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the-darklings · 3 years

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—𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞;

⤫ pairing: johnny silverhand x corp!v(ermillion)

⤫ summary: Usually, they’re a calamity together—destructive and volatile as each other. But right now, just for a second, there is only music and them.

⤫ word count: 2.3k+

⤫ warnings: spoilers for act i & side mission the ballad of buck ravers, third person but can be read as RI ig, swearing, written in one sitting so who knows what the final result is - certainly not me.

⤫ notes: let me leave my clown shoes outside.

It starts out the way it always does.

One ring leads to another and she suddenly finds herself running or driving around the Night City with little to no rest, pulling one job after another. The more jobs she closes the more she seems to be in demand.

Good for business. Good for making a name for herself, too, but not so good on her overall being.

She’s been running. Like a fucking coward. Filing her days with meaningless shit while trying desperately not to think about her ticking clock. About Jackie.

Guilt gnaws on her bones daily. She should have done more, been better, more careful. Jackie never should have died. It was stupid and blind ambition that drove them both to try and pull this near impossible heist in the first place. Her own reckless drive has blinded her, and now the person closest to her in this fucking city is nothing more than a cold corpse.

Fuck.

She should have sent him to his family instead. She only wanted to spare them from the grief of having to see Jackie in the state he was in but now Araska has his body and god knows what those assholes might be doing with it.

And now…

Well she has nothing to lose, does she? She’s already dying, already hunted, her only close friend is dead. She promised to make him proud. Make it to the big leagues or make a league all on her own if that’s what it takes. Bleed this city dry if that’s the price to pay for what she wants.

Back when she worked for Arasaka she wanted knowledge which led to power. Then she wanted guns and money and a roof over her head.

Now she wants something more. After coming face to face with her own fragile morality, she has begun to realise how meaningless things like money and power are. Now she wants to surpass that. To become something immortal—something that will outlive her body. Maybe even outlive this city.

Jackie should have been one of such people.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself,” a voice drawls from beside her, a crackle filling the air as a too familiar silhouette of a man appears in her sight. “Or cry.”

“Fuck off.”

V turns away from one Johnny Silverhand because it’s hard to look at him and not be reminded of the fact that she’s slowly dying and the construct only she can see and hear is the one doing the deed.

“This self-pitying bullshit needs to stop,” he says, ignoring her vicious words. “We share a brain, remember? I feel what you feel. It’s downright depressing in your head right now.”

Her jaw clicks at the reminder. Everyday she wakes up and feels like they’re linked by a bridge—he stands on one side, and she on another. When they come closer, she can feel it—feel him. The overlap is near dizzying, overwhelming, even a little addictive. But it’s always followed by agony because she fights back, tries to shove him away. If not, he will consume her, but she will get him out of her head before that ever happens.

You share a brain now, Vik had told her only days prior, his eyebrows knitted tight and—albeit subdued—but clear worry in his low voice, senses and memories, even perception. Eventually it will become impossible to tell whose who anymore.

The worst thing is the fact that he’s right.

She can feel Silverhand rooted inside her; a constant, a presence that is persistent to a point she knows she’s not alone even if she wishes to be.

An echo of a being deep inside her.

“Then get the hell out,” she bites back, fighting to keep her temper leashed so she doesn’t burst out at him like she did at the diner. She can still remember the wary stares she received from the diners when she started shouting verbally at a figment only she could perceive in the first place. “I didn’t ask for a parasite to make himself home in my brain.”

Johnny scoffs under his breath, raising a cigarette to his mouth, and she’s nearly overcome with need to remind him that he’s fucking dead, and can’t smoke. That, and the fact that she would prefer him to leave her the fuck alone.

“You did the job, didn’t ya? You sure you didn’t have this comin’?”

Flipping him off, she storms past him, her jaw clenched to appoint it aches and eyes narrowed. Just her luck not only to get stuck with a human tumour but for the said tumour to be a bastard to boot.

So much for being buddies.

Sun has set over Westbrook hours ago yet Chinatown is as busting with life as always. Overflowing with conversations all spoken in different languages, smells, distant gunshots, and people from all walks of life just trying to survive. Even during her years with the Arasaka, she never quite got used to the vastness of the Night City—not even when she was sure she was at the top. The way this city seems to breathe and fester day in and out; a living beast full of dangers and potential is unique.

Lost in the crowd, it’s almost easy to forget who she is aside from another face in the said crowd. She’s not a merc, not an ex-corp working counterintelligence—she’s not anything.

Her optics catch sight of several Tiger Claws lingering around the market, and she makes sure to give them a wide berth, especially when she notes the impressive list of their stats. She’s not stupid enough to attack outright when they outclass her—for now—and there are several of them around. With the market this busy the only outcome to that fight would be a bloodbath with police on her ass when that’s the last thing she needs right now.

Despite that logical part inside her steering her well clear of the gang members the need to blow off some steam bubbles under her skin. An ache starts to form against her temple soon after, making her focus blur around the edges as she wanders from vendor to vendor aimlessly.

“Hey, V,” a rumble of a voice cuts through her thoughts—and she hates how she can’t quite ignore his voice unlike everyone else—and turns her head in the direction of the call. She had foolishly assumed he was going to give her some peace of mind for tonight at least. “Check this guy out.”

Walking up a dimly lit staircase, she had barely noticed a man sitting on a rickety chair and playing a guitar. Much like her, others walk right past him, ignoring the man altogether.

Johnny glimmers into sight, squatting in place and oddly intent on observing the old man while he plays.

She entertains the idea of walking away simply to piss him off. If something is of interest to him, then she wants to ignore it so hard it gets under his nonexistent skin. Petty, perhaps, but ever so satisfying.

Hearing no reply or receiving much reaction at all, Johnny slants his head her way, nodding once towards the man, “What do you think?”

Squinting, she drags her gaze towards the guitarist, crossing her arms over her chest while she listens. She’s not even sure why she’s bothering but…

The melody is slow, near drowned out by the bustling sounds of the nearby market and chatter of people walking past.

“He’s...fine?” she offers lamely. “I mean he’s pretty good.”

A slight smirk crosses over Johnny’s mouth—gone in a blink but the focus he places on the man who seems to be unaware of her or the silent second spectator surprises her.

“Loses tempo more than he keeps it,” he comments, almost absently, and she feels her eyebrows arch in another show of bewilderment. A quiet spells falls over their little nook, and Johnny listens more, thoughts rolling inside his head if his body language is any sign. “Sloppy on the technique but he has feeling in the way he plays. Can’t teach that.”

“If only you didn’t die,” she sighs softly, closing her eyes in mock sympathy. “This could have been you.”

He surprises her again by laughing at that. It’s a deep rumble of a sound, and she can almost feel it echo between them and their mental bridge. “You’re kinda of a bitch. Has anyone told you that before?”

Her teeth flash in the dim orange glow of the neon lights. “And you’re sort of a dick. Anyone tell you that before?” she wonders with a charming, practiced smile.

He flickers out of sight and she’s about to call it a mental victory but a tickle of electricity kisses across the bare curve of her shoulder and neck, and she shivers when he appears beside her. His arms are crossed as well, and he glances her way briefly.

“Seems to me like we’re two peas in a fuckin’ pot, then,” he points out easily, and shakes his head, seemingly amused by his own words. “I might have tried to kill you a few weeks ago but look at us being chummy, Ver.”

Her throat closes up at that, expression tightening. He notices of course. Or maybe it’s the unease that slices through her mind at the casual way he uses her nickname.

“What? Am I not allowed to call you that or somethin’?” he wonders curiously, seemingly entertained by her reaction. Asshole.

“Only my friends call me Ver.”

Jackie was the first.

That thought makes her swallow painfully, a dull ache clawing against her heart. One would think that years being a corpo would have wiped whatever humanity still lived in her but Jackie’s death had been a stark reminder that she couldn’t be further from the truth if she tried.

“Why?”

She gives him a flat look. “Because my full name is Vermillion, but people tend to find it a mouthful so…”

“Vermillion,” he repeats, his intonation dry, and she shoots him a quick glare, daring him to make an issue of it. Naturally, his next words don’t surprise her, “That’s a stupid fuckin’ name.”

“Oh, because Johnny Silverhand is so much better.”

She expects him to say something snarky in return, argue maybe, but he only snorts. His metal hand lifts, pushing his aviators down slightly as he glances at her over them.

“You got me there.”

Usually, they’re a calamity together—destructive and volatile as each other. But right now, just for a second, there is only music and them. Shadows and life of the Night City holding them both suspended in this moment. No arguments or biting comments. No guilt, either.

A slight smile tugs across her mouth as she continues listening to the man play his downbeat little tune. Her shoulders loosen, drooping slightly and she lets herself breathe for a moment. Just the one.

“Used to be just like him,” Johnny speaks up suddenly, his voice more subdued, lower, and taps his fingers against the cigarette he’s holding. “But better. Used to play everywhere we could. Garages, bars. Anywhere that would have us, and we always had an audience.”

She hums, offering him a brief glance. “You mean you were actually good?”

She can’t see his eyes in the darkness of the street or through his tinted shades. But despite that, she can still feel his glare and the mental bite of chagrin/irritation/why is she so annoying? and deeper than that a spark of amusement/little shit thinks she’s funny.

“What’s this?” he muses, his words sarcastic. “A corpo rat that actually has a sense of humour? Colour me surprised.”

“No can do,” she shoots back promptly, fighting back a wider grin. “You’re too dead for that.”

He tsks, throwing his cigarette to the ground and she almost rolls her eyes. “Can’t wait to be out of your damn head, princess.”

“Can’t wait to be rid of you, either, so the feeling is mutual.”

Their words might be stringent but she can almost taste the faint amusement trickling between them and under that bridge that connects them.

“There might still be some bootlegs of those old days,” he muses thoughtfully. “People used to record everything back in my day.”

She drags her gaze his way, lips thinning into a firm line, “I’m not becoming a fan, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Afraid you’ll hear real music and won’t be able to go back to this modern garbage I hear everywhere?”

There is challenge in his words and she bristles. Maybe this is what she needs. She may not be able to put holes in some Tiger Claws with her sniper rifle but she sure as hell can go on a scavenger hunt and see what she finds.

Besides, it might help her to understand the man nested inside her mind a little better.

So when an hour later the old, wrinkly vendor asks her why he should give her his oldest, most precious Samurai vinyl, she tells him the truth.

A twisted truth.

But truth all the same.

“He’s with me every step I take, every move I make,” she confesses softly, something deep down breathing awake at that admittance. “Johnny’s like my conscience. My eternal, infernal moral compass.”

She doesn’t miss how the man in question doesn’t appear, doesn’t say anything even after hearing that. She would have figured he would be the first in line to offer her some mocking, snarky comment but there is only silence.

In fact, she can barely feel him at all. The tether between them is still and quiet.

And his silence says a lot more than he probably realises.

an: hello. guess whose not dead and kinda back to writing. dunno how much of cp77 you should expect because coa is still my priority but maybe occasional fic for these dumbos is on the cards. oh, and takemura because cdpr are cowards for not giving us that enemies to friends/partners to lovers romance. also I know this isn’t strictly RI and I honestly considered writing it as such but saw...no point? since the premise still would have been the same, so something a little different today ig.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand x female v #keanu reeves #johnny silverhand imagine #johnny silverhand fic #cyberpunk 2077 imagine #cyberpunk 2077 fic #c: vermillion #s: get out of my head

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doyumacy · 3 years

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ʜᴀᴇᴄʜᴀɴ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (fwb) pt. 2

ɢɪꜰ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍɪɴᴇ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴏʜʜɴʏ, ᴍᴀʀᴋ, ᴊᴇɴᴏ, ꜱɪᴄʜᴇɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴ. ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ. ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx.) ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏʀᴇ; ɴᴏꜱᴇ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀʙᴏɴᴇ, ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7,7k

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 ʜᴇʀᴇ

Doghyuck doesn't call you the next day as it was expected. You are walking to your next class when you see him talking enthusiastically to a girl; she has her back leaning against the wall and he has one arm at the side of her head. You sigh and keep walking without being noticed by him.

You know Donghyuck and know the playboy he is. You know it might don't mean anything. Donghyuck is a flirty person by nature, and you can’t even begin to list the number of girls who’ve had their hearts broken by him. And yours might get added to that list.

You shake your head and enter the classroom placing your backpack on the floor. Someone sits next to you and you see Johnny. He smirks at you. “Hey, baby girl.”

Johnny is also a natural flirter, but not a player. You smile. “What’s up, Bravo?”

“Ha! Johnny Bravo,” he beams. “That’s a nice one.”

You shrug, smiling. “You know, my birthday is this weekend and you’re of course invited to the party.”

“I’ll be there,” you nod.

Johnny tilts his head in surprise. “Wait, really?”

You laugh. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“Because it normally would take me 5 hours to convince you to go…” he glances at you.

“That’s not t…” you frown. “Okay, maybe it’s true, but this time I really wanna go.”

He raises his hand and places it on your forehead. “Are you sick?”

You giggle and remove his hand. “I’m okay. I just need a distraction.”

“You okay?” He looks at you.

You sigh. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“You know, if you ever need to talk to someone about anything I’m here,” he smiles at you.

“I know, thank you.”

(...)

"Hey Soo," you call your roommate.

She turns to you, taking her headphones off. "Yes?"

"Can I borrow your white dress?" You ask.

She nods. "Sure, where are you going tho?"

"Johnny's party," you smile. "He invited me and I haven't gone shopping in months."

"Oh, then no. You can't borrow that one," she gets up from the bed walking to her wardrobe.

"Okay..." you frown.

"You better wear this instead," she pulls out a long-sleeved pink latex dress, with a deep neckline ending at the waistband enriched by a hexagonal buckle. Your mouth drops open. "Woah, that's so..."

"I know," she beams.

"Aren't I going to look like a dominatrix?" You laugh.

She giggles. "Of course not. You will look very hot."

"Fuck it," you say, grabbing the dress. "I'm gonna wear it."

“Donghyuck is gonna lose his shit,” Soo laughs

“Huh?” You look at her confused. “What do you mean?”

“I might be dumb but I’m not blind,” she smiles. “You always sneak out and the way you two look at each other pretty much say you two been fucking….”

You choke a whine. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” she pats your shoulder.

(...)

"Wow..." You sigh as you compare this amazing mansion to your house in your mind.

"Impressive, yes yes, whatever," Johnny grabs your hand, walking through the people inside the mansion.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You need a drink," Johnny smiles, "Goddamn, you look so hot tonight."

You fiddle with your hair and your necklace, hiding your face so he can't see you're blushing. "T-thanks."

When you enter the kitchen, all eyes are on you, or rather in your cleavage. You recognize a few people that are there and you greet them, smiling. "My, my, aren't you pretty!" A boy practically sings, flipping his dark hair as he talks.

He's gorgeous. Johnny hands you a drink and you have a sip. "Ignore Yuta, he can't keep his hands to himself."

You giggle. "It's okay, I came because I wanna mingle."

Johnny tilts his head in surprise. "Weren't you dating Donghyuck?"

You almost choke on your drink. "What? W-where did you get that from?"

Johnny scratches the back of his neck. "Taeyong is Donghyuck's neighbor in the dorms and I once saw you, or heard you two doing things."

You blush and cover your face. "Oh, my God."

Johnny laughs at your reaction. "Taeyong didn't see you, don't worry. So, is your boyfriend coming?"

"He's not my boyfriend," you sigh. "We are... fuck buddies. We have been fucking our souls out."

"Nothing wrong with that," he quips.

You laugh. "It is when you catch feelings for him."

"Oh..." Johnny wiggles his eyebrows.

"Yup," you shake your head. "Whatever, I'm done. I can't keep doing it."

“Okay, lets go dance and hopefully I can introduce you to someone,” Johnny grabs your hand again, leaving the kitchen.

After Johnny and you dance a couple of songs, he invites you to play beer pong. You have one ball in one hand and a drink in the other, trying to land the damned thing in one of the red solo cups arranged across from you. You shoot and you miss, which you swear loudly at. Yuta, who is your partner, laughs. "You're the worst beer pong player I've ever seen."

You groan. "Give me a minute."

After everyone shoots and misses, it's your turn again. You take the ball in your hand again and suddenly your sight gets lost in Donghyuck and the same girl he was flirting with days ago in the hallway. Is she his girlfriend? Was he fucking you and dating her? You wanna throw up.

You drop the ball and leave the dining table trying to find the closest bathroom. Someone grabs your arm, making you turn. It's Johnny. "Hey, you okay?"

"You invited him?" You give him a questioning look, almost angry.

"Who? Donghyuck? No!" He looks at you. "I did invite the girl he is with... she's in my marketing class. I didn't even know they were together."

You growl and yank yourself free. "I need a drink."

Johnny shakes his head in disagreement. "Come with me. I want you to introduce you to someone."

"I don't need more guys, Johnny!" You glance at him.

"He's not a guy, he's a man," he smiles, dragging you to the living room. "Hes our age, but hes everything but a guy."

"You sound whipped for him, you should date him instead," you mock him.

Johnny chuckles. "Not my type."

In a matter of seconds, you're in front of a 'man' with round eyes, small mouth, a lot of cheekbone. Small nose too, with a sort of endearing hint of crook at the bridge. Permanently surprised eyebrows, one half-hidden under black hair, styled back but for a curl coming down on the right side. He's truly beautiful.

"Hey Mark, this is y/n. y/n this is Mark Lee," Johnny smiles. "You both like ice cream and sushi. Mingle, bye!"

And Johnny disappears from the scene. You stare at Mark for a couple of seconds and then laugh. You scratch your forehead and you can tell Mark is trying to keep his eyes up from for cleavage. Nice.

There's an awkward silence until Mark breaks it. "I actually hate sushi. Anything raw."

You sigh in relief. "Me too. I hate it."

You both laugh again. "Anyway," Mark continues, "it's cool to like, actually meet you finally? Johnny talks about you a lot so I feel like I kinda know you already, haha."

"Oh really?" Which means Mark spends significant time around him. You wonder where.

"Yeah! I mean, I don't go to the same uni as you guys but we met when we were on an exchange program in America," he smiles.

"Oh that's great!" You smirk. "So you're the guy who kept him away from me when he was away?"

"I think I am? I apologize," he places a hand on his chest.

"You're forgiven," you sigh and he smiles.

Your favorite song Pour Up by Dean ft. Zico starts to play in the background and you look at him. "I love that song. You wanna go dance with me?"

"You kidding? That's my favorite song too," he grabs your hand walking to where the rest of the people are dancing.

It's not like you wanted to give Mark a lap dance, but the song is too sexy for not to do it (or maybe you did, but that is an advanced level of courage and you are not known for being a bold person). It's not like Donghyuck didn't see you with a stranger, dancing so closely and got jealous of him because that could be him.

Mark rotates his hips, running his hands up his sides and swaying. He glances over you, who are doing the same.

You roll your body provocatively, remembering just how tight the dress looks on your ass. The next move prompts him and you to face each other for a moment as you rise back up, rocking on your heels and swaying. He winks at you jokingly and you smirk.

Donghyuck finds the scene repulsive. He wants to drag you out of the house and beat the shit out of Mark. Who the hell did the guy think he is? Donghyuck gets pulled out his thoughts when his date grabs his arm. "Babe, I want another drink."

Donghyuck gives you a last glance and sighs turning to his date. "Let's go."

When the song's over, Mark and you step out of the crowded 'dance floor' and you lean against the wall. He stands next to you. "Uhm, did you hear he's having a concert next weekend?

You nod. "Yeah, I wanted to go but tickets got sold out."

He bites his lips. "I have an extra ticket, would you like to go with me?"

You look at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, you seem to enjoy his music and you're nice. And of course, I'd like to know you better," he smirks.

You beam. "Okay, I'd love to. Thank you, Mark."

Back in your dorm, you text Mark you've arrived safely and he wishes you a goodnight. You take off the dress and put on your pajamas.

Right when you're about to turn off the lights, you get a text message from Donghyuck.

𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛?

And just like that, minutes later you open the dorm door finding him on the other side of the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes then turn into slits as he glares at you.

“Had fun with your date?” He questions and you can see his jaw set: muscles clenching tight.

"I did," you reply.

Donghyuck gets inside your dorm and shuts the door behind him. He attaches his lips to your neck which draws a soft moan from you, he harshly sucking and peppering soft kisses on the expanse of the skin of your neck. His hands running at your sides smoothly and gradually getting closer to the underside of your breasts with each pass, when he finally cups your breasts you arch in his palms further pushing yourself closer to him. "Look at you, you're all needy by me just kissing your neck."

You want to slap him, but he's right. “Why can’t you understand that I am the only one who can make you feel this way?"

You taste the residue of vodka on his lips when he kisses you and walks to your bed without breaking the kiss.

You find yourself lying naked on your bed where you two have laid your back many times but he never stayed over the night. As he slips your pajama pants down your body, your eyes water and pools in your eyes ready to spill over. ‘This is the last time,’ you tell yourself. He discharges his clothes at the other side of the bed. You manage to swipe the tears that gathered in your eyes and look at him.

Placing himself over you, he is a sight to behold and you trace the line of his body with your eyes, caressing the dips on his collarbones and the line that leads down to his cock as his face coils into a smirk smug with the knowledge that he can turn you into a whimpering mess.

