#all offices from corporate buildings to desks in the living room

[wannabe-f-f-friends]

Actually every office is a temple to the goddess Ling Wen. Show respect and burn some incense.

[soleilapproves]

Simon’s apartment window conveniently faces yours making him increasingly interested in you.

notes / warnings: fem!reader

Warnings: stalker behavior, spying.

Part 1 of ?

It all started when Simon caught something moving in the corner of his eye. His body shifted away from his computer to see a woman stretching in the window facing his. Messy hair, loose cropped t-shirt that barely covered her mid riff and shorts that one only wore when they knew no one was at home.

Regardless, he found her charming with how carefree she looked. Was she like that with people too? Maybe she was one those type of people that was super rigid with coworkers and strangers but laid back with friends. Or maybe she liked greeting every neighbor she happened to pass by while walking out the building.

Normally, he didn’t bother with people but something in him pulled him towards her. So much so that he moved his chair from his desk and towards the window to see her better. Comfortably sitting with his legs spread and arms folded. He mentally thanked himself for having tinted windows. He could add spying to his list of benefits.

She peered through the window, looking around to see the blurs of metal on the streets. She slumped her shoulders as if she seemed disappointed and went back into her apartment.

He wanted to see more. All he knew was that there was a woman with horrible taste in sleepwear living across from him. Even the fact that her window was full length didn’t help. He couldn’t see much aside from her white bed sheets and maybe a plushie. A couple posters, a small cup on her desk and a…. was that a cat?

His former military training had him seeing a bird eating worms many yards away but now he felt like all that was useless if he couldn’t know what her posters were actually about.

He shook his head to get him back into a more productive headspace and went right back to work. Surveillance work and private investigation felt a lot more taxing after leaving the military. He doesn’t have the patience he used to have back then.

Two hours pass by and he gets up to stretch. Following the woman’s routine, he walks up to the window and stretches his while looking down.

And lo and behold, there she was, by the bus stop, this time wearing some sort of slacks set with a colorful jacket (much better choice than what she was wearing before). Looked like regular office wear. Simon thought that it was good she was taking precautions against the cold.

He checked the time on his Fitbit.

8:27 am

Simon noticed that since she takes the 8:30 bus then she must have a boring corporate ‘9 to 5’ job nearby

-

As you waited for the bus, you plugged in your earphones to listen to a song you’ve been obsessed with lately. The beat couldn’t help but make you bob your head side to side, uncaring if people thought you were crazy or had too much caffeine than one should in the morning.

You continued bobbing your head in the bus. This song has probably been played fifteen times since you’d first heard it. You played to it on your speakers while swiping the floor, in the shower, grooming your cat, and much more.

You were a little bummed out that your friends didn’t like it as much but it was fine. You had your cat who was conditioned rub her fuzzy little head against your hand whenever that that song played through any speakers.

-

Simon had been staring at the bus stop outside his window since 5:00 pm sharp. He knew that the woman was going to arrive any moment now. It was Monday night. There was no way she had other places to be.

6:20 pm

She got out of the bus. A bit later than he expected but then he noticed a small plastic bag in her hand. Maybe a quick grocery run on the way back. He also accounted for the added traffic during rush hour.

‘I can go back to work now.’ He thought himself. ‘She’s safe at home.’

But no, he had to make sure that she was in her apartment. He waited for a few minutes and then saw her in her room. She fell back on her bed with a bounce and the left corner of his upper lip lifted at the scene.

‘She’s safe and sound in her room. Time to go back to work.’

He threw himself back into his work.

Work.

Working.

More work.

Yes, tracking down this old man’s gold digging wife to see if she actually deserves to be on the will or not. She indeed doesn’t. Cheating with her hair dresser. He drafted a quick email of all her reports that was to be sent to his client at 9 am in the morning.

He normally didn’t schedule his emails like that. He usually did it right when he was supposed to send them to make sure there weren’t any last minute changes needed to be made (he felt like it was done better in the morning than any other time). But now, he had the woman from the window. He had to make sure she didn’t get hurt on her way to work and returned back home safe.

He had to keep her safe. His job made him feel like he was compelled to, duh.

Switching off his computer and messily shoving all his notes in a locked drawer, he decided to call it a night.

As he went to lay down, his eyes caught her window again, this time she was dancing. He wondered what song she could possibly be listening to that made her so happy.

He decided to grab his binoculars and peek a little closer. Curiosity’s sake.

She was wearing the same ugly sleep wear from this morning. Meaning, she probably didn’t shower today.

Meaning, she must have dry shampoo.

Ghost doesn’t need any of that since his hair has always been cut short out of habit. Maybe he’ll go to the grocery store nearby tomorrow to see what kind of dry shampoo they sell.

He began to wonder what she smelled like. He was personally a huge fan of sweet scents like vanilla and cinnamon. But he’s heard many women say that it’s very basic so they like pairing it with something floral.

To him, she seemed like the creative type. No boring person would openly dance in front of their window like it was not one of the most embarrassing things in the world.

He began to think about ways he could find out what that song was. He didn’t know any sort of information about her besides where she lived. He could use that to his advantage and trace her email to her other accounts.

So that was that. His first assignment for the next day.

-

I see that all my stalker-phobia is finally coming to good use.

[sherewrytes]

𝐻𝒜𝒰𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒟, 𝐸𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝓍 𝐹 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

I knew possessive Eren was gonna win, so i wrote this fic anyway.

Prologue

Eren leaned back in his chair, his office dimly lit by the glow of his monitor. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights stretched like stars beneath a dark sky, far away and insignificant. His focus was anchored on his screen, where a familiar face smiled back at him from a photo posted over a year ago.

She looked different then—bright-eyed and carefree, dressed casually in a photo with friends, her smile wide and genuine. It wasn’t a polished, professional smile like the one she wore in the office now. This was something real, a glimpse into a version of herself she didn’t show anyone here.

He shouldn’t have kept scrolling back, shouldn’t have let himself get sucked in so deeply. But here he was, poring over every post like he was unraveling a story, piecing together the parts of her life that she’d left public, unaware of who might be watching. Eren liked the challenge of putting it all together—the places she went, the friends she kept, the life that existed beyond the walls of their firm. A life he wasn’t part of. Yet.

His finger hovered over the screen, caught in a lapse of control. Before he could pull back, his thumb brushed the screen, tapping “like” on the year-old post.

He cursed under his breath. She would see that. The thought made him pause, fingers itching to undo the mistake. But instead, he left it.

Let her see, he thought, leaning back and savoring the unease that would flash across her face when she noticed. She’d wonder, worry, maybe even try to brush it off, but the seed would be planted. She’d know that he was watching.

It was time she understood that she was more than an employee to him, more than just another person on his team. The moment she’d stepped into his world, she’d taken root, lodged deep in his mind. And he couldn’t pull her free—not that he wanted to.

His phone buzzed on the desk, pulling his gaze away from her image on the screen. A message notification lit up: a reminder of tomorrow’s 9 a.m. meeting, one he’d called specifically so he could see her, watch her from across the room, close enough to reach out but far enough to stay undetected.

When he finally pushed back from his desk, the clock on the wall blinked past midnight, the entire building silent except for the quiet hum of his footsteps as he walked out.

Y/N POV

The office buzzed with a quiet, controlled energy, the low hum of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations merging into a backdrop of everyday corporate life. You settled into your seat, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension of another early morning. The building’s sleek, minimalist design, with its glass walls and polished floors, was both impressive and stifling. It was the kind of place that demanded excellence, and you planned to give it—nothing less.

It was barely 8:45 a.m., and your coffee was still too hot to sip comfortably. Jean, your colleague and occasional work confidant, leaned over your desk with his usual easy grin. He was one of the few people who made this office feel less like a pressure cooker. Tall, casually charming, with an air of confidence that bordered on playful, Jean had a knack for putting people at ease.

“So, did you see the email last night?” he asked, giving you a look that said he already knew the answer.

“Which one?” you replied, raising a brow, already scrolling through your work emails. Your inbox had exploded with new project updates and memos, mostly sent late at night. It was typical of Eren Yeager, your intense and demanding superior, to send out tasks and reminders well after business hours. The man practically lived in his office, a constant presence that seemed to watch over everyone in the department.

“You know which one,” Jean smirked, lowering his voice. “The meeting. 9 a.m., Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating himself presiding.”

“Oh, that.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Of course, I saw it. Just didn’t have the energy to respond at midnight like everyone else.”

Jean chuckled. “Guess you’ll have to turn on those notifications if you want to keep up with the boss’s schedule. He’s got eyes everywhere.”

You scoffed, waving him off. “I’ll pass. I already see enough of Eren in daylight hours.” You knew he wasn’t being entirely serious, but the idea of Eren’s influence lingering in your personal life struck a nerve you couldn’t quite place.

Settling into work mode, you reached for your phone to quickly open Instagram, stealing a few minutes to catch up on social media before the meeting. You rarely checked notifications right away—they were turned off for most apps during work hours and even out of work—but this morning, a little distraction felt necessary.

As the app loaded, you felt your stomach drop. There it was: a tiny heart notification in the corner of a photo from over a year ago. You recognized it instantly—an old post from a weekend trip with friends, long before you’d joined the company. And the name beside the heart? Eren Yeager.

You blinked, scrolling to confirm, a chill settling over you as you stared at the notification. There was no mistaking it. Your boss—the same man who rarely glanced up from his work, who gave off an air of rigid control and professionalism—had been scrolling through your posts in the middle of the night. Not just any post, either. A photo from a year ago, a carefree memory buried far down your timeline, one you’d forgotten about.

“What’s up?” Jean’s voice broke into your thoughts, his brows furrowing as he followed your gaze to the phone in your hand. He glanced over, a smile forming on his lips as he noted your wide-eyed expression. “Oh? Someone sliding into your DMs?”

You quickly flipped your phone screen down, shaking off the uncomfortable prickling feeling that lingered. “No, nothing like that. Just… weird notification, that’s all.”

Jean gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further. He was perceptive like that, often picking up on the things you left unsaid. You appreciated it more than you let on.

You tried to shake off the odd feeling and turned your attention back to your computer, but your mind kept drifting back to the notification. The way his name seemed to linger there, like a subtle, invasive reminder that he was watching, that he knew details of your life you’d never shared with anyone here.

Stop overthinking it, you told yourself. Maybe it was a mistake, an accidental like. But that didn’t explain why he’d been scrolling so far back. You rubbed your temples, trying to shake off the creeping feeling of unease.

9 A.M. Meeting

By the time you entered the conference room for the morning meeting, you’d managed to pull yourself together. Eren sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but commanding, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched each employee filter in and take their seats. His presence filled the room in a way that was hard to ignore, his gaze sharp, assessing, as if he were silently measuring the worth of everyone around him.

You slipped into your seat, feeling his eyes flicker over you for a brief moment. The memory of that notification resurfaced, making you hyper-aware of the way he seemed to watch you, a hint of something dark lurking beneath his otherwise composed exterior.

“All right, let’s begin,” Eren said, his voice a low, smooth cadence that carried authority effortlessly. His eyes scanned the room, resting on you for a moment longer than necessary before shifting to the agenda displayed on the screen. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him any indication that his subtle invasion of your privacy had affected you.

The meeting dragged on, a detailed breakdown of project deadlines, assignments, and expectations. You found yourself glancing up every now and then, catching Eren’s gaze lingering on you, an intensity there that made your skin prickle. He looked away each time, as if nothing had happened, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling that his interest wasn’t merely professional.

Toward the end of the meeting, he spoke up, addressing the room but directing his gaze toward Jean. “Jean, I’m moving you to the new department project starting next week. You’ll need to focus on that exclusively for the time being.”

Jean looked surprised, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Oh—sure, that’s fine, but I was under the impression I’d be working with [Your Name] on the current project until the end of the quarter.”

Eren’s expression remained neutral, his voice calm and authoritative. “Things have changed. I need you on something more pressing. [Your Name] can handle the rest of the project on her own.”

You stiffened, shooting Jean a quick look of apology, but he simply gave you a reassuring nod. You’d grown accustomed to working closely with him, and his sudden reassignment felt… calculated. Eren’s actions were swift, almost surgical, like a move in a chess game, rearranging the pieces to his advantage. It made your stomach twist, a realization settling in: he wasn’t just assigning work. He was orchestrating the details of your environment, manipulating who you interacted with, controlling who had access to you.

The meeting concluded shortly afterward, and you gathered your notes, trying to avoid Eren’s gaze. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“[Your Name], a moment?”

You froze, every nerve on edge. You glanced back, finding him standing at the head of the table, waiting for you as the rest of the team filed out. Jean shot you a supportive look before he left, mouthing a silent good luck as he exited.

You walked back to Eren, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries, his gaze fixed and unwavering.

“I wanted to discuss your progress on the project,” he said, his voice calm but holding an edge that set you on alert. “Are you prepared to handle it on your own?”

“Yes,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “I’ve been on top of it.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze drifting over you with an intensity that felt almost predatory. “I don’t want any distractions taking your focus away. Especially… social ones.”

The insinuation in his words was undeniable. You met his gaze, refusing to look away, even as the weight of his stare made you feel exposed. He was waiting for a reaction, testing you, pushing boundaries that should’ve stayed firmly in place.

“Understood,” you replied coolly, refusing to let him see that his words affected you. “Is there anything else?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, almost as if he were amused by your defiance. “No, that’s all… for now.”

As you left the conference room, you could feel his eyes on you, a dark promise lingering in his gaze. This was more than a mistake, more than a casual interest. You were part of something twisted now, something that felt like it was spiraling out of control. And somehow, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d claimed every part of you.

You walked back to your desk, heart racing, struggling to process the entire interaction. Eren’s stare, the way he’d pushed Jean out of the project, the invasive social media “like” that felt like a silent confession of his interest—it was all too much. You tried to shake it off, rationalizing his words as a reminder to stay focused, but a lingering unease settled in, something you couldn’t ignore.

Jean was waiting for you, leaning casually against your desk with an easy smile, though concern flickered in his eyes.

“Everything good?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched you approach.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you replied, plastering on a smile as you settled in your chair. But your mind was elsewhere, still processing Eren’s intense gaze, the almost possessive tone he’d taken.

Jean didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “If you say so. Just say the word if you need backup. I know Yeager can be… a lot.”

You laughed lightly, though it was forced, glancing over your shoulder as you tried to shift gears and focus on your work. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of Eren watching, even though his door was closed. The memory of that year-old Instagram notification lingered, like an invisible mark he’d left on you.

Why would he scroll back that far? It was a question that had no easy answer, one that filled your mind with possibilities that sent a shiver down your spine.

Later That Evening

The workday wore on, but you couldn’t shake the weight of Eren’s presence from your mind. By the time you left the office, the sky was already dark, streetlights casting long shadows across the city. You walked quickly, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the train station, paranoid even though you knew it was irrational.

Arriving home, you set your things down, finally able to relax in the quiet comfort of your apartment. But as you changed into comfortable clothes and settled onto the couch, your phone buzzed with another notification. You glanced down, expecting a message from a friend or maybe Jean checking in—but the sight of Eren’s name on your screen made you freeze.

It was a message from his work account, the tone professional but terse.

Eren YeagerI need to see you in my office at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow. Don’t be late.

The message was short, but it felt weighted, as if it held an unspoken promise of more. You stared at it, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure if you should respond. There was no polite sign-off, no explanation for the early morning meeting. It was an order, one that demanded obedience without question.

You locked your phone, deciding not to reply. The idea of being alone with him, especially so early in the morning when no one else would be around, sent a pulse of anxiety through you. But you had no choice. If you ignored his request, you’d risk his wrath—a risk you couldn’t afford in your current role.

Just get through tomorrow, you told yourself, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that settled over you.

The Next Morning

At 7:59 a.m., you found yourself standing outside Eren’s office door, heart pounding as you raised your hand to knock. The office was nearly deserted this early, the usual bustle absent in the dim, quiet corridors. You almost turned back, second-guessing yourself, but the door swung open before you could retreat.

“Come in,” Eren’s voice greeted you, smooth and calm.

You stepped inside, swallowing your nerves as you glanced around the room. His office was pristine, modern, and impersonal—just like him. The only hint of personality was the faint scent of expensive cologne that seemed to permeate the air, a reminder of how meticulously he controlled every aspect of his world.

He gestured for you to sit, watching you with a calm, unreadable expression as you took the chair across from his desk. You fought to keep your face neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you unnerved.

“I wanted to discuss your performance,” he began, his tone smooth but carrying a hint of something darker. “You’ve been doing well with the project, but I noticed that your focus has been… scattered lately.”

Your stomach tightened. Scattered? You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, caught between indignation and confusion. “I haven’t been distracted,” you replied, keeping your tone even.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he found your response amusing. “Haven’t you? Checking social media during work hours, lingering at your desk with Jean instead of focusing on your assignments… I’d call that distracted.”

You felt your face go hot, a mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling beneath your skin. He was referring to your harmless Instagram check yesterday, something you’d done quickly during a break. And as for Jean—well, you couldn’t control his friendliness. But the way Eren spoke, it was as if he’d taken note of every small action, every minor slip-up, and filed it away for moments like this.

“Is that really affecting my work?” you asked, keeping your voice calm even as your heart pounded in your chest. “I’ve met all the deadlines, and my reports have been on time.”

Eren leaned forward, his intense green eyes fixed on you, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “This isn’t just about deadlines, [Your Name]. It’s about your dedication, your priorities.”

You felt his words wrap around you like a trap, as if he were challenging you to admit something you didn’t fully understand. His gaze was heavy, penetrating, and you realized with a sudden, unsettling clarity that he wasn’t talking about work at all.

His next words confirmed it.

“People get distracted,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he observed you. “They forget who’s really in charge. And they let others”—his eyes flashed with something dark—“interfere.”

The implication was clear. Eren wasn’t just monitoring your work; he was watching every interaction, every minor connection you made in the office. He wanted your attention, all of it, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules to make that happen.

A surge of defiance rose in you, a determination not to be cowed by his intimidation tactics. “With all due respect, Mr. Yeager, I think I’m managing just fine. My work speaks for itself.”

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed you, almost as if he were savoring the challenge. “If that’s how you feel,” he replied smoothly, “then I expect nothing less than your full focus moving forward. No distractions. No side conversations with… co-workers.”

Your stomach twisted. You could practically feel the weight of his control bearing down on you, subtle but suffocating. Eren’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he finally leaned back, dismissing you with a nod.

“That’s all for now. But I’ll be watching, [Your Name]. Make sure you don’t disappoint me.”

You stood, your legs stiff as you resisted the urge to throw a sharp retort back at him. Instead, you turned and walked to the door, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

But as you reached for the handle, he called out softly, “And remember… if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You didn’t look back, didn’t dare acknowledge the unspoken meaning behind his words. But as you walked away, a shiver ran down your spine, the realization sinking in: Eren was watching, his presence an invisible shadow that lingered over every corner of your life.

And deep down, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop.

Chapter 2: Eren's POV

I watch her leave my office, her back straight, the calm facade she wears never quite matching the storm I know brews beneath the surface. She's good at hiding it. Too good. But I see through her. I always do.

I could’ve pushed harder, pressed her more. I could’ve let the tension between us grow, let her feel it, but I know the rules. I know how to play this game. I’m patient. I’ve been watching her for months now—studying every shift in her expression, every flicker of emotion that betrays her cool demeanor. She thinks I’m just another boss, another man she has to deal with to keep her job. She doesn’t see what I see.

She doesn’t understand that I own her. Not in a way she’d ever admit. Not yet. But it’s coming.

I’ve been in control of my life for so long, meticulously crafting every move, every interaction. But the moment I saw her, I knew I was losing that control.

That first day when she walked into the office, all poised and professional in her perfectly pressed blouse and skirt, looking completely out of place among the chaos of this company... I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She stood out, a beacon of grace in a sea of mundane. It wasn’t just her looks—though she’s breathtaking. It’s her aura, the way she moves, the way people gravitate to her without even trying. But what I couldn’t handle was how easily she laughed, how easily she made friends with everyone. Even Jean, that fucking rat. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of them near her.

I hate the way she smiles at him. That warmth. I watch her in those moments, just a little too long. Jean doesn’t realize it, but every second she spends with him is a second closer to me losing my patience.

Her kindness? Her ability to make everyone feel like they’re worth something? It makes me sick. It makes me want to pull her closer, force her to realize that her place is with me, not with the rest of them. They don’t deserve her. No one does. Not like I do.

I’ve done everything I can to keep her focused on her work, keep her away from distractions. Jean? He’s been moved to another department. He’ll think it’s just for business reasons. He’ll never know the truth. I won’t let him have her. No one will.

I’d love to see how she reacts. I want to see her frustration when she can’t find that friendly face to laugh with during breaks, when Jean isn’t there to chat with her like some old friend. She doesn’t realize yet, but every little thing I do is part of the plan.

I’ve been following her on social media for a while now. It's not like I’m obsessed. No, it's just... research. I need to know what she’s doing, who she’s talking to, what interests her. I saw that post she shared from over a year ago. That’s when I liked it. A simple gesture, but I know she saw it. The notification. It was a crack in the door, a way to remind her that I see her, that I’m watching, even when she doesn’t realize it. She may act like she doesn’t care, like she’s unaffected, but I know the truth.

She noticed. I could see the way her fingers hesitated over the screen when she opened it, the way her eyes darted to the notification, the subtle way her lips pressed together, a sign of frustration or confusion. Good. She’s thinking about me now. I like that. I like knowing she’s aware of my presence, even when I’m not in the room.

And I’ll keep doing it. I’ll keep moving those pieces, reshaping the world around her until there’s nowhere left for her to go except into my arms.

She doesn’t realize how much she needs me yet. She doesn’t understand what I could give her, what I could offer, the security, the control. The way I’d take care of her—physically, mentally, emotionally. She would never have to worry about anything. She’d be mine. And I’d make sure she knew it.

But patience, I tell myself. One step at a time. For now, I’ll keep my distance, make sure she doesn’t feel smothered. I’ll play the game, act like everything is normal. But every conversation, every interaction, is a calculated move, a reminder to her that I’m always in her periphery. I don’t need to rush this.

I’ll keep her on her toes. I’ll keep her questioning herself. And in time, she’ll realize that the only person who truly knows her, who truly understands her, is me.

I can already feel it.

She’s mine.

For the past few weeks, I’ve found myself more drawn to her than I care to admit. Some might say I’m obsessive, that I’ve crossed a line in watching her every move. But they don’t understand. I’m not obsessed—I’m simply possessive of what’s mine. And she is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I've kept my distance, careful not to scare her off, keeping up the mask of the professional, distant manager. But the more I watch her, the harder it becomes. I see her subtle shifts in expression, the way her shoulders tense whenever I enter a room, as if she can feel me. She can feel that magnetic pull too. She must.

Today, she finally came to me, probably driven by the carefully crafted breadcrumbs I’d left for her. I could see the determination on her face as she knocked and entered my office, closing the door behind her. She’s nervous—trying not to show it, but I can see the tension in her stance. She’s bracing herself, as if she’s come to confront me.

“Mr. Yeager,” she begins, her voice steady. “Can I ask you something?”

I lean back in my chair, giving her my full attention, my expression carefully neutral. “Of course,” I say smoothly, as if she has my undivided focus—which she does.

She clears her throat, looking down briefly before meeting my gaze again. “I… noticed something strange recently.” She hesitates, watching me closely, as if gauging my reaction. “You… liked an old photo on my Instagram. From over a year ago.”

There it is. The spark of curiosity, maybe even a little irritation, hidden beneath her calm facade. She’s trying to find a reason, some logical explanation, but she won’t find it.

I keep my expression mild, letting a small, almost dismissive smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Oh? I didn’t realize. Must’ve been a slip of the finger,” I say lightly, shrugging as if it’s nothing. “I probably just scrolled too far.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, as if trying to see through my answer, to find the truth lurking beneath my calm mask. But I won’t give her that satisfaction. I keep my smile relaxed, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, she speaks again, her voice softer, more hesitant.

“I see.” She shifts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, it just… seemed strange. I mean, it was a really old photo.”

