Hello Everyone

tw: rape/sa

iof soldiers held women in the vicinity of al shifa hospital and they raped them and forced their husbands/families to watch. and anyone who closed their eyes got threatened that they'd be shot. they raped a pregnant woman in front of her husband and child. the word monsters doesn't even come CLOSE to describing these lowlife animals. this is pure sexual sadism. AND THE WORLD IS STAYING SILENT. wanna know why? because palestinians are not white. the world would be up in flames. hell, the media was OUTRAGED at the alleged news of "40 beheaded babies" when there was literally no evidence of it (there is still none, mind you). there are hundreds of thousands of videos and photos from palestinian journalists that are posted everyday documenting the war crimes committed against them. and yet apparently it's all fake. hypocrisy at its best.

rules for thee and not for me

the real reason obito went crazy was bc he was stuck in a cave listening to an old man rant about his dead boyfriend's amazing tree cock for like a year

I am flying to Asia now. Be back in 20 hours.

I can't get over the one sided love of a deity trapped in stone with a newcomer to their land.

Fields of Misteria has a dragon statue that seemes to be romanceable later on named Caldarus. They are immortal and trapped in stone because they have grown weak and their memory fuzzy.

You nurse then back into power by collecting nature essence by doing things around your farm. Cutting grass, tending crops. Cutting trees, clearing rocks etc.

I can't get over this idea of one sided longing or enamorment now. A mostly silent being who watches from afar as you wake up everyday just before the sun comes over the mountains in the distance and begin your work.

Diligently clearing land, planting and lovingly caring for your crops. The strength you built as an adventurer coming in handy with cutting down large trees and smashing large rocks with ease. The gentle way you handle your farm animals and the bonds you build with the community.

The beam of pride you have when you complete a days worth of work. Tired, sweaty, dirty---but happy and content.

They watch you get frustrated when you get tired and you're so close to being done, when your backpack gets too full too soon, watching you take breaks to restore your stamina and how you treat animals, even bugs, with kindness by shooing them away before clearing the next plot of land.

They see the gentle smile of your face as you water and weed your plants and hear you regale the silent stone with stories of your adventuring days. They see you run past into the village with gifts to give and materials to offer, help to aid those that need it.

They feel sad when you sleep in, noting how unusual it is for you to sleep in late and plead for you to take care of yourself and not push so hard. The mines are dangerous and their power is limited.

The find themselves worrying for you. Did you remember to make food? Are you eating a proper diet? Are you remembering to rest? You can be so stubborn sometimes.

They despise being so weak, they wish to speak to you more, to see your eyes light up with new information and to keep you company. To aid you in your self appointed quest of a manageable farm and happy life.

They find themselves excited for dawn, when you come out and stand in front of their statue--coffee in hand while you plan your day, knowing they can't respond but still treating them kindly, gently.

You make sure to scrub them clean when the rain comes to avoid mildew and moss growing on them. It can't be comfortable and somehow you think of it like a virus for them. They're your friend and you want them to be taken care of, since, as a statue it's not like they can clean themselves.

They think you are devoted to kindness to those around you.

And they wish to reward such devotion.

By returning it in kind.

Gaza is not starving. Gaza is being starved by Israel. their condition is so bad that they are forced to consume animal feed just to keep their stomach full. but it isn't providing them any nutrition which is causing malnutrition. this is one of the most well documented genocide of all time and yet there are people who deny it or worse, they don't care. please don't turn away from their suffering and keep talking about Gaza.

i have an idea!! could you write something about sukuna taking babykuna to her first daddy daughter dance? 🥹

oh this made my heart soft.....thank you for requesting <3

it wasn’t often that sukuna did things quietly. he was a man of big gestures, loud proclamations, and—if the mood struck—petty celebrations just to rub in a victory. but this was different.

it started when babykuna saw you and sukuna dancing in the kitchen one evening. you weren’t doing anything extravagant, just swaying to the soft hum of music playing from your speaker. sukuna had one arm around your waist, his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your back, and babykuna watched from the hallway, eyes wide with interest.

the next day, it happened. sukuna had just gotten home when babykuna marched up to him, very serious.

“papa.”

he looked down. “yo.”

she huffed. “we must dance.”

sukuna blinked. “…we must?”

“yes.”

a pause. then he smirked. “you tryna challenge me, kid?”

babykuna narrowed her eyes. “no.” she pointed very dramatically. “you must dance with me. like how you do with mama.”

ah.

so that’s how sukuna found himself in the living room, with the lights dimmed, holding his daughter in his arms as ‘cariño’ by the marías played softly in the background. babykuna, dressed in her favorite pajamas, scrunched up her face in deep concentration, her tiny hands clutching onto his much larger ones, trying to mimic how she’d seen you dance with him.

sukuna, at first, played along with mock seriousness, humming the tune as he swayed them gently. but then, somewhere between her little giggles and her determined little frown, his expression shifted— from amusement to softness.

he was dancing with his little girl. his baby. and one day, she wouldn’t be this small anymore.

nearby, mr. pickles the maine coon and baby the orange tabby were sitting still, watching the scene unfold. mr. pickles, ever the wise old man, was probably contemplating the fleeting nature of time. baby, however, was staring blankly ahead, absolutely void of thought.

and you were standing in the doorway, watching them, clutching a kitchen towel like it could physically hold in your emotions. because, damn it, if you didn’t feel like crying.

sukuna caught your eye. his signature smirk softened into something quieter, something fond. and then, with babykuna still in his arms, he tilted his head towards you, offering a silent invitation. your feet moved before you could even think. before you knew it, you were joining them, swaying together in the middle of your home, the warmth of your family pressed close.

and for once, sukuna wasn’t the loudest thing in the room. for once, he let the moment speak for itself.