His thumb is drawing circles on your clit which make your moan and your pussy clench on nothing. You hate that he is the only one who can make you feel this way, reducing you into a pleading mess as you move your hips to the rhythm that he has set.

He inserts his length into you slowly, while you grip your sheets until your knuckles turn pale. He always feels good. So good.

He knows your body so well; putting the right pressure and hitting the spots that makes you throw your head back repeatedly, moaning. You can feel his quick thrusts and knows that he is near his climax. Donghyuck makes a sound at the back of his throat when he orgasms and you follow him when he falls.

He snuggles into your neck, trying to catch his breath again. You rest beneath him and hug him, placing kisses on his shoulder. "I came inside," he tells you, rolling next to you.

"I'm on the pill," you stare at the roof.

He nods. "I should go."

You laugh. Of course he has to go. He always has to go. "Whatever, lock the door when you leave."

You cover yourself with your sheets, turning on your back. He frowns as he gets dressed. "What's up with you these days?"

"What do you mean?" You turn to face him.

"You're acting... weird," Donghyuck shrugs.

You want to yell at him and tell him that you're over heels for him. That you love him. That you've been in love with him for a year and being cold to you only hurts you more and more.

You shake your head. "Just... go."

He finishes putting his clothes on and grabs his phone. "Is this too much for you? Us fucking?"

Yes. "No."

"Great, because we're supposed to have a great time," he leans closer to you and gives you a kiss. "You know where to find me."

You nod and right after he shuts the door, tears plops down your cheeks. He doesn't love you the way you love him. And he might never do. You hate him, but you even hate yourself more. You don't want to ever see him again.

(...)

“y/n! Mark's here!” You hear Too call you.

You smile, grabbing your jacket as you hurry out the door.

Mark is standing in the doorway and you draw closer, he smiles at you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” You smile back taking in Mark's attire. He is dressed in black ripped skinny jeans, a white shirt and a denim jacket. “You look great.”

“You do too.” Mark offers you a charming grin, head tilted slightly to the side, “You always look great.”

“Oh he’s good.” You hear Soo murmur teasingly, “you two have fun.”

Mark flashes the tickets to the security guy at the entrance of the venue, the music is pumping in your ears and the flashing lights of the stage. A crowd has already found their seats.

You know how to maneuver through a crowd almost completely undetected. You seem completely in your element, the multi-colored lights dancing off your hair, as you two of them maneuver through the people. You finally find your seats and Mark sighs, relieved.

Minutes later, the artist finally gets on stage. You two are moving to the beat, the show is so good.

You catch yourself staring between songs, Mark is truly beautiful.

You're surprised when he glances over and notices you are mouthing the lyrics. He smiles watching you. "That's our song."

"Wanna dance with me again?"

"Definitely," he smirks.

You two dance to "Pour Up" again, grinding to each other. Mark feels good pressed against your back.

After the concert is done, you two stay still waiting for the rest of the people to leave the venue. Someone lets out a roar from somewhere on your left, a second later something collides with your face, hard enough to knock you more into Mark. Mark catches you before you end up face first on the floor. The second you gain your footing back, Mark turns towards the guy that hit you, furious.

“Watch it!” Mark's voice comes out harsh as the other concert attender snorts and waves him off. You feel something hot run down your face from your nose. You reach up your hand in time to catch a few drops of blood. You feel Mark shift his weight before tugging you through the crowd away from the stage, you try to follow your movements, having some difficulty with the daze of being hit.

Mark helps you over to a more secluded part of the venue. After a while Mark sets you down on a bench. You let out a groan as you raise your hand to your face, trying to keep the flow of blood from staining your clothes.

“Wait here.” Mark turns on his shoes and dashes across the venue. You look up to the roof, after some time you hear Mark's hurried footsteps behind you. He kneels next to you in the flow, handing you a handful of paper napkins for your nose.

“Thanks,” You murmur as you take the pile. Your blood easily soaks through the first few layers of paper before you get it under control. You try to pull your head back when you feel Mark's hand on the back of your head directing you forward.

“Lean forward, not back.” Mark directs as you do as told. After a few seconds you feel Mark's hand move down to your back, rubbing gentle circles as the two of you sit in silence. After a few minutes you feel the blood flow slow down.

“So, think my nose is broken?” You ask as you gently wipe the blood from your face.

“Nah, definitely not broken. You’re going to have one heck of a bruise though.” Mark warns. After a few seconds you feel something ice cold touch your cheek. You let out a surprised yelp as you lean away from the touch. You look over to see Mark handing you a cup with ice in it.

“Here, so it doesn’t swell.” You sit back up and take the cup with your free hand and gently press it on your face where you were struck.

“You’re… kinda good at this first-aid thing.”

“I've been playing hockey for years, you learn these type of things.” Mark scoffs. His eyes soften as you move the napkins from your nose, showing the bleeding has almost stopped. “Sorry you took an elbow to the face. I didn’t even see that guy come up to you.”

“Neither did I.” You admit as you pull the bloodied napkins away from your face, using one of the clean ones to clean any extra blood from your hands and face. “So, be honest, how bad does it look?”

“Like I said, you’ll be bruised tomorrow, but, it doesn’t look that bad.” Mark offers with a small smile. “The ice helped, at least your face isn’t swollen.”

“Thanks for the ice.” You offer as you look down at the cup of ice Mark had handed you, you frown a little when you see the logo on the side of the cup. “Did you…run all the way to the other side of the venue?”

“… Yes.”

“Thats-” Mark glances in the direction of the hallway, “At least two hundred meters away.”

“… Yes.”

“You ran.”

“…I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“You-” You can't help but break into a little laugh, “You, are trying to be modest about running across the arena just to get something for my nose and face.”

“You were bleeding,” Mark points out.

“Yeah, but I could’ve used my shirt or something. You didn’t have to run like…half a mile to get something for me.”

“I run on ice pretty much everyday" Mark scoffs, shaking his head at you. You smile, standing up and reaching out for Mark.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

Mark stares at you for a second before taking your hand. You pull him up and tug him along the arena, finding the exit. "So you say you play hockey?"

He nods, "Yeah. I'm the captain of the team," he smirks.

"No shit," you say.

Mark laughs. "What?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, "its just curious because my best friend is the captain of the hockey team in my uni."

"Cool, what's your friend's name?" He asks.

"Uhm Lee, Lee Donghyuck," you say.

He stops walking and he stares at you. "Dickhyuck is your best friend?"

You burst out laughing at the nickname he has given him. Oh boy, he indeed is a dick. "What did he do to you?"

"Sorry for the nickname, I was just shocked you're friends with him," he scratches the back of his neck. "He is an asshole."

"He is," you nod.

He cocks an eyebrow. "I thought you were friends."

"We are, and we might stop being friends. Long story," you sigh.

He nods. "So, uhm, next week is the playoffs, would you like to come?"

"Uhm yeah, of course. I just need to tell you that I know nothing about hockey." You giggle a bit.

"I'll explain anything you need to know," He beams at you.

(...)

𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝.

𝚆𝚑𝚢?

𝙸’𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚘?

𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

White hot jealousy surges through Donghyuck as he reads your last text. Why is he jealous? He has no right to feel jealous when he has been clear to himself you're just his friend and his fuck-buddy. He's into Yujin, right?

He throws his phone to the bed and sits in front of his computer. Why is he so upset? Is it because he's horny and you're not around? Or is it because he likes you?

Bullshit.

He shakes his head, removing that thought. He is not in love with you.

Donghyuck stands up and goes to his bed unlocking his phone. He texts Jeno asking if he's busy, who replies back saying no. He needs a beer.

Donghyuck meets Jeno at the regular bar they used to go to. They're sitting next to the bar. Jeno stares at him and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. "What?"

"You're grumpier than usual, what's wrong?" Jeno inquires.

"Nothing," Donghyuck has a sip of his beer.

"Is it... maybe y/n?" Jeno hums.

Jeno is tired of it. It seems everyone around you knows that you two are in love, but apparently the two of you can't open your eyes. Or at least Donghyuck.

"No idea what you're talking about," Donghyuck murmurs.

Jeno sighs. "Why do you keep denying it?"

Donghyuck growls. "I'm not denying shit."

Jeno rolls his eyes and crosses his arms on his chest. "You have to be an idiot to not see the way you two look at each other. And the way you two... you know... shagging, you could say it's love. Real love."

"What are you on, Jeno?" Donghyuck glances at him.

"I'm sober, but thanks for your concern," Jeno smirks. "But you my friend, you are high off your ass on feelings."

"Shut up," Donghyuck groans and finishes his beer. He makes the waiter a signal to bring another one.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Jeno dares him.

Donghyuck stares at the beer bottle, thinking. Is Jeno right? Is he high off his ass on feelings for you?

He thinks of you: Donghyuck loves your hair and adores the way you raise your eyebrows when you're talking about something that excites you. Your lips fascinates him and the ease you have when speaking in front of many people seems incredible to him. His heart starts skipping a beat just of the thought of you: you have too much effect on him.

Shit.

Donghyuck is really in love with you.

(...)

Donghyuck sighs as he pulls off his helmet and wipes at his sweaty brow. The air is cold against his skin and he can see his hot breath. He is tired as the second period ends, he skates across the ice towards the exit. He has 5 minutes before the third period starts.

Donghyuck drinks water before sitting on the bench. The ice hockey arena is full, with both schools attending the game. He sees some people he knows, some of his friends: Jungwoo, Renjun, Yangyang and Jisung. Jeno is in the team with him.

Then his sight freezes on someone that looks like you. Donghyuck stares at her for a couple of seconds to later realize it's you. You're there with Johnny and someone he doesn't know.

He frowns. You hate hockey, what are you doing there?

He follows your face, smiling to someone and he curses when he sees who you're waving your hand off.

Fucking Mark Lee.

Of course he had seen his face before and the day of the party, when you were dancing with him he thought he had seen him before.

That's who you are dating.

Donghyuck feels sad, knowing that you never accepted to go to one of his games and there you are, cheering for someone else.

"I swear that girl looks like y/n," Jeno tells him.

"It's y/n," Donghyuck states, grabbing his helmet.

"Huh?" Jeno gives him a confused look.

"She's dating Mark."

“The Mark Lee we hate?” Jeno shakes his head. “That’s… unexpected.”

“Whatever,” Donghyuck puts on his helmet.

You would lie if you say you haven't been seeing Donghyuck. He's so smooth the ice, he moves as if he had been born on the ice. Then you would cheer for Mark's team even tho, deep down, you want Donghyuck's team to win.

Jeno chases the puck behind the back of the net. Shovels it out to Donghyuck, past the waiting stick Sicheng's stick. Donghyuck takes it up the ice, looking for an open. Ten shakes free of Mark, makes himself available. Donghyuck takes the open, approaching the blue line, passes the puck to Ten, but Mark takes the puck up the right—oh! And Donghyuck goes down hard! He deals out a devastating hit. There's a whistle. Oh, this is not good. He’s not getting up.

The entire bench is on their feet in an instant. Jeno has ripped his helmet off and skates over with as much speed as his bulky pads could muster, shooing away the circle of their concerned team mates.

Donghyuck hasn't moved since he has fallen, his limbs locked in the same position they had been just before the hit.

"Why is he not moving, Johnny?" You ask.

"I don't know," he states.

You leave your seat, almost running towards the ice rink. They don't let you in and you argue you need to make sure he is okay.

Jeno kneels beside Donghyuck, he can see that his dark eyes are unblinking, wide and blank.

“Come on, Hyuck breathe for me,” Jeno says insistently.

"Hyuck!" He hears you scream. "Hyuck!"

Donghyuck draws a few stuttering breaths as he slowly swims towards something resembling consciousness. It becomes readily apparent that he can't move his left arm. "Let her in."

"What?" Jeno frowns.

"y/n," Donghyuck tries to lean forward.

Jeno turns and sees you arguing with the security guard. "She can't get on the ice without skates, she could get hurt."

Donghyuck groans and watches the paramedics bring the backboard out.

“I can walk off,” Donghyuck slurs.

“Hell no, you're no—“

Jeno is interrupted as the crowd erupts all around them. Lifting his head quickly, he spots Mark and Sicheng throwing their gloves off and locking together. Helmets are ripped off, jerseys pulled and punches thrown wildly. Before Donghyuck can shout at his team partner, the cry from the crowd goes up again. Ten and Taeyong (a guy from Mark's team) separate them.

Donghyuck leans over the backboard as they prepare to carry him off the ice. "We're so doomed."

(...)

“A five minute penalty for interference and game misconduct? That’s a fucking disgrace,” Ten grouses.

“The board’s reviewing it. With a hit like that, he should get a harsher punishment,” Jeno adds.

“If he’s not suspended for the rest of the games, someone’s getting my stick shoved up their arse,” Sicheng says.

A murmur of agreement goes around the room.

“I thought the nurse said only three visitors at a time,” Donghyuck rasps, not bothering to try to lift his head. He can't even keep his eyes open. It makes the room spin. Everything seems… too loud. And the pain on his right collarbone is too much.

“Oh, so you are awake. Here we were all worrying about you and you’re faking,” Jeno says teasingly.

Donghyuck can't bring himself to rise to the bait. Keeping himself awake is hard enough work as it is.

“…Hyuck?” You call as you open the door slightly.

The room is silent for a few moments and the guys look at you. Donghyuck opens his eyes and spots your head between the door. "Leave. Now." He's talking to his team mates.

Jeno, Sicheng and Ten leave the room. You say goodbye to them as they leave the room. You walk standing next to him and realize he's wearing a triangular sling. "Hey."

"Hey," he greets. "Disappointed to know I didn't die?"

"Shut up," you look at him. "I was so worried."

"You pushed a security guard," he cocks an eyebrow at you.

You giggle. "He wouldn't let me in. I wanted to make sure you were okay," you place a hand on his.

"And I appreciate that, you could've gotten hurt," he takes your hand to his lips and places a soft kiss.

You sigh at the scene. "I don't care."

"I do," his eyes dart to you.

"Why don't you get some rest?" You sit next to him.

"I’m having surgery in a bit," he rests his hands interlocked with yours on his chest.

"What? Why?" You ask worried.

"Broken collarbone," he sighs.

"Oh, Hyuck," you lower your head sadly.

"I'll be fine," he squeezes your hand. "And I'll be right back in the ice to beat your boyfriend up."

"Mark's not my boyfriend," you say quickly. "And after today, I don't want to see him ever again."

"It was an accident; these things happen y/n."

"He knows about us, he heard me talking to Johnny about it today before the game," you don't look at him in the eye. "I’m sorry, Hyuck."

"Hey," he frees your hand and cups your face. "This isn't your fault, okay? Don't torture yourself, it's not your fault he couldn't handle it."

You nod. A nurse enters the room telling you they need to prepare him for surgery. You say goodbye to him and kiss his cheek.

"Just lay there, Hyuck," Jeno helps him to lay on his bed. He has been discharged from the hospital that morning and his friends are taking turns to take care of him.

"I'm so fucking high, dude," Hyuck laughs, squeezing his eyes. "What are on these meds? I feel like flying."

"Those are your painkillers, my friend," Jeno shakes his head, "enough of them for you today."

There's a knock on the door and Jeno walks to it. He opens it and he sees you with a bag of food. You smile. "Hi, Jeno."

"Hey, come in," he says.

You thank him and follow him. As you reach Donghyuck's room, Jeno stops. "Now, I should warn you, he’s pretty out of it,” he says.

“That’s fine,” You reply . “I think I can handle it."

He nods. "I have practice, I'll be back later, okay?"

"Don't worry, we'll be fine," you say.

You enter the room and you are greeted with the sight of Donghyuck reclining on his bed, looking a million miles away. You walk over to peer down at him.

“Hey Hyuck. How are you feeling?”

Jon tilts his head to look up at you. “y/n? Issat you?”

You smile. “Yeah, it’s me. Those pain meds did a number on you, huh?”

“I’m so happy to see you too,“ he says, smiling at you.

You beam wider, his dark eyes are unfocused but still shining brightly. It is unfair, how gorgeous his eyes are.

"Get some rest, Hyuck," you grab a blanket to tuck him.

He stares at you, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. “No! I wanna cuddle with you!”

"Okay okay," you say and you manage to get him tucked under the blankets. As soon as you're finished, you sit down and he rests his head on your chest.

"This is my favorite place," he states, tracing his fingers on your skin.

"Because my boobs are close to your face?" You mock him.

"Because I can hear your heart beating for me," he smiles.

You choke a sound. What is he saying?

"Cheesy," you mock him again.

"I love you."

You chuckle, nervously. "You're so high."

"I am high but I love you." He stares at you. "I fucking love you, y/n."

You press your lips together. "Let's talk about this when you're not high up on meds."

(...)

It's been two weeks since you have seen Donghyuck. Two weeks since he told you he loves you. You don't know if he is regretful for what he told you or he didn't mean it.

Of course your pride won't let you text him and you learn from Jeno he has gotten his stitches removed and he will be back in practice in 8 weeks since he has some recovery to do.

You're exiting the library when you feel someone grabs your hand. You turn to see who is there and you see Donghyuck smiling. "Hello, baby cheeks."

You cross your arms on your chest. "And finally the devil shows up."

"Devil? I'm hurt," he places a hand on his chest.

You roll your eyes and turn on your heels. He sighs and grabs your arm. "Okay, I deserve that. But hey, I want to talk with you." He says as he stands in front of you.

"About what?" You cock an eyebrow. “Or you wanna fuck me and don't talk to me for days?

He lowers his head. “No. I wanna talk about us.”

"We're not fucking," you state.

"We are not," he nods.

That is a lie. Back in his dorm, you two are kissing, desperately. You walk over towards the bed, still kissing. It's a soft loving kiss that makes your heart melt. His kiss is sweet, probably from something he ate, and slow. He breaks away to look at you, "I love you" he whispers.

"So do I" you say.

He smiles and goes in for another kiss, this time a little more fiery, it's still slow but now he's using his tongue to lick at your bottom lip, eyes fluttered closed.

You tug on his hair ever so slightly, you know he likes that. He moans quietly and you bite his lip. He gets on top of you, and you can start to feel the start of an erection on your leg.

At this point both your tongues are swirling together. He slowly brings his hand up from your waist, to under your breast and cups your breast with his, squeezing it, all while looking him directly in the eye. His erection feels stronger now. You push your knee upward to create some type of friction between him and your thigh and he groans.

Donghyuck plays with your nipple through your bra, right hand still gripping your waist, tight. He pinches and pulls your nipple in a way that causes you to roll your hips forward and moan his name.

He flips you over and now he's beneath you and you're sitting on his lap, feeling his cock in your clothed ass. You start to grind on his hips, the outline of his cock can be felt even through the layers of your clothing. You can feel the heat emanating from it and you can't help but rock your hips against his gently. “Look at me,” he orders.

You look at him, his pupils are dilated and his cheeks up to his neck and shoulders have the prettiest blush on it.

You are gripping the edge of his shirt, looking so utterly innocent. He dives for your next and start nipping, placing light bites and kisses as he abuses that one sensitive spot

“Hyuck please” you feel tickling sensations that feel really good. That gasses Donghyuck up because he loves nothing more than hearing your groans and moans.You feel the slight moisture gathering on your underwear.

“Use your words, baby. ,” he says while he continues sucking and licking on that sensitive part of your neck. His hands start wandering and are now placed on top of your breast, kneading and lightly brushing your erect nipples through your bra.

“Please,” you ground your hips on his growing erection. He answers back by gripping your exposed thighs, putting a stop to the teasing he did on your breast.

“Please what baby?” he teases. Donghyuck is doing little circles with his thumbs as he grips your thighs. You feel him smiling against your neck before he bites hard on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You moan. “Please fuck me,” you finally answer.

“Why should i?” Donghyuck asks, very visibly teasing, letting his teeth run through your shoulder.

“Please, I'm so wet for you and I missed you so much. Please Hyuck."

Donghyuck has the audacity to chuckle. Remove my shirt then,” he challenges.

Obedient as you are, you hurriedly take off his shirt and start pressing bites and kisses on his exposed chest. You give a soft kiss on his scar where he had surgery weeks ago. He can't help but let out his groans of pleasure. His large hands are back on your chest, massaging your breasts through the fabric, gently running his hands through then and giving them a squeeze, the cycle repeats again. Then, with a little help from you, he unclasped your bra. You take it off. You kiss him again.

“Wait baby,” he starts, eyes scanning the expanse of your chest. “I want to eat you out." He finishes.

You nod at his proposal. You get off from his lap (your arousal slightly darkening a patch on his light jeans) and you lay on your back. Donghyuck goes in front of you and plops on his stomach. You are buzzing with anticipation as he spreads your legs open, hands caressing your thighs and ghosting over that area where you want it the most. Donghyuck lifts his head a little to admire you: breathing heavily, erect nipples and the undeniable arousal drenching your pink lace panties.

Donghyuck's arousal is straining through his sweatpants so he decides to discard it. He is left in his white, skin tight boxers with a faint outline of his dick. Then, he situates himself between your thighs. Instead of removing your panties, he decides to tease you a little through them, gently sliding his middle finger up and down your clothed wetness.

“So fucking wet, baby” he muses.

You bite your finger as he torturously drags his long finger up and down your clothed cunt.

“Ah shit,” you moan. "Fuck me good, Hyuck."

He pulls your underwear aside and starts dragging his finger on your cunt for real. He does small shallow thrusts and proceeds to drag his finger out. Donghyuck is doing this repeatedly almost in a torturous manner.