I tilt my head, giving her a curious look. “Are you worried about what I think of your social media, [Your Name]?” I ask, my tone just slightly teasing, enough to throw her off balance. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The color rises in her cheeks, a sign that I’ve hit a nerve. I can see her frustration simmering beneath the surface. She probably didn’t expect me to brush it off so easily, to play it so nonchalantly.

“Anyway,” I say, shifting the topic before she can dwell on it too long, “are you seeing anyone?”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Just curious,” I reply, keeping my tone casual. “You seem close with some of the others here… I was wondering if you were dating anyone.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but… no.”

I already knew the answer. She’s kept to herself, no messy entanglements to interfere with the focus I want from her. I nod slowly, keeping my expression thoughtful, as if I’m filing away that precious piece of information.

“Well,” I say after a beat, looking back at her with a calm smile, “that’s good to know. Less distraction, right?”

Her eyes flash, a quick hint of irritation before she masks it, and I almost laugh. I wonder if she realizes what her reaction betrays, how her every movement, every flicker of emotion, only draws me closer.

She’s mine. Even if she doesn’t know it yet. And one way or another, she’ll come to understand just how deep that connection goes.

For now, I’ll give her space, let her think this was just a fleeting moment. But in time, she’ll see. She’ll see that every step she takes, every decision she makes, is already part of my plan. And when she finally realizes it, she’ll understand that she’s exactly where she belongs—by my side, where I can watch over her, where I can protect her.

And no one—not Jean, not anyone—will ever get close enough to take her from me.

Y/N's POV

I head back to my desk, still trying to shake off the strange feeling lingering from my conversation with Eren. The way he brushed off that whole Instagram thing… it didn’t sit right with me. And then he asked if I was dating anyone? Out of nowhere?

I sit down, take a deep breath, and open my phone, deciding to vent in my group chat. Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah have been my rocks for as long as I can remember, and they always know how to put things in perspective.

Group Chat:

yn: Eren just asked me if I’m dating anyone…

kaylah: Your boss? 👀

kasa: Oh gurl, he tryna fuck 😏

annie: That’s her boss. 😑

kasa: And?? 👀 He’s still tryna get it.

kaylah: It’s not just “any boss,” though. It’s Eren. You’ve been saying he’s been acting weird for weeks, girl.

kasa: Exactly. That man is on some type of mission, and it sounds like it involves you.

annie: Are you comfortable with him asking questions like that?

I chew on my lip, reading through their messages. They all have a point. Eren has been acting strange, hovering a bit too close sometimes, watching me like he’s waiting for something. But Annie’s right, too. It’s not exactly normal for a boss to act this way, is it?

I hesitate for a second, wondering how much to say. Then I type back.

yn: Honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it. He’s always so… intense. But maybe it’s just me overthinking?

kaylah: Girl, that’s not “intense”; that’s creepy. 👀 Bosses don’t just stalk their employees’ social media.

annie: Exactly. And liking a photo from last year? There’s something else going on here.

kasa: Sounds like he’s trying to mark his territory. 😳 Bet he’s trying to make sure no one else thinks you’re single.

I let their words sink in, and suddenly, it’s like I’m seeing my interactions with Eren from a different angle. That “slip of the finger��� excuse sounds a lot thinner now. And asking if I’m seeing anyone? Was that a simple question, or was he trying to figure out if he has any competition?

The back of my neck prickles.

I sigh, typing out the next message, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing my girls will understand. There’s more to this situation, and I need their take.

yn: Oh, and there’s something else… He moved Jean to a different department. Just… out of the blue. He said it was for a “long-term project” or something like that, but now Jean’s basically out of my life at work for the foreseeable future.

kaylah: Wait, what?! Isn’t Jean like… your work husband?

annie: Your “project”? Yeah, right. Who’s he trying to fool? 😒

kasa: Soooo he removes the guy you’re closest to, then asks if you’re single? That man’s trying to clear the field. 👀

kaylah: Sounds like he’s… territorial. He probably hated the idea of you and Jean hanging out all day.

yn: It just feels so over-the-top. Jean didn’t even get a say; one day he’s there, and then Eren just pulls him into his office, and boom, he’s off on some new assignment.

annie: If this isn’t a huge red flag, I don’t know what is.

kasa: Honestly, girl, I’d be careful. This man doesn’t sound like he knows how to handle boundaries. 😬

I lean back in my chair, their messages washing over me, making my skin prickle. I keep telling myself that maybe I’m imagining things, that he’s just an intense boss, but each detail lines up too neatly. Jean was always the one person I could talk to freely, the only guy in the office who made me feel safe—and now he’s gone.

My stomach twists as I hear Eren’s voice, sharp and commanding, slicing through the quiet of the office.

“[Your Name]!” His voice has an edge to it, and I jump, startled. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s standing right behind me, eyes dark and fixed on my phone screen. I can feel the tension radiating off him, and the realization slams into me—he saw everything.

“...My office. Now,” he says, each word clipped, his tone leaving no room for argument. My heart pounds as I quickly turn off my phone, shooting one last frantic message to the group.

yn: I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone—

I barely finish the sentence before shoving the phone back onto my desk. The vibration of new messages is already buzzing like crazy as I walk toward his office, each step slower than the last.

The entire office feels like it’s holding its breath, and I can sense my coworkers glancing my way, probably just as curious about what I did to earn Eren’s wrath. I swallow hard, focusing on keeping my expression neutral as I make my way to his office, heart pounding louder with every step.

As soon as I step through the door, Eren closes it firmly behind me, and the air in the room feels heavier. The calm facade he usually wears is gone, replaced by something sharper, something that borders on fury.

"Care to explain what’s so important on your phone, [Your Name]?”

“Mr. Yeager, with all due respect,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “my phone is my personal business.”

His expression hardens, his jaw clenching as he takes a step closer. “So discussing me is your personal business then?” he bites back, his voice low and challenging.

Without thinking, I snap back. “If you’re all up in it, then yes.”

The words are out before I can stop myself, and I’m immediately shocked that I actually said it. My heart slams against my ribs, and the tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. I should apologize, I know it, but something about the way he’s staring at me—like he’s both furious and intrigued—has me rooted to the spot.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Funny. Because I don’t recall giving you permission to turn me into office gossip.”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Well, maybe if you didn’t act like everyone here’s a pawn in some twisted game, we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

His lips curve into a cold smile. “Oh, so you think this is a game, huh?” His voice is dangerously low, and he’s close enough now that I can feel his presence looming over me, his eyes piercing into mine. “Trust me, [Your Name], I don’t play games.”

My pulse quickens as he steps closer still, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from him. My instincts scream at me to back down, to apologize, but something inside me flares up instead, matching his intensity. I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to be the first to look away.

“If you’re so sure of that,” I say, my voice just as quiet, “then why are you so interested in what I’m doing on my phone? Seems pretty ‘game-like’ to me.”

For a moment, his face shifts, and I catch a flicker of something almost raw in his eyes—something possessive, unsettlingly intense. But then it’s gone, replaced by that cold, unreadable mask he always wears.

“Careful,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, though there’s a warning underneath it. “You don’t want to push me, [Your Name].”

“Or what?” I challenge, my heart racing, the words slipping out before I can stop myself.

Before I can process what’s happening, I feel his lips on mine, fierce and unyielding. The kiss is forceful, intense, sending a shock through my system. It’s soft, yet possessive, hot and somehow tender all at once—a confusing mix that leaves me breathless. I barely have time to react, my hands frozen at my sides, as if caught in a whirlwind of everything I should and shouldn’t feel.

Then, just as abruptly, he pulls back, his face hovering inches from mine, his gaze steady and dark as he studies me. He doesn’t look smug, nor does he look regretful. There’s something raw in his expression, something he’s barely containing.

“I love your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice rough but oddly soft. “They’re so brown and beautiful… just like I thought they’d be up close.”

I blink, still reeling, the intensity of his words sinking into my skin like embers, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. I open my mouth to respond, to say something that might make sense of the mess of feelings swirling inside me, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare up at him, my mind racing with confusion, with anger, with something I can’t even name.

His hand lingers on my arm, and the weight of his touch is both grounding and electrifying. He’s close enough that I can see every shade of green in his eyes, every fleck of something darker that burns there, a kind of need that’s both alarming and magnetic.

“[Your Name]…” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as though my name is a secret he’s been keeping.

Eren’s voice is a low murmur, almost daring me as he leans in just a fraction closer.

“Ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His gaze holds mine, and the challenge in his eyes makes my breath hitch. He’s waiting, watching for some sign that I’ll back down—but instead, my pulse races with a new determination, my words tumbling out before I can second-guess them.

“Why did you really move Jean?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. “Was it because of… me?”

A flicker of satisfaction crosses his face, like he’s pleased I finally asked the question that’s been burning inside me. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink as he responds.

“Jean was… a distraction,” he says, his voice low, each word deliberate. “You don’t need him taking up your time.”

My stomach flips, caught between disbelief and a strange, unnerving thrill at his bluntness. “So you’re saying you—moved him just to have me all to yourself?”

Eren’s mouth twitches in the faintest of smirks. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he says, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. He brushes his thumb over the back of my hand, a gesture that’s both tender and unsettling. “And whether you know it or not, you’re mine, [Your Name].”

The air thickens between us, charged with tension and something darker that I don’t dare name.

“Yours?” I say, my voice wavering between disbelief and defiance. “You don’t even know me, Eren.”

A glint of amusement flashes in his eyes, but there’s something else there, something darker and more intense as he steps even closer. His gaze traces my face, studying me like he’s memorizing every detail.

“Don’t know you?” he murmurs, a faint smirk curving his lips. “I know you better than you think, [Your Name].”

My heart skips a beat as he begins listing things—little details I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed.

“You prefer coffee black on Mondays but switch to a caramel macchiato on Fridays. Your favorite color is emerald green. You call out sick on the third Thursday of every month to go to your hairdresser and then your lash girl.” His smirk deepens, his voice softening, almost proud. “Which is why I always approve your requests for those particular days off and pay you for the extra time. I figured I’d make it easier for you, since I know you’d never ask.”

I stare at him, speechless. It’s unsettling—no, terrifying—how much he knows. I’d thought it was a coincidence, a stroke of luck, that my days off lined up perfectly with my appointments. Now I’m realizing it was anything but. He orchestrated all of it. Eren didn’t just notice these things—he’s been planning around them, bending my schedule to fit into the life he believes he controls.

“You… you really did all that?” I whisper, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

“Of course I did,” he replies, his tone calm, as if this all makes perfect sense. “I told you, [Your Name]. I don’t like sharing. And I don’t like the idea of you needing anyone else but me.”

The possessive gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

Eren’s gaze never leaves mine as he continues, his tone low and smooth, yet laced with a quiet intensity that unsettles me.

“You think I don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous? Or how you twist your pen when you’re lost in thought?” His eyes roam over my face, lingering on my lips before meeting my gaze again. “I notice everything, [Your Name]. Every single thing about you. It’s only fair, given how much of my time you take up.”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Eren’s gaze is so intense, it’s as if he can see right through me, through every facade I’ve ever put up. He steps forward, closing the last of the distance between us until he’s just inches away, and I can feel the warmth of him, the weight of his attention, like gravity pulling me in.

“You can deny it all you want,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, “but deep down, you’ve always known. You felt it, too. This connection.”

My heart races as his words sink in, leaving me both shocked and disarmed. Part of me wants to deny it, to push him away, but another part, the part that feels his touch lingering long after he’s gone, knows there’s some twisted truth in his words. Eren’s confidence, his calculated planning, his unwavering focus—it’s both overwhelming and alluring, a dangerous thrill I can’t seem to shake.

He tilts his head, his voice dropping even lower. “You keep looking at me like I’m the one crossing the line, but maybe you should ask yourself why you keep letting me.”

Eren’s eyes narrow, his voice a quiet, unyielding demand. “Now, ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. There’s an invitation in his tone, a challenge in his stare that dares me to voice the questions that have haunted me since he first stepped into my life. My heart pounds, and I feel my pulse throb as I stare up at him, trying to decide if I should say the words out loud.

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper as I finally ask, “Why… why me, Eren? Why do you go out of your way to control every part of my life?”

A slow smile spreads across his face, but there’s no warmth in it. Just a chilling certainty, as if he’s been waiting for me to ask this all along.

“Because, [Your Name],” he says, his voice dripping with that familiar possessiveness, “the second I saw you, I knew I’d never want anyone else.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “And I don’t like the idea of anything or anyone else having you, even in the smallest way. Every detail of your life is mine to know, mine to control. Because whether you realize it or not, you’re already mine.”

The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, and I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, a part of me terrified of him, yet drawn to the way he looks at me with that all-consuming need.

“So don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my cheek, lingering for a moment. “Just accept it.”

“This is too much,” I say, my voice shaking as I try to pull away, desperate to put space between us. My hands move instinctively to push against his chest, but before I can make any real distance, Eren’s grip tightens around my wrist, pulling me back toward him with surprising force.

I stumble, barely catching myself as I’m drawn back into his presence, and before I can even react, his hand grazes the side of my jaw, his fingers cool against the heated skin of my cheek. The sensation is dizzying, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. He holds me there for a moment, just enough for his thumb to trace the curve of my jawline, sending a chill down my spine.

Then, without a word, he grips the back of my neck, his touch possessive and commanding as he yanks me closer to him. My breath catches in my throat, and I find myself trapped between the heat of his body and the pressure of his touch, unable to escape even if I wanted to.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he murmurs, his voice low, controlled, but with an undercurrent of something darker. “You can tell me no now, or you can let it happen.”

My heart slams in my chest as I feel the heat of his breath on my lips, the tension so thick that it almost feels suffocating. A part of me wants to pull away, to run from the intensity of this moment, but another part—one that scares me—wants to stay, to see where this overwhelming pull will lead.

Eren’s eyes lock onto mine, dark and unwavering, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. His grip on my neck tightens just enough to remind me that I’m in his control, that I have no escape if he doesn’t want me to have one.

“What’s it going to be, [Your Name]?” he whispers, the question more of a command than an invitation.

"Eren… I—" I start, but before I can even finish the sentence, he cuts me off, his words sharp and commanding.

"Wrong answer."

His lips crash onto mine, and the force of it takes my breath away. His kiss is demanding, fierce, as if he’s claiming me in a way I can’t escape. It’s overwhelming, and my body betrays me, sinking into the kiss, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, grasping at him for balance. I can feel the heat rising between us, every inch of him pressing against me in a way that makes my heart race and my mind spin.

I can’t think, can’t form coherent thoughts, because all I can feel is the overwhelming pressure of him, his touch, the way his mouth moves against mine like he’s determined to break through every wall I’ve ever built.

And then, without warning, I feel him bite down on my bottom lip, pulling it gently with a smirk that tells me he’s enjoying this—enjoying the control, the way I’m losing myself to him.

The sensation stings, and I gasp, but he doesn’t give me a chance to react. His lips return to mine, more insistent, deeper, as if he’s trying to mark me, to claim me, until I’m not sure where I begin and where he ends. His hands slide to my waist, gripping me tightly as if he’s worried I might slip away, as if he’s afraid that one kiss won’t be enough.

It isn’t enough. It never will be. I feel myself craving more, my body pulling him closer, as if I’ve been waiting for this, for him, all along.

The realization hits me like a wave, and I almost want to pull back, to snap myself out of the haze he’s wrapped me in. But instead, I stay, letting myself sink further into the kiss, into him.

Eren pulls back slightly, his breath heavy against my lips. His eyes search mine, dark and intense, filled with something I can’t quite place.

“I told you, [Your Name],” he whispers, his voice low and almost satisfied, “you’re mine.”

As I make my way back to my desk, my mind is still spinning, heart racing with the lingering heat of Eren’s kiss. My body feels like it’s moving on autopilot as I sit down, glancing at my phone. I open the group chat with Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah, my thumb hovering over the screen as I prepare to update them. The last message I sent was, I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone.

The messages from my friends are already waiting for me:

Kaylah: Girl, what the hell? He saw EVERYTHING?

Mikasa: Oh no, not this again. What’s going on?

Annie: No way. You need to be careful, Y/N. I’m not liking this.

I quickly type out my reply, still feeling the weight of Eren’s presence hanging over me, almost like he’s watching me through the screen.

Y/N: He pulled me into his office. I… I didn’t expect it, but he kissed me. Forcefully. He told me I’m "his" and that I should stop pretending I don’t know it. Then he made me come back to my desk to tell you all this.

I feel a rush of emotions as I hit send. Part of me wants to keep this to myself, to pretend it didn’t happen, but I know they deserve to know what’s going on, especially since it’s clear Eren’s intentions go far beyond just the office.

The chat explodes almost immediately:

Kaylah: Bitch, WHAT?! You just got kissed by your boss?? Omg, no, this is insane.

Mikasa: He pulled you into his office? Girl, this is so messy. You gotta be careful. This feels like a power move.

Annie: He’s crossing boundaries. I don’t care how much "power" he has—this isn’t okay. You need to set some limits, Y/N.

I feel a mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else I don’t want to acknowledge. I glance at the time, realizing I’ve been gone for longer than expected. Eren’s words echo in my mind, “You’re dismissed now.” The finality in his voice leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to handle this. I just feel… stuck.

Before I can read the responses, I hear Eren’s voice in the distance, calling out to someone else in the office. The sound of his voice makes my pulse spike again. His control over everything is suffocating, and I don’t know what to do next.

The messages from my friends continue, but my mind is already elsewhere, replaying every moment in his office, trying to make sense of everything he said and did.

Kaylah: Babe, you need to lay down some ground rules.

Mikasa: He’s not going to stop unless you make him.

Annie: You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. Don’t let him manipulate you.

I stare at my phone, still in a daze from the events of the day. My fingers hover over the screen as I type my response, unsure of what I’m feeling.

Y/N: What if… what if I liked it? Well… shit. I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I should just move departments.

Before I can think it through any further, my phone buzzes again. I see a new notification from the group chat—Mikasa’s added two new members. I blink at the names: Onyankopon and Armin.

Onyankopon: Kasa, you add me to the wrong group or sum?

Armin: Why we in your girl group?

Mikasa: Y’all now know Eren. He’s acting crazy.

I let out a frustrated sigh, rolling my eyes as I quickly type the rundown of what happened in the office. It feels so surreal, like I’m recounting someone else’s life. But it’s mine, and it’s hard to ignore how Eren’s presence looms over me, even through the screen.

Y/N: Okay, here it is. Eren pulled me into his office, kissed me, told me I was “his,” and that I should stop pretending like I don’t know it. He’s acting all possessive and… weird. I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe I should just switch departments or something.

I hit send and brace myself for whatever they’ll say. It doesn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Armin: eye roll emoji* Is this Y/N LN, or am I missing something?*

I read the message twice before I realize he’s talking about me. It’s not a surprise, but it hits a little differently now, seeing it written out like that.

Then, Armin sends a series of screenshots. I glance over them, and my stomach drops.

Armin’s screenshot: Eren: "Bro, I kissed her. I swear, I went too far. I’ve been watching her since she started working here. I think I’m losing it."

I stare at the words for a long moment, my breath catching in my throat. I’d been so caught up in my own confusion that I hadn’t even realized how much Eren had been planning, how deep his obsession with me went. And the fact that Armin had these messages, these private thoughts of Eren’s, just adds another layer of unease.

Onyankopon: LMAO, Mikasa. So this is Y/N LN? Oh shit, this is funny as fuck.

I feel a sinking feeling in my chest as I read his message. It’s like everyone can see it, but me—how out of control Eren is. I can’t stop myself from feeling… exposed.

Onyankopon: Armin, we gotta tell Connie about this. This is crazy.

I feel my stomach twist at their reactions, the way they laugh it off as if it’s some kind of joke. But it isn’t a joke. It’s my life, and I’m caught in the middle of this twisted game Eren’s playing.

Y/N: This isn’t funny, guys. Eren’s fucking with my head. He’s crossing lines I never thought he would.

But even as I send the message, a small part of me wonders if I’m being too dramatic. If maybe I do like the attention. It’s hard to tell, especially with all the confusion in my head. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

Mikasa: You’re not overreacting. This isn’t normal. But I don’t think moving departments is the answer. Eren’s not just going to let you go that easily.

I stare at Mikasa’s response, my thumb hovering over the screen. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Armin: I’ll talk to him. Eren isn’t... okay, let me not lie... anyway, Ony, if you’re free, we gonna have to go pay Eren a visit at work.

As I read Armin’s message, a strange feeling begins to twist inside me. The fact that he’s offering to talk to Eren is both comforting and terrifying. I can’t deny that I feel a little bit of relief knowing that someone might stand up for me, but it also doesn’t sit right with me that Eren needs a “talking to” in the first place.

 can’t help but shake my head, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips. I’m not sure what’s scarier—the fact that Armin’s taking it so lightly or that I feel like I’m somehow becoming the center of their attention. It’s one thing for Eren to be possessive, but now it seems like everyone is getting involved.

Onyankopon: IDK, y’all want me in white folk business?

My eyes widen as I read Ony’s message, unsure if I should laugh or be annoyed. He’s right, though—it’s pretty ridiculous. But before I can say anything, Kaylah’s message pops up in the chat, and it’s clear she’s already found the humor in the situation.

Kaylah: LMAO! Y/N ain’t white, bro.

Ony’s response comes so quickly, I can almost hear the sarcasm in his voice. I laugh a little despite myself, because it’s true—Eren’s behavior does feel a little… out of place. Like he doesn’t know how to handle someone like me.

Onyankopon: I know, that’s why Eren tweaking. He ain’t ever locked a baddie before. Lame-ass white boy.

The chat explodes with laughter, and I can’t help but chuckle as well, even though I’m still dealing with the weight of everything that just happened. Ony’s comment, as ridiculous as it is, actually makes me feel a little better. The absurdity of the whole situation is almost laughable.

Mikasa: Y’all wild, but for real, Y/N, you need to stay strong. Don’t let this get to you.

Kaylah: For real, don’t let his crazy ass try to claim you. That’s your work life, and you need to protect that shit.

I read their messages, my mind swirling. Their support means everything, but I still don’t know what to do. The fact that Armin’s going to “talk to” Eren doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t just sit around and wait for him to fix things. Eren’s power is too much, too overwhelming.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to fix this. I feel trapped, like he’s watching me all the time now. Everything’s so messed up.

I leave the message on read for a while, my thoughts drifting back to Eren. To his kiss. To the way he said I was “his.” It’s a bitter reminder that maybe things have gone too far already.

at the same time  

Eren’s hands are shaking as he types into his own group chat, his mind racing from everything that happened earlier. He can’t get her out of his head—Y/N, with her eyes so full of confusion, and the way she didn’t pull away from him when he kissed her, even though she probably should’ve.

Eren: Guys, I fucked up.

He watches the messages pop up one by one, his anxiety bubbling with every new response.

Armin: Jail time or a murder case?

Connie: Please tell me this ain’t about who I think it is.

Ony: Sure this is about Y/N again, bro? She ain’t want your white ass.

Reiner: Eren, what did you do... this time?

He slams his fist against the table, frustrated. He doesn’t have the words to explain it, but his thoughts keep racing back to her—her soft lips, the way she melted into him for just a moment before reality hit. He didn’t want to go that far, but when he kissed her, everything felt... right. It felt like it had to happen, like he needed her.

Eren: It’s Y/N. I kissed her. And I know, I know I fucked up, but it was just... it was too much. She doesn’t get it, man. She doesn’t see me the way I see her.

Armin: Oh boy, here we go. What exactly do you mean by ‘too much’?

Connie: Bro, what the hell are you doing? Did you force her?

Ony: I told you, man. She’s not your typical type. You can’t just make her fall in line like you want. She don’t need your controlling ass. You’re out here acting like you own her.

Eren clenches his jaw, his fingers gripping the edge of the table until it creaks.

Eren: I didn’t force her. But damn it, I don’t know... it’s like she’s got something in her that draws me in. She’s the only one who makes me feel like I’m more than this job, this life. She makes me want things I’ve never wanted before. And now she’s got me thinking, shit, I don’t know if I can stop. I’m not letting anyone else get close to her.

Reiner: That’s some dangerous shit, Eren. You’re letting your emotions run wild, and you’re gonna fuck up your entire career over her.

Armin: Man, you already fucked up. But at least you’re being honest about it now. You know you can’t keep this up. You need to step back before you lose it all.

