#sonder find the word

[kyofsonder]

Update:

I've edited the Circle Witch fun fact, realizing I was very much in a tunnel-vision state of having a lot of context my readers didn't. Hopefully the context is a little clearer now.

Find the Word 2

I’ve been tagged by several people recently to find select sets of words in my WIPs, and this time I’m not combining them since those posts tend to get a little too long. For this post, I’ll find some words that @aohendo chose for me. Thank you for the tag, for your patience waiting for me to respond, and for the chance to keep playing my favorite game!

My Words: reflect, reach, raise, rely, rampant

I’ll Tag: @on-noon, @perasperaadastrawriting, @maybenow22, @inkovert, @inkspellangel, and as always anyone who wants to join in can use the following words and say I tagged them!

Your Words: stable, shift, reflex, start, influence

As always, I’ll put the excerpts themselves below the cut for readability. 

I found reflect(ed) in my Danny Phantom fanfic “Lingering Scars”:

"It's not just Vlad, either! Every time we fight together, someone else finishes the fight! Strong core? Stability? None of that even comes up! I only have fewer injuries than you because I've already been pulled out of the fight by the time things get serious! I'm always being protected, so of course I'm not getting hurt! Ever! You always keep me safe in dangerous situations!" Dani's eyes flash green, her palms glowing with an energy she immediately snuffs out as soon as she catches it in her peripheral vision. The growl he's been feeling in his own chest and throat echoes under her voice now, like the anxious rumblings of some kind of juvenile big cat -- something large and angry, but not yet grown into its size or its rage.

"Okay! Alright! You're mad! But you're in a house of ghost hunters who would shoot on sight if they caught you in my room, so keep it down!" Danny whisper-shouts back at her, that same growl reflected back at his little sister to drive his point home. It doesn't work. 

I found reach in several of my WIPs, including my short story “Kiyo”:

My sleep comes with dreams. I'm not the type to dream often, but I usually know when it's happening. I get the feeling that something is off. Shifted. Tilted diagonally, just a little. I can feel that now, in an apartment without Kiyo. I go over to her usual spot, wondering what kind of subconscious-fueled nonsense I'll see in her place. A black hole that eats everything that gets close, maybe. A well, full of water I won't be giving to my roommate at dinner time anymore. I drag my feet all the way there, somehow knowing that the dream won't let me do anything else until I've seen whatever it is for myself. When I finally get there, I don't see a black hole or a symbolic well or even an empty plant pot. I see a note, too small to have possibly been printed through a regular printer but too neat and uniform to possibly be handwritten. I don't need the dream to prompt me here. I just reach for the note on my own.

I found variations of raise (raised, raises, etc.) in almost all of my WIPs, including my novel “Apricots”:

"Alright. Okay. I'll say the thing. I... give me a second, it feels weird to say something like that so suddenly," he laughs under his breath, the sound a mask to hide his doubts about this whole situation, then straightens his spine and mimics the expression that Noah had made when he'd said the line initially, "'I walk in the direction of truth.'"

"Thank you," his friend sounds so relieved, it takes Ian a second to notice that there's something on his wrist that wasn't there before. Noah's own hands are raised on either side of his head, almost like he's apologizing. He takes a step back from Ian, who takes a step toward him to close the distance and instantly regrets acting on reflex. His leg jerks when it doesn't connect with the ground, his whole body lurching forward as his stomach tries to drop out of his abdomen. The sensation makes him dizzy, everything spinning so violently that he has to shut his eyes. All he knows is the sensation of falling, without ever landing.

I found rely in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”:

In fact, he'd prefer to avoid today's meeting altogether if he could. Keep studying on his own. Repeating the steps exactly as he reads them in his textbooks. Figuring things out without any outside input. Getting it wrong. Getting stuck. Having to retrace his steps and start the same spell over again. And again. And again. If he keeps going at this pace, he won't even pass the basic refresher course on bloodline spellcasting until he's cleared every other class Dawnriver has to offer. He'll never graduate. Never become Centerpoint. Never be in a position to actually negotiate on equal footing and get his answers. He can't afford to rely on himself alone this time. As much as he hates doing it, and as bad of an idea as it is to go when he hasn't had time to prepare, Micah needs a tutor. He needs help.

I didn’t find rampant, so here’s a fun fact related to the previous excerpt:

I’ve mentioned it before, but Micah is a Bloodline Witch. This means his magic is inherited as a natural-born ability. Having this type of magic also means he can be called a Circle Witch. The title of Circle Witch refers to the circles of influence in which these magical bloodlines operate. Every family that mutates the ability to use magic will also have branch families, allied neighbors, and magic users they're on friendly terms with or have authority over in some capacity. It's similar to an ecosystem, where every animal living in a tree has its own role to play and offers something to the tree but would be vulnerable without the tree's protection. The Renner family is the tree for branch families like the Ritters, and allies like the Path family of werewolves. Within every core bloodline like the Renners, every sheltering tree, there’s one individual who holds the most power and influence over everyone else in the bloodline and its extended Circle. This individual is called the Centerpoint, the core of the core of a family’s Circle. In the canon of "To Be Honest," the Centerpoint of the Renner family is going to step down in a few years. Anticipating this, Micah and his two cousins are all in training to take a test that might just earn them that coveted position within their family and its larger Circle. By the end of the story, one of them will become the new Renner Centerpoint. 

I’m not entirely sure that fun fact made sense when shared on its own, but it’s something I’ve been meaning to clarify since the on-page revelation of Centerpoints and Circles in TBH unfolds somewhat slowly. Thank you again for the tag, it was fun to find these words!

[elsweetheart]

what you heard : part one

synopsis: you start to develop feelings for your boyfriends dealer.

♪ what you heard — sonder ♪

cw: reader is a bisexual woman dating a man, brief descriptions of having sex with a man, weed, alcohol, ellie’s sexual thoughts, blink and you miss it mention of throwing up, a man being really mean and a bad boyfriend, gay girl drama, ellie is kind of a homewrecker but reader doesn’t technically cheat, but mentions of it. kind of angsty at times? a little?

an: whew this is kinda lengthy !! idk how many words so… don’t ask me :( i hope you all enjoy it! i’ll start writing part two asap!

Ellie didn’t hate any of her customers, no. That would be bad for business. She just simply… preferred some over the others. Louis was one of those customers that she wouldn’t exactly reserve her best weed for. Not originally, at least. He was like a lot of the other guys on campus, average. Brown hair with the same old outfits, love of sports, and friend group. She could find one hundred of him. She kept a pretty exclusive clients list, not wanting to overwhelm herself with business whilst she’s really trying this year to stay on top of her studies. He wasn’t the most polite, and he was always showing up without texting first — but he paid, and that was good enough to keep him on as a customer.

Alright, maybe that wasn’t really the reason Ellie kept him on as a customer.

She always liked to check out the social media accounts of the people she sold to, try and figure out what kind of person they were, who they knew, and if they seemed like the type to give her up if a cop came knocking. Also, simply put — the girl was nosy. Don’t let her nonchalant demeanour fool you, her Insta-stalking skills rivalled the FBI. She knew she probably shouldn’t, and she did feel a little weird doing it — scrolling on her bed one evening in a hoodie and basketball shorts, she typed in Louis’ name to the Instagram search bar.

He had one picture up of you, the rest were pictures of him and his friends at parties. Real classy, she thought. She clicked the picture, wondering what kind of girl would have to be desperate enough to go out with a guy this… meh, and oh… Oh. You were smoking hot. It was a halloween throwback, a basic couple costume with Louis dressed as the devil and you, ironically enough dressed as an angel. He kept his sweaty pink hand on the curve of your ass as the two of you laughed. She wondered what was funny. He got lucky, she thought. Very lucky.

Ellie tapped you, and a tag emerged on the screen with your name. Pretty name, of course. Private account — much to her disappointment.

It would be totally inappropriate to follow you, right? Her customers girlfriend. Ellie clicked her own profile, gazing at it thoughtfully. Her profile picture was a black screen, and she had zero pictures up on her account. She had a considerable amount of followers, given her reputation but she didn’t follow many back — just a few very loyal customers, and her best friends Jesse and Dina. It would be weird to follow you right? Yes. Very weird, Ellie. She closed out the app, and pretty much forgot about it.

It was always the same exchange with Louis. He turned up, either unannounced or 2 hours late — burp, demand weed whilst barely sparing Ellie a glance or a thank you, and then head out. She didn’t always mind — not being a huge fan of small talk anyway, though she could do without the burp. He’d had texted earlier in the day, asking — no, telling Ellie that he would be passing by to pick up his usual ‘at some point’. A quiet knock rapt at the door around 02:23PM. Ellie swung the door open, coming face to face with you.

“Hi… Ellie?” You smiled. Hopeful, sweet, even prettier in person. You were wearing a little sundress with the cheap thin material that hugged every curve on your body, and if she stared a little longer like she wanted to she’d start to border on creepy. Ellie cleared her throat, fighting out a greeting and praying it would come out relatively normal.

“Yeah.” Was what she landed on. Whatever, play it cool. Pretend you didn’t try and stalk her Instagram.

“Louis isn’t coming, the weed is for me and he told me where to buy from, so… hi.” You grinned before telling her your name like she didn’t already know it.

“Hey. I’m Ellie.” And with that, she stepped aside and let you in.

It was like you brought the sunshine in from outside with you, because as soon as you stepped into her room Ellie felt too warm in her grey hoodie. She pushed the sleeves up as your eyes flickered around her dorm, realised she felt stupid and pushed them back down.

“How much you want?” She was pulling out the metal box from her drawer, glancing up at you as your brows furrowed unsurely — thinking as you tugged at your glossed lip. Ellie tried not to stare.

“Uh—” You breathed, and it relaxed Ellie slightly to see that you seemed more nervous than she did somewhat— just for a different reason. “Louis told me to just ask for what he usually gets? I’m sorry, I’ve never bought my own weed before.” You cringed, and then cringed again at the word choice. Ellie smiled fade into a soft chuckle with a nod that said ‘I bet you haven’t.’ She should have guessed, when did pretty girls ever buy their own weed?

“You’re good. I know what his usual is.” Ellie reassured, digging around in the nuggets. She pulled a couple out, placing them down on her scale before bagging them up. You held out your hand unsurely, and she pressed the plastic baggie into it. Your mouth opened to say something, and Ellie’s hand froze above yours as she watched you — trying to work out what might be wrong. “What? Is this not…”

“No, sorry. It’s perfect. I assume. I’m not sure. I just… I don’t know how to roll these. Lou told me to buy my own weed seeing as I am the one who wanted to smoke and — it’s okay. I’ll just Google it.” You shook your head, feeling your cheeks turn warm at your own rambling. Ellie stopped you as you went to shove the baggie into her pocket with a calm smile, raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘Hey, it’s okay. Chill.’

“I can roll it for you. It’s no biggie.”

You visibly relaxed, and Ellie could tell because of the way your chest collapsed slightly, not suffocating your tits against the material of your dress anymore which she couldn’t help but glance at as you looked away. “Thanks. Sorry.” You guffawed, your embarrassment seeming a little relieved as you stepped back, leaning against her desk as she pulled her chair and tray out to do the rolling.

“Louis not buying your weed for you?” She conversed, eyes on the rolling paper as she carefully packed it. Your head snapped towards her, realising that you were the one who blabbed that. Her eyes glanced up at you briefly when you didn’t immediately answer.

“No. It’s… okay though.” You justified, a mass of shame swirling just below your rib cage. You didn’t wanna talk shit about your boyfriend to a stranger, even if the stranger had a totally welcoming vibe about her — and your boyfriend was cheap. Ellie tsk’d lightheartedly, shaking her head. “Against the rules, man.” She comment quietly.

“What rules?” You furrowed your brows defensively as she continued packing.

“You don’t let your girl buy her own weed?” She repeat obviously. Something about the way she said it made the embarrassment in your stomach dissipate into butterflies, which widened your eyes slightly at the disloyal feeling.

“Oh.”

Silence for a beat or two as Ellie concentrate. You notice the lesbian flag on her pinboard.

“It’ll probably just be me and my friends that smoke it anyway. The weathers nice so we’ll be at one of those frat pool parties… You don’t go to those?” You tilt your head, and her eyes lingered on you as you did so at the sugary sweetness in your gesture. God, you made her teeth hurt.

“Nah. I hear those things get weird and horny. Straight people… no offence.” She glances towards you once more, the ‘no offence’ holding little to no weight. Ellie didn’t seem like the type to give a shit about offence, anyways.

“I’m bisexual, but I understand.” You giggle, pushing yourself back to sit more on her desk, swinging your legs as you watch her roll. Her fingers froze for just a moment, before she continued rolling.

“Oh yeah?” She conversed, absolutely despising how a flame of hope flickered in her chest. Nope. Not doing this again.

“Yeah, actually I…” You chuckled. “I started college with the hopes of finding a girlfriend. Things just… didn’t end up that way I guess.” You shrugged, and you seemed happy enough but Ellie could sense the disappointment buried deep.

“Huh.” Ellie let out as she licked the rolling paper, firmly closing it up. She kind of hoped you were watching her as she did so. You weren’t. “You know if you squint really hard Louis could be a lesbian.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Nope.” Ellie pushed her chair back, standing. You chuckled and she smirked, pushing the two pre rolls she’d made into a bigger baggie and then presenting them to you. “This gonna be enough?”

“Oh yeah, I’m a total lightweight.” You giggled girlishly and she nodded, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she watched you fish around in your purse, unzipping an inside pocket to stuff the rolls inside.

“Cute.” She let slip with a smile, and your heart fluttered a little. You berated yourself for that silently.

“What extra do I owe you? Do you charge for rolling or… I don’t know how this usually works.” You pulled out your pink zip up wallet, the zip a glittery jewel between your fingers.

“Nah. No extra charge.” She held her hands up and you raised your eyebrows in surprise. That was a lie. She did usually charge extra for that, but one thing about Ellie was that she was a sucker for the pretty girl discount.

“Really?” And out came the doe eyes, your dark heavy eyelashes weighty above your pretty eyes as you looked up at her in awe. It was Ellie’s hearts turn to flutter.

“Really.” She smirked, not breaking eye contact (much to her surprise) as she pinched the cash payment from you between her pointer and middle finger knuckles, only swallowing down the giddiness when your fingers brushed hers. You grinned, zipping your wallet back up and tucking it away, feet tapping on the floor a little like you just couldn’t contain your excitement (Which made Ellie want to squeeze you.)

“I know you said it’s not your thing, but you should come to one of the pool parties. Most of the time the people there are cool. It’ll be good for business.” You wiggled your eyebrows which made Ellie’s smile uncontainable, teeth actually on display now which she honestly never did. No one was ever funny or cute enough.

“Maybe.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, walking you towards her door.

“They happen every weekend. Would be cool to see you there.” You fixed your bag over your shoulder before turning back to her. “Nice to meet you, Ellie. You’ll be seeing more of me.” You nodded formally, and the auburn haired girl tore her eyes away from the visible band of your underwear through the material of the dress when you looked back at her, muttering a “Good.”

Ellie always came away from these kind of things wishing she said more. She knew you had a boyfriend, but something about you seemed more curious. Like you weren’t totally against the idea of flirting back. Maybe it was all in her head because of the stupid crush she’d already developed. She didn’t understand it, how could someone like you feel fulfilled by someone like him. Ellie would never let you pay for your own weed, she’d treat you right. She had the means to be able to spoil you, which she didn’t need proof to know that Louis didn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even pay for his girls weed — Ellie knew stingy when she saw it. He probably wasn’t even making you cum. Not like Ellie could anyway, but then again who could? She’d like to think she had a gift — but maybe it was a guitarist-fingers thing, and years of deftly rolling tight joints.

Ellie shook her head free of the thought — sure she was a little grey-moralled — but thinking about finger fucking one of your customers girlfriends on a sunny afternoon felt a little wrong even for her. She was heading off to meet Dina to exchange notes for a class she missed, again just about willing herself to stay focused this semester. The two of them chat over coffee, the notes barely touched as the two friends joked around. When a pensive silence filled the space between them, Ellie spoke up — picking at a hangnail in a way she hoped was casual.

“You ever been to those campus pool parties? The ones at that douchey frat house?” She shrugged, glancing up at her darker haired friend.

“Uh, yeah. Like once or twice.” Dina frowned before snickering, raising a doubtful eyebrow. “What, you interested? You don’t even enjoy regular parties, hermit.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped slightly in offence, letting out a scoff before taking a sip of her coffee — still scalding hot on her tongue. “Excuse me. I’d be there strictly on business. I heard it’s… I was told I should go.” She explained. Dina’s smirk deepened, eyes lowering into slits.

“Who is she?”

“Why do you assume this is about a girl?” She rolled her jewelled eyes, before glancing around the cafe just incase anyone was listening to her pathetic segue into talking about you.

“Because last time I suggested you come with me and Jesse you nearly threw a textbook at my head.” Dina argued, making Ellie sit back in her seat, looking away in defeat as she crossed her arms over her light grey hoodie.

“She’s got a boyfriend. So it doesn’t matter. Just said it would be good for business and… the customer is always right, so I’ve been told.” Ellie rushed out, Dina’s shoulders dropping with a pitying look.

“Oh Ellie. Why put yourself through that?”

“She’s bi — okay stop. This isn’t about her. I was just asking. Fuckin’… forget it.” Ellie flipped the page of her notes now, going to scribble down what Dina had written to get her mind off the conversation.

“Alright, alright.” Her friends held up her hands. “Defensive.”

