#it's like... okay. and you still have to wake up and go to work!

[lily-bisque]

ＷＡＹ ＯＵＴ ＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

volume five — todo a su tiempo

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, more tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: all of the comments and feedback i've received so far has been absolutely amazing, it always encourages me to plow through volumes! i appreciate and love all of you <3

✦ ── word count: 4.9k

archive ─ playlist

series masterlist - previous volume - volume six

art by outdmilk on twt

The following days you could only describe were bliss.

Sukuna and you had established a set—yet, unspoken—routine. You’d wake up, hop to the kitchen, and get breakfast started. 

He’d disappear into the bathroom, hacking up a storm with his toothbrush and shuffle into work clothes.

You’d learned how he’d dress his eggs, that he only drank his coffee black which you scowled at upon discovery, and which mug he liked to sip from.

You even started packing him a lunch—which he called unnecessary every single time despite never turning it down.

You got comfortable in the clothing he’d bought you, despite having no sensitivity for fashion outside of red flannels and blue jeans.

If he wasn’t going to accept payment in the form of a wire transfer, you were going to ensure that you were going to pay him back through duties despite still being incredibly indebted to him.

He was a jerk, but a jerk who saved your life.

You dusted off his entire CD collection, reorganized his dining sets after polishing them, and scrubbed his tiles until they shined.

Twice.

From what you could puzzle together, it seemed that he worked down at a sawmill and treaded down the hill to reach his pick-up before heading into work. The extra lumber he’d chop on occasion, he’d leave in a lump come winter time when it’d be too cold to stand outside for long periods of time.

You’d bothered him quite a bit the next day about putting up a clothesline out back, which he found irksome but completed nonetheless that evening, along with fixing the dryer. 

You thus called the clothesline useless if he was just going to fix the dryer and he flicked your forehead.

He’d hammer you about checking your bandages and curse you out when you’d forget, and you’d raid his book collection and sit beneath a tree to pass time.

Uraume was quite the companion—plopping on you to rub their mud-covered mane to which you’d giggle at. 

You’d both fall asleep beneath the haze of the afternoon heat that hung sweetly in the air. Days were old, nights were young. You’d tan your shoulders, haunted by the melancholy of youth. The sky felt bigger than everything.

You’d scoop yourself three helpings of ice cream that’d dribble down your hand, Uraume lapping it up when it’d muddled around your palm.

The rusted windchimes on the patio became your favorite noise.

Nothing made sense except your virtue for stillness. You knew nothing was okay, but it felt otherwise.

You occasionally found yourself lurking near the shed, toying with the lock and peering between the slivers of cracked wood, but it was completely black inside—further frustrating your curiosity.

You’d argue with Sukuna every here and then—bickering about who’d tracked dirt in, when you’d use all the hot water before he had the chance to shower, or Sukuna telling you that you’d talked too much when you’d feel restless after being cooped up all day, your only friend Uraume who wasn’t of much help since they couldn’t actually speak back to you.

Sukuna was mean but he was sufferable.

“You ever try a root beer float?”

You had your hand resting on the side of his TV, giving it a couple of smacks to get rid of the static. Thankfully he had cable but you could tell he rarely used the old box. “Who hasn’t?”

He grunted at your bluntness, pulling a beer can from the fridge along with a pint of vanilla ice cream. “How about a root beer float with beer?”

You turned to frown at him, obviously not excited at the mixture of ale and milk. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, city girl.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Where on Earth did you learn this?”

You shoved an orange plastic straw into your mason jar that was both foamy from the sprite and beer can you’d dumped in along with a hefty scoop of ice cream. 

You were yet to be sick of ice cream.

You swirled your straw, eyeing it suspiciously as Sukuna had already spooned half of it down.

“Lots of free time,” he smirked, a line of frothy ice cream above his upper lip.

You grimaced, tossing a napkin at him and taking a sip.

You were a little pissed off that you liked it.

“Aren’t these called dirty root beer floats?” You quirked with an emphasis, metal spoon churning the thick cream. You pulled your knee up to your chest, resting your chin against the cap.

He shrugged, adjusting in his seat and reaching a long armover to the fridge. He propped it open, grabbing himself yet another can of beer to guzzle down.

You could only watch in awe at his bottomless pit of a stomach.

Pushing away your glass, you folded your arms over your knee and leaned forward. “Are you an orphan?”

He side-eyed you mid-sip, surprised at your sudden and blunt inquiry, bringing the can down just to crush it with his hand. “What’s it to you?”

You tilted your head, before retreating. “Nothing. Just curious.”

“Stop poking your nose where it ain’t belong,” he scoffed, pushing up from his seat and tossing the mutilated can into the sink.

Your nose scrunched, knowing you’d yet again managed to cross unmarked territory. Your time here was short, and though Sukuna simply seemed to be a hostile and reticent guy, you felt like there was more to him somehow. It was naive to think he’d care to express it, though. You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone more closed off than him.

There was something stewing beneath the surface of his hardened demeanor you couldn’t place.

But that was coming from a woman with forever bubbling emotions that seemed to simmer indefinitely.

You hated small talk—you’d never been able to stomach it. The feigned smiles and comments about weather or formal confabulation. You’d sworn against it after your divorce, severing most ties with a family that indulged in table talk and pleasantries.

His footfalls disappeared into his room and you huffed, peering out the window and feeling a sense of frustration, a moon-struck madness cast upon you.

Until he returned to the kitchen just moments later, a box in his hand that you’d become quite familiar with.

He got to one knee before you, resting your foot atop his muscled thigh as he undressed your ankle.

You pretended not to twitch when his calloused fingers grazed your bare skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You didn’t know an ankle could be so ticklish.

“My parents,” he started, nearly mumbling under his breath. “Killed a real long time ago.”

You quirked a brow, something you couldn’t decipher lurching in your chest as you shuffled in your seat.

“Joined the army with my brother. Half-brother. We got into some argument, way back, n’ I haven’t seen him since. Just left him on some mission and never turned back.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, watching Sukuna’s hands still near your ankle as those tightly etched lines on his face only dug deeper, as if the only expression he could reserve was a scowl.

You inhaled sharply, worried that you were treading on thin ice already. “What’s he like? Your brother.”

Sukuna scoffed. “My brother? Real arrogant bastard.” He placed an antiseptic wipe into his mouth just to tear it open with his canines. “Aggressive, unhinged.”

“Like you,” you quickly added with a tug of your lip.

Sukuna glanced up, a sarcastic grin coloring him before he leaned forward to flick your forehead, a gesture he’d gotten incredibly comfortable with executing.

“Ouch!” You yelped, hands flying to shield your forehead as Sukuna snickered under his breath. “The hell was that for?”

“For being a lil brat,” he jeered back, finishing up the dressing.

You slowly lowered your hands, resting them on your thighs and frowning.

“Been quite a few days now,” he started, effectively changing the subject, lowering your leg and peering up at you. “I’ll walk you down the main trail first thing. Had someone pick up my shift.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat, shuffling in your seat as you averted eye contact. “Well, I’m not sure if I’m totally healed and—.”

“If you complain too much, I'll just drag you by the ankle.”

Or in normal, non-Sukuna terms, he’ll carry you on his back like he did up the hill.

“But I-I,” you began to fumble over your words, perturbation spiking. “I haven’t completed my fill yet and cleaned enough—.”

He spoke your name curtly, a volume slightly raised above your own that it had you come to a halt in your rambles, heat warming your cheeks discomfitingly. “Tomorrow morning. Won’t say it again.”

A rock of desperation sat thick in your throat, feeling yourself develop a case of cottonmouth in real time as Sukuna retreated to his room for the evening. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, biting the inside of your cheek.

To put it plainly—you didn’t want to leave.

You liked it here compared to your real life in the city. It was stupid to think that you could continue to mooch off of Sukuna by sleeping on his wearing and scruffy couch and cook him two meals and think he’d allowed you to stay.

But he’d done far more than enough. Opened his home to you and fed you and allowed you autonomy with nothing in return. 

You didn’t like being indebted, but you did like Sukuna’s shabby little nook in the forest.

Lamentably, your little vacation and respite had come to an end.

In all honesty, you probably could’ve walked down by day three. But you ignored your near-healed injury and deluded yourself into thinking this newfound peace was something you could continue to indulge in.

You plopped down on the couch, crossing your arms over your chest, eyes dialed in on his popcorn ceiling marked with water stains and dust.

It’d only been a few days, and though you hated how abrasive and standoffish Sukuna was, he was possibly the first person to really notice you.

His eyes didn’t rake over you and allow you to blend into the crowd. He treated you like a nuisance at times and your banter was practically never-ending, but you’d oddly found a sense of mutual understanding between each other.

Two people who felt abandoned by the real world.

You shut your eyes, dragging your hands over your face as you pulled the thin sheet over your head, attempting to shake off your plethora of emotions you didn’t have the energy to sort out.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Don’t even think about forgettin’ nothin’. I’m not coming all the way back up.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the rucksack on your back as you shuffled down the wooden steps. “I won’t. You got a switchblade I can borrow?”

Sukuna eyed you as you leaned over to tie your boots, your face shielded from him as your unnecessarily wide-brimmed hat flopped in the early morning haze. “Uh. No. You’re outta luck,” he murmured, shoving a hand into his jean pockets and glancing down the hill.

You looked up at him from the ground, unable to hide your blatant surprise. “You’re kidding. A lumberjack doesn’t own a blade?”

He just shrugged, averting his gaze and narrowing his eyes. “We gonna get goin’ or what?”

You scowled, hopping to your feet and dusting your knees off. “Wow. You really have mastered the art of deflection,” you taunted, walking past him just to nudge his arm.

He flinched at the contact, watching you pad down the trail with a permanent scowl, the ink on his face contorting with each antagonized expression.

“So,” you called out minutes later, only a few feet behind him as he’d overtaken your slow pace easily. You didn’t even try to keep up with his long strides, as if he couldn’t get rid of you any quicker. “What’s the plan if we’re cornered by a pack of mutts again?”

Sukuna only ignored you, but you could see his irritation light up in the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

Just the sound of your voice seemed to infuriate him sometimes.

You jogged up towards him, craning your head up and squinting against the harsh rays of the sun tethered high in the sky, her light filtered through flitting leaves. “No plan? Because a switch blade would be of some real relief—“

“Do you ever stop talking?”

You shrugged, undeterred. “You’ve asked me that before. You should know the answer.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Are we almost thereeeee,” you whined out, hands hanging limp at your sides as you dragged your feet.

It felt like your muscles were on fire, tensing with each movement and flaring as your exhaustion only roared on.

“Nope.” 

Sukuna was at your side now, irritated that you kept falling too far behind and resigning to your slow tempo. 

You continued to huff and puff and bitch and moan, but as much as Sukuna hated to hear your grievances, he also enjoyed seeing you suffer in the afternoon heat.

Sweat beaded across your browline and down your spine, your top clinging to the perspiration. Your eyes hung low, as if you could pass out any moment from heat stroke and your throat had gone dry after chugging all of your water.

Sukuna on the other hand? The guy was in tip-top shape. And it drove you mad. His stamina was one to rival a wolf with.

“C-can’t we take a break?” You groaned out of breath.

Sukuna let out consecutive tsks, watching as your rucksack made you hunch over like you were about to topple a stack of dominoes. “Now how could we when we’re so close.”

You shot him a glare. “You literally just said we weren’t close.”

“Heats’ got me hallucinating,” he sarcastically defended, arching a brow at you with a sharp grin.

You opened your mouth to call him a slew of curses that equated him as crass and crazy, when your foot stalled.

You gasped, effectively tripping over your own foot as you stepped on your undrawn shoe lace, arms flying forward.

Sukuna’s eyes bulged, arms instinctively reaching forward and stepping in front of you.

And as clumsy as you were, your foot caught the back of his, pushing him backwards, your hands smacking against his chest.

You both fell with a timber-like thud, crashing into a pile of brush. You could hear Sukuna wince and grunt as he broke your fall. 

His massive hands were around your waist, your face stuffed into the crook of his neck and accidentally taking in his scent—cigarettes and a woody musk so undeniably him.

The two of you were still for a moment—could’ve been mere seconds, could’ve been minutes—until you inhaled sharply and pushed off of him, falling to the side with an unceremonious thunk!

Sukuna stared at the sky, arms flopped to his sides lazily as you scrambled over words, heat rising from your nape all the way to the crown of your ears. “I- Sorry I didn’t mean to—,” you stopped yourself, eyes fixing on his palm.

He seemed to have sliced it open against brush, a bleeding wound the size of your pinky across the front of his hand.

“Oh my god, your hand,” you gasped, fingers reaching out to smooth a finger near the broken skin, but Sukuna seemed to beat you to the punch.

He sat up quickly, tugging his hand away from you like you’d burn him if you came into contact and getting to his feet. “Christ, woman. I’m fine.”

You furrowed your brows, swallowing a thick lump of contrite lodged in your throat. “Are you sure? Your hand looked—.”

“We going or what?” He interrupted, a deep contempt and frustration brewing on his face, like he’d tasted coffee somehow even more bitter than his regular order.

He scoffed at your momentary silence and picked up his pace down the path, fingers flexing at his side again.

You bit your lip, scrambling to your feet and hurrying after him.

Though, you made sure to never fall too far behind this time, just a few paces behind him.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

For the duration of what was left, you kept your gaze lowered on the floor before you, occasionally kicking a pebble and watching it scurry away.

Sukuna kept his pace manageable. But he didn’t utter a word to you.

The tension was more than palpable—like a thick, tempestuous cloud hanging over the both of you that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

Your heart never really slowed to a resting pace—whether that be from another unbridled argument with Sukuna or the exertion of the walk. You didn’t dare attempt to decipher which possibility it may be.

You picked at the skin around your nails, feeling like a little kid who’d gotten in trouble and blindly followed their parents around.

Thankfully, this was the last you’d be seeing of him. No more stifling arguments that left your skin flaring.

“My truck is just down the road.” Sukuna suddenly broke the silence, his pace coming to a stop.

“What?” You squeaked out immediately, peering up at him from the rim of your hat.

He gave you a strange look, cocking his head to the side reluctantly. “Uh, we’re here. I wouldn’t mind giving you a lift back to—.”

“No!” You interrupted, shaking your hands in front of you. You hadn’t even noticed how long the two of you had been walking, the rushing sound of cars from a nearby freeway augmenting your senses.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes, gaze dancing across you. If you were any less lucid, you could’ve sworn you’d seen remorse coloring him.

“I’ve got it figured out from here. Thanks, Sukuna,” you breathed out slowly, a wide smile across your cheeks that pinched the skin uncomfortably.

He couldn’t shake off the odd feeling churning in his chest, coughing it away and averting his gaze with his hands planted on his hips. “Suit yourself.”

You glanced at the open road, just past it was a gas station where you’d be able to rest before calling for a ride.

“I’d say see you around but we both know how unlikely that is,” you admitted with a dry laugh, goosebumps littering your body in a cold sweat.

He side-eyed you, jaw clenched as he mulled over something in silence.

But you could barely take it anymore.

“Goodbye, Sukuna,” you whispered, any louder and it wouldn’t be a promise.

He brought a hand over his hat, before bowing his head, real lumberjack-like.

“Bye, city girl.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

You nearly passed out at the rest stop, chugging three bottles of water and splashing your face in the restroom before plopping on one of those window seats.

The cup of ramen you downed had your head lolling, belly satiated and brain fuzzy as you waited for your phone to charge up.

Halfway through day three with Sukuna, your phone had died and you didn’t care to charge it.

Not like you could anyway. You didn’t bring a charger and Sukuna had a phone at least several generations behind with a cracked screen. You wondered if he even cared to use it.

Your phone buzzed on and, lo and behold, fifteen missed calls and twenty texts ranging from your boss to your colleagues.

And one missed call from your mother.

Great.

You skimmed your fingers through your hair, ordering an uber. Truthfully, you didn’t want to deal with any of this until you slept for ten hours minimum but you didn’t have the luxury to ignore all of your issues as much as you’d like to.

So you hopped from your seat and rolled your shoulder, dragging your feet to your rideshare.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Look who decided to show up.”

You rolled your eyes at your peach-skinned boss, stepping into the shabby building with flickering neon logo lights nestled between a 24-hour convenience shop and a hole-in-the-wall bar and karaoke.

“I already texted you and called to apologize. Please don’t make my migraine worse,” you shot back, rolling your neck as exhaustion still seemed to plague you. You plopped down on the weathered couch, the familiar sinking feeling having you toss your head back and groan. “Is Shoko out on a run?”

She padded over to you, half of her face shielded from the milky braid she was so adamant on wearing all of the time. To be quite frank, you didn’t know what the other side of her face even looked like. Which was odd for the duration you’d worked under her. “She’ll be back in a few. You do understand these are grounds to fire you, yes?”

“My god, Mei Mei. We both know you’re not going to do that,” you sighed, feeling like there were bare canines skimming over your nape, any harder and they make break your irritated skin. “Take three days out of my pay. Happy?”

She bristled, turning on her heel and leaning against her desk. “She was worried sick,” she started, tone flat and monotonous. “Filed a missing persons report and everything.”

You bit your lip, eyes dialed in on the chipped rim across the room beside the grey and lifeless metal lockers. “You sure you weren’t worried sick?” You attempted to break the tension, though you knew the answer.

She scoffed incredulously. “I was. Worried that I’d somehow have to find someone as competent as you looking to be a modern day scullery maid,” she sighed out, peeling documents from her desk to skim over.

You huffed, grabbing your bag and shoving up from your seat to rake through your locker. “When’s the next service?”

“45 minutes from now. Rest up, it’ll be some back breaking work.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

She wasn’t kidding.

Your first day back on the job after your accidental get-away was to some dilapidated house on the edge of town. Some affluent couple with too much free time decided to delve into flipping-culture, enter your cleaning company to fix up the place before they got to work on the infrastructure and furnishing.

For the following five hours, you scrubbed, brushed, mopped, sponged, wiped, squeegeed, buffed, shined, and polished the place until every limb of yours nearly gave out.

Shoko didn’t mind keeping close company the entire time, scolding your ear off and pinching you.

“Do you know how awkward it was to call your mother? Do you?” She huffed between scrapes of the bathroom tub, removing the age old grime. “She said you’d probably gone on some bender after—.” She halted herself mid-conversation, worrying her lip between her teeth.

You glanced over your shoulder with knitted brows, hand stilling against the mirror. “After what?”

Shoko bit the inside of her cheek, slowly continuing her movements like she was inconspicuous, regretting ever uttering a word.

