#cringes

Cuddle prompt and/or sick prompt with Aizen, if you're feeling up to it. I love how write him. You capture his decadence and menacing so beautifully. 🥰

Thank you and happy Valentine's! I hope Kenpachi blesses you with battle trophies as a way of demonstrating his love!

sfw very very fluff mushy lovey dovey tooth rotting ending!!!!

A tight grip on his wrist suddenly stopped him in his tracks. He gave you a side glance, your pathetic disheveled state made him face reality. Reality he wished to flee from. Reality he wished to deny. The reality being his beloved was vulnerable and there was nothing he could do to protect you. It was nature taking its course. And he was below nature itself. For now.

You were sick for four days. He had been avoiding you as if you had the plague. He kept himself busy with affairs that really required his attention. And sadly, you were not one of those affairs.

You are an understanding partner. But there comes a time when you must become selfish and pursue your own desires.

The feeling of your hot clammy hand around his wrist was enough to stop him and his racing mind. You had a high fever and he could feel his body heat up from just a small surface area of touch.

“Have you been running this high of a fever all this time?”

You nod. You had a lot more to say but for now a simple nod would do.

“What is it I can provide that will be of any benefit? I do not have the luxury to lounge around while my army is antsy”.

“Just cuddle with me for a few minutes? I simply ask you to offer me some attention. The army will survive”.

“Attention? Would a few minutes of my undivided attention get rid of the fever?” That was a rhetorical question.

“Perhaps not. But it will offer me comfort to be in the arms of my lover”.

“Will it? Will it ease your mind? Or are you simply distracting me from my duties for your own selfish needs?”

“Sosuke!” Sometimes he needs to be reminded that you are not his subordinate.

He lifts up the blanket to settle beside you. You cozy up against his arm, head resting on his shoulder. The heat radiating from your body burns his flesh. Finally he had slowed down to appreciate the nature of your illness. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to share your warmth.

“Thank you”, you whisper, finally dozing off in his possessive arms.

“I can not help you in your current state yet you offer me your gratitude as a mockery. A humble reminder that there are even circumstances even Sosuke Aizen can not manipulate”.

An hour later you wake up from your nap. You look around and notice the empty space. A warm empty space. He had just left, sparing you an hour, more than what you had asked for.

You notice a piece of parchment on the table beside your bed. You grasp it, recognizing his calligraphy. Ink flowing across, words carrying your soul on a heart throbbing journey.

“My dear y/n,

As I lay beside you, a solemn silence claimed the air. Captivated by your straining breath, each passing second felt like eternity I could hardly bear. I have been tested on many occasions, scrutinized, but never once despaired.

But today was the day I surrendered to fate.

I held onto your fragile shivering body as you slept in my arms, reminded of morality that shall one day claim us all. So please my beloved, be strong and wait for me until I finally break the shackles of destiny.

My future is no future if it is without you.

I am no King without my Queen.

I am no God without my Goddess.

I am no man without my woman.

I may not be there with you but rest assured I left a piece of my heart within yours.

So as your heart beats within your hollow cage, let it remind you of our unwavering love that I promise to never betray.

S. Aizen.”

Astarion listening to "vampires will never hurt us" by My chemical romance

Roque had gone to bed at the same time as the sun, exactly eight o'clock pm, a firm believer in Benjamin Franklin virtuousness. Around midnight, his leg had started to ache. As he'd done many times before, he strapped the brace to his twisted limb and hobbled downstairs for painkillers, trying not to put pressure on his throbbing calf. He didn't normally have to limp, the brace made it so both legs were the same length and it didn't hurt most of the time. He'd had the deformation since he was born so naturally, he'd learned to live with it, and not to let it slow him down. People weren't going to wait for him to catch up if he fell behind because life, unfortunately, dictated the survival of the fittest.

As Roque made his way downstairs to the kitchen, he noticed a faint golden glow from the bottom of the stairs. He dismissed it as the streetlight outside the kitchen's picture window. It wasn't the streetlight.

He nearly had a heart attack when he turned the corner to the kitchen and saw a young woman sitting on one of his stools at the kitchen counter. She glowed the color of sunset, having the unsettling appearance of molten lava roiling like a nest of adders beneath clear skin. Like a lava lamp, he thought. Her molten eyes turned on him and their piercing gaze was almost physically painful. Roque made an inhuman sound. They stared at each other for what felt like hours until Roque remembered he possessed the ability to speak.