Ellie didn’t see Louis much from that point on. Same time, every week — you would be on her doorstep. Ellie wasn’t sure if it was just out of convenience, or maybe you had wanted to see her. You had the same spritely, sunshine attitude each time you stepped into her dorm — lighting it up with your smile and your pretty dresses. The auburn haired dealers heart was beginning to ache in a painfully familiar way. An unrequited crush, a girl she couldn’t have. She wished she could say this was the first time she’d crushed on a girl with a boyfriend — but that would be a lie.

Each time you left, the giddiness would fade out into a prickly, warm and uncomfortable anger settling in at the pit of her stomach. Occasionally, you’d let slip the way Louis treat you — and if you didn’t say it, she could tell by the look on your face when his name would come up. Your classes were stressing you out, hence needing her weed to unwind in the first place, and your boyfriend was doing nothing to ease your anxiety, instead choosing to go out and get wasted with his friends each night. You deserved better, and she knew it wasn’t her place to say but shit, it was killing her. You were killing her. She could treat you better.

From outside the frat house, she could hear music, laughter, and water splashing from down the street. Ellie stood with Dina and Jesse, already regretting her decision.

“Fuck this. I’m turning around.” Ellie attempted to swivel, but Jesse grabbed her arm.

“No you’re not. You’re here to sell, remember? Got a friend with money, said he’d pay you good.” He gave her a light shove towards the door, Dina rolling her eyes at the two’s antics. Ellie felt overdressed, wearing her short sleeved blue worn denim shirt unbuttoned over a wife beater and shorts with her Converse, pockets stuffed with pre-rolls gifting her that usual marijuana infused smell that followed her around that said ‘Hey everyone! I’m a dealer!’ Upon stepping out into the backyard, it was clear what kind of party it was. The sun was still shining, and people seemed pretty drunk already — jumping off the low roof and into the pool, girls on the outskirts squealing in their bikinis. The floor was practically vibrating with the bass from a Drake song and the sun was sizzling the back of Ellie’s neck — recipe for a headache, she thought. She’d sell her shit, and get out.

She knew you’d be here. In the back of her mind she knew. And yet, her heart still damn near thudded out her chest when you were suddenly right in front of her, arms extended with a big toothy grin. Ellie had almost panicked, not ready for the confrontation. She hadn’t even gotten herself a drink yet, hadn’t even smoked yet and here you were. You were wearing a white bikini and it looks so pretty against your soft skin. She was looking at your tits again.

Ah, shit.

“Ellie! M’so happy you came! I didn’t think I’d ever see you at one of these!” You all but squealed, throwing your arms around her neck and pulling your body taut against hers. Ellie didn’t have to look at Dina and Jesse to know that their eyebrows were practically in their hairline, taking in the scene in front of them. Your bikini top was damp still clearly having taken a dip in the pool earlier, along with the ends of your hair and she felt the wet triangles pressing damp spots into her own chest, your tits pressed up against her. You even had the nerve to let out a happy little ‘mmph’ moan as your body collided with hers. Were you really that happy to see her? God, if I had a dick right now, it would be rock fuckin’ hard. Thank fuck I don’t, Ellie thought— eyes opening again, not realising that she had squeezed them shut to suppress a moan when she’d hugged you back.

“Uh, yeah! Told you I’d consider it.” She tried to play it cool when she pulled back, taking in your giggly expression. You didn’t let go of her arm as you pulled away, and a waft of alcohol drifted through to Ellie’s nose, suddenly helping her understand the situation a little better. You were pretty drunk, but where was your boyfriend? Ellie scanned behind you, searching for his brunette mop only to be met with several dozens of them. Great. She felt a spike of anger in her chest again, violently protective. Who just leaves their girl wandering around in a bikini, drunk, at a frat party? “Wheres your little boyfriend?” Her expression flattened out, and she caught herself. She didn’t mean for it to come out like… that. Luckily, you were drunk enough to not notice the bitterness in her tone.

“Louis? Oh— uh…” Your bottom lip stuck out as you spun around on your tiptoes to see over heads, scanning the yard for him before spinning back with a shrug. You dropped back down onto the balls of your feet and your tits bounced in Ellie’s peripheral vision. “Who knows.” You giggle, eyes jumping to Ellie’s two friends, silently watching with amused smirks.

“Oh, uh— these are my friends. Dragged me along here. Dina,” She pointed. “And Jesse.” He gave you a little wave.

“Hi!” You chirped with an adorable little wave, before telling them your own name. “I’m not usually this…uh—”

“Drunk?” Ellie leant forward quietly with a smirk, like it was a secret just between the two of you. You giggled, turning back to her, introductions long forgotten as your face morphed into a theatric pout, blown out puppy dog eyes and all.

“Who says I’m drunk? Maybe I’m just really friendly.” You practically pur, suggestiveness dripping off your tone as your hand pulled her by her arm just that little bit closer, soft fingertips over her tattoo. Just as Ellie scrambled for an answer — your name was called in a familiar voice. Louis.

“Babe, there you are.” He sounded irritated, and Ellie straightened her back, jaw squaring ever so slightly. Be friendly, Ellie. He’s a customer — she remind herself. A shitty one, but he still pays you.

“Oh…” He took Ellie in, eyes jumping over her attire before glancing back at you. She just admit, she did look violently lesbian that day — and the body language between her and his girl wasn’t looking all too great to fresh eyes. “Hey.”

You reluctantly let go of Ellie’s arm, which didn’t go unnoticed by the brunette boy.

“I was just catching up with Ellie!” You grinned, and God — were you aware of just how flirtatious you looked batting your eyelashes up at her like that? In front of your boyfriend?

“Yeah, I see that.” Louis’ eyes didn’t leave Ellie’s, which of course she took as a competition without even thinking. She took a step closer, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She stood around 5’7. Taller when she wore boots. Taller if she fixed her posture. He wasn’t much taller than her, so she pretty much met his eye. Her heart skipped a few beats knowing you were watching her, but she held his gaze anyway— tilting her chin up a little. “Thanks for looking after my girl.” He spoke, which almost made Ellie want to laugh.

“Any time.” Eye to eye, the smirk that tugged at her lips held more meaning and the two of you knew it. Oh, she’d look after you alright. Louis’ eyes flickered away, glancing over at Dina and Jesse before back to her, stepping away and putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Come watch me play beer pong?” He spoke to you and you shrugged happily, taking the drink out of his hand and sipping. The freckled dealer couldn’t help but briefly think about how if you were with her she would have cut you off by this point, wrapping an arm around your waist and telling you that you’d had enough to drink, maybe suggest grabbing you a water. As he lead you away, you craned in his hold to wave at Ellie, who waved a few fingers back— watching closely. It was a casual crush before, but now it was on. She didn’t like Louis’ smugness, nor his general attitude or the way he was neglecting you. She had to take you and leave him with nothing. No, Ellie. You’re being like him. She’s not a piece of meat. But she knew the protectiveness didn’t stem from that. Did she think about you sexually? Yeah. But she could give you more than that. You were a sweet girl, and you should be treated as such.

“That was tense.” Dina raised her eyebrows, breaking the auburn haired girls concentration, her gaze snapping back to her friends.

“Oh, uh — he’s fuckin’… weird. I dunno. I give him my shitty weed.” She shrugged it off, looking over her shoulder once more to watch you disappear inside.

“I get it now, though. She’s a total smoke show.” Dina dropped her hand onto Ellie’s shoulder who sighed, shaking off the whole interaction.

“Whatever. I need a drink.” Ellie rolled her eyes, stepping away.

“She was hot.”

“Jesse, it’s okay when I say it. Not when you say it.”

“What? You just called her a smoke show! You’ve never called me that.”

Ellie left the bickering couple behind to find a beer, needing something cool and alcoholic to wind her down. Why was she getting so possessive over someone that wasn’t hers? You were making her feel like a creep, and she didn’t like that. Ellie did not catch feelings easily, despite her past mistakes. So like… what the fuck?

She didn’t see you for two weeks.

Maybe you’d realised you shouldn’t be giving her the eyes. Maybe Louis stepped up his game, who knows. Neither of you had even purchased any weed, and it was approaching exam season so Ellie knew you were stressed. But did she know? Was it presumptuous of her to ‘know’ how you feel?Just based off several occurrences and conversations when you’d come to her dorm to pick up? She tried to shake the feeling of you, your skin grazing hers and your pretty eyes staring up at her — and it was actually working. Maybe time does heal everything. Until of course, she went to the library and the clocks reversed on themselves.

She had to admit, she was falling a little behind in her work. She had gotten so preoccupied in selling that she had almost forgotten to be, well… a student. Her backpack was making her shoulder sore so she switched it to the other as she wandered through the building, fairly quiet for a Tuesday. She felt a pit of irritation bud inside her when she saw someone sat in the seat she wanted, the one that was away from everyone else in the library. She note the pink laptop case, the Hello Kitty stickers on the water bottle, the bracelets on the protruding arm. Oh, it was you.

Ellie was planning to walk on by. You’re here to do work, not flirt or get yourself involved in some kind of sapphic shenanigan. Your head was on the desk, and she figured you had fallen asleep — which almost made her smile fondly before she caught herself. Not yours, Ellie. As she stepped away however, she heard a sniffle. Then another. Ellie froze, willing herself not to do it. It’s not your responsibility Ellie, you can walk away and pretend you never saw. She pursed her lips, turning around anyway.

As she did so, you were lifting your head from the table, wiping your cheeks and nose of tears. You had this pitiful pout on your face, streaming eyes all pink and glossy and your nostrils damp in this oddly adorable way. Ellie still had time to creep away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“You uh… you good?” She stood awkwardly, making you snap your head towards her in surprise. She didn’t miss the way your eyes widened slightly in embarrassment at seeing a familiar face in such a vulnerable moment.

“Oh — Ellie. Um, yes. I’m fine.” You tried, but when you held her doubtful gaze — your lip wobbled again.

“Okay.” Ellie sighed after a beat, pulling up a seat and dragging it to your small table. Yep, she was doing this. “Talk to me.” She spoke in a hushed tone. She was so gentle with her voice and her eyes and her general demeanour — something you weren’t so used to — it soothed you enough to calm you for a moment and you revelled in the unfamiliar but warm feeling she brought you.

“I don’t wanna bore you with it.” You shook your head with an demure chuckle. Ellie wanted to reach forward and wipe your tears away, her hands itched on the table in-front of her instead.

“We’re literally in the library. I promise you that nothing is more boring than my text-book.” She raised an eyebrow with the attempts of making you laugh. Instead, you watched her for a moment. Ellie could tell you were wondering why she was being so nice to you. Does she treat all her customers this way?

“It’s… stupid. Louis just…” You sigh, as if the mere mention of his name makes you cringe. “We’re not that serious. So… I don’t care what he goes off and does in his spare time,” Interesting, Ellie noted. “But he gets really mad. And when he gets mad he gets mean. I guess I just need thicker skin.” Your voice cracked.

“Or you need to be with someone who’s not an asshole.” Ellie snipped before she got the chance to stop herself. Your eyes met hers again, a little wide in shock. “Sorry.” She closed her eyes, collecting herself. You blinked and two fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

“It’s… okay.” You whispered, playing with your bracelet. A silence sat between you two, just the sound of quiet shuffling in the library and your sniffs.

“Look, don’t let him get to you. You don’t… deserve that.” She shook her head and you nodded slowly, accepting. It was as if Louis were purposely giving her more reason to dislike him, and it was getting harder to hide her distaste for him. Snide comments were slipping out more frequently, Shit — she could barely even contain her facial expressions when his name was mentioned. Something had to be done soon, because she didn’t know how much ‘pretending’ she had left in her. Thankfully, the two of you seemed to have developed a bit of a friendship — so she felt less guilty about bashing your boyfriend, as you seemed understanding due to his often unlikeable ways.

“You done here soon?” Ellie looked around at the library. You wiped your cheek, hitting save on your laptop and shrugging.

“Didn’t really have any work to do, just didn’t know where to go.” You pout sadly, making Ellie have to dig her nails into her seat this time so that she didn’t lean forward and kiss it off you.

“Y’wanna smoke? On me. You need cheering up.” She stood up, swinging her backpack back on, studying long forgotten. You looked up at her hopefully, a glint of reluctance in your eye. You didn’t know why it felt wrong, you weren’t technically doing anything wrong. Just two friends hanging out, right? Louis wouldn’t know that you’re attracted to her. You wasn’t even sure if Louis remembered that you were bisexual for Gods sake, despite telling him a whole bunch of times.

“Really? I can pay you Ellie…” Your eyebrows knit together, and she was already shaking her head.

“My treat. I don’t like seeing pretty girls cry. Makes me wanna cry. You want me to cry?” She joked, pointing at herself in disbelief. She felt relief at the giggle that made its way out your throat, covering your mouth as to not disturb the other library goers. Pretty girls. The words echoed around your head until your face was hot before it dropped into your stomach and made a nest there.

“Okay.” You agreed after a moment. What harm could it do? Louis was an asshole, and the guilt began to slip away as you stood up — remembering all the nasty things he’d said to you.

“Alright, good.” Ellie grinned, turning her face away for a moment so maybe you wouldn’t see how excited she was. You did.

_

“Thats a terrible first high story.” You giggled, taking a draw from the joint.

“What? Fuck you let’s hear yours then!” Ellie gaped, leaning forward from her seat on her bed to take the joint from you as you exhaled. You bit back your smile, letting your pink, watery eyes sail off in thought at you recalled your first time smoking.

“Kay, so… I was 17.” You staged dramatically, widening your eyes slightly as she smirked at your theatrics, leaning back with her eyes glued to you. If you weren’t so blazed, maybe you’d feel nervous under her simmering gaze. “Best friends brother let us smoke some in the backyard with his friends. I tried to play it cool, but I smoked too much and start laughing and I couldn’t stop. Like — it was painful, and I was scared because I couldn’t stop laughing. And they were all looking at me like what the fuck… so I went inside, tried to calm myself down and I threw up on the carpet. Like a distressed cat.” You pouted lightheartedly as Ellie chuckled along with your story.

“Threw up? How strong was the weed? Damn.” She laughed and you shook your head.

“It might have been the shots we’d done before hand to calm our nerves. Bad idea.” You cringed and she nodded, eyes still piercing into you as her laughter died down.

“That might’ve been it, yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as she brought the joint to her lips once again, sucking in as she inhaled the pungent smoke. Ellie always got this confidence about her when she smoked. Well — she always had this slightly cocky demeanour about her, but for the most part it was an act. A need to protect herself. A defence mechanism that helped her get by — being a dealer was a social ass job. But smoking made that feeling real. She knew that was bad, relying on weed for real confidence and all, but hey — she’ll take what she can get.

“How you feeling? Any better?” She tested the waters, almost sorry she brought it up when you remembered Louis’ existence, expression melting a little into one of slight disappointment. One that said ‘Oh yeah… him.’ Like you’d forgotten for a moment.

“I guess. Not gonna let it bother me like you said. I don’t have the energy.” You shrugged, tearing your gaze away to study your baby pink manicure instead. Ellie scoffed out a little chuckle, finally stubbing out the joint. The noise attracted your attention and you met her analytical stare.

“Can I… ask what you see in that guy? Not judging just… curious.” She held her hands up in defence, but you didn’t exactly jump to his rescue. Infact it took you a moment to think about it.

“I don’t…” You stop yourself from saying ‘I don’t know’, your pride still burning despite the weed letting your guard down. “He’s… nice most of the time. Kinda guy your parents want you to bring home. He’s not as bad as he seems around other people. I guess he makes me feel wanted when we’re together?” You consider, but the way you say it makes Ellie think that you don’t even fully believe it. “I think… it was gonna be just sex. When I first met him anyway, but if I’m being totally honest the sex isn’t worth it on its own so I dunno… I thought I’d feel more fulfilled by a commitment, you know?”

Ellie was delighted, to be honest. It was music to her ears. You were just spewing about how unfulfilled you were, and she was starting to feel more and more confident that she could convince you that there was a bigger and better world out there. She laughed, openly — letting the joy of the moment go to her head for a minute.

“Oh that’s funny?” You giggled back, chucking a small brown sentimental looking teddy bear at her from her bed. You pursed your lips and she could tell despite your laughter you were knocked slightly insecure by her reaction.

“A little.” She looks off to the side. You want to chuck something else at her but there’s nothing to throw.

“Why?” You push. You know why.

“Your boyfriend can’t fuck.” Her stomach tensed as another laugh bubbled up and you rolled your eyes theatrically, pushing yourself up just so you can dramatically change your position to face the other way on the bed, arms crossed and brow creased.

“Not opening up to you again.” You push out and she nudges you gently with her foot, a more sympathetic (yet equally amused) expression still at the surface.

“No, I’m sorry. Go on.” She waved her a hand a little in the smoky room, nudging you again with her sock covered toe.

“Thats it! There’s nothing else to it. My boyfriend can’t fuck and it sucks. I hate everything.” You complain, not daring to face her. She can’t help but burst out laughing again, the back of her head leaning back to rest on the wooden headboard as she runs a hand over her eyes, shielding herself from the bright dorm light, and you. She lets out an ‘ahhh’ at the end of her outburst.

She hears you whine her name, and she takes more pity on you this time purely because you sound so cute.

“Alright uh— tell me what he’s doing wrong. I’ll give you pointers to give to him so he can fix his shit.” She tries suddenly, as if just being struck by the idea — and she feels you slowly look at her. She pushes her chin down to her chest, looking at you now as she removes her hand from her eyes. You blink at her a couple of times, still pretty, still high as a kite.

