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sissytobitch10seconds · 4 months

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Luck and Charms

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Summary: Viktor has already gone through this once and he isn't sure that he can let it play out exactly as it did the time before. Thankfully, his siblings don't seem super inclined to let that happen. Warnings: Teenage pregnancy, graphic depictions of childbirth, Reginald Hargreeves' specific breed of child abuse, trans male pregnancy, hidden pregnancy, and implied toxic relationships Word Count: 8,228 Ship(s): Viktor Hargreeves & Everyone

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A/N: So it was kind of hard to tag but I wanted to put a warning here. I'm going to be referring to Viktor by his deadname and she/her pronouns in the flashback to when he was a teenager since he hadn't realized who he really was at that time. If this makes you uncomfortable feel free to give it a miss, but I promise that I chose to do that based off my own feelings about my deadname as a trans person and I'm not one of those people that just don't want Viktor to be trans haha. I hope that you all enjoy it! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Stepping back into his childhood home felt like he was condemning himself to the worst kind of death known to man. It would have been Hell on earth even if he hadn’t found himself in the situation that he was in. He was glad that the gods had, for once, given him the small grace of killing off his father. He was supposed to be coming back to the Academy so that he could meet up with his siblings for dinner after their father’s wake. He had declined coming back for the actual service, unwilling to see the man that had caused him so much pain and anguish during his life.

Several of his siblings had reached out to him personally to ask if he would be willing to come for dinner even if he didn’t want to be at the service, so he knew that it was worth something. He just wasn’t sure that he wanted to reveal so many intimate details of his life all at once. After a mountain of therapy, he had realized that the only reason they had acted that way towards him was because they were also suffering with the abuse that their father had delt to all of them. It wasn’t their fault that they had excluded him, even if it did hurt. He trusted them more than he would have without the careful advice of his therapist, but perhaps not enough to tell them that he was pregnant.

He carried back, with the baby resting more against his spine than anything else. He had a small bump that could be hidden with a compression garment and some baggy clothing. So he had dressed in a pair of his maternity leggings with a girdle on underneath to squish everything down into him. He had donned his favorite yellow flannel and a baggy leather jacket to obscure everything else that might show despite his efforts. He was almost nine months pregnant, so there was no way that he was going to be able to hide all of it entirely.

Viktor stepped through the halls of his childhood home without anyone coming to greet him. He was glad for it, for once. He wanted to be alone while he was assessing the feelings that overwhelmed him at being back in the front entryway. So many memories were held in the halls where he had grown up and most of them were bad. Each one of the good ones had been soured by information that he had been fed the older that he got.

He shoved his hands into his pocket so that he could resist the urge to touch his belly to comfort himself. He could still feel the babe inside of him squirming away as they had done since they got big enough for him to feel. Some of the people in his orchestra said that they must be dancing to the music that they played, or maybe reacting to Viktor’s heart since music thrummed through his veins.

He knew that if they understood just how real that was, none of them would be nearly as close to him as they were. The thought brought back another thing that he didn’t want his siblings to know about. It was personal and intimate in a way that he didn’t want broken by their opinions on it.

He found his way to the dining room on his own and hovered in the doorway before all of them turned to greet him.

“Viktor! I’m so glad that you made it,” Allison grinned as she rose from her chair and walked towards him with open arms.

He side stepped her and then ducked when Klaus tried to cage him in from the other side. He noticed immediately the way that their gazes shifted and how their body language tightened up when they saw how he was acting. “Sorry, guys. I had a lot of lessons with new students today and I have a migraine. I’m feeling overstimulated and not up to touching,” he shrugged.

“We can reschedule if you need, Viktor,” Luther said from his place on the table. That was a surprise, based on the way that Luther had acted when they were children and in that very position.

The thought of having to come back to the house again after he had done all the work to get there made him want to start crying. It was unlike himself to cry at the drop of a hat now, thanks to the hormones from his unborn baby. “Uh, no that’s okay,” he shook his head. He didn’t want to risk coming back to a planned date closer to when he was due, and after that he knew that he wouldn’t want to be away from his baby for more than a couple of hours. Having to come back to his childhood home instead of staying with his child would have a no-brainer answer to it and make his siblings very suspicious of what he was doing.

He cleared his throat and then awkwardly walked over to his seat. He sat down while trying to hide the fact that it was awkward for him to do so because of how his center of gravity had changed. They all sat in silence for a bit as everyone else gathered bis of their food as well. The conversation picked up again and Viktor was surprised to find that he was actually being included.

He talked and laughed with his siblings like they hadn’t been the greatest force of pain in his life less than a decade ago. He was about halfway through the meal when he was suddenly overcome with nausea and had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom. The door locked and the tap turned on before he heaved into the porcelain basin, clutching at it like a lifeline.

When he had finished, he looked at himself in the mirror and tried to quiet the anxiety in his chest. The baby was coming.

---

Vanya woke up feeling like shit.

She woke slowly, her brown eyes flickering over to the window so that she could determine what time it was. She had accidentally broken her clock when trying to move her wardrobe to get a new feeling to her room, and make some space for her baby, and her father hadn’t provided her with a new one. She had to get all of her time from the sun and where it was setting in the city outside, which was difficult given the amount of light pollution.

She assumed that it had only been a couple of hours, which was a relief. Her appetite had disappeared during the first couple months of her pregnancy but since she had entered into the second trimester, it felt like she was always ravishing.

Her body came back to her slowly, one ache and one pain at a time. Her ankles and calves were swollen from having to stand while the others trained all day. Her hips hurt from the adjustments that they were making for the growing baby in her womb. Her breasts had hurt for weeks, but now they also sticky and uncomfortable and she was leaking colostrum again. Grace had told her that it wasn’t uncommon for women to start lactating before the baby had arrived even if their full milk wouldn’t come in for even days after birth.

She knew that she would be hungry, it was late enough that she would be expecting dinner even if she wasn’t pregnant. So she slowly shifted over so that she was laying on her side and then hefted herself into a sitting position. She wiggled towards the edge of the bed and then hefted herself upright. Vanya hated having to get up and leave her room, which was why she had personally isolated herself from her siblings more than she was usually.

It was different when it was her own choice, it almost felt liberating in a sense. In the beginning, when she had been so sick in the mornings that she could barely stand without vomiting it had felt like a curse. Now, it felt like a blessing that none of her siblings were going to come looking for her. She was able to leave her door unlocked so that both of her caretakers had access to her without having to wear the tight bandages around her belly and hide her pregnancy.

Now that she was heading out to dinner, though, she was going to have to put it back on. She had never had to go through the ordeal of being trained to deal with the media circus in the same way that her siblings had, but she felt some semblance of what they had to go through now.

Vanya had never been a rebellious member of the family. Five lashed out by arguing with their father and trying out the limited edges of his power. Diego argued with Luther and tried to push the boundaries of the team to see what he could get away with. Klaus snuck out of the house and went to all kinds of parties, which was exactly what had gotten her in trouble.

She wasn’t sure that he had even meant to come to her instead of seeking out Ben or Allison, but she had gone with him. She had felt exhilaration thrumming through her like nothing else, likely because she had left her medication on her bedside table. She had danced under the starlight sky and throbbing lights, smelled the heady cloves that people were smoking, and then kissed a man that smelled like whisky and trouble. He hadn’t even bothered to stick around long enough for her to finish dressing, but part of him was embedded in her forever.

She hadn’t really been all that surprised when she found out that she was pregnant and then her father demanded that she hide it. She wouldn’t want to distract the Umbrella Academy from the important work that they were doing out in the world with her mundane bullshit. She was also glad that she was sequestered away in her room when she heard about the punishment that Klaus was going to be getting from Grace.

Vanya rebuttoned the front of her blouse and then turned sideways in the mirror that was attached to the back of her wardrobe door. She pushed down the folds of her skirt and then turned to the other side. She determined that her bump was hidden enough that no one would notice it when sparing the occasional glance at little Number Seven.

So nearly jumped out of her skin when Klaus slung an arm over her shoulder and then knocked their hips together on their way down the stairs to the table. He didn’t bother with her after that because he always preferred to poke at Five and Ben, but she felt comfortably included before then. Her mouth water and her stomach growled loudly underneath the layers of fabric when Grace brought out their evening meal. She could barely contain herself to her normal portion when she realized just how hungry she was for her evening meal.

Vanya loaded as much food as she thought she could get away with and then listened to her siblings talk about their days without adding anything of her own.

Nausea was a common feeling for her, especially after what she had to go through during the beginning of her pregnancy. It didn’t take long for her to raise to her feet and silently walk out of the dining room. No one called after her, she wasn’t even sure that their seer had noticed another ghost roaming the halls of their home. She slipped into the bathroom and then turned on the faucet before she collapsed in front of the toilet to spew up the dinner that she had just eaten.

She didn’t know what was happening, but she had the feeling that she was in for a long night.

---

Viktor splashed some cold water on his face to try and remove the blotchy redness. He had broken down almost as soon as he had finished vomiting, crying into the mess that he made in the bowl of the toilet.

This was something that he had known was going to happen, that he was very well aware of. He would have been an idiot to have thought that there was no way that his baby was going to be born. He had already done it before and knew the signs that came with his labor, but he had been so worried about the dinner he was having with his family that he had ignored them. He had pushed away the worry over his minor crampings that were actually pre-labor contractions all throughout work and getting ready. He had ignored the sudden burst of energy that he had gotten during the middle of the day despite his constant exhaustion. He had been able to ignore it all, telling himself that he had another two weeks before he was due to be delivering.

The vomiting was what clued him in to the fact that it was really happening, so that there was no way to ignore it. He took a small amount of solace in the fact that at least for the time being, he felt better than he had when he escaped to the bathroom.

He dragged his feet as he walked back down the hall and towards the dining room. He sat down in his chair and shook off the worried remarks pointed in his direction from his siblings. He was able to talk to them about their jobs, their work, what they were doing for their hobbies. He found the panic and fear in his mind about what was now becoming more and more imminent slipping away from him one comment or snipe at a time.

Now that their father was gone and they were free to be themselves, it was possible for them to actually get along with each other. Five and Ben had careers in the fields that they had always dreamed of, Diego had a wife that he loved, and Luther was going back to school. Allison was the only one that wasn’t content, but she was in therapy so she could patch the holes she had found in her life.

Things in his labor really were progressing, as much as he wanted to deny it. They were only about halfway through the latter portion of the meal when he felt his first real contraction start. It crept up his spine like someone was filling the fluid up with ice and then spread through his hips in a hot, white burn. It cramped around his belly like every single muscle was taut as a string primed for snappage. It overwhelmed him and made it hard for him to see or hear anything even though his senses were still working.

After that, the contractions were coming at a steady seven minutes apart from each other. He kept track by glancing at the clock that was hanging on the wall, ornate and carved with Roman numerals. Realistically, he should have gotten out of the house as soon as he had realized he was in labor. His midwife had worked with him to create a birth plan and the majority of that had been that he wanted to be in his own home and away from as much medical equipment as possible. It was supposed to keep him calm and prevent his powers from lashing out or his labor from stalling.

At the same time, however, he actually wanted to stay with his family. It was one of the first times that he had ever had a conversation with them and he wanted to continue that kind of relationship with them in the future. He was worried that if he just got up and left, then they were going to assume that he was being standoffish or that he didn’t appreciate them reaching ot to him. He couldn’t explain what was going on with him yet either.

The contractions continued throughout dinner and desert, but finally Grace cleared away the plates and people began to stand from the table. Viktor wasn’t able to stifle the relief that washed over him at the idea of being able to finally call his cab and get home where he could labor in peace. Having to keep his noises near silent was costing him more energy than he wanted to expend.

“I think we should go play some board games in the living room! Vik, what do you think?” Klaus asked with that cat-like grin that spoke for trouble.

“I… It’s getting kind of late,” Viktor gave a meaningful glance back towards the clock. “I don’t want to not be able to get a cab, you know they stopped the service past ten.”

“It’s only nine,” Ben argued as he began to gently poke his brother in the direction of their comfortable family living room, the only place where they had ever felt like a real family.

“Come on, if you’re here later than the cabs run then I can drive you home. I got my license renewed and everything,” Diego said as he ducked around Klaus and into the room.

Viktor opened his mouth to protest again but then had to quickly shut it so that another groan didn’t escape. He didn’t get the chance to continue before Five said, “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were trying to escape from us, V.”

That was precisely what he had been trying to avoid by not leaving for dinner early. He supposed that his contractions were still about five minutes apart, so he had time before he was going to be at the place where his water would break.

He grit his teeth as he shuffled slowly towards the living room.

---

Vanya slowly made her way back to the dining room table, her hands clasping and unclasping at her sides. She didn’t know what had just happened and that was scaring her. She had made sure to listen and ask questions during her private health lessons with her mother as she got further along in her pregnancy. She had watched for signs of labor in her body for as long as she thought was applicable, even back in the months when it would have meant near certain death for her unborn baby. Vomiting was a symptom of labor, but everything that she had read in the books provided to help prep her had told her that it was something that would happen during the transition stage, not the beginning.

She barely had time to think about it when she returned to her seat at the table. She noticed that her siblings were looking at her, which was something that she had been forbidden from doing when her morning sickness had first started. Her father didn’t want her siblings to be able to pick up on her pregnancy, which was why her bump was squished beneath a custom-made piece of fabric and she had to turn on the tap when she was puking in the mornings.

“Number Seven, it was completely uncalled for and unnecessary for you to cause such a disturbance when we’re all trying to eat our evening meal,” Reginald snapped.

Vanya bent her head down so that she was staring at the slight slope of her belly. She knew that her baby was safely tucked away in there, could feel them moving and kicking at her internal organs and bindings. She wished that their life was different, that her child didn’t have to look forward to same kind of pain as their mother. “I’m sorry, Father,” she finally managed to push past the lump in her throat.

Reginald let out a harrumph and then turned back to his meal. Vanya picked at her own until they were excused from the table and she was able to walk back upstairs to her room. The others had cool down exercises and some more schoolwork that they had to complete before they prepared for the evening experiments. It had been like that for as long as she could remember and she couldn’t think of any other way that their family would operate.

She sat down on her bed and then slowly unwound the wrap from around her belly so that she could fold them and lay it down on her desk. Her delicate musicians hands cascaded down her belly so that she was cupping the bottom of the tear drop shape. She hoped that when she no longer had to wear the bandage, the aching in her hips would ease up and she would get some respite. Her father was planning on placing her back in the isolation ward that she had been in during the beginning of her pregnancy when she got closer to her due date.

“Another few weeks and then it’ll just be you and me,” she whispered to her unborn babe. She got a reply in the form of a tiny foot outline on the taut skin.

She smiled despite the burning sensation that was echoing over the skin of her bump. It changed into something else entirely when it should have simply faded away. There was a creeping tightness along her spine before it overtook her hips and then caused every single muscle in her stomach to scream with pressure. She couldn’t say anything, couldn’t call out, could barely even move as she was overcome with the foreign sensation.

Vanya knew that the others weren’t to know about her condition, that she had to keep it a secret and be hidden away from the family when she couldn’t hide it herself. She knew that she was risking a very harsh punishment from her father by doing so, but the fear of what was happening had overcome any anxiety about retribution. “MOM!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, the words warping through the halls of their home.

It only took a couple of minutes before she heard the hurried steps of heels on a hardwood floor and then her door opened. “Vanya dear, what’s wrong?” Grace asked. Her robotic eyes flickered between her daughter and the wrap laying on the desk, then down to where Vanya was still clutching at her belly.

“Something is happening with the baby, Mom,” she whimpered. She could feel the tears collecting on her lashes and threatening to tip over the edge. It had hurt so badly, more than belly burn or acid reflux or kicks to her bladder or even Braxton Hicks. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but something crawling up the back of her spine was letting her know that it was bad.

Grace shut and locked the door behind her even though the other Academy members were downstairs and being watched over by Pogo and Reginald. She carefully knelt down beside her daughter and then placed her hand over the bump so that she could take some diagnostics.

Just as she did that, another one of the strange pressure-pains that Vanya had just overcome wrapped around her body. It felt like someone was trying to keep her intestines in a vice but in a very different way than her period cramps had. She could almost feel the baby, amniotic sac and all, inside of her when she was overcome with one of them.

“Oh, dear, you have nothing to worry about! You’ve simply gone into labor a little earlier than we expected. But this is good timing on your part because now we can get you to the other side of the house without your siblings knowing,” Grace said chipperly.

Vanya felt like her entire world was crashing down around her. She hadn’t discussed it with anyone, but she had a plan for how she wanted her birth to happen and now she was never going to get it.

---

The others brought out a stack of board games so big that Viktor was convinced that the entire thing was going to come toppling down. He had no idea where they would have gotten such a thing in the house that they had grown up in since Reginald was so vehemently against any kind of recreation, but he chose not to mention anything about it. He wanted to get through the bonding and games as quickly as they could so that he could slink back to his home and have his baby in peace.

The others spread out the first game that they were going to play, arguing over who was going to have what color icon and who could sit where. Viktor just put himself along the couch so that he could lean back on something that was solid whenever he got a contraction. He barely remembered how he was supposed to deal with them anymore, but the anxiety that came with every single one was familiar. It wasn’t like it had been last time, so much had been different, but there was enough similarities that his mind was plagued with visions and grasping at the straws of the fear of the unknown like it had been last time.

Time felt like it was moving through toffy to get to him. Each round of the game felt like it lasted an eon when in reality, they last about ten minutes each. He knew because he kept glancing over to the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room so that he could time the pains. Viktor tried to make sure that he was reacting to the things that his siblings were doing so that he wouldn’t get called out for paying attention. He was losing badly because his mind was too heady with a fog to really pay attention to the strategies that the others were using, but hed idn’t care. He was trying to find an excuse that he could use when his contractions were finally five minutes apart and too much time would have passed.

They finished up their game and then moved onto the next one. Viktor felt like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, like he was being pushed into the ground by the hand of some cruel god. He wanted to go home where he felt safe, but he wanted his siblings to feel loved at the same time. If he had been around them when he was in labor the first time, he would have felt more steady and the process likely would have gone much faster.

It was as if thinking about his labor progressing quickly had condemned him to the fate he absolutely did not want to be dealing with. The contractions suddenly jumped from six minutes to three minutes apart. He was barely able to string his thoughts into a coherent line, much less ask Diego to drive him home since the clock had clicked past when his preferred cab service ran.

“Viktor, are you okay?” Five asked when he noticed that something was going on with his favorite brother.

Suddenly, he wanted to spill every part of his life to his siblings. They were all working so hard to try and create a relationship with him even though they had been forced away from him their entire lives. He wanted to tell them about the boy that had left him in the lurch, the child resting safe in his womb, and the pains that he was fighting through. The words were caught in his throat. The only thing that he was able to get past his lips was, “No.”

It was as if that was the magic word that would have given him the family that he had always wanted. Allison was by his side in a second, taking his hand into her own so that she could try and catch his eyes easier. “What’s wrong?”

The pain slowly receded so that it was once again the now ever-present pressure along his spine and around his hips. “You guys have to promise not to get mad or weird when I tell you,” he breathed. He didn’t know why the air had been stolen from his lungs during that contraction, but everything felt like it was more intense than it had been before. He supposed that intensity was why he hadn’t exactly been making the most rational decisions since his labor had stared.

“We’re not going to get mad, Viktor. Now what’s going on?” Five asked, fidgeting closer to his best friend.

“I’m in labor. As in, I’m not sure that I can go home like my birth plan specified level in labor,” he choked out.

The room was so quiet that he felt like he was choking on it before Diego shot to his feet with a quick, “I’m going to get Mom.”

“In labor? But you don’t even look pregnant,” Luther argued.

Viktor reached behind him and then unzipped the girdle that he had been using to hide his pregnancy from the public and his siblings. His belly was still small because he was a small person, but it was very obvious that it was there now. “I’m eight and a half months, I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly. I just wanted to spend time with you guys.”

He expected some kind of shouting match to happen between his siblings about the fact that he was pregnant. Instead, Allison just wrapped her arms around his shoulder to bring him into a hug. She pressed a kiss to his forehead as she whispered, “Shh, shh, you’re okay. We’re going to take care of you, Vik. Everything is going to be okay.”

It took all of his energy not to cry in relief. He and his baby were going to be okay, his siblings were at least pretending to love him in the present. He tried to take solace in that instead of letting the panic consume him.

---

Grace helped Vanya raise slowly from the bed and then the two of them began the journey down the hall. While they walked, the teenager thought about all of the things that she had read about in her books while preparing for that day. The idea that she was actually in labor, that her body was making the final preparations for her baby to be born, was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. She had been having stress dreams about it for some time already so it was almost surreal to actually be moving through the steps in real life instead of just her mind.

The books had mentioned the kinds of things that someone would want to pack or have on hand depending on what they were planning to do during the process. They talked about the kinds of clothes that would be most comfortable to wear during labor and then after the birth, the types of things that a baby would need when they were being brought home. She didn’t have to worry about any of that because she had never had to request anything. All of her belongings had always been provided to her and she knew that the same was going to be true of her labor and delivery process. She wouldn’t need a baby blanket for her newborn, her mother would have one. She never got to choose what she wore, so that also wasn’t a worry.

They got to the sick room that Vanya had taken up as her own during the last nine months. It was where she had gotten all of her check ups done and where she had spent the first two months of her morning sickness before she had shown that she could control it. It was also going to be where she delivered her baby.

The room was a plain white and gray, not a single window in any of the walls. Several monitors were inlaid, though, which meant that the place wasn’t as boring as she had anticipated it being. There was also a hospital bed with soft looking blue blankets resting on top of it.

Grace helped her sit down on the edge of the bed and then began to undress her. She changed into the hospital gown like she had when she had first started to show signs of being unwell. Vanya was then laid down against the mattress as two bands were wrapped around her swollen belly so that they could monitor her contractions and the progress she was making in her labor as well as her own vitals.

The silence in the room felt like it was drowning her. She wished that she could listen to music like the books had suggested, she was sure that it would soothe the panic resting under her heart. Music always felt like it was filling the pit inside of her, like it was easing whatever ache had formed in her when she was young. She was scared and nervous and a number of other things that she was too young to name, which meant that she was too scared to ask for what she needed.

The door to the hospital room opened up after what felt like a thousand hours and even more contractions. Reginald walked in and suddenly the anxiety inside of Vanya spiked to a whole new level, wracking through her like she had never felt before. Her father didn’t even spare her a passing glance as he walked over to the nurse robot and said, “There you are. I have been trying to summon you for the better part of an hour and you didn’t respond to a single one!”

“My apologies, sir, but my program told me that attending to Vanya during her labor was more important than tending to simple first aid that the other children can perform on each other,” she explained with her regulated, calm tone. It was enough to make Vanya slowly sink back down into her pillows to have some ease with her next contraction, but the anxiety was still there since Reginald hadn’t replied yet.

“Why on earth would you think that? It’s only labor, not the birth,” he scoffed.

“Given that Vanya is so young and this is her first child, it would be better if she had someone familiar with medical practices and familiar to her just in case something were to go wrong and to keep her calm enough that labor does not stall,” Grace replied.

The old man turned his gaze towards his child with the disdain that only someone like him would be able to summon. “Go attend to the others, get them into bed and then return back here. I will sit with Number Seven and monitor her vitals in the meantime,” he groused. He pulled that thick red book from under his arm and flipped it open as he sat down in one of the other chairs. Grace listened to her master and stood, despite the fretful look that Vanya was giving to her mother.

The next half hour was the worst experience of her labor, even worse than the pain that was wracking her form. Grace didn’t come back for another twenty minutes and her water had broken during the halfway mark, but her father had barely even looked at her. She wasn’t able to make herself call out to him for help, so she simply tried to move herself off of the bed so that she could handle it on her own.

