#i was supposed to post this like an hour and half ago lmao

[bubbarnes]

“... alright”.

[cxtori]

Satoru Gojo ✭ Kiss Me Back

wc: basically 5k… it wasn’t meant to be lmao

summary: based off of this thought i posted a while ago

genre: angst, fluff, drunk “confession�� but it gets misunderstood, friends to lovers, silly drunk Gojo

warnings: n/a

tori’s note: I finished this fic after having it in my drafts for almost a year. I kinda strayed from how my original prompt went lol. Idk how I feel about the second half of this, I’m not a huge fan of it but y’know, it be what it be. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Gojo doesn’t drink often. In fact, it’s more accurate to say he never drinks. He hates alcohol. The way it tastes, the way it burns, and especially how quickly it affects his system.

He’s always been a lightweight, it only taking a few shots before he was intoxicated. But for some reason, Shoko’s teasing pressure to get him to drink got to him a lot more tonight than usual. 

It was supposed to be only one shot, then just one more. But now, here he is, a couple hours later and 6 shots down, drunk and stumbling, leaning against you for support.

You grunt as you struggle to keep the tall man vertical and walk him down the street to your car. 

“You are amazing, Y/n,” Gojo slurs, wrapping his arm tighter around your neck. You huff and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that 3 times already,” you laugh lightly. Gojo trips over his own foot, causing you to stumble and almost fall. Thankfully, you catch yourself and keep the two of you from crashing into the concrete. 

“Jeez, Toru! Are you serious?” You ask, unbelieving that he was so intoxicated that he really couldn’t walk straight. Gojo only moans miserably in response. “We’re almost there,” you sigh.

You knew how much he hated the repercussions of drinking and tried to stop him before it was too late. But he seemed to be feeling a little self-destructive tonight, so your warnings fell on deaf ears, much to your annoyance. Even so, you still felt empathetic enough to take him home yourself, turning down Nanami’s kind offer to do so.

After another block of walking and stumbling, you finally make it to your car, opening the passenger side and awkwardly shuffling around as you try to help Gojo into the seat. It felt like he was purposefully doing everything he could to make this simple task as complicated as possible. Which, honestly, you wouldn’t put past him. 

You eventually get him and his lanky limbs into the vehicle and hold back a laugh when he groans and dramatically drapes himself over your center console, arms spilling into the driver’s seat. You walk around to the other side of the car, moving his arms carefully before sitting down and pushing him to lean against the window. 

“Okay, tough guy. You still have the water Nanami gave you?” You ask. Gojo clumsily reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the water bottle he somehow managed to fit in there. Damn men’s pocket sizes.

“Good, I want it empty by the time I make it to your place,” you state, turning on the car and pulling into the street.

“The whole thing?” Gojo whines. You laugh breathily, finding amusement in his drunk demeanor.

“Yes, the whole thing. Gotta stay hydrated so drink up!” You encourage. 

The white-haired man mutters a complaint as he cracks open the bottle, and you watch dumbfounded as he drains it in seconds. 

“I didn’t mean drink it all at once…” you say. Gojo shrugs and sinks further into his seat. 

You drive in silence for a few minutes, the pale, orange street lights whizzing by and the soft, white noise of the tires rolling on the pavement making the ride a peaceful, comforting experience. At least it would be if Gojo wasn’t staring holes into the side of your face. 

In his drunkenness, he’d somehow managed to misplace his glasses and blindfold, much to your dismay. You adore those brilliant blue eyes, but damn, if they weren’t intimidating as hell when they were staring you down. You do your best to ignore it, keeping your eyes focused on the road ahead of you. 

You feel your heart skip a beat when a cold, calloused finger presses gently against your temple before tracing your hairline, sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty,” Gojo whispers, his words barely audible. Your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. 

“O-oh, umm… I- th-thank you,” you stutter horribly. Gojo hums softly as though he’s satisfied with your reaction before laughing lightly. His hand leaves your quickly heating face as he turns back to the window, slumping against the cool glass. 

After what couldn’t have possibly even been a minute, you hear the faintest snore come from the man. You poke his arm, expecting some kind of reaction. But nope, he’s out.

You take a deep breath and start blasting the AC. It suddenly feels really stuffy in here.

You soon reach his house and pull into the driveway before parking the car and climbing out. You open the passenger door, being careful to not let Gojo dump out onto the ground. You shake his shoulders, whispering to him that he was home and needed to wake up. After some gentle-turned-vigorous shaking, the man wakes up bleary eyed and a bit confused. 

“Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?” You tease, taking his arm and attempting to pull him to his feet. He grunts, reluctantly swinging his feet out of the car and onto the ground. The moment he stands, he leans back against the car, his eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. 

“Shhhhit, why did I do that?” He slurs, the alcohol still screwing with his brain. At least he’s more coherent than 30 minutes ago. 

“Not to be like that, but I did try to stop you,” you joke.

“Shut up,” he groans. His eyes open and meet with yours, but instead of holding the annoyed glare you were expecting, they were soft, appreciative. His typically pale complexion was still dusted pink, though not nearly as flushed as earlier, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile to accompany it. 

He leans against you, his arms snaking around your waist in a loose hug, and his head resting heavily on your shoulder as he sighs. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Why don’t you thank me when I’ve gotten you inside!” You laugh awkwardly, pushing the large man off of you. 

Gojo pouts, his soft, pink lips protruding in a way that could only be described as borderline sensual. You tear your eyes away from him and link your arm in his to walk him into the house with much less stumbling this time.

You make it inside, Gojo dragging down the hall to his room while you dig in his kitchen cabinets in search of ibuprofen. Once you’ve found what you’re looking for, you grab a glass and fill it with water before making your way to Gojo’s room.

You knock on the door, the sound echoing through the cold, empty hallway. A muffled “come in” reaches your ears and you open the door. 

You step in and your eyes land on a half-naked Gojo sitting on his bed, stopping you in your tracks. He did say to come in, didn’t he?

He looks at you, a questioning expression written on his face. With everything he’s done this evening, it’s beginning to be hard to believe he’s not purposefully trying to fluster you.

You draw in a breath and walk over to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you nervous.

“Here, for the potential hangover,” you say, handing him the pills and water. He takes it gratefully, downing the meds and water quickly. He sets the glass on the nightstand with a soft thunk, and an odd silence follows after. 

“Well, I’m gonna head home now. G’night, Toru,” you say, turning on your heels and heading to the door. Your hand barely touches the doorknob when Gojo says your name.

“Y/n,” he calls quietly. You stop and turn to him with a questioning hum, but he doesn’t give any response back other than a waving hand, signaling for you to come back to him. You shuffle awkwardly to stand in front of him, confused about what he wants. 

He stands up, his chest almost bumping against yours as he does so. You begin to take a step back, but before you can, his hands are on your waist, holding you in place. You look up at him to ask what he’s doing, but the words get stuck in your throat the moment your eyes meet his.

Those bright, cerulean eyes that were so often hidden from the world, were looking at you with such care and fondness that it made your chest tighten. 

Before you’re even aware of what’s happening, his warm, soft lips are pressing tenderly against yours. 

Your tense muscles relax and eyes flutter shut as your lips push back against his. His hands grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him before one lifts the back of your shirt, fingers dragging slowly over your skin. 

You sigh into him, your own hands traveling up his arms, to his neck, eventually finding home in his silky hair. His other hand moves from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek as he deepens the kiss. 

His tongue darts out and sweeps across your lips and the faintest lingering taste of bitter alcohol bites your tastebuds, snapping you back to reality. It’s only then that you remember who you’re kissing, where you are, and how you got there. 

Your eyes fly open and hands move to his chest, pushing him away from you harshly. Gojo loses his balance, landing back into a sitting position on his bed, his once peaceful expression now shocked and confused. 

Your hand covers your mouth, surprised by your own actions. It’s only a second or two that you stay there, staring at each other before you decide that you should definitely leave.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” you say, wasting no time in leaving his room and ignoring his calls for you. You jump into your car and start the engine before your door is even closed.

What were you thinking? He’s the drunkest he’s been in ages, how could you let that happen? You curse yourself as you drive home, frustrated that you allowed such a thing when your friend was in such a vulnerable state.

 You make it home and park in the driveway, but you don’t leave. You sit in your car and stare blankly at the steering wheel as the full weight of regret begins to sink in. 

You’ve desperately wanted that man to kiss you for years now. But not like this! Not when he was intoxicated and most likely not thinking straight. You wanted a genuine kiss; one he gave you because he truly wanted to. Not because his drunk-self just wanted attention.

How are you supposed to keep your feelings for him under wraps after this?

You’ll just have to lie. You’ll tell him that it was just a slip up, that you were caught off guard. That he kissed you and- dammit, you kissed him back! And not only that, you were wrapping your arms around him. You can’t play off your feelings for him when you kissed him like that!

You groan painfully as you open your door and force yourself into your house, trudging your way to your room. You change your clothes and crawl into bed before plugging your phone in. The screen lights up with the red battery, which disappears quickly, revealing a missed call and several texts from Gojo.

I’m sorry Y/n. Can we please talk?

It wasn’t what you think

Y/n?

Hello?

He almost never texts you, let alone several times in a row. But you can’t find it in you to respond. You turn off your phone and stare at your ceiling for what feels like an eternity, the moment replaying in your mind on repeat. 

It wasn’t what you think? What is he assuming you think?

You raise a finger to your mouth, remembering how it felt to have his lips on yours as you trace over them. 

It was so warm, so sweet. The way he held you close to him, so strong yet gentle. The way his thumb stroked over your face so tenderly. Maybe… it was real.

No. You can’t allow yourself to believe it was genuine and get your hopes up, you can’t.

You roll over onto your side just as your screen lights up once more. You take a glance at it and find another text from Gojo. 

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please let me explain.

A new wave of anxiety washes over you when you realize you’ll have to see him tomorrow. You do work at the same school after all. You don’t have a few days to process this or even find a way to respond. 

You wrap tighter into yourself and painful tears fill your eyes, not taking long before they’re streaming down your face and soaking into your pillow. You just want the earth to open and swallow you. 

Your only comfort is in the slim possibility that he was still drunk enough to have a chance of not having clear memories the next day. Maybe he’d wake up, see the messages he’d sent you and not even remember what it was about. 

You know it’s a foolish hope. He wasn’t drunk enough during that kiss to have no recollection of it. Even so, it’s the only thought that calms you down enough to fall asleep. 

Okay, all you have to do is file a couple reports, meet with Ijichi and Nitta, and check in with Shoko on a new corpse. You don’t even have to be on campus the whole day, just do your few tasks and leave. 

You were not going to talk to Gojo today. You’re not sure your heart can handle it right now. You’ve barely even processed what happened last night. It’s like your mind is trying to convince you it was a dream. But the unanswered texts still sitting in your inbox say otherwise. 

You decided you would do your best to avoid the inevitable conversation. You’re sure that when he sees you, he’ll likely confront you about it. But, if you were with others, you knew he’d keep his mouth shut. You can’t hide from him, but you make damn sure he can’t catch you alone.

You know you’ll have to talk about it eventually, just not today. And maybe not tomorrow. Or the day after that.

You take a deep breath as you walk into the school and head for Yaga’s office. You’re not too worried about bumping into Gojo here as he usually avoids this part of the school simply because he’s afraid of running into Yaga and being asked to do something he doesn’t want to. 

You make it there without incident and knock on Yaga’s door before entering. Thankfully, your meeting doesn’t last long as you just have to turn in your reports and give him a quick rundown of your past week’s assignments.

Next was finding Ijichi and Nitta. Which meant going to the more common areas of the school. Which meant risking running into Gojo.

At this point, you were just hoping he decided to go MIA today as he typically did. Or maybe he’d be too hung over to even bother getting out of bed. Whatever the case may be, you just hoped he wouldn’t be behind the door to which you are about to enter.

You turn the doorknob quietly and poke your head in, finding no one but Ijichi sitting at a desk looking over a stack of papers, and you feel relieved. You step inside and Ijichi looks up, a small smile appearing once he sees it’s you.

“Ahh, Y/n. You’re a bit early,” he greets kindly. 

“Haha, yeah. My meeting with Yaga didn’t take as long as expected,” you laugh softly as you walk over to the desk and take a seat across from the man. “Where’s Nitta?”

“She’s currently out with the first years. They were sent to investigate the disturbance you reported a few days ago. Turns out it was just a few Grade 3 curses roaming around.” Ijichi replies.

He shuffles the papers spread out on the desk into a few separate piles before picking up each one, shaking them into neat stacks and paper clipping them together.

“Oh, that’s good to know,” you say with a smile. “So, you said you and Nitta needed something?”

“Oh, yes. We wanted your opinion on-”

“Gooood morning!” A familiar voice calls happily as the door swings open. You hunch over in your chair and glue your eyes to the papers in front of you, not daring to look at the man. You didn’t think you would run into him this soon.

“Oh, goodmorning, Gojo,” Ijichi says.

“Ijichi,” Gojo greets and nods to his co-worker.

He turns to you, your eyes still studying the reports laying in front of you. It was obvious you weren’t reading them though, considering they were upside down to you. “Y/n,” he says quietly.

You still refuse to look at him, mumbling a barely audible “good morning” in return.

Ijichi, sensing some tension, clears his throat and returns to the matter that brought you here in the first place. He only had a few questions, wanting your opinion on which recent cases should be assigned to which students. It wasn’t long before you had fulfilled your need and could leave.

You say your goodbyes, stand from the desk and make your way to the door, still having not spared Gojo, who was leaning against one of the couches, even a glance.

Despite hiding his eyes behind that dark blindfold of his, you could tell he’d been staring at you the whole time. You could practically feel his gaze burning holes into your skin. But, just as you expected, he didn’t dare bring up anything about the previous night with Ijichi in the room.

You walk out the door, thankfully leaving Gojo behind it. But you weren’t sure how long he’d stay there. You make your way quickly through the halls as you head towards the morgue. You open the door and step inside, the cold air making your body shake with a chill. 

You walk through, but find no sign of Shoko. Deciding that she must be in the office, you turn and start making your way over, it being just a couple doors down the hall. 

You step outside of the morgue and about jump out of your skin when you’re met with blinding white hair. Gojo. Of course. You should’ve known he would catch up to you. 

You stand there for a moment, him standing in the doorway and therefore blocking your exit. You still can’t bring yourself to look at him, not really, only giving him quick glances. It must be so easy for him to make “eye contact” when he doesn’t really have to.

“Can we talk?” He says, his voice taking on an unusually shaky and serious tone, and you suppress a sigh. Any hope you had of him not remembering last night shattered with those three words.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quietly, desperately wanting to avoid the impending conversation. 

“Y/n,” he says, his large hand reaching carefully for your arm. You move quickly, avoiding his grasp.

“I don’t want to talk,” you say and push past him, making it through the doorway. You speed walk down the hallway to the morgue office, thankful that it’s just a few doors down. Gojo begins to say something but before he can, you’re knocking on the door, shutting him up quickly.

Shoko opens the door only a moment after you’ve knocked, silently stepping aside to let you in once she sees it’s you. Her neutral expression breaks a bit when she sees who’s behind you.

“Gojo, wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she says, referring to the rough condition he was in last night.

“I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?” He chuckles. He looks at you as he says this and you feel your face grow warm. Shoko walks over to her desk and shuffles through the various items in search of something.

“How are you feeling? You haven’t had that many drinks in a long time,” She asks curiously.

“I feel great actually. Y/n is a pretty good caretaker,” he says, once again looking over at you. “She’s the reason I’m not hungover.”

Yep, you certainly were. Maybe you should’ve skipped the water and ibuprofen. But that was before what happened. Past you had no idea that future you would be cursing that decision.

“He wasn’t too much trouble was he? Gojo’s always annoying when he’s drunk.” Like he’s not annoying when he isn’t drunk.

“He was fine,” you say plainly, wanting to move on from the topic.

“Fine is one way to put it,” Gojo says, an obnoxiously flirty smirk on his face. What happened to the serious and borderline nervous Gojo you had just a moment ago? Bring him back please.

“Maybe I should’ve let Nanami take you when he’d offered,” you mutter. Shoko turns back around to you, confused by the comments being made.

“Is that really what you would’ve wanted?” Gojo asks. 

“If it means we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, then yes.”

Shoko looks between the two of you, reading the looks on your faces and expertly deciphering that this was not a conversation she needed (or wanted) to be a part of.

“I’m not getting involved in this,” Shoko mutters as she collects her things and quickly leaves the room, abandoning you in this anxiety-inducing situation. “We can meet later, Y/n.”

“Ah! Wait, Shoko!” You call, but she ignores you and walks out the door. Well, this certainly isn’t what you wanted to happen. Now you had no excuse to leave and apparently didn’t have anyone to have your back. You knew Shoko saw your plea for help in your eyes and she actively ignored it. But, it is Shoko. She always avoids getting involved in things that don’t concern her.

The silence that follows Shoko’s leaving is so incredibly deafening and you hope the ground will open up beneath you. You debate leaving, but you know that Gojo will just follow you. There was no escaping it now. Dammit, and you were so close to getting out without speaking to him.

You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the desk, your eyes glued to the floor.

“Y/n,” Gojo speaks softly. You refuse to look at him. You can’t. You don’t know what will happen if you do. “Y/n.” He steps closer to you and you sink further into yourself, feeling your throat tighten. “Let me explai-”

“What did you mean?” You close your eyes, finding yourself talking before you can even comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“What?” Gojo says, confused. You sigh, annoyed with yourself now for having said anything.

“Your text. You said it wasn’t what I thought it was. What did you mean?” Gojo looks at you. Well, you assume he’s looking at you. He could be looking at the wall behind you for all you knew.

“I…” Gojo starts but doesn’t finish. He sighs quietly and leans against the chair in front of you. He doesn’t attempt to speak again for a long moment and you begin to wonder if he even plans to. And you’re right, he doesn’t speak. But instead, his hand reaches for the dark blindfold hiding his eyes, and he pulls it down around his neck, his snow white hair falling into his face.

You tear your eyes away as soon as he does, not able to bear even the thought of looking at him directly in those blue irises. Luckily, you’re not tempted to as he keeps his head down, his hair shielding his eyes from your view.

“I remember everything from last night,” the man says finally. You feel your heart sink. You knew he remembered, but for some reason, hearing him say so only made your anxiety worsen. “You didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye last night,” he says with a mild, teasing tone, though it was made with minimal effort, the tension in the room making it hard to joke playfully.