“Sho. What are you talking about?”

She slowly turned to meet your gaze, a sheepish smile on her lips. “Naoya sent her an invitation, too.”

Your mouth hung open, the rag in your hand effectively falling into the sink. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” you cursed under your breath, snapping your gloves off. “Of course he fucking did.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket and hurried out of the bathroom, striding into some empty bedroom littered with old couches draped in plastic, heavy drapes shielding any source of light.

The only illumination in the room was your phone, lighting up your face as you frantically searched for her extremely buried contact and hit the call button.

You folded your arms, leg bouncing as you heard the line buzz, before it clicked on.

“Mom! Hi, I just saw your message—.”

“Where on Earth have you been?”

You froze, nails digging into your biceps. “Let me explain, o-over dinner. Tonight?”

You could hear her sigh on the other side, voice nothing but crestfallen. You could imagine her lounging in the living room, legs folded while she perused whatever tabloid she could find around the house resting in her lap, phone pressed to her ear. 

All while wondering what she’d done to deserve a daughter like you.

“I have plans. I’m just trying to understand why I could not reach you.”

You swallowed thickly. “I went for a hike, mom. I got lost and—.”

“Is it because of Naoya? Did the wedding invite bother you?”

And God, did you hate how she just knew these things. How could she be so certain and understanding but lacking any sort of sympathy for you?

”No one wants to see a wedding invite from their ex-husband,” you tersely stated, knuckles whitening against the tight grip on your device. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not going.”

You couldn’t mask your dejection.

“Like hell you aren’t. The Zenin’s invited us, and so God help me if we aren’t in attendance. Especially after all they’ve done for us,” she firmly spoke, skimming her fingers through her wiry hair.

Even after your divorce, the Zenins still offered to take care of your family. You’d turned down their hush money since the start, ensuring you wouldn’t spread the fine details of your muddled relationship, but your mother enjoyed her early retirement and stuffing her pockets. 

You gritted your teeth, your discomfort only manifesting into blinding anger. Your lips tightened upwards and curled inwards, wrinkles littering the crease in your forehead. You wanted to scream at your mother, incoherent and inconsolable until you couldn’t anymore.

The relationship you held with your mother was too violent for tears. A woman who’d clipped the wings of her offspring and watched her stumble clumsily, never offering a hand to ground her. Built upon your own wreckage. Swallowing the words you so wished you could utter.

She hadn’t been your mother in a long time, really. 

You don’t know when it happened. Maybe when she’d haggled you for your too-short skirt when you were thirteen and barely growing into yourself. 

Maybe it was when you’d gotten accepted into your dream college and she could barely display an ounce of pride.

Maybe it was before you’d walked down the aisle, expressing your worries of having a small wedding that she only silenced you with a tut of her tongue.

Maybe it was after your father passed. Her blinded by grief and rage brought upon you like a monsoon, shoving you and gutting you beneath the tide.

Maybe it was when you told her you couldn’t bear children, not after trying for months and your husband's tone only becoming more and more clipped with each passing moment. 

Maybe it was when you’d come to her at four in the morning, crying when you’d found evidence of his infidelity and she’d only given you that same blank stare she wore, telling you that every man slips up and to turn a blind eye.

You hadn’t understood the severity of the situation you were in until it was too late. Marrying a man who so desperately wanted to continue his lineage.

And when he couldn’t? He’d just find it elsewhere.

Who said you didn’t want that as well? A child to call your own. A pathetic part of you thought this marriage would save you—sweep you out from under your feet and carry you to a higher standing. 

You thought that after all those years of gutted self-esteem, that a lavish white wedding would slap a bandaid on it.

It was pitiful. 

But what hurt the most was that you had no one on your side. Not your mother, not your father, not even a lover. No one to stand beside you when it all felt like it was tumbling down.

You wiped the vain tears from your cheeks, clearing your throat as you chose not to resign to your emotions, a tactic you’d taught yourself. “Okay, mom.”

You hung up, ignoring her calls of protest on the other line.

There was really no arguing with her, you saw no point in it.

You still had time before the wedding, enough time to build yourself up to someone untouchable by their comments. Comments not just from the Zenin family, but from your own kin.

You shoved your phone into your pocket, sniffling and blinking back the last of your tears.

No use in crying over it now.

Padding back into the bathroom, you watched Shoko spray away the suds she’d worked up. “Hey, I was gonna ask. What was the name of the guy you stayed with?” She queried, wiping her forearm against her forehead.

You averted her gaze, focusing on the sink you needed to bleach. “Sukuna.”

She chuckled to herself, making an ‘ouhhhh’ sound that you smacked her for, drawing a cigarette from her pocket and thumbing the sparkwheel.

No matter your protests, she assumed that this mystery man was your secret lover.

You snagged the lighter from her before she could get a chance to light it.

“Hey! I was using that,” she pouted, lower lip jutting as she frowned.

“Uh huh. No smoking indoors and on the job. Do you want to lose your job?” 

She scoffed, snagging the lighter back. “Funny coming from you. Smoke detectors were turned off for cleaning and repairs.”

You huffed, snapping a new set of gloves on.

The sound of fire kindling had your stomach lurching, sent into a volley of somersaults. 

The smell was even worse.

Of course she had to be smoking Marlboro Reds.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine coming home late at night. It was already two in the morning by the time you got home. Although you aren't tired, all you wanted was to get home. To be right next to him.

Imagine ever since you started working at night shift, the lesser time you spend with your lover. Despite that, every night you would come home with already cooked food waiting for you and same goes upon waking up.

Imagine you feel bad. Of course you do, he already has too much on his plate, has to wake up early in the morning but still has time to cook food for you. So you wanted to give back. You planned to go home early tonight. But shits unfold and you were forced to take an over time.

Imagine closing the door behind you gently. He must be sleeping already just like any other day. So you went through the dimmed living room only to halt upon seeing his sleeping figure on the sofa. What is he doing in here?

Imagine coming over to him. Eyes softened as you look fondly at him. "Caleb." You caresses his cheeks gently. "Why are you sleeping here?" You tap his cheeks gently but strong enough to wake him up. As much as you want to carry him into your shared room. You don't think that would be possible. But you also think how uncomfortable it would be for him to spend a night in the sofa. "Come one bud, wake up. Let's mobe you to bed."

"Bud?" He stirred up on his sleep, opening one eye. "Who's bud? I'm only your baby, honey, darling, love-" "Yes yes honey, now move so I can help you get into bed, okay?" Instead on doing as you said, he yawn, stretched out and sat comfortably at the sofa, tapping the vacant spave beside him. "Caleb, it's late. You should seriously go back to sleep."

Imagine Caleb who was leaning on the sofa eyes closed, snapped open before reaching out a hand towards you, pulling you into his lap. You can feel his breath on the back of your nape sending a shiver down his spine. "That's too bad. I was waiting for you so we can eat dinner." That stunned you for a moment. "Baby, it's already two in the morning." "Oh."

Imagine sitting across him as he heats up the food. You can’t help but to stare at him. "Long day at work?" He could feel the weight of your stare. "No." You replied. "Just thinking how lucky I am to have you." You saw him halt, then he look back, a smile on his lips as if he cannot help it. "I should be the one telling you that." When he said that with such a genuine smile and look in his face. Who are you not to believe that?

Imagine you missed this. Eating with him, talking with him. You missed this. Longed for these moments to last. You missed him. "You know I love you, right?" He asked, eyes looking fondly at yours. You smiled at him. "Of course." You replied softly. "And you know I love you too right?" "I always do."

Imagine as Caleb wake up in the morning, your peaceful sleeping face greeting him. There is nothing more he could wish for. He already has everything within his arms. And he couldn’t wait for forever to come.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: laughing my ass of because I always do my daily around 12-3am and Caleb- my guy is always asleep lmao. And basically what leads to here. I see Sylus as the only man who can keep up with me but my heart wants Caleb :(

[n1k0laa5]

TOMORROW IS NOT FUCKING SPECIAL.

Sorry for the yell. Actually, no, not sorry.

Because you heard me and I meant every syllable of what I wrote—now sit down and OPEN YOUR EYES.

“I’ll attempt tomorrow.”

“Maybe I’ll manifest tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

WHAT IS SO FUCKING SPECIAL ABOUT TOMORROW??

Babes. Babes listen. You will not find a magical fairy godmother-given physical key to manifesting or shifting tomorrow. You won’t find dust made of blended unicorn shit that’s blessed by the ancient Gods.

TOMORROW IS NOTHING.

TOMORROW IS JUST LIKE TODAY.

And if it’s just like today; guess what’ll happen?

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Again.. and again.. and again.. and again.

And you’re surprised why it’s suddenly winter of 2026 and you “still haven’t manifested/shifted”.

…bitch?

It all starts today. Today you decide. Today you persist. Today you keep going because you are God.

Do it scared. If you have time to whine and bitch about it, you have time to do SOMETHING. ANYTHING??

Listen to that subliminal. Try that new method. Affirm. Do anything and persist in it.

Because God doesn’t spent weeks procrastinating a single shifting attempt—do you even hear how pathetic that sounds? Seriously. You have all this fucking power to decide your reality and what works for you, and you DON’T INSTANTLY USE IT?!

The 3D does not matter. It has never mattered and it never will matter. Relying on the 3D, relying on procrastination, relying on anything that is not your imagination and actual power is FUCKING USELESS.

Yes, I’m being aggressive, but am I wrong? What truly guarentees that tomorrow is different?

Are you gonna decide it’s different or.. let me guess, you’ll procrastinate.

Genuinely. Wake the fuck up. No one is gonna save you. No one is gonna shift for you. Beg all the “master manifestors” to manifest for you or beg all the bloggers for your next dophamine hit like a fucking ADDICT but nothing can change your reality but yourself.

You lose NOTHING by just deciding “Okay. I have shifted. I have what I want.” That’s it. It doesn’t matter what the 3D shows. Make scenarios, feel them, giggle and kick your feet uncontrollably knowing you’re there.

Understood? Capeesh? Got through your pretty head? Good. NOW STOP PROCRASTINATING.

[blondwhxrewrites]

It's a petty argument with words being thrown that have no real heat behind them. Hell, neither you nor Bob even remembered what had caused the argument. But the team sure was loving the free entertainment.

"Fuck you." You hissed, glaring down at Bob, who sat comfortably on the couch. Bob—that bastard—stared up at you with a smug expression. He looked like he was having the time of his life arguing with you.

"Please do." He leaned back into the cushions. "I want nothing more than for your thighs to be wrapped around my face. How did you know that was one of my fantasies?”

You stilled, a shocked expression washing over your features. You opened your mouth, your brain scrambling to come up with a retort, but nothing came out. Your mind had truly gone blank.

Okay, you could take witty retorts, but this was something new.

Seeing how flustered he'd made you, Bob smirked, and you hated just how attractive it was.

“I think you broke her." Ava commented from where she sat next to Yelena, obviously amused and slightly disgusted by Bob's crude statement.

“Yeah,” John stood up, looking at both you and Bob with a disgusted expression. “I'm not putting myself through this torture”

Yelena snorted into her drink, trying hard not to let her amusement show.

You watched as John walked out of the room. You then focused your attention back onto Bob. You glared at him.

It was a glare that held the fury of a thousand suns.

“This isn't over, pretty boy.”

“You think I'm pretty?”

You groaned.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and stared up at the ceiling. For a few fleeting moments you reconsidered your life and the choices you'd made that led up to this moment. Your mom was right; you should've just worked at a bank. Your life would've been so much more peaceful if you had.

Bob couldn't help but chuckle, a sound you usually loved to hear, but right now it did nothing but stroke the flames of your anger.

‘You know what—” you sighed, defeated. “You are clearly in Sentry mode”

It didn't matter what you said to him; he was clearly not going to listen to you. He was egging you on, and you refused to let him win.

You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. You turned to Yelena. “Wake me up when he—” You jabbed your thumb at the menace in question. “eventually crashes and Void decides to show up.”

“Yes ma'am” Yelena offered you a small salute.

With that, you left.

A few seconds later, the sound of your door slamming shut could be heard from down the hallway.

“Oh wow,” Bob whistled lowly. “She really just called me out.”

God, he loved you.

Not edited. This isn't my best work but I tried :p

[angelsafa]

Being 'kicked out' of the void

Hi lovess!

I decided to make this post for those who struggle with being like 'kicked out' of the void or basically waking up once they 'reach' it.

So. my loves, I get you. This is so frustrating. But the fact that you manage to enter the void itself it's such a great thing and you literally broke the 99% limiting belifs that people have my sweet angels!

Okay. Now, breath. Relax. I get it, it's annoying.

If you struggle with that problem, its probably one of these:

You're checking in too much. Toughts like: "Ok Im in the void... now what??" "Am I still in it?" "Am I doing it good?" "Wtf do I do now?" Even if they’re subtle, those thoughts might put you back into the ego state. You pop back into the “observer” mode, which pulls you out.

You're not truly letting go. You might still be holding a little too tightly to what you want to do inside the void. That pressure to manifest or like "do it right" can accidentally push you back into the 3d.

The belif itself of being kicked out. If deep down you believe “I always get kicked out,” guess what will happen? Exactly. That.

Now, instead, try this:

Before entering the void, gently affirm: “I enter the void and stay there as long as I choose to. I am in control.” “I don’t need to check. I trust. I stay.” “I don’t rush. The void is peace. I am the void. And I flow with it." Things like those, you know.

Also, don’t overthink your intention. Set it once before and then let it go. When you feel that “void calm,” just be. Let the silence do the work. If thoughts try to sneak in, observe them like clouds. Don’t engage. Let go.

You’re literally right there. Just gotta let go of the urge to grip and trust you’re in control. You decide to stay. That’s it.

Hope this post helps!

Lots of love,

Safa

[lieslab]

How rare and beautiful it is to even exist

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Summary: After struggling with your identity, you realize you might be non-binary.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Requestee, I'm so glad you requested this. Happy pride month!! June is slowly dwindling to a close, but my love and support for the lgbtq+ community is not. You are so loved here. May love continue to win in every form it takes <3

_ _ _

Sitting on the edge of the stage, you sipped from your water bottle silently. Your heart thumped against the side of your lungs. It was just another sound check, but you still screwed around with the guys. From jumping and bumping into one another, to chasing one another around the stage when you weren’t singing, it definitely caused your heart rate to increase. 

Room temperature water wasn’t the best, but you made it work. Your eyes scanned around the empty seats of the venue. Thousands of these seats would be filled later. You’d all perform like you always did. Thinking about it made your heart swell with joy. 

Screwing around on stage, dancing beneath spotlights, singing your heart out, it all came so naturally to you. You spent months as a trainee trying to make your dreams come true. When Stray Kids debuted, you could hardly believe it was happening. 

It all happened so quickly. More dance practices and more studio sessions. Lessons to improve your talents and a chance to learn new languages. Become more fluent, do things right, you were always so excited and now you’re here. You were doing it. You were living out your dreams. Almost exactly the way you wanted to. Almost, but not quite in the way you desired. 

Felix dropped down beside you panting. Strands of golden hair framed his head like a halo. “I can’t believe we have another hour of this left.” He tugged the cap of his own water bottle off his water. “I’m so tired.” 

You chuckled and nudged his shoulder. “I told you that you shouldn’t wear yourself down.” 

“I know, but I get so excited. Even when it’s soundcheck, it’s like I can pick up on the excitement of the fans. Did you know they’re already lining up? We still have three hours and the merch line is already lined up halfway behind the building.” 

Two dimples and a face full of freckles. Just talking to you, he squirmed with excitement. Pearly white teeth poked through a grin. “I still can’t believe this is all happening for us. It feels like a dream I never want to wake up from.” 

Footsteps approached from behind the two of you. Chan’s hands went to his hips and he glanced down fondly. “What are you two talking about?” 

“Hi, hyung.” Felix glanced up. “Did you see the fans lined up outside? There’s so many of them. It’s going to be a full house tonight.” 

“Yeah, it never gets old.” 

Felix shifted, lightly bumping into you. “Yeah, I’m going to see if anyone on Bubble is here. I need to thank them for standing outside. Their legs must be so tired. Oh, I love them so much.” 

You leaned back, so you could see Chan. He smiled, reached down, and gently patted your head. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re a little quiet.” 

“I’m in awe.” You gestured to the empty seats. “It’s amazing, really. I still can’t believe it.” 

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Always.” 

He ruffled your hair before heading back to the rest of the guys. Felix held up his phone and nudged your side once more. “Pose with me, so we can take a picture for the fans.” 

You held up half a heart with a smile, but deep down, something didn’t feel right in your heart. 

~ ~ ~ 

You were quiet on the way to the hotel. The guys were all so rowdy. Hyunjin and Han took turns impersonating some of the things they heard the fans scream in the crowd. 

“Jeongin! Jeongin! Oh, Jeongin!” Hyunjin reached up his hand and waved it around. 

“Changbinnie, if you look into my eyes, we have to get married!” Han responded. Changbin leaned over and whacked him in the back of the head. 

Minho laughed and Seungmin rolled his eyes. “They’d never want to be with you two idiots if they knew what you were like in real life.” 

“Unfortunately for the fans, they’re already mine and I’m not sharing.” Felix leaned over, wrapped his arms around Changbin’s arm, and leaned against him. “It feels so nice to be more than a fan.” 

“Ew,” Jeongin mumbled. 

“Did you guys have a good time?” Chan asked from the front passenger’s seat. 

“Yeah!” 

“Duh.” 

“Let’s do it again tomorrow! Fighting!” 

“LET’S GO!” 

You reached up and plugged your ears. No matter how long you’d been here, you still weren’t used to the loudness. Chaos bloomed when all nine of you were around each other. You only removed your fingers when they settled back down. 

Jeongin sighed and leaned back in his seat. “We had a really good crowd tonight. I’m tired, but I feel proud of what we accomplished. It was electrifying.”

“Did you guys see that one kid?” Han added. “They dressed up like Wolf Chan and it was so cute!” 

“What?” Chan jerked around in his seat. “Are you serious? I didn’t get to see it! Wait, now I feel bad.” 

“It’ll definitely be posted on social media at some point. There were a bunch of fans taking photos of them.” 

You listened without commenting. After concerts, you were always lacking energy. You used it all on the stage, but once you were away, your limbs grew heavy. Exhaustion clung onto you. You were so tired and couldn’t shake the feeling. 

Beside you, Minho glanced over and eyed you up and down. “Are you okay?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You look tired.” 

“I feel tired.” 

“We’re almost to the hotel. You can shower and get some sleep. You’ve eaten something, right?” 

