#finally had a chance to draw stuff from hollow mind

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Reminiscence - Second Tempo

A/N: So! Second Tempo is a continuation of the First Tempo posted here. Just like the last, it’s part of the Haikyuu! HQ Server Collab; check out the rest of the work on the flaming smut pile.  ===================================================

“Oi, it’s Ukai. Leave a message.” “Oh, Keishin…” Your body writhed against your fingers, phone pressed against your ear as another gasping moan ripped through you. The pads of your fingertips glided over your sensitive nub effortlessly as you grinned into the phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear. The game of cat and mouse had been going on for well over six months between yourself and Keishin; the ceaseless war of attrition had the teams and your students wondering who would break first. An international volleyball conference had you and the Karasuno girls’ team pulled away from Miyagi, from the handsome coach with those sharp, leering eyes.

“I know you’re away for training camp with the team…But I need you, Keishin.” Lust coated every syllable, each word dripping with desire as your fingers teased over your nipples and dripping folds. Another lascivious moan echoed into the receiver as you slipped a single dainty finger into your twitching hole. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off of myself…god, I wish it was your fingers slipping inside this tight, needy hole…” Sprawled out on your hotel room bed fresh from a shower, your wet hair plastered itself against your neck as you continued to rock into your own hand. 

He invaded your thoughts; like intrusive kudzu he wrapped himself around your senses even halfway across the world. Did he know how you had ruined two pairs of panties at the last voicemail he sent you before the girls’ last match that day? Did he realize how desperate you were to be home? Could he hear it in your voice? 

“Keishin,” you whined out, fingertip just brushing your g-spot. With a soft growl, you snatched your phone from your ear and put the device on speaker so you could angle yourself to reach deeper. With your body able to contort a little easier, the phone rested next to your flushing face against the pillowcase. Your body jolted into waves of pleasure as your legs tensed into your stroking. “Fuck, I can’t wait to come home, oh fuck, oh fuck, Keishin…”

The familiar stars dotted your vision as you bucked into your hand, clit rubbing fitfully into the meat of your delicate palm. You could almost see the flash of bleached-blond hair, the tanned skin stretched across those long, toned forearms. Painfully arching your wrist to drive your curling fingers into that familiar, soft spot you clenched tightly around your thin digits. You couldn’t fight the orgasm that threatened to overtake you quicker than anticipated. “Oh, fuck, Kei…Keishin!” Your words were gasping, breathless sounds, the same sounds he took pride in drawing out of you. 

“It should be your cock I’m cumming on. Why isn’t it your cock, Keishin? Fuck, I…” Another cry left you trembling as you came around your fingers. The ecstacy you felt solo was a pale shade of what you had grown used to with the snarky coach. You whimpered into the phone and shifted the sheets around you, arms hopelessly searching for him in the stark white abyss of your hollow afterglow. 

“I can’t wait to see you, Keishin…Until then,” you closed and hung up the phone. A small grin bloomed over your features as you came down from your brief high. The back and forth of phone tag and stolen video chats for the past week made you long for the thug-faced twenty-something coach fiercer than you could imagine. For the moment, the extra pillows in your bed would have to suffice as a sub-par substitute before you could nuzzle into the warmth and inhale the smoke and sweat from his skin again.

~

It was a long day of drills and penalties for the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club at the joint training camp with Fukurodani and Nekoma. The boys continued to run themselves full tort against the other two teams, trying to refine and rebuild their skills on the court. Keishin found himself getting frustrated with the lack of progress the team was making, even considering the upperclassmen were bordering on complacency. Daichi assured him they were trying their best and maybe it was time for their coach to take a break. 

He ambled from the gym with a lazy kind of grace and fumbled for his cigarettes and phone from his pockets. His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the voicemail notification he saw across the screen. The tiniest of cocky grins stretched his mouth into a crooked curve as his thumb hovered over the play button. “Damn, must’ve just missed her,” he sighed, pressing play and holding the phone to his ear. The second your moan, your deliciously sinful voice graced his ears his face heated up and his ears flushed a deep red. Your voice went straight to the growing tent in his sweats, an ache he would be sure you repay you for in kind when you returned. The wailing fit on the other end was audible to passers by as the flustered coach turned the volume down with thick, numb thumbs. A dark-haired Fukurodani student passed by, green eyes narrowed at the coach’s flustered appearance and wordlessly made his way into the gym, no doubt to start another four-on-four match with the boys of Karasuno. At the end of your message, Keishin leaned into the brick of the gym and finally lit his cigarette. He took a long drag, longer than he would have normally if it wasn’t for your scintillating voicemail. Once his heart slowed, his thumbs furiously typed out a reply. K- You could have warned me, little girl. Y- And ruin the surprise? You liked it. :)

K- Time and place. Y- Is that all you have to say? :( This different timezone stuff is the worst, Keishin.

K- That’s something we can agree on. It’s just another day, right? Y- I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. Closing ceremonies run until tomorrow afternoon, but flight leaves a day after. K- Text me next time, little girl. And tell the girls to kick ass during their last exhibition match. Y- Does it make you mad that my team’s doing better than yours, Mr. Big Bad Daddy Crow? >:D

K- Just wait, little girl. You haven’t earned your wings yet. We’ll see how much fight you have in you with my hand around that pretty neck of yours and your lips wrapped around my cock. 

He chuckled darkly at the thought of your ruined face, chest heaving, gasping for oxygen as he held your lips against the hilt of his cock. He knew you well enough to know that your face would be about thirty shades redder than his was listening to your siren song after reading his message. God, you were never more beautiful to him than when you were sobbing out for release, begging for him to make you his. Fewer things kept him warmer at night when his wide palm wrapped around his cock than thoughts of you with that lewd, haunting passion playing in your eyes. When you didn’t reply, he shook his blond head and snuffed out his smoldering cigarette filter against the wall. Of course you’d have your fingers stuffing your cunt; it couldn’t compare to his touch. He adjusted his headband deftly and pocketed his phone again, only glancing down at his cock, half-mast for a moment before another distraction pulled him away from his thoughts. Two days were going to feel like an eternity. At least he had your voice in his pocket. 

~

You yawned as your girls took the court in their last match against the American team. The manager eyed you suspiciously as you blearily watched the game unfold. “Long night, Coach?” You nodded and hummed, rubbing your eyes. The boy stood a whole head taller than you, appraising your drowsy visage. “Must be hard being away from home.” “Mmmhm. It’s easy to miss home from so far away.” “I’m sure Coach Ukai feels the same way, Y/n.” “Toshi!” Your tone was scandalized in your chiding as the younger boy stifled a chuckle. “We should be focusing on the girls. How do you think they’ll do today?” He smiled, pride swelling as he watched his team warm up. “It’s been a long week.” “They’re tired, but they’ll push through. We’ve taken the W with less in the tank before.” It was your turn to feel proud of your girls. It was true– their rise to the top, for the acknowledgement that came with the invite to a tourney on the international stage was huge, even if it was just an exhibition tourney. There was something about the game that kept you grounded despite the tumultuous turns of your life. It brought you back to those long-thought forgotten memories, brought you closer to your high-school crush. Part of you was glad you took on coaching the counterpoint to the boys’ club; it brought meaning to your career to that point. “Michimiya! Remember, it’s supposed to be fun!” you called out to your team captain, Toshi nodding in agreement solemnly from the sidelines. Aihara, your ace nodded and gave a quick thumbs up before the ball went into play. Before the other team had a chance to receive the serve, your attention was pulled from the court to the vibrating phone in your tracksuit pocket. You had half a mind to silence it, leave it ignored and let it go to voicemail. Your attention should have been on your team, your girls, but… You pulled the phone from your pocket and bit your lip at the sight of his name reading across the screen. You excused yourself from the sidelines and made your way to the hallway leading to the locker room, bringing the device to your ear. “You were gonna keep me waiting, little girl? That’s no way to earn your wings,” his voice rasped out between hurried pants. “Oh, fuck…” Heat crept up your neck from your neat, white tracksuit jacket. Suddenly, everything was too hot. You worried your lip between your teeth and fought back a whimper as Keishin growled in your ear. You did some quick maths in your dazed state and gasped into your phone. “You should be asleep, Keishin! It’s nearly two in the morning…” “Couldn’t sleep, not when I had to get you back, naughty little girl. Did it feel good cumming on those fingers without me? Did it satisfy you knowing you were cumming without my permission? Was it worth it?” “I…” “Answer me, little girl,” he continued to groan, the sound of skin gliding across skin caressing your eardrums between his moans. You could practically feel his smug expression over the phone. The sinful breath on your ear had you wishing you could be there to watch, to touch him and run your fingers through his hair as he worked his cock in that large hand he loved to wrap around your blushing throat. “I’m waiting,” he teased. “It can’t compare,” you whispered, striding with hurried steps into the locker room. His voice frayed at the edges and had you practically dripping down your thighs under your track pants. The power his voice had over your body was undeniable. “I couldn’t help myself. I…” “Aw, poor little bird. At least you’re honest.” You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat at the nickname, but struggled. Mouth dry and thighs coated in your slick, you struggled to find your way back to reason, to the here and now. Half a world away, you sunk to the locker room bench and let out a shuddering sigh at the sound of the other coach’s debauched moans. He was close, that much you could tell. How long had he been stroking that thick cock? Was he imagining your lips cradling his glans, your saliva dripping down his balls? Could he see you dragging his head along your lips and your eyes peering up at him through a fringe of dark lashes? How many times did he listen to your voicemail before he thought to call you and dish out a dose of your own medicine? “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me like I need you, little girl.” “I…I want you,” you whimpered, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear. You fumbled with your track pants and slid them hastily to your knees, your practiced fingers rubbing yourself through your soaked cotton panties. “Oh, Keishin, I need you.” You bit back a soft moan, still tender from your activities from the night prior. “That’s it, little bird. Don’t stifle yourself. Let me hear you. Where did that gorgeous voice go?” “I…Keishin, I’m at the tournament,” you gasped, that sensitive nub twitching with arousal under your busy fingertips. He let out a surprised grunt and you swore you could feel him double over on himself. “Fuck…fuck, Y/n, I never took you to be such an exhibitionist. My little bird’s getting brave on me, huh?” The sound of the door to the locker room opening made you freeze for a second before shuffling your pants back up your thighs. “Coach? Coach, are you okay? The other team’s called a time-out. Did you want to do a swap?” Toshi’s earnest voice echoed in the otherwise empty room as you struggled to get the words out without sounding like you were another second away from moaning like a porn star for the man on the other side of your call. “Answer him, little bird. Don’t stop touching that clit for me. Let’s see you earn those wings…” “Ah…yeah, have Watabe swap in. I…I need a minute. Must have been something I ate this morning.” Keishin grinned on the other end, still stroking himself languidly as he listened to you lie through your teeth to your team manager. When you heard him retreat back into the gym, you let out a shuddering sigh, your legs trembling around your hand. “Such a good little bird. I’m close. You gonna come with me?” You nodded as if he could see you, still focused on the sounds coming from your phone. His breath hitched as he choked on his moans, movement stilling on his end of the phone call. You gasped in tandem, fingertips slipping inside your waiting heat. He must have known you were close based on your breathing alone. He let you continue until he howled out his release, leaving you breathless at how completely beautiful he could sound coming undone at the thought of you. “Please, please, Keishin,” you huffed out, sweat trickled down your neck as you ground yourself into your fingers, stretching against your slick, velveteen walls. “Stop.” “But-” “I said stop, Y/n.” “But…but Keishin…” “Naughty little girls don’t get to cum when they’re bad. Mm, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck, Y/n,” he teased again before hanging up. You sat in silence, frustrated and slick with your own fluids. Aggravated, you pulled your pants up the rest of the way and stripped off your jacket. Approaching the sink, you patted cool water against your burning skin and stared yourself down in the mirror. So it was another challenge he wanted? You had him eating crow out of your beautifully manicured hands before and you could do it again. Your team wouldn’t be the only ones getting a win. A plan came together, neatly, quickly despite the lingering haze of lust. Spite and frustration cut through your need like a white hot razor, and all you could fixate on was the thrill of victory both on and off the court. “Setters aren’t the only big brains on the court,” you mused to yourself as you reappeared on the court, hands buried deeply into your pockets. Toshi cast a sidelong glance in your direction, subtly taking in the hard set of your jaw and the color rising in your cheeks as you stared down the opposing team’s coach from across the gym. You grit your teeth, eyes dark with determination. If he wasn’t mistaken, he almost thought you were taking this game more seriously than just a simple exhibition match. Regardless of the reason, the team manager found himself grateful he wasn’t the object of your ire. “Hit it ‘til it breaks, Sasaki!!” Your yell rattled the team manager as it echoed through the gym over the roar of the crowd. The puddle in your panties only fueled your frustration the longer you dwelled on Keishin’s denial. You wanted to breathe smoke, to destroy something beautiful just to prove you could. “Stupid, big-brain setter,” you growled under your breath as your team took another point from the Americans. “Coach, why do I get the feeling you aren’t talking about the other team?” “C’mon, girls, you’re better conditioned than that!! Go for the kill!!” “Yeah, you’re definitely not talking about the other team.” The conference couldn’t be done soon enough, and the next two days were going to feel like the longest of their lives. ~ Few things in life brought Keishin Ukai more solace than quiet mornings over a cup of coffee. The only thing that could have made it better was your groggy face smiling sleepily across the table at him. Sunlight bled through the kitchen blinds, staining everything in garish gold and yellow in the pale light. Hair loose, he carded his long fingers through his bedhead with casual grace and absently scrolled through his phone as the coffee continued to brew. It would be just a few hours before you would be home; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited for your return. In the safety of his home, he could let some of that boyish glee bleed out as he searched through your old photos. As if he could forget your face, the sway of those devastating hips, or the way you’d catch your lower lip between your teeth when you were flustered. As much as he owned you, the power you held over him and his emotions was undeniable. From the moment you stepped foot on his court he was your willing captive. He set his phone aside to pour himself his first of what would be many cups of coffee. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the heady aroma, dark and bitter before it hit his tongue. Relaxing in his seat a little more, he sighed through his nose. The chiming of a text alert pulled him from his brief reprieve. Y- Good morning, Daddy Crow :D! We’ll be home in a few hours. I can’t wait to see you. Keishin chuckled into his steaming mug and took a long sip. Wryly amused and even a little annoyed by your pet name for him, he typed out his reply unhurried. K- We’ll see how tired you are when you get back. Ten hours and change is a long time to spend in the air.