It was humiliating and scary and she never wanted to be in that situation. She wished that she had any way to contact the boy that had gotten her in that position, or force the brother that had taken her to that party to be by her side. She just wanted comfort and a familial presence around her, but she was never going to get it.

---

Allison had just released Viktor by the time that Grace came back into the ground. “What’s going on, children?” she asked, her mechanical eyes half vacant with old programming and the lack of someone to give her orders.

“Mom, Viktor needs your help. He’s going to have a baby,” Allison explained.

The robot walked over to him and then knelt down at his side with one hand placed on his belly just as he experienced another contraction. She gave a nod, “Bring him to the infirmary would you, Luther?”

The aforementioned man paled a little bit as he turned towards his brother. “Is it okay if I pick you up? I don’t think that Mom remembers the fact that I was never allowed to do that when we were kids.”

“I think Mom understands that this far into my labor, there is no way that I’m going to be able to get up and walk,” he replied through gritted teeth. That apparently was enough to snap his brother out of whatever panicked stupor he was suffering through. He carefully picked Viktor up with one arm around his shoulders and the other underneath his knees.

As they walked down the hall, the rest of the siblings quickly followed after them. Grace was waiting in the main medical room instead of the quarantine room that Viktor had been in last time, which he was massively relieved for. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to handle giving birth in the same place that everything had happened in last time.

Klaus, Ben, Diego, and Luther were eventually left out in the hall once Luther had set him down properly. Five and Allison were allowed to stay after Viktor had been prompted by the aforementioned woman about who he wanted to be by his side. She wasn’t asking about a partner that he might want with him, but the question had been open ended enough that he would have felt secure telling her if there was anyone.

Just like last time, he was transferred into a hospital gown and then his water broke all over the bed. Unlike last time, Grace was able to get the ground and him cleaned of the clear fluid before he was placed into the birthing bed. Five was on his left side and Allison was at his right, both of them doting over him just like he had wanted someone to when he was in labor. He had never anticipated them being the ones to escort him through the process but he was at leats relieved that he wasn’t doing it virtually alone.

Grace sat down on a stool between his legs and checked his dilation before she determined that he was ready to push. He had apparently been calm enough that his labor didn’t stall and his second child was coming much faster than the first had. The robot flew into action as she instructed her other two children, “I want one of you to take his legs and hike them up. Viktor, when you get the next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can. You know what you’re doing.”

“You do?” Allison asked, looking a bit surprised.

“Another time,” he gasped. He was holding their spare hands as he bent over himself to push in a downwards motion. He had remembered it hurting far more than it actually did, the pushing actually relieving a lot of the pressure that was building up along the base of his hips.

As soon as the contraction had passed, he collapsed back against the bed. “You’re doing good,” Five praised him with a sure nod. That praise was enough to make him feel like it was actually true. If Allison had been the one to say it then he would have half believed it because she often said things to get what she wanted and not because it was true.

The next several minutes where spent in a whirlwind of pushing and laboring as he got the baby crowned. He birthed the head only ten minutes after he had started pushing and half an hour after he had admitted that he was in labor. He should have been more embarrassed that his siblings, who were basically still strangers to him, were seeing him in such a vulnerable position, but the feelings never cropped up inside of him. Instead, he just felt welcome and safe around them.

A single strong push was all it took for his baby to slide into Grace’s waiting hands. She flipped the newborn over and then placed them down onto Viktor’s chest as they took in their first shaky breath and then began to scream. “Congratulations, Viktor! You have a beautiful baby girl,” she praised.

“A girl,” he breathed. Allison and Five were able to place his legs back down against the mattress and his entire world zoomed in on the tiny, perfect face now staring up at him from on top of his chest. He could barely pay attention to the cord being cut, the afterbirth passing, or Grace stitching him up. Even when the baby was removed from his chest so that she could be cleaned, his gaze traveled after her.

Allison worked side-by-side with her mother as she washed the baby while Grace got Viktor into another hospital bed so that the one he gave birth in could be cleaned. Five stayed by his best friend’s side the entire time, clearly brimming with questions but keeping all of them between tight lips so that he didn’t overwhelm Viktor.

He was exhausted, so he was grateful that no one was questioning him just yet. Despite how much he wanted to be home and how much being in his childhood house stressed him out, he fell asleep with his hand dipped into the clear bassinet next to him so he could feel his baby breathing steady at his side.

---

She had just finished struggling to get another sheet onto the bed to replace the one that her waters had soaked through when her mother finally returned. She felt a wave of relief overwhelm her before it was overshadowed with yet another contraction. By that point, she had been biting her lips raw and blinking her eyes furiously to try and contain the tears. When she saw her mother and then immediately had one of her pains, there was no way that she was going to be able to keep it inside.

She wanted comfort and protection and it felt like there was no way that she was going to get it. The only relief that she got from her panic was that door clicking as her father left so that he could do it whatever it was that he did with his free time. Grace finished remaking the bed and then helped her daughter back into it with a kind, patient hand. She then wrapped robotic arms around the young teenager and let Vanya sob down into her chest.

Vanya’s labor continued long into the next morning. She was able to curl against the bed and nap between the contractions as they slowly marched closer and closer to each other. She had an IV to keep herself hydrated and to administer other medication if the need arose. She wasn’t allowed anything other than ice chips to try and stave off the hunger burning low in her stomach.

There was no conversation, no music, just oppressing silence that weighed her down so that she felt like her body was turning into acid. She thought that the birth of her child was something that was going to be joyful, all of her pain and anguish finally coming to an apex when she pushed. She thought that her labor would be like her pregnancy, a dreg but eventually something that was so wonderful it would overwhelm her entire being. Instead, she felt as though she was being tortured.

Every half hour, Grace would pull up her hospital gown and then insert two fingers into her vagina so that she could tell how far Vanya had progressed in her labor. She only got an update when something had changed and not a single platitude that she was doing well. Her mind had already convinced her that she was somehow doing her labors wrong, that she couldn’t even do something that was inherent to her body correctly.

Eventually, after what felt like days, Grace moved her into a specialized bed. There were stirrups where her feet were placed so that her legs were spread and her knees were bent. “Mom, I’m scared,” she whimpered when she felt another one of the overwhelming pains that wracked through her body.

“I know that this is overwhelming, Vanya, but your body was made for this. I want you to push down like you’re trying to defecate with the next contraction, alright? I know that sounds absurd, but it’s going to bring the baby into the world in the fastest and most efficient way,” Grace explained.

It wasn’t the comfort that she wanted, it wasn’t what she needed. She felt her heart throbbing for a warm arm around her or a kiss on her forehead. The only thing that she got was the uncomfortable vinyl of the bed beneath her and the metal along her legs as they were spread. She felt like she was put on display, she didn’t even know if her father had cameras to watch what happened in that room. It wasn’t likely that he would review the tapes for her since she wasn’t exactly one of his prized possessions, but there were cameras everywhere else in their home so it wasn’t out of the question.

There was no comfort to be offered for lowly Number Seven. Simply cold materials and a robotic mother who was trying to be efficient instead of kind. She had to grasp onto the plastic sides of the bed as she leaned forward and pushed.

Her entire body felt like it was being split apart as the head of the baby made its way down into the birth canal and then began to crown. The burning was nothing like she had every felt before and she wasn’t even given any relief when the head was born. She was so exhausted after pushing for an hour and a half that she was struggling to keep her eyes open when the squalling baby was placed down onto her naked chest.

“Congratulations, Vanya. You have a baby girl,” Grace’s voice was far away when she spoke. Despite her exhaustion and the pain that she was still in, her entire world zoomed down to the tiny face. That was what she had worked so hard for, it was the potential for a life and a family that truly loved her. She would never treat her baby the way that she had been treated, she would cherish her daughter like she was the sun, moon, and stars wrapped into one tiny form.

Her arms wrapped around the newborn as she lowered her down to take a breast like the books had suggested. She couldn’t even feel the needle applying the topical numbing agent so that she could be stitched up. The only time that she came away from staring at the tiny eyes and perfect lips was when she was cleaned of blood and changed into another hospital gown before being transferred back to the same bed she had labored in.

She wanted to go back to her room so that she could rest somewhere familiar, but the clear bassinet didn’t look like it would easily move down all those stairs. She figured that there would be time to figure that out in the morning, and time to place the exact words about how she would introduce her baby to Klaus and Five. She fell asleep with her hand grasping the edge of the bassinet and words swirling through her ever-busy mind.

---

Viktor woke with a start, blinking his eyes furiously as he tried to figure out where he was. The memories rushed back to him in a second and the reality of the situation came crashing down on him all at once. “Where’s my baby?” he demanded when the door opened to show Allison.

“It’s okay, Vik, she’s right here,” she replied softly. She wheeled the clear bassinet over to her brother and then settled down beside her.

Love and adoration for the newborn overwhelmed him as he cradled her close to his body, protective and loving. “I’m never going to let you go, not ever,” he promised. “I love you, Natalya, so much.”

---

Vanya woke up feeling awful, as she had pretty much every time she had woken up in the past several months. She hauled herself slowly up and then glanced towards the clear bassinet, finding it empty. Panic shot through her as she asked, “Where’s my baby?”

“Number Seven, surely you didn’t think that you would actually get to keep it?” Reginald laughed, cold and mocking. “It was a distraction to you and your siblings. You will heal and then return to the routine as normal without speaking a word of this to anyone.”

Her heart felt hollow as the door closed and she was left alone.

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heartspurgatorio · 1 year

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(you guys should,, read my cj fanfic. I think)

#cw unreality #<-- tag for the fic jic #chonny jash #cccc #chonnys charming chaos compendium #fanfiction #writing

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lyssaturner · 1 year

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Lyssa was Cole turner's daughter. She was hanging out near a bar, trying to get information on the winchester brothers and trying to find out while they was so interested in her. Crowley had told her the previous day, to lay low because they are looking for her.

Lyssa saw the famous impala and she walked up to it. With a mischievous smirked. She stretched the car with an old key, her dad kept after she done that. She saw Dean running up to her. “what the hell is your problem!?” he yelled. Lyssa tilted her head and replied innocently “you was the one who was looking for me?". Dean rolled his eyes, “ofc, Crowley told you ”. Lyssa nodded as she shimmered away.

Should I make this in to an actual book?

#charmed 1998 #cw supernatural #dean winchester #phoebe halliwell #prue halliwell #piper halliwell #sam and dean #leo wyatt #chris halliwell #wyatt halliwell #crowley supernatural #charmed x supernatural #my oc #please give feedback #supernatural fanfic series #charmed fanfiction #katie douglas

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vidra-comprehends · 11 months

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I've been thinking about this for two years now and history just keeps repeating itself, so I need to write about the Endermen and their interior designs. Two chapters in, we are not yet at the Good Part (no Endermen so far), which should begin with the third chapter.

I suppose this is a much-needed warm-up before I start working on...other stuff winky face. So far, it's precisely 1.5K words of pessimism. Yay!

#minecraft #minecraft enderman #enderman #minecraft fanfiction #i wont list all the content warnings here as they are tagged on ao3 #cw mental health issues #oh gods real people will see this now #i am so sorry #but not sorry enough to keep it to myself apparently #eh ive posted worse things #*charms you with my minecraft villager lore*#vidrart #id in alt text #fanfiction #look for the eye

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torawro · 6 months

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I’D DIE FOR YOU (AND I HAVE). ( s.a. )

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, blank and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine her that way. using this map of the seireitei as a reference (i searched high and low for a consistent accurate one but it was hard). the first half is set pre-ryoka invasion / pre-soul society arc. the second half is aizen-centric (from his pov told from the 3rd person) and set post-tybw arc, years after he was sealed away in mugen, also including mention of events from vol. 1 of can't fear your own world (a light novel that's post-tybw & can be considered canonical); so all this being said: SPOILERS i guess???? of course you're welcome to read if you don't care about spoilers! somewhat based on 'die for you' by the weeknd & even more loosely based on 'dark red' by steve lacy. contains themes of heavy-ish angst, existential crises (?) & inner emotional turmoil within reader + aizen (separately). descriptions of character death, blood and violence. descriptions of manipulation/mind games. aizen is an unkind man. proofread (i did my best).

word count ━━ 11k

notes ━━ ! the way this fic was supposed to finished a month ago...but life once more gets in my way. and the way that it's this long....i anticipated the max being 10k but i greatly underestimated how long it would take to flesh out my idea. anywho i'm somewhat reentering my bleach era again. i’m not sure what it is but character analyses in the form of fanfiction is my jam rn like i really enjoyed writing this (i got tired of the length by like... 7k words lmao) but i like how this turned out. i've watched & read quite a bit of content that provide explanations as to why aizen is the way he is so i wanted to try my own portrayal of that in the context of canonical events. how i characterized him here is partially inspired by a fic i read about him last year so shout out to them for their support :D i hope i've depicted and humanized aizen well ♡. reblogs + commentary are heavily appreciated!!!!!

THE PAD OF YOUR THUMB SLOWLY glided against your bottom lip, the lingering aftertaste of jasmine tea still on its surface and on your breath. The absentminded motion of your thumb caressing your mouth, as if in deep contemplation, continued as you stared at the clock hanging on the wall above you.

It was past eleven, and the midnight hour only continued to draw near as time sustained its temporal march. And there you sat at your desk, floating in the limbo of your mind that was filled with hesitancy and admittedly, budding anticipation.

Your gaze lowered to the now empty porcelain cup, nothing remaining of its contents except the shriveled remnants of herbs and a few wayward drops of the brew.

Your senior comrade, captain Sōsuke Aizen, was correct in his prediction that you'd take a liking to its floral and delicate taste when he gifted you a jar full of the jasmine tea leaves as well as other ingredients.

The captain of Squad 5 seemed to be correct about a lot of things.

His intelligence and foresight, along with his kind and politely witty disposition, were qualities that you found somewhat charming, and gradually drew you closer to him.

Being the current third seat of the 9th company, your barracks and those of squad 5's were relatively close to each other's, so often you'd catch glimpses of and run into Captain Aizen on a pretty normal basis. Over the years, the conversations that bounced between the two of you expanded past the realm of formalities between a higher and lower ranking officer, and instead ranged in territories from literature, to art, to food & drink, and even to the politics of the government for which they were soldiers for.

Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that you managed to befriend a man like him. A man who seems to have mastered the balance between being a gentle soul, helpful to others, but also possessed enough refined power and skills to be named a captain within the Gotei 13.

Especially a man who wasn’t even of your own squad.

Despite the increasingly friendly relations and generally pleasant conversation, there were few moments where Aizen's words didn't feel quite. . . . real━ he didn't feel real. He spoke eloquently, often relying on figurative language to further illustrate his point and to breathe meaning into seemingly plain and meaningless words. But at times those words, his tone felt stained; stained with some substance or color you couldn't quite place. An enigmatic façade was painted over his speech, and it took too much mental capacity to try and find your own meaning in it.

So you'd often brush it off. Your over-reliance on your own reasoning that 'you weren’t able to come to a conclusion because there is no problem a conclusion could be generated from' successfully quieted your mind’s voice. You'd also frequently blame exhaustion, or your newfound hobby of watching human psychological crime shows during your off days for these subconscious ideas you had.

But you feared that the request Aizen made of you yesterday, the source of your current predicament, couldn't be blamed on any of those things. You looked at the clock again before returning to stare at your empty tea cup. For what reason could Sōsuke Aizen wish to meet you outside of the 1st division barracks? Specifically at this hour? You immediately thought of his question as uncharacteristic of him but prevented yourself from jumping to any further conclusions.

Aizen was a reasonable man, and you were sure there was a reasonable explanation.

With a final sigh of acquiescence, you stood up from your sitting position to retie your yukata before slipping a thicker, dark colored haori on top. You were unsure how cold it was this late at night or how long you'd be out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

You paused for a moment, glancing longingly at your vanity mirror a few times, clearly torn between a decision, before giving in with a soft groan. Grabbing your favorite perfume, you quickly spritzed the spray onto both your inner wrists, either sides of your neck, and stray areas on your clothes. You’d proceed to make sure your hair was in order and your lips were as moisturized and glossy as a pair of tear-filled eyes before making your way to the door and slipping on your sandals.

Meeting with a captain— with Aizen of all people— in the dead of night resembled too closely to forbidden lovers rendezvousing under a fruit tree to fulfill their desires of embracing one another, with no one but the moon as their witness. The comparison alone caused the apples of your cheeks to burst aflame with embarrassment, and you lightly chastised yourself for even indulging in such an inappropriate train of thought. Such a scenario seemed far too deluded to even be considered ‘wishful thinking’.

But those delusions still seemed to make more sense than whatever other conclusion you have yet to reach.

Making your way out of your personal quarters, you activated your shunpo technique, stealthily hopping from one rooftop to the other in an effort to make it to Squad 1 barracks quicker.

After several minutes, your mind mostly engulfed with the 'what if's', the soles of your sandals finally touched ground, and you stood a few feet away from the massive walls and bridges that connected to and from the barracks. Even at night you were able to make out the bold-printed kanji for the number 1 that was painted on the building.

When you arrived, even from a nearby rooftop, you didn't see anyone around. Feelings of confusion and worry began to creep up and flicker to life in your mind.

But, as if your thoughts were as audible, you felt a light breeze of wind behind you, a familiar sound that indicated someone had made their presence known.

Startled, you reflexively reached for your zanpakuto, when you remembered that you hadn't even brought it with you. It still laid against the wall near your bed, just where you placed it earlier when you were relieved of your duties for the day.

You didn't think you needed it necessarily if you were just going to meet with Aizen, hence why taking it with you slipped your mind.

The flickers of concern were swiftly extinguished as your brain caught up with your body upon realizing who just appeared. A relieved sigh left your lips, a breath of air that seemed to release all the tension that had a grip on your heart and wound tight within your muscles. "Ah! Good evening Captain Aizen. You caught me off guard for a moment there."

"My apologies, that was not at all my intention." The Fifth Division Captain sported a dark colored scarf, his long captain's coat and the standard shihakushō all Gotei officers were supposed to wear. In the sash around his waist resided his own sheathed zanpakuto. His tawny hair maintained its usual part but looked slightly tousled, yet still remaining so in a meticulous fashion that made it look intentional.

The state of his hair alone, and his current facial expression made Aizen look more . . . approachable if that’s how you were to describe it. There was a glint in his eyes that you had seldom seen before.

"Thank you, for making your way down here to accommodate my rather. . . . atypical request. I again extend my apologies if I have inconvenienced you in any way."

You shook your head in reply, "It's alright, I wasn't doing anything too important anyway. Just having a cup of tea and delighting myself in a book before bed."

You glanced downwards at the foot or so of space that was wedged in between the two of you. You forced away the murmurs of your lingering thoughts that took note of how the moonlight and shadows danced across the surface of Aizen's face just right, and emphasized his decidedly handsome features.

"But having a complete and good night's rest is important to be fully functional in all areas of one's performance. Wouldn't you agree?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Yes, I do agree with that sentiment."

Aizen all but hummed in acknowledgement, letting a moment of silence fill the air before speaking again.

"Shall we be on our way?"

You nodded in agreement, following him as the both of you walked about the First Division grounds. From what you could tell based on your position, your aimless nightly stroll drew you closer to where Sokyoku Hill was located. The area became increasingly more grassy and contained less buildings.

Although Squad 1 grounds weren't terribly far from either of your barracks, you still weren't sure as to why Captain Aizen wished to meet out here. Initially you thought that perhaps he was just fond of this particular scenery, but really it could have been anything.

But still, you believed Aizen always had a purpose for everything he did.

After several moments, his warm voice replaced the evening silence, vocalizing your current thoughts. “I assume you are contemplating why it is I have asked you here, and I’m afraid the reason is quite benign. Truthfully, I just wished for your company. I often go on night walks to clear my head after a long day and thought I might invite you to join me this time, and have a conversation with each other."

Your brows shifted upwards, for that was not quite the answer you were expecting. It seemed too . . . simple. “Really? You just . . . wanted to talk with me? Plainly?”

The Squad 5 captain let out a short, soft laugh at the disbelief that was painted on your face. There was an expression of fondness present in his eyes and in the light smile he offered you. “Yes, exactly. I quite enjoy our discussions actually, they’re intellectually stimulating and relatively pleasant. You crossed my mind, and before yesterday, it has been quite some time since we’ve had the opportunity to unwind and talk.”

You hummed an mhmm in agreement, tearing your eyes away from Aizen’s side profile in favor of the hem of his captain’s haori, watching how it danced in the soft breeze. It seemed to be less distracting than the way Aizen peered down at you from time to time.

"I see. I am. . . . truly flattered by your words, Captain Aizen; you're too kind. Forgive me for asking but," you took longer strides so that you could fall into step next to him━ as if to speak to him more directly, "Why at this time? To talk with me, I mean. It couldn't wait until more . . . . . conventional hours?"

He chuckled again, and answered as smoothly as if he were awaiting you to ask him that. "Unfortunately, today's tasks ran a little long today, so I had to stay at my office later than usual." The spectacled man paused for a moment, before setting his soft gaze on you, "And besides, that completely defeats the purpose of inviting you on a night stroll, doesn't it?"

You ignored the heat flaring up in your cheeks again. Your mind refused to move past the fact that you had crossed Sōsuke Aizen's mind enough times━ or the times that he thought about you were significant enough━ and highly enough to invite you into his realm and indulge in these moments with him, when he very much could have done that alone.

A tender smile appeared on your lips, more towards yourself than the man next to you. "I. . . suppose it does."

The ashen-white moon only rose higher in the sky, providing an ambiance of tranquility as the both of you talked about whatever crossed the surface of your minds. Other times, the stillness of the night did the talking, and you'd listen to the leaves, and the wind, and the crickets sing together in harmony. Gradually as you walked and the beaten path grew more narrow, your figures drew closer together, until you could feel the long sleeves of his haori brush against your own.

You hadn't noticed that the two of you eventually stopped walking and paused under a tree until Aizen struck up conversation once more. When he called out your name in that gentle, velvety voice, you swore your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The sound of your name rolled of his tongue so smoothly, the desire to hear it again grew within you.

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

"Are you satisfied with way things are at the moment?"

You stood next to him, perplexed at his inquiry due to its vague nature. "Um, what. . . . things? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking."

The wind brushed Aizen's dark ochre tresses across his face as he took a step towards you, like the breeze itself was pushing him towards you. "Hm, perhaps I should be more clear then. Are you content with being a soul reaper? Are you satisfied with being a soldier for the Soul Society?"

With your brows slightly furrowed in thought, you remained silent for several seconds and overanalyzed his every word, trying to predict where he might be steering the conversation now. The longer you thought it over, the stronger that nagging feeling from within your soul became. The one that often told you what he was asking wasn't exactly . . . it didn't quite feel . . . . .

"This feels like a prelude to another insightful discussion on Shinigami━ and by extension━ Seiretei politics." Your words cut off your own thoughts, as if your mind was trying to sweep something under the proverbial rug.

Aizen huffed in amusement, before lightly shrugging, leaving your statement definitively unanswered.

You sighed as you seriously considered his question this time. "I mean sure, I guess. I'm somewhat satisfied with my job and all of . . . this," gesturing your hands in the air around you to emphasize your point. The 5th Division Captain made another humming noise, indicating that you still had his full attention. He inched a little closer into your personal space.

The mere action caused your next words to die in your throat and a quiet chuckle resounded from his, before your thoughts revived themselves again.

"Of course things could always be better but. . . . y'know. This is just how it is." You weren't quite sure if you should voice negative opinions about the Soul Society so plainly to a senior officer, even if he was the one who asked you in the first place, so you treaded lightly.

The same plainly relaxed smile from earlier remained painted across his lips, held in his chestnut irises was an emotion akin to affection. He seemed somewhat pleased that you were expressing your thoughts with him.

“And you? Are you satisfied, Captain Aizen?” You were unable to keep the teasing endearment out of your tone as you returned his gaze, casting aside the notions of Gotei officer seating and ranks for the moment. The air seemed like it shifted━ towards what, you weren't sure of━ but it kind of made you feel like you were adrift, floating in isolation from everything else around you.

