#I can't believe I drew this in like an hour and a half

[saltysunflowersugar]

Drew the Morioh Jojos with the Bill Nye Pallette :D

#jojo's bizarre adventure #josuke higashikata #Gappy #Song pallette game #Limited color pallette #Diamond is unbreakable #Jojolion #Morioh #Ibis paint x #I can't believe I drew this in like an hour and a half #I love the pose #Bill Nye The Science Guy #Jojos part 4 #Jojos part 8

[2kmps]

BED-REST IS BEST

howl pendragon x sick!reader | 2.1k

synopsis; while sophie and michael are away fetching you bone broth for your illness, howl decides to pay you a visit.

story warnings; sick!reader, howl is a pompous turd, book!howl-coded, interrupted kiss, roughly proofread, posted 2021.

Sophie supposed the malady came on the winds of spring, carrying with it all manner of sickness, unpleasantness, and turbid air just the thinnest tinge of green from particles of pollen. She herself felt the effects of the great thaw, the budding tulips of richest hue, and the haze that drew over head like a personal cloud of suffering all her own.

Of course, Old Sophie had a way of dramatizing, meanwhile simultaneously catastrophizing stuff, so you knew to listen to her words loosely, with a solemn nod that you also shared similarly in those feelings. To a lesser degree than her, you were already aware your forced bed-rest could be attributed to allergies.

Or, something else you considered, it could have been the number of sputtering children who yet not knew to duck their faces in a tissue or their arms; it could have been the last embrace you shared with your sickly aunt. It could have been so many things that you had to press the pads of your fingers into your temples to subdue the stab of a headache building beneath them.

“Michael and I are going to Market Square to get supplies and bone broth. That’ll whip you into shape in no time.” Sophie anchored her fists against the bulky layers of her skirt, nearly losing them from how deeply they sunk. “Don’t you dare think about moving until we get back, hear me?”

“What about customers?” you couldn’t say you were disappointed by her firm demand, though all the same it made you restless. Even in times where illness or injury got you down, rest eluded you like fine sand slithering through crevices in your fingers. “Howl went off and blew half our income on that- that, damn, what was it? Some kind of enchanted flute? The more customers we serve, the more we can stash away.”

Sophie’s nostrils widened while her shoulders sagged forward with her breath. Her eyes lost their hardness, ebbing into something far warmer, motherly, almost. As you shifted anxiously beneath the covers, she came back around and began tucking them under your body once again, sure to secure you tighter than before. In fact, you were so caught, so much in your cocoon that you only saw the gray ball of wadded hair pinned atop her head bounce as she rounded you.

“Just stay down you worrywart,” she sighed, heels tapping the floorboards in a collected gait. At your head, she was careful to fluff the feathers in your pillow. “Between us, I’ve been putting a bit aside here and there. Just enough so he can't go buy another one of those enchanted suits. I’d like to know the dealer he’s getting them from and have a word with them myself.”

Your lips curled up at the mention and, honestly, you believed she actually would. “Where is Howl, anyway? I thought he was around.”

“Good grief, I almost wish he wasn’t. He’s been banging around in his room for hours now.” Old Sophie threw her hand towards the adjacent wall, upper lip curling as she continued, “says a lot that you haven’t heard a lick of it.”

That was enough to get you to concede to her obstinacy, letting the weight of your head- suddenly a strain on your neck- fully rest atop of the pillow she had fixed. The more she talked about you needing to stay in bed, drink bone broth and saltines, the more you felt the lead in your limbs rooting you to the mattress and the world floating around you when you closed your eyes.

It was any guess to you when it was the moment Sophie slipped out of your room with that hobbled gait of hers. You had been vaguely aware of her giving your cushion a bit more lusciousness, and then warmth of her palm covering the space of your forehead, giving a fretful tongue click. Behind your heavy eyelids, your eyes floated after her tiny footfalls, but that at once made your bed feel like a boat crashing through cresting waves.

So, you finally resigned to your fate of her and Michael’s care, finally let the stone in your bones meld you into the bed like beige boulders sinking further into the earth and undergrowth with coming centuries.

The silence that surrounded you was enthralling, probably the only true amount of peace you had had in a long time, considering your days were often brimmed with mediating Sophie and Howl’s explosiveness, meanwhile, still cooking up meager spells and manning the business with Michael.

In your weariness and delirium, a thought crossed your mind in a drawl: what about Calcifer, did he need more wood? You anticipated his voice bursting out soon, imploring attention in any number of ways. What of the front door? You expected a knock to come soon, and then another, and another, and perhaps a dozen more. That was money well needed.

What of Sophie? Your thoughts continued. Would she need you to help with scrubbing the floors? Maybe she wanted to give you a knitting lesson later, or expand on her tutelage of weaving hats.

Oh, and Howl—

God, how could you forget Howl? The man felt like a job all on its own. 

Surely he intended to go out again and woo many of the loveliest in Market Chipping, or hell, maybe he’d move the castle somewhere else for the night to do that. You expected him to hunt you down, throw open your door, barge through the threshold with his hair aflutter and eagerness in his eyes—where did you and Miss Nose stash his suits? His guitar wasn’t where he left it, where was it? Neither of you meddled with the charm over his door, right?

As it turned out, you mumbled in your sleep, or at least in your discombobulated state. Your head rustled the feather pillow, lolling to one side and then the other as sweat prickled your forehead in cold beads. Behind your eyelids, Sophie’s nimble and darkly spotted hands worked on a suit, meanwhile Michael was ran ragged around the castle to try to fulfill orders, Calcifer bellowed for attention and eggs and bacon, and Howl’s hair whipped up in the breeze as he spun round and round with another lovely.

Your entire face twitched when a large hand smoothed across the top of your head, a damp weight of something laid spread across your forward, unpleasant and clammy unlike Sophie’s warm hand. “Hey. Don’t take the newt from the shelf, it’ll get on the floor.”

Howl gave a bemused smile that took a while to dissipate. You continued to babble incoherently here and there about things that didn't matter while the peaks of his knuckles simply rocked across your temple and cheek.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I pray that Sophie has made herself useful instead of sticking her nose in on us again.” He said with lightness in voice, peering across his shoulder towards the bolted doorway to be sure. “Good. She seems to think I only make you worse in these states. I would never.”

You were sure you were hearing his voice at this point, rousing you from the cluster in your head until your eyes fixed with his, wonderful and marble-like. They were softer than usual, glittering like the sea when the sun hung highest, making the water like a trove of dazzling treasure.

“Your eyes are amazing, Howell.” You whispered hoarsely, swallowing through the desert in your throat. “I don’t notice them enough.”

His smile took on something brighter, almost as though delighted you took notice of something that menial. “I would agree with you there! You can look as long as you’d like. Tell me more about it.”

“I think about us sometimes, Howell.” It was a strange feeling right now, the words you spoke were the first to float forward in your mind. You knew you were speaking garbled silliness, still you didn’t think better of it. “I remember college together, before we came to Ingary. I remember how you used to look before you… started doing the enchantment stuff. I feel like I’ve forgotten you.”

The lines in his lips were significantly deeper as they pulled down, his hand halted against your skin. It was either the thought that you felt such a disconnect from him, or the reminiscence of who he once was that brought the sullen look of his on. No longer was there a glitter of childish joy, but rather of anxiety, of concern.

“Nonsense. You’re talking nonsense just like Sophie and Calcifer.” He moved closer to you on the bed, rolling your arm from its spot as the mattress bent. Next, the pillow cradling your head flattened, his hands cuffed into the thick fabric as he leaned across you, your eyes only able to see him. “I… I’m still here. I have not left you, I wouldn’t entertain the thought. Didn’t I tell you that wherever I’d go from here on out, you would have to be right with me?”

You only wished he’d tell you such things in every other state of being, instead of during the peak of being bedridden. “I want to believe you, but in this world I am as ordinary as the hat makers and bakers. I’m replaceable. I wonder if that will happen one day.”

Noticeably distraught from the creases deepening around the corners of his mouth, and his eyes flitting wildly around your face as though in panic. He came down onto his elbows, caging you below him as his fear neared, his hot breath inches away.

“What makes you think I could ever replace you? Has someone put that bull into your head? Was it Calcifer—the pest? Was it a panderer we met the other day?” Now that he was so close to you, his voice had lowered and it rumbled. “Or, are you so sleep deprived, so loopy that you’re finally now telling me your heart?”

“Does it matter what I confess to you now?” you asked, pushing your head deeper into the feathers and farther from him. As you turned your face away, he shifted to gently coax your chin forward with the daintiest touch of his fingertips. “I would be alone in that venture. In a matter of five, six, ten years—I’ll have all the age and lines you hate. I’m sure I’ll shrink even more.”

“You do realize we have someone in our house who already looks like that.” He said this jokingly, of course, but even in your fever, your hand shot up to pinch his arm. “H–Hey, stop! Furthermore, you’re making up stuff, who would be to say you’d be alone with your heart?”

The explanation to that was obvious, considering the whole business with Calcifer and the Witch, but you didn’t want to think about it. In fact, at any opportunity to steer your mind away from that debacle, you found it.

Once again, you tried to look away from him—both sleep was beginning to weigh on your bones more than what you imagine Howl would if he were to collapse, and away from the furor gleaming in his eyes. And once again, he pulled you back towards him.

“Sick as you are, I’d like to prove it to you.” It was an unusual thing to hear from him considering all his caution with appearance and health. You wondered if he was desperate to alleviate your distrust. “Why are you looking at me like that? Close your eyes—yeah, I would rather not risk your germs, but some things can’t be helped.”

You weren’t sure if your eyes slid shut from gravity, or from some sort of internal desire for him to do this. Either way, his hand returned adjacent to the other near your hair, tugging slightly at the strands and his breath came so close you felt it tremble against your lips.

And then, all at once, his breath snagged in his throat as the door was thrown open, bouncing off the wall with such force it vibrated. In waddled Old Sophie, arms conveniently free of anything other than an old wood broom with long, spidery bristles that she held aloft across her shoulder, eyes blazing and the most malicious you had ever seen them.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with this dog! This cretin, vile imbecile! This complete, utterly hopeless dolt!” She screeched, the layers of her dress billowed behind her as she started into the room as fast as her creaky old limbs could. “Get out, get out, get out! Away with you, you absolute user! Away! Away! Away! Begone!”

Howl yelped in surprise as the tiny old lady swung the broom with enough ferocity for you to feel the air gush and whoosh around you.

“You demented old coot! Swinging brooms and the like around, are you completely classless?!” he propelled himself upright, expertly ducking her onslaught until he was well out the door into the hall. “I won't forget this!”

As luck would have it, their bickering continued on even once they were out of the room, even fifteen minutes later when Michael weaseled through the threshold with your bone broth and bolted the door behind him.

divider by @/anlian-aishang

reposted from my deleted blog officiallytheduchess/cardeneiv

#howl x you #hmc howl #howlscastle #howl's moving castle #howls moving castle #howl pendragon #howl x y/n #howl x reader #howl pendragon x y/n #howl pendragon x you #howl pendragon x reader #hmc imagines #hmc fic #howl hmc #hmc book #hmc #2k writes

[diorsbrando]

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 ♡♡.

