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kathaelipwse · 3 months ago

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Not just a work crush || L.Jihoon (Woozi)

Pairing: Woozi (Lee Jihoon) x Reader (Single Mom!Staff)

Warnings: Mentions of exhaustion| past heartbreak {not with woozi} | workplace struggles | protective Woozi | fluff overload | slow burn | single parent struggle | petnames {zi, zizi, munchkin, sweetheart, baby} | NO PROOF READING WAS DONE. Trope: Secret Single Mom | Found Family | Slow Burn to Love Word Count: 6268 words ; Reading Time: 23 mins-ish Synopsis: You’ve spent years keeping your biggest secret—your daughter—hidden from your work life. As a dedicated staff member for SEVENTEEN, exhaustion is second nature, but Woozi starts noticing. When he stumbles upon a picture of your daughter, everything clicks. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t pry—he just starts showing up. In quiet moments, in unspoken gestures, in the way your little girl calls him "Zizi" before you can even admit what’s happening. Author’s Note: This is a soft, slow-burn story about love that sneaks up on you, about finding a home in unexpected places, and about a tiny human who unknowingly sets everything into motion. Expect protective Woozi, adorable child moments, and fluff that will melt your heart. Requests are open!!

The studio, usually a vibrant hub of creative energy, was shrouded in a hushed, almost reverent stillness. The digital displays on the mixing consoles cast faint, flickering lights, painting the room in a spectrum of soft blues and greens. The air, thick with the lingering scent of electronic equipment and late-night coffee, seemed to vibrate with a quiet intensity. You, however, were oblivious to the subtle symphony of the space, lost in the depths of a weariness that permeated your very bones.

The day had been a relentless marathon, a blur of back-to-back meetings, urgent phone calls, and the constant, gnawing pressure to maintain a semblance of order amidst the chaos of the entertainment industry. Each task, each demand, had chipped away at your reserves, leaving you feeling stretched thin and utterly drained. Yet, the thought of your daughter, her bright, innocent eyes and infectious laughter, had provided a fragile anchor, a reminder of the purpose that fueled your every move.

Your fingers, calloused and weary from hours of typing and scribbling, lay still on the scattered papers before you. The tour schedules, the promotional plans, the endless stream of logistical details blurred into an indistinguishable mass, reflecting the fog that had settled over your mind. Your eyelids, heavy as lead, fluttered closed, and your head, aching with a dull, throbbing rhythm, finally succumbed to the irresistible pull of exhaustion. The cool, smooth surface of the desk offered a momentary respite, a fleeting sanctuary from the relentless demands of your life.

The silence of the studio was broken only by the low hum of the ventilation system and the distant, muffled sounds of the city, a symphony of urban life that usually went unnoticed. Tonight, however, the quiet hum became a soothing drone, a lullaby that gently coaxed you into a state of semi-consciousness.

Woozi, drawn back to the studio by the nagging feeling of an unfinished task, entered the room with his usual quiet precision. He expected to find you immersed in your work, a whirlwind of focused energy, your brow furrowed in concentration as you navigated the complexities of the group’s schedule. He had a half-formed, wry comment ready, a playful jab about your legendary work ethic.

But the scene that unfolded before him was a stark contrast to his expectations. He found you motionless, your head resting on the desk, your breath soft and steady. A flicker of concern, a rare and unfamiliar sensation, stirred within him. He approached with cautious steps, his movements as silent as the shadows that danced across the room.

He paused, his gaze lingering on your peaceful expression. There was a vulnerability in your stillness, a quiet fragility that he had never witnessed before. It was a stark reminder of the human beneath the ever-efficient professional. Then, the soft glow of your phone illuminated the darkness, pulling his attention to the image displayed on the lock screen.

The face of a young girl, her eyes wide with a curious innocence, stared back at him. The resemblance was undeniable, a striking echo of your own features. The same delicate curve of the cheek, the same determined set of the jaw, the same spark of intelligence in the eyes. A realization, sharp and sudden, pierced through his thoughts, illuminating a hidden dimension of your life.

He sank into the chair opposite you, his gaze fixed on the glowing screen, his mind reeling with the implications of this unexpected discovery. The pieces of the puzzle, the hurried exits, the late-night phone calls, the subtle weariness that clung to you like a shadow, finally fell into place. He remembered the faint, almost imperceptible tremor in your voice when you spoke of deadlines and responsibilities, the way your eyes held a depth of unspoken emotion.

He thought about the tiny jackets he had seen you quickly hide into a bag, and the small snacks that you had hidden in your desk drawer. He thought about the small drawings that sometimes were left on your desk, that he had thought were just random sketches.

His fingers hovered over your phone, a silent temptation to delve deeper into this hidden world. But a sense of respect, a quiet understanding of the boundaries you had erected, held him back. This was your story, your secret, a part of your life that you had chosen to keep private.

He sat there, in the quiet solitude of the studio, his gaze tracing the delicate features of your daughter’s face. A strange, unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest, a sense of protectiveness that he couldn’t quite comprehend. He felt a newfound respect for your strength, your resilience, the quiet determination that enabled you to navigate the demanding world of the entertainment industry while raising a child.

The silence of the room was heavy with unspoken emotions, with the weight of a secret revealed. Woozi, the master of carefully crafted words and calculated expressions, found himself speechless, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and unfamiliar feelings. He was a composer of emotions, a weaver of melodies, but in this moment, he was lost in a symphony of his own making, a composition of newfound understanding and quiet admiration.

The studio, once a place solely defined by the rhythm of music and the demands of production, began to transform into a space imbued with a quiet, almost palpable sense of understanding. The day after Woozi's discovery was a delicate dance of unspoken acknowledgment, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that permeated every corner of the room. You were acutely aware of his presence, a gentle undercurrent that flowed beneath the surface of his usual focused demeanor. His gaze, usually sharp and analytical, now held a softer, more contemplative quality, lingering on you for fleeting moments before he'd quickly divert his attention back to his work.

You found yourself constantly questioning his newfound attentiveness, your mind swirling with a mix of gratitude and anxiety. Had he seen the lock screen? Did he judge your situation? Was this a temporary phase, a fleeting expression of sympathy that would eventually fade? The thought of your private life being exposed, the vulnerability it implied, sent a shiver down your spine. Yet, he remained silent, offering no explicit confirmation, no intrusive questions.

Instead, his actions spoke volumes. Small, almost imperceptible gestures began to accumulate, a quiet symphony of unspoken understanding. A bottle of chilled water, precisely the temperature you preferred, would appear beside your workspace, as if conjured by an unseen hand. A neatly packed lunchbox, filled with healthy and balanced ingredients, materialized during the lunch break, a subtle nudge towards self-care amidst the chaos of the day. And when the pressure from management threatened to overwhelm you, when their demands became unreasonable, Woozi would step in, his voice a calm, firm barrier between you and their frustration.

He did not raise his voice, nor did he offer platitudes. He simply presented logical counterarguments, calmly dismantling their unreasonable demands with his sharp intellect and unwavering composure. It was a subtle act of protection, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens you carried.

The unspoken communication between you became a delicate dance, a series of subtle cues and unspoken acknowledgments. You’d catch his eye across the room, a fleeting glance that held a depth of understanding, a silent reassurance that you weren’t alone. He’d leave small notes on your desk, scribbled on scrap paper, containing encouraging words or a simple drawing, a small token of support amidst the whirlwind of your day.

His presence, once a source of professional respect, now became a source of quiet comfort. He was still Woozi, the meticulous producer, the genius songwriter, but there was a newfound gentleness in his demeanor, a quiet understanding that made you feel seen, truly seen, beyond the roles you played within the studio.

One evening, as the recording session stretched into the late hours, your phone rang, its insistent chime cutting through the quiet hum of the studio equipment. The caller ID displayed the familiar number of your daughter’s daycare, and a wave of anxiety washed over you.

“I have to go,” you said, your voice tight with urgency. “There’s an emergency.”

Woozi’s gaze met yours, his expression calm and reassuring. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t demand explanations. He simply reached into his pocket and slid his car keys across the desk.

“Go,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I’ll cover for you.”

The gesture, so simple yet so profound, took your breath away. It was a silent acknowledgment of your responsibilities, a quiet reassurance that he understood the delicate balance you maintained. You stared at the keys, your throat tightening with emotion, unable to articulate the gratitude that swelled within you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, a silent acknowledgment, and turned back to the mixing console, his focus unwavering. You grabbed the keys and rushed out, your mind a whirlwind of anxiety and gratitude.

The drive to the daycare was a blur, your hands gripping the steering wheel, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. When you arrived, you found your daughter safe and sound, her feverish brow cooled by a damp cloth. The daycare staff explained that it was a brief spike in temperature, a common occurrence in young children.

Relief washed over you, a wave so intense that it left you weak. You held your daughter close, her small body warm against yours, and whispered reassurances into her hair, a silent promise to protect her from all harm.

As you drove home, your thoughts turned to Woozi. He had covered for you, without hesitation, without question. He had given you the time and space you needed, without expecting anything in return. It was a selfless act, a quiet demonstration of his understanding and support.

When you returned to the studio the next day, he was working as if nothing had happened. He didn’t mention the previous night, didn’t ask about your daughter. He simply continued with his work, his focus unwavering.

But you knew, deep down, that something had irrevocably changed. He had seen you, truly seen you, not just as a colleague, but as a person, a mother, a woman with a life beyond the studio walls. And in that quiet understanding, a connection began to form, a bond that was both fragile and profound.

The studio, once a place of work, began to feel like a sanctuary, a place where you were seen, understood, and supported. The unspoken communication between you and Woozi became a silent language, a symphony of understanding that resonated deeper than any words could convey. You began to look forward to seeing him, to hearing his voice, to feeling the quiet reassurance of his presence. And even though the fear of eventual change lingered, you allowed yourself to savor the peace, the quiet comfort, that he offered. You began to feel a warmth grow in your heart, a feeling you had long suppressed, a flicker of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you weren’t alone after all.

The decision to invite Woozi into your home, into the sanctuary you’d built for yourself and your daughter, was a tightrope walk between hope and fear. It was a leap of faith, a fragile attempt to open a door that had been slammed shut years ago. The echoes of your past, the sharp sting of broken promises and abandoned dreams, still lingered, casting long shadows over your present.

You remembered the way he had looked at you when you told him about the ex-boyfriend, the man who had promised forever and then vanished like smoke in the wind. The way he’d gripped your hand, his own knuckles white, as you described the lonely nights, the silent tears that soaked your pillow, the crushing weight of single parenthood. He had listened without judgment, without pity, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding that resonated deep within you.

The wounds from that old betrayal had never fully healed. They were scars, invisible to the world, but deeply etched into your soul. You had built walls around your heart, brick by careful brick, protecting yourself and your daughter from further pain. The thought of trusting someone again, of letting them into your carefully constructed world, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Yet, Woozi had chipped away at those walls, piece by piece, with his quiet kindness and unwavering support. He had seen your strength, your resilience, the quiet determination that enabled you to navigate the chaos of your life. He had offered a safe harbor, a quiet understanding that made you feel seen, truly seen, beyond the roles you played in the studio.

And so, you had invited him into your home, a tentative step towards allowing yourself to hope again. But the fear remained, a persistent whisper in the back of your mind, reminding you of the fragility of trust, the potential for heartbreak.

There he stood, in your doorway, a hesitant smile on his face. The scent of rain clung to his clothes, a reminder of the storm that had mirrored your emotional turmoil the night before. You ushered him inside, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a mixture of anticipation and dread.

Your daughter, ever curious and fearless, peeked out from behind your legs, her big, expressive eyes fixed on the unfamiliar figure. She was your masterpiece, your reason for everything, a tiny echo of your own strength and determination. The thought of introducing her to someone new, of allowing another person to become a part of her world, filled you with a protective instinct so fierce it almost choked you.

Woozi, usually so composed and self-assured, seemed awkward, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected encounter. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands clasped behind his back, a silent testament to his own vulnerability.

He knelt down, his gaze meeting your daughter’s, and held out a small plushie – a fluffy, pastel-colored sheep he’d impulsively grabbed from a nearby store. It was a gesture of peace, a silent offering to this tiny, unknown entity.

She frowned, her brow furrowed in suspicion, mirroring your own cautious approach to new relationships. “Mommy said don’t take things from strangers.” Her voice was small but firm, a testament to your consistent teachings, a reflection of the lessons you’d learned the hard way.

A laugh bubbled in your throat, a mixture of amusement and relief. You had raised a cautious and intelligent child. Before you could intervene, Woozi’s voice, usually so measured, softened, taking on a gentle, almost hesitant tone.

“I’m your mom’s friend,” he said, his eyes meeting yours for a brief, reassuring moment, a silent plea for your trust.

Your daughter’s gaze flickered between you and Woozi, seeking confirmation. You nodded, a small, encouraging smile on your face, a silent acknowledgment of the leap of faith you were taking.

Only then did she cautiously reach out and take the plushie, her small fingers gently brushing against his. “Thank you, Zizi,” she mumbled, her eyes still fixed on him, assessing him with the same careful scrutiny you had employed for years.

The nickname, so innocent and unexpected, broke the tension in the room, a gentle reminder of the simple, unadulterated trust of a child. A genuine smile spread across Woozi’s face, a warmth that reached his eyes, a silent promise to be worthy of that trust. In that moment, he was no longer Woozi, the renowned producer, the stoic songwriter. He was Zizi, a friend, a potential figure in this little girl’s world, a chance for you to rewrite the narrative of your past.

The studio, once a realm of pure musical creation, transformed into a covert operation, a fortress of affection guarded by the silent, watchful eyes of Lee Jihoon. He moved with a newfound purpose, a quiet determination that radiated from him like a subtle hum. He became a protector, a silent guardian, his actions driven by a fierce, almost primal instinct to shield you and your daughter from any harm.

