#allowing herself to be vulnerable with him

[kpoplustzone]

Designated Fucking IU Smut 

OC X IU

PUBLIC, CAR SEX, CREAMPIE, TEASING

Upcoming stories - Nayeon's Three pets on KOFI - LINK

IU looked at the young man who was taking peeks at her from the driver's seat. IU knew the effect of her beautiful face and body on males. Especially her aura that she had created from years of being a nation's queen. But the young man who cannot be called handsome was now taking liberties to ogle at her made her smile. She had a private meetup with her friends and was too drunk to drive, so she had to contact a designated driver to go home, and being tipsy made her more vulnerable to the man’s rude stares. He shorts skirt, making sure that he was getting a full view of her sexy, toned thighs, and tight shirt giving him a full view of her big, perky breasts. 

IU, feeling a mix of amusement and arousal from the young man's blatant stares, decided to have a little fun with him. She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs slowly, ensuring that her short skirt rode up even higher, giving him an enticing glimpse of her sexy, toned thighs. She knew that the position of her legs would allow him to see almost all the way up to her lace panties, and the thought of his eyes feasting on her made her smile widen.

She leaned back in her seat, arching her back slightly to push her big, perky breasts forward, her tight shirt stretching taut against her flesh. Her nipples, hard and sensitive, pressed against the fabric, and she could imagine the young man's eyes widening as he took in the sight of her. She ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head slightly to mess it up, giving her a tousled, just-fucked look that she knew drove men wild.

IU then brought her hands to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them gently, her thumbs brushing over her hard nipples, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as she teased herself, her eyes locked on the young man's reflection in the rear-view mirror. She could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, his eyes glued to her body, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

She trailed her hands down her stomach, her fingers dancing over her skin as she moved lower, hovering just above the waistband of her skirt. She teased him, pausing for a moment before slowly inching her skirt up, revealing more of her thighs, her panties, and finally, a hint of her smooth, shaved pussy. She could see the young man's breath hitch, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel, his eyes wide with lust and desire.

IU, feeling bold and empowered by his reaction, decided to give him a show he would never forget. She slipped her fingers into her panties, her eyes never leaving his in the mirror as she began to touch herself, her fingers finding her wet, swollen clit. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as she circled her clit, her hips bucking slightly as waves of pleasure coursed through her body.

She could see the young man's cock straining against his pants, his breathing heavy and ragged as he tried to keep his eyes on the road. She smiled to herself, knowing that she had him right where she wanted him. She slipped a finger inside her pussy, her eyes rolling back slightly as she fucked herself slowly, her palm rubbing against her clit with each movement.

The car filled with the scent of her arousal, her moans and the wet sounds of her fingers fucking her pussy the only sounds in the vehicle. She could see the young man's hand moving to his cock, stroking himself through his pants as he watched her, his eyes dark with lust.

She slowly removed her fingers from her pussy, bringing them to her mouth to suck her juices off, her eyes never leaving the young man's in the mirror. She could see his cock pulsing, his body tensing as he came, his hot cum spilling into his pants as he stared at her, a look of pure ecstasy.

IU, her voice sultry and inviting, leaned forward and asked, "Are there any secluded spots nearby? Somewhere private and quiet?"

The young man, catching her drift, nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up with a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Y-yes, there's a spot I know of. It's quiet and secluded. I'll take you there."

He quickly started the car and drove with a newfound sense of purpose, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he rushed towards the spot he had in mind. The drive was short, and within minutes, they were pulling off the road and into a secluded area surrounded by tall trees and dense foliage. The young man parked the car, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned off the engine.

He climbed out of the car, his legs feeling shaky, and stood near her door, not sure what to do next. He could hear his heartbeat, loud and insistent, as he waited for her to make the next move. The door suddenly opened, and he was pulled inside, his body falling onto hers as she lay back on the seat.

IU's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as she kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth with a hunger that took his breath away. He could feel her body pressing against his, her hard nipples poking through her tight shirt, her smooth thighs wrapping around his waist as she ground against him.

"Fuck me," she whispered against his lips, her voice a low, sultry growl. "I want you to fuck me right here, right now."

The young man, his cock already hard and straining against his pants, didn't need to be told twice. He quickly shed his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers as he revealed his toned, muscular body. IU, equally eager, stripped off her own clothes, her breasts spilling free, her hard nipples begging for his touch.

He climbed on top of her, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, and exploring every inch of her sexy, toned flesh. She moaned and arched her back, pressing her pussy against his hard cock, her body begging for him to fill her.

He obliged, positioning himself at her entrance and thrusting into her with a single, powerful stroke. They both moaned in pleasure, their bodies joining as one as he began to move, his hips bucking wildly as he fucked her deeply and passionately.

IU's legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his ass as she urged him on, her body meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. The car filled with the sounds of their moans, the wet slapping of their bodies coming together, and the scent of their combined arousal.

He could feel her pussy clenching around his cock, her body trembling as she neared her orgasm. He increased the pace of his thrusts, his body slamming into hers as he chased his own release, their breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as they neared the edge of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Your pussy is so tight and wet.”

The young man, still hard and throbbing inside her, felt IU's pussy clench and pulse around his cock as she came, her body shaking and trembling with the force of her orgasm. He held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her as she rode out the waves of pleasure, her moans of ecstasy music to his ears.

As her orgasm subsided, she looked into his eyes, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "That was just the start," she purred, her voice sultry and inviting. "Now it's my turn to ride you."

With a strength that surprised him, she pushed him back onto the seat, her body straddling his as she took control. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with awe and desire as he took in the sight of her sexy, toned body, her perky breasts bouncing slightly as she moved, her hard nipples begging for his touch.

IU began to ride him, her hips moving in a circular motion as she took his cock deep inside her, her pussy stretching to accommodate his length and girth. She leaned back, her hands on his thighs for support, her eyes locked on his as she rode him slowly and deliberately, her body moving like a wave as she impaled herself on his cock.

"Fuck, you're so deep inside me," she moaned, her voice a low, sultry growl. "I can feel every inch of your cock filling me up. It feels so good."

He groaned in response, his hands roaming over her body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, and exploring every inch of her sexy, toned flesh. "You're so fucking sexy, IU. Riding my cock like a pro. You feel amazing."

She increased the pace, her hips bucking wildly as she rode him harder and faster, her body slapping against his with each thrust. The car filled with the sounds of their moans, the wet slapping of their bodies coming together, and the scent of their combined arousal.

"Your cock is so big and hard," she panted, her voice breathless with desire. "I love the way it fills me up, stretches me. I could ride you all day."

He groaned, his body tensing as he felt his own orgasm building, his cock swelling inside her as he prepared to release his load. "Keep riding me, IU. Make me come. I want to fill your pussy with my cum."

Her dirty talking and the sight of her sexy body riding his cock sent him into a frenzy, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he met her thrusts, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they chased their releases.

As he was lost in the pleasure, his thoughts raced with the realization of who he was with. *I'm fucking IU, the K-pop sensation. This is a dream come true. I can't believe I'm inside her, feeling her body move against mine. This might be the luckiest day of my life.* He looked up at her, his eyes filled with awe and desire as he took in the sight of her sexy, toned body, her perky breasts bouncing slightly as she moved, her hard nipples begging for his touch.

IU, sensing his gaze, leaned forward, her hands on his chest for support as she rode him even harder, her body slapping against his with each thrust. "I can feel you swelling inside me," she panted, her voice sultry and sexy.

The young man, lost in the pleasure of the moment, could vaguely register the distant hum of one or two cars passing by on the road nearby. Fortunately, the sounds of their passion seemed to go unnoticed by the drivers, their focus likely elsewhere. This added a thrilling layer of excitement to their encounter, knowing that they were so exposed yet unnoticed.

IU, her body trembling with the intensity of her pleasure, clutched onto the seats for support as she rode him with wild abandon. Her high-pitched moans and screams filled the car, a symphony of ecstasy that only served to spur him on. He could feel her pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock, her body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl. "Your pussy is so tight and wet. I love hearing you scream for me."

He began to thrust upward, meeting her movements with equal force, his hips slamming into hers with a rhythm that made the car squeak and rock with each powerful stroke. The sound of their bodies coming together, the wet slapping of their flesh, and the creaking of the car seats added to the erotic symphony, heightening their arousal.

IU, her body glistening with sweat, threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back as she rode him with abandon. "Yes, fuck me harder," she screamed, her voice hoarse with passion. "I love feeling your cock deep inside me. Don't stop, don't ever stop."

He obliged, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he pounded into her, his body slamming against hers with a force that shook the car. The seat beneath them squeaked in protest with each thrust, the sound a testament to the raw, primal nature of their encounter.

"Your cock is so big and hard," she panted, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I can feel every inch of you filling me up. It's so fucking good."

The young man began to move again, his hips starting to grind against hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. IU, still in a daze from the intensity of their encounter, moaned softly, her body responding to his movements as he slowly started to fuck her again.

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth as he continued to move inside her, his cock hardening once more, ready for another round. IU wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, her body molding to his as they moved together in a slow, sensual dance.

Gradually, he increased the pace, his hips bucking against hers, his cock filling her with each thrust. The car began to rock gently with their movements, the seat squeaking in time with their rhythm. IU's moans grew louder, her body trembling with the building pleasure as he pounded into her, their sweat-soaked bodies slapping together with each forceful thrust.

In a smooth, fluid motion, he slowly opened the car door, never stopping his movements as he began to carry her outside, her body still impaled on his cock. IU, lost in a haze of pleasure, was barely aware of the change in their surroundings, her eyes fluttering open and closed as she rode the waves of ecstasy that washed over her.

He stepped out of the car, his strong arms supporting her weight as he continued to fuck her, his cock sliding in and out of her wet, eager pussy. The cool night air hit their sweat-soaked skin, but neither of them noticed, too lost in their passion to care about their surroundings.

IU's eyes fluttered open, and she looked around in a daze, her brain slowly registering that they were outside, in public, and that her bare, naked body was fully exposed to anyone who might pass by. She gasped, her body tensing as she tried to stop him, her hands pushing against his chest.

"Wait, we're outside," she panted, her voice a mix of shock and arousal. "Someone might see us."

He, however, was not about to stop now that he had her out in the open, the thrill of possibly being caught adding to his arousal. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he continued to pound into her, his cock swelling inside her with each deep thrust.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "No one's around. And if they are, let them watch. You're so fucking sexy, IU. I want the world to see you like this."

He increased the pace of his thrusts, his hips moving like a piston as he fucked her deeply and passionately, his cock filling her completely with each stroke. IU's resistance faded as she gave in to the pleasure, her body moving with his, her moans filling the night air as he took her in the most primal of ways.

"Oh god, you feel so good," she moaned, her head falling back, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensation. "Fuck me harder. I don't care if anyone sees. I just need you to fuck me."