You inhale through your nose, eyes drifting off in thought as you turn back towards her, invested, tucking your feet beneath your ass. You hum, coming up blank. “I don’t know. I feel like… you either got it or you don’t, you know? Sex is… emotional. Well, it should be. To him it’s just… getting off.” You shrug, opting to pick at a loose thread on her grey bed throw than look at her. The smirk is still dying on her lips like the slither of sunlight resting on water at the culmination of a sunset. She takes a little longer to think, brain fogged by her high.

“So… okay.” She pushes her palms into the bed to sit up a little more. “What do you like? I don’t really pin you as someone who… wants to be in control.” She analyses, watching you carefully for a reaction. She notices the flick up of your eyebrows and guesses — correct.

“With him there’s no… no one is in control. It’s not one person calling the shots or any kind of dynamic it’s just… we just fuck and that’s it.” You sound sad this time, like bringing the conversation to forefront was making you realised just how unhappy you were.

“Do you cum?” She asks abruptly, and you nearly choke on your own saliva. You think it catches her off guard too, because she looks away from you for a moment and itches her head before deciding fuck it, and goes back to staring. You bite your lip. Well there was that one time, you were on your back — Louis on top, you had a hand pressed between the two of you, rubbing your clit in quick sloppy circles as he got busy. Your eyes were closed. Did you cum? Kind of? Your eyes were closed. You were somewhere else. Somewhere softer and warmer, and it didn’t smell like beer and sweat. You shake your head, no. It was the closest time though, but Louis got all hostile about you touching yourself during sex. Said it was insulting, that you undermined him. You shook off the memory.

“No?” She whispers, eyebrows raised to the high heavens as if she just couldn’t fathom having sex and not making her partner cum — because that’s exactly what she was doing. She felt that hot tingling anger again in her chest, but it was dulled out by the weed — leaving her with just a light irritation at the back of her throat. “Thats fucked up.”

“Is it? I mean… orgasms take time. Doesn’t just happen in five minutes… that can get exhausting.” You defend, and you’re not sure why. You both know there’s no excuse.

“Nah.” She sniffs, not quite bothered to begin on how wrong you are. She switches the subject slightly instead. “So let me guess, missionary everytime?”

Your eyes widen, pressing your fingers over your lips to stop the childish giggle from bursting out. Ellie’s eyes widen too, realising how, well — down bad she was acting. She felt like a teenage boy on Snapchat playing truth or dare asking an uninterested girl if she’d ever send nudes before.

“Uh— fuck, you don’t have to answer that. Just making conversatio—”

“Most of the time. I think…” You decide to share something to make her feel less invasive, not wanting the conversation to end. You actually enjoyed getting to talk someone about this. “I think I’d feel good on top, maybe. But, hmm. How do I put this?” You thought. You looked at her for a moment and she gazed back, waiting on you to continue. Her breath caught in her throat when you crawled up toward her. “Lay back, please?” It was a request, not a command — and Ellie thought she might be dreaming when you straddled her with a frustrated expression.

You settled, and she was hyper aware of the feeling of your pillowy ass dropped down onto her thighs over her warm crotch.

“Okay, say I’m here. In this position.” You explain as well as you can, and when you give a few demonstrative bounces on her phantom cock her hands instinctively land on your hips to steady you. Fuck. Fucking shit. You don’t even seem to notice, or care. “This,” You point at your position. “Is me being in charge and… I don’t want that. It— it doesn’t get me off. I don’t wanna feel like I’m dominating them.” You whisper the last part like you’re telling her a secret at a girly sleepover, and she catches herself grinning before she scrambles, running over what you just said in her brain.

“Wait. Nah, that’s…” She adjusts herself slightly sheepish because she can feel herself blushing. Be cool, Ellie. Be dominant. “Thats bull. It doesn’t matter what position you’re in, it’s about how you make them feel.” She shrugs, and when you continue to stare at her, pink, glossy wide eyes— she carries on, you requiring more explanation. “If you’re on top working overtime, he should be telling you what a good job you’re doin’. How pretty you look doin’ it.” Her voices rasps in the way it does when she gets horny and she hopes she’s not giving herself away. Your mind goes a little blank, succumbing to the daydream of receiving that kind of praise. It makes your skin feel clammy. Louis isn’t below you in your daydream. Your freckled friend breaks your trail of thoughts. “And,” She’s smug now, and raises her knees behind you, planting her feet down on the bed and thrusting upwards a few times making you bounce a little, gripping her tighter. “Doesn’t matter if you were on top. I could still be the one fucking you. Just like this.”

You pause, only because you’re frozen in fear that she can feel the sudden floodgates open between your legs— praying to every God imaginable that you don’t leave some kind of pathetic wet patch on her. She thinks you’ve frozen at what she’s said.

“Uh— I mean Louis. Louis could still be the one— yeah.” She shrugs off, squeezing your hips with her warm fingers and you’re suddenly aware of your compromising position again, shaken from a dream. You slide off her quickly, bringing your knees to your chest and your back to the cool wall beside her bed. You were not a cheater. It doesn’t matter that the two of you didn’t kiss, or fuck, or whatever — what would have happened if Louis had walked in and seen you in your very gay dealers lap, pretending to have sex? You were not a cheater.

Ellie’s mouth was agape, like she wanted to say sorry but just couldn’t find it in her to feel sorry enough to say it. Her eyes were worried however, worried she’d made you uncomfortable or pushed it too far.

“I should… I shouldn’t stay. It’s getting late and—” You started looking for your bag with your laptop in it, where did you put it again?

“I’m sorry I— I didn’t mean to be weird. That was… I made you feel—” Her tone was apologetic now.

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m just hungry and I get weird when I’m… when I haven’t eaten. You’re fine. I mean, you were fine. Nothing weird just… friends hanging out, right?”

It hurt her, but Ellie nodded anyway. You were going back to him. It always ended this way.

“‘Kay. You got everything? You gonna be okay getting back? You’re still high.” Ellie stood, awkwardly dawdling behind you as you scooped up your purse. “I can walk you back—” She started patting her pockets for her key card.

“It’s okay, really. It’s still light outside and it’s a short walk. I think I need just… fresh air and quiet.” You avoid her eyes, but turn to face her as you back towards her door.

“Okay.” She was disappointed. “I hope you feel better now, ‘n stuff.” Your hand pushed the cold metal handle down and the hallway of her building was just as muggy, but it felt like a relief when some of the smoke from her dorm was released.

“I do.” You could look now, standing in the hallway as she didn’t move past her doorway. The distance made it safe enough to look at her pretty eyes without feeling you were going to do something bad. “Thank you Ellie. I owe you one.” Your brows knit together sincerely. Sure, I have a favour I need — break up with your boyfriend.

“Sure.” Ellie left it there, shook her head like it was nothing. “Text me and just… let me know that you got in okay. Yeah?” She continued to speak to you as you backed up down the hallway, awkwardly fumbling with your bag. It was wrong to let a girl walk back home high and alone. She thought about you walking around drunk and alone at that frat party. She was Louis this time.

“Will do. See you, Ellie.” Her name sounded like music when you said it. She had a new favourite song.

Your dorm was cooler, refreshing to be in when you got back. Your first mission was to look in the mirror and you sighed almost angrily seeing how flustered and a little dishevelled you look. You wanted to take the clothes off that touched her, still stinking of weed. You wanted food in your belly to flush her out. Flopping onto your back on your bed you pull your phone out, ignoring the texts and calls from your boyfriend — all to send a message to your dealer.

‘got back safe, thanks again😊’ You regret the emoji, but the Read: 5:13PM was immediate so there was no time to regret it for long. Three bubbles and then ‘Good’. You stare at the text, and then stare past the phone. You didn’t want to answer Louis right now. He could wait until tomorrow.

part two

[formulawolff]

too fast - l.h.

pairing: lewis hamilton x assistant!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: cursing, ANGST, lewis is kind of an asshole in this but he makes up for it, implication of smut, drug and alcohol usage, idk what else to include so if y'all find somethin' lemme know!

a/n: yeah here we go with the assistant and famous celebrity/athlete trope. i will always be a fan of this trope, no matter what. this fic is also heavily inspired by the song too fast by sonder. hope y'all enjoy! i figured i would take a small break from the toto content for the moment! <3

"so how are things lately?"

the lights of vegas glitter all around as you inhale, shrugging slightly, "could be better, could be worse."

"yeah?"

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"well i'm single," you avoid his gaze as you exhale, the smoke billowing into the cool air, "so yeah, things aren't great. maybe if you paid attention to our conversations you'd know."

"oh, right," he plucks the blunt out of your hands, "i don't know if you know, but i have other shit to worry about right now other than your life troubles."

"fuck you," you scoff, rolling your eyes, "we spend nearly every waking moment together and you don’t even listen to a single word that comes out of my mouth.”

“i mean,” he coughs, “that’s why you’re my assistant, and not my team principal. i don’t have to listen to you.” 

“are you fucking serious right now?” you swivel on your heel, facing him.

lewis hamilton, eight time world champion stands beside you, leaning over the balcony of his suite. beneath you, the headlights of cars flash, the white noise of airplane engines humming overhead. there are the occasional beeps of horns, laughter from the other mercedes crew on other balconies, and the roar of luxury cars as they peel down the straights. 

yet, lewis is as poised as ever, blunt in one hand, a bottle of heineken in the other. his gaze is glossy as he peers over at you, his nose piercing glittering in the dim light. his lips are pursed, as if he was processing the words that just came out of his mouth.

“hey,” he begins, setting the blunt on the ashtray, “i-i didn’t mean that.”

“i would sure fucking hope so,” tears well up in your eyes, heat flourishing through your cheeks and into your neck, “what the fuck is wrong with you? i literally do everything for you. i order all of your favorite things. i organize your ubers, your catering, other deliveries. i make your appointments with stylists. i book your photoshoots. i stock your fridge. i braid your hair for you. fuck lewis, i even call you every morning to make sure you’re up and awake. i can’t even get you to listen to me for three seconds?” 

shaking your head, you bring your hands to your face, in a vain attempt to hide the fact that you were now sobbing. the tears flow, droplets splattering on your top as your shoulders shake, “what the fuck do i have to do to be listened to around here?”

“hey,” lewis takes a step forward, his hands wrapping around your wrists, “hey, i’m sorry. it was just a rough day. qualifying didn’t go as planned. i’m so fucking sorry.”

“s-sorry?” you choke out, “you just told me you don’t even listen to me and all i get is sorry? i know that sometimes practices don’t go according to plan but you can’t just be a fucking asshole and expect me to be okay with it.”

“i know,” lewis exhales, wrapping his arms around you, “i really fucked up, okay? something about your tone just really set me off, and i am so sorry. i got into it with toto earlier, that’s probably why i’ve been so bitter tonight.”

ah, so that was the reason behind the little outburst. 

ever since lewis announced his departure from mercedes at the end of the 2024 season, the once positive relationship between the driver and his team principal was quickly deteriorating. frequent arguments about the car, snippy radio exchanges, and speculations from the press were only contributing to the snowball effect that was going to eventually lead to an inevitable avalanche. 

as lewis’ assistant, sometimes you wondered if you knew him better than he knew himself. over the years, you had practically learned everything under the sun about the british driver. of course, when he came back from qualifying a little quieter than usual, you figured something had happened in the paddock. 

you just couldn’t quite put your finger on what. 

often times, the two of you joked that you acted like an old married couple the way you bickered. yet, there was nothing as hurtful or spiteful as the exchange that happened minutes ago. part of you knew that he didn’t mean it, but part of you couldn’t let it go because of his inebriated state.

sometimes drunk words were just sober thoughts. 

“do you really think you don’t have to listen to me because of my status?” 

“no,” his voice is small, “i don’t think that.”

“then why did you say it?”

“i d-don’t know,” you can hear his voice falter, “i-i was just upset from earlier. i usually don’t lash out like that.”

a sniffle fills your ears, his chest heaving slightly. glancing up, you notice the glimmer of a tear as it slips down his cheek, the driver’s lip trembling.

“lewis,” the notes in your tone are gentle, “is everything okay?”

“no,” he shakes his head, “i-i’m sorry.”

“what’s wrong?”

“i do listen to you,” squeezing his eyes shut, he allows you to wipe away a tear, “i promise i listen to you. i don’t want you to ever feel like i don’t. i’m sorry, i’ve just had a lot on my mind lately and–”

“don’t worry about me,” tenderly, you caress his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb, “i promise that i will survive. maybe you can hook me up with someone on the grid, yeah?”

“i can’t do that.”

“why not?” you arch a brow. 

“because there is no one else i would want you with on that grid but me,” his eyes open, meeting yours, “i’m so upset because i hurt you. i have feelings for you, and seeing you hurt like that, it nearly split me into two.”

“lewis,” your breath hitches in your throat as he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, “i-i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“come on,” he tuts, “you know why you ended things with that guy. he was getting frustrated at how much time we were spending together. and in your heart, you know that you can’t stay away from me. the way you look at me, i know that you feel the same way. you wouldn’t learn how to do my favorite hairstyles if there wasn’t some sort of love there. you wouldn’t order my favorite food without asking if you didn’t care. you wouldn’t spend all of this time with me if you didn’t like me.”

“maybe i do, just a little bit.”

“only a little bit?” he cocks his head, “you can’t just admit you’re in love with me?”

“what if i was?”

“hmm,” he hums, his mouth only millimeters from yours, “i’d tell you i was in love with you too.”

“you would have to promise me something, though.”

“anything.”

“would you slow down a little on your lifestyle?” you inquire, slightly testing the waters to see how far you could go. 

“and what does that entail?” a hand finds its way to the base of your neck, warm and comforting as a breeze rolls through.

“would you quit going to the strip clubs? driving recklessly? living the fast life?”

“if it meant that it would make you happy and secure, yes,” the words are brimmed with authenticity, “i want to make you the happiest woman on earth. i’d do anything for you.”

“would you quit tomorrow?”

“oh love,” he chuckles, “i’ll quit this instant.”

“and i’ll keep taking care of you.”

“promise?” his voice softens, “you promise you’ll stick by my side? even after i leave mercedes?”

“i promise.”

the corners of his lips curl into a smug smirk, the driver leaning in even closer. 

“that only means we get to seal that promise with a kiss then, huh?”

[atiianeishaunted]

blue writing is lance's notes fyi anyway uhh character bios below !! long ass writing warning but worth it i promise chat pspsp | no notes version AND the transparent PNGS down at the end!

character bios:

Allura [???] | A lone princess who is burnt out and stressed out her mind, her only solace/stress relief being the garden she has where she can have peace and quiet, shutting her brain off while she does the tasks of tending to her precious plants and bugs. She tries her best to remain as friendly and optimistic as possible, if not for her own sanity, however thanks to the stress and pressure put on her, she has a tendency to lose her cool and sometimes shut down entirely. She has a passion for commanding and loves honing her fighting skills as that was one of the ways she bonded with her father. She more often than not can be seen in comfortable clothes, she doesnt mind dresses and does enjoy dressing up but will only do it when shes going out the castle or theres a meeting. | this gal couldve been an burnt out autistic queen DREAMWORKS, YOU COUDLVE MADE HER ICONIC .... let her be a dorky nerd whos a hater sometimes, pretty please

Takashi Shirogane | A garrison commander (no one is really sure of his job title to be honest with you..) who's insanely passionate about his job, to the point where hes willing to sacrifice it all if the garrison wills it. Anything to serve. He tries his best to fit in and be hip with the kids, he tries to come across as the 'chill' teacher, but students of his have reported that after a few months, any amount of chillness is thrown out the window. If not that, hes often not even in class, too busy doing missions he wasnt assigned to. He's intense. Very intense. Knows his way around words though for the most part, can be very convincing and a bit maniuplative, very goal driven. He means well though? Thats what he says. He always throws a quick sorry if someone brings it up with him, so that must mean something. | sorry in advance if you follow along with Sonder's story... unrelated but dreamworks wrote a banger antagonist without even realizing!

