#ive always had a hard time knowing when to stop when i get emotional

[mamamittens]

Ugh, there's been like, two dudes breaking into my community and failing to steal cars so they leave after 15 minutes and my roomie is getting paranoid despite us being all the way in the back of the community (and much less advised to steal from cause it's far from the exit relatively speaking unless they can jump like, 8 feet to reach the top of the solid brick wall encasing the community).

Frankly, it's a little embarrassing cause this is the second time they've tried and failed to steal a vehicle. Literally just hotwire and drive, the gate opens automatically to let you out dude, what the hell are you doing... And we live next to a speed trap where there's always a cop with nothing better to do than give you a ticket for going over the speed limit so they'd have like... Two minutes to disappear tops assuming the cop drops his keys in the floorboard and can't find them for a minute.

So if anyone has cheap home defense solutions that'd be great. I've been eyeing a solid wood bat cause anyone that wakes me at 3 AM on a workday for bullshit crimes will be spending considerable time in the ICU istg but I'm open to suggestions. I have neither the money or the permit to buy a gun so forget that.

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[sereniv]

apologies are hard and can be embarassing

but life is too short to let your grandma go to bed sad

[yongseungkim]

.

[pascals-doll]

B.A.S

⋆ ˚ . * ·analysis— In which you were bound to a man you don’t desire or love by your parents. An entire relationship built on resentment and treaty-like. Abby Anderson, you’re neighbor whom lived happily with her girlfriend next door. Unruly cravings and wreckful thoughts take over between the both of you, assuring a succulent dalliance. Guess you Both Aint Shit.

abby anderson x reader

₊˚ପ MEGANS NEW ALBUM GOT ME ON MY TOESS 💋

˚ପ i cant believe ive had this lil plot thought out written somewhat since march and i never had time to finish it and im happy i finally did!

₊˚ପ description: MODERN AU! READER IS FEMININE PRESENTING (only desc of reader), MUTUAL CHEATING!, reader is kinda in the closet because of prejudice parents, mentions of heavy religious parents, reader is in arranged marriage with a man!, mutal jealousy, homewrecking, SMUT NAAASTYSMUT, dom!abby, sub!reader, oral sex (r receiving), reader is unexpirenced!, brief size kink, praise kink, heavy making out, fingering (r receiving), lots of pussyeating, no use of y/n,( ___) is blank for partners names, use of pet names (doll, beautiful, baby)

A lavish life was the experience of finding love on your own, letting it grow on you, and completing whelm your entire being. It was the process of getting to know each other to first kiss, to the ask out, to the relationship, and if your lucky; you build life together.

The stage of growth and love; where you plan as you’re just overfilled with emotion. That trigger to jump with joy at the fact that you’re building a whole life path with your special someone.

Years spent learning about each other, sharing parts of yourselves, and taking that time to progress hand in hand; harmoniously. Something, everyone should have the unlawful pleasure of doing.

It something you’ve always dreamed off, feeling it so close as you watch through your curtains. A secret craven in peeking into the silhouettes of the house next door.

You had seen them together for the past year since they moved in. Their happiness almost tangible as they enjoyed each other's company in the pool or on the patio, sipping cocktails and laughing.

You were hardly ever envious in the years you’ve been on earth—but it’s almost taunting like, the way they have so much to give. Truly in paradise with their passion for each other. Although, something didn’t always seem quite right.

Your life never stopped being stifling. You were bound to a man you could never love. An unfair business arrangement orchestrated by your parents alongside constant trips-pointless trips; taken by your close to nonexistent husband.

Abby's girlfriend was also often away on business, and you suspected that she was lonely. Going throughout your day and then coming home to see her in all alone, all day, in that big house.

The entire marriage was a sham, a rule-set of convenience. You couldn’t help yourself any longer once Abby moved in.

Often finding your eyes drifting to her, imagining what it would be like to kiss her peached lips, engulfed within those muscular arms. Such thoughts made you blush, and ignite a feeling in your stomach.

You couldn’t do anything except push your own crawling agenda away, only to have them return with greater intensity.

Abby Anderson was a phenomenal women. She was lead cordinator at a business with the pleasure to provide and work from home. She deserves someone who can take care of all that hard work.

Her girlfriend clearly couldn’t.

‘If you live a life you don’t love, make best of what you want.’

You had never been with a women before. Only close you’ve ever gotten to exploring was dabbling in lesbian porn when your husband wasn’t around. It didn’t take long to dawn on you—that you had never orgasmed, especially not in the way these women in adult videos do and definitely not with your husband.

It was pitiful, really. The fact you couldn’t enjoy such a liberty. Your own sexuality.

A faraway dream of self-discovery and not the norms fed to you by religious beliefs that you couldn’t claim as yours. Dragged on by your parents whom taught you, it was ‘all in good faith’ and ‘Lord knows whats best’.

The only explaination for your abomination of life. Merely neglectful to your candied desires. Wrong, yet right in every way. You were loosing sleep as nights pass, tossing, and turning restless.

Rolling out of your silk sheets groggily. You stepped into your house slippers before walking down your stairs to your living room where your pack of cigarettes are. You grabbed the pack of your dining table, heading out to your front porch.

It was midnight, blurred gray clouds into the black-violet sky as you lit your cigarette and dazing away. You could feel the stagnant air surround your exposed skin, your lacy satin nightgown—a slip of fabric only covering you.

Unbothered and insomatic, taking drags from your malboro as you sat next to your ashtray that displayed on your side table. If you were to turn your head; facing towards and into all your temptations.

From just the corner of your eye, you could see the lights were still on at such an hour. Impulsively giving into your curiosity, turning your chair; peering into her window across the street.

Puffing till your ash thins into the orange-tip. Your attention drowned out until you heard rustling coming from the bushes at the corner of the street and your home. You whip your head around, blunting your cigarette out onto your ashtray and walking towards the barricade of your porch.

Abby was taking out the trash. She dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. She looked relaxed, her long golden hair falling casually around her face. Eventually catching you, offering a friendly wave and came closer to the fence of your porch.

"Hey there!" Abby greets, cool-toned and intrigued. "Can't sleep either, huh?"

Your heart hammered in your chest. "Sure is, just came out for a smoke…uh-hm! How have you been?" You stammered your question, unsure of what to say.

Abby couldn’t help her gaze drop to your nightgown, her eyes glinting under the streetlights. "Just been cooped up alone, taking care of Bear and ____ is away on another business trip.” She exudes, smiling at the mention of her precious furry friend.

You listened intently, a small smile tugged on your lips “____ been gone since the week before. Preoccupying myself by enjoying my magazines alongside my tea,” You let out a small giggle which was returned.

Abby’s presence tensed you, goosebumping your skin as if you were cold all of a sudden.

A small moment of silence was a momentum of chance.

“Would you like to come in for a glass of wine or water? I’d be a horrible neighbor if i left you hangin’” You offer, stepping aside with a soft smile.

She took you in once more, head to toe and an adrenaline pumped throughout her body before spreaking, “It’d be my pleasure”.

4 words 1 sentence. A saying so simple is all it took, to have you clawing at your sanity.

Two cups of Wine turned into more and lighthearted conversations transformed sentimentally with each cup.

You bonded over the fact your partners often left for work, leaving you both lonely in such a big house. Eventually divulging your marital fraud, your desolation worn on your sleeve like an accessory.

“That’s truly not necessary—” you were cut off.

“Accept nothing but the truth, he doesn’t recognize how lucky he’s got it.” You picked up on how her voice turned stern, straightening up as she reassured you. You just stood there frozen.

You gulped, wrapping your arms around yourself as you suddenly felt exposed. You scrambled to think of something to say, your delusions wanting to take this in every way it wasn’t.

Abby suddenly closes the gap between the both of you, leaning onto your counter and into you. You could smell her perfume, the scent of fresh orcid and essential oils tickling your nostrils.

Maybe It was.

“Do you love him?” A very solidifying question.

“I dont know what love is and I definitely don’t love him, more like my parents did.” You grimaced, sarcastic and plainly disinterested in such a discussion. You truly have nothing to compare your marriage too.

“I hate fucking him too. Don’t feel a thing.”

Abby’s eyes widened, her hand reaching over to grasp yours. “Have you—do you like women?” She quirked, a soft giggle falling from her lips.

“Again. Wouldn’t know, sweetheart.” The nickname seemed so naturally. Like, you had been calling her that forever. Your eyes met with Abby’s; face to face with only so much space.

Then suddenly, she settles her strong hands upon both of your arms “And If i showed you?” She was so gentle with your demeanor, treading lightly.

She wanted it just as bad, just like you.

Her breath fanning your lips causing you to hitch. A trembling hand reached out, your hand brushing Abby's cheek, her hands pulling you from your waist. A passionate kiss spun.

It was electric, your lips molding together, tongues dancing in a frantic exploration. Abby moaned into your mouth, your hands roaming loosely down to grip your neighbor's slender hips. You responded by pressing yourself against Abby, feeling the firmness of her breasts through both your clothes.

Kissing desperately, hungrily, as if starved for each other's touch. Breaking the kiss, Abby nibbled on your ear, a weak whisper falls from your lips, “I need you….” Muttering in between kisses.

“Bedroom’s upstairs.” You finish. Abby taps on the cheek of your ass, signaling you to jump into her embrace.

Stumbles and giggles to make your way upstairs and down the hall to your master bedroom. Abby pulled away from you, looking around the room, seeing the mixture of objects from your husband and your own.

In some way, the infidelity. It made it rapturous.

"Lie down," she ordered you, her voice suddenly husky and full of authority.

you obliged to her command happily, body thrumming with excitement. You watch her climb onto the bed, hovering above you and eyes pouring into your own; a mixture of lust and tenderness.

"You're so beautiful," Abby’s voice was low as her eyes ran up and down, running her hands down your body. Each streak feathered on from her fingers tickled your skin, squirming as you legs lock together.

You felt a fluttering in you stomach at the compliment. "So are you," You meeked shyly, a pink hue on your flustered in face. You were breathless as Abby began to kiss at your neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin.

Abby continued her slow exploration, trailing kisses down your body, pausing to nuzzle your breasts through your top. "I want to see all of you," she whispered, her hot breath fanning over your tempered skin.

Heart was pounding in your chest as you nodded. The feeling of her gentle but eager hands as she threw off your clothes, baring you inch by delicious inch.

She paused to appreciate each reveal. The swell of your perked breasts, the curves that dipped your body, and to the drag of your soaked panty down your legs.

Completely naked and to her taking, Abby took a moment to admire you. Her eyes ran down over every inch of your exposed-self, salivating at your glistening arousal. "Better than my dreams," she murmured, voice full of wonder.

Insatiably on the same side of a coin. You reached for Abby's top, eager to return the favor. You peeled the fabric away, revealing her lush breasts, nipples eager with the cool breeze with excitement. She metled into your touch as she kicked off her shorts.

It was your turn to admire everything you’ve awaited. Her body glistened under the dim lighting of your room. The way eyes smoldered with desire tranced you as she positioned herself between your thighs. Your needy slick center coarsed Abby’s head; hovering above and planting pecks on your thighs.

Abby leaned into you. The feeling of her mouth searing kisses on your delicate pussy and her thumb teasing the taut peak of your tits. Your back arched arched into her touch, moaning softly as you reveled in the sensation of finally being touched by another woman. By her.

You notice the way she took her time with you. She was observant with each twig and jolt that came from your body, savoring you. She sweetly elicited a series of delighted gasps and whimpers from you as she continued her descent, twirling her tongue around your clit and teasing you down to your folds.

You choked out a cry of shock, “Fuck-ah!" you seethed, your hands gripping your bed sheets. You could feel Abby chuckle softly as she relishing sucked on your puffy clit. You felt like you were on a cloud, feeling completely elevated.

“Gaah! Ab—Abby!” Your thighs tremble in her grasp, feet kicking into her back slightly at the new found pleasure. The jolt that coursed through you felt ferious with the feeling of her moist tongue. She made her way inside your folds, teasing your whet entrance.

Suddenly, you feel the tip of her tongue plunge inside you, “Abby! fuckk Abby!” You let out a throat-curling shriek. Each lick inside you was a push of boundaries.

Legs trembling, mouth fully-agape, back arched, tits begging to be touched, nails clawing into your sheets, and grinding into her face completely high off ecstasy. Everything was new to you. The sex, passion, and connection. A seventh heaven.

Just as quick as the erotic came; it left. She pulled away from your eager pussy and anticipated body causing your back to drop and pant breathlessly.

"Patience," she murmured, her breath tickling your sensitive folds.

She continued her slow exploration, indulging her tongue as her fingers dance along the skin of your blimped thighs. Your breath hitched as you were dying of anticipation for her touch, her tongue.

Finally, fucking two fingers into you as she paid attention to your clit. Your deplore was sensuous, another train of cries and whines falling from your drooled lips.

Everything Abby did made you feel absolutely desired. Another thing, your husband could never do.

"You're so wet," Abby praises through her slurps and swallows of your leaking lithe. Abby’s fingers thrust forward, pushing in every inch of herself.

Her eyes darken as they watch themselves get squeezed in by your soppy fuzzed beneath. "So beautiful," she marvels, not getting enough of you.

"Don’t stop! please!”

Her thick fingers curl upward, she stroked your walls with her tips. She enjoys every moment of your writhing. Abby could live in this moment forever.

She smiled as your hips bucked up, chasing after every sensation. "So responsive," she purred, before adding a third thick finger inside you. she stretched you out completely, feeling every bit as your hands tugged onto her blonde hair.

She pulled her fingers out alight from so deep, dragging her tongue down once more your slick folds and lapping up your essence.

"Oh god!" Your moan gutteral and body thrashing against her and your bed. The tip of her fingers swirled inside softly, pressing onto your soft sex-gush.

An electrifying chilled jostled down to cramped hips as your stomach twisted blissfully. "Cum for me," she praises, working through your overwhelming orgasm.

Lewd spewls and ravenous chill flowed out and through you. Completely mind-fucked as you cream all over the tip of her fingers and tongue. Your body tightened like a coil, coating her with your sticky release with a final cry, "Oh, Abby!" As she cupped your leaking cum around her three fingers.

She brought them up to her lips, sucking them clean, releasing with a pop, and groan in delight. “You’re so fucking heavenly, taste it too.” She coos, crawling her way to meet your glowed and fucked out-self.

“Don’t tap out now, doll, I’m only getting started.”

Both of your integrity’s thrown out the door.

“This isn’t….” A pointless mumble left your lips, somewhat dawning the fact; You just cheated on your husband.