Y- Don’t remind me. No idea what I’m going to do to stay occupied. 

K- I can think of a few distractions. 

He waited, watching the ellipsis flicker over the text banner for your reply, his heart rate picking up in anticipation. What fresh hell awaited him when you finally hit send? Vaguely he had an idea of how badly you wanted to get back at him for leaving you hanging during his last call, but you were too sweet, far too forgiving to want revenge. Y- I’m sure you can. What do you have lined up for today?

K- Not a thing. Just waiting on you. It wasn’t like you to not take his bait; he could practically feel the ice from your reply. Was it the distance? You were only gone for a week, but was it enough time for your relationship to cool? “Shit,” he muttered, rolling a cigarette between his fingers as he reread your reply another six times. “Guess she is mad…” He mused and fussed over your text before lighting the paper tip and taking a careless drag. The blue-gray haze hung around his kitchen like a comforting veil. He waited another moment before he saw you typing another response. He tore his gaze away from the device to ash his cigarette in an empty beer bottle he had sitting on the kitchen table; when he returned to it, the sight that met him had him melting in his chair. Your delicate frame was seated on a sea of white, the barest hint of emerald lace curling in elegant patterns along the swell of your ass. Hair pulled to one side in effortless waves of jet, your bare back was on full display, tantalizing him with the gentle curve of your spine and adorable dimples framing your tailbone. Your face in profile, he could see the faint rose dusting your cheeks and nose, the dreamy sparkle playing in your eyes as you held your breasts away from view. He knew that far-away gaze all too well– it played behind your eyes when you would look at him, when you would think about his strong hands exploring your body. His eyes lingered on the definition of your thighs, all the while longing he could feel them squeezing his head as you trembled into his waiting mouth. It wasn’t the lewdest photo he’d ever seen, but it hit differently when it was you. His mouth went dry and he felt himself get lost in every detail, as if he could memorize every scar, every freckle if he stared long enough. Y- Enjoy your distraction, Keishin.

When did you find the time to take photos? Was that the only one? Questions raced through his mind as he lingered on the picture, fingertip tracing along the swell of your hips. God, he was such a sucker for those wide hips and built thighs. He might have admired your drive and ability to keep up and run drills with your team, but he really wanted to see just how far he could push you until you broke.

“It’s just ten more hours. I can hold out for ten hours.” ~ Six months together and it took a week apart for him to salivate over the smell of your perfume. All the distance, despite the frequent calls and text messages, only intensified his undeniable thirst. You were his meet-cute, the high school crush who got away. There would always be that part of him that wondered how he got so lucky crossing your path not once but twice in his lifetime. If he were a betting man, he’d probably put more stock in fate or soulmates after meeting you, but it wasn’t his style to be so sentimental. Travel always took a lot out of you. Keishin caught you yawning on your way from the baggage claim, only aware enough to know where to step without tripping. Grinning like a fiend, he took his moment and pulled you into an empty lounge. Startled, you swung your first and jerked out of his hold, only stopping your thrashing when you caught the bemused twenty-something rubbing his stubbled jaw. “Fucking hell, is that anyway to say hello, little girl?” “Oh my god, Keishin!” Your hands flew to his face and he could have died a happy man on the spot. “I’m so sorry! You can’t just do that!” Your chest tightened at the rumbling chuckle that reverberated under your fingertips. “Keishin,” you sighed, holding his stubbled face in your thin hands. Studying the sharp planes of his face, your eyes practically sparkled with delight. He was here, real under your palms flashing that same cocksure grin that had you flustered since you first stepped up to challenge him on the court. “You gonna keep staring at me or what, little bird? C’mon, let’s ge-!” Rising to your toes, you pulled him to your lips and left him struggling to catch his breath, your perfume lingering after you withdrew and bounced away, tugging him along from the airport lobby. Head swimming, he followed, allowing you to lead him around until you remembered who drove and the simple fact that you had no idea where the car was. It was easy to forget you were an accomplished adult when you let your excitement take the wheel, but it brought Keishin closer to what might have been before you disappeared when you were still children. He never got the chance to watch you play back then, a regret he tucked away with the first night you murmured his name in your sleep. His single-minded ambition kept him from really seizing the chance to get to know you as a person instead of an idea back then. Packed away in his well-loved sedan, you couldn’t help but fidget in the passenger seat, anxiously bouncing your foot below the dash. Unfazed, he reached over and placed a hand on your knee, halting the bouncing movement with a stern glance. Color bloomed in your cheeks at the gesture, body relaxing just enough under the warmth of his palm. Braver still, he slowly ran his fingertips along the line of your thigh, stopping just below the clothed apex of your leg. Keishin never took his eyes off the road, but he knew just where to brush to make your blood sing. He followed your movements, subtly tracking your reactions to his innocent caressing. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, little bird.” 

The bait was set, almost painfully obvious as you continued to squirm into his waiting palm. “I’m not shy. I’m..”

“You’re what? Use your words,” he smirked, dragging his knuckles against your sex. The motion was so casual you might have applauded him for his audacity if it hadn’t been a week since you felt him touch you. Muddled between your jet lag and the growing haze of lust ensnaring your senses, you fumbled over your words and whimpered something about thinking about how much you missed him. “That’s what I thought.” Whether it was the nonchalance or the gentle pressure he exerted on your core, you felt yourself slip closer into that familiar euphoric headspace. It was almost embarrassing how wrapped around his finger he had you; it wouldn’t be long before he’d have you wrapped around him literally as well. 

~

You wanted to scream, to gnash your teeth and beat something to a bloody pulp. At least you could take out your frustrations on the court. The girls took the day to strength train in the school’s weight room, leaving you to your own devices in the second gym. You could see his almost-apologetic face, the slight upturn of his lips when he sent you to work with a chaste peck on your hair. 

“I just couldn’t bear to wake you…”

“Tch, likely story. Stupid, big-brain setter!” You hissed through your teeth and imagined it was his disembodied head you were spiking over the net with a satisfying crack. Your attentive team manager threw another ball and watched as you continued to fume. 

“Are you trying to pop a ball, sensei?" 