He obliged, his body slamming into hers with a force that left them both breathless, their skin slapping together, the sounds of their passion echoing through the secluded spot. The world-renowned idol was now being fucked in public, her bare, naked body exposed, but she didn't care, lost in the pleasure of the moment, her body and mind completely focused on the cock that filled her so completely.

He carefully placed her back onto the hood of the car, her body sliding against the cool metal, a stark contrast to the heat of their passion. With a firm grip on her hips, he spread her ass cheeks wide, exposing her most intimate place to the night air. He could see her pussy, swollen and glistening with her arousal, her inner lips puffy and begging for more attention.

He positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pushed into her, feeling her tight, wet pussy envelop his cock inch by inch. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural sound of pure pleasure. "Your pussy feels like a vice grip, squeezing my cock so fucking good."

IU moaned in response, her head thrown back, her long black hair splayed out against the hood of the car, creating a stark contrast to the metal. Her nipples, hard and sensitive, stood at attention, begging for his touch. He leaned down, taking one into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. He could feel her body respond, her pussy clenching around his cock, her hips bucking against him as she sought more friction.

"Yes, just like that," she moaned, her voice a breathless whisper. "Suck my nipples, make me feel good."

He obliged, his mouth moving to her other nipple, giving it the same attention as he continued to fuck her deeply, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He could feel her pussy clutching at his cock, trying to pull him in deeper, her inner walls rippling around him, massaging his length with each movement.

IU's thoughts raced as she took in the sensation of being fucked in public. *I can't believe I'm doing this,* she thought, a mix of excitement and naughtiness coursing through her veins. *Fucking someone outside, where anyone could see. It's so taboo, so dirty, and I fucking love it.*

She looked down at him, her eyes filled with lust and desire as she ran her hands through his hair, urging him on. "Fuck me harder," she panted. "I want to feel your cock deep inside me. I want everyone to hear how much I'm enjoying this."

He increased the pace of his thrusts, his hips slamming against hers, the sound of their bodies coming together echoing through the night. He could feel her pussy getting wetter, her inner walls clenching and unclenching around his cock as she neared her orgasm.

"Your pussy is so fucking perfect," he groaned, his voice strained with effort. "So tight, so wet, so fucking mine. I love how you're clutching my cock, trying to milk me dry."

IU moaned in response, her body trembling with the building pleasure, her mind a blur of ecstasy and naughty thoughts. *I'm IU, the world-renowned idol, and I'm being fucked in public like a common slut. And I fucking love it.*

Her pussy clenched tightly around his cock, her body convulsing as she came undone, her orgasm ripping through her with the force of a hurricane. "Fuck, I'm coming!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the night, a symphony of pleasure and release.

He could feel her pussy pulsing around his cock, her inner walls milking him, urging him to join her in ecstasy. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushed them both over the edge, his body tensing as he came, his cock pulsing as he released his load deep inside her, their cries of ecstasy mingling in the night air, their bodies joined as one in the most primal of acts.

As their orgasms subsided, they were left sweaty and panting, their bodies slick with a sheen of sweat, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. He could feel his cum leaking from her pussy, dripping onto the car seat beneath them, a testament to the intensity of their encounter.

IU, too spent to move, lay there on the hood of the car, her body glistening in the moonlight, her long black hair splayed out around her, sticking to her sweat-soaked skin. She turned to him, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes filled with a mix of contentment and exhaustion.

"That was the best fuck of my life," she murmured, her voice soft and breathless. "You have no idea how long I've wanted that. To be taken, to be fucked so deeply and thoroughly. You have a talented cock and know how to use it."

He, still in awe of what had just happened, sat beside her, his own body dripping with sweat, a grin spreading across his face as he listened to her words. He was shocked by the opportunity she presented and knew that if he took this job, he would be able to fuck her again and again.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, IU," he said, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "I have to admit, that was one of the most intense experiences of my life. You're incredible."

She turned to him, her eyes serious as she propositioned him. "I have a lot of schedules and private events. I need a driver I can trust. Someone who can be discreet and reliable. Would you be interested in becoming my driver for all my schedules and private events?"

He was taken aback, his mind racing with the implications of her offer. He knew that if he accepted, he would have unlimited access to her, to her body, and to the lifestyle of a K-pop idol. The thought of fucking her regularly, of being her personal driver and lover, sent a thrill of excitement through him.

"Of course, IU," he agreed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I would be honored to be your driver. And who knows? Maybe we can have more nights like this."

She smiled back at him, her eyes filled with promise. "I have no doubt we will. Now, let's get you cleaned up. You have a big responsibility ahead of you."

As they both came down from their high, the reality of their situation sank in. He had just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, and he knew that he would do everything in his power to live up to her expectations. With a final glance at her sexy, sweaty body, he helped her up, and they began to clean themselves, ready to face the world together, their secret bond forged in the heat of passion.

[undyingdecay]

you said requests are back open, so i’d love to hear your thoughts on anal with bob/yelena/walker. doesn’t have to be all of them, could be just one. for funsies, ill elaborate on how i think each of them would view anal

walker totally gets off on the humiliation of not being able to fuck your pussy. he’s relegated to the “dirty” hole because he’s less than you. he can never get close enough, can never rise to be your equal, and that gets him going more than anything.

for bob it’s probably worship. he wants to feel every part of you. i think he’d get riled up from the prep. all the time you spend getting ready and the initial discomfort of the act? that’s basically you returning his devotion in kind. i think the vulnerability is another huge factor. i think he’d take full advantage and soak in the feeling of having you so exposed and trusting of him.

for yelena i think it’s an act with tangible results that she can dedicate herself to. there are so many online resources and toys to take advantage of, and she does. she’s going spend an inordinate amount of time training you to enjoy anal. i also think that when she does anal play, she purposely neglects your clit and vagina. she gets a kick seeing you desperate and squirming.

sorry if this is too much. thank you if you do decide to do anything with this. i love your work! 🫶

(your intuition is actually insane because i had anal for all of them pre written for something else, i was only gonna do one character but might as well use the writing then let it sit in drafts)

john’s an asshole. that’s the truth of it. a hot, mean, broken little thing walking around pretending he isn’t still a boy who can’t live up to the men around him. the idea of him being allowed inside you but only like this? it makes him sweat. it makes his cock ache, twitch against his thigh when you tell him — no, command him — to get on his knees and earn it.

the whole thing’s humiliating in a way he secretly craves. that he’s not good enough for your cunt, not worthy of the softness and heat of it. that he’ll have to settle for the “dirty” hole, take what you give him and thank you for it.

and he does thank you for it. filthy little prayers spilling from his mouth while he’s splitting you open slow, thick hands bruising your hips. he’d probably get so desperate he’d cry about it, rutting into you with sloppy thrusts and saying things like “thank you, thank you, god you’re so fucking good to me.” it’s shameful and you love him for it.

nd bob’s sinful in a way. you had it right from the start. he’s the kind of man who looks at every inch of you like it was made for him to love. the idea of getting to have this part of you? a place so vulnerable, so intimate you wouldn’t trust it to just anyone? it undoes him.

he’s obsessed with the prep. gentle fingers, soothing touches, kissing your thighs and belly while you relax for him. the way your body clenches around him, that faint sting of discomfort giving way to soft, pliant warmth — he could die like this.

it’s not about dominance with bob. it’s about connection. about you trusting him so much you’d let him see you like this, let him touch you here. he’d hold you close through every second, kissing your shoulders and murmuring sweet things like “so good, baby, you feel so good, thank you for lettin’ me do this.”

he probably comes way too fast the first time and apologizes for it while you stroke his hair and tell him he’s perfect.

yelena’s a menace. a calculating, mean little thing who takes so much satisfaction in breaking you down methodically. she treats it like training — she gets toys, lube, hours of online research. she makes a spreadsheet.

and she denies you. not cruelly — okay, maybe a little cruelly — but because she loves the power trip of it. knowing your clit’s throbbing and untouched, your pussy aching for attention while she’s working your ass open with steady, patient precision.

she probably makes you beg for it. makes you admit how desperate you are, how good it feels. she doesn’t let you come until you’re flushed and crying, fingers twitching against the sheets. and when you finaly do, it’s with her hand buried between your thighs, a smirk on her lips and a low “see? knew you’d like it.”

yelena leaves marks. bites on your throat, bruises on your hips. she’s rough in the best way, and when it’s over she’ll kiss the sweat off your neck and order takeout.

[httpwintersoldier]

『 freak. pt1 | b. barnes x reader 』

pairing: bucky barnes x afab!reader words: mega words summary: after suppressing his feelings and emotions for so long, Bucky found himself at a romantic standstill, unable to form a connection due to his discomfort with anything related to the matters of the heart and the mind. That is, until he met you, someone with the same problem, looking for the same solution. a slow burn between two people who didn't allow themselves to love.

fluff ; angst ; smut

James Barnes was convinced he had seen and experienced just about every single terrifying experience. Being drafted to war, captured by Nazis, experimented on, forced to kill, attacked by aliens...

And yet fear overcame him whenever the topic of dating came up.

He had tried to date, his therapist had encouraged him to - "creating connections with people", and all. But Bucky wondered if it had done any good, he wondered if it had made it worse, actually. He could handle taking care of someone else, being romantic, protecting and being chivalrous towards someone else came pretty natural to him (even after nearly a century of being single), it was the rest that he found complicated.

The man didn't mind consoling people and wiping their tears, giving them a friendly shoulder to cry on, and although the display of emotions could make him uncomfortable sometimes, he was happy to help, more than anything. It was when his partners asked him to be vulnerable that all Hell broke loose.

It's not that he didn't trust the people he dated, he didn't have any secrets - much to his distaste, his past was very public and anyone could just make themselves known of his trauma if they so pleased - but he did not want to dissect anything. Bucky did not want to think about it, much less talk about it, and he wanted to explain his feelings even less. He'd soon find out that his partners disliked that in him, they loved how caring he was, but they felt as if Bucky was only attentive as a way to make up for hi emotional unavailability, to make up for not being able to let anyone in other than at a surface level.

Multiple people had explained it to him, they told him that people felt hurt when they would expose so much of themselves and not get the same amount of trust back, and Bucky understood it (he wasn't a robot, after all, human emotions and behaviours weren't foreign to him), but the man still couldn't bring himself to open his heart up to anyone.

Whenever he did do it, on his last relationship, it wasn't enough, and it sent him spiraling.

He was sitting on the couch, arm lazily draped over the shoulders of the pretty girl he had taken on a few dates. She was beautiful, kind, genuine, mature... Everything was right with her, Bucky really wanted to make it work. The girl was telling him a story, he could no longer remember what it was about, something about feeling lonely in the world and trying to overcome it by putting herself out there.

Then came his turn to share. Ah. He recognized the look in her eyes, as if silently asking "can you relate to what I'm saying?". It would be cocky (and a lie) to say that he couldn't see himself in what she said, he had to respond, he knew he had to say something, to share.