#໒꒱ newborn stand ─ sosa’s filez #i love having a bleach brain rot <3 #out of all my published works this might be my magnum opus SO FAR #so far….. #because i’m gonna write more and my writing will improve 🙂 but for now i present you this #you can prob tell how much i like aizen lolol #bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach fandom #bleach tybw #bleach cfyow #cfyow fic #bleach x reader #sosuke aizen #aizen sousuke #bleach aizen #captain aizen #aizen x reader #aizen x you #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen centric fic #aizen x black reader #bleach x black reader #bleach x female reader

[f1letters]

lavender haze | mv1

"I been under scrutiny, you handle it beautifully"

summary: after winning his second championship in another controversial way, max needed her by his side more than ever as the media tried to tear him apart

warning: a little bit of angst for Max, but overall fluff for the couple, swearing, suggestive language, mentions of the championship-deciding races of Abu Dhabi GP 2021 and Japan GP 2022 from Max's point of view, mentions of scrutiny from the media, Jos Verstappen lol

pairing: max verstappen x reader

word count: 2.8k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past. also, I would like to point out that I didn't write this as a personal opinion/critique of Ted or anyone involved in the whole Sky Sports scandal (which is why I didn't use his name or his exact words in the story and why I only used the controversy as a reference/inspiration very loosely), but rather wrote about what I imagine were the thoughts/feelings of people on Max's side (himself, the Red Bull team, Jos, etc), regarding this matter.

dutch words used: schatje = baby; liefje = honey

and we are back! once again, thank you all for being so understanding about me skipping last weekend 💜 I hope you enjoy this little story, as always!

masterlist

Meet me at midnight

Ever since he was just a little boy, all Max dreamed of was being a Formula 1 champion.

To have his name written in the history books. To have his legacy immortalized in the records for eternity.

From then, Max spent all of his hours, days, weeks, months and years preparing for it. He gave all of his blood, sweat and tears for it.

For that exact moment: when he stood right there in Japan, tall and proud, with his trophy in hand, after being announced World Champion for the 2nd time.

Lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling next to his girlfriend, the driver could still feel the euphoria coursing through his veins.

He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be in that position. 

He had everything he could ever want: his biggest dream came true twice, he had a successful career that so many envied, and most of all, he had the best person in the world by his side.

At the end of the day, it didn't matter all the money, the victories, the parties, the luxury if he couldn't have her there in his arms.

Y/N was everything to him, and he knew that the championship victory was as much hers as his.

Max let his hand run through the shiny strands of his partner's hair, the warm skin of their bodies pressed together, while Y/N drew random figures with her soft fingers across the man's toned chest.

The couple remained in each other's arms, not saying too much, both still over the moon and completely in awe from the unforgettable day they just had.

"I'm so proud of you, my love." Y/N broke the silence installed in the hotel room, whispering her words. "You can't imagine how happy I am for you."

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

Max half smirked with his eyes half closed as sleep began to creep in.

With his eyes locked on the girl before him, the boy tucked the hair that covered her face behind her ear and stayed like that for a few minutes. Just living in the moment, letting her words sink in, appreciating what life had given him.

"Thanks, schatje. For everything." He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm completely crazy about you, you know that?"

Y/N laughed shyly, moving her body even closer to her boyfriend's, laying down on his chest. "Stop, Max! You know I get all embarrassed when you start saying stuff like that."

"You stop! I'm just telling the truth!" Their laughter filled the room in pure harmony. Max stopped, returning to his moment of gratitude. "I just love you. So much, Y/N. This is all thanks to you."

"This is all thanks to your talent, baby." The young woman rested her cheek against the driver's bare shoulder. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Y/N knew that Max would immediately understand what she was trying to say.

The girl couldn't help but fear that the Dutchman would let all the scrutiny behind yet another championship win bring him down.

Max had a whole facade around him. Max appeared to be confident, poised, collected, unfazed by all adversity, and sometimes even self-centred and arrogant because of his posture on the track. 

But deep down, Max was nothing but a fragile little boy, still trying to seek his father's approval.

Max was obsessed with perfection. Everything he had to do had to be absolutely spot on: every corner had to be perfectly executed, his car had to be at its best at all times, any position other than the first one was simply not good enough.

Knowing him better than anyone, Y/N knew how to handle him beautifully and knew that in the back of Max's mind, the fact that this was yet another victory tainted by controversy was tormenting him, even if he tried to hide it.

I've been under scrutiny

You handle it beautifully

All this shit is new to me

Both of them could only imagine all the headlines, the comments, the criticism. All because of a loophole that was never under the driver's control.

"Don't worry about me." Max answered the unspoken question the girl posed. "I don't give a damn what people say."

The harsh words that came out of his mouth seemed to be an attempt to convince himself more than her. They both knew that.

It had been almost a year since the boy had been named champion for the first time and yet to that day he still suffered attacks due to something that (once again) was not in his power to change.

Y/N didn't push, knowing the argument was going nowhere, and instead chose to joke with her boyfriend to lighten the mood. "Well, I don't know if you know this... but you look so much hotter as a two-time world champion."

Happiness filled Max's chest as he chuckled, turning their position so that his body was on top of hers. His lips roamed over her neck, leaving soft kisses and nibbles along the way, until he strayed away to deposit an intense and passionate kiss on her mouth.

His head lifted slightly, creating enough distance between them for him to speak, though their lips were still touching. "What if I showed again how it feels like to fuck a two-time world champion, hmm?"

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

Two weeks passed until the next race, the couple trapped in their lavender haze.

The Texas sun cut through the clouds in the sky and reflected warmly on the girl's skin as she entered the circuit, side by side with Carola.

Both friends over the last few years since they met in the Red Bull garage through their partners, the young women understood each other perfectly: both were reserved, with no great desire for attention on them, just there to support their lovers.

As always, a peaceful and relaxed conversation was taking place between the two, as they strolled around the paddock with smiles on their faces. 

Carola told Y/N all about the latest incident at the Perez house, with the small sibling clashes between Checo Jr. and Carlota, and the other girl just laughed. She knew how happy those children made her friend and she couldn't wish anything else for Carola.

Suddenly the mood around them seemed to change. 

The environment that before was serene, relaxed, and enthusiastic now gave off a heavy, tense, nervous energy.

Y/N started looking into the faces of the people they passed for answers, aware that they were looking at her. What the fuck is going on, she thought to herself.

Carola sensed the discomfort on her friend, placing a concerned hand on the girl's shoulder. "Y/N, are you okay?"

"Well, I'd like to know the answer to that question too," Y/N confessed without too much thought. "I don't know, honestly. I have a feeling something is wrong."

"Maybe it's nothing," The Mexican tried to calm her down, running her hand up and down along her friend's forearm, although she was aware of the gazes in their direction too. "We're almost at the garage and we'll clear everything up."

Walking through the navy blue walls, the tension only intensified in the air. 

The faces of the team members showed worry and nervousness, and the PR team rushing back and forth relentlessly was a sign that something had gone wrong during the drivers' media duties following their practice session.

Knowing Max like the back of her hand... Y/N knew it was him.

All they keep asking me

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see

Is a one-night or a wife

"Hey, where's Max?" Y/N asked her father-in-law, Jos, who wore an angry look on his face. Although their relationship was distant, she knew that if anyone was aware of everything that was going on in her boyfriend's career, it was his father.

"Would also like to know." The man replied dryly, running a hand impatiently through his hair. "He just walked out of here like a fucking coward, and left the others here to sort out his shit."

Y/N swallowed hard, knowing it wasn't worth wasting time trying to defend Max as all the words she would say would go in one ear and out the other. "What happened?"

"That shitty reporter, that's what happened." The older Verstappen replied, raising his tone. "That bastard had the nerve to say on live TV that Max didn't deserve any of his titles, and he panicked like a pussy. I didn't raise him like that - I raised him to be a man, not a little boy."

Without a second thought, Y/N turned her back on the man and grabbed her phone, trying to call her partner, only for her call to go to voicemail.

Unconsciously, the girl opened her Instagram and immediately came across the reporter's now-viral video.

"He doesn't seem to be capable of winning a championship without some sort of scandal. First, Hamilton was obviously ripped off in Abu Dhabi; now, they award full points in a race that wasn't even half finished because of some apparent 'loophole'?! Favouritism at its best."

All of a sudden, the air seemed to have difficulty getting into the girl's lungs, the temperature seemed to have risen dramatically, and Y/N started to feel dizzy as the media started to bring up Max's history.

Max, where are you, she asked herself, begging for a sign of his presence.

I find it dizzying

They're bringing up my history

But you aren't even listening

Y/N looked everywhere: in the garage, in his driver's room, in all the different rooms in the motorhome, in the back of the building, in the cafeteria, everywhere. 

She was starting to run out of options, but she knew he had to be around somewhere since his exit from the circuit would not be discreet at all, quite the contrary.

If I were Max where would I hide from the world, she reflected, desperate to be reunited with her boyfriend. Of course! In the place where everyone least expected to find him.

With a hurried step and depositing complete confidence in this last and risky idea, Y/N set off on her way until she came face to face with the red walls, embellished with the Prancing Horse symbol.

Deviating towards the back of the Ferrari building, Y/N felt her heart return to its normal rhythm when she set her eyes on the image of his lover.

There he was, sitting on the grass, with his vision pointed to the sky, so small and so fragile that no one else would be able to see him hiding there.

The girl slowly approached the driver, almost afraid to startle him, until he eventually noticed her presence when she was only a few inches away from him. His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sight of his girlfriend, and a small, forced smile appeared on his face.

"Of course you found me," Max whispered, placing his hand on the girl's thigh, who was now sitting on the grass next to him. "I guess you already know what happened."

Y/N laid her head on his shoulder, hugging his strong arm. "Yeah, I saw it... I'm sorry Max, you don't deserve this."

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

That lavender haze

"I don't really care," Max spoke, shaking his head. "Let them say what they want. It doesn't matter to me."

"Baby…" The young woman knew that he was doing what he always did: bottling it up inside, hiding his feelings, just like he was taught to do his whole life.

"Liefje, don't worry. I'm fine, I promise."

"Max, stop doing this." Y/N touched his face, forcing him to look at her with his noticeably teary eyes.

"Y/N-"

"Max, please." The girl begged. "You don't have to pretend to be strong with me. You can be honest; you can scream, cry, freak out, you name it, and I'll always be here to listen."

The Dutchman took a deep breath in acceptance, leaning his head back against the red wall. "I'm just tired, you know? I try and try to do my best at all times and it's never enough. Not for the media, not for my dad, or-"

"For me, it's more than enough." The girlfriend interrupted. "And it should be enough for you too. You shouldn't care what others say… Especially your father." She teased, forcing a laugh out of Max's mouth.

The boy contemplated her words for a few seconds, placing a kiss on her temple. "I love you, you're the best."