“Of course.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, but finally gave up. “Okay.” He leaned back into his seat and reached up to flick Changbin in the back of his head. Just as he did, he jerked his hand away. “Ew, you’re soaked in sweat.” 

“That’s his slick,” Hyunjin commented. 

Felix’s eyes widened and he pulled away. His hands went over his eyes. Han’s mouth dropped open and he pulled himself forward and then looked behind him. “What the fuck?” 

Chan jerked down the rearview mirror and used it to look behind him. “Slick? As in like in the…” 

Jeongin gagged and cried out. “Stop it! Hyunjin, shut up! No more! I can’t do this tonight.” 

“MY SLICK? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? HYUNJIN, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” 

“He’s releasing pheromones and Lix is being affected.” 

 “Hyung, no!”

All your manager could do was roll his eyes and hope the hotel appeared sooner, rather than later as he drove. 

~ ~ ~ 

Freshly showered, you stared at your reflection in the mirror hung on the hotel room wall. You stared at your jawline and tipped your head from one side to the other. You knew you shouldn’t be so quick to judge yourself, but you did. 

It wasn’t just the fans that held opinions of all of you, it was everyone. Every interaction that you’d ever held with another person, it weighed upon you. How strange it was to be given a face and a body without your consent. Now you were here and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You didn’t get a choice in your biological sex. The floodgates of genetics and science opened. Your body formed itself from genetic codes, DNA, and you grew in your mother’s womb, just the same as everyone else. You had a similar upbringing to everyone, so why did you feel like a stranger in your own body? 

“Are you aware it’s after midnight?” Seungmin’s voice came from behind you. You jumped, spinning around to find him. He stared at you with narrowed eyes. “Forget you were sharing a room with me, or what?” 

“Yeah, kinda. I thought you were still in Hyunjin’s room. I didn’t realize you came back.” 

“I’ve been here since you were in the shower.” 

You nodded and walked away from your mirror. Across the way, a neatly made bed waited for you. This morning, you all checked into your hotel. The members shared hotel rooms like they always did. This time, you were with Seungmin. 

You didn’t mind Seungmin. In fact, you appreciated his honesty. Right now, you didn’t. Seungmin had the tendency to point out when something was wrong, before you were ready to talk about it. He was good at recognizing your distressed body language. 

“If you’re worried about the way you look, you shouldn’t. You were blessed with good genes and I wouldn’t lie about that.” 

You nodded and climbed into your bed. He watched you, but you didn’t say anything else. You squirmed, trying to pull the covers up from beneath you. You hoped the white bedding had been bleached, but you didn’t know for sure. Before you could fully pull up the blankets, Seungmin spoke again. 

“Is there something happening with you that we should know about? You’ve been acting kinda strange lately. Like, for example, when we have interviews, or photoshoots, and we have to get our makeup done; you kinda act a little funny. Like you’re nervous and it’s been happening for a while. You’ve never acted like that before. Is something wrong?” 

Internally, you cursed him. How dare he be good at picking up your uncomfortable cues. The way you looked at yourself in the mirror and quickly looked away. You saw yourself, but not in the way you wanted to. It always felt wrong. 

You hesitated, unsure if you should bring it up, or not. You knew he wouldn’t judge you, but you still felt unsure. What if he didn’t understand it? What if something changed and he did judge you? 

“You know how genders exist?” 

“Mhm.” 

Your eyes caught the carpet. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to find the courage to speak up. “What if… What if I don’t feel like a specific gender?” 

“Then you don’t feel like a specific gender.” 

“But…” 

“But?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“But… I-” You shook your head and shut your eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel. Some days, I want to go by certain pronouns and other days, I feel like a foreign being in my own body. What if I don’t know who I am, Seungmin?” 

“Who said you have to know?” 

You chuckled weakly, “the world.” 

“The world is bullshit. This is your life and you might only get one of them. The bravest thing a person can do in this life is unapologetically be yourself. The world doesn’t need an explanation. Society doesn’t need a definition.” 

“What if I want to label it?” 

“Then you’re allowed to do that as well.” 

“I think I might be non-binary.” 

“Well, in that case, congratulations on coming out.” 

You blinked a few times, trying to process his words. “That’s it? That’s all you're going to say?” 

“Uh-” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, is that not the right thing to say? What do you want me to do? Should I tell you to go back in the closet, or…?” 

“But you’re not making it a big deal. You’re not acting like it’s a problem.” 

“Why would it be a problem?” 

“It’s not normal.” 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “A lot of things aren’t normal. Who gets to define what’s normal and what’s not? Society changes all the time. You’re still you. You still have that same personality. So maybe you feel one gender, another, or maybe none of them. That’s not a big deal. A big deal would be you announcing that you’re bringing a baby into the world. This isn’t a problem.”

“But aren’t you scared?” 

“Of what?” 

“What if the fans find out? What if they leave?” 

“Then those sound like people I don’t want to have in our fan group. We’re accepting of different cultures here. Different languages, different communities, different genders, different sexualities. If someone is going to alienate someone and try to ridicule someone for something that makes them feel happy, that’s not a person I’d like to be associated with.” 

You stared at him, feeling like you might cry. His brutal honesty created a shield in front of you and you didn’t know how to thank him. You knew his words rang true, but hearing them out loud, hearing that someone believed in you, no matter who you felt like, no matter who you wanted to be, it felt like saving grace. 

“Why are you tearing up?” He asked. “I didn’t think you were the sappy type.” 

“Because I’ve been holding it back for a while. I’ve been terrified of how you’ll all react. I don’t want to cause problems in the group.”

“Uh, have you met us? Felix practically wants to live in Changbin’s muscles. Han and Minho have hundreds of fanfics written about the two of them. I like being manhandled. Hyunjin and Chan have made two music videos together where they’re practically in heat around one another. Changbin insists he’s married to Hyunjin and you’re worried about us judging you because you don’t feel like a specific gender fits you?” 

Your eyes went down and you scratched the back of your head. “You know, when you say it out loud, it kinda sounds silly.” 

“We love you, you idiot. All of you. You’re not letting us down if you decide to do what makes you happy. It’s encouraged here and you should know that by now.” 

“So I shouldn’t be afraid if I come out to the other guys?” 

“I think the only thing you should be afraid of is Felix hugging you so tight, he might crack your ribs.” 

“Thanks, Seungmin.” 

“Anytime. Now if you’re going to get some sleep, I’m going to turn off the light. I can’t stand sleeping in anything, but the dark.”

“Right.” You jerked up the covers and hunkered into the coolness. A faint smile appeared on your face as the lights flipped off. This went far better than you expected it to. 

If Seungmin was this accepting, you had no doubt that the rest would accept you with open arms. 

~ ~ ~ 

The next morning, after a hotel breakfast of scrambled eggs and maple sausage, you sat in the back of the car with your lips pressed together. Seungmin hadn’t said anything about last night’s conversation and you knew he wasn’t going to. He was reliable like that and he knew it wasn’t his right to bring up. 

Your manager was still inside the hotel. He was talking to one of the employees about something. The rest of you waited for him to come back and drive you to the venue for night two of the concert. The guys were lost in their own conversations. 

It took a few moments for you to decide what to do. You could have waited to tell the guys later, but it didn’t feel right to leave them out of the conversation. You cleared your throat, trying to catch their attention. 

It only worked about half. Beside you, Hyunjin’s face scrunched up. “I swear, if you have a sore throat and you give it to me, I’m going to give it right back to you.” 

“I don’t, I just want to say something.” 

“Oh, in that case, I’ve got it.” He shut his eyes and lifted his head. “Everyone, shut up!” When the van quieted, he looked back at you and smiled. “Okay, you can talk now.”

“Thanks.” 

“Is something wrong?” Han was the first to turn around in his seat. “Are you feeling okay?” 

The guys shifted in their seats, trying to look at you. You sat in the back left corner of the van. “I’m alright, I just want to tell you guys something that I’ve been keeping quiet for a while now.” 

A quiet tension strummed up. The guys glanced at one another, unsure of where this was going, but they waited for you to speak. Your eyes caught Seungmin’s and he slightly nodded, letting you know it was okay. 

“I-I think I’m non-binary.” 

“That’s okay,” Hyunjin reached over and gently patted your shoulder. “I’m not good with binary codes, either.” 

“Wait, what?” Han asked. 

Felix burst into a fit of laughter. “Hyung, I think they mean they don’t fit into a specific gender spectrum. They’re not talking about coding, they’re talking about genders.” 

“Oh! That makes a lot more sense. Sorry, sorry.” He reached over with a meek smile and patted your shoulder again. “Congrats on that. I’m still not good at binary codes. Hopefully, I’m better at understanding this. I should have known that.” 

“Your stupidity impresses me every day, Hwang.” 

“Shut up, Minho, I said I was sorry!” 

“This is really cool!” Felix grinned and leaned forward. He pressed his chin to the edge of the seat. “Thank you for telling us.” His hand reached out towards yours. You reached up and gently grabbed it with a shy smile. 

“So what do you want to go by now? For your pronouns?” Jeongin asked. 

“Uh…” You shrugged, still not quite sure. 

“I’m calling you an ‘it,’” Minho called from up front. “It as in a creature. You’ve always been a bit of a creature. A bit of a freak. Fortunately, I am just as much of a freak as you are.” He smirked in the rearview mirror and winked. 

“Hyung, you can’t say that!” Seungmin sputtered. 

“We should celebrate!” Changbin squealed. “After this concert, I’m buying us all drinks.” 

“How are we going to tell the fans?” You asked. “I mean, they deserve to know, right? I-” 

“Woah,” Chan’s eyes widened. “We don’t have to tell them right away. You’re allowed to take the time and let it settle between all of us first, yeah? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. When the time feels right for you, we’ll do it in whatever way feels the best, okay?” 

You sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I think that feels better. So you’re not mad?” 

“Mad?” Han’s eyes widened. “Mad? Why would we be mad?” 

“Woman, man, non-conforming,” Minho waved his hand. “As long as I can still touch your ass, it’s not a problem for me.” 

“We still love you, no matter what,” Jeongin added. 

“We’re happy you told us,” Felix squeezed your hand again. 

“Do I still get to touch your ass, or…” 

“Minho, hyung!” 

He rolled his eyes and slammed his rearview mirror shut. “When did it become a criminal act to show your members love?” 

“By touching our asses?” 

“It’s my way of showing my love.” 

“Pervert,” Jeongin mumbled. “I heard that and just for that, I’m gonna lift your shirt later and show your abs.” 

“Go ahead, I’ve been working on them.”

“Oh!” Felix’s eyes widened. “Can I feel them? Can I see them? Do you wanna see mine, too?” 

Seungmin chuckled and glanced back at you. “See, I told you and you were worried about not being accepted by these idiots?”

“You told Seungmin first?” Changbin asked you. 

“It’s not like I meant to do it on purpose!” 

And that’s when the bickering and arguing started over which group member you loved more. Despite it, you couldn’t get over the warmth that encapsulated your heart. Maybe you weren’t perfect and you were still figuring things out. 

No matter who you wanted to be, as long as you were here, you’d always have people who rooted for you; they’d always be your home.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike @bokkiesluv @phinnyphinnegan

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ ILLICIT AFFAIRS, SAM WINCHESTER

summary. Being in love with his brother’s girlfriend drives Sam insane.

↬now playing| illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

⭑.ᐟshould I write a part two where they physically cheat so I can make some people cry for Dean? 🤭

word count. 748

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Sam stares as his soul is being ripped apart from him for the millionth time.

He stares until he feels his heart shatter into smaller parts day after day.

He’s not sure how his heart still works.

He’s not sure he has one anymore, actually.

He stares, he wonders, he tries not to cry because surely he’s being ridiculous.

He’s probably the worst brother in history of brothers.

He knows he doesn’t deserve you.

He sure as hell knows he’ll never have you.

Maybe that part of him that hopes so much is what keeps him alive after all.

The nights spent wondering about what life would look like if only you’d chosen him and not Dean.

The countless dreams and what ifs keeping him awake constantly- wanting nothing more but to just love you.

He thinks maybe loving you from a distance will still help- because at least he still gets to- you’re still an important part of his life- at least he has that- you.

He wants to scream sometimes.

He wants to scream at Dean, because although Sam knows he loves you, you still deserve better.

Maybe not him- but better.

Maybe it’d be easier if you were with anyone else other than his brother.

Maybe he wouldn’t want to scream so much.

He wants to scream at you to wake up and see what’s right there in front of you.

He wants to show you everything he’s ever wanted to give you.

Then- loving from a distance doesn’t feel so right anymore.

It feels itchy, like it’s right there under his skin, like it’s laughing at him, playing, making him believe all this time only to hit him in the face with the reality that it’s truly never going to happen.

Surely you’ll get your happy ending.

Maybe with Dean- probably not.

Maybe with a stranger.

Maybe with Sam in another life.

Sam’s not so sure he deserves a happy ending.

Not with you.

Not with someone else- because truthfully, he doesn’t see himself loving anyone other than you, and that eats at him.

His brain plays tricks sometimes.

He swears he can see you looking from across the room.

Glancing at him and looking away the moment he catches your eye like you didn’t mean to be caught.

He sees you bite your lip when he talks like you can’t hear a single word he says, like you need him in order to breathe.

He probably imagines all of it.

The way you reach for his hand trying to comfort him- as a friend.

The way you look at him when dean’s not looking or not around.

The way your hands get sweaty around him, the beat of your heart fastening and him swearing he can almost hear it.

He’s not okay with the what ifs.

He wants to tell you.

Except he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to be a horrible brother.

He knows his brother would kill him.

He doesn’t want to break that bond with him, drift away only because he wasn’t fast enough getting the girl of his dreams.

He doesn’t act but he wonders if you feel it.

If you feel the tension, sometimes sexual, sometimes just in the air like unspoken words eating at the both of you like torture.

He wonders if maybe, just maybe there’s a chance out there.

In 20 years.

Right now.

In another life, or universe.

He stares at the ceiling at night thinking about all of the times he could’ve acted on it before you even thought of falling for Dean.

He doesn’t know that you do the same thing.

You think about all of the times he reached for your hand and you pulled back as if you didn’t see it because you were too scared.

You think of the times he’d read to you to help you fall asleep, something Dean’s never done.

The way he’d ramble about his favorite books, geek over his favorite movies not knowing you actually love them just as much.

It’s unspoken but it’s there.

Maybe Dean deserves to know.

Maybe you don’t deserve either of them.

Perhaps the universe is sending you messages with the way you can’t stop thinking about another man.

About Sam.

A small part of you wishes that Dean would just up and leave. Break your heart so Sam can patch it up.

Maybe that makes you a terrible person.

But maybe love is there.

Maybe it’s never going away.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @l0v33-rey @sunnyteume @that-stanford-girlie @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb (comment to be added!🤍)

[band--psycho]

Poly!141 x Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 13)

Bit of a longer chapter this one! I hope you all enjoy this!💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Catch up on the previous part here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12

Warnings: Feelings of worry, car chase, car crash, mention of blood, paramedics, ambulances. being unconscious, cuts, bruises, concussion, dislocated shoulder, medical inaccuracies

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist /Taskforce 141 Masterlist /Join My Taglist

The paramedic was right, you were lucky. 

Your right shoulder was dislocated; you also had a cracked rib and a rather large cut on the top of your forehead; but other than that,  the injuries you’d sustained during the crash, were simply cuts and bruises. 

The doctors said they’d know more once you regained consciousness; but for right now, their outlook for you was good. 

Unlike Y/f/n... 

The four men didn’t know of their condition; seeing as  they weren’t family so they weren’t allowed to know anything… all they knew was that they were rushed into surgery upon arrival at the hospital. 

That was enough for them to gauge the severity of Y/f/ns injuries. 

The room you were in was near enough completely silent, except for the sound of the heart monitor machine; which thankfully kept beeping at a steady rate. 

Much to the relief of the men in the room. 

Simon was standing in the corner of the room closest to you; leaning against the wall, his jaw was tight as he stared straight ahead, much like he had done at home moments after you left.

He was unable to stop his mind from playing out scenarios that ended much worse than the one that happened. 

Occasionally he’d glance over at you; reminding himself that you were alright for the most part….that you were safe now. 

But every time he looked at you; he felt anger burning through his veins; Graves, Shepherd and whoever was driving the car was going to pay for this; he’d make sure of it. 

Of course he wouldn’t be alone. 

He knew that.

John, Johnny and Kyle would all help in hurting the fuckers that did this to you. 

Johnny was already pacing back and forth along the far wall; his agitation rolling off of him in waves; he'd occasionally stop and look at you for prolonged periods of time, as if you’d wake up if he looked at you long enough.  

But you didn’t. 

And that’s when the Scotsman would start pacing again. 

Kyle was by your side; sitting in the chair closest to your hospital bed; his eyes never leaving you, unless it was to blink. 

His hand was hovering over yours; as though you were glass that was on the verge of shattering. 

He was terrified to touch you; but he couldn’t pull his hand away, so it just stayed there, inches above yours.

