#but they still help out so much and the only thing i make that brings in monies anymore hahaaa

[phantomspren]

I was just going to put this in tags but I'll put it here.

This is why I'm uncomfortable when people make sweeping generalizations about conservatives/Republicans.

On a fundamental level, I do disagree with the political beliefs that lead people to holding those labels.

But at the same time, there's such a huge difference between someone who is Republican because they think that we should have lower taxes, and someone who is Republican because they think rich white men are the only people worthy of rights.

When we make those blanket statements of "every Republican is racist" or whatever, we're making it less likely that those people are going to do stuff like this. Often it leads to people doubling down on their beliefs, even if they are inherently harmful.

You also have people like my mom. She is a registered Republican, born and raised in Idaho, super super Mormon.

She's a registered Republican because she thinks that society should be built to promote the family and help families thrive.

But she also supports universal healthcare.

I tell her all the things I think are cool about Harris and Walz and she's always like "wow, yeah, that is really cool!"

She's a high school teacher and because of that now supports gun control.

She doesn't give a shit that I'm aroace. (Haven't talked about gender stuff but I'd feel pretty comfortable bringing it up at this point to be honest.)

The thing is that the public/left awareness of the Republican party has shifted, following the people who are in power. Because those in power are getting more extreme.

There are people who have always held really extreme right-wing beliefs.

There are people like many who are voting for Trump who used to be less extreme, but have followed those in positions in power in gradually making their views more extreme.

There are those like my mom and dad who have some not great but far more reasonable beliefs who feel like the Republican party no longer represent them.

It's important to talk about those problematic beliefs that people like my parents hold, but at the end of the day they are genuinely good people. They've got internalized racism and homophobia and misogyny just like everyone else, but they're still good people.

Honestly even most hardcore Trump supporters are good people. (My grandparents voted for him! They're some of the kindest people I know!)

But if we just throw everyone under the label of "Republican" and then assume that includes things like homophobe, white supremacist, etc, you're going to end up with a lot of people who don't want to get behind what you're behind.

It's so much better, in my experience, to build a report, built trust, try to genuinely understand where the other person is coming from. I've talked to my Trump voting grandparents about trans people and they listened to me. I may not have changed their minds, but they have at least seen that other side from someone they respect.

That's going to go a whole lot more good in the long run than just calling them Republican and never talking to them again.

Of course there's more nuance than this, and if someone has like genuine beliefs that. Really really not great. Dump their ass. It's not worth it. There's a difference between someone who's a white supremacist because that's what they deeply believe, and someone who's just parroting what they saw elsewhere. The later deserve time and understanding, because they have the potential to turn into the former but aren't there yet.

And of course there are people like my mom. If she took a political compass quiz it would tell her she's liberal, hands down. Still a registered Republican.

Anyways, these are thoughts I've had for a bit and maybe I'll write something later that's a bit more planned out. Hope that makes sense.

And there's just a ton of nuance here that I can't get into because I've almost hit my time limit on Tumblr and I need to go take an exam. Plus it's dumb to expect me to elaborate on every possible way this could be misinterpreted. Just assume I kinda know what I'm talking about please, unless I accidentally said something blatantly incorrect. O7

Please vote tomorrow.

Be compassionate.

Imagine those around you complexly.

Think about my mom. :p

Have a cat picture for the road.

i'm a huge fan of Republicans, conservatives or however you want to be politically labeled choosing country over party. please let me see more stories. it's a brave thing to do this. even if you voted for him in both 2016 & 2020 but you changed your mind now, WELCOME. it's a massive deal to get out of any cult successfully & MAGA is no different. being filled with anger & hatred, & fear is intoxicating & honestly easier than choosing to do the right thing. i'm glad you saw the light.

check your registration status often & don't stop talking about Project 2025. they can pretend they're distancing themselves from it as much as they want but it's absolutely their policy. we can do this though if we just show up & VOTE. we got this 💙

[oracle-of-dream]

Welcome to the Dollhouse

Summary: Y/n is down on their luck making financial ends meet. When a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity forces them into a bargain that can't refuse. Now, they find themselves at a party searching for a partner but the person they get is someone they'd never expect.

Notes: Male Reader, Dubious Contracts, Financial Struggles, Idol Jay, Enhypen exists, Fake names, Kissing

Wordcount: 6.9k

It’s funny to think about how much money can buy. Many people say it can’t buy happiness, love, or fulfillment. But when push comes to shove. Money makes the world go round…

Being in college was all you wanted. A chance to get an education that was enough to get you away from the boring life that awaited you if you decided to miss out. Moving to a big city, far away from your parents wasn’t even the hard part. It was paying for college… You managed to land a decent scholarship, as long as you did your school work and did some volunteering to make the school look good then you’d be safe to coast through without any worries. Or that was the case. In your second semester of freshman year, one picture put you dead in the water.

It was your first party. No parents to worry about what time you’d be back. Friends watch you in case things get too crazy. And a cute guy who invited you. A frat boy.By the end of the night, videos of you drinking online circulated. And being a year under the drinking age wasn’t a good look either. The school tore away your scholarship, you were lucky they didn’t expel you. You didn’t have the heart to tell your parents what happened, so you had to find a way to pay for school alone. You looked for private loans, but most wouldn’t accept you without a guarantor, someone to pay them back if you couldn’t. And working odd jobs wouldn’t earn you enough money before the next semester. That’s where The Dollhouse entered the picture. 

This was the sixth bank you’d visited. You were desperate. Waiting for the subway, you were approached by a man in a long black coat. He was older than you, but not by much, his early thirties max. He wore a black shirt and pants, with black hair to match. He was almost like a shadow… if shadows were handsome men. “Excuse me, you dropped this!” He exclaimed as he rushed over to you. He had your phone in his hand, ready to offer it to you.

You must’ve dropped it at the bank. “Thank you so much! I’d be dead without this.”

“You should be more careful! You never know what kind of people you’ll meet. Stranger Danger and all that.”

You giggled. He sounded like your Dad saying that. “Aren’t you a stranger?”

He tilted his head to the side, pondering your point. “I suppose so. You can call me Seo-jun.”

“I’m y/n. Sorry for making you chase me here, and thanks again for bringing me my phone.”

He shook his head. “It’s no problem. I have to go this way for work anyway.”

“What kind of job do you have?”

“I’m sorta like a manager. I help connect people looking for work with clients looking for workers.” Seo-jun smiled wryly. “But right now, business is down. Some workers quit recently, and our clients want more new faces.”

You felt a pang in your stomach. You’d been cutting out meals to save money and your job was still only paying minimum wage. Considering you had a bit of free time, you took a chance. “I could lend a hand. I could use the money, and you did help me. It’s only fair that I return the favor.”

Seo-jun’s smile faded a bit. “Um… You’re a nice kid. But I don’t think our work is good for you.”

Originally you were offering just to be nice, but now your interest was piqued. “W-Why not?” 

“Don’t be like that. You look like a hard worker, but it’s not ordinary work. The paychecks are nice, but I’d hate to see such a good kid like you work there.”

“How well does it pay?”

“That’s beside the point–”

“How much does it pay!?” You demanded.

“Depending on your client. After fees from management, I’ve seen some workers make over $4,000 in less than a week of work.” Seo-jun sighed.

4k in a week could set you up for the entire semester before the end of the summer, and then some! “Take me to work with you! Please!” Seo-jun tried not to look you in the eye, but you gripped his arm and refused to let go. “Then you’ll have to walk with me there. I’ll just talk to your boss.”

“Woah, woah. I’ll take you there, just don’t make a scene. People are staring,” He whispered, trying to peel you off him.

Thankfully it wasn’t too far of a train ride. You spent it wondering what kind of work they’d had you do. You weren’t well-dressed, having sold off most of your nice clothing. Maybe if there were uniforms, then your clothes wouldn’t be much of a problem. Seo-jun was silent for most of the ride, texting someone. His face was dark, which made his face stand out more. He wasn’t just pretty, he was extremely handsome. His black hair settled on his forehead and dipped slightly past his eyebrow making him even more attractive. The type of look no one could get enough of. And a few of the girls on the train agreed with you, from how they stared.

Seo-jun guided you off the train after another five stops. You walked a few blocks, turned a corner, and approached a black building wedged between two pale ones. Before knocking, Seo-jun looked at you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I think I can handle it.” You were a bit nervous. There weren’t many people on this street, and the building was tall and imposing in the quiet neighborhood.

Seo-jun knocked on the door. It cracked open, and a big man with tattoos peeked through the crack. Once he registered who was at the door, it closed again before opening completely. Seo-jun said nothing as he entered the building, and you closely followed behind him. The large man shut the door behind you. Now you saw him completely, he looked more like an NFL player. He could easily throw you around if he wanted to. Seo-jun didn’t pay the man any mind, walking forward as he passed several doors. Each had a sign on it. Most said open and a few said occupied. The doors were closed and looked pretty heavy. It was so quiet, you could only hear the sounds of your footsteps on the tile. Seo-Jun led you to an office at the end of the hallway, putting in a key from his pocket and unlocking it. He sat down behind the desk, which was covered with papers. 

“Come in and take a seat, y/n.” 

You sat down in the chair in front of the desk. The room had a red velvet wall, and pictures of models. Or at least, they seemed like models. All of them were men in their early twenties, each was different but handsome. You even saw one that looked like Seo-Jun.

“Is that you?” You pointed at the photo.

Seo-Jun didn’t look. “Not anymore. That was a long time ago.” You raised an eyebrow. He looked almost the same in the photo as in front of you. But maybe it wasn’t the best time to push him to spill more. 

“Why are you looking for money?” Seo-Jun questioned.

“College. It’s expensive, ya know?”

He scoffed. “Yeah. I know. Don’t you have parents, or any other family who can help?”

You shook your head. “That’s not an option.” Thinking about your family left a bitter taste in your mouth. They’d be so disappointed if they knew how bad things had gotten.

He pursed his lips like he understood the feeling. “How much money do you need?”

“Ideally, enough for school.”

“Give me a number.”

“It’s about $10k a semester. More if I live on campus.”

“Okay, and when school’s not in session, do you have a place to live? Around here, specifically.” You shook your head. You caught yourself about to talk about your family home, but maybe it was best not to… Seo-Jun typed a few things on a calculator on his phone, opened a laptop, and waited for it to start. “Okay. If you start working with us, it's like this. We’ll give you the money and other necessities you need, and you have to work off that amount.”

“You’ll give me the money?”

“I’ll have you log into your student account, and I’ll pay your semester in advance now. But that’s only if you accept our offer.”

“Of course!”

Seo-Jun sighed. “Please hear me completely before you decide.” He straightened his back as he pulled the laptop closer to him. He typed a few things before turning the computer around, and showing you the screen. It was a camera feed. “This is what we do.”

You watched closely. It looked like a guy your age was in a room with another person. They were talking. You were about to look away, shrugging it off before you saw the boy kneel on the ground. He was doing something to the older man’s pants. You leaned in to see, but the camera wasn’t clear enough.

“What is this?”

“This is the job. Be a partner for your clients, whatever that means for them. Then they’ll pay you for the service.” Seo-Jun’s jaw went slack. “Like I said, this isn’t an ordinary job. But if you take it, we’ll take care of you. You’ll have a home and meals, and we’ll keep our end of the bargain and pay for school.”

You sat back in your chair as the reality of the offer landed on you. Being hired, partner… A fancy way to say, prostitute. Was this really the only way?

“I know that you don’t want to pressure your family with your financial situation. And I’ll be honest, we didn’t bump into each other by mistake.” Seo-Jun pulled your phone out of his pocket.

You didn’t even realize you’d dropped it…

“You didn’t drop it. I stole it. I needed an excuse to talk to you, and for you to trust me. I know you’ve been looking for loans, but can’t get any.” Seo-Jun leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “We need workers, and you need our help. Or… does your sweet mother wanna hear about your scholarship?”

A cold sweat ran down your neck. You’d walked right into a cage and didn’t even realize it. “What scholarship?” You gulped.

“The one you lost. It’s a shame. How one mistake can ruin everything for you, isn’t it?” Seo-Jun put a video on the laptop, the same one that ruined your chances of living a normal college life. “We can make it so the video never sees the light of day again, as a bonus for signing with us. You won’t have to worry about mommy seeing it, or knowing how you lost your scholarship. You’ll have school paid for, and have time to study. All you need to do is be a worker.” Seo-Jun pulled a piece of paper from a stack on his desk, a pre-printed contract, with your name at the top. “You can read through it if you’d like. Everything I promised is in there.”

Seo-Jun placed the paper on the desk, sliding it toward you, with a pen on top.

“How can you do this to people?” You mumbled.

“It’s never easy. I did try to give you a warning, but you insisted.”

“That was before I knew this!” You wanted to throw the paper at him and storm out, but your legs were glued to the seat. This was a once-in-a-lifetime offer.

“I’ll also mention. Any extra “gifts” you get from your clients will be yours to keep. Frequently, we get high-profile clients who love to have specific partners they visit. And they bring them gifts every time they visit; from clothes and jewelry to cars and even buildings.” Seo-Jun stood from his seat, walking around the desk to lean on it close to you. “It’s a good deal. Fair and transparent. If you’re lucky, you’ll be out fast. And your identity is completely concealed within our walls. No one will ever know you worked here unless we want them to know.” He picked up your hand and the pen, placing them together. “So, what’s the call?”

Your jaw was so tight, you struggled to speak, “C-Can I sleep on this?” 

“No. Once you walk out the door, the offer’s gone.” He said flatly.

The pressure was too much. You couldn’t think of anything. There was no real way out, and this was too good of an offer to pass. Even if you refused, how could you afford the new semester? You sighed heavily before moving the pen to the paper, slowly signing your name. The red ink flowed on the paper, drying into a deep crimson like you were using your blood to sign.

“Excellent. As of today, you’re a part of the Dollhouse.” Seo-Jun snatched the paper off the desk, folding it and tucking it into his back pocket. “Here’s this back,” He handed your phone back to you. “One more thing, if you violate our contract or try to run. We’ll drag your ass back here faster than you can blink. If not then your parents will have to pay off the loan.”

Your head hung. Guilt sat on your shoulder as you leaned back in the chair. This was your fate now…

Seo-Jun handed you a card. “You’ll go back to your dorm. When you do, call this number and answer whatever questions they ask. We’ll have to come by in about a week for measurements.”

“What measurements?”

“We need your body measurements to advertise you. And we’ll have to dress you, give you a nice haircut, and dress you up. Which, the Dollhouse will pay for. This will add to your debt, naturally.”

“I-I don’t want it then!”

“If you don’t look nice, no one will ask for you. If not, then you won’t make any money. If you make us no money, you’ll be stuck in our arrangement for a while.” Seo-Jun frowned. “I don’t enjoy this, so let’s make this as easy as possible. There’s an event next week where new clients can meet our workers clandestinely. It’s like a mixer, speed-dating. That’s your best way to get a high-roller on your account to support you.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is so stupid. Why would anyone pick me anyway?”

Seo-Jun glared at you. “Do not talk about yourself like that. If you start looking down on yourself, clients can tell you don’t value yourself. If you can value yourself, how can you value them?”

Seo-Jun sent you back on your way, giving you directions back home. The ride back home felt like hours. All you could do was try not to cry. You tried so hard to come to the city to be someone different than how you could’ve been back home, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. You got back to your dorm. It was dark and quiet, just like that building. You were lucky enough not to have any roommates. No one to hear you cry yourself to sleep…

In the morning, you woke up as your phone rang. You rolled over, ignoring the call. But it rang, again and again. After the fourth phone call in a row, you looked at it. It was an unknown number.

You answered cautiously. “H-Hello?”

“Y/n? Have you lost your mind?” Seo-Jun said, with disappointment in his tone.

“How did you get this number?”

“I stole your phone. I knew I had to get your number too. Just in case you ran off.” He sighed. “I thought you did for a moment. That would’ve been a lot of trouble for the both of us… Why didn’t you call me when you got home?”

You’d completely forgotten about calling the number on the card. “Sorry. It slipped my mind.”

“Let’s get rid of that habit. Being forgetful isn’t cute. Some clients will call you at different times of the day and don’t take kindly to being ignored. You’ve got a job that’s busier than full-time. It’s 24/7.”

“Well, what do you want, Seo-Jun?”

“When we’re talking business, please call me Mr. Seo-Jun.”

You groaned but knew he wasn’t joking. “What do you want, Mr. Seo-Jun?”

“I need you to tell me your school login. I want to see your schedule for classes and pay your bill.” You told him without any fuss. You were too tired to give a damn anymore. “There’s a good boy. Now, you can go back to the rest of your week. I’ll keep in touch.”

Seo-Jun hung up before you could answer him. It was Wednesday, meaning your classes started later in the day. You took your time showering and picking out clothes. It was thirty minutes before class when you went to the bus stop. Like clockwork, your friend, Eun, waited for you to arrive.

Eun was a friend you made during the first semester of college. He was 5’9” and goofy, often laughing at his jokes like a comedy club. He probably heard a laugh track in his head when he told jokes. He usually dressed in bright-colored shirts, denim jeans, and a big smile. He was also there for you when you’d gone through the frat party fiasco. Most of your “friends” had ditched you, throwing you under the bus for drinking to save their necks. But Eun was the only one who stayed by your side.

Eun waved at you as you walked toward him. “Good morning!”

“Morning, Eun.”

He studied your face for a moment. “Yeesh, what happened? You look like you had a rough sleep.”

“Thanks, buddy. You always know just what to say…” You sighed as you looked up at the sky.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. Seriously dude, are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure… then, you’ll wanna hear about how Enhypen are coming to the area to perform.”

Your eyes bulged. “Enhypen’s coming here!? No fucking way, when!?”

“The news dropped this morning. They’re holding a small concert on campus around next week!” 

Your stomach churned. Next week!? That’s when the mixer was supposed to be. Maybe you could ask Seo-Jun for a day off to attend the concert…

Eun saw your smile drop. “Hey, dude, seriously. What’s going on? Normally you’re super excited about this kind of stuff.”

“I am. I’ve got some stuff happening next week, so I hope they don’t overlap.” You prayed that it would be some swift joke that would pass you by…

The next few days passed, and you kept a close eye on your phone. Not a single call or text from your new boss. Or would your owner be the right word? You checked your school login a few days ago, and your school bill for the next semester was already paid in advance. It was good to know Seo-Jun was a man of his word. But it also meant that everything else he’d said would pass too. It wasn’t until Monday that you got some news. 

The Enhypen concert was on a Friday. Which made sense, students would stay on campus all the time. So why not have a concert that night? However, your morning was disturbed by a call. You answered it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Good job answering the first time. You’re learning.” You could hear the smirk on his face.