It was still hard to process that you were alone with Captain Aizen right now. . . . at night.

A low hum reverberated within his chest, contemplative in nature as he replied, “Perhaps.”

The wind whistled lowly again, erecting goosebumps on whatever part of your skin happened to catch the midnight breeze. You fought the instinctual urge to twitch towards the nearest source of heat, which happened to be Aizen. Now that would be even more wholly inappropriate than the 'lovers meeting at midnight' scenario.

The silence between the both of you was brief, but comfortable nonetheless. Once more his mellifluous voice cut through the quiet, leveled and calm, like still ocean waters.

“Come. I want to show you something,” Aizen reached his arm out towards you, your spine as straight as if someone stuck a metal rod dipped in ice water down your robes.

The captain's movements seemed steady and slow━ it had felt like time itself had hesitated for several moments. You thought he was going to . . . . well you weren't sure what he was going to do, and that's what you made you nervous.

Was he going to touch you? Cradle your cheek? Remove a stray leaf that happened to land on your head? You were left somewhat dangling in anticipation, not daring to flinch backwards because you felt it would be disrespectful or offensive. You hadn't even blinked, subconsciously fearing that this was only a very vivid daydream.

But alas, when his arm drew near it extended past your head, slightly above you, and held a small branch in his palm it like a delicate flower. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, but that breath drew short again when your gaze was eye level with his lower neck and chin.

He seemed . . . . closer.

“I think that regarding the condition of the Soul Society," Aizen began in a quiet voice, referencing his own reply to his earlier question, "and therefore my thoughts about it, is akin to this set of leaves on this branch."

Snapping out of whatever stupor you seemed to have slipped in, you exhaled softly before stepping back a bit to look at what he was talking about. In his palm he cradled a wayward branch that grew from one of the other sturdier branches of the tree. The green foliage of its arms had started to weaken and dull in color. The cold air due to the seasonal transition to autumn caused the leaves become brittle, nearing closer to the edge of death.

The sound of just how brittle they were resounded in the air when Aizen thumbed the leaves in between his fingertips, observing their texture with pity laced in his small movements.

"These leaves will fall off as it gets colder. And soon, the rest of this tree will be bare as well. When the time comes, when the right circumstances fall into place, the old die to make way and usher in the new; it's simply the way things are. I think of the Soul Society government is structured in a similar manner."

You hung onto his every word, like he were imparting crucial wisdom to you. Even though you were a bit confused on the last part, and on the connection between dying leaves and Soul Society, you still listened intently, waiting for him bridge the gap between the two.

"The Soul Society as it is now can be thought of as a season. And this particular season, this climate has remained so for several centuries. How can nature continue━ how can we continue to progress when the old have yet to be washed away by the currents of time? It defies that of nature, yes?" He directed this question at you specifically, in search of your agreement.

You nodded your head, tearing your gaze away from the branch and directed it at the grass beneath your feet. Your brows furrowed a little as you mused over Aizen's words. He gave a rather ambiguous answer before but now, his words sounded like vague displeasure and muted criticism. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, and on some fronts, you'd sometimes agreed with the 5th Division Captain. The Soul Society was far from perfect, too much emphasis on nobility and status, the government resembled too closely to an oligarchy . . . But you didn't━ wouldn't voice these thoughts, though.

Instead you hummed quietly under your breath. There was that tugging sensation again. This time it told you that there was something deeper to this conversation than meets the eye. But what could there be? Was there anything at all or were you just overthinking it?

The voice-like sensation in your soul was calling out to you, but you couldn't hear it that well or quite make out what it was saying. It's as if someone was calling out to you in a crowded room that had music playing on the speakers: you felt like if you listened hard enough you could make it out but ultimately, the result would fruitless.

"And when that happens," Aizen continued, "sometimes nature has to be gently nudged back on track to keep things moving smoothly. That may require . . . shaking the tree. Pulling a few harmful weeds from one's garden, so to speak."

"Weeds?" You echoed. You felt like you understood this analogy and therefore what he was trying to say, but at the same time you didn't. Or was it . . . . you didn't want to understand what he was implying?

Because if you were interpreting his words correctly, if he were inconspicuously comparing the higher-ups and the government itself to dying leaves and harmful plants that needed to be removed, then . . . .

"You, dear child, are a mere weed in this scenario."

Wait, what did he just━

Your thoughts were cut short when a gush of air that smelt strongly of Aizen━ warm oak, vanilla, and a kind of musk that you weren't sure how to describe but was still pleasant all the same━ brushed against your face and took you by surprise.

But there was another aroma that arose, steadily becoming more apparent alongside the increasingly painful throbbing feeling you felt in your abdomen.

It smelt metallic. And it was something that you've smelt all too many times before.

It was blood.

Your gaze that was initially narrowed in confusion lowered as it followed the source of this pain. Your eyes slowly widened in as you struggled to comprehend the blade that was currently ran through your torso.

Aizen's blade.

"Actually, instead of weeds, a more accurate and befitting analogy perhaps would be blades of grass. You unfortunately have to step on them in order to reach the weeds you want to remove."

You couldn't really focus on what the captain was saying, because your brain was still struggling to process what the hell just happened. Your hands slowly rose from their sides and shakily grazed the zanpakuto, wanting to believe that if you touched it, it would pass right through your fingers like mist. But no, the sensation of cold steel was as real as the robes you wore on your back. You only just now are processing the muffled squelching sound of his sword impaling your flesh.

You wanted to scream, to cry in pain, to vomit, to push him off━ something. But all you could do was stand there, stunned, words completely failing you. "Wh. . . . what? Why did . . . . you . . . . "

A cough replaced your attempt at a comprehensive sentence, and you tasted iron in your mouth.

Fuck....was this really happening?

"Please don't push yourself trying to talk," His voice was like an index finger to one's lips, similar to a parent's gentle caress to quiet and sooth their child, "You'll only hasten your death. And I'm sure you wish to know the reason for my killing you, yes? You'd have to be alive for that."

'Killing me?' 'My death?' The certainty that rang in his words chilled the blood in your veins, and they confirmed the one conclusion you hoped wouldn’t come true: that you were going to die.

The frigid embrace of fear and dread engulfed you from behind and you shivered, causing the blade snugly lodged in your organs to shift. The pain of that foreign object moving even a little bit shot through your entire body, causing a groan to emerge from your throat.

Desperate to conserve your energy and the oxygen that was becoming a little harder to take in, your breathing became uneven and a little wheezed. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the gaze of Captain Aizen to confirm if this was really happening or just an extremely realistic and vivid nightmare. The sight you might be greeted with could be more frightening than the actual impaling of his sword.

As if his betrayal couldn’t actually or figuratively cut you any deeper, just then there was a noise that grew louder and louder within a matter of seconds until it was almost deafening. You’ve distinguished it to be the sound of glass crackling.

Your surroundings formed cracks everywhere on its surface, like it was just an oversized window. Even on the grass you stood on, or what you thought was grass, began to crumble away.

A dumbfounded but panicked look was plastered on your face when your world literally shattered around you, the only remnants of it being you and the Captain.

What was underneath the mirage━ or you should say, the fact that it was a mirage at all━ only disturbed you and increased your perplexity.

Slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, it took a minute to process where you were, but you noticed that now the two of you stood in a formal room that looked like it was used for important meetings. The lights in the room slowly started to brighten, most likely due to motion sensors. Even with Aizen's scent lingering in your nose, you could still pick out a rather stale aroma that hung in the air like dead fruit that hadn't fallen off the tree.

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

"You are correct. Where we currently stand is the assembly hall for Central 46, the judicial power of the Soul Society. All judiciary as well as legislative trials and proceedings are held here."

All around the room were seats with partitions, the kanji for 1 through 46 printed on them. In the seat for the 19th member, your gaze caught onto something on the translucent barrier. It was a little farther up so you had to squint your already blurring vision to see it properly.

You saw, and your heart promptly sank as a result, eyes widening once more.

There were splatters of a dark colored substance on the partition━ undeniably blood. And the lithe, bony fingers of an older man laid lifeless, peeking out from the side of the screen like the appendages themselves were trying to escape from the body they were attached to.

That man . . . was dead. That stale aroma you smelt was the stench of death.

It was only after that unsettling epiphany did your eyes dart frantically around the room and realize that every member of Central 46 was dead.

The disturbed expression on your face only intensified as your stare was pulled back down to where Aizen's blade still resided in your body.

" Cap.....Aizen," you uttered, swift to correct yourself. All the moisture in your throat dried up like water underneath the unrelenting rays of the sun. You kept gulping your saliva in an attempt to assuage the sensation, but relief only last for a fleeting few seconds. "Did you ━ you killed them . . . didn't you?" Your question was laced with shaky hesitance and swelled with apprehension, fearing that you already knew his reply even before he answered.

There was a moment of silence and a hum before he replied. "Smart girl."

The muted mirthful tone in his voice sounded like sarcasm, and it was enough to finally draw your attention away from everything else and directly look at him. Almost instantly, you regretted it.

His umber tinted gaze was colder than you remembered. You couldn't find anything in his eyes that hinted that all of this was just a big misunderstanding, or a dream, or that Aizen had a secret sense dark and complex humor.

This was your first, and apparently your last time, that you have ever felt a fear such as this. Your mind was struggling to comprehend this was the same Aizen that spoke with you so gently, full of encouragement and wisdom. The same man that recommended you books to read and gifted you tea to drink and gazed upon you like . . .

Well, none of that mattered now. In this moment, Sōsuke Aizen wasn't the same man anymore. This Sōsuke Aizen was someone else, and it frightened you.

"When?" you croaked, your voice no longer sounding like your own. Nothing felt real anymore. "W-When did you . . . . . how? Why?"

Another noncommittal hum resounded from the spectacled man as he closed his eyes, feigning the action of thinking of an answer. When he reopened them, his narrow gaze returned to you.

"Everyone in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads was previously aware that the ability of my zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu, allowed me to confuse the enemy using bodies of water, mist and even moisture in the air in order to attack. However, that is not my zanpakuto's actual power; there is more to it than just simple confusion. Kyoka Suigetsu's true power is Complete Hypnosis. Essentially, when someone looks at my blade, I am then able to take control of that person’s five senses, causing them to believe that something is real ━ or that something isn't real. In a way, once glancing at my unsheathed zanpakuto, that person forfeits their sense of existence to me. Kyoka Suigetsu is quite flawless in its deceptive abilities."

A heavy silence, aside from your uneven breaths, endured in the space between both of you. You didn't need him to spell out what he was trying to say.

It was all . . . . an illusion. A convoluted, premeditated illusion. And you walked right into it without even knowing or considering, that it was all fake.

The Fifth Division Captain inwardly smiled at the despair clearly written on your face as he watched you mentally put the pieces together. He took your lack of reply as a sign to continue. "The members of Central 46 have unfortunately been dead for quite some time now. And as for your question of why......"

The taller man stepped towards you which inadvertently (or purposely, you began to fear), drove his sword deeper into your abdomen without warning and slight force. You bit down on your bottom lip hard to stifle your exclamation of pain. In an attempt to somehow resist him, with the little strength you had left, your hands automatically took purchase in his oversized sleeves, but it did nothing. You found it ironic that you could feel how warm Aizen was underneath his robes, but his soul was anything but.

" . . . . I believe I already mentioned it earlier, yes? All flowers die eventually and the weeds......must be removed."

At that moment you remembered that tugging sensation that told you something felt off in some instances whenever you talked with Aizen. This must have been what it was. Damn it all. You still didn't understand exactly what bad things Central 46 and the Soul Society have done to cause his actions, but based on what you've been told and your current position, it must have been heinous. Again, you actively swallowed the urge to vomit.

"You . . . you lied. I can't believe━ how could it have all b-been a lie?" Another nasty cough rattled your body, followed by a shiver and a groan.

The brown-haired man slightly tilted his head, like he was truly confused. "Lied? Hmm, well. I suppose you could put it that way based on your limited knowledge of the circumstances, but I wouldn't put it that way. Besides, this isn't really about truth or lies. It is, and always has been, only about the reality of what is. And what is, is that you were unable to anticipate my deception. No one could, because it was outside the domain of your thoughts. What is, is that the current way the Soul Society operates is tainted, and I shall be the one to remedy it."

You drew another shuddering breath and looked down at the ground with a grim expression as your blood continued to pool at your feet. Briefly, you even considered unsheathing yourself from his blade and take the chance to make a run for it, but the chances of you making it to the outside world, let alone coming across someone before you bled out and died were slim. Besides, it was clear that you couldn't even trust your own senses anymore after Aizen demonstrated that he had complete control of your reality.

Which reminded you of something else.

" . . . when?" you asked the same question again, but much quieter than before, despair palpable in your voice. 'When and how did you subject me to your zanpakuto's Complete Hypnosis?', is what you were really asking. And being as intelligent as he was, the spectacled man understood.

Abruptly, with a large palm on the small of your back, Aizen used his gentle hold grip to pull you towards him in order to close the remaining distance, causing him to drive the remaining length of his zanpakuto all the way through until the tsuba of his blade rested against your stomach. You looked like a skewered piece of meat.

You didn't have the willpower to hold back the piercing shriek of agony and physical anguish as tears sprung forth from your eyes. You could no longer tell if your blurry vision was due to your tears obstructing your sight or if it was from being a step away from death's door.

"Do you remember . . . the first time we met?"

The hand that rested on your lower back slowly glided upwards until his fingers found your jaw. With a tenderness that reminded you of a time before his betrayal, he lifted your chin and guided your gaze to look at him directly. His thumb moved to graze your bottom lip just as you've done mere hours ago━ as if he knew that, as if he watched you do it. His thumb was dangerously close to slipping inside your mouth and that both excited and scared you. Your breasts against his, your breaths synchronized with his, your body and his were fully pressed against each other and it made focusing on his question more difficult.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The first time . . . we met? Sure, with a little bit of effort you could easily recall the first time you formally met Aizen. It was sometime in the spring, and you remembered him running through combat formations with his lieutenant and the rest of his squad. But why d━

A silent gasp left you. Another epiphany, another figurative blade piercing your heart.

Battle formations, and he . . . offered you to join them . . . his zanpakuto . . . . .

Confusion crumbled away, and was replaced with vacant horror and sadness. It seems you've already been defeated, for many, many years now.

Aizen seemed to murmur something under his breath, a pleased sound you couldn't quite decipher. His mouth brushed over yours, rendering you literally speechless, before he closed the distance and brought your lips together. You could barely process what was happening.

It was ironically tragic how soft and skillfully gentle his lips were against yours. The kiss felt longing, like a departure between two sweethearts and their last meeting together. It also felt heavy and final, making you want to cry.

And you did. Silent tears streamed from your eyes and rolled onto the fingers that still held your face so affectionately. The captain reacted by guiding your chin up a little further, dipping his head a little lower, so he could deepen the kiss. You weakly scorned yourself for thinking about how the two of you must really look like lovers now, sans the sword sticking out from your back.

Oh, how cruel this was; how cruel he was. It was cruel for him to kiss you like this, hand still splayed on your back like he needed to touch you stay sane. And how cruel it was that still managed to enjoy it, even as you stood there dying. Your lips moved together in tandem, slow and almost passionate, all while tears stained the apples of your cheeks, drying up the plush youth that once resided in them.

Aizen's tongue had slithered its way into your mouth, and you suddenly felt like crying harder. There was a tart, sweet flavor lingering on his tastebuds, and you absently wondered what is was. Perhaps hibiscus from tea, you surmised. And he too tasted the sweet jasmine and citrus that clung your tongue and lips. At this, he chuckled quietly into your mouth, humming before retracting from you by a few inches so he could speak.

"I knew you would like the tea. It's sweet and flavorful, isn't it?" You hated how low his voice was, how its timbre pleasurably vibrated and rumbled against your lips, and you hated that lidded stare he gave you. You again thought it unfair that you couldn't even revel in the rare sight of Aizen's lips slightly wet because your lips were intertwined with his.

"I have to thank you for humoring me and my recommendations. I really appreciated it. And I also," you winced loudly and cried out in affliction as Aizen finally began to withdraw the sword from your body, "must to bid you farewell now. It seems you don't have any more time left, and this has dragged on for longer than it needed. I'm not surprised you've held out for this long, as I already knew you possessed commendable strength. But alas it wasn't enough. I am sorry that you have to die; it's rather regrettable that you happened to be that blade of grass that ended up underneath my foot."

Another wail was yanked from your chest as he steadily removed his sword from your abdomen. The pain was becoming excruciating, you would have collapsed by now if the taller man weren't holding you.

You saw two things before the light in your eyes had all but faded away. The first were the colors of faux pity and apathy that swirled in Sōsuke Aizen's irises, spiraling like a storm that was certain to wreak havoc in its wake. His gaze was devoid of any regret or remorse; the final metaphorical nail on the coffin. The second was a small smile.

But this wasn't one of his smiles you were familiar with. No wait . . . . the one you knew was simply a veneer of what is.

This smile was slanted, the corners of his lips tilted upwards and was sharp. Sharp enough to cut open your already gaping wound further and completely tear you apart, spelling out your demise. It looked insidious as if it were hiding razor-edged fangs. This was what is; Aizen's real smile.

"I. . . I see. Aize. . . ." were the last words you were able to manage. You didn't have the strength to be upset or hurt any longer, so you gave in to the exhaustion.

Your body permanently relaxed, long lashes veiling your now empty eyes as your arms lifelessly dropped to your sides. The captain found a disturbing amount of pleasure in his name being the final word you attempted to speak before succumbing to the sleep of death.

And even after the fact, the facade of doomed, star-crossed lovers persisted as your body slumped backwards. Aizen's strong forearm wrapped tightly around your waist being the only reason you didn't fall to the ground in a puddle of your own blood.

That day was the last anyone saw of you, your zanpakuto still laid idly in your room, its spirit destined to forever wander in the afterlife between worlds alone, eventually fading from existence without ever feeling the presence of its master again.

They had declared you missing by the end of the next day. Lieutenant Hisagi was probably the most perturbed about your sudden disappearance. Days, weeks passed, and they never located you. The Gotei 13 was left unsettled by the lack of progress, but ultimately had to rule your case inconclusive. Some believed that you were simply killed by a stray hollow, or even ran away from your duties because of the stress.

The news of what happened spread like wildfire across all the squads, that a high-ranked officer just up and vanished without a trace. The spirits and morale of the thirteen companies dampened, sorrow and worry swelling like a festering boil.

And that boil burst when Ryoka infiltrated the Soul Society, and when it was revealed that all of it was carefully orchestrated by Sōsuke Aizen.

Like a blade of grass that somehow snuck into one's sandals or in between their toes, during his time in Hueco Mundo, images of you flashed in his head at unexpected times when his mind was quiet. He'd remove the grass, tossed you aside, and moved on with his day. There was no room for you in the grand scheme of things. Such reminisces were beneath someone like him.

And yet.

He'd always find another piece of grass from the greenery he stepped on whenever he advanced a step in his plans. There you were again.

It was common knowledge that if you kept repeating the same action over and over, it will eventually wear you down.

━━��━━━ 鏡 ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

There had been nothing for quite a long time now. Utter darkness and the abyssal shade of black engulfed every inch of Aizen's body and surroundings.

He saw nothing, the seals over his eyes too opaque to let anything through. And even if they weren't obscuring his vision, he would barely be able to see three feet in front of him; there was seldom a few lanterns in his cell to begin with. He felt nothing but the bindings that kept him imprisoned in one of the deepest pits of the Seireitei. At times it felt like even his internal organs had stilled in their functions. He heard nothing but the unrelenting quiet of his cell within Mugen's maw. The only thing that served as proof that he hasn't spontaneously grown deaf yet was the occasional muffled noise that originated from outside of the entrance. And even then, he could hardly hear much of anything.

Such is an ironic fate for someone who, with a stray thought and a glint of his blade, could control someone's senses and take away their free will to experience those senses in their reality. And now, he was stripped away of all of his in nearly every capacity.

Sōsuke Aizen was rendered stationary and stagnant, qualities he detested and were the antithesis of his ambitions and plans, perhaps even his existence.

Aizen had always believed in being in control of your own destiny and making your own choices; if you had the opportunity and the power to change something━ especially if it was something that was wrong, unfair or immoral━ then one should be able to move towards that goal by making change, even if by force. The former captain had always been intentional about his actions and his desires right from the start.

And yet, here he ended up.

Spending years strapped to a chair in this dark, cloistered hole, Aizen had nothing but time to reflect the reason for his arrest: that orange haired Ryoka boy, Ichigo Kurosaki. He had nothing but time to admit to himself and settle on the conclusion that his last battle with the substitute Shinigami . . . did something to him.

Fighting the Ryoka boy ignited something inside him that he previously believed would forever lay dormant.

The thrill of a challenge.

Adrenaline was injected into his veins with each clash of their swords, spreading far and wide across every inch of his body. It no longer reacted in the measured, calculative manner he had programmed it to, but with unadulterated, pure instinct and raw power━ all in an effort to not only withstand such potent spirit energy from his opponent, but to come out on top and win.

It made him feel alive.

Aizen's desire to be the victor in battle and in his philosophy━ to prove himself right━ both fueled him and consumed him so thoroughly it led to his own downfall. That was a rather difficult fact to acknowledge; so much so his head started to pulsate intensely whenever it crossed his mind one time too often.

All of it unfolded right in front of his eyes and yet . . . he didn't really see it happen.

As time passed during his perpetual incarceration, with hooded eyes, the former captain spent an unfathomable amount of time tossing and turning every single event that led him to this underground prison, even pondering his temporary release by the Head Captain Kyōraku to fight in the war. Scenarios both minor and significant displayed itself in front of his mind's eye as if he were watching a film.

Every so often, a blurred visage of your image would make a brief appearance, like the flickering sparks of a match before they were able to come to light, fading away into the void and were overshadowed by his other thoughts. It was as if his own consciousness and intentionally muted any manifestations of your existence in his memories. As if he wasn't able to or allowed to see them━ to remember you for too long.

Mentally reliving moments from the last several months, years, decades, centuries━ trying to analyze each moment and decipher where it could have went wrong━ turned out to be quite an exhausting task. His mind and body would grow heavier with inertia, and eventually he would succumb to the alluring pull of slumber. After some time he would rouse from his sleep, and continued from where he left off.

These were his daily activities day in and day out (even though he had trouble distinguishing day and night in his chambers) for years. He saw a positive side to it though. He'd instead think of it has him getting stronger because he had spent so long . . . thinking. Ruminating. Contemplating every possibility in the past, present, and future. His mind would become as sharp as his zanpakuto.

Aizen had always been intentional about what he did, what he said, and how he conducted himself. He was sure in his abilities to orchestrate an image━ a belief for others to have faith in, and act on it in order to further his goals. He was always sure in that image, knowing who he was and what he stood for.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Aizen wasn't consciously aware that his certainty in this crafted image had already begun to waver. He could not and was unable to anticipate how severe these small fractures had become until after a certain lieutenant paid him a visit outside his cell of confinement, right before he was scheduled to be thrown back into that dark hole of the Mugen.

Lieutenant Shuhei Hisagi was quite emotive when he burst through the doors. His expressions were contorted in volatile mixture of frustration, anger and sadness. His emotions were every which way, directed at everything that has happened so far, including himself. He was especially emotive at Aizen specifically for what he did to former captain Kaname Tosen and 'corrupting him with his twisted ideals.'

Aizen found amusement in that.

Before he was rolled away by the punishment force and therefore out of earshot, a particular set of Hisagi's words caused the small, content smile on his lips to uncurl ever so slightly. "Everything . . . and everyone that has ever gotten themselves involved with you has been trampled on by you and your ideals one way or another, and they all end up dead. If you think what you did to Captain Tosen was justified━ to call it mercy . . . . . then there is truly no justice in this world. You will . . . forever be the enemy in my eyes."

