#got possessed and drew this in 1 (one) hour ???

[yuurionviktor]

hawwow

[torawro]

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 ♡♡.

[daintyys]

Can I request a jealous Coriolanus snow fic pls?

jealousy, jealousy

MDNI - fem!reader x coriolanus snow, 1k words, angst, jealousy, cursing, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, intentional lowercase, i wrote this a hot minute ago just didn't get the chance to fully edit it until now hehe

coriolanus was making his way in the world. he had just been elected president of panem, and it seemed like everything was finally falling into place for him. that is, the fact he was infatuated with you, and had no clue how to go about telling you. coriolanus and you had gone to university together, becoming close over the years, and he assumed you just wanted to stay friends.

for weeks after coryo's election, all he seemed to be doing was hosting galas and spending hours in meetings. boring. the only thing that made him look forward to doing anything was knowing that you would be there. you were his personal assistant. whilst attending university with coriolanus, you made a deal with him: if he ever got elected president, you would be his right-hand woman. and here you were.

on a particularly busy day, coriolanus had not 1, but 4 meetings in a row, and then after that, a night long ball to celebrate the new year. he was not excited for all of it. sure, he had power, but he hardly got any sleep.

the meetings drew on for what seemed like ages, with coryo sealing his approval on bills he had no care for and huffing agreements with his government workers. what finally woke him up was a knock on his office door.

"come in." he groaned, smoothing his hair back. you opened the door slowly, a tray of coffee and cookies in your hands. "i heard you were having a long day, and thought some caffeine would prepare you for tonight." you hummed, placing the tray at the end of his desk. coriolanus' mood changed immediately, his frown turning to a grin. you knew him all too well. "that sounds about right, y/n." coryo approved as he sipped his coffee.

you leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "if you're overworking yourself, you know you can just say no, right? after all, you are the president." coriolanus leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "i'll be fine. thank you for your concern, though." you nodded, heading for the door. "y/n, wait. you're coming to the ball tonight, correct?" the president choked out, looking at you intently. "i will if you want me to, coriolanus. just save me a dance, hm?" you giggled, leaving his office and shutting the door behind you. coryo scoffed, a huge smile plastered on his face, rubbing his temple.

coriolanus could hardly hide his smile as he saw you enter the ballroom. you looked beautiful, your hair in a french twist, and wearing a gorgeous navy-blue gown. you didn't go straight over to him, which was surprising. instead, you made your way to one of coryo's advisors, a man a few years older than you were. he watched as the man kissed your knuckles and reached out to touch your earrings, seemingly complimenting them. fuck.

coriolanus was enraged, his stomach churning violently at the sight of you and another man. you were his. you had always been his. he could go over there and just beat up the man, but that wouldn't look good in the press. you took the advisor's arm, and he lead you over to the bar, handing you a glass of champagne. coryo noticed how happy you looked with the man, how you laughed with him, and it made him positively sick.

it had never occurred to coriolanus that you could have feelings for somebody. not that you were an unloving robot, but coryo had just never heard about you dating anybody. you'd never told him, at least. maybe the man was a just family friend or something, but coryo couldn't seem to get the thought of you all giddy and tipsy with one of his employees out of his head.

coryo soon found himself tossing back glasses of champagne, trying to ease the pain and stop himself from going over to the man and snapping his neck. "fucking bastard." coriolanus chided, handing his glass to a confused waiter. his eyes bore into you, you were standing against the wall with the advisor, deep in conversation. you had promised coriolanus a dance, so what the hell were you doing?

-----

the party was drawing to a close, finally. and even though it was close to 2 in the morning, coriolanus was wide awake. he couldn't stand not being able to watch you leave, let alone not being able to watch you at all. especially not with the man. how controversial would it be for the president of panem to punch the smug smile off of one of his advisor's faces?

he'd finally had enough. his heart was aching, and it had been hours. you hadn't even looked at him. your president. how shameful. coriolanus strided over to you, grasping your wrist lightly. you jumped.

"coriolanus?" you turned towards him, flushed cheeks. his blue eyes bore into yours, narrow and concentrated on your expression. "a word, ms. y/l/n?" you nodded, and coryo lead you into the hallway. you couldn't help but giggle, the alcohol was getting to you. "don't laugh. i'm not fucking laughing." coriolanus fumed, spinning around and planting either of his hands on your shoulders.

you shuddered, he was freezing. "what's going on?" you slurred. "i think you know what's going on, y/n." coriolanus huffed, flush creeping up his neck. "enlighten me, mr. president." you tittered. coriolanus released your shoulders from his grip, and smoothed his suit jacket. "what's the story between you and that man in there?" he questioned, crossing his arms.

you paused. you knew what he was getting at. "you're not jealous, are you, coryo?" a smile toyed at your lips. coriolanus scowled, a look of irritation coming over him. "i-i'm. good god, who was it, y/n?" he loosened his tie, absolutely furious. "my cousin, if you're so interested." you leaned against the wall, smirking.

coriolanus groaned. "unbelievable. i thought you were going out with him. i would have fired him, y/n..." he trailed off, rubbing his temple. "you were jealous." a laugh escaped your lips, and you reached out to touch coryo's arm. "quiet." he whispered, holding his arm out for you to link with.

"yes, mr. president." you took his arm, walking down the hall together. you still had a dance to fulfill, after all.

asks 🩷

[that-of-stars-and-flowers]

A star in the ocean ch 1

Summary: after the fight in Awa’atlu spider becomes a drift a sea while trying to get back to the sully’s, talking it as a sign that he made it so far you take him with you back to your clan

Author's note: Any hate will not be tolerated and will be deleted, i'll be posting this to my wattpad, AO3, and quotev (alot I know). anyway I swear something possessed me to write this so i hope you enjoy and on with the story.

Warnings: nothin that i know of, typical canon violence

word key:

Tsahìk=high priestess/interpreter of Eywa

sa’nu/sa’nok=mommy/mother

sempul= father

kelku=home

tsmuke= sister

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold and exhausted, that's what he felt, in the water after swimming for Eywa knows how long, he knew the fighting had stopped with the lack of shouting and guns firing, but he didn't know how far he was from the island or the ship that was sinking last he saw it, he was sure that he wanted to rest even if it was only for a minute he had been swimming for what felt like hours trying to get back to the sully’s, so he just stayed in the water floating on his back, too tired to move much or be too aware of his surroundings.

“I found someone!”

There were small black dots clouding his vision as he felt someone pick him up out of the water and set him in front of them moving so that he was leaning onto them “don't worry you are safe now i'll take you to the Tsahìk, you'll be fine” said the voice they sounded a bit far and muffled to spider dew to the exhaustion that raked his body. But he felt like he could trust the mysteries voice for now, they sounded calming, and leaned into them, despite being in the water they were much warmer than he was, so not having much other choice he finally let himself rest, at least for a bit. ~~~~~~~~~

Spider felt warmer than he was before and alot more comfortable. He wanted to lay there for a while longer before any of the recoms came to bother him. He moved to get more comfortable than paused and thought for a moment, then he realized, wasn't he just on in open water in the middle of a fight with the RDA and an ocean clan? Spider quickly sat up a bit and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to wake up more to survey his surroundings.

After a minute he glanced around, he realized he was in what looked to be a healer's hut, it was a bit small but there were a two other mats a few feet away from him, there were also some different herbs and plants tied in neat bundles that hung from the ceiling that looked to be drying out, a few short stands with bowls, cups, and other containers on top as well as a few different sized cloths that were stored on a shelf beneath them and finally a small fire pit that sat a bit into the ground closer to the wall with what looked to be a pot hanging above it,with something cooking inside, it sat opposite to what he Assumed was the entryway.

He could hear others walking around outside and talking but couldn't make out any specific words. He sat there for a few minutes trying to remember how he got here, and where exactly ‘here’ was, though he didn't have to wait as long as he thought because before long he could hear two sets of feet making their way closer to him. They were talking and as they got closer he was able to make out what they were saying.

“Is what sa’nu said true?!” The first voice sounded young and full of curiosity, they remind him a bit tuk but he could tell it wasn't, the second voice sighed “yes, but your not supposed to be here, sa’nok said she wanted you to stay in the kelku sooo go back” they drew out there words a bit, but unlike the first voice this one sound older and a bit annoyed. By now they had stopped a few meters from the hut he was in, their silhouettes barely visible with the flap closed “why! i want to see what he looks like'' the shorter one wined “because he needs to heal, besides you'll probably see him when sa’nok and sempul come to speak with him” “maybe but that means i have to wait and that's boring”

The older one chuckled, “then i guess you'll just have be bored then, now go i have to see if–” “i'll just take a peek really quick” “wha- hey!” the older one called after her but it fell on deaf ears and with that spider could hear the younger one rapidly approach the hut, before he could do anything else the flap was pulled back a bit and a small na’vi girl made herself know, she looked surprised to see that he was awake “it is true!” she gasped Before he could say anything she stepped back outside, letting the flap fall close behind her and started talking to who he assumed to be the other girl “Y/n, Y/n! Hurry up, come see!” the other person- Y/n he assumed- rushed to the little girl huffing a bit “zo’ile what did i tell you, i'll get in trouble if you go in there by yourself” she sounded annoyed but not to surprised.

“But Y/n look, he's awake!” she exclaimed excitedly, opening the flap with one hand while pulling the older girl inside the hut with the other “see!” she exclaimed, spider moved to sit up properly and looked towards the pair. The younger of the two was now hanging off of the latters arm leaning forward a bit to get a better look at him as if he was further from them than he actually was and was all but jumping in place with excitement now that she finally got to see him, the older girl didn't respond and seemed to be more surprised to see that he was awake and moving, she studied him a bit, seeing as when she found him she had to rush him to land due to the broken mask he had on.

when their eyes finally met it felt like something had knocked all the air from their lungs, it was like time had stopped. They were both stuck staring at each other as if when one of them blinked the other world disappear without a trace, spider noticed her eyes first, they were a striking blueish green with specks of E/C in them, they were calming yet striking to him like he’d know her his whole life despite having never met, the next thing he noticed was her skin, aside from the fact that they weren't anywhere near, it was obvious she wasn't a forest na’vi with her teal skin and fluid but distinct markings that framed her face and trailed down her body, her hair was H/C and say for a few strands that fell into curls, was pulled back into a braid that seemed to continue into her queue, the last thing he noted was how her arms were wider like fins and that her tail was much flatter than that of the Na’vi or avatars he'd seen. Overall he was in awe.

Despite it properly being a minute or two, It felt like hours before a quit giggling interrupted their little staring contest, both jumping slightly turning toward the sound, clearing her throat Y/n turned to look and the younger na’vi “zo’ile go-go get sa’nok, let her know he's awake” she said lightly pushing her toward the entryway, still giggling she agreed and left,Y/n turned back toward spider finding him to have sat up properly and already looking back at her. Shifting a bit under his gaze she asks “you- you can understand me right?” spider nodded his head not quite trusting his words yet, the na’vi noticeably brightening at this “oh good, here you must be hungry” she said a sigh of relief escaping her as she moved toward the pot, poking at the fire under it a bit before fixing him a bowl “here” she handed him the bowl Before sitting down, and ensuring she was sitting a reasonable distance in front of him without overwhelming him.

Spider mumbled a quick thanks and downed its contents, he set the bowl down and went to wipe his mouth. That's when he noticed it, his mask,it was gone. His eyes went wide as he started to look around him, he stopped when he heard quite chuckle he turned looked at the na’vi in front of him “sorry” her ears when down a bit “it just-are you alright you look confused” she looked at him expectantly her head tilted a bit “uh no- no i'm fine its just my mask-” he cut himself off and sat back with a dumbfounded look on his face running hand through his dreads “it gone”. The girl paused then remembered “oh you mean-” she was cut off when they heard someone approaching the hut.

“Excuse me,” you quickly got up and stepped outside. Letting the flap close as you left, taking swift steps you met your mother halfway greeting her “mother, I see you” she returned the greeting before saying “your tsmuke tells me the boy is awake”

“He is, his wounds were light and seem to be healing already” you explained. She smiled at you “that's good i take it he's asking questions then?” “a few” “i see, well there's no use standing here the sooner i see him the better, your father wishes to speak with him” with that you both walked back to the tent.

[haddonfieldwhore]

ripped lace, cut glass - vessel

vessel (sleep token) x reader

warnings: gender neutral terms but reader is described as wearing a lace top, borderline nsfw/implied smut, biting, choking, mentions of alcohol, 1 f bomb, inhuman?vessel

word count: 1k

the sound of the door creaking open drew your attention from your book, and you sat up from your lounging position on the quilted sofa in vessels living room. he was supposed to be back from the studio hours ago, and as much as you tried not to, you had begun to worry, especially as the night grew darker outside.

“vessel?” you called out, clutching your champagne glass tighter as you stood up, the sparkling liquid dancing around in the glass as you moved. the bubbly liquid had been intended for a celebration of your anniversary, but by the fourth hour that vessel was running behind, you decided to pop it open yourself.

no reply came to your call, and your heart rate increased; what if someone had broken in? you surely couldn’t defend yourself with a a crystal champagne flute. you looked around for anything nearby that would make for a better weapon, but before you could find anything a noise behind you made you jump, the glass slipping from your hand and shattering on the floor.

“vessel you scared the hell out of me! why didn’t you say it was you?” you poked his chest lightly, trying to catch your breath.

“i am sorry - do not step on the glass,” he extended a hand out to you, helping you step over the shards on the floor. “come here.” he pulled you almost effortlessly into his arms, lifting you up off the floor and carrying you over to the kitchen. “please forgive me for being late. i have no excuse other than the time got away from me.” he set you down on the counter top, standing between your legs with his hands on your waist.

“you’re here now,” you smiled, knowing that once vessel began working on music there was no stopping him once inspiration struck, almost as if something was possessing him. “i started drinking without you.” you pointed to the open champagne bottle at the other end of the counter, and vessel smiled.

“i would be disappointed if you had waited for me all this time. may i make it up to you?” vessel pleaded, his hands fiddling with the intricate lace pattern of your shirt.

“i would be disappointed if you didn’t,” you teased with a smile as you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. he kissed you back firmly, sliding you closer to the edge of the counter and allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. his hands trailed up your sides until the reached your jaw, cradling your face in his hands, leaving small black finger prints behind as the paint smudged off his fingertips. vessel pulled back, his eyes growing dark at the evidence of his touch on you already, his heart beating faster as he thought of all the other ways he could mark you. his head dipped down to the junction of your neck, leaving wet kisses on the skin of your throat and shoulders before you felt his teeth dig into your flesh.

“ah- vessel,” you winced at the feeling but couldn’t help but moan as he soothed the pain with more kisses, leaving rosy bruises in his wake before he frantically kissed your lips again. “fuck, your teeth are sharp. are you sure you’re not a vampire or something?” vessel couldn’t help but laugh at your words. or something he thought.

“why? do you wish to spend eternity with me?” he asked, resting his forehead on yours as you both breathed heavily.

“you know i do,” you mumbled, an ache in your heart as you knew the one thing you wanted more than anything you couldn’t have.

“hmmm.” he purred, kissing you again, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. “that is my greatest wish as well. for now we will have to start with tonight.”

you pulled him back to you by the front of his shirt, and it seemed to set something off in him, like a switch had been flipped. his hands gripped desperately at any part of you he could reach, settling on the back of your shirt where it fastened. his charcoal stained fingers tore the fabric with ease, and you began to scold him for ripping it before he captured your words with his mouth, his tongue dancing with yours. you knew he would buy you as many new shirts as you wanted if you only asked, so you let it go.

instead you allowed yourself to focus on how he embraced you, his arms enveloping you against his body. his hands caressed the expanse of your back so tenderly in contrast the the way his lips assaulted yours. he slid your arms out of the sleeves of the top and discarded the ripped lace on the floor, followed by his own coat, leaving himself in just an open shirt.

vessel lifted you in his arms once again, your legs tightly around his hips as he carried you towards his bedroom. placing you softly on the bed and crawling on top of you.

“the champagne will be getting warm out there,” you said playfully. i’m reality, you couldn’t care less about the champagne.

“i can still taste it on your lips, my dear.” he kissed your lips once more before trailing kisses down your bare chest, his hands on your ribcage holding you down on the soft sheets. his lips continued to travel lower, and his hand reached up to wrap around your throat, black handprints mixing with the now purple bruises and teeth marks he had left behind earlier. vessel loved leaving marks on you, even if they were just for him to see. “i love you.”

“i love you more,” you challenged, and he squeezed your throat tighter, almost as a playful warning.

“do not make me prove it, i fear you will not be able to handle it.” he released his grip on your neck, his hands beginning to undo the button of your pants. vessel knew he had to be careful not to do too much, to not hurt you. you, just a human, something so fragile, but in his eyes so perfect.

“sounds tempting,” you smiled, eyes gleaming with anticipation as he leaned over you to kiss your lips softly.

“you have asked for it now, my love.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[kastlequill]

i/v. unearth without a name: the bear that keeps his own line

pairing: keegan p russ x f!reader word count: 1.3k synopsis: the first time you hallucinate keegan tags: whumptober, psychological warfare, blood and injury, brainwashing, hallucinations, hurt no comfort, established relationship, ghost!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: graphic canon-typical violence, torture, non-consensual drug use ao3: read here next →

I.

You were in Hell.

These last twenty-four hours, you had learned that Hell wasn’t actually a pit of molten sin and wayward souls. It wasn’t even a cacophony of the dead’s deafening lamentations. Rather, Hell had proven dark, solitary, and quiet save for the occasional dripping of rainwater from above.

The one commonality between expectation and reality was the pain. Ceaseless, ruthless, limitless—unimaginable pain.

Taut rope digging into the raw flesh of your wrists, ribs still sore from a series of kicks, chin caked dry with the blood that had spouted when they broke your nose. The whistling of air through collapsed canals, arms twisted behind your back, begging for reprieve. Skin already forgetting the warmth of the sun in this lair of pitch blackness; eyes already becoming sensitive to the occasional wash of dull light at the arrival and departure of your interrogators.

Such tortures certainly met the qualifications to be considered Hell.

Upon further inspection, another constant could be found in the Devil’s existence, the evil of whom surpassed your wildest nightmares. His assigned name mattered not; they all referred to the same monstrosity. Devil, Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub.

Rorke.

Three years ago, the sky had rained fire. Two and a half years ago, you’d wound up joining the cause, fighting the good fight alongside men who eventually evolved from strangers into family. One day ago, the handful of you remaining Ghosts had embarked on a mission to destabilize the Federation once again. Everything had proceeded according to plan.

Until it hadn’t.

