#it's another thing when it puts her on the same

[cameronsprincess]

i understand that reqs r closed and u completely don’t have to fulfill this but i thought you’d do a BANGER job at this prompt: u and rafe r married but are getting divorced and u threw a divorce party… only to end the night going home with him… a little bit of angst with some smut?? idk make it ur own 💗

zyaaaa<3 i love you for this, and thank you for trusting ME with your request!!!

CW: 18+ only! slight angst, more fluff than i intended, divorce, smut, male receiving oral, piv sex.

note: yeah yeah reader went out w her friends but left w rafe and none of them tried to stop her. in my head none of them noticed their interaction/her leaving with him. let’s pretend they’re blowing up her phone while she’s gettin’ the best dick down of her lifeee. also, i suck at endings, its my biggest flaw so yeah sorry if the ending is bad.

“here’s to finally being free of the most toxic marriage to the most toxic man!” you say joyfully, clinking your glass with three of your closest friends.

your friends all giggle, bringing the champagne flutes to their lips and taking small sips. you glance around your house, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders as you take in how freeing it feels to finally have your divorce finalized. you’d been married for three years, and while it was good at first, somewhere during the marriage your— now ex— husband had become cold and indifferent toward you. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, nor could you give a reason why, but all you knew was enough was enough. you were too young and too beautiful to spend the rest of your life in a loveless marriage to a man who treated you like shit.

your friends voice rips you from your thoughts. “earth to y/n.. you okay babe?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, giving your friend a big smile before nodding your head. “yeah i’m fine,” pausing, you down the rest of your champagne, setting the glass onto your coffee table and rising from your spot on the couch. “let’s go out tonight.”

your friends all share slightly concerned looks with one another before their attention lands on you. nicole clears her throat, awkwardly shifting before she finally speaks, “i mean.. yeah sure, but are you sure you wanna put yourself out there like that right now?”

you roll your eyes, sighing. “yes i’m sure. i just spent the last year of my life going through a messy divorce process, so i’d like to go out with my girls, have some drinks, dance a little, and maybe, just maybe, find some hot guy to bring home. i’m not going out to find my next husband, jesus.”

and that’s exactly what you did, but little did you know… the man you’d go home with was your ex husband.

—

“another shot of patrón please? thank you!” you shout to the bartender, giving him a flirty half-drunken smile.

the bartender nods, moving to pour your drink before sliding it across the bar to you. you smile, grabbing the glass and downing it before setting it back on the bars top.

“a pretty woman like you shouldn’t be buying her own drinks.” a low, raspy voice says from behind you.

you bite at your bottom lip, smiling to yourself before turning to face the mystery man. your eyes widen in shock when you see rafe, standing so close to you that you could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“rafe.. what the fuck are you doing here?”

he smiles down at you, taking a step closer, backing you into the bar. “i could ask you the same question. the divorce only finalized today, trying to forget me so soon, sweetheart?”

“i’m not your fucking sweetheart, rafe. now leave me alo-”

rafe grips at your hips, pulling your body into his. he dips his head down, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, groaning as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “i miss you. do you miss me?”

your pussy pulses from his words, the smell of him so intoxicating it had your head spinning more than it already was. you did love him, and you hated that he pushed you to file for divorce, but it’s how things were. you couldn’t mess up everything you’d fought for, not now, not ever.

you try and shove him back, but his hands tighten on your waist, not allowing you to move. “baby, stop. m’sorry, for everything. i know the divorce finalized today, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still fuck.. maybe try and just be friends, date, see where life takes us, right?”

he was trying to manipulate your drunk mind, and you couldn’t let him win. you refused to let him win. it was done. you were free of him, so why was he here and trying to reel you back in? he didn’t miss you, he missed the comfort you brought him, he missed how you’d always try and calm his mind, how you’d forgive him every time he fucked up. he didn’t miss you.

“rafe please, stop. i’m too drunk for this argument. you don’t fucking miss me, you miss the way i was for you,” you pause, your half-lidded eyes looking up and finding rafe’s beautiful blue eyes. “i can’t do this, please.”

you tear your eyes off his, knowing if you looked into them for too long, you’d be a goner. you’d go home with him, let him have his way with you, and wake up regretting it in the morning, because you and rafe could never work out. not as friends, not as a couple, not as anything.

rafe slides his left hand up your sides, reaching your face and cupping your cheek in his hand. his thumb slowly strokes the skin before he hooks his thumb and index finger under your chin, forcing your head up.

“baby.. i do miss you. please, just— just let me prove to you how much i fucking miss you.”

his words tug at your heartstrings, your body melting into his touch like it always did. tears well in your eyes, your chin wobbling as you look into his eyes, eyes that used to make your heart stop and made you feel safe and at home.

sighing, you nod your head once. “okay.. okay fine. just one night, we can look at it as… goodbye sex. right?”

a smile takes over rafe’s lips, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart. let’s go.”

he quickly grabs your hand, pulling you across the dance floor and out the doors of the club you were in. the warm, mid-summer air hits your skin, the light breeze sending goosebumps up your arms. rafe drags you across the parking lot, eagerly reaching his truck and unlocking it, opening the passenger door for you. you raise a brow at him, “someone’s really trying tonight, isn’t he? you stopped opening my door for me years ago.”

rafe chuckles. “i’m sorry for that… truly.”

you roll your eyes, giving him a small smile before lifting yourself into his truck, pulling on your seatbelt as he shuts the door for you. he rounds the front of his truck, hopping into the driver seat and starting the truck, putting it into reverse and speeding out of the clubs parking lot.

the ride back to rafe’s house is comfortably silent, and the second you two arrive, rafe is killing the engine and hopping out to help you out and into his house.

you barely make it through the front door before rafe’s lips are on yours. he grips your hips in his hands, squeezing tightly as his lips devour yours. he bites at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it softly. he rests his forehead against yours, the sound of both your heavy breathing filling the small entryway of his house.

“fuck i missed you, i missed you so fucking much sweetheart.” rafe breathes out, his hands slowly running up and down your sides.

he runs his hands down to your ass, squeezing at it softly before running them down further, his fingers playing with the hem of your dress. he begins slowly pulling the dress up your body, exposing your black lace thong, sucking in a sharp breath, “fuck.”

your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze, “rafe.. please? ‘m so horny, just need to feel you tonight, okay? just make me forget why we split up.”

rafe bites his bottom lip hard, nodding his head furiously. he pulls your dress off completely, tossing it behind you. he dips his head down again, his lips attacking the length of your neck with sloppy, open mouthed kisses. your knees grow weak, slightly shaking when he sucks softly at the skin of your neck, pulling back and groaning as he admires the deep purple bruise he’d marked you with.

“so beautiful,”

you drop to your knees, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt, finally pulling it free from the loops of his khakis and tossing it to the floor before working his button and zipper. rafe is quick to shove his khakis and boxers down, letting his hard cock spring free. you moan at the sight of him, hands reaching out hesitantly to grip at his thick shaft.

a low groan spills from rafe’s lips the second your hands wrap around him, giving slow and deliberate strokes. “always looked so pretty on your knees f’me, never wanna lose this, baby.”

you dart out your tongue, licking up the precum that had leaked from his tip. you moan at the taste of him on your tongue. you missed him, and this is definitely a huge step backward, but you’d deal with the consequences later. tonight, you wanted to soak up having him be attentive and loving with you again, he hadn’t been this way in so long.

“c’mon baby, suck my cock, need to feel those pretty lips wrapped ‘round me.”

you obey, wrapping your lips around his swollen tip and sucking at it lightly, your hands still slowly stroking at his shaft. rafe groans, his head thrown back in pleasure as his cock twitches in your hands. you slowly push more of him into your mouth, sucking him down your throat until he’s buried deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you hold him there, breathing in deep through your nose, while your tongue works at the vein on the underside of his cock.

you pull your head back, leaving only the tip in your mouth. you tease him, sucking at his head before pulling him out completely, giving quick strokes with your hands, your lips leaving soft kisses up and down his length.

rafe wraps his hand in your hair, tugging harshly at your messy locks as he groans in frustration. “baby, please? you wanna hear me beg? i’m not beneath begging, not with you at least.”

you shift on your knees, your clit pulsing at how desperate he was for you. this is what you wanted, for rafe to be desperate for your touch and attention. not wasting another second, you push him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you begin bobbing your head up and down, taking him all the way down your throat before slowly sliding him back out. rafe’s grip on your hair loosens, but he quickly tightens it back, yanking at your hair harshly as he holds you in place. he begins thrusting his hip, fucking himself down your throat at a quick pace, taking away your air with each push of his hips.

tears roll down your face, your throat already sore from how hard he was fucking it. you gag and moan around him, feeling him twitch in your mouth, the vein on the bottom of his shaft throbbing. you work your tongue against him, helping push him toward his release. rafe’s cock swells, low curses falling from his lips. he yanks your head back by your hair, his cock slipping from your lips, “goddamn… forgot how good you take a throat fucking, baby.. but i wanna cum somewhere else tonight.”

your tear-filled, bloodshot eyes meet his and he extends his hand out for you to grab. you hesitantly place your smaller hand in his, letting him pull you up off your knees. his lips are on yours in seconds, tongue slipping into your mouth, tongues swirling and teeth clashing. rafe listen you off the ground, pulling you into his arms as your legs wrap around his waist. he walks you into the large living room, his lips never leaving yours. he finally breaks the kiss, gently dropping you onto his couch, the cool leather chilling your hot skin.

rafe drops to his knees, his fingers digging into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs and tossing them onto the coffee table behind him. his eyes flit down to your dripping pussy, the bright blue of his eyes drowned out by his blown pupils. he grips your thighs in his hands, roughly spreading them further apart, “you’re soaked, sweetheart. i knew you fuckin’ missed me.”

you whimper, rolling your hips in a silent plea for him to touch you. rafe chuckles, his right hand releasing your thigh and moving to cup your pussy. he slides two fingers through your slick folds, coating them in your arousal before bringing them to his lips, “mmm.. still so sweet.” he rasps.

rafe stands to his full height, lifting you off the couch and turning, sitting himself down with you in his lap. you grind yourself against his hard cock, moaning at the delicious pressure on your clit as you did. rafe lets his head fall back, his hands tightly gripping at your ass as he helped you slide yourself against his throbbing cock. you lift yourself onto your feet, hovering over him as you grasp his shaft in one hand, lining him with your entrance. rafe’s eyes find yours, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he waited to finally feel your pussy wrapped around him.

you slowly sink yourself down on his cock, the two of you moaning in unison. you sit yourself all the way down, burying him to the hilt, both of your hands flying to his shoulders, your nails digging into the soft skin. rafe hisses in a breath, his cock pulsing inside you, “can i move? please baby? wanna fuck this perfect fucking pussy.”

you whimper when he bucks his hips, the swollen head of his cock hitting at your sweet spot. “yes. please, rafe. please fuck me.”

that’s all rafe needed to hear. his hands make purchase on your hips, lifting you up off his cock, leaving only the tip inside before he slams himself back in. you cry out his name, leaning forward and burying your face in his neck. rafe lifts your hips slightly, allowing himself just enough room to quickly pound himself into you. your walls clench around him, tears rolling down your cheeks from the pleasure he was giving you but also because you knew, you couldn’t let him go again after this.

you lift your face from his neck, resting your forehead against his, the two of you staring into each others eyes as rafe continues to fuck himself inside you. rafe pulls his right hand off your hip, his thrusts slowing as he reaches up and swipes a tear from your cheek. “don’t cry, baby.”

you sniffle, “just feels so… fuck— so good, rafe.”

rafe slowly moves his hips, his thrusts slow and sensual. you cup his face in your hands, your eyes scanning his perfect face before falling to his lips. rafe leans forward, capturing your lips with his as the two of you move your hips in sync. you moan against his lips, your walls fluttering around his cock, “rafe.. ‘m so close… please..”

“i know baby… i know,” rafe lets out his out pleasure filled moan, his voice cracking as the next words leave his mouth, “i love you… fuck i love you, this is all about you, let it out, be my good girl and cum f’me, yeah?”

you let out a choked sob, the three small words that left his mouth pulling your heart in more ways than one. your mind is reeling, does he mean it? was losing you what he needed to realize he truly loves you and needs you? do you forgive him? your pussy clenches around rafe’s dick, your lower belly tightening as rafe’s slow strokes push you toward the edge. you sink your teeth into rafe’s shoulder, muffling your cries as you come undone around him, tears uncontrollably rolling down your face.

rafe groans, his thrusts slow and sloppy. his dick twitches inside you, a choked “i love you,” escaping him as he pushes in deep one final time, holding himself inside you as he fills your pussy with his cum.

the two of you are holding onto one another, coming down from your shared highs. heavy breathing fills the room, and when you fully come down from your bliss, you’re pulling yourself off of him, scrambling to find your panties, ignoring the wetness between your thighs and his cum seeping out of you. you’re quick to throw your panties on, turning to rush and find your dress, but rafe grabs your wrist, pulling you back into him.

you can’t look at him, “hey.. baby, look at me, please.”

a tear falls down your face, but you force yourself to look into his eyes, noticing that his are filled with his own unshed tears.

“this was a mistake.” you whisper, but rafe heard you anyways.

his brows furrow, “how can you say that?”

you try and push off of him, but he tightens his arms around you.

“rafe, please. we got a divorce. you made your bed, you chose to treat me like shit and lose me. we can’t work. we don’t work.”

rafe sighs, “listen. i meant everything i said, i’m fucking sorry. i love you, i just… goddamnit, i just suck at showing my emotions. i suck at letting people in, and because of that, i pushed you away and lost the best fucking thing that ever happened to me,” you laugh, rolling your eyes but rafe’s face never falters. “i’m not fucking joking. i fucking love you, okay? okay, y/n? i fucking love you, and i need you.”

you don’t know what to think. your divorce was just finalized, you can’t possibly go back… can you? you do love him, and never wanted this in the first place. what if you take him back and things go back to shit? you’ll look like an idiot.

rafe cups your face in his hands, his blue eyes shining as he stares back at you. “i see you overthinking this, and i understand. i do. but hear me out, please?”

“o—okay..”

rafe blows out a breath. “thank you. i know how i feel. i fucked up, and i want to prove to you that i can be better… for you. please, just, stay with me tonight, let me try and get a start on proving to you how much i need you back,” he pauses, swallowing harshly before he continues, “and if after tonight, you still feel the same.. you can leave and i’ll never bother you again.”

you think over his words, knowing that you would do anything to receive the love you once did from him again. you squeeze your eyes shut, running a hand through your hair as you let out a shaky breath. “rafe, i— fuck.. okay. fine. but if i do choose to take you back, you cannot go back to how things were. i can’t go through this again, i can’t look like the idiot who went running back just because her ex husband spewed a few sweet words after sex..”

rafe smiles hopefully, “i understand, i promise, i mean everything. i will prove to you how much i fucking love you,” he leaves a soft kiss to your lips, standing from the couch with you in his arms bridal style. “now, let’s get your upstairs and cleaned up, then we’ll lay in bed and we can talk about anything, whatever you want, tonight’s all about you, and i’m here to listen and do whatever i can to fix us.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @rafesbabygirlx @sarahsangelicdoll @nemesyaaa @cherryobx @httpsdrewstarkey @rafeyscurtainbangs @oceandriveab

[kaliforniahigh]

maybe you want her, maybe you need her - n.s.

