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shrenvents · 4 months

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Hi love, you have an amazing imagination, and I love your writing style. I was wondering if you could maybe do some more with Wolverine. I'm in that x men stage again. And I loved you last piece of work on him. Maybe you could do a continuation of it or think of something completely new. Anyway, dont feel pressured ❤️

A/N: ur actually so sweet, thank uu! I'm also rlly shocked but appreciative of all the love Professor Howlett received, so u don't even have to ask twice for more, it's my pleasure ;)

Divided Attention

Professor Howlett II

Part one

Warnings: minors dni, Smut, fluff, language, jealousy, (legal) age gap, oral, f!receiving, semi-public

Pairing: Logan x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Things were going well with you and Logan, until he suddenly put distance between you both, acting strangely. On top of that, you catch him threatening one of your fellow classmates and have no choice, but to face your issues, head-on.

Word count: 2.6k

…

Any small moment together, Logan and I chased. The little highs we could derive from our busy schedules, we eagerly pursued.

From a quickie in the janitor's closet, a make-out session after class, or a passionate sleepover, Logan consumed every inch of my life. He was consuming every bit of my mind, and an ominous trepidation was closing in, alongside him.

The more I saw him, the greedier I became. Desperate to see and feel more of him, beyond the surface. So, it was no surprise, that I soon desired something more from our casual relationship.

With graduation just around the corner, I was almost home free. Free to outwardly tell him what I yearned for.

But the concern that racked my brain constantly, that trepidation, was whether he wanted the same.

As I was getting to know him, it was clear there were parts of him I had yet to discover, parts he seemed reluctant to reveal. Sometimes he would be open, close by my side. The next second, he would shut down.

What made matters worse, was that recently, he hadn't sought me out. It's felt as though he's no longer hungry for those small moments, that I still very much craved.

Now I'm on edge and have no clue what he's thinking, or what he thinks of us.

...

The day started like any other. I went to each class, exhausted and disinterested, till that afternoon. Something caught my eye, and the eyes of the school's populace: Logan pinning a male student to the wall of the vast, oak wood hallway.

They speak in hushed tones to one another, and the boy looks beyond frightened, while Logan looks ready to tear his head from his scrawny neck.

It takes only a moment for my alarm to pass, and for me to note, that this boy sits next to me in history.

A sharp intake of breath hitches in my throat.

His name's Mikey, and he has been a nuisance to Logan from the get-go, long before our intimate affair. Labelled as the class clown, Mikey uses his obnoxious voice and meddling powers to disturb Logan's lessons, daily. To top it off, Mikey consistently bothers me, mimicking what I say, and staring at my profile, for far too long.

Just when Logan dips his head closer to Mikey, perhaps to rip out his jugular, like the predator he is, Scott interjects.

"Logan! Drop him!" When Scott's unnerved voice orders Logan, my eyes snap to Mikey's feet, which are spraddled in the air, dangling for dear life.

I guess a few days apart made me forget just how strong he is. Maybe he's just too gentle with me to remember.

As his feet slowly lower to the floor, gasps and murmurs flood the halls, and my head frantically shoots around, surprised by the crowd of avid onlookers.

Eyes anxiously surveying the students, I hone in on Logan again, flinching when seeing his pupils, already fixed on me.

He releases Mikey immediately, retracting from him while Scott grabs his bicep, heatedly whispering into his ear, and Mikey scrambles away.

Logan's eyes shy from mine and my mouth gaps. He almost looks, embarrassed. 'Huh?'

Soon, other teachers arrive to intervene, shooing students from the crime scene.

So, aimlessly wandering outside, into the courtyard, hoping to clear my head, I think back on our classes together. Every time Mikey acted up, Logan seemingly couldn’t care less, looking more spent overall, than unsettled by his brazen jokes.

It was kind of funny, seeing Mikey quaking in his boots at the older male. It was only yesterday, that he spoke to me with such forwardness, and to Logan with such rudeness, carrying that typical smug expression -it was nice to see it wiped clean.

I laugh to myself, disbelieving what just transpired. I can only imagine what errand Professor Xavier will make Logan do to atone, or what bonding exercise he and Mikey may perform...

While I trudge down the stone steps, onto the vivid green field, I spot the devil himself, Mikey. He sits under the shade of a grand willow tree, dome hung between his bent knees.

Feeling rather empathetic, I stroll towards him, stopping in front of his feet. Evidently noticing my bright attire, his head pops up, and his dewy eyes widen.

"You alright?" I ask warily and his bottom lip trembles. He sniffs once, toughening up before responding, "I'm good." I nod, then look at the endless landscape to my right. "Whatever you did must've really been something, Mr. Howlett's rarely that peeved."

"You're telling me," he huffs sarcastically, sounding pained. Shifting, I sit beside him, maintaining some space. "If you don't mind me asking, what was that about?" Mikey pauses, thinking hard.

"No clue," he mumbles pitifully. I gawk at him, brows creasing. He peers at me and copies my appearance. "I'm not lying," he exclaims defensively. "There's no way," I retort, scoffing.

"If you don't fucking believe me, why ask," Mikey spits, mumbling "bitch" as he shoots to stomp off.

Suspiring, my crown gingerly falls onto the tree's trunk. Finding comfort in its rugged bark, I calmly savour the crisp air.

I close my eyes, for what feels like a few minutes until a fierce call of my name grips my consciousness. Eyelids cracking open, my vision focuses on Mr. Howlett himself, standing in all his glory, glaring down at me with a brooding look.

"If it isn't the man of the hour," I giggle humourlessly, straightening my spine, but choosing not to stand and seem intimidated, like he evidently wishes me to be.

"You have a nice chat?" Logan questions with an irked tone, obviously remarking on my 'chat' with Mikey. 'Was he watching us?'

I tilt my head defiantly. "I'm not picking sides," I raise both hands in surrender, smiling from ear to ear. His eye faintly twitches, and I nearly gulp. He grumbles incomprehensible nonsense, then chooses to stay relatively quiet, which is unlike him.

"Do you have something to say? Or are you just gonna stand there?" I inquire venomously.

Clearly dispising my attitude, he concentrates on my face, scowling. His features have rage written all over them, but I refuse to bow out of this impending feud.

He grumbles under his breath again, and I break.

"Speak up!" I shout, swiftly bringing my gaze to our surroundings, making sure we're alone -which is something Logan clearly isn't worried about.

"What the fuck do you two have to talk about?" He just about growls and I tense, stunned. My face contorts with perplexity. "Me and Mikey?" I question, and his eyebrows nearly conjoin in response. "Not much, just discussing you're outburst," heaving, I continue, "though he didn't have much to say on the topic," sighing, "you?"

His nostrils flare slightly, and I do my best to appear composed. "What else have you talked about?" He grunts, and I roll my eyes, rising to my feet, bored with our conversation. "What's it to you?" I ask rhetorically, internally referring to the distance he'd been building between us.

Moving elsewhere, I roughly brush past his shoulder. He doesn't immediately reply, but trails after me as I march further into the courtyard.

"The fuck you on about?" Logan vulgarly rumbles, and I forget to speak.

My pace then staggers when he delicately wraps his digits over my forearm, tugging me, almost cautiously, backward.

Square to him, I discern his thumb tracing my skin lightly, before finally looking at him. He examines his finger as it sweeps across my flesh. "Logan?" I carefully utter, and his eyes stay glued to where our bodies meet.

"Why do you talk to him," he pauses, snarling with emphasis on 'talk,' yet again. Then he murmurs, "-When you have me?" He’s so quiet, that the words are barely audible. My features instantly soften. “Are you,” I hesitate, “Jealous?”

When he doesn’t answer, I gasp so loud, that my palm slaps over my mouth. He looks around, avoiding eye contact as I grasp the situation. “Did you threaten Mikey 'cause he yaps to me in class?”

Logan scorned the very idea of jealousy, cruising his head in a circle, to showcase his exasperation. I smirk uncontrollably and he snits. "Don't flatter yourself Princess," he remarks blatantly. My smirk only expands. "I can't believe you," I laugh hysterically and he motions like he's going to walk away, but he stays put, and I know I've won.

"Don't pull that face," he complains, gesturing to my proud look.

"What face?" I ask, playing naive, faintly swinging my body side to side. "Just stop talking to him, he's a bad influence," he grunts, peering off to the horizon. I giggle, "Or what? Do you intend to beat every boy who speaks to me?" I counter, and he struggles to fight a smile.

"What if I do," Logan more or less declares.

Shaking my head, "You've got some nerve," I huff, "seeing as you've been avoiding me lately."

"I haven't been avoiding you-"

I interrupt, "Oh yes, you have," playfully punching his gut with a grin, which drops the second my knuckles practically grow a heartbeat. "Ow," I breathe and at last, he laughs.

When Logan's laugh dims, he looks almost sullen. "Didn't think you'd notice," he mumbles and I quirk my chin in confusion. "You seem preoccupied." Gapping at him once more, he rolls his eyes, showing his teeth. "Don't gimme that damn look girl," he heaves, "you're young and, and-"

"And what?"

"Attractive," he sighs heavily, "you don't need an old man weighing you down."

I still, catching his genuine displeasure and defeat. It's like he's disappointed I may seek romance from someone else, but accepts it regardless, for my sake, my happiness.

My heart thumps irregularly and I feel like jumping his bones. I release a lengthy sigh, with a smile twinkling. His brow rises questioningly, seeming anxious about a reaction to his masked insecurity.

"What?" He bites.

"I'm relieved," his confusion visibly progresses. "I thought you were tired of me." As his mouth opens, to probably insult my intelligence, I cut in. "I wanna go steady with you, if that wasn't obvious already." My smile grows sheepish, then taunting, "I like you Lo, and clearly you must love me."

Like he's been holding his breath, a loud puff of air escapes his chapped lips, and I shamelessly watch as he wets them.

"You've gotta be the strangest girl I've ever met," he utters with a smirk forming, and I return one, interpreting his words as a declaration of love.

"Woman," I correct, then babble jokingly, "refined Lady." He confidently strides closer. "Mistress-"

The air leaves my lungs as his solid arms devour me, squeezing tightly.

"You best realize what you're committing to," Logan comments, lightly lifting strands of my hair with his fingertips, to kiss my neck. "That means, no more talking to boys," he grunts, humour coaxing his tone. "Especially ones so far out of your league," he pulls his head back, to peer at my expectant face, "It's not even funny," he finishes with a grin.