“They aren’t even here, right baby?”

a/n: ugh my slut ass probably gonna make another part 🤞🏼🐇

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[euno11a]

Tattooed Hearts VII

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities

Pt I • Pt II • Pt III • Pt IV • Pt V • Pt VI • Pt VIII *** God, she was meant to be a quick fuck and leave. Why couldn’t I get her out of my mind? I need her…

It was stupid of me to get drunk, and even stupider that I went to her apartment. She didn’t want me there, but she looked so cute in her pjs, I couldn’t help staying. I wasn’t so drunk that I couldn’t move, how’d you think I got there? It was a good excuse, even if she didn’t know it, to get her to touch me again. Her touch was intoxicating, something my body craved, yearned for, but I fucked it up. Ever heard the saying ‘drunk words are sober thoughts?’ “M’missed you…you looked s-so good in that long thing you were wearing in the flower home…”; “Baby, I know what I’m saying…miss you…miss your pussy…miss your love…”; “So pretty…su..such a good girl…my baby…” Even if some thought are more vulgar than others, they’re still true. Showing up drunk probably proved her point of how reckless and selfish I am, but you don’t know how much I miss you. I couldn’t get you out of my head, your curves, your eyes, your laugh…I need you beside me.

Playing limp body was fun, I got to hold her leg, cuddle up to her and even kiss her a little. So I have to pretend to be drunk all the time? No, no, bad idea! You’re trying to prove to her that you need her and only her. It was supposed to be a romantic gesture of some kind, but it failed…miserably. What happened to me? Every time I see her now, talking with Eloise, laughing with V, something burns inside of me. It’s an emptiness that I can’t explain, eating me from the inside out. Using other women to try and fill the hole was a shitty idea, especially since she found me with one. I think I get somewhere with her, but then I fuck it up again. She kicked me out of her apartment, “Stop coming to me when you’re high.” That one sentence haunting my mind, making me lose sleep at night. I fucked it up so bad, I need to earn her trust again, I can’t breathe without her. She doesn’t know the things she does to me, making me spend hours in my office, fucking my hand imagining it was her. My blood boils every time I see her with V, she laughs at his jokes, he gave her juice. He gave her the juice I bought for her, waiting for her to come back! Of course I had to lie to the others, saying I mixed up the flavours, no way I was telling them about the girl I was pinning over that I was also waiting for to return. God, I was whipped…

You were hard to find. I had to dig through the fucking system at work to figure out how to contact you. I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a creep, I just knew you wouldn’t willingly give me your number! And I doubt Lindsay would give it to me either. You sounded so sweet over the phone…your voice was like honey, something I’d be willing to drown in if it came from you. Yeah, you hung up on me, but I got to talk to you for a little! I’d call that a win. Another win was when you took the bouquet…I knew you’d like them. You always told me how you loved secret stories behind things, even if I could T give them to you, I’m glad Eloise could. Building that bouquet was hard! I wanted to take all the flowers you liked, but that wasn’t allowed. If I had a dime for the amount of times Eloise slapped my hand and told me to express my emotions through the flowers instead of pick what was prettiest, I’d be a millionaire. All those flowers that were strategically placed to tell you a story were working. After work, I’d come in to ask Eloise if you’d stopped by, gladly listening to her as she told me about your sweet smile and laugh, the way your nose scrunched up when you found a new flower and wanted to know what it signified. All of this will be worth it in the long run. Seeing you at the bar alone, sipping your rum and coke made me smile. The drink you ordered the first time we met. Sitting down, I expected you to leave or to tell me to leave. But you didn’t. Sure, you put up a fight, telling me to spit out what I wanted, so you could be alone and drink in peace but I wasn’t expecting you to listen. “I want you,” it just slipped out. But it sent shockwaves through me when you spoke “If you want me…like genuinely want me, you have to beg for it.” I had never been one for begging, but if that’s what it takes to have you in my life, I will beg for hours and hours, days, weeks, months. I need you in my life.

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[kybercrystals94]

Letting Go

Read here on Ao3

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 6 | Battle Scars

Rated: G | Words: 903 | Summary: Story takes place just before Omega leaves to join the Rebellion.

Crosshair sits down next to Hunter on the sand. “Omega told me what happened.”

“I’m sure she did,” Hunter says. It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he does not try to take it back. It seems that age has worn down the barriers of his emotions, bitterness and hurt leaking through.

“She said you were being unreasonable, overbearing, and overprotective,” Crosshair continues. “Not to mention your listening skills need some work, because you only care about your side of the argument.”

Hunter’s frown deepens. “Good to know.”

“And I said,” Crosshair goes on, as though Hunter hadn’t spoken, “the same thing I said way back when she was only about this big.” He holds out a hand to demonstrate.

Hunter rolls his eyes, because they never knew Omega when she was that small, but he gets the point.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?”

Hunter sighs. He’s too tired to play this game. “What did you say?”

“Don’t hold it against him. He’s only worried about you.”

Hunter turns to look at Crosshair, surprised. “When did you tell her that?”

“When we were going to Barton IV,” Crosshair replies, digging a toothpick out of his pocket. He puts it between his teeth. “That kid’s always trying to prove herself, isn’t she? That she’s one of us.”

“She is one of us,” Hunter argues.

Crosshair huffs. “Of course she is, but she’s not a soldier, Hunter. She’s our kid, not our brother in arms. I don’t think she’s ever figured out the difference.”

“So she wants to join the Rebellion because she wants to prove herself as a soldier?”

“Not entirely, although I think that is part of it,” Crosshair says.

“And the other part?” Hunter asks.

Crosshair meets his eye. “She might not be a soldier, but she is a fighter. We raised her that way, didn’t we? To stand up for the defenseless, to do what’s right?”

“That’s not…” Hunter stops because his voice gives out, barbed anguish ensnared deep in his throat. He tries to swallow it away, but it is unyielding, so his voice cracks and breaks around it. “That’s not what I want for her. I want her to be safe. I want her to be here.”

A younger Crosshair might have looked away, trying to comfort from arm’s length. But just as time has made carefully constructed emotional walls brittle, time has softened the sharp edges of his brother. The former sniper moves closer, knocking their shoulders together. “I’m scared to lose her too.”

“We fought so hard to get away from war,” Hunter says brokenly, “to get Omega away from war. And she wants to throw herself into another.”

“I don’t want her to go,” Crosshair says. “But I think she’s already made up her mind. I don’t know where she gets her stubbornness from. Certainly not from me.”

Hunter chokes on the laugh that bubbles up through the mire of sorrow. “Hate to break it to you, Cross, but you’ve got a stubborn streak a hundred klicks wide.”

“Do I?” Crosshair muses, and Hunter glances at him in time to see a grin twitch his lips in the moonlight. “Because she reminds me an awful lot of you.”

“I see a little bit of all of us in her,” Hunter admits, “and yet she is still something all her own.”

Crosshair hums in agreement.

“What if she loses that?” Hunter asks. “What if joining the Rebellion steals that spark she’s always had? We changed so much from the time we were cadets and then soldiers. We didn’t have a choice. But Omega does. She doesn’t have to face the horrors we did, experience the pain and suffering. She’s safe here. Why can’t that be enough for her?”

“Omega already has battle scars, Hunter,” Crosshair says. “You think she went unscathed living the life she did before Pabu? The kid’s tougher than she looks.”

“I never said I didn’t think she could handle it,” Hunter argues, “She just shouldn’t have to.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Crosshair says. “She wants to. Whether we like it or not, she’s a grown woman. She needs to make her own decisions. She needs to have her own cause, her own life. She won’t have us forever!”

That last sentence is like a blaster bolt to the heart, a burning, white hot sensation that drives the breath from Hunter’s lungs. But he takes the pain and shoves it deep, turning his grieved anger on Crosshair instead. “So you want her to go. You’re encouraging her.”

“You know that’s not true,” Crosshair bites out, and Hunter can hear the effort his brother puts into controlling his own, retaliating anger. “But it’s not up to us. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We have to let go.”

Bruised silence solidifies between them, and Hunter can’t find it in himself to disturb it. He should apologize, should appreciate Crosshair’s attempt at playing the mediator in spite of his own feelings on the matter. Why does Hunter feel at odds with every sibling, no matter where they stand on the issue?

“You’re stronger than I am,” Hunter mutters at last. “Omega can just talk to you about it…but with me, it’s a fight. Why?”

Crosshair sighs. “Because she doesn’t want my blessing, Hunter. She wants yours.”

And the last of Hunter’s brittle, emotional barrier crumbles completely.

END

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[loveandmurders]

You belong to Ambrose IV (Poly!Sinclairs x f!reader)

Alright, I was supposed to post this a lot sooner but life got in the way. It's finally here, and I hope you'll enjoy it like you did with the other parts.

This is the final chapter of the "You belong to Ambrose" series that you can find in my House of Wax masterlist.

This is the direct continuation of last chapter, that you can find here.

Warinings: no proofreading, mentions of murders, violence, sexual desire, very morally grey reader, angst/kinda comfort

A part of you wanted to let the Sinclairs win you over. But another part of you wanted to believe you were a good person. And a good person couldn’t love murders, especially not the murders of their own friends.

You wanted to get away from their touch, but the twins were too touch and love starved to let you get away from their hands that easily. They were both trying very hard to stay calm, because they didn’t want to scare you off. But truth to be told, they had no idea how long they would be able to keep it together if the love of their lives kept pushing them away.

The front door opened and Jonesy left the three of you to run greeting Lester. You were thankful for this distraction, especially when Lester called his brothers’ names, surprised to not find them in the living room or in the kitchen. He knew they couldn’t be sleeping, not when things weren’t fixed with you.

“Comin’” Bo replied.

The twins got up and they helped you doing so as well. You clearly couldn’t go back hiding in your room now. They gently guided you downstairs and Bo settled in the kitchen to fix something for you. You greeted Lester without showing any expression on your face. You weren’t too sure what to do. Lester shyly smiled at you and moved a hand behind his neck, as his eyes drank in the sight of you.

“Hey, Y/N. Ya lookin’ real beautiful, ya know. I thought so the second I saw ya. Ya’ve always been pretty, but now, ya’re just as perfect as a goddess.” Lester said. He had always been the one showering you with nonstop compliments. 

“Thanks Lester.'' you simply said, as you didn’t want to seem to enjoy the sweet words coming your way. 

You sat at the kitchen table with Vincent and Lester.

“And it’s really nice to have ya back home, because your absence was all drivin’ us quite crazy. It was hell actually” Lester softly babbled again, because he couldn’t help when he was around you.

“You all seem to have done pretty well without me” you tried but the three men exchanged looks. They really hadn’t.

“We’re talkin’ ‘bout ya all the time, ya know. I think ya’re our favourite subject of conversation; the only one we can have without arguin’. We always agree we want and need ya back home” he admitted which made the twins groan but they didn’t stop Lester from talking. It was good that one of them was that straight forward about their feelings for you. Vincent even hoped it would help relax you around them.

“Ah yes?” you couldn’t stop yourself from being a little bit curious, and flattered about it. “Don’t see what you can talk about though” you hummed with a shrug. But Lester quickly shook his head

“Ya’re the girl of our life, so of course we’ve got a lot to say ‘bout ya” he brightly smiled and you looked away, feeling yourself blushing.

“Didn’t know Bo rubbed on you and you became a sweet talker yourself” you replied to hide your emotions. Vincent snorted in amusement, Bo arched an eyebrow at you and Lester blushed as well.

“Just speakin’ the truth” he defended himself and you hummed. “We never stopped bein’ in love with ya. Never stopped thinkin’ ‘bout ya.”

You all stayed silent after that, but it wasn’t as tense as before.

You thanked Bo for the food and ate, lost in your own thoughts. You could feel the boys watching you, but you were used to it. You had always been the centre of their attention. And you used to enjoy this very much. You could really pretend that nothing happened, that you never left Ambrose. You knew the three men around you would like that very much. Especially when for the moment, they had to keep their hands to themselves.

They all wondered what you were thinking about but they didn’t want to upset you even more than they already did, not when your relationship was on a thin line like that.

The more you thought about the situation, the clearer you realised you were mad at them because they killed your people. Your friends deserved a happier and softer ending. You were quite heartbroken still. And you knew it was your fault too. 

It was your fault because your fate has always been to get back to Ambrose and you should have come on your own. Destiny wanted your road trip to end in the Sinclairs’ arms, and it was certain the brothers wouldn't leave anyone around you. They were jealous and possessive beasts. You hated how conflicted your emotions were: you were mad at the brothers and at yourself, but you were also very relieved to be there. You were home. You were where you belong. You would forget about your friends soon enough, once the guilt would wear off, like it always did. You weren’t such a good person, and you knew it.

And yet, you were the brothers’ angel, perfection, goddess.

You kept thinking and you realised your mother was a “problem” in the not so planned Sinclairs’ objective of having you back. They could kill your friends, but they couldn’t kill your mother so easily. And she would notice your absence, and she might call the cops and tell them about Ambrose if you went missing for too long. And your dead friends… You couldn’t believe how impulsive the brothers had been. You weren’t too surprised though; they couldn’t think straight around you.

“You really are idiots, sometimes” you whispered but they heard you. They were relieved to hear you talk to them.

“Why that?” Bo asked

“You killed everyone but… what’s the plan for my mother?” you said and the boys exchanged a look. 

They had talked quite a bit about it earlier that day and they didn’t know what to do. Their priority was having you, but they were aware they would need to deal with this as well. And quickly, before they could lose everything forever.

“What do ya offer?” Bo asked and you chuckled

“Not my mess” you replied and he frowned

“Ya didn’t tell her anythin’ earlier. I know ya’re on our side” he pointed at you “Ya ain’t wantin’ to admit it but ya’re happy to be in Ambrose again. It’s why ya came so close by. Ya were just afraid we’d kill ya or hurt ya, but now ya see we only want ya back, ya want to stay” he said and you hated how close to the truth he was. You refused to acknowledge his words as you bit on your bottom lip.

“She knows about Ambrose and she knows about my road trip with my…” you sighed “She knows. She’ll worry, she already started to do so.”

“This is indeed a problem” Vincent agreed

“But ya wanna stay, right? And don't wanna anythin’ bad happenin’ to us?” Lester asked you, giving you his best puppy eyes.

You looked away and didn’t say anything at first. Of course you wanted things to be alright for once in your life. 

You had often dreamed of that moment and it always ended the same: or you killed your mother or you killed yourself. You never thought it would all become true though. You had never thought you would truly be back in Ambrose with the three men you loved.

At least, you knew what to do. It was as if you had planned all of this from the start. Or maybe it was just the Devil whispering to your ear.

“I… I’ll need some time to forgive you all for what happened to my friends” you said

“And we’ll do anythin’ ya wanna” Bo hummed and you believed him

“I know. And yeah I’m happy to be back. And I never stopped loving you all either” you admitted, feeling a little bit shy about it. You didn’t look at them, but soon enough your were pulled into their embrace. Bo had been the first one to react to your words by getting up and grabbing you for a big hug. Vincent and Lester soon joined in. You relaxed into their warmth. You all felt complete once again.

“There is only one way” you whispered “We need to fake my own death. I mean like something official. My mom must believe the police found my body and that she buried it” you finally said. You leaned away to have a better look at them.

They reluctantly let you go as they thought about your words.

It would allow you to resume the only life that was meant for you, without anyone to look for you. Your mother would have never let you get back to Ambrose and now that your friends were dead, it was only making things even more complicated. If you all disappeared, it would be alright.