"Less talk, more throw, Toshi.” He shook his head and tossed another ball, only for you to bounce it off the floor twice to center yourself before your inevitable spike. Unsatisfied, you shook your ponytail and jogged to the opposite end of the gym to practice your jump serve. Toshi watched on, hanging his head as you sent another ball flying in his direction. “Jesus Christ, Himewari!” he screeched, ducking out of the way. You huffed in irritation, barely registering the clattering of gym doors opening. The ball rested daintily in your hand, your eyes narrowed with the smooth rubber leaving your palm before the inevitable punch. Keishin knew better than to leave the safety of the annex when you were serving, but he could watch you soar forever. Leaned against the cool wall, his headband gently digging into his scalp with his blond head resting into the drywall, he couldn’t help the crinkle of his eyes when your hand finally connected with the abused ball. Sweat glistened like diamond dust on your skin, the crop top you wore doing nothing to temper his wandering gaze. As you hung in the air, he hummed to himself, remembering Shimizu’s words when he first saw you serve. “You really do have wings, little bird…” When you landed and reached for another ball he made his presence known, his footsteps falling faintly over your light panting. This was how he liked you best, dark hair mussed and sweat dripping down the valley of your breasts. It was almost a shame, he thought to himself, that he wasn’t the one making you such a mess. He stopped just a few feet behind you only to catch the tail end of your cursing his name for leaving you high and dry on your return. As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, like catching the faint scent of ozone on the wind before a squall, Toshi took his leave and escaped into the weight room, leaving you alone with the other coach. Caught mid-approach, Keishin wrapped his arms around your smaller frame and buried his nose into your ponytail. You froze at the sudden intrusion of your personal space and the ball fell from your waiting palm, its fall echoing through the empty gym. “Thought I’d find you here,” he purred. Hackles raised, you pushed away from him and made a dash for your club jacket. Keishin used his height and longer legs to his advantage and followed close behind. If it was a chase you wanted, he’d give it to you. He let you sprint to the locker room, hand resting on the handle before he turned you by the shoulders and caged you against the wall between his arms. Looming over you, he smirked and licked his lips at the deepening flush creeping down your neck and across your collarbones. He smelled like tobacco and neroli, his cologne making your head spin. The smoke lingering on his breath had your thoughts racing– you were in high school again, fantasizing about being trapped in those arms with those sharp eyes drinking your timid expression so patiently. “What’s the matter, little girl?” he started smugly. His pupils dilated, leaning his head in to bear down on you further. “Can’t rise to the challenge? Where’d all that fight go?” Keishin licked his teeth and breathed into your ear. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” he teased, running his nose along your hairline. Your breath hitched; how did he always know how to make you feel so small? The thought incited more anger, more fuel to the fire burning in your belly as you jerked your ear away from his hot breath. “No, you don’t get to do that. I’m not going to let you win that easily, Keishin.” Your voice was low, almost dangerous. The animosity was one-sided, and the other coach snickered at your new-found boldness. “I don’t think you get it, little bird,” he growled, wrapping a firm hand around your thin neck. “I’ve already won.” Swallowing hard, you worried your lower lip between your teeth, his favorite tell, and stared him in the eye. The predatory gleam made you weak in the knees– he knew it. He could feel you falter under his capable palm as he gave your neck a gentle squeeze. Keishin loved seeing you like this– wrestling between reason and your desires, pinned beneath him with that fire burning behind your eyes as if to remind him that you only permitted his control because you knew how completely yours he really was. The nip of his teeth on your earlobe sent you reeling, swooning into his stubbled cheek. “Please,” you whispered. “Not here.” “No? You sure?” As if to capitalize on your wavering resolve, he raised a knee to rest just between your thighs, a silent dare to test him and see just how far he’d make you go. Instinctively, you ground your pelvis against his knee and shuddered at the delicious pressure on your core. He grinned against your cheek. “Because I think this is exactly where you want it.” Hips rocking, your anger slowly melted away as he continued to tease you, still pinning you to the door by the throat. “I think you like the idea of almost getting caught, little bird.” Your whimpers doused kerosine on the slow burning embers he stoked with his teasing. “Keishin,” you gasped, his free hand trailing down your sticky body to pull your hip hard into his waiting erection, grip hard enough you were sure you’d have bruises by the time he was done. “We don’t-” “Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you then.” Your thighs squeezed around his knee, cunt fluttering at the thought of your combined spend trickling down your thighs on the walk home. His grin was sinful, eyes sharp and hungry as you melted into his knee. He could feel your slick soaking through your shorts, the sensation earning a groan you just barely made out. “Mark you as my little crow inside and out,” he purred, long fingers feathering along the waistband of your shorts. “Yeah, I think you like that idea.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You caught his gaze through your dark lashes, leaning into his hand and waiting hips as if to lay your own bait. Your own hands caught in his hair and pulled his headband down. How you loved running your fingers through those blond waves; you rolled your hips and gave his hair an experimental tug, earning a low groan in return. He surged forward and captured your lips, a fight for dominance to the end. Tongue tracing hungrily along the curl of your lips, he softened his hold on your neck and pulled you closer. Hand on your nape, he let out a hiss when you bit him, a flash of blood lingering on your lip in return with a satisfied grin. “Oh, cocky now?” Keishin gave your shorts a shove over your generous hips. Anxiety and excitement bubbled in your chest as you squirmed against him. He was still hard muscle and sinew despite years away from the court, more than enough to handle you at your worst. “Let’s see you be cocky now, little bird.” His fingers glided along your sopping cunt, earning a sharp moan at the sudden brush along your neglected clit. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fuck,” he breathed, too enraptured by your responsive body. “Keishin, please,” you whimpered, clutching his shoulders as his deft fingers continued to tap and rub slow, agonizing circles around your glistening clit. “Please, please fill me…” “How quickly your resolve falls apart, my little crow,” he purred into your hair, fingers now sliding into your drooling pussy. You bit back another moan, head arching back into the door as Keishin scissored his fingers against your already fluttering walls. “You’re fucking drenched.” “Please, please…I need you. I need to feel you, Keishin.” Legs trembling, you rocked into his hand, keening at the pressure his hardened fingertips exerted on your g-spot. Even accidentally, he had a way of luring out the most beautifully debauched moans from you. He continued to work you open, trying to make up for a week without laying claim to you in the span of minutes. Keishin growled low, feeling himself get lost in your whining, in the warm squeeze of your welcoming cunt around his fingers, in how completely devoted he was to hearing you moan his name like that one more time. You heard the zip after you felt the lonesome ache of loss, only to be filled again to the hilt with a gasping cry. Keishin grit his teeth and leaned into your writhing frame, bracing himself against the door as you squeezed his cock from head to hilt like a velvet vice. “W-wrap your leg around my hip,” he ordered shakily, peering at you through a curtain of soft gold. You did as instructed and felt him wrap his arm around your back, pulling you closer as he rocked into your heat with a moan of his own. “So fucking tight, Y/n…” Stars faded throughout your vision and left you feeling dazed. “So good,” he moaned, resting his forehead against yours to glance down where your bodies connected. You balanced on your toes, meeting his thrusts with your own. “Keishin,” you cried in return, arching your back off the locker room door as your first climax claimed you. Keishin grit his teeth and fucked you through the first of many, angling his hips to drive his cock deeper still, earning a harsh shriek. “Keishin, don’t stop!” “Wasn’t planning on it,” he groaned, bottoming out with a stutter. “It’s like you were made for me.” You let out another cry, clinging to the coach as tears pricked your eyes. He rutted against your cervix with a pained grin, knowing the longer he pressured against that button the sooner you’d be begging to be filled and defiled. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, slowing as your walls clenched around his cock with the advent of another orgasm. You trembled helplessly against him, body practically weightless in his arms as he continued to prolong your pleasure if only to draw out his own. When you came down, you brushed your nose along his and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. Toes curling in your trainers at the devastating sight in front of you, you gave another keening cry and buried your face into his shoulder. “Y’know, for someone so worried about being caught you sure are loud.” He grinned into your hair and hammered his hips into yours, earning another loud wail in protest and in pleasure. Your nails caught the tanned skin of his back, a vicious trail of red left in their wake as he brought you to another peak. “That’s three…” You bucked against him, fitfully chasing again after that same high only his cock could bring you. His name a prayer on your lips, he allowed you to take because you gave him so much in return. Every moan, every gush of your juices around his cock he took and devoured, knowing you wouldn’t be afraid to earn his end in return. “I can feel you twitching, Keishin. You’re close, Daddy Crow.” His hips stuttered as you whispered the pet name into his ear, holding you tightly as he bottomed out in your spasming cunt. “Hard not to when you’re fucking milking me.” He’d never admit it, but he would stay buried inside you forever if you’d let him. Only the unsynchronized whisper of your breathing and the slick slap of skin on skin surrounded the two of you in the empty gym. Entangled with the other coach in the darkened hallway, you found his lips to muffle another moan when your attention was pulled away from your bliss by the slamming of the gym doors. 

"Coach Himewari! We’re getting ready to go!” It was Michimiya your team captain. Her footfalls echoed softly, rubber tapping against the laminated wood. She paused for a moment when you didn’t answer. Keishin grinning sadistically against your lips, he held your hips flush against his, grinding his cock into that spot that frayed the edges of your vision and made your quiver around his girth. “Hm, I guess she already left…” the team captain mused before shuffling closer to the locker room door, only to quickly turn away at the opening of the door. 

“Come on, Yui! Let’s just go! Toshi can catch us up later.” Grateful for Aihara pulling her friend’s focus, you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. Keishin redoubled his efforts, dragging his teeth along the hollow of your neck. Even muffled your moans were music to his degenerate ears. You stiffened against him with the sinking of his teeth into your neck, a stifled cry and final squeeze signaling your end. Keishin wasn’t too far behind, growling into your salt-slicked skin. The heavy doors clattered shut as he moaned out his release, the heat building in your core as he spasmed into your waiting womb. 

“Fuck me, Keishin…” you breathed, half chuckling half panting. He held against you, comfortable in your combined heat as he peppered soothing kisses along your neck and into your hairline. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you like almost getting caught.”

He hissed, slowly withdrawing from your core and watched as his cum slowly started trickling from your pulsating hole down your sturdy thighs. He tucked himself back into his jeans and watched you languish against the wall for a moment, playful grin lighting his face. Deftly he collected the escaping seed and shoved it back into your abused cunt, earning a pained whimper before he pulled your panties and shorts back up to keep the rest from spilling. “Don’t waste it, little crow.” He wiggled his fingers along your lips and you greedily sucked them clean with wide, innocent eyes. Your combined taste coated your tongue, sweet and bitter all at once. “That’s my good girl,” he crooned, planting a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. 

Your anger evaporated, you slumped against him, head resting comfortably into his chest. “I’m ready for a nap, daddy crow…” you whined. Blond hair slicked with swear, he carded those long fingers through and hoisted you up onto his shoulder, carrying you out of the gym with your mess ruining your panties and shorts. 

“Oh no you don’t. As soon as we get home you’re making up for every voicemail and tantrum, Y/n.” It was going to be a long night. 

#keishin ukai x reader #haikyuu hq #keishin ukai smut #tw: phonesex #tw: phone sex #tw: public sex #tw: publicsex #big daddy crow's getting some lovin'

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

In My Dreams Tonight

for @chaotic-bard who asked me for some fluff!

have a soulmates that dream about each other au featuring both a modern au and the canon universe!

brought to you by “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays

---

“You’re nothing but trouble, bard,” the tall man glared from atop his horse. He always seemed to be glaring or glowering or huffing, the man in Jaskier’s dreams. The familiar stranger wore his long white hair pulled halfway back and he had golden eyes, the pupils of which were slit up the center like a cat’s. His name, Jaskier had learned after the third straight week of seeing him every night, was Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, apparently, whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

“Ah, but what a lovely piece of trouble I am!” Jaskier replies. And he’s rather sassy himself in these dreams. Far more clever and ready to fight than he is when he’s awake. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The stranger hums a lot. He glares and he hums. Jaskier’s heart stutters frightfully in his chest whenever the man smiles, though. The sight is rare. Geralt has smiled perhaps three times in the past two months.

“Where are we going today?”

“Werewolf outside of town. You’re staying at the inn, where I know you can’t get into… nevermind. You can get into trouble anywhere.”

There’s a lightly teasing tone to the stranger’s voice that Jaskier hasn’t really heard before. He likes it. He craves more of it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, his skin damp with sweat. The dream goes on.

“Geralt, please,” he whines, “I can’t write ballads about monsters I haven’t seen! Or fights I did not attend! That’s lying to my audience, Geralt, and I simply won’t do it. I must go with you.”

“Drop it, Jaskier,” the man snarls. Jaskier feels sad. Incredibly sad.

Rejected?

“Gera-”

“I said drop it, bard.”

Jaskier wakes up feeling a little heartbroken and he yearns to be held. His pillow holds the fading scents of leather and wood-smoke. The sight of a pine sapling at the dog park makes him tear up.

He starts to wear the color yellow out of nowhere and his taste in jewelry switches from gold to silver. 

When his best friend asks him about the recent changes, he cannot answer.

---

Geralt pours himself a mug of tea and shakes his hair out of his face. He’s been having odd dreams lately, things that feel familiar but manage to stay just out of his conscious grasp. Someone important is waiting for him. Someone he love and cares about and needs. 

Geralt doesn’t really buy into the concept of soulmates, but he does understand instinct. He knows to trust his gut. He knows to listen and start paying attention when the same haunting blue eyes creep into his dreams every night for six months, plaguing him in the waking hours by refusing to give up their owners’ identity. 

He wipes a hand down his face and sighs loudly into the otherwise empty studio apartment. “Fuck me, I gotta figure this shit out. I gotta talk to Yen.”

Talking to himself has always helped him calm down. He does it again, just to hear his own low voice scraping through the silence. 

“I gotta see what’s going on with my head. These dreams are… getting to be a bit much, even for me.”

He nods to no one in particular and goes to text his best friend and coworker.

---

Jaskier hops off the bus and carries his guitar case down to the coffee shop on the corner. Finally, he’s managed to get a gig that wasn’t through the university.

He sets up his stuff in the tiny alcove the shop treats as a stage and watches as a few customers stroll around near the counter, waiting for their drinks or reading through the menu, hovering just far away enough from the line to keep others from growing confused.

