#“probably not because he's away from home a lot” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 1 day ago

Text

THE LOCKER NEXT TO HIS PT1 | LN4

an: the forth installment! i had a lot of fun writing this one as you can tell it is much longer than all the other ones, this one i am holding very dear to my chest and would die for this version of lando, following this one is med school!isack, i hope you enjoy this installment! i have to post them in two parts because its too long lmao

wc: 17.2k (both parts together)

warnings: mentions of death & trauma

summary: lando was just a tired firefighter in a flat that smelled like rice and regrets. then she showed up, quiet, sharp, accidentally charming. and suddenly things weren’t so routine. they flirt like it’s an olympic sport, but grief lingers like smoke. somewhere between post-it notes and midnight gelato, they start to save each other.

PART TWO uniformed hearts masterlist

LANDO HADN'T MEANT TO STAY IN THAT FLAT MORE THAN SIX MONTHS. A stopgap, that’s what he’d called it. Just somewhere cheap, close to the station, until something better came along. That was two years ago.

Now, the walls still had damp blooming quietly up the corners, the boiler made a wheezing noise every time someone flushed the loo, and someone, probably Isack, had blu-tacked a page of anatomy revision notes to the fridge like it belonged there. But it was cheap. And close to work. And, in a way he didn’t often admit, just familiar enough to feel like home.

He shared it with two others. Franco, a paramedic who was mostly never around and staying at his girlfriend’s place, and Isack, a med student who never spoke above a whisper and survived almost exclusively on rice. Lando saw more of their laundry than their faces.

The place smelt faintly of washing powder and leftover curry. The living room rug was half-singed from a failed candle experiment last winter. Still, at the end of a long shift, it was warm. And sometimes that was enough.

This morning, he was already late.

He jammed a half-eaten cereal bar into his mouth, slung his fleece over one shoulder, and locked the flat behind him with the usual three-jiggle twist it took to get the key to behave. The sun hadn’t quite committed to rising yet, that strange hour when the world felt like it belonged to delivery vans and joggers and no one else.

The station was only ten minutes away. Twelve, if he stopped to grab a tea.

He didn’t.

Inside, the usual morning buzz was just beginning, chairs scraping, the telly droning low in the corner, Zak already sighing like the day had personally offended him.

Lando was halfway through pulling off his jacket when he saw her.

Standing in the kitchen, back turned, sleeves rolled up, one hand on the kettle and the other flicking through a file. Hair up. Posture that said she wasn’t just passing through.

He paused, briefly, just taking her in. She wasn’t familiar. And he’d have remembered.

Not firefighter. Not one of the council types either. Too practical.

New.

He didn’t say anything straight away. Just stepped into the doorway and leaned against the frame, casual as anything.

She noticed him. Didn’t look up. Just said, “If you’re here to ask when breakfast’s ready, you’ll be disappointed.”

Lando blinked. Then smiled, slow. “Right. So no full English then?”

“Not unless you brought your own pan. And cleaned it first.”

He chuckled, stepped further in. “Didn’t realise we’d hired a chef.”

“We didn’t,” she said, glancing up now. Her eyes were sharp. “I’m maintenance.”

“Maintenance?” he echoed. “You fix the boiler or the printer?”

“Neither. I answer phones, do inventory, chase you lot for forms you forget to fill out.”

“Ah,” he said, mock grin. “The real power behind the throne.”

She raised a brow. “Something like that.”

He offered a hand, out of habit. “Lando.”

She glanced at it, then shook it once, quick and professional. “I know.”

That caught him off guard. “You do?”

“You’re the one who broke the kitchen chair last week, left half a Kinder in the fridge with a post-it that said ‘mine’, and wrote your own name on the rota in capital letters. Twice.”

He blinked. Then laughed. “Alright. Bit of a fan, are you?”

“Not even slightly.”

Her tone was deadpan, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth, not quite a smile, more the memory of one.

Lando tilted his head, watching her. “Well. If you’re going to be making notes on me, at least let me buy you a coffee first.”

She didn’t roll her eyes exactly, but the look she gave him was somewhere between amused and unimpressed.

“Do you flirt with everyone this early in the morning, or am I just the lucky one?”

He grinned, crooked. “Only the ones who remember the Kinder.”

That earned him nothing but the click of a cupboard door and the soft clatter of mugs being rearranged.

Still, as he turned to leave, she said, almost offhand, “Zak wants you to do a PPE check. Form’s on your locker.”

He glanced back. “You always this charming, or just for me?”

She didn’t look up this time. Just stirred her tea and said, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But her voice had softened by a degree. And Lando, who had been through enough hell to know the difference between cold and careful, he just smiled to himself and walked away.

Lando grinned all the way down the corridor. He wasn’t sure if it was the tea fumes or the new girl’s deadpan delivery, but something about the whole exchange left him in a better mood than he’d started in.

He found Oscar in the mess room, hunched over a bowl of cereal like it was the only thing tethering him to consciousness. There were dark smudges under his eyes and a slight sway to the way he was sitting, like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks, which, to be fair, he probably hadn’t.

“Morning, sunshine,” Lando said, dropping into the chair opposite.

Oscar grunted.

“Alright, Eeyore. You look like you’ve been up all night getting emotionally waterboarded.”

“I have been up all night,” Oscar muttered, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Baby won’t settle unless she’s lying on me, and at some point I passed out with half a dummy stuck to my cheek.”

Lando winced. “Fatherhood’s so hot.”

Oscar gave him a look that could’ve curdled milk. Then went back to his cereal.

Lando leaned back in his chair. “Met the new girl yet?”

“What new girl?”

“Maintenance. Zak’s latest hire. Bit of an enigma. Possibly my soulmate.”

Oscar blinked. “You’ve known her five minutes.”

“Yeah, and I’ve grown emotionally in all of them.” He stood, gesturing with his mug. “Come on.”

Oscar stared at him, unmoving.

Lando sighed. “This is what happens when you don’t talk to adults. You forget how to do normal social things. Get up. This is your reintroduction to society.”

Oscar groaned, but stood anyway, carrying his cereal bowl with the slow resignation of a man who knew he wasn’t winning this.

Upstairs, the kitchen was still warm. A different kind of quiet now, more settled. She was sorting through a delivery box on the counter, frowning down at a set of mugs that looked suspiciously like they belonged in someone’s nan’s attic.

Lando leaned casually in the doorway, Oscar lurking just behind him.

She glanced up, caught them both staring, and narrowed her eyes. “Why am I being looked at like I’m on trial?”

Oscar, ever the diplomat, cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry just… there’s usually no women here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Right. First time seeing one?”

Oscar flushed slightly. “No. I just meant…”

“Mm.” She looked him up and down, then caught the glint of the ring on his left hand. “So it’s not your first time. That’s a relief. What’s Lando’s excuse?”

Lando, who was sipping from his mug just to appear casual, nearly choked. “I don’t need an excuse,” he said, grinning. “I’m a very supportive colleague. Just thought you two should meet. Oscar’s our resident domestic deity. Got a newborn and a soft spot for dad jokes.”

“Impressive,” she said, with a faint smile. Then to Oscar, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said, still a bit thrown. “She’s small. And loud. But I love her.”

That made her laugh, just a little. The sort of sound that caught Lando more than he’d admit. Light and fleeting, like something she didn’t let out often.

She turned back to the mugs, pulling one out with a small frown. “These are horrible.”

Oscar peered at them. “They look like they came from a charity shop in 1983.”

“They did,” she muttered, checking the box label. “Brilliant.”

Lando leaned in. “You know, we’ve got some pristine ones in the crew room. Untouched. We only use the chipped ones out of loyalty.”

She gave him a look. “You mean laziness.”

He shrugged. “Tomato, tomato.”

Oscar, sensing he was no longer needed, backed away slowly like a man escaping a wild animal encounter. “Right, I’m going to pretend I’m still on leave.”

“You’re literally in uniform,” Lando called after him.

Oscar held up his cereal bowl in vague farewell and disappeared down the hall.

That left Lando in the doorway again, her still half-focused on unpacking, but not quite not-looking at him.

He tapped the side of his mug with one finger. “So. No name badge. I’m still operating on mystery-girl settings.”

She didn’t look up. “That’s intentional.”

“Fair. Adds to the intrigue.”

“I think your definition of intrigue is ‘mild inconvenience’.”

He grinned. “Only when it comes with sarcasm and a file of health and safety violations.”

She glanced at him then, properly. The sort of glance that said she was still deciding what to make of him. Not in a rude way. Just measured.

“I’m here to work,” she said, tone light but firm. “Not get flirted with by every firefighter who forgets how to work a printer.”

Lando placed his mug down on the counter and gave her a small, mock-serious nod. “Right. I’ll keep it professional, then. Strictly toner cartridges and awkward eye contact.”

She snorted. “Please don’t make eye contact when discussing toner. That feels weirdly intimate.”

Lando laughed. “Alright. No eye contact. But I reserve the right to leave mysterious Post-it notes.”

She raised a brow. “You leave mysterious Kinders. Not the same.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Guilty.”

The radio crackled to life again in the background, some caller-in show about potholes, typically British. She turned back to the box and he lingered for a moment longer, just watching the way she worked. Efficient. Sharp. Like someone who’d been underestimated enough to turn it into armour.

Eventually, he straightened. “Well. Welcome to the circus.”

She didn’t look up. “Thanks.”

He paused just long enough to hear her say it.

Then headed back down the hall, still grinning, like he’d just been handed a puzzle he wouldn’t mind taking his time figuring out.

She’d been here a week. And no one had noticed.

Which, to be fair, was exactly how she’d planned it.

There was a certain freedom in invisibility, no questions, no expectations, just her and the never-ending list of things that needed restocking, reordering, or politely emailing the council about. The station ticked along with its own rhythm, and she slotted herself into the gaps. Fixed the printer. Made the tea. Carried on with the quiet efficiency of someone trying very hard not to be part of the story.

And then Lando had walked into the kitchen with his ridiculous grin and his even more ridiculous face, and now well.

She’d been noticed.

Not just glanced at. Not just nodded to. Noticed. Clocked. Eyed in that way she’d hoped wouldn’t happen. The way that said I see you, even if he didn’t know what he was looking at yet.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

Well. She was. She just wasn’t sure she liked how she felt about it.

She turned back to the delivery box with unnecessary focus, tugging another mug out with a bit too much force. Her knuckles grazed the edge of the cardboard. She didn’t swear, not aloud, anyway.

The thing was, she hadn’t wanted to be here. At all.

After uni, she’d done what everyone told her to, took a gap year to "find herself", which mostly involved booking flights she couldn’t afford and having mild identity crises in hostels that smelt like socks. It was meant to help. Give her time. Clarity. A sense of direction.

It gave her a sunburn, two expired travel cards, and a vague dislike of anyone who said "manifest it" unironically.

So when she landed back home with no plan and even less money, her dad had said, kindly, firmly, with that look she knew better than to argue with, “You need to face reality.”

And reality, apparently, was a job at his fire station.

Maintenance, on paper. Odd jobs. Admin. Support. Nothing official. He’d even promised, hand on heart, that no one would know they were related.

And so far, he’d kept that promise.

They barely spoke on shift. Just passing nods and the occasional muttered “well done” when she managed to fix the kitchen tap with nothing but a spoon and a suspiciously old instruction manual.

Still. It was weird. Being there. Being her there.

The station had its own language, radio codes, nicknames, shorthand she hadn’t quite cracked yet. It smelled of gear bags and burnt toast and stale deodorant. The men were mostly decent, older, tired, still caught in the glory days of jokes from 2009. Some of the younger ones looked at her like she was either an intern or a misplaced delivery.

But none of them had really looked at her. Until this morning.

She rubbed the back of her wrist absent-mindedly, eyeing the last few mugs. The sound of Lando’s voice still lingered faintly in her head, bright, teasing, too quick for her to deflect without thinking.

She didn’t want to be flirted with. She didn’t want anyone to ask her name. She didn’t want to feel warm in the face just because some firefighter with annoyingly nice forearms and a crooked smile had noticed she existed.

She wanted to do her job. Get paid. Maybe disappear again in six months.

But now…

Now she’d been noticed.

She shoved the last mug onto the shelf, shut the cupboard a bit too firmly, and stood there for a second, palms flat on the counter.

Maybe he’d forget about her. Maybe it was just a one-off.

She opened her eyes and sighed.

It definitely wasn’t.

By midday, the station had settled into that familiar low hum, not quite quiet, but not buzzing either. She liked it best like this. Paperwork stacked into vaguely sensible piles, someone’s half-finished toast abandoned on a plate in the kitchen, and a dog-eared training manual lying face down on the sofa like it had given up on life.

She moved through the building with her usual rhythm, checked the rota board, confirmed the equipment delivery (which was, as always, three helmets short and labelled for a completely different station), replaced the loo roll in the women's locker room, even though she was still the only person using it.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was something. And she was good at it, the small, invisible things that made everything else tick along.

Around half three, she swung by her dad’s office.

The door was slightly ajar, as always, and the radio on his desk was turned low, some footie commentary murmuring away like background weather. He was hunched over a spreadsheet, glasses low on his nose, biro in mouth.

She knocked gently on the doorframe. “Delivery update. You’re not getting your flash hoods until Friday. And someone in logistics thinks we’re in Milton Keynes.”

Without looking up, he said, “Alright, princess.”

She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “No.”

He looked up, blinked. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Yeah, well. Break it.”

He smiled, a little sheepish, a little smug. “Noted.”

She stepped inside, resting a hip against the edge of his desk. “Everything alright?”

He sighed. “Fine, mostly. Andrea’s chasing up the budget report. Something about overspending on vehicle maintenance.”

“Because the bloody ladder mechanism got stuck again and someone tried to fix it with WD-40 and optimism.”

He snorted. “God, you sound like me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say that like it’s a compliment.”

“Didn’t realise it wasn’t.”

She smirked despite herself, then nodded toward the open personnel files beside him. “Anyone actually fill out their updated medical forms?”

“Two out of fifteen.”

She made a noise of vague despair. “And you wonder why I threaten them with brightly coloured spreadsheets.”

He chuckled. “You’re good at this, you know.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I want to be here.”

His expression shifted, just slightly. “I know.”

There was a pause. Not awkward, just full of things they weren’t going to say.

Eventually she pushed off from the desk and nodded toward the hallway. “Alright. I’ve got to go and chase up the missing radio order.”

“Thanks, love.”

She froze. Gave him a very pointed look over her shoulder.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

She muttered something under her breath and stepped out into the corridor.

Only to walk straight into Lando.

He was leaning against the wall outside, arms folded, one foot propped up behind him like he’d been there long enough to get comfortable. He had that look on his face, the one people got when they knew something they shouldn’t.

“Princess, huh?”

Her whole body stilled. “No.”

He raised an eyebrow, far too pleased with himself. “Didn’t peg you for the royal sort.”

“Piss off.”

He stepped beside her, falling into step as she marched back down the corridor. “Do we curtsy now? Or is it more of a wave-from-the-balcony vibe?”

She didn’t look at him. “If you start humming God Save the King I will staple your rota to your forehead.”

Lando grinned. “Ooh, feisty. Bit of a Lady Catherine de Bourgh situation.”

She glared sideways at him. “You read Pride and Prejudice?”

“No. But I saw the film. The one with the pond scene.”

“Of course you did.”

They turned a corner. He was still going. “Alright, what about Duchess? Your Royal Highness? Madam?”

“You sound like you’re ordering off a weird menu.”

“Alright, alright. Something simpler. Love?”

“No.”

“Darling?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Babe?”

She stopped walking and gave him a look so withering it could’ve stripped paint.

He held his hands up. “Right, not babe. Got it. Bit strong.”

“Bit tragic.”

He smirked. “Fine. We’ll keep it simple. How about… Trouble?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve known me less than a month.”

“Exactly. And look how much damage you’ve done already.”

She shook her head and started walking again, refusing to let him see the way her mouth wanted to twitch.

He kept pace beside her, not saying anything now. Just humming. Badly.

Probably God Save the King.

She sighed.

This was going to be a long placement.

By the end of her second week at the station, she could walk the corridors without needing to look where she was going.

There was a comfort in routine, not the dramatic sort, not anything life-affirming, just the steady hum of predictability. Tom still started every morning with a groan and a tea he never finished. Andrea had taken to recounting the same three stories about her early days on shift, adding a new detail each time, like folklore. The back door stuck. The toaster was temperamental. The station dog, who technically didn’t exist, but wandered in most afternoons, had taken a liking to her boots.

She moved quietly through the days, doing her job well enough to be useful, not so well that anyone got ideas. Printouts, forms, stock requests, phone calls. The small things no one else remembered to do, until they weren’t done.

She liked being overlooked. There was peace in it.

Or there had been, until Lando started paying attention.

It began on Monday, in the kitchen, where he appeared beside her while she was fixing the drawer runners. He held out a custard cream like it was a rare offering.

“I’m not bribable,” she said, not looking up.

“Not even for the superior biscuit?”

She glanced at him, expression flat. “That’s not the superior biscuit. That’s the beige one people pretend to like.”

He looked scandalised. She ignored the smile curling behind his scowl.

By Tuesday, she’d learned to brace herself.

Oscar passed her in the hallway holding what looked like the contents of a nursery in both hands, a car seat, a onesie, a muslin cloth draped over his shoulder like a war flag.

“Do you know how babies’ arms work?” he asked, bleary-eyed.

She blinked. “Not really?”

He nodded. “Didn’t think so. They’re too bendy.” Then wandered off in the direction of the kit room, muttering something about elasticated nightmares.

On Wednesday, Lando caught her crouched under the printer with her hand up to the wrist in toner powder.

“You always fix everything?” he asked.

She didn’t look at him. “Someone has to.”

There was a pause.

“You good at fixing people too?”

She did look up, then. Not long, just enough to catch something unfamiliar in his expression, something quieter, more honest than she’d expected.

“People are messier,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah. We are.”

He left her to the toner after that.

Thursday brought Oscar again, sat on the sofa in the mess room staring into a cup of tea like it wasn’t the correct colour.

“You alright?” she asked.

“I cried at a John Lewis advert this morning,” he said. “The penguin one. So lonely.”

She made him another tea, stronger this time, and sat beside him until he stopped sighing.

On Friday, she caught Lando standing in front of the noticeboard, staring at a tacked-up photo someone had left, a family barbeque, blurry and sunlit. His arms were folded, jaw tight. Still.

She almost said something. Almost.

But then he turned, saw her watching, and grinned like it had never happened.

Later, he called her handwriting weirdly attractive. She called him a walking HR risk. But the moment had stayed.

By Saturday, things had shifted.

She found a Post-it on the coffee tin.

Superior biscuit rankings:

Chocolate Hobnob

Bourbons

Rich Tea (if dunked properly)

Custard Creams (wrongly slandered)

Underneath, a line in smaller script: This list is legally binding. Debate at your own peril. — L.

She rolled her eyes. Smirked. Reached for a pen.

Chocolate Digestives or we riot.

She didn’t sign it, but she knew he’d know.

On Sunday, Oscar appeared again, looking vaguely haunted.

“Why are you here?” she asked, eyeing the yoghurt on his jumper.

“I just needed to be near adults,” he said, deadpan. “I had a forty-minute conversation with a sock this morning.”

She made him coffee. He thanked her like she’d just administered CPR.

And just like that, another week passed.

She still didn’t have a nameplate on her door. Still hadn’t told anyone her dad ran the place. But the station had begun to feel less unfamiliar. Not home, not exactly. But somewhere in the region.

And Lando hadn’t stopped.

Still teased. Still turned up at inconvenient moments. Still leaned into conversations with that smirk like he was trying to distract her from something neither of them were ready to say.

But every so often, she caught him between expressions. When he thought no one was watching. And that was when she saw it, the quiet edge beneath the grin, the pause that lasted half a second too long.

She didn’t know what it meant yet.

Didn’t know if she wanted to.

But she’d noticed.

And it was becoming harder not to look.

It was nearly midnight by the time she reached the station. She hadn’t meant to come back but somewhere around mile three of a run she didn’t particularly want to be on, she’d realised she’d left her charger under the printer desk. Again.

The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that only settled after eleven, not empty, just still. Streetlights hummed above. The air smelled faintly like takeaway and damp concrete.

She let herself in through the back door, not expecting anyone to be around.

The station at night was different. Softer. The fluorescent glare had given way to low amber bulbs in the corridors. The mess room telly was muted, casting a flickering glow over abandoned mugs and someone’s half-finished Sudoku. No shouting. No alarms. Just the odd creak of old floorboards and the distant hum of the boiler cupboard.

She padded towards the office, tugging her hoodie down over her hands. Her legs ached pleasantly, the ache that came from moving just to stop your brain spinning.

She was halfway through reaching under the desk when she heard it, the clink of a spoon against a mug, followed by a low, familiar voice.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the mystery admin gremlin.”

She looked up.

Lando was in the kitchen, sleeves of his fleece rolled to the elbows, tea in hand, leaning against the counter like he lived there. His hair was damp at the ends, like he’d just come back from a call and jumped through a quick shower. There was a streak of something, ash, maybe, along the hem of his shirt. He looked comfortable. Tired in a way that suited him.

“I’m not a gremlin,” she said, standing upright, her hoodie sticking slightly to her arms with sweat. “I came to get my charger.”

“Midnight charger rescue mission?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Very high stakes.”

“Not all of us have three spare at home.”

He took a sip of his tea. “And here I was thinking you just couldn’t stay away.”

She gave him a look.

He grinned.

She sighed and walked past him into the kitchen, opening the cupboard mostly to avoid his face. “Aren’t you on night shift?”

“Mm. Just me, for now. Everyone else is either asleep or pretending to be.”

She nodded, pulling a glass down from the shelf.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here at this hour,” he added, watching her with quiet curiosity. “Out for a jog?”

“Run,” she corrected. “Jogging implies I enjoyed it.”

He smiled around his mug. “You always run late at night?”

“Helps clear my head.”

He nodded, slowly, like he understood.

She didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to.

There was a beat of silence. Not awkward, just full.

She poured herself some water from the tap, the metal clinking gently as she set the glass down.

“You alright?” he asked, softer now.

She hesitated. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”

He didn’t push. Just sipped his tea again, eyes not quite meeting hers.

“You always here this late?” she asked, turning the question back on him.

“Not always. Just got back from a call.” He shrugged. “Small fire. Washing machine went rogue.”

She smirked faintly. “Those bloody washing machines. Menace to society.”

He laughed quietly. “Tell me about it. Once helped my friend Max who got his cat stuck in a washing machine.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He gave a small shake of his head. “Don’t ask.”

They stood there for a moment, the quiet settling between them like an old jumper. Comfortable. A little frayed.

She leaned back against the counter. “Always the joker when you’re tired, huh?”

“I always joke,” he said simply. Then added, “Tired just makes it more dangerous.”

She looked at him then, really looked. The easy grin, the slouched shoulders, the way his fingers wrapped around the mug like he didn’t quite trust his hands to be still otherwise.

And there it was again. That flicker. That pause, right before he spoke. Like something inside him was louder than the words he let out.

“You alright?” she asked, the question returned, quieter this time.

He looked up, surprised.

“Yeah,” he said after a second. “Just been a long shift. You know how it is.”

She nodded, but didn’t move.

He tapped the rim of his mug once, twice, then glanced over. “You ever feel like you’re running just to stop your head catching up with you?”

She looked at him. “Yeah.”

His eyes softened a fraction. “Yeah. Me too.”

That was all. Nothing more than that. But it sat between them, heavier than silence.

She finished her water, set the glass down gently.

“Well,” she said, already moving toward the door, “I’ve got my charger now. Gremlin duties complete.”

He stepped aside, holding the door open like he’d done it a hundred times.

“Night, princess.”

She paused mid-step. Turned slowly. “Seriously?”

He shrugged. “What was it? Force of habit.”

“Fuck off.”

He grinned. “Sleep well, your majesty.”

She rolled her eyes and walked off, hoodie sleeves shoved down to her knuckles, face warm in a way she refused to examine.

Behind her, the door creaked shut. The corridor hummed.

And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be invisible after all.

Lando waited until he heard the back door click shut before moving.

The corridor hummed faintly behind him, that low, electric buzz that stations all seemed to have at night, like the walls were holding their breath.

Lando set his mug down in the sink, rinsed it, left it to dry on the draining board with the others that no one ever put away. His hands were still damp when he pressed the button for the gym lights.

They flickered once. Came on low.

It wasn’t much of a gym, just an old weight bench, a knackered treadmill, and a punching bag that swayed too much when the heating kicked in. But it did the job. Kept the edges off. Let him move until his brain shut up.

He slipped off his fleece, rolled his sleeves to the elbows, and started with push-ups. Nothing fancy. Just movement. Repetition.

Down. Breathe. Up.

Again.

The floor was cold beneath his palms. The air tasted faintly of rubber matting and leftover adrenaline.

He kept going.

Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five.

It wasn’t about numbers. Wasn’t about anything, really, just the act of it. The quiet. The ache. The way it drowned everything else out.

When his shoulders started to burn, he switched. Pull-ups, then bag work. Let his knuckles sting. Let the punchbag sway too far and hit him back. Maybe he deserved it.

After a while, he didn’t count.

He stopped when his arms wouldn’t quite lift the way he asked them to.

The sweat cooled quick. It always did in here. He wiped his face on the bottom of his T-shirt and didn’t bother changing. Just grabbed his fleece, still warm from before, and walked back into the corridor like nothing had happened.

Except something had.

It always did, when she was around.

He didn’t know what it was, exactly. She was sharp, sure. Funny, in that dry, blink-and-you-miss-it kind of way. But it wasn’t just that.

It was how she looked at him sometimes. Like she hadn’t decided yet if she trusted him. Like she could see the cracks before he even made them obvious.

And that scared the hell out of him.

He wandered back into the mess room, lights still low. The telly was off now. Someone had left an empty tea bag on the side, like a promise they’d come back and clean it up later. They wouldn’t.

He sat for a minute. Let the quiet settle. Tried to ignore the way his chest still hadn’t caught up with his breath.

Then he stood. Walked to the noticeboard.

The photo was still there.

It always surprised him how no one seemed to mention it. Like it had just become part of the wall, pinned between rotas and fire safety posters and that one printout about mental health support that no one had taken seriously since 2014.

It was a family photo. Slightly curled at the corners. Dad, mum, two boys, one lanky, older, arms folded like he thought he was hard. The other younger, round-cheeked, grinning with the sort of abandon you only ever saw in children.

He didn’t know who they were. Had never asked. Probably someone’s cousin’s cousin, a story passed along the chain and forgotten.

But every time he looked at it, his stomach twisted.

Tonight, it didn’t twist. Tonight, it dropped.

He stared at it for too long. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

Just breathed.

And there it was, the flicker. The corner of memory he spent every day trying not to walk past. The echo of a voice. A smell he couldn’t quite name.

He reached out.

Fingers didn’t touch the photo. Just hovered.

Then the alarm went.

That shrill, familiar sound that sliced through everything.

Lando flinched.

He grabbed his fleece, shrugged it on, and ran.

No time to think.

Just the job.

Just keep moving.

It was Monday, which meant the station was technically quieter, fewer calls, fewer people, fewer distractions. But admin didn’t stop just, it kept coming, and her dad had casually dropped a teetering stack of paperwork on her desk that morning with a cheerful, “No rush, but yesterday.”

So she’d parked herself in the corner office, the one with the drafty window and the chair that wheezed when you leaned too far back, and resigned herself to a day of forms, phone calls, and sighing.

She was halfway through reformatting a log sheet when she heard the unmistakable squeak of a wheeled chair being dragged down the corridor.

Not rolled.

Dragged.

She didn’t even look up. “If you break that, you’re paying for it.”

The noise stopped in the doorway.

“I’ll have you know this is a tactical relocation,” came Lando’s voice, far too pleased with himself.

She looked up, unimpressed. He stood there with a chair from the meeting room, one hand still gripping the backrest like he might ride it into battle.

“You’re not on shift,” she said.

He shrugged. “Franco’s got his girlfriend round and Isack’s studying for some terrifying anatomy thing. He offered to show me the flashcards. I ran.”

“And you thought this was the better option?”

He rolled the chair in beside her desk, flopped into it like a bored teenager, and stretched his legs out with a dramatic sigh. “I figured you missed me.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response. Just kept typing.

He watched her for a bit, not in a creepy way, just with the sort of idle curiosity that came from having nothing else to do and nowhere else to be.

“So,” he said eventually, “what’s the most thrilling form on your desk today?”

“Incident review,” she said. “From two weeks ago.”

“Scandalous.”

“I can feel your sarcasm from here.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, spinning slowly in the chair, “this room could use a bit more sparkle.”

She side-eyed him. “You’re not sparkle. You’re disruption.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Wasn’t one.”

But she didn’t tell him to leave. And he didn’t move.

She kept working, and he kept gently spinning in that way people do when they’re fighting the urge to fidget. After a while, she slid a stack of blank forms across the desk.

“If you’re going to loiter, make yourself useful.”

He blinked at them. “Am I being put to work?”

“You’re here. You’re breathing. That’s enough for me.”

He picked one up and held it like it might bite. “You know this is against the Geneva Convention.”

“Welcome to admin,” she said, dry.

They fell into an odd rhythm. She typed, answered the occasional radio call, scribbled notes. He asked questions with the sincerity of someone who had never willingly filled out a form in his life.

Somewhere around the fourth page, she glanced over at him properly. Really looked.

He was slouched, legs long in front of him, head tilted back just slightly as he read a line for the third time. There were faint shadows under his eye, darker than usual. His jaw was less tight, somehow, like he’d run out of energy to hold it.

“You look like you haven’t slept in ages,” she said, casually.

He looked up. Smirked. “I’m good.”

She frowned.

He looked away, back at the form, pen twirling between his fingers.

The thing was, he said it like a reflex. Not like it was true.

She didn’t press. Just went back to her own work.

Time slipped on, slow and quiet, the clock ticking somewhere behind them. The room was warm, soft with sunlight filtering through the blinds.

At some point, she reached for the stapler. When she glanced up again, he’d gone still.

Proper still.

Head tilted against the back of the chair, mouth slightly open, pen still in his hand, but asleep.

Deep, unbothered sleep.

She stared at him for a moment, unsure whether to be annoyed or concerned.

Then she sighed. Rolled her chair back. Opened the drawer, pulled out an old fleece someone had left behind, and draped it gently across his chest.

He didn’t stir.

“Idiot,” she muttered.

But she didn’t wake him.

Not yet.

Hours went by and he didn’t move once.

