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gotham-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Not Here

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

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

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

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

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

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was... was that...?

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

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

How long ago did this take place?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

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

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

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

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

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

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

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

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

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

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

Oh no.

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

How old are you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

... Should he?

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

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

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Music.

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

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

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

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

He wish he was there with you.

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

He had missed everything.

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

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When was the last time you touched these?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your name was engraved on it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

... Oh god.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I hope I see one of them."

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

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

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

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

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

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

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

...

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

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

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

"About a week ago, why?"

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

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

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

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

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

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

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

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

"No... why?"

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

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

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

"When was the last time you saw them?"

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

"Jason."

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

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

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

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

"I haven't seen them."

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

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

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

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

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

"... What."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to find you. Now.

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

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

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

Wait... was that your voice?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

... She wasn't sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All because of you.

---------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–––––

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

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

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

#platonic yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #honestly this is probably the longest post i've ever made #not series

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princesssmars · 4 months ago

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teasing abby not on purpose but kind of on purpose… nsfw.

you knew as soon as your sink started acting weird you were gonna be screwed. it was only a matter of time until the stupid thing broke, and then you’d have to call your annoying ass landlord to call an even more annoying maintenance company to come fix it.

which you knew they never would. for some reason they loved to schedule people to come fix things in the middle of the day when you had to go to work, then blaming you for being five minutes late like you didn’t cause three traffic accidents just to get over there.

but now, as your broken sink is spouting water like a fire hydrant and you’re soaked from head to toe, you find yourself with only two choices. and you choose the hotter one.

you hadn't been seeing abby for long, only officially dating for around a few weeks at this point. but she was sweet, strong, and exceptionally good with her hands. she'd offered to help build a mounted shelf you were looking at on amazon last week, so you figured she had to have at least some experience with fixing things, right?

you only start to realize the mental jump you took when she's laughing at you over the phone, telling you she doesn't have much plumbing experience but she'll do what she can. really, its no problem, she's right down the street.

until you heard a knock at your door less than four minutes later while you were trying to take every towel you had to put on the floor, hoping to avoid an altercation with your neighbor below you for flooding her and her four secret cats.

so that's the only reason you open the door and give abby a view of you with a soaked-through tank top and no bra. truly, the only reason.

it's not like anyone can blame you when you get her reaction. she's notoriously not subtle at anything, and its intensity is dialed up to a twenty-five as she stared at the wet fabric barely hiding your nipples, only brought out of it when you snap your fingers and loudly clear your throat to bring her attention to how shes supposed to be helping you with your problem.

she was really selling herself short, setting herself in front of the sink and fixing whatever the problem was in less than ten minutes. it’s funny how her eyes keep darting to you when she reaches for some tools, wondering why on earth you hadn’t changed yet because there was no way you were going to suffer in a tiny cold shirt just to rile her up, right?

wrong. we’re you discreetly shivering when she would turn away and start doing her thing again? yes. was it worth it just to see the way her arms flexed as she tightened and pulled and how the muscles in her back showed through her ridiculously tight top…

once she finishes she helps you with cleaning up the mess, mopping up any excess water and removing any towels that have been soaked through, piling them in your washer and starting the cycle. when she comes back to your room she feels like her heart is going to leap out of her chest because you’re still wearing the damn shirt.

“seriously?�� she raises her brow, crossing her arms and fighting off the urge to smirk when she notices how your eyes track them.

“what? i like this shirt, has a nice neckline.”

you’re smiling, and then she’s smiling, and then she’s crossing the room in a second and pushing you down on the bed-

but it’s obvious that she agreed with you - it was a cute shirt. which is why she only pushes the neckline down to suck and bite at your chest until you’re nearly crying and begging for her instead of taking the whole thing off.

“what’s the matter? you were teasing me so much, can’t i return the favor?” her words are mumbled as she bites into the side of your breast, laugh reverberating in her chest at your gasp and the jerk of your leg held under her hand.

but luckily for you abby was sweet and way too pent up, so it wasn’t long before she was shoving her hand into your pants and stuffing her fingers inside you, face still planted in your boobs as she brought you to a strong orgasm. and then another. and then another.

yeah. you were glad you didn’t call your landlord.

horny work daydreams are not a game

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby #tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson smut #tlou x reader

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s-awturn · 1 month ago

Text

Other Plans || F1 Grid

cw: babies being cute, still a little anguish, overcoming, deliverance (hehehehe) and I don't know what else to say. Spanish, French, and some poorly translated Dutch, blame Google.

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1,

a/n: I rarely get requests for part 2, so don't judge me if I'm excited here. I loved writing the first part and I hope to make the second part just as good.

f i r s t p a r t

LEWIS HAMILTON.

You never regretted leaving.

As you might have guessed, Lewis never called or cared and even though you knew he wouldn't call, it didn't hurt any less. You had hopes that he would care, that he would come around, but he never took a step towards you and you wouldn't make the first move. You and the baby — a healthy, restless girl —didn’t need him.

The first few months were not easy, by God, dealing with all the changes of pregnancy, the demands of work, as well as cleaning and organizing your home was the hardest thing in the world.

But it was all worth it when you held your little girl in your arms for the first time. Bree was beautiful and had powerful lungs, because she cried so loudly when you laughed with happiness at having her. Not even the fact that she had the same eyes as Lewis shook his happiness. She was yours, and nothing in the world would change that.

You, your mother and Bree were walking down one of the streets of London looking for Christmas decorations, Bree was on your lap, looking at everything curiously, you hadn't taken her to London yet, both because you wanted her to get used to the climate and the quiet life in Naples and because of fear, you still didn't feel ready to face Lewis, because you knew he was always in England, mainly in the capital.

“Mamma, look!” she pointed to the store across the street, with the Christmas decorations you were looking for. You gave a proud smile and kissed her cheek.

“Good job, little bee, let’s go get our colorful balls from Santa Claus” you crossed the street and due to carelessness, you ended up tripping over someone. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t y-...” you started to say, however your voice trailed off as you recognized fucking Lewis Hamilton.

“Y/N?” His eyes, identical to Bree’s, widened as he recognized you and the baby in your arms. You straightened up, hugging Bree against you.

“Lewis, how are you?” you said cordially, but there was no sympathy in your voice.

“Mhmm, Well, I'm fine... And you?”

“Wonderfully,” you remained impassive. “Well, Merry Christmas, Lewis,” you said, walking past him until your name was called by the pilot.

“I thought you would give me news...” he hesitated for a few seconds “news about her” Lewis’ eyes fell on Bree, who was looking at him with the same curiosity.

“And why should I, Lewis? You said you didn’t want to have a baby, that it would hinder your career.” You hit a nerve with Lewis, because since your departure, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing. “I had no obligation and have no obligation to give you news about my daughter.”

He came closer and you kept Bree away from him, you accepted and healed from the pain Lewis caused you, but you wouldn't allow him to do the same to your sweet little girl. Bree didn't deserve to be hurt by Lewis's selfishness.

“She’s mine too, Y/N, you can’t stop me from seeing her” he said and you finally lost your patience, so you asked your mother to take Bree to the store, you would meet them in a few minutes.

“Don’t use that horrible argument with me, Lewis Hamilton!” you pointed your finger in his face. “You made it clear that you didn’t want her! You never called to find out about her, not for me or my mother, so don’t come with ‘she’s mine too’ because I won’t fall for that! You didn't even think twice before saying you didn't want her! And now you want to demand your rights? What the fuck rights do you think you have?”

He took a step back, Lewis didn't expect you to have such an intense outburst of anger.

“Y/N, I-I wanted to turn things around, go after you,” he bit his lip, thinking about how to continue, “but I was embarrassed... But now I'm willing-...”

“But I’m not willing, Bree doesn’t need you, I don’t.” you said emphatically “My daughter doesn’t need you, your regret or anything that comes from you!”

He tried to articulate some sentence, but no sound came out of his mouth.

“Oh, that is if you have any shame, of course. But don’t worry, when Bree grows up, I’ll tell her about you and she’ll decide whether she wants you in her life or not.” You assured “Until then, continue being the ghost you have been for these two years”

And without giving him a chance to respond, you follow your mother and Bree into the store, trying to ignore the panic that was ravaging your entire body, you felt like you were about to faint. But hearing Bree's spontaneous, sweet laugh was like feeling a cool breeze on a hot day; you didn't know how, but you were sure that Lewis would stay away.

And you didn't lie, Bree didn't need him, and neither did you. Your job was more than enough to maintain and take care of all of Bree's needs, you didn't lie when you said he wasn't needed, in nothing.

Finally you could sleep peacefully knowing that Lewis was what he wanted to be in your lives, a shadow.

On the sidewalk, Lewis saw you enter the store and through the window, he could see you and Bree together, it was clear how much the little girl was loved and well cared for. Lewis tried to imagine what the two years he had lost of his life, of the life of the daughter whose name he didn't even know, had been like. He thought of all the little moments he had missed.

There were few things Lewis truly regretted in his life, and letting you go and not being able to see Bree grow up was, without a doubt, the biggest regret he carried.

CARLOS SAINZ.

Sometimes you wondered how you had the courage to consider the idea of giving your twins up for adoption. You weren't lying when you said that the twins were the best part of your life. At five years old, the identical twins made your days in the French capital — the city you moved to after breaking up with Carlos — much happier and more joyful.

You didn't even care if the two of them were little carbon copies of the Carlos; Santiago, the older twin, seemed to have inherited much of Carlos' personality, he was a little reserved and even shy and loved board games, preferred books to any electronic game and loved football, while Martín had a lot of you in him, expansive and restless, your youngest son loves logic games like Rubik's cube and puzzles and was completely addicted to any kind of racing.

And they were little fanatical Atlético de Madrid fans, which you found sweet irony.

And it was this love for the Spanish club that convinced you to take them to Spain, so that the two could watch the Madrid Derby at the Cívitas Metropolitano, Atlético's official stadium in the city of Madrid. Thanks to your work as a digital influencer, you could give your twins the experience of watching the game directly from the stadium's box.

“C'est le meilleur cadeau d'anniversaire au monde! Merci maman!” (This is the best birthday present in the world! Thanks mommy!) Martín said, hugging you before running to the fence and seeing the field, where the players were warming up.

“Tu es la meilleure au monde, maman” (You are the best in the world, mommy) Santiago said before joining his brother at the railing. You sat down next to Andie.

“I didn’t think you were serious when you said you were going to bring them to Madrid just to watch the game,” her best friend said, also keeping her eyes on the twins.

“It’s their birthday and I had to come to Madrid anyway for work, so I thought I could combine business with pleasure... And I don’t plan on stopping my boys from having good experiences because of Carlos.”

In five years, you never received a text or call from Carlos to see how the twins were doing, or to see how you were handling things. Since their birth, it had been you, the twins, and Andie —she moved to Paris as well. You weren't lying, the first few months were horrible, you truly believed that you wouldn't be a good mother or be able to take care of two babies at the same time.

But Andie was an angel to you and your boys, helping you through the best and worst times. So much so that before long, Carlos was just an old and unwanted memory in your life.

When the game went into halftime, you and Andie took the boys to the snack bar in the box to get something to eat. You hadn't noticed that you were being watched since you entered the diner, Carlos had seen you, Andie and the boys entering. The pilot didn't expect to find you there, especially with two boys who looked like they were five years old.

Without thinking twice, he approached, keeping his eyes on the boys who wore Atlético shirts and their names on the back.

Santiago and Martín.

“Y/N?” he said fearfully, catching her attention. Carlos saw surprise flash in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by icy indifference. "How long"

“That’s right, it’s been a long time.” You placed your hands on the boys’ shoulders, aware that they were both shocked.

“C'est Carlos Sainz” Martín spoke softly to Santiago with wide eyes, not that Carlos was his favorite pilot, but the boy didn't expect you to know the pilot.

“These are Martín and Santiago, my sons.” You said, introducing the boys, watching the astonishment appear on Sainz’s face.

“What’s up guys? Enjoying the game?” he said, after a few seconds of shock. You knew what was going on in his head, Carlos was doing the math.

“We don’t talk to Real Madrid fans,” Santiago said with indifference and pulled Martín away from Carlos. You were so surprised that you laughed out loud, watching Carlos’ discomfort grow even more.

“I’m going after the brats and… And I think you guys need to talk,” Andie said, following the twins back to the to their seats.

You turned completely to Carlos, for a long time you missed him, especially when you wanted him to see the boys' first steps or when they spoke for the first time. You wanted him to see how special and good your children were, but he never cared.

It took a while, but eventually it stopped hurting.

Since then, all you felt was pity, because Martín and Santiago were absurdly adorable, loving and incredible children, anyone who could have them in their lives was lucky as hell.

“I didn't think I would go through with the pregnancy" he said and you sighed.

“And I wasn’t going to, but everything changed when I held them in my arms for the first time... I knew I could never leave them” you said and a smile appeared on your face.

“My parents would love to meet you... I would like to-” He starts to say but you interrupt him, already tired of that conversation.

“You wouldn’t like anything, Carlos, you have nothing to offer my boys but abandonment and cowardice,” you replied harshly.

He swallowed hard, Carlos looked embarrassed and regretful, but you didn't care, just like he didn't care about leaving you alone in that hospital.

“Y/N please understand, I wasn’t ready and-”

“I wasn’t either, Carlos,” you interrupted him, having no patience for his excuses. “I was simply thrown alone, in the middle of the hurricane, so if that’s your excuse, improve it.”

Your gaze towards him was hard, there really was nothing that could justify abandoning him.

“If it weren’t for Andie, I don’t even know where I would be right now! Maybe they’d both be in an orphanage or something, living on the streets.” Your voice was forceful, punishing, and accurate. “I almost, almost acted like a coward with them too, but I remembered that they had already lost their father, they couldn't be without their mother too.”

Carlos hunched over slightly, like you had just hit him in the face and damn, he wished you had.

“I will tell them about you, everything they want to know and if they want to look for you, I will not stop them, but until then, do not think that your presence near them will be welcome”

And you went back to where Andie and the boys were, you were surprised to notice that Martín hadn't taken his eyes off you for a moment. Your protective little boy...

You swallowed a painful sigh and stopped the tears from welling up in your eyes.

“Est-ce qu'il t'a fait du mal, maman?” (Did he hurt you, mommy?) He asked as soon as you sat down, you gave a calm smile and denied.

“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry.” you assured, sliding your fingers through his hair, Martín kept his eyes on you. “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Damn!” he said excitedly and you narrowed your eyes.

“What language is that, young man?” you asked, and he smiled as if he had been caught red-handed.

“It was an accident, mommy... Don't be mad, please,” he asked, making the same lost puppy face that Carlos had. My God, you thought it was impossible for them to look so much alike, but the twins were in fact carbon copies of Carlos.

“Go watch the game, I’m watching you” he nodded and ran to Santiago’s side, you sighed and saw Andie sit next to you. “I thought it would be worse”

“Me too... But you did well, to be honest, I thought you were going to throw the chair at him” Andie confessed and you laughed.

“Almost... I'll tell them the truth when we get back to Paris... And I'll let them decide whether they want to approach him or not.” you said, trying to keep your nervousness from setting in ahead of schedule. You would deal with the consequences when they came, that moment was just about the boys, would not spoil it with anxious thoughts and nervousness.

On the other side of the box, Carlos couldn't pay attention to the game, his mind was divided between the game and you and the twins. Carlos thought about how selfish he had been, he thought about how he would like to go back in time and change everything, to be able to live every little moment with you and the boys.

Carlos would like to be less stupid, but there was no way anymore.

CHARLES LECLERC.

After almost seven years, you were back in France, your parents were asking — or demanding, depending on your point of view — that you and Vivienne spend Mother's Day in the south of France. It was the first time since Vivienne was born that you had returned to Europe and although you loved the feeling of being home again, you couldn't help but be apprehensive, after all you didn't know if you were prepared for the possibility of meeting Charles. But you didn't let those thoughts ruin Vivienne's experience, the girl looked like she was going to explode at any moment with so much happiness.

The two of you took the train from Paris to Bordeaux, and Vivienne couldn't tear herself away from the window, enchanted by the romantic landscape of the French countryside, she commented on every little thing, unable to contain the excitement that made her shine.

“Let’s go to the dining car, amour, You need to eat.” You called her, trying to attract the girl’s attention, who seemed much more interested in the castle that disappeared through the train window.

“Will there be croissants, maman?” Vivienne finally turned away from the window.

“Of course, amour. Let’s go before they eat it all, shall we?” you led her out into the hallway, Vivienne chattered on and on, listing the things she had liked the most so far, that's why she still made a point of greeting the other passengers.

“It’s more beautiful here than Montreal, Mom...”

“Would you like to live here?”

She stopped in the hallway for a few seconds before turning to you, the indecision was clear on her little face “I don’t think so, I would miss home... And my friends, but we can come on vacation?”

“We can come to France whenever possible, amour.” you assured her.

The dining car was half full, but that wasn't what caught his attention, but rather coming across such familiar crystal-clear eyes. You knew the chances of meeting Charles in France were 50-50, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly; suddenly you remembered why you spent so long away from your homeland. You saw Charles' smile disappear and his gaze fall on the girl in front of him, who, although she didn't look exactly like him, carried many of Leclerc's features in her own features.

“Let's sit at the table by the window, okay maman?” Vivienne asked, skipping over to the empty table, she didn’t even look to the side as she passed Charles.

"Of course, papillon, (butterfly) we can sit wherever you want.” You said, thankful that your voice came out steady, without showing the mess that was inside you.

You made Vivienne sit with her back to Charles, listening to the girl talk excitedly about the fields full of vineyards and the lavender plantations. Vivienne knew from the age of five because it was just you and her, you didn't want to wait too long to tell her the truth behind why just you were the one who went to the Father's Day presentations at her school. You remembered the pain tearing through your chest as you comforted your little girl who went to sleep crying for weeks on end, or all the times she asked why her father didn't like her. You wouldn't let anything bring that pain to Vivienne again, even if you had to throw Charles Leclerc out the train window.

“You’re not the waiter.” Vivienne’s inquisitive voice snapped you out of your reverie and you looked up to find Charles standing next to your table. Panic spread through you like wildfire. Vivienne knew that the man standing next to the table was her father, you didn't do much to hide it. “If you’re not the waiter, why did you come?”

“You have your mother’s sharp tongue,” he said, and you noticed the shadow of a smile on his face. “I’m Charles—”

“Leclerc, I know, I watch TV” she said, crossing her fingers on the table, you blinked a little dazed and took control of the situation, Vivienne didn't need to face a situation like that, not with you around to protect her, as you had been doing since her birth.

“What do you want, Charles?” you questioned seriously, the seven years away from him made you create a strong shield against the pilot's charm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you, there was no anger or contempt in his gaze, it had taken you the same seven years to understand that it had all been a huge failure in communication, however, that did not allow this to cause any more harm to Vivienne.

“I...” he stuttered, his gaze going from you to Vivienne without stopping “I came to greet you and...” he left the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for you or your daughter to reveal her name.

“You don’t need to know my name,” Vivienne said and your eyes widened.

You saw Charles' mouth open in pure astonishment, if you weren't expecting an answer like that, imagine him.