He loves people watching. 

Once everything is ready to go and the light outside the window has dimmed a bit, indicating early evening has finally arrived, he pulls his guitar onto his lap and strums through a few quick chords.

“Rode here on the bus,

Now you're one of us.

It was magic hour,

Counting motorbikes on the turnpike;

One of Eisenhower's.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who starts a fire just to let it go out?”

He watches a particularly handsome man with broad shoulders and a vintage denim jacket approach the counter. Jaskier adds a haunting, well-practiced lilt to his voice as he goes into the chorus, hoping to get his attention:

“If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight?

If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight, tonight?”

An equally beautiful woman with long, curly black hair approaches the denim-clad angel and whisks him towards a table nearby. She settles with her back to Jaskier, leaving him with a decent view of the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, glittering eyes, and severe white ponytail. He’s gorgeous.

He’s also uncomfortably familiar.

Jaskier continues to perform, trying to identify his attractive mystery man the whole time and failing miserably.

---

“He’s everywhere, Yen. I feel like I could identify him by scent if I got close enough. I can’t remember his name, though. Or the color of his hair. I don’t know his face, only his eyes. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Have you talked to Dr. deStael about it?”

“Yeah, but she said this kind of thing is normal. Recurring dreams often help us sort out our trauma or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t feel traumatized by this guy I feel… protective of him. Maybe even like I love him?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Shut up for a minute, this live music actually slaps and I want to listen to it. Then we can discuss your weird possessive tendencies towards your dream boyfriend.”

Geralt takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances up at the singer off to their left, perched on a barstool with his guitar held carefully on his lap. His voice is soft but somehow bright. Geralt finds himself utterly entranced.

“On the weird guitar;

Said you'd go to work

In the waking hour.

In fluorescent light,

Antisocialites watch a wilting flower.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who builds a wall just to let it fall down?”

The lyrics are strange and hold a dream-like quality to them. They draw a picture in Geralt’s head, something dark and heavy and oddly hollow. He has another sip of coffee and tries to ignore the feeling of panic welling up inside him. He glances at Yennefer to see if she’s picked up on his mood, but her violet eyes are focused on the singer and his nimble fingers as he continues to play and sing.

When he glances up towards their table and their eyes meet, Geralt loses the ability to breathe.

That shade of cornflower blue was…

Couldn’t be…

Had to be…

The gorgeous, feathery tenor continues to fill the air, whirling pleasant notes past his ears and deep into his subconscious. Geralt knows that voice. He’s heard this man laugh and sing and cry and scream a thousand different times. Through a handful of different lives. Geralt knows that face, those hands, those strong legs and long arms and blue fucking eyes. He’s held this singer in his arms every night for centuries, feeling his breathing as they both drift off to sleep.

He has protected this man and been protected by him in return. He has kissed and been kissed, caressed and been caressed. The two men sitting across from each other in the coffee shop physically embody an endless cycle of love. It has been bound up in the souls of two no-longer strangers. Geralt knows that he knows this man. 

He knows Jaskier.

Petal pink lips continue to form soft words and slender hands keep plucking at vibrating guitar strings:

“Don't sit by the phone for me,

Wait at home for me, all alone for me.

Your face was supposed to be

Hanging over me, like a rosary.”

Geralt stands suddenly, startling Yennefer but not the performer, even though he’s clearly just as shocked as Geralt about this recent development.

Their mutual realization.

“So morose for me,

Seeing ghosts of me,

Writing oaths to me,

Is it so naïve to wonder…”

Geralt crosses the room to the edge of the stage in three quick strides. Yennefer is close behind him, her latte just as abandoned as his coffee at their table. She grabs her friend’s arm as if to stop him from doing something violent, but when he doesn’t struggle against her grip she lets it go again easily. 

“Geralt?” the musician asks.

“Jaskier?” Geralt replies. The guitar is placed quickly to the side and a pair of incredibly familiar arms are thrown around the taller man’s neck. Geralt hugs back just as firmly, his arms flung low around the brunette’s waist. Geralt knows that this is Jaskier’s favorite way to be embraced; he doesn’t know how he’s aware of that fact, but it comes to the front of his mind clear as day. 

“Holy shit,” Jaskier breathes, leaning back to stare Geralt in the face. One of his string-calloused fingers traces down over Geralt’s eyelid and cheek and he cocks his head to the side. “No scar?”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “Not this lifetime, I guess.”

“Were we? Are we- are we, you know...?”

“Yeah,” Yen beams, adding her two cents from the sidelines. “I think so. Congrats, boys. This is one of those one in a million chances and you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Geralt asks. Jaskier tosses his head back and laughs. His happiness rings out through the cafe like a struck bell and Geralt’s heart stutters frantically. He really does love this man already. Wholeheartedly and without fear. “What have we done, Yen?”

“As obtuse now as you were then,” Jaskier chides affectionately. “Soulmates, my love. We’ve been bound by the red string of fate and ta-da! Here we are. Again, apparently.”

“Yes, okay,” Geralt breathes, nosing his way along Jaskier’s jaw with giddy determination. He presses a quick and wholly welcome kiss to the bard’s lips. “That makes sense.”

 “Do you... do you want me again? This time around?” Jaskier asks, fingers fiddling with one of the ties on Geralt’s hoodie. A pair of chapped lips press against his again and he sighs into it, melting against his no-longer-Witcher. 

“Yes. And the next one, as well.”

#bouncey's sappy hours #geraskier #geraskier fluff #yen #yennefer #yenerference kinda #getting together #soulmate au #prophetic dreams #geraskier soulmate au #geraskier soulmates #shared dreams #modern au #geraskier modern au #kissing #first kiss #magically getting together #prompt fill

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 15: The Woman of Balnain

Summary: Jamie finally sits down with a certain book.

Read on AO3

Read chp 15 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, masterlist, next

They spent the afternoon in lazy bliss. Together, they’d gone into the kitchen where Jamie had shown her how to whip up a burrito. Although most of it clearly went over her head, she had such a good time that she asked to make something else directly after he finished eating. 

After a brief explanation on how humans get full after eating, he gave in and offered to show her how to make cookies. 

Jamie felt distantly like his life had turned into a romcom as they baked cookies together. When Claire bumped him teasingly on the side, he grabbed a handful of flour and chucked it straight at Claire. Her mouth fell open in mock dismay before an impish gleam shone in her eye. Jamie learned that afternoon the true reason the word “impish” had originated to describe the fair folk. 

Claire was mischievous and exuberant in her retaliations. Handful after handful of baking supplies had been lobbed in his direction, shoved down his clothing, mussed into his hair, and even discreetly snuck into his pockets when he was later occupied with sticking the baking sheets of cookies in the oven. Long after their initial food fight had ended, Claire continued their little game. 

Later that afternoon while they sat together on the couch (the faerie’s legs draped over his, Jamie’s hands shoved under his own legs in order to keep from caressing her soft skin that was right there), Claire had produced a handful of oats from nowhere and shoved them down his collar. He’d flung her legs off, grabbed her waist, and threw her over his shoulder without a second thought as she squealed and thrashed. Stalking to the kitchen like a caveman with his prize draped over him, he unceremoniously plopped her down and then dumped an entire bowl of excess flour over her head. 

“I give up,” she screeched, smacking blindly at his chest with her flour-caked face still screwed up, puffs of powder exploding from her lips. 

“Promise? No more surprise attacks when I let down my guard?” he asked guardedly, trying to keep his grin out of his voice. 

“You have my word,” she promised. She gave him a grave, floury nod. 

Feeling quite magnanimous now that he’d won, Jamie grabbed a dishtowel, wet it, and then approached Claire. 

He cupped the back of her head, feeling her curls tangling between his fingers, and gently wiped the flour from her face. Once her eyelids had been cleaned, she opened them and stared up at him with a soft look. His bones felt like they had been turned to water to be receiving such a look, and he struggled to focus on the task at hand as he tenderly dabbed at the spots of flour still left on her face. She stayed quiet, just looking at him and allowing him to clean up the mess he’d made. 

How he loved her. 

When the moment finally broke, their gazes tearing apart, Jamie inspected her hair. 

“No way I’m gettin’ this out of these curls. Do ye want a shower, a nighean?” 

“I would never say no to a shower,” she beamed. 

So, he’d graciously turned it on for her and then explained that he was going to get some work done. Leaving her to it knowing full well that she’d be in there for a long time, he headed for his office. 

But it wasn’t work he had in mind. 

There was another matter tickling at his brain. One he’d been itching at for far too long. He’d barely had time to breathe, let alone sit down and address it, until just this minute. 

He needed to read the book that the eccentric bookstore owner had shoved into his hands.

Unsure how to explain the strange interaction to Claire and disinclined to possibly worry her over nothing, Jamie still hadn’t mentioned anything about it. He’d been waiting to read it until he had a moment alone. 

Settling into his office chair, Jamie stared down at the cover of the mysterious book. He was motionless for a few seconds, feeling a strange uneasiness. 

The title was The Woman of Balnain. It was short, perhaps a novella, and the description on the back said that it was about a time-traveling lass. Why would the mysterious Geillis give this to him? 

He was just about to start into reading, but as he opened the book, several sheets of paper suddenly fluttered out and onto his lap. Warily, he picked them up, turning them over to see what appeared to be hastily scrawled notes. 

The words at the top made him draw a sharp breath. 

“The Standing Stones of Craigh na Dun.”

The following notes seemed like a jumble to Jamie, the words swimming together in his mind in his haste to take them all in. He began to read so fast that several times he had to pause and reread. Geillis— at least he assumed that she was the author of these notes— wrote about planes of reality, magnetic fields, magical properties of the standing stones...

And below that was another section that was entitled “traveling.” 

Gemstones. One could travel from this plane to another— through the stones— by use of gemstones. According to this, only some people (or fae, he supposed) could travel. But those who could had discovered that gemstones ensured their safety.  

His hand was shaking so hard that he dropped the papers entirely. He brought his trembling hands up to bury his face into them. The gravity of the situation sat heavy on his shoulders as the realization descended. 

If this was true, he’d just been handed the way to get Claire back home. 

*

What followed was perhaps an hour of frantic, mind-bending sorting of thoughts. He read and re-read over and over, trying to ensure that he truly had understood the implications of the document. But no matter how many times he reviewed the words on the page, the meaning was clear: If Claire had a gemstone, she could safely use the stones to return to her plane. To her people and her life. Away from him. 

But then he spiraled into doubt. How did he know he could trust this mysterious Geillis and her instructions? But as much as he wanted to deny it— to dismiss the entry as garbage and all thoughts of Claire leaving along with it— he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his wame that this was the truth any more than he could refute the fact that Claire deserved a shot at returning home. Besides, something about Geillis had seemed odd… mystical perhaps. Not in the same way Claire did, but he certainly believed that whoever (or whatever) the bookkeeper was, she knew a hell of a lot more about this stuff than he did. And she’d known about Claire. So in the end, while he wasn’t certain that she was a friend per se, he thought it likely she was at least an ally— and he believed what was written on the page was the truth. 

Once Jamie had addressed comprehension and credibility, he moved on to his sorrow. 

Grief over the thought of losing Claire. 

He was no longer lying to himself about the extent of his feelings. He was in love with her, plain and simple. Infatuated, enamored— all those things— but it went deeper than that. She’d walked her way straight into his heart and burrowed in there as sure as she did when she nestled against him in his bed. And now that she’d filled that empty space in his life, he couldn’t even imagine going back to the hollow loneliness of existence without her. 