He guarded your secret with a fervor that bordered on obsessive, his actions a testament to his growing affection. He didn’t just keep it; he fortified it, erecting an invisible barrier around your privacy. He deflected prying questions with a sharp wit, his eyes flashing a silent warning to anyone who dared to delve too deep. He became a master of misdirection, weaving elaborate tales of late-night studio sessions and urgent deadlines to explain his increasingly frequent absences.

He became a connoisseur of children’s snacks, a silent provider of tiny treasures. He’d surreptitiously slip fruit pouches and organic crackers into his bag, his expression a picture of studied nonchalance. He’d scour toy stores for the perfect plushie, the ideal coloring book, his usually focused gaze softening as he imagined your daughter’s delighted squeals.

But the members, ever perceptive, began to notice the subtle shifts in his behavior. Seungcheol, the leader, the ever-watchful patriarch of their chaotic family, observed Woozi’s increasingly erratic schedule with a furrowed brow. “Jihoon, you’re acting… strangely. You’re always disappearing, you’re hoarding children’s snacks, and you’re radiating an aura of… secretiveness,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

Mingyu, the group’s resident gossip and fashion enthusiast, held up a tiny, sequined jacket, his eyes wide with disbelief. “And this? This is clearly for a miniature diva. Who are you dressing, Jihoon? A tiny influencer?”

Jeonghan, the master of playful manipulation, the orchestrator of subtle chaos, raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Lee Jihoon. Confess. Who is this tiny human who has captured your heart? And why are you so… protective?”

Cornered, Woozi sighed, a mixture of exasperation and affection in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t keep the secret forever, not from the men who knew him better than he knew himself. He gathered them in the studio’s lounge, the air thick with anticipation, and told them everything. He explained your situation, your struggles, the quiet strength that had captivated him, and the unexpected joy that had blossomed in your daughter’s presence.

Instead of the teasing and playful jabs he had braced himself for, he was met with a chorus of genuine support, a wave of warmth that surprised even him. Joshua, the romantic, the sentimental soul of the group, clutched his chest dramatically, his eyes wide with emotion. “This is… a masterpiece of human connection! You’re like a secret superhero dad!”

Mingyu, his usual boisterous energy amplified, was practically vibrating with excitement. “This is amazing! We need to throw a welcome party! We can get her tiny designer outfits! I know a guy who makes custom mini jackets!”

Seungcheol, his expression softening, placed a hand on Woozi’s shoulder, his voice filled with genuine affection. “Jihoon, this is your happiness. You’ve found something precious, and we’re all here for you, always. We will protect her, and you, with everything we have.”

The members’ reactions were a testament to their deep bond, their unwavering support for one another. They showered Woozi with questions, eager to learn every detail about your daughter, her personality, her favorite toys. They offered to help in any way they could, from babysitting to building elaborate play forts in the studio.

Woozi, usually so guarded, found himself opening up, sharing anecdotes and stories about your daughter’s infectious laughter, her boundless curiosity, and the way she had transformed his perception of the world. He spoke of your strength, your resilience, the quiet determination that had captivated him, and the way you had built a safe haven for your small family.

But beneath the surface of his newfound openness, a quiet conflict raged within him. He was still grappling with the unfamiliar emotions that had stirred within him, the sense of responsibility and protectiveness that had taken root in his heart. He was a composer of emotions, a weaver of melodies, but he was still learning to navigate the complexities of his own heart.

He was hopelessly, utterly, and completely whipped for you. He’d been harboring a crush for years, admiring your quiet strength and unwavering dedication. Now, seeing you as a mother, as a woman who had faced adversity and emerged stronger, had amplified his feelings tenfold. He found himself wanting to protect you, to cherish you, to erase the shadows of your past.

He loved your daughter, her innocent joy and unwavering trust. And he loved you, your quiet strength, the way you had built a world for yourself and your daughter. But the fear remained, a persistent whisper in the back of his mind, reminding him of the fragility of trust, the potential for heartbreak. He was still haunted by the idea of repeating the mistakes of the past, of causing you and your daughter pain.

He didn’t answer Seungcheol’s question, the question that hung in the air like a silent challenge. He simply smiled, a small, hesitant smile that held a mixture of hope and uncertainty. He knew that he cared deeply, but the idea of defining it, of labeling it, felt daunting.

The members’ support was a comfort, a reassurance that he wasn’t alone. But the final decision, the leap of faith, was his to take. He was standing on the precipice of a new chapter, a chapter filled with the potential for love and happiness, but also the potential for pain. He was a composer of emotions, but this was a symphony that he was still learning to orchestrate. He needed to find the courage to conduct his own heart, to embrace the love that was blossoming within him, and to trust that he could create a future filled with harmony and happiness.

The quiet rhythm of your evenings had shifted, infused with a new warmth and a sense of gentle companionship. Woozi, or "Zizi," as your daughter affectionately called him, had become a regular fixture in your little home, a comforting presence that filled the space with laughter and quiet understanding. He’d arrive after studio sessions, his eyes tired but his smile bright, ready to engage in elaborate tea parties, build towering block castles, or simply sit quietly, listening to your daughter’s endless stories.

One evening, as you were on a phone call, pacing the kitchen, trying to resolve a last-minute schedule change, Woozi sat on the couch, your daughter nestled beside him, her small fingers tracing the lines on his hand. She was fascinated by his large, capable hands, the hands that created beautiful music, the hands that also built the most impressive block towers.

Then, her small voice, clear and unwavering, broke the comfortable silence. “Zizi, why do you look at my mommy like that?”

Woozi froze, his gaze snapping to her, a blush creeping up his neck. He hadn’t realized his admiration was so transparent. “Like what?” he asked, his voice a little too high-pitched.

She tilted her head, her eyes wide and innocent, yet piercingly observant. “Like she’s your favorite person. Like she’s a star, and you’re watching her shine.”

His ears burned, a wave of heat washing over him. He was a master of words, a composer of emotions, but he was utterly unprepared for the unfiltered honesty of a five-year-old. “You ask too many questions,” he mumbled, trying to deflect her inquiry with a playful scowl.

But your daughter was undeterred. “Don’t hurt her,” she said, her voice suddenly serious, her small hand gripping his.

Woozi’s heart clenched. “Hurt her? What makes you say that?”

“She cries behind closed doors,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes filled with a wisdom beyond her years. “She thinks I don’t know. But I do.”

A wave of guilt washed over him, a sharp, painful pang. He had witnessed your strength, your resilience, but he hadn’t fully grasped the depth of your pain, the silent battles you fought behind closed doors. He had been so focused on his own feelings, his own fears, that he had overlooked the silent suffering that lingered beneath your brave facade.

He looked at your daughter, her small face etched with concern, and he felt a surge of protectiveness, a fierce determination to shield you both from any further harm. “I would never hurt her,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering.

“Then why do you look at her like that?” she repeated, her eyes searching his.

He sighed, a mixture of exasperation and tenderness in his eyes.

“It’s… complicated,” he began, trying to find words a child could understand.

“Is it like how you look at your guitar?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“No, not exactly,” he chuckled. “It’s… more special than that. It’s like… she’s the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.”

“Does that mean you want to sing with her?”

“In a way, yes. I want to be a part of her song. I want to make her happy.”

“Does she make you happy?”

“She does. She makes me happier than anyone I know.”

“Then you should tell her that.”

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. “I will. I promise.”

Your daughter nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Okay,” she said, her voice serious. “But if you make her sad, I’ll tell you off. And I’ll tell everyone.”

Woozi smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. “Deal,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

He looked at your daughter, her small face filled with a quiet determination, and he felt a surge of affection, a deep appreciation for her unwavering loyalty. He knew that he had gained not just your trust, but also the trust of your fierce little protector. And he vowed, silently, to be worthy of that trust, to cherish and protect you both with all his heart.

Two years had woven a tapestry of shared moments, the quiet understanding between you and Woozi blossoming into a deep affection. However, the outside world wasn't always kind. The growing closeness between you, a single mother, and Woozi, a respected producer, drew unwanted attention.

Coworkers, fueled by envy and a lack of understanding, whispered behind your back, their words laced with venom. "She's just using him," one would sneer, their voice dripping with malice. "Single moms always have an agenda."

"It's disgusting," another would chime in, their tone laced with disgust. "She's practically throwing herself at him. And he's so blind."

"I heard she leaves her kid with anyone, just to be with him," a third would add, embellishing the lies with a cruel twist. "No wonder she gets so much time off, she's got him wrapped around her finger."

"She's probably just a gold digger," someone would say. "Trying to get a rich man to pay for everything."

"It's so unprofessional. And in the company, too! What a mess."

Woozi overheard these conversations, his usually calm demeanor shattering into icy rage. He heard the cruel remarks, the snide insinuations, and the blatant attempts to undermine your reputation. His eyes, usually warm and gentle, turned cold and hard, his jaw clenched. His voice, usually soft and melodic, became a low, dangerous growl, barely audible. He wanted to confront them, to unleash his fury, but he knew it would only escalate the situation and draw more unwanted attention to you, and fuel the fire they were trying to start. Instead, he acted in the shadows, his methods subtle but effective.

Late one night, an anonymous account on a popular social media platform posted a detailed account of workplace bullying at HYBE. The post described a dedicated employee, a single mother, being subjected to cruel gossip and unfair treatment. It didn’t name names, but the details were specific enough to raise alarm, without being easily traced back. "This employee is constantly being verbally attacked by other employees, who spread lies about her personal life, and her work ethics. They call her names, and make her feel like she is less than human. The company is doing nothing about it. This needs to stop."

The post went viral, sparking outrage and a wave of public support for the unnamed employee. HYBE, facing a potential PR disaster, launched an internal investigation. Within days, several employees were quietly dismissed, their actions deemed unacceptable.

The whispers and rumors ceased. The atmosphere in the studio shifted, replaced by a wary respect. You noticed the change, the sudden shift in the way your coworkers treated you, but you remained unaware of Woozi’s involvement.

One evening, as you and Woozi relaxed on your couch, you scrolled through the social media feed, your eyes wide with disbelief. “Can you believe this?” you exclaimed, showing him the viral post. “Someone actually stood up for this person. It’s amazing!”

Woozi smiled, a quiet, knowing smile that warmed his eyes. “It is,” he agreed, his voice soft.

“I’m so glad someone did this,” you continued, your voice filled with gratitude. “It gives me hope that people still care. And that companies will do something about it.”

Woozi’s smile widened, a flicker of pride in his eyes. He watched you, your face glowing with relief and appreciation, and he felt a surge of satisfaction. He had protected you, silenced your tormentors, and given you a sense of hope, all without you knowing his involvement. The secret made him happy, because he knew he was the reason for your peace, and he was the one that made your life better.

Two years. Two years of stolen glances, of soft touches, of lingering stares that held unspoken promises. Two years of Woozi’s unwavering support, his quiet strength a constant anchor in your life. Two years of him seamlessly weaving himself into your world, into the intricate tapestry of your family, his presence as natural and essential as the air you breathed.

On your birthday, he arrived, not with the usual studio-related gift, but with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, their delicate petals mirroring the fragile hope that bloomed in your heart. Your daughter, ever his tiny accomplice, clung to his leg, her eyes sparkling with excitement. He pulled you aside, his expression serious, his eyes holding a depth of emotion that made your breath catch in your throat.

“I have something to say,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, the words hanging in the air like a whispered secret.

You raised an eyebrow, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “What, you secretly hate me?” you teased, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment with a touch of humor.

He scoffed, a soft smile playing on his lips. “No, idiot,” he retorted, his voice laced with affection.

Then, in one breath, he laid his heart bare, his words raw and sincere. “I love you.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the sounds around you fading into a distant hum. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the unspoken feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. “Woozi…” you began, your voice barely a whisper, your mind reeling with the weight of his confession.

“I love your daughter too,” he added, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “I think she loves me more than you do,” he teased, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere, but his eyes held a sincerity that made your heart ache.

Before you could process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you, a little voice, clear and unwavering, cut through the tension. “KISS MAMA, ZI!” your daughter yelled, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole, to erase the awkwardness of the moment. But then, warm fingers gently tilted your chin up, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Woozi’s eyes, usually sharp and focused, softened, their depths filled with a tenderness that made your breath catch in your throat. “I love you,” he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion, his gaze unwavering. “And I want you. Both of you. I want to be a part of your lives, to build a future with you, to cherish and protect you both.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw sincerity in his eyes, shattered the walls you had built around your heart. He wasn’t offering a fleeting romance, a casual fling. He was offering a forever, a commitment to you and your daughter, a promise to be a constant in your lives.

Then, finally, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken feelings, of shared moments, of a love that had blossomed amidst the chaos of your lives.

Your daughter squealed, a mixture of delight and playful disgust. “EWWW.”

Woozi chuckled against your lips, his laughter warm and comforting. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, his expression filled with a quiet joy.

And in that moment, amidst the chaos of your daughter’s playful protests and the lingering scent of your birthday flowers, you felt a sense of peace, a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. You felt home. You felt loved. And you knew, with a certainty that warmed you from the inside out, that this was the beginning of something beautiful, a love story written in the quiet moments of shared laughter and unwavering support.

A year later, the quiet rhythm of your little home was a symphony of love and laughter. The once empty spaces were now filled with the warmth of shared meals, the gentle hum of bedtime stories, and the soft glow of family movie nights. Woozi, no longer just "Zizi," but a cherished member of your little family, tucked Munchkin into bed, his large hands gently smoothing the soft blanket around her small frame.

She sleepily grabbed his hand, her eyelids fluttering closed, her voice a soft whisper. “Love you, Zizi.”

His heart melted, a warmth spreading through his chest like a gentle sunrise. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his voice thick with affection. “Love you too, Munchkin.”

He lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on her peaceful face, a silent promise to protect her dreams, to chase away the shadows that lingered in the corners of her young mind. He adjusted the nightlight, ensuring its soft glow illuminated the room, a beacon of comfort in the darkness.

You leaned against the doorframe, a soft smile gracing your lips, your heart overflowing with a love so profound it made your eyes sting with unshed tears. The scene before you, the gentle tenderness between Woozi and your daughter, was a testament to the love you had built together, a love that had blossomed amidst the chaos of your lives.