Lula compares Israel's attacks on Palestinians in Gaza to Hitler's killing of Jews

Brazilian president Lula (PT) stated this Sunday 18th that what is happening in the Gaza Strip is not a war, but a genocide, and compared Israel's action to that of Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler against the Jews.

“What is happening in the Gaza Strip to the Palestinian people does not exist at any other historical moment. In fact, it exists. When Hitler decided to kill the Jews,” he said.

Asked about the Brazilian government's decision to be the new donor to the UN Agency for Palestinian Refugees, Lula criticized the leaders of the countries that decided to suspend contributions. “When I see the rich world announce that it is stopping contributing to the humanitarian issue for the Palestinians, I wonder how much political awareness these people have?”, he said. “And how big is the heart of solidarity of these people who cannot see that in the Gaza Strip there is not a war happening, but a genocide?”

The president also questioned: “Who will help rebuild those houses that were destroyed? Who will repay the lives of 30 thousand people who have already died? 170 thousand who are injured. Who will give back the lives of children who died without knowing why they were dying? Is this enough to disturb the humanitarian sense of the planet’s political leaders?”

“It is not a war between soldiers and soldiers. It is a war between a highly prepared Army and women and children. Look, if there was an error in that institution that collects the money, find out who made the mistake. But do not suspend humanitarian aid for the people who have been trying to build their state for decades”, concluded Lula.

I'm actually quite proud of having voted for him. He was bold, Brazilian's newspapers are roasting him for saying the TRUTH, but is this kind of boldness that we need right now.

oj my god...ain't no way...

⋆୨ chapter four ୧˚ behind a box of reasons why

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter three - for a while, you were all mine <> next: chapter five - redefines in every way what love is ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 7.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, abuse/gaslighting, a bit of blood | notes: sorry if there’s any mistakes !! rushed this out and had no time to proof >_< but heh i tried to keep angst minimal so enjoy <3

Tumultuous is a fair word to describe your honeymoon. Between being over the moon when Sae finally started acting like an actual husband to you and being down in the dumps when you realise that he’s still in contact with the ex-girlfriend that he had apparently promised to wait forever for, you’re still a little conflicted.

Still, you’re easy to appease, given how easily you believed him when he promised you he’d stay. You chalk it up to you being efficient—you’re not about to let your overactive imagination ruin your days. You’re just going to trust Sae, even with that little seed of doubt already planted in your mind.

There’s a part of you that believes he wouldn’t bother promising anything he didn’t mean; although you should know he could, given the day of your wedding, both of you lying through your teeths about loving each other. You’d like to believe that the present is different somehow.

It proves hard to do though, given how you’re achingly suspicious every single time a routine changes.

Like this morning, when Sae tells you he’s taken the day off and tells you it’s for no particular reason when you asked him about it. That paranoid voice in your head keeps wondering if he’s just using that time to meet with Mirin.

The chat messages you saw from her that day is an indication that they’re still on friendly terms, if anything. And somehow, it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?”

Your coworker and best friend at work, Sumi, asks as she swivels her chair around to look at you, the concern lining her brows.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” you tell her, trying to brush it off as you offer the widest smile you can manage.

Sumi sighs, the scepticism clear on her face. “You’re always bottling things up to yourself,” she chides, with a hint of motherly affection your own lacks. “If you need to rant just remember I’ll listen to you anytime, okay?”

Days like this, you’re thankful for nice people like her who treat you normally despite knowing you’re the owner’s daughter. Even working in a subsidiary they own, it’s hard to escape the greedy ones who try to get close for perks.

“Thanks, Sumi,” you tell her, a genuine smile on your face this time. “Maybe I’ll take you up on it one day.”

You’re usually grounded, and you don’t usually allow stray thoughts to influence your mood or decisions. But somehow, it’s difficult when it comes to Sae, and you have to wonder whether it’s because this is the first time you think you’re in love with someone.

How would you know what it is, anyway? How should you know if it’s what you’re feeling? You’d thought Reo was someone you loved, but that felt entirely different. It was always comfortable, like a safe space that you’d rather keep stagnant than to try rocking the boat.

You think about it the entire trip home. Back home, where you’re wondering if Sae’s there, or whether he’s out with—god, you don’t even want to think her name.

When you open the door, you don’t see anyone there, and you feel a sinking in your chest. You’d been hoping that he’d be there and you can keep from overthinking, but maybe that’s asking too much. And just when you’re ready to give up and pour yourself a bath and hope to fall asleep while having one, you hear someone clearing their throat as you retreat down the corridor to your room.

