Considering writing more to this lil idea of mine. Not sure what to title it. But it'd ultimately be Aizen/Ichigo and some kind of "club" AU type thing. Idk I read a fic from 2014 and was sad there wasn't more to it. And the account was orphaned so :(
Brats Don't Prosper
Aizen speaks first. "You're quiet, Renji." He doesn't push much, not with words, but his raised brow is more than enough.
Renji drinks his sparkling water, having uncharacteristically avoided his customary gin and tonic. He's also avoiding Aizen's eyes, more deliberately than usual.
"Share your mind," Aizen requests, giving Renji the full weight of his attention.
Renji is silent for a couple more moments, staring into his hissing water.
"Remember that… friend I mentioned?" Renji asks, glancing up to meet Aizen's eyes only briefly before looking back down and rubbing his arm.
"The orange-haired one with the mouth and bratty tendencies?" Aizen asks. Renji seldom talks about any other friends so anonymously, often using others’ names in conversation. He's kept this one to himself, though. “Is he why you reached out before tomorrow?”
Renji looks genuinely uncomfortable, and that's a red flag for the older Dominant. "Y-yeah. He was wasted, trying to shower last night. Which-" Renji furrows his brow, "isn't like him. I found him just…” Renji's eyes go distant, reliving the likely distressing memory, “messed up his shoulder and stuff on the way down. But..." Renji closes his eyes. "He had..." He shudders. "There's bruises on him. Like. Not..." He waves his hand, "y'know. But bad."
Aizen nods, looking off to the side for some seconds to make Renji more comfortable.
"He's a masochist, is he not? What about the marks seemed unusual?"
"See, I asked… or I tried to. Shouldn't have, but I did and he said that they, whoever they are, didn't stop. That it was fun, seemed legit, until it wasn't. They got rougher, ‘n’ didn't stop at his safe word."
Aizen briefly flares his nostrils, feeling annoyed at such blatant disrespect and disregard. Before Renji can see, he schools his features. These things happen, possibly even in his own space, but he has safeguards in place. Prevention is easier than picking up the pieces.
"He told me some details, but I couldn't understand much. He said it happened last Friday. I found him Tuesday. Eleven days and he still looked like that."
It's Thursday mid-day. He's right. More than a week and his friend still looks so rough? Aizen's chest tightens, but he keeps his reactions to himself. He doesn't really get worked up, and Renji's fairly raw right now. Adding fuel to the fire and asking for information he doesn't have isn't going to be helpful.
"He's not usually... like... I don't know."
"Impulsive or reckless?"
"I guess? Like, not all the time. But he's been just..." Renji sits back and scratches his scalp vigorously.
Renji's getting worked up, and, frankly, looks exhausted. Aizen has no authority here, not technically, but as one of three hosting Masters in their area, it doesn't matter. His words still carry, as would Shunsui and Jūshirō's.
"Renji." He makes his tone firm, but not any louder. He hasn't needed to raise his voice at the red haired man in several years. He isn't about to start.
"Sorry." He crosses his arms. "I warned him, sir-- sorry, I-- gah."
"It's all right. I know it's a habit; you're doing nothing wrong, Renji, just be mindful." Aizen sips at his cooling Oolong. "Continue."
"I know as good as anyone that this stuff isn't therapy. I know that. We all do, sorta. Ichigo's going to get himself into trouble."
"Likely, yes," Aizen agrees flatly, setting his tea down and lacing his fingers.
"What do I do? I brought him into this lifestyle. I.. showed him this. And he ran with it, but I'm not a top, Sōsuke. I can't--" He's getting heated again; if it's progressed this much, Aizen's surprised this is the first he's hearing about it.
"Renji, I understand why you're worked up, but I want you to listen to me. Okay?" Aizen waits until he has the other's eyes and gives him a soft smirk. "You are not responsible for any of this. None of it. Do you understand me?" When Renji's head starts to turn away, Aizen follows enough to bring him back. "Do you understand me, Renji?"
Renji nods, and Aizen lifts his brow. He knows better than that.
"Yes, I understand you." He doesn't sound happy about it, hunching his shoulders forward and making himself smaller.
It's a start, Aizen admits to himself. He knows when to pick and choose his battles, and small victories are still victories.
"Wondeful. Now, is there anything you want of me outside of a sympathetic ear and a firm talking to?" He can see it clearly on the tip of Renji's tongue, but the man knows Aizen isn't going to offer. Maybe a couple years ago, but he's witnessed Renji grow too much in his home events and at outside gatherings.
"You can say no..."
"I'm aware," Aizen says, trying to add some levity while proving a point.
"Can Ichigo be my plus one tomorrow night, Sōsuke?"
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something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line
“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”
“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"
but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.
he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.
his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.
ghost doesn't let him.
"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."
soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.
he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."
the ice in soap's eyes fractures.
ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.
“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”
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Some Ballet!König thoughts from last night.
Because of his size there are a lot of ballets he just doesn't work for. If there isn't a solid "villain" one that isn't being played by a ballerina, then he's unlikely to be cast. There was a time when he would bounce between companies, a sort of shared asset of villainy, but now that he's contracted and committed (now that he knows you're there) he doesn't want to leave. Which means sitting out shows with the trainees. When your company announces its doing Giselle he knows he's not getting cast.
There's hope for you of course, plenty of roles for ballerinas in this one. He even mentions it while the two of you have lunch, asks if you're hoping for the lead or any of the pas de deux roles. He grimaces when you turn it on him and ask if he's hoping for either of the leads.
"You don't like Giselle?" You frown. He wonders if being cast as the lead for the first show of the season has perhaps colored your view of him.
"Nein, it's stupid." He doesn't have a fools chance of getting a part why should he like it.
"I think it's sort of romantic," you hum.
"One rich man's hubris dooms a young sick girl, that's romantic to you?" König raises a brow, you snort.
"Yeah I guess that's a pretty succinct description. Point taken," you concede, "I suppose there's not really a good role for you." König hums. You both pick at your food, sometimes it feels like you're better at communicating when you're dancing than face to face like this.
König watches you sip at an energy drink, your shoulders rolled forward, your legs spread and folded at angles that would be uncomfortable on anyone but a dancer. You're funny, somehow all the graceless parts of ballerinas mean nothing to him when they're yours. His beauty, pouting over a classic for him.
"You didn't tell me what you were hoping for," he brings the attention back to you. At least if you're cast in a roll with a partner he'll be able to practice with you.
"Oh, uh," you shake your head, "honestly dancing with you has sort of ruined the idea of dancing with anyone else, so I'm hoping to be a Wili."
Ruined, he certainly likes that word. "I'll have to keep dancing with you then." You dont look at him. What a shame. He wonders what else about you he could ruin.
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