They’d been expecting your squad’s arrival, and as the chosen scout of the group, you in your lonesome hadn’t stood a chance. Easy pickings for the seven plus Feds who surrounded you, for the leader who pistol whipped you into unconsciousness.

Now, here you were, trapped in some glorified grave at an unknown distance below the surface. Your captors paid you intermittent, sporadic visits, wanting to deprive you of any routine in this God-forsaken torture chamber. As the day went on, more and more frequently did Rorke take up the role of interrogator, taunting you with knowledge he’d long since lost the right to possess.

He’d come about an hour ago to give you a relatively tame beating, all things considered. The time allocated to recover between rounds of whatever they had planned for you wasn’t nearly long enough. His return came sooner than you’d hoped, though one couldn’t dare hope for much in Hell.

“There’s no use resisting,” Rorke sighed, irritation mounting at your stubborn silence. “You and I, we’ve got all the time in the world. I won’t break you today, I won’t break you tomorrow, but what about in a week? A month? A year?”

Deep down, you knew he was right. You also knew that the others would rather die before they cracked under the pressure of a Ghost-killing traitor like Rorke.

But you hadn’t lived or trained the way they did until recently. It was impossible to fit decades’ worth of conditioning into three short years. Despite your best efforts, should Rorke push you with just the right amount of force on just the right weak spots, the chances of you shattering were not unlikely.

In your peripheral, Rorke brandished a syringe filled with an unknown substance. Uncapping it with his teeth, its needle drew closer until it pressed into your bared vein.

“We’re just gettin’ started.”

The effects of the mystery drug were almost immediate as it began to course through your bloodstream. Less than a minute had gone by before you fell to the ground, your knees buckling. The rhythmic beating of your heart was deafeningly loud, and your vision blurred. Which made it difficult to discern reality from delusion, whether or not your stricken mind had conjured the shadowy figure that materialized beside Rorke.

“What do you see?” A sinister voice trickled into your ear, but you could register none of which it spoke. “Who do you see?”

You saw him. Of course it’d be him.

He who had dug you out from beneath a pile of rubble on that fateful day three years ago. He who had then helped you wash your face of grime, blood, and dirt in the ravine when your hands had trembled too much to do so yourself. He who had taught you how to hunt, how to tie a tourniquet, how to shoot, how to kill, how to live.

He who was currently staring at you with an intense hatred.

“I warned Merrick you’d be dead weight, but he didn’t fuckin’ listen,” hissed the apparition, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “The idiot's always had a soft spot for strays. He went too easy on you, didn’t care that your sorry ass could never do a damn thing right. And now here you are, repaying him by spilling our secrets to the enemy, is that it?”

This was a waking nightmare, a manifestation of your worst fears, of your deepest insecurities. Countless times you’d worried if you were a burden, and countless times he’d assured you otherwise.

Not this time.

The man you had grown to care for as more than just a comrade glowered down at your crumpled form, his eyes slitting in disgust. “You’re the same weak, pathetic rookie we found back in Vegas. A disgrace to the mask.”

He’d never say that.

You fought to preserve your memory of him as the Ghost who so rarely chuckled, but couldn’t hold back a snort when a stray tree branch had smacked you in the jaw. To appreciate how hard he had pushed you because he believed in your potential and wanted you to believe in it, too. To keep alive the moments he’d listened as you confided about your past, never offering pitiful condolences, always sharing the weight you shouldered.

“I won’t—” The sentence died in your throat, gravely and sore with disuse. “I’ll protect you. Us. I promise.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to make promises you can’t keep? You can’t even protect yourself,” Keegan sneered. “There’s no us. Never was.”

This isn’t real.

None of it was, except for Rorke and the pain he inflicted upon you. With your forced awareness came a renewed wave of agony, ruminating over your budding relationship, over the circumstances of your capture, over the fractured future that awaited you here.

“Well, who is it? Merrick? Them Walker boys? Good ol’ Keegan?” When you didn't answer, Rorke pressed on. “It don’t really matter all that much, ‘m just curious. Not as if any of ‘em care about you, anyway. You wouldn’t be here if they did.”

Lies.

They cared. Merrick and his tendency to hover, who’d snuck you the last ration of chocolate after your official recruitment; Hesh, who refused to leave you or anyone else behind and tried to get you to crack a smile on your worser days; Logan’s quiet comfort, providing a steady presence in spite of all that he had suffered prior to your meeting him. And Keegan. . .

Keegan cared the most, in his own subtle ways.

“Those Ghosts sure know how to leave a man behind. Pickin’ and choosin’ who is worth the fuss and who ain’t,” Rorke spat, the words a bitter poison. “Seems they’ve decided you’re a waste of time.”

That’s not true.

But the relentless barrage of cruel sentiments was becoming harder to deflect, your mental shields beginning to splinter and cave inward. Truth or falsehood, fabrication or authentication; you now realized the distinction was of no consequence.

“No one’s coming for you. The sooner you come to terms with that fact, the better. Take my word for it, kid.”

In this forgotten place far underneath the earth’s surface, in this graveyard where you joined miscellaneous fossils and decayed matter, in this prison of fear and regret and suffering—

Nothing hurt more than to admit just how much you believed him.

tbc.

[thatiranianphantom]

The assumption is ridiculous, really. She tells them as much. It's ridiculous, and the fact that they've cornered her and they're acting like they've solved their own mystery, only the mystery is her, is frankly just....insulting and patently wrong.

"I hugged you and you yelped, Drew. And one of the rare hugs I deem you worthy of! You'd think you'd be cherishing that opportunity."

"Proves nothing."

"Your boobs are sore. That's symptom #1."

Nancy heaves a deep sigh, and her friends, her beloved best friends actually start circling her, like predators hunting down prey.

"Your eyes are red. You're tired." Bess offers.

"I was up all night helping Ace study!"

George wrinkles her nose. "First of all, ew."

"He has a test, it's not like...."

George holds a hand up. "Don't want to know, not interested in thinking of Ace like that. Ever. More to the point, we got clam chowder and you went exorcist immediately with the puking. That's never happened before."

"It's not like the Claw's food standards have improved since..."

This time, Bess holds a finger up, tutting at Nancy. "We aren't done, our most beloved friend. You could also smell Nick's cologne from across the house."

"He put it on heavily!" The excuses are getting weaker and Nancy knows it. But her brain's gears, usually spinning rapidly, seem to be working at a determinly slow pace. Keeping the doors closed, as it were. Closing out things she perhaps didn't want to think about.

"And," George moves in closer to her, eyes meeting Nancy's straight on, gleaming like she's just fit in the final piece to a particularly difficult puzzle.

"You're late, aren't you?"

It's ostensibly a question, but it's also not a question. Nancy has all the replies in the world on the tip of her tongue, about how invasive it is that her friends are tracking her period, about how it's none of their business, but they somehow get clogged in her throat.

They get lost, as the floodgates open.

Because yes, she did recoil from Nick (there was a comment in there about how it hadn't been that long since they dated, and did she really find him that repulsive yet). She had spent a lot of time retching over some food poisoning that none of her other friends seem to get. She and Ace had indeed had to abort some "date nights" because her boobs were oddly sore. She had peed no less than 7 times on the 4 hour drive to the latest small-scale case. Immediately after vomiting up all the clam chowder, she had inhaled two burgers.

But...

"No," it comes out weakly at first, then stronger. "No! Because we...we're careful. We're always careful. And I'm...I'm on the pill. And we've...I mean, we've only talked about stuff like that as an eventually. Ace hasn't even gotten into med school yet, I can't be...no. No, you're wrong!"

The last part is a near shout, as Nancy curls her fingers into Bess' jacket, first lightly, then tighter, tighter.

Soothingly, with more gentleness than Nancy knew George possessed, her friend disentangles her fingers from Bess, and laces her fingers through Nancy.

"Sweetie," Bess says softly, stroking back a lock of hair from Nancy's forehead. "Did you take the pill every day?"

Her life is insane. It's busy, tracking sin eaters. It doesn't lend itself to a reliable schedule. That's the reasoning she'll use later, along with her app forgetting to remind her after she silenced it one day.

Because for a period of a few days, she'd forgotten. Looking back, she thinks it was Ace's birthday. They'd just come off a case where they'd found three sin eaters at one time, and Ace had done well on a big test, and there was cake and stars and the bed of a rented pickup laid out with blankets and she'd just...forgotten.

Bess and George do their best to soothe her. They buy her tests, and sit with her during the actual eternity that three minutes is, holding her hands and reassuring her it'll be okay, that she has options, that they're here for her, but when she slips into Florence at the end of the day, Ace greeting her with a kiss, the test wrapped in tissue hidden in her bag feels like a bomb with a lit fuse.

[jaimebrienneonline]

Fun with Fics

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

(I got this twice in my inbox, so here goes.)

1. The Wine Is Not Enough

Sam leaned forward and offered Dany some unsolicited wisdom, “Never, ever wear open-toed sandals in a Port-o-Walder.”

2. The Seduction

Jaime lunged forward and pressed his mouth to hers in a sloppy, wet kiss. He pulled back and began kicking off his shoes. "Fine. See. You've won. I yield. You can have your way with me."

3. Vows

He shifted on the bed to lean back against the pillows, angling himself to her. “I left you unprotected in the North. Did that Wildling try to steal you? Did you let him?” His eyes glittered with something she didn’t understand. “Is that why you’re trying to refuse me?”

“No one stole me. Why would anyone even try? I’m not a possession to be stolen,” she huffed.

4. Age Gap

“Seriously though, Tyrion, what’s the point in having a sexy young girlfriend if I can’t have her hold up restaurant menus to prove I can read them from a distance?”

5. The Right Time

He rose from his seat and turned around, facing the bear-like man. With a deliberate swipe of his stump, he knocked the unopened cup to the floor before leaning his perfect muscular backside against the edge of her desk. His voice was like shards of ice as he spoke to the investigator. “Brienne already has plans for lunch. With me.” He then stood straight and took a step closer to the other man. “She has plans today. Tomorrow. Every lunch. Every day. Every dinner, too.”

6. Life's Sweetest Reward

Brienne shoveled a bite of eggs in her mouth and swallowed before answering. “Shuffleboard tournament.” After watching the other couples at parasailing yesterday, she thought she and Jaime were probably the most athletic ‘couple’ on board. “If Jaime manages to get up in time, we’ll likely win.”

Howland drew back from her and his previous affable expression turned into something much harder. Jyana touched his hand, a look of alarm on her face.

“Jya and I have been on ninety-seven cruises. We compete in the shuffleboard tournament every single time.” He leaned in then, his voice dark and low, “And we always win.”

7. The Kingslayer's Speech

No matter how she argued that the first kiss had been an accident, (did you trip and fall into my lips, wench?), he had insisted that he was entitled to a kiss with every goodbye now. It was his due, he said. Just to shut him up, she’d smacked her lips against his and sent him on his way.

8. The Singular Discomfort of Jaime Lannister

He hadn’t thought it possible to be this hard and not explode. “Are you,” he paused, needing to catch his breath, “are you asking me to tell you about the hot, dirty things I want to do to you?”

9. Everyone Has a Price

Aunt Myranda (wife of Stafford, mother of Daven, Cerenna and Myrielle), passed around tequila shots while discussing the benefits of erectile dysfunction medication, but the drawbacks of four-hour erections.

10. Words in the Dark Night

“Or I could warm it on your teats, what little you have, wench. Or perhaps under the sweet curve of your ass.”

Sam watched as the Maid’s gloved hand gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper. He wondered if Ser Jaime planned to die tonight.

----

Okay..this was a lot of fun. Thank you. I haven't double checked all the links, but you can find all my fics by just clicking one and then my user name. I can't always connect writers to tumblrs, so I'm going with the first few I remember. @ddagent @writergirl2011 @seaspiritwrites @glamaphonic @isolacaramella @quizzicalquinnia @ladym-rules @wackygoofball @wildlingoftarth @bussdowntarthiana

[abyssal-ali]

Stars Around My Scars

Part 1

Pairing: Jasonette

Rating: T

Word Count: ~5.7 k

I don't believe there are any warnings, but if you think I should add one, let me know!

Some things may make more sense if you read my (extended) Author's Note here.

Cardigan AU Masterlist here.

Everyone say thank you to my wonderful betas @sarcasticbambi and @boldlyanxious <3<3<3

Any errors are mine, and please don't hesitate to point them out (but please be nice, I'm really proud of this AU).

Requested by @mochegato from my discord poll. I hope you like it! (I promise the fluff and comfort is coming <3 )

You drew Stars Around my Scars

Marinette rushed from her last class to her locker.

The teeming crowds of students milled around the suddenly full hallways, pulling her closer to her goal. Her boyfriend often left little notes or clues to gifts, and it always brightened her day to find a loving surprise. How he knew her locker code, she didn't know, but brushed it off (she'd certainly acquired dubious skills for stupider reasons than giving her SO a gift).

There was nothing there today, but when she slammed it shut she turned and walked into her boyfriend.

“Hey, Pixie. Ready to go?”

She groaned. “Nooo. I have to work on my Lit essay.”

“I can help; whatever you need.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the quiet library, seemingly empty except for the rows of books and the librarian, Ms. Blue. She nodded familiarly at them and went back to her computer as they disappeared deeper into the library's abyss. Finally, they stopped at a table and Marinette dumped her things on its surface.

“Okay, let's do this.”

About an hour after they began working on their homework, Jason got up to find a book for references. A few minutes later, Marinette noticed he still hadn't returned, so she decided to stretch her legs and go look for him. After scouring several rows, she finally heard a thump behind her. The trail of thumps led her to a corner of the library, where Jason was waiting with a smug grin.

“You did miss me.”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I have to keep a very close eye on you when we're in a library or bookstore. I couldn't wait too long or I mayn't have seen you ever again. Like that time I lost you at the B&N.”

“Mayn't?”

She punched his (stupidly solid) arm. “It's an uncommon contraction that should be used more.”

“I'll tell the world to start, then. We should make a prank on Twitter.”

“Oui, good idea! No one will know it's us trolling them, and you can share your bizarre stories and explain your unusual skills.”

“What bizarre stories?” He followed her back to their table, setting up a new Twitter account on his way.

“Um, my ex-girlfriend possessed my other ex, for one. That time you met a civil, agreeable demon, for two...you are a mysterious person, Jason Todd.”

“Thank you, I try to be as cryptid-like as possible. What shall we name our crack account?”

“Um...our names combined make “Janette”; Janette can be the mod. For the handle, how about...Janette@pothamcrack. Yeah. And before you ask, Paris + Gotham equals Potham.”

“Great. Here, our first official tweet. Janette@pothamcrack says: 'Mayn't' is an underused contraction. Use it more, cowards'.”

“Perfect. Can you make everyone we know that's verified follow us so more people are subjected to our crack and insanity?”

•○•○•○•

Jason knocked on Marinette's door. There was a brief flurry of activity, then she opened it enough to stick her head out.

“Heyyy, Jay. You're early!”

“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked, faux-offended.

“No, of course not...come in. I just gotta...”

“Why is there blood on your sweatshirt? Are you hurt?”

Jason carefully circled her, gingerly trailing his hands over her body to check her reactions. When he reached her lower left ribs, she only winced once, very quickly, but he caught her reaction and yanked her Gotham Knights sweatshirt up a couple inches. Her hand grabbed his wrist tightly, preventing him from moving.

“Oh, sorry, Pix. I...should've asked first.” He felt quite remorseful, knowing she hated showing skin, though he didn't know the reason why. But if she was hurt and hiding it, and bleeding...“How badly are you hurt, Pix? Do you need me to take you to the clinic?”

Marinette looked down. “I'm fine, it's just a scratch,” she mumbled quietly. "I was just gonna change, you don't need to worry.”

Now Jason was really concerned. Why was she hiding it? If it really wasn't bad, she'd show him as proof, like that time he thought she chopped her fingers off (in hindsight he may have panicked a bit, but she was his girlfriend and he was terrified of something hurting her) and she immediately showed him the barely-visible nick on her finger.

He gently tilted her chin up to face him and started directly into her blue eyes.

“Marinette, I'm your boyfriend, and I'm worried about you. I understand if you don't want me to see, but can you tell me what happened, at least?”

She dropped her gaze again, though it could only reach his callused hand this time, and inhaled sharply, then winced again.

“I was lightly stabbed from an attempted mugging, but I'm fine! It's just a scratch! I'm sorry for worrying you. I was just gonna get a bandaid; it's not that deep.”

“Stabbed and mugged? Marinette Wendy Dupain-Cheng Stone, why didn't you tell me?!”

She jerked her chin out of his hold and glared at him. “Because I don't need to answer you. I'm an adult and I can take care of myself just fine, thank you. If you don't trust my judgement, then you obviously don't respect me and you can leave me to my first aid.”

“Woah, Pix. I-” Jason stopped and took a deep breath.

“Okay, clearly you have some things we should talk about, but first, you're right. I'm sorry. We can talk about this after you get first aid. I don't have to watch, but I'm staying until we talk this stuff out, Marinette."

Marinette headed to the bathroom where her closest first aid kit was and began unpacking it to search for the things she needed.

The door shut in Jason's face with a decisive click.

He sat across the hall, leaning against the wall and talking to Marinette. She didn't reply, but she didn't chase him out or tell him to shut up, either, so he took it as a win.

Finally, the door opened and Marinette stood in the doorway, just looking at him.

Jason slowly got to his feet and scanned her up and down, just in case she'd bled out in the bathroom and was now a zombie or some other supernatural revenant his brain cursed him with imagining.

She'd left her sweatshirt off and was just in a white tank top, bloodstained on the lower left side (thankfully less blood than his traumatised brain helpfully made him think of), and her jeans. His eyes landed on her arms, which she usually had covered by a sweater or hoodie (usually one of his).

Scars of various sizes and shapes littered her arms and what he could see of her chest. She'd told him that everyone was healed and brought back to life, but he'd thought it was completely healed, not left with scars.

A sudden flash of insight hit him and he blinked, then moved across to hug her gently. “I'm glad you're not seriously hurt. Are you in pain? Do you want me to get a pill?”

“One small slice does not constitute pain, Jason.” She was avoiding his eyes again, he noticed. He much preferred those pretty blues looking at him, not away from him in shame or pain or anger.

“I understand.”

Which hurts more, A or B? Forehand, or backhand?

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I didn't...when you told me about Hawkmoth and Multimouse, you obviously toned it down a lot.”

Marinette realised he had picked her up and they were now in her kitchen, where he perched her on the island and began making her a mug of tea. Oh, she realised. He's not just talking about the mugging.