Connie: I swear to God, Eren, if you don’t pull yourself together, you’re gonna make it worse. You need to stop acting like she’s yours. She doesn’t owe you anything.

Eren feels the weight of their words, but they don’t hit him the way they should. He knows what he’s doing is dangerous, but he can’t help the way he feels. Y/N’s on his mind every second of the day, and he’s not ready to just walk away.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t. She doesn’t get it yet, but she will. She’s mine, and I’m not letting anyone else near her.

Ony: Bro, you’re wilding. She’s not some fucking trophy to claim. If you keep this up, she’ll be gone faster than you can blink.

Reiner: Eren... you gotta rethink this. You’re walking a thin line.

Eren sits back in his chair, his chest tight as the words sink in. But even with everything they say, there’s only one thing on his mind—Y/N. No one else. And no matter how messed up it is, he’s not ready to let go.

Eren: I’m not letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

Ony: Well, Armin, good thing you're a lawyer. You gonna have to plead his case when Y/N drops charges on him.

Eren’s eyes widen at the thought, panic creeping up his spine. His fingers hover over his phone, unable to stop the flood of thoughts racing through his mind.

Eren: Fuck! Will she do something like that?

Ony: LMAO, bro, look at yourself. One whiff of cocoa butter and you're acting mad.

Reiner: Bro, you really out here trippin' over some lotion?

Eren's face flushes with frustration. He’s not even thinking about the damn lotion. It’s about her. He can’t stop thinking about how soft she felt against him, how her skin smelled, how her lips tasted.

Eren: It's actually shea butter and lavender, not cocoa butter.

The group goes silent for a moment, and then the floodgates open.

Ony: Bro, WTF?

Armin: Wait, what? You’re obsessed with her scent now?

Reiner: Eren, you out here getting fetishy with lotions?

Eren growls under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to stay composed. But every word they type is making the pit in his stomach grow deeper. He wanted this—her—so badly, but now he’s in too deep, and they’re all calling him out for it.

Eren: I smelled it when I kissed her. Man, da fuck?

The silence in the chat is almost unbearable before it’s broken by a series of laughing emojis.

Ony: Bro, you a different type of crazy. I can’t even deal with this. You out here stalking this girl’s scent like you’re some kind of detective.

Armin: Yo, you need a therapist. This is borderline obsession.

Reiner: Damn, man. You really need to chill. She ain’t even looking at you like that.

Eren’s chest tightens at their words. He knows what they’re saying is true. He’s spiraling. He’s obsessed. But the way Y/N made him feel when she was close to him… that—he can’t shake that feeling. He wants her. Needs her. And he can’t let anyone take her from him.

Eren: She’s mine. I’m telling you, I won’t let anyone near her.

The group’s response is quick and harsh.

Ony: Bruh. You really need to stop.

Armin: If you don’t back off, you’re gonna ruin everything, Eren. You gotta calm down.

Reiner: You’re gonna scare her off if you keep acting like this. Just back off a little.

But Eren just stares at the screen, his finger hovering over the keyboard. He wants to prove them wrong, to show them that he can handle this. But deep down, he knows they’re right. His obsession with Y/N is unhealthy.

He types one last message.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t stop. She’s mine.

Armin: Bro, you're scaring her.

Eren’s chest tightens, the words hitting harder than he expected. He’s not sure how to react, his thoughts a mess of frustration and possessiveness.

Eren: How the fuck do you know?

Ony: Cause Mikasa added me and Armin to their group chat.

The weight of Ony’s words doesn’t quite hit him at first. The realization that Mikasa and the others are talking about him—about this—makes his stomach turn. His grip on his phone tightens, and he types with clenched fists.

Connie: Damn and I ain't get no invite lol.

Reiner: Connie, focus.

Eren doesn’t respond to Connie, but his mind races. If they’re talking about him in her group chat, if Mikasa and the others know what’s going on… that means Y/N knows too. And that thought alone sends a chill through him.

He wants to control everything, to make sure Y/N never slips out of his grasp, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes just how dangerous this is. His thoughts swirl between possessiveness, fear, and that nagging sense of guilt that won’t go away.

Eren: It’s not like that. I didn’t mean to scare her. I just… I just can’t stand the thought of anyone else having her.

Armin: Bro, you're not thinking straight. You need to give her space. You can’t keep acting like this.

Ony: If you really want her, you’re gonna have to play it cool. She’s not gonna stick around if you keep acting crazy.

Connie: Yeah, bro. I get it. She’s fine, she’s beautiful, but you gotta chill out before you push her away.

Eren stares at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s not used to this feeling, this vulnerability. He’s used to getting what he wants, but with Y/N… it’s different.

Eren: I can’t stop. I don’t want to lose her.

Armin: Then don’t fuck this up, man. You’re already on thin ice. If you push her too hard, she’ll leave. You gotta play it slow.

Reiner: Yeah, just relax. Don’t make it worse.

Eren leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. They’re right. He knows it. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

He types one last message, his mind clouded with frustration and desire.

Eren: I’ll figure it out. But she’s mine.

Eren sits at his desk, his fingers drumming the surface as his friends settle in around him. Ony leans back in the chair across from him, feet propped up on the desk like it’s his own office, while Armin and Reiner sit on the side, making themselves comfortable. The vibe is casual, but Eren can feel the pressure mounting as his thoughts keep returning to Y/N. He’s trying to relax, to not seem too “crazy” in front of his friends, but the tension is there, simmering under the surface.

The door opens, and in walks Y/N, papers in hand. She looks focused, her heels clicking against the floor as she approaches Eren’s desk. She doesn’t immediately acknowledge the guys, but her eyes briefly flicker to them as she places the papers in front of Eren.

Y/N: Here’s the paperwork you asked for.

Eren glances up at her, his heart pounding, his mind racing with the thoughts of what had transpired earlier. He’s trying to play it cool—trying to keep his composure with his friends here. But then, he notices the way Y/N’s presence seems to make the air in the room shift. It’s electric, and he knows it.

Eren: Thanks for this, Y/N. You’re a life-saver.

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he decides to make the introduction, all too aware of the tension in the room.

Eren: Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends—Ony, Armin, and Reiner.

Y/N offers a polite but brief smile, nodding toward them as she quickly scans the room. The last thing she expects is to find herself in Eren’s office with his friends lounging around.

Y/N: Nice to meet you all.

Eren, for the briefest moment, feels a flicker of unease—like a possessive fire just beneath the surface—but he shakes it off and turns his attention back to Y/N. That’s when she lets something slip that makes him freeze for a moment.

Y/N: By the way, I saw you moved Jean to a different department. Couldn’t help but notice.

Eren’s heart skips, but he stays composed, offering a faint smile as his friends glance at him. He doesn’t want to act like a jealous lunatic in front of them. He clears his throat, focusing back on Y/N.

Eren: I’m sorry about that. I thought it was necessary for the project’s success.

He gestures to the papers she handed him, trying to shift the focus away from his internal frustration.

Eren: Thanks for the paperwork, though. You’ve been doing great. Actually, take the rest of the day off. Consider it a reward.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, not fully buying into his offer. Her arms cross as she stands in front of his desk.

Y/N: I’m fine, Eren. I don’t need the time off. I can finish up the rest of the work.

Eren leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly, trying not to let the tension in his voice show. His tone becomes slightly sharper.

Eren: Y/N, you’re making a spectacle of yourself. You’ve been running around nonstop lately.

Y/N scoffs, clearly not taking too kindly to his suggestion. She looks at him with an unimpressed stare, her lips curling slightly in disdain.

Y/N: I’m fine. I’m not some fragile thing that needs coddling, Eren.

Eren smirks, an arrogant edge to his smile as he leans forward in his chair.

Eren: You’re not fragile? Maybe, but you're definitely testing my patience.

Y/N’s eyes flash with something fierce, her gaze narrowing. She leans in slightly, her fingers twitching as if she’s about to snap at him. Then, in one swift motion, she raises her hand, as though she’s going to slap him across the face.

The tension in the room thickens. Ony and the others watch, intrigued by the standoff. Eren doesn’t flinch, his smirk growing wider, his gaze locked on hers.

Eren: Be my guest, Y/N. Go ahead. Show me what you got.

For a split second, Y/N hesitates, her hand still hovering in the air, poised to strike. Her chest rises and falls with each breath as her eyes flicker between his confident expression and the space between them. The moment stretches on, heavy with anticipation.

But then, something shifts. The fire in her eyes dims, and she lowers her hand slowly, almost reluctantly. Eren watches her, his expression unreadable, but there’s a satisfaction in his eyes that only he understands.

Eren: You’re stronger than I thought, Y/N. I respect that.

Y/N scoffs again, turning on her heel to leave, but not before shooting one last look at him.

Y/N: You’re impossible, Eren.

As she walks out, her exit leaves the room strangely quiet. Ony, Armin, and Reiner exchange looks but don’t speak a word. The energy in the room has shifted once again—this time, it’s palpable. Eren can feel it, the shift between them, the growing tension, the silent understanding that this dynamic is far from over.

He leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he watches her go. His mind races. There’s something about her—something he can’t get out of his head.

And he knows, deep down, that he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Armin sighs dramatically, leaning back in his chair as he watches Y/N’s retreating figure through the office door. He shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Armin: I’m definitely gonna end up being your lawyer when she sues you, Eren.

Reiner laughs, shaking his head at the situation, the tension in the room still lingering from the encounter.

Reiner: Man, I’m not even gonna lie... you’re making this harder than it has to be. He pauses, glancing at Eren. Just ask her out for God’s sake. What are you waiting for?

Eren stays silent for a moment, letting their words settle. The thought of it is... strange. Sure, he’s had plenty of women—flings, casual affairs—but this? This was different. The intensity of it all, the pull he felt whenever she was near, it was something he couldn’t ignore.

But then, his mind drifts back to the kiss, the way she’d reacted. It was like she wanted to fight him, but also... something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Eren: It’s not that simple.

Ony, who had been quiet until now, raises an eyebrow. He lounges back in his seat with a grin that suggests he’s been amused by the whole situation.

Ony: Bro, it’s never that simple with you, huh? Just admit you want her, stop overthinking it. I’ve been hearing you complain about this girl for weeks, and now you're playing dumb?

Eren clenches his jaw, not wanting to admit that Ony’s right.

Eren: It’s complicated. She doesn’t even... He trails off, the words coming out in frustration. She doesn’t know what she wants.

Armin and Reiner exchange knowing looks. They’d seen Eren go through this type of internal battle before. He could be aggressive, possessive—he was always the one to go after what he wanted, but when it came to Y/N... something about her made him second-guess himself.

Armin: Man, you think she doesn’t know what she wants? She knows. She just doesn’t want to be controlled by you. Maybe try showing her you’re not just some... I don’t know, crazy possessive boss for once.

Eren rubs the back of his neck, visibly frustrated.

Eren: I’m not crazy.

Reiner chuckles.

Reiner: Oh, you’re definitely crazy. But it’s not the crazy we’re worried about. It’s the possessive part. If you keep pushing her like this, she’s gonna run, Eren.

The words hit hard, but he knows they’re true. Every second he spent obsessing over her, every action he took to control her, was pushing her farther away.

Eren doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze now fixed on the papers Y/N had left on his desk. He still has her scent lingering in his memory—the sharpness of her perfume, the warmth of her skin from their brief touch.

Ony: Bro, we need to just go out for drinks tonight. You need to clear your head before you go off the rails with her.

Eren finally looks up, meeting Ony’s eyes, then Reiner’s, then Armin’s. His mind is still racing with thoughts of Y/N—her scent, her attitude, the challenge she presents. He could feel his patience fraying, but there was something else gnawing at him. Something deeper.

Eren: Fine. Drinks. But we’re not done with this.

His friends nod, understanding the weight of what he meant. As much as they tried to talk sense into him, they knew Eren would do what he always did. He’d chase after what he wanted, no matter how messy it got.

Eren leans back in his chair, still staring at the door Y/N had left through. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she was back in front of him. And when she did, he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily.

Later, the guys meet up for drinks, but Eren can’t shake the image of Y/N out of his head. The way she stood up to him, her confidence, her defiance—it was all too intoxicating. He couldn’t let it go.

Ony watches him, a smirk playing at his lips.

Ony: You know, man, I’m starting to think you’ve already decided what you’re gonna do next. Stop pretending like you don’t know what you want.

Eren just grins, taking another sip of his drink.

Eren: I’m not pretending. I’m just waiting for the right moment.

Ony turned to Connie, his eyes gleaming with mischief, his grin wide as he leaned in to make a bold wager.

Ony: I'll bet you 50K she sues him.

Connie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms.

Connie: Nah, she’s gonna end up fucking him and leaving his ass.

Reiner, who had been quietly sipping his drink, couldn’t help but join in.

Reiner: Lol, facts. Eren can’t handle all that. He acts like he’s built bad, but we all know he’s a mess when it comes to her.

Ony burst out laughing, practically cackling with amusement.

Ony: Bro, no lies detected! I mean, just look at him! Can’t even control himself around her.

Eren remained silent through all of this, the teasing growing louder, but he didn’t flinch. His thoughts were miles away, still replaying the events from earlier in the day. The kiss. Her defiance. Her eyes staring back at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and it drove him crazy.

He finally broke his silence, his voice cutting through the laughter.

Eren: Are you guys done?

Ony grinned wider, clearly not done yet.

Ony: Nah, man, I’m serious. She’s definitely gonna sue you. At this rate, you’re gonna end up in court with a restraining order on your ass.

Eren scowled, his jaw tightening. He knew they were right, in a way. The way he’d pushed her, the way his obsession had been growing—it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But that didn’t stop him from wanting more.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting the moment. It was a message from Y/N. His heart skipped a beat. He quickly pulled it out, unlocking it and reading her message.

Y/N: I’m still thinking about the kiss. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I’m not the kind of girl who gets pushed around like that. You’ll hear from me soon.

Eren stared at the message, the words sinking in. A mix of guilt and desire swirled inside him, but his stomach tightened. He was used to getting what he wanted, but with her? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Eren: Shit.

He tossed his phone onto the table, meeting his friends’ eyes. They were watching him, waiting for his next move.

Reiner: I’m telling you, man, you’re either gonna lose her or you’re gonna lose yourself trying to keep her. You can’t control everything.

Ony snorted.

Ony: He’s right, you know. You gotta chill out, bro.

Eren leaned back in his chair, a frown settling on his face. He didn’t like hearing the truth. Not from them. Not about this.

He glanced over at Connie, Reiner, and Ony.

Eren: I don’t know what to do.

There was a brief pause before Connie spoke up, his tone more serious than before.

Connie: Honestly, dude? You gotta stop playing games. Either you’re gonna let her go, or you’re gonna go after her. For real. No more back-and-forth.

Eren looked at his friends, his mind racing. Connie was right. He was at a crossroads, but the pull he felt toward Y/N was too strong. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

Eren took a deep breath, slamming his drink down on the table.

Eren: I’m going after her. I don’t care what happens. This time, I’m not backing down.

Reiner, Ony, and Connie exchanged looks, and then a silence fell over the table as they all realized the gravity of what Eren was saying.

Ony: Well... that’s the Eren I know. Just don’t get arrested, bro. We got enough problems without you bringing the cops into this.

Eren’s lips curled into a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mind was already on Y/N, already thinking of the next step. This time, he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what it took.

Eren: We’ll see about that.

Timeskip

Eren had been out of the office for the entire week. The sudden absence had given me the space I didn’t realize I needed. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe. I wasn’t constantly on edge, waiting for his presence to fill the air, to make the ground beneath me feel shaky with every word he said or every look he gave. It was a weird feeling, almost like something had been missing, but in a good way.

I texted my friends to update them. I couldn’t keep this bottled up any longer.

Me: Mikasa, I met Ony and Armin, the guys you added to the chat.

Mikasa: They’re cool.

Kaylah: How she know’s Eren’s friends?

Mikasa: High school.

Annie: So you know Eren then?

Mikasa: Kinda, we weren't really that close. More of a friend of a friend thing.

Kaylah: Aye, Ony, Armin. I know you bitches still in here.

Ony: What you want, Kaylah?

Kaylah: Anyway, why Eren ain't in the office?

Armin: He not catching a case.

Ony: He’s well...

Armin: Bro, shut up.

Annie: Nah, nah, spill now.

Ony: Leaves group

Mikasa: Adds Ony back to group.

Mikasa: You were saying?

I laughed as the group chat erupted with back-and-forth messages. They were like a well-oiled machine when it came to digging for dirt, and I was more than ready to let them have it. I didn’t want to keep this to myself anymore.

Me: Alright, alright. Here’s the tea: Eren’s been out of the office this whole week. But, like, he’s been working from home, so I don’t know what’s going on with him.

Kaylah: Damn, that’s a whole vibe. So, what, he’s just... avoiding you?

Me: I don’t know, girl. Maybe. He just started acting strange last week, and then... he took the whole week off.

Annie: Did he say why?

Me: He didn’t. And I didn’t ask. But it’s like I get the space I need... but I also miss him? I don't even know what to think about it anymore.

Mikasa: You like him. Don’t front.

Me: Maybe. I don’t know, Mikasa.

Kaylah: Girl, come on. You definitely like him. You just don't want to admit it.

I paused, biting my lip as I read through their messages. I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, let alone them, but the truth was undeniable. Every time Eren wasn’t around, I felt this hollow ache in my chest, like I was missing something vital. Maybe I was starting to get used to the tension, the way he made me feel when he was near. I didn’t want to, but it was there.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed again with a message. It was from Eren. My stomach flipped when I saw his name on the screen.

Eren: Can we talk?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I didn’t know what to do. I was still mad at him for the things he’d done. But I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say now. Why had he texted me out of nowhere?

Me: Now?

Eren: Yes. It’s important.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the nerves that were quickly setting in. He had a way of making everything feel so intense, so out of my control. But I was done with running away from this. I’d face him.

Me: Fine. I’ll come by in 15 minutes.

I could practically hear the smirk in his reply.

Eren: Good. I’ll see you then.

My heart beat a little faster as I closed my phone. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. There was something about him—about Eren—that I just couldn’t ignore.

When I arrived at the address Eren had texted me, I was standing in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. It looked too nice for someone like him. Maybe I was just underestimating him.

I made my way up to the penthouse and knocked on the door, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. As soon as the door opened, Eren stood there, looking like he belonged in a magazine. His usual intense gaze softened when he saw me, though, and I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in his posture.

Eren: You came.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Me: You wanted to talk?

Eren stepped aside, motioning for me to come in.

Eren: Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot this week. About everything.

I stepped into the apartment, my eyes scanning the room. It was tastefully decorated, minimalist, and oddly calming. Eren closed the door behind me, his gaze lingering on me as I took in my surroundings.

Me: Well, let’s get this over with, then.

He chuckled softly.

Eren: I was an idiot last week.

Me: You think?

I crossed my arms, trying to hide how his admission affected me. He was right, I’d been suffocating under the weight of his attention, but now that he was pulling away, I couldn’t deny that something was missing.

Eren: I wanted to apologize. I was... overbearing.

Me: That’s one way to put it.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

Eren: I had to take a step back. I didn’t know how to handle it. But I can’t deny what I feel for you, Y/N.

I froze. His voice had dropped an octave, and I could feel the weight of his words in the pit of my stomach.

Me: You can’t just say things like that.

Eren: Why not?

He was too close now. Too close for comfort. My breath hitched as he placed a hand gently on my arm, his thumb grazing my skin.

Eren: I’m not going to apologize for what happened between us. But I need you to know that I can’t let you go. Not like this. Not after what’s between us.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

Me: What if I don’t want this?

Eren leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered.

Eren: I don’t care if you don’t want it. I’m not going to stop.

My head spun. The mix of desire and frustration was overwhelming. But I couldn’t ignore how his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, making it feel smaller, tighter.

Me: You’re crazy.

Eren: Maybe. But I’m not backing down.

He leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from mine.

Eren: I’m not letting you go, Y/N. Not now, not ever.

His words hung in the air as he slowly tilted his head, his lips brushing against mine. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was testing the waters. But I melted into it, my hands moving to his chest as I pulled him closer.

When he pulled away, his face was inches from mine, and I could see the struggle behind his eyes. He wanted me, but there was something more there. Something deeper.

Eren: And neither are you.

I felt my knees weaken, the tension between us unbearable as I tried to resist, tried to push him away. But the pull... it was too strong.

Eren smiled softly, his gaze never leaving mine as he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with mine. The heat between us was undeniable, and his presence seemed to consume the space around us.

Eren: Stop me, Y/N. If you really don’t want me, tell me to back off, and I’ll stop. I’ll drop this whole thing right now.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was my boss, my manager. I was supposed to stay professional, keep my distance. But the way he looked at me, the way his voice dropped lower with every word, it was like I couldn’t think straight.

Me: Eren... you’re my boss, you’re my manager.

Eren chuckled, shaking his head.

Eren: Technically, I’m the owner and CEO, but I like this position more at times.

My eyes widened in shock.

Me: What on earth? I thought the founder was Zeke Yeager.

Eren laughed, a rich, confident sound that sent shivers down my spine.

Eren: Zeke is my older half-brother. He’s a co-founder. I just didn’t want my name plastered all over it. But... back to the topic.

I stared at him, completely caught off guard by the revelation. My mind was spinning, trying to wrap around the fact that he owned the company. He was the one who called the shots. The one who controlled everything. And here he was, standing right in front of me, making everything feel like it was about to fall apart at the seams.

Me: You’re... crazy.

Eren’s smile deepened, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place.

Eren: Maybe. But right now, you’re the one who’s making me lose control.

I took a step back, shaking my head, but he didn’t back off. His presence was overpowering. Every step he took toward me made me feel smaller, more vulnerable.

Me: We shouldn’t do this.

Eren paused, his expression unreadable, before he took another slow step closer, closing the gap between us. I could feel the tension building, thick and almost unbearable.

Eren: Say the word, Y/N, and I’ll stop. Just say it.

I looked up at him, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. He was so close now, I could feel his warmth, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. His eyes were locked on mine, waiting for me to make a choice, to decide where this was going to go.

But what was I supposed to say? Could I even say it? Could I walk away from this... from him?

Me: I... I can’t.

Eren’s gaze flickered with something darker, something more intense, and before I could even process it, his lips were on mine again. This time, there was no hesitation. His kiss was hungry, demanding, and it ignited a fire within me that I didn’t know I could still have.

I was drowning in it, in him, in the weight of everything unsaid, all the questions and fears I had about us. I couldn’t stop it. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to.

Eren: I told you, Y/N. I’m not going to stop. Not now. Not ever.

I didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to stop what was happening between us. The lines between work and whatever this was had already blurred beyond recognition, and I had no idea how to find my way out.

Eren’s voice was rough, laced with hunger, as he groaned my name, the sound vibrating through me. His hands gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head as he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. Every movement was calculated, controlled, making it clear just how much power he had over me in this moment.

Eren: Y/N... you don’t have any idea what you do to me.

I couldn’t speak. The words caught in my throat, my body frozen beneath him. His weight, his closeness, it felt suffocating in the most overwhelming way. But I couldn't deny that a part of me wanted this, wanted him, wanted the heat that radiated off him, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.

He lowered his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses along the sensitive skin, the feeling sending a jolt through me. My breath hitched as his hands moved down, gripping my waist tightly as he slowly, carefully, slid me further back on the couch. The movement was deliberate, almost possessive, like he was marking me, staking his claim.

Eren: You’ve been driving me crazy, Y/N. I can’t get you out of my head. And now... now you’re mine.

I gasped as he spoke, the words stirring something inside of me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet... there was something thrilling about it. The way he controlled the situation, the way he held me down, making it clear that he wasn't going to let go—he wasn’t going to let me go.

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the conflicting emotions that were starting to bubble up. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to tell him to stop, that this was wrong. But the words never came. Instead, I found myself sinking deeper into the feeling, the heat, the intensity of the moment.

His lips hovered above mine, his breath mingling with mine as he whispered, his voice low, almost a command.

Eren: Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N. Tell me you don’t want me to take control.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My mind was a blur, the only thing I could focus on was him, his body against mine, the way he was making me feel like I was completely at his mercy.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. I couldn’t ignore the pull between us. The fire in my veins.