"Keith" Kogane / "Morse" | Unknown origins. He was a talented garrison pilot who could practically fly with his eyes closed, a jack of all trades, short tempered and prone to losing it but all things considered, the perfect cadet for the garrison's goals, he came out of nowhere practically, just poofed in like a ghost and wiped the floor with everyone. He really just needed a good guiding hand. No one is quite sure what gender he is, his androgynous appearance and tendency to respond to anything besides being called a girl have people baffled to say the least. He's very clearly not all there in the head either which goes hand in hand with his odd bursts of ego and then odd bursts of whining, these bursts often include talks that could only be described as cult-ish. People have their theories. Beyond those bursts, hes mostly very deadpan and quiet. But despite his strength and that intense feeling of fear and dread people get when they're around him, he's.. popular, somehow. Admired greatly for his devilish good looks. A universal appeal if you will. He doesn't seem to notice. Or perhaps doesnt care. Either way he's far too busy following Shiro around and treating him like the second coming of god to really indulge in romance for now. Lance's self proclaimed rival, Keith is also unaware of this. | also sorry in advance for this one if you follow sonder's storyline Lance McClain | A former Garrison cargo pilot who moved up in rank when Keith got kicked out. Keith is his rival and also all that Lance can talk about, even after the guy got kicked out and left for dead (Lance overheard some things while sneaking out past the teacher's lounge). He has a very noticable personality and loves to be the center of attention, hes still finding his footing and figuring out what he wants to do with his life and who he wants to be. Despite his many claims, hes not all that popular. He can't really flirt with girls all too well. His general goal is to be so well known so he won't ever be forgotten, hence why he begged his mom to let him dye his hair and get piercings (if he used Keith as an argument, thats none of your business.) (he saw keith dying his hair once or twice and instantly wanted to copy, its a bad habit.). He loves LOVES taking care of his appearance and is fairly vain, he has extensive routines and will freak out if he can't follow them. His ego and overbearing confidence is all to drown out his deep insecurities and fears. He tries his best to come across as a suave, cool, charming, awesome, any positive adjective really, person but in all reality he's a mama's boy, a dork, a loser if you will who has a love for the retro and is a huge gamer. If he must admit, he and Keith'd get along great actually, Keith ticks alot of boxes and honestly Lance deeply admires him and wants to be like him. | dreamworks dropped that lance was a gamer and loved retro stuff and then never talked about it again. sigh. Hunk Garrett | Hunk has many passions, mainly inspired by parents, he mainly specializes in cooking and mechanics, he enjoys tinkering with things, taking them apart to see how they work and working from there to see if he can rebuild it with 0 instruction, hes gotten good at it. He's Lance's childhood best friend, they're extremely close and are often seen constantly poking fun at eachother. Its all in good fun though. Hunk struggles extremely with anxiety and has a service dog back home that he left at home when heading to the Garrison as he worried he couldn't take care of it while studying. Despite his anxiety, he quite enjoys talking to people and sharing things he enjoys with them, he often tries to get over his fears by branching out and | I looked up his name from the old show because he deserves an 'actual' name, free my boy, he was done so dirty, also i remember when we all thought hunk had two moms (or was that just me ..) and i live by it tbh, two moms and a dad whos still active in his life, 3 whole parents for the greatest fella ever

Pidge Holt | Not much can be said about Pidge, they keep to themselves and don't share much about themselves. Just like Keith, their gender is often up to debate and when asked, Pidge will never give a consistent answer. They're a major tech wiz and with their talents, they're a complete menace. Pidge is prone to being mischevious and pranking others, often taking jokes a bit too far. They're egotistical and find that robots are their preferred companions in comparison to humans. | loser chronically online 13 year old who would tell you to kys, matt probably has to take away their electronics all the time LMFAO purposely made their outfit look a bit strange bc , theyre a kid whos a NERD /aff let them dress a bit stupid and let them cringe at it 5 years later ty

No notes version and PNGS below :-)

im insane about this reboot!! please reblog and im willing to elaborate if anyone wants me to <333 hrgfhrfg i really want this to take off bwaa

[paracosmic-collective]

Thought of making a tag for plurals since I thought it would be cool to share. It's #pluralsonder !

What does sonder mean?

The profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it.

Why do I choose the word?

That is because for everyone[including endogenic, mixed-origins, traumagenic, etc] all have different experiences. We go through something different. And even if they could be similar, the possibility of being exactly the same would honestly be hard to find. But never impossible.

Everyone has a life to share, a life to keep secret from, a life that may not be so exciting. We all should understand, that no one can know your brain and headmates, better than you.

This tag can be used for anything EXCEPT Syscourse or any hate related topics. I know I can't control what people use the tags for, but I would rather see the positive of this tag.

Oh goodness me, I talked too much. Uhhh... yeah.

[allisonlol]

HII !! could you do dazai, chuuya and fyodor with a s/o that forgot pretty much everything from their past/forgets a lot in the present due to trauma? if possible male reader, and if not gn works aswell! thank you :))

a/n: felt this req hard LOL

warnings: memory loss, past trauma (not elaborated on)

(Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor) With a S/O with Memory Loss From Trauma

Dazai

i feel like dazai can relate in some ways because he too has immense trauma but instead of forgetting it, he remembers it too well

therefore in a way he's grateful that ur brain is blocking those memories so u don't have to remember the pain

dazai had noticed your forgetful behavior the second he met you, and had already categorized it as due to trauma in your past

honestly finds your forgetfulness adorable but it also enrages him bc someone hurt you enough to cause it

simply does not comment on any of this though. if you mention that you forgot something that happened literally yesterday he'll simply smile at you (is that a hint of sadness in his expression?) and reassure u that it's okay

will text u updates throughout the day to make sure u aren't forgetting anything

pictures pictures pictures!!!! literally photographs everything u guys do together so you can always look back to remember :)

but unbeknownst to you, dazai will secretly do some deep digging into your past to find out exactly what happened and who to get revenge on <3

^trust me when i say they will deeply regret everything they had ever done to you

Chuuya

it's canon that chuuya can't remember what... the first 7 years of his life? so he totally understands

he won't question u at all abt the reasonings for your memory loss unless u wanted to talk abt it

does get worried abt your current forgetfulness though. with a job as strenuous as being in the mafia, having a good memory is important

^if any of the higher ups knew you weren't "sufficient enough" in that department, despite your other strengths, you would be disposed of

this added stress doesn't help you at all but chuuya does his best to keep you safe

^having a boyfriend who is also your executive is very useful in this aspect

leaves little notes and reminders on your desk so u won't forget anything important

hell, chuuya will even fill out reports for you if u were having trouble remembering the events that took place

i feel like he would also pay very close attention to everything u guys do together so, if you forgot, he would be able to tell you all about it

Fyodor

another one who categorized your memory loss as due to trauma the second he met you

unlike the others tho, he will question u about it

if you’re honest with him & say that it’s due to traumatic events, he’ll ask if you want him to do anything about it for you (in other words, find and eliminate the ones who caused it 😊)

^if you say no to this, he’ll nod and agree with u but secretly hunt them down on his own

however if you lie to fyodor and say that you’re just forgetful (not due to trauma) he’ll frown & keep asking probing questions until he gets the truth out of u

has he heard of privacy? like damn

^its out of love tho. not saying it’s right but fyodor shows his care by learning as much abt u as possible. he needs to know everything, good or bad

finds your current forgetfulness adorable, albeit irritating at times (remember who we’re talking abt here)

if you forgot an event or important piece of information he will get slightly annoyed with you & might say some insensitive things 😬

^tho once he sees that he’s upset you, fyodor will usually sigh and apologize

recommends u keep a journal for reminders, however he also logs all events that u do alone or together so you won’t forget in the future

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @scul-pted @exorcisedstraydog @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @dreaming-of-ambedo @nervousyetconfidentway @beautiful-is-boring @irethepotato @serenareiss @thescrunkly @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @disa-ster

[planete777]

WHAT YOU HEARD・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n senselessly drags lando for a swim at midnight, high and all. she just forgets to mention they'll do it naked.

WARNINGS. 16+, smoking and getting high (don't do drugs yall, this is just for entertainment purposes!), make outs, night skinny dipping, mentions of sexual activities, once again high hotness

NOTE. back again with the high!lando agenda. something about it just gets my brain all scrambled. anyways, as i said, don't do drugs, listen to 'what you heard' by sonder, and enjoy luvs <3 (wondering if i should make this a series.....)

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any thoughts, scenarios, requests etc about high!lando, or other tropes if u want. 🤍

--------------------------------------------------

even when he can't piece two cents of his thoughts to construct a legible sequence, lando is sure that, no matter the state he's in, y/n can persuade him to do whatever, as if her words were a siren's call. in his mind, she has this way of curling her tongue around every sentence she says, as if they're something so sweet, so good, and it beckons him closer, pathetically. yet, lando indulges in it like a fucking mad man, and every time he has to leave y/n, he finds himself itching for everything she makes him feel.

but, right here, right now, he'd rather lose himself in the swirling puffs of smoke that have him feeling he's levitating with it. sprawled on the girl's couch, legs and arms weightless and completely non existent, in a room that's so unsuspecting to delinquent dallying.

that's what makes him love her even more.

they're the same. from the wisp of their hairs to the tip of their toes, they both crave an escape from everything and everyone, and don't care how they get it. live a dual life of forced smiles to the world and adrenaline rushes from a drug that drains every feeling possible from their flesh, but could tip their lives on their heads without warning.

it's like their own little secret, and knows that if he were to tell anyone, they'd instantaneously talk him out of it. beg him that he could get hooked and spiral, yet he'll be damned if he allows himself to lose the only sanity he has with the girl that he's addicted to.

the breeze whispers on his skin, soothes it somewhat as the forecast had been cooler the whole day, and the spliff between his fingers remains an inch-long bud, incinerated away in mere hours. his eyes are ajar, just the tiniest bit, and remain trained on the open back sliding doors. watches as ripples glimmer and twinkle beneath the moon's shine upon the pool's surface and his mind undulates with the tentative viscosity of thick honey.

speakers drone whatever playlist y/n has chosen for the night, and he finds himself subconsciously tapping his fingers to the beat. nothing else but music needs to fill the room, each other's presence speaks for itself, and lando loves this unspoken normality between them.

he's on the brink of unconsciouness, rocking between the borders of sleep and awareness, but he's slowly justled awake as y/n walks up to him.

she gently grabs his arm, pulling him upright, "come."

his movements are slow and hesitant, "where we going?"

"swimming."

for a second his mind agrees, so he relents, but realising that he's wearing a tank top with jogging bottoms, and y/n the same but with leggings instead, he grows confused again.

he doesn't get time to question, mind too slow and sticky to even get further words out, as y/n lets go of his hand and turns to him.

then with speed that aches with tease, she tugs her top off, flinging it off to the side and lando stops breathing. he sees everything, how they curve and smooth back into the inward slope of her waist and he trembles so much that he has to clench his fist to urge it away. she's so beautiful drenched in blue, easing its way down her legs as she shrugs them off, and lando's eyes burn as they weld into every dip of her body.

"join me."

that's all she says, with that pretty smile on her face, before she swivels on her feet and dives into the water with much precision she barely marks a discrepancy upon the surface of the water. lando is hypnotised, barely moves from his place as she watches her glide and twirl in the water as if that's where she's meant to be, and then his body cries to join her.

it doesn't take long for him to hover next to y/n, right in the centre of the pool. the cool water washes some highness away, but they're both inebriated enough to retain the red glaze in their eyes and slow movements. lando's sick, seeing y/n so etheral in nothing, looking at him as if she wants him flowing through his veins, and he no longer fights the impulse to get closer and gather her in his arms. she smiles, wide and white, circling her arms around his neck before jumping on his waist. he fumbles slightly, with a huffed out laugh, then her thighs are tight around his hips and he can feel everything.

"you're hard already?" she asked, amused. her hand plays with the curls on his neck and he feels like he's dissolving.

"do you blame me? look at you."

"well," her finger traces his chest, light and completely burning, "we're not fucking in my pool."

he chuckles, figures cum is a hard thing to clean out of water, "at least let me eat you out?"

she pretends to think, "maybe later, but right now, i want you to fucking kiss me."

lando doesn't waste time doing so, lips pushing into hers with great urgency as if it's his last kiss on earth. y/n's mouth is wet, warm, sweet and so inherently y/n that lando moans, deep and loud, sliding his tongue deeper. it's not enough, not the kiss, nor the way her body radiates immense heat directly into his, and lando craves to be one with her. absorb into y/n, like a water to a sponge, and remain there forever.

air runs out, way too quickly for lando's liking, and y/n moves her head back, half closed eyes staring back at him. he's hot, bothered, hungry for so much more, and squeezes the flesh of her thighs to suppress just how much his flesh aches for her.

"i want to have you so bad," y/n sighs out, a splayed hand flush against lando's chest, and oh does he want her to completely take him. do whatever she wants, however she wants. he craves to say so much but his mind can only come up with so little.

"then fucking have me, y/n."

[tender-rosiey]

HOW THEY KISS (JJK!) — bsd vr:

a/n: why hello there; I hope everyone has been doing well <3

GOJO SATORU: he is so passionate and playful even while he is kissing you. he loves you wholeheartedly, and he shows it through his kisses. however, would he still be gojo if he didn’t tease you? a couple of sweet words here and there from him with a super annoying smirk plastered on his face, who’s clearly enjoying how much you want him then you who pulls him in once again and him, happily, letting you take the lead, “you taking the lead is just so hot to me.”

NANAMI KENTO: he is gentle and shows you how much he cherishes you through his kisses. the way his hand cups your cheek and caresses it tenderly. he is moving so slowly, so sensually, wanting to feel you and make you know just how much you’ve made him feel from love and what not. so don’t be surprised when his hold turns just a little firm and one of his arms slip around your waist, and he is out of breath, “you— are going to drive me insane.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA: he is possessive and rough and it translates to his kisses as well. his fingers tangle themselves in your hair and tug slowly you even closer while he lightly nips at your bottom lip. you hear him groan about wanting more, “you think that’s enough?” he can never get enough and you’ve learned that multiple times especially with the way he pulls you back in and his lips claim your own hungrily, but hey, are you complaining?

GETO SUGURU: just like his best friend, he is playful but he is still so tender and loving through his kisses. he chuckles softly, rubbing your noses together but ultimately gives in when he sees the cute pout on your face. lips connecting with your own, and you can feel him smile through the kiss and when he pulls away you hear the softest, “I love you, so much.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI: the type to leave you out of breath and chasing his lips again. he doesn’t give you time, from one kiss to another. he wants you as close as possible and as soon as possible, and through that he can get just a little rough with the way his hand is firmly on your waist and the other one is resting on your nape, “good; that’s how you do it, doll,” he would murmur before leaning in once again.

CHOSO: he is careful. very soft and gentle as not to hurt you. he is the type to press soft pecks on your cheeks before moving to your lips, but not to tease. he simply adores you and wants you to know it and see it. his hand can’t help but find yours and to entangle his fingers with your own, “are you okay?” he asks to make sure you’re comfortable and the intimacy of the act just melts his heart and he is content having you so close.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @bakugossanity @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @fiona782 @ginneko @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be smacked

[osunism]

Crystalline

Eyes meet, you know where this goes Her keys in, they take off their clothes They're soaking, caught in a dream Her skin shines, like crystalline —The Midnight, "Crystalline"

🪧 Summary: On the night Yuji Itadori consumes Sukuna’s Finger, Satoru finds a familiar face at the epicenter of a shocking discovery. Takes place three months after If. 🔞 Rating: Explicit ⚠️ Be Advised: Explicit sexual situations, recreational drug use, descriptions of violence, blood mention. ❤️‍🔥 Pairing: Satoru x Sundari [🧿👹]

🔏 This is a commissioned fic by the lovely @septembersums. With her permission, I finally get to post this fic so folks can understand how Satoru and his goddess met. September was kind enough to see my vision and bring it to life in her gorgeous writing style as part of my growing Parallax 'verse. She's an absolute joy to work with and talk to and I highly recommend commissioning a fic writer to bring your vision to life! September's AO3 <- Support her work too!

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Fic Masterlist 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 HCs & Meta ⛩️

       Satoru is getting bored. 

         As much as he loves shopping, and he does love shopping, even Satoru has a limit when it comes to how long he can wander between food stalls browsing the options. Although boredom might not be the best word for it. Restlessness, maybe. 

         He’s been idling away the hours while he waits for Megumi to call with news that he’s secured another of Sukuna’s fingers. It’s a difficult job for a first year, considering how cursed spirits tend to flock to the cursed fingers, but Satoru is fairly confident Megumi can handle it.

         If not, Satoru will just teleport there as soon as he senses danger. Simple, easy. In theory, it shouldn’t go wrong. That idea does little to quieten down the sense of unease settling into Satoru. There’s something in the air tonight, something that tastes like intuition, something that feels off.

         Satoru attempts to shake the unnatural anxiety by purchasing some more kikufuku. Sweets usually help when he gets a bad feeling like this, which is a decidedly rare occurrence. Even with his impulsive spending, the feeling persists, and it gets stronger. He considers teleporting himself straight to Sendai to see what’s causing it but ultimately decides against it. He’ll know if something happens. 

         A shiver runs down his spine while he’s standing in front of a food truck that sells crepes, and he knows that his intuition was right. In an instant, he’s standing at the peak of a skyscraper, looking over the city. The wind whips at his loose-fitting clothes and his hair, as he pulls his blindfold down to get a good look at the situation at hand. 

         What he sees makes no sense whatsoever. It raises the fine hair at the back of his neck, makes the skin of his arms prickle with goosebumps. 

         Gaze cast towards Sendai, he sees something there— a ripple of cursed energy that looks like Sukuna, but much smaller and less destructive than one would expect of a freshly incarnated Sukuna. It’s a threat, whatever it is, and there’s no question about that, but it’s nothing compared to the other surge of cursed energy in the distance. 

Sendai is a blip on his radar in comparison to the potential nuclear explosion of cursed energy he sees building in Tokyo.

         A massive, ever-swelling fog of cursed energy covers an entire block, settling over the street like a storm cloud. The longer he looks at it, the bigger it grows. 

         It makes little sense, considering that he knows something significant just happened to one of the cursed fingers in Sendai, but it looks like Sukuna himself just appeared in Tokyo. A fully formed Sukuna with all of his power, decidedly unlike the tiny hints of it he catches when he’s near the fingers. 

         This is the real fucking thing— full-fledged, entirely unregulated, a ticking time bomb of a person who will detonate and kill hundreds of people if they aren’t contained and controlled quickly. 

         “How the fuck is Sukuna in two places at once?” Satoru hisses to himself. Not even Satoru could manage something like that. 

         Two threats, two people that he needs to keep away from the higher-ups and whoever else might be looking for an incarnated Sukuna. One, however, is a much bigger problem than the other. 