“Let’s get to the part where you tell me what you want.”

“To the point it is. The date of the mixer is set to be this Friday night, it’ll be pretty late so get your homework done in time.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like you care about my schoolwork.”

“Of course I do. I’m the one paying for it.”

“What time exactly is the mixer?”

“Why?” Seo-Jun questioned.

“Well, there’s a concert happening on campus and I wanted to go–”

Seo-Jun sucked his teeth. “No. You’re expected to be here before sunset so we can get you ready. Tardiness will only put the whole team behind schedule, and some client’s time is precious.”

“But–”

“Be here. Friday. After class. Bye.” Seo-Jun hung up without another word.

You huffed a heavy sigh as you texted Eun that you wouldn’t attend the concert. Naturally, he was concerned about why and questioned you, but you lied about having a family matter to attend to. He promised to take videos for you at least. It left you feeling like a dog on a leash. Any time Seo-Jun pulled on it, you had no choice but to follow his orders. In the days before the mixer, he asked you more questions about the style of clothes you’d enjoy, strengths, weaknesses, talents, quirks, birthmarks, anything you hated, and even your allergies.

On Friday, after your last class. There was a black SUV waiting outside your dorm. Walking past the suspicious car, the window rolled down. “Just going to ignore me?” Seo-Jun’s voice whistled out. You turned to see him sitting in the back seat. “Get in. Time for fitting.”

“I just got home. Don’t I get to change or something?”

“Does it matter? You’d just be changing just to change again. You’ll have time to relax while waiting for the mixer to start.” You got in the car, tossing your backpack in. The car was nice. You didn’t recognize the driver. 

Seo-Jun handed you a folder. “Does everything in here look right?”

You opened it. It was almost like a resume, all about you. From an approximate height and weight to even an ethnicity check. “How did you guess my ethnicity? I didn’t tell you that.”

He shrugged. “The internet is a scary place. If you’ve put it somewhere online before, it's on the dark web.” They closed the folder and tucked it into a briefcase. “So, let me explain the mixer a bit. Generally, it's an event for our workers to meet new clients. But also for some of our clients to show off to their rich buddies and convince them to invest in our services. Be presentable, flexible, and obedient to earn attention.” Out of the briefcase, Seo-Jun produced pictures of young men pandering to their clients. “Now, we never call our clients “clients” to their face. They’re our partners. And you’ll need a persona. Something that’s already similar to who you are so you don’t need to act too much. Some like them feisty, others like our boys a little more submissive.”

“How do I come up with one?”

“Don’t, just be you and they will. Once you’ve got one, then stick to it. The savior types might be your best bet, so maybe you’ll get them with a sort of damsel persona.”

“Savior types?”

“The ones who get off on the fact they’re helping you. Like they’re the only ones who ever could, so you need them to save you.”

There was so much nuance to this… It made your head hurt just thinking about it. 

Seo-Jun studied your expression. “It’s your first one, so don’t worry about standing out. You’ll be standing with the newbies, like a puppy in an adoption bin. All the newbies are workers without a regular client, so they’re a bit cutthroat when someone gets close.”

“Anything else?” You sighed as you scrolled through your phone.

Seo-Jun leaned forward and snatched it, putting it inside his briefcase.“Also, you can't use phones. You’ll be engaged the whole time, so we can’t risk distractions. And we can’t let you take any photos of anyone.” 

You grumbled as you looked out of the heavily tinted windows. The rest of the car ride was silent, even the car didn’t make much noise. After the car ride, you were escorted into the Dollhouse. Upstairs were the living quarters for all the “Dolls” as Seo-Jun called them. You were now one of the Dolls of his house. Each doll was awarded their room. Some got to move out if their clients bought them a place to stay, but they weren’t allowed to leave the city without permission. And, each doll had a name. Something they’d go by. Your new name, Minsu, means Elegant and Beautiful according to Seo-Jun. 

“Okay. From now on, anytime you’re in the dollhouse or with a client, you’ll be called Minsu. Clients can pay to change their name. But it's how we can identify you without exposing your identity.” Seo-Jun elaborated, “We’ve had issues in the past of clients who get too attached to their dolls and tried to approach someone’s family to ask permission to marry their song. Which, of course, we dealt with before disaster struck.”

Minsu… You’re new name. Nothing was yours anymore. Your body, time, and now name wasn’t even yours.

“Let’s practice.” Seo-Jun cleared his throat. “Minsu, how are you?”

You hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’m fine… Mr. Seo-Jun.”

“Good job. You even remembered Mr.” He smiled. Seo-Jun put your backpack in your room. It was a simple room, with a bed, desk, and wardrobe. It was bare. “You can decorate it with what you want, it's all yours. But if your client gives you a gift, I’d recommend making a space for it. They notice this kind of stuff.”

You looked around the room. The floor was hardwood, cold, and slightly creaky. You weren’t given much time to settle before Seo-Jun took you to the next floor. “This is the dressing room. We dress the dolls here in outfits when they have to attend events. We also have makeup available, if you don’t know how to use it we can teach you. You are expected to wear makeup, shave, and keep your body healthy while in our care.” There were two older women there. It was the first time you’d seen women in the dollhouse so far.

“This is Jill and Mary. They’re the main doll caretakers and your beauticians. They make you beautiful on the inside and out for our clients. They also help with cooking and cleaning, so please treat them kindly.”

You nodded to them shyly.

Mary cracked a smile. Her caramel brown skin had glitter around her eyes, and her smile was so white even the crayon wouldn’t be able to keep up. Her clothes were simple but chic like she was about to walk a runway. Jill was white, her most notable feature was her colorful hair. Her tattoos, where they could be seen, were amazingly detailed. She had a snake slithering up her throat, ready to bite her chin.

Seo-Jun cleared his throat. “Introduce yourself.”

“O-Oh! I’m y/n.”

Seo-Jun chuckled. “Not that name, remember?”

“I have to use my fake name with other workers too?”

Seo-Jun frowned. “It’s not fake. It’s your name. It’s just a second one to the one you’re born with. And yes, anonymity is our friend here. So use the name that you were given, please.”

You turned to the women, who were smiling expectantly. “Hi… I’m Minsu. I guess.”

Mary spoke first, “You’ll get used to it. It’s a transitory period right now so just take it slow.” Jill nodded in agreement. “Now, you’re here for fitting, right?” You could tell Mary had a slight English accent, but she was suppressing it.

“I’ll leave it to you. Minsu’s a very good boy, he won’t cause any trouble,” Seo-Jun said as he left you with the two women. Mary and Jill were thorough, each taking a side of your body and measuring you. The length of your arms, legs, waist size, and even your bust. 

“So, this will be your first mixer, no?” Mary asked.

You nodded.

“Are we looking for something more cute or sexy with the concept here, Mary?” Jill asked.

“Let’s ask him.” 

Mary looked at you, waiting for you to answer. “Um… I guess cute?”

Jill booed at you. “You’ve got a sexy frame already. We can crop a top, get you loose-fitting shorts, and give you something cozy yet sexy.”

“Jill, let’s respect him here. Minsu doesn’t want that. Plus, he’d look way better in leather and sheer. I already know what you’re thinking. That just won’t work.”

Jill and Mary started holding up pieces over you, arguing about what to give you. Slowly they moved away from the cute vibe you’d asked for… By the end, you had a sheer shirt, black leather pants, with a leather belt around your waist, not your pants, and a gray denim jacket. You were given some silver accessories, rings, and necklaces to try on. 

You’d never worn anything so… revealing. Without your jacket or the design on the front of the shirt, you’d be shirtless. The black sheet was see-through; you could see your stomach in the mirror, and your belt only pulled attention to it. The belt was odd. It was above your pants, so make your waist smaller, so the loops used for belts were altered to move up for the belt to slide through and keep your pants up.

“Minsu, you look great!” Jill exclaimed. 

Mary nodded in agreement. “Jill was right, your body suits a sexier concept anyway. Just keep the jacket on if you’re feeling modest. But if you want to get attention, take it off halfway through the party. Pretend it's warm or something!”

The pair squealed like young girls, rambling about ways to appeal to potential clients. But you were just tired and hungry. “So, when can I eat?”

“Oh, you haven’t eaten?” Jill frowned.

“We’ll get you something light. We don’t want to bloat you too much, since you have the belt on. There’s food at the mixer but remember not to stuff your face.” Mary said as she stepped away.

“Why not?”

“Well, what if a client wants to take you home? You’ll want your body to look its best if you have to perform.” Jill squealed. You hadn’t thought of that. What if someone does show an interest in you? And they want something physical from you… Would you be able to go through with it?

Mary returned with a sliced apple. “This should hold you over for now. The mixer will be soon. We still have to do your hair and makeup. So sit, It’s alright if you doze off, we’ll take good care of you.” You listened, sitting in a studio chair as they started working, one on your hair and the other on your makeup. Like magic, you passed out almost immediately in the chair. When you opened your eyes, they’d just finished their last touches.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty. You look amazing!” You looked into the mirror in front of you. Your eyebrows had been brushed. Your shawling and nose had never been more prominent. And your hair had a shine that you could only really get from a hair salon.

“Thank you… This is great.” You mumbled as you looked over yourself.

The pair smiled triumphantly. “It's all a part of the job! So go knock them out! Seo-Jun will be here any minute to take you to the mixer.” 

They started cleaning as you left the room, going back to your room. There was a mirror on your desk. You used it to study yourself more. Their work was impeccable, with model-quality makeup in such a short time. The alone time you’d found was spoiled quickly with a knock at the door. You answered it to see Seo-Jun waiting.

“Let’s go. Leave your backpack, you can get it later.”

You put the mirror back on your desk and followed Seo-Jun out the door. The venue for the mixer was toward the downtown area in a hotel, one of the large classy ballrooms. There were waitstaff walking with finger food. Many young men, all fashionably dressed, stood around talking to each other. It was intimidating seeing some of them. They could easily be actors and models on the front of magazines… Then there was you, the college kid who wasn’t in the same league as them.

Seo-Jun led you to an empty table. “Okay, you’ll sit here. If anyone comes to you, talk to them respectfully but in a friendly manner. You’re the only doll from our house, all these other ones won’t know you. Remember, Minsu, nothing about your personal life. Or theirs. Keep everything hidden, and tell only what you need to.”

You nodded nervously. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try and point you out to a few people.” Seo-Jun turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm. He was all you’d known for the last week. And now he was leaving you alone at a table at this huge party. “If you want to be a baby, do that to clients. But with me don’t be a baby, I’ll be watching the whole time. Nothing will happen to you.” He pulled his hand away and walked off, talking to a few men in suits.

The mixer began shortly after. Men started slowly filling the room, all dressed in formal clothes, from suits or high-end outfits. Not one paid you any mind. You were relieved that no one was interested in you. You occasionally looked around the room, searching for Seo-Jun with little luck. The first hour was a panic fest, silently hoping no one would sit at your table and talk to you. In the second hour, some clients found who they liked talking to and stuck to certain areas. Some dolls had almost seven men around them at any time. In the third hour, some dolls left with their partners. 

Thankfully, not one person seemed interested in you. You’d been sitting so long that your legs started to fall asleep. You’d tried your best to eat any time the servers walked past you with a plate, but the buffet at the other end of the room was almost calling you. Cautiously, looking over your shoulders, you stood and made your way over. Walking like you knew what to do, or like you belonged. The table was full of interesting foods you’d never tried. Mostly seafood and assorted fruits. You took a plate and started stacking it with whatever seemed the yummiest, which was one of everything!

It wasn’t until you reached the end that you realized how much you’d grabbed. It wouldn’t all fit on your plate. If you tried walking back to your seat, you’d drop something… You turned, slowly toward your table when you bumped into someone, keeping the damage under control. You don’t drop your food! 

The person in front of you let out a heavy sigh. You looked forward, a huge spot on their shirt from where you’d bumped into them.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed.

He shook his head. “It’s alright, you didn’t mean to.”

You put your plate down on a nearby table. You slid the sleeve of your jacket down, making it slide off your shoulder, as you rubbed the spot. It didn’t look like it was going to clean neatly. “I’m really sorry. I can take it and get it washed?” You suggested as you looked at the man’s face.

You realized he was extremely familiar–like celebrity familiar. He had a middle part with long dark hair that draped his eyes. His jawline was sharp, and his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. 

“Do I know you?” You asked.

“Uh, no. We don’t know each other.” The man assured.

The spot wasn’t getting any better and some people were starting to stare. “How about you take my jacket for now?” You slid off your jacket, showing off your top completely to the room.

“Oh, I–That’s not necessary.” The man said, looking away from you. “Just put your jacket back on.”

“I insist! I ruined your shirt!” More people started staring, and whispering. 

“Fine! I’ll take it, just give it!” He snatched the jacket from you, pulling it over himself as he looked down. His long hair covered his face as he looked around. 

“Do you have a table? You can sit with me, and we can talk about getting your shirt cleaned.”

The man nodded again. “Fine, just take me away from here.”

You took him to your table in the corner of the room, where you’d spent the last three hours alone. Many more people were watching you this time than when you’d left. Maybe Jill was right about your shirt… It made you a little self-conscious with so much staring. You pulled out a chair for the man and sat next to him.

“I’m y-Minsu! It’s nice to meet you.” You put your hand out.

“Are things always like this?” 

You shrugged. “This is my first time here, so I don’t really know.”

The man looked around the room, acknowledging the looks. “Well… That’s nice.”

You sat awkwardly as you looked at him. You noticed Seo-Jun behind him, toward the other end of the room, motioning something to you. Talk to him?

“So, Mister? What brings you here?” You asked,

“You don’t need to call me that. My name’s Jay. I… came here for something stupid and I don’t think I should’ve come.”

You smiled at him. “You sound like someone made you come here. I didn’t want to be here either. I was so worried that someone would talk to me, but it turns out that no one would even pay attention to me.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just… don’t think this is my sort of party. And I’m not very good at meeting new people. I’m only here because I have to.”

Jay nodded. “I get that. I really only came because my members teased me about not meeting any new people.”

“Members?”

Jay’s eyes flickered to you. “Y-Yeah. I’m a part of a group. I’m a performer.”

“Whoa! Do you make music? I’d love to listen to it.”

Jay smirked. “It’s not me who makes the music. But I dabble.”

“I don’t have my phone. Tell me your band, and I’ll try to remember it.”

Jay leaned close to you to whisper, “I’m a member of Enhypen.”

You blinked. The words echoed in your brain before you looked at the man again. That’s where you’d seen him! He was Jay from Enhypen, and he was talking to you. “O-Oh, yeah I’ve heard of that group before.”

“Oh? Are you a fan?” Jay smiled. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

“I’m not trying to be weird. I am a fan, but if you wanna forget about it or talk to someone else–”

“No. You’re funny. And I think it would be better to spend time with a fan.” Jay slipped your jacket off and placed it over your shoulders. “I think this suits you better than me, by the way.” Your heart was fluttering a mile a minute. Jay said he wanted to spend time with you and even draped a jacket over your shoulders. Eun would be foaming at the mouth at this point.

“Could I ask why you’re at an all-guy mixer?”

“You can, but then I’d ask you the same question.”

“Touche…” You chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I’m here for another hour. So we can chat… or whatever.”

Jay smirked. “Would you wanna talk somewhere else?”

You nodded. “I’m cool with that. It beats talking here, with all the staring.”

“Then let’s roll,” Jay said as he stood. You followed him as he led you out of the room. You spotted Seo-Jun who gave you a thumbs-up as you passed by. Jay took you to a room in the hotel. It had an amazing view since it was on a higher floor.

“Jay, check this out! It’s so high!” You cheered.

“So, uh. I’m kind of awkward at this since I’ve never done it. I don’t have any preferences or anything. I’d be okay to start and see how it goes.” Jay said.

You turned around to see Jay sitting on the bed in the room. “What?”

“Isn’t this the part where we… do stuff?” Jay raised an eyebrow.

Your face went warm. You hadn’t thought about the context of things until now. Jay was at a party to meet a partner to spend the night with… and he’d chosen you. And like an idiot you accepted thinking he just wanted to talk.

“I-I…”

“Is it more of a, I tell you what to do?” Jay stood, walking toward you. “I’m new to this whole thing, so I’d appreciate it if you could help me.”

You couldn’t form the words you wanted. All of the thoughts in your mind couldn’t fit the situation in front of you. “I-I’m new too,” was all that you could muster.

“Well, that works for the both of us then. We can figure it out together…” Jay approached you until the both of you were at the window. Your back against it, he leaned his arm on the glass near your head. “Let’s just go slow.” 

Jay’s tone was calm and empathetic as if he were as worried as you were. He slid his free hand behind your neck and kissed you softly. Your eyes fluttered shut as you placed your hands against his chest, letting him move as he pleased. It was a peck at first. Just a touch, a test. Then Jay leaned in again for a kiss, your lips meeting for longer. His nose brushed yours as he started to move his lips experimentally to find what he liked…

[maybanksbaby]

summary: oh, poor drew has to lose his big biceps while filming queer. and oh, poor drew, is victim of his girlfriend's teasing :(

warnings: none, pretty light and fluffy 👌

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

You’re lounging on the couch, scrolling idly through your phone, when the sound of a key turning in the lock catches your attention. Glancing up, you see Drew walk through the door, looking a bit slimmer but still smiling in that warm way that lights up his whole face. He came home only for a few days, and you still couldn't get over the fact that they didn't gave you a small copy of your boyfriend, it was actually Drew. Even if you were there in his whole process of weight losing, it felt weird.

You missed those pretty big things so much it was painful.

He’s wearing a loose T-shirt and faded jeans, his hair tousled from a long day on set, and something about him seems softer around the edges—almost like he’s let his guard down after weeks of intense filming.

You sit up, an exaggerated frown on your face. “Oh, no way.” Your tone is teasing, but you can’t resist it as you give him a once-over. “What happened to those big, strong biceps of yours, Starkey? Am I seeing things, or did you trade them in for some noodles?”

Drew raises an eyebrow, pausing mid-step as he gives you a look of mock offense. “Noodles? Seriously?”

You grin and shrug, crossing your arms. “I don’t know, babe. They’re looking a little… deflated.” You stretch out an arm, giving his bicep a playful poke as he comes closer. “Am I supposed to start lifting the groceries now?”

Drew lets out a chuckle and drops his bag on the floor before plopping down on the couch next to you. “I’ll have you know that my ‘noodle arms’ still work just fine,” he says, feigning indignation as he flexes, the bicep muscle tightening under his sleeve even if it’s smaller than you’re used to. “Had to lose some weight for Queer, remember? Luca didn’t want me looking like some action hero on this.”