She checked twice, just to be sure, once by glancing over the top of her monitor, and again by quietly sliding her chair back and standing, careful not to disturb the creaky floorboard by the heater.

Still out cold. Head tilted slightly to one side now, jaw slack with sleep, hand resting lightly on the folder he hadn’t managed to finish.

She left it there.

It was the most still she’d seen him since arriving at the station. No smart remarks. No grin. Just quiet.

She sat back down and tried to work. Tried being the operative word.

Ten minutes later, the corridor outside creaked under the weight of heavier boots, and then—

“Ah, just the person I’m looking for.”

Max’s voice, authoritative and a bit too loud. She’d been introduced to him last week when he came back after a garage fire.

She stood quickly, holding a finger to her lips. “Shh. Please.”

Max blinked. Oscar, just behind him, squinted into the room.

Then both of them spotted Lando.

“Oh,” Max said, voice dropping to a whisper. “Is he asleep?”

She nodded. “He came in a couple of hours ago. Wasn’t on shift, just, turned up. Said he was bored.”

Oscar sighed. “Sounds about right.”

Max stepped a little closer, peering at Lando like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or take a photo.

“He looks twelve like that,” he said.

“He looks like he hasn’t slept properly in days,” she said quietly. “Just let him be.”

Oscar gave her a look. Not mocking. Just knowing.

Max nodded, stepping back again. “Right. I’ll be quick. I only needed him to sign off on a joint report from that garage fire. Insurance flagged something weird. It’s just a formality.”

“I’ll sort it,” she said without hesitation. “Leave it with me.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll get it signed and sent over first thing.”

Oscar was still watching her. She didn’t meet his gaze.

Max handed over the folder, gave her a grateful nod, and turned to go.

Oscar lingered for half a second.

“He probably doesn’t sleep, otherwise,” he said, soft.

Then he followed Max down the hall.

She stood there for a long moment after they’d gone.

Then turned back to Lando, still dead to the world in that chair that couldn’t have been comfortable, and whispered, “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

But she didn’t wake him.

Instead, she pulled out a new form, clicked her pen, and quietly got to work.

Lando didn’t talk about it.

Didn’t mention the fact he’d fallen asleep mid-sentence, slumped in a borrowed chair in the corner of her office like it was the most natural thing in the world. Didn’t apologise. Didn’t make a joke about it. Just vanished.

She’d only stepped out for five minutes, a quick detour to her dad’s office to hand over a supply order and get cornered into a discussion about rota gaps.

When she came back, he was gone.

The chair had been returned to the meeting room. The admin folder he’d been working on was neatly stacked, signed and dated. Her pen capped. The desk tidied.

And on top, stuck at a slight angle, was a yellow Post-it note in familiar handwriting:

might steal your job — L

She smiled, helplessly. Rolled her eyes. Folded the note in half and slipped it into her notebook like it didn’t mean anything.

She’d just sat down again when Oscar appeared in the doorway, knocking gently against the frame like he wasn’t sure if she was mid-email or mid-breakdown.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

She looked up. “I haven’t broken anything. Yet.”

“Not here to scold. For once.”

He stepped inside, holding a bright pink envelope that had clearly been carried by someone under the age of ten, it was covered in butterfly stickers and glittery stars, and her name was written on the front in purple gel pen, all curls and extra hearts all over the place.

She blinked. “Should I be worried?”

Oscar grinned. “Aurelia’s birthday party. This weekend.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to sound normal. “She’s turning…?”

“Nine,” he said. “Going on nineteen.”

She smiled. “Big deal, then.”

“Massive. There will be pizza, games, some kind of pinterest inspired cake situation I don’t fully understand. She made invitations herself. You’re on the guest list.”

He handed it over.

She took it carefully, trying not to dislodge the glitter.

Inside was a folded card covered in felt-tip doodles, unicorns, a suspiciously buff firefighter, and a massive ‘YOU’RE INVITED’ across the top. Inside, written in big letters with no regard for spacing:

dear fire girl,pls come to my birthday on saturday. there will be cake and silly games and my stepdad said you’re cool even tho you look serious all the time.also mum says you have very nice hair.love,Aurelia :)

She stared at it for a second, something warm catching in her throat.

“I’m not fire crew,” she said, not really to him. “I just do paperwork.”

Oscar shrugged. “You’re here. That’s enough.”

There was something about the way he said it, like it was obvious. Like she didn’t need to prove anything.

“I’m not trying to crash anything,” she added quickly. “I know it’s a family thing.”

“And you’re part of that,” he said, simple as anything. “Like it or not.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak straight away. Just nodded, pressing her thumb against the edge of the envelope to keep her hands busy.

Oscar gave her a soft smile. “Don’t overthink it. Just show up. Eat some cake. Let a small child judge your dancing.”

“Terrifying,” she muttered.

“Welcome to the family.”

And with that, he wandered off down the corridor, humming something that might have been the Cha Cha Slide.

She sat there a little longer, staring at the card, glitter catching the light like it had something to prove.

Maybe this place was becoming something after all.

On Sunday, she’d spent far too long standing in front of her wardrobe.

It was just a kids’ birthday party. Not a job interview. Not a first date. Not anything that required this level of internal debate. And yet there she was, trying on her fourth outfit and wondering if she looked like she was trying too hard.

Eventually, she landed on something simple: a pair of high-waisted jeans, a cropped top that was just on the right side of casual, and an oversized cardigan that made her feel less exposed. Soft trainers instead of boots. A touch of lip balm. Nothing dramatic.

Still, when she looked in the mirror, she barely recognised herself. No station polo. No cargo trousers. No practical ponytail scraped back like she was heading into battle.

Just her.

She carried the small gift bag in both hands as she walked up the stairs to Oscar’s apartment. She could already hear the laughter from inside, music playing low, the sound of kids squealing in delight, someone shouting over everyone else. Warmth spilled out through the letterbox.

She paused at the door.

And stood there.

She wasn’t sure why. She’d been invited. Welcomed, even. But something about the sound of everyone already inside, the ease, the familiarity, made her hesitate.

She was the outsider, after all. The one with the clipboard. The one who wasn’t quite in the group, even if she was starting to circle the edges of it.

She was just reaching for the doorbell when a voice behind her said, “You planning on standing there all day, or?”

She turned.

Lando stood a few feet away, arms full of gift bags, three plastic ones stuffed with boxes, tissue paper, and what looked suspiciously like a giant inflatable unicorn. He was in jeans and a black hoodie, hair still slightly damp like he’d only just got out the shower. He looked stupidly relaxed.

“You’re late,” she said, folding her arms.

He grinned. “Fashionably. Also, I had to stop at three different shops because apparently nine year olds don’t like books anymore unless they come with glitter slime.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of presents.”

“Got to maintain my title as favourite uncle, haven’t I?”

She smirked but didn’t reply.

He shifted the bags in his arms and looked at her properly then, the way her cardigan sleeves covered her hands, the way she was still angled slightly away from the door.

“You alright?” he asked, softer now.

She hesitated. Then nodded, once. “Just forgot how loud kids can be.”

He didn’t push. Just smiled, easy and warm.

“Well, lucky for you, I brought reinforcements.” He nodded toward one of the bags. “One of these is a karaoke microphone. Battery operated. No volume control. We’ll have them begging for bedtime by six.”

She laughed, quietly, but genuinely.

Then he noticed the gift bag in her hand. “Ooh. You got her something?”

“It’s just a little art kit,” she said, suddenly self-conscious. “Some pastels. Sketchbook. I didn’t want to turn up empty-handed.”

He tilted his head. “You softie.”

“I’m not,” she muttered.

“She’s gonna love it,” he said, firmly. “She’s been drawing all over the walls at home. Oscar’s nearly wept.”

She smiled again. “You’re spoiling her.”

“Obviously,” he said. “How else am I supposed to win her eternal loyalty?”

“Bit competitive, aren’t you?”

“I don’t play to lose.”

He winked, then shifted the bags again and nudged the door open with his hip. “Come on, let’s make an entrance.”

They stepped inside together.

Warmth hit her like a wave, fairy lights strung up around the bannisters, balloons in chaotic clumps, the smell of party food and cake and sugar. Someone had put on a kids’ playlist. The room was full of colour and laughter and far too much glitter.

“Uncle LanLan!”

Aurelia came barrelling down the hallway like a tiny whirlwind, tutu bouncing, face painted with lopsided butterflies. She launched herself at Lando with absolutely no hesitation.

He caught her with ease, bags dropped in a heap at his feet, arms lifting her like she weighed nothing.

“Hey, monster,” he said, grinning up at her. “Happy birthday!”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re late!”

“I brought offerings.”

“Are they sparkly?”

“The sparkliest.”

She squealed and clung tighter.

And she just stood there, watching.

Something about it, the way Lando held her, the way he laughed without holding back, the way Aurelia fit so perfectly against his shoulder, it pulled something strange and deep in her chest.

He was so good with her.

Natural. Effortless. Kind in a way that didn’t ask to be noticed.

He glanced sideways then, catching her watching, and gave her a small smile.

She looked away, suddenly shy.

Maybe he wasn’t all jokes after all.

The party unfolded in a swirl of noise and colour.

Aurelia ruled the lounge like a glitter covered queen, directing games with the authority of a small dictator and demanding cake before the candles were even lit. Oscar played referee with the vague desperation of a man outnumbered, while his wife laughed from the kitchen doorway, half-horrified, half-proud.

She kept mostly to the edges, helping carry plates, passing around napkins, ducking flying balloons. Not invisible, exactly. Just quietly present.

Then came gift time.

Aurelia sat cross legged in the middle of the floor, hair wild and face flushed with sugar, tearing into bags like her life depended on it. Lando sat beside her, grinning as she pulled out gift after gift with increasingly dramatic reactions.

When she got to her bag, the one with the pastels and sketchbook, she paused. Slowed.

Lifted the tissue paper carefully.

And then beamed.

“OH,” she said loudly, holding the sketchbook aloft like it was a trophy. “THIS IS COOL. LOOK AT ALL THE COLOURS.”

She turned, without hesitation, and flung her arms around her.

For a second, she froze, not expecting it. Then returned the hug, awkward but warm.

Oscar celebrated from the kitchen. “We’re never going to have a clean wall again.”

His wife laughed. “Just let her draw on the windows this time.”

“I like the windows.”

“Then maybe don’t have a creative daughter.”

Aurelia was already flipping through the sketchbook, muttering about what to draw first.

Lando stood, brushing glitter off his jeans. “I’ll take it all up to your room,” he offered, scooping up the rest of her opened presents. “Keep the chaos contained.”

“Don’t touch the purple slime,” Aurelia warned. “It’s cursed.”

“Noted.”

He disappeared up the stairs with a wink in her direction, arms full.

The party swelled again, music, cake, someone trying to teach a dance move that looked vaguely illegal. She lost track of time for a bit, swept into the strange domestic warmth of it all.

But twenty minutes passed. Then thirty.

And Lando didn’t come back.

She tried not to overthink it. Maybe he’d been cornered by a child with a puzzle. Maybe he was helping clean up. But then what if he wasn’t.

She slipped away from the noise, up the stairs, quiet.

Aurelia’s room was at the end of the hall. Door ajar.

She pushed it gently open.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, still and upright, staring at the chair in the corner.

Aurelia’s school uniform was draped over it, blazer, shirt, tights folded on the seat. Nothing dramatic. Just a chair with clothes. Ordinary.

But he was frozen.

Not in a relaxed sort of way. In a locked sort of way. Shoulders tight. Breathing shallow.

She stepped in, careful not to startle him.

Then, slowly, lowered herself beside him, not too close. Just enough to be felt. Her hand came to rest lightly on his thigh, not firm, not pressing. Just there.

The reaction was instant.

He flinched, grabbed her wrist, not hard, not mean. Just automatic.

His eyes snapped to hers, wide. Then dropped to her hand. Realisation hit.

He let go immediately.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Sorry. I—”

“It’s okay,” she said quietly.

He ran a hand over his face, looked away.

“I didn’t mean to—” He shook his head. “I’m usually better than this.”

She let the silence breathe. Let him breathe.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He hesitated.

Then stood.

“I think I’m gonna head out.”

She didn’t try to stop him. Just watched him walk to the doorway, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, like he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with himself.

As he reached for the door, she said, “Wanna go get ice cream?”

He turned.

She shrugged, casual. “I’m craving gelato. Figured you looked like someone who doesn’t know how to say no to pistachio.”

He stared at her, like he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.

Then his mouth twitched, just a little.

And he said, “Yeah. Actually. Yeah, alright.”

They made their way downstairs together, the party still in full swing. Someone had started a conga line. The cake had reached its messy, dismantled stage. Aurelia was attempting to teach Andrea how to floss and was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

She hovered in the doorway, unsure how to make an exit without interrupting.

Lando didn’t seem to have that issue.

He clapped Oscar gently on the shoulder. “We’re off.”

Oscar turned, eyebrows raised. “Both of you?”

“Giving her a lift,” Lando said smoothly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Oscar looked between them, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Something almost knowing.

“Right,” he said, nodding slowly. “Well. Drive safe.”

She offered a little wave to Aurelia, who was too busy pelting someone with wrapping paper to notice. Oscar’s wife mouthed thanks for coming, and she mouthed thanks for the invite back.

And then they were outside.

The air was cooler than she expected, the sort of late sprint evening that carried the smell of grass and someone else’s barbecue. Streetlights blinked on above them.

They walked in comfortable silence for a bit, side by side, the kind that didn’t need filling.

Then Lando jerked his head toward the kerb. “That one’s mine.”

She looked.

A black Mercedes, quietly sleek, parked under a tree. Her eyebrows shot up.

“You drive that?!”

He shrugged. “Prefer to walk.”

She gave him a look.

He grinned. “Swear. It was my sister’s old one. I kept it after she said she needed a family car but couldn’t be bothered to sell it. Everyone in my flat’s insured on it now. Isack uses it more than me. Says the bus gives him migraines, but I think he’s trying to impress girls.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m basically the custodian of luxury transport for stressed out medical students and over committed paramedics.”

She laughed.

He opened the passenger door for her with a slight bow, which she ignore, but stepped in anyway, frowning when she heard the word “princess” slip from his lips.

Inside, it smelt like lemon air refresher and whatever shampoo Lando used.

They drove without music.

When they pulled up outside the gelato shop, she nudged him gently with her elbow. “You going to order something ridiculous?"

“I’m a purist,” he said, feigning offence. “Chocolate and hazelnut. Two scoops. Waffle cone. No frills.”

“Liar.”

He grinned, pulling out his card from his wallet, before she could even open her mouth to argue, he gave her a look that silenced her as she plucked the card from his fingers.

She returned a few minutes later with her own ice cream in one hand, card in between her lips.

He started the engine as she looked over, “Let’s go to the park.”

His nose scrunched. “No.”

“Oh,” she said quickly, covering. “Alright. Sorry I just thought—”

He nodded to the dashboard. “Let’s sit in the car.”

She blinked.

He added quieter, “It’s warm. And I don’t really do parks after dark.”

She didn’t ask why.

Didn’t need to.

“Okay,” she said, nodding.

And so they stayed, engine off, parked on a quiet road under the amber streetlight, two people sitting in a luxury car with melting gelato and too much unspoken between them.

The gelato was starting to melt, running slowly down the side of her cup. She let it. Neither of them seemed in a rush.

They sat in companionable silence, the soft hum of a late evening pressing gently against the windows. The street was quiet, one of those sleepy little residential corners where everything felt paused.

She glanced over at him.

He was leaning back in his seat, one hand curled around the steering wheel even though they weren’t going anywhere. His other rested on his leg, thumb idly brushing back and forth.

His cone was untouched in the cup holder.

She didn’t say anything. Just waited.

And eventually, he spoke.

“That room,” he said quietly. “The chair.”

She looked at him properly now.

“I know it was nothing,” he went on. “Just clothes. Just… normal. But it looked exactly like—” He stopped. Swallowed. “It looked exactly like how my brother’s uniform was, the night he died.”

She didn’t move. Just listened.

“I was eight. He was fifteen. We shared a room. He was, he was everything. You know? Tall, loud, never took anything seriously. Used to wind me up with something rotten. But he always made sure I had the warm side of the blanket. Always said he’d look out for me.”

Lando stared out of the windscreen.

“There was a fire. At home. Faulty plug socket. My mum had been nagging about it for weeks. I didn’t wake up properly until there was shouting. Smoke everywhere. I got out.”

He paused again. His voice was low, steady, but every word felt carved.

“He didn’t.”

Her breath caught.

“I don’t know if he was looking for me, or if he’d already passed out. I don’t know. I just remember standing on the pavement, watching the house go. And waiting for him to come out.”

He blinked, hard.

“And he didn’t.”

She reached for him, but he kept going.

“My parents” He exhaled. “They never forgave me. Said I should’ve woken him. Said I should’ve done something. I was eight.”

She felt her stomach twist.

“After that, it was just cold. Silent. I got blamed for everything. Started staying with my friends. Skipped school. Didn’t talk about it. Not once. Not for years. Parents didn't care where I was."

He looked at her now. Eyes bright, jaw tight.

“That’s why I froze. In Aurelia’s room. It was just a stupid chair. But for a second it felt like I was there again.”

She opened her mouth, but he held a hand up gently.

“I want to tell you,” he said. “Not because I want pity. Just because I trust you.”

The words landed like a stone in her chest.

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” he added, quieter still. “Like, properly told. Not in bits. Not like a joke.”

She didn’t know what to say.

So she put down her cup, reached awkwardly across the centre console, and gave him the most ridiculous, bent-arm, middle-seat hug in history.

His body tensed at first, surprised, then relaxed into it.

He chuckled against her shoulder. “This is the least ergonomic hug I’ve ever experienced.”

She huffed a laugh, face half in his hoodie. “Don’t make it weird.”

“You made it weird.”

She pulled back slightly but didn’t move far. Their faces were still close, breath mingling in the warm car.

There was a moment. Soft and still and entirely theirs.

She didn’t say I’m sorry. Didn’t say that’s awful or you’re so strong or anything else that people say when they don’t know what to say.

Instead, she whispered, “Thanks for telling me.”

And that was enough.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, limbs tangled awkwardly across the centre console, faces close, the air warm with words not spoken.

Eventually, she eased back into her seat, reaching for her rapidly-melting gelato. “We should eat this before it becomes soup.”

Lando hummed in agreement and started on his own cone, finally. He took one bite and immediately winced.

“Brain freeze,” he muttered, clutching his forehead.

She snorted. “Serves you right for inhaling it.”

“I panicked,” he said. “Felt like the right thing to do in the moment.”

“Very brave of you.”

“Thank you. I’ll be expecting a medal in the post.”

She rolled her eyes and took another spoonful. “You know, for someone who had an emotional breakthrough five minutes ago, you’re surprisingly annoying.”

He grinned. “Can’t have you getting too used to me being serious.”

There was a beat of quiet again, but this time it felt easier. Lighter.

She glanced sideways at him, fiddling with her spoon. “You don’t have to answer this,” she said, softly. “But what brought you to the fire service?”

He didn’t look surprised. Just thoughtful.

Then he leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the roof of the car.

“I think I thought if I became a firefighter, if I saved enough people, did enough good, maybe I could balance it out.” He glanced at her. “Make up for losing my brother. Like I owed the world a life.”

She didn’t say anything. Just let it land.

“I know it doesn’t work like that,” he added. “But that’s what it felt like. Like maybe if I pulled enough people out of fires, it’d stop mattering so much that I didn’t pull him out.”

Her chest ached for him.

He took a slow breath. “I still can’t go into kids’ bedrooms, during house fires. Not if I see the uniform on the chair. Doesn’t even have to be the same colour. I just freeze.”

His voice faltered slightly.

“And the thing is, I’d hate, really hate, to ever be the reason someone didn’t make it. Because my stupid brain decided it was time for a panic.”

It wasn’t self-pitying. Just honest. Raw in that quiet way grief gets, when it’s lived inside you long enough to soften its edges.

She reached over, without thinking too hard, and ran her fingers lightly through his hair, ruffling it with a mixture of fondness and frustration.

He blinked. “Did you just mum me?”

She smirked. “You may be an idiot, but not stupid.”

“High praise.”

“Although,” she added, straightening up, “I still don’t agree with your biscuit ranking.”

“Ah. And there it is.”

“You lost me at custard creams.”

“You’ve got no biscuit integrity.”

“Says the man who has a soft spot for Hobnobs.”

“They’re classic,” he said, mock-affronted. “They don’t need your approval.”

She laughed, properly this time, and for a moment it felt like the weight had shifted. Not gone. But lighter. Carried together, even just for a while.

part two...

taglist: @rebelatbay @fictionalfanatic123 @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @geauxharry @hzstry @oikarma @chilling-seavey@the-holy-trinity-l @idc4987 @rayaskoalaland @elieanana@bookishnerd1132@mercurymaxine

flat next door/station down the road taglist: @f1enthusiastsstuff @luminouskalopsia @f1boistrash @pandora108 @obxstiles @cinderellawithashoe @breiiology @sunshinesafteycar @coffeebeforewater @taetae-armyyyyy @capricornito @ravenrage27 @bowielovesyou @adalynneva @hreader7 @ladyliberty6 @isotopemylove @scarsoncherryglass @samanthaw16 @lauvender-bolter @oxforce @padwanoftheyear @fangirlmusicbiashoe @papayainsectorone @le-le-lea @clovermoters @leeknowinggg

279 notes · View notes

its-in-the-woods · 23 hours ago

Text

About Damn Time

~ Series of smutty one-shots with Congressmen Bucky Barnes ~

Masterlist

MINORS and AI dickbags GET OUT.

Synopsis: You and the congressmen have been dating for a while now, and you cannot wait to jump his bones any longer.

Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x You/x reader (afab) no use of y/n

Word count: 4.6k

Rating/Warning: Established relationship, somewhere between TFATWS and Thunderbolts*. CongressmenBucky, p in v, slight dombucky subby reader, Smut, oral (f), slight body image issues from everyone, ingering, creampie (wrap it), biting, kissing, cussing, fun to bad had

Author notes: This will probably end up being a series of cute, funny, and ridiculously smutty one-shots. Enjoy, tell your friends ;)

All mistakes, grammar, and plot holes are my own.

You met him at a veterans' fundraiser, he had been kind, caring, easy to talk to. He’d sit with anyone who wanted to speak to him, really let them be heard. It was clear that was why he had gotten the votes, his actual care for others seeped through his pores. It was so rare a sight in the modern day. So when he came to sit beside you, you were surprised. You had arranged the event, invited many members who were running for congress, but Mr. Barnes had been the only one that had stayed. The only one that couldn't keep his eyes off you.

“Thank you for organizing the event,” He said quietly, sitting beside you, right hand fiddling with the glove covering the left.

You smile, “Thank you for staying. Means a lot to the vets to hear from you. “

Just like that it started.

He’d show up at your job, always bringing coffee or something sweet. You were pretty certain that some of your co-workers had let slip what you enjoyed to the charming congressmen. It also helped that he never missed an event. Barnes was old-fashioned that way; he didn’t push, didn’t press things, just showed up. Until finally you gave him your number, and told him if he didn’t set up a date, you would.

He picked you up at your place, flowers in hand, opening up your door and pulling out your chair. The place was small, tucked away in Brooklyn. The owner knew him by name, you caught him giving a thumbs up to James, Bucky.

You knew then that you’d have taken him home that night. Months of talking and flirting, it had felt right. But after making out in his car like you were fourteen again, he’d walked you to your door, kissed your forehead, and walked back to his car. Promising it would be worth the wait.

That had been four dates ago, several coffees, and a dozen run-ins, and you were not waiting any longer. The man was going to be the death of you, and you were determined to get him through that door somehow.

“So, I am leaving in about fifteen, going to stay at Chad’s place,” Your roommate, Dahlia, said from the other side of the door. “And I really need to pee!” She grumbles, “Isn’t this like your five hundredths date, is he impotent or something?”

You open the door with a huff, “No, He is not impotent.” Stopping for a second you think of that. “Okay, just because he is over a hundred years old, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t work.”

Her eyes narrow, “So then why has it taken him so long? Look at you, you’re a ten everyday. And he’s just dragging it out.”

“Oh hush. I am six on a good day.” You roll your eyes. “He’s just.” Your cheeks flush, making Dahlia gag as she checks her hair in the mirror. “Different, doesn’t like to rush things. Beside, this, what, your eighth time going back to Chad? You can do better.”

It was Dahlia’s turn to roll her eyes. “Unfortunately, guys from the forties don’t just appear at my work like they do yours. And the sex is good.”

You wrinkle your face, checking that you have all your stuff in your purse. Phone buzzing in your hand.

Bucky <3 : Be there in five. Can’t wait to see you.

The flush that creeps up your neck is totally normal, you tell yourself.

“Alright, hot stuff, I am out of here.” Dahlia grins, twirling a piece of her hair with her fingers. “Going to want all the details about your old man.”

You groan and she winks before taking off into the night. Checking yourself for the tenth time, you wonder if you’re overdoing it. The dress is emerald green, sweetheart neckline, long flowing sleeves, and mid-thigh slit. You wore black heels that weren’t too high, and a clutch that matched it. Chewing on your lip, you almost decided to change into something different when a knock came at the door.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you decide it's now or never. Walking over to the door to open it. Bucky stands on the other side, wearing black on black, the top couple buttons on his dress shirt undone, hair ruffled back as he takes you in.

“Wow,” He blinked, his tongue wetting his lips. “You look fantastic.”

You let out a small giggle, “Not so bad yourself, Sergeant Barnes.”

He chuckles, holding his arm out for you to take. You close the door behind you, grabbing his arm to start the way to his car.

“It isn’t too much is it?” You ask quietly, as he goes to open the door.

His eyes crinkle as he looks at you over again, “Never is, when it’s you.”

You roll your eyes and pat his hand before getting into the car.

Dinner was at a steakhouse downtown, it wasn’t where either of you normally went, but man was the food delicious. Bucky told stories of dealing with the press, you had no idea how he managed all of it, and learning how to be press ready. Something along the lines of saying worry four times in one interview, didn’t seem to work well for them. You told him about fighting for grants and funding. That, despite the endless amount of paperwork, you still had more to do.

He’d hold your hand with his gloved one, thumb running over the top of your knuckles. Watching you closely as you spoke of troubles and worries you had. Reaffirming that you would figure it out, and he’d do what he could help. It was easy, it always had been. The way he understood without being patronizing, supportive, and not overbearing. Like the whole world stopped when you spoke.

Meal finished you sat, finishing up your glass of wine and Bucky sipping on whiskey.

“I was thinking-” “Would you-”

Both of you are stumbling over your words.

You bite your lip before holding up a hand, “No, no, go first.”

His cheeks stained pink, “Would you like to come to my place?” Swallowing, his eyes glancing down at were your hands are linked. “Umm, tonight.”

Grinning, you nod, “I would love that. Was going to invite you into mine.”

His eyebrows go up, “Really? Got tired of waiting?”

Your face flushes, “I’d wait for you.” You reach over and grab both his hands in yours across the table. “But I am certainly not going to say, no.”

The bill is paid for quickly, the air between you is now charged more than normal, his hands don’t stop touching you. He holds your hand at the table as the bill is paid, as you get up to leave, his hand slides gently onto the small of your back. In the car, his large palm slips gently past the fabric of your dress to rest warmly on your thigh.

Your skin prickles with heat, goosebumps running up your neck, when he squeezes slightly. His eyes on the road, but they glance over at your more, that unspoken quietness that has you wanting to pull the car over. Low music playing in the background, but your mind is starting to melt. It was finally happening, and you were surprisingly more excited than anxious.

He pulls up in front of a small apartment complex, it’s in a quieter, older end of the city. It should surprise you, but it doesn't, it’s perfectly Bucky. Stepping out into the cool night air you look at the area. It’s older, less generatified than many, small stores underneath the apartments. An older lady walks by, with a small white fluffy dog, saying hello to Bucky. She gives you a smile and a wink, and of course he is known by everyone.

Grabbing your hand, he leans down and gives you a quick kiss, before guiding you inside. You follow eagerly, face already flushed as you ascend the set of stairs. Cursing slightly at the fact that you decided to wear heels.

“Hold on,” Bucky whispers at a landing, before he is picking you up, one arm under your legs, the other holding your back. You let out a squeak before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Got to warn a girl, Bucky,” You giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Can’t have you worn out before we get up there now.” Bucky replies, before easily carrying you up the next flight of stairs

He unlocks the door with one hand and pushes it open. He flicks on a light to reveal his home. The lights are dim, older fixtures that he has clearly restored, bathing the place in a warm glow. The kitchen is tidy, a rack of dishes sits on the counter, and a coffee pot half filled. The living room has a worn sofa, with a wall of bookcases, full of worn books, and a small tv in the corner that definitely has dust on it. It’s cozy and comfortable, a space clearly cherished and lived in.

He carefully lowers you to the ground, you lean up to kiss him again, your fingers running through the hair along the back of his neck. He kisses you back, hand coming up to cup your jaw. Thumb making lazy circles over your cheekbones. You nip at his lips, hearing him let out a small groan, his free hand sliding to your hip.

Pulling back, he leans his forehead against yours, a small smile spreading over his face. “Let’s get these shoes off.”

You hum, watching him kneel down in front of you, heart stuttering in your chest when he looks up at you. Blue eyes framed by dark hair, a warm hand sliding down your calf, as a cool one slips down over your heel and pops it off. He moves over to the next one, cool hand sliding up along your leg, his eyes following it. The other heel hits the ground, the metal of his hand stays on your calf, moving up and pushing the slit of your dress open slightly. He leans forward and kisses the skin on the inside of your knee.

A shiver runs down your spine as your foot hits the cool wood floor below your feet. You hold a hand out, that Bucky takes, standing up, he leans down to kiss you again. Pulling you tight against his chest, you hear your heart thumping in your ears as your hands reach up to cup his face. His hands move to your hips, fingers digging into the material as he opens his mouth to nip at your lips. A small groan escapes as your tongue pushes into his mouth. The taste of whisky and him making your toes curl.

“You taste so sweet,” He murmurs, slowly pushing you past the kitchen, towards a short hallway.

Your back hits the door, and both of you fumble for the handle. It opens, and you both topple forward. You are pretty sure the neighbors hear you nearly scream as you fall. Bucky catches you and rolls so that you land on top of him. A giggle erupts out of both of you as you lie there in a tangle of limbs.

“Not what I had planned,” Bucky murmurs, his cheeks gone pink. It only furthers your giggling fit, burying your head against his chest.

“Guess you could say you swept me off my feet.” Your own face red from the ridiculous jokes.