When Woozi turned, his eyes met yours, a silent conversation passing between you. He walked towards you, his footsteps soft on the carpet, his gaze unwavering. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering for a moment, a silent expression of your gratitude, your affection, your unwavering love.

“Love you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, the words a gentle caress against his skin.

He pulled you both close, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace, his body a comforting presence against yours. The three of you stood there, a small, perfect circle of love, bathed in the soft glow of the nightlight.

In the quiet of your little home, the silence was filled with unspoken words, with the gentle rhythm of shared breaths, with the comforting weight of love. Woozi finally felt at peace, his heart overflowing with a contentment he had never known before. He had found his place, his family, his home.

He thought of the past, the lonely nights spent in the studio, the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart. He thought of you, your strength, your resilience, the way you had built a world for yourself and your daughter, a world filled with love and laughter.

And he realized, with a certainty that warmed him from the inside out, that he had found more than just a love story. He had found a family, a haven, a place where he belonged. He had found a symphony of love, a melody that resonated deep within his soul, a song that he would cherish for the rest of his life. And as he held you both close, he knew that he was finally home.

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ditzyrafe · 2 months ago

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— dom!rafe edging you

warnings — oral (fem!rec), fingering, orgasm denial, lewd language

you were trembling, sprawled naked on rafe's bed, sheets already damp beneath you. every nerve ending felt hypersensitive, tingling with a desperate energy that had nowhere to go. rafe knelt between your spread thighs, his expression a mask of intense concentration, dark eyes missing nothing. he hadn't brought you close just once or twice. this was a meticulous, agonising torture session, each near-climax more intense, each denial sharper than the last.

"stay still," he commanded softly, his voice a low anchor in the storm raging inside of you. his fingers, slick with your wetness, were currently tormenting your clit with agonisingly slow circles, pressure building steadily, promisingly. your hips twitched, trying to push up against his hand, chasing the friction. "ah-ah," he chided, pinning your hip with his free hand, stopping the movement. "be patient. you cum when i allow it, understand?"

"y-yes," you gasped, the word strained, barely audible over your ragged breathing. heat coiled low and tight in your belly, a familiar ache that screamed for release. you could fee the orgasm building again, the suggestive tingling starting deep inside you. your toes curled, legs tensing involuntarily. it was close. so close.

"such a needy little thing, aren't 'ya?" he taunted, leaning closer, his gaze burning into yours like an inferno. his fingers didn't falter, maintaining that maddeningly perfect rhythm.

"p-please… rafe. i can't-" you whimpered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes — not from pain, but from sheer, unbearable need. your inner muscles clenched desperately, trying to pull the orgasm out.

"i know, baby," he murmured, a cruel little smirk playing on his lips. he watched as you writhed in the sheets of your shared bed, the flush spreading across your face and chest. he saw the exact moment you were close enough, and right then, just as you sucked in a breath to cry out, his hand completely stopped. completely still, but not moving an inch away from you just yet. leaving you hanging, suspended on that agonising peak, body shuddering with the force of the denied climax.

a choked sob escaped you, raw frustration mixing with the lingering sparks of pleasure. "why'd you stop again?"

"because i love watching my baby unravel," he stated simply before he leaned down, replacing his fingers with his mouth. the hot, wet suction was a shock to your system, instantly reigniting the fire within you. his tongue flicked, teased, then latched onto your clit, sucking hard, driving you right back towards that edge with breathtaking speed. you cried out, bucking helplessly beneath him this time, the denied pleasure making this new ascent almost unbearably intense. faster, harder, his mouth worked relentlessly, fingers plunging inside you, stretching you, adding another layer to the sensory overload.

you were screaming his name now, begging, pleading, lost in the haze. the orgasm almost slammed into you again, closer, bigger than before, about to shatter your control completely. and again, just milliseconds before you would have broken apart, he pulled away. the abrupt absence of contact was like a physical blow. you collapsed back onto the sheets, panting, body trembling violently, tears of sheer frustration now streaming down your face.

rafe watched you, chest rising and falling heavily, his own control evident but strained. he reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "not yet," he whispered, his voice thick with his own arousal, his eyes promising more denial, more exquisite torture.

"we're not finished. not even close."

taglist ; @13hischiers @rafesprecious @mayanqueenxx @dreewsepj @zoenighshade555 @feverg1rl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @onxlyemery @yncoded @millie--billie @laniirackssss @slut4you (join here) | divider creds ; @/anitalenia @/fairytopea

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zazaiafe2 · 6 days ago

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Full post about letting go in shifting

1) Letting go or the mysterious puzzle of shifting

Letting go is one of the most misunderstood concepts in the shifting community.

Many exhaust themselves asking: “How do I let go?”… which is ironically counterproductive, as it triggers the mind even more.

For some, it happens naturally. For others, it’s like a lock.

Spoiler: letting go isn’t a permanent state you need to maintain 24/7. It’s a key moment happening at a precise instant.

About half the people who shift on command (12 people on the survey sample) said they sometimes have a very “empty” mind (there were 26 participants, and they could pick multiple answers, that’s why the stats add up like this). Imagination also seems common among people who shift on command, likely because of the immersive aspect it creates.

2) Letting go: no need to "think about nothing" all the time

Based on many testimonies (including my own surveys):Many shifters say they had doubts, intrusive thoughts, even anxiety before successfully shifting.

The common pattern is that, at the critical moment of shifting, a switch occurs where:

- The environment becomes secondary.

- Thoughts naturally slow down.

- The brain shifts into a state of internal release.

It’s not a total absence of thought.

Rather: -> a distancing from one’s thoughts.

3) Letting go = temporary deactivation of the controlling ego

When shifting, the problem isn’t thinking itself but trying to consciously control every detail.

The analytical mind (the ego, the "controller") loves staying in charge.

-> Metaphor:

Imagine you’re a passenger on a boat.

Your ego wants to steer.

Letting go is the moment you allow your subconscious to take the wheel.

Letting go = trusting that the current will take you where you want to go without forcing the rudder.

4) Emotional state matters more than we think

Many believe that "intention" alone is enough.(It can be in some precise case)

In reality, emotional state (not just positive vs. negative, but stimulating vs. calming) plays a central role.

Interesting paradox:

Calm emotions (serenity, slight sadness, contemplative state) often seem more favorable than highly activated emotions (anger, extreme euphoria, anxiety).

The subconscious shifts better when it isn’t overwhelmed emotionally.

-> The mind needs to be able to glide, not fight, the emotion.

5) Why does letting go support shifting?

Neurocognitive hypothesis (based on research I've done):

Shifting seems to involve switching brain modes:

- Default Mode Network (DMN): self-centered, ruminative thinking, focused on self-awareness (of the CR).

- Low-latent mode (hypnagogic, hypnopompic):

-> opens up to broadened perceptions, new reality and identity perceptions.

Letting go helps transition into this receptive mode where assumption can truly take root.

Key moment:

-> "My mind disconnects and lets my identity glide into my DR."

⚠ Note: It’s not black and white. The DMN can help with preparation and constructing the DR, but at the key moment of shifting, it seems more favorable when the DMN activity drops, allowing easier passage.

6) Letting go ≠ abandoning intention

Many believe you have to completely forget you want to shift.

Wrong: it's more accurate to say you need to:

Maintain a soft, implicit intention.

But without trying to force or constantly check.

Sometimes, simple immersive visualizations, calming sensory affirmations, or just "being mentally in your DR" are enough.

❀ The key:

-> The intention is in the background, stable. The active mind is on pause.

7) The extreme example: stress can make shifting harder

Imagine trying to shift while being chased with a knife:

Even with the best affirmations, your brain would be overwhelmed by survival mode.

Why? Because the body is in a state of maximal activation of the limbic system.

The more emotionally overloaded you are → the harder it is to access the subtle shifting process; it gets locked.

That's why:

-> Calm conditions aren’t mandatory, but they are highly favorable.(Some profile are highly emotionally resilient which could change things a bit)

My favorite meditation for relaxation

8) Letting go isn’t "emptiness", it’s a selective opening

Many believe you have to “stop thinking” to let go. But that’s almost impossible. (For most profile)

In reality, it's often about redirecting your attention:

- Less analytical/logical thinking

- More immersive, sensory, narrative thinking

Examples:

- Feeling your DR without trying to visualize every detail

- Letting yourself be immersed in imagined sensations (sounds, smells, touch, etc.)

It’s not the absence of mental content, but rather mental content adapted to shifting.

If I can give an example: it's like floating in the middle of water. Your mind relaxes, thoughts come and go like waves, but you know the current will guide you to the right place.

9) Letting go and the “floating effect”

Many shifters describe an inner floating feeling just before shifting:

- A sense of weightlessness

- Sensory blur

- Light, pleasant dissociation

Why? The brain seems to enter a “low cognitive friction” mode:

-> Mental barriers between realities become thinner

-> The rigid ego temporarily falls asleep

Allowing this drifting feeling to naturally emerge can greatly facilitate shifting.

I would even say for some, sensory deprivation or certain sensory experiences might help them enter these states.

10) Accepting the imperfection of the mind

The trap of perfect letting go:

Many people get stuck because they want to be mentally perfect before shifting.

But:

- The mind fluctuates.

- Intrusive thoughts exist.

- Shifting doesn’t require unrealistic mental purity.

What to aim for:

-> Mental flexibility, not perfection.

Sometimes, intrusive thoughts fade away on their own by letting the DR sensations come to the foreground.

11) The importance of micro-moments of shift

We often believe that shifting requires hours of preparation.

But in reality:

Shifting often happens in a few key seconds when:

- The state of relaxation is reached.

- DR attention becomes dominant.

- The mind slides without being pulled back forcefully to CR.

These moments are subtle, but become recognizable with experience.

The more you practice identifying these mini-shifts, the more you develop a flexible "entry window."

12) Conclusion: don’t panic about letting go

You don’t need to be mentally perfect to shift.

Letting go is occasional, not permanent.

It’s a release of control at the key moment.

You can totally:

- Have doubts.

- Have intrusive thoughts.

But succeed in disconnecting at the right moment.

-> The most important: cultivate moments of gentle receptivity, no need for absolute control.

Bonus) Alpha, theta waves as well as binaural or isochronic sounds also seem ideal to induce a favorable state (not mandatory especially if you prefer not to have sound but it may help).

Link 1 (alpha waves)

Link 2(theta waves)

Link 3(isochronic tones)

youtube

(translated from my TikTok)

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liviawildrose · 22 days ago

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𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝟏𝟎𝟏

the cold truth: your brain is the boss of your reality

your brain is not just a squishy organ in your skull. it’s a pattern-detecting, future-projecting, meaning-assigning machine. and your nervous system? it’s the messenger. the mood conductor. the switchboard for every single emotional, physical, spiritual vibe you feel.

if your nervous system is dysregulated (and let’s be honest most of us walking around with trauma, burnout, bad parenting, too much social media, and zero rest it is), then your brain is operating in survival mode. not goddess mode.

you feel like shit because your nervous system is hijacked

this is not your personality. this is your programming.

are you always anxious, snappy, emotionally numb, overly sensitive, tired but wired, can’t focus, can’t sleep, stuck in loops of overthinking? or maybe you feel shut down, depressed, numb, foggy, dissociated, hopeless?

you might be in dorsal vagal shutdown. it’s the freeze state. it’s what your body does when the danger feels too big to fight or run from.

and if you’re just constantly overstimulating your brain with useless content, noise, stress, porn, gossip, sugar, or doomscrolling congrats. you’re in a state of what i like to call:

✨ neural masturbation ✨

aka: mental overstimulation with zero productive output. feels good short-term, wrecks your life long-term.

but wait, you can rewire all this.

1. nervous system regulation

this is the foundation. nothing in your life changes until your nervous system feels safe. period.

→ vagus nerve activation (the holy grail):

• cold showers / face in ice water

• deep belly breathing (inhale 4, exhale 8)

• humming / chanting / singing

• slow rhythmic movement (like walking, swimming, yoga)

• touch / pressure (weighted blanket, self hugs)

• grounding in nature (barefoot on grass, laying on the earth)

→ cut stimulation

• limit social media + screen time

• no phones in bed

• 1 hour in silence every day (no input = integration)

→ rest like it’s your job

• nap

• stare at the ceiling

• do nothing without guilt

• let your brain process and chill

now relax cause first i’m gonna tell y’all about

YOUR NERVOUS SYSTEM

the nervous system is your body’s electric language.

it’s what lets you feel, move, react, survive, and thrive.

if your brain is the CPU, then your nervous system is the WiFi. and let me tell you:

bad WiFi = glitchy reality

strong, stable WiFi = smooth, sexy manifestation pipeline

so when you’re stuck in fear, shame, doubt, overthinking, self-hate spirals —

it’s often your nervous system crying:

“yo… i’m overloaded. i need safety. i need co-regulation. i need a hug and some fkn magnesium.”

THE THREE NERVOUS SYSTEM MODES

1. SYMPATHETIC STATE – “FIGHT or FLIGHT”

• activated by threat, stress, trauma, survival

• you feel: anxious, restless, angry, hyper, can’t sit still, can’t stop thinking

• body: tense muscles, shallow breath, maybe stomach issues

• mind: “i have to do more or else i’ll fail”

and the way my biology teacher told us “when you have your cumulative test in a hour and you haven’t prepared for it”

this is your hustler mode but in survival. it’s useful in short bursts, but living here full-time burns you out.

2. DORSAL VAGAL – “FREEZE or FAWN”

• when you’re overwhelmed AF, so your system shuts down

• you feel: numb, hopeless, dissociated, heavy, tired all the time, unmotivated

• mind: “what’s the point… nothing matters. i’ll never succeed.”

• body: depression, chronic fatigue, no appetite or bingeing, low energy

most depressed people stay in this state, notice how nothing exite them anymore? yeah that’s the reason

this is the shutdown zone. not your fault. your system is protecting you from past danger.