I laugh, unable to contain my joy, quickly hiding my wild smile in his chest. A pleased hum rumbles in tune with his heavy breathing, and I listen to his heartbeat's fairly, rapid pace.

For a while, we stay present in each other's arms, with fulfillment and ease consuming our beings, synchronously. Logan's fingers drift across my lower back, leisurely tracing my curves.

"I like you, so much," I whisper airly because the words couldn't be repressed, and had escaped. His hands gradually slow to a halt, till he abruptly draws back. He looks at me, with such intense seriousness, that I shudder.

Then, he pulls away entirely, taking my hand in his larger one, to drag me deeper into the field -into the overgrown areas, looted with massive trees and bushes.

"Logan?" My whisper transforms into a squeak when I'm hauled behind various, untrimmed hedges. His palms grope my hips, stilling me before he drops to his knees. I ogle his smug face as it bores into me, before he wrestles with my pink, low-waisted, jean shorts, impatiently dragging them down my plump thighs. He mumbles, "Ridiculous" when his eyeline levels with my purple, close-to-sheer underwear.

Like my shorts, he yanks them down to my ankles, then swiftly encloses his mouth over my cunt, swiping the folds with his tongue. I throw the back of my hand over my incoming yelp, biting down to muffle it.

"Is this you tryna to deflect admitting you really like me?" I joke meekly as my mouth parts from my hand, but I quickly chomp down again, when he licks me, with a long flick of his tongue. I gasp and whimper, using my spare hand to claw at his scalp for leverage, as he hungrily laps my pussy, sucking on its nub.

A tremor racks my insides, eliciting spasms while he builds up a powerful, but excruciatingly relaxed pace. His bulky digits move to relentlessly rub my clit, applying a rhythmic pressure that makes me sob.

Logan shushes me, mouth still buried in my folds. The buzz of his voice sends shivers through my core, and the strength of his action grows, acknowledging my imminent finish.

“Eyes on me,” Logan basically growls, before diving back into my cunt.

I muffle a cry of his name with a fist now, biting my knuckles. Then, I look from the heavens, back down to the one hand I still have, clenching his silky locks.

My knees begin to buckle and his sizeable palms relocate to support my hips, with his fingertips bordering my ass, kneading it. "I'm close," I gasp, barely audible through my hand. He hums again, and when it elicits another shiver, and shake of my frame, I tumble over his back, wrecked by my climax.

Now hunched over him, with my hands splayed down his torso, I tremble furiously, coming down from my high. I can't help but whine when Logan continuously licks me. He tastes every inch of me like I'm the meal of a lifetime, like I'm oxygen itself.

"Enough," I choke, as my arousal becomes too much. His response is simply plunging further into me, to lick all the way from my ass, to clit.

Steam floods my stomach, lighting me on fire. A raging flame consumes my very being, and I relish in how dirty and dangerous this encounter is -in public on his knees for me, Logan made it known that I'm his, and he let me know, that he couldn't care less who heard us, because I was his.

"You're disturbed," I breathe, and his chuckle resonates louder when he separates from my damp skin. "You love it," he states with a smirk and an arch of his brow. He then runs his tongue over his soaked lips, and I bite back a groan, sighing, "I do."

Lifting, moving my palms to his shoulders, I capture his top lip, sucking on it as a thank you. I grin, and as if he can hear my jest coming from a mile away, he scoffs and turns to hide his smirk.

"And you must lovveee me," I repeat my earlier comment with even more enthusiasm, and he shakes his head.

He rises and I do the same. Logan then goes in for a kiss to shut me up, but just as he does, I catch his mumble of "I do."

I gasp into his mouth, eyelids stretching.

My lids briskly flutter shut when he deepens the kiss, dipping my figure, rather romantically, and we both smile.

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fordtato · 3 months

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Emergency commissions/donations to help me move!

Hey all! I'm in a tough financial spot with a very unexpected $1000 move-out fee, and I need some help!

So I am offering fic commissions AND background/landscape art - That's right, writing AND art, for the prices below! I also will accept donations, but I feel more comfortable offering art, etc.

Donations:

I will accept donations if you just wanna help out! If you'd like to pay for a commission, keep scrolling.

If you would just like to donate without a commission, here is my Ko-Fi!

Fanfiction commissions:

Won't write:

fandoms I know nothing about (DM me if you'd like something outside of Gravity Falls work, though I'm sure that's where most of my following is)

gore

any type of thing that would get me cancelled on twitter dot com (come on guys, im a YouTuber now)

Will write:

Just about anything else tbh. OCs, melodrama, angst, hurt-comfort, you name it.

NSFW (for adult customers only. im not writing this for teenagers. do your homework)

Rates: $25 per 1k words, with a 150 word buffer. (Meaning, if I write 1150 words, I'm not charging you extra, it'll still be $25)

Send an ask or a DM if you are interested!

Note: I will not be posting these on Ao3, due to Ao3's "no money for fics" rules.

Examples of my fics, if you want to check out my work:

Note: Jersey Boy is my oldest fic (literally 8 years old and still going). The first couple chapters are pretty rough imo. The latter chapters are more in line with my capabilities. Also, yes, this fic is still being written, it's just being written between jobs and between work on YouTube vids, and I have less available time for it than I used to. Pay me to finish more of Jersey Boy (/s)

Background art commissions:

So, 90% of the artists I know tell me that background/environment art is one of the parts of the process they dislike the most. But it's actually my favorite thing to draw!

I actually don't feel comfortable enough in my drawing of characters to feel good about charging people for those, but I think I can consistently do some background art!

Examples of my art/pricing below!

Simpler color palette/lighting, and fewer details: $20-30

More detailed digital paintings: $40-50

For anymore detail then what you see above, we'll have to work that pricing out!

Example of heavy detail that might cost more:

Send me details on what you'd like in a digital painting and we will work out a timetable!

Send an ask or a DM if you are interested!

Donate/pay here: My Ko-Fi

I appreciate you reading, and if you can't help out, please share!

#gravity falls #art commissions #open commissions #writing commissions #signal boost #help me out if you are willing and able #or just share!

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torawro · 6 months

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

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

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

word count ━━ 11k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shall we be on our way?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed . . . . closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what did he just━

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

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

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

It was blood.

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

Aizen's blade.

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

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

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

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

Fuck....was this really happening?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which reminded you of something else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet.

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

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

━━━━━━ 鏡 ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, here he ended up.

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

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

The thrill of a challenge.

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

It made him feel alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or at least, that's what he thought.

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

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

Aizen found amusement in that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One drop at a time.

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

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You regret . . . killing me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they loved it.

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

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

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

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

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

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

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

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

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

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

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

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

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 9 months

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Need more positivity on my dash, so I wanna talk a bit more about how fucking amazing OFMD's writing for its characters of color is!

Now, I'm a professional historian (phd student 😔🤘🏾) and I read and watch a lot of historical fiction because I love it, right? And I have literally never seen a piece of historical fiction that is so respectful to its characters of color.

Usually, in works of historical fiction that actually bother to include characters of color, they fall into two big camps. The most common one is trauma porn, where poc only exist so White characters can save them, feel sorry about them, or so White audiences can pat themselves on the back for feeling sorry about them. Also popular are works that include characters of color but don't bother thinking about how race impacts their experiences in historical settings (shows like Bridgerton come to mind; they want to include poc but handwave racism). And in general I prefer the latter but it still takes me out of the story.

But OFMD hits just this amazing balance. There are many characters of color, and the racism of the world they live in impacts their experiences and perspectives in realistic ways. Ed remembering how his mom told him that fine things weren't meant for people like him has me by the fucking throat, it's so tied up in race and class and it's the root of so many of Ed's self-image issues into adulthood. But the real kicker for me - poc always get the last laugh in OFMD. Yes, the racism in this show is often very realistic, but this isn't a realistic show at its core and it is so, so comforting to know a character who starts acting like a racist dickhead is a dead man walking.

It's so carefully written, and for me it's such a huge comfort: race in OFMD is never hand-waved away, and it's thought-provoking and realistic and relatable. But the show always feels so safe because we know racism in the show is never excused. They tell us in the pilot that if you start being a racist asshole, someone's gonna stab you. Even Stede, our main character - when he makes a racist assumption in the second episode of the show, the narrative encourages us to call him out for it and has a character directly call him a fuckin' racist! He's held accountable and he fucking grows, because unlearning racist biases is important and he doesn't get a pass because he's the main character!

It's not just that OFMD has a lot of characters of color. It's not just that one of our main romantic leads is an indigenous Jewish man. It's not just that characters of color are consistently depicted as smart, clean, competent, and respected. It's that the show respects them enough to think about how racism realistically shapes the world of OFMD, while at the same time providing viewers with a wonderful fantasy of racists getting what they deserve. In the genre of historical fiction, it stands out because it completely avoids the trauma porn and hand-wavey angles, and I can't articulate strongly enough how much I appreciate that.

#ofmd #our flag means death

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yourpenpaldee · 4 months

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION.

I don't usually put myself out there as it makes me nervous. But I've been a lurker for way too long, and it's about time I step out of my comfort zone. So, hello! I'm Dee (she/her), twenty-two, and have found my voice with storytelling.

Writing has always been a passion of mine, and continues to be the tool I turn to when I need an outlet to freely express myself. I have, unfortunately, hit a rough patch with consistency, and I'm here to bring all of that motivation and inspiration back. Especially since there are one too many WIPs sitting on the backburner, and they're all calling my name.

As someone who loves to dip their toes into every genre of fiction, I will read anything that peaks my interest. However, when it comes to creating, my works usually fall under romance and mystery. With practice, I intend on branching out into other genres I don't write often. There's a lot to explore in the world of writing, and I don't want to limit myself to only two categories.

Creating this blog provides me the space I need to accomplish the many goals I often dream of achieving. I acknowledge that it all starts with the ability to hold myself accountable. To show up for myself. To become comfortable with the uncomfortable. Putting myself and my projects out into the world is only the first of many steps, and it feels quite liberating.

I aim to use the voice I've found to not only contribute to the progression of POC representation, but to touch on several topics that remain heavily stigmatized in today's media. There’s a joy that runs through my veins every time I see someone like me on my screen or in a book. I feel seen, heard, and proud. I feel important. But as a creator, there’s that itch that can only be scratched when I create. When I make something that lets the next person know that they’re not invisible. That they're valued, loved, and appreciated. That's what I hope for when someone reads a project of mine. For them to feel the same rush of joy flowing through them as it does me.