"I know," She replied, bumping his shoulder playfully. "But I'm serious, Max. No one should have enough power over you that they can make you feel inferior, or less than you are. You are Max fucking Verstappen, two-time Formula 1 world champion. And so much more to come, I don't doubt it for a second."

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

The girl jumped to her feet, waking the driver from his own thoughts, and reached out to him with both her hands to help him get up on his feet too. "Come on, champ! Enough sulking here and let's face the world with our heads held high, shall we?"

Much calmer after getting it off his chest, Max looked at her with eyes shining with pride and, accepting her help, he got up. Instantly, his arms found their place around her waist, as did his lips on hers.

The couple shared a calm kiss, enjoying their moment of peace in the midst of such a chaotic situation.

"Thanks, schatje." Max said, returning his mouth to hers seconds later. "I can never thank you enough for everything you've done and do for me every day."

"I would do anything for you, baby." Y/N smiled wide, the dimples in her cheeks becoming noticeable. "Anything."

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

On their way to the Red Bull garage, the two reappeared in the paddock, hand in hand, eyes only on each other.

With them, dozens of photographers and journalists emerged from the shadows, hunting the Dutchman for his comments and trying to get controversial headlines for their next articles.

But from Max, they only managed to take away the magical smile he had stamped on his face while talking to his girlfriend.

It was almost as if nothing had happened to him, such was the confident and determined posture the driver now assumed.

There was nothing like a good dose of love to make someone feel on top of the world, and Max was living proof of that in front of all those prying eyes.

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

That lavender haze

I just wanna stay

The world could crumble around them and they would still manage to stay on their feet.

They were a team. They had the perfect balance between them, the strength to face any obstacle together. Like two separate souls born to be reunited, in this life and all lives to come. Born to be on their lavender haze forever.

"Just you and me, liefje." Max whispered so only she could hear over the screams and camera flashes.

Y/N pulled him by the arm closer to her body in search of the comfort he conveyed to her every time, and smiled discreetly at him.

"You and me against the world, my love."

I just wanna stay

In that lavender haze

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thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 one shot #max verstappen #mv1 #f1letters #f1 x taylor swift #f1 x reader #f1 x midnights #Spotify #max verstappen one shot #formula 1 one shot #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv33 x reader #max verstappen fic #f1 fic

[auteurdelabre]

GONE - Javier Peña x M OR F! READER

Pairings: Javier Peña x m OR f! Reader (never specified)

Rating: pg13

Tags: angst, established relationship, breaking up, love but it hurts.

Notes: I had this story floating in my head all day so I had to write it quick. Sorry for any and all spelling or grammar errors.

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

GONE

"I'm tired of having the same fight over and over."

"So drop it."

"I can't," you say, swallowing the crack in your voice as you turn to face him. "Either we talk this out or I'm gone."

You're standing by the door of his apartment, by the framed photo of his mama. He's seated on the couch, cigarette in one hand, whiskey in the other.

There's a quiet moment of clarity as you two engage in this silent stand-off. He's never going to change.

Only a single lamp illuminates the room, casting half his face into shadow. You drink in the strong nose and plush lips. The way his large, soulful eyes go from staring at the ground to gazing up at your face.

"Then go," he scoffs, the hand around his whiskey glass tightening. "Leave the key in the bowl on your way out."

"I'm serious, Javi."

"So am I."

You'd been foolish to think a man like Javier Peña could commit. The charismatic enigma who's sole focus was work? How could you think you'd ever compare?

The very thing that drew you to him was what now pushed you out of his arms and his life.

You'd liked that he was focused and dedicated to his job. You liked that he had an easy smile for most, even if it hid a tortured look in his eyes. You liked that when he talked to you he barely blinked, as if even those milliseconds would be time wasted not seeing you.

He gave you a key to his apartment after three months. Murmured into your neck that he liked coming home to you. You fucked all hours, you made dinners together dancing in his cramped kitchen, he fell asleep on your shoulder more than once.

And when you saw toll that the the weight of his job took you'd painted him as a tragic, romantic figure with galaxy-filled eyes and a passion that burned, stoked by life's past tragedies.

Perhaps that had been your biggest mistake because what you hadn't painted him as was human.

A human that drank too much and worked too late. A human that liked fucking you but ignored you in public. If you tried to claim his hand in yours it was casually batted away.

He tried to convince you it was for your safety, that Escobar had men watching him. That when he went out with Connie and Murphy and didn't invite you it was to keep you alive.

And you'd believed it, or at least you'd accepted it. Was it naiveity on your part? Or willful ignorance?

Whatever it was it's over now. Over ever since you got the call this morning that your parents are coming to Columbia to see where you work at the embassy and to meet the man you've been dating half a year. The man you've told them you're in love with.

You hadn't been expecting Javi's vitriolic response when you'd happily told him over coffee this morning that they would be coming over for dinner the next night.

Despite it being hours ago you still vividly recall the way he'd slammed his coffee cup down so quickly dark brown droplets landed everywhere. The way he'd fixed you with a hideous scowl and demanded you cancel it because:

"I'm not meeting your fucking parents."

Hours later he still won't give you a straight answer. Won't explain why he never brings you to drinks with friends and why date nights are usually alone in his apartment. Why fucking him sometimes seems like the only way you can feel close some weeks. When he holds you down by the small of your back and fucks into you with an animalistic growl that feels ripped from his lungs.

And then you realize you're done. It's over. It was never really started was it? Is it a relationship if it only exists behind closed doors? Can love bloom in a cage?

You take a moment to look at him one last time. The way his shoulders cause his pale blue shirt to strain, the way his tongue comes to swipe the last dregs of whiskey from his full lower lip. The lean fingers that hold a cigarette he hasn't taken a drag from since you started this conversation.

"Goodbye, Javi."

You turn before you're unable to keep the tears from falling. They come though, streaming down your cheeks as you make it to the door, suitcase in hand. Like you'd always known it would end like this.

The key is dropped in the brown bowl he keeps his wallet, sunglasses and other items when he comes home from work.

When the door is shut behind you, you're certain you can hear footsteps over carpet and the muffled sound of your name being called.

But it's too late.

You're already gone.

#javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena #javi pena #narcos fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[the-badger-mole]

Why?

It was always fun when they got together, but this was a special occasion. In three days, Katara and Zuko would be married in a private ceremony attended by just close friends and family. In four days, they would have the lavish royal wedding to be attended by world leaders, nobility and whatever Fire Nation citizens would fit inside of Caldera. In five days, Katara would be crowned Fire Lady in a ceremony at least as lavish as the royal wedding. Tonight, though, it was just the six friends in Zuko's suite, reminiscing, catching up and drinking perhaps a bit too much.

It was well into the earliest hours of morning before everyone started drifting off to their rooms. Sokka and Suki, the proud parents of a six month old who was just beginning to sleep through the night, went first. Then Zuko, who was extremely reluctant to leave, but had business to take care of in order to make sure his honeymoon would be uninterrupted. Toph left soon after Zuko. She had fallen asleep on the rug in front of the fire, but when woken, she insisted she was just resting her eyes. Katara chuckled at her friend, but managed to convince her to rest her eyes in her own bed. The sun would be up shortly, so she was getting ready to go to turn in, too. Aang, though, lingered at the table they'd all been sitting at. He knew where his room was, so Katara thought nothing of letting him take his time getting there.

"Going to bed already?" Aang asked as Katara stood up.

"Yeah," she nodded, stretching her arms over her head. "I have a last minute meeting with the wedding planner before lunch, and then I was planning to spend the rest of the day with my dad and Gran Gran."

"I can't believe you're getting married," Aang said, shaking his head. "It doesn't feel real."

"Tell me about it," Katara laughed. "We've been planning this for a year, and it still feels like we didn't have enough time to plan."

"You think it's too soon?" Aang asked.

"Absolutely not!" Katara replied emphatically, a wide smile spreading over her face. "I was ready to marry Zuko three months into dating him. We only waited as long as we did because he wanted to make sure I'd be comfortable here." Aang was silent for a long moment, and Katara was starting to feel fatigue creeping up on her. She was about to say goodnight, when Aang spoke again.

"Are you sure about this?" He said it so quietly Katara wasn't sure she heard him correctly.

"What?" she asked mid yawn.

"Are you sure about this?" Aang repeated a bit louder. "About him?" Katara's brow drew down in confusion.

"Of course I'm sure," she let out an incredulous laugh. "This is a lot of effort if I wasn't sure." Aang shrugged.

"I mean, it's not too late to back out," he said. "If you decided it wasn't what you want." Katara blinked hard and shook her head. The alcohol and the late hour must have been getting to her. Nothing her friend was saying made any sense.

"I'm not backing out," she said. "Wait...did Zuko mention something about not wanting-"

"No!" Aang said quickly. "No, that's not...I'm just...Why him?"

"What?" Katara felt as if every nerve in her body had suddenly been electrified. She gaped at Aang in shock. He sat at the table, fidgeting with his half-empty cup. He took a breath and squared his shoulders. He turned his wide, grey eyes up at Katara.

"Why did you choose him?" he asked. "Why Zuko? Why not- why not me?" Katara was at a loss for words. She knew Aang had had feelings for her once, but that was years ago. They were adults now, and she thought he had long since moved on.

"I love him," she told Aang simply. "I've loved him a long time. Longer than we've been together."

"But I love you," Aang said. "I've loved you since I first opened my eyes and saw you there." Katara shook her head.

"You love an idea of me," she said. "You love that I took care of you. But Zuko...he loved me in my grief, and my anger. He loved me when I wasn't kind and sweet. He loved me when I wasn't at my best." Aang snorted and thew back the rest of the contents of his cup.

"So because I didn't encourage your worst parts I didn't measure up?" he demanded. "You chose him over me because he didn't expect better of you?" Katara gasped as if she had been slapped. Then she got angry.

"For your information, Zuko pushes me to be better all the time," she snapped. "He just doesn't pretend that my anger is out of character for me. He listens to me vent. He lets me be upset. He doesn't expect me to put on a smile and pretend like the situation isn't as bad as it is."

"I'd let you be upset!"

"Oh please!" Katara snorted derisively. "The day after Ozai captured my father, you wanted to go play and got annoyed when we wanted to plan our next steps!"

"I was a kid then!" Aang protested. "I wouldn't do that now."

"You think I just got over that?" Katara demanded. "Aang, you are my friend, and I love you, but you haven't done anything since then to prove that you care about any of my feelings that are inconvenient to you! And that's fine. That's our relationship because I am the one who takes care of you. That's what you needed from me. But, Aang...I my feelings were never going to turn romantic from that. You're like my little brother. Sometimes my son. I can't turn to you the way I turn to Zuko. He's...he's my best friend."

"I thought I was your best friend."

Katara sighed. In nearly ten years, Aang had come a long way from the boy that she and her brother had rescued from the iceberg, but perhaps not as far as she thought. She could see the traces of the kid she'd taken care of in the sag of his shoulders, and in the way his mouth turned down in his disappointment. For an instant, Katara wanted to pull him into a hug and comfort him, but she knew that wouldn't be the right move here.