“What do you want, Charles? I don’t remember inviting you to join us,” you teased, enjoying his discomfort. You could forgive what had happened years ago, after all it wasn't anyone's fault he didn't want kids, but you fucking couldn't forget how it destroyed Vivienne for weeks. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you, and you are disturbing us.”

“Y/N I wanted to say that I'm sorry that all of this happened and...” his voice becomes a weak and distant thread, you just shake your head and raise your hand.

“There is nothing to be forgiven, Charles. That's in the past, there's no reason to bring it up again," you said sincerely, letting out a tired sigh. You wanted it to end soon, you wanted to get to Bordeaux soon. “Forget about it, leave everything in the past and go back to your girlfriend, we've been fine the last seven years without you, the next seven will be even easier, don't waste time worrying about us, we don't need you.”

He hadn't meant to be cruel or rude, but he wouldn't allow a sliver of it to reach Vivienne. Charles just nodded and walked away, you looked at Vivienne, who had tears in her eyes.

“Ma princesse,” you grabbed her hand, watching the little girl swallow her tears and give a weak smile.

“It’s okay, mom, I have you, it’s okay,” she said and went back to looking at the landscape through the window. You noticed that Charles had left. “I don’t need a father who didn’t want me”

You left the chair you were in and went to hug Vivienne, letting the girl feel how much she was loved, how much she didn't need Charles “I'm so proud of you, darling, so proud”

Outside, Charles was hyperventilating, he hadn't expected it to end like this, nor had he expected it to feel like a punch to his stomach. Suddenly, he questioned whether the choices he had made over the past seven years were good. But it didn't matter anymore, he had lost you and any chance of having... Having a family he never wanted.

It was already too late.

LANDO NORRIS.

Jordan looked at the cupcake with bright eyes, you wanted to cry when you saw the smile on your little boy's face. It was late afternoon and you wanted Jordan to be able to celebrate his first birthday on the beach, creating sand castles and playing with water.

“Happy birthday, my baby, I wish you to be blessed with happiness and love throughout your life.” you whispered, helping him blow out the candle. Jordan chuckled, grabbing the icing, smearing the blue sweetness all over his face. You let Jordan play in the sand and thought about everything that led them to that little beach in Spain.

After breaking up with Lando and receiving a court order that he didn't want to be related to you or the baby, you didn't know what to do with your life, I had a college degree, good internship experiences, but no one would hire a pregnant woman. With limited options and no support network, you've relied on the most unstable form of work: the internet. Your life wasn't the most glamorous or adventurous in the world, but people enjoyed watching you. You didn't care about fame or being known in places, you just wanted to make sure you could take care of the baby, make sure he always had a roof over his head and food on the table. No matter what shit you would do to make sure Jordan lacked for nothing.

Anything but crawling after Lando, begging for help or whatever the hell he could give.

You let Jordan play until he got tired, and only when the boy was almost asleep in the sand, you picked him up and decided to go back to the hotel. You balanced Jordan on your lap as you searched for your room key when you heard your name being called. You didn't expect to find Lando Norris in the lobby of the hotel you were staying at.

Not even by a miracle.

“What do you want here, Norris?” you asked, but you didn’t give him time to answer, you just continued on your way to the elevator. You heard him follow you and kept Jordan out of his sight.

“I want to talk to you,” he said tentatively. You stood in the opposite corner of the elevator, as far away from Lando as possible. “Is it his birthday?”

“And why does that matter to you, Norris? You’re nothing to him,” you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

He didn't even know what to answer, you couldn't understand what he was doing there, not after a year and seven months, not after that damn letter. What did he want there? Guarantee you wouldn't ask him for money? Ridiculous.

“If you want to know if I need your money, don’t worry, we don’t need anything from you”

Lando exhaled, you wouldn't give him a step, leaving him frustrated.

“I didn’t come for this... I know you’re... You’re dealing with everything well, I wanted...”

“What do you want, Norris? To see if I'm trying to scam someone to support my son? Being a gold digger?”

“Y/N I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, been...”

“What do you regret? Saying that I got pregnant so you could support me? That I wanted to pull the pregnancy scam on you? Or have you come to give me another court notice to deny your parentage with Jordan? If that's the case, don't worry, if it's up to me, your name will never be on Jordan's birth certificate.”

If shame had a portrait, it would be Lando's face.

“Please understand my side...”

“Your side, Norris? I was pregnant and you sent me away!!” you growled, trying not to wake Jordan in your arms. “I didn’t want money, I wanted support! I wanted you!”

You scoffed at the tears in his eyes, none of them made up for the times you cried alone, scared of the uncertain future you could have. If he thought you would be moved by his crying, he couldn't be more wrong. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, not caring about him following you.

“I’m sorry, I was scared!”

“I was too!” you lost your patience and heard Jordan’s whimpers. “Were you scared? Don’t be a hypocrite, Lando.”

“Let me... Let me apologize, let me take care of you two.”

“You can swallow your apologies, they’re worth nothing to me or Jordan, and as for your care…” you laughed “I won’t tell you what to do with it out of respect for my son.”

And with that, you slammed the door in his face. Hoping that Lando would go back to the same place he had come from.

MAX VERSTAPPEN.

Just as nothing hurt you more than Max's distrust, Annelise's birth healed you in immeasurable ways. The little girl became the little Sun in your world, illuminating corners you thought you would no longer visit after the breakup with Max.

When you left his house in Monaco, you spent a few days on standby, thinking about what to do, you had no one else to support you. You didn't know how, but before you knew it, you were standing on Sophie's doorstep in Belgium, you didn't expect to have the support of your ex-mother-in-law, but Sophie welcomed you with open arms, outraged by Max's attitude.

Sophie welcomed you as if you were her own daughter, helped you choose an apartment in Brussels — even though she wanted you to stay with her for as long as it took, she helped you in the first few months after Annelise was born.

Now, two years later, Annelise was spending so much time at her grandmother's house that Sophie had set up a room for her.

“Sophie, for God’s sake, don’t spoil Anne like that,” you scolded her, seeing the woman click her tongue and shrug, you knew your sermons would do no good, Sophie would continue buying gifts for Annelise.

“Nah, it’s nothing big and you know I’m not stopping any time soon,” she admitted, bouncing the little girl on her lap, Annelise was very entertained by the new teddy bear Sophie had brought. “How was the job interview? Did you get the job?”

You had applied for a job at the health center near your home, the hours were great, the pay was worth it, you just needed to find someone to look after Sophie.

“I was selected, but I need to find a good nanny to take care of Anne...”

“Y/N don’t be silly, you know I will take care of Anne with the greatest pleasure, I love taking care of her.”

“Sophie, I don’t want to give you any trouble...” you started to try to argue.

“Mom! I’m home... Y/N?” you saw Max standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in surprise, then looking at Annelise on Sophie’s lap.

“Max, you didn’t tell me you were coming, come in, I made your favorite cake, go get it from the kitchen, dear” Sophie said, she knew you weren’t ready to talk to Max yet, but the Dutchman had different plans.

You held your arms out to Annelise, who didn't think twice before jumping into your lap, you did your best to avoid Max's gaze.

“We’re going, Sophie... I’ll let you know when we get home,” you said in a whisper and crossed the room towards the exit, but Max grabbed your bicep, stopping you from leaving.

“We need to talk, Y/N... Just five minutes, please,” he said quietly, as soothingly as he could.

“We have nothing to talk about, Max.”

“Please, just five minutes,” he begged, giving Annelise a quick glance in his lap.

“Five minutes, no more.” You said, releasing your arm from his grip. “Sophie, can you take Anne please?”

“Of course, it’s no sacrifice for me, is it, mon bebé?”

Finally you and Max were alone, you were uncomfortable to the point that your skin felt itchy.

“I didn’t expect to see you here… I thought you would stay in Monaco”

“I had nothing to keep me in Monaco, I saw no reason to stay there, and Sophie welcomed me as if I were her daughter,” you said, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “Get to the point, Max, I have to go...”

He licked his lips nervously. “I wanted to talk about our daughter.”

“No, no, calm down, you don’t have a daughter, at least not with me, Annelise is my daughter and mine alone, your participation in her conception was purely accidental.” You said it without any emotion.

“I know I said stupid things that night, Y/N, but I want to make up for every single one of them, with you and with the girl” he said and you scoffed.

“Oh really? And what makes you think you have any right to her?”

“Y/N I’m her father” he said patiently, as he always was with you, until that night at least.

“Unless you request a DNA test, there is nothing to prove your paternity over Annelise,” you determined, taking a step towards him, “and don’t think I’m an idiot, Max, you always knew I was in Brussels with your mother, Sophie told you that the same day I arrived, because I highly doubt she didn't give you the biggest lecture of your life that night.”

He looked away, proving his point “and yet you never cared, you didn’t come to her birthday, or call when she had pneumonia, you didn’t even know her name until today, So please don't lie to me saying that you regret it or that you want to be a part of her life.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples, already feeling the pains of the inevitable migraine.

“Annelise will eventually find out about you, but until then, don't go near her, I won't allow you to be cruel to my daughter the way you were to me.” That was your final sentence before you went to get Annelise with Sophie. You didn't want to have to share oxygen with him any more than necessary. Max belonged to a past you didn't want to revisit.

He stood still in place, watching you leave with the girl, without giving you another look.

“There are stupid people, and then there’s you, Max,” Sophie said, approaching her son. “I find it absurd how you inherited Jos’s worst traits...”

He couldn't help but agree, Max was fucking dumb.

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#f1 imagine #f1 #f1!angst #f1!fanfic #f1!headcanons #f1 grid x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #sawturn

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targaryenimagines · 4 months ago

Text

Twin Flames

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8,219

Summary: With your due date drawing nearer, you begin to wonder what sort of life you’re going to be bringing into the world; dealing with your constantly fluctuating emotions is easier than facing the thoughts that grace your mind during the midnight hours. You should have known it’d only be a matter of time before your dragon became aware.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, grief, self worth issues, allusions to sex, and descriptions of labor/childbirth (non-graphic).

Notes: This shifted around from what I had initially planned, but I can’t say that I’m upset with how it turned out! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you all! Thank you to @justyourwritter69 for the wonderful inspiration — it may not be exactly what you had been thinking of, but I hope you like it all the same!

Series Masterlist

Warm palms run up the sides of your heaving body — still coiled tightly from the last shockwaves of ecstasy passing through — pulling you ever closer, even as a light laugh is hidden in the crook of your neck, the large grin stretched across your wife’s lips being more than apparent when she nuzzles the sweaty expanse of skin.

“I have to admit,” Daenerys pants, pressing one last lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw, before pulling back to peer down at you: silvery-gold hair acting as a curtain, cutting off the rest of the world entirely. “You might be starting to wear me out, dearest one.”

You arch a brow, legs opening to allow for Daenerys to comfortably settle once more between them; the heat radiating from her back, when you stroke a gentle finger down the length of her spine, offering a sense of comfort that no quilt ever could. “I wasn’t aware that was a possibility,” you tease, a lightness to your tone that caused Daenerys’ own smile to grow that much more. “In fact, I believe it was you who kept me up all night in Meereen. Because, and I quote, you wanted to watch the sun set and rise while being inside of me.” A huff of laughter falls from your lips. “Where has that woman gone to?”

Violet eyes roll skyward, but the open fondness within her gaze, and the bone-deep adoration etched across her face, never wavers in the slightest. “She’s still here, ñuha perzys. Very much so.” As if to prove her point, Daenerys ruts softly against you; letting you feel the extent of the influence you had upon her body. “But I can’t do all of the things I wish to do to you. Not when you’re carrying such precious cargo.”

A brilliant grin stretches across your face at the reminder — even as one of Daenerys’ palms slides from its place on your hip to the growing swell of your abdomen.

Precious cargo, you muse, taking in the sight of your Khaleesi’s peaceful expression. Your twins.

It had come as quite a shock to you when you discovered that you could potentially be having twins from the Palace Healer; a wave of complex emotions crashing over you as Daenerys had puffed up at the thought. It’s a trait you couldn’t help but admire in your wife. You had only ever seen her truly shaken a few times in your long relationship, even when she was the young would-be conqueror trying to find her way in the world, she rarely ever allowed herself to fall.

So, while you were swept into the tide of varying emotions, Daenerys stood as a sturdy rock beside you, preening with pride and jubilation at the fact that she’d soon have two more children to love, to adore, to protect.

In a manner she wasn’t able to before. A thought that had caused a spike of pain to lance through your heart, squeezing at your lungs to stifle the air that your two children would never be able to breathe again; Viserion and Rhaegal were never far from your mind. The golden gleam of the sun hitting the Narrow Sea reminded you of the warmth within Viserion’s aureate gaze, the pristine white of your wedding dress reminiscent of his beautiful scales. Whereas the changing seasons, from the cold winter months to the tentative grasp of spring, brought with it the memory of Rhaegal’s emerald-hued wings stretched across you in a protective embrace, the rumbling of thunder on the horizon, as a summer storm rolled in, bringing back the resounding echoes of his fiery roar to the forefront of your memory.

You knew, deep within your heart, that as long as their memory lived on within you, within Daenerys, and the people that they had graced with their presence, they’d never be truly gone.

Even though you wanted nothing more than for them to be here: to see three shadows flying over King’s Landing, to hear their roars echo along with Drogon’s, to feel the warmth of their bond within your very soul.

Their absence, as your pregnancy delved into the final months, became more apparent with each passing moment. You wished, more than anything, that you could share the kindling of new life with your darling Prūmia and Bāne; knowing that Drogon, your Mīsio, would find comfort from them as well. Instead, he now carried the burden of being an elder brother completely alone.

What was once three, is now only one…

The dragon is supposed to have three heads, but what do you do when two have been ripped away?

If you couldn’t protect Viserion and Rhaegal, mystical beasts from the oldest tales of Westeros, descendants of the mighty creatures of Old Valyria, then how would you ever be able to do so for your twins?

How could you be a proper mother when you’ve already failed so greatly?

“Where have you gone in that beautiful head of yours?” The gentle question pulls you from your torrential thoughts, unfocused eyes snapping to look into a calming violet gaze. At the sight a small smile quirks Daenerys’ lips, but you can detect the worry glimmering just beneath the surface. “There you are.”

You muster up a small smile, knowing that it was lackluster by the way Daenerys' frown seems to grow. "Here I am," you joke. "I was just lost in my thoughts, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worried."

"I will always worry about you," Daenerys replies. "As long as my enemies walk this world, and something can cause harm to you, then I will continue to be worried. That's what you do for the people you love."

"Really?" Silken skin meets your fingertips as you gently trace a line from high cheekbones, down to a sharp jawline, to full lips, and back again. "I wasn't aware I ranked so highly on your list of priorities, Khaleesi."

Violet eyes narrow at the blatant teasing. "I don't have a list of priorities." You almost laugh at the petulant pout that overtakes your wife's face. "It's true, beloved."

"I don't think that's true, Daenerys." You begin to count on your fingers. "You have the Seven Kingdoms. You have your armies. You have the whole mess with the Stark's. You have--"

Soft lips do a great job at shutting you up, an expert tongue acting in a great supporting role to make you boneless beneath the commanding form of your wife, as nimble fingers curl through the strands of your still sex-mussed hair. "Nothing," she whispers hotly against your mouth, warm breath still mingling with your own. "Will ever be more important than you. The Iron Throne means nothing to me if I don't have you by my side while I rule. My armies mean nothing if I do not have you to defend. This right here?" Daenerys rubs her nose against your own, smoothing a hand down the swell of your belly. "Our family that you've blessed me with, our son that's been ravenously waiting for his little siblings, is all that I could ever want. Nothing will ever be more of a priority to me than my family."

You allow your Khaleesi to hold you close for a moment, at peace within her strong embrace, but soon the need to rile her up once more overtakes you. "All of those things you just mentioned are priorities to you?" Daenerys hums in agreement, having shifted over onto her back to allow you a better position to rest upon her chest, slender fingers now gently carding through your hair to untangle some of the strands. "Wouldn't you call that a list, Khaleesi?"

Daenerys' answering chuckle rumbles through her beneath your ear, her fingers never halting in their soothing motion, as she pulls you impossibly closer to her lithe form. "No, I wouldn't call it a list. A list makes it sound militaristic, cold, unfeeling, and that's the exact opposite of how I feel." She peers down at you through dark lashes, full lips quirked in adoration. "I call it the very reason for my next breath, the reason that my heart will continue beating, and the sole purpose that I'll never lose my fire to continue fighting for a better future."

Silence falls then — both being soothed by the company of the other; you by the steady beat of Dany's heart beneath your ear and Daenerys by the heat of your body curled against her own. You could even feel yourself beginning to fall asleep, something you're hoping will last till morning, before a need fills you once more. This time, instead of being one to tease your dragon, it's one to reaffirm that her adoration, her love, was more than reciprocated.

"You're everything to me, Dany," you sigh, nuzzling into warm skin. "I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

"And you, my dearest flame, are the big house with the red door and the lemon tree." Her arms tighten around you, her last words whispered against the crown of your head as you drift off into sleep. "I'm no longer lost when I look back. You helped me accept my past, embrace my present, and look forward to my future."

It’s only hours later, when your wife is nestled closely to you, a lithe arm wrapped around your abdomen in a protective embrace, that you finally give up on your battle to find sleep. You had hoped, as you had the many nights prior, that Daenerys would tire you out to the point that you could fall into dreamless sleep from sheer exhaustion; something that typically worked.

But no one, not even your dragon, could maintain that level of vigor at night coupled with being Queen of Westeros during the day; although she made a valiant effort, certainly better than anyone else could hope to accomplish.

Refraining from making too much noise, even if it was to just sigh, you slowly edge your way from underneath your dragon's arm — something that's a lot easier in theory, even if you had been doing it more and more recently as sleep continued to elude you — almost panicking when Daenerys tightened her hold, grumbling something against the nape of your neck, before she slackened once more.

Slipping from the bed, after ensuring that Daenerys had truly fallen back asleep, you carefully maneuver around the room, slipping on a discarded tunic that you vaguely recall Daenerys wearing upon entering your shared chambers after dinner — having quickly shed her clothing to take a much-needed bath after the arduous day.

Following your usual route, you find yourself standing on the overhanging balcony that let you see King's Landing in its entirety as well as the harbor twinkling softly in the night. It's on nights like this, when the moon is bright and the stars are twinkling, that you have the most trouble falling asleep. On stormy, or simply overcast, nights you didn't ache deep within your bones, but when the world unveiled itself in its natural state of beauty?

It's like having shards of glass travel down your throat every time you took a breath. Memories of nights underneath a different starry sky, in arid deserts and ancient cities, wherein Viserion and Rhaegal danced across the sky like they were trying to join the very stars themselves — always testing to see who could fly higher.

Looking up now, at the stars shining so brilliantly, you can't help but wonder if they were up there now? If they had finally made it in their pursuit to see who could make it to the top. You wonder if Viserion had saved a special spot for Rhaegal... You wonder if he was currently saving spots for you all...

Tears blur your vision, distorting the sky into a hazy blob of black and silver, and you hope, that wherever they may be now, that they were happy. That they were safe and loved in a way they always deserved to be treated.

Could they see you now?

Could they hear the way your heart cried out for them?

Did they know how much you missed them?

Did they know how much you love them still? How much you will always love them?

Did they know how much darker the world had become since their light was taken away?