Every part of him longed not to tell her. He could crumple up the page and throw it away, or better yet, he could burn it up without a trace, and she’d be none the wiser. 

But his mind swirled with images, memories eating at him that he couldn’t quite ignore. Claire crying against him only a few days ago, weeping for all she’s lost. Her trepidation as she’d faced the terrifying unknown of the city. The sheen of tears in her eyes that she’d fought back as she admitted Jenny had made her scared… 

As he thought about all she’d been through since being ripped from her home, he knew that taking away the chance to return would be unfair. He wanted to be selfish— God, help him, he burned with it…

But he loved her enough to let her go. 

A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye— scalding as it dripped down his cheek. He sat motionless in his office chair, his hand squeezing his opposite arm so tightly that the nails made deep red indents in his flesh, but he knew what he had to do. 

He’d tell her. 

Decision made, Jamie stood from his desk. His feet felt like they were encased with lead, and he was light-headed, as if all that thinking and agonizing had sucked his brain out with a straw. As horrible as he felt, he was resolved, and he made his way sluggishly downstairs. 

The scene in the living room nearly shattered that decision. 

Claire was asleep on his couch, all curled up and shoulders hunched under the fuzzy throw blanket she had clutched around her. Her bonny pink lips were parted just slightly and tiny whooshes of air tickled a single curl that had fallen over her face. 

He ached to see her like this for the rest of his life. 

Just as he was about to turn on his heel and leave her to her rest (this was not the time for such a heavy revelation), she stirred. His stubborn feet anchored him in place as he watched her shift, head lifting a bit, and her eyes blinked open. 

“Hi, Jamie,” she breathed sleepily. 

While giving him a fond but drowsy smile, her head nestled back down onto the throw pillow. She looked up at him with eyes that always reminded him of a fawn’s. 

“Havin’ a wee rest?” He asked tenderly. 

“Yes,” she breathed. She glanced him up and down appraisingly and then said, “maybe you should too. You seem tired.” 

Jamie was tired. He felt like he’d been put through a meat grinder several times over. Still, he knew there was no way he’d actually sleep even if he could tear his eyes away from her long enough to close them. 

But if Claire wanted a nap, and was hinting for him to join him, who was he to deny her?

He indulged his selfish desires for a moment and approached the couch so he could bend down and run a hand over Claire’s hair. 

She smiled drowsily and leaned into his touch. Her eyes blinked slowly as she gazed up at him. 

God, she was beautiful. 

“Let’s go upstairs, mo nighean donn,” he suggested quietly. 

His sleepy faerie did not seem inclined to get up. Her eyes had fallen closed again, but her hand blindly reached out for him. She caught his cheek, her fingers tracing over the stubble on his jaw. 

Then, suddenly, her eyes popped open. 

“Are you alright, Jamie?” she asked, her whisky gaze swimming with concern. 

Her abruptness startled him, but he quickly snapped himself out of it and put on his brave face. 

“I’m fine, Sassenach. Do ye want to stay on the couch or go up to bed?” he softly asked. 

Her brows furrowed, disbelieving, but she firmly answered, “with you.” 

He felt bad that he’d upset her but couldn’t seem to drag himself out of the cloud of depression that had wrapped around him the moment he’d decided to take her home. 

But he’d have this one last time with her, and he wouldn’t ruin it with dark thoughts. 

“Alright. Let’s go, mo nighean donn.” 

She sat up, eyes fixed on him all the while, and then took his hand. The way she was looking at him, soft and searching, made his heart skip a few beats. He hardened himself to the overwhelming desire to pour out his heart to her, lay all the cards on the table, and beg her to stay. But he knew in his bones that this wasn’t the time. 

Her thumb was tracing lightly over his knuckles, patient as he struggled inside himself. 

A part of him wanted to bury his face in her neck and let her stroke his hair— she would do it, he knew. All it would take was him to make the motion, take the comfort from her. 

But that wouldn’t be fair. If she saw his distress, she would feel guilty about leaving him. He loved her too much to put that burden on her. 

His puir heart was breaking, but he managed to wrap it up in a thin layer of composure, scoop up his scrambled thoughts, and put himself back together. He gave her a brave smile, feigning nonchalance. 

Breaking the silence, he said, “let’s go, mo calman geal.” 

He took her upstairs by the hand. She was still sleepy, but not inclined to let that stop her from caring for him— even if she had no idea what was going on. He could feel her hovering anxiously by his side, trying to figure out what was wrong. 

As they sat down on the bed, Claire tried to tug him down to cuddle with her, but he shook his head. Settling against the headboard instead, he guided her down to lay her head in his lap. 

He wanted to watch her. Just this one last time. 

Sleepy as she was, but probably even more so because she wanted to do whatever was best for him, she complied. She snuggled down into his lap and settled herself so she was comfortable. 

As he carded his fingers through her hair in gentle strokes, Claire began to relax. It wasn’t long before she drifted back into sleep. The lines on her face smoothed, and she seemed to melt into him impossibly further. 

His hands still moving soothingly against her, Jamie returned to his thoughts. A terrible weight rested on his shoulders as he came to a realization. 

He wouldn’t be strong enough to tell her here— in his home that had become their home (at least he felt that it was theirs)— and still manage to make the drive to the stones. It was selfish to keep this from her, but he simply wouldn’t be able do it. There were limits to his goodness, and he prayed God would forgive him for this one. 

So, with his mind made up, a plan began to form. 

He would tell her tomorrow that they were going for a hike. They’d drive out to the stones, and he would explain once they got there. His Grandfather’s ruby ring laid on his dresser— that would be what he’d give her to ensure safe passage. And then… then, she’d go home. 

And that was that. 

This was his last night with her. 

He looked down and studied her face for a long time, trying to memorize every tiny detail. He knew it would be the remembrance of her that would warm him on the cold, lonely days that would surely follow. He traced her face reverently, first with his eyes, and then as his selfish, breaking heart took over, with soft touches of his fingertips. 

All that was left was to pray that tomorrow he would have the strength to send her away.

***

A/n: I believe now is the time for me to hide 😳

Next

#oh boy #all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #claire/jamie #fae claire

[brittywritesstuff]

offer me that deathless death, good god let me give you my life

Read on AO3

Warnings:  A bit of sexiness

“Cas!” The details are hazy as to how they got here; Dean can hardly remember any of it. It’s all a blur of blood, sweat, tears and celestial power… The important thing is that he’s back. He’s here and he’s real and he’s back. The thing resonating the loudest in his head now: We’ve got time. He throws his arms around the angel; one hand splayed out between his shoulder blades, the other grasping the back of his head, Dean’s fingers curling in that mess of dark hair. Sam’s behind him, shuffling his weight, ready to give his greetings, but Dean couldn’t fucking care less.

He pulls back just enough to grasp Cas’s face, his eyes dragging over him, like he’s making sure everything’s there. Every freckle, every line, the breathtaking blue of his eyes, the perpetual stubble, scratchy beneath his fingers. “You-- you’re here. You’re you?”

Cas holds his gaze, tears flooding that stunning blue. “Yes.”

“Man, it’s so good to have you back.” Sam crowds in, clapping Cas on the shoulder. Dean relents and steps back, his hands falling away from Cas’s face. He doesn’t want to let go, though. He’s afraid if he lets go, Cas will just disappear. Or the Empty will take him back. And he can’t. He can’t handle that. Sam seems to take the hint and steps back, glancing at Dean with a smirk. “Sorry. I’ll let you two catch up.”

Sam remains and clears his throat, watching his brother, who can’t take his eyes off of Cas. Eileen is at his elbow, and tugs at his sleeve. He looks down at her, and they exchange a look. Leave them alone. “Alright.” Sam shakes his hair away from his face and nods, like he’s made a decision. Dean tries not to hear the smirk in his voice. They’ll have a conversation about this later, he knows, and he’s not entirely interested in it. But, for the moment, he’s glad that Sam is leaving it be. “We’re heading to bed. I’m beat.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, his eyes still fixed on Cas. “Night, Sammy. Eileen.” Sam waits a beat, then takes Eileen’s hand and finally leaves, and Dean drags in a breath. His heart is racing, and he wonders if Cas can hear it. Suddenly, the panic room makes him feel too vulnerable, remembering what happened here. “Can we--” He stops and clears his throat. “Can we talk in my room?”

Cas’s eyes search Deans, and he nods slowly. “Of course, Dean.”

They walk together to Dean’s room, their footsteps too loud and echoing in the silent, still bunker. Cas steps through the door first, and Dean follows, closing it behind them. With Cas’s back to him still, Dean scrubs his hands over his face, trying hard to calm his nerves. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it to the desk chair. It misses and flops to the floor, but he doesn’t bother to pick it up. “D’you-- you wanna make yourself comfortable?” He asks.

Cas turns to him, his brow drawn together in confusion.

“The, uh,” Dean gestures to Cas’s coat. “The coat. You wanna-- you can-- if you want.”

Cas looks down at himself, his fingers trailing the lapel of the coat. He hesitates a moment before shrugging out of it, and the suit jacket. He drapes them carefully over the back of Dean’s chair, then bends to pick up Dean’s, giving it the same treatment. Watching it makes Dean’s heart ache.

“Listen, Cas,” he starts. Cas stands upright again, his eyes fixed on Dean’s, and there goes his heart again -- ready to pound out of his chest.

Cas tilts his head, and Dean tries to read the look on his face. Is that pity? “You don’t need to say anything, Dean.” He huffs, a wry smile turning up one corner of his lips. “I told you my truths, and I made it clear I know that it — you — it’s something I can never have. I made peace with telling you. I understand it’s… it’s unrequited. You don’t owe me an explanation--”

“But I do!”

Cas stops, closing his mouth. His brows draw together, and he tips his head.

Clearing his throat, Dean swallows against the sudden dryness. He glances away, focusing on a spot on the wall like it’ll give him the strength he needs to say what he’s gotta say. “Look, Cas,” his gaze drops to his shoes briefly before he finally forces his eyes up again. Cas, of course, is watching him patiently and intently. Dean moves closer and clenches his fists. Spit it out, Winchester. “Fuck,” he breathes, shaking his head, “there’s a lot. I… All that stuff you said, about me, I…” The lines between his brows deepen. “You really think that?”

“With my entire being,” Cas says, with no hesitation.

Dean nods, like he’s trying to rattle the thoughts into their proper places. “I never got the chance to say anything. You say it, and the Empty’s there, and you’re gone. That wasn’t fair.”

Cas sighs. “I’m sorry, Dean. I--”

“That wasn’t fuckin’ fair because you died not knowin’ my side of things.” Clenching his jaw, Dean takes another step forward. He reaches out, settling his hands on Cas’s shoulder. He pauses a beat, then decides, fuck it, and slides his hands up, his fingers brushing Cas’s neck before cradling his jaw. “No one’s ever seen me like that. Not even me, Cas.” He searches the angel’s eyes, feeling tears well in his own. “You’ve seen everything, and you still-- you--”

“Love you,” Cas finishes for him. “Yes.”

Dean punches out a breath, and when he blinks, those tears spill over. Instead of wiping them away, his thumbs brush Cas’s cheeks, once again delighting in the scratch of stubble. “I ain’t ever felt like this about anybody. And it scares the shit outta me. And I guess I never thought... I never thought you could or whatever, but damn it, Cas. I do love you. You can have me. All of me.”

Cas’s lips part in surprise at Dean’s words, but Dean takes the opportunity he’s wanted for years. He leans in and kisses Cas. It’s slow and tentative at first, but Cas relaxes into him, his hands gripping at the back of Dean’s shirt. Dean’s tongue glides along Cas’s bottom lip, begging entrance, and he groans when Cas allows it. One hand shifts to the back of his head, gripping at Cas’s hair as he deepens the kiss, holding Cas as close and tight as possible. His fears from earlier had yet to dissipate; the last thing he could possibly handle is Cas disappearing again.