Your arms tighten around you and your throat burns, your eyes remaining focused on everything but him. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be leaving in such a hurry either,” you say, risking your voice breaking into tears. Gojo chuckles.

“I thought you’d stay for a bit longer after the way you were kissing me,” He jokes, and this time it has his usual lightheartedness to it. Despite that, you feel your blood run hot through your body and for a moment you forget that you’re avoiding looking at him. Your eyes whip over to see him already looking at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Wha- you kissed me!” You whisper yell, afraid that someone outside may hear you. You can’t believe him. HE made a move on YOU, and yet he wants to talk about the way you were kissing HIM?

“Buuut, you kissed me back!” He says accusingly but airily. You close your mouth at this. He’s right, you did. And this is just what you were afraid of, him realizing that you kissing him back meant you actually enjoyed it if only a little. You couldn’t hide it.

“And I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You turn your gaze away just in time to miss the way Gojo’s face twitches and his smile drops. Before you can’t stop yourself, you continue to speak, the coil in your throat snapping and the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me to begin with. But please, I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it. I know you were drunk and it was a mistake just… Please, don’t tell me that.” 

The silence that follows your statement is so quiet that you can hear Gojo’s uneven breaths alongside your own. You feel the urge to run, to walk out the doors and never turn back. To find a hole somewhere to bury yourself in, never to resurface.

“You think I made a mistake?” Gojo’s words barely reach your ears, his voice so soft you almost have to strain to hear it. He looks at you, completely dejected. “Even if I did feel that way, do you think I’d come here to mock you for it? Do you think I’d be that cruel?” The hurt in his voice is so obvious that you can feel it yourself.

“I… I don’t know.” Truthfully, you did know. You knew he wouldn’t do something like that. He may be annoying, but he’s not cruel. It was out of your own fear of the outcome that you were avoiding this conversation. But then, two words in his statement stand out to you. 

Even if. 

Meaning even if it was a mistake. Meaning he didn’t think it was?

The tears welling in your eyes begin to fall when you dare to look up at him, his own already on you. But you don’t look away this time.

“Would you have kissed me if you were sober?” You ask quietly. Gojo’s shoulders slump and his face grows longer at your words. He takes a cautious step towards you, testing to see if you’ll back away. And you don’t.

“Y/n, I didn’t kiss you because I was drunk,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. He takes another step forward, this time reaching out a hand to place on your arm, and you don’t pull away.

“That’s what I meant when I said it wasn’t what you thought. I knew you figured it was an alcohol-influenced choice. And while the alcohol admittedly may have had something to do with it, that wasn’t why I did it.” Your vision blurs as you begin to cry, your tears feeling like rivers of fire as they flow down your cheeks.

“I did it because I wanted to, Y/n,” he admits. He lifts a hand to your face, wiping your tears as he strokes your cheek with his knuckles.  “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. And one I don’t regret.”

You close your eyes, not being able to see with them open anyway. His other hand moves from your arm to swipe at your tears, both hands now cupping your face tenderly.

“I don’t know what to say,” you mumble. You raise your hands to wrap your fingers around his wrists, your thumbs stroking over the back of his hands. You open your eyes, your vision clear enough to see him looking at you fondly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His soft lips that, in the back of your mind, you’ve been thinking about all morning.

Your gaze must have lingered on his mouth for a moment too long as his smile widens. He comes closer to you, his head towering over yours and his hands guide your face to continue looking at him.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. But.” He leans his face to yours, his warm breath against your lips. “I would like to kiss you again. And I hope you won’t run away this time.” His voice lilts in that familiar, teasing tone and your heart twists.

“I won’t,” you say with a breathless laugh. 

His large hands continue to hold your head as he moves forward, wasting no time in putting his lips against yours in a passionate but tender kiss.

And this time, you let yourself kiss him back.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs appreciated

[ironladders]

"I circled half the globe searching for him, but he was gone."

Starscream ;_;

RIGHT?? IT'S SO SAD .

and i have sooo many thoughts about this whole situation with skyfire/starscream that's been presented to me, if you dont mind anon im gonna use your ask to ramble a little

(disclaimer im sure nothing i have to say here is particularly new & has been said by those who've been deep into TF longer than myself but i need to get this out my system anyways. and also im still watching through g1 so if im horribly mistaken about anything #oops)

unless i missed something, i don't think it's specified in "fire in the sky" how long starscream looked for skyfire?? but just thinking about that line.... he obviously didn't immediately go back to cybertron, he didn't just give up on skyfire. starscream cared about skyfire enough to look for him, only leaving after (i assume) he realized he didn't have the resources to conduct a proper search for his companion. and i mean can you imagine being starscream in that situation???? your partner just disappears into a storm, and no matter how far and long you look you're unable to find them????????

i get starscream, man. i'd also become awful if that happened to me.

and here's the thing: i stumbled upon this post which posits that the decepticons happening to stumble across skyfire in the ice was no incident, but starscream's own doing, and i LOVE this theory/headcanon so much. when i first watched the episode yesterday i was thinking that it was funny they just happen to be mining right where skyfire was frozen so it's nice to see my suspicions affirmed LMAO

i honestly love that episode so much because as i learn more about starscream and transformers as a whole i think little tidbits like that offer a deeper look into who he is (or was, idk) beyond just megatron's second-in-command. he was a scientist, an explorer, a friend. "was" isn't even the proper word here, because he still is all of those things, he just...... applies them differently, i suppose. which is the real tragedy in who he is as a character.

beyond starscream and his search for skyfire, you wanna know what i've REALLY been thinking about a lot with these two? when skyfire becomes a decepticon (for like a day lol but still), starscream immediately declares that when he overthrows megatron, skyfire will become his second-in-command. not any of the other seekers, not either of the waves, not literally anyone else who's been a decepticon for more than an hour, but skyfire. his long-lost science partner. on starscream's end, virtually nothing about his relationship with skyfire has changed. he still trusts him as much as he did millions of years ago, to the point he'd be willing to have him at his side as leader of the decepticons.

but on skyfire's end... the starscream in front of him is different from the one he knew. war and being a decepticon changed starscream for the worst, something that unveils itself very quickly to skyfire. one of the first things he asks starscream after becoming a decepticon is if starscream is genuinely happy about being a decepticon warrior over the scientist he used to be. skyfire can't believe that the person standing in front of him could be the starscream he once knew before being frozen. still, it's starscream, so skyfire ends up going along with things up until he can't ignore his morals and deny that he's on the wrong side anymore.

that is where the second tragedy happens for starscream: betrayl, by the man he'd waited to get back for so long. he finally got skyfire back, only to lose him all over again.

if skyfire had never crashed that day -- if they'd never gone closer to explore the earth in the first place -- would starscream had gone down such a dark path? would he have taken countless lives, and become the ruthless decepticon he is now? does it eat at skyfire, knowing that in his absence starscream lost who he once was? or perhaps he'd still be the same starscream, but skyfire would be at his side serving the decepticon cause. maybe they both would've been so drastically changed by the years of cybertron's war together.

skyfire is a living, formerly frozen relic of the past before everything went wrong. starscream has aged far beyond that, to the point of no return. as much as they surely both want it, and regardless of what happens to them, their bond can never go back to what it once was.

god i just. i need more!!! i need to watch more transformers and read more of the comics and see more of these two!! i watched tfp + some of the live action movies as a kid but this is my first time learning about skyfire and this thing he's got going on with starscream and it's fascinating to me i can't believe i didn't know about this before!!!!! but it's also so fucked up oh my god!!!!!

ok yeah ive gotten the brainworms out my system. idk how to end this here's screenshots i took that i found funny

[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 ♡♡.

[wordsarelife]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐢'𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: theo tries to make everything right, but it might seem to be too late. all while your brother makes an unexpected appearance and interfers with your love life

warnings: mentions of a loved one dying, car accident, trauma, underage drinking, angst

notes: feels like an eternity since i posted the last chapter lmao

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

one year ago

cormac had left the party an hour ago. he had just left you there, standing in the middle of the dance floor, as he bid off the passenger seat of his cabrio to a girl whose name you couldn't even remember now. all you knew was that she was sitting on the passenger seat that had been supposed to be yours.

you were drunk out of your mind and had zero idea in which direction your house was. you took a look out of the window. it was raining and it would be a stupid idea to just blindly walk in one direction in the dark.

you thought about a way to get home, when a voice behind you made you perk up.

it was theo. he was taking to two guys you had never seen before. you smiled as your heart beat calmed down.

you knew theo, theo would help you.

"theo" you slurred and hiccuped.

theo did not look as happy to see you, as you were to see him.

"cormac" you hiccuped again "left me and i wanted to ask if you could drive me home?"

"i told you, he was bad news" theo rolled his eyes as the two other guys walked away.

"i know" you hiccuped "and you were right"

he nodded. his eyes already fixated on something or someone behind you.

"could you please drive me?" you asked "it won't take long, i promise"

"it would take half an hour" theo argued "we're not in town anymore. do you even know where you are?"

you shook your head and he sighed. you thought he would maybe say yes and rip you a new one on the drive home, but theo shook his head and your heart sank.

"call a taxi or something"

"please, theo" you pleaded "please, help me"

theo laughed sarcastically. "just yesterday you told me we couldn't be friends anymore, because i don't approve of your asshole of a boyfriend. so tell me, why should i do anything to help you?"

tears were running over your cheeks at this point and you could only watch as theo threw off your grip on his arm and walked away from you.

you got your jacket from the hanger at the door, before you walked out into the cold. the rain was dripping into your face, but you didn't mind. you started walking in any direction, as you took out your phone and dialed your older brother.

"leo?" you hiccuped as soon as your call was answered.

"y/n?" leo's voice was hoarse, he had probably been asleep.

"i'm sorry for calling you so late" you cried into the phone.

"is everything alright?" he was sounding a lot more awake now. "what happened?"

"cormac left me at this party and i don't know how to get home"

"i'll come and get you" he was moving around, probably getting dressed "can you find out where you are? can you send me your location?"

"yeah" you said and quickly did as he has asked. "i'll wait on the street"

"okay" he checked the location you had send "that's pretty far from mum's house, but it's not as far to dad's place, i will probably be there in ten minutes"

"okay" you said "thank you, leo"

"of course" he said, before the two of you ended the call.

you waited ten minutes, twenty, thirty, before your drunken mind decided that walk in the direction leo would probably come from. maybe he had gotten lost in the dark.

you weren't sure if it was intentional, but at some point you had just started to follow the sound of sirens that were coming from the street a few hundred meters away. the lights were making it hard to miss.

he was already dead when you arrived. the police was busy pushing back the people, but you had recognized your dad's car. and you could see his hand slipping out from under the black cloth. he was still wearing his bracelet and you were wearing the same.

your tears mixed with the rain that was still dripping from the sky. you screamed and two police officers came to check on you.

"are you alright, miss?" the man couldn't have been older than twenty-six.

"that's my brother" you cried.

he turned around to look in the direction of your eyes.

"that's my brother" you repeated. "please" you begged.

the officer helped you to stand up, before he took you by the arm and brought you into the middle of the street, where an older police officer was waiting. the younger one brought you a blanket when he noticed how much you were shivering.

"what's your name?" the older asked

"y/n" you stuttered, your eyes still fixated on leo.

"she's not older than sixteen" you could hear one of the medical assistants whisper.

"how old was he?" the other asked.

"eighteen? or nineteen?"

no you wanted to scream he's only seventeen

“where do you live?” the police officer asked.

“can’t i see him, please?” you cried. the police officer exchanged a look with one of the medical assistants, before he nodded.

you followed them to your brother, who was still laying on the street unmoving, but they wouldn’t raise the cloth. you just touched his hand and the bracelet on his arm. his hand was cold and your heart shattered even more.

“come on” the police officer said. “i’ll drive you home” you didn’t react when he softly took your arm and walked you to sit in his car. you just told him the address of your dad when he asked and watched the street as it moved past you.

he followed you to the door and you could see the smile on your dads face die down when his eyes fell on you. “where’s leo?”

“i’m sorry, sir-“ the police officer began and you blended him out. your eyes were focused on the jacket in the entryway. did leo leave it? did he drive without a jacket to get you? he must’ve been cold.

your fathers sobbing was what brought back. the police officer excused himself, before he pushed you inside the house.

“he wanted to pick me up” you said as you stared up at your father.

and then the screaming began. it only stopped when it was half past three in the night. your father send you a last look, before he told you to grab your things.

he didn’t want you to stay the night.

he stopped the car in front of your mothers house and told you to get outside.

“dad, please” you had begged, but he hadn’t even looked at you.

“i don’t want to talk to you” he had said before he drove off and left you standing in the middle of the street.

you opened the door with your key and as you walked inside, someone turned on the light.

“y/n!” your mother screamed “where have you been? you’re soaked!”

you had sat on your bed and started at the wall for what felt like days. april came to look after you, but both of you didn’t speak. the boys came, but you told april that you didn’t want to see them, so they left.

the only person you wanted to see was theo, but he didn’t come.

the funeral was beautiful, from what you could notice through tear filled eyes and april stayed close to you the entire time, clutching your hand like her life depended on it. hers didn’t, but yours maybe did.

the boys had come, all but theo and after the funeral you all had went to the lake, because it had been leo’s favorite place in the world. it had been his idea to throw together some money and buy the garage. it had been pretty run down when you found it and all of you spent half a year renovating, but in the end it was worth it.

it was the perfect place for all of you and the perfect place to practice songs for the band theo and leo had started.

before enzo, leo had played the guitar. now the band was missing a member and none of them new if it was even fair to go on.

after a few months, enzo, mattheos little brother started playing for them. they continued rehearsing in the garage, april went from time to time to watch them play, while your visits became less and less.

you didn’t want to see theo and from what you heard he didn’t want to see you either, because he stayed away whenever you were near.

weeks turned into months and what seemed like a separation for now turned into normality.

they seemed to go on with their life. and you didn’t blame them. but yours could never be the same. it felt like an excruciating pain, to wake up every day and remember what had happened to your brother.

but the worst thing was the relentless question traveling through your mind. my brother is dead.. am i even still a sister?

you had almost been glad when theo started talking to you again, even when it was in a malicious way. but that was safe territory, you were having a relationship that allowed both of you to not talk about everything that had happened. you could just ignore it that way.

now

theo spent his days running around his room, thinking about ways to make it up to you, to excuse his actions.

there were lines flowing through his head. a song was forming and he couldn't stop the need to sit down and write everything down, everything that you deserved to hear.

he didn't have the intention of airing out anything. he just wanted to show you what you were worth to him and how sorry he was that he had been the reason you had felt so alone. he had robbed you of your friends, he had robbed you of him, when you had needed him most.

later that day he drove up to the garage to use enzo's guitar. he wanted to feel the words, to make sure they were the right ones.

he played the first few notes, slowly and gently. before he began to sing, crossing words and adding new ones that fitted what he wanted to say better.

when he was finished he called enzo, begging him to send you a message, because you would ignore any message he would send anyway.

can you please come to the garage? please, i really need your help, it's about april

the message enzo had send made you worry. april didn't answer when you tried to call her, so you got the leo's old bike from the shed and rode there as fast as possible.

when you arrived, you walked inside quickly, searching the place with your eyes for kind of sign from enzo or april.

"hey" your eyes fell on the couch where theo was sitting.

you turned around, ready to walk back outside, but he quickly stumbled to his feet, holding your arm before you had the chance to flee.

"did you get enzo to send that message?" you asked "i thought something had happened to him or april. i was worried sick" you slapped a hand against his chest, trying to push him away.

"i know, i'm sorry"

"sorry-"

"doesn't cut it this time, i know" he interrupted "just please, sit down and listen to this"

"another song?" you huffed.

"please, y/n"

you sighed, before you sat down on the couch, you watched him walk around the keyboard, before he took the acoustic guitar and sat down across from you.

"it's called matilda" he muttered "and it's everything i want you to know"

you listened attentively as he played the chords, his voice only a whisper.

you were riding your bike to the sound of "it's no big deal" and you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now so you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal

your heart beat faster when he looked up and found your eyes.

you can let it go you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up, mmh

your eyes filled with tears as the soft shiver in his voice and you realized that he was crying too.

matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright but i know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside you showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days it's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

this song felt realer than any he had written before. it felt like everything theo wanted daddy issues to be, before it had been used in a way to hurt you.

you're just in time, make your tea and your toast you framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh you don't have to go you don't have to go home oh, there's a long way to go

you can let it go you can throw a party full of everyone you know you can start a family who will always show you love you don't have to be sorry, no

you knew he was referring to the boys and april. it had taken you way too long to realize that they had been your family all this time, even during the hardest year or your life, they had tried to be close and show their love, you had just been too stubborn to accept it.

but love wasn't something that could end. not this kind of love. you had always loved them and you had always loved theo, but right now your heart was too heavy to forgive him, even if you so desperately wanted to.

"thank you" you said and theo looked up with hope in his eyes. "but did you think a song would be enough to fix everything that is broken between us?"

his heart sank and he shook his head.

"i tried to ignore it these past weeks, tried to be your friend" you muttered "because it was easy, it was familiar. but it's like everything that you did this past year comes back anytime i look at you and it makes me wonder how you can say you love me when that was the way you acted"

"i hated myself for what i did" theo admitted "it was my fault that leo needed to come and get you in the first place. i could've brought you home, but i didn't want to, because i was so damn jealous and stubborn"

"why didn't you come to the funeral?"

"because i was ashamed of what i had done that night" he looked down and for a moment you were sure he was gonna grab your hand. he didn't. "but i'm gonna make it up to you, if you just let me"

"it's too late" you shook your head "i appreciate your effort, but it's just too late, theo. i'm sorry"

"just give us one more try" he begged "i know that we belong together"

"theo" you said as you softly touched his cheek, he leaned in, capturing as much of your warmth as possible. "it goes great for a while and then we start fighting. that's just our nature. and we're so fucking immature when it comes to the other"  

"we can make it work"

you shook your head "no we can't" you looked to the ground "you were right when you said that we weren't good for each other. it's because we're not good to each other, at least never for long"

you left the garage and took all in you to not turn around when you heard him sob. there was a part of you that so desperately needed to be close to him, but an even bigger part was just hurt at his actions. that part had been in constant pain since leo had died and you truly did not know how to get rid of that pain.

theo tried calling you about a thousand times, you didn't answer and after some time just blocked his number. he stared at your window all day, but you kept the curtains closed.

you didn’t even mind him telling dave that you would be playing pixie dream girl on saturday, it was just that he had lied to you. and on top of everything else that hurt the most.

enzo had called you too, apologizing for the way he had led you on. he also told you that he had been at the doctors and gotten his cast removed. his hand was well enough for him to play saturday, so there was no need for you to show up.

you had been happy to hear that. after all that had happened you weren't sure if you had had the strength to stand on that stage with him.

it was friday, one day before the concert, when you sat down on the floor of your room and your hands went under the bed, pulling out leo’s box. you were looking for one of his photos, your favorite one of him and you, but you couldn’t find it.

