#tea length formal

[mididressobsessed]

Source: gemgrace.com

#a line dress #formal dress #tea length dress #black dress #lace dress #elegant dress #feminine dress

[suziwest-dresscollection]

#vintage #dress #1950s #formal #tulle #white #red #midi #tea length #strapless #cotillion formals #prom

[lunss-couture]

Pink Ruffled Strap Detachable Sash Flower Girl Dress

This beautiful light pink tea-length flower girl dress features elastic ruffled straps sweetheart neckline with zipper back closure and a detachable sash. The soft tulle overlay steals the show on this frothy dress.

#pink #tulle #flower girl dress #formal dress #tea length dress #lunss #custom made #cute baby dress #sash

[evielmostdefinitely]

Hi!! I love your snow fics! I would love to see more of them on the tour through the districts

treat me rough |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, more honeymoon smut :) also the title is from the song treat me rough by ella fitzgerald which just reminds me of coriolanus and reader haha.

contains: smut 18+. dom!coriolanus and sub! (kinda bratty) reader. possessive, controlling, mean/hard dom!coryo. dom/sub themes. bratting. spanking / pussy slapping (with hand). pinvsex.

“You’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Coriolanus growled through gritted teeth, a firm hand on your bicep dragging you to the train’s station. 

You bit back a smile, trying to hide the giddy excitement you felt. Your devious little plan had worked. 

It had been nearly a week since your wedding, since the start of the tour from district to district. A makeshift of a honeymoon that you agreed to. Was it ideal? Not entirely, but at least you’d be together through most of it, Coryo had promised. 

He’d failed to mention his countless meetings and obligations that took up most of his time. When he’d finally return to the carriage, shoulders slumped and eyes heavy, you’d be waiting in your lingerie, obediently on your knees ready to stuff his length down your throat. He’d let you, of course, but other than a half hearted fucking- you were left unsatisfied. 

You knew he was tired. You knew he was stressed and anxious about becoming the President of Panem. But this was your honeymoon. A start to the rest of your life, and if this was any indicator of how your life would change, especially in the bedroom, you were far from interested. 

By District Four, you’d had enough. You knew better than to pick a fight with Coriolanus, it would only frustrate him and he’d be likely to ignore you out of pure spite- he’d done it before. Instead, you hatched a plan. 

At the end of each day at the Districts, you and Coriolanus would join the Mayor and his spouse for tea. You and Coryo would never drink it, of course, he was paranoid about being poisioned by the rebels, but you’d sit and discuss formalities amongst the four of you. 

The Shefland’s were hospitable, a lavish house that sat near the lake where they could oversee their working people- you knew Coriolanus was pleased. They offered you a seat in their sun room, at a small, round table where they offered up Earl Grey and finger foods. Coryo and Mayor Shefland talked rebels, Peacekeepers, and other droning business, while you and the Mayor’s spouse sat obediently. 

For now. 

You placed your hand on Coryo’s thigh, simple and unsuspecting. He looked over at you, patting your hand affectionately, joining the conversation. Your cheeks flamed with daring adrenaline, staring at the poppy seed pastry in front of you, your hand sliding slowly up Coriolanus’ fine trousers. You’d start slow, enough to have him convinced you were doing it innocently, before starting up again. His breath hitched once, a firm squeeze to your hand, shoving it down his thigh towards his knee. 

The cut of his eyes, an icy side glance, you knew you were teetering on dangerous territory, but still not where you wanted to be. Coriolanus would chastise you at most, scold you and maybe take a ruler to your palms, but that wasn’t what you wanted. 

And you always got what you wanted. 

Your hand moved, boldly, resting right on his crotch. Coriolanus’ breath hitched, faltering just for a moment, before you squeezed his length lightly through the fabric, palming his length. Coryo cleared his throat, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

You frowned, brows creased in concern. “Darling, are you alright?” You hummed innocently, leaning forward, pressing further into his crotch. 

“Yes,” Coryo hissed, eyes narrowing at you. He cleared his throat, apologizing politely to the mayor, shoving your hand off his length, pressing it into your own lap with a warning squeeze to your thigh. 

You pressed your thighs together, practically squirming in your seat. It worked. Coryo was furious at your blatant brattiness, in a way you hadn’t seen since you first started dating, and it filled you with bubbling excitement. 

Coriolanus hadn’t stayed long after that, curtly thanking the Shefland’s a hand on your back, leading you towards the car. He’d contemplated yanking you over his knee right there, the driver be damned, maybe it’d embarrass you. Instead, he kept his composure until you were alone, dragging you into the private carriage of the train. 

“I should call the Academy. Tell them to refund your father, because clearly they failed to teach you any etiquette.” Coriolanus sneered, shoving you lightly into the train, latching the carriage door behind him. 

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” You cooed innocently, nearly taunting. Coryo's fists tightened. “I thought I behaved very well for the Shefland’s-” 

“-For the Shefland’s.” Coriolanus snapped, taking a dangerous step towards you, towering over you. “But you don’t answer to the Shefland’s, you answer to me.” 

Your knees wobbled at his tone, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. His hand caught your chin easily, squeezing your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks, pulling your gaze up to him. “You know better.” Coryo growled. “You know better, and you still behaved that way.” 

You whined, his fingers curling tighter around your face. “You know how you act for me, how I expect you to behave.” Coriolanus sneered. “And you know what happens when you don’t.” The lingering threat in his tone had you throbbing painfully between your knees. 

Still, you whined in protest, wiggling to move out of his grip- defiant and bratty, just how you knew Coriolanus liked it. He loved breaking a brat, loved putting you in your place, though he’d never admit it. 

“They didn’t see, Coryo.” You huffed, a roll of your eyes that had him bristling, jaw clenched so tight he was sure his teeth might crack. “It’s our honeymoon, and you’ve been ignoring me.” You whined, a petulant pout that had his cock stirring. 

“Oh?” His tone was dangerous, teetering on amused and sinister. “That’s what this is about?” You whined, trying to wiggle out of his grip. “You acted like this because I’ve been ignoring you?” 

“I was just trying to get you excited.” You muttered, avoiding his hard gaze. “You’ve barely been with me, and-and we haven’t had sex in days and it’s our honeymoon, Coryo!” 

“Days?” Coriolanus scoffed. “We had sex this morning.” 

“Barely.” You muttered, his fingers tightening around you, jerking you towards him. 

“I’ve had enough.” Coriolanus snapped, voice booming, bouncing off the walls of the train’s carriage. You shrunk under his gaze, eyes rounded pleadingly. “You want my attention so badly, you impish little brat, then you have it.” His hand moved from your jaw, and for a moment, you were relieved- until it found its way to your hair, wrapping around your locks and tugging at the scalp. 

You whined, clawing at his wrist as he pulled you roughly towards the bed, sitting on the edge, hauling you over his knee. “Completely uncalled for, touching me like that.” Coriolanus snarled, roughly shoving the hem of your dress up over the swell of your ass. 

Your hands reached back, trying to push your dress back down. Coryo’s hands wrapped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back. “I should bind you.” Coryo spat bitterly, his hands squeezing around your wrist for emphasis. “Should take you out to the center of town and tie you to the whipping post. Show everyone how I handle my disobedient wife.” 

You shuddered at the thought, legs clamping together. Coryo’s brows lifted in amusement, hand smoothing over the bare skin of your ass. “You’d like that, wouldn't you? Filthy.” His hand fell heavy on your upturned ass, without a warning, a resounding clap! filling the air and leaving you breathless. 

“You will behave.” Coriolanus gritted, hand punctuating each syllable of the words with a stinging smack, satisfied at how you whined and wriggled in his grasp. “I will not have a disobedient, needy, bratty wife. Do you understand?”  

Your silence only infuriated him further, two hard spanks falling to the center of your bottom. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes, yes,” You panted, head swimming with a whirlpool of emotions- pain, pleasure, embarrassment, and blinding need. “Please, Corio.” Your hips raised, back arching low to reveal your puffy, wet lips, throbbing with need. 

Coryo’s cock was stiff, mouth watering at the sight. He longed to bury his face in your pussy, push your head into the pillows and devour you- but you didn’t earn it, not yet anyways. 

Instead, he grabbed you by your waist, letting you fall on your back into the soft duvet with a bounce, whining at the fabric brushing your inflamed skin. “Spread those legs.” Coriolanus’ eyes were dark, lust filled and dangerous. 

You parted your legs obediently, watching him carefully above you. His gaze on your pussy, tongue running over his bottom lip mindlessly. “Keep those spread or I won’t touch you at all tonight.” 

You whimpered at his threat, hands hooking under your kneecaps to spread your legs apart, on display for him. Coryo knelt between your legs, working the buttons of his shirt open until it fell open. You ogled at his toned chest, mouth filling with spit at the sight. 

“I think I need to get to the root of this issue.” Coriolanus hummed, tossing his shirt to the side. “You’ve been acting bad because of her, haven't you?” 

Your thighs squeezed, legs starting to close before he stopped you, a warning glare that had you shrinking. “What did I tell you? You don’t want me to touch you at all?” 

You shook your head. “N-No, Sir.” 

Coriolanus seemed pleased at the use of his favorite name, ego inflating at the title. He didn’t think you’d call him that so soon, so easily. Usually he had to push you a little further, until you were needy and desperate for him before you’d call him that. 

“I think I need to spank her.” Coryo’s eyes stayed on yours, kneeling between your legs. “Since she doesn’t know how to behave.”  

You whimpered, nails digging into the skin of your knees, watching him carefully. His eyes on yours, hand raising before it fell, not nearly as hard as the punishing spanks to your ass, but a stinging slap to your mound. One right after the other until he hit five, the last a particularly hard one over your clit that had your hips jolting and writhing. 

You spent the better half of the night, head lolling over the edge of the bed while Coriolanus shoved his cock down your throat, fucking your face until you gagged and cried and begged to be touched. When he finally did touch you, ass raised high, hands folded behind your back while he rode you, fucking you with a punishing vigor in front of the mirror. You drooled on the edge of the bed, whining and whimpering pitifully with every orgasm he pulled from you until he was finally spilling over your abused ass. 

The meeting with the Mayor of District Five was uncomfortable. You shifted in your seat at tea, grimacing behind tight smiles. Coriolanus bit back his own smirk, proud of his handimark that was undoubtedly the cause for your sudden obedience and clinginess. He rewarded you for being so well mannered by letting you sit on his face that night, devouring you while you rode his mouth and nose, hands gripping those golden locks you adored, your wedding ring scratching at his scalp.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x capitol!reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you #tbosas #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dom!coriolanus snow x sub!reader #dom!coriolanus #coriolanus snow x you smut #coriolanus x you #young!coriolanus snow #peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x reader #tbosbas x reader #tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #tbosbas fanfiction #tbosbas #tbosbas fic #ficrec #president snow #thg series #thg #the hunger games #coriolanus snow blurb

[chilumi-shipper]

Not Meant for the World

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Servant!Reader

Summary: You fell for him, he fell for you, it was the typical start of a relationship, only problem is… well, he's him and you're you. A Commissioner who holds power over the nation, and a servant that basically amounts to nothing in the whole scheme of things. It was a mutual decision to keep your relationship a secret, only to be kept within the dead of night in his bedroom, evaporating before the sun could even rise for another day. But then… Ayato seems so keen keeping it a secret forever, letting the stream of wedding proposals and love letters flood in, going through great lengths to make sure the information doesn't leak out, almost like he's ashamed of being with someone like you. You could only take so much of that.

Tags: Angst no Comfort, Hidden Relationship

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You should probably go back to your quarters." As you were snuggled up to your lover's chest, enjoying his warmth under the covers of his bed, he spoke.

"But it's barely time." You whined, pressing your body closer to his and rubbing your face on his chest.

Back then, he would cave, he would chuckle and wrap his arms tighter around you, saying that you could stay for a little bit more and that he didn't really want you to leave anyway.

Now… he pulls away from your embrace, sighing as he looks you in the eye.

"It would be best to elliminate all the chances of us being caught, and I believe that some of the servants have been getting up early to start their shifts." He reasoned, his hold faltering as you feel his arms slip off you.

You felt a clenching pain in your chest as you slowly get up, looking around his room, you didn't want to leave, and yet when you looked at him, you felt like you were being pushed away.