Her lips quirked up a bit as she watched him move around her kitchen familiarly.

Jason handed her her favourite mug and leaned against the counter beside her.

“Are you okay, besides the 'light stabbing'?”

She glared at him over the rim of her mug, but it lacked heat. “Yeah, it was only an attempted mugging. The dude was following me so I ducked into an alley and when he 'caught' me, I let him get close enough to stab me and then I grabbed his wrist, kneed him, and put him in an armlock. The stab was simply a tactical sacrifice. Then a nice cop drove by as I was zip-tying him, so I let him take the guy into the station. His name was, um, Dick Grayson, I think? He had similar features to you...anyways, yeah, I'm fine, you worrywart. I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier, I just...I shouldn't have yelled, I'm sorry. You were just worried but it reminded me of some situations in Paris and I reacted disproportionately.”

“I forgive you, Pixie. Can you tell me what part of what I did and said reminded you, so I can work on that?”

“The...well, it wasn't really anything. I'm just always on guard because I had to fight for people to trust me so much, and my ex-partner was...always crossing lines and I was always explaining things I shouldn't have had to. You were just asking out of worry, but I immediately jumped to you trying to back me into a corner. It's not something you have to work on,” she snorted bitterly.

As she spoke, Jason picked up her free hand and began running his fingers over her arm soothingly. Marinette suddenly realised what he was doing and focused on the shapes. He was slowly tracing stars around every single mark and scar on her arms. Eventually, he reached her shoulder and left his arm comfortingly across them. She snuggled a little closer and they drank their tea in cosy silence.

○○○○○○○

To Kiss in Cars and Downtown Bars

Jason flipped through the security feeds from his office in the Iceberg Lounge. A familiar face at the back of the line to get in caught his eye. Why...

He changed out of his Red Hood gear into his usual outfit of jeans, a T-shirt, and his leather jacket (different from his RH jacket), then snuck out the door.

•○•○•○•

Marinette jumped as a large, warm hand was put over her mouth. She hadn't heard anyone coming, but they were awfully brave to attempt...whatever...in full view of the bouncers a few metres ahead. She made eye contact with one but he completely ignored her!

Now Marinette was more annoyed at the bouncer's incompetence than the person behind her!

“It's me.”

She whirled around. “Jay? What're you doing here?”

He plucked her ID from her hands (thanks to Fluff and Trixx, she had a passably legal ID) and examined it.

“Not bad. C'mon.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the Lounge. A passcode later, they were in the dark hallway leading from the club's fire exit.

“Here.” He handed her a metal bracelet. “It tells people to back off, you're under the owner's protection. You also won't have to pay.” He pointed to his matching bracelet. “Maybe you'll tell me why you're trying to enter a club?”

She strolled over to the bar, him following closely as usual.

“I'm legal in Paris. Apparently, I have the worst luck. My old class is coming on an exchange in a couple months so they can tour some American universities and experience the American high school system. The problem is, they all think I'm dead - a strawberry daiquiri, please.”

“Mood. Can't you...avoid them? Hack the system and become part of the class going to Paris?”

She chugged half her drink, impressing him, and shook her head.

“Most people in Paris think I'm dead. Paris is bad for me...all the memories...and I was asked to be a translator if there are any issues and because I'm a helpful person who still hasn't learned to say no, I said yes! Although, I didn't know it was my class until the details were sent after I already agreed.”

“Oh...that is a problem. I'm also fluent in French, could I replace you or at least help you?”

“I'll talk to Mr. Patel, he's organising it, but that should be okay. We can continue Janette's crack—they're so idiotic sometimes, and yet they can be so brilliant others, I really don't understand it.”

“I can't wait to meet them. And um, maybe don't chug your drink without eating something?”

“Right. Want to dance?” She held out her hand. He took it and kissed the back, spinning her away from the counter.

“Sure.”

After a couple dances and a close call with a tipsy patron, they headed to a quiet corner, where Marinette dissected outfits and rated style with Jason, who knew a surprising amount about fashion. She supposed he'd heard more than one of her rants/lectures and picked stuff up.

Around midnight, Jason's phone buzzed and he sighed.

“Hey, Pix, I gotta go. Can I bring you home first?”

“Sure. Did you bring your bike?” She followed him outside, her hand still in his.

“Nah, I borrowed a friend's car because I had to transport stuff earlier.”

He led her to a sleek black car and opened the door for her. When he crossed the hood to get to his side, she leaned over and opened the driver's door for him and smiled sweetly.

The drive to Jagged's penthouse, where she was currently living until her parents finalised closing the bakery in Paris and joining her in Gotham, was quiet, broken by her soft humming of random song snippets.

“Thanks for the fun evening, Jay. I was so bummed about them coming, but you cheered me up.”

Marinette leaned over and kissed Jason's cheek before she got out of the car, but he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her back for a longer, proper kiss.

“Night, Pix. Have sweet dreams, maybe of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she giggled and waved him off noncommittally. His ego would be too big if she told him she often dreamed of him.

•○•○•○•

Marinette sighed at Tikki and Wayzz for the fourth time.

“I know I should, I just don't want to. Why can't I live in denial a little longer? He treats me like a princess.”

“Marinette, this is the third time in three weeks that he left your date early with no explanation. This won't be healthier for you in the long run if you keep denying it,” the ladybug kwami advised.

“I'm just tired, Tikki. Aside from the dates and being even more selective about what he tells me about his family and life than I am, it's great! I didn't want a busy, dramatic year. Can I seriously not just leave it a little longer?”

“Guardian, there is a difference between being patient and understanding, and letting everything slide because you don't want to confront someone. There is a possibility he just doesn't know how or when to bring some of these things up, so just try talking to him,” said Wayzz. “If that does not resolve anything, then you can consider what to do after that.”

“And as for the 'no drama' you want, ignoring all of this is only adding to it,” Tikki interjected.

Marinette huffed a breath of hot air and crossed her arms petulantly, knowing the kwami were right. “Fine. I'll ask him to meet me later.”

○○○○○○○

Peter Losing Wendy

“I think we should break up.” She looked him in the eye as she stabbed him in the heart with those dreaded words.

“Why?”

He knew it was for the best, it would keep her safer, but he'd hoped...if she wanted it, he would let her go, taking his heart with him, as he ignored the urge to hold her and never release her.

“You can't explain those weird texts and calls and disappearances, and you've been late or left early with such plausible excuses...I can't...it looks like Adrien 2.0. And believe me, I don't want to think that, but ...call it PTSD or whatever, you're so hot and cold. You keep me at arms' length for so many things, and then you turn around and you're the warmest, most perfect boyfriend I could want. You've got this way of telling me everything, but it's nothing at all...all an illusion. I just, I can't do this again. It's not fair to either of us. Gotham has been better to me than Paris, and I'm going to fight with everything this time."

...And now she was taking his shattered heart with her.

“I asked you to come so we could talk about it, try and figure this out, but you cancelled last-minute, again, Jason. Once or twice I understood, but now it just feels like you're avoiding me, or at least avoiding opening up to me. I'm just...done. I can't ignore all of this anymore, and I'm tired.”

He couldn't do this to her. He'd seen how scarred she was after Multimouse. Now, as an ordinary civilian with loads of PTSD, he wouldn't risk hurting her anymore, repeating Parisian mistakes.

He swallowed. “I'm sorry, P-Marinette.” He turned to leave, blinking rapidly. “If you're in trouble, call me. I'll still come.”

As he turned to shut the door his eyes met hers.

Both pairs were overflowing.

“Goodbye, and good luck.”

The door closing behind him sounded like a sentencing being put into effect.

•○•○•○•

She didn't go to school for two days, choosing to curl into a ball and cry instead.

When she'd first enrolled as Marinette Stone - courtesy of Jagged and Penny helping her set up a new life in his hometown - everyone had been trying to get to know the other new transfer student, Jason.

She'd snubbed him, wanting her final school year to be drama free, and he'd laughed.

Thus began an academic rivalry, and everyone thought they were sworn enemies from the cold way she'd greet him in the halls. For his part, he was warmer to her than anyone else, which confused her, but she wrote him off as a masochist.

But thanks to meddling from Mrs. Perez, who paired them up on a very important assignment, they became sworn besties instead, which led to dating. They kept it quiet, finding that trolling the entire school was hilarious to them, as well as the disappointed look in Mrs. Perez's eyes when at the end of the assignment, they were still rivals and not in love (yes, Mrs. Perez was the biggest Marison shipper).

Jason picked up one of her design scribbles and looked at the hand-lettering she'd done when she was bored in class.

“Your name is Marinette Wendy Dupain-Cheng?”

“Yeah, so?”

“We're Peter and Wendy! My full name is Jason Peter Todd.”

“Didn't they end up not together?”

“... Right. Well… You're petite, so you can be Tinker Bell then.”

She hoped her face conveyed her scepticism. “Tinker Bell? A pixie?”

He ignored her and exclaimed, “Pixie it is!” happy to finally have a nickname she didn't hate or have bad connotations with.

Marinette cried even harder at the memory. They hadn't ended up together, after all.

○○○○○○○

I Knew You (Marked Me Like A Bloodstain)

The tell-tale swish of a grappling hook being deployed caught Jason's attention from where he sat on the roof's vent, swinging his legs as he surveyed his empire's capital, Crime Alley. He rolled backwards off the vent and faced the Dark Knight, tensing for an altercation, whether verbal or physical.

“What do you want, B,” he snapped, annoyed his depression session had been interrupted by the partial cause of the entire mess he was moping about right now.

Batman didn't move, signifying he wanted to talk right now, not fight.

“You haven't been around in either capacity lately, and you didn't respond when Nightwing texted you earlier, either. I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay.”

Angrily, Red Hood turned on Batman with a growl. “As you can see, I'm out, so I'm perfectly healthy. You don't need to check in on your wayward soldier personally. You only care that I'm fine so that you know if you can call me to help on missions and I'll come running back like a dog when you whistle. Just because I'm working with you more doesn't mean I'm one of your little clones who only exists to be useful to you; I have my own life and I don't have to answer to you about any of it.”

“Hood, where is this coming from?” Batman truly sounded bewildered. “I was only checking on you because I care about you. I care about your health and functioning because I care about you.”

“Well maybe you care too much, B. You're constantly calling me out on missions and that's about the only time you contact me, unless Agent A requests it. If you actually care about me as a person, if not your son, you'd ask to see me outside of the mask, but you haven't, which leads me to my previous conclusions. I'm taking a break from all of your messes. If you need my help, don't contact me, and clean it up yourself. I'll be back when I'm back—if I'm back. And don't snoop!”

Hood jumped off the roof and landed on a fire escape, using parkour moves to slide down railings, and assassin-training to evade Batman's close tail. Eventually, Batman gave up and Hood moved out of the shadows to mope back in his Bat-proof apartment.

•○•○•○•

Chasing Shadows (in Grocery Lines)

Red Hood angrily yanked the knots tight on the goons' restraints. He knew the Untitled were in Gotham, but why? Besides the obvious (to kill him), of course.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and he followed it carefully. He snuck up behind the faux-Catwoman and hissed, “Who are you and why are you here?”

“...Catwoman, of course. You know cats, curiosity kills us.”

Convincing.

She acted similarly to Selina, but she was... off. Wrong inflection, similar mannerisms but they were too forced, the suit wasn't pure black like Selina's (it was black with grey accents), no purr...

“No, you're not. Catwoman and I have a bi-monthly feline petting session where we complain about Batman, so I've spent enough time with the Sirens to know you're just… Uncanny Valley Catwoman.” He waved his hand at faux-Catwoman's entire existence.

She hissed and her ears and tail twitched.

Were...they real?

“Look, I don't want to fight you, but you're making it hard. Don't insult 'short' people. It's not our fault you're trees.”

“I'll stop saying things like that when you stop looking at me as if you want to climb me like one,” he retorted.*

Wait, faux-Catwoman, Bat-adjacent, flirting on a roof… NO! I'm not becoming Bruce!!

“I'm here because I think some of my trainer's enemies are after me,” faux-Catwoman blurted in an attempt to change the subject.

Ha, he could still see her cheeks and neck warming.

“Who?”

“They're a creepy old magic group called the Untitled. Ironic, I know. I don't know much about them besides the fact that they're incredibly evil, and they want my Miraculous.”

“Are you All-Caste too?” He didn't think they had anyone left besides himself, but if they were travelling while the Untitled attacked, maybe someone escaped...

“What?”

“Nevermind. I didn't know the Untitled had more enemies than my sect. I'm the last member; the Untitled wiped the rest of us out. I can tell you more about the Untitled once I finish my patrol, in 20-ish minutes?”

Faux-Catwoman nodded. “The gargoyle across from Drake Industries work for you?”

“Sure. What should I call you, by the way?”

“Onyx. Ciao!”

Twenty-three minutes later, Red Hood grappled up to his gargoyle, finding Onyx sitting beside it, casually swinging her feet as if she wasn't 40 stories up and untethered.

“So, you like Freddy too?”

“Freddy?”

“My thinking gargoyle. You're new in town.”

Onyx sighed heavily. “No, you're just the first person to notice I'm not Catwoman.”

Jason sensed she needed to talk more so he employed his most effective interrogation technique, silence, and she began talking a moment later.

“This is Paris all over again. Do you know about what happened in Paris?”

Jason nodded and pulled out a granola bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, and began eating as she continued.

“I was Ladybug. When I became Guardian of the Miraculous, I revoked my black cat's ring. He'd been corrupted since he wasn't a true black cat, and also from living in a house with the corrupted butterfly and broken peacock Miraculous. His dad was Hawkmoth, though he didn't know that, and he was my boyfriend as a civilian. Turns out he was cheating on me with my bully per his father's and my bully's manipulation.

“I used the Miraculous of Multiplication to become Bugmouse and Catmouse, and when I got the Miraculous from Hawkmoth, I put them away.

"My uncle helped me move here to start afresh… in Paris, everywhere I went, there were memories… And most weren't happy. When I came here, life was great… I didn't think I wanted another boyfriend but I did get one… And now I've broken up with him. He was perfect, and I was waiting for the imperfections, but... It turned into Paris II: Electric Boogaloo. He would disappear randomly, and it seemed like he was waiting till I was busy so I wouldn't notice. I followed him once because he'd left something behind, but it was like he knew I was tailing him and he lost me. He never introduced me to his family — he said they were semi-estranged, but I can't help wondering...

"So I grabbed a Miraculous and became Onyx; beating up bad guys is better than therapy, y'know? I just didn't expect to be traced by the Miraculous's signature by the Untitled.

“And now Gotham is becoming Paris,” she finished with a heavy sigh. “At least to me.”

After another silence, she gasped quietly. “I'm sorry for monologuing on you, you just felt… like a comrade, maybe? You give off safe vibes, anyways.”

The more she talked, the more she solidified his suspicion that Onyx was Marinette.

“I'm sorry you had to go through that, Onyx.” He didn't want to say anything else, partially out of guilt, and partially to stop himself from explaining everything and throwing himself on her mercy and begging her to take him back.

“So, the Untitled?” Onyx cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, turning to see his (masked) face a bit better.

“Right. The Untitled are millennia-old evil sibling magicians who got their power from a well of evil. There are only eight members of the Untitled, but they are very old and powerful. They were enemies with the group who trained me, the All-Caste, and killed them all. They can't be killed by normal means, but I have the All-Blades, which can defeat them. Do you have anything that can harm them, do you know?” Hood asked.

“I suspect the ‘Cataclysm’ power and perhaps ‘Clout’ or ‘Uproar’, and though I'd prefer not to test it in battle and find I'm wrong, I don't know how else to confirm my hypothesis.”

“Then how about you stay in the background while I take on the Untitled with the All-Blades, and when there's an opening you try your hypothesis?”

“I can do that. When are we going?” He asked her.

“Sooner rather than later, I think. When can you-”

“Okay, give me ten minutes,” Onyx interrupted. “I'll get my Miraculous and meet you at the warehouse at the edge of Gotham, in the westernmost part of the Tricorner Yards. You can lure the Untitled there or something, right?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Ten minutes average or ten minutes on the dot?”

“On the dot. I have a very precise Miraculous.”

“...okay. See you in 10, Onyx.”

•○•○•○•

Ten minutes later, Onyx appeared in the shadows of the warehouse, where Jason was already in the middle of two Untitled, his glowing swords flickering in the dark and giving off an eerie vibe. The chill and sense of evil permeating the air didn't help, either.

Onyx's suit was now pure black, with thin stripes of red, magenta, and brown scattered around her suit.

“Cataclysm,” Onyx whispered and threw the ball of destruction at the Untitled on Jason's rear.

The Untitled were now alerted to her presence and she moved swiftly from shadow to shadow. One began to approach her, and she instinctively activated the tiger's power, ‘Clout’. The immense power from the magical punch knocked the being out, and Onyx turned her attention to the two Untitled who took the place of the previous duo already taken care of by Red Hood's swords.

“Uproar!” she cried, hoping the power-disrupting ability would work on the beings as she tossed the circlet like a frisbee at them. Onyx breathed deeply in relief when she realised her powers did work on the Untitled and turned to face the remaining two, back to back with Hood.

They attacked at the same time, swirling black shadows with surprising speed, but Onyx had prepared a second Cataclysm and yelled “Jump!” at Hood as the Untitled reached them.

The Untitled almost crashed into each other and tried to stop themselves before they could collide. It was too late, however. Onyx and Hood jumped to the first level above them (superpowers handily granting them extra height), and watched as the same cataclysm turned both ghouls into nothing.

Hood exhaled jaggedly and turned to her. “You have some nice moves and those were some sick abilities!”

She grinned, a little winded from using three Miraculous at once, and replied, “You weren't too bad yourself! Those swords sure are handy.”

“Yeah… Thank you for your help, Onyx. I couldn't have taken them all down at once without you.”

She waved it off and swung down to the floor again. “It was my pleasure, I assure you. I'm thrilled one less group of weird power-hungry monsters is after my head.”

“If you want to team up for a night of regular vigilantism, that'd be cool. Or are you leaving, now that you're safe again?”

“No, I'm here for another unforeseen amount of time,” she sighed, civilian life distracting her.

Hood didn't want to have her dwelling on their breakup quite yet so he decided to distract her. “Hey, how'd you learn that flippy move you did back there? It was really cool.”

Onyx cheered up a little. “Really? Thanks. My uncle taught me, actually... I'd taken gymnastics for a couple years so I had a good base and then he built off that. I have a similar build to his daughter, so he taught both of us. I think you'd get along great… He does prefer a sword, but he's still pretty handy with a gun.”

“Oh, maybe I've heard of him?”