John had been in and out of the room; popping his head in to see if there’d been any changes and to make sure his partners were holding up okay, before disappearing again to make calls. 

~~~~~

Currently John was on the phone to Kate; one of the very few people he still trusted, hoping that there was some way she could find out any information about the car; or some other information that would prove Graves or Shepherds involvement. 

“It was a black SUV, windows tinted, no plates, left as soon as they veered Y/f/ns car off the road,” Kate explained, making a small frown tug on Johns lips.

He knew he needed proof before he did everything.

Kate understood his silence; she knew what he needed and she’d try her best to aid him in finding the proof that was needed, “I’ll track it through traffic cameras and see what I can find out,”

It was a long shot. 

They both knew that. 

But it was worth a shot.

Even if she could identify the driver, that would be something. 

Or if she could work out where the car was left, John and the others could go and investigate the area seeing as the car would probably be burnt or destroyed by now. 

“Thanks Kate,” John said softly; he knew that she didn’t have to do this and appreciated the fact that she was taking the time to help them.

He thought she’d end the call there; and knew by the prolonged silence that there was something else she wanted to say. 

“What is it?”

“You know if Graves or Shepherd are involved in this, Y/n won’t be safe, Y/f/n might not be either,”

A short sigh fell from John's lips as he ran a hand down his face. 

Of course he knew this. 

All he’d been able to think about since they got to the hospital was how he was going to keep you and Y/f/n safe; knowing that if Graves or Shepherd were involved they’d use Y/f/n to get to you. 

That’s why he’d been making so many phone calls; trying to sort out a safe house, somewhere safe where they could all go once they could leave the hospital.

“We’ll keep them both safe,” John stated; his voice sounding calm and collected, like it was going to be the easiest thing in the world. 

His answer made a sigh fall from Kate’s lips this time, “What if they don’t want you keeping them safe?”

Despite hating her words; John understood Kate’s concern. 

There was every possibility that you and Y/f/n would want to get as far away from all of them as possible; he couldn’t blame either of you for that.

But he just had to make you both understand that as long as Graves and Shepherd were out there that there’d be a risk to both their lives.

He wasn't going to leave you.

He thought last time that he was doing the right thing by putting distance between him and you. 

He was wrong and there was no way he was going to let that mistake happen again.

He was going to keep you safe this time; as well Y/f/n.

“Have you thought about what happens if Y/f/n doesn’t make it?”

Kate’s question hung heavy in the air. 

That was a worst case scenario he didn’t want to think of. 

He couldn’t bear to. 

Because the worst case scenario meant that Y/f/n didn’t leave this hospital….that he’d have to deliver the news to you that your best friend had died. 

You’d already lost so much; he knew it would break you if you lost Y/f/n too. 

“They’re strong,” John said simply; knowing that there was every possibility of the worst case scenario happening; but he had to remain hopeful. 

“John,” Kate began, “If Y/f/n dies, Y/n could blame you guys….”

“I know,” John replied back, guilt lacing his voice as he hung up the phone.

He wouldn’t blame you if you did. 

They may not have driven the car that caused the crash, but they were still to blame. 

He should’ve kept you at the house; should’ve let Y/f/n inside and you all could have talked…could’ve come up with a plan. 

But he didn't know that there was going to be a car chasing you and Y/f/n.

Hindsight was a wonderful thing, and if he had a time machine he’d go back and change it so that neither you or Y/f/n got hurt, but he couldn’t. 

All he could do now was be there for you and Y/f/n if they survived the surgery and keep you both safe; regardless of if either of you wanted the protection he was offering or not. 

And he was almost certain that Simon, Johnny and Kyle would agree with him.

This time when he walked back into your room at the hospital; he had no intention of leaving. 

“Any news?” Johnny asked, halting in his steps as soon as he noticed that John wasn’t just briefly popping in to check on them all. 

“Not really,” John answered, shaking his head slightly, “it was a black SUV, with tinted windows and no plates,”

He watched as Johnny's lips tugged downwards into a frown and he hated it. 

Hated that he couldn’t give anybody the answers they needed. 

“Kate’s gonna call me when she’s got more news,” John continued softly, looking at Johnny with a small reassuring smile on his own lips, hoping that his words would be enough to raise his spirits a little. 

Johnny didn’t say anything; simply nodded at John's words, but he didn’t go back to pacing this time, instead he just stared at you. 

John moved closer to the hospital bed you were on, until he was standing behind Kyle, his eyes fixed on you. 

Simon’s eyes darted from each of the men in the room before landing on you. 

A moment of silence fell across the room; each of them reflecting on how easily they could’ve lost you.

Then a small sound broke the tension that had grown in the room. 

It wasn’t much, a slight change in your breathing followed by a faint twitch in your fingers; but it was enough. 

Enough to snap all of the men out of their thoughts. 

Kyle's hand was on yours in an instant, his other hand moving to your face, his thumb delicately brushing your forehead, ensuring that he avoided touching the nasty head wound you’d obtained from the crash.

“Hey, hey….it's alright, you’re alright,” he soothed, watching as your eyes fluttered open, showing slits of your y/e/c eyes behind their slightly swollen lids.

He could already see the sudden pain turning to confusion which quickly morphed into recognition as your eyes fully opened, glancing around at everyone around you. 

“Wh…what..happ…” your words trailed off into a wince, as you tried to move, unable to do so.

“Easy, sweetheart,” John said with a calmness in his voice, moving slightly so that he was standing next to Kyle and not behind him, “you’re safe and we’re all here.”

Kyle continued holding your hand, rubbing small circles onto the back of your hand just like he used to do when you were stressed.

“What…happened? You repeated, your eyes settling on Kyle. 

“You were in a crash,”

It was like Kyle’s words triggered an instant replay of what had happened. 

You were with Y/f/n in their car. 

They were driving to your house..

Someone started following you in a black SUV, it kept crashing into the back of the car…

You’d called Simon, you were heading back to their house…until Y/f/n lost control of the car…

“Y/f/n,” you breathed out, the sheer panic for them evident in your voice as you tried to get up from the bed.

You were trying desperately to ignore the pain you felt shooting through your right shoulder, as well as your chest, all whilst trying to ignore the exhaustion that was washing over your body. 

You remembered looking at Y/f/n just before the crash…remembered seeing the fear in their eyes and it made your heart ache.

“You need to rest,” John cooed softly, sitting down on the side of the bed. 

A small groan fell from your lips as you attempted to move again; caring little for how much pain you were in, “I need to know where Y/f/n is,”

“They’re in surgery, Bon,” Johnny explained, walking over to the other side of the bed and sitting down on it, mirroring John; stopping you from getting out of the bed.

“Surgery…” your voice was barely above a whisper as you processed what Johnny said; your mind continuing to replay the moments just before the crash, “we were being followed,”

“We know,” Simon stated, turning to look at you, the phone call replaying in his mind. 

“Kate’s looking into it,” John added, hoping that his answer would help to console you. 

And they did. 

Briefly. 

Until you remembered what you’d been discussing with the very men in this room. 

The information that you’d learnt.

"Shepherd? Phillip….”

“We know they had something to do with it, we just can’t prove it yet…” John answered truthfully.

You didn’t want to believe that your Fiance had planned for this, or worse, to happen; but given what you’d found out about him…you weren’t really sure who he actually was or what he was capable of.

But was he really capable of killing you and Y/f/n?

Would there not have been other ways to do it, instead of in the middle of the day where anyone could drive by and help, and why didn't he make sure you were both dead...? 

“It’s too much of a coincidence,” Johnny continued, seeing how the doubt was growing in your eyes from Johns answer. 

“We’ll find everyone involved in this,” Kyle declared softly to you, raising your hand gently to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“And we’ll make them regret it,” Johnny assured you, anger burning bright behind his blue eyes. 

You knew by the look in the Scotsman’s eyes that his words were not a statement, they were a promise. 

Simon remained silent. 

He simply nodded his head at Johnny's words as he made his way to the Scotsman side.

His silence a promise to you that they were going to find whoever caused this crash.

“We’re not gonna let anything else happen to you, sweetheart,” John knew you were probably going to bite his head off for using the nickname he used to use when you were together for a second time, but he didn’t care. 

Maybe it was the probable concussion you’d gotten from the crash; maybe it was just because of everything that had happened today…but you actually found comfort in hearing some of the nicknames you used to be called by them. 

It made you feel safe.

They made you feel safe, despite everything that had happened.

That feeling of safety was a feeling that was short lived though; because then you heard the familiar voice of Phillip from behind the door, at first you thought you were wrong. 

You hoped you were wrong.

But when the door opened; he walked through it, his eyes meeting yours, ignoring the four other men in the room.

The concussion definitely must have been doing something to your brain, because you could’ve sworn you saw genuine worry in Phillip’s eyes when they met yours. 

Tagging:

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[bebx]

Beb the most exposure I have to squid game is from you so sorry if this is a weird question: Would Gi-hun sort of get along with Henry Creel and/Eddie Munson? Like have a shared understanding of what being forced to do things you don't want to is like? What about In-ho? Either of them?

Okay I need to talk about how alike In-ho and Henry are!

So I’m not sure if you know, but in Squid Game season 2, In-ho’s number is 001. So both him and Henry are 001.

But besides the number, they just have so much in common that it’s insane.

Both In-ho and Henry were wronged in their earlier lives by the people who were more powerful than them — while Henry was seen as “a monster” due to his differences and locked away in the lab where he then endured abuse and torture ever since he was a literal child, In-ho was wrongly accused of bribery by the higher ups when he was a cop, which led to him losing his job and everything he’d dedicated his youth to.

But it’s not just a job that he lost, so In-ho’s pregnant wife was terminally ill — she needed a surgery in order to save her life and their unborn child. In-ho couldn’t afford the surgery, that’s when his friend lended him the money that was then seen as bribery. Cue he lost his job/his source of income.

Desperate to get enough money to save his family, In-ho joined the game (Squid Game) in 2015, canon timeline. Out of 456 Players, only one could survive and walk out with 45.6 billion won.

In-ho won, having seen and gone through the worst of human nature during his time in the game (people killing each other, doing whatever it took in order to survive), but by the time he returned home with the prize money that would save his wife’s life, it was already too late. She and the unborn child died. While the people who got him fired, police who actually are corrupt, remain untouched and in power.

Cue In-ho’s belief that people are bad, people are greedy. From his own words, people are trash.

Re: Henry’s monologue: ❝You see, humans are a unique type of pest, multiplying and poisoning our world all while enforcing a structure of their own. A deeply unnatural structure. Where others saw order, I saw a straitjacket. A cruel oppressive world dictated by made-up rules. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades. Each life a faded, lesser copy of the one before. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce and die. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for it all to be over. All while performing in a silly, terrible play, day after day. I could not do that. I could not close off my mind and join in the madness. I could not pretend.❞

So Henry and In-ho share the same beliefs, same ideology.

Not only are they both victims who choose to respond to the world that has wronged them with violence, both of them also tried to help others in their shoes.

With Henry, he tried to help Eleven escape the lab, help her live the life that was robbed from him, a good life he could no longer have. In doing so, he was willing to let her leave him behind. As long as she got to live a good life and be happy, even if it meant he remained a prisoner of the lab and Doctor Brenner.

Eleven rejected him and his help. (She technically didn't, but things still went downhill; season 4 episode 7.)

Henry becomes Vecna, Eleven ends up as his enemy because she doesn’t see things the way Henry does, doesn’t agree with the way Henry responds to pain and trauma with violence and deaths of the innocent. Eleven doesn’t think people are bad.

With In-ho, he tried to urge Gi-hun into getting on that plane and going back to his daughter’s life. Tried urging Gi-hun to live the life that was robbed from In-ho, a good life In-ho could no longer have (a fatherhood In-ho could never experience), telling Gi-hun not to look back. And in doing so, In-ho was willing to let Gi-hun leave the game — leave him — behind. As long as Gi-hun got to live a good life and be happy, even if it meant In-ho remained a prisoner of the game and the VIPs.

Gi-hun turned down In-ho's advice (In-ho's attempt to help).

In-ho becomes the Front Man, Gi-hun ends up as his enemy because Gi-hun doesn’t see things the way In-ho does, doesn’t agree with the way In-ho responds to pain and trauma with violence and deaths of the innocent. Gi-hun doesn’t think people are bad.

Both In-ho’s and Henry’s stories are tragic. I’m not denying that they both have done terrible things, but their actions still do not erase the fact they are victims of the people who are more powerful than them. Henry’s a victim of the lab and Doctor Brenner, while In-ho’s a victim of the game, the VIPs and the entire system.

Thus both of them see the world and people the same way, from their own trauma, people are bad and the world is rotten.

Then you have Gi-hun and Eddie.

These two are, on the other hand, humans equivalent of Golden Retrievers.

Gi-hun isn’t as happy and cheerful as he used to be in the past, unfortunately, it’s understandable — considering everything Gi-hun went through, having lost his daughter, mother, best friend, childhood friend and everything. But before the game, Gi-hun was just this happy little dude, he was kind (he still is) and he always saw the best in people, always smiling even if life was unkind to him. Just like Eddie.

Another thing Gi-hun and Eddie have in common is that people saw them as “losers”. Eddie fell behind in school while Gi-hun was addicted to gambling. They didn’t make the best life choices, but regardless they didn’t care what people thought about them, didn’t care about social expectations, and they were happy. Literally too good for this world.

I could see Gi-hun get along and be best buddies with Eddie. While In-ho and Henry should either go see a therapist together or just talk about their shared trauma, issues and feelings.

[twistedheartsclub]

Executive Orders Male X Female Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Non-consensual sexual acts, power imbalance, grooming, forced intimacy, obsessive behavior, emotional manipulation, captivity, breeding themes, alcohol-impaired scenes, workplace abuse, misogyny, emotional blackmail. Reader discretion advised.

Her heels clicked too loud.

That was Y/N’s first thought as she walked through the sleek, silent lobby of Voss International, the kind of building that reeked of old money, litigation, and bloodless ambition. The floor gleamed so brightly she could see her reflection — pale, a little nervous, holding onto her tote like a lifeline.

She’d graduated with honors. Top of her class. Letters of recommendation. And yet here she was, delivering coffee.

"You're the new one," someone sneered behind the front desk. A woman, maybe early thirties, in all black. “Don’t bother learning names. We don’t stay long.”

Y/N smiled weakly and nodded, stepping into the elevator. Floor 49 — the top.

That’s where he was.

Nolan Voss, CEO. Forty-three. A man known more for his litigation threats than public appearances. Notoriously private, infamously impossible to work under. Rumor said he went through assistants like tissues. The only ones who stayed were the ones too scared or too smart to cross him.

Her job title was “executive assistant,” but so far, she’d fetched four lattes, sat through two meetings she wasn’t allowed to speak in, and spent the better part of the day organizing files he wouldn't even glance at.

At 11:07 AM, she knocked.

“Come in.”

His voice was a low drawl, slow and unimpressed.

She stepped inside. The office was all glass and shadows — modern, cold. Nolan Voss didn’t look up from his desk as she approached with his coffee, just held out a hand, fingers twitching impatiently.

“Three minutes late,” he muttered.

“I— The elevator—”

He looked at her then. Finally. And her breath caught.

He was beautiful in the cruelest way — lean, tall, dressed in sharp black with a tie loose around his neck like he didn’t need to impress anyone. His jaw was clean-shaven, his hair slightly tousled like he’d just raked his fingers through it. But it was his eyes that stung — pale, unreadable, bored.

“You’ll learn,” he said coldly, “I don’t care about excuses. I care about results. Are you capable of understanding that?”

Y/N’s spine straightened. “Yes, sir.”

His gaze dragged down the length of her. He said nothing. Just reached for the coffee and took a slow sip. Whatever bitterness it had didn’t show — he was good at masking what he didn’t like. But there was a pause.

A flicker of interest.

She was younger than his usual staff. Too sweet. Too earnest. The kind of girl who still thought showing up early would earn praise. He hated that kind of hope.

But something about her made him pause. The blush in her cheeks. The way she didn’t wilt. Not yet.

“You’ll also be handling document prep for the board. Filing, printing, copying—if you can’t manage that, I’ll find someone who can.”

“Yes, Mr. Voss.”

“Don’t call me that.” His voice was quiet but sharp. “My name is Nolan. Use it when it’s just us. It’s better that way.”

She blinked. “O—Okay. Nolan.”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smile. But close.

He dismissed her with a wave, already bored, already onto the next email.

But after the door clicked shut behind her, he didn’t go back to typing. He stared at the coffee she brought. At the faint smudge her finger left on the side of the cup.

Interesting, he thought. Very interesting.

A month in, and Y/N was already unraveling.

The dream internship had become a waking nightmare.

She barely slept. Her feet ached every night from errands she shouldn’t have been running. She cried twice in the office bathroom, muffling the sounds against her palm in the stall. Once she sobbed the entire train ride home, hands clenched in her lap like she could physically hold herself together.

No one noticed. No one cared.

The other interns avoided her. The permanent staff were worse. Whenever she walked into a room, conversation stalled—then resumed at a murmur, accompanied by smirks or scoffs. And Nolan…

Nolan was relentless.

He snapped at her for everything—typos that weren’t hers, emails she didn’t even send, coffee that was “too warm,” “too cold,” “too late.” She couldn’t tell if he hated her or if this was how he treated everyone, but it didn’t matter. Every morning she felt the bile rise in her throat just pressing the elevator button to floor 49.

The worst part came late one Thursday afternoon.

She’d been running printed reports down to the finance floor. A small conference room door had been left slightly open, just enough to hear the voices inside. Male voices. Nolan’s among them.

She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

But the words made her blood run cold.

“She kept pushing my buttons,” one of the men laughed—Mike, in accounting. “So I trained her. You know. Reinforcement. Now she doesn’t leave the kitchen unless I say so.”

“She still mouthing off?” another chimed in.

“Nah,” Mike chuckled. “I break her in every night. Doesn’t matter if she’s ragging or not.”

Disgust twisted in Y/N’s stomach.

Then came Nolan’s voice.

Low. Amused. Cruel.

“Sounds like you’ve got the right idea. God knows the only thing modern women are good for is housework and breeding. They want equality until you fuck it out of them.”

The room burst into laughter. And Nolan—he laughed the loudest. Head thrown back, the kind of sharp, booming sound she’d only heard when he was tearing someone down. But this time it was pure pleasure. Dark, perverse enjoyment.

Y/N backed away before anyone saw her. Her hands were shaking.

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Who would believe her? HR was a ghost. The only woman on her floor—Marla, in billing—kept her head down and barely spoke. But that day, when Y/N passed her in the hallway, the older woman stopped.

“Don’t let them break you,” she whispered, quick and low. “They tried with me, too.”

That was the first time anyone had spoken to her with kindness.

But after that day, Y/N moved differently. She avoided staying in rooms too long. Stopped making eye contact with the men who suddenly smiled too warmly. And she never, ever got into the elevator with Nolan alone.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