Wow, I’m a yapper. I'd like to close this intro off with some fun facts, so here are some of my top five favorites with sidenotes because I still want to yap a bit more about the things I adore.

SOLO ARTISTS:

ARI LENNOX ✧ ˚ · . CHOCOLATE POMEGRANATE — GET CLOSE — GOAT — POF — UP LATE

HALSEY ✧ ˚ · . 100 LETTERS — I HATE EVERYBODY — NIGHTMARE — ROMAN HOLIDAY — THE LIGHTHOUSE

HOPE TALA ✧ ˚ · . CHERRIES — EDEN — I CAN'T EVEN CRY — LEAVE IT ON THE DANCEFLOOR — SUNBURN

MELANIE MARTINEZ ✧ ˚ · . ALPHABET BOY — DEAD TO ME — EVIL — NOTEBOOK — STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

HALIMA ✧ ˚ · . DOWNTOWN — FORD CARDINAL — IF LOVE WAS GREEN — SAMANTHA — TALK

BANDS:

5 SECONDS OF SUMMER ✧ ˚ · . AIRPLANES — BETTER MAN — KILL MY TIME — LONG WAY HOME — TEARS!

FALL OUT BOY ✧ ˚ · . BANG THE DOLDRUMS — CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO — HEADFIRST SLIDE INTO COOPERSTOWN ON A BAD BET — NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER — WHERE DID THE PARTY GO

FLO ✧ ˚ · . CARDBOARD BOX — FLY GIRL — IMMATURE — SUITE LIFE (FAMILIAR) — WALK LIKE THIS

PARAMORE ✧ ˚ · . BIG MAN, LITTLE DIGNITY — CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE — FRANKLIN — MISGUIDED GHOST — PART II

THE INTERNET ✧ ˚ · . DONTCHA — HOLD ON — LOOK WHAT U STARTED — SOMTHING'S MISSING — SPECIAL AFFAIR

GAMES:

CORAL ISLAND ✧ ˚ · . IF I START LISTING NAMES, I'M GOING TO MENTION EVERYONE. BUT I'M A LOYAL MARK GIRL. AND NOAH... AND MILLIE, EVA, BEN, Y—

DISNEY DREAMLIGHT VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . THIS IS SUCH A COMFORT GAME THAT SOOTHES MY INNER CHILD.

DON'T STARVE [TOGETHER] ✧ ˚ · . I MAY OR MAY NOT STILL SUCK AT THIS GAME AFTER A SOLID THREE YEARS, BUT I'M A WIGFRID MAIN.

STARDEW VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . I LOVE SEBASTIAN AND LEAH, AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL IF I HAVE TO.

THE SIMS 4 ✧ ˚ · . WHERE I SPEND A LOT MORE TIME IN CREATE-A-SIM AND BUILD MODE COMPARED TO PLAYING THE ACTUAL GAME.

TROPES:

FAKE RELATIONSHIP ✧ ˚ · . MHM... JUST SAY YOU LIKE EACH OTHER ALREADY.

FATED MATE ✧ ˚ · . I'M A BIT PICKY ABOUT THIS TROPE THOUGH. THINGS TEND TO MOVE VERY QUICKLY BUT I ENJOY IT NONETHELESS.

FRIENDS TO LOVERS ✧ ˚ · . A CLASSIC THAT DOESN'T NEED AN EXPLANATION.

REUNION ✧ ˚ · . ESPECIALLY IF THEY WERE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND THEY REMINISCE OLD MEMORIES, OH MY GOODNESS. I EAT THIS TROPE UP EVERY TIME.

SLOWBURN ✧ ˚ · . NO DOUBT THIS IS MY MOST FAVORITE TROPE. THE BUILDUP TO EVEN THE TINIEST PIVOTAL MOMENT ALWAYS MAKES MY HEART THUMP.

TV SHOWS:

CRIMINAL MINDS ✧ ˚ · . YES, I’LL WATCH ALL 16 SEASONS FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME AND FALL IN LOVE WITH PRENTISS EACH TIME. WE WERE ALSO ROBBED OF BEARDED HOTCH CONTENT.

BRIDGERTON ✧ ˚ · . DO I CRY EVERY TIME I WATCH GEORGE AND CHARLOTTE'S STORY? YES. WILL I CONTINUE TO REWATCH IT AND RECITE THE LINES EVERY TIME SOMETHING REMINDS ME OF IT? ASOLUTELY.

THE BEAR ✧ ˚ · . I WISH I KNEW OF AYO EDEBIRI BEFORE THIS SHOW BECAUSE THAT WOMAN IS AMAZING??? LIKE, HELLO???

THE EQUALIZER ✧ ˚ · . *mini spoiler* STILL CAN'T STOP THINKING OF DANTE'S GRIN WHEN HE GOT TO SEE MEL, ROB, AND HARRY'S LITTLE WORK SPOT FOUR SEASONS LATER.

SWEET MAGNOLIAS ✧ ˚ · . HELEN, MADDIE, AND DANA SUE IS HOW I PICTURE MY FRIENDS AND I IN THE FUTURE. MARGARITA NIGHTS, BEING AUNTIES TO EACH OTHER'S CHILDREN, UGH. I LOVE THEM WHOLEHEARTEDLY.

And that concludes this introduction on me and this blog. I would love to connect and befriend other authors, so please don't hesitate to reach out as my DMs will always be open! I'd love to support and read your works, so don't be hesitant to share them with me if you'd like.

I hope you all will enjoy reading my works as much as I enjoy the process of bringing my ideas to life.

divider creds to strangergraphics ♡

#writeblr #blog intro #writeblr intro #writeblr community #writing community #writing on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #writers #i did not expect for this to get as long as it did my oh my

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displ3azant · 5 months

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CURRENTLY ASK-ABLE: - Unpleasant - Infected (Plez oversees the questions, though.)

(Before cut is In-Character.)

Hiii! Helloooo!

Hello!!!!!! Hehe, thiz iz actually super weird trying to write an intro-- give me a minute.

So, HIII!!!!!!! I'm Unpleasant! That'z not a joke, that iz literally my name. There'z no "deep reason" behind it, it iz literally just what people refer to me az. But, if that'z too weird, I do also go by Unplez or Plez for short.

Uh, pronounz? I don't really care, actually. I don't have a set gender, I've never really met a gradient who doez. That being said, since I started hanging with Infected I have been called he and she specifically a lot... so if it'z easiest for you, just roll with the crowd.

Right, so... the blog. Thatz thiz blog, haha! Well, the easy answer iz I waz super bored, Infected can suck a huge ####, and I like talking about myself! But... I kind of suck at talking in general, so I guess I'll type and answer questionz about myself.

BUT KNOW MY BOUNDARIEZ BEFORE YOU ASK QUESTIONZ! 👇👇👇

(Below cut is Out-Of-Character.)

To those who know me: Good to see you're still stickin' with me! I promise I will make an effort to make this blog much less of a dumpster fire like the last one.

And to those who are only now coming across this blog: Hello! My name is Hex. You don't have to call me "Mod Hex", or anything, just "Hex" will do. I'm the only guy running this thing here. I'll talk more about myself soon, because oversharing is what I do best.

Blog-Context

So, if it wasn't obvious enough from the intro, this is an ask/rp blog for the Unpleasant Gradient from Regretevator, but specifically in the context of the plez-centric au I have created for him. Or, well, the "AU" in question is actually just some freaky amalgamation of all my fucked up headcanons, which means...

I AM NO LONGER DOING DIRECT BLOG ASSOCIATIONS! Really sorry about that, I love my friends with all my heart but if I wanna keep consistency, I'm gonna have to "write the story" on my own. However, I do want to give full credit to my friends @sk8tr1101 and @party-noob for some major concepts involving Unpleasant, especially Audrey who already has some awesome ideas herself. Go check them both out!

MAIN TAGS:

#unpl3zansw3rz - Asks

#unpl3zrambl3z - Non-ask related posts/reblogs

#unpl3zlor3 - Plot points and similar

#ooc - Out-of-character post

OTHER TAGS (to be updated):

(nothing yet, hehe)

Blog-Owner

So hiiii, I'm Hex. If I can be bothered, out-of-character posts will either have the #ooc tag, be in purple text, or be signed off with my name. I'd prefer if you refer to me using he/it pronouns, thnx!

I'd also like you all to keep in mind I am 17 years old, therefore a minor, and even if I wasn't 17 I do not appreciate NSFW/Explicit jokes towards me, ESPECIALLY if you don't know me. It's one thing when you're my very close friends or my partner, it's another thing when you are a stranger on the internet asking me things I should not have to answer.

My other accounts are: @hexexists - my main blog, if you receive notifications from this account, please know it is just me! @hexational - my regretevator blog @geometricgiovanni - a Jeremy ask/rp blog set in the same universe as this one! Please note, however, that in the context of this blog, Unpleasant is not aware of the blog nor would he like to be.

Ask/RP-Boundaries

Let's start off by reiterating that I AM NOT OKAY WITH NSFW/EXPLICIT ASKS IN ANY CAPACITY! Sick of getting them, they're repetitive and annoying. Asking safe-for-work questions involving Unpleasant's anatomy is one thing, but I am not responding to ANYTHING involving genetalia.

ALSO! I am very unlikely to respond to things that is either hard to make a unique drawing for or don't progress the story (unlocking "lore" and such). I'm watching your ass, Mango, I know what you like to do (/lh). Joke asks are still okay, you don't *have* to progress story, but please keep in mind my "criteria" for answering asks when sending them. A clean inbox gives me a clear mind. I do not like notifications.

Shipping content: Shipping content is okay, but I don't care much for romance personally and so will likely not play much into it. Please don't push anything, I guess, and nothing that promotes proshipping or any kind of literally illegal pairing. If you dislike any direction taken ship-wise for this blog, then block me and move on with your day.

Roleplaying: While I'd prefer to not be in direct contact with other rp blogs, I am totally cool with roleplaying side stories and stuff, interactions and such! Please keep in mind though, Unpleasant in this is not a very social person, so you're probably not going to get the reaction you want.

Also! I think OCs are super cool and am happy to respond/interact with them as well! However,

PLEASE DON'T SEND YOUR GRADIENT OCS TO THIS ACCOUNT IF YOU WANT ME TO DRAW THEM! Please instead send them to @hexational! A lot of people were sending me their Gradient ocs to the previous Unpleasant account, and as much as I love seeing Gradient ocs and Gradient sonas, I'd love to be able to draw them, and if you are just asking an opinion on them and not an in-character ask or a genuine question involving other gradients I'd much prefer you send them to the account previously tagged!