Spinning around, you see your husband there, hair a mess and face stoic as usual, looking like how you first left him in the morning. You blink once, twice, wondering if you’re dreaming. Sae doesn’t usually like to stay cooped up in his room, which was why you’d thought he wasn’t home in the first place, but it looks like you thought wrong. (Yay!)

Sae’s about to speak when you cut him off.

“Oh! Right, dinner—let me put my stuff down and I’ll cook something up!” You’re already bounding down towards your room as Sae tries to call out your name, unfortunately falling on deaf ears.

But he doesn’t have to wait much to get a reaction out of you, your mind twirling a thousand possibilities in your head as to why the fuck your stuff are gone from your room.

Sae thinks it’s absolutely comical how the first things he hears out of your mouth are: “Sae, are you kicking me out? Where’d you send my stuff?”

Because in every single universe, that would be your first thought.

He doesn’t say a thing, only offering you a roll of his eyes and a sigh as he gestures with his hands for you to walk the other way. 

So you do—slowly. You walk towards him, furrowed brows and eyes searching his expression for answers which, unfortunately, do not give anything away because he’s annoying like that.

Fifteen agonising seconds (for Sae) later, you open his bedroom door to find your “missing” items.

The books you’re reading are on one side of the nightstand, your clothes that you’d haphazardly collected on a pile on your chair are in a similar arrangement on the other side of the room where the study desk stands, and even your beloved Santa doll is situated on one side of the king-sized bed, sitting atop the pillow.

Turning around to face Sae again, you suddenly feel the guilt wash over you. While you were thinking that he’d go out and meet his old flame, he probably spent the whole time carefully moving everything over.

To his bedroom.

It takes you a while to really connect the dots.

Sae, on the other hand, is too impatient to wait for you to speak, your mouth slightly open and looking like a total idiot. For once, the expression you see on his face isn’t completely stoic. There’s a lilt in his eyes, and a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Okay, you figure out where the fuck your room is, and I’ll sit here and wait for you,” he tells you, the playful sarcasm dripping from his lips, his inviting subtle chuckle sounding like the signal of forever.

He sits down on the couch, idly flipping through the channels while you enter the bedroom further and take your time looking around. And by that, you mean to make sure you’re not dreaming.

You slap your face a couple times, you open the cupboard to ascertain your clothes are there, you peek into the bathroom to find that Sae is unexpectedly kind of corny because you find matching his and hers sets of toiletries.

A few minutes later, you find yourself at the doorway, Sae looking at you expectantly, brows raised. “Yes, wife?”

Now he thinks you’re kind of pathetic because he can see your face light up from just a little call of your title. But Sae thinks he might like that look on you. Maybe a little too much than he’s comfortable with.

Your excited grin dissolves into a sheepish one. “That sounds kinda corny.”

Sae shrugs, getting up off the couch, “guess that’s the last time I’ll call you that then—” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because you slap your hand across his mouth, and Sae can almost laugh at how different you are from the first time he saw you. Still as pretty, just a little less reserved, a little more happy.

“I take that back,” you tell him, giggling and skipping away to the kitchen, not giving him any time for a rebuttal. “What do you feel like tonight? Fish?”

He follows you, looking over your shoulder as you get the food ready. “Anything, as long as you’re cooking,” Sae says, as if it’s normal that he says shit like that and it takes everything in you not to make too big a deal out of anything he says. “Oh, I’m going out drinking with the guys later by the way, so you can get to bed first.”

Yeah, as if you can get to bed when you’re that happy and excited. Later that night you just end up tossing and turning in bed, grinning yourself silly. And who can blame you? It’s the first proper time that Sae is solidifying that he’s had a change of heart. Even if it’s in spite of all your uncertainties. To which Reo had told you to try talking to him and asking him about it because he’s your husband and you really shouldn’t have to be afraid of talking about the difficult stuff when you have to be with him forever.

Reo’s right, you know that. But you’ll hold off on it. Only because you don’t want to possibly ruin this right after it barely started. It’s foolish, but you really don’t want to go back to square one.

Even if it’s the right thing to do.

That night, Sae gets home only after three, to which he finds you peacefully sleeping on your side of the bed, phone still with its screen lit up. You must’ve been scrolling through it before you passed out.

If he was sober, maybe he would’ve allowed himself to think that this gesture of his was just a whim, that it was a moment of weakness. That you don’t really mean all that much to him. After all, how could you, when he just met you not long ago?

But he finds himself treading carefully, and he finds himself moving quietly, all in the name of not disturbing your sleep. And maybe he can’t convince himself you don’t mean that much to him anymore.

While he gently settles himself on the other side of the bed, your phone buzzes and Sae looks over, your text chat with Reo left open on your screen. The slept already? weak. message he just sent you would’ve been left at that by Sae, except he sees one message at the top, a night, stupid. call me if you need anything. 

And so maybe he feels more for you than he thinks. Because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that message especially because Reo’s your best friend but Sae’s stupid in relationships and he scrolls a little bit upwards and sees the previous message from Reo.

maybe i should marry you instead, sae who 😇

It’s irrational how much it can bother him. Even if it’s dated over a month ago.