She was quieter now. Shaky but guarded. Wary like a little rabbit surrounded by wolves.

He liked that.

And when she slipped into his office a few mornings later with a fresh folder, still avoiding his eyes, still polite, still submissive—

He stared too long. Said nothing. But when she left?

He locked the door behind her.

And smiled.

Today was important.

The kind of day where everyone walked a little straighter, spoke a little softer, and dared not breathe wrong in the presence of the powerful.

Y/N had been summoned to the top-floor conference room to take notes — just another invisible task tacked onto her already impossible workload. She sat quietly at the long glass table, pen in hand, spine stiff as the room filled with suits and tension.

Her boss, Nolan Voss, sat at the head of the table like a king. Across from him, a foreign dignitary of sorts — a man whose name she hadn’t caught, only the thick accent that clung to his words like oil.

They laughed as they spoke, cold and detached.

She did her best to keep up, scribbling everything down. But when the conversation shifted, she froze.

The foreign man was chuckling over the numbers. “If we push the acquisition forward, you realize thousands will be without work.”

Nolan’s smirk curled. “A few thousand layoffs is a small price for streamlining. Cuts like that bring up our margin.”

They both laughed. Not a trace of shame in either of their voices.

Y/N flinched.

They weren’t talking about numbers. They were talking about people. Families. Lives.

She dared not look up, but the moment she shifted in her seat, she felt the foreign man’s gaze drag over her.

Then came a low murmur — something in a foreign tongue. She didn’t understand it, but the tone made her stomach turn.

She felt what it meant.

Nolan's face changed.

Gone was the easy smile, replaced with something cold and unreadable. He replied in the same language — slower, firmer.

She didn’t need a translator to feel the weight of it.

“She is mine.”

Y/N swallowed, uncomfortable now. The room felt smaller. Tighter. She shifted her legs under the table and kept her eyes on her notepad, pretending she hadn’t heard anything. Pretending she wasn’t there.

Eventually, the meeting ended. Hands were shaken. Agreements made.

The foreign man gave her one last lingering look as he left the room.

Then, as chairs scraped back and suits filed out, Nolan remained seated.

He glanced at her — once, sharply.

“You. Follow me.”

She didn’t speak. Just nodded and stood, gathering her things. Her heart was beating too fast. Her palms damp.

She followed him down the hall, past the murmuring assistants and the glances that always followed her, to the large glass doors of his private office.

He stepped inside first.

She hesitated.

Then—

The doors shut behind her with a deep, final thud.

The door shut with a hollow finality that made Y/N flinch.

Nolan didn’t look at her at first. He walked ahead, casually shrugging off his blazer and tossing it over the arm of his chair. His movements were calm—too calm—until he turned sharply on his heel.

And snapped.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Y/N froze mid-step.

Her voice caught in her throat. “I—excuse me?”

He stalked toward her, eyes burning like cold steel. “That blouse. That skirt. Are you trying to look like some pathetic secretary cliché, or are you just that stupid?”

Her mouth fell open slightly. She blinked at him, unsure whether to answer or walk out—but walking out wasn’t an option. Not with the way he was circling her like a predator.

“You think dressing like that makes you look professional?” he sneered. “You look like a little girl playing office dress-up. Heels too high, blouse too tight—do you even know what you’re doing when you leave the house in the morning, or do you just throw something on and pray some man finds you tolerable?”

Y/N felt the heat rising in her cheeks, both from shame and confusion. She took a step back.

“I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” he cut her off. “Didn’t think? That much is obvious every time you open your mouth. Jesus, I’ve had interns before, but at least most of them understood how to be quiet and useful. You? You walk around with that vacant look in your eyes like a kicked puppy, and you think that’s enough to earn respect?”

She stumbled back another step, her legs brushing the edge of the leather sofa. His presence loomed, towering, all-consuming. She didn’t want to sit. She didn’t want to be here.

But he didn’t give her the chance to decide.

He stepped closer, forcing her down. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she landed on the sofa with a soft whump, her notepad falling from her lap onto the floor.

She didn’t dare move.

He looked down at her then—slowly, cruelly—and let his gaze crawl over her form.

“You wear skirts like this, and you act surprised when men stare?” he muttered. “You dress like you want attention, and then you cry when you get it. Typical.”

Her lips parted. “I—I don’t want attention, I just—”

“Spare me the excuses.” His voice darkened. “You were in a room full of powerful men today, and you flinched. Like a girl. You’re in a man’s world now, sweetheart. No one’s going to protect you. No one’s going to pity you.”

Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. His words were poison, slipping under her skin. The sharp sting of humiliation burned in her chest, worse than anything she’d endured in the last month.

She tried to wipe at her face discreetly, but he caught her hand mid-motion.

And then, he crouched.

Right in front of her. On his knees.

Something shifted in his expression—not softer, but more focused. Like he was studying a work of art that didn’t yet know its worth.

His thumb brushed along her cheekbone, wiping a tear away.

“You poor, deluded thing,” he murmured. “You weren’t made for this.”

She stared at him, breath trembling, not understanding.

“Women like you…” he said, quieter now, almost reverent. “You were never meant to chase deadlines or carry briefcases. You were meant to be admired. To be protected. Soft things don’t belong in boardrooms—they belong in warm homes. In kitchens. In cradles.”

His hand lingered against her cheek.

“You should be smiling at a dinner table, not crying in my office. You should be mine. My house. My bed. My child.”

Y/N’s whole body tensed. “W-What—?”

“You think this world will ever see you as equal?” he interrupted coldly. “It won’t. And I won’t pretend otherwise. I see you for what you are.”

She looked away, ashamed of how fast her tears were falling now. Of how much his words hurt, and confused her, and dug deep into places she didn’t know were raw.

He leaned in, lips close to her ear.

“I don’t want your mind, sweetheart. I want your obedience. And the sooner you stop pretending to be something you’re not, the easier this will be.”

He stood slowly, gaze heavy.

“Go home early,” he said, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. “Think about what you want to be in five years. Still crying in office chairs? Or barefoot in silk, with someone who knows exactly what to do with you.”

And with that, he turned his back to her, walking to his desk.

Dismissed.

She sat there frozen, heart pounding, eyes blurred with tears.

For the first time, she realized the door hadn't locked when she came in.

But it might the next time.

That evening, the train ride home blurred by. She barely remembered the stops, the people, the way her hands shook in her lap the whole way. Her body moved on instinct, keys turning in the lock, bag slipping from her shoulder to the floor as soon as she stepped inside.

The apartment was small. Too small for the weight she carried in her chest.

“Sweetheart?”

Her mother’s voice came from the living room, soft and lined with fatigue. Y/N turned and found her curled up under the throw blanket on the worn-down couch, a glass of water trembling slightly in her hand. Her cheeks looked pale today, paler than usual, and her once-vibrant eyes were duller—clouded with pain and weeks of sleepless nights.

Y/N offered a weak smile, pushing the dread deeper into her chest. “Hey, Mama.”

Her mother blinked in surprise, checking the time. “You’re home early…”

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around herself, her voice steady despite the ache in her throat. “Meeting ended quicker than expected. I took the rest of the day from home.”

It wasn’t true. But what could she say?

That her boss humiliated her? Claimed her like a possession in front of a foreign investor? Touched her face and whispered things no man should say?

She couldn’t. Not when her mother was already so sick. Not when the medical bills piled higher each month and she was barely staying afloat between rent, debt, and meals.

Her mother smiled anyway. “That’s good. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Come here, I missed you.”

Y/N leaned down, letting her mother kiss her cheek. The warmth of it almost made her break.

“I’m okay,” she lied softly.

Then she straightened up, clutching the strap of her purse too tightly, and walked to the kitchen.

The moment her back was turned, her smile faded.

She exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the counter as the weight of the day pressed down on her shoulders.

You weren’t made for this.You should be mine.I don’t want your mind. I want your obedience.

She bit her lip hard, forcing the words out of her head.

No. Stop. You’re here to work. Just work. That’s it.

Her hands moved automatically, pulling out a pan, gathering vegetables from the fridge. The kitchen was dim, the light above the stove buzzing faintly, and yet she found herself moving like she had a purpose, as if dinner would be enough to fix the ugly ache inside her.

She would pretend. She would show up tomorrow like nothing happened. She would take notes, fetch coffee, sort files.

Because she had no choice.

Because she needed this job.

And because she couldn’t afford to fall apart.

Not yet.

Not until her mother was safe.

The next morning, Y/N did everything she could to disappear.

Her skirt was longer today, grazing her calves instead of her knees. The blouse was high-necked, with sleeves that hid her wrists. She even pulled her hair into a tight bun — no soft curls or glossed lips, nothing to suggest femininity or invitation. Just a body trying to survive.

The glasses weren’t by choice.

One of her contacts had slipped into the drain that morning, and she couldn’t afford a replacement. Not with overdue medical bills, student loans, and barely enough left over to eat. She hadn’t told anyone about her situation — not in full — except one person.

“Contact fell down the sink,” she muttered as she poured coffee into a chipped office mug, her fingers trembling just slightly. “And I checked. They’re not covered by my insurance plan.”

Behind her, her only friend in the office — Marla, the older woman from billing — gave a sympathetic nod.

“You still look lovely,” Marla whispered, setting her hand gently on Y/N’s back. “And don’t worry. I doubt Mr. Voss is even in today. Says on the calendar he has morning meetings offsite.”

Y/N let out a breath of relief, small and soft. “Good. I could use the break.”

She sipped her coffee and leaned against the counter, her voice dropping as the fatigue settled back over her features. “I just… I’m trying, you know? With everything. My mom’s back on the stronger meds, but they’re expensive. And I haven’t even paid last month’s. I’m the only one covering everything. Rent, groceries, her treatments, my loans…”

She didn’t cry. She refused.

But the quiet desperation clung to her words.

“He doesn't know any of it,” she finished, eyes downcast. “And I’m glad. I don’t want pity. I just want to do my job.”

What she didn’t know was that Nolan was very much in the building.

Just around the corner.

And he had heard every word.

He stood in the shadows, one hand in his pocket, the other tapping against his phone. His expression unreadable — except for the slight, amused twist of his lips.

She hadn’t mentioned yesterday.

Not a single word.

Not to the only person she trusted. Not even in passing. No whisper of protest. No call to HR. No defiance in her tone.

Just fear. Quiet endurance. Exhaustion.

And a sick, pathetic sense of duty to a job that devoured her alive.

He smirked.

That was what he liked most — she still hadn’t accepted what she was. But he had. He saw it clearly now. All he had to do was shift the world around her, just enough, and she’d fall into place like a puzzle piece.

He turned down the hall and walked away without a sound.

As he entered his office, he lifted his phone and made a quiet call.

“Send the payment. Cover everything. Anonymously.” Pause. “Yes. Hospital, pharmacy, previous balance too. All of it.”

He ended the call without another word and set the phone down on his desk.

She wouldn’t know it was him.

Not yet.

But soon… very soon, her gratitude would become a debt.

And he’d make sure she understood exactly what it cost to have her worries wiped away.

It had been two weeks since the anonymous blessing arrived.

Her mother had cried when she told her. Cried so hard she laughed through it, clutching Y/N’s hands and whispering thanks to the universe, to God, to whatever angel had intervened. Their debts were cleared. The medication was delivered ahead of schedule. A new specialist had even reached out for a consultation.

And though she still didn’t know how or why, Y/N accepted it. Maybe someone out there had heard her.

She didn't ask questions.

She couldn't afford to.

Her smile had returned, at least in fragments. Her shoulders weren’t as tight when she walked into the office. She started humming softly as she poured her morning coffee. She still dressed modestly, still kept her head down—but something warm glowed behind her eyes now, and even Marla noticed.

“You’re glowing,” she teased one afternoon.

“I guess I’m just... breathing again,” Y/N whispered back with a smile.

But the fear never fully left. Not around him.

Not around Nolan Voss.

She could feel his presence before he even entered a room. A shift in the air. A chill that spread up her spine. He hadn’t touched her since that day, not really. But he brushed against her more than before—his hand grazing her waist when passing in the hall, the flat of his palm lightly pressing her lower back when handing her a folder. It always lingered just a second too long.

He called her name randomly during the day, for tasks she wasn’t responsible for—just to watch her flinch. Just to see the way her lips parted in quiet alarm when she answered, voice breathy, unsure.

He liked that sound. A lot.

At night, Nolan came home to silence.

The penthouse echoed with the absence of something he hadn’t realized he craved. His maid greeted him at the door with a soft “Good evening, sir,” and disappeared back into her room once dinner was served. The plates were always warm. The wine always poured.

And yet, it all felt empty.

The fireplace crackled. The glass windows glowed with city lights. Everything he had built—his empire, his name—sat like a crown on a corpse.

His so-called peers had families now. Wives they trained to obey. Children they paraded through weekend brunches. He had always thought that part of life beneath him—messy, sentimental, weak.

But lately, the thought of Y/N, barefoot and round with his child, stirred something far deeper than lust.

He didn’t just want her body anymore.

He wanted her obedience, her devotion, her warm breath against his neck as she rocked their baby to sleep. He wanted her weeping with love and fear under him, whispering his name like prayer. He wanted her bound to him forever in the most primal way possible.

And God help him, the idea of fucking her full of him made his cock throb.

Harder than it had in years.

His grip tightened around the wine glass. The clink of crystal against his ring was the only sound in the room.

No more waiting.

He would find a way to fulfill every single desire. Slowly, carefully. No mistakes. No room for resistance.

She would be his.

His wife. His whore. His angel. His legacy.

And when she wept in his arms—pregnant, ruined, loved—she would finally understand that she had never stood a chance.

She hadn’t expected him to speak to her that morning. Not directly. Not like that.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Nolan said, sharp and formal, stopping in front of her desk. “You’ll accompany me this afternoon.”

She blinked, startled, her pen frozen mid-sentence. “Sir?”

He didn’t bother repeating himself. He simply turned and walked away, already expecting her to follow.

She did.

The car ride was silent. His driver said nothing. Nolan only checked his watch once, gaze flickering briefly to her reflection in the window as if already undressing her in his mind.

They arrived at a high-end boutique in the heart of the city. Velvet curtains. Private showrooms. Jewelry so expensive the guards didn’t blink.

“This,” he said, guiding her inside with a gentle pressure at the small of her back, “is for a woman I intend to impress. Help me choose something.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Of course, sir.”

At first, it was simple enough.

He held up earrings, necklaces, bracelets, asking for her opinion. She spoke softly, carefully, afraid of saying the wrong thing. But then—

“Try these on.”

She turned to him, startled. “Me?”

“Yes.” He motioned to the clerk, who handed her a velvet tray. “You have good taste. I want to see how they look on someone real.”

It wasn’t a question.

One by one, she tried on glittering pieces — delicate diamonds that shimmered like frost, sapphires that looked like something from a fairy tale. Her breath caught once at the way the light danced along a rose-gold ring, her fingers splaying slightly to admire it. Nolan said nothing, but his eyes didn’t leave her face.

Then came the dresses.

“I really don’t think—” she started, but he was already ushering her toward the fitting room.

“I do.”

“But—”

“You want to keep your job, don’t you?”

The final word silenced her.

She obeyed.

She tried on dress after dress — silk, satin, velvet. The clerk brought more at Nolan’s instruction. He sat on the velvet bench outside, eyes dark and unreadable, tracking which ones clung best to her curves, which colors made her eyes glow, which ones made her fidget nervously under his gaze.

He made mental notes of every detail.

This one for dinner.This one for when she starts to soften.This one… when she carries my child.

She emerged one final time, cheeks flushed, hands nervously tugging the hem of a pale blue number that hugged her figure just enough to make her feel exposed.

“That one,” he said, his voice low. “That one stays.”

Before she could respond, he had already stood.

Dinner was at a private rooftop restaurant — candlelight, wine, a view of the city below like scattered stars.

She didn’t eat much.

The food was exquisite, but her stomach was tight. Something about the entire day sat heavy on her chest, like she was being molded into something — a doll, a fantasy, not a person.

And then he reached into his coat and set a box in front of her.

“A gift,” he said.

She stared at it. “Sir, I—I can’t accept this.”

“You can,” he said simply, already lifting the lid.

Inside sat a diamond-studded bracelet. Dainty. Elegant. The same one she had stared at too long in the boutique.

Her throat tightened. “Please— I didn’t—”

“Wear it,” he said, cutting her off.

His hand reached across the table and took her wrist gently but firmly. She flinched, her body going still as he wrapped the cool metal around her skin. His fingers closed the clasp with a soft click, sealing it like a shackle.

“There,” he said softly, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Perfect.”

He leaned in, lifted her hand, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His lips were warm. Soft. Possessive.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, her mouth dry.

He smiled and leaned back casually, like nothing had happened.

“Now eat,” he murmured, picking up his fork again. “I hate wasting good food.”

And she did.

Silent, trembling, with a diamond bracelet glinting on her wrist and fear blooming behind her ribs.

The morning sunlight cut through the tall windows of his office like a spotlight, catching on the bracelet she still wore.

Y/N entered quietly, setting his coffee down on the edge of Nolan’s desk with her usual soft politeness. She didn’t meet his eyes, but he wasn’t watching her face this time. His gaze had already dropped to her wrist — that delicate circle of diamonds glittering against her pale skin. The bracelet he chose. The one she hadn’t taken off.

Good girl.

“You’re wearing it,” he said casually, but the warmth in his voice startled her.

She glanced down, flushing slightly. “I didn’t mean to... I just forgot to take it off last night.”

“No need to explain,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It looks right on you.”

His words sank into her, leaving ripples she couldn’t smooth over.

He was kinder today. At least, in his own way. No sharp insults. No barking commands. But he brushed against her three times before lunch. A hand on her lower back as he passed by. Fingers brushing her arm when she handed him papers. His shoulder grazing hers as they stood too close at the printer.

All of it was accidental.All of it was intentional.

By noon, her skin felt too tight.

Later that afternoon, the weekly executive meeting began.

She took her usual spot in the corner of the long conference room, notepad in hand, eyes lowered, ready to take notes. Her glasses slid slightly down her nose, and she pushed them up with trembling fingers.

Today’s discussion was supposed to be financial.

It didn’t stay that way.

“Numbers are strong for Q2,” one man said, chuckling, “but I swear, the only forecast I’ve got my eye on is my wife’s belly. Seven months in, and she’s insatiable. I’m not complaining, but damn—something about that belly just does it for me. Drives me crazy.”

There were laughs around the room. Murmurs of agreement. Someone else chimed in about his second kid and how his wife got needier the bigger she got.

Y/N stared hard at her shoes, her pen stilled mid-note. She didn’t look up, didn’t say a word. But her discomfort was obvious. Her fingers fiddled with the bracelet, sliding it up and down her wrist anxiously. She tugged at the hem of her blouse as if trying to disappear beneath it.

Nolan didn’t laugh.

He didn’t speak.

He just watched her.