"Fuck, go faster,"

He doesn't go faster. Instead he situates himself between your legs and puts his tongue on your soaked cunt. You can't help but moan as he licks a stripe up while spreading your lips, maximizing the sensitivity you feel. You are gripping his sheets hard and moaning his name along with strings of “oh fuck, yes please”. He moves his mouth upwards and starts licking your clit, putting harsh but enjoyable pressure. Donghyuck proceeds to put a finger inside you slowly, up to his second knuckle, then another one, drawing out a moan.

“Look at my fingers baby, so fucking wet.” he lifted his fingers up for you to see.

“I want more, faster, Hyuck, I’m going to cum.”

He smiles at you. “No. you’re not allowed to cum until I fuck you with my dick.”

You groan. You look at him and he is now kneeling, a hand situated on his now somewhat translucent boxers, outline of his dick now visible. He then strokes himself through his boxers as he stares right at you. Donghyuck is biting his lip softly as he takes out his dick and starts playing with the tip.

“You like it when I stroke myself while you watch, baby?” His eyes are hooded and he is already sweaty.

“Yes,” you said. “fuck yes.”

“Put it in your mouth,” Donghyuck motions for you to come closer.

You put his dick in your mouth and start engulfing his dick. His abdomen becomes taut as he groans and starts threading his hand on your hair.

“So good, baby. Always so good,” he rasps.

You continue hollowing your cheek and putting him in your mouth as deep as you can. You bob your head up and down and when you look up, Donghyuck looks absolutely

“Baby,” Donghyuck's voice is husky. “Baby stop, i want to cum inside you."

“Lie on your back,” Donghyuck commands as he strips himself of his boxers.

You waste no time and you lay on your back, waiting for his instructions. He props a pillow under your head and by doing so, you feel his erection on your thigh. He takes one last glance at you: nipples fully erect, cheeks flushed, your body sweaty, and your pussy absolutely drenched. He then starts inserting his dick in your aching pussy.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he chants. “you’re so fucking tight and wet.” Then he pushes himself up to the hilt.

“Full,” you whisper and meet his eyes, “so dman full.”

Donghyuck groans and starts thrusting at an erratic pace. It feels so full and hot that you can’t stop moaning his name over and over again. You can feel his cock slide in and out of your soaked cunt. He clasps his hands just above where your ribs end firmly as he starts fucking you faster, hips snapping up and you can’t help but arch your back.

Donghyuck is definitely enjoying the view and he reaches his hand out to pinch your nipples. You moan. You can definitely feel your impending orgasm.

“Hyuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum,” you look at him and his thrusts go harder. “oh god I’m gonna cum Donghyuck.”

“Cum, baby.” He puts his hand on your clit and starts rubbing with his thumb, hoping to bring you closer to orgasm.

You feel the coil getting tighter and hotter. Then you come, long and hard and your body feels like jelly.

"I'm almost there baby, fuck," he chants as he trusts so deliciously in you and your body can't take much longer. You know he has the full intention of overstimulating you and it feels good. His cock feels so raw in your pussy and you can't help but feel another orgasm.

The feeling of his cock sliding so smoothly inside of you then out then in again while your chests were in such close proximity and he is directly groaning in your ear. Donghyuck seems to be enjoying himself as his groans are becoming huskier and more prolonged as he told you, “Baby you’re so fucking tight, so tight around my cock.” He goes back to kissing you sloppily, your teeth biting his lower lip as he glares at you so menacingly and hot.

“Hyuck, baby I’m g-going to cum again.” you inform him as he lifts himself and wipes with drool on the edge of your mouth.

“Let’s cum together, eh?” he asks and you nod.

Donghyuck pulls out of you and you are about to protest until he speaks “Ass up for me baby,” he says.

Your body sings in anticipation as this is the first time, after a long while, he is going to take you from behind. You stuck your ass out and you feel him slap your cunt then insert his finger in your pussy and slaps your ass this time.

“Such a good girl for me,” he starts. then he suddenly thrust his dick inside your pussy and moans in your ear, “So fucking good.” Donghyuck then starts to grip your breasts from behind, pinching your nipples as his thrusts became more erratic.

“’Gonna cum, shit shit” He groans. The rhythmic slapping of your bodies is so sinful it turns him on.

You moan gripping his sheets, you can swear your knuckles are so white from the grip.

“I'm so close baby, so close.” Donghyuck is massaging your breast.

“Hyuck, please, Hyuck I'm so close.”

Donghyuck's thrusts are getting more erratic and you are positive that you’re going to cum soon. Then, you feel Donghyuck hugging you from behind. The act feels so intimate that you can't help but clench and then both of you are cumming. Donghyuck gives one last thrust then he pulls out. He look at your backside: his cum dripping out from your cunt, then to your thighs and that looks absolutely erotic.

“I'm gonna clean you up, okay baby?" He says, “Just lay there and I’ll take care of you.”

He goes to get towels and you lay on your back. He comes back and passes the small towel over your thighs and then your pussy carefully, knowing you're still sensitive. “Feeling okay?” he asks when he finishes it up, throwing the towel somewhere in the room and laying on the bed next to you.

You hum, smiling lazily at him. “just sleepy.” You reply and he moves to press a small kiss on your lips.

"Then sleep, baby," he surrounds you with his arms, you resting your head on his chest.

You raise your head a bit, looking at him. "Are you sleeping with me?"

He nods. His finger touches the tip of your nose and he smirks. “I never notice you had a mole here.” He says.

"Yeah, you're kind of a dick," you giggle, tracing his abdomen with your fingers.

"I am," he sighs. "I'm sorry. I was too selfish denying my feelings for you and thought behaving like a dick would push you away."

"And I almost did," he kisses the top of your head. "I'm sorry, y/n."

"It's okay," you say. "As long as you don't do it again because this time I'm gonna be the one breaking your other collarbone."

He laughs. "I'm not ever letting you go, baby. I love you."

"I love you."

#Donghyuck smut #Donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagine #Haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan imagine #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct haechan #nct haechan x reader

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buckyjamess-archive · 3 years

Text

𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

chapter eighteen • a/n: last chapter folks- wanna thank all those who interacted/read it, I hope you enjoyed it! ♡ gonna miss these fools, ngl • wordcount: 2k • warnings: nothing but fluff. Parenthood. Babies. Kids.

summary

going through rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.

masterlist

His hands are warmer and maybe even bigger as his fingers are intertwined with yours, gently swaying back and forth, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand or a light squeeze to remind you he's still there.

a few steps ahead, rosie groans, huffs and puffs as she pushes the stroller the best she can. Talking to her little brother who gurgles back just as much.

"You're really heavy!"

a soft pink, round handbag with minnie mouse printed on the front hangs loosely in Steve's other hand. Handed to him seconds after leaving the restaurant by Rosie herself as she offered to push her little brother back home. A heavy diaper bag he'd taken off the stroller to take away some weight, hangs of his shoulder– you told him you could carry one of the two but Steve being Steve, refused your offer and instead clamped his hand in yours.

A day out planned by the man walking next to you. A day with the four of you, letting Rosie and JJ get used to Steve being around for more than the two hours every night before getting tucked in. That Steve wasn't just a friend anymore– though Rosie 'just knew' when you told her Steve was more than a friend, a special friend.

'I don't kiss my friends like that'

Rosie didn't mind, or at least you think. She was good with everyone, stranger or not. Opening up to Steve wasn't a problem, becoming friends with Steve came easy for the girl.

And bucky, bucky would always be dad.

'Now I have three daddies. My real daddy, my normal daddy and steve.'

And though you never intended to let Steve in your life so quickly, it became serious pretty fast.

Delicately glueing back each other's pieces left of a broken heart; giving solace, a shoulder to cry on and someone to hold. Steve and you never intended to become this, you were just friends, used-to-be-coworkers. It happened. Bucky no longer floating through your head every other minute or feeling that ache in your chest– just you and Steve and for now after the heartbreak Bucky caused you could in all honesty say that Steve Rogers treated you better than anyone ever did.

The stroller comes to a halt when Rosie stills in front of the apartment block. She let's go of the stroller and places both hands on her sides, bright yellow sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose, she sighs heavily.

"That was heavy."

You and Steve chuckle at Rosie her stance as if an old man admiring his self-built furniture, sarcasm dripping from her body yet as innocent as can be.

"I bet it was, kid."

"Yes, JJ eats too much."

"Says the girl who ate all my fries."

Letting go of your hand, Steve hands Rosie back her own bag which she happily takes– slipping the diaper bag from his shoulder, you wrap your hand around it and carefully toss it over your own. Hand digging in to find your keys. Taking the few steps up the building, you push open the door and watch how Steve casually carries the stroller and JJ up the steps and follows Rosie in the building.

The walk to the elevator is short, the three of you and the stroller packed tight in the small space– you stay quiet, watching the interaction between Rosie and Steve, your heart grows ten times its size. You thank the gods above for giving you all these amazing men in your life, even if they broke your heart in different ways- teaching you the ways of life, giving the best things to ever exist, trusting you, caring about you..loving you.

Riley, your first real love. The one that changed your life forever. Teaching the ropes of this crazy thing called adult life. Be the calm to your chaos. Showed you love like you'd never had before– sure enough about it all to put a ring around your finger and giving you the most important job of them all; be a mother to a beautiful, funny and feisty daughter. Riley who gave you real heartbreak, leaving an empty hole in your heart and took a piece of your soul with him

Sam who stood by your side through it all. Going through the process together of losing a spouse and partner on the field. Your shoulder to lean on when things got rough, a friend of your man turned into your best friend– showing you the meaning of family by letting you into his own.

Bucky who stole your heart so fast, you never had a chance to let it settle– a wild man willing to wait. A wild man who showed you that life after Riley could be something beautiful; taught you how to love again, brought you back to life and gave you the gift you call your son, gave Rosie a father figure. Bucky the best mistake you'd ever made in your life.

And maybe all these men were needed to get you with the one. Without Riley no Sam and without Sam no Bucky, and you'd never have met Steve if you didn't move to Brooklyn. All these men lead you to him.

Steve. The man who picked up the pieces and put them back together– the man you so desperately needed in your life. The calm that Riley once gave you and the wild and silly bucky once showed. The one for real this time.

Even if things didn't go your way, men changing every chapter of your book– life was pretty amazing.

Steve must've seen the slight wobble of your chin and your eyes filling with tears. His firm hand back into yours, you look up to meet his blues, you shoot him a tight lipped smile.

"Mommy, why are you crying?"

You inhale deeply, quickly wiping away the tears that have made their way down your cheeks and not trusting your own voice, you smile at your daughter but shrug.

"You know what I think?" Steve quips, the hand that's intertwined with yours now snaking around your waist to pull you ever closer into his side "I think mom's just really happy."

Rosie nods unsure but gives a toothy grin "then I'm happy too, then we're all happy."

"Then we're all happy."

He reads you like an open book, something you got to love and hate over the last few weeks. Nitpicking little flaws to get under your skin or be the biggest sap whenever you're feeling down; he knows you like the back of his hand.

"This is so stupid," you breath out a shaky chuckle "Jesus, I'm crying in an elevator–"

"It's not stupid," Steve reassures "we're all just very happy, right?"

"Yeah." You nod.

Squeezing your side, Steve let's you know he's there and plants a kiss to your temple before resting his chin upon your head.

"I love you, sweetheart."

Bucky can't quite believe it himself; just a month ago he labeled Steve Rogers as his arch enemy and wish bad things upon the blonde and now, now bucky hopes and wishes the blonde would treat you better than anyone else– welcomed Steve into the mess.

At ease, okay, alright but above all grateful. You didn't kick him out of your life or that of his kids– you wouldn't be the first mother to do such a thing, he's seen it on TV multiple times. Bucky's grateful that you and him still were a thing just not the same. Parents of your kids, friends.

Though jealousy would strike once in a while and he reminded himself of the mistake he'd made, It was good this way.

Big helium balloons in the shape of letters and numbers float above the table shoved against the wall, reading 'JJ 1 YEAR'. Silver birthday garlands hanging from ceilings along the baby blue and white balloons– table filled with snacks, gifts and drinks. Cramped in your apartment but done together– texting back and forth, nights of planning brought you all here, JJ his first birthday.

Friends and family here to celebrate something the two of you made from love.

Bucky leans against the kitchen bar, one hand tucked deep into the pocket of his jeans and the other wrapped around a bottle of beer. Eyes upon the small crowd gathered and lands on Steve, barely on his knees next to a side table, small plastic tiara on his head as Rosie applies makeup on the guy's face from the set she'd just got as a gift from uncle Sam.

Bucky smiles, at least you picked a child magnet, a guy who'll love his kids as much as the two of you do.

Bucky scans the crowd again and spots you without any problem, another smile on his face at the sight of his godchild hailey holding JJ, probably gossiping around with you.

It's good this way.

"Hey man."

Snapping out of his own world, Bucky meets the eyes of a man he hasn't spoken to in months; sam. Not since he got to learn about Bucky's mistake.

"Hey." Bucky shoots him a tight lipped smile.

Standing still next to Bucky, Sam leans against the bar in the same stance and follows Bucky's gaze to the crowd to you, his son and hailey.

"He looks like you." Sam confesses "scary."

Letting his head fall, Bucky chuckles and nods "at least we know it's mine."

Sam chuckles along till it dies down, silence falling over both men as they keep watching the scene in front of them. How you leave Hailey with her nephew and mingle with some friends– bucky can feel Sam's eyes burning on his face.

"Told you so, didn't I?"

Bucky snorts "Let's not go there, I've learned my lesson."

"Do you?" Sam quips with a grin on his face "No new love on the horizon?"

Bucky nods, he has learned his lesson and he knows he'll never find someone like you again– he has definitely learned his lesson and definitely not ready for something new.

"No man, I'm going to focus on my kids." Bucky breathes out a soft chuckle "apparently I still have two."

"Rosie loves you– I have to thank you for that, giving Rosie a father figure."

"Wouldn't trade it for anything else."

"I know."

Another, comfortable silence falls like a thick blanket. Knowing each other well enough to know what they're thinking– a smile creeping on both men's faces at the sight of you pushing yourself past some people and beelining towards the duo.

"Mind If I join?"

Scooting aside, both Sam and bucky make space for you in between and your arm that snakes around Bucky's back gives him a warm and fuzzy feeling– he pulls you closer into his side with his arm dropped over your shoulder

"A year ago you nearly passed out." You mumble softly

"I didn't pass out." Bucky scoffs

"I said nearly–"

"Not even nearly."

"The nurses had to sit you down."

"They never–"

"They did!"

It's a game of back and forth, getting underneath each other's skin and Bucky hopes things like this will never change even if you decided to spend the rest of your life with steve. The silly arguments, the silly fights and the lame jokes– bucky would be alright as long as that stayed.

The squeeze around his side makes Bucky aware you're still there. Locking eyes with yours, one's he's found himself lost in many times before, he copies your smile.

"What?"

"Nothing– we did good." You state.

Though things didn't go the way it was supposed to, the two of you did good indeed, more than good even.

"I think we did amazing." Bucky smiles back.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder a bit tighter, he places a quick kiss on your forehead before following your gaze into the crowd, his daughter, his son, his family and steve.

It's good this way.

"So, guys," Sam clears his throat from beside you "really gotta know what happened on hailey her birthday party that day."

"No, you don't." You and Bucky chuckle in unison "you really don't."

Taglist: @farfromshawn @Nicollettemarie @wooya1224 @felicityofbakerstreet @agentmstark @sierrax023 @lilyevanswhore @qhbr2013 @buckybarnesobsessed @themaddies-obx @aloserwithoutacause @aanngie @sebby-staan @sweetth1ng @starrystarkey93 @libidinexx @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @gasly-kvyat @brown-bi-beautiful @peter-laufeyson @im-squished @meshlababy @lindseyrae20 @cb97skies @qwccrr @ssprayberrythings @yougottalovefandoms @jbcalway @realgaytrash @natyvwe @poetryazenth @winterberryfox @ahahafudge @okiegirl24 @0moondoodler0 @why-wait-4-eventually @abzidabzy

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #rosie and i*

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batarella · 3 years

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3 birds 1 stone - chapter 12

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: We continue the three perspectives!!! AND we got special appearances from a few characters today eeeeee we’re so close to the finale. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

WORDS: 12,068 WARNINGS: violence, arm dislocation, muscle injuries, alcoholism, mentions of coffee addiction and insomnia

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

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Dick:

That day, this all ends.

Telling himself he got into this mess because he hadn’t a choice, that he hadn’t already stopped because it was all just too riveting and captivating and not at all within his control, was nothing short of a lie.

He had every say in it.

But not even his fucking conscience could convince him to stop. He wanted this mess. Dove right into the lava. He knew every bit of the heartbreak he’d have to endure and he willingly brought it to himself. To get lost into the deep dark woods, with nothing more than an oil lamp, to be pricked by the many thorns and suffocated by the leaves and trees that crowd about much like a bush. To get lost in her, and never want to climb out of any of it. He knew how slippery the road ahead of him was and still he kept going, kept driving, sped up a little even when he thought he’d actually get to where the stars pointed him to.

But so profoundly was his loss of himself, without much effort at all to escape from those grasps even when he told himself he did; going to another woman, wanting the same arrest of his heart to hopefully take him away, but without halting those thoughts of Y/N and how her smile that he’d seen earlier that day would last until dark, maybe even beyond that. Those flares of her face and her voice and how he let them speak to her every night, change them into burning whispers against his ear when he’s memorized her voice too much to make her say anything he wanted her to, even when they only last in his head.

Dick never tried to stop her from taking her heart like that, even when he had to watch her be with another.

Tonight, it all ends. Every bit of this torture that he brought only to himself, it all comes to this sorry halt.

Dick, standing atop a roof of an office building in Dresher, knew that at that moment, he had to sit this one down. He had to be alone and in the darkness to make this as painful as it possibly could, hoping that if all that pain were to be felt now, compress them into this little tub of static blackness, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad the next day, and the day after that. Even when he knew this would backfire, he had to.

No one, especially not Y/N, would want him to end up with her. Tim deserved her. Hell, even Jason’s done a lot more for her sake than he had. He can't hope anymore. He can't let this go on.

All this would have gone better if he’d known this sooner.

So with him on that rooftop, sitting on the ledge fifty stories above as if not at all was he a push away from death, Dick let his finger scroll across his phone’s screen moist from his sweat. The battery was going to run out soon. He’d been there for hours, staring at that same picture of her from the day in the nursery, when the sun had been kind to her, touching the surface of her skin so perfectly, it showed more of the little details that he’d already memorized. Those exact images would be thrown out by the end of tonight. Pack their bags. Scram them out the door.

It had, as expected, proven to be difficult.

The thirty-seven pictures he took that day, he’d already heartly remembered by the end of it. Countless of times, he pulled them out of his pocket just to take a second to look, even at the worst. Another month had passed and nothing had happened much since, nothing out the ordinary, which meant their friendship was back to how it used to be. They were friends.

And that was why it ends tonight. Because if he doesn’t fight these thoughts, if he doesn’t fight her, he loses her. He loses this friendship.

Are you sure you want to delete this photo?

Confirm.

Thirty-six times, he let his finger do the talking. Not his heart. Not even his brain.

At the last one, the screen was too distorted by a fallen tear that had seeped out of his domino mask for him to go on. It was the only hindrance he needed to give up and stop. At least for a second.

But he couldn’t even dwell on it too much, or let himself cry, let it burn his skin off enough so it wouldn’t hurt any more afterwards. He couldn’t even let himself have that luxury when he heard the thudding noise of his brother’s boot-cladded feet, a Bo staff that hit the ground, and a black cape that enforced a gust of wind to blow against the back of his head.

Dick just closed his eyes, and just after that, Tim walked over to stand right behind him.

Greatest Detective in the World. But even an idiot would know what he was up to, sitting in the darkness crying while his feet dangle off a rooftop’s ledge, eyes to his phone like he was reading the saddest sob story in the whole world or that he’d just received a text that one of his loved ones’ lives had been taken away from cancer.

The way Tim was silent, he knew.

And Dick just let him believe it, without even a word to explain himself, he did. He let Tim’s mind do the figuring out and the explaining because not even his own words would be half that truth.

Tim’s voice that night wasn’t the kind he heard often.

“You think this is the right time for that, Dick?”

A crack on his knuckles, his throat sounding rough and beaten, Dick didn’t know what to even say.

“We called you fifteen times over at the bridge. We needed you-“

“Sorry-“

“And it turns out you’ve been at your phone the whole time-“

“You handled it without me.”

“That isn’t the fucking point.”

A month of silence, since that deathly night after they took Y/N home. Several minutes, together in one car, had proven to be one of the most insufferable moments of his life. And not surprisingly, it went on for even more days after that.

Dick turned off his phone, but Tim snatched it away from his hands and walked away so Dick couldn’t grab it.

He stood from the ledge. “Come on, Tim. Not cool.”

“Hmm. Cute,” Tim faked a smile and swiped around the screen, at the last picture of Y/N he had. “Could have sent it to me. And Jason.”

“Tim-“

“But it’s cool,” Tim said. He threw the phone back at Dick and he caught it just before it hit the ground. “All good. Finally, you have something of her all to yourself, right?”