"What are you doing out here, ñuha perzys?"

No, your mind cries out. Why tonight, of all nights, did she have to wake up?

"Beloved?"

You hesitated in turning to look at her, knowing that the moment you did you'd be caught, but the longer you waited, the longer you stalled, the more Daenerys would become agitated, her protective instincts flaring into life. There's no way for you to get out of this... Not without the conversation you've been desperately trying to avoid.

So, with a soft sigh, you turn to face the love of your life; being met with the adorably disgruntled form of Daenerys Targaryen: clad in only a rumpled robe that had been thrown across a vanity due to her haste to have you hours before.

"Dany."

Daenerys rarely had to ask you what was plaguing your mind when it became like this — her ability to read you like a book coming in handy — and, for a brief moment, you're glad that you won't have to explain it to her. Explain to her how much of a failure you felt like you were. How your fears of becoming a mother were amplified because you had failed so spectacularly before.

Violet eyes observe you for another moment, darkening with an untold emotion, before something seems to shift inside of her.

"Do you blame me?" The question is uttered softly, on a hesitant breath, that is the complete opposite of your veracious wife. "Do you?"

You shake your head. "Blame you for what, Dany?"

Please don't know, please don't know, please--

"Viserion and Rhaegal."

The mention of their names, coupled with the latent thoughts still swirling within the dark recesses of your mind, causes you to flinch, arms instinctively tightening around yourself in a protective hold. An action that Daenerys must have taken as a positive answer to her question; if the almost injured look that's now openly expressed across her beautiful face is anything to go by.

"We've had this discussion before, Daenerys," you murmur, not wishing to rehash harsh words and reopen still barely healed wounds. "I don't blame you for Viserion. Not anymore."

Daenerys winces at the reminder of what had occurred in Dragonstone all those moons ago. "But you did." It's not a question. There's no need for pleasant lies when in the face of your soulmate. "Who's to say that you don't again? I wouldn't blame you if you did. It was my fault to listen to my advisors instead of my instincts. It was my fault to agree to send Jon Snow beyond the Wall with Jorah. It was my decision to go after them completely alone. It was my own stupidity that led me to turn my back on everything that I learned, everything that I had become in order to get to where I am now." She steps closer to you, unshed tears causing violet eyes to shimmer like untouched amethysts in the argent light of the moon. "It was all because of me that Viserion was struck down in an icy hellscape. Where he was forced to become enslaved to that thing. It was because of me that our son, our youngest child, had his fire drowned by ice."

Your eyes shutter shut at the memories her words invoke. Flashes of icy blue eyes where there should have been gentle gold viciously cycle within your head as you try to forget the brokenly shattered form of your son that you had found after the Battle of Winterfell.

"Not to mention Rhaegal," Daenerys continues, angry spite, all of it directed at herself, hardening her tone. "If I had paid more attention, if I had kept him closer to me, if I had been more cognizant that Euron would have been lurking in the waters below, then he would still be with us. You wouldn't have had to watch as he fell from the sky, you wouldn't have been bathed red by specks of his blood, you wouldn't have had to use milk of the poppy or dreamwine in order to fall asleep because you had such bad nightmares. You wouldn't have suffered if it wasn't for me. Our children would still be alive if it wasn't for me."

Even if some of what she said held merit — others being beliefs you had held onto just to inflict pain onto her; not unlike the pain you had felt when dealing with the unending grief — you refused to let her drown within her pain, refuse to let Daenerys' light get snuffed out. Not when she had been your steady rock for so long, your guiding light to bring you home, the only reason you had been able to pull yourself from the dark abyss their deaths had caused.

"No," you rebuke, tone firm. "I don't blame you, Daenerys. The Night King killed Viserion. The Night King is the reason our beautiful boy was trapped in an unending purgatory instead of the peaceful death he deserved. Rhaegal—" Pausing, lips pressed into a thin line, you take a shuddering breath before pressing on. "We didn't see Euron's fleet either. We were all aware of the potential risks he posed, but none of us took the proper precautions. Rhaegal, what happened to him, and what occurred afterwards, wasn't solely on you, Dany. You were foolish, I won't pretend that you weren't, but you were trying to make too many people happy, trying so hard to be the ruler that they all wanted you to be, instead of being the queen you were always meant to be. You got lost, Dany, and while the price we paid was high, and I don't think the pain will ever fully disappear, I'm just happy you were able to find yourself in some manner in the end." You step closer to your darling dragon, pressing a reverent hand to a flushed cheek. "So, no, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, I don't blame you for the deaths of our children."

Daenerys simply stares at you for a moment, her gaze almost inscrutable, but you can see the light beginning to return, even as her lips downturn slightly. "Then why do you blame yourself?"

No answer is forthcoming even as a thousand more spring to mind.

How could I not be? I didn't speak up; I saw what was happening and didn't do anything. I wasn't the partner you deserved, Daenerys, not like the one you have been to me and, because of that, because I couldn't find it within myself to just fucking speak up, our sons were killed...

How could I not be responsible when I still remember the sounds of Viserion's distorted roar and Rhaegal's scream of agony?

How could I not be when I'm still haunted by their faces every damn day?

You know that you couldn't say any of those things — Daenerys would probably blow a fuse — but the look within your wife's gaze let you know that she wasn't going to let you off the hook quite yet.

"I don't know," you admit, shoulders slumping as you turn from her inquisitive stare. "I don't know. Are you happy?"

The warm presence of your wife settles before you, standing closer than she had since the entire discussion had begun. "Of course, I'm not happy. You're in pain." Slender fingers gently grasping your face to turn your head to look at her. "It's something I will never enjoy seeing, but I want you understand me when I say this." Daenerys' eyes sharpen, violet pools burning with an inner fire that bespoke of her bloodline. "You need to stop wondering what might have been. It's something I couldn't stop doing, something that I still struggle with on occasion, but it will only make it so that you miss what's happening now. Viserion and Rhaegal are gone, which is something that will never leave us, but to only carry the darkness around with us would be a disservice to the light they had brought into our lives. They're gone, but they'll never be forgotten, because we won't let that happen. So, please, don't blame yourself any longer for something you can't change. Not if you won't let me share that blame alongside you." She steps closer, always drawn like a moth to a flame when you're near. "I promised to protect you from everything when I took you as my wife, to love and hold you through any storm that may come, to weather any battle that'll mean you'll be okay. Even if that means contending with the beasts that lurk within your beautiful mind. I know it's hard, my beloved, but I can't stand not knowing when you're in pain. Not if there's something I can do about. So, please, don't shut me out even if you think you're protecting me by doing so."

You nod, heart twisting at her soulful plea. "I'll try."

Even if you don't know how you'll accomplish it...

"That's all I'll ever ask for."

There's a moment of silence — wherein only the world dares intertwine within the moment you were now sharing with your dragon — before Dany gently smiles at you, love and adoration etching themselves across her face in an open mural of her devotion towards you.

“Come back to bed.” Daenerys reaches out for you, her hands slightly chilled by the night air when your own slots perfectly in place. “You know how I hate the emptiness when you're not there.”

Fighting the urge to smile, you follow your wife back from the balcony into the spacious bedchamber you’ve made into your haven, and you're not surprised in the slightest when Daenerys flops down onto her back, arms wide open in a silent invitation for you to take your rightful place between them.

This time, when you fell into your dragon's embrace, the warmth of your bed surrounding you, though never standing a chance against the heat of your wife, you knew, in that moment, that you'd finally be able to sleep.

Even if it took a while for your mind to finally catch up with what your body needed.

You’re not sure when you had fallen asleep, but suddenly awakening, standing on a sunlit coast that was all too familiar, with the sound of sea birds and crashing waves surrounding you, gave you the impression that you had at some point.

Either that or you were finally going insane.

Turning in place, you take in the sights, the smells, and the sounds of a world that you hadn’t believed you’d ever return to; even if Essos was simply across the Narrow Sea, you don’t think you’d ever be able to see it the same way again. Not after everything that’s happened.

Still, even now, you couldn’t deny that the sight of the Great Pyramid, far off into the distance, didn’t elicit some bone-deep reaction within you. Memories of easier times flickering through your mind — even as the faces of the ones you lost threaten to overwhelm you — allowing for a small smile to stretch across your lips.

A smile that turns into a full blown grin the moment you crane your neck to look at the azure sky and see two familiar shapes circling overhead; Viserion and Rhaegal. Their wings beat rhythmically, creating a soft, soothing sound that echoes across the peaceful landscape as they begin to descend. The sight of them, at the ease in which they danced upon the wind, and around the other, brings a tug of longing to your heart; wishing, more than anything, that this wasn’t a dream. That you’d be able to see it when you awakened.

Landing with a soft thump, a small spray of golden sand showering over your feet, their massive forms tower over you, but you weren’t intimidated for a moment; not when they radiated an aura of warmth and familiarity.

Viserion approaches first, cream colored scales shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight, causing the golden accents to almost appear like flames, and nudges you gently with his snout, a gesture of recognition and affection. Pressing a hand to his cheek, almost crying at the feeling of his sun-soaked pebbled scales, you look into his gleaming golden eyes, a feeling of absolution settling over you as you realize that the icy blue wouldn’t be the last color you witnessed any longer.

Rhaegal, not to be outdone by his younger brother, soon approaches; emerald scales gleam like precious gems as the bronze hues brings with it the thought of your countless hours laying in a field watching him dip and dive in the wind. Tears, that had been gathering from the moment you saw your sons in the air, begin to fall down your cheeks, a sob being stifled in your throat, as you press your hands into both of their cheeks; wanting to be reassured that they were actually there. That they wouldn’t just vanish and leave you bereft once more.

“I miss you both so much,” you whisper, throat still tight from the efforts of keeping your sobs at bay. Their soft croons in response, large heads nuzzling closer to the warmth you provided, nearly being your undoing. “I’m sorry that I failed you. That I wasn’t able to protect you.”

They both let loose short rumbles in response; clearly not agreeing with your evaluation of your past deeds. Rhaegal nudges you with his head, forcing you to take a step back, as he and Viserion seem to have a silent conversation with the other. A sight that brings a small furrow to your brow, but you're not able to say, or do, anything before the world seems to tilt on its axis and everything blurs together. Your stomach lurching at the suddenness of solid ground, and a miasma of colors, as everything seems to settle once more.

Well... almost settled, you think, casting a quick glance to the world around you; noting, with a sinking feeling in your gut, that your sons were nowhere to be found, but that wasn't the only thing that had captured your attention.

Gone were the shrieking of the gulls, the warmth of the sand beneath your feet, the almost sweet scent upon the wind; now you stood at the precipice of a cliff you hadn’t been to since Daenerys had claimed King’s Landing — a place that’d forever haunt you.

Dragonstone…

The air is unusually still, carrying an otherworldly scent of sea salt and dragon fire. The sky above is a swirling canvas of deep purples and oranges, with stars twinkling faintly through the wisps of clouds; an almost dizzying shift from the golden sunlight, crystalline skies, and a warm ocean breeze.

Beneath your feet, waves crash against the rocks with an unparalleled intensity, sending sprays of foam into the air. You didn’t have to look behind you to know that the ancient castle was looming; towers reaching towards the sky as if to grasp what the owners had lost in the years since the dragons vanished.

Twin thumps, and rush of air that ruffles your hair, is all the warning you receive that your sons had arrived.

“Why are we here?”

You didn’t have the heart, or the strength of will, to ask all of the other questions plaguing your mind: Is this my punishment for failing you both? To be forever trapped in the place that I had last seen you? Happy. Whole. Together.

Viserion’s warm head bumps against your side, a small croon bubbling from deep within his throat; it was a sound he always used to make when he wished to go flying, or wanted you to scratch just a bit to the left, or simply because he wished for you attention, for your love.

You laugh wetly, fighting a losing battle in keeping your tears at bay. “I know you dragons are beasts that'll never be fully understood, but I’d like a straight answer at least once.”

None was forthcoming — not from Viserion, whose gentle gaze never wavered from where he had curled his neck around your body, nor from Rhaegal, who had decided to rest on the opposite side, bracketing you within their warmth, keeping you from the cold, harsh wind of the surf — but, in that moment, you realized all you needed to know.

It's a realization that barely registered before Viserion confirms it for you, pressing a warm snout against the clothed area of your abdomen — a place that had once been flat, now round with the promise of new life — and you feel your twins instantly react to his presence. A fact that causes Viserion to snort happily and for Rhaegal to finally raise his head to nuzzle closer; a position that you had been in numerous times before, wedged between your youngest boys while Drogon was off with Daenerys. The bittersweet twang that this moment causes makes you want to never leave, to never get up from the warmth that they had always provided.

Knowing, that when you woke up, you'd be without them once more.

Memories of the last time you had been on this cliff, watching the sun cast a miasma of colors across the Westerosi sky, as Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers worked on the sands far below, assault you in a vicious attack; echoes of Viserion's playful chortling as Rhaegal snarled in response to his brother's continued insistence to steal some of his food. A squabble the two had grown accustomed to having — one you had grown used to overseeing — that never escalated past the first few nips; wherein you'd finally step in and give Viserion the rest of whatever you had on hand.

You remember, with sharp clarity, the way the sun had cast an almost angelic aura within Viserion's kind eyes and the way in which it brought out the darker green hues within Rhaegal's hide.

You remember the serenity you had felt watching Drogon dip and weave across the bay, leaning up against Viserion's warm side with Rhaegal's large head nestled close to your lap.

You remember the sounds of raised voices, that you had previously ignored when they graced your ears through the whistling wind, growing closer; Tyrion's exasperation and Daenerys' calm nonchalance finally keying you into the severity of what was occurring.

You remember your own objections being raised when Daenerys had told you her plan — worry and fear nearly choking you. For her. For your children. For what it could mean for her men if something were to happen. For the future that you weren't ready to live without her in.

You remember the gentle kiss and promise that she had bestowed on you before mounting Drogon: "I will be back soon. You'll be cuddled up with our children and me before you know it."

You remember the warmth of Viserion's cheek as you caressed his pebbled scales, the way your hair blew back when Rhaegal huffed as you leant to kiss his nose, and the amused look within Drogon's crimson gaze when you scratched under his chin.

You remember the heavy feeling in your chest nearly crushing you as you watched all three, along with your Khaleesi, disappear into the horizon.

And, above it all, you remember the look within violet eyes upon Daenerys' return, her pleading words when you looked out into the bay expecting to see three forms but instead saw only two, the distance that had grown between you as you dealt with your grief, the pain that kept you up at night, the regret that hung over you for not speaking up, and that same weight bearing down onto you.

You can't even bear to look out towards the open water now where Rhaegal had fallen, where his emerald scales had been stained forever crimson, and the sounds of his cries still haunted your dreams; your darling boy, your Bāne, always so hotheaded, disappearing beneath frothing water... Simply gone before you could even blink.

Both gone before you could...

The sudden realization of why you're here, why Viserion and Rhaegal were nestled so close to you, finally clicked into place and, with that realization, your tears finally cascaded down your cheeks.

"To say goodbye." You look down into their eyes, one set gold and the other bronze, as tears continue to fall from your own. "That's why I'm here. You're letting me say goodbye."

Twin rumbles meet your declaration, large heads pushing closer as they gently nuzzle your growing stomach. A sight that you would do anything to see in real life — knowing, with everything you had, that they would have made the best big brothers. Smoothing a hand down Rhaegal's jaw, and then shifting to Viserion, you lean closer and allow yourself to be fully wrapped in their embrace.

"I wish that I could go back and hold you both a bit longer. Give you a bit more of the fish I had stolen from the kitchen. Stayed a little bit longer snuggled into your side as I read. I wish that I could get all those little moments back and hold them tightly, so I'd never lose them, never lose you." Rhaegal nudges your shoulder, causing a watery chuckle to escape from your lips. "But, above anything, I wish that I had been able to show you both how much I loved you as fiercely, and as loyally, as you loved me, because I would have died to protect you. I would have gladly sacrificed myself so you both could live."

Shifting back, you look at your darling boys, never letting your hands stray too far from the warmth of their scales. "I want you to know how much I love you, how much I will always love you, and that you'll never be far from my heart. No matter how much time passes, I will never forget either of you. I will never forget the moments we made together and the love you freely gave me. I will never forget what you both have done for me." You lightly place a kiss on both of their snouts. "Goodbye, my darling boys, for the next time I see you, I won't be leaving your sides ever again."

Viserion and Rhaegal press closer, their wings stretching out further to eclipse the very sky above you; casting the diluted light into a fractured array of bronze and gold coloring. The sight bringing you peace as the beginnings of the world starts to blur at the edge of your vision.

And, even as everything fades into grey around you — the twin gazes, one gold and the other bronze, act as a beacon of light to where you were meant to go.

Rain hammers against tall windows, accompanied by the occasional flash of lightning that illuminates the grand tapestries on the walls within the royal bedchamber; the air heavy with the scent of salt and sea, mingling with the sweet incense burned by the attending septas.

You don’t know what had caused you to feel the sudden urge to travel to Dragonstone, remnants of a hazy memory being your only clue; as you rarely left King’s Landing since the news of the impending heirs became public knowledge. Daenerys hadn’t been happy about the potential trip — the way in which she had grit her teeth almost made you believe she was about to spit fire — but something in your eyes must have given her the impression that you weren’t going to back down.

Her acceptance didn’t mean it was an easy trip — with Daenerys’ constant hovering, Drogon snapping at anyone that got too close, and Grey Worm almost stabbing three maids that had suddenly appeared to help you out of the days outfit, being the lightest of the events that had occurred — but the sight of the ancient castle, with its dark spires reaching out to seemingly conquer the sky itself, brought with it a wave of relief that nearly keeled you over; the pressure within your heart clicking into place, making everything right once more.

Everything had gone smoothly for the first five days of your spontaneous vacation, but things had almost imploded when Daenerys had been told, via a raven, her presence was needed in King’s Landing due to a few of the minor noble families stirring up trouble with the visiting dignitaries from Essos. You knew that your wife didn’t wish to leave you, not so late into your pregnancy, nor did your son, but escalating drama within King’s Landing — one Daenerys wanted you far away from — compelled her to shift from doting wife to Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

She had left the next morning, with a searing kiss pressed to your lips, arms wrapped tight around your form, and a whispered vow seemingly imprinted into your skin: “I will be back within the next two days, I swear it. Even if that means I have to kill every last person that would dare keep me from you.”

Which means it was only right that you’d go into labor on the end of the second day; a raging storm, the likes that hadn’t been seen since your darling wife had been born, crashing over Dragonstone.

“Daenerys still isn’t here?” You gasp, a strangled groan escaping you at the same time. “Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

Grey Worm stands by your side, his sharp features etched with concern. “No, Your Grace, but I know she’ll arrive soon. Even with this weather I’m certain the raven will have reached her by now. For the moment, until Her Majesty can be here, I implore you to focus on yourself.” His rough hand clutch yours, offering what little warmth and reassurance he can. “I’ll be by your side until then.”

The maester, with his wispy beard and trembling hands, no doubt aware of what would happen to him if something were to go wrong, moves between your legs, his voice steady despite the chaos outside. “Push now, gently,” he instructs, his soft tone a sharp contrast to the tempestuous night.

You follow his guidance, clutching at Grey Worm’s proffered hand, summoning every ounce of strength left within your body.