You knew there would be no coming back from this though. Once you would be no one, you would never be able to get back in the real world. You would be stuck in Ambrose forever, with the people you loved. You would finally be yourself again. A part of you was aware you were choosing over Hell, but love isn’t soft. Love is destructive, consuming everything and everyone until nothing is left. You were finally feeling alive again.

“The next tourists who come here, we violently kill them, we break their teeth so they can't be identify and we put them in your car. We drive far away, where you were supposed to be, and we burn everything down.” Bo quickly found a plan

“We need to be certain…” 

“Don’t worry, darl’. We deal with this.” Bo assured you with a charming smile and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Shit happens and it’s not necessarily linked to Ambrose” Vincent signed, knowing you were worried the police would find the place

“My mom will accuse you right away” you replied

“I’ll make sure the cops won’t find Ambrose” Lester smiled at you

You wanted to trust them with that. You knew they were smart and resourceful. And it was about you, it was about your future together. You could trust them. They were going to protect you, they were going to keep you all theirs again, they were finally be able to be happy again too.

You finally nodded “Okay, then.”

You took your phone from your pocket and handed it to Bo. He would be able to use it if he needed to. And he would be able to destroy it too. You were handing the brothers your life, like they had given you theirs a long time ago. Bo cupped your face and softly smiled. You saw his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

“Nuh nuh, still mad at y’all. You have convinced me to stay, not to be your girlfriend again” you said as you moved away from his touch. Both the twins groaned at yours words, but they respected it. And they were going to do anything to get you back like before.

Once you would allow them to touch you like they used to, you knew they wouldn't stop kissing and pleasuring you for quite a while. They were hungry for you. Lester was cheeky enough to believe he would be the first one to get back in your good grace.

You all stayed silent a little longer. You were thinking you were crazy, but you were so calm about all of this. It felt right, no matter how wrong it was. 

Lester brought you back to reality as he took your hand in his, his eyes bright with happiness.

“Hey, Y/N, welcome home!”

---

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[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (1)

summary: reader couldn't stop having deaths in her life ever since the Supersoldier serum came into her life. no matter how hard she tried to stay sane, it seemed that life didn't want to give her a break. until, one afternoon, she learned that one of her old friends was alive… (you guys know im bad at summaries, but please give this one a chance)

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4.5k

warnings: angst, major character deaths, canon deaths¿?, bad words, english is not my first language! thoughts of revenge and death, this is like an introductory chapter, so the buckyxreader interaction is low, but it'll get better, i promise!

note: holy fuck guys. i just spent like five hours writing and editing this and i fucking love it. its been a while since ive been this proud of a work, im actually scare the emotion will disappear, but i really want to rejoice in this one. i wanted to write something a little different from my usuals, maybe a little common in the fanfiction world, but i started and i simply could not stop (or maybe just approach this bucky fic from another perspective). so this is the first part and i'll try with all my heart to keep this going because it was fucking insane, at least for me. i really hope you all like this as much as i do! feel free to leave any comment! thanks always for all the support!! see you next time <3

part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

When you went into the Supersoldier serum project with Steve, you thought you were going to change the world. Of course, at that time when technology was relatively new any invention felt like the beginning of a new era. That's how it was all sold to you and it was how you expected everything to turn out… Until you realized that it was all really a waste of effort and time.

They were just propaganda for war. Not to stop it, to promote it. To motivate it.

You tried, on several occasions, not to think too much about it. You tried to stay out of it as Steve sometimes asked you to, even though even he didn't want to, as Bucky asked you to when you lay on his shoulder to cry in the little time you had free between trips. It was a great burden of guilt and helplessness.

Until you and Steve, with the almost imposed help of Peggy and Howard, rescued Bucky from the evil hands of Johann Schmidt and his nefarious organization, HYDRA, that, unbeknownst to you, would haunt you for a long time to come. It was only after that, after spending several sleepless days on edge thinking about what might be happening to Bucky, that you and Steve were finally able to go out and contribute something. Destroy HYDRA and the Red Skull's plans.

Of course, you realized that not everything could go right when, the one mission you couldn't attend, Bucky didn't return. And then Steve didn't come back either.

“Do you think this will ever end?” you had asked Bucky the day before his last mission.

“Of course it will,” he had answered without hesitation, moonlight illuminating his clear eyes, squeezing your hand as if it was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. “And after that we can begin to live as it should be.”

But there was no after that, because you never recovered from losing him. From losing them both.

“Are you okay?” Peggy approached, in the middle of the afternoon when the sun was streaming through the stained glass windows of the church, illuminating the spot where Steve's empty coffin had been, because they didn't even find his body. They didn't even think there was any of it left.

You barely moved your head to acknowledge her presence, moving the prayer slip they had recited throughout the mass between your hands. Your eyes were crystallized, in tears that no longer even made the effort to flow, because you had already spent too many days and nights crying. Peggy had been on the other side of the church, sitting next to Howard while the priest spoke, because you had refused to be near them in those moments. You didn't want to be near them.

“As well as one can be,” you slurred, finding that it had been a long time since you'd last used your voice for anything other than cursing and crying disconsolately.

The people had already left, probably an hour or more ago. The empty coffin had already been brought out, all the flower arrangements had been picked up, and the priest was preparing for the evening mass. You knew you had to leave, you knew Peggy and Howard were there waiting for you, but you felt stuck at that moment. You didn't want to leave, you didn't want to get ahead, you didn't want that life if it had to be this cruel.

You heard Peggy's sigh, before she took a seat next to you, a short distance away, averting her gaze to look at Christ on the cross.

You didn't know if you were selfish to be so closed off to your friends at this moments, because they must be grieving as much as you were, but you didn't know how to deal with the future possibilities. Bucky and Steve, great men and soldiers, one even with enhanced abilities, had not been able to make it through the punishment of war. What if Peggy and Howard were the same? What if they too had the cruel fate of dying at the hands of injustice? Could you deal with that? With everyone gone?

Maybe you could open up to them a little more because if not, who else? Turning away from them was not going to ensure their survival in this hate-filled society. Maybe you could protect them, like you couldn't protect Steve and Bucky. Maybe you could make a difference, because you had the chance to.

“You know,” Peggy spoke again, rearranging herself on the bench and crossing her legs, “Steve always knew this was how it would end.”

Her wistful, mournful, fragile voice sent a shiver through your body. Peggy didn't consider herself someone to show herself vulnerable in front of others no matter how close they were, even in those things that hurt her the most, in those things that affected her personally and made her eyes water instantly, she always tended to shut down. And at that moment you didn't dare interrupt her because you knew it would probably be the only time she would talk about Steve in a long time.

“Sometimes we'd talk, between tour trips, and he would tell me that wasn't what he wanted to do, even when he had to convince you otherwise,” her clasped hands would occasionally squeeze between words, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He didn't know if he'd made the right decision.”

You could almost picture him, backstage at the foot of the stairs with that notebook he carried everywhere and wouldn't let go, Peggy at his side nostalgic, as helpless as the others. It reminded you of the times you'd had similar conversations with Bucky, desperate to find a purpose, a way through so much fog.

“The first time I saw him so sure of himself was when he asked us to help them look for Bucky,” she mumbled his name, as if trying not to scare you away by saying it too loudly. “Ever since then it seemed like he'd found that spark…”

“Until Bucky died,” you whispered, the words cutting through the cold and silence, Peggy shifting on the bench contritely.

“He lost something of himself from that day on, it wasn't hard to tell. The next time I heard him so sure after spending days lost, it was on that call from the plane.”

Peggy paused, raising her hand to cover her mouth as her voice faltered. You turned to look at her, wishing you could rip the pain from her soul and leave it in yours. She was trying to contain her emotions, breathing deeply, and in that moment you wondered what life might be like from now on, with the specter of grief following you around, waiting for the next time the dead knocked on your doors, unexpectedly, without allowing you to say goodbye.

“He had told me he wouldn't die in peace until he could get it all over with. And he took it all with him. And I hated him so much for it…” Peggy sobbed, her labored breathing standing out between words. She kept looking straight ahead at the stained glass windows, the expression on her face hard and scowling despite having tears rolling down her cheeks, as if she were trying to blame something for what had happened. Her reproachful eyes fixed on the Christ.

Her wails echoed through the walls of the church, the father on the dais sending them a look of sorrow. He had offered you water, thirty minutes after everyone at Steve's wake had left, when they kept walking, and you stood there.

Another empty casket.

“Ladies,” Howard's voice reached your ears amidst all the physical and emotional numbness. You could barely notice Peggy wiping under her eyes with the pocket square that was surely part of Howard's suit, as she took breaths to get up. “We should go now.”

You heard him walk, his slow, careful steps stopping just behind you. There, on his feet with his chest tight, he rested a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze in support. He knew it was the most you would allow him at a time like this, deciding not to pass up the opportunity to let you know he was there. You sighed, feeling a heaviness take over your body as you stood up.

“Yeah, let's go.”

The next few months passed in a blur. Maybe too fast, maybe too slow, you weren't sure anymore.

Peggy continued to work at the Strategic Science Reserve for a couple of years, calling you from time to time to help her with some jobs. You kept a low profile, practically a fugitive from the state, while trying to live a halfway normal life in Europe. A lot of it thanks to Howard really.

Life had become a rather monotonous routine when you stopped getting so many calls from Peggy and Howard several years later. You knew they were fine, but not being able to return to the country filled you with anguish every day. And trying to lead a normal life became too complicated when you looked in the mirror and it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in that capsule of Dr. Erskine's with Steve.

Until Peggy called one day asking you to come back. She told you that it was safe, that there would be no state officials waiting for you at the airport, but even if that had been the situation, you wouldn't have hesitated for a second to buy the first plane ticket and fly to see them again. To Howard and Peggy, to melt into an embrace, longing for the lost years.

You had thought that contributing to the fight in World War II had earned you a ticket to at least be recognized in the military, but all you gained was the government with their mad scientists looking for you to try to recreate the Supersoldier serum. Peggy didn't want to risk you and Howard gave you no choice by giving you a plane ticket to Finland with your bags packed.

You wasted many years not being by their side, unable to keep the promise you had made them in your head to be close by to protect them, to watch over their safety.

But when you left the airport there was only Peggy, and maybe that should've told you everything.

Her hair already looked gray, the effects of gravity and time present on her face. You hated to think that you shouldn't have looked any different from the way she saw you last time when she waved you off at that same airport. Her warm gaze was the same, raising her arms with held back tears to encircle you in a big hug. She tried hard not to sob against your shoulder, you felt the choppy movement of her breath against your chest.

She looked so different and the same at the same time.

You walked to her car a moment later, her trying to carry your suitcase and you telling her you were perfectly fine carrying it on your own. Amidst a smile, she walked into the driver's door and you frowned as you saw the empty passenger seat.

“Where's Howard?” you spoke as you sat down, after stowing the huge suitcase in the trunk of the car. The way you moved to buckle up, you didn't notice the way Peggy froze in place, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her breath hitched from the effort.

“We're going to see him,” was all she said, but she was very good at hiding that something was wrong. Only for a little while.

During the trip, even though you tried to ask things about them, about what they had been doing during this time, you didn't miss the way her shoulders were tense or her eyes very alert. Something bad had happened and Peggy was trying to hide it from you.

When she pulled up in front of a church, you already knew what had happened without her answering a single one of your questions.

Howard had died.

You two had sat next to Howard's son Tony, his spitting image, in complete silence as the prayers went on. At that moment you didn't know what had happened, hoping it had been a quiet and peaceful death, because you didn't know if you would be able to endure another violent death.

Peggy gave you all the details when the mass was over, after the coffin was taken away, and you hadn't felt such fury in so many years. Not since the deaths of Bucky and Steve had that adrenaline rush of anger returned to run through your body as violently as it did at that moment, when Peggy told you that he had been murdered along with his wife. All to steal some prototypes of Dr. Erskine's serum. The damned serums with which everything had started.

This time there was a body in the coffin, but there was also a culprit. Someone to point the finger at and take it out on for years of anguish and pain.

You were at Peggy's house, staying for a few days, when she told you that wasn't all.

Peggy had a suspicion that HYDRA hadn't disappeared when Steve crashed that plane into the ice. Her suspicions generated panic in you, because Bucky and Steve had died for that, now apparently Howard, only for it all to have been for nothing. The feeling of carnage that ran through your whole head made you nauseous, years of helplessness and pain pent up in such a small body had to find its way out somehow.

“It was a man, according to the information I've been able to gather,” Peggy spoke, taking a seat across from you in the dining room of her living room, after pouring you a glass of lemonade. “He didn't die from the crash. He had a concussion. He was hit in the head. His wife died from asphyxiation.”

“Does Tony know?”

“No,” Peggy shook her head quickly, one hand over her heart as if the mere thought caused her physical pain. “It didn't even occur to me to tell him something like that.”

“And he was looking for the serum,” you recalled, a bitter feeling planted in the back of your throat, the memories of the disastrous times during the war coming back into your head like a blinding flash.

“He took them. We don't know who he is or who he works for, but whoever they are, they must have been following us for a long time to know about them.”

“You mean years,” you arched an eyebrow, your fingers touching the cool exterior of the glass seeking some reassurance.

“Possibly. That project isn't recent,” Peggy nodded, drinking her lemonade with a grimace. You stared at the liquid almost finished from her glass, a wrinkle forming between your brows with each passing second and you kept wondering why.

“But what the fuck was going through that asshole's head?” you spat angrily. Rage at already the amount of lives that serum had taken with it and at Howard's recklessness. Rage at the reaper who seemed to be following in their footsteps for some reason, rage at that damn man and whoever his damn boss was.

“It was the only option, Y/N,” Peggy turned her gaze, meeting your eyes with a strange glint.

“What do you mean?” you were almost afraid to ask, your friend's gaze suddenly turning evasive. You watched her run her fingernails over the glass of the tumbler, lost for a moment in thought. The way her shoulders slumped forward in defeat caused a pressure in your chest that made it hard to breathe. Peggy shouldn't be going through these things at this point in life.

“Howard was working with the Pentagon, as a contractor or something. They had found you. Howard felt cornered and they made him sign an agreement.”

With your incredulous look on her face, Peggy didn't dare look back at you for a few seconds. So much had happened since you had left and it seemed that you had only been told about the things you weren't going to care about so much. But if you had known that you wouldn't have cared much about giving some of the state officials their comeuppance. You would've liked Howard to trust you enough to tell you, not live in as much fear behind his back as the last few years must've been. You didn't like the way Peggy's lips curved downward, as if she, too, would've preferred to make another decision had she known this was how it was going to end.

“Howard assured them that he could recreate the serum, and told them he would as long as they left you alone.”

“Fucking asshole…” you closed your eyes, scrubbing your face with your hands. The rough skin of your hands rubbed against the delicate skin of your face, years of combat and mistreatment foreseeing a harshness that reminded you every day of what you'd had to go through to get to that moment.

“I only found out about it after it happened. I didn't see it for like a whole week,” Peggy shook her head slightly, her eyes glistening in the pain of the memories. You shook your head hard, a more violent reaction than you could have anticipated.

“That stupid… stupid asshole! What the fuck made him think I couldn't defend myself?”