"You are a friend I love dearly," Katara told him. "But I can't turn to you with my problems. I can't be my full self with you. If I had chosen you, it would've been for the wrong reasons. It would've been because I thought you needed me, or I was afraid of hurting your feelings, or I felt like I owed you for defeating Ozai."

"What's wrong with any of those reasons?" Aang was near tears at this point, and Katara felt awful. Still, she reasoned to herself, it was kinder to kill any hope of her he had been harboring.

"I wouldn't be choosing you because I love you," she told him. "I was never in love with you. If I chose you, it would've been because I felt obligated to, and that wouldn't have been fair to either of us. We both deserve to be loved for who we are completely. I have that with Zuko. I hope you let yourself find it with someone else." Tears were flowing down Aang's face now. Once again, Katara had to hold herself back from pulling him into a tight embrace. If their friendship had any chance of lasting, she knew she this was a wall that needed to be built high and strong.

"There's no one else in the world for me other than you," Aang said. Katara sighed and shook her head sadly.

"I really hope one day you'll realize that's not true. Goodbye, Aang."

#atla #zutara #anti aang #anti kataang #pre wedding confessions #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

[yuikomorii]

♡Valentine’s Day♡

// I present to you Ayayui Valentine's Day cg because they're adorable together and I really wanted to feed their stans uwu. I got this idea from something my bestie drew last year, and I'm not one to brag, but I love how this one turned out! It almost looks official, which makes me happy! ٩̋( *ˊᗜˋ* )و

I also wrote a special Valentine’s Day story regarding this cg! Despite being my best boy, I don’t really consider myself good at writing Ayato but I tried my best, therefore… if you’re into fluff and cheesy moments, click on “keep reading”! <3

~Ayayui Valentine’s Day scenario~

Yui: “Limited edition Pocky”

(That’s what I got yesterday when we went to the Demon world. Kanato-kun was surprisingly kind enough to recommend a good candy store, so I’m sure he must know best, right?)

(I can’t believe it’s already Valentine’s Day…)

(If I remembered it sooner, I would have tried to bake something special for it but I suppose these pocky sticks should do the trick as well. It’s still chocolate after all and it’s really interesting how once you finish them all, you’ll get a message at the bottom of the box!)

Now, all I have to do is wait and——

Ayato: Whatcha doing there, Chichinashi?

Yui: Wah…! Geez, Ayato-kun, you scared me!

(And he almost saw the pocky box too—!)

Ayato: Tch… stop screaming, will you?

Yui: Ah… I-I’m sorry! It’s just that… Ayato-kun, there is——

Student: Hey, you’re Ayato-san, right? I was told to give you these. They are quite a lot, you must really be popular, huh?

Yui: …!

(Eeh!? A bag full of chocolates!)

(I know Ayato-kun, as a member of the Sakamaki family, is popular but when this thought crosses my mind, my chest… it somehow tightens…)

W-Woah, the amount is really impressive!

Student: Right? I wish I received such gifts on Valentine’s Day too but haa… not everyone is lucky enough.

Ayato: Y’know, if you really want them, you can have them.

Yui: Wha—!

Student: E-Excuse me?

Ayato: I don’t need them, they can’t satisfy me in any way so what’s the point of keeping useless trash?

Yui: B-But Ayato-kun, it’s the thought that counts! Besides, they spent money on them!

Ayato: If they can afford to attend a private school, buying chocolates will not bankrupt them. Let's go, or what now? Do you prefer to walk home all alone in the dark?

Yui: That’s… I-I’m coming!

— Timeskip —

Yui: (Ayato-kun… Does he refuse Valentine's Day gifts? But if that's the case, I can't guarantee I won't be rejected as well...)

(Nevertheless, thinking negatively will accomplish nothing. I bought the box with the thought of him in my mind because Ayato-kun is the person I like the most. If I don't take a shot, I might regret it later, so it's now or never!)

Hey, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: Hm?

Yui: (Here we go…!)

Will you be… my Valentine?

— Yui blushes and hands him the pocky box —

Ayato: Heh…

Yui: (C-Come on, is he laughing at me now?)

— Ayato teleports —

Yui: Eh?

(We’re at some sort of dessert shop?)

Ayato: Took you long enough, Chichinashi. I would have much rather preferred to receive Takoyaki but pocky doesn’t sound half bad either.

Yui: Wait a little, so you knew!?

Ayato: Obviously? I noticed you hiding something from me a few hours ago and waited all day for you to make your move. At some point, I even thought you were scared based on my reaction to that bag of chocolates, which… wasn’t my intention.

Yui: It’s alright, don’t worry. I should have guessed you don't like Valentine's Day gifts. I mean, I'm sure there are a lot of disadvantages to being popular. You probably grew tired of receiving gifts from people with whom you had little or no interaction.

Ayato: That too but those chicks also lacked courage. If you're going to make something for me, give it to me face to face. I wouldn't have turned down their gifts otherwise; I'm not that kind of person, y’know?

Yui: (I see, so that explains his reaction. I failed to look at what was actually bothering Ayato-kun but on a positive note, I’m glad I took action, because that’s what he truly wanted.)

Ayato: Besides… I… I would have accepted it anyway from you.

Yui: A-Ayato-kun…!

Ayato: S-Stop screaming already, will you!? Tch… whatever!

Yui: (Am I not seeing well or is he really blushing? Fufu, that’s somehow cute~!)

Ayato: Pocky, huh? Let’s give them a taste test then, hm?

— Ayato puts pocky in his mouth and gets closer —

Yui: Eh? R-Right now? But this is a public place!

Ayato: And? What’s the point in having a Valentine if you can’t show them off ? Now c’mon, open your mouth.

Yui: Uuh…

(He’s lifting my chin!)

(When Ayato-kun looks at me like that… I simply can’t resist anymore!)

F-Fine… Mn..

Ayato: Mn… Mn… Mn…

Yui: (W-Wait, slow down!)

Ayato: *kisses*

Yui: …!

Ayato: Heeh, your face is turning bright red; are you really that easy to heat up~?

Yui: “E-Easy”, you say, but that's a normal reaction when you decide to kiss me unexpectedly!

Ayato: And now that I've done it once, I demand a second round!

— Timeskip —

Yui: (I can’t believe we finished the whole pocky box. Gosh… that was so embarrassing!)

(Thankfully, the people around us preferred minding their own business rather than looking at us.)

Ayato: …

Yui: (Ayato-kun became unusually quiet; could he be sleeping?)

Ayato-kun…?

Ayato: …

Yui: (No answer at all? Did he really fall asleep?)

(However, I shouldn't wake him up. We'll be asked to leave when the dessert shop closes anyway, so I'll let him nap for the time being.)

Come to think of it, now that the box is empty, a message was said to be at the bottom of it, no?

— Yui finds a piece of paper and starts reading —

Yui: “Thank you for purchasing our limited edition pocky! In honor of this release, we have a special treat in store for you too: if you share a pocky stick with your beloved, both of you will be able to drown in pleasure afterwards! The reason is simple because our secret ingredient is… aphrodisiac”!?

(N-No way, this can’t— Kya! Something is touching my leg!)

Ayato: Change of plans. Come with me, Yui.

— Ayato picks her up —

Yui: W-Wah, wait, Ayato-kun—!

(Uuh… what will I get myself into?)

#yui komori #ayato sakamaki #diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayayui #ayato x yui #my edit #admin

[eunoiathewriter]

X. THORPE X F!READER

Sypnosis: She pays a little visit to him, and it turns out she can actually be in love, she just does not have a heart that can tell her it.

Word Count: 1.7k

They had been quiet for the past few minutes, just sitting in comfortable silence with one another. The floor was cold; even just the small bed would be more comfortable, but they had been sitting on the stone floor for about five minutes and had gotten comfortable. He had asked for them to just not talk, and she had given him that without any problem.

y/n could get in major trouble for being there, and they both knew that. No one is supposed to be in the cell of an accused murderer, but no one was going to know of her little visit. The guard might have gotten something to help him get into a very deep slumber where no sound would wake him. No, he was not dead. The guard was, actually, just in a very deep slumber.

It was all thanks to Mrs. Thornhill teaching their class about that little seed that could put anyone into a deep, ten-hour sleep. Luckily enough for y/n she had been listening to that lesson, and the information proved useful. The only tricky part had been getting the seed into the officers' drink.

It was very late. Curfew had long since passed at Nevermore, but y/n sat on the cell floor, one of his hands in hers, while the other traced a nameless shape onto the back of his hand. This was what he had requested while sitting in silence.

Xavier opened his eyes after having them closed for a while, looking at the chains that had been around his hands and then the collar thing around his neck. He was thankful for the girl beside him, as she had been able to get her hands on the key to them, and for the time she was going to spend with him, he did not have to feel restrained.

Glancing over at y/n, he could see she was just staring off into space while her hand absentmindedly drew the nameless shapes on his hand. Why she believed him and not her new friend, Wednesday, was beyond him. But when she had just about half an hour earlier appeared in his cell, pointing out how awfully lonely it must be, he felt his whole being warm up.

That was the effect she often had on him, but she was also an intriguing character in Nevermore. y/n didn't really mix with or join any of the cliques in school. At first, he had just observed her from a distance, watching as she would sit by herself and do schoolwork or just read a book.

The first time they ever really interacted was when they were about fifteen. Xavier was in the Nightshades' little secret place when all of a sudden, a confused "What the fuck?" was uttered. When he turned, there she stood, her face puzzled as she turned to look around.

The memory of y/n being so shocked at the secret space that she had involuntarily become invisible and had made him confused as to where she was always brought a smile to his face. But, looking back, what was even funnier was how she mistook him for rude and acting as if he didn't know where she was, because she had no idea she was completely invisible to him.

Even now, in his miserable place in the world, accused of being a monster who had killed people, the memory still made him smile slightly while watching y/n just staring off into space.

"By the way, you know the love of your life is Bianca—" Before y/n could even finish that sentence, Xavier leaned his head back with a groan of annoyance, causing the girl to snort at him.

"Don't call her that." He rolled his head over to face her, and she only shrugged.

"I didn't call her that; that's what your fifteen-year-old self called her." She teased him because she couldn't stop making fun of him for it.

"I'm never escaping that one, am I?" 

"We'll see. Maybe you will, maybe you won't."

Xavier shook his head at y/n, now actually feeling like talking once they had started. "I can't really call that love now, can I?"

"Why not all of a sudden?" 

"When you love someone, it's supposed to feel a certain way, and I don't think a fifteen-year-old really knows how that feels, you know?"

"No," y/n said, shaking her head. "I don't know."

Xavier sat up a bit straighter and turned his head towards her, tilting it quizzically at her, not understanding what she meant by that. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no as in I don't know that feeling you're talking about; I've never felt it and probably never will." Confusing this with the fact that she was telling him she had never been in love and probably never would be, he felt he needed to tell her she would someday feel it.

"You will, someday." But he was only met with a laugh from y/n as she looked at him with a bit of shock. Did he truly not know what she had meant? 

"No I won't. You seriously don't know?" y/n asked with raised brows while waiting for an answer, and all she got was silence. 