But even as I gave into the moment, a part of me knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as this.Eren’s words were soft, almost a whisper, as he pulled back, releasing my wrists. His hands fell to his sides, and he exhaled heavily, like a man who had just been holding his breath for far too long.

Eren: I’ll stop... I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.

The sudden distance between us was almost more overwhelming than the intensity of his earlier actions. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart pounding, unsure of what I should feel. His voice had been filled with something I couldn’t place—guilt? Regret? Or was it just his way of keeping control?

I tried to sit up, my body trembling slightly as I took in what had just happened. My hands moved to my throat, as if trying to steady the rapid breaths, but I could still feel the heat of his presence surrounding me, making me feel trapped in the tension that hung between us.

Y/N: Eren...

I couldn’t even get the words out, unsure if I wanted to argue, to push him away, or to confess that a part of me didn’t want him to stop. It confused me—this mix of anger, desire, and confusion all swirling inside me like a storm.

Y/N: You... you can't just... do that.

I stumbled over my words, my voice shaky as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had pushed me, tested my limits, but I wasn’t sure if he even realized the depth of what he’d done. The emotional weight of it was suffocating.

Eren stood there for a moment, his back slightly turned, but he wasn’t walking away. He was waiting for me, waiting for something. I didn’t know what exactly, but I could feel his eyes on me, the tension in the air like a fragile thread.

Eren: I know... I know. I crossed a line. I just... I can’t be near you and not want more. But I should’ve never made you feel like you had no choice.

He turned back to face me, his eyes softer now, but there was still that edge, the intensity that never seemed to leave him.

Eren: I can’t promise that I won’t want you. But I can promise I’ll respect you, Y/N. If you tell me to stop, I will. If you don’t want this... I’ll walk away. But I need you to tell me.

The silence hung between us, thick and heavy. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat—what did I really want? Could I really trust him not to cross that line again? Could I trust myself not to fall deeper into this twisted game we were playing?

I looked up at him, his face a mask of regret and something darker, something deeper, and in that moment, I realized that Eren Yeager was a man of contradictions. But more than that, he was a man who knew what he wanted. And that was dangerous, because right now, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop him.

As soon as I left Eren’s apartment, my heart was still racing, my mind swirling with the confusion of everything that had just happened. The quiet hum of the city around me barely registered as I quickly typed a message to my group chat, hoping my friends could offer some clarity—or at least some comfort—after the whirlwind I’d just been through.

Group Chat:

Y/N: SOS, my place. Now.

It didn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Kaylah: Girl, what happened??

Mikasa: Are you okay?

Annie: You good, Y/N?

I didn’t know how to answer them. How could I explain the suffocating mix of emotions I was feeling? The tension, the heat, the confusion, the need... I was a mess.

I responded quickly, trying to catch my breath as I walked faster toward my apartment.

Y/N: It’s... it’s bad, guys. I don’t even know what happened. I don’t even know what to think right now.

The three of them went quiet for a moment, and just as I was about to send another message, my phone started buzzing again.

Mikasa: Do you want us to come over?

Kaylah: Don’t go back to him, girl. You deserve better.

Annie: He did what??

The words hit me harder than I expected, the reality of it all crashing down. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the way Eren had acted—how he pushed and pulled me, how everything had escalated so quickly. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his lips felt against mine, the way his body had pinned me, the desire, the intensity...

But the other side of it—the control, the way he’d dismissed me as soon as I started to speak—left me feeling small, insignificant. It made me question everything, even my own feelings.

I paused at a crosswalk, staring at the phone screen, trying to figure out how to respond.

Y/N: He told me to leave. Like it was nothing.

I hit send, my fingers trembling slightly.

Kaylah: What do you mean?

Mikasa: He told you to leave?? After everything that happened??

Annie: What a piece of shit.

I almost laughed bitterly at Annie’s words. She wasn’t wrong. But something inside me twisted, because I didn’t want to think of him as that. Not after everything. Not after the way he made me feel, both good and bad.

I didn’t want to feel conflicted anymore. I didn’t want to feel trapped in my own thoughts. But the reality was, I was. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know if I was ready to walk away for good.

I finally made it to my apartment, but my mind was still spinning, the nagging thoughts swirling around Eren. I needed to talk to my friends. I needed them to pull me out of this spiral.

I quickly unlocked the door and flopped down onto the couch, letting my phone rest on my chest.

Y/N: I don’t even know what to do anymore...

Kaylah: Get some sleep. We’re coming over in a bit. Don’t go back to him, though. Not like this.

Annie: Yeah. You need to clear your head, girl.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the weight of their words settling in. Maybe they were right. Maybe I needed to pull back, take a step back from everything, from Eren, from the intensity he had brought into my life.

But part of me knew that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

I set my phone down, staring at the ceiling as my mind replayed every moment from the apartment, every word, every touch.

I wasn’t sure what would happen next. But I knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over. Not ye

I sat down on the couch, my hands trembling as I told them everything. The kiss, the tension, the way Eren pushed and pulled, the way he’d given me an out and I still hadn’t stopped him. I hadn’t even tried. I couldn’t bring myself to, and that realization hit me harder than I expected.

Kaylah was the first to speak up, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Kaylah: Why didn't you stop him, Y/N?

I froze, the question hanging in the air like a weight. The answer was simple yet complicated. I hadn’t wanted to stop him. The truth was, a part of me had wanted it. I couldn't lie to myself about that. I was drawn to him in a way that made no sense, especially after everything that happened earlier today.

But I didn’t know how to say that. I didn’t know how to admit that I’d wanted him, maybe even needed him, in that moment.

I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on the floor as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Annie: Omg, you wanted him to, didn’t you... holy fucking shit, Y/N.

Her voice held that amused, mocking tone, but underneath, there was something softer. Something more... concerned. Mikasa, on the other hand, was less playful and more serious as she looked at me, processing everything I’d just spilled.

Mikasa: Let's backtrack for a second. So, Eren is the co-founder, CEO, and whatever else of Paradis Inc. Not Zeke.

I nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of everything, but I couldn’t help but feel a little rattled by her words. It was hard to process everything. I had thought Zeke was the one pulling the strings, but now Eren had just flipped my entire perception upside down.

I had only known him as my boss, but now? The owner, the CEO, the guy who owned everything around me? It changed things in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I still couldn’t get over how he’d been watching me. The way he knew so much about me, the little details I hadn’t shared with anyone. It was like he had studied me, prepared for this moment—this power dynamic, where he held all the cards.

I was the one with no control, and I couldn’t decide if I hated it or craved it more.

Kaylah: Wait, you didn’t know all of that?

I shook my head, the weight of the secret crashing down on me. Y/N: No. I thought Zeke was the one who owned the company. I had no idea Eren was...

I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. How was I supposed to process the fact that this man, who had kissed me like I was his, was also the one with all the power? The one who controlled everything.

Annie: So Eren’s basically been running this shit behind the scenes?

Mikasa: And you didn’t even know. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you sooner.

I shook my head again, trying to wrap my mind around it.

Y/N: No, he didn’t tell me. But it’s more than that. The way he... controlled everything between us... made it feel like I didn’t have a choice. I don’t know how to explain it, but when he kissed me, I... I didn’t want him to stop.

The words spilled out before I could stop them, and the room fell silent as my friends processed what I had just admitted.

Kaylah: Damn, Y/N. You want him. You’re hooked on him.

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know if I could even deny it anymore. But that didn’t mean I was okay with everything that had happened. It didn’t mean I could just ignore the fact that I had let him get so close. That I had let him in when I knew, deep down, something wasn’t right.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe, just maybe, I liked the way it felt. The intensity, the pressure, the way Eren had made me feel like I was the only one in the world for him. Like he was in control, but in a way that had made me feel wanted.

Annie: Y/N, I don’t know what kind of mind games Eren’s playing, but you need to think long and hard about what you’re doing. This could go left real quick.

Her words hit me like a cold shower. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew she was right. There was something dangerous about how easily I had let myself slip into his control. Something that scared me.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to gather my thoughts.

Y/N: I’m not sure what to do. He’s... he’s confusing. I don’t know if I should stay away from him or... or go back to him.

Kaylah: Girl, you’re playing with fire. He’s your boss, for one thing. You can’t just let him run shit like that. You deserve better.

Mikasa: Yeah, Y/N, if you’re not careful, this could get real toxic, real fast.

I sighed, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on me.

Y/N: I know. I know it’s not healthy, but there’s something about him I can’t shake off. Something that makes me want to stay close to him... even when I know I shouldn’t.

My phone buzzed suddenly, cutting off the conversation, and I quickly glanced down. The message was from Eren.

Eren: You know I’m serious, right? We need to talk.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know if I was ready to talk to him again—didn’t know if I was ready to face what had just happened. But a part of me couldn’t resist.

I locked my phone and put it face down on the coffee table.

Y/N: I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but I’ll figure it out.

The room was quiet again, my friends’ concerned gazes on me as I tried to make sense of everything.

The tension in the air thickened as Mikasa held my phone, her fingers pressing against the screen, and she put it on speaker without a second thought. The moment Eren’s voice crackled through the speakers, my heart skipped in my chest.

Eren: Who are you?

Mikasa: Mikasa, why you calling her phone

Eren: what the fuck? Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: What the fuck are you on?

I could hear Eren sigh on the other end, clearly frustrated, but Mikasa wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She leaned back into the couch, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed as if she could hear him through the phone.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: Answer the question, Eren.

I could feel the weight of his silence pressing through the room, but Mikasa wasn’t backing down either.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Mikasa: Is your record broken in that throat of yours?

I could hear Eren’s breath hitch, probably trying to keep his cool, but the frustration was palpable.

Eren: Take me off speaker, Mikasa. I’m not stupid.

Mikasa didn’t hesitate. She let out a little chuckle, her fingers tapping the edge of the phone like she was playing a game.

Mikasa: Nope.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at how this was escalating. It was almost like they were enjoying this back-and-forth too much.

Eren: You wouldn’t get it.

Mikasa: Get what, Yeager?

Her voice was sharp, and there was a dangerous edge to it now. Eren didn’t respond immediately, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. I could imagine him standing there, running his hand through his hair, annoyed at being backed into a corner by Mikasa of all people.

I leaned back against the couch, my heart still racing from the conversation, unsure of what was going to happen next. I hadn’t expected Mikasa to put him on speaker, but now that she had, there was no turning back. This was going to get messy.

Mikasa: Well?

There was another long pause, and when Eren finally spoke, his tone was more resigned than before.

Eren: I don’t need your fucking permission, Mikasa. I’m trying to talk to Y/N.

I could hear Mikasa’s sharp intake of breath.

Mikasa: And you think she wants to talk to you after what happened?

The words hung in the air like a threat, and I had to force myself to focus on the situation.

Eren: Look, just... just put her on the phone. I need to talk to her.

Mikasa: That’s up to her, not you.

There was a finality to her voice, and I could feel the tension mounting. But deep down, I knew Mikasa was just looking out for me, protecting me from whatever game Eren was trying to play.

I grabbed the phone from Mikasa’s hand, finally deciding to take control of the situation.

Y/N: It’s me. I’m listening.

There was a moment of silence before Eren’s voice, softer than I’d ever heard it, finally came through the line.

Eren: Y/N...

His voice trailed off, and I could hear the mix of frustration and something else—something deeper, maybe regret or concern? I couldn’t tell.

But I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear him out, not yet.

Y/N: What do you want, Eren?

Eren: I... I need to explain. Please, just let me explain.

Mikasa: Y/N, don’t do it. He’s just going to confuse you more.

I glanced over at Mikasa and the others. They were all watching me, their eyes full of concern. I knew they didn’t want me to fall back into this mess with Eren. But part of me... part of me wanted to hear him out.

Y/N: I’m listening, but this better be good, Eren.

Eren sighed, and I could almost picture him pacing.

Eren: I didn’t mean to push you. I got carried away, but I need you to understand. I want you, Y/N. Not just as my employee or some... business thing. I want you. But I don’t know how to fix this. I’m sorry if I fucked things up with you.

I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I listened. His words were raw, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust them. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Was it just guilt talking, or was there something more to it?

Y/N: I don’t know if I can trust you right now, Eren. You’ve crossed too many lines, and I... I don’t know if I can just forget about that.

There was another long pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, it was almost a whisper.

Eren: I know. I get it. I just... I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip. This was getting way too complicated. I wanted to hear him out, but I couldn’t ignore how badly he had hurt me. The push and pull of it all was driving me insane.

.

Y/N: I told you, Eren, but I was never yours.

Eren’s sigh echoed through the phone, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me. It wasn’t just frustration; it was something deeper, like he had finally realized the truth.

Eren: You’re right, but I want you to be...

His words hung in the air, and I could hear the vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected from him. It was almost like he was pleading, but there was still that cocky edge lurking beneath.

Y/N: But if I don’t want that?

Eren’s response came quickly, with a sharp edge.

Eren: Then stop telling me what-ifs and tell me straight up you don’t want me. Then I’ll back off, Y/N. I won’t push you anymore, but I need to hear it from you.

The finality in his tone hit me hard. He was right. All this time, I had danced around the truth, letting the situation unfold without really confronting what I wanted. He wanted honesty, and in that moment, I realized I had to give it to him, no matter how much it stung.

I stood there, phone in hand, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t just about him anymore—it was about me too. What did I want? What did I really want?

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

Y/N: I don’t want you, Eren. Not like that.

The silence on the other end was deafening. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to respond, and I almost regretted saying the words. But I knew I couldn’t take them back.

Eren: Alright... I’ll respect that. But don’t think this is the end of it, Y/N. I’m not giving up so easily.

I could almost hear the smirk in his voice, but this time, it didn’t feel as teasing. It felt like a challenge. Like he was daring me to stand by my decision.

Y/N: Maybe it should be the end of it, Eren.

There was a long pause. I could hear his breathing on the other end of the line, and for a moment, everything felt still.

Eren: You’re making it harder than it needs to be, Y/N. But if that’s how it has to be... fine. You don’t want me. But you’ll regret it.

With that, he ended the call. The finality of it hit me all at once, and I stood there, staring at my phone, trying to shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside me.

Part of me felt relief, like I had finally put an end to all the confusion. But another part of me... part of me wasn’t so sure.

Was I making a mistake?

The next couple of months blurred into a strange, quiet routine. Eren had placed Zeke as my new manager, which, in hindsight, seemed like a relief at first. Zeke was easy to work with—no pressure, no tension. It was smooth sailing, and I almost forgot what it felt like to have that weight hanging over me. But there was always a nagging feeling, an emptiness that I couldn’t quite shake.

Eren... had become more of a distant figure now. He had fully taken over Zeke’s role as CEO, and with that, the office dynamic shifted. The gossip spread like wildfire, and it wasn’t the kind of talk that made him sound like the ambitious businessman people had once admired. No, the rumors about Eren now painted him as a monster—cold, detached, and impossible to work with. People said he was ruthless in meetings, demanding more from the staff, never satisfied, never giving anyone a break. He was the opposite of the manager Eren had been.

I rarely saw him anymore. When I did, it was brief—a passing glance, a fleeting moment where our eyes locked for an instant. It was like he saw right through me, as if I didn’t even exist. His gaze would always shift away before I could even register it. It was almost like I was nothing to him, like he had erased me from his world completely.

The changes were undeniable. Eren’s appearance had shifted drastically. His hair had grown longer, messier, giving him a rougher edge. He had been working out, his frame more defined, his muscles more prominent under his usual attire. But it wasn’t just his physical appearance that had changed. It was the energy he carried now—hardened, cold, and entirely unapproachable. He had tattoos now, ones that were visible under his sleeves when he’d roll them up, and they only seemed to add to the mystery surrounding him.

It felt like I was looking at a stranger.

Sometimes, I caught myself watching him from across the room, like I was some outsider trying to understand who he had become. And whenever I thought I had caught him looking back at me, there was no recognition in his eyes. It was as if I had become just another face in the crowd, an unimportant memory from his past.

I wanted to reach out. I wanted to ask him what had happened, what had changed. But I didn’t. The space between us had grown too wide, too complicated. And I didn’t know how to bridge it anymore.

For the first time in months, I couldn’t help but wonder... Did I really make the right choice? Was I wrong to push him away when everything had seemed to be going in the opposite direction?

The silence between us was loud, deafening. And I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was the one who had caused it all.

Zeke gave me some paper work to drop for Eren. It was the first time I was gonna have direct contact with him in wht 6 months. I headed up to his office floor.

Eren was pacing his office on a call raising his voice at someone on the call. He locked eyes with me and eyed the paper work in my hand.

I stood frozen just inside the doorframe, the papers in my hand suddenly feeling heavier than they should. Eren’s presence seemed to fill the room, his energy, tense and coiled, pulsing through the space like an electric current. His gaze met mine—sharp, cold—and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was suspended.

He didn’t acknowledge me verbally, just motioned toward the desk where he clearly wanted the paperwork dropped. His eyes, dark and intense, briefly flicked over the papers in my hand, as if evaluating my every move. The call on the other end seemed to escalate, but his attention never wavered from me.

“I need this deal settled as of yesterday. Don’t make me fly out there,” he snapped into the phone. His voice was lower now, even more commanding, his frustration evident as he cut the call short with a curt “I’ll handle it myself,” before slamming the phone down.

The office went silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the heavy weight of his stare. I stood there, unsure of what to do next.

He didn’t speak right away, just looked at me with a distant, unreadable expression. His posture was stiff, his jaw clenched, the usual air of authority that had once been reassuring now felt like an impenetrable wall. I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, a stark contrast to the stillness in the room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence. “You still working with Zeke?” His voice was flat, almost too casual, but I could sense the underlying tension.

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, Zeke gave me this to drop off for you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning over the paperwork in my hands again before he let out a small sigh and stepped toward the desk. “Put it on the table.”

I placed the papers down carefully, then turned to leave, but before I could even make it halfway to the door, I heard him speak again.

“You know, you could’ve dropped these off any time in the past six months.” His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He wasn’t asking a question. It was a statement—a reminder of the space that had grown between us.

I paused, caught in the moment, and turned slowly to face him. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

He didn’t reply right away, his gaze lingering on me for a long moment before he spoke again, this time softer, almost like he was speaking to himself. “I didn’t want to see you like that.”

I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But the tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, it was enough to make me pause, to make me reconsider everything I thought I knew.

I swallowed, taking a step closer again. “Eren... what happened?”

For a second, his eyes flickered with something—anger? Regret? But whatever it was, it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “Nothing happened. Everything happened. But that’s not the point.”

The tension in the air thickened, and the silence stretched between us. I could feel the familiar ache in my chest, the one I had been trying to ignore for months. The same ache that told me things weren’t as simple as they seemed. That maybe, just maybe, we weren’t as done as we had both convinced ourselves we were.

I stepped closer again, this time determined. “Then what is the point, Eren?”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say something—anything that would make sense of this mess we were both tangled in. But instead, he took a step back, his expression shutting down again.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, his voice hardening once more. “You’ve done your job. You can go now.”

I stood there for a long second, my heart pounding. Everything about this felt wrong—his coldness, the distance, the way he was shutting me out like he had done months ago. But I didn’t have the words to bridge that gap, not anymore. So, I nodded quietly, turning to leave without another word.

I did something out of character and stepped closer and he stepped back.

I stepped closer, feeling the space between us grow heavier with every breath. Eren, for the first time, took a step back, and I could see it—he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I kept closing the distance. His eyes flickered toward the door like he was looking for a way out.

“Y/N,” his voice was strained, as though he was trying to push me away without actually wanting to.

I didn’t stop. I needed to understand what had changed, why everything felt so off. "What’s with the cold shoulder?" I asked, my voice quieter now, laced with confusion and hurt. I wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

Eren didn’t look at me, his eyes glancing toward the door again. I took another step, moving closer, but every time I did, he pulled back, like I was something to avoid. It was so unlike him, and it confused me even more.

“Y/N, please leave,” he said, the words harsh but with an undercurrent of something I couldn’t name. Maybe it was a plea.

“And if I don’t?” I challenged, my heart hammering in my chest. I wasn’t going to let him push me away without understanding why.

“I’m not doing this, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. “You told me you didn’t want me. I backed off. That’s what you wanted, right? I’m out your hair, out your way.”

I stood there, feeling the tension in the room tighten, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Eren was backing away, his walls back up, that familiar coldness in his eyes. But it wasn’t the same as before. There was something raw in his expression, something deeper. I could feel it, like an undercurrent I couldn’t quite grasp.

“Eren…” I started, my voice faltering. “What happened to you? You look… different. You've changed.”

He glanced at me briefly, his gaze flicking to the door again, but he didn’t respond. It was like he was shutting me out completely, unwilling to even acknowledge what I had said.

I took a step closer, ignoring the instinct to back off. He took a step back too, but I wasn’t going to let him distance himself like this. Not again.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice more desperate than I meant it to be. “Why the distance? Why pull away now?”

“Yn,” he said, his tone tight, almost pained. “Please, just leave. I’m not doing this with you anymore.”

I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t just walk away when there was so much left unsaid between us. I stared at him, taking another step forward. He didn’t move this time, but his jaw tightened, like he was fighting with himself.

“And if I don’t?” I asked, a challenge in my voice.

Eren’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place, and for a second, I thought he might snap. But instead, he stood his ground, shaking his head slightly. “Then you’re just making it harder for both of us.”

I couldn’t understand him anymore. The distance he put between us—physical and emotional—was suffocating, and it was tearing me apart. I had told him I didn’t want him, yes. But that wasn’t all of it. That wasn’t everything.

“I never said I didn’t want you,” I whispered, stepping even closer now, my heart pounding in my chest. “I just didn’t know how to deal with everything... with you, with me. But this... this doesn’t make sense, Eren. What is this really about?”

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but then his expression hardened again. He took another step back, his body language tense, like he was holding back something—something that was just about to break free.

“You told me you didn’t want this,” he said, his voice quieter now but still carrying that weight of finality. “You told me you wanted me to back off. And I did. You’ve made it clear. I’m not going to keep pushing when you don’t want me around.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to say something that would change his mind, but nothing came out. The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I didn’t know how to fix this mess. He was right—he had backed off, he had given me the space I said I needed. But now, it felt like I had been left with nothing. I wasn’t sure if I could walk away from him again.

I stood there, frozen, the words I needed to say stuck in my throat. Eren just stood there too, his eyes still avoiding mine, his body turned slightly away as if trying to create a barrier between us.

Finally, I took a deep breath, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you, Eren. I never wanted you to just… disappear. But you’re right. I didn’t know what I wanted either. But I do now.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly not expecting me to say something like that. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed, stepping closer once again, this time with purpose. “I mean… I’m not ready to walk away from you, Eren. But I need you to stop running from me. Stop running from whatever this is.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes still guarded, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me hope. Maybe we hadn’t completely destroyed what we had. Maybe it was still there, buried underneath all the walls we had both built.

“Just… talk to me, okay?” I whispered, feeling the weight of the moment crash down on me. “Let me in, Eren.”

He hesitated for a long while, and then, just when I thought he might shut me out completely, he finally nodded, though his gaze was still distant.

“I’m sorry, yn. I really am.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried so much weight. “I just… I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

I reached out, a small gesture, but enough to bridge the gap. I didn’t want to give up on him. On us. Not when it felt like there was still something worth fighting for.

“I’ll help you figure it out,” I said softly. “But I need you to be honest with me. About everything.”

Eren looked at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. But eventually, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“I’ll try,” he finally said, his voice a little stronger. “But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

I nodded, offering him a small, hopeful smile. “I know. But we don’t have to do this alone.”

If you guys want a part two with just smut imma write it and drop it. this was already 21.3k words

[inklore]

For the blurb weekend:

Billionaire x employee/staff with Miguel O'Hara please! 💖

use me

— billionaire!miguel o'hara x secretary!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: eighteen+ content, this is an au therefore canon does not live here therefore our boy ain't a sad spiderman just a sad billionaire with shitty morals, tension, masturbation, miguel's mean, also talks of pollution because hello it's realistic the earth is dying.

note: billionaire miguel is perfect because he's smart and gets shit done, is that shit usually done the right way? no but he looks hot doing it soo alls forgiven xoxo.

“You know, if you ran an honest business, you’d have fewer aggravating investors.” The smile that molds itself around the glass pressed to your lips is more of a tease than a pleasantry. 

Pleasantries had packed up and shipped themselves far and wide from the two of you. 