4 times Noah slept with you and 1 time he realized he was falling in love.

Warnings: the expression "slept with" is used loosely in this fic, talks of past experiences, Noah is a little nervous at first, smut (unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, fingering, mutual masturbation) a little bit of dirty talk and realization of feelings.

WC: 3.3k

Requests are closed for now / Click here to be added to the permanent tag list <3

1:

The first Noah slept with you was experimental.

You had just agreed on a friends with benefits relationship a few days ago. He was having a conversation with you on his couch, the guys out there on the back patio grilling some burgers and drinking some beer.

Somehow, the conversation took a turn into the topic of relationships, and Noah expressed to you how he only seemed to find girls looking for a serious relationship. He was young and with a whole career ahead of him, not wanting to settle down with only one person yet.

And you expressed how you only seemed to find uninteresting and rude guys. How you never felt comfortable bringing these people into your home, or even going to their house. And that you weren't looking for a comitted relationship either, and these men only seemed to want a woman to be their housewife.

Then, Noah went into a interesting topic. Casual sex.

He mentioned that he never trusted people enough to have just nice, casual sex with them. He always had this doubt lurking in his head that in the next morning, a picture of him in a compromising position was going to surface on the internet.

You giggled a little at this idea, but completely understood his worries.

You, on the other hand, mentioned how difficult it was to find a guy who was even half decent in bed. Most of them only caring about their pleasure, and just left you unsatisfied while they put on their clothes and left, promising to call to arrange another date.

You blocked their numbers as soon as they left.

As the conversation progressed, you could sense that the same idea was lurking in your and his mind. The more you spoke, the more it sounded like you were the perfect person for each other.

It didn't hurt that Noah was probably the most attractive man you knew. And he's caught himself having dirty thoughts about you more than once.

So, you left his house that day with an arrangement. When you needed someone to satisfy your needs, you would give each other a call.

Turns out, it wasn't exactly a call, but a spur of the moment thing.

Jolly had called you over to help him out with something on his guitar. You knew they were starting to brainstorm ideas for a new album, and being a guitar enthusiast yourself, you participated from time to time.

You ended up staying for the whole afternoon, laughing and playing some tunes, trying to create something that would even resemble a song.

By the time the clock approached 6 PM, everyone was starting to leave. You put your things together, but hanged by the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. You could hear Noah in the living room bidding everyone goodbye.

Noah entered the kitchen and saw you leaning against the counter, bringing the glass of water to your lips.

"Hmm", se hesitated a little bit, not really sure how to do this. He didn't want to be too straightforward and say things like "Hey, wanna fuck?", but he also couldn't lie and say he hasn't been thinking about you ever since that day. "I was thinking if maybe you'd wanna go up to my room?", he asked instead.

You thought it was adorable how nervous he was about this. A little smiled graced your lips.

"Yeah, sure", you agreed, setting the empty cup down. "Lead the way"

You followed after him as he opened the door to his room. You noticed the place was clean and tidy, and you remembered him saying he was a bit of a clean freak. You stood there, in the middle of his room and watched as he closed the door behind him and turned to face you.

The atmosphere turned a little awkward, and you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. In the years you've known him, things have never felt like this. But the knowledge that you were here so you both could have sex undoubtedly shifted things.

"You can kiss me, you know?", you broke the silence, tilting your head to the side, appraising his reaction. He took a couple of steps closer.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm nervous", he laughed a little and you smiled with him.

'It's ok", you reassured.

He looked at you with the eyes that always held your complete attention anytime they were on you, and you felt his hand take yours, prompting you to get closer to him, until you were standing toe to toe. Slowly, his other hand went up your arm, slightly brushing over your shoulder and finally rested on the back of your neck.

He was soft as he brought his lips forward to rest on top of yours, the kiss tentative at first, but as soon as you gripped the sides of his shirt, it became more urgent.

You took a few steps back and he went with you, lips never separating, until you fell backwards on the bed, and he climbed on top of you.

That night, you found out that Noah was the most attentive partner you've ever been with. He took his time getting to know your body and the things you liked, and he never seemed to be in a hurry to finish soon.

You found yourself blushing everytime you let out a particularly loud moan and he asked "Feels good, angel?", and you couldn't find the words to answer that yes, it does feel really good.

Noah, on the other hand, was trying to cope with the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair, and the weight of your body on top of his as you rode him until the two of you reached your highs. He observed as you threw your head back, and he wanted to litter your neck and chest with hickeys, but thought that he might take it too far if he did as he wanted.

He got himself dressed along with you and followed you down the stairs, watching you gather your things to leave. He opened the door for you and bid you goodbye and observed as you got in your car to leave.

He stood there for a few seconds after you had already left, thinking about how much he wanted to call you tomorrow and do this all over again.

2:

The second time Noah slept with you was the first time you had his dick down your throat.

It was in a random bathroom, in a party he didn't care about, in a house he didn't even know who it belonged to. But his friends invited him, and he decided to go.

Right now, as he felt your soft and velvety mouth wrapped around his shaft, he was sure it was the best decision he's ever made in his entire life.

"Fuck, that feels so fucking good", he groaned, throwing his head back and hitting it against the wall with a light thud. One of his hands was resting on the back of your head, but not really pushing, leaving it up to you how much of him you wanted to take.

Taking him out of your mouth, he watched as a string of saliva connected his tip to your plush lips, and he almost let himself go right then and there.

He arched his hips forward at the feeling of your delicate hand stroking him up and down.

"Wanna cum in my mouth?", you asked, with an absolute sinful look on your face, as you looked up at him from your position kneeling on the floor. He wanted to take a mental picture of how you looked in this moment.

"Yeah, baby. You gonna swallow everything?", he took advantage of your half open mouth and slipped a digit inside, your warm mouth wrapping around it and sucking his thumb as you hummed in response to his question.

Your hand worked along with your mouth to bring him to the edge, and he could feel himself falling faster and faster as the seconds ticked by.

It was when you took him slightly deeper and he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat that he knew he would cum very soon.

"Keep going, I'm gonna cum", his voice was tight and you looked up to see the veins on his neck straining, a pretty blush covering his chest and neck. Your hands ran up his abdomen, nails scrathing his skin and you felt his muscles go taut underneath your palms. Seconds later he spilled himself down your throat in warm and quick spurts.

"Fucking look at you", he grabbed you by the chin. "Such a good girl, taking all of my cum", he spread a little drop you let escape all over your lips.

You smiled at him. He was absolutely fucked.

3:

The next time Noah slept with you, things got a little dirty.

He had you on his lap, on his couch, two knuckles deep inside your pussy, as you shook on top of him.

"I fucking love your fingers inside of me", you told him, eyes closed and hips shifting a little to get him to go faster.

"That right, baby?", he answered, lips finding your neck and sucking little kisses, feeling the faint taste of your sweat that lingered on your heated skin. "Just getting this pretty cunt ready for my cock", he said, picking up the pace of his fingers, the squelching sound of your wetness making his dick strain against the confines of his sweatpants.

You noticed the lustful look on his face, and your hands moved on their on accord, as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down enough to take his dick out, and start stroking him up and down. He would tell you to be patient and wait, but he couldn't deny a handjob from you even if he wanted to.

"Fuuuck", he let out a low growl at the feeling. "That's not fucking fair, baby"

"Why not?", you had a fake innocent look on your face, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Wanted you to make a mess on my fingers before slipping inside you", he tried to be as clear as possible, but your hands were making it difficult for him to concentrate.

"Yeah?", you leaned closer to him, lips ghosting over his ear. "How about I cum on your fingers and then all over your cock?", you said, and looked to the side to get his reaction.

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl", he smiled and captured your lips on his.

After a few more pumps of his long fingers, you could feel the knot in your stomach wanting to unravel. Noah could tell, since your walls started to clench around him. The feeling of your warmth and wetness engulfing his fingers were enough to make him spill his release all over his stomach, covering your hand in his cum.

You weren't far behind him, the warm and fuzzy feeling spreading all over your insides, as you shook above him, ultimately gushing all over his fingers and legs. His fingers kept their rhythm until you were too sensitive to take it anymore.

Your head rested over his chest, not caring about the sticky mess between you.

"Fuck, I didn't know you could do that", he observed, admiration all over his voice.

"I didn't know I could do that either", you answered, honestly.

You couldn't see it, but he had a stupid grin on his face. He was the first guy to make you squirt.

4:

The next time Noah slept with you, it was on your bed.

"How do you want it, baby?", he asked you, not giving you much time to recover after he just made you cum on his mouth.

You didn't utter a word, instead, you got on your hands and knees in front of him, lifting your ass up in the air.

Usually, Noah liked to look at your face when he fucked you, but the thought of having you from behind made his head dizzy. Taking your plush ass in his hands, he kneaded the flesh before delivering a harsh slap to your ass cheek, making you jump slightly and whimper in the mattress below you.

"Gonna slip it in, ok?", he muttered above you, leaning down a little so you could hear his words clearly. He always got your reassurance before he started to fuck you, and that turned you on even more.

The feeling of his dick slipping inside of you little by little always made your eyes roll to the back of your head, and mouth hang open in pleasure. There was nothing like that first push.

Once he was shethed inside of you, you wiggled your ass a little just to tease him a little bit. And it worked, as it always does.

"Don't fucking do that", he hissed through his teeth, gripping your flesh harder. You tried to hide your smile from him, but failed.

Every time Noah slipped inside of you, he had to steel himself as to not cum within the first two pumps. He didn't know how it happened, but you had him in a chokehold, and no sex has ever felt like this.

He closed his eyes and looked up, trying to concentrate as he started to move back and forth. Soon, your moans filled the room, and your hands gripped the sheets crumpled beneath you.

Noah grabbed one of your hands and brought them to rest on your back, slipping his fingers in yours and intertwining them. But, soon, the contact wasn't enough for him anymore. His skin felt cold and he needed to feel the blazing heat of you on him.

"C'mere", he muttered, leaning down and hooking his arm on your neck and pulled you up on a kneeling position on the bed, back resting against his chest.

His hand roamed up and took a handful of your breast. You could feel his hot breath on your neck, and the feeling of him slipping in and out multiplied by tenfold.

The feeling of your quickened pulse under his palm, as Noah placed his hand over your neck, made all the filter between his brain and mouth disappear.

"No one feels as good as you do, baby", he whispered in your ear. "Love having you all pliant and fucked out like this"

You whimpered his name, because you too, loved having him pounding you into oblivion.

Your hands reached back to grasp his hair, tugging like your life depended on it. "Make me cum", you told him, looking back to lock your eyes with his.

"You wanna cum?", he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "Then tell me who this pussy belongs to, baby", he inquired and gripped your neck harder.

"It belongs to you", you whispered, with no hesitation.

"Say my name", he inquired again.

Your head was spinning, and you were going to cum from his words alone.

"It belongs to you, Noah", you said, and his hands detached from your neck, and started to rub circles on your clit.

Your breath hitched and your eyes closed shut as you came with a cry of his name, shaking and relying on him keep you up, because your body felt like mush all of a sudden.

+1:

Noah replayed the last time in his head over and over again. He felt like he said too much, but then he remembered you never commented on it, and he didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Since then, he's been hesitant to call you, to invite you over or ask if the could come over to your place. And he could tell you noticed it.

His texts have been shorter and fewer than usual, and you had to double text him sometimes to get a response from him. He felt bad, but he didn't know how to approach the feelings blooming in his chest. And he also didn't want to lose what you had.

The thing is, he started to feel like what you had wasn't enough anymore.

By the end of the first week of him being weird with you, you decided to show up at his house to talk to him. You knew Noah, and you knew that if you never approached the subject, he was never gonna talk about it.

Besides, you felt silly for saying what you said the last time you were together. It was clearly only some dirty talk to get you going, but the words falling from his lips felt so true at the time, that you couldn't help but agree with them.

And at the end of the day, they were true. Because you haven't thought about fucking someone else ever since you started this agreement. You didn't even want to.

You pondered over what you were going to say to him as you knocked on his door. You knew he was home, because his car was in the driveway.

He opened the door and greeted you with a hesitant 'hello".

"I think we need to talk", you told him, cutting right to the chase.

Noah felt like a million needles were piercing his heart. He had fucked up. He had fucked up and now you were standing on his doorstep, ready to end it all.

He nooded and stepped aside to let you in. You didn't sit on the couch, you were too anxious to even try and stay still.

You waited until he was right in front of you to start talking.

"Do you wanna end this?", you blurted out, watching as his eyes widened a bit at your inquiry. "Because if you want to, it's totally ok. I just don't want us to get weird with each other, you know? We can still be friends even if you don't want to...", he had to stop your word vomit.

"I don't wanna end this", he stated, quieting the flurry of words coming from your mouth.

"Then why have you been so distant?", you wondered. And watched him go silent for a moment. "Is it something I did? Is it what I said last time?"

"Fuck, no", he turned to look at you. "You did nothing wrong. It was me who shouldn't have said anything to begin with"

"So, you didn't mean it?", you asked, voice quiet this time, as if afraid of his answer. "You didn't mean it when you asked me if I belonged to you?"

"I didn't mean to put you in a uncomfortable situation"

"I meant it", you voiced. "I meant it when I said I belonged to you"

You watched as his expression changed to one of slight shock, and silence fell over the two of you like a weighted blanked.

"Noah, say something, please?", you inquired.

A little laugh fell from his lips, head shaking in incredulity.

"I thought I had fucked up, you know?", he looked at you. "I thought you'd definetely get scared and run away. And here you are, telling me you meant when you said you belonged to me"

"I haven't thought about anyone else ever since we started this", you confessed, and he took a few steps closer to you, taking your face in his hands.

"You've been plaguing my thoughts ever since that first time in my bedroom, baby", he stroked you cheeks lightly with his thumb. "I don't think I want to be with anyone else, and that scared the shit out of me"

"That's good. Because I don't want to be with anyone else either", you mumbled into his lips, smiling and feeling him smiled aling with you.

Maybe you failed at this friends with benefits thing, and maybe you'd have to figure out where to go from here. But the thought of having each other as you navigated this road of newfound feelings, made you feel like you could have everything with him if you wanted.

And Noah was sure he would give you everything if you asked him to.