It was not something she just said out loud, but her family had a history at Nevermore. Nobody knew how or why, but it felt like a family curse—at least that's how she perceived it. The lack of a heart that could determine what she was feeling towards someone was something she wanted badly. On her own, she could of course tell if she felt happiness, sadness, or anger, for example, but the one emotion she had a hard time with was love. Lacking a heart that could beat a little faster, flutter, or skip a beat when she liked someone made love hard.

It was all based on what she thought of a person. Most of her friends knew that she cared for them deeply. However, the line between when friendship became romantic feeling was so hazy that that territory remained unexplored.

"You know how everyone says their heart stops or flutters when they're near someone they like?" Yeah, Xavier knew that, as if his heart had not skipped a beat earlier when she suddenly appeared. "I won't feel that because my heart is quite literally dead."

"That's not possible." Xaviers' eyes were narrowed with suspicion, but y/n only held out her wrist for him.

"We got to a school with vampires, sirens, and werewolves, yet you say that not having a heart is impossible. Try me." 

Hesitantly, Xavier grabbed her wrist, brows still knitted together in confusion as he felt for a pulse. The gentle way he was holding her wrist made a tingling sensation go up y/n's spine. At first he seemed to think it was just her trying to find her pulse, but when he felt for his own and found it easily, then felt the same place on y/n wrist, it started to dawn on him.

"Makes it a little difficult to know if you love someone," y/n said, turning back to look into space, her wrist still gently held by Xavier. That tingling sensation was still there when he held her wrist. "I don't even know if I'm in love now."

"How do you figure that out?" He was genuinely intrigued, but it was also a way to keep her there longer and not leave him on his own again, and he wanted to maybe get to know who she liked or thought she liked. But something in him told him that even if he wanted to believe she liked him, that little voice said otherwise.

"I don't know. I mean, I care about him, and he's good company." He did not notice the quick glance she threw at him from where she sat. But Xavier nodded along.

"And?" Maybe he could get some idea of who the guy was that she thought she liked. The small part of his heart that still believed he had her kept holding on for dear life.

"He's kind of charismatic."

"Kinda charismatic?"

"Okay, he's really charismatic. Like I really don't know, but something about him is just like... making me more happy than I usually feel." y/n turned, only to find that Xavier was already staring at her intently.

A short silence followed, with both of them just holding eye contact. She could not look away from him; even if he was not in the best of situations, he still wanted to listen to her explain the guy she thinks she likes, which was her describing him to himself. She liked his eyes; the green in them was something she found comforting. Honestly, she just liked everything about him, especially his personality and artistic sense. He was good-looking too.

"He's lucky; that sounds like love to me." Xavier averted his eyes from hers. The confirmation of what she had described as being love was all she needed. 

"Then I hope he can forgive me for cursing him out the first time we ever really talked," Xavier blinked and turned to face y/n. That sounded familiar. "Because I really did not know I was invisible, and he couldn't see me." 

Once more, Xavier got quiet and just stared at her. No, no, that could not be right, right? She liked him? Okay, this had to be a hallucination. He was going crazy. No way in hell did she actually like him back. His heart was racing, and he realised, by the look on y/n's face that said she was waiting for a reaction, that he had to say something.

"You like me?" And all of a sudden he was gloating; even though he was being held for being the hyde, she could still bring light to him.

"I guess so."

"You think I'm charismatic?"

"Don't let it feed your ego. I had been thinking of staying longer, but I promise I'll leave if you're going to be like that." y/n stood up quickly and gradually became less opaque. Xavier had grabbed her wrist and stood up before she could get any further away.The action caused y/n to become fully visible again.

"I was just kidding," There was a loving look in his eyes. "Stay, please. I don't want to be alone." 

y/n moved and intertwined their hands, gently smiling up at him before bringing their hands up and giving his hand a kiss, earning a slight blush from Xavier. "Then I'll stay."

Taglist:

@getbillzoned @honeybubblepopp @mrskeery-mclaughlin @wonderlandco @alicews @l4venderia @navs-bhat @ariianelle @moose-ubi @lomllino @honey-with-tea @rayliz793 @moatsnow @s0ftdr1nks

#xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier x y/n #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe fanfiction #xavier thrope imagine #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thrope fanfic #wednesday series #wednesday xavier #wednesday fanfic #wednesday addams #wednesday 1993 #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #fluff #angst #xavier thorpe x reader smut #xavier thorpe smut #xavier smut #smut #x reader #percy hynes white #the gifted

[stargirlwritingjourney]

Perfect Gossip Snack

Fandom: Outer Banks

Pairing: Rafe Cameron/JJ Maybank

Rating: General Audiences

Warning/Tag(s): No Archive Warnings Apply, Stealing food, Sharing food, Eavesdropping

Summary: While working an underpaid job for a bunch of Kooks, JJ runs into some familiar faces and can't help but listen in. But in true JJ fashion, his job isn't done till he's left his mark.

Event(s): @eclipsingbingo with 'sharing food' | @fandom-free-bingo with 'are you obsessed with me?'

Can be read here

JJ's shift had been dragging on for what felt like hours. Scratch that, it had been hours. Clocking on for work just as the sun had begun rising and still working the same tables even though it was well-passed lunch made JJ question whether the extra cash was worth it.

Working for Kooks wasn't much of a bonus, not when they saw the ratty kid that he was and either turned their nose up at him, used him as an example for their children who were at least half his age, or tried to take him under their wings as if they were teaching him something. Though those Kooks were the ones who normally tipped a bit extra.

Checking the clock hooked onto the wall as he passed, JJ snatched a quick glimpse at the time. Finding himself with less than an hour left of his shift before he can make his way off Figure Eight and back to the Cut so he can relax for the remainder of the day.

But just as he was about to make his way past a table assigned to one of his coworkers and into the kitchen where he could waste a few minutes as he pretended to gather plates of food, he heard the whiny voice of someone familiar.

"She's your sister, Rafe," A voice he had been hoping to not hear for another good few months muttered in a defeated slum to the boy sitting across from him. Just the sound of his voice made JJ come to a halt, trying to make it look as natural as possible as he looked over at the table. "Can't you talk to her or something for me?"

"She likes you a lot more than she's ever liked me," Rafe responded to Topper's dejected stare, holding a laugh within his lips at all the fuss over his sister. JJ didn't know whether or not he should be surprised at the sight of the two being this was a Kook restaurant. Or perhaps he just couldn't believe how much bad luck he had."Just talk to her man, then you'll know there's no real fuss over John B."

"You're probably right," Topper agreed, taking a quick sip of his drink. The hand he used to lift his drink quickly came up to his temple, giving it a small rub as if just the thought of John B was giving him a headache. "I just can't understand what's so special about him to begin with."

"You know what Pogues are like," Rafe once again reassured, looking as if the conversation was boring him. "John B just happens to be one of the luckier ones."

"Couldn't help but notice you were talking about my boy over here," JJ proudly announced his presence, throwing all caution to the wind as he drew a seat over from an empty table and stationed it at Rafe and Topper's. Taking a heavy seat, he grins at the both of them, revelling in the disgusted looks that were thrown his way by the two. "You don't mind if I join this little chat, right?"

His face was one of innocence as he waited for a response. His eyes were wide, attempting to oversell himself though it only made him look more ridiculous.

Topper was gearing up to reject JJ's presence. His eyes flashed down to the uniform he was wearing and a foul twist of words sitting on his tongue ready to be spat. Rafe, however, beat him to it. With his lips quirking up and a shift in his seat so he was leaning back, Rafe said, "I don't see any harm in that. Maybe Maybank can give you some inside info, Topper."

"Maybe," Topper agreed, though he looked as if he had just eaten some mouldy bread, akin to what JJ had to eat that morning, and sitting near JJ was the last place he wanted to be. "So what do you have to say?"

"Say about what?" JJ questioned as if he hadn't been listening in to their conversation for the last few minutes.

"About Sarah and John B," Topper stated as if it was obvious. There was an exaggerated roll of his eyes that had his whole head spinning with them. "They've been hanging out more, haven't they? I can never get ahold of her because she's too busy running off with him."

"Oh, yeah, Sarah's 'round all the time," JJ grinned, a smile similar to the Chesire cats as he saw the disdain flash across Topper's face. It may have been a small lie, JJ never actually saw the girl but he knew John B was out and about with her, though Topper didn't need to know that. "I'm surprised they haven't completely skipped the talking stage and gone straight to third base now that she's dumped you. You'd think they would've with how they act around each other."

A sharp inhale through Topper's nose only widened JJ's grin as his head whipped around to face Rafe.

"I told you so," Topper hissed, annoyance clear on his face as he almost urgently whispered the words out as if JJ couldn't hear them. "She's already cozied up next to John B."

"Hey relax," Rafe tried to intervene, shooting JJ a look to tell him that he wasn't helping.

"Yeah, relax," JJ parroted his words, leaning a hand forward to quickly grab at a few of the fries on Rafe's plate. He was just quick enough to avoid being slapped on the wrist for his efforts. Waving the chips around as he spoke, JJ said, "They aren't together yet. You still have time to slither your way back in."

"Do you do this with all of your customers?" Rafe questioned, waiting for an answer from JJ and only continuing when all he got in return was a quirk of one of his brows. "Invite yourself over and then steal the food they've paid good money for?"

Eyes crinkling at the sides as he spoke with a smile, JJ teased, "Only the ones I like best."

Rafe seemed as if he was going to say more, his jaw tightening for half a second as he eyed JJ's face but was beaten to it before any words could even leave his mouth.

"JJ, stop slacking off just because you've been on your feet for a few hours," His boss's voice rang across the room, alerting him that his couple minutes chatting up the Kooks had gone noticed. "Do something productive for the last few minutes you're working."

"Yes sir," JJ jokingly saluted as he stood to his feet and quickly tucked the chair back to its rightful table. Turning back to his lovely guests, JJ couldn't help but snatch up a few more fries, daring as much to dip them in the sauce that Rafe had. Flicking it towards the blonde's face, a few droplets flying and smacking against him, JJ bid his farewell, not without having to hear Topper's distant call for more answers as he walked away, "I'll catch you two another day. It was fun talking about Topper's obsession with John B. Or maybe his obsession with me since John B just does everything I do but in a less cool manner. Are you obsessed with me Topped?"

#outer banks #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #rafe obx #obx jj maybank #outer banks jj #outerbanks rafe #jj maybank #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x jj maybank #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fluff #ao3 #fanfic #my writing #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #ao3fic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #topper thornton #sarah cameron #john b routledge #john b outer banks #sarah cameron obx #topper obx #eclipsing bingo #eclipsingbingo

[zirawrites]

Companions react to glitches! Engine shenanigans like violent ragdolling or flying cars, *that one* engine trick where you can fly on it, out-of-bounds, settlement structures defying all laws of nature, dupes, etc.

Cait: Cait watched in horror as the raider she shot flew upwards instead of falling on his back. Then he collapsed boneless in the road, his limbs at impossible angles. It was as if he hadn't weighed anything at all. Cait frowned and shook her head as if it would knock the image away. "I never saw any of this shit when I was on chems," she scowled.