"Okay… I guess I'll get going now…"

This is the part where he would usually kiss you and remind you that he loves you…

It never came…

You left his room without another word.

…

"Is it perhaps too much to visit a festival together?" You asked, not expecting a pleasurable answer from the Yashiro Commissioner sat on his office chair and drinking a cup of tea you prepared for him.

"I believe it is, being seen in public in a non-professional setting would be rather suspicious if it's just the two of us." Ayato responds firmly, oblivious to (or perhaps just ignoring) the frown that formed on your face.

"We've been out together multiple times…" You reasoned, though you sounded unsure, not wanting to sour his mood and lessen your chances of getting him to agree to your proposal. "We haven't been on a date in a while."

"The families offering up their daughters to me are very vigilant of my public movements, suspicions will arise if they were to see me with any lady for no particular reason." He did not even spare you a glance, answering swiftly as he always does.

Yet again, you fail to persuade him to be with you. You prepared to say more, but a knock came before your words.

A guest came to the estate, a father of one of the many noble ladies offering their hand in marriage.

Long story short, he's here to talk marriage business, as these fathers always do.

When the guest left for a moment, "My lord, I just need a few more minutes to talk to you." Many times, you have tried to intervene, not satisfied with how your conversation earlier abruptly ended.

"Y/N, there are matters more important than this. Wait a moment." He pays you no mind, but you have had enough. "You are being too obv-"

"Ayato, stop." You spoke firmly, freezing him in his place. "I'm still talking to you." You approached him, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, he turned around to face you, his eyes held an unfit expression for him, almost like nervousness. "Y/N, let's not do this now…"

"Do you still want to be with me?" You asked impulsively, stripping the formalities and simply talking to the man you knew as your lover. Your eyes fill with tears, looking at him being lost for words. You hoped his answer would be immediate, that he would exclaim that why would you even ask such a question.

As you stood there, "Lord Kamisato, come along, don't let the servant keep all of our time." The guest came back, standing beside Ayato, who had yet to say anything.

No words were spoken, but the Commissioner knew that right there, right in front of the unknowing guest, in your watery gaze, he had a choice to make.

"Why don't you get us some tea in the meantime?" The guest spoke up again referring to you, but you have no intention of moving until your lover finally speaks up.

With a gulp, Ayato stood his ground. "Yes, please prepare us some tea, Y/N. No more of your nonsense."

A single tear, that's what you allowed for him to see as you nodded silently. But as you prepared the tea, your vision was blurry from the neverending tears, your sobs couldn't be controlled as you struggle to catch your breath.

But you needed that, you needed that to remind yourself that you are merely a servant.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The Yashiro Commissioner sat on his bed that night, looking at the door to his room. His heart was beating fast, hoping for it to open and show the figure of his lover, though the odds are against his desires.

He hoped that maybe you'd spare him a chance, that you'd walk into the room and tell him that you'll allow him to show you how you much he truly loves you.

The door remains close. And so does his heart begin to ache. Ayato didn't sleep that night, he merely lied down and looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine your warmth embracing him, trying to make it seem like your side of the bed wasn't left cold.

…

"My Lord…" His eyes looked up from the document he's been staring it for the past hour when he heard your voice… calling him in such a cold manner. You said nothing more, placing a tray of tea and pastries on an empty spot on his desk.

"Ahh, thank you…" Ayato looked at your face, hoping to see your usual smile whenever you served him his afternoon tea, yet your face held nothing but a blank expression. You merely bowed at him, before leaving without another word.

Your name was at the tip of his tongue, and his entire being screamed at him to just say it. He wanted desperately to call for your attention, but, though he did not want to admit it… he was scared…

You stopped in your tracks, remembering something that you had to discuss with him. Ayato, ever so perceptive of your actions, perked up.

"You have a meeting with the head of the Tenryou Commission later at noon, something about an agreement with regards to your relation with his daughter." You did not bother to face him to give him the reminder, opting to walk away once you finished your sentence.

The Yashiro Commissioner's face fell as he watched you leave the room, his heart still heavy, and his mind cursing at him for not having the guts to talk to you properly.

…

The pain felt more real once he entered his room for the night.

The place has been wiped clean of your existence, the covers have been changed so not even your scent lingered, some of the clothes you kept in his closet are gone, the vase of flowers you like to decorate his nightstand with is gone…

The framed picture of the two of you that sat on his nightstand is gone…

It felt suffocating…

With a sigh, Ayato closed the door, not wanting to see such a sad space, he instead went back to his office.

As he sat on his chair, he opened one of the drawers of his desk…

A smiled couldn't help but form on his face, a bittersweet one, when he saw the picture of you that he kept there a long time ago.

He laid his head on his arms on the desk, your picture next to his face. He figures that it was the only way he can sleep without feeling the suffocating emptiness of his room weighing upon him.

…

Today is the day the festival you were so excited about starts, and it's already been arranged for quite a while that today is your day-off. "…Y/N was really hoping that I'd join her at the festival." Half of

Thoma's words were muffled, but he could make out your name and the festival.

The blond retainer was asking for a day-off as well, to go with you.

Something uncomfortable boiled in Ayato's core, you asked him to join you back then, and he said that he couldn't. Yet, all he wishes now was to accompany you, to be by your side and not have to think about keeping your relationship a secret.

"With Y/N…?" Ayato asked, his voice laced with disappointment that did not escape his retainer's ears.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?"

Truly did his entire being want to disapprove of Thoma's request, he wants to go to you and offer to go with you himself.

"No, I'm quite alright, Thoma…" The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a sigh. "I'll allow your request."

You spent your day at the festival with Thoma, and it was obvious that you enjoyed it given the large smile that was plastered when you got back to the estate.

Meanwhile, Ayato spent his day at his desk, looking at meaningless paperwork while dreaming of being hand-in-hand with you at the festival, imagining that you would eat your heart out with all the streetfood available, watch the firework show when nighttime falls, and dance slowly at the festival music at midnight when everyone else already left.

That night though, he approaches you, his heart pounding when he caught your attention. "May I… ask you to sleep next to me again?"

He was tired, he could only take a week of sleeping in his office because his room haunted him too much. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know how to even start explaining himself, doesn't know how to win you back, to say that he does choose you over any form of nobility that he has.

You smiled at him… emptily.

"I'm your servant, my lord. If you wish for me to, I will."

So you did, you slept next to him, he hugged you tightly, snuggling you up to his chest, yet you refused to hug back, to nuzzle in his embrace like you used to. You merely did as you were requested.

Ayato tried to ignore the tightening of his heart just before sleep and exhausted took over him.

But he couldn't ignore the chill he felt when he woke up hugging nothing. It's just as it should be, the servant listened to her lord, and now she left to do her other tasks.

It was crazy to hope a relationship like yours could work out. Kamisato Ayato felt a few tears fall from his eyes, now, he wished for you to stay.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Yo, it's 3am and I'm gonna sleep now.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin imagines #genshin impact ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato angst #genshin ayato

[valkyrielevitt]

Hogwarts Fashion During Hogwarts Legacy

A cheat-sheet for making your writing/art historically accurate, and some inspiration for your MC - women's addition.

Victorian fashion was complicated, both in terms of the construction and the rules that dictated when certain garments could be worn. Age played an important role in what a person was permitted to wear, so lets break it down that way:

Younger Students (Roughly years 1-4)

Generally speaking, girls dressed in similar styles to their mothers, but with altered hemline lengths. Up until roughly 13-14 years old (exact ages were decided by the girl's family) her hemline would fall around the knee. At 14 it would be lowered to the middle of the shins.

At this age girls would wear dresses, and so you could suggest that Hogwarts uniforms for girls at this age would not consist of the shirt and skirt combo that MC and various NPCs wear.

Most schools in the 1890s did not have set uniforms, but instead girls were expected to wear an apron to protect their clothes from ink and chalk dust.

At this age it was still considered socially acceptable for girls to wear their hair down, or in more simple hairstyles like braids. Popular hair accessories included ribbons and straw hats.

Time for some examples:

This is an example of a day dress (casual clothes) from 1893. Smocking (the embroidery technique used at the collar, waist and cuffs) was popular in young girls clothes.

Another example of children in day dress. The girl on the far left is probably about 13-14, the older girl on the right is closer to 15.

An example of the aprons worn by younger students.

Details of the dresses worn underneath (technically from 1897 but the styles are fairly similar)

Details of the aprons worn

Older Students (Roughly years 5-7)

Around the time that the MC joins at Hogwarts, she would, depending on her personal preferences, have kept her skirt at her mid shin or dropped the hem to her ankles. Around the age of 17, girls would be expected to fully let down their hems to the floor, signifying their shift to adulthood.

At this point dresses would become less popular during the day, and were replaced by blouses (complete with very large sleeves) and a skirt. Men's tailoring and sports clothes shaped women's fashion at the time, and greatly influenced what girls wore at this age.

Girls would also typically stop wearing their hair down during the day, resorting to simple up-dos instead.

The time at which each girl made these changes depended on her and her family. While some girls had no choice but to listen to their parents, often they were able to bargain for an extra few months if they so wished.

An example of two girls around the age of 15 in very typical day outfits.

A selection of school girls - those sitting are no older than 14, those standing are no older than 16.

At the age of 15-16 girls would begin to attend more family functions and required new styles of clothes. These paintings show the same tea gown. These were made to be worn at home, never in public, when the family was hosted guests or a less formal dinner. They could be worn at all times of the day.

Day clothes for students who dressed as adults (17+):

A British Upper VI class (age 17-18) and some teachers in 1894. All girls now wear dresses with their hems on the ground, and hair tied up.

Middle class girls fashion in the 1890s

A Woman's sweater from 1895

Walking outfit from 1894 - essentially a more substantial outfit for spending time outdoors.

A more expensive version of a day outfit.

Tea gowns:

Generally identified by their loose fit, high neckline, and a train that falls from the shoulders. Additionally they may also be made with a large coat over the top. The shape was inspired by medieval fashion and so they're a good source of inspiration for the wizarding world imo.

Evening gowns:

Worn for the most formal evening events, and generally expose more skin than day clothes. Staple accessories included fans, opera gloves, and (if you're that way inclined) tiaras were coming into popularity at this time.

Rule of thumb for all fashion at this time, the sleeves get largest in the middle of the decade, and shrink back down again towards the end.

1894

1893

1898

1893-1895

1894

1898

#Wow first post on this account is the nerdiest thing i could possibly pick #enjoy! #hogwarts legacy #harry potter hogwarts game #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy art #hogwarts legacy mc #historical references #fashion references #1890s

[mm-lurking]

Emperor Blade AU brainrot

I'm struggling to finish my Blade wips so have this for today. Inspired by my interest in historical Chinese dramas (forgive me for my limited knowledge), Im writing this as 12am please don't mind me with the grammar mistakes etc thank you WC: 1000 ish Warnings: blade x fem! reader, NOT proofread! --- Emperor Blade who picks you during the wife selection stage. You, a middle-class woman with a clan that is neither too powerful nor weak, just ok. You, who compared to the many beauties with influence and high political power, are just average. But that doesn't matter to him as he calmly picks you from the list of candidates, dumbfounding his advisors and court members. Emperor Blade who only picked a wife because of the pressure his court was putting on him. In his thundering dominant reign of purging corruption and enemies, he had never considered being married even once. Marriage to him was an inconvenience and an unnecessary contract to sign.

Emperor Blade who keeps you at an arm's length, treating you just right so it's not controversial yet keeping you so distant that your only companion is your right handmaid. He doesn't speak much to you, and your conversations are short and out of formality. You barely see much of him as he spends most of his day running the nation and the times he is free he rarely visits you.

Emperor Blade who frankly doesn't care what you do or say, as long as you let him be and don't cause trouble. You're merely a pawn in his eyes, a pawn to get everyone to shut up and let him reign however he wants without interfering, that is -until you're pulled into the games of politics.

Emperor Blade whose eyes are raging with a fire his court members have never seen when a faction decides to take advantage of the awkwardness of your marriage and hurt you. He has never liked innocent people being involved in the deception and web of lies of politics. The anger in his voice followed by the withdrawal of his sword makes everyone present cower with fear as they rush to cease his anger so they can save their own heads.