3. VENTRAL VAGAL – “SAFE & SOCIAL”

• the state of calm, creativity, confidence, clarity

• you feel: grounded, happy, motivated, connected, flowy

• body: relaxed shoulders, steady breath, sparkle in the eyes

• mind: “i got this. life is working for me. i’m safe to be seen and succeed.”

THIS is where you create magic. THIS is where you’re magnetic. THIS is where you manifest with ease.

✨ HOW TO REGULATE YOUR NERVOUS SYSTEM AND BECOME GODMODE ✨

literally regulate your nervous system and you’ll watch your life snap into place. here’s the top practices to get you into your divine ventral state daily:

breath work

slow, deep breathing tells your brain: “you’re safe now”

• box breathing (4–4–4–4) = calms anxiety

• 4-7-8 breathing = activates parasympathetic calm response

• deep belly breaths = nervous system reset. not chest. not shallow. go deep.

cold showers and face dips

“wtf” i know — but science supports this

cold activates your vagus nerve = instant mental reset

you’re literally shocking your body out of panic

BILATERAL STIMULATION (aka EMDR-style techniques)

• tapping left/right sides of your body

• eye movement back and forth

• walking with intention

this helps you process trauma, rewire beliefs, and regulate emotions

it brings both brain hemispheres into sync = POWER MODE

LISTEN TO BINAURAL BEATS + SUBLIMINALS

• 528Hz = love, healing

• 963Hz = crown chakra, divine connection

• 432Hz = natural harmony

• subliminals + these = subconscious and nervous system healing

layer it up like your sonic skincare.

CO-REGULATION / TOUCH / SAFETY

you are not meant to heal alone.

being near people who feel calm + safe will literally regulate your system through mirror neurons.

hugs, holding hands, even voice notes from your bff = nervous system gold.

even petting a dog. even hugging a pillow with lavender oil.

your nervous system doesn’t care if it’s “real” or not. it just wants love.

btw, i’m always here to listen to ya so 💗

now we talk about brain

YOUR BRAIN IS A GODDAMN UNIVERSE. TREAT IT LIKE ONE.

so let’s get this straight:

you wanna be that global idol, soloist, actress, ceo, dancer, doctor, engineer, model, teacher, lawyer, the prettiest face of luxury brands, walk with your head high while everyone’s eyes are glued to you like you’re gravity itself?

then honey? you better be training your brain like it’s a fucking star, like the most important asset of your life.

let’s talk about RAS (reticular activating system) — the gateway to your dream reality

the RAS is a filter in your brainstem that decides what you notice in the world.

you ever learn a new word and suddenly hear it everywhere? or think about someone and they text you?

that’s RAS in action. it’s the brain’s “selective attention” system.

and here’s the wild part:

✨ it’s programmable. ✨

so if you wake up and feed it images of wealth, beauty, love, success, peace, power

the RAS will start scanning the environment for ways to make that real.

you’ll start seeing opportunities.

you’ll meet the right people.

you’ll “magically” land where you need to be.

it’s not coincidence. it’s science.

✧ start here: train your RAS everyday

1. create a vision board (digital, physical, mental doesn’t matter)

2. make a mind movie (a video of your dream life set to music that activates you)

3. record your affirmations in your own voice and listen to them while you get ready

4. journal like you’re already living your dream —“today i woke up in paris with flowers on my balcony…” (you can totally use chatgpt for this)

your subconscious doesn’t know the difference between real + imagined.

so imagine obsessively.

protect your cognitive real estate:

aka: no, you don’t need to be in every group chat. no, you don’t need to scroll till 3am.

attention is your most expensive currency.

every time you give it to something stupid, you’re telling your RAS: “this is what matters.”

→ unfollow people who drain you

→ clear your digital clutter

→ 1 hour a day = no screen, no noise, just you

→ read real books. journal like it’s a prayer. stare into space and let your brain breathe

your nervous system is a little animal you have to soothe it like one.

stop trying to “outthink” your trauma.

you have to out-feel it. (that’s what therapist are for)

you don’t need a new life.

you need a nervous system that can hold the life you already want.

nervous system magic:

• vagus nerve stim: humming, chanting, cold exposure, slow touch

• qigong, yoga, cat-cow movements

• barefoot on the earth

• safe connection: hug someone. or yourself. or a pillow. oxytocin heals.

• rest like a ritual: sleep in blackout, no screens 2 hours before bed, soft music, magnesium

build a focus temple in your life

focus is the biggest asset in today’s world

you can’t be god-level if you’re scattered.

ritualize your focus like monks light incense:

• pick one sacred hour of the day for deep work

• same playlist, same drink, same setup every time = anchors your brain

• eliminate all distractions. wear headphones. close tabs. put phone in another room.

• set timer. 25 mins on, 5 mins off. brain LOVES structure.

discipline is not punishment.

discipline is devotion to the future you.

final rituals: become a high-frequency brain baddie

• daily dopamine reset: no phone for first 30 mins. no junk food. movement > screen.

• write “evidence logs”: every time something good happens, write it down. builds trust.

• label your thoughts: not “i suck” → “this is a scarcity thought pattern. i choose abundance.”

• use scents to program memory — perfume, incense, oils = mood anchors

• mirror work: say it until your cells believe it

• microdoses of beauty: fresh flowers. sunlight. favorite song. brain food for the soul.

• romanticize boring shit: do dishes in your favourite pjs with some music. make your smoothie like it’s a spell. trick your brain into seeing the sacred in the mundane.

YOUR BODY IS YOUR TEMPLE, BUT YOUR BRAIN? IT’S THE ALTAR.

you wanna be a superstar? then you gotta treat your brain like a sacred device, a divine motherboard, a throne room where gods hold council.

no more trash inputs, okay?

• Omega-3s (salmon, walnuts, chia seeds): makes your brain juicy & sharp like a sword.

• Dark chocolate (real, not sugary junk): boosts serotonin and cognition.

• Avocados: healthy fats = smooth thinking.

• Blueberries: literal brain magic. anti-aging. memory-boosting. psychic fairy food.

• Green tea: focus, calm, clarity.

• Turmeric (with black pepper): anti-inflammatory. sharpens your third eye, no joke.

avoid: processed junk, white sugar, excess caffeine, soda these kill your neurons and steal your shine.

CRYSTALS FOR BRAINS THAT RULE REALITIES:

wanna think like a god? wear your altar. hold your ritual. program your crystals.

Fluorite

known as the “Genius Stone” clarity, order, concentration

Amethyst

balances moods, enhances spiritual downloads, calms anxiety

Clear Quartz

master healer amplifies any thought or intention

Labradorite

unlocks intuition, helps access creativity and divine inspiration

Lapis Lazuli

throat + third eye activation — confidence, insight, articulation

(there are more so please do your own research too)

SUBLIMINALS ARE PSYCHIC STEROIDS. USE THEM WISELY.

you wanna rewire your reality? go subliminal.

subliminals = messages that bypass your conscious filter and go straight into your subconscious (the part of your mind that rules 95% of your life).

use subliminals to:

• upgrade your looks (yes, facial structure and skin can shift)

• enhance intelligence, memory, learning speed

• remove limiting beliefs

• manifest luxury, fame, love, power, anything

• regulate emotions + trauma

listen while you sleep. stack affirmations. make your own. reprogram your thoughts like you’re rewriting code. (i personally don’t cause my head hurts but everyone on the internet seems to function fine after listening overnight so you do you, see what works for you)

“OUR EMOTIONS SHAPE OUR DESTINY.” – DR. LISA FELDMAN BARRETT

yes. that’s the queen.

Lisa Feldman Barrett – one of the most iconic modern psychologists.

she said: “Emotions are not just feelings. They are predictions your brain makes about the world.”

baby. this means your emotions aren’t just cute little inner weather reports

they’re codes. previews. they shape how you perceive the world and what you attract.

CONTROL EMOTIONS = CONTROL DESTINY

if you can master your emotional reactions, you can literally start sculpting your fate.

you’ll go from:

“omg why is this happening to me 🥺”

to:

“ah. this is a trigger. this is old wiring. time to reprogram it. thanks, universe.”

USE YOUR EMOTIONS AS FUEL:

• anger → power.

• sadness → transformation.

• jealousy → awareness of what you want.

• boredom → signal to evolve.

your emotions are tools. not curses. not weaknesses. tools.

REALITY IS THOUGHTS TURNED SOLID.

“Everything you see around you was once a thought. Literally.”

somebody thought about inventing the mug you’re sipping from.

somebody thought about the phone you’re scrolling this on.

somebody dreamed of stages and world tours and beauty empires and then built them from neurons.

so now let me ask you this, baby girl:

what are you thinking today?

what are you planting in the garden of your mind?

WHEN YOU FEEL STUCK, ASK:

• why am i resisting this task? (fear of failure? fear of success?)

• what would my highest self do right now?

• what does future me already know that i’m forgetting?

your brain is plastic. not like barbie plastic (although slay), i mean neuroplasticity —

it can change at any age. any moment. every time you choose a new thought, you’re choosing a new future.

what is neuroplasticity, actually?

in plain words?

neuroplasticity is your brain’s ability to change its structure, reorganize itself, rewire its own circuits, and literally form new connections depending on how you think, act, feel, and even imagine.

it’s the reason:

• you can learn to walk again after a stroke

• trauma can change your brain, but healing can rebuild it

• habits form. habits break. habits get replaced.

• you can literally manifest your desired personality, success, skills, vibe, life

the wiring in your brain is not fixed. you are not stuck. your thoughts? your behaviors? they’re rewiring you all day, every day.

you’re literally programming your brain just by being you.

spiritual + psychological fact:

whatever you consistently focus on

whatever emotion you regularly feel

whatever pattern you repeatedly fall into

that becomes your default neurocircuit.

but that also means:

if you build new ones intentionally you become a new you.

how to activate your neuroplasticity

1. Repetition + Intention = neural pathways

keep repeating what you want to believe/do/feel. over and over.

make it juicy. emotional. real. the brain learns through intensity and repetition.

“i am becoming a global icon. my voice moves millions. my presence reshapes reality.”

repeat that till your brain thinks it’s already true and soon, it will be.

2. Visualisation = neural rehearsal

your brain cannot tell the difference between what you vividly imagine and what’s actually happening.

this is why athletes, CEOs, artists they all visualize before they perform.

wanna become a pop icon?

close your eyes. picture the stage. feel the lights. the screams.

your brain begins to rewire as if you’re already that person.

this is called “functional neuroplasticity” — building new functions through mental rehearsal

3. Regulate your nervous system

your brain won’t rewire itself properly if you’re in fight or flight 24/7.

you have to feel safe enough to rewire.

do:

• breathwork (box breathing, alternate nostril)

• vagus nerve stimulation (gargling, cold plunges, humming)

• long nature walks

• grounding (barefoot on earth)

• magnesium-rich food + adaptogens

• meditate. but make it vibey.

4. Use tech to reprogram: SUBLIMINALS + AFFIRMATIONS

subliminals literally bypass your conscious brain and go straight to the subconscious.

pair them with:

• headphones (esp. binaural beats = brainwave entrainment)

• night time listening (again see what works for you and listen accordingly)

• theta wave frequencies (your subconscious is most open here)

your subconscious mind = the operating system.

subliminals = code updates. neuroplasticity = the install button.

APP RECCOMENDATION :- manifest

5. Journaling + affirmations = mirror neurons in action

when you write new beliefs (in present tense), your brain starts mirroring them.

especially if you do it in your own handwriting.

your brain’s like: “oh wait… we’re serious?? okay bet. rewiring now.”

6. Act like the version of you who has what you want

neuroplasticity loves behavior.

you don’t just think your way into new wiring, you act it.

so dress like her. walk like her. post like her. speak like her.

watch how the brain reconfigures itself into that version.

“act as if” is not delusion. it’s neuroscience.

also follow @emonthebrain on instagram she is a neuroscientist she makes reels on brain, neuroscience and how you can practically change your life by using neuroscience

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megalony · 11 months ago

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Just Hold On

This is my first time writing for Tyler Owens from Twisters, as I absolutely loved the film. I hope you will all like this.

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Masterlist

Summary: Tyler and (Y/n) head out together, just the two of them, away from the bustle of the team. But just as they're getting close to one another, a tornado blunders in their path.

(If anyone has any requests for Twisters I would love to hear them. Feedback is always lovely)

Enjoy.

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"You wanna get out of here?"

That one sentence had been enough to spark adrenaline through (Y/n)'s entire system and have her heart working on overload.

It had been something she had been waiting, hoping, praying to hear since the first moment she started to tag along with the 'tornado wranglers' and found herself getting close to the leader of the group. Tyler Owens. The man whose face was on a thousand t-shirts, sold all around the country in every state.

The man who acted like a beacon, like a daredevil who was so eager to put himself into dangerous situations without care or fault. But underneath, there was something endearing and almost bashful. Underneath all the boysterous exterior, there was someone who cared more for the safety of others than himself.

And (Y/n) wanted to be as close to him as she could.

It had been a bit of a surprise to find herself riding alone with Tyler in his modified, beat up truck, but she jumped at the chance to get away for a while.

It was a relief to escape the motel the group had been staying in. No more bonfires outside, no more strange, wild stories that got adapted and emboldened each time they were retold, depending on who told them. And going away from the motel saved (Y/n) from another night alone in her room, unsure what to do with herself.

Those words kept playing around in her head like a record as she sat in the quiet diner opposite Tyler. She wasn't sure why he'd asked her of all people to spend time with him this evening. There were better people he could be around, interesting people, his wrangler friends who never seemed to leave his side.

But none of that mattered now, because he'd asked her and here they were.

Her eyes lifted up from aimlessly staring at her drink to look at Tyler instead. He looked very relaxed. He was slightly slouched down to the left, one hand tapping quietly on the table beside his drink and the other hand drawing patterns on his thigh.

(Y/n) liked his shirt. She liked the black and blood red checkered button up he was wearing and the fact that he had the first three buttons undone. He also had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his lower arms and the veins that were popping up on his skin.

From the closeness, (Y/n) could also see the few scars littering his skin. She could see little white lines slashed against the top of his arms and the deeper white and baby pink scars on his hands that looked like they would have hurt some time ago. She hadn't noticed them before.