Bucky groans, eyes rolling, “Been reduced to Dad jokes.”

You continue the gigglefest, as the two of you get up off the floor. It was hard not to feel a little silly around him, he had that effect. Walls sliding down easily, making you feel safe, like no one else could.

“Where were we?” You lean into him, one hand on his chest, the other coming up to cup his jaw.

He leans against your palm, eyes closing, as he breathes you in. The stubble on his cheeks makes your fingers tingle, as you rub small circles into the skin. Fingers run from our hips up along your sides, a shiver running down your spine, making you squirm. Pulling you closer his hands move to your back find the zipper, he leans in close to your ear.

“Think you’re wearing too many clothes,” He whispers into your ear, his voice a deep growl that makes the hair on your arms stand up. “Turn around.”

A shudder comes out, you do what he asks and turn around. Warm fingers find the zipper and slowly pull it down, as the teeth click, a cool finger runs down the now bare skin. A gasp escapes from your lips, his hands moving from your back up to the sleeves of the dress, slowly pushing them down your arms. His lips find your skin, kissing along the top of your shoulder. You shrug the dress down one shoulder, his hand pushing the other down. The dress slides down to your hips, pooling fabric around your waist. Bucky’s lips don’t stop moving. He kisses slowly down your shoulder as his arms wrap around your waist. Clothed body pressing behind you, one hand moving to cup at your breast.

“Bucky,” You whisper, your head tipping back against him. Groaning as his one hand moves down and pushes the rest of your dress down.

“Turn around,” He hushes, kissing down along your neck. His teeth scraped against the skin, your mind turning to mush as you turn to face him.

You stand there nearly bare, save for a matching set of black underwear and bra, watching him look you over. His cool eyes going down along your skin, eyes moving along you like he was trying to burn the memory of you into his mind,

“You’re stunning,” He whispers, holding your gaze. “You tell me if it’s too much.”

You nod, it wasn't, it couldn’t be, not with him. Right there you’d do just about anything he would ask. “I will, but it’s not. It’s never too much.”

A small smirk crosses his face, his shoulders roll as he pushes his suit jacket off. Fingers moving up to do the buttons, you move forward wanting to help, but he holds up a hand, stopping you. Butterflies blossom in your stomach as you stand back. Watching as he undoes the buttons, fingers easily slipping them out of each slot. He pulls the shirt out from the waistband of his pants, pushing the material back off his chest. You swallow, watching the wide expanse of his chest appear, the way his movement flexes the muscles. Hands clenching against your bare thigh with the need to touch.

The shirt snags where his shoulder and arm meet on the left side, his face scrunching in frustration at the material. You don’t hesitate, moving forward, one hand rest on his pec and the other goes over to the caught fabric. Sliding a finger underneath, you carefully work the fabric out before pushing it down. His body stills, his eyes flicking down to you. You hold his gaze as the shirt drops down, finger moving along his skin. Feeling the different scars that dot his chest, you flick down to the large scar where the metal meets the skin.

You don’t ask, instead leaning down to kiss at some of the smaller scars, watching his breath hitch as you move over. Keeping your eyes on his you kiss down the ragged edges of his scar, you can hear his heart start to pick up. You start at the top of his shoulder, going down along it, leaving your kiss light, soft, leaving room for him to tell you to stop. Moving your hands, you reach up to gently touch his face, leaning on your toes, you kiss him softly.

“All the details, the stories,” You whisper quietly. “I want to know every one of them.”

A shutter rattles his body, and his hands are on you. Finger digging into your hips, as his lips crash into yours, it is hungry and desperate. You kiss back against the onslaught, your hands weaving into his hair, pulling just enough to anchor you to him. He backs you up slowly, your legs hitting the edge of the bed.

“Fuck, wanted to do this for so long,” Bucky groans, kissing down your neck, as you both fall back against the bed.

Your hands move down to his belt, and he swats them away. You moan. “Buckyyy, please.”

“Not yet, sweetheart. Want to make it a night to remember.” He smirks, resting so that he is leaning over top of you.

“It already is,” You complain, hands running along his chest and down his arms, squeezing at them.

He leans forward, kissing down your neck, down along your shoulder, around your collarbones. Resting on his metal arm, he uses his free hand to reach behind you and unclip your bra. Arching your back, you help him free it before his mouth moves again. Hand kneading at your breast, making you hiss as he leans down to suck at one of your nipples. A whimper leaves your lips as he laps at it, teeth scraping at the sensitive bud.

Whimpering your hands move to grab at his back. The metal hand moves quickly snatching both of your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“You squirm so much,” He grins, holding you steady as you pout. Kissing your pout, he switches to the other nipple, making you squirm more, breathy pants coming as you feel heat pulse in your core.

“Goddamn, you’re such a tease.” You huff, now trying to arch your hips up for some friction.

Bucky grumbles, shifting so that his legs spread yours open, making it difficult for you to try and move up. The more you struggle, the more he grins, and he goes back to kissing down your body, stretching as far as he can reach with your hands pinned.

“I am going to let go,” His eyes are dark with need, desire, swirling in the air. “If you move I stop.”

“Ahh, I should have known you were kinky.” You yip back, trying not to squirm. “It’s always the quiet ones-” Your breath is suddenly sucked out of your lungs, when he tongues just below your naval.

His teeth nip harder here, making you shiver, he licks and sucks after each bite, leaving a squiggling line of bruises across your lower stomach. Going further down, his tongue moves down and licks along the edge of your panties.

Your body clenches as you try not to squirm, fist balling up the soft bedding underneath. Nearly losing it when you look down to see him lying between your legs, hands holding onto your hips, as he grabs onto your panties with his teeth. Bucky looks up at your eyes, connecting with yours as he works them down. Moving them just enough that he can get where he wants to go. Eyes pinning you in place as he leans forward, thumbs pushing your fold open as his tongue flicks out and tastes you.

A whimper leaves your mouth, as his eyes close, he pushes forward eagerly, tongue taking a deep sweep as he groans. The vibrations have your hands fisted in the sheets, mind melting into a puddle as he continues to lick into your core.

“Please,” You whimper, legs shaking as his nose brushes against your clit. “Let me touch you.”

His head raises, lips and chin soaked in your slick, which just makes you want to reach for him more. Bucky shakes his head. Before doubling his efforts, he moves his left hand down, running the cool metal along where your thigh and core meet. Mouth moving up to nip at your folds, making you buck up, just as one of the cold metal fingers slips inside.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp, he stops moving for a second, eyes focused on your face as he starts to work one finger in and out.

Keening, your hips move down against the friction, it's not enough. As if reading your mind, he slips another finger in. Scissoring them and opening you up, heat starting to grow in your stomach. A cry leaving as he latches onto your clit, sucking and humming, the slow pace picking up as his fingers move deeper. They curl up looking for the spongy spot, when he hits your eyes slam shut body pulsing as he keeps moving. Fingers moving up and pressing at it over and over, combined with him sucking and humming on your clit has you teetering on the edge.

“I am-” Your breath stutters as he pops off your clit. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Grinning he moves his tongue down to wear his fingers are, scissoring you open so he can stick his tongue deep inside.

“Goddamnit, Bucky please. Please.” You’re begging, the edge of release is right there, just under his tongue.

The bastard chuckles, leaning forward to blow on your clit, “So pretty when you beg.”

You don’t have time to curse him out, as he latches back onto your clit, tongue swirling around as his fingers push up and against the spot. Eyes opening wide, mouth agape in a slight scream as pleasure washes over you. He doesn’t stop moving and sucking against you. The feeling keeps building, the fire growing, tingling out through your lower abdomen. It’s not enough and too much at the same time. You couldn’t help but let your fingers finally card into his hair, they clenched in and out.

Bucky finally eases up, your thighs shaking as you try to find words in the haze. He moves up fingers, carefully slipping out of you, and you let out a huff at losing the sensation. Hands coming to cup his face, you bring him closer and kiss him, tongue pushing in so that you can taste a mix of you both.

“You broke the rules,” He teases, kissing the tip of your nose. His body is not quite laying on top of yours.

A small giggles leave your mouth, “Still can’t think straight.” Your hands move down along his broad back, “Next time you’re just going to have to tie me up.”

Bucky grins, eyes crinkling as he kisses along your jaw. “Next time huh?”

Your hands roam down over his still cloth covered lower half, you squeeze his ass with one hand, the other moving to his front to work his belt open.

“Many more times,” You grin, kissing his forehead as you slide the belt out.

He sits back up, standing, and slides his pants and underwear down in one motion. Revealing his straining cock, it bumps against his lower abdomen, leaking enough to leave a mark there. You stare a little longer than you mean to, before your eyes flick back up to his. He smirks and crawls back onto the bed, his arms encasing you as he peers down at you.

“So many promises,” He whispers, his metal arm hikes up one of your thighs as his mouth finds yours.

Gasp escapes your lips as the thick tip of cock rubs against your folds, you are going to feel this, every bit of it. His hand drags you closer, letting you start to sink into it, and the feel of him starts to stretch you. Your hands digging into the flesh of his back. Moving your hips, you finally get him to sink deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” He hushes, kissing down along your jaw, tongue running from below your ear and down your neck. He found the spot where your shoulder met your neck and latched onto it.

He sinks all the way in, your mouth opens, gasping his name, throwing your other leg over top of his hips. Rocking up to meet his hips, your bodies flush where you join. He waits a moment, and you want to scream for him to move, to do something. So full, body aching and fluttering around him, still sensitive from your release earlier.

Finally, he moves, slowly pulling out, then sliding back in, he moans into your ear. Saying your name softly as he continues to move, at a steady, unrelenting pace. One of your hands grips his hip, the other running into his hair, pulling him into a devastating kiss. You pull back, resting your forehead against his, his face slack with pleasure, yet lined as he holds back.

“Don’t hold back,” You whisper quietly, leaning in to bite at his lip.

Something snaps in the air, his hips still for a moment, then his hands are gripping your hips, dragging you up onto his lap. His hips snap up making you gasp, strong arms wrapping around you as he starts to fuck in earnst. You can feel how deep he sits inside you, the way your stretched out, mind going fuzzy with the sound of your bodies filling the air. Nothing holds him back, you just cling onto him, mind goes blank. Your hand moves between you, rubbing at your clit. Making your insides spasm around him.

“I am so close,” He whispers, grunting with the effort, muscle straining as he pumps into you. “Where?”

You kean, feeling your own pleasure renewing and blooming out. “Inisde, fuck please, inside me.”

His mouth latches onto the top of your shoulder, biting hard, and a shout rips out of you as you come. Your eyes rolling back in the fog of pleasure and pain, making your whole body clench around him. His body spasms as he holds you close. His own body tensing, breath in short pants, heart hammering as he keeps pumping into you over and over. Metal hand placed on your lower back, as his rhythm falters, you feel him slam in cock twitching as he spills inside you.

Breath still in short pants, you both collapse onto the bed, Bucky still holding you tight against his warm body. His heart just under your ear, body aching in the best way possible. Sweat and hair mingled together as you lay there happily.

“You okay?” He whisper hands rubbing gently up and down your ribs, you could still feel him inside you.

“Mmhmm,” You mumble, trying to find words that seem to have left your brain. “Think you broke me.”

You felt him tense up at the words, you smack at his arm. “Not like that.” You giggle leaving light kisses across his hot skin. “Just a little foggy.”

He relaxes, moving so he can look at you, “That good or bad?”

You lean back grabbing a pillow to shove under both of your heads. “So, so good.”

He kisses you quietly, carefully unwrapping your legs from his before pulling out. You grumble at losing the feeling , but don’t hesitate to smack his butt as he goes to leave.

“Behave,” He says with a grin. “Be right back.”

You groan, shifting a little, kicking and moving the blankets so that you can crawl underneath. The sheets were soft and comfortable, your head still riding the high of the orgasm. You could get used to this, a small smile crosses your face.

Bucky slips in, two glasses of water in one large hand, another holds a washcloth. He puts the drink down, flipping the covers up, he grabs your ankles and drags you closer to him.

“You love to manhandle me,” You giggles, letting him carefully clean up the mess between your legs.

“Think you like it as much as I do,” He grins, before tossing the towel into a basket near the closet.

You nod your head as you take the water glass, taking a few stips, “Not used to being thrown around, can’t say I mind.”

He drinks his own water, before crawling into bed beside you. “Good, cause you still owe me for breaking the rules.”

~*~*~*~*~*

Let me know if you enjoyed it <3 Reblog, comment, like, more to cum *cough*

138 notes · View notes

unluckilyimnot · 1 day ago

Text

Nat's roommate – bucky x fem!reader (2)

Summary: You take care of Alpine while he's away and he thanks you with a home made dinner.

Friends to lovers but they kiss this time, baseball player!bucky, mention of alcohol, mutual pining, they both get bolder wc:3.8k

Note: I like this one honestly, but it made a little less sense alone even if it can be read by itself ! It was simply someone motion on the first part in the begging but I thought it was nice writing it slsls Reblog appreciate, I'm insecure in my writing lately..

part 1 | masterlist | rules

You sigh as you finally step into Natasha's apartment. Your body is sore from the pilates session you just had. You can barely hold your bag up to the table and took a second to curse the friend you asked you to come with her. You kept your shoes on as you didn't intend to stay long today.

"Alpine ?" You called out, since she didn't run into your legs today, while you opened the windows to air the living room.

You took another look around, searching for the white ball of fur you love so much. You called her name again as you made your way to Bucky's room.

Bucky left for his training camp almost two weeks ago. It happens twice a year, he goes camping with his baseball team and trains like a military man for 2 weeks. Usually, Natasha takes care of Alpine while he's away, but this time their calendar didn't match. Natasha left to visit her sister as she always did every two breaks at uni – the other, it was her coming to New York. So there you were, wondering about the place you know like the back of your hand, looking for his adorable cat.

Pushing the door of his room opened, you're welcome with his baby resting on his pillow – like she usually does when he leaves for a long time. Your eyes soften at the sight, cooing gently at her before you take out your phone and snap a picture. The deal was for you to take care of her while they're both away – and for you to send him pictures every day. You were not getting over the fact that he, out of all the man you knew, was such a cat dad. You had to push him out of his own place or he would've been late because he was still petting her in your arms when he was supposed to leave.

You send it immediately before moving to sit next to her, running your finger through her long, white fur. She meowed quietly, before she rolled on her back and rested against your thigh. A dumb smile curled on your lips as you pet her under the chin.

"You didn't hear me, huh," you whispered with a baby voice, mesmerized by the sweet kitty next to you. "He's coming back tomorrow, you must have missed him a lot."

Now she was fully awake, looking up at you with her beautiful crystal, blue eyes that remind you of him as she blinked slowly your way. You took her in your arms before laying down on his bed, with her staying on your chest. You couldn’t help it, you love taking care of her. To be fair, you were really happy when he asked you to do it – it meant he trusted you. Plus she was used to you, liked you a lot even so it was probably just easier. But still, it made your heart flutter. Even more after the other night at the bar, it made you think that, maybe, it was more than that. Than just making sure she was comfortable and trusting you.

It felt like a violation to come into his room without him, laying on his bed when he's not there and you hope he wouldn't mind. It didn't last long though, as much as you wanted to, you were in need of a shower to get rid of all the sweat remaining on your body. So you grabbed her and made your way back into the living room again.

She jumped out of your arms by herself, waiting on the counter as she watched you move around her home. You changed her water before filling her small plate with cat's wet food. It'll be all for tonight you fear. You stayed with her until she was done eating and kissed her good night.

The next day, as you were working on the English essay you had to return on the first day of the next semester, your phone lit up. Deciding it wasn't a bad time to take a break, you took your phone. It was Bucky, inviting you over tonight for dinner – as a thank you.

Your phone fell from your hands, hitting the pill of paper on your desk. You hold in a small gasp and lend a hand on your heart, trying to steady yourself. That was something new. You already spent nights with Bucky, watching a movie or talking, waiting for Natasha to come back from her lessons. But it was never just the two of you by the end of the night and your heart had a hard time registering that. He was a gentleman, of course he would thank you while inviting you over for dinner. It still puts your heart and mind through a lot.

He never really seemed interested in you, not really, before that night. You thought he saw you more like a third roommate, like he sees Natasha – a close friend, he can rely on, flirt with playfully without it becoming weird. And at first it was, you played along, not expecting anything. But for once in your life, you were treated so well that you couldn't help it but fell for him. For his smile, his pretty blue eyes and the stupid pet names he calls you; for the way he holds you when you drink too much or checks on you every time you get quiet. There were too many things now, it wasn't just casual, it couldn't be.

You cleared your throat, shaking your head before replying quickly, that you were free. He just had to tell you what you should bring.

'Nothing. I invite you, I'm cooking.'

God your heart will not survive the night.

You knock twice in the door as when you arrived – you've left his keys in the mailbox when you left yesterday. You heard Alpine meow and his heavy steps on the ground even if he seemed far away. She kept on meowing in front of the door, again and again as if she didn't just see you yesterday. You giggle, finding it funnier than you'd like to admit to hearing him trying to calm her down.

"Yes mama's there, I know ! No need to scream," you heard him say on the other side of the door.

Your cheeks turn hot in a second at the sweetness in his voice.

"Hey," he said quickly after opening the door, nearly panting as he smiled at you.

Your heart skipped a beat – not surprising at all, everyone would catch their breath at a pretty smile like his. You smiled his way, happy to see him back, before your eyes tear away from him at the feeling of Alpine soft fur in your legs. You take her in your arms quickly, burying your face into her neck and walk inside.

"Who would know you didn't hear me yesterday huh," you teased her as she pushed her small head in your cheek.

"So, I'm her mama now?" You asked his way now, with an eyebrow raised and a smug expression on your face.

He scoffed, his hand ran around his chin. He looked away for a second before he nodded, looking back into your eyes with a small smirk on his lips. "Well, she's more cuddly with you than with Nat, so yeah. I think that in her little head, you're her mom." He admits.

Your eyes linger on him as he talks and moves around the kitchen, getting everything he needed out to cook. He was wearing a simple gray shirt but God, it was fitting him so well, his broad shoulders seemed to suffocate in it. When he looked back at you, your eyes turned away quickly to his cat, petting her a little before letting her go.

"Is that so..." you stated softly, making your way to sit on the kitchen island next to him, brushing the fuzzy feeling in your belly away. "So, how was the camp ?"

"Hum, well actually," he said with a nod even if he seemed to look for his words. "I'm making carbonara pasta, good for you ?"

Your eyes widened as you gasped. "Of course ?? I love it so much !"

He chuckled at the happiness dripping from your lips. "Yeah, I know."

He seemed to avoid his camp for some reasons, and you were no-one to force him to talk, yet. Instead, you shook your head lightly, staring at your feet hanging in the air rather than his focus face. He pokes his tongue out when he's focused, he does that during his baseball game too. You find it absolutely adorable, but you can never take him seriously when he does. You jump down, taking place on the other side of the island then place your hand on it.

"How can I help ?" you asked, fingers drumming on the surface. He shook his head.

"You, my dear, won't help. This," he showed the room around, dim light, music you liked in the background and two glasses still empty – but not for long. "Is all for you. You're not doing anything, I'm thanking you."

You scoffed at his dramatic setting as he finally filled the two glasses with white wine and gave one to you, sending you a playfully wink before his features softened. He goes back to his preparation in silence for a while, starts cooking soon afterward – his head moves along with the music. It is comfortable, almost domestic and it would make your pulse quicken if you weren’t already a little used to it. He's a rather good cook, so he already made dinner for you and Natasha a few times over the last few months.

"No but really, thank you for taking care of her. She's as if I never left," He confessed quietly, taking a sip but not turning your way. "She's usually more stressed when I leave for so long. She must really like you."

That makes your heart beat faster. You have no idea how much he loves her, you can only imagine it; so him telling you he could tell she was doing fine with you switch something inside you.

“I’m glad then, I did my best.” You didn’t say it was nothing, ‘cause it wasn’t – not for him.

You were sure that he would only date someone his cat loves as well at this point, so you really, deeply appreciate the compliment.

"You skipped the camp question far too quickly," you commented, moving slowly to lean next to the stove and look at him. "What's that ? Something went wrong ?"

He scoffed again, looking up for a second and you didn't miss his tongue poking inside his cheek. Something bothered him for sure.

"There was a girl team nearby, and some folks bothered me with one of them," he confessed after a beat, shaking his head in the process.

You cheered softly, hitting your shoulder with his arm, asking for more – doing your best to ignore the sting in your heart.

"So you got her number ??"

"Nah, she wasn't my type. I was definitely hers though." Here was the confident smirk on his lips that rarely leaves him. "I already have my eyes on someone."

His eyes fell on you for half a second, something between a knowing gaze and resignation. You, on the other hand, dramatically gasped for air, making him chuckle.

"Who ?!" you gasped again, not believing it.

He never showed interest in anyone you know. Yes, you've seen him flirt with people at university or at the bar, but nothing serious that ended up being something more. And not in a long time, you have to admit. That brought you back to yourself, to the longing feeling in your chest that maybe, just maybe, it could be you – but he wouldn't have told you that easily then, right ?

"I can't tell you," he kept on shaking his head, but there was a playful smile on his lips as he dressed the plates. "You know them, so nope. Not happening. There, princess."

"Never do that again," you warned him, a playful disgust all over your face as you frowned his way.

You still take your plate from his hand gently. He outdid himself, it was pretty, it would be a shame if it fell on the ground.

"I thought you had someone in mind ?" You joked further, but honestly, you liked it more than you should authorize yourself.

"They'll never know," he winked playfully too before making his way to sit at the small kitchen island.

"That's some bad mentality you have there," you snored.

Sitting next to him, taking a bite before him your eyes widened. You were sure he could see the glitters in your eyes when your head snapped his way. He always waits for you to taste first before starting to eat for some reason.

"That's amazing!! Oh my God, come to my house and redo it every night !"

He laughed out loud – a real, haha, laughter and you swear, your heart stopped. Warmth filled your body, your heart melted and you were probably blushing now. That was the most raw laugh you've ever got from him by yourself. And you love that desperately. This moment, the intimacy of sitting on a dirty kitchen island with him, his thigh touching yours and his cat's tail around your legs. You're not even sure you'll ever want somebody who's not him in your life.

"I could, but you'll have to eat something else at some point." His laugh still hung in his voice.

"Try me."

He knew you were dead serious, that was probably the worst part. The way your eyes were glued on him, and he was staring back, a smile in his eyes.

"You're impossible," he chuckled softly, shaking his head while taking a bite.

"You love me," you answered before you could think about it and, for a second, you were scared you went too far.

You took a second to blink, composed yourself, and wet your lips before you got back to eat, watching his reaction closely despite yourself. He smiled, soft, gentle – he probably didn't know you were looking. He almost looked sad.

"Yeah, I do." His voice mirrors the mix of feelings in his eyes.

If you didn't know better, if you weren't so scared to ruin everything, if you didn't know he was already into someone – you would've kissed him. But you couldn’t, something held you back from getting any closer for a second. Despite the wait, there was no hesitation in his voice and that was the most unsettling. Your vision shook, not sure if you were ready to fully accept that maybe, maybe, he was into you too. Instead, you hit his arm gently with your elbow.

"Stop it, don't say yes on top of that," you whispered playfully, but a flash of his lips on your skin came back to your mind and your throat tightened.

"So, how was your break ?" he changed the subject without denying anything, leaving you stuttering.

"F–fine, hum, I got to spend a lot of time with Wanda, I think it’s going somewhere with her senior crush," you tag along, running away from what you two just said, from your feelings before it gets out of hand.

Your pasta never looked so interesting, your eyes barely teared away from it while you talked about the news things you learned during the last two weeks. You steal glances at him while taking bite after bite, meeting his eyes every time without fail – it was ridiculous at this point, and you both ended up laughing. Your face leaned on the back of your hand, it was your turn this time, a genuine smile on your lips and you swear you heard his breath catch; or maybe you imagined it because you wished it’d happened.

"You missed a lot of things," you said finally, twirling your fork around your plate.

"I'm sure I did."

Just like that, you two ended up drinking on the couch after being done eating, with Alpine curled into Bucky's laps. You took a picture when he wasn't looking, too busy laughing at Natasha's favorite top being destroyed by Fanny, Yelena's dog.

“How did I miss that ? Why didn’t she send it to me too ?” he choked out between two laughs, grabbing air with his hand for you to give him your phone once more, so he could laugh again.

“What can I say ? I’m privileged, Buck,” you smiled, giving him happiness.

Your feet were hidden below his thigh to keep them warm and your head leaned into the backrest. You started to feel hot with the wine. As much as you love white wine, it does go to your head easily. Your cheeks felt hot and you closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the calm moment a little more. Bucky’s laugh was fading away slowly, making you crack your eyes open.

He was mirroring you, his head rested the same way as yours, staring at you softly. He had small eyes, his eyes bags were a lot darker than you noticed earlier but he seemed content, at peace.

“You can stay here tonight if you’re tired. Nat wouldn’t mind giving you her room,” Bucky offered gently. “I can’t offer you a ride right now, I’m too tired for that,” he added in a chuckle.

You shook your head. “I don’t feel like sleeping alone tonight, and sadly she has no plushie for me,” you only half-joke.

You had no idea since when you get bold enough to see something like this; but here you were, staring in his eyes playfully, watching him swallow hard enough to make him swallow hard.

“I’ll go home soon, I don’t wanna bother you,” you added leaning a little more into the couch.

Bucky’s eyes study you for a second, your features, stopping a second too long either on your lips or your chest – you couldn’t really tell – before leaning in dangerously. Maybe the alcohol made him bolder too, even if he never really needed it before. Your heart stutters, before picking its pace and beating faster. You close your eyes when you could feel him getting closer and closer before a weight landed on your laps.

You open your eyes – Alpine.

“I can offer you this, if that’s enough.” His breath hitch on your face.

You chuckled as you pet her gently. “She only sleeps with you at night, don’t play dumb.”

“You can still have her,” he answered without missing a beat, a knowing gaze in his eyes. Daring you to say yes.

Yet you hesitate. It suddenly felt like a lot, or at least more than you could possibly handle. It felt like he could hear your heart drumming in your body, he was aiming for it, trying to lure it his way and keep it forever – and you’ll let him. If it wasn’t for this stupid fear of losing the friendship you’ve built for him. You couldn’t handle returning to a world without him and this step felt like you might be forced to if it goes wrong.

“I’m not sure about this Bucky…” your voice came out as a whisper, not that you wanted to.

His eyes fluttered around, his jaw worked – you didn’t shift away from him, not even a bit. It took it as a green light, leaning in closer until his nose brushed into yours.

“You’re the only one playing dumb right now,” his voice was low and rough, yet his eyes shine with longing. With a desperation that needed to meet its end.

They fell on your lips again and, after he captured the sparkles in your eyes as he did so, his lips fell on yours gently, barely touching but still managing to steal a kiss from you. You expected butterflies in your stomach, feeling all fuzzing and seeking for more immediately – but you met an unnamed warm feeling, your breath catching when he pulled away. Instead of running after his lips, your hands find his cheek and you lean your forehead against his. All the worry clouding your mind for the last few weeks were gone in a blink of an eye. You could finally let go of a breath you’ve been holding for what felt like hours, the weight of uncertainty now melting away.

So you kissed him back. Late, yes, but you did and you could feel his lips curled up in the kiss.

“Took you long enough,” he cursed under his breath in a small, relief chuckle.

“It only means you're not that good at flirting,” you answered without missing a beat, but still leaning your cheek into his hand.

“You’re just dense,” he said, deadpan. “You were the only one I allowed close to me for months, the only one I called with pet names,” he urged, shaking his head. “And I could tell you were in love, but you were always keeping yourself at distance, I hated it. Why do you need alcohol so bad, huh ?”

“You’re intimidating Buck, what can I say” you giggled at first, but your shoulders fell. “I never thought you could be interested in me,” you admit after a beat, not looking at him anymore. “I knew you were like this, caring,” you precise, “with other people. I– I didn’t think I was special.”

He captured your lips again, not wasting a second. Both his hands hold your face now as he kissed you more fiercely this time, looking for more, letting you know you were as he deepened the kiss gently. Until he pulls away as gently.

“It’s only you love, for a while now. Sorry I didn’t do enough,” he cooed, leaving a small peck on your puffy lips.

“I think I just couldn’t see it, or I didn’t want to. I was scared I'd lose you, you know ? If I authorized myself to see it. I couldn’t handle the idea of not having you around anymore, it hurt too much, and –”

You started rambling, and after that, it didn’t make much sense to be honest, but you were far too gone to realize that. Bucky didn’t stop you. He listened carefully, nodding softly from time to time as he pulled you closer. He pushed your hair away from your face, gazing deeply in your eyes when you looked his way for reassurance. He gave it to you, with his voice low, warm and a kiss on the temple.

You hadn’t drunk much, but the pressure leaving your body, mixed with the tiredness and the alcohol lead you there – not that you’ll mind. There’s far more worse way to end your night than in Bucky’s arms as he listen you talk about how capitalism fucks up people’s view of love.

Let me know if you liked it ! <3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x fem reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky imagines #bucky barnes #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts fanfic #bucky x fem reader #nat's roommate

96 notes · View notes

prettypasteibunny · 3 days ago

Text

More of my hc on what the batboys types would be. (Not based in any canon)

Part one is linked at the bottom!

Tim, Damian (older), duke. (Should I do the girls too?)

This is all Written for fun, and for the 2 people who requested more (ily guys). And also the men’s sections are still quite short but I think a lot of it comes down to the fact I would just be repeating the women’s ones in different words.

Tim: women

- he would probably go for a girl his age who attends his high school/college. (So yous can hang out easy)

- I think he’d take a fancy to smart girls, people who can keep up with his wit.

- would like a modest girl but if he really likes them he could give less a shit what they wear. (Is scared to be seen as too controlling)

- idk I see him to be like a Victorian man, the SLIGHTEST bit of skin is show and this man cannot focus. He’s the reason schools don’t allow girls to show shoulders.

- I think he would like taller women, gets flustered around his taller wife. (Like a bird lol)

- also, women who have more muscle then him? He’s dead on the ground if you flex them.

- he doesn’t care about weight or size, if he sees a pretty woman, he likes.

Tim: men

- Tim strikes me as the type to go out with a jock (I don’t know if it’s just nerd x jock banging around in my mind, lol)

- again, somone stronger then him, just able and willing to throw him around.

- blonde hair, blue eyes.. name starts with ‘b’ ends in ‘ennard’

- nah but for real, I think he’s got a thing for blondes. Man or woman, he likes.