The ancient stones of Dragonstone seem to tremble in response to each clap of thunder, as if the very castle shared in your agony. Yet, amidst the roaring winds and pain — a single strike of clarity, not unlike the lightning streaking through the sky, hits you; a profound sense of determination racing through your haggard form, burrowing deep within your heart, to bring life into this world, despite the raging storm and the absence of your wife.

Gritting your teeth, an agonized cry tears itself from deep within your chest, as you push once more, only faintly hearing the guiding words of the maester.

And, just as another streak of lightning illuminated the sky, Daenerys stormed into the room, her presence commanding and urgent; violet eyes burning with residual fury at being held up, and silvery-gold hair slightly disheveled, betraying the haste in which she had arrived to Dragonstone.

Where she is, Drogon is sure to quickly follow, you think, warmth spreading through you at the sight of your wife and the knowledge your son was home. And, just as the thought crosses your mind, a familiar shadow casts itself over the room, thundering wing-beats being easily discernible from the crackling lightning. No matter how tired he may have been from his long journey, Drogon would stay outside until you brought the twins into this world; a thought that brings a wave of affection for your eldest crashing through you.

“I’m here,” Daenerys announced, voice strained in apology but her relief was palpable as she made her way to your side; taking the spot that Grey Worm had quickly vacated. Pressing a kiss to the hand clasped in hers, Daenerys brushes a sweat-soaked strand of hair from your overheated forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late. I wanted nothing more than to be back by your side the moment I left it.”

You’re only able to offer her a strained smile in response, another wave of pain shooting through you as the maester continues guiding the process along.

Daenerys, easily taking note of your state, turns wild eyes to the gathered servants. “How is she? How far along are we?” The strained quality of her voice, coupled with the vice grip she has upon your hand, gives you an easy understanding of where your wife’s mind had went; to the night of her own birth in this very castle — a night where Daenerys Targaryen was borne but Rhaella Targaryen ceased to exist. “Has there been any issues?”

“No, Your Majesty.” A midwife helpfully supplies, her presence near the bed signifying that you’d hopefully bringing one of your twins into the world soon. “Everything has gone well. Her Majesty has been doing well. There’s no cause for alarm.”

Daenerys, while still stiff, seemed to accept the response, her attention swiftly falling to you solely. “I’m right here, my beloved. I’m not going anywhere.”

Time seems to stretch into an eternity — you’re barely able to discern Daenerys gentle hold, and soothing words, from the maester that was still acting as a guiding light — and the pain is almost stifling until, with one final push, the first of your twins enters the world.

Exhausted, yet elated at the same time, you watch, through bleary eyes, as a midwife quickly takes the babe into her arms to clean, only giving you the barest glimpse of a tiny form before disappearing into the swarm of moving bodies.

But, however much your body may rebel at the thought, the labor wasn’t over yet; another wave of pain crashing over you, ensured that you understood that fact. With every bit of strength you had left in your body, while sweat beaded your brow, and your wife stayed steadily by your side, you give one final push and feel as your second child comes into the world; the same process quickly taking place as the babe was swept away to be seen to.

Twin cries soon fill the chamber in a harmonious display of new life — cutting through the fog that had fallen over your mind — a sound that brings tears to your eyes and a lightness to your chest, as if a weight had suddenly been lifted that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“Boys! You’ve had two beautiful boys, Your Majesty!” A portly midwife bustles towards you, a delicately small form cradled against her clothed chest. “Perfectly healthy.”

Your son is soon placed on your chest, skin to skin, and he’s soon joined by his brother; both babes swaddled but giving you a perfect view to see their beautiful faces. Looking up at your dragon, you can’t help the tears that stream down your face when you notice her own glistening upon porcelain skin.

“Two handsome princes,” you murmur, gently tracing a line down a chubby cheek. “I can’t believe we’re mothers, Dany.” Your eyes meet the violet gaze of your wife, happiness shared between you like the love that has bonded you for years. “After all this time, I can’t believe that I’m actually here.”

“I never wish to be anywhere else,” Daenerys replies, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, smoothing a hand down your back. “I would do it all over again, go through all the pain and heart ache, if it meant that I could end up right back here with you, with our children.”

Angling your head, you huff out a light chuckle, taking note that Drogon had taken his leave to, no doubt, rest on the cliff side until he was allowed to meet his siblings in person; something you were excited to do, but your new position also allows you to get a better look at your Khaleesi for the first time; your brow furrowing in concern instantly.

“I thought I was supposed to be the only one covered in blood.” You tug at the crimson stained fabric of her ornate tunic. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m more than fine, dearest one,” Daenerys soothes, calmly smoothing a wild strand of hair back behind your ear. “I simply honored the promise I made to you upon my departure.”

Even if that means I have to kill every last person that would dare keep me from you.

Your eyes flutter shut, arms tightening ever-so-slightly around the twins. “Who did you kill, Dany?” Violet eyes, filled with open amusement, are the first thing you see when you collect yourself. “It wasn’t anyone that’d cause a war, is it?”

“As if any of the nobleman would dare test me,” she scoffs, clearly affronted at the mere insinuation. “I made it abundantly clear how foolish it’d be to keep me from arriving back at your side promptly, something that most of those imbeciles seemed to take as a challenge. A feat that became even more imbecilic when I had received the raven stating that you had gone into labor.”

“How many?”

“I don’t see why that would matter—”

“How many, Daenerys?” You interrupt, the sharpness within your gaze causing your wife to halt mid-sentence. “Don’t you dare lie to me either, I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Daenerys huffs. “A little over two dozen, I’d wager.” Her eyes roll skyward, as if she still couldn’t believe the audacity of the people who had stood between her and her family. “However, as I was saying, I don’t see why that would matter. I did tell them to not get in my way, especially since I was already in a horrid mood having to deal with their foolishness to begin with, not to mention leaving your side, I simply ran out of the patience that had already been in short supply.”

“I don’t even wish to imagine what you would have done if you had missed the birth of our sons.”

Your wife tilts her head. “I would have killed them all, of course. Keeping me from you is a sin upon itself, but keeping me away so you go through something like this alone? Wherein anything could have happened to you?” Daenerys shakes her head at the mere notion. “There wouldn’t be any mercy left in my heart; for there can never be any remnants if someone dares affect you due to their actions.”

Despite yourself, and still wanting to know the finer details about who exactly she had killed, and what sort of mess you could expect upon your return to King’s Landing, you couldn’t help the affection that courses through your veins; Daenerys, for everything that she was, and everything she used to be, had always loved you. More than you think you deserve, in all honesty, but the clear dedication she had for you was never more apparent than in this moment.

So, for her, for everything that she has done, and will continue to do, in the name for her love towards you, you decide to drop the conversation for the moment. This wasn’t a time to get into a petty squabble with your wife; not when your sons slumbered peacefully against your chest.

Daenerys, clearly on the same wave of thought, runs a slender finger across the wisps of silvery-gold hair peeking out from underneath the cloth of the twin closest to her. “What shall we call them, ñuha perzys?”

You pause, ruminating over the variety of choices; Old Valyrian was an obvious choice, something strong to showcase the roots that your sons now held to the ancient world, but what names stuck out the most?

Suddenly, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, you realize the only choice of what they could be.

“I have the perfect names in mind, Dany.” Whispers of a phantom dream wisp through your mind, echoing deep within your heart and soul, your smile turning soft as you gently stroke the soft cheeks of your twins. “If you’ll allow me the honor of bestowing them?”

Daenerys’ beautiful smile in return, violet eyes glassy with unshed tears, is all you needed to see to understand that she was more than willing to grant you whatever you wished.

“I think I’ve always known. It’s just something I haven’t been able to see until now.” You lean against your wife, nestled safely underneath her arm, forever seeking the warmth she so effortlessly provided, as you spoke to the room at large: the surrounding midwives, a wizened maester, various servants, and your most loyal guards, all standing at attention. “I’d like you all to meet Prince Rhaegon and Prince Viseryn of House Targaryen.”

And, if you allowed yourself to believe, to listen close enough, through the crashing of the waves and the rage of the wind, as well as the cheering of the people within the room, you could just make out the twin sounds of answering roars from across the Narrow Sea.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys #game of thrones imagine #got imagine #game of thrones #daenerys imagine #game of thrones imagines #house of the dragon

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klemen-tine · 10 months ago

Text

White Whale Part 2

Platonic! Yandere Batfam x Deaf!Male Reader

A continuation of this one.

https://www.tumblr.com/klemen-tine/736839222321922048/white-whale

Thoughts

Sign/Morse Code

Speaking

Trigger Warnings: Disability Discrimination and a mention of suicidal thoughts. Its like on sentence.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Y/N sat near the window, his processors off and a book on his lap. His attention was drawn to the snow falling outside and covering the ground in white, watching Damian walk Titus around the yard to experience the frozen water. Not like the giant dog hasn’t walked in snow before.

He pressed his forehead against the glass, feeling the freezing melted sand press against his skin and without a doubt making it red. His tan was slowly fading, which made him all the more depressed whenever he looked in the mirror, now resulting in him wearing long sleeves in the hopes that he wouldn’t have to see it fade faster. His finger running down the spine of his book over and over again, tracing over the embroidered words and his short fingernail picked at the strings.

Y/N pulled away from the window, before Damian could see him, and he set To Kill a Mockingbird down on the lamp table beside the small nook near the window. It was his secret little stowaway, one Y/N knows that if they wanted to, his family could find it easily. There is nowhere in this manor that is unable to be discovered by them. He thinks Alfred is helping in keeping this spot a secret. Assuring the bat family that Y/N is safe and there is no need to tear apart the library to look for him.

All the windows in the library are sealed besides three, and those have sensors on them. Even if they didn’t, Y/N wasn’t stupid. He knows that those trackers he had dug out from his body are back in him. There is one in his inner thigh, deep enough that if he were to take the same scalpel he used the first time, the chance of nicking his artery was a higher possibility than he felt was worth risking.

Sometimes, when he presses down on the soft skin, he could feel the cold metal sear his muscles and capillaries, reminding him of his captivity without the chains.

Y/N connected his external processors, and winced when the world began to make noise. There was the buzz of some lightbulbs the hummed in the air and the heater was making a thrumming noise. Before his ‘trip’ to the Dominican Republic, Y/N would have thought that this was quiet. He would have believed that this was almost silent and there was little chance of it becoming any more quiet.

Now it was just loud. Obnoxiously so.

Looking out the window once more, Y/N couldn’t help the turn of his eyebrows and the downturn in his lips. Even his safe place felt like a cage.

Walking out of the room, he zigzagged through the bookshelves and into the main room, where the large couches, the fireplace, and coffee table are. The fire was crackling and popping, the bright oranges, reds, and yellows casting a warm glow on the sofas.

“I was wondering when you’d come out.” Y/N didn’t even look at Tim, his gaze still on the flames and the burning embers of the fire. It matched the heat that was beginning to burn in his chest whenever he was around any of them. It’s embarrassing, but it took Y/N a few days to realize what exactly it was he was feeling towards them.

Anger. Y/N was so, undeniably, pissed at all of them. It got to the point that he wouldn’t even eat with them. Alfred, the kind man he is, would bring his meals to his room and Y/N would eat there. Dick once tried to drag Y/N out of his room, but he got a solid kick to his leg and Y/N’s enraged voice screeching at him to get the hell out of his room.

Even Jason was receiving the cold shoulder. When he tried to read to Y/N, taking their usual spot and position, Y/N just scrunched his nose and moved. Ignoring his twin’s call and slamming his door hard and loud enough that it made his processors ring.

Tim sighed, watching his brother stew and brew like a shaken pepsi bottle, ready to erupt with words that will stick to the skin. Y/N didn’t acknowledge him, his jaw clenching and nose scrunching, before he turned away and left the library. Tim stood up and followed him, jamming his foot in between the door and the door frame to stop Y/N from shutting him out.

“Go. Away.” Tim pushed into the door, and even though he and Y/N are about the same size, Tim is Red Robin. A vigilante used to put down villains twice his size and three times his weight. Y/N is just… Y/N. He muscled through, inviting himself within Y/N’s room which he took a scan of.

The window was closed, the bed was made, the desk clean, and the laptop locked. When he had gotten back, his laptop had been installed with monitoring software, allowing everyone access from the Batcomputer to see what Y/N was doing. His phone had been given the same thing, only the child settings were enabled. His bags, duffle, suitcases, backpacks, all of them had been taken and if he ever needed them then he would need to go to Bruce.

If Y/N had anything to say, he didn’t share it. When it was all explained to Y/N, he wasn’t even looking at them, or Bruce, and instead was staring out the window. Damian believed that the other didn't even listen to them, but the lack of questions proved he had heard them.

“We really need to talk, Y/N.”

“No, go away. I don’t want you in my room.” Tim sighed, watching Y/N seethe in front of him. He held firm, “I will leave, once we talk.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “About what? There is nothing to talk about.” Those raging E/C eyes followed Tim’s every move in his space, and if it were any other time, Tim would have been thrilled to have Y/N’s attention on him. Those eyes focused only on him.

Tim sat on the chair in front of Y/N’s desk, ignoring Y/N’s scandalized expression and instead taking in the desk. All of Y/N’s writing tools, journals, pens, and markers have been confiscated. Instead, he only had the iPad to write down his thoughts and notes for when school starts. An iPad that is monitored.

Y/N seemed to accept that Tim would not be leaving, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Scrunching his nose, he disconnected the processors, pulled them off of his head, and debated about chucking them at his brother. He tossed them on his bed. He saw Tim deflate from the corner of his vision, and when those E/C eyes filled with irritation and smugness met Tim’s blue eyes, Y/N couldn’t help the vindictive smirk that formed on his face.

‘Bruce wants you to keep those on.’

“What do you want, Tim? If you have nothing good to say then get out, I want to nap.” Tim nodded, adjusting himself so he had space to sign.

‘How long are you going to keep pouting?’ Y/N’s face scrunched and he stared at Tim in disbelief. Not in disbelief that he said that, but disbelief in that that was what he wanted to say at this point in time. He could feel a headache forming and the rage building in his chest to the back of his throat. The words scorching the sensitive skin and making him feel as if he was about to catch fire.

“I tell you to have something ‘good’ to say, and that’s what comes out of your mouth? Get out, Tim.” His brother stayed in the chair, and Y/N marched over and grabbed the collar of Tim’s shirt. Which, if he had a clearer mind, Y/N would have not done that. It only allowed for Tim to grab his wrist and maneuver them so that it was Y/N who was pinned.

Icy blue eyes stared into boiling E/C eyes. Tim sighed, releasing Y/N so he can sign, ‘It is getting out of control, Y/N. I can understand a month, but you are pushing three.’

“You can’t tell me how to feel or how long I can feel it.” Tim looked ready to throttle him, and Y/N hoped that Tim rolled his eyes enough that they got stuck like that.

‘Y/N, just what was so important about that shack that is keeping you acting like this?’ Y/N pushed Tim, startling his younger brother and if he was calmer, Y/N would also be startled. He’s never been a violent person, choosing to look away when things got bloody in a movie or show. However, the spike of rage and aggravation he felt towards Tim and the situation had made his body move before he could really process it.

He glared at Tim with a new rage, and now he had wished he had thrown those external processors as the so-called genius. He balled his fist, “It wasn’t the shack! It wasn’t the ocean, it wasn’t the country, for fucks sake Tim, it wasn’t even then whales!” Y/N reached across his desk and threw a copy of Alice in Wonderland at the other.

He ignored the annoyance when Tim caught it.

“It wasn’t any of that! It was what you all took away! It wasn’t the sun, it wasn’t the outside, it was the ability to make my own decisions!” Tears burned Y/N’s eyes and he wondered just how many nights he spent crying and wishing for a chance to escape.

“Why… why am I the only one who doesn’t have any say in how I want to live me life?” Tim set the book down on Y/N’s bed, and walked closer. Y/N stepped away, “Why am I the one who is held here like some kind of… prisoner when everyone else can go and–and do what they want?”

Tim’s heart broke, ‘No, no Y/N. You’re not a prisoner, we just want you safe and the safest place is here.’ Y/N gave him a look of exhaustion and disappointment, “What else is this then? Where else are people monitored to this extent?” Prison. Hell, Arkham doesn’t even have this level of monitoring and Gotham’ worst and craziest people were there.

Y/N knows that all of this is done out of some sick and twisted form of love, but if this was love then Y/N wanted no part of it.

“Y/N,” Tim winced. He didn’t feel bad about what they have done for Y/N, but he did feel bad that it was somewhat affecting Y/N like this. It wasn’t their intention for Y/N to feel trapped, but Y/N just doesn’t get it. The world is mean, cruel, and horrible to those who don’t fit in. Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, Bruce, the entire Bat clan knows this because they are the ones out there and witnessing this.

They all know just how awful this world can be, so why would they not want to protect Y/N from it?

“Dinner is ready.” Tim’s attention snapped to the door, where Damian stood. Y/N’s attention also turned to Damian, and the boy softened under Y/N’s hurt gaze.

‘Alfred made your favorite.’ Y/N wanted to bury his head in his hands. He didn’t want to read this conversation anymore. Pursing his lips, Y/N plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked out the barred window.

“You say I am not a prisoner… then am I a pet?” He mumbled, his voice barely above a murmur. Damian moved further in the room, so Y/N can see his hands at least.

‘Of course not. You are our most prized person.’ Damian didn’t see Y/N as a person. It is cruel to admit and he had almost been choked-out by Jason when he said it out loud. Y/N, in Damian’ eyes, was the Wayne’s family most prized possession. Next to the Batcave, the library, the Barmobile, and even Wayne Enterprises, Y/N stood next to and in front of it all. They could not function without him.

Like every prized possession, like diamonds, sapphires, and jades, they wanted to protect him. They gave him the best care they could and the best security. The difference was that jewels don’t have opinions or a desire to roam the earth. Something Y/N did have, and Damian blames the books for that wanderlust. Specifically that Moby Dick book.

When Jason took it from Y/N, Damian had to stop himself from throwing it in the fire. It was a first edition, the cover and binding still the same from when the book was first published, and if he looked closely he could see the faint line where Y/N has traced the spine of the book numerous times. Damian knows there is only one person in this world Y/N hates, which is the Joker, and Damian does not want to be added to the list should anything happen to that book.

Still, it was tempting.

Damian has read the book, and the lesson was as obvious as an East Gothamite amidst the upper echelon of Gotham. Damian knows what Y/N’s ‘white whale’ is, and he can’t help but to wonder why Y/N can’t draw the same conclusions like everyone else did.

Just like the story, Y/N will drive himself crazy trying to obtain something that they will never allow. Diamonds, sapphires, and jades are always protected by glass cases and security systems. That is how Y/N should see this.

‘Your safety is the most important thing.’

“More than my happiness?” Damian and Tim stared at Y/N with the answer clear in their eyes, but Y/N wanted to see them say it. He wanted to see them admit that they did not care for his happiness as long as he was trapped within these thick walls and gilded windows.

‘You were happy before.’ Y/N sighed, “That is because it was an illusion.” E/C eyes, dull and lacking emotion, “Tell me Dami, how can I go back to that illusion when in the morning it is the sun’s reflections off the bars on the windows that wake me up? Or the feeling of those trackers in my body replacing the collar you all want to put around my neck?”