Probably finding safe harbor on a less tremulous land than whatever your and Miguel’s professional relationship was. 

“That could be true,” he says with a deep, agitated sigh. The tip of his nail tapping an angry mark in the wood of his desk. “But then where would leeches like you work?” There’s barely a twitch of his lips when he cuts you with the words, his brows stagnant in that deadly, irritable look he always has. 

“Oh wow,” you cough at the sting of the expensive vodka rather than at the wound his words are meant to cause. Your heels sound louder against the polished floor in his office than any other room within the ten story building as you make your way away from the small bar—your boss's lack of personalized photos, or even something inspirational as a flower on the wall, amplifying your movements.

“The meeting must have gone horribly if you’re being extra cruel tonight.” You set yourself in one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk, the un-offered liquor in your glass almost gone from your descent from the bar to the black cushion currently under your pencil skirt. 

He grunts, his eyes fleeting over your body for half a second before he turns and stares across the room where the floor to ceiling windows show the lights of the city and the moon's distortion of the yellow haze it’s not, naturally, supposed to have shadowing. 

The man made yellow of machines and gases that cover even the stars. That makes one forget they're even there until you’re far from the city, and it’s hounds who are only trying to gain some worth of money or self discovery from polluting it. 

The head of the hounds sitting right in front of you. 

The man who owns more companies than you could fill up an entire filing cabinet with. The man every business tycoon and money hungry scoundrel wants to latch onto only to get a taste of the beautiful brain that's beneath that great head of hair and intimidating scowl.

The richest man in the room. 

Always. 

And if Miguel is part of the reason that the moon is overcast and the stars disappearing, then so be it. He’s past the point of going about it the right way. Of turning his vision and man made billion dollar corporation around, he’s in too deep. Done too much. 

He’s not a man who sees a life lesson and ignores it for what it could be. He takes it for what it is and continues on his way. What’s done is done. What’s going to happen, will happen. 

He wasn’t the first person to start a security company that became more, did more, and blurred some of the lines between too much and too little. A set of rules laid out by himself for himself so everything goes right. Accordingly, to keep business booming. 

And he won’t be the last. 

Miguel is not a bad man.

He just does the things that most people are too afraid to do. To face. To look at the reality of people and their selfish needs and not shy away from the darkness that lies underneath it. The cause, the effect. 

Miguel can both stop them and make them happen. 

It’s why he’s the best. 

It’s why you chose to work for him. Even if the words currently coming out of his mouth say differently. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing that I don't run an honest business. Makes it easier to get rid of the staff.” 

The gasp you let out is dramatic and makes his jaw tick, “oh, no, please don’t fire me, Mr. O’hara. Whatever will I do? I have a family.” You perform. Give your best pout and hand over your heart to sell it. 

“No one has a family here.” 

Strike the meeting going horribly. Grim seems more on the money. 

And maybe if your work relationship had the boss and employee lines drawn in a permanent marker rather than an erasable one that keeps getting reapplied after nights like these, you’d ask him if he was alright. To talk about it. To give him unsolicited advice that might make the demons in the boardroom gnawing at his morality stop plaguing him. 

But that’s not what this was. 

Who both of you are.

He was your boss. You his secretary. 

And some nights, you were his only outlet for the aggressions of the day. Of being Miguel O’hara. 

So that’s why you don’t say another word. Just finish the rest of the contents of your glass in silence. Your eyes moving along the room, following his gaze out the window. The clink the glass makes from you setting it on the edge of his desk is not enough to have him look your way or stop the tightening and strain of his jaw muscles. 

But when you lean back in the chair, your fingertips dancing along the edge of your blouse as if there were a piece of lint there. As if you weren’t making a show of running them along your cleavage and across the peaks of your chest until they dipped down to your abdomen. Past your hips, until you get to the bottom of your skirt.

Your eyes finally looking up to see Miguel’s already on you. To see how hard his fist is tightening against his desk. 

A ghost of a smirk edging its way at the corner of your mouth as you pull up your skirt until it’s tight around your thighs. Your middle and index finger running along the outside lace of your underwear before adding the smallest of pressures against your clothed clit making you gasp. 

“Are you in the mood to watch tonight?” You ask. Making a show of spreading your legs further apart in the chair, a heel comes up to rest at the corner of his desk to give him the perfect view of you pulling your underwear to the side and running your fingers through your slit. “Or do you want to touch?” 

There’s not an answer right away. 

At least not in words. 

The glint in his eye that most associate with his angry outburst is the sign you know to be of his control slipping. The ache you know his wrist feels from how tight his fist is giving way to all the degrading thoughts he’s having in his head to try and hold back the beast that’s begging to be released—for a release. 

That you’re always so eager to give him.

The more your moans and sighs fill the room, the wetter you become from your fingers moving against your clit, teasing at your entrance: the more you see Miguel’s controlled demeanor slip. The more you feel that coil tightening in your lower belly. 

“Miguel,” you say his name in that breathy way that always makes him swallow harder. That has him burying his face in the crook of your neck, so you can’t see how much he fucking loves it when he’s pounding into you. “You deserve it. Let yourself have it.” The whimper that falls from your lips when you push two fingers inside of you makes your leg propped on his desk shake.

“Use me.” 

Is what apparently nails the coffin for him. 

What has him getting up from his chair and stomping over to you in three quick strides, looking like an animal whose prey has been dangling in front of them for hours and he’s finally had enough; all in danger of his wrath. 

The sting of his fingers at the back of your scalp as he pulls you from the chair, pushing your ass against the edge of his desk. His other hand squeezing below your jaw, fingers pressed hard against the strumming vein of your quickened heartbeat. 

“Say it again,” he growls. His heavy breath mixes with yours as his lips ghost against your open mouth. The hand at your scalp leaves an ache in its wake as he grabs your wrist and places your palm against the hard bulge in the front of his pants. “Tell me I deserve it.” Your gasp falls into his mouth when his hand tightens around your throat. “Tell me to use you. Beg.”  

[r4vn]

–LATE BLOSSOM

farleıgh x reader 【1/3】

w.c: 2,183

disclaimers: sensual tension, dilf!farleigh, secretary!reader, beginning of the good stuff be patient please!, oliver is a good person (*gasp*), companyAU!, cutesy, intro, pls dont bored im cooking guys *_*

—synopsis: you went to work expecting a normal day, when suddenly your boss tells you that you have been moved under new management in a new building. you now work right under the man who owns the company, and nearly a year in, he is still full of surprises.

a/n: hello! i was inspired by @girlboybug to write a fic on dilf!farleigh. this is the beginning but i hope you stay with me till the end! please be patient with me my summer has been (fortunately) real busy! ty so much for the support!

– part ²: here.

「divider by @/ cafekitsune」

you sort of always considered that you got a late start in life. never in academics and such, but in adulthood. you had your first kiss way later than everyone else, at 18. you got your driver license late at 20, due to your fear of driving, and you got your first flat around 22 years of age. you were now 26 and living a very, well, uneventful life. you worked at a real estate corporation for the last 3 years of your life. you worked, sometimes went to the gym afterwards, and went home.

everyone you knew were beginning their lives, getting married, having kids, or simply just moving in with their significant others. you lived in a shared apartment, with no kids, and certainly no lover. your last known boyfriend was back when you were 20. the guy was a major narcissist, who nearly liked to kiss himself in the mirror and never really treated you well. it lasted for about 6 months before you were done with him.

you would occasionally go out with your roommate, oliver. whenever the two of you had the evening off. oliver is relatively a nice guy, who had a small wild side. whenever the two of you would go out he would always outdrink you and you never could catch up with his tolerance. you loved challenging him even if you could never beat him. other than hanging out with oliver, work was practically your life.

who you worked for, was a little more interesting. about six months ago, you switched buildings under different management. it was rather very abrupt in the day. you walked into your job and sat down at your desk outside your boss's room before your then boss asked you why you were here. you were confused, before she explained that you were moved under a different building and why. that morning you quickly drove to your new workplace and practically ran through the cubicles. you finally made it to the elevator and press floor 60, the top floor, and ran down the hall in your black mary janes and short pencil skirt.

you cursed to yourself for wearing such a skirt on this day. why did this have to happen to you of all people? a sudden job switch was not on the list this morning. you finally arrived at office room 636 quickly checked the time. you were exactly 5 minutes early.

oh thank god. i can breathe..

you began to slow your breathing. suddenly, you noticed how this particular office door was auburn brown instead of black like all the other doors. your brows narrowed before finding the nameplate on the door.

" farleigh start

saltburn estates, CEO "

you gulped, darting your head to each end of the ironically empty hallway. you've only worked under general managers and supervisors, never a CEO. why were you even hired for this job? your hand grabbed the door and you pushed it open, knocking simultaneously. you wore a mostly confident smile as you finally faced your new boss.

"good morning, sir." you greeted. the male brunette looked up from his laptop and his brows immediately furrowed.

"who're you?" he asked, clearly perplexed.

"i'm– [y/n, l/n] ..your new secretary. i uh ..i was moved from a different building to fill your last one's spot after she left." you explained. farleigh subtly looked you up and down that morning before smiling gently at you.

"well hello [y/n], wonderful to meet you." your cheeks warmed, nodding at him. he seemed charming for sure.

"same to you." you looked down at your shoes, smiling to yourself. you thought he was pretty, gorgeous even. his curls were tight and defined. he had shiniest brown eyes with the longest lashes and god, his cheekbones fit him so well. the lined-up scruffiness that occupied his jaw and chin made him more intimidating. not in a bad way, but more of a mysterious and intriguing one. he wore his black on black suit very well. you dont think you've seen a more handsome man in your life.

"you like croissants?" he suddenly asked. you were taken back at the sudden random question but immediately nodded. he snapped, and pointed a finger gun at you, smiling.

"fantastic, can you grab us some croissants from the cafe block down? doesn't matter what kind you get. use the company card." you nodded and shuffled your way to the door to exit his office. you couldn't help but smile, getting a feeling that this job may be more eventful than your last.

fast forward 9 months, life ironically got just a little brighter after switching job positions. working for farleigh was the same work, essentially but somehow it felt different. you were looking forward to working nearly every shift now. farleigh's various food requests left you on the craziest goose chases around the city. from getting thai food on the west side of london to vietnamese or very specific macarons on the east.

what made these adventures more fun was due to farleigh texting you throughout your walks or drives through the city. he wanted your number to make sure you updated him on your way there, and for your safety. you never texted him outside of work, you were too afraid he would turn you down in a way, and that would be super embarrassing.

"and so you saw two pigeons break dancing on the sidewalk?" farleigh asked with a grin. you laughed, nodding in response to his question. you placed the 16-count box of assorted macarons on mr.start's desk, smiling.

"well, they sure were not playing rock-paper-scissors. so i went with the realistic decision that they were break-dancing." you grinned. a chuckle slipped past farleighs lips, causing your chest to feel warmer.

"right, [y/n]. because pigeons fighting wasn't another good answer." the brunette playfully deadpanned before laughing one last time. he eagerly opened the box of fresh macarons, grabbing a coffee flavored one. he took a bite and immediately closed his eyes in contentment. you made a mental note he always saved most of the coffee macarons for last. whether it be 2 or 6 in the 16-count, he made sure he ate one first and another last.

"talk to me about today, [y/n]." farleigh mentions. you snap out of your mental folder on your boss and open your laptop up for today's schedule.

"you have a 10:30am call with finance, a 12:00pm call with crisis management, a 2:00pm meeting with advertisement, and a 4:00pm team meeting with floor supervisors." farleigh grabs another macaron, raspberry flavored while listening.

"hmm ..let's reschedule my 2:00pm with the advertisement team tomorrow, that way i won't be completely bored with my one meeting tomorrow with janet." he suggested. janet was the chief operating officer, the COO.

"yes sir." you nod and began rescheduling the preferred meeting. he thanked you, eating the rest of the macaron in his hand. your eyes then glanced over, watching as his thumb wiped the corner of his mouth. he licked his lips, causing you to immediately look away. you felt a little flustered in the face, because anything that man did was attractive to you.

"i think for the brunch meeting on friday i move it to monday ..and ...so i can.." you vaguely listened to farleigh ramble. your boss always rambled out of anxiousness yet he did everything so calmly and smoothly. how he did it was so attractive to you. he wasn't a boy with a high position, but a man with a well-deserving job. the way he carried himself simply lured you in. you blinked away your thoughts of your boss and cleared your throat.

"siiir," you start with a singy-songy tone. "you have 10 minutes to speak to finance. floor 59." you add, chuckling as farleigh caught himself rambling. he pursed his lips together trying to both shut up and not smile. he held up his index finger to signal you to give him a a moment and then rigorously typed away at his computer. a moment passed, and the tall male slowly began standing up out of his chair as he typed.

"sir.." you press on, giggling. he playfully hushed you, finally stopped typing and closed the laptop. farleigh grabbed his blazer off the back of his chair to exit.

being mr.start's secretary has allowed you to learn to relax at work. maybe it's because you never knew the word around your last job, but farleigh would catch you stressing out before telling you to take a breather. he wasn't the most extroverted person you knew but the minimal talking you two did, you cherished. you recapped your day in your mind every evening before bed. if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was your work crush. but of course, you'd never admit that even to yourself. the two of you walk out the office together, side by side.

°°°

it was early evening and many employees were wrapping up their shift. it was a rather smooth day of talking business and building contracts.

"its getting late in the day, you sure you want to stay until i leave?" farleigh questioned, groaning as he sat back down in his own personal office chair. he was drained from speaking to several people today, but glad he could enjoy another few macarons now.

"why not? i don't have anything better to do." you shrugged and laughed sheepishly. farleigh had raised a brow, eating a vanilla macaron.

"you don't go out?" you open your mouth to answer farleighs question and close it, thinking of a way to explain your social status. there was nothing to fully elaborate on really but you really didn't want to look like a loner to mr.start.

"well," you began. "i go out with my roommate occasionally, but other than that my schedule consists of work, the gym, and home." farleigh hums in response. he grabbed another coffee macaron and held it up towards you, offering it. you got up and happily accepted the sweet pastry from the mams slender digits.

"i understand, i'd like to say i'm the same way. but this weekend i am going to a business event. it's not the greece or new zealand but atleast im out of this damned building." the two of you share a laugh at his words. his phone digs, and his brown eyes divert to the notification appearing on his phone.

"oh nonono.." you hear your boss mumble, making you perk up.

"whats wrong, sir?" you ask. he sighed loudly and flipped his phone over, rubbing his scruffy jaw with his hand.

"i uh– my babysitter just canceled on me the day of the business event." babysitter? you tilt your head, trying to keep your shock suppressed but slowly fail.

"you have a child?" you ask, clearly bewildered while farleigh looked up at you chuckling. his pearly whites nearly mesmerized you.

"yes, [y/n] i have a child. a son." you swallow thickly at his words. your mind couldn't help but wander. how have you worked for the ceo of one of england's biggest real estate companies for nearly a year now and never knew he had a son?

"i didn't know that. what's his name if i may ask?" you continued. you didn't want to pry, but this was the type of news that needed questions to be asked. it made you wonder if farleigh was married now.

"his name benjamin. i didn't expect you to know that i have a son. i keep my personal life very separate from work. behind the scenes as such." farleigh explains, picking up his phone to respond to the text.

"and your babysitter just canceled?" you repeat, trying to quickly piece together an image of farleigh with a miniature version of him.

"yes, unfortunately. it's so last minute considering it is thursday and the event is saturday." farleigh sets his phone back down and opens just computer again, sighing. a mildly comfortable silence laid over the room, yet you were still tense. your mind gears kept generating the same idea and you kept silently denying it until–

"i could babysit for you." you blurted out. farleighs fingers stopped typing at the keys and he looked your way. he raised a brow with inquisitiveness, scanning your face to see if you were serious. you were.

"you, would babysit my son?" he asks. you cleared your throat awkwardly, nodding.

"w-why not? i mean– i am your secretary, the closest person to you in his building." farleigh tried his damndest to keep his smile to a minimum as he gazed at you and you watched at the corners of his lips twitched. "be at my place at 1:30pm. i'll send my address the morning of."

you finally smiled, nodding before going back to your work on your laptop till the end of your shift. admittedly, you were excited to meet benjamin, and a little more excited to see mr.start's home.

© r4vn ²⁰²⁴, do not repost my work

stay tuned! ♡

[matcha3mochi]

roommates // chapter 1

synopsis: living with your childhood friends can't be that bad, right?

various! jjk x reader

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

next

The chaos began six months ago, but in a way, it had been brewing for longer than that. Life had a funny way of throwing curveballs, and your most recent one hit harder than usual.

It all started when the company you'd been working at for the past few years—your first “real” adult job—suddenly went bankrupt. There had been warning signs, of course. Layoffs here and there, hushed conversations in the break room, an ever-increasing workload as the higher-ups scrambled to keep things afloat. But no one expected the announcement to come so suddenly.

One minute, you were mindlessly typing up reports in your tiny cubicle; the next, you were sitting in a mandatory company-wide meeting, staring blankly at the CEO as he delivered the bad news with all the enthusiasm of a man who had clearly checked out months ago.

"We regret to inform you," he had said, voice monotone, "that due to unforeseen financial difficulties, the company will be ceasing all operations immediately."

Immediately? You barely had time to process what was happening before your coworkers started packing up their desks in stunned silence. The moment you walked out of that office for the last time, you were no longer gainfully employed—and without severance, to make things worse.

The first few weeks after the bankruptcy were a blur. Your savings were quickly drying up, and the job market was ruthless. Nothing seemed to stick—no matter how many applications you sent out, you couldn't catch a break. Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, your landlord gave you notice that the building was being renovated, forcing you to move out immediately. Now you were jobless and about to be homeless.

You sighed as you pushed open the door to the convenience store where you now worked. A far cry from your corporate job, but at least it paid the bills… well, some of them. You’d been lucky to snag the position, honestly—Mai, your coworker, had been the one to suggest applying. They’d been desperate for staff, and you were desperate for anything.

Still, going from a cushy office job to stocking shelves, manning the register, and dealing with cranky customers at all hours of the day (and sometimes night) was jarring. You hadn’t exactly dreamed of a career in convenience retail, but after the whirlwind of the last few months, stability, however temporary, was a blessing.

"Hey, Y/N," Mai called from behind the counter, flashing you a grin as you entered. "Rough day already?"

"Is it that obvious?" you groaned, dropping your bag behind the register and grabbing your apron.

Mai smirked. "You've got that ‘I’ve had it with everything’ vibe. It's probably the living situation, huh?"

"You have no idea," you muttered, tying your apron and preparing yourself for the usual rush of customers.

“I went from a sleek office chair to a creaky stool behind the register. I think I need a degree in psychology to handle the late-night customers.”

Mai chuckled, nodding. “Welcome to retail! You learn to read people fast. Just last week, I had a guy try to haggle for a pack of gum like we were at a flea market.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you imagined the scene. “At least it’s not boring, right?”

“True, true! You’ll have some wild stories to tell.” Mai leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of stories, have you heard about the guy who keeps coming in and trying to buy the entire stock of energy drinks? I swear, it’s like he thinks he’s prepping for a marathon.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “No way! Does he actually drink them all?”

“Who knows? But it’s hilarious watching him get all defensive when I tell him we have a limit per customer.” Mai rolled her eyes playfully. “Just the other night, he tried to convince me that he needed them for a ‘very important project.’”

“Right, because that’s a totally valid reason,” you replied with a laugh as the first wave of customers trickled in.

As you settled into a rhythm of ringing up snacks and drinks, your mind wandered to thoughts of reconnecting with your childhood friends. You hadn’t seen them in ages, and the idea of a reunion felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. Just as you were about to ring up a customer, your phone buzzed on the counter, drawing your attention. You quickly glanced at the screen and saw a message from Geto in your childhood friend group chat.

Geto: “Anyone in Tokyo these days? I’m moving there next month.”

You stared at the message for a moment. You hadn’t known he was moving. Coincidentally, you had been planning to relocate for job opportunities, and a strange feeling crept up on you. One by one, the others replied.

Nanami: “Same here. I didn’t know you were moving, Geto.”

Toji: “In town for work. We should catch up.”

Your stomach twisted in a mixture of excitement and dread. You hadn’t seen them in months—everyone had grown distant since childhood, and while you occasionally exchanged pleasantries on birthdays or holidays, life had taken you all in different directions. When you replied, you kept it casual, not wanting to reveal just how much your life had unraveled recently.

You: “I’m also in Tokyo! Let’s meet up sometime!”

It didn’t take long for Gojo to suggest drinks. Of course he did.

The bar Gojo picked was, predictably, obnoxious. It was one of those trendy places with dim lighting and overpriced cocktails. You hadn’t been sure what to expect when you stepped inside, but the moment you spotted the familiar faces, a wave of nostalgia hit you hard.

You spotted Gojo first, waving wildly from across the room. His grin was as wide and infectious as ever, his bright white hair standing out in the dim lighting. He was wearing his usual oversized black sweater, sleeves pushed up to reveal his lean, toned arms, and his sunglasses perched atop his head as if he were making some grand fashion statement.

“Y/N!” he called, motioning you over to the booth where the others were already gathered.

You took a deep breath and approached, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling in your chest. Geto greeted you with his usual calm, easygoing smile, his long dark hair tied back in a loose bun, a few strands framing his face. He wore a simple, well-fitted black shirt that showed off the broadness of his shoulders and the subtle tattoos that peeked out from beneath the sleeves.

Nanami gave you a nod of acknowledgment. His blonde hair was neatly slicked back, and he wore a tailored gray suit, though the jacket was discarded to reveal his dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Despite the setting, he looked as though he could walk into a boardroom at any moment, his sharp features giving off an air of quiet authority.

Toji, leaning casually against the booth with his muscular arms crossed, offered a smirk that hadn’t changed in all the years you’d known him. His dark hair was tousled in that effortlessly cool way, and he was dressed in a simple black shirt that clung to his well-defined chest and arms. There was something rugged about him, a sharpness in his jawline and the way his emerald-green eyes appraised you that made it clear he was still the same cocky troublemaker you remembered.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Geto said, giving you a friendly hug as you sat down.

“Too long,” you said, hugging him briefly before taking a seat between him and Nanami. Toji was on the opposite end of the table, casually sipping a drink as he observed the group with that smirk you remembered all too well.

Nanami, ever the stoic, gave you a polite nod. “How’s everything?”

You forced a smile, not wanting to dive into the whole ‘I just lost my job and am probably going to be homeless soon’ conversation. “It’s… been better. But it’s good to see you all.”

Gojo slid a drink across the table toward you with a grin. “You look like you need this more than anyone.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip of what you immediately recognized as something far too strong for the start of the night. Gojo always had a knack for picking the worst possible drink choices.

The first hour passed in a whirlwind of reminiscing. You laughed about old childhood memories—the ridiculous pranks Gojo used to pull, the time Geto convinced you all to sneak out to watch a horror movie, and Nanami’s early obsession with studying that kept him from joining in on most of the chaos. Toji, of course, had been the rebellious one, always dragging you into some kind of mischief.

“Remember when Y/N got stuck in that tree because she tried to follow Toji up there?” Gojo laughed, eyes glinting with mischief.

You groaned. “I was six.”

“And you were so mad at Toji for leaving you up there!” Geto added, chuckling.

Toji raised an eyebrow, a smug grin creeping onto his face. “You weren’t ready for the climb.”

“You could have helped me down!” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Nanami shook his head. “I was the one who had to call for help. No one else seemed concerned that she was stuck up there for an hour.”

“That’s because you were the responsible one,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

Gojo leaned in, his grin widening. “Anyway, what’s everyone up to these days? I know Nanami’s still a corporate slave, but what about the rest of you?”

Geto was the first to speak. “I’m starting a nonprofit. Trying to get things off the ground.”

That sounded about right for him—always the one to care about bigger causes. You nodded approvingly. “That’s awesome, Geto.”

Toji shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I’m doing freelance work. You know, keeping busy.”

Gojo snorted. “Freelance work? You mean muscle-for-hire.”

“Something like that,” Toji replied with a smirk.

The conversation moved around the table, each of them sharing what they’d been up to in the years since you’d drifted apart. It felt strangely natural, like no time had passed, and yet, so much had changed.

Eventually, the spotlight turned to you.