Damian: women

- due to being around women with loads of power his whole life he has grown to like women who are stronger/more socially powerful.

- a woman he spots at a gala who is much much richer and has more power then him or his father? Staring the whole time.

- likes modest women, but if you get together he won’t say anything about more revealing outfits.

- he tends to scowl at women similar to the type his father used to bring home (but will still talk if they approach)

- he prefers fit women, he doesn’t need a muscle mommy but someone with a bit of bulk has his eyes.

- people (man or women), who speak multiple languages. Especially his mother tongue. (He likes hearing you speak it)

- he would probably like a more feminine woman but he wouldn’t mind a masculine one.

Damian: men.

- I don’t really see Damian with men but I’ll try

- he strikes me as the type to like men who are just big airheads

- and by big I mean, tons of muscle.

- he does like a man with smarts, but if they can make up for it in muscle he decides he likes them.

- likes a more traditional man, gentlemen if you will.

- he watched boxing once to get closer with his father and was blushing at the men in tiny shorts fighting one another the whole time (Bruce was concerned) (dick was not)

- languages again, but also he likes people who can play instruments.

Duke: women

- he likes pretty girls, traditionally pretty or girls with pretty eyes.

- he also likes girls who can take care of themselves.

- I don’t think he’d find any of the people at galas very attractive, but alot of the reason for that comes from his lower class background.

- there are some exceptions to this but he tends to only find them attractive and then move on with his day.

- he’d probably like somone he can do romantic teen things with (like the movies), arcades, movie nights and cuddling, anyone up for this has his heart.

- as soon as he joins the batfam he closes off to any suitors because he’s not used to this many and is scarred they’re using him for money, until he finds that half of the people don’t even know he’s living with the Wayne’s.

- I think he likes chubbier/plus sized girls. (And making his girl chubby)

Duke: men

- he would turn away from snobbish men. He finds them hard to find attractive.

- but pretty boys? God save him.

- he doesn’t really like bigger men, someone his size (muscle wise) is fine with him.

- a man in his social class, he can’t keep pulling his phone out every time they say a fancy word.

- he probably likes people who have their own job, he likes the fact that they’re supporting themselves.

- a man who can cook and eat well, has his heart.

#batfamily x reader #batfamily #batboys x reader #duke thomas #duke thomas x reader #the signal #tim drake x reader #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #dc robin #dianedrawls #headcanon

110 notes · View notes

zyettemoon1800 · 2 days ago

Text

Baby SFW

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is not the most affectionate person, however if you want to cuddle than he is down

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You two probably meet at an underground rap battle

you two battle against each other and hung out a lot afterwards

He is the quiet friend that has no problem standing on business.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He likes to cuddle you when it is just the two of you because he hates it when the guys tease him

He loves to cuddle you when you two are just lying in bed

He also like to be the little spoon, but he will not tell anyone that

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

At some point down the line, he does want to settle down, he is young and wants to enjoy his like before doing so.

He sucks at both cooking and cleaning, but he is not a messy person

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would just be straight up with you and tell you

F = Fiance (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

When he is down for you, he is down for you

As long as you are loyal and not toxic yall are good.

He would probably wait two or three years before asking you to marry him

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, he is very gentle with you

You are his partner and baby

Emotionally, he can be kind of hard depending on the situation

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves to hug you and will do it every day

Some hugs are just side hugs, but when he is really feeling lovey, he will wrap his arms around you and pull you into a big hug

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He will wait about a month to see if he is really vibing with you

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn't get jealous often, but when he does, he will just pull you away from the situation

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

In front of fans, he will kiss you gently on cheek or hand.

When you both are at home, he will kiss you on your neck and lips

He also likes to be kissed on the neck or lips

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He would want two kids since he was an only child

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

You two are wrapped up together in bed

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You two are up late playing games or watching videos

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It takes a while for him to truly open up to you

Since he is since as the baby of the group, he puts on a big front that makes him seem untouchable.

So, he has to make sure that you are the one, before he makes himself vulnerable

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He doesn't get anger quick, but he does get annoyed pretty fast

When he gets like this, he will just walk away

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He actually remembers a lot about you, but he acts like he doesn't just to get on your nerves.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you two have rap battles especially when you can't rap

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is very protective over you and will protect you to the end of the world.

He has no problem with fighting someone or getting into someone's face in order to protect you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would put enough effort into anything that will make you smile

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Sometimes he doesn't take serious things seriously which would make you upset

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He is very concerned about his looks since he seen as the baby of the group

so he makes sure to take really good care of his skin

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would be upset when you are not around him because he loves being around you

As soon as he is by you again, he is clinging to you

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Though he loves hot and spicy food, he also has a sever sweet tooth and will eat bag after bag of sweets daily

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I can see him not liking someone who treats him like a baby or someone less than

He is a man, and he expects to be treated like one

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He is a busy sleeper

This being said he will kick and push you around when he is sleeping

#baby saja #saja boys x reader #saja boys #kpop demon hunter #kpop demon hunters #kpop #kpdh

147 notes · View notes

mrs-delaney · 23 hours ago

Text

Teleport 2 Me

Joe Burrow x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k and some change

Request: I was wondering to get a Joe burrow imagine where his fiancé is planning a surprise with kid cudi for their wedding. Whether it is kid cudi singing their first dance song or singing her down the aisle towards to Joe. But she had to turn off her location so the surprise can work because Joe would see where she at if she was taking forever to come home.

Author's Note: I loved the concept of this request immediately! The idea of trying to coordinate one of Joe's favs like Kid Cudi while keeping it from someone as observant as he is? Pure disaster potential. I chose the first dance route with "Teleport 2 Me" because the lyrics about wanting to be close despite distance felt perfect for them.

Thanks to the anon who requested this - hope it lived up to what you were imagining! 🤍 I'm slowly but surely working through them I promise.

✨ my masterlist ✨

💌 want to be tagged in future fics? join my taglist here 💫

🌙 ask box is open — come keep me company, i’m around tonight 💌

You pulled into the driveway at 10:47 PM, which was later than you'd told Joe you'd be home. Again. Every light in the house was on—porch lights, upstairs lights, the whole first floor lit up. Joe's way of letting you know he was awake and waiting without saying it.

Probably watching film.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Cudi's manager: Rehearsal tomorrow at 2. Can you make it?

Tomorrow Joe had meetings with his agent until 4, which meant you could easily make it and be home before he was. You typed back: I'll be there.

The front door opened before you could reach it.

"Long day?" Joe asked, stepping aside to let you in. His voice was casual, but you caught the way his eyes scanned your face, looking for something. Clues.

"The Kroger campaign is killing me," you said, which wasn't technically a lie. The Kroger campaign was killing you—it just wasn't why you'd been gone for twelve hours. "Sorry I'm so late."

Joe nodded, following you into the kitchen. "You eat?"

"Grabbed something at the office." Another lie. You'd eaten takeout at the recording studio while listening to Kid Cudi run through "Teleport 2 Me" for the third time, making sure it would be perfect for your first dance.

"You've never had to work Sundays before."

The comment was light, conversational, but you knew Joe well enough to hear the edge underneath. He was starting to notice patterns. Starting to ask the questions you'd been dreading.

"It's just until the wedding," you said, hating how easily the deflection came. "Then everything calms down."

Joe's laptop was open on the counter, some defensive scheme paused mid-play. He'd been waiting for you to get home. Had been waiting for hours.

"Come here," he said quietly.

You stepped closer, letting him pull you between his knees where he sat on the barstool. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

"You sure you're okay? You've been..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Pulling away lately."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. Three weeks of this secret had you jumping at shadows, and Joe's ability to read people like a book wasn't making it any easier.

"I'm not pulling away," you said quickly, reaching up to touch his face. "I'm just stressed about work and the wedding and trying to get everything perfect for us. I love you. I can't wait to marry you. It's just... a lot right now."

That got a small smile out of him, but his eyes stayed concerned.

"3 more days," he said, like he was trying to convince himself everything was normal.

* * *

You'd been at the venue for three hours, watching Kid Cudi run through the acoustic arrangement of "Teleport 2 Me" while his sound engineer adjusted levels for the reception space. Your phone had been buzzing periodically with texts from Joe, but you'd kept it on silent, location services turned off. The last thing you needed was him seeing you were at the wedding venue when you'd told him you were staying late at the office.

How's the Kroger campaign going?

Want me to pick up dinner?

Call me when you're wrapping up

Each message made your stomach twist a little tighter. Five days until the wedding, and you were running out of believable excuses for these long absences.

"I think we've got it," Cudi said, setting down his guitar. "The acoustic version's going to be perfect for the first dance."

You smiled, finally allowing yourself to feel excited instead of anxious. "He's going to lose his mind. He has no clue."

"Good. That's what we're going for." He grinned. "Man, I can't wait to see his reaction. This is gonna be special." He stood up, stretching. "Same time tomorrow for final soundcheck?"

Tomorrow's rehearsal was scheduled for 2 PM again, right when Joe would be at his final suit fitting. Another narrow window to coordinate around his schedule.

"I'll be there."

The drive home felt longer than usual, your mind already crafting explanations for why you'd been unreachable for the past hour. Traffic. Difficult client. Phone on silent during a presentation. All technically possible, none of them true.

Joe's car was in the garage when you pulled in.

"Hey," you called as you walked in, dropping your purse on the counter. "Sorry, that meeting ran forever."

Joe looked up from his laptop, where he appeared to be reviewing some kind of contract. "No problem. How'd it go?"

"Good. Finally got the creative approved." The lie came easily now, which should have bothered you more than it did. "What time did you get home?"

"Around six." He closed the laptop, giving you his full attention. "Your location's been off all day."

The statement was casual, conversational, but something in his tone made you freeze. You forced yourself to look confused, pulling out your phone.

"What? Let me check..." You tapped through to settings, pretending to investigate while your heart hammered. "That's weird."

Joe was already pulling up his phone, fingers moving across the screen with practiced ease. "It's back on now," he said, turning the screen toward you. There you were, a little dot on the map in your kitchen.

You stared at it for a beat too long before responding. "Huh. That's weird. I didn't turn it off. Must be a glitch."

"Must be," Joe agreed, but his eyes stayed on your face.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken questions. Joe had always been good at reading tells—it's what made him great at his position, the ability to see what defenses were really doing beneath the surface. And right now, you felt completely transparent.

"I'm going to shower," you said finally, needing to escape his analytical gaze.

"Yeah, okay." He reopened his laptop, but you could feel him watching as you headed toward the stairs.

In the bathroom, you leaned against the closed door and exhaled slowly. That had been close. Joe wasn't stupid, and he definitely wasn't the type to let inconsistencies slide without eventually asking direct questions.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Cudi's manager: Tomorrow's rehearsal moved to 1 PM. Still work for you?

You typed back quickly: Perfect. See you then.

One more day. One more lie. And then Joe would understand why you'd been so secretive, why you'd been pulling away, why you'd been turning your location off and coming home exhausted from "work meetings" that made no sense.

When you came back downstairs twenty minutes later, Joe was still at the counter, but his laptop was closed again. He looked up as you entered the kitchen, and something in his expression had shifted.

"Everything okay?" you asked, though you weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer.

"Yeah," he said, but his tone suggested otherwise. "Just thinking."

About what, you wanted to ask, but didn't. Because you were pretty sure you already knew.

Joe stood, moving toward you with that measured way he approached everything when he was processing information. His hands found your waist, thumbs brushing against your sides.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said quietly. "If something's going on, if you're stressed about the wedding or work or... if you're having second thoughts, we can cancel everything right now and just do something you and me. Whatever you need." The sincerity in his voice almost broke you. Here he was, offering you an out, a chance to come clean, and all you could do was lie to his face again.

"I know," you said, reaching up to touch his jaw. "I want this wedding, Joe. I want to marry you in front of everyone. It's just work stuff - I've been putting in extra hours because of all the time we're taking off for the honeymoon. I promise it'll calm down once we're back."

Joe nodded, but you could see he wasn't entirely convinced. His quarterback brain was filing away details, building a case, waiting for more evidence before making his move.

"Okay," he said simply, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I trust you."

The words hit like a punch to the chest. He trusted you, and you were lying to him 2 days before your wedding. For a good reason, but still lying.

"I love you," you said, meaning it more than you'd ever meant anything.

"I love you too."

But as he held you in the quiet kitchen, you could feel something shifting between you. A small crack in the foundation of trust you'd built together, one that you hoped would heal completely when he finally understood what you'd been doing.

2 more days. You just had to make it 2 more days.

* * *

You were running out of believable excuses, and Joe was running out of patience.

"I can come with you," he'd said that morning when you mentioned needing to run wedding errands. "Help carry stuff, keep you company."

The offer was sweet and completely normal, which made lying about it feel even worse.

"I'm just getting my nails done baby" you'd said quickly. "Rumi is coming with me. Girl time, you know?"

Joe had nodded, but something in his expression suggested he was filing that information away with all the other inconsistencies he'd been cataloging.

Now you were pulling into the driveway after three and a half hours at the venue, coordinating final details with Kid Cudi and his team. Your phone showed two missed texts from Joe:

Nails taking forever?

You good?

You'd responded with vague reassurances about the salon being busy, but as you walked toward the front door, you realized your hands looked exactly the same as when you'd left that morning.

Joe was in the kitchen when you walked in, laptop closed in front of him, arms crossed. The posture of someone who'd been thinking.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Good. They were super busy, but Rumi and I got to catch up." The lie felt heavier each time you told one. "Sorry it took so long."

Joe's eyes dropped to your hands, taking in your unchanged manicure with the same analytical precision he used to read defensive formations.

"It doesn't take three and a half hours to get your fucking nails done."

The statement hung between you, sharp and pointed. You looked down at your hands, realizing too late that your excuse had fallen apart before you'd even made it through the door.

"They were really backed up," you said weakly. "And we grabbed lunch after."

"Your nails look exactly the same as they did this morning."

There was frustration in his voice, that quiet anger that meant he was putting pieces together and didn't like what he was finding. You could practically see him building his case, the same way he processed information on the field.

Your phone rang before you could respond, Kid Cudi's manager's name flashing on the screen. The timing couldn't have been worse.

"I should take this," you said, already moving toward the sliding door to the backyard.

"At 8 PM? The night before our wedding?"

You were already outside, pressing accept before Joe could ask any more questions.

"Hey, Dennis," you said quietly, glancing back toward the house. Joe was still visible through the glass, watching.

"Just wanted to confirm timing for tomorrow," Dennis said. "Cudi will be there at six for final sound check. We've got the acoustic guitar ready, and he knows to stay hidden until the DJ calls him out."

"Perfect," you whispered, turning away from the house. "And he remembers—"

"Make sure Joe can't know until the moment, yeah. We've kept it secret this long, we're not blowing it now."

Relief flooded through you. Tomorrow night, all of this secrecy would finally make sense. Joe would understand why you'd been pulling away, why you'd been lying, why you'd been—

The sliding door opened behind you.

"I have to go," you said quickly, ending the call.

Joe was standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable in the dim porch light.

"Work call?" he asked as you walked back inside.

"Yeah, just... client thing."

"At eight PM. The night before our wedding." His voice was still level, but you could hear the edge creeping in. "About someone who can't know what?"

Your stomach dropped. "What?"

"I heard you. 'Make sure he can't know until...' and something about keeping secrets." Joe closed the sliding door behind you, his movements deliberate. "Who is 'he'? And what have you been keeping secret?"

The kitchen suddenly felt too small, the walls closing in as Joe's pale blue eyes stayed fixed on your face. This was it. The moment you'd been dreading for three weeks.

"It's not what you think—"

"Then tell me what it is." He stepped closer, and you could see the hurt starting to break through his controlled exterior. "Because from where I'm standing, my fiancée has been lying to me for weeks. Disappearing for hours, turning her location off, taking mysterious calls about keeping secrets from some guy."

"Joe—"

"You said you were getting your nails done, but they look exactly the same. You've been 'working late' every night for two weeks. Your location's been off more times than I can count." His voice was getting quieter, more controlled, which somehow made it worse. "So help me understand what I'm missing here."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Every instinct screamed to tell him the truth, to end this nightmare and explain everything. But tomorrow was your wedding day. Tomorrow night, when Kid Cudi walked out with his guitar, Joe would understand. You just had to make it eighteen more hours.

"I can't," you said finally.

"You can't." Joe repeated the words like he was testing how they sounded. "You can't tell your fiancé what you've been doing or who you've been talking to."

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?" The hurt was fully visible now, cutting through his usual composure. "Because I'm running out of explanations that don't involve you seeing someone else."

The accusation hit like a physical blow. "How can you say that? How can you think that about me?"

"What am I supposed to think?" Joe's voice cracked slightly. "You disappear for hours with bullshit excuses. You're taking secret calls about some guy who can't know something. You won't tell me what's going on." He ran a hand through his hair, the first sign of his legendary control slipping. "If you're having second thoughts about us, about the wedding, just tell me. Don't... don't do this."

"I'm not having second thoughts." The words came out fierce, desperate. "I love you. I want to marry you tomorrow more than I've ever wanted anything."

"Then tell me what's going on."

You stared at him, this man you loved more than breathing, watching him break apart because of your lies. Every fiber of your being wanted to explain, to take away the pain in his eyes, to make him understand that everything you'd done was for him.

"I can't," you whispered again.

Something shifted in Joe's expression then, shutting down like a computer going into safe mode. The hurt was still there, but buried under layers of protection.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I guess I'll figure it out eventually."

He moved past you toward the stairs, his shoulder brushing yours in the narrow space.

"Joe, wait—"

"I'm sleeping in the guest room tonight," he said without turning around. "And if there's someone else... if that's what this is... don't make me stand up there tomorrow. Just tell me now."

You listened to his footsteps on the stairs, heard the guest room door close with a soft click. The kitchen fell silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of your heart breaking.

Eighteen more hours. You just had to survive eighteen more hours, and then he'd understand. Then he'd know that every lie, every secret, every moment of distance had been because you loved him so much you were willing to risk everything to give him something perfect.

* * *

You didn't see Joe until you were walking down the aisle.

The morning had been a whirlwind of hair and makeup and your sister fussing over the bustle of your dress, everyone too busy to notice that you kept checking your phone for updates from Kid Cudi's team. The ceremony was at four, reception at six, and Cudi had already done his sound check that morning while you were getting ready. Everything was falling into place exactly as you'd planned for three weeks.

But first, you had to marry Joe.

When the music started and the doors opened, revealing the intimate garden ceremony you'd dreamed about, your breath caught. There he was, standing at the altar in his perfectly tailored navy suit, hands clasped in front of him, looking like he'd stepped out of a magazine. But it was his face that made your chest tighten.

The moment he saw you, everything shifted. The careful distance from this morning, the hurt from last night—all of it dissolved as his expression transformed into something soft and wondering. This was the Joe you'd fallen in love with, the one who looked at you like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Your dad squeezed your arm as you reached the altar. "He's a good one," he whispered, placing your hand in Joe's.

"Hi," Joe said quietly, just for you, that slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Hi," you whispered back, and suddenly everything else faded away.

The ceremony passed in a blur of joy and laughter and tears. When it came time for vows, Joe's voice was steady and sure as he promised to love you through everything life threw at you, to be your constant in an unpredictable world, to choose you every single day for the rest of his life.

When you promised to be his safe place, his teammate, his biggest supporter, you meant every word. Even if you'd been lying to him for three weeks, even if he'd questioned everything last night, this moment was pure truth.

"You may kiss your bride."

Joe's hands framed your face as he kissed you, soft and reverent, and the small crowd erupted in cheers. When you broke apart, he pressed his forehead to yours.

"We did it," he murmured.

"We did it," you agreed, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt.

"I love you so much," he whispered, just for you, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," you whispered back, and he kissed you again, softer this time.

The cocktail hour flew by in a haze of congratulations and photos and champagne. You caught Joe watching you during pictures, that little furrow between his brows that meant he was thinking.

"You okay?" you asked during a brief moment alone while the photographer adjusted lighting.

"Yeah," he said, reaching for your hand. "About last night—"

"After," you said quickly, squeezing his fingers. "Let's just enjoy this, okay? We'll talk about everything after."

Joe studied your face for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. But we are going to talk."

"I know. I promise."

Dinner passed in a blur of toasts and laughter and the best food you'd ever tasted. Joe seemed more relaxed as the evening went on, falling back into his usual rhythm of dry jokes and quiet observations that made you laugh until your sides hurt. This was your husband now. Your husband, who had no idea what was coming.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the DJ's voice cut through the gentle chatter of your sixty guests, "it's time for our newlyweds' first dance."

This was it.

Joe stood immediately, extending his hand with that easy confidence that made everything look effortless. "Ready, Mrs. Burrow?"

The name still sent a thrill through you. "I'm ready, Mr. Burrow."

He led you to the center of the dance floor, his hand finding its familiar place at the small of your back, the other intertwining your fingers. Around you, chairs scraped as guests turned to watch, phones already appearing to capture the moment.

"Just like we practiced," Joe murmured, that slight smile playing at his lips. "Try not to step on my feet."

"That was one time," you protested, laughing despite your nerves.

"It was more than three," he corrected, grinning.

The familiar banter steadied you, reminded you why this surprise would be perfect. Joe had no idea that his favorite artist was about to walk out and perform the song that had gotten you both through so many late nights and long separations.

"Before we begin," the DJ announced, "the bride has a very special surprise for her new husband."

Joe's hand tightened reflexively around yours, confusion flickering across his features. "What—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Kid Cudi."

The words seemed to hang in the air for a split second before Joe's expression shifted from confusion to complete shock. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again, his eyes widening as he stared at you like you'd just performed actual magic.

From the side of the reception space, Kid Cudi emerged with an acoustic guitar, moving toward the simple stool and microphone setup that had appeared during dinner. The intimate crowd erupted in surprised murmurs and scattered applause, but Joe didn't seem to hear any of it.

He was staring at you like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"You didn't," he breathed, voice barely audible over the growing excitement from your guests.

"I did," you whispered, watching his face cycle through shock, understanding, and something that looked close to tears.

Kid Cudi settled onto the stool, adjusting the guitar across his lap. When he spoke into the microphone, his voice was warm and genuine: "This is for Joe and his beautiful wife Y/N. Congratulations, man."

Joe's composure—that legendary calm that stayed intact under fourth-quarter pressure—finally cracked. His jaw worked for a moment like he was trying to find words that didn't exist, his hand squeezing yours tighter like he needed to feel something real.

"All those late nights," he said slowly, pieces clicking into place with almost audible precision. "The meetings that didn't make sense. Your location being off."

You nodded, thumb tracing over his knuckles. "I really hated lying to you."

"All those meetings." His voice carried that quiet amazement he got when he finally understood how a play was designed to work. "You were planning this with him."

"For weeks," you confirmed. "Planning this. Making sure it was perfect."

The opening guitar notes of "Teleport 2 Me" filled the space, gentle and acoustic and impossibly intimate. When Cudi's voice joined the melody, singing the words that had meant everything to you both —

Gettin in from the airport

You're gettin in from your study group

The only thing missing at this point is bonafide chillin time with you

Joe's carefully controlled expression finally shattered completely.

"Baby," he managed, voice thick with emotion. "You brought him here. For us."

"Don't cry at our wedding," you whispered, reaching up to catch the tear before it fell, even though your own eyes were burning.

He laughed, the sound watery and incredulous. "Don't cry? You coordinated with Kid Cudi to sing our song at our wedding. I think crying is pretty reasonable right now."

You started to sway as the music swelled, Joe pulling you closer than you'd practiced, needing you against him while he processed the magnitude of what you'd done. Cudi's voice wrapped around you:

I want you girl and I need your body right here

Won't you teleport to me

I want you girl and I need your body right here

Won't you teleport to me

"This song," Joe murmured against your temple, "when I first played it for you..."

"When you were in Miami for a game," you finished. "And you said you wished you could just teleport home to me."

"I can't believe you remembered that. I can't believe you did this."

"I remember everything about you, Joe Burrow."

As the song continued, Joe caught sight of your families watching. His mom was crying, his dad had that proud smile he wore during big games. Your parents looked stunned and delighted. But mostly, he was aware of this moment—of Cudi singing —

A moment of loneliness and I can't close my eyes

Without you by my side

While he held his wife, finally understanding why you'd been so stressed, so secretive, so careful about keeping this surprise intact.

"I thought..." Joe started, then stopped, jaw tightening slightly.

"What?" you asked, pulling back to see his face properly.

"Last night, I thought you were..." He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't even say the words out loud now that he knew the truth.

Your heart broke a little. "Joe, no. Never. This—" you gestured subtly toward Cudi, toward the impossibility of what you'd pulled off "—this is how much I love you."

When the song reached its emotional peak—

Hey, hey

Teleport to me

Right here

Won't you teleport to me baby

Joe spun you gently, bringing you back against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said into your ear, voice rough with emotion. "I'm so sorry I doubted you."

"You had every reason to," you replied. "I was being shady as hell."

"For this," he said, like he still couldn't quite believe it. "You were being shady to surprise me with Kid Cudi at our wedding."

"Worth it?" you asked as the song began to wind down.

Joe's answer was the way he kissed you—soft, grateful, overwhelmed—while their families and friends exploded into applause around them.

"So worth it," he murmured against your lips. "Best surprise of my life."

As the guitar notes faded into silence, Joe looked toward Kid Cudi, who was standing from the stool. Without hesitation, Joe crossed the few steps to him, pulling him into a genuine embrace.

"Thank you," Joe said, and everyone close enough could hear the emotion in his voice. "That was... thank you."

"Your wife's pretty special," Cudi replied, grinning. "She's been planning this for months. Wouldn't let me mess up a single detail."

Joe looked back at you, still standing in the middle of the dance floor, watching him with that soft smile that had made him fall in love with you in the first place.

"Yeah," he said, voice carrying that quiet certainty that defined everything important in his life. "She really is."

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fluff #nfl fanfic #nfl fan fic #nfl fanfiction #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #nfl smut #nfl x reader #joe burrow x you #nfl x you #Spotify

117 notes · View notes

enjakey · 13 hours ago

Text

Chapter 0- prologue; the beginning of the end

THE CERTAIN ROMANCE OF WINGS AND WAR

next chapter- coming soon (6th July, 2025)

PAIRING: [DAD!JAKE SIM x FEM!READER]!MAFIA AU

TW/N: 13.4K- Mafia au | soulmates au | angel/devil wings au | childhood best friends au | frenemies au | I didn’t know I loved you until I lost you | eloping/running away | family friends au | found family au | cheating, blood, drugs, mentions of sex, alcohol, lots of cussing, mentions of murder, guns, therapy, trauma, abandoning children, adoption care, estranged families, physical abuse, anger issues, characters make terrible decisions, some characters have sexual relations but not romantic, mentions of a lot of fucking each other over (betrayal), can't trust anyone.

SUMMARY: in a world where people grow wings when they fall in love, Jake believed he’d found his perfect match- until the woman he trusted vanished, leaving betrayal in her wake and revealing love as merely a tactic in her game. He was head of his powerful mafia family, Jake leads alongside Sunghoon, with Jungwon and Niki as his loyal muscle, and remains tied legacy to Y/N’s family, co-founders of their criminal empire. But their seemingly unshakable world collapses when Jake’s misplaced trust ignites a hidden war, culminating in the death of a close member- a loss that fractures alliances and leaves scars stretching across cities and time. And amid the chaos, Jake is left raising his daughter alone.

SERIES MASTERLIST I MASTERLIST

“I don’t like this.”

It was probably the tenth, maybe hundredth time David had mumbled that under his breath that night. Whiskey in his hand, a knife stabbed on the table in front of him and a towering golden chandelier over his head- all his attention was on his oldest son sitting across from him, an uninterested expression on his face. He sat cross legged, fingers intertwined on his knee, staring back at him with raised brows, as if asking him “anything else?”

Jake was David’s adopted son- adopted, but still his son. He was the oldest of four- after him was Sunghoon, then Jungwon, then Niki, the youngest. David wasn’t sure how he and Helen came to the decision of adoption- perhaps it was the fact that they were getting old and conceiving was a risk, perhaps their family doctor advised against it, and perhaps it was because surrogacy involved trusting unknown people too closely.

David still remembered the day he brought Jake home from that godforsaken, rundown orphanage. He’d sulked all day because he was separated from his best friend, hugged onto a raggedy stuffed toy of a dog while Helen tried to feed him and refused to go to school for the first few months until David threatened to take away his stuffed dog until he went. He even introduced him to his best friend’s children, Y/N and Jay, but even they couldn’t properly get him out of his shell.

A year later, they adopted Jake’s best friend- Sunghoon.

And with him, Jake had turned into the man he was now. A boy once so innocent grew up to be the man David chose to pass down the family business to. Over the years of watching him grow up, Jake had done plenty of stupid things- breaking ceramics as a toddler, vandalising school walls with Sunghoon at the brink of teenage rebellion and introducing alcohol to his younger brothers, Jungwon and Niki, who the family had adopted much later, to alcohol when they were just in middle school.

But this- this would be the first thing that would make David regret passing down his life’s work to Jake. The mafia, the mob, the one thing that kept their family afloat.

And Jake was on the verge of botching everything- all over the wings attached to his back.

Jake Sim was many things- hot headed, impulsive perhaps, sharp-tongued and loyal. But above all that, he was stupidly, hopelessly and blindly in love with a girl he wasn’t supposed to be with.

“Just because you have wings, doesn’t mean she won’t fuck you over,” David continued. “Love doesn’t rule all. Especially not your Emily.”

“And how would you know that?” Jake challenged.

The black feathers on David’s wings ruffled and the whiskey in his hand rippled as he shook. “Your mom’s gonna be here soon,” he mumbled. “Watch your damn tongue.”

“At least she likes Emily,” Jake continued. “You didn’t even give her a chance.”

“You’ve known her a year, Jake,” David barked. “And you’ve already kicked your brothers out of the house because she wanted to live alone with you. You’ve followed her like a damn dog. And now you’ve gone and gotten her fucking pregnant, are you joking?”

“Like it or not, dad,” Jake’s tongue dripped with venom. “You’re gonna be a grandfather. And she’s gonna be family.”

“I think you forget who's in charge sometimes,” David was pointing fingers now, straight between Jake’s brows. But he didn’t move an inch, didn’t flinch. “She isn’t family until I say so.”

“You know, she’s upstairs, right?” Jake puffed air through his nostrils. “She can hear you.”

“Let her,” David dared. “You’re going to regret this, Jake.”

“She’s pregnant with my child, dad,” Jake’s confidence in Emily didn’t seem to waver. “I don’t think she’s going anywhere.”