Emperor Blade who works tirelessly at night to figure out who had dared to poison you so shamelessly without any consequences, his jawline clenched and knuckles white as he looks through all his reports to find the mole within the palace walls. Despite saying he doesn't have time for you before, he finds a way to visit you when you're unconscious in your bed, holding your hand as he looks over your peaceful face. Your touch is comforting yet foreign and despite his initial reservations, he finds himself wanting more.

Emperor Blade who rushes over to your chambers when he's informed that you're awake so he can see you for himself and breathe a sigh of relief. There is a twinkle in his eyes that you have never seen before but in your weak state, you shrug it off as your imagination. He swears to find the ones who have hurt you and promises to keep you safe. The tiny smile he shows you has you flabbergasted for the rest of the day.

Emperor Blade who does not hesitate to execute the perpetrators publicly as a warning for everyone to see, to fear the consequences of what would happen if anyone even thought about hurting his wife, his empress. He makes sure you're not watching so he doesn't subject you to the brutality of his role as the emperor. To him, he does not find the need to scare you with his powers. He does not want you to fear him.

Emperor Blade who is slowly but surely falling in love with you. You find yourself welcoming him into your chambers more and more as he drinks tea and chit chats about his interests with you, something you were confused by at first but now have become accustomed to. He loves how you eagerly listen to him and offer your opinions if asked while making sure he's comfortable in your space.

Emperor Blade, who swore to never fall in love, has his heart beating faster and faster whenever he sees you, his breath hitching in his throat when you pass by him in the halls wearing your beautiful gowns. Your scent is intoxicating and he finds himself addicted to you, unable to get enough of you.

Emperor Blade who asks you to accompany him to the pavilion to admire the moon one day. He asks you to wear your favourite gown and says nothing more, leaving you confused but curious. You comply as you meet him in front of your palace, shyly smiling as he admires you.

Emperor Blade who takes your hand into his own, causing you to gasp as the public display of affection. His grip is firm and unwavering, a sign that he doesn't plan to let go. He dismisses his guards and your maids, leaving only you two alone as you both walk to the pavilion and stare at the night sky. The moon is bright and beautiful today with stars that twinkle in the sky like jewels.

Emperor Blade who pulls you into his arms, lifting ur chin with one hand as he looks into your eyes. "You're beautiful", he murmurs causing you to blush. The faint redness of your cheek makes him chuckle as he draws closer. Your noses are touching and your hearts thumping.

Emperor Blade who before only viewed you as a pawn, an inconvenience and a waste of time, now looks at you endlessly as he flicks his gaze back and forth between your lips and your eyes, asking for silent permission as his grip on your waist tightens and the gap between you two closes.

Emperor Blade who asked you to keep your distance from him now closes the distance between you both with a kiss, a kiss that washes away every painful thing he had said to you before. The winds of the night embrace the both of you at this moment as if it were a sign of acceptance from nature itself, a thumbs up almost.

Emperor Blade, a man of fear, blood and formidable reign had now become a man of affection, love and security. A man who swore to never love and never be married is now a man who is deeply in love with you. As the night continues and the moon illuminates your figures, he promises to cherish you and be your man for the rest of your life. A man whose tenderness, warmth and devotion are reserved for you and only you to see. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

#honkai star rail #blade x reader #hsr x reader #hsr blade #blade hsr #blade x you #hsr angst #blade angst #blade x female reader #blade honkai #blade x y/n #yingxing #blade au #Blade simp #blade fluff #blade x fem! reader

[ackerifle]

Hello! Can you please do a scenario where reader comes to help Levi do paperwork in his office and he offers her some tea. She doesn't think much of it and drinks the tea, but soon starts to feel dizzy before going unconscious. The next day, she wakes up in his bed, naked, and wrapped in his arms.

paperwork date!

yan. captain levi ackerman x fem vice captain. reader

+ CW. — abuse of power & authority, drugging, slight gaslighting, implied: rape/non-con & somnophilia.

you are starting to believe that captain levi’s office is becoming yours with how often you spend your time there. even your fellow special operations squadmates tease you for your absence now that you’ve taken on the new — and quite precarious — position as vice captain. although you have yet to find a plausible reason as to why the captain promoted you in the first place, let alone allowed your entry into his meticulously handpicked squad. and coincidentally, you simply cannot recall the last time you had a break from captain levi’s overbearing presence, and his room, since becoming his vice captain.

oftentimes, at this late hour in the evening, it is you who brews and brings tea for captain levi— per his request, that is, and for whatever godforsaken reason that he has yet to divulge, but who are you to defy orders? the first day you had been requested to his office to assist with the arduous hours of labor that was completing paperwork, you had thought to prepare some tea. it was meant to be a kind, one-time, gesture of reassurance and camaraderie from your end. but now you fear that your captain’s become rather spoiled, as the second time around when you had showed up empty handed, he looked far from pleased.

so alas, you come to a standstill in front of his office’s door. pitch perfect posture, not a thread misplaced on your uniform, and hands settled onto the handles of a small silver platter tray. your eyes absentmindedly drift to the contents atop the salver: a ceramic teapot that is far too nice to have been found in the survey corps, two matching cups and saucers of the same lavish set, a dainty teaspoon, a creamer, and a bowl for sugar cubes accompanied by sugar tongs; and even though you know quite well that he doesn’t utilize the latter two dishware, you are adamant about keeping them for formality's sake. but you can’t help but feel that you’ve neglected to include something in the assortment.

due to your hands being held hostage by the tea that captain levi was so persistent on you delivering, you clear your throat to announce your arrival, “sir, it’s vice captain name.” he doesn’t entertain your salutation with a response of his own, but rather, gauchely slams open the door with concerning haste. you dwell on the fact that it was just too fast, even for someone of his caliber, almost inhumanely so, and it makes you speculate if levi was stationed right at the entrance, waiting for you.

levi’s expression is unreadable, but his frown is apparent as ever. he’s blocking the doorway with his body, one hand holding the door at arms length, and the other pointing inside the room towards the desk at the center of his office, “you, inside. now.” his voice is stern, addressing you as if he were reprimanding you for insubordination. it causes you to grimace, but you know better than to test levi’s last nerve.

you step inside, cautious as to not tip over any of the cups, or cause the tea you had spent such a fastidious amount of time brewing to overflow out past the flange of the teapot. hurriedly and heedfully all in the same, you navigate your way to the guest-side front of levi’s desk, avoiding the chair and stacks of paperwork in your way; and you are beyond attentive whilst lowering the silver plate down until it is completely flat on the table. you don’t release your white knuckled grip on the handles until you see the contents on the platter tray have stopped trembling. had you not been so immersed in your soundless struggle to appease levi’s strict cleanliness standards, you would have picked up on the sound of the door being locked.

sighing softly, relieved, you slump your shoulders and pull the chair beside you by its crest rail, wincing when it scrapes against the floor and creating an obnoxious screech in retaliation, before taking a seat. levi enters your line of vision from the left, and you flinch when he cuts unnecessarily close to you, enough for you to feel his uniform’s coat brush past yours, but not enough to feel his body beneath it. a scowl instinctively makes its way on your face, one that you cannot hide, and you’re thankful he didn’t catch it, faced away from you entirely. levi swivels his heel with sharp precision once he’s stood on his side of the desk, standing in front of his chair, but he doesn’t sit.

there is a pair of inkwells on the desk, wedged between the piles of untouched documents, and you take hold of the one that still has its lid sealed on. near to the opened inkwell are a couple of feather pens, one is in rough condition, and two seem untainted by the ink and whatever iron grip they were unfortunately subjected to for the past few hours. you retrieve the one furthest from the middle of the table, and when it finally dawns on you that levi has still yet to make a move to sit down after a lengthy silence, you hesitantly tilt your head to take a glance in his direction.

he appears in deep thought, concentrated on something beyond your immediate comprehension, until you follow his gaze down to the silver tray. and now that you bring your attention to it, the tea has a delightful aroma to it, and smells as though it’s finally been steeped long enough— “you forgot the strainer.” levi isn’t pointing it out, he’s chastising you.

pesky tea leaves, curse you. perhaps an oversight on your part, the one that you had intuitively sensed earlier but could not place a finger to, but minuscule as a stand-alone mishap. how mean of him, really, it was as if levi was trying to find something he could fault you in. and considering the scrupulous amount of time he took to detect such a minor mistake, he would not be satisfied until he did. you can’t ascertain whether it’s because levi loathes the thought of you doing anything right without his personal interference, or he simply gets a power trip by nitpicking at you. you’re starting to believe it’s both.

“i’m sorry, i can go get one right now—” levi interrupts you, or more fittingly, silences you, without even so much as uttering a word. he takes the handle of the teapot with the two fingers of his right hand, mindful of its fragility, and gathering the teacups together in his left hand. “nonsense, i already have one.”

levi turns his back to you, setting the ceramics atop the dressers lined up on the wall behind his desk. without missing a beat, he locates the drawer containing this supposed strainer with ease, and sure enough, a tiny mesh tea strainer can be seen pinched between his pointer finger and thumb. of course captain levi has this in his office, he may as well have the whole tea set hidden in that drawer, and of course, captain levi can compensate for every single flaw and shortcoming his vice captain has.

his fondness for the craft is evident as he takes it into his own hands to strain the tea for both cups, “sir, i could have done that.” forcing yourself to avert your eyes, as if dismissing the whole (ridiculous) ordeal altogether, aggravatedly setting the closest report down in front of you and skimming the words, “i know.”

levi returns to his seat, this time, he does sit, but not after returning the teapot and teacups to their rightful places on the expertly organized platter, “here.” he lifts one of the cups in that peculiar way that he always does, by the edge of its rim, and extends a hand towards you, “you brewed it, it’d be a shame for me to enjoy all this good quality tea alone.”

reluctantly, you entangle your hands around the handle, impatiently pulling it from his grasp before he can properly let go, and you drink until the teacup is half empty. sparing a passing glance at levi as you carefully set the cup back on its respective saucer, he seems satiated.

falling into routine, the rest of your exchange is done quietly. only the sound of feather pens making detailed incisions on the papers ricocheted throughout the idle office. and perhaps it’s the finely written cursive on the papers, or that it is well past curfew, but your eyelids feel unbearably heavy. it had become increasingly difficult for you to remain upright, slightly swaying in your seat, desperately attempting to regain your composure every time you nearly fall out of your chair. one particularly long blink has you absolutely reeling once you open your eyes, but the feeling of something brushing against your knee has you retaining consciousness instantaneously.

parting your lips with a surprised exhale, your eyes peer down to your legs, but there is nothing out of the ordinary. it must have been the inner side of the desk, the opening that created leg room so two people could sit comfortably across from one another. that sounded far better than accusing your captain of purposefully invading your personal space— seeing as such a thing has never happened before, him intentionally rubbing against your knee with his own, that is. you dismiss the notion altogether, but then it happens again, and this time, it feels like a hand.

“did… did you just touch me?” levi calmly takes his focus off his paperwork, momentarily stilling the movement of his feather pen, “no.” but for some reason, you still doubt him. and levi surmises as much as his eyes narrow, though not with suspicion, but something else that you can’t quite figure out in your delirious state, “are you sure?”

“do you want me to touch you?” he inquires with such sudden seriousness, it catches you off guard. your reaction time has been awful, but you almost immediately blurt out a; “no.” and your response is a little too quick for his liking.

“no?” levi echoes coldly.

no, that is what you recall from your last moments of blurred consciousness, but you can’t remember if you had said it, or levi had. quite honestly, that had become the least of your concerns as soon as you opened your eyes. met with the unforgiving glare of the sun shining through a suspiciously large window that most certainly didn’t belong to your room, you break into a sweat when you inhale the familiar scent of someone else, and you’ve become increasingly aware of how unbearably warm you are. you’ve been stripped bare, and despite being engulfed in a tangle of blankets and sheets, you feel disturbingly exposed. and you know this feeling, one of another naked body pressed against your backside and a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. any move you had initially tried to make was futile, thrashing about to free your own arms from the lock of the other pair, tugging at his wrists and pushing them down with all your might.

it’s startling when the hold around your waist suddenly tightens, as if constricting you out of breath, “you can deny it all you want, but your body loves it when i touch you.” you don’t need to turn and face the man keeping you hostage in his arms because levi’s voice is unmistakable, “it’s about time that i fuck you while you’re conscious anyway.”