"I was an army brat, my family moved around a bunch so I didn't have many friends growing up, I only met Steve when I was around thirteen, but up until then moving around had me feeling pretty lonely." Bucky had a small smile as he told the story, remembering his old friend, whom at the time was but a frail boy that needed much protection.

The girl to his side, however, scrunched her nose. He could tell she wasn't happy about the answer.

"Haven't you felt lonely... recently?" She asked, more specifically.

Bucky tried to fight it, but he couldn't help the way his body stiffened at the question. Of course his answer was an attempt at dodging the question, he wasn't actually sharing something vulnerable, just as she had, he was simply sharing a memory from a time when he was happy and comfortable, the girl wanted something that told her what kind of person he was in the present.

Millions of thoughts ran through his head - the cold walls of the H.Y.D.R.A dungeon where he was tortured and treated as less than, the small apartment in Bucharest where he hid while trying to figure out who he was, the time he spent in the Avengers tower, getting side eyes and being seen as some "unstable threat one wrong move away from snapping" by everyone, the flat he rented and slept alone in after Steve left. Bucky had felt lonely plenty of times - most of his life, really, but it wasn't something he was willing to explore, it was too deep, too real, and too soon.

The man smiled and chuckled dryly, trying to mask the discomfort of the situation.

"More recent? Are you calling me old?"

He tried cracking a joke to shake away the tension he had unknowingly created in the air, desperately licking his lips and brushing his hair back with one hand to distract himself (and her) from the fact that he was trying to stray away from the girl's question.

Upon hearing his comment, she straightened herself on the couch and turned her body to look at Bucky.

"Listen, James, you're a great guy, you don't find many people like you nowadays, so I tried my best and I stuck around because of that, but you've built this... wall. And it's impenetrable. No matter how much I try to get to know you under the surface level, no matter how much I share of me, I don't get the same from you. And- and this isn't an insult to you, but I need more, I can't be wondering what you're thinking and feeling all the time, and I can't be guessing what triggers you or not every day, I'm sorry."

That conversation lived in his head every day. Bucky apologized, it was all he could do, really. He gave her a reassuring hug and yet another woman walked out of his front door to never come back, leaving a sour taste on his mouth and a heavy feeling of disappointment on his chest, as if he was a freak, as if something was deeply wrong with him.

Months passed, Bucky sat with himself and his thoughts on his couch, alone, with a glass of bourbon in hand, wondering if he'd ever find a partner, if he'd ever be able to free himself from the muzzle that kept him from speaking, if he'd ever be able to tear down the wall within him that everyone criticized so much.

Bucky couldn't get drunk, one of the unfortunate side effects of the serum that had been given to him - yet another thing that helped make people vulnerable and it didn't work on him. But he was still human, and, one dark night, the amount alcohol he consumed was too much, and he got sick, so much so that the air coming in from the open windows wasn't enough. He opened his front door and dragged himself to the rooftop, thinking the cold breeze would do him some good.

There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, only bright stars and the occasional blinking lights of a plane passing overhead. Bucky preferred the natural sounds of Wakanda, or the ones from Brooklyn in the 30's, they were both much quieter, but he had learned to find peace in the busy city noises. The cold hair hit him in the face and helped the sickness substantially - he hadn't noticed how stuffy his apartment had gotten, be it from the heat, or from all of the tension and sulking he had been doing within those four walls.

"Got a lighter?"

The voice startled him - which was surprising, he was usually very aware and observant, he just didn't expect to find anyone up there, alone, at such a late hour.

He looked in the direction of the voice, finding you sitting down against a wall, with a blunt between your lips, smacking the lighter against your palm.

Bucky patted his pockets, hinting at the fact that he brought nothing with him.

"Don't smoke, sorry." He responded dryly.

You shrugged, and tried lighting your blunt again. You flicked the wheel of the lighter, the rasping sound and small sparks filling the air, but no flame.

"Can I?" Bucky offered, finally, extending his hand your way.

He disliked not being useful, so he would at least try to help whenever he could.

Your eyes flickered between the man and the lighter, before you shrugged, stood up and handed him the items.

You watched as he took it, placing the blunt between his lips. He covered the joint and lighter with the palm of his free hand, and the flicking, metallic sounds resumed. After a few tries, a small flame ignited, big enough to light the poorly-rolled blunt. Bucky breathed in the smoke as he lit it up, then breathing it out, and a small cloud separated the two of them before the man used two fingers to take the joint from his lips, handing it back to you, as well as the lighter.

"Thanks," you said, taken aback by his skill "I thought you said you didn't smoke."

You took a hit and blew out the smoke, then turning your head to look at him.

"For someone who doesn't do this, you sure know your way around it." You joked.

The man curved the corner of his lips in a half smile and chuckled.

"When you're a hundred years old, there isn't much you haven't tried." Bucky responded.

He didn't know if you knew who he was, but he suspected as much - he'd heard the whispers in the hallways and around the corners when he moved in, and they hadn't stopped, so the man guessed you had heard them too.

You blinked a few times and tapped the side of the joint with your index finger.

"Are you actually a hundred?"

His half smile expanded into a full smile.

"Well, I fought in the second World War, so I gotta be over a hundred."

"Damn..." You covered your mouth with your hand quickly once you realized what you had said, but Bucky had already burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... you know. It's just that the people around here say a lot of stuff and it's kind of hard to distinguish truth from farse."

Bucky's smile faltered a little, not because he was sad, but because for the first time, he met someone who questioned what they heard, someone who didn't instantly believe every horror story and every rumor about him.

"Well, what did you hear?" The man asked.

You shrugged, you didn't really want to throw all of the awful things you'd heard to his face, especially because you questioned the veracity of most of them.

"I heard you're a ladies man."

Bucky threw his head back with laughter, something he hadn't done in a long time. He expected it to be something dark, something vile and horrendous, like the rumor of his mind still being controlled by H.Y.D.R.A, but your sincere, genuine tone about something so silly... it was refreshing, and it caught him off guard (in a good way).

"Ms. Dolores from down the hall sees everything, you know? And she tells everyone's business to everyone."

The male brushed his hair back with one hand, and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I used to be." He admitted, flatly, memories of his young self back in Brooklyn suddenly flooding his memory.

"Well, if a stud like you is having a hard time, then it's curtains for the rest of us, common folk." You joked, blowing yet another cloud of smoke in front of you.

The soldier laughed again, and a small, involuntary blush spread on his cheeks.

"Well, unfortunately it's not all about looks." Bucky commented, and you nodded, taking a long drag from the joint.

You read between the lines of what he was saying, the underlying sad tone that told you he had a hard time finding a connection with someone. You'd seen him before, feeding the cats in the alley next to your building, leaving medicine and food by the doorstep of the elderly neighbours when they were sick, recycling... You knew he wasn't a bad person, so you assumed his lack of connections stemmed from his history.

"The words get stuck in your throat, and they don't wanna come out. You try to speak, but it feels heavy in your chest. Right?" You said.

You'd been there before, you had a relationship several years prior, one where you shared everything, you poured your heart out to that person and they weaponized it against you at the very end. They threw it back in your face and used your deepest, darkest fears as flaws, as a reason not to date you, as a reason to call you a freak.

It took a long time before you were able to trust anyone again, several therapy sessions before you could actually speak to the therapist about the very reason why you sat in her office. It was her that prescribed the weed, at first, for the anxiety. It was meant to be for that, but it had been two years and you had gotten accustomed to using weed as a way to escape from feeling... well, anything. But the pretty boy next door didn't need to know that.

You were able to trust your friends again, to tell them your thoughts and emotions, but after that you remained single, never able to confide in someone with your heart.

Bucky licked his lips and chuckled - a humourless chuckle, he was in disbelief to be understood, for the first time.

"Right."

You were stuck on his mind, after that night, every single aspect of you, but mostly, how he felt seen by you. He wouldn't admit it though, and he'd never knock on your door and ask to hang out because he was afraid that something that went so well organically would be awkward if forced.

He didn't believe in soulmates, much less in the whole "meant to be" thing, but truth was, he felt attracted to you, in a way that transcended the usual physical attraction that drew him to most women.

Bucky wanted to see you, he wanted to talk to you and go deeper into your mind, to know how much you could relate to him - but how? Would it be too on the nose if he went up to the roof again?

He had no way of knowing that you were already up there waiting for him - it was unconscious, you used to hang out and smoke there because your landlord didn't allow smoking in the apartment (and the meticulous little shit always seemed to know when you did), but you found yourself looking at the heavy metal door, waiting for a certain big, blue-eyed man to come through it.

But Bucky didn't come, too scared to just follow his heart - after H.Y.D.R.A, he had taken a logical, practical approach to life, there had to be a proper reason for every of his actions, and he didn't accept "because I want to see them" as reason enough to go up those stairs and look for you.

A week passed and you didn't see him again. You also didn't go looking for him, you suspected he knew where to find you, and if Bucky didn't come, it was because he hadn't enjoyed your company all that much.

Fate (or convenience) seemed to be determined on bringing you together, however.

Your sink was clogged, you had watched a Youtube video on how to fix it and then stood in front of it, wondering if you wanted to take the chance to save money and do it yourself (and then possibly spend hundreds to have a handyman fix your mess), or if you should just skip straight to the handyman part.

You sighed, eventually deciding on saving yourself the time and the trouble.

"Hi, Ms. Dolores! Do you happen to have the number of any affordable handymen? My kitchen sink is clogged and I don't want to risk calling some random guy that's going to overcharge me." You asked your elderly neighbour, hoping she'd have some advice.

"Hello, dear! I could give you the number of my plumber, but the young man at the end of the hallway, the soldier boy, he fixed my plumbing issues last time I had them, why don't you give him a try, hm? I bet he wouldn't say no to a pretty face like yours!" The woman said with a smile, reaching up to pinch your bashful cheek.

"Thank you, Ms. Dolores." You said quietly, and bid goodbye.

You didn't move, however, standing in front of the woman's closed door as you looked at the outside of Bucky's apartment. Couldn't hurt to try, it's not like you were going over there to ask to be friends, you were simply asking for a favour - well, another one, given he'd been kind enough to light your blunt for you. You were walking over there for a logical reason, there were no feelings behind it, or so you told yourself.

Before you knew it, your body had already decided for you, and you knocked on his door, softly but loud enough for anyone inside to hear.

Bucky didn't get many visitors, so he was surprised to hear the knock. He was even more surprised to find you on the other side of the door.

The man had never taken a good look at you, he had never paid attention, not even that day on the roof, since you were wearing a big, large sweater with your hood up to protect yourself from the cold, but now that you stood in front of him he couldn't help but to note every feature of your face that had gone unnoticed by him - every single one of your beautiful traits.

"Hey!... You?" He realized suddenly he hadn't asked for your name, and embarrassment struck him.

"Y/N." You introduced, shyly realizing that you had a conversation with the man without ever saying your name.

