo silently laid there with a huge smile on his face.

“I think we wore Wonwoo out,” Mingyu jokes.

He closed his eyes and nodded his head with a huge smile on his face.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your first anniversary was a major milestone you were looking forward to. Initially,you wanted to plan something for the boys. Before you could even think of anything, Wonwoo informed you to just let them plan something.

Your night started at a romantic dinner at a fancy sushi place you have always wanted to try. Mingyu even picked out a dress and lingerie he wanted you to wear. When you walked out of the bedroom in the skin tight dress Mingyu picked out, you weren’t even sure you would leave the house at the way both the boys were eye fucking you. Hell if they wanted to spend the whole night having sex you wouldn’t complain.

The dinner was absolutely perfect and when you got home they took their time undressing you before worshiping every ounce of your body.

Laying on top of Mingyu, your pussy rubs against his hardened length. His fingers are tangled in your hair as he kisses you. Wonwoo is behind you watching as he’s getting the stuff he needs to prep you to take him in your ass.

A cold dollop of lube lands on your tight ring of muscle. Pulling your lips away from Mingyu you look over you shoulder to find Wonwoo smirking at you as his thumb applies some pressure to your asshole.

“Oh-” you moan.

“Does princess want to take both of us at the same time tonight?” His thumb fully slips into your ass.

“Please-” this is a rare treat taking them both at the same time. You’ve done it a handful of times and you want to do it more, it just takes more prep than normal.

“Gyu can you put it in and just let her cockwarm you while I finger her? She needs extra prep tonight.” Wonwoo isn’t necessarily bossy in the bedroom, and doesn’t try to dom either of you. But he’s really good at being in charge and giving you both directions.

“Baby can you slowly take me in?” Mingyu asked.

Silently you lift your hips. Mingyu helps, holding his length at your entrance. Ever so slowly you slide down his huge length. You already feel full, and you don’t have anything in your ass yet.

Wonwoo’s finger slides into your ass slowly. “Mingyu keep her relaxed. Kiss her, do whatever you need to do to make sure our princess is relaxed.” This isn’t the norm in the bedroom. When you do take both of them at the same time it takes some patience from everyone.

Tangling his fingers in your hair he pulls your lips down to his. The kiss is sloppy, filled with lots of tongue. Your brain feels scrambled trying to focus on the second finger Wonwoo has in your ass, and the feeling of Mingyu snug inside you.

“You’re such a good girl,” Wonwoo’s large hand massages your fleshy butt cheek. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes.” You pull away from Mingyu mouth.

Wonwoo grabs the bottle of lube and takes his time coating his erection. Mingyu’s lips are on your breast, helping distract you.

The initial feeling of Wonwoo pushing into your ass is always a little uncomfortable. The stretching feeling takes some time to get used to. A soft whimper passes your lips, capturing Mingyu’s attention. He takes your face with both hands. His thumb drags across your bottom lip, earning a smile.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, almost as if you’re alone in the room.

“It feels intense.”

Wonwoo bottoms out and stills, giving you time to adjust. “Baby do you need me to stop?” Wonwoo snaps you out of the little haze you were in.

“No, I just need a moment.”

His hand rubs up and down the small of your back helping you relax. “You’re so good at this baby. You’re absolutely perfect.”

“You’re just saying that because I like to let you both double team me.” You can’t help but tease.

Mingyu smiles instantly at your words. “That’s just a bonus baby.”

“You both can move. Just please go slow.”

Mingyu stays completely still, letting Wonwoo get in a few shallow thrust. Wonwoo’s large hands grip your sides, helping steady himself.

“Gyu move-“ You whine.

Mingyu thrust up into you the best he can from below you. You try to help, but Wonwoo is holding you in place. The feeling of both them filling you up fully isn’t something you can fully comprehend.

Your brain feels like mush and you can’t think of anything other to say than moans and whine a mix of their names, and curse words.

Wonwoo bends over, completely plastered against your back. His lips are your shoulder sucking marks into your skin. One of his hands reaches around you and starts rubbing quick circles against your clit.

You’ve been teetering on the edge for what feels like hours. Every muscle in your body feels tense. There is a pressure building inside you that you can’t quite explain.

The moment your orgasm hits you, it feels like an explosion. You cry out as all the tension releases and your body releases a liquid all over Mingyu below you. This is a first for all of you.

Your arms give out and you collapse on Mingyu. He moans your name before he fills you with milky white cum. Wonwoo hasn’t stopped thrusting into you. He’s changed his position slightly. He’s still thrusting into you over and over again, pushing you against Mingyu who is still snug inside you. His softening cock is plugging up his cum from leaking out.

Wonwoo gives you three firm thrusts before filling your ass with his own release.

Pulling out slowly he rolls onto the bed next to you and Mingyu. Mingyu has done nothing to try and remove himself from you. His hand brushes your hair away from your face.