“He was trying to do the right thing,” Peggy finally searched your eyes, meeting the red rims that told her you were holding back too hard breaking in front of her, only using that pain mixed with rage to keep you sane.

“And look how that turned out!”

Peggy stretched her hand across the table, with a pleading look asking you to lower your voice, averting her gaze to the hallway. You followed her gaze, for a second forgetting where you were, forgetting that her family was with you behind the doors where you were plunged into darkness. It was past midnight.

You took a second to calm yourself, trying to drown out the uncontrolled emotions and taking deep breaths to calm your fluttering heart.

“And if what you theorize is true…” you regretted the moment those words left your mouth; you didn't even want to finish the sentence.

“Do you think it is?”

“I don't want to,” you shook your head instantly, closing your eyes, the thought sounding illogical inside your head. Your hands on your chest trying to contain the storm of feelings that was making chaos inside your head. “That would mean that everything we did, everything Bucky, Steve and Howard did and sacrificed, was in vain. It will all have been in vain.”

You spent several weeks with that thought in your head, working hand in hand with Peggy, and the organization you barely knew as SHIELD, to track down the whereabouts of the killer of Tony's parents and the one responsible because the Supersoldier's serums were, surely, in the wrong hands.

And yes, it was many years of fruitless missions and dead ends, with you running every field mission and Peggy calling the shots from the New York facility. Every time you felt close to discovering something, it seemed that the enemy rejoiced in your failures and still couldn't understand how they were always three steps ahead.

However, you had to leave the missions when Peggy became ill.

The silent, lethal Alzheimer's.

During the first months in the hospital, she still recognized you. She also recognized her husband and children. But after the first year, she frowned every time her children walked through the door. After a year and a half, her husband had to remind her that they had been married for about forty years.

After two years, she was still only remembering you, Howard, Steve and Bucky. Her whole life during her time in the army was all you talked about, sometimes you would tell her how much more time had passed than she remembered and always, without fail, she would ask you how much you had done in Europe for so long by yourself.

She cried every time she remembered Howard's death. She cried every time she remembered her children. Out of her mouth came a thousand apologies that no one would accept, because there was nothing anyone could do to prevent what had to happen. You wished she had been a serum test subject instead of you.

For several years, missions to find Tony's parents killer were sporadic because you spent more time around Peggy than at the SHIELD facility. She was the only thing you had left of everything you'd ever had, of when you held the world in your hands. She was the last thing keeping you tethered to that reality, keeping madness from flooding your reason. How could you have so many years ahead of you when that was all you had to live for? A life full of the dead, full of pain and suffering. What kind of karma were you paying for?

You were leaving the SHIELD facility, after another failed mission, when Nick Fury stopped you in front of the exit. You almost rolled your eyes right under his watchful gaze, tired of having to meet him anywhere, and exhausted from his comments about this vengeance project or whatever he wanted you to be a part of.

You still didn't know how, being such an exemplary agent, Coulson had fallen into his nets.

“Miss L/N,” the man stopped you with his words, his hands behind his back and a tense stance that caught your attention.

“Fury,” you nodded in his direction, hoping he'd be quick because you were running late for your weekly visit with Peggy. “Do you need anything?”

“I'd like you to come with me somewhere,” Fury approached tentatively, his one eye fixed on your wary expression, which shifted to boredom the moment you thought you knew what he wanted.

“If this is about that project, I've told you a thousand times-”

“No,” he interrupted you, moving forward and removing his hands from behind his back. “It's not related to that. I really want you to come with me.”

“You look agitated, but I need-”

“I'll take you to see Peggy myself after this.”

You didn't like that he knew your routine, even though you weren't doing enough to hide it from the other agents. But Fury looked nervous, even though he was hiding it very well, trying to keep his cool as he looked for ways to convince you.

You figured it wouldn't be a big deal for you to go off the deep end for once. After all, Peggy never remembered you were going to see her.

You set off in Fury's armored vans, not quite sure where you were going, but sure that it was urgent, because he had taken it upon himself to let his driver know that you had to get there as soon as possible.

You took that time on the trip to come up with a new strategy for the next mission because what you were doing up to that point wasn't working and you felt too close to throwing in the towel, figuratively speaking. You could spend years following a ghost, but you wouldn't give up on finding Howard and Maria's killer.

Before the car pulled up to one of SHIELD's secret sections, they passed the giant, imposing Stark Tower. You never saw Tony again after that time at his parents' funeral, not even during his visits to Peggy because you always made it a point not to cross him. You didn't think you'd be able to look him in the eye while you knew his parents had been killed without being able to tell him. You had promised Peggy in her lucid moments that you wouldn't tell him anything until you could find the culprit. You didn't want to initiate that pain if it had to be kept repressed, as yours once was, and probably still is. You had learned, some time after the funeral, that he was living with Edwin Jarvis, and you were glad to know that he would have good companionship to keep him company in such hard times.

Fury, a handful of agents and you entered the vans through the entrance to what appeared to be the parking lot of an old warehouse. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the number of armed agents that seemed to be guarding the place, not at all discreet to how SHIELD used to do things. You weren't sure if Peggy would authorize something like that, but you couldn't question the Director's decisions. It wasn't your place.

“What's going on here?” you frowned, watching as every meter there was another agent and another agent. You got out of the car without waiting for an answer from Fury, moving directly toward the entrance where most of the agents were concentrated. You barely noticed their looks in contradiction, running their eyes over you and then over the man trying to catch up to you, dubious as to whether or not they should move. “Move.”

“Wait,” Fury's voice stopped the command in the agents, who turned back to look at you as you sent Fury a confused look.

“What's all this mystery, Nicholas?” the man startled almost discreetly at your tone of voice, the agents stirring uncomfortably, but kept the serene expression that was getting on your nerves. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We got a call from the Arctic.”

“From the Arctic?”

You tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck instantly stood up, your body alerting you to something your mind still couldn't comprehend. You felt like a deer face to face with a predator, expecting the worst.

“The Colonel informed us of something that might interest us,” Fury's cryptic voice echoed in your ears, drowning out the flicker of uncertainty vibrating from your head to your toes. “They found a plane.”

You didn't even answer him. Your heart began to pound wildly, cornered, ready to have your head bitten off. The tension in your shoulders intensified, with the involuntary movement of your hands as you broke into a cold sweat. The mere implication of his words caused an emptiness in your stomach, a sense of longing and fear you hadn't felt before.

You looked at Fury, trying to find in his gaze the gleam of a lie, but there was nothing there but assurance. There was nothing but recognition and understanding in his gaze, but that didn't make the emptiness in your stomach and the tight chest go away. It didn't make the feeling of being outside your body go away.

You barely remembered to move in the direction of the door, the agents instantly moving out of your way, pushing it so hard that one of them flew out. You moved your eyes around every corner of the room, the cream-colored walls generating a great repulsion in you. And there, in the midst of all the confusion and the storm, a confused and disgruntled face looked back at you. A face you never thought you would see again.

Steve Rogers was standing a few feet away from you, barely comprehending what was happening around him and instantly recognizing you. Your chest compressed once again, the tears you held back for so many years even in your loneliness making their own way into your eyes, endangering to end that mask you wore everywhere you went.

Steve was actually there, looking back at you with his eyes shining in recognition. You didn't know if he was as surprised as you were to react or you looked so bad that he didn't know if he should approach you or not. You just knew it was him, it really was him right there in front of you. He wasn't dead. Steve wasn't dead. He was alive. Ah, he was so alive.

The broken sob that suddenly left you was loud enough to make your friend shed his stupefaction and stride over to where you were. You barely managed to cover your face, between sobs, wails and disbelief, feeling your knees give out, surrendering to the weight of the pain, when his strong arms grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor. Preventing your fall, as you had wished so many times before.

You cried against his shoulder, when feeling him against your body you knew there was no doubt it was true. You moved your hands away from your face, wrapping them around his waist as tightly and lovingly as you hadn't hugged anyone in so long. Surely the last time you hugged someone like that was when you saw Peggy on your way back from Europe.

Steve wasn't far behind, his arms around your shoulders just as tightly, his chin against the crown of your head, moving from side to side trying to hold back the loud sobs that shook your body.

You couldn't believe it, but it was true, he was right in front of you.

Steve was alive. He had come back to your side. You didn't even want to ask why.

And there was nothing else you could think about for the rest of your life.

[aurora-starwars]

Hi! So ive seen that you take requests so i thought i give a try.

Could you do an imagine where the reader is the auntie of the kids? She treats them very good and is very gentle with them. She wants to make the kids feel that they can tell her everything.

So when one day neteyam comes to tell her that jake was too hard on him again, she tries to comfort him. She tells him that he is not a disappointment and he shouldn’t always take the blame on himself etc.

I hope you get what i was trying to say. I hope you have a great day! :D

Family Is Not An Important Thing. It's Everything.

Pairing: Sully Family/Neteyam x fem!Aunt!reader (platonic)

Summary: Aunt!reader comforts neteyam after a fight with his dad

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: crying, mentions of Lo’ak being an idiot, mostly angst with fluff <333

A/n: Thank you so much for requesting! I really liked this idea, sorry it took so long! Trying to get as many fics out as I can! Enjoy!!

Masterlist

[Name] had always been close with the Sully kids. From the moment Neytiri found out she was pregnant, [Name] had been an important part of the family.

It started with helping Neytiri function in the last few days of her pregnancy, grabbing objects off the ground, bringing her food to her while Jake was on a hunt, and helping her walk when she struggled. Neytiri was more than happy to have her sister help her and her new family.

But as the years flew by, [Name] became a friend to the Sully children. A open ear, a shoulder to cry on, a person to come to when you have no one else.

So when Neteyam entered [Name]’s hut, tears in his eyes threatening to spill, [Name] was happy to help.

Walking over to Neteyam, [Name]’s eyes quickly scanned his face for any signs of wounds or injuries. It wasn’t unusual for Neteyam or Lo’ak to walk into her hut with cuts or gashes from stupid things that would get them in trouble with their parents. She would sigh and clean them up, try to make them laugh before pushing them out, telling them to go do something useful, smiling while she'd rolled her eyes.

But as she looked over Neteyam for any sign of anything, she came up dry. The only give away was his eyes. Neteyam’s eyes, usually full of joy or annoyance as he interacted with his siblings, held a familiar emotion [Name] knew all too well.

Neteyam had a bad habit of taking the blame for his siblings mistakes, mainly Lo’ak’s as he made many. While [Name] didn’t blame him for this, seeing as he often felt his role as the oldest was to protect his siblings, she did feel bad every time she saw that look.

Smiling to Netayam sadly, [Name] asked:

“Is it your parents?”

To which Neteyam only nodded gently, still trying to hold back his tears.

“Did Lo’ak did something stupid?” [Name] asked again, voice getting increasingly more gentle as as the story in her head started to solidify.

Neteyam nodded again, his lip twitching downward for a split second.

“And did you take the blame for it,” [Name] watched as Neteyam looked at the ground in front of him.

“Again?” [Name] questioned softly, already knowing the answer.

A single tear fell from Neteyam’s eye as he nodded once again.

“Oh Neteyam, I am so sorry.” [Name] walked over to him, enveloping him in a hug.

Neteyam held stiff for a moment before completely falling apart in his aunt’s arms. Quiet sobs filled [Name]’s ears as he let all of the moments he took his parent’s wrath for Lo’ak. He could usually handle it, as he would claim, but the truth is it really got to him.

Neteyam has always had a great love for his family, from the moment he was born he was brought in to the world that only seemed to shower him in love. The same love he hoped to give his sisters and brother when they were born. But since Lo’ak came of age to get in trouble he couldn’t get away with, trying to shower his trouble-making brother in his love became nearly impossible. Neteyam loved his brother, he really did but [Name] understood that that does not stop Lo’ak from being an idiot. She can say that from personal experience.

As Neteyam’s sobs slowly subsided, [Name] released him from her gentle hold.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” [Name] saw Neteyam wipe his eyes quickly, taking a deep breath before he nodded.

“What has happened, my child?” [Name] asked, leading him to a soft place on the ground, where they sat down.

“It’s my dad,” Neteyam looks at the floor.

“I’m not even sure if I am upset at Lo’ak, even though he is an skxawng. Most of the time he means well, even if his actions don’t show it…” Neteyam trails off for a moment before [Name] sees his fist tighten into a ball.

[Name] rests a caring hand on his shoulder, nodding to prompt him to continue.

“But my dad… He just doesn’t understand! He doesn’t understand that Lo’ak is just young and stupid and that we are not soldiers! We are his sons! “Neteyam threw his hands in the air as he huffed in frustration. “And sometimes I wish that he wouldn’t yell at me or Lo’ak so much for just being his sons.” Neteyam finished with a sad, soft whisper.

“Neteyam.” [Name] spoke carefully, hoping to get Neteyam to look at her.

Neteyam turned his attention from his hands in front of him to his aunt. It was only after he looked up that [Name] could see the tears still streaming down his face.

“Neteyam, you are a wonderful kid and an even more amazing sibling. I know that it’s hard to take the blame for everything, and I know it’s hard having your dad not understand. But you are never alone. You know that?”

Neteyam only nodded softly.

“You can alway come to me, and even though you think he is an idiot,” Neteyam giggled at [Name]’s choice of words. “I am sure Lo’ak would be there for you too. Neteyam, even though it sometimes doesn’t seem like it, your father loves you very much. He loved you so much he wanted to have more of you!”

Neteyam laughed again, starting to finally feel better.

“Personally, I think he might treat you like soldiers because he wants to protect you. And if he can’t do that himself, I think he hopes that you will follow what he says so that you won’t get hurt. Although I get that that is frustrating, he just wants you to be safe. After all, this family is all he has.” [Name] finished, giving Neteyam an understanding smile.

Neteyam looked away for a moment, thinking about what his aunt said. When he determined that it made sense, he turned to his aunt before pulling her in for a quick hug.

“Thank you for making me feel better, Aunt [Name].” Neteyam said gratefully, smiling wide seeming feeling much better.

“Any time, Neteyam. Now go play with your siblings or ride on your Ikran!” [Name] smiled, watching as Neteyam waved as he was running away.

Although conversations like those were hard, [Name] would never turn down a chance to help her nieces and nephews. Those children felt like her own at times, and she wouldn’t trade them for anything. So as she watched Neteyam get on his Ikran and fly away, she promised herself she would always be there for the Sully family.

A/n: Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you liked or didn’t like! <33333

Master-list

Taglist: @nyotamalfoy

[persephone11110]

tummy hurts || j.seresin

tw:grooming,childhood trauma, emotional manipulation, past sexual abuse->child sexual abuse, self victim blaming-victim blaming (not jake) mentions of alcohol, past child neglect, the school system failed, jake calls reader goldie, Y/n hit Jake in chest a couple of times

summary:“Little girls like you aren’t loved”.Your head was laying on the pillow next to him, your naked bodies touching eachother, he loved you…you loved him.