“What about you, Y/N?” Geto asked, his gaze soft but curious. “How’s life treating you?”

“I’m... getting by,” you said vaguely, swirling your drink as you avoided eye contact. “Had some changes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Gojo, always a little too perceptive for his own good, leaned in with a grin. “Changes, huh? Come on, you’re hiding something. Spill.”

You sighed. “Fine. My company went under, and I’ve been stuck working at a convenience store for now.”

“That sucks,” Geto said sympathetically. “Are you okay? Do you need help finding something new?”

You appreciated their concern but shrugged it off. “I’ll manage. It’s not ideal, but I’ll figure it out.”

Toji, who had been watching you closely the whole time, spoke up. “You still looking for a place to stay?”

You blinked, surprised that he knew about your housing situation. “Uh, yeah. My landlord’s renovating, so I’ve got to move out soon.”

“Why not stay with us?” Gojo blurted out, clearly not thinking it through.

Nanami’s brow furrowed immediately. “Gojo, don’t—”

“I’m serious!” Gojo interrupted, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “We’ve got space, and it’d be just like old times, right?”

You laughed, though the idea seemed ridiculous. “Are you serious? All of us, living together again? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Geto chuckled softly. “It’d be chaotic, for sure, but it could be fun.”

“Or a disaster,” Nanami added dryly, giving Gojo a pointed look.

But the more you thought about it, the more the idea stuck. You needed a place, and as crazy as it sounded, the thought of living with them again—of being close to your childhood friends—was oddly comforting.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found yourself nodding. “Alright. But only until I get back on my feet.”

Gojo whooped in victory, raising his glass. “To our new roommate!”

And just like that, your fate was sealed. The reunion had brought you back together, and now, you were officially moving in with the four of them. What could possibly go wrong?

[goaskangel]

bookie!

journalist!reader x business-man!hakari

cw...NSFW, slight manipulation, mention of intox, use of "mister" "sir" "doll", dumification, degradation, all the usual smut stuff LOL

word count...4.8k

a/n...this is my first fic ive posted publicly EEEK lowk nervy but i've read like 2 good hakari fics on this mf website and i js figured i might as well do it myself. my writing here IS NOT MY BEST, i plan to indulge into how i usually write. smut is a little harder for me to write so be patient AND NICE PLZ. mdni!please understand what kind of media you are consuming and be smart about it.

just the way hakari presented himself, it felt as if even if you didn’t suspect anything from him, it was obvious he was a secretive and cocky man. from how he dressed with his constant change between pimpy-fur coats and vulgar tanks with his ever-changing colored hair between purples, blacks, and blondes, it was no surprise he must’ve lied his way to the top. 

and even with this assumption, you couldn’t deny the offer of living with him and your company's team. not necessarily living with him but staying in a private luxury hotel, and sure, maybe your job here wasn’t very important as a journalist but your boss insisted on you attending. 

what kind of moron would pass on the opportunity of possibly breaking through one of japan’s wealthiest and slyest business men anyway?

something about interviews but mostly projects, maybe even a documentary went in your ear and out the other when your boss spoke to you about the expectations on this “trip.”

after being stuck on a reserved bus, you finally manage to push through and make it to a not very deserted place. matter of fact it was right in front of a busy street in the busiest city. you stretched your legs, cracked a few fingers, and headed to the entrance of the tall—what seemed to be marbled—hotel. if you could even call it that. seemed like a resort more than anything. you were told your bags full of equipment for work and clothes for the three day project would be handled by security. the front of the building were two big guards protecting any outsiders. pretty confidential for just a few days. it stays on brand with hakari’s whole attitude, a whole ass hotel in the city only allowing a few people with specific identification. 

inside it looked like everybody from every corporate office in town had been messily dragged in.  heavy steel tables were set randomly with even heavier bags and briefcases on top, open with papers and documents spilling out. 

the man himself was sitting at one of the sturdy desks, his head down.

before you noticed that he decided to go purple, left his black blazer on the shoulders of the chair he sat on, you watched as his hand shook carefully on a paper given to him by the lady standing nearby. 

his hot pink eyes dart back and forth across the page. you assume he was looking for another place to sign because he handed it right back to her after examining. hakari returns back to a binded notebook, the pen still in his fingers. he scribbles words down vigorously. part of you wonders what he’s got going on. another part wonders where your room will be. 

you observe the rest of the lobby. you glance at your boss finally coming through security, the dumb, happy guy starts a conversation with almost everyone as he came. he calls hakari over as if they’ve known each other since the dawn of time, and he follows. they greet one another and you go blank on the rest until your name is called. quickly, you turn to face the men again and walk towards them.

"if the interview goes well—which i'm sure it will—perhaps the documentary could follow up.” your boss explains, still turnt to hakari.

“mhm oh yeah man i’m sure of it, yep.” he agrees, mooning. his white button up hugging him perfectly. 

scrunched up sleeves, pen marks on his forearms. a few buttons undone from the neck. 

“this young lady right here is the foundation of the writing department.”

“oh yeah. so i’ve read.” 

he reaches a hand out, “took you a while to say hi.” 

“you seemed busy, signing shit n’ whatnot.” you smile politely and firmly shake his hand. he cheeses a toothy grin, blue and silver gems shine back at you. 

“pardon her words, man. you know how writers are—can write page upon pages yet their mind goes blank when they have a chance to speak—hah.” your boss shines his own nervous smile. 

“ya, know what they say about business men, can talk for hours and hours, spill what seems to be almost everything, and still have secrets.” he darts his eyes to yours before closing and laughing richly with the older man. 

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you spend the rest of the night cozying up into your hotel room and lazily journaling down ideas, even scraping up an idea against hakari. you stretch your arms after tossing your notebook shut, you glance over at the alarm on the desk,

11:24 P.M. 

it would be a good time to grab a snack, now that everyone should be asleep. at least you hope so as you walk out in casual clothes. 

you toss the room’s card from hand to hand and pass quiet rooms until turning left to the snack bar. you were told earlier that food would be available for the company whenever, so you figured it must be open now too, with all the staff asleep or at their posts. 

there was an incredible aroma of columbian brew with a dash of vanilla dancing with something hot, something fresh out of the oven. you’re greeted with his strong back. shaped tightly, almost too tight, was a simple white tank. on caramel skin, his wide shoulders flexed as he took a small spoon into his mug, tossing sugar packets and singles of liquid creamers into a trash bin. but it doesn’t really phase you. what were the chances of somebody being here? let alone hakari. it’s ironic and mostly awkward. 

you could’ve left but the pastry before you was calling your name. how awkward could it really be?

you walk towards the counter he was just at, he who was walking back to a two-chaired table. 

“it’s almost midnight.” he speaks and you freeze as if you’ve been caught. obviously, you haven’t, so you quickly grabbed a floral napkin and the pastry. 

“writers stay up late, i know that. but they’re usually alone.”

“well how was i supposed to know somebody else was gonna be up? it is almost midnight.”

“you’re the one writing stories about me and talking shit, i’d assume you’d know everything about me.” he grins as he pulls a chair out, sitting in it and slowly stirring his coffee. steam swirls up from the cup. “take a seat.” 

you walk to him and pull the other chair out, sitting quietly. you break apart the food in your hands and eat it piece by piece, examining the table subtly. 

he’d been sitting there for a while; papers closed a binder with a few pens spilt around. an empty chip bag, a few crumbs near the bottom of the coffee cup, his hands warming up around it. 

his hands were nice.

you swallow casually and look back at him. “you read my stuff? which one of your little employees do you have search for works written about you, huh?” 

“i find ‘em myself, ‘nd you're lucky i don’t report them. can’t have nasty stuff circulating around me, whether if it’s true or not.” 

“—or should i call them workers instead?” you ignore him. 

“your writing is admirable.” 

something about that made you lose track of what you were saying. 

you lay back in your chair and mumble an okay. 

you watch as he takes a sip of his sugared coffee, the steam cupping his face gently and flowing up. 

“so when do you sleep?” 

“i’ll go in a couple,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “schedule’s got all fucked ever since i got here. my manager—and don’t tell her i said this—doesn’t understand the concept of time, or maybe she’s fucking with me. how can i get three hours of paperwork done, meetings between each pile, ‘nd make phone calls back to back, but can’t stay up late?” 

“damn, you’ve even got your sleep schedule sorted?” 

“gotta sneak out here like some goddamn teenager. it’s no big deal, she’s knocked out at 10. jus’ gotta keep kissing her ass and thank her for taking such good care of me. she won’t suspect a thing.” 

you giggle at the irony, “might as well be your girlfriend.” 

“god, more like my mom.” you can see the outline of his tongue grazing his teeth as he grins. probably feeling the gems on his smile, you cross your legs at the view. 

funny and handsome. 

speaking of closing your thighs—you remember you have to get back to your room. 

“we’ve got just three days,” you say as you stand from your chair, “i’m sure we’ll have to work our asses off tomorrow.” hakari looks up at you.

“hmm nobody tell you wha’s happening either?” 

you shake your head and carefully bite the inside of your lip. 

“m’kay. have a good rest of your night, then.” he nods back down and sips his coffee. his tone indicated he practically knew you weren’t sleeping immediately. to enjoy the rest of your night. 

“yeah, i’ll make sure of it. goodnight.” 

as happy as you were to receive a half-vacation, half-business trip at a hotel – the benefits of not having to wake up early just to drive almost an hour to work everyday, the entire company just being outside, your hands would not suffice. you thought to yourself earlier, how great it’d be to stay in a nice, cool room and wind down from a long day. keeping dirty fantasies in your head and just when you thought the tight, small circles on your heat could master an orgasm. but the thought of him kept interrupting. 

a hand crawling up your neck and the other circling underneath your panties. closing your eyes as you concentrated on silver-haired men kissing your breasts, guys who stunk of cigarettes and coffee making out with your clit, god anybody willing to run their hands on your body. you jolt at the sudden twitch of your cunt, your back arching slightly. you groan. the man you’ve been practically stalking and have to work with is now appearing in your head while you masturbate. you switch the bedside lamp off and take off-white sheets over yourself. 

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on the second day, you pass new people while walking down narrow hallways. each person looking more tired than the one before. you notice just how many people could fill up the lobby and snack bar. as enticing the syrup from breakfast smelled, you keep your distance from everybody else. carefully, you lick the inner of your lips and taste the lipgloss you applied earlier. 

now popping your lips, backing up slowly, still examining the room until you feel what seems to be a pillar or wall behind you. 

“hey… you got a light?” behind you. tall, peeping over you – was that a fur coat? hakari watches everybody else almost as intently as you were. 

you stutter before reaching into your coat’s pocket, “yeah.” he takes it and quickly lights the now-appeared-cigarette of his mouth. 

“a smoke for breakfast? that can’t be healthy.” you cross your arms as he flips the lighter in the air. 

“it wouldn’t have been, hun, we had breakfast this morning already. don't you remember?” he exhales smoke that passes your jaw, making you shudder. 

“here, sounds like you need it.” he says the last part through his teeth, pinching the end of the cig and lowering it to your mouth. you glare to your side and lean in to wrap your lips around it, inhaling. you pull away and spew smoke out much more discreetly. he takes another, blowing it out, licking his lips, “tastes like bubblegum.” 

after set-ups and mic-checks in steel stools and numerous questions, you’re sitting in front of a laid-back hakari. his legs man-spread and his hands fixing his hair every other second. a very specific rage comes back to you. the same anger that you felt staying up to post blogs about complicated, but evident-filled, theories and what you truly think is the truth about the man sitting in front of you. the feeling is nostalgic. your nerves are overfilled with different emotions – since when could a man controlling so many industries, controlling so many people and still handle an underground fight club while acting like a semi-normal person? but normal people don’t wear fur-fucking-coats on the regular, let alone keep illegal ranges where people fight like bears just to be bet on like horses. 

two cups of steaming coffee are placed in the high-wooden table between you and hakari. 

“this part of the interview will be audio-presented. the second part will be videotaped.” the host of the section stands above the recorder, the rest of the crew standing around or still finishing breakfast. “etiquette for the tape is pretty simple – ‘ms and mr’ is usually set and the rest is self-explanitory.” 

you nod kindly and look at the man, meeting his eyes, ones that perhaps never left you. 

easy, almost-boring questions are asked but it hadn’t prepared you for what was going to come. the questions slowly make less and less connection and stay focused on hakari. “ethicality is mentioned within businesses and is no exception to your work, ms l/n.” before being asked the repetitive question, the topic being how many times can we make hakari look like a god in one tape, you interrupt the host. 

“morals are nowhere to be found in such work. there’s – again – no sense.” now slouched, hakari responds, “tell me, when searching for a job that pays well, were you interested in the pay or how many hours you had to work? ‘s there something you w’na say about being able to survive or how comfortable you are?” 

“sometimes it just boggles me to think about how one person needs more than one business. is it for fun, mister?”

“is what for fun, girl?” 

“is being a con-man to violent people and making them believe knocking each other’s teeth out will help for fun?” 

the host stutters and gets shushed, “well, you’re very right. that wouldn’t be ethical at all.” he smiles very faintly. too faintly for you to lash out and not make it seem like you’re crazy. 

“untruthful about being a bookie and fight-promoter. does gachinko ring a bell?”

“any more questions? how about all my employees' salaries? wanna know my salary? how’s about ‘you busy after this?’” 

the recorder falls off the foldable table after being shaken, “for the love of god.” your boss yells and stops. scrunching his fat nose and pinching the bridge. “that was the fourth time. i just… you know what, we’ll continue tomorrow morning. kinji you’ve got a meeting we’ve, i’ve, been trying to hold off but it seems like everybody’s in the mood for a break.” he walks to the exit of the lobby, followed by some of his crew. hakari gets up, exhaling and cracking his fingers and wrists. 

“almost as good as your writing. but writers always gotta fuck up while speaking.” he picks up the recorder from the ground and tosses it to the full cups of coffee. 

“are they going to post it?” 

he shakes his head. 

“then what?” 

“might do it all again tomorrow. a little more strict, too. it’s not like it was a bad tape either. just like you know, i can’t let shit spread around about me. i would never allow it.”  

you scoff and watch him walk off, cursing under your breath.

it’s the evening when he comes back, bringing a few drunk men through the guards. you nod your head back and forth between your open laptop and the men that find their wobbly way to the lounge's couches. you tune out their slurred talk and how hakari’s joking gets belly-laughs from them. he cackles with them, clapping his hands bluntly. he sighs, tears in his eyes, as he walks past the random suitcases and desks spread-about. 

you type away at your slightly dull keys, clumsily taking your gel-pen and drabbling a note down. 

“workin’ hard, i see.” you feel a heavy hand land on your left shoulder and glance over to the other side of the desk, hakari’s ringed-fingers tapping away at the steel. 

“what’re you writing down…” he mumbles and leans over obnoxiously. you lean back in your chair, looking at him looking at your notes. 

“god, are you drunk? didn’t you just have a meeting?” 

“drunk? nah, i don’t get drunk.” 

“i can smell the whiskey from your breath.” 

“ah-ha, you knew i drank whiskey, huh. looks like even an overworked girl like you knows how to have fun, too.” he looks at you with literal joy in his pupils. face tampered with blush while smiling like a hyena. “anyway,” he stands back up, the grip on your shoulder falling to your bare-arm. “even your handwriting is nice.” 

“uh-huh…” you press your thighs together, feeling the cold metal of his jewelry on your skin. his hand so big compared to your arm. part of you hopes his long gaze is down your blouse. 

it is.

“ya look good.” he speaks through the rasp in his throat but all you hear is a mutter, he gives your arm a squeeze before patting it and walking toward the corridor of rooms. 

you let out a shaky sigh and feel yourself burn up, staring at your yellow-notepad. hakari strides to his room, the last room of the hallway, stretching his arms. he takes a gold card out and shoves it into the slot. 

he lets out a serene moan when his back hits the bed. tossing his keys, phone, and whatever junk out of his pockets onto the nightstand. his large coat following. he groans and kicks off his shoes. something still bothering him. he reaches his hands down to his belt and unravels it, throwing it down. unbuttoning and zipping to comfort the ache below his stomach.

god, how hard could a guy get from one conversation? his slit brows raise as he grins, taking his weeping cock and holding the base.

thinking about all the things you’d say, 

you’re so vulgar. not enough action recently, huh? what stress’ll do to ya…

“yeah, baby, stress.” he takes his other hand and taps the underside of his cock in his palm. closing his eyes and imagining your sweet self between his legs, those same tits in his view. your pink tongue lolling out for him. “finally shut that smart-ass mouth up… use her for something fuckin’ useful.” he groans, stroking himself. 

what makes him throb is how dumb you’d gotten when his hands were on you. how fucking sweet and quiet you went when his fingers stroked your arm, weren’t you exposing him just a couple of hours ago? what a desperate girl. he swears out as he jerks spurts of come onto his clothed shirt. “yeah, hmph god, yeah, that’s good..” he pants like a dog, eyes going heavy. 

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another day passes and you haven’t come. guilt swats your hand away everytime you try, anyway. you start to get sick of the syrup and eggs roaming the air. you sit at the same spot from last evening and observe the room.

half of your company is eating breakfast or still passed out on the couch. the others, probably asleep or dealing with tech. your boss walks towards you and places a cup of coffee down in front of you. 

“we oughta work on you, huh? hah!” he stirs wood in his own cup. 

“you’re not hungover? i’m surprised you’re up this early.” 

“gotta stay professional, ya know…i only had one shot. maybe a couple. this coffee’s really good, drink some.”

“right because drinks on the second day of a work-trip is highly professional.”

“hey, come on.” he frowns and drinks a sip of his obviously too hot roast. “where is everybody? hell, where’s kinji?” he drifts off to a new group of people near the snackbar. 

the lobby fills again with the occasional technical difficulty, yet no hakari to be found. you wish you could throw it off and be so disconnected that you didn’t even realize the star wasn’t here like some of your colleagues, but you kept your eyes on that same corridor. the loud bitch from the room on the tallest floor went through your ear and out the other. you didn’t even realize the fly that was constantly buzzing had been trying to get your attention. 

“do you know where kinji is?” she was beautiful but still his assistant, loud and fussy like a bad mom. if she didn’t know where he was, how were you supposed to know? you put on a concerned look with a little smile, “might be in his room.” you get up and begin walking to the hallway, how the hell did they not check his fucking room? you swear your eyes roll so far to the back of your head, that if you didn’t have ears to hear the bitch’s loud heels clacking, you could’ve seen her behind you. you turn to the last door on the right and knock, remembering how many men had to carry luggage upon luggage inside. 

“hello? mister, we’re waiting on you.” you knock faster than time. “hakari?” the door swings open and your hand is met with another. before you can say anything, he shushes you and looks around, pulling you into his room and says, “give me a’minute. take a seat.” he leaves. by seat he probably refers to his bed, the entire room cluttered by stuff. you sit on the edge of his bed and sigh, taking a moment to collect what just happened.  

he was shirtless. the bathroom door being open and light on explains why, he’d taken a shower. the mirror was still foggy and the towel hung on the door’s hanger. there was a faint smell of vanilla and something floral. you would’ve been pissed to be in a messy room like this but you figured it was better than being out with everybody else. 

the door opens again and a calm hakari walks in, closing the door and locking it. 

his hair is damp but you only notice how he’s clothed in a towel. one that hangs low at his hips. 

“everybody’s waiting, and you’re not even dressed yet.” 

“s’fine, y/n. i bought us some time. these people, they’ll listen to whatever i say.” he says with a smile, and you look back at him with confusion.

“but the interview…?” your mouth drops gently when his hand comes to hold your face. 

he sighs and looks up and away. your legs are shut and you swallow the sudden pool of saliva in your mouth as your eyes are fixated on his sharp, shaved jawline and how his adam’s apple flexes as he speaks. “this job’s real tough, i know it is, ‘nd you want a break. doesn’t everyone?” he looks back down at you, his eyes filled with what seems to be.. lust? you furrow your eyebrows and nod slowly. he carefully puts some hair behind your ear and leans down to whisper against your skin, “w’na be a good girl and take some of that stress away from the both of us?” he kisses a part of your jaw, “my good girl?” 

oh god. 

did you write half of your career on this greedy man just for him to be licking your ear? leading a hand to your button-up and slowly undoing the pearly clasps? 

his hand now on your bare leg, going up and up your mid-pencil skirt. you feel yourself get dizzy from the thought of him feeling your lacy panties, holding a hand on his strong shoulder, his skin slightly wet. did you wear them on purpose? you can’t think. he stands back up, his hand slithering and rubbing the back of your neck. breathing heavily, you start to undo the rest of your shirt’s buttons. “yeah, there ya go.” he encourages you until your laced bra is exposed. 

he hooks a finger on the side of your panties and tugs them off, you reach under your skirt and tug the other side. he takes both sides and peels away, “mhhm, always liked a matching set.” your skin burns at embarrassment, not from what he said but how wet the middle of your core was and how drenched the crotch of your panties were. 

“a lil’ kissin’ got you this soaked, huh? you want this? ain’t you just sweet, doll.” he throws it to the corner of the bed and hums when you nod. “s’quiet when you’re needy.” hakari pushes two fingers at your lips just when you thought you could finally say something. “open.” he demands gently and grins when you comply. they find their way to the middle of your mouth and you can’t help but suck softly. “mhm that’s good, suck ‘em good. cost about’a milli’ each, heh.” he takes them out and pushes you slowly onto your back, spreading your legs, holding one up with a burly arm. 

“fuck.” is the only thing you manage to let out when he bunches your skirt up to your waist.

“be quiet f’me now.” he spits a glob onto his two fingers and presses them to your clit. you gasp at the content. 

“so wet.” he mumbles.

circling tight, slippery rounds on your aching bud. the guilty friction you’ve been craving finally went through. a sudden warmth and pleasure take over your pelvis. heat rises to your upper body, your hands slightly shaking and your ears burning, god, what were you doing? you watch and feel his dirty mastered hand bring you shame. your entire career faltered just for your fulfillment, the guilt so heavy, it makes you moan out. 

“huuh, mister – shit, i need it.” you speak whispers breathlessly. 

“yeah? you need it, baby?” he brings his focus to your pathetic expression, pushing and curling two fingers into your cunt. you moan out and watch, feel, as his fingers pump in and out of you. his hands are skilled as they break you open little by little. “sweet girl with a needy cunt, must’ve hit the fuckin’ jackpot.” your clit throbbing as you watch him grope himself and ease his own ache through the white towel. 

“c’mon, please sir.” you tap the side of his waist with your heeled foot. 

“patience, girl.” he pulls his fingers out and pats your vulva a few times before pulling your body close to his. his hand finally, finally pulling down the towel. the thing that kept distracting you from nights of sleep now dripping pre just above your heat. he gives himself a couple of strokes, long and heavy as your body begged, driving yourself closer ‘til your ass was almost off the bed. 

“shh shh.” he rubs his wet tip against your folds as you start begging quietly, your slits sloppily kissing. he groans when your cunt flutters, pushing himself into the first tight muscle.

you writhe at the sudden burn, making you mewl ever-so quietly. 

“be a good girl f’me.” he presses a hand on your lower stomach in comfort before moving his hips forward with no intent of stopping until he’s bottomed out. you moan long whines and grind your body down to try and get more, the stretch already burning. “fuck, goddamn it.” the warmth you bring him is unmatched, all he can think about is how hot you feel.

“fuck me – wan’ more.” you clench down and get a moan out of him. his hands hold down onto your plush thighs as he rocks back and forth into you, your folds swallowing him whole everytime. your throat burns at the way you choke out whimpers, drool seeping from the sides of your plump lips. “what’s your company g’na think of you now, hmm? director of the – fuckin’ writing department– their smart girl’s gotta fuck it all up cause she couldn’t resist some cock.” his hips start to fasten and he keeps a tight grip on your legs, your pretty, fucked out, face stays red. “‘s okay, pretty. you ain’t gotta say nothing, jus’ take it like the dumb girl you are and i’ll forget about all the mean little things you said, mhm?” 

“uh-huh.” your head’s spinning from the grinding he’s now doing, the underside of his cock rubbing back and forth and back and forth on the rough spot inside of you. your thighs tremble as you feel yourself getting close. you get louder and hiccup about how good it is.