Watched the way she flinched at the word “insatiable.” Watched the flush creeping up her neck. Watched how she tried to make herself small, invisible, untouched by the filth in the air.

God, she was so soft. So unaware. She didn’t belong in this room. Not with men like this. Not with wolves.

He wanted to pick her up and carry her out. Lock her away in silk and safety. Swell her belly with his child just to see if her shy little blush would survive it. He wanted to watch her body bloom — innocent, needy, and all his.

His cock pressed hard against the front of his slacks, and he shifted in his seat, jaw tight.

She still didn’t look at him.

But that bracelet sparkled as she moved her hand again — his bracelet. On his girl. Whether she admitted it yet or not.

Patience.

He’d waited this long.

But soon, she’d give him more than her wrist.

She’d give him everything.

It started with a small velvet box left on her desk.

No note. No explanation.

Inside: a pair of earrings — diamond studs with a delicate drop, glittering faintly in the afternoon light. They matched her bracelet perfectly. Too perfectly. Her fingers trembled as she touched one, heart sinking with realization.

There was only one man who would send something like this.

Nolan didn’t mention them that day. Didn’t even acknowledge that she’d opened the gift. But two days later, he approached her desk with something far worse than silence.

“There’s a charity gala this Saturday,” he said coolly. “Black tie. You’ll attend with me.”

She blinked. “Sir, I don’t think—”

“I already arranged everything,” he cut her off. “The dress, the heels, the car, the stylist. You’ll be compensated. Consider it a professional appearance.”

She hesitated.

He smiled, soft and dangerous. “You want that bonus, don’t you?”

She nodded.

She always nodded.

Saturday evening came too fast.

A car picked her up just after five. A silent driver opened the door without a word and drove her through the city toward one of the tallest hotels—its rooftop ballroom already lit up like a palace.

Before the event, she was taken to a suite.

Inside: a professional hair and makeup team waiting for her.

Nolan had arranged everything.

The makeup was subtle but transformative — warm tones to bring out her eyes, a soft flush to her cheeks, a hint of gloss on her lips. Her hair was swept back into an elegant twist, a few soft strands framing her face just right. She looked older. Softer. Expensive.

Then came the dress.

A floor-length slip of pale gold silk. Thin straps. Modest neckline, but the fabric clung to every curve — tasteful only by design. Paired with delicate heels and a tiny clutch already packed with necessities. She didn’t even have to bring her own.

A knock at the door.

Her heart stilled.

Then Nolan entered — black suit, sharp tie, hair perfectly styled. And when his eyes landed on her…

He stopped.

Slowly, he stepped closer, his gaze roaming her form from head to toe like he was unwrapping a gift already his.

“I knew it would fit,” he murmured, voice like silk. “You wear it well.”

Her throat tightened. “Thank you, sir.”

He stepped behind her and lifted something from his pocket — a thin, velvet choker necklace with a matching diamond pendant. Before she could react, he was fastening it around her neck, his fingers grazing her throat.

“There,” he whispered, breath brushing her skin. “Now you’re complete.”

The gala was blinding.

Crystal chandeliers. Endless champagne. The air smelled like money and roses. Nolan walked in with her on his arm, hand resting lightly but possessively at her waist. He introduced her to everyone — investors, board members, foreign partners — always with a casual, charming tone:

“This is Y/N, my personal assistant.”

She smiled politely, trying not to shrink beneath their stares. Their wives looked her over too long. The men smiled toowarmly. Everyone noticed the jewelry. Everyone noticed the way Nolan stood so close.

They all saw it.

She was his.

And then came the photos.

He guided her toward the press wall with the firm touch of a man used to obedience. Photographers snapped pictures of him alone at first. Then—

“You,” he said quietly, “stand beside me.”

She moved to his side.

More flashes. More cameras.

Then with colleagues. With CEOs. With city officials. And always with her.

He kept her close, smiling coolly in every frame, one hand always on her back or waist or hip. The cameras loved it. So did he.

“Just a few more,” he murmured. “I want them to remember how beautiful you looked tonight.”

She nodded, jaw clenched, heart pounding.

Later, at the table, she barely touched her food. The diamond bracelet glinted against her wrist each time she moved. The earrings sparkled. The necklace weighed on her throat like a collar.

She reached for her wine glass to steady her hand.

“Relax,” Nolan said beside her, too close. “You’re doing beautifully.”

“I didn’t know this was part of the job,” she said, her voice soft and bitter.

“It is now,” he replied smoothly.

His fingers brushed her knee under the table.

“I take care of what’s mine.”

She swallowed hard, her heart thudding against the silk inside her chest.

And smiled—because there were still cameras watching.

The gala blurred behind her like a glittering dream she didn’t want to remember.

She’d had a few drinks — enough to take the edge off, enough to breathe easier, enough to keep her smile steady as Nolan paraded her in front of every important man in the room. Champagne, wine, a cocktail handed to her by a woman with too much perfume. Y/N had sipped until her shoulders relaxed. Until the room seemed softer. Until the silence in her own head wasn’t so loud.

She was too tired to protest when Nolan guided her into the car — this time, sliding in beside her in the backseat instead of his usual place up front with his phone.

The city lights flickered outside the tinted windows. It was well past midnight.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was thick. Heated. His hand rested between them, too close to her thigh, and she stared at it without meaning to.

She shifted slightly.

So did he.

His fingers grazed her leg.

She looked out the window, cheeks warm, vision soft from the wine.

Another shift. Closer.

This time his hand didn’t just graze.

It stayed.

Long enough for her heart to skip.

She glanced at him—but he was already watching her.

And before she could speak, Nolan leaned in.

His lips brushed against hers — slow, deliberate, as if he were testing her limits. Her breath caught. Her hands came up instinctively, pressing against his chest, but her body didn’t fight. Her head was heavy. Her thoughts slow.

“Wait—” she breathed, but the word was quiet. Weak.

His mouth moved to her neck, hot and unrelenting, kissing down to the hollow of her throat as his hand slipped further up her thigh. She tensed, trembling beneath him, but still didn’t say no. Not clearly. Not like before.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t move.

She didn’t resist.

So he kissed her again.

Deeper this time.

And she kissed him back.

Soft. Hesitant. Confused.

His hands moved to her waist, pulling her toward him, and he shifted over her, climbing halfway into her seat. His weight settled against her body like a decision already made.

“You taste like wine and fear,” he murmured into her skin.

Her breathing hitched, her fingers gripping the lapel of his jacket, not pulling him closer — but not pushing him away, either.

Outside, the world rushed by.

Inside the car, her silence was the answer he’d been waiting for.

The car’s hum faded beneath the sound of her pulse.

Nolan's mouth devoured the soft skin of her neck, trailing heat along the fragile line of her throat, then down to the curve of her collarbone where the necklace he gave her still rested — his mark.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispered, his lips brushing her skin like silk. “Just let go. Let me.”

She didn’t speak.

She couldn’t.

Her thoughts were a blur — wine and hands and velvet seats and his mouth kissing places she hadn’t offered. His scent was all around her — expensive, warm, and wrong. His hands were under the thin silk of her dress now, palms flat against her thighs, thumbs grazing higher.

Y/N gasped softly, her head falling back against the seat, exposing more of her throat.

He took it as an invitation.

Nolan leaned forward, kissing her jaw, her cheek, then capturing her mouth again, deeper this time. He swallowed her protest before it could form, his hand gripping her thigh possessively.

When she moved — hesitating — he growled low against her lips.

“No running now,” he muttered. “You’ve been mine since the day I saw you. This… is inevitable.”

His hand slid higher, under the hem of her dress, the heat of his skin burning into her. Her hips shifted against the leather seat, not to pull him closer — but not to stop him either.

And that killed him.

“Look at me,” he breathed, pulling back just enough.

Her lashes fluttered open, wide and dazed, her lips swollen from his kiss. She looked afraid. She looked confused. She looked perfect.

He reached up, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers, then dragged his thumb across her lips.

“I take care of you,” he said. “I give you everything. This is mine, too.”

She blinked slowly, still trembling, as his mouth dipped to her chest, kissing along the edge of her neckline, lips grazing the top of her breast through the silk.

“Nolan…” she whispered, voice barely audible.

He groaned at the sound of his name in her voice — fragile, uncertain, but real.

“Say it again,” he murmured against her skin. “Say my name.”

Her breath hitched.

His hand was on her hip now, pulling her fully beneath him. The hem of her dress was riding up, pooling around her thighs. His body caged hers in the seat, eyes locked on hers.

“Nolan,” she whispered again, soft and scared and aching.

He smiled, dark and triumphant.

“That’s my girl.”

Her breath hitched as Nolan leaned over her completely now, his frame blocking out the rest of the car. The weight of him, the closeness — it stole the air from her lungs. She had nowhere to look but up at him, nowhere to go but further beneath his shadow.

The silk of her dress bunched at her waist, his knee between her legs. One of his hands pinned her hip down while the other slid along the curve of her inner thigh, deliberately slow, deliberately unavoidable.

“You’ve been walking around like you don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered darkly, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “In that office. Every day. Acting like you’re just another intern. But this body, this mouth—this was made to serve something better than paperwork.”

She tried to move, but his hand tightened — not painfully, but enough to remind her who held the power.

“You want to be useful?” he murmured. “You want to earn what I’ve given you? Then don’t fight this. Don’t deny me.”

She didn’t speak.

Not because she agreed.

But because her voice had left her. Stolen by confusion and panic and the feeling of his hand now sliding up under the delicate lace of her panties. Her thighs trembled.

Nolan pressed his forehead to hers, his breath ragged now. “You’re soft, do you know that? So soft it hurts to look at you.”

He kissed her again, bruising now, swallowing the gasp that escaped her lips as his fingers grazed the most vulnerable part of her. She jerked beneath him, not in invitation—but not in rejection either.

And that made him crazy.

“You’re shaking,” he growled, dragging his lips along her jaw. “Is it fear, or is it something else?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He slid his fingers slowly, deliberately, and groaned when he felt just how unprepared she was — but he didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. His mouth was everywhere now — her throat, her shoulder, the strap of her dress pushed down as he kissed the curve of her chest. He wasn’t asking. He was taking.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “This body is mine. I’ll fill it, claim it, own it. And you’ll take it because you were made for this—made for me.”

He gripped her wrists, pinning them over her head, and looked down at her flushed, helpless face — hair fallen out of its elegant twist, makeup smudged from the heat of his touch. His diamonds glittered on her wrist, around her throat, in her ears.

She looked like a gift he’d already unwrapped.

“You’re going to carry my name,” he said darkly, “and then you’ll carry my child. And when you cry, I’ll be the one to kiss the tears off your cheeks.”

His voice dropped to a possessive growl.

“I want you ruined. Pregnant. Dependent. Devoted. And when the world looks at you, they’ll see nothing but mine written all over your skin.”

And still, she didn’t speak.

The silence was its own answer.

He would take everything.

And she would be grateful for what he gave in return.

The sheets were too soft.

The air too quiet.

Y/N stirred, her throat dry, mouth sticky with the taste of last night’s wine and something bitter she couldn’t place. Her head pounded. Her limbs ached.

She blinked slowly, squinting against the warm morning light pouring through tall windows she didn’t recognize. A crystal chandelier hung overhead. The ceiling alone looked more expensive than her apartment.

Her stomach dropped.

This isn’t my bed.

She sat up too quickly — her body screaming in protest. Her thighs burned. Her hips were sore. And beneath the silk sheet, her skin was bare.

She groaned, one trembling hand coming up to her forehead.

No, no, no—

Last night hit her all at once.

The car. The kiss. His weight above her. Her voice whispering his name. Her legs parting because she didn’t say no fast enough. Her silence mistaken as consent — or maybe never cared for at all.

The flash of how he entered her, slow and deep, how he whispered into her skin like he’d waited a lifetime to claim her—

She shuddered, clutching the sheet to her chest.

Her heart hammered as she scanned the room. Nolan wasn’t there.

She spotted her phone on the floor by the nightstand, screen down. Scrambling from the bed, she snatched it up and checked the time.

11:43 AM. Sunday.

God, I slept here?

The shame came hot and fast.

Her dress was in a heap on a velvet chair, one strap torn. She didn’t even remember when it had been ripped off. She threw it on anyway, skipping her undergarments, slipping her heels into her hands as she crept barefoot toward the door.

The hallway outside was quiet.

Too quiet.

This house — this mansion — was enormous. Marble floors. Gilt-framed paintings. Polished furniture untouched by dust. She crept past closed doors, each one feeling like it might hold something watching her from the dark.

Then she heard it.

A voice.

Low, commanding, cold.

Nolan.

She followed it — cautiously — until she reached a doorway cracked open just enough.

She peeked inside.

He stood by the window, facing away, phone to his ear.

And what she heard made her blood run cold.

“She’s finally softened,” he said quietly. “Last night changed everything.”

A pause.

“No, she won’t fight me. She won’t risk what I’ve done for her. She knows what she owes me now.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

“She’s too sweet. Too soft. She needed to be broken in a little — now she’ll follow.”

His voice dropped lower. Darker.

“I’ll have her living here by next month. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Her heel slipped against the floor.

The slight tap echoed louder than thunder.

Nolan turned slowly.

Their eyes met.

His expression didn’t shift. He didn’t flinch. He only ended the call and set the phone down with perfect calm.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice deceptively smooth.

Y/N backed away a step, clutching her shoes to her chest like a shield.

“I—I didn’t mean to overhear—”

“You weren’t meant to,” he replied softly, stepping toward her. “But now that you have…”

Another step. Calm. Measured.

“You understand exactly where you belong.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t ask what she’d heard.

He just stepped forward with that same unnerving calm, the one she’d come to fear more than his temper. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak — to say anything — but his hand cupped her jaw, and he leaned in, kissing her lips gently. Slowly. Like they were lovers. Like last night was something shared.

His thumb brushed her cheek.

“You were good to me,” he whispered against her lips. “You were mine.”

She didn’t know what to say.

Her lips trembled as he pulled away, watching her with a look so warm it made her skin crawl.

“You should shower,” he said softly. “Take your time. There are clothes laid out for you on the bed. Everything you need is already there.”

He kissed her forehead like a reward, then turned and walked back down the hall, as if nothing was wrong at all.

The bathroom was like something out of a magazine.

Marble floors. Heated towel rack. A rainfall shower behind glass panels. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and something more expensive than she could name.

She stepped inside slowly, toeing off her heels, her hands still shaking.

Everything she could possibly need had already been placed neatly on the counter — her brand of face wash. The shampoo she’d run out of last week. Even the exact shade of the lip balm she kept in her purse. Toothbrush, toothpaste, body lotion… all of it.

How did he know?

How long has he been watching me?

She stood under the warm spray of the shower for what felt like forever, scrubbing her skin until it felt raw. Her thighs still ached, her chest still throbbed where his mouth had lingered. She closed her eyes and let the water run over her face, as if it could wash away the feeling of him.

Was this love? Is this what it feels like to be cared for… or owned?

Her fingers gripped the edge of the tiled wall.

She wanted to cry. She didn’t.

When she returned to the bedroom, the clothes were already waiting on the freshly made bed.

A white blouse, soft and feminine, with tiny buttons at the collar. A pale pink skirt — short, too short — with a modest flare, like something sweet a housewife would wear. Beside them, a pair of cream-colored slippers and a delicate hair ribbon.

No bra. No underwear.

She hesitated.

Then dressed, her face blank, movements mechanical. She kept tugging the hem of the skirt down, hating how it clung to her hips, how it reminded her of last night. The slippers made her steps soundless as she left the bedroom, entering the hall again with a knot in her stomach.

The air in the house was warm. Familiar. Dangerous.

And somewhere, Nolan was waiting.

The living room was eerily quiet except for the low hum of the television.

Y/N stepped in slowly, the soft soles of her slippers making no sound as she walked across the marble. Her damp hair clung to the back of her neck. She kept tugging her skirt down, the hem refusing to stay where she wanted it.

On the screen, a reporter’s voice played over images of panicked workers gathered outside a corporate office.

“—massive layoffs announced this morning following the acquisition by Voss International. Sources estimate over 3,000 jobs will be cut by the end of the quarter—”

She bit her lip hard, staring.

Her stomach twisted. Nolan had mentioned something like this in passing once. Ruthless efficiency. Trimming the fat. Now it was reality.

Three thousand people.

Gone.

Just like that.

And she was in his house.

Her body flinched as she heard the soft clink of china behind her.

She turned sharply.

Nolan stood just behind her, carrying a silver breakfast tray — coffee, eggs, fresh fruit, toasted bread sliced perfectly.

She hadn’t heard him approach.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle, his voice low and amused. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He walked past her like it was the most normal thing in the world and set the tray gently on the coffee table, then sank into the large couch and patted the cushion next to him.

“Sit.”

She hesitated.

His smile faded slightly.

“Now.”

Y/N obeyed.

She perched stiffly beside him, hands folded in her lap until he nudged the tray closer.

“I had it made just for you,” he said. “You didn’t eat last night. You need your strength.”

She nodded slowly, reaching for the fork.

Her hand shook as she picked at the eggs, eating small, quiet bites. The coffee was hot. Too bitter. But she drank it anyway. Anything to keep her mouth busy. Anything to keep him happy.

Nolan watched her.

He didn’t eat. Just sat there, one arm draped along the back of the couch, eyes fixed on her like a man admiring a painting he already owned.

“You look sweet like that,” he murmured after a while. “In my house. In my clothes. Eating from my hand.”

Y/N swallowed, the food heavy in her throat.

She nodded, but her stomach was in knots. Every bite made her feel sick.

He leaned closer, brushing her hair from her shoulder, his fingers warm against her neck.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

She took another bite.

Because not eating felt like more of a risk than forcing it down.

How would she escape?

@cutelittlesugarfairy @lilyalone @alebrasil0101 @amanduhh1998 @bananaasfordewin @rachfart @hopingtoclearmedschool

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Your horus x very stressed reader post is rotating so much in my mind.

So have some scenarious that have popped into my mind.

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

The serfs going through different stages of opinions:

"ugh she is so incompetent. At least she isn't mean"

"oh she is trying. Why was she put in charge without anyone to guide her."

"Oh no, our lady is going to die from stress at this rate."

And more.

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

Horus decides to have a few 'vacation' days with his wife.

Day two she is very sick because after so much stress all the possible bugs her body might have accumulated but was unable to deal with from stress are now being dealt with.

-----------

Horus takes his wife on a date. She is performing the being a good wife but slowly relaxs

Horus ends ups mentioning off hand that she should try a bit harder, while talking about different things.

Lady yn goes back to performing the act of being a good wife, now uncomfortable, unhappy and self-conscious. And wanting to leave.

Either Horus doesn't notice or when he notices he doesn't know how to fix it because he doesn't know what was the thing he said that caused that.

Following this. Lady yn trying to work through exhaustion or the start of being ill and just fucking collapsing on her desk.

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