++++

Bruce stared at the photo, taking in the smiles and the way those eyes used to shine. Y/N always had a great smile, full of his emotions and rarely ever fake. His eyes always the most expressive, and it is why Bruce found it easy to see when he was lying.

Granted, in Y/N’s defense, he’s never had a real reason to lie before. He was open with everyone about his thoughts, opinions, and desires. Bruce made it that way. Bruce swaddled him in the comfort that only he and the family could provide in order to make it so Y/N would always rely on them for that. He made it so Y/N would never have to lie, or feel the need too.

Then Y/N just had to get curious. Bruce doesn’t know who is to blame for this sudden defiance in Y/N, but he does put a lot of blame on those ocean documentaries. Even when he was young, Y/N always had a fascination for them. Watching them over and over again, reading the subtitles, memorizing them, so now he can just watch the documentaries while already knowing what is going on.

His attention turned to the photo he had bought from that photographer in the Dominican Republic. Y/N was freediving and looking like he was in his element.

Bruce didn’t feel bad for taking Y/N back, but he did feel bad about cutting a hobby short. There was denying that Y/N was a natural at this sport, and Bruce had always wanted to encourage each of his kids’ interest.

But not this one. Not one that meant Y/N had to live far from them and was dangerous. At least with vigilantism, Batman was there in case anything turned south. There was no one in the water for Y/N in case something happened. Free diving is dangerous, and the ocean is unpredictable. Bruce can’t help Y/N if he goes free diving, especially if he goes alone.

Sighing, Bruce rubbed his forehead and checked the surveillance cameras one more time. Y/N and Dick were in one of the study rooms. From what it looks like, Dick is trying to talk to Y/N who was standing next to the windows, looking away from the other.

Perhaps, it’s about time Bruce steps in. Y/N hasn’t talked to him since the day Bruce grounded him, about two months ago and the other has done a great job in staying out of Bruce’s radar. The only time Bruce has seen Y/N in person is when he goes into Y/N's room at night after patrol to make sure that he is still there. A new fear unlocked that one night, when everyone is out and Alfred is asleep, Y/N will disappear once more.

No one knows how Y/N got out that one night, and no matter how many questions were asked, Y/N never said anything. Damian had tried bargaining with him, telling him that if Y/N told them how he got out then some days of his grounding would be taken off. Y/N huffed, a bitter smile taking over his face.

Bruce rose from his desk, shutting down his computer and leaving his own study. It is about time he and his son have a conversation. One sided or not.

He walked over to the study room that Dick and Y/N were in. Halting before the door and listening to the voices coming from inside.

“Y/N, I am telling you that no one is going to believe you after the stunt you pulled.”

“But you will be with me. Dick, I just want to go to the beach. We did it all the time.”

“Mmm, and look how that ended up.”

“Me being happy for a few months.”

“You’re still on that, Y/N?” Bruce opened the heavy doors, silencing the conversation and causing two sets of eyes to land on him. Dick was leaning against the desk, and Y/N had his back to the window. Both of their faces showed their surprise and confusion, until E/C eyes flickered to the ceiling and the corners of the room where he saw the cameras. Confusion became annoyance, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the window.

Dick and Bruce made eye contact, and when Bruce nodded his head towards the door Dick didn’t fight it. He took the hint and walked out, sparing Y/N and Bruce one last look before shutting the large oak doors.

Y/N refused to look at him. Bruce walked closer, behind the desk and next to Y/N, standing next to the window.

“Y/N.” His son moved to pull out his external processors, but Bruce grabbed his wrists within his large hands, effectively stopping his son. Bruce set his jaw, “None of that, we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Then listen.” Y/N scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, glaring at Bruce. The older man sighed, but held his grip on those thin wrists, noting that Y/N had stopped tugging his arms and was in fact waiting for Bruce to start talking, “I understand that you are upset, and that you are upset at us for meddling.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, his face slowly smoothening out and his lips no longer in a pout.

Bruce sighed, releasing one of Y/N’s wrists to push aside his bangs. Gently brushing his son’s forehead and pushing the rest of the strand behind his ear, minding the processing unit resting behind Y/N’s ear.

“And I know you’re aware that if you had asked, we would have said no.” Y/N’s lips pouted once more and his eyes became a little downcast. Sadness blanketing over him and Bruce felt a bit bad for revealing that, but Y/N knows it already.

“Y/N, why are you insistent on wanting to be independent? There are millions of people in this world who still wish for their parent’s support, and thousands of people who would give up everything to have a life and opportunities that you have.” Y/N scrunched his nose, feeling guilt curl in his chest.

He knows that he is lucky. Y/N is aware of how fortunate he is to have all that he has and then some. He knows that there are people in this world who would kill to have what he has.

Yet, just like there are millions of people who want what he has, there are also millions of people who strive for their independence against their family. Millions of people who take pleasure in making choices that affect only them. Millions of people who don’t let their disabilities define their life, and learn to accept and live with them.

“I am aware that I am fortunate, that my deafness has only been a part of my life instead of completely defining it,” Y/N acknowledged, turning his attention back to outside where it was beginning to snow. He ignored his reflection, not wanting to look at the weak person in front of him.

“I am grateful for all you have done, along with Alfred and everyone else. No amount of ‘thank you’s’ will ever be enough. But Bruce–” Y/N turned his eyes once more to Bruce, E/C eyes meeting ocean blue, “– No amount of money or gadgets is going to deny the fact that I am deaf.

“I am reliant on you all for a lot of things, and you raised me that way so that I can forever depend on you. Which… I know it wouldn't bother some people but it bothers me.” Y/N’s eyes shined with unshed tears, as if the very thought of having to rely on them was shameful.

“I am not fragile, nor am I glass. I am from East Gotham, just like Jason.” Bruce is aware of that. Like every East Gothamite, the both of them had the stubbornness that made Bruce question if he had a lineage that tied him back to that part of town. Y/N is strong in his own ways, and stubborn in others. Bruce will agree on that. He will agree that Jason and Y/N are more like brothers than those Bruce has seen when blood related.

However, Jason and Y/N are not the same. They were different pieces cut from the same cloth. Jason was shaped and molded to withstand the toughest and dangerous situations, to be durable and take a beating.

Y/N was not molded like that. Y/N was refined and polished to be treated gently and kindly, to only know the kindest hands and gentlest of uses.

“And I know that compared to the rest of you, I am weaker. I… I am not strong like you or Jason, I am not fast like Damian, nor am I as smart as Tim, or charismatic like Dick.” Bruce’s grip tightened on the one wrist he was still holding, wanting to deny everything Y/N had said because he hated hearing Y/N self-deprecating himself like that. Y/N is kinder than any of them, easier to talk to, and has almost the same amount of medical knowledge that Alfred has.

Y/N is the normalcy they all crave for when they come back from a patrol or mission. He reminds them in the gentlest ways that they are human. They are not just vigilantes, not another person hiding behind a cowl, a cape, or a domino mask. He reminds them that they are brothers, friends, allies, a father (in Bruce’s case).

“But just because of that, do you really have to control every part of my life? I wish you had more faith in me to let me go and learn to be strong on my own, just like you do with everyone else.” Y/N stared up at Bruce with a hurt expression, E/C eyes staring into Bruce’s blue eyes through those lashes that normally would be able to grant Y/N anything he wished. A simple bat of those lashes and eyes would have everyone running around trying to do as he wished.

“Y/N–”

“If you can’t trust me, at least trust yourself that you taught me well enough to be by myself.” But the thing is, is that Bruce doesn’t trust himself. He’s failed so many times and he fears that this one failure will be the one that breaks him. It’ll break the boys, the girls, Alfred, him. It’ll break everyone.

Y/N doesn’t realize it, and Bruce wonders if it is because he doesn’t want to get it or he just doesn’t. He wonders if Y/N chooses not to see his importance in this family so the burden doesn’t feel as heavy. If anything should happen to Y/N, Bruce can’t guarantee the safety of Gotham anymore. He couldn’t guarantee the safety of his Robins, past and current. If Bruce couldn’t protect literally the easiest person to protect, then who was he to try and protect a city?

Y/N, sensing Bruce’s hesitation and unease, tried to withdraw his hand from Bruce’s grip and shrug off the hand that was resting on his cheek. His hopes and wants crashing onto the carpeted floor, replacing his chest with anger and disappointment. He's been feeling those two emotions a lot lately. They are carving its way in his chest like it is their new home, and he wonders if it will be. Will he hold onto these feelings for the rest of his life as he stares out these large windows and reminisces what the sun felt like on his skin and the breeze through his hair. Does the biting cold still turn his nose and cheeks red, and does the heat and humid summers still make his freckles pop and skin gleam?

“...Forget it. I… it was stupid to ask that of you.” The raging inferno of anger died, filling his chest with the smoke of its fury and his stomach warm with the dying embers. A new emotion, one he is intimately familiar with, filled him instead. It is one he knows like the back of his hand, an emotion that is more of his identity than his deafness.

Sadness.

It is like a steady stream, filling the smoking cavity in his chest with cold water, putting out the embers and making that smoke turn to steam. Burning his muscles and organs with a painful sting, and filling his person with ice cold water instead of the burning fire. Y/N knows sadness. He knows the emotion well and sometimes it reminds him of a scar. Never truly gone, just sometimes forgotten. It sits at the back of the mind, hiding behind the good times, the happy emotions, until it is accidentally hit and it draws your attention. From there, it is no longer at the back of your mind, but all you can think about.

Sadness, to Y/N, is like a scar that has marred its way across his face. Never forgotten and for the whole world to see, unless makeup and a smile is put on it.

Y/N, in the basicness of emotions, is sad. He is hurt, upset, exhausted, and sad.

“Leave me alone, Bruce.” Bruce’s grip tightened once more, and his jaw clenched. He’s finally got Y/N within his vicinity to talk, like hell he’s letting go. Y/N narrowed his eyes and pulled his arm, “Let go, Bruce.”

He pulled again, “Bruce.” The man’s iron grip never waivered, and Y/N felt the air in his lungs begin to escape quicker than it could fill the organs. He brought his other hand up to try and peel those thick fingers off his wrist, but Bruce grabbed his other hand.

“I still don’t understand why you would want to leave.” Y/N scrunched his nose, “If you can’t understand, even after I spelled it out for you, then maybe you should stop being a detective.” Bruce didn’t feel insulted or slighted at Y/N’s words, chalking it up to Y/N being upset still.

“How can I make you want to stay here?” Y/N sighed, and Bruce could feel that fight leaving his son’s body. The tension in his arms disappeared.

“How can I know that it is here that I am meant to be, when I haven’t been anywhere else?” Bruce opened his mouth, to which Y/N effectively cut him off, “East Gotham doesn’t count, and the Dominican Republic would have counted if you all hadn’t kidnapped me.”

“We didn’t kidnap you.” Y/N gawked at him, and the fight returned, “You did kidnap me! Do you need a dictionary definition of what kidnapping is?! It is the unlawful abduction, aspiration and confinement of a person against their will!”

“You. Live. Here.” Bruce gritted out and Y/N’s jaw clenched, “Well I don’t WANT to be here!” He snarled and tried once more to loosen Bruce’s grip on his wrists.

“What is it with all of you NOT comprehending that?! No matter how you look at it, no matter what angle you try to take this from, Bruce. I am a prisoner within this manor!” Y/N glared at Bruce, “Just what did I do that warranted the surveilance, the trackers, the stupid god for fucking sake imaginary collar you all want me to have on?!”

Bruce growled out, “You left when you are only meant to stay here. It is the consequences of your actions.”

“I am not your property!” Y/N snarled, “ Nor am I a pet that you can keep chained and trapped in the house!” Bruce felt something snap within him and he released Y/N’s wrist and watched the other stumble from the sudden loss of support.

Y/N righted himself, still glaring at the man. Bruce took a deep breath, “Fine.”

“Huh?”

“You want to try your luck out there, then go. I will give you an hour's head start.” Y/N stared at Bruce in suspicion, “What are you getting at?” Bruce made a show of adjusting his watch, “I will give you an hour, only one. If you can outrun us, out maneuver us, or outsmart us until sunrise, you can choose how your future plays out.”

“‘Us?’” Bruce smiled, “All of us.” Y/N wanted to bite out a ‘not fair’ comment, but found a more pressing matter, “What about the trackers?” Bruce fished out his phone, and made a dramatic show of pressing some buttons, he then showed Y/N what appeared to be a small map, like a GPS, on his phone.

“Turned off.” Y/N ignored the feeling of disgust seeing that his location was literally on their phones.

“Start running Y/N, your hour has already started.” Y/N bolted out the study room, not looking back.

Bruce stayed in the room, looking out the window as the sun began to set and the snow turned dark. Light footsteps entered the room, and Bruce could basically hear the eyebrow raise, “Not now Alfred, save it for when Y/N comes back.”

The old butler humphed, “He’s always gotten sick when playing in the snow.” Bruce hummed, “Then I guess we better make this quick.”

“Are you sure an hour was a good idea? He did sneak out of the manor before.” Ocean blue eyes filled with mirth, and he tapped his ears, “If Y/N wants to know what it’s like to be deaf, then he’ll play this game deaf. It’ll teach him how lucky he is to have his hearing.” Alfred’s eyes widened, “They turn off without his knowledge.”

“Once he reaches a certain distance, they do, and he can’t turn them back on. Only I have the power to do that.”

In the hall, suited up and waiting in the shadows, were the rest of this crooked family. Waiting for his orders, “Give him an hour, then find him.”

++++

Y/N knows this is a losing game. He knows that this game is set for his failure, and he knows that once this game is over, he will most likely never be able to set foot outside again. Not without a babysitter.

When he external processors cut out, he knows what angle Bruce is playing out and he knows that his chances of making it to sunrise have become nearly 0%. He may not be as smart as Tim or anyone else in his family, but if you live with geniuses you learn how to read between the lines.

He somehow managed to flag down a taxi before telling them where to go. Not missing the slight judgment cross their face and Y/N wonders if they know he cannot hear them. Y/N wonders if they know he is being chased and he essentially is just digging a bigger and deeper hole for himself. The bars will get thicker and the chain will be heavier, but if that is the outcome of this, then Y/N believes that this will be worth it.

He clutched the bag closer.

When he arrives at the station, he knows his hour is up and he knows that Barbara is watching him through the cameras. She is watching him buy his ticket, and is retelling everything to his siblings. He knows this because in front of him is Nightwing, drawing a crowd and making everyone look around for the villain.

‘Going somewhere?’

‘Only temporarily.’

‘Temporarily is too long Y/N, let's go back home. Alfred has a peach cobbler ready.’ Nightwing held his hand out as if Y/N would actually take it. Which is fine, because Y/N knows through the giant circular mirror hanging from the ceiling, that Spoiler and Red Robin are behind him.

Y/N stared at the hand once more, and he wondered if this is what it feels like to know the path you should take and still choose the other one. Taking a deep breath, Y/N said the one word that would get everyone running. It would have people scrambling and trying to seek cover and get out of a place that made everyone have a close vicinity to each other.

“Joker!” Like someone shouting fire, the world was set into motion and Y/N watched as his view got obstructed by the rush of people. He disappeared within the crowds, dodging idle hands and ducking into the crowd. He may not be able to hear, but he can feel the panic that everyone else was feeling. Y/N saw parents pick their kids up, lovers grabbing each other’s hands, and strangers pushing and shoving other strangers.

He rushed down the escalator, towards the Amtrak that had his destination written all over it. Y/N didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Nightwing right behind him. He can feel the heavy and frantic gaze and if he could hear, without a doubt his name would be filling the air.

His heart picked up at the sight of the doors closing, and through some luck, he squeezed in at the last minute. The metal shutting behind him, and large latex covered hands slammed into the glass. Dick’s frantic face stared at him, and Y/N couldn’t stop the smile from creeping on his face.

How it must feel for the rabbit to slip through the Hunter’s fingers.

When the train began moving, Y/N wiggled his fingers in a mockery of a goodbye. He now sees why Jason loves teasing Dick. Dick’s angry expression really does tickle a sore spot in Y/N. Choosing a spot near the windows, Y/N prepared himself for the 10 hours train ride. The sun will not be rising when he gets there, but he never expected to make it to sunrise. Peering into the duffle bag next to him, Y/N gave a bitter smile and turned his attention back to the passing sight of Gotham city.

In the Batcave, everyone was pacing and figuring out the best way to do this.

“Are you sure that is where he is going?”

“For the last time, I saw his ticket, yes. He is going there!” Jason winced at Barbara’s raised voice and he grit his teeth in irritation. He massaged his temples, “Why North Carolina? What is even there?”

“The beaches.”

“No shit you little spawn, but which one.” Nightwing didn’t bother reproaching his brother, and instead tightened his fist. He was so close to grabbing his brother. So close.

The very knowledge that his little brother had barely escaped him stoked two different emotions in him. Pride in knowing that his brother was fast, fast enough to get away from him, and irritation because he did slip through Nightwing’s fingers. Batman didn’t seem bothered.

In fact he looked awfully relaxed for someone whose son had just hopped on a train to North Carolina. Nightwing glared at him, “You know where he’s going.” Batman shrugged, “An idea.”

“Where?”

“Y/N took his freediving gear, and there’s only one beach in North Carolina that is worth freediving.”

++++

Y/N felt the water encompass him, hugging his limbs and freeing him of gravity. The light attached to his forehead illuminates the sea and sees marine life at night. The train ride had been long and restless, but he did manage to at least sleep for 4 hours, before his nerves woke him up once more.

It was still dark, but at 4 am in the morning, it would be stupid to assume there would be any light. Navigating to the pier at Wrightsville Beach had been difficult, constantly looking over his shoulders to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Then there was the actual jumping off of the pier that if anyone saw would have the cops racing over.

Finally though, he was here. Swimming in the water and just letting himself be. It was a poor replication of freedom, but if this will be all he is allowed he’ll take it. Who knows how long it'll be before he could do something like this. Y/N isn’t stupid. He knows that Bruce knows where he is at.

He knows his siblings are on their way over. Probably letting him get off the Amtrak first before jumping in the Batplane, or maybe even the Batboat. Y/N surfaced, and took a deep breath before diving below the surface once more.

God, this was all a terrible joke but here it was happening. Y/N could have never imagined his family doing this. When he was younger, he chalked up Bruce’s need to constantly check on him as anxiety because it was the first time the man had a completely normal person in the house. Jason had always been touchy, and then Dick came along who would ruffle their hair. Tim would hold his forearm and Damian would follow him where he went.

It wasn’t weird at all. That was Y/N’s normal, until he went to college and started making friends. Friends who were mature enough to see past his lack of hearing and shared their own sibling experiences.

Experiences that didn’t match Y/N’s.

His little trip outside the country only proved it, and Y/N wondered if it was a bad thing he decided to do in person classes instead of online. If he did online, he would live in the fantasy that his family was normal and they loved him as a person. No red flags would be waving because Y/N wouldn’t even know they are flags.

He felt the water around him begin to vibrate and from the way the fish started spazzing out, Y/N knew his time was limited. How funny it would be if he never rose to the surface again.

Sinking a bit further, he looked towards the surface and watched as the water distorted and ripples began to form, each one acting as a timer. Closing his eyes, he held his breath as long as he could, until his lungs began to ache. Lightheadedness caused him to almost inhale water.