From looking at Tyler and seeing all the YouTube videos, everyone would assume he came out of each tornado unscathed. But the scars on his skin gaveaway that he was still human, he still cut and bled and he had indeed been in quite a few scrapes over the years.

"What're you thinking so intently about?" His quiet, gritty voice brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts and she found herself dragging her eyes up from his arms to look at his eyes instead.

Those pastel green eyes looked unusually wide today. (Y/n) watched his eyes narrow a little as his head tilted at an angle so he could look her up and down in a way that had her stomach turning to mush. And his eyes creased when his lips curved into a low smile that had his cheeks puffing up at the sides.

"Just… just thinking about the chase today, and if it will be the same tomorrow." It seemed like a plausable excuse considering today's tornado had been low level two.

Tyler said those were the better ones to drive into or drive through, as the wind speed was lower and therefore made it easier not to get sucked up into the whirlwind. As much as he liked to drive and run into danger head on, he also seemed to enjoy playing it safe in some ways. He knew when a tornado wasn't safe to go into or when it was time to take shelter rather than run into the winds, as it were.

"And there's me hoping you'd be thinking of me." His tone was playful and his forming smirk was enough to make (Y/n) raise a brow as she took a sip of her drink.

"Why didn't you want to stay at the motel tonight, with the others?"

(Y/n) pushed her drink into the middle of the table so she could fold her arms together and lean forward. Her head inclined as she waited patiently for Tyler to debate the question and think of an answer.

He sat up a bit straighter in the booth, his left hand still quietly tapping away on the end of the table while his other hand shifted to curl around his glass instead. He looked more natural like this when he didn't wear his hat. Although his hat did suit him increadibly well and it gave off a good image, it was still a good chance to see him with his short blond strands roaming free and shifting through the winds when they were outside int he night air.

The diner they had come to was quaint, seemingly in the middle of somewhere and nowhere at the same time. There was a small motel to the left, much smaller than the one they had come from twenty miles down the road. Across the street there was a twenty-four hour store next to a gas station and there was a few scattered houses in the distance. It seemed like a small, compact little place settled right in the middle between two large towns.

Tyler glanced around the diner. He hadn't been here before, but he remembered it was here when they drove past at least three times in the last week. That seemed like a coincidence, a sign telling him he had to stop here at least once and check it out.

There weren't many people here. A young couple at the far end. A mother and daughter the other way. A few workers and one lonesome person at the bar having a few drinks. It was quaint, quiet. Just what they needed after days of chasing tornados and being surrounded by noisy but loving friends.

"Sometimes it's nice to get away." Tyler reached out for his drink while his eyes remained on the girl sitting in front of him.

"What are you getting away from?" She spoke before she could think better of it, but Tyler didn't seem annoyed by her question. Instead, his smirk shifted into a funny half smile, half pout that crinkled the end of his nose.

"Everything… the cameras, the questions, the noise. What about you, what are you getting away from?"

Tyler had been more than intrigued when (Y/n) joined their group. She didn't strike him as the chasing type. The type to go willingly into danger, looking for fun and trouble and answers to nature's mysteries. But that wasn't to say he wasn't happy that she had joined them. She had insight, she had instinct when it came to the changes in weather and the wind patterns and her curiosity for these natural disastrous phenomenon matched Tyler's.

"I'm not, I'm just following your path."

"Right into danger," Tyler twirled his index finger around in circles beside his head with a wicked grin that could make anyone fall to their knees. "You must be crazy."

"Must be." (Y/n) murmured in agreement. There had to be some part of her that was mad or deluded to do this, to do what the rest of Tyler's team was doing. Following him into the line of danger simply because they all believed in him and what he was doing.

But (Y/n) knew it wasn't just a strange, crazed part of her brain that let her follow Tyler's lead, wherever that lead. She knew the other reason she had stuck with them for so long now was because she couldn't will herself to leave. To leave Tyler. He had her heart in his hands and she didn't want it back.

(Y/n) found herself starting to become lost in her thoughts again until Tyler suddenly pushed forward in his seat and leaned over the table. He picked up his glass and downed the last remnants before tapping it against the table with a wide grin.

"Shall we?"

It wasn't clear whether Tyler was planning on getting back in the truck and going straight back to the motel, whether he was thinking of driving around for a while. Or maybe he had it in mind to walk around here first and delay their return. (Y/n) wasn't sure, but she nodded her head and went along with him, she was fine with whatever he chose.

She shuffled out the booth and moved to walk by his side, realising they were close enough that their arms were brushing together.

When Tyler held open the door that chimed a bell, signalling their departure, (Y/n) dipped her head and headed out in front of him.

Their steps fell back in sync as (Y/n) followed Tyler's path towards the truck that was parked across on the left, near the quaint but rather grimey motel.

She was about to try and strike up another conversation until Tyler moved. Without looking her way or breaking his stride, his left hand reached out for her hand. He moved slow, testing the waters as he took her hand in his, meshing their palms together and slowly entwining their fingers together. Giving (Y/n) ample time to pull her hand away and back out if she didn't want to.

But he dipped his head down when he felt her fingers squeeze his hand with intensity and she held to him just as tightly. He began to glide his thumb over the back of her hand and ticked his head to the left, a small but sincerely genuine smile plastered across his lips as he looked at her.

The silence between them was comfortable and seemed to speak volumes in itself. (Y/n) found that one of them- she wasn't sure who- had moved even closer so that their arms were now pressed flush together and if she really wanted to, she could lean her cheek on his arm.

She could feel his thumb gliding over the back of her hand every now and then and she tried to stop herself from squeezing her fingers against his hand too often. Their steps slowed down as they approached the truck as if they were both trying to drag this moment out and make it last into an eternity. Not that they couldn't make this evening stretch on if they got in the truck, they could take a longer route to get back. They could drive somewhere else or drive around aimlessly if they wanted.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what to do when they reached the red truck that was hidden behind layers of dirt and caked on mud and flecks of grit. She had one mind to reach out and open the passenger door and climb up, but that meant letting go of Tyler's hand, and she really didn't want to do that.

Instead, she opted for turning so her back was against the door, allowing her to look up at Tyler instead. She found her back pressing back on the door and she hoped there wouldn't be an outline or an imprint of her frame on the door when she eventually pulled away.

Her head tilted back to get a better look up at him and her heart leaped into her throat when Tyler stepped forward. Their hands stayed tangled together. Tyler's right hand pressed against the roof of the truck, allowing him a good angle to look and lean down into (Y/n)'s view.

His head inclined down until they were impossible close, less than half an inch of space between them. All (Y/n) had to do was turn her head and their noses would brush and their lips would touch. She was so close to those red lips that were curved into a smile, not a grin.

Not his usual smirk or that cheeky grin that meant he was going to do something rash or make a joke or try to enlighten the situation and make fun of what they were doing.

The look was kind, caring and seemingly thought out, rather than rash and impulsive.

"Can I?"

(Y/n) barely heard his words and she wasn't quite sure why he was asking when she knew she was at the point of smiling up at him. If she didn't want him to be this close or get any closer, she would have backed away or given him a shove by now.

The feeling of Tyler's lips on hers was something (Y/n) had been imagining for a while now, and something that beat every thought and expectation she had.

She could feel Tyler trying desperately not to smile against her and distort the kiss. And his hand tightened around hers while his other hand moved to cup the side of her face and incline her head more to meet his touch.

When her lips parted, it felt like Tyler was trying to take the little air she had in her lungs and she found herself gasping against his lips, desperately wanting his touch but also needing air.

Tyler's lips curved into a lighthearted smile when they finally pulled apart and their temples rested together. He began to smooth his thumb along the curve of her jaw and up towards her lips that tasted like cherry lip balm. Their noses brushed and when he sucked in a few breaths, Tyler couldn't resist leaning back down for another kiss.

He felt (Y/n) push off the truck and mould their chests together, leaning into him just enough to nudge him onto his back foot and push them both away from the truck. She didn't want to get in the truck yet. She didn't want this moment to end, and neither did he.

"You know, I've-"

Words formed in Tyler's mind like a whirlwind. Everything he wanted to tell her, to say that he had been in agony wanting to kiss her for days, weeks, now. He hoped she felt the same. He wanted to make tonight last into an eternity and stay in this little bubble they had created together. He wanted to continue kissing (Y/n) until the world ended.

But none of those thoughts made it past his lips when something caught his attention.

A shift in the atmosphere. A change in the wind. A very harsh chill collided against his back and almost knocked him off balance.

The wind made goosebumps rise on his flesh and had the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. And another gust of wind sent chills down his spine and made him feel every little speck of dust and grit that rose from the floor and scuttled through the air and knocked against his skin.

Tyler's hand paused, cupping (Y/n)'s cheek and his fingers slotted tighter into the grooves of her hand as he tilted his head back to look up into the night sky.

It felt familiar. It felt daunting.

(Y/n)'s hand clutching his shoulder brought Tyler back and he looked down at her to find that she wasn't looking at him. His name fell past her lips in a dry whisper and Tyler turned to look over his shoulder to find out what (Y/n) was so intently staring at, although he had a gut instinct that he already knew what would be behind him.

A tornado.

A gust of wind circling through the air, picking up in the atmosphere, creating a whirlwind that was mounting and doubling in size.

Why now? Why tonight? Why right here? Right when things were finally going well, when Tyler was finally about to have something different in his life, someone different who wanted him just as badly. They didn't want or need a force of nature interferring tonight, but it was too late.

The tornado was getting closer. The wind was picking up and it was moving across the road in a sporadic pattern that was shifting and changing every second. If Tyler tried to drive through that they would get picked up and ripped apart into oblivion. There wasn't time to try and drive in the other direction, they couldn't outrun a tornado, they could only follow and drive into them.

Tyler's hand dropped from (Y/n)'s face to grip her waist with a sudden desperation while his wide eyes stared around them, trying to find the best place to be. Where was the best place to hide? Did the motel or the diner have a cellar?

The diner had a window on every wall, it was more glass than wall and that wasn't good. Hiding in there meant being close to broken glass and tables and chairs would go flying.

The motel was one story, not like the one they were staying at in the next town which had two floors and a lot more rooms than this. It wouldn't be a safe bet either unless there was a cellar or a storm shelter in the grounds. The shop and the gas station didn't look to be much better and Tyler didn't want to be anywhere near inflammables. The storm could knock things over and rip up the gas pipes. Fires could start and they would go up in flames.

"We have to help them."

He wasn't sure who (Y/n) was talking about for a moment until she used their tangled hands to point towards the motel.

People were starting to rush about. A woman was trying to hurry her daughter towards a car. She was never going to drive through this, their car would be taken from the road and they would never survive.

A quiet "Come on," passed Tyler's lips as he turned on his heels and started to run. He kept his hand tightly tangled with (Y/n)'s, keeping her as close as he could so he didn't lose her in the chaos that was about to ensue.

He felt her other hand curl around his bicep, making sure they stayed tethered together so nothing separated them.

"No, no stop!" Tyler waved his free hand out in front of him, desperate to get the woman's attention as she tried to lift her daughter into the car. "You can't drive in this, we need to find shelter."

He reached out for her arm, not attempting to move or drag her away from the car at all, but just to try and show the desperation he felt and make sure she understood they were only trying to help.

The woman eyed him carefully, tears already falling down her face as she held her daughter against her chest, trembling horribly. But she nodded. Either she knew who he was and knew he had been in this situation before, or she had some sort of instinct that Tyler was trying to help.

She juggled her daughter higher on her chest, kicked the car door shut and turned to follow them. She wasn't sure where they were going, but she would go any way they led if it meant keeping herself and her child safe.

The four of them burst into the motel reception and it was the first time Tyler let go of (Y/n)'s hand. A wave of unease overtook her and she could feel goosebumps travelling up her arm from her empty hand. But when she looked up at Tyler, she found he was already looking at her, as if making sure she was still there now he had let go.

Once satisfied, Tyler slammed his hands down on the desk to get the worker's attention.

(Y/n) tried to look around, but she couldn't see anything. The door to the back room was open, but there didn't seem to be anywhere leading to a cellar or a bunker room or anywhere that looked remotely safe.

She could barely hear Tyler arguing with two men, trying to ask one if there was a storm shelter and tell the other to shut up because there was a tornado approaching. Her arms cocooned around her chest and she spun in circles until she stopped and looked out the window.

Where could they go? Would they be safe enough staying in here? Maybe they could cramp behind the desk, but that didn't feel like a safe option, not when there were at least seven of them here in the reception. Too many to cramp together. The motel could be destroyed if the tornado was big enough, staying inside might not be safe.

Her body flinched at seeing plastic tables and flimsy chairs flying across the grounds outside the window.

Going back outside didn't seem favourable, until (Y/n) squinted in the darkness to see where the chairs were coming from and what was behind the fence up ahead.

She spun on her heels and moved towards Tyler who was close to slamming his fists on the desk in anger because no one seemed to be taking him seriously apart from the mother and her daughter. But the tension fizzled out of his body when he felt two familiar hands on either of his arms. He looked over at (Y/n) as she pressed up into his side.

"There's a pool."

"It's empty this time of year."

"We're not going swimming. Come on." Tyler waved his hand at them, relieved to see the mother, her daughter, and the reception worker were moving to follow. The other couple seemed intent on staying in here and complaining, waiting for the tornado they didn't believe in to come and ravage the motel that would undoubtedly be in its path.

They weren't trying to go for a late night swim and water wouldn't be the safest place to hide during a disaster like this. But pools were deep, at least one end would be very deep. It would act as a shelter, safely made of concrete and built into the ground. It would give them some cover and keep them from being whisked up into the air and taken by the wind.

(Y/n) found her hand clasped in Tyler's once again and she followed him out into the blistering wind, the others following close behind.

It was hard to keep her eyes open and she had to tilt her head down towards her feet to keep pushing forward. Her forehead pressed into Tyler's arm and she gasped, her body shaking as a chair whipped past them, breaking apart mid-air as it got pulled in too many different directions all at once.