         A hypnotic bassline thrums in Sundari's ears, a familiar feeling that she normally loves. Right now, though, it’s too much. Something within her is changing, shifting, pulsating— growing. It feels like she’ll be torn apart by the surge of strength within herself, as she stumbles away from the dancefloor filled with gyrating bodies and into the bathroom. 

         Her breaths are labored, pulse racing, as she nearly doubles over against the wall. She’s drunk, sure, and she’s taken a few party drugs just to keep the night going, but she doesn’t feel right. Something’s fucking wrong, but she doesn’t feel bad. No, she feels good. She feels strong, a lot more so than usual. 

         The bathroom is empty right now, which is a shocker at a rave like this, but she’s thankful for it. Nobody needs to see her like this— panting, as the power within her claws and grips at her insides. It just grows, and grows, and grows. With a rough rasp, she stumbles over to the sink to look at herself in the mirror. 

         It might be the drugs talking, but something about her face doesn’t look right. She blinks a few times at the shifting, moving image reflected back at her.

         The scars underneath her eyes aren’t scars anymore. They’re eyeballs. Four of them. She squints at herself, leaning closer to get a better look.

         She should not have four fucking eyes right now. 

         Sundari has tried a lot of shit, but nothing that’s ever warped her perception like this. The extra eyes blink in tandem with her own, and she can somehow see through them. It’s disorienting, the shift in perspective, but her vision is only getting better as she acclimates to it. 

         “The fuck?” She mumbles, gripping onto the sink for balance.

         The porcelain shatters under her grip, and water floods into the bathroom. She’s always been strong— a good fighter, a damn good fighter. She even makes money off of it on the side, but she shouldn’t be that strong. She needs to get the hell out of here before she breaks something else, or worse. She can’t imagine what would happen if she bumped into someone right now with her newfound superhuman strength.

         She leaves the bathroom in a rush, stumbling at first as she ascends the dark stairwell that leads out of the underground rave and back into the streets of Tokyo. With every step, she miraculously seems to be sobering up. The metal door leading outside warps when she shoves it open. Fuck.

The cool night air feels better than it did inside. She inhales deeply, sighing audibly as she leans against the brick wall behind her.

         “Huh. You’re not Sukuna,” a familiar voice drawls from her left.

         She whips her head around to see who’s talking to her when she’s having the worst trip of her life, only to see a face she knows all too well. The wickedly pretty boy she hunted in the club a few months ago, not someone she expected to see tonight. He’s leaning against the wall next to her with his arms crossed, eyeing her warily. 

         “Nah— Sundari, but I thought you knew that,” she snaps back, a little annoyed to see him again right now of all times. “What are you doing here?” 

         “I do know that, but I didn’t expect to see you here either,” he argues, arms still crossed. “I should’ve known those seals on your back were for something big, but I didn’t think it was this big. Sukuna’s daughter, huh?”

         “The fuck are you talking about?” She asks, temper flaring.

         Maybe it’s the newfound strength she’s gaining, but this cryptic, confusing conversation is wearing on at her nerves. Something fucking big is happening to her— the last thing she needs right now is a weird conversation with a guy she fucked a few months ago. 

         “Come with me to my place, and I’ll explain it all,” he offers casually. “It’s a lot safer there than it is here for you. Lots of people are going to want to get their hands on you with all the power you’re gaining right now, and I promise you— I’m the one you want to end up with.”

         “You don’t know anything about me. Why would I go anywhere with you?” She snaps, pushing off of the wall with a little too much strength behind it. 

         The brick crumbles, leaving a sizable crater.

         Satoru looks between the crater and her eyes, as if that proves his point. 

         “You really want to deal with this without any information about what’s happening? What happens when you shove past a stranger on the street and break half of their bones? Or use your technique by accident and kill off a whole city block?”

         She hisses out a couple curses, weighing her options. Her decision is only really made when a fractal of a memory slams into her subconscious, and she relives it like a dream she’s forgotten. 

         The Godslayer, they called her. A monstrosity falling apart underneath her four hands, as she rips it to shreds. Worship, and her mother’s avoidance. 

         “Fuck,” she hisses. What the fuck was that?

         As far as options go, it’s looking slim right now. She could either trust this guy, or she could do exactly what he said when this keeps happening, and she can’t control her own strength. She doesn’t want to hurt people— not innocent people— not if she can help it.

         “What’s it gonna be, Sundari?” He pressures her.

         “Fine, fuck, let’s go,” she says. 

         He reaches out a hand to her, and she takes it begrudgingly. 

         Missing pieces of Sundari’s life start to come together within the next few days. Satoru explains some things to her, like Sukuna, and how she must be his daughter or something similar to have inherited this power from him. Nadja always kept her father a secret from her, a piece of the past that she never wanted to unearth.

         The memories come back in waves, usually when she sleeps. Little bits and pieces that don’t make sense when separated but start to form a clearer picture when she puts them together. She’s a lot older than she thought she was, given that she was worshiped at some point a very, very long time ago. For a number of years that she can’t begin to quantify, Sundari’s power has been sealed away, locked inside of her and restricted, as she’d lived her life like a normal person.

         Satoru explains that Sukuna was recently incarnated somewhere else, and the seal was broken, which explains why she was suddenly able to break sinks, walls, and doors with her bare hands. The four eyes are hard to get used to, but at least the extra arms haven’t shown up yet.

         Now, she’s here in Satoru’s house, being fiercely guarded day and night like some sort of prisoner. Apparently, she’s in grave danger right now, as if shit wasn’t weird enough without that added layer of stress. Satoru’s the strongest sorcerer, which he told her very arrogantly, and his entire job is killing curses like her father, and possibly like her.

         It’s been tense. Sundari isn’t naive enough to think that she’s entirely safe with Satoru, seeing as he wants to kill her dad because he’s too powerful. Where does that leave Sundari at the end of this? She hates being guarded and coddled like a child, like she’s something that needs to be contained and controlled, rather than a person.

         She’s fucking stressed, and she can’t sleep without these dreams of her long-forgotten past haunting her. She doesn’t necessarily blame Satoru for needing to kill Sukuna— he’s chaos incarnate, he’ll kill thousands of people if he isn’t stopped.

         Somewhere deep inside of herself, Sundari is afraid. She’s afraid that Sukuna’s innate violence is lurking beneath her skin, waiting to come out when she doesn’t expect it. Afraid that if she’s left to her own devices, if she gets angry or upset, she’ll become like him. Her memories and Satoru’s stories do enough to remind her of what her father has done, of what she’s capable of if she doesn’t control herself.

         But she can control herself. She’s not a loose cannon waiting to be muzzled. Satoru might not see it yet, but she can.

         She doesn’t dare mention her feelings to Satoru. Not yet at least. He’s been nice to her while she’s staying here, he didn’t even make a fuss about it when she accidentally broke a door of its hinges trying to open it, but how much can she trust him? Not enough to reveal her deepest, darkest fears, that’s for fucking sure. 

         It takes Sundari a week to gain full control of her own strength. Like an astronaut that’s just come back from Mars, it takes her a while to settle into herself and feel comfortable with her own body’s limitations again. She knows not to push too hard on doors or rip the handles off of the sink.

         Muscle memory from the distant past is kicking in to help her contain her technique. At first, her cursed energy was a serious problem that was only contained by the seals Satoru has around his house. Now, she’s maintaining it herself so well that even Satoru was shocked to see it.

         The issue now is the weird tension between the two of them. Satoru’s helpful, but she can see the hunger in his eyes when he takes off the blindfold. She feels it within herself, too, now that she can focus on it without worrying so much about her own strength. Something unfinished and unspoken, leftover from the last time they were together. It was a good night, he was a good fuck, and that was supposed to be the end of it.

         Now, they’re living together, and despite the domesticity of that, she still can’t trust him. So, like any reasonable person, she comes up with an idea of how their get over the uncanny tension, or at least make it bearable.

         “Do you have any weed around here?” She asks, as they’re sitting on the couch together, silently watching some movie she’s not paying attention to.

         Satoru turns his head slowly to look at her, intrigue written on his features. God, he’s pretty. A little too fucking pretty— it makes sense that he’s as powerful as her, given that he looks like that.

“I could get some,” he answers nonchalantly.

         Sundari smiles, and maybe they’ll work out their differences after all. Even now, she struggles to be wary of him, he’s so smooth with his words. He matches her wit with ease and returns it just the same. They’re too similar— a little arrogant, both of them, but she doesn’t see it as a bad thing. She sees it as a challenge.

         Satoru does come back with some weed a few minutes later, and she struggles to watch him roll a joint— he’s good at everything, apparently, but not that.

         “God, you’re bad at that. Let me do it,” she says, frowning as she takes the half-rolled, uneven thing out of his hands.

         “I was getting there,” he pouts, rolling his eyes.

         “You really weren’t,” she teases, which draws a smirk out of him. He likes it when she talks back, she’s realized.

         Satoru watches with a catlike grin, as she fixes it for him. Her eyes lock with his as she runs her tongue over the smooth paper, before flattening it down to make a perfectly cylindrical joint. His eyes flicker between her lips and her own when she presses it between her lips and leans toward him, waiting for a light.

         He lights it, and she feels a thousand times better as soon as she inhales. Something to calm the nerves a little bit, it helps a lot, and he has money and connections enough to get some good shit.

         Maybe it’s a little too good, actually. They’re both on the moon talking about nothing, passing it between each other and laughing at each other’s jokes. He’s funny, she thinks, as she’s looking at him. The nerve of him to be hot and funny. He’s trying to explain his technique to her, but she’s lost before he gets half of it out.

         “Bet I could take you,” she says, relaxing with her head in her palm, as she sits a little closer to him than she realizes.

         “In a fight?” He asks, teasing and a little flirtatious.

         She grins. “Yeah, in a fight.”

         “Bet you couldn’t,” he argues.

         She’s not one to lose fights, and she tells him about it. The Yakuza pays her good money to fight in underground rings, and they wouldn’t hedge their bets on her if she lost. Satoru counters it by telling her that he’s never lost a fight— maybe for a second or two, but he always comes out on top.

         “Really? Last time I saw you, you didn’t end up on top at all,” she teases him, remembering the way she made him beg to fuck her.

         “That was an ambush,” he says. “You just caught me off guard. Won’t happen again, trust me.”

         “Yeah? We’ll see about that, Satoru. I’m disappointed you didn’t actually knock my IUD loose if you’re that strong.”

         “We can always try again.” 

         Satoru is a fucking flirt, a huge one, and she’s starting to like it. Maybe it’s a little Stockholm Syndrome, because they’ve been living together for weeks now, but she’s starting to actually like him. Before, they could’ve fucked again and went their separate ways, and that would be all there is to it.

         But now…

         Now, she doesn’t know. It’s just so easy to fall into a routine with him, to forget the situation and enjoy hanging out with him, despite the looming threat that he might try to kill her someday if she ever loses control.

        There’s chemistry between the two of them, chemistry that’s growing and changing with every day that they spend together. She’s never been one to fall in love or get attached for long, always too ready to move onto the next thing to get caught up in feelings.

         But all of these little moments between them during their time together are adding up, piling on top of each other, until whatever it is between them feels like more. His hand on the small of her back when he passes by her, a gentle touch here and there when she starts to spiral, even a hug one time.

         He says “Morning, beautiful” when she’s just rolled out of bed, curls sticking up in every direction and a sour look on her face. Always with a sarcastic drawl and a shit-eating grin on his face.

         She usually just rolls her eyes about it, but maybe she likes it a little. And he’s funny— the fucking nerve of him to look like that and be funny. She’s never met a man that can make her laugh like he does.

         The way he looks at her now— it’s more than fleeting affection. His gaze is lovestruck. She never thought the icy blue color of his eyes could look so warm. She misses him when he’s gone, and he always gives her the biggest grin when he comes back. Mutual attraction has blossomed and thickened. It’s been weeks of this now, and they’re unlikely friends. 

         They give each other shit when neither of them can seem to say something nice, but when she looks at him, her insides feel tight, like she can’t breathe. She can tell he feels it, too, by the way that he always wants to be close to her. He’ll make any excuse to sit next to her, to put his arm around the back of the couch when they’re smoking together, which has become a little bit of a ritual now. It makes it easier to forget their circumstances and just talk, which they somehow end up doing for hours.

         He always says how much he likes her curls, how much he likes the look on her face when she gets a wicked idea, her smart mouth and her attitude. He likes the way she dances, likes the way her body moves when she’s drunk, and the music is loud.

         She sees the way he looks at her, sees the way he takes care of her when she’s struggling with the memories that won’t leave her alone. They’re coming back thicker now, heavier than they were before. She feels haunted by it all, haunted by the life that she’s lived in complete ignorance to what she really is.

         More than anything, she’s haunted by her father. Sukuna, the worst human-turned-curse that has ever existed, at least in Japan. Why did her mother fall for him? For a fucking monster? And where does that leave Sundari?

         She knows herself; she knows that she can be destructive, she can be cruel. There’s an ache inside of her that longs for violence, an itch that she used to scratch with cage-fights and beating the living fuck out of men who abused sex workers, in her past life. She knows now that even if her causes were righteous and good, she enjoyed it.

         The blood, the violence, the chance to unleash the demon within herself that she knows is there. It’s just beneath her skin.

         In a moment of self-collapse, she tells Satoru the truth.

         “I never wanted to be his daughter,” she says, curled in on herself in her vulnerability, knees pressed to her chest. “I do my fucking best to not be destructive like he is, but everyone— your higher-ups, whoever the fuck else, they’ll only ever see me for these.”

         She gestures to the thick bands of black ink around her wrists.

         “I’ll never be free from people who want to control me for it. I can’t even fucking hide them like he can,” she mutters, frustrated and angry. “And even if I like you, I can’t stay here forever, so what do we do when this is over?”

         “You could work with me,” Satoru offers quietly from where he sits beside her.

         He doesn’t invade her space; he knows that she wouldn’t want him to right now. Instead, he sits with her, and he listens. Patiently, quietly— he doesn’t talk over her, he doesn’t give her solutions unless she asks for them. He’s kind to her, gentle with her when he can tell that she needs it.

         She has no fucking clue what to do with that.

         “And everyone we work with will only ever see me as a monster,” she answers, shaking her head.

         “Maybe, but you don’t have to prove them right,” he says. “You’re nothing like him, Sundari. I’ve talked to him, I’ve seen him. You’re less destructive than you think you are, and you make an effort to be good, to do the right thing. That’s what matters, that’s what makes the two of you so different. He wants violence, you want to control yourself and do the right thing.”

         “Does it matter? Will anyone other than you ever believe me?”

         She looks at the tattoos and despises them, wishes she could scrub them from her skin. This isn’t what she’s ever wanted to be. It wasn’t ever her choice, but the world will treat her like it was.

         “They will if you prove them wrong,” he says.

         A moment of silence lapses between the two of them, as they sit together in the living room, quiet and ruminating. Sundari’s frustration feels like fire in her veins. Even now, she’s struggling to contain everything within her. Her body isn’t big enough to fit all of this power inside it without an outlet.

         “What if we tested it out?” She asks, looking up at him, an idea on the tip of her tongue. “Just a little fight between the two of us— let me see if I can control it without breaking everything and losing control.”

         Satoru’s lips curve up into a hint of a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that.”

         She realizes that she’s falling for him in that moment, that all of this forced cohabitation has become something more to her, something that tastes like love on her tongue, even when she can’t bring herself to say it.

         Instead, she says, “Okay. Just don’t cry about it too much when I win.”

         “Ha, I could say the same to you,” he answers, and she knows his words taste like love, too. 

         It’s a friendly fight, Satoru reminds himself, as Sundari lunges for him again. She’s fast— faster than he imagined she would be, and she’s good. Resilient, too. She doesn’t wear down easily— her cursed energy is still thrumming through the air after half an hour of hand-to-hand combat.

         Her fighting style is unique, foreign to Satoru. She wasn’t trained in Japan, that much is clear, based on the way that she moves. The hand signs that she uses when she activates her technique against his are ones he’s never seen before.

         It wears him down to keep up with her unfamiliar movements. If he were anyone else, he’d have lost this fight half an hour ago due to the way she continues to periodically drain his cursed energy.

         But Satoru isn’t just anybody. His reserves are infinite, and he can tell that she’s realizing that, based on the scowl she’s sporting.

         “C’mon, Sundari— stop holding back,” he taunts her, after barely dodging one of her well-timed punches. She’s strong.

And she looks fucking good with a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, whipping around to dodge when he teleports behind her and aims a blow to the middle of her back. She almost blocks it, but he’s quicker than even her eyes can track. It lands, a punch straight to the chest, which sends her flying backwards into a tree.

         That should be the end of it, he thinks, when she gets back up with a wild, feral smile on her face. A little bit of blood trickles down from her lip, and for some god-forsaken reason, his pants feel a little tighter. She lunges for him again, and again. It’s a miss, but she manages to put him on the defensive again. He lifts up into the air to avoid a kick, and she drags him back down, which he counters with an elbow.

         “Stop fucking running if you think I’m holding back,” she taunts him in turn, before he sends her flying off out of view for a split second.

         He thinks that surely another hit like that will make her surrender. God, they’ve been at it all morning. His pulse is racing— he’s never fought anyone as strong as she is. It’s a fucking rush. The blood in his body doesn’t know if it should focus on his brain or his dick. Sundari fights like a warrior, like a goddess.

         She emerges from the tree line with two extra arms extending from her shoulder blades. She rolls them out, unphased at the changes to her body. There’s an extra mouth on her exposed stomach with sharp teeth, grinning at him with the same expression as the one on her face.