“ya – yesyesyes please awh fuck,” your hands groping at the back of your neck and the hard nipples of your breast as you arch your back off of the white sheets, “coming – oh god kin’ i’m gonna come, come. thank you thank you…!” the hard waves of heat and fuzziness take up what seems to be your entire body as you cream all over the base of his cock, hakari still pumping himself inside, riding your release out. “god, fuck, baby. stay still.” eagerly, he takes his hard-on out and jerks himself above your mound before coming straight, hot lines of cum onto your stomach. 

he pants, “you wanna talk to me about my morals?”

“jesus fuck. shut the fuck up.” 

[donkey-hyuck]

HBD :: lmk

“how could my day be bad when i’m with you? you’re the only one who gives me love.”

“so how can my day be bad? it’s a day for you.”

currently playing: bad - wave to earth

idol!mark x gn!reader

TW: food (cake) | profanity | unlucky reader (?)

a/n - happy mark day i’m so soft for him🥹

————

to put in in honest words— this august second was one of the worst days of your life. everything at your job had gone wrong and you could feel every crevice that was filled with sweat as you ran around the office trying to make amends. it also didn’t help that it was mark lee’s birthday. of course, you’d much rather make amends on mark’s special day but he wasn’t going to be home until later.

you had actually been arranging such plans a week or so ago when they came back from tour. you know they are still really busy with promoting ‘istj’ but that didn’t stop you from practically begging on your knees in front of their manager. you just wanted this special day to celebrate your special boy.

the plan was to hold him back for two hours as the rest of the dreamies got to leave and pick up some catering, decorations, and the cake you had called for prior. this day was going to be perfect, you gaslit yourself as you found yourself stuck at the desk of your corporate job.

the minute you stepped off work grounds, you immediately texted jaemin and asked if they were on their way to pick up the things as you drove home as quick as you could to clean your shared apartment. the timing though was very unfortunate.

when you got home, you were met with an absolute mess. your cat had seemingly known that you were having a bad day and messed with almost everything in your apartment.

there were broken glasses in the kitchen from cups you had set out to dry before you stored them away, the vase that was sitting on the entryway of your home was now knocked down on the floor, your makeup was scattered and broken everywhere in your bedroom and bathroom, the pillows and blanket sitting on your couch had been slightly torn up, and your cat had decided at every moment to not use his litter box. this day was not getting any better and you definitely felt like crying. why does this have to happen on mark’s special day? you just wanted to do something nice for him to relax a little. but now it was all ruined.

you picked up every fiber of glass in the entryway and kitchen first, making sure no tiny piece was left behind. then you folded the blankets and pillows and placed them in the cupboard in your living room to hide them from your friends. next, you cleaned up the makeup that had found it’s way to the floor and stained the white floors of your bedroom and bathroom. curse these new and modern apartment buildings. and lastly, as you cleaned your cats droppings off the floor, you couldn’t help but to just cry. everything was a mess and you had already been cleaning your house for almost two hours.

and before you had the chance to finally be done cleaning the cat poop off the floor, the doorbell rung indicating the dreamies’ arrival. oh god, you thought.

as you opened the door, the six boys were met with the smell of febreeze and clorox wipes. of course, the had commented about it as well, “why does it smell so clean in here? and not in a good way,” said chenle, placing the snacks on the counter.

before anyone else had the chance to say something, you broke down crying again. you took the gloves off your hand and grabbed a few tissues before wiping away your tears. this made the boys worry about you as they made their ways closer to your body.

“what’s wrong, y/n?” asked jaemin.

you told them the whole shabang and they felt sorry that you had to deal with everything all alone. so instead of you worrying about everything being perfect, the boys made you go to the bathroom to freshen up as they finished cleaning your apartment and set up the food, plates, and decorations for mark’s big surprise.

you honestly didn’t trust their cleaning skills but they ushered you to get in the shower to help you relax a bit. but there was still a bit of anxiety in you even after you got out.

“there’s just one problem, y/n,” said jisung, scratching the back of his neck. “they kinda spelled mark’s name wrong. they put m-o-r-k.” he emphasized the ‘o.’

you let out a frustrated sigh and wiped your face with your hand. you wanted this day to be over already. you could spend it with mark on another day, right?

“it’s fine, jisung. clearly people don’t know how to do their jobs correctly and listen,” you sighed, “but it’s the least of my worries right now. i just want the rest of the night to go by peacefully and happily.”

——

when their manager let the boys leave the studio early (except mark) he was confused and frustrated all at once. it was his birthday. how could his manager do that to him? but he was obedient and went to the meeting. which was pointless, by the way. mark knew it, but he didn’t know it was to just pass the time as his lover and his friends got together to surprise him for his big day.

he’s turning twenty-four. it still shocks him to think that.

when he finally got to go home, he texted you that he was on his way back and just wanted to spend the rest of the night with you. when he reached his home, he noticed the light in the apartment were off except for maybe the tv or some blue l.e.d. lights and thought nothing of it.

but when he hung his keys on the key holder in the entryway, and took off his shoes, he noticed some of his members shoes messily placed on the ground.

when he entered through the door the first thing he says is, “babe? are the boys here?”

the only answer he got was “surprise” by yourself and the boys in question.

you could see his eyes light up as your friends popped out from their hiding spots with glow sticks in hand and confetti poppers now on the floor.

the smile on his face is one you’d remember forever. he’s looking at the people he loved the most and spending his birthday with the people he loved the most. the boys were all blocking you from him as mark pushed pass them to finally lock his eyes on you.

“happy birthday.” your response from him was a hug. the tightest hug he could have possibly ever given to you. he hides his face in your neck and whispers millions of “thank you’s” and “i love you’s.”

——

the party is spent well. and you almost forget about the first half of the day where everything and everyone was getting on your last nerve. that was until he whisked you away from the main party and locked you in the bathroom with him and he asked how your day was.

“honestly, it was absolutely fucking terrible. nothing was going according to plan. my work fucked me up, the car fucked me up, even the cake is fucked up. but i’m better now. thanks to you. and the boys. they all came to my savior when i was on my last straw…. i couldn’t wait to see you,” you mumbled in his chest as he swayed you back and forth.

“it’s better now, though. now that i’m with you,” you lifted your head as he boyishly giggles and kisses you like his life depended on it.

“what about you? you haven’t told me yet,” you smiled, playing with his hair at the nape of his neck.

“mine is better too, now. when they left earlier i was so pissed you have absolutely no idea. and they made me sit through a meeting alone. for two hours,” he whined and scrunched his eyes just thinking about it.

“but you’re here with me and i’m ending my birthday with the best people in my life.” he held you against his chest once more, swaying you again.

“yeah… my day can’t be bad anymore, it’s a day for you. happy birthday my love.” you leaned up and placed the gentlest kiss against his jaw and rested your head on his chest again.

this was perfect.

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 1 / 31 * MOUNTAIN DEW HAT MAN 」

November 12, 1955

“No, I can’t stay. I told Ronnie I’d be home after work to give him the news about whether or not Marty really existed or this was the longest-running prank in history. He’s been just as interested as we were ever since I brought it up.” Walter chuckles, scrawling his signature on the day’s log. “He’ll be happy to know he was right. Kept trying to convince me that he’d be there—you’ll see, Dad. Even had a little bet of our own going—”

“And you lost that one too.” Kenneth barks out a deep, rumbling laugh that very nearly shakes the foundations of the building.

“I still can’t believe it. How the hell could a seventy-year-old letter know the exact time, date, and location that some kid named Marty McFly would be standing there?”

“Beats me.” Kenneth smirks, mischief glimmering in his deep blue eyes, and Walter rolls his eyes, knowing exactly the turn the conversation is about to take. “Maybe he’s an alien. Or a time-traveller on a secret mission and this kid’s his partner.”

Time-traveller. Those two words wind themselves around every nerve and muscle, rooting themselves so deeply into his mind Walter isn’t sure he’ll ever get them out of his head.

It’s crazy talk. Just like everything that Marty kid said.

Kenneth quirks a brow when the normally quick retort is nowhere to be found.

“—Yeah, right. And I’m a mind-reader.” Walter stands, retrieving his still-damp hat and coat from the coatrack by the door. “You’re watching too much Science Fiction Theatre.”

“I don’t see you offering any better explanations. And we know from that state of that old thing and the letterhead of the instruction letter that this wasn’t a joke. Or if it was, it’s a damn good forgery. Think about it. You said the kid started talking crazy after you gave him the letter, didn’t you?” Kenneth’s voice deepens, holding an air of secrecy and conspiracy meant for their ears only. He steeples his fingers, both elbows now propped up on the desk as his thick brows pull together in intense concentration.

“He’s a teenager. They’re all talking crazy. Even Ronnie, sometimes.”

There’s a look on Kenneth’s face that says he doesn’t agree, but if he has any further thoughts on the matter, he keeps them to himself, offering little more than a shrug and a drawn-out sigh. “Suit yourself. Go on, get out of here. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. The whole office is going to be waiting to hear about this, you know. Tell Ronnie I said hi.”

“I will. By the way, you think you can try and find the name of whoever it was that left that letter here? The box said it came all the way from corporate; someone’s name is attached to it. There must be a record somewhere.”

 “You want me to dig through seventy years’ worth of records to find something that might not even exist?”

“If anyone can—”

Kenneth rolls his eyes, resignation flickering across his face and sagging his shoulders. “God damn—fine. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Thanks.” Kenneth mumbles something that Walter doesn’t catch as he puts his hat on and steps outside to his car, letting the night’s strange meeting play out on repeat in his mind for the twenty-minute drive home.

The living room lights are still switched on and the moment Walter opens the front door, Ronnie all but leaps up off the couch, nearly losing his glasses in the process. “So? Was he really there?” Walter chuckles at his son’s enthusiasm, having expected exactly this moment he stepped through those doors. Ronnie had been almost more excited about it than the boys in the office, eagerly anticipating the night of 12 November with the same fervour as he would his birthday.

“C’mon, Dad,” Ronnie demands to his father’s back as he removes and hangs up his coat for what, hopefully, is the final time tonight. “Did that Marty guy show up?” Did I win the bet?

“He did,” Walter finally answers, dropping down into the armchair with a groan. Ronnie’s eyes widen and before he can get even a single one of the multitude of questions untangled from the knot they’ve twisted themselves into on his tongue out, his father continues, seemingly having plucked the questions right out of his mind.

“Exactly like the instruction letter said he would. Right time, right description, right place—everything.” Kenneth’s words rattle around Walter’s mind again as Ronnie beams, shouting triumphantly to the tune of I told you! I knew it!

“What’d it say? You saw it, right? You gotta tell me everything.”

 —

May 21, 1986

That's him again, Ronald muses at the increasingly familiar sound of the thud of what three prior incidents already have taught him is hands grabbing onto the back of his Jeep.

Ronald glances over his shoulder and just like the last several times, the kid nods his acknowledgement and appreciation for the ride yet never says a word. This is becoming a pattern now, always on weekdays if his memory serves him correctly, and if nothing else, he should at least know the name of the kid he’s been ferrying around throughout the town.

“You ever think about getting a car of your own? They’ve got some cheap ones I’m sure even a student can afford.” Young kid, backpack slung over his shoulders—must be a high school student. He blinks, pulling the headphones off his ears. “You keep this up I’m going to start charging you for the ride.”

The kid throws him a winning smile. “Nah, I’ve got a car.” Ronald scrunches his brows together, wondering just what the hell the kid is doing grabbing onto the backs of cars and doing something so dangerous when he’s got a car of his own to get him around. If it were broken, maybe in the shop—

But this isn’t the first time.

“Did you ever—?” He eases into a left turn and behind him, the kid leans into it, unfazed. Ronald quirks a brow, waiting for him to finish whatever question he’d started, but he never does, continuing on as if the question had never been a thought in his mind. “Driving’s great, but sometimes I just—it’s not the same as putting on headphones and feeling the wind on my face as I’m skateboarding, you know? Helps me think.”

The kid almost looks surprised when he answers, “Yeah, I think I do,” and Ronald smiles at that.

“Oh—we’re almost at my stop. Hey, thanks. For, uh, not trying to shake me off or call the cops or something.”

He slows the car down as the driver ahead of him attempts to turn off onto a side street. “Before you go—what’s your name, kid?”

He hits the car twice with his hand before kicking off, shouting “It’s Marty! Marty McFly!”

[knizai]

I saw an event from you and decided to write you a request.

I honestly don't know where to start. But I want to say that my name will be "Freya", because I feel a little uneasy when I see my real name and and in general to see myself as an mc in story.

In short, can I ask you to make a mini-fanfic with Fukuzawa, because I really miss him in my life(((

Freya and Fukuzawa have been friends since they were 13 y.o. (+there was also Fukuchi, but that's not important). And, obviously, they have experienced a lot together and seen each other through all their begginings. (btw, they are that one duo where one is energetic, sarcastic and clingy, and the other is sullen and quiet)

The events unfold on Fukuzawa's birthday, in which the Agency decided to throw a corporate party in honor of their director. And everything was going well until Fukuzawa decided to leave the office for a while and go to his own office to do his own business and so on. This is how he ran into Freya, who had just entered the agency building and wanted to give him a gift.

Surprisingly for Fukuzawa, Freya was quite quiet considering her annoying 24/7 personality. They're having a normal conversation. Freya gives him a gift and gives him the typical congratulations until she talks about their paths in life and tells Fukuzawa that she's glad that he was able to change his life for the better. And then she kisses him on the cheek (and then there's a lipstick mark left).

Then you can think of and add more to suit your own taste and color.

Their trope shortly is "friends to lovers." But in reality, they're friends "with benefits" who are on the verge of lovers, but they're like brakes.

P.s I AM VERY ASHAMED OF THIS REQUEST, SO YOU CAN FEEL FREE TO NOT ACCEPT IT

Roses 'n' kisses DIS IS SOOO KYUTE!!! I am so honored to write this for you omgieee! There is no need to be embarrassed ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ I love how detailed this is ! It's amazing! I hope this lives up to your standards! Also congrats on being my first-ever request ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

Fukuzawa walked the halls of his agency building, the sound of his footsteps echoed through the halls while people walked back and forth through the door. It was rare for him to get some time alone. The sound of chatting and giggling echoed throughout the halls from the office he had left minutes ago. Soon, he reached his office door, opened it, and entered the room. There, he saw a figure and stopped to stare, not expecting anyone to be there. He soon recognized the person as his longtime friend, Freya, with her lips pursed into a small smile. But Freya was silent, this was unusual as she was normally a very loud and eccentric self. It took a moment for him to notice how different she was, her usual lively and talkative nature nowhere to be seen, her eyes fixed on him. Fukuzawa paused for a second, his thoughts racing through his mind about why she was being unusually silent. "Freya, what brings you here?" She gave a gentle smile while clutching a gift, but her expression still seemed different. For a brief moment, her eyes seemed almost sad, yet she spoke with a gentle voice. "Can we chat?" Fukuzawa stared for a moment as he walked to his desk and sat down. "Of course, we can.." he replied calmly, even if he felt a little unnerved by her sudden change in demeanor. He was used to her energetic, chaotic nature, and her silence worried him. She walked closer, sitting down in the chair across from him, placing the gift on his desk. She took a breath before looking at him again, her eyes conveying emotions of sadness, even if she did her best to mask it. Fukuzawa stared, noticing her sadness even if she tried to hide it. He stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her, and waited for her to speak, staring at the gift she placed on the desk, guessing it was for his birthday that everyone was partying about downstairs. She sighed again and looked down, her hands clenched in her lap as if to stop herself from fidgeting too much. Her lips trembled for a moment before speaking again. "We've been friends for a long time, right?" Fukuzawa paused, the sudden question catching him slightly off guard. He was concerned for her, considering her unusual behavior, but he replied, "Yes.. we have. We've known each other since we were teens. Why do you ask?" She hesitated for a second, almost as if she couldn't find the words for it, but looked up to meet his gaze. "I… wanted to say that I'm proud of you for how you've changed.." Her voice was barely a whisper almost, but her eyes conveyed sincerity as she spoke. His expression of worry slightly eased, her words touching his heart deeply, the sincerity in her eyes comforting him. He nodded and gave a gentle smile. "Thank you.." he replied softly. Her expression still conveyed a sense of sadness as her body tensed. She looked away for a moment before looking back at him, her words soft and vulnerable "Fukuzawa…I wish something more happened between us, you know?"Fukuzawa's expression shifted to a mix of surprise and something else he didn't quite understand. His gaze lingered on her, her sudden vulnerability affecting him. He couldn't deny the years of friendship between them, the bond they had grown. He leaned forward a little, the silence hanging in the air before he replied. "Freya…I've thought about it too.." She suddenly leaned in, and gently but nervously, kissed him on the cheek before pulling away. The light pressure and the feeling of her soft lips on his cheek lingered, the faint red mark left behind by her lipstick a reminder of the brief, unexpected gesture. Fukuzawa froze for a moment, taken aback by the sudden kiss as the air around them grew a little tense. The lipstick mark still remained on his cheek, a small reminder of her emotions. He reached his hand up to touch the mark, his gaze locking on hers. The room was silent, neither of them speaking, the weight of the kiss on the cheek lingered in the air. Freya broke the silence, her voice hushed. "I… I feel really strongly about you.." her expression still conveyed her hesitation. Fukuzawa slowly processed her words, feeling.

[catherineav]

it looks like the hopper byers may be using the radio tower as their house so writing prompt: the first time they arrive there, kids having little fights to choose rooms, joyce and hop trying to make it cozy and homely for them, etc

OOPS because I'm me, this turned out slightly angsty, but no fear, it has a light ending. :) i hope this is somewhat what you had in mind!

They don’t have much. 

They took only the necessities back with them from California—the car, their clothes, a few family photo albums. It all amounts to a couple of duffle bags for each of them, which they immediately drop on the floor upon stepping into the abandoned radio station. 

Hopper has even less. His old clothes don’t fit for the most part, so his belongings consist mostly of some hoodies and t-shirts, plus the tokens from the cardboard boxes—Dad, Vietnam, Sara—he’d methodically repacked into his bags. 

Without a word of approval or complaint, Jonathan heads straight for the back of the old building. The room must once have been the producer’s office, judging by the framed records visible through the half-open doorway. 

El glances back at her parents, unsure, so Joyce offers her a nod and a tight smile. It’s not much, but it must be enough, because El steps forward to explore, dragging Will along behind her. 

“She’s never gotten to choose a room before,” Joyce realizes softly. Jim doesn’t answer, just shuts and bolts the entrance behind them before guiding her forward with a hand at the small of her back. She feels compelled to explain. “Owens already had the house staged when we got to California. Her room was so girly.”

That draws a smile from Jim, at least. 

But despite the soft murmurs from her two youngest—sharp and quick, are they really bickering over who gets which bedroom?—the whole place is too large and spacious and quiet for Joyce. So she keeps talking.

“He kept announcing what he would do for us, the house, the school, the documents, as if any of it could make up for what—what we lost. I thought he’d never shut up. ‘I’m impressed with myself, it wasn’t easy to get Jane in school, you know.’ The number of times I heard that line…The only reason I didn’t destroy our phone was because I needed it for the encyclopedias.” She shakes her head, pausing with her fingers on the tabletop of what was once a reception desk. It will make a decent kitchen table, if they can dig up a couple more chairs of the correct height. “And then to come through with the bare minimum to get us back from Alaska, it took days—”

“Joyce, I was there. Don’t exactly need ya to recount that one.”

She spins around, mortified, but he’s smiling. 

She releases the extra breath she’s been storing to fuel her rambling, instead slumping forward with her forearms on the table. “Sorry. I talk too much when I’m stressed.”

“Why are you stressed?” He mirrors her stance, facing her across the table.  

She laughs, she can’t help it. What a ridiculous question. But then…

She looks around, really looks around, for the first time.

Bob would have loved this place. The sad thought comes to her unbidden, but it's bittersweet. Her stomach doesn't roll with nausea like it might once have.

The station is gray and cold. Corporate, almost. But there are signs of life, too. An empty coffee mug, a calendar still turned to the previous month. Strangers lived and breathed here, but this family never has.

Her eyes meet Jim’s. “I’m homesick,” she whispers.

“Hmm.” He considers this, his gaze tracing a similar path. He smiles again. “We can make this home, I think.”

She stands straighter, a smile tugging at her own lips. “Yeah?”

He shrugs. “Sure. We’re all here, you and me and El and the boys, together, for starters. And it won’t be two days before we’re outnumbered by the rest of those teenagers four to one. We won’t be able to hear ourselves think until we bust out the pizza and eat it on the rug in front of the record player.”

It’s a pretty picture, if an outrageous one. “Okay,” she whispers. She believes him. 

With a kiss to her cheek, he steps past her, rummaging under the counter. He emerges with his arms full of dark fabric and dumps some into her arms. “And we’ll start with the blackout curtains.”

She holds back a groan, only because he calls in the kids to help and she’s pretty sure she can get away with minimal effort dumped into this project, if only because she’s short. But of course it isn't until the two of them are well into working on the first window together, the kids stomping in from the hallway, that Jim asks, “Why was it so difficult to enroll El in school? She should have had my money, the birth certificate…”

She can tell by his pinched frown that this has been bothering him. But she can also see that even as El and Will unroll one of the curtains in the corner, El is tuned in and listening. 

Joyce had only agreed to Owens's suggestion so El could enroll in a school with her brothers, attend parent-teacher conferences with her mother. Even still, she could never stand here and say the words Owens had to marry us with a straight face.

So she clears her throat and pushes herself onto her toes to secure the curtain. “It’s a long story. For another time.”

One day, she knows—perhaps gathered together eating pizza out of the box in front of the record player—she’ll tell it and smile. 

[wonderhoy-dump]

a shousuke otori oneshot that no one asked for

It’s dark in the office but Shousuke Otori can’t be bothered to turn on the light. 

The report he’s looking for should not be this difficult to find. He’s rifling through his filing cabinets using his phone light, increasingly annoyed by how his neatly tucked away files could be such an organizational crapshoot when he actually needs to pull something. 

Why are we still printing everything out instead of just using the cloud???

He yanks out a whole stack of folders and throws them on his desk. 

Garbage. Garbage. Old memos. Garbage. 

A whole mess of Phenniland promotional brochures are mixed in with the old financial reports for some reason.

God that’s annoying. 

He moves to throw the whole pile away when a heavier cardstock falls out from the stack. It’s not a brochure, he realizes as he picks it up by the taped up edges. 

It’s a…thank you card? His youngest sister’s familiar gel pen doodles glitter on the front of the tropical-themed art. 

Emu and her troupe friends surprised him with this after their yacht trip turned shipwreck, he remembers. That was over a year ago. He’s not sure if he even opened it at the time, he was so busy wondering how the hell they got into his office before he did. 

(The purple one probably had something to do with it.) 

He throws it in his laptop bag to take home with him. 

I gotta clear out all the trivial crap in this office. 

He finds his missing financial report in the remaining pile and also stuffs it in the bag. He locks up his office, the 'PXL Deputy Director' plaque glinting off the door. 

The hallways of the Otori Corporate building are dark minus the emergency lighting strips along the walls. They used to keep the motion-activated lights on at all hours but now they all shut off firmly after 9 p.m. Some sort of green initiative from the CEO and corporate Governing Board. He’s not a fan. 

The darkness does make it easy to see another light at the end of the hallway though. 

Shousuke knocks on the open door of the Director’s office. 

Keisuke Otori looks up from the binder of papers he was highlighting by hand. 

(Oh right. He’s the reason they still print everything out.) 

The Director nods when his brother tells him the custodial staff will be here soon to close up. Grabbing his own items, Keisuke turns off his lamplight. 

———

It’s a long elevator ride down from the second highest floor of the Otori Corporate building. 

“How did the dinner go with Mr. Yung?”

“Fine enough,” Shousuke sighs. “He questioned the quarterly returns on the last renovated rides so I came back to get last year’s reports to draw the comparisons.” 

“You’ll be working late then.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I was reviewing some supplementary proposals. But I don’t plan on working more at home—In fact, it’s best if I rest early.”

Keisuke pauses.

“My first meeting with Miss Yue is tomorrow.”

Oh. Right. 

That’s happening. 

It’s not like. A big deal. Not compared to any other corporate operation at least. That’s what Keisuke had said to him the first time it came up. 