That's pretty much all I can think of! Sorry for the long post, I just have a lot to say hehe

Lots of love, - Hex

#unpl3zansw3rz #unpl3zrambl3z #ic #ooc #ask blog #regretevator unpleasant #regretevator ask blog #regretevator infected #unpleasant gradient

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doberbutts · 2 months

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I know you've said writing is a pretty fraught thing for you so I hope I'm not prodding against something tender without realizing, but I wanted to say that I think you have an absolutely lovely authorial voice, and I find your writing an absolute joy to read. I only discovered your blog a couple of days ago, but I've been reading through some of your post backlog and I've found myself consistently impressed by how you're able to make nuanced, complex ideas understandable for lay-readers while still maintaining a very fluid and compelling style.

Speaking as someone coming from academia, that blend of clarity, readability and depth of thought is both rare and takes a lot of work to develop, and I really admire it.

Oh, I appreciate the kind words actually!

It's not that my relationship with writing is fraught, it's that black people being called eloquent is a, umm, well often it is a microaggression when being said by a nonblack person.

Let me put it this way. Black people have our own dialect- AAVE- which is constantly both appropriated and also derided as unintelligent. This is despite the fact that most people who use AAVE also can speak and understand standard american english- proficiency in two (tbh even more than two bc AAVE is largely regional as well but w/e I guess) dialects is somehow unintelligent if you choose to use the one most common to your demographic for whatever reason. (I know the reason the reason is racism actually).

Black people learned a long time ago that in order to be taken seriously by nonblack and white supremist society, we needed to not only not use AAVE, but also be the most eloquent and well-spoken person in the room at all times or else some white asshole would find a reason to discredit us by saying we were too unintelligent to have a place at the table.

We aren't allowed to not be eloquent. And eloquent is only allowed to mean "speaks in purely academic words and phrases with no slang, using only standard american with no strong accent besides the news broadcaster 'no accent' accent" with absolutely no wiggle room.

Racist white society does not consider it possible to be well-spoken while using AAVE. It doesn't matter how educated or articulate the speaker is if they're using AAVE. They're just not considered intelligent enough to have a firm grasp on the subject. Even if they're the most experienced person there.

So when I say that black people and eloquence is a fraught discussion, I don't mean that I don't like speaking or writing. What I mean is, black people being told we are well spoken when we choose to remove our own dialect from our mouths because that's the only way we can get people to listen to us, often times with people saying this in surprise as though they did not expect us to be well spoken...

That entire mess is a whole tangled web of racism. It's a microaggression.

And it's also actually one of the major reasons why I talk the way I do. I find it to be a nice blend between pure academic lingo and casual street talk- understandable for the layperson but with an obvious enough grasp of the concept that I don't drown when discussing with people more used to using the more theoretical terms. It is intentional, and it's nice to see someone notice that.

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mochinomnoms · 3 months

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Thinking about PTM where Jade gets Yuu's mind reading powers but instead of listening in on Yuu's thoughts he is making a hit list of people who like/dislike you more than he deems acceptable. People who think things like "I'd hit that" or "they can't even use magic why are they here".

I'm so excited for the next chapter of PTM it's made me appreciate Jade so much (not to rush you) it's easily my favorite fanfic series.

Jade has a few lists when it comes to people interacting with Yuu:

Friends and Family: self-explanatory, mostly consists of people who you have a familial and close friendship with. This includes some of the main cast, with special mention to Ace, Deuce, Grim, Crewel, Goethel, and Riddle. No threat to him and his love to Yuu, but they have significant influence in their life so he should keep on friendly terms with them.

Acquaintances and Casual Friends: this consists of the people who you are relatively friendly with, but aren't super close to. Their opinions to you don't really matter, but some of them do still care for you. Most of the student body fits into this, but the main cast here includes most of the Ramshackle freshmen (James, Silas, Marion, Yakub)

Strangely close but no one is sure why and Azul why won't you tell me your secrets: this includes the 7 overblot boys, who all have a strange relationship with Yuu. Some of them speak of Yuu very fondly (Azul and Vil), some of them are rather neutral (Leona, Jamil, and Idia), and the rest are very overprotective. The last is almost exclusive to Malleus with Riddle as a close second. Why do they get to be so close to Yuu, it's not fair. What secrets did you all share, spill it to him Azul or he's gonna break that stupid NDA out of spite.

I hate that bitch in a way that is concerning to law enforcement: I feel that this is pretty obvious, but anyone that has any sort of romantic affection to Yuu fits here. Wynfred is here at this time, but a handful of other freshmen who only know stories about the magicless Prefect and their astounding abilities to tame the blot monsters are here. There are a few older students too, one who knew Yuu during their first year, but not as many as their charm sort of melted into more of a "huh, they're cool" over time.

(also don't worry bb, i like talking about ptm. i usually like to get on a call with friends and talk out loud about the chapter im writing to help with flow but i havent been able to do that lately so i think thats why im stuck sldjalskjljskajd)

#mochi asks #a-small-tyrant

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mytheoristavenue · 7 months

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Dude I know you don't have any requests but if you ever feel up to it I would absolutely eat up a continuation of your creature x reader fic...perhaps they slowly fall for each other.

Hes just...he's so sweet and the way you write him makes me feral. I'm definitely going to check out your other works.

This is me letting you know that your target audience had been reached

Normally, I would politely decline or ignore requests, as I just don't enjoy doing them anymore for multiple reasons, but I wanted to address this one specifically. Hopefully this isn't too short!

For the sake of this story, let's pretend that the time between the events of the movie span over a longer period.

LF Creature x Reader - Compost

Summary: Creature helps you out in your garden.

Warnings: mentions of rot, bugs, worms, and dung, creature x reader, bisexual reader, reader has a crush on Lisa, continuation of Mutual Comfort, plot holes, not proofread, spelling/gramatical errors, calling Creature Ein

"You look different today," you noticed allowed, squatted over the flower bed, carefully dropping a marigold from your trowel and covering the roots with soil. "Little more alive."

The man behind you grunted in response, prompting you to glance at him over your shoulder. He seemed to have more color in his face, and his hair seemed less stringy. He lifted a discolored hand, and waved it around as if it were an explaination. You simply shrugged, not understanding the meaning, and went back to what you were doing.

"Regaurdless, I appreciate you helping me." you smiled, standing up and admiring your newly replanted marigolds. Another grunt in responce. "Now I need to mix up the compost pile. Mind pushing that wheel barrow over there?" you aske pointing to the object and then to the destination. Nodding, Creature made his way over.

Once he got behind the wheel barrow, however, he scrunched his face in disgust. "What?" you laughed, slumping your shoulders. "Too good for hard labor? He shook his head, letting go of thehandles and covering his nose. Finally, it clicked for you.

"Oh, come on, you big baby. It doesn't stink tha bad." you rolled your eyes, walking over to simply wheel it over yourself. Seeing you prepared to take matters into your own hands, Creature finally pulled himself up by the bootstraps, taking hold of the handles again and pushing it forward. "Its cow dung, if you were curious," you giggled, following him. "My dad has a friend that owns a far and he hooks me up with free manure for the garden."

Once again, Creature grimaced, turning up his nose. "Hey, Zomboy," you scolded playfully. "Your half rotted flest doesn't smell all that much better." He flashed you a hurt expression coupled with a somber groan, making you back peddle. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

Finally in front of the compost pile, you grabbed a nearby shovel and began to heave the dung onto the top, the smell never once bothering you. When you were finished, you stuck the shovel in the ground and rested a foot on it, hiking your knee up, and glued your hands to your hips, tired from a hard day's work.

"I don't know about you, but I think today is a good day for some lemonade." You sighed, beginning to walk back toward the house, Creature trailing behind you. "You like lemonade?" He nodded when you glanced back, prompting you to smile. "Go ahead and take a seat," you said, motioning to the patio set to his right. "I'll go get us some."

After a few minutes, you returned, slipping out the back door and into the yard, a glass in each hand, but your eyes lit up before you couven step off the patio. You quickly scurried over to set the glasses down, gushing over what he had. It was a lovely little hand picked bouquet, mostly consisting of wildflowers and weeds. In the short time you were gone, Creature had taken it upon himself to currate you a gift. "Ein..." you breathed, taking it from him and examining it. "You did this for me...?" you asked, oblivious to how silly the question was. He nodded with a timid smile, inviting you to sit with him.

After a moment, your heart dropped, realizing what you'd called him by. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry I called you that!" you fretted. "Lisa told me that was the last little bit of your name, I sholdv'e asked if you'd be kay with being called that."

He seemed to wave your worries off, shaking his head, signalling tha he wasn't bothered. He then bowed his head, something that confused you. "So you are okay with me calling you Ein?" He bowed again, and you were unable to keep the grin from spreading across your face. "Okay, Ein it is then. I suppose we couldn't have just called you 'Creature' forever, right?" He shrugged, as if he truly didn't care what his name ended up being. "Regardless, thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful."

The man couldn't help but stare as you admired the little nosegay, noting how eyes eyes lit up when you smiled and your nose scrunched when you laughed. He actually found himself so invested in observing you while sipping his lemonade that he choked a little when your eyes flitted back to him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" you suddenly jumped up, patting his back as he coughed, hunched over. "Ein? Ein! Are you okay?" you panicked, patting a bit harder, and wondering if the heimlick would even work on a corpse. Luckily, that deemed to be unnessisary as he finally spat up whatever was clogging his airway.There on the table, squirmed a very long, slimy earthworm.

"I-Is...is that a worm?" you grimaced, entirely freaked out as you stared at it, eyes flickering back to his every few seconds. Creature was frozen in place, terrified he'd ruined a lovely moment between the two of you, and slapped his hand over the thing, shaking his head no. "You're telling me I didn't just watch you spit up a worm onto my dad's patio table? You're telling me if I move your hand, there's not gonna be a worm?"

Hesitantly, he shook his head with a nervous smile, resisting as hard as possible when you grabbed his hand to move it. Though you had no time to think about it then, you couldn't help but notice the way the stitches holding his hand on felt under your finger tips- definately an interesting sensation.

Finally, you managed to lift his hand up, still holding it, and proved yourself right, once again staring at the wiggly little thing on the table. With a sigh, and ignoring his protests, you reached down and lifted it into your palm. "Got anymore?"