#ackerifle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader

[diorsbrando]

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

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

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

word count ━━ 11k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shall we be on our way?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed . . . . closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what did he just━

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

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

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

It was blood.

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

Aizen's blade.

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

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

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

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

Fuck....was this really happening?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which reminded you of something else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet.

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

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

━━━━━━ 鏡  ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, here he ended up.

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

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

The thrill of a challenge.

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

It made him feel alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or at least, that's what he thought.

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

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

Aizen found amusement in that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One drop at a time.

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

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You regret . . . killing me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they loved it.

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

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

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

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

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

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

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

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

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

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

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

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

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

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

.........................................

Chapter 12: mirrorball

Tinsel, lights, bows, fake snow, wreaths, ornaments, and trees as far as the eye could see filled the White House and its grounds. You'd gone over holiday decorating plans until you were blue in the face. You never knew decking the halls of the White House could be so stressful. You'd chosen a traditional Christmas decor style with lots of reds and greens and golds. It was classic, with a touch of modern thanks to some LED lights and some sustainably sourced pines and firs.

Everything looked beautiful. It was perfect—it had to be. Because if it wasn't, you were sure that would be the first thing your parents would say.

You always had a love-hate relationship with the holidays. You'd hoped that you and Bradley would be able to spend a quiet Christmas Eve together in pjs, but he insisted that your parents come for a Christmas dinner along with his godfather Maverick and his wife Penny. Jake and Jaycee were also joining you because neither of their families could get a flight out in time.

You paced nervously as you went over your mental checklist one more time. Everything had to be perfect.

You took extra care with getting ready for dinner. It was semi-formal, and your parents wouldn't expect anything less.

You were wearinging a maroon dress with cap sleeves and lace detailed bodice. The dress was tea length with an a-line skirt that slightly flared. You paired it with a classic black pump and your signature low bun. The diamonds Rooster and given you this year accented the dress. You also opted to layer the pearl necklace your parents had given you as a wedding present with your pendant. You weren't fond of pearls, but you knew if you didn't wear it, you'd never hear the end of it.

Bradley could tell you were nervous. When he really thinks about it, he's never seen you like this. Your parents were always a touchy subject. The handful of times he'd met them, they seemed to be focused on your flaws rather than your accomplishments. He's pretty sure the only time he's ever heard them say they were proud of you was at the wedding.

You were touching your makeup up in the mirror when he came behind you to give you a reassuring hug. "It's going to be fine. It won't be just them there." He tried to remind you as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Everything has to be perfect." You tell him. "It's okay if it isn't." He says. "No, it isn't. Not all of us had the supportive parental figure growing up Bradley. My parents only really cared when I started getting into debate and politics. And even then, they were only interested if I was winning. Because a win was the only thing they could show off. A shiny, perfect, victorious daughter, that's what they wanted, so that's what I became. That's what I still have to be. That's the only way they'll notice me. That's the only way they'll love me." You whispered the last part before wiping away a stray tear.

"Please make sure Maverick doesn't say anything deeply offensive to my father tonight about Admiral Cain's drone program. My father is on the committee for it. I've already warned him about it as well." You say, changing from doom and gloom to perky at the drop of a hat. It gives Bradley whiplash sometimes when he sees just how fast you can turn your emotions on and off.

"I've already told him, but you know Maverick. He's five foot seven inches of unpredictable rage. I'm sure Penny will keep him under control." Bradley laughs. You roll your eyes before lacing your hands with his. "Let's get this show on the road."

You stood neverously in the foyer, waiting for everyone to arrive. Maverick and Penny got there first, both greeting you with warm hugs and a smile. Jake and Jaycee tumbled in not long after them. Jaycee whispered some words of encouragement as she hugged you. Last to arrive where your parents. Senator and Congressman Wiseman. They weren't late per say, but they made sure to arrive late enough so that their entrance would be noticed.

"Mother, Father, Merry Christmas." You greeted them. "Hello, darling." Your mother greeted you with a quick hug. Your father was bit warmer, but still cold. "Mr. President! So good to see you. How's my favorite son in law!" Your mother beamed as she went to hug Bradley. Bradley responded that both of you were doing well as he shook your father's hand.

Before dinner, you decided to give your guests a private tour of the decorations. "They're a bit dated, dear, don't you think?" Your mother critiqued you. Your shoulders slumped at her comment. "I think they look wonderful, Y/N. They're traditional and elegant." Maverick quickly commented. You whispered a thank you to him.

By the time the tour was over, your parents had picked apart the decor you had chosen, commented on the fact that you hadn't offered to let them stay the night, and criticized the last event you'd hosted for your social cause. Your father also kept trying to talk shop with Bradley, even though you kept reminding him that this wasn't a business dinner but a family celebration.

Thankfully, dinner was served quickly after, and soon everyone was eating and having pleasant conversations. You silently picked at your chicken while listening to what was being said, quickly butting in if something was about to get too heated.

You really thought you were home free by the time dessert was being served—boy were you wrong.

Somehow, the topic of your marriage came up, and your mother asked that faithful question, "When are the two of you going to have children? I've read several articles about how people would love to see a White House filled with babies again, like back in the Kennedy era."

"Mother, Bradley, and I have barely been married a year. We'll have kids when the time is right." You tell her. "Well, honey, you're thirty-one. You aren't getting any younger." She tells you as she spears a berry from her cake.

"We still have plenty of time to have children. We don't want to rush into anything that we aren't ready for." You tell her politely. Bradley can feel you tense up beside him. He places his hand on your thigh and rubs circles with his thumb to try and calm you down.

"I know you think you have time, dear, but it's your job as the First Lady, especially a young First Lady, to give the world some presidential babies." She states. "I know you think you have a career to focus on, but your time in the campaigning and staffer world is over. You're never going to be able to work, if that's what you want to call what you were doing before, in politics again after Bradley's second term is up. No one is going to take a former First Lady seriously."

Anger thrums through your body. Your leg is shaking, you have a death grip on your fork, and tears prick your eyes. Bradley turns to you to speak, but you cut him off.

"That's enough, Mother." You say. You take a deep breath and meet her eyes across the table. She narrows hers at you, as if she's daring you to say something else. "I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I?" You ask her. "What?" She looks at you with feigned confusion.

"No matter what I do, what I wear, what I say, what I accomplish, it's still not going to be enough." You tell her. "I win first place in the school debate. You tell me that if I worked harder, I could have won the state one. I graduate at the top of my class in high school? You told me that I should have had a perfect GPA. I land a killer internship in college, and you say that I shouldn't be working for a representative from such a small state. I get a no-name independent elected to the presidency, and you think the best thing I've done with that is marry him! And then even that isn't good enough now, either! I've spent my entire life being a mirrorball, trying to keep your attention for even a fraction of a second because you and dad always put everything else before me! I've tried my whole life to be good enough for you, and it still isn't enough! So, like I said, no matter what I do, you'll never be satisfied. You'll never be proud of me. You'll never really love me." With that last comment, your nerve breaks, and the tears fall. You quickly excuse yourself from dinner and run out of the room. Bradley moves to follow you, but Jaycee beats him.

He turns back to the remaining people at the table who are looking at him with wide eyes.

"I can't believe she just said that! Ted, can you believe how your daughter just spoke to me?!" Your mother gasps.

Bradley takes a deep breath and collects himself.

"Congressman and Senator Wiseman, I think you should leave. He tells them.

"Excuse me?" Your father says.

"I said I think the two of you should leave. You've both overstayed your welcome." Bradley says calmly. "You're kicking us out because Y/N is so sensitive? How rude of you." Your mother tells him.

"The only person who has been rude this evening is you, Senator." Bradley states. Your mother scoffs at him and then darts her eyes across the room to the other patrons still seated at the table. None of them speak up to defend her.

"I was only telling her the truth. Y/N has never been good at handling it." She doubles down on her comments.

"The truth? You think that was the truth?" Bradley begins to raise his voice. "No, let me tell you what the truth is." He states through gritted teeth.

"Y/N has worked harder than any other campaign manager or Chief of Staff that I have ever known. She put her whole heart into my campaign because she believed in me. She quite literally almost lost her life for my presidency. Speaking of? Where were you when someone tried to murder her? Did you even call her to see if she was okay? The night of the election, you sent her a text congratulating her, a text message! You didn't even have the decency to call her and tell her how proud you were of her accomplishment. Are you even proud of her for what she did? Because I am! And all evening, you've sat on your high horse and picked her apart bit by bit, and I'm sick of it! So you can get your things and leave. Dante will show you to the door." Bradley tells them as he exhales deeply.

"Mr. President, you can't talk to us like that. Ted, are you going to let him speak to us like that?!" Your mother asks him.

"Right now, I'm not the president, Cynthia. I'm simply a husband who is furious about how his wife has been treated this evening." Bradley states as he stands up to lean over the table.

"But as the president, I'm telling you right now that if you ever speak to her like that again, or treat her like she is some prized show pony, I guarantee that you will never see another bill that you propose get passed, I will cut off your committee funding, and I will personally endorse and campaign for whom ever runs against you in your next election. Do you understand?" Bradley says with venom in his voice.

Your parents shake their heads before being escorted out. He sits back down and shakes his head before looking at the three people who are still at the table.

"I'm sorry. I—" He waves his hands, not sure what to say. "It's fine, Bradley. You said what needed to be said. Now go check on your girl. Jake can help us from here." Maverick says as he parts Bradley on the shoulder before he leaves the dining room.

Bradley knocked on the door before entering. You were lying on the bed whimpering as Jaycee stroked your shoulder to try and soothe you. "Babe, Bradley is here, I'm going to give you two some space." Jaycee quietly whispered to you before getting up to leave.

You sat up when Bradley joined you on the bed.

"I'm sorry." You sniffled as you tried to wipe your mascara stained cheeks. "I'm sorry that I ruined the evening, I shouldn't have said those things. I know I probably embarrassed you and everyone else. My parents are going to hate me now. Everyone else out there probably hates me." You rambled tearfully as Bradley pulled you to his chest to hug you.

"It's just my mom—she kept on picking and poking and it my anxiety just kept building and building, and—" Your body starts to tremble as your breathing becomes labored. "The weight of it—its just so much to bear, and I—I can't breathe." You pant out. Your hand flies to your throat as you desperately attempt to unclasp the strand of pearls from your neck. They're a physical reminder of the grip your parents have on you.

"Bradley—I can't breathe—I —I" He sees the panic written all over your face. He's trying to help you, but you're shaking and fighting the necklace, and he can't get a grip on the clasp. Before he can do anything else, you pull at the strand and rip it off. Dozens of white orbs fly off the string and clatter unceremoniously to the floor. You let out a long exhale before slouching onto him. You grab the oval pendant you're still wearing and run your thumb and index finger over it as you calm down. Bradley sits there silently with you.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He tells you after a few minutes. You look up at him. Your eyes are still bleary from the tears you've shed. "I mean it. They were awful to you, and I should have said something sooner. If anyone should apologize, it's me." He tells you.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. "Right after you left, I kicked them out and told them how horrible they were to you. I also made sure that they know if they even treat you like that again, at least while I'm president, it will be the end of both of their careers." He tells you proudly.

Fresh tears spring to your eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you." You sob over and over again as you bury your head into his chest.

"I love you, Y/N. I'd do anything in this world for you. I mean it." Bradley tells you as he kisses the top of your hair. "Love you too." You tell him. Your words come out muffled from how hard you face is pressed up against him.

"If you're feeling up to it, we still have presents to open with Mav and Penny and Jake and Jaycee." He says. You smile. "I'd like that." You tell him. "Good, but first, we need to change." He states with a twinkle in his eye. He hands you a box to unwrap, and you smile when you see what's inside.

Twenty minutes later, the six of you are curled up on couches with mugs of coca and piles of wrapping paper. You can't remember the last time you smiled at Christmas or smiled this much in general, but you know, as long as Bradley is around, you were going to be happy.