No one says anything for a long moment. Mingyu is the first to speak. “Did you squirt on me?” Your body burns with embarrassment suddenly.

“She did, it turns out taking both of us and playing with her clit will make her.” Wonwoo says.

“That’s so embarrassing.” You sigh.

“That was the exact opposite of embarrassing. That was fucking hot.” Mingyu smiles.

“We’re gonna need to clean the sheets before we go to bed.” Wonwoo says. Of course your neat freak boyfriend is thinking about changing the cheats after he’s made you squirt on Mingyu.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sitting on the floor in the bathroom you mind raced. Your emotions were all over the place and your brain fought with the feeling of sadness, happiness and guilt. The dinging on your phone let you know that five minutes had passed letting you know that it was time.

Reaching up on the counter you looked at the two pink stripes on the stick that let you know that you were indeed pregnant. Most women would be over the moon to find out they were pregnant, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You had never discussed having children with Wonwoo and Mingyu and you honestly had no clue who the father was. You were on birth control and neither of the boys used condoms anymore.

The sound of knocking on the bathroom door caught your attention. Before you could even dispose of the pregnancy test Wonwoo walked into the bathroom. His mouth opened to say something but immediately shut as he looked at the pregnancy test that was in your hands.

“Princess are you okay?” He asked, sitting down on the floor next to you.

Quietly you shook your head and looked into his warm eyes. You wonder if the baby is his if they’ll get his beautiful lips or warm eyes.

“What does it say?” He rested his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m pregnant,” your voice shook as admitted it out loud for the first time.

“Why are you sad about that?”

You took a deep breath wondering what exactly you should say, “we never talked about having children and I don’t know which one of you is the father.”

A look of confusion crossed his face as he reached for your soft body. Without a second thought he pulled you into his lap. You sat on his lap and rested your head on his strong chest. A sigh pasted your lips as your eyes brimmed with tears. His hand rubbed your side and his lips pressed to the top of your head. He took a long moment just holding you. He wanted to comfort you, but he knew you were mentally going through a lot processing the fact that you knew you were pregnant.

“It doesn’t matter who the father is. We both love you and no matter what, and we’ll raise this child together with you,” he murmured as his hand continued to rub your side. “If the baby is mine I’ll love it with all my heart, and if it’s Mingyu I’m still going to love it the same way. No matter who the father is, Mingyu and I will be that baby’s dads together.”

Glancing up at him you found him smiling. He seemed to be happy about the fact that you were pregnant. A small sense of relief started to wash over you at the fact that he wasn’t worried about the fact you didn’t know who the father was.

Sniffling back tears, you asked, “do you think Mingyu is going to be okay with me being pregnant?”

Wonwoo and Mingyu were in very different places in their lives mentally. Wonwoo was pretty well adapted to what he wanted in life, and Mingyu was still trying to figure out what he fully wanted with his life. His dream of pursuing directing was something that always stopped him from settling down before you.

“Mingyu’s always longed for a family in the city, and the sense of having a home here, and starting a family with you is something that he needs.”

A warm feeling in your chest let you know that everything was going to be alright. That things between you and the two boys weren’t exactly normal in the eyes of society, but what you had was perfect to them.

“Mingyu should be home from working out anytime, do you want to tell him?” Wonwoo asked.

You gently nodded your head and crawled out his lap. He stood up and reached his hand out to help you stand up. The moment you were standing he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. Pulling his lips away from yours he wrapped his arms around your curvy torso and hugged you. His hand rubbed your back and he whispered, “there is no other woman I would rather have a child with, and there is no other person I would rather share being a father with than my best friend.”

Pulling away you looked up at him and couldn’t help smiling. The sound of the bedroom door opening caught your attention. Wonwoo reached down and grabbed the pregnancy test and handed it to you and smiled.

You walked out of the bathroom to find a shirtless Mingyu looking through his drawer in one of the dressers. He turned around and his eyes immediately went to you and noticed your eyes were puffy in the aftermath of your tears.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Mingyu asked.

Without a word you held out the pregnancy test. Silently he stepped forward and grabbed the pregnancy test, his wide eyes stayed locked on the pregnancy test. You couldn’t help but be worried about the look on Mingyu’s face. His dark eyes were wild for a long moment before he looked up at you and instantly his expression softened.

Wonwoo stood next to you holding your hand, he knew that all of this was scary for you.

“You’re pregnant?” Mingyu asked, finally breaking the silence that had grown so loud between all of you.

Slowly you nodded not sure what to say.

“I’m assuming we don’t know who the dad is?” He asked not actually caring who the father was.

Shaking your head, you tried not to cry. “The way I see it, it doesn’t matter who the father is. We’re both fathers to this baby,” Mingyu reached out resting his hand on your stomach. His response warmed your heart and you smiled.