Creature sheepishly shook his head and got up to follow you as you walked away. "Well, this little guy is going in my compost pile." you decided, pinching the worm out of your palm and setting it on top of the pile. "And if it has any buddies in there, they're welcome to the pile too." you smiled, grabbing his hand again.

"I like you," you confessed with a giggle. "A few little bugs aren't gonna scare me away."

I hope this was along the lines of what you were looking for! Sorry it was so rushed, it probably has a million errors, as my gramarly is suddenly not working!

#lisa frankenstein #lisa swallows #creature x reader #lisa x reader #lisa x creature #lisa frankenstein x reader #lisa frankenstein creature x reader #cole sprouse #diablo cody #zelda williams

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nucleo-bang-tan · 5 months

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wife's bsf au where reader is wife and she sees her bsf coming into their bedroom at night and fucking her husband right beside her while reader is crying but she stills observe everything

You didn't specify which member you wanted me to write. I was assuming it was Taehyung? But I'm sorry I had to do Jk.

Grayscale Pt.1 | JJK

Pairing/s: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Cheating AU, highschool sweethearts, first love

Rating/s: No detailed explicit content, but wouldn't recommend it for minors.

Warning/s: Major heartbreak (duh), sweet love story, Jungkook is literally a liar and a dirty, dirty cheat (not irl, he's an angel), mentions of sex with another woman, not really a satisfying end? and I guess the ask says the rest, lmk if I'm forgetting anything.

A/N: Please leave comments, I would love to hear from you guys. Critique my writing and tell me if I'm doing anything wrong, really appreciate it.

I'm also extremely sleepy while writing this, let me know if I made some mistakes or if my writing isn't as good as you expected (anon, you can send another ask if you would like me to write it once more)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The memory of the precise moment you fell for Jungkook remains vivid in every corner of your mind. How could you not, honestly?

He was a year older than you in high school. Typically exuding a reserved and shy demeanor, the sophmore was exceptionally good at basketball and other sports. Not that you were far behind; you could effortlessly win against majority of the students in any given sport. Everyone but Jungkook it seemed.

The pretty boy had throngs of admirers. You honestly understood them but you could feel yourself groan with annoyance everytime he beat you at a sport you practiced for days. Yes, he annoyed you, a sentiment he was well too aware of.

The boy didn't attend school as often, he had his future laid out in front of him, his father being a huge businessman in Busan.

You couldn't say that you hadn't heard of his father's reputation but you certainly could tell that Jungkook was pretty intimidated by him.

"Maybe she just likes you!" His friend answered much too loudly when Jungkook asked about why you disliked him.

He just laughed, "I wish. But I have a rough feeling that it has something to do with the fact that I demolish her at every game."

They were sitting together in the gymnasium during their lunch break, stealing glances at your direction, Jungkook wasn't the only one with admirers, you had your fair share of them.

Jungkook couldn't admit it openly but he had a crush on you. His feelings were shared only to the ones closest to him.

"You should really tell her, you know." His friend suggested.

"And-"

"And risk your father knowing? Man, just try it. You can brush it off as a rumor if it gets out."

Jungkook sighed, his desire for you practically consumed him.

He looked at you yet again. He knew it was a huge risk, but fuck. The way you laughed with your friends, the way your eyes glistened with purity, everything made him want to hug you and whisper the cheesiest of words into your ear. You were pretty, so pretty.

He couldn't risk it, right? But maybe he could give it a shot.

Jungkook's friend invited you to a local park that same evening since Jungkook couldn't muster up enough courage to do it himself. He picked one where the public consisted mostly the elderly to reduce the chances of him being noticed.

"Namjoon-hyung, you sure this jacket looks good?" Jungkook panicked. "I have to be there in 15 minutes."

His older friend sighed, "You could just tell us you're going on a date; it's obvious. We won't be that mad you know."

"It's not a date, I'm just meeting a....friend."

"Sure you are, that's why you got the biggest bouquet."

As Jungkook hurriedly made his way to the park, his mind raced with anticipation and nerves. The weight of the bouquet in his hands served as a constant reminder of the leap of faith he was about to take.

Despite his attempts to brush off Namjoon's teasing, the truth was undeniable: he was about to meet you for what felt like the most important moment of his life.

There you were, squatting down near the pup of an elderly couple. Your hair catching the golden sunlight and framing your face ever so beautifully.

This was the first time he saw you outside of school and without the uniform or gym clothes. You were wearing a simple skirt and a jacket to protect from the chilly weather, the soft hues blending perfectly with your complexion. He made a mental note of how good your sense of clothing was.

But that moment sparked a certain sense of determination in the teenage boy's head. He had to have you. It was that exact moment when he decided that he'll marry you and only you one day, keep you close to him forever.

Maybe you'd decline his proposal to take you out on a date, maybe you'd slap him for being delusional, but he simply didn't care then.

He approached you, and squatted beside you softly petting the dog.

"Jungkook?" You furrowed your eyebrows, attention shifting from the puppy to him.

"Y/N?"

"You're late, you know?" You huffed, feigning annoyance. Getting up, you started walking around the serene lake, Jungkook walking beside you.

"I know, I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, it being way too dry for his liking. You looked at the flowers in his hands and figured they were for you.

"So, why did you invite me here? Oh well, technically your friend did."

Jungkook needed water and was hoping he could dive into the lake. But the way you looked at him made him question if that would be enough to hydrate him.

"I- uh- was thinking..."

"You're awfully confident while playing, you know. You should really bring that over into your actual personality."

He remembered what his hyung, Namjoon taught him, 'Question, joke and complement.'

"Uh- do you come here often?" That was dumb, Jungkook realised as soon as it came out of his mouth.

"No, not really. I wish I did, my parents don't really allow me to go out that often."

"Oh, why is that?"

"What if someone, like you, kidnaps me?" You laughed, "Wouldn't be be a pretty situation, right?"

Jungkook relaxed a bit, your attitude didn't seem inapproachable at all. He had talked to you multiple times, but all after you lost a game against him. To be fair, he'd be annoyed too.

It was the complement stage, and Jungkook meant it when he said, "Your hair, it's really pretty- like you."

You blushed uncontrollably. This was the first time someone had called you pretty. Now it was your turn to shy away from him.

Jungkook thought it was so unbearable, that he couldn't hold it in anymore. He had to ask you. He had to get your answer. Seeing you blush made him even more infatuated with you.

"I uh- invited you here today to ask you something." He started.

You looked up at him with those bewitching eyes that had him at a loss for words. But he still managed to say, "Go out with me?"

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A week after you rejected Jungkook, you were very unfortunately invited to watch the boys' basketball game. Ofcourse, Jungkook was going to be there, the thought made you want to crawl into your bed and hibernate till it was all over.

Jungkook was a great person, handsome, smart, and at times more shy than he should be. He was the typical high school crush and so much more.

Jungkook asking you out, despite the fact you had a slight distaste towards him, felt like a dream. But dreams are called dreams because they are too good to be true, right?

Jungkook was not the problem, never was. It was your strict parents. Telling them that you had a boyfriend was a suicide mission in itself.

After your refusal to date him, Jungkook had a huge mental breakdown and decided it'd be best if followed the path made for him by his father.

"You know, you're staring." Gaeul nudged your arm. Her remark made you quickly come out of your daze.

"At Jungkook? No way, I was just looking at the uh-"

"I think he knows you're staring."

"Fuck, should we leave?" You asked.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You didn't leave but stayed longer than anyone. The court was empty at this point except for the janitors who exchanged looks that probably translated, 'When's this one leaving?'

You felt a presence sit a foot next to you on the bleachers.

"Hey." He said. Jungkook was all showered and fresh. Hair still damp from it and skin smelling like soap.

"I should leave, shouldn't I?" You chuckled.

"Y/n, can I ask you something?"

You nodded.

"Why do you care what your parents think?"

"What?" You looked at him surprised.

"Are you sure you rejected me because you don't like me?"

"Jungkook, I-"

"Your friend, Gaeul told me how your parents will practically skin you alive if you date someone."

"I'm sorry but I can't go against them."

"Do you like me?" He shifted closer to you on the bench.

"I can't, Jungkook. Why don't you understand?"

"Do you like me?" He simply asked.

"I do, a lot."

With that he put an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his body. The heat he radiated was overwhelming. You had never been this close to a boy before. Your stomach did a flip seeing how close his face was.

"That day, when I saw you, I realised, that I can't imagine taking a single step without you. I have no idea what happened to me, but I'm glad it did."

"Jungkook, I can't." You whispered.

"You don't seem like you mean it, say what you want."

You knew neither of your parents would approve of this but fuck, the pretty boy's eyes did something to your heart. It made you want to cry, something about him pulled you, and it was significant.

This was the exact moment you fell for him.

"I want to be your girlfriend."

Pulling you closer than humanly possible, he kissed you.

There goes your first kiss.

You felt so soft, your cocoa butter lip balm smelling ever so sweet, he wondered if it would taste like cocoa butter too, spoiler: it did.

Jungkook held you so delicately, kissing you like you were a fragile sculpture bound to crumble.

"Hey, get your asses out of here!" one of the janitors yelled.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Y/n! What is the meaning of this?" Your father yells at you.

"Dad, this is..." You tried to explain who the boy with his arm around your waist was.

You were in the final year of high school and Jungkook was already in college. This was the first time you brought Jungkook home to introduce him to your parents.

"Young woman, get yourself upstairs to your bedroom, I'll get rid of this... guy" His voice still holding lots of anger and disappointment.

You sigh, "Dad, this is Jungkook. He's... my boyfriend."

Your dad was speechless, and the disappointment was through the roof.

"We've been together for 3 years now." I gulp.

"That's enough!" He yells. "This is not what we expected from you. 3 years? You've been hiding this for 3 years now?"

Jungkook decided to speak up, "Sir, I love your daughter and she loves me. I promise you, she's the girl I'll marry. I hope you'll understand that" His grip on my waist tightens reassuringly.

You look at Jungkook, he had said these words a million times but now, in front of your father? This was something entirely different.

You take a deep breath, "Dad, I don't care if you give your blessings to our relationship or not, I just wanted you to know that I have him, I have Jungkook."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You had somehow managed to get into the same prestigious university as your boyfriend and decided that you'll finally live together.

Your father couldn't say no to your relationship even if he wanted to. He cared more for your happiness and though he wasn't sure about Jungkook, he decided it would be the best to let you be your own person.