IMPORTANT NOTE: this is a very sensitive topic so please tread carefully also please let me know if there should be more trigger warnings

AN: a fic born after falling into a PLL hole on tik tok and the title comes from Tummy Hurts- Renee Rapp. Also ngl the reason Ive on a break was bcus my fics were going downhill and sad as it is it hard watching other fics blow up and your can’t even make it to double digits within hours.

—

THIS FIC IS ABOUT CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE/ SEXUAL ASSAULT, SELF& VICTIM BLAMING, AND CHILD NEGLECT

—

“Sweetheart?” Jake asked slowly, unsure if his old man hearing was fucking with him. His voice dropped to a lower tone as more rage filled his chest.

Saturday nights were designated for you dine with your husband. A night were you and Jake catch up with each other, his aviation schedule and your college professor schedule was hard to work with.

You hated drinking more than one glass of wine as it always made your tongue loose. Somehow you managed to pour another glass it felt nice to let loose—what didn’t feel nice was your husband knowing how much dignity you didn’t have as a teenager.

“Goldie, you were how old” Jake grabs your hand, gently taking the glass out of your hand. Careful not talk to roughly. He watches as the color drains out of your face.

You were lucky enough to have a history teacher who didn’t give up on his students—especially not you.

Mr.Daniels, the best history teacher there was, he had goods and bad days. But who didn’t?

You and him bonded over the love of historical events. He didn’t tell you to stop talking or, to get the hell out. He would sit there with a warm smile listening to you go on and on about history.

You don’t how many times you’ve tried talking about your interests to mom and dad. And how many times they’ve stared at you with a blank face, or told you to go away.

But Mr. Edward Daniels didn’t. You had the privilege to call him Eddie when it was just the two alone inside the classroom after school hours.

He called you Y/n and you called him Eddie when you laid your mop of brown curls aganist his bare chest.

His blue sheets wrapped your naked body, the hickeys that riddled your stomach and hips.

“I was fifteen Jake”. you sighed dropping your hands into your lap. “He was a freshman history teacher—it was his first year teaching”.

“Y/n Collins”, he dropped a hand onto your shoulder, “I like the way you argue kid”.

“Fifteen, jesus”, Jake rubbed a hand over his face,“How come you never brought this up before sweetheart?”.

Not even a butcher knife could cut through the silence in the room.

Because you loved him. He gave you the love that no one else would.

“Its been over decade Jake…. times were different back then”. You said, chewing at the bottom of your lip. Your bouncy leg betrayed in how confident you sounded in your response.

“Doesn’t matter what decade were in you were a child and he was adult”. He softly glared at you, “His job was to protect and teach you about wars and he couldn’t even do that”.

You leaned back into couch wishing the damn thing would swallow you whole. Why’s Jake trying to make you seem like a victim—you aren’t one you and Eddie were lovers in the past.

Jake sat across from you he had a death grip on the beer bottle. “He loved me Jake, he was the first man to ever give me a chance of being loved”.

Jake felt the need to empty his stomach at the words that came from your mouth. He scooted closer to you, there wasn’t any space between the both of you anymore.“Was it just a one time?”.

You couldn’t look your own husband in the eye.

Jake would know how dirty his wife is.

Your silence was enough for him,“It wasn’t one time Y/n?”. Jake eyebrows furrowed,“Y/n whatever answer you give I hope you know I’d never shame or judge you”.

“We lasted for atleast for over year in half, before the school transfered him out of state”.

How long would It take me to find him and kill him.

Son of a bitch was transferred, he didn’t lose his teaching license.

“Goldie”,Jake calls your name gently—while grabbing your hands into his. “Look at me”.

You curled into yourself—Jake’s mad at you. “ Please don’t yell at me”. your voice hiccuped, you were begging him. You could handle anything but Jake Seresin yelling at you with so much anger and digust filled in his voice.

“Oh I could never blame you baby not now, not ever”. He gently cupped the side of your face, “I need you to understand how this isn’t your fault baby”. He moved around and positioned himself to make your foreheads touch eachother.

“Jake” you mumbled before you shoving your face into his neck. “I’m-”.

Jake shook his head at you he gently pulled from him,“Darlin i don’t wanna you even to think about apologizing to me”, He pressed a kiss into your cheek before speaking again.“The only one who deserves that is you, the adults around you should’ve looked out for you, your parents had one job and it was to just love you”.

You curled into yourself, you didn’t deserve Jakes love.

“Sweetheart i’m sorry for my rant here it just makes me angry that all those adults in your life and no one protected you, a innocent child who willed for love and attention from her parents”. You held onto Jake tightly afraid that in a split second he change his mind and leave you.

Your breathing became shaky and weak the hiccups got worse—your sobs got louder.

You weren’t a victim.

Jake Seresin didn’t know what he was talking about, your husband wasn’t there fifteen years ago.

He’s wrong-.

“Sweetheart”. Jake reached to grab you, “Y/n”.

Your arms become flailing, your were pretty sure your hands and Jakes chest connected atleast once or twice.

“Its okay Y/n, Its okay sweetheart”, Jake was finally able to get a grip on you—pulling your head ontop of his chest. “Shh baby, let it all out”.

“He hurt me so much Jake and nobody cared”, you sobbed.“When I finaly got the courage to tell my parents they looked at me and the first thing that came out their mouth was whore. “Y/n how much of whore do you have to be to sleep with a man well into his early forties?” -.

Jake wiped a tear from your face.“You got someone who cares Y/n, you have someone who loves you just as you are”. Jake sighed, would he be bad person if he took the nearest flight to his wife hometown and he beat old man to a pulp?

Bad man or good husband?, those lines tend to blur when the love of his life gets hurt.

“Baby just say the word me and the daggers can hop the earliest flight and kill a man, while Ice and Mav are our alibi’s”.

Jake catches a small smile breaking through—its small but he’ll take it . “Theres that smile that broke my pool winning streak”,Jake smiles into your shoulder.

“Thank you Jake for loving me, thank you for piecing back my broken pieces”. you murmured quietly, knowing that if you go another octave higher theres a chance that you’ll start crying again.

“Oh baby I should be thanking you, you trusted me with your heart— and Y/n you were always whole you just didn’t feel it”.

My tummy doesn’t hurt anymore.

[saintjosie]

hi! no idea if you take asks like this but thought i'd try. i'm writing a transfem character in a fanfic (in canon they are a cis guy, i just headcanon her as trans), specifically about effects of estrogen. i'm doing a lot of research but i was wondering if there's anything specific you think would be important to know? ty in advance if you do answer! <3

oooh what a fun ask!

having recently taken a stab at writing some fanfic myself, i think the things that would be the most helpful are the things that are more anecdotal because i’d imagine those would be the things that would help get inside her head.

first, there’s a lot of stuff about some of the physical changes out there like softer skin, thinner body hair (but not necessarily less) boob growth, fat redistribution, changes to color perception, eyes and lips appearing bigger because of skin changes and fat redistribution etc. but also really important to writing a trans character is the pacing of the those changes.

the changes are slow. much much slower than most people want. there’s a specific frustration in the slowness because while some changes happen quickly, other take years. and also frustration in comparison. some people see changes within weeks or even days. some people don’t see anything for months or years.

in my own personal experience, everything happened FAST. within a few DAYS i had the beginnings of breast buds. within a few weeks skin had visibly softened and changed texture, especially on my face. but other things took more time. i didn’t really have real boobs until 2.5-3 years in, even though i saw other people with the same timeframe or shorter have much more breast development. the patience required can be excruciating but also the joy is overwhelming and it’s a constant cycle.

and another thing i don’t see talked about too much bc it’s hard to qualify and sometimes hard for some people to notice are the way i process emotions and the way i think about things. now HUGE caveat, some people will use this as a way to justify bio-essentialism and transmedicalism and so it’s very important to note that this is MY experience and uniquely interacts with my own journey.

when i started hrt, within a few hours of taking the first dose, i felt different. not physically, but almost as if there was a peace in my soul because my mind became less cloudy and i could differentiate my emotions more clearly. and i used to think this is because t-blockers means no t and no t means less angry but trans mascs would tell me that their experience with t is the same and not the opposite. i’ve now realized that kind of thinking was actually invalidating to trans mascs on t. and ive realized that its actually because testosterone didn’t feel right in my body and removing it from the equation helped me understand myself better. i had always experienced emotions in this way and my discomfort with my body had stopped me from understanding the complexity and nuance with how i was feeling.

and it took me YEARS to understand what had happened. and it happened alongside of being in therapy and a lot of personal growth. hrt was the catalyst but it was the effort i put into growth that made the difference.

if you have any more questions, i’d love to share more cause i think it would be fantastic if more people who were not trans fem would be able to write trans fem characters with substance, nuance, and complexity! it’s difficult but important and thank you for attempting to do so and approaching this with respect!

[xiao-zhen]

Words Better Left Unread, or Is It? ~ Part III ☆

Part I Part II Part IV

Picture: Macaque's Dojo

“Shift a bit more to the right, Mk. To maintain your balance on your tail, you really need to tune into the sensation,” came the encouraging voice.

“It’s my tail, and I can definitely feel it! But no matter what I do, I keep tipping over!” Mk protested, frustration evident in his voice. He lost his balance again and landed unceremoniously on the ground with a soft, defeated “oof.” Wukong chuckled, but Mk could tell something was bothering him despite Wukong’s attempts to hide it. Mk paused and looked at Wukong, who was balancing on his tail. He always found it interesting that his tail was a little longer than Wukong’s but not as long as Macaque’s. When Wukong stood up, his tail didn’t quite reach the ground.

In contrast, Macaque’s tail appeared softer, and when it was raised, some of it even touched the ground. Mk realized that discussing Macaque might be a bit premature, as it would likely bother Wukong. However, knowing Mk’s curiosity, he couldn’t help but ask in a way that wasn’t very subtle; he ended up saying it out loud.

“So, Monkey King, why is Macaque's tail longer and fluffier than yours? And how is it that his tail is longer than ours, even though all three of us are monkey men?” Wukong didn't expect Mk to bring up Macaque, especially given the timing. Wukong's expression revealed that something was off, which Mk surprisingly noticed. Nevertheless, Wukong answered the question. 

"Some monkeys have different characteristics. I have less fur than Macaque. On my chest, there is a pink patch without any fur, while the macaque has a smaller, red patch that looks somewhat spiky but is soft, has a different shape, and is covered in fur. The same applies to our tails; his is long, mine is shorter, and yours is in-between compared to ours. But don't worry, you'll get a better sense of your monkey form at some point!"

Mk suddenly realized that Macaque was supposed to be at training today, just as he had promised. But where was he? Concerned, Mk turned to Wukong and asked, “Hey, did you see Macaque? He was supposed to be here for training today.” Wukong furrowed his brow, unsure of how to explain Macaque’s absence. He thought, Oh no, I really don’t want to have to tell Mk this. What could he even say? “Macaque writes letters to me that he never actually sends, using them to help process his emotions. Recently, Savage decided to give one of these letters to me. I couldn’t help but read it, and now Macaque is probably panicking and avoiding training to escape the situation.” Yeah, Wukong is definitely not on board with telling Mk.

Mk couldn't help but notice Wukong's reaction and asked, "What happened? Don’t tell me you two got into an argument, and he didn’t show up just to spite you?" Wukong froze; that wasn’t exactly what happened. It was partly true but also partly not. However, what Mk said next made Wukong freeze again—this was a terrible idea!

Mk crossed his arms, and frustration was evident in his voice. “Wukong, stop acting like a child! This isn’t just about you anymore,” he reprimanded, shaking his head. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’re handling this? If we don’t confront him together, we’re only making things worse!” He took a step closer, determined to get through to Wukong. “Macaque helped us defeat Lady Bone Demon and retrieve the scroll; he’s on our side! You need to trust that we can face this, but if you keep backing away, you only isolate yourself. We’re going, and that’s final!” His tone softened just a bit as he continued, “I know you’re scared, but you’re stronger than you think. We can do this together.” After that, Wukong looked like a dejected child, his shoulders slumping and his gaze cast downwards. The weight of doubt and fear clung to him, making it hard to find the resolve he once had. He seemed lost in thought, reflecting on the dangers ahead and the uncertainty of their mission. Clearly, the burden of their struggles weighed heavily on his heart, and the flicker of hope he had was now dimmed. 

Mk explained that he would take Wukong to see where Macaque lived, suggesting it might help clear the air. “I’ll wait outside while you two talk,” he said, trying to reassure Wukong. “Sometimes, facing someone in their own space can change everything.” He glanced at Wukong, gauging his reaction. “Just remember, this is about understanding and finding a way forward.” With a nod, Wukong seemed to soften a bit, the tension in his expression easing. They set off, hoping this meeting would be the first step toward healing the rifts between them.  He paced back and forth, gripping his hair in frustration. Mk couldn't help but say that he felt like the wise Subodhi. 

With Mk, they flew onto Wukong’s cloud in his bird transformation, guiding the way to Macaque’s dojo. When they landed, Wukong noticed the area where Macaque lived. “Is this where he lives? In this neighborhood? It’s a pretty dangerous area,” he remarked. Mk pointed out, “Yeah, but he’s the Six-Eared Macaque; he should be fine.” Wukong noted how Mk spoke about Macaque; it was clear the kid viewed him positively, seeing him as a warrior—the warrior he once was. Wukong then realized, “A dojo? His place is a dojo?” He couldn’t help but snicker, but his laughter quickly turned to nervousness as Mk approached the door to knock. 

They heard Macaque's voice drift through the air, husky and heavy with fatigue. "Not interested," he said. His tone had an unmistakable weariness, a grogginess that suggested he had endured a restless night. Clearly, he hadn't slept; the roughness of his voice indicated he had spent hours tossing and turning, possibly preoccupied with worry or contemplation. Wukong couldn't help but wonder if the arrival of that letter had affected Macaque to such a degree that it robbed him of his rest. This thought weighed heavily on him as he considered the depth of Macaque's unease. Mk also noticed it and looked at Wukong with concern, clearly showing that he cared for Macaque. Mk then spoke up, saying it was him and Wukong, just as they heard a loud noise of weapons clattering to the ground from somewhere high above in his place, followed by a muttered, “Crap.”

“Don’t you have training to get to? I didn’t feel up for it today, Kid. Maybe next week.”Mk knew he was avoiding Wukong, so he scolded Macaque to get him to open the door. “Come on, Macaque! I know you’re in there! You can’t just hide away like this,” he shouted, his voice a mix of frustration and urgency. “We need to talk, and you can’t keep shutting everyone out! I know you’re tired, but at least let me in to sort this out.” Despite his stern words, Mk couldn't shake the feeling of sympathy for Macaque, who looked weary and worn from a sleepless night. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the unsettling clinks of metal weapons being picked up and shifted around. Macaque remained detached, seemingly lost in his thoughts, choosing to ignore the attempt at conversation. Sensing the growing tension, Mk took a deep breath and prepared to speak again, hoping to reach the man behind the formidable façade. 

Mk inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs as he raised his hand to the door, knocking firmly once more. The sound resonated softly through the stillness of the hallway, a solitary echo amidst the quiet. After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, the door creaked open slowly, revealing Macaque standing in the frame. His expression was palpable annoyance; his brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at Mk. The irritation was evident on his face, as if the mere thought of facing Wukong’s familiar, with all its infuriating traits, had worn thin his patience.