His brother is at the age where men like them get married and Miss Yue is the daughter and COO of a major media conglomerate. Taiwanese, so international.

It’s a match up that makes sense. Especially for people like them who don’t lead sociable lives and never have. (Never will.) 

They haven’t really talked about it since. 

Keisuke claims he has nothing to say. Shousuke has tried to come up with anything to say.

But all he can think about, whenever he gets a chance to mention it, are their own parents: sitting quietly at opposite ends of the dining room table, their four children in between them, not looking at each other and only speaking to anyone with the most surface level inquiries.

That family dinner was three years ago. He’s not sure they’ve even been in the same building together since. 

It’s not really an inspiring topic of conversation. 

Shousuke looks at his older brother in the reflection of the mirrored elevator walls.

I wish I knew the right thing to say to you but I don’t.

“Do you have an appointment to get your roots done before your meeting?” 

Instinctively, Keisuke touches his jet black hair. 

“Are my grays showing already?” 

Shousuke shrugs tiredly. “Maybe it’s better she sees them upfront. A 32-year-old man already stressed into a head full of gray hair: it really lets her know what she’s getting into.”

Keisuke chuckles which may as well be uproarious laughter coming from him. Shousuke cracks a smile too.  

Not many people can read the feelings of the oldest Otori sibling. Not many people can recognize that he has them, actually. 

But when Shousuke casts a glance at Keisuke—the actual Keisuke, not the reflection—he can see the tightness in his jaw and the dullness in his purple eyes and know exactly what it all means. 

It’s too bad he’s not someone who can do anything useful with that information. He’s merely someone who stands by his older brother's side. Always by his side.

———

A foam ball hits Shousuke between the eyes the second he walks in the front door. 

“Geez Tsukasa! Watch where you’re pointing that thing!” Kamishiro shouts while blatantly shoving the foam ball gun into the other boy’s hands. 

“What were you even aiming for?” says Kusanagi from behind the couch. 

“I DIDN'T SHOOT THAT!” Tenma yells, as easily riled up as ever. 

Keisuke walks in behind him.  “Ah, Wonderland x Showtime. Nice to see you all here tonight.”

It's Emu’s bimonthly slumber party weekend. How could Shousuke forget? That explains why all the lights are on and their typically quiet house is a cacophonous mess of colorful blankets and stuffed animals. 

Shousuke takes a deep breath, the troupe’s loud voices triggering that tired ache behind his ears.

“Why are you all in the living room?” he asks before he can help it. “Don’t you usually set up in Emu’s room?”

Summoned by her name, his youngest, though still high-school-aged sister pops out from the pile of pillows. 

“We were doing crafts in the kitchen and then we wanted to play fort defender!—but we can move to my room if you and Keisuke need space to talk!” 

“It’s okay, Emu,” Keisuke responds. “We were just going to our rooms. You four enjoy yourselves.” 

“Oh! If you’re not busy with work, do you want dessert!? I can show you the cupcakes we decorated for you!” 

Shousuke isn’t in the mood for sweets but Keisuke agrees and Emu is pulling them into the kitchen before he can protest. (He still does protest though.) Before Emu leaves, she designates Kusanagi with defending their fort and Shousuke can hear the boys screaming behind them from her foam slaughter. 

Hinata is in the kitchen when they enter. She had come down for a glass of water to take a break from her studying, and she greets them in that same tender way she always speaks.

She helps Emu bring out the platter of cupcakes she and her friends decorated. They’re slathered in their troupe colors, PXL references, a Kigurumi face, and several with vocaloid themed cookie toppers. The four of them must have decorated over three dozen cupcakes.

Emu hums happily in her phenny-patterned PJs, bouncing on her toes to grab plates and making her pink pigtails bounce with her.

Emu presents Keisuke a vanilla cupcake with fruit slices nicely arranged in a succulent shape on top. She gives Hinata a pink cupcake with a rose-shaped cookie topper. And finally, she hands Shousuke a chocolate cupcake with a round green cookie topper. 

Shousuke looks at it warily. 

“What is this?”

“It’s a cactus!”

“Why is it smiling?”

“So you know it’s safe to eat!”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe to eat?” 

“Because of the spikes!” Emu explains, as if the sugar sprinkles adorning the green cookie surface could possibly be mistaken for real needles. “Tsukasa found this guide online about making plant-looking cupcakes so we tried making a batch of those but with our own twist!” 

“They turned out nicely,” Keisuke says. 

“Very cute!” Hinata encourages. 

Shousuke turns the happy cactus around in his hand. “Yeah. Sure. It works.” 

They thank Emu for the desserts. Hinata and Keisuke decide to eat theirs in the kitchen before going to bed but Shousuke would prefer to go to his room. He has a long night ahead. 

“Do you want an extra cupcake for extra nighttime zoom energy?” 

“No, I’m fine. I just have to update and retime a presentation for tomorrow morning.”

“Ooo a presentation? What’s it about??” Emu asks with eagerness. 

“Nothing exciting. I’m meeting with our investors about funding for the next round of ride renovations.” 

“Is it for the fishy boats and the carousel?”

That surprises Shousuke because he doesn’t think he’s mentioned this to Emu before.

“Um. Yes?”  

“Yay yay! Those are the last ones still on the old system maintenance! The less shutdown time they need, the more super sunny-fun for all the little ones, and lots of adults can have a chance to refresh the memories they grew from riding them when they were young too!” Emu chirps. “I’m so excited!” 

Despite her very Emu-way of saying it, her analysis is disturbingly accurate. 

(Shousuke’s not sure why it’s disturbing. It just. Is.)

“…Right. Well. First we need the money,” he ends up saying. 

“I’m sure the investors will agree!” Emu beams at him again. “Do you need any help with your presentation?”

“Uh no. I think it will be fine. It’s not really something I expect you to help with, Emu.” 

Shouldn’t you be getting back to your friends? 

Their youngest casts her eyes down for a second. It’s a familiar look that strikes Shousuke, to his chagrin. 

(Has she looked like this before? (He knows she has. (He’s tried to forget.))) 

But then she looks back up at him with renewed vigor and he’s even more caught off guard. 

“I know I don’t know the big cha-ching cha-ching numbers or anything, but I still want to help you, Shousuke! Maybe me and my troupe can watch you practice your slides?” 

“Watch me…practice my slides?”

Emu nods eagerly. “We’ll be staying up late anyways!” 

Shousuke glances at his other siblings who are busy slicing up their cupcakes with Hinata complimenting the cream filling inside. Keisuke spares him a look and an eyebrow raise. 

‘It’s your presentation,’ he seems to say. 

Shousuke’s not sure if it’s the long day or the bright lights or whatever but—

“Fine, Emu. If you and your friends want to spend part of your party listening to me present on ROI and the margins of our core competencies, then sure. You can listen to me do my run-through later.”

“Yay yay!” she chirps at a surprisingly reasonable volume. “I can pencil you in between plushie party tea time and the DOOM Eternal tournament, so be ready by midnight, okay? Yahohoy!” 

“Fine but if you all fall asleep during this, don’t blame m—” 

Shousuke grunts as Emu tackle-hugs him. 

Every. Damn. Time. 

She giggles as he shoves her little pink head off of him and she darts away back into the living room. 

He turns to see Hinata and Keisuke looking at him. 

“What?” he snaps. 

“Nothing.” Hinata smiles. “Don’t forget your cupcake.” 

Shousuke grabs the thing and goes. 

———

The living room is viewable from the railing of the second floor and Shousuke finds himself looking down at the brightly lit sleepover below.

It seems like the fort defender game has turned into a ‘smack each other as hard as you can with couch cushions’ game—of which Emu is winning very handily. 

He watches as Emu leaps from surface to surface, chasing down a screaming Tenma. She shrieks when Kamishiro biffs her over the head with a pillow only for her to clear him over the table with one swing the very next second. (Not to be a petty man, but Shousuke finds that mildly satisfying.) Kusanagi is laughing at all this until Emu barrels into her with unapologetic glee and all four of them end up in a pajama’d pile on the floor, sending their laughter echoing against the high ceilings. 

That looks…

…dangerous 

…painful

…chaotic 

…

…like they’re having a good time. 

Shousuke doesn’t “get” Emu. He never has. Surprise surprise. 

His tiny shock of a baby sister, always so loud and smiley against all reason. She’s the one who was raised by their oddball grandpa instead of their austere father; the one with her head in the clouds and no one to pull her down; the one who treasures her namesake like a destiny and a promise; the one who grew up under such nonexistent expectations that she rises to them by merely seeking any; and the one who was given zero responsibilities all her life yet still devotes herself to Wonder Stage and PXL and her family all the same. 

After all these years, Shousuke still finds his youngest sister incomprehensible in many ways. But more and more, he’s willing to admit, in the solitude of a darkened hallway, that he would like to understand. 

——

Shousuke turns on the lamp at his home office desk. 

He pulls out the report and his laptop, but before he can begin, something else slides out of his case onto the desk: that thank you card from WxS. 

The exterior looks even more colorful under the lamplight, and Shousuke thinks now is as good a time as any to finally read it. He slits open the paper stickers holding it closed, and the card pops open on its own. 

“THANK YOU FOR A WONDERHOY TIME!!!” jumps out at him in pop up letters. Emu’s art style again adorns the surface of the card, a drawing of the five of them on the island sitting by the bonfire. All four members of the troupe signed it. 

Shousuke smiles. 

It’s nice. 

He places it next to the cupcake with a bite taken out of the cactus head—the only nonfunctional items on his desk—and he gets back to work. 

[battleangel]

Why Do We Wear Hospital Gowns?

For the exact same reason that soldiers are required to wear uniforms in basic training, upon graduating boot camp and when deployed, why Catholic, prepatory and charter schools demand their studenrs wear uniforms, why all prisoners wear the same prison jumpsuit and why corporate America demands that employees "dress professionally".

To dehumanize, to control, to break, to debase, to unnerve, to enervate, to denigrate, to drain, to exhaust, to fatigue, to numb, to deindividualize, to commodify, to homogenize...

Hospitals, K-12 indoctrination centers aka schools, corporate America and prisons all have the following in common:

🧟‍♂️Bland identical drab uniforms/gowns/prison jumpsuits/"business professional"/"business casual"/"dress to impress" designed to dehumanize and strip away all aspects of the individuals personality (Catholic, prep & charter schools).

🧟‍♀️Constant, overly bright fluorescent lights proven to deplete melatonin levels, disrupt our natural circadian rhythyms and cause insomnia and sleep disorders.

🧟‍♂️Blind unquestioning adherence to authority figures. Dissent is suppressed and when it occurs is harshly punished.

🧟‍♀️Forced cheer, spirit days, volunteer days, holidays with visitors and movies shown, pep rallies, bake sales, celebrity visitors to distract, pizza parties, team lunches, annual holiday parties all to obfuscate and distract from how objectively depressing and unnerving these environments are and to keep the inmates from complaining too loudly.

🧟‍♀️Overly matrixed organizational hierachy, execessive bureacracy and red tape so that things are endlessly and hopelessly siloed, creativity and innovation are stifled.

🧟‍♂️Authority figures with god complexes that are overly disciplinarian in nature and are afforded the "Father Knows Best benevolent Santa Claus" benefit of the doubt for no objective reason simply because we put our trust in teachers, principals, coaches and doctors; we fear the prison guards and wardens but we also fear our coaches, school disciplinarian, vice principal, principles, supervisors, +1s, VPs, Officers, ExCo, SLT & CEO and we fear our doctors as well as they are presented as holders of the magical talisman to whether we live or die.

🧟‍♀️At all times, you are an empty vessel to be poured into by your teachers, school counselors, coaches, band directors, school disciplinarian, principals, doctors and prison guards and wardens -- they are there, at least this is the lie, to guide, instruct, teach, coach, mentor, advise, build up, influence, grow, improve, better, transform, correct, discipline, build resiliency grit courage perservarance, give hope, educate, elucidate -- they are there to simply blindly control you.

🧟‍♂️Every room looks identically exactly maddeningly the same -- every cubicles exactly the same and every cubicle row, every classroom and every deck, every locker, every hospital room and every jail cell -- same room dimensions, same size, same prison bars, same sparse mattress, same thin pillow, same desks, same cucible partitions, same cucible walls, same windows, same hospital beds, same curtains, same color walls, same gray carpeting -- as far as the eye can see, everything is identical, same, a carbon copy, endlessly repeating. Its literally designed to be maddening.

🧟‍♀️Schedules are dictated -- recess, breaks, prison yard, lunch, 15 minute breaks, cafeterias, rush hour, 9 am start time, 5 pm finish time, coffee break, water cooler conversation, lunch trays, carton of milk, apple juice box, gym, school bell, PA sytem -- you arent allowed to get food for an hour at 10 am, or leave three hours early even if you've finished all your work, you cant work in your car all day in the work parking lot, you cant come in at 1 pm and work until 9 pm, you cant spend your lunch hour sitting by your locker silently reading, you cant spend the pep rally alone in the library quietly reading a book, you cant spend your lunch hour in a locked bathroom stall reading your manga, you cant spend the pep rally in your car in the school parking lot reading a comic book, you cant take a 3.5 hour lunch and then make the time up the next day by working an extra 3.5 hours -- at all times, your time is completely controlled by the school/company/hospital/prison yet the mandated schedules and breaks are completely contrived and are not determined to maximize efficiency, it is only meant to totally control you, strip away your individuality, dehumanize you, dim your aura, psychically attack your psyche aura and energy and ensure you never come anywhere close to experiencing your ego death, self-actualizing, self-awakening, ascending and discovering your true self and truly opening your eyes for the first time by opening your third eye.

🧟‍♂️Unreasonable schedules, unrealistic demands to tax you as a person, overwhelm you, depress you, shut you down, unnerve you, drain you, exhaust you, numb you, suppress you, repress you, trigger obsessive/compulsive/neurotic/self sabotaging/harmful/mindless addictions and behaviors to keep you firmly ensconced in their pharmaceutical, psychiatric, oncological (cancer), opiod/"pain management", fast food, fast fashion, big box retail, retail, agricultural, entertainment, gaming, movie, music, television, sports, beverages (soda/juice/coffee/alcohol), tobacco & vaping, sugar, waste management, wheat, consumer electronics, cosmetics, household products, self care industrial complexes.

🧟‍♀️See these systems (hospitals, K-12 schools, corporate America & prisons) for the capitalist structures they are. Capitalism cannot be held up without these four systems underpinning and propping it up.

🧟‍♂️All four systems endlessly feed, create and reinforce the fear of death as they all massively profit from it. Realize that death is a beautiful transformation and while the transition and process of death itself may be challenging, there is even beauty that can be found in that, as you are still transforming while dying in death, from your temporary physical human form which you are shedding like a caterpillar to spread your beautiful butterfly wings and fly as the limitiless eternal energetic being you were prior to temporarily manifesting physically as a human in your "life" in "reality", our current world and universe. You originated from the dreamscape and you are an eternal being that came to our current reality to just learn and remember who you are and that you are a limitless energetic being with a boundless imagination -- which is all the dreamscape is. Its your mind and your imagination so its anything and everything. "Reality" is just a virtual simulation of the dreamscape. So, there is no need to fear death or dying or the "after life", there is no need for endless and often times extremely invasive, harmful, painful, dangerous and traumatizing execessive "medical" interventions like radiation, chemotherapy, hormone treatment, extremely invasive and damaging surgeries leaving you permanently scarred and bruised with phantom pains sometimes never returning to your pre-surgical state, harsh drugs that can shut down and/or suppress your immune system, give you cancer, blood disorders, damage your internal organs and cause organ failure, cause structural muscoloskeltal damage weakening and damaging bones causing serious falls, osteoporosis, lower bone density, broken bones, fatal falls and much much more -- for what when you're going to fucking die anyway? Just live your life every moment to the fullest, live hostically, be in nature, move and express yourself creatively every day, eat fresh vegetables and fruit drink apple cider vinegar and water eat mixed nuts and granola bars eat oatmeal 80% of the time take a break and eat whatever on the weekends just doing this will resolve 90%+ of physical and mental DIS-eases and for anything else you have to die of something see a doctor use discernment use your ancestral Akashic wisdom if the intervention is sensible try it if it is invasive harmful damaging toxic and potentially fatal (most of them) then dont do it have some cbd gummies have some weed brownies light some candles and incense have some edibles have some psychedlics like ayuhasca DMT spend time outside in nature meditate listen to sound bath healing listen to mhz audio stretch do yoga do breathwork create stuff move dance draw paint blow bubbles hula hoop pole dance do headstands and handstands and just enjoy it while it lasts like a rollercoaster cause thats all this very temporary life is...

[manikax]

TASK 001: HOME

✳  🎀  𝑀𝒶𝒿𝒶'𝓈 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉  🎀  ✳

Maja Lim has resided in the same Seoul apartment for over two decades. In direct contrast to the univocally beautiful Lim, the exterior of the complex is unremarkable in almost every way. The innocuous tan building, built in the 1990s and located in the lively Jongno-gu district among antique markets and art studios, does not reflect the playful nature of the surrounding neighborhood.

A different story is told inside Lim's tenth-floor apartment. At first, it can be challenging to tell the difference between her sun-kissed living room and a pastel paradise. Lim, of course, is one of South Korea's most popular streamers, but a quick glance at her Insadong residence reveals that she could've easily worked as an interior designer for kawaii cafes in Harajuku, Tokyo; she has an eye for all things cute and pink. 

A common thread in Lim's home is a blending of soft and sweet with bite and edge, which she's applied to her career as an online personality. Lim is a collector and a maximalist, and there’s seldom an empty wall or corner. A travel souvenir (a Greek coin that has been out of circulation since the 1980s) here, a trinket (a waving sakura lucky cat from Japan) there; a photograph in a wavy handmade frame (designed by a local Insadong artist), a Sanrio plushie. Or two. Or Three. In fact, there are an inordinate amount of plushies in the Lim household. “It’s a bit of a self-soothing mechanism,” Lim admits with a laugh. “When I’m in a sour mood, I buy a plushie. Or go shopping.”

Despite the maximalism of Lim's apartment, it never feels congested... until you reach the closet. She has done her best to accommodate her vast wardrobe, attempting to keep it enclosed to the bedroom, but it has nonetheless splashed out into the rest of her apartment. A metal clothing wrack in the living room holds a few notable items (most of which are pink), but the garments themselves are exquisite enough to function as an art piece.

When asked what clothing she chooses to hang on the living room rack, Lim says, "I want to say it’s whatever I'm wearing most, but the truth is it's usually what I want to dress my friends in. I love having my girl friends over and dressing them up. I'm really into sleepovers. Painting each other's nails, doing each each other's hair, that sort of thing. It makes me feel like I'm finally getting to experience the girlhood — the teenhood — I never had.”

Lim's house has an air of permanence, of established roots, but she admits that she wasn't always a settler. She had never committed to creating a personal space for herself until she moved to Seoul. As her career blossomed and popularity grew, she considered relocating to a larger apartment in a more affluent neighborhood. “I’ll never follow through," she says. “I have a very personal relationship with this place. This neighborhood. I know all the staff at the local businesses and they know me. I feel very...” she pauses, searching for the appropriate word, “held here. It’s a nice community.”

It would be difficult to discuss Lim without mentioning her streaming setup. She does not, contrary to popular belief, have a separate room for gaming. A corner of Lim's bedroom is taken up by her desk, which is outfitted with multiple monitors, neon lights, and numerous trinkets from her favorite gaming franchises. "[Now that I'm famous], people assume I have a crazy complicated setup. That I must stream from a converted home office or a corporate warehouse. Manika Incorporated!" She laughs. "But, no, everything is still very homegrown, and I have no intention of changing anytime soon." As the adage goes: don’t fix what ain’t broke. 

The Filipina streamer hails from Manila, and those with a keen eye will notice design references to her motherland. A large Pamaypay hangs above the bar area, a wooden Karabow guards a bowl of keys in the foyer, and many antique pieces are paneled in stunning white capiz, a natural material abundant in the Philippines.

“My apartment is an extension of myself,” says Lim. “It’s everything that I am, everything that I was, and likely everything I’m going to be in the future. It’s all right here.” 

[solivcgant]

ceo  looks  at  the  other  :  some  sort  of  distain  on  her  features  (  this  isn't  her  .  this  isn't  HER  .  )   as  she  raises  an  eyebrow  from  behind  glass  desk  .  "  nochizawa  .  to  what  do  i  owe  the  PLEASURE  ?  "  but  she  doesn't  sound  all  too  pleased  ,  just  OVERWORKED  and  overtired  .  "  i'm  surprised  my  assistant  even  let  you  through  .  is  there  something  i  can  help  you  with  ,  or  do  you  plan  to  just  sit  there  with  your  JAW  SLACKED  like  an  idiot  ?  " @knifvd

he finds the entire situation ironic. the building and office where so many MEMORIES were made with her was slowly becoming another place he dreaded. he didn’t mind the looks of pity from the other workers or the barely hidden comments from the board members talking about how someone like him even DARED to enter her world. a stupid ambitious boy living above his means. still, he was used to ignoring people. and it wasn't like he was there to make friends in the corporate world. he was just there for HER.

but did she need him too? he wanted to think so-- though her father would GLADLY remind him that she did not. why would a ceo like her even rely on a lowly intern-- some GLORIFIED errand boy -- who wasn't even fit enough to be her assistant.

not that it mattered, he won’t leave her to suffer like this alone. not when he knows this WASN'T entirely the future she wanted for herself. yes, she wanted to become ceo and prove to everyone she was capable to run the company. but it wasn't supposed to be like THIS.

                               she wasn't supposed to become like her father.

what he did HATE was seeing the floors they walked down hand in hand after staying late. the hallways they ducked into for a brief goodluck kiss before she presented her ideas for the company going forward. the silent hugs in dark empty rooms after she TRIED to fight against the board and her father for their relationship. the emergency staircase where they sat together to complain about the stupid security guard for not letting him through and dreaming about the what-ifs for their future together.

now he avoided those sets of stairs and took the longer route up. using some stupid excuse about wanting to increase his step count before going home to play his games. in reality, he just didn't want to be reminded that all of those dreams came crashing down because he thought he could finally help her. some stupid bet he was sure he could WIN against her father. and for once in his life, he truly believed he wouldn't place second. that maybe the universe finally found some other temporary victim to share his misfortune with.

                                      but he was WRONG. as always--

"these papers need your stamp. and your assistant wasn't able to catch the mistake so he sent me.." to take the brunt of your anger. but he left that unsaid, they were no longer on joking terms and he'd rather not have her stare at him with even MORE contempt for simply standing in her space. he stepped forward and gently placed the stapled pile of papers on the far corner of her desk. the same spot where he used to lean against as he waited for her to pack her things so they could leave together. "he also doesn't know how to plan your schedule. so you're double booked with a meeting.. but i'm trying to fix it by moving it to another day where you have just one meeting booked.." she just didn't need to know that day he wanted to move it to was booked for meeting a potential business marriage partner. "so i think that day would be IDEAL since it wouldn't interfere too much with your schedule and push you back a few weeks.. if that's okay with you?"

         unexpected ANGST by local angst queen bunnypuff (ಡ‸ಡ)

[thesaltofcarthage]

It's not about morals. It's about the logic and economics of the business.

Many corporations signed long, expensive leases or bought office space in cities. Those leases cannot be broken and the office spaces aren't being sold. So the companies are paying rent or loans on unused desks and empty conference rooms. They are wasting their investments and their assets are losing money.

That's why they want "downtown" full of office drones again. They don't give a shit about productivity or worker happiness. They need to justify the money they're hemorrhaging on these buildings.

And mayors are shrilling that all the bodegas and breakfast/lunch places are suffering because the downtowns aren't full of office drones desperately trying to get some fresh air and a little hot food.

None of that is the fault of the workers.

Leases are a problem? Allow leases to be broken. The cities should buy up the empty buildings or take over the leases and turn them into affordable housing. Then people could live in the cities, filling them and making them more walkable, and they might not bitch so much about a 10-minute bike ride to work instead of a 1-hour commute. Then the bodegas would have customers. And the people who want to work from the suburbs, or two states over, could still work remotely, and the jobs would get done.

Lockdowns dealt a serious blow to late-stage capitalism. We don't want to go back to how it was, and we shouldn't have to.