“Uh...Slade Wilson?” Onyx asked hesitantly.

Deathstroke was Onyx's uncle?!

“Your uncle is Deathstroke?!” he blurted.

Onyx chuckled guiltily. “Heh. Not by blood, my nonna just has a ton of connections with really strange people, and she introduced us a few years ago. He kinda adopted me, so I just call him uncle. Y'know, we only see each other a couple times a year. He likes to surprise me when he visits and keeps my skills sharp, so he usually makes sneak attacks. I've got a good eye for attempted assassinations thanks to it!” she said cheerily, rambling in her nervousness but somehow concerning him more.

Hood was a little more scared of Onyx after he learned that information.

Yeah, Talia al Ghul had adopted him, but she was less likely to come after Marinette just because she was dating her son. Also, he knew her.

Slade was protective of his children, even if he did nothing else as their father, and he was unpredictable.

Hood shivered and headed home chilled, looking over his shoulder a couple more times than he usually did.

•○•○•○•

Jason wandered aimlessly down the aisles, collecting items he remembered he needed and tossing them in his basket. Bread, yeast for when he was feeling less sad and went back to making his own, milk, oats, soap, bandages and ointment, coffee, chicken, ice cream.

He headed to the only checkout lane open and put his purchases on the conveyor belt. The bored and tired-looking young adult started soullessly scanning them while Jason rolled his eyes at a gossip rag loudly proclaiming Wayne family "news" on its cover.

He reached for his wallet and spun back to face the shadows. Slim, black hair, shadowy…Marinette?

He looked closer and grimaced at Cass.

“What are you doing here?” he signed, annoyance clear in his body language.

“Saw you going by and you looked sad, so I followed you. No one else knows,” she replied.

He frowned harder. “I’m fine. Just tired. And I told B not to contact me. I’ll talk to whomever of you I want when I want to, and I don’t want to talk to any of you right now,” he signed emphatically. “Thanks for checking on me, but I don’t need it.”

He turned back to the slightly bewildered-looking cashier, who had only seen him making gestures at the shadows, and rolled his eyes harder. Stupid Bats, always making him look foolish.

He grimace-smiled politely and handed over the cash, grabbing his bags and leaving immediately, feeling even more foolish for thinking Cass had been Marinette.

Marinette wouldn’t be near him willingly for a while. Clearly he needed to do something about that.

He’d been feeling more foolish in the past couple days than in the past couple years combined.

Marinette had told him she was a temp hero, Multimouse, and stayed in contact with her friends, who had been temporary and official heroes. She clearly still cared about them and knew they were heroes, yet didn’t act any differently. He could’ve told her his secrets, she would’ve understood and kept them, but he didn’t want to hurt her with them.

Well, if she was still friends with official heroes, she’d obviously weighed the risks and decided it didn’t matter. He should have let her choose in their relationship, too.

Marinette had good judgement (the only strike he had against that evidence was her agreeing to date him in the first place, but then again he’d always been a good actor out of necessity) and he trusted it, although he hadn’t really shown that.

Tired of waffling between should he talk to her/should he leave her in peace and never show his face in front of her again, he finally decided.

○○○○○○○

THE END of Part One

Thank you for reading!

*this sentence is all thanks to @nitwitjustice, who gave permission for me to use his quip in my fic :)

[ali-annals]

You Drew Stars Around My Scars

Cardigan AU Masterlist | Part 2 | Master Masterlist | Ao3 | CW: implied/referenced violence

Jasonette, Chapter 1/2, ~7k?

Marinette rushed from her last class to her locker.

The teeming crowds of students milled around the suddenly full hallways, pulling her closer to her goal. Her boyfriend often left little notes or clues to gifts, and it always brightened her day to find a loving surprise. How he knew her locker code, she didn’t know, but brushed it off (she’d certainly acquired dubious skills for stupider reasons than giving her SO a gift).

There was nothing there today, but when she slammed it shut she turned and walked into her boyfriend.

“Hey, Pixie. Ready to go?”

She groaned. “Nooo. I have to work on my Lit essay.”

“I can help; whatever you need.”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the quiet library, seemingly empty except for the rows of books and the librarian, Ms. Blue. She nodded familiarly at them and went back to her computer as they disappeared deeper into the library’s abyss. Finally, they stopped at a table and Marinette dumped her things on its surface.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

About an hour after they began working on their homework, Jason got up to find a book for references. A few minutes later, Marinette noticed he still hadn’t returned, so she decided to stretch her legs and go look for him. After scouring several rows, she finally heard a thump behind her. The trail of thumps led her to a corner of the library, where Jason was waiting with a smug grin.

“You did miss me.”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I have to keep a very close eye on you when we’re in a library or bookstore. I couldn’t wait too long or I mayn’t have seen you ever again. Like that time I lost you at the B&N.”

“Mayn’t?”

She punched his (stupidly solid) arm. “It’s an uncommon contraction that should be used more.”

“I’ll tell the world to start, then. We should make a prank on Twitter.”

“Oui, good idea! No one will know it’s us trolling them, and you can share your bizarre stories and explain your unusual skills.”

“What bizarre stories?” He followed her back to their table, setting up a new Twitter account on his way.

“Um, my ex-girlfriend possessed my other ex, for one. That time you met a civil, agreeable demon, for two…you are a mysterious person, Jason Todd.”

“Thank you, I try to be as cryptid-like as possible. What shall we name our crack account?”

“Um…our names combined make “Janette”; Janette can be the mod. For the handle, how about…Janette@pothamcrack. Yeah. And before you ask, Paris + Gotham equals Potham.”

“Great. Here, our first official tweet. Janette@pothamcrack says: ‘Mayn’t’ is an underused contraction. Use it more, cowards’.”

“Perfect. Can you make everyone we know that’s verified follow us so more people are subjected to our crack and insanity?”

•○•○•○•

Jason knocked on Marinette’s door. There was a brief flurry of activity, then she opened it enough to stick her head out.

“Heyyy, Jay. You’re early!”

“Is that such a bad thing?” he asked, faux-offended.

“No, of course not…come in. I just gotta…”

“Why is there blood on your sweatshirt? Are you hurt?”

Jason carefully circled her, gingerly trailing his hands over her body to check her reactions. When he reached her lower left ribs, she only winced once, very quickly, but he caught her reaction and yanked her Gotham Knights sweatshirt up a couple inches. Her hand grabbed his wrist tightly, preventing him from moving.

“Oh, sorry, Pix. I…should’ve asked first.” He felt quite remorseful, knowing she hated showing skin, though he didn’t know the reason why. But if she was hurt and hiding it, and bleeding…“How badly are you hurt, Pix? Do you need me to take you to the clinic?”

Marinette looked down. “I’m fine, it’s just a scratch,” she mumbled quietly. “I was just gonna change, you don’t need to worry.”

Now Jason was really concerned. Why was she hiding it? If it really wasn’t bad, she’d show him as proof, like that time he thought she chopped her fingers off (in hindsight he may have panicked a bit, but she was his girlfriend and he was terrified of something hurting her) and she immediately showed him the barely-visible nick on her finger.

He gently tilted her chin up to face him and started directly into her blue eyes.

“Marinette, I’m your boyfriend, and I’m worried about you. I understand if you don’t want me to see, but can you tell me what happened, at least?”

She dropped her gaze again, though it could only reach his callused hand this time, and inhaled sharply, then winced again.

“I was lightly stabbed from an attempted mugging, but I’m fine! It’s just a scratch! I’m sorry for worrying you. I was just gonna get a bandaid; it’s not that deep.”

“Stabbed and mugged? Marinette Wendy Dupain-Cheng Stone, why didn’t you tell me?!”

She jerked her chin out of his hold and glared at him. “Because I don’t need to answer you. I’m an adult and I can take care of myself just fine, thank you. If you don’t trust my judgement, then you obviously don’t respect me and you can leave me to my first aid.”

“Woah, Pix. I-” Jason stopped and took a deep breath.

“Okay, clearly you have some things we should talk about, but first, you’re right. I’m sorry. We can talk about this after you get first aid. I don’t have to watch, but I’m staying until we talk this stuff out, Marinette.”

Marinette headed to the bathroom where her closest first aid kit was and began unpacking it to search for the things she needed.

The door shut in Jason’s face with a decisive click.

He sat across the hall, leaning against the wall and talking to Marinette. She didn’t reply, but she didn’t chase him out or tell him to shut up, either, so he took it as a win.

Finally, the door opened and Marinette stood in the doorway, just looking at him.

Jason slowly got to his feet and scanned her up and down, just in case she’d bled out in the bathroom and was now a zombie or some other supernatural revenant his brain cursed him with imagining.

She’d left her sweatshirt off and was just in a white tank top, bloodstained on the lower left side (thankfully less blood than his traumatised brain helpfully made him think of), and her jeans. His eyes landed on her arms, which she usually had covered by a sweater or hoodie (usually one of his).

Scars of various sizes and shapes littered her arms and what he could see of her chest. She’d told him that everyone was healed and brought back to life, but he’d thought it was completely healed, not left with scars.

A sudden flash of insight hit him and he blinked, then moved across to hug her gently. “I’m glad you’re not seriously hurt. Are you in pain? Do you want me to get a pill?”

“One small slice does not constitute pain, Jason.” She was avoiding his eyes again, he noticed. He much preferred those pretty blues looking at him, not away from him in shame or pain or anger.

“I understand.”

Which hurts more, A or B? Forehand, or backhand?

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I didn’t…when you told me about Hawkmoth and Multimouse, you obviously toned it down a lot.”

Marinette realised he had picked her up and they were now in her kitchen, where he perched her on the island and began making her a mug of tea. Oh, she realised. He’s not just talking about the mugging.

Her lips quirked up a bit as she watched him move around her kitchen familiarly.

Jason handed her her favourite mug and leaned against the counter beside her.

“Are you okay, besides the 'light stabbing’?”

She glared at him over the rim of her mug, but it lacked heat. “Yeah, it was only an attempted mugging. The dude was following me so I ducked into an alley and when he 'caught’ me, I let him get close enough to stab me and then I grabbed his wrist, kneed him, and put him in an armlock. The stab was simply a tactical sacrifice. Then a nice cop drove by as I was zip-tying him, so I let him take the guy into the station. His name was, um, Dick Grayson, I think? He had similar features to you…anyways, yeah, I’m fine, you worrywart. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier, I just…I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry. You were just worried but it reminded me of some situations in Paris and I reacted disproportionately.”

“I forgive you, Pixie. Can you tell me what part of what I did and said reminded you, so I can work on that?”

“The…well, it wasn’t really anything. I’m just always on guard because I had to fight for people to trust me so much, and my ex-partner was…always crossing lines and I was always explaining things I shouldn’t have had to. You were just asking out of worry, but I immediately jumped to you trying to back me into a corner. It’s not something you have to work on,” she snorted bitterly.

As she spoke, Jason picked up her free hand and began running his fingers over her arm soothingly. Marinette suddenly realised what he was doing and focused on the shapes. He was slowly tracing stars around every single mark and scar on her arms. Eventually, he reached her shoulder and left his arm comfortingly across them. She snuggled a little closer and they drank their tea in cosy silence.

○○○○○○○

To Kiss in Cars and Downtown Bars

Jason flipped through the security feeds from his office in the Iceberg Lounge. A familiar face at the back of the line to get in caught his eye. Why…

He changed out of his Red Hood gear into his usual outfit of jeans, a T-shirt, and his leather jacket (different from his RH jacket), then snuck out the door.

•○•○•○•

Marinette jumped as a large, warm hand was put over her mouth. She hadn’t heard anyone coming, but they were awfully brave to attempt…whatever…in full view of the bouncers a few metres ahead. She made eye contact with one but he completely ignored her!

Now Marinette was more annoyed at the bouncer’s incompetence than the person behind her!

“It’s me.”

She whirled around. “Jay? What’re you doing here?”

He plucked her ID from her hands (thanks to Fluff and Trixx, she had a passably legal ID) and examined it.

“Not bad. C'mon.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the Lounge. A passcode later, they were in the dark hallway leading from the club’s fire exit.

“Here.” He handed her a metal bracelet. “It tells people to back off, you’re under the owner’s protection. You also won’t have to pay.” He pointed to his matching bracelet. “Maybe you’ll tell me why you’re trying to enter a club?”

She strolled over to the bar, him following closely as usual.

“I’m legal in Paris. Apparently, I have the worst luck. My old class is coming on an exchange in a couple months so they can tour some American universities and experience the American high school system. The problem is, they all think I’m dead - a strawberry daiquiri, please.”

“Mood. Can’t you…avoid them? Hack the system and become part of the class going to Paris?”

She chugged half her drink, impressing him, and shook her head.

“Most people in Paris think I’m dead. Paris is bad for me…all the memories…and I was asked to be a translator if there are any issues and because I’m a helpful person who still hasn’t learned to say no, I said yes! Although, I didn’t know it was my class until the details were sent after I already agreed.”

“Oh…that is a problem. I’m also fluent in French, could I replace you or at least help you?”

“I’ll talk to Mr. Patel, he’s organising it, but that should be okay. We can continue Janette’s crack—they’re so idiotic sometimes, and yet they can be so brilliant others, I really don’t understand it.”

“I can’t wait to meet them. And um, maybe don’t chug your drink without eating something?”

“Right. Want to dance?” She held out her hand. He took it and kissed the back, spinning her away from the counter.

“Sure.”

After a couple dances and a close call with a tipsy patron, they headed to a quiet corner, where Marinette dissected outfits and rated style with Jason, who knew a surprising amount about fashion. She supposed he’d heard more than one of her rants/lectures and picked stuff up.

Around midnight, Jason’s phone buzzed and he sighed.

“Hey, Pix, I gotta go. Can I bring you home first?”

“Sure. Did you bring your bike?” She followed him outside, her hand still in his.

“Nah, I borrowed a friend’s car because I had to transport stuff earlier.”

He led her to a sleek black car and opened the door for her. When he crossed the hood to get to his side, she leaned over and opened the driver’s door for him and smiled sweetly.

The drive to Jagged’s penthouse, where she was currently living until her parents finalised closing the bakery in Paris and joining her in Gotham, was quiet, broken by her soft humming of random song snippets.

“Thanks for the fun evening, Jay. I was so bummed about them coming, but you cheered me up.”

Marinette leaned over and kissed Jason’s cheek before she got out of the car, but he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her back for a longer, proper kiss.

“Night, Pix. Have sweet dreams, maybe of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she giggled and waved him off noncommittally. His ego would be too big if she told him she often dreamed of him.

•○•○•○•

Marinette sighed at Tikki and Wayzz for the fourth time.

“I know I should, I just don’t want to. Why can’t I live in denial a little longer? He treats me like a princess.”

“Marinette, this is the third time in three weeks that he left your date early with no explanation. This won’t be healthier for you in the long run if you keep denying it,” the ladybug kwami advised.

“I’m just tired, Tikki. Aside from the dates and being even more selective about what he tells me about his family and life than I am, it’s great! I didn’t want a busy, dramatic year. Can I seriously not just leave it a little longer?”

“Guardian, there is a difference between being patient and understanding, and letting everything slide because you don’t want to confront someone. There is a possibility he just doesn’t know how or when to bring some of these things up, so just try talking to him,” said Wayzz. “If that does not resolve anything, then you can consider what to do after that.”

“And as for the 'no drama’ you want, ignoring all of this is only adding to it,” Tikki interjected.

Marinette huffed a breath of hot air and crossed her arms petulantly, knowing the kwami were right. “Fine. I’ll ask him to meet me later.”

○○○○○○○

Peter Losing Wendy

“I think we should break up.” She looked him in the eye as she stabbed him in the heart with those dreaded words.

“Why?”

He knew it was for the best, it would keep her safer, but he’d hoped…if she wanted it, he would let her go, taking his heart with him, as he ignored the urge to hold her and never release her.

“You can’t explain those weird texts and calls and disappearances, and you’ve been late or left early with such plausible excuses…I can’t…it looks like Adrien 2.0. And believe me, I don’t want to think that, but …call it PTSD or whatever, you’re so hot and cold. You keep me at arms’ length for so many things, and then you turn around and you’re the warmest, most perfect boyfriend I could want. You’ve got this way of telling me everything, but it’s nothing at all…all an illusion. I just, I can’t do this again. It’s not fair to either of us. Gotham has been better to me than Paris, and I’m going to fight with everything this time.“

…And now she was taking his shattered heart with her.

“I asked you to come so we could talk about it, try and figure this out, but you cancelled last-minute, again, Jason. Once or twice I understood, but now it just feels like you’re avoiding me, or at least avoiding opening up to me. I’m just…done. I can’t ignore all of this anymore, and I’m tired.”

He couldn’t do this to her. He’d seen how scarred she was after Multimouse. Now, as an ordinary civilian with loads of PTSD, he wouldn’t risk hurting her anymore, repeating Parisian mistakes.

He swallowed. “I’m sorry, P-Marinette.” He turned to leave, blinking rapidly. “If you’re in trouble, call me. I’ll still come.”

As he turned to shut the door his eyes met hers.

Both pairs were overflowing.

“Goodbye, and good luck.”

The door closing behind him sounded like a sentencing being put into effect.

•○•○•○•

She didn’t go to school for two days, choosing to curl into a ball and cry instead.

When she’d first enrolled as Marinette Stone - courtesy of Jagged and Penny helping her set up a new life in his hometown - everyone had been trying to get to know the other new transfer student, Jason.

She’d snubbed him, wanting her final school year to be drama free, and he’d laughed.

Thus began an academic rivalry, and everyone thought they were sworn enemies from the cold way she’d greet him in the halls. For his part, he was warmer to her than anyone else, which confused her, but she wrote him off as a masochist.

But thanks to meddling from Mrs. Perez, who paired them up on a very important assignment, they became sworn besties instead, which led to dating. They kept it quiet, finding that trolling the entire school was hilarious to them, as well as the disappointed look in Mrs. Perez’s eyes when at the end of the assignment, they were still rivals and not in love (yes, Mrs. Perez was the biggest Marison shipper).

Jason picked up one of her design scribbles and looked at the hand-lettering she’d done when she was bored in class.

“Your name is Marinette Wendy Dupain-Cheng?”

“Yeah, so?”

“We’re Peter and Wendy! My full name is Jason Peter Todd.”

“Didn’t they end up not together?”

“… Right. Well… You’re petite, so you can be Tinker Bell then.”

She hoped her face conveyed her scepticism. “Tinker Bell? A pixie?”

He ignored her and exclaimed, “Pixie it is!” happy to finally have a nickname she didn’t hate or have bad connotations with.