"Right, Y/N, sorry about that." Bucky laughed awkwardly "What can I do for you? Got another blunt that needs lighting?"

The man chuckled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his lips formed the most beautiful, charming smile. You were caught in a trance for a second, but masked it by awkwardly laughing at his joke.

"Well, actually, I think a pipe is clogged in my kitchen and Ms. Dolores very charitably recommended your services, but if you're busy I can just call someone else!" You explained.

"On a Sunday? No one's picking up that phone call, sweetheart. Let me just get my tools and I'll be right there, okay?"

The nickname came out naturally, and you could tell it was a pet name he used on the regular, that it probably didn't carry any real weight, but it still made your heart skip a beat.

"Right... The days of the week get jumbled in my mind sometimes." You laughed awkwardly "I'm two doors down, just knock whenever you arrive! Oh, and thank you!"

If you weren't already attracted to Bucky, seeing him all sweaty in a tight, white tank top would've done it for you.

"I didn't know you were a repairman, James." You said, leaning against your kitchen table.

The man got startled by the name, and banged his head against the pipes as he came out from under the sink to look at you.

"Ow! James?" He asked, softly rubbing the sore spot on his temple.

"Yeah, it's your name, right?"

A million scenarios ran through your head, what if you had misheard his name? What if you read his name wrong at the museum and James was someone else? Oh God, you had messed up.

The man just laughed and licked his lips.

"Yeah, it's my first name, but no one's used it in... well, ever, really. It's always been Bucky, or Sergeant Barnes." He explained, cleaning his hands on an old rag he had brought along as he reached for a different tool in his toolbox.

"Bucky? How the fuck do you get 'Bucky' from the name James?" You asked, with furrowed brows and a confused voice.

"You don't," he said and chuckled lightly "it comes from my middle name, Buchanan."

You opened your mouth and a small "oh" came from it, as he explained the nickname.

"But about what you said, I work in a garage. Fixing bikes and cars mostly, but sometimes people bring old junk around for me to fix, dishwashers and all, once you get the hang of it, everything feels like pretty much the same."

He picked up a wrench, and you couldn't peel your eyes away from the way his muscles flexed as he tightened the loose parts that connected the pipes. You swallowed and blinked rapidly, forcing your gaze away from him before it became awkward.

"Bikes, hm? You ride?"

"I do." Bucky smiled softly "But bikes and cars don't talk, makes it easier to work. I tried bartending before, but there was too much socializing."

That was somewhat... calming. Maybe Bucky didn't strike a conversation with you again because he wasn't very social, or because he didn't feel very comfortable around people - maybe you weren't the problem.

You were usually good at dissecting people from a distance, but you could never tell when it came to people's attitude towards you... you simply couldn't put your finger on it. You always blamed yourself, saw yourself as the problem, so it was easier to walk away and not even try, rather than getting hurt once again.

"Don't costumers talk?" You asked, trying to get the conversation going.

He chuckled.

"We got someone for that. Some young guy looking for a job came in, talked his ass off, monologued for about five minutes about giving him an opportunity. Bob's a good kid but he blabbers a lot - which is good for costumer service, something I'd rather pay someone to do."

You nodded along to what he said - he definitely wasn't a people person then, which was odd, he seemed great at conversation...

"I swear I'm not rude, I'm just no good at small talk." Bucky explained, as he realized how antisocial he must've sounded.

He didn't want you thinking he was some weirdo who couldn't talk to people (or didn't want to), Bucky just wasn't very good at faking interest or kindness. He had once been good at that, and you could tell that he was a charming man from the way he spoke to you, but life hadn't been kind to him and the young, flirty kid from Brooklyn that he had once been was locked away behind the big heavy walls he had unknowingly built.

"How much do I owe you?" You asked, as soon as he began putting away his tools.

Bucky looked up at you with his pretty blue eyes, a hint of mischief that told you there was no way he would let you pay, and then looked back at his toolbox as he shut it.

"Don't worry about it." The man said, confirming your suspicions.

He loved to help, Bucky loved to feel useful, as a way of compensating for not being good with words, for not being very warm and inviting when it came to his looks.

"What? No way, Bucky-" You began complaining, but he cut you off almost instantly.

"I mean it, it was no problem, took me like, twenty minutes."

He was too kind, as you had guessed, from all of the things you had seen him do. But that felt like taking advantage of his kindness, you felt like you owed him, and you didn't like owing anyone.

"At least let me offer you a drink then. Wine?"

Bucky stood up, towering over you, and smiled. He knew you wouldn't back down (thankfully), and that was just the chance he needed (and wanted) to talk to you, something he had been wanting to do ever since you exchanged your first couple of words.

"How about I wash up first, and we can have that drink then?"

You wouldn't have minded sweaty Bucky next to you, his glistening, golden skin, and his sweaty strands of hair that he constantly brushed back in a way that shouldn't be sensual - but it was.

"I'll be waiting for you on the roof."

You wondered if he had worn those grey sweatpants just for you, if he knew of your adoration for those pants. When he waltzed outside, in his unholy form, your eyes couldn't stop themselves from wandering.

The white t-shirt he wore was tight on his chest and shoulders, not leaving much to the imagination, and his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips - whenever he raised his hand to brush his hair back you could see a glimpse of his skin, a tad of his hip bones peeking out in the most tempting way.

You nervously picked up the two glasses you had bought and extended him one, as the male took a seat beside you, back against the brick wall just like you.

"I hope you enjoy this eight dollar wine that I carefully picked out from the clearance aisle."

Bucky flashed a smile that you caught from the corner of your eye as you focused on pouring him drink.

When both of your glasses had a decent amount of wine, you clinked them together and said "cheers" in unison. Both of you took a sip, and although Bucky tried to mask the disgust, you could see his brows twitch slightly as soon as he took a sip.

The sour, unpleasant taste danced on your tongue and you winced, almost as if it pained you to savour something like that. You smacked your tongue against the roof of your mouth a couple of times, trying to get rid of the nasty aftertaste, and set the glass down in front of you.

"That's eight dollars alright... Sorry." You apologised.

"No, no, it's... good?" Bucky said, and you would've thought someone so old would've learned to lie at some point.

You cocked your head to the side and raised a brow at him, clearly not believing those words (especially in the tone they were delivered in).

"Okay, fine, it sucks." He admitted, setting the glass down by his side as well.

"I guess we won't be getting drunk tonight." You sighed, and leaned your head back against the brick wall.

"Ah, well, I can't get drunk anyways." Bucky blurted out.

He didn't mean to admit that, he didn't mean to say something that would lead to a part of his life that he did not want to reveal, but in an attempt to make you feel better about the poor choice in wine, it just came out, naturally (which was very uncharacteristic of him).

"Are you on antibiotics or something?"

Bucky chuckled at the sweet innocence of your question, finding it amusing how you seemed to overlook the fact that he was a super soldier - he wondered if you did it on purpose, in attempt to make him feel normal, or if it was genuine forgetfulness. Whatever it was, he appreciated it.

"Yeah, an antibiotic called super soldier serum." The male joked, catching you off guard.

"So you can't get drunk? Like, ever? Is that why you rejected the blunt the other day? You can't get high?"

"Touché, sweetheart. Everything is enhanced, including our metabolism. Can't get drunk, can't get high."

Bucky expected more questions, it always happened. He didn't blame people for being curious about his person, it wasn't like he was some average Joe after all, but it bothered him - it felt like they were dissecting him. He felt exposed and vulnerable, which made him uncomfortable.

What he didn't expect, however, was the question that followed.

"Is it harder for you to cum?"

His head snapped to look at you, with wide eyes, raised eyebrows and a shocked expression that Bucky couldn't control. To his surprise, you were looking at him with the exact same amount of shock and surprise, as if what you had just said was a rogue thought that had escaped past your lips.

"I'm sorry- I'm- I don't know what I was thinking, that was so inappropriate-"

Before you could apologize once more, Bucky threw his head back in boisterous laughter, his hand was over his chest and small tears formed on the corner of his eyes. The sound was simply marvelous, and you couldn't help but join in with shy giggles.

The male took a deep breath and turned to look at you, head still rested against the cold wall behind you.

"I haven't laughed like that in years, Y/N, thank you."

"So... you're not offended that I asked that?"

He shook his head no, a devious smile playing on his lips.

"And the answer is no, but I do have more stamina." He winked as he finished the sentence.

You didn't expect an actual response to the question, let alone one so raunchy and flirty, one that made your thighs press together as you imagined what promise hid behind those words.

From that night on, it was pretty clear to the both of you that you enjoyed each other's company - you just didn't know to what extent.

You both dipped your toes in the pool further and further each day - Bucky would place his hand on your lower back to guide you, you'd brush your thigh against his when sitting down, his touch would linger on you longer than necessary...

The visits to the roof became more frequent, it somehow seemed more intimate than inviting each other over for a drink inside, as if that was your secret spot, hidden away from everyone, where you could look at the stars and take in the breeze of the night and the cold air.

"Hey."

You hugged you legs against your chest and rested your chin on your knees as you waited for Bucky and, when you heard his voice, it was almost like a trigger to your happiness. You couldn't help the smile from spreading on your face, and the warm feeling on your chest, or the way your heart beat faster. You ignored it all.

"Hey there!"

Bucky sat next to you and extended a glass, before waving a bottle of Cutty Sark in the air playfully.

"I don't trust it, Sarge. What if you replaced what's inside to get back at me for that wine?" You joked, as you extended your glass for him to pour the scotch in.

The male's face contorted in disgust upon remembering the bitter taste from some nights ago.

"No one deserves anything like that, dollface."

You nudged him softly with your elbow, as you pretended to be insulted by the dig he took at your cheap wine, and you hoped he couldn't see the small smile that crept up on your face upon hearing the pet name.

"So... my friend set me up on a blind date the other day..." You said, breaking the comfortable silence that the two of you would often sit in.

You didn't know what had pushed you to say that, but you found yourself wondering if you'd be able to maintain the friendship with Bucky if you were to suddenly get a boyfriend. You weren't sure if it could be called a friendship yet, it had only been a couple of weeks since the two of you had spoken for the first time, but there was an underlying layer of understanding between the two of you, something that made whatever the two of you had transcend past "just acquaintances".

"Yeah? How'd it go?" The male asked, out of instinct.

"Well," you began, looking down at your glass as you swirled the drink within it "it's Saturday night and I'm sitting on a rooftop drinking with you instead of hanging out with him, so I'll let you guess."

Bucky chuckled as he took a swing of the scotch. He felt sorry, but at the same time relieved that your date hadn't gone anywhere.

"You know, I don't know what's worse, getting through the small talk in the beginning, or feeling forced to share deep parts of your life just on the off chance that you might click." You admitted, thinking back to your date.

Bucky sighed and nodded in agreement - his desperation to prove himself worthy of love had lead him to a fruitless and forceful pursuit of connection. Your refusal to fully trust anyone with yourself, with your heart and your vulnerabilities, had lead you to the same dead end, and so the two of you found yourselves lonely and alone, together.