“Told you he would be happy,” Wonwoo leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I’m finally going to have a little family of my own,” he walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your soft torso pulling you into a tight hug. “I love you so much babygirl.”

Stepping back you looked over at Wonwoo who had a really big smile on his face. Both boys seemed genuinely happy that they were going to have a child. You had gone from feeling sad and guilty to suddenly overjoyed that you were going to be starting a family with the two boys who you loved and adored.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your hand rested on your growing stomach. As you sat on the large couch that was in the middle of your living room. You leaned against Wonwoo while your feet were resting in Mingyu’s lap. Strong hands massage your feet as your eyes are held closed enjoying the closeness with the boys.

Without saying a word you reached for the pillow on the floor and laid it down in Wonwoo’s lap. He couldn’t help but smile as you moved to lay your head down in his lap while Mingyu massaged your feet.

From the moment they discovered you were pregnant both the boys had gone out of their way to make sure you were treated like a princess. Both them were over the moon that you were expecting a child.

Recently your hormones have been all over the place. You went from wanting to cry to wanting to tear the boy’s clothing off with your teeth.

“Baby, are you tired?” Wonwoo asked as he rubbed your arm gently.

“I’m exhausted every moment of my life right now,” you let out a soft laugh. “Carrying this baby takes all my energy.”

Reached up, Wonwoo gently rested his hand on your round stomach. It still amazes him that either Mingyu or him had created a life with you. He couldn’t wait to see if the baby was going to look like you or either him or his best friend.

“You look so beautiful carrying our baby.”

“You two are lucky you’re charming and good looking because this baby takes all my energy,” you teased.

“We’re sorry the baby is making you tired,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

Leaning over Mingyu placed a sweet kiss on your knee.

“I’m supposed to be cooking dinner for your birthday Mingyu.”

Wonwoo looked down at you shaking his head smiling, “It’s cute you think that you’re cooking dinner.”

In the last two months as you crossed over from your second trimester to your third. The boys were letting you do less and less. You had originally planned to cook the boys an amazing dinner for Mingyu’s birthday but both the boys kept shutting you down.

“If I don’t cook, who is going to cook?”

“We are more than capable of cooking dinner for us,” Mingyu gently squeezed your foot. You looked at him and tried not to laugh at his comment. “Don’t be rude,” he gently squeezed your foot one last time.

“So Princess, have you figured out if you want to find out if we’re having a boy or a girl?” Wonwoo asked, attempting to change the subject.

You were still trying to decide if you wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl. Since finding out you were pregnant you had gone back and forth on if you wanted to find out.

“I mean I still don’t know. Maybe the gender can be a surprise along with figuring out who the dad is,” you tried to joke about the situation that still made you feel guilty.

Wonwoo leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. His touch was gentle as if he was trying to calm you.

“We both have told you over and over it doesn’t matter who the father is. This is both of our baby,” Wonwoo's voice was warm and calming.

“He’s right,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

“I know I just feel…” you paused trying to gather your words. You slowly sat up and took your feet off of Mingyu’s lap and sat in between both the boys. “It’s just an odd feeling. I feel like I’m breaking one of your hearts.”

“Hey,” Mingyu reaches over and rested his hand on your cheek and gently twisting your head so you’re looking at him. “No one is upset here or hurt. You mean the world to both of us and we both love you and the baby equally. It doesn’t matter who the biological father is. We don’t even have to ever find out if you don’t want to.”

Your eyes were locked on his kind dark colored eyes. Slowly you blinked for a moment before you leaned forward for a sweet kiss.

“I don’t think I want to find out,” you whispered, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

“Then we don’t find out,” Wonwoo answered.

“If you want, maybe after this one grows up a little bit we can try to have another one. Say this little you’re carrying now is mine, we have to focus on making the next baby Mingyu’s if they makes you happy.”

“Does that mean one of you boys would have to wear a condom every time?”

“Yeah and we would be fine with that,” Mingyu chimes in.

“Thank you boys.”

You put your feet up on the coffee table and reached over and took both of their hands. You knew nothing about their lives were normal but wouldn’t change your life for the world. You would never know how you ended up lucky enough to have two wonderful men in your life. Or how you were lucky enough to start a family with them.

~&~

Standing in the living room you watched as Mingyu held your daughter. He gently swayed side to side singing softly to the little girl who stole his heart. It was very clear early on into her life that Wonwoo was the father to your little girl. She looked so much like him it was hard to deny.

You and Wonwoo had just returned from the store and hadn’t expected to find Mingyu dancing with his daughter. You couldn’t help the smile that is plastered on your face as you watch them.

“Is that how Mingyu calms her down?”you asked looking up at Wonwoo.

“When I dance she doesn’t giggle like that,” Wonwoo acted as if he was offended even though he wasn’t. Wonwoo absolutely adores how much his daughter loves Mingyu. He couldn’t be happier that he’s getting to experience fatherhood with his best friend.