As soon as Tyler wrenched open the small gate, it flung back with so much force the hinges started to squeak and break apart. He pushed ahead and leaned over the edge of the pool, checking just to make sure it was truly empty. The last thing they needed was to find it full of murky water that wouldn't provide them any sanctuary.

It was empty.

"Go, go!"

(Y/n) would have preferred someone else to take the lead and go down first, but she could see the mother and the receptionist looking at her. Waiting for her to move, to show them what to do and prove that it was going to be okay and that it was safe. And Tyler wasn't going down there until everyone else was there and towards safety first.

She shakily let go of his hand and twisted around to grab the metal rails that were thankfully drilled so far into the tiles that they would remain stable during the raging winds.

She climbed down half the steps before jumping the rest, she didn't want to waste time.

Once she was down, (Y/n) could feel her balance shifting. The floor was sloped towards the left which was obviously the deep end and combined with the raging winds that were almost forcing her off her feet, she couldn't stand straight.

Her eyes squinted through the weather and she stretched her arms up for the little girl. No point wasting time when they could just pass her down this way.

Once the girl was safely in her arms, (Y/n) clung to her and looked around. the pool must have been in the middle of renovation, for one wall was broken apart so the pipes were revealed. Just what they needed, something to cling to.

She let go of the girl once her mother had clambered down the steps and took hold of her again. "Go to the pipes."

(Y/n) bound her arms around her waist and stood to one side, if it could be called standing when she was being shaken from foot to foot, leaning every which way the wind blew her. Once the worker and Tyler clambered down into the sanctuary of the empty pool, (Y/n) moved closer but her arms stretched out towards them when each of them heard the motel sign begin to creak.

Sparks flew in all directions, casting golden splinters into the wind and the sheets of hail that were flying all around them. The sign swayed and rattled and groaned until finally the metal gave way and snapped apart, falling directly in their path.

None of them could move quick enough and everything seemed to happen at the speed of light.

Both (Y/n)'s arms bound around Tyler when he backed up into her and she felt his hand clamp down on her left hip so tightly his fingers were going to bruise into her skin and his nails were piercing through her jeans. She felt his back slam into her chest and the pair of them slammed down to the floor as the sign landed in front of them, only one inch away from crushing their legs.

It separated them from the receptionist who was shrieking in panic, cast across the other side of the pool.

"Okay?" Tyler managed to splutter as he tilted his head back into (Y/n)'s shoulder and looked up at her through squinting eyes. He watched her nod and he could feel each rapid breath she took which fanned against his back.

He gave her hip a squeeze before he peeled his hand off of her hip and flopped over so he was lying on his stomach. He couldn't stand up. If he did the wind would take him. He had to spread his weight out across the floor so he was heavier and harder to be moved by nature.

He could feel (Y/n) shifting behind him so she was in the same crouching position.

"Go."

"But-"

"Hurry and don't let go." He flung his hand towards the other end of the pool where the pipes were. He needed (Y/n) to stay safe, he would help the man who was still shrieking on the other side of the collapsed sign.

Twisting around, Tyler tried to army crawl along the floor but he was sliding towards the left. His teeth gritted together so tightly it felt like they were going to disintegrate and his jaw was pulsing.

"Stay down- just- no. Stay down, let me help!" He felt like a broken record, repeating various versions of those words but to no avail.

The man wasn't listening to him. He was desperate not to be swept away by the gushing winds, but he wasn't heeding the advice he was being given. If he stood up he would be a target for the winds, he would be easier to move and liable to falling. Staying laid on the ground was his best bet.

"Help me!"

"Get down-" Tyler's hand slammed into the floor and split apart the skin covering his knuckles as a scream left his lips when the man got up.

The tornado got him.

It claimed him as one of its many victims. The moment he was on his wobbling feet, he stumbled backwards, flung his arms out, and took flight like an ailing bird caught in the sea breeze. He was gone. There was no helping him or getting him back. He had been taken and Tyler couldn't do anything. Maybe he would of been better off staying in the motel.

"Tyler!"

He crained his neck to look over his right shoulder and glanced back at the three girls behind him. They were cowering against the pipes like they were in some form of protest.

The mother had her whole frame curled around her daughter who had both small arms tangled around the pipes. If the wind picked up anymore her arms looked like they might break, but it was securing her from a weightless death in the air and that was all that mattered.

But it was (Y/n) who held Tyler's attention. Her arm bound around a pipe and her hand clinging to the one below to anchor herself down. Her legs were trying desperately to curl up into her stomach but they were starting to flail around in the air. And her other hand kept moving out in Tyler's direction, grasping for his attention to tell him to get over to them. He had to move. He had to come over and stay safe with them. (Y/n) couldn't lose him.

Tyler's teeth ground together causing a splitting ache in his jaw as he slammed his arms down on the concrete ground. He could feel the pads of his fingers beginning to split and grate against the floor as he shuffled along on his front. It felt odd, army-crawling along like this with the wind trying to lift his legs from the ground and pick him up.

More often than not when a tornado was approaching, Tyler was in the truck driving head first into it. He wasn't hanging around on the side of the road or taking cover in an abandoned pool.

Groans and yells clawed past his lips as he got closer and closer to his destination. To (Y/n).

He could feel his knees scraping against the floor when the wind tried to drag him backwards and he pushed up on his left arm just enough to stretch out his hand.

The feeling of (Y/n)'s hand enveloping around his was the lifeline Tyler needed and she used what little strength she could spare from holding herself steadfast to drag Tyler closer.

Once he was close enough, (Y/n) managed to let go of his hand so she could bind her arm around the pipe again. She couldn't afford not to hang on when she could barely keep her legs from flailing around in the air. Her eyes snapped closed and her forehead pressed against one of the larger copper pipes. It didn't feel like a good move when the wind shook her head and had her temple bashing against the pipe. But it was preferable to having her neck break when her head wobbled every which way but loose.

She could feel Tyler behind her, wedging himself in between her and the mother and daughter. Right in the centre in case either of them let go or needed help or something happened. Ready for action.

But surprise flooded (Y/n)'s stomach with adrenaline when she felt him move.

Tyler's left arm secured over (Y/n)'s arm and his hand clutched desperately next to hers. His chest moulded down over (Y/n)'s back, his arm pinned down over her like he was a blanket securing around her and his right arm reached up to cling to the higher pipe. Both Tyler's legs pressed up into the back of (Y/n)'s knees from the way he was kneeling on the floor and it made (Y/n) feel like she was sitting on his lap. But she didn't care.

He was moulded around her, trying to keep her safe and shield her from the elements. And when he tipped his head down, (Y/n) was sure that despite the raging winds, the whistling sound of metal flying through the air and the distant screams, she could hear him breathing into her hair. It was almost as if he was kissing the top of her head with each harsh breath he took.

"Just Hold on." His voice was loud to compete with the raging winds but it sounded so hollow and quiet in (Y/n)'s ears.

She found herself holding tighter, curling up even smaller, pushing her back against his chest. Doing whatever she felt she could to try and stay where she was and ground herself until the tornado was gone. How long would that be? Was it going to disappear soon? Would it continue and grow larger and suck in the nearby winds and clouds? Would any of them be able to hold on for much longer?

(Y/n) knew if the winds weren't whipping at her face so much, she would have burst into tears by now. She could feel a few leaving the corners of her eyes and being wrenched off into the winds, but those were tears of desperation. Tears trying to moisten her eyes and prevent them from cracking or becoming glued shut with grit and dirt.

She wasn't even close to shedding tears of fear and agony yet. Those would happen once the weather faded, she knew it for sure.

The panic (Y/n) could feel circulating through each and every part of her body momentarily died down when she felt Tyler move. His left arm that had been pinned beside hers briefly let go of the pipe and his iron clad arm bound around (Y/n)'s waist instead.

The action caused her to suck in a deeper breath which shocked her lungs that were trying to take shallow breaths as not to inhale any dust or little objects flying through the air. She couldn't open her eyes yet, but she could feel his arm right around her waist and his elbow digging securely into her side just above her hip.

He tugged her back closer to his chest so there was no inch of space between them and his hand secured around a lower pipe so he could hold them both down.

"Stay down, I got you."

He wad anchoring them both together, keeping steadfast despite the elements.

Neither of them quite believed it when the raging winds finally started to die down. In a matter of moments, it was if a switch had been flicked. Everything stopped. Plastic chairs stopped flying through the air. Metal beams and broken chunks of plastic and wires stopped taking flight and were no longer dangerous weapons of nature.

Cars crashed down to the floor and the road, breaking apart on impact, wheels spinning and crashing off into different directions.

Destruction was all that was left in the tornado's wake.

(Y/n) felt her legs slump against the floor and her body slumped to the right, clattering against the pipes now that the wind wasn't lifting her up anymore. She felt Tyler somewhat cushion her fall as she fell back into him and she realised his face was still tucked down against the top of her head. Now she could hear his harsh breaths fanning against her hair which almost felt like he was kissing her head.

Each breath Tyler took was ragged and harsh and made his chest heave and push out against her back. And (Y/n) found herself finally able to open her eyes as she flopped her head back against his shoulder. The action caused him to lift his head, but he simply pressed his lips against her temple this time and kissed her forehead.

She stayed still and horribly tense as Tyler shifted around and wrenched his hands away from the pipes, but his left arm remained steadfast around (Y/n)'s waist.

He looked to his right and reached his free hand out for the woman's elbow, a soft yet slightly bewildered look in his eyes as he croaked "Are you okay?" To which she nodded and hugged her daughter closer who seemed to be mute in utter shock and despair.

"What about you, are you alright?" Tyler looked down at (Y/n) and rested his lips back against the top of her head again but he sighed when he looked at her. He could see her hands were welded onto the pipes, trembling but holding tight, unable to let go for fear of being whisked away into the atmosphere.

He felt (Y/n) try and nod her head but she stopped when he reached his free hand out and carefully curled his fingers around her hand.

"You're okay, you can let go now." His words were so quiet (Y/n) wondered if she had imagined them and she found her hands trembling horribly when Tyler carefully peeled them away.

She dropped her hands down and clutched at his forearms, leaning her head at an angle so she could look up at him better. He looked dashing from this angle, even after an event like that. His hair was barely tousled, only a few strands out of place. He had a few cuts on his hands and exposed arms and no doubt he would have a few bruises, but he looked relatively unscathed.

"And you?" (Y/n) gulped croakily, squeezing his arm as she continued to look him over, checking for any sign of injury that would need attending to.

"I'm fine."

He nudged his temple against the side of her head and closed his eyes for a few seconds to try and regulate his system. He wasn't used to seeing tornados up close like that unless the truck was involved. It had been a while since he had been through one on the ground like that.

"You know," (Y/n) started through deep breaths and welling tears. "I prefer tornados when you drive through them, Mr Wrangler."

Her words had a wide, toothy grin spreading across Tyler's lips and he let out a breathless laugh before he leaned forward to steal a kiss from her slightly chapped lips. Then another. And another.

"Me too, sweetheart."

#imagine #tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #tyler x reader #tyler owens x reader #twisters fanfic #tyler owens fic

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writtenbymoonflower · 1 year ago

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hello! I'm not sure if your requests are open, but could I ask for some hurt/comfort with poly!marauders with an autistic reader?

maybe reader has a meltdown because of sensory overload and they help her through it?

thank you so much! I love your writing xxx

thank you so much for requesting! poly!marauders x autistic fem!reader

cw: description of sensory overload, autistic meltdown/panic attack, brief mentions of unsafe stimming

943 words

By the time your building was in sight, you felt every ounce of adrenaline leave your body. You had been holding on by a fraying thread all day, taking every searing feeling of overwhelm in stride. Your hands were raw and scraped from digging your nails into your flesh, and your jaw was tight and aching from being permanently clenched.

Usually, work wasn’t this stressful for you. There were difficulties for sure, but it was familiar and predictable. Today however, there had been a company mixer involving all of the branches of your company. The building was hot and crowded with bodies, everyone was talking over each other, there were new people constantly trapping you in mundane conversation, and it was all just too much. It felt like every aspect of the event was scheming for your demise. You made it, though. You were as friendly as you could muster and you hoped your simmering discomfort was mostly imperceptible to your coworkers. Unfortunately for you however, the come down was worse than the overwhelm itself.

You kicked your pinching shoes off the minute you stepped through the door, wanting to rid yourself of all sensation. You rushed to your room to undress. All of your clothes were itching painfully into your skin and it was enough to make you want to scream. You tugged your blouse off, not even bothering to throw it in the hamper. Your hands were so shaky that you pinched your fingers in the zipper of your skirt. You were already close to tears, but when you punctured your stockings while tugging them off, it all caught up to you. You crumpled into a heap on the floor, shivering from the biting cold in the room. You rolled yourself into a ball as small as possible on the floor, shaking as tears rolled down your face. Everything was too much. You weren’t sure how long you had stayed like that, rocking back and forth and shaking your hands, as if you could shake off the crawling on your skin. In your overwhelmed state you didn’t notice the door open, or the footsteps rapidly approaching your room.

“Baby?” A voice was panicked, rushing over to you and crouching on the floor. You recognized the smell first, Sirius’ woodsy and fruity scent. His hands reached out to grab you before quickly retreating, not wanting to add to your state. “Baby, did you hurt yourself?” You shook your head rapidly, still choking on sobs. You winced as Sirius yelled. “Prongs! Moons!” They appeared in the doorway almost immediately, recognizing the urgency in his voice.

“James, get the blanket.” Remus ordered. They had seen this happen a few times before but it didn’t make them panic any less. It was difficult for them to see you in pain, especially when there was no visible injury to tend to. You were still shaking, biting your hand compulsively. Remus was firm but kind as he kept you safe from yourself. “Honey, I need you to be gentle, okay?” You didn’t respond but still obeyed. Soon, a warm and heavy blanket was placed over your shoulders, it helped to calm your shaking, but you were still crying.