Marinette cried even harder at the memory. They hadn’t ended up together, after all.

○○○○○○○

I Knew You (Marked Me Like A Bloodstain)

The tell-tale swish of a grappling hook being deployed caught Jason’s attention from where he sat on the roof’s vent, swinging his legs as he surveyed his empire’s capital, Crime Alley. He rolled backwards off the vent and faced the Dark Knight, tensing for an altercation, whether verbal or physical.

“What do you want, B,” he snapped, annoyed his depression session had been interrupted by the partial cause of the entire mess he was moping about right now.

Batman didn’t move, signifying he wanted to talk right now, not fight.

“You haven’t been around in either capacity lately, and you didn’t respond when Nightwing texted you earlier, either. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Angrily, Red Hood turned on Batman with a growl. “As you can see, I’m out, so I’m perfectly healthy. You don’t need to check in on your wayward soldier personally. You only care that I’m fine so that you know if you can call me to help on missions and I’ll come running back like a dog when you whistle. Just because I’m working with you more doesn’t mean I’m one of your little clones who only exists to be useful to you; I have my own life and I don’t have to answer to you about any of it.”

“Hood, where is this coming from?” Batman truly sounded bewildered. “I was only checking on you because I care about you. I care about your health and functioning because I care about you.”

“Well maybe you care too much, B. You’re constantly calling me out on missions and that’s about the only time you contact me, unless Agent A requests it. If you actually care about me as a person, if not your son, you’d ask to see me outside of the mask, but you haven’t, which leads me to my previous conclusions. I’m taking a break from all of your messes. If you need my help, don’t contact me, and clean it up yourself. I’ll be back when I’m back—if I’m back. And don’t snoop!”

Hood jumped off the roof and landed on a fire escape, using parkour moves to slide down railings, and assassin-training to evade Batman’s close tail. Eventually, Batman gave up and Hood moved out of the shadows to mope back in his Bat-proof apartment.

•○•○•○•

Chasing Shadows (in Grocery Lines)

Red Hood angrily yanked the knots tight on the goons’ restraints. He knew the Untitled were in Gotham, but why? Besides the obvious (to kill him), of course.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and he followed it carefully. He snuck up behind the faux-Catwoman and hissed, “Who are you and why are you here?”

“…Catwoman, of course. You know cats, curiosity kills us.”

Convincing.

She acted similarly to Selina, but she was… off. Wrong inflection, similar mannerisms but they were too forced, the suit wasn’t pure black like Selina’s (it was black with grey accents), no purr…

“No, you’re not. Catwoman and I have a bi-monthly feline petting session where we complain about Batman, so I’ve spent enough time with the Sirens to know you’re just… Uncanny Valley Catwoman.” He waved his hand at faux-Catwoman’s entire existence.

She hissed and her ears and tail twitched.

Were…they real?

“Look, I don’t want to fight you, but you’re making it hard. Don’t insult 'short’ people. It’s not our fault you’re trees.”

“I’ll stop saying things like that when you stop looking at me as if you want to climb me like one,” he retorted.*

Wait, faux-Catwoman, Bat-adjacent, flirting on a roof… NO! I’m not becoming Bruce!!

“I’m here because I think some of my trainer’s enemies are after me,” faux-Catwoman blurted in an attempt to change the subject.

Ha, he could still see her cheeks and neck warming.

“Who?”

“They’re a creepy old magic group called the Untitled. Ironic, I know. I don’t know much about them besides the fact that they’re incredibly evil, and they want my Miraculous.”

“Are you All-Caste too?” He didn’t think they had anyone left besides himself, but if they were travelling while the Untitled attacked, maybe someone escaped…

“What?”

“Nevermind. I didn’t know the Untitled had more enemies than my sect. I’m the last member; the Untitled wiped the rest of us out. I can tell you more about the Untitled once I finish my patrol, in 20-ish minutes?”

Faux-Catwoman nodded. “The gargoyle across from Drake Industries work for you?”

“Sure. What should I call you, by the way?”

“Onyx. Ciao!”

Twenty-three minutes later, Red Hood grappled up to his gargoyle, finding Onyx sitting beside it, casually swinging her feet as if she wasn’t 40 stories up and untethered.

“So, you like Freddy too?”

“Freddy?”

“My thinking gargoyle. You’re new in town.”

Onyx sighed heavily. “No, you’re just the first person to notice I’m not Catwoman.”

Jason sensed she needed to talk more so he employed his most effective interrogation technique, silence, and she began talking a moment later.

“This is Paris all over again. Do you know about what happened in Paris?”

Jason nodded and pulled out a granola bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, and began eating as she continued.

“I was Ladybug. When I became Guardian of the Miraculous, I revoked my black cat’s ring. He’d been corrupted since he wasn’t a true black cat, and also from living in a house with the corrupted butterfly and broken peacock Miraculous. His dad was Hawkmoth, though he didn’t know that, and he was my boyfriend as a civilian. Turns out he was cheating on me with my bully per his father’s and my bully’s manipulation.

“I used the Miraculous of Multiplication to become Bugmouse and Catmouse, and when I got the Miraculous from Hawkmoth, I put them away.

"My uncle helped me move here to start afresh… in Paris, everywhere I went, there were memories… And most weren’t happy. When I came here, life was great… I didn’t think I wanted another boyfriend but I did get one… And now I’ve broken up with him. He was perfect, and I was waiting for the imperfections, but… It turned into Paris II: Electric Boogaloo. He would disappear randomly, and it seemed like he was waiting till I was busy so I wouldn’t notice. I followed him once because he’d left something behind, but it was like he knew I was tailing him and he lost me. He never introduced me to his family — he said they were semi-estranged, but I can’t help wondering…

"So I grabbed a Miraculous and became Onyx; beating up bad guys is better than therapy, y'know? I just didn’t expect to be traced by the Miraculous’s signature by the Untitled.

“And now Gotham is becoming Paris,” she finished with a heavy sigh. “At least to me.”

After another silence, she gasped quietly. “I’m sorry for monologuing on you, you just felt… like a comrade, maybe? You give off safe vibes, anyways.”

The more she talked, the more she solidified his suspicion that Onyx was Marinette.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Onyx.” He didn’t want to say anything else, partially out of guilt, and partially to stop himself from explaining everything and throwing himself on her mercy and begging her to take him back.

“So, the Untitled?” Onyx cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, turning to see his (masked) face a bit better.

“Right. The Untitled are millennia-old evil sibling magicians who got their power from a well of evil. There are only eight members of the Untitled, but they are very old and powerful. They were enemies with the group who trained me, the All-Caste, and killed them all. They can’t be killed by normal means, but I have the All-Blades, which can defeat them. Do you have anything that can harm them, do you know?” Hood asked.

“I suspect the ‘Cataclysm’ power and perhaps ‘Clout’ or ‘Uproar’, and though I’d prefer not to test it in battle and find I’m wrong, I don’t know how else to confirm my hypothesis.”

“Then how about you stay in the background while I take on the Untitled with the All-Blades, and when there’s an opening you try your hypothesis?”

“I can do that. When are we going?” He asked her.

“Sooner rather than later, I think. When can you-”

“Okay, give me ten minutes,” Onyx interrupted. “I’ll get my Miraculous and meet you at the warehouse at the edge of Gotham, in the westernmost part of the Tricorner Yards. You can lure the Untitled there or something, right?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Ten minutes average or ten minutes on the dot?”

“On the dot. I have a very precise Miraculous.”

“…okay. See you in 10, Onyx.”

•○•○•○•

Ten minutes later, Onyx appeared in the shadows of the warehouse, where Jason was already in the middle of two Untitled, his glowing swords flickering in the dark and giving off an eerie vibe. The chill and sense of evil permeating the air didn’t help, either.

Onyx’s suit was now pure black, with thin stripes of red, magenta, and brown scattered around her suit.

“Cataclysm,” Onyx whispered and threw the ball of destruction at the Untitled on Jason’s rear.

The Untitled were now alerted to her presence and she moved swiftly from shadow to shadow. One began to approach her, and she instinctively activated the tiger’s power, ‘Clout’. The immense power from the magical punch knocked the being out, and Onyx turned her attention to the two Untitled who took the place of the previous duo already taken care of by Red Hood’s swords.

“Uproar!” she cried, hoping the power-disrupting ability would work on the beings as she tossed the circlet like a frisbee at them. Onyx breathed deeply in relief when she realised her powers did work on the Untitled and turned to face the remaining two, back to back with Hood.

They attacked at the same time, swirling black shadows with surprising speed, but Onyx had prepared a second Cataclysm and yelled “Jump!” at Hood as the Untitled reached them.

The Untitled almost crashed into each other and tried to stop themselves before they could collide. It was too late, however. Onyx and Hood jumped to the first level above them (superpowers handily granting them extra height), and watched as the same cataclysm turned both ghouls into nothing.

Hood exhaled jaggedly and turned to her. “You have some nice moves and those were some sick abilities!”

She grinned, a little winded from using three Miraculous at once, and replied, “You weren’t too bad yourself! Those swords sure are handy.”

“Yeah… Thank you for your help, Onyx. I couldn’t have taken them all down at once without you.”

She waved it off and swung down to the floor again. “It was my pleasure, I assure you. I’m thrilled one less group of weird power-hungry monsters is after my head.”

“If you want to team up for a night of regular vigilantism, that’d be cool. Or are you leaving, now that you’re safe again?”

“No, I��m here for another unforeseen amount of time,” she sighed, civilian life distracting her.

Hood didn’t want to have her dwelling on their breakup quite yet so he decided to distract her. “Hey, how’d you learn that flippy move you did back there? It was really cool.”

Onyx cheered up a little. “Really? Thanks. My uncle taught me, actually… I’d taken gymnastics for a couple years so I had a good base and then he built off that. I have a similar build to his daughter, so he taught both of us. I think you’d get along great… He does prefer a sword, but he’s still pretty handy with a gun.”

“Oh, maybe I’ve heard of him?”

“Uh…Slade Wilson?” Onyx asked hesitantly.

Deathstroke was Onyx’s uncle?!

“Your uncle is Deathstroke?!” he blurted.

Onyx chuckled guiltily. “Heh. Not by blood, my nonna just has a ton of connections with really strange people, and she introduced us a few years ago. He kinda adopted me, so I just call him uncle. Y'know, we only see each other a couple times a year. He likes to surprise me when he visits and keeps my skills sharp, so he usually makes sneak attacks. I’ve got a good eye for attempted assassinations thanks to it!” she said cheerily, rambling in her nervousness but somehow concerning him more.

Hood was a little more scared of Onyx after he learned that information.

Yeah, Talia al Ghul had adopted him, but she was less likely to come after Marinette just because she was dating her son. Also, he knew her.

Slade was protective of his children, even if he did nothing else as their father, and he was unpredictable.

Hood shivered and headed home chilled, looking over his shoulder a couple more times than he usually did.

•○•○•○•

Jason wandered aimlessly down the aisles, collecting items he remembered he needed and tossing them in his basket. Bread, yeast for when he was feeling less sad and went back to making his own, milk, oats, soap, bandages and ointment, coffee, chicken, ice cream.

He headed to the only checkout lane open and put his purchases on the conveyor belt. The bored and tired-looking young adult started soullessly scanning them while Jason rolled his eyes at a gossip rag loudly proclaiming Wayne family "news” on its cover.

He reached for his wallet and spun back to face the shadows. Slim, black hair, shadowy…Marinette?

He looked closer and grimaced at Cass.

“What are you doing here?” he signed, annoyance clear in his body language.

“Saw you going by and you looked sad, so I followed you. No one else knows,” she replied.

He frowned harder. “I’m fine. Just tired. And I told B not to contact me. I’ll talk to whomever of you I want when I want to, and I don’t want to talk to any of you right now,” he signed emphatically. “Thanks for checking on me, but I don’t need it.”

He turned back to the slightly bewildered-looking cashier, who had only seen him making gestures at the shadows, and rolled his eyes harder. Stupid Bats, always making him look foolish.

He grimace-smiled politely and handed over the cash, grabbing his bags and leaving immediately, feeling even more foolish for thinking Cass had been Marinette.

Marinette wouldn’t be near him willingly for a while. Clearly he needed to do something about that.

He’d been feeling more foolish in the past couple days than in the past couple years combined.

Marinette had told him she was a temp hero, Multimouse, and stayed in contact with her friends, who had been temporary and official heroes. She clearly still cared about them and knew they were heroes, yet didn’t act any differently. He could’ve told her his secrets, she would’ve understood and kept them, but he didn’t want to hurt her with them.

Well, if she was still friends with official heroes, she’d obviously weighed the risks and decided it didn’t matter. He should have let her choose in their relationship, too.

Marinette had good judgement (the only strike he had against that evidence was her agreeing to date him in the first place, but then again he’d always been a good actor out of necessity) and he trusted it, although he hadn’t really shown that.

Tired of waffling between should he talk to her/should he leave her in peace and never show his face in front of her again, he finally decided.

PART TWO

[willel]

What was the point for Vecna to possess Will and use him as a spy in S2? And after it failed and the particles escaped Will’s body, he isn’t mad at him (or Joyce, or Nancy) in S3 nor tries to flay him? The S2 plot doesn’t really make sense to me after S4.

I don't think we have all the puzzle pieces yet. There is still plot to be revealed that I'm sure will slot into place.

Here's something to consider. Season 2 is an extension of season 1 moreso than Season 3 and 4. You can place a separator between season 2 and season 3.

In season 1, Will is rescued from the Upside Down while the Demogorgon is distracted and defeated. Based on what we've seen of the Demogorgon in previous seasons, it would have definitely attacked and killed Joyce and Hopper if not for Nancy and Jonathan's plan (and later, El killing the goons attracting it with their blood)

Will being rescued probably wasn't the plan.

We see in season 2 after (and even a little before to be honest), Will becomes a bit antagonist against Joyce specifically.

Will hates the lab pretty much right away. Is it because the boys have told him all about El and the lab from season 1? Maybe. is it because he's spent a year going for suspicious "check ups" and just doesn't like it? Maybe. Is it because he's subconsciously being influenced to hate it? Maybe.

Right after he's possessed, despite how absolutely traumatic it is, Will sits at that table and lies right to Joyce's face probably for hours.

At some point off screen, he makes her promise not to take him to the doctor. We all know how Joyce is. How bad off must Will have been to get her to promise not to take him to a doctor??? Would Will really not want to go to a doctor after that happened to him??

And then the antagonism really starts seeping in for Joyce. Refusing to get into the tub she made for him for example. Skipping ahead to after the burn, the absolute hostility seeping from his body when he wakes up again.

Yelling at her specifically to let him go when they tied him up in the shed. Again, just glaring at her specifically and barely paying attention to anyone else.

Then we get to the exorcism and the first opportunity he gets, he tries to choke Joyce to death. Doesn't care about his restraints or Jonathan anymore, just goes straight for Joyce's neck and refuses to let go.

Going into season 3, Joyce has 0 encounters with the Upside Down at all. But Nancy does. And we saw that Henry sent two people close to Nancy to kill her specifically.

When she and Jonathan are being chased by that blonde haired one, he says "We're here for you Nancy Drew."

As he approaches, he's only going for Nancy and attacks Jonathan when he tries to protect her. (of course, a second one appears to kill Jonathan too, but I think Nancy was the initial target)

Then we got season 4. Again, Joyce has very little direct contact with the Upside Down stuff. But once again, Nancy does. When all of them are escaping into the Upside Down, he could've attacked any of the teenagers. But he goes after Nancy specifically and chooses Nancy as his messenger.

So here's what I think the actual deal is here and why there is a separator between Season 1/2 and Season 3/4.

It's El. El, Henry's arch nemesis, fully revealed herself AND slammed a door in his face. AGAIN.

This would be the second time where she's personally slapped him in the face (she destroyed the Demogorgon in season 1, but she didn't close the gate). I think this particular event royally pissed him off and completely changed his strategy.

I'm sure he hates the entire party, Joyce, Nancy, Jonathan, Hopper, all of them. They are thorns in his side, sure. If he had the chance to easily kill Nancy and Joyce now I'm sure he would GLADLY take it.

BUT, his hatred towards them pales in comparison to his hatred toward El. He was SO insulted by what El did to him that Joyce and Nancy became an afterthought.

Leading up to season 4, I think getting rid of El became his top priority after opening the gates. As long as she exists, someone will be there to stop his grand plans.

So where does Will fit into this? Well, I think Will is the through line. I think Will was originally taken because he's special somehow and Henry wants to use him as a vessel. Maybe BECOME him. Maybe he can no longer exist in the real world due to his changed body, so Will is meant to be his "avatar".

He has failed twice to do this now. I think it's been made clear to him that as long as the others are around, ESPECIALLY EL, then it's pointless trying to take Will for himself. They will always figure out his plan too quickly. They will always know how to exorcise him.

If this theory is true and Will is still a target of Henry, then Henry has played his cards perfectly. He has completely taken all of their attention off of Will. He's become the third wheel in his whole life. The end of season 4 was probably meant to serve as a massive hint that Will was NEVER in the clear and him being ignored by Henry was only temporary.

The team will be going into season 4 STILL not questioning why Will was taken in the first place. STILL probably thinking it was all a coincidence and Will was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. STILL not questioning why the hell Will is connected to the Upside Down shenanigans.

I think if the team doesn't quickly realize how odd Will's disappearance and survival really was.... if El doesn't put together the pieces that it was truly ALLLLL Henry from the very start.... if Will himself doesn't decipher Henry's intentions and thought process regarding him.... then Will will be in danger.

Season 5 can really tie all 4 seasons back together, or "come full circle" as the Duffers have said.

[sapphic-scylla]

A mid season tribute to my favorite Destiny 1 exotic that found its way back into my grasp after years of me waiting featuring my warlock, Seraphina. @ebevkisk

The Husk

As Eris dug into the secrets of the hive, Sera was by her every step of the way. Every ritual, every tribute, everything she did was to keep Eris’ head above water. This wore out Sera’s mind especially since her arm still bore the rune Savathûn marked, which she could feel flare as she tithed to Eris, the new Hive God of Vengence.

However, Sera found solace in her alone time she spent in her apartment. Her apartment was cozy yet filled with different relics and memories from past victories. The Blades of the Shield Brothers, a chunk of Atheon’s armor (properly quarantined), Oryx’s shattered blade, the list goes on.

Among them laid a shell of a weapon Sera once used. Ever since the Red War, the weapon had remained inert and refused to fire or even function. It had become an ornament as it sat in the corner.