“where is it?” you muttered, as you got back on your feet and looked around the room.

maybe it was downstairs. maybe it was in his room. maybe your mother had took it.

you walked down the steps slowly and carefully, as to not wake her.

leo’s room looked like it always did. it was organized, everything was were it was supposed to be. it had looked like that ever since he had moved in with your dad and only spent the weekends in here.

you walked around the bed and to the shelves where a few photos were displayed. you and him, him and the rest of the band. photos from your childhood, from summer at the lake, from band practices and late nights spend renovating the garage.

you opened the drawer that was filled with his clothes. parts of him that were still here, while he was so far gone.

you didn't find it and your eyes just slipped past your mother when you left the room. before you could continue your search in the livingroom, the doorbell rang.

"go away, theo" you said loud enough for him to hear through the door.

"it's me" a voice said "matt"

you opened the door and it was indeed mattheo who was leaning against the wall.

"if theo send you, you can tell him-"

"he didn't" mattheo interrupted, before his hand went to the back pocket of his trousers and he held a small box in your direction.

it had been wrapped and looked like a birthday gift.

"what is that?" you asked suspiciously.

"it's from leo" mattheo explained "he made me keep it, because you always searched his things for presents, remember?"

you did. you had always done that. it had been a way for yourself to try and react the best way to the gifts you were getting.

"it's from a year ago" mattheo continued "he made me keep it from you. i would've given it to you sooner, but i honestly forgot about it. i just found it because i had to clean out my drawer"

"which drawer?"

"i'd rather not say"

you nodded.

your birthday had been just a few days after the accident. april had baked you a cake and you had spent the day with her, laying in your bed, eating cake and watching movies. it was probably the saddest birthday you had ever had, mostly because you felt leo's absence extra hard.

he had loved birthdays. and he had loved giving gifts.

"thank you" you said finally, as you took the box from his hand. "do you know what's inside?"

mattheo nodded. "i don't want to tell you what to do"

"then don't" you smiled, ready to close the door, but mattheo wouldn't let you go so easily.

"yeah, but i will" he grinned "what happened was pretty messed up, okay? everything with your mum and dad.. theo acted like a fucking idiot and i'm not saying you should just forgive him, but just- both of you should stop punishing yourselves for something that wasn't your fault"

"matty-"

"just because leo died doesn't mean you owe him something" he continued "none of you is at fault for that. it was that fucking drunk driver okay? you and theo aren't cursed or anything and leo wouldn't be angry if you just stopped beating yourself up for something you had no control over"

"i appreciate-"

"just watch what's on this" he tapped the box "then we can continue this argument"

you finally nodded and watched as he walked back out to the street, he waved at you before you closed the door.

despite the uneasiness, you slowly opened the box. in there was just a dvd. you raised your eyebrows. leo had been a bit old school with these things.

you walked into the living room, turning on the dvd player and putting the dvd in, before you started the video.

"hey, y/n" leo was sitting right where you were now. "happy birthday! hopefully you like my present, at least you definitely need it. it's fine if you really like cormac, but don't forget us and uh, don't forget theo, hm?"

what followed was a black screen and then laughter, your laughter. a video started playing. your were chasing theo around the lake, while you could hear leo cheer you on behind the camera.

before you could start to wonder, music started playing and not just any music. about you, theo's unreleased song. so leo had known about it, about the song and probably also about the way theo had felt.

you began crying as other videos followed. leo and you trying to hit the last two bowling pins and failing. mattheo, enzo and you as you tried to make a human pyramid. laughter was heard all throughout as draco, blaise, april and you ran a race that you and april lost by far.

there was a video april had taken of you during practice, as you had sat on the ground before the band. your eyes had been fixated on theo the entire time. you didn't even know this video existed.

"who's taller?" theo asked into the camera. "what do you think?" the camera swung to leo, who smirked.

"you or her?" he pointed between you and theo. "is that a serious question?" your brother laughed and the camera swung back to you, making a face and crossing your arms.

"you're just saying that, because you like him more than me" you muttered with fake offense.

"never" leo laughed, before he pressed a kiss to your cheek, which you immediately rubbed off.

the last video was one of you all sitting at the fire. theo was playing the guitar and you were sitting next to him, watching his every move.

leo turned the camera around. "they're in love" her whispered with his mouth close to the lens, before he turned the camera back at theo and you and zoomed in on you, as you sang along to the song theo was playing. "theo doesn't want to admit it to me" leo continued "but she is his pixie dream girl" you could hear him laugh about the joke to himself as the video ended.

that's where theo had gotten the song title from. someone must've showed him the video at the campfire, maybe that was what tempted him to write about you.

"he was happy in his last months, wasn't he?" you almost shrieked as you suddenly heard your mother speak. you turned your head. she was standing behind the couch and she looked unusually awake. her face was as tear stained as your cheeks and you nodded.

"he was" your eyes fell on the on the photo she was holding pressed to her chest. she followed your eyes and sighed.

"i'm sorry" she exclaimed "i found it in your room and took it. it wanted to have my children near me and i always loved this picture of the two of you. i was about to give it back"

"it's alright, mum" she was so clear all of a sudden.

"come here, baby" she sat down beside you and opened her arms, so you could crawl under the blanket next to her. "i missed you"

"you did?" you asked surprised.

"i know it's my own fault" she said "i shut you out. you didn't deserve the way i treated you, i'm so sorry"

"mum" you muttered. "it's alright"

"no it's not" she pressed a kiss to your head "i will get healthy, okay? i promise. i lost my son that night, but my daughter is still here and i have to become a better mother"

"it was my fault" you whispered "that's why you got so sick"

"oh, baby" she shook her head "it was never your fault, i should've gotten help for myself immediately, but i just wanted to be alone. i never wanted you to feel like anything that happened that night was your fault and i was wrong to worry you, to let you feel like you had to get through this alone"

"i wasn't alone" you assured her "i had april"

"and theo right?" your mother pointed to the paused picture of you and theo at the campfire.

"theo and i don't really talk anymore"

"why not?" your mum asked surprised "you were always so close"

"we started falling out before leo's death and after that we didn't really talk to each other anymore" you explained "we became friends again, but he did some pretty hurtful things"

she looked at you expectingly, waiting for you to continue.

"he wrote a few songs about me and he messaged dad"

"oh" your mother breathed, before she cleared her throat "do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?"

"there's nothing to forgive, i was never really angry" you admitted "i just felt so alone"

"i know, sweetheart" she nodded "i promise i will make it up to you" she nudged your arm "but if you're able to forgive me after all the horrible things i did to you these past months, don't you think you will be able to forgive him too?"

your eyes fell on the tv. you thought about the way theo's and your eyes connected and you thought about what leo had said.

they're in love.

"yeah" you nodded "maybe i will"

authors note: what do you guys think? should pixie forgive theo? :)

taglist: @7s3ven @madi-potter @shereadsandcries @getosbeloved @mischieftom @wolfstar-jpg @t00thfairy20 @chcrrysblog @aestramjackson @elina3011 @kr1nqu @hopeless-y @mitskiswift99 @fallingblackveils @ahead-fullofdreams @helendeath @schaebickel @chubbychasermattheotruther @punkprincess03 @subparslytherin @girlbooklover555 @sakanelli-afc @cobrakaisb @ellen3101 @simp-for-fantasy

[fairysluna]

INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 4: you must like me for me.

New Girl!AU — A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

MASTERLISTㅤ | ㅤSERIES MASTERLISTㅤ | ㅤPHOTO CREDIT

PAIRING - Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY - the unexpected presence of Aegon in your room brings the so desired moment of him finally seeing you as a friend. However, you were never good at giving advice and it all ends in a big mess.

TW/TAGS - cursing, body dysmorphia, mentions of blood, insecurities, this might be considered as a slight chubby!aegon, make out session, mentions of nudity, slow burn, friends to lovers, things get heated but nothing happens. If something is missing pls let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE - hi everyone, do you remember this fic? lmao. i know it's been MONTHS since i posted sth for this story, but well, i finally got the inspiration to write this, so this came out. I promise to be fully dedicated to this fic bc it's time i finish this already and bc im excited for it!! now im on vacations so i guess I'll have more time so... thank you if you waited for this fic, and thank you for reading!!🤍

WORD COUNT - 4.6k

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ english is not my first language.

When you finally entered the loft your right hand was holding three files filled with tests for you to grade while the other one was carrying your bag and the keys of your home. You quickly scanned the living room to see if someone was there in order to greet them, but it was empty and messy as usual; leftovers of pizza and a half empty bottle of Coke soda in the center table. “It must've been Aegon”, you thought.

With a sigh you walked towards your room, worrying not to drop anything from your hands and thanking the gods as you saw the door slightly open. You kicked it, accidentally hard enough to make it smack against the wall behind it, and as soon as you looked inside the room, your eyes widened in surprise and all the things that were held by your trembling arms fell around the floor.

Aegon was standing in the middle of your room, shirtless and in the middle of flexing his muscles right in front of your mirror. He noticed your presence immediately, and he ran towards his shirt that was laying on your bed and covered his naked chest with a wild expression remarkably printed on his now red face.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, breathlessly.

"This is my room!" you quickly replied, ignoring the thousands of papers that were now scattered on the floor.

"Weren't you supposed to arrive at six? It's four pm!" Aegon rapidly put his shirt back on.

"We- they let us go home earlier because it's the school's anniversary- what are you doing here?" you spoke, stammering and interrupting yourself. You were still a bit taken aback with this whole situation.

There was a slight moment of doubt in Aegon's mind that was quite evident for your observant eye; he looked away from you as his arms crossed in front of his chest to cover himself even when he was no longer exposing himself. You arched your eyebrow, silently insisting on an answer or some kind of explanation; two days ago you could have sworn he did not like you, but now seeing him standing in your room in such a condition made you overthink everything.

However, before you could think about questioning his lack of words, Aegon sighed loud enough for you to hear the embarrassment and resignation, and soon a mumble followed.

"You have a mirror," he replied.

His response did nothing but confused you even more. A frown appeared on your face, one small gesture that Aegon might have misinterpreted as an angered one if he hadn't known you enough.

"A mirror?" Aegon nodded.

"You're the only one who has one in the bedroom, and-"

"What about the bathroom?" You interrupted out of pure curiosity. "And Aemond has one too."

"Jace has been taking a shit for hours and Aemond forbade me to enter his room since what happened the last time." You were about to open your mouth to ask about it, but he was faster. "Don't ask," he warned you, and you pressed your lips together, remaining silent. "Listen, just forget this. I'm gonna leave right now, and we'll pretend this never happened. Okay?"

He started to walk towards you in order to cross the doorframe behind you. He passed right next to you, and for some unknown reason, your body decided to act before your mind could even process what was going on. Before you even noticed, your hand was wrapped around Aegon's wrist in a grip that was surprisingly strong. Aegon froze right in the spot and the first thing he did was to watch your hand, to then lift his face and lay his deep, lavender eyes on you.

Your jaw clenched, unsure of what to do since everything seemed to be happening strangely fast. The situation was confusing, and it made you act out of instinct leaving you standing there beside him, with just a few seconds left to say something before it turned into something awkward and weird.

Aegon, who would naturally and instinctively reject other people's touch, did not even attempt to push you away from him; he just waited until you removed your hand from his wrist. His reaction was quickly excused by his own mind, thinking that it was only because you took him by surprise.

"Uh…" you muttered, still trying to process what to say, "if- if there's something troubling you, you can tell me, you know? Maybe it's something I can help with."

He just shrugged, trying to make it seem unimportant.

"Not really," he said, leaving the room afterwards without saying another word.

You sighed, resigned to only be seen as his roommate and not as a friend. You tried not to think about it while you kneeled down to pick up the files and papers that fell from your hands when you entered your room, because you did not want it to let it bother you.

But, when you managed to put all your things on your desk, you turned around and saw Aegon standing in the doorway with arms crossed and a defeated look on his face, which had a slight pinkish tone that you would have found adorable in another situation.

"Actually, yes," he started, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, as if he was scared of someone else listening to the conversation. "I kinda need help with something… I- uh, well, you are a girl so you probably know about this stuff, so…"

It was a difficult task for you to hide the emotion that lightened up your face after hearing his words, finally seeing the perfect opportunity to bond with the guy that has been avoiding you for weeks.

"Of course," you replied, trying not to speak too fast. "I can help you with anything."

"Alright." He nodded, looking down at the floor as he seemed to be putting some order to his words before they left his mouth. "So, the girl you saw the other day, the girl in the bar, remember?"

"I knew you liked her!"

"Well, I just want to bang her, but that's one way to put it," Aegon shrugged after his explanation, while you pressed your lips. "The thing is that, I think she's super hot and gorgeous, and way out of my league, and-"

"Oh, Aegon, you are handsome too!" You interrupted, and he quickly started to look impatient.

"Yeah, but that's not the point," he said, exasperated. "The thing is, the last time that I had sex, the girl I was fucking- uh… well, she said something about my body that really took me off."

"What did she say?" You curiously asked.

"She kinda made fun of it," he replied quickly, as if he was embarrassed.

Your eyes softened immediately after, and your first instinct was to touch him to give him support; however, halfway there you remembered he did not like those gestures, so your hand ended up in the air and seconds later you put it back. Aegon's breath was caught in his throat as he saw how your hand was so close to his skin.

"I'm sorry, Aegon."

"And now I can't get naked in front of this hot girl, even when I really want to!" He cleared his throat, and his tone suddenly changed, now being more angered rather than sad. "I just want to get laid, but I can't! This chick cursed me or something."

"You're not cursed," you said, trying to comfort him somehow. "Listen, you need to work on your self confidence, and-"

"And how do I do that?"

"Do what?"

"How can I work on my self confidence?"

You frowned, "I don't- I'm not sure how-"

"Oh come on!" He raised his voice with exasperation. "You're a teacher! Aren't you supposed to give guidance to your students?"

"Well, my students don't usually ask for sexual advice from their teacher so…"

"You need to help me, please," he pleaded, and you could clearly see the despair in his eyes begging you to say something useful.

You knew you could not fuck this up, not when it was probably the only chance you could have to bond with him after days trying to make him look at you as a friend. Inside of your mind you tried to remember anything that could work in this situation, all those psychology seminars you attended during your college days were coming back to your mind as you thought of an answer.

"Well, you can… try to stand naked in front of a mirror, maybe after you shower, and see the qualities of your body that you like the most."

“Would that work?”

“It might.”

“You sure?”

“Uh… Yes.”

He stood there, silently looking at the floor as he nodded. He muttered something that sounded like a ‘thanks’, and then he slowly turned around. He was visibly embarrassed, he was feeling too vulnerable to look at your face after opening up to you. Of course you immediately noticed, and, as you tried to ignore it, you found some words that you thought he might need to hear.

"Aegon," you called him, and he froze with one foot out of the room and the other inside. He turned around to look at you over his shoulder, and you sighed, "just remember that every person has his own concept of beauty, and only because someone didn't appreciate yours, it doesn't mean other girls won't… We are all beautiful under the right pair of eyes."

He clenched his jaw, gave you a small –almost unnoticeable– nod, and he left. You stood there for a few more seconds before you returned your attention to what you were supposed to be doing. The papers that now were on your desk, were waiting for you to grade them. Just the mere thought of reading through them made you sigh with exhaustion.

It was going to be a long day.

A knock on your door got you distracted enough for you to stop doing your task. The pen dropped from your hand as you turned around to find Jace with a soft smile on his face. You smiled back at him.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

“Are you too busy?” He asked, “I've brought some Chinese food to eat for dinner.”

“Let me finish revising these papers and I'll be there in a minute,” you said as he nodded.

He was about to leave, but then he returned. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he started, “the bathroom lock is broken, so you need to knock before you get in, just in case we're inside.”

“Are you guys gonna buy a new one?”

“Yes. Aemond will go tomorrow after work, we'll divide the costs afterwards,” he explained.

“Oh, alright.”

“Now, hurry or the food will get cold,” he said, and then left the room leaving the door open.

You managed to finish the paper a few minutes later, and then you went to the bathroom to wash your hands before going to eat with the rest. You did what you were told, and you knocked on the door. You waited a couple of seconds, making sure no one would reply from inside before you finally opened the door.

As soon as you opened it, you saw Aegon standing in front of the mirror and staring at himself. Naked.

“Oh, Gods!” you yelped. Your eyes involuntarily taking a quick look over him.

Damn.

“What the fuck?!” he screamed, covering his nudity with both of his hands and wildly blushing.

“Oh gods, I'm so sorry-”

“Get out!”

You acted so quickly that your legs tumbled against each other on your way out. The loud sound of the door closing behind your back echoed in the empty hall as you covered your mouth with your hand, a nervous giggle escaped from your lips before you could even try to hold it back. Your eyes were wide open, and your mind tried to process what you had just seen; Aegon fully naked.

Aemond and Jace soon appeared in the hall as they heard the screaming and the door slam. You looked at them with your breathing fast and sharp, staring at them as if you've seen a ghost. Their curiosity peaked.

“What happened?” Aemond asked, visibly worried.

“Uh- I…”

“Are you okay?” he asked again, and you started to feel a bit overwhelmed.

“I just- I need to- uh… wait for me a bit, I'll- I'll be back in a minute.”

The heat on your cheeks was impossible to ignore as you locked yourself in your room, completely ignoring their questions; you were panicking. You felt dumb, and you closed your eyes frustrated knowing that you screwed it up. You invaded his space and now he will, inevitably, put some distance with you. Now you just wanted to bury your face in the pillow out of embarrassment. How were you supposed to talk to him now that you saw him in all his glory?

And, oh gods, there was glory.

You were ashamed of what just happened; or maybe you just felt embarrassed because you couldn't help but blush at the memory of his body.

The pillow between your hands went straight to your face, muffling the groan that you let go as you fell onto your bed. Gods, you were fucked.

That very same early morning, after finishing their shift, Aegon was supposed to make his first move on the girl who had been in his mind. It was already closing time, the bar was empty at 5am and there was only him and Ceryse. She would occasionally glance at him hoping he would notice that she wore her tightest shirt for him. However, Aegon was busy trying to cheer himself up, trying to forget about that stupid chuckle of yours that still echoed in his mind, haunting him like a fucking ghost.