Rising to the surface, he could see the ominous black shape and the people looking over the edge. Here he was swimming back to his captors’ arms. Like a mouse headed for the trap. A fish into a net.

Y/N has never hated himself more then when he took that breath of air and met the sight of cowled Batman, and masked Robin and former Robins.

‘Ready?’

“Even if I wasn’t you’d still take me.”

‘You lost Y/N, get out of the water.’ He accepted the ladder thrown down to him, and as soon as he was within arm distance, Red Hood and Red Robin hoisted him over the edge of the boat and it was Robin handing him a towel. Taking off his snorkel and flippers, Y/N let himself be guided to the inside, where an unmasked Dick sat at one of the tables with two cups of coffee. Red Hood pushed Y/N into the seat, squishing his body against the window as he laid his giant self on him. Sighing in relief and going limp.

Y/N didn’t mind. From his seat, he watched the sunrays begin to slowly peak over the horizon. The warm glow gently illuminating the darkness, the sun not in sight yet but it’s very beginnings making itself known. Y/N wonders if one day, he can fall into the illusion of once more having a choice in his decisions. That there will be multiple paths in front of him instead of just one.

A large hand patted his head, and Y/N felt disgusted that he welcomed it. Back to normalcy. He has to go back to normalcy. If he didn’t, Y/N really does believe he will go crazy. His fate has been chosen from the start, and he knows that there is little chance of changing it. He knows that all of this comes from a sick and twisted form of love, and Y/N wonders if this is the type of love he has always been destined for.

The worst part is if given the choice to start over, Y/N wouldn’t stop himself from meeting Jason. He wouldn’t stop Jason from stealing the Batmobile tires, and he wouldn’t stop Jason from being Robin. He would try and stop Jason from dying, but he wouldn’t stop Tim from being Robin, or anything really. Y/N loves Jason, he loves his family, he loves their flaws and vices, even if it means letting go of somethings. His desire to be on his own was temporary anyways, only a few years and he would come back.

It was never good to have a ‘white whale.’ That is what Moby Dick taught everyone who read it.

If freedom was his white whale, then his family are the whalers. Killing it and completely destroying anything that made him want to chase it.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Honestly.... I'm not to sure about the ending.

1K notes · View notes

thesparklingwriter · 3 months ago

Text

an unexpected surprise

tags: smut, omegaverse, afab! reader, omega!reader, alpha!zhongli, consensual somno, pet names, reader is in heat, zhongli is in rut, reader pregnancy in afterword, idk if genuine excitement to start a family counts as breeding kink, I STILL think this is somewhat fluffy if not vanilla

word count: 4k (side note what the fuck)

a/n: is celeste doing a good job of hiding the breeding kink or no

masterlist | taglist

It’s scarily easy to forget, you concede. It’s too easy to just question why your stomach is killing you all of a sudden. Or why that stack of pillows in the living room is calling out your name like a record player on repeat. Or why letting Zhongli go on that work trip last week almost made you want to fall to your knees and beg him not to.

But once you realise it's your heat breaking, it's almost like your body doubles down. With Zhongli returning from his trip within two days, there’s really no point in worrying him with the information. His ever-righteous alpha urges would have him running home in a heartbeat, and you can't be responsible for that.

So you call in sick to work for the next week, and if anyone knows why, they don’t question you, and you resign yourself to a horrible few days by yourself. You wear Zhongli’s clothes in the hopes that enough of his scent is left behind to cool your impulses a little. Still, it’s only so long before silk is the only fabric your clammy skin can bear, and since his pyjamas have been freshly laundered, there’s really no point in even trying.

You reluctantly switch to your own clothes again, a silk night dress you've adored since the day Zhongli bought it for you, and focus on building a nest in the spare room to distract yourself. It works so well, in fact, that you wonder how Zhongli will ever fit between the pillows you've piled up —you subconsciously only made it big enough for yourself. The spare room is good because it's the smallest—in fact, it's so small that calling it a room is almost an exaggeration. It was initially an overzealous store cupboard that you ended up forming an affinity to during your heats, and while it was never a badly kept room, Zhongli couldn’t bear the thought of you using a cupboard when you were most vulnerable, so he had it remodelled. It was worth it to him, even if you were only using it 6 times a year.

This would be the third out of six heats this year, and you congratulate yourself on making it halfway through the year without keeling over and calling it quits. But making it through this one would be tricky. One of the many advantages of married life is not having to go through heat alone, and if Zhongli doesn't return home in time, you might explode.

You try to sleep off the anxiety first, surrounded by cooling silk sheets and everything in the house you can find that smells like your alpha, and it works for the first few hours of the night until a heat cramp rips through you and stirs you awake. Zhongli is many things, but above all, he is a doting alpha, and since he has your permission to help you in any way he sees fit during your heats, he has a very good way of satisfying that part of you before a heat cramp can even manifest itself. But since you haven’t experienced a heat cramp to this extent in what feels like years, you find yourself doubled over and whimpering in pain. The waves of agony even have you forgetting how it was that you managed your heats before you found Zhongli and his cool hands and doting kisses and perfect co—

It doesn’t help to think about him, you realise, as another wave of pain shoots through you. If you can make it downstairs to just grab a hot drink, maybe your symptoms will subside enough for you to just take matters into your own hands like you used to, and then you can decide how you want to proceed. So you wait until the waves of pain are retreating, and you take the opportunity to rush downstairs and rifle through Zhongli's stash of teas. He has labelled them meticulously, and even in your dazed, heat-addled state, you know to not disturb it too much.

You find one that seems to be labelled appropriately and do the worst job of preparing yourself a cup to drink. You know he'd have an aneurysm if he saw you, but times are tough, and he’s not here to help you. He would probably be even more offended by the way you chug the drink, not even pausing to appreciate the notes and intricacies of the flavour as you trudge back upstairs and hope you find the energy for one orgasm to get you through the night.

It's tricky during this phase. Your body only desires carnal pursuits, but your mind is so riddled with anxiety that it feels wrong when you slide your underwear down past your knees, and your other hand gently brushes your nipple. It feels awkward to slip your fingers between your legs, to pretend that it's him who’s fucking you with his fingers, but it works, so you can’t complain. You tell yourself that you’ll clean up before you fall back asleep, but the hours of no sleep are catching up to you, and you fall asleep as you are.

When you wake up again, it's not from a heat cramp or because you need to use the toilet, it's because your heightened senses can hear the front door opening. You take a minute to listen before you panic—Zhongli isn't supposed to be back for another day, but when you realise that it's his steady but hurried footsteps that you hear, the tension leaves your body, and you relax. You don't have the strength to go to him, so you just hope that he finds you here, and he does.

He pushes your door open and glances inside, spotting you curled up in your tiny nest, stressed and anticipating another wave of pain. He feels horrible.

“Oh, my love,” he whispers, walking over to you and taking you in his arms. He carefully nips at your scent glands first and is relieved that from the way you smell, you're in your late preheat, so even though you may have suffered up to this point, it hasn't been the worst your body has to offer. A grateful hum slips from your lips as your eyes close in bliss, and his cool hands against your stomach seem to calm the heat cramp that was building up. “Love, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were coming back anyway,” you reply, clutching at his shirt and capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss. “No need to bother you.”

“There was every need to bother me,” he whispers, gently adjusting the pillows around you on the bed and stripping off layer after layer after layer. He starts with his gloved hands, and the sight has you clenching on nothing, but you're just happy to finally have him to yourself despite your frustration. “You’re my wife, my mate, my omega. It is my job to take care of you. First and foremost.”

He reaches under you to pick you up, but you protest, grabbing his forearm. “I don’t want to move.”

Zhongli is hit with this unyielding wave of desire, so much so that he has to swallow his thoughts of you round with his child down before he speaks.

“Little love,” he shoots back, gently stroking your hair. “I have to take the contraceptive. Should I leave you here?”

“Don’t,” You say. You’d agreed that the next time your heat and his rut coincided, you’d be more thsn happy to explore the idea of having a child, but with the painful realisation that it might not sync up as fast as you want it to, you’re not holding out on luck.

“Beloved,” Zhongli shoots back, devastatingly beautiful, as you pull out the ribbon that holds his hair back. The image in his mind from earlier shoots back into his mind as he quickly contemplates whether he can take your words as they are, given the stage of your heat. If you were further along, you might say anything to get him inside of you again, but right now, he doesn’t think that’s the case. He takes your hand and gently kisses the inside of your wrist, a familiar action that makes you smile lightly.

“Don’t take it.” you repeat. “I don’t want you to take it.” You gently tug the ends of his hair to pull him closer to you, suddenly over-aware of the fact that your scent glands are begging for his attention. “Please.”

“I don’t want you to have regrets later,” Zhongli says quietly, and this time, when he leans in to nip at your neck again, something in his scent tickles the back of your throat, rich and almost spicy, and it makes you cough. His eyes shoot up to yours as realisation dawns on the both of you.

Zhonglis ruts are less common then your heats, with him experiencing only four a year compared to you. And if the last time they coincided was 2 cycles ago…

“Hm,” Zhongli mutters as you pull him into your nest. “That seems to explain things.” He had returned home early from this work trip for a multitude of reasons. At first, it was your reaction to him leaving, and then it was the dreams and constant thoughts of you that proved difficult to handle during important funeral proceedings, and then it was the thoughts of how you would look pregnant the moment he realised you were in heat. He should have realised sooner, instead of ignoring it and letting you suffer thus far.

“Sleepy?” he asks you, as you bury your face into his chest. But the most you do in the way of a response is make a soft humming sound, your omegan senses calmed by the knowledge that your alpha is close. He is upset by the fact that you didn't feel you could reach him when you needed him, but he knows now you need him more than you need an ultimatum. But for the next few hours, it seems like it’s just a waiting game. He is grateful his rut hasn't set in fully, or else the way you nuzzle into his chest might have driven him half crazy.

He gently strokes your hair, unable to tear his eyes from you for a single second—not only because you're the epitome of beauty to him, but also because he has been away, and he wants to take stock of everything. You once joked that he’d probably notice if a strand of hair on your head went missing, and although he’d laughed it off, he wouldn't be surprised if he could.

Your scent slowly begins to shift to something more sweet as you claw at your husband. You're not awake yet, and you won't be for a while, but you’d given Zhongli explicit permission to do whatever he needed to keep you happy during your heats, and he is always eager to please.

Even still, Zhongli takes his cues from you—if you’re grabbing at his face, he’ll kiss you for as long as you want him to, until you escalate things in your heat-addled slumber. And you do, breathy moans punctuating the kiss until you can take no more, and you're grabbing at his hips.

“What do you want?” Zhongli whispers, as he gently rolls you over onto your back. He’s been ignoring his almost painful hardness in favour of doting on you, but he refuses to forgo his manners the moment sex is on the table.

You whine at him, clawing at him some more, and he chuckles, gently pulling your nightgown up to your waist. He clicks his tongue at the sight of you, practically dripping for him, your underwear nowhere to be found, and as much as he wants to dip his tongue into you, he knows it's cruel to play with you in such ways.

“I know, love. I know.” He whispers to you as he gently enters you. You’re so wet that there's almost no resistance, and the breathy moan that slips out of you is almost too much for him to bear. His mind is almost immediately flooding with thoughts of fucking you into the mattress until you’re both so tired that it will take days to recover, but he would never do anything like that unless you were awake. He may have your permission, but he has his own morals.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers as you pull him closer, your head thrown back in silent bliss. Your response is in the way you clench around him, the slight whine in your quiet moans, and the way you dig your nails into his back. Gods, he loves it when you do that. And although it drives him near crazy, he keeps a steady pace until he feels his knot growing. He nips at your scent glands again, using the opportunity to whisper in your ear—filthy words that have you orgasming almost involuntarily, and the way you clench on him as his knot settles into place triggers his.

He pulls you to the side so the both of you can lie down comfortably, and he is convinced that the satisfied look on your face as his knot keeps all of his cum safe inside you is enough to keep it there for another half hour.

His estimations turn out to be correct, and by the time you begin to stir, his knot is still going strong. He talks to you as you wake, gently reminding you to not move too suddenly. You’re dazed but, more than anything, grateful for him as you pull him tighter.

“Thank you,” is the first thing you say when you wake up, gently planting a kiss on his cheek. The action, albeit mostly innocent, makes his cock twitch inside you, and you've regained enough of your sanity to laugh. “Rut?”

“It seems so.”

“Did you…?” your question trails off as if the process of asking is too tiresome for you. If he had, you would understand, but your anxiety is understandable. If he had taken it, it would mean you would both have to wait again, and Zhongli would be lying if he said that the idea of being a father would be unfavourable to him.

“As per our agreement, I did not.”

The smile you give him is so… perfect that Zhongli has to look away before his knot returns with a vengeance, and he opts for pulling you into a hug, the cold silk of your dress against his chest. He wants to bathe you before the next round of cramps set in, otherwise, you will be clammy and irritable, and he learned very quickly that you cannot bear any discomfort that he cannot fix by fucking you during your heats.

He wants to run a hand over your belly, but decides against it, for fear of jinxing things, instead settling on pressing multiple kisses to your head.

“How do you feel?” he asks you. He’s not entirely sure how far into your preheat you were before he returned home and he’s worried that he hasn’t been able to help all of the symptoms as a result.

“Warm,” you whisper. “How come I’m still wearing this?”

“As you remind me every cycle, doing anything but what an omega in heat explicitly asks of you is essentially torture. You didn't ask me to take it off, so I didn’t.”

You pout at him, and he laughs gently at you. His knot has deflated, so he slowly sits up and pulls you into his arms. “Will you fight me if I offer to bathe you?”

You shake your head no, lifting your arms above your head as he carefully drags your nightdress off. He decides to save himself the hassle of trying to get it completely clean and just get you a new one.

The minute your skin is exposed to the cold air, you wrap your arms around your chest, and Zhongli takes personal offence to that, kissing your arms until you move them, and then kissing your breasts, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipples. From the way your nails dig into him, he realises that's just about as far as you’ll let him go with the teasing, so he picks you up and takes you to the bath. It’s easy when you’re as pliant as you are now—any attempt you make to push back is easily combatted with words of praise and a gentle kiss to your head, and before you know it, you’re clean and dry and pressed up against your lover’s cool skin.

“Are you still certain about this?” Zhongli strokes your hair again, gently scratching your scalp in a way that sends satisfying shivers down your spine. “I can still take the contraceptive if you want.”

“No. I want this with you,” you reiterate, pulling him into another kiss. You expect him to kiss you back softly, the way he usually does, but the fact he’s in rut has slipped your mind, and the way he captures your lips in a fiery kiss has a wave of need rushing through you. You gasp at the way his teeth graze your neck, the way his hands rest against your skin, still so gentle despite the fact you know he wants to be anything but.

A heat cramp comes over you so suddenly that Zhongli barely has the chance to register the change in your scent, but he’s quick to respond to your whimper. It’s cheeky of him, he knows, but he gently slides a hand up your thigh and lets it play with your clit for little more than a few seconds. Judging by how drenched you are, if he’d allowed himself to play for any longer, you might have taken matters into your own hands.

Zhongli whispers your name, although it comes out as more of a growl than a whisper, and you know he’s asking for your permission to take you the way he wants to—the way he craves. And even though he knows you’ll be fine, in fact, when you’re in heat you’re most compatible for a mate in rut, he feels the need to check. So when you reach for him and bite on his neck as hard as you physically can, he takes that as an okay.

It takes every single piece of patience he has to gently place your legs over his shoulder, and slowly sink himself into you. It takes even more for him to maintain a slow pace when you’re looking up at him like that, even more so when you moan his name in the breathy way he loves so dear.

“Safe word?” he asks through gritted teeth, and only when you repeat it back to him does he let himself relax a little. He slides a pillow under your hips, before whispering: “Brace yourself, love.” And even though he warns you, you’re still shocked by how hard his next thrust is—if you hadn't been in heat, it probably would have been enough to send you over the edge. His hands grip your waist so hard that in the back of your mind, you're convinced that it’s going to bruise, but the rest of your thoughts are blank, a dull hum in your head where words are supposed to be.

“Are you still alright?” he asks, as he moves his hands from your waist to your wrists.

“More. please, more,” you reply, and he obliges, quietly pleased with the way your pleas shift from words to loud moans and desperate whimpers.

“You want me to breed you, don’t you?” his voice is impossibly steady, his eyes trained on you in a way that stops you from looking elsewhere, even after he thrusts into you so hard that you want to throw your head back. Your whispered please is so faint that he almost doesn't hear it, but he does feel you clench desperately around him, and he's almost disappointed that he’s knotting you so soon.

The way you look at him is unfair. The way you scream his name as you orgasm is unfair, the way you close your eyes in bliss as he cums inside you is so. Fucking. Unfair. How is he ever supposed to win against you? You could ask him for the world, and he would create it for you.

“Is it safe to assume you’re satisfied now?” he asks you when you’re once again capable of speech.