Tag list: @concreteangel92 @foliosgirl @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @stardustsirenmelody @concretejunglefm @fadingangelwisp @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @babygirlchuuya @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @lacy1986 @romanreigns-supreme @xmads-omensx @missduffsblog @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc @badomensgoodomens @floatingkiwi @collective-heartbreak @dontwantthemoney @dream-machine-love @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @amelia-acero @montgomery-929496 @stardustsirenmelody @triedbimsoblu333 @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @noyaisasimp @w0manof-flesh44 @geminigirlfromfinland @zozaline @deardelirium @turn-your-life-into-folklore @dominuslunae @shelbyrlxoxo @super-btstrash-posts @shayzillaaaa @wordskeeper @enemiestolovershoe @haehihello @anameunmusical @blade-dressed-in-red @jilliemiw86 @vinyardmauro @ohheykayyyxo @chey-h

Tumblr is not letting me tag some blogs, I don't know why. Sorry :(

[thewertsearch]

@krixwell asked: Jack might not know from the start what the Quest Bed is, or the mechanics of God Tiers, but the last time he killed a kid on one, Skaia made a crazy light show and then, at most a few hours later, he encountered the same kid alive and well (until Jack fixed that). Then he found another kid who'd just hopped off one, and killed him – no light show this time, but once again he ran into the same damn kid later, alive and well (until Jack fixed that). So even not knowing the mechanics, he has reason to see a correlation between the beds and resurrection, and it's the best hope he has. @ipunchvampires asked: Jack tucked Jade into bed just like Bec used to. @dissonancies asked: Jack may or may not know about quest beds- whether it's because he's a game construct or a first guardian, he definitely knew more than he let on. But Bec knows how to take care of his girl. Once again, Jade has spontaneously "fallen asleep" outside…and like always (p 982-3) her guardian safely tucks her into bed :') Anonymous asked: As for why Jack put Jade on the quest bed when none of the exiles seem to fully understand what the purpose is, I would like to remind you of a couple of things. In earlier pages, Jade suddenly falls asleep and what does her best friend and good dog do? Bring her to her bed of course! Her bed… with four posts with flashing orbs……… How often do you think Beq put her to bed like that? A whole childhood of dog and girl, where the girl randomly collapses in sleep often enough that all her internet friends know about it…….. I imagine… it became quite the familiar routine… almost reflexive… just the sort of thing a dog who loves their owner does when given the power to do so. And I believe the Jade's actual bed is mia, so what's the next best option of something that looks similar?

You can't fucking do this to me!

[motsimages]

I love this in Spanish too, there are lots of idioms, sayings and proverbs related to the textile work as well.

Very often you hear that someone is hilando fino, to mean that they are connecting ideas with care and detail (particularly for puns or other witty comments). Very rarely does someone think that this "hilar" is related to fabric work in any way (spin).

And don't you know that unos cardan la lana, y otros tienen la fama? Some do the hard work but it's the famous people who market it and are the face of it who show for it. Or as I recently learnt in a traditional wool work workshop (so many wo-): because people would congratulate the spinner on her very good thread, ignoring the work the carder had put so that it was easy to spin.

Even things related to sewing get lost in the metaphor and the everyday use when someone is not only fast to speak but also able to really connect their ideas to the way they express them, the way they paln everything they do so that you know the work behind it. No da puntada sin hilo, we say to show we noticed.

I guess we could stay here all day, pegando la hebra, and connecting one topic to another the same way you connect a thread that broke.

One of my favorite things about learning about traditional textiles is the little ghosts they left in the language. Of course the ghosts are there, now that I know to look for them. Once upon a time, half the population spent a majority of their day making textiles. Spinning, at the very least, has been a part of humanity since the Neanderthals. That kind of knowledge doesn't just disappear.

A heckle was a device with sharp metal spikes, and people drag flax through the spikes to separate out the fibers from the chaff. When you say someone heckled a performer, you think you are being literal but you're speaking in an ancient metaphor.

When my grandpa says "spinning yarns" to mean telling stories, he knows that one's not quite literal, but its vividness is lost to him. There is no image in his mind of rhythm, muscle memory, and the subtle twist that aligns clouds of fibers into a single, strong cord.

When a fanfic writer describes someone carding their fingers through someone's hair, that's the most discordant in my mind. Carding is rough, and quick, and sometimes messy (my wool is full of debris, even after lots of washing). The teeth of my cards are densely packed and scratchy. But maybe that's my error, not the writer's. Before cards were invented, wool was combed with wide-toothed combs, and sometimes, in point of fact, with fingers. The verb "to card" (from Middle English) may actually be older than the tools I use, archaic as they are. And I say may, because I can't find a definitive history. People forget, even when the language remembers.

[voxslays]

MON CHÉRI

Alastor x Overlord Wife!Reader (from this request) In which, reader is bored at an overlord meeting and decides to tease her husband instead of paying attention.

Overlord meetings—a large meeting usually organized by Carmine (and sometimes Zestial) that brought the overlords of pride together to discuss their souls and the exterminations. And man did you hate them. Being overlords, both you and your husband Alastor had to attend the mandatory meetings yearly, so naturally when you discovered that there was another one taking place today, you couldn’t help but mentally groan.

Alastor, ever the dutiful husband, had informed you of the upcoming Overlord meeting earlier that morning. He had mentioned it with a hint of sarcastic sigh underneath his eternal smile, knowing full well how much you despised those gatherings. He seemed almost happy about your suffering.

“These meetings are the same every year.” You groan, putting your face in the palm of your hands. “Can’t we just miss one?” Alastor chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he wraps a clawed hand around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m afraid not, dearest. Besides, it’s not all terrible, my dear.” You roll your eyes and let out a small ‘hmph.’ as you cross your arms angrily. How were they not that bad? They were usually three to four hours of listening to Carmilla rant about how many souls you all collectively owned and the dangers of the exterminations. Things you already knew!

And all Alastor would do was sit there and watch you suffer…but not this time. You were already plotting your revenge as you put on your finest accessories and sunday best. If he was going to force you to sit through the horribly boring meeting—then you might as well force him to sit through your relentless teasing, right?

Alastor leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and amused smirk playing on his lips as he fixes his black bowtie. "Planning on outshining everyone at the meeting, are we, my doe?" You smirk. “I guess you could say that.” You say in a sing-songy tone. Alastor chuckles, his gaze never leaving yours as he straightens his tie and approaches you. He reaches out and gently turns your chin towards him, before offering his arm. "Shall we get going, my dear?" You gently wrap your arm around his, pushing your hair behind your ear. “We shall.”

And thats how you got here, sitting in your chair at the meeting, bored to death. You’re not the only one either. The Vees are all on their phones, Rosie is eating a meat sandwich with meat that looks suspiciously like a human hand, and Zestial is simply staring into space—Yet, Carmilla keeps going. Your husband has his usual smile stuck to his face—with a hint of a snide smirk, one that almost reminds you of the grinch. A devilish smirk that only made you want to enact your schemes sooner. You wanted to ruin him.

You slowly place your hand on an unsuspecting Alastor’s thigh, lightly rubbing it. Alastor keeps his eyes on Carmilla, but you can feel him lean into your touch slightly, as his eyes gently flicker to yours for what seems like less than a second. You can feel how the overlord tries to keep his composure, but his leg muscles tense under your touch. A slight smirk plays at his lips as he leans forward slightly to continue listening to Carmilla's monotone voice.

You slowly drag your hands further up his thigh, closer to his clothed cock. Alastor visibly tenses this time, his breaths becoming more and more shallow—and almost desperate? Alastor throat quietly, maintaining his usual smiling demeanor as his hands grip the armrests of the crimson office chair tighter. "Darling…" The radio demon whispers, his voice carrying a warning undertone. "We're…" He swallows hard. "In a meeting." His voice comes out raspier than intended under all the radio-static as he smacks your hand away.

You roll your eyes softly, continuing to watch Carmilla as your hands continue their upwards assault, finally arriving at his clothed erection. You gently rub as the demon next to you grips his cane in one hand, and the arm rest in another—his grasp is so tight his knuckles turn white. Alastor's face flushes a light shade of red, his breathing becoming more and more ragged with each passing second. He bites his lip hard to stifle a grunt—his eyes flickering to you with a mix of desire and a clear 'stop this' message. "Fuck.."

A bead of sweat slowly trickles down from his forehead, as Carmilla stops her speech about the souls you and the others may lose during the next extermination, and turns to Alastor, a small scowl on her face. “Is something wrong, Alastor?” She asks in a low tone, her voice just as raspy as usual. Alastor quickly composes himself, his face returning to its usual calm smiling expression as he meets Carmilla's gaze. "Nothing at all, Carmilla. Just a slight…discomfort." He says, his voice strained as he tries to hide the effect your subtle touches have on him.

Carmilla gives a small hum of acknowledgement in response. “Are you sure you’re fine, darling?” You ask, feigning a sweet tone of sympathy. Being the doting wife you are, how could to bare to see your darling husband suffer in the silence of a meeting? If only they knew. Alastor nods curtly, his eyes darting back to Carmine for a split second before he turns his attention back to you.

"I'm fine, ma chérie. Truly." He says, his voice a little sharper than intended as he tries to maintain his composure. “All right then.” You say, as sweet as pie but mentally smirking. Carmilla looks between you two, her gaze lingering on Alastor for a moment before she nods and continues speaking about the plans for the upcoming year. "As I was saying, we expect a significant increase in soul activity during the new year, so we'll need to adjust our patrols accordingly…” Carmilla drifts off.

For the remainder of the meeting, you tease Alastor with your fingers. At one point, you even give him a handjob. The demon had to put his hand over his mouth to silence his grunts of pleasure. But finally, after three and a half hours of a nonstop lecture from Carmilla, you were free to leave. The other overlords started filing out of the room—the Vees practically running—and you followed, your husband close behind.

Once outside, Alastor practically drags you to the nearest empty room—using his shadows to fight against your resistance—closing the door behind you. He spins you around to face the wall, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses his clothed erection against your core. "That was very naughty, darling. Teasing me under the table?." The overlord lets out a small chuckle, his wide smile never leaving his face. “I don’t know what you mean.” You feign innocence.

“Dressed like this?” Alastor gently rips your shirt off your body. "Liar." He hisses, his fingers digging into your hips possessively. He can still feel the phantom sensation of your fingers under the table, slowly driving him mad during Carmilla's lecture. "You think you can get away with torturing me like that, my precious doe?" You let out a small gasp. “Alastor-”

"Answer the question." He growls through his smile, his breath hot against your neck as he leans against your back, caging you in with his arms. "Was it on purpose?” The red demons eyes glare into yours, as the surrounding radio static grows louder. “Your outfit, the subtle leg movements, the tiny touches on my thigh under the table?" Your breathing grows shallow in anticipation. “Yes.” You breathe out. His breath catches in his throat at your admission, the red-hot need in his eyes growing more intense. "And why, may I ask, would you do something so…" His voice drops to a husky whisper. "So…" He grinds his hips against yours. "…provocative?"

“I don’t know.” You gasp. A deep chuckle escapes Alastor's lips, tinged with both amusement and arousal. "You don't know?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "Or perhaps you simply enjoy the thrill of teasing your husband?" You tense up, mentally deciding staying silent was the best course of action as you let out a small wanton moan. Alastor’s large gloved hands slowly slide up your sides, his touch gentle yet firm. “I will make sure you get back your teasing tenfold, dearest.” He mockingly coos, as he nips at your neck. “Hold on tight, ma chérie d'amour.” You were in for a long night—that’s for sure.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Maybe Simon Riley and famous reader?? Like the reader is a singer and dedicates a song to him and we get to see a sort of soft and proud side of him?

I had to actually go through my playlist to find the right vibe for this. Such a sweet request ���

Song on repeat while I wrote this is "Just the two of us" by Bill Withers and Grover Washington, Jr. Cover version by The Macarons Project. Listen to the gorgeous cover here

Pairing: Simon x famous!reader

pov: Simon's

Title: To my Love.

"Okay, Manchester, it's almost time for me to close out for the night!" Her voice rings out above the cheering of the stadium. People are chanting encore and begging for another song. She laughs into the microphone, "I love you all, but I most certainly promised someone that I would try and wrap up on time."

There's a shout from somewhere closer to the stage for just one more song, please. She relents with a soft laugh, "Fine, but I'm thinking a new song for the city that has my heart."

There's more cheering and backstage, Simon tilts his head to the side because he understands the double meaning. His girl is always saying in interviews and on hot mics that her heart is in Manchester, England. She's not even from here, and when people ask about her own hometown, her smiles turn shy and sweet. She never says what or who she means, choosing to keep their relationship private. It's for her safety and his peace at mind.

Sure, he doesn't do the award shows, the public facing red carpets, and he blends in as one of her body guards; but her inner circle knows who he is and sees the two of them behind closed doors. He's a little shocked at the mention of a new song. He knows every lyric that gets written down in the little song book he got for her.

She looks off stage towards him and bless the smile she gives him. It makes his stomach flip and flop, and he knows that he is smiling like a love struck fool. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and the surgical mask on his face shifts, a clear indication that he is smiling back. This woman makes him feel things he hasn't in years. She kisses his scars, holds his hand with a grin, and every time she says his name, it's like hearing an angel whisper to him. He's not a praying man, does not believe in God or karma, he's lived too bloody a life for those thoughts, so finding someone to love him was never a possibility.

Yet here she is getting ready to debut a new song that she just told him was written with only him in mind. No other hands have touched this song, and it was written for him, and she's singing it as a public declaration of her love for him. The sentiment makes him ache in the best ways, turns him into puddy.

"What is that girl doing?" Her manager hisses, "did we approve of this?" She's fussing with a stage hand demanding to know what track is about to be played. The DJ cues up the music. It's a sweet swell of music. Light on the ears, there's no producer tag, no booming base, or 808s. The flip from high energy to sweet melodies instantly calms the crowd to silence.

Yeah, this wasn't planned. It's in the same vein as their relationship, unplanned and sweet. Simon didn't mean to fall in love with her. It sorta just happened. What was supposed to be a favor for a friend of John's, just the team providing extra security for some starlet, turned into a miracle.

She sings about him, sweetly. A true love song. She sings about loving someone at their best. She sings about loving the ugliest parts of someone. She belts her heart out on the bridge, words about finding true love and knowing that it won't always be easy. Her voice cracks, warbling on lines about broken people and loving them and slowly putting them together again, pretty gold holding the pieces together.

By the time the song is over, the longest and shortest four minutes in his life. And to think, someone wrote about how they loved loving him for four minutes, him of all people, he's got tears in his eyes. His body is moving before he can process it. There are people calling for him to stay backstage. He thinks he hears one of his teammates, and he doesn't know or care. All Simon Riley can see is his girl, his song bird, the mask is off and he's pulling her into a kiss.

There's distant cheering he is sure of that. The audience probably thinks that this is staged. It's not. Her manager will probably try to spin some silly narrative to the press and all of her fans. Whoever is on lights earns their paycheck because every light except the spotlight on them goes out.