There was suddenly a shift in the mood, it became heavy and stuffy, as if your bad date confession had taken the two of you to consider your love life, and where it had gone wrong.

But even then, even when the you both knew you could relate to each other's emptiness and loneliness, you refused to share any feelings.

"How about we finish this drink and I take you on a ride down to my shop?" Bucky suggested, unsettled by the atmosphere that had ensued, and unsure of how else to break it.

"Your shop? Look at Mr. Successful over here." You mocked.

Bucky licked his lips and rolled his eyes in the most enticing way you had ever seen.

"Do you want to or not, sweetheart?"

There he was again with the pet names. If only he knew how those made your stomach flip and turn...

You downed the remaining drink in your cup and Bucky widened his eyes at you.

"Woah there cowgirl, easy on the drinks!" He joked, as he stood up and extended his hand for you to take.

You stood up, with his help, and pushed the empty glass against his chest.

"I'll be fine!" You said (or hoped).

You could feel Bucky's muscles flex under your touch as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

"You good back there?" He asked, looking over his shoulder.

You nodded, and a couple seconds after you heard the roaring from the motorcycle's engine. Your bodies were glued together, your chest pressed against his toned back, arms circled around his waist and thighs squeezing his legs from the nerves and excitement.

Bucky found freedom in riding his bike, the wind on his face, cutting through the elements with whatever speed he pleased, on his way going nowhere and everywhere. That night he had to go slower, he had to control his movements a lot more because you were in the back and he didn't want to scare (or hurt) you, but he didn't miss the adrenaline, he found comfort in your presence.

He couldn't help but to smile at the sound of small giggles coming from you. The male would sometimes speed up slightly or do a curve a little too recklessly because he found your reactions simply adorable.

The motorcycle soon came to a halt, in front a somewhat large brick building with two big garage doors and a regular front door in between.

You climbed down from the bike, fixing your hair as you removed the helmet Bucky had given you. You looked up and saw the sign with the name of the establishment.

"The Garage..." You read "Creative!"

Bucky, whom was already heading towards the door of the shop, looked over his shoulder.

"Funny. I'm not good with names, and I thought it should be straightforward, you know? It's a garage, I fix automobiles, that's enough!" He explained, as he reached for his back pocket to grab the keys to the entrance.

He slid the metal into the lock and turned it a couple of times. Bucky gripped the handle of the door and pushed it open, then stepping aside and giving you space to walk inside before him. You didn't expect someone who was so socially awkward to be so polite and gentleman-like. You had assumed, to a certain point, that he had lost some manners along the way, that he'd forgotten certain social cues, but you were proven very wrong.

"This is where I work, used to be a smaller place close to home but more people started bringing in stuff for me to fix, so I had to expand the place. And the team too."

Bucky leaned against one of the cars and stared as you walked through the shop and curiously looked around.

"Do you need to use a jack or can you just lift the car with that shiny arm of yours?" You asked, pointing at his vibranium arm.

The male found it amusing how you always had the strangest questions about his abilities - they were always things no one had ever thought to ask, things that didn't really matter, and he appreciated that.

"I can lift them up, but I still need to use the jack while I'm working." Bucky explained.

"Show me!"

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you and licked his lips to mask an amused smile.

"You want me to lift a car, right now?" He questioned.

You walked over to him and knocked on his vibranium arm, almost expecting it to make the sound of an empty trashcan when knocked over.

"It's not like it's gonna hurt your arm." You joked with a giggle.

"I guess you're right." Bucky agreed, and pushed himself off the car.

The man walked around the vehicle and stood behind it. His enhanced arm reached underneath the machine and pulled it up, successfully lifting up the back of the car, as if it was nothing, as if he was lifting up a pen from a desk.

Your mouth was agape as you stared in awe. You couldn't see his bicep flex as the arm was machine-made, but something about the whirring sound and the vibranium twisting and turning made you feel things in the pit of your stomach - not quite the butterflies a teenage girl would feel when walking by her crush, definitely not that. Bucky's constant display of strength and virility ignited something much more animalistic inside of you.

Your gaze followed his movements as Bucky slowly placed the car down, not wanting to be too rough and risk messing up the client's car.

Before you could process it, your feet walked over to him on their own. Your eyes were glued to his arm, and you mindlessly traced it with your index finger. Bucky watched you carefully, entertained by the sight, excitedly waiting for you next move - he could never tell what you were thinking, what you'd do next, which made being in your company that much more fun.

You looked up at him, there wasn't much of a distance between your faces, you could smell his cologne and his natural musk - a combination you found yourself hypnotized by.

"I wonder what else those hands can do..." You blurted out.

Your face felt hot, you slowly looked away, too shy to meet his gaze after your dirty comment, but you didn't move, you didn't dare step back and neither did he.

Suddenly, Bucky's hand grabbed your chin and made you look at him - the grip wasn't rough, it was tender, but firm, as if saying "you can leave, but I really don't want you to".

"Is this the scotch talking?" The male asked in a low, husky voice, as he turned his head to the side slightly.

His eyes shifted between your eyes and lips, his intentions were clear, but Bucky didn't intend to hide them.

"Sure, let's say that." You responded, hinting at the fact that it most definitely wasn't the alcohol, but something else that had been building up within you.

The two of you knew the implications in what you were about to engage, you knew that one kiss would change everything, it would open the doors to something. You weren't quite sure what, but you wondered if there could be a wall between your emotional connection and your sexual relationship (if that were to happen), if the two things could co-exist without getting mixed and intertwined.

Your faces inched closer, moving out of their own volition, ignoring whatever thoughts crossed their minds.

At first it was just a peck. Your lips touched momentarily, in a kiss that could be seen almost as negligible. It was an experiment, a trial to make sure that you two definitely wanted to do that, that it wasn't just from the proximity, from the hormones, from the moon shining down on you from the big window to your left, or from the dim lighting of the room.

The moment your lips met, it felt like throwing gasoline on a flame - the fire ignited even more, it was now wild and out of control.

It escalated quickly and violently. Bucky's body pushed you against the hood of the car, until you were leaning against it. He forced your legs open with his knee so he could stand between them, his hands grabbed your ass and brought your body against his so he could feel your cunt pressed against his hardening cock.

Your hands were entangled in his hair, making a mess of it as he made a mess of you.

The small groans he let slip every so often sounded like Heaven, they were like nothing you had ever heard before, and you were sure you could get yourself off to that alone.

You pulled away for a second, and your fiery, hungry gazes were locked on each other - begging for more, needing more. Bucky wanted to take you back home and fuck you properly, but he didn't know if he could wait, the man would happily take you on the hood of the car as well, and then take you back home for a second round.

From the corner of your eye, however, you could see something... no, not something, but someone.

"Oh my God who is that?!" You shrieked, as your eyes widened in horror.

Bucky turned around quickly, and looked in the direction of your gaze, to find a man, on the corner of the room, standing awkwardly and waving stiffly with a goofy smile on his face.

"Bob? Bob, what are you doing there- what are you doing here? The shop has been closed for hours."

"John left and I guess he forgot I was in here as well, he locked me in." Bob said, and he sounded just as uncomfortable as you felt.

"And you didn't think to call anyone?" Bucky asked, annoying and irritated at the situation that had ensued.

"Oh, none of you gave me your number."

Bucky held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and placed the other hand on his hip as he sighed - public displays of affection were his worst nightmare, let alone in front of co-workers. He was mortified, trying to stand in a way that would make his boner less obvious to his co-worker - Bob had already heard too much, he didn't need to see it too.

"Door's open, Bob. You could've just left." Bucky said, looking down at the ground still.

"Yeah but then you were lifting the car and that was super cool so I wanted to watch. But then-"

"I know what happened after, Bob. You don't need to tell us just- please go." The male cut off his co-worker as he finally looked up, unable to look Bob in the eye.

"See you tomorrow, Boss!"

You were left in awe as Bob's steps echoed in the building and then faded into obscurity after the door shut behind him. You didn't know what to say, or think. You weren't even sure of how to feel, but one look at Bucky told you he was not happy.

Not at all, he was stiff as a board, his eyebrows were furrowed and he had that terrifying, locked expression that he usually walked around with. He sighed, finally, ran his fingers through his hair and extended you one hand.

"Come on, let's get you home."

"minors do not interact" banner credit: @cafekitsune

[gotohelly]

“i’m nervous.”

“me too.”

“you too.”

“it’s okay.”

2x06 - Attila

[thewardenisonthecase]

I think the thing with anneliese and alistair's relationship is that, while she does want him to you know, speak out for himself and take the reins over his own life (and i mean, she does find alistair hottest when he takes charge over stuff) she's also like...I can be strong for the two of us if you need to, and I'll speak for you when your voice breaks

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

My Arcane hot take: Ekko needs more hugs, especially Vi hugs

[anneapocalypse]

...Would you describe it to me, Urianger? Paint for me a picture with your words. A sea of shimmering stars. Diamonds strewn across a raven gown, boundless and beautiful. 'Tis an exquisite sight not unlike that of the Source. Calm and gentle... and forgiving...

[ninjagirlstar5]

Star, stop changing Tamami's design challenge (impossible).

No, for real, I think this is the fifth redesign I've done of her character. I don't know why but the past designs I've made for her just weren't satisfying to me for some reason. Some of the designs I decided were just bad or didn't suit her while the others were similar but I just didn't like how it looked (tank top, large sweater, scarf, the rainbow bracelet and a long skirt). But I...think I've finally landed on a design that I liked the most out of all the ones I've made so far. (Please let it be the last. Please, my brain and heart. I would like to settle on a design and move on!)