Horus trying to play with his wife's hair and different possibilities:

a bunch, not a lot, falling off.

Him seeing grey hairs, I'm sure he wouldn't know that stress causes grey hairs.

The hair texture is different.

The scalp feels weird?

All of the above

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

Somehow horus learns what prolonged high amounts of stress can do to a human and panics.

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

Lady yn just missing home so much, even if she still loves her husband she starts to resent the relationship itself, and maybe him too just a tiny bit, and regretting meeting him.

One dat Writing down her thoughts on a diary of sorts, or a sparenotebook, that se may or may not feel bad about.

Horus finds it and starts snooping. Even if it is clearly private.

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

THIS! ALL OF THESE THINGS ARE FREAKING LEGIT!

Geez, I'm so glad you shared these with me, because these things are the ones I wanted to point out!

Horus wife is becoming miserable that even waking up and realizing that no, it is not a dream, you are indeed Lady Lupercal, and yes, you still need to fix all those monetary issues that are, in fact, part of your job.

I'm going to go on all of these because they are GOLD:

1) Yes, like YES YES YES. The serfs know that she was struggling with this position from the beginning, and this can cause some trouble for them. But she's trying, okay? She's trying to be a good lady, acting nice to them, trying to mold and play the act, but everyone can see that she's slowly crumbling.

Also, 100 points if she's hearing all of this and just walks away because she knows that this is just true.

2) It's a cute thing, okay? a small escapade, a small run away in some nice place (Fulgrim suggested it, helping to bond more with her)—enough to forget! But the situation is already so bad that a few days on a beach is not like that can help. Also, as soon as she sets foot back on Terra, the problems will come back, so…

3) On his part, Horus did try to make a nice night for both of them. Again, was this maybe suggested by his sons? Like, "You should need a small date! Clear your evening, spend time with your wife!"

I would go with the option that he did not notice it because, in his mind, he just wanted to help her! He didn't mean anything bad! I mean, of course he knows that she's doing her best; she just needs to try a littleharder!

But he will notice, of course...when she collapsed like a dead body in front of everyone, like her brain just shut down in front of all his sons, while he still held her hand, still trying to process the event.

4) ALL…ALLLLL. Things went wild when he heard her crying in front of her vanity, a bunch of her hair stuck in her brush, and the clear view of her scalp.

She'll start wearing some veil on her head, while he'll try to present the issue with some apothecary, hoping for a solution.

5) The realization, when he realizes that all of these are not some strange illness, is not something that you could have gotten on that vacation; this is all happening because you're struggling with your work. He'll start to ask questions, asking about her personal serf and people around her. Then he remembers that date, and his brain just goes wild.

6) He'll do it. He knew about that diary, the one you kept on yourself, that no one touched.

He took it, and he read it, because he wanted to know how deep the thing was going.

He learned about your true emotion, how you started to develop some resentment about everything, about him, and he doesn't know how to react to it.

He failed you? But how come? He did everything right.

How could it be that he was the cause of your pain?

[lostintransist]

Chiseled Heart | Part 10

When a Heart Hates

AO3 | Part 1

Waking to the sounds of birds, and the quiet shifting of other living things, is one of the most gentle awakenings you have ever experienced. The warmth still lingered in your flesh from König’s hold on you from the fire pit last night. He had delivered you to your room with such soft strength it took so much energy not to cry right into his shoulder that you loved him. The famous line from Mr. Darcy drifted through your mind now, “I never wish to be parted from you from this day.”

Alcohol turned you into such a sap. You couldn’t chance bleeding all over him if he didn’t feel the same. Losing the incandescent joy of his friendship? Unthinkable. All you needed was a sign, something to push you violently into the wind. Hope to god you can fly.

A knock sounds at the door.

Pushing out of bed you shuffle to the door. Pulling it open you find König dressed in slacks and a relaxed-fit long-sleeved t-shirt. He glances up and down your bedtime leggings and overlarge tee slipping off one shoulder and folding his arms. Staring pointedly at his tits and not yours, he speaks.

“Walk?”

“I could use a short walk.” You rub both hands over your face as you say more, “If we handle breakfast today we don’t need to make food again for another two days. That work for you?”

“Ja.”

Blinking the clarity back into your vision you find König’s face is red and still staring at his arms across his chest.

“I need maybe ten minutes. Should I meet you downstairs or knock on your door?”

With a sigh that brought to mind a put-upon pup, König muttered something you thought was downstairs. It didn’t matter though because he turned around and silently walked to the stairs.

Fighting back the giggle tugging at your lips you do your best to meet the timeline you gave yourself. Hair settled, as much as is possible with hair, sunscreen applied, workout clothes on, and shoes in hand you find König waiting for you on the porch. Someone must have dragged a few chairs from the fire pit because you didn’t remember seeing them on your way in yesterday.

Sitting next to him in the cool balm of the morning sun you tie your laces and stand with a stretch. He watches. The scrape of his eyes on the sliver of your soft bits sends shivers down your arms. Okay, body. Enough of that. You have another week before ovulation hits, knock it off.

Turning you offer him a hand.

“Ready to go and look for cool bugs?”

König sighs, a smile toying at his lips, as he settles his hand in yours. It should be noted that several cool bugs were found on the walk.

Breakfast of omelets came together easily and the small touches you could sneak in? Spectacular. König manned the stove and the pan. You would rest a hand on his back and lean around his side to set a bowl of chosen ingredients for the next one being made. Might as well take advantage of the stationary man.

He gets you back though. Him and those fucking pecs.

After breakfast is cleaned up everyone heads to their rooms to change and grab towels and head to the lake. Amara and you chat on the way down the stairs and out the back door. When you make it to the back porch you set your towel along the rail and turn at the exact right moment to get a show.

König, standing alone and closer to the fire pit, takes off his shirt. Your jaw drops.

Firm muscles ripple under scar-littered skin. His back is broader than any of his semi-tight shirts led you to believe. You could stand behind him as he knelt and hid the width of your hips in his shadow. Watching his arm flex as he lifted a bottle of sunblock nearly had your eyes popping from your skull to bark after him like a dog.

Amara is giving you a hard side-eye. “You’re drooling.”

“You’re damn right I’m drooling, you can see him right?” The wide-eyed glace you send between those biteable back muscles has the drool pooling harder.

Danielle appears, leaning across her girlfriend’s shoulders. “Gotta say the lack of ass is a bit of a put-off for me,” she prods casually.

“Good thing he’s not into polyamory then huh?” You stick your tongue out with a glare before moving to join him near the chairs.

You offer to spray his back. König smiles, the scar on his cheek pulling all your attention. Sticking to him like the sunblock you blast over his spine, the morning slips away. He helped you into your life vest after you buckle it wrong three times trying to figure out where each strap went after it disappeared behind your back. He did not require help for his life vest. Granted, he did bring his own.

The two of you were the first ones dragged behind the boat. And the first ones launched nearly into space before hitting water that turned to concrete. The distance between you meant you couldn’t chat. You waved and blew König a kiss instead. Then panicked when he went face down in the water for several long seconds. He doesn’t answer your question when you are both settled on the boat.

He bumps your head lightly with his while muttering something in German you choose to take as ‘don’t worry about it.’

The morning slips away with laughter and the alternating experience of shockingly cold water and baking in the sun. When lunch finally rolls around everyone from the boat changes places with the group of late risers. König is limping. You know he has a bad knee and only now realize he shouldn’t have gotten on the tubes with you.

“Hey, let’s get you some painkillers and a nap, yeah?” You slot yourself under his arm, pulling him close with a hand on his other hip.

“That,” he winced as he shifted his weight forward, “might be wise.”

Settling him in bed after hearing his grunts and groans of changing out of his swimsuit settled something in your chest that ached at his struggle.

Letting your fingers drift over his cheek, you whispered to his already-closing eyes.

“Sleep well.”

The silent ‘I love you’ stayed in your chest, thrashing like a trapped songbird.

König freezes, hand on the doorknob, as your voice drifts in from the porch’s open window. He did not nap often and only managed an hour of rest. You did not know he was awake.

“König? I really like him.”

Your words are full of soft meaning that slaps at him; beating against his skin like the hands of the children who would laugh and pinch him. Even when he was small he had been too big.

“What about him though?” It’s your friend, Danielle, “While, yes, he is built, he doesn’t say much.”

“He seems to treat you well. I guess what we are saying is that we are concerned. He is nothing like your usual type and I want to be sure this isn’t a rebound.” That is Amara, Danielle’s girlfriend.

His hand is starting to cramp around the round knob. He relaxes his hold—nothing in life was built with him in mind. König knows he should move, leave, make his presence known, something. The deepest parts of him, those bits hidden that would flourish if only a spare drop of love could find its way down, made him stay silent and still. No one else had been in the house when he’d woken to use the restroom. The openness of the floor plan would alert him to anyone entering the back door. And so, he stayed.

An annoyed huff leaves your mouth as you must shift in your chair, cloth shifting against the wood. He can imagine you, arms folded tight as you force your shoulders down.

“He is kind, and not only to me. Mara, just yesterday he paid for a stranger’s tank of gas when we stopped to fill up. I hopped out to use the bathroom. There was someone in there so I happened to glance outside and see him getting hugged by a sobbing man with his hand still pressing something to the machine. The two receipts for gas confirmed what happened. He buys gift cards every time he goes to the grocery store and leaves them with the cashier to use for the next needy person who has to put things away.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

“My usual type is pretty. But pretty men only bring pain. König isn’t pretty.”

König had been stabbed several times, your words punched him with the same force. He shifted his weight to move away, deepest soul shriveling further at the imaginings of your harsh words.

“Have you ever had someone become beautiful before your eyes?”

Your friend must nod or respond in some way he can’t see because you go on.

“He is striking. König’s face is my favorite thing to look at because every time I look he has become more beautiful to me. There is a scar here,” you must be pointing somewhere on your face. Lord knows how many scars he has mapping the landscape of his. It is one of the reasons that he wears a mask even now, though leaving it at home this weekend had been a personal challenge. “That whites out when he smiles big. It’s beautiful.”

Something unfurls in his chest, a desert plant tasting rain.

Danielle again, “But this isn’t a rebound?”

“I don’t see how it can be? He doesn’t know I like him this much; honestly, I would be happy being his friend. If he got a girlfriend I would sob myself to sleep for a few weeks as I make friends with her,” you sniff and clear your throat.

“Ah, hun,” Amara croons at you, “You’ve got it bad for him.”

The watery laugh you let out trails König as he slips away to the front door and away from the private conversation.

Your apartment is empty. Seething rage fills him. It wasn’t supposed to be empty. Your calendar had you home. Home. Home. HOME.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HOME.

The shattering of glass pulls him back. A plant has been sacrificed to his rage. Adding to the insult of your missing presence he pees all over the soil and your plant. Should teach you to not update your calendar like you should.

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist | Taglist

Dividers

@ang3lc @warlike-morning @demothers-empty-blog @comat0se @littlelovebug98 @adriennepoison @MedievalPersephone2 @fool-0nthehill @ohdearestmimi

[caffeineaddictedturtle]

Is this what you call self-care?

idol!Felix × afab!Reader genre: fluff, slice of life, established relationship warning(s): usage of curse words, no beta we die like man an: i explain it here

It was a regular Saturday for you, waking up at 6 AM and feeling your boyfriend's arm around you. After you turn your alarm off, you turn to look at him, smiling. His long, blond hair fell into his angelic face. It is so hard to not say fuck it and stay in bed with Felix, but you—with the smallest of movements to not wake him—get out of bed, making your way to the bathroom to get ready. After you get yourself into some comfy stay-at-home-and-study clothes, you brew yourself a cup of coffee with some coconut milk.

You've been researching for your midterm paper for a while now. It wasn't the worst topic, but selecting what's important and what isn't is where you were hopeless.

After restarting it for the hundredth time, you heard movements from your bedroom. You peeked out of the study/gaming room to see Felix's tired face, which filled your heart with warmth. "Good morning, love. How did you sleep?" He looked back at you while he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "I slept well until some gremlin left from next to me way too early this morning." A smile crept up his face, reaching out for your hand so he could pull you in for a hug. He kept you close with one hand, resting his face on your head while you hid in the crook of his neck. His sweet scent filling your nose. "How's your university work going?" you scrunch your face, not even wanting to think about the research and writing your essay. "Well, I read a lot, but I do not know where to begin or what things are the necessities to put into my paper." You felt yourself wanting to throw a tantrum like the 5-year-old who you are at heart. He kissed your forehead, then put his pinky out. "Okay, I have a trade offer; once you're halfway done, we can play on our farm together." Your eyes lit up. You've been pretty hooked on Stardew Valley for a while now, especially since the new update, and you got Felix to play with you on his days off. Sadly, they've been pretty busy with their comeback, so you couldn't hang out as much. He usually got home by the time you were asleep, and you went to class or to the library to learn before he woke up, since it was soon time for your final exams. You only have one year back from your university, and you don't want setbacks, so it is important to get a good grade. Your parents would be pleased as well since you flew to another city to learn specifically there, so you want to make them proud. You link your pinkies together to form an unbreakable promise. "Okay, but no distractions! If you want to play, please play in the living room; we both know I won't ever finish my assignment with you distracting me." He chuckles and nods his head in agreement. You happily made yourself another cup of coffee, then went back to the study to work on your task. You still cannot believe it that you somehow snagged such a perfect man: he is supportive, understands your concerns, and can always accept your compromises. He openly talks to you about how he feels and bravely tells you if something bothers or concerns him. You honestly can't believe these past couple years have been real.

You've made a bit of progress; it helped that you talked with your old dorm roommates—you moved in with Felix about half a year now; you two realized that it would be the easiest since you went over any given chance anyways. They gave some good suggestions. Once you caught up with each other, you four said your goodbyes, since all of you have a lot of work to get done by the end of this month. After some time, you smelled a sweet scent coming from the kitchen. The door opened before you could sneak out to have a peek. Felix brought in your favorite cookies; it was a mixture of his classic chocolate chip and your oatmeal cookies recipe. You two perfected it while he got some time off, and you didn't have school just yet. His brown eyes looked at you proudly behind the plate of cookies with milk in his other hand. "How's your progress, baby?" He bent down to give you a peck on the lips. You waited until he put the plate and the cup down, then patted the ground next to you, signaling for him to sit down. He didn't waste any seconds, and plopped right next to you, happy that he could sit beside his girlfriend. Felix didn't want to make you feel pressured; he just wants to spend as much time as possible with you before he has to go back to endless dance practice, content creation, etcetera. You both know he loves doing what he does, but it can get overwhelming sometimes. They got cussed out a lot for the smallest of things, getting bullied and going as far as getting death treats. He was grateful for being able to work his dream job, and he is also happy that you understand what this kind of life comes with.

Felix watched you type your thoughts out in your document and started to play with your hair, which made you relax instantly. You couldn't help but melt into his touch. You leaned onto his shoulder, feeling exhausted. "I am almost done with half of my assignment; I just need another page, but I feel like my brain cells are giving up on me." He chuckled, placing a kiss on your head. "You got this; I believe in you." He started giving kisses all around your face, which soothed your tired thoughts. Felix eventually kissed your lips; the kiss was sweet and made you feel like you're under the sun at the beginning of the spring. You reciprocated immediately, feeling as though time had stopped—no tasks, no school, no pressure—just you and him tangled together in a complete state of Nirvana. Before it could get heated, Lixie pulled away, holding you firmly, so he kept up his strenght to not distract you further. "Is it okay if I play Zelda while I lay in your lap?" You saw a hint of pink on his face, making you smile. "Well, I am close to finishing it, so why not? I don't think it can cause any harm." Felix got up excitedly to get his switch with his headphones. He laid down and got comfortable, then started playing his game. He has been quite into it lately. The game was beautiful, and there were a lot of things to do. The excitement in him got you into playing it, asking for his help in some harder situations.

When you got done with half of your paper, you looked down and saw a sleeping Felix with a gaming console on the ground next to him. He looked so peaceful like this: his pink lips parted, his eyelashes casting shadows on his face, and his freckles painting constellations onto his features. You can't help but start connecting the dots on his face with your fingers, making his eyes flutter as he awakens. "What are you doing, gorgeous?" You lean down to kiss him as a response. You feel like you're going to explode with all the feelings inside your chest. "I am done with half of my paper; I didn't want to wake you, sorry." You pout just a little, earning a smile as he reaches for your face to caress it. "That's my good girl. Are you ready for some farming time?" You nod, knowing that you're going to end up either playing until the sun gets up again or none at all and will end up cuddling in bed.

You two made some lunch and plopped down besides each other. Your desks have been set against one another, his PC taking up one desk while yours is cluttered by notes and books for your university courses; you just keep pushing it back each time you take your laptop out instead of organizing it. Felix tried to reason with you or help with that mess, but that's how you were, looking unorganized yet knowing exactly what is where, always on point. That's what your grades always reflect: perfect or almost perfect scores, even though you procrastinate until the last minute. He smiled to himself, knowing how he and the boys wished they had this superpower.

You put on your two's favorite chill playlist and booted up the game. We made a lot of progress, stopping to occasionally show physical affection for each other or taking a quick bathroom or snack break. I didn't even notice how the time flied until you looked down on your watch, seeing that it had passed five a.m. "Yongbok, we have a problem. Have you checked the time?" He has been so into the game that he almost looked up into the corner to see the in-game time, realizing that this might become a problem in the future. "Oh shit, I didn't notice when it got this late. I mean, I am going to be okay; I won't work for a couple of days now, but when do you need to send this assignment in?" he asked, knowing damn well that you have a habit of sending in your tasks with one minute left on the clock, giving him a scare. One time, Chan got to see your study progress and felt his soul leave his body. He still remembers how he and Han watched how their leader scolded you about your academics and your attitude towards your learning, painting a picture of an overworked father lecturing his rebellious daughter, who—no matter what she's doing—will always be his treasure. It never got said out loud, but you became the younger sister of the group, with all the older members looking out for your happiness and safety. And Felix isn't sure that if you two ever break up—which, let's face it, is highly unlikely—he wouldn't get the shorter stick and wouldn't get scolded.