"Jungkook?" You look over your shoulder, hearing the sound of the door opening.

"You stayed up? I told you not to." Jungkook, sits beside you on the couch. He leans in and kisses your forehead.

"I couldn't sleep without you. You know how much I love your warmth." You rest your head on his chest.

Looking back, you should've placed the familiar scent that didn't smell like Jungkook which lingered on his shirt.

He pulled you closer to him, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" You look up at his face, he was on the verge of tearing up.

"I-"

"Jungkook, hey." You cup his face and place a small peck on his lips. "You can tell me anything." You place your forehead against his.

"I don't know, I'm sorry for everything." He sobbed.

"What do you mean?" You peck his forehead, his nose, his cheek, everything you can you show him how much you loved him.

"I promise you, I love you."

"I know, Jungkook. I love you too. I promise. More than anything."

Jungkook cried in your arms, muttering around a hundred sorry's. He never said why he was apologising.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Just close your eyes." Your best friend, Gaeul urged you. You were highly suspicious of what was going to happen.

You were 22, fresh out of college and currently on a vacation with your closest friends and ofcourse, the love of your life, Jungkook.

"Gaeul, can you atleast tell me where we are going?" You feel the cold sand under your feet. A mix of chilly and windy was perfect to describe the evening.

"And now, open them." She quickly lets go of you and giggles as she leaves you in the middle of the beach.

But it wasn't dark like you had anticipated it to be, instead the perimeter was decorated with fairy lights and candles, which surprisingly didn't go out.

But something that shined brighter than any light on that beach was Jungkook.

He walked towards you and got down on one knee. His heart pounded with a mixture of nerves and excitement. He took your hand in his, feeling the warmth of your touch against his skin, grounding him in this moment of pure love and vulnerability.

You immediately knew what this was, "J-Jungkook..."

The air is filled with the scent of saltwater and the sound of seagulls in the distance, creating a serene backdrop for what is about to unfold.

"My dearest Y/N," he began, his voice quivering with emotion, "From the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that my life would never be the same. You've been my guiding light, my source of strength, my reason to smile even on the darkest of days."

You smiled, the love was evident in every action of his.

"Do you remember our first kiss? Or hell, our first date at the old people park? Looking at you that day, I realised, you were the only one I've ever wanted in my life. The love that you gave me, I have only strived to return it to you."

He pulls out a small purple velvet box from his pocket.

"So, you let me be your first kiss, but would you let me be your last? Will you... Kim Y/n, marry me?"

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"I'll be late again, don't stay up." Jungkook said through the phone.

"I know, but I was hoping to help you relieve some stress today." You bite your lip.

He chuckled, "I'll be fine, I promise. Now be a good girl and go to sleep, yeah?"

"Alright, just be safe. Love you."

Jungkook had been coming awfully late for the past few months. Something about his dad's company being passed down to him. But when he did come home at 4 in the morning, he held a particular scent which seemed really familiar to you.

You weren't a fool afterall, it was a perfume, a ladies' perfume. But you knew, Jungkook had a sensitive nose, he preferred women's perfumes more than men's strong colognes.

And you knew, Jungkook did not have a single female in his life except his mother and his cousins.

So you didn't think much or pay much attention to your husband sneaking inside the covers at 2 in the morning, holding that familiar scent again. You were half asleep, your back to him, when he came anyways.

But you did pay attention to the bedroom door opening and realising that Jungkook was still in bed with you, but you hoped you were dreaming.

You could hear the smirk in Jungkook's voice when he whispered, "Such a whore, followed me home, did you?"

"Couldn't get enough of you." Someone else whispered back.

Alright now you were on high alert. There was someone in your bedroom who was a woman.

You could feel the bed dip more when you assumed the woman climbed onto the bed.

"You didn't fuck me enough." The voice, which sounded so, so familiar, whispered. It was so familiar that you didn't want to recognise it.

"Come on now, Gaeul." Jungkook's words made your breath and heartbeat all stop at once. "Coming to my home like this?"

"Please?" Gaeul whispered.

"What if Y/n wakes up? You need to get out, you know." Jungkook sounded way too calm for your liking.

"What about it?" Gaeul whispered back.

You couldn't even process anything. The shuffling, the wet sounds, the whimpers. All seemed like a dream. But why would it hurt so much if it was a dream?

Amidst all the whispers and sighs, you only heard, or well, could fathom one thing.

"Why are you with this bitch anyways?" Gaeul panted, whispering long out the window.

The sounds, the smell, the lies, everything was too much for you. You felt as if you were under a bus. The metaphorical bus being 11 years of lies worth.

The realisation that Gaeul was the one who helped you with Jungkook in the first place. Jungkook never showed a single sign that they might be involved with each other more than how they were supposed to be.

The tears you shed during this entire ordeal were enough to drench the entirety of your pillow, your hair and the sheets under you.

The disbelief overtook your sadness and disappointment. You wanted to scream but you couldn't.

You could still hear the pants and the skin slapping when Jungkook said, "Don't know, she's a really good fuck."

#bts scenarios #bts fic #new writer boost #bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #bts fanfic #infedility #nucleo bang tan #kim seokjin #bts ask

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elllisaaa · 5 months

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Can you do sub Beomgyu smut?

[cuz I'm a female dom, and I absolutely fucking love hove bratty he is and his whines make me- well, wet]

uk those fics where the reader, teases them in public and they punish xer/xim in the bathrooms/public???

can you do that with sub beomgyu, and rough and dom reader[any gender is fine, preferrably female]?

only if you're comfortable though...

ALL MINE - C. BEOMGYU

-> pairing : brat sub!beomgyu x fem dom!reader

-> words count : 1.6k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : dom/sub dynamic, teasing, dirty talk, praising, semi-public sex, face slapping, cock slapping, gagging, humiliation, bondage, choking, use of 'good boy', 'whore', 'slut' and 'miss', handjob, cum eating

+ the way i'm depicting beomgyu does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : i fucking love to write subby men, and beomgyu and his bratty attitude gives me the perfect opportunity to do so. as you said, he gives out that vibe so much ! it was so fun to write this, thank you anonie, hope you'll enjoy this !

-> masterlist | txt masterlist

Going out with your friends had always been an activity that you liked, the feeling of joy when you reunited with them couldn’t be compared to anything else. But now that you were taking Beomgyu with you, it was even more fun. Why ? Because he wanted to impress your friends so badly, he wanted to make a good impression on them. That’s why he kept trying to present himself in a good light, and acting as if he was the one leading your relationship when you both knew that behind closed doors, you had him on his knees for you.

Despite that being well established, and your rules being really strict, Beomgyu had been not so subtly touching you the whole night : putting his hand on your thigh, leaning in to whisper some dirty things in your ears, and even taking your own hand to bring it closer to his crotch under the restaurant table. Not that you particularly minded playing this type of game in public, but it wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You had made it clear to him before going out - that he will get his reward for having been good all week if he did one last thing for you, which simply consisted in behaving and not teasing you during this dinner out.

After spending two years together, you thought that you would have finally succeeded in taming his bratty attitude. But no. It was coming out every now and then, and always when you were the most frustrated and had the least patience left. It was almost as if Beomgyu had a second sense that allowed him to know when to mess with you just so he could get punished harshly. Well, truth be told, maybe it was exactly why he was doing this - because he knew that the way you were going to torture him will be delicious.

“- Haven’t I made it clear, baby ? Keep your hands off me tonight and you’ll get what you want, okay ?”

Beomgyu threw his best pleading eyes at you, still not listening to your orders as you felt his fingers creep up higher underneath your dress. You let out an exasperated sigh, pushing his hand away from you. Under the guise of getting closer to you, your boyfriend nuzzled his head in your neck, whining in your ears.

“- But I need you so bad, I’ve been good, just let me touch you, I’ll be quick.

- You know what, you wanna be a slut and a brat ? You’re gonna get punished instead. Go to the bathroom and wait for me.”

For once, Beomgyu listened, getting up from the table and excusing himself. You let some minutes go by, and when you felt like he had been marinating for long enough, you got to the bathroom too, saying that you were going to see if your boyfriend was doing good.

“- You’re not even able to not touch yourself for ten minutes ? You’re a fucking whore Beomgyu.

- Y-Yes but only for you.”

His cocky smile despite his shake voice and his hands stroking his clothed boner made you want to break him, to wipe the smug look in his eyes. You entered fully in the small cabin of the bathroom, pushing him to sit down on the toilets. You locked the door behind you and detached the ribbon you put in your hair before going out.

“- Give me your hands.

- No.”

The loud sound your hand produced when you slapped him echoed in the bathroom along with the moan he let out. You grabbed his hair roughly, tugging on them to get him to look at you. His once confident look was now completely gone, his eyes glassy and he was almost ready to drop on his knees. But he loved to test your patience even more. So he still didn’t give you his hands, and moaned again when you slapped his other cheek.

“- You’re getting on my fucking nerves Beomgyu, if you wanna cum you better give me your hands.”

Without saying a word, he did it and you tied them together with your little pink ribbon. It was quite funny how you were always dressed so cute, with cute little make-up and cute little hairpins, but once you were alone with him, you turned into the nastiest little demon. And Beomgyu loved this contrast, loved to know how people could never suspect the real dynamic of your couple.

“- See ? You know how to be good so behave.

- But I don’t wanna.

- You will when I’ll make you cry. All it takes is for me to touch your small dick and you’re begging for me to let you cum, right ?”

Beomgyu wanted to protest, to say something, but you were already squeezing his hard cock through his clothes, stroking him at a quick pace, that had him squirming in place and whimpering out loud. Your other hand came up to his throat, getting a firm hold of it, enough to shut him up a little.

“- Y/N… Baby, baby…

- What ? You’re complaining now ? You’ve got what you wanted though, or is it still not enough for you, fucking slut ?”

Your boyfriend nodded as he tried to free his hands from the ribbons, but you had grown too used to tying him up because he was constantly acting up. It felt good to be completely at your mercy, but he also wanted to touch you, wanted to feel and lick your skin, wanted to grip on the flesh of your ass while you bounced on his cock and milked him dry.

“- You’re so greedy. You’re gonna take what I give if you wanna cum, understood ?

- A-And if I don’t want t-to ?”

A sinister smile spread on your lips, your hand squeezing his throat harder, making him choke on his own words.

“- Then you don’t cum at all.”

You let go of his cock, going as far as taking a step back and Beomgyu’s eyes opened wider. He tried to reach your hand and pull you back to him, but his tied wrists wouldn’t allow it and he let out a desperate whine.