There was a trembling anger in his voice. Pain that wanted to cry out and be set free but, the thin lid of reason prevented it from doing so. And after a moment of silence, the corners of Aizen's lips curved upwards once more. A little bemused, a little more wolfish this time. He maliciously imagined Hisagi's reaction if he ever discovered the true reason for your disappearance.

But instead, all he said was. "What an interesting thing to say, Shuhei Hisagi. Your conviction is admirable." Any evidence of emotion that might have been reflected in his sepia irises was swallowed up and obscured by the darkness of the Mugen's jaw.

The cracks in Aizen's sense of self, in his beliefs, in the image he invented started to cave under the weight of Hisagi's words before he himself realized it was happening. They were like stains in the fabric of his mind that refused to come out.

What puzzled him more, was that with each attempt to figure out just why Hisagi's words echoed in his mind, they all lead back to you, the third seat of the 9th squad. Annoyingly so.

The tattooed lieutenant hadn’t said anything particularly profound ━ at least, Aizen didn't think so. Your name didn’t even fall from his lips. So why were memories of you and your likeness the only clear thoughts he could make of Hisagi's speech? Was it because he was aware of how close the two of you were? He doubted the reason were that trivial and insignificant.

His thoughts grew more discordant by the day, his soul a little more weighted than usual. Perhaps these new seals that Urahara had fashioned actually had an effect on him, Aizen thought. It made sense. His intellect, other than his own, were the only ones capable of creating such effective restraints.

After a while, he had a revelation. This was a different kind of weight.

This heaviness, the closest word he knew to describe it as . . . . was loneliness.

Time taunted him as it seemed to drag on━ Aizen grew even less sure of how much━ when he came to this realization. Hisagi's words were a clear mirror to the loneliness that echoed within him after what happened to you and to Tosen. It was so . . . potent, that it seemed to strike some chord in Aizen he had never heard before.

Such a chord, this sound of loneliness, it was strange and uncomfortable; he wasn't very fond of this sensation. He'd try to scrub it away, but it was all for naught.

His eyes had slid shut at some point, his ruminations leading to dead ends and wearing him down. And, almost as expected, there you were again, in all your translucent glory. The hem, the sleeves, and even the smell of your yukata slowly dragged across his dreams, haunting his thoughts like a lonely wraith.

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

When he regained consciousness he was plagued with yet another epiphany. An additional reason behind this newfound depth.

Aizen's own loneliness. Guilt. Much to his own quiet horror.

How foreign and unusual a thing like guilt is. It was like looking into a mirror and not recognizing something you had never noticed before, but wondered if it had always been there.

But the thing Aizen did recognize, how lonely he actually felt, was something he had hoped would never resurface again. It was a notion he hadn't had the time or regard to consider━ 'loneliness'. Its only purpose, if any, was solely to serve as a motivator. At times though, it was more like a hindrance.

Something akin to nausea slowly started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach, but he suppressed the sensation before it became any more intense.

What of his previous actions did he need to feel guilty for? He hadn't felt it then, so why would he feel it now? Again he ruminated such a question endlessly into oblivion.

The former captain had no doubts that his plan to remove the Soul King, and therefore the Soul Society's sins, were necessary.

Nor did any hesitancy about removing the opposition or dead weight━ whether shinigami or arrancar━ existed.

He certainly had no reservations against killing Kaname Tosen, for he knew the man well enough to know that Tosen would have been so thoroughly appalled with what he had become, it would have drove him mad.

So what was it, then? Why were such useless emotions as guilt and loneliness being amplified n━

"Y....know, S....."

Even covered by the seals, Aizen's eyes widened and his brows were slightly furrowed in distress. Had his mind finally tipped the scales of sanity and madness, to the point where he was hearing things?

It was quiet for several moments longer, before his senses caught onto the sound of water dripping onto a hard surface.

One drop at a time.

Its cadence a little too rhythmic to be natural. And for a second time, he heard that soft, ominous sounding whisper. Its voice a little clearer this time.

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

In the second it took for his eyes to flutter shut behind its seals to blink, when he reopened them, he was no longer sealed to the walls and floors of the Mugen, nor was he surrounded by every shade of darkness imaginable. His limbs and senses were finally freed to breathe for the first time in what felt like ages.

That relief was short-lived when his senses absorbed the unending landscape of water underneath his feet, water lilies lifelessly floating on its surface, and the dim sky illuminated by a full pale moon.

Aizen was in his inner world, and now he was aware of how he got here, or rather who brought him here.

"You . . . already know the answer to that question, Sōsuke." The voice was even more clear, its sentences more comprehensible. And it sounded it eerily like you.

Why the voice was impersonating your likeness had caught him off guard for half a second, but he realized it was only the work of his zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu.

An illusion it may be, there was an untouchable quality about your voice and how you spoke that even Kyoka Suigetsu couldn't replicate.

A few feet away from him, the water was disturbed by a being emerging from the depths. Ripples formed around a manifested version of his zanpakuto, who took the form of you, smiling ever so gently. The smile felt airy, and it didn't seem like the same one that haunted his dreams and every waking thought as of late. It felt....knowing.

Still, the former captain couldn't be bothered to maintain eye contact with his sword spirit, so he turned around and opted to keep his unreadable stare trained on the vast expanse of water and white lilies.

"It's been quite a while since I have stepped foot into this realm. There must be something you want . . . Kyoka."

The zanpakuto chuckled, it sounded like the way you would softly laugh at one of his clever quips. But this wasn't you.

He didn’t want to admit that something about that fact didn’t sit right with him.

"Judging from your tone, would I be correct in assuming you don't want to be here?"

Silence rang out within the soul scape, before Aizen interrupted it, his gentle voice colored a shade darker, and a little rigid. "And I fail to see the reason why you must take that form when you revealed yourself to me. Is your aim to get a reaction out of me? Or something along those lines?"

Your eyes━ the eyes of Kyoka Suigetsu━ narrowed at its master's back, as if they were trying to create concavities in his skull. But the expression was washed away the moment it appeared, the serene smile from before was back in place.

"You know . . . it's considered quite rude to not look at someone when you're addressing them. That, and when you deliberately ignore things they say. Your manners have been deteriorating, Sōsuke. Tsk, tsk."

Kyoka-dressed-as-you suddenly appeared before him, as if they had teleported. Even when they were in his peripheral vision, Aizen still maintained his stare off into the distant nothingness.

"Unless, you can't find it in yourself to look at me. . . that's correct, isn't it? It's because I look exactly like her, right?" The zanpakuto continued to provoke him, taking a step closer into his personal space.

With an exasperated sigh, his eyelids fell shut for a second, using that time to gather the strength he didn't know he needed, and directed his gaze to meet his spirit's. Aizen's face gave nothing away, but his heart lurched about his chest when his bronze eyes met with yours, or what was made to look like yours. The undesired affect it had on him was all the same.

"If you wish to chastise me about manners, I suggest you take your own advice. You didn't answer my first question, either: what is it you want? Why am I here?" Again the former captain chose to not address the other parts of Kyoka's statement. For the sake of his sanity and his thinning patience━ or was it to preserve his resolve?

Its smile widened a bit, moving another step closer to their master. God, Kyoka even smelled like you, mimicking your signature honeyed scent that Aizen didn't realize he found so intoxicating until this very moment.

"I called you here to save you from yourself."

Aizen remained silent, only narrowing his eyes in speculation. "Meaning?"

"Didn't I already say it earlier? I think you already know what I'm talking about, Sōsuke. You've always known."

Fate's pairing of Kyoka Suigetsu with Aizen was a match crafted from the spindles of heaven, but also a maddening curse pulled from the depths of hell, for they complimented each other a little too well. The zanpakuto was too perfect a reflection of Aizen and his soul, looking at it started to hurt his eyes.

His sword spirit insisted that he already knew the reason for his coming here, and perhaps he did have an inkling the moment the light of epiphany was shone on his profound loneliness and guilt. But that couldn't have been what it was referring to . . . . could it?

"You cannot feign ignorance here, my dear Sōsuke, however I do find it rather humorous you bother trying. If you'd like, I don't mind humoring you by spelling it out for you. I'd be glad to unearth the truth that you have buried in the most neglected corner of your heart."

"When you were . . . . subjecting yourself to such mental torment, it had an affect on this world as well. The ripples, the waves in this scape become quite . . . tumultuous." The nuances in your voice were perfected by his zanpakuto, but the way it talked sounded like a fog that was gradually closing in from over the horizon. The uneasy feeling that resided in his chest traveled down to his stomach, but Aizen's face remained steely, even when Kyoka Suigetsu took that final step to close the gap in between them. "And the reason for that, the reason why Hisagi's words rattled you so is because you regret killing that woman."

The creased line in Aizen's brow grew more prominent as he stared down his sentient sword spirit. With its breast pressed against his, they placed a hand on his clothed chest in a tantalizing manner, but he felt nothing. There was no warmth from its palm, much unlike when your hand touched him. There wasn't even a cool sensation either. Even minutes before your death, your touch brought a soothing heat that permeated through his shihakusho and penetrated his skin.

Kyoka's face grew nearer, their smile━ although still tender looking━ grew cold at its edges, nearly resembling that of a predator eager to see despair reflected in the eyes of its prey. It didn't fit the graceful allure of your face at all, and seeing this expression deeply unsettled the former captain more than he would like to admit.

"You regret . . . killing me."

A chill tore through Aizen's body, the weight of Kyoka's words adding onto the heaviness that still hasn't been alleviated from his heart; he was hardly able to suppress the involuntary shiver.

Without warning, Kyoka's mouth suddenly became dangerously close to their master's, its lips brushing against his in a provocative manner. Aizen's expression darkened when he realized that it was reenacting his last encounter with you when you were alive. His mouth started to grow uncomfortably dry, despite his soul scape being full of moisture, and there was a taste on the back of his tongue that's been lingering there since he arrived.

The lilt in Kyoka's tone continued to taunt him. "That is the reason for your guilt: regret. You have been in denial. And in the spirit of unearthing truths, I suppose I can admit that perhaps . . . . I've been . . . . encouraging said delusions, adding drops of fuel into the flames of your emotions and ambitions. But after all that's happened, when it comes down to it there's no point in continuing this hallucination any longer. I've grown tired of this game, so it's time to for you wake up now, Sōsuke. I've brought you here to release you from your own illusion, to completely shatter it."

Aizen's back was as stiff as a board, not moving a millimeter when Kyoka's lips grazed his again. They were breathing softly onto his mouth, but he hardly felt any puffs of air.

The former captain was having a rather difficult time processing the fact that his zanpakuto had its own agenda and had been manipulating his emotions without him noticing. Specifically the emotions he felt towards you.

He never truly believed that such a thing was possible, one's own blade having such a deep-rooted influence━ no, control over their master. Or would it be more accurate to say that he never expected himself to be controlled to such a degree? He that prided himself on being freed from the marionette strings of fate that were tied to his limbs and mind, he that relished being able to do what he wanted, think what he wanted, feel what he wanted━ or what he didn't want━ it was hard to believe that none of that mattered in the end.

Kyoka Suigetsu's deceptive abilities were indeed undeniably perfect. No one, not even Aizen himself could have anticipated that Kyoka's most absolute and complete hypnosis would be enacted on himself.

"Do you know now, Sōsuke? Do you understand?" Kyoka's voice was as soft as a whisper, but it couldn't hide the edges of its tone that were still sharpened from finding amusement of seeing the truth flash across its master's face. "You had destroyed the solution to your existential question of loneliness, before you could fully understand the question itself."

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

He didn't bother acknowledging what Kyoka had said. His grim facial expression━ still, tinged with dolor, and paired with an indescribable, distant look his eyes━ said all that it needed to. His silence was as much as an admission as any.

Kyoka-dressed-as-you leaned forward again to fully close the gap between their lips and Aizen's. Tenderly, like the intentions of a lover, it spoke against his nearly closed mouth. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Nothing but quiet could be heard between them, as Kyoka's mouth moved about their master's face and placed something like kisses upon its surface, but not quite.

Aizen's cocoa-shaded eyes slide down to stare at his sword spirit pressed up against him. His gaze was hard, and yet something swam underneath its surface that his zanpakuto had never seen before. Melancholy, it guessed? They weren't quite sure.

Kyoka pressed on when Aizen remained quiet. "The taste in the back of your mouth. Have you figured out what it was? You know it quite well....."

Aizen's tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, sensing the rather unpleasant taste that has coated the inside of it. And within a moment, because he was faced with the current circumstances, Aizen had finally placed a name associated this particular taste. How unfortunate this was.

Upon his realization, Aizen's head lowered, and his brown tresses hung freely over his lashes. Perhaps it was so Kyoka couldn't properly see whatever remorseful expression painted their master's face, but it mattered not. Even from here, the sword spirit could already sense exactly what it was he was feeling.

And they loved it.

"It's a sweet and flavorful taste, isn't it? Quite lovely." Kyoka Suigetsu mimicked the exact words he uttered against your lips all those years ago when he tasted jasmine tea on your tongue, and sealed your death with a kiss. "It's too bad you don't seem to enjoy it anymore."

Aizen's chest continued to rise and fall calmly, and the hands of his sword spirit that rested there glided upwards to cup his strong jaw, caressing his skin with its thumb. Its phantasmic touch did nothing to stir their master.

"Sōsuke, do you know what the jasmine flower from that tea symbolizes?"

Aizen's lips were slightly parted, but again he didn't say anything. Instead, its corners twitched and lifted upwards by an inch, and he huffed softly.

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

The next time Aizen blinked, he was plunged in darkness yet again. The restrictive feeling that swallowed his being whole had returned, and was an indicator that his zanpakuto had released him from his inner world. He was consciously back in the Mugen, back in this abyss they called a prison cell.

Kyoka was indeed as much as a formidable force in its own right, as much as, if not greater than Aizen himself.

The conversation he had with his sword spirit would be cemented in his head for all eternity. When he grew senile and began to physically wither away, the one thing that would remain vital like a young heart, was this epiphany that he had. This realization that he actually . . . .

As the chains of despair bound him tighter to the bottom of the metaphorical pit, regret and his loneliness corroding his flesh and spirit like metal exposed to moisture, a stray memory of his time in Hueco Mundo flashed in his mind. He recalled having tea prepared for meetings with his Espadas and he could not pinpoint when, but at some point, Aizen developed an aversion for jasmine flavored tea. For one reason or another, he no longer found its taste appealing; whenever he drank it, it always tasted bitter.

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

The binding on his mouth muffled a rueful chuckle at the though, and it trapped the flavor of jasmine on his lips.

(#) @soaringmirror @stygianoir @ryukenzz @blkjupiters @chrissie2003 @nymphoheretic @dejwrld @triangularz @souyaszn @kuujo @honeybleed @valentineluvu . let me know if you’d like to be apart of my tag list ♡♡.

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shuenkio · 30 days

Text

IWALY | Jake.

Paring: Jake X M!reader | Genre: SMUT

Synopsis: Asking him did he like you even though you are both in a long time relationship is such a bad move but who knows if you're satisfied with the answer he responds.

Cw: fluff at first but purely explicit at plot. Read at your own risk 18+

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st lang.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A/N: I'm less active aren't I? Yes because of how busy life got and also gonna sleep again after this till I have more idea 😴💡.

Let's say gentle boyfriend Jake had a pretty insecure boyfriend who would ask him any random question every chance he got. M/N, who is the middle child, didn't seem to get enough love and warmth from his own parents, so having a physical touch partner like Jake was just perfect.

Also, Jake the man he is, he never get tired of you even though you're just a potato couch rat, boring human being. Jake finds you somehow endearing with your charms; that's why both of you are in a relationship right now, or maybe you just don't see it yourself? Being a cutie pie in his eyes? Coming from his schedule, Jake found you plopping on the couch, but you're not lazy; you're just battery-drained.

The house is clean, the food is cooked, and the laundry is folded. Is there anything he could complain about? No, if you don't even do it, he'd still be fine with it, maybe... Jake changes his clothes into pajamas before dragging his feet and sitting down beside you.

Lift your head up to lay on his lap since you're resting on the spot. Jake's face grew into a smile when he saw you looking a bit upset; your cuteness melted him in any way possible for the matter. He then asked about your day: how's it going? Are you tired or happy? However, the state you're in right now was too obvious for him to guess. M/N is definitely upset by something.

"Are you okay, darling?" Carelessly on your hair as he looks down to see your face with your hand busy scrolling through media. You shook your head as a no, sitting up on your buttocks before palming your face.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?"

"You... do you like me? That much!?" Response unsurely, unsurely about what's wrong with yourself with another random thought float across your mind earlier this afternoon. The question left Jake stunned, but he chuckled it out loud. He was expecting something serious, yet this. You're so puzzled.

"Well, if you want me to list every reason why I like you and why I love you, there'll be countless days to finish—do you want me to?" Flashed a handsome smile, and he then pulled you close into his chest as you pressed against him tight in this embrace. However the answer still not satisfied you enough, you pouting to it which soon noticed by Jake. The establishment relationship together almost made Jake know you better than you do, he said.

"Not enough?" He asked in a baby tone, yet deep down he was aiming for the surprise. Nodding aggressively, get your permission. He then carries you in a bridal style before heading to the bedroom.

"You'll see tonight, darling; let me answer your question in bed."

"W—hat? NOOO–"

***

Both are stripped down; both are butt-naked. While Jake was looking at you, he felt a hungry desire mixed with love. He's ready to take any responsibility for now; whatever you wished for, he'd do anything. Tonight he'll show you what love means, not just love. His cock is looking proudly at you; it's actually soaked by the undies he was wearing, which are now all over the floor.

Jake must be planning for his whole day; that's what you're thinking. Nevertheless, it was no big deal; having a love time with your trusted partner is normal, isn't it? Trust, honesty, and loyalty. You didn't care if he took your ability to walk by this night, and you'd have a taste.

" Enjoy the view, darling? Don't worry, soon it'll be inside you, but y'know what—let's get it* licking his dry lip, seductively in aroused self. The odor of phenomenal washing up filled the room. The scent is not easy, but both leave even sexual and horny asf. Letting him be, not only that, but you obviously spread the word for him by obeying.

Making Jake's thirsty cock twitching instantly. He likes it, he loves it, and he can't wait to pound you and show you the answer to your need. Soon enough, as he crawled toward you, the cold liquid of lube pressed into your hole. Without any warning, once he was right in the spot, he began to thrust in. The tightness sensation made Jake groan so much that the black pupil of his eyes was nowhere to be seen.

You're tight, squeezing on his shaft, and the tip somehow results in Jake trembling. Begging for more, of course, while your the submission; this is far more than how Jake's felt. Imagine a big ass stick moving in and out of your ass hole; wouldn't that be painfully good as fuck? Exactly. Just like they said, the most gentle man is the wildest in bed, and it's kind of true because Jake can't seem to stop the rhythm of his hip.

The balls are slapping against your back butt, making a loud, sweaty, wet sound, and so it's him fucking you. The lube really works its magic; both are seeing stars, the sound of you both fucking, even turning on even more. The orgasm later builds on yours and Jake's balls. It feels like you need to pee, but in a good way—the urge to squirt out.

"Holy fuck m/n this feel—ttoo good wuu Nghhh, I think I've got to—do you want my cum inside?" Oh man, as if he's not a wolf right now, asking for another permission just hit the spot. You must have been a good person in your last life to be the good man Jake was.

"Shit Jake, give all your fucking seed in my fucking ass. FUCK, I'M COMING." Without any control, the hot, sticky white liquid shot out. It's hot as hell; this pleasuring is everything. Coincidence makes it presence; the moaning of him fucking you like a toy fuels Jake on his edge.

He knows that this was the best orgasm or fuck he has ever had. Masturbation is just one thing, but this is seeing the galaxy. Splashing out a big load of cum inside of your walls, his huge cock squirting out uncontrollable, as you have a sensation of his hot cum on your walls. This is it; you know what's in love now. Jake itself, it's a love.

Jake's body found itself collapsing on the bed beside you, his shaft still standing hard as always. Meaning how much he's enjoying this sexual activity. The legs spread of yours also exhausted and fell down on their own, shivering and trembling from all the pounds he had finished earlier. He's definitely a 10/10 on bed; probably the thought of him when m/n first met Jake, wondering if his skill on bed is underestimated for real. Walking probably leaves you on this sheet for days, could be.

"Do I *huff* " answer your question enough, darling?"

"Shut up, you're a manic, but... yes."

"That's my boy; don't hesitate to ask me next time I satisfy your need. Just remember Iwaly, right?"

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Crd driver (lanrkives) and crd to the right owner pic.

Still developing how to write a good one .

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

Note

54 + 12 for steddie!

Okay, I know the prompt list says I'm supposed to describe how I'd use the tropes in the same story, but I got.... carried away. I just really love outsider POV

Fanfiction Trope Mashup prompts: 54. Secret relationship + 12. Roommate AU

cw: allusions to period-typical homophobia

Gladys hadn’t been sure what to make of her new neighbors at first.

She didn’t like the idea of them, to be certain: two young men living in the apartment across the way, who would probably come and go at all hours, noisy and inconsiderate as anything – especially the long-haired one she’d spotted carrying a guitar case.

A month in, however, her initial assessment doesn’t seem to have proven true; she does see them come and go at all hours, but they aren’t noisy about it, and she hasn’t heard any kind of raucous guitar playing. They seem to keep to themselves, and that suits Gladys just fine.

And then grocery day comes, and Gladys is trying to jog from the front door to the elevator before it closes, both arms loaded with bags. She spots her long-haired neighbor already in the elevator, and he spots her, and he holds the door for her before she can even call and ask him to.

He then offers to help with the bags, and Gladys unloads both of the heavy paper sacks on him with a relieved sigh; she tries to keep in shape, but she doesn’t have the strength she did when she was younger, and her joints sometimes ache like mad.

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” the man says into the silence of the elevator as they ride up to the fourth floor. “I don’t think we really introduced ourselves when we moved in, but I live across the hall from you.”

“I recognize you,” Gladys says. Then adds, “Gladys Gaines.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you officially, Miss Gladys,” Eddie says with a grin. “I’d offer to shake, but my hands are otherwise occupied.”

He shifts the grocery bags demonstratively, pretends for a moment that they’re weighing him down, though he’d been having no trouble with them until then, and Gladys finds herself smiling. “Never mind that,” she says. “And it’s nice to meet you, too.”

Eddie helps her put the groceries away, and she finds him to be charming, in an animated sort of way, bursting with energy and humor.

The sink gives him pause, though, after he ducks beneath it to put away a bottle of dish detergent as directed. He watches it drip for several consecutive seconds before asking, “Is the faucet giving you trouble?”

“It’s been driving me up the wall for weeks,” Gladys huffs as she stashes a loaf of bread in the breadbox. “But of course maintenance is taking their sweet time to get to it.”

“Huh. Y’know, Steve—my, uh, roommate—he’s pretty good at home repair stuff like this. I could get him to come take a look at it, if you want,” Eddie offers.

“If he can get that awful drip to stop, I’ll be in your debt,” Gladys says.

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at her. “Madam, that’s a dangerous thing to declare.”

“Oh, hush.” Gladys slaps at him with a dish towel, and the boy pretends to be mortally wounded.

Laughing, Gladys finds that she quite likes Eddie.

She likes Steve, too, when he shows up at her door the next afternoon with a bag of tools and a little wave ‘hello.’

“Eddie said your faucet was leaking?” he offers. “Oh– I’m Steve. From across the way.”

“I recognize you,” Gladys says, and she shows him to the kitchen.

Steve is a solid, steady presence that Gladys can imagine compliments Eddie’s high energy well; he’s boyish and sweet, but there’s something sharper underneath that reminds Gladys of her own Avery’s cutting wit.