When you wake up the next morning, you find yourself pressed up against Sae, his head atop of yours, his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing’s slow and steady and he’s definitely not up for work, it looks like. And neither are you, because this moment feels precious and you’re not sure what spurred that on, to hug you to sleep out of nowhere, maybe it’s the alcohol, but whatever it is, you’re thankful for it.

At times like this, you’re grateful for the fact that your parents own the company. They’ll be fine if their daughter ditches a day of work. Especially since this was what they wanted from the start—for the marriage to work.

ok, i’ll pick you up later. see you, stupid.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Frantically, you try to suppress your grin and lock your phone screen, but it doesn’t escape her—your reason for being happy.

“Meeting your husband for dinner tonight?” Sumi asks, looking like she’s been bored out of her mind for the past half hour anyway.

Deciding it’s pointless to act coy, you nod. “Managed to convince him to cook with me so we’re just gonna stop by the market later.”

“Wow, look at you guys,” she cajoles, nudging you playfully on the elbow. “You know, the first few weeks of your marriage you looked absolutely miserable, I was beginning to wonder if he was abusing you or something.”

You laugh awkwardly, because you can’t blame her for that. For the first few weeks you’d been spacing out at work, going home looking so downtrodden, and then going back to work looking like a zombie. It’s not that much of a stretch for Sumi to think so.

“If he ever treats you like shit, you tell me, okay?” Sumi tells you, looking as fierce as she can muster. Which is funny because she’s a small petite-sized girl, not any older than you and has such pretty brown doe eyes that it’s almost more adorable than angry. “I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Later on, when Sae waits for you in his car at the lobby, Sumi follows you, curious to see what your husband even looks like because she wasn’t invited to your wedding despite your adamant requests to your parents to include her. Lucky for you, she’s understanding enough.

“Hey, from here your husband looks kinda handsome,” she whispers to you, trying to make out what he really looks like from behind the tinted windows, but it’s hard to see especially when Sae has his shades on. Still, Sumi tries to wear her cynical face, “but a husband who doesn’t even open the door for his wife? What a—”

As if sensing her cynicism, Sae hops out of his car at that moment, black Burberry wool coat shielding him from the cold. He looks straight out of a magazine that you can’t even blame Sumi for gaping as he walks over.

“Hey, ready to go?” He asks you, ignoring Sumi at the side who’s completely gone mute.

“Yeah let’s go,” you tell him, internally laughing at how meek Sumi turns, reminding yourself to make fun of her tomorrow for it until your mind goes completely blank as Sae plants a kiss on your cheek.

You’ve been able to process when his affections go on in private, or around strangers who barely pay any attention, but when he kisses you in front of your friend, you’re half-embarrassed and half-flattered.

Sae puts his hand on the small of your back, starting to guide you to the passenger seat before he turns back to look at Sumi. “Do you need a ride too?”

Sumi hurriedly waves both her hands, shaking her head. “No no, it’s fine I wouldn’t want to interrupt your date,” she tells him, and you snicker. She’s being a whole lot more polite than you’re used to her being but you suppose it’s not weird for people to be intimidated by Sae.

He nods curtly in acknowledgement before he goes around to the driver’s seat, Sumi mouthing a ‘have fun’ as she winks at you.

That’s exactly what you plan to do—you and Sae being at the grocery store together makes you feel like everyday life with Sae, even if it’s doing something simple like this, it really won’t be so bad. His initial cold shoulder and semi-hostile nature has completely gone, and he’s been initiating a lot of things too that you wouldn’t feel right doubting him too much over whatever you might’ve seen back in Korea. Or maybe it’s just your aversion to confrontation that’s speaking.

Either way, you decide to shove it to the back of your mind for the future you to deal with.

A flick to your forehead brings you back to Sae, his deadpan face unamused as he finishes the self-checkout.

“What’re you daydreaming about?”

With a cheeky grin, you shake your head. “Nothingggg.”

Sae clicks his tongue, brushing his card against the reader and doesn’t even wait for the receipt before he’s pushing the trolley full of dinner out to the car. “Mm, must be about me then.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks, pouting as he raises a brow at you, taunting you to deny him. But you don’t, because you’re honest to a fault and Sae knows that.

He suppresses a grin, looking smug as he loads the food onto the trunk, earning a smack on his arms from you.

The ride back to the apartment is so different from the first that you can barely believe it. Sae’s cursing out everyone he had to deal with at work today and you know he’s only doing it because he’s comfortable with you now and it warms your heart. Compared to the first time where he barely spoke to you or even deigned to look at you, you’re impossibly happy right now, your playlist blasting over the speakers while Sae entertains your questions about his day.

“If you hate it so much, why’d you agree to take over the business then?” You ask, though quietly, because you’re not sure if it’s too sensitive of a question.

Sae goes silent for a second, like he’s considering whether he wants to tell you. “There was something else I wanted to do.”

He’s not really answering you, but he’s trying to give you something, and that’s all you really need.

“What was it?”