You put on a look of exaggerated sympathy, patting his shoulder. “Aww, poor noodle-armed Drew. Must be so hard, not being the Hulk for once.”

He scoffs, but you can see the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Oh, no way,” you tease, leaning in and poking his arm again. “If you lose even one more ounce of muscle, I’m buying out the protein aisle and bringing it to set.” You pretend to squeeze his arm, making a show of struggling as if it’s the weakest thing in the world. “Seriously, who’s gonna protect me now? Or open all the jars?”

Drew smirks, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Is that right?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his tone a playful challenge.

In one quick motion, he wraps an arm around your waist and effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, his fingers tightening around your hips as you let out a small squeal of surprise, laughing. “See? Noodles or not, I think I can still handle you just fine,” he says, a smug grin on his face as he holds you close.

You try to keep a straight face but can’t help the smile that’s tugging at your lips. “Hmm,” you say, tilting your head as if contemplating. “Maybe you’ve still got a little strength left in you. But I’m gonna keep a close watch. Just in case.”

Drew raises an eyebrow, feigning exasperation. “Oh, great. A personal bicep inspector. Exactly what I needed.”

You laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “Someone has to make sure you stay up to code, Starkey. You’re still my big, strong boyfriend, right? Don’t want anyone thinking I’m dating some scrawny little noodle boy.”

He lets out a laugh, his arm still firmly around you as his hand traces slow, comforting circles along your back. “Would it make you feel better if I promised to go back to the gym as soon as filming’s done? Maybe even lift double just to prove I’m still ‘your big, strong boyfriend’?”

“Maybe,” you say, narrowing your eyes with a smile. “But in the meantime, don’t be surprised if I start calling you ‘spaghetti arms.’”

Drew groans, dramatically rolling his eyes, but he’s laughing too, unable to keep a straight face. “Fine, fine, make fun of me all you want. Just remember who’s still carrying you around all day if he has to.” With that, he shifts his grip and effortlessly hoists you up, standing and cradling you against his chest as he walks toward the kitchen.

You burst out laughing, arms looping around his neck. “Oh, okay, maybe there’s still a little muscle left!” you say, gasping between giggles as he gently sets you down on the counter, his hands resting on either side of you.

“Exactly,” he says, leaning in close, his face just inches from yours, his voice softer now, teasing but affectionate. “No matter what, you’re still stuck with me.”

Your laughter fades as you look up at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Good,” you whisper, fingers gently brushing his cheek. “Because I wouldn’t want anyone else, noodle arms and all.”

Drew’s expression softens, his gaze lingering on yours as he cups your face, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. His hand trails down to your shoulder, pulling you closer until you’re wrapped up in his embrace, your laughter replaced by a comfortable, warm silence.

As he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he chuckles, fingers idly tracing your arm. “I’ll get my biceps back,” he promises, his voice barely a whisper. “But for now, I guess you’ll just have to deal with ‘scrawny’ me.”

You grin, sliding your hands up his chest. “I’ll manage,” you say softly. “But just know I’m keeping an eye on those biceps. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll even give you a few compliments along the way.”

Drew laughs, kissing you again, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, with no need for words. Because no matter how many muscles he has—or doesn’t—you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, with him.

[cuubism]

Dreamling Olympic Equestrian AU, the Sequel (less Olympics, more Equestrian)

-

Hob wished he could say he took a ‘reasonable’ approach to dating Dream after the Olympics. In actuality he basically just went home with Dream and never left. He helped him get Jessamy settled in, and then Dream wanted him to stay over, and then Hob made him breakfast the next morning, and then—

He did eventually have to go take care of his own horses, and generally get back to his real responsibilities, but it was done with reluctance. Damn him, but he’d immediately started missing Dream. Too attached, too quickly, that was always his way.

And then not a week later Dream had invited him to bring his horse and go on a hack, and, well. Maybe Hob wasn’t the only one being unreasonable about it.

Safe to say they had never really gotten rid of each other after that.

By the end of the year Hob did very much the opposite of getting rid of Dream. Which was to say, marrying him. He was now the proud owner of some very cliche wedding photos of them leaning over to kiss each other while on horseback. He wouldn’t change a thing.

Afterwards, they’d both sold their respective properties, pooled their resources—mostly Dream’s resources if Hob was being totally honest—and bought a place together.

Hob still remembers finding the farm on the market and taking Dream to see it for the first time. He’d been so excited for Dream to see it. Dream had such high standards and Hob had been sure they were going to have to compromise on something, but this property had everything Dream had ever expressed wanting in a farm and other things besides. Rolling fields and connections to nearby bridle paths. A massive indoor arena for riding in inclement weather. Three-sided shelters in all of the paddocks. Automatic waterers. Heated wash stalls. The damn floors were heated too, not that they used the stalls much, but Dream’s geriatric ponies would surely appreciate it come wintertime.

(Hob had been extremely charmed to learn, upon first visiting Dream's farm, that Dream still owned the incredibly fancy ponies Hob had correctly assumed he'd grown up riding as a child. They were now ancient and feral and tended to bite anyone other than Dream. It was delightful.)

Hob’s favorite part of the property was the house. It was set a bit off from the main barn, close enough to be an easy walk but out of the way of the traffic if one was to operate the place as a full-service livery. Dream had loved the cottage at Hob’s previous farm, and this house was much the same, quaint and cozy with its own pond and meandering garden path. It even had a screened-in patio for Dream’s persnickety cats to sunbathe.

It was all perfect. Dream had actually squealed when Hob brought him to see it. It was lucky Dream had money otherwise Hob would have probably done something illegal to afford the place just to see that look on his face every day.

Six months and an amount of money Hob didn’t want to think about later, they had their own farm and had started taking on clients. It should have been idyllic. In many ways it was. Jessamy and Hob’s retired event horse, Ellie, were getting along swimmingly in their big field. Dream’s feral old ponies were rampaging about the place. The amount of space was a bit dangerous, as Dream kept sending Hob photos of pretty horses for sale, saying we have the space for it, Hob. He didn’t seem to care that the prices of said horses were upwards of one hundred thousand pounds.

It was both a blessing and a curse to have married someone who came from money.

All the better to get clients in so the stable was actually making some money instead of just bleeding cash in exchange for more horses. And this was where the trouble began. Because Dream may have been disagreeable around people but he had a soft spot for troubled horses. And when troubled horses intersected with the clients that made them that way, well. That was how they got this.

“I was led to believe I’d be getting results,” Roderick Burgess was saying as Hob stepped into the arena, leaning against the wall to watch Dream ride. “Surely an Olympian should be able to do better.”

Hob grit his teeth, but didn’t say anything, yet. Dream could handle himself.

“If you don’t like my methods, you’re free to take your horse elsewhere,” Dream said. He was trotting the horse—its name was Ruby—in a big circle at the far end of the ring, riding on a long rein, just trying to get it to bend and loosen up its neck. It didn’t seem to be particularly easy for the horse, which was troubling considering a horse that had had ‘a few years’ of training—according to Roderick—should be able to at least do basic flatwork. And should be less stiff about it besides.

“We both know that won’t happen,” said Roderick. He was probably right—now that Dream was starting to get a sense of the horse’s poor prior training, he wouldn’t want to send it elsewhere—but Hob nevertheless wanted to walk over to Roderick and toss him out of the ring. Wasn’t the point of owning your own place that you could kick out clients you didn’t like?

“Perhaps if you’d been honest about his issues, we’d have better results,” Dream said, turning across the middle of the circle to change the bend. Ruby tossed his head, struggling with the change in direction, but Dream persisted in asking him to bend and eventually got him to drop his head again, now stepping up into a canter. “I was promised a horse at at least third level yet you’ve brought me one that struggles with basic self-carriage.”

Hob thought expecting any results yet was unreasonable considering it was only the first time Dream had even gotten on the horse. He’d only gotten it in last week, and just lunged it yesterday.

“You have to be more aggressive with him,” said Roderick dismissively. “Just make him do it.”

“Am I paying you, or are you paying me?”

And on it went like that, Dream working through his usual regimen, slowly building up the difficulty, Roderick nitpicking and criticizing all the while. Hob didn’t know what he really wanted. Maybe he just got a kick out of being an asshole.

Hob did love watching Dream ride, though. Watching him work with an inexperienced horse wasn’t nearly as seamless as it was when he rode Jessamy, but his patience and light touch were always a delight to behold.

Dream eventually took up his reins, gauging the horse’s ability to go around in a more collected frame. That ability was dubious at best, but Dream kept at it, working in circles of various sizes, transitioning up and down the gaits. He would get the horse where it needed to be eventually, Hob knew. If Roderick didn’t keep interrupting with unreasonable demands.

“Are you going to do any lateral work at all?” asked Roderick with annoyance, predictably interrupting again, and Hob could almost hear Dream’s jaw clench.

“Yes, I am getting to it. It’s a horse, not a racecar.” He turned the horse down the quarter line, lightly brushing the end of his whip, which Hob hadn’t seen him use yet, against its flank to ask it to step sideways and under.

And at the first touch of the whip Ruby exploded.

If Hob had looked down for even a second he would not have seen it move, it was so fast—the horse bolted sideways away from the whip, head thrown up, legs scrambling. Dream pulled back hard on the left rein, trying to stop through a turn, but Ruby just plowed right through it, tossing its head. Hob heard the bang as they—or more likely Dream’s knee—hit the arena wall, and then Dream yanked harder and managed to turn, spinning the horse into a circle until it was forced by the tight angle to slow to a nervy walk.

Hob had automatically lurched forward to try to help, but realized fast enough that rushing over would only make things worse. He watched, tense, as Dream finally brought Ruby to a halt. A lesser rider would have been thrown; Hob was glad Dream’s seat was better than that.

“Ah, yes,” said Roderick nonchalantly from where he was still sitting, ankle crossed over his knee. “He does not enjoy the whip.”

“Were you planning to inform me of that,” said Dream, out of breath, “before or after we went through a wall?”

“I would have thought you could handle it,” Roderick said.

Hob kind of wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he went over to Dream.

Ruby was standing stock still now, breathing hard, and let out a loud huff, nostrils flaring, as Hob stopped at Dream’s side. Dream scratched the horse’s neck.

“Are you alright?” Hob asked quietly.

Dream nodded, handing the whip to Hob, though his expression was pinched, and Hob worried for his knee. “Once more and then we’ll be done. I don’t want to end on that note.”

“You cannot let him get away with that,” said Roderick sternly, seeing Hob take Dream’s whip. “He must tolerate the whip.”

“And I’m sure persisting now will teach that effectively,” Dream bit back. “Do you want an explosive horse, Roderick? Because that is what you have handed me, and if you insist upon pushing the matter like this, you will only make it worse.”

“I hired you to fix it,” Roderick snapped.

“Then let me.”

Dream brought the horse back up to a trot, did a lap around the ring and then came down the quarter line again, this time asking him to leg yield over just by bending him around his leg. Ruby was tense now, jiggling the bit in his mouth and fighting Dream’s hand, but he did move over, and once they’d reached the wall Dream let him drop back down to a walk, letting his grip on the reins slide down to the buckle. Ruby snorted loudly, dropping his head to the floor as he walked anxiously on the long rein.

“You do not have to beat him to get what you want,” Dream said, turning to Roderick.

“You care too much about their feelings,” said Roderick dismissively.

“Not caring about their feelings has gotten you very far indeed,” Dream said back.

He halted the horse by Hob and hopped down, stumbling on the landing and leaning hard on his left leg. Shit. Hob knew he’d hit the wall. Goddammit, Dream.

Before Hob could take the horse from him, Roderick’s kid, Alex, crept into the arena and came over, eyeing his father as he did. Normally Hob considered Alex kind of a liability to have around the farm—he was convinced the kid was going to get himself kicked in the head at some point—but now he handed him the reins. It was Roderick’s horse, the two of them could deal with it right now.

“Make sure to walk him out,” Hob told Alex, and then, ignoring Roderick, who’d already focused on Alex, presumably to berate him for something, he wrapped an arm around Dream’s waist and led him out of the ring.

By the time they made it into the lounge, Dream was leaning heavily against Hob’s side, limping on his right leg. God, Hob hoped he hadn’t broken something. He could only imagine how long that sort of knee injury would take Dream out.

Hob sat him down on the couch. “Can I take a look at your knee?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Dream said, even as the corners of his lips were still pressed tight in pain.

“Dream, I heard you hit the wall from the other side of the arena.”

Dream sighed, but finally started unzipping his boots.

“Breeches, too,” Hob said.

Dream gave him a look but, having removed his boots, started stripping off his socks and black riding pants as well. He looked small like that, perched on the couch in just his black boxer briefs and short-sleeve polo. Hob winced at the sight of his knee. It had already turned horribly purple from his impact with the wall. Hob crouched by him to look closer, taking Dream’s ankle in his hands, turning his leg this way and that, carefully testing the motion. “How much does it hurt?”

“Tolerable,” Dream said, watching Hob intently. Hob mentally increased all of Dream’s descriptions by several degrees of pain. “I don’t think anything is broken, or sprained.”

Having looked closer, Hob didn’t think so either; he was pretty sure it was just bruised. A nasty bruise, though. “Should keep off it for a few days, though.”

Dream sighed, put upon, but didn’t contradict him.

“I’ll get you some ice.” He had ice wraps in the freezer, and pulled one out, laying it over Dream’s knee.

Dream’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “That is for horses.”

“Well, now it’s for humans, too.” He sat beside Dream on the couch as he iced his poor knee. “We should get it checked out if it’s not any better by tomorrow. Don’t want to risk permanent damage.”

Dream touched Hob’s shoulder with light fingers. Hob was, unfortunately, speaking from experience on this matter. Though in his case it had been less ‘deciding not to get it checked out’ and more ‘completely obliterating the joint to the point that it was kind of moot.’ Hob had shown Dream the video of that fall a while back. It was not a pleasant video.

He still had a mostly functional shoulder, though.

Fortunately, Hob didn’t usually have to worry about that happening with Dream. Having a horse flip on top of you was the kind of thing that was more likely to happen when you decided it was a good idea to gallop at solid objects. Which Hob had done. Frequently.

He was kind of glad he hadn’t married a fellow adrenaline junkie.

“I can’t believe Roderick put you on that horse knowing it was going to react like that,” Hob said. He really should kick the guy out. Prick.  

“Roderick created that reaction,” said Dream. “He hardly cares if it gets someone thrown, so long as that someone is not him.”

“I care!” Hob exclaimed. “It’s our fucking stable. He can’t just use you as a crash-test dummy.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “I am not easy to crash.”

“That’s not the point, Dream. I’ll kick him out, I swear to God.”

“I can handle Roderick Burgess. And the horse. You needn’t protect me.”

“Maybe I want to,” said Hob. He took the ice off Dream’s knee and took another look at it. The bruise only looked more hideous. “Maybe part of being your husband is that I get to protect you.”

Dream touched his cheek fondly, but said, “If we send him away, he will only take the horse to someone else, and nothing will improve.”

Hob knew it was true. He would have just bought the horse and given it to Dream just to get Roderick off the property, but he was pretty sure Roderick would just take the money and go buy another one so that wouldn’t really accomplish anything in the end.

Hob was always going to end up doing what made Dream happy anyway.

“Just…” he rubbed Dream’s thigh, careful of the bruise. “Be careful. God only knows what else he’s taught that horse to do.”

“We will find out, I suppose. Roderick will not be happy with me, though. I intend to take the horse back down to basics. He will doubtless be furious.” He did sound somewhat satisfied by the thought of it.

“Roderick can get on the damn thing himself if he’s so upset,” Hob said.

“That would be entertaining to watch, though less so for the horse,” Dream said. “Perhaps he will make Alex ride it.”

Hob rubbed his forehead in despair. “God help us all.”

“Indeed.”

“You should go back to the house and rest a while,” Hob told him.

“First I want to make sure they haven’t managed to kill Ruby,” Dream said. He levered himself to his feet, handing Hob back the ice wrap. “Besides, I am fine.”

The way he limped about while pulling on his breeches and paddock boots belied that, but Hob knew better than to argue further. At least he wasn’t getting back on the horse.

He went with Dream—only limping a little bit now—out to the barn, where Alex was getting Ruby settled in his stall. Alex looked distinctly nervous brushing the horse down, but hadn’t managed to get it—or, more surprisingly, himself—killed yet, which Hob counted as a win. Roderick was nowhere to be seen, which was probably for the best.

“Did you walk him out?” Dream asked.

Alex nodded anxiously. He seemed intimidated by Dream—which, to be fair, was a common experience for most people. Hob frequently had to remind himself that the version of Dream he saw every day—curled up in the kitchen alcove with his tea and a cat on his lap, chasing his ponies around the barn, resting his head in Hob’s lap for Hob to play with his hair—was not the version most people saw.

Ruby seemed little worse for wear for his ordeal. Dream pet the horse’s nose fondly, and it tried to nibble at his palm.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he said, to the horse, now ignoring Alex. “We’ll sort it out, won’t we?”

Ruby just tried to nibble on his fingers again.

With another pat to the horse’s nose, but no more words for Alex, Dream strode away again. Hob followed. Once they were out of the barn, he caught up to Dream and scooped him up in his arms, Dream clutching at his neck with a squeak.

“I’m carrying you home,” Hob said, starting off for the house. “You’re not walking.”

“I am not an invalid,” Dream protested.

“Oh, I should put you down, then?”

Dream clutched at him tighter. “You would not dare.”

“Thought so.”

And so he carried Dream down the short walk back to the house. After all, Hob thought, this was the whole point. He couldn’t necessarily prevent Dream from getting on insane horses or dealing with insane clients. But he could be there at the end of the day to carry him home.