         His blood is definitely headed to his dick. That is a goddess. A vengeful, wild goddess. Her curls have come undone, fanning out around her beautifully, while she practically glows with cursed energy. Satoru has wanted her for weeks now, he’s wanted her since he first saw her again, but right now? Satoru needs her.

         He needs to see his goddess sprawled out beneath him, hot and sweaty and snapping at him with her sharp teeth, crying out for more as he fucks her. He wants to feel all four of her arms on him, pulling him in closer, he wants the extra mouth to lick him while his tongue is down her throat.

         She’s on him before he can blink, and this time— he doesn’t hold back.

         The blows shared between them are so rapid, neither has time to think. The sounds of skin meeting skin with dull thuds and their heavy, panting breaths are the only noises to be heard. He can barely regenerate his cursed energy at the same speed that she withers it away, and he realizes distantly that he might have never felt as alive before.

         One failed movement, and he’s on top of her. His own goddess is hissing out curses underneath him, struggling against his strength as he pins her down to the dewy, wet grass beneath them.

         “Yield,” he demands, voice low and breathless.

         “Fuck you,” she spits back, locking her legs around his waist to try and flip him. He doesn’t budge, not this time. There’s only one thing on his mind.

         “Yield, Sundari,” he says again, this time with a coaxing warmth.

         All four of her eyes are wide, pupils dilated to the point that her garnet eyes look black. She still struggles against him, but she’s slowing down, realizing how close they are. Very close, at that. Satoru’s on top of her with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pressed against her at every intimate junction with his fingers fastened around two of her wrists.

         Her other arms have receded back into her, given the position they’re in and the shift of the mood.

         “I said fuck you,” she repeats herself, quieter this time, as her eyes flit between his own and his lips. “I’m not yielding.”

         “You sure?” He murmurs, as his nose brushes hers. “You look like it. You look like you want to.”

That reignites some of her flame, but she pours it into a different approach this time. Always one to move first, she leans up to crash her lips into his. Satoru returns it with even more ferocity, tongue sweeping between her teeth as he presses her down into the grass, groaning against her lips.

         It’s frantic, feverish, the way that she’s tugging at his clothes, and he’s tugging at hers. His cock throbs against the confines of his briefs, as he’s yanking her athletic shorts down her legs and moving his attention to her neck. She nearly growls when he sinks his teeth into her skin, sucking a bruise into the side of her neck.

         She meant it when she said she wasn’t submitting to him, he realizes, as she flips them over with the practiced ease of a fighter, situating herself on top of him. Her hand slips underneath his shirt, desperate for touch and seeking more, more, more of it.

         “Ready to start begging again, Satoru? You did it so well last time,” She purrs, grinning wickedly, as she scrapes her teeth against his collarbone, eager to slip lower.

         “Ha, in your fucking dreams,” he says, before slamming her onto her back.

         She gasps, but he knows she can take it. He’s been fighting with her for an hour and tossed her into more than a few tree trunks, she can handle it. If the wide-eyed look on her face is any indication, she likes it. One hand around her throat, he slips the other down her body and between her thighs to feel her wetness. And god, she’s soaking.

         Circling her clit with his fingertips, he smiles down at her and knows that he looks just as feral as she does. She writhes underneath him, back arching.

         “You got me once, baby. I’ll give you that,” he admits breathlessly, slipping two fingers inside to draw out a strangled moan. “But this time, you’re gonna fucking beg for it. You’re going to tell me how bad you want me to fuck you, and I’ll think about it if you ask nice enough.”

         “You—You’re a fucking dick,” she says, but it’s hard to talk when she’s moaning. “Not begging, not doing it.”

         “Yeah?”

         He knows how she likes it; he remembers her body well. Her pussy sucks in his fingers greedily, as he wraps a hand around her throat and squeezes.

         “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs reverently, honestly. “You’re such a brat too, but you’re gonna take it so good for me, aren’t you? Telling me what a fucking dick I am, while you’re this wet for me?”

         “Fuck you,” she says, but it’s a whine more than anything.

         She’s getting close, he can tell. The adrenaline still pumping through her veins makes it easier to get close without him having to work for it. He’ll edge her time and time again until she’s a mess, slick and wet and crying for him. He traces the tattoos along her chest with his fingertips when he finally releases her throat, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers. Her walls constrict around his fingers, but he retreats before she can cum.

         One, two, three times. He brings her to the edge until she’s all but snapping at him, hissing out curses and whines.

         “Say please, Sundari,” he murmurs, low and taunting. “Say please, and I’ll make you cum. I’ll make you cum so hard— I know you want it, you’re so wet for me.”

         “Fuck— Fuck,” she mewls, rocking her hips against his fingers, as if he’ll let her cum. “Please— Please? Please, Satoru,” she finally relents.

         “Good fucking girl,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her, as he finally lets her stumble over the edge. “So fucking good for me,” he coos against her lips, as she spasms beneath him, whining and humping his fingers through her orgasm.

         The shockwaves of it barely have time to end before he’s slipping his cock into her warmth, hissing out a breath at the way she sucks him in. So wet, and so tight. He can’t help himself, can’t wait a second for her to adjust to his length, he sets a brutal pace in fucking her.

         “So fucking good,” he growls against her lips, biting her lower one until he can taste her blood. “That’s it— fucking take it, take all of it.”

         He maneuvers her over onto all fours, pressing a hand down to the apex of her spine to force her into a severe arch, as she moans incoherently beneath him. The sound of his hips flush against her ass makes him bite his lip, muscles tensing and flexing involuntarily as he tries to hold back from finishing inside her. She’s about to cum, he can tell, but not without permission.

         “Beg for it, tell me how much you fucking want it,” he demands, moving to cover her body with his own, murmuring in her ear. “Know you want it; know you want me to fill up your pussy— don’t you?”

         “Yes— yes— please,” she whines, and Satoru’s ego swells to new heights upon seeing this goddess falling apart underneath him.

         “That’s it, just like that— don’t stop— tell me how much you fucking need it,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, tugging her earlobe between his teeth.

         And she does— she begs beautifully, knees buckling as she trembles through another orgasm. Satoru chases her down to the ground, slamming himself into her over and over again until his entire body seizes up with pleasure. He bites down hard on her shoulder when he comes, filling her up with every drop of his cum.

         The two of them stay like that for a while to catch their breath, still half-clothed and panting against each other in the crater they just fucked into the earth.

         “Still a dick,” she reminds him, which draws a chuckle out of him.

         “You yielded, didn’t you?” He says arrogantly, kissing the nape of her neck as he pulls off of her.

         “You’re hearing things,” she says, sitting up to readjust her top. “I never surrendered to you, and I never will. At least, not in a fight.” She winks at him, and he smiles back at her.

         Fuck, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with her.

         Later that night after a shower and some food, Sundari sleeps in Satoru’s bed for the first time. It feels natural, after all they’ve done. They fucked again after that— inside, this time, rather than outside in the wet grass. Neither of them broached the topic of feelings, but they both know it’s there. Something intangible but real settling between the two of them.

         After such a long day, she falls asleep almost immediately, only to be plagued by dreams again.

         This one, however, is different from the rest.

         She’s standing in her hometown, far from Japan and Satoru and everything else. Back in her old life, where she was The Godslayer, dressed in the trappings of a demigoddess worshiped by her people. This isn’t uncommon in her dreams, but she has an unexpected visitor in this one.

         A monk, it seems. His hair is black and long, silky as he moves toward her with a deceptively serene smile on his face. Stitches sit on his forehead, which draws her attention and makes her wary.

         “Sundari,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you. Gojo Satoru has made it exceedingly difficult to reach you in the past few months.”

         Immediately, she’s suspicious. Whoever this monk is, she doesn’t like the energy he emanates. She doesn’t like the look on his face— so calm, so unbothered, he must be hiding something.

         “And what do you want?” She asks, straight to the point.

         He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want something from her. Satoru warned her that the higher-ups of the jujutsu society might not be the only people that are looking for her. This monk strikes familiarity somewhere within her, as if she’s seen him before but can’t remember it for some reason.

         “Still as blunt as ever, I see,” he says, sitting next to her. “I have a proposition for you.”

         “Of course you do.”

         “Sukuna has returned, as has your power,” he says. “Do you know why you were sealed?”

         She grits her teeth, unwilling to answer. He knows something that she doesn’t, but she’s not naive enough to be tempted by whatever he’s offering until she knows what he wants in exchange for it.

         “I’ll take that as a no,” he says in her silence. “There are so many mysteries surrounding you, most of which are unknown even to you. Your father, who he is and how you came to be. The seals on your back, an entire life lived that you can only remember bits and pieces of.”

         She thinks of her mother in that moment. Nadja would know, she’s certain. The monk has piqued her curiosity— of course she wants to know who she was before her memories disappeared, and of course she wants to know about her father, even if she’d never admit it aloud.

         If she had to ask anyone, it would be her mom.

         Seemingly reading her mind, the monk laughs. “Nadja thinks of you as a child, even after all these years. She’d never tell you anything.”

         “And I’m guessing you can,” she says, annoyed at this long-winded speech.

         “Correct,” he agrees. “I can reveal it all to you, shed light on every shadow in your life. I’ve watched you closely since you were born, Sundari. I even helped to put those seals on your back after you slaughtered that town.”

         Sundari’s eyes grow wide, horrified at the implication.

         “What do you want?” She demands again.

         “I want your cooperation in the coming days,” he offers nonchalantly. “Sukuna will regain his full power sooner rather than later, and he’ll fight alongside me in an… event that I’m planning. You could meet him for yourself, let him tell you about his relationship with Nadja, and I could fill in all of those blank spots that you can’t stop obsessing over.” 

         “So, you want to have control over me when you do something big and fucked up in the future,” she says with an eyeroll. “Got it.”

         She seemingly cannot stop running into people that want to control her or collar her. Even Satoru isn’t immune to that. As much as she likes to live in the fantasy of their relationship, she knows that his goal at the end of this is to contain her. In that way, he’s not so different to the monk.

         “I want to work with you,” he corrects her. “In exchange, you’ll know everything, including your father. I know you’re not interested now, you think you have other options, so I’ll give you time. When you realize that I’m the only source for uncovering the mysteries your mother keeps from you, I’ll find you. Until then, Sundari.”

         He presses a hand to her shoulder, a way of saying goodbye, and she wakes with a sharp gasp, bolting upright in the bed.

         Satoru is awake in an instant, eyeing her warily in the darkness. 

         “Nightmare?” He asks groggily. 

         For a moment, she considers keeping it to herself, just in case. Deep inside, she knows that even if Satoru likes her— even if he loves her— his ultimate goal is not so different to the monk. He wants to control her; he wants her freedom. She’s given it to him by agreeing to stay here willingly for so long, why should she offer up more of herself to someone who will use her like a pawn? 

         They all do. That’s all she is to them. Whether it’s the monk, or Satoru, or the higher-ups, or her mother— they want to own her, to contain her. They want her collared and docile, so that she doesn’t self-destruct and take the world down with her, like Sukuna. 

         “What do you want out of this?” She asks, defensive and guarded. 

         Satoru sits up, shaking his head at her. “What do you mean?” 

         “What do you want from this? From me? What’s your goal?” 

         “To protect you,” he says. “I’ve told you that from the beginning—” 

         “No— you know I don’t need protecting. What is it? Is it just control?” 

         No one has ever protected Sundari, nor have they ever needed to. She’s been on her own, and she’s been fine that way. If anything, she’s always been the protector, the savior, the one who helps when things go to shit, and someone needs muscle to deal with it. 

         “Control?” He asks, huffing out a laugh. “Is that what you think this is?” 

         “What should I think? Why else would you keep me here?” 

         He scoffs. “I don’t know what you saw in that dream, but the past month you’ve been here, the only thing I’ve done is protect you. The higher-ups want you dead, god knows who else wants you dead— I keep them away from you,” he says, unwavering. “I just want to keep you safe, to make sure that no one wants to use you for their own gain.” 

         “So that you can use me instead, right? At the end of this? I’m powerful, so you need to contain me, collar me, make sure I don’t fuck you over—” 

         “Sundari,” he says sharply, cutting her off. “Do you think I could control you, even if I wanted to? If you wanted to leave here right now and go be a force of fucking nature, do you think I could stop you?” 

         She stares at him, unsure of her answer. Could he? 

         “You’re not a pawn to me, you are not something I need to keep under my thumb,” he continues. “You’re an equal to me,” he admits softly. “In every way, I see you as an equal, and the only thing I’ve ever wanted is to keep you away from people who won’t see you that way.” 

         “Why?” She murmurs, uncharacteristically soft and fragile. 

         “I love you,” he says. “I— I don’t know if it’s too soon, or— fuck, I don’t know, but I do. I love you, love the way you laugh, love your bad attitude, love the way you fuss and fight with me. I want to be with you— I don’t want to take your freedom, I want to work alongside you, just– I want to be near you,” he murmurs. 

         “You love me?” She mumbles, leaning closer. 

         “I love you,” he repeats, placing a hand on her cheek. His eyes scan along her face for any reaction. “That’s all there is. I don’t care what you are, or what other people think you are, I just want to keep you safe.” 

         Maybe she can believe him, if only for right now. The monk’s offer is still on the table, still a temptation that she’ll have to grapple with, but this is real. She’s never been looked after before like this, she’s never had anyone feel the need to protect her, to keep her safe. She’s always been strong— when has there ever been the need for it?

         But Satoru is strong, too, and she understands the way he feels. She wants to protect him, too, whatever the cost may be. If anything happened to him, she’d lose her fucking mind, she’d destroy everything in her path. 

         “Okay— Okay. I’ll work with you,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead to his. A little grin creeps up on her face. “Under the condition that I want strong opponents— I want to fight people that are worth it.” 

         “Done,” he says, smiling back at her. “Are you okay?” 

         “Yeah,” she breathes. “I— I love you. It might be too soon, but–” 

         He kisses her before she can say another word, and for the time-being, they’re happy. 

Writing © 2024 @septembersums and posted with permission. Sundari Hikmat © 2024 @osunism. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging original posts is okay]. This includes my masterlist and fic format as well as feeding my writing to an AI garbage machine. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I can't stop imagining sugar daddies Ayato and Childe and sugar mommy Yelan, goodness me. They all have their similarities but are also different. It comes in layers y'know?

Ayato fits into the archetype almost perfectly - born and raised rich, he finds you on the street and takes you in as his plaything. You do various favors and entertain him while he clothes you, feeds you and spoils you. Anything you even see let alone mention is yours, there is no competition. Word spreads fast through the entirety of Inazuma of the Yashiro Commissioner's little plaything and many are eager to see you for themselves. Ayato loves to show you off but he's sadly not as patient and sly as he likes to think when it comes to you. There is no one in Inazuma who could ever be better than him, he knows this. And yet he still can't stand the thought of another undressing you with their eyes, let alone hands.

Archons help him if anyone even tried because he would have them chopped off right there on the spot.

Kamisato Ayato is awfully possessive of his toy. He expects nothing but loyalty from you. If he tells you that the sky is green and the rain is actually the gods crying you better believe him. It's the least you could do.

Yelan and Childe would have very similar attitudes towards their baby. Both individuals are so incredibly busy so they're rarely home but they make sure to send you all the money you could ever dream of.

Once they're back from their respective trips all they want is to bask in your attention.

Yelan wants to eat and drink with you as she listens to you babble about your day to day life. She of course made very clear boundaries in the start that this relationship is purely transactional but that line blurs the more time she spends with you. With her insane connections you could never leave, don't even bother.

But Childe? Geez, he's less a sugar daddy and more a doting boyfriend. Really, there is no line to blur as there was none to begin with. Chances are you're just using him as a walking wallet but he really doesn't mind, the only condition he has for you is to stay. No matter how gruesome and bloody things get, you cannot leave.

That is his one and only rule.

🥀 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @alatusprinz, @mayulli @mod-kisa-blog, @kalopses-sonderes, @juuuuuj101010, @cc-6789, @yumekos-gamble

[playboifenty]

╰┈➤*.⋆🎬 ❝ 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅?

🩷 • 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐳 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 headcanons!

SPOTIFY • YOUTUBE MUSIC • TAGLIST • INFO

📃. 〄 . ᗢ . ?

🎧 ⋆ NOW PLAYING: WHAT YOU HEARD ━ SONDER. 🎶

―🌟TAGS ! fluff, angst, toxicity, hurt/comfort ish. 🎞 SUMMARY: ❛ fuck yo mind up, waste time. ❜ high hopes, unrealistic dreams, empty promises, and bottles of expensive ass champagne is the foundation of the relationship between the two. ⋆ ★ w/c: 1.1k . . . . . ☢ content warnings: a lilllll teeny tiny bit (a lot a bit) of toxicity... (its brent idk what you expected), comfort if you squint n bend your morals a bit, suggestive-ish themes, brent is a lil sassy cause why tf not, use of the n word, and ermm..lmk if i missed anything else!! ― 🔖 one , two .

ʚ 𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 ! 👁️‍🗨️

omg, omg, omg, hiii!!!! this is like..my first fic on tumblr and my first piece of writing in a whileee, but i wanted to write something cause i kinda sorta have nothing on my account 😭. and this fic lowkey has like a toxic relationship in mind for their relationship but its not overly toxic. (i understand the whole media for impressionable audiences thing but just scroll past it if you not fw it, relaxxx.) so this is just a lil sumn for and to get the hang of things, so let me know if you like it!! feedback is definitely appreciated, but not harsh feedback cause im lowkey sensitive 🥲. i also do not condone, romanticize, or encourage toxic, abusive, or unhealthy relationships!! this is purely just a work of fiction. enjoy!