“- No, no, no, I need to cum !

- Beg for it.”

He shook his head and earned himself another slap, his cheeks starting to get red, and not only because of the unbearable heat of his body. But he loved how much it stinged everytime you hit him again. Beomgyu let out another loud moan when you slapped his cock over his clothes this time, and you shoved two fingers inside his mouth, smirking at the way he gagged around them, and at how quickly his eyes welled up with tears.

“- I said, beg for it. Are you ready to be good now ?”

You slapped his hard on once more, staring at his face when a tear rolled down his left cheek, saliva starting to drip down his chin and neck. When you pulled your fingers out, he was a mess, and you knew you had finally ruined him for the day.

“- Please, please miss I’ll be your good boy now, I’ll do everything you want, just let me cum please, please !

- There we go baby, was it so difficult, uh ?”

When you slipped your hand in his boxer to touch him for real after having been deprived from the skin to skin contact for such a long time made him cry out so loud you had to shut him up with your fingers again, fearing that someone would hear him.

“- You want everyone to hear you, is that it ? Screaming like the slut you are because you love the attention ?”

Beomgyu tried to protest, tried to say that he only wanted to be good for you, that he made all these noises because he knew you loved it when he was loud, but the pleasure was already overtaking his body and all his senses. The rush of adrenaline this situation was giving him made him feel so overwhelmed he felt like he could cum right now. He grabbed the only thing he could reach - the fabric of your dress - to catch your attention, his muffled noises giving away how close he was to his release.

“- What is it baby ? You’re close already ?”

You chuckled when he vigorously nodded his head, closing his eyes to focus on him and trying to delay his orgasm because you hadn’t given him permission to cum.

“- I’ll let you cum then, but on one condition baby. You’re gonna stain your pretty pants with your cum, and then we’re gonna leave. And if you follow my rules for once, I’ll reward you once we get home. Did you understand ?”

He nodded once again, his hips jerking into your hand as if they had a mind on their own.

“- Then go on baby, cum all over yourself, be my good boy.”

The last praise that you whispered in his ear did it for him. He came all over your hand and himself, a wet patch quickly forming on his blue jeans as he whined around your fingers, his own hands tugging on the material of your dress to pull you closer to him. Before he could even register what you were doing, you showed him your hand covered in his cum, and Beomgyu didn’t need you to ask him before he started cleaning you off, eating his own release from your skin. Once you were satisfied, you finally detached his hands, letting him pull you into a hug and bury his head against your stomach while you threaded your fingers through his hair.

“- You did so good for me baby, such a good boy.”

He hummed in agreement, his hands sliding from your lower back to your ass, giving them a squeeze.

“- Does this mean I earned my reward ?

- Don’t get too confident now, you still have to make it up to me for ruining my night out with my friends.”

And Beomgyu agreed with you, because that meant he would spend the next two hours with his head buried between your thighs - his favorite way to apologize.

-> i don't allow any copies, translations or reposts of my works.

txt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @lichyuu @foxinnie8

#txt #txt fics #txt x reader #txt smut #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut #eli's anonie #eli answering your questions

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sickuma · 1 year

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Hello, this maybe kinda out of the fiction you always write. But can i ask for some doctor x reader fanfiction? Make it angst please, i will pay for my therapy bills!! 😁😁😁

PATIENT AT ROOM 224 — a Miguel O'hara fiction.

❱ The first actual request ill cover! I have a few lined up but I wanted to do this one first since I got the idea^^ tysm for the request <3 I hope this is to your liking (●'◡'●) Also if some things don't make sense, I barely know things about hospitals pardon me, I'm 15 and have yet to learn more about such gaahhh this one is pretty long!

ꜝ？ Warning. . angst! mentions of chronic illness, death, and such. ﹟paring | doctor Miguel x patient reader

➴ SYNOPSIS — You suffer from an illness without a cure, and your doctor Miguel tries hard to fasten the pace of formulating that cure. Time is not in your favor, you have one wish and it's to see the ocean for the last time. Along with your goodbyes, he revealed a confession.

NEPENTHE — (n.) An ancient Greek word, nepenthe is defined as a medicine for sorrow. It is a place, person, or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering.

It’s been four years,

Four years since the hospital became your home, four years since this became your reality. Exactly four years since you’ve been a prisoner of your own health, in constant risk of losing your life. It took a while to accept, but four years have passed, and you knew there was nothing else you can do but sit and wait for the inevitable.

A part of you never let go of that speck of hope,

Maybe you still have a chance, maybe you can still live. You want to live. Despite being quiet and accepting of your situation, the fear was undeniably there, and it grows every day. You don't want to die, you’re scared, it’s frightening.

It seems you’re not the only one feeling that way,

In front of you stood your doctor, Miguel. He’s been in charge of you for years now, he’s been there since the very beginning. It’s starting to feel like he’s the only person you have ever since your family seldom visited. He had a nonchalant disposition, a permanent scowl on his face, and yet he feels homely.

“vitals are stable,” he spoke flatly, scribbling something on his paper. He had the glasses he wears on certain occasions, looking serious as always.

On most days he’s kept to himself, and on some rare occasions, he would speak to you. Things that aren't needed for your health, basic conversations that brought your head out of your wilting life. You appreciated that, knowing he isn't the type to converse or talk about personal topics. You always notice how his eyes look when he’d lay them on you,

Sorrowful? You’re unsure. But there’s definitely a hint of sadness in them, the type of look someone gives when they need to get something off their chest as if he needed to say something urgent. He never does.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, placing his clipboard down the table. Looking at you expectantly, his tone was gentler, softer, something his colleagues would find unusual. You smile at him like you always do, which he always found pleasant. “Just like the usual.” “No aches? How about your difficulty with breathing?”

“None.” you lie, You know it’s stupid to be lying to your own doctor but the last time you told him about it, he looked destroyed. You find out he didn't sleep a wink that week, checking the lab and giving them consistent assistance in finding the cure. Breathing isn't that hard—you've grown used to it. You didn't want to cause him that state ever again. You're aware of your condition, and you can almost predict what the future will be, there was no need to stress him out more than he already is.

He looked at you, searching for any signs of lies only for you to chuckle at him. Stifling a laugh which actually made it difficult to breathe, but that didn't matter. “I’m feeling great.”

He sighed, taking his glasses off to massage his temple. “Are you okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “Just worried.” you smile at his response, it’s nice to know someone cares enough to worry for you. But surely he’s only doing it for the sake of his job, it’s his duty to worry for you, still it felt nice.

“Do you think I’ll ever see the ocean again? I want to visit the beach, is there a chance?” you drift the subject subtly. It was your turn to look at him expectantly, for a brief moment he had a look of guilt, you know well why. “If I can, I want to see the ocean again.”

“Soon,” he mumbles, turning away from you to open a drawer. “You just—I’ll take you there. When things get a little loose, I’ll take you to see the ocean.”

“You will?”

He was shaken, stumped but he can't let you see that. Gathering what’s left of his solace, solace which you've been providing for the last few years. "We'll see the ocean."

"That's a promise."

The reason why he’s so gentle with you, why he sugarcoats the rough truth as much as he can, why he promises you such things, he doesn’t know why. With you he feels a sense of solace, was it when you speak? The sound of your voice? that mellow look in your eyes? What is it? Countless sleepless nights were earned simply because he tries to find the answer, no matter how much he distances himself to do his job properly and realistically,

You would always be sitting up on that bed, glancing up at him with your tired expectant eyes accompanied by the gentlest smile he has ever come across with. Before he knows it, he’s promising you a cure that probably won't be formulated until a few years. Until you’re not able to wake anymore.

“Rest up, I’ll do another test tomorrow.” “Do you really promise?” you pry, looking up at him with a smile. A genuine one.

“Yeah, I promise.”

﹐

“The patient at room 224, [name] right?” another doctor spoke from behind him, stopping him dead in his tracks, hearing your name. “Their vitals. It wasn't stable.” “You’re lying to them, Miguel.”

Miguel breathes in, turning to look at the owner of the voice. His gentle complexion faded away, replaced by his common scowl. “How long will you foolishly wait for this cure?”

"It takes years, Miguel. Centuries even, to formulate a cure, you of all people know that." the man spoke with worry, Miguel knew he was only concerned and yet he felt almost enraged.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

"This isn't about opinions. That person, they're suffering. God, we need to let them rest, we have the family's wish." argued the man, he now had a frown on his face clearly unsure of Miguel’s intentions. “You’re letting their weak heart grasp on a false hope.”

"What about their wish?" he was angry, and he expressed it freely. “The family’s wish? The same family who barely visited them?”

He breathes in his frustration, he can't afford to lose his cool. Especially now that you're in a terrible state.

His colleague was silenced. Looking at him with hesitance.

"Why are you insisting so much? You're a doctor, they're your patient. You have a duty."

"That duty is to protect and keep them alive," Miguel interjects, he’s had enough of this argument, he hated it. He hated how right his colleague was, and yet he choose to be stubborn. "They want to live."

"And I'll make sure of that."

"You have never been this determined for a patient, especially when you know full well what the outcome will be." he waved his hand upwards, stressed at Miguel’s foolish antics "It's inevitable. It's a chronic illness for God's sake."

For the first time, he's stumped, he doesn't have the answer. All he knows is that he wants to keep you alive, he needs to keep you alive,

For your sake or his?

He stares at you, lying on the bed just as you've been for half of the year. Exhaustion is evident even with your sleeping form, Your life was faltering, you know it, He knows it. And yet for some reason, it's a fact he can't accept. For years of his profession, not once has he cared this much for a person.

It was more than that.

For years of working in this hospital, not once has he been fazed over a patient's condition. No matter how heartless that sounded, he never cared to this extent.

Yet the idea of putting you down hunts him. The idea of putting you down as if you're some sort of animal without control over your own life, without a say in your own life. It taunts him,

To the point he struggles to sleep, often staying up to check up on the cure's status. Staying up worrying about the passing time,

"If I can, I want to see the ocean again."

His eyes squint in conflict, memories of your sorrowful wish passing through his mind. If he could show you the ocean, he would. If he could show you the world you missed out on, he would. You deserved it, more than anyone, you deserved everything he can give.

He felt enraged, not because of the workload he has to push through. But for not knowing why it hurts him so much to witness you wilt, he feels confused and conflicted. The growing ache in his heart adding up to his stress,

“I'll talk to them tomorrow Miguel.” his colleague decided sternly, “ill tell them the truth and they will decide. You can watch but you can’t oppose.”