“Will a hug help, lovie?” You nodded, craving the pressure. James pulled you onto his lap and squeezed you tight. The compression was wonderfully grounding, as if you could feel all the pain being juiced from your system like a lemon. He released you too soon, but you knew he was just being cautious. You tended to not know when pressure was too much, especially when you were in this state. It wasn’t rare for you to have bruises on your hands from squeezing or sitting on them when you got stressed. Still, you now felt calmer.

“Remmy, can you turn the lights off please? The buzzing hurts.” You winced. He scrambled up to do so, in a way you knew likely hurt his aching joints. Your brain began to quiet down, your system being cleansed from the unwelcome and intrusive sensations of the day. “Thank you.” You mumbled, playing with your fingers.

“Don’t thank us, baby.” Sirius wrapped the heavy blanket further around your shoulders. “Did something happen today?”

You shook your head. “Not really, just a bunch of little things. It was just a lot, I didn’t expect it to affect me so much.” You said the last part with a bit too much shame for the boys liking.

“Sometimes you don’t know until it’s happening.” James said gently. “I’m sorry it was a hard day, lovie.”

“Is there anything more we can do?” Sirius said restlessly. He hates that this happens to you, it makes him wish he could wrap you in warm, quiet darkness and hold you to his chest, shutting all the pain out.

You thought for a second. “I think I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten yet today. I was too distracted.” You knew the boys were still feeling especially tender, since you weren’t scolded.

“Why don’t we order a takeaway?” Remus suggested. “That way we can just relax for a bit.” He stroked your exposed knee with his fingers.

“I think that Greek place is open.” James said before you could answer. “I’ll get the menu.”

“Do you wanna move to the settee, sweet girl?” Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulders. When you nodded he helped you stand up and ushered you to the sofa, wrapping you in more warm blankets when goosebumps rose. James handed you the remote.

“Pick what you want, lovie.” James sat on your other side, caging you in wonderfully. You were again covered in sensation, but this time it was welcome and comforting.

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nanamineedstherapy · 3 months ago

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Why yo JJK Daddy won't fuck you in his domain

Questions We Were Too Afraid to Ask About Gojo's Domain Mid-Fiuck

Q.) Would a normal human suffocate in Gojo’s Infinite Void? Is it a slow death by asphyxiation, or something worse?

Ans.) Okay, picture this: you’re trapped in a space where time, reality, and the very fabric of your sanity start glitching out like a Windows XP error screen. Now ask yourself—would you be thinking about oxygen, or would your brain already be deep-fried beyond recognition? Let’s break it down:

Instant Incapacitation: The moment Infinite Void activates, your brain is force-fed an infinite stream of information. It’s like trying to read every Wikipedia article at once while someone screams quantum physics into your ear. You don’t even get the chance to feel yourself suffocate—because you’re already mentally done before your lungs even remember they exist.

Infinity’s Environmental Control: Gojo controls space at an atomic level, right? If he can stop physical objects but still let oxygen in when fighting, then he’s probably not sealing his Domain like a vacuum chamber. Your lungs might be fine, but your brain? Completely bricked.

Domain Mechanics: Domains are spiritual barriers, not physical ones. While they trap targets, they don’t inherently cut off external airflow unless the user explicitly designs them to (e.g., a water-based Domain). Gojo’s focus is on information overload, not environmental sabotage.

Verdict: You’re not suffocating. You’re getting an eternal brain freeze while Gojo stands there looking pretty. If death had a blue screen of death, this would be it.

TDLR: You die, but not from lack of air. You die because your brain is sent to the fifth dimension against its will long before suffocating can become an issue.

Q.) What if he's like having sexy times with his wife and he like you know…. arrives at the station and accidently activates it then would she suffocate????

Ans.) Picture the surreal horror of an intimate moment shattered by cosmic miscalculation. Even in this absurd scenario, suffocation remains unlikely. Here’s why:

Activation Demands Total Focus: Gojo’s Infinite Void requires hand signs and chanting. If he’s “arriving at the station” mid-sexy-time, his brain is probably focused on… other priorities. Domain Expansions demand intense concentration—hard to pull off when you’re, uh, distracted. Or, Infinite Void isn’t a button you can hit by accident. It requires precise hand signs and an unwavering focus—a mental state that’s nearly impossible to maintain when you're caught in a passionate embrace. Your mind is split between desire and duty, and the latter simply can’t be achieved halfway. Or, Infinite Void isn’t a sneeze; it’s a full-on hand-sign-chanting-mind-focus event. If he’s “arriving at the station,” his brain is, let’s just say… preoccupied. And last I checked, you need at least some mental bandwidth to activate a Domain Expansion.

Even If It Happens (Somehow, Someway)-Infinity’s Autopilot: Even if he somehow activated it, his Limitless technique subconsciously filters threats. Air molecules = allowed. Suffocation = blocked. The Domain’s true purpose is to flood the target’s consciousness with overwhelming data, not to create a suffocating prison. His wife would still get oxygen—just also get a front-row seat to the cosmos screaming into her brain. Or, Gojo’s Infinity is basically his body's automatic firewall. If it filters poison gas, it sure as hell filters air molecules. His wife isn’t suffocating—she’s just getting front-row seats to cosmic horror at 4K resolution. Imagine mid-sex and suddenly, BAM—the entire universe starts whispering forbidden knowledge into your skull.

The Real Danger-Instant Neural Shutdown: Instead of a slow demise by lack of air, the person caught in the void would experience a rapid collapse of their mental faculties. Imagine an instantaneous, existential blue-screen of death—where your brain is the system crashing, not your lungs giving out. Or, she wouldn’t be gasping for air. She’d be locked in place, her mind thrown into a spiraling existential meltdown while Gojo panics, like, “Oh shit, wrong expansion—”

Gojo Would Shut That Shit Down IMMEDIATELY: Domains burn a ton of energy—he’d collapse it within seconds, realizing his mistake (and probably screaming in horror). Then he’d spend the next 72 hours groveling with limited-edition crepes and emergency foot rubs.

Verdict: So, while the headcanon is as wild as it is darkly humorous, the outcome isn’t a suffocation scenario. It’s a catastrophic, instantaneous mental overload—a cosmic “oops” that leaves you with nothing but a shattered psyche. So just trauma and a very awkward conversation with Shoko later.

TDLR: You know how you need to focus to get the optimal velocity in bed? It’s the same for him. He’s either focusing on the sex or the Domain—he can’t do both. (I know all men do is lie. SMH. Men right.)

And for this reason alone, NONE of your JJK Dads/Moms are fucking you in their Domains.

…Except maybe Takaba. But only if you’re funny enough. And even then, you’ll never know if he’s laughing with you or at you.

PS: These deductions are based on watching everything way too closely. If you disagree, let’s argue—after all, the void is infinite, and so are our headcanons.

Double PS, read comments. There's more deep discussion going on.

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everytimewetouch-dot-mp3 · 7 months ago

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I am DEATHLY curious about your most recent (stunning, beautiful, awesome) omegaverse svsss au. How does shen yuan act about being an omega??? Is he bombarded with new instincts and impulses that he, the king of denial/repression, just never acts upon? I’m also really interested in how he overall reacts to binghe’s overall alpha-ness

im sorry it took me so long to get to your ask!! i wanted to wait until i had time to properly write out a reply, and holiday travel is exhausting. ANYWAYS. im almost certainly gonna have way too much to say about this lmao, im sorry in advance (update. i just finished writing. there’s…there’s a lot, im sorry lmaooo)

when sy transmigrates into essentially an OC, the system does him the courtesy of ensuring he pops into existence with some medicinal teas used as suppressants. he entered the body in a state where it was using qi to suppress inconvenient instincts and impulses. so when he first arrived, he had a few days with the knowledge that he was an omega before the instincts and impulses started hitting with a force he couldn’t ignore. my mans was like ‘oh being an omega isn’t too bad; idk why airplane made it seem like such a big deal in the book’ etc etc.

once the suppression wears off, though, poor sy is kind of taken out with a migraine just from the overload of scent information. while his body has been parsing that kind of information for who knows how long (sy surely doesn’t!! he has no idea how old this body is!!), he’s kind of overwhelmed by this new stream of information he simply never had before. he adjusts pretty quickly to the scents and pheromones aspect of being an omega (as much as he can without any other alphas or omegas around, of course).

it’s the instinct and impulse bit that’s given him trouble.

the nesting drive is both new and summarily dismissed as a quirk of this new body. it just likes to be surrounded in soft things. what’s wrong with that? everybody likes being comfortable, and even little kids feel safe from scary monsters when they’re covered in blankets. never mind that he spends 45 minutes and one near-breakdown arranging the bedding in the first inn he stays at. that’s just because he’s frustrated from all the walking he’s been doing. and no, he’s not purring once he gets it right, because people don’t do that. it’s a sigh, tyvm.

(he just tunes out the sound of purring after a while. it’s inconvenient information he’s not ready or equipped to deal with, so he simply decides it doesn’t exist.)

the omegan vocalizations give him a lot of trouble, tbh. at one point in his wandering, he wanders into a little town. after playing a very strange game of hide and seek with the local children (they are both hiding and seeking, peeking around corners to watch sy and running away as soon as he looks at them), the oldest leads him to her parents’ house. he stays with them for a few days and can’t help his pleased chirping whenever the pups—children! the children!!—bring him cool rocks or interesting plants. he tells his hosts stories and they give him warm spiced tea, and his pleased chirp startles his hosts so badly they nearly drop the pot. (most people never meet alphas or omegas, though they know how to identify them.

when he meets lbh, every bit of self control sy thought he had is tested. he’s coming off of days of being stressed, afraid, and in pain, and he’s sure to his bones that lbh is going to kill him. sy becomes jumpy, finds himself sleeping better in confined spaces (under the bed, under a pile of blankets, in the corner of the room after moving blankets/furniture to construct a little den for himself). his purring is scratchy and stuttered and near-constant whenever someone else is around (self-soothing purring sounds far less smooth than contented purring. everyone in the palace can tell the difference).

at the same time, there’s something about lbh (his scent his voice his aura of deadly control) that has sy wanting to be close. he writes it off as the protagonist halo. of course being around lbh feels both like having a knife at his throat and like coming home for the first time in years—he’s the protagonist and sy is an omega! it’s unfortunately inevitable that he’d want to be around lbh at least a little bit. when lbh gives sy a heavily scented outer robe, sy adds it to his nest and immediately shifts across the room from it, glaring and keening and wringing his hands as if it were an invader that arrived on its own.

when lbh tries to use his alpha voice on sy to get him away from sj, shen yuan is livid. he feels small and violated and deeply disrespected, and he refuses to see lbh when he has the choice, and denies him the opportunity to scent mark him when he doesn’t have the choice to stay away. lbh doesn’t use alpha voice on him again, but sy is too busy being furious and hurt to pick up the dark, burning scent of pain and regret coming from lbh. besides, if lbh were truly sorry, he’d say something instead of stinking up the place with his stupid alpha pain.

eventually, being away from lbh for so long after frequent regular contact with him starts…getting to sy. after a week or two of the silent treatment, lbh finally forces a conversation where he doesn’t really apologize but at least acknowledges that he offended his new omega. sy takes it for the peace offering it is and allows lbh to scent him again. except. sy had basically been rolling around in lbh’s alpha scent since he arrived at the palace, and after a week without it, his body was less than pleased with the thought that his alpha had abandoned him. so when he’s scented again and given a new robe for his nest, sy kind of…goes into heat a little bit.

this has never happened to him before. he doesn’t realize what’s going on until a full day in, when he’s cramping so badly he can’t get out of bed and his bedding is soaked through with all manner of fluids. sweat, slick, tears. there are a lot of tears. a lot more than he expected. and besides feeling terrified and being in a surprising amount of pain (wasn’t heat supposed to be sexy, airplane?!?!?!!), sy is weirdly lonely. there’s this ache in the back of his mind, this animal part of him yowling at the wrongness of going through this alone. his alpha is supposed to be with him. his alpha isn’t with him. his alpha doesn’t want him.

so he cries a lot, the first couple of days. can’t help it. he’s hot, he’s aching, he’s empty, he’s horny, he’s desperately lonely, and even though he’s alone, he feels absolutely humiliated by all this nonsense. being an omega is bullshit, actually. shen yuan wants a knot in his ass and a refund on this whole experience.

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bun-unit22 · 11 months ago

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Imagine pulling out your robot gfs wires while going down on her and making her beg for you to not pull on them off. Which you do as long as they continue being an obedient little computer who obeys your every command.

Even so, you use the wires and cords like a leash that you pull on. Each time just a little harder to make them freeze in fear that you might pull them clean off her. But you don’t.

….not until you push her over the edge.

And while they feel their system overload and their cpu grow hot, you yank on the wires and make her overload so hard that all her systems stutter and leave her in a perpetual state of ecstasy until she shuts down.

You then put her back together and wait for her to reboot.

After that, she may or may not bonk you over the head for making a mess of loose wiring that she needs to stuff back in her.

#robot fucker #robotposting #robot #robot girl #not sfw #robotfucker

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pretzel-box · 9 months ago

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Idea for a reverse au fic?

Reader gets flashed by a passing Expendable. How would Sebastian (and reader) take it?

REVERSE AU MASTERLIST HERE

PART 6: RIGHT IN SIGHT

Tags: Light jokes, some action, reader and seb encountering a possible enemy

Words: 1,6k

The sterile, metallic halls of the Hadal Blackside stretched out before you and Sebastian as the two of you moved quietly, scavenging for any useful supplies. Despite the ominous setting, the atmosphere between the two of you was light and carefree as always. You tossed jokes back and forth between each other, your banter echoing softly in the cold, dimly lit corridor. It was rare to get moments like this, where the tension of your reality seemed to melt away and you could focus on the cute human right by your side.

“Look, if we don’t find any decent scrap soon, I’m just gonna start decorating our hideout with broken tech. Really give it that ‘desperate survivor’ vibe,” Sebastian quipped, a grin on his face as he glanced over at you. He liked to impress you with his crappy jokes, taking in the way your expression shifts every single time into one of laugher and joy.