[hanfourz]

― consume ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ | l.rw

pairing: fledgling!riwoo x human!reader (fem bodied)

genre: smut, fantasy

word count: 2.2k 0_0

warnings: blood!!, lots of kissing, biting, marking, cunilingus, use of riwoos real name (sanghyuk)

note: that pic is what inspired this whole thing btw... -🪼

walk with me... so riwoo fangs right..? what about fledgling!riwoo who just recently turned and his fangs are starting to fully grow (?).. so obviously they're kinda uncomfortable and cause him to need some sort of relief right?... do we see where i'm going with this?... oral fixation riwoo yes yes 🙂‍↕️

him needing to suck or bite something sooo bad it makes him wanna cry. and you’re always so willing to help him even though you're not a vampire yourself and don't fully know how it all works but you'd do anything for him. and at first he doesn't really tell you he's struggling with his new fangs but he winces when he's eating certain things and you see him constantly tonguing at his gums and kinda figure it out on your own. so ever the diligent partner, you start to do some research and figure out a couple remedies for his discomfort. a lot of the things you found sounded like things you would give to a teething baby and thought that idea wouldn't rly interest riwoo... but you saw something about biting and the cogs start turning.

so one day as you're chilling together you bring it up. you ask him how he'd feel about biting/feeding from you and at first he looks at you confused before saying something like 'shouldn't i be the one asking you that?' then he asks why you even thought of that. you tell him it might help with the fangs and he tries to brush it off and tells you he's fine and the discomfort should go away on its own. you don’t push it again that night but you hope he's at least thinking about it now because truth be told you couldn't really stop thinking about the idea of him feeding from you.

he does think about it. a lot. something he also didn't tell you was that your scent was so much stronger to him now and it was sooo enticing. he'd tried to ignore it, pushing away the urge to shove his nose in your neck and inhale when you walked past him. but it only got more and more intense as time passed which was the opposite of what he hoped would happen. it caused his fangs to nearly hurt with the need to sink them into your neck. but he withheld himself, absolutely refusing to tell you of this. he was pretty good at hiding it too, his behavior never really changing around you.

it was a day while you were cuddling that his last thin thread of control finally snapped. you had just gotten out the shower, hair washed and scent especially strong. you two were watching some show riwoo had put on. you were in a t-shirt and shorts while his head rested on your chest and your hands gently carded through his hair. he felt so peaceful like this, softly inhaling your scent and eyes starting to feel heavier. just when he was ready to doze off, he felt that uncomfortable tension in his gums again. he kept his eyes closed and tried to will the pain away but it was no use. it was only getting progressively worse, so much so that he had started to curl into you unknowingly. you’d already noticed when he tensed up but concern flooded you when you heard what sounded like a very quiet, pained whimper.

“baby? are you okay?” you’d asked softly, trying to look at his face that was now almost fully turned into your chest. he just whimpered softly again, not answering. “is it the fangs, love?” you heard a small sigh before riwoo nodded and lifted his head slightly. you tried not to gasp as you noticed his fangs now poking out from his top lip, much longer than they usually were. he leaned off of you and you followed, eyes holding bewilderment. 

“baby, that looks painful…” you whispered, still keeping your tone gentle. riwoo had leaned off of you to get away from your scent but you didn’t know that so you leaned towards him to get a better look but were utterly shocked when he flinched away. confusion flitted across your features, a strong furrow to your brows as you looked at him. “sanghyukie… what’s wrong?” your tone was slightly hurt as you asked and he felt bad but how could he explain it to you without sounding like a freak? 

“you.. your smell.. is a lot stronger now. it makes it difficult for me to think…” he answered eyes downcast and refusing to make contact. it all started to make sense to you now, his refusal of your original idea, his avoidance of the subject. he felt like he was losing control. 

“will it hurt you?” riwoo looks up at you, brows furrowed. 

“will what hurt me?” he asks, not understanding where this was going.

“feeding from me. would it hurt you?” you say, head tilted to the side in curiosity. riwoo stared at you for a minute. 

“no but… it might hurt you, love.” he says, concern lacing his tone. he could see the cogs turning in your head, running over his words and thinking about it. then he watches as whatever you’re thinking solidifies and he already knows what you’re about to say. you have that determined look in your eye that tells him you aren’t budging on this. 

“we don’t know for sure though, right? hyukie… if it might help, i wanna try. i don’t like seeing you suffering knowing i could help.” your brows are furrowed and your gaze is gentle as you watch him take your words in. he hesitates for a while, tongue running over his fangs out of sheer habit at this point. then he sighs and you think he’s giving in. 

“we can try… but if it hurts you we stop. and… i’m not sure i’ll be able to think clearly but if it’s too much, you have to stop me.” he concedes and watches a small smile settle across your lips. 

“okay, promise.” you say with barely contained excitement. 

riwoo can’t deny that he finds your eagerness cute, even if the entire idea makes him nervous. he doesn’t really understand why you’re so eager about it though… he assumes it’s just because you want to help him. which is partially true but he’s unaware of your own selfish desires. when you start moving closer to him, his brows raise in surprise. you wanted to try, now?! he steadies himself as your scent starts to grow nearly suffocating, gums already starting that odd tingling sensation. 

you take his hands in yours, pulling him a little closer while keeping that gentle smile on your face. he knows it’s supposed to help calm him but truly his heart feels like it might jump out his chest. everything about you was overwhelming him but he knows that he does want this. he wants to taste you, wants to be able to get that sweet smell straight from the source. the more he thinks about it, the more it starts to drive him insane. 

when your lips meet his, he doesn’t even register it at first. his mind goes into overdrive and it’s like a shock goes through his entire body. he moans into your mouth as he kisses you much more feverishly than either of you were expecting. he doesn’t know what comes over him as he starts to press further and further into your space. all he can think, smell, feel is you, you, you. when you whimper quietly, he moans again in response. it’s the most desperate and needy you think you’ve ever seen riwoo. you move so you’re on his lap, legs wrapped around his hips and arms around his shoulders. he starts to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck, fangs grazing over a spot on your neck that makes you shiver. he inhales sharply as he tastes your skin on his tongue. he drinks your scent in, his cock twitching in his pants.

when you whine and tilt your head back to give him more space, he starts to suck on the spot right under your ear. he wishes he could see your face but he thinks he might die if he pulls his nose away from your neck right now. he softly tongues over the mark he just sucked into your skin. you can feel his heavy breaths fan over your skin. your hands find purchase in his hair, not pulling it but just resting them there. you feel it as his fangs press into your skin, him testing the waters for now as he starts to leave little love bites down your shoulder. riwoo always liked biting you even before he was turned into a vampire, it was his favorite way of marking you. and you always expressed how much you liked it yourself. now was no different but you were even more turned on this time. you grind down onto him, his hips stuttering up into you. when he digs his teeth in a little harder, you keen into him. you feel like he’s edging you as he continues this pattern of softly biting before he presses his fangs in harder but not enough to pierce your skin. 

“sanghyuk… please, baby.” you whimper out, knowing you saying his name like that makes him weak. he sighs into your skin as his hands fully wrap around your waist. he runs his hands up your shirt and over your skin as he brings his lips back up to your neck. he inhales your scent again before he sinks his teeth into your skin. you fully moan at the feeling, a warmth like syrup spreading through your veins. riwoo loses himself as your taste fills his senses. he doesn’t even know he’s whimpering out and his hips are grinding into you. your hands scramble in his hair, tugging on it as you whine out again and again. you don’t know what you were expecting but it wasn’t this. you feel like you’ve taken three aphrodisiacs in one sitting. you’re completely consumed by the man attached to your neck, sucking your life force like it’s his own. like he needs the very air you breathe. like he might die if he doesn’t become one with your body. riwoo is faring much worse, almost cumming in his pants. and it only worsens when he feels you pulling on his hair and you grinding yourself down onto him. 

he pulls away, pupils blown wide with his lips and fangs stained red. his entire face is flushed and his eyes are still locked on the marks his fangs left in your skin, blood oozing from the still open wound. he leans back in and licks over the marks until the bleeding stops, moaning lewdly at the taste. you’re still swimming in ecstasy as he pulls away again. he looks up to see that you’re flushed and your eyes are barely open. he brings a hand up to your face and you lean into his touch, sighing softly as you make eye contact. a small smile plays on your lips and he feels his heart jump in his chest. 

“you’re perfect.” the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them. you can’t find your words quite yet so you lean forward and catch his lips in a heated kiss, not even caring about the taste of your own blood on his lips. when he softly sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, you push him down until he’s laying underneath you. the need to feel every inch of him consumes you as you move your hips over the bulge in his pants. he whines into your mouth and it only urges you on as you both start to undress. his hands roam over every inch of your body as you press kisses to his neck. you leave marks of your own down the expanse of his neck and shoulders. he stops you before you can move down his body any further, causing you to whine in protest but he shakes his head. 

“need to taste you, please love.” he says breathlessly. you stare at him a minute before you nod and move so that you’re sitting next to him. he gets up quickly and you switch your positions with you now underneath him. he trails his hands down your sides until they rest on your thighs, watching the way goosebumps raise in their wake. when he spreads your legs apart you understand what he meant by tasting you. your breath hitches as you watch him lower himself between your legs. he starts to kiss and bite at your thighs, leaving hickeys and bite marks, before he sinks his fangs in again. you gasp and arch off the bed, moaning his name loudly. he doesn’t stay there long, suckling at the bite and licking your blood off before moving and doing the same in your other thigh. when he’s satisfied, he moves to get a taste of the juices leaking from your pussy. licking a long stripe up from your entrance and then circling his tongue around your clit. you grip the sheets hard as you moan out and his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. 

you let him consume you whole on that bed again and again until you're both completely spent.

tags : @onedoornet ||

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Day 18: Temperature Play

A/n: I know it’s a little late but I can do whatever I want ☺️

Warnings: smut, temperature play (wax/ice play), bondage, oral (m receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kinktober

You wanted to try something new, Axl was into all kinds of things but he was the one in charge so when you suggested him be the one tied up he was hesitant.

"No way in hell would I let you do that." Hesitant may not been a strong enough word, but eventually you wore him down.

Now he was tied to the headboard while you sat over him in just his shirt, trailing an ice cube down his torso, starting at his chest and moving down to his stomach.

It was after one of his shows, he’d been wanting to bring you on tour with him for a while and you were finally able to go.

You’d been sleeping in his bus, obviously, staying nice and cuddled up to him every night and no one ever questioned the rocking or swaying of the vehicle.

Every night you’d see him up on stage from the side and watch in his, his stupid dances, his little running from side to side, helping him pick out outfits before he went onstage. The way his voice hit your ears was everything.

At the end of the night he’d help you get through the crowds back to the bus and you’d get under the covers with him, he’d always say he was tired and just needed sleep yet somehow sleep always meant making you scream.

You just wanted to see what would happen if the roles were reversed, see how much you could get away with.

He was shivering at the cold running down him, the ice cube melting and leaving water in its wake. You placed a few gentle kisses to his abdomen, his American flag boxers pulled down just enough for his hard cock to spring out, leaning on the side of your face.

You brought the ice to you mouth, moving it over your lips before pushing it past them and letting it rest on your tongue.

“No, no, sweetheart, you don’t- you don’t have to do that-!” His voice raised at the end in a gasp as he felt you take him into your mouth, the ice now pushed to his length as you bobbed your head on him.

The ice melted much faster given the heat of your mouth and Axl pulsing. He rolled his hips to meet you half way and you let him, your goal wasn’t to be mean and edge him so you happily swallowed his watered down cum as it spilled into your mouth.

You pulled off of him with a pop and wiped the drool that had dribbled down your chin out the corners of your mouth. On the night stand was a bowl of ice you’d grabbed earlier, however it wasn’t the only thing that caught your eye this time.

There was a candle, a matchbox right next to it. Axl must’ve seen where you were looking and followed it. “No! I am drawing a line, you smarten the fuck up, now!” You just chuckled and lit the candle, letting it burn for a minute.

“C’mon, it’s just wax, you’ll be fine.” You assured, though he still squirmed and shook his head in adamant protest. “Just this once.” You tilted the candle over him, a drop of wax falling onto his chest and sliding down until it hardened.

That did it. Axl finally snapped and ripped the bandana you’d used to tie him up.

He sat up and took the candle from you, maneuvering you onto your back while you giggled. Axl couldn’t help it, your laugh was contagious and he smiled down at you while he pulled the shirt you wore up. “You are a fucking bitch, you know that?” He asked, drizzling wax over your now bare chest, making you gasp.

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope (Yandere Sabo x Reader) Part 8

on Ao3 18+ MDNI

All the other chapters

This particular chapter is fluffy. I promise Sabo's coming back to the island soon. And that he's just as focused as he was before :)

Remember I don’t know anything about science! If you do, just pretend you don’t either!

Your POV

“Make a Logia fruit? Um, that’s kind of the opposite of what I’ve been working on,” you explained, wiggling your toes in your wet socks. Your butt, feet, and sleeves were wet from the sea water lapping gently at you as you sat on the beach. The temperature was dropping steadily and you felt the chill of the night starting to bother you as you splashed. “I’ve been trying to reverse engineer the fruits and find a way to nullify their powers. I was thinking that maybe, um, Sabo…or someone..could um..I’m not sure really. But I can’t - those fruits shouldn’t exist and it’s all my - all my f-fault…S-Sabo tried to tell um tell me -” Your heart started racing again, beating faster and faster as your thoughts returned to the collateral damage you’d caused.

You felt Ace’s hand on the back of your neck. He was probably trying to bring you comfort but right now it felt more like the weight of a guillotine. You shook him off, wanting to wallow in the feelings you deserved in spades. You hugged your knees and rested your head on top as you ran your hands along the parts of your pant legs that were still dry. You realized your hands were stinging from salt water that had entered the open wounds left from biting your fingers.

“I caused a lot of pain and suffering, too. I get it,” Ace said, stretching out his legs. You hummed, you couldn’t imagine any one person had unintentionally brought so much devastation to the world as you had.

“Did you watch Marineford? The Paramount Wars?” Ace asked while observing the sunset. 

You took a deep breath, held it in for a moment, then exhaled. “Um, no, Sabo already asked. I was supposed to watch it live but I was too busy and then I never got caught up. I had just started getting assignments from the higher ups at that time and -”

“That was me. I caused all those Marines to die, my friends to die. Brought my brother into my mess, almost killed him too. Even killed my own father.” Ace said with no emotion in his voice.

“You - you didn’t kill your father. Are you playing with me? I’m sorry, it’s hard for me to tell sometimes,” you said, wiping your running nose on your sleeve. You hoped he was joking but the stiffness of his shoulders belied his calm tone.

“No. I’m Portgas D. Ace, Gol D. Roger’s son. I was sentenced to execution but Luffy came to save me. Whitebeard and the crew too.” You tried to take in all the information Ace was telling you but it had your head swimming. 

“Is Luffy your other brother? The one in the picture with you and Sabo?” you asked an obvious question to avoid the awkwardness of his statement. Helping others with their emotions was never your strong suit.

“Yeah. Strawhat Luffy. Me n’ him n’ Sabo aren’t related by blood. Roger was my biological father but Whitebeard was my dad. Died trying to save me. Buncha my crew siblings died too. Good men.”

“Oh.” You wanted to support him like he’d supported you but you were afraid to say the wrong thing in case he started crying or got angry. “That explains a lot of your lineage factors,” you added quietly. “If your dad was Gol D. Roger, it makes sense you’d have Conqueror’s Haki.”

“Didn’t help me much,” Ace lamented. “Luffy even got me free and all I did was waste the opportunity by taking bait from Akainu. Fucker tried to kill Luffy and punched me through the chest. The only reason I was revived is Law brought me to his sub.”

You blinked rapidly. “Law? Trafalgar Law? Dr. Trafalgar D. Water Law?” Ace grunted.

“Yeah, Trafalgar Law. How come you know him but not me’r Luffy? I’m more famous than him,” Ace said in a half hearted joke. 

“Oh, I’m familiar with Dr. Trafalgar from his articles, not his piracy. He’s brilliant, his articles are always so intriguing. I pay for a subscription out of my own pocket to the journals that publish him, actually. His last article was about heart replacement complications, I wonder if that was from you,” you mused. You cringed as you realized that was not an appropriate statement to make, considering it was likely Ace’s heart he detailed in the article.  

“Probably. He said it was difficult, but I didn’t ask about the details,” Ace said unbothered.

“How did he save your life?” You were curious about the intricacies of Dr. Trafalgar’s devil fruit power and how he used it in conjunction with his medical knowledge and skills. You’d hoped to be invited to a Warlord meeting and catch a glimpse of him but it had never happened.

“I dunno, I was dead for that part,” Ace stated, flicking his long hair over his shoulder.

“Right,” you said, wishing you could bury your head in the sand much like your toes were. If Sabo were here he’d know what to say, you thought. Unlike your own awkward nature, Sabo was suave and charming and would know how to soothe his brother. 

“Are you still healing? Is that why you still have all those bandages?” you asked. Ace raised his eyebrows and looked down at his own chest.

“Oh, no. I’m healed, there’s just a huge scar I don’t like seeing and the yukata doesn’t cover it.” he explained.

“Why don’t you wear a shirt then?” Ace frowned like you’d asked him to eat sand off the beach.

“Nah, not my style. Besides, all the shirts here are Sabo’s and uh…they’re a little too frilly for me,” Ace said. Shirts weren’t his style? What on earth did that even mean? And why didn’t Sabo bring him any? Maybe Sabo was keeping Ace on the island too, not letting him leave. You decided to gently press for information while Ace was in a sharing mood.

“So how long has Sabo kept you on the island?” you asked, hoping Ace would reveal some negative feelings towards Sabo. If Ace wanted off the island, maybe the two of you could work together and figure something out.

“Hm? He doesn’t keep me here. Actually, he’s been trying to get me to leave for a while. Wants me to “reintegrate back into society.” Ace said, using air quotes and mimicking Sabo’s voice, your hopes of escaping dashed. Still, you stifled a laugh at Ace’s impression, trying to keep your composure for the serious conversation. Ace gave you a small smile. “It’s OK, you can’t say anything to me I haven’t said to myself already.” The sun had set, leaving the two of you in the chill of the dusk. “C’mon, it’s cold and I’m sure the water’s making you feel shitty. Let’s go back to the house, get changed. If you get sick, Sabo’s gonna yell at me even more than he’s already gonna.” 

Ace stood up and offered you a hand, pulling you to your feet as well. The two of you walked in companionable silence for a minute before he spoke again.

‘But just hypothetically speaking, could you make a Logia fruit? From a scientific standpoint?” Ace asked curiously.

Ace’s POV

Ace knew you fell for his bait when you slowed your stroll and began chewing your lip. He could practically see the cogs turning in your head as you thought through the possibilities, your wet socks squelching on the path to the house.

“Well….the other fruits were made in advanced scientific labs. I don’t have the equipment needed to engineer something like that…” you trailed off.

“No, no. Not to actually make it here. But could you make an artificial Logia fruit?” 

“I could use the- well, it depends which one,” you said, starting to gesticulate. “The fruit I’d have the most success in creating would be the Mera Mera that you and Sabo ate. You still have the lineage factor which provides a large part of the genetic material needed to make an artificial fruit. Oh, and a strand or two of Sabo’s hair, that’s definitely here. Oh, and maybe part of my own lineage factor? Even though mine is paramecia it might help with some of the active components… And I could probably use any fruit, but for a Logia I would probably want something with a similar quality, maybe some kind of spicy - no that wouldn’t really make a difference, I think Vegapunk used apples? But there aren’t any here so maybe from a common fr- no, no…” you were off in thought, talking to yourself about how the fruit could be made. Reaching the deck of the house, you stopped before you went up the stairs. You stared off in the distance in silence, giving Ace pause.