Loves, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby @wkndwlff @dakotakazansky

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #tgm #lt. bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #top gun smut #top gun 2 #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm smut #red white and rooster

[mididressobsessed]

Source: specialday-ireland.com

#full skirt #full dress #pink dress #tea length dress #midi dress #formal dress #pretty dress #feminine fashion

[suziwest-dresscollection]

#dress #vintage #sleeveless #1950s #formal #prom #tulle #sequin #spaghetti strap #emma domb #white #midi #tea length

[shadowjackery]

The Gladdest Thing Under the Sun

I honestly thought we were supposed to wait a couple of days after the zine’s release, but, heck, everyone else is doing it, so here we are: My contribution to @gensokyozine​ . I’ve wanted to do this story for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

Descriptive text for the visually impaired or for easy quotation:

PAGE 1

Title: "Shadowjack presents: The Gladdest Thing under the Sun"

Yuuka Kazami, a youkai woman, climbs the cracked stone steps to the ramshackle Hakurei Shrine. She carries a parasol. Up the wooded hill, through the pines, stand the shrine gate and two guardian komainu -- one of whom, Aunn, is alive and waving cheerfully, tail wagging. The plum and cherry trees atop the hill are in bloom. Dandelions sprout as Yuuka passes.

PAGE 2, PANEL 1

Title: "Yuuka Kazami, Flower Mistress of the Four Seasons"

Yuuka wears a summer outfit that evokes the mid-20th century: a vest over a short-sleeved blouse with a necktie, a knee-length pencil skirt, hose and heels, a handkerchief neatly folded in her vest pocket. She also wears glossy leather gauntlets and tight sleeve garters. Her hair is bobbed and curled in 1930s fashion. Her eyes are slitted, like a snake's.

She rests her head on her hand and gazes up at Reimu, rapt. A cat with black and white fur, spotted something like a yin-yang ball, lies nearby, watching her carefully.

PAGE 2, PANEL 2

Title: "Reimu Hakurei, Mysterious Shrine Maiden of Paradise"

Reimu, a human woman with a long ponytail, looks down at Yuuka, sweating slightly. She says, "Um... you know..."

PAGE 2, PANEL 3

Reimu wears her usual red-white shrine maiden robes and ribbons, much patched and threadbare. She is barefoot on the porch, holding a broom.

Reimu: "When you look at me like that, I get the feeling I'm about to be CUT and PRESSED."

Yuuka is shocked. "Oh, my! I would NEVER. A wild flower is best viewed in its natural habitat, always!"

PAGE 2, PANEL 4

Reimu, smiling: "I'm a wildflower?"

Yuuka, grinning: "One of the best!"

PAGE 3, PANEL 1

Reimu greets Yuuka at the entrance to her residence. Yuuka bows formally. She has brought a package, wrapped in cloth with a floral pattern.

Yuuka: "Ojama shimasu."

Reimu: "Hai, hai."

Reimu: "Everything is flowers with you, isn't it?"

Yuuka: "It could hardly be otherwise, dear! I am what I am."

PAGE 3, PANEL 2

Yuuka takes off her shoes, while Reimu places the parasol on the weapons rack by the door. The top shelf holds scrolls, boxes labelled "needles" and "seals", and one Mk 2 hand grenade.

A large sign by the rack says in printed text, "Check ALL weapons before coming in! Including but not limited to: Swords, Axes, Bows, Spears, Guns, Wands, Staffs, Parasols, Lasers, Bombs, Poisons, Curses," and so on.

A handwritten post-it note has been tacked to it, saying, "SEIJA -- Do NOT obey this!"

Another, ripped and faded sign has been taped by the list, adding, "MARISA -- Whatever it is now: NO. I mean it."

There is a bullethole next to the sign.

A different yin-yang cat watches Yuuka.

Reimu says, "So what kind of flower is Marisa?"

Yuuka: "She reminds me of pampas grass."

Reimu: "?"

Yuuka: "One of a few varieties of cortaderia, somewhat resembling susuki."

PAGE 3, PANEL 3

The two women go inside where there's more shade.

Yuuka: "It's a fast-growing, invasive species that can contribute to rat infestations and dangerous wildfires."

Reimu, laughing: "A WEED!"

Yuuka: "But charming in its way."

PAGE 3, PANEL 4, OFFSET

Somewhere, Marisa sneezes.

PAGE 4, PANEL 1

In Reimu's kitchen, the two together prepare afternoon tea, while two different cats beg at their feet. Reimu pours hot water from a large kettle into a cast-iron teapot. Yuuka takes down bowls and cups, and opens up the Japanese-style lunchboxes she brought.

Yuuka has put on an apron that parodies the "piyo piyo apron" worn by Kyoko in the manga "Maison Ikkoku", but instead of a drawing of a baby chick on the chest, it has a drawing of a Dragon Quest slime, saying "suu suu".

Reimu: "You aren't bothered she stole the Master Spark from you?"

Yuuka: "Oh, Marisa didn't steal it from me! She bargained for it fairly."

Reimu stops what she's doing to turn toward Yuuka. "Bullshit."

Yuuka: "It's true! I was curious to learn a little magic, and in exchange for lessons I agreed to trade her a cutting."

Reimu: "Huh!"

Yuuka: "I don't mind helping another gardener to improve their art. She makes it bloom well, doesn't she?"

PAGE 4, PANEL 2

Yuuka carries a tray of sandwiches and snacks out of the kitchen.

Yuuka: "Besides... to cast it ONCE, she needs a device."

A surprise second Yuuka, with long hair, and wearing trousers instead of a skirt, whisks the teapot and cups from Reimu's hands, leaving Reimu with nothing to do.

Yuuka, the second: "But I by myself can cast it TWICE."

PAGE 5, PANEL 1

Only one Yuuka again. Yuuka and Reimu kneel on the veranda to take their tea. One yin-yang cat nearby sprawls asleep in the sun, an orange tabby circles curiously, and a third cat sulks by Reimu.

Reimu: "Okay, then how about... Alice?"

Yuuka: "Ohhh... Alice is special. With her pride and ingenuity, she bears the seed of great potential for power."

PAGE 5, PANEL 2

Yuuka beams with enthusiasm. She says, "Why, if one could but prune away a few of her mortal failings -- such as 'restraint' or 'mercy' -- she could make a truly MARVELLOUS youkai!"

We can now observe that Yuuka's necktie is not knotted, but instead held by a silver woggle marked with a "lily of the valley" emblem.

PAGE 5, PANEL 3

Yuuka blushes happily. "She might even be stronger than I. Wouldn't that be an interesting day?" A heart floats in her words.

Reimu tries to hide her concern. She thinks, "Ganbatte, Alice-san..." But only says out loud, "...er, uh... and Yukari?"

PAGE 6, PANEL 1

Yuuka grins wolfishly. "Yukari and I have an arrangement: She doesn't meddle in my garden, and I don't BURN DOWN hers."

Reimu: "Isn't it weird that a youkai of FLOWERS is so good at fighting?"

Yuuka: "I'm surprised to hear that from a Japanese!"

Reimu: "You say that like you're not."

PAGE 6, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "I am known in many lands, by many names, wherever flowers grow."

Yuuka narrates the scene from the foreground, wearing a woman's kimono and lacquered okobo sandals. She carries now a Japanese-style paper parasol. Her hair is tied up in a bun with a cherry-blossom kanzashi, and she wears a sunflower hair ornament. She is surrounded by flowers: chrysanthemum, hollyhock, and birthwort, and above her spreads blooming sakura.

Yuuka: "Did not your own samurai describe themselves as cherry blossoms, and fight for emperor and shogun under the banners of the chrysanthemum and hollyhock?"

In the midground, two armored samurai clash. The lower-status one has fallen to the ground; the richer has a bloody slash across his left eye. He swings his sword and chops the grounded man's spear in two, but the other is undaunted.

In the background, an army of horse and foot mounts the top of the hill, banners billowing.

PAGE 7, PANEL 1

Now Yuuka narrates wearing a huipil dress with embroidered shawl, and simple leather slippers. Her hair is done in buns, with a Mexican sunflower by her ear. A hummingbird flies near her. Growing around her are Aztec marigold, dahlias, banana yucca, and Mexican hat flowers.

Yuuka: "Across the sea to your east, the mighty Mexica gathered their 'hummingbird' soldiers to send to the 'Flower Wars' (they named them) to gather honor, blood, and sacrifices."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Nahuatl, one poor, one rich with a slashed left eye. The poorer one wears only a loincloth, and has a shield slung over his shoulder. His shield is painted with a hummingbird design, and from it hang a few feathers. The richer soldier wears a full-body jaguar costume, and wields a macuahuitl war-club. The poor soldier leaps to his feet and tackles his enemy, disarming him.

In the background, an army of Aztecs battle below a stepped pyramid and high mountains.

PAGE 7, PANEL 2

Now Yuuka narrates wearing men's doublet and hose, embroidered with fleur-de-lis and tulips, along with knee-high riding boots and gauntlets. Around her neck is a sunflower pendant. On her shoulder perches a falcon. About her feet, and entangling the narration boxes, are red, white, and yellow roses.

Yuuka: "And to the far west, the lords of the English struggled for a choice of kingly roses, red Lancaster or snowy York."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Englishmen, again one poorer, the other richer with the eye injury. The poorer soldier has some mail pieces and a simple brimmed helmet; the richer has plate armor, a full helm, and a shield. The rich fighter is overthrown, his foe about to stab him through the visor with his own arming sword.

In the background, mounted knights charge a line of archers behind wooden stakes. A church or fort stands on hills in the far distance.

Yuuka: "Flowers and War have always been intertwined."

PAGE 7, PANEL 3

We return to Reimu's veranda and cherry trees.

Reimu: "You've seen so many strange places... Do you have a favorite?"

Yuuka: "...it was in the west, in Flanders, perhaps a hundred years ago."

PAGE 8, PANEL 1

Yuuka invisibly narrates: "Such a war, Reimu! The men burrowed like moles, or took to the air like kites."

Above barbed wire, two airplanes spit tracers at each other. It is World War One.

PAGE 8, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "They plowed the earth with cannon, night and day."

Shirtless German artillerymen fire their gun amid sandbags. Something explodes close by.

PAGE 8, PANEL 3

Yuuka: "They slew by shot and poison, fire and blade."

A gasmasked French soldier, armed with pistol and entrenching tool, cautiously moves down a trench. An unseen enemy waits around the corner with rifle and bayonet.

PAGE 8, PANEL 4

Yuuka: "And for no purpose that I could see, no treasure nor slave."

Barbed wire and ruined buildings.

PAGE 8, PANEL 5

Yuuka, narrating: "The destruction was so maniacal it seemed no tree, no blade of grass, would ever grow there again. I thought you humans had gone absolutely mad!"

Yuuka, wearing colorful hat, coat, and umbrella, stands on a windy no-man's land, surrounded by dull mud and broken pieces. Tracer fire crosses the sky, coming from a distant machine-gun nest. She notices, but does not bother to avoid, the few bullets that land near her.

Yuuka, narrating: "But it was I who did not understand your passion. When I learned your true intentions, I was deeply humbled."

PAGE 8, PANEL 6

Yuuka, narrating: "Did you know, Reimu? You can find graves in the wild by how the flowers grow. (Bone meal makes such good fertilizer.)"

The corpse of a soldier lies upon the ruined earth. But near his outstretched arm, a single bluebell, and a few patches of grass, have sprouted.

PAGE 8, PANEL 7

Now there are no bodies, but grass and wildflowers and bumblebees cover the ground. A shattered helmet has a flower growing through the holes.

Yuuka, narrating: "I tell you that after this great war, those fields FLUORISHED with color. Rainbows spilled on seas of green grass!"

PAGE 9

Yuuka, narrating: "And ever after, all through those lands, the people wore blood-red poppies, to remember and give thanks to their kindred who slept below, for this sight they had worked so hard to create."

Yuuka wears early-20th century men's hunting clothes: a sturdy jacket and breeches with knee-high boots and gloves. Her curled hair is in a loose pompadour. As ever, she has a parasol. The sun shines warmly. The hill Yuuka walks down is covered in grass and bright red poppy flowers, stretching on forever. The plants almost completely cover a few remaining pieces of military hardware: a broken machine-gun, a lost helmet, a twist of barbed wire. Yuuka smiles.

Yuuka, narrating: "Tens of thousands of men willingly buried themselves for nothing better than the GLORY of FLOWERS!"