© don't steal my shit gang. kinda proofread, will be edited.

It started off with a few stolen glances and a sudden gift disguised as a piece of chocolate cake arriving at your table… 

“Courtesy of the table across from you.”  

And it’s been history ever since. 

“I know you seen me looking at you, you know how to grab a nigga’s attention fasho.”

“Mhm, you know you playing wit’ fire right?”

“Fire aint nothing forreal if you know how to handle it.” 

He was always finding some way to make you fold and he knew exactly what he was doing too. Stringing you on with quick but sensual kisses, “I gotchu, jus’ be patient.” licking his lips whenever the energy of his heated stares was matched by you, his hands rhythmically rubbing up and down your thighs, his eyes always being locked on you whenever you spoke. . .There was no way in hell you were going to make it out unscathed. 

Quick and flirty banter is definitely a pillar in you guy’s relationship, feeling comfortable enough to go back and forth with each other.

“Don’t miss me too much! i’ll see you soon, baby.”

“Dont miss you too much? I’ll be missing you the whole week, ma.” 

He loved buying you bracelets and necklaces with his or your name engraved on them, cute lil’ bags he be seeing you eyeing whenever you walk through Chanel, giving you personalized free VIP access to his shows, shit...sending drivers to pick you up and bring you to said shows. And he always made sure you ate and did whatever you needed to do.

“You eat? Nah fuck that, you hungry?” 

“...Maybe.”

“...Don’t play with me, y/n.”

Brent is definitely a sweet-heart in the beginning, well...in his own little way. He’s a romantic but not hopeless. He knew how to show you he cared while also not overplaying his part and things would definitely need time to build up into an actual relationship too. You weren’t stupid, you knew that even though you knew him on a deeper level than all the fame and even as far as to say you knew him as Christopher, he’s still gonna Brent Faiyaz at the end of the day. There were still going to be precautions, external problems, internal problems, and then internal problems egged on by the external ones; loving him was going to be anything but easy. But your connection started to change in different ways too, the relationship would start off with lots of excitement and rose-tinted lenses until feelings started growing and shit got serious; you was thinking it was going to give Jackie Brown and a dash of search & rescue baby...but in reality, it's giving what you heard and session 32 😭. (coughs in this nigga has avoidant attachment issues) 

As soon as he realized what you two had going on was developing into something deeper, he started getting distant. Missing calls, ignoring texts, even coming up with half-assed excuses for missed dates and blowing you off. 

“My bad, I had a lot of shit going on.” 

“I was in the studio, you know how it be, y/n.”

 “I got too caught up in London, that shit was crazy.” 

“You think i could call you back though?” 

And soon the arguments came and you two started staying mad at each other for days on end, not even bothering to try and smooth things over like in the beginning of the relationship. It was hard and it gave you a lot of anxiety. You wouldn't say that you felt unsafe perse, but you definitely didn't feel comfortable. “You mean to tell me that you can't answer the fucking phone for three seconds, Chris??” You shouted, frustration built up in your voice and it was obvious that you were fed the fuck up. It didn't help that the man sitting in front of you was quick to roll his eyes and smack his teeth, but what definitely didn't help was his smart-ass mouth. “Ain't nobody tell you to hit my jack and start losing yo shit, y/n. That's the shit that be blowing me.” 

“I don’t hear from you for days and you expect me to not get worried? You’re mad at me for giving a fuck about you??”

“Whatever, man.”

The whole thing would just progressively get worse as you two went back and forth. you saying petty shit while he just dismissed your feelings until he decided that he would just tell you shit you wanted to hear so the situation would be deaded.

 “I’m sorry, y/n...” he’d say soothingly in your ear, massaging your hips in circular motions as you’d lay your head on top of his chest, close to where his heart beats. “You know I be missing you like crazy. you can't stay mad at me for too long, baby.” and he was right. This routine repeated and repeated itself over and over again until he stopped ‘comforting’ you and just seemingly stopped caring altogether. 

“Nah bro, you tweakin’.” 

“Okay, y/n. stop calling my phone then, problem solved.”

“And you swear you don’t see how your point doesn’t make sense?”

“You got it, y/n.”

With time, you two just broke away from each other, but never ended things officially. It went from short brief phone calls to text messages and eventually, those stopped too. A hole was left in your chest and you couldn’t help but feel as if you wasted your time, continuously punishing yourself because you gave out a part of yourself you won't get back ━ but you couldn’t help but miss him. You’d find yourself compensating for his absence, making two plates of everything, migrating to his unspoken side of the bed, never taking the flowers he got you out of the vase you put them in; even though they long withered away. “I can't believe this nigga got me out here wasting food, groceries are expensive...Eggs are almost four fucking dollars! I can't do this shit, I need to get a grip and be fucking forreal.” 

But let's not pretend he didn’t find himself trying to make sense of your absence, too. 

⋆ ⤏ FINAL WORDS ! 📢 honestly this doesn't feel like it's 1k+ words but it is 😭. i'm so tired chile and i start school in 4 hours. i'm actually content with how this came out, fw it!!

PART TWO COMING SOON.

📸 TAGS !

[atiianeishaunted]

some canon stfuf about the sonder cast bwaa :33 you can have ur own hcs btw id love to see them <3 but!! yeah,, i feel liek infodumping a teensy bit hrgfrhfh mainly cuz im not in an art mood 2day sigh doesnt include everyone bc this is only stuff i can think of off the top of my head atm but :3

lance: canonically bisexual, might be a trans man (havent decided? its honestly up 2 the audience, could go either way), was a huge moviestarplanet player when he was a kid, would probably play dress to impress methinks, for the LONGEST time was convinced something was going on between allura and keith and was insanely jealous and bitter, has the worst gaydar ever TRUST, figured out he was bisexual while playing msp but it only got worse when he met keith and hes really pissed about it

keith: gay as hell but hasnt exactly processed or accepted it (just knows hes scared of women) (for many reasons), transgender (will respond to anything besides feminine pronouns n such), most likely did his own piercings dont ask how or why, allura is the only woman thus far hes comfortable with because she reminds him of a certain someone, allura and him r huge gossips, jack of all trades but really does not know what hes good at like he doesnt know a thing about himself (one time lance challenged him to try out his sniper bc they got into an argument and keith was surprisingly good at it, he was evidently more confused than lance somehow?) (think that one family guy audio where s liek "how r u doing that" "i dunno ;;; O_O"), if you ask him ANYTHING about himself he will most likely just say "yeah i dont rememebr" or "I dont know", often talks very old school and "retro" (in lance's words), surprisingly a decent cook/baker, not as good as hunk of course but can keep up, despite this it was revealed in a conversation with hunk that keith was eating glass among other inedible things while going crazy in the desert (his feral era <3), can diy explosives among other things and no one acknowledges it because it scares them, this boy is very autistic, audhd in fact, im right and you all know it allura: lesbian but doesnt realize it just yet, would probably love the idea of neo/xenopronouns she'd find them whimsical, surprisingly prefers moths over butterflies (mainly after a talk she and keith had one night), huge gossip and loves romance but not in a "i need to date a man" way but "i want to play cupid" (think mabel from gravity falls) (she did have a phase of being boy crazy but that quickly went away when she was brought out of stasis), she loves dressing up but mainly dresses down and more casually because she doesnt go out as much thanks to altea going kaput and all that, she adores gardening and likes to make dyes and such from her flowers, huge diy queen (TRUSTT) she can sew and all that, probably real crafty, keith and allura are close friends and both extremely out of touch with normal human people, she frequently asks him for advice due to their closeness and they just make eachother worse /aff, unironically used wicked in a sentence and was very proud of it (lance almost threw keith out of an airlock for this one), not the best cook but tries her best and is fairly confident with her skills (vicecore if you play alchemy stars) (keith almost banned her from the kitchen) (they agreed on supervised kitchen hours)

pidge: aroace and agender, literally a chronically online cosplayer tech nerd, probably has been cancelled multiple times to the point where matthew had to take every piece of tech they had in the house, has doxxed people before, obsessed with vocaloid and anime, wants to get piercings really bad but their parents wont let them, uses any pronouns and if you ask for their gender they will change their answer everytime or answer with something silly like "the void", their favorite person is Hunk but beyond that prefers robots and tech as their companions, keith is their favorite victim of pranks (save him), the only one who isnt scared of keith even a little bit, evil scientist coded, too smart for their own good, not very socially smart and misses social cues but doesnt really care, very picky about the food they consume, iconic 13-14 year old who is a bit too excited at the prospect of having an excuse to build weapons

[timextoxhajima]

Sonder: Part I

Parts: I II III IV V

member: enhypen heeseung! x oc! woo ki yeom [3rd person pov]

genre: coming of age, slice of life, angst, romance

w/c: 5k

warnings: topics on religion, distressed relationships, mental health (I want to leave an a/n here that I grew up with my maternal family being Buddhists so what I've written is based off what I researched online and the way her family practised Buddhism. I'm personally a free-tinker and this narrative is not in any way meant to offend nor support any particular religion.)

synopsis: after being kicked out of her home, Woo Ki Yeom is forced to live life on her own. struggling to find herself in the midst of her chaotic life, she meets lee heeseung, who, like her, can't give any more fucks to life than she does.

"n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own."

That word. That keeps coming out on Instagram pages and TikTok videos.

It's a strange feeling to know that everybody else in here was living their own lives. Maybe they were going through a breakup, or someone in their family had just passed away. Perhaps their pet ran from home or a trip just got cancelled because their travel buddy fell sick.

It's fascinating at first - but you get bored by it after some time. And even if you didn't, Woo Ki Yeom did.

It's not like it was difficult to figure out how to vacuum your room or do your own hair. Nor was it difficult to figure out how this washing machine operated, though Ki Yeom must admit that it took her a couple of minutes to get it down. But now, all she does is give it a good smack to the side when it doesn't start up.

"wo gen ni jiang (I'm telling you), one day you're going to smack it until it's spoilt!" The owner of the laundromat nags from the payment counter. He's a man in his 50s - Ki Yeom likes to think Mr Hsien is an alternate-dimension version of Eve from the film, Everything, Everywhere, All At Once. He clearly hates this life, and the only time Ki Yeom has seen his wife was when he was sick and couldn't run the place himself.

Mrs Hsien is just about ten times sweeter than he is - which Ki Yeom recalls - she didn't respond that well to.

She must think Ki Yeom is an asshole.

Then again, Ki Yeom knows for a fact that she is one.

"Then you'll finally come around to your senses and get it changed. I just found a coin from the 1930s the other day in my load."

"Do you know change washing machine how expensive?" Mr Hsien rambles on, looking through his glasses that were so far down his nose bridge, Ki Yeom thinks it might just slide right off. In his hands were dollar bills. "shi yi ge yue de qian (It's a month's worth of money)! From everybody that comes here."

She doesn't bother responding - no need to, unless she wants to start a debate.

"All day gloomy," Mr Hsien mumbles under his breath. She dumps herself in the row of chairs right out the door as he aligns the dollar bills and goes to unlock the door. "My wife say gloomy not good. tai duo yin (too much yin)."

His voice is slightly muffled, since his entire body is hidden behind the counter as he hides his money. After a few moments, his hand comes to grip the edge of the counter as he pulls himself up to stand, then he takes a deep breath and sighs as if it took him a bountiful amount of energy to get up. But he looks outwards at Ki Yeom and wiggles a finger at her.

"Are you listening to me?" He shakes his head, processing Ki Yeom just looking down at her phone.

Yes.

"You know, Chinese people always think young people who don't respond are very rude. If you were my daughter, wo yi jing hui ma si ni ah (I would've already scolded you to death)."

He grumbles as he pushes himself out the little door by his counter and waddles for the storage door.

"You shout for me if anything weird happen outside. I'm going to da bian (poop)."

Ki Yeom connects the bluetooth headphones to her phone and adjusts it over her head as the door swings shut.

It was a quiet Wednesday night.

Ki Yeom liked to do her laundry in the middle of the week because there aren't many people around, and she didn't have to wait for strangers to come clear the washing machines before she could use them. She didn't have to talk to strangers - which came as a surprise to her when she first moved here. She never understood why people would just randomly strike up conversations.

What was the point of knowing so much about someone's life when you're probably never going to see this person again?

But it's ironic that Ki Yeom has found comfort in a familiar place, enough to fall asleep. Even if Mr Hsien were to walk right out that storage door and finds her nodding off in her awkward sitting upright position, she knew he wouldn't wake her up. She knows, because it's not the first time she's passed out from a day's work.

Sometimes, Ki Yeom gets her inspiration from her dreams. One would be surprised how much she dreamt - because that meant that she could wake up feeling like she never slept. At some point, Ki Yeom was convinced that she was part of a cult by blood, because strange symbols, shapes, and creatures kept appearing in her dreams. She would draw them out and then go to the library to find anything on them, but to no avail.

Sometimes she blames this on her family.

But this 'gift' does her well at work, especially when the clientele of the tattoo parlour she works at are avid fans of the rare and uncommon.

Because of the number of clients who have grown fond of her artistry, she's been requested more than the average tattoo artist at the parlour she works at. Ki Yeom had been advised not to bite off more than she can chew, but it's not like she has any financial help or alot of money in the first place, so why not?

At least, not after she was kicked out of her own home.

In her busiest week, she spent four nights sleeping in the parlour, and had licorice and coffee for breakfast, a chicken salad for lunch and instant noodles for dinner on one of those days. And that wasn't even the worst meal combination she's had.

Some of her colleagues are kind - the ones who leave her blankets and buy her coffee and bread in the morning when they clock in. Others? Not so much.

"Too young." "Inexperienced." "Greedy." "Hard-up."

She's heard those too many times to feel a thing. It's also because she knows they're true. But it's not her fault she's greedy.

What's wrong with it?

Greed usually comes hand-in-hand with desperation, even if it weren't for a good cause. Greed comes with knowing how it feels when you lack something. Ki Yeom's greed stems from her lack of money, and is that her fault?

No.

She finally jerks awake from her evening nap when a loud thud manages to get past her headphones. Blurry vision still taking some time to clear, she's able to make out Mr Hsien frantically grabbing a rag and cleaning off the counter top. Tea was dripping off the edge.

Just by the movement of his mouth, she can tell he's rambling off about being such a clumsy old man.

She sits up and stretches her neck, feeling the ache when she pulls it the opposite way she was dosing off in. A slight frown, and then in the corner of her eye, she notices someone had taken a seat on the other end of the five-seater row of seats.

It was someone probably her age, maybe younger. But she returns her attention to Mr Hsien finishing the rest of his tea and walking round the counter, grabbing some dry tissues to clean up the remaining on the floor.

Then she catches the stranger glancing in her direction, as if wanting to say something - and then she realises that her music isn't playing. 

She fumbles her lap for her phone, then finds it on the floor right under the seat. The stranger seems to sit with ease now that she's picked it up. She almost finds it embarrassing when she tries to reconnect her bluetooth, but is interrupted by the washing machine she was using finally beeping to indicate that it was done. 

Ki Yeom clears her throat and gets up to the washing machine, yanking the worn-out door open. Gathering the damp clothes in her arms she tosses it into a dryer. She instinctively feels around her pockets to find the token she had paid in exchange for it, but her mood is slightly ruined when she can't find it. 

Mr Hsien is no longer in the counter, so she assumes he had gone to the back, berating himself for being clumsy, so she looks around the floor. Perhaps she might find a stray one sitting somewhere. 

She returns to the dryer, defeated. No, actually, she's too tired to be annoyed. Sliding the headphones off her head, Ki Yeom sighs to herself and rolls her eyes. 

But a soft 'tick' rings quickly across the surface of the dryer, and she looks up to see the stranger turning his back on her. The token sits on the white-turned-grey surface of the dryer next to the one she was throwing her mental tantrum at. 

Ki Yeom builds up the care to speak.

"It's fine but I'll just wait for him to come back out." 

He sits anyway, leaning back coyly and looking at her with a lack of expression. "I'm trying to collect karma points, so don't take it personally. Maybe another day if we see each other."

As if I'm going to see you another day. 

But Ki Yeom is not someone who rejects something when she needs it. 

"Thanks," The word is almost reluctant to come out. Without hesitation, she chucks it into the coin slit of the dryer and it tumbles down into a bed of tokens. She hunches over the dryer and jabs the buttons - sometimes they don't work very well either.

Ki Yeom hadn't always been like this. In fact, she was one of those kids who could plug in her earpieces over dinner and watch her favourite shows and her parents wouldn't say anything about it, because she knew to take them out when the food came.

Sometimes, her parents would join in on the fun of watching whatever show it was she was watching.

But what truly set her family apart from the average family was that her parents were devoted Buddhists. Karma, Liberation, Meditation... Honestly, Ki Yeom never understood what it truly meant until she hit her teenage years, and even then, her understanding of it didn't last very long.

It was a unique, and an admittable forceful, way of which Ki Yeom fell out with her family. As individuals who believed so much in karma, they had the tradition of donating large sums of money to the temple they frequented. They went vegetarian, prayed, kept a kind heart to whomever it was they met - and then her father was left jobless when the company he was working for got involved in an embezzling scandal.

Ki Yeom, at the age of sixteen, had witnessed her father go from the proud family man he was, to someone who stayed in bed all day, afraid to go out, in fear that he would have to open his empty wallet.