Once you two saved and logged off for the day, got ready for bed, you snuggled close to each other leaving sweet kisses on one another, fighting the strong urge to sleep. When he heard your breathing change, he knew that you were fast asleep, what he waited for all along. It makes him happy and calm, knowing you are asleep. He pressed a light kiss on your forehead.

"Good night, my love," and with that, he dozed off to sleep as well.

masterlist ║request something

[sydwritess]

The Life of Racing Pt. 2

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: through it all, the racing, the media, the meetings. What matters to Lando the most is you. His home life is just as important as track life. Some days, he doesn't balance it easily. But through it all, the both of you try. Going through some challenges, but always coming out together, hand in hand again.

Second Person POV

Notes: my first F1 series! Requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05

You woke up early to your alarm. You pick your phone to turn it off. You look at the time 5:30 a.m.

You get up slowly, the sun slowly rising. You go over to your suitcase which was in the corner of the room, getting a pair of clothes out for today.

You turn back around to walk to the bathroom, only to find Lando in your bed. You quickly rush over to him, shaking him awake.

"Lando! You need to leave."

"What? Why?"

"You need to go, you didn't wake up early like you said!" You say, pulling the covers off of him.

"So?"

"So you could get caught leaving my god damn room."

"So I could just say we were talking about work." He said, smirking and standing up.

"At 5:30? In your clothes from yesterday? Seriously?"

"What? I do have multiple shirts you know. I could say I have extras."

"Go, now. I'll just- see you at work." You say, walking into the bathroom and changing.

"Jeez, you act like you have a secret boyfriend or something." He said through the door.

You open the door slightly, brushing out your hair. "Not funny."

"It's a little bit funny." He said, stepping closer to you.

"Not. Funny."

"Relax, you're too... high strung." He said calmly wrapping his arms around your waist.

"And what are you going to do when you get fired? Get hired by Nascar?"

"I could." He shrugged.

"Cute."

"I know I am." He says, smiling sweetly.

You continue doing your hair. Lando still clinging on to you like your going to fall off the face of the earth. You make your way out into the kitchen area, grabbing water and some food today, packing your work bag to leave.

"You should seriously leave." You say.

He sighs deeply. "I know, I know." He says, going over to the door and getting his shoes on.

"I'll see you at work." You say. He walks over to you, pulling you into a big hug.

"I'll see you there." He says quietly. You can't help but giggle at him.

He pulls away from the hug, walking over to the door and quickly leaving.

You finish packing the last of your things, giving Lando time to get down the hallway at least. You walk over to the door, putting your shoes on, grabbing your keys and heading out of your room.

You walk down the hallway, stopping in front of the elevators in the middle. You quickly go on your phone, going through notifications as you click the button on the elevator. It slowly rises down to your floor and opens.

You walk in, still on your phone, you go to press the lobby button but noticed it's already lit.

"Morning stranger." A deep voice says. You turn your head to see Lando and Oscar standing there.

"Morning." You say.

"Late night, early morning?" Lando asks. You look at him confused. Really, confused.

"What?" You genuinely ask confused.

"Are you two okay?" Oscar asks, looking between you and him.

"Yeah, well I'm just asking a question. We do work together right?" Lando says.

"Right." Oscar says slowly.

"Well, I see your fashion sense has changed." You say, looking at Lando's clothes. He has on a matching leather jacket with pants.

"What does that mean?"

"Oh you know. Better from what you were wearing yesterday? Actually, who helped pick that out for you?" You ask, playing his game.

"I-"

"Well whoever it is, they have good fashion taste." You say. The elevator finally comes to a stop.

"Who ever she is must be one lucky lady." You say, smirking as you walk out of the elevator.

You walk through the lobby. There were only few people in there. You walk outside, the sky painted many warm colors.

You open he car door, throwing your bag in the backseat.

"Fancy car mate." Lando said, walking up next to you.

"Better then your Porsche 911?" You ask.

"Hmm. That need's some thought." He said, putting his hand to his chin.

"What is this?" He asks.

"BMW M5, 2023." You say.

"Wow, you know your stuff."

"What can I say?"

"You know- we should ride with you." Lando says loudly.

"What?" Oscar asks, closing his car door.

"What are you doing?" You whsiper.

"Well, we're all going to the same place."

"I leave later then you."

"It's okay."

"No- no."

"Yeah, watch it's fine." he says calmly.

"No-"

"Osc, were going with y/n today!" Lando shouts, walking over to the passenger side.

"Uhm- okay." Oscar says, getting his things and walking over slowly.

You get in the car as Lando stands on the passenger side, waiting for Oscar.

"Wipe your feet off." You say, Oscar does before he get's in the car. Lando starts to wipe his on the inside mat

"On the outside not the inside!"

"Oops sorry." He said. You roll your eyes.

"I feel like Oscar should be in the front. He always get's left behind." You say.

"Thanks y/n. At least someone appreciates the well being of a human." Oscar says.

You start the car, and slowly back out of the parking lot.

"That was clean." Lando says.

"What?"

"The engine. Sounds good."

"Okay, you sound like a total weirdo." Oscar says, leaning forwards.

You continue to drive through downtown, the traffic seemingly getting heavier. You drive over Pont De La Concorde bridge, slowly coming to a stop due to traffic.

"Wouldn't it be cool if a shark just jumped out of the water just now?" Lando asked. His voice cutting through the silence.

"Mate, are you high or something?" Oscar said.

"Just... having a good day." Lando smiled.

Oscar then turned his head towards you. You saw him through the rear view mirror. You looked at him through it and shrugged, focusing your eyes back on the road.

Traffic had started to lighten up, and you were moving slowly across the bridge again. You exited off the highway and pulled into the circuit. You went towards the other side, driving to the employee parking lot and parking the car.

All of you got out of the car, grabbing your bag's before walking down to the paddock past the many garages.

You made it to the McLaren garage, setting your stuff down at one of the desk.

You got your laptop and notebook out, copying down notes from last night and creating them into and article.

"Did you get those published yet?" Zak asks, walking up next to you.

"No, I just have a few more things to do." You say.

"Alright. Maybe try working on them on the plane ride tonight." He says.

"The plane ride?" You ask quietly.

"Yeah, to New York. For the Premier?"

"Oh right. Yeah I can do that."

"Okay, cause I really need these done."

"Yeah I know. I'm sorry." You say. He nods and walks away, back to where Lando and Oscar were sitting.

You turn your focus back to the computer, but not before meeting Lando's eyes.

You continue typing away for an hour straight, not lifting your eyes off of the screen. One article published after another.

You lean back in your chair, looking over the last paragraph you wrote when Zak had sat next to you. He logged into the computer and started reviewing some data sheets.

"I'm going for a quick walk." You say, standing up and grabbing your phone next to you.

"Alright. We have a team meeting in an hour. You don't have to come if you don't want to." He said.

"Okay, I'll be back." You say, walking out of the garage.

You walk down through the paddock, walking among the crowd. There were still media tents set up, and camera's everywhere, which you didn't expect for the last day.

You were coming to the end of the garages, media still going down the strip. There was little commotion going on in one spot. It was pretty loud throughout the paddock, but this was somewhat louder. You walk ahead through the crowd, seeing what was going on.

In the middle, you a little girl crying next to a camera man, he looked like he was trying to talk to her.

"Everything okay?" You ask. The man looks up at you quickly.

"I don't know, I- I found her crying here but she won't talk." He said nervously. You crouch down to her level, the guy stepped aside, letting you to her.

"Hey sweetie, are you okay?" You ask gently. She shakes her head.

"What's wrong? Are you lost?"

"I don't know where my mom is." She said, her voice shaking. You look back up at the guy, he looked at you and took the hint to leave.

"It's okay, we can find her. Do you mind telling me your name?"

"Adeline."

"That's a pretty name Adeline. Where did your mom go, do you remember?" You ask carefully.

"No. I don't- it's to loud." She cried. Your heart broke.

"Okay. It's okay. What does she look like?"

"Her hair is brown, and she's wearing a blue shirt, and black pants, and she has my backpack on her back." She said.

"Okay. Do you want to come with me? We can look for her." You say. She nodded and took your hand.

You walk through the crowd, walking along the garages to see if she was there. You walk up and down the strip, eventually walking back to the McLaren garage.

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

Lando's POV:

"Yeah, I don't know." Oscar said. Me and him were talking about this upcoming meeting in the garage.

"Are you going to the premier?" I ask.

"Yeah, flying right out..." Oscar said. He continued talking. I blocked him out.

I look over his shoulder to see Y/n come into the garage, a kid attached to her hip.

"What- Lando!" Oscar claps.

"What?"

"Did you hear anything?" He asked. I shook my head. He looks back at Y/n to.

"You like her don't you?" He asks.

"Shut up." I mumble.

"Did you know she has a kid?" He says, looking over at her again.

She looks panicked.

Stressed even.

"She doesn't"

"And how would you know?"

"Just a guess."

Hey loves! Pt. 2 is here! Comment to be added to the tag list! Requests are open!

Tag list:

@landofotographyy @latay7 @mimisweetz

[rockie-rhodes]

modern! arthur morgan headcanons . mdni . nsfw near the end

a/n: sorry, i love making these outlaws silly little modern guys, sue me if you must

𐚁 arthur definitely works some type of blue collar job (mechanic imo), and lives on a ranch because you can never take the cowboy outta the man

𐚁 probably has a criminal record

𐚁 draws as a pastime— either animals, landscapes or you… cause he loves you ‘n all

𐚁 definitely the type to see on the news that there’s a tornado in the area and go stand out on the porch with his hands on his hips

𐚁 unironically calls people ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’ but people still think it’s sarcasm sometimes

𐚁 HATES smartphones. he only has one for work and to occasionally call you. a terrible texter. will send you a ‘Okay.’ or a thumbs up

𐚁 drives a beat-up old pickup truck that he spends most of his time repairing. keeps a toolbox, a blanket, and a first aid kit in the back ‘just in case’

𐚁 smokes far too many cigarettes. will occasionally quit cold turkey just to prove a point but always goes back to them

𐚁 secretly likes indie acoustic bands but will never admit that

𐚁 doesn’t say ‘i love you’ much, but he will drive across the state at 3am to fix your car or bail you out

𐚁 definitely a dog man. probably has a few big ol’ dogs that roam his ranch or plop down in front of the fireplace at night

𐚁 weirdly talented with a harmonica

𐚁 makes his own beef jerky and will secretly be offended if someone declines an offering of some

𐚁 acts of service all around. he’ll fix your car, walk your dog, stand out on your porch like a soaked dog because he brought you something from the grocery store and left his phone at home

𐚁 remembers the smallest details: your favorite snack, the book you said you wanted to read, how you like your eggs.

𐚁 he loves to gossip. always knows something scandalous

𐚁 will absolutely destroy a midnight snack. rolls out of bed at 12:45 with a goal in mind and it involves standing in the kitchen in his underwear

𐚁 you wake up early to make him a lunch for work? he’s gonna show it off to all the guys in the shop with a smug smirk and a nod

NSFW BELOW MDNI

𐚁 we all have established this man grips the headboard so we can move on from that

𐚁 has a big thing for eye contact. ‘open them eyes for me, darlin’…tha’s it, pretty girl/boy..’

𐚁 he doesn’t groan or make too much noise starting off, but once he really gets lost in it— oh, he’s mumbling into your ear and groaning into your shoulder like you’re taking everything he has (you are)

𐚁 the quickest way to get arthur to become putty in your hands is to give him head. something about you sitting pretty on your knees really does it for him. he’ll whine (but will not admit it afterwards) and throw his head back, fingers curled into your hair as his hips shallowly buck up

𐚁 he supports you fully so all you have to do is worry about enjoying it. holds your hips, hoists your legs up on to his shoulders, braces his forearm across your chest, whatever he can grab, he’s grabbing a handful

𐚁 mostly a soft!dom or an occasional switch but can be coaxed into full dominance if you really want it

𐚁 gets lost in that role after a bit though, drags you back towards him by your hips with a click of his tongue and a ‘why’re ya runnin’ from me now?’

𐚁 cockwarming is a big favorite of his, especially when he’s tired from being at work all day then tending to the animals at home, all he wants to do is be surrounded by your comfortable warmth, with just the occasional, soft and lazy roll of his hips to keep himself semi-hard

EXTRA AESTHETICS/MISC:

camera roll (fem reader):

camera roll (masc reader):

spotify playlist:

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

STRANDED ON AN ISLAND KWAZII TRAUMA POST its rlly long lmk if I should split it up

No I will not provide context to how he got there at the moment,but I will let you know he was stranded for approximately 2 years from 12 to 14 (specific numbers may change) for the sake of plot while I am basing the island off of thr ogasawara islands of Japan, the island hes on is alot more isolated, smaller, and unpopulated by people 👍

Trigger warnings: a child dealing with survival issues like hunger and sickness, raw meat, wild animal corpse, mentions of intense psychological distress, small wild animals dying

They're not all gonna be in chronological order btw ✨

◇◇THE BEGINING ◇◇

so the lil shrimp wakes up on a rocky shore with a busted life boat. The suns hot, there's a bird picking at him to see if he's dead, and luckily there's a lot of resources like rations, a medicine kit, and survival guides that all survived. He'll need those

Lil dudes in shock, doesn't rlly understand what's going on, just that he's on an island that seems decently sized, but definitely not large enough for any real settlement, and that hes really glad his grandad taught him about surviving on an island. Yay family tradition ig

He spends a bit of time recovering his strength, he hadn't exactly been in great shape from even before he crashed, and follows the birds for maybe a natural water source and some kindness,the sense of horrific dread be damned.

Okay cool, so hes like stranded stranded and apparently not only did the stormy weather send his little life boat to some island that apparently NO ONE EVEN SAILS NEAR (the birds happily informed him, because they love their home thank u very much) but there seems to not be a single flowing stream or anything of the sort on the entire island :)

Water rations cant last forever, and while cats CAN actually drink salt water to survive, that's only in smaller amounts... :/ they'll get sick if they have too much... so needless to say he got quite ill for some time, luckily the first (and worst) time it happened he had rations...

This actually takes place on a smaller island near Japan, so its rather mountainous and any clean water resources on a small island would have to be a natural spring. Because of the islands isolation and little above ground water resources... They're often vulnerable to droughts and etc... fun for kwazii ain't it!

Needless to say the search for fresh water was... an endeavor. One where he did get sick from drinking unfresh water unfortunately, but he did manage to find a small spring so yay kwazii! It wasn't even too far from the lil high up cave (wall hole) he managed to claim for himself!

He did manage to figure out a fishing system (there's non sapient/sentient animals in my au) using what tools he had even though it was pretty difficult. He uh, may have gotten sick from scavenging a few times. Yk, poisonous berries n whatnot. Luckily cats can rely more on meat and less on vegetation and still be ok. That includes raw meat (still tastes BAD) in a pinch so lucky kwazii huh?

Here's a lil sketch I made of his lil cave <3 ill probably finish and color it at a later date 030

Anyways, after kwazii manages to somewhat stabilize his whole survival situation, he decided to try and yk. Escape. But uh...

Well kwazii definitely knew how all manner of ships and boats worked! But... having all the construction skills and physical strength at age 12 or 13? Esp in HIS situation? Mmnnnnahhh not happening

Not to mention he was basically just using whatever wreckage from the life boat he could repair and whstever he could get from the island

He did know where he was for the most part due to the stars and some general knowledge on where he was from before he shipwrecked. But...

Well needless to say there was a series of failed attempts. Kwazii always seemed to end up right where he started, maybe even more behind than before. Totally didn't lose more and more hope each and every time hahahah! On onenasty instance where he hit some rocks was lucky there were some friendly dolphins nearby or he wouldn't have made it to shore. They became friends afterwards, so kwazii wasn't horribly alone. After all who needs people interaction when you have wild animals :) especially in your developmental teen years!

TIME FOR RANDOM TIDBITS OF ANGST 🗣

So :) wild animals! Not always very friendly! Anyways there were alot of invasive rats and hogs on the island... and well... let's just say in my au hogs and pigs have developed to be more... predatory to fill in the gap left from certain wild animals not being wild....

black rats are an invasive species especially in the ogasawara Islands. They damage the ecosystem by predating on sea birds,snails, and insects, as well as destroying native vegetation.

In my au well.. they aren't the most intelligent animals buuuuuuuuutt.... they all know a cat is a cat. Anyways unrelated but you'll NEVER GUESS who not only kept getting their food stashes eaten, supplies damaged, and even CHASED by a lil swarm of rats every so often! Also they carry disease. Fun times!

Feral pigs of ogasawara irl mostly damage biodiversity through destroying native plants by destroying them and spreading nonnative plants. Also attacks from them to humans have been "on the rise" so...

Anyways! Guess who gets routinely chased by wild territorial boars!!! Hahaha isn't it great that even when you climbed a tree the boar still kept bashing and shaking the tree and refusing to leave for a whilleeeee. Hahahaha really fun.

◇◇◇KWAZII EATS SOMETHING DEAD AND RAW HERE

Also one time kwazii was so exhausted and tired of random rats attacking and trying to bite him or getting into his supplies- hes exhausted and miserable and constantly alert and- well instincts kick in and he swipes at the thing so hard it immediately dies on impact

This was a bit earlier on, and kwaziis food supply was especially... low. So there he was. This 12 year old in the blistering heat, exhausted and starving and at his wits end... staring at the bloody corpse of a particularly large twitching rat. The rats can only manage 2- maybe 3- words at most. yk " FOOD!!!" "MINE!!" And maybe a slur. Not very... intelligent or aware.

So maybe kwazii zoned out when he smelled the flesh. So maybe when he zoned back in he was hunched over a desecrated small corpse with the taste of disgusting nasty rat overwhelming his tongue, mouth,throat, and nose. Maybe he screamed and maybe he cried. Maybe he couldn't handle seeing mangled flesh. It was too soon, something too familiar-◇◇◇

Oh also the

◇◇◇snake thing◇◇◇ (tw snake death?)

Sooooo, let's just say that well , maybe our lil guy had been yk. Out and about, trying to tie some rope and vine for his make-shift sail boat.

Let's also say that there may have been a habu viper, not native to the ogasawara islands (where kwazii is) but the ryukyu islands. They can be very bold and aggressive, often territorial. They also lay their eggs in the summer. (Which is very rare for pit vipers, since most give live birth)

Long story short someone went to grab a rope without looking, accidentally grabbed a snake that attacked him, nearly avoided being bitten by a venomous viper by stabbing it through thr SKULl with a dagger,and then cried about it for hours and held a little snake funeral for the snake that tried to hurt him

He also may have found the snakes eggs, and feeling wretched about his crime (leaving them all alone in the world without their mama 🥺😓) ,he decided to attempt to protect and raise the baby snakes to try to make up for it. Even though he felt guilty about killing the mom snake..

Of course he did know that snakes don't form bonds, but he just wanted to take care of them. They did sorta just slither away right after hatching, instincts telling em to go hunt n whatever, but he did protect them from being eaten and help one that was stuck in its shell. Even hummed them lullabies he remembered. They did thank him when they hatched btw

..............

Thats all the specific little incidents I want to share right now lol but bro is WAY too casual about being stranded on an island istg 😭😭😭

Lmk yalls thoughts 💅

Tags for people who were interested when I asked if yall wanted this >v<

@askkwazii @hannahstales @murkywaterzz @brownyanyk @sc6rl3t @lydiabop