“Hey, are you alright in there? Didn’t mean to start anything, I was -”

“The flame flower,” you stated. 

“Right.” Ace nodded knowingly, but had no idea what you were referring to.

“I could use the flame flower as the base and the genetic material provided by your and Sabo’s lineage factor. That’s how I could make it work,” you said, nodding slowly. Ace’s mouth dropped open as he watched you staring off into the darkness, Sabo hadn’t exaggerated. Your genius was on par with Vegapunk and other top scientists of the world. You looked at Ace and tilted your head. “But again, I can’t actually do anything without a lab. And a lot of money. So, hypothetically probably. In reality, no.” You nodded to yourself and entered the house, going up the stairs to change your clothes. Ace trailed behind you, pulling on your sleeve to get your attention.

“But can’t you like….” Ace trailed off, using his fingers to pantomime pulling marionette strings.

“What? I don’t follow,” you replied, looking worn out. He should really leave you alone and let you sleep but Ace couldn’t drop the idea, not after you said it was possible.

“I’m not - I don't know how to say it, but like, can’t you like change stuff? Like move the molecules around or cells or whatever?” You blinked rapidly while frowning. 

“Say more,” you commanded, your brow furrowed. You looked like how he’d found you in Sabo’s office, completely focused on one thought. The intensity of your stare almost rivaled Luffy’s when he was serious. 

“Like, um, y’know, like change stuff when you magnify it. Like move the stuff around to make other things? Aren’t molecules the building blocks of life? So move the blocks around?” Ace finished with something Sabo had taught him, trying to get his idea across to you. He wasn’t a scientist but he knew devil fruits could be awakened, he’d tried to do it on his own but ran out of time before his death. Maybe this could be the key to your own fruit awakening and to him getting his powers back.

You stopped walking and stared past him, blinking rapidly. Ace waved his hand in front of your face after a moment. You were on the stairs, he didn’t want you to fall and get hurt when you finally surfaced again. You moved your head away from his hand but didn’t resume walking. Sighing, Ace picked you up, disrupting your thought process.

“H-hey! Put me down! I’m not a child,” you protested while making no movement to get out of his arms. 

“Go do your big thinking after you change your clothes. Like you said, none of this is possible here and if you get hypothermia Sabo’s gonna kill me for real this time,” Ace joked. Depositing you in Sabo’s room, you smiled at Ace.

“Thanks Ace. Good night,” you said, holding the door to shut it.

“Good night, kid,” Ace replied, smiling. He turned and walked away to his own room, getting inside before he heard you yell. 

“I’m not a kid! I think I’m older than you!” Ace chuckled lightly, reaching to unwind his bandages. 

Your POV

You were exhausted from the panic attack and the subsequent heart to heart with Ace. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said to you. You were turning the thoughts over and over in your mind, thinking about artificial devil fruits and the implications of changing the molecular structure during magnification. Like you’d told Sabo, you could get to the sub-atomic level but it took a lot of concentration and effort. You closed your eyes to rest but you were fixated on Ace’s idea. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours until your stomach rumbled. Oh yeah, you remembered, you hadn’t eaten since earlier that day. It was going to be a long night for you anyway so you might as well eat some food while you thought through the creation of artificial Logia devil fruits.

Heading down to the darkened kitchen, you took out a bowl and some rice. You’d made jambalaya a few days prior so now you’d give your stir-fried rice a shot. There still wasn’t any fish in the house but it would taste ok without it. You were able to make the dish on autopilot, washing the rice and vegetables while thinking about molecular changes. As you thought, you noticed the droplets of water that had landed near the colander. 

You could probably… try what Ace suggested. Changing h2o to h2o2 wouldn’t cause a huge reaction or anything, it would just be hydrogen peroxide. And only one molecule… If you changed the wrong elements or made too many molecules unstable, you could cause a huge chain reaction but that would take so many molecules and this was just one…this was just water…After starting the rice and starting the vegetables sauteing, you magnified a water droplet on the table. Getting down to the molecular level took a few moments but shortly there were two h2o molecules in front of your eyes. Careful not to erase the image, you used your thumb and forefinger to try and pluck one of the oxygens from a molecule and put it into the other. Picking it up felt like static electricity and your heart was racing as you tried to move the oxygen from its current molecule. It almost felt sticky, like it didn’t want to move, but it didn’t take much effort to disrupt its bonds.

You held your breath as you placed it within the bonds of the other molecule. If it didn’t work, at least you tried. You let go.

It worked. 

You were now looking at a molecule of hydrogen peroxide and an hydroperoxyl radical left over. “Holy fuck,” you said softly, looking at the newly formed molecule. You rotated it under your magnification and it looked identical to every other hydrogen peroxide molecule you’d ever seen. The implications were….

“Boo,” a voice said from behind you.

You shrieked like a banshee, jumping in fright. Ace laughed loudly and you swatted him with the spatula you were holding while cursing at him.

“Ace!! What the fuck?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why would you do that?!”

“Hey! Ow. Stop hitting me! Ow, that hurts! It was just a joke!” You huffed but you weren’t really mad as Ace dodged your well aimed spatula strikes.

“Why are you awake?” you asked, looking at the clock. It was the middle of the night, surely he had been sleeping like you should have been.

“Smelled good food cooking and I’m hungry,” he shrugged. You noticed he was wearing his yukata but no bandages underneath. The scarred skin on his chest was a deep red and in a circular pattern, blazing out from where his heart was. It was large and raised and had likely taken months to heal. You knew you were staring but the scar was so large and harrowing, you couldn’t stop looking at it.

“Stop undressing me with your eyes. You’re not my type,” Ace teased, sitting at the bar to wait for the food to be done. 

“Oh? And who is?” you asked, genuinely curious. You weren’t offended. Besides Sabo, you’d never been anyone’s type. And even Sabo was just pretending.

“Men,” Ace said offhandedly. Ah. Well, that made things between you a little easier since you didn’t have to worry about any sexual tension between the two of you. 

“Nice,” you replied, stirring the dish on the stove.

“Whatcha cookin’?” Ace asked, standing on the rungs of the bar stool to look over the counter and into the frying pan.

“Stir-fried rice. It’s one of the three dishes I can make, you’ve had the other two. Usually I put seafood in there too but we don’t have any,” you said, giving Ace a pointed look. 

“Well, there is a boat on the island,” Ace began, scratching his cheek. Your interest was immediately piqued - maybe you could use it to escape at some point. “But it’s my old one, Striker. It’s powered by fire and since I don’t have my devil fruit anymore, I can’t use it. There’s a sail but that’s not to propel it, just to direct it.”

You sighed, another plan to escape the island foiled. You thought in silence for a few moments, adding in the rice to the dish.

“What were ya lookin’ at?” Ace asked, watching you cook. You bit your lip, unsure if you should tell Ace about your experiment. You couldn’t think of a reason that the information could be used against you, and it was his idea anyway.

“Um. Well, it’s um. Not that big of a deal and I didn’t think it would work but um. I did kind of do what you said and, ah, changed the structure of a molecule - only one! Just one, it’s fine, don’t worry. And um it. It did work. I changed it by hand, so to speak. So I - that’s what I was looking at.” Ace waited patiently while you stumbled over your words.

“That’s amazing! So what does that mean? Does that mean you can make the devil fruit? The Mera Mera?” He exclaimed, his face breaking into a huge smile and eyes alight. 

“Um, yes, I suppose hypothetically speaking, I could potentially make a Mera Mera artificial fruit. It would be a huge undertaking but again, hypothetically, I could do it. Um, there’s enough genetic and lineage factor material here and I probably could if I worked on it enough but I don’t think -”

“This is wonderful! Oh my god I can’t wait, I’m gonna blow up Sabo when he comes back,” Ace exclaimed. He was off the chair and on his feet, pacing in front of the kitchen. “He’ll be fine, it can’t hurt him. Ooh, maybe we can finally fight each other! That little fucker has been using my moves, I know it. Gonna teach him who’s the real boss, ha! And I can finally make my way back to Wano! Maybe see Luff? I know his bounty is way higher -”

“Ace -”

“But before all that I need to find Marco and the crew. And Deuce, oh my god, Deuce. I miss that man so much, gonna kiss him first thing, did you know he was my first mate? I wonder -”

“Ace!”

“He might be doing better off without me, he wasn’t really a pirate, more of an intellectual type. You’d like him a lot. But I also need to go thank Traflagar and hug Bepo, there’s so much to do -”

“ACE!” 

Ace finally stopped pacing and chattering and looked at you. “Ace, I said I might be able to do it. I just made one molecule , do you know how much work it would take to engineer something like that?” Ace shrugged and waved off your concern, continuing to pace behind the counter.

“So what? You’re a genius, you’ll figure it out. Besides, it’s not like you have anything else to work on right now,” he said, unbothered by your hesitation.

“No,” you stated, crossing your arms. Ace turned on his heel to face you immediately.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” he asked worriedly, racing to the counter. 

“No. I’ve been working on ways to undo the damage my research has caused, not increase the damage. It’s unethical to bring yet another artificial devil fruit into the world, no matter who it goes to.” 

Ace held you in his gaze for a moment, staring into your eyes. Even though he wasn’t related by blood to Sabo some of their mannerisms were eerily similar. He plopped back down on the bar stool with a sigh and ran his hand through his tangled black hair. “You can’t undo what you’ve done. Trust me, I’m the first one to wish things were different, that I could change what I did. But it’s not possible. Doflamingo already made the money, Kaido got the soldiers, Vegapunk made the Seralinas or whatever. You can’t undo it. What were you going to do? Make a new fruit for them to eat? It won’t work, what’s done is done.” Ace got up and walked to where you were turning off the heat on the stove and put his hands on your shoulders. You looked up into his freckled face.

“The only thing to do now is to help the good side win, help people like me ‘n Sabo. Y’know, fight fire with fire,” he said seriously. 

“I don’t know, Ace….I don’t know if that’s something I want to do,” you hesitated. Ace hummed. 

“It could be a one time thing, make the Mera Mera and be done with it,” Ace pleaded, shaking your shoulders lightly. 

“Ace, even if this works, you’ll still be you. You’ll be the same person, with or without the fruit. It’s not going to solve all your problems. You need to work on your emotional healing, not just your body. You can’t even show your chest most of the time,” you said quietly. Ace didn’t respond, looking away to avoid your eyes.

Ace took his hands off your shoulders and went over to the cabinet, pulling out two bowls. His face was impassive but his departed enthusiasm spoke volumes. You plated the food and set the bowls side by side on the counter, Ace bringing you a fork. You ate in silence for a few minutes, Ace mostly pushing the food around his plate. You thought about what he’d said about Striker and getting off the island. If Sabo found out you could manipulate matter, you didn’t think he’d ever let you go. Your only window of escaping closed once Sabo came back to the island. Steeling yourself against your better judgment, you faced Ace.

“I’ll do it. On one condition,” you said, looking at him. Ace’s cheeks were puffed out wide with food.

“Hwaf cuhdihun?” Ace asked, not bothering to chew or swallow.

“You have to take me off the island. Away from here,” you stated. You knew Sabo and Ace were brothers but maybe the desired reward would offset his loyalty to Sabo.

“Hmm,” Ace mumbled as he chewed. You watched him closely to see his reaction, this would make or break your escape from Sabo.

“Sure, why not?” Ace said, quirking his eyebrow with a small smile. 

“You’re sure? You know I mean you need to take me away from Sabo, right?”

“Yeah, I got it. I can get you off the island if the fruit works. It won’t help you,” Ace said, scooping the last of his food into his mouth. His careless attitude made you worry that you’d fallen into a trap you set yourself.

“What do you mean, it won’t help me?” you asked, frowning.

“Sabo’ll just chase you. And he’ll find you, no matter where I take you,” Ace shrugged, literally licking his bowl clean.  

You chewed on the skin next to your nail for a moment. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m not -”

“I’m sure. He’d follow you to the South Pole if he had to. So I’ll take you out, but you won’t get far. He really likes you.” Ace replied, patting his belly.

“He doesn’t, it’s all an act. He’s just using me for - well, for this. To have me finish Project Seraphim for the Revolutionary Army. I heard him tell Dragon,” you protested. Ace stared at you, eyes softening with an unknown emotion.

“Whatever you say,” Ace said lightly, getting up and plugging the sink to begin washing the dishes. You tasted blood as you bit too hard on your already chewed thumb.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo wasn’t sure exactly what set off his internal warning signal. He and Ace had been calling back and forth every few days over the weeks, exchanging information and pleasantries. Ace had been in an elated mood, which he chalked up to becoming better friends with Sunny. Sabo noted Ace hadn’t been wearing the bandages around his chest anymore which was an interesting development. According to Ace, you worked in the morning and took a short walk with Ace before lunch. After eating, you’d work again until the evening when you and Ace would eat dinner and go stargazing or hang out in the house. You’d spoken on the snail a few times, you sounded happy and refreshed. But Ace was up to something and had dragged Sunny into it, Sabo was sure of it. The end of his trip was approaching and Sabo was eager to sail back home and see Sunny. And Ace, of course.

Narrowing his eyes, Sabo wanted to catch Ace in whatever dumbass idea he’d concocted. Sabo was between meetings and ducked into an empty storage room to call. It was nearly lunch, not his normal time to connect with Ace. With luck, Sabo would be able to detect what was going on.

Puru puru puru puru puru puru

“Hey Babo, what’s up?” Ace said, using a childhood nickname Luffy had given him.

“My ‘Ace is doing something stupid’ alarm is going off. Are you doing something stupid?” Sabo asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Almost always. But right now I’m making lunch. Potato salad,” the Ace snail said.

“And where’s Sunny? What’s she up to?” Sunny was an incredibly poor liar, even worse than Ace. With only a little pressure, Sabo would get the truth out of her.

“She’s working in your office, wanna say hi?” Ace asked, the snail throwing a kitchen towel over its shoulder.

“Inna minute. How are you guys doing? How’s she feeling?” Sabo asked, trying to keep from projecting his worries into his voice.

“Good, good. She’s working right now, like always. Sleeping enough, I make sure of it. Eats food, drinks coffee and water ,” Ace said proudly. 

“Alright, put her on.”

“Gimme a sec,” Ace said, the sounds of boots on the wood floor coming through the receiver. Ace pounded on the door three times.

“Yo, Sunny! Wanna -”

“Fuck off Portgas, I’m busy!” you yelled through the door. Sabo’s gut twisted with the ease and familiarity in your voice you used for his brother. He’d been feeling jealous for a few days now even though the jealousy made him feel guilty. He had brought you to the island partially for just this reason - to befriend his brother. And now that the two of you were friendly he was seeing green. Sabo wished you were just as comfortable with him , telling him to fuck off or spending all your meals together voluntarily. Sabo tried to rein his feelings in but it was difficult when he saw that you’d given Ace a haircut, or you were wearing Ace’s old clothes, or saw how well rested you were looking. During the calls between the three of you, it was difficult to contain himself from making snarky comments. Sabo was homesick for you and Ace, his meetings felt endless and the two of you were up to something. He could feel it in his bones.

“Nah, it’s Sabo, c’mon.” Ace urged you. Sabo heard a huff and the door open.

“Fine, but you know the penalty for disturbing me when I’m working,” you said cheerfully as the snail changed its visage to your bright smile. Sabo had never made that smile appear before, he thought.

“Ow! Owww ! That hurts! Stop pinching!” Ace whined in the background as you laughed.

“No, you get five pinches for disrupting my flow. I was moving the mol- er -” you looked at Sabo, afraid you’d almost said something.

“Moving what?” Sabo asked brightly.

“Uh, nothing! Nothing, um just moving the, um, mol- um…mole. The mole,” you finished lamely. Sabo quirked an eyebrow. 

“The mole?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, um the mole. It’s um, gotten into the office and um Ace and I have been trying to catch it and I um, oh lunch is ready! I have to go!” you stammered. The snail turned back to Ace, who was laughing into his palm.

“I know you’re up to something dumb and I’m gonna find out what it is. If Sunny gets in trouble because of you…” Sabo trailed off menacingly.

“Ok, love you, see you sooooon!” Ace chirped happily and hung up the snail.

The call ending quickly gave greater credence to Sabo’s theory that some Ace-derived foolishness was afoot. He sighed and leaned back against the nearest crate. He was leaving for the island in a few short days and it couldn’t come quickly enough. 

Your POV

You and Portgas D. Ace stared at the flower-turned-fruit held in the palm of your hand as you sat side by side on the beach. You’d experimented and developed it for the past few weeks almost constantly. You’d worked harder than you ever had in your life, racing to complete the project before Sabo returned in the next few days. True to his word, Ace had locked you out of Sabo’s office at 8 every night but that alone didn’t turn off your brain. For the first few weeks after your discovery, you stayed up late in the night in the darkness of your room, rearranging molecules and perfecting your craft. Ace had figured out you weren’t resting enough and started sleeping on the floor of Sabo’s room to get you to go to sleep. Eventually, you’d invited him into the bed because you were tired of seeing him toss and turn on the hard floor. You enjoyed having a warm body next to you but it wasn’t the same as Sabo’s heat and pleasant aroma.

You weren’t sure if you missed Sabo or not. Ace was fun, dynamic, engaging, and easy to talk to. He made you laugh, either intentionally or from his antics, and he had interesting insight to share. Ace was an endless talker, providing you with background noise to listen to while you walked together. He told you stories about Whitebeard, the Spade pirates, his brothers, anything he could think of. Ace enjoyed your company and would watch you work in Sabo’s office, sometimes falling asleep and snoring to your amusement. You thought you and Ace were friends and you’d miss him when you left the island.

But a little part of you missed Sabo, too. He treated you like you were worth the world, not just what you could make or produce for him. Ace claimed repeatedly that Sabo was romantically interested in you, which always made you flush. You found Sabo attractive and charming, unlike Ace who felt more like a sibling. He was smart and intelligent and enjoyed the same intellectual pursuits that you did. He had kidnapped you but through his actions you’d realized how drained you were from the Marines, subsisting on coffee and loneliness. You had been miserable, sick, and stuck, even if you didn’t see it yourself at the time.