As thunder cracked and the first few drops of rain of the night started to fall, the french windows of the dining room swung open and Helen came flying through it. Her expansive white wings folded behind her and David stood at the sight of her. His black wings spread open to embrace her and Jake simply watched their interaction- their wings a symbol of their love, their affection a sign of their devotion.

Jake and Emily had wings to match. Jake grew them in black; Emily in white. They, too, were a symbol of their unwavering love and loyalty for one another. And Jake believed it- because the world taught him to, and because his parents taught him to. They were the happiest couple he knew, the only lasting relationship he’d watched growing up.

So he couldn’t understand the resistance- how they failed to see what he saw, especially after love had already claimed them.

“I think you should listen to your dad, Jake,” as David returned to his previous seat, Helen sat beside him and reached over the table for Jake’s hands. He met her in the middle- out of instinct, out of respect. “We want what’s best for you.”

Despite the warmth in her voice and the softness in her voice, Jake retreated his hands and scoffed. “Are you not hearing me?” He was frustrated now, voice straining against his throat “She’s pregnant. She’s giving birth in a month. You sound insane.”

“You shouldn’t have let it come this far in the first place,” David spat. And he was about to continue, but Helen’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“But it has gotten this far,” Helen looked at Jake again. “Honey, I’m not saying I like what’s happening here-”

“But-”

“No,” Helen raised her hand- and it was enough for Jake to shut his mouth and sit back in his chair. All that he wanted to protest was clogged in his throat. “We’ve warned you, did everything we could. You’ve disappointed your family and your friends. And they’re still standing by you. So when something goes south- God forbid, if anything bad happens, all I can hope is that you’ll learn your lesson.”

“If,” Jake corrected. “If anything goes south. And it won’t-”

“I can promise you,” David interjected. “It will. And you better clean everything up when it does. Because you’ve got a name to uphold, a business to keep and a village full of mouths to feed.”

Jake couldn’t say anything else.

He wanted to- he wanted to yell at his father, destroy his ego, remind him who was in charge of the business now despite everything. But he and his mother were out the door, an umbrella over their head and wings folded tightly behind their backs as they got in the car. And Jake listened as the car drove away- wheels against wet road and headlights circling the compound until they disappeared into the night.

Jake climbed upstairs, the black feathers of his wings ruffling against his back as he rolled his shoulders.

The white of his bedroom door stared back at him- like it had something to say. Like it was reminding him of all the things he should be remembering and all the things he should be reminded of. Like it was warning him to not open it.

But he did anyway, of course he did.

His pregnant fiance was waiting for him in his bed, her hair strewn across the pillow in a mess and her tired eye peeking out from under the duvet.

The mere sight of her made him smile.

Jake waddled closer to her, guilt sinking in after all the crap his father had spewed about Emily just minutes ago. She must’ve heard it- all of it. It wasn’t like they’d been quiet. They’d screamed at each other until his mother had rushed in to split them apart.

Emily lay still on the bed, her long hair spread across the pillow, her hands resting over the curve of her stomach.

She didn’t move. But he could tell she was awake.

To her, Jake looked like a lost puppy- an odd sight, one only she ever got to see. This was a mobster. A man who had command over empires built on fear. A man with wings as dark as midnight, stretched and restless behind him. And yet, with her, he turned soft- fragile even.

He gave her access to a side of himself he didn’t let anyone, not even himself, look too closely at.

Emily didn’t know if she should be scared... or honoured.

"Did you hear everything?" Jake sighed, leaning his side against the headboard.

Emily exhaled too, eyes shutting for a moment like the sound exhausted her. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. He knew she had.

"I'm sorry about what he said," he mumbled, almost ashamed.

She only nodded, her white wings loosely wrapped around her like a shield. Moonlight caught in her opal eyes, turning them silver.

"He just doesn't get it," Jake muttered, frustration brewing. "This whole bullshit idea he has about us and our wings. I don’t get it," he growled, fingers dragging through his hair, his voice low and rough.

"It doesn't matter, Jake. It’s not like we chose for the world to be this way," Emily replied, her voice tired. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, to tell him to leave outright. All she wanted was silence- space to think. No one else’s opinion. No more emotions clouding hers.

"It does matter," he snapped back, noticing her tone but refusing to let go. When she groaned and turned away, her back facing him, Jake stilled.

"Jake, let it go," she pleaded, barely above a whisper.

He blinked, arms crossing slowly. He waited. But she didn’t say more.

She didn’t understand how something that slid off her like water seemed to sit on his skin like fire.

"Don’t you have plans with your brothers or something?" She asked, eyes still shut.

Jake nodded. "Yeah." He paused. "I should go then."

But he didn’t move. He stood there, head tilted toward her, dark wings lightly rustling behind him. He looked at her- her glowing face, her dark hair tangled in moonlight, her white wings curled protectively around the new life growing inside her.

She didn’t say anything. She knew why he hadn’t moved. She also knew she wouldn’t ask him to stay.

She just turned away. Let the moonlight wash her in quiet, and felt Jake breathe a heavy sigh.

"I’ll be back soon," he said softly.

Emily hummed in response- gentle, detached.

"I love you."

Then he left the room. And she didn’t say it back.

Pink, purple, and blue- those were the only colours Niki could see at that moment. They bled into each other like ink in water, soft and violent all at once. A blunt hung between his split lips, the taste of iron and ash mixing as white smoke coiled from the burning end. He pulled in a slow, greedy breath, lungs stretching with the bitter weight of burnt cannabis. His eyes drifted shut for a heartbeat, then fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.

For a second, everything sharpened. Every sound, every flicker of movement, every shift of light surged into overdrive. It was like floating in the grey space between real and unreal- where nothing hurt, but everything hummed. That sweet, silent moment was what he’d been chasing all along.

Niki didn’t feel his lips curl into a fractured, almost psychotic smile. He didn’t feel the sharp sting of the gash running across his lower lip. For that single second, everything- pain, shame, noise- faded.

And then it all came crashing back.

So, he took another drag- desperate to escape again, desperate to fall back into that grey fog.

Across from him, Sunghoon sat slouched against a cracked wall, the dim light of his phone screen casting faint shadows over his tired features. He was half-scrolling, half-scowling- thumb moving, mind elsewhere. With a sigh, he rubbed his hand through his coarse, dark hair, and glanced up through heavy lashes at Niki.

He watched the way Niki’s lips twitched- up and down, up and down- unbothered by the raw tear that split them. The same tear he’d gotten just minutes earlier in a brawl with a bartender who told them to leave.

Sunghoon had known it was a bad idea the second Niki suggested sneaking into a basement of a rundown apartment in the middle of the night. Especially with less than six hours before they were due to meet Jake. He’d tried talking Niki out of it, had even dragged him by the arm. But Niki- reckless, relentless, numb- was too far gone to care.

Still, Sunghoon had bailed him out of the fight. A wad of cash and a flash of cold steel were enough to shut things down and enough to get Niki his fix.

He didn’t get it. None of it. He didn’t understand what it was that kept pulling Niki back to this- to smoke-stained walls and half-used blunts, to chemical highs and self-inflicted ruin. He especially didn’t understand how Jake kept enabling it. Letting him burn through stacks of money just to destroy himself.

Sunghoon wasn’t the only one who’d tried talking to Niki. Everyone had. Niki was a slow implosion, and he didn’t even see it happening. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.

Niki always brushed it off. Said he just wanted to live a little, try new things, feel alive, have fun. He never called it what it really was- an addiction. And that was the problem.

In trying to outrun the feeling of failure, of being the brother who couldn’t be depended on, of being the one who kept letting his family down… Niki found drugs.

Or maybe, drugs found him.

You see, Niki wasn’t just hurt by the crushing sense that he was a train wreck- he was disappointed in himself for failing at even the simplest things expected of him. He couldn’t be there for his brother, Jungwon. He couldn’t be the anchor Jungwon needed, the one reason to feel like he had a purpose to keep living.

He was a fuck-up. A mistake in his family, to put it bluntly- and he kept proving himself right, over and over again. Sometimes he wondered if David ever regretted adopting him.

And sometimes, in the quieter moments when the high wore off, Niki thought maybe he was the one who should’ve gone to therapy… instead of Jungwon.

Y/N once told him that Jake wouldn’t have kept him around if he thought he was useless. As the heir to their legacy, Jake had to make choices that served the business- and he’d chosen to let Niki stay.

It made sense, for a while. Until Niki realised that Jake only kept him close out of pity. He kept him out of guilt, out of duty. Because they were all adopted into the same family, stitched together by circumstance and name, raised to believe that family loyalty trumped everything- even personal happiness.

Niki felt like a burden, an obligation people carried rather than someone they genuinely wanted in their lives. It gnawed at the rawest parts of him, whispering that he was nothing more than a placeholder, a charity case- someone tolerated because it would be cruel to cast him out.

The thought punched into his chest every time it surfaced, leaving a hollow ache in his ribs. His fingers tightened around the blunt in his hand, resin sticky against his skin, the acrid smell of burnt cannabis mixing with the faint copper tang of blood from his split lip.

Opposite him, Sunghoon watched with dark eyes sharp and shining under the flickering basement light. He couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes, or the way his jaw kept clenching, muscles jumping like electric currents beneath his skin. There was disappointment written all over him- etched into the tight lines around his mouth and the wide stare that seemed to plead, Who are you right now? This wasn’t the Niki he’d once skipped classes with, laughing in alleyways. This wasn’t the man who’d sat beside him during late-night stakeouts, steady and alert.

No- this was someone Sunghoon barely recognised.

Niki wasn’t sober- he hadn’t been for a really long time. Sunghoon knew it. And deep down, he knew he was screaming into a void trying to reach him like this.

“Niki,” his voice cracked around the name, thick with frustration and something heartbreakingly close to grief. A vein pulsed hard along his neck as he squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to swallow the anger boiling in his chest. When he opened them again, they glistened under the harsh fluorescent glare. “We should go now.”

“So soon?” Niki’s voice came out small, almost childlike- a five-year-old begging to stay at the park a few minutes longer. The sound of it made his own skin crawl with embarrassment. Yet seconds later, the child vanished, replaced by a sick grin twisting across his bruised face. His eyes locked onto Sunghoon’s, wide and desperate, silently pleading- just a little longer. Let me stay in this haze.

“No,” was all Sunghoon could force out. He moved suddenly, snatching the blunt from Niki’s fingers and flicking it to the concrete floor. Without hesitation, he crushed it under the heavy heel of his leather boot, grinding ash and ember into dust.

Niki swore violently, the words raw and bitter as he stared at the crumpled remains of the blunt. His brows knitted together in fury. He slammed both palms flat against the rickety table between them, leaning forward until his eyes were boring into Sunghoon’s. “What the hell? I wasn’t done with that!” Niki snapped, cocking his head to the side, neck straining against the tension coursing through him. His eyes were sharp and venomous, refusing to soften.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re stoned enough,” Sunghoon retorted, arms crossing over his chest. The thin fabric of his shirt pulled tight around his shoulders as his muscles tensed.

“I don’t give a shit,” Niki hissed, flinging his arms out in a theatrical gesture that nearly knocked over an empty bottle beside him. The look on Sunghoon’s face- tight-lipped, jaw clenched- only infuriated him further. “Why do you want to see Jake so fucking badly anyway?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, as though mocking the entire premise.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. He let out a huff that trembled with restrained anger. “We haven’t seen him in months,” he shot back, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world. His gaze swept over Niki from head to toe like he was trying to assess whether he was even worth arguing with. “And we all agreed to meet up tonight. He wants you there, too.”

Niki threw his head back and let out a harsh, barking laugh. It echoed off the concrete walls, sharp and hollow. His shoulders hunched toward his ears, neck veins taut as he squeezed his eyes shut in amusement. But behind the laughter, there was a darkness- an exhaustion that even he couldn’t quite laugh away.

Though he’d never said it out loud, Niki always knew that Sunghoon’s loyalty to Jake ran deeper than mere brotherhood. They liked to call themselves best friends, but Niki suspected that in the end, Sunghoon was Jake’s right-hand man- someone who would do the dirty work, who would bleed on command.

Jake always denied that dynamic, swearing they were equals. Only Sunghoon truly knew how much Jake cared beneath the layers of ruthless ambition and silent masks. They claimed they’d do anything for each other, and for a while, Niki had believed it- it was hard not to, given the bond they shared.

Only Jake and Sunghoon knew the full story of what they’d survived in the orphanage where they’d grown up. It was different from where Niki and Jungwon grew up. From the fragments they had managed to piece together, the place had been notorious for its violence and cruelty. Their so-called home was run by a warden who beat them for the smallest infractions, starved them until they passed out, and sometimes used them for his own twisted pleasure. Children died in those walls- unnoticed, unreported, discarded as if they’d never existed.

But Jake and Sunghoon never revealed the whole truth. Whatever horrors they’d endured, they’d sealed it away behind a vow of silence, keeping the worst of it just between them. Niki suspected that trauma was the glue binding them even now- two boys turned men, forged together in pain. Perhaps it was those scars that made them who they were- dangerous, secretive, and utterly loyal to each other above all else.

Years later, after being adopted by David and Helen, Jake and Sunghoon grew old enough- and powerful enough- to go back and take revenge. They returned to that orphanage and killed the people who’d tormented them. They’d freed the children still trapped inside and burned the building to ashes. The police never came, no news outlets reported the fire, the entire massacre was buried in silence, swept under the rug like so many things in this family’s world.

And to this day, it remained another secret in a life already built on them.

“Are you scared of him?” Niki leaned forward, voice quiet and tinged with accusation.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink. “I’m not in the mood to argue with you right now. You’re stoned. Let’s not ruin my night. Can we just go?” His voice was strained, eyes hardened with the kind of exhaustion born from caring for someone who kept choosing to self-destruct.

“I don’t get why you always try to save my ass and hide it behind all that anger,” Niki said, rolling his eyes, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“Because I choose to,” Sunghoon snapped back, voice taut as piano wire. “And because my ego’s too fucking big to let you die in a basement.”

Niki sighed, shoulders sagging as he dragged a hand through his hair. His fingers began fidgeting, weaving around each other in restless patterns- a nervous habit he’d had since he was a kid.

His thumb found the familiar ridges of his tattoo, tracing the tiny swirls etched into the side of his index finger. The delicate lines formed the shape of a dove- small enough to hide, yet impossible to forget. Touching it always helped settle the roaring chaos inside him, a silent ritual he’d developed after years of bottling up his fury and fear.

“What’s the tattoo mean?” people always asked. Friends. Family. Strangers in line at coffee shops.

Niki never had the guts to admit the truth- to them or himself. Because he was afraid- of too many things, in fact. Afraid of what growing wings might mean, of love, of soulmates, of the idea that something so fragile could ruin him entirely.

“Are we getting Jungwon and Y/N on the way, too?” Niki asked quietly, eyes drifting to the ground as they finally left the dank basement.

Sunghoon gave him a curt nod and motioned toward the car waiting outside.

Sitting in a room bathed in stark white tube light, surrounded by shelves groaning under psychology books and the faint scent of sandalwood from an oil diffuser- that had become part of Jungwon’s routine. The same sterile white walls, the same plush therapy couch, the same soft, looping music drifting through hidden speakers. He sometimes joked to himself that he could practically earn a psychology degree after all the hours he’d logged in therapy.

Tonight, he perched on the edge of the couch, restless. His fingers twisted around each other, joints clicking softly while his mind shouted a thousand different accusations at him. He couldn’t find a comfortable way to sit, his posture hunched forward as though bracing for a punch. Across from him, Alice, his therapist- a young PhD graduate still finding her footing- watched him with patient eyes.

“You can’t possibly be that hard on yourself,” her voice was gentle but edged with exasperation. Her dark curls bounced as she stepped around her desk and hoisted herself up to sit on it, crossing her legs so that the white heels dangling from her feet hovered inches from Jungwon’s knees.

“I can’t help it,” Jungwon muttered, glancing up to meet her eyes- deep brown, warm as melted chocolate, eyes that always seemed to see straight through him. He watched the way she pulled her lips to the side, biting the inside of her cheek as though weighing her next words carefully.

“Do you have a reason for being so hard on yourself?” She asked, tilting her head slightly. Under the harsh lights, her toffee-colored skin glowed, her freckles standing out like constellations scattered across a night sky.

Jungwon bit his lower lip, tore his gaze away, then darted back to her face. Slowly, he shook his head, though the truth bubbled up in him anyway.

“Guilt, I guess,” his voice came out softer than he intended, eyes scanning the room as if hoping for a distraction.

He didn’t even need to think before answering. There was no point in sitting there in silence like so many people did during therapy. Alice had practically begged him to open up after he’d first explained his situation months ago. And maybe that’s why he kept coming back- because even when he felt utterly worthless, she still seemed to accept him. And that made him dangerously drawn to her.

“Guilt for what?” Alice pressed gently, shifting the hem of her sun-dress and letting her heels tap a staccato rhythm against the wooden desk.

“For not trusting Niki.” Jungwon let out a half-choked laugh, though the humor fell flat. His voice cracked with fatigue. “It sounds so stupid, I know. But I feel like… like I should trust him more.”

It was probably the hundredth time he’d uttered the same confession, trying to make her understand. But somehow, it felt like no one ever truly could.

Niki always expected Jungwon to confide in him- to spill every secret, every anxiety, every fear without hesitation. It was supposed to be simple, trusting someone you’d practically grown up with, someone who’d been a brother in everything but blood. But for Jungwon, it wasn’t simple at all.

Niki was always disappearing into whatever job Jake threw at him, and afterward, he’d vanish into warehouses and basements, getting stoned until his eyes turned glassy.

Jungwon tried, he really did. But it was hard when even Jake seemed to pity him, dismissing him as too gentle, too soft, too good for their world. His own self-isolation only made the chasm wider.

Maybe that was what had driven him to antidepressants.

“Jungwon, you don’t have to tell Niki everything happening in your life,” Alice said, her brow creasing as she tried again to break through his walls.

But Jungwon shook his head, just as he always did.

“He wants me to trust him,” he said, voice nearly a whisper. “He thinks the reason he’s… messing himself up is because we don’t trust him. He feels like he’s not trustworthy. And I just… I can’t stand watching him hate himself for it.”

Alice clicked her tongue in gentle sympathy, running her fingers through her curls. “Then you have to talk to him about this, too,” her eyes were wide, earnest, waiting for him to agree.

Jungwon slumped backward on the couch, arms crossing tightly over his chest. He seemed to fold in on himself, as though trying to shrink from the conversation. His eyes glinted under the fluorescent lights, hard and unyielding. “What are you getting at?”

“Things could get easier if you talked to him,” Alice said firmly, leaning forward as though trying to pull him closer by sheer willpower. She licked her lips, her voice softening.

Jungwon held her gaze for a long, silent beat. Then he let out a low chuckle, biting his lip as he recognized the frustration simmering beneath her kind eyes. He found himself almost amused by how she kept her cool- even after thirty minutes of running in circles with him.

It was the same conversation nearly every session. Same problem, same sentences bouncing back and forth. But a small part of Jungwon cherished how willing she was to repeat herself endlessly, as if sheer persistence might someday fix him. Perhaps that was what drew him so powerfully to her- her stubborn selflessness.

“I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?” Jungwon shot back, blinking rapidly as he tried to soften his words with a teasing smile.

Alice groaned, tipping her head back and covering her face with her hand. Jungwon knew she probably wanted to tell him how exhausting he was- but she never said it.

“I don’t get what answer you want from me,” he said after the silence stretched thin.

Alice lowered her hand, her eyes blazing with a mix of irritation and tenderness. “It’s not about the answer I want,” she said, gesturing animatedly as though trying to carve the truth into the air. “It’s about the answer you need to give yourself.”

Jungwon stared at her, chest rising and falling, and for a brief second, the message landed. What was the answer he needed to give himself? What did he need to accept?

He shook his head, exhaling heavily, a groan rattling in his throat. “What answer do I need to give myself?” He mumbled, though the question felt more like it was meant for the empty space between them than for her.

Alice opened her mouth, ready to answer, but stopped. Instead, she wrinkled her nose in a tiny smile, freckles disappearing into the lines of her expression before reappearing. “You have to figure that out on your own,” she said softly. “I’m just here to help you find the way.”

Classic, Jungwon thought bitterly. He’d been waiting for months to hear that inevitable line- the classic therapist mantra about self-discovery. It never comforted him. He wasn’t after self-discovery; he wanted a roadmap, an instruction manual, a quick fix. Anything but this endless ambiguity.

“I saw that coming,” he grumbled.

Alice rolled her eyes and continued her gentle interrogation, hiding her exasperation beneath genuine care. She’d learned it was impossible to treat Jungwon like any other client. Around him, she was different- and secretly, she liked that.

Throughout the session, Jungwon found himself staring at her curls, fascinated by how they bounced with even the slightest movement, the delicate sway of her sundress, the glint of her white heels, and her lips, full and soft, pressing together thoughtfully whenever words failed her.

Eventually, the clock crept toward midnight. Alice glanced at the time and sighed, knowing Jungwon had plans with his family tonight. She coaxed him to believe that seeing his family might help, might remind him that he mattered. But if only she’d known what would unfold tonight, she might have steered him far, far away instead.

At last, she guided Jungwon toward the door, hands resting gently on his shoulders, her warm smile softening the sting of the harsh fluorescent lights. She reminded him to take his medication if the evening became too overwhelming. She reminded him that he mattered- to his family, to his friends, and especially to her.

And when Jungwon caught the glow in her luminous brown eyes, he felt a foolish flutter in his chest and belly. He tried to suppress the grin spreading across his face, but it blossomed anyway, as bright and shy as a schoolboy’s.

Outside Alice’s office, Y/N sat slouched in a plastic chair, head bent low, thumbs flying over her phone screen. Her torn jeans bore the marks of restless fingers picking at the fabric, and she was so absorbed in whatever she was reading that she didn’t even notice Jungwon and Alice standing a few steps away, exchanging a smirk and an eye-roll.

“Shall we go?” Jungwon ventured softly.

Y/N lifted her head, blinking into the light, nose crinkling as recognition sparked in her eyes. A small laugh escaped her lips. She pushed herself up from the chair, slipped her phone into her back pocket, and rubbed her palms briskly against her thighs, trying to chase away the chill in the air.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she flashed a grin, then turned to Alice and shook her hand warmly. “See you next week.”

Without missing a beat, she slung an arm around Jungwon’s shoulders and guided him toward the building’s exit. As they stepped out into the cool night, Jungwon patted his pockets anxiously.

“Sunghoon has my meds in the car, right?” Jungwon asked, glancing sideways at Y/N- a girl who’d practically grown up in his house, who’d babysat him and Niki when Jake and Sunghoon couldn’t. Even after all these years, he still instinctively turned to her for small comforts and fixes- her and her brother.

“Yeah, he’s got them,” Y/N confirmed with a soft smile as they reached the sidewalk.

Sunghoon’s sleek convertible was already parked out front, engine idling like a restless animal. Niki sat slumped in the passenger seat, head bowed low, rubbing his nose repeatedly. When he caught sight of Jungwon and Y/N, he perked up, waving frantically.

“Come on, get in already! Let’s just get tonight over with!” Niki shouted through the open window.

Jungwon leaned in for a quick hug with Niki, earning a slap on the back from Sunghoon, who promptly handed him his bottle of antidepressants. Y/N got a swift kiss on the cheek from Sunghoon and a warm hug from Niki.

“You ready?” Niki whispered close to her ear, and Y/N shivered, partly from the cold night air, partly from the proximity. She pulled back and gave a nod, her eyes scanning his bloodshot eyes and bruised lips. He was definitely high- that much was obvious.

A flicker of worry crossed her face at the sight of his split lip, but not enough to make her ask what had happened.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Or at least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.

“God, I can’t wait to go home and crash,” Y/N groaned, squeezing into the back seat beside Jungwon as Sunghoon scolded her for not bothering to open the door first.

“I just wanna get drunk,” Niki said from the passenger seat, stretching his arms overhead.

Jungwon caught Niki’s eyes in the rearview mirror and gave him a disapproving shake of his head, but couldn’t hide a small smile.

“That’s one way to spend the night,” Y/N agreed, laughing softly.

“Or we could just mess with Jake and drive him crazy,” Niki added, grinning wickedly.

Jungwon’s eyes widened. “Oh god. Please don’t. He hasn’t seen us in months. Can’t we just have a normal night?”

Sunghoon let out a frustrated groan, turning halfway in his seat to glare at Niki. “Seriously? You’re seeing Jake after three months and your plan is to annoy the shit out of him?”

“Actually,” Niki chimed in, lifting a finger as though delivering a legal defense. “It was my plan. I just told Y/N, and she said yes.”

Y/N threw up her hands. “Don’t drag me into this. I said no to whatever you’re planning tonight.”

Niki gave her a solemn look. “Traitor.”

“It’s fine, Sunghoon,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like we’re gonna murder him or anything.”

Sunghoon scowled at the lot of them. “You’re gonna say something stupid and he’s gonna flip his shit.”

Y/N leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “That’s kind of the point, though, isn’t it?”

Sunghoon let out another groan, rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. He started the car, the engine roaring to life as Niki cracked his neck from side to side.

“You think Jake’s already waiting for us?” Y/N asked, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“I hope so,” Niki muttered, shifting in his seat.

“Same. I just wanna get this over with and go home and sleep,” Jungwon sighed, rattling the bright orange pill bottle in his palm, the tablets clinking softly inside.

Y/N reached over to give his arm a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be fine,” she said, though a hint of uncertainty tugged at the corners of her smile.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes again, muttering under his breath about “the three idiots” he was stuck chauffeuring around.

A few blocks down the road, he glanced at Y/N in the rearview mirror. “Do we need to get Jay on the way?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nope, he’s already there. He flew ahead.”

Sunghoon grunted, shifting gears as they sped off into the night.

When Jake stepped into the bar, the humid press of bodies and the sharp bite of spilled alcohol closed around him like a vice, choking off his breath. The room pulsed with music and neon lights, a kaleidoscope of movement and color that only deepened the gnawing dread twisting through his gut. It felt as though a heavy shadow was perched atop his shoulders, pressing him forward even as every instinct screamed for him to turn back. Somewhere among these wooden tables, beneath the golden glow of overhead lamps and the sweet, acidic tang of whiskey, his reckoning waited for him.

He paused near the threshold, scanning the crowd with eyes that burned from too many sleepless nights. He searched for familiar figures- the lean frame of Sunghoon, who usually hovered near the poker tables; Niki’s mess of hair that bobbed and swayed in time with the dance floor’s rhythm; or the sight of Jungwon, head bent over a pool cue as his hair fell over dark, watchful eyes. But the faces around him were all strangers, laughing into their drinks, pressing close in the low haze of music and cigarette smoke.

A dull throb started in Jake’s temples as he forced himself deeper into the bar, past sticky tabletops and the bitter scent of stale beer. His senses were on high alert, each step deliberate, as if crossing a battlefield rather than a room meant for celebration. Yet even amid the chaos, one smell anchored him- the faint, comforting waft of his favorite beer drifting from somewhere ahead. He knew instantly where his brothers and friends were waiting for him. And the laughter rolling out from that dark corner- sharp, mocking- sliced right through him.

The sound was familiar, once a melody that meant belonging. But now, it made his stomach turn. Because a year ago, Jake would have slipped into that circle without a second thought. He would have poured his own drink, fired back his own biting jokes, and felt utterly at home. But tonight, he felt like an intruder approaching his own execution.

He moved toward the booth, shoulders squared, his hands buried deep into the pockets of his trench coat, fingers curled into fists as if he could hold himself together through sheer will.

It was Y/N who spotted him first.

Her eyes caught the shifting lights, glinting like shards of amber glass. For a fleeting instant, a softness sparked across her face, as though she was genuinely glad to see him- but it vanished in a blink, replaced by a slow, sharp smirk that curled the corners of her lips. Jake felt something squeeze painfully in his chest at the sight. Once, that smile had meant secrets and inside jokes. Now it promised war.

And he knew, with bone-deep certainty, that this night would not end well.

He braced himself.

“There you are!” Y/N crowed, voice bright as she threw both arms into the air, one hand wrapped tightly around the neck of a whiskey bottle. Her hair spilled across her shoulders in waves, dark as spilled ink under the neon glow. Jake winced at the sight of the bottle, at the telltale flush in her cheeks. Normally, he’d have scolded her, reminded her to slow down, to take care. But tonight, he didn’t say a word. He merely inclined his head, acknowledging her and the group with a curt nod, as the others greeted him in low, disjointed murmurs.

Jay sat close to Y/N, one arm slung protectively around his half-sister’s shoulders. His eyes were sharp, tracking Jake’s every move like a hawk waiting to strike or intervene- depending on how the night turned. The delicate gold pattern on his dark wings shimmering in the pulsing lights as he shifted

In the world they lived in, love left its mark not only on hearts but on bodies. When two people fell in love, they grew wings- a pair of white for one partner, and black for the other. Nobody seemed entirely certain what the colors signified- purity and darkness, perhaps, or simply a cosmic balance of opposites- but Jake knew one thing for certain- in his world, most men, himself included, ended up sprouting black wings.

But then there were the rare lovers, the fated pairs everyone secretly envied- soulmates whose wings blossomed not in plain color, but threaded with intricate veins and swirls of gold. Like a constellation woven into feathers, the gold marked them as a bond beyond ordinary love- a connection said to transcend lifetimes, anchored in something divine.

Jay and his wife, Chelsea, were one of those rare pairs.

It was such an extraordinary occurrence that local news outlets had practically camped outside the gates of their compound, desperate to run feature stories about the gold-winged couple. Tabloid headlines speculated about how their wings must look in flight, if the golden glow was visible even in the dark. Paparazzi tried snapping photos at impossible angles, eager to sell proof of their shimmering wings to gossip magazines.

But Jay and Chelsea refused it all.

They declined every interview, every offer for a glossy magazine spread, choosing instead to keep their story private. They belonged to a mob family, after all, and the risks were far too high. Gold wings didn’t just mark love- they painted a target on your back for rival factions eager to exploit your weakness or your happiness.

Jay and Chelsea’s story was almost storybook-perfect. They’d met in college, enrolled in the same economics class. From the very first day, there was a magnetic pull between them- lingering glances across the lecture hall, shared laughter over coffee outside the library. During a crowded house party one October night, their fingers brushed while reaching for the same beer bottle, and that tiny touch seemed to seal their fate. Within a week, they woke up to find gold beginning to shimmer along the curve of their shoulder blades. By the end of the month, full wings had unfurled, bearing matching golden markings so unique it was like they shared the same fingerprint.