He had heard you, and –of course– his insecurities made him think the worst.

He was so nervous. It was almost embarrassing how sweaty his palms were; the situation was out of his control and he hated it. He was barely able to focus on his task, absentmindedly cleaning a glass with a cloth as he tried so hard to ignore her presence just to not feel so anxious. His shaky hands failed, and his plan to go unnoticed was unsuccessful; the glass slipped from his fingers and broke into pieces on the floor.

Ceryse widened her eyes and she immediately went to help him, which only made things worse for him. In a desperate attempt to keep her away, he kneeled on the floor and started to pick the glasses with his bare hands, causing small cuts all over his fingers as he did. Low curses and soft moans left his lips as the pinching pain appeared, and Ceryse —as lovely as always— tried to stop him by grabbing his hands and forcing him to stand up.

“You fool,” she mumbled, looking at the bleeding cuts on his fingertips. “You hurted yourself.”

“It's not a big deal-”

“Let me get the emergency kit, don't do anything,” she went to the manager’s office and came back in about a minute later with a red and white box in her hands. Aegon was breathing heavily. He had never felt so insecure.

With the help of a forceps, she started to remove the tiny pieces of glass from his fingers. Aegon would hold his breath, not being able to control his heartbeat when he had her so close to him; he was able to smell her perfume and see her cleavage. He knew he had to be excited, he knew he had all the reasons to enjoy that moment, but you and your stupid giggle refused to leave his mind.

“There,” she murmured as she finished. “Nice and clean.”

Aegon looked at his fingers and noticed how small drops of blood were forming in the tiny cuts. Ceryse took a small tissue and gently tapped on the wounds, cleaning them. Aegon had his lips slightly parted, stiff as a rock as he was almost scared to move. He cursed again, and she softly smiled at him as she finished.

“There you go,” she said, “clean and healed.”

“Uh… Thanks,” Aegon replied, giving her an awkward smile.

She remained silent for a bit, looking at him up and down through her long, blonde lashes. She was visibly flirting with him, but he seemed to be ignoring her. Ceryse had been waiting long enough for him to make the first move, so she now took advantage of their situation; both of them completely alone in the closed bar, about to finish their night shift. She wasn't going to let this opportunity go.

“Are you done playing that game?” She asked. Aegon frown.

“What?”

“I've noticed the way you look at me, Aegon…” she murmured. His breathing was caught on his throat when she started to slowly unbutton her blouse. “I want to let you know that… I've been wanting the same thing for a long time.”

“What- I- uh… what?”

She giggled, and it was the sexiest sound he had ever heard, yet it wasn't enough to suppress your goddamn laugh. A small ‘fuck’ escaped his lips before he could hold it back, and her hands were pressed on his thighs as she leaned towards him. Aegon hummed, cheeks burning red as he felt so exposed all of the sudden.

“We're alone now,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his jaw. “We can do it right here, right now…”

“I don't know if- If it's a good idea…”

She looked shocked.

“Is Aegon Targaryen rejecting an adventure?” she teased him. “Who are you?”

“There's cameras.”

“I turned them off when I went to the office.”

“What if someone walks in?”

“That would only make things spicier.”

“What if it's Nick,” he said, referring to their manager.

“He won't come until 10am.”

He ran out of excuses. The eagerness was visible in her eyes as she bit her lip.

“I'm done waiting, Aegon…” she murmured.

“Ceryse-”

She silenced him with a kiss, and he widened his eyes. He was unable to concentrate on whatever was happening at that moment. His heart was racing, his breathing suddenly ragged, and his hands still shaking as he tried to hold her waist.

Aegon tried to focus and enjoy this. He closed his eyes and followed the kiss, but things got a bit more complicated when she daringly grabbed one of his hands and put them in her rear. Somehow, he felt uncomfortable, so instead of giving her a squeeze, he moved his hands to her hips.

Fuck, he wanted to run and hide.

When her hands attempted to go under his shirt, he squirmed away from her touch, still managing to keep his lips pressed against hers. She giggled, thinking he was just playing hard to get, but as she repeated the action, the outcome was the same.

“Come on, baby,” she murmured against his lips, starting to feel the awkwardness of the situation.

“Just- wait… Ceryse, wait.”

“Don't be shy now…” she said, biting his lip. Aegon hissed.

“I need you to wait- shit,” he said as he squirmed away from her touch once again.

She leaned back, taking a few steps backwards before she looked at him. Her hands immediately went to her chest, to cover the skin that was exposed thanks to her unbuttoned blouse. Her cheeks lit up like fire as she realized how uncomfortable Aegon was.

“Shit…” she murmured, feeling deeply ashamed. “I thought- I thought you liked me. I'm sorry…”

“I do, I swear, I- Ceryse!”

“I'm so sorry, Aegon.”

“No, Ceryse, wait-”

She turned around and left, picking her bag from the counter and leaving the bar in a hurry. Aegon stood there, frozen in his place, his purple eyes filled with confusion to what had just happened, and once the realization hit him like a truck, he brushed his hands against his face and sighed.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Back in the apartment, you were sitting drinking your morning coffee before going to school. You were staring at the news on the TV before you heard the front door slamming close. You jumped in your place, looking confused until Aegon appeared in your sight; your cheeks immediately getting warm as the image of his nudity came back to your mind. However, the expression on his face made you forget about all the embarrassment, and you worried instantly. You hurried to stand up from the kitchen table and go towards him, he groaned as soon as he noticed you were getting closer.

“Aegon, are you alright?” You asked, but there was no answer.

He walked past you, going to the kitchen and ignoring you completely. Of course that your preoccupation did not let you notice such a gesture.

“Hey, is there something you want to talk about?” You insisted, trying to look over his shoulder. “I know what happened might be a little embarrassing for you, but I just want you to know that I barely saw anything!”

Aegon ignored you again.

“Aegon, come on,” you said. “I can help you with anything-”

“Can you?” He interrupted you as he finally turned around and acknowledged your presence. “Because last time you helped me, you cause me another fucking trauma!”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, closing his eyes while he debated inside his mind whether to tell you what had just happened or just keep it to himself. But you were annoyingly insistent, and he just wanted to be alone all day.

He always wanted to be alone when things went wrong.

“You fucked me up even more!” he exclaimed, making you lean back and your lower lip trembled, feeling awful. “I couldn't fuck Ceryse because your stupid laugh was replaying in my mind over and over again,” he confessed. “Like a fucking reminder that my body sucks!”

“Aegon, I didn't-”

“You fucking laughed at me!”

“I didn't laugh at you, Aegon!” you raised your voice, matching his tone. “I was nervous, it was an awkward situation. I saw you naked! Of course I would get nervous!”

Aegon went silent, pressing his lips in a thin line as his eyebrows furrowed. You took a step closer, but he took a step back. You sighed defeated, knowing that all the progress you have made to become his friend had easily vanished in a matter of seconds.

“Look,” you said. “I'm sorry, Aegon. I never meant to make you feel bad.”

He scoffed.

“Yeah, as if a simple apology would fix it,” he said, pettily.

You both stayed in silence for a few seconds, your lips pressed in a thin line as you tried to come up with a solution to your problem. It was certain that you did not have too many options, and Aegon was not giving signs of having an idea to fix it either. That is why you panicked, and your hands went to the hem of your shirt and started to lift it up.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he asked, scandalized.

“I'm getting naked so we can call it even,” you explained, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“I don't want to see you naked! What is wrong with you?”

“Well, then what do you want me to do? I can't get inside your brain and take my laugh out of it.”

“I certainly don't want to see you naked!” he said.

“Alright, I'm sorry, okay?!” you quickly said, looking at his eyes. “I'm sorry that I laughed, and I'm sorry it made you feel bad.”

“That doesn't-”

“Shut up,” you interrupted him. “You are not ugly, you're hot. There, I said it! You have a handsome face and a hot body, and even though you're so grumpy sometimes, your face compensates for it. You know why? Because you are handsome, you idiot.”

“I-”

“I wish I could go with that girl and beat her fucking ass for what she did to you. I wish!” His eyes widened, he was slightly flustered. “She didn't know what she had. You're a good catch, Aegon, and if you don't start to believe it for yourself then no one will.”

You left the room in an overly dramatic walk, leaving Aegon behind with his eyes wide open and his cheeks red. His breathing, somehow, was fast and unsteady. His blood was running quickly down his body as he cleared his throat and turned around to worry about his breakfast. Yet, your words had left a feeling in his gut which felt quite nice.

Aemond suddenly walked out of his room and stopped when he saw Aegon standing in the middle of the open kitchen, staring at the unbaked bacon in the pan. He was weirded out by his brother's strange attitude.

“What's wrong with you?” Aemond asked.

Aegon woke up from his trance and shook his head.

“Nothing.”

He didn't sound too convincing.

“We made a pact, Aegon,” he reminded him, going towards the coffee machine and pouring some of it on a cup. “You are not allowed to sleep with her.” he whispered those last words just to make sure you wouldn't hear it.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffed.

“Just a reminder,” Aemond shrugged, sipping his coffee while Aegon finally turned on the stove.

“Shut up.”

It was 6pm when you arrived back in the apartment after a long day at school. You were dragging your feet through the hall and towards your room, noticing that neither Aemond or Jace had arrived yet, and Aegon was probably in his room. It had been a long day, and the only thing that you craved was a nice and warm shower before going to bed. It was a need.

After your discussion with Aegon in the morning and the tiny bug in your chest that was making you feel guilty all day, you needed some time to relax, to stand beneath the warm water and let it wash away all the stress of your body. So that's what you did.

You took off your clothes the moment you stepped into the bathroom, then quickly got in the shower, feeling the warmth wrapping your body. Your shoulders immediately relaxed and you saw all your troubles vanished in that instant, you let yourself sigh.

Your mind went blank and all you could feel was the warmth and comfort the water produced. It was lovely, it made you forget about all the issues and troubles.

When you finished, you stood there for a bit longer, enjoying the last moments of peace before you would cross your path with Aegon's.

What you did not expect was that, at the very moment that you opened the shower curtain, Aegon opened the door.

And he looked at you.

Naked.

You screamed as your hands went to cover yourself as much as you could. Aegon's mouth dropped as he stared longer than he should have, his pale cheeks turning red as he swallowed hard.

“Aegon!” you yelled his name.

Only then he seemed to react, because he immediately muttered a small ‘sorry’ and then he closed the door. You immediately took the towel from the hanger and you covered yourself, breathing fast. You almost slipped in your way out of the shower, silly movements as you were still trying to take in what had happened.

That goddamn door lock.

Then, in the middle of the silence, you heard him speak.

“Well, I guess we’re even now, aren't we?” he joked on the other side of the door.

“Shut up!” you said, between nervous laughs.

He laughed it off too, and that sound made you smile wider as your cheeks got warm.

It was true though; now you can finally call it even.

BOLD MEANS I COULDN’T TAG YOU

INVISIBLE STRING TAG LIST — @aemondssiut @tillyt04 @doublesparrows @afro-hispwriter @chrisevansslutttt2 @fan-goddess @trshngyn @hiatuswhore @heavenly1927 @deltamoon666 @sahvlren @kravitzwhore @watercolorskyy @n4tforlife @lovevellichor @f4ll-for-you  @namelesslosers @jvpit3rs @marytargaryen @geminidas @aphroditeisamilf

follow @by-fairysluna for updates.

[miguel-ohara-eater]

Just Sit On My Face Then

(red: Miguel)

(this one's a little shorter)

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(Summary: Miguel was kissing you, and you had to pee and he had an idea)

CW: piss kink, no sex this time just piss drinking/spitting, face sitting, nipple play, and uhh... yeah that's it.

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Miguel was laying on top of you, trapping you underneath his arms and kissing on your neck.

you were supposed to have sex a half hour ago, already taken off your clothes but he got sidetracked and has been kissing and touching on you ever since.

you weren't complaining though, since him touching you still felt good, but there was a little problem.

"...Miguel I have to pee." you whispered, and he rubbed your hips.

"hmm just wait a couple more minutes okay?" he said against your neck, kissing your jaw.

you tilted your head for him, your hands holding his slutty waist and you didn't have to pee that bad so you could hold it until he was satisfied.

he trailed his kisses down your neck, to your collarbone, and then he licked the valley of your breasts.

you let out a soft moan, running your hand through his hair and his mouth latched on one of your nipples, his hand holding the other one with his thumb rubbing against the other nipple.

his tongue swirled around the bud, licking and sucking. you looked down at him, to see he was already making eye contact.

he sucked a couple more times, before moving to the other nipple to do the same thing.

and by the time he'd finished, you thought your bladder might explode.

"Miguel I really gotta pee now." you said as you crossed your legs and he made his way back to your hickey covered neck.

"can't you just hold it a little longer?" he asked, and you shook your head.

he sighed, still not getting up but he held onto you and rolled onto his back, with you on top now.

you looked down at him, your legs still crossed.

"can I go? I'll be right back." you said and he shook his head and sat you up on his chest.

"why leave? just sit on my face." he smiled and your eyes widened.

you had a piss kink too, but was never open about it in case he didn't want to.

"... you're into that stuff?" you raised your eyebrows and he nodded

"100%" he has his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs against them.

"so you gonna sit on my face or what?" he smiled again.

you were hesitant, but eventually nodded and you got up and hovered over his face.

you sighed and he raised an eyebrow.

"I said sit." he said and you looked down at him.

"I'm gonna suffocate you."

he rolled his eyes, pulling your hips down on top of him and you sat fully on him.

after a couple seconds, you tried to pee but couldn't even though you still had to.

"Miguel I don't have to pee anymore." you whispered and you felt him say something, and then he reached up and pressed on your bladder.

you let out a little squeak, accidentally emptying your bladder into his mouth.

you sat there, red and embarrassed until he pulled you off and sat you next to him.

his mouth full of piss, he laid you down and crawled over you.

he raised an eyebrow for approval, and somehow you knew what he meant and you slowly nodded. he opened his mouth a little, the pee dribbling onto your body until his mouth was empty.

you looked up at him, the piss soaked into the sheets and your skin. you felt pathetic and nasty, but that was the part you liked.

he smiled and kissed your cheek. "better?" you nodded

"better."

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I don't have a piss kink so idk if I did this right I'm sorry 😭

this one is something completely new to me and I didn't know how to write it tbh lmao. this one's posted a little early but wtvv

but anyways hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @kinkybandages

[number1mingyustan]

Stay ✹ ☾

exbf!joshua x fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, kissing, definitely not a healthy relationship, fingering (f.), unprotected sex (pls be safe it's caused enough problems for these two), multiple orgasms

Summary: No matter how bad it is for you, Joshua will always stay

Word Count: 2.7k

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(a/n: obviously still not proofread lmao, but it’s been a while since i’ve posted content that wasn’t ‘the long game’ so i felt like i owed you guys something)

“You’re late,” you frown.

Joshua stands outside your apartment door, equally as annoyed as you. “Well hello to you too.”

Your son is over his shoulder sleeping peacefully and Joshua is holding his bag in his other hand. It’s Sunday night and you’ve been up worrying about his whereabouts for the past hour.

“You picked him up an hour late on Friday, and now you’re late again,” you scoff. “We talked about this.”

He lets out an exhausted sigh. “Can you at least let me in before you scold me?”

There’s a brief moment of silence. Joshua looks at you, you look back at him.

You finally move out the way, no longer blocking the door to let him in. You take your son’s bag out of Joshua’s hand, placing it in the living room.

“I’m gonna tuck him in,” Joshua whispers.

Before you can protest, Joshua is already walking toward your son, Juyeon’s room quietly.

By the time he comes back, you’re leaned over the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in your hand. Classic.

He eyes you, walking toward the front door.

“Do you want a glass?“ you offer.

“No thank you,” he responds. “I have to drive home and I’ve got work in the morning.”

You scoff. “Suit yourself.”

He rolls his eyes. “You know this whole coparenting thing doesn’t work if you’re just gonna act like a bitch for the next 15 years.”

“Excuse me?“ you retort.

You and Joshua never got married. You fell apart before you could ever get to that point. The two of you met when he was 19 and you were 18 through some mutual friends. You fell for each other immediately, no hesitation in starting a relationship.

The first two and a half years were perfect.

You guys never really talked about kids prior. It was something for the far future. Or at least it was supposed to be.

You got pregnant at 21 and everything fell apart. Neither of you were really ready to be parents, but you tried. You really tried, but it took a toll on your relationship.

Once the fights started, they never stopped. They continued to get worse over time. You both wanted different things, and a crying baby at all times only made it harder.

And eventually everything just… turned to shambles.

You put up with it for 3 years and it was hell. The fighting was constant, and a few months ago your and Joshua were finally able to agree on one thing: you couldn’t raise your son in an environment like this.

It’s been almost 4 months since you and Joshua officially broke up. Truth be told, you guys ended it a year and a half prior, but it wasn’t completely official. You still lived together, often slept in the same bed amongst over things. But the spark wasn’t really there anymore.

Juyeon is now 3 and he lives with you in your apartment.Joshua gets him every weekend and that’s just how things are.

It’s been 4 months since you guys started coparenting, and it was actually going quite smoothly. Joshua picked him up every Friday after daycare and brought him back at 7 on sunday. It was all going smoothly until last weekend.

“For fuck’s sake Y/n,” he exclaims. “You are so fucking difficult sometimes! I literally cannot do anything without you up my ass!”

“Maybe if you were more responsible I wouldn’t have to be!” you respond.

“I can’t believe you’re still not over that,” he rolls his eyes. “How much do you want me apologize? Nothing even happened!”

“You brought a complete stranger into your home while our son was with you! You let him be with a complete stranger Joshua!” you should.

He massages his temples. “Because you brought him over Y/n! You told me your parents wanted to spend the weekend with him, so I was willing to give it up. And then you told me last minute that they weren’t going to be able to take him and I could have my weekend back. You seriously cannot be mad at me when I already made plans!”

“You let that woman be around my son and you didn’t talk to me about it.” you look him dead in the eye.

He laughs humorlessly. “Honestly I think you’re more bothered by the fact that I was on a date more than the fact that she met him.”

“Go fuck yourself.” you respond.

“What? Did i hit a nerve?” he smirks.

“You are so frustrating!” you exclaim.

Suddenly, the soft sound of footsteps fills your ears. You and Joshua turn in unison, seeing a sleepy Juyeonin the kitchen.

“Ma?” he questions, rubbing his eyes.

