#builtcage ━━━━ slow if not selective activity (private) writing blog directed by el. rules/muses tbd. just don’t be weird or mean. nsfw + triggers present. they/them.
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@builtcage
#builtcage ━━━━ slow if not selective activity (private) writing blog directed by el. rules/muses tbd. just don’t be weird or mean. nsfw + triggers present. they/them.

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i return (soon)
🧍🏻♂️
work tomorrow at 5am i might as well d*e
❝ nope. ❞ flippant response elicits cheerily amongst tone, this little stare down of theirs unrelenting. appeared neither were keen on backing down, that's fine, this is the reaction she wanted anyway ⸻ wasn't it? the small hints of jealousy poking through his otherwise nonchalant response. the smarter thing to do here was to communicate with him, tell him how she feels ... what she wants. but, she's not an idiot. is aware that the expanse of a conversation like that would be filled to the brim with empty promises. & so, she'll settle on getting whatever sort of rise out of him that she could. ❝ like i said, i already agreed to it. and the fans loved it the last time, you know? why not give the people what they want? ❞
communication remains stark, almost reluctant and izac can feel the familiarity of his chest tightening with every word thrown. calmly playing role of unbothered suitor didn’t mesh, and he thinks if conversation had happened prior ⸻ you know, the one about exclusivity ⸻ then maybe he wouldn’t be feeling such vitriol. “ you’re acting like it’s some groundbreaking art. which i mean, let’s be real here molly, the only ‘fans’ who’re going to like it are guys you wouldn’t look twice at. ” ah, there it is. the almost scoff, the slight teetering on the edge of possessiveness that comes with jealousy ⸻ everything he wished to hide. but, now it’s out in the open, homme assumes he can’t swallow it back; in fact, he doesn’t think he wants to. so, he nods, slowly as if to gather a wavering trail of thoughts and unspoken feelings. “ you couldn’t have asked me before? i mean, it would’ve been nice to at least be considered here. ”

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he does know that. could convince himself within this miniscule beat between lines, that he knows her best. above his brother, her boyfriend. at the very least, he noticed ⸻ how could he not? some part of him believed that she wanted him to, went out of her way, even. ❝ riiiiight ... and he's just like, alright with that? ❞ he asks, but already knows the answer. if kaien knew she was here, he'd have been right behind her, in toe. ❝ you must've forgotten he's my brother, and i know there's no way in hell he'd let you come here, without him. ❞ not even for any lingering thoughts aki may have, but for the riffraff surrounding them. abundance of men without a moral compass. ❝ so, ❞ begins, frame leaning slightly into hood of his car. ❝ wanna try that answer again? ❞
“ mhm, had a conversation and everything. ” one-sided, that is anyway. reya knows she can’t fool aki as much she could anyone else, he’s right after all ⸻ there was no way in hell she’d be here if it was up to kaien. but, there’s still a teetering of hope that places itself on features, the glimmer of her gaze that shines, even though it’s entirely misplaced ⸻ lost somewhere it shouldn’t be ⸻ and femme’s arms are loosely hanging over her hips as her weight shifts. not uncomfortably, but maybe the opposite. “ i mean, i’m not his property, but i’d be lying if i said we didn’t get into some dumb fight earlier. ” she gives in after a few seconds of ringing silence, despite scenes that happen around them, and her spine straightens further when he asks, “ so my answer is staying the same. ” definitive and doubling down now, apparently. “ is that okay with you? ”
hadn't meant to be, well ⸻ this guy, right now. blowing up her phone was one thing, showing up there was an entirely different ballpark. he knows that, even in liquor induced state, he's well aware of the situations he continues to make worse. doesn't even expect her to answer ... expression deadpans when she appears within doorway, the words lost on the tip of his tongue. she looked pissed, & rightfully so. ❝ i just ⸻ fuck, olive. i miss you. ❞
tongue drags on the side of her lip as she stands there, waiting, with breath that seems to catch in throat. olive can’t leave him out there ⸻ a moral compass that tilts one way more so than the other ⸻ yet everything inside of her is telling her to close the door. go back to bed. anything except this. “ you’re drunk, ” because if it wasn’t for the lingering scent, there wasn’t any other explanation for his appearance; they were done, he knew that. right? lost for words, unsure of how to phrase her vexation, so she goes the opposite, long awaited sigh that emits from parted lips. “ ⸻ are you coming in, then? ”
closed for @speedemons 𝜗𝜚 grey shows up at olive’s unprompted, chaos ensues (or not we shall see).
“ ⸻ what are you doing here? ” unbashful tone infiltrates timbre, firm and straight to the point. no more beating around the bush : she’s over being soft. awoken from slumber by hounding of phone, vibration after vibration, then the hard shell of knuckles against wood followed. now she’s hung on the frame, tempted to slam it in his face ⸻ just to prove a point. “ you have 30 seconds to tell me, grey. ”
open to: m or f. premise: your muse has been reluctant to put a label on theirs and molly's relationship. she's recently been asked to do a shoot completely nude, and she's ( absolutely ) using it to make them jealous.
❝ i mean ⸻ i already said yes, can't exactly back out of it now. wouldn't look good, don't you think? ❞ the high-pitched timbre sells it short, obvious in the way she's purposely trying to make it all seem nonchalant. though, hues remain planted against countenance, like she's counting down the seconds until their rebuttal spills out, irritated & vexed. ❝ it's not like i've never done a shoot like this before, it'll be fine. ❞
he thinks this to be his own karma, a punishment for refusing seriousness in the midst of something he could claim. someone he could, if wanted. despite vexation on the tip of tongue, izac’s throat clears, a moment of clarity washing through timbre just as his hand coasts through hair. “ ⸻ can’t someone else do it? ” his question, posed casually, insinuates anything but, fingertips dancing on the counter, perched on the side while gaze fixates. “ i mean, like you said, you’ve done it before, so, why do another? ” refuses to break countenance of frustration, the bubbling molten in the pit of his stomach nonetheless.
open to: f. premise: aki & his brother are a part of an underground street racing ring. your muse, kaien's girlfriend, has shown up to aki's race to support him ⸻ he's lowkey got some big strong feels for his brothers girly.
❝ you know how these motherfuckers like to talk around here ... and you know kaien's not even racing tonight, so ⸻ ❞ pauses, accusatory timbre dripping off of each syllable. eyes her like she's some sort of intruder, but he knows ... she wasn't there for his brother at all. has unfamiliar feeling sprawling about chest, heightens his breath just slightly, but he's a natural at playing it cool. like she hadn't just made him lose any & all focus just by her presence alone. ❝ looks a little bit strange, his girlfriend showing up to cheer me on, don't you think? ❞
“ i do ⸻ but you should know the last thing i care about is what people say about me. ” or anything, for that matter. reya is leaving out key details, something of her selective retelling of events that lead her to come alone : while not entirely unfamiliar, when kaien wasn’t racing, she was more recluse. just … not tonight, apparently. head tilts at his question, skimming the rolodex of her rebuttals before she settles on a shrug, manicured digits combing through curls that brush along her shoulder. “ i mean … he knows i’m here, if that’s what you’re worried about. what’s wrong with me supporting family, hm? ”

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