In every sense, Jay and Chelsea were perfect. They moved in quiet synchronicity, understood each other’s moods with a glance, and made even the darkest parts of mob life seem manageable. To watch them was to glimpse something miraculous.

Yet even in a world where love could quite literally sprout wings, obsession bred bitterness. People broke off relationships simply because their wings came out plain white or black, unable to accept the absence of gold. There were forums online dedicated to decoding every tiny speck of color in new wings, hopeful posts from strangers praying their black feathers might still glow gold one day. Some lovers lingered together in misery, waiting for the gold that never came.

Jake had always thought that was foolish. A pair of wings didn’t dictate love- or so he’d told himself, especially after meeting Emily. When he fell for her, his own wings grew in black, feathered and sleek, the color of midnight oil. Hers were white, pale as frost. No hint of gold ever came, no divine stamp of soulmate-hood.

And Jake told himself it didn’t matter.

Even as he caught himself glancing enviously at Jay and Chelsea sometimes, watching the soft glint of gold move beneath their shirts as they laughed together, he clung to the belief that love didn’t need wings to prove itself.

But deep down, a quiet fear curled inside his ribs, whispering that maybe, just maybe, it did.

Jake’s eyes swept the rest of the booth. Sunghoon, perched beside Jay, rolled his eyes the moment their gazes met. He raised his beer in a silent toast- or maybe a warning- and shoved an empty chair out with his foot, the legs scraping a rough protest against the sticky floor. Jake hesitated for a fraction of a second before sinking into the seat, feeling every pair of eyes weigh down on him.

It wasn’t awkward silence that followed. It was anticipation. Like the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for the first crack to appear in the fragile facade holding all of them together.

But Jake’s attention snagged on Jungwon, who sat small and drawn beside Y/N. His hair hung forward like a curtain as he stared down into a tall glass of orange cocktail that trembled slightly in his grasp. His lips hovered near the rim but never touched it. A spear of protectiveness shot through Jake’s chest. He wanted to reach over, tilt Jungwon’s chin up, and ask if he’d remembered his meds tonight. But his throat closed around the words before they could escape.

And then he saw Niki. His brother leaned back against the cracked vinyl of the booth, eyes ringed in red and blown wide from whatever he’d taken earlier. A bruise split the delicate skin of his lower lip, purple blooming like ink beneath pale skin. Jake felt his own jaw tighten, heat pulsing up the sides of his neck. He wanted to demand who’d hurt his brother, he wanted to hit someone for leaving that mark. But even now, he held himself in check.

Because tonight wasn’t just about bruises. Tonight was about all the wounds they’d been pretending not to see.

“You’re like an hour late, bro,” Niki drawled, one eyebrow arched high, his grin a wicked crescent as he leaned closer over the table. His eyes were wide, expectant, as though daring his brother to tell the truth for once in his life.

Jungwon and Sunghoon both cringed, almost in sync, at Niki’s tone.

Jay and Y/N shared a quick glance, a silent communication honed over years. It was the kind of look that said brace yourself- because everyone knew what was about to unfold.

Jake’s jaw tightened visibly as he curled his fingers into the wood grain of the table, ignoring the sharp sting as his healing cuts stretched and split. His eyes turned flinty as they landed on Niki, staring him up and down like he was trying to calculate just how much trouble his little brother was ready to cause.

“I was running some errands,” Jake said finally, rolling his eyes, the lie slipping off his tongue as smoothly as air. He swept his gaze around the table, daring anyone to challenge him.

He was desperate to hold on to some shred of control, even as the walls pressed in closer around him.

“You’re lying,” Y/N cut in sharply, her voice slicing through the noise of the bar like a blade. It wasn’t even an accusation- it was simply the truth stated aloud, the truth Jake had no intention of admitting.

Jake’s first instinct was to snap back, to warn her to watch her mouth, to stay in her lane and not start a fight tonight. But the words never made it past his teeth. He didn’t have the right anymore- not after everything.

Besides, Jay was already leaning in to whisper in Y/N’s ear, murmuring for her not to push things too far. Y/N only shook her head, exhaling as though his caution exhausted her. Jay chuckled, though his gaze shifted back to Jake, dark and assessing. It was a look that made Jake’s stomach twist because it told him exactly how thoroughly he was seen. Then Jay’s mouth tilted into a smirk, and Y/N clicked her tongue against her teeth. Jake knew then there was no escape.

Y/N had always taken pleasure in pushing his buttons. It was practically a sport to her- one she’d perfected over years of knowing exactly where to press and how hard. She’d drag him right to the edge until something ugly burst out of him, and not even Jay’s gentle hands on her shoulders could ever fully hold her back.

She’d grown up around Jake. She knew every scar, every soft spot, every secret shame, and she wasn’t afraid to wield that knowledge like a weapon.

Once, they’d screamed at each other across rooms, volleying insults that could make grown men flinch. Jake used to warn her to drop it, used to hiss for her to shut up. But tonight, he didn’t even try.

Tonight was different.

Because tonight, Jake knew he deserved every blow she was about to land. He knew he’d fucked up. And there was a part of him that almost wanted her to say it all out loud, so he could stop carrying it in silence.

“One thing,” he heard her say in his memory, her voice cool and trembling with rage. “I asked you for one fucking thing. And you still did it.”

“You know I know Dad was with you, right? And so was Emily?” Niki interjected suddenly, his grin wicked and sharp, his eyes flicking between Jake and Sunghoon like a cat toying with a trapped bird.

Sunghoon flinched, surprise flashing over his face. His eyes flew wide, but he stayed silent, gripping his beer bottle tight enough that the glass creaked. He knew Jake needed to hear whatever was coming next- even if it ripped him open.

“I don’t get why you need to lie to us all the time,” Y/N chimed in, shaking her head, hair tumbling over her shoulders. She pursed her lips, the last traces of compassion draining out of her expression as she noticed Jake’s white-knuckled fist clenched against the table. “Want a drink?” She asked lightly, tilting her head, her eyes sparkling with false innocence. It was almost comical how gentle her tone was, considering she was about to skin him alive.

“Thanks,” Jake muttered, his voice rough, as Y/N slid Jay’s beer across the table toward him. He caught it just before it tipped off the edge, feeling the cold condensation bleeding into his heated palm.

“Now tell me,” Y/N continued, leaning back slightly, her whiskey swirling amber in the low light as Jay waved a waiter over for another round. Jake lifted his chin at her in silent challenge, signaling her to keep going. Sunghoon’s lips pressed into a hard line while Jungwon fidgeted, trying and failing to meet his brother’s eyes.

Y/N’s gaze was unwavering. She took another slow sip, savoring it, then lowered her glass to the table with a soft clink.

“How’s Emily?” She asked, voice casual, eyes glinting like sharpened glass. “The baby’s coming in… what, a few weeks? Did you decide on a name yet?”

Jake drew in a careful breath, chest tight as he tried to remind himself that this wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. People had babies every day. People asked about baby names every day- Y/N was going to be the aunt, after all. But somehow, in this moment, with every pair of eyes fixed on him like knives, it felt colossal.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low and slightly strained. He nodded, fingers drumming lightly on the neck of his beer bottle. “A few. Amber, Emma, Robin, Luna. She says Blue is her favourite.”

Y/N made a soft, thoughtful sound in the back of her throat, swirling her whiskey lazily. “Luna’s my favourite.”

Niki let out a sharp snort, tipping his chair back on two legs. “What kinda name is Blue?” He scoffed. “Emily’s always been stupid- honestly.”

Jake’s head snapped up, eyes flashing. “You’re gonna find an excuse to shit on her for everything?” His voice came out tight, barely controlled, like a stretched wire ready to snap.

Niki rolled his eyes, dropping his chair back onto all fours with a loud thump. “Are you just starting to learn that?” He shot back. “You act like this is new.” Jake’s lips parted to retort, but Niki was already pressing forward, sharp as a blade. “What’d Dad say, anyway?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Jake shot back, growling it before he could stop himself. He didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but he was done waiting for the inevitable. He was just counting down the seconds until the accusations started flying, until they flayed him open in front of everyone.

He tightened his grip around his beer, glass biting into the tender cuts already splitting across his knuckles. His skin stretched painfully, stinging and raw, as if even his own body was punishing him for being here.

Y/N tilted her head, her mouth curling into a faint smirk as she studied him with glinting eyes. She looked, for a moment, almost… delighted. Because Jake, for the first time in a long time, looked cornered.

Jake Sim- who’d once made men twice his size tremble with a single stare- sat there looking like an animal bracing for the blow. And it wasn’t an enemy doing this to him. It was the people who knew him best.

It was humiliating.

He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, loud enough that he barely noticed Sunghoon shifting beside him, subtle and restless. Even Sunghoon, for all his sighs and annoyed glances, wasn’t stepping in to save him.

Jake clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt. He was furious with himself- for letting them see how rattled he was. For letting himself be afraid of people who technically worked for him, who were supposed to follow his orders.

All of them worked under him. All of them owed him loyalty. Yet somehow, it felt like they held all the power now. And that scared Jake more than anything else.

“Fine, tell me then,” Y/N said, leaning forward on her elbows with a lopsided grin, eyes glittering like she was daring him to lie again.

“Anything to do with Emily does not concern you,” Jake snapped back, each word sharp enough to cut. He hated how his voice trembled at the edges, hated even more the cold pit that seemed to sink deeper into his stomach the longer this conversation went on. He knew they had a point. He just didn’t want them to be right.

“Technically, it does,” Jungwon piped up, his voice unexpectedly firm.

Every head at the table turned toward him. The clink of ice in drinks, the thump of bass from the dance floor, all seemed to fade for a second as silence fell.

Jungwon looked back at Jake, brow furrowed. “You only met her because of us,” he continued, sounding almost offended that nobody else was saying it. Y/N blinked at him, as if startled that Jungwon- usually the quietest one- was suddenly dropping truths like grenades.

“Still doesn’t mean you have to know everything,” Jake bit out, his glare searing a hole into Jungwon’s forehead, but he didn’t flinch.

“Jake,” Jay interjected calmly, folding his hands together on the table. “You met her ‘cause of them, or no?”

It wasn’t a demand, not quite. Jay had a way of asking things that cut through the bullshit without ever raising his voice. It was the same directness Y/N possessed, except softer around the edges.

“Yes.”

The word left Jake like a rock falling out of his chest. Saying it felt like slitting open his own ribs and laying bare the truth for them to pick over. He could feel blood rushing in his ears, felt his skin burning hot like his veins were on fire. His ears turned red. His jaw ached from clenching so hard. For a second, he thought his eyes might start bleeding if he didn’t breathe.

“Now was that so hard?” Y/N taunted, her mouth twisting into a smirk so familiar it made Jake’s teeth grind together. Her dark eyes sparkled with something suspicious and triumphant.

Yes. It was.

“Honestly, I don’t fucking get what your issue with Emily is!”

And just like that, the dam broke.

The ugly side of Jake came roaring out, slamming into the center of the table with the weight of years of secrets and resentments. His voice echoed over the music, harsh enough that nearby tables turned to look.

Jungwon blinked rapidly, eyes darting toward Sunghoon, who sat stiff as a board, looking caught between intervening and staying silent.

Jay stayed where he was, fingers interlaced, an awkward cough stuttering from his throat as he glanced toward Y/N. He half-expected her to flinch back from Jake’s outburst- but Aspen she straightened her spine and lifted her chin higher, her expression solid as stone.

Y/N and Niki, of course, were grinning like wolves. Cynical excitement glittered in their eyes, an energy electric enough to prickle along the skin of everyone at the table. Sunghoon, meanwhile, seemed to sink a little lower in his seat, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples like he was bracing for an explosion he’d seen coming miles away.

Niki had always hated Emily. From the very first day Y/N introduced her to them in university, he’d wanted nothing to do with her. That distaste only deepened after Y/N and Emily’s brutal falling out.

Back then, Y/N and Niki had spent entire semesters running interference, trying to keep Emily and Jake on different paths. They knew Emily’s type. They knew how slick her lies were, how her smiles were calculated, how she could tilt her chin and say exactly the right words to slip past a man’s defenses.

They hadn’t wanted anything to happen to Jake. But when had Jake ever cared about their concern?

All their worst fears had finally come true the day Emily managed to wrap Jake around her little finger. When she convinced him that no one else could handle him the way she could, that only she could soothe his volatility, his dark moods.

She’d whispered that she could help with business, too- because her family owned a weapons manufacturing company, with ties that could be useful.

Jake fell. Hard. Head over heels for her dark hair and ice-pale skin, for the cool glint in her pale eyes. He fell for her like a man starving for air.

And now, she was pregnant. And the baby was coming in a few weeks. And somehow, Jake still insisted none of it concerned anyone else.

“Ever since I met her, you lot just distanced yourselves from me. You were the ones who started acting differently around me,” Jake said, eyes hard and voice edged with bitterness. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Jake. Why don’t you ask yourself that?” Y/N scoffed, though she quickly turned and passed Jungwon a soft smile when she saw him cringe. Jungwon shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, and when Jake shot him a sharp look that asked, what the hell did you just say? Jungwon only turned away.

“The answer is right in front of you, Hyung. You just won’t accept it,” Niki snapped, his voice raw with frustration. He glared at his brother, fearless, stabbing his finger toward Jake like he was delivering a sentence. “You’re the one who shut us out. You’re the one who fell head over heels for someone we told you to stay away from!” He pointed sharply between himself, Y/N, and Jungwon. “You’re the one who kicked us out of the house because Emily wanted you all to herself!”

Jake’s mouth opened, then closed again. He didn’t know how to justify any of it. The silence that fell around the table was suffocating.

“You’ve been ignoring your brothers, Jake,” Y/N said quietly, voice like a blade sliding between his ribs. “Forget about me and Jay. They’re your brothers, and you pushed them away.” She pointed towards them- Sunghoon and Jungwon ducked their heads away from Jake’s gaze, Niki glared right back.

“She’s got you wrapped around her fingers, don’t you see that?” Niki spat. “Your whole damn life revolves around her now. And you’ve changed. For God’s sake, you’ve become so fucking blind!” He threw his arms wide, the gesture almost theatrical, but the bitterness behind it was real.

Jake stayed silent for a long moment, staring down at the table as if the battered wood could offer him an answer. He ransacked his mind for some kind of snarky comeback, but nothing felt strong enough. Because the worst part was- they were right. Every single word. And the knowledge gnawed at his insides like acid.

“You’re serious, right?” Jake’s voice came out low and dangerous. “You’re jealous? Fucking jealous because I don’t pay attention to you?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Niki growled under his breath, shooting Jay an incredulous look across the table.

Jay let out a heavy sigh, mirroring Niki’s frustration.

“You think we’re jealous because you give Emily attention?” Y/N let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Please.”

“It’s not about jealousy,” Jungwon finally burst out, finishing off his third cocktail in a single gulp. Jake rolled his eyes at his younger brother’s sudden surge of confidence.

“Exactly! It’s not about that!” Y/N exclaimed, shaking her head so hard that her hair fell forward around her face. “It’s about you changing your priorities and turning a blind eye to the people who always had your back. Hell, you finally talked to your parents today after so long and it didn’t even end well! Do you not see what she’s doing to you?” Her eyes were wide and fierce, her arms flailing as she tried to drive the truth into his skull.

“You think she’s manipulating me?” Jake shot back, voice trembling with a mixture of rage and something dangerously close to fear.

“Finally! My god, I thought you’d gone illiterate too,” Niki sneered, leaning back in his chair and locking his hands behind his head. Sunghoon and Jay both reached over to smack him lightly on the arm, telling him to knock it off, while Jungwon and Y/N shook their heads in exasperation.

Jake growled low in his chest, the urge to punch Niki square in the face riding high on his nerves.

“Yes, Jake. She’s manipulating you,” Jay said wearily, dragging a hand through his hair as if this conversation physically drained him. His wings shifted behind him, the faint shimmer of gold threading through the black feathers, and Y/N whispered a soft thank you into his ear.

“You don’t know shit, Jay,” Jake shot back, voice brittle.

“Hey, I’m being the nicest one out of all these assholes, and you’re gonna say shit like that?” Jay snapped, his eyes blazing brighter against his skin.

“You think you know everything just because you and Chelsea fell in love and grew your soulmate wings,” Jake bit out, hoping the words would cut as deeply as they once might have. But he realized, with a cold sinking in his gut, that his insults didn’t seem to land anymore. Not with anyone at this table.

It was painfully clear how much he’d lost. How little he seemed to matter to the people who used to be his world.

“What the hell does Chelsea have to do with this?” Jay fired back, pushing himself up from his chair until he was looming over the table. His expression was thunderous, shoulders squared, wings fluttering, ready for a fight.

Jake mirrored his movements, leaning forward until their faces were only inches apart, his palms planted flat on the table as silent threats hung between them like charged electricity. His wings threatened to open. He darted his eyes briefly toward Y/N, desperate to see if he’d managed to scare her- but she just sat there coolly, clicking her tongue against her teeth.

The lack of fear in her gaze made Jake’s blood boil even hotter.

He’d always been jealous of Jay. Deep down, he couldn’t deny it. Jay hadn’t just fallen in love with a random woman- he’d fallen in love with his soulmate. The delicate golden patterns shimmering on both his and Chelsea’s wings were a permanent reminder of that fact.

Jake wanted that. Desperately. He wanted it with Emily. But even after all these years together- after professing their love for each other- their wings remained ordinary black and white. But he wasn’t complaining- he still loved her.

It felt like the universe was playing a sick joke on him. And instead of acknowledging all the red flags that had been flapping around him like warning signals, he’d chosen to keep lying to himself because it was easier. Because facing the truth meant facing the possibility that he’d wasted time on someone who was never loyal.

“No, I don’t think I’m an expert,” Jay said, voice finally leveling out. “But since you love being right so much, let me give you something to be mad about.” Jake clenched his jaw. Jay took a slow breath, then started counting on his fingers. “I know Emily is a shitty person. I know her family is shady. I know she doesn't care enough about love or wings to stay. And you are gonna regret ever trusting her.”

With each statement, Jay jabbed his finger into Jake’s chest.

“She’s pregnant with my child. Where could she possibly be going now?” Jake spat, but even he sounded tired, defeated.

He didn’t even know why he was trying anymore. He’d already lost the fight long before it started.

“We’ve known Emily way longer than you have!” Y/N shot back. “Of course we know what we’re talking about. There’s a reason we tried to keep you away from her. But no- you just had to do the one thing we begged you not to do.” Her voice was shaking now, but with rage, not fear.

“You’re talking? You never do anything I tell you to do!” Jake shouted, flinging a hand in her direction. A round of dramatic gasps circled the table.

Jay lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose, collapsing back into his chair just as Jake did the same.

“At least I didn’t blow up my relationship with my family in the process!” Y/N snapped. Jake lowered his head, though his jaw kept flexing like he was chewing rocks. “You’re a mobster, Jake. You’re supposed to be smart. Do you not see that she’s going to leave your blind ass!?” She practically screamed the last words. Niki let out a wicked grin, lifting his beer bottle and tipping it in Y/N’s direction in solidarity.

“Bullshit!” Jake shouted, his voice raw. “Can’t you see that I’m happier with her? Why can’t you just accept that? I’m about to start a family with her,” there was almost a note of pleading in his tone, buried under the anger.

“She doesn’t even want to marry you,” Niki deadpanned. “Until now, I thought you were just blind and illiterate. But you’re immature too. Huh. Guess we’re learning new things every day.” He took a long, mocking sip from his beer.

Jake slammed his fist into the table so hard the glasses rattled, the tips of his ears burning red, his eyes narrowed to furious slits. “Watch your fucking mouth!” he growled.

Niki just lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug, while Jungwon blinked rapidly and Sunghoon exhaled a ragged breath.

“No, Jake. You don’t have the right to say that to any of us anymore,” Y/N said firmly, folding her arms over her chest. “You lost that right when you shoved us all away for some girl from a shady-ass family. So come talk to us when you decide to actually listen to what we’re trying to tell you.”

Her gaze was steely as she stared at him down, more powerful than any anger he’d ever seen in her eyes.

Niki stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, gentle but decisive. “We should go,” he said quietly, glancing at Jungwon. The two brothers exchanged a silent nod before Jungwon stood as well, grabbing Y/N’s hand as the three of them prepared to leave.

“We’re only telling you this because we care,” Y/N said, pausing as she looked back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Jake’s with an intensity that felt like a knife. “But it’s pretty clear it’s worth nothing to you.” She gave Niki’s hand a squeeze. “You coming, Jay?”

Jay shook his head slightly. “Sunghoon’s supposed to drive me home. You know I’m a shit flyer when I’m drunk.”

“We’re taking a cab,” Y/N pressed her lips together, gave Sunghoon a silent nod, and turned to leave. And just like that, Y/N, Niki, and Jungwon walked out the bar doors- just as Jake had walked out of their lives.

The duvet was still cool against her pale skin as Emily twisted and turned in Jake’s bed, cold sweat pearling along her hairline and dripping down her temples. It had been at least two hours since Jake left the house, and sleep refused to come.

Warm jasmine tea, a movie on low volume, reading the same page over and over, even counting sheep- nothing helped. Instead, she lay there, teeth digging mercilessly into her bottom lip, one hand resting below her abdomen, above her swollen belly.

She hadn’t planned any of this. Not the way things escalated with Jake, not the web of lies she kept weaving, and certainly not the mess that was now unravelling faster than she could sew it back together.

She never meant to start a committed relationship. She never meant to lead Jake on this long. She never meant to risk ruining his life- or hers.

All she’d wanted was a good shag, maybe some perks on the side. But it had spun wildly out of control, dragging into love, pretending to care, pretending she could shoulder a responsibility she’d never wanted in the first place.

And somewhere along the way, she’d shattered her friendship with Y/N, shattered parts of herself, and was left curled up in Jake’s sheets while he wandered who-knew-where, probably still carrying that stupid, starry-eyed hope for her.

Sometimes, Emily hated herself. Hated the impulsive decisions, the way she always seemed to complicate everything she touched. Hated the secrets piling higher with every word she spoke, until it felt like the weight of them might crush her bones.

She just wanted to be normal.

Finally giving up, she rolled to the edge of the bed and reached for her phone on the nightstand. She stared at the screen for a moment, debating, then typed in a number so familiar her fingers moved on muscle memory alone.

It rang once, twice, three times. She was about to hang up when a voice answered.

“Hello?” Erwin’s voice was scratchy, edged with fatigue. But hearing her twin brother, even through the thin speaker, settled some tremor inside her chest. He always sounded a little like their father, especially when he was annoyed.

“Hi,” she said softly, voice small as she twisted a loose thread from the cuff of her sweater around her finger.

“You okay, sis?” Erwin chuckled, though she could hear the sharpness beneath the gentle tease. He could sense it- that tension in her breathing, the way each inhale rattled like a shaky apology.

“Yeah. I’m fine, just-” she trailed off, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as a clang of metal echoed faintly on the line. “Are you at the factory?” She asked, grasping for any mundane detail to distract her.

Erwin nodded before remembering she couldn’t see him, and winced at his own idiocy. “Yeah. Had some late work to finish up,” he said. “Lola’s here, too,” and Emily could practically hear the flutter of feathers from his wings at the mention of his girlfriend’s name.

Emily wanted to groan, maybe scream.

“Oh, great,” she managed, her laugh brittle, eyes darting over the pale skin of her legs and the distant stretch of the ceiling. “I can’t wait to come home,” she added, her words hanging in the silence like a prayer she hadn’t meant to say aloud.

She missed it- God, she missed it so much.

Her mother’s warm embrace, the house always smelling like cinnamon and gingerbread. Erwin’s dumb jokes, Lola’s loud, infectious giggle. The TV blaring trashy reality shows all day. Her old bedroom, small but familiar, where she could exist as herself rather than the character she’d invented for Jake’s world.

None of that lived in this house. Not in Jake’s silent, too-big rooms, not when most of his family could barely stand to look at her.

“Home?” Erwin repeated, his brow furrowing. The confusion in his voice punched a ripple of panic through her chest. “I thought Jake’s place was your home now?”

“God, I never wanted to stay here forever.”

“But you wanted to move in.”

“I didn’t think he’d actually take me seriously!” Emily shouted, yanking her fingers through the roots of her hair, clawing at her scalp until it stung. Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I made a mistake.”

She let her gaze drift around the room, suddenly feeling like the walls had grown farther apart, like the air was stretching thin and cold. Everything seemed bigger, emptier, lonelier than it had hours ago.

“You’re pregnant with his child, Em,” Erwin said flatly, no softness left in his voice.

“I don’t know how to fix it.” Her voice cracked, tears threatening.

“What did you do?”

“A lot.”

“You’ve done a lot of bullshit, Emily. What the fuck are you planning now?” Erwin’s voice grew harsher with every word, a gravelly rasp that made Emily wince.

“Stop being mad,” she whispered, trembling so lightly it felt like her bones were rattling inside her skin.

“Just tell me what you did.”

“I’m coming home soon.” Her voice was flat, decisive, but her eyes were glassy with fear. “Just… don’t ask any questions.”

Then, before Erwin could respond, she hit the red button and ended the call.

A sob twisted in her throat as she stared at the phone in her hand. Then rage overtook her trembling fingers, and she hurled it at the wall. It cracked, the screen exploding into spiderwebs of black glass, shards skittering across the floor.

Emily stared at the wreckage, her chest heaving, the silence in the room deafening as her secrets pressed in from all sides.

Sunghoon never planned to let Jake drive. Not when he was drunk, not when he was seething with the kind of rage that made his eyes shine like shards of glass. But no matter what he or Jay said, Jake insisted. It was his car, his rules, and nobody was going to touch the wheel but him.

Now they were barreling through the city under a canopy of neon lights, Jake’s foot crushing the accelerator as though the harder he pressed, the faster he could outrun the mess his life had become. Jay sat rigid in the passenger seat, jaw clenched so tight it ached, silently praying the seatbelt would be enough to save him if Jake sent them flying into a median.

Sunghoon sat hunched in the back, folding further into himself with every sudden swerve. His thumbs worried the edge of his shirt hem, head ducked low as though trying to disappear. He could feel Jake’s fury radiating off the driver’s seat like waves of furnace heat, and he knew that right now, Jake was angrier at him than at anyone else. Because he hadn’t spoken up. Because he’d let Y/N and the others have their say while he stood aside, quietly deciding Jake needed to hear every painful word of it.

“Fuck,” Jake spat the word out again, low and trembling as they tore around another bend. “Fuck me,” he kept muttering it under his breath like a broken mantra. “I don’t know which one of you to trust anymore,” his eyes never left the road, but the bitterness in his voice cut like a knife.

“What?” Sunghoon whispered, voice cracking from hours of silence, eyes flicking toward Jay for reassurance.

“You could’ve opened your mouth and said something- but you didn’t,” Jake’s voice came out hoarse, almost strangled, but laced with a venom that made Sunghoon flinch.

“Because they were right,” Sunghoon finally lifted his head, desperation flashing across his face. “You needed to hear that. And you know they’re right.”

“You can’t bitch about how they treated you and then bring this shit up again,” Jay cut in, voice sharp as he braced a hand on the dashboard, fingers digging into the leather.

“You’re even lucky you’re sitting in this car, Jay,” Jake snapped.

Jay rolled his eyes hard enough it felt like they might stick in the back of his skull. His wings shifted against his back, folding tighter as though trying to vanish.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Jake barked out a hollow laugh, eyes flaring as he weaved through a cluster of slower cars. “I expected so much from you guys- and look at where we fucking are,” his knuckles blanched white on the wheel, veins standing out in sharp relief as he jerked the car into the fast lane, barely missing a sedan that blared its horn.

Jay bit down the urge to scream. He could see it so clearly- Jake drowning in his own ego, clinging to victimhood like it might keep him afloat.

“Can you blame them for being like that?” Sunghoon whispered, voice trembling but firmer than before.

“No. This isn’t about them now,” Jake’s head twisted just slightly, eyes burning into Sunghoon’s reflection in the rear-view mirror. “It’s about you,” he lifted a hand off the wheel and stabbed a finger at Sunghoon, the silver of his ring catching the rolling streetlights like a flash of lightning.

“You can’t blame him for everything, man,” Jay shot back, his voice rising, the tension snapping in his throat.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that?” Jake roared, voice booming in the confined space. His whole body vibrated with a rage so raw that it almost felt radioactive. He was a live wire, sparks flying, every second closer to snapping.

“I’m trying to help you, Jake!” Jay slammed his hand down on the dash. “But you won’t let us!”

“Oh, you’re trying to help me by ganging up on me? That’s rich,” Jake fired back, eyes briefly darting away from the highway as though he couldn’t stand looking at either of them.

“And you’re trying to help yourself by letting some chick manipulate you?” Jay shot back, his arms folding tight over his chest, fury radiating off him like heat.

“Shut your fucking mouth or I swear I’ll crash this car on purpose,” Jake snarled, and Jay felt the car lurch forward as Jake’s foot mashed the accelerator. Sunghoon yelped, clutching his seatbelt so hard his knuckles whitened.

“Was that a threat?” Jay hissed, glaring at him, half-expecting Jake to scoff or laugh it off. But all he got back was a lethal silence and eyes so dark they seemed bottomless.

“No. I fucking meant it.”

And then- all hell broke loose.

“Fucking asshole- ”

“- Stay in your limit- ”

“- Guys, calm down. Jake, you’re driving- ”

“- I’ll do as I fucking please- ”

“- Sunghoon, sit back- ”

“- No, let him fuck up my driving- ”

“- You’re seriously gonna kill all of us, just calm the fuck down- ”

Words blurred into noise, shouts overlapped, hands were flailing, grabbing, shoving. The car skidded between lanes as Jake took a wild swing, his fist flying toward Sunghoon’s jaw, connecting with a sickening crack that echoed in the cabin like a gunshot.

Jay barely had time to shout before blinding white light exploded across the windshield. Headlights- massive, searing- hurtled toward them, and the shriek of truck brakes split the night in two.

In a surge of pure adrenaline, Jay lunged for the wheel, grabbing it just as Jake did, both of them wrestling it sideways. The world tilted violently, tires screeching as rubber scorched asphalt.

But the truck kept coming- closer and closer.

Metal shrieked, glass exploded like diamonds around them, flames roared to life somewhere beneath the hood, and the last thing any of them saw was the rain of shattered glass catching firelight as the world went black.

Then, silence. A silence darker than the night itself.