When Dean needs to breathe, he tilts his mouth away, his forehead pressed against Cas’s. His eyes remain closed, and an actual fucking smile turns up his lips. “I shoulda told you a long fuckin’ time ago, Cas. I shoulda done this long fuckin’ time ago. I’m sorry. I just--I--I didn't--”

Cas’s hands smooth up Dean’s back, and pull him closer. “Please don’t apologize, Dean,” he whispers, his breath warm on Dean’s face. “Just... don’t stop.”

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s spent years denying it. He’s spent years beating himself up over it. But he’s done. He’s lost Cas too many times, but he finally has him, and he’s not gonna fucking let go.

He captures Cas’s lips in a heated kiss, groaning at the taste of his tongue. His movements are sloppy; it’s definitely not his best work, but he doesn’t give a damn. He doesn’t give a damn about anything except this, here, that Cas is in his hands, moaning under the feeling of Dean’s kiss. That’s all he wants to think about.

Relinquishing his grip on Cas’s face, he works his hands between them to loosen that ever-present blue tie, yanking it away to let it flutter to the floor. He pulls back enough to look at Cas’s face as his fingers work at the buttons of his shirt. Cas is breathless, his lips red from Dean’s kiss, and his pupils blown. Fuck, Dean’s never seen anything so stunning.

When he gets the shirt open, he takes a breath and runs his hands up Cas’s stomach, over his chest, pushing the shirt from his shoulders. There’s only been a few occasions over the years in which Dean has seen Cas shirtless, but to have him so close, and be allowed to touch him… it’s a whole different playing field. One he never wants to leave. “You sure about this, Cas?” His voice is strained, rough, and quiet -- full of emotion and desperation he’s never felt before.

Cas lifts his hands, pushing Dean’s open flannel from his shoulders. He smirks as it falls to the floor and slips his hands under Dean’s t-shirt. “I have never been more sure of anything, Dean, as I am of this. Of you.”

It’s all the confirmation Dean needs. He dives in for a hard, heated kiss, pulling away only long enough to yank his t-shirt over his head. The feeling of Cas’s skin against his own sets him on fire, and for the first time, he feels alive. Putting an end to Chuck and his story had been a relief, but this… This is something else. This is what he’s been searching for his whole life. Kill after kill, conquest after conquest… it’s never made him feel like this.

He hastily and clumsily toes out of his boots; Cas follows with his shoes, and Dean pushes him back to the bed. The frame groans beneath the weight of two grown men atop it, but Dean pays it no mind. There’s not a single part of this that can deny he hasn’t thought of this before; hasn’t fantasized about it in the shower a time or two or ten. He’s not as graceful or suave as he’d like to be, but again… it doesn’t matter, because it’s Cas. Finally, it’s Cas.

The rest of their clothes are shed hastily, falling forgotten to the cold cement floor. They move together until they break, and Dean huffs a laugh when the lamp on his desk flickers. Closing his eyes, he drops his head, pressing a warm kiss to the hollow of Cas’s throat. Cas tips his head and Dean looks up to see him smiling.

“What?” Dean shifts to settle beside Cas, laying on his side. He props his head against his hand, his free hand smoothing over Cas’s chest before it stills.

“I’m just--”

“Happy?”

Cas covers Dean’s hand with his own and shifts to turn his head toward Dean. “Yes. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Yeah,” Dean huffs, his eyes dragging over Cas’s face. “Me, neither.”

Dean falls asleep that night with his chest pressed flush to Cas’s back, his arm wrapped firmly around the angel. He knows Cas doesn’t need to sleep, but he’s grateful for the pretense. Because he craves the intimacy, the normalcy, the pure elation he feels in getting to hold Cas in his arms after… well, everything.

+

Dean wakes in a panic. “No, no, no, no!” His breathing is heavy and labored, the sheets clinging to his sweat-damp skin. He’s sprawled on his back, and his hand is pressed to his chest as he sits up; his heart racing. “Cas!”

Cas’s hand settles on his shoulder, and when Dean turns, the other grasps his jaw. “I’m here, Dean. What’s the matter?”

Swallowing as he heaves a breath to calm himself, Dean closes his eyes and leans in to press his forehead to Cas’s. He lifts his hands, pushing his fingers into Cas’s hair. “Had a dream you were still gone. Fuckin’ nightmare. Sam ‘n’ I just… didn’t care. Didn’t try to bring you back.” He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cas wipes away his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Dean. It was a dream. I’m here. It’s alright.”

“It felt so fuckin’ real.”

“I’m real. You and me, this. Us. This is real,” Cas whispers.

Dean kisses him, desperate to anchor himself in Cas. In his words, his kiss, his touch, in this. The dream had terrified him; the idea that there could be a world without Cas in which Dean wouldn't care. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Every time… every single time he’d lost Cas over the years, he was broken. Every time, he’d wanted to welcome death, himself. Because the pain was nearly unbearable. Life without Cas was Hell on earth for Dean, and he’s been to Hell a few too many times. He never wants to go back. The next time Dean dies; the next time Cas dies, it better be together, only to find each other in the afterlife.

Because life without Cas is Hell, but he knows the only Heaven he’ll be sent to; the only one he wants is one in which he’s with his angel. Until then, he’ll hold on for dear life yo the time he has with him now… to the life they’ve finally been afforded together.

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas #deancas fic #deancas fanfic #deancas fanfiction #dean loves cas #cas loves dean #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #supernatural fanfic #dean x castiel #dean x cas #otp: i need you #otp: i love you #otp: a more profound bond #otp: profound bond #angst and comfort #angst and smut #it's true love #my writing #britty writes stuff

[ellewritesathing]

Faking It - Epilogue

Summary: You’d done plenty of dumb things in your life, but the dumbest had to be picking Greendale’s latest bad-boy to pretend to be your boyfriend.

Masterlist Part 6 | Epilogue

Word-count: 2.3k+

A/N: okay so about a million years ago @corishirogane3​ sent me the cutest headcanon for this series and i had to make it canon. i’ve rewritten the ending so much that i’m not sure how i feel about it anymore but!! i wanted to post this sugary sweet ending after my finals so 💕💕 i hope you guys like it

Caliban hated birthdays. His mother would always try her hardest to make each year better than the last, with more outrageous parties in the hopes that he would forget he was a bastard whose father cared more about his reputation than his son. It never worked. 

Kinkle: Happy Bday man! You’re still an asshole but I’m glad we’re friends again

As if his childhood confusion wasn’t hard enough, Caliban’s teenage angst almost burned everything to the ground. He was angry at his family for abandoning him and his mother, at the people around him for being conceited and boring, and at California for being too goddamn sunny. 

Theo: happy birthday to my gay awakening 💕

Birthdays made Caliban infinitely aware of his precarious loneliness in the world. He’d stopped telling people when his birthday was long ago, but somehow they’d find out and ruin his plans to spend the day alone and screaming at the sky. Year after year, it was just the same hollow wishes from people who didn’t really care about him.

Rosalind ✨: happy birthday old man. i got you a haunted portrait so you don’t wrinkle 

But this year was different. Caliban still wasn’t sold on the perfect greeting card birthday, but he’d been less angry since moving back to Greendale. Dating you - real or not - meant he got a group of friends as part of the deal, and the lot of you had extorted his birthday to draw up his astral chart. Apparently, he was an Aries sun, Capricorn moon - whatever the fuck that meant.

Sabrina: Happy Birthday Cal 💞

Still, Caliban could move across the country and collect as many friends as he liked, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever enjoy his birthday. 

With a sigh, Caliban threw off his covers and padded across to his closet. He pulled out his usual dark clothes and scrounged around for his leather jacket before realizing he’d loaned it to you. He smiled to himself and set to make himself presentable. 

This first hour of his birthday was always spent alone. It was one of the many birthday traditions he and Isobel shared, along with birthday pancakes, ditching the last half of school, and triple chocolate cake with Sour Patch Kids stuck to the icing. He was thankful for all the things his mother did for him, but that first dose of silence and solitude was crucial if he was going to deal with all the birthday bullshit that lay ahead.

Caliban’s phone dinged with yet another notification and he stopped in the middle of the hallway to dig his phone out of his pants pocket. Sure, Caliban talked a big game about hating birthdays but he still checked every text he got, hoping for ... something. 

Fitch: Happy non-birthday to the best not fake boyfriend I’ve ever had ❤️ I love you and I’ll see you soon

He always read the texts, but he almost never responded. He leaned against one of the door frames and started typing something in the way of a reply. The only problem was that Caliban was only gifted in the way of words when he was lying, and he never wanted to lie to you. Caliban sighed and locked his phone without sending anything. He’d figure out what to say once his stomach was full of pancakes.

Expecting to come downstairs to the low hum of Isobel singing along to music, the smells of cinnamon, sugar, and melted chocolate, and one very messy kitchen, Caliban was surprised when he reached the bottom stair and heard your voice. Everything else was as expected, but you stood out among all the chaos.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly. 

Isobel stopped her humming for a second. “Oh, yeah! That’s perfect, sweetheart.”

The pancake batter sizzled in the pan and Caliban decided to brave the kitchen. It was still as messy as always, but there you stood, clad in a borrowed, sunflowered apron and brandishing a spatula. 

Since you and Isobel were whispering and watching the pancakes rise with your back turned to the entrance, Caliban walked over as quietly as he could and got a better look at the assortment of toppings on the counter. He'd just bitten into one of the strawberries when you turned to grab something off the counter. 

You jumped sky-high and Caliban laughed. “Jesus. How long have you been there?” you asked.

“Long enough.” Caliban tried to sound nonchalant, which was difficult to do with all his curiosity. His cool facade was also ruined by Isobel rushing around the island to hug him and kiss his cheeks. 

Isobel settled slightly after sitting Caliban down on one of the stools and promising to be right back with his present. 

With your new-found solitude, Caliban turned to with an amused smile. “When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant quite so soon,” he said. He reached for another strawberry. 

You were happy to have caught him off-guard. “That’s kind of the point of a surprise.” You turned back to the stove to keep the pancake from burning but looked over your shoulder to add, “I mean, I can leave if it’s a problem?”

“You would deprive me of your company on my birthday?” 

You set a plate in front of Caliban that had a single, oddly shaped chocolate-chip pancake. “I'd never dream of it, Abercrombie.” You took a step back, pulled out a knife and fork, and set it in front of him. “Tell me how it tastes?” 

Caliban cut a piece and held his fork out to you. 

“No way. That’s your birthday pancake.” 

“You would really make me beg on my birthday?” 

“You can’t play that card the whole day-” 

“Yes, I can. Because it’s my-” 

“Don’t say it-”

The word was on the tip of his tongue, but Caliban didn’t get the chance to play his birthday card another time because Isobel rushed back into the room holding a wrapped present and grinning wildly. 

Isobel set the present down on the stool next to Caliban and tapped the top. “I know you don’t like opening them in front of anyone, but I couldn’t wait.” She tapped the gift again before reaching out and squeezing his hand. “Happy birthday, my love.” 

“Thanks, Mom,” Caliban said in a low voice. Isobel gave him the sad smile she always did on his birthday and he gave her the matching smile he always did. 

Your voice broke both of them out of their birthday stupor. “Well, I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late.” You untied the knot behind your back as you spoke before lifting the apron over your head. “I just wanted to stop by to steal a few legendary birthday pancakes and drop off the scavenger hunt stuff.” 