“I’m not talking to him.”

He was, of course, referring to Wukong. Mk groaned and then began to plead, “Come on! Just talk to him! Think about how you worked together for the Lady Bone Demon and the ink scrolls. I know you both care more than you want to admit, and you miss each other—you miss the friendship! Just talk it out for once!” Wukong shifted uncomfortably, glancing around with anxious eyes as he stood in the shadow of Mk, his heart racing. The air was thick with tension, and he felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, starkly contrasting with Mk's confident stance. As Mk continued, Macaque had enough. 

“Well, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, I haven’t slept, so I’m timing it. Come in.” Mk stayed outside and walked to the side, revealing the nervous wreck of the Monkey King. The door closed from behind Wukong when he nervously walked in. Wukong hated how it felt as if he had been “caught” reading the letter at this very moment. 

“I know you read that letter. Your impulsiveness couldn’t help it. Now get what you want to say out and leave.”

What Wukong said next surprised them both.

[atlasthegreatest]

Bound by the Distance Between Us / Anh Yujin x Gender Neutral! Reader

Which, Ahn Yujin grapples with her intense feelings for her new manager. Despite their mutual attraction, they struggle to act on their emotions due to the complexities of their professional relationship.

Warning: soft angst

Word count: 5529

The room was dimly lit as if the lights knew how heavy the air felt between them. Ahn Yujin sat on the couch in her dorm, hands clasped tightly between her knees, her mind spiraling. Her thoughts, usually sharp and controlled as IVE’s leader, now swam in disarray. Across from her stood the one person she wanted more than anything— Kang Y/n— her new manager, standing just far enough away to keep things professional.

Their eyes met in fleeting glances that betrayed too much. Yujin bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something dangerous.

“It’s late,” Y/n said softly, their voice low and cautious. “You need to rest, Yujin.”

Rest. A hollow word. How could she rest when the one person who made her feel alive was the same one she couldn’t touch, couldn’t have? Yujin forced a smile, but it wavered. “You always say that,” she whispered, her voice cracking at the edges.

“I mean it.” The manager crossed their arms, a defensive gesture that seemed more like an attempt to protect themselves than her. “You’ve been pushing too hard. You know how important it is to keep things in line… not just for yourself, but for everyone.”

It was always like this. Practicality over desire. Rules before feelings. But Yujin was exhausted from always doing the right thing—smiling in front of cameras, leading her team with precision, and pretending that her heart didn’t ache every time Y/n looked at her as if they belonged somewhere else, somewhere out of reach.

“This is impossible, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice barely audible. She didn’t need to say what this was. They both knew.

Y/n exhaled deeply, shoulders sagging under the weight of their shared, unspoken truth. “Yujin… we both knew from the start that we couldn’t go there.”

“And yet we’re here.” Her gaze lingered on them, on the way their lips pressed into a line like they were holding something back—words, emotions, promises that couldn’t be kept.

“It’s not fair,” she said bitterly, her hands clenching into fists. “We can’t be anything, but I can’t stop—” She stopped herself just short of saying love you. Saying it would only make it worse, make it more real. And they didn’t have space for real between them.

Y/n took a step closer, enough that Yujin could feel the heat radiating from them but not enough to bridge the chasm that separated them. “Do you think this is easy for me?” they whispered, their voice strained. “Every day, I tell myself I can’t feel this way about you, that I need to stay professional. But you—”

Yujin blinked, tears welling in her eyes despite her best efforts to suppress them. “Then why don’t we just—”

“We can’t,” they interrupted, harsh but pained. “You know why. If anyone finds out… your career, the group’s reputation, everything—”

“I don’t care about that!” she burst out, her voice cracking. “For once, can’t I just—”

“No, Yujin.” Y/n’s voice was soft now, like a plea. “You care. I know you do. And that’s why we have to stop this before it gets worse.”

Yujin looked away, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from falling. Her whole life had been about discipline, about giving herself to her dreams. But no one had warned her how much it would hurt to want something—someone—she could never have.

“Do you ever think about it?” she whispered. “About what it’d be like if things were different?”

There was silence, heavy and suffocating. Y/n’s hesitation was answer enough. Of course they thought about it. Of course they dreamed of a world where they could be together—where there were no cameras, no contracts, no rules to keep them apart. But that world didn’t exist. Not for them.

“Every day,” Y/n admitted, at last, their voice thick with regret. “But wanting something doesn’t make it right.”

The weight of those words crushed Yujin. She closed her eyes as if she could will herself to disappear, to escape the cruel reality they were trapped in. “So what now?” she asked, her voice hollow.

“Now…” They exhaled shakily, as if saying the words would hurt as much as living them. “We go back to pretending. We keep things the way they need to be.”

The silence stretched between them like a wound that wouldn’t heal. Yujin knew this was the end—or at least the closest thing to an ending they’d ever get. No fights, no dramatic confessions. Just quiet, aching resignation.

She stood up slowly, her body feeling heavier than it ever had before. “Okay,” she whispered. It was the only word she could muster. The only thing she could say without falling apart.

The manager looked at her one last time, their gaze lingering on her like a farewell they couldn’t voice. Then, without another word, Y/n turned and walked away, leaving Yujin standing in the dimly lit room, alone with the ache they’d both tried so hard to ignore.

She sank back onto the couch, burying her face in her hands as the first tear slipped free. In another life, maybe they could have been something more. But in this one, they were nothing.

Nothing but two people in love, trapped by the distance between them.

————————

The uneasy dynamic between Yujin and Y/n didn’t take long to catch the attention of the other members. Living in such close quarters, there were no secrets that could stay hidden for long. Even if Yujin thought she was masking her emotions, her girls knew her too well. And now, the air between their leader and their manager felt charged, as if every glance, every silence, was trying to conceal something that was bound to slip through.

It started small—little things only someone close would notice. Yujin’s shoulders stiffened every time the manager entered the room. The way her voice, usually confident and steady, faltered when speaking to them. The way Y/n’s gaze lingered on Yujin a beat too long like they were holding on to every second before they had to look away.

And the girls noticed. Of course, they did.

“Unnie, are you okay?” Wonyoung’s voice was light, but her eyes were sharp as she studied Yujin across the van’s seats. They were on their way to a photo shoot, and Yujin sat at the back, earphones in, staring blankly out the window. She hadn’t spoken much since their manager gave the usual rundown of the schedule earlier—avoiding eye contact with them entirely.

Yujin blinked, snapping out of her trance. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Wonyoung wasn’t convinced. “You’ve been… weird lately.”

Beside her, Leeseo chimed in, tilting her head. “Yeah, like, tense. And it’s not just because of the schedule.”

Yujin opened her mouth to dismiss it, but Gaeul gave her a knowing glance from the seat ahead. “Is it the new manager?” she asked bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

Yujin’s heart stuttered. “What?” she said, too quickly. “No. Why would it be about them?”

The van fell into silence, save for the low hum of the road beneath them. Liz, who had been scrolling on her phone, finally spoke without looking up. “Because you act like a lovesick puppy around them,” she said casually as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Yujin’s cheeks flushed. “I—what? I do not.”

Gaeul raised an eyebrow. “You do. You get all quiet, and then you avoid eye contact, but you still stare at them when you think no one’s looking.”

The leader groaned and pressed her palms against her face, heat rising to her ears. “You guys are reading into things too much.”

“No, we’re not,” Rei said from the front seat, twisting around to face Yujin. “We know you, unnie. You’ve been acting strange since they showed up.”

Yujin wanted to disappear. Of course, her members would notice—she should have known better. But hearing them say it out loud only made the ache in her chest worse.

Wonyoung leaned in, her voice softer now. “Do you… like them?”

Yujin hesitated, her walls cracking under the weight of her feelings. But even if she wanted to deny it, she knew it would be pointless. These girls were her second family—they knew when she was lying.

“It doesn’t matter,” Yujin muttered, slumping against the window. “Even if I did, nothing can happen.”

There was a beat of silence before Leeseo whispered, “Why not, unnie? Don’t they like you back?”

Yujin’s throat tightened. She could feel all their eyes on her, waiting for an answer.

“They do,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But we can’t.”

The weight of those words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, no one knew what to say.

——-———————

Backstage at the photo shoot, the tension only worsened. As the girls prepared for their solo shots, Yujin caught sight of Y/n standing by the doorway, scrolling through their phone. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Just looking at them was like pressing on a bruise—one she couldn’t stop poking, even though it hurt.

Her gaze lingered too long, and when Y/n glanced up, their eyes locked. Yujin’s breath hitched, and she looked away quickly, but the damage was already done.

Wonyoung, standing nearby, caught the entire exchange. She crossed her arms, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re not exactly subtle, unnie.”

Yujin shot her a withering glare. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell the truth?” Wonyoung grinned, clearly enjoying Yujin’s discomfort. But then her expression softened, and she nudged Yujin’s shoulder. “You know we’re not judging you, right? It’s just… we worry about you.”

Gaeul appeared behind them, her voice low enough that only Yujin could hear. “It must suck,” she said gently. “Liking someone you can’t be with.”

Yujin clenched her jaw to keep the tears from welling up again. “It does,” she whispered. “A lot.”

By the end of the day, Yujin was emotionally drained. She tried to put on a brave face, but the weight of her emotions was getting harder to carry. It felt like she was stuck in a cruel cycle—forced to see the person she wanted every day, only to be reminded that they could never be more than what they already were.

As the members gathered in the van to head back to the dorm, Y/n stood by the door, doing a headcount. Yujin forced herself to stay composed, even though her heart was in pieces.

“Yujin,” they said softly, their voice just loud enough for her to hear over the noise of the others. “Are you okay?”

She looked at them, her gaze heavy with everything she couldn’t say. “Yeah,” she lied.

Y/n didn’t believe her. She could see it in the way their eyes softened, in the way their hand twitched slightly as if they wanted to reach for her but knew they couldn’t.

“Take care of yourself,” they murmured.

Yujin nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay. “You too.”

Later that night, as the members settled into their rooms, Wonyoung lingered by Yujin’s door. “Unnie,” she called softly.

Yujin looked up from her bed, her heart heavy.

“We’re here for you,” Wonyoung whispered. “Even if you can’t talk about it… we know.”

Yujin gave her a small, grateful smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Wonyoung lingered for a moment longer as if trying to say something more, but in the end, she just gave Yujin’s hand a gentle squeeze before retreating to her room.

When the dorm finally fell silent, Yujin lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The weight of her feelings pressed down on her chest like a storm she couldn’t escape. And even though she knew she wasn’t alone, it didn’t make the ache any easier to bear.

Some things were too complicated, too painful to explain—especially love. And this love, the one she wasn’t allowed to have, was the kind that would haunt her for a long, long time.

——-———————

Yujin hadn’t spoken with Y/n for weeks. Not outside of work, at least. They communicated only through the essentials—brief nods, impersonal messages, schedule updates. Every interaction was clinical like they’d both agreed that pretending nothing existed between them was the only way to survive. But the distance was killing her, and if the dark circles under her eyes were anything to go by, it was killing them too.

Tonight was different. Yujin could feel it in her bones.

It was almost midnight when she stood outside their apartment door, heart racing in her chest. She shouldn’t be here, not after everything they’d tried to avoid. But she was done pretending—done acting like ignoring her feelings would somehow make them disappear.

Her hand trembled as she raised it to knock. For a moment, she hesitated, breathing in deeply. Just go. Leave. It’s easier this way. But she was already too far gone to turn back.

The door opened before she could decide, and there they were—Y/n, wearing an old hoodie and sweatpants, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her.

“Yujin?” they whispered, as if saying her name might shatter the fragile moment between them.

She swallowed hard, clenching her fists to keep them steady. “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I tried, but I can’t.”

Y/n’s expression softened, the exhaustion and longing Yujin had seen glimpses of over the past weeks now fully exposed. “I know,” they admitted quietly. “Neither can I.”

Inside, the air between them was thick with unspoken words as they sat together on the edge of the couch, knees brushing against each other. Yujin fiddled with the hem of her hoodie, gathering the courage to say what she’d buried deep inside.

“I thought,” she began slowly, “that staying away from you would help. That maybe if I just… ignored it, it would hurt less.”

Y/n nodded, their gaze dropping to their hands, fingers fidgeting restlessly. “Me too. But it didn’t.”

“It just made it worse,” Yujin admitted, her voice a little more than a whisper.

Y/n’s hand twitched at their side, and without thinking, Yujin reached over and intertwined their fingers with hers. The contact was electric—simple, yet overwhelming. It was the first real touch they’d allowed themselves, and it hit them both like a wave.

They both stared at their joined hands, breathing in the reality of what they were doing. It felt reckless, dangerous even. But it also felt like a relief, like a burden finally lifting after weeks of suffocating under the weight of unspoken emotions.

“I know this is a bad idea,” Yujin whispered. “But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel anything.”

Y/n squeezed her hand gently, and when they looked up, Yujin saw the same raw vulnerability in their eyes that mirrored her own. “Maybe it is a bad idea,” they said softly, “but I don’t care anymore.”

Yujin’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. “So… what do we do?”

Y/n was quiet for a moment as if weighing the consequences of what they were about to say. Then, slowly, they leaned in, their forehead resting gently against hers.

“We take it one step at a time,” they whispered. “Carefully. Quietly.”

Yujin closed her eyes, savoring the closeness, the warmth of their breath against her skin. For the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in her chest eased—just a little.

They spent the night sitting close, whispering about nothing and everything. It wasn’t much—no grand confessions or promises they couldn’t keep—but it was enough for now.

Yujin knew their love was fragile, like walking on a tightrope with no safety net. They were still bound by contracts and rules, still stuck in a world that wouldn’t allow them to exist together openly. But tonight, none of that mattered.

In the quiet moments, when the world was asleep and no one was watching, they could steal these small, precious pieces of happiness.

And for now, that was enough.

——-———————

Days passed in a blur after that night, but everything felt different now—lighter, even in the smallest ways. They didn’t talk about it, not in words that spelled out the risks. They didn’t need to. What they had was delicate, existing in the cracks between their responsibilities and the life they had to present to the public. But the tension that once felt unbearable was now replaced with quiet understanding. They were careful, but they allowed themselves to feel just enough.

Yujin could feel the difference every time their eyes met across crowded rooms. When Y/n adjusted her microphone before a stage, their fingertips would brush her hand just slightly, lingering for the briefest moment. When schedules ran late and she grew tired, they’d hand her water with a small, knowing smile—a look that told her, I see you. I’m here.

It wasn’t much. But it was everything.

One evening, after a long rehearsal, the girls sprawled across the practice room floor, their exhaustion palpable. Yujin sat quietly in the corner, a towel draped over her neck, scrolling through her phone to avoid too many curious eyes.

The members hadn’t said anything directly, but Yujin knew they were watching. Wonyoung, in particular, had taken it upon herself to keep an eye on every little change between Yujin and their manager. She never pushed too hard—just enough teasing to make Yujin squirm—but it was clear she’d caught on to the shift between them.