70 notes · View notes

salemlunaa · 5 hours ago

Text

Be still and know that I AM God

you don’t have to “flip” shit

if you still believe that you have to flip every thought you have, as if you’re playing whack-a-mole, smashing each doubt you have back into the ground of your mind just for it to pop back up again, putting you through a loop, you STILL don’t know who you are. Because if you’ve ever played whack-a-mole that’s how it works, you smash the mole into the ground, and what does it do? it leaves for a bit, only to pop back up again and again, whereas if you would just let the damn mole out of the hole it would probably crawl away and never come back. Just like those thoughts you try so hard to suppress.

Now why do you feel the need to fight the “negative” thoughts? you do this because you still suffer from a case of mistaken identity. You do not truly believe that you are god, you still believe that you are human, and that the ego’s thoughts are your thoughts. You still believe that life, your thoughts and feelings are things happening TO you, when it actually happens FROM AND THROUGH you.

Now what does this have to do with negative thoughts? Well it means that they aren’t really your thoughts, those are the thoughts of the ego that lives in your old story. Let them pass. There’s no point in getting mad at your ego for thinking that, that would be like getting mad at a blind person for not seeing, just pointless, the only thing you must do is let it pass.

Let’s say you have a brand new car, a mercedes maybach for example, as you are about to get into your car, someone runs up to you and screams a list of things in your face: “YOU DONT HAVE THAT CAR, WHY ARE YOU LYING TO YOURSELF”

“WHAT IF YOU NEVER GET THE CAR”

“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU’LL GET THAT CAR BY TOMORROW”

all while the door to your mercedes maybach is open and you’re about to get in…🧍‍♀️

are you going to run into the middle of the parking lot, completely abandoning your mercedes, just to have a panic attack?? are you going to again, abandon your mercedes to run after that person and scream back “I HAVE MY CAR, I HAVE MY CAR, I HAVE MY CAR” looking equally as crazy?? OR are you just going to decide that theyre just a crazy person, get back into your car and drive home? So in other words, are you going to abandon being calm in the new story just to “stick it” to the negative thoughts?

This is all you have to do: “wow that was crazy seeing as i have all that i want and creation is finished, good thing those aren’t MY thoughts”

As soon as you see the need to fight “your” thoughts, you have identified with them and see it as a part of you that you must get rid of. Like an inner conflict as if it’s the hyde to your jekyll. Those thoughts don’t belong to you so don’t feel the need to correct them, let them pass knowing that you are god.

༄༄༄

I’ll give you another example, Two mothers: Kelsey and Jennifer, Kelsey has a well behaved daughter, Lisa and Jennifer has a badly behaved daughter, Rona. 9 times out of 10 if a mother like Kelsey is in the store with her well behaved daughter and sees Rona kicking at her mother and swearing, she’s not going to correct the child, because the child isn’t hers. She’s going to observe the child’s behaviour only to look at her well behaved daughter, thank whatever higher power that this bad ass kid isn’t hers and keep it pushing with her shopping. See those negative thoughts as the rebel child that you’re thankful isn’t yours. Observe and let it pass, all the while being grateful for the new story.

Although i’m not religious, the biblical god never swayed in the fact that he was god even when multiple people doubted him. That’s how you need to be, the ego will doubt, but that isn’t your problem because it isn’t you!!

If you had what you wanted you wouldn’t care about those thoughts, a negative pedestal is still a pedestal, need i remind you. As pure consciousness, you should also know that everything just IS, nothing is “negative” until you label it as such.

So you’re taking the time to: 1. label those thoughts as negative and 2. decide that they are SO worthy of your attention that you need to spiral/ “flip” them. That sounds quite exhausting?

Why do you care so much? Is it because you think those thoughts are blocking you from what’s yours? But i thought creation was finished, so why would that matter? why are you going back…again?

Its like in the movies when a person is bullied, they always get the advice “don’t dignify the bullies a response”

If you know who you are why are you letting thoughts, that don’t even belong to you, waste your time, who are you proving yourself to when it’s just you here?

IF IT DON’T APPLY, LET IT FLY

136 notes · View notes

n3ptoonz · 3 days ago

Text

'Last Train Home'

Pairing: 40s!Bucky/F!Reader

Fandom: MCU

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, major canon divergence, PLOT HEAVY, 40s slang used, the slang is so unserious, angsty, mans might be a lil traumatized, flashbacks, reader smokes, f!masturbation, technically mirror sex, riding, tears, creampie, baby is used a lot here, this is the most dramatic fic i've ever written and i kinda hate it but that's just me being over critical so!! half proofread

italicized text in a sequence means a flashback

Word count: 3.7k+

1945, Brooklyn.

He was gone. You were so sure of it.

Lighting your cigarette on the stovetop, you took a long drag and leaned against the counter in your dimly lit kitchen. You never smoked. Not until your high school sweetheart was drafted for WWII. Those damned Germans. Sending their best wishes and a crisp 'Fuck you' to America's loved ones.

You hadn't drank neither. But how could you not? The love of your life used to write you often and suddenly your mail box was only coughing up bills and magazines showing impossible standards for women. As per usual.

You were only 27. A bright young woman who dreamed of being a scientist. Your mother insisted you try to be closer to Bucky by being a nurse but it just wasn't your calling. You started to wonder if maybe she was right. Maybe you should've listened to her because right now, all you can think about is how he said he'd be back around this time. That blood pumping organ in your chest only ached.

He was gone. You were sure of it.

You tapped the ash in the sink and took another drag, chuckling bitterly to yourself. You were zoned out after catching one of his dress shirts you never moved from the dining table in your line of sight. You could hear his laugh, see his smile, see the genuinely impressed look on his face when he saw the future in Howard Stark's hands. Well, almost.

"Look, look!"

"I'm looking, Bucky."

"Isn't that amazing, babe? It's...beautiful."

"Yes, it is."

The look in his eyes.

His smile.

His laugh.

The powder in the corner of your mouth from the funnel cake you took 75% of that he wiped away.

"Nothing is as beautiful as you, darlin'."

You smiled. He didn't.

"I mean it."

You blinked. Nearly bumped into the table not realizing you were walking towards it. Your hand on the back of the chair with his dress shirt on it. You put the cigarette between your lips and put the shirt on, letting it hang loosely. Not buttoning it so it was like he was there. Loosely hanging his arm around your shoulders. Maybe he would whisper something sweet. Something...spicy.

Fuck, it didn't matter. Anything. Whisper anything, Bucky. Please. You're alive and you're coming home. You can't wait to see the love your life safe and sound. That smart pretty girl you flaunt proudly to your boys. Your squad mates that probably didn't give a damn.

A real killer diller, that guy. Bucky literally would never shut up about you. Steve loves it. His best friend--the Casanova--of forever finally quit being so damned doll dizzy, he found the woman that held him down. Challenged him. Was more than a risky make out under the bleachers. More than a quickie behind that pie shop. More than a 'Oh, you'll definitely see me again, baby.'

It was love. Pure. Need. Want. Desire. Of course, he wanted to do all types of things with you when you met at that sophomore school dance. Steve introduced you to him, giving his old pal the 'Don't fuck this up' glare. You're a sweet girl with wit and a backbone and he learned that quickly.

After graduation, he bought a ring and a locket to put a picture of you in. It wasn't your typical 'Say cheese!' type of thing. More like a candid photo of you - the prettiest you've ever looked in his eyes - where you briefly looked over your shoulder when a butterfly passed you by. Whenever he was sad, nervous, terrified...he opened that locket and just stared at it. The face that could launch a thousand ships into a losing battle.

He was gone and you were sure of it.

He was gone. He was sure of it.

Hanging on by that broken handle, reaching for Steve's hand as if it would actually work. No way. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was an absolute goner.

"Look, look!" he exclaimed, pointing to the stage with a wide grin. His hand holding yours firmly.

"I'm looking, Bucky." you playfully rolled your eyes and took another bite. Having to put the plate just under your chin because he refused to let you slip away.

"Isn't that amazing, babe? It's...beautiful." he said in awe.

"Yes, it is." you replied in a gentle, warm tone and looked at him.

The look in your eyes.

Your smile.

Your laugh.

The powder in the corner of your mouth from the funnel cake he let you have 75% of that he wiped away.

"Nothing is as beautiful as you, darlin'." he murmured, fighting the urge to kiss you all over.

You smiled. He didn't. His eyes soft and attentive.

"I mean it."

"Bucky," he heard his name, but he wasn't scared. He wasn't cold. He wasn't surrounded by rocks and snow. He sat in the train wrapped in a blanket.

Wait, no. That's not a blanket.

Bucky snapped out of it and quickly looked over to his left. Steve had his arm slung over Bucky's shoulders to warm him up.

"Bucky," Steve repeated. "You're okay. I pulled you up to safety and we'll be retrieved soon."

Bucky is okay. Steve was sure of it. Steve made sure of it.

"Stay awake, man. You've got someone waiting for the good news back home."

One week passes.

You stared at the ring on your finger. The ring of promise. Cigarette burning in your right hand and still wearing his shirt with just underwear beneath it. You took care of yourself, yes, but this was permanently apart of your wardrobe.

You hadn't gone out much. Not like you did normally. Your friends worry. Your parents worry. Some soldiers came home with a big smile, happy to see their families. You watched them in the window like an old cat lady.

Your birthday was yesterday. You celebrated with your best friends at a jazz bar because they refused to let you sit at home and mope on your own day.

Turning away from the window, you extinguished the cigarette in a makeshift ashtray since you didn't want to feel like you actually committed to this lifestyle. You could quit any time you wanted and it was just to take the edge off. Ain't it?

The raindrops beat against your window like rent was due. Gray clouds casting over the skies could make anyone forget what time it was. You sighed and stared at the ceiling. You needed to relax. Take your mind away from the chaos for just long enough before you lost it.

You bit your index finger to keep quiet while your free hand worked you through your awaited release. Underwear long discarded on the floor. Shallow, weak breaths and strangled whimpers echoing throughout the living room. The rain was almost like added ambience to the filth running through your mind.

You lifted your hips to get deeper. The wet sounds getting louder by the second and you were about to follow. You whispered his name like it was taboo. Like if anybody overheard you there'd be hell to pay.

"Nothing is as beautiful as you, darlin'." he murmured. "I mean it."

"Fuck- sigh Bucky," you muttered weakly. Your chest rising up and down as you got closer and closer.

"Yeah, baby?"

You moaned pathetically and let your head hit the cushion behind you, long not giving a fuck about the wet spot soaking into the couch.

"Bucky," you whispered. "Please, please, please. Let me do this, please-"

You gripped the cushion behind you, curling your fingers against your slippery warm folds. Letting out a guttural moan but quieting yourself before it could get louder. Your legs seized for a second and your hips jerked. Clear liquid gushing from between your thighs like you left the faucet on.

You slumped into the couch and stared at the ceiling. Deep, heavy breaths like you ran a mile.

"Shit." you licked your lips and sighed. Standing up to see a wet spot so big, you'd just flip the cushion over and take care of it later. You went to the kitchen and washed your hands, resting your elbows on the sink. The rainfall and the running water brought clarity.

He's coming back...you're sure of it...

You wiped yourself down and tossed it. Grabbed that cigarette pack by the stove and, oh, huh. The last one. You scoffed and took it out, tossing the box but you missed.

Knock, knock, knock

You were halfway to picking it up off the ground when you heard the door. Who'd come by in the middle of a storm? You threw the box away and grabbed your lighter, mid flick when the knock came again. You huffed dramatically as you haven't even lit the cigarette yet, but knew you'd have to get decent now.

You quickly flipped the cushion but didn't bother to put your underwear back on and just put it with the laundry. Running to your room you slid on a long skirt that didn't require and zipping or tying any pretty bows. You ran back out and fixed your hair a little in the mirror before you made it to the door. You took a deep breath and opened it, attempting not to look pissed off at whoever was here late at night during a storm.

1933, Homecoming.

"...and she's your type." Steve finished explaining as the two were perched by the juice and snacks stand. Bucky rolled his eyes and popped candy into his mouth.

"I don't have a type." he said. "If she's cute, she's cute. I never pass up on a doll and you know that."

"Yeah, that's the damn problem." Steve muttered and shook his head.

"I just don't get why you're trying to set me up with anyone anyway. Not like I ever had a problem with girls in my entire 16 years of existence."

"That's not the point, Buck. I just think that if you knew someone like her, you'd be a little less..." he trailed off.

"If you say 'doll dizzy' one more time I'm going to walk away."

"I wasn't! But- okay. If you don't like her, I'll...I dunno, you think of something."

"Think it might be too late." he said, not looking at his friend anymore.

"What do you mean?'" Steve asked, watching Bucky jut his chin with a growing smirk in the direction he was looking. Steve followed his eyes and smiled. "That's her."

Bucky almost choked on the candy he was swishing around in his mouth and looked at Steve in disbelief. "That's her?" he asked incredulously. Almost like he was offended.

"I told ya." he said and waved as you approached them. You hugged Steve and got introduced to his gorgeous friend.

"James," he said, taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips to leave a soft kiss while looking you in the eyes. "But everybody calls me Bucky." Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, biting down the urge to make fun of him. You smiled and introduced yourself to him, heart fluttering in your chest.

"Now, Rogers, why has it taken you this long to introduce us?" Bucky said in a dramatic tone. You chuckled and answered for Steve.

"We just met in our chem class not too long ago. We have a project together."

"Had to pair with the smartest one in that class." Steve chimed in. You waved him off and laughed.

"No way. You think a girl could be the smartest in that class?"

"Not just any girl. You." he turned to Bucky and nudged his arm playfully. "The girl's a genius."

"I know. Just wanted to hear you say it." you teased. Steve laughed along while Bucky just watched you. Man alive...you were out of this world.

"Alright, well I'll leave you two alone. Drank a little too much of this sketchy fruit punch." he joked, patting Bucky on his shoulder and walking away. But before he was fully gone he turned and narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "Don't fuck this up" in his eyes.

You two instantly clicked. Interesting conversations, corny jokes that only work because he's pretty, and a whole lotta dancin'. The boy could move and he had no problem showing you. However, in the middle of a particularly slow dance, while you were looking into his eyes and he was looking into yours, his hand not daring to move past your hip...everything about this moment was perfect. Until the power went in and out. The music was becoming static-y and the lights flickered.

"Attention students, there's a storm headed this way soon so it'd be best to just leave now before we get trapped for however long."

The kids in the cafeteria all groaned and jeered as the announcement continued. Mumbling under their breath as they started to file out into the halls. You two looked at each other and laughed, getting out of the dancing stance but he kept your hand tight in his.

The rain came sooner than they thought. So by the time you both made it out it was pouring down and the students started to scatter. Bucky held his suit jacket over your heads with both hands and you hugged his side to stay close as possible.

"A shame the night had to end like this." Bucky said, trying to keep his composure while you clung to him. Your breasts against his chest were driving the poor boy crazy.

"It's not all bad. Got to make a new friend tonight." you said. He walked over to a nearby bus stop and lowered the jacket. When he gave you another look, a real look, he almost froze. Your eyes twinkled so naturally in the moonlight. Or maybe that's the street lamp. Either way, his heart was pounding.

"Just friends?" he asked coolly. Damn bastard never missed a beat. You tilted your head and brushed a piece of confetti from his hair. Those steel blue eyes let you know where home was.

"What was your name again?" you teased. That earned a classic tongue-in-cheek response from him as he nodded.

"So that's how it is, huh?" he said, looking back down at you. "It's

"Bucky?" you said in disbelief. He's at your door completely soaked from the rain. Like a sad, wet cat. His hat barely blocked his face from the rain too. His face littered with faded bruises and cuts but the second he laid eyes on you it's like nothing ever happened.

"...Are you real?" you asked quietly. Bucky stepped into your apartment and just stood there. Ears red from the cold and his jaw tight from trying not to cry at that question. He was riddled with guilt that he had to stay an extra week on base for a reason he didn't care to remember. He looked like he was standing at attention and waited for a command. His body wouldn't move on its own.

He'd done it, hadn't he? Worried you sick and drove you mad. He could tell by the cigarette that dropped from your fingers when you opened the door. He'd understand if you hated him. Oh, but you have his shirt on. You're wearing his shirt and you never took the ring off.

His breath stuttered once he heard the door shut behind you. You didn't even care that he was getting your floors wet.

Bucky is here. In front of you. Steve made sure of it.

He mumbled your name and you were on him in an instant. A kiss. A kiss so sweet, so passionate and real. Pure. His hat fell to the ground but neither of you cared right now. His hands roamed your body like he was making sure you were the real one and not a hallucination.

You pulled away and both of you panted. You held his face and could see the turmoil in his eyes. Unshed tears in your eyes.

"I thought I'd never see you again." he said. Ironic you thought the exact same thing at the exact same time. You finally shed a single tear and took him in your arms. His clothes still wet but it didn't matter. You needed to feel him physically in your arms even if he was trembling.

"How'd you get here in this weather?" you asked. You could feel his shaky breaths against your cheek as he nuzzled into you.

"Took the last train home." he said. You exhaled with your eyes closed for a moment and ran your fingers through his damp hair.

"Let's get your clothes in the dryer." you whispered and patted his back. He backed away looked at you with glossy eyes, 100 different emotions simultaneously flashing at you before quietly agreeing, peeling off his wet clothes and handing them to you. Now left in a white tank and boxers.

You stood in your room in front of your vanity table, staring down at the ring on your finger. After begging the universe to bring him back to you, one would be jumping for joy. But that deep look of leftover fear in his eyes didn't make this any easier.

You felt warm, strong arms wrapped around you from behind. Looking up you saw Bucky with his chin on your shoulder and felt him gently caress your ribs.

"Why is your middle cushion flipped over?" he asked. You froze. Not because you didn't want to tell him, but because you knew he already knew.

"Bucky," you whispered. "Please, please, please. Let me do this, please-"

"I thought about you a lot, too." he continued, planting two kisses on your shoulder. "Every single day."

"Bucky," you said while looking at him through the mirror. "We don't have to do this. We don't have to do anything." you heard him sigh behind you and hold you closer.

"Baby," he said. "I have really seen some shit. I need to feel something. I need to feel you."

He hooked his fingers around the band of your skirt and pulled it down until it pooled around your ankles. When he saw you push your thighs together already, you could feel his soft laugh against your neck.

"You had nothing on but my shirt?" he asked--rhetorically--and pressed himself against your ass. He watched you bite your lip and stifle that pretty sound that he never fails to elicit from you.

"Please," you breathed out and involuntarily arched your back like a cat. "Not right now." You heard shuffling behind you and watched him shove his boxers down quickly.

"Bucky," you whined as your head fell back to his shoulder. He held you tighter and sucked in a sharp breath. His shaft glided past your warm, welcoming walls. Just as he remembered. His hands slid under the shirt and mapped your skin like he forgot how you felt. The sound of him first sliding inside of you was lewd. Dirty. Taboo.

His hips met yours at a slow, sensual pace. He savored the feeling of you wrapped around him like a vice made of silk.

"Always so wet for me," he whispered into your neck. "No matter how long I'm gone...Shame on me for making you worry. I'm so sorry, baby."

You were about to fall apart from the first few strokes already. Fuck, you missed him so fucking much.

"Everyday. I thought about you every. Single. Day." he grunted with each thrust. He was quickly unraveling by the overwhelming feeling of love he had for you. Truly, he thought he'd fall to his knees the second you opened that door.

"Damn it- Come here." he said, pulling back and grabbing your hand. He sat down on your bed and pulled you on top of him, ripping the shirt open to reveal the rest of your body. You sank down on his dick with a whimper, tightly hugging him while he guiding your hips. You ground in his lap with haste, chasing a much needed, long awaited climax with him. Words will never describe how he made you feel. What he did to you. What he was doing right now.

You felt a single tear fall on your shoulder. He groaned quietly as the past week was hitting him all over again. He nearly died, and now he's here. He's not dreaming. His life isn't suddenly flashing before his eyes. This is real. The feeling of your hips meeting his and your walls clamping down on him, letting him know he's didn't lose his groove.

He'd seen some things. Too many things. But this? You made it worth it.

"I love you," he said your name in a shaky tone. More tears streamed down his face as he held you tight again. "Please-" he whispered.

"I love you too." you managed to reply.

"I wanna start a family," he muttered, sniffling and panting as he dragged his hands up your spine. "With you."

You nodded and grinned tiredly, fingers raking through his hair. "Okay." you whispered.

He held your hips down to stop you and look into your eyes. His cheeks flushed, nose red, and eyes watery. In an instant, he could see it. Your entire life together. Him coming home to a beautiful wife and rowdy kids tackling him at the door.

"Seriously?" he said. You held his face and kissed him, resting your forehead on his shortly after.

"Why not?" you said. He closed his eyes and sighed. That's all he needed to hear.

He grabbed your waist and kissed you back. He could feel you were close, hoping to all that's holy that you came together. His tongue desperately delved into your mouth like it was fighting yours. You moaned into his mouth the closer you got to the brink, not daring to pull away.

His came first. A soul rocking climax allowing him to pump his hot seed into you and continue his legacy. Yours came after. A body tensing shock hitting you like a truck, gripped his shoulders for dear life.

"I got you...I got you," he whispered against your lips and never let you go. He wouldn't even dream of it. It took a few seconds for him to stop cumming as you started to calm down. You swallowed thickly and wiped away his tears with shaky hands, kissing his eyelids. He rolled over with you on your back and him hovering you. He looked down at you with such pride and joy.

"I hope it's a girl."

#n3ptoonz #bucky barnes imagine #40s bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant james buchanan barnes #smut #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

78 notes · View notes

amoebadue · 2 days ago

Text

Knight in Shining Armor

Contains/TW: swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse, major character death, jealousy, obsessive tendencies, death of loved ones, yearning, Not canon compliant, Jason can be a real jerk sometimes, probably OOC but it’s fanfiction so it’s good enough I guess, + anything else I missed.

Not proofread

Word Count: 8534

There were three facts about Jason Todd that you were sure of. 1, Jason Todd has lived in the apartment across from you for as long as you’ve known. 2, Jason Todd has hated you for that same amount of time. And 3, Jason Todd has the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.

At 6 years old, you were convinced you would marry him someday. If only he didn’t hate you. You didn’t even know what you did! Well that’s not entirely true, you did remember…

On the first day of first grade you’d spilled glitter glue all over his backpack. He was kind to you when it happened, he’d even walked home with you from the bus stop! But you’d heard his dad yelling at him about ruining his backpack.

Jason didn’t talk to you the next day. Unbeknownst to you, he still watched to make sure you made it home from the bus stop. He continued to do this every day. Even when he was out sick, he’d watch from his bedroom window.

By the end of first grade, he’d started warming up to you again. And by the start of summer, the two of you were inseparable. You’d wander through alleyways, trying to find money on the ground. One time Jason found a $20 bill, but hid it. He wanted to use it to buy you a birthday present, but his father found it and spent it before he could.

Jason vowed to protect you, even going so far as having a fake knighting ceremony in your living room. You’d laid a blanket on the ground, acting as a long carpet leading to your throne—the couch. Jason had kneeled in front of you as you used a whisk, which you insisted was a fairy wand that made the ceremony more legit because it was magical, while you knighted him. You’d declared him your knight-in-shining-armor.

He’d proved himself for the role many times, protecting you from the kids that bullied you at school, sick dogs in the alleyways, even a couple drug dealers that thought you’d stolen from them when they saw you pick up a quarter you’d found on the ground. Jason had taken a curtain rod that was next to the dumpster and slammed it into one of the guy’s knees so you could both run away. That was the first time you’d kissed him, albeit on the cheek. His face flushed red as your lips met his face. He ducked his head and insisted that he was “just doing my duty, Princess.”

—

A few years after that, his mom had died, his father was killed by Two Face and he was being adopted by Bruce Wayne.

He insisted that he’d still be around, but it wasn’t the same. He transferred to Gotham University. His calls went from multiple times a day to far and few between, you’d be lucky to talk to him 4 times in a week. He’d visit even less, and when he did visit— he had bruises lining his arms and knees.

“Does he hit you?”

“Who, Bruce? No way!”

“Then why do you have so many bruises?”

“There’s a lot of stairs in the manor, lots to trip on. And Dick’s there too. We spar sometimes.” He shrugs at you.

You’re silent for a moment. “You know you could tell me if he was, right?” His eyes softened.

“Yeah, I know.” He looked around, scanning the room before his eyes settled on you again. “I’ll visit more. And call more too. Promise. I was just getting settled, things’ll be better now.” You believed him.

And they were.

He’s stop by at least twice a week, flowers in hand and hair slicked back. You’d coo at him as he attempted to mess it up again, muttering about ‘stupid Dick, doesn’t know anything.’

He called everyday, sometimes twice but usually once. But you’d talk for hours as he sat and listened to your voice. Sometimes he’d talk, but he usually just wanted to listen, claiming to be tired.

You had asked to visit the manor and he’d been hesitant at first. He’d only accepted the idea when he and Dick ran into you at a coffee shop. He grinned while you smiled shyly at Dick. He thought you were so cute. His heart clenched. He could only nod along, eyes dazed as he noticed how soft your hair looked today, not even registering that Dick had asked you to dinner at the manor. His head snapped towards Dick.

“I’d love to go!” You winced as you shouted at him, softening your voice before speaking to Jason, “Only if you want me to go…” You trailed off, tapping your foot lightly on the ground.

“What?” He snaps his head towards you, eyes wide. “Of course I want you to go! I just…”

He’s the one trailing off now, eyeing Dick.

“Well, I’ll let you guys have a minute. I have to go find some cereal anyways. Alfred insisted we get a healthy choice but there’s no way I’m giving up my Cinnamon Toast Crunch. And if I leave you here, you can’t be an accomplice, little wing.” Jason glares at Dick as he ruffles his hair.

He turns to you as Dick saunters away. “I do want you to come it’s just that…” You look at him, eyes becoming more guarded the longer he stalls. “I don’t want you to think I’m different.”

“Because you’re rich now? Because you actually have food you can eat? Jay, as much as I loved sneaking food out and eating with you behind the dumpster, I’m glad you have a home now. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He smiled at you.

—

After the first time you had dinner at the manor, it seemed like you never left. You went there as soon as school ended and stayed until dinner. After dinner though, they all insisted you leave—having Alfred drive you home. You didn't mind too much, you still got to see Jason a lot, but you did think it was a bit odd.

Despite the Wayne’s insistence that you leave at 7 pm every evening, Jason was still always there for you. He held you as you cried after your parents had died in an attack by the Joker. He’d taught you how to fight when you were getting picked on at the orphanage. He brought you flowers every week, so you’d have something to put on your parents’ graves.

As the years passed, many things changed, but your relationship with Jason never did. He treated you like a princess, and he acted as your knight-in-shining-armor.

This continued until you were 15. It continued, until Jason died. Mr. Wayne was the one that told you. You didn’t believe him at first. You didn't want to believe him. He wouldn’t let you see the body. You yelled at him, screamed that you hated him. He held you while tears wracked your body.

You didn’t talk to him much after that. He’d reach out every couple weeks but you didn’t want to talk.

You didn’t talk to Dick much either, or Tim—who you’d met in passing once.

After 3 months, you were sitting on the rooftop, knees tucked to your chest. You were still grieving just as much as the day you’d found out. You weren’t sure how much longer you could go on. Each day without him somehow felt worse than before. You’d found yourself growing numb to everything around you.

You sighed, tears streaming down your face.

“I miss you Jay. I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss the way you always insisted on testing my food to make sure it wasn’t poisoned. I even miss the way you’d tug on my hair when I wasn’t paying attention during class. I miss the way you’d read Jane Austen to me over the phone when I couldn’t sleep. I just miss you.” Your heart ached as you spoke, it ached even more when you stopped.

You squeezed you eyes shut, standing up. You walked closer to the edge, arms out—feeling the breeze whip around you as it began to rain.

You opened your eyes as you heard a voice behind you.

“Y/N L/N.” You whipped around toward the sound. “You have great loss in your heart.” A pink glow floated near you, your eyes widened. You stepped back, falling off the roof.

The pink glow zoomed toward you as you fell. You closed your eyes, maybe you can see Jason now. You focused on the wind whipping around you as you felt something slide onto your finger. You opened your eyes to see a pink glow enveloping the ring that now rested on your right hand.

“What?” You’d stopped falling now, hovering several feet above the ground—upside down.

“A choice now presents itself.” Your eyebrows furrowed as the voice sounded again. “Turn away or embrace the light and allow the Star Sapphire to fill the hole of your broken heart so that you may continue to battle hate and fear across the universe.”

“I accept.”

—

As time passed, you gained control of your new powers and made some friends within the Star Sapphire Corps. This didn’t stop you from missing Jason but it helped.

Carol Ferris was another member of the Corps. She decided to take you under her wing—even making a point to move you into her home where she lived with Hal Jordan, who was introduced to you as a Green Lantern. The two of them became pseudo-parents to you, despite how much you tried to avoid it.

Some of Hal’s other Green Lantern friends would stop by, on Earth and while in space. You figured it out pretty soon that he’d told them to keep an eye on you. It was pretty easy, especially when Kyle couldn’t seem to keep a secret from you.

Yours and Kyle’s patrols often lined up, both your Corps deciding to team you up for missions. It was nice to have a friend—especially one your own age—despite his somewhat obvious crush on you.

Somewhere between fighting galactic threats and weekly movie nights, Kyle had wormed his way into your heart. You’d even come to consider him your best friend.

About a year after your new routine began; fight space threats, do your schoolwork, watch movies with Kyle, make dinner for Hal and Carol, Kyle had shown up on your doorstep with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. His face burned as you looked at him but he stayed strong.

“Everytime I’m in space and you’re here, I can’t wait to get my feet back on the ground. And when you’re in space and I’m stuck on Earth it feels like the ground is burning my feet.” He took a breath in and you tilted your head at him. He whispered your name before clearing his throat and starting over, “I know we’re usually teamed up or hanging out but I want more of your time, more of you. Do you want to go out with me?” To his credit, he stayed really strong as you stared at him silently.

“Of course, Kyle. I’d love to go out with you.” You look down, taking in what he’s wearing.” “Now?”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, polo shirt raising a but so you can see the lines of muscles that sit above his Khaki pants. “Yeah, I was going to ask you before I got called into space and I just got back an hour ago. The museum is throwing a fundraiser with the aquarium to raise money tonight.”

“Let me change and then we can go.” You pulled him inside, leaving him in the kitchen while you went to change. You pretended not to hear his cheers from the other room. You smiled at the sound. For the first time in a long time, you felt loved.

—

As more time passed, you and Kyle had grown closer. Your relationship grew as well as your friendship. His face still flushed when you smiled at him, and his hands still shook when he gave you flowers.