“Hey, your hand’s shaking,” Ace noted, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“Haven’t seen that in a while,” Ace mused. You didn’t answer, too nervous about the outcome of your experiment. There was no way to test anything and make sure you’d gotten everything right. You used parts of your other research, Sabo’s hair, Ace’s saliva, and sheer willpower to craft the hideous looking fruit in front of you. It didn’t look like the Mera Mera no Mi, it looked like a sad black sea urchin covered in molten red spots. Your lips were bloody and Ace had bandaged all your fingertips after you bit them too much.

“This is a bad idea,” you said.

“Yeah,” Ace replied.

“It might not work. You might not get any power and you won’t be able to swim.”

“Yeah.”

“It might kill you.”

“Maybe.”

“Sabo will be mad.”

“Furious.”

“You gonna try it?” 

“Yeah,” Ace said, taking the fruit from your sweaty palm. You had the urge to reach out to take the fruit and fling it into the sea, to let life stay the way it was. But Ace’s brow was furrowed and his jaw set, you knew he wasn’t going to hesitate. You held your breath and covered your eyes with your hands as Ace bit into the fruit, scowling as he chewed.

“You got the taste right. Not something you forget,” he joked, trying to lighten your mood. You took a little peek and he hadn’t exploded or projectile vomited. That was a good sign.

“Did it - did it work?” you whispered. Ace ate the fruit in a few bites, one of the advantages to his eating habits, you supposed. He wiped his hands on his yukata and stood up.

“One way to find out,” he grinned, pointing his index and ring finger like the barrel of a gun.

Fire bullets shot out of his hand rapidly, making you scuttle backwards on the beach. He whooped loudly and beat his chest with his fists, screaming at the top of his lungs. Turning and running full force at you, you squealed as he picked you up under your arms and spun you around in circles. His arms were too warm, almost burning you as he laughed wildly and spun.

“Ace! Ace! Too hot!” you yelled into his ear, trying to get him to put you down.

“Ah! Sorry, kinda forgot about that,” Ace said, grinning from ear to ear. He set you down only to give you a huge kiss on your cheek. You couldn’t help but share in his happiness and laughed along with him. He looked so much younger, his face radiating pure joy as he raised his arm to continue testing his strength.

“Hiken!” he yelled, his arm outstretched. A column of flame burst forth from his fist, the raw destructive power it posed sending a shiver down your spine. He turned and winked at you, finger still made of flame. 

“And that’s why they call me Fire Fist Ace.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff

[lokideservesahug]

Undescribed Avoidance

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Jenson Button x reader, Mark Webber x reader (implied)

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Thank you so much for the support on this, I'm so glad you like it! Still not the big one but I think that'll come fairly soon... I really quite like the ending of this and please let me know what you think!

Summary: You just can't seem to get Mark's attention in the way you want... But poor Jenson is trying his hardest to just have a conversation with you.

Part 1

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

You're quite surprised with how different your rookie season is to your second season. Despite there still being low murmurs of doubt, you certainly proved to most that you are worthy of being here.

You walk into the paddock, head held high, ready for media day. You chose to coordinate your outfit with the car, half wanting to feel a connection to the team and half wanting to show everyone just how focused you are on the end goal this year; winning that world championship. Many would say that wearing white shoes and a white shirt is a recipe for disaster but you (and later the media agree with you) think that it not only creates a good tone for this year but also makes you look damn good.

You've ignored Jenson since the start of the season. Not deliberately per se but more so in an attempt to focus. You've fallen back into a routine not dissimilar to the one you had last year and Jenson wasn't in that routine last season, simple as. One person who was however was Mark. He was always there to congratulate you, looking out for you etc yet you cant help but notice that he seems a bit... distant? You shake your head. It's probably because of how busy the start of the season is. Ross manages his team very differently to how Frank did and goodness knows all eyes are on you. On all of you; Michael, Ross, the team and especially yourself. There have been a good number of articles stating how confident they are that you'll win the world championship this year... Not that you've looked (especially if your PR officer asks, she does not want you to read any articles about the team, something about being detrimental for your mental health or something like that...) You usualy space out during PR meetings so it should be no surprise that you don't remember every word said...

You break out from your thoughts as you hear a familiar laugh. Your head whips around and you see Mark stood outside of the red bull hospitality, talking to another red bull worker. You contemplate whether to approach him but all doubtful thoughts are pushed down as you approach him with a grin. "Hi Mark." He smiles back at you as your eyes meet and it feels as if you hadn't had any worries about growing distant. He appears to be the same old Mark that looked out for you at every turn last year. "Heya Y/L/N, how are you today?" You smile and continue to make small talk. And so what if you're a tiny bit late to hospitality, Mark is finally talking to you again so nothing else matters.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

The first race comes and goes in a flash of champagne, confetti and celebrations that follows into the second race as well. And now, you've currently started a winning streak by winning at Australia for the second year in a row.

A slightly overeager fan even approached you when you were walking with Michael and said in an excited voice "Gosh if you win next year, we might have to call you the Queen of Australia." You all just laughed at the awful pun, both signed their cap and continued walking. Which brings you to now, and once again, you can't seem to find Mark.

You laugh at the thought. If you weren't weren't busy you'd almost thing he was avoiding you... Yet before you can continue that thought, a flash of motion catches your attention. You look to your right with an unimpressed grin. "What if I was cooking up some amazing strategy and you just distracted me?" Michael throws his head back in laughter and pats you on the back. "Good one. Ross said he wanted a team meeting in a few minutes." You roll your eyes and stand up, your knees cracking beneath you. "He always wants a meeting. You'd think it's the only reason he does this." Michael just tilts his head and you give him a funny look. "Well he hasn't changed much since his Ferrari days." You exhale slightly as the two of you continue to walk in step. "Gosh, you've been dealing with this for years?" The German just gives you a small nod and you grin at his misfortune.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Honestly, you blink for a moment and then suddenly Mark is racing away. It's the third race in the season and you can now confidently say, Mark Webber is in fact ignoring you. You place down the empty bottle down on the top step of the podium where you were standing moments ago and turn to race after a charging Mark. "Y/N?" You whip your head to meet Jenson's eyes as you finally reach the edge of the podium. "Sorry I've just got to chase something. Is it alright if I catch you later?" You leave Jenson no time to awnser as you're already walking off, desperate to find Mark, unknowingly also leaving a deflated looking Jenson behind you.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You fall back on the sofa with a groan. When Michael invited you to have dinner with his family, you assume that he expected to moan about your problems. Well regardless, you're doing it. Your teammate just chuckles and sits at the armchair as his children scatter through the door. You move your legs slightly and Gina sits at your side and Mick at his father's and your feat on a precariously placed cushion on the floor.

Gina holds out her hairbrush and bobble and you take it in a wordless gesture, the routine coming naturally to you at this point. You continue to talk to Michael as you begin to brush Gina's hair. "I just don't get what I've done wrong. I've been friendly, kept in touch over the break, all of the normal things until he still ignores me. I thought that he was better than being bitter over someone else winning." Michael laughs as you begin to separate Gina's hair into three sections. "It's not that." You look up at him, briefly pausing from plaiting his daughter's hair. You groan "I hate when you get all cryptic." Michael just grins as you feel Gina's head shake slightly in a giggle, clearly used to her father's antics. "You'll understand eventually." You tie the end of the plait as you roll your eyes and see Corrina enter the room in your peripherals. She places a tender hand on her husband's shoulder and gives you a knowing look, clearly agreeing with Michael.

Gosh, you wish you could be so in love and in sync with someone like they are, one day.

Gina mutters a small thanks and she leans her head on your shoulder. "Well don't get too comfy because otherwise dessert will get cold." At Corinna's words, Mick bolts up and starts running towards with a happy exclamation. You all breathe out laughs and follow after him, but at a much more sensible pace.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Silverstone. The heart of British Motorsport and one of the most iconic circuits in history. You take a deep breath, taking in the smells and sights of Thursday. A track untouched this weekend with a clear scent onto to be tarnished with burnt rubber and oil by the end of the weekend.

You meet the eyes of a young girl.

Her eyes dart around as if scared and you watch as the familiar back of Mark bends down to speak to her. You walk towards them to see if you can help the situation in any way (and you feel very thankful that you might finally be able to interact with Mark for the first time in what feels like forever). The girl backs up slightly but as you get closer, she looks up at you and meets your eyes. The girl looks to be about six and you wave at her now awestruck figure. Her mouth splits into a toothy grin and you slowly walk towards her. "Hi, I'm Y/N what's your name?" The girl giggles "I know you. I'm Charlotte." You give the small girl a smile. "That's a lovely name Charlotte. Is this your first time at Silverstone?" She nods her head and then furrows her brows as if suddenly coming to a realisation. "Yeah... my daddy wanted to take me." You smile at the girl. "Oh yeah. Is your daddy around here somewhere?" You lift your eyes and scan the surroundings. No sign of a spectator or even a frantic parent looking for a missing child.

Charlotte shakes her head and shrinks in on herself. You stand up and hold your hand out for the younger girl. "Well, shall we try and find him?" Charlotte just nods timidly and the two of you begin to look around for her father. "Can you tell me what your daddy looks like?"

You turn to Mark to ask of he'd seen the girl's father only for Charlotte to hide her face in your side and mutter something into your shirt. You gently lean away from the girl slightly and ask he to repeat myself. "My daddy said to not speak to strangers." She casts Mark a wary, almost scared look. You think for a moment and can't help but blurt out "But I'm a stranger?" Charlotte's eyes meet yours again and she shakes her head. "No you're not. You're Y/N from the racing at the weekend. I know you!" You give a soft smile at Charlotte, who is very quickly melting your heart. "Oh that's lovely. Charlotte but you can't always trust everyone you see even if they're on the telly." Charlotte pouts "But I want to be like you when I'm older. And my daddy has posters of you and that man in red in his office."

You're confused for a moment as to what she means by the 'man in red' until you draw the conclusion that she must be talking about Michael. So Charlotte's father must be a Mercedes fan then... At least that somewhat narrows it down you think?

You look around and hold your hand out again for Charlotte to take. "Well Miss Charlotte, what better way to find your father than give you a V.I.P tour of the paddock?" Charlotte's jaw drops in shock and you give a small nod to Mark who stands up and walks with the pair of you, keeping his distance to scan the surroundings for Charlotte's father. He just gives a small smile back and you feel your heart flutter at the small exchange. Charlotte clears her throat slightly and speaks in a quiet voice. "Who's that?" You tilt your head and point to Mark. "Who, him?" Charlotte nods and you can't stop yourself from smiling at the thought of the man. "That's Mark Webber, he drives for Red Bull."

Charlotte's lips form a tiny 'o' in realisation and she let's out a small exhale. She glances at Mark again and turns to you in a loud whisper (that probably seems quiet to a six year old). "Is he your boyfriend?" You feel your cheeks warm at the question and both you and Mark freeze for a moment. You refuse to meet his eyes and just the both of you splutter for a moment. You force out a small "No... no he's not." You try and shield your face from the red bull driver and you see Charlotte cast a wary glance at Mark again. She whispers to you again "My daddy said all Australians are upside down? Is he ok?" This time, Mark clearly overhears her and chuckles. You shake your head and when Charlotte catches sight of a food cart tucked to the side of the McLaren hospitality, she races towards it, pulling you along with her.

Mark trails behind and unbeknownst to you, stares at the two of you with a look of longing. A dream future suddenly flashing before his eyes, hitting him with yet another harsh realisation of his feelings. Mark continues to look ahead at the two of you. He can't help himself from grinning yet the domestic moment is quickly broken by a man's frantic shouts.

"Charlotte!" The younger girl, now with a muffin in hand turns and widens her eyes. "Daddy!" The man runs towards his daughter and scoops her up in a protective hug, hand resting on the back of your head. His eyes are shut in sheer happiness to have his daughter back and he finally meets your eyes. "Thank you so much..." He pauses, the weight of who exactly finally found his daughter finally sinking in. You just give him a smile. "Hey, no worries. It was a pleasure to have her." The man looks down at his daughter and grins. "I'm impressed by how quickly she found the two of you. I've heen looking all morning and haven't found a single driver." You chuckle at the man, understanding exactly how little most drivers want to stop and converse with fans so early in the morning.

"Well, Charlotte here was more than exemplar at seeking us out." You reach out and rub a hand over the top of her head, making her giggle. The interaction brings you such joy and as you come to the realisation that your little moment with her and Mark is coming to an end, an idea strikes you. "Hey, how would you like to come and sit in my garage for the weekend!" Charlotte's father's jaw just drops as the girl nods happily at you. "Please, please, please!" She tugs on her father's hand "Please daddy can we?" This clearly wakes the man from his shock and still speechless, he nods franticly and you. You laugh at the grown man, who is now reduced to simple cognitive behaviour and turn towards the Williams garage. You expect to see Mark at your side and at some point in the conversation you must have failed to see him leave as the Aussie is no longer at your side. You try and ignore the pang of emotion you feel as you begin to lead the father and daughter duo to the Williams hospitality.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Silverstone brings yet another win and a healthy few points to add to your championship lead. And yes Sebastian Vettel is going to be a pain in your ass but when is he not...

But now is nit the time.to worry about that as you sit alone in a pub. The team had insisted on coming out and at first you'd enjoyed the evening, celebrating, singing along to your favourite songs etc. But now, you're sat alone in the corner of a dark room all alone. Your mind briefly flashes to last year at the end of the season and you try and push away the memory. At least then you were on civil terms with Mark. Now it seems like he can barely look at you. A cough makes you look up and you meet the familiar eyes of Jenson Button.

"We need to stop meeting like this." You roll your eyes at the cliché. And tilt your head "Well maybe you need to stop following me then." And for once in your life, Jenson Button makes you laugh because his dumbfounded look deserves to be placed in a museum. He grins at your laugher and quickly recovers, holding out a hand. "Well, we can't have our winner sulking in a corner. You need to celebrate!" You roll your eyes and take Jenson's hand, shaking your head as you speak "Just to clarify, this is because I have nothing beeter to do not because I want to spend the evening with you." Jenson grins. "Sure love, keep telling yourself that." And as you let Jenson lead to to the dance floor, you try and distract yourself from Mark and his recent behaviour and instead focus on Jenson. Someone who has tried to put in effort to cheer you up and be friendly towards you.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You meet Jenson's lips in a sultry kiss. "Don't think this means anything Button." You pull aways lightly and are met with the sight of Jenson's signature grin. "Of course not love." You just shake your head and snake your arm around his shoulders. Jenson carries on kissing you as if it would win him the world championship a hundred times over. And depsite the fact that yourself a year ago would have a fit at the thought, you must admit. Jenson Button is a damn good kisser. The sound of a distant knock sounds and the two of you pull away, your lower lip dragging between Jenson's own as you distance your faces. "Who is it?"

A second passes until you hear the familiar sound of your teammate. "Just me, Hase. Is everything alright in there?" You hum in agreeance and push Jenson oit of sight from the door. You pull down the handle and stick the top half of your body out of the door and are careful to shield Jenson from sight. You give Michael a smile and he furrows his brows before giving you a grin back. "Ah." You tilt your head at his clear realisation. "What?" The German shakes his head and grins. "Nothing Hase, just glad to see that you're alright. Are you going to go to sleep soon then?" You nod your head. "Here abouts. The race was pretty tiring and you know and just want to be ready for all of the practise Ross will no doubt make us do." Michael laughs at your repsonse, clearly used to his Ross and his intensity. Jenson also snorts at your remark but fortunately enough, Michael must not hear him over his laugher. You walk the Brit slightly, makinghim quietly grunt at the impact. "Well keep youreslf rested. And see you tomorrow." You give the older man that has become not only your mentor, but near family a soft smile. "Night, Schumi and tell Corinna and the kids I said hi." Michael smiles and walks a few steps and then lingers. "Y/N?" "Yeah?" "Don't stay up too late hm?" You sharply inhale. "What do yo-" You cut yourself off ad you see Michael's knowing look. You go to string together a coherent thought to respond but he beats you to it. "I've been there once too. Just make sure you get some rest, it's the most important thing. The both of you." You feel your cheeks warm and you look down in embarrassment as the German bids you goodnight once more and finally leaves.

You step back and gently click the door closed. Suddenly, you feel warmth around your waist. Jenson enveloped you in his arms and you hum. "He's a perceptive one." You chuckle slightly and Jenson begins to leave open mouthed kisses on the expanse of your neck. "Yeah- well I suppose you don't get 7 world championships for nothing." Jenson pauses and meets your eyes with yet another grin. "Yeah, well I'd be well on my way if there wasn't such a gorgeous distraction on track." You roll your eyes but let yourself grin this time. "Don't be rude Jense, there are far nicer ways to talk about Fernando."

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[mysteria157]

Undone

nanami kento x black fem reader

wc- 2.8k

warnings- angst, heavy themes, mental health and healing, the fluff that nanami brings.

a/n: I have been feeling like poo these past few days and trying to find my voice in writing. So I created a little drabble that helped me feel better. hopefully, it does for others as well. happy reading

divider: @saradika

He hasn’t heard from you in days.

Granted, that first date was 12 weeks ago, but Nanami is used to the string of texts between you that is consistently pinging—a feat that Nanami never thought to reach. He’s used to the late night phone calls, the FaceTimes that are meaningless because he just wants to look at you. But for the first time, you turned him down.

Three days ago, on the morning of a nice dinner he had planned, you called with a scratchy voice, “I’m just really tired today, but I’ll be shipshape in no time!” You had insisted.

With vigilance sewn into his body since the day he could remember, Nanami notices right away something is wrong. Maybe it was the distant crack of your words. Maybe it was the fact that you cleared your throat once, no—two times to make yourself sound as professional as possible. As if Nanami is an employer and not the man you’ve decided to let into his life.

Regardless, he was as polite as always. Content to change the subject and send you well wishes before hanging up. The meme texted to his phone five minutes later, sweetening whatever sour concoction had manifested in his belly from your phone call. But still…Nanami knows. So he waits.

He waits three days of agonizing silence before a maelstrom of worry finally claws its way to the surface of his pool of impassivity. He stops by the market first and grabs ingredients. There’s a soup recipe you love—a recipe he soaked up like a sponge as he hovered near you in your kitchen during your first date. He’ll make that.

On his way out of the market, his eyes catch a bouquet of Asian lilies. Sunset orange petals adorned with long dark stamen. He picks up a modest bouquet—something large enough to make you smile every time you see them, but not too much to make you sneeze from your allergies.

It’s 6:47 PM when Nanami’s shoes touch your welcome mat. Even as his eyes trace the tawny ‘Welcome!’ made of coir, he can feel the unease wafting from behind your closed door. Your spare key rests in his closed hand, the metal digging into his palm in a silent question. You insisted that it wasn’t too soon in the relationship for this, to have access to each other in this way. After all, finally opening his heart to love after keeping it locked behind the demands of work, Nanami wanted to take things slowly. But you had other plans—you always do. And now, Nanami is glad to have relented so quickly when you gave him the spare key two weeks ago.