The anxiety became crippling and her father had developed depression upon the rippling news that he couldn't be accepted into other jobs because of his niche and limited experience and that he was too old.

At sixteen, when you've spent most of your life trying to understand and believe the ways of which your family has led their lives by, you'd be confused. Why was this happening? Have we not done enough?

What was once a home filled with laughter, comfort and encouragement, turned into a home that scrimped and saved every penny - even spending some nights without any electricity and relying purely on candles.

There was a gradual build-up of resentment on Ki Yeom's heart.

She had gone three years living off the meagre five dollars a day - and when you're in school with friends who find going to Starbucks and getting bubble tea an enjoyable past time, it's difficult. Even if they were understanding and chose not to go to either of those options, it was inevitable that Ki Yeom felt like it was her fault they couldn't go.

Just where in the world did all that money go? All the good karma points they were trying to accumulate? What happened to my God?

Ki Yeom had just graduated from pre-u. She wonders how she even managed to graduate, in the midst of all that falling apart at home, when it happened.

She had reached home after a day's work at the restaurant. As a waitress, she's grown numb to all the ridiculous comments and issues that customers bring up to her, if she were even paying attention.

So, all Ki Yeom wished was for a quiet dinner, a quiet evening and a quiet night to herself. She could crawl in bed and hug her pillows and scroll on her phone until she passed out, and then her day would start from scratch again.

But upon reaching home, she's not given enough time to respond - Especially when the things in her room seemed to be in the midst of removal. By strangers.

"What's going on?"

Her mother follows them out of the room as the movers trudge past her - and out of the house. "Ki, I'm sorry, we'll have to make do-"

"With... what? The floor?"

"You know how hard it's been, we just had to do this for the extra cash."

"How long is this 'cash' going to last us?" Ki Yeom puts her tote down, pushing past her mother and looking into the room. What used to be a cozy room with a bed, a desk, a standing lamp and even a beanbag was now a mattress, a makeshift table and a table lamp.

Ki Yeom turns around, at a complete loss of words. "You literally sold my room."

The elder stands, facing the door because she cannot face her daughter.

Ki Yeom gulps, feeling this intense heat coming up from within her. It feels like she's about to cry, but also wants to vomit and scream at the same time. "How much is selling my room going to make?"

"Ki-"

"How. Much?"

A pause. There's some knocking and rustling outside as they wrap the furniture in bubble wrap. Someone yells at someone else to hand her the money.

"Enough for a couple of weeks."

Ki Yeom sighs heavily, not knowing she was even holding her breath. Then, she coughs and almost hyperventilates. A scoff. Then, a strangled growl, like she was about to throw herself out the window, and the tears start to clog her eyesight.

She watches as her mother receives the thin stack of fifty dollar bills, and the man doesn't give them one last look before leaving.

There's a painful silence in the house when Ki Yeom squats. And when her feet become numb, she drops to the floor with her back hitting the wall.

"I'm sorry, Ki," Her mother turns and sniffles, shoving the fifty dollar bills into her backpocket. She squats, trying to look at Ki Yeom. But her daughter's head is hung low, for she has taken her final sanctuary.

"I don't understand... how this was an option. I'm working. And aren't you and dad trying to find jobs? Aren't you working?"

"I know... and we are... we just... we have nothing."

"What about grandpa? Hasn't he offered to help? At this stage... you want me to believe he hasn't offered any type of help?"

Her mother goes quiet, only taking a deep breath and sitting on her rear as well.

"What? What does that mean?" Ki Yeom frowns, tears finally dribbling down her cheeks as she struggles to understand. "Is he so heartless... that he cannot give us some to get by until something... better comes along?"

"Ki, we've been like this for years..."

"Which makes me wonder why he hasn't helped?"

Silence.

Ki Yeom frowns. "Does he even know?"

Her mother looks up at her through disheveled hair.

"How could he not know?"

"Ki, he knows. We just... you know the rules we live by."

Ki Yeom audibly gasps and chokes in horror. Her stomach drops in disbelief. "Rules? We are sleeping on the floor, our lights are candles and the table lamps are on the floor... we eat instant food two out of three meals and you're telling me... that out of filial piety... you did not accept his help?!"

Silence.

There's an eerie quietness in the home. Of course, atop the screaming in Ki Yeom's head and the traffic outside her home. Her vision is blurring from the tears, but she looks around her dark home, once brightly lit, and her vision ends on the orange-red glow eminating from the altar right next to the front door of her house. It's wide open, so the wind coming through was making the little flames on the candles flicker.

It's been untouched, only routinely cleaned and the oils thrown and replaced. Ki Yeom clenches her jaw, trying for a moment to resist the urge.

But to everyone's devastating shock and surprice, Ki Yeom harshly swipes her entire arm across the reachable counter top, spilling the cups of oil holding the candles and the incense sticks out of their packets.

Her mother quite literally screams and rushes over, yanking her away from the mess.

Smack!

The ringing is sharp in Ki Yeom's right ear as she processses the sting on her cheek, jaw and head. In the corner of her eye, she can see her mother is more surprised than she was. But this surprise is quickly replaced with anger and intense disapproval, so much to the point that her mother pushes past her and squats to pick up the items.

Ki Yeom's heart shatters.

She gulps, thinking if she should help. But her mother shoves her off, as if scared to be touched by her.

"Mom."

The clatter on the floor is gentle and quiet, and her mother is careful not to touch any of the shattered glass. Ki Yeom grimly squats by her and reaches for it, but rejection shoves her backwards on her rear when her mother pushes her away. She loses her balance and falls backwards, hands on the floor and her tears dribbling down her cheek.

Her mother's face is like rock - expressionless, tired. Helpless. Speechless.

Ki Yeom's face was starting to burn up.

"Mom-"

"Get out," She stops her cleaning and stares at the floor.

Honk.

"What?"

"You want so badly to do things your own way... and cannot agree with what we believe in... so pack your things and get out."

She resumes her cleaning up, taking the smaller, shattered pieces and placing them on the altar. While Ki Yeom remains on the floor, her mother squats, picks up whatever her hands can carry, and returns them to the altar. Again, and again.

"Mom, I- Please. How can you live like this?!"

The weight in Ki Yeom's knees start to shake her thighs when she kneels, dragging herself to her mother's feet. She hangs her head low, vision blurry and her head in a whirl. "We prayed to a God for years... my entire life... and we believed in everything we studied... Why were we not returned with the karma we always thought we've been collecting? Why did we pray and pray and yet nothing came along to help?"

Ki Yeom looks up, hair in her mouth and in her eyes as she manages to make out her mother placing the shattered cups back into position.

"Do not speak of Him that way," She whispers under her breath, opening a drawer and pulling out a lighter for the incense sticks. "He is always watching us... and He will help when the time is right."

Ki Yeom finally breaks apart in her own demeanour, sobbing and releasing her mother's clothes.

How can she choose a God, a deity... over her own daughter?

Her mother bows thrice, and sticks the incense stick in the incense pot. "I didn't sell your luggage. You can use that."

Ki Yeom looks up from the floor again, in disbelief those exact words came out of her mouth.

"I expect you gone by tomorrow morning," She turns and walks away, but stops and turns around for a second. "Nobody in my house will disrespect Him."

Ki Yeom had completely blocked out whatever her client was talking about - something to do with work. Her colleagues. Ki Yeom couldn't give any more fucks.

But she sits up to stretch her neck and back and notices in the reflection in one of the mirrors in her workspace a familiar back and a bald head.

She finishes up quickly, not bothering to acknowledge anything that her client has said. "Jun Yeol, can you help me tape her? I- yeah."

Instantly, the pink-haired boy turns around to look out the window. "Go. I got it from here."

"Chargeable list is on my desk. Thanks."

The bell on the door rings as she pushes her way out. She sucks in a deep breath, thinking of what to say again when their eyes finally meet. But out comes a rude and unnecessary: "What are you doing here? I told you not to look for me here."

For a moment, she feels bad. But her grandfather's retort is a reminder that she inherited her attitude from someone.

"I go wherever I want to!" He struggles to get up from the chair they've placed outside the tattoo shop for when there was a queue.

"Sit down!" Ki Yeom rushes over and pushes him back down by his shoulders, making sure to take a seat next to him so he didn't need to stand up again.

"I figured out how to make your mum's soup. The melon wolfberry one."

Ki Yeom looks down as he hands her the cotton bag that perfectly fits a thermal flask.

"You don't like cooking."

"I don't. It gets everywhere and there's a ton of pots and bowls and spoons to wash."

He shoves it into her lap, and huffs while wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"Let me call you a cab."

"Cabs are expensive, don't you dare."

"I'd rather have someone send you home safe than have you pass out on the way back."

"And if I'm destined to die today, I will pass out anyway, won't I?"

The harshness and brutality of his words summon a glare from her. She wants to berate him for being so careless with his thoughts - afterall, she did grow up around the theory of manifestation of karma. And she knows for a fact her grumpy old grandfather might not have that much good karma left.

"Are you earning enough? For yourself? For your rent?"

She sighs and hugs the thermal flask to her stomach. The doorbell rings and her client walks out, turning to say thanks and goodbye.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Is it safe? Where you're staying?"

"We've been through this. There's a security guard on the first floor and you can't go up without a keycard."

"People out there nowadays are terrifying, have you seen? All these gadgets and hidden cameras!"

"I know, I know, but the estate is safe. Don't worry about me," Ki Yeom rubs her eye. Both of them go quiet for a minute. She's listening to the grumble of the asphalt as the cars go by, and she knows her grandfather is thinking about the other questions he had prepared before coming out to meet her. 

"If you're wondering whether they've reached out... they haven't. And I'm not planning on doing it first."

"I didn't ask you to, and I know you wouldn't."

They go silent once more, but the silence is broken by the bell hanging on the front door of the tattoo parlour. 

"Ki, a client called and said she's on the way but she's early for an appointment."

She looks down at her phone for the time. "Yeah, she's supposed come in at 4pm."

"Aight, call me if you need anything," Soo Min smiles at the elderly man, who seems awkward when he tries to return the acknowledgement. The bell rings again when she returns back into the parlour.

"Thanks," Ki Yeom waits for her to go back in before she smiles to herself. "You can just say 'hi'. She's a nice person."

"Her short hair scares me abit. Reminds me of the gangsters and hooligans that run around on the street and in back alleys back in my time," He pauses, realising Ki Yeom's disapproving looks. He clears his throat. "Do the people here treat you well? The last time you told me some of them aren't fond of you."

"Well, it's still the same. It's not like I'm going to try and change their minds about me. I earn my share and they earn theirs."

Grandfather nods and hums in acknowledgement. "You know... sometimes I think you're meant to come out and live your life on your own. I believe you were made for the streets - in a good way - and that you learn and meet so many new people outside of a comfort zone. It's something that the rich and wealthy don't get to have."

There's a gentle gush of wind that rushes through the corridor. The rows of shop along this road were in their not-so-busy afternoon period, but Ki Yeom could still make out that barista who got her order wrong a couple of days ago cleaning up the table along the corridor. And that hair stylist who supposedly cut someone's hair too short and almost got sued.

"Right," She responds first. "But I wasn't given a choice. Would've loved to have one."

Ki Yeom turns back to look at her grandfather. His wrinkles have gotten deeper, longer. She knows he won't be around much longer to be the parent that she lost. Unlocking her phone, she opens the taxi cab.

"Oi!"

Since her 4pm client had come early and Ki Yeom had gotten the job done early, she'd decided that she no longer had the mental capacity to stay anymore - besides, she works on appointment-only basis now anyway.

So amidst all the skanky, judgy looks she gets from the other tattoo artists who don't get as many requests as she does, she bids Jun Yeol and Soo Min goodbye. The evening sun greets her as the evening crowd begins to fill the surrounding cafes, coffee shops and other places that people go to.

She walks by the coffee cafe, and catches the eye of that barista who fucked up her order. She waves.

The barista, of course.

But Ki Yeom feels obligated to at least offer a smile, so she does, and proceeds on her way.

Finally in the comfort of her home, she drops her bag and opens her fridge, eyeing the half-eaten packet of frozen dumplings, miso paste and frozen udon. Ever since she's moved out, she had the freedom to test out whatever stupid recipes TikTok and Instagram had to offer that required three ingredients.

Well, provided she had the equipment - which was a pot, a pan, a mini rice cooker and an air-fryer that the tattoo parlour wanted to get rid of. Honestly, she hasn't used it because she's been afraid it would explode if she did, but it just seemed like a waste if she let them throw it away.

She prepares the miso soup while waiting for the dumplings and udon to defrost first - then the unusual happens.

Knock knock.

Ki Yeom frowns to herself, and mentally checks through all the bills and finances she has to settle. Rent? Not due in another three weeks. Credit card? Haven't touched it. Delivery? Haven't ordered anything.

Knock knock knock.

She turns the stove off and goes for the door, looking through the peephole.

It's the kid from the laundromat.

Perhaps he came to even out the debt.

Ki Yeom opens the door.

"Oh," He seems surprised. "It's you."

"If you're here for the token, I don't have any extra to return. I can pay you a couple of cents or a dollar for it if you're insistent."

"Uh," Gently shaking his head, he simply lifts a hand, and in it, there was an envelope. "This came in my mail. I think they wrote the address wrongly."

She looks at the envelope, and sees her name but with the unit 07-33 instead of hers, 07-38.

"I figured eight just seemed the most similar to three, so. Are you... Woo Ki Yeom?"

"Yeah, thanks," She blinks and reaches out for it.

"Mail's not that common nowadays," He nods towards the envelope. "They don't have your number or email?"

There's an attempt to chuckle, or make a joke. But Ki Yeom doesn't bother responding, only tearing it open and pulling the letter out.

"Yeah, they don't have my number or my email."

The boy clears his throat out of awkwardness. "Oh."

Ki Yeom straightens out the letter right infront of him. As much as she wants to forget that her parents ever existed, she knows she can't. She's been trying - which is why she changed her emails, her phone number, and didn't provide their names to the building's management for "allowed visitors".

Futile efforts - that's what they were. She might be able to change the way she thought but her heart can't forget. Her father used to tell her that the heart always knows what's right, but what he didn't tell her was how to deal with it when she doesn't want to.

Dear Ki,

I'm writing to share that I've gotten a job.

Instantly, she folds the letter back up and shoves it back in the envelope. Her blood boils.

Why did it matter if her father got a job now? It doesn't change what her mother said to her or what happened. It doesn't change-

"Um. You... alright?"

Ki Yeom looks up, remembering that this stranger was still infront of her. Vision blur, she clears her throat and shoves the letter back in his hands.

"It's not mine."

He looks down at the shredded envelope and haphazardly-returned letter. Her eyes are red, so he's not dumb enough to believe it's not hers.

"Are... you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Ki Yeom closes her eyes and rubs them over her lids. "Sorry, I was just busy making dinner. I have to go."

"Right," He clutches the envelope to his side and nods subtly.

With pursed lips, she looks at him one more time for acknowledgement. He's quiet, and careful, as he takes a step back and turns to leave. Ki Yeom gently swings the door shut, feeling her nose sour all over again.

Sucking in a deep breath, she looks over in her mini kitchen and stares at the slightly-cooled soup sittin on the stove. Then her eyes travel over to where she had dumped her bag, and remembers the thermal flask.

She walks over to it and picks it up, opening it and carefully sipping the warm soup.

PART II

[gleefulpoppet]

Sonder Chapter 97: Six Tips to Communicate [~4250 Words]

“That’s understandable,” Blaine replies. “Hopefully, you’ll hear back very soon.” “I hope so," Carole says. "It’s been almost 24 hours. What a time to find a house the day before a holiday!” “I bet we’ll hear first thing in the morning,” Kurt assures her. “I’m sure we can find something before August.” “I hope so. Even five weeks away seems too long,” Elliot says.

You can read Chapter 97 [here] or from the beginning on AO3 [here].

[major-toast]

Sonder - Everyone leads a life of their own

This is my first out of two entries for the @marauderswithpalestineproject . It has been a lovely experience, and I certainly had fun writing this. Many thanks to my anonymous prompter for suggesting this beautiful idea! May this find you well.

#219 - 'bookstore employee / customer meet cute'

(ao3 link right below)

Sonder // 4.9k words // bookstore AU

At the age of sixty-four Remus has encountered many hardships in life. Broken by their cruelty, he believes to be better off alone, lest he hurts the people around him. After all, a wreck like him is not made to love or be loved. So, he sticks to his books, tending to the little shop he calls his own. Here, he cannot harm anyone. Here, he is all by himself. But as a new pair of silver eyes find themselves between his records and work of fiction, everything seems to change. All it took was one dazzling smile and the confidence of a man unknown.

[kay-elle-cee]

i'll be fine, i'll be good || Chapter 4/6 || Read on Ao3 A Slytherin!Lily AU || 23K words || Rated M || Playlist || Read from the beginning

Chapter 4: Again and again and again

Sixth year passes in a fog, but an uneventful one. So much so that Lily's studies excel, her extra time spent out of the common room and focused on her prefect duties pays off and she finds herself appointed Head Girl when the badge tumbles out of her Hogwarts letter and into her trembling hands. It’s an honor she has trouble reconciling.

From the Playlist: I Think I'm Growing? — FLETCHER, Drive Slow — ADDIE, Wish on an Eyelash — Mallrat, Claws — Jetty Bones, Mother Mother — Tracy Bonham, Something I Said — The Sonder Bombs, Change — Sjowgren

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Surprise drop of the longest chapter to give you more time to read before next Friday...Thank you all so much for the love you've shared for this fic so far!