You chuckled, your claws lightly tapping against the floor as you sifted through some debris. “Well, at least if we don’t find anything, we can hang up your terrible sense of humor for decoration.”

He shot you a mock-offended look, not expecting such a good comeback. “Wow. Harsh. And here I thought I was your favorite human.”

You smirked, glancing over at him, your sharp, artificial eyes glowing faintly in the low light. “Well, you are my only human, Seb. That makes you both the best and the worst.”

Sebastian laughed, his voice warm, and for a moment, the cold, underwater world around you felt a little less hostile. It was moments like this that reminded you why you stuck together, why despite all the dangers, you and Sebastian had found a strange, unbreakable bond in this twisted place. Human and experiment—survivors, somehow managing to hold onto something normal in the midst of the chaos.

As you continued searching, something caught your attention—a small device partially buried beneath a pile of broken tech. You crouched down, pulling it free and inspecting it. “Hey, think this could be useful?” you asked, holding it up for Sebastian to see.

He moved closer, studying it for a moment. “Maybe. Could be some old keycard or part of another similar thing. We can figure it out back at the shop.” He grinned again, leaning in just a little too close. “Or, you know, it could just be more junk for your decorating project.” His words hitting your ears, giving you a small shiver down your back, one of the good kind.

Before you could retort, a sudden flash of light exploded in the hallway, blinding you instantly. The sharp, searing brightness hit your sensors like a sledgehammer, causing you to stagger back with a sharp cry. You instinctively raised your arms to shield your face, but it was too late—the damage was done.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed, his voice suddenly serious, filled with panic. He grabbed your arm, trying to steady you. “Hold on, I’ve got you—”

The flash beacon. You knew the feeling all too well. It was a device designed to disable experiments like you, to overload your optical systems and incapacitate you. Your vision flickered wildly, and the surge of light made your entire body feel disoriented, unstable. Whoever it was—they knew exactly how to neutralize you.

“Seb…” you rasped, struggling to regain control of your vision, but it was hard to focus, hard to even stand with your lack of balance. Your body felt like it was shutting down, forced into a state of emergency reboot.

Sebastian tightened his grip on your arm, his eyes darting around the hallway as he scanned for whoever had used the beacon. “Stay with me, okay? Don’t worry. We’re getting out of here,” he said, his voice full of determination. He quickly crouched, grabbing a piece of scrap metal as a makeshift weapon.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and you both knew that whoever was behind the attack was getting closer. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down, but you couldn’t help but curse internally—this was supposed to be a routine scavenging trip. A fun, light-hearted break from the usual dangers.

But now, everything had turned dangerous.

“Can you move?” Sebastian asked urgently, his arm slipping around your waist to help you stand.

You groaned, trying to focus through the buzzing in your head. “Yeah... I think so. Just... need a second.”

“We don’t have a second,” he muttered, glancing down the corridor again, his expression grim.

With Sebastian’s support, you managed to take a shaky step, but your body still felt off, uncooperative. It was taking longer than usual to recover, and the frustration gnawed at you. You were supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your voice was shaky, the lie obvious. “Let’s just... get out of here.”

But before either of you could move, another blinding light filled the hallway. You felt Sebastian’s body tense beside you, and through your still-fragmented vision, you could see the silhouette of a figure approaching—whoever they were, they were armed, and they weren’t here to help.

“Stay behind me,” Sebastian whispered, his voice low and tense.

Even in your weakened state, you couldn’t stand the idea of Sebastian putting himself in harm’s way for you. You were the experiment, the one designed to handle danger, not him. But as the figure drew closer, you realized that this time, it wasn’t going to be so easy.

“Seb...” you started, but before you could say anything more, a sound filled the hallway and three red dots pointed at you—a turret, aimed directly at the two of you.

The moment the turret whirred to life, its mechanical sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through your systems. The barrel locked onto you and Sebastian, a low hum signaling that it was ready to fire.

"Seb, get behind me!" you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate, ducking behind a pile of debris as you moved toward the turret. You felt your senses returning bit by bit, the effects of the flash beacon still present but waning. The danger of the turret, however, forced your mind into sharp focus.

The mysterious figure, cloaked in shadows, smirked before glancing up at the vent near the floor. They were quick, nimble, and clearly had the upper hand in this situation. You knew they were planning to escape, but you couldn’t focus on them right now—not with the turret locked onto you both.

The turret's motor clicked, and you heard it ready to fire. You dove behind a nearby crate as it began unleashing a barrage of bullets, pinging off the walls and scattering bits of metal everywhere.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath. You peeked out from behind the crate, your eyes locking onto the base of the turret. You could see it—a control panel just beneath the rotating barrel. If you could just reach it, you might be able to disable the turret before it turned Sebastian or you into scrap metal.

“I’ll cover you!” Sebastian shouted, grabbing a nearby chunk of debris and tossing it toward the turret. It clanged off the barrel, momentarily redirecting its attention.

Now’s your chance.

You launched yourself out from behind the crate, hurrying toward the turret as it recalibrated its aim. The whir of the barrel grew louder, and you could feel the heat of the bullets whizzing past you, narrowly missing as you zigzagged toward the base. Your claws dug into the ground as you slid to the control panel, your fingers immediately working to pry it open.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the figure climbing into the vent, the grating pulled aside. They paused for a split second, glancing back at you and Sebastian, a look of triumph in their eyes. Then, with one swift movement, they disappeared into the vent, the cover sliding back into place.

“No time to worry about them now,” you growled, focusing on the control panel in front of you. The wires were a mess of colors, tangled and confusing, but you didn’t have the luxury of being careful. The turret’s barrel shifted again, locking back onto you, and you knew you had seconds before it would fire.

With a sharp inhale, you jammed your claw into the circuitry, pulling a handful of wires free. Sparks flew, and for a moment, the turret seemed to stall. Its motor whirred in confusion, the barrel twitching as if trying to re-engage its targeting system. You ripped another cluster of wires loose, praying you hit the right ones.

Suddenly, the turret powered down with a groan, the barrel slumping to the side as its lights blinked out. The hallway fell into a heavy silence, the echo of the gunfire still lingering in your ears.

You exhaled in relief, leaning back against the wall as your systems tried to calm down from the sudden burst of activity.

Sebastian emerged from behind the debris, wide-eyed and impressed. “Holy crap, you did it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead. “But they got away.”

Sebastian glanced up at the vent, frowning. “Figures. Whoever they were, they knew this place too well. But I’m not worried about them right now.”

He crouched down next to you, his expression softening. “You alright? That was a close one.”

You managed a tired grin. “Takes more than a turret to take me down. But I must admit, I was almost as pierced as a slice of cheese.”

He chuckled, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Good to know. Let’s just hope there aren’t more surprises like that waiting for us. Also…a cute slice of cheese.”

The compliment made you break into a smile despite the thoughts in your head.

As you both stood and began to gather yourselves, you couldn’t shake the lingering thought of the figure who had escaped. They were fast, resourceful, and clearly knew how to navigate the facility. But right now, your priority was survival.

#sebastian solace #roblox pressure #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #pressure #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure x reader #Reverse au

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random-fandoms-fanfics · 8 months ago

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KOBD Sparkling

I think I put myself into a creative burnout and it took about two years to get out of it and back into writing. To anyone who reads this, take care of yourself and never overdo something even if you love it cause it's much easier to prevent burnout than getting out of it

I made this because I watched Transformers One (go watch it if you haven't it's really good and I want that sequel) and was sent back into the Transformers fixation I had as a kid. I loved Transformers Prime and have been rewatching it so I focused on that one for this

Cybertronian Body Parts

Work count: 1417

---

It was known that Knockout and Breakdown had a more than friendly relationship, often spending hours alone together just letting their sparks dance. So it wasn’t a surprise when Breakdown started to become less enthusiastic about moving, consumed increasingly larger quantities of energon each day and stating his spark was burning. It only took one look at his spark for Knockout to notice the tiny one circling around it, speeding around as fast as it could, “looks like we got a racer here, I may need to start racing again,” Knockout’s servo reached into Breakdown’s spark cavity and scooped the tiny spark out. Holding his servo up the two bots watched as the spark began racing around Knockout’s digits, and when Knockout spread his digits apart it weaved in between them “aren’t you a little show off, wonder if you’ll be as strong as you are fast,”

Everyday Breakdown got a check up, even if they were recovering from a monumental failure or were in the middle of a mission, the little spark was taken out and admired by it’s sire and carrier, after that Knockout would record the spark’s growth as it fed off their carrier’s spark and most of the energon he consumed. The mad medic obsessed with the sparkling adhering to the median growth curve, he was it’s sire, what type of bot would he be if he didn’t ensure his little sparkling was growing at the perfect rate.

During one of their regular check ups, they found it started to feed off of Breakdown’s metal body as it was moulding liquid metal around it to create it’s first shell. After that day it’s hunger only grew, taking more and more metal to fuel it’s rapid growth, and in the hopes of satiating the ravenous hunger of the growing sparkling, Breakdown began scarfing down tons of metal, ignoring the looks from the other Decepticons.

---

One day while tracking a stray energon signal, (in reality searching for more abandoned metal he could pass to the sparkling) Breakdown found himself face to face with his wrecker rival in the middle of an abandoned city. The sparkling in his chest was nearly done growing and he had plenty of padding protecting it, letting off some steam wouldn’t hurt. And he was right, it a quick and easy fight, Bulkhead was extra irritable where the mere mention of Miko got him charging and punching without giving any thought to putting up his guard, allowing Breakdown a clear shot to his head, and before he could get in another blow, electricity coerced through him overloading his entire system and forcing him to shut off.

Even though the surge of electricity knocked Breakdown out, the flow of electricity caused something remarkable to happen within his chassis, the little sparkling devoured the electricity and it jumpstarted the sparkling’s spark, causing it to whirr to life. Their little malleable cylindrical form began to take on a simple humanoid shape, at first their head, arms and legs were defined from their body, then the end of their legs flattened out into bulkley pedes and thick digits stretched out, sharpening into dull points. As the little bot stretched out it’s optics opened, putting them face to face with the light of their carrier’s spark, but before they could enjoy the spark’s warmth, it was interrupted by the scrapping of metal and their little sanctuary shaking so violently it tossed them out of the pull of the spark, their malleable body slamming against the back of Breakdown’s spark chamber.

As Breakdown lay there, watching the humans trying to cut through his armour, he could feel the sparkling moving around, using their tiny claws to search for an exit that he refused to give them. MECH was desperately trying to get through his armour so they could learn about cybertronian biology, if they found a squishy sparkling it would be an immediate death sentence. So Breakdown held his armour tighter and fought even harder against his restraints to keep this secret, and he would’ve kept it, if it wasn’t for the loud screeching and banging that suddenly emanated from inside his chassis. Everything stopped, it seemed that even the machinery was in shock of the screeching coming from inside Breakdown, the most concerning part was the anxiety and sense of fear the screeching caused, “sounds like someone’s hiding more than just technological advancements,”

“If you even scratch them, I will ensure you will never have a moment of peace again,” Silas couldn’t help the smirk growing on his face, he got two pieces of tech for the price of one with one of them seeming even more special, “cut straight to the heart, let’s see what’s so important,” the machines started back up, moving to focus on getting through his chest plate until there was another interruption in the form of clanging metal, this silenced them once again, it even hushed the sparkling. And before MECH knew it, their base was broken into by Bulkhead, knocking down humans as he followed the train tracks to Breakdown.

When he saw Bulkhead he thought this was his last moment, and he didn’t know what would be better, using the remainder of his spark to let the Autobots find his sparkling, or keeping them hidden in the hopes the Decepticons would get to him before MECH came back to tear him open. But he didn’t need to think about that now as Bulkhead just removed his restraints, “wh-what are you doing,” Breakdown was meet with a hand being held out to him, “getting you outta here, yeah I don’t believe it either,” Bulkhead lifted Breakdown up to his feet, the blue bot immediately shutting his open chest plate closed and holding a protective servo over it, “can you walk?”

“I, I think so,” alarms and red lights that filled the tunnels caught the attention of Bulkhead and Breakdown, “can you run,”

“Never run when you could fight,”

“Just keep that thing pointed away from me alright,” with Bulkhead in the lead, the two charged down the tunnel, and the little sparkling was tossed around, their little body squishing and flatting as it was thrown into the walls of Breakdown’s chamber and it only got worse as the two massive bots engaged in battle with MECH, the battle between MECH and bots nearly squished them back into their original marshmallow like form, but thankfully after one last big crash the little sparkling found a way out of it's torment in the form of a small opening. They were able to press their body through the hole, sliding out and onto the ground, where they found themself between two massive bots tanking multiple rounds of gunfire as they slammed their hammers against the cars that sped around them.

It was too loud, it was too bright and the shaking didn’t stop, why did they have the urge to be outside if it was only worse outside. They ran from the action, but because they were taking their first steps they tripped over multiple times but none of the humans seemed to notice, ignoring the robot that stood just a foot shorter than most of them and focusing on the two robots that stood around twenty feet above them. Somehow they successfully dodged the cars that sped around them, running into a nearby building for safety, squeezing themself against a wall and into a ball they covered their audio receptors, just wanting the peace and quiet they should’ve been given for their first few hours of life, wanting to be back in the spark chamber and once again feel the warmth and love their carrier has been giving them for weeks.

Soon after they found their safety the battle ended, giving the sparkling the quiet they desired, removed their servos from their audio receptors, they heard gentle voices, with one standing out against them all, it was proud and kind, and it somehow felt safe. Uncurling themself they peeked out through the door and found themself in awe at the giant bots that stood before them, scanning the group they found their optics drawn to a bot who had a long spike on the top of her head, the shape felt familiar, like something they have seen for their entire life and deep within their spark they felt the desperate to grab onto it. The sparkling remained hidden, just watching the bots until a blue and green portal appeared behind the group, it’s glow mesmerising the tiny sparkling, and that's when the little bot, that was fresh to this new and dangerous world, had it's first thought that wasn't motivated by fear.

Should I touch the glowing thing.

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