Codsworth: Codsworth couldn't believe his three metal eyes. There were two settlers shopping at the same stall in Diamond City. Both women wore the same buttoned-down shirt with tattered jeans. Their dark hair was styled in matching ponytails. And they moved with identical motions; hands on their hips, heads scanning left-to-right across the wares, then folding their arms and simultaneously asking for a discount. "Um, sir/mum?" Codsworth nudged Sole to look at the identical settlers. "I can't imagine they're twins. Do you think...?" He didn't want to accuse anyone of being a synth, but their similarities were too close for comfort.

Curie: Curie had been staring at the brahmin with its heads stuck in a rock all afternoon. She had measured the animal. Drew its blood. Took its temperature. Finally, Curie relented and pulled Sole from an important meeting with the Minutemen. "I do apologize, Sole, but this could not wait. Look..." They both watched as the brahmin continued to walk forward, moving nowhere, half its body seemingly trapped not between anything, but inside the rock itself. "Do we call someone? I genuinely do not know what to do."

Danse: "Institute bastards!" Danse's profanity instantly roused the soldiers stationed at camp to their feet, but Sole made it to the front of the fold first. They watched as Danse fired at a charging gen 2 synth, and it was obvious why the paladin worried. Instead of a usual blank face, there was a chair protruding where the synth's head should be. Danse dispatched the synth quickly, then called Sole over to examine its body. "Look at this abomination," he spat. "What will those cretins think of next in the name of science?"

Deacon: Deacon was already afraid of heights. It was a miracle Sole convinced him to climb to the roof of the abandoned building already. But when he watched two raiders walk into each other and... stay inside themselves... each facing a different direction but walking toward the building, he wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke to Sole in a voice five octaves higher than usual. "Uh, hey partner? We gotta go. Now, if possible."

Hancock: The mayor wasn't sure if that car was floating because of the jet he hit an hour earlier or new Institute technology, but he didn't think it was his place to find out. Hancock simply turned away and walked silently back to Goodneighbor. Let some poor Brotherhood bastard find it first.

MacCready: MacCready shrieked and nearly climbed up Sole at the sight of the car pinwheeling towards them. It was as if the vehicle was weightless, and it clipped through the road itself. Sole pulled on the merc's arm and blindly rushed them both to the safety of an overpass, which the car moved through without noticing them. "What the... I just... I've never seen..." MacCready was speechless, all the breath having left his lungs from his scream moments ago.

Preston: "I know what I'm looking at, Sole. It's the why I still haven't figured out." Preston crossed his arms and stared at the water purifier with a jukebox sticking halfway through it. The pump was still active. And the stereo was playing the Ink Spots. He just couldn't understand how both were possible. "Is it a prank?" Preston asked, mainly to himself. "A very high-tech, creepy prank?"

Piper: "Blue! Blue, get in here!" Sole nearly knocked down the door reaching Piper, but quickly realized she wasn't in danger. In fact, the reporter was positively beaming as she gestured to a table full of purified water. "Look what happens!" Piper placed a water bottle in her satchel, and when she pulled it out, another one came with it. "They're somehow duplicating. Do I have a magic bag, or was the first water bottle special?" She hesitated. "Actually, if you answer that too fast I'll think you're a synth."

Nick: Nick felt like he was going insane. He had swallowed his pride to show Sole, but even they thought it was some elaborate hoax. "I'm telling you, kid. Every time I walk through the door my outfit changes. And when do you ever see me part with my signature coat?" Nick left the room and returned in a plain drifter outfit. He exited again and came back wearing a red sequined dress more befitting of Magnolia than a synth detective. "This is Deacon. I can't explain it. I don't even want to try. But point me to the church, because I'm about to give that spy the what-for."

X6-88: X6 had been in the Institute infirmary all day. Sole stood anxiously by his side, reading his charts and advocating for him to doctors. It was no use. He had holstered his gun, but somehow his arm stayed suspended in the air; hand formed as if still squeezing the trigger. "They may need to replace my defective arm," he stated flatly, trying not to react to the raw emotion in Sole's eyes. "You can't expect me to defend you looking like a gunless cowboy, now can you? People might start approaching me thinking I'm a Minuteman." Sole laughed at that.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 reactions #maccready #nick valentine #fallout 4 curie #fallout 4 cait #piper wright #x6-88 #preston garvey #deacon fallout 4 #paladin danse #codsworth #hancock

[queenofbaws]

Hey Queenie! Hope you're having a good weekend :) You *know* I can't resist the chance to ask for some LauraMax writing from you, so... ^^; For the injury prompts: 21 + LauraMax, please? 🥺👉👈

"Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay..."

The words had stopped making sense an hour ago, if he had to guess. They'd been chopped up and turned to gibberish by virtue of his own tired tongue, but in his head it pattered on and on like the raindrops drumming the dock around him.

"Please be okay, please be okay, pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease be okay..."

The lake wasn't that big. Or at least it hadn't seemed that way when they'd crashed into it earlier in the day, sinking Officer Whatshisfuck's cruiser into what they'd hoped was the deepest part. To get from the island to the shore, you probably had to swim - what - five minutes? Ten? And taking a boat would cut that in half easy, but...but it felt like a lifetime since he'd seen those very first ripples lapping up against the dock.

If that was Laura coming for him (and he knew in his heart that it was, knew in that sappy, gooey way people always seemed to know things when they were in love), she was taking a long time to get there. A long, long time.

There was a smell in the air too, one he kept trying to ignore but couldn't; heavy and ominous, sunken low beneath the green, green scent of forest rain, there was blood. There was death. And not just a little bit.

"Please, please, please..."

He couldn't stop thinking of the footage he'd been forced to watch, the way his hand had lashed out, the way Laura had rocked back, hands clapped to her face and mouth open wide in a scream there hadn't been any microphones to pick up. There'd been enough of her under his nails the next day to prove it had happened, but it wasn't until she'd let him out of his cell that he'd believed it - she'd smiled through the bandages, but all he'd seen was the dark, discolored smudge where her eye had been gouged.

Something similar had happened when he'd woken up in the treehouse: There was a taste in his mouth, not just on his tongue but under it, between each and every one of his teeth. He knew what it was, of course, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. Not head-on. Not yet. Maybe that made him a coward; maybe it made him an optimist.

The boat drew nearer, now a dark little blob against the water. The sky above had gone purple-grey with the first promise of dawn. She was still too far for him to make out.

"Please."

He could've bitten anyone. He could've. But that soft spot in his heart told him it'd been her. It made too much sense, it lined up with his track record: He'd crashed the car, after all, and he'd crumpled in the basement, and he'd taken her eye, and he'd let her down in a million other tiny ways. Why not in this way?

The smell of blood kept getting thicker. The reek of death got worse and worse. It felt like proof the curse hadn't been broken, that he was just dreaming this...but the way he'd gnawed through his lip, his nails, the cuticles of his fingers until they ached and tiny droplets of blood started welling, all seemed to suggest otherwise.

Somehow, he was human despite the moon still hanging over the horizon.

Somehow, the curse had been brought to a close.

Somehow, they'd escaped.

Somehow, Laura was coming for him.

Somehow, she was okay. He hoped. And hoped.

And hoped.

"Pleasepleaseplease..."

The boat came to rest against the dock.

#theartofdreaming1 #six sentence weekend #the quarry #lauramax #queenie writes supermassive #hehehe ahhh ty vicky!!! i hope you're having a fantastic weekend yourself!!!

[elsfairy]

love the sevika kinks, but what about something small she enjoys that you do? or in general?

───── PLAYING WITH HER HAIR. Ofc at the start of your relationship she's going to be hesitant about you touching her, even her hair. But, personally, I think when she is comfortable then getting her hair played with is something that eases her. Working insane hours would make her go insane, so just to come home to find you curled up on the couch? that woman is sluggishly stumbling over to you with a tired smile. She doesn't have to say much, it's how she sits on the floor in front of you, sighing that gives it away. Just having your fingers running through her hair? god, she adores it. "I think you're starting to like it when I play with your hair, Vika" Of course she does, you relax her.

───── FOREHEAD KISSES. Doesn't matter if she's half asleep or wide awake, she is letting you kiss her forehead. Okay but, I think she would prefer them when she's waking up or still sleepy, to feel your lips just pressing small kisses onto her skin??? Something that makes her just lean back into your arms, wanting to fall back asleep because they are perfect. It was the small things you did with her and for her, that made her melt even harder for you. She was also just obsessed with you kissing her, every chance you could get. "Feels good, making me more tired though"

───── BACK RUBS/SCRATCHES. More or less when she's gotten home late from work. You have a tendency to stay awake just to make sure she gets back safe, and that nothing is wrong and you worried about her a lot so. Honestly, sometimes she can't be bothered to shower the second she steps foot into the bedroom so half the time, she's slumping onto the empty side of your shared bed, huffing into your shoulder. She didn't have to tell you what she wanted, you figured it out every time by the way she curled into your side, shoving her face into your neck. Sevika liked that your nails were longer, but obviously wouldn't tell you the reason why until the first time you lightly trailed your fingers up and down her spin. She would quietly giggle or hum. She loved the way you would rub her back after such a long, and stressful day. Or just the way you drew random patterns on her skin. Just loved the way your hands felt on her. "You're falling asleep, this relaxing you that much hm?"

───── HAND HOLDING. Believe it or not, but she basked in being able to hold your hand. That woman could be so angry, or just in a sour mood but if you grabbed her hand, gripping tightly then everything reason as to why she was mad,would slip away. She would relax, and become putty at your touch (literally). When you would brush your thumb over her knuckles? or when you press your lips to them when you are deep in thought? she's a fucking goner. She loves that shit. After a while into your relationship, of course. She wouldn't instantly let you be that affectionate. It took her a little longer to adjust, but she was happy in the end. "Your hands are huge, but that's okay. I love them, and you"

───── BACK HUGS. She adored this the most. Whenever she was doing something important, and you would sneak up behind her before wrapping your arms around her waist, she blushed. She blushed at whatever you did to her, or with her but this always got her melting. Holding onto your arms with her own hands, chuckling at your rambled words that was muffled by her shirt. It made her feel warmer than she already was. If she could have you wrapped around her body all day, she fucking would. She loved having you so close to her, keeping her safe. "You're so warm, don't think you can go to work today, sorry Vika"

#my asks #sevika imagine #sevika x you #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #sevika headcanon #bottom sevika #bottom sevika supremacy

[sazzujazzu]

Hello, as the days count down and the Bad Batch finale draws closer, may I show to the fine folks of tumblr my first Star Wars OC in 20 years, created thanks to this show? 😃

Too bad, I'm showing them anyway 😊 somberly chilling while listening to their bestie talk.

Please excuse the poor background (I got lazy) and half-finished Tech (I got sad)

there's, uh, a big mess of words under the image because I wanted to put into words the importance this show has for me, and I am bad at doing so.