By instinct, he drives slower whenever he’s thinking. His hand on the joystick tenses up a little, gripping it slightly tighter before he ultimately releases it and shakes his head. He looks in your direction before looking back to the road ahead.

“I’ll tell you next time, okay?”

If he isn’t ready to share, then you’re not willing to press him either.

“Okay.”

By the time you reach home, the atmosphere between you and Sae has dissolved to normal, and you’re all for a wonderful date night in, happily thinking how you should torture Sae by giving him some insanely difficult tasks just to see how he would handle it—until you realise the world loves giving you bad surprises.

The moment you open the front door, your laughter dissipates, replaced by a perplexed smile as you notice the two guests sitting in the living room.

“Darling, there you are!”

Your mother bursts forward to hug you while your father remains expressionless, standing in the bright living room, black suit a stark contrast against the white walls.

Behind you, Sae sticks close, whispering an are you okay? in your ear, waiting for your nod before he relegates to the kitchen to put down the groceries.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, we had a copy of the key since we were helping to furnish the place for you both and we just missed our baby so much that we wanted to drop by,” your mother announces, and you already want to gag from the amount of bullshit you hear.

This is definitely not normal parenting.

“Would you like some tea?”

From the kitchen, you can already hear Sae brewing something. You want to help him, but your mind goes numb, drawing a blank. It’s never good news whenever you see your parents. Their care has always been a ruse for some other agenda, and you don’t know if you want to know what they’re really here for.

Questions fill your mind. Questions like why must they come at such a time? or why are they here at all? and then comes the feeling of impending doom all because that since you’ve been young, you’d only ever been taught that your parents’ will are absolute and that you’d rather die than have to disobey and suffer the consequences.

But a warm hand on yours begs to differ. Before then, you didn’t even realise you were trembling.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sae’s right there, beside you, already made sure your parents are distracted by the tea. Calloused fingers intertwined with yours, a gentle squeeze—one, two, three times—to get you to calm down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really.”

“Sure you don’t wanna just tell ‘em to go?”

“I can’t.”

Two simple words and Sae doesn’t ask any more. There’s a certain kind of comfort to know that he’s here with you, that he’s someone like you, that he knows what you’re going through and out of everyone, he would understand. Two older siblings who unfortunately have to obey their parents’ every wish for probably different reasons and yet suffer in the same way anyway.

“Let’s go,” he tells you, gently dragging you by the pinky. “I’ll take your side whatever it is, so don’t worry so much. We’ll get them out of here in no time.”

Sae makes it sound so easy he makes you nearly believe it. But you of all people know your parents are anything but easy.

About five minutes into small talk (and by that you mean that they’re skirting around, asking about all the pictures hung up in the house, asking why you two still looked kind of awkward when your pictures show otherwise, and last but not least a very awkward question your mum threw about asking for a grandson to which Sae had choked on his tea), your father wastes no more time trying to get to the point.

“So, Sae, how’s our daughter treating you?”

Caught off guard by the question, Sae clears his throat, picking his words wisely. “She’s perfect, sir. Why do you ask?”

Internally, you’re grateful he’s being more polite than he usually cares to be. Can he feel you stressing out beside him?

“Nothing, just curious.” Your father throws you a dirty stare before focusing his attention back on Sae. “So nothing’s been off, then? Everything’s all good?”

Sae’s just as confused as you are, but he keeps his cool, nodding. “Everything’s great. We were actually having a date night in before, well, we saw the both of you here.”

Your father doesn’t say anything much after that. Your mother does most of the talking, but you know this is all just part of their plan. That’s what they always do. Your father is the one who’s straight to business, doesn’t waste his time or energy speaking in some roundabout manner. But he’s not a businessman for nothing—you can’t get anywhere without establishing a connection, and that’s always where your mother comes in. She’s always charming to people who aren’t aware of the inner workings in your family. That’s why you’re immune to it. And after hearing so many negative things surrounding your parents, it looks like Sae is as well.

The next ten, twenty minutes are carried by your mother, talking about anything and everything in the world. Sae talks more so you don’t have to.

“It’s fine, you can pick that up, we’ll have some alone time with our daughter,” your father says after noticing that Sae’s phone has been vibrating for a while now. There’s a pattern—his phone vibrates, Sae silences it, it starts vibrating again. Like the caller either has some emergency or they know nothing about personal space.

Sae’s about to reject again when you put your hand over his, squeezing it in the same way he did. “It’s fine, just go.” And come back soon because I don’t want to be left alone with them for too long—you try to telepathically implant that thought in his head, anxiety gripping tightly onto you.

It’s not like he wants to leave you defenceless, either. He of all people know what toxic parents are like and yours are class A vultures. But he’ll get this call out of the way and then switch his phone off and help you get out of whatever this is.

But then he sees the caller ID and he stills for a minute before picking it up. “Mirin?”

Over the phone, he can hear her muffled voice, saying his name and then a string of words he can’t understand.

“Hey slow down, what’s wrong?”

Mirin’s just sniffling now, and maybe it’s because of all the years of friendship and relationship they had that she can still tug on Sae’s heartstring.