You loved him. Of course you did, how could you not? He was kind and smart and talented. And he treated you well. He carried bags for you while shopping; he took your shoes off for you after date nights; he learned how to bake your favorite dessert.

He protected you on missions while also respecting your ability to take care of yourself—usually. Sometimes he got a bit overprotective; but you were worse, almost obsessive when it came to his safety. He was a lot stronger than you though, so there wasn’t much you could do to protect him that he couldn’t do himself—but you always had his back.

Anytime Kyle saved you on a mission, Hal joked that Kyle was your knight in shining armor. Your heart panged less and less each time the joke was made. Jason would want you to move on, he’d be glad you found someone else to protect you.

After graduating high school, the two of you moved to New York together when he went to college. He often used you as a model for his artwork. He’d try to hide his sketchbook; not wanting you to see the pages filled with sketches of you—he’d gone through 4 books now. You were his favorite thing to draw.

You worked part time as a barista at a local coffee shop, that was all you could do though as you spent most of your time in space. Carol would send you money, still wanting to help even after you’d moved out but you’d always send it back. If you needed help you’d ask, but you weren’t going to accept any until then.

When you still lived with Carol and Hal, they’d introduced you to the Justice League. You noticed the way Batman stared at you. He had saved you a couple times—you figured he was staring because he remembered you. Hal assured you that he stared at everyone.

Kyle introduced you to some of the younger heroes. Nightwing was kind, if not a bit overbearing. You and Starfire became friends instantly, bonding over your shared love of pink and time spent in space. Everyone else on the team seemed to love you, which was good because that was your whole thing—love.

You hadn’t noticed the way Nightwing tensed when Kyle put a hand on your back. Or how he frowned when Kyle whispered in your ear. Kyle noticed though, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure why Nightwing insisted on keeping his identity for so long; you’d been part of the team for almost a year now, even going as far as saving his live twice, but he still insisted on not telling you.

He knew you both were from Gotham, maybe you’d met before? You hadn’t mentioned ever meeting Nightwing though. You mostly only talked about your old friend/boyfriend—refusing to call him ex as that had seemed too negative of a word for him.

—

More time passed—as did more missions.

Kyle had made some new friends of the Outlaws. He and Roy were already friends, having been on the same team for a bit, but he was hanging out with a guy named Red Hood more often. That’s what he always called him when he was talking to you—he didn’t want to upset you by mentioning the name Jason.

Kyle knew you still loved Jason Todd, even after all these years. But he also knew you were in love with him, he could tell by the way your eyes lit up when you saw him. And the way you smiled shyly every time he kissed you. And the way you always made sure he had eaten.

Kyle also knew you loved him too much. Almost an unhealthy amount. It was typical for Star Sapphires to love too much, for their love to be suffocating. He didn’t mind, he loved you and loved that he knew you loved him back. He didn’t mind the glares you’d send to other girls when they looked a bit too long; or the way your hands tightened around his own when someone got too close. He didn’t mind wiping away your tears when he got hurt on a mission, or when he was away too long. He also didn’t mind you tagging along on his missions, unable to be apart from him for too long.

Hal had warned him of this happening when he’d first noticed his feeling. Apparently Carol was the same way—it’s just a Star Sapphire thing.

Because of how much you loved him, he didn’t mind that you still cared for Jason—writing it off as a product of your ring’s effect on you.

But sometimes, Kyle couldn’t help but wonder if you’d choose him if Jason were to come back. After hearing about Red Hood’s return from the dead, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He hadn’t even considered that Red Hood was the same Jason, that’s why he hadn’t hesitated to invite him to his upcoming art show. All of the titans and outlaws were coming—along with you, of course.

Granted, Kyle probably should’ve considered the outcome of such a meeting happening, between you and Jason. The same Jason you thought was dead. The same Jason who was friends with your current boyfriend. But was it really Kyle’s fault if he hadn’t known? He should’ve known…things were going too well for him recently.

—

The first thing he thought of when he woke up was you. The second thing he thought of was how mad you were going to be that he’s waited years to find you again. But he wanted to be better for you; not so focused on revenge, not so angry. He wanted to be deserving of you.

When he first got back, Dick had been insistent that they find you again. Insisting that you’d be better off knowing he was back, but Jason wasn’t convinced.

He stopped suddenly a few months back, going from texting him daily about finding you to not bringing it up. Jason thought that was odd after how insistent he was previously, but anytime he tried to bring you up, Dick would change the subject with a tense expression on his face.

Jason tried to wave it off as nothing but as time passed he grew more suspicious.

While Jason worked on returning to some semblance of normal, he’d made some new friends, formed the Outlaws and started mending his relationship with his family.

Speaking of family, Dick had dragged him out to a bar to get drinks with some of their friends. He grinned as Roy cheered, patting them on the back. He looked like he was already a couple drinks in.

“You’re late!” He yelled at Dick.

Jason swatted his hand away as he ruffled his hair—no mind that Jason was taller than him. “Sorry, man, this one didn’t want to leave the house.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “Well I’m here now.” He slid into the seat beside Roy.

“How’s Lian?”

“She’s good! Kyle’s girlfriend is watching her tonight. Only way we’d both be able to be here.” He kicked Kyle under the table.

“Hey! It’s not my fault I want to spend all my free time with her. You’re just jealous that you don’t have a girl.”

Roy stuck his tongue out while Kyle mimed crying at him. Jason laughed as Dick slid into the seat beside Kyle, bringing with him a round of drinks.

They all looked at Kyle as he pushed his glass towards Dick.

“Not drinking?” Jason raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, the missus doesn’t like when I drink. Plus we were gonna catch a midnight showing at the theater later. I’d rather not pass out before then.”

Roy huffed, “You’re not even married yet, you can’t call her that!” Jason eyed Dick as he tensed beside Kyle.

“Sure I can! We’ll be married soon enough. I already asked Hal and Carol if I could marry her, they were both ecstatic.” He grinned, patting his jacket. “I’ve got a ring already. Planning to propose next weekend, Carol’s got a cabin up north.” His smile softens as he says your name, “She loves the water. Figured I’d make a boat for her…or maybe she’ll make it since she likes pink so much.”

“Your girlfriends a Star Sapphire?” Jason questioned.

Roy laughed, slapping his shoulder excitedly. “Oh yeah! She like the Star Sapphire. Obsessed with him too. Follows him around everywhere. Although he’s just as bad. Only reason he came out tonight was because I dragged him after they’d gotten to my apartment.”

Kyle glared back playfully before a dopey grin spread across his face. “She’s awesome. And super smart. She’s gorgeous, I mean I’m lucky she even looked twice at me—”

Jason tuned him out as he couldn’t help but think of you. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken up on the rooftop, next to you, after hours spent stargazing—although he usually spent more time looking at you.

Eventually he snapped out of his daydream when he realized everyone was staring at him. Roy nudged his shoulder.

“You good, man?”

“Yeah, yeah, just thinking.” He mumbled dismissively.

“Okay, well, are you ready to go? Bars shutting down. Based off the looks the bartender is sending us, if we don’t leave now I think he’s gonna start throwing the stools.”

They all stood up, Jason tugged his jacket on.

“Kyle and I are headed back to my place, you guys coming?”

“No!” Dick shouted, face turning red. Jason frowned at him, he’d been awfully quiet all night. “Jay and I have to get back to the cave.” He avoided eye contact with Jason who looked bewildered. “B’s expecting us.” He stammered.

Everyone stood, shocked, looking at Dick’s panting form.

“Wow, if you don’t wanna hang out anymore just say that.” Roy nudged him, snickering.

“I know you don’t like her but geez.” Kyle stared, expression tense.

“What? No! It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s just that—”

“Dude, you’ve known her for over a year, she’s saved your life—multiple times—and you still won’t tell her your identity! Of course you don’t like her. If it’s because she’s a Sapphire, she’s not gonna turn evil suddenly. She wouldn’t do that.”

Jason furrowed his brow at that. Dick was acting really weird. Was Dick in love with her? Maybe he does need to meet this girl.

“I don’t need to go to the cave, I’ll probably just crash at your place, if that’s alright?” He nodded at Roy who agreed immediately. Dick flinched…noticeably…which just finalized Jason’s decision to meet Kyle’s girlfriend.

“No!”

“What?”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You just can’t, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because Kyle’s girlfriend is your girlfriend!” Dick looked like he was going to throw up. Jason froze. Roy’s mouth fell open in surprise.

“What?!” Kyle looked like he was going to pass out.

“I—I mean, she’s…she used to— her and Jay…before he died, dated?” He finished his subpar explanation.

“You’re the Jason?” Kyle turned to him.

“You’re dating my girlfriend?” Jason was mad no. No—he was furious. He rounded on Dick, “You knew? You knew she had a boyfriend and didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me?” He was shouting now, “That’s not something you keep from someone, Dick!” They both knew he didn’t mean it as his name. “That’s not something you keep from your brother.” He spit the last part out, slamming his shoulder into Dick’s as he passed.

“Jay, wait!” Dick was running after him, but Jason didn’t want to talk. He sat heavily on his bike, revving it as he peeled away down the street.

He was furious. And sad. And jealous. He wanted to kill someone.

—

Kyle was freaking out. He has to tell you! But what would you say? What would you do? Who would you choose? He knew you loved him, but you loved Jason too. He’d always felt like he couldn’t live up to his memory, but then you’d smooth his hair and pepper kisses to his face, and all those fears would melt away. But now? His fears were real. Jason was real. Jason was alive.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait up, I’m coming with.”

“No, I gotta do this on my own.”

“No, I have to come with, she’s babysitting my daughter.” That seemed to snap some sense back into Kyle.

“Oh yeah, right.” A pause.

“What’re you going to do?”

“I have to tell her. She’d hate me if I kept this from her. I can’t propose if she doesn’t know, if I’m lying to her—aw man, I can’t propose at all!” He threw his head into his hands, “She’s going to be so conflicted.”

“She loves you.” Roy grabbed his shoulder.

“But she loves him too.” Roy knows this, Kyle had mentioned it once when they first started dating.

“I didn’t know it was him, really.” Kyle nodded at him, Roy wouldn’t lie to him. Dick Grayson on the other hand? Currently—public enemy number one.

“What do I even say? ‘Hey, Babe! Remember your ex, sorry, can’t say ex because you respect him too much, remember your previous boyfriend? The dead one. He’s alive! And also a crime lord. And also still in love with you, and one of my best friends! Surprise! Anyways, let’s get married.’” He froze, “What if she thinks I’m only proposing so she’s stuck with me before Jason can take her away?” He turned to Roy, eyes wide. “What if Jason kills me?” He groaned, slamming his head into the wall of the building next to them.

“Okay, first, her marrying you wouldn’t mean she’s stuck. She could easily divorce you. Or cheat.” He rushed to explain as Kyle let out another groan. “Not that she would! And two, he’s not going to kill you.” He considered it for a minute, “Okay, so he might kill you.”

“You are the least helpful person ever, man.”

Roy laughed, eyes alight with mischief, “What if you challenge him to a duel in her honor? You could even use your ring to construct a joust tournament.” Kyle glared at him.

“He’d shoot me.” Roy hummed at that, he likely would.

Kyle froze as his phone started ringing. It was you. He threw the phone at Roy.

“What do I do?”

“Answer!”

“What are you doing?” Both men snapped their head towards the screen, apparently the call had already started.

“Uh…nothing?” You hummed, eyes narrowing—but they couldn’t see that.

“Lian’s asleep. Will you be back soon?” Kyle looked at Roy frantically.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll be back soon.”

“Okay. Just you two?” Roy bit out a quick yes, ready to end the call. “Hmm, that doesn’t have anything to do with the call I just got from Dick does it?”

Kyle froze at your words, voice shaking, “What call from Dick?”

You grew suspicious as his voice squeaked, “Just that Jason wasn’t feeling well and had to go home?”

“You know about Jason?” Kyle smacked the back of Roy’s head.

“Look, we’re headed back now. We’ll be there in a few minutes, we can talk more then.” He paused, waiting for you to respond but you don’t, before adding, “I love you.”

He heard you sigh, “I love you too, Kyle.”

He could only hope you still did after your next conversation.

—

You opened the door when the boys got back. Kyle wrapped his arms around you in a hug, seemingly unwilling to let you go. You softened against him and bunched his shirt in your hands. You listened to the sound of his heavy breathing, you could feel his heart beating inches from your head. Pounding.

“Are you okay?” You ask, not pulling back.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He mumbles something else into your hair. You laugh as he nuzzles his nose along the top of your head.

Roy clears his throat from somewhere behind you, you create a pink construct to shoo him away. “This is my house!”

You pull away from Kyle, glaring as you shush him. “Lian is sleeping! Be quiet before you wake her!”

Roy gives you a mock salute, not wanting to agitate you any more before your conversation with Kyle.

Kyle placed a hand on your back, guiding you towards the window. You realized something must be wrong in order for you to go out the window and not the door. “We need to talk.” You froze at his words.

“Talk? About what?” You tilted your head to the side, looking up at him with wide eyes. He cursed under his breath, fighting everything in him not to kiss you—now’s not the time.

“We’ll talk at home.”

“No, tell me now.” He sighed.

“Please. You’ll want to be home for this.” Kyle felt like his heart was going to give out as he watched your face scrunch up. “Please.” He said your name softly. You nodded, walking towards the window.

“Bye, Roy. Tell Lian I had fun tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.

—

You’d arrived home several minutes later, having used your rings to fly. He’d guided you to the couch, taking your hands in his. As he explained he watched your eyes dart around the room, as if looking for him.

He’d expected you to react poorly, to throw something, scream, cry, something…anything; but he didn’t expect silence. You nodded once and stood up from the couch, heading into the kitchen to finish cleaning some leftover dishes.

“I’m here for you, if you need anything.” Kyle wanted to ask what was going to happen between you two; wanted to ask if you still loved him, still wanted him, if he was enough; but he knew it wasn’t the time. He needed to support you. You needed him. Anything he wanted would have to wait.

You hummed at his words.

He didn’t get any response from you that night. Or the next morning. He didn’t hear a word from you before he was called to Oa for an important mission.

“I can stay.” You turned to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“Go.” He doesn’t like the way you whisper it.

“I can stay, you need me.”

You smiled softly, resting a hand on his cheek. “The universe needs you. Go save it, hero.” He leaned into your tough, hesitating before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Call me. For anything.” You nodded, leaning into his touch. He paused, enjoying the feeling of you pressed against him. Savoring this moment. “I love you.”

You smiled up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I love you too, lightning bug.” He kissed you harder this time, wanting to still feel your lips against his as he left this sector.

He gave you one last longing glance as he stepped through the window. You sighed, watching as the glowing green light disappeared.

You smiled, touching your lips—still feeling his own against them.

—

Jason was a wreck. It had been two days since that night at the bar. Two days since he found out you were dating Kyle. A lantern? Really?

The safe house he was in was a mess; shattered glass from the dishes he’d thrown, couch overturned.

He sighed, sinking down against the wall, head in hands. He missed you. So much. But you were gone. You weren’t his anymore.

He felt his anger rising as he thought of you moving on. Kyle had mentioned that you two have been together for a couple years. So what, a year and a half? Two years? That’s how long it took you to get over him? He stood up, grabbing his jacket.

He needed to see you, needed to know. Maybe they were wrong, maybe it wasn’t you? He knew that was just wishful thinking. He scoffed. Of course you had a boyfriend. You were so…wonderful. Anyone would be lucky to have you. He was lucky to have you for as long as he did.

He found himself cursing the Joker for killing him all over again. Then he cursed himself. If he’d come back as soon as he’d woken up from the Lazarus Pit, he could still have you. You wouldn’t have fallen in love with Kyle.

He slammed his door on the way out, trying to distract from his rage. He couldn’t show up like this. Not while he’s this angry. He cracks his neck as he settles on top of his bike. Hands clenching the handles as he drove off towards New York. Hopefully he’d be a bit less angry by the time he arrived.

—

You opened the door to see Jason, your Jason. He should’ve looked terrible, all sweaty and huffing in anger, but to you he looked perfect. Although, you figure, this is definitely an improvement to the dead picture of him you’d been imagining in your head.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, leather jacket, dirty jeans, tousled hair—the white streak is new, you note. You open your mouth to speak, to say anything, but you can’t.

He says your name, softly. Reverently. Your eyes snap to his, you notice there are specks of green in them now—that’s new too.

You reach up, skimming your fingers against the scar on his cheek. “Jay?” He leans into your touch before pulling back suddenly, but that doesn’t deter you.

“You’re…alive? Really, actually alive?” He nods harshly, as if not in control of his own actions.

He tenses as you rush forward to hug him, sobbing into his chest. He tries to stay still, guarded, but he can’t resist wrapping his arms around you. It had been six years since he’d seen you last—and now you were standing here, hugging him. He pressed his face to your hair, breathing you in.

The two of you stayed there like that for several minutes until your neighbor came out and reminded you that you were standing in your open doorway. You tugged him inside and shut the door, ignoring your neighbor’s curious gaze.

You watch as Jason scans the apartment, freezing at the pictures of you and Kyle on the wall. You freeze too.

“How long?” He mumbles, giving you a sideways glance.

“What?”

“How long have you two been together?” He needed to hear it from you, needed to know.

“Four years this fall.” He shoots you a scathing look and scoffs.

You narrow your eyes at him, “What?” Your voice is defensive as you ask.

“You couldn’t even wait two years for me. I waited six years for you! And you couldn’t even manage two.” He glared at you. You frowned, he’d never looked at you like that before.

“You were dead, Jason. There was no one to wait for!”

He scoffs again, despite knowing you were right. But he hated that you weren’t his. Hated that another man got to have you. He turned away suddenly, walking closer to the pictures. He stopped at one off to the right. A strip of pictures from a photo booth. The bottom photo was covered by mesh writing but he could tell the two of you were kissing.

If kisses were stars, I’d give you the sky.

-your knight in shining armor

Jason stepped back, heart dropping to his stomach. He turned to you, glaring.

“I would’ve waited forever for you. You couldn’t even wait two years before throwing yourself at the first man to show you any attention. I never would’ve asked you out, never would have loved you, if I knew you were such a pathetic whor—”

He was cut off by your gasp, hands trembling. His gaze softened, reaching for you out of instinct but you backed away from him as if burned. He tried to remember what he’d said. His blood ran cold as he remembered.

He whispered your name. No response, you just continued backing up, stopping when you backed into the couch. He tried again, stepping towards you. A cry tore out of your throat.

“Get out.” Your voice was icy—guarded. He didn’t mean to say that. He would never mean that. He tried to explain but you weren’t listening, “Get out.” You repeated, louder this time.

“Y/N— I didnt…” He trailed off as you refused to meet his gaze.

“Get out!” You were moving forward now, pushing against his chest. “Go!” You kept crying and hitting and yelling. “I don’t want you here. Leave. Get out!”

You were pushing him still, pounding against his chest. Sobbing hysterically as he wouldn’t budge.

“Y/N—”

“Go. Now. Or I’ll call the cops.” He didn’t believe you but he was just making things worse by staying.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out the words.

You didn’t falter, just kept hitting and pushing and crying.

You slammed the door behind him as he left, falling down against it as sobs wracked your body.

—

Kyle was exhausted by the time he got back to Sector 2814. All he wanted now—the entire time he was gone—was to see you. Hold you. Kiss you. He just wanted you to be okay, for you to still love him. He could only hope you did. You’d always been understanding about him leaving before—you often had to do the same—but he’d never left you like this. Not when you needed him.

He cursed himself as he stood in the elevator, waiting to get to his floor. He never should've gone. He should’ve asked Hal to cover for him. Or Guy, or John.

He shook his head, rubbing his hands restlessly through his hair as he left the elevator. He hadn’t wanted to wake you by going through the window.

“Kyle?” He snapped his head up as he heard a soft whisper of his name coming from the doorway across from yours.

“Oh, hey, what’s up?” He couldn’t remember her name, too distracted by the way your hands had moved excitedly when you’d met your new neighbors.

“I just wanted to warn you. About your girlfriend. There was a guy here while you were gone. They were hugging in the hallway for a long time before she’d tugged him into the apartment.” She spoke softly, almost worried you’d overhear. Kyle frowned as she continued, “I just wanted to let you know. I’d hate for you to be misled.” She pouted before batting her eyelashes, “Anyways, if you need a place to stay, I have more room here…I just got a queen bed.” Kyle flinched back as she started touching his arm. You’d always hated her after a party one of your other neighbors had thrown. You told Kyle she’d been flirting all night, he hadn’t noticed—too busy sketching you onto his napkin.

“Okay.”

She scoffed, “Okay? That’s it? I tell you your girlfriend is cheating and you say okay?”

“You actually said she’d hugged a guy and then brought him inside. And then you offered me to sleep with you despite knowing I have a girlfriend.”

She glared at him, huffing as she slammed her door. He winced, that definitely would have woken you up.

He opened the door to your shared apartment quietly, hoping not to disturb you further.

“Kyle?” You sniffled.

He turned, suddenly on full alert. “Are you okay?”

Another sniffle, “Yeah, just missed you.” He turned the light on, frowning as he saw your mascara stained cheeks.

“I’m here now.” He scooped you up before setting you in his lap as he sat on the couch. You curled in closer to his chest, burrowing your face into his neck. He tried not to shiver as your tears grew cold against his skin. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry.” He tensed under you.

“Why?” He said the word slowly, as if he didn’t want to ask.

“I, you’ve been so, I love you. But I—” You inhale shakily, “I love you but I still…” You trailed off, unable to face him.

“Love Jason?” You nodded, pulling away. He didn’t let you move far, tightening his arms around your waist. “Did anything happen?” You knew what he was asking.

“We just hugged. For a while.”

He let out a relieved laugh before speaking, “Yeah, the neighbor told me that.” You tensed in his hold, once again trying to pull away but he wouldn’t let you. “She also offered me room in her bed if I had to move out.” He needed to get all of this out. “But I dealt with it, so you don’t need to go over there and yell or fight, okay?” You didn’t answer, just kept squirming and huffing. “Okay?” He repeated.

“Fine.” You bit out and he loosened his grip on you.

“Okay. Now do you want to talk about what happened with Jason?”

Your eyes started watering again at his name. You mumbled something into his shirt.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He wanted you to talk, needed to know what had happened. But he’d wait until you're ready. He let you cry into his chest as he rubbed his hand up and down your back. He hummed softly, knowing it helped you relax.

30 minutes later, you’d cried yourself to sleep. He scooped you up again, this time walking you to the bedroom. He laid you down, tugging the covers up over you before turning off the lights. You’d be upset to have fallen asleep without brushing in the morning, but for now you needed to rest.

He snuck into the bathroom, quickly brushing before sliding in bed next you you. You stirred softly as his arms wrapped around you, but didn’t wake. He planted soft kisses against your shoulders as he drifted off to sleep beside you.

—

After leaving your apartment, Jason headed straight for the Manor. Despite their disagreements, Bruce often offered good advice. And he was going to need all the advice he could get if he wanted to redeem himself.

He knocked on Bruce’s study, peeking his head in. “B?”

Bruce looked up from the documents covering his desk—Jason couldn’t tell if they were Wayne Enterprises or Batman related, nor did he care.

“Jason?”

“I messed up.” Bruce stood, beckoning Jason into the room. They both moved to sit on the couch, keeping several inches of space between them.

“What happened?”

“I went to see Y/N.” He said your name softly, regretfully. Bruce nodded, he’d figured that’s where Jason would end up after Dick had called him frantically, shouting about how he was the worst brother ever and that Jason would never forgive him.

Jason continued with a shaky breath, “Dick said she was dating Kyle Rayner.” He sighed, elbows resting on his knees. “I wasn’t nice to her.” He scoffed, sitting up. “Actually, I was awful to her!”

“What are you going to do now?” Jason snapped his gaze toward his father.

“What do you mean?”

“You messed up. Now you need to apologize.” Bruce softened, hand squeezing Jason’s shoulder. “I know how much you care for her, how much you’ve always cared.” He sighed. “Dick and I weren’t there for her much after you died. A few months later, she’d gotten a Star Sapphire ring.” Jason nodded, Kyle had explained all the rings to him once—he knew the Star Sapphire’s were love.

“She got the ring because of me?” Bruce nodded.

“She needed it. The few time I spoke to her afterwards, she barely seemed human. The ring saved her. It gave her a purpose, filled the hole that you’d left behind. Carol Ferris met her through the corps, and convinced her to move in with herself and Hal.” Bruce continued his story, filling Jason in on everything he’d missed involving you.

Jason nodded, thinking; if the ring went to you because you loved him—maybe he still had a chance. But he had a lot of grovelling to do first.

—

You woke up to Kyle tracing a finger up and down your spine. You turned around, smiling widely at him. He grinned down at you, hands grabbing onto your hips as he rolled himself on top of you.

“Hi.”

“Hi, honey.” You tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Your hair is longer.”

“It grew out while I was in space. Wanna cut it for me?”

You grinned. You always loved getting to cut his hair. “Yes!” He rolled the two of you over so you were sitting on his stomach.

“Okay, but first we should eat something.”

“Oh oh! What about that new cafe down the street? They just opened while you were gone. I don’t want to go without you.” You smiled shyly as he grinned at you.

“You’re so sweet, baby. Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course! Plus it would be no fun without you.” He smiled at you, lazily watching as you hopped around the room getting ready.

—

A few hours later, you’d eaten at the cafe and cut his hair. Kyle was growing more worried by the minute. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the uncontrollable sobs or the acting like nothing was wrong. He decided to bring it up at dinner.

“Are you alright?” He watched you angrily cut carrots, barely missing your fingers. He quickly grabbed the knife, guiding it down slowly. He turned you to face him. “It’s okay to be upset.”

You glared at him, “I’m not upset.” He hummed at that. “I’m not!” He just continued cutting the carrots that you were already cutting. “Really, okay?! I’m fine! Nothing to be upset about! Except maybe the fact that you totally took over making dinner. What, I’m so pathetic I can’t even cut a carrot?” You’d said the last part, hoping he wouldn’t hear. He stopped his cutting at your words.

“Pathetic? What? No, honey, I’d never think your pathetic. Why would you think that?” He grabbed your hands, clasping them in his.

You glared at the ground, “I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow at you, ducking slightly to meet your gaze. He frowned. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Jason, does it?” You froze as he spoke, confirming his suspicions. “Did he say that to you? Did he call you pathetic?”

“No, maybe—I mean he didn’t mean it, I’m sure but—I don’t know.” You sighed, leaning into Kyle’s hold. He tightened his arms around you before moving back.

He held your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “You’re not pathetic. Okay? You’re anything but! You’re smart and gorgeous and kind. You’re literally a superhero! You are so far from pathetic, okay?” You nodded noncommittally and pulled back, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Are you mad at me?” Kyle gave you a surprised look.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“About Jason. I invited him in and I told you I still love him and you’ve spent this entire time trying to make me feel better! Why wouldn’t you be mad?”

Kyle sighed, leaning against the counter. “Your boyfriend died, which resulted in you getting a magical ring that not only gived you superpowers, but it also messes with your emotions—a lot. Then you found out your dead boyfriend is actually alive, and he is mad that you didn’t spend the rest of your life waiting for him, despite the fact that he was literally dead. I think you’re allowed to be upset. And still love him. The Star Sapphire Corps’ whole thing is love. Of course you’d still love him! I just hope you’ll still be in love with me when all of this is over.” He says the last bit, softer—avoiding eye contact.

You softened, eyes tearing up as you looked at him. He looked exhausted. “Oh Kyle, of course I’ll still be in love with you. I’m always going to love you. Forever. You’re it for me, okay? As much as I love Jason, as much as I miss him—I love you more. You’re kind and generous and so so thoughtful. Even more than that, I feel safe with you—whether it’s fighting intergalactic crime or grocery shopping, I don’t have to worry because I know you’re there.” You wrap your arms around his torso, tucking your head beneath his chin. “I love you, Kyle Rayner. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, and more than I ever will.”

—BONUS—

It was another week before you decided to answer any of your friends' calls. The first one you’d answered was Roy—and that was only because he needed an emergency babysitter. He and the Outlaws were going on a mission and would be gone for a couple days. Well, a couple days turned into a week…which turned into two. By day 11, they’d called Kyle in for backup. He quickly agreed to lend a hand—planning to talk to Jason about what had happened.

As much as Jason hated Kyle for stealing you, he did appreciate his willingness to help. He did not, however, appreciate being cornered on the jet ride home.

“Move, man. I need to get to my bag.”

“One second, okay? I just want to talk.” Jason crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s up?”

“It’s about Y/N.”

“What about her?”

“What did you say to her?” Jason tensed at that.

“We didn’t actually do much talking.” Kyle frowned at his words.

“You called her pathetic?” Kyle asked, already seeming to know the answer. Jason flinched.

“It’s none of your business.” He tried to step around him but a green construct appeared in his way.

“Actually, it is my business. When I find my girlfriend crying over something another man said to her, that makes it my business.” Kyle glared at him.

Jason winced, he’d always hated making you cry.

Kyle took a step closer, arms crossing over his chest. “But that’s not the only think you said to her, is it?” Jason couldn’t tell if he knew or not—but he figured if Kyle knew then he’d have killed him by now.

“I said it’s none of your business.”

“And I said it is my business.”

“Stay out of it, man.”

“No, she’s my girlfriend.”

“She was my girlfriend first!”

“You died! And then when you came back, you didn’t even try to find her!”

“Well, there wouldn’t have been much to find because she’d already been whoring herself out to—” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Kyle swung his fist right into his nose.

Kyle grabbed the collar of his shirt, holding him up. Jason tried to swing at him but green constructs held his arms down. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that ever again. Don’t go near her, don’t talk to her, don’t even look in her direction. You don’t deserve to.” He froze, looking up at Jason’s bloody nose. “Is that what you said to her? You called her a whore?” Kyle laughed bitterly as he set Jason down, constructs disappearing. “You’re the one that’s pathetic. I get that you died and all, but grow up. Life didn’t just stop when yours did.” He started walking away before stopping, “You owe my girlfriend an apology. And flowers.”

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to end this, willing to make a part two if enough people want it. Let me know if you want to be added to my Jason Todd x Reader or Kyle Rayner x Reader taglist!!!🤍

#jason todd x reader #dc x reader #batfam #batman #justice league #teen titans #dc titans #jason todd #green lantern #star sapphire #kyle rayner x reader #kyle rayner #kyle rayner x you #I love Kyle Rayner #dc #dc universe #amoebadue #jason todd x you

65 notes · View notes