Tim was Tim. Not this. Not someone so angry and grievous and someone who was looking at him that way with so much disgust when he used to be that young boy of fourteen who looked at his older brother like a god. How long, he thought, must he have kept all this frustration bundled up inside, where not even he could reach into. Someone who’s so calm, so in control of what he says, had finally given in and let his annoyance flourish about. He wondered, as anyone would, at what point Tim had finally had enough of all of this.

“Tim, please-“

“You,” Tim pointed his gloved finger right at Dick’s face.

“You were supposed to be my brother.”

Tim:

Of course, he’s had enough.

He’s had enough of all this a lot longer than anyone else, even he, would have thought.

It might have been since that day Y/N was crying over an argument they once had, over something he can't even remember, that almost pried them apart, only for Dick to come along and console her without telling Tim where he was, and he only knew because Y/N told him what happened. If she hadn’t, Tim wouldn’t have known.

He wouldn’t have known Dick had long been pining over the love of his life, never mind how she was in his arms and kissing his lips and calling for his name.

Dick, who could have literally anyone he could possibly wish for, just had to want her.

“What do you want me to say?” The asshole started after a moment’s silence, of nothing but a helicopter’s whirl from far above, the lack of light from everywhere around them, and their footsteps against the empty cement.

He couldn’t even look at his brother in the eye with his mask on, but he knew enough to know what he felt. It didn’t matter if he was sincere. It didn’t even matter that he cried.

“Nothing,” Tim said. “You’ve done your damage.”

“Damage?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Enlighten me.”

Tim scoffed and faked yet another laugh. It annoyed himself at that point.

“You are unbelievable-“

“I’m not trying to do anything with her anymo-“

“Don’t even start with that, asshole.”

Tim’s hands were shaking, and subconsciously he tried to repress those tremors, hoping they’d go away if he clenched them enough, but they only got worse.

“She was mine,” he cried. “And you just couldn’t handle that-“

“I never tried anything with her when you were together.” Dick tried to step closer to him but he just backed away.

“So you weren’t just waiting for us to break up so you’d swoop in and be the hero?” he scoffed. “I asked you to make sure she was okay, not take advantage of her hurting just so you’d have your chance.”

“And why did you break up, Tim?” He had the audacity to ask. “You didn’t love her anymore-“

“You knew I still did-“

“Then why hurt her?!”

“Because I was hurting her anyway!”

Never. He’s never been this angry. Not that he could recall.

“I was 17. Everything about me changed. Wayne Enterprises. Red Robin. Fucking Bruce dying and coming back to life. She was there but I was about to lose my fucking mind. I thought she didn’t have a place in all that mess anymore so I broke it off.”

Finally, he stepped close enough to Dick, almost to leveling with his height. His brother had his lips hidden, hands falling to his sides.

He looked terrified.

“Two seconds after that, I never regret anything more my whole fucking life. I thought talking to you would make her feel better, but you just couldn’t help but bat your pretty little eyes at her when she was vulnerable. I wanted to go back but I couldn’t ‘cuz you were already there!”

He was snarling, and a growl escaped his throat by the time he backed away. Tim didn’t even get to hear himself until he saw his own reflection in the white of Dick’s mask.

But Dick. He didn’t even take it as a hint to just shut up and take his rambling.

“I never meant to keep her away from you-“

“I went to you, Dick.” Tim wiped his lips with the back of his gloves, watched over to the next building to avoid his brother’s face. “I always went to you for help. With her. You know how long I’ve wanted her. And I went to you because I thought you were my brother and you’d help me.”

“I did help you!”

“You were helping yourself!”

His hands slammed against Dick’s chest, and it was a good thing he didn’t fight back. He would have just taken that as an excuse to keep hitting.

“Tim,” Dick held his hands up. Tim backed away. “Just go to her-“

“THIS ISNT ABOUT HER ANYMORE, ASSHOLE!”

Hands shoving his chest once again. This time, Dick had caught them, held them by his wrists enough so Tim couldn’t pull them away.

“THIS IS ABOUT YOU AND ME, GRAYSON!” Tim screamed. “WHAT HAPPENED TO HAVING EACH OTHER’S BACKS!”

“YOU THINK IT WAS MY CHOICE TO GET IN BETWEEN YOU!?”

It was from a whip of strength not even he had known prior, but it hurt when he finally could take his hands off of Dick’s grip, and with that, he backed further away, though his eyes couldn’t stray from looking straight into his brother’s.

“IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER IF IT WAS-“

“THEN I’M SORRY!’ Dick swallowed. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?!”

“No,” Tim’s knees hit the railing and so close did he fall, but he kept himself up, rubbed the bottom of his chin with his gloved hand. “You're not sorry…”

Dick’s silence. Even more so did he want to just lunge at him and strangle his vocal chords. No matter how far-fetched, Dick was supposed to tell him all the things he wanted him to say. So far, he’s said none of that.

Dick just watched when Tim turned around to rest his weight onto his palms, looking out into the open seeking for just about any kind of help there was that he could call out from the wind, but there was nothing.

“You're right,” Dick said, and Tim felt the cement crack from beneath his palms. “I’m not sorry.”

“Fucking bold of you-”

“What would have happened to her if I hadn’t stepped in?” He heard Dick’s voice louder and clearer, which meant he was walking closer towards him.

“I would have come back. I always wanted to come back, but by then she was all over you. I couldn’t-“

Tim looked at his own hands. “I had it coming. I can't blame her.”

Another whiff of air, and it blew the strands of his black locks right onto his eyelids. They stung, but he didn’t push them away. He just kept his eyes locked onto the blankness of the gray, the dark that went all the way into his spirit.

“But I do blame you-“

“Tim, you hurt her-”

“AND YOU HAVENT?!”

Dick caught his Bo staff, which Tim had thrown right at him as swiftly as he turned around. His mouth was as dry as his palms were sweating. His teeth were close to breaking. And his eyes dangerously drifting off into some unknown nowhere just so he wouldn’t have to look at such betrayal.

“Tim-“

Tim was shaking, or at least his hands were, when he gave into his impulses and moved so fast, grabbing Dick by the collar and standing him down.

“You stand there blaming me for all that hurt when here you are-“

“What the hell do you want me to say to you?!”

He was strong, stronger than any one of them would have thought. Dick couldn’t even move, much less out of shock than it was out of his hold on him too overwhelming to counter.

“Tim, this isn’t like you-“

“You have no idea what I’ll do,” Tim growled. “Why do you think I became Red Robin?”

To separate himself from the likes of what it used to be. To not be Robin anymore. To stray away from his ideals, ideals and morals no longer his.

Because he was, in his truest capacity, capable of much darker things than people seem to know. Even his own brother.

“I hate you-“

Dick, who took that second to take advantage of weakness, grabbed him by the wrists and pushed him off with the soles of his feet, not enough to send him to the ground but enough to almost topple him. And when he looked up, immediately, Tim’s fist headed for his brother’s head, but again it was caught by Dick’s palm.

“HEY, HEY, HEY, ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!”

A much deeper, louder voice, the third one to be heard that night. It was that, and two strong arms that grabbed Tim by the shoulder and Dick by his suit’s back. Even when it wasn’t even to much effect, they stopped.

At least, for a second they did, before Tim started for Dick’s neck and he had to be held back with a strong hand right against his chest. “Let me go!”

“What the hell is going on with you two!?”

“Stay out of this Jason!”

It was easier for Jason to stand right in between, just to stop either of them from going after their skin. Dick had stopped. Tim, on the other hand, had to be held back by the shoulders. “Tim, calm down!”

“I said stay out of this!”

Jason:

“One of you pinheads tell me what’s going on!”

“Are you really gonna let Jason fight your battles, Dick?!”

Tim tried to push Jason out of the way. He was lucky, in fact, that none of them could see the irate look on his face hidden behind the safety of a red helmet. Otherwise they might have started for him too, just at how disgusted he looked at them both. And he had every right to be. He knew exactly why they were fighting. It was the devil in him who felt like asking.

Jason held him back with his cape. “Hey, KNOCK IT OFF-“

“Let go of me!”

“You don’t think I wanna bash this asshole’s brains out everyday, Tim?!” Jason hauled him to the floor. “Trust me. You can hold back.”

“Oh, fuck you, Todd.”

“You shut up.” Jason pointed at Dick. “If this is about Y/N I know exactly why Tim wants you dead.”

“And why am I the one you two’re ganging up on?!”

“If I was, Dick, I’d just let this one have at it with you. Thank me later.” Jason said, nodding over at Tim. Tim shrugged off his brother’s hold on him and frowned.

“You were never the one to trust, Dick,” Tim gulped. And Jason knew Dick would have thought the same. His flaring eyes, the burn that was almost never there from someone so usually calm. It was unnerving seeing Tim this way. “Look at everyone you’ve hurt. Y/N. Kori. When are you going to stop?”

“Don’t you fucking start with me, you little-“

“Hey! Knock it off!” Jason pushed Dick again with a shove of his hand. Dick stepped back.

“Jason, just get out of here -“

“I don’t know, man; Feels like I have to be the responsible one. For once.”

Tim grabbed Jason’s hand and hauled him to the side so he could step closer to where Dick was standing. “You don’t want to be a part of this.”

Jason, if not at all wanting that to be true in the slightest sense, didn’t fight back and took Tim’s shoving. But, as he’d thought, Dick was the one who looked at him so slyly he wanted to grab his lips and use them to haul him over the building.

Suddenly, every part of his skin wanted to burst, blood beating through every inch of vessel and flesh so much it burned him. His mouth sewed shut, ears hurting at the redness. Again, if not for the helmet, it would have been a dead giveaway.

But Dick wasn’t having it.

“Trust me, Tim. He already is.”

“What the hell do you mean-“

“I said, enough. You two settle this at home.”

Jason tried for Dick’s shoulder just to push him to back away, but he threw his hand off.

“Don’t fucking act like the good guy between the three of us,” Dick said. “What are you gonna say next? That this isn’t what Y/N would want?”

“You think it is?!”

Dick chortled and he turned away. Tim still wouldn’t let his glare away from his brother and if Jason would let him, he’d have mauled him to death.

“You always did think you knew what was best for her, didn’t you?”

“Jason, what the hell is he talking about?”

He never told him. The bastard never told Tim when he was so sure he would, when he basically told him that night outside Y/N’s doorstep that by the end of the hour, Tim would know what he’d done and he’d have found Jason by the next, even when he tries too hard to disappear, which he had tried to do for four months, hiding from his brother, and not long after he’ll never be welcomed into the manor as so much as a guest. It did surprise him, after many months, that Tim hadn’t so much as acknowledged it. Part of him wanted to believe Tim didn’t care, or had already forgiven Y/N and in turn forgiven him.

But, of course, Dick hadn’t told him. The asshole wanted this to drag out as painfully long as he possibly could. Make him carry that burden himself just because he thought it was right, as Tim’s brother, even when he wanted no part of those niceties.

“You wanna tell him?” The blue leotard wearing ass said. “Or should I?”

“Don’t fucking bring me into this shitshow-“

“Brother, you walked right into it yourself.”

“I will kill you,” Jason growled. “One of these days.”

“Tell me what?”

Tim’s voice, the softest it had been since the start of that night.

He shouldn’t.

His little brother, one whose relationship had proven far too difficult to build, if there was ever a chance at a good relationship at all. His brother. An established brotherhood he once despised so much, took too many years just for it to be something tolerable. His little brother.

He never had a little brother like Tim. Perhaps even now, he wouldn’t. Not once he knows.

“Tim, I-“

“Jason, tell me what’s going on.”

Dick no longer even had that smirk on him. He just looked sad for the both of them, as he should be. As anyone should be.

“Just tell him.”

So much did his fist want to just fly and land straight at Grayson’s perfectly chiseled cheekbones, break his face so much he wouldn’t live to stand a day.

But Jason had grown too silent, too guilty.

He couldn’t even take off his helmet and look at either of them in the eye.

Tim stepped right in front of him and on his face kind of worry that often lingered prior to it being the worst rage to ever engulf into.

Was there a way out of this? To counter the impact? Make it so it didn’t hurt so much?

If Grayson had just told him, it wouldn’t have to be this way.

“Jason-“

He looked up, and through the slits of his visor, he knew Tim wanted to look at him in the eye, to find something out of this truth.

“I…”

His throat, it hurt to even breath. And when this happened, he usually takes the helmet off. This time, however, he couldn’t do that. Not when he had so much to say despite him not wanting to.

“I slept with her…”

It was a shame Dick didn’t look too much like an ass right then. If he did, he’d have a reason for himself to just jump at him with a knife. But all he could even see, all he could bring himself to watch, was his feet.

Nothing else. Not when Tim was looking at him that way.

“What?”

“I slept with her-“

Tim.

Was it even Tim anymore? The boy in front of him? Who never looked at him with so much betrayal?

“When?”

“A few months ago…” he said. “Lasted about a month.”

Then, it wouldn’t even have mattered if it were him who broke the news, the asshole that Dick was, or the Gotham Times.

Tim.

No longer his little brother. Never will be again.

Right for the neck. That’s where Tim pounced a second less than he was smart enough to move away.

Dick:

That asshole deserved it.

But if anyone deserved it more than Jason did, it was Dick.

Was it to divert Tim’s attention from himself? Give him a breather and a while for Tim’s anger to mellow down taking it out on Jason so he doesn’t take it out on him so much? Possibly.

But the moment Tim’s hands squeezed the living daylights out of Jason’s neck, he knew he shouldn’t have brought it up. It was wrong. This was all wrong.

He started for Tim’s arms, grabbing them both just to at least give Jason enough time to breath, but this newfound strength certainly wasn’t one he’d expected. When he did manage to pull them off, Tim swung his fist right at Dick’s face.

Then, he went back for Jason, who then took that short time to grab both his fists and stop them for hurling him over the roof.

This was his fault. This was his doing.

And all the more did he want this to end when Jason held Tim strong enough to make him scream, and with that, he threw another punch right for his helmet, shattering the visor beneath his bruised knuckles. Jason tried to kick him away with his knee, but Tim was pushing him.

Jason, who should have been a lot stronger, was not doing much to fight Tim. And instead, he tried talking him out of it.

“Tim!” he coughed. Tim still holding both fists went on to push him. “Tim, stop!”

Head slam against his helmet, and it broke, enough for a part of it to be chipped off and expose his forehead.

Jason finally hurled Tim over to the ground just so he could wipe the blood stain off from seeping down his eyes, but that wasn’t much of a good idea. Not when Tim took that as a chance to jump for his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders, and with the forces of their own bodies flying across the wind, the railing wasn’t enough to stop their fall.

Tim and Jason fell over the building, down fifty stories with one’s hands wrapped around the others throat, and Tim went on to strangle him even as they fell.

Dick, without even thinking much, dove into that same abyss. Did he have a plan? No. Was this going to work anyway? Probably not. But he had to try.

At least, it was all he had to do. When Dick leapt, head soaring straight down for a car so miniscule that wouldn’t be so small the more he wastes time, his brothers thrashing bodies that broke the speed of their fall worked to his sorry advantage and Dick managed to catch up.

He grabbed Tim off, thankfully with the fall lessening his grip but not at all did it change the murderous look on his face. This wasn’t his brother. This can't be him. This was someone who had all his frustrations bottled up in the form of coffee addiction, insomnia, and workaholic tendencies, someone who hadn’t vented out his hurt and anger at him, who he apparently had been hating for a while.

When he had him in his grasps, Dick grappled up to the next building. “Jason, hold on!”

It was, in actuality, the worst idea he’s ever come up with. Other than the fact that Tim weighed a good 170 pounds, Jason was no lighter. Not even in the slightest. And carrying both of them? He might as well be hauling up a whole tank.

That one single grappling hook showed them no appreciation despite it holding on the best it could. And it was to no help that the hook landed on a building too far.

They were just yards up the ground when the rope tightened, and the impact on Dick’s arm he was sure had the bone dislocated. A scream was all he could muster at the shooting pains that went all the way up his neck, but still, he held on, and even when it lasted no more than a few seconds, it was all too agonizing not to feel like it lasted hours.

All it took was to at least break the fall, but that was all he could handle. Dick let go of the grapple gun and they were falling across the whole block, across the street over to an abandoned lot with junkyard cars and probably some broken glass scattered across the ground.

Tim landed on top of one of the cars, breaking the windshield under his weight. Jason wasn’t so lucky, rolling across the cold cement with it hitting his helmet, enough to expose his face.

And Dick, with it not helping his arm at all, landed right against the fenced border and fell to the ground. Some wire sticking out might have impaled his skin.

He was breathing. Was he still breathing? There was throbbing. Redness. Blood that went to his eyes, most probably. He could hear his heart and basically the rest of his senses going haywire.

When he looked up, already Tim could stand, right on top of the cars.

Now lacking his Bo staff, Tim smashed the broken metal beneath his feet and pulled out a slab hard enough to break bones.

Tim:

If Dick were smart, he should have let him die.

This was always how he was, how this was all going to boil down to. His so many ways of dealing with loss, heartbreak, and stress, it was never going to hold him back enough if he hadn’t an outlet. And this, tonight, this was all part of the inevitable. He did what he promised Y/N. He kept off the coffee and had eight hours of sleep every day. But did it mean it warded off his thoughts on her? On his brothers? On their betrayal and how much he’d been holding that all off for months? Not even close. In fact, they grew worse.

Who does he start with?

Dick was all the way over at the fence. Wounded. Dislocated arm. He pulled himself up and went for a wall he could smash his shoulder against just to pull back the bone.

And Jason.

Shit.

Should have went for him first.

Two glocks in his hands. This man wasn’t afraid in the slightest.

“Jason, don’t!” Dick cried. Too late. He already shot one of the cars.

Tim spun about just to dodge at least the shattered glass. He was aiming for his legs, at all the parts of his body that wouldn’t be so lethal. How kind of him.

Which meant, that if it were the vital parts of him exposed, Jason wouldn’t shoot.

So he didn’t even try to hide himself, his chest especially, when he hurled himself over the many car hoods and roofs. Jason kept going, and this time he went to shooting the glass on purpose. Probably to hit him with the shards.

Tim reached the wall and pushed his feet so he’d roll on the ground. Cape up, he looked through the many places to hide, but he didn’t want to hide. What he wanted was to grab one of them, any of them, by the shoulders, pin them to the ground, and have his fist have at it with their stupid faces.

He ran up to Jason, cape protecting his legs and arms, and just as he did Dick had crept up behind him, grabbing Jason by a headlock. Elbow to Dick’s chest, he took that as a chance to grab his guns and throw them over to the side. So close did he miss one of the bullets, if grazing his shoulder was ever a miss. But he ignored that hiss and landed a hit on Jason’s stomach.

But not even that could last long, with Jason practically subdued. Dick set Jason aside to block Tim’s fist from landing anywhere near either of them. He kept hitting, swinging, it was all a blur after the third time he felt his shoulders hurt. And Grayson’s was no better. So he aimed for it.

What was he doing?

Foot landing on Dick’s pelvis. It was enough for his body to skid across the ground. He looked up at his brother, teeth gritting so much that it hurt, Tim didn’t move fast enough before he could move away from Dick’s fist, which landed a good one right to his teeth.

Jason:

This was the most ridiculous fight he’s ever been on. No different from a fucking pellet gun war over at the gardens that one time they were drunk and stupid. This was a game, one he really didn’t want to play. He should have known, and what he thought that time was that somehow, she was worth going through all this chaos for. That moment of bliss, that month of beauty and serenity and peace, was it worth this? With his own brothers?

It wouldn’t have been if it was just a month of beauty and serenity and peace. But it wasn’t just about that anymore, was it?

So this had to be worth it. In every way. With Dick and Tim over a few yards away, Dick holding his shoulder and trying so hard to avoid being hit there and Tim so unruly and angry and being so taken over with his rage, not at all was he anything like this before tonight.

He had the choice. To grab the gun that had skidded over to his side, shoot them both in the shoulder to put everything to a stop, or join in on their rumble to drag this out as long as inhumanely possible. Three different men who knew exactly what the others’ moves will be, this wasn’t going to last very long if it were to be a good way.

But, if this were to be dealt with bullets, he can say goodbye to either of them of ever being his brother again, to never be a part of this family so hard to love but love nevertheless.

He stopped his hand from reaching for the gun, and with that, he started for the two.

Jason grabbed Tim’s ankle just before it would have landed on Dick’s chin, threw him to the side so he’d land on the floor.

Dick’s fist, which would have hit Tim, instead hit Jason right at the nape of his neck. He almost toppled over to the ground, and with that flash of rage, he struck back at Dick right at his bad shoulder. Might have been too far. But he didn’t care.

Tim hit his back, right up against his sharp knee. He cried out at the unnerving bellows that went straight to his head, picked himself up just before he hit the ground.

Another hit for his head, but Dick had stopped it with his own hand, twisted Tim’s ankle so he’d once again lose his balance and fall.

Three different men.

Three different fights.

Three men who knew each other far too well to be beaten so easily.

They jostled and rolled about, around the junkyard over so many of the cars and the broken glass and even the fence that had long blown over. This wasn’t at all supposed to be what they’d spend the night on, but with the slabs of metal being thrown, the cars almost hurled up with their peak human strength, their limbs flailing, some barely missing a nerve on their head and some wrecking a whole tooth out of their mouth, it was not, to even some capacity, ever going to end as well as any of them hoped.