This saddened Sera. The hun had felt alive and she had really bonded with the weapon in the years before the Red War. She used to wield it like an extension of herself and it depressed her for it to just become dormant, but nothing had worked to bring it back.

As Sera got ready for bed, she lamented and reflected on her journeyings, her thoughts turned to the past as she slowly drifted into a deep sleep.

A few hours later, Sera awakened to the sound of humming. As she searched for the noise, she lifted the covers and noticed the rune was glowing. As she stood up, a malevolent green glow resonated from the dormant husk in the corner. She drew closer and the weapon began to emanate an almost accepting energy as Sera placed her hand on the gun.

The rune flared and, as if it was giving power to the inert rifle, green aura began to seep into the gun. Then, the gun pulsed with a malevolent green glow as if it was waiting. As if it was hungry.

Any other guardian would have run. Any other guardian would have eaten their own ghost before touching another weapon of sorrow.

But not Sera.

Sera had seen horrors beyond the imagination. She had slain gods and traversed the abyss. That husk found its way into her possession as she crawled through the depths of the Hellmouth while she hunted the warlord that tore Eris’ fireteam and eyes from her. And instead of recoiling from the weapon’s starving aura, she leaned into it and grew attached to it. It was like a pet that fed on the souls of her victims.

As Necrochasm one again awoke from its slumber, Sera smiled. “Why, hello, old friend. It seems we have more work to do.”

[jrpneblog]

First home win for 126 days fails to paper over the cracks

North End completed their first league win at Deepdale since beating Swansea on November 1st but this was a far from convincing performance in front of 17,842. North End were a goal down at the interval and were booed off by a thoroughly dispirited home support only to fight back in the second half to claim victory through a Daniel Johnson penalty and a first league goal for Tom Cannon. It was certainly a relief for the Deepdale faithful to claim the three points but there were times in the game when North End looked seriously devoid of ideas on the ball and only claimed victory due to a decent twenty minute spell at the start of the second half. Substitute, Robbie Brady, was shown a second yellow card in time added on but North End saw it out and claim that all important home win and the three points.

Ryan Lowe made four changes to the side that drew at Hull City last Saturday with Diaby, Johnson, Lindsay and Parrott coming in for Hughes, Storey, McCann and Delap. It was a fairly even start to the game with Wigan battling hard, as you you would expect from a team at the bottom of the league, and not allowing North End the time and space to get any control in the middle of the Park. Cannon had a chance half way through the first half but it was the visitors who took the lead just before the half hour. Ledson losing possession in midfield allowing Tiehi to fire the ball across the North End goal with Cunningham steering the ball into his own net when trying to clear. Lang had a couple of efforts to increase Wigan`s lead but Woodman saved the first as the other flashed by the post. North End left the field to loud booing in their ears and some supporters in the Alan Kelly Town End with some supporters in the Alan Kelly Town End taking out their frustrations on the manager as he left the field.

No changes for North End at half time but the team came out fired up and were soon to reap their rewards as just five minutes in Daniel Johnson was brought down by Ben Amos in the visiting goal and the referee pointed to the spot. It looked a soft penalty but Johnson got up and dusted himself down to fire calmly past Amos and bring North End level. Less than five minutes later North End were in the lead when Alan Browne put Tom Cannon through in the inside right position and the on loan Everton striker accelerated away and fired in off the far post to give North End the lead. We were clearly on top at this point but failed to convert any further chances and as the game wore on Wigan came back into it. Woodman made an excellent save with just under twenty minutes to go. Wigan had a free kick in a really good position and had four corners near the end but in spite of finishing the game with ten men North End saw it out much to the relief of the home fans inside Deepdale.

So Ryan Lowe lives to fight another day after winning, what looked like, a must win game in front of a decent local derby crowd. However there was still much negativity towards the manager and his so called fast, free flowing football, and it will take more than this one Swallow to make it Summer again for Ryan Lowe and his relationship with the home faithful. If North End can follow this narrow victory up with another win on Tuesday evening against Coventry City at Deepdale then the pressure will ease further on the players and a degree of normality may return to the Deepdale terraces. Mark Robins outfit will provide stiffer opposition the Shaun Maloney`s I feel and it will be a good test for North End with just six home games remaining before the end of the season.

.

PRESTON 2-1 WIGAN ATHLETIC

.

WOODMAN 7

DIABY 6 LINDSAY 7 CUNNINGHAM 6

POTTS 6 BROWNE 7 LEDSON 5 JOHNSON 7 FERNANDEZ 7

CANNON 8 PARROTT 7

.

Subs:

BRADY 5

BAUER 6

STOREY 6

.

MOTM: Tom Cannon

Attendance 17,842

Preston Fans 14,121 (79.14%)

[ltwilliammowett]

USS Wasp vs HMS Avon, Battle at Moonlight, by Maarten Platje 2018

More about the battle below :

The Sinking of HMS Avon was a single ship action fought during the War of 1812 and took place on 1. September 1814. In the battle, the ship-rigged sloop of war USS Wasp forced the Cruizer-class brig-sloop HMS Avon to surrender. The Americans could not take possession of the prize as other British brig-sloops appeared and prepared to engage.

Avon sank shortly after the battle. The heavy sloop of war USS Wasp had spent seven weeks in Lorient in France, making repairs after an earlier hard-fought action against HMS Reindeer, and replacing casualties from the crews of American privateers in the port. Wasp sortied on August 27, and almost immediately was involved in action. Early on September 1, a convoy of ten merchant ships escorted by the ship of the line HMS Armada was encountered. Wasp made repeated attacks and succeeded in capturing one ship loaded with iron, brass and arms.

Later that day, as night was falling, Master Commandant Johnston Blakely, commanding Wasp, spotted four other unknown sail, and made for the nearest. The unknown vessel was the Cruizer-class brig-sloop HMS Avon, mounting sixteen 32-pounder carronades and two 6-pounder long guns. Wasp carried twenty-two 32-pounder carronades, two 12-pounder chase guns and a 12-pounder boat carronade removed from Reindeer. As Wasp approached Avon's quarter, the two vessels exchanged several hails, in which the Americans demanded that the British vessel heave to and shot from the bow and stern chase guns. Blakely eventually drew up alongside Avon, deliberately selecting the leeward position to prevent Avon escaping downwind.

It was fully dark by this time; the wind was fresh, and the sea was rough. Nevertheless, the American gunners were very accurate. After half an hour, Avon had been partly dismasted, one third of her crew were casualties and her guns had been silenced, many of the broadside carronades being dismounted. By contrast, although the battle took place at such short range that one American sailor was struck by wadding from a British carronade, only four shot struck the hull of Wasp and only three American sailors were wounded.

Three quarters of an hour after the start of the battle, Avon surrendered. While the crew of Wasp were lowering a boat to take possession, another unknown vessel was seen approaching, followed by two more. Wasp made away downwind while the braces which had been shot away were replaced. The nearest pursuer was the British brig-sloop HMS Castilian. The brig got close enough to fire an inaccurate broadside over Wasp's quarter, but Avon had been making repeated distress signals, and Castilian broke off to help. Avon's crew was taken off, and the shattered brig sank soon afterwards.

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Bo Sinclair x Female Reader

THIS is a NONCON fic. Please don't read and then get shocked at what you read. You are reading this at your own risk! You cannot get shocked at the content here if you are sensitive to NONCON and read anyways. I am not responsible if you choose to still read this and it's upsetting. Also, there is Forced Breeding included! Read at your own risk.

When I get an AO3, I will be posting this there.

Underthecut - NSFW, NON-CON, Cheating -forced- Oral -Female receiving- Forced Breeding/Forced pregnancy, Degradation. Tagged as Dark Fic

Sinclair Brothers College AU Part 2 Part 1 is here!

Bo will never forget that morning. Never forgot your angelic face buried into his brother's chest, Vincent's face buried into the top of your head, nose nuzzled into your hair.

His voice had hurt for the three days after all the screaming he had done, his knuckles bruised for weeks after he and Vincent drew blows.

He could still hear your screaming, this shrill piercing scream for him to stop. To stop hurting him, to stop hurting Vincent.

Not one scream for him, his well-being.

Bo left the room with a bruised lip and ego.

The image of you comforting Vincent, rubbing his knuckles, kissing his cheek burned in his head. He replayed it over and over.

Bo couldn't get over how everyone seemed to approve of the whole ordeal.

That friend of yours had come running up to you, congratulating you on finally getting with Vincent. Even her tall British boyfriend paid a compliment.

His own friends even poked fun, how stupid he was not to see Vincent slowly making his moves. Vincent and you at the Dairy Queen, you at his art show, how both of you spent hours at the library.

How'd he miss all that?

Bo walked into his dorm, slamming the door behind him as he whipped off his hat, he frowned as he flopped onto the bed. back against the wall as he took in the room.

The large varnished bricks painted a light blue, years of new coats of paint chipping off in the corners. The yellow fluorescent light struggling to light up the room, no doubt the same light from when the dorm was built.

Bo took in his brother's side. Neat, save for a few books littered around, a few on his desk, three on the floor, two on the bed, and Y/n's cellphone.

Bo shot up, eagerly rushing over to Vincent's bed, hands immediately on your phone. He held it in his hands, smirking at the pink phone case with a bear's face on the back. He swiped his thumb over the screen, he grits his teeth at the image of you and Vincent on your home screen. Vincent held his arm around you as he kissed your cheek.

"Putz," he mumbled to himself, Bo's thumb lingered over your lock screen. He pressed in the four numbers, "Shit. She must have changed it." Bo looked up, going over what your new passcode could be. The old one was the date you and him started dating. Bo made sure it was that, and that way he had access to your phone whenever you were careless enough to leave it about.

Bo smiled as he knew what the passcode was. If his brother was anything like him, he'd be just as possessive, "Ding!" Bo tapped his foot in excitement as your phone opened up, he went right to your gallery, brows turned down in disgust.

Picture after picture of you and Vincent. Some tame, others, Bo whistled at the picture of you sucking off Vincent. He hated it, seeing your pretty little face lavish his brother's cock, but for Bo, it was easy just to picture his own in its place.

Another photo, you with your legs spread, hand over your mouth, embarrassed as your pussy was covered in Vincent's seed.

Bo groaned, "Little fuckin' whore." He pressed his feet into the ground, steadying himself. He was taken back to when he'd do the same to you, make you beg for his cum to coat your needy pussy. He licked his lips as he could hear your little whines and begs.

"Cum on my pussy, Bo." Fuck and you sounded so perfect.

"Cum on my pussy, Vinny." He cursed as your voice played over in his head. Hating how easily he could hear your sweet voice be so dirty for his brother.

Bo kept scrolling, his stomach churned, cock-stiffening as he scanned more and more pictures.

Videos, ranging from thirty seconds to two minutes in length. He pressed one, the image of you riding his brother played immediately.

"Oh, Vinny, your cocks making me feel so full." Bo groaned, he turned up the volume to hear the vulgar slaps of your ass against his brother's pelvis. "Oh, Fuck Vinny." Bo watched as you fell onto Vincent's chest as he lifted you, fucking up into you at a fast pace.

Bo watched till the end, his ears burning as your moans and whimpers wafted through the shitty phone speaker. He palmed his erection as he watched Vincent cum deep in you, his brother's disgusting grunts and growls had him snarling.

Bo's eyes remained on the screen. They widened as Vincent pulled out, carelessly spreading your legs open to the camera, both your face and Vincent are not visible, but your pussy was bared. He watches as his brother's seed leaked out of you, hearing Vincent mumbling at what a good little princess you are, how you were made to used, made to be a good little cum dump.

Bo shook, knuckles going white as he held the phone. Your whimpering approval of Vincent's words, how Vincent scooped his cum back up into you...

Bo snapped out of his anger as a text popped up,

-Hey, meet you at the library, I'll only be able to study briefly, I have a surprise shift at the hospital.-

Bo tapped it, immediately taken to your messages with Dan.

Everything between you and Dan was mundane. Study dates that often included Herbert and just random memes.

He exited out, looking over all the people you've been texting. Your texts with him deleted, he huffed as he continued. That girl dating the tall British guy. That weird Billy kid, Freddy, your mom, your boss, and Vincent.

He sat down on his bed as he went through the texts. Some of the texts were mundane, how are you, I'm good. I love you and can't wait to see you.

Bo froze, laughing to himself, leaning back onto the bed as he read the recent texts,

-Remember those awful cramps I've been having? My doctor said it was birth control. I'll be going off it for a few weeks and will be getting that Implanon thing.-

Bo checked the date, "Two weeks ago." he said to himself as he kept reading.

-So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month.-

-That's okay. We can keep it safe for now. One day though you'll be off that stuff ;)-

Bo shook his head, of course, his brother would be on that train of thought. Getting you pregnant. Watching your belly grow with babe.

Bo seethed, hand running down his front, cock pulsing at the image of you, begging for his cum, asking him to impregnate you. Your belly swelling with the Sinclair seed, his large hand rubbing over you, kissing your cheek, amazed at the changes in your body.

Your tits swelling, begging for Bo to ease the ache in them. Cock stiffening as he suckles on your tender tits.

Bo's attention was snapped back to reality as the door's handle justled. He quickly exited out of the texts, turned off the screen, and threw the phone on the bed, burying his face into his pillow, grunting as his cock angled into the bed painfully.

Vincent stepped in, sneering at his brother. "She forgot something, I won't be long." He mumbled, hand going for your phone.

"Y'her lap dog or some? She can't come get it herself?"

"I don't trust you alone with her." Vincent gave your phone a once over before grabbing a few books, "I'll be gone tonight, I work late, so you can invite that 'cute' girl from the bar." Vincent coughed as he finished his sentence.

"Yeah, yeah..." Bo eyed his brother, pulling his pillow closer into his face.

"You didn't touch this, did you?" Vincent waved the phone around, giving it a once over.

"Why would I touch her shit?"

Vincent shrugged his shoulders, "Bye," He opened the door, "Oh, and Lester is inviting us to a barbeque, he expects you to be there."

Bo flinched as his brother slammed the door. He sat up, freeing his cock, the images of you and Vincent still in his mind, the image of himself pushing Vincent away to replace Vincent's seed with his own...

"The library..." he said to himself, the image of you at the library, pushed over onto one of the corner desks, hidden away from everyone, his cock buried deep inside, pleading with him to cum inside.

Bo gripped the base of his cock, squeezing to let more of his precum drip out, watching as it fell along the side.

"That'd look a lot better in the place it belongs."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Vincent stood in front of the campus library, he ran his hands up and down your sides, pinching your ass when he dipped low.

"Vinny!" He playfully pinched his arm, kissing his cheek as you giggled.

"Can't help it, you're so cute." He kissed you again, tongue wrapping around yours, he pushed you closer into himself, your moan being suppressed by the kiss.

You reluctantly pulled away, "I gotta meet Dan. I need his help with my paper. Thanks for getting my phone."

Vincent nodded at you, kissing your cheek again, "I know, I don't want you near him, either."

You nod into his chest, inhaling his scent, linseed oil, and his farmer's market shampoo. You hum as he begins to sway you back and forth.

"I gotta go, see you tomorrow," He pulls away, hand rubbing over your cheek, his eye taking in your sad ones. "Be safe getting home."

"I will!" You shared a kiss goodbye as you excitedly entered the library.

You waved to norman at the front desk, he briefly looked up to give a small smile before returning to his large ornithology book on his desk.

You grinned and waved as you caught sight of Dan. He was in his scrubs with his Starbucks in his hand, smiling at you.

"I can help you for the next hour before I gotta go," He began as you sat in front of him, "Then I got my shift an-"

"Yes at the hospital, I know I know." You sat and opened your books, Dan grabbing one to flip through it, scanning for the important passage,

"Here, you'll want to start here, copy it, and then grab two more sources from the encyclopedias. Has to be from the books, not online."

You rubbed your temples, "Yeah, that's, a lot to take in."

Dan chuckled, "That's the advanced course for you."

You tapped your pencil on the paper of your books, "So, you hear about Brahms and his girl? The fight they had!"

Dan perked up, brown eyes filled with wonder.

The two of you immediately filled your time with gossip, the mention of Brahms's girlfriend and Billy was the only thing being studied.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bo strolled up to the library, "Twenty minutes to closing..." He shrugged his shoulders as he entered.

He looks around, the lights dimmed, the desk lamps off, save for the few remaining students.

"Can I help you?" Bo snapped his head to the thin, pale man at the front desk.

"Ah, yeah, where are the books on, like art and stuff," Bo looked at the nameplate, "Norman." Bo fumbled with his hands in his pockets.

"In the back," Norman gestured his head behind him, "In section eight hundred to eight hundred and fifty. Don't be long, we are closing soon." Norman sneered as he shuffled the papers on his desk.

"Yeah, thanks." Bo shook his head, as he caught Norman giving him a once over.

Bo clenched his fists as he heard Norman mumble "I don't even think he can read."

He made his way around the library, ducking behind the rows when he thought he saw you, any girl that resembled you had his heart clench in shock.

"No, Vinny, I can't talk right now, text it to me instead." Bo froze, his feet heavy, your voice was curt, he heard you grunt, knowing you just hung up on his brother.

Bo followed the voice, finding you tucked away in the private study area, the tables up against the walls, the lights were severely dimmed, Bo wondered how in the hell you could see the paper in front of you.

He carefully watched his steps, inching slowly behind you, grateful you were distracted in the book, grateful you secluded yourself so far away from everyone else.

A wolfish grin spread over his face, standing over you, he leaned in, hands snaking over you, rushing to silence your mouth,

"Hey, Sweets, miss me?"

Your blood went cold, eyes bulged, you attempted to turn but Bo held firm.

"Miss me? Huh? Ah, maybe you need to look at me first." He whispered into your ear, placing a feather-light kiss.

You retched away, guttural noises being silenced as Bo put a hand around your neck.

"Ah, no no, c'mon now, that any way to react to me? C'mon sweets, you used to beg me, beg me not to leave you, cry whenever I missed a date, moan for my cock to make you come." He chuckled as you squirmed in his arms, the chuckle turning into a soft laugh as you reached for your phone.

"Grabbing your phone for me? How nice of you, Sweets!" Bo whipped you around, slamming you onto the table as he chucked away the books, thankful they didn't fall onto the floor.

You began kicking at Bo, the panic making your blood run hot, giving you a surge of strength.

You knew Bo, knew how much stronger he was, knew you couldn't fight him off. The look in his eyes as his body leaned forward onto yours, chuckling off your kicks.

"Ah, hey, calm down," Bo squeezed on your neck, kissing your cheek as you sputtered out a whine, choking as you gasped for air.