And then slowly even that light fades, too, to the sound of thunderous applause.

ngl...I'm crying. Thank you anon.

[your-nanas-house]

Cillian murphy x fem!reader

The reader's aunt is going to a honeymoon with her husband for two weeks, so she leaves her 10 months old baby with her niece and her boyfriend cillian

And cillian is INLOVE with that baby, and he keeps saying he wishes he could give you one until he tries to

Fluff and smut plss🥹

Sure thing!!! Sorry it took me so long 😭 very unique idea btw. 🙇🏼‍♀️

Baby fever

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X girlfriend/fiancè!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut (Cillian cums too fast), mention of pregnancy and baby fever, babysitting, both off age, fluff

◇ Summary: You and Cillian babysit your baby cousin and your amazing boyfriend gets baby fever.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing... sorry about that, I'm still trying to "get my mind back in the writing".

"I really wish for us to have one too" the so unexpected and sudden sentence left Cillian's lips a quiet evening.

You've been busy taking care of your cousin, since your so kind aunt left you to babysit him during her honeymoon. A baby, a 10 months and some weeks old baby, dropped in your care at your door with some begging and thanking.

It has been just some weeks since your not-paid job began, and ignoring the first days of struggling, you and your boyfriend, Cillian, took the new routine strangely well. Adapting well to the new schedules and cries and needs that a baby could have.

A few days and you both were smitten; that baby had you really wrapped around his little, chubby finger.... and he didn't even know it yet. Everything about babysitting made you wish for it to never end, even the random tantrums or the diaper moments.

You had been sitting on the sofa, your baby cousin asleep in his crib in the other room as you cuddled with Cillian. The TV off. You had been just enjoying your small moment of silence and intimacy when that sentence slipped from his lips:

"I really wish for us to have one too" your mind froze, slowly taking in every since word your boyfriend just said.

"I don't wanna rush things or put any pressure on you, love... but we've been together since years now and this weeks with your baby cousin made me realize how ready I am to take... any further steps in our relationship" he continued after a moment of silence, you could tell he was pondering about it carefully by the way his gaze remained focused on a spot and his eyebrows slightly raised

"Plus I might have what they call baby fever" he added in a weaker tone to lighten up the mood... and it worked. You didn't let him add anything else not wanting him to think you weren't on his same page

"I think so too... I mean we are about to get married and I just love you so much. Plus we don't know if it will work right away" you commented in a shy but earger voice, glancing at him as if it was your first time having sex... asking for it.

"Yeah?" Cillian asked after your answer, his light blue eyes finally looking at you with hope and love, making your heart skip a beat

"Yeah" you replied in a softer tone, taking his face in your hands to bring him in a needy kiss.

Soft noises of approval kept living your mouth as his soft lips trailed a path down your neck to your chest; his warm tongue draw shapes on your skin while his slender fingers in quick motions, finally, removed the layers of clothes.

"I love you" your eyes met as you caressed Cillian's pale and flushed skin up to his messy hair as soon as your kiss broke. Your breaths became one and your chests moved together, brushing against each other.

His cock was already painfully hard, resting against his stomach and leaking precum; it just needed a couple of strokes, and it got fully ready. His other hand worked your clit, his index finger explored your cunt, adding in no time another finger

"Yes, yes!" You whimpered out, your body shaking in pure pleasure.

The intimacy of the moment made it feel even more intense, forcing you to hold back moans, limiting them to heavy breaths and soft praises.

It felt so right and so good. You hoped it would never end.

Your mouth connected again, sharing the same passion; your hearts nearly beating in sync. You just needed one more thing.... his cock finally inside of you, stretching you out like only Cillian could do and bring you to feel— not exactly what you expected.

As your mind focused and dreamed about the imminent pleasure, it didn't register the warm feeling of his cum shooting in. It was just when his cock started to soften that you finally realized

"I'm so sorry, love. I was bit too excited—" Cillian voice interrupted the silence, his pale face flushed in embarrassment and bit of shame

".... I make it up to you" he added quickly while already trying to move down your body to finish you off with his tongue, but without succeeding since your legs had his hips caged in a iron grip

"Don't you dare move, Cilly. Stay inside... We can always try tomorrow and you can make it up then"

[gallusrostromegalus]

Now for the Gotei-13:

Ukitake has spent his entire life Sick. He has no memory of Not Being Sick. He is sick, all the time, unignorably so. Its exhausting, it's infuriating, it's painful and worst of all it's Boring. The Boredom is heinous, being flat on his back, sometimes too weak to even read, prisoner of his own flesh.

He is, at least, not alone.

Mimihagi has been with Jushiro for every breath as long as he can remember, and will be so until he dies. The Godling is just as trapped by Jushiro's flesh as he is. It's a bizarre solace, to have someone to grieve with, but Jushiro counts himself lucky for it.

He has also become not so much gone numb to the horrors of the flesh so much as blown right past that and found a strange sort of beauty and joy in the extremes of what the body can tolerate. He and Unohana are both regularly banhammered from the groupchat for posting unspoilered images of "LOOK WHAT THE FUCK NEW MEDICAL BULLSHIT I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT!!".

-

Rukia is almost never sick, which is really good for everyone's sanity, but ESPECIALLY Byakuya, who gets trauma flashbacks to Hisana's slow and awful death every time Rukia so much as sneezes. On the rare occasions she does finally catch a cold or has an injury serious enough to force her to take time off, Byakuya is practically her shadow, with soup and cookies appearing at her bedside before she can even articulate the thought of what she wants. He reads to her, and often sleeps in the same room so he can hear her breathe.

Rukia was originally a person who wanted to be left alone to convalesce. Renji made her a rabbit plushie out of old flour bags and stuffed with heather when they were kids to act as a sort of token guardian when she'd kick him out of her bunk for hovering. These days he still hovers, but at a distance- he texts her memes and shop talk all day to keep track of her, and pester his Boss, who is in the same room.

Rukia has learned to deal with Byakuya's overzealous care because she recognizes it as an act of profound love and affection and she doesn't actually get to spend much time with him. Sometimes she'll pretend to be just a little more under the weather than she actually is so she can have another night of his attention, and then 'miraculously' look much better in the morning, so he stops worrying about the illness 'lingering'.

-

Mayuri vacilates wildly between praising the humble virus for it's ability to wreak havoc on such complex organisms as humans, what with out reactive immune systems and telling his colleagues that illness is a "Skill Issue".

-

Nemu is probably the single most disease-resistant organism in the afterlife, both by Mayuri's extreme efforts in her creation, and the immense amount of work she puts into sanitizing the 12th division and improving her own form, two things of which Mayuri is entirely oblivious.

She wants to eradicate at least ONE serious pathogen before she presents her work to him. Not because she is particularly worried about him disassembling her- that's on the level of a hangnail for her. The reason is that she and Mayuri share a streak of Pride A Mile Wide and she wants to be able to flex on him.

It's how they show love.

-

Zaraki:

(Continued under the Cut)

As is befitting of a Kenpachi, Zaraki is incredibly resistant to both receiving injuries and spectacularly good at handling the consequences of injury when he does receive it. Most humans can lose about 20% of their blood without dying. Zaraki can push 30% and still be issuing effective commands to his men or attempting to continue the battle. 1000 years wandering the Rukongai have also given him a cast-iron stomach, not to mention the liver and kidneys of a God- At least, that's what Unohana said about them the first time she had a rummage through his abdominal cavity. He's been insufferably smug about it since.

Being of such rude health and one of the very few shinigami with O-Negative blood and the only shinigami with No Native Zanpakuto Spirit puts Zaraki in an unusual position- he is a Truly Universal blood Donor. Blood typing in souls works the same as in living humans, but Shinigami have to also contend with matching the elemental types of the zanpakuto spirits in a reverse Rock-Paper-Scisors-Lizard-Spock arrangement. Since he has no zanpakuto spirit, Zaraki can donate to anybody, and Unohana retains his services as a Living Blood Bag. He enjoys the work- he enjoys any attention from Unohana, and gets a kick out of how fast people improve with a pint of him in them.

As robust as he is, Zaraki does have one serious medical weakness: Since he almost never gets *sick* the extremely rare times a virus or other pathogen makes it past his initial immune system, it knocks him on his ass. Even a common headcold makes him feel like he's dying because that's genuinely the most ill he's ever felt. Naturally, Ikkaku and Yumichika give him endless shit about this, but they also don't leave him alone. Sure, maybe it's just a cold that got lucky this time, but one time he really did have Yellow Fever.

-

Yachiru endeared herself immensely to Unohana when the first met by being intensely curious about the 4th division hospital and one thing lead to another and within an hour of their meeting Unohana may have sort of let the girl help screw a patient's collarbone back together.

-

Ikkaku has just the WORST fucking hayfever in the middle of July and he has NO IDEA what is causing it!!

(Ikkaku is allergic to Bird Dander and is married to a man who has a Peacock for a Soul Being and is besties with a man who was raised by eagles and some of the features of both avians have magically transposed onto Yumichika and Zaraki respectively. Like the mid-summer molt.)

-

Yumichika's mothers were what passed for surgeons in the East Upper 70's and raised him to be persnickety as hell about sanitary conditions, but specifically, to always take care of his hands- if your hands go, you're fucked. Consequently, not only has Yumichika been walking around with a perfect manicure since he was seven, one of his primary was to show affection is to take care of the hands of those he cares about. Ikkaku almost always has at least one red nail to match his eyeshadow, Yachiru wears an assortment of colors but always at least one pink and Zaraki can't stand the texture of polish but he lets Yumichika see to it that they're clean and in good working order.

This actually caused Yamamoto to lose a rather large sum of money once.

There was a bet established about a week after Zaraki's arrival as to his age. It's actually something of a mystery-He has the haggard face of an old man or a young one with a rough life, emotional maturity that vacillates between "childlike lack of impulse control and emotional intensity" and "Sagacious shrewdness regarding the better and worse aspects of human nature", talks like he knew ancient historical figures personally but is known to wind people up with a shaggy dog story for fun, and still has all his teeth.

Yamamoto THOUGHT he had an inside track because he got a good look at Zaraki during the ONE kendo lesson he managed to give the bastard before the C46 got their panties in a twist and banned Zaraki from learning it. To Yamamoto's (very experienced) eye, Zaraki had the hands of a very young man- they were in terrific shape for the rough living and sheer number of fights Zaraki apparently got in to, and Yamamoto mistakenly chalked it up to The Resilience Of Youth rather than The Efforts Of Friends, and bet heavily.

He was apoplectic when he found out he had low balled Zaraki's age by about 1200 years.

-

Rangiku was actually on the fast-track for the 12th division when she got a look at Mayuri and decided she'd be safer in another dimension, and signed on with the 10th Division's Special Deployment Squad instead. Her special interest is cosmetics- the science of dermatology, color theory as applied to fashion, how to deceive with shape and shade, the history and sociopolitical causes behind fashion and makeup trends etc.

She also makes all her own soap, shampoo, conditioner, sunscreen, makeup, perfume, moisturizers, serums, lubricants and other little bottles of liquid illusion in her quarters, much to Hitsugaya's despair. Unohana has made no secret of the fact that if Rangiku had the ability to do Kaido, she would have not had the option of enlisting in any division besides the 4th. Rangiku takes as the compliment it is, and hands Retsu the 13-in-1 cream Rangiku developed specifically for her. Sometimes shades of Unohana's former life show through and the violently utilitarian approach the chief medic takes to cosmetic appearances. It's fine- Rangiku is actually really proud of the chemical exfoliant in there that ALSO removes blood, bile and other bodily fluids without harming the skin.

Now if only she could figure out something to deal with Hitsugaya's growing Teenage Boy Stank.

-

Hitsugaya does NOT have teenager stank, thank you! He is having more than a bit of a rough go with Puberty though, because most long-lived souls have normal-length childhoods and maybe slightly elongated adolescences, then prolonged adulthoods. He caught the slowdown EARLY, and now that he appears to be aging one year for every ten lived, Toshiro is facing down the prospect of mentally and anatomically being in middle school for upwards of thirty years.

"Tough titty Icicle jr." Yachiru grumbled when he attempted to commiserate with her as a fellow youth. "I'm not going to be an adult until 2403!"

-

Tousen has the opposite problem from Zaraki. Even relatively minor injuries (for a shinigami) can lay him up for ages- he's a profuse bleeder and extremely slow to heal*. How much of his sensitivity to perceived aggression is a reaction to trauma from the repeated attacks on his person by bigoted peasants in his youth versus a very proportionate response to the danger he faces from injury is debatable, but the latter is definitely a contributing factor.

*constantly being on anti-inflammatory meds to manage the pain of the 66 curse nails driven into his spine will do that.

On the other hand, Tousen can be Alarmingly Ill and still functioning "Normally". Tousen's previous Lieutenant warned Shuuhei to check the captain's temperature if he seems like he's in an unusually good mood. Last time he thought Tousen was recovering from his ever-present cloud of depression, he actually had a 103 degree fever. Tousen is a responsible individual who isolates when he feels sick, but his tolerance for discomfort and suffering is so high he thought the case of Whooping Cough he has was "a little bronchitis". Shuuhei has gotten very good at eyeballing his boss, sensing something is off and throwing the captain over his shoulder to haul him off to the 4th to find out what's wrong with him this time.

Compounding this issue is that Tousen's adopted mother was a famous Murder Mystery Author, and he her primary researcher and editor, so the man possesses a vast and disturbing knowledge of various poisons, weapons, environmental conditions, allergic reactions, venomous animals, industrial accidents and outright bizarre ways to die. Last time he was seriously ill, he decided to sit down at his typewriter and document his descent into Dengue Hemorrhagic Fever rather than seek medical attention, out of a desire to finally fill out one of the missing sections in his Encylopedia Of Death*. The seriousness of Unohana's lecture about how stupid he'd been was slightly tempered by her admiration of how thorough and detailed his documentation was and how it would be a helpful diagnostic tool-

*Also the desire to escape The Curse, even if it involved shuffling off his mortal coil.

-

Shuuhei has undiagnosed Obsessive-compulsive Disorder. Not because Soul Society doesn't know what OCD is- they're not THAT behind on psychiatry- but because Shuuhei thinks that being unable to stop thinking about something, especially an irrational catastrophe, is perfectly normal so he never talks about it. Also he'd rather die than admit he's having any kind of problem, at all, ever, to the vast annoyance of everyone around him.

-

Kensei is truly Red-Green colorblind. He has both Protanomaly (reduced sensitivity to red light) and Deuteranomaly (reduced sensitivity to green light), and sees the world mostly in shades of gray, yellow and blue. He's sometimes a little bummed about it, but mostly he's glad that the Shinigami Uniform is black and white, and not the totally-indistinguishable-to-him reds, purples, greens, oranges or browns that everyone else loves.

He is VERY annoyed to find out Komamura can see more colors than him though.