Your heart breaks a little at the sight. Juyeon is standing there in his pyjamas, questioning why his parents are screaming at each other. It’s exactly what you wanted the avoid, the entire reason you and Josh called it quits.

“Juyeon honey,go back to bed,” you tell him softly.

“I heard yelling,” he responds with a pout.

You quickly glance back at Joshua, he looks just as upset as you.

“Everything’s okay bubs, it’s just grown up stuff,” you coo. “I’m gonna tuck you in now okay?”

He yawns,and nods, reaching up his hands so you can pick him up. You secure his body, lifting him up and walking toward Joshua. “Say goodnight to Daddy.”

However, your son is stubborn just like you. He refuses, tightening his grip on you and refusing to acknowledge his father. “Don’t wanna,” he whines. “Want Daddy to tuck me in.”

“I thought I was tucking you in?” you respond.

Juyeon yawns again. “Want both of you to do it.”

You and Joshua exchange a quick glance, silently agreeing that you’ll do it together. The three of you walk to your son’s bedroom. You place his body in the bed, Joshua helping you to properly tuck him in. You both say your good nights and I love yous before heading back to the kitchen.

The tension between the two of you is just as thick, if not thicker than before. You’re both ashamed of having been caught arguing by your son.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

You sigh. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I was just being petty

“If it makes you feel any better,” he gives you a half-smile. “She and I broke up. Wasn’t gonna work out.”

“Oh,” you frown. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he leans against the counter. “She wasn’t the one for me.”

He stared at you as if you’re the only person in the world. You swear his eyes light up when he speaks.

“At least you’ve gotten to go out,” you shrug. “I’m in a bit of a dry spell.”

You? Joshua doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. For the entirety of your relationship with him, you were like a magnet. There were too many times he recalled having to shoo away guys who tried to hit on you.

“As long as you and I were together, there was always some guy on you. I’m finding that a little hard to believe,” he comments.

“It’s different for you than it is me,” you shrug. “Girls love it when guys have kids because they get to play mom without being mom and they think kids are cute. Guys don’t want the responsibility of someone else’s kid, so they avoid it as much as they can. Don’t think I’ll be finding the one for me any time soon.”

He’s staring at you again, analyzing and internalizing your every word. He doesn't know why, but he wants to kiss you so bad right now. It's crazy how quickly he can go from yelling at you to wanting to have another kid.

Crazy.

That's how you make him feel, how you make each other feel. You drive each other crazy, somehow in both the best and worst ways possible.

He clears his throat. "I should go."

"Yeah," you breathe. "I'll walk you out."

The two of you take a few steps toward the door. You open it and he takes another step. Before he walks out, you grab his arm.

"I'm really sorry about how I've been acting," you apologize again.

"It's fine, we'll work it out," his gaze shifts between your eyes and your lips. He really wants to kiss you.

"Yeah," you breathe out. "I'll see you Friday? And you'll text me if you need anything?"

He nods, gazing down at your lips again. There's a moment of silence. He doesn't walk out the door like to expect him to.

"Josh-"

He cuts you off by pressing his lips against yours. His actions shock you, but kissing him is like muscle memory. Before you know it, you're pinned against the wall of the kitchen and he's kicked the door closed. The kiss is heated and passionate, no different than how he's always kissed you.

His lips are sweet, likely from whatever candy you know he's been feeding Juyeon. Instinctively his hands rest on your hips, lightly squeezing. You moan softly into his mouth, relishing in his touch.

He pulls away suddenly. You're both panting softly, looking at one another with purely shocked expressions.

"I'm sorry, fuck– I shouldn't have– 'M sorry," he rambles, running his hands frantically through his hair. "I should really go."

You look up at him with a soft gaze. Your eyes are round and beady, gleaming with hope. You missed him. You've been trying to convince yourself for the last 4 months that you were fine without him, but deep down inside you knew it was all lies.

Admittedly yes, you two fell apart years prior, but you realized just how much you needed him after he was gone. Waking up to an empty bed may have started 2 years ago, but waking up to an empty home was something you hated the thought of getting used to.

"Stay," you plead.

"I can't," his voice breaks. "This isn't good for us."

"Josh," you pout. "Stay."

Fuck. He should leave, he should really leave. You two aren't good for each other anymore. Maybe you can work decently as parents, but when you bring the romance back into the equation, things go downhill. Fuck, he should really leave.

But he can't. Not when you're looking at him like that. Your eyes are practically fucking begging him to stay. He should really go.

"Okay," he whispers. His lips are on yours again. Your whole body heats up as he kisses you. He taps your thigh, signaling you to jump.

You lift your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he carries you. He places your body on the counter and starts leaving kisses along your neck. His fingers sneakily travel up your nightgown, sliding your panties down to your ankles and onto the floor.

You tilt your head back as his lips travel toward your breasts. One of the straps falls to your shoulder almost on cue, exposing one of your breasts to him. You lift your hips slightly as you feel his fingers slide up your thigh.

He pushes a finger inside of you, causing you to let out a soft moan. His lips are wrapped around your nipple.

“Joshy,” you whine. “Want you inside of me.”

He feels his cock throb in his pants. He’s already failing in his self control by doing this with you and your words are so tempting. As tempting as it was to slip his cock inside of you at that moment, he knew he couldn’t.

“Not yet,” he mumbles against your skin. “ ‘S been too long, gotta prep you first.”

He pumps his finger a few times before adding another. You’re a moaning mess, cunt clenching around his fingers desperately.

His thumb circles your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. You’re panting his name, pushing your hips into his digits with every movement.

“Shua,” you pant. “So good, you’re so good.”

Your words only encourage him. His fingers pick up in pace, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm. His fingers are completely coated in your arousal, dripping onto the counter. You’ll have to clean that later,

The coil in your lower stomach finally snaps and you enter a state of bliss. Your orgasm came much faster than anticipated, but of course, it was Josh.

It may have been a while, but Joshua knew you better than you knew yourself. Where all your sweet spots were, what ticked you off, what made you smile. He’d never forget those things about you.

He pulls his fingers out of you. slipping them into his mouth. He sucks lightly, letting out a quiet moan. He’s missed the way you taste.

You hardly give it a second before you’re reaching for his pants, frantic to feel him inside of you. He chuckles, undoing his pants to give you what you want.

His cock springs free, and he drags his tip across your folds. Your arousal coats the head of his cock as you push your hips against him. It’s almost pathetic how desperate you are for him. However, he hesitates.

“Baby,” he sighs. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“Don’t care, just want you inside of me,” you whine.

You’re not thinking straight. You know better, but you choose to play the fool. It’s been so long since you and Joshua have been together like this. Even if it’s temporary, you want to milk the experience for as much as you can. You’ve missed this too much to less the opportunity pass by.

Joshua however, is still hesitant. “Baby I know, but we really shouldn’t-“

“I’m on the pill,” you cut him off.

You were also on the pill when you got pregnant with Juyeon. It was shitty luck that you somehow still got pregnant and it would be even shittier luck if it happened again. But the chances are slim, and you’re so consumed by lust in the moment that you continue to play the fool.

Joshua likes to think he’s good with his self control, unless he’s with you. You make it hard for him to show restraint, and it often leads to chaos. He knows this, but he too chooses to play to fool.

So he lets you win, and he gives you what he wants. He fucks you hard and fast on the kitchen counter. His hands flies to your mouth in an attempt to keep you quiet.

His pace is relentless, hips slamming into you roughly. Your moans are muffled again his hand, but they’re just loud enough for him to hear and use as encouragement.

Your body jerks back with each thrust as he bottoms out. His cock fills you up, hitting every sweet spot inside of you effortlessly.

He knew he wasn’t gonna last long from the moment he slipped his first finger in you. You were so tight and warm around his fingers, he knew once he was inside of you it would milk him completely dry.

His cock twitches inside of you, indicating his impending orgasm. Selflessly, his thumb finds its way back to your clit. He circles it quickly, bringing back the familiar feeling in your lower abdomen.

He just wants to watch you cum again. Your orgasms are a sight to see, and selfishly he wants to watch it again. It’s been so long and he knows he can get you there quickly.

He knows he should pull out, but once your second orgasm hits, he’s a goner. You’re tightening and throbbing around him, making it nearly impossible for him to pull out, not that he ever had the self control to do it anyway.

His cock is buried deep inside of you as he cums, painting your walls entirely white. Considering how long it’s been since he’s last touched you, he spills a large load into you. You milk him for every drop he has to offer.

He drops his hand, uncovering your mouth. Both of your minds are still fuzzy as you come down from your highs. You’re both panting heavily in place as your minds clear up.

He looks down, wincing at the sight. He finally pulls out of you slowly. You cringe as he slips out, looking down and seeing the absolute mess you made.

Fuck, he came a lot.

You briefly make eye contact with Joshua as the post-nut clarity hits. You bite your bottom lip nervously.

Neither of you say it out loud, but you’re both thinking the same thing. You really really hope the pill works this time.

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[addisonstars]

"trick or kiss"

written for day 17 of october for @jegulus-microfic with the prompt "trick"

689 words!

James came up to Regulus and said “trick or treat!” with a huge goofy grin on his face. Regulus rolled his eyes; however, he couldn’t help but laugh. He handed James a handful of candy, even though he was supposed to save it for the kids later. 

“Jamie, stop eating all the candy babe, we have actual trick-or-treaters coming later to our door. We’ve already been through half of the two bags we bought for tonight, thanks to you.” Regulus pretends to be upset, but really, he can’t be when it comes to James. 

James frowns. “Are you saying I’m not an actual trick-or-treater? How dare you!” James says, mock offended. 

In his defense, he is dressed up like one. He was wearing his old Hogwarts robes from a long time ago. Regulus suggested he burn them, as Regulus had done with his, but James was a sentimental bloke and couldn't bear the thought of getting rid of them. It may have been 10 sizes too small, but James didn't care. It may have looked a little goofy on James, but again, he didn’t care. 

Regulus supposed that's what he liked about James. James had enough care for everything and everyone, but never when it came to himself in negative ways. He didn’t care that he was married to a guy, wearing a childish costume, and had a personality unlike the sun; he just went through life living and loving every moment of it. 

Regulus kisses James briefly on his lips before returning to the task at hand. It was still light outside, so the kids - or adults - were not quite prowling the streets yet but would be soon. James ate a piece of the candy that he had gotten earlier and smiled. 

“I had forgotten how good dark chocolate was, we never have any in the house.” he says, after he finished the piece. 

Regulus groaned. “That's because it’s nasty.” 

“You take that back, dark chocolate is the finest stuff there is. It’s not less concentrated like milk chocolate is, and it isn't that fake stuff they call white chocolate.” 

Regulus scoffed. “I enjoy my ‘less-concentrated chocolate’, thank you very much.” 

“Whatever.” James says, and then grabs the bucket to scout for some more dark chocolate. 

“James.” Regulus pulls the bucket out of his grasp, shoo-ing him away

“I know I know,” he concedes. He moves around back into the kitchen, his robes swishing as he moves. He comes back with a couple pieces of the stuff. “That’s why I stashed away some for later,” he smiles sheepishly. 

Regulus sighs, but smiles at it. Of course he did. 

“I didn’t want to have to deplete it this early though, I’ll have to remedy that sooner than later.” He thinks thoughtfully. 

“Just stay out of this bucket, I can’t have any more disappearing, otherwise I’m sending you out to get some more tonight. I want to make sure the kids have enough.” He says, looking down at the bucket. 

James moves over to where Regulus is looking a little too intently down at the bucket. 

“Reg, honey, the kids will have enough. I’ll even give some of my stash away if I have too.” He moves his hand to grab Regs’ chin gently and guide it up to where their eyes meet. “Don’t worry about it.” He leans it, nose nuzzling nose. 

Regulus dips his head to meet James in a kiss. His kisses always manage to sweep him off his feet, instantly wanting to bend over backwards for the other. He supposes that's what love is. They stay connected like that for a minute, mindful that everyone can see them through the windows on the side of the door they are standing right beside. 

Regulus hears rustling sounds, and picks up on the sound of candy being rifled through. “James,” Regulus starts. 

James pulls his hand back, mockingly innocent. “Just one piece?” he asks with a puppy dog face on. And how could Regulus ever say no to that precious face of his. He reluctantly hands him a piece of candy, and James repays him with a kiss. 

not me posting todays only like an hour before the day ends lmao! anyways, have a great day lovelies <3

-a.s.

[stonerskinny]

almost 1) downed three bottles of pills and half a bottle of fireball and 2) schedule sent a sewerslide note. but that was an hour ago and i have now put all of that stuff back in its place and prayed to my mother about my appointment that’s in like 7 hours now and decided that i accept defeat. on behalf of my eating disorder, that is.

i will never be satisfied with my weight or body for as long as i live in this eating disorder. and i have suffered enough. i have suffered abuse and abandonment at the hands of those who were supposed to love me since before i was born. i have done my fucking time and i think perhaps i don’t have to actually literally die to prove that to myself. and i already don’t need to prove it to anyone else because they all seem to be more aware of it than me somehow.

i am going to go wherever they tell me to go. i will probably sob about it if it isn’t residential, but i will go. and if it is residential then i will still sob but it will be like four hours later once im in the building. but i am begging and praying that my doctor signs my clearance letter and if she does — WHEN she does (#manifestation) — i will text my intake lady and ask her to change my admission to as soon as humanly possible. and they just had like three discharges and are 7 ppl below capacity so that may very well be like 10am tomorrow.

i fucking love you guys and i owe it to you all that i am still around rn. and i will miss you dearly when i am locked in eating disorder jail for god knows how long. because at the end of the day i guess i don’t know what the difference really is between 50k and 75k in medical debt. i’m gonna ignore it either way LMAO so like. whatever. i will call my cousin and ask her to co-sign a personal loan for me so i can get my house fixed and pay my lawyers and put a little money in my bank account to cover my deductible which i will meet by the end of the first week of january probably. and then my insurance will cover everything else for the rest of the YEAR and i can finish treatment and get a new job that i like more and experience life for the first time ever. and pay off my debt slowly but surely so i don’t ruin my cousins credit forever of course.

the thing is, at the end of the day, The Final Exit is literally always an option. so why not try my luck one more time at getting better? because i can’t know for sure that it wont stick this time. i can’t predict the future as much as i may wish i could, so instead of throwing in the towel before i even start i might as well make good on the steps i’ve already taken and the promises i’ve already made and just try it. one more time. and if it doesn’t work out then ill cut my losses and reevaluate. but who is Present Me to make a decision for Future Me?

i shall update y’all tomorrow after my appointment regardless of the outcome and if the outcome is admitting to res an hour later i will post the whole time im in the uber. hell ill take a fucking selfie when i get there and make it my profile pic until i discharge so y’all know where im at LMAO

[featherdusterbelphie]

WHB Belphie discussion! (Again)

I'm gonna be going back and rewriting some of my theories.

So first off, according to this post, Belphie seems... More lenient than he seems. Which means he's definitely not that strict and/or maybe doesn't care as much about what his people do or where they go? (Or maybe that's just because those three are high-ranking devils so of course they have more freedom)

Which makes me retract on my earlier statement from my previous post:

for some reason, I have a feeling that he's very mean? Or like, he's one of those who will bully MC LOL

(though I can't tell if it's bully because he likes mc, or bully because that's just how he is)

Or at least, he isn't the type to just punish his people because he got irritated (unlike Levi) so it makes me think that he probably bullies MC because he likes them. That's just his attitude when it comes to the person he likes. He treats them... Not like shit, but not very nicely either hahaha.

OH and I just realized from the post I mentioned earlier that Dre has a halo! What?! I completely forgot about that so I'm embarrassed about what I said regarding Belphie's halo—

......I was going to say something about Belphie wearing angel limbs/pieces as accessories, but after seeing @/aki-shun's and @/sparkbeast20's observation and theories, I'm starting to think that the halo is indeed because of an experiment. From their observation, Belphie, Levi and Mammon are the only kings so far that had their mouths closed in their teasers, all the other kings do not.

Which leaves me with a foreboding feeling...Both the halo and the double pupils are definitely part of that experiment.

I'm only aware with Levi's past of escaping from an angel camp, and I've only just recently (like, a few hours ago) found out that Mammon has been as well. Which makes me think Belphie definitely also got 'napped and experimented on by the angels. Which is just so 😭 I wanna hug him (until he pushes me away lmao)

Also, thanks for @/eternal-auditor for reminding me of Beel's obscenely delicious looking dick and the tattoo on it that Belphie also has on his forehead which is.... honestly so boring. They're devils and they have tattoos of The Devil's insignias...but I guess PB has done worse...

Ah, but having another devil that has tattoos is nice, don't get me wrong. I wonder how many Belphie will have. I reckon he has a lot (and I also reckon it's to cover up some of his lingering scars).

Also I drew him some more in school. I tried to incorporate that halo he has and changed his attire to resemble Dre's since it's supposed to be a uniform.

(sorry about the quality, I'm too lazy to redraw this in ibis)

I redesigned his hair in this because I just realized that he could also have a half-up do and still look like the teaser!!! I was wearing this style earlier (but less pointy and ragged because my hair was long and wet and incredibly straight) so I thought why not give him this? He looks like he could be drinking champagne while murdering people with Sanzu lmao. Very mafia-esque which I ADORE

Also also!!! Going back to sparkbeast20's post, there's a Twitter post by @/WHB_kiri where they drew Belphie's eye where it only shows the second (upper) pupil when he's serious. So here's the last of my two cents!

Wouldn't it be fun if his pupils rotated as well? Like the swirly spin wheel thing that hypnotists use to make someone fall asleep etc. but it's Belphie trying to threaten someone. That would be fun.

Aaaanyway, I will probably be making more of these because Belphie in general is very special to me<33......LMAO so watch out and filter if you're getting tired of it! Also I apologize if this whole thing is so gibberish and difficult to understand. I haven't been sleeping right and my brain is just scrambled ahahaha

Also, fuuuuck me. There's a new Luci card and it's only in the stupid premium pass?! Goddamn it! I didn't get Luci when he launched so what the fuck?!?! 😭😭🙃🤬🤬😭😭

<< PREV || NEXT >>

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

wedding planner au first family holiday 💕

AHHH this sounds so cute. I decided to go with the first family Christmas after Kerri is adopted for this one. Also I didn't mean for this to be 1.3k words lmao See this post for some references mentioned in this fic!

"Why does your room look like a tornado went through it?" Sasha asked as she hovered in the doorway of her daughter's bedroom.

Kerri usually kept her bedroom fairly clean, but it seemed that half of her closet was scattered on the floor. Even though they were about to leave to spend Christmas Day with Anetra's family soon.