“Look mommy and daddy are home,” Mingyu says walking over towards you.

“Did she behave?” You asked as you walked closer to Mingyu and your daughter.

“This little girl was a complete angel while you were away,” he winked before he pressed his lips to the top of his daughter's head.

Your daughter says, “dada,” clinging to her other father. Mingyu lights up every time his daughter calls him that.

In all the time you had been with Mingyu and Wonwoo things between the three of you just kept getting better. The addition of your daughter seemed to bring all of you closer than you had ever been before and none of you thought that was possible.

Wonwoo heads off to the kitchen to put some of the groceries away. You stood in the living room staring at Mingyu for a moment before he handed you your daughter. You’ll never get over how completely perfect your little girl is. Holding your daughter close, you press your lips to the top of her head. Swaying to the beat of the music you hummed along to the song. It’s not long before your little girl is sound asleep in your arms.

“I should probably put her down for a nap,” you say quietly.

Walking off to her nursery you lays her down in her crib and press your lips to her forehead before slowly leaving her room.

Walking back into the living room you find Wonwoo and Mingyu sitting down on the couch. You smile as you sit down between them.

“I don’t want to brag but I personally think we made the perfect baby,” you state proudly.

Mingyu shrugs and lets out a chuckle, “I mean you aren’t wrong. I think our next one will be just as perfect.” It still stings a little that Mingyu is gonna to have to wait a little while to have a child that is biologically his.

You both look at Wonwoo who is smiling. He lets out a soft laugh of his own before saying, “I’m aware our daughter is beautiful. She looks like her mother. She was bound to be stunning.”

Biting your bottom lip you hold back a smile as blush crept across your cheeks. You’ll never get over the fact that both boys are so attracted to you, and how much you love your life with them.

“I love you both,” you beams.

“And we love you,” Mingyu says as he leans over and presses his lips to your shoulder.

It’s moments like this that make you feel like your life is perfect, and you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

FOUR YEARS LATER -

Jeonghan’s birthday party is always an event. His house is filled with friends celebrating. Things have changed since you’ve had kids. House parties have now become family friendly events.

Jeonghan’s girlfriend of two years Honey looks like she has a serious case of baby fever as she holds your son. At only six months old he’s just as charming as Mingyu.

Mingyu is with Wonwoo in the kitchen helping your daughter get something to eat.

“My godson just looks like a mini version of Mingyu,”

Jeonghan laughs.

“I sure made some cute kids.”

“I would usually joke being like, are you sure you know who the dads are, but your daughter is the perfect mix of you and Wonwoo. And that little one is just a mini Gyu.” He’s not wrong, your daughter definitely looks like both you and Wonwoo and you aren’t sure if you just didn’t clone Mingyu at this point. There was absolutely no denying he’s the father of your son.

“So does Honey want kids?”

“About that-“ Jeonghan watches his girlfriend with a smile on his face. “We think she might be pregnant.”

“Does that mean I finally get to be a godmother?”

He rolls his eyes, “yes you get to be a godmother.”

“Mommy,” your daughter screams running towards you holding an ice cream bar.

Wonwoo is hot on her trail. He picks her up before she can launch herself into your arms. “Dada gave me ice cream,” she looks over her shoulder at Mingyu who is smiling walking towards you.

“I said wait for dinner but Mingyu out voted me.” Wonwoo says. Mingyu is an absolute softie when it comes to his daughter. She has him wrapped around her tiny little finger.

“Daddy said no.” Your daughter pouts.

“Gyu,” you can’t help but laugh.

“It's Hannie’s birthday. I said since it’s her godfather's birthday she could have a treat.”

“I say let the kid have ice cream,” Jeonghan chimes in.

“Fine,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

There is something special about seeing the boys be amazing fathers. They love their kids so much, they also love you just as much.

Wonwoo leans in, pressing lips to his daughter's forehead. She pulls back giggling before pressing her lips to her father’s nose. Holding her arms out she reaches for her other father. Mingyu wasted no time taking her from his arms. Mingyu walks her back towards the kitchen to get a napkin.

Wonwoo walks closer to you. He smiles before pressing his lips to your.

“So is there a third one coming at any point? Are we going to play another guessing game of ‘guess who the father is’?” Jeonghan always likes to tease you about the fact you weren’t sure when you were pregnant with your daughter about who the father was.

“Right now we’re good with two? But who knows maybe one day me and Mingyu will play a game called, Who-Can-Knock-Up-Our-Wife-First.” Wonwoo says, earning a laugh from Jeonghan.

“We’re good with two right now.” You respond.

Life has a strange way of working out. Who would have known taking that taking that new job all those years and go to live near Jeonghan would lead you to this perfect life you’re now living.

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