-

Mashiro is completely deaf in her right ear from a bad fever as an infant. She compensates for it with the distinctive curious-head-cocking-like-a-spaniel she does, and by making sure she's always standing on Kensei's left side because the man talks at a volume meant for stadiums so she might as well only expose the already-fucked ear.

-

As much as Shunsui drinks, he's almost never drunk. People with extremely high reiatsu also have ridiculous appetites because they constantly need to be throwing fuel on the fire, so to speak. Shunsui's favorite brand of Sake is a high-quality but far from the best out there, but it IS the one that gives him the most dissolved-carbohydrates-per-fluid-ounce-while-also-not-tasting-like-gasoline. The constant sipping from the bottle is him keeping his blood sugar up- the alcohol is digested and metabolized into sugars so fast it never gets to make him drunk.

-

Nanao is also in high demand as a Shinigami blood donor because she technically doesn't have a native Zanpakuto spirit, but can't be a true bloodbag like Zaraki because her actual blood type is A-, which she gets VERY strong feelings of inadequacy about.

-

Komamura has perfectly normal human color vision. Actually slightly better- he has excellent color acuity as well. He also has a humanlike liver that tolerates chocolate and alcohol, though he sometimes lies about the latter because he can't stand the taste or being around really drunk people.

Unohana has known he's a Wolfman since the first day he came to Seireitei at Yamamoto's invitation and the captain-general introduced them so he'd have a doctor who'd keep his secret, and she's taken extensive notes on him, because he's the only Wilderkin she's ever seen up close. She hypothesized once that Komamura is significantly more man than wolf- it's just that all the Wolf parts are externalized. Anatomically speaking, he's really quite Human on the inside.

Komamura still isn't quite sure how he feels about that.

-

Iba staunchy Does Not Believe In The Occult mostly because his mother is such a freak about horoscopes and also a huge bitch, but he DOES believe in Zaraki's Garbage Hell Tarot deck specifically because it predicted his lethal allergy to bananas right before bananas became available in Soul Society. They look and smell exactly like something he'd love, but at Ikkaku's urging, Iba got tested and found out that if he'd gone and eaten a banana he probably would be dead before anybody could find and administer an epi-pen.

-

Byakuya knows perfectly well what caused his Wife's Illness and Death was congenital and triggered by very specific circumstances that are easily avoidable now, but he still has a panic response any time one of the people he loves gets sick and he must fuss over them in his overgenerous, emotionally flat manner.

He will literally die before letting anyone know that HE is sick though. Emphasis on the Literally. He's been hospitalized for untreated influenza several times. Unohana got Renji's name in the seated officer Secret Santa one year and gifted him a long-range laser temperature gauge so Renji could check him from a distance. Renji genuinely treasures the device.

-

Renji used to be one of those idiots that showed up to work sick because of a misplaced sense of duty. Then he was visibly ill in Byakuya's line of sight and got the worst dressing-down of his career over contigation. He still has nightmares of Byakuya glowering down at him and growling about how there are Pregnant Women here Abarai, what if you give one of them Rubella? I expect responsibility from my officers!

Renji HAS learned this means he can take sick days whenever he wants and Byakuya will always grant them No Questions Asked, but he is certain that if he ever abuses the privilege, Byakuya and worse, RUKIA will find out and he'd rather be skinned alive than face being lectured by both of them.

-

Aizen is a stickler for food safety rules and regulations. It's a bit agitating to have him suddenly loom over you because you almost put a dirty teaspoon back in the cannister without washing it properly, but the division has one of the lowest illness rates AND more than enough clean tea spoons.

-

Momo has a bizarrely high alcohol tolerance for someone of her shape, size and background. Rangiku has lost drinking contests to her before. She is the SWA's designated driver, and not just because she's the only shinigami with a valid driver's license.

She also doesn't get hangovers, which Rangiku thinks is straight-up unfair.

-

Shinji has exquisite dental hygiene because he is DEATHLY AFRAID of Dentists. Like, can't even watch movies with dentists in them. Don't even MENTION Little Shop of Horrors around him.

-

Hiyori had pica as a kid and intermittently gets it as an adult. She absolutely terrified Hikifune the first time the captain stepped out into the courtyard and saw her beloved lieutenant just. Eating a handful of dirt. Both Hikifune and Urahara have tried and failed to figure out what fucking vitamin she's missing that causes the occasional dirt craving, with Urahara going so far as to beg Unohana for help.

Unohana stared at the man for a moment, before casually leaning back in her office chair to stick her head out of the door and squint at Hiyori in the hall. "Do you ever get sick after eating dirt?"

"NO!" Hyori growled, exasperated. "I USUALLY FEEL BETTER!"

"Kid's fine." The chief medic shrugged. "Sometimes you gotta have that crunch."

That was the last time Urahara asked her for assistance.

-

Unohana:

Some people learn about WHY she got into medicine- to be able to heal herself and her opponents and continue battling indefinitely and assume she has an extremely high tolerance for pain.

This is Incorrect.

Zaraki is an adrenaline junkie and pain fetishist. Pain hurts for him, it just Hurts So Good-

Unohana is an honest-to-God, Biological Masochist. Pain doesn't hurt for her. It genuinely pleases her. Lacerations light up her pleasure centers and getting stabbed genuinely feels as good as getting the good dick.

The closest thing to pain she feels is "boredom". Unohana has severe ADHD and like Zaraki, her chosen dopamine replacement is Adrenaline. For her, any stagnancy isn't just boring- her brain stops making even trace amounts of the neurochemicals it needs to function, and rapidly descends into a black despair and can even become injured from stimulation deprivation.

When her lung became permanently compromised and she turned to medicine, it was a struggle and a half to study until she discovered the thrill of surgery- something done At Speed back then because it was also done Without Anesthesia. She quickly found that surgery fulfilled her desire for combat, and with little wonder- she now faces the greatest opponent of all- one who she might win battles with but never truly defeat, one who never backs down or gives up, one who will someday defeat her utterly and completely-

Death itself.

To fight The Great Inevitable, knowing the battle will continue until her personal oblivion?

What Bliss.

-

Isane Kotetsu has the single worst case of frequent Sleep Paralysis and Night Terrors Unohana has seen in her entire career. They first met when teenage Isane turned up in the emergency room against the express wishes of her family, because she'd been awake for eighty hours straight at that point and either the demon haunting her every time she tried to sleep needed to go, or she would.

Consequently, Isane is the first lieutenant of the 4th to actually live in the lieutenant's quarters. Unohana puts a lot of value on her privacy and personal space, and had 'agreements' with her previous lieutenants that they should live with their families, or elsewhere in the division. Isane is genuinely pleasant company though, and only ever demands Unohana's attention when the captain realizes her lieutenant's quiet snoring has stopped and she need to go poke the girl and send the hatman packing.

-

Gin Regularly pretended to be sick in order to get time off for his machinations. Never realized that all his little "I Am Definitely A Human Person" deceptions fell flat, but the fact he Apparently got the flu two or three times a year was the most convincingly Mortal thing he ever did.

-

Kira's body ought to be in much, much worse shape than it's in given the amount of drinking, caffeine pills, poor nutrition and other abuse he puts his organs through, but for all the other misfortune he suffers, Kira is inexplicably blessed with incredible toxin resistance and durable organs. He was in the fourth when he started as a shinigami before Gin poached him, and Unohana has quietly held a grudge about no longer being able to study him like a bug.

-

Rose has never actually been sick, or even hungover in his entire life. He too has exquisite toxin resistance, but he also regularly eats fruits and vegetables, hydrates and gets nine hours of sleep per night*, so he's basically going to live forever.

*...unless he hyperfixates in a new investigation or musical composition that he forgets that he has a body and doesn't eat or sleep or parties so hard he goes on a bender where nobody hears from him for two months, like that one time Shinji had to fly to Paris and hunt his ass down, whereupon he found rose half dead in a brothel because he'd had so much sex he'd forgotten to eat for two weeks.

**Unohana also wishes to study him like a bug.

-

Soi Fon is currently at the top of the leaderboard for "most cases of you-knew-better food poisoning", because between the combat training and weird family shit, she never actually learned how to cook, let alone food safety, and regularly eats extremely expired leftovers. She also has a bad habit of not sleeping when she's agitated about something which has caused Omaeda to acquire and learn how to use a tranquilizer dart gun.

-

Omaeda has hunted his boss down with a dart gun to get her to rest before. She was mad, but also slightly to impressed with his stealth, cunning and aim to punish him too severely. Just shoot her in the arm next time, got it? NOT the ass!

-

Yamamoto's hearing is immaculate despite his age, and he can eavesdrop on conversations in the first division from three floors away if he wants. He is developing cataracts and Myopia he's in denial about though.

-

Sasakibe has gone to some fairly extreme lengths to conceal his age- partially out of vanity, but mostly because having a detail like that be totally unknowable drives snoops and spies INSANE and this amuses him. The Shinigami Women's Association runs much of the gambling in seireitei, and holds exclusive rights to gamble on certain long-term bets, including "at what age will any captain actually fucking die?" Where the mystery of Sasakibe's current age adds much speculation and higher wagers.

(the truth is that he is only fourteen and a half years older than Unohana and twenty-one years older than Zaraki. How old THEY are is an even bigger mystery though.

Since you're at the doctor's, medical headcanons. Who's afraid of needles, who's the biggest baby when sick, who insists that everyone just let them die, etc. etc.

Short answer before long one bc I have to drive but:

They're all deep, deep into the morass of the horrors and miracles of The Flesh.

---

The Karakura kids are weird because Ichigo's dad is an emergency trauma doctor and Ichigo's family loves above the clinic. Any time his friends come over there's a round of "so what wild shit happened in the ER since last time?"

(continued under the cut)

Uryuu's dad is also a surgeon, and the thing that gets him and Ichigo back on speaking terms again is more or less second-hand shop talk.

Orihime has been obsessed with emergency medicine since her brother died. She wanted to know what she should have done, and can do so it won't happen again.

Keigo has been carrying a first aid kit in his backpack since he became friends with Ichigo and Tatsuki in middle school. He's got an exceptional talent for patching someone up enough to get through English class without the teacher noticing the injuries after a lunchtime brawl.

Tatsuki started peeking over Orihime's shoulder at her notes on joint trauma and developed a talent for targeting her kicks and punches to deal maximum damage in karate tournaments.

Mizurio knows a suspicious amount about neurology and how pain works because his "uncles" keep telling him about techniques used by enforcers to extract payment or information.

Chad got heavily into Oxacan folk medicine because once he stopped getting in fights, he needed something else to occupy him, and his abuela decided to teach him how to cook. There is not a huge difference between good food and good medicine. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of chemoreactive plants and chemistry you can do on a stove.

Every single one of the Karakura kids has had something medical happen to them or a loved one, and every single one is now peering into the mysteries of the flesh about it.

---

The shinigami are worse.

Shinigami broadly have better physical resistance, esp because they're reaping the injury stabilizing benefits Senjumaru wove into the Shinigami Shushako.

But they live in a feudal society that has only SOME of the benefits of modern medicine, and the few instances of disease-mitigating infrastructure are far between. It's COMMON for the souls of the rukongai and Seireitei alike to have a sibling who died in infancy or a parent who died in child birth or of an infection.

Societally, they are still in the very earliest phases of the war against pestilence and it gives one a very warped perspective on all things medical. Especially if you happen to be in the immediate sphere of influence of soul society's greatest warrior against death:

Retsu Unohana.

I cannot overstate the impact this woman has had, and you don't do things like "decimate the nationwide infant mortality rate" or "pioneer organ transplant surgery" without being a bit mad, and she has lived so long and done so much that the madness has clarified into a single extremely dense point of determination and she warps the reality of those around her. Woe and Blessings alike to those within her event horizon.

---

The Arrancar are even worse.

Hollow resilience to injury allows them to body much, much worse injuries than the humans and it has an impact on etiquette. Biting off a hand because someone won't stop bothering you is a normal way to establish a boundary. Limb loss and regrowth is common, and disembowelment about as serious as a bad cold.

The food situation is even more dire. Smaller hollows, ones that used to be plants or animals or human-hollows who have a modicum of self control are weak, but lucky. They can survive off the ambient reiatsu in the atmosphere of Hueco Mundo, or the naturally cleaving fragments of soul that fall off the living.

Everyone else needs to hunt. And the more powerful a hollow becomes, the more it needs to consume, and the richer it's prey must be. The only really rich souls are other sapient beings. Any hollow at the level of Shrieker or Grand Fisher or higher is trapped in a hellish metabolic cycle of cannibalism, and the only way out is through.

The primary killer of hollows is other hollows. They know what they're doing. They're looking their fellow beings in the eye, the ones who understand them best, and deciding that their own life is worth their friend's. For all their ability to handle the slings and arrows of physical trauma, hollows are worse at handling the emotional consequences of this cycle. Monstrous Egotism is a best case scenario for them.

In practice, this means that while it's perfectly acceptable to bite someone's hand off for annoying you, it would be rude of you to spit it back at them. At least eat it!

I realize this last bit is not, strictly speaking, medical, but you can see how the ability to survive being turned into an anatomical Venus and having to live on a diet of the flesh of others would completely recontextualize how hollows think about Illness.

---

I will do the fun individual headcanons when I get home, but this is a good broader framework to consider for now.

[cinnablu3]

RECKLESS - ALL I WANTED WAS YOU

Masterlist

Ch 18, i lied about 20 chapters we might have 21.

After Utahime leaves, you find yourself alone, your heart racing. The time for Choso's arrival is drawing near. "I have to be honest with him, no matter the consequences," you remind yourself. Just then, there's a knock on the door.

Immediately opened the door and pulled Choso inside. "Easy, I know I said I couldn’t be spotted, but you were quick with it, doll," he teased.

"Cho." He immediately embraces you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you. He presses his lips against your forehead.

"Glad to know you miss me."

"I'm sorry about--" "Don't even finish that sentence. It wasn't your fault." He said, hiding his face inside your neck. "Give me a minute, I miss you, Doll."

It was a peaceful silence as he pulled away slowly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even in jail for that long, but even then." He laughed. "I did miss you."

You couldn't hold back your smile, feeling the ache in your heart, knowing he wouldn't have the same feelings for what you were going to tell him.

"Choso take a seat please I need to get something off my ch--" "That you agreed to the kiss?" He interrupts, you can feel your heart drop. "He told me." He gives you a bitter smile.

"I'm not angry, I shouldn't be upset since we aren't even together," he says as he takes a seat on your couch. "Though, you wouldn't believe how frustrated I was when we had to share a cop car and a cell." He crosses his arms.

"He complains a lot, it really did makes me wonder what you saw in him."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his statement.

"I'm serious, I can't find anything attractive that could have caught your attention."

"That's a little harsh even for you."

"I told him, got in a fight in the cell." He grins, "I was supposed to get out much earlier but someone got offended and took another beating."