“Remember that you said you’d be there for me if I needed you?” She asks, half sobbing in between. Sae doesn’t know what to answer her, so he keeps quiet. “I really really need you right now.”

Sae hesitates a little. “How bad is it? Can it wait because—”

Mirin’s sobbing gets even louder. “No, please, I just… I really need you here, Sae.”

Maybe it’s because he rarely ever heard her cry like this. Or maybe it’s because of how it’s different when there’s someone crying and begging for him that the words just slip out of his mouth before he realises it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me, yeah?”

Out in the dining room, you’re drumming your fingers nervously on your thighs, shrinking under the heat of your father’s gaze.

“So, have you been behaving, Y/N?” It’s your father speaking, and he’s as relentless as ever. The moment Sae is out of earshot, he’s back to his authoritative tone, the one that he used to ring terror on you and your little sister as children. The one he still uses to this day to assert his authority over you. To remind you that you’re being seen as his properties, that you’re just a cog in the machine that runs for him.

Even if you’re not sure what he’s referring to, you nod anyway. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Somehow, you feel like nothing you do can appease him, because the next moment, he’s heaving a deep sigh, getting up and sitting himself in Sae’s seat, flipping his iPad open and scrolling through something on the screen.

What he shows you next makes your heart sink to your ass.

It’s a picture of when you met Reo last, before you went to Korea, when you were confiding in him about Mirin. There’s nothing wrong with meeting him, you know that. In fact, your parents keep a good relationship with his for a reason. They just never pushed you to marry Reo because there are bigger fish; namely, the Itoshis. But what’s wrong with it is the angle from which it was taken; it’s from behind Reo, and the way he’s leaning forward and your eyes happen to be closed, it looks like you’re kissing him.

You can tell your father a thousand times that that’s not what’s going on and that the angle is misleading, but you know that’s not what he’s nitpicking about. It’s about how you carry yourself, you can recall from those lessons he tried to instil in you as a child. It’s about not giving anyone else anything to say anything about.

“We were just having—”

“I don’t care, Y/N,” your father sighs, rubbing his temples, entirely frustrated for god knows what reason. “I don’t care if you want to be a fucking tramp and fool around with someone else when you’re already married. But if you do so, you better make fucking sure no one sees you.”

There must be an art to how he can say words so cruel, filled with toxin and yet his face remains so straight. There must also be an art on how to not give two fucks because your mother’s in her original seat, sipping on her tea as though this is a normal evening as any.

“Dad, I’m not doing anything wrong with—”

“Do you know how hard it was for us to convince the Itoshis that you’d make an excellent wife?” He cuts you off once again, spitting words that could break your bones. “And here you are, flaunting around town with that Mikage boy.”

Is it bad to say you’ve lost all will to fight when you realise your parents don’t care one bit if you’re in the right or wrong? You want to ask how they managed to get such a picture too, but you doubt they’d entertain anything from you right now.

“You know, we thought you were finally useful after all this time,” your father ponders out loud, eyes fixed on the marble tabletop instead of at his own daughter. “But here you go again, making a mess of everything.”

You’re about to speak, but this time it’s your mother that cuts you off.

“Honey, I don’t think you realise the gravity of the situation,” she says, her voice silky smooth and calm even though what she’s saying is quite the opposite. “This marriage marked a wonderful partnership with the Itoshi company, the merger is almost finished and we don’t want you to ruin it all by wasting your time with some second-rate boy.”

That must be the first time you feel the anger bubbling up and threatening to burst where all other times you’d feel scared. To call Reo second-rate is uncalled for, and your fist clenches, ready to argue, when you hear your father chuckling beside you.

“Looks like this girl can’t control her temper either,” he says, as though you aren’t even here. “That Mikage boy aside, looks like our poor girl here can’t even control her finances.”

“What?”

By now you’re more than just a little confused. You’re used to them having a say in everything when you still lived with them. But now that you’ve already moved out, you’re already used to the freedom that came with not having to worry about them criticising your every move. Turns out, that was premature. Even after moving out, they still make sure to keep track of every single thing.

“Tell me why there’s barely any money left in your account,” your father demands, tone lacking any sort of sympathy and choosing to go full on accusatory. “Did you just go insane and spend it all? Did we bring you up to be a spoiled brat, is that it?”

There’s a dagger to your heart with every single syllable. Finally coming to terms with the fact that your parents never loved you nor cared about your wellbeing hits harder than you expected. They didn’t miss their daughter nor did they care about her happiness in the marriage. It was only ever about them them them.

“I didn’t—”

“Honestly, after all this time you still haven’t learned to control yourself. First it’s with Mikage and now it’s with money—”

“I’m afraid that was my doing, actually.” Sae cuts your father off, stepping in for you, reappearing at the kitchen doorway. His teal eyes are cold, staring straight at your father. “I told her to move it to a joint account since we’ll be sharing finances.”

Your father narrows his gaze, shifting his attention to your husband, your hands shaking under the table. Why does it feel like some bad confrontation is going to happen? One thing’s for sure: your father doesn’t like that rebellious tone of his.