“Unnie,” Wonyoung whispered, sliding beside her, voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “You seem… less miserable these days.”

Yujin shot her a side-eye. “Thanks?”

Wonyoung smirked knowingly. “Did something happen?”

Yujin’s heart stuttered for a moment. She thought about denying it—telling Wonyoung that nothing had changed, that she was just better at pretending. But she knew the younger girl wouldn’t believe her.

“Things are complicated,” Yujin admitted quietly, more to herself than to Wonyoung.

The younger girl tilted her head, her playful expression softening. “But you’re happy?”

Yujin hesitated, and then she gave the smallest nod. “I think so.”

Wonyoung smiled, nudging her shoulder. “Good. You deserve to be happy, unnie. Even if it’s complicated.”

The hardest part was sneaking away when no one was looking. They didn’t meet often—only when the schedule allowed them slivers of privacy. But those stolen moments felt like lifelines, keeping them both afloat in a world where they were expected to drown their emotions.

Late one night, after a performance, Yujin found herself slipping through the hallways of the venue, heart racing. Y/n had texted her only once: Room 206. 10 minutes. That was all she needed.

When she pushed the door open, they were already there, waiting—arms crossed, shoulders tense. The exhaustion from the long day was evident in their eyes, but the moment they saw her, they softened.

Yujin closed the door quietly, leaning against it for a moment to catch her breath. “I thought I wouldn’t make it,” she whispered.

Y/n gave her a tired smile, stepping closer until they were only inches apart. “You always find a way.”

The words were simple, but they carried weight. Yujin felt it—how much they both sacrificed just for these brief moments together. She knew the risks they were taking. If anyone found out, it wouldn’t just be her career on the line—it would be theirs too.

But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, they were just two people trying to hold on to something fragile but real.

Without thinking, Yujin reached for them, wrapping her arms around their waist and burying her face against their shoulder. Y/n’s arms came around her in return, pulling her closer, tighter, as if holding her like this could make the world disappear.

They stood there in silence, the sound of their breathing the only thing grounding them. Yujin felt her heart slow, her mind quieting for the first time in days. She wished she could stay here forever, in this bubble where the outside world didn’t exist.

“I missed you,” she whispered against their skin, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Y/n’s hand traced slow circles on her back, a silent reassurance. “I missed you too.”

It was dangerous—this thing between them. It was reckless and foolish, and it could fall apart at any moment. But it was also the only thing that felt real in a life full of performances and expectations.

They pulled back slightly, just enough to look into each other’s eyes. Yujin could see it there—the same fear, the same longing. They were both terrified of what this could become, but neither of them wanted to let go.

“What are we doing?” she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Y/n smiled, a little sad, a little hopeful. “I don’t know. But I know I don’t want to stop.”

Yujin felt her chest tighten, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. This wasn’t a fairytale—it wasn’t easy or perfect. But it was theirs. And for now, that was enough.

They leaned in slowly, tentatively, as if crossing this line could change everything. And when their lips finally met, it was gentle and desperate all at once—a kiss that spoke of every moment they’d held back, every stolen glance and unspoken word.

It was a kiss that promised nothing but the present. And for now, that was all they had.

Later, as they sat together on the couch, legs tangled under a shared blanket, Yujin rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace.

“Do you think this can last?” she whispered, not sure if she wanted an answer.

Y/n pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I don’t know,” they murmured. “But I think we’ll find a way.”

Yujin smiled softly, her heart full despite the uncertainty. For once, she wasn’t thinking about tomorrow or the risks waiting for them.

Right now, they had each other. And for now, that was enough.

Bonus Chapter:

It was a stolen moment—one of the many they had learned to carve out between hectic schedules and late-night rehearsals. Yujin and Y/n stood tucked away in a dim corner backstage, hidden behind a row of costume racks. It wasn’t much, but it was the only privacy they could find before the concert began.

The sound of muffled voices and equipment clattering filled the background, but Yujin couldn’t hear any of it. Not when Y/n’s hands were on her waist, their breath warm against her lips. For a second, everything beyond them ceased to exist.

“Five more minutes,” Y/n whispered between kisses, as if saying it aloud could slow down time.

Yujin smiled, her forehead resting against theirs. “Five more minutes, and then we’re back to pretending again.”

They didn’t say anything—just pulled her closer, and Yujin let herself sink into the moment. Every kiss felt like a rebellion, a small act of defiance against a world that told them they couldn’t be together.

She was just about to lean in again when—

“WHAT. THE. HELL?”

The voice rang out like a gunshot, startling them both. Yujin jerked away, her heart plummeting to her stomach. They turned to see four stunned members of IVE—Wonyoung, Liz, Rei, and Leeseo—standing a few feet away, their mouths agape. Gaeul trailed behind, looking more amused than shocked.

Yujin’s brain short-circuited.

“Oh my God,” Wonyoung whispered, wide-eyed. “You’re kissing our manager.”

Yujin opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Y/n, who looked equally horrified, stepped back awkwardly as if increasing the space between them would undo what the members had just seen.

Liz crossed her arms, her face a perfect mix of disbelief and amusement. “I knew it. I KNEW something was going on!”

Rei blinked, trying to process what she had just witnessed. “I thought… I mean, I suspected, but I didn’t think you’d actually…”

“Wow,” Leeseo breathed, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe her own eyes. “This is so… scandalous.”

Yujin buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. “This is not how you were supposed to find out.”

Gaeul snorted, leaning casually against the wall. “Well, how were we supposed to find out, exactly? Were you going to send us a memo or…?”

Yujin glared at her. “Not. Helping.”

Y/n, trying and failing to look professional, cleared their throat. “This… isn’t what it looks like.”

Wonyoung crossed her arms. “You were literally kissing. What else could it possibly be?”

Silence stretched between them, awkward and heavy. Yujin knew there was no way out of this. She could feel her members’ eyes boring into her, each of them processing the situation in their chaotic way.

“Well,” Liz said finally, raising an eyebrow. “I guess we can’t exactly judge. I mean, you’re both adults.”

Rei nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, and you’ve clearly been miserable without each other, so…”

Wonyoung gave Yujin a teasing grin. “This is actually kind of cute. In a weird, slightly inappropriate way.”

Leeseo clapped her hands excitedly. “Does this mean you’re, like, secretly dating? Like in a K-drama?”

Yujin groaned again, feeling like she was being swallowed whole by embarrassment. “Can you guys stop?”

But the teasing only continued. Rei and Wonyoung exchanged amused glances, while Liz dramatically placed a hand over her heart, pretending to swoon. Even Leeseo, who usually tried to act mature, was giggling uncontrollably.

Y/n leaned in, whispering so only Yujin could hear. “This might actually be worse than getting caught by the company.”

Yujin gave them a withering look, though the corner of her mouth twitched with a reluctant smile. “You think?”

Gaeul clapped her hands, cutting through the chaos. “Alright, alright. Let’s not overwhelm our poor leader.” She turned to Yujin, her expression softening slightly. “But seriously, be careful, okay? If anyone else catches you, it won’t just be awkward—it’ll be bad.”

Yujin exhaled, the weight of her friend’s words sinking in. She knew the risks all too well. But the gentle reassurance in Gaeul’s voice made her heart feel a little lighter.

“We will,” Yujin promised quietly.

Satisfied, the girls began to disperse, though not without a few more teasing comments. Wonyoung gave Yujin a playful wink as she walked away, and Liz mouthed, Good luck with a mischievous grin.

As the members finally left, Yujin turned back to Y/n, who looked both relieved and exasperated.

“Well,” Yujin muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “That could’ve gone worse.”

Y/n chuckled, pulling her into a quick hug. “At least they took it better than I expected.”

Yujin smiled against their shoulder, the warmth of their embrace easing some of the tension in her chest. “Yeah,” she whispered. “But next time, let’s really make sure no one’s around.”

Y/n laughed softly, their hand brushing through her hair. “Deal.”

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet, savoring the small pocket of peace before reality came crashing back in.

——-———————

The next few days after the incident felt surreal, like walking on a tightrope with everyone watching. The other girls hadn’t mentioned the kiss to anyone else—thankfully—but the teasing didn’t stop when they were together. Every subtle glance between Yujin and Y/n was met with knowing smirks, sly comments, and the occasional exaggerated cough from Wonyoung or Liz.

The situation felt both manageable and impossible—manageable because the girls had her back, impossible because it was only a matter of time before they slipped again.

Yujin sat on the dorm balcony late one night, the cold air brushing against her skin as she stared out at the glittering city. Y/n hadn’t messaged all day, and it gnawed at her. Even though she knew they were just being careful, the distance felt unbearable. The weight of their secret seemed to grow heavier by the second.

The glass door behind her slid open, and Gaeul stepped out, joining her without a word. She sat down quietly, pulling her knees to her chest, giving Yujin space to speak first.

Yujin exhaled a shaky breath. “It feels like everything’s going to fall apart, unnie.”

Gaeul glanced sideways at her, her gaze steady and full of quiet understanding. “It won’t,” she said softly. “Not if you’re careful.”

Yujin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know how long I can keep this up. Hiding, pretending…” She swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “It feels like I’m suffocating.”

Gaeul leaned her head back against the balcony railing, her breath visible in the cold night air. “You love them, don’t you?”

Yujin hesitated, the truth heavy on her tongue. But there was no point denying it. Not to Gaeul, not to herself.

“Yeah,” Yujin whispered. “I do.”

The next morning, Yujin found herself standing outside Y/n’s office at the company building, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew this was a risk—a terrible idea, even. But she needed to talk to them, to figure out where they stood and whether they could keep going.

She knocked softly, and the door opened almost instantly. Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly stepped aside to let her in.

“Yujin—”

“I can’t keep doing this,” Yujin blurted, her voice trembling. “I can’t keep sneaking around and pretending like nothing’s happening.”

Y/n’s expression softened, and they reached out, gently taking her hand. “I know. I’ve been feeling the same.”

Yujin’s chest tightened. “Then what do we do? Because if we keep this up… we’re going to get caught.”

Y/n was quiet for a moment, their thumb brushing softly over the back of her hand. “I don’t want to lose you,” they whispered. “But I also don’t want to ruin everything you’ve worked for.”

The weight of Y/n’s words settled between them, thick and suffocating. Yujin knew the truth—they both did. No matter how much they wanted this, the world they lived in wouldn’t make room for it.

“I wish things were different,” Yujin whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the truth.

“So do I,” they murmured. “But if we’re going to do this… we have to be even more careful. No more close calls.”

Yujin nodded, though the ache in her chest didn’t lessen. It felt like they were trying to hold water in their hands, knowing it would slip through their fingers eventually.

“We can’t let them see,” her manager added gently, squeezing her hand. “Not again.”

——-———————

That night, the IVE girls sat around the dorm’s living room, the atmosphere light with conversation—until Wonyoung decided to stir the pot.

“So, unnie,” she began with a grin, “how’s your secret romance going?”

Yujin shot her a warning look. “Wonyoung.”

Liz leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “C’mon, Yujin. You know we’re all curious.”

Rei smirked. “Have you kissed again?”

Yujin groaned, burying her face in a pillow. “You guys are impossible.”

Leeseo giggled, kicking her feet against the couch. “We’re just looking out for you, unnie! It’s sweet.”

“Sweet,” Yujin muttered into the pillow, “is not how it feels right now.”

Gaeul, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke up. “Enough,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “She’s under enough pressure already.”

The room quieted, the playful atmosphere shifting into something more serious.

Yujin sat up slowly, her expression softening. “I know you guys are just teasing… but it’s hard.” She glanced down at her hands. “I don’t know how long I can keep this going without breaking.”

The girls exchanged glances, the weight of Yujin’s words sinking in.

Wonyoung scooted closer, resting a hand on Yujin’s knee. “We’ve got your back, unnie. Whatever happens, we’ll help you.”

Liz nodded. “Yeah. If you need us to cover for you, just say the word.”

Rei gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re not alone in this, okay?”

Leeseo added, “And if things get too hard… it’s okay to take a step back.”

Yujin felt a lump rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down, grateful beyond words.

Gaeul reached over, squeezing Yujin’s hand briefly. “We’ll figure it out, Yujin. Whatever happens, we’re with you.”

Later that night, Yujin lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of her choices pressed down on her. It was exhausting—loving someone in secret, balancing her career, and carrying the fear of losing everything she’d built.

But for now, she had the support of her members. And she had the person she loved, even if it was complicated.

Yujin closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. Whatever happened next, she knew one thing for sure.

She wasn’t ready to let go—not yet.

And for now, that was enough.

[hookedsworks]

HOOKEDHOBBIES KINKTOBER 2024

Day 7: Bruising or Bitemarks // Virgin // Ice Play (<- psst if you want ice play it's back in day 1)

Word count: 1042

Masterpost

SLEEP TOKEN FANFICTION

CW/TW: pushy/dark!IV is back, bitchy!Vessel, emotional support!II, first time doing anal (it counts as virgin, I've just decided), bruising/biting/sucking, "excessive" lube use

“When are you gonna let me take you, huh?” IV grinned at Vessel when he walked into the den. He was playing a game, lounging and thinking about finally being able to fuck Vessel. Vessel had always been so nervous, so skittish about penetration. IV wished he'd just try it, just to see, just to learn exactly how good it is. He turned his big baby eyes on IV, wider than a deer in headlights. “I'd make it good, you know?” 

“It’s gonna hurt,” Vessel shook his head. IV paused his game and stood up. He wrapped his arms around Vessel and squeezed lightly. 

“You think I’d hurt you, baby? Let me try. You got anything you’re doing today? I could take you apart right now,” IV grinned up at Vessel, who he saw melting. “You know, even if you don’t actually want to, if nothing else I’ll make you feel good,” he kept pushing, murmuring things to Vessel and tugging his earlobe with his teeth. 

“I-uh-ah-okay fine!” Vessel caved as IV insisted and murmured and licked at his neck. IV grabbed his hand and hauled Vessel to his bedroom. “C-can II be here?” 

“I can’t have you all to myself, hm?” 

“M’scared,” IV hid his look of disappointment - he wanted to take Vessel’s remaining virginity all for himself. 

“Alright, fine. He can hold your hand and everything. II!” he then shouted across the house. II came bounding in like a cute little deer. 

“What’s up?” 

“Vessel is going to let me try to take him, but he wants you to hold his hand while I do it,” II barked out a laugh, but then he saw Vessel’s face. 

“Oh, hun, you’re really scared? IV will be good to you. I’ll come with you,” they all traipsed off to IV’s bedroom then. 

Vessel was naked and panting. IV had kissed and licked and bitten every part of Vessel until he was begging to cum. 

“You think he’s ready?” IV murmured to II, who was watching everything with his cock in his hand. II nodded. IV grabbed Vessel’s hips and flipped him over. II grabbed Vessel’s hand then and squeezed it. 