"Because I have nothing to wear." Kerri came into view as she plopped on her bed, on top of the clothes and hangers. "What am I supposed to wear to these things?" she sighed as she slumped against her headboard.

“What do you usually wear for holidays?” Sasha asked as she carefully found a place to sit on the long storage ottoman.

“Before or after the foster house?” Kerri asked as she rolled her eyes. “Either way, I’m not wearing my old church suit.”

“I know, Kare-Bear,” Sasha said with a sympathetic smile. She started using the nickname before the adoption was finalized, which Kerri liked hearing. “So what were you thinking?” She asked, looking at the scattered clothing.

“No idea.” Kerri pursed her lips as she looked at her clothes. “What are you and Anetra wearing? I don’t want to stick out too much.”

Sasha looked down at her cream sweater and bootcut jeans, “Probably this, maybe some mascara and lipstick before we head out.” she shrugged.

“So you don’t dress up nice or anything?” Kerri asked.

“My dad's side of the family never dresses up for anything, besides a wedding or a funeral.” Both looked to see Anetra leaning against the door frame. “And they already love you, even though you haven’t even met most of of them yet.”

Anetra picked through the clothes on the floor, before finding a gold sweater with small white cats all over. “What about this one? Although I don’t remember seeing it before.” She held it up for Kerri to see.

“That’s because it’s Jasmine’s. She left here two weeks ago and hasn’t noticed yet.” she pointed out.

That gave Sasha an idea, “You should wear it tonight, maybe it will help you feel more comfortable.” she offered.

She watched Kerri’s face as she thought, “Maybe I could wear that, I know it’ll fit me.”

“We’ll go get the car ready and meet you downstairs soon.” Sasha gently squezzed Kerri’s knee efore leaving the bedroom with Anetra.

"We've been here for over an hour, and you still haven't left this chair," Sasha told Kerri after finding a moment in between talking with family to sneak off. "And getting up for the bathroom doesn't count."

Kerri frowned in response, "It's just really different from other family Christmases, I guess." she shrugged as she looked around.

"In what way?" Sasha asked.

"Usually it's church service, then I watch my siblings and cousins since I was the oldest, then we go home," Kerri explained, looking out the window to a group of cousins playing outside. The group was bigger than what she was used to, and a wide variety of ages.

"That sounds more like work for you than fun." Sasha pointed out, and Kerri thought for a moment, before nodding in agreement. 

"Don't let us loud Filipinos scare you off." Anetra appeared on Kerri's other side. She was holding a blue bundle of blankets that Sasha had last seen in her arms.

"How long have you been holding your cousin's baby for?" Sasha playfully asked her. She had a feeling Anetra may have had baby fever when she was excited to meet the newborn a few weeks before.

"She hasn't asked for him back yet," Anetra said in mock defense, "And he's wearing the onesie we got him too!" she showed Sasha and Kerri.

Sasha playfully rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to her daughter, "I think the kids are going to have hot chocolate and watch Home Alone in a bit."

"You're probably bored of listening to your aunties gossiping about their soap operas too," Anetra added in a low voice, glancing at the group of older women sitting across the room.

Kerri tried to stifle her laughter as Sasha tried to lead her to the kitchen, "C'mon, you can be on whipped cream and sprinkles duty." 

A couple hours later as the night was drawing to a close, Sasha watched more family members say their goodbyes and leave to go home. Even Anetra started looking more tired as she tried to hold a conversation with her grandmother.

She started gathering her family's belongings and new gifts as Anetra began to notice and start to help. Once everything was in the car, Sasha found the remainder of the younger cousins watching Home Alone 2 in the den of the house. She smiled to herself as she saw Kerri sitting in between two female cousins around her age., quietly chatting.

She waved Kerri over to the doorway, and before she could say anything, Kerri spoke first, "Is it okay if I spend the night?" she asked. Sasha knew that the younger cousins and grandkids that lived closer liked to spend Christmas night at their grandparent's house. She would have never guessed Kerri would want to stay as well, especially for her Christmas in the family.

"Oh, I guess you could," Sasha said, trying to hide her surprise. "Do you have everything you need? We can bring you something from home if you want." she offered.

"I don't think so, I think I have everything I need here." Kerri beamed before hugging Sasha goodbye, "Thank you."

Sasha wrapped her arms around her daughter, "If you need anything, just let me or Netra know, okay? Just call us and we'll be right here. Love you, Kare-Bear." she smiled as she let go.

"I know, I love you too."

"At least we can have a nice drink tonight," Anetra said as Sasha settled next to her on their living room couch, passing her a small glass of eggnog.

Sasha took a sip of her drink before finding a coaster on the table. "I'm still worried about Kerri, what if something happens?"

"She'll be fine, she's in great hands," Anetra said as she scrolled through the holiday movie selection on Netflix. "She knows that we'll answer the phone no matter what time at night."

"I know, I'm just hoping this is a step in the right direction and her cousins don't just make her watch the little kids," Sasha said.

"They wouldn't do that, that's more of a white people thing," Anetra joked. "She's going to love it. I wish I had that option instead of going to boring Mormon church all day on Christmas when I grew up."

"Sounds better than no celebrating anything at all," Sasha said matter-of-factly.

"Good point. Wanna watch A Christmas Prince?"

"Of course I do, we watch it every year." Sasha laughed as the movie started playing, pulling Anetra closer to her by the waist.

They quietly watched the movie, and let the autoplay start the next movie. As the beginning scenes played, Anetra spoke up as she took the last sip of her drink, "Hey Sasha?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" Sasha responded as she looked away from the screen.

"I want another one," Anetra said out loud as she turned down the volume of the TV. She continued to stare into her empty glass.

"Another what? Do you want another drink?" Sasha guessed.

Anetra sat up and looked at her wife, "No, I want another kid." she said. "I've been thinking a lot, and I really want us to be parents again," she said in sincerity, holding Sasha's hand.

Sasha nodded, understanding where Anetra's baby fever was coming from for the last few months, "I want to see our family grow too." she smiled. "I can try to call that social worker to see what kids we can adopt, or we can look into other options soon, too."

"I want to try carrying a baby." Anetra said, "I know we'll probably have to find a sperm donor and go to a lot of doctors, but I want to try to get pregnant."

"Then that's what we'll do after New Year," Sasha said as she gently kissed Anetra's cheek. "Even though holidays with a newborn sounds like hell."

"I think it'll be a Christmas to remember."

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Long Day, Late Night (m)

Guys, idk what to say, clearly I’m going through a bit of a ~writing hyperfixation~ so please have this 2.5k mishmash I couldn’t get out of my mind even though I literally just posted a fic yesterday. 

This one is Greyson-centric, and takes place even earlier than the last one - like just a couple months after Greyson started at the restaurant (btw, the restaurant name is Elliot’s, which you find out in this story). It’s the first time Greyson is sick at work and Elijah is *oblivious*. I hope you like it, as always I’m not about to read it before I post it so you get what you get lmao. Also as always, I love and am obsessed with you all mwah mwah ok here’s the story gtg BYE

cw: male, cold, coughing

Long Day, Late Night

The only small mercy Greyson could think of was that this didn’t happen often.

In fact, Greyson couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt this shitty. It certainly hadn’t been in at least a year; definitely not since he’d started at Elliot’s. He cursed the unspoken chef rule of never calling out, never admitting defeat, and powering through everything; maybe he should’ve taken his mother’s advice and gone into accounting. Greyson seriously doubted that accountants prided themselves on going to work sick.

Greyson pushed through the back doors of the kitchen, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights against a killer headache. Silently, he said a prayer to the universe that today would be an easy day. They had a table of 15 that was supposed to occupy most of the evening – thank god, he found himself thinking. Maybe I can get out of here early.

“Chef,” Elijah greeted Greyson as the chef walked into the office and slammed down his backpack. The GM was fervently typing out a text message, a look of frustration obvious on his face. Greyson yanked off his sweatshirt and pulled his chef’s coat off the back of his chair before returning Elijah’s greeting.

“Boss,” he said, straining against a painfully sore throat. Elijah sighed, clicking his phone off and regarding the chef once again.

“We have a problem,” Elijah said, rubbing a hand down his face. Greyson froze in the midst of buttoning his coat; those were certainly words you didn’t ever want to hear from your boss in your relatively-new position.

“Problemb being…?” Greyson asked, cringing inwardly at the congestion he could already hear in his voice. Fortunately for him, Elijah either didn’t notice or ignored it.

“The fifteen top,” Elijah said, pulling up their reservations on the computer. Greyson peeked over his shoulder and widened his eyes when he saw it.

“Forty?” Greyson asked, incredulous. “Since when has it gone up to forty?”

Elijah sighed again, defeated, and turned back to the chef. “An hour ago they called and asked if they could up their reservation; the hostess answered.”

“The ndew girl? With half a brain and huge tits?”

Elijah snorted. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Fuck me, Boss. Tell mbe you called them back and said we can’t do it.”

Elijah winced. “That’s the thing, Chef. It wasn’t them who called; it was the concierge at their hotel. They’re out all day, won’t be back to the hotel until after dinner. So…”

“So we can’t change it,” Greyson groaned. “Fuck. I mean, I don’t know if I even ha – ahh...ahhHSTSHH-ue! NGTSHH-oo! Snrf.” Greyson covered his nose with one hand and snatched a tissue from his and Elijah’s shared desk with the other. He cleaned himself up and crumpled the tissue in his hand before finishing. “I don’t evend kndow if I have enough product.”

“Bless,” Elijah said, distracted. “I know. It’s fucked, and I’m sorry. If we have to change their menu, we can. I’m here for you, chef. I’ll even throw on an apron if you need.”

Greyson groaned once again; of course this would happen today, of all days. The day he woke up aching and congested and with his throat on fire. The one day in his almost-three-months at his new job where he wasn’t planning on working fifteen hours. Greyson bit his cheek against the frustration he felt building inside him and turned back to his boss.

“It’s ok,” he said, attempting a smile. He clapped a hand onto his boss’s shoulder and grabbed his knife bag. “We’ll mbake it work. Thanks for the offer, b – HNGSTH-ue! HRSHH! HFTSHH! Huhhh...Hhh...hnnn.” Greyson swore from the crook of his elbow, cursing that final stuck sneeze. He grabbed another tissue, before thinking twice and grabbing the whole box to take with him.

“Bless, chef. And thank you, you’re a beast,” Elijah said, turning back to the computer once again. “Oh, and one more thing: we still have that tasting with the owners of that winery upstate today. They’ll be in at two – can you still come taste with me?”

Greyson raised an eyebrow and sucked in through his stuffed-up nose again. “Uh. Sure, boss. I’ll mbake it a priority.”

“Appreciate it,” Elijah said, turning to smile at the chef for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything from me.”

***

It wasn’t that Greyson was mad; it wasn’t even that he was disappointed. If anything, Greyson was just...confused.

Don’t get him wrong, Greyson was usually the first person to deny a cold. But he’d known from the moment he opened his eyes that this was no cold; he’d felt the snake-like chokehold of a fever almost immediately, and he’d devolved from a slightly stuffed nose at seven am to near-constant sneezing fits by ten. His throat was nearly closed with pain, and he could already tell that the cough was going to be a problem. He didn’t expect sympathy from his boss, but...some acknowledgment of the fact that he was clearly ill would’ve been nice.

“Huhh...NGSTHH-uhh! HehhGTZSH-ue! Fuckigg hell.” Greyson grabbed yet another tissue from the box he’d placed on his prep station and blew his nose again. His cooks had begun filing in for their shifts, and every one of them had cringed at their chef’s appearance on seeing him.

“Wow, chef,” his sous chef, Matt, had said when he joined his boss at the prep station. “That’s dedication.”

Greyson had made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat before tossing the tissue and washing his hands. “Ndo choice,” Greyson said, turning to cough into his elbow. When the coughing fit finally subsided, he turned back to Matt. “Fifteend-top’s forty ndow.”

“Oh, Christ,” Matt said, unpacking his knives. “Of course it is. What should I jump on?”

“Butcher the filets, please,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’ll be mince mbeat if I try to do themb like this.”

“On it,” Matt said, putting his bag under the table. “You take anything for that?” he asked.

Greyson shook his head. “Ndo timbe. I’ve beend prepping since literally the mboment I walked in.” He started coughing again and Matt raised his eyebrows before striding into the server’s station. He returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup and a handful of pills.

“That’s what the servers have; not sure what they all are but it couldn’t hurt to just take them all,” Matt said, handing them and the cup of tea over to his boss. Greyson choked out a laugh.

“I feel like if anything could hurt it’s taking a savage handful of mbystery pills,” he said, tossing them all into his mouth and swallowing with a mouthful of tea. “But I’mb ndot too proud to admit when I’m desperate.”

“Chef!” Elijah called suddenly, bursting through the kitchen doors, obviously on a mission. “The people from the winery are here. Can you break away for a bit?”

Matt raised an eyebrow at Greyson, who just sighed in return. He turned towards Elijah, who was once again texting someone fervently. “Yeah boss, coming,” he said. When Elijah breezed through the doors into the dining room, Greyson turned back to his sous.

“Hold down the fort for mbe?” he asked. Matt huffed out an amused laugh.

“Sure thing, chef. Good luck, uh, tasting wine.”

“‘Tasting’ will be a strong word for it,” Greyson mumbled, untying his apron and pushing through the kitchen door.  

Seated at the corner table was Elijah, a man and woman who looked to be a couple, and about thirty bottles of wine. Greyson’s head pounded at the sight of it, but he took his seat next to Elijah all the same.

“There he is, the man of the hour!” Elijah clapped Greyson on the back as he sat down, and Greyson nodded toward their guests.

“A pleasure,” he said, his voice gravelly. He cleared his throat and asked, “What’re we drinking?”

***

Greyson looked down at his watch for about the tenth time since they had sat down an hour ago. Elijah, taking notice of at least one thing about Greyson, nudged him toward the kitchen.

“Alright, Chef, thanks for your input,” Elijah said, then regarded the winemakers. “He has a big night tonight. Back to the grind, right, Chef?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, pushing back from his seat. “Thangks, guys. Great wine. Hopefully we can make sombething work out.”

The winemakers smiled back at him easily; the woman of the couple held her glass up as if to toast Greyson. “Cheers, Chef. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”

Greyson colored, and Elijah whipped towards the chef, confused, but neither of them seemed to dissuade the woman’s partner from tacking on his own sympathies. “That sounds like one hell of a cold.”

Greyson meant to deny their accusation, or at least thank them for their kindness, but was rudely interrupted by his nose. “I – HNGSTHH-uhhnn. GTSHH! HehhITSZCHUE! Snrf.” Greyson coughed a little, if only to clear his throat, and shrugged sheepishly.

“Safe travels back,” he said in return, and headed back towards the kitchen.

Once inside, Greyson ducked into his and Elijah’s office and slammed the door shut. He’d done his damnedest to keep his symptoms under control around their guests, but now the floodgates had opened he really fucking needed to – to…

“HNGSTHH-ue! HTSZCH-ue! Huhh...nggg. Huh, huhhhHHHHUHESTZCCHUE! ETSHCCHUE! GTSCHZUE! Fuckigg – HTSHHCHUE!”

Greyson pulled a few tissues out of the box on their desk and blew his nose, thoroughly spent. This is hell, he thought, putting his head in his hands. I’ve died and gone straight to fucking hell.

He considered maybe just crawling under the desk right then and there, cocooning until he was no longer the walking plague, when someone quietly rapped on the door.

Go away, Greyson thought, but whoever it was opened the door before he could say anything. When he looked up, Elijah was standing over him, a look of confused worry on his face.

“Um,” he said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “Are you...ok?”

Greyson felt his face flame once again, his embarrassment near-palpable. Was he okay? Did he look okay? Did he sound okay? For the first time all day, Greyson felt something other than the depth of his illness; he felt livid.

“Yeah, boss,” he snorted, making himself cough hard into his arm. He sucked in through his nose and stood to tower over Elijah, his watering eyes glaring daggers. “I’mb great.”

Greyson pushed past his boss, threw open the door, and headed straight into the deep frezzer to take some breaths and collect himself. The frigid air was a slap in the face, and it gave him the clarity he needed. He may not even be a blip on his boss’s radar; that was fine. He would work even harder, then – make his name even quicker and get the hell out of Elliot’s as soon as was humanly possible. Get the fuck away from this restaurant and its haughty, clueless, thoughtless owner.

The chef pulled himself together as much as he could and stepped out of the freezer. Elijah was, of course, standing right outside the walk-in.

“Chef,” he said quickly, clearly attempting to get his point across before Greyson pushed past him again. “You could’ve told me if you’re sick – I mean, I could’ve called in backup, or closed reservations…” he looked up at Greyson then, apology plastered all over his face. Greyson wasn’t taking the bait.

“Too late ndow,” he mumbled, checking his watch. “Service starts in an hour. Please; I dond’t have timbe for this.”

Once again, Greyson pushed past his boss. He made his way back to the prep table and picked his knife up, before regarding Matt.

“Tell mbe what you ndeed from mbe.”

***

Service was, to put it lightly, hell.

The forty top had gone fine, as well as could’ve been expected, and fortunately there weren’t any problems or send-backs, but Greyson was in absolute agony the entire time. He couldn’t breathe, his voice was mangled from shouting orders, and he was pretty sure he’d infected his entire staff with the insane amount of sneezing he’d done.

The moment the last ticket was stabbed, Greyson put a hand on Matt’s back and said, “You’re up. I ndeed to sit down like...now.”

Matt nodded in understanding and stepped up to the line to make sure the cooks started breaking everything down. Greyson, alternatively, tripped into the office and immediately put his throbbing head into his hands and let loose the coughing fit he’d held back the last four hours.

In the midst of coughing, Greyson heard someone quietly enter the office and sit in the chair next to him. Then he heard something else; a paper cup being placed on the desk next to him. Greyson looked up to see Elijah sitting beside him, quiet. Greyson sighed.

“I’ll pack mby shidt,” he said, rubbing an aching eye with his palm. “I’mb sure you already have sombeone lined up, but I’d be happy to spend a day just showing themb the ropes or whatev -”

Greyson was cut up by his boss reaching up mid-sentence and placing a cool hand on his forehead. Greyson couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes in relief.

“You’re burning up, Greyson,” Elijah said quietly. “Have you had a fever all day?”

The chef wasn’t sure what to say. He shrugged. “I guess,” he said quietly, his boss’s hand still on his forehead. Elijah pursed his lips and took his hand away. Unsure what to do with it, he pushed the cup closer to Greyson.