Gladys finds out from Steve that he and Eddie are from a tiny, rural town; they’re new to city life, but they’re enjoying it even in their adjustment period. Eddie works full time while Steve works part-time and attends classes – he’s hoping to become a guidance counselor.

“That’s an unusual arrangement for roommates,” Gladys comments. “Eddie doesn’t mind taking on most of the bills?”

It’s a bit of a prying question—rude, some might say, but Gladys doesn’t see the point in getting old if you’re not allowed to be blunt—but Steve only ducks his head and smiles.

“No, Eddie’s– he’s a great guy. Helping me out like this,” he says before turning back to the sink. “Here, try it now.”

Gladys turns the faucet on, then turns it back off, watching as the flow of water comes to a complete stop, not a drip to be seen.

“Dear, you’re a miracle worker,” Gladys declares.

“It was nothing,” Steve says.

He turns away to pack up his tools, but not quite quickly enough to hide the smile on his face – pleased but a little bashful, like he isn’t used to being complimented like this. It’s a nice smile, Gladys thinks, and both Steve and Eddie are nice boys. She decides that yes, she really does like them.

Offering to pay Steve for his services seems a little tawdry, so Gladys invites the boys over for dinner, instead. They end up staying well into the evening, talking and laughing with her. Steve eats up all the gossip about the other building tenants that Gladys can dish out, and Eddie eggs them on.

When they say that they’ll have to have her over for dinner next, Gladys braces herself for the worst: the apartment of two busy young bachelors, Lord have mercy.

She’s pleasantly surprised to find, then, that it isn’t so bad at all. It’s a bit cluttered—particularly the desk shoved into the corner covered in graph paper and what appear to be tiny plastic figurines—but it’s quite clean.

After she’s offered to help with dinner and been politely denied, Gladys spends time looking at the photos they have pinned up on the wall. There are over a dozen, a collage of smiles and laugher featuring the same cast of teenagers in varying stages of growth, often posing with Steve or Eddie. There are quite a few of just Steve and Eddie together mixed in, and Gladys is warmed to see two such good friends.

Steve does most of the cooking that evening, but Eddie is a capable sous chef, anticipating Steve’s every request before he can even voice what he needs.

“Hey, can you hand me the, uh–” Steve snaps his fingers, searching for the word, and Eddie opens a drawer and presses a slotted spoon into Steve’s hand. “Yeah, that.”

Eddie grins and goes back to cutting vegetables.

Dinner is nice.

It goes on like this – trading favors here and there, dinners at one apartment or the other, evenings spent talking and laughing. Gladys finds that Eddie is an excellent opponent when playing cards, and Steve shares her fondness for Murder She Wrote.

Gladys and Avery never did get around to having children. At first, they hadn’t had the money, then they hadn’t had the time, and eventually – well, it had been too late. She’s never really regretted it—her maternal instinct isn’t a strong one—but she does find herself starting to think of these boys as hers. She even starts in on knitting some sweaters; the weather it’s getting cold, after all, and it’s the sort of thing you do when you want the people you care about to be protected from it.

It does strike Gladys as a little odd that she only ever sees them with each other; they’re both attractive young men, after all, and she can’t imagine why they don’t seem to go on dates. She’s never seen two friends as content in each other’s company as they are, but she supposes that’s really all that matters – that they’re content.

Things become clearer, however, one sleepless night months after the boys move in.

Insomnia isn’t new to Gladys; she’s dealt with it since she was young, and it seems like age has only increased the frequency of those nights she lies awake, staring at her bedroom ceiling.

She’s found her own ways of coping, over the years; she’ll fill the time with a good book or do some word puzzles or get some knitting in. If she’s feeling particularly restless, she might clean the apartment or even bake something.

She’s just considering whether or not the boys would appreciate some cinnamon rolls come morning (and whether or not it would top that loaf of cinnamon raisin bread Steve had made last week, not that Gladys is keeping track) when she hears the very subject of her thoughts come giggling down the hall.

The boys aren’t being loud, precisely, but they aren’t quiet, either, and there are fewer sounds in the night to swallow up their noise.

They sound happy – they must have had a late night out, coming home a little goofy and tipsy, talking and laughing and then shushing each other as they come to a halt, sounding close enough that they must be outside their own door, just across and to the left of Gladys’.

There’s a moment of indecision, and then Gladys is rising from her chair and crossing to the door. She feels a little silly, but the sight of a friendly face on a sleepless night can sometimes do wonders to soothe her nerves.

She’ll just pop out and say hello, a fellow after-midnighter, and then let them go.

She’s barely opened her door, however, just catching a glimpse of the boys, when something– unexpected happens.

Eddie is fumbling with his keys as Steve leans further and further into his space, and Gladys wonders if he’s drunker than he sounds, but then–

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, waiting for Eddie to look up, and it’s all the warning Eddie gets before Steve is kissing him full on the mouth.

Eddie drops his keys entirely, but it isn’t in shock so much as it is his apparent eagerness to get his hands on Steve, cupping his cheek in one and grabbing his hip with the other, pulling him closer.

This isn’t drunken fumbling – it isn’t even something new, Gladys realizes. The kiss is slow and gentle and lingering, the love in it so evident that for a moment an ache of longing, of missing Avery, rises up in Gladys’ chest.

Then, though he’d been the one to encourage the kiss, Eddie is the one to break it, and when he speaks, he’s properly quiet this time. Gladys can just barely hear him.

“Someone’s gonna see, baby.”

“Let ‘em,” Steve says, just as soft.

“Steve…”

Steve sighs, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s. “I wish I could show you off. Tell everyone how much I love you.”

Eddie in spite of his own warning, holds Steve close for a moment longer, swaying him gently. “No one else matters. I know you love me,” he says. “Come inside and show me how much?”

Glady’s can’t see Steve’s grin from this angle, but she can hear it when he says, “Yeah. I can do that.”

Then Eddie gathers his keys from the floor and actually manages to get the door open, pulling Steve in and shutting it after them and–

Well.

Gladys stands alone now, her door still cracked open, showing her the empty hallway, and–

Well.

Actually– well, actually, certain things make quite a bit more sense now.

“My, uh, roommate,” indeed.

Gladys closes her door, wandering back towards her easy chair as she thinks.

The only thing that doesn’t make sense is the two of them having the idea that they have to keep this from her. Utter nonsense.

Gladys will show them, though; her boys—and their secret—will always be safe with her.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #if I had a nickle for every time I wrote about a mlm ship from the perspective of an older widow I'd have two nickles #which isn't a lot but it's weird that I've done it twice #solar wrote #answers from solar #anonymous

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traincat · 1 year

Note

You know something I just noticed? I don't... actually like Peter Parker.

No, seriously, I like the CONCEPT of Spider-Man and yeah, he's funny at times, but... I can't actually get invested in his canon self. It's ridiculous, it feels less like he's an interesting character and more being a superhero is the ONLY way to make him interesting (I know that's the charm), but...

Like, his phrase, "With great power comes great responsability", it feels... I don't know, childish? I like that nobody's FORCING him to be a hero, but he ALWAYS finds a way to make himself feel guilty over something and his assholeness is funny, but... not necessarily healthy?

The only thing going for him is Spider-Man, which ALSO destroys his life and I know that's somewhat unintentional, but I'm kinda tired of him angsting all the time. For instance: him not killing is Noble, him comiting to his City is admirable. It also makes it so he doesn't really prioritize people unless they had a HUGE impact in him and him not killing, makes the WORST consequences imaginable at times.

Or his "I know better" catastrophic. He's a good character for sure, but... I wouldn't want to be him. Like at all, his powers are cool, yet... that's it. I like his concept more than his canonical self (hell, I prefer his FANON self), the only somewhat exception is his Lego version, but that's cause everyone's sillier.

It's that weird or something? 😶

Anon I sincerely mean no offense but there's two explanations for this ask and one is that you're trolling me and the other is that you haven't really read much Spider-Man. I'm going to assume it's the second to be nice and because you've kind of hit two points that bother me in this fandom and thrown them together in the wash: the first is people forcing themselves to like Spider-Man because they feel like they should and in the process forcing him into this little box of bland and inoffensive likability (fanon Peter) and the second is just. being wrong about basic facts about Spider-Man but assuming they're right because Spider-Man being one of the most popular IPs in the world means everyone thinks they know everything about Spider-Man based on one catchphrase and half a Raimi movie.

And it makes me feel like this.

Like this is not your fault! These assumptions you've brought into my inbox are not your fault. Spider-Man marketing is set up around making people feel like they know Spider-Man and it's a fucking problem because it means people come into a six decade long soap opera with hardline beliefs already stamped on them and it is really hard to get people to change their opinions. I know! I was there! I was one of those people! Every day I'm thankful I didn't post fanfiction when I was in my early Spider-Man days because it would make me look like such a hypocrite but also I didn't know Spider-Man until I committed to reading eight thousand comics.

"Him being a superhero is the only way to make him interesting" potentially yes because one thing about Peter Parker that canon makes abundantly clear is that without Spider-Man he is a miserable fucking bastard. Like he sucks so bad. Spider-Man unleashes a deep well of empathy and kindness in him that might have existed but would not have surfaced without his experiences as Spider-Man because it was locked behind a concrete wall of bitterness twelve feet thick.

(Amazing Fantasy #15/Sensational Spider-Man #41)

"Him not killing is noble but" you're thinking about Batman. You are thinking about Batman. Spider-Man "doesn't kill" the way I'm "not writing this post right now." Peter aims not to kill. Peter talks a whole big game about not killing. His track record on that goal is not great. I have a whole post about that here. (cw for discussions of suicide related to Spider-Man vs Wolverine.)

Like, the thing about Peter and I think this is actually one of the biggest things about Peter is that you can't take what he says about himself 90% of the time too seriously. He is NOT an unbiased narrator of his own life. He will say one thing in his own internal narration and then you will be shown something completely different and you need to trust what you see and not what he tells you.

"Gee whillickers I've never done any crime" says man who literally only does crime. (Web of Spider-Man #43)

Two things can be true simultaneously: Peter can have a no kill rule and Peter can be spectacularly bad at enforcing himself on this rule, because he is a giant hypocrite who believes in double standards for himself first and not for anyone else ever after. This is part of what makes him an interesting character -- it is not hard to push Peter over that no kill line. The character will go there. It's up to the writer, then, to keep Spider-Man's I would say unearned squeaky clean no murder image by throwing a wrench into his plans.

(ASM #595/ASM #637/ASM #542)

This is not the place for my unhinged powerpoint presentation about how Marvel has backed themselves into a corner on reversing One More Day because to do so with the appropriate narrative weight calls for Peter to kill the Kingpin. He SAID he was going to kill him. And he IS. (He just didn't say he would do it right now.)

"I wouldn't want to be like him" neither would I!! But I am going to argue that this is where Spider-Man marketing has failed everybody because, while there are certainly traits about Peter you're supposed to admire (for all I have been and will keep ragging on him he is without a doubt a bottomless well of goodness and he is one of the most deeply kind, if not nice, characters in the American pop culture landscape), whether or not you want to be a character is not a good litmus test for what makes a good character.

"With great power comes great responsibility is corny" is like. Did you know that the phrase doesn't originate with either Peter or Uncle Ben. The origin of the phrase is in the ending narration of Amazing Fantasy #15, after Peter stops himself from killing the burglar who killed Uncle Ben. It is literally Stan Lee and Steve Ditko making a point to the audience, and that point was later put in Uncle Ben's mouth. Is it corny because it's actually corny? Or is it corny because it has been so endlessly parodied by bad faith actors that its meaning has been diminished? Because all the phrase is doing is pointing out that people with more power (be it physical, economic, or societal) have a greater responsibility to those with less power than them. Because Peter has these gifts, he owes it to other people to act responsibility. You can sum up Spider-Man as a story about power and abuse: the villains abuse their power. Spider-Man is different than the villains because, though he has great power, he chooses not to abuse it. Spider-Man as a character is a distillation of Tikkun Olam, a Jewish principle that means "healing the world." "You do not have to finish the work, but you cannot abandon it." This is why Spider-Man is street level. He doesn't have to finish the work. He doesn't have to save the whole world. He just has to do what is in his power to do, every single day, and that's where the conflict comes in, because it would be easier for him to walk away, but because he has the power, and because he is an ethical man, he can't. And this concept was distilled down very, very well in "with great power comes great responsibility" because it's a very simple phrase that takes a complex ethical issue and makes it easy to understand.

"Ordinary. Saddest face I ever saw. He tries to smile, but I know it hurts. This is all for my benefit. He wants me to be okay, and he's giving me this." (Spectacular Spider-Man v2 #14)

Spider-Man is not a faceless cardboard cutout you're supposed to endlessly project on and the Disneyified marketing's insistence on that is what ends up with people insisting that a character who has remained popular in the culture for six decades has zero actual personality traits and is instead just some mirror to hold up against the viewer, letting them reflect whatever they want back on him. And it sucks.

And then I, as a person who loves canon 616 Peter and think he's one of the most complex and realistic characters ever written specifically because he is so flawed, end up writing these screeds even though I told myself I wasn't doing Spider-Man discourse any longer.

me @ myself.

But like here's the thing about the second point: you are not obligated to like any character. This has been bothering me about greater Spider-Man fandom (and adaptations) for years because I think there's this incredible push for people to like Peter Parker. There's this feeling like, yeah, you have to like this guy, because he's so popular, and because so much of the marketing is based upon everyone liking him. The truth of the matter is not every character is going to resonate with every fan and that's totally normal. But there's this idea that you have to like Peter Parker especially, because he's the relatable superhero, but no one character is going to be relatable to everyone, and in order to make him more relatable to the widest audience possible (the most desirable to advertisers audience possible) (white cis goyishe straight men ages 8-40) (who might buy a sportscar) his actual personality has to be watered down as much as possible so he can be used, essentially, as a mirror to reflect the audience, instead of as a fully developed character that the audience can empathize with if not relate to. This is why the MCU movies look like that. It's why the last few comic runs have looked like that. You are not obligated to like Peter Parker if he doesn't work for you. There is literally nothing wrong with that. But so much of Spider-Man fandom is built on people who don't like canon Peter and instead erode his personality in various ways to fit him into neat little boxes which is how we end up with fanon Peter, who resembles, in practice, what you're describing a lot more than canon Peter does. And if you like fanon Peter, that's fine. Lots of people like fanon Peter! That's why he's so widespread, because he's much easier for fans to project whatever they want to on him. That's not an insult, but an observation, because I think he serves a purpose. It's not canon Peter's purpose, and it's not a purpose I personally am interested in, which is also fine, because not everything works for every person.

Canon Peter is complicated, and he doesn't always do the most likable thing, and he has a lot of flaws, but that's what makes him interesting and so fully developed. And a fully developed character is one not everyone is going to like. There's literally nothing wrong with that.

(ASM #129)

#peter parker #traincat talks comics #long post/#*replies #i literally always say i'm not doing this anymore and then i end up screaming into the void anyway #he's a character he's a real character!!!

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angel-of-the-moons · 11 months

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A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of sleeping aids, some alcohol

A/N: For this chapter I've given Layla a helmet one for protection and two, like... I have this badass design in my head I plan on sketching out. But imagine it slides over her head like this. Also, featuring another hobby headcanon for the boys done by the lovely @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction!

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr

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Chapter 6:

Whiskey Rose

Layla put her hands on her hips as she paced back and forth on the rooftop.

"There is just no way they haven't figured it out at this point. No absolute damn way!"

Taweret sighed, her hands clasped in front of her as she refrained from smiling at Layla's frustration.

"Well, dear, we both know how--ehm--daft those boys can be, at times... It doesn't surprise me that they haven't noticed their soulmate has been living down the street from them for ages..." She said.

"Ugh!" The woman said, ruffling her hands in her curly hair. "I know that! But her? How could she possibly be so blind? She's smart! Did they not even notice that she just happens to have vegan-friendly items on the menu? Marc's favorite coffee? Steven's favorite tea?!"

Layla tossed her hands up in the air, sighing. "This is ridiculous! It could all be a coincidence, sure! But her hand! Her hand, Taweret!"

Layla grabbed the same hand that you had burned, the same hand Marc felt pain in the day you said it happened. "No way is it a coincidence on that!"

"Well yes, of course, there is that..." The goddess smiled finally, her tone even and soft so she could soothe her frustrated Avatar.

"But you can't always force soulmates to realize these things. They just have to happen naturally. Maybe because they haven't realized it yet means that they're not ready to realize it yet?"

Layla stopped in her tracks and squinted up at her.

"You said you were going to help me on this."

"I am."

"You're literally contradicting that promise by basically saying it's "not their time, yet"."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. I could just be helping in a different way."

Layla made a frustrated laugh and rubbed at her temples. "Why are Egyptian gods like this?!"

"Part of our charm, I s'pose, dear." Taweret giggled.

"Okay, okay, fine. I'll drop it for now." Layla sighed, looking up at her with a tired smile.

"But you're not off the hook for this." She warned playfully.

"Oh, but of course, my dear!" Taweret replied, her hand over her heart in a dramatic gesture. "I would never break a promise to you!"

Layla shook her head and snorted in an effort to keep down the fit of laughter that wanted to escape. She lifted her gaze and looked out on the cityscape of London, the grimy dirty streets that were teeming with life.

But also teeming with crime and cruelty. It was like lifting a rotted log; look in the right place and criminals will scatter like bugs beneath the surface.

"...I wish they boys could talk with Khonshu like I do with you. Their lives would be so much easier." She murmured, crossing her arms.

"I know, darling." Taweret sighed softly, her ears flattening in distress. "That old codger! He's so... so rough with them! I would hate to see how poor Steven gets spoken to. He's such a sweetheart!"

"Oh, trust me... Steven, when he wants to be, can be very, very, very sassy." Layla smirked playfully up at her. "From what Marc has told me, he can give as good as he can take verbally, especially to Khonshu."

"Oh? But Steven is such a doll! It's hard to imagine him saying such things." Taweret gasped in surprise. "I would love to see it if he ever does snap at the old bird, though!"

"Oh, definitely. Next time it happens? I'm having Marc spill everything. Or Steven. Whichever feels like talking."

"Oh, I'd rather be a fly on the wall next time it happens!" Taweret giggled, rocking on her heels.

She had such a cute appearance and personality, despite being a large gal, her little physical tics just served to endear her to Layla even more. She was so sweet; the only thing she was missing were tiny little glasses at the end of her muzzle and a little bonnet to complete the look of an adorable cartoon animal mum or grandmum.

"Ugh, so do I!" Layla laughed along with her, laughter finally tumbling out from where she kept it held in.

The two laugh amongst one another for a moment, until their levity dies down. After a pregnant pause, Layla looked back up at Taweret and sighed deeply.

"Well... Should you do the honors?" She asked. "But... Let's keep our suspicions about her a secret from him. Last thing we need is the old bastard using her as a bargaining chip with the boys like he tried to do with me."

"Of course." The goddess replied, giving a curt nod of her head.

She lowered her head and closed her eyes, her hands clasping in front of her once again.

When her eyes reopened, they were glowing with a soft golden light, her ears flicking about.

The moment stretched on for what felt like an uncomfortable length of time. She finally blinked and the light went away from her eyes.

She looked back at Layla and let her gaze. "He should be here momentarily. Though, I will warn you he is very cross you "took" the boys from him for the night."

"Oh, please! They need sleep! They can't go out every night and do his dirty work for him and he just expects them not to suffer from sleep deprivation!" Layla scoffed.

"I know, but he seems more angry that it wasn't brought to his attention first..."

"If that old bastard has a problem with it, he can--"

"I can what, Layla el Faouly?" Khonshu's gravelly voice rumbled out, a chill sweeping through her body.

Layla frowned and glared at him where he sat, perched on the edge of the roof, his staff resting casually against his shoulder.

"You can shove it and go get your kicks somewhere that isn't at my ex-husband and his alters' expense! Or better yet I can kick your ass!"

"I'd like to see you try, little bug." Khonshu sneered.

She knew he couldn't emote, with that stupid, dessicated skull that hovered in place of his head. But she could feel the condescending expression he surely would be fixing her with just by his tone of voice as well.

And boy, did it piss her off.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you keep trying that shit with me. I'm not Marc, or Jake, or even Steven. I will fight your bony, mummified ass!"

Khonshu stood, taking lumbering steps towards her.

"You insolent little worm. I will--"

"Do nothing. Layla is my Avatar, Khonshu." Taweret said, her tone unusually hard as she stepped between Layla and Khonshu.

Her motherly role decided to come out. And nothing was scarier in the animal kingdom, logically, than a pissed off hippo.

Let alone a pissed off hippo goddess who happened to be one of motherhood.

"You will not lay a finger on her. You are still in deep trouble with the Ennead for the stunt you pulled with the night sky, and having Jake kill Ammit and Harrow. Do you really want to push your luck by attacking another god's Avatar because you can't take a few quips?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously, a sharp glint to the normally kind and warm depths.

Khonshu leaned back a bit, turning his head with a scoff, rolling his shoulders.

"Fine. Now, tell me why you have taken my Fist from me this night. Tell me why you two kept them from performing justice on those who have harmed the innocents under my protection."

Layla had to physically bite her tongue to call him out on his hypocrisy.

"Because, Layla and I agreed we would arrange a deal with you. Whilst Layla is here in London, she will handle the dispatching of justice on those you deem need it." Taweret huffed.

"The boys need rest. You are overworking your Avatar to a dangerous degree. Lack of sleep can and will kill. Then what would you do? You can't exactly serve justice without your Moon Knight. And the time you spend looking for another deserving of the title, too many evildoers will slip through your net, yes?"

Khonshu stamped his staff on the rooftop, not speaking.

Layla smirked.

'You go, Hippo-Mama.' She thought. 'Tell that bastard what-for.'

"But you will understand that Layla will only kill if she absolutely has to. If it is absolutely necessary. Otherwise, she will leave those individuals for the authorities, understand?" She jabbed an authoritative finger at him.

Khonshu was silent for a long moment, his grip tightening on the bleached wood of his staff.

"...Very well. I agree to your terms. I will let Marc and the other two rest. For now."

"Now that all the unpleasantness is out of the way..." Taweret rubbed her hands together as she spoke. "Who do you want Layla to go after, first?"

"There are individuals tied to the trafficking group that Jake Lockley eliminated not too long ago. They will be what you start off with. They have already moved on to other groups and are already stalking their next kidnappees." Khonshu grunted.

"I want you to stop them before they move. Start at the Avernice Packing Plant. It is a front."

"Human trafficking, eh?" Layla sighed. "Disgusting. I'll help, like we promised."

"Yes, you will." Khonshu growled.

He stomped his staff twice and disappeared in a puff of mist.

Layla cracked her knuckles, "Well, let's get this done."

"Oooh, of course! You go get em, babygirl!" Taweret said, pumping her fists in encouragement.

Layla turned and stepped to the edge of the roof. Shrugging her shoulder softly, a golden and bejeweled helmet slid in place, her hair tucked safely away inside.

"Let's go save those people."

She threw out her arms, her gleaming golden wings slinging out from her sides as she leapt off the rooftop.

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For the next few days, Layla would come to visit you, chatting you up and listening to you talk. You had the feeling that something was bothering her, but you didn't want to pry. It seemed to be weighing on her a little bit.

Perhaps you'd ask about it. Later

Today, on the other hand, Layla was already there, perusing your stock for any more books she may have been missing. You were happy you had already set the kettle to boil and had the coffee freshly brewed before she arrived.

You'd given her a polite smile as you passed, carefully balancing the tray of tarts you had finished, and Layla gave you a small wave and smile in return, plucking a book off the shelf in front of her.

What you didn't expect however, was to spot a man in one of your nooks.

He sat like a dark shadow being cast; a golf cap hanging low over his forehead, raven hair slicked back beneath, a dark leather jacket and worn leather gloves made up most of his attire as he sat with his fists balled on the table, watching people walk past the windows of your shop.