ANYWAYS, I used Teruya's DRA sprite as a base for Tamami since, well, she is his mom and she's about as short as DRA!Teruya (or maybe shorter, I don't know, the wiki gave me two heights for his DRA self. I decided she's about 4'8'' to 5''). So it made sense to use this sprite for her, even when I made slight adjustments to her eyes and nose by making the eyes a little wider and bigger and the nose a bit more pronounced as DRA!Teruya's nose is very small. Out of three of the five designs I've made, I kept this short hairstyle of hers with a large ahoge as I loved this style the most and didn't want to change it. I based her bangs off of SDRA2!Teruya's length and style and the back of her hair like DRA!Teruya's, but I changed the way the strands looked so that it'd look more like her own hairstyle but you can still see the resemblance between the two of them. The ahoge, though, is very much real, unlike Kojiro's and Teruya's (they canonically style their hair like that on purpose), and she cannot fix it no matter how hard she tries. So she just gave up and let it be. Tamami got stuck with the protagonist trait, even though she died before the events of Danganronpa, lol. I've never been a fan of fictional kids looking like carbon copies of their parents. Like, you have the meta-power to design these kids anyway you like and you just make them look exactly like one of their parents? Unless their look-alike appearance is plot relevant, it's just weird for them to look so much like one parent that they can easily be mistaken as siblings and has zero resemblance to the other. And that's saying a lot coming from me who looks a lot more like my Irish dad from skin tone alone, but even then people can tell that I'm at least Asian because of my facial structure and even asked as such, tying my appearance to my Filipino mom. I don't know, I just like seeing a mix of traits for the kids to have inherited from their parents, you know? So, since Kojiro already has a design with green hair and green eyes, I decided to have Tamami have a different hair color, gray and green, but she also has green eyes, just a different shade. Teruya inherited his mother's eyes while getting his father's hair. Since I headcanon Teruya to have freckles, Tamami has freckles as well and as I mentioned before in this post, I adjusted her skin tone to be more obviously tanned instead of dusty from my older drawings of her. And then there's the outfit, which is a dark gray tank top, a long denim(?) skirt, dark reddish-brown boots, a blue handkerchief scarf to match with Kojiro, and a big fluffy yellow sweater with a checkerboard pattern that is tucked into her skirt, and long puffy sleeves that hangs off of her shoulders. The rainbow stripes on her skirt and the rainbow bracelet ties her design to Teruya's as he wears a rainbow as well, and I thought it'd be a neat idea for them to have a similar love for rainbows even though they've never met (cause she died via childbirth). The thought of Teruya still inheriting some of his mom's mannerisms and traits even though they never officially met scratches my brain in a good, angsty way. I wonder what Kojiro thinks whenever he recognizes parts of Tamami in Teruya...And that's it for Tamami's design! Hopefully it'll stay this way.

Tiny characters that can beat the shit out of an enemy that's much taller than them will always be peak character design, you can't change my mind on that.

[litchi-tea]

you ship patsop can I have your hc of them?

I don't have a lot of hcs for them cause I usually just go off of vibes and interactions I've had with other Embalmers when I play Enchan, which is usually how most of my ships form tbh. But these are the few I do have atm.

Aesop's love language with her is very much acts of service. He'd definitely be the type to prefer actions over words, plus I feel like Patricia would appreciate it more than compliments or since I hc her to be a bit more jaded than him because she's older

Patricia's on the other hand would probably be words of affirmation or quality time. She might be jaded, but I feel like Aesop would still naive in some ways and would definitely value being told how much she appreciates him and cares for him and Patricia would easily pick up on that.

I can see them both doing gift giving, Patricia giving him bouquets of roses and making woodcarvings for him and Aesop planting her a garden of herbs and either buying gold jewelry or trying to make it for her himself.

I feel like Aesop would be the type that would go from being rarely touchy at the start of their relationship, to doing things like hugging Patty from behind when it's her turn to cook or pulling her onto his lap to cuddle when they watch movies. The only time he's experienced positive physical touch was before his mother died when he was a child, so once he becomes comfortable with it I can see him being very direct about wanting physical affection.

Patricia enjoys physical affection a lot, more of her preferring physical displays of love over vocalizing it. Especially cuddling and being held. So Aesop's gradual shift from occasionally holding her hand and caressing her face with his finger to embracing her and practically drowning her in kisses was very well received.

Patricia prefers to be the little spoon, which works out perfectly because Aesop loves holding her in his arms.

They take turns doing domestic chores and cooking, but Patricia likes to surprise Aesop with new savory dishes he's never tried before while Aesop will bake her favorite desserts.

[wicked-science-source]

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Can we just acknowledge that Lottie is the only person we ever see Nat accept comfort from? Throughout the series, in both timelines, Nat suffers alone and in silence. Travis reaches out to touch her after both Javi and Coach Ben’s deaths, but she walks past him in both instances. When she finds Travis’ body, Misty attempts to comfort her but Nat pushes her away. Whenever Nat breaks down, she turns inward, shutting others out instead of seeking connection. Nowhere is this more evident than in the final moments of 3x09, when she begins to sob and everyone around her vanishes, leaving her utterly alone. It’s a visual metaphor for the profound isolation that defines how Nat experiences pain.

Given the nature of Nat’s home environment, I don’t think she ever learned how to accept tenderness and physical intimacy beyond sex. It’s foreign to her. And, on a deeper level, I think she doesn’t believe she deserves this kind of intimacy and unconditional care.

But, in this moment with Lottie, she finally allows herself to be held. For what might be the first time in her life, she feels safe enough to surrender, to lean into someone else’s care without flinching. She even feels safe enough to regress to a younger version of herself, a form of healing her inner child as she lays her head on Lottie’s lap. We see Nat engage in simple hello or goodbye hugs (or moments of sexual intimacy) with other characters, but Lottie is truly the only character Nat physically embraces in this unguarded, emotionally vulnerable way.

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (13)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 5k wc. please note that the last few sy chapters will be shorter than usual. but on another note, thank you for the kind comforting words on my last post. i’m very grateful for all of you.

series masterlist -> episode fourteen

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice breaking as you watched the faint tears that slipped from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.” 

He should’ve known why. He should’ve seen it coming—should’ve expected the next words that would come out of your mouth after announcing your pregnancy. 

Yet the admission, as firm as it sounded, still tore at your chest. And the silence that followed felt deafening. His gaze flickered to your stomach, then back to your face, searching for something—understanding, hope, or maybe a way to convince you otherwise. He also seemed to be struggling with the intense contradiction of his emotions, whether to celebrate your pregnancy or whether to be horrified by it. 

That was why Satoru took a shaky breath as he reached out a hand. “Y/N,” he began, stepping closer to you, “Don’t say that. We… We can figure this out. Together. Please.” 

Your whole body trembled at the irony of ending your own life soon as you announced the beginning of another. But at the moment, it felt right. That jumping into the vast space beyond you was the best choice—for him, for Sachiro, for the baby, and for yourself. 

But seeing the father of your children at the verge of breaking down was shaking your resolve. All the guilt, the shame. You felt it all at once. 

Satoru’s hands tightened around yours the moment he was able to reach you. And before you knew it, you were being pulled down, falling straight into him as he caught you perfectly in his arms. Like you were always meant to be there. “Y/N, please…” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks, ocean-blue eyes swimming with desperation. “I got you. Don’t do this. Don’t give up on this baby. Don’t give up on us.”

“I can’t, Satoru,” you choked out, shaking your head. “I can’t bring a child into this mess. What kind of life could I possibly give them? What kind of life could we give them? I don’t even deserve to live.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N. Having you here with me right now is already the greatest blessing in my life,” he said quickly, embracing you even tighter as if afraid you’d slip further away. “I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll… I’ll be a good father. I know I’ve made mistakes, Y/N. I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But this—this is something I can do right. Let me prove it to you.”

You turned your face away, sobbing quietly. No, Satoru. It’s too late. You had heard of these same promises before, and only a fool would let herself believe it twice. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Please, just look at me. I love you. I love this baby. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I don’t care how hard it gets—I’ll be here. I’ll stay. I’ll be the man you need me to be. And the man that I should’ve always been.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, never once allowing you to breathe or call for his name. You were stuck underwater, fighting the strong current of emotions. Time and time again, and only Satoru Gojou was able to make you feel like this. 

“I swear on everything, Y/N,” he whispered, “I’ll be better. I’ll fight for you, Sachi, and this baby every single day. Just… don’t make this decision now. Not like this.”

The vulnerability in his eyes and the sheer rawness of his plea made your heart ache. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you saw the Satoru you had once loved—the man who would have moved mountains for the woman he had vowed to cherish. The man who pulled everything he can just to bring happiness to the woman he adored. 

Your chest tightened as the weight of your decision pressed down on you, and a shiver ran through your body as if you could feel your baby’s heartbeat. “Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling with the fragile thread of your emotions. “I’m…”

Before you could finish, the flood of guilt, sorrow, and exhaustion eventually overtook you. And his glistening blue eyes were the last thing you saw before the world blurred and you surrendered to the darkness.

— —

Satoru stood just outside the hospital room, leaning against the cold, white wall with his face buried in his hands. His heart was pounding and his thoughts were nothing but a chaotic mess. He had almost lost you—again. This time, in a way he hadn’t even anticipated.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and when he looked up, it was your older sister, Gen, who was walking toward him, her face a mix of concern and restrained anger. She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms and clearly displeased with his presence. 

“She’s resting,” Gen informed him, her voice steady but sharp. “The doctor says she needs time. Physically, she’ll be fine, but mentally? I don’t know.”

Satoru nodded, his throat tightening. “I—I’m sorry, Gen. For everything.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, unable to meet her piercing gaze. “I know I’ve been the worst. Back then, now… I never meant to hurt her.”

“I don’t even know what to say to you,” she replied in a haste and brutally honest manner. “First, my nephew, and now, my sister? Both of them were hospitalized because of you. All you do is bring in a series of bad luck to our family. Have some shame.” 

He knew she was right, and he was ashamed. But despite the hurtful truth, he accepted it all. He was a martyr ready to take all the pain away, if it meant taking it from you and your children. “I know I messed up, Gen. And I don’t deserve another chance. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love her. That I will love her until the day I die.” His eyes pooled with genuine tears. “I just want to be here for her. She’s my life.”

Gen sighed, her arms falling to her sides. “Satoru, you say you love her. You say you care about her. But look where we are. She’s always been the one paying the price for your mistakes. Always getting the short end of the stick.” Her voice hardened, and her eyes narrowed. “And now? There’s a rumor about her because of you. Do you even know what that’s doing to her?”

He clenched his fists, his head hanging low. “I know. I saw it. I—I’m already drafting a statement. It’ll be released soon. I’ll clear her name, Gen. I’ll take full responsibility. I won’t let anyone drag her through the mud because of me.”

Gen studied him carefully, her expression softening slightly, though her voice remained firm. “Words are one thing, Satoru. Actions are another. She’s given up so much for you. Do you even realize how much of herself she’s lost?”

“I do,” he said, his shaken voice barely audible. “I see it every time I look at her. I see the woman I fell in love with slipping away, and it’s my fault. But I swear to you, Gen, I’ll fix this. I’ll do everything I can to keep her, to keep our family together. I’ll be the man she deserves, the father our kids deserve.”

Gen’s lips pressed into a thin line as she looked away, her gaze distant. “Love isn’t just words, Satoru. It’s not just showing up when things get hard. It’s being there even when things are mundane, even when she doesn’t need saving. It’s about choosing her, every single day. And you haven’t done that.”

Her words cut deep, but he took them all, letting them sink into his bones. He had been selfish, careless with the one person who mattered the most. And now, he was paying the price.