“I’m sorry, would you repeat that?” Caliban asked, sounding as saintly as he could. 

Isobel laughed. “Your brilliant girlfriend figured out how to give you a special birthday while letting you spend the whole day by yourself.” She wrapped an arm around Caliban’s shoulders and looked over at you. “There are clues and activities all over town and you can only come back once you’ve finished them all.” 

As intriguing as a day spent on his own seemed, Caliban couldn’t help but feel like there was a catch coming. “And what about my daily need for education?” 

“I thought you were a fan of more alternate education,” you teased. You leaned over and ate another bite of pancake. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft in your old age.” 

Caliban gave a short laugh. “I said no such thing.” 

You smiled. “Your mom promised to give you the first clue after your first pancake stack. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

Caliban nodded, suddenly unsure of how to respond. He was bad at receiving gifts at the best of times, and this gift was personal and bestowed upon him in front of his mother. It was an awkward set of circumstances. “Thank you,” he said softly as he hugged you goodbye. 

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek and disappeared out of the kitchen after waving goodbye to Isobel. 

Once you were gone and Caliban was left with the familiar sounds and smells of the morning of his birthday, he began to think that maybe his opinion on birthdays needed a bit of changing. 

--- 

Though he’d only participated in a few scavenger hunts, Caliban was competitive and he was relentless. He tore through clue after clue in the same ravenous fashion that a pack of wolves would their next meal, though he tried to savor it as best his hunger would allow. Every handwritten clue was kept, every souvenir pocketed, and every moment memorized. He didn’t want to waste the most thoughtful gift he’d ever been given just because he was an impatient bastard. 

But, as he stared at his suspiciously dark house, he wondered if he should have taken it a bit slower. The last clue had hinted at something waiting for him at the house, and his desire to finish the scavenger hunt waged war on his hatred of birthday parties. He was just about to put the car in reverse and dart into the street when your head popped around a curtain. You ducked inside at such a speed when your eyes met his that Caliban laughed at the mental image of you crashing into a lamp and trying to play it off. 

In the end, neither his desire nor hatred lured him into the depths of his birthday party. His bizarre inclination to do anything and everything you wanted drew him in.

So, Caliban showed up at his party. He wore a party hat, played nice with the other kids, and blew out the candles on his cake. All in all, it should have been the perfect end to his perfect day. But even with all your careful planning, there was no accounting for the bullshit hole in Caliban’s chest that always left him feeling empty. 

When the hole in his chest got too big, Caliban sneaked up the stairs, ducked into his room, and slipped out the window. He wasn’t running away - though the thought did cross his mind - but he just needed some fresh air. Harvey’s laughter mingled with that of his other friends and the laugh tracks of bad movies, drifting through the open window to the warmth of the April night. Still, there wasn’t enough fresh air in the world to fix him. 

“Hey!” 

Caliban twisted around to see you popping your head out of his bedroom window. You had a silly grin on your face and your hair was falling all over your face. The hole in Caliban’s chest got a little smaller. Your smile softened as you tilted your head to mirror his. 

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” 

“Aren’t you worried about missing the party?” Caliban asked. 

You shrugged. “Roz and Theo ate all the good snacks so it’s pretty lame anyway.” Caliban laughed and you flashed him another smile. “Come on, Abercrombie, you really gonna make me climb on the roof to come get you?”

Caliban let out a long whistle and adjusted to get a better look at you. “I’d like to see you try, but careful - it’s slippery out here.” 

“Stop being an asshole and let’s get out of here before someone notices we’re gone.” 

Grinning, Caliban rolled over and held a hand out to you. There was no need to be so secretive, really, but sneaking down his mother’s carefully cultivated trellis was half the fun. Caliban squashed some hydrangeas on the way down, you tumbled into him after getting your foot stuck, and the two of you were left breathless for a moment before rushing to the car so no one would discover your attempted prison break.

Giddy as you turned onto the freeway, the two of you laughed with the windows down and music blaring. Caliban didn’t think his birthday could get any better than it already was, but that moment with you was his favorite part. Or at least, it was until you started complaining about wasting away and you pulled into a diner for something to eat - then he found a new favorite moment. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“You know what.” You tilted your head. “Is this because of the fry thing? I’m telling you, if you just try it then you’ll like it.”

Caliban laughed and shook his head at ‘the fry thing,’ also known as your insistence to dip your fries in whatever milkshake you had on the day. “I’m not trying it.”

“You’re a coward.”

“You can’t say that to me. It’s my birthday.” 

“You hate birthdays.” 

“Still.” 

Rolling your eyes, you pushed the plate of fries over to him. “Try it once, okay? And you’ll see it’s the perfect combination of salty and sweet, hot and cold, yummy and delicious.” 

Caliban couldn’t help it. He’d been putting it off for almost a year now, and it just didn’t feel right to say no to you after everything you’d done for him today. Plus, you were cute when you got your way. So, he reached out and dipped a fry in the milkshake. 

Annoyingly, it was everything you’d said and more. Despite the sugary, fried high he was bound to be on in a few minutes, Caliban knew the best part of this whole endeavor would be to see your sickeningly smug face when he admitted defeat. 

You’d turned him into a cheesy cliche. He was disgustingly romantic, he carried your books between classes, and had your coffee order memorized. Because you were the sweet to his salty, the brave to his reckless, the Fitch to his Abercrombie. 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tagged: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e​  @miss--moose  @marrypuffsstuff​  @harryscarolinaa​  @igorsbby​  @foji2000​​  @hxlalokidottir​  @artaxerxesthegreat​​  @thxmagic​  @strawberriesandknives​​  @xealia​​  @hotmessindisguise​  @acciomaximoff​  @reheated-coffee​​  @shelby-x​​  @perseny-blog​​  @millie-753​​  @luneerius​​  @shizzybarnaclee​​  @lettherebelovex​​  @throughparisallthroughrome​  @ietss​  @thebookwormlife​  @mechanicalanimalz​  @mariamermaid​  @nqbmf​  @caliban-is-my-girl  @shephard17895​  @andie-kathleen​  @clockworks-world-to-fandoms​  @luquincy  @marina468​  @olivia-west-allen  @drrramaaaqweeen​  @roxytheimmortal​  @blondeeee-e  @piensa-bonito

#caos #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #Faking it #Caliban

[darkisrising]

Five Times, by DarkIsRising, pt 3(pt2)

parts 1&2 on ao3 (now with a shiny new title!) part 3 (pt1) here

So this part is nsfw/explicit. Just FYI

Five Times Din and Luke Met (and one time they never parted)

The alley leads to a street and then they are passing through another alley.

When they finally emerge they are in a part of Mos Eisley that Luke has seldom been in. Here there is a thrum of danger in the air and a spill of blood in the sand. 

Even at high noon there are drunks staggering about, the flash of blaster fire settling scores, and sex workers plying their wares from shaded alcoves.

Luke isn’t afraid to have been brought here, not when he is more than capable of defending himself, but he is surprised. They stop at a door and Luke can read from the sign posted on it in seven different languages that it’s the sort of place that rents by the hour. There is a Zabrak working the front desk behind a blaster-proof shield. His horned head doesn’t so much as raise from the holodrama he’s watching as he growls out: “Rates are on the wall.”

Oh, kark. This is really happening.

“I can— “ Luke starts, reaching toward his belt but is stopped by a gloved hand in his wrist.

“Save your money,” the Madalorian says, voice even as it ever is. If his feelings are rolling through him in a dizzying blob of want and nerves and shock and anticipation like Luke’s are he certainly doesn’t sound like it. “I’ll take care of it. I’m about to come into some credits soon.”

Luke’s laugh comes out airy, high, and maybe with a touch of hysteria. It only makes this whole situation more unbelievable—more ridiculous and mind blowing and exciting—that his own bounty is going to be paying for…. Well. Whatever it is that they are going to be doing here. Together.

The Mandalorian lays out a handful of coin with a clack and then also points to a barrier and a packet of lube in a display behind the desk, right next to the tiny sewing kits and the individually wrapped bacta plasters.

“Have fun,” the Zabark deadpans as he powers down the shield enough to pass over the stuff. His yellow eyes barely flicker to Luke before he’s drawn back to his holodrama. Still it’s enough for Luke’s cheeks to ignite in a blush that threatens to turn supernova.

But then there’s a gloved hand on his shoulder pushing him through the hall to a room that he opens with a swipe card and all the blood that had been warming his face spills into his belly.

“So, what should I call you?” Luke asks through a mouth gone dry at the sound of the door to their rented room whooshing shut.

“Mando works.”

And Luke doesn’t know what he was expecting, exactly, but somehow he’s disappointed. But then the Mandalorian—Mando—brings his hands up and the breath dissolves in Luke’s lungs so fast it’s like he’s been spaced as the beskar on one of Mando’s forearms is stripped away by a capable hand. Once that’s done Mando works a black and tan glove off to reveal the pale skin of fingers that may very well have lived a lifetime hidden away behind leather.

Luke’s chin is caught between two fingers that are soft and human. His face is tilted up to meet his own reflection in the sharp lines of a silver helmet. A thumb strokes the dimple in his chin and he can’t see Mando’s eyes but he knows he’s being examined. Probably taking in the blue of Luke’s eyes because, really, that is the most remarkable thing about his face and so that’s usually where moments like this go.

“Pretty,” Mando finally says and it’s not quite a compliment, more like he’s stating a fact. The thumb moves up to rest against Luke’s bottom lip, which is as close to a kiss as they are likely to share, so Luke decides to make the most of it.

Opening his mouth, Luke takes Mando’s thumb into his mouth. He can taste traces of leather and the faintest tang of sweat when he swirls his tongue around the warm press of it. He can taste it even better when he sucks sharply, letting his cheeks hollow, and when Mando pulls his hand away he lets it go with a wet pop.

“Well, Mando,” Luke says with a brash smile, the one that can make even Han go pale over what fresh disaster Luke is about to get himself involved in. “How do you want to do this?”

“Take off your clothes. Get on the bed.”

There is absolutely no reason those dispassionate words, warped and clipped by a voice mod, should be as sexy as they are, and yet Luke is punched in the solar plexus by what they do to him. Mando turns away to slide the disruptor rifle he’s been wearing strapped to his back off his shoulder and leans it against the wall before removing the rest of his weaponry.

Maybe not all of his weaponry, since Luke has no idea how many the other man is wearing, but there is an arsenal accumulating steadily on the wobbly, three-legged side table. By comparison the single lightsaber that hangs from Luke’s belt is almost laughable, but he takes off his poncho and sets it carefully in the folds where Mando won't be able to see it on the off chance he is some kind of expert on the weapons of nearly-extinct sects of galactic protectors.

The rest of Luke’s clothes come off quickly, and it must say something about his eagerness that Luke is naked while Mando is still finding more weapons to remove. Sitting on the edge of the bed he waits, trying not to swing his legs impatiently.

“Here,” Mando says, tossing the foil-edged lube packet without so much as looking in his direction. Luke catches it easily. “Open yourself up.”

Mando turns back to his pile of weapons and Luke tries to wait him out, but the bounty hunter isn’t paying him any attention. Instead he fiddles with some armor and looks for all the world like there isn’t a naked man perched on a cheap motel mattress, waiting for him.

“Do you even want to do this?” Luke asks, curious.

“Why?” Mando counters. “Second thoughts?”

“No,” Luke says quickly. “Not at all, I’m just confused, I guess.”

The sigh that Mando gives is loud enough to be picked up by his helmet’s modulator, which tells Luke quite a bit about the severity of that particular emotion. “I just don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

“Oh,” Luke says. He gives himself a moment to take that in, to rearrange what he’d thought he’d known about the bounty hunter with the man that is actually in front of him, and winds up the other side of it with a smile. “Then, since it seems like I’m the one that’s done this the most between the two of us, let me tell you that instead of standing all the way across the room it’s way more fun if you actually get close to the guy you’re planning on fucking.”