Like Marc, he looked a dead ringer for Steven. But unlike Marc and Steven, this man looked absolutely miffed about something as he sat in quiet thought.

This must be the third brother. Jack, or something like that? Marc had told you about him but his name slipped your mind. He mentioned they were triplets or something like that, so... maybe...

He had dark bags under his eyes, making him look exhausted and... well... pissed about something.

You decide to forgo your usual greeting and leave the man to himself, carefully slipping the fresh treats into the display case.

Then, you turn and walk over to the counter that held the mini fridge, coffee machines, and tea kettles along with all the proper dishes you'd need to serve such things you had on your menu.

You grab the pot from the coffee machine and pour the bitter black brew into a freshly cleaned mug.

Something tells you to skip the sugar and cream, leaving it black.

You take a half a step before looking at the small drawer beneath the checkout counter.

You decided to add something after all.

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Jake sat, glaring out at the passerbys as they went about their daily lives, never the wiser about the evil creatures that walked amongst them.

The monsters that were laying in wait to pounce like a predator on their prey the moment the sun went down. The very monsters that he wanted to protect everyone from.

The very monsters Khonshu gave him bidding to hunt each night.

Except he hasn't been hunting them all night. Not as often as before. Not since Layla decided to come to London and stay for a while, taking the load off their shoulders a bit.

Jake knew Khonshu was pissed that he and the other two gave in to Layla and Taweret's urging that they rest. As much as he hated passing the reins off, as much as he hated not doing his duty, he relented. They were indeed overworked and exhausted.

It wasn't easy to go against Khonshu's will, let alone without warning him first.

But Marc and Steven welcomed the rest, even if they weren't precisely well-rested. The nights they were used to prowling the streets, they couldn't help but wander the flat. Steven would clean, or cook new things, Marc would watch recorded sports events, and Jake would sit in the recliner by the window and knit. He decided on making something for Layla, as a bit of a thanks.

He knew she didn't trust him still, not very much anyways, but she deserved to be rewarded for her hard work covering for them and trying to help. Maybe he could even knit something for Taweret...

However, their respite didn't last long. The three of them were in agreement that they didn't want Layla to bear the burdens of dispensing Khonshu's justice alone. That while her intentions were noble, she simply couldn't do it alone. She wasn't used to it like they were, and the short time she was doing it, the strain was already taking a toll on her.

So, the past few nights they'd all been up well into the wee hours, hunting criminals, fighting and defeating them together.

Jake was a bit overbearing at times, but it was only because he didn't want Layla to get hurt. Even before Marc or Steven or even Layla were aware of him, he did what he had to do to protect them. To protect her.

Like killing Harrow and Ammit.

She just didn't fully understand that he wasn't cruel, or callous. He simply knew what--

His thoughts were cut off when a mug was placed in front of him, the steaming dark contents waiting up into his nose.

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, and your sheepish smile.

"Uhm... Sorry to interrupt you. But uh. Here..?" You said to him a bit nervously.

"...Thanks." Jake muttered, taking the mug, feeling the warmth seep through his gloves.

"So, uh... You're... Er..." You tried, your expression twisting slightly.

John? Jack? Joe?

"...Jake?"

He nodded, looking back up at you, raising a dark brow in curiosity.

"Sí, I am." He told you.

You couldn't help but grin.

"So we have the Brit, the American, and the... Spaniard?" You tried to joke.

He laughed tightly, almost like dry leaves blowing in the wind. A bit chilly, but not entirely devoid of humor.

"Something like that." He said, tipping the mug to his lips. He was impressed. Most people tended to put cream, milk, or sugar in it despite his wishes. Insisting he needed flavor. It looked like you left it entirely black, for him.

Only... You didn't. He could taste it.

He pulled the mug away, looking down at the coffee and back up at you.

"...Did you put whiskey in this?"

"Well... Um. Yeah... I keep a flask under the counter for... uhhhhh... emergency... purposes..?" You saif, your sheepish smile returning.

It looked cute on you.

Jake blinked at you in shock. He reached into his pocket and fished out an old, beat up and tarnished flask.

"I... was actually going to add some of my own." He replied.

"You kinda looked like you needed it..."

Jake stared at you in shock for another moment more, his jaw clenched not in irritation at your assumption, but in an effort to keep it from dropping.

'...I think I'm in love with this woman.'

"So, um. Welcome to my shop..." You tell him, introducing yourself and the name of your store.

He repeated your name under his breath, finding that it blended well with the taste of the smokey honey whiskey and coffee he'd just sipped.

"It's nice to meet you. My... Brothers and Layla have told me about you. I'm Jake. Jake Lockley." He offered you a hand to shake in polite greeting.

After you pulled away, you noticed his sleeve ride up a bit on his wrist and spot the edges of a tattoo? Or maybe... a mark?

It wasn't any of your business... You only just met the man, after all. You pushed your curiosity aside.

"It's nice to meet you too, uh, Mister Lockley." You replied curtly.

"Ah, just Jake. Please, señorita. "Mister" just sounds awkward and too formal." He chuckled.

You giggled softly, "Er... Yeah. Sorry about that. So uhm. Are you looking for anything in particular today? Or did Layla drag you along?"

Were you... teasing him? He couldn't tell.

It takes him a moment for him to come up with something. Deciding to ignore how you might look at him, he goes for it anyway.

"I was looking into making a gift for someone." Jake said to you.

"Oh? You're looking for craft books then? Something specific?" You chirped, your eyebrows raising.

"Eh... Knitting, if you can believe that. I'm looking for patterns I haven't tried before, and I hate looking them up online. Because at the start of those stupid articles..."

"Someone writes a ten page essay about their god-forsaken childhood?" You finished with a smirk.

"Exactly." Jake grinned at you, flashing his white teeth.

"Well, I actually don't know if I have anything on knitting in particular, but I can check for you."

"Ah, gracias señorita."

It wasn't until you walked away, that he realized Layla was looking at him, a wide, shit-eating grin on her face.

His expression immediately soured as he sipped at his spiked coffee.

"What're you looking at?"

"Nothing." She hummed, opening her book to flip the pages innocently.

"I see you're reading another one of your bodice-rippers." He sneered softly, jabbing at her preferred genre of romance.

"And I see you were gawking at the store clerk." She shoots back, not looking up from her book.

"Maldita mujer tonta! I was not!" He hissed, careful not to slam the mug down too harshly.

He feels a presence envelope him, a pressing feeling like someone just sat on either side of him.

Marc's voice comes from within.

(Jake. We heard you.)

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Chapter 7: Link

#moon knight #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant #layla el faouly #soulmate au #A Rose Under The Moon

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deadly-diminuendo · 1 month

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deadly(-)diminuendo's fic masterlist

Here is my humble little collection of Astarion fanfiction.

Please note these are all explicit and intended for an adult audience.

I am also still learning to navigate Tumblr, and I am still writing new fics, so expect more updates to come!

My AO3

The Ascendant Takes a Bride | Ascended Astarion x Fem!NonTav | Post-Game | ~4.4k words

Just as you and your family are about to fall into ruin, you agree to marry the mysterious Astarion Ancunín in exchange for his promise to pay off all your debts. Attractive and charming though he is, you cannot help but to feel nervous about your arrangement. Some say he is a vampire. You have seen evidence that both supports and counters that claim. You are not sure what to believe. Finally you find yourself alone with him on your wedding night—and Astarion has some unexpected surprises in store for you.

Read on AO3 | Read on Tumblr

Sweet Dreams, Darling | Spawn Astarion x Fem!Tav | Act 3 | ~4.1k words | CW: somnophilia / cnc

An evening spent reading a racy romance novel awakens a fantasy you never knew you had. The thought of your sleeping body becoming a thing to be used for someone else's pleasure brings you an unexpected thrill. Of course Astarion catches you in the act and of course he cannot resist teasing you. But he is willing to indulge you.

Read on AO3 | Read on Tumblr

You Were My First | Spawn Astarion x Fem!Tav | Act 1 | ~3.9k words

The night he bit you, Astarion awakened something unexpected within you: desire. You offer to let him bite you again, only to receive a more scandalous offer in return. And though you have never before had a lover, you have never felt more tempted.

Read on AO3 | Read on Tumblr

You Will Know | Ascended Astarion x Fem!Tav | Post-Game | ~9k words | CW: non-con (Haarlep using Tav's form)

Every time I make love in your shape, you will know. There are two mistakes you regret more than anything. One, helping Astarion complete the ritual that changed him into someone you no longer recognize. Two, giving your body away to an incubus, an eternal pact from which you can never break free. Haarlep has begun to take your form almost every night, making it impossible to forget your pact, impossible to forget the nights you shared with the man you once loved, all while a stranger ravishes you from beyond. Only it isn’t a stranger at all.

Read on AO3 What's Next?

I am currently writing a Spawn Astarion x Fem!Tav Reader story that will most likely be two chapters, plus I have a few other ideas in the works.

#astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #masterlist

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angelseverything · 4 days

Text

Pinning Wings ~

A Yosano backstory fanfiction

Big thank you: to @arborvitaeandrogyne for being my beloved beta, @lifeiz for helping me with the banner and @sister-lucifer for the divider!

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

CW: Graphic depiction of head and neck injury • Mori is gross no way around it so DNI if that bothers you • Canon behavior • Manipulation • Emotional distress • Panic attack

Word Count: 14,020

Synopsis: She has no clue how instrumental she is to securing their victory in The Great War. This power will go far beyond what she could even think is possible, he'll make sure of it. He'll take her, indoctrinate her, to the future, his future.

Mori fought the urge to simply just get up, commandeer her and vanish. He looked down at himself. No, not like this. This situation requires a fair amount of sensitivity and prerequisites if he's going to get the ideal result. He'll need to meticulously draft up that document and get permission for this operation. Then, he’ll do his due diligence in researching Akiko Yosano’s family, history, and all the things she’ll need once they begin the assimilation process. He thought how lovely it would be to have such a charming girl stand by him. Soon enough, he'll begin the preparations.

After finishing up his tea and yokan, Mori left the money on the table and walked right out, making sure to leave behind a generous tip. It was only fair, for he was about to take something far more precious…

A/N: (Aka my take on the story of how Mori discovered Yosano and drafted her into the military). Also if you want the Ao3 link it is the chaptered version! More notes at the end of the fic :)

~A child fervently pursues the flutter of wings. Once his eyes were set on the butterfly, he wouldn't stop until he had caught it, for it was just too lovely to leave alone. The insect’s small frame undulates up and down, frantically flying for survival.~

It was his day off. A rarity for the man, however the day was not for recreation. Ougai Mori may not have been on the clock but his mind still revolved around the state of his underdeveloped special ability infantry corps. A war using abilities be damned if the ability users under his command were subpar at best. He was granted clearance to lead an experimental platoon of men to fight in close quarters combat on Tokoyamijima Island. The battles will be beginning soon. The success of their performance would determine if special abilities were to be fully integrated into the Japanese military. They needed to be exceptional. The young man was under a lot of pressure, being only 26 and already the chief medical officer meant it was his duty to order his group of men and allocate treatment depending on priority. He was the scale that weighed the difference between life and death for those he led. With the narrative of war changing before their very eyes, special abilities had completely dominated the battlefield altering what was humanly conceivable when it came to mutilating bodies, claiming territory and imposing oppression amongst populations.

A newly forming headache throbbed at his temples, for he was also due to write a regiment in document form and submit it to his Commander in Chief defending the use of special abilities. Mori knew this needed to be approved and enacted; effective immediately if they wanted to stand a chance in victory. With the Great War coming to an end and the entirety of America and Europe prowling for more power, they needed to act with twice the tact and thrice the ferocity if they wanted to evade the oncoming annihilation.

As Mori was lost in thought, his stomach churned, pulling his attention away from the ongoing war. Tea sounded nice, it was his day off after all so he decided to go on a walk. There weren’t many people out and about this early in the morning in Sakai city, where he was based. It’s better to get to know the place a little more, just in case he should need anything. With plain clothes on he strolled out. Small leaves had begun to make their return after the frigid winter months, buds poking out from the branches speckling them in light green. Song birds sat perched up top chirping out to one another in their shrill song. The spring breeze was light but chilly, just enough to pierce through a jacket, he quickly strode across the quiet street and into a local yokan shop. The little sign on the glass said open. Smirking selfishly to himself, hoping to find a cute girl to take his order and cater to his needs.

~ ~ ~

Upon walking in, a small bell attached to a string chimed cheerily signifying his entry. The shop was completely enveloped in the scent of a warm sugar and red bean paste. Decorative scrolls hung from the walls and smooth wooden paneling covered the wall behind the glass display containing all the flavors of yokan, much to Mori’s dismay the women at the front seemed to be in her fifties, likely the owner of the shop. Her dark graying hair was tied back as she looked at him with kind crinkled eyes.

“Welcome! Welcome! Come in, it's still cold out these days.” She gestured to him smiling. “I’m Yosano Satoko and I’ll be serving you today. What would you like?”

“It is, isn't it?” He mused. “I’ll have an order of mizu yokan and a small black tea.” He stated, brushing a rouge strand of inky hair to the left of his face with the back of his hand.

“Wonderful! Please have a seat wherever you’d like. I'll be there with your order shortly.”

With that he nodded his head and walked to find a place to sit. The store was rather wide, a mother feeds her squirming toddler confections close to the front, and there, by the right window, a businessman tapping away on his computer grunting in frustration as his coffee grows cold. With the intention of mulling over his options and obligations for the military he chooses a booth at the back left corner oriented towards a closed door at the front of the shop.

It suddenly swings open and a young girl carrying a big box walks out, a very young girl. She couldn't have been any older than 12. She was just… lovely. Mori’s mud colored eyes dirtily trailed her up and down. Her shiny onyx hair bobbed up and down and rested right under her chin once she finished placing the box behind the glass containing the yokan. She was adorned in a pale yellow dress with ruffles on the straps. A white apron was tied around her waist finishing with a bow in the back. Though her frame was slight and doll-like there was purpose in her walk, an urge to complete the task. Good, he thought, all young girls ought to have this much vigor. She was truly a delight to watch, such youth, such freshness… Far sweeter than any yokan being served. Wasn’t she too young to be working? Regardless, it didn’t matter to him when she was just that adorable. The older woman patted her head, but the little one was in no mood. In her swift haste to return to the room she turned and her dress fluttered behind her. Mori’s fixed gaze stalked her as she paid no mind to the patrons of the shop.To his gratification the door was left open ajar and as the girl slipped inside, he cocked his head to the left to get a better view. Happy to just idly watch her.

“Hurry Soshichi!” The girl exclaimed in a hushed yell. There was another figure there, an even smaller boy. “Finish preparing the chestnuts, we’ll need them for the syrup soon. It’s almost rush hour and mom will be busy out there with serving, so I need to be ready with the next orders of yokan when the ones in the display run out!”

“But Akikooooo!” He whined. “I don't like working with the chestnuts! The syrup always makes my hands really sticky and washing them off always takes a long time, I don't want to!”

“Shhhh! Be quiet, aren’t you ashamed? The customers outside will hear you. What will you do once we get noise complaints? I don’t want to hear it. The usual workers are out today and dad is out buying more supplies. It's all hands on deck today, so do your part! We need to help and we need to be useful.” Akiko viciously hissed. Soshichi hung his head in shame, hair shagging over his face. Both her hands were placed on her hips and her chin jutted out in annoyance. Rolling her eyes she sighed out, “You're still too little to help with the actual cooking, we don't want you to get hurt. Believe me, I promise you will be working when you're older. So just leave that to me and stick to the easy stuff yeah?” Her eyes softened. “And if you’re good I’ll let you mix the yokan paste.”

“Really!?” He gleefully piped up hopping from foot to foot.

“Yes, now go do what I said. I have to get started cooking the next mixture.” With that she disappeared deeper into the building to what seemed to be the kitchen. It was surprising how far back the room actually went.

Mori snapped out of his trance the moment Satoko Yosano appeared before him with a plate of mizu yokan and his steaming black tea.

“Here you are sir, enjoy.” Her voice a soothing hum, she bowed politely and walked away. So this was the mother of those children... Lucky woman, they seemed well in spirit.

Upon returning his gaze to the room he couldn't help but chuckle at the pure audacity from springy, young, Soshichi. He had completely abandoned his post by the chestnuts and began gathering random ingredients from the high shelves. Fully disregarding what his older sister had asked of him. Typical behavior of a youth he presumed, he’d admired how freeing the feeling is to act on your own accord regardless of what superiors ordered.

The boy climbed a creaky wooden ladder angled at the wall to reach the top shelf where a glass jar of fine white powder sat. His era of joyous rebellion was just as short-lived as his life…

In an effort to reach the jar one of his tiptoed feet lost its footing, before he could even yelp, he went plummeting down smacking his head on the table letting out a grotesque crack. His body then crashed to the ground shoulder first, his head lagging behind soon rolling to follow the sharp and sudden movement. His body lay there, contorted and broken, his fingers convulsing. Blood began to pour from the front of his head dripping onto his white shirt and denim overalls pooling around his upper body.

Mori sat there stone-faced, he'd witnessed plenty of horrors at the hospital, and myriad more in war, but this was just hapless. Foolish thing, he thought. It's one thing to act of your own accord but to put yourself in a position that you are incapable of overcoming is another. Such a shame, such a waste, to lose life this early. That child had hardly had the chance to live. Mori’s knees moved into action. He is a doctor after all, might as well take a look. He'd have to be intensely careful though, head injuries are incredibly delicate, this is a guaranteed trip to the hospital for surgery if the boy isn't dead already. He'll need to call an ambulance and prioritize vertebrae stability if they want the young boy to ever walk again but with the way his neck was oddly bent the chances of that were grim. Incredible how fatal a seemingly small fall can permanently alter the trajectory of one's life. His poor body. His poor family.

Before Mori could even make it out of the booth, the young girl bursted into the room after hearing the thud, her gaze quick and sharp. Despite the noise the fall had made, the multiple coffee machines running, humming, beeping and the high-pitched squeals coming from the toddler the sound was rather muffled. All she could do was groan at the sight before her. Groan? She just witnessed the broken bleeding body of her younger brother and she just groaned? Mori stood there in calculative silence, baffled, she then spoke up.

“Special ability, ‘Thou Shalt Not Die!” Glittering purple and blue butterflies materialized out of thin air. Soon one started glowing until it was nothing but a bright silhouette, it flew directly onto the boy's crumpled form, exploded into sparkles and lit up the room in its brilliance. Its radiant particles glimmer and dissipate into thin air. The light enveloped the boy, and as if he was a knot being untied his body began to reset exactly to the way he was before the impact. He lay there sitting in his own blood, skin shiny and soft, aside from his crimson stained clothing, there was no evidence of the injury left on his body.

“What were you thinking! What did I just tell you!?” She pinched his earlobe with her thumb in forefinger, twisting it painfully. “Don't you know how dangerous it is to reach up there at your size? I mean come on Soshichi, how hard is it to follow instructions? Don’t be such an idiot! You'll never get anywhere if you can't listen to people! And just as I had the burner going too.”

“Ah, ah! Akiko stop!” He shouted as he pathetically pawed at her wrist but his attempts were futile since she was stronger and he was still weak from the transformational healing.

“No! Clearly I need to stretch your ear out because you can't listen! I just can't even understand why you would do that after I specifically told you to focus on the chestnuts. You can't just do whatever you want whenever you want, you won't help anyone that way!”

“But I was trying to help! I was grabbing the kanten powd-”

“Stop it!” She cried out, the boy couldn’t help but shake his head and wriggle in her grip.

“The customers will hear you!” He squeaked in a last ditch attempt to free himself. She shakily exhaled and released his ear from her prison and her face began to grow red and puffy. It was then, a mixture of hot and distressed tears began to leak from her violet eyes. The horror and pressure of this moment finally catching up to her. How she hated crying in front of people.

“What if I didn't hear you fall, Soshichi? What would we do!? I don't know how much time a person can stay dead before my ability doesn’t work anymore! I don't know the limits of how much I can fix you! I've had to do it three times already and that's not okay.” She gently takes his face in her hands, her eyes pleading. Soshichi’s lips start quivering at seeing his older sister so troubled, his Akiko hardly ever cries. He quietly started to hiccup, guilt and regret making their way over his features. “I know you don’t do it on purpose but you’re stressing me out. That's not ok, Soshichi… Sometimes I feel I can't take care of everyone and I need you to do your part. Mom, dad, Haruki and Sayako need you, and I need you too... You would have died three whole times if I didn’t have this ability. What if I didn’t have it? What if I couldn’t save you? You need to think about that. Please, please, I’m begging you Soshichi. Be more careful. We can’t keep doing this.”

“I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!” He lept into her arms and his wails were dulled by her body, her arms wrapped around him and she gently rocked both of themselves back and forth on the floor where they sat, kissing the top of his head. She softly rubbed his back and shushed his whimpers comforting the both of them.

“I think it's best if you go home Soshichi. Go take a bath, I’ll clean the rest of this up.

“But Akiko-”

“No, please, just let me do this, go rest you had a long day and just…” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Think about what happened today and what you will change.”

“I-ok.” He obediently got up and grabbed his coat, putting it on to hide the stains from the accident; then he hurried away out the back door. Akiko got up, removed her soiled apron and dusted herself off. Taking a moment to steady herself, her body drew in deep breaths as she stretched her arms upwards. Soon she returned with cleaning supplies. Unsuspecting of the painfully perceptive eyes that monitored and noted this dreadful event.

Mori's eyes were completely blown-wide. What an ability… He'd never seen anything like it. “Thou Shalt Not Die” rang in his head. His mind was racing to process what he just witnessed. He thought just how correct he was to take a liking to her so soon. What an extraordinary child. Very befitting of what her name meant, “bright child”, if not her by her ability, than by her character so kind, so considerate, responsible, and feisty. It was hard to believe she was so young, incredibly well spoken, and assertive. One whose abilities and talents were wasted, no, squandered on a place like this. He needed to know more about her ability immediately, her limits, capability, drawbacks and potential. He needed to be with her, to study her. Yes. With her by his side all would be right; she was the key. He refuses to let this darling unbloomed flower grow in the wrong garden.

He leered ecstatically, this girl was exactly what he was looking for. She was the answer. with an ability like that she could keep resurrecting soldiers; they'd be, essentially immortal… He imagined just that, an immortal army created from her ability full of fighting soldiers who will just keep defying death, resurrection becoming their new code of conduct. Retreating had just become obsolete. Losing wouldn't be plausible with such an overwhelming advantage on their side. What a treat this really is, he thought. Any ability looked pathetic and meek next to hers, his own paled in comparison.

Immediately having a new idea for what he was going to write about, the “Immortal regiment” sounds fitting. He'll have to write and submit it to the Special Ability Doctrine and his words would definitely cause some heads to turn but an opportunity like this does not come so casually. He didn't care whether it was divine intervention or just folly luck but this little girl has changed the very concept of war, once again. He refuses to fall behind in history, not when there will be such a magnanimous tool at his command. In war there is no salvation. Through this brutality the United States was able to capitalize on the rest of the nations. Becoming an elitist hegemon that ravaged through taking whatever it wanted remorselessly. Using special abilities is the only way to compete as Europe began to utilize similar tactics, quickly catching on. Those who clawed their way to the top to avoid their own peril in mediocrity by abandoning the old and the faulty. Tradition has no place in the new world that thrives in bloodshed and gore. Never has. This isn’t just a tactic to avoid destruction and forge allies. No. It’s a leveraging opportunity to attain a foothold in the globe’s power system.

She has no clue how instrumental she is to securing their victory in The Great War. This power will go far beyond what she could even think is possible, he'll make sure of it. He'll take her, indoctrinate her, to the future, his future.

Mori fought the urge to simply just get up, commandeer her and vanish. He looked down at himself. No, not like this. This situation requires a fair amount of sensitivity and prerequisites if he's going to get the ideal result. He'll need to meticulously draft up that document and get permission for this operation. Then, he’ll do his due diligence in researching Akiko Yosano’s family, history and all the things she’ll need once they begin the assimilation process. He thought how lovely it would be to have such a charming girl stand by him. Soon enough, he'll begin the preparations.