“But you’re still here.” Gen’s voice eventually softened, as if this situation couldn’t be saved anymore. “And she’s still here. I don’t know why, after everything, my sister still loves you… but she does. I wouldn’t want you for her, frankly. I’d rather she’d be single her entire life than be stuck with you. But I know her stubborn heart all too well. And if you really mean what you say, if you’re truly ready to step up and be the man she deserves, then prove it. You’d better mean that, Satoru. Because if you break her again… I don’t think there’ll be any pieces left to put back together.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the muffled hum of the hospital. And in sincerity, Satoru nodded, tears welling in his eyes. This wasn’t exactly Gen forgiving him, this was her choosing what makes her sister happy. “I love her, Gen. I’ve always loved her. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

——

A dull beeping sound echoed in your ears, steady and rhythmic, as the world around you slowly came back into focus. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled your nose, and the soft hum of distant voices murmured through the hospital walls. The fluorescent lights above were too bright, causing you to squint as you tried to take in your surroundings. White sheets, an IV drip, and the unmistakable cold of a hospital bed beneath your fingertips.

You were in the ER.

Memories of the day before hit you all at once—the weight of exhaustion, the way your body had given up on you mid-conversation, and Satoru’s voice calling your name just before everything faded to black.

A gentle warmth enveloped your hand. You turned your head slightly, heart skipping a beat when you saw Satoru sitting beside you. His snow-white hair was disheveled, his usually confident demeanor subdued. There were dark circles under his eyes suggesting how little he had rested.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. There was relief laced in his tone, but also something heavier. He reached out, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” You swallowed, your throat dry. “How’s my… baby?”

For someone who said she wanted to get rid of her unborn child, your concern put a relief on Satoru’s face. “Baby’s okay,” he admitted, his thumb absently tracing circles on your belly. “You passed out, and they brought you here to monitor you. But you’re okay now. The doctor said you were just exhausted. You’re being discharged soon.”

Your mind was sluggish, still struggling to process everything. But then, the most important thought struck you.

“Sachiro,” you breathed, fear clawing its way up your throat. One after another. “His surgery—”

Satoru squeezed your hand gently, stopping you before your panic could take hold. “It was a success.” His lips curled into a small, tired smile. “While you were resting, everything went well. The doctors said it was a textbook procedure—no complications. He’s stable, recovering in the suite room now.”

“H-He’s okay?” Your voice broke on the last word, and Satoru nodded.

“He’s okay.”

A choked sob left your lips as you covered your face with your hands, overwhelmed. After everything, after all the sleepless nights and the heart-wrenching fear of losing your first born, he had made it through. At his young age, having to suffer such a complicated heart disease was something he didn’t deserve, but truly, he was a strong kid. And for that, you were grateful. 

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, grounding you, anchoring you. “Y/N,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your temple. “Sachi’s strong. He got it from his mommy.”

You let yourself melt into him for a moment, closing your eyes and breathing him in. You didn’t know what this meant for the both of you—if anything had changed, if anything ever could. But for now, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was that Sachiro was waiting for you.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your arms. “Do you wanna go see him?”

You met his gaze, eyes still shining with unshed tears, and nodded. “Yeah.”

——

Down the pristine white halls, past nurses and doctors bustling about their duties, your feet carried you with a singular purpose while Satoru walked beside you, his pace matching yours.

And then—there.

Room 721.

You hesitated only for a second before pushing the door open, breath catching the moment your eyes landed on Sachiro. Your poor son. Your poor little boy lay in the hospital bed, looking small and fragile against the white sheets. Tubes and wires were attached to him, aside from the steady beeping of the monitors that signaled his heart’s vitals. A ventilator was also there to help him breathe, and his tiny chest rising and falling in a rhythm was a sight that both reassured and shattered you at the same time.

“Sachi,” you whispered sweetly, stepping closer. “Mommy’s here, baby.”

Your fingers trembled as you brushed his hair back, careful not to disturb any of the medical equipment. He was still asleep, sedated for recovery, but his face was peaceful—far more peaceful than the nights you’d spent watching him struggle.

Behind you, Satoru stood motionless. His normally vibrant eyes were dulled with exhaustion, his face gaunt from two days without sleep. Yet, despite it all, he remained standing, his entire being focused on Sachiro.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Your family surrounded you, offering support, love, and quiet reassurances. Nurses came and went, checking on Sachiro’s vitals, updating you on his condition. The visiting hours brought waves of people—friends, colleagues, even some of Satoru’s acquaintances who had come to check on him.

But through it all, Satoru never moved.

While conversations hummed around him, while people embraced and whispered their worries, he remained by Sachiro’s bedside. His hand rested on his son’s small fingers, his thumb occasionally brushing against his skin.

He didn’t speak much. Didn’t react to the noise around him.

He just… watched.

Watched the slow rise and fall of his child’s chest. Watched the way the monitors flickered with steady readings. Watched the way his son fought to live.

And even as the hours stretched, as your family said their goodbyes, as the night deepened and visiting hours ended—Satoru remained.

His exhaustion was evident. The bags under his eyes had darkened, his shoulders heavy with weariness. But when a nurse suggested he get some rest, he merely shook his head.

“I’m not leaving him.”

And so, he stayed.

With red-rimmed eyes and a body begging for sleep, Satoru Gojou sat beside his son, never once looking away.

You could see the torment in his eyes as he looked at Sachiro, the helplessness of a father who could do nothing but watch. You just couldn’t bear the silence any longer, so you finally spoke. “Satoru… just go home.”

He froze at the sound of your voice, as if caught off guard, but quickly shook his head and wrapped your belly under a warm blanket. “Did I wake you up?”

“I can look after Sachi by myself,” you urged, disregarding his question. “You need to rest.”

But again, he refused. “No.”

“But—”

You opened your mouth to speak again, to reason with him, but before you could, Satoru’s voice cut through the air, breaking in a way you had never heard before. “Y/N, let me be a father to my kids… Please.” His voice cracked, the raw emotion spilling out as he looked at the ceiling with somber, tearful eyes. It was the heartbreak in his voice that made you realize that you were the only family Satoru had left. And it was the tremor in his hands that made you see through the trauma he had developed after he was led to believe for three years that his son had never existed. In a way, you felt responsible for the pain you had caused him, too. “Just please let me love you and our babies. Don’t take them away from me.”

For a moment, silence became your friend. Yet, the quiet that enveloped the room was more of a tender moment suspended in time as you let Satoru embrace you in his arms. You both remained there, connected by the warmth of his hand over yours, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath. He caressed your belly as if you were going to take his baby away—that if he closed his eyes, even for a second, he would wake up to see his unborn child gone. 

But then, a soft knock on the door shattered the stillness.. Satoru’s grip on your hand loosened as the nurse poked her head into the room with an apologetic expression on display.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Gojou,” she began, her voice quiet and gentle, “but you have a visitor.” Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly, but before he could ask, the nurse continued, “Her name is Ms. Akemi.”

At the mention of her name, he immediately sat up, his body tense as he instinctively prepared to stand. You felt the shift in his demeanor, the way his hand slipped from yours as he moved to the edge of the bed. You stayed still for a minute, processing the sudden change, and your heart sinking at the thought of yet another intrusion by her.

You took a deep breath as you began to pull away, already bracing yourself for what was to come, and for the inevitable exit he would make. Like always. Choosing another woman over you. Choosing another woman over his own child. Of course, that’s what he’s about to do, right? You started to gather the strength to let him go, to retreat back into your thoughts, until the nurse spoke again.

“Oh… Actually,” she said, her eyes flicking between you both, “Miss Akemi wants to see you, Ms. Y/N… not Mr. Gojou.”

——

Two things about this moment caught you off guard. First, Satoru’s sudden overprotectiveness—firmly insisting to the nurse that Akemi had no right to call for you again and that you shouldn’t be meeting her just to “talk.” And second, the fact that Akemi actually wanted to see you.

What was the catch?

What was her motive? 

You wondered if this was going to be another Sera moment. 

And you knew, even if your mind told you that you owed Akemi nothing, you were still curious about what she had to say. Would she demand Satoru’s time that you were taking from her? Or was she about to make a scene and call you a homewrecker? 

Strangely, of all the places, Akemi wanted to meet you at the hospital chapel. 

She was already there when you came, sitting at the last row amongst the empty pews, staring at the altar as if her brown eyes were glued to the massive cross in the center. In her solitude, you silently slipped into the opposite side of the pew, not exchanging any eye-contact until she noticed your presence. 

When she turned, she seemed startled to see you. “Y/N.”

You said nothing, only staring at the cross in front of you.

“I was just…” She trailed off, glancing toward the altar before looking back at you. “I was praying for Sachiro. I heard his surgery was a success.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, but your voice was steady. “It was.”

“I’m glad.” A small, genuine smile plastered over her lips. “I really am. He’s a strong boy… just like his mom.”

A scoff threatened to rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t here to fight. Not anymore. Not when you were far too grateful for Sachiro’s successful operation to still be holding grudges on others. But that didn’t mean you had to fake being happy next to Akemi. All you did was nod in appreciation. 

But Akemi hesitated, then spoke again about what seemed to be her main concern of going here. “Has Satoru been here? I mean… all this time?”

“Yes.” A pause. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her expression, but your rigid expression appeared to have intimidated her. “If you’re here to ask him to go home with you, then—”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You blinked. Of all the things you expected, an apology wasn’t one of them.

“For everything,” she continued. “For being with Satoru even when I knew who you were to him. For pretending I didn’t see the way he looked at you, the way he still loved you. I was selfish. I let my delusions get to me, thinking that he’s exactly who I needed in my life to feel whole again.” She then let out a bitter laugh, one that lacked amusement. “You don’t know this, but I used to envy you. Your life. Your place in his heart. The way you had people around you. The way he loved you… The way you have a beautiful son and an equally beautiful husband. I wanted that for myself. I thought if I tried hard enough, if I gave him everything, if I tried to be like you, maybe he’d love me the same way.” Her voice wavered. “But no matter how much time passed, it always felt like he was looking past me. Like he was imagining someone else by his side. And I knew. I always knew.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the edge of the pew. You weren’t expecting to hear all of those things from her. Not after everything that had happened. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Akemi admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. “But I needed to say this. Because I know you’re not happy that Satoru’s been visiting me, too. At least, until he ended things officially between us. And probably until he learned about your pregnancy… Is it true?”

Your breath hitched, but you remained still.

“The baby’s a blessing, Y/N.” She lifted her chin, meeting your eyes with quiet resignation. “It’s exactly what I had hoped for myself… but I’m sick. I’m critically ill. Stage three endometrial cancer, to be exact.”

For the first time, something shifted in you. Shock. Pity. Confusion. You ended up returning her gaze—her lachrymose brown eyes that seemed to envy your entire being.  

“H-He feels bad for me,” she continued, her voice softer now. “That’s why he’s been coming back and forth. He doesn’t love me—not the way I wanted—but he can’t turn away from someone who’s suffering. That’s who he is.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together, not knowing how to navigate a conversation with the sick friend who betrayed you.

“I don’t expect anything from him anymore. And I don’t expect anything from you, either.” Akemi’s lips curved into a sad smile. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m letting go. Of him. Of the past. Of everything.”

You held your breath back. 

“I hope, one day, you can forgive him. Maybe even me. I know I lost a good friendship because of my bad decisions.”