“And what makes you think you qualify for that? What if you try to swindle my dearest daughter out of all her money? As her father I’m sure you can understand why I have my concerns.”

For the most part, it looks like Sae is unfazed, and why wouldn’t he be? From what you gather, it doesn’t look like he’s had such an easy childhood either.

“Then as her father, I’m pretty sure you’d want the best for your daughter, right?” Sae asks, more taunting than anything. “She’s chosen to put her trust in me, so I’m handling it. She doesn’t have to worry. Sounds like a good deal, no?”

Sensing the defiance oozing out of Sae, your father goes back to his favourite target: you.

“Is that right? You trust your husband over your father’s words now?”

The threat in his eyes is real. They’re daring you to go against him, like they just know you’re way too scared to. But then you catch the pair of eyes behind him—the teal ones that look at you gentler than they’ve ever been—and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so scary.

A single nod of affirmation from Sae is enough to give you that pump of courage that you need.

“I trust Sae a hundred percent,” is all you say, deciding that’s enough to get your point across.

But maybe you’d been obedient a little too long, and you’d been spared from how harsh your father could be for too many seasons that you didn’t see it coming. You’d forgotten how cruel he can be, both mentally and physically.

With his hand raised, you watch it go up the same angle like it always did back then, and you’re reminded now of just how much force is behind one of his slaps. You remember the way your little sister cried as she hugged her teddy bear, watching you take the blame for her mistakes and bearing the brunt of your father’s anger. Your eyes squeeze shut, the fear taking over. 

You wait for it to land, but it doesn’t. 

When your eyes open, Sae’s there, his hand around your father’s wrist, a vein appearing on his forehead as he stares him down. 

“You may be her father, but I’ll have to tell you this: don’t you dare hit my wife.” Sae’s more menacing than you thought he could be. His knuckles are white, your father feeling the force before yanking his own hand away.

As always, he’ll look at you with all the hatred he can muster, unwilling to back down. “You ungrateful little bitch—” His words still hurt, but you catch sight of the pot of tea he’s thrusting towards you and you squeal, instinctively cowering backwards. Either way, either the scalding hot tea or the porcelain with which it’s made is going to hit you.

But once again, you’re proven right to trust Sae, because he’s in front of you in a heartbeat, shielding your body from any harm, letting the pot hit the floor, breaking into countless little pieces, some tea splattering onto your arm and you can’t even imagine how badly Sae got hit.

Still, he doesn’t wince even a little bit. He’s still staring at your father, but with his back facing you, you can’t really see him.

“Mr L/N, this is the last time I’m going to tell you nicely. If you dare to hurt Y/N again, I’ll personally stop the dealings myself.”

Your father bursts out laughing at Sae’s declaration, as if he doesn’t believe that Sae has that sort of authority. In all honesty, you’re not sure if he has. But you appreciate the thought. You’re still a little shaken up, eyeing all the little sharp pieces of glass all around the floor.

“Honey.” Your mother’s voice is soft but firm, and she’s only glaring at your father. It’s a look that tells him he needs to back off. It’s a warning, only because she’s his only anchor. She doesn’t care about any of this that’s going on, only at the fact that offending Sae might put their relationship with the Itoshis at risk.

Clicking his tongue, your father rolls his eyes and gets up and you can’t even wish for him to accidentally step on a piece of glass because he’s wearing his shoes in the house. Always prepared.

“Suit yourself,” is his last parting words before he strolls out of the apartment, banging the door shut behind him and leaving you two to the mess.

The first thing you do after they leave is get up and make sure Sae’s okay—although you’re quick to realise he’s not, because his pants are soaked with the tea and there are cuts on his feet and ankles, none too deep but they are still the result of your father’s temper and you feel only guilt. He got into this shit because he was trying to defend you.

But you find out that you’re always underestimating Sae when you feel his strong grip around your arm, preventing you from moving even more.

“Hey, careful, you’ll get hurt,” he tells you, harshly but only because he cares.

You manage a weak smile, “says the one who’s already hurt.”

Sae chuckles, ruffling your hair. “It’s fine, just some small cuts. But you really weren’t lying about your parents. Real piece of work.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting on the couch, Sae letting you tend to his wounds. You have the first aid kit out, and the mess in the dining room is long gone, both you and Sae’s date night ruined because of it.

“Sorry about him. He’s… always been like that.”

There’s a sombre mood in the air, but Sae sighs and flicks you on the forehead. “It’s not your fault, don’t apologise.”

You smile at him, a quiet understanding falling into place. You don’t need to explain your father’s temper and Sae doesn’t need your apologies.

“For what it’s worth, thank you.”

Sae nods, though he feels there’s nothing to thank him for. It may have taken him a while, but he’s figuring this out slowly. If anything, he’s sorry it’s taking him so long. It’s just that since the longest time, there was only one person he’d thought of marrying and now… there’s you.

Your hand reaches out to his feet, dabbing alcohol lightly on the cuts, and Sae doesn’t even flinch. You slowly reach the cuts on his ankle until you freeze.

“It won’t hurt so don’t worry,” Sae tells you, as if you’re the one that needs consoling.