You’re a tidy person, meticulous to a fault. So it’s easy for him to spot the littering of disarray. The curtains are drawn tight, casting your home into darkness. A trail of clothes starts from the door and trails to your room. There are dirty dishes in your sink—you hate going to bed with a messy kitchen. The air is permeable—a physical being that Nanami can see the particles as they float and scurry with his movements through your home.

He finds you in your room, a tornado of dirty clothes and empty takeout containers, three blankets deep, with only the top of your hair visible. The air is just as stale in here—heavy with the kind of silence that comes to life from too many hours alone with dark thoughts. Your phone lies on your nightstand, face-down, notifications from others probably neglected along with Nanami’s. He hates the sight, angry at whatever malevolent force that’s decided to torment you, and now he fights it.

The rustle of Nanami setting his things down makes you stir, the lump of covers oscillating with your movements as a flash of your melanin-rich skin pokes from the dark hole where you reside. Your eyes meet his—surprised, alarmed, and immediately angry.

“Get out,” you snap, your voice gravelly from disuse. Through the curtain of your textured hair, Nanami catches a sliver of your icy gaze, foggy with the heaviness he can smell in the room. He takes a step closer, and it’s a step too far. Your tired eyes widen with a simmering fury that makes Nanami think twice.

“Why can’t you listen?! You can’t be here…” you stop short, squeezing the covers around your already decaying form like a lifeline. “Not when I’m—like this.”

He takes another cautious step—your eyes narrow, a weak challenge—then another until he sits at the edge of your bed. The dip from his weight causes your feet to curve into the cavern, toes touching his thighs from beneath your covers.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

The still air seems to vibrate from your fury, dust motes zipping haphazardly as if being pulled back and forth by an invisible force.

“Call you? Call you?? So you could see this? So you could see how I can’t even—“A lump of confusion and rage dies in your throat, the sound gurgling like a sewage pipe. His hands clasp the blanket that covers your shoulders, pulling you up gently with no resistance. You want to smack his hands away, to yell at him to leave and never come back. Because you’re not ready for him to see you like this. Not yet.

But despite the bark of your bite, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically.

“I wanted to wait a few weeks,” you ramble, eyes turned away from him as you shiver from the cold air on your exposed upper half. You’re still wearing the same shirt from three days ago when you called Nanami to cancel; your eyes had already been filled with tears, your throat suffocating beneath torrential thoughts and negativity that springs to life when you least expect it.

“No one wants to see this so soon.”

“From that statement alone, I’m going to assume the men you dated before were below average in all respects.”

“Everyone expects some grandiose gesture to make all of…this go away. And it’s not that fucking simple.” You don’t acknowledge his assessment. Still rambling, still trying to push him away even as he stands. He pulls you up with him with a firm grip still on your shoulders, his care poking at your defenses with inquisitive fingers.

Your knees buckle, threatening to give out without the reassurance of his hold. Your rambling falls to the wayside, fading into the air around you as you finally comprehend your new position in front of him. Standing for the first time in days, the strength of his hands radiates warmth down to your toes. The room falls quiet, opening its ears to your uneven breathing and the smell of tears.

One beat. Two beats. Three.

“It seems you’re standing now,” he says simply, the low crooning timbre of his voice wafting over your face. You heave in a stuttering breath, suck down his air, and let it fill you from the inside with care you’ve neglected. Nanami doesn’t leave his words open for discussion. There is no question hidden in his matter-of-face statement. There is no undercurrent of judgment.

“A bath.”

“What? Kento—no. I don’t need—I don’t deserve—“ His hand slides from your shoulder to cup your cheek, silencing you with its warmth. You resist leaning into his touch, too embarrassed that he can see you like this—stinky, tired, so utterly crestfallen that you can barely function.

“I’ll draw you a bath. I’ll make you dinner. And once I’m sure you’re at least full and clean, then I’ll go. Until you’re ready for me again.”

Steam rises around you in the bathroom, carrying eucalyptus and lavender from the bath oils you like to indulge in on a terrible day like this one. You draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around your limbs to bury your head in the gap it creates. Your eyes catch the water droplets on your skin, hydrophobic and suspended in time before sliding into the bath water.

When you turn your head to the side, you catch your living room from the open door. He’s cleaned up—opened the curtains, picked up the laundry, and vacuumed the floors. One of your candles burns bright, the low whir of your washing machine sashaying through the apartment. All things you just haven’t had the energy to do.

It started off small, it always does. One thought—fleeting and infinitesimal—but still heavy with a nervousness that plants in your mind like a maggot, burrowing its way through the meat. Your symptoms are more anxious thoughts, more poor remarks of yourself, more he’s successful who are you kidding? More maybe they don’t like you, why can’t you see that? More once Kento sees this side of you, he’ll never want you again.

More, more, more even though those thoughts hold little evidence to prove true. But for you, those maggots burrow until there is nothing left of you but a hollow shell, a husk that has no choice and no energy but to lay down in bed and sleep the days away until the meat heals again.

Beneath the steam, you can spell the mix of thyme, peeled tomatoes, and garlic. The tomato soup you showed him how to make on your first date. He was inquisitive, watching silently, his eyes falling on yours too often to take good notes. Now, it’s another show of this man you’re growing to love, crafting something for you with his own hands, affection beneath the veil of reservation that he shows everyone else.

It’s too much for you. The tears come quietly, spilling down your cheeks and into the bath water, polluting the love that was used to create it.

You hear his footsteps, padded feet on your now clean floor as he walks into the bathroom and takes in the sight of you. You blink against the rush of embarrassment, too tired to wipe the tears away, too tired to hide a vulnerability you wanted to keep a lid on for awhile longer.

He walks to your sink, gathering product, a hair bottle, and a wide-toothed comb before coming back to you. He kneels beside the tub and rolls up his navy sleeves without ceremony, pinching off his glasses before he sets them on the floor. He’s soft but efficient in the way he rubs your bar soap on your loofah, getting it nice and sudsy. He’s relaxed but observant—his tie loosened but not completely off, his forearms flexing with quelled strength as he washes your back and shoulders, the slight furrow of concentration in his brows as he measures his next words.

“Strawberry and cream cheese danishes.”

“Hm?”

“If I eat one, I’ll want more. So I try to stay away when I can.” Nanami continues, washing the soap off your shoulders before he hands you the loofah. You take it without question, watching him disappear to sit behind you as you wash your limbs.

“After Yu…I would bury my sorrow in work. I worked and worked and worked until my boss forced me to take time off. It’s a sneaky sickness. It likes to watch over you and strike the very moment your guard is down.”

You hear the squeeze of your hair bottle behind you, your snarled strands soaking with rosemary-scented mist in his gentle fingers.

“It’s been years. But when it does hit, that darkness that seems to strangle me and tell me that I should have tried harder, that I should have protected him….I like to go across the street from my home and get a strawberry and cream cheese danish.”

You know Nanami has a sweet tooth. You’ve seen the way his eyes light up from the pies that you like to make, always bringing him a slice to work. You’ve seen the sidelong glance he gives strudel that steams behind glass display cases at the bakery he takes you to. But to imagine him leaving his apartment in the dead of night, wrinkled clothes and bags beneath his eyes, not showered in days—paying for a danish…you hitch a breath, a chuckle squeaking and dying in your throat with a painful lurch.

“Why are you laughing?” He admonishes. You can practically feel the lifted brow and gentle smile on your back. Your skin tingles with the movement of his fingers as he works them through your hair, detangling with rosemary and leave-in conditioner

“Do you buy the three-pack?”

Silence. A pause in your hair before baby hairs flutter from the puff of air he shoots out. You bite your lip to keep the dry smile from forming.

“No,” he lies, playfully.

The heaviness in the air gives way to a light current of brightness from your fleeting smile, from the smell of the tub, and your hair now detangled and loose before shrinkage claims it.

“I’m not sure what’s compelled you to think there’s a proper time to tell me that your thoughts grow dark at random moments in your life. Now, two months from now, it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

The declaration wraps around you, sliding down your ajar mouth and curdling in your lungs with certainty, taking root in the muscle for the foreseeable future.

“And if it is alright,” he continues, carding his fingers through your hair to plait it into a single braid. “I would like to love every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide. The parts that make you think that you’re not good enough—for me, or your friends, or anyone else. If anything, being able to be here, right now, is a privilege I’ll cherish.”

When the fresh tears spill over again, they no longer taint the water you soak in. They cleanse, collecting and filtering away the depression and anxiety that claims so much of your life when you least expect it.

After, when you’re clean and smelling of Shea butter that Nanami slathered you in, you sink into your now clutter-free sofa. The exhaustion settles on your bones in a different way. Well earned after a long battle instead of invasive and unasked for.

Your eyes rest on the lovely bouquet of Asian lilies on your coffee table, fresh with stems cut, curling toward you with open petals so you can see the beauty inside. The gesture fills you with more of that feeling, of love that you never imagined to come so soon with a man like him.

Nanami walks around the sofa, a tray that he sets in front of you carrying his own rendition of your tomato soup, toasted sourdough grilled cheese, and a tall glass of water.

“Extra basil?” You ask, lips wobbly around a smile as you take in another form of his adoration that you’ll have forever if he allows it.

“Extra basil.”

When he returns with his own tray, his hair falling over his eyes in a heap of hard work, he offers you a look. A measured look that’s filled with everything he wants to give, an excitement in his warm brown eyes that you can’t wait to see more of. But it’s shrouded in a gentle reservation with gaps only visible to you. Soft smiles for you. Loving touches for you. A beacon in storms that brew seemingly out of nowhere just for you.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against your forehead, a safe place where he can take some part of you while you heal. But you’d like more. So you tilt your head for him, soaking the warmth from his lips that press against yours softly.

Suddenly, your worries, your dark thoughts, your misery that you let keep you beneath your blankets for days all smoothed over from his touch. Satiated until those maggots in your mind wiggle to life again when they’re hungry.

“Marcus didn’t give a rose to Janine.” He says casually as he draws back to his side and turns on the TV, nonchalant as if he didn’t just spend the evening putting you back together with gentle hands and quiet love.

You relax into his side, looking at his arm with teary eyes as he rests it on the couch behind you, offering a blanket of comfort and safety that you haven’t had in a long time.

“Gojo spoiled it,” Nanami continues, grumbling and annoyed at the two syllables of Gojo’s name touching his tongue. He blows at his spoon of soup, eyes locked on the screen, his sharp features colored with flickering blues and reds.

He notices your stillness—of course, he notices—and offers you another kiss on your cheek before turning back to the show.

“I’ll steal his kikufuku as punishment,” you offer, arm shaking with the gentle chuckle he gives in response.

The soup steams in your hands, your hair soft and braided, your body worshiped and clean, Nanami’s heartbeat permeable beneath his clothes as you sink into him and sip your delicious soup.

For the first time in years, you know when the world feels heavy, he’ll be able to lift that weight off of you before it buries you away.

[bridenore]

Author rec : Oflights

Oflights is one of my favorite authors. Here are a few recs, listed in alphabetical order.

all the western stars by @oflights [78k]

Draco is a Seer who has been struck with terrible, uncontrollable visions of the deaths of everyone around him, triggered by touch. He retreats to an Unplottable Black family cottage to research his condition and fix it. Things are going relatively well until Harry Potter shows up at the cottage with a furry condition of his own.

along each garden wall by @oflights [61k]

Draco has to have a baby (or have one on the way) at the time of his fast-approaching 35th birthday, or he's going to lose his home to his vile cousin. Harry offers to help, but their complex past—even beyond Hogwarts—prompts Draco to set out on a long journey of friendship, kittens, gardens, motorbike rides, and more.

Close Behind by @oflights [134k]

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

Cool About It by @oflights [134k]

Harry is so excited for his first date with Draco. But what follows isn't so much a date as it is an all-night odyssey including a malevolent lift, a Gringotts heist, a Sleeping Curse, a trip to the kebab shop, a lack of dancing, a Muggle drug, a rooftop pool party, a black eye and, eventually, a sunrise over a Quidditch stadium.

find a new place to be from by @oflights [47k]

Something is wrong with Malfoy Manor, and it’s driven Draco into the Muggle world. Thankfully, Harry is now on the case. A story about houses that haunt you and homes built for two.

A Hundred Visions and Revisions by @oflights [11k]

Harry doesn’t really like remembering. As he’s grown older, he’s found that discovering or creating or even making things up are all much less painful than remembering.

if the bees know by @oflights [19k]

Scorpius’ playground is haunted, Harry specializes in helping ghosts pass on, and Draco just wants his son to be safe.

Make This Leap by @oflights [118k]

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

On Fingers Broken Long Ago by @oflights [85k+]

After a ten year absence, Harry returns to his old life in England to find Draco Malfoy at the center of it. A tale of rekindling old flames, unlikely inter-House alliances, angry Hufflepuffs, and medical mysteries ensues. Bound to Linger by @oflights [20k+] Sequel to On Fingers Broken Long Ago; Draco is campaigning for a board seat, Harry still hates Zacharias, and a dragon pox outbreak hits the second floor staff, so nobody has time for anything. Oh, and then there's maple syrup. Tunnel by @oflights [15k+] Sequel to On Fingers Broken Long Ago; see notes and warnings for more details. A history of loss makes Draco fear the future, even the golden one he sees with Harry.

The Star Splitter by @oflights [219k]

On a routine time travel assignment to the past, Draco stumbles upon 7-year-old Harry Potter and witnesses his neglect and mistreatment by the Dursleys. In the moment, there is only one solution, even if it goes against all his training as a Time Agent: he has to bring Harry back to the future with him. In which Draco burns his life down for the sake of his former school rival.

we have heard on high by @oflights [34k]

Reeling from the fallout of a bad breakup, Harry decides to find out who his soulmate is. The bad news: it’s Draco Malfoy. The good news: Malfoy doesn’t seem to know they’re soulmates. The worst news: Harry might be falling for him anyway.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[yanderelionwrites]

I'll Stay Here - Yandere!Leona x Reader

Content Warning: (soft) yandere, implied kidnapping/captivity, I fear the Stockholm Syndrome has ARRIVED

Word Count: 607

(Again, kind of a part 3 to this, but can be read on its own)

You really need to stop forgetting your things in Leona’s room. Luckily, he doesn’t mind you coming and going, but it’s still a pain to have to walk all through the palace to get there.

You’ve been keeping him company as of late, just sitting in his room while he naps or plays chess, meaning you like to bring your own stuff over to entertain yourself. Today, you left behind a book you were reading earlier, so you thought you would pop by really quick and take it back. Even though it was late in the evening, Leona would most likely be taking a nap right now, so he wouldn’t even bother with trying to engage with you.

Poking your head into his room, you confirm that he’s asleep before tip-toeing over to the table you left your book at. You grab it and turn to sneak back out, but you stop yourself when you glance at Leona’s face.

His expression appears so…soft. Free of the stresses his family, the servants, or even you sometimes cause him. He looks the most at peace he’s ever been…

It makes your heart swell, which is very alarming because you’re supposed to hate this man. And yet, despite it all, you still find yourself drawing nearer to him. Just to get a better look.

Leona sleeps soundlessly on his stomach, with his arms hugging the pillow his head is buried in. You can’t help but smile at the way his ear twitches; he looks like a napping kitty. It’s such a stark contrast to how he acts when he’s awake.

This is so frustrating… One minute you feel like you wish you never met Leona, and other times, you’re thinking it’s not so bad staying here with him. You have everything you need, and anything you want (other than freedom) can be given to you when asked. And Leona himself isn’t awful to be with… He makes sure you’re taken care of and remains respectful around you.

But do you love him enough to want to stay?

…You don’t want to admit you don’t hate him anymore.

Inching ever so closer to his sleeping body, you tentatively reach out to brush a strand of hair out of his face.

You shouldn’t…

Hesitantly, you lean down so that your face is hovering right over the crown of Leona’s head. You place the quickest and gentlest kiss on top of his hair, before immediately withdrawing from him. Trying to leave like you were never there, you turn towards the exit, but jump when a hand grabs your wrist.

A small yelp escapes your lips as you’re pulled backward onto Leona’s bed. Arms wrap around your waist, not too tight but firm enough to let you know that you won’t be leaving anytime soon.

“L-Leona?!” is all you can stutter out, hands uselessly pushing at his arms.

“Just stay here…please,” he utters into your ear, voice husky and surprisingly pleading.

“...Only for a few minutes,” you relent, letting him pull you against his chest.

A few minutes is all Leona needs. He’ll take what he can get.

He feels you relax next to him, and he couldn’t be more content. This was only a small step towards the future he envisions for you both, but it was still important progress. Leona bets you don’t even know how much he’s been holding back, how much of his feelings he’s repressed to make sure you’re comfortable here first. But with this small gesture, you’ve opened the doors to so much more.