“For now,” you respond. And even though you know it's bad to keep things from him, you don’t tell your husband that you don’t feel another heat cramp for the rest of the week.

~~~

“It has been less than a second since I stepped over the threshold of this house and you are already jumping on me.” Zhongli laughs as you barrel into his arms. He notes you smell different, but he can’t pick up what he is. As he picks you up, he thinks that you're slightly heavier than usual, but that could just be his muscles being fatigued from moving packed boxes of paperwork all day.

“You’re home early,” you smile, looking down at him. He manages to get his shoes off and walk you over to the living room, where you curl up next to him on the sofa. You have been increasingly affectionate as of the last few months and increasingly horny too, but you have those phases every so often, so Zhongli does not question it.

He very quickly realises you’re wearing the replacement of the silk nightgown he got rid of during your last heat. He made sure it was a one-to-one replacement, but it fits differently on you now. Not a bad difference, it’s a perfect difference, he concludes.

“I missed you, my love.” he kisses you softly. “More than should be humanely possible.”

“I missed you more.” you grin. You sit between his legs, your back against his chest, your head tilted lightly to the side so he can kiss your neck the way he always does. But this time, he hovers before he kisses you, and you use his sudden pause to take his hands and place them on your belly.

Zhongli’s smile is peaceful. he likes the quietness of being with you, especially when youre so soft against him, and you smell so…sweet. sweeter than usual. more perfect than normal.

he blames his reignited obsession on his rut somehow. it isn’t his first, obviously, but it’s the first time he’s been able to truly spend it with a partner. he doesn’t know what else to blame it on, nothing else has changed.

except for when the fruit vendor looked at you the wrong way and he almost wanted to rip the man’s throat out. or when then bakery didn’t have the bread you wanted, and it made you cry and he wanted to destroy it there and then. and maybe crying over the bread was a little melodramatic, but it was about the time where your heat returned, so he couldn’t judge you.

but he could judge himself for wanting to resort to such barbarism.

“how have you been, love?”

“tired. hungry. bored.” you retort, your hands falling over his on your belly.

“then we should find something for us to do.”

“i think we should look at remodelling the fourth room,” you grin, “it’s going to be a really boring 6 months if we use your idea of fun as a bench mark,” you sigh.

“The room that conjoins ours?” Zhongli replies, ignoring your mild insult. his body seems to understand your words faster than he does, as his thumbs gently start rubbing your belly. “so you don’t want an office anymore?”

Your husband's brain has been replaced with a rock, you decide.

“Li,” you sigh. “how you have survived so long whilst ignoring your instincts is beyond me.” you tilt you head up so you can look at him as you deliver the news. “i’m pregnant.”

You feel his breathing pause for a second, and the silence that descends between you is warm and comfortable as the words register.

“You’re…” Your husband is speechless. He sits up slowly, his eyes trained on you.

“mmhmm,” you reply, as he gently cradles your face and kisses you softly. it’s only when he pulls away from you that you realise he’s crying.

“oh, my darling,” you smile, pulling him into another hug. “you’ll set me off.”

he pulls away to look at you, eyes shining with unshed tears and eternal love.

“i suppose celebrations are in order,” he says quietly, pressing kisses into your hair, your cheeks, and your neck as you giggle at him. "I am certain you’ll be a great mother, deserving of every praise.”

You smile. “And you’ll be a great father.” you reply. “The best father our child could ever ask for.”

notes: i have plenty of things to blame this on but I wont even start. can smut be fluffy...? is that a thing? is this enough to make u guys forgive my absence ?

#[🚨]—restricted fiction #minors dni #zhongli smut #genshin smut #omegaverse #alpha zhongli #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli fanfic #genshin zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #genshin impact

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fastandcarlos · 4 months ago

Text

Knight In Shining Armour : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: you’re all for carlos protecting you, but the extent that carlos will go to do so even leaves you feeling slightly fearful of what he’s truly capable of

Your eyes went wide in horror as Carlos turned away from you, holding on tightly to his hand. Drops of blood were already hitting the floor as Carlos shielded himself from you momentarily, refusing to let you see just how much it hurt. You rushed over to him regardless, resting your hand against his back as you tried to hide the frustration that was on your face.

“What were you thinking?” You scolded, head shaking in disbelief as Carlos smiled weakly back at you.

He bit down on his bottom lip as he tried his best to mask the pain, “he gave me no choice, what was I supposed to do?”

“Not hit him,” you shouted, throwing your arms up in the air. You went to speak again but you were interrupted by a member of Ferrari staff bringing across a medical kit to help you sort Carlos out.

“He’s been flirting with you for weeks, I bet he probably doesn’t even work here,” Carlos tried to explain, “I can only stand back for so long.”

You took a hold of Carlos’ hand, brushing your fingertips over it gently, “if that’s what he was doing, which I don’t think he was, this isn’t the answer to fixing it.”

Carlos understood your frustration, but he was desperate to stand up for you and your relationship. His apologetic eyes watched as you wiped over the wound, making sure that it was clean, despite Carlos hissing in pain.

“I appreciate that you care,” you softly spoke, breaking the slight tension between you both, “but you don’t always have to be my knight in shining armour.”

Carlos glanced across at you, “I do, I’m your boyfriend.”

“And look where that’s got you today,” you huffed, pointing back at his hand, “you’ll be lucky if you can still drive this weekend with this.”

The realisation finally seemed to hit Carlos as he sunk back in his seat. “It would still be worth it, knowing that I was able to protect you.”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty as Carlos seemed to throw away his career with his words, confidently assuring you that you were the priority. He really would do anything to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

Carlos could tell you were worrying as you remained silent, “I’m fine, really.”

You wanted to believe him, but you just couldn’t. As much as you adored Carlos, you were scared by how much he loved you and the extent to which he would go to protect you and keep you safe.

“I don’t want to be the reason you hurt yourself,” you admitted, closing up the medical kit. Your voice was the softest it had been since Carlos took a swing, making him look back across at you. Your heart was racing as you spoke, unable to block out the fear as to what might have happened if Carlos wasn’t pulled away by members of the Ferrari garage.

Carlos understood how you were feeling, his reaction had surprised himself too. It was a situation he never found himself in before, he’d never felt threatened, but when he did, instinct kicked in. It was almost as if he just saw red, trying his best to find the quickest thing to do in order to fix the situation.

Only Carlos hadn’t quite fixed the situation, because now he had you beside him wondering where that side of your boyfriend even came from.

You knew that Carlos had all good intentions, but knowing that he hit someone, for you especially, left a sour taste in his mouth. He was one of the golden boys of F1, charming, kind, considerate to everyone, but that persona that everyone loved seemed to disappear so quickly when trouble arose.

After a few moments of silence, Carlos stood himself up from where he sat, soon realising that you had nothing left to say to him, deciding to give you a bit of space to think instead.

It wasn’t quite the reaction that Carlos was expecting though.

Whilst he didn’t imagine you throwing yourself into his arms, he had hoped you’d be a bit more understanding. He did it for you, even if it didn’t seem that way, a way that you certainly weren’t appreciative of right now.

You found yourself back in Carlos’ drivers' room after taking a walk around the paddock, feeling as if everyone’s eyes were on you. You weren’t actively avoiding Carlos, but not bumping into him was a bit of a relief.

The room was untouched from how you both had left it earlier in the day, random bits of merch were scattered around, the sofa at the back of the room still draped with blankets, one of which you wrapped around your frame.

With the four walls surrounding you, you finally allowed yourself to take a moment. A tear fell down your cheek, which you quickly wiped away, throwing your head back.

You lost count of how long you were in the room, waves of fear, pride, nerves washing over you. Your mind was spiralling out of control as you tried to piece together the various pieces of the emotional jigsaw you were fixing.

The only thing that brought you back was Carlos creeping into the room, smiling weakly as he greeted you. His hand looked a lot better, bandage around it to try and protect the wound, hiding the faint colours of purple that you’d already noticed earlier.

“Hi,” you whispered as Carlos tentatively took a seat beside you.

There was still a slight tension as Carlos turned to face you. “I thought you might be in here, do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” you spoke, resting your head in your hands, “this is your room more than it is mine.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos spoke as soon as you fell silent.

“You’re an idiot,” you scolded, but Carlos already knew that. “I don’t even know what you were thinking doing that today.”

Carlos shrugged back across at you, “it was stupid, but at that moment it felt like the right thing to do in order to protect you.”

“I don’t always need protecting,” you reminded him, your voice getting louder with every word you spoke. “I especially don’t need protecting if that’s the way that you’re going to do it.”

Carlos understood your frustrations, he knew you felt let down by his actions, but now he was scared too. “I’m sorry that I let you down, but I was scared too love. I was terrified that this guy was going to start getting involved with you, and then I just wouldn’t have known what to do.”

Your brows knitted together, “do you really think if anyone else was interested in me that I would pay them any attention when I’ve got you here with me?”

“I know, and that’s on me,” Carlos whispered, running his hands over his face. “Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m the one that needs to stop watching over their shoulder all the time.”

You shifted your body so that you were facing Carlos too, making sure that your full attention was on him as he began to open up to you.

“Everyone thinks that I’ve got it all, the career, the partner, the supportive family, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t worry too,” Carlos confessed, his voice a little shaky. “I still worry most days that something is going to give, that something is going to get taken away from me, and the thing that I’d hate to get taken the most is definitely you.”

You nodded, taking in every word that Carlos said to you. “I never imagined you’d feel like that, I guess I was one of those people that was under the illusion that you were living the dream too. Do you really worry that someone’s going to come and take me away from you?”

“Everyday.”

“Oh, Carlos,” you whispered, feeling your heart break. You moved closer towards him, taking a hold of his unbandaged hand.

“I know it sounds stupid, but it scares me sometimes how in love I am with you, and I worry that someday all of this is going to be taken away from me. I’ve never been happier than I am with you,” Carlos told you, tightening his grip on your hand.

You smiled weakly as his tearful eyes looked across at you. “If that’s ever how you feel, you’ve just got to come and tell me, don’t act like this. I didn’t recognise you earlier when you hit him, that’s not the Carlos that I know and love, it was like watching a stranger.

It was something that Carlos knew he’d have to spend a long time making up to you, knowing that his actions left you frightened earlier was a guilt that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of for a while. He knew he’d let his own insecurities eat away at him for too long, unable to hold it back today and finally letting them tip over the edge and get him into trouble.

You could see it too, seeing him silently scold himself as he let the voices in his head get the better of him.

“I love that you love me and want to protect me, but I only ever want you to do that when you’re safe,” you asked of him, “not getting yourself into a situation like this.”

Carlos nodded at your request, “I don’t ever want to end up like this again, my hand hurts more now than it does after a crash.”

Your eyes rolled as a snigger came from Carlos. “You’re going to be feeling the effects of that for a while, luckily for you, you’ve got a partner who knows a thing or two about helping you through injuries.”

Carlos’ head came down to rest against your shoulder, “I think I’m just lucky that I’ve got you, in whatever situation we find ourselves.”

Your eyes were drawn to the bandage on Carlos’ hand, placing your free hand gently over it. Knowing that was underneath was done for you hurt, knowing Carlos had put himself through that just for you left a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Promise me that you’ll talk to me,” you asked him, wanting to hear it one final time from him, “tell me things, that’ll still make you my knight in shining armour.”

Carlos nodded back at you straight away, “I promise I’ll tell you anything, no matter how stupid it might be.”

“Nothing is stupid if it keeps you safe,” you reminded him, leaning your head back to press a kiss against the top of his, “that’s all I want for you.”

“I know, and that’s all that I want for you too.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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back2bluesidex · 2 months ago

Text

Slide - That Night - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.1k+

Summary:

"I know that you've never been this high Promise, baby, I'll take you to heaven if you want it I'll take you to heaven if you die"

Alternatively,

You would give yourself up willingly again and again if it means Yoongi will stay close to you. for whatever purpose.

Warnings: angst, somewhat explicit smut, drinking, Yoongi is being kinda talkative and also lowkey confessing things. Reader and Yoongi both are quiet people.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

A/N: This is another chapter from The Past. This chapter is important for understanding Yoongi and Gyuri's break-up scenario and why reader would make choices she would make. hope I make sense.

Taglist requests are closed for now

Read the main chapter from The Present in Patreon.

“I said no to the engagement.” Yoongi reveals, as quiet as vapor. You might have missed it if it wasn’t for your utmost attention trained on him and only him.

It is probably in the middle of the second or third beer when he lets himself go. Or more like opens himself up for you to see.

Ever since that night, Yoongi seems to have gotten comfortable with your presence. He has loosen up much more in these couple of weeks than he did in the years of knowing you. It makes you feel good, makes you feel important.

Even though you have always been curious about what went wrong in his and Gyuri’s exemplary relationship, you never pried. Of course, it isn’t your place to ask. You don’t even know if you have that right or not.

But you always waited. And it seems like your patience was worth it all.

“I wasn’t ready.” Yoongi continues automatically. You still choose to stay silent, let him decide the pace of the conversation. “It’s not that I didn’t love her. I loved her. Shit. I love her and I always will. But something about sharing a life with someone else always freaks me out. Marrying, having kids - all these, freaks me out.” he groans.

“I loved her. Shit. I love her and I always will” these are the words that you register the most. You replay these in the back of your mind and let your heart weep in silence.

Now he laughs, and you find it tough to decide whether it is generated from pain or sarcasm.

“She said that my decision didn’t even shock her, that I have been aloof and distant all these times. That I made her feel like she was the only one in the relationship and she knew this was coming. And you know what? She was right. I am like that. I always have been. It’s just sad, you know..” he inhales a sharp breath, “it’s just sad that she couldn’t love me for who I am.”

How ironic. You think.

Yoongi’s quiet, aloof, reserved persona is what had drawn you towards him.

“I think you are intriguing like this. Cold, aloof, distant, it all makes you more and more lovable.” you confess and right after a moment you regret. You try to blame it on the alcohol right when Yoongi laughs again.

This time his laugh is more of the amused kind. Is he really amused with your admission?

“You find me intriguing because you are the very same. Cold, aloof, distant and… loveable.” Yoongi voices, the last bit of smile disappearing from his voice.

You never thought like this. You never thought how similar you and yoongi are and how that could have played a big part in producing the feelings that you harbor for him.

Now that he has pointed it out - you wonder - if opposites attract then this means Yoongi will never feel the same for you.

“I guess.” you chug down the rest of your beer, subsiding the sinking feeling of your heart.

“Have you ever been in love?” Yoongi asks now. His eyes pierce through yours.

“I don’t think I have.” you admit. You divert your eyes from his, there is something swirling behind his irises and you think that phenomena would swallow you up alive.

“What about a heartbreak? Ever had one?” Yoongi places his next question as if you are playing trivia.

“The night I picked you up. My heart broke upon witnessing your condition.” you have always been straight forward. But you also know how to play safe. Hence, choosing a statement that would both tell the truth and conceal it at the same time looks like the safest option to you.

“Oh. why?” Yoongi’s voice comes from a closer distance now. He must have shifted closer while you were busy staring at the ceiling.

“We are similar after all.” you finally look at him again. And that has been a mistake because Yoongi is very definitely staring at your lips.

Again, it is the alcohol to be blamed but you don’t pay half mind to all the alarms that set off when you take the initiative of closing the distance between your lips.

You expect him to push you away. You expect him to look at you with disgust in his eyes and storm out of your apartment.

But Min Yoongi rarely does what you expect him to.

So he grabs you by your neck and kisses you back with all the force and lust he could gather in himself.

Yoongi’s fingers slide through the most secret parts of your body, where you have hardly ever given any access to anyone. But when it’s Min Yoongi, you give up readily and willingly.

His mouth plays with the skin on your throat, biting you, marking you with excellence.

You must be in heaven right now.

If not then how come Yoongi is marking his territory on your skin? How come his hands are exploring your body like this?

You know this is forbidden. By whom or what you don’t really have an idea. But that doesn’t change the fact that Min Yoongi can’t be yours and that you should stay away from him when he is broken.

He is like a broken mirror, he reflects you but the moment you touch him, you get hurt.

And you are past the stage of touching him now.

Yoongi slides inside you with ease, his hands rest on your waist as he slams his entire length inside you.

You hiss because of the initial stretch.

He gives you time to adjust and once you are done he starts moving.

He places his pretty mouth beside your ear and starts chanting your name, “Y/N. oh. Fuck. Y/N.” it sounds like the sweetest melody known to humankind.

You let out occasional moans and groans with his lethal moves. His fingernails dig into your skin as if they are bound to be planted there.

You wander through the haze - is this a dream? Is this one of those twisted dreams that you often end up having but never manage to finish?

Yoongi groans again in your ear as he starts increasing his pace. He rutts in you like an animal in heat.

Your bed starts creaking and you realize this is definitely not a dream.

Min Yoongi is actually inside you, fucking you as if there’s no tomorrow.

When he finishes inside the condom and flops down on you, you wish for the time to stop. You wish for your wish to come true.

Even though you know, not even in your dreams Min Yoongi will ever love you back.

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sparklingblu · 6 months ago

Text

Eroverse

Pt.3 - Alpha & Omega

Yeji x Male Reader (ft. Kazuha)

Good news. None.

Bad news. Where do you even start?

The worst would be the fact that you can't feel your body. Your eyes seem to be the only functioning organ. To add insult to injury, your whole body is bare, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not grabbing your clothes before you get teleported back from that boxing ring. No use regretting it now. Even if you manage to move your limbs somehow, you are trapped in a bar restroom butt naked. Can this day get even worse?

To be honest, you expect yourself to develop some kind of resistance to all those headaches and pain after passing out four times in a day. Seems like there's no improvement. You can just hope no one comes knocking at the door. That leads you to wonder, how long have you been gone? The first time you encounter Rei or what seems to be Rei, it takes almost an hour. But at least she obeys every command you give so it isn't much of a struggle. The second time, however, you have to wrestle with Eunbi first before you finally tame her, as the quest had said. You are certain more than an hour has flown by.

Your phone chimes with a notification nearby. No doubt from the 'Ero' app. You desperately want to check it but there's not much you can do when your body feels like a lump of clay. So, you continue doing what you initially were, staring at the ceiling. Funny enough, seeing the ceiling has become a kind of relief after losing and gaining consciousness multiple times. At least, it reminds you that you are alive.

Once again, you can't help but think of all the unanswered questions that have piled up even more after your encounter with Eunbi. The voice that consistently keeps praising you after you complete a quest, the idols that you have met who are not actually idols. You are pretty sure about that now. Are they replicas? clones? Then what does that make you? A test subject for some crazy experiment that involve fucking idol clones? As usual, no answer.

If you look at it from the bright side, ignoring all the pain and confusion, you have used two idols for your release already. Getting to fuck one idol should be considered universally lucky. But two? You had to save a nation in your past life for that. Whether they are real or not, they still look exactly the same so it doesn't really make a difference. However, the downside shouldn't be ignored either. If you try to complete one more quest, fuck one more idol, you might not wake up again. With each jump, your body seems to weaken. It starts with headaches and soreness and now you are paralyzed. Not really a price worth paying. You are not perverted enough to trade your life for sex.

Actually, you might have passed that point already. If you inevitably have to die, you want to go out with honor. Not as a naked corpse in a restroom. "Oh, how did he die?" "I don't know, probably from jerking off naked in the toilet" Yep. Not a good idea.

A few minutes pass and you start considering screaming for help. You have to sacrifice every bit of dignity you have but at least you won't die. Thankfully, it doesn't happen. Blood starts to flow again in your fingers and soon, you are well aware of the cold floor on your skin.

You sit up groggily, propping yourself against the toilet for support. Taking a few deep breaths, you picked up the phone. The screen is full of cracks, it covers almost every part of the notification on your lock screen but without a doubt, it's from the 'Ero' app.

"Congrats on completing your second quest. Please wait patiently for the next one"

Typical. Just congratulations. Not to mention you nearly got killed. Thank you very much.

Then your eyes move to the upper corner of the screen displaying the time, 8:48. You can't be sure, but you are certain no more than a few minutes have passed since you passed out. How is it possible? Even without the time you spent laying paralyzed, it takes at least an hour to do everything you have done with Eunbi. No wonder no one comes looking for you.