You furrow your brows, unsure, though you heed his words and dab on it lightly. There’s a big scar lining his ankles, and now that he’s changed out into his shorts, you see a similar one lining his knees. All on the right side.

“You can ask if you want to.”

Trust it to Sae to figure out what’s going on in your head.

“How did you get it?”

Sae smiles, but it’s filled with more melancholy than mirth. His eyes seem like they’re gazing into thin air. “Your father seems to use his own physicality when he’s unhappy with something,” Sae ponders, eyes focusing back on your face. “Mine tends to leave me alone. Until I leave him with no other choice but to hire other people to do the hurting.”

You listen to him as you tend to all the cuts, trying to be gentler with the red on his skin, burned slightly from the tea.

“I told you I wanted to do something else right?”

You nod.

“I was dead set on a soccer career instead of taking over the business.”

“You mean, like Rin is now?”

Sae nods. “Yep. Exactly like Rin. Taught that little guy everything he knew.” He chuckles a little, and you can see how fond he is of his little brother, even if he doesn’t express it all that much. “But once they found out both of us wanted nothing to do with their business, that’s when things got ugly. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say they have a certain vision that they wanted me to uphold, and this—” he gestures to the scars on his leg—“was a warning of what would happen to Rin if I refused.”

As an older sibling yourself, you guess you can understand why Sae quit. But going so far as to hurt your own children like that—both your father and his seem to be assholes in their own rights.

“Can you still play at all?” You ask, out of genuine curiosity.

Sae sighs, pondering. “Yeah, but I get tackled once and that’s probably it for me,” he says, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh. “Why? Wanna watch me play that bad?”

You grin. “Depends, is my dear husband gonna let me?”

Sae’s brows raise in surprise. “Oh, someone’s getting comfortable,” he points out, and you can’t stop grinning, earning a shake of his head. “Maybe next time, stupid. We still got dinner.”

“Okay since you’re hurt, I’m gonna cook, okay?”

“I got a few cuts, I’m not a cripple.”

“La la la can’t hear you,” you hum, winking at him before skipping over to the kitchen, intent on saving date night by at least cooking a decent dinner. 

Back at the couch, Sae suppresses a smile as he looks at you, and he wonders what is it about you that he can’t shake off, that he can’t help but let in. He tilts his head in wonder; maybe it’s your adamant nature. In how you’re always nice no matter how much of an asshole he is.

After seeing what your father is like, he feels the guilt building up from the back of his head. If that’s what you had to endure everyday as a child, he doesn’t find your demeanour now to be all that weird.

Before he can even think of anything else, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Fuck, it’s Mirin. It’s Mirin who he’d promised to go find because whatever it is she’s going through, it sounds like a lot and she’s sobbing her guts out, apparently. And now he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

“Do you want spicy or garlicky?”

It’s something so small, so tiny—just your voice from the kitchen, the clanging of pans as you hurry to cook a dish for him, and the fact that he knows you’d let him go if he told you he has somewhere to be.

Just like that, the answer isn’t so complicated anymore.

He rejects the call and opens up her message thread, typing in a won’t make it tonight, sorry before he switches off his phone.

“Mmm, garlicky,” he says the moment he reaches you, standing behind you as he watches you mix the sauce together.

You bring a spoonful up to your lips, tasting it. “Think it needs some salt, what about you?” You ask, offering him the small concoction in your saucer pan.

But Sae doesn’t take it, instead he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, his tongue savouring every single inch of you he can taste, his hand on your waist, pulling you close.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but stare at him blankly, in a daze because is this really happening? Sae can tell what’s going on in your head, but he throws you a bone by not teasing you about it.

“I think it’s perfect.”

By the next time you see Sumi in the office, she can sense the radiant glow from your face, hurriedly rushing over to your desk.

“Wow, I take it date night went well?”

You nod, not being able to contain your surprise. “Very well.”

Sumi asks for the details, and you divulge, since at this point, Sumi’s the one you trust the most. Even if she’s a little loud most of the time, you’re sure that you can call her a good friend.

“I’m so jealous, your marriage sounds like a dream,” she gushes while the two of you are having lunch.

You hesitate a little, the mention of it makes you think back to the Mirin issue. So far, you haven’t seen anything else that are any red flags, so at least that’s a step in the right direction… right?

“Uh oh, I know that look, tell me!”

So you give her the bare minimum, about how Sae had an ex-girlfriend who he seemingly can’t get over, about her calling him during the honeymoon and your little stalking spree. Sumi immediately does the same, typing in her phone before scrolling through her posts, unimpressed.

“She looks like she’s trouble,” Sumi remarks offhandedly, thumb pressing on the story that she apparently just uploaded five minutes ago and you completely freeze up. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Her story seems completely innocent until you realise you can tell exactly where she is: in your own house, at your own kitchen, taking a picture where Sae’s hand is barely visible, no doubt in a bid to make it seem mysterious.

“She’s in my fucking house.”

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog @astruoise @scaraslover @beaniedoodz @bersuadikotatua @idk-bro-gay @etoiile @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu @yourstrulyharu **bolded: means i can’t tag you guys because of your settings >_<