“You say something if it gets to be too much, okay?” Vessel nodded, desperate and probably on the edge of tears. IV warmed some lube on his fingers and then delicately touched Vessel. Vessel, as expected, flinched. He slid his fingers down to Vessel’s hole and spread lube around it. “See, that’s not so bad is it?” II kissed Vessel’s neck then. And then, because he could tell IV had left hickies over every other inch of Vessel, he sucked a dark hickey right under Vessel’s jawbone. IV inhaled hard through his teeth and stopped himself from taking Vessel then and there. He couldn’t help it - he wanted to make Vessel cry. He slowly worked his index finger inside of Vessel. Vessel hissed and whined. 

“Are you using any lube?” he had such a bitchy tone, IV needed to sass him right back. IV withdrew his index finger and grabbed the whole bottle of lube. He drizzled icy lube between Vessel’s cheeks, making him whine again. “Goddammit, IV,” 

“Breathe for me,” was all IV said in response as he worked his index finger into Vessel. He got his index finger all the way in without further complaint, and then withdrew it mostly. He got more lube on his finger, and then tried to sneak his middle finger in with his index. He went slowly, but Vessel whined regardless. 

“That feels bigger, I swear, did you add another finger already?” IV ignored him. He knew that if Vessel just felt for a second, then he’d start to enjoy it. IV searched for a second with his index finger. A long, desperate whine jumped out of Vessel then, and IV knew he’d found his prostate. 

“There we go, isn’t that better,” he didn’t think he actually cared if it was better. He was finally two fingers deep in his bitchy boy. The tight heat would be everything on his cock later. And it would be today, he knew it. He wasn’t letting Vessel leave without getting IV’s dick in him. He tortured Vessel’s prostate until he came. That had not been IV’s intention, but then he figured that getting an orgasm out of Vessel would relax him. Once Vessel came down, he turned back and bitched at IV. 

“I just washed my sheets, IV!” IV still had two fingers inside of Vessel. He worked a third in with little warning or gentleness. Vessel threw his head back then, and… pushed against IV’s fingers. 

“You like it now?” he asked, feeling Vessel kind of fuck himself on IV’s fingers. 

“I-I don’t-m’not sure,” Vessel mumbled, after realizing he had pushed IV’s fingers further into him. II was staring at both of them, wide eyed. He nodded at IV then. IV raised an eyebrow at him, but took the meaning all the same. IV settled then, cockhead at Vessel’s ass. He leaned up, and sunk his teeth into Vessel’s neck, opposite II’s softer hickey. 

“No, stop…” he moved his hands up to IV’s shoulders, pushing him off of his neck. IV didn’t budge, sucking a bruise into the spot under Vessel’s ear, grunting.

“You’re mine now,” and with that, he pushed inside of Vessel. He paused for a second, the tightness pushing him toward a breaking point already. “Finally,” he groaned. He’d just barely gotten his cockhead inside. He didn’t want to fuck up and cum now. He wanted to get at least half of his dick inside. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Vessel was making these adorable little noises, whining and groaning about IV being in him. IV pushed further, and Vessel clenched so hard he thought his dick was going to snap off inside of Vessel. It was too much. He came. IV’s cum was hot and strange and foreign inside of Vessel. The heat was… he never thought he’d like this. But IV had taken his last virginity and he hadn’t totally hated it. 

Later, Vessel looked in the mirror and screamed. IV had left a million marks on him. He stalked out to the den and chucked a hairbrush at IV, shouting “how dare you!” with angry tears in his eyes.

II stared after Vessel, shocked by his outburst. IV just laughed.

[xr0tt3nxfl3shx]

👁💊My Medicine is underdeveloped and my Amygdala won't work.💉👁

Twomp[AU] fanfiction + art !! Pertains to the events in this post. [No beta we die.]

⚠️‼️TW: VOMITING / OVERDOSE / SUICIDAL IDEATION / UNREALITY / CORRUPT MENTAL HEALTH SYSTEM / GENERAL MENTAL ILLNESS THEMES‼️⚠️

A/N: i didnt wanna mention it tbh but just in case, ive been down the chemical consumption road 3 times, an i mention because i know the internet has opinions on mental illness in writing. But ive been there myself. All up close and personal like. so i think i can speak on it (dont castrate me)

POV: 👁Argos👁

I scratch at my skin in the dark of my room as if that'll hold in the tears from spilling over my burning red cheeks. The feeling of rage and overwhelming depression clash within me, and leave me to switch every few minutes between cursing the name of every therapist who ever told me that "I'm not even trying to get better" and crying over the idea that they might be right.

My heartbeat is so vigorous that it feels like at any moment the tendons will tear away and my heart will burst in my ribs. How could anyone say that to me? I seethe and hiss through my gritting teeth. Why can't I get better? I cry enough to fill an ocean and nearly drown in my tears.

I should be able to control all of this by now, I'm not a child. Yet, I can't stop thinking about putting the heads of those who hurt me on a platter. Or banging my head on my bedroom wall hard enough to dull the heartbreak. My eyes are running dry from all the tears, I've been at this for a while. My head is pounding from the adrenaline. All reasonable thoughts are drowned out, with intrusive and irrational ones taking the place of my internal voice of reason.

I can make it better, I can make this better. I just need to try a little harder! Just.. go a little further. These feelings, it's just a chemical imbalance right?

I'm running out of options, types of therapy, pills, at this point I might as well just get a lobotomy. I'm sure my therapist would like that.

There's still time to make this right. I don't have to end my life to end my suffering right?

I can prove them wrong. I will prove them wrong. It's just a chemical imbalance. I just need to fix it.

I rummage through the medicine cabinet above my bathroom sink, overlooking the blood crusting around the drain. There has to be something in here that can make my head stop pounding or my thoughts quiet down if not for just a little while. Maybe everything all at once? Yeah that should do!

Laid out in front of me on the cold tiled floor of my bathroom are various pill bottles. The amount of pills actually in them is varied, they like to switch my meds every other week it seems. I try to be hasty with this, pouring out a small handful of gel capsules into my hand. Each one smooth, glossy, and slightly cool to the touch.

You know, I've been here before, and typically there's some survival instinct in me, paralyzing my hands before I can do any damage. But all I can feel is anguish. And anger. And there's no more room for self preservation in me.

I take my first dose before I can come down from my emotion fueled adrenaline rush. Quickly now don't let the self preservation come back. I take my next dose of a new pill type, a tablet. It was a bad idea doing this dry but oh well!

Before I know it I'm slumped against my bathroom door, unable to continue my self medication on account of the mounds of pills I dry swallowed having begun triggering my gag reflex. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious about this, but it had to be done. My therapist is always urging me to take steps in the right direction!

(Though admittedly he never mentioned which direction is the right one.)

I make it back to my bed, dragging my feet and leaning on the wall for support the whole way. It's not even five minutes in when I start to feel the effects. I probably should've eaten before taking my pills like the instructions say.

This is different though, I feel my connection to reality slip right through my jittery fingers. Like the shadows in my room are divulging their presence. Like they are reaching out their hands, ready to take hold of me, pull me in and make me one with unreality. An emptiness overcomes me, something I've truly never felt before. And it's the strangest thing, because simultaneously I've never felt more alive in my life.

Everything is really funny, I've never noticed how funny everything is up until now. Every little unorganized thought that pops up in my foggy, spacing-out head manages to get a strained laugh out of me.

Visual snow floods my peripheral, the colors of the world begin to become one with the static in my eyes.

Ah, I remembered what I was going to do in here. I need to call Mr. Plant. I need him to know that I'm going to get better, and how much I love him of course. Oh he'll never understand just how much I love him! I love him to death, haha! Literally.

I dial in the number. Moving has proven difficult, like trying to control a vehicle while tired and out of it, or in my case trying to control a vehicle through the most debilitating brain fog I've ever experienced. The disconnection from body and thought is almost calming.

The ringing of the phone is such a funny thing as well. I could lose myself in the methodical rhythm and loose vibrations running up my hands- oh look here he's answered!

"M‐r… plant! I ha-ve.. s o me thi.. ng to tell you."

I am fighting to get the words out. The weak sounds I manage to get out of my raspy throat come out in uneven tones with jarring stutters. Why is it so hard to speak?

"I took.. a lot o-f... my me-ds. Ha-ha!" He hangs up immediately.

Is he not happy for me? It wasn't long before I heard sirens closing in. Did he call the cops on me? That's no fair, no fair at all.

I've never been rolled into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher before but there's a first time for everything I suppose. It's too bad I'm too out of it to really experience it.

In the ambulance is when the first wave of nausea hits. I could barely even feel the EMT insert the IV or hear when they asked me questions.

———

The heart palpitations do their diligence distracting from the perforations left in my arm from the injections of various medications and the IV drip.

My respiration is just as irregular as my heart's chemical damaged rhythm. I feel like I'm drowning in this heavy air and it feels like the knots in my stomach have spread to my heart. This pain is so unbearable that I feel the need to crave it out of myself with a blade.

The world is doubling- no tripling, blurring, and mushing together all at once. I can feel the hum of the fluorescent hospital light buzz through my head. The scent of rubbing alcohol and sterilized equipment is evident throughout the cold medical facility.

By my own hands I've made my body a place unsuitable for living. I've "almost drugged myself to an early grave" as the hospital staff keep reminding me.

Speaking of body, I can no longer tell where I end and the wires of the EKG machine begin. Neuropathy has set in and nerve sensation has dulled for the most part, except in my stomach and heart where it hurts the most of course. But me and the machines they have me hooked up to might as well be one as long as they are taking the place of my dysfunctional body systems.

When they run the EKG scan, which they do about every half hour, they ask me to stay as still as I can, but it's hard to control the shaking when I don't know where it comes from in the first place. I'm by no means cold, or if I am I really can't feel it.

Have I mentioned the shaking? The tremors? I need to grow accustomed to the flavor of raw stomach acid soon, because that's all I've been throwing up anymore. It's all that's left.

The nausea begins to build all over again, like my stomach is writhing and contorting in my torso. I can feel the knots being tied. Over the next few minutes it builds and builds, I'd do anything to stop the encroaching bile now. The nausea completely overwhelms my senses right before another round of the most violent retching I've ever experienced. Accompanied by the most awful squelching and splattering sounds as it hits the rest of vomit already resting at the bottom of the bag.

I feel like I'm nearing being turned inside out everytime it happens. And I've filled yet another vomit bag. This isn't going to stop for days as the doctor told me. I doubt I'll get the luxury of unconsciousness.

The activated charcoal they gave me to drink is like this black sludge, "slow and steady now, don't drink so fast you throw it all up but not so slow that you succumb to the consequences of your own actions." Well maybe that's not what they really said but it's how it felt. I can tell the staff are judging me, I just know it! They think I deserve this.

At least the charcoal is cherry flavored.

My many eyes dart around the clean and pristine hospital room erratically, glancing off in every direction. I don't want anyone to look at me anymore. I can't stand the buzz of the lights and I can barely bring myself to move enough to blink. Or even move enough to breathe. I am much too dizzy and light-headed to even consider standing up. I'm so dizzy I could swear I'm phasing in and out of my body. The only thing keeping my consciousness bound to this body is the unending pain ancoring me in the reality of my situation.

It's growing increasingly unbearable.

Above all else I am losing my mind trying to figure out where I went wrong tonight. These chemicals were supposed to fix all these feelings. The pills were supposed to fix me. My psychiatrists and therapists all told me that I'm sick, disordered, and all I needed was to buy a few more medicines.

It must be my fault, it must be if hundreds of milligrams of mood stabilizers can't just make it better.

Tell me, anyone tell me, why I'm so useless that I can't even help myself?

Why am I so worthless that my medicine won't work on me?

I am almost entirely suspended in unreality. The prozac, olanzapine, mirtazapine, and everything other useless drug they gave me were meant to cure me. I've tried everything!

I've done the very most I can to try and make the bad thoughts quiet down. And are the thoughts that tell me "I'd be better dead", my own thoughts, or a symptom of one of my diagnoses?

Is the reason I'm like this the same reason I don't deserve love, or do I not deserve love because I'm like this? I want to get better. I swear I really do.

So why does no one believe me?

"Sir, you have a visitor." The nurse informs me in a harsh yet hush tone.

The words barely make it through my chemical head. I'm practically catatonic in this hospital bed. But when I do process them I pray to every divine that it is who I think it is.

Red petals on the top and bottom, two yellow petals, one pink and one blue. I was right!

I can't believe he came all the way down to this void to come see me. I really thought he'd stay home. I don't think anyone or anything could possibly understand the pure desperation I feel coursing through my veins. Right alongside the saline they're using to flush my IV of course.

My boyfriend entered my hospital room, #34 I believe, I saw when they rolled me in on the stretcher. Tears well up in my dried eyes, I couldn't feel enough of anything to cry while drugged out of my head but seeing him, well, I need him more than I have ever needed anyone before.

The look on his face when he saw me is one I didn't know he was capable of, pure horror even. I must look horrible stained with my own bile in these itchy hospital scrubs. He is quick to clasp my hand in his and rub along my knuckles and the back of my palm. Through the blurred vision and tears I can't even make him out anymore but I don't need to, I just need his touch. I need it so badly.

I have no depth perception at the moment, or hand eye coordination, and again everything is quite blurry so it was mostly unintentional when I pulled him in by the sweater. He leans into me and wraps his arms under my upper back, holding me against his chest.

He's warm against me, holding me gently in a hospital bed. I can't feel much at all other than the pain, his warmth was the only other sensation I could pin down in my head. It was such a harsh contrast from how I normally see him acting.

With him so close I can't tell where he ends and I begin this time. Even in one of my most painful moments, I feel a familiar comfort in my palpitating heart. He's the only thing keeping me from going entirely mad. He has no idea what I'd give to melt into him right here right now, become an amalgamated abomination of our half hazardly bonded flesh and bone. I'm afraid I'd ruin him and all his perfection with me and all my misshapen and grotesqueness.

I am especially disgusting as of now, making him worry about me like this. Can I not be horrible for just one second? Selfish, that's it. I must be selfish. I take another go at speaking a moment after we pull away. All I can muster is an apology that comes out more like a pathetic stammer through my tears.

The way his cold gaze met mine shook me. I've never seen real tears stream down his face. He looks so... distraught. Its like he's looking right through me and simultaneously looking directly at me. And on top of everything I've never seen him sign so frantically. He rarely signs at all.

"Please don't be sorry."

…

"Don't strain your voice."

"Just stay right there, okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'll get you anything, I'd do anything for you."

I knew he cared about me, but I guess I never realized just how much. Or maybe I just forgot. How horrible am I?

Is it possible I'm actually worth something to him? Worth enough for him to call me an ambulance, worth enough for him to comfort me in the hospital bed, worth enough for him to cry over me?

Was I really worth staying with all this time?

My thoughts are interrupted by another round of retching, it seems those knots in my stomach weren't just anxiety. Mr. Plant holds my hand through it. I'm gonna be here a while, I know that. But he's here with me, and from the looks of it he isn't leaving my side anytime soon.

I'll make it out alive, not for myself, just for him. And for the possibility that maybe he needs me just as much as I need him. I wish my mind wasn't so scrambled, so I could find the words to express just how much I love him.

I love you Mr. Plant.