And with them at the middle of the barren empty grounds, Jason dodging Dick’s fist only to meet Tim’s knee, Dick being absolutely smothered by Tim’s head smashing against his, and Tim being pinned to the ground by either of his brothers larger than him that he hated so much.

It all would have ended in death, after the kind of blur that clouded so much of their moral thought and any kind of sense at all to remind them of what they were doing, if not for something far too strong for them to easily swerve from.

Or, better yet, three things too strong for them to swerve from.

At a whiff so quick for any of them to have possibly even sensed, a flash of purple was the first to wave off that blur from their eyes. And it went for Tim.

Stephanie was first to subdue him, holding Tim down with her knee landing right at the small of his back. He cried out both at the shock he hadn’t expected and the pulsing pain that probably went all the way up his spine, but he was done. Steph had grabbed Tim’s head and pinned him down right against the floor.

The next one was Dick, and before any of them could even turn, something so brightly blinding, a figure of yellow, fell from one of the cars’ hood and grabbed Dick by the neck. Duke was smaller, but not at all was that some disadvantage. His huge armored arms, locking Dick enough for him to just flail his hands about, it was enough to make him stop.

And, just as he expected, the next thing he saw after that flash of a second he was spared, was a blur of black so silently creeping up on him, Jason couldn’t move even when he knew it was coming. No one could have seen it. Not even him. By the next second, he was bent over one of the cars, hands to his back, and Cassandra had a taser stuck to his hip.

“NO, NO, NO, CASS DON’T-“

Barely enough to fry him unconscious, but enough to fucking electrocute his skin off so his muscles could barely move.

Dick:

This should all have ended sooner than it even happened.

And the shame crept in, not even when he stopped struggling against Duke’s hold on him, but when Barbara, the last to come into the scene, flew in from the window right across.

She looked like she wanted to murder all three of them by a rope around their necks. One single rope. Having three just wouldn’t be worth it.

She took off her cowl and let her red hair fall to her back, so they’d easily see just how disgusted she looked at them all, at the look on her eyes, at the look on all their eyes.

“Duke, let me go-“

“I’m sorry, Dick.”

“Please.”

“If we could, Nightwing,” Babs swallowed. “I’ll have you tied to that streetlamp for the rest of the night.”

Jason tried to reach for something in the car just to kick Cass away, but she tased him again. Some smoke flew up from his flesh.

“Cass, that’s enough,” Babs said.

Cass glared at them all, then settled to just holding Jason down with his arms.

“Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on with you three?”

“Maybe if you get your foot out of my head, Steph, I’d actually get my brain back and answer her question,” Tim said.

“You lost your brain when you fell down that building.”

“You saw that?”

Steph snorted. “You’re lucky I didn’t jump in until I had all of us on call.”

“Lucky?!”

Steph twisted Tim’s arm and his cries could be heard over to the next block.

Jason tried, again, to break free from Cass’s hold, but her fist wasn’t one to welcome when it landed much like a bat would’ve right up against Jason’s head.

And Tim, who almost pried Steph’s knee from against his back, was just pinned down again not even a second after breaking free.

They were too tired to go up against any of them.

So Dick, knowing there was no other, prettier way out of this, let go of his hands from gripping too hard on Duke’s arm. He didn’t let go, but it had loosened, enough for him to properly talk. Babs went over to him. That dagger-infested glower stuck through, but at least there was some appreciation for his lack of resistance.

“It was a misunderstanding-“

“Was it?!”

Babs clenched her jaw.

“This is about her, isn’t it-“

Tim’s voice echoed. “No!”

Tim:

He growled and shoved Steph’s hand away, but they kept on his arms, pushing them down against his spine. She was strong enough to subdue him, stronger now that he was exhausted and his muscles were all strained, but that didn’t mean he was, in any way, going to back down from this fight. This wasn’t over.

He could crane his head up enough to look at Babs.

“This is about these two traitors who lied to my face for months!”

Steph was having too much trouble keeping him down. “Tim!”

“Are you really going to take their side?!”

“No one is taking anyone’s side here.”

Babs eyed Cass at least to make her loosen her grip on Jason’s twisted arms. Cass rolled her eyes, sighed, and still without a word, she grabbed Jason by the back of his collar to make him stand. But it wasn’t without her taser stuck up to his side.

“Cass, I’m not gonna fucking fight you-“

“Just shut up, Jay,” Dick said, and with that, Duke tightened his arm.

“They wanna know,” Tim panted. “Tell them all why we’re in this mess.”

His voice, all broken and rageful and so unlike what anyone would have thought. It turned the heads of everyone around. Steph loosened her hand around Tim’s neck much out of her own disbelief.

“Stabbing me in the back the way you did…”

“Tim, you don’t have to-“ Babs went on, but Tim’s screams were too much.

“Tell them! Say why you’re all a bunch of ass-“

“You’re the one who wanted this to be some shitshow!” Jason’s teeth shouldn’t last long with how much he was gritting them when he hissed and snarled at Cass, who poked the taser just beneath his hip.

“Cass, enough with the taser.”

“Yeah, Cass,” Jason said. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

“Some douchey police officer over at Chinatown,” Duke said to him while still keeping his hands on Dick.

Something so foreign, so unruly and aggressive, it was taking too much control over him. Tim’s eyes were burning, and there weren’t even any tears. His blood pulsed through every vein, strong enough for it to hurt, and loud enough for him to hear it through his bloodied ears.

Tim pushed Steph away and for a moment, he was free. He wasn’t even thinking anymore. He just wanted his hands squeezing the voice out of Jason’s neck.

Babs grabbed him by the cape just as Steph caught up, and again he was on the floor. Still, he screamed, thrashed about because everything within him just yelled for him to finally let it out. He was done being the nice guy, done being the brother they both pushed around, took advantage of, lied to, and picked on because they knew he’d never fight back.

“Tim…” Babs helped Steph holding him down. She looked up at Dick. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing we can't sort out!”

“Jesus, Dick,” Jason snorted. “You haven’t said one smart thing all day.”

“Like you're any better, you asswipe.”

“Enough!”

Babs stood right between them, otherwise they’d have lunged for each other even if they had a missile launcher aimed for their heads.

“Let me go. Duke,” Dick said. “I’m not gonna fight any of you-“

“Yeah, three seconds ago you were close to running Jason’s head through a windshield.”

“Just let me go and we’ll all calmly-“

“Calmly?” Duke laughed. “I saw you fall down that building from where I stood. None of you know what calm is.”

Duke’s voice was stern and not at all did he sound like he’d trust him enough for that, no different than Steph’s or even just the look in Cass’s eyes. Because, if anything, other than the utter disgust, disdain, and disappointment, everything before them was something not to easily believe.

Not long after, before anything even happened, before Tim heard that first trace of a large black cape and the heavy soles that would have broken the cement floor underneath if he hadn’t purposely landed so swiftly, with the shadow that wasn’t in fact a shadow, but a suit so terrifying, dark, and so close to invisible, it was the night in a physicality no two people could similarly describe.

Tim knew he’d get here first, before anyone else even turned their heads. Because he stopped with his cries and faced his untimely doom. Face to the ground, quiet and unmoving. Everyone else followed but that was after he’d already appeared.

Not even anyone from the likes of the worst villains had seen the look on Bruce’s face as close to the one he had right then.

Jason:

If he were alone, he’d just have snorted. The look on Grayson and Drake’s face. Couldn’t be drawn.

He’s seen that same frown on Bruce every time he shoots a damn gun, which was every night. He could paint it by memory and he wouldn’t miss a detail. The squinted white of his eyeholes, his lips forlorn and flat. His hands, clenched enough for it to hurt, hidden beneath his cape. Oh, Dad. Did I do that?

These guys just needed some getting used to.

And he shouldn’t be amused at the fact that at least, for once, he wasn’t the only one in trouble this time. Tim looked ashamed. Dick looked like he’d seen a ghost. Dick should have known this, at least. He’s steered up a few times of trouble himself. Nothing like what he’s done, that’s for sure. But he shouldn’t be so stricken. Still, he was, which made it all the more inappropriate if he were to smirk right then.

Damian was right beside him. He wasn’t entertained, or intrigued, what he usually was watching his father tell off his brothers. In fact, he looked bothered. Like they’d just taken so much of his time away from what he’d rather be doing, which apparently was more interesting than this.

Ah. Of course. An out-of-town mission. Just Batman and Robin. They left Babs in charge. Probably why she looked just as horrified as Dick, hands to her side and keeping the slight shake of her palms hidden. It seems she prepared for anything to happen on patrol that night, anything Bruce prepared her for being the boss. What they hadn’t prepared for, apparently, was them.

“Batman, I-“ Babs swallowed. “We have this under control. You can go back to-“

“Let them go.”

Chills down everyone’s wobbly spines at his growling voice proved more terrifying under the filter near his neck. Everyone except Jason, of course. But he can't be so relaxed. Cass was getting suspicious. He just felt her hands tighten even more around his wrists.

But perhaps, he should be afraid. He’s gotten into mounds of trouble, but it was never anything like this.

He snorted again. They hadn’t hurt anybody. It was just them three and their lack of brain. They’ll be fine.

He hoped.

“Bruce, they’re trying to kill each other-“

“They can try.”

Babs, right then, might be the one to kill them right after. Maybe with her bare hands. Maybe with a truck. With a deathly, silent scowl at all of them, she nodded.

Duke was first to let go of Dick, and with that a pat on the back. Dick rubbed the back of his neck, stayed put and didn’t even step away. He was relaxed. Ashamed, but relaxed. He just stretched out his limbs and already everyone was satisfied.

Next, it was Jason. With a reluctant Cass finally letting him go, and the taser, Jason tumbled over to the nearest car hood just to keep himself up. That fucking taser robbed him of his knees. How many volts was that thing?

Finally, Steph swung her legs over from holding down Tim’s body and helped him up. She dusted off his back, apologized under her breath. He probably had a lot to say if it weren’t for the seven other pairs of eyes on him, watching him from letting out so much as a twitch.

Tim didn’t shove her away so he could go back to poking Jason’s eyeballs out. He just stood there and stared at him like Jason and Dick were lucky everyone else was around. Which, he probably was. He wasn’t going to deny that.

The last people to be so afraid of Bruce were the three of them, the perpetrators, the reason for this little reunion. So instead of letting out something so cocky and unapologetic, something so at the borders of causing Bruce to have an aneurysm, not one mouth resisted from being kept shut. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t often expected from such an unusual family.

And Bruce looked at the three of them not with anger, or dismay, or even annoyance.

He looked disappointed.

Which, arguably, makes it a whole lot worse. Hell, even for him. He’s been yelled at since the day he came back and all of a sudden a little fight with his brothers is what brings him to shame.

Bruce was unmoving, so his voice startled and shook.

“All this…” he said. “For her…”

No one spoke. Not even a cricket. Even with the horns and sirens from afar, the bustle they couldn’t care less the only noise there was, it was deafening.

“Don’t you think you’ve disappointed her enough?”

Jason ignored the shattered edges of his helmet that poked on his cheek, ignored the blood it drew or the strain on his arms. Everyone did, perhaps.

“Go back to patrol.”

Batman left, as quickly as he’d come. Robin followed right behind him.

Batgirl turned around, nodded at her team, which was all there was out of her, out of anybody. They could see her fists clench, her eyes down and avoiding the others. The Signal flew out of the scene, Spoiler grappled up to the next rooftop, and Orphan disappeared out of thin air, without a word or even a grunt.

Nightwing, Red Robin, and Red Hood left that junkyard lot, and as the brothers they were, and dreadfully still are, they kept out of each other’s ways for the rest of that quiet night.

-----

What was so different about that night, and the many more nights that followed, was how they no longer had each other to turn to, even more now that it seemed they needed their brothers the most. Jason was, in the worst sense, used to the kind of isolation he was forced into after the matter. Dick had to learn to be alone, but it always had been better to have another’s shoulder to lean on and talk to. Tim, not so much. Not when he almost always turned to Y/N. And if not her, Dick. His older brother. One he once looked up to like a being unreachable, now a traitor he’d scoff at if he dared to show up.

So what they did, and what they were forced to do for several nights, was to deal with the cosmos and the whirlwind of thoughts all by their sorry selves. Dick usually could be found in training, spinning about in the uneven bars set up for him at the manor, have the sweat and the strain in his muscles force out whatever it was that bothered him into some physical outlet, how it often had been for many years as he appreciated himself for the care it brought. For the others, however, it wasn’t so much the same. Tim would spend all hours in the office and wouldn’t so much as nap even when his whole body tortured him to at least stop his back from being crouched so much. And Jason, well, had already drowned himself in booze, even more now that the reasons had faded clearer.

Alone in his apartment, over at the nook by the window where he usually spent the day with a book, now his mess of a hair would be plastered against the cold glass and the many bottles that surround him would block the surfaces of the cushion. It never actually got out of hand. He only ever drank to get rid of that noise blaring into his ear the way it was now, the way it was for all three of them.

And Tim couldn’t turn to that same comfort, or whatever it was that caffeine, stinging eyelids, and an unhealthy staring into a computer screen with an all nighter at the office would bring him. That night after the fight, he couldn’t sleep, even when he tried to. Which led to no one’s knowing, a cup of coffee when the day had risen and he was forced to go on with that said day like nothing happened. That cup would turn to two. Three. Eventually it dawned on him that he’d slept what he should have in a single day in a span of three.

Dick’s training, as it turned out, wasn’t so healthy at all. The strain in his wrists began a little over two hours ago. He’d been at the grounds for quadruple that time. For that day alone. Would it kill him if he didn’t stop? Probably not. Would it almost kill him? Probably. But he went on. Kept his hands busy. Forced himself to feel that exhaustion that should be taking his mind out of everything and not amplify it.

But this was only the beginning of what eventually would be that highway to descent, to some slope with no ladder to climb back up to, no guide for them to reverse and no light at the end that would eventually bring some alternative to the truth. They only had the truth to hold on.

Their brotherhood. One so strained. So complicated. One that took far too much time to build and rebuild. They couldn’t, not even if they wanted to, be apart from this family, deny that they were a part of it. They couldn’t escape each other’s presence no matter how many times they’d change their numbers or block out their trackers or find another city to live in. They couldn’t lose something that had grown too strong for them to fight against. That night, they tried. Or rather, the forces tried. The forces run by their bitter rivalry or the want for the same woman.

It was the fifth night after that fight, when Dick let go of the bars, finally giving his hands that rest too many hours overdue. He wiped his sweat, drank from his bottle, and pulled out his phone. That night, he thought it was enough, that this silence and bitterness and sheer negligence over their bond would eventually break for permanence. He knew that this coping was only just the beginning, and that it will, for everything he was certain about, would it become so much more, something so dark, that it would pull the whole family apart. He didn’t want that. For any of them. So that night, he sent a text to Tim and Jason.

Tim’s first account wasn’t on his brothers, though it had crossed his mind many more times than he would have hoped. His first thought, if anything, was how Y/N would have thought if he let himself fall. It’d be in his rule this time, that he wouldn’t let the caffeine get to him or reach to such extremes he’d never otherwise control. But Y/N wasn’t going to believe that, as nobody should. Hell, he probably shouldn’t place that much faith onto himself at all. Even if he does so much as lose an hour of sleep, one for every night until there wasn’t any hours left, if he allows himself one more cup when he had one just half an hour before, he knew it’d be just the beginning.

So, when he got that text from Dick, he realized it wasn’t worth much the risk.

He hated them both like he’s hated no one else, wanted them to realize just how much of a wreck their doings have imprinted on him and Y/N, how the consequences that followed weren’t nearly what they deserved at all. But if he doesn’t fight that hate, if he doesn’t find peace, it’ll be that darkness for him, that same life he hadn’t learned to control, one where he once lost himself to. and in turn, made him lose Y/N. And he’ll lose her again if he won't listen to that conscience. He texted Dick back and told him to meet him at Pauli’s.

Jason, on the other hand, acted as was expected of him. When he saw that text the first thing his lack of conscience told him was to get another phone and forget it all happened, disappear for another few months, show up when it was convenient, and hope that this all blows over before his escapism backfires.

But he never did get to bring himself to throw out his phone and get a new one, much less delete the text before he’s even seen it. A few days after, he let that daft little voice in him to open the text, allow himself a few seconds just to witness its premise. But he’d read through everything in that split second he allowed himself to. Dick didn’t really have much to say. And what else was to come next other than the few days of tussling and fighting and the many more bottles of booze that were not at all helping with those same voices that just wouldn’t shut up.

Was this all worth it? Was anything worth this at all?

Because those few years it took just to have any sort of a conversation with Dick, much more with Tim, certainly wasn’t a few years of a bond rebuilt that he wanted to go through again.

He loved them. In his own, twisted little way. He loved his brothers and actually would go out his way to save them from whatever horrors he’d been forced to face. That love didn’t have to be from occasionally hanging out in the holidays or spent an hour or two in a bar.

At least, in his conscience, if he were to die one day like he’d realize would happen again, knowing life wasn’t exactly his alone to spend and control, he’d know he did whatever was best for the people he loved.

So, despite Dick and Tim not at all expecting so much as a text back, they still had it in them to wait a few hours. In that dimly lit corner of Pauli’s, the aroma of freshly backed pancakes distracting them from their otherwise bland pickup from the rest of their senses. They waited, not hoping for the best.

Jason went into the diner and saw them, ordered a cup, then took a seat across Tim, with Dick in between.

That silence, the same for everyday for the past five, it was haunting and eerie, disturbing, uncomforting, one they knew they’d all have to settle if they wanted to move on and actually bring some light into whatever it was they’ve caused.

Jason didn’t take off his hoodie. Tim warmed his hands with his cup of hot chocolate. And Dick, knowing he’d have to start, cleared his throat and looked up.

Dick:

Seeing Tim walk through that door was a surprise enough, much more Jason coming along and not even was he three hours late. Fuck. Fuck. What does he even say? Where does he ever start? Should he even start?

Giving in to his impulses certainly was bad an idea. This was, in every way, what he should have expected when he picked up his phone and thought to call his brothers hoping it was the right thing to do. And, perhaps, it was the right thing.

But was he the right person to start it? Lead this conversation to the direction he wanted so they’d get to a better place? The one that pushed his impulses in the first place?

They were all too awfully silent. Tim’s had his second round of hot chocolate. He doesn’t even like hot chocolate that much. And Jason looks like he’s hiding himself from the cops with his hood down and neck craned to the table’s surface. He’s never been in anything more awkward and uncomfortable in his years. This was just humiliating.

But, he was sure, humiliation should be the first thing they’d have to go through. Setting their prides aside, talk with the other’s stories in mind and hope that by the end of this, it’ll at least be a bit better.

So he started, in the most bland, uneventful way, he tells them both.

“Thanks for coming,” Dick said.

Tim momentarily bit onto his lip, and Jason stayed motionless without so much as a nod. At least Tim glanced over at him, even when it was just a second.

“How are you, Tim?”

Tim’s finger traced over the brim of his cup. He’s finished it. Didn’t seem like he wanted to order another one.

“Alright. I guess.”

“Good. Jason?”

God, this was awful. He doesn’t even ask how their broken bones are healing after a life-threatening encounter in patrol. Hopefully this greyness wasn’t too weird, not when it should be the start of something even more difficult to overcome.

Jason’s order of coffee came into the table and it made Tim shift in his seat, leaning to the back to stay further away from its aroma. Jason took a sip. “Fine.”

As quiet as they possibly could. Dick wished he had something to order, even when it was just a piece of pie they’d displayed over at the counter. But he didn’t want to get up or even call a waitress.

He was, in the most obvious sense, ashamed. Ashamed that he wasn’t either of them, which he wished nothing more to be. He wished he was them so he wouldn’t have to be the man who’d hurt Y/N the most, when he was supposed to be who she’d turn for comfort, because they weren’t the man who’d been in love with her for so long, never thinking he’d have a chance. And when he did finally have her, even for a just a moment, when he finally got to kiss her that one time he’d been waiting for so many years, it all broke down and nearly diminished what he took years to build. Their friendship. Something so great yet so fragile, when their love never could be so easily set aside to make way for a friendly bond.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, and his voice had gone softer. “I’m sorry I started a fight. And for being so angry. That was uncalled for.”

He did want all this to be right with them. Both of them. Two of his brothers he’s learned to love. And with that love comes many sacrifices.

“You don’t have to be sorry for being angry.”

“Would you like more hot cocoa?” The waitress came in with a pitcher. Tim declined, and she left.

He stared at the empty cup and rolled his lips.

“Yeah, I… I kinda do.”

Further into the day, the less people there were in the diner. And with that came more silence. There were half the people in there than when they’d first arrived. Soon enough, they’ll be the only ones left.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Then, without even a word, Dick and Tim turned over to Jason.

They didn’t expect him to apologize, or even say anything for that matter, possibly for the rest of the night.

But Jason shrugged, looked up at both of them in the eye, and he nodded. It was enough for them both to know what he meant.

Jason:

Get this over with. As quick as they possibly could. But he should know by now that this was going to take time. With how difficult it was. This wasn’t going to end any better than when they’d started if they rush through.

Jason took a sip out of his coffee and leaned his arms over on the table. Still, he didn’t take off his hoodie, as if he was going to take off not long from then.

“I don’t exactly know where to start,” Dick said. “But I think we should put this out there now.”

Neither of them looked him in the eye. He and Tim both stared at their cups as if it were any interesting.

“I’m sorry if I’m doing this wrong. I’m just saying what I think is best.”