PAGE 9, PANEL 2, INSET

We return to Reimu's veranda. Yuuka clutches a handkerchief, almost overcome with romantic tears.

Yuuka: "It was the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen!"

Reimu stares at her and says nothing.

PAGE 10, PANEL 1

Yuuka says, "Excuse me!", wipes her tears, and takes out her compact to redo her makeup.

Reimu thinks, "Yuuka is one of my oldest friends, but she really is a monster, isn't she? I don't even know how to BEGIN to explain the truth to her... or if I even should."

PAGE 10, PANEL 2

Title: "FLOWERS appearing in this story."

Many cut flowers are arranged on a wooden surface, with identifying captions. In no particular order, they are: primrose, fleur-de-lis (yellow iris), common sunflower, anemone, dandelion, Mexican sunflower, tulip, rose, cempoalxóchitl (Aztec marigold), dahlia, banana yucca, Mexican hat flower, pineapple sage, bee orchid, celandine, Flanders poppy, lily-of-the-valley, bluebell, daffodil, kiku (chrysanthemum), aoi (birthwort), hollyhock, ume (Japanese plum), and sakura (Japanese cherry).

PAGE 10, PANEL 3

In a simplified art style:

Reimu pats Alice on the shoulder and says, "Alice, we sure attract some weird ones, don't we?"

Alice wears her usual workdress and hairband, but also has sturdy explosive ordnance disposal goggles and gloves. She is inserting a stick of dynamite into the back of a Hatsune Miku doll. Other dolls and marionettes (and one teddy bear) fill the room, all with visible dynamite fuzes sticking out of their heads, and all with glowing eyes.

Alice says, "Don't disturb me when I'm setting the explosive charges! If they went off, they could hurt the dolls."

Reimu: "...This is why she likes you, you know."

Alice: "?"

END

#fan comic #touhou #yuuka kazami #reimu hakurei

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 24

You embark on a new relationship and find out problems about an old one. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-23 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Just angst :) No use of Y/N. Whole fic is violent and smutty so Minors DNI. 18+ only

Length: 5.5k

Saturday, February 6, 2016 - Six Months Later

“Hey, be careful, you’re gonna break it if you keep pulling on it like that,” Derek rushed over, delicately pulling the camera from your hands. 

“Wasn’t going to break it,” you said, defensive. “These hands work with surgical precision, sir, I was just… leveraging it.” 

“Leveraging it the wrong way,” he smiled at you, shaking his head. He pulled the back open the other direction. “My camera opens differently than yours. See?” 

“I guess you’re the expert,” you rolled your eyes dramatically, smiling a little. 

“So they tell me,” he kissed you lightly. Even in the red glow of his homemade dark room, Derek was handsome. “OK, next you have to load the film…” 

He guided your hands through the process of getting your film set and ready before putting it into the chemical bath he had in plastic tubs in his bathtub. You sat on the edge of the tub, watching the pictures emerge. Andrew behind the front counter at the clinic, making a face at you and flipping you off. Jess standing profile and putting one hand against her growing stomach, her other one pointing at it as if to say “look what I did!” Derek looking out the window of your apartment with a cup of tea in his hand, lost in thought and unaware you were even taking his photo. Even one of Joel, raising his eyebrows at you as Tess leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually printing pictures right now!” You rapped your nails along the chipped surface of the tub, grinning broadly. “I’ve never made pictures before!” 

“Truly a lost art form,” Derek smiled, sitting on the tub with his back against the wall, watching you. 

“All I ever did was drop them off at the Walgreens photo lab,” you said. “This is more work but a lot fucking cooler.” 

“Most cool things are a lot of work, unfortunately,” he said. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” you smiled a little. 

Derek and photography had become one of your favorite parts of life in the months since Tommy went out west with the Fireflies. You hadn’t really been looking for either one, just stumbled into both of them at once. 

About a month after the explosion, Andrew and Jess invited you over for dinner. Andrew had asked with such formality - usually it was just “Hey we actually got some decent shit, want in” not “We were really hoping you could join us on Sunday night” - that you’d gone to Tess and traded a few ration cards for a bottle of wine. Jess burst out laughing when you came in with it, which made you frown. It wasn’t until you and Andrew each had a glass - Jess begging off every time you offered - that they said why. 

“We’re pregnant!” Jess squealed it, grinning from ear to ear. 

It took you a second to figure out how to respond. If this had been before the outbreak, you would have shrieked and hugged her and asked for every possible detail. Now, you looked between them, concerned. 

“We figured the world might be fucked but you now what, we’re pretty happy we’re still around to live in it,” he said, holding Jess’ hand, an arm around her shoulders. “We could make life worth living for someone else too, right?” 

You smiled, a small smile but a smile. 

“You guys are going to be the most incredible parents,” you said, fighting back tears. “That baby… the luckiest baby on the planet.” 

You ended up thinking a lot more about what like had been like before and what it could be like in the future after that. Beyond just the medicine of it or how to better equip your students, you started thinking about what things you’d wanted for your child when that was possible for you. Things like a nursery and baby pictures and colorful toys. You wanted to give that to them, or as much of it as you could, anyway. 

So you’d started doing a little investigating in the underground markets, poking around to see what you could find to make those things happen. You met Derek in October when you were asking after Polaroid cameras at one of the stands. 

“Really, if you can just set one aside for me if you ever find one,” you were saying to the seller. “I’ll pay even a markup of whatever you’d sell it for normally, that and whatever film you have for it…” 

“Not gonna just sit on perfectly good product on the off chance you show up to buy it,” he said gruffly. 

“It’s for my best friends’ baby pictures,” you said, pleading a little. “They’re pregnant and I know they’re going to want pictures, who wouldn’t want pictures of their baby?” 

“If you want good baby pictures, you shouldn’t be looking for a polaroid, anyway,” the man who just came up to the stand said.

“Well I’m sure someone could take better pictures with a fancy camera,” you shrugged. “But it’s not like I have a darkroom at home.” 

“I do,” he said. 

“That doesn’t really help me though, does it?” You said, looking him up and down. He was handsome, his face sculpted, dark hair and light eyes, maybe a few years older than you with some salt and pepper starting in on his scruff. 

“Yes it does,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him. “I mean, I could… develop them for you. Or you can do it. I have all the stuff, I can… I could just give you some of it…” 

“But I wouldn’t know how to use it,” you were smiling now. The man was getting gradually more and more flustered and it was hard to not find it charming. 

“Well, I could teach you,” he said. “Just sometime. If you wanted to learn. I used to teach photography before the world went to hell, I promise I’m not a creepy weirdo trying to get you into his dark room.” 

You laughed at that, you couldn’t help it. 

“Look, if you buy,” he paused, looking over the man’s limited stock. “This camera body,” he set a Nikon that looked to be about as old as you down in front of you. “And this lens,” he grabbed one that really didn’t look any different than the others. “I will pick up the tab for five rolls of film and develop them for you.” 

You turned to face him, crossing your arms and smiling. 

“But how would I find you to get you the film?” You asked. “I don’t even know you.” 

“Derek,” he held his hand out. You took it and gave him your name in return. “There, now we know each other. And you can give me your film…” he patted the pocket on his messenger bag until he found what he was looking for - a small notebook with a pen stuck in the spiral binding. He wrote something and tore the paper out, handing it to you. “When you meet me there at that date and time.” 

It was in a week, at an address not too far from the clinic. You pursed your lips a little, resisting the urge to smile bigger. 

“What if I’m busy then?” You asked. His face fell a little bit. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this,” he scrambled for the notebook again but you laughed and stopped him. 

“No, this is fine,” you said quickly. “I just really wanted to see what you’d do.” 

He shook his head and smiled a little. 

“Right, I deserved that,” he said, pulling out the ration cards to buy the film and handing them to the seller. He took them and gave the film directly to you. “So I’ll see you then?” 

“This will all be a pricy dust collector if you don’t,” you smiled. 

“Right, right,” he nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

He turned to leave as you went to buy the rest of the camera, but then he turned, walking backwards past the other stalls. 

“I mean that, just so you know,” he called to you. “Really looking forward to it. Like, a lot.” 

You giggled like a school girl. 

You’d spent the next week taking pictures of life around the QZ. It was strange at first, trying to figure out what to capture. You didn’t want to take pictures of nothing, that felt like a waste. But waiting until only the good things or only the important things happened would mean you wouldn’t have a full roll of pictures until who knows when and that would make your meeting with Derek pretty useless. Well, useless beyond the fact that he was handsome and charming and you’d like to see him again. 

You filled up the roll of pictures and kept your fingers crossed Derek wouldn’t judge your lack of skills too harshly when he actually went to develop the film. When you met up with him, it was outside a warehouse where he worked. You’d ducked out on your evening break from the clinic, still in your lab coat. 

“I would have come to you!” He said, his eyes a little wide when you came up. “I was trying to be nice and not ask you to provide a location, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable I wasn’t trying to pull you away from saving lives and things…” 

“There’s a man bleeding to death right now but I figured, screw it, I have a date to keep,” you said, trying to keep your tone serious. Derek’s face fell for a moment before he glared at you. 

“You’re cruel,” he smiled a little. You smiled back. “So I know you just came to surrender your film but I thought I could try to bribe you and see if I could convince you to have dinner with me. Call it a trade, you give me the film and I give you food. I also brought wine because I didn’t know you were a doctor who had to go save lives after seeing me…” 

“Seems like you’re getting the short end of the stick here,” you said, handing him the canister of film. “I get dinner and developed pictures out of the deal.” 

“Nah, see, I’ve conned you into giving me your time so, really, I’m coming out way ahead,” he smiled, leading you to a small grassy area alongside the warehouse, away from much of the sound of the streets of the QZ. He’d set out a blanket and put out a spread of jerky and dried fruit and bread and you sat there, talking, for close to an hour. 

Derek had been a photography teacher in Maine during the outbreak and had been saved from being turned by the fact that he was newly divorced at the time, living on frozen dinners because cooking for one sounded miserable. He’d been at the Boston QZ since the middle of ’04 and taught a class at one of the other QZ schools - one of the schools for kids who weren’t wards of the state - about photography. 

“It’s weird not teaching anyone how to shoot anymore,” he said. “It’s all history and composition and the like, none of the actual skill. Not like FEDRA is pumping out cameras and film.” 

“I hear you,” you nodded. “You know how I teach frog dissection now? Diagrams. No actual frogs. It’s still surreal even though I’ve been doing it the FEDRA way far longer than I was the way I learned it.” 

You glanced at your watch in passing and almost jumped up. 

“Oh shit,” you said quickly. “I have to get back, I was only supposed to be gone like half an hour…” 

“Think I can bring you back your prints when you’re a little less pressed for time?” He asked. 

“Speakeasy, Sunday evening sound good?” You asked back. 

“I’ll be there.” 

Things with Derek were easy. Simple. He was sweet and understanding and seemed to be pretty crazy about you. The first time you made him cookies, he took a bite and grabbed you and kissed you on the mouth before his eyes went wide. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for about two weeks and this cookie is so damn good I just didn’t even stop to ask…” 

You kissed him again just to calm him down. 

“You’re really a natural at capturing people,” he said once all your photos were printed and spread out on his living room floor. 

“Really?” You frowned, looking over the pictures. 

“Oh yeah,” he nodded. “You know just when to get the shot and you frame it up well. There’s some technical stuff here and there, sure, but you’ve got the eye, Hon.” 

He picked up the picture of Joel and Tess. 

“This is a great one,” he said before he frowned a little. “Don’t think I’ve met them. New friends of yours?” 

“The opposite,” you laughed a little. “I’ve known Joel… God, almost 20 years now. Jesus, I’m getting old. We just haven’t always talked during that time. We’re barely back on speaking terms now, trying not to rock the boat.”

“Sounds rough,” Derek frowned. 

“In fairness, the world did end in there,” you shrugged. “So I think some slack is due.” 

You’d been seeing Derek for more than three months and it was the first relationship you’d had that didn’t have the omnipresent cloud of Joel hanging overhead. With Tommy gone, he hadn’t come up. It made things easier. Your feelings weren’t different, they were just easier to take. 