"A-are you an angel?" Roque asked stupidly. He didn't know why he wasn't running right now. Calling Thea or his dad. Of course she wasn't an angel. What even.

"Not really." The woman replied. Roque almost relaxed a little, because she had a beautifully comforting voice. She sounded like she could be a mother.

"Am I dead?" Roque asked, half to himself.

"Do you smell almonds?"

"What?"

"When I died, I recall distinctly smelling almonds."

"So you're a ghost?" Roque was dreaming. He was dreaming all of this. That was the only explanation.

"Can I help you with something..? Do you want tea?" He babbled. This was probably a hallucination. Why was he offering tea to a figment of his imagination? Roque strove to be a polite host in all situations but this was too far. This was a kitchen ghost, for Saint Peter's sake. She shook her head, declining the offer. He noticed that her hair floated slightly longer in the air than a gravity-obeying object should. Of course her hair didn't obey physics. Why would it.

"I look strange to you." The woman-creature stated.

"Yeah, a little." Roque replied in wonder.

"I came to ask you a question."

"Okay? Go ahead, I guess."

"I would like to tell you my son's story, if you'll listen. I thought it might be helpful to you."

"I would, but I have to go back to bed. I have to work tomorrow." He was not going to waste his night talking to someone who was probably not real. His leg hurt still. And he was so, so tired.

"It will take no time. Please, I don't have many hours left on this plane of existence. And I leave joyfully, so I will be glad to make it short."

She seemed to be sincere. Roque's conscience wanted him to stay as well. The woman may be just a figment of his imagination, but she looked almost desperate to tell her story, and if she was about to die, the least he could do was be with her in her last hour. He didn't see anyone else around to comfort her. And death was terrifying.

"Alright, I'll listen."

She smiled softly. "My name is Astoria. I was once a star. I believe your kind called me Polaris. And your name is Roque Saphelt Harrelle. A true mouthful, but a pretty name in my opinion, and it honors your heritage well."

Roque's jaw seemed to forget that it could close. "How did you know my name? You were the North Star?"

She merely smiled at him, and again he thought how much like a mother she looked. Kind eyes that crinkled at the edges. Short, lovely, but practical hair. Eternal wisdom hidden behind young features.

"Come." The woman, Astoria, did not answer his questions but instead gestured for him to follow her. Roque had no idea why, but he obeyed. He let her lead him out the front door of the duplex he called home into his front yard. Only it wasn't his front yard any more. He gawked at the new surroundings. Ruined, smoking buildings crumbled like dying giants in the distance. The sky was a hazy yellow-red and the air smelled like death. It looked like the Only City, just, well, utterly devastated. What had happened here? He turned to stare at where his home had been moments ago, and saw a building that was still relatively intact. A school. The sight of a learning institution in the midst of the desolate, groaning surroundings was jarring. Astoria walked lightly to the window and peered in to one of the classrooms. She motioned for Roque to join her at the window, and he made his way across the grey-grassed schoolyard, avoiding broken glass.

'There he is." She pointed to a boy, sitting in the back of the classroom, peering out the window. The boy seemed to stare directly at Roque and he stepped back from the window hastily.

"It's okay." Astoria assured him. "They can't see us. We are merely accessing the echoes of the past that still reverberate through the plane of time."

"Oh." Roque was too overwhelmed to say anything else. He returned to the window to get a better look at the boy. He was wearing a red sweater, carefully patched black jeans, and looked cleaner than most of the other thirty or so kids in the room. He looked like he was taken care of.

He had thick black hair and deep blue eyes that seemed to reflect the very universe back at Roque. He looked lonely.

"That's your son?" Roque asked Astoria. She smiled and nodded.

"He doesn't look like you." Roque stated. Obviously. The boy wasn't a glowing yellow kitchen ghost.

"I didn't always look like this." Astoria sighed. "Before I died, I looked very much like him. He had my eyes, and his father's face."

"What's his name?"

Astoria took a deep breath.

"He was Junius Remus, named for the month of his birth. He saved your life."