“It’s okay,” Tim said. “Just go on.”

This was harder than when they had to help out the League face Brainiac. And that certainly was something.

“I love Y/N.”

Okay. Wasn’t what he thought Dick would say. But okay.

“Tim loves her, too.”

Shit. Alright. So that’s what this motherfucker thinks he’s doing.

“And I for sure as hell know, that you love her as well, Jason-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason’s voice was deep, controlled, and as monotonous as he forced it to be. Without a flick of a lie or a speck of truth, as they both would have easily picked up if they listened to him hard enough. That is, if it worked. Which it probably hadn’t.

“We don’t know who she wants…” Dick said. “And frankly, I don’t think she does, too. At least for now.”

“It could be any of us.” Tim didn’t take his sight away from the blankness of the white table’s surface.

He can't take this. No. He never should have opened that text. This was a bad idea.

Y/N will choose one of them. Not him. Not when he was the one who fell in love with her far too late, realized just how perfectly imperfect and how she managed to be this little bundle of happiness for him that he never could find in another. Someone whose presence he yearned for on the days when he thought nothing could be okay. He realized all that when too late, when his brothers already cemented their places and have already gone out of their way to win her love. And, on top of all that, he was the one he didn’t have a close friendship as a ground for something to lean onto. They weren’t close. Not like she was with Tim. Not even with Dick.

“This is ridiculous,” Jason stood up from his seat with his cup half finished. “I’m leaving.”

“Jason-“

“Dick, I want no part of this-“

“You can deny it all you want, but what if she chooses you?”

“She won't choose me. That’s the point-“

“Everyone knows that’s just as much of a possibility than everything else. It didn’t even take much time, and already you’ve wooed her. You think we didn’t notice that?”

Jason stopped and faced the counter, away from his brothers.

“Just sit down.”

“Dick-“

“I know this hurts but what if she actually does choose you-“

“I don’t love her.”

“You do. And she might love you back.”

No. Don’t bring his hopes up like this. This fucking-

“And if she does, are you really going to turn her down?”

Jason closed his eyes. He had nothing to say.

“No matter what Tim and I do, if it’s you she wants, then it’s you who’ll make her happy. Do you honestly think I believe you won't at least take that chance?”

Nothing. No voices whispering into his conscience to fuck everything and leave. Nothing that told him what to do, much less what to say.

He just knew that whatever he was, it wasn’t nearly as strong as that one pull that forced him back on his seat.

This shitshow already hurts as it is. What’s a little more?

Tim:

There’s a chance for all of them.

That’s what has always been so hard for him to understand. Never would he have thought it to be true, but it was.

They were both good men, good people, and if he were honest, he’d admit to Y/N being lucky if she were ever to choose one of his brothers in the end. He never, ever wanted to admit that. Not even now.

But for so long, he’s ignored the fact that those choices might be for her happiness, for what she deserves, and that might not always be about Tim. That whatever it was he wouldn’t admit to himself didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Y/N smiles like no other with Dick and no one else understood her like Jason. Even if Tim were her best friend, even if they had together from the very beginning, even if he probably loved her the most. It won't be about that.

So he has to accept all this.

And if it meant her happiness, then that hurt will be a lot easier to deal with.

“He’s right,” he said, and his two older brothers looked up at him.

“I’ve always thought you two… Well, I wish I was in your place. Not always. But, right now I do.”

They were confused to say the least. They didn’t look like they understood. Tim was the one who got to be with her, had years of calling her his love, had her love in return and have her actually show it the same way he did.

But that was just that. He had her. And now he didn’t. Because of him. Because he had her and was stupid enough to let her go, something neither of his brothers would have done if they were him.

And he wanted to laugh at the looks of both their faces. They didn’t have to say anything at all, but he understood. They envied each other in so many other ways, too complicated to map out. Because they’ve all done their own grievances, done so much that they regret.

Which is why this had to happen. Because no one knew what was going to happen next.

“I know it’s hard for all of us…” Dick said. Tim stared out at the window to see the start of the cold evening. “But we’re brothers. I don’t know about you both, but I don’t want this to tear us all apart.”

It already did, he wanted to say.

But it might not be true. It might not be too late. This brotherhood could still be salvaged. And in a way, it might be worth all that hurt.

“The last few weeks have been hard… for all of us… taken its toll on the rest of the family. And we’ve worked too hard on each other. I don’t…” Dick swallowed. “I don’t want to lose Y/N, but I don’t want to lose both of you either.”

It was easier for him to shut his eyes closed.

Neither do I, Tim thought.

“But… Y/N deserves to be happy… We’ve put her through too much.

“And if it means being with the one she loves, one of us, then so be it. We’re done making her decisions. We don’t decide between the three of us. If she wants to choose, then she gets to choose. And we won't have a say in any of it. She decides if it’s one or none of us at all. She deserves this.”

Jason finished his coffee. He no longer sat so stiff.

Tim sat back on his chair and stared out the window.

“And whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. As brothers. We’ll have each other. It’ll be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

That cold night of late November had the first snowdrop of the year. It was light, subtle, and one would have missed it if they weren’t looking out for too long. But they saw it, and never had something so gentle calm what used to be this rageful storm, not since Y/N.

They hadn’t spoken another word in that diner. But for many hours, they stayed.

They continued to wait for many months. They were patient.

October. November. December. January passed.

And on that day of the second week of February, a day Y/N once loved and hated at different times, they put an end to that waiting.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

A/N: I honestly can’t wait for the finale. AHHHH

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@idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

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raineeskiesabove · 4 years

Text

A Dove’s Song | Venti x Lumine Oneshot

“Paimon doesn’t understand why you care so much about that tone-dear bard! He’s quite bothersome if you ask Paimon,” she whined, closely following Lumine.

“He’s a good person, Paimon. You two may butt heads, but you’re both very important to me. As his friend, it’s my duty to be there for him,” Lumine responded.

She gently patted Paimon’s head to express her affection for the tiny familiar. “Well, his elemental trail leads... here,” she said, frowning to see that it was indeed Angel’s Share. She just hoped that he wasn’t wasted. Again.

Opening the door slowly, Lumine was immediately taken aback by the roar of the crowd inside, all gathered around a table. On top of it stood Venti, with a dazed look in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. Despite the rosy color of his cheeks indicating his intoxication, he was still singing and playing the lyre. Albeit, his slurs and odd movements on the instrument were beginning to create more of a comedy act than respectable entertainment.

“Another song I shall play, if a drink someone will pay!” he announced, taking a large swig from a glass offered by an audience member.

“Gods, he’s going to topple over...” Lumine pushed to the center of the crowd, her eyes now at level with Venti’s loafers.

“Ah! Lumi! You’re just in time for another solo!”

She sighed. “Venti, how many drinks have you had tonight?”

“It seems that I have lost count. But I am indeed trying to achieve a new personal record!” He beamed at her, clearly proud of himself about the idea.

Lumine pinched the bridge of her nose, growing annoyed with his silly antics. The last time he attempted to “break a record”, she found him the next day in some back alley in Monstadt. Upon waking him up, Lumine then found herself holding onto him as he emptied last night’s drinks onto the street. So much for being a regal archon.

“Venti, this isn’t safe! Let me take you home!”

“Yeah! Paimon thinks that the tone-deaf bard has had more than enough dandelion wine!”

But by then, Venti had turned his attention towards the next drink someone had paid for him, which he instantly gulped down. Streams of wine ran sloppily down his chin, staining his cape and shirt. The moment he finished the last of the glass, his body paused, seemingly frozen in motion. The crowd grew quiet, expecting the bard to perform another haphazardly done song. But instead, the pause followed with Venti collapsing onto the table, out cold from drinking too much.

“Venti!” Lumine cupped his cheek to get a better look at his face, indeed confirming that he was unconscious. Having no other choice, Lumine hoisted Venti onto her shoulder to half carry, half drag him away, to the utter shock and amusement of the crowd. She grew irritated upon realizing that no one had offered to help, let alone voice something akin to concern. But for them, she realized, this was the norm for this performer. Venti always performed for food and drinks, and overindulgence was more common than not. If anything, she was the odd one for caring enough to drag him away. She could hear Paimon nagging in her ear, saying something about how the tone-deaf bard should be left to sleep on the ground. But Lumine wouldn’t stand for such a thing.

Renting a small room from a local inn, Lumine laid Venti to rest on the room’s single bed. Upon putting him down, Lumine collapsed to the ground, panting from the strain of moving him across town. Beads of sweat ran down her face, which she wearily tried to brush away with her forearm. Meanwhile, Venti was beginning to stir, and Lumine could hear him groaning like a pond frog.

“Where...?”

“We’re at an inn that Lumine dragged you to, and paid for! You owe her!” Paimon shouted.

“Lumine...! How was my performance? They- they liked it, right?” His voice was hoarse and uneven, making it all the more clear that he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Yes, yes, you did wonderfully, Venti. Now try to get some rest-“

“But Lumi!” He grabbed her hand suddenly, making her jump.

“Yes?”

“But did you like it?” His words made Lumine hesitate. The first lie was one thing, but was it fair to lie a second time? She reasoned that her lie was too far gone to backpedal for this second answer.

“Yes, Venti, it was lovely,” she whispered.

“Good, good... I sang... like a dove, to proclaim my love,” he mumbled, his eyes growing heavy. Venti squeezed her hand tightly before drifting into a drunken sleep.

“Ehhhh?! Tone-deaf bard likes Lumine?!” Paimon exclaimed. “Hey! Venti, wake up! Are you messing with us!” Paimon poked and prodded him to no avail, as Venti was out cold. She sighed, turning to Lumine. “That bard really is a fool. There’s no way- huh? Lumine?” Upon looking at her, Paimon saw that Lumine’s face had turned a bright red, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“Wait! Do you actually like that silly bard?”

“N-no! It’s not like that! And, I mean, it’s probably not true, right? People say strange things when they’re not thinking,” she mumbled, now turning away from the bed.

“Hmm, but Paimon thinks you’re lying! Paimon sees how you look at him compared to everyone else. Oooh, Lumine’s in love~” she teased.

Lumine shot Paimon a scowl. She looked at Venti wistfully, shaking her head, “I do love him, but it doesn’t matter. He’s an archon. A protector of freedom. Love would tie him down. I would tie him down,” her voice cracked, her hand meeting her lips to cover her emerging sorrow.

“Don’t say that! Paimon doesn’t like the bard personally, but you deserve to be happy!”

“Thank you, Paimon. But please, don’t tell him. I’ll be the one to decide” she said.

Paimon sighed, “Okay, but Paimon hopes you know what you’re doing.”

“It’ll be fine,” was all Lumine said before leaving to sit by the moonlit windowsill. Alone.

By the time Venti finally came to, the sunlight shone harshly through the now opened window. He was forced to open his eyes gradually, his head spinning from the intense hangover he was now experiencing.

“Boo!” Paimon suddenly appeared in his field of vision, making him jump. “Lumine went to go get some food and supplies for our next trip, so she left Paimon to make sure the bard doesn’t do anything rash!” She crossed her arms proudly to emphasize the importance of her role.

“I see. Will she be back soon?” he muttered.

“Maybe?” Paimon didn’t sound all that confident.

Hours passed. As the sun reached its peak and began to fall, Lumine still indicated no sign of returning. By this point, both Venti and Paimon grew worried, and agreed that it was time to search for her.

“Finally! Something we agree on,” Paimon said, watching Venti scribble a quick note in case Lumine came back.

“I am her friend, and the wind is telling me there is something to amend.”

“Oh, well uh, I wouldn’t know,” Paimon answered unconvincingly.

“No matter, we should still work on finding her. At least she has her Vision set to anemo. That makes her easier to find.”

Eventually, he and Paimon found her at the shores of a nearby river, close to the outskirts of Monstadt.

“Look! There she-“

“Shh!!” Venti held a finger to Paimon’s lips, silencing her. A scowl formed on her face as she quieted down.

Using his Anemo powers, Venti focused on letting her voice travel on the wind, making it easier for her to be heard.

“...Oh Lumine, you’re such a fool. A human and an archon? One of freedom? It wouldn’t be fair. I just-“ she growled in frustration, periodically throwing stones into the rushing water.

Upon hearing this, Venti grew to realize that that occurrence last night wasn’t a dream. It was real, and she had heard the most unromantic way a bard could’ve possibly confessed their love. But he agreed, in that his affection for her did feel out of character. Were archons even allowed to have such feelings for a mere mortal? The division in their respective roles made him hesitate. Not because he thought lowly of her, but rather about their future. The thought of losing her made his stomach churn, but he tried to convince himself that it was the remnants of alcohol talking.

He approached her warily, not wanting to startle her. “Lumi? Lumi, are you alright? You didn’t return so I was getting worried.”

She turned around slowly, her shoulders shaking from trying to hold back her sobs. Venti’s heart ached from the sight of her, his saddened gaze making her cover her face in shame.

“Don’t look at me. Just- just leave, pretend you saw nothing,” she choked.

But he didn’t leave, and instead sighed before beginning to speak. “Lumine, what did I say last night?”

“You don’t... remember?”

“No, I’m sorry. But regretfully I have been listening in. I was worried of where you have been,” he explained, averting his eyes regretfully, “I said something. Something about love, yes?”

She nodded slowly, hugging herself in preparation for his rejection.

“Well, it’s true. I... I am in love with you, Lumine. I just wish I could’ve told you in a better way. Perhaps singing like a dove to express my love would’ve been much better to hear, huh?”

From that statement, Lumine suddenly stopped crying, staring at him with a look of shock. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, only more confused than before.

In the silence, Paimon added her two cents, “Oh, wow! That’s what the bard said last night too! If the rhyme was the same even when he was drunk, he must really care about Lumi!”

“Is that really true? You have feelings for me?” she asked in disbelief, reddened eyes wide with a shocked expression.

Venti nodded slowly, before taking a few steps closer to her. In response, Lumine stepped back, afraid to completely allow herself to be vulnerable in his presence.

“But why? I would take away a part of your freedom,” she argued regretfully.

He smiled, “Yes, that is true. But I’ve always envisioned Monstadt to be a city of romance and new experiences. I just never thought that there would come a day that I too would fall for someone. You’re in pain, Lumine, because you’ve bound your feelings in chains,” by the end of his statement, he found himself frowning again.

“Is it okay?”

“What is?”

“Is it okay... for me to love you?”

“Yes, it is. And it is okay for me to love you in return. This will admittedly not be easy, but I truly believe that the wind brought us together for a reason.”

This time, when he tried to approach her, she didn’t move away, instead letting him slowly step towards her shaken form. As the sun began to set over the horizon, Venti thought about how brilliantly the color reflected in her glassy eyes. It was both a stunning and heartbreaking sight, making his heart skip a beat. Soon, he grew close enough to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. In his embrace, Lumine found comfort in how warm he was. It felt like being enveloped in a warm summer’s day. And it was then, that she finally realized that he truly loved her with all his being. Taking deep breaths, she finally closed her eyes, allotting time for them to rest.

She felt him begin to walk, still holding her close. Lumine followed his lead, trusting him enough to keep her eyes shut. Venti chose a nearby tree to rest under, guiding her down to sit with him. Awkwardly, the way she had clung to him caused her to remain in a seated position on his lap, which he admittedly didn’t mind, but it was enough to make his cheeks heat up. Still, her eyes remained closed as she nuzzled her weary face into the crook of his neck. Save for the sound of their breathing, it was quiet. Paimon had presumably left to give them some much needed space. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

“Lumi, are you asleep?” he whispered.

“No, I am simply resting, dear bard,” she hummed. Her sweet voice sent a shiver down his spine, the affection in her voice making his heart skip a beat.

He wondered if she was teasing him at this point, keeping her gorgeous eyes hidden from his sight. That could be fixed. Placing a hand against her cheek, he slowly lifted her face, brushing his thumb against her smooth skin. This time it was Lumine’s turn to shiver, the roughness of his calloused fingertips feeling foreign to her. He smiled to himself, before leaning in to plant a soft kiss against her perfect lips. In his shyness, he only lasted for but a brief moment before pulling away. But he got what he wanted, as the kiss had finally tempted her into revealing her eyes once more. She offered a gentle smile in return, combing a strand of hair behind her ear. Playfully, she leaned her body closer against his, blessing him with a kiss of her own. The feeling sent sparks flying in his head, his hands moving away from her face to run through her choppy hair. He felt her hands move to rest against his chest, lightly gripping his shirt to maintain balance. The two only pulled apart when Lumine finally had to pause for air, gasping for breath. Venti planted a final kiss on her forehead before tilted her face towards his gaze. The prominent circles under her eyes made him frown.

Summoning his lyre, Venti strummed it thoughtfully, playing a gentle score. With it, accompanied his voice, now expressed in the form of a soft lullaby. As he sang, he felt her head lean against his chest, her breathing growing slower with each note. By the end of his song, Lumine was already fast asleep, still holding onto him tightly. Her serene expression made him smile softly, “Off to the land of nod I see. Goodnight my friend... my love.”

#venti x lumine #venti #genshin impact #genshin impact traveler #genshin impact venti #genshin #genshin venti #genshin lumine #lumine #lumine x venti #genshin impact lumine #traveler x venti #venti x mc #venti x reader #genshin oneshot

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starlessskies94 · 3 years

Text

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Notes: I wanted to apologise for a stupid mistake I made in the last chapter, I mentioned that Ada fixed Joel's injury with no medical knowledge; only to remember weeks later that she's a vet as part of her character skills and I completely overlooked it while writing the last chapter so I'm sorry for that. And sorry to my lovely Adaline; because it makes total sense that she would be able to tend to his wound rather easily so I hope that doesn't spoil that last flashback too much my bad hehe

Also I apologise that it's been a while since my last chapter, I'm not going to lie this one has been a bitch to write and I'm still not 100% happy with it so I just sincerely hope it doesn't disappoint.

Chapter Twelve

Ada didn't remember falling asleep. But she certainly felt it when she woke up. Her joints cracking and popping from the curled up position she was laid in all night. Everything ached from her shoulders, to her back and her toes.

The last of her dreams faded as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. A quick glance at the clock telling her that she had slept through the better part of a day and half and although she had slept; she didn't feel rested in the slightest. The memories came flooding back, bringing with it that weight that pushed against her chest so tightly until she could barely breathe. Everything that had happened the day before felt like a bad nightmare, where her fears and worries had all come true. Joel hated her. Had more or less disowned her and Ellie. And it was her fault. The sadness and the tears were gone leaving her numb. All she had left was anger.

Yes she had made the wrong call leaving Joel as she had but it was Tommy who had thrown her under the bus. Not giving her the time she had needed to explain. It had all happened so quickly it had made her head spin. It wasn't fair.

There was no logic or reason in leaving her home and storming through the town to find her brother in law. There was no reason to slug the poor man in the face with a swift right hook either but that still didn't stop Ada from doing it away when she saw him.

The world only came back into focus when Maria had restrained her; her vision finally clearing to see Tommy holding his bloody nose.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Ada?!" Maria cried in shocked anger. "What has gotten into you?!"

"Let me go, Maria!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on!" The blonde demanded, holding Ada's arms behind her back: her grip getting tighter the more she struggled. Tommy stumbled forward still holding his nose, spitting a mouthful of blood by his feet before looking up at his wife.

"Maria it's okay...let her go." He asked woefully. Maria just scoffed in disbelief at his request, as if it was the most crazy thing in the world. She attempted to argue but the younger Miller just waved a dismissive hand at her words; his other pinching the bridge of his nose in a bid to stop the bleeding, that was now staining it's way down the front of his shirt. The townspeople were beginning to gather, a rumble of murmurs breaking out amongst the crowd at the sight of their leader being injured by one of their own.

That still didn't stop Ada from taking another swing at Tommy. Only this one didn't make contact as Maria stopped her, twisting her arm and pinning it to her back again.

"That is enough!" She roared, staring down both her husband and her sister in law. "Now you two had better tell what in the hell is going on!"

Tommy winced against the pain shooting through his nose and jaw; turning to look at the crowd staring with wide eyes. His own falling to the floor, not quite able to look at both women in front of him.

"Maybe we'd better go inside to talk." He suggested quietly; making his way back towards his home with Ada and Maria following behind. The brunette struggled her way out of Maria's grip and reluctantly she gave in and let go; turning on her heel and barking orders at the crowd to disperse and get back to whatever it was they were doing before. They did eventually albeit hesitantly. Ada glanced over her shoulder and watched them go as she made her way towards Tommy's; her brain quickly catching up with her actions. God... what they must think of her now. She was just grateful Ellie hadn't seen it; just as grateful as she was that the teen had chosen to stay with Dina the day before. Heaven only knew what she would've thought had she heard Joel's cold words when he'd left. She tried not to think about it as she looked down at her shaking hands; her right now turning red and swelling slightly. The shame engulfed her almost as rapidly as the anger had. And now she had to face the consequences of that anger.

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"...And after that he just left? You didn't even try to stop him?" Maria asked sadly as she poured Ada another whisky into her glass. She didn't waste any time downing the brown liquid as quickly as she did her first; coughing slightly as it burned her throat.

"What would've been the point? I tried to explain things and he made it perfectly clear that he wasn't in the mood to listen."