“Tea,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. Greyson couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Okay,” he said, taking the cup. They both sat in silence for another moment, which was only broken by Greyson’s breath hitching for the millionth time that day. “Huhh..hhhNGTSHH-ue! Guhhh.” Greyson grabbed the last couple of tissues out of the box and blew his nose, miserably.

“Bless you,” Elijah said, clearly still unsure what else to say.

“Thangks,” Greyson said, crumpling the tissue and looking back at his boss. “So...am I ndot fired then?”

Elijah chuckled and looked up at Greyson again. “You’re not fired.”

“Okay,” Greyson said again.

After another beat, Elijah blurted out, “I’m sorry. Greyson, I’m really, really sorry.”

Greyson wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Umb,” he said, brilliantly. “Okay.”

“Sometimes I’m just, like, in my own world, y’know? The restaurant...it’s all-consuming, man. I’m always fuckin’ worried about it, and it just gets exhausting. I wish I had more patience and was, like, more...observant. But,” he shrugged. “I’m just...not. So I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.” Elijah sighed, post-speech, and gave Greyson a small smile. “And I’m sorry you’re so fucking sick. You look like hell.”

Greyson set his jaw then, and looked down. He was absolutely not about to let his boss see him tear up, especially not at something so fucking stupid. Instead, he took the cup of tea and sipped it slowly. “I appreciate it, boss,” he whispered. “I’mb, uh… I’mb ndot feeling awesome.” He looked up, having composed himself, and gave Elijah a loopy half-smile. “Long day. Late ndight.”

Elijah smiled back and patted the chef’s knee. “Take the weekend. Okay?”

Greyson swallowed painfully and nodded. “Okay, boss,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

[shysublimecoffee]

It’s peak Naruto ranting hours right now for me so if you don't like this post ignore it.

Man, if it were any other protagonist confronting Sasuke, they’d handle it way better. Half of them wouldn’t even care about his whole revenge agenda—they’d either let him go either seeing it being reasonable or straight-up join him. Unlike Naruto, with his stupidass toxic obsession and then further tied this grieving man down to his village soil the one where his dead relatives blood remain hidden and out of sight from the supposed heroes of this serious. Lmao.

Sasuke’s walking down this lonely, dark path, and somehow, he’s the unreasonable one for going after the people who put him there? Like, bitch, I’d be pissed too. Did everyone forget this series isn’t sunshine and rainbows? They’re all criminals with fancy titles slapped on to make them look “noble.” Morals? Nah, they checked out a long time ago.

How dare he not smile and forgive everyone like this is some fluffy, feel-good fairytale? Clearly, he should’ve just stayed on his lonely, trauma-filled path and been grateful for the pain Itachi put him through, right? And let’s not forget, everyone else in the series is such a pillar of morality. Just a bunch of criminals with sparkly titles to make them seem “heroic.” But sure, let’s all clutch our pearls and pretend this world runs on sunshine and good vibes when this is a ninja world with every ninja even 12 year olds having bodycounts. 🙄

This series loves slapping the "hero" label on the main cast, but let’s be real—they’re not. Their crimes just happen to be in service of the world’s most powerful military complex. Meanwhile, anyone who dares to oppose the system? Oh, they’re instantly branded as terrorists and missing-nin, because heaven forbid someone questions the status quo.

But sure, let’s keep pretending the heroes are all about justice and peace when they’re just enforcing the same corrupt system that got us here in the first place.

Like, yeah, the Narutoverse is a garbage fire of a world to live in, but if even the MC, with all his "believe it!" energy, can’t change anything meaningful, then what was the point? Dude’s out here chasing his dream, just to end up wearing that goofy hat, symbolizing a legacy of violence and bloodshed.

Congratulations, Naruto, you’re now the face of the same system that ruined everyone’s lives. Big W for the cycle of oppression, I guess.

Naruto ended up as a tool of the system, reinforcing its rules under the guise of “justice” or “peace.” Its crazy how I fw more with Sasuke as an adult when I hated him as a kid lol

[sunny-reis]

hi! can i request akito shinonome x reader where they get into an argument? maybe it takes them a few days to make up because akito is stubborn and reader is a bit shy and overthinks like "what if he doesnt want me anymore" or whatever. oneshot please..! thank you, and have a nice day!! dont write if you dont wanna :)

oneshot - post-argument tension w/ akito

i wish i never ever told you all about it, but i just had to let you know; never meant to hurt you, tho

notes: pjsk req woohoo 🤠 i'm not sure if you wanted them to make up after the whump so ,.,,.,. we ball lmao

tags: gender-neutral reader, you're friends with ena, an, and kohane

word count: 1,987

thirteen hours and twenty-six minutes.

that’s how long you’ve gone without hearing the familiar ding! of a message from akito. it’s almost half past nine now, you note, double-checking the small alarm clock on the side table by your bed. it's been more than half a day since you’ve talked to the redheaded idiot you call a boyfriend, and you can't help but be pissed (and worried sick, but you're too angry to think about that right now. he doesn't deserve my worry, you think).

it all started late yesterday, when he was supposed to come over to your place after his afternoon dance practice – the two of you had made plans to visit a cute new bakery opening on main street. needless to say, he completely ignored your texts and calls, replying hours later with a simple “sorry, i forgot. catch up with you later.” being human, you replied with a series of passive-aggressive texts, inevitably leading to an explosive argument. you sat on the couch for what felt like hours after, kicking around the stupid cow plushie he won you at a summer fair now on the ground. how hard is it to call ahead? or keep a stupid promise?

and so, here you are, listening to music in bed and staring emptily at the ceiling. a single thought floats around in your head: what the hell’s up with akito? he’s never been the type to be dry, not even on the numerous times when he's been frustrated out of his mind with schoolwork, or fed up with family politics and his dad. the night goes by slowly, and after far too much moping, you huff and sit up against the headboard. pausing your music, you open the messages app to (wishfully) check for a text from akito, only to be met with the same “hey aki, call me when you're free” you sent hours ago. sighing, you text the one person you think would know where he is: ena.

you - 10:32

hey ena !

is aki home? he won't reply to me

minutes later, a message bubble pops up.

enanan - 10:37

umm yeah

but he looked pretty tired when he came home an hour ago

you bite your nail, a force of habit; akito’s dance practice ends at 3:20 at the very latest. what on earth has he been doing for the past six hours?

you - 10:38

oh okay ;-;

ena - 10:38

did he say something to you?

i’ll kick his ass if he did something stupid

just say the word !!

you let out a small laugh, wrapping the covers tighter around yourself. count it on ena to keep him straight.

you - 10:39

nonono i was just overthinking !

poor guy’s probably exhausted :(

ena - 10:40

probably

get some rest though !! no man’s worth losing sleep over

you - 10:40

yeahhh i probably should

you too !!

ena - 10:41

eh i’ll try

night y/n :)

you - 10:41

nighttt

unfaithful to your words, you do not get some rest. instead, you spend far more time than you should mindlessly scrolling through anything and everything you can find on your phone to distract yourself from your thoughts, somehow ending up playing through a particularly spicy story on episode at two am. looking up from the dim screen, you sigh. ena’s right - no man’s worth losing sleep over. tapping furiously through the rest of the episode, you toss your phone under the pillow next to you and shut your eyes, trying to sleep.

although you managed to get a good six hours of sleep, you find your eyes shooting awake at 8:37 am. although it's the weekend, a sunday, you've become accustomed to waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to get ready. sitting up and stretching, you quietly pad down to the bathroom to fix yourself, being rid of last night's woes.

after a small breakfast of cereal and orange juice, you make a list of everything you plan to do today; an, a member of akito’s dance group and one of your closest friends, proposed you, ena, and kohane go out for lunch at one of the numerous cafes on main street. going outside definitely sounds better than sitting at home and sulking, so you set off to the cafe an send the address to at noon.

a little bell chimes as you open the door, instantly hit by the sweet aroma of various pastries on display. you see everything, from blueberry muffins to finely decorated cakes; your wallet feels lighter at the sight of them. making your way over to a table in the secluded corner where an waves at you, signature smile plastered on your face, you sit down on the booth. next to you sits ena, and across, an and kohane.

“hey, y/n, good to see you!” says ena, followed by a small wave from kohane.

“hello hello! i haven't seen you in a while, kohane, how’s everything going?” you ask, setting your bag down next to you.

“sorry,” she replies sheepishly, “we've been so busy with practice and school, i barely get the energy to catch up!”

“aw,” you frown, once again thinking about akito, “don't tire yourself out too much.”

“ah, it's only for a little bit! once we finish nail last routine, we’ll be done with practice and ready to perform!” an laughs; kohane only sighs.

“yeah, but it's so hard…toya and akito have been cooped up at the studio for ages, now. if it’s hard for them, imagine how hard it is for me!”

“hey, don't sell yourself short, kohane! i’ve seen the way you dance, you make it look so easy!” says ena, taking a sip of the her coffee. you nod in agreement.

“trust me, whatever you're doing is working! aki’s tried teaching me some moves – let's just say it didn't end well.” the four of you chatter away giddily until a waiter brings over a fancy rack of desserts to sample, courtesy of an. there are a humble few slices of cake, and far too many small treats you don't know the name of.

“wow, an, you sure have a keen eye for desserts!” says ena, happily finishing her coffee with a cat-shaped cookie.

“of course i do, i haven't been working at a cafe for nothing!”

“oh, you!”

a little while after you all finish, you say your goodbyes to an and kohane, leaving you an ena at scramble crossing.

“so…do you wanna walk around, or go back home? i have some time to kill.” she asks, the two of you crossing the road as the cars come to a halt.

“i’m fine with walking, i don't really have anything to do at home.” you shrug, checking your watch. it’s only 2:45 and the only thing waiting for you at home is a full washing machine, so you opt to wander around the city with ena.

somewhere around the local playground, the two of you have a heart-to-heart on the far-too-small swings.

“has everything been okay with you and akito?” she asks, leaning against the chain, “i feel like something’s up. you can talk to me about it if you want.” you sigh.

“well…kind of? i think he's been ignoring me and i’m really worried. i don't think i did anything to upset him, and he’s been really exhausted lately.”

“oh, yeah, he's been coming home later too. i don't blame him, really. i guess perfectionism is a family disease.”

“definitely,” you shake your head, “i'm not angry at him at all, but i feel…hurt.” she sits up alertly.

“why? did he say something?”

“no, no, that's the problem! he missed our date the other day, but he said sorry and we fought over text. i feel so bad, but i know i’m not being irrational, and he's ghosting me! we’ve fought before, but what if this is it?” ena mumbles under her breath, something about a “stupid kid”.

“you both really are perfect for each other, you know that?” you tilt your head in confusion.

“how so?”

“you're both so hard-headed,” she laughs, “and stupid, sometimes. although that's more him than you.”

“i guess so.”

“but seriously, let me talk to him at home. maybe then he’ll get the balls to apologize and it’ll all be okay again.”

“you don't need to get tangled up in this mess, ena, don't worry-”

“oh, shut up! no man is worth lowering your standards for, that applies to him, too! maybe it’ll do you both some good, too.”

“you're the best, really.” you say, squeezing her hand.

“oh, i know.” ena flounces; you laugh, getting off the swing and brushing the sand off your lap. the walk to your house is short, or so you assure ena, but she walks back with you anyways.

“don't worry about akito, okay? i’ll handle him.” she says, walking down the steps to your house. you nod, waving at her as she leaves. deep down, the two of you know that won't be happening – worrying about akito is a part of the package, so you’ve come to realize.

you decide to spend the rest of the day lazing around on the couch, snacking on popcorn as you binge chick flicks. as you subconsciously replay the events of the past two days in the back of your mind, the guilt settles in. you sit up, checking your phone for any messages and signs of life from akito, and flinching at the sudden brightness. looking around, the state of the living room is as pathetic as you feel. there are popcorn kernels where you tried (and failed) to throw them in the small trash can, pillows strewn all over the floor, blankets folded messily, each mess driving you crazier by the minute. pausing the movie, you sigh, getting up to clean whatever you see. although you still feel like garbage mentally, seeing the room decently clean makes you feel slightly better.

before you realize it, you're yawning and no longer paying attention to mean girls playing on the laptop in bed. sitting up and stretching, you set it on the nightstand, wrap yourself up in a blanket cocoon, and begin to fall asleep.

you're woken out of your peaceful slumber by the abrupt ring of the doorbell. rubbing your eyes, you pad to the front door, opening it to see none other than-

“aki? what are you doing here, it’s the middle of the night?” he’s drenched, clearly having walked here in the ongoing downpour behind him. how cliché. you let him in, helping him feel off his jacket and fetching him a towel.

“so, are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” you ask, sitting down next to him on the couch. he looks down at his feet.

“yeah, we probably should.”

“speak your peace, then, i’m listening.”

“well…i’m sorry i've been an ass,” akiro sighs, “everything’s been so overwhelming lately.”

“i’m sorry, too. i shouldn’t have been so passive-aggressive, it clearly only made things worse.” he shakes his head.

“no, i get it. i was in the wrong and i lashed out at you for no reason. i missed our date, too! i’ve been really shitty to you, you don't deserve any of that.”

“i understand why it happened, aki,” you say, giving him a small smile and grasping his hand in yours, “you can talk to me when things get rough, though, you know what.”

“i know, i know, and i'm sorry.”

“no use dwelling on the past now, i guess, yeah?”

akito nods, laying down on your lap; you play with his hair absentmindedly, listening to him mumble about his week. the weight on your chest is lifted just by the sight of him opening up to you again, and you feel much better.

“hey, aki, promise me something.”

“hm?”

“don't ghost me again, or i’ll kick your ass.”

[your-highnessmarvel]

cotton candy | s.riley

CHAPTER SIX

Pairing: Simon Riley aka Ghost x Original female character

Warnings: SMUT. DUB-CON. MATURE THEMES

Chapter Summary: Laura’s training takes a dangerous turn.

A/N: Woooza. We’re already here! I think this is what some of you have been waiting for!!!

Masterlist

Taglist: Open

Will be posting on AO3. IF ONLY I CAN FIGURE OUT HOW IT WORKS LMAO.

Chapter six

Ghost could still remember the taste of her lingering on his lips after that night. That sweet, sickly taste of candy, smudged onto the cherry red of his lips ever since. Even if it had been more than a day, a full turn of the clock, Ghost could still taste that phantom candy on his tongue.

She’d stopped even looking at him. He could tell she was furious by the muscle ticking in her jaw or her knuckles turning bone-white whenever he spoke or passed by her or entered a room. Ghost could almost feel the rage coming from her skin, but it only served as fuel for his ever growing obsession.

He’d never been obsessed in his life. For him, things were like wind, coming and going and never to be seen again. The army had taken the possibility of permanence from him a long time ago, and the soldier in him was taught never to form attachments. And so in his entire career, Ghost had served as pawn, jester, and queen, but he’d never stayed on the same board. Always moving. Always leaving something - or someone - behind and training his memory never to cling to anything.

Because the worse thing a soldier could carry was memories. 

Laura had been moved from Sergeant Combs’s training to some sort of half-assed private hour with Soap, while Gaz and Alejandro worked recon and organization for their little coup. And although it had been Ghost’s idea, he was not even on the training mat with her.

Soap was trying to teach her how to come out of a backwards hold, the one Ghost had trapped her in last night. 

Johnny, even as trained and disciplined as he was, was not immune to Laura’s tempestuous attitude. 

“If you’re holding onto me like a fucking maniac, how the hell am I supposed to even get out?” It was a shriek, basically, and her voice broke off at the end. 

She had trouble catching her breath, chest heaving against Soap’s arms, neck glistening with sweat. Flyaway hairs from her bun kept getting into her eyes, where a subtle smudge of blue bruised the underside. She had not slept well - if at all - last night.  

Ghost crossed his arms, cocked his head. “She usually doesn’t fight fair,” he offered, watching both Soap and Laura’s head twist his way. “She’ll go for your balls next.”

Soap’s face fell.

“Or bite your wrist until you’re bleeding,” Ghost continued. Laura’s eyebrows knitted together, creasing the skin in between. 

She puckered her lips and tried to swing her body forward, but Soap was strong and just pulled back. 

Ghost sighed, uncrossing his arms and walking to where the pair stood on the mat. The training gym was almost empty, and Laura’s pants and Soap’s quiet curses almost echoed through the space. 

He stood in front of her, watching her midnight eyes shift upwards and upwards, staring at him from under her brows. A quiet rage flamed behind her glare.

“Here,” he said, pointing to her hands. “You’re not using them.”

Her face pulled back, resisting the urge to either curse him or bite one of his eyes out. “He’s impossibly stronger, Ghost,” she said, gritting her teeth, the words almost hissing passed her lips. 

He shrugged. “You have more strength than you think.” Then he tapped Soap’s arms, loosening his grip, and gingerly took her wrists in his hands. “When someone’s got you in a hold like this, first thing’s first, you get into this position.” He placed her arms so they formed an X across her chest. 

“Now use your body weight,” Soap instructed, resuming his vice-like hold around her torso. The way he pressed his arms against her own made her breasts lump upwards, visible over the small cleavage of her tank top. 

Ghost swallowed and stepped back, his fingers itching. His gloves, he realized, had saved him from the intensity of skin-to-skin with her. The intoxication of feeling her flesh, warm and delicate against his, was a memory sticking to every corner of his skull. 

She tried forcing her way out, but she wasn’t trying hard enough. 

Ghost shook his head. “Get on with it,” he drawled. “Fight him!”

“Come on, pumpkin, let’s go,” Soap encouraged, voice rough, the little nickname frying every nerve in Ghost’s brain. “Pitch forward, use your body weight and your arms.”

She threw herself forward, hesitantly at first, and then again, and again, until Soap’s grip faltered, hands sliding on his forearms, and that fourth pitch made his entire frame crumble forward. The girl was released and she tumbled forward, losing balance and stumbling into Ghost.

He caught her easily, hands on her shoulders, and she peered up, cheeks hot. Her gaze immediately shifting from his, avoiding the mask, the smell clawing into her nose, the warmth of his body so close. The softness of his hoodie - and the way it clung to his wide shoulders. The way his trousers hung loose but fitted and made him look unbreakable.

She jerked from him like he was a flame. 

“Again,” she said, voice echoing. 

Soap nodded, smiling. He liked seeing her succeed. 

Although being in close quarters with Laura was like standing too close to a burning fire while the first layer of your skin roasted, Ghost liked seeing her progress. She was - sort of - positive about her mistakes, but she was a quick learner, and she was avid to learn as much as she could from “army pros”, as she called them. 