"I'm trying my best to be serious with you, I can't with you telling me all this information." You sighs holding back a smile.

He pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear. "Just know I forgive you, even though I was hurt about it, I just want to know." He turns serious. "Did you feel sparks?"

"I didn't, that's when I realized he wasn't someone I wanted my name to be attached to."

"Good, because being attached to mine is way better. Sounds better as well."

"I want to be with you, Choso. I do," You paused. "I want to talk to Satoru, can I? Just to clear everything and end things completely."

"That's a terrible idea, Name. He doesn't need an explanation. You don't have to acknowledge him anymore."

"Choso.."

"I'm serious. Write a letter if you have to.. that sounds terrible I'm sorry.." He puts his hands on his face embarrassed of his words. "I just don't want to feel like my feelings are being played with."

"You're valid for how you feel, I'll write a letter and that's it no more." Giving him a serious look.

"Promise?"

"Promise Cho."

"That's a promise. Just don't give me false hope that's all I ask." He intertwines his pinkies with yours.

"Since you kissed him, it's only fair that I finally do." He leans in and gently cuffs your face before pressing his lips against yours.

You couldn't hold back a smile.

"Glad to know you're out of jail, in good piece" Shoko teases pointing at Satoru eye as he sticks his tongue out.

"Don't remind me. That emo said I whine too much."

"He's not wrong."

"Shoko, don't you think it's rude to bully a friend?" Suguru speaks up.

"Thank you Sugu-"

"Especially when he has two ugly blackeyes by his nemesis." He smirks.

"My manager is going to kill me." He throws himself on the couch pouting. "Maybe don't respond so quickly especially when you can't fight Satoru," Shoko replied.

"I can fight, I was just drunk." He groans, "Speaking of drunk does Name know you're here?" Shoko looks off to the side and is silent.

"Utahime and her are currently not speaking to her after the whole party." Suguru chimed in putting a hand on her shoulder.

"That sounds like Utahime doing, not Name. She is not someone that often cuts people off."

"Look, can we not talk about this guys? I cannot have another reason why I need a cigarette again." She rubs her head.

"Why don't you storm for Utahime and ask to take you back?" Satoru looks up at her while she raises a brow.

"What?"

"For once, I'm desperate. I want my friends back, tell me. You guys can't be my only friends."

"So.. I was thinking.."

Taglist is now closed and full 💞 @miiiturix @superdonkeypatroleggs @inthedarkshadows000 @kumori-suwan @chilichopsticks @prized-jules 1ndee @lov3vivian @yuuuumii @chiiinglebells @sakurayashiro @ghostlyfanenemy @cisseadven @totallygyomeiswife bemebiu @chckn-pi @for-hearthand-home @sh0ot1ngst4r @muthic @lukaerith-morningstar meowforluv @uniquenicefangirl @4rmins @corvid007 @beautifulwitchcandy @iluv-ace @tartartagliaboo @genxnarumi lafrone @coffee-addicted-demigod @cupidsblonde depressedemosantaclaus @drownedbytears @s777athv @linaaeatsfamilies @lun4rchive @moonlitwitchdaisy @kooksbunnnn @shoma-nom @reagan707 @kaged-kitty b0nez9 btsinthesoop @shokosbunny @sleepykittyenergy @sad-darksoul @ghostswhoretbh @raquel12 @missthatgirl @explosivelywuisa @bunviixo @rifran @therealanxiety @harryzcherry

[staryscorner]

My savior

Didn't reread this so it might have some errors ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Paring: The Salesman x Female Reader

It was a tiring day after working one of your many jobs but after your current shift you would have to run out immediately to catch the last train. You ran and yelled at someone to not let the doors close but it was too late the train had left and there you were alone at the platform with another man sitting on a bench. He called you over.

“Would you like to play a game?” He said with a cheeky smirk

“I'm sorry but I have to get to work or else I'll probably get fired.” You said in a panicked tone 

“But what if you could with 100,000 Won just by beating me at ddakji” still smiling at you

You thought about it for a while…that was way more than what you would make in a night and you then agreed to play his game. 

“I'll pay you for every time that you beat me but if I win you would have to pay me the same amount”

You were not expecting him to say that.

“Um sir i'm sorry but I don't have that kind of money” you said in a sheepish tone.

“Well there is another way you could pay me” He said grinning from ear to ear

“H-how?” you said trying to keep your composure 

“I'll show you once we played the first round”

After playing the first round and losing miserably he looked at you and not even hesitating he lifted his hand and slapped you…

You stood there putting your hand where he had slapped you feeling the sting and almost wanting to cry but you still decided to play. You needed that money… you needed to have your child back. 

After what felt like an eternity you had finally won you could feel like tears were going to fall from your eyes. He opened his briefcase and you saw that it was stacked with cash. You really wanted to continue but you knew you had to get home so you could get at least some sleep before your next job in the morning. You thanked the many for the opportunity and told him you had to leave. He looked at you a bit surprised. No one had quit the game this early, but he decided to just let you leave.

As you walked off you started to feel weak and then soon collapsed when it happened. He might be cruel but he was not a monster. He was not going to leave a women lying on the ground in the middle of the night especially you who he found quite interesting for leaving so early into the game 

.

.

.

You woke up confused, finding yourself under a warm blanket and comfy bed. You looked around and saw that it was a fully furnished room which looked luxurious. then you hear footsteps coming closer to where you were and there he was the man from last night 

“I see that your awake” he said holding a cup of coffee and having that same smirk from last night

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to intrude” You said trying to quickly get up.

He pushed you on the bed and tucked you right back in handing you the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Drink this and tell me why you decided to play.” He said sitting near the edge of the bed.

He already knew about your situation and how much you needed that money, but he still wanted to hear you explain it

You hesitated a bit to tell him since you had only met last night, but there was something about him that made you trust him.

“Well about a year ago things were great. I was married and had a beautiful daughter. It was a perfect life, but until one day it wasn't. My ex husband began to hit me…” you paused letting out a big sigh trying to not let your emotions take over. “I tried my best to make sure he never got to my daughter . I wanted to protect her but I couldn't.” “Then one day I came home and there was no one inside”. 

As tears started to stream down your cheeks he came over with tissues and tried to clean your tears away.

“I looked all over for my daughter in that house but I never found her. The police were no help and that's when I started to hire private investigators to look for her but none have ever gotten a lead. That's why I work from morning to night just so that I could pay them to look for her” You were trying to keep yourself together. Then He hugged you and held you close. You could hear his calm heartbeats which helped you.

You both stayed like that until you felt better.

“Hey how about this I will take care of all your debt and help you look for your daughter and get her back”. You sat there in shock after hearing what came out of his mouth.

“But with one condition… you go out with me” He said giving you a sly smile

He saw how fragile you are and didn't want you to go through anything like that again.

You wanted to say yes right away but could you really trust him you did like him and he was willing to help you find your daughter

“alright” you said with a hint of blush on your face

He stepped out of the room and began to make some phone calls you didn't know to who but you just laid on the bed until he got back. When he said that he found the address that your daughter and possibly your ex husband might be at.

“WHAT YOU FOUND HER JUST LIKE THAT!” You began to cry tears of happiness

“We can go to the address right now if you want?”

“Yes please I want to see my baby girl” 

As soon as you finished your sentence he hurried you to a car that was already waiting for you both outside he opened the door for you to enter and after you went in he followed right behind you. From being in a rich area of seoul to a rundown and shady neighborhood you made it to an apartment building that was falling apart when you both entered it smelled rotten you reached a room that slightly opened as you both went in there was not many things inside the room but what caught your attention was a small closet that was right next to you so you decide to open it and what you saw was your worst nightmare

.

.

.

 it was your daughter with just a small blanket covering her and she had lost so much weight. You dropped down and picked up her small fragile body. Then came footspes from the other room. It was your monster husband.

“What do you think your doing here” He started yelling at you 

After saying those words he began to run towards you and holding a knife in but before he could get to you the salesman pushed him on the ground 

“Dear if you don't mind, could you grab your daughter and carry her outside and don't come back in here ok? I'll be out in a few minute” 

Not wanting to know what he would be doing next you grabbed your daughter and brought her to the car that was still there. He came out a bit after with a few red stains on his shirt you didn't even want to ask he then got in and asked the driver to take them to the nearest hospital as the car drove your daughter began to flutter her eyes open.

“Mommy” she asked in a weak voice

“Yes baby I'm right here” You said holding her close to your chest 

He just held your hand not knowing what to do 

Once you made it to the hospital the doctors took her from your arms and brought her to a room and they made you wait outside the room until they said you could come in. He was there the whole time with you making sure you were ok. Bringing you water and just comforting you. You never expected that meeting him at the station that day would bring you here and you felt love when you were with him not wanting to spend any time apart from him.

After a few hour the doctors finally came out and told you that she was in bad condition but nothing to much to worry her all you would need to do is give her the medicine that he proscribed and everything would be fine after he left you ran into the room where she was and then you saw her with the biggest smile you went over to hug her and all the stress left your body and you began to cry heavily not ever wanting to let her go the salesman came over to her bed and introduced himself as her new daddy and she loved the idea of having him as he new dad. (you did blush a bit when he said that) but these 3 days have been the most tiring but you could definitely see him had your husband and the love of your life even if he has a few screws loose thats what makes you love him even more.

A/n: OK im literally hyperfixating on this man so I just had to do something with him so this is kinda like a rant. I feel like it started off strong but I did spiral a bit on what to do with this but hope you all enjoy it!!! Pls suggest some ideas :P

[syndrossi]

Restoration AU: Robb I

Previous part, Arya I, here.

x~x~x

Robb was not allowed out riding, or to join his father’s knights and men-at-arms in search of the ruffians who had kidnapped his young half-brothers and dragged them to Winterfell for ransom or worse, which meant he had sought the yard instead. Even that was a mistake. He could not thrash the targets the way he desired to, not with all the curious eyes upon him.

Show anger, and all would know that there was strife between him and his lord father, that the dishonor had caught their family unaware. And while it would be satisfying to express his fury at the depths of his father’s disloyalty, it would draw attention to his mother as well, inviting cruel whispers.

Robb lowered his sword, stepping back from the target. He exchanged it for his bow, and although the rhythm—draw, aim, release—stilled his thoughts for a short time, they wandered instead to Bran’s excitement when he had found Robb and Jon in the yard that afternoon, touting his discovery.

It seemed a lifetime ago, rather than mere hours. A part of him had known from the moment he laid eyes upon the boys, the dark-haired twin so alike Jon that it had felt like staring at his brother from across the span of five years. Jon’s own shock had been little comfort.

The rumors had not reached his mother before Robb did, after his father’s curt dismissal, and he had been faced with an impossible choice: let her learn of her husband’s betrayal through the whispers of her ladies or break the news himself as gently as he could.

I do not know for certain, he had told her, still fostering the faintest hope that there might be another explanation, but she had paled nonetheless, her attempt at masking her heartbreak to spare him all the more painful.

She loves him. She has always loved him. Robb had thought the same true of his father, and he did not know how much it would hurt to learn otherwise. That Jon’s mother had not been the tryst of a man who thought he might die in battle, but a bed he eagerly sought out the next time fate took him south for war.

Robb lowered his bow, the arrows of his quiver spent, and stared at the distant target, flickering in the torchlight. For once, he was glad that Theon was nowhere to be seen. His friend would have nothing but crude japes, and Robb was in no mood for such.

He desired answers.

His feet took him past Sansa’s room, where he had gently guided her after supper and promised her, with a kiss to the hair, that things would seem less bleak in the morning. Then past his father’s solar, where he could see the glow of light escaping from the crack beneath the door.

Hiding away, like a coward. It was not how he would ever have described his father before today, but there was no other way of putting it. If he is not begging Mother’s forgiveness, then he should be comforting the terrified children whose dishonorable birth turned them into pawns.

Robb paused outside Jon’s door, then rapped lightly with his knuckles. A few moments passed before the door opened, and it was not Jon who he found himself staring at, but rather his smaller counterpart. Willam, Robb reminded himself.

“Would you like to come in?” Willam asked, gazing at him with such raw longing that Robb found himself torn between tenderness and fresh fury.

Did Father even look in upon them since hiding them away in Jon’s chamber? A glance past him revealed no Jon. His twin sat on the bed, his gaze at Robb more wary, and telltale plates from the kitchen were stacked on the small table in the corner of the room. Their supper, taken alone to spare the family further shame today, when it was their father who should be shouldering its brunt.

His little half-brothers were innocent in this. Had they even known of their origins? They had the bearing of highborn children, but none of Jon’s quiet acceptance of his lesser standing.

“Yes,” Robb said, realizing he had not answered. He stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him, and found that the other child had risen to his feet, though he maintained his distance. “I—” Has Father even told them of their siblings? “I am your half-brother, Robb.”

The boys reintroduced themselves, Willam tripping over his own name. Robb wondered whether their mother had knowingly named another son after her first. Or was Jon’s name of their father’s choosing?

Now that he was in the room with them, Robb did not know what to say. His gaze kept straying to Raymar, who was as unalike his trueborn siblings as Ghost was to his littermates, as though their birth had split them between each parent.

That is what she looked like, then. The woman he traded his honor for. Pale hair, silver as the moon’s glow through the window, his eyes an unnatural violet. They both shared Jon’s slighter build, which must have come from her as well.

A foreign woman, with that kind of coloring. A courtesan, perhaps. That was the fancy name they gave their whores across the Narrow Sea, and bravos fought for the honor of bedding them. But where had his father stumbled across her?

He had been silent for too long, Robb realized. He did not know what to say to them. “Where is Jon?”

“He went to take Ghost back to the kennels.”

“Oh.” He felt almost numb, staring into the face of a strange child who looked like his brother, and another who looked like betrayal. “How are you faring? Did your captors harm you?”

There were no obvious bruises or cuts upon them, but then, his father had said that their captors had dosed them with dreamwine. The twins assured him, however, that they had been unharmed—unbound, even.

“He said that if either of us caused trouble, he would hurt the other.” It was the first Raymar had spoken since introducing himself, his expression haunted. Willam too had tensed, watching his twin with obvious upset.

I should not have asked, Robb thought, chagrined. Not when they have yet to sleep. These are questions for morning.

“Father’s men will find him,” he said, offering his best reassuring smile, but it did little to ease their distress. In fact, both seemed on the verge of tears now, and he stood helplessly. If it were either Bran or Arya, I would go to them. Comfort them.

But the circumstances of their relation held him back. They did not know him, he reminded himself. It was not the same as Father abandoning them with Jon, all of them tied fully by blood.

Jon’s return caught them all off guard, his brother quiet as his direwolf pup as he slipped back into the room. He halted in place as he marked Robb’s presence, and they stared at one another for what felt like an age. There was no hiding from Jon, or Jon from him.