The nausea had come back; whether it was caused by the whiskey on an empty stomach or the stress of retelling what had happened between her and Joel yesterday, Ada wasn't sure. Though she guessed it was probably the former, if her headache was anything to go by. She slumped further into her chair as a deep sigh left her lungs; everything was such a mess and she was tired of feeling so hopeless. She turned the empty glass along her hand that grasped it, her eyes red and raw from the tears and the worst night of sleep she'd had in weeks. "Maybe Joel is right." She wondered aloud. "Maybe this is all my fault and I deserve this. I'd hate me too."

Maria shook her head defiantly at Ada's words, reaching over to take the glass from her and placing it back onto the coffee table between them. "Joel doesn't hate you. And as far as blame goes...I'd say we're all at fault for how we handled this. Some of us more than others." She stated bitterly, her blue cold eyes glaring at her husband sitting across from her on the living room couch. A small rag of wrapped ice held to his face. The man rolled his eyes and scoffed, pulling the ice pack from his nose and resting it by his knee as he leaned forward.

"I already told you that I was sorry. I don't know what else you want me to say."

"And I told you to keep that damn ice on your nose to take down the swelling." She berated without taking a breath. "You had no right to go behind Ada's back like that! And Joel didn't deserve to find out the way he did either!"

She was right. Tommy knew she was right. Always was. He owed his brother a hell of a lot more than yelling the truth at him like he had. But he had just been so angry. So frustrated; it had come out before he could stop it and then it had been too late to take it back. He honestly hadn't expected Joel to react the way he did. So cold and harsh with the way he'd shouted at Ada...Tommy knew how much his brother loved her. And yet he'd all but ambushed the poor woman to get answers. He uttered another apology and sat back with the ice cooling his throbbing nose that was now beginning to bruise. He didn't blame Ada for hitting him either; he'd definitely deserved it. There were a lot of things all of them wished they could've done differently. Hindsight was a nice thing in theory but now it was proving to be painfully useless once the damage was already done.

His sister in law rose from her seat and as he watched her pace about the room, the more his guilt niggled at him. She ran her hands through her greying roots and down through the fading brunette locks that cascaded down her back, they were still shaking as she moved to rest them on her neck while she continued pacing.

"Ada..." He tried cautiously." Ada..."

"You shouldn't blame Tommy for this Maria, this is my fault." She interjected and paused looking down at the blonde who could only give the woman a look of pity in return. "I mean it, Joel was right with everything he said. I'm a fucking coward!" The couple shared a look as Ada laughed bitterly at her words. "I was too afraid to deal with what happened so I left. Because I was terrified that if I had stayed...If I had tried to help him remember, forcing him to live with a damn stranger; he'd eventually decide that life was better without me. It's stupid and it's selfish..." her voice quivered as she held back tears, her arms falling from her neck to hold herself. "...but there it is."

Maria was quick to reassure her; rushing to her feet and pulling her into a hug. Ada pulled back as she was offered an old handkerchief from the other woman's pocket. Her sniffles subsiding as she was encouraged to sit down again.

"Ada, Joel loves you. He might not remember that but it doesn't just go away. You still have a chance to fix things."

Ada scoffed out a wet sob and shook her head. "No...it's over Maria. As far as he's concerned; I'm just the coldhearted bitch that abandoned him."

"Wait...Joel actually said that?" Tommy asked aghast, his eyes wide. The woman just shrugged dismissively. "He didn't have too...Though it's nothing less than I deserve.

Tommy wished she would stop being so hard on herself. He understood her guilt more than most and he hadn't even agreed with the plan in the first place. It just hadn't sat right with him to lie to Joel about his family. But then he'd spoken to his brother and realized just how much of his memory had been lost. And it seemed that he was losing himself in it. Joel was becoming angry and bitter at the world for taking something from him, for harming him in a way he hadn't been able to control. It was eerily similar to the darkness he'd descended into when he'd lost Sarah. When he'd lost all hope for happiness and decency. There was no mercy or love. It was just a means to an end in order to survive. That wall that Joel had built around himself to keep the world out. To keep emotions just out of reach. And Tommy feared his brother falling into it again. Ellie and Ada had pulled him out of it once, he had hoped they would've been able to do it again. Now he was starting to worry he'd been wrong.

He pulled back the rag and thankfully it seemed as though his nose had stopped bleeding. He discarded the spoiled cloth on the coffee table; taking in the silence that had fallen in the room. Both his wife and sister in law sat quietly with the same tired looks and stern frowns upon their faces. No one had the answers anymore, no matter how much they pretended they did.

"Ada..." his voice was quiet but it caught her attention as she glanced up at him. "I'm sorry."

She nodded meekly and smiled. "Me too. I'm sorry I punched you in the face." He laughed; waving his hand coolly as he shrugged. "Nah, don't worry about it. I mean I'm pretty sure you broke my nose but ya know...we're good sis." Ada laughed as Maria jokingly rolled her eyes at her husband's dramatics. It was badly bruised at best, both they and Tommy knew that. But Ada appreciated him trying to lighten the mood. It was the first time in a long time that she'd truly laughed since Joel's attack. And it was nice to feel something other than grief for even a second.

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Ellie tried to keep up with the rushing of her mind the quicker her pace picked up. She'd already been home to find the place empty, the only other place she could think to check would be Tommy and Maria's to find her mother. Her sneakers skidded slightly against the porch wood when she stopped to tap on the door. Her surrogate aunt greeting her with a warm smile as she opened the front door.

"Is my mom here?" The teen asked softly. Maria simply nodded, letting the young girl inside and following her into the living room. She walked in to find her mom and Tommy sat together chuckling lowly at their shared stories and fond memories. A half emptied bottle of whiskey sitting between them, with three half drunk glasses on the table. Ellie figured the three of them must've been here most of the day. Her mom shifted when she noticed her daughter, scooting along the couch to make room for her. Ellie made her way around the coffee table towards them, wincing when she saw the state of Tommy's face. "Jeez what the fuck happened to you?" She asked in concern. But Tommy just snorted a laugh. "It's a long story, don't worry about it."

The girl scoffed, a sarcastic smile spreading across her face as sat down.

"Is everything okay?"

She couldn't stop herself from fidgeting at her mother's question, instantly going back to her nervous habit. Her fingernail beds were already sore from the hours she'd spent picking at them. "I uh...I can't find Joel. I wanted to talk to him. I stopped by the house but he wasn't there." Stunned silence filled the room at Ellie's admission, Tommy's face full of confusion when he glanced at her beside him.

"Why'd you want to talk to him?" He asked. She took a moment before answering, looking to her mom with sadness in her eyes.

"I heard what happened between you two yesterday. I know what he said about us."

"Oh sweetheart, come here." She didn't say anything as Ada pulled her into her arms, instead just snuggled further into her warmth. Her head leaning against her shoulder. Hands once buried inside her jacket sleeves.

"I just thought maybe I could try talking to him...maybe if I tell him everything he'd understand or he'd forgive us for leaving." She explained." This is my fucking fault! This happened to him because of me; because of what he did to protect me...I need him to know I'm sorry...that I'm trying to fix things. That I'm trying to make it better and when we find them we can--"

"Wait, hold on, find who?"

Oh shit now Ellie had done it. She pulled back from her mother's arms, a look of guilt pulled at her brows as she chewed nervously at her lip. She tried to avoid eye contact but was only greeted with more accusing stares from Maria and Tommy.

"Ellie.." Maria uttered disapprovingly. But she didn't answer once again, attempting to avoid the eyes staring at her.

"Ellie what aren't you telling us?"

"Promise you won't get mad?" It was a big ask. Ellie knew that when she finally took the chance to look her mother in the eye, hoping that she'd soften even just a little bit. But all she saw was worry and that only made her feel worse for lying to her.

"Ellie." She warned sternly and the girl knew she had to come clean. She took a deep breath, her head falling in defeat as she finally gave in.

"Okay...I lied before. I wasn't staying at Dina's the last couple of days...we've been staying at one of the outposts outside of town tracking the fireflies...or what was left of them from Abbey's group."

"I'm sorry you've been doing what?!" "Are you insane?!" She flinched at both her mother and Maria's outbursts that echoed together in the heavy silence of the room. She shared a look with Tommy as he flashed her a small smile of gratitude but it flickered away as quickly as it came when both women rose to their feet in a rush of anger and frustrated annoyance.

"Ellie, we've talked about this and we agreed to leave it alone."

"No you fucking decided!" The teen challenged as she snapped to her feet, her face snarling into a roaring temper that could easily rival her mother's. "Those fuckers could come back! They already found us once, what's stopping them coming back to finish what they started?!"

Ada scoffed at Ellie's argument throwing her hands up, exasperated they were having this argument yet again! She understood her daughter's worries but she was certain the Fireflies had no reason to come back. They thought Joel was dead and she was determined to keep it that way. They'd had this same conversation again and again and yet every time Ellie would always push back.

"She's right."

The girls all fell silent to the single voice that spoke up, as all eyes turned to Tommy. Maria seething at her husband and Ada downright irritated that he'd shamelessly encourage this reckless behaviour. Ellie just appreciated having Tommy on her side at least.

"Tommy..." Maria warned, her eyes pleading him to stop.

"Well she is! Do you really wanna live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders?! Just hoping to God that those bastards don't come back. Yeah they think Joel is dead but for how long? They already managed to get word he was living in Jackson in the first damn place...what do you think they'll do when they realise that he's not quite as dead as they thought?" He paused, stopping to look at Ada as she held back her tears, her bottom lip quivering and he was quick to her side. His hand resting on her shoulder.

"Look I'm sorry... I know this is not what you want to hear right now but Ellie has a point. We can end this. If it were any of us, Joel would be halfway there already."

She shook her head, her breath catching in her throat. "No he wouldn't." She argued.

"He absolutely fucking would!" Ellie shouted. Her words stopped them all dead. Knowing looks exchanged between the adults before walking to huddle by the table. They knew Ellie was right. If any one of them in that room had been attacked; Joel would be doing everything he could to get them the justice they deserved. He'd never lay down and let them get away with it. Ada let out a sigh of defeat as she looked back to Ellie, gesturing for her to sit back down. She did, though moved hesitant at first. Ada sat silent, her mind clearing and calculating for a second as she sat with her hands rested against her mouth before she eventually lowered them to speak. "So...you were tracking those bastards...did you find any?" She asked apprehensively. Ellie swallowed hard and cleared her throat, sitting up in her seat before nodding.

"Yeah...Dina and I watched the area for hours. Most of the group left but a couple stayed behind at the hunting lodge. Two of them...I don't know their names. They were packing up their stuff. We followed them out when they went hunting for food. Managed to lure some infected on the way back..." Ellie didn't realise she was shaking as she spoke until her mother took her hand and squeezed it gently. "We stood and watched as the clickers tore those fuckers apart.."

"Good riddance." Tommy stated bitterly.

"I came back to tell you what happened but then I heard the neighbours gossiping about what happened between you and Joel, all that stuff he said. I thought I could fix it. But when I went to the house he wasn't there. So I sent Dina to ask around town if anyone had seen him and I came here." Adaline nodded slowly, taking everything in. She looked at Tommy and Maria both sharing the same lost look on their faces. They all knew what they needed to do next. It was just a case of whether they had any strength left to do it.

Though Ada never got the chance to answer; instead their heads turned to the direction of stomping footsteps and the door bursting opening to a breathless Dina, panting as she almost slipped on the doormat under her boots. Ellie flew to her feet and darted to her girlfriend, asking her what was wrong.

"It's Joel!" She gasped. "He's gone..."

#the last of us #Joel Miller #joel and ellie #the last of us part 2 #joel miller x oc #the last of us part ii #ellie williams #fanfiction #tlou #joel miller #starlessskies writes

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freakie-deakie · 3 years

Text

Lucas // How To: Kill an Idea

i have been really struggling with feeling numb lately and i super projected that onto this character. i really do apologize if it doesn’t make for the most interesting read. i may or may not end up rewriting this when i’m feeling better.

Warnings: emotional numbness and detachment

Masterlist

THIS IS PART 2!!! Read part one here: How To: Hurt My Feelings

Lucas x Reader (angst // 7.3k words); ft. stepbrother!Johnny

The way the lights reflected off the water brought only distant memories of the Han flowing through the city of Seoul and mirroring the life around it. The bustle of the city, the calm of the river banks. The things that you neighbored so long ago.

You could become so lost in the remnants of the past - that you would forget to lose yourself in the readiness of the moment.

You owed the Garonne. After tirelessly looking over you for months on end, you owed her your presence at the very least. How dare you look at her in all of her beauty and only think of another.

She smiled at you nonetheless. The Garonne sat with you one last night and told you how much she would miss you - how much all of Bordeaux would miss you. She told you that the stone buildings, the ones in the alleyway that you cut through every night as you return to your dorm, didn't know what they were going to do without you. She told you that the little birds that had nested outside of your window had practiced a sadder song to sing after you left. She swore that the lights in the city shone brighter than they ever had before when you landed and that they would fade upon your departure.

She made you promise that you would come back to see all of them: the buildings, the birds, and the lights. On your own accord, you promised you would come back to see her.

The Garonne waved you off that night, sending you to bed and wishing you a restful slumber and a safe flight in the morning.

Tired and stiff, you limp out of the terminal with your laptop clutched to your chest and a yawn escaping your lips. You mindlessly followed the crowd of other travelers to baggage claim and patiently waited for your suitcase to be sorted onto the conveyor belt.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle," a familiar voice reached your ears, "I believe a poor boy has been waiting far too long to see you here."

You spun on your heel, a bright smile suddenly overtaking your features. "Lucas," you call quietly as you envelop him in a tight hug. You had barely moved for sixteen hours straight, but once in his arms, every desire for motion ceased. It seemed that he agreed, as he latched onto you and refused to let go.

"I missed you," he admitted before placing a kiss on the top of your head and moving to grab your bag off the belt.

"I missed you more," you answered softly.

He took your hand and kissed it before leading you through the airport and down to the parking garage where your brother was waiting, leaned up against his car, and dusting the cigarette ashes off of his sleeve.

"Hey there, Miss France," he says as he moves to envelop you in a hug of his own. "How was your flight?"

"It was fine," you answer simply. "Long, but fine."

"Well, you have an hour-long car trip to give us the highlights of France, if you're not too tired. We could stop by a late-night diner too if you're hungry."

You nodded along as you climbed into the car, enjoying the banter after your long trip. But as you rode in the passenger seat home (funny, you thought, that you still called it home), you took in things about the city that you never really appreciated.

The locals that ignored the do-not-cross signs, the billboards that were so shrouded in smog that you could barely read them, the stray cats that freely wandered the city like it was their own personal playground. All the things that you used to neighbor.

And when you got to the bridge that you'd longed to see since you left, the Han welcomed you home with as much love for you as it had six months ago. You made it a point to tell him about the Garonne sometime. You think he would enjoy hearing about her.

"The pastries," you say simply. "It was France; of course the pastries were the best."

Johnny dropped you back at your apartment and your boyfriend opted to stay the night, helping you settle back into the space that you could once again call your own.

Another tenant had contracted your apartment for the time you were away - there were a few more cuts and bruises than you remember leaving, but it was nothing you couldn't patch up. The bed wasn't where you had it, the shower knobs had been replaced, and an empty curtain rod rest stretched along your window seal.

"The stuff you left with us, it's still back at the frat," he chuckles awkwardly.

"That's okay." You offer him a small smile and plop down on one of the only four pieces of stand-alone furniture left in the space, the old black sofa in the same spot it's always been. "At least they didn't take my couch."

"Y/N, darling, I don't know if I would lay on that if I were you."

His words took a moment to register, but when they did your eyes shot open and you were out of your seat comically fast. "Oh God, ew..."

He laughed again and pressed a small kiss to your temple. "Let's take a shower and then we'll figure things out, okay? And you know, you don't have to sleep here tonight. There are no sheets on the bed or anything, so you can-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss and lead him to the bathroom, ready for a warm shower to take away all of your travel pains.

"Not really," you answered honestly, rolling your head to the side to look at your boyfriend. You'd been looking at his ceiling for a while, head resting on his thigh while he played with your hair. It felt nice, you thought, to get a chance to live in your memories - specifically the memories you had left with him here in his room, the ones that always waited for you while you were away. "All of my days in France were spent doing something or another. By myself, with the people that I met. So no, it never really got mundane. I didn't think that kind of life existed for anyone over the age of nine." You let out a small but heavy breath. "I guess I had to experience it for myself to understand."

Lucas doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he focuses on gently detangling a knot that his fingers had caught on. Your hair was longer now than it was.

"I'm happy for you," he reassures you. He doesn't quite know what he's reassuring, but he reassures you nonetheless.

"Lucas?" you ask softly.

"Hmm?" he responds, his gruff voice sounding tired.

"What would you have done if I didn't come back?" His finger stop working in your mess of locks and all of his attention is focused on dissecting what you just asked him.

"I don't know what answer you want me to give you," he says smally, glancing down at you before retraining his gaze on the ceiling, its texture nearly lost in the dark.

"There isn't a certain answer I want. I'm just curious."

"I don't understand the question," he almost interrupts, suddenly a bit tenser than he was only moments ago.

"I don't mean anything by it, Lucas. It's not a loaded question." Your soft voice is enough to lul his hand back to its comforting motions. "Would you have gone after me or would you have let me go?"

"I would have gone after you without a second thought. Definitely, I would have."

"I thought about staying you know."

There's a pause, a small silence of thought on both ends.

"Why didn't you," he asks with genuine curiosity.

"It wasn't home. You weren't there."

A wolf whistle follows you into the kitchen the next morning and you feel the need to suppress your groan.

"If I knew you were staying the night, I would have held a cup against the door."

"Oh, gross, Jaehyun," you sneer, turning to jab your elbow into the older boy's side.

"What? Not everyone gets to tour France." You can't help but dramatically roll your eyes and threaten him with a punch.

"Do you want a cup of coffee? I was about to put on a pot."

"Sure," he smiles gratefully. "And you can tell me about Bordeaux while we wait."

"Oh, it was beautiful," you think back as you prepare the grounds. "As the sun was setting, the sky would turn golden. If there were any clouds that evening, they would turn all different shades of pink. The lights over the water - words wouldn't do it justice."

Jaehyun chuckles before yawning out, "Well, that's a first."

"Jung Jaehyun, if you are trying to say that I talk too much-"

"That's not what I'm saying," he defends. "I mean you always have a way with words. It's your thing, ya' know. Words."

You hum, turning back to your task. "I guess I hadn't thought about it that way - at least not for a while."

The door to the kitchen swings open and another boy ungracefully stumbles into the kitchen. Haechan is clad in a plain T-shirt and dark shorts (if you could call them that). His hair is no longer silver; it's now a dusty brown, curling up into the picture of a sandstorm blowing about his head. He looked healthier, or maybe just more mature since you last saw him. He'd filled out a bit, and grown into those long limbs of his.

"Man, what's will all the commotion in here? It's Saturday and- Y/N?" The boy immediately perks up upon seeing you. "Oh my gosh, Y/N! You're back!" He hugs you and sits down at the island beside his older friend, suddenly as energetic as a child on Christmas morning. "Great, because I made a list of pranks we're gonna pull together. Jaehyun, since you're here, I guess you can help us too. Okay, first of all, we're gonna shove a bag of chocolate powder mix down the shower drain. I'd like to make sure that one gets Mark because he blamed me for breaking Johnny's lamp."

There were things you would have to readjust to in Korea. Things that you didn't think would catch you off guard, yet still managed to turn you around every now and again. The wet bath was one of them; you were going to miss your tub. You also suddenly found bowing a bit more strange than you originally had, as well as keeping personal space when you greeted someone altogether. Most prominently, the language barrier that you weren't so sure you'd ever really overcome in your first life in Korea.

Words were suddenly weird to you again. Ideas that could manifest themselves in one language but not another. At times, there were no proper parallels, nor were there ways in which to express everything going on inside your head.

Though you tried your hardest, what little French you learned simply wouldn't translate properly to English, or the English wouldn't translate to Korean, or the Korean to French, or the French to Korean, or the Korean to the English. The words just never came out the way you wanted them to, and in a way, it was like a piece of you fell away from the rest, lost somewhere between all of your different lives.

Lucas noticed how much quieter you seemed since you'd returned.

You made it a point to generally avoid contact with everyone while you were away. You occasionally checked in with them to let them know that you were alive, but other than that had kept your space. You became more dedicated to learning about yourself and how to care for your well-being. You began making decisions of your own, from what you would eat every night and how early you would wake up every morning to what debacles were worth your time and energy. You decided that most of them weren't. You decided that pondering your life was taking years off of it, and that you didn't like to eat snails. You decided that you weren't so bad after all, and for that matter, no one else was either. You decided to live.

"Hey, can I see something on your Instagram real quick?" you asked softly, setting your bowl of fancy ramen on the coffee table in front of you. "I think one of my friends just had a baby and I wanted to see if she's posted any pictures yet."

Without giving it much thought, Lucas hands you his phone and turns back to his meal. "What happened to your Instagram?" he questioned.

"Deleted it," you quip, pulling up your friend's account. He hears you coo before you shove the device back into his hands, urging him to look at the baby. He thought the child, redfaced and wet, looked like an alien, though he'd never tell you that.

"Why'd you delete it?" he pursues.

You simply shrug and cover more of your legs with the blanket that rested on the both of you. "Didn't need it." He gives you an unsatisfied groan, but you can't think of a better answer. It was simple - while you took plenty of photos to document your life, you no longer found it necessary to post them.