He walks away, leaving Miguel before he could even respond or disagree. Frustration surges through him though it can't compare to how helpless he felt. This was his only way of helping you, even that can get taken away, it feels like a stab in the throat. Slamming his office door shut, he sat on the chair, palming his face. “fuck.”

﹐

“What's happening here?”

Miguel spoke with a perplexed look, there were about 4 people inside your room. Papers in their hands. While you laid on the bed, signing the papers obediently, looking even weaker than the day before. “Miguel!”

You greet him with that stupid smile you always have, why were you smiling? Miguel could feel his nerves rise, seeing all the people and how they looked at him with fright.

“[name] what’s this?” he looks at you, pushing through the people to draw near you.

“They're fixing the documents for the euthanasia.”

He didn't open his mouth to speak for a few minutes, gathering enough strength and making sure he heard you correctly. “Get the hell out.”

He didn't need to repeat it, a man took the signed papers from you and everyone left the room shortly. Leaving you with an angry man who used to be the gentle Miguel who visited you daily to promise you a better life. “Why?”

He asks. He knew he was acting out of line as your doctor. But at this moment he wasn't your doctor, he was Miguel. The man who soothes your sleepless nights, the man who sticks with you even off duty, the only man who cared enough. He didn't say anything else, he simply looked at you with disappointment and sadness,

“They told me the pain only gets worse from here,” you humor a laugh. “If there's a worse pain than what i have right now, I don't think—I can only imagine what that would be like.”

“You didn't wanna die.” he interrupts, a frown evidently shown on his face. “You told me, you're scared.”

He looked almost devastated, well he is. It was obvious just from the look of his eyes, he wanted you to answer, and he wanted you to answer truthfully.

You breathe in, the smile falling soon enough. “I know, I am, I really am scared.”

“But I've been—it’s been like this for four years, how long will I trap myself in this situation? How long will I keep making myself suffer? Im just… tired. I want to live, I really do but if living means staying inside the hospital walls and consisting of lab tests, excruciating pains, and breathing difficulty, then I don't think that’s living at all.”

He looks away, dawning on him just how selfish he sounded. Asking you why, barging in hoping to convince you otherwise. It was selfish of him. All this time he was focused on what he wanted and needed, constantly going to extents just to save you for his sake,

He nods, “I'm sorry I just—” he paused looking back at your eyes. I really wanted you to stay he wanted to say it out loud, but he felt it was not necessary. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

His eyes widened briefly, looking at her with disbelief once again. “So soon?” his voice was weak, a fleeting look of desperation in his eyes.

“I asked for that.” you looked away fiddling with the blankets. That’s when he noticed you weren't sitting up like you usually were, if his predictions were correct it was because your body was too weak to manage sitting up. It was once again this illness, slowly eating away your life against your will,

He felt his heart sink deeper, feeling more affected than he ever was. He wanted to shout, he wanted to convince you to retract your signage, anything to make you stay, but that wasn't his decision to make.

It was yours, it was your right.

He won't defy you as everyone else did. If it’s truly what you wish then he would support you, no matter how heavy it feels to the heart, he’ll wholeheartedly support you like he always has.

“Then…”

He pauses, causing you to look back at him weakly waiting for him to continue.

“I promised to take you to see the ocean right.”

It was his turn to look away, suppressing the tears that threatened to fall. Its been decades since he last cried, yet he finds himself weak for you, refusing to let the tears fall. Not wanting you to see just how affected he was, he didn't want you to worry knowing you will.

“Let's go see the ocean, okay? Before you go,” he had to pause every few seconds, afraid another word will cause him to break down. "Like I promised."

“Let’s go see the ocean together.”

﹐

It was almost dawn, he never left your room ever since that conversation. He stayed all day and during the night, watched you fall to sleep, rubbing the back of your hand as you doze off. He felt his heart break with every passing hour,

Knowing that it’ll come eventually. The time he’ll have to let you go.

He watched as your calm expression fall to slumber, it was the first time he’s ever seen you so serene. You would always have this tired expression as if everything in the world pained you, for some reason he knew some parts of that was true. This life truly failed you, you deserved better.

Yet you smiled and accepted your fate. He could remember just how happy you looked when he broke the news about the ocean,

At that moment, he witnessed genuine happiness from you. It was the first time he saw your full smile, it wasn't a half smile, not a small one, it was real. And he loved it, he wanted to look at it forever, to admire it as much as he can. Perhaps that's what made this so bittersweet,

Despite his desire for you to stay, he prioritized what you wanted, what you needed.

As long as you’re happy, he's at peace.

“[name], it’s time to go,” he whispers, gently waking you up. Stuffing his keys deep into his pocket, “Let’s go see the ocean, amor.”

He didn't care about what he was saying nor what he just called you, he was just focused on fulfilling your wish. He needed to hurry before the sunrise, he wanted to watch it with you. If this would be the last sight you see before you go, he wanted it to be the most beautiful youve ever seen.

Your eyes fluttered open, greeted by Miguel picking your limp body up in his arms to carry you toward his car. He was gentle, careful not to hurt or cause you discomfort, it made your heart leap with joy and ache at the same time,

“We’re going to see the ocean now?” you ask excitedly, a bit of rasp to your voice from the sleep. His face scrunched up, biting his lip to suppress his emotion.

“Yes,” he responds, attempting to sound just as thrilled as you are. “Yes, we are.”

The drive wasn't long, nor was it eventful. It was mostly silent, with a few remarks from you ranting about how much you loved the beach as a child and how excited you are to see it along with the sunrise. He was fulfilling two wishes of yours, you couldn't be more grateful.

On the other hand, he drove silently. Responding to your stories ever so often, occupied with his sinking heart. He was happy, truly, seeing you look so lively,

It was the most life he’s ever seen from you in your four years of seeing each other in the hospital walls. It hurts him a tad bit, how easily pleased you are, how failed you are by everything in your life.

He had to gather himself, he needs to be happy for your sake. Seeing you peer through the window with a smile, it was like your eyes were shining with excitement, it caused a bittersweet smile to his lips. “We’re here.”

The two of you were just in time, a few minutes before dawn passes with the sunrise on its way. He carefully picked you up from the car, seeing your smile from the corner of his eyes, it was the brightest, at least the brightest smile he's ever seen from you. And you smiled a lot all throughout that four years.

He felt the sand sinking his shoes as he walked with you in his arms, walking until he reached a spot he deemed perfect. “I can stand,” you eagerly spoke, looking at him expectantly.

He would've refused if this was just a normal day, but this was your last day. He wouldn't reprimand you any joy you want. With support, he drops you carefully, holding your waist and your hand on the other. Your legs trembled, they hurt but you ignored it, too busy looking ahead to even feel the excruciating pain all throughout your body. He made sure to hold and support you properly,

“It’s pretty,” you mumble, mesmerized by how the sun slowly made its way to exposure.

You looked ahead, while he looked at you. “It is.”

He knew it wouldn't be long until the tears form, so he savored the moment to admire your face before his eyes blur out with tears. “Should we sit?”

You nod, looking at him briefly before you return your gaze to the front. Taking in the breeze and the scenery, it was painful yet beautiful. You wouldn't ask for more,

“Thank you, Miguel.”

He was silent, letting you speak. “I never thought I could be this happy, but I’m really really happy. My heart could jump!” chuckling at your own words, you turned to him. Tears were evident from your eyes, he disliked it, it made his tears threaten to fall as well. “I really really am happy. Truly.”

“No,” he spoke, looking ahead this time. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for everything.”

You looked at him in confusion, letting out a short laugh. “But for four years i was just at that very bed. What did I do for you worth gratifying for?”

“Existing.” he says calmly, “thank you for existing.”

It was your turn to be quiet, looking at him and observing his expression carefully. It was the first time he outwardly showed emotions, tears brimming in his eyes. They made yours fall even more. “Thank you for existing and waking my heart.”

“Waking… your heart?”

“Yes,” he responds, with a smile. The very first time you saw his smile, it was a sight truly. A beautiful one, almost on par with the ocean and the sunrise. “Thank you for making me love again.”

His words were unexpected but you kept quiet, taking in his confession. He was pouring his heart out, calmly and painfully. It was almost confusing, yet it was beautiful.

“I loved you the moment you smiled at me. The moment you looked at me in a way only you will—I know it’s odd, I know it’s unusual but I haven't stopped loving you since.” he looked back at you, holding you in his arms as you both sat on the sand.

He had a look of hurt, but a look of acceptance mixed in with a thousand emotions he had on display “When I look at you, I don't want to look at anything else but you.”

“I want to care for you, I wanted to protect you—I wanted to save you.” he was letting himself cry. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to be vulnerable “I won't ask you to return that love. Because it's yours and yours only.”

“Miguel.” you barely whispered, ignoring the pain that gnawed on your body.

“I'll keep loving you,” “I'll love you today, ill love you tomorrow, I'll love you forever.”

You both were a crying mess and for some reason, it felt right. The serene breeze of the ocean, the light of the sunrise. It was a perfect moment, the pain was indescribable but none of you would have wanted anything else at this moment. You didn't speak, only looked at him as he does to you. Even without words he knew, the way you stared at him with tears-stained eyes, he knew you understood, he knew you heard him.

He stifles a short laugh, “It's a bit unfortunate for me but if I were to fall in love once more, I’ll choose you over and over again.”

You laid your head on his chest, letting him hold you in your last moments. Closing your eyes, pushing out the tears which didn't seem to stop,

“Until I'm nothing but a fading memory to this world, ill keep loving you even then.”

“If I was given a chance to live, I would have wanted to spend it with you like this as well.” you smile at his chest, intertwining your fingers with his. Feeling yourself falter and falter every passing moment, “There wasn't a moment where your love wasn't reciprocated, Miguel.”

He held you, tightly but gently. Tight enough to not let you go, gently enough to allow you to feel his love. Your words strike his heart in every right way, in every painful way.

“Thank you for unknowingly saving me.”

As the sun rise, the silence of the place allowed him to grieve, giving him space to accept what has passed. He stared ahead, caressing your hair gently, as you depart in his arms. Where you belonged, where you wanted to be.

It was a wonder why the skilled doctor always had a scowl on his face, who knew the patient at room 224 was all it takes to wake his sleeping heart.

this was a fun to write (●'◡'●) bandaids for everyone?

( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

this is unedited!!!

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