What hurt was the wariness, as though his brother was expecting Robb to lash out at him, when he had always strived to intervene whenever Jon happened to draw his mother’s ire. And what cut even deeper was the way his brother’s eyes narrowed as they fell upon the twins.

Jon rushed over to them, then turned back to Robb. “What did you say to them?”

“Nothing,” he replied, unclenching his fists. “We greeted one another, and I assured them that whoever kidnapped them would face justice.”

“Is that why you came at this hour?”

“I came to see how you and our new brothers were faring,” Robb said defensively, but he knew it to be a lie when he spoke it, and by the tightening of his mouth, Jon did as well. “What did Father tell you?”

“About my dead mother?” Raymar flinched, and his twin’s hand grabbed for his, but Jon did not seem to have noticed, his gaze locked on Robb. “What business is it of yours?”

Jon did not often snap at him, and he felt himself bristle in response. “It is my mother who was dishonored by their actions.”

His brother regarded him coldly. “She was beautiful, born to a noble house of Lys, and Father swore beneath the weirwood tree that he loved her.”

The words hit like a physical blow. Robb’s fists clenched again, denial rising in his throat, hot and ugly. “Whatever love he had was for her cunt, or he would not have left every time he stuck a bastard in her belly.”

His vision whitened as Jon slammed him into the door, knocking his head back against it. He could taste blood in his mouth from where his teeth had cut into cheek, and it did not matter that he had deliberately provoked his brother, all he could feel was a betrayal that quickly soured to anger.

“I do not care how beautiful her face, but how rotten her heart,” he said, ignoring the glitter of his brother’s eyes as his grip tightened around the fistful of tunic he had grabbed. “She knew of his marriage and still enticed him into her bed. A woman can be highborn and yet a whore.”

Jon’s right hand drew back, and Robb could feel his brother quivering from the effort of refraining from punching him, so he stared back in challenge, inviting it without knowing why. Let him prove himself to be what all bastards are, said an ugly voice that sounded like his mother. But he also longed for a scrap, to throw his fury at someone if it could not be his father.

The castle itself rattled then, a rumble of what sounded like thunder resonating deep within his chest. But the night is clear, he thought in confusion. Jon took a step back from him, the tense moment broken, his expression equally confused.

He became aware then of one of the twins speaking in a foreign tongue. Valyrian, he assumed, gazing past Jon to find Willam speaking frantically as he held back his fiercely struggling brother, who was staring death at Robb even as tears streamed down his face.

It is their mother too. His anger abandoned him, taking its short-lived respite with it and leaving Robb with a fresh guilt atop the hurt that ached within him.

The castle rattled again, the thunder more distant this time. An apology danced along the tip of his tongue, but he could not force it out.

“Just go, Stark,” Jon said, releasing him. His jaw worked a moment, then he turned his back on Robb, steps quick as he closed the distance to the twins and wrapped his brothers both in a tight embrace. His true brothers.

More words caught in Robb’s mouth, some remorseful and others not. Misery rose in his throat, bitter like dandelion tea, and he swallowed it, feeling worse now, with more answers, than he had before foolishly deciding to come here.

Robb left, closing the door quietly behind him, and stood in the hall for a time, staring at the opposite wall. He could hear crying in the other room, soft and pitiable. Father’s doing, he told himself, but it rang hollow. A few minutes passed, Jon’s voice muffled but audible as he spoke to the twins, and Robb awaited another roll of thunder that never came.

Finally he left, mumbling something he could not recall to Cayn when the guardsman’s patrol crossed his path back to his bedchamber. His nerves danced with the need for action, and he desired nothing more than to court his father’s displeasure by slipping out to the stables. He could claim a horse and ride into the wolfswood—find the men in search of the twins’ kidnapper and join their efforts.

But his mother would need him, and Sansa too, so he stared at the ceiling instead and settled into a long, sleepless wait for dawn.

[gayofthefae]

"I should have explained myself because maybe then Eleven would have taken me with her, but - I don't know. I didn't know what to say."

That isn't what he said the first time.

"I should have said something. And maybe if I had said that thing, Eleven would want me there with her."

The sentiment of him being with her and knowing/ensuring she's safe is consistent. But he isn't actually repeating himself. There's no need for him to as a person and as a screenwriter, repetition should DEFINITELY be cut.

He's changing. He's brainstorming. He's starting to consider other angles of the "could have"s. The "what if"s.

He starts with "what if I'd just forced an 'I love you'". But I think he likely settles on what we can logically deduce for ourselves in that situation - "I made the right choice prioritizing with what I knew of the consequences at the time".So he changes. He changes.

He changes to "I should have explained myself".

"Explained myself" is NOT the same as "said that thing" and that is VITAL.

I should have just sucked it up and told her I loved her if it meant keeping her safe.

No, I did the best I could with the information I had

I should have told her the truth. Maybe she would have taken it better if I had just told her that I don't love her but it's my fault, not hers. Now she thinks it's hers and that I'm hiding it.

And, perfect timing, Will comes in with (in Mike's pov) "It makes sense why you didn't, though, don't beat yourself up. She was gonna get hurt either way and everything would have been a risk as to how much."

And Mike nods. And the next time we see him, he's saying

"Will she still even want me in her life if I can't give her the love she wants? All I can do now is to make sure she knows it isn't her fault, that's the selfless act I can do for her, but if I confess I don't love her, what other use am I to her? Will doing what's best for her by telling her it's not her fault, it's mine, instead of continuing to lie make me lose her?"

He says "explain". He starts with "maybe I should have changed the 'what'". Then he shifts to "maybe I should changed what she thought of the 'why'". Ironically, his question in the van once he's come to that conclusion is "how?".

The first pitch her makes is "maybe I should have told her I loved her" and Will says "don't worry, you'll have another chance", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

aversion.

But then he says "maybe I should have just explained the real reason behind my actions instead of denying them all together" and Will says "that's a scary thing to do. It's a hard decision. You're doing your best", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

understanding.

Honestly, being understood. And sometimes that's what you need to find understanding. He's been confused this whole time, that's been his whole thing, but he looks like he's starting to piece something together now - finally. Will put his own feelings into words for him to hear out loud so could finally get them and get them in a validated way.

Instinctively, he knew the first one was easier but wrong. He didn't want to lie to her. Both times Will said "if that's what you want to do, I believe in you", but only once did he agree. He knew it felt like the wrong choice the first time and you can see it. The second time was a new choice he was considering.

And you know what? While we're here. Telling her he loves her: aversion. Telling her the truth: understanding and drive. What happens next?

He expresses "what if when I tell her the truth, as I've decided is the right choice, she appreciates it but doesn't need me for anything else beyond that?" And Will says "she'll stay. You got this.", and he reacts with

Comfort. *

He didn't know what to do. Then he did, but he was scared to do it. Then he wasn't so scared anymore.

He's thrilled to see her and forgets for a second but - much like El with Will on roller rink day - is reminded by seeing Will that now that she's actually here, it's real. He's committed to his actions and they're impending.

But he's not so scared anymore. Bravery, though, doesn't mean no nerves. He's hesitant and not happy looking when he talks to her about it first. He tries to lighten the mood - "the whole world went to shit and everything" - and he's watching her reactions like a hawk. It feels like less of a risk now enough that he can do it, but not so little that he isn't scared. Either way though, it's worth the risk for her to know it isn't her.

He didn't know what to do. Now he does. He was scared, but he's not as much anymore. Not too much to do it. They're interrupted. Okay, oh well, he'll find another time.

And now to break your heart:

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, but Mike met that with aversion.

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, Mike met that with understanding and agreement.

Mike was scared, Will said he had no reason to be, Mike met that with comfort.

(I'm sorry) Mike was scared for El - unrelated - and looked to Will for comfort - as he had every other time - when he tapped him on the shoulder, Will said he should tell her he loves her, and he reacts with

anguish.

This was not Mike's plan.

This was not their plan, so he thought.

Mike's reaction tells us everything about what he knew and what he meant for what's to come. This was not what he meant. That was not what he was going to say. This was his plan.

And there's that part of you too that always wishes to go back to semi-ignorant bliss. Even if just panicked confusion. Because wasn't it nice: when telling her you loved her evoked this

And not this

Wasn't it nice when you knew...just a little less?

Wasn't it nice, in a way, when you couldn't see the happy ending so clearly?

Don't you sort of miss - when you couldn't taste it?

also fuck it for just for that list bit and the bridge of this song here's my illicit affairs edit linked because "you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else"

[wisteria-lodge]

About the gender in hp thing: I know JKR wrote the books wanting the patriarchy to have minimal impact on the world but even through a couple of the metas you wrote you can see that that’s not the case. In your character crying post there’s a clear implication that showing that kind of emotion is a weakness but also that it is not masculine. Equating strength with masculinity is foundational for cultures with strong patriarchies, and this idea infests every other aspect of their lives. Idk because of that and many other reasons I have a very hard time of writing the wizarding world as anything other than a patriarchy

This is a watsonian analysis vs doylist analysis issue.

I 100% do think that JKR went out of her way to really, really downplay the importance of gender in her worldbuilding - and this contributes a lot to the specific feel of the world. You could genderflip, idk. Neville. Snape. Draco. Hermione. McGonagall. and almost no plot elements or character dynamics would change. (Maybe James would bully Severus slightly differently? Idk. He honestly might not.)

Compare HP to something like His Dark Materials, another British fantasy series released at the same time, marketed to the same demographic... in which gender politics are REALLY important. Lyra conforming or not conforming to specific gender norms hugely impacts the way a lot of other characters treat her. So much of Mrs. Coulter's character has to do with how she's navigated the back ways and side avenues into power, because the patriarchy that runs *that* world is extremely explicit and plot relevant, and there's a lot she just can't do.

Now is JKR *good* at writing a gender-blind world? Not really no. So she's stripped out the importance of gender in a fairly surface way, while leaving evidence of the foundations intact. Everyone's a het couple, women take the husband's last name, Molly and Petunia are at home while their husbands work and there's no inverse of that situation, Fleur's father walks her down the aisle at her wedding, it's important that Hermione be able to tame her hair when she wants to, but for Harry it doesn't matter...

There is ALSO the narrative voice poking through and putting its own spin on everything. This is where we start getting judgment (for example) directed both at girls who are too feminine, and at girls who aren't feminine enough. Or sexual assault not really "sticking" if it's directed at boys. We don't have a character talking, in-universe, about how it's wrong for a woman not to want children. We just have a book where the only women who don't have kids (or take care of kids) are villains. Same thing with masculinity = strength = no crying. That's something the narrative framing / bias of the author brings to the table, but it's kept out of the mechanics of the magical world. I guess you could say Harry and Draco equate crying/fainting with weakness (but not explicitly anti-masculinity)... but then Lupin goes out of his way to separate 'fainting' from 'weakness' anyway.

Interestingly, gender is much more baked into the muggle worldbuilding. (Part of why I think leaving that aspect out of the wizarding world was a deliberate choice.) Smeltings is an all-boys school, so is St Brutus.' Dudley teases Harry about his "boyfriend" Cedric, Vernon sizes up Arthur and Mad-Eye by how masculine they are. At the beginning of Book 4, Dudley's diet is this very gendered conflict between Vernon and Petunia, where Vernon doesn't want a "little nancy boy for a son" - and that is one of the only truly gendered insults in the whole series. "Crybaby" almost counts... but the Slytherins tease Hermione for crying too, so idk. They tend to go for pretty gender-neutral insults, like "poor" "unimportant parents" "looks like a chipmunk" ... etc.

Like... I'm trying to imagine a scene were Lucius lays into Draco for not being masculine enough, and I can't. I think that in a canon-compliant fic, a scene like that would feel odd. The conflict would need to be framed more like a "you disgrace the name of Malfoy with your weakness" or "never tell anyone outside the family what you're thinking" or "your believe yourself to be more intelligent than you truly are." Not "you need to man up."

[gallusrostromegalus]

Side bit of AEIWAM Lore for funsies: Akon and Shuuhei were roommates for a long time and still close friends.

What happened was Akon got a work release from prison as a kid so that Urahara could use him in the 12th*, but when Mayuri tried to promote Akon to seated officer some years later, Yamamoto put his foot down and demanded Akon actually receive some formal training as a shinigami before he would be allowed to command other shinigami. So An adolescent Akon had to enroll in Genryusai Academy the same year that Shuuhei FINALLY passed his entrance exams, and the two were assigned roommates.

The introverted and socially unskilled Akon latched onto outgoing pretty boy who makes friends with everyone Shuuhei like a remora latching onto a speedboat. He frequently asked (and STILL asks) Shuuhei the most are-you-a-space-alien social questions and took notes re: the answers. Shuuhei never noticed anything odd about Akon because he's operating on golden retriever "well they're not kicking me so I guess we're BEST FRIENDS FOREVER" rules.

The undiagnosed dyslexic/ADHD/OCD and six other major aniety disorders in a bucket Shuuhei latched onto "called out and corrected the teacher on day one and then assumed control of chemistry class" nerd Akon like a remora latching onto a speedboat. Akon never did Shuuhei 's homework for him, but he did basically personally tutor Shuuhei by tism ranting 24/7, and proofreading his work. Akon never noticed anything odd about this, because ofc you share knowledge and correct people mid-conversation, what the fuck do you think science is FOR?

Both were promoted to Seated Officers immediately after graduation but they still lived together in a shared off-division apartment for several years until Shuuhei made lieutenant and Akon became president of R&D and they both had to move into thier divisions full time, but they're both Members of the Shinigami Men's Association, and co-presidents (and only members) of the Seireitei Rat Fancy association. Shuuhei has had pet rats ever since he was a poor kid in the Rukongai, and Akon since he was a little kid in prison, and it was one of the things they really bonded over when they were in the dorms together, much to thier RA's horror.

Shuuhei wants to breed the softest, cuddliest rats with the longest lifespans possible. His prize animal now is "Florence", a doe with a positively satin-smoot coat approaching her twelth birthday with no real signs of aging so far. Akon is trying to breed rats large enough for him to ride into battle and his prize animals are a pair of Bucks called Gilbert and Sullivan who are approaching 40lbs apiece. They both spoil thier rats rotten.

Another thing they have in common is a love of Mahjong. Shuuhei learned to play (and make money on it) from his grandmother. Akon was taught the same by the other inmates at the maggot's nest, and in each other, finally found worthy opponents. Of course, Mahjong is best played with four people, so each of them has been trying to train others to play with mixed success. Akon has had made good players out of Nemu and 9th seat Niko Kuna (Mashiro's younger sister) but both of them are just as likely to want to play "Operation, but with a real body" and are not reliable partners. Shuuhei taught Tousen how to play and he's an exceptionally canny player and reliable partner, but often struggles to remember what tiles have actually been laid down, since his glasses tend to jumble the characters when trying to read the tiles to him.

Upon her return to Soul Society, Mashiro Kuna suggests they combine their interests and breed rats capable of playing Majong and both of them think about it for just a little bit longer than is reasonable.