Maybe time flows differently in whatever places you get teleported to. Another mystery. Your head starts throbbing, a sign of an oncoming headache. God, can that app let you off for once? There's a silver lining though. Your clothes lie in a pile in a corner. You have to shut your mouth before you start screaming with joy.

After changing hastily and washing your face, you exit the room. Russell and the rest of the crew are still at their table, their voices getting louder by the second. The effects of all the drinks they had had are evident on their red puffy faces. They don't even seem to notice your absence except Russell, who raises his hand at the sight of you.

"Man, you have been gone pretty long, you ok?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine.."

"You sure? You look like you just woke up"

He's not wrong but no use making him worried.

"Trust me. I'm ok. Just a bit tired, i guess"

"Have you been working late again?"

Gosh, this guy cares about you more than your mom. You take this as your chance to get out of here.

"Yeah, got some articles to finish. I have been procrastinating on this one I have to send tomorrow. Mind if I leave early? I need to sleep early"

"Of course. Don't work too hard, huh? You still have to write a best-seller remember?"

You simply smile and leave, grabbing your coat. The cold breeze offers you some comfort to the headache that's becoming unbearable. You just want to lay down on the spot and fall asleep. You walk back to your room, trying not to pass out on the way. The night is still young, and the sound of traffic and the chatter of people follows you everywhere. Ordinary people enjoying their lives unlike you, who have become a different person in just a day. You were a writer, not a good one but still an average Joe. Now, you fuck idols with the help of an app. Anyone who hear it will suggest you talk to a therapist, and you won't blame them.

And what is it that makes the app choose you? You have no special abilities other than the fact that you can mimic animal sounds and that's not even a real talent. Perhaps luck has finally found its way to your ever unfortunate life. But can it be called luck with how you become a step closer to death with each quest you take on.

You are so busy debating with yourself you are completely oblivious to your surroundings. If only you have turned your head to an alley across the street, you would have seen a dark figure with sparkling eyes that follow every one of your movements. A predator lurking in the shadows.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

A week has passed. The 'Ero' app is silent as ever.

You find yourself expecting a message for another quest despite promising yourself you won't let your perversion lead you to your demise. You should really start thinking with your brain rather than your dick.

Three days after your last quest, you even try to enter the 'Ero' app out of curiosity. The app closes automatically. After a few more tries, you give up out of disappointment and shame. Shame for trying to enter the app even after knowing the risks. Shame for being a hopeless pervert.

You should just stick to jerking off to fancams and pictures, at least that way you won't be playing with your life or getting beat up by an idol. That's what you have been doing since you got smitten by those kpop girls but after the quests you have done, it becomes tedious. You will still pump a load or two after seeing Karina's tits or Sohee's ass but it's nothing compared to Rei's blowjob or Eunbi's titjob. You have become addicted.

Ironically, you even find yourself dreaming of the darkness, the mahogany room and the boxing ring. This is what Eve might have felt when she's told not to eat the forbidden fruit, you think. Because forbidden things are the most tempting.

You still write but no longer out of pleasure, just to survive. And that reminds you, you should stop eating take outs and cook something yourself for once. Your room was a mess but now it's a whole trash pile. Plastic boxes and cups from all the take outs you order lie in a mountain at the sink. The trash car comes, you are just too lazy to throw it out. And if you don't do something about that stack of papers on the table, it's gonna touch the ceiling soon.

In short, you have become a mess. Every time your phone chimes, you would check it in a heartbeat, expecting a text from the 'Ero' app. But of course, it isn't. The app has gone ghost quiet. You are desperately seeking to complete just one more quest. One more idol to fuck.

You rarely go outside and ignore all the messages your friends and colleagues sent you. There's only one message you want to receive which never comes.

After a week of living like a vampire, a realization hits you. One so obvious you feel like an idiot not thinking about it sooner. All the problems you are facing are rooted from one single thing, the 'Ero' app. If you delete it, your suffering might end. You can even pretend everything that happened was a dream.

So, you get out of the bed which you have been laying on for hours and grab your phone on the table. The sudden burst of light in the dark room as the screen opens leaves you seeing black spots. It is nighttime but you haven't opened your curtains in a while, so it doesn't really make a difference.

You swipe till you land on the 'Ero' app. That little black heart icon. You press on it and the uninstall option pops off. 'Finally' you think. 'It's gonna be over. No more crazy stuffs' though a small voice somewhere in your mind keep insisting. 'But what of the pleasure that rivals no other? What of the idols you will meet?' 'Fuck this' you answer. It's true you are a pervert, but you are not hopeless. You won't die so that you can fuck some clone of an idol.

Determined, you raise your thumb and nearly press on the uninstall button until-

Your phone chimes. A notification on the top of the screen.

"New quest ready, ready for your next adventure chosen one?"

God damn it. Just when you are determined, this app has to come and ruin it. All the walls you have put up about not being a hopeless pervert crumbles in milliseconds. You want this after all. You don't want the app gone. You are just mas that it won't give you a quest. Now what you have been begging for a week is right in front of your eyes. You have to make a choice. Yes or No?

This quest can be your last. A punishment for letting your dick makes your decisions. You can ignore it. Delete the app and go on with your life as normal. But will your life ever be normal after deleting the app? Who can say you won't be wondering what the third quest would be and which idol you would meet? And worst of all, you will become ordinary again without the app. No more magic portals to creepy rooms.

You don't want to be ordinary. You have tried your best to become something others aren't all your life. Now, the chance has been presented to you. Your own personal paradise. All yours. No one else's.

So, you tap on the message, opening the app to the loading screen with the black heart. Even the sight of it gets excitement creeping up your legs already. Then you close your eyes immediately before they get torched by that blinding flash. After waiting for a minute just to be safe, you open your eyes again. A text box sits in the center of the screen, instructions to your next quest. Except that you can't read them.

The words are fuzzy and blurred. Some even completely redacted by black lines. It is as though someone has made them unreadable on purpose. What the hell is going on?

This can be another challenge, a harder quest. Even more difficult than trying to defeat an idol who nearly crashes you to pulp. A higher risk of death. A tinge of regret starts to overwhelm you but it's too late.

The all-familiar darkness envelopes you once again. Then comes the icy cold spike that tears through your organs. Your vision fades and you crumple like paper.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your old friend accompanies your wake. Of course, it's the headache. Fortunately, it isn't as strong as before or maybe you have just been out of touch you forget the pain. Nevertheless, you are alive.

You don't get to celebrate much though because the sight that greets you when you open your eyes sucks the joy right out of your heart. It isn't the ceiling this time. At least seeing the ceiling would have been a comfort. What you see is anything but comforting.

To start, you are not in a room like you were the last two quests. You are surrounded by marble columns that support the circular dome on top. A temple like those in Greek times. A huge part of the building has crumbled, giving you a clear view of what lies ahead.

Your heart leaps. Before your eyes lies what you can only describe as an apocalyptic city. Actually, an apocalyptic Greek city. Smoke billows from several temples writhed in flames. Most of the bronze and marble statues lining the sandy paths are missing a body part, some have been completely destroyed. A colosseum crumbles to dust right in front of your eyes though you have no idea what a Roman structure is doing in a Greek city. It would have been a beautiful place if it's not for the fact that it looks like a war zone.

The temple you are in is not holding out really well either. From time to time, debris would fall from the ceiling, and you can only hope the roof won't collapse on top of you. You try to move and that's when you realize you have been tied up. Looking down, you find yourself bound to a chair with metal chains, your hands at the back. Your legs are no exception either. They have been tied up as well.

This quest is starting to look hopeless already. It would be so easy for someone to gut you right now and you can do nothing but watch. You could call out for help except that there isn't a living being in sight. Even if someone does come, you can't be certain if they are friends or foes.

You remember the surge of strength that has come to you when you were at the brink of death. It would be really really helpful if you could get that kind of help right now. Though you doubt that kind of chance will be given twice.

"Oh, he can't help you this time" As if reading your thoughts, a voice rings out behind a column.

The owner of the voice emerges. A figure with fiery red hair wearing a top of matching color. The black jeans accentuate her slender legs. Her ruby red eyes fixed on you with a steely gaze. Yeji, the leader of Itzy.

"Ehm....Yeji?" Obviously, the idol before you is not the real Yeji. But you ask anyway.

"In a sense" She replies. "But that won't matter anymore after I kill you"

Just wonderful. Another idol who wants you dead.

"I gotta praise you though. You are pretty strong compared to those before you"

"Others? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, do you think you are the only one chosen by the app, chosen one?" She strains the last part just to sound sarcastic.

"Look, I don't even understand what's happening much less answer your questions. I don't even know why you want to kill me"

"Oh, you very much do" She snaps back. "Rei? Eunbi? The things you did to them. You are lucky I let you live this long"

"I was just doing what the app told me to"

"Oh, yes. That stupid 'Ero' app. You love it so much you walked right into my trap"

The realization hits you like a bucket of cold water. The quest that arrives right when the app is nearly deleted. The distorted letters.

"It's you" You say. "You are the one who set up this quest"

"Correct" Her voice is dripping with glee. "Aren't I clever?"

"Ok, Yeji....or whatever. If you let me go, I promise I won't-"

"Oh, shut up. You will follow where your dick leads you"

She's not wrong. Still, it sort of hurts.

"There's nothing you will get out of killing me" You try the other route.

"Oh, there's a lot I can get out of killing you" Yeji muses, walking closer. "And I will start by destroying the thing that have been distracting my kind"

You don't know what she means but you don't need to wonder for long because with the flick of her wrist, your shorts come off. Look, you know some guys are really into the bondage stuff when the girl ties you up and all, but it isn't much fun when your partner is trying to kill you. But there's a bigger threat than getting killed right now.

"Wait, you don't mean my-"

"Dick? Yes. If it's gone, you can no longer bother us, right?"

"You can't do that! It's illegal"

"Look around you. You are no longer on earth"

You are making empty threats, and you know it too well. But you don't want your bloodline to end with you.

"Look, maybe we can make a deal or something"

"Too late" Yeji unfolds her palm and a gladius, a roman sword, manifests out of thin air. She's definitely not human.

You tilt your head in panic as the point hovers over your throat.

"I should have just killed you but where's the fun in that?"

Your breath hitches. You don't trust yourself to talk without blabbering out more pleas that will make Yeji even madder. And even worse, your dick is rock hard because of the adrenaline.

"Bye bye" She raises the sword and brings it down on your springing mamba. You close your eyes. bracing yourself for the pain. But it never comes because a voice cuts through the tense atmosphere.

"Wait!" Another female voice and running footsteps. You open your eyes.

Behind Yeji is Kazuha, the japanese member of Le Sserafim. Her pink satin dresses look out of place among the ruins of the city, like a runaway bride.

"Kazuha?" Yeji lowers the gladius. "Oh, let me guess. He sent you"

"You need to stop this. Killing him won't stop our problems"

"You don't know that for sure. One less candidate means less chance for the mark to emerge"

"What mark?" instantly, you regret not keeping your mouth shut. They want to cut your dick off for christ's sake.

"The mark of-" Kazuha starts to answer but Yeji cuts her off.

"Shut up" Yeji snaps. "He's going to die anyway"

"Stop this, Yeji. He's going to be so mad if he finds out"

"So what? He has been a dick all those times. You still take orders from him?"

"He can be crazy sometimes but it's our job to serve him"

"Bullshit. You are just too scared to disobey"

"Yeji, please"

Kazuha's words have no effect. Yeji closes in on you again and raises her gladius. This time there's no escape for you.

Then the strangest thing happens. A burst of energy erupts from your core, spreading to every cell in your body. All the fatigue and panic are gone. It's like being dipped in water when you are high. You feel pumped, ready to do anything. More specifically, ready to fuck anyone because the lust inside you has never been so strong.

"It can't be..." Yeji backs away, dropping her gladius. Her face that of pure horror.

You look down and nearly scream yourself. On your pelvis is an upside-down pentagram, like those used in cult rituals and its glowing red hot though you don't feel any pain. Further down is an even stranger sight. Your dick is literally glowing. Upon taking a closer look, you realize it’s surrounded by a golden aura like it's something powerful. All the chains binding you shatter to pieces, and you rise.

"The mark" Kazuha mutters dreamily. "It's real"

"No!" Yeji screams, falling down. "It's a myth. How could it be-" She picks up her gladius and instantly charges. You back away but there isn't a need. Because Yeji got thrown away as though hit by an invisible force.

She crouches on the floor, panting. "This is madness"

Kazuha just stands there frozen. Hey eyes fixed on your glowing cock.

But you only have a single objective in your mind. Ruin Yeji. Use her. Punish her. She is nothing but an easy prey.

"Stay away" Yeji shouts. In the end, the hunter has become the hunted.

You close in, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up. Then you slam her onto a column. You don't intend to hurt her though. She's in for something much worse.

"I will kill you" She mutters but the panic is clear as day in the way her words stutter. Grabbing her waist, you trace your lips across the pulsing veins of her neck all the way to her jaw. Then a bite on her earlobe. Yeji squirms.

"Still want to kill me?" The question is left unanswered as Yeji's lips part to give way to your tongue, which invades into her oral opening. Yeji's pupils widen when her own tongue got tickled by the foreign one. Her screams come out muffled. Yeji tries to pull away but the grip of your lips on hers is stronger than ever.

All the while, your hands make their way down to her waist belt, enjoying the feeling of her firm skin. Sliding down further, you slip into her jeans, squeezing that tone ass of hers.

The writhing of her body is cut short when you slid a finger into her tight asshole, which makes her limp like a rug doll. At first, it's hard to move much with how hard her hole grips you but after a few pumps, it starts to oblige, allowing swifter movements.

As you finger her asshole, you don't stop the mouth action either. You can no longer tell whose mouth is moister as your saliva got mixed from how long you have been tasting her. All that matters is you keep her mouth shut. The strands of red hair fall over, obscuring your vision partly but you press on, taking in her taste each and every second. Your dick is pressed flat against her tummy in this position and it's getting you even more riled up. You can take care of it later.

With your unoccupied hand, you squeeze her soft cheeks, which fold like rubber under your touch. The pace of your finger that keeps fucking her asshole remains unwavering. In fact, its pounding her now the same way your cock would. At the same time, you are tongue fucking her. Both of her holes are stuffed and there's nothing she can do about it except produces more degraded sounds.

Yeji's legs start to shake, inevitably nearing her peak whether she likes it or not. Saliva drips from the corner of her lips and a strand of the remnants connect your lips as your tongue exits her mouth. You are not letting her off. You just want to hear her moan.

"I...will kill you..." Her voice comes out husky, so it sounds more like an empty promise than a threat.

"Just shut up and cum bitch" Your thrusts become forceful. Perhaps you are hurting her but Yeji's moaning too much to care. Unable to resist the sight of her skin, you bite down on her neck, pitching up her voice.

Finally, Yeji breaks. In a frenzy of pain and bliss, she lets out a carnal groan which rings out through the temple. Juice gush out from her pussy when your finger thrust in one last time. Each time her body convulses, she lets out a moan, each one louder than the last. She is still trembling nonstop even after you pull out, her jeans stained with her own bodily fluid.

"Did you just come from getting your asshole fingered?" You ask. Yeji can only pant as she props against a column not to tremble from her legs that are on the verge of giving out.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see Kazuha, her arms folded, watching the whole thing without a single word. She seems to be on your side for now.

"Tired already?" You ask Yeji. "It's just starting"

The mark on your pelvis glows brighter, the red rays casting a translucent glow on Yeji. With an iron grip on her shoulders, you turn her around, allowing you the view of her round ass in tight jeans. The stain on her crotch area makes the scene even more lewd.

"Admit it, Yeji. All this time you have been a slut. My cock is all it takes to wipe that bitchy look off your face" Your cock presses against her clothed ass.

"I swear I will kill-"

You pull down her jeans just enough to expose her round butt, stealing the air right out of her lungs. Your palm connects with her supple flesh in a harsh spank, leaving a handprint in red. You deliver a strike for each word that leaves her mouth. It goes like this.

"I-"

Spank

"will-"

Spank

"kill-"

Spank

"you-"

The white canvas of her skin is now streaked with scarlet stripes. And you intend to keep it that way because the way her ass jiggle with each spank is too hypnotic to get tired of. The cherry on the top is how she keeps protesting even through the stinging pain. But you are gonna change it real soon.

With one last strike, you pull back, admiring your handiwork on her ass, which is now the same fiery shade as her hair and tops. Yeji mutters another curse through shallow breath. This bitch is still as cocky as ever.

Pulling her hair to tilt her head, you whisper into her ear. "Still resisitng, hmm? Should we move on to your next punishment?" Yeji's eyes blaze with fury. "Bastard"

"So, we are doing it the rough way" You hold her throat in a tight grip with your other hand, restricting any more words from coming out of her vocal cords.

You rest your rock hard cock between her cheeks, the glow it radiates merging with her reddened buttocks. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out now. And then I wanna know if you still want me dead"

Yeji can do nothing as you enter her moist slit with one forceful thrust that ripples her cheeks. You don't know if she's a virgin or not but the way her walls hug you tight is giving you ideas. Nevertheless, you push on, breaking through the barriers of her fold with each thrust. It doesn't take much time for you to pound her freely with how wet she already is from earlier.

Soon, you are hammering her cunt without a care in the world, solely focused on using her as your vessel for pleasure. You will take anything her body can offer and that will be her punishment, to become nothing but your cumdump. Resentment and triumph take over your movements and each thrust leaves her even more breathless despite being choked.

You loosen your grip on her neck just enough for her to make audible sounds. "Still hate me?" You ask as you pull back all the way and thrust into her slit with all your force. She tenses, her back arched. She answers your question with animalistic sounds only a whore would make.

"Hmm, you still got a lot to learn" You slip your hands under her top, reaching for her mounds. Yeji's tits aren't qualified to be called huge, but they are still big enough to fill your palm as you knead them. When you twirl her rosy nipples between your index and thumb, she mewls like an animal in heat which is only natural with the way she's getting bred.

You slow down your thrusts, moving in and out slowly to enjoy the full feeling of her slick velvety walls that trace every inch you fill her up with. Somewhere far away, another building collapsed with a sickening crunching sound. A wave of hot air grazes your skin. But they can do nothing to disturb you from claiming Yeji's cunt thoroughly.

Her walls start to contrast around you, the sign of an oncoming climax. You thrust with inhuman speed, empowered by the mark, as Yeji had called it. Jolts of energy course through your veins at every moment and you are surprised to find that you are not even sweating, much less tired. You can breed Yeji all day if she isn't already worn out and used up.

Yeji's eyes roll up, her tongue hanging out in the perfect replication of the ahaego faces you see so often in certain animes. Another flood of her nectar pours out, coating your shaft. You keep fucking through her orgasm, chasing your own high. Yeji's body twists and bends but you keep her in position by wrapping your arms around her waist.

The friction over her slick walls becomes unbearable and soon you are pumping jets after jets of your fertile seeds into her womb, all the way to the hilt. If Yeji sounds animalistic before, now she's no different from an animal. Guttural sounds betray her lips as she gets filled up to the depths she never knows existed before. When your orgasm subsides, she becomes motionless, her hoarse breaths the only sign of life.

You pull out and cum drips out of her hole which is clenching onto air as if it needs something stuffed inside. Her punishment is a success. Yeji's got destroyed by the very thing that she wanted to destroy. As you stand there, grinning with victory, the adrenaline starts to drain out of your body. Your legs become sore, and the fucking headache is starting again. The mark on your pelvis dims and fades along with the glow of your spent rod.

"We need to leave" You are so caught up in the joy of dominating Yeji, you forget Kazuha exists. She's still at her old spot, watching you with interest and a slither of worry. You quickly pull up your shorts though there's no point being shy now. She has seen everything.

"Leave where?" You ask. "My quest is completed right? I will just pass out and go back"

"It's not happening this time. He wants to meet you"

"He?"

"Look, we don't have much time. He will explain everything to you. I promise"

"But-"

The temple rumbles. More debris and dust fall from above.

"Alright. Good idea" You and Kazuha make it outside just in time before the whole temple collapses. The sound of explosions and crumbling buildings ring out all around you. The air burns your lungs with each breath.

"Ok, hold my hand" Kazuha says and you oblige. There's no point arguing when you are in the middle of an apocalypse. As Kazuha closes her eyes, a gleaming orb surrounds both of you and you spiral down into a tunnel of light.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(Have been procrastinating on this. Anyway, enjoy~)

#kpop smut #male reader #girl group smut #itzy smut #yeji smut #kazuha smut #le sserafim smut

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