After finishing up his tea and yokan, Mori left the money on the table and walked right out; making sure to leave behind a generous tip. It was only fair, for he was about to take something far more precious…

~ ~ ~

Two weeks had passed since Mori's visit. He now possessed the proper permission from the upper brass and the documents he required for this endeavor; there was only one clear goal for today and she was all he could think about.

Mori was officially on business today… It was a very early morning, still dark out as the sun hadn't fully ascended into the sky. A slender woman with blue eyes and braided blonde hair in an updo soundlessly accompanied him. She was dressed in a costume-like nurse's garb: white blouse, frilly apron and a matching headpiece overlayed a long navy blue dress. The birds had just begun to chirp and the streets were eerily quiet. The yokan shop opens at 6:00 a.m, it was Mori’s plan to arrive at 5:00 during setup, hoping to collect her before customers begin to flitter in. After looking into it, he found out that the Yosano family only has the children help on weekends, Saturday it was. Clad in his crisp soldier uniform he matched the woman’s navy one. A white armband with the red squares symbolizing medicine wrapped around his bicep and his hair was tied back. He practically marched into the store. The bell rang notifying the woman at the front who was bent over fixing something in the glass display. The man’s presence overtook the room. The little sign on the glass window wasn't even flipped to “open” yet.

“Oh my apologies, we are technically closed at the moment, feel free to come ba-” She froze, heart standing still, gazing up to see the tall soldier standing over her. Arms folded strictly behind his back and his shoulders squared. Her tone switched up immediately. “Pardon me, how may I help you?”

“Are you Yosano Satoko, the mother of Yosano Akiko?” He already knew the answer, but for legality’s sake he had to verbally confirm her parental guardians. Satoko’s eyes widened in shock at the mention of her daughter’s name. Her mind pondered the thought of having seen this man before but with so many customers in and out it was hard to keep track.

“Why yes, I am. Is there something wrong sir?” She put a hand over her mouth. “Is she in trouble? I can assure you she is a very well mannered girl-”

“Quite the contrary Mrs Yosano.” Mori chuckled. “Your daughter has been personally selected to be drafted into the Japanese military, under a fully sponsored medical scholarship.”

“Pardon? This must be a mistake… She's just a child, only eleven years old. She can’t be in the military.” Her voice was quiet and horrified at the thought.

“Ah, I can understand your confusion, allow me to fully explain-” Mori smoothly voiced with practiced persuasion.

“Hold on, I'm sorry, one moment… I-I need to get my husband” She exclaimed fearfully, motioning her hand up and down in order to pause the conversation as she disappeared into the back. Soon enough she reemerged with a man shorter than Mori but taller than her, his dark hair was balding but he compensated for it with a mustache. He was dressed in a white tank top, apron and black trousers; he had the body of a man who lifted many things in strenuous physical labor but also one of a man who never refused any treats fed to him by his wife.

“What is the meaning of this!” Bellowed the man, his round face flushing a deep angry shade of red. It was clearly visible that he was previously lifting sacks of riceflower, evident by the smears of it on his clothing and his heavy breathing. He radiated anger at being disrupted from his demanding work for a reason as bizarre as this.

“Please calm down Mr Yosano, my name is Dr. Ougai Mori-”

“I don’t give a damn what your name is! What business does the military have with our daughter?” He spat maliciously sticking out an accusatory finger at the soldier. Mori’s tone conveyed a sense of calm and collectedness.

“As I previously mentioned to your wife, your daughter, Akiko Yoshino has been drafted into the military with a full medical scholarship”.

“Drafted!? Have you lost your mind? Are you mentally deranged? That girl is a child! What could the military want with a child? How do you even know her?” He growled suspiciously, low and protective. Mori closed his eyes and sighed, mourning how easy this confrontation could’ve gone had her parents had more sense of the bigger picture.

“A report on the military’s private domain states that your daughter has a very rare healing ability, one that would be instrumental to the military. There is a new regiment being implemented regarding individuals with special talent like hers. Due to the circumstances involving the current war some priorities have shifted as the front remains dier. She could save so many lives, think of the soldiers that will get to keep fighting, and return to their families.”

“That's not her responsibility! She's just a kid, what part of that do you not understand? Children in the military are illegal. You disgust me. What parent would let their little girl in war? I refuse to let my daughter in any battle! Disgraceful, I don’t know what you boots in the army are planning but this… This is sick! You should be picking on young healthy men if you want help with the war effort. Leave my family alone!” His eyes blazed at Mori, eyes flickering to the ghostly woman beside him. His wife grabbed his arm, nodding quickly in agreement.

“My apologies, but you misunderstand me. She wouldn't be anywhere near battles, as I said this is an educational opportunity on the basis that she’ll study medicine. Nobody is more passionately protected in the military than the medics who heal. As you know the current state of the country has taken quite the hit. You should know yourself how many businesses and schools have closed from the war. This will promise her an education, her future. Despite how brutish the military may seem. All we are doing is looking for brilliant young minds with potential like hers. I can personally guarantee that she would be studying under me, her commanding officer. I’m the chief medic and I would be overseeing everything.”

There was a slight shift in Mrs Yosano’s eyes, seeing this more as an academic opportunity for her child’s future. Skeptical still as she wasn’t fully accepting of the idea.

“You mentioned that she would go on a full scholarship?” Her husband‘s face flashed an expression of betrayal momentarily but she shot him a pointed look. He knew it all too well so he stilled himself wanting to see where his wife was going with this. Mori’s lips curled into a smile. He was starting to get through to them. Good.

“Yes, the government will be covering all of her expenses including lodging, uniforms, meals, and anything else she may need. This program is unique and adequately funded.”

“Who will take care of her, you don’t seem like the type to have children of your own? She may be responsible but she’s not grown. What about the soldiers who would want to paw at her? Oh heavens so many men, away from their wives… I can’t even imagine it.” She grimaced, turning her head away. Mr Yosano held her shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Mori expecting an acceptable answer.

“I assure you she will be under my constant supervision, at all times. She won’t leave my side, ever.” He states surly, moving his right hand back to his hip, thumb grazing the leather belt that secures his gun, resting it there. “And this-” He steps to the side gesturing with his left hand toward the woman standing wordlessly next to him. “Is Elise, she will also be present as her caretaker should she need anything at all.”

“Hello, it is nice to meet you both.” Elise politely waved in greeting, bowing her head slightly, her voice soft and robotic, she stared at them with those vacant blue eyes… There was something off about her, something inhuman.

“All that’s needed of either of you is to sign these documents stating that you have given your permission to allow Miss Akiko to study with us.”

This was too much too soon. The Yosano’s looked at each other in silent agreement, they knew that there was something wrong with this program. It seemed too good to be true, too sudden, that never seemed to be a good sign. Who in their right minds would be involving children in a war? It’s shameful to think Japan would stoop so low. Of course they would want to help their country but not at the cost of their child, never at that. Yes it would be a shame for her to miss out on this educational opportunity but it makes them incredibly uncomfortable to send Akiko so far away from them, their protection, their family and home. To send her away from everything she has ever known to cold barracks and rigid untrustworthy strangers. It’s too big a risk.

Tsuyoshi Yosano didn’t like the idea in the first place. He was raised in the fields as a young boy, education never held the same place to him as hard work. He felt that Akiko doesn’t need to be involved with any of that at such a tender age or any age at all; she is best with her family, where she belongs. Satoko Yosano was unnerved by how quickly this military man came into their store and immediately knew of their daughter by some “report” but by who, how? It was making no sense, and that foreign woman, Elise. How could she let a stranger as empty as her look after her baby, no she decided she wouldn’t have it even if it was all paid for.

With all their reasoning the most important topic hadn’t been broached, how would Akiko feel about this? It’s all about what’s best for her, what she should do, but no one even told her about the life changing choices being made for her right now. She never mentioned she wanted to become a doctor, who gets to make that decision? If that’s what she wants, then she can work towards it on her own time, not like this. It’s not like the school their children attended got closed. After that brief glance between the parents that felt like eternity, it was Mrs Yosano that spoke up.

“Apologies, however Akiko won’t be participating. We understand the opportunity you’re offering her, but it is for the best that she stays with her family. This is a choice I would have liked for her to have a say in but as parents we agree on this decision. Thank you for the offer.” Her voice was clear, firm and unwavering; her husband crossed his arms and punctuated her statement with a singular nod. It was a stark contrast from how timid she was when the soldier first arrived; however after hearing his business their decision was final. Topics regarding her children were non negotiable.

~ ~ ~

“How unfortunate it is that you say that. That’s a decision that you’ll want to rethink, immediately. Believe me, I truly wanted to make this a smooth and beneficial transition for everyone, unfortunately, you lack the gravity of the situation.” He dryly chuckled, slightly shaking his head in predicted disappointment. He started, taking a few steps too close, creeping forward, concern seeped into the faces of Akiko’s parents.

“What are you saying?” Mr Yosano threatened with a scowl, narrowing his eyes. His voice resumed its pugnacious nature at the soldier’s incessant pressing. He loathed the smug sneer that edged into his face.

“Allow me to make this undeniably clear, failure to sign the papers transferring the custody of young Yosano into the military will result in the immediate arrest of both you and your wife. Your unwillingness to comply violates the Japanese Penal Code Article 95B, obstruction of military affairs is considered high treason and depending on the degree will be punished accordingly. The fact that this very operation is so critical to the war, any hindrance such as this will not be taken lightly.” He recites dipping his head to the side in feigned sympathy at their situation. “It appears your hands are tied~” A wicked grin stretched across his face at the sight of Mrs Yosano’s quiet gasp. Her trembling hand cupped the bottom half of her face. Mori was nothing if not prepared. Mr Yosano lunged forward grabbing fistfuls of Mori's uniform in his hands pulling him harshly towards him. Mori let himself get yanked, instead he coldly stared straight into his eyes, dark and unyielding.

“How dare you threaten my wife and I! I’ll report you! I’ll make sure they’ll remove all disrespectful bastards like you, now get the hell out of here!” A hot angry breath huffed out from his flared nostrils.

“I would advise you to let go, you wouldn't want to add physically assaulting and threatening a soldier to your growing list of charges.” Mori sighed, the tone shifted from smug satisfaction into something more quiet, malicious passive aggression. “Highly unlikely that the upper brass will sympathize with you due to your blatant impudence, especially with an eyewitness available.” Mr Yosano's eyes shot to the blonde woman standing there idly, a simple smile painting her face. “It’s my word against yours, the chief medical officer, or an alleged trader.” Mori stuck out his chin, his sharp unblinking eyes glared into Mr Yosano’s. “Your ignorance is so palpable it’s wrinkling my uniform and your daughter is more important than you’ll ever know. She is the very thing that can change the outcome in this war and the country will not suffer this great a loss due to your hyperactive emotional state. Besides…” His expression shifted to that of a coy predator, one mocking its prey before the carnage. “Haven’t you considered who will look after your children if you're rotting in a cell, or swinging from the gallows? According to my records, both of your parents on both sides of your families are deceased, and there is no suitable kin to take them in. Mrs Yosano has a brother but he's been arrested for two separate drug charges. I highly doubt they’ll be placed with him. What a shame.” Sighing in faux empathy, he ensures to make eye contact with both Yosano parents in his next words. “Charming ten year old Haruki, quite the budding athlete, and he seems to like going to all of his afterschool clubs too. Then there’s eight year old Sayako~, a beautiful girl. Tell me, how are her music lessons going? Picking up a new hobby is so exciting. Ah, and how could we forget rambunctious Soshichi? Six years old and so full of energy my, my, what a free spirit. How would they handle him hm? Such a pity if all these lovely children end up orphaned and alone during a time of war; where government funding to orphanages is tight and everyone is too focused on getting by rather than adopting children. You wouldn’t want them to be split up, separated, to be raised by strangers, or worse abused, would you? The painful irony is, your daughter’s future remains the same regardless of any irrational choices you make. Once you both are reprimanded, I'll simply take darling Akiko into my care, without any hassle or obstacles. It would be the both of you leaving them all homeless.” Mr Yosano’s fists shook as they unclamped their hold on his uniform falling to his sides. For the first time he was genuinely speechless, averting his eyes to the floor. Mori began to tug and fix his clothing, nonchalantly brushing any dust off.

“Take me!” Mr Yosano barked. “Leave the children out of it and take me.”

“The military has no use for you Mr Yosano.” Mori replied coldly. “The point I made about your daughter saving lives would be null if you joined in her place. That’s not how this is going to happen.”

“How could you do this!?” Mrs Yosano’s voice quivered with rage, eyes digging into him insolently. Her mind was racing; this was all happening too fast, her heart was thundering in her chest, her soul felt blackened and twisted into knots. Sweat beaded along her neck and dripped down. Her clothing felt too tight. Everything felt too tight. Ashamed and enraged she thought to herself, how could she let this happen under her watch? Just who is this poison, this devil that injected himself into their lives, lurking in every dark corner whenever they weren’t looking. Insidiously creeping up on them until it was too late. Feeling absolutely ill over how long this monster spent looking through their records spying on her children. Her children!?

“How could I do this?” Mori asked in mock incredulousness. Conceited smirk returning to his face at the fact that he won, not that he was worried. “How could your selfishness deprive your country, your military and most importantly your daughter of this opportunity? I’m doing your daughter a favor by giving her an education found nowhere else. All the things about her scholarship still stand. She’ll be a heroine. History will chant her name with victory for the things I know she will be capable of.” He ominously reached into his belt pulling out a pair of silver handcuffs… Opening them slowly, the sinister clicking echos within the room. Seeming to be the only sound audible amongst the running machines. He stalks closer. “Now, what will it be?” Before he can take another step Mrs Yosano scrambles for the papers spread on the glass counter. Frantically signing her signature. This was an impossible decision, but sending Akiko far to school is the lesser of the two evils right? This will be good for her, right? She needed to believe so.

Mr Yosano’s face contorted in pain, he was at an absolute loss. Nothing he could do would change the final outcome. He fought back tears, his wonderful, kind, sweet, innocent daughter. Oh God, how would he explain this to her? Her siblings? How could he prepare her for this when he could hardly keep himself together?

“Excellent! I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses.” He takes the documents, neatly folding them before handing them to Elise who seals them in an envelope and places it in her bag. “Now, let’s bring young Akiko out. I'd like to introduce myself before we leave.”

“You can’t. She’s not here right now. We will send her when she is good and ready.” Mr Yosano interjected, voice gruff and choked. He was trying to delay this as much as possible, to do damage control. He will not lose his daughter today. Mori hummed disappointedly, he was a patient man but his patience was thinning the longer this interaction ran.

“And here I thought you’d know better than to lie to a soldier. I know she’s here. Before I respond harshly and walk back in there and bring her out myself. I’m giving you the opportunity to do this quietly, without her siblings involved. Don’t ruin the one chance I’m offering you. I expect one of you to bring her out quickly, try to leave the building with her and the gallows I mentioned will be a reality... I understand you want your daughter to be ready but trust me the brain of a young girl like her doesn’t need preparation time. The sooner she comes with me, the faster I can get her situated and acclimated to her new life. It’s better that way.” His gaze melted into something pensive and distant. “That's the thing I love about children, fragile as they are, they're resilient, moldable. She will recover, she will adapt. They’re more mature than we give them credit for; it's how they survive.” His morals were beyond reason, it was his own line of thinking that permitted this type of detachment when impacting the lives of other people.

Mrs Yosano pivoted to go but her husband put a hand on her arm, a silent request to let him do it, she hesitated but soon obliged letting him pass. Too many thoughts on how to break the news to his beloved daughter sprinted through his fevered mind. Should he act like it's just military boarding school that will give her an edge in life or should he tell her the truth in the little time he had? Once he left the main room Mrs Yosano spoke up, she was reeling and she found it difficult to voice all her concerns.

“When will we be able to visit her?”

“You won’t be.” He stated flatly. There are many top secret government affairs taking place at the base of operations that require special clearance. By law nobody but essential personnel can be allowed inside, no exceptions. She’ll be released when I, her commanding officer, declare she’s completed her service. As it’s written on the second paper in paragraph five that you signed. Speaking of which, you will be sent a copy of the documents confirming the arrangement. The original version will remain with us, should you try to renege any forms of consent you may have previously given.”

Mrs Yosano stood in silent terror, just what did she sign? What she would give to wake up from this nightmare. Her breathing became irregular. All sound muffled as it felt like thick fabric was stuffed deep within her ear canals. Black and white worms squirm and wriggle, invading her vision. The pain in her abdomen thrummed, pulsating. She slid to the floor and sat down, feeling faint. Not only was her baby going to be shipped off to the military but they weren’t allowed to visit. She wasn’t allowed to come home unless that vile man said so…

~ ~ ~

Akiko stood in the middle of the storage room suppressing a yawn. Placing her hands on her hips, she huffed out a frustrated breath at the sight of her incompetent siblings.

“Come on guys I know it’s early but we have to get started, we’ll be opening soon! Especially you Haruki! You’re the second oldest and the only other person I trust to work over the stove.” She hastily shouted, tying a securing bow around her apron.

“Relaaax ok? It’s too early for you to be yelling at us.” He drawled, unapologetically letting out his own yawn. “Look at Sayako.” He points to the young girl with twin braids hanging in the air, head tossed over the back of the chair she sat passed out on, clearly finding it too early. “Besides, we hardly get any customers this early in the morning and we have enough stock before we run out. Chill out.” The stock in question was quickly being accessed by Soshichi already chomping down on some matcha yokan, his eager hand plunging into the box grabbing another one. Haruki narrowed his eyes, a sly competitive smile tugged at his lips. Noiselessly, he snuck up behind the thief grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around.

“You gonna pay for those pal?” He leaned into Soshichi’s face, raising his eyebrow.

“I’m actually the owner of this place.” Soshichi says with the coolness of an established entrepreneur ten times his age.

“Well then you do really bad business!” Haruki lurches his hand out snatching the uneaten yokan in Soshichi’s hand. Soshichi tried to pull his hand away but his older brother was far faster, pulling it to his lips and taking a big bite out of the sweet treat. “The last thing you need is more sugar. We can hardly keep you from bouncing off the walls already!”

“Heyyyyy! That was my breakfast, mine, you stole it! Get your own!” His voice was so shrill and whiny it rivaled that of an incredibly feral squirrel. The volume was immense enough that it woke up Sayako, who grumbled at being brought back to the land of consciousness. With small hands rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she looks up to see her brothers snacking on the inventory. Realizing she wants in on the action she pipes up.

“Oh! Oh! Can I have some too please?” She asks expectantly perched on the chair.

“Sure, if you can get over here and get some before this pig eats up everything and runs us out of business.” Her older brother teases while roughly tussling their younger brother’s shaggy bangs. Without having to be told twice Sayako hops off the chair stumbling over to get herself a piece.

“I’m not a pig! You’re a pig, so big and fat!” It was a simple joke that Haruki had said and it was meant to be just that, unfortunately Soshichi had taken high offense to his pig comment and went all in, slapping him with sticky, grubby, hands.

“Hey! Hey! I’m not fat, you're just mad you're still small and weak.” He laughs eating his yokan with one hand while swatting at Soshichi with the other. A small fit of giggles comes from Sayako as she nibbles on her yokan at the sight of her brothers fooling around.

“Weak!? I’ll show you who’s weak!” His face turned angry, red and riled up as he started to kick at Haruki. Akiko rolled her eyes watching this mess unfold, she walked in between, pushing them apart. Even having to dodge left from one of Soshichi’s kicks in the process.

“That’s it! What’s wrong with you two!? Honestly I can’t even-” She paused at the sight of the yokan being thrusted at her face, gazing at her brother in momentary shock.

“Go on, take it. You look like you need some too.” Haruki smiled, a bit cheeky, but sincere as he knew Akiko wouldn’t take any for herself. She scanned it, gaze softening, even though she knew it was probably a way to get her to shut up she grinned at being offered some. She was willing to guess that behavior like this is what kept Haruki out of trouble at school. Regardless, she decided to accept his peace offering and indulge just this once. It had been so long since she last had some. She took the piece and lifted it to her mouth, taking a small bite. The earthy flavor mixes in with the syrup balancing it out making it perfect, not too sweet. It’s flavor is mild, but it’s a reminder of home. Memories of her mother feeding it to her before she could even walk. She shakes her head smiling.

“What would you bunch ever do without me?” For a brief fragment in time everything was serene as the siblings were snickering towards each other, then suddenly, after those words, their father barged in huffing and sweating, face all flushed. Something was wrong. The kids all froze in silent horror at their seemingly aggravated father catching them red handed in eating up the yokan stock. Mr Yosano buffers at the sight of all his children devouring the store's supply, he couldn’t give any less of a damn in the state he was in. There were far more pressing matters at hand.

“Everyone except Akiko, in the kitchen now!” A pang of guilt bubbled in Haruki’s chest. His older sister was the one trying to keep everyone on schedule, she didn’t deserve this. Pushing past her he spoke up.

“Dad, it was my fault! I was the one who gave everybody the yokan! Your problem is with me!” Akiko locked eyes with him nodding her head in thanks, grateful for his willingness to take responsibility, although she felt a little bad because at least she was used to getting yelled at most of the time. Even if he was just a year younger he was still her younger brother. Usually she was the first to hear if there was something she was doing wrong or if there was a problem. Over the years of her young life she developed a high standard for behaving in order to keep the peace.

“Haruki out now!” His elevated agitated voice left no room for argument. Haruki slumped his shoulders and walked out, but not before giving his older sister an apologetic look. Soshichi lingered in the back but did not leave, nosy, he wanted to know what was going on. Sayako swung by taking his hand in hers and shuffled out of the room, effectively pulling them out and shutting the door, he complied with no complaints. Nobody wanted a part of what was about to go down. That just left Akiko alone in the room staring wide eyed at her father. Thinking what she could have possibly done to upset him so much.

~ ~ ~

Her father strode over and without any hesitation he pulled her into a bone crushing hug, pushing her face into the crook of his neck and holding her there. Akiko’s spine became stiff and rigid at the sudden gesture. Of course her dad was affectionate, but only when the occasion called for it. He was a stern and disciplined man, seeing him act with such assertive tenderness caused a sickly feeling of dread to coil in her stomach. Her heartbeat quickened at the feeling of his beating erratically against hers. Body heating up emulating the hot sticky sweat that leaked out of her dad’s pores. His grip on her let up once he heard her grunt, dead giveaway he quite literally squeezed the air out her lungs. Akiko pulled her head back, heart dropping as her weary eyes met his red rimmed ones, practically about to burst with anguish.

“I love you Akiko. Your mom and I love you so… so much.” He rasped out, murmuring it into her ear. Something was very wrong... That word was hardly ever used, once when Sayako fell severely ill but even then it was so scarce. They obviously loved one another but it was shown through actions, not words. Akiko could count all the times she’s heard it on her fingers, but her mind was puzzled nobody was hurt? Nobody was sick? What could it be?

“Dad, what's wrong? Is mom ok? Akiko’s voice radiated concern, mustering up the most logical conclusion she could think of. Her father pulled her in close and in a hushed voice spoke with urgency.

“Akiko, listen to me, we don't have much time. There is a soldier in the store. He knows about that ability of yours and is going to take you to go study medicine with him.”

“What!? I don’t want to-”

“Shh, let me finish, I’m not supposed to be telling you this but I have to.” His large calloused hands go up to cup her face rubbing soothing circles on her cheeks. “He came in demanding you. He knows us, he knows our family and we don’t know how. We don’t have a choice, believe me we did everything to get him to leave. I want you here, everyone wants you here but we don’t have a choice. But it's going to be ok. Your mom and I will take everyone to come see you and soon enough you’ll come back to us. You’re going to be ok. You’re smart and responsible. Don’t let anybody put their hands on you, or make you feel less than. Just do your best.” Akiko’s mind reeled helplessly at all of this frantic contradictory information forced on her. Who was this soldier? How does he know her family? Why does she have to go? She could feel her heart as it palpated so harshly against her ribcage she could see her own chest pulsate.