I want to get some thoughts off my chest, because I have no one in my day-to-day life who cares about the animated Star Wars shows, and especially the Bad Batch. (well, other than my mom, but I don't want to bore her with my rambling too much. she already banned star wars from me once, i won't let that happen again lol)

I can't stop thinking how much I don't want Bad Batch to end.

This show has been so dear to me. I can't remember the last time I've loved something this much.

Before the second season started, I had an artistic block that had lasted way too long. Anything I drew or wrote, mostly turned out a horrible mess after staring at a blank page for hours and hours, if I ever managed to create anything at all. For someone who tends to draw whenever their hands aren't otherwise busy (aka all the damn time), such a block weighed down on my mental health.

Well, then season two happened, and full-on gave me back my love for Star Wars, a love that had somewhat gone out over the last few years. Then, Plan 99 happened, and broke me because again my favorite character "died" (I'm in team Tech lives until I draw my last breath or until proven correct. That chocolate-eyed cutie-pie is alive nothing will convince me otherwise). Pretty much after finishing the episode and staring at a wall for another 30 minutes, I said "nope" and began writing.

I wrote for hours. I believe it's been well over a decade since I last wrote fanfiction, but here I was, creating a Star Wars oc, something I'd last done as a ten-year-old. And now, roughly a year later, I think I've written over a hundred pages of (very self-indulgent) fanfiction with the Batch, and with my oc that I've come to love.

And drawing, oh boy, have I been drawing!

(... Sure, I've mostly been drawing Tech, over and over again, to a point I once actually considered lying and saying "yeah that's my boyfriend haha!" to a man at my job last summer, when asked who it was that I was drawing for maybe fifth day in a row 😂 likely would've been a more acceptable excuse for someone my age. But, I mean... I just really love drawing him, not only because he is my favorite character of maybe all time, but because he is just so fun to draw! And most of all, at least I draw again!)

And it is all thanks to this wonderful show about a bunch of defective and effective copy-paste boys and their sister.

It's probably something many say, but I've always felt like a bit of an outsider. I've felt like I have no place; when I was a kid, my interests were very different from the other kids of [gender assigned at birth], and trying to play with them while inserting my own interests into the games, often didn't go so well. I was... kind of an odd child (although now, older and questionably wiser, knowing that I might actually be autistic, many things make more sense now. me kind of discovering this about myself is also partially thanks to Bad Batch)

Also, growing up trans/non-binary, while not even knowing what that is or having a word for it, didn't really do much to help with the feeling of "I'm different and an outsider because of it". Perhaps it was one more reason I fell in love with Clone Force 99, because I could see some of myself in them. Being different from the "regs".

I love this show, and these fictional people have become my family, and I am not ready to say goodbye to them.

Alright, weird pile of thoughts over. In case someone read all this, uh... thanks 😊

#i'm nervously rambling into the void #the bad batch #the bad batch fanart #star wars oc #jedi oc

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (51)

part 51 of 55 | 1894 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Robin can’t believe what she’s hearing.  That Eddie, who knows a thing or two (hundred) about being treated like a freak, who’d fought with them in the trenches of saving the world from unknown horrors, would do something like that. To Steve. 

You'll notice I have at least an estimate for the final chapter count now. I always love seeing notes like this on other fics, where the author is like "Okay I think it's just one more chapter guys" and you glance up to the fic info on the Ao3 page and there's definitely like, five more. We'll see how well my optimism ages.

Anyway, have some protective Robin rage from her POV!

51.

The phone rings late a few nights after Starcourt, jolting Robin out of an uneasy sleep. She shoots out of bed, racing for it before her parents wake up. She manages to get downstairs and down the hall in just a few more rings and snatch it up.

“Hello?” she whispers. 

“Robin?”

Her hands clench on the plastic handset at the sound of Steve Harrington’s voice coming down the line. “Steve!? What’s wrong, are you okay? Did something happen?”

“‘M fine,” Steve rushes to assure her, stumbling over his words. “I’m fine. I just. . . . I’m calling to say I’m sorry. For dragging you into this shit, 's my fault because you were working with me, and Dustin can’t talk quiet worth a damn, and. . . . I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

Okay, not so much stumbling as slurring. Okay. Steve Harrington is calling her drunk in the middle of the night. Sure, that’s a relatively normal thing to happen after . . . everything. 

“Have you been drinking?” Robin hisses. “You’re drinking with a head injury?”

“I’m, ‘m drinkin’ by myself,” Steve mumbles, and he sounds so young when he says it. She wants to crawl through the phone line and hold his hand. 

“Where are your parents?”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and then Steve says, “On a business trip.”

“Still? I thought you called them.”

“Yeah, they. . . . It’s an important trip. Meeting. Thing, I d’know.”

Robin chews on her bottom lip. On one hand, she barely knows Steve, really. She has no idea what his home life is like, but it doesn’t seem great that his parents know about his concussion, broken ribs, etc. but still didn't bother to come home and look after him. That’s what parents are supposed to do.

On the other, this is the guy who loudly drew the Russians’ attention so they took him for interrogation instead of her. And even if that was plain old sexism on the Russians' part, he’d still run his mouth even after being pummeled, insisting that she wouldn’t tell them anything. They’d almost pulled off his fingernails, for fuck’s sake.

“Steve,” Robin says firmly. “I can get to your place in fifteen minutes on my bike, okay? I’m gonna hang up and do that, and can you do me a favor while I do?”

“Of course Robs, anything,” Steve slurs easily, and goddammit. This dingus is going to end up being her best friend, isn’t he?

“Drink a glass of water for me while you’re waiting, okay?”

“Okay,” he replies. She can practically hear him nodding, which also can't be good for the already bruised brain knocking around in there.

She gets there in under ten, discarding her bike halfway up the driveway and darting up to the front door in case any of the neighbors are awake at this hour. It’s unlocked, and for a moment she’s frozen with terror at that fact—what if the Russians are back and they’ve tracked Steve down? What if they’re here? 

But then she goes inside and finds Steve in the most bland foyer she’s ever seen, sitting on the carpeted stairs with his head in one hand and a half empty glass of water in the other. He looks up at her approach, eye and cheek and lip still swollen. It looks like he got chewed on and spit back out, and all she can think of is how small his voice had sounded over the phone. 

Mr. Popular, Mr. Cool, cries on her shoulder while telling her how sorry he is again. He tells her about Nancy’s friend Barb and how she died in an alternate version of his pool because he’d thrown a stupid party. He tells her about bullshit  and like we didn’t kill Barb and Nancy leaving him for Jonathan Byers until he’s hiccuping—

When he throws up on her shoes he apologizes for that too, and she womanhandles him upstairs to his room and the attached bathroom with her thoughts racing. 

Steve Harrington used to be a total douchebag. She hadn’t been wrong about that. But this is a totally different Steve, stumbling and full of guilt and a hefty portion of his dad’s liquor cabinet. This is, actually, a lot like Steve on Russian truth drugs. (There’s even a bathroom this time too, Steve hunched over the toilet and Robin trying to keep his hair out of harm’s way.) This is the boy who doesn’t treat her like a freak for liking girls instead of guys. The only person she’s ever told her secret, and isn’t holding it over her head the way she’s always had nightmares about. (Her nightmares have plenty of new material to work with now, anyway.)

He’s all alone, and not taking very good care of himself when left to his own devices after a buttload of fresh trauma, from the looks of it. So. 

Robin is going to be here for him as much as she needs. Not because she owes him or anything, but because this Steve deserves to have someone relentlessly in his corner. And since his parents seem to have abdicated that responsibility, that someone will just have to be her.

-

Robin can’t believe what she’s hearing. 

That Eddie, who knows a thing or two (hundred) about being treated like a freak, who’d fought with them in the trenches of saving the world from unknown horrors, would do something like that. To Steve. 

But there’s also Wayne Munson, who she knows now. Not as well as Steve, who looks more comfortable in this house than she’d ever seen him back in his parents’ place, but he’s a good person. A kind man, someone she can’t fault Steve for helping to save. 

The two things don’t fit in her head, and she has to pace while trying to wrap her brain around it because otherwise she feels like she might explode. 

“Okay,” she says, finally wheeling on him with a glare. “Okay. So you knowingly let some guy blackmail you, homophobically and hypocritically, because you thought he was hot and Dustin was sad?”

“Well—”

“And,” she interrupts shrilly, “you didn’t tell me. You hid not having enough money to eat—”

“I still ate,” Steve protests. “And I learned to make all those casseroles, you love those!”

Robin storms back over to the couch. There aren’t any decorative pillows like there had been at his parents house, because the Munsons don’t go in for that extra frills sort of shit. She snatches one of the cushions instead and thumps him on the head with it, making him drop his pizza in his lap.

“Aw shit, toppings side down. . . .”

“Steve,” she snaps. 

He looks up, holding the rescued slice in his hand and licking a glob of red sauce he’d scraped off his jeans off his other thumb. “I didn’t tell you,” he agrees, voice heavy. “You would’ve tried to talk me out of it and I couldn’t just. . . . Not after Barb.”

“Just because Nancy said so doesn’t mean what happened to Barb was your fault, Steve,” Robin reminds him. She's about ready to throw the entire cushion at him in frustration because they’ve had so many talks about that now. Has none of it stuck?! “But guilt or not, that doesn’t make what Eddie did okay!”

“I know,” Steve says quickly. He’s got those big damn puppy dog eyes that all but bleed sincerity. “I know it’s not okay. And that it’s not my fault about Barb.” There’s pepperoni and veggies on his leg; he starts picking them up and putting them back on his pizza. “I didn’t know that if I’d done something different, she might not have died. But I knew that about this, okay? Eddie was working himself to death and it still wasn’t enough, and I knew I could help.” 

The without getting the shit kicked out of me goes unspoken, but Robin knows his track record with that and can read between the lines. It’s almost definitely the easiest time he’s had saving a life since 1983.

But still.

"Blackmail isn't the cornerstone of a stable loving relationship, Steve!"

“I know.” Steve sighs, and goes to rake a hand through his hair before remembering just in time that it’s covered in pizza sauce and grease. “I know. . . . We’ve saved each other's lives though, Rob. And we’ve talked it all out, okay?”

She frowns, squeezing the couch cushion in frustration. “Not okay.”

“Come on. I know it was a shitty thing to do, and so does Eddie. You forgave me for years of being a douchebag, can’t you forgive him for this one thing?”

One thing. One thing, when said thing was threatening to out someone? Holding it against their throat, against Steve’s throat, like a broken bottle with actual intent to spill blood? How could she possibly, possibly not hold that against Eddie, when just the thought of it made her adrenaline spike and pulse race because being forcibly outed in Hawkins fucking Indiana is literally her own worst nightmare?!

Or, well. One of.

Steve is still giving her the damn puppy dog eyes. He looks so sad, whereas he’d looked so happy a moment ago, in a dumb, goofy, sappy way that she’d never quite seen from him about any of the parade of girls he’d gone out with since after Starcourt. It’s almost as though he thinks his epic quest to find The One (she can never help but crack a smile when she thinks of it as ‘finding his Suzie,’ and she’s upset right now, dammit, this is no time for grinning) has finally come to an end.