Bo grabbed your phone, your eyes burning as he easily tapped the four-digit code to open it, he went right to the gallery, opening up the video of you and Vincent, "Look at you," The video played, Bo held the phone to your face, forcing you to look, "Taking my brother's cum in your slutty little pussy. Fuck what a good whore you are."

He exited out of the video, going to your texts, "So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month." He read aloud as he shook his head, "tsk tsk, and I bet you are still fucking, even when it's not safe. I mean, if my brother's anything like me, he won't wanna wrap that shit up."

Tears pooled in your eyes, slowly falling along the sides into your hair. Your eyes pleading with him, 'don't do this, please.'

Bo huffed as he pulled down your skirt, panties coming along with it. He took in your pussy, licking his bottom lip as he caught a glance at your shaved pussy, thankful that his brother has the same taste as him. "You look so good, that pussy nice and clean for me, gonna look good with my seed spilling out."

"I'll let you breathe properly if you promise to be quiet, can you do that for me?" His baby blues stared into your eyes, you wanted to hurl as you saw a sick softness to them.

"I'll, b-be- go-good." You choked. You gasped in sweet relief as bo removed his large hand from your neck. Your phone in his hand was held to your face as you realized he was filming.

"You better open up these legs for me, little whore like you should be used to spreading her legs, hm? Taking my brother's cock while dating me. Well, you can have my cock again, and I'm gonna make sure you'll never fucking forget this. Like I'll never fuckin' forget waking up to you." Bo placed the phone down, propping it up against your books, "With cum dripping out your pussy in Vincent's arms."

You looked away as you heard Bo's belt clink his zipper coming undone, "I can easily scream,"

"Scream? ha, the place is practically empty at this point, who's gonna come as you scream? 'Norman' I can tell he's already too self-absorbed to care for another." Bo leaned down, his breath hot over your cunt.

"Please don't, Bo please, I'll do anything!"

His signature cocky grin spread over his lips, "Oh, you will, first, I get a taste of this," He plunged his tongue in, a soft moan as your taste hit his tongue, his eyes looking up at you, then to the phone.

You squirmed as your walls involuntarily pulsed around his tongue. You squeezed your eyes shut, hips shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit.

"You taste so good, fuck better than I remember," He sucked hard, laughing as you whimpered. "See, little slutty body like your can't help but react."

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, Bo's large hand roaming your body, dipping under your shirt, sliding under your bra to squeeze your breast.

"Fuck it feels good too, remember how you used to beg me to suck on them?" He pinched your hardening nipple, "Look at the camera." He cooed.

He dipped two fingers into your heat, making you groan as he pressed down and sucked hard on your clit.

You breathed heavily through your nose, fighting the urge to let out a wanton moan. Tears flowed as your hips voluntarily bucked into Bo's face, his tongue sending wave after wave of euphoria through you that not even Vincent could manage.

Bo shook his head, a raspy moan muffled by the lewd noises your pussy made as he fingered you. He looked up, smirking into you, your pussy clenching around his fingers, how you covered your mouth to fight back the deep moan.

You ran your hand through Bo's brown hair, he moaned, taking the action as approval for his ministrations. You pushed on him, your airy moans muffled by your palm as you came. Bo stayed latched onto your clit, suckling and flicking it, tongue deep to your cunt to lap at you, groaning as it pulsed around his muscle.

Bo shot up, licking his lips of your cream, "Ah, see that, wanna taste?" You shook your head, mouth a no. He leaned in, one hand angling his cock while the other grabbed your neck.

His tongue wrapped around yours, muffling the whine as he slammed into you, his cock stretching you out, a slight burn mixed with pleasure.

Bo wasted no time, slamming hard into you, his cheeks pink as he groaned into the kiss, he lifted his head, "Ah, fuck, needy little pussy fuckin' missed me. Ah shit, I fuck." He grunted above you, his body pressing you into the table, "Fuck, it missed me, fuck it missed me."

You sobbed under him, your mind going to Vincent, trying to picture it was Vincent on top of you, it was you and Vincent making love in the library, not Bo. Not Bo sending waves of familiar pleasure through you, his cock stretching you out.

"Please, don't cum in me, Bo, please don't."

"Wah? cum in you? Sure, I can do that, after all, your little pussy was made for it." He sneered at you, a dark look flashed over him.

You punched at him, "I'll scream."

"You scream and that video gets sent to Vincent. Doesn't matter I'm hav-having m-my way with y-you." He stuttered between thrusts, "Just a video of you getting impregnated by his older brother. He won't want you."

You sobbed as tears spilled as you turned away from him, Vincent flashed in your mind. His smile, his light blue eyes, his hands holding yours.

Your body tensed as Bo's cock felt intoxicating, the familiar rhythm, his harsh kisses, mind being taken back to you on his bed, how he'd hiked your legs over his shoulders as he pushed them onto your chest, a cocky grin as he fucked you deep.

"Bo," You whimpered, "Please," you continued "Just not inside."

He slammed harder, groaning as you clenched around him, "Feels like it wants it inside. Don't lie to yourself, Sweets."

You couldn't, the tears fell, you whimpered Vincent's name, "Hurry, Bo."

Bo couldn't hold back, your sexy little body squirming under him, your pussy clenching around him, your spent leaking onto the table, your stifled moans. "Look at the camera as you cum, look as I cum in you," He turned your head towards the phone, tears freely falling Bo licked your cheek.

His breathing, his thrusts, his cock filling you so well, his raspy praise. You stared, "I'm sorry, Vincent." You scrunched your face as Bo positioned in and out, a low groan reverberated from his chest.

Bo laughed as he came, his seed painting your insides, coating your pink walls, picturing it shooting deep into your womb, his little swimmers getting to work.

You fought back the urge to barf, his cum filling you send a ripple of pleasure through you.

Bo hissed as his breathing slowed, the realization of your nails digging into his shoulders, came to his senses. He slowly pulled out, grabbing the phone, to capture his seed dripping out of your pussy.

He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing, a threat. He continued to film, "Ah, look at that, good little slut getting bred. Just like she was made too."

Bo brought the camera to your face, "Say, 'Hi, Vincent!' ha" he laughed as you kept your vision off him and the camera.

"it's okay, I know you're thinking of getting that plan B. But you'll be coming with me tonight, I'm gonna make sure my seed takes." Bo released your neck, thumb running over your lips as you coughed.

"Get dressed, we're gonna get a hotel, this is from over." He leaned in to kiss your cheek, "My good girl, mine again." He hugged you as he sent the video to his phone. He laughed as he felt you shake in his arms,

"I wonder what Vincent will do when he sees this, gosh I can only imagine." He hummed and swayed you back and forth, "You'll look great with my child in you, can't wait, ah you'll be so beautiful."

[babytaes]

afterglow

➳  summary:  You, too, lived in a colorless world, trying to connect with it. How long would you have to wait for that one to brighten it up and let you see the real world?

❥  pairing: wonwoo x female reader

❥ genre: angst, fluff, kinda soulmate au.....?

❥ word count: 7k (sorry, mans is my bias and I had to ;)

❥ warning: mentions of death.

➳ part of the song series

↳  Imagine a world like that,

We go like up 'til I'm 'sleep on your chest

Love how my face fits so good in your neck

You had a twin brother who was everything to you. Everything was always you two, from the endless amounts of laughter to the sneaky efforts to take Christmas cookies early in the morning.

With him, everything seems to be so colorful; in your lifetime, everyone was given a companion who may be a friend, sibling, or lover. It was simply something that you treasured. As a result, the alternatives were numerous.

You had no idea how much his life meant to you. He was your second half, and now you'd been split in half, with one gone and the other remaining.

Months passed, and your relationship with him became increasingly dimmer and dimmer. The brilliant hues faded in and out, with black and white patches becoming more prominent.

That awful day, unfortunately, was the last time you saw color. His light had faded from the world, and all that was left was black and white.

With him gone, your entire life seemed pointless, even your day-to-day existence. No splash of color to brighten things up.

“Y/N, I'll never forget you, big sister. Thank you for the enjoyable and considerate memories, and don't let this stunt your growth, please do that for me. As the beeper went off, he began to cough incessantly.

“Helpppp anyone.” As your parents draw you back into their arms, you hear many doctors rush into the room.

There was nothing they could do; his hue had vanished from this world. When you opened your tear-streaked eyes and examined your hands, you noticed that the formerly vivid cream palms had turned gray.

As if all colors were abruptly bleached out of the world, revealing a universe of whiteness—the rainbow, flowers, trees, and art, everything freshly bleached and pearled. The last vestige of color had vanished from your life, and you had been broken since then, heartbroken over the loss of your dearest friend.

“Y/n, hey you're good, we could use your help.” As you glanced to the side, you noticed that one of your employees had just spilled some water from the mop bucket.

As you approach their side, you assist them in mopping up the mess while sweeping aimlessly across the floor, making sure to get every spot. Due to your new life of no color it reflected on your life emotionally.

As the days passed, you became increasingly depressed and unmotivated. There wasn't a single day when you didn't feel mopey or lonely. It wasn't like anyone could help me; it was just the challenge of living a life without color.

Although you sincerely desired to overcome this phase of your life and simply find the right person to fill that void, life did not work in your favor at the time. Everyone around you seemed to be looking for or had already found their "person."

All you wanted was to find the person who could restore your hope and love, which had been taken away when your brother died. Your parents did everything they could to assist you, including setting you up on strange and ineffective dates that just added to your unhappiness.

Nobody could replace that color that your brother provided for you, or maybe someone could? 

"I'm off," you remarked as you pulled off your apron and clocked out in the back. As you stepped out the door, you heard a flurry of goodbyes before closing it behind you.

The world never shifted when the clock struck five.

As you strolled down the crowded streets, the sky before and above you remained grey, never letting up that cloak of shade. A melodious music gradually pours into your ears as you go down the bustling sidewalk.

You follow the dazzling yet tranquil sound of the guitar aimlessly as you imagine music notes flying through the fall air. You cautiously open your tired eyes and spot the crowd to figure out where these tunes are coming from.

Looking up, you spotted a swarm encircling a male, but you couldn't tell who it was. However, it was the music that drew you in; you'd heard that melody before. Even if you weren't musically inclined, you could hear that tune anywhere.

It was his, the one he wrote for you.

--

You dashed outside to see your brother strumming a tune on the grass with his guitar. Your brother possessed a talent for music. It is a condition that many people are born with, and you were fortunate that your brother was one of them.

He didn't go a day without making up or humming something he'd learned. It was frustrating to hear it every day, but it was still lovely to witness his enthusiasm for it.

“Hey, what are you cooking up this time?”  As he began to strum the guitar, he turned around and grinned at you. You couldn't understand what he was mumbling, but it sounded lovely as his fingers casually slid across the strings.

“I don't have the lyrics yet, but I'm sure they'll come. You laughed and nudged his shoulder.

“Just don’t go play at 3 in the morning. Okay?”

“It's not my fault that's typically when the inspiration comes,” he grumbled as he rolled his eyes.

As you raced away from him, you swiftly took his guitar, saying, "Well, I guess that inspiration will have to wait." He leapt from his seat and dashed towards you, yelling your name.

You had no idea that would be his final song; you regret not listening to the finished product; you never knew if he finished it. However, when you got closer to the enticing sound, you observed a young man strumming a guitar, and your ears perked up.

A slender man with long fingers and a quirky side smile, perhaps a musician, delicately touched a golden acoustic guitar, playing her ever so elegantly. You stand there, enthralled by the song, as his hands strum and tug the steel strings of the guitar. You take a cautious step closer to him in order to get a better look.

Allowing the music to take control of your body, you take a deep breath and allow an ounce of hope to creep in. From miles away, the formerly lovely and alive girl could be seen racing to you as you opened your arms to her.

You tried desperately to reach her before she vanished into thin air. The glint had disappeared. As you slowly open your eyes, you notice the man stop playing and gazes up at the audience.

As a smile crept across your face, the edges of your lips began to curl up. You'd forgotten what a smile looked like; you hadn't seen one in a long time, and it just felt natural. Even though he was gone, you could sense his presence. As you began to back away from the mob, tears began to flow freely from your eyes.

As you faded from his view and moved away from the crowd, the boy cast a peek at you. You swear you saw a glimpse of color rushing through your orbs, even if it was just for a split second. You couldn't tell if this was a joke or a new experience for you because you were more terrified than excited.

Could you trust that vision? Would they leave your life like he once did or would they stay? (IT)

Although you wanted to stay and figure it out you had somewhere to be and you didn’t want anyone to waste that special time.

(1 hour later)

Opening the rusted gate and looking at the wrought iron fences sends shivers down your spine as you are whisked back to that tragic day.

--

As you headed towards the pit, a crack formed in your heart. As they lowered his casket into the black abyss, the steady steps of feet carried it there. Countless shadowy figures form a procession, speaking in unison to pay their respects to the one you cherish. Your inner essence is corrupted by despair, and your heart bleeds like a river inside. Nothing could ever make you feel better.

As they began to fill the hole with dirt, tears welled up in your eyes, prompting you to lower your head. He didn't want you to be sad; he knew his time was coming to an end, yet he felt so safe in his final days.

He wasn't going to abandon you; he'd promised you that he'd left you something to aid you along the path. Even if that were the case, you never discovered it after four years. You rummaged through his room and tore it apart.

You quickly recognized that he was either joking or that the drug had taken effect in his brain and he was talking gibberish. In any case, you made a pledge to visit his grave every day from that day forward to keep him company and to keep yourself sane.

---

Clutching onto your bag, the leaves crunched beneath your feet as you peered about. You see specks of people strewn throughout the cemetery as you hear some speak in low whispers. It didn't take you long to find his gravestone.

You noticed the dead flowers drooping over as you took them out of their vase beside the tomb. Replacing them always brought joy to your heart as the sight of a fresh bouquet of flowers brightened the somber ambiance, which contrasted with the mold-infested tomb.

Taking out your cleaning supplies and speaker, you start working on his tomb while listening to his favorite music. As you hummed along with the song, your soft-bristle brush softly scrubbed the headstone in an orbital motion from bottom to top, carefully avoiding the fissures.

As you finished the soap, you began to rinse the stone as dirt and debris began to fall off the tomb. Although you couldn't determine if everything was off, you could plainly see the phrases and symbols, which was a good hint to stop cleaning everything off.

You wanted to do more for him and not leave any dirt on the surface. But because everything was gray, you couldn't tell, which made you sulk as you put down your brush. As you check the clock on your phone, you exhale a sigh of relief.

7:23p.m

Looking around, you noticed the stragglers had dispersed, leaving you alone as you gazed up at the sky.

“I hope the sunset looks beautiful today, I do miss it.”

The late evening sunset was the one thing you missed more than your brother; you had always admired how everything just flowed and fit together in the evening sky. It's almost as if someone began painting and simply let their hand float through the air.

As you turned to face his tomb, another smile appeared on your face, prompting you to go into your bag for something. As you placed down a cup for you and him, you chuckled at the bottle revealed beneath the sky.

“Lucas, here's to another day. It's been difficult in recent years, but today was a good day. I sensed your presence through the music of some random person; it was strange, but I'm glad I was there to see it. So thank you,” you say, raising your shot glass in the air and taking a sip.

As you heard a voice, you wiped a stray tear from your face.

“I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Shit, what the hell,” you cursed the dark figure, startled and terrified. Who is there? As you squint your eyes at him, a male emerges from the shadows.

It's him.

----

You cough as you stand up and face the nameless man, he extends his hand as his glasses slide down his narrow nose, “Hi I’m Wonwoo.”

You take his hand in yours and shake it slowly, his grip firm until you let go.

“Hi..wonwoo? “I'm Y/n.” As the boy grinned at you, your voice was barely audible.

He takes a careful step alongside you and sits down close to your brother's grave, placing a case beside him. As you enlarged your eyes and sat down next to him, still observing him, the atmosphere felt reassuring but strange.

“I apologize for startling you; I didn't know that you were there. I’m not sure if your brother mentioned me but I was his friend, we used to write songs together.” As he turned to face you, you noticed the tall man attempting to cross his legs.

You shook your head as you began to gather your belongings, unsure of who this man was. For all you knew, he may be lying to you, so you needed to get out of there as soon as possible. You rose up and began walking away after securing the zipper on your backpack.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave. I can come back another time. I am truly sorry if I interrupted anything."

“No, it's fine,” you say with a shake of your head and outstretched hands.

“Are you sure?”

You walk away again, nodding your head as you hear his voice and a familiar tune.

You came to a halt in your tracks as you slowly turned around to face the boy after hearing a faint melody. As your ears perked up, you heard a low voice.

‘I stand still before you before me. I’m okay, not okay..” The lyrics faded out as you started to find your bearings again as you made your way out of the cemetery. As you stepped toward the road, you strapped your bag on, making sure you had everything you needed.

A girl out on a walk is something you can see every day, yet you were unique. You walked as if you and the road had reached an agreement, as if the concrete was more than eager to support your feet.

The road understood you.

*Ping*

The light of your phone lit up as you clicked on the message.

Mom: Hey sweetie, I dropped off some food at your apartment and did some tidying up. Get home safety. 

You: Thanks mom.

Her message brought back memories of days when you and her would cook together and simply bond over the end result. You missed it. Because you live in different places, you don't get to see your parents very frequently, yet they always made time for you.

I wish you could do the same; home is just too much for you to stomach, and you'd rather avoid it.

You reach the corner street after a few more steps, ready to begin your one-mile trek home. As you look back after exhaling a sigh, you hear rumbling on your feet. An automobile approached you, its bright headlights blazing directly at you.

You shifted to the side, squinting your eyes at the sight, and wonwoo greeted you again before you realized it. He grinned at you with his dazzling whites as he bent his head down.

what is with this guy?

Hey, hop in, I'll give you a ride. It's becoming late, and I don't want you walking through here.”  As you took a step back, wary of the stranger, he moved his hand closer to you.

“Um.. No-no I’m okay. However, thank you.” As you heard his engine trailing behind you, you began to walk faster. He followed you for a few seconds longer before you came to a complete halt and stared at him.

Through the windshield, you could see him smirk as he waved his hand to you.

“It'll be a lot faster, and if you're worried I'll kidnap you or anything, don't fret. I'm allergic to cats, and I'm a cat person myself. As a result, I assure you that I will not harm you. I just wanted to help a friend.” You moved over to his car, smiled a little, and hopped in, securing yourself with your seatbelt.

“If you do anything I have some bleach and I’m not afraid to use it,” he chuckled at you as he started the car and proceeded to exit the cemetery.

“You’re funny.”

As you gave wonwoo your address he proceeded to drive out of the rural neighborhood as you put your head on the window. You didn't realize it at the time, but you could feel his penetrating glances.