“H-How long will the school last?” She asked in a frozen daze, confusion muddling her thoughts.

“I don’t know…” They stood there within each other's embrace for a stolen moment; up until Mr Yosano’s face contorted into one of torment and regret. Soundlessly Tsuyoshi Yosano took his daughter’s small soft hand into his rough and ragged one and began to walk out of the room. Into the horrid future.

Her trepid foot falls were so quiet as she dawdled behind her father’s wide body. What deeply unnerved her was how distraught he looked, how truly afraid he was. She’d never seen him like this, he was a force to be reckoned with. Seeing him so powerless had its effect on her. Her hand began to shake in his large one at what awaited her at the front of the shop.

Upon leaving the storage room and turning right, that's when she saw her mother shakily drinking a steaming cup of tea while leaning against the glass display. Turning her head the flowy dress of a pretty blonde woman caught her eye, she looked more decorated than dressed and straight ahead… There he was, the tall, lean, soldier in his dark uniform and two coal colored strands of hair framing his face. His posture was straight and sure without any stiffness, his chin and chest stuck out as his body loomed over the rest of them. He was huge in her eyes, almost double her size. She could barely make it up to his chest and in order to look up at his face she needed to tilt her head back. It was when she got closer she could make out the details whilst peeking out from behind her father’s back. Her breaths were short and distressed, flying in rapidly from her nose. She was frightened. She was uneasy. It was the way his neck stretched to the side in order to get a better view of her. The way she felt his intense gaze consuming her whole, dragging up and down her form, assessing her. That suspicious closed lip smile that radiated pleasure coupled with an all too knowing mirth in his eyes, eyes that promised nothing but fear.

“Hello Miss Yosano, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Dr. Ougai Mori, but you can just call me Dr. Mori~” His voice had a pearly lilt to it, and his temperament contained an air of infatuation that made her shrink from behind. Stepping in closer ever so slightly, he extends a long arm giving her his white gloved hand to shake. However, Akiko was petrified in place, unmoving as her arms lay stiffly at her sides. Upon noticing her rejection of his greeting he couldn’t help but chuckle. Reminiscing on some of his old memories spent as a resident physician; terrified children clinging to their parents trying to avoid their doctors visit all together. He raises both his hands up in a disarming gesture, an effort to ease the tension. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to give you a checkup if that’s what you're worried about.” He says playfully. Akiko couldn’t keep her eyes from rolling at the comment, tightness ever so prominent in her shoulders. Noting the eye roll, he was pleased to see that even with all that fear she still exudes so much attitude. “I do believe some congratulations are in order, the people of the Japanese military have selected you to be drafted on the basis that you'll come and study medicine with me, practicing your skills, and your ability.” A brief pause overtook the room.

“What if… What if I don't want to go?” Her quiet voice filled the silence slowly but surely finding the words to speak up to that man.

“Of course you will. You were personally selected for your talents and willingness to help others. Besides young lady, when the country calls you to action, you must rise to the occasion. You're no stranger to the fact that there's a war going on. We need your help. Rest assured you won't be in the middle of any fights. You’ll be learning the trade of healing. Something that’s natural for you. I must say I'm a little envious, something that took me a decade to learn you can do in seconds. What an incredible gift. Once we leave…” He pauses to check his watch to ensure they're on schedule. “I'll explain everything in greater detail.”

“When do I get to go home?” Her question is quiet but firm.

“Go home hm?” He mused lightheartedly. “We haven't even gotten there and you're already thinking about coming back? There is so much to be done, but to answer your question you can return once I, your superior officer, officially declare that you have completed your service.” There was an unspoken way in the possessiveness of his eyes and the way they lingered on her that told everyone he had no intentions of letting her go. “Once we're alone on the plane later, I can tell you the specifics of how your routine and objectives will be laid out. I can’t do so now due to the confidentiality of this operation.”

“Wait, we're leaving today!?” She steps forward so she is beside her father, his firm hold still protectively wrapped around hand. Mori nodded with absoluteness. It should’ve been obvious to her but with how hasteful and frantic her father was it was difficult to understand. All of this was difficult to understand. God she felt so stupid. In her puzzled state she thought perhaps he just wanted to meet before the day she actually had to go, if only. She stole a glance at her parents to see their expressions, horrified to find the pure fear in them as they agreed. If it was just military schooling why do they look so distraught? Why does this soldier know about her ability when her father always told her to keep it a secret? She never used it in public. Her mind was a hurricane, chaotic and in disorder. There were too many things that didn’t line up, the way her siblings were ushered away, the soldier’s seemingly docile disposition, her parents distress, the vague implications of what she’ll be doing once she’s there, and the urgency of it all. Her brain was perceiving this array of unsettling details but what she lacked at her tender age was the cognitive ability to process all of it. Her eyes sharpened, narrowing at the force above them, heart thumping angrily. They weren’t telling her something... That conclusion made her fists shake with frustration. Especially because this was her life they were altering. She would be the one going all the way to the military leaving everything she ever knew and loved behind.

“I can see that you feel a little apprehensive, but if you could see it as-”

“No! No, I don’t want to go with you!” Her voice started to raise in volume. She was certainly nervous but with her life being tampered with she couldn’t bring herself to be mindful and polight. “There’s something that nobody is telling me and that’s not fair. You don’t get to just walk in here and take me away! You don’t get to pull me away from my life! It’s mine and I don’t care about the military or their rules! I’m not going, plain and simple. I have better things to be doing than to be going with a liar like you!” Akiko huffed out exasperated, placing her free hand on her hip and pointing her nose in the air. She had no proof of his lie but there was something in the manner of his tone that conveyed something disingenuous. She was frustrated and over it, if her parents weren’t going to say something to this pathetic soldier she would. She couldn't fathom why this guy had her father all scared, she’s seen him chase away far scarier men. She could see that he was tall but the look of him didn’t appear to be too threatening, just weird and creepy. What was that thing her dad just told her to do, right not let anyone treat her lowly; with the way this obnoxious soldier talked down to her she might as well practice those skills now.

Simultaneously, both her parents both gasped in unison. Mr Yosano felt a twinge of pride at his daughter’s ability to advocate for herself but quickly went back to concern as he didn’t want the situation to escalate. Maybe he had to hold his tongue but it was comforting to hear his girl share the same sentiment. Mrs Yosano immediately ran to Akiko’s side, mouth agape, quickly clinging to her right shoulder for both protection and support. She was beyond terrified because she’d seen what this awful man was capable of.

“I apologize on her behalf! She doesn’t quite understand what is happening and she’s very afraid. Normally, she would never act like this.” She stammers out panic stricken. Akiko angrily looks at her mom not appreciating the way she spoke for her but decides it's better not to say anything.

“Such fierce resolve~” Mori quietly let out an almost inaudible hum of delight placing his knuckles on his cheek. Her mother’s heart dropped barely hearing it herself. Did this grown man just swoon at her eleven year old daughter? That couldn’t be what she just heard. The Gods were going to have to give her strength to get through this. Every primal instinct in her body was telling her to rip him to pieces. So concerned about how the other men would react to a young girl in the barracks she hadn’t had the chance to vet out the man who would be taking her child away. Akiko looked over confoundedly, she was repulsed by the gratified expression on his face.

She was even more exquisite up close. How long had he waited for this moment? He was simply elated, even with his soldierly restraint he found it difficult to suppress his urge to beam. She clearly inherited that temper from her father, such a waste on a man like him but it suited young Akiko just fine. Mori was completely captivated by her vibrant violet eyes transfixed on scowling at him, all this attention, just on him. He could get used to that. She had her fire, fire in which he would take great pleasure in subduing and controlling. In multiple different facets, she was the perfect addition. He knew they would do much together.

“Unfortunately dear girl, the decision has already been made. You will be coming with me today. Your parents have already signed off on your departure.” He wished he had a photo of her face, so shocked and flushed, poor thing, can’t even realize the power she holds. Akiko threw her head in both directions, double taking what she had just heard the soldier correctly. She needed to see it in the eyes of her parents to confirm if this was correct.

“You signed me away! H-How could you!? You were the ones who said you didn’t want me to go!” Her voice cracked in hurt and betrayal, she was crumbling down. Hot devastated tears sprang from her eyes at the sight of her parents. All that fuss about wanting to keep her here and they willingly signed her away! Her heartbreak was so tangible it looked like she was suffering an actual heart condition with the way she gripped her chest. She despised crying and despite her best efforts to stifle it, her wails only grew louder as she processed the ramifications of this. “Why? Was I not good enough? Did I not do a good job, is that why you want me gone?” After everything that she did, why wasn’t she enough? The reality was that she was too great, too young.

If Akiko Yosano was crumbling, then her parents were decimated.

“Akiko it’s not like that at all! I promise you we did not have the choice you think we did! You’re an excellent daughter and we are proud to be your parents!” Her father could barely get his words out at the sight of his daughter reduced to this. His face contorted in agony knowing the reason as to why he couldn’t answer. Mr Yosano contained nothing but raw hatred for that wretched excuse of a soldier. Vilifying them like this in front of their own daughter, as if they’re the evil ones. Normally any child would feel a swell of pride at the words her father just spoke, especially coming from a man like him, but with the circumstance in which they were delivered Akiko couldn’t consider them as real. He tugged her closer by the hand, trying to wrap her in a hug, not letting go. She resisted though, looking up at him with tear heavy lashes.

“If there was a choice then why do you want me gone?” All her mother could do was quietly match her daughter’s tears. Hesitantly reaching out a hand to stroke her back. Her chest felt like it was being impaled by blazing hot blades. Her ribs gave off the sensation of stabbing and sharp excruciating agony as they splintered in her chest piercing her heart and inner organs alike. Akiko wanted answers, deserved answers but how could she tell her? How as a mother could she tell her child that she failed to honor her most basic job to protect and care for her? To tell her that she’s being sent away in order to save her siblings? That she was essentially an inevitable lost cause regardless. Satoko Yosano couldn’t care less about dying herself as long as it meant her children were well. Should an all mighty higher being come down and demand her life in exchange for her child’s she’d do it instantly but there were more babies of hers at stake this time. Above all else, how could she ever break the news that despite what they decided they could not save their darling Akiko from this fate, from that sick, sick man.

Mori found that this would be the proper moment to intervene; his previous comment having done its desired effect. It will be easier to adjust her to the military’s routine with the rift in trust between her and her parents. Despite their desperate pleas with their daughter, their lack of an explanation will cause a seed of doubt to grow. Taking a single step forward he bends down at the hip, not to meet her at eye level, but just so he's looming over them.

“Don't be that way, it’s quite the opposite. Your parents are doing you a great service by sending you to study with me. While your classmates will be learning the base curriculum, you’ll be participating in the saving of lives. It’s an honor to become a doctor, for both your parents and for yourself.” His expression suddenly became more serious and commanding. “You say you don’t care about the military so would you rather have soldiers die? Never to return to their families? Is that what you want?” There was a cold, disorienting silence with such a resounding effect, everyone could hear their own hearts pounding in their ears. Her face was swollen and irritable, after what just transpired between her parents and the furious rubbing she had just done to rid herself of those troublesome tears; she was left in a volatile state emotionally. All Akiko could do was swallow the thick saliva that lumped in her throat. It's not that she wanted people to die, and she definitely wanted to do right by her country but from the way his voice held a level of expectation it felt illegal to have wants of her own. She was genuinely tired of this man and his seemingly never-ending ability to spew out jargon and philosophies.

“Don’t-” Her father started but before he could even articulate the rest of his sentence Mori held up a hand to silence him. His detached eyes continued staring into hers without breaking contact.

“Miss Yosano, when your commanding officer gives you a task, you complete it. When an order is prompted to you, you obey it and when a question is asked of you, answer it. Now, I will ask you again, do you want to be responsible for the death of soldiers in our nation? Do you care so little for this country that you’re ok with being the reason their blood stains your hands? Is that what you want?” Though he wasn’t yelling, the cadence in his voice was urgent. It came out harsher than he intended but it was a necessary evil. He hoped he could ease up a bit once she understood her place in things. It would be no fun otherwise.

There were tremors of rage all over her body. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could he get her so wrong? Clearly he had no idea who she was as a person. She lived for helping people, but how else was she supposed to express her concerns without sounding like some ungrateful brat? Heaven forbid she wasn’t ready to drop everything and join a war at the ripe age of eleven. She’ll set him straight. Pushing past her crowding parents she strode right up to him bridging the gap. She jerked her head upwards to glare at him indignantly, wanting to face him head on.

“Of course not! I love my country, it’s my home! I wouldn't mind helping the soldiers but I’m sick of you making it sound like I'm a bad person! I’m not!” Slamming a hand over her heart as frustrated tears pricked her eyes. “I’m not a traitor, I didn’t choose this. How was I supposed to see this coming? I never want anyone to die. If I have to help soldiers stay alive I-I can do that.” Upon the realization of it a wave of deflation and dread swam in her insides. There is no good excuse she could possibly have to justify apathy to the fighting soldiers in her country. No matter what she could try, nothing seemed like it would work. Her own parents even signed her away for goodness sake. “If my ability can be used to save them… then I guess it's alright.” She muttered out defeated.

“Excellent~ I'm glad we're in agreement.” Without faltering he reached out and encapsulated her wrist in his hand, the one that connected her hand to her heart. “We have a fight to catch dear, I think it's best to get going, don't you hm?” His repugnant smile juxtaposed the vice-like grip he had on her small wrist.

Shoving past her worried parents to stand right before him might have been one of the worst decisions she ever made.

~ ~ ~

Akiko felt a dense ball hit the pit of her stomach, curdling all its contents inside. She went wide-eyed in shock. She should have been more careful, she should have stayed where it was safe. So caught up in proving him wrong she failed to realize it was all a ploy to get her to charge at him. She fell for it and strode right into his trap.

“Huh!? Wait, we can’t go yet I’m not ready!” She stammered out in disarray.

“Nonsense, you have everything you’ll need already at the base. The only thing that’s missing is you.” Mori said, chuckling to himself a little. She began to tug at his grip insisting he let go.

“No that’s not what I mean! Hold on, I didn’t get to say goodbye to my siblings! They don’t know! I can’t just leave them here without saying goodbye!” The tears that had dotted her eyes broke free like a flood breaking through a dam.

Everything was racing, it was hard to breathe despite the amount of air she was heaving in rapidly, she could feel her heart rate spike at the predicament she found herself in. Her parents' involvement in this was one thing but this man not letting her see her siblings again, she couldn't tolerate it. Yes they bickered and fought but in the end of the day they were her best friends, her family. They took turns bothering and taking care of one another. They celebrated each other's happiness and felt each other’s pain. How could she bear giving them this kind of pain when she wasn’t ready for it herself? In this life it was just them. They didn’t have the blessing of a large extended family, so they had to stick together, to build their own village, it would be just them when their parents inevitably pass. She was the eldest daughter after all. Who would look after them when their parents were too busy running the store? Who will keep everyone together when they’re gone? Then a devastating thought rattled into her head: they won’t have her ability… What if something happened and she wasn’t there? Earlier this month Soshichi had an accident, he was such an energetically troublesome little boy... She would never forgive herself if something happened and she wasn’t there. Her head began to pound from all these nightmares plaguing her thoughts.

“Surely she could go in for a short goodbye, even if it’s quick?” Her mother implored in an attempt to find some common ground as her and her husband approached their daughter. Mori shot them a warning glare, his eyes telling them not to come forward. Lest they want the repercussions that follow those actions. He breathed out a tired sigh and shook his head. He was disappointed, hoping the girl would forget about them while he swept her away from the chaos he created.

“You'll write to them.” It was a blatant lie as his true intention is to keep her so incredibly busy with the war and her ability that gradually she’ll lose the will to keep writing to them. Why would she want to trouble her family with such violence and agony? It would be for the best to leave her family out of it; they live in a different world than she ever will “Besides, you wouldn't want to stress them out with this would you? Your siblings are rather young and I don't think they'd understand the responsibilities you have to look after. There's no need to feel this way, you're acting like you’ve been selected to become a hitobashira. What you have been chosen for is an enormous privilege, all great people make sacrifices.”

“Well I’m not that great! I don’t care how smart you think you are but you need to get that out of your fat head!” She shrieked at her limit, sobs racked her small frame as she shook with affliction. She was incredibly overwhelmed and far too exhausted: it was 5:47 am after all. Her head was throbbing and her throat burned from dehydration.

She was writhing in his hold, twisting and squirming in an effort to free herself. Deep down subconsciously she knew that this wasn't going to achieve anything but at the same time what else could she do to show how upset she was. In a situation where her choice was never an option this was the only thing she could do. As much as she felt that this was such an embarrassing display she couldn’t help or control anymore. Although she loathed to admit he had a point. She wouldn’t want to trouble them with this. Was it that selfish of her to need them too, to rely on them for some support in the same way she would give them reassurance and comfort? The very thought of never seeing them again is what kept reducing her to this state, that is what lit the fire in her soul to keep resisting.

“Don't be afraid.” The first thing Akiko felt was a new pair of hands holding on to her left arm. When she turned her head she found that blonde woman, Elise, at her side. She winced at Elise's smile, so sweetly artificial it was sickening. She tried to tug away but with no success, grunting and breathing in sharply as she sniffled.

“Miss Yosano.” His voice was devoid of all emotion, serious and uncaring. The moment her eyes met his, she cowered at the alarming feeling that engulfed her. Something far inside told her to stop struggling before things got any worse. Mori doesn't mind a little bit of a challenge but this was becoming excessive.

The tears had traveled their way into the crevice of her nose, down the corner of her mouth, and off her reddened irritated face. With his face now softening, he released her wrist and unfastened the button to his left breast pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief. Wordlessly he began to languidly wipe down the planes of her supple face. The swift change in his demeanor gave her whiplash. She could not stop herself from reflexively recoiling at his touch, vapidly turning her face away in one last rejection but to no avail. It didn’t deter him in the slightest; he was diligent and persistent in cleaning up the tears that streaked around her deep frown, making sure to pinch her nose at the end to capture any wandering snot that may have dripped out.

“Come now, don't ruin your face. I hate seeing cute little girls like you cry~ Let's focus on what’s ahead.” Mori folded the cloth before pocketing it, putting his hand on the small of her back and Elise held Akiko’s hand. Both nudging her out the front door. She only had seconds left as she began to unwillingly walk out. She whipped her head over her shoulder and looked back at her weeping parents.

“Mom, Dad… I’m sorry for yelling, I love you both so much, and please! Please tell Haruki, Sayako and Soshichi that I love them too and that I’m sorry I couldn’t tell them that myself.” She could barely choke out the words but she’d never forgive herself if she left without saying anything even if that’s not everything she wanted to say. There were too many things to say, but it was all she could come up with.

“We can only love you more Akiko!” Her mother cried. “I promise to tell them your message!” Satoko Yosano reached out her hand gripping at the air, already mourning the fact that she'll never get to hug her eldest, touch her first baby ever again.

“J-Just promise to come back to us Akiko.” Her father coughed in a poor attempt to hide the emotions in his voice. All the stress could not be good for his health.

“I promise.” Her voice lost its volume as they stepped out of the threshold of the family run yokan shop. That cheery bell signifying their devastating exit.

There is a thick and painful silence as the ringing of the bell ceases.

…

Nothing could have stopped Satoko Yosano’s cries. She’s in her husband’s embrace, arms intertwined amongst one another. She buried her face in his shoulder using him as a way to support herself upright.

“What kind of parents are we? We don’t deserve forgiveness!” She gasped out between sobs. He couldn’t even bring himself to answer, too restrained by his own self hatred at being incapable at protecting his child. All he could was hold his wife, the feeling being the only thing grounding him. How would they cope with this irreparable loss? Their grief was a gaping wound that would only grow, festering with rot.

Haruki had his arms wrapped around Sayako and Soshichi. All of them were huddled in the back of the kitchen terrified. There was an immense amount of muffled yells and cries coming from the central part of the store. As well as a voice they couldn’t recognize. Haruki couldn’t even put together a picture of what was going on out there. Completely unaware that the family he loved so much was about to break beyond repair.

Unbeknownst to the Yosano siblings, their older sister was gone forever…

~ The child has inevitably captured the lovely butterfly, its wings desperately beating down on the glass enclosure of the jar. He made plans to pin down its radiant wings and mount it for display. His prize, his possession. For it was only fair, he went through all the trouble and effort of catching it himself. That poor creature, there will be no mercy. Its fate eternally sealed by the larger hands that plucked it out of its life and into the jar.~

If you made it this far I love you I love you I love you😘💖!!! Ngl I made this an extra chapter because I don’t like the look when the notes section is too long at the bottom. Anyway you’re here you made it!! Yosano nation how we feeling Yosano nation? Meet the reason for why studying for my biology final was so excruciating. This fic was banging its fists manically in my fragile brain. Brace yourself I’m a big yapper and I’m silly.

AUGH this concept breaks my heart and I crave to know every detail about what Yosano went through during her time in the military. If you guys want more stuff like that let me know. Also if you guys have other fics like this please drop the link. I hope Mori suffers for all of eternity <3 Although I will say writing smart people is both really fun and also the very worst. It forces you to think like them and part of the reason this took forever is because I procrastinated the Mori character study for so long. Owie I think all the research I had to do for this fic formed a new wrinkle in my brain!!! Child psychology, Japanese penal codes and yokan recipes for example😩

Guys I told my friends this was going to be a short little 2k-3k max one shot and uhh. That did not happen… I also told them to give me a week deadline to finish it, that was on June 7th🤡🤡🤡 In my defense it spiraled out of control it became all about what the fic wanted not what I wanted!!! AND to top it all off I had a very typical Ao3 writer excuse for not finishing on time so allow me to formally apologize below.

To my precious darling readers,

Please accept my cordial and humble apologies for the tardiness of this Akiko Yosano backstory fan fiction belonging to the Bungo Stray Dogs Fandom. As I was laboring over the creation of this written work I had failed to recognize that the day of my tooth implantation had arrived. I found myself numb to the heavens as the Periodontist drilled a screw into my jawbone and a nurse tenderly held my face to keep my head from reverberating about. Due to this long awaited procedure I was rather mentally delayed for the first few days. I assure you such an inconvenience will not occur again unless all my teeth begin to fight back and disown me. I once again apologize for any inconvenience or distress this may have caused.

Love your #1 Yosano stan, Angel

Hehehe since I was specifically told to rest for two weeks straight it gave me an ample amount of writing time. It’s never not gonna be funny to me that I was on painkillers while writing the ending of this fic, meaning I was physically incapable of feeling pain while I put you all through that.🤭 I’m not a sadist buuuut I hope you felt things. Like pain for example 😃

And for the far future since school is starting again😬 I’m looking for hot beta readers in my area (aka this side of the internet). However I have no clue how to swing that so I’m putting this here dm me if you’re interested. I’m looking for someone who has the time, better grammar than me(at least decent and can spot my fumbles), and can handle heavy angst should I feel like taking out my problems on fictional people again.😉👍Also I can’t pay you babes but that’s ok we do it for the love of the craft.

I genuinely want to publish a novel one day and fanfic really is the best practice. It’s not my first time writing fanfics but it is my first time posting so if you wanna give me constructive criticism or if I’m missing a tag please let me know. Just be nice to me😭 I really wanna hear what you guys have to say. Especially about my favorite girl Yosano who did nothing wrong ever actually!!! Comment don’t be shy I’m very soft and squishy I promise. Even if it’s just a keyboard smash a little goes a long way:) have an immaculate day, night, limbo or ascension until the next time I can’t hold my rot in🥹

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