Soap was taking a break while Ghost was teaching her quick jabs for self-defence. 

At this point, the front of her tank was soaked and her hair had fallen from a tight bun to a mess at the base of her neck, but she kept going. From Ghost’s vantage point, he could see her cleavage, and his mouth watered, that phantom candy taste flooding his senses. Her shoulders, her collarbone, her throat, all on display for him. Her soft skin, glistening gently with a fine coat of sweat. The way her shorts clung to the curve of her hip, her ass, the dip at the base of her spine. 

She was a four course meal on a platter - and damn Soap for being here. 

Ghost wondered if Soap was thinking the same thing. If the Sergeant was fighting the urge to push her down onto that mat and make every nerve in her body sing for him. 

Was he thinking about tugging her shirt over her breasts, kneading them into his hands, feeling the warmth of her skin? The beat of her heart? Having her mouth on his, tongue sliding against his, moaning his name and curving her spine into his body? 

Was Soap imagining what she’d look like, flushed, horny, begging?

“What’s so fun about being in the army anyway?” she asked, throwing the blunt side of her palm up, towards Ghost’s nose. 

He dodged, caught her wrist, and nodded. “Faster.” A gulp caught in his throat and he grunted to clear it. 

She was so fucking intoxicating.

“Sometimes it’s just the awesomeness of doing highly dangerous and borderline chaotic missions,” Soap called from the sidelines, nursing a water bottle. “Sometimes it’s because I sucked at school and enrolled when my frontal lobe hadn’t fully developed yet and now I’m stuck doing it.”

Laura stopped mid swing, turning to face the Sergeant. “Soap, that’s depressing,” she said, turning back to Ghost. She tried throwing two fingers at his throat, but he slapped her hand away. “What about you?” she asked, voice tentative. 

“Long story,” he answered bluntly. 

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, taking a breather. “Well, last time I check, Mr I’m-so-mysterious,” she panted. “I’ve basically got a lot of time on my hands.”

Something dark crawled across her face and sank deep in her eyes, but Ghost chose to ignore it. 

“What do you do for a living anyway?” he asked. 

Surprise etched across her features, burning away the obscure expression that had pinned onto her face. “I just graduated from my Master’s degree in Classics,” she said. “I - well - I wanted to be either a writer or a historian.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Always thought I’d do something I liked.”

“And classics,” he answered, tasting that word differently now, “that’s your choice?”

She frowned. “You’re the one un-aliving people for a living,” she accused. “Don’t judge my career choice when you probably got into this because you don’t know what algebra means.”

“Still don’t,” he answered. 

Soap laughed. “He’s good at math, Laura,” he assured. “He just sucks at being... human.”

She smiled and tried to join in Soap’s foolishness, but Ghost could tell she took that differently. After all, she knew about Ghost’s little... obsession. 

She jerked her chin at Ghost. “Again,” she said. 

She wasn’t able to land a single punch, jab, or kick at him, but she was getting more precise in her aim though. 

***

There was something erotic about being alone with two men while they both tried to teach you self defence. There was an art to it; one of their hands on my sternum, the other one’s thumb tracing circles into my thigh. There was a certain air, like thick, thick honey, dripping between the three of us, as Soap’s fingers closed around the back of my neck, Ghost’s grip tightening on my knee.

I never knew that I was into this, never even thought that it would have ever crossed my mind to think about both of them this way. Even their breaths, deep and panting, echoing in the emptiness of the gym, their mouths so close to my ear at times... it was frightening. 

This situation could turn south very quickly. 

Thank God Soap put an end to it. 

“Alright, Laura,” he said, getting up from his position, panting, sweat dripping down the back of his tan neck. He’d been kneeling, my head on the mat between his legs. Ghost was still trying to arrange my legs around his head and shoulders, a hold he said could outright kill someone. 

“I think we’ve had enough of this,” Soap was saying, walking to where his water bottle was. “Three hours, whew!” 

I felt heat creep into my cheeks when Ghosts hands unhooked my legs from his shoulders, thumbs sliding under my knees, parting them so he could fit through. He was so large, and I was left on my back, looking at the ceiling, praying my embarrassment wasn’t written clearly on my face for the world to see. 

His thumb lingered, tracing fine circles from my knee to my thigh and back. I swallowed thickly, jerking my head to the side, wondering if Soap was watching, but he was guzzling down more water than a sponge absorbing in a bath. 

I whimpered lowly, trying to get the image of last night out of my head, of my clear rage at him, of the hurt bubbling in me and the obvious disinterest written in his eyes. Oh, how I’d wanted to see his face, but then he’d pulled up his mask and exposed such a beautiful mouth to me. With crinkles and dimples on his cheeks as he leaned in - when he hadn’t taken “no” for an answer. When he’d drawn out this feeling in me, this magnetic lust that had made me search his thigh for friction. 

Why was he doing this to me?

He got up, offering his hand and I took it, getting to my feet. I had to pretend to yawn to wash out the goosebumps on my skin, this shivering climbing up my spine. 

It was angering how easy he could pull my stitches and tear me to pieces, and then get up and walk away as if he hadn’t. It was so fucking infuriating that he could do that - look at me as if I was just a boring equation on a board, and then walk away, clap Soap on the back, and saunter out, his shoulders swinging. 

I wrinkled my nose. 

“He’s such an asshole,” I mumbled. 

“What’s that?” Soap asked, turning to me, spraying water into his mouth. 

I rolled my eyes, reaching up to tighten my bun. “Nothing.”

“Who’s an asshole?”

“I thought you didn’t hear what I said.”

“I did, I was just confirming.”

“Then say that.”

Soap sighed. “What’s up your ass, pumpkin?”

I sighed, walking off the mat with as much anger as I could. Soap watched me, big brown eyes innocent. 

“Ghost can be...” I trailed off, picking up my hand towel and wiping the back of my neck. “Ghost can be so fucking... Sometimes I just wanna...”

I threw the towel, grunting, watching it flutter to the ground with none of the rage I threw it with.

“Fuck him,” I groaned.

“You just wanna fuck him?” Soap asked, genuinely confused. 

I stopped, heat crawling up to my ears, and I whirled on Soap. “No, n-no, obviously no, that’s not what I was saying, I-”

He cut me off. “I mean, he could use it,” he said, matter-of-fact, turning to pick up his towel nonchalantly. “Could take the stick out of his ass.”

“Soap.” My voice echoed, strong and loud, across the gym. “No, I won’t do that.”

Soap shrugged. “You could use it too, you know.” He faced her, grinning. “You’ve been kind of... bitchy?”

I bundled my towel up and threw it at him. “Fuck you!”

“Please,” he said, laughing, catching my gross towel in his hand easily. “I’d love to!”

“You’re being such a pre-teen right now, Head n Shoulders.”

He groaned, following me as we made our way out into the blistering heat, the horizon shimmering from it. We made our way back to the RV, where I was fully expecting to find Ghost’s brooding self pestering me further, but when we walked into the RV, only Alejandro was there.

“Hey, princessa!” he exclaimed, looking up from what looked like a very boring game of cards. By himself?

I smiled at him, genuinely happy to see him because he was probably the only one here that I really liked. “Hey,” I said.

“How was training?” he asked. 

I nodded, swallowed, looked back as Soap climbed into the RV and closed the door, locking the heat outside. 

“It was good,” I said, making my way to the back to pick up my towel. Someone was in the bathroom taking a shower, probably Ghost, so I thought maybe I could use the communal showers at the gym.

“Where’s Ghost?” Alejandro asked and I smiled sarcastically. Nice one, trying to get me to believe he wasn’t in the shower right now. 

I blew passed Soap and Ale, who both exchanged a glance as I all but stormed out the RV. 

There was definitely something up with me. I could feel myself getting angrier and angrier as I thought about last night, about today’s training. Last night, when Ghost so easily tore all my seams apart and kept digging, despite my resistance. And today, still playing his game, pretending he cared and pulling fire from my veins, and then sauntering off. 

I hated him. 

I decided that. 

I got back into the gym and made my way to the showers. I was so caught up in my own head, the rage throwing itself against every part of me, that I didn’t notice the sound of a shower already on.

And I stopped dead in my tracks.

Because right there, under a stream of hot, steaming water was him. Ghost, without his mask, his back glistening with water. And it went down, down, down his naked form, and my eyes followed, until I saw almost every inch of him.

He had blonde hair. This asshole, who wore a mask and glared at me through impossibly dark eyes and could cull my body into absolute pudding, was blonde. 

I backed up, but my shoe squeaked, and it was remarkable that he hadn’t already heard me because he’s such a professional assassin. His head cocked, and then moved slightly to the side, but his right shoulder lifted, tensed, and when he looked at me over his shoulder, I could just make out his eye.

Fuck.

I slipped trying to turn, landing knees-first into the damp tiled floor and then scrambling onto my feet. I heard water sloshing behind me, but I gripped the side of the bathroom wall and propelled myself towards the exit. 

My entire being was on fire, flames licking up my spine and crawling up my face, my vision burning the closer I got to the gym’s exit. But I was slow, my breath forcing its way passed my throat, my lips, until I was mere inches away from the door. Where I could get fresh air not clogged with the image of his back - as if cut from glass, majestic, muscular, tanned. 

But my fingers barely grazed the door’s push handle that I was swept off my feet, wetness and heat pressing at my back, a humid hand covering my scream.

There was a strong arm around my waist, pulling me up and off my feet, carrying me away from the door.

I screamed against the hand on my mouth, but the hot chest at my back, wetting through my tank top, just chuckled.

“Easy there, dove,” Ghost mumbled, backing us up into the bathroom. “Just want some privacy.”

I groaned against his hand, nails biting half moons into his forearm. Miraculously, I still had my towel. 

He put me down against the same damp floor of the bathroom, and I pushed away from him, hand against the wall before me. His shower was still on. 

“Oh, my... are you...?” I refused to look back and have him fully naked. 

“So glad to know you care so much about my privacy,” he shot back. “Especially since you walked in on me naked.”

“I didn’t know you were in here!” I exclaimed, still not turning. I could feel him inches away from me, from where I was hiding my flaming face against the wall. 

“I’ll pretend to believe that,” he answered, and this time, his mouth was at my ear and I could feel the damp material of his mask. I looked at him from my peripheral, and saw the mask and lower, the boxer briefs. I snapped my eyes back to the wall, not lingering on the water drops clinging to his chest, dipping into the few scars darkening the skin around his abdomen. “Like what you see?” he asked, voice lowering. 

I gulped. “I’d rather not see,” I snapped back. 

“I can arrange that,” he said. 

Quickly, almost like magic, he all but ripped my tank top from me, my arms flopping back down against my sides. “Hey!”

But he ignored me and even when I whipped around and tried to snap the shirt from him, he just backed away and folded it neatly. 

He was... he was something to look at. All sharp angles and round, large shoulders and rippling muscles that shone with the water still clinging to his skin.

He held the fabric of my shirt, staring at me, and suddenly, I felt self-conscious, covering my bra with my hands.  

He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “None of that,” he drawled, stepping closer, until he could grab my wrists and pry them apart. He put a hand under my chin, dragging my gaze to his. 

The dark chaol that usually spread across his eyes had been washed away, clearing his gaze and illuminating his eyes. They were blue. He bent down at eye level with me, the difference between our sizes now oh so evident. 

“Now,” he said lowly, voice rough, “you prefer to be blinded, yes?”

I frowned. 

He slowly reached up and lay the fabric of my tank top over my eyes, tying it behind my head. 

I grasped onto his forearms as they came back down, my skin bubbling with goosebumps, shivers racing down my spine. He chuckled, and I heard the rustling of fabric and realized very quickly that he’d taken off his mask because his lips were grazing mine and my entire body went from damp cold to raging fire in an instant. 

Shit.

His hands, now warm and damp and on fire slid around my naked waist, lighting me from the inside out. My own found their way onto his shoulders for support and he lifted me, one hand directing my thighs around his waist. 

“Ghost, I - “

He turned, silencing me in, walking us closer to the sound of water rushing out. I tensed in his arms, thighs squeezing around his waist.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he said, lips at my collar bone, and when he set me on my feet, I felt him get to his knees. He took my shoes off, my socks, and when his fingers inched into the band of my shorts, I pushed at his shoulders. 

“Ghost, no.”

There was a pause and I wished I could see him, but my own shoulders were tense, afraid of what this man could make do because fuck, just the graze of his thumb down my thigh, towards my knee was making me shake. 

He left my shorts alone. I stood there, breathing, a hot spray of water massaging my back until his hands cupped my face and he brought his mouth down on mine. 

I’d been kissed before. A few times, but not a lot, ultimately. But this... this was like being eaten alive, having his tongue graze my lower lip, his mouth never letting mine catch a breath. He was angling my head as he wanted, taking my mouth how he wanted, and the guttural noise that came from his throat set my entire being on edge. 

I couldn’t stop this. I wouldn’t come back from this. 

Abruptly, I was turned, and I wanted to rip my blindfold off but his hand rested on my tummy, right above the waistband of my shorts, while the other arm snaked across my torso. I was beginning to think my nails would break from how hard I was digging them into his forearms. 

Water was dripping down my front, watering my shorts, and I squeezed my thighs together as his entire form was pressed flush against my back. I could feel him, hard, at the base of my spine. 

Oh.

His mouth pressed against my shoulder, kissing and nipping up to my neck, and I swear it was to distract me because when had his hand traveled so much lower, his middle finger inching into my shorts?

He bit down, hard, on my shoulder, and pain spread wildly up my neck, down my arm. I gasped, pushing away from him, but he groaned, the hand on my belly pulling me right back against him. 

He pulled his teeth from my skin, lips grazing up to my ear. “Stay,” he ordered, and I could feel the command deep in my bones. 

“Ghost, I’ve ne-”

“Simon.”

I was trembling. 

“What?”

“My name is Simon,” he groaned, his hips bucking into me gently. “Say it.”

He nuzzled against my neck, his right hand inching higher to grasp firmly against my breast, his left hand lowering completely into my undies. He squeezed my breast painfully, kissing into my neck, rutting into me from behind, and when his left hand finally breached and found what it was looking for, I arched into him and his name just tumbled from my lips like a prayer. 

“That’s it,” he drawled, middle finger rubbing slow, tantalizing circles on my clit. “Much better.”

My knees buckled but he held me, slowly circling my clit, my head lolling back onto his chest. I could feel every nerve buzzing with pleasure, from the heat of his fingers on me, from the hand playing lazily with my nipple, to the warm hardness at my back. It was slowly driving me insane. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispered into my ear, adding his forefinger to the mix, circling just a little harder, just a little faster. I ground my hips against his hand, searching, demanding more friction. God, this was insane. “Is this what you wanted, little dove?” he repeated. 

I gasped, holding back a moan when he pressed harder, targeting just the right spot. I was blindfolded, but my vision was still blurring and when his middle finger ventured down to test my hole, the whimper that left me was all but wretched. 

“All this for me, my love?” he groaned against my ear. “So wet, just for me?” His voice was such a dirty whisper, teasing my ear, while his middle finger collected my juices and came back up to rub deep, rough circles on my neglected clit. I bucked up, biting my lip to hold a moan. 

“S-simon,” I whined, gripping both hands on his forearm. The hand holding my breast mitigated upwards until all his digits wrapped carefully around my throat and he pulled me flush, arched against him, barely standing on my toes, his fingers working deep, quick circles on my clit, and my entire body shuddered. 

“You like that, huh?” he whispered, biting the shell of my ear, but at this point I didn’t care. “You want me to make you cum, huh, Laura?” My name dripping from his lips was like honey, and the way he moved his fingers, palm still adding pressure to my clit as he slipped his middle finger inside me was like magic. 

He slipped in so easily, almost embarrassingly so, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. “Fuck, so eager,” he groaned. 

“Simon, I’m - I’m...” 

He was rubbing a spot inside me that made my fingers numb against his arm, my mouth fall open, and a mixture between a whimper and a moan came from deep within me. He’d obviously done this before.

“You want to let the entire base know who’s making you feel this way?” he asked, his palm rubbing on my clit, his middle finger deep inside me, stretching, pumping against every right nerve. “Huh, Laura, come on.”

His voice was rough, and by the way he was rutting against my ass from behind was a tell tale sign that he was getting something out of this too. 

And the more he rubbed inside me, against my clit, tightening his fingers against my throat, the closer I was to an edge I’d rarely seen. And I was petrified of flinging myself over it, of giving this man the satisfaction of calling an orgasm out of me that he didn’t deserve. 

“Laura,” he taunted. “Cum for me, my dove,” he cooed. His fingers sped up, pressure against my clit increasing and I groaned against my teeth, arching against his erection, giving him every inch of me. “Come on, beauty, cum for me.”

I whimpered and something inside me snapped, his finger hitting that spot, rubbing it, culling my precipice until I was voluntarily throwing myself over it.

Every part of me tightened, my head falling forward under the hot spray of water, my thighs tightening, squeezing his hand, but he kept pumping his finger so roughly in and out of me, making a moan drawl deep from within my chest. 

“That’s it, little dove,” he cooed, easily holding me up. “Just like that.”

Every inch of me buzzed, rolled over with pleasure, and I clenched around his finger, feeling a gush leak onto the inside of my thighs. 

When I was but a panting mess, limp against him, he pulled his hand from my shorts, rubbing both palms across my belly, up until he was cradling both breasts. 

And then he lifted the hem of my bra until my sore, limp arms lifted and he was undressing me. Slowly. Gently. He took my shorts and panties off and rubbed what I imagine was soap across me. 

And he was silent. I couldn’t see him, but I felt every time his hand passed across my body, soaping me up. And then he added shampoo to my hair and massaged my scalp and helped me rinse. I was putty in his hands, completely to his mercy, and I was beginning to hate this. 

“Ghost.” My voice was roach, wretched. 

He hummed.

“I... I...” How could I tell him something like that? To a man who’s only known violence and command and territory his entire life. And clearly, he didn’t know how to refrain from getting what he wanted. “Simon, I hate you.”

He laughed through his nose and cradled his face into the crook of my shoulder, cupping my ass, squeezing painfully. “I love my name from your lips, little dove,” he cooed, the sound reverberating off his chest, echoing between my ribs. “Consider this a favor. I’ll see you for more.” He said that like a promise, whispered against my ear, his delicate, soft mouth grazing my lips as he pulled back. 

I felt his absence after a second, but by the time I ripped my blindfold off, I was completely alone.