Since the explosion the year before, you and Joel had struck a somewhat uneasy balance. You were no longer precisely avoiding each other you just… weren’t really seeking each other out. But every now and then instances happened like last week, where Tess wanted to meet and Joel just… tagged along. He mostly just sat there quietly, drinking a beer while you and Tess chatted a bit about goings on around the QZ and things you might need from the outside to continue your research. You got notes from her on things they were encountering outside the walls and what would be helpful to help them survive. Joel just… watched you. 

“Weird question,” you said as you finished your beer. ��With Andrew and Jess expecting, I’ve decided to become the official photographer of the QZ’s greatest baby and have been practicing. Can I take a picture of you guys? I need more models.” 

Joel looked like he was about to protest but Tess elbowed him. 

“We’d be honored, Doc,” she said, leaning her head on Joel’s shoulder. You snapped the photo and smiled. 

“I’ll give you a print when I’ve got them,” you said, stashing the camera away in your bag again. 

“How are you developing that, anyway?” Tess asked as you gathered the rest of your things. 

“Oh,” you glanced quickly at Joel before looking back to Tess. “My boyfriend is teaching me. He was a photography teacher before so he’s basically spent the last decade and a half just collecting photography things. Think he’s just happy to have a student again, to be honest.” 

“A boyfriend,” Tess smirked at you. “You’ll have to tell me all about him next time we meet.” 

“We’ll see if he sticks around once he’s got nothing left to teach me,” you winked at her. Joel was looking at you, eyebrows drawn together, jaw set firm. “Good to see you both. Let me know if you need anything before we see each other again.”

Joel’s eyes were on you until you left. 

“I did make an extra print of this one,” Derek said, a little sheepishly, holding up a self portrait you’d taken in front of your mirror. It was after a long day at the clinic. You’d taken off everything but your tank top. Your hair was still braided, the ribbon hanging from the end only half tied and there were splotches of blood on your skin. You looked exhausted but determined. “If it’s OK with you, I’d like to keep it.”

“If that’s one you really want,” you shrugged. “Definitely better pictures of me out there. You should know, you’ve taken, like, all of them.” 

“I like this one,” he said, half smiling a little. “I like seeing how you see yourself.” 

“All yours then,” you said. 

When you made it home that night, you took all the photos out, looking them over. You had extras of your friends to give to them but you kept coming back to the picture of Joel and Tess. The lines of his face were crisp and clear, the grays coming into his hair standing in sharp contrast to the darker strands. He was making eye contact with you through the camera, his dark gaze heavy even through the lens. You looked into his eyes now, the first time you’d really had a chance to in so long. You traced the outline of his face with your fingers before you put the print in your drawer, where it couldn’t make your heart ache until you let it. 

You hadn’t expected to see Joel and Tess quite so soon, but when Elias called a full staff meeting Monday afternoon, you made a plan to go straight to Joel’s after the clinic closed. 

“As of now,” Elias said, handing out sheets of paper. “FEDRA will no longer be manufacturing the following medications. We’ll have to find ways around treating the conditions addressed by these medications…” 

“This is bullshit!” Kristen said, a pile of papers still in her hand. “This is going to fucking kill people!” 

“I don’t agree with it,” Elias said. “But we don’t have a say. We’ve already gotten our last shipments of these medications…” 

You reached around Joe, one of the nurses, to Kristen and tried to grab one of the papers. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, handing you one. You looked at the list and frowned. The drugs you’d used when you were miscarrying were on the list. Your stomach churned. 

“What are people supposed to do?” You asked, looking up from the list. “What’s the point of this?” 

“They needed to reallocate manufacturing,” he sighed. “So we have to work around it.” 

You hardly heard the rest of the meeting. You’d helped who even knew how many people miscarry since coming to the QZ. It was always miserable but you didn’t have the facilities to perform a surgical procedure for everyone. The medication was life or death… 

“What are you thinking?” Kristen asked as everyone broke up from the meeting, a pallor cast over the shift. 

“I’m thinking that there are ways around FEDRA,” you muttered. “There’s shit on here that I use all the time. There’s the abortive drugs, there’s the apparent shift to only broad spectrum antibiotics even though I’ve all but fucking begged them to require specificity in QZs so we’re not breeding superbugs. There’s a statin on here that I’ve given patients this week…” 

“This is fucked,” she muttered, stalking off toward the back. 

It was a relatively quiet day and you slipped out a few minutes early, making your way to Joel’s quickly. 

You hesitated before you knocked. You hadn’t been here since the night that Joel had killed McCarthy. That night had haunted you for months, the image of his broken body turning up in your dreams almost nightly. You had the sickening feeling that someone had died because of you. Even if you were terrified of him, even if you felt like the world was better off because he was gone, even though you knew that if anything like that ever happened to Joel you’d want to do the same, you never wanted to be the reason someone was dead. Now, you were. 

Tess answered with a frown. 

“Hey Doc,” she said. “Not that it’s not always a pleasure…” 

“I need a favor,” you said quickly. She shrugged and opened the door wide. 

“Think I found…” Joel came out of his room holding a map and froze when he saw you, looking you up and down. 

“She needs a favor,” Tess said, going to sit on the couch. You sat across from her. 

“When is the next time you’re leaving the QZ?” You asked. Tess and Joel shared a look. 

“This weekend,” she said. “Why?” 

“Going anywhere that might have a pharmacy or five that haven’t been totally gutted?” You asked. 

Tess smiled. Joel groaned. 

“Matter of fact, we are,” she said. “And Joel mentioned that you can bake.”

Saturday, February 13, 2016 

“So really, just ignore Bill,” Tess said. “He’s basically Joel.”

“Ah, huge grumpy asshole?” You asked. She laughed. 

“Exactly,” she said. “Frank, though, is going to fucking love you.”

You’d been walking for a few hours already, seeing mercifully few infected, just one stray clicker that Tess took down on sight in two shots. Joel had stayed behind - grinding his teeth about it when you met Tess at his apartment just as curfew ended that morning - because, apparently, Bill wouldn’t take kindly to being outnumbered. 

“The fact that you brought cookies, though, might make Bill like you,” she said. 

“Way to a man’s heart and all that?” You asked. 

“He’s just a guy who appreciates good food,” she said. “So if you can bring him food he likes? You’re in good. Better than me, that’s for sure. And definitely better than Joel, though that’s a low bar.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Would it be,” you paused, searching for the word. “Weird for me to ask how Joel is doing?” 

“Better now than he was a few months ago,” she said. “Thank fuck. I was getting so tired of his bullshit with Tommy…” 

“What bullshit with Tommy?” You frowned. 

“Oh, you know,” she waved you off. “You’ve been in touch with Tommy, right?” 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “He sounded like he was settling in well out there…” 

“I think that helped,” she said. “Joel holding a gun to his head about getting out of town fucked them both over for a while, though.” 

You frowned. 

“What do you mean, holding a gun to his head?” 

You walked up to a large gate with a key pad and a camera mounted at the top. Tess smiled and waved at the camera. 

“Tess?” You asked. “What do you mean, Joel put a gun to his head about it.” 

She paused, looking at you. 

“I probably shouldn’t have said anything,” she said. “You should ask Joel or Tommy…” 

“Tess.” 

She glanced quickly through the wire gate, the door on a large, white house opening. 

“Look,” she said quickly. “I wouldn’t have said shit if I didn’t think Tommy already told you but Joel basically told Tommy to get the fuck out of Boston after the Fireflies blew up that FEDRA building…” 

“What?” You breathed. 

“It was a mess,” she said quickly. “But I think they’ve figured their shit out for now, we can talk about it more on the walk back… Frank!” 

A tall, bearded man in a plaid shirt was jogging over to you, smiling broadly. 

“Tess!” He opened the gate and pulled her into a tight hug. “Ugh, it’s been too long.” 

“I know,” she sighed. “FEDRA’s been a bear lately…” 

He separated from her and looked you over quickly, smile more hesitant. 

“And who’s this?” He asked. 

“Don’t worry, we left Joel at home and she brought cookies,” Tess smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Bill will deal.” 

Bill, in fact, did NOT want to deal. 

The cookies, however, did help. 

“How did you get that… depth of flavor?” He asked. There was a gun on the table in front of him as he chewed. You tried to ignore it. 

“Brown the butter, substitute soy sauce for salt,” you smiled. 

He looked at you. 

“Soy sauce.” 

“It’s got that umami thing going on,” you shrugged. “Tried it once with cupcakes when I was baking with a kid I was nannying and she desperately needed something for a bake sale the next day and there was no table salt in the house. Now it’s all I use when I can get it.” 

“Soy sauce,” he said again. He took the gun to the kitchen the next time he got up. It didn’t come back out. Frank looked impressed. 

Frank took you down to the pharmacy in town after tea. It was strange, walking through the streets of a town that was intact and so empty. 

“So you’re a doctor then?” Frank asked as you walked. 

“I am,” you smiled. “And I really appreciate you letting me see what your pharmacy has…” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he waved you off. “Not like Bill or I really know what to do with much of it, anyway.” 

“In fairness, neither does FEDRA,” you smiled. “If they did, they wouldn’t be doing stupid stuff.” 

“How do you know Tess?” He asked. 

“I’m an old friend of Joel’s actually,” you said, choosing to leave out the whole ‘she’s sleeping with the love of my life’ thing.  

“Really?” Frank looked at you, shocked. “Didn’t realize he had friends. What are you, the paranoid old man tamer?” 

You laughed. 

“He wasn’t paranoid or old when I met him,” you said. “Believe it or not.” 

“Having a hard time picturing it,” he smiled. “But I’ll buy it if you’re selling it. Only because you’re so convincing.” 

“It’s the cookies,” you smiled back. “They’ll convince anybody.” 

The pharmacy was well stocked and mostly intact. You looked at it in wonder, eyes wide like a kid at Disney World. 

“I have a proposition,” you said, looking at the array of medications. 

“I’m all ears,” he said. 

“I will give you the names of common drugs and what they treat and their dosages,” you said. “I’ll even mark them in here so you can find them easily, there have to be sticky notes in here somewhere, if you let me take some of what FEDRA’s cutting off.” 

“Sold,” he smiled. 

Frank kept you company for a while, making easy conversation until he decided to go back to the house to save Tess from Bill. You spent the afternoon cataloguing the contents of the pharmacy, creating a stash for yourself to take back to the QZ and putting the most common drugs aside and labeling them carefully so they had resources. 

It was later than you really wanted it to be when you and Tess got ready to go after Bill fed you an absolutely insane meal with venison and potatoes (you’d set your fork down and said “Are you fucking kidding me” after the first bite which, thankfully, the man hadn’t found offensive.) 

You managed to wait until you were a mile into the walk back to bring the Tommy subject back up. 

“So he really didn’t tell you why he left?” She asked. 

“As far as I know, he left because the Fireflies wanted him across the country,” you said. “He asked me to come with him and I said no…” 

“He asked you to come with him?” She gaped at you. You just nodded. She shook her head. “Well for fuck’s sake don’t tell Joel that, they’ll never talk again…” 

“Why?” You asked. “I don’t get it…” 

“You never seem to,” she sighed. “For someone as smart as you are you sure get confused by some of the most basic things.” 

“Gee thanks, Tess,” you snapped. 

“Sorry,” she sighed. “I just mean… You were always a sticking point for them. That’s why Joel told Tommy to leave. You. If he knew Tommy asked you to go with him? He’d lose his shit. I’d rather not deal with that again.” 

“What do you mean I’m why he told Tommy to leave?” You demanded. “Does he really hate me that much? That he saw his brother being friends with me and he just needed to make sure I was miserable?” 

“Doc,” she sighed but you pressed on. 

“I thought things were actually getting better, that he was actually ready to tolerate my existence again,” you said. “But no, apparently he’s desperate to make me as miserable as he is…” 

“Look,” Tess cut you off. “I don’t know the exact reason. I heard a bit from Tommy when he radioed to check in and Joel wouldn’t talk to him and Joel wouldn’t tell me shit, Joel never wants to tell me shit when it involves you. You’ll have to talk to Joel or Tommy.” 

“Sorry,” you sighed. “I wasn’t trying to turn this into a complain about your boyfriend session.” 

“Joel is not my boyfriend,” she laughed a little. “But it’s fine. Fuck knows the man has plenty worth complaining about.” 

You laughed at that, adjusting your now full backpack as you continued your walk back to the QZ. 