She turned towards you, reaching for your hand that she soon softly squeezed. In that millisecond, you caught a glimpse of Nanami standing by the door, seemingly waiting for Akemi to finish her last words with you. 

“Take care of him, Y/N. And take care of yourself.”

——

When you returned to the room, Satoru was pacing back and forth, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his jaw clenched in barely restrained nerves. The second he caught sight of you in the doorway, his shoulders sagged with relief, but his expression remained taut with worry.

“Y/N,” he exhaled, striding toward you in a rush. “What did she say? Was she rude to you? Did she—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Before he could spiral further, you grabbed him by the collar and silenced him with a firm kiss.

For a brief, stunned moment, he stiffened—his breath catching against your lips. Then, just as quickly, he melted into you, hands coming up to cradle your face as if you’d disappear if he let go. His lips moved over yours, not demanding, not desperate—just seeking, just holding.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes still half-lidded with dazed confusion.

“Stop overthinking,” you murmured, fingers gently brushing the nape of his neck.

Satoru swallowed hard, searching your face for answers. “Y/N…”

But a soft noise from the hospital bed cut the moment short. Both your heads snapped toward Sachiro, who was stirring beneath the sheets, and his tiny fingers twitching as his eyelids fluttered open.

Satoru let out a shaky laugh, a watery grin spreading across his face as he rushed to his son’s side. “Hey, Sachi,” he choked out. “You’re awake.”

You moved closer, blinking away the sudden sting in your eyes as Sachiro groggily turned to look at both of you. “My baby…”

“Mama…? Dada…?” His voice was weak, but the way he reached for both of you made your chest ache.

You took his small hand in yours, pressing it against your cheek as Satoru smoothed down his hair, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “We’re here, baby,” you whispered. “We’re right here. How are you feeling, my sunshine?”

The nurses came shortly after, and then his doctor also took a visit. According to him, Sachiro showed good signs of recovery and ordered the medical staff to remove the devices attached to your son one by one as his progress looked promising. Soon enough, with the doctor’s advice, Sachiro could even start his rehab to be able to resume his normal activities. Everything you were hearing were positive outcomes, nothing but good news. You couldn’t help but feel as if things were too good to be true, and wondered if there was anything substantially bigger that’d come and wreck you. 

The father of your child seemed to have noticed the moment you became silent, swallowed by the anxious thought of what was to come, and he came to wrap his arms around you, securing you in his embrace, and rubbing your belly from behind. 

You could see the nurses noticing your little display of affection and so you tried to push Satoru off, but he didn’t budge. He only held you tighter and buried his face into your shoulder. 

“Let me just recharge here for a bit,” he mumbled, as though you were the battery that was giving him energy. “Just let me hold you, please.” 

——

You hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room yet, and the only real chance to do so came the following night, when Sachiro’s nanny took over in the suite. She kept you updated on his condition, while you—following your doctor’s advice—chose to finally get some proper rest at home.

But knowing your family, they’d bombard you with questions about Satoru the moment you walked through the door. Maybe that’s why you agreed to his suggestion—to stay the night at the penthouse. The same home you once shared as husband and wife.

Was it a rash decision? An impulsive one? Maybe exhaustion had driven you here, standing under the warm stream of his shower as he waited outside. It was strange how comforting this place still felt. How familiar, yet mind-warping it was. This was the same home where he had slept with Akemi. How could you feel both at ease and deeply unsettled?

By the time you stepped out, you stood in front of the vanity mirror, drying your hair as your gaze fell to your barely noticeable bump. You weren’t showing just yet, and knew that there was still time to decide. Did you want this baby? Keeping it meant Satoru would be even more tied to you. Letting it go meant sparing it from a toxic environment and the possibility of inheriting your heart condition.

Lost in thought, you barely heard Satoru’s knock before he entered, carrying your old pajamas. Without a word, he helped you into them with quiet care, his touch gentle but respectfully distant. He guided you like a loving husband would to his pregnant wife, up until you were settled under the warm duvet of your old bed, where he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Is there anything you want for breakfast?” he asked, “Anything you’re craving? Lemon bars? PB&J? I can run to the grocery store now if you want.”

His reminder of your old pregnancy cravings squeezed at your heart. It took you back to the days where you were immensely, unselfishly in love with him. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I’d do anything for you and baby.” 

Maybe this was his way to consume you with guilt, knowing you still haven’t really decided if you wanted to keep the baby, yet here he was doing his everything just to show you how he wanted to care for his youngest. Would you be too cruel to ruin his fantasy?

“I’ll sleep in the guest room,” he murmured when he didn’t get any answer. “Call me if you need me.” 

“Wait.” You regretted your words the moment you opened your mouth. “Stay.” 

Because why? Just why did you ask him to stay? Why did you want him beside you? Why did you enjoy his warmth and his presence and his love? This was the same man who wrecked you to shreds, to pieces. How could you betray yourself and still trust him? 

You didn’t need the answer right now, all you needed was Satoru’s gentle gaze, his careful embrace, and the way he caressed your face as he joined you in bed. You could tell he wanted to try for a kiss, but decided not to cross any lines you weren’t comfortable with. 

“I’m dreaming, am I?” he asked, seemingly musing at the thought. 

You sighed. “I’d hope so.” 

“Y/N.” His voice was soft as he said your name. “I love you.” 

Closing your eyes, you replied, “Give me time.” 

[tarotsoul]

Ghost in the Wind — Part One

SUMMARY: All your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. So why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to Prythian?

WARNINGS: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

Series Masterlist

“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did. 

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home. 

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe. 

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris. 

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.” 

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you. 

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes. 

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them. 

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging. 

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before. 

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs. 

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway. 

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you. 

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House. 

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth. 

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears. 

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath. 

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed. 

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company. 

A/N: Thank you for reading!! This is the first instalment of this mini-series that I literally got the idea for two days ago lol. It'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! Unfortunately I'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but I'll likely repost the ones I have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them.)

If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[psychemochanight]

Dick is everyone's safe place.

Was anyone suffering from insomnia? It just so happens that when they're with Dick, they finally manage to fall asleep.

Was anyone overstimulated? With Dick most of the sensations disappear, just feel warmth.

Insecurity? Danger? Dick is just safe.

That's why Batman feels better when Nightwing comes to the same conclusion as him.

That's why Jason can let his guard down when Dick's around, can relax the constant tension in his shoulders. Sometimes it's even unconscious, but even when they argue he's not really tense.

That's why Tim can fully immerse himself in his work when Dick is around, he doesn't need to be aware of his surroundings.

That's why Damian can feel when Dick is around. That's why he shows his emotions, from anger to joy.

Cass allows herself to make more noise around him, make her presence known.

Even Steph, Babs, and Duke himself allow themselves to trust him, like, for real.

His friends are no different.

Wally has never been ashamed of being who he is around Dick. Whether he wants to talk a lot or a little, eat as much as he wants, be as vulnerable as he wants, be a hero or just Wally. He knows that Dick will never judge him.

Roy knows Dick can be a jerk, but he's a loyal jerk, someone who's never going to betray you. It's just safe to trust him. Admire him.

Do I really even need to talk about Donna, of all people, putting so much trust in Dick, a man? Her Wonder Twin.

He's the universal constant for Superman, the one to whom he personally gave his blessing to use a name from a legend of his world, a part of himself.

Dick is just everyone's safe place.

[fcllederage]

@citizencaged sent: can we just stay in bed all day?

Nuzzled in the man's powerful arms, Hyacinthe was still very much asleep, or at least groggy. His voice was calm, quiet. He sounded just as sleepy as they were. Without them opening their eyes, an arm folded over Johnny's and delicate fingers caressed his skin. "Mm'kay," came the mutter as they buried their face in his neck again. Cassie had gone at her friend's the night before and would not be back until the evening. They had all day by themselves.

[darnell-la]

note: this is a very short fiction with dub con. if you don’t like anything of that sort, please do not read!

“She’ll be fine, just keep going,” Bucky encouraged Bob to continue his thrust, though y/n slightly pushed at the younger man’s lower body. It’s been a long night, and the alcohol is making y/n’s head spin. That wouldn’t stop Bucky, but Bob, on the other hand, was too sweet.

“I think she may pass out. Maybe we should-“ Bob tried to say slow down, but Bucky slapped the back of his head. “Either you keep going, or I’ll start,” Bucky said with a straight face, only making Bob look at him with his eyes now glowing.

“I’m not here to steal her from you, Robert, but one thing you’ve gotta understand about women is their games. She teased us all night, drank, and allowed men to touch her and flirt with her. She made her move, and now it’s ours, isn’t that right, y/n?”

Bucky lightly grabbed a handful of y/n’s hair and made her look up at him. “S-Sorry, I wasn’t-“ y/n tried explaining herself, but Bucky shushed her by letting her hair go with a small push.

“Yeah, shut it. I know what kind of girl you are. Dealt with them for too many years, and I promise you, I won’t disappoint you in becoming the man you want. Now, fucking take him while I get undressed,”

Bucky walked off to the bathroom that was inside his room, while Bob continued to thrust his hips, gradually getting faster until he was slamming into her.

The wind being knocked out of y/n’s body made Bob’s mind fuzzy. The man had too many mixed emotions about feeling bad for her drunken self, but also wanting to take advantage.

She had made him so many tonight, and she knew she was doing it. Even though they’ve never dated, talked about dating, or even made moves on each other, Bob always thinks she shouldn’t be vulnerable and pretty around other men. He wanted her to himself — And, of course, to Bucky, the man who gives him some sort of confidence.

“H-He’s gone, just please — Please give me a break,” y/n tried to keep herself together as her walls began to flutter around his cock. “I can’t do that, y/n, and you know that. You should’ve just kept your distance today. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to be in this position,”

Y/n whined as she released around the man, not being able to hold it anymore. Bob wasn’t exactly a person she’d thought she’d have sex with because of his shyness and awkwardness, yet this was one of the best orgasms she’s ever had.

Y/n continued to plead until Bucky made his way back out from the bathroom. He was naked, cock throbbing with a smirk on his face.

“You’ve been doing good, Robert. You’ll deserve a treat someday,” Bucky said as he rubbed the back of Bob's back. Y/n caught a quick glance at Bob’s face and saw how hard he blushed at Bucky’s comment.

“And, for you? Oh, you’re getting a treat right now,” Bucky said as he grabbed y/n’s face to guide his cock towards her mouth. “Bucky, it’s too big-“ y/n tried her best to plead, but that wasn’t enough.

Bucky’s cock filled her mouth in seconds, barely letting her breathe. “Oh, yeah,” Bucky groaned as he forced himself deeper into y/n’s throat. “I-I didn’t know she could do that,” Bob awkwardly stuttered as his hand traced up her body to caress her face.

“Oh, there’s a lot more she can do, isn’t that right, princess? I bet she can take two at once in a different position. We’ll find out some other time, yeah?”