---

*AEIWAM Akon actually hates Urahara's guts: While it was Urahara's signature on the work release, it was *Mayuri* that pettitioned that the child Akon be released from the maggot's nest. Mayuri really only wanted Akon for his expertise in biomechanics, but also did do the badgering of Urahara to get him out. Akon hates Urahara because when Urahara was in the 2nd division, he arrested Akon and threw him into the maggot's nest as a small child, just because he was born part Yokai.

Akon once described the debt he feels to Mayuri as "Imagine if a raccoon saved your life. Now imagine if the raccoon was a meth kingpin that could kill you with telepathy. You'd owe it forever but also. It's a little complicated, you know?"

This comes to something of a head after the winter war when there is a question about who is actually going to run the 12th as Mayuri is Goop, Nemu is emotionally compromised about him being Goop, Hiyori is only sort of qualified, Akon is even less qualified, Hikifune is in the royal realm, the 12th has completely locked down and gone on strike rather than let Urahara put one toe in the door, and there aren't that many captain-class people who also know... anything about scientific research or provisioning.

Yamamoto is forced to approach Tousen, who was forced to do all of Aizen's lab work is still in his mandated year of recovery and had been granted an actual, legal retirement by Yamamoto, to beg him to take over the 12th before they run out of food and/or the 12th actually explodes.

[klorophile]

I agree and I don't at the same time... I've been having mixed feelings about this take and I'm gonna try to put some words on it.

First of, Arcane absolutely is a modern tragedy, yes, of course, no doubts about that. It's even presented with a classic theatre colored structure: different acts composed of episodes (scenes), and even works in threes to be fancy. And I mean... the characters, their actions, the consequences, the themes, ... You see how things will go bad, and they do go bad because of their premices. Tragedy all the way.

Yes. ...For season 1. But season 2? I personally expected season 2 not to be a tragedy, or at least not fully. Because I feel like... "what's the point?" Season 1 was already fantastically sad. Absolutely all the characters were shaken at their core (to the point of death for some), everyone was facing their big ass consequences by the end of it. Why repeat that in season 2? Because the message of "you always pay the consequences of your actions" had already been 100% delivered, I feel like there was no need to repeat it for another 9 episodes. In a way, I feel like it's redundant.

And maybe that wouldn't have been a problem. I mean, Game of Thrones told us from the start "you're gonna cry, 'cause the world is horrible and that's it" and repeated it throughout all the seasons, sure, but I think one of the differences is that Game of Thrones never promised anything else. While I know I feel like Arcane did.

One of their motto for the second season was that everything was going to be turned upside down, a 'story of opposites' as Silco says, they wanted to force the characters to be the opposite of what they usually are (Vi with no one to protect, Jinx a hero, ruthless Caitlyn, not alive silco ToT etc). And well... If season 1 was a complete tragedy and season 2 is going to be the upside down version, then why is it still a tragedy?

And I know, writing those words, that the obvious answer is "because everyone still face consequences", "because the world is a tragedy no matter who you are", "because you can't escape", etc etc. Okay. Maybe (most probably) I'm just a pussy who can't stand sad endings, especially when I have a blorbo from this show. Maybe.

But I think a lot of us are feeling betrayed, not just disappointed, hence the strong reactions. For @angelinthefire's "Because I think a lot of the complaints you see come from some people result from expecting it to be a certain kind of story that it's not." I wonder: Wasn't it the story itself that made us expect another genre at the end? Like I said, the part 1 tragedy then part 2 same tragedy feels weird.

And, in all honesty, I hate that I am saying all of that, because I completely agree that people should just tell the story they want to tell however they want to tell it. I did not expect to find myself complain about something being a tragedy instead of having a good ending.

But the other thing is that I feel like season 2 is not completely consistant about its 'consequences', and also, well, a bit cruel... Because if you look at Caitlyn, she paid very little, she's just forgiven by the narrative like that, because the writers decided that she was 'good', and that in spite of her actions. And don't read this as Caitlyn hate, I absolutely love her, but I think that doing this to her kept her away from the character development she could have had. I feel like they made her narratively good, but also less narratively intersting than she could have been.

Meanwhile, Jinx had to die with Warwick, and the message is that she finally pays the consequences of her actions from when she was 12 and accidentally got her family killed. And that's... brutal. Of course, I am a Jinx stan, so I'm not objective at all, I am aware. But if I am a Jinx stan, it's because the show made her oh so relatable. A lot of people see themselves in her. And that makes killing her a little tricky I think... Especially as what she is being 'punished' for was an accident, that in the end does not get to be forgiven.

And I mean... I think all of this could have been okay, actually. Season 2 could have been a second tragedy, why not. But what bothers me the most is simply that it does not work as well as season 1.

In season 1, the end is unescapable. That is precisely why it's a tragedy. Everyone is aiming towards it, everything is falling falling falling to this. But I am not convinced by season 2. Viktor and Jayce had to be obliterated by the arcane to save the world? Ok, sure, but then explain it! How does it work? What did they actually stop? Because the Hexgate is still standing there, hextech still exists, Piltover is still what it is... Events are going to repeat themselves. And sure, there won't be Viktor for a new Glorious Evolution, which is for the better, but what how why Ekko what what happened?? It's just not explained enough. If it's all about consequences then the arcane and the wild rune should be explained better because nothing feels like consequences, it just feel like plot written for itself. It doesn't feel like a tragedy, it feels like a story written by people trying to knot an ending. Vi and Jinx can't have a relationship anymore, because they always fall in this codependant nocious thing so Jinx has to fake her own death and flee the country all on her own? Ok, that's interesting. But why show that they could and actually did begin to mend things between each other then? (the both of them working together as equals, Vi asking for Jinx's opinion, Jinx learning to be the big sister with Isha and by seeing Vi with her alcohol problem, ...) Why show Vander and Silco (Vi and Jinx parallels) together if by the end the conclusion is that you cannot mend a relationship when it's been too bad for too long?

Anyway, I feel like what I disagree with in season 2 (one of the things at least, because we're not talking about the Piltover/Zaun storytelling here, amongst other things) is that we were told that it did not have to end badly, and then it did anyway, and for reasons that are not solid enough. I agree with season 1 because I see how it couldn't have turned differently. It shows us its heroes, and because they are what they are, the end is what it is. But in season 2, I just feel like the sad ending was forced. It's the other way around: the end has to be sad, so the characters are going to do this and that. And I think that is also a part of why we read the 'consequences' with the morale glasses on: because if it is more forced than logically flowing, then we see the choices the writers deliberately made, who they chose to keep alive and who they did not, and we wonder why.

They say it's about consequences, but it feels more like they are forcing their characters in a direction because they want the end to go a certain way. It's not inescapable like season 1. And if it's not inescapable, then maybe we deserved a good ending for season 2. Or at least an episode 10 that would be an alternate ending or something.

I've been thinking about how I would most concisely sum up the plot of Acane. Because I think a lot of the complaints you see come from some people result from expecting it to be a certain kind of story that it's not.

And I think the most concise way to put it is that Arcane is about consequences. The first episode starts with an explosion, that the characters spend the rest of the arc dealing with the repercussions of. And then the first arc ends with two massive events - Powder killing her family and the invention of hextech - that they spend the entire rest of the show dealing with.

I think most of the stories we get from Western media are about achieving or accomplishing something, or the failure to achieve something. And you can frame Arcane in those terms. But I think to best understand the story, you have to step out of that typical framework. Because the thing with an achievement-based story is that there is a particular end goal in mind, and I don't think Arcand has that.

Like take Vi and Jinx, for example. A typical way to frame their story would be that it's about two sisters trying to rebuild their relationship. That presupposes a certain ending: They either succeed or fail at their relationship, and that's what the focus is on.

But it's not about that. It's about - how do you deal with an event that fundamentally changes you?

In season 1, Vi's answer was to recapture what things were like before. In season 2, they try to redo the past (saving Vander) and get a different outcome, but that's impossible. The answer comes with Ekko - to build something new.

And this is all over the show - action and reaction, how the arcane wakes up, killing is a cycle.

[leighsartworks216]

As If In A Dream

Zayne x gn!Reader

Sooooooo I had a thoughtttt..... I'm sorryyyy ;-;

@comatosebunny09 Here's the fic for the idea I told you about 💀

Warnings: fluff, angst, domestic fluff, children, cooking, kissing, blood, open ending

Word Count: 1,463

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"You two! Stop messing around and eat your breakfast!" You turn to the children at the table, hands on your hips. Even though you're trying to scold them, you can't help smiling. The round faces of a boy and a girl smile back at you, cherry-cheeked and giggling. You step away from the stove to kiss both their heads. "C'mon, eat up, you gotta go to school soon!"

With chimes of "Okay!" they pick up their forks and dig into the pancakes you've made. You ruffle their hair and get back to the stove, flipping another pancake onto a plate. Strong arms wrap around you.

"Are they giving you a hard time?" Zayne's chin rests on your shoulder, light kisses peppered behind your ear and on your jaw.

You laugh at the ticklish feeling, but you lean into him all the same. He holds you tighter, as though holding you so close could transfer all the emotions he's feeling into you. Not that he needs to - you know him like the back of your hand already.

"Nah, they're just excited. They're bringing in those cards to school today - of the little monsters, you know?" You add more batter to the pan and kiss his cheek. "You can go ahead and make your plate, I'm almost done."

He hums, shaking his head. "If you're almost done, I'll wait for you."

"Daddy!" your little girl calls out. She managed to get all your energy. Zayne said as much when she kept refusing to be put down for naps, wanting to keep playing all the time.

He gives you one last squeeze and kiss before he pulls away. Your daughter is practically bouncing in her chair with unbridled excitement as he walks over. "What is it, snowflake?" He smooths down her wild hair as he kisses her head.

She points to two cards on the table that sit in between her and her brother. "What one is cooler?"

"What is this about?" he asks, all too aware of the mess he's being invited to step into. Still, he picks up the cards to look at them both.

Your daughter opens her mouth, but your son quickly taps her on the arm. "No, don't say anything!" he reminds her in a hushed voice (though quite loud, enough for you to hear over your cooking). "Just pick what one is cooler!"

He's fighting a smile as he compares the two monsters. Having played with them a few times, he recognizes them both, but feeling strongly one way or the other about either of them isn't exactly his forte when it comes to their designs. "I think they're both cool," he says instead.

Your son gapes up at him. He got your stubbornness. "Nuh-uh!"

Zayne nods. "They both have unique and interesting qualities that make them stand out. See-" He points to the long, catfish-like whiskers of the first monster, crouching down between them so they can both see what he's doing. "This one has very cool whiskers that it uses to sense things around it to see. And this one-" He points to the drill-point arms it has. "It can use these to dig through the dirt really fast. I think these are both just too cool to compare."

You turn off the stove and walk over with a plate full of pancakes. "What do you think?" Zayne asks before the kids can. They watch with eager eyes as you take the cards and look at them.

"Hmm..." You purse your lips, squinting playfully at the little monsters. "I think... You're gonna be late for school." You smile as you hand them back their cards, which they hurriedly shuffle back into their decks. "Go brush your teeth and get your shoes on.

"Okay!" they chime in tandem again as they rush out of their seats to run down the hall.

“And don’t forget your homework,” he calls after them. Then, Zayne smiles up at you. "That's cheating." He stands and rounds the table, his arms finding their way around your waist once more.

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing idly with his hair. He needs a haircut, but you quite enjoy messing with his longer hair. It slips between your fingers so nicely. "The drill one is much cooler," you tell him quietly.

He chuckles softly. "I rather liked the whiskers one myself."

He leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. Down the hall you can hear the patter of feet and chatter as they get ready. The warm aroma of pancakes fills the air, tinged sweet with syrup. They'll be cool by the time you both get back from walking them to the bus stop, but you don't mind. Not really. Not when you get to heat them back up and eat them with your husband, teasing him for the amount of syrup he uses and stealing sweet kisses.

His smile is infectious. His green eyes are warm and shining. He’s so handsome. You press a light peck to his lips and let your eyes close in bliss.

He says your name. You hum. He says it again. It's muffled. It's much harder to open your eyes now.

When you finally manage, his face is right there. But... he doesn't look the same. His hair is the same length it’s always been.  His eyes are sharp, flickering all over your face. His brow is furrowed. He's worried and... he's scared.

You try to speak, but no words come out. Instead, harsh coughs punch out of your chest. Something hot and wet lands on your chin with each cough. He holds something over your nose and mouth; an oxygen mask that eases the strain in your lungs.

"You're alright." He lifts the mask for a moment and wipes your chin with medical tissue. You can feel the rubber of a glove covering his hand, stained thoroughly red. He sets the mask over your mouth again. "Just take deep breaths. We're almost at the hospital."

Hospital...?

Oh.

Right.

There was a Wanderer attack. While you and Zayne were eating lunch, the Metaflux went off the rails and suddenly a whole swarm of them appeared. You forced Zayne to focus on getting everyone else out of harms way while you dealt with the Wanderers. It's your job, after all. It shouldn't have been a big deal.

You try to look down at yourself. There's a lot of red. So much red. Is that all yours...? How can it be? There's so much...

He uses the back of his gloved hand to press against your forehead and lay your head back down. You weakly grab onto his arm. More red.

"Did... everyone get.... out?" It's so hard to speak. Your throat burns. You feel cold.

He nods. "Everyone else is safe. The Wanderers are gone."

You let out a relieved sigh and try to nod.

He looks down at your body. He looks pale. Paler than usual. His attention shoots back to your face when you laugh, weak as it may be.

"Zayne..." Your hand slides down his arm, fingers interlacing loosely with his. He holds on despite the blood. "You should... smile more.... 's pretty....."

He only frowns deeper. "We can worry about that later."

You shake your head. It lolls upsettingly from side to side. "Now...? Please....?"

You look at him and your brain is confused. It keeps searching for that Zayne from moments ago, that looked at you with so much love and warmth in his eyes. The only Zayne here, now, has cold, calculating eyes that try to see through you to figure out exactly what needs to be done to treat you. Maybe if he smiles, you can get even a fraction closer to that Zayne. Your Zayne.

"If I smile now, do you promise to make it through this?" he asks. It's a silly question for how serious his voice is. But you nod regardless.

"Promise....."

It's difficult. Trying to smile when you're fading away right in front of him. He's determined not to let that light fully leave your eyes - he can't let that happen. He swallows, bites his cheek, and does his damndest to force even a slight smile. Whatever he manages to produce seems to be enough for you, because you smile right back, dopey and unfocused.

"So... handsome....." Something akin to a giggle gurgles from your throat, fading off as your eyes flutter shut. His smile falls instantly.

The ambulance stops. He wastes no time opening the doors and helping the EMTs and nurses as they wheel you to an already prepared operating room. He refuses to let that be your last smile. Your last words. Your last anything. He will save you. He has to save you.

---

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