***

Joel really didn’t like you being outside the QZ without him. He’d fought Tess on it. He’d fought Tess on it tooth and nail but she eventually put her foot down. 

“Look, Joel, if you want to control what she does then you need to figure your shit out with her,” she snapped. “But right now, you don’t want to be in a relationship with either of us so you really don’t get to control what the fuck we do. I’m taking her to Bill and Frank’s and you can sit down and shut the fuck up about it.” 

She stalked off before she even had her coat on. 

Joel knew she was right. He didn’t get to have a say in her actions or yours, especially not yours. Not really. He was nothing to you and that was by choice. He’d chosen distance from you because it felt like the safest route, the one that would let him get through the misery that was the world after the outbreak alive. 

And now you were outside the QZ, just you and Tess and he had no idea if you were safe. He wouldn’t know for hours. 

He spent more of his day than he really wanted to admit to trying to come up with a reason to see you the day after. Just to make sure you really were back and really were OK. That you’d made the journey in one piece, that no one had hurt you. You’d stopped working Sundays at the clinic so he couldn’t go there. He supposed if he did something supremely stupid and showed up at your door with an injury, you’d treat him. It had been so long since he’d spent much time with you, he wasn’t sure what you might try to DO on a day off. Where he might be able to just bump into you in passing. Say hi. Check for bites from infected. 

He’d nearly talked himself into just dropping by your apartment without pretense when there was the sound of a key in the front door and you were there, with Tess. 

Tess came in and kissed his cheek as a pretense for whispering in his ear. 

“Sorry for this,” she said, patting his chest before going to his room. He frowned. 

“Can I talk to you?” You hissed. You didn’t wait for a response, just marching over to him, grabbing his wrist, and dragging him outside in to the cold February air. 

“Have a nice trip?” He asked. You ignored him. 

“Did you tell Tommy to leave Boston?” You asked. He shocked back from you. That hadn’t been what he was expecting. You pressed him. “Did you tell Tommy he had to leave fucking Boston because of me?” 

He paused. 

“Yes.” 

He wished he’d lied the moment he said it. The look of pain on your face was sharp, acute. Like you couldn’t believe he’d do this to you. 

“Do you really hate me that much?” You asked quietly. “So much that you’d throw your own brother out of town just to make me miserable? Is that it?” 

In half a second, Joel weighed his options. He could tell you the truth and break your heart. Tell you that one of your best friends had orchestrated the bombing that had nearly killed you and was responsible for the death of one of your former students. 

Or he could let you believe the worst of him, the story you were already inventing. He didn’t blame you for it, he’d spent the last decade doing nothing but trying to push you away from him. At some point, you were bound to believe what he was telling you. 

“At some point that girl is gonna stop forgiving you.” That’s what Tommy had told him once. Maybe he’d finally reached that point with you. 

He just nodded once.

“I thought things were getting better,” you sniffed, tears in your eyes. “I thought that we could maybe, finally, be friends. Was that all just a way for you to manipulate me? To hurt me more?” 

Joel didn’t say anything. The tears in your eyes finally fell. 

“Fuck you, Joel,” you said, voice wet. “Just… fuck you.” 

You stalked off into the night just as snow started to fall and you left him standing there, outside, alone in the cold. 

A/N: Some relationship building this chapter (and a break from the drama drama of the last few entries) and a chance for Doc to be the one to call Joel on his shit - even if she doesn't ACTUALLY understand the shit.

I have a tag list that I update when I post! If you'd like to be added, please comment below :)

Thank you so much for reading and following along with this story! I love you all!

PS - Derek? Totally James Marsden in my head. This is why he got a description, he is a 40 year old James Marsden because Doc can PULL. OK THANKS BYE LOVE YOU GUYS!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild @blackroseguzzi

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #fanfic #joel miller x you

[sabcandoit]

HI!!! I don’t usually do this but could I request a spider noir fic where fem reader goes out to dinner with him and then forces him to dance (maybe waltz or tango?) with the reader, if you don’t want to do it I completely understand!!! ❤️💙

Just wanted to say I absolutely L.O.V.E.D your other noir fic it literally had me blushing it was AMAZING!!!!

(Sorry if if the English is bad) :]

Thank you for the request and the compliments! I had a hard time narrating a waltz of tango, so I hope swing and jazz are sufficient. Here it is!

Let's Dance!

Spider-Man Noir x fem reader

Summary: "Reader goes out to dinner with him and then forces him to dance". Peter is awkward and acts like he can't around others, but soon warms up.

Warnings: straight-up fluff. Thats it!

A/N: Thank you all for all of the requests! They are still open! I really want to make a part 2 to Desire, so that might be next. This one is pretty short, but enjoy!

It was your average dinner date with Peter, finally together after a long few weeks of work. There was a nearby bar club where they served great food and exceptional drinks. The last time, you were there with a few friends. It was a pleasant night filled with watching talented couples dance and hearing all sorts of lively jazz music from the band. 

You both stepped out of the car, Peter wearing a dressier-than-usual suit and yellow tie to match your nicely fitted yellow tea-length dress. It had short sleeves and a creme color shawl covered your shoulders. You also had creme-colored short gloves and heels on. Maybe a bit formal for a bar dinner, but you had a plan to make this man dance. 

Both of you enjoyed dancing in your living room while listening to your favorite records, and you were not too horrible at it either. Peter was quite the lead. Of course, watching those couples dance the other night made you swoon, thinking about how you two would look. He was completely unaware of this, you knew how he would react if so. He would deny his dancing abilities and shoo you off in hopes that you wouldn't ask again. He knew you two were great at it but he was self-conscious. 

As the waiter sat you both down at a small table and handed you the menus, you took off your gloves and put them beside your purse, watching as he smiled at you. “What are you thinking of getting, doll face?” he asked before looking down at his options. 

“Oh, I don't know yet.” you paused, sighing lightly. As you both talked about what meals look best the waiter took your orders and the night progressed. 

“Peter, How could you?” you laughed heartily as he finished telling you a hilariously embarrassing story. “It wasn't my fault! It was definitely an accident.” he chuckled. As you continued eating, you looked over at the dancers again, them perfectly swinging and swaying. Now was your chance. 

“Hmmm,” you hummed mysteriously. “We should join them,” you suggested, whipping back to face him with a playful smile. He was fast to shoot the idea down, “Now, you're full of great ideas but this is not one.” he joked, shaking his head. “Oh, Peter, please?” you begged with a puppy-like pout. 

“No.” he laughed breathlessly, basically scoffing. You started to stand up, shrugging off your shawl and scooting over to his chair. “Come on…” you grinned, reaching out and gently pulling on his stubborn arm. “Sweetheart, I can't.” he tried to pull back uncooperatively, but you didn't let him, pulling harder and raising him up in the process. “Oh yes, you can mister. I know from first-hand experience.” you giggled. He followed you stiffly with a frown as you dragged him onto the floor. You looked down, taking one hand in his and the other on his shoulder as he placed his on your waist. You then looked up at him with raised eyebrows and a sweet smile. As the music started up again, a trumpet billowed out a catchy lick as the people around you started swaying. You could see that he was clearly uncomfortable, so you whispered quietly, “You’re doing great!”. He smiled through gritted teeth as he focused on your feet, trying not to stomp on them. You just continued encouraging him throughout the first dance, the music playing a soft jazz number. As the song faded everyone stopped to clap before getting back in place. This time a much more energetic tune started, Peter finally warming up. He took his hand in yours again, swinging to the rhythm and happily laughing. He then pushed you out, as you twirled and came back in as he dipped you, holding on tight. “Keep it up doll,” he mumbled to you.

After the last dance, you both let go and started walking back towards the table. As you sat down you were both out of breath and sighing with big smiles. “Oh, that was fun,” you exhaled. “You were amazing, young lady. Much better than I expected,” he chuckled sarcastically. You swatted at him lightheartedly as you both walked out of the club content. 

“We should do this more often,” you suggested, holding onto his arm and looking up at him. He blushed lightly, gazing into your beautiful eyes. He didn't want to say yes, but he knew he was defeated.  “Yes ma’am.” he gave in, looking back up and patting your arm affectionately.

#spiderman noir #spidernoir #atsv x reader #fluff #itsv #atsv #pet names #spider man noir x reader #spidernoir x reader #Peter Benjamin Parker #requests #requests open #fanfic #tumblr #into the spiderverse #itsv x reader

[lolitafushiguro]

periwinkle angel ♡ (kamisato ayato x reader)

ㅡ hehe, just a little something for the birthday boy, ayato ♡ although it's a bit late ~

He is quiet but graceful. Calm but mischievous. He is dutiful but cunning. Yet, even with these stark differences in his character, and behind his all too familiar and gentle smile he displays as a farce for everyone to see ー a facade as hard as the bedrock, a protection he wears due to his strong distrust on most people ー you captured him. You stole his heart, like a Mirror Maiden having him wrapped around your finger.

Kamisato Ayato is a noble who leads like an emperor. He is obsessive and diplomatic, but he is also loyal and kind. Within the chambers of the Kamisato household, he inspires his loved ones with warmth and he reaches great lengths to fulfill your favors.

If that means cancelling all his plans as the Yashiro Commissioner to spend a pleasant afternoon bubble tea and latte tasting with you? Then you don't have to worry as he just hit two birds with one stone.

If there are three things he loves in all of Teyvat, then it would be his bubble tea, his lovely little sister Ayaka and you.

Oh, dear you.

He sits by the terrace with a lovesick look on his face as you name all the drinks that Thoma and the other maids have prepared, all to your liking. Freshly brewed and mixed, all for the both of you to enjoy.

"Although it is a bit late, I asked Thoma for help in preparing these drinks for us. I love latte as much as you love bubble tea, but it would be lovely if we try out other flavors and indulge on these pastries on your special day." you chimed happily as you sit across the table.

Oh, you. He is going to melt because of you. Ayato almost forgot that it's his birthday due to how swamped with work he truly is. You weren't going to let that slide, and he loves you more for it.

"These are lovely selections my love, perfect for the current weather too. Summer is fast approaching and you couldn't have picked a better time." He beams, clasping his hands together as he sets his gaze on the array of drinks before you.

"Oh, that reminds me, we have been preparing for the Spring festival. Bubble tea tasting would be a splendid activity for the young folk to enjoy." He adds, deciding to take a sip of the chocolate bubble tea.

"You really think about work all the time, Ayato. But, I agree. These took quite some time to make though." You say, also deciding to pick a drink of your choice.

"Hmm, this one has a slight bitter taste to it, but it is complimented by the sugary flavor of the pearls. This would be cocoa?" Ayato inquires.

"Yes, the cocoa used was imported from Fontaine a few months ago. How do you like it?" You reply.

"It's just right, the taste of the chocolate is a bit too strong for me. I'll try this blue one next."

"That one's blueberry. It matches the color of your hair doesn't it? I told them to brew it until it reaches a periwinkle shade, to match!" You chuckle.

Ayato looks at you fondly. His lips curved into a smile, one that is not reserved for diplomatic affairs, but one that screams "I love you" all over it.

It's silly, really ー how he turns into a love bug when he's with you. How he seemingly lets go of any formalities and displays his pure nature, all for you to love and embrace in your arms.

The sun is setting in a lovely shade of pink and purple. You have tried almost all of the drinks and have shared countless conversations about the days that passed that you weren't together. And that ends with one resolution:

"I think I still like my matcha latte better." You say, finishing the said drink after. Ayato laughs.

"I would say the same. Nothing competes with the classic flavor of Black bubble tea."

You took a seat next to him and asked, "Did you like this fun little date?" holding his arm and looking up to him, expecting the obvious.

The periwinkle angel smiles and kisses you lovingly.

"Naturally. I wouldn't mind doing this again at the Spring festival."

ー Lolita

#lolita writes #ayato headcanons #ayato x reader #ayato x you #kamisato ayato #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x you #ayato fluff #like fluff FLUFF #this was too sweet for me i think the ants are coming #ayato x y/n #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #ayato hcs #belated happy birthday sweetheart ♡ #i read his lore just for this HAHAHA #i simp hard but when it comes to writing smut i falter and end up writing fluff instead #this is why i have massive respect for hardcore fanfic writers #100k words on a fic?? DEDICATION! my attention span cannot #anyways stan the stans