You’ve walked into the lion’s enclosure, and there’s no getting out of it now.

~~~

Probably the last part to this little series. I've been cooking up something Savanaclaw related though, so stay tuned for that 👀

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[traegorn]

hey! i'm looking for some advice on a complicated issue - sorry if it's weird for a stranger to ask this from you but i couldn't think of anyone in my community, and you're a leftist creator i follow lol.

basically i'm a teen who lives in a very red area; i'm by far more left than anyone i've ever met, and i'm still figuring out my stances and trying to do research. i've gotten involved in community and politics, and i've done volunteering- through that volunteering i managed to land an internship with a local politician. a lot of people wanted it and i felt really fortunate and excited to learn more about how things are run on the inside.

i'll be honest....i really disagree with this politician on everything. they are very conservative. it was my number one reason for considering just not taking the internship, but my family convinced me that because i'm not in a campaigning office, and my work would just be taking calls, helping direct people to the right organizations/people that can help them with issues, etc., it would be alright.

and sometimes it does feel alright! i get to help people who are really scared/confused, politics aside. i don't do canvassing or anything, i'm not getting paid, so i started off thinking that i could use this experience to get more insight and then go from there.

but more and more i'm getting calls from people who disagree vehemently with the politician in question - people that i agree with personally. and everyday it's me going "i'm sorry, i'm just an intern, i can't speak on that" and hearing them ask me how i can stand by and support this person, that i'm just as complicit and bad as them...it's really got me thinking about quitting.

i wanted to get involved in politics and i thought this was the only way in a red area, but i feel really guilty. i was wondering if you have any thoughts on this?

Okay, so, you're in a tough spot. I don't know that I would have taken that job myself, but I think it's perfectly reasonable that you did. Like you said, you're not campaigning for them, you're working for their staff. Also, this is an internship. You're not in a position to change policy, and long term it's something you're going to move on from.

So I wouldn't really feel guilty if I were you. I wouldn't have done it myself, but I don't think you're contributing to some net evil in the world. If anything maybe there's a small chance that the personal relationships you're building with other people on that staff might bring some folks around.

Personal connections are usually the only thing that ever does.

As for people getting mad at you -- I need to tell you a secret: you're working in customer service. You're going to have to just sort of take it. The people calling you are often not going to be able to rationalize the difference between someone who just works there and someone making decisions. You took an internship with this person's office, which means you're going to get all the vitriol spilled onto you.

That's just going to happen. But, like, it would also happen if you were working for GameStop.

If you want to get involved in politics, the one thing you need to develop is a thick skin. You're going to spend your life getting the foulest things said to you, and you just need to learn to not let it affect you personally if you're going to get anything done.

And heck, if it does get to be too much... quit? It's an internship. You're not getting paid.

[soaked4mk]

What it’s like dating the Keeper of Time. (Liu Kang x reader Head Cannons.)

👽: I come with…head cannons :3 (not proof read)

Sfw 👉🏼👈🏼

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷

★ Liu Kang. The God of Fire, Keeper of Time. And your golden retriever boyfriend.

★ He is a very patient, kind and considerate man. He worships you in every way possible.

★ Doesn’t escalate things or give the silent treatment. He’d much rather talk it out and fix the issue

★ A very busy man, considering his occupation. But that never deters him from bonding with you.

★ He may have to leave you alone occasionally, and he feels awful about it every time. Almost as if he’s neglecting you.

★ But he always makes up for it. “I apologize for not being home sooner, my love.” “I hope I did not keep you waiting too long…”

★ The classic Liu Kang move is to massage you into relaxation, laying you down and telling you sweet little nothings.

★ “I am so grateful for waking up every morning, with you by my side.” “My pretty girl.” “You’re my everything, the center of my universe”

★ Peppering your face with kisses, nuzzling your neck and kneading out any tension you’re feeling while the two of you simply talk and enjoy each others company.

★ He definitely likes to play with your hair, or adjust your glasses if you wear them. Holding you and just genuinely admiring you.

★ Mindlessly doing acts of service for you because that’s his love language.

★ Liu Kang will make you breakfast, lunch and dinner. Coffee, tea, whatever snacks you like he’ll make or get. Insists on doing the chores, watering your plants, whatever you need he wants to be the one to lift it off your shoulders.

★ Surprising you with homemade dinner, remembers tiny details about your day, always bringing things up that make you feel seen

★ He loves you, and he cares deeply for you. Always making sure you’re safe—but respects your independence and trusts you wholeheartedly. Protective but not possessive.

★ An honest man, who expresses how he feels and values listening to you. Making sure you both feel understood in the relationship

★ Supportive of your goals. Not only does he believe in you, but he’s going to help you make those dreams come true any way he can.

★ Always feels at home with you, his warmth, his loyalty and genuine kindness make you feel loved and of course, comfortable. He’s your safe space in many ways.

★ Genuinely happy to hear about your interests. Even if he doesn’t know much about them, he’ll ask questions and just adores listening to you yap about whatever makes you happy

★ Liu Kang is empathetic and understanding. He can sense when you’re stressed out, and always listens without judgement. Supporting you through whatever you’re going through.

★ He finds your quirks and unique habits endearing. Like how you need extra pillows but still end up using him as your only one.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷

NSFW 🫠

★ Bro is an absolute munch.

★ Will eat you out until you’re a quivering, mewling, pathetic mess. and then some.

★ And then some because he’s also really into over stimulation.

★ Talking about nuzzling his nose onto your clit, pistoning his digits in and out of you while working your dripping cunt with his tongue. Long after you’ve already came.

★ Groaning softly as he trails kisses along your hips up to your ribs. Hovering above you as he strokes your slick folds. His free hand gently coming up to cup your tit, squeezing gently as you continue to tremble in his arms.

★ “There you go...that's it." “That’s right, you’re doing so good~” “Just like that, love.” “You can handle a little more, can’t you?” “Such a good little slut~” He’ll purr, his glowing eyes never leaving your face as it contorts in pleasure.

★ Pulling his fingers out of you with a soft pop, his mouth curling into a smirk as he watches you shudder in pleasure. Relishing in the aftermath of your orgasm.

★ He’s a soft dom, quick to praise, slow to punish. But that doesn’t mean he’s afraid to put you in your place, so don’t mistake his patience for anything but.

★ “On your knees for me, now.” He’ll point down, knowing you won’t argue. And if you do, he’ll simply collar you and tug at your leash until you listen like the good slut you are.

★ Yeah…he’ll probably collar you regardless. He likes treating you as his pet.

★ Prefers giving rewards over punishments.

★ if you’re being good for him, expect an intimate massage, kneading out all the tension in your entire body. Making you putty in his strong hands.

★ He’ll have his face be your personal throne.

★ Allow you to touch yourself, and depending on how good you are, you can use your favorite toy.

★ Right, okay okay. But let’s say you’re being a brat. An absolute menace. Like intentionally…because you feel like it.

★ Rolling your eyes, huffing and puffing or even invading his space when he’s obviously focused. That will catch him off guard but not irk him.

★ Interrupting him, pretending you don’t understand certain boundaries, trying to embarrass him…now we’re asking for actual punishment.

★ “I’ll hush that disrespectful mouth of yours.” He’ll hiss. Gripping your face with one hand before shoving you down to your knees.

★ “Go on, put your tongue to better use than trying to provoke me.”

★ Liu Kang will tie you up to the bed and leave you there without his company as a punishment. For real for real.

★ self pleasure is absolutely revoked for bad girls.

★ If you’ve managed to piss him off in a rather public setting, he’ll call you degrading nicknames (slut, whore, pet) in said setting. In front of others with the utmost nonchalance too.

★ You wanna make him look bad in front of others? He’ll simply make you apologize on your knees right then and there if you’re going all out.

★ After care/pampering comes very natural to Liu Kang. Spooning you while rubbing your back, telling you how good you were/are.

★ Liu Kang likes to light incense or candles to freshen the air while he fluffs the blankets and pillows for you. Grabbing you water and a small snack if needed.

[ko-existing]

https://www.tumblr.com/ko-existing/766133693448372224/httpswwwtumblrcomko-existing7661320713789440?source=share

Ko, please, how do I stop being so desire driven? I’m not asking this as a lesson, but more like a genuine advice from person to person. I’m 100% this is what keeps me from truly seeing the bigger picture.

I tried many times to just let go and not care about outcomes or read the lessons thinking “yeah, this will make me get the things”, but I can’t. Even if I try to convince myself there’s something deep down saying I clearly still only care about the outcomes. It’s tiring not only because it keeps me walking in circles, but also because I experience episodes of pure joy cause “yes, I can get it, it’s easy” and then ones of pure depression thinking “this is bullshit, you’re understanding it all wrong and won’t get anything, deal with it. You’ll never get anything.” It’s always the extremes, you know? 08 or 80.

I tried to simply step back of everything and just move on with the knowledge I’ve got to see if my mind and thought process unfolds naturally and I stop feeling this incessant seeking for finally KNOWING true self instead of seeing as a belief, but I always end up falling on that depression phase and constant need for reassurance that “yes, you’ll get it”, but as you know, it never leads me to nowhere when I’m constantly reading, and asking, and seeking.

You say “step back and ponder” and say that when we encounter the silence it should be enough, but for me somehow is not and it frustrates me because logically should be enough, I mean, I’m literally being left with the nothingness, what else could I possibly need to understand, right?

I just wanna stop feeling limited, trapped and suffering and most importantly, I want to stop being the cause of all of this suffering. But I placed my desires as the ultimate happiness and this constant feeling of separation never goes away. Why is so simply to read and understand “everything is formless”, but when actually “practicing” and applying seems so absurd? God, I’ve been this way this whole year and I’m so sick of it.

To answer genuinely—you're thinking too much.

If you’re feeling caught in this cycle of extreme highs and lows, it might help to try sitting with your thoughts in a more observing way, which can give you a clearer view of what’s driving the whole process. And no, IT IS NOT A NECESSITY. It's a help to watch without getting lost in thoughts but it is NOT A MUST.

I've been on tumblr long enough to know what to expect from other anons reading this like "i thought meditation is not nevessary". No one is saying throw on an orange robe, head off to the himalayan mountains to sit on a rock in a cave, drink Bo cha, chew on Chülen, start fasting and chant " ཨོཾ་མ་ཎི་པདྨེ་ཧཱུྃ" (om mani padme hum) around the clock like it's your monastic lifestyle job.

So, again, I'm not saying this is a necessity or a “must-do”. Meditating, or simply Noticing, can help you see your thoughts without getting so wrapped up in each one—nothing more. There are different options like listening to a guided one or just background music/sounds like rain. I personally like it. So, If it helps, it helps. If it doesn't, see what does.

I've also been on Tumblr long enough to know how quickly people start labeling everything as a “method” or a requirement, so just to be clear again: I’m not saying any of that!

The main thing here is to relax this intense drive for outcomes. You can actually start looking at these desire-driven thoughts as just “passing content”—and yes, this practice can help. When a thought like “I need this outcome to be happy” pops up, instead of believing it automatically, you could take a step back and notice that it’s just a thought arising out of nowhere and passing into nowhere. Watching thoughts like this reminds you they don’t define you and have no reality to them.

Also, see if you can bring your attention back to what’s here without needing to grasp, judge, or chase. Every time you relax that urge for outcome, you’re giving yourself a chance to rest in something that isn’t tied to outcomes at all. " ".

Experience what’s beyond the cycle of “wanting” and “fearing.” Keep it simple, remember it’s a gentle, easy redirection rather than some heavy practice. Never force anything. If you don't want to do it, don't. And never overconsume.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Just read your thoughts on the effects the Two will have on Sauron and Evil!Reader and Madam I am HERE FOR IT. (also maybe Sauron angsting really super duper hard over dead bae 🥹?)

Another thought I have on separation angst: Sauron mentions in The Two that he dreaded reader getting taken to the Elves’ safe haven made with the Rings, because he might not be able to feel her there. And what if she does get taken there as prisoner at some point, before they make the Two, and the bond just goes... radio silence. Crickets. It’s practically like a vital organ just poofed out of existence for both of them, even though they know the other is still out there.

For Sauron, that anguish translates into uncontrollable rage. His mind is muddled to the point where he can’t make good strategic decisions anymore, and that’s when the Elves outsmart him the most easily, because he has lost his ability to see things clearly and manipulate the situation to his benefit. Without you, he literally cannot think straight.

For you, it’s unfortunately a bit worse, since you’re not a Maia. Your mind is more vulnerable, and the shock of not feeling him anymore is too much to take (this kind of happened when he was killed by Adar too I am touching a bit on that in a current WIP). At first, you’re just angry too, and still your wicked self, mocking the Elves even as they hold you captive and refusing to reveal anything of value about Sauron and his plans. The Elves never resorted to torturing you, but with time they notice that simply keeping you where you can’t feel your husband is a form of torture in itself. You start to see things, to see him, visions created by your mind to fill the void. But your mind is also sick, so it’s not all good things, and every remark from Galadriel or Gil-galad that Sauron doesn’t love you, that he will discard you when he’s done, has wormed its way inside even if you don’t believe it. You’re starting to see only the bad things, only the fights, things like him screaming at you in Kill and make up that you ruined everything. Eventually, there’s nothing left of your defiance, you’re reduced to a mess on the ground, curled in foetal position, sobbing because your mind has convinced itself that your love secretly hates you, that he regrets binding himself to you and hasn’t come for you yet because he’s now finally free of your meddling with his plans.

Galadriel pities you for what you have become. Some of the comfort she offers is genuine as she tries to sway you still, to get you to reveal who has the Nine, what Sauron plans to do next, anything that will help them win the war. To your later fury, you even end up accepting an embrace from her at that lowest point, but even then you never betray him, because at its core, though it’s wrapped up in so much fucked-up-ness, your love for him is genuine and you won’t abandon him even if (as you think) he has abandoned you.

And then imagine his horror when you are finally reunited only for you to be completely wrecked at the sight of him for all the wrong reasons—begging him not to say he hates you again (as he has been doing in your visions) because you can’t bear to hear it anymore, sobbing that you’re sorry, you’re so sorry you’re no good. That’s the next time Sauron sheds a tear after killing Celebrimbor. He is furious at the Elves for bringing you in this state, but also for the first time he realizes he fucked up badly himself. He took it for granted that you always knew through your bond that you are his everything despite the harsh words he threw your way in anger, but now he sees all the damage he has done coming out when the bond was no longer there to reassure you.

Of course, now that you are together again, that rift in your mind begins to mend and you realize it was all just a bad waking dream. But just... that initial reunion of you sobbing in agony and him crushing you in his embrace and opening up his soul to you with everything he has to show you that he loves you, he loves you so fucking much, and the only reason why he didn’t find a way to get to you sooner was because his mind literally did not function properly without you.

Is it still a pretty fucked up relationship? Yes. But this is one of those tragic moments when you get a glimpse of the glimmer of pure sentiment that is at the heart of your corrupted souls.

[litnerdwrites]

This can't be seen as anything but racist to me.

We know three things about Illyrians based on what the IC have said in the books:

They are violent Misogynists, to the point where they believe mutilating women is supposed to be completely normal.

They are a warrior race who value status & bloodlines more than anything, happily throwing away and abusing those bastards and those considered weak.

They're super stubborn about the aforementioned points.

Nothing about the 'rich culture' that Illyria supposedly has. How does that make Rhys comparing Nesta to an Illyrian, especially as a woman, anything but insulting. It very much gives the same vibe as somebody insulting you, and then laughing it off because it's 'just a joke' even if it hurts you, putting you in an awkward position where your feelings are undermined but it's hard to speak up without seeming like you're making a mountain out of a molehill.

As things stand, all signs point to Rhys & Co. Not liking Illyrians. I'd argue that they outright hate Illyrians. So how could any comparison made between Nesta and an Illyrian be anything but an insult?

It's also unbelievably racist. The IC happily make comments about how terrible Illyria is and how it's cold and miserable. Mor says it right as they're walking through Illyria, so clearly they don't try to hide their distaste. The lack of Illyrian women in the library is also concerning, given that they're well aware of the treatment of women there, and in the HC. Why is that? Rhys is The Most Powerful High Lord, he could bring women to the library no problem, using his authority to overrule the Illyrians and save them, but doesn't. Why? Is maintaining an army worth the suffering of thousands? What about the orphans and bastards who are left with nothing? Or the children beaten regularly? Could he not do anything about that? Build more shelters, help provide more food, and other goods through trade?

Speaking of oppressed women, when Rhys compared Nesta to Illyrians, was he comparing to the oppressed women who are mutilated and abused regularly? Or the abusers who regularly mutilate and abuse women? Cause I have a feeling I know which and yet people still argue that Nesta 'should be grateful to him' and 'has said worse'.

Also, just generally, comparing a person you don't like or who you feel has wronged you, to an entire race of people you speak only negatively about, is racist. Especially when the original person isn't part of that race, like who tf do you think you are?

Even if Rhys did, hypothetically, mean it as a compliment, that doesn't make it any less racist or messed up. It means he has to reevaluate his view on the Illyrians, and learn more about them before ever speaking about/on behalf of them again.

Finally, let's talk about the 'she has no excuse' line.

First off, Nesta is having a very valid and common trauma response. One that I'm sure would be common in Illyria given how the Illyrians are a warrior race, and war is, well, traumatising. Veterans with ptsd, children being turned into soldiers, or beaten for having the audacity to be born with a uterus, families grieving the loss of mothers, fathers, daughters, wives, husbands, cousins, sons, sisters, brothers, friends, aunts, etc. Illyria, based on what we know, is probably ripe with traumatised people, and alcoholism, gambling and sex are some of the most common coping mechanisms for trauma. So what do you mean no excuse? Not even just Illyrian, but many people struggle with.

But, at the end of the day, a person's skin color has no bearing on what's an 'acceptable' form of coping. Suffering is suffering. Trauma is trauma. As things stood, the entirety of the IC were so unbelievably lucky that Nesta hadn't committed suicide, even by that point. Thinking of the potential suicides in both the HC and Illyria is actually terrifying, given the amount of trauma that the people from either location have to endure.

It makes you wonder what Mr. mental-health-matters-and-your-trauma-is-valid-Rhysand does to help the Illyrians to cope with their trauma? What resources do they have? Is there a library for them? What about a counselor, like the priestesses have? What about in the HC? What about the toxic masculinity that pressures boys into being strong soldiers, and abuse women? Being taught that they're there for domestic labour and child bearing, and nothing more?

Do you know what it feels like to be suffering in your own head, to the point you're contemplating an early grave, feeling alone, and unworthy of even the slightest affection or help, and everyone in your life just confirms your worst fears? Do you know how it feels to want to scream at the top of your lungs that everything from waking up to drinking water feels like the most difficult, painful thing you've ever done? Do you know how it feels when everyone tells you how much they love you, and want you to be happy, only to hate yourself even more when you can barely muster a smile for their sake, and all you can do in their presence is disassociate and try not to fall apart, as you hear your father's murder over and over again in your head?

Do you know what it feels like to be reminded time and time again how great you have it, and to be thankful, and that you should be happy for your life, and for the sake of others, and that it'll be better once you conform, and push everything down and let the world see you as a happy smiley person even if it kills you? Or what about when you're ridiculed, and insulted and spoken down to for the way you cope, the only thing keeping you alive? To never be able to let anyone see that part of you that's dying, because they care more about coping 'the right way' and appearances than you're wellbeing, is the most suffocating, lonely experience you could imagine.

If Nesta had conformed and interacted with the IC the way they wanted her to, I wholeheartedly believe she'd've been dead within a week. This is what Nesta's enduring, and the so called feminist, pro mental health, anti misogynist 'king' is saying things like that?

Seriously, it's such a small line, but it points to so many issues that people just refuse to acknowledge. It just comes off as Rhys being a misogynist who victim blames anyone who doesn't keep up appearances with him and his band of clowns and psychos.

thinking about the time rhysand said “nesta is… she’s illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an illyrian at heart. so there is no excuse for her behavior.”

and that behavior is... playing cards at seedy taverns while spending the money rhysand owes her? if she's an illyrian at heart then maybe he'd prefer she go on a rampage and slaughter an entire village? rhys trying to pass this off as a compliment is also ridiculous because everything sjm has written about illyrians paints them as savage, violent monsters with bigoted/misogynistic beliefs. he is so foul for this