With Eddie Munson, who until ten minutes ago she would have said was a nerdy but perfect match for him. 

And, okay. She doesn’t want to be the reason Steve looks sad. He’s old enough to make his own decisions, and if he seems happy with them then it’s not up to her to rip that happiness to shreds, even over perfectly reasonable concerns. 

After a long moment Robin drops back into the couch next to him, clutching the cushion to her chest. “I still wish you’d told me. I would’ve shared my food with you. I would’ve known not to bum off of yours, and forced you to take gas money!”

“Robs, no,” Steve groans, then shoves a big bite of his messed up pizza slice in his mouth and keeps talking around it. “I told you a million times, I don’t want to be treated like a taxi driver.”

As if she doesn’t know for a fact that he threatens Dustin and the rest of the kids that he’s going to start charging for rides at least once a week. He’d explained to her once—after a night hanging out with Argyle and the rest of the older Hawkins crew, and everything had been hilarious at the time—that he doesn’t want the little shits to take it for granted and act as entitled as he used to.

Steve Harrington is too fucking good for his own good these days, even if he is a total dingus about it a lot of the time. 

And she’ll deal with Eddie later. Right now she’s hanging out with her best friend, and that’s far more important than putting the fear of Robin into a skinny metalhead.

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #robin pov #protective robin #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steve harrington #somewhere across town eddie is definitely freaking out

[aldbooks]

hello! how are you? How were your days off?I hope you enjoyed ☺️☺️Am I coming to ask for your writing? 🙈🙈 I can't help it 😃Would it be possible that you have one of Elain jealous hidden there? I need something like this to be able to continue my week ☺️☺️Thanks for creativity 😌😌

Hello! Thank you. My time off was very nice, wish I'd had more of it but don't we always?

Sorry this took a little bit to get to, I was very busy this week. Let's see what we can do. How about a snippet of a scene from a work I'm currently drafting. It may or may to remain in the final draft.

"You're staring," drawled Helion, suddenly appearing beside her.

Elain clutched the goblet of fae wine in her hand tighter in an attempt not to flinch as she was ripped out of her thoughts. "What?" she asked, a bit harsher than she intended.

Helion's golden eyes sparkled down at her in amusement before raising to where her gaze had been glued just a moment before. On the fire haired prince lounging across the room in his new throne, surrounded by fawning females.

One of them, an olive skinned female with silky dark curls and sensual curves was bold enough to plant herself in his lap, stroking her fingers through the open collar of his shirt.

It irked her. Irked her that these females acting like he was their property when they'd only been introduced mere minutes before. Irked her that he did not stop the female's explorations of his body in such a blatant manner. Irked her that he smiled and laughed at whatever she said in a way he'd never done with her...

Holy hells... she was jealous. An emotion she'd never experienced in connection with her erstwhile mate.

"If you disapprove of the attention he's getting," Helion mused. "You could just- turn away. Or... you could do something about it."

Elain sputtered. "I- couldn't care less what he does. He is free to do as he pleases. He certainly doesn't need my approval."

"Indeed? Is that why you've been drilling holes into each female who has dared to approach him for the last half hour?"

"I have not," Elain said, even as her gaze bored into the face of yet another female, a blonde this time, leaned against the unoccupied arm of his chair, thrusting her bosom in his face as she pushed aside of lock of his hair and toyed with the earring at the tip of his pointed ear.

She sat on his left where his golden eye roved over her, though she appeared undeterred by the gruesome scars covering half of his face. None of them seemed deterred by it. Many even seemed to be enamored of the scars. As she watched, the blond ran a red tipped nail across his brow, skimming the edge of the scars and made some comment that drew a smirk from him.

Elain realized she was glaring as Helion said dryly, "of course not."

"You approve of this behavior?" she asked, just barely keeping the snap out of her tone. "He is your heir, a prince. You believe this is appropriate behavior of a representative of this court?"

Helion gave her a dry look. "Flower, you've been in my court long enough ow to know the answer to that. I came by my reputation honestly, after all. Like father, like son."

Elain felt her cheeks flame hot as anger surged. She had indeed been in the Day Court long enough to know exactly what sort of mischief Helion liked to get up to, though he had not engaged in any of it since receiving word of Beron's death in anticipation of finally claiming his mate. The thought of Lucien doing any of the things she'd seen Helion do...

Helion laughed, reading her thoughts. "If it bothers you so much," he lifted a brow. "Do something about it."

Elain gulped the last few swallows of wine in her cup hoping they would cool her and knowing they would do the opposite. Before she had time to think, she slammed the cup down on the tray of a passing server and pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring Helion's deep chuckle that followed her.

When she reached the dias, everyone stilled, looking curiously at her. Lucien watched her with the same sardonic smile he'd worn each time they were in company since his arrival. The female in his lap sneered at her and Elain had to fight the instinct to snarl.

"Lady Elain," Lucien drawled, lounging in his seat. "Are you enjoying your evening?"

Elain dipped a polite curtsey before meeting his burning gaze. "My lord, I believe you promised me the next dance."

For a long moment, they held each others stare as she waited to see if he would play along with her game or reject her. Lucien's head cocked to the side, studying her like an interesting insect and she felt her cheeks begin to burn with humiliation. He was going to say no. Why shouldn't he? She'd humiliated him all those years ago, turn about was fair play.

Just as she prepared to slink away in shame, Lucien grinned. "So I did."

Elain's relief was profound but short lived as he raised the hands of each female on either side of him to his lips and gave them a kiss. "Forgive me, cherie. It seems I have other obligations."

With a wink and a charming smile at the other ladies around him, He gently set aside the one in his lap and rose, stepping down to stand before Elain. Holding out his hand, he bowed slightly as the final chords of the song playing ended and the dancers prepared for the next. "My lady."

There was a hard edge to the words that let her know exactly how pleased he was with her interruption of his evening's entertainment but he was far too polite to ought but acquiesce to a lady's request.

Laying her hand in his, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor and was further humiliated to realize the next dance was one of the more sensual variety that required partners to move in wholly indecent holds and patterns. A lover's dance. But there was nothing for it now.

She gasped slightly when Lucien's warm hand slid around her waist and pulled her against him, his thumb brushing over the skin of her exposed back. She could feel the muscles of his arm beneath the soft fabric of his shirt as he hand came to rest on his bicep. Her body was pressed fully against his torso and, when they took their first step, his thigh pressed between hers, rubbing against her with each movement.

The hand holding hers gripped it tightly as fire sparked in his eyes but his steps were flawless as he led her through the dance executing perfect dips and turns and lifts, their bodies brushing together all the while until he was breathless and on fire.

When the music came to an end, he hauled her against him for the final pose with one of her legs wrapped around his hip as he leaned back so only the toe of her shoe was on the ground and he was fully supporting her against him, their nose less than an inch apart.

A wave of desire clouded her senses as his spicy, warm scent enveloped her and his lips feathers over her cheek as he brought them to her ear. "Don't ever, ask me to do that again," he hissed before setting her on her feet and turning away with a curt bow.

Elain stood int he middle of the dance floor, stunned and breathless she watched him stalk out of the ballroom.

#ask box #elucien #lucien x elain #elain x lucien #elain and lucien #lucien and elain

[chiefbeifongcanrailme]

Heavy Is The Head

Here's prompt #7: Thinking about how they have all the qualities you'd like in a partner. I'm so close to finishing this series!

Tall.

Lin bit her bottom lip as he walked into the room.

Kind.

His gray eyes shone brighter even than his wide smile.

Sweet.

"Lin, it's good to see you. You look radiant, as usual." he had a standard greeting at this point.

Lin cleared her throat as he took a seat across her desk.

They exchanged a polite nod before Tenzin crossed his forearms in front of him and leaned forward. He tilted his head to one side like a lost polarbear puppy and Lin had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from grinning.

Honest.

"How was your trip?" She asked.

Tenzin sat up in his seat and replied, "It was great! Chameleon bay this time of year is beautiful."

"I told you so." Lin chanced a proud smirk.

"It would've been even more stunning if you were there with me." he said softly.

The Chief raised her eyebrows at that.

"Really," he smiled genuinely as he continued, "Sea and shore aside, the food was delicious- just the way you like it, and the people-"

"You were there for three days, Tenzin." she almost chuckled, "How did you find the time to meet new people? Were the kids not keeping you busy?"

Tenzin caught her mirth, "Well, the kids were the ones making friends with all the locals. Now, I'm going to have to get them each a messenger hawk to write to all their new friends because I cannot afford these long distance radio calls anymore."

Lin rolled her eyes with humor.

"But truly, Lin," he sighed, "Three days, three weeks or even three hours, I missed you so much."

A sense of humor.

"How's Pema doing?"

Tenzin snorted.

She bit her lip to hide her laugh, but Tenzin knew her better.

"She's fine, I am told."

"Oh good." Lin replied with nonchalance.

"I also hear she's got more gray hair than you." he added mischievously.

"Is that supposed to flatter me, master airbender?" she raised an eyebrow playfully.

"I'm just providing you with the facts, Chief Beifong." he gave her a toothy grin.

"Oh, Tenzin." Lin shook her head, "What I would have given to hear you talk about her like that about twenty years ago."

"Oh, my love," he smiled knowingly, "The only thing I could do as much as love you, is trash her."

"Shut up!" She tossed a crumpled piece of paper in his direction.

Patient.

"Would you like to get dinner once you're through with work?"

Lin shrugged, "I don't know, Tenz. I have a lot-"

He ran his fingers between hers on the table and squeezed her hand, "Please?"

Lin huffed, eyeing her trapped knuckles.

"Kuong's?" he suggested.

"Tenzin, I told you, I don't want to move too fast. I want to take my time before I jump into this thing with you again." she sighed, "But spirits, you make it so hard."

"My dear, you're the one making it hard. You're killing me, Beifong." he feigned a lackluster sigh before winking at her.

Lin shook her head, half in adoration and half in utter ridicule for this man.

"You won't let me be with you and I cannot do without you. What's a man got to do?" he asked kindly.

"Grow your hair." she replied in the same beat, "I'd like something to tug on when you.." the salacious grin filled in the blanks.

"Done." Tenzin smirked back.

A head full of hair.

About two months later, within the warm embrace of the other, Tenzin drew out a long breath. Lin was lying on her side, her head on his arm and her hand rising and falling slowly with his chest.

"I can't believe you actually did this," she commented, threading her fingers through the thick brown hair that rippled over his tattoo.

"I would do anything for you." he replied, nuzzling his nose against hers.

"As would I."

"I know," he replied. He placed his thumb on her bottom lip and caressed it slowly.

"Did you know that I'm falling for you now? That I'm in love with you?"

At that, Tenzin ran his arm around her back and pulled her closer to his body.

"And all it took was a head full of hair." she added teasingly.

"You know what they say," Tenzin chuckled as he kissed her shoulder, "Heavy is the head.."

"With hair?" she snorted.

"With Lin Beifong on their mind. You're all consuming, head and heart and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you." he replied with a kiss to her temple.

#lin beifong #chief beifong #linzin #tenzin #They're just too perfect