"Okay," he tries, "what about your Kakao Story?"

"Deleted."

"So you no longer use Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Skype, Instagram, or Kakao Story? What if someone needs to contact you?"

"I still have Kakao and Discord."

"Okay, what about my posts? Or your other friends'?"

"If they have something to tell me, they will," you sip your hot tea and lean into his side.

"It’s like she doesn't want to talk to me. She doesn't want to talk to anyone," groans Lucas as he sprawls out on Mark's bed. "She doesn't talk nearly as much as she used to."

Mark's hand didn't stop relaying notes to his journal as he talked with Lucas, translating as many of his lyrical ideas onto paper as he could keep up with.

"She's not the same person she used to be, Lucas."

Lucas had trouble making sense of it, why Mark sounded so sure about that. It almost hurt his pride that one of his roommates was telling him something about you, his girlfriend.

"Who is?" Lucas rubs his eyes. "We've all grown up since then."

Mark's hand halts. "Since then?"

"Since-" he sighs. "Ya' know, since... Since we..."

"Don't hurt yourself," Mark chuckles. "Maybe," he offers, "this chapter of your life is written in a different style. Did you even notice? That your life hasn't been going the same since she got back?"

"Of course it's not the same," the elder defends. "It's infinitely better."

"Spare me. Look, I'm just saying, the less she talks, the more dialog you're putting in your own book. And I think it's better this way. I mean, I can't tell you how to write your life, but I can honestly say I think you're doing better now than you were before. You started using your words instead of acting on impulse. That's not easy, man. Words are hard."

Words: your staple, your foundation, your life. They were your nothing anymore.

And Lucas didn't know how to understand.

He tried not to take it personally, but soon you fell into almost complete silence both with him and his friends. When you joined them for a Smash Bros competition, you didn't exclaim your victories nor mourn your defeats. When you dressed, you didn't ask for his opinions on the color of your lipstick nor the type of heel you should wear. When you laid in bed with him and watched his fan turn above your heads, you refused to humor his desire to hear your voice. And he took the fault upon himself.

He felt guilty asking anything of you anymore because you never opened your mouth to ask for favors in return.

"Y/N, will you come cuddle with me?" he calls with as much endearment as he can shove into his tone.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

You hadn't watched the news in months, and he knew that. You, ever the stickler for meaningful conversation, had devoted large portions of your time to staying up to date before. As of late, however, you preferred "to watch the world crash and burn around you from a first-person point-of-view rather than a third-person point-of-view."

He hoped that sitting you down to watch the news for a while would spark a fire in your opinionated soul. So imagine his reaction when you crawled into his arms and fell asleep, paying absolutely no mind to the colors or words on the screen.

His next plan was to plant your favorite novel in the hands of your favorite philosopher.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

He shoved the book into Doyoung's hands with a stern "fix her." Needless to say, Doyoung had the book read within a couple of days and Lucas invited you over as soon as his friend flipped through the pages for the final time.

"A piece of modern art," he suggests. "A sorrow lost to the sands of time and a meaning forgotten by society."

Lucas watches in amazement as you sit and nod along to everything that Doyoung says. You didn't interject your ideas even once. You just listened.

He was running out of ideas. So his last plot was his last hope that there may be a bit of yourself left inside of you. He would take you on a date - the best date you've ever been on - and thrust so much happiness and gratefulness onto you that you wouldn't be able to contain it so silently. He knew it was a dirty trick, but how else was he to make sure that you were okay if you would no longer tell him anything about yourself.

This was for your own good, he reminded himself.

Really, he should have asked you out first, before he came barging into your apartment (tidier than he'd ever seen it before and reeking of cleaner) with a bundle of flowers and demanding your attention for the evening.

Surprise.

He was about to push open the door to your bedroom when he heard a soft sniffle from inside. His eyes widened and his shoulders fell. His heart broke when he heard a small sob fall from your lips.

He peeked inside. It was dark, mind the laptop that sat on your desk and illuminating your shaking form. You laid your head on one arm and used your other hand to rake through your stringy hair. Your glasses had been tossed to the shadowy void and your cheeks were wet and sticky.

The header of your philosophy paper stared you down as you unraveled before it. The rest of the blank page was absolutely daunting. Your acceptance of the world around you had drained away your ability to have a coherent cognitive thought about it, forget about writing one.

To some extent, you missed the days when you were confident in your ability to build empires out of words. Now, you couldn't even build a ten-page paper, especially not by 11:59 pm that night.

To a greater extreme, you couldn't understand why you would want to return to your opinionated ways or your charismatic skills that abused fact until it bent to your will. What purpose did fact or, more importantly, idea have anymore, other than to aid your ability to charm others to abide by your purpose?

It felt wrong to write a definitive philosophical thesis, especially when you couldn't bring yourself to definitively believe in anything particular.

"Y/N," you jumped at the sound of your own name and quickly wiped your cheeks with the back of your sleeves, sitting up straighter and making yourself more presentable before you turned around to face him. Lucas saw it all. He watched you put your mask back on right before his eyes, and he realized that you were hurting in ways that he couldn't see until now.

"Lucas," you cursed your shaky voice. "What's up? Why are you here?"

He takes a few quiet steps until he's standing before you and kneels to look into your eyes. There are things that he wants to say, 'you're scaring me' being the most prominent, but he knows he should choose his words more carefully.

"I want to know what's going on. I want to help." He slips his hands into your own and rests them on your knees.

"I just don't think you can," you answer simply.

"Can you tell me what's the matter?"

You shake your head and the tears come rushing back to your eyes. "I don't know what's the matter." It's honest. You don't know why your head can't wrap around your assignments, or your conversations, or your own thoughts as of late.

All that time spent with yourself taught you how to understand yourself and your own needs. You feel that you have exchanged your understanding of the world around you for a simpler version of life. Did that make you selfish? You didn't know.

All Lucas could do was watch you as you fell back into your frustrations. It didn't take long before your brows were knitted back together, your nose was running, and your eyes had glazed over as you retreated back inside of yourself.

"Y/N," he softly called. Your eyes only met his for a second before they were cast somewhere else and your attention ran away from you once again.

"I think," you started, unsure of every word that slipped past your lips. "I think you should go."

You didn't know how to explain to him that you were afraid of what he might think of you at that moment, or that you didn't want to hurt his feelings any more than you guessed you already had.

"I don't want to go. I'm tired of leaving you alone." He stood, gently pulling you to stand with him, and led you to the edge of your bed with a delicate touch. "You don't have to sleep. You don't have to talk. Just lay here with me for a little while and let me be close to you."

"You know," Lucas started as he tossed the noodles in the pan. He'd tucked you into the couch earlier that evening and told you to forget the paper you'd been stressing over. You happily complied. "I don't know how to say this any better." You listened keenly as you pulled a throw pillow into your lap and wrapped yourself around it. "I know that this is probably the last thing you want to talk about, but I did something very wrong to you. I'm still sorry, and I hope you know that. But..." He cast you a quick glance over his shoulder before reaching for the seasoning in your pantry. "I don't think I ever gave you the chance to yell at me. Or like, to be mad at me - ya' know?"

You thought for a moment, front teeth chewing on your thumbnail before you shook your head softly and answered, "I don't want to yell at you. I don't want to be mad at you."

You heard a repressed sound of discouragement before looking to see him dishing your dinner plates. "I wish you would. I wish you would yell at me and tell me what I did was wrong. I wish you would be angry with me for a little while. I wish you would just tell me something about how you feel about it."

He handed you your plate and watched as you ran back inside of your own head. He watched your eyes glaze over as you replayed his words, and yet you made sense of almost none of them. You didn't understand what he was asking of you.

You toyed with your food as you tried to process his request. You didn't even notice when he took his seat beside you, nor did you notice the burning gaze he watched you with.

"Y/N," he called, shaking you out of your trance. "I want you to yell at me." You looked at him like a deer caught in headlights - big black eyes staring down a deadly light. "How did you feel when it happened? Shout something horrific at me about what was going through your head at the time."

You took a small bite and swallowed, training your eyes on the coffee table before you. "I don't remember."

You looked so small, so helpless, and so distant. You were there, right next to him, and yet you were so far away. He was having trouble finding you.

"Yell. Break something. For fuck's sake, please."

The more pressure he applied, the further you seemed to slip away. Before he knew it, you were gone.

"That's not her anymore." He found himself on Mark's bed once again, tucked into the younger boy's covers and pouring out his heart. "She's not all there. She just looks so empty now."

"Dude, I don't know why you come to me for this sort of thing. It's not like I'm just great with girls," the younger quips from his desk chair. "And Johnny would know more about her than I would-"

"No. He absolutely cannot know that I broke his sister."

Mark hummed in thought for a moment before he laid his pen down in his textbook and turned his full body to his friend. "Lucas, be honest with me about something." Lucas nodded. "Did you see anyone else while she was in France?"

Lucas shook his head as he took in his friend's words carefully. He had no right to be mad at the accusation, so he kept his temper in check until a particularly vile thought trotted across his mind. He sat up immediately. "Oh God, do you think that she did? Do you think she considered it a break and she slept with someone else?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying- hey- Lucas, stop." Lucas was already to his feet and out the door before he could finish. "So not my fault," he grumbled to himself.

Finally, it all made sense to him. You couldn't be mad at him if you were also guilty. You couldn't yell at him for committing a sin you'd also committed. He was going to redress the scale. He was going to make you the word again. He was going to be the action.

The solid thuds against your wooden door made you jump up from your floor. Adrenaline spread through your fingertips and you took a step back towards your bedroom.

"We need to talk."

Lucas sounded angry. You pushed and pulled with your memory, but found no trace of experiencing this feeling before: fear of him. You moved against your gut to let him in. You barely opened the door before he pushed his way inside, rattling off accusation after accusation.

"Did you think we were on a break? Because we weren't on a break."

You just listened.

"Did you just forget about me while you were there? Did you just ignore the fact that I was waiting for you? I was stuck here, waiting for you every day while you were in France."

You didn't speak.

"So you just got to do whatever you wanted while I had to sulk here? You just couldn't control yourself, huh? Do you know how hard it was to keep control of myself while you were gone?"

'It was hard?' you thought.

"How about we take another break then? How about this time, I get to sleep with whoever I want? Well? Aren't you even going to open your mouth to defend yourself?"

You didn't.

"Am I wrong?" He prompted. "I didn't think so. Now we're on a break. Now you can fuck around with whoever you want."

Shocked couldn't begin to describe the state he left you in. You stood there, clambering for answers as to what could have sent him on a warpath to your apartment in the first place. His seemingly unprompted fit of jealous rage couldn't really have been sparked without a cause, you figured.

Maybe he'd seen pictures of you with your male friends in France. Maybe a rumor had been spread about you. Maybe he was just tired of you and feeding himself a rotten narrative as an excuse to break up with you.

You didn't want to know. You opted to rather accept his decision, and all of your own emotions that came flooding back with it.

"Hey man, have you talked to Y/N lately? She took one of my classes last year, and I wanted to see if I could get her notes before semester tests." Haechan asks his elder who lay sprawled on the couch.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.'

"What?" Haechan asked, looking up from his phone. "What do you mean you haven't talked to her?"

Lucas lazily yawned and reached for his soda can beside him. "It's not like she's my girlfriend or something. I'm not her keeper."

"Shit, Lucas, you didn't," Mark groaned, rubbing his temple.

"No, you were right. She was sleeping with other guys while she was in France. She didn't even try to deny it."

"Hang on, I never said that. You conjured that one up all on your own, buddy."

Haechan frowned as his frat members debated. He was focused on a much bigger issue at large.

"When did you break up with her?" he asks cautiously.

"Hey, we're just on a break. Don't go getting any ideas-"

"Jesus fuck, can your ego get any bigger?" Lucas crossed his arms and refocused his attention on the television, jaw clenched tightly. "You're so annoying," Haechan mumbled under his breath, already moving towards the door and shooting your brother a message telling him to meet in front of your apartment.

"Damn, you got called annoying by Haechan. How does that feel?"

"Can it, Lee."

You could feel it all, the swarm of emotions swirling and twirling around inside your chest, and yet you couldn't begin to name any of them. All you knew was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.

You laid in your bed and watched your ceiling fondly. You liked how it didn't move. You didn't struggle to keep up with it. And it was dependable; it would always be there.

You didn't move when the knock at your front door finally registered in your ears; you were tired of playing doorman in your own residence.

You were just tired actually.

"Y/N," Johnny called, lightly pushing open the door to your bedroom. A strong sense of deja vu winded you. You knew this scene, you'd lived it before. "It's me and Haechan. I'm sorry we didn't call first." You didn't know how they managed to get inside, nor did you care. You just wanted to sleep.

Johnny took a seat next to you on the side of your bed. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes in an attempt to capture your attention. That's when the smell hit you. The heavy stench of cigarettes washed over all of your senses causing you to retract from his touch. He looked shaken at first, scared that he might have hurt you.

"You didn’t smoke before," you recalled. It was almost a feat in and of itself to remember the bitter past, but the small victory was stifled by the thick, wet air of the bitter present.

His eyes softened before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack he'd bought just a few days before. "I started a few months ago while you were away. I knew you wouldn't be happy about it."

"I don't care," you answered promptly before slowly pulling yourself to sit up against your headboard.

Haechan watched from the doorway. He wondered if he'd ever seen someone in this state before, or if he ever would again. He looked at you and almost failed to see the human being in front of him. He watched you move like a frightened animal, stiff and weary. He watched your untrained gaze flicker between your brother and your brother's outstretched hand.

This couldn't have just been the work of Lucas, he concluded. There were more deeply rooted implications here. There was an unresolved issue before your idiot boyfriend played to his own role.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't know," you answered honestly.

Johnny looked to Haechan for support, but the younger could offer only his presence in this situation.

"That's okay," your brother soothed. "Haechan," he turned to your mutual friend, "can you call Ten and Yuta and see if they've, uh, noticed anything weird lately about..." He gestured to you. Haechan excused himself to place the calls. "Food? Food always helps, right?" he tried with a dry chuckle. You paid absolutely no mind to him.

"I can't take this," Ten muttered to himself, excusing himself from your bedroom. Five boys had soon found themselves huddled in your doorway, watching your every move intently as you resisted every attempt your brother made to move you.

You felt like a lab rat, being looked at from all angles as Johnny poked and prodded to see what would make you tick. It felt humiliating.

"Let's just go for a drive," he tried again, gently pulling your arms away from your chest and trying to guide you out of bed.

"No," you answered again, pulling yourself away from him and settling further back into your bed.

"Maybe we should just let her be for tonight," Jaehyun suggested, moving to stand beside your brother whose head was fallen in defeat.

"I can't just leave her like this, Jae. I still don't understand what's going on."

"Just give her some space," Jaehyun tried again. "This clearly isn't very effective."

Johnny sighed but ended up in compliance as everyone except for Jungwoo moved to your living room. They quietly deliberated as Jungwoo read allowed one of your favorite novels from the end of your bed, hoping against all hope that it would in some way bring you back from the void in which your mind seemed to currently reside.

"Honestly, we had planned to just come and cheer her up," Haechan had said. "We didn't know we'd find her like this. But I can't say it really surprised me, she's been off for months now."

"I thought something seemed weird. She hasn't said much to me in a while."

"Me either."

"Yeah, same."

Everyone generally agreed with Ten's statement.

"Do you guys think something happened in France?" Jaehyun suggests.

"Or maybe things haven't been going so well between her and Lucas for a while?" Yuta offers.

"Everything just feels like it's spinning," you said, cutting off Jungwoo's reading of Mary Shelley's finest work. He was just happy to have heard you say anything at all. "Everything is going so fast around me. I just wanna take a nap, sleep for a while." As you relayed your simple disposition, you found yourself moving to lay on your side, plenty warm but unwilling to relinquish your comforter. "I don't feel like I belong here, so I'm going to sleep instead."

Jungwoo set the book to the side and laid himself down at the end of your bed. "I don't feel like I belong here sometimes either," he relates.

"But you do," you say, looking over his features and seeing every sharp and jagged curve for the first time.

"You do too," he promises.

Hours of hushed worries bled into the night, and you awoke alone in your apartment in the morning. You had no initial intention of getting out of bed. It was the hardcover copy of Frankenstein standing upright on your bedside table that stirred your aching joints into motion.

Then you remembered.

How could you ever even forget?

The Han River smiled when you arrived, taking a seat on his bank. He asked you why you'd been such an unfamiliar face as of late, to which you had no reply. He thanked you for coming to visit him nonetheless and told you about how much Seoul had missed you while you were away. He told you about the alley cats and how they missed the treats you would occasionally leave for them on your way to classes. He told you about how much the sky cried about you spending spring away. He told you that the city lights drowned out the stars while you were gone, but let them peak back into the city when you returned.

You had no beating heart to pour out into his water, so instead, you gave him your soul. The Han understood and sat with you until you bore no more faults on which to complain. He told you he missed you. You told him that you missed him too. You told him about the Garonne and how much you thought he would like her. Then he sent you off into the afternoon bustle of the city with a watchful eye.

You wondered the streets for a while. Not a penny in your pocket, and still you found so many little joys in all the cracks and crevices of Seoul. You pet the stray cats; they'd always been particularly fond of you. You walked around an antique shop making wild guesses about the past lives of every item in sight. You climbed a tree in the park without a damn to spare the onlookers. By sunset, your feet had taken you back to your campus and directly to the front door of your apartment.

"How about some tea?" you ask yourself as you push the door open, not half expecting to be ambushed by a group of concerned young men demanding to know where you were.

"Would you all like some tea too?"

It was still a struggle to hear your voice most of the time, but visible relief settled over those who'd seen you cowering from your brother in your bedroom only days prior. They all continued to check in on you frequently, as they still had difficulties coaxing you away from your apartment.

"Lucas," Johnny had finally caught him lurking in the kitchen around midnight. He was beginning to grow irritable with how troublesome he had become to locate.

Lucas froze, cup ramen clasped in one hand with chopsticks in the other. Busted like a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Look, I'm sorry about your sister," he started without really knowing where he was going. "I know that I kinda jumped the gun-"

"I don't want to fight with you again," the elder said. He had kept his calm since the situation had arisen. The last time you and your boyfriend had a falling out, all hell broke loose in their dorms. He had landed a good solid punch on the more-than-deserving idiot and held the belief that he probably deserved a few more. However, he'd rather not have everyone in a frenzy once more, turning against one another. "I just need you to tell me what was going on before you left."

Lucas's shoulders slump and he sets his late-night meal on the countertop. "I was just so frustrated. She always let me into her head before - but when she came back, she just stopped talking to me. She shut me out," he relayed. "I tried everything I could think of. I tried to make her really happy, I tried to make her really mad. She wouldn't talk to me."

"She won't talk to me either," Johnny said, resting a reassuring hand on Lucas's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he responds, taking some measure of the blame upon himself. He felt that maybe if he'd had more patience with you, he could have helped you to get better. Now you were detaching yourself from not only him but your other friends and family as well. "Do you think she would want to see me?"

Your brother shrugged but a small smirk played on his lips. "I dunno. Maybe you should go find out tomorrow."

Needless to say, Lucas felt displaced and burdened by heavy guilt as he stood in your doorway, looking down on your fragile body. The last time he came knocking on your door in the most awful hours of the morning, he begged and cried on his knees for you not to leave him. He felt himself resist the urge to fall to the ground and repeat his mantra of pleas.

You didn't ask him why he was there so early in the morning, nor did you ask him if he wanted to come in. Your stare made his skin feel cold. He cleared his throat to dispel some of the awkward tension that he felt clawing at his airways.

"Can I come in?" Without a word, you moved to the side. "Thank you. Were you asleep?"

"No," you say simply, trailing behind him as he steps into your kitchen.

He lets out a low chuckle as he glances around the room. It looked so surprisingly unhomely and clean. Not a single dish in the sink, nor a potted plant out of place. "I keep messing up pretty badly, don't I?"

He hated the empty way you looked at him. It was as if you didn't know him. It was as if you had just let a complete stranger into your apartment.

"I don't understand, and I'm really trying to. I know that you know that things have changed since you got back. I don't know what that means yet, but I do know that I still love you. And that I'm stupid. I know that too."

You hummed along, a thoughtful expression overtaking your blank features.

"And I know that I’m sorry. I let a stupid idea get into my head and I let it hurt my own feelings. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. Please don't leave me."

You didn't offer an answer, instead opening your arms and inviting him back into your embrace. He placed a small kiss on your lips, something he felt like he hadn't done in ages, and wrapped himself around you in an effort to keep you by his side forever.

"Are you happy here in Seoul?" your boyfriend asked, picking at the grass in front of his crossed legs. He looked at you as you looked down at the water. "I mean, I know you don't want to go back to (country), and I have a feeling that you don't exactly want to go live with my family in China. But like, would you rather be in Bordeaux? Or would you rather stay here?"

"I don't know." He hummed and waited for you to elaborate, but you made no real effort to.

"I know that we're still young and we don't have to make any decisions about where we want to live yet," he cooed, looking up to watch the sun set behind the large city towers, "but would you stay here in Seoul with me for a little while?"

You nodded, reaching over to take his hand in your own before pulling him to lay in the grass with you.

"You know, you're not the same person that you were before you left. I've realized that," he said with a sad smile as he looked over at you and placed a small kiss on your chin, pulling a small giggle from your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I can't wait to get to know you again."

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