The car was quiet as the low sounds of music vibrated through the car. When you weren't driving, car journeys were the best since they enabled your mind to fantasize and paint over the enormous landscape you were seeing. That haven you built in your imagination calms you and makes you feel protected. The place where you may get away from reality.

As soon as your eyes close for the night, you hear him humming a familiar tune. Rather than remaining silent, you begin a conversation with him, inquiring as to how he learned the song.

“So how did you meet Lucas?” As he laughed, he cast a peek at you.

“Well, I met him at a college party a long time ago and discovered he makes music, so we used to meet up at a friend's studio and just create.” You lightly chuckled as a tear fell down your face as you nodded your head.

It was good to hear other people talk about your other half; it was almost as if he was there with you right now.

You were worried when he gave you brief glances since his eyes were off the road, but as he spoke, you felt protected because he spoke highly of your brother.

“Well, I'm not sure if he mentioned you, but the last song we were working on was one he wrote for you, and he said it was a gift.” As you turned to face him after hearing that final statement, your eyes widened.

“He—he said those exact words, a gift?”

As he rounded the corner and approached your apartment complex building, he shook his head. You could see his shoulder resting on the window sill as he put the car in park.

You hesitantly walk out of the car, stuttering as you gather your belongings, and turn to face him.

“Thank you for the ride; did Lucas mention anything else about the song?” “He wasn't quite finished with it, but he did give me and my other friend some crucial stuff to get it done,” he said as you pressed your face closer to the window.

Your heart began to race as you realized that things were beginning to turn around for you; perhaps this wonwoo boy was destined to be in your life. Lucas' way of demonstrating that he took great care of you.

“Would you like to work on it together sometime?”

Inside, it felt as if the creatures were finally waking up from their rehabilitation and making their way into the real world. Even if it took a while, this new form of relief made you feel alive again. You were adamant about working more to reclaim your color.

In some way, wonwoo was the key to it all. 

“Yes, a hundred times yes,” you answered, smiling like a kid in a candy store as you handed him your phone. “Just let me know when you're free.”

Wonwoo returned your phone to you, which you joyfully accepted and placed in your pocket. As you walked to your door, you waved your hand at him and cried out to him one final time.

“Thank you”

“For what?” As you entered the flat and locked the door behind you, you waved your hand at him. You let out a sigh and shake your head as you slid down to the floor.

“What a day” 

---

(4 weeks later)

It seemed like you and wonwoo had entered a very unique connection in the last few weeks. He made every effort not to cross any boundaries, both physically and emotionally. Regardless of the fact that you were his closest friend's sister, he was always respectful to you.

Even if that is what he sees from his perspective, you felt more alive when you were with him. Although you could still see gray and couldn't bask in all of his glory, it gave you hope that one day, whenever that time came, you'd be able to see him and everything else.

That was something you lacked previously: hope. Everyone around you including your parents could see a significant change in your life.

--

“Hey, honey, how's it going at work?” Before taking your purse, your mother kissed your cheek and opened the door for you.

As you met her at your old house, a smile emerged on your face. It was your first visit home in a while, and seeing you there brought joy to their hearts, despite the difficult years you've had.

“Everything has been going well, and I just wanted to drop by and see how you're doing. I miss seeing you and dad.”

“Is that my beautiful daughter, am I seeing things right?” your father exclaimed as he emerged from the back. As a tear trickled down your cheek, you watched as he raced over to you and hugged you.

As he stared at your face and admired it, the hue in front of you remained gray.

“Such lovely brown eyes,"  It pained your soul that you couldn't remember what they looked like since gray dulled everything and made you forget.

“Thank you, dad, but instead of fawning me, let's play some games. Just because life is bleak doesn't mean I can't be your ass at Monopoly.”

Your mother, gasping at your remark, watched from the back, her eyes welling up with tears as she marveled at a sight she hadn't seen in a long time.

“Moooom, don't start sobbing or dad will start crying,” you said as you turned around.

She comes over to your side and wraps you and your father in a hug, sandwiching you between them. It felt good because you were missing these times with your folks. You couldn't stay at home when your brother died; you had to leave and get away. Everything was just too much for you as things started to remind you of him.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“I'm really proud of you for coming here and having the confidence to do so. I understand how difficult it must be for you, but thank you.” Through the loud sniffles between you all, you started to feel warm as you wiped your tears.

“All right, no more crying; let's get down to business.” You dashed over to the couch and snatched up Monopoly from the board game box, motioning for them to join you. They chuckled as you began to pull everything out as they made their way over.

As loud yells and laughter echoed out throughout the home, the night was fresh and enjoyable. There were times when you were terrified you'd lose, but you couldn't let your champion status lapse.

Your mother said, "Noo, you're cheating."

“No, I'm not; there's a house there, and you need to pay up or I'll put you in jail.” Between the two, your father snickers and keeps his mouth shut. He was well aware of the rules.

“All right, but that wasn't there before.”

With a chuckle, you shook your head and held out your hand, saying, "excuses excuses."

As you turned off your alarm, it rang at 8:00 p.m. You wouldn't have realized the difference between night and day if it hadn't been for alarm clocks. You jumped up in triumph after placing one more piece on the board.

“And that's why I remain Monopoly's ruler.”

You witnessed your parents give up as they lifted their hands in surrender. They both remark, "Fine, you win," as they begin to clean up the mess. Taking the stray cups and bowls from the tables you set them in the sink as you turned to watch your parents.

It's been a long time since you've been back here, and you've certainly missed the atmosphere. Lucas wouldn't want me to miss out on this opportunity.

“Why don't I come on weekends and bring back board game nights?” As your parents turned back, you uttered, "Next time, I'll bring a friend."

“Oh, it would be wonderful; the more the better.”

As you walked back over to them, you hugged them as they kissed your head.

“You go, we'll take care of this; the drive back is long,” your father remarked as he took your bag and handed it to you.

“Thank you guys, and I love you and the night we just had.” As you approached the door, you waved goodbye before closing it.

“No thank you, love,” your mother said as she and your father watched you leave the home and get into your car.

After one last look at the house, you back out of the driveway and go down the street, looking forward to the day ahead.

Studio day!

--

You yawn as your body startles you up after taking a deep breath of fresh air. As you slowly open your eyes and look out the window, you breathe a sigh of relief. Something felt different. The chirping of the birds outside made you feel cheerful, not sad.

As your vision remained a little lighter, you began to blink your eyes faster. It wasn't your typical gray morning, and you thought it was growing lighter. The gray was gradually dissipating. You grinned as you considered your color returning.

What prompted this?

It didn't matter because today was dedicated to finishing your song; you, wonwoo, and his friend Mingyu had completed all but the title. You stretch one more time before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you get to the mirror, you take a look at yourself. The person in front of you had radically transformed; she had forgotten about her flaws and insecurities, and her heart now held more love. This woman didn't pick apart everything that was wrong with her; instead, she supported herself.

She was unrecognizable, and the old girl in the mirror was finally slipping away. You began to smile more frequently and laugh a little more, and the air around you became warmer rather than frigid. Someone's love had seeped into her heart and begun to unfreeze its hardness.

And that person was wonwoo, which you didn't realize until you looked in the mirror. If you've observed it, chances are that others have as well. And you were grateful for his help in getting you out of that gloomy situation. You were able to regain your trust and begin letting people in again, which made you pleased.

Lucas would be incredibly proud of you, and you didn't want to disappoint him again. You intended to honor his memory and keep him alive in your heart, rather than allowing the past to plague you and prevent you from living your life.

He would have wanted that. 

As you stepped inside, you turned on the shower and stripped off your clothing. You had to find a method to repay wonwoo for his compassion. You would not have gotten this far without him and his musical gift, and you were grateful for him.

"I could take him to our place," you offer as you turn off the water and grab a towel from the shower.

“Yeah he would like that.”

----

Work seemed to fly by as your mind raced at a hundred miles per hour. You had everything planned out and had recruited the support of your parents to help you set up.

Your manager tapped your shoulder and asked, "Hey y/n, you okay?" As you dropped the pencil, you flinched.

“Oh sorry, just spacing out.” He shook his head as he spoke out, “For the rest of your shift you can take off if you want, we’re going to close earlier than usual. If you're leaving, clean out the coffee machine and be on your way.”

You enlarged your eyes as your jaw dropped, and you raced into his arms, squeezing him tightly. Your boss chuckled awkwardly as he gently pushed you away from him. For some reason, everything seemed to be working in your favor today. As you rush to get ready, you begin working on the machine, your smile never leaving your face.

You sped to the back room, clocking out and placing your apron into your locker, as you were done in no time. As you walked to the front, you waved goodbye to your manager before heading to your car in the parking area.

“What's the matter with her? That's the first time I've ever seen her that happy. Hmm”

And with that you were on your way to your parents house as you sent a quick text to wonwoo. As you grinned as you placed your phone in the dash holder, you came to a stop light.

You: Hey cancel today's session, I have a place to go to. It may also provide us with better title recommendations. You down??

Wonwoo:) Yes, that sounds excellent; the studio can become claustrophobic. Send me the address and a time frame for my arrival.

You: *address name*. Bring your guitar and meet there in 2 hours.

Wonwoo:) Oh okay. Can’t wait to see you there!

(read 5:45 p.m.)

Even though you weren’t nervous you wanted everything to be special, wonwoo deserved it for all that he has done for you in the past weeks.

You let yourself go as you blast songs down the road, pressing play on your playlist. You didn't notice it at first, but the color was gently sneaking in as you drove around. As creams and beige colors drifted in and out, the outsides of your eyes began to lift.

As you turned off the headlights and opened the door, it didn't take long for you to arrive at your destination. You smiled as you got your belongings from the car and made your way up the hill, finding your parents already set up.

You drop your belongings on the blanket and walk up to hug them, saying, "Hey guys." As they begin to chat with you, they embrace you in a friendly hug.

“So we set up all of the essential elements, such as lighting, a seating area, and refreshments in the cooler and basket.” As she began to indicate the various components, your mother explained. As she brought you around the hill to the tree, she took your hand in hers.

“You remember when you and Lucas did this?” You laugh as you remember that day as you place your palm on the antique carving.

-- “Noo I'd like to go first; you always go first.” You sighed as Lucas took up the knife and began carving his name into the tree.

“You better not cry and tell mom,” he remarked, turning to face you and seeing your glum demeanor. As you passed past him, you stood up straighter, rolling your eyes at him and snatching the knife from his grip.

“I'm not a baby like you,” you say. As he huffed and hurried toward mom, you heard him scoff.

“Mommmm y/n referring to me as a baby. And I'm not one of them. You stood there watching as he stomped his foot and landed on Mom's lap. Your father chuckles, rubbing his back and shaking his head at his wife.

As you return to the blanket, you cross your arms and say, "Well, then, quit acting like one."

That erupted in an outburst as he started to whine on mommy lap.

He did, in fact, act like a baby. Wiping a tear from your eyes as you chuckle, you hold your mother closer as you kiss her on the forehead.

“Hey we have an hour left before wonwoo get here, I'm going to head to the house to clean up. If he arrives early, keep him entertained.” As she watches you descend the hill, your mother shakes her head.

As you pull out of the parking lot, you put your foot down on the accelerator and drive over to your parents' house.

(45 minutes later)

Wonwoo approaches the destination, looking out the windshield as he spots some lights on the hill. As he steps out of the automobile, he notices two people moving around. He smiles as he collects his guitar from the rear and walks up the hill, noting the serene atmosphere.

“Those should go over by the tree and make sure they don't fall.” Wonwoo enters the place, his eyes widening. Fluorescent bulbs fanned out along the tops of the trees, each with a different picture on it, surrounding him.

As he looks down, he notices a blanket with a speaker playing music and the champagne.

Your parents finally turn around, gasping, when your mother rushes over to welcome him, saying, "Forgive us, we didn't hear anything, you must be wonwoo." That's y/n father over there, and I'm y/n mother.” As she introduces you to your father, she smiles and gives you a motherly look.

On this magnificent evening, only a few minutes had passed when you approached the hill once more. You take a brief glance in the mirror before applying some Chapstick. Rubbing it in you open the door as you look up on the hill, you hear conversations as you panic up the hill.

“So this is y/n, she was quite the messy twin when she was a baby-”

“What are you doing, Mom?” You walk over to her, ashamed, and place yourself between you and wonwoo, speaking quietly to her.

“I said to entertain him not embarrass me.”

“Oh, you're overthinking things; did you know he's friends with Lucas?” You chuckle as you grab your father and mother and begin bickering as you force them out of the location. As they descend the slope, they wave goodbye to you and wonwoo.

Taking one look at him, you notice his amusing state; he was cheesing so hard that his rosy cheeks were visible.

“Sorry about them.”

“It's fine; all parents do it.” They simply adore you.” You cross your legs and shake your head as you sit on the blanket, passing him a wine cup.

“To another wonderful day and a wonderful friendship.” Wonwoo takes out the champagne from the cooler as he opens it and sprays the excess in front of you.

“Ahh, you're spilling it” As you giggle at his action, the extra juice pours on your face. You reach for a napkin to wipe the wetness off your face as he takes one in front of you.

“Here, let me take care of it.” He leans in closer as he wipes the liquid from your face before resuming his seat. As your stomach begins to become a #1 gymnast, that simple action sends you spiraling.

“Th-thanks”

He smiles as he pours you a drink for both of you, and as he does so, you grab his guitar box and pry it open, admiring the golden beauty inside. Picking it up, you begin strumming a few chords of the nameless song while moving your head to the beat.

“Wow, you're actually pretty good.”

“I did have a good teacher, Lucas taught me a few things, but I only recall a few chords, so it may become irritating after a while.”

Wonwoo hands you the glass as you take it in your hand, and as you take a sip of the bubbly drink, you hand him the guitar.

As you take another sip, your spirits lift as you stare out at the scenery in front of you. You hear wonwoo begin to play the tune while you stare off towards the colorless world.

“Ruinous imagination consumes me. Makes me dream sweeter dreams, I close my eyes but thoughts of you. Bring noisy night, to you & me, real and dreamy.” 

You sway back and forth as his voice soothes your body, his palm brushing over the guitar while his eyelids close, taking in the lyrics.

As you look up at him, you say, "Thank you." It's unavoidable, but tears stream down your face with no attempt to wipe them away.

“Th-thank you foreverythingyouhave-“ you say quickly and brokenly.

“Hey hey, calm down, I can't understand what you're saying,” he says as he scoots over to you and pats your shoulder. You both laugh as you start over, this time with more poise.

“I wanted to express my gratitude to you for genuinely improving my life. You probably don't know, but my relationship with Lucas was incredible; we were never apart, and when he passed, I couldn't live without him. I've struck rock bottom a few times and done some unfathomable things that I'm ashamed of, and I'm sincerely grateful that I've survived another day.”

Wonwoo drew you into a hug and caressed your back as he ceased patting your shoulder. As you sob into his shoulder, the tears begin to flow again.

“Sorry for interrupting, but it seemed like you needed one,” he says as you continue, releasing leave of you.

“To put it simply, you have brought me so much joy and optimism that I am overwhelmed. It's not the same without Lucas, but I'm grateful you entered my life at this point. So thank you; I don't know how to express my gratitude.”

You come to a halt as he looks at you through his round spectacles, and as you become concerned, you begin to look down.

“Sorry if I just spewed all that out.”

“No, it's fine.” I truly appreciate it, and I'm glad I was able to restore a sense of hope in your life. I may not be Lucas, but I will do my best to pay tribute to his memory.

You smile as you feel a wave of self-assurance and an overpowering sensation of bravery wash over you.

When you bring wonwoo closer to you and kiss him on the lips, everything inside of you turns on, and your body begins to feel alive again, exactly like it did before.

“I'm sorry I should have asked you first-“ You release him and lean back as you watch him.

He silenced your words with his lips as his hands wrapped around your neck.

Everything comes rushing back to you in an instant, like a blanket being pulled off of you. As you open your eyes again, you let go of each other. The difference this time is that you can see him.

As he smiled at you, you could see his cheeks flush with scarlet. You can see his silver rings around his slender fingers as his hands slip away from your neck.

You slowly turn around to face the sinking light on the horizon. As if a million scarlet petals have ignited, the sunset blooms on the horizon.

You expected the tears to flow this time as you stood up and walked closer to the cliff's edge. As you stared at the gorgeous view in front of you, you undoubtedly looked a mess.

You collapse to your knees and exclaim, "I can see it!"

Wonwoo approaches you slowly, bending down with you and holding you in his arms.

“See what?”

As you held him again, your snot-filled tear-streaked face turned to his.

“The color has returned, and I can see it now.” As he gasps, he pulls you back.

“Wait, are you serious, what color shirt am I wearing?” 

“IT'S GREEN, YOUR SHIRT IS GREEN!!” Wonwoo scoops you up and spins you again in an instant. You lay another kiss on his lips as you chuckle into his lips, unsure of what to do.

The clouds floated into my life, not to bring rain or storms, but to add color to the sunset sky.

He picks up the polaroid camera off the ground and takes a candid shot of you. After he pecked your cheek once more, he smiled as he wanted to remember this special day.

You send wonwoo off to find a knife from the basket as the photo develops. You observe him as he runs around the area like a child, and you smile as the photo develops.

You've probably seen images where the background is blurred and the only thing in focus is the subject of the photograph. That was us. Every other detail became hazy as I concentrated on every facet of him.

You didn't realize how fortunate you were until now; he was the special someone you had wished for eons ago.

Everything felt even better when your color returned, and you knew deep down that everything was going to be well.

It was all because of wonwoo.

Your brother left you a gift, the lovely gift of music, which was seen via wonwoo.

Yes, your brother had been your best friend, and yes, he had left you. But, as you found a great friend, the life he presumably wanted for you had only just begun.

You hoped that with him, you would be able to treasure the love you had just as much as you did while you were together.

“Hey, wonwoo, I have a song title, also follow me.”

As he began heading toward you, he turned around and looked at you. You've both arrived at the same tree that was planted many years ago.

He gives you the knife as you start placing your name under your past self. As he watches you cry, Wonwoo does the same.

*Forever, Y/n, Wonwoo, and Lucas*

As he finishes up, you grab his hand and stroll back to the blanket setup. He takes a seat beside you and wraps his arm over your body.

“So, what are your thoughts?” 

“Bittersweet, that's the title,” you said as you turned to face him.

“I love it,” he says as he pulls you closer to him with a nod of his head.

And with that, your brother's memory was carefully preserved, shared, and intended for all to hear.

“Lucas, I'll never forget you.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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