At the word fucking Mando’s head snaps up.

Luke tears the lube packet open with his teeth and squeezes the slick out onto the fingers of his left hand as he leans back.

“Come here,” Luke says, propping a foot onto the bed, tilting his pelvis to make sure that Mando has a good view before he starts to push his fingers inside of himself. “I want you to see what’s going to be yours—and only yours—for the next hour.”

Mando keeps most of his armor on, but Luke doesn’t mind. It’s kind of hot, to be naked against all that beskar, even if it is easier to see the dents from repelled blaster fire and the places where russet paint has started flaking away when he’s got his legs thrown over Mando’s shoulders.

By the time Mando comes Luke is on his elbows and knees, still trembling through the aftershocks of his own orgasm. If the Mandalorian makes a sound, it’s too soft to filter through his helmet. He does go still, though, and Luke braces himself for Mando to withdraw but instead he stays where he is, their bodies joined even as his hardness starts to fade away.

The press of steel between Luke’s shoulder blades is so unexpected it makes him gasp. His skin prickles in goosebumps as the warmth of it is greeted by the chill of Mando’s helmet. There’s something vulnerable about Mando in that moment, and Luke can feel his heart flip over strangely. He’s got a hand pressed to Luke’s hip and Luke shifts, balancing carefully, until he can reach back with his own gloved hand to touch it.

“You okay?” Luke asks, softly, like he’s afraid of startling the guy away.

“Yeah,” comes the reply. “Just give me a minute.”

He feels a little ridiculous telling him “Take your time” in this position, but Luke does mean it and maybe Mando can hear some of that in his voice because he stays put.

It’s only when a staticky comm turns on and the growling, bored voice of the Zabrak at the front desk warns that they only have ten minutes left or else they’ll have to pay for another full hour whether they use it or not, that he pulls out.

“Thanks,” Mando says at last into the quiet once they’ve both pulled their things back on: Mando his weapons and Luke his clothes.

“No problem. You seem—” Sad, Luke thinks. Lonely, but they don’t know each other well enough for Luke to say either of those things. “Tired.”

“Yeah. I guess I am. Okay, Skywalker,” Mando says, drawing himself up and squaring off his shoulders. He unclips a pair of cuffs from where they are hanging off his newly buckled belt. “Your choice. I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.”

Luke can’t help it. He laughs.

“I like that one,” he says as the durasteel closes tight around his wrists. “You should use it more often.”

Peli is probably going to kill him, for letting himself get picked up by a bounty hunter, again, and leaving his X-Wing in her hangar, again, but he can’t seem to worry about that right now.

Instead, Luke lets himself be led back to Mando’s ship. No one in Mos Eisley gives so much as a second glance to the Mandalorian bounty hunter and his bound quarry. Once inside the ship, Luke even steps into the carbonite chamber on his own with no pushing required.

It feels like the least he can do. The Mandalorian really does seem tired.

#spicy #dinluke #dinluke fic #darkisrising fic

[glenncoco4]

War Zone Ch. 6

A/N: Part of this story may sound familar to you guys. 😂

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present

He steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered, as he pulls the towel off his head, his jaw immediately dropping at the sight before him. Standing across the room in a figure hugging black dress that excentuates her bump and her larger breast is his gorgeous wife. “Wow, maybe we should just order in and…do stuff.”

She can’t help the implication at his words as he comes up behind her, his lips immediately finding the hollow of her neck. “There’ll be plenty of time for that tonight but we have to go.”

He sighs, his chin finding its place on her shoulder as his eyes lock with hers in the mirror.“Seriously, who gets married on New Years?”

“I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s just as stubborn as I am.”

“You Blye women always get your way.”

Her eyes light up, as she turns around in his arms, her semi-protruding belly pressed between them. She leans in, closing the distance between their lips unable to wipe the smile off her face. “Yes. Yes we do.”

XXXX

December 31, 2008

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The Chief Petty Officer’s smile quickly fades as her team celebrates around her. Being separated from her husband for over 3 weeks now is effecting her in a way that she didn’t see coming. Stepping out of the tent, Kensi makes her way over towards her bunker, the sinking feeling of not being with him starts taking over. 2 weeks after the explosion she was sent back into the field. Marty had also gotten his new assignment, sadly in Kuwait, so they had 14 days really to take in that newly wedded bliss before coming back to the hot desert, but even then, those days were spent recovering from their injuries. 

She steps into the dark room, only the generator light a few yards away projecting enough light to illuminate the entrance and a bag that wasn’t there before. The air around her makes the blood immediately drain from her face...she’s not alone. Her hand finds the gun in her waistband as she slowly draws it out, keeping her eyes focused as her other hand reaches for the lamp switch. 

As the small light illuminates the room, her goes wide as the door shuts behind her. Sitting at her desk chair, facing her is that golden mop of hair with the grin that she’s missed so much spread across his face. 

“Kinky.”

She’s at a loss for words, but that doesn’t stop her from sitting her gun on the table and launching herself towards him, her lips smashing into his.“What are you doing here?”

He pulls back just enough to get a full glimpse of those mismatched chocolate orbs that he’s missed so much. God he loves her. “I just got my new assignment.”

“And?”

“I’ll be following team 2.”

A mixture of shock and disbelief crosses her features, afraid that this is all a dream she can’t help but ask anyway.“Really?”

“Yeah. Apparently there’s this really badass, up and coming Chief Petty Officer that my boss wants to do a story on.”

Standing up from her place on his lap, she walks towards the door, making sure it’s locked and secure before turning around, her eyes focused solely on him as she begins to shed her clothes. “Lucky for you I have the inside scoop.”

He’s unable to wipe the grin from his face as she closes the distance between them once again, this time straddling his lap as his cock throbs with desire.“Lucky me.”

XXXX

Present

Their bodies sway with the music as they make their way across the makeshift dance floor. His lips find the crown of her head just as a breeze comes in off the Pacific, introducing an intoxicating scent of lavender and ocean air to his nose. 

She’s been waiting for them to get a moment alone together tonight, what with Talia, Sam and the rest of their family running around, interrupting them at any giving moment. Noticing that they’re all preoccupied at the moment, Kensi finally sees her chance. “So I have some news.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I was just talking to Sam’s friend Noah’s partner, she’s a Producer for this new crime show that’s being developed and they’re looking for a double/stunt person for one of the main characters.”

“And she asked you?”

She tilts her head back, her eyes locking with his, unable to stop the tears in her eyes at the hopefulness in his cerulean blues. Always so damn supportive. “Sam told her about me and how I have all the right training and looking for a new career to start after the baby comes, since I retired.”

“You told her yes, right?”

“I told her yes.”

He hugs her tight, as much as her protruding belly will let him and lifts her up. “Kens, that’s amazing!”

XXXX

January 1, 2009 - Early Morning

They both let out one more moan before he roles over onto his side, both trying to catch their breath.“So you never told me.”

“Never told you what?” The small light coming from the lamp in the corner, illuminating her curious chocolate orbs.

“If you weren’t a SEAL, what would you want to do?”

“Don’t laugh, okay?”

He nods, as he props his head against his hand. His attention solely focused on his wife. Honestly he’s not sure what to expect to come out of her mouth but he knows its gonna be good whatever it is. 

Mimicking his position, Kensi props her head against her hand, nervously biting her lip. She’s about to reveal something to him that she’s never told anyone before. The deep seeded issues she’s had from previous relationships has been weighing on her from the start of her relationship with her husband, but she has to remember that he’s different, in every aspect...he’s different. “I think I’d like to do stunt work for television and maybe film.”

“I could totally see you doing that.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. There’s no doubt in my mind that there isn’t anything that you can’t do.”

The excitement that’s shining in his cerulean blues, makes unfamiliar emotions starts to make themselves known. They’ve been together for almost a year and in that year he’s never made her feel like she doesn’t deserve all the love in the world, to be someone’s favorite person.“Stop.”

His brow furrows, confused at her reaction. “Stop, what?”

“Stop saying those things. I’m already in enough emotional distress as it is.”

Shaking his head, he brings his free hand across her naked waist, pulling her into him. He crashes his lips against hers, earning a moan from her lips. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, baby. I will never not support you. I wanna know every thing about you.”

Her lips find his once more, smiling at his words. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What would you do if you weren’t an investigative photographer?”

“I think I’d like to be a gigolo.”

She can’t hold back the cackle of laughter at his choice, even though she knows he’s just messing with her. “For real.”

“Okay, fine, a hand model.”

“Baby, seriously.” 

“Seriously?” His brow furrows, as his brain processes the question. He’s never really thought about being anything else but one idea does come to mind. “I think I’d like to be a teacher, you know, mold young minds. Maybe teach kids that there’s more of the world for them to see and how doing it through a lens magnifies just how intricate and special life around us is.”

She can’t help but be mesmerized by his words, the way his eyes light up when he’s talking about something important, just one of the reasons why she fell in love with him. 

Marty is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the dream filled gaze that his wife is giving him.“What?”

Shaking her head in awe, her nails find the scruff of his jaw as she gets lost in his eyes thinking about their future.“You’re gonna make a great dad one day.”

His throat goes dry at her words. He’s never really talked about his father, but she knows it wasn’t the best and the fact that those words left her lips means everything to him.“You have no idea how much that means to hear you say that.”

A playful spark shines in her eyes along with a smirk starting to curl at her lips. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

He nods his head, unable to stop the smile from spreading to his face. The look on her face does things to him that nothing ever has before. Quickly making his desire into action, he flips her on her back, straddling her. “Yes, and you’re the father.”

“I thought you said you were on the pill?”

“Yeah, Flintstone vitamins.” The same spark is in her eye as she lets out a belly laugh before her hand reaches for his neck, pulling him towards her. His lips meet hers hungrily as round 2 quickly begins.

XXXX

Present

The band continues to play a soft melody as the party starts to die down, she’s wrapped in his arms, relishing in this content moment with her husband. The cool ocean breeze coming off the Pacific sends her in a trance, thinking about their future and the little bean growing inside her. Being able to go through all of this with her best friend is something she never imagined until she met him. Tilting her head back, she smiles as her eyes meet his. 

“You look like you could use a nice long soak in a jacuzzi tub.”

“To bad we don’t have one at home.”

A knowing grin spreads to his lips. “Yeah, but the one in our hotel room does.”

“What did you do?”

“I may have booked us a room at the hotel next door.”

She can feel the heat pool in her belly as the look of unadulterated love shines in his eyes. “What are we still doing here?”

He can feel the warmth spread through his body as he watches her eyes grow a shade darker. Quickly taking hold of her hand, he pulls her along as they make a quick exit from the crowd, hurriedly making their way out of the reception.

XXXX

She laughs as her husband tries to maneuver them through the doorway, adamant that he carries across the threshold her bridal style. “Baby, I’m too heavy, put me down.”

He shakes his head, as he carries her into the room and towards their king size bed. “You, my beautiful wife are not heavy.” Gently sitting her down, his lips find hers as his hand cups her jaw. “Besides, what happens if you go into labor and can’t walk? I need to build up my strength.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be  able to walk?”

“I don’t know.”

Taking is short answer for what it his, Kensi pulls at his tie, coaxing him towards her. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” His words are followed by action, as his hand makes its way under the hem of her dress. She moans against his lips in appreciation before he pulls back, his eyes staring at her with reverence and all consuming love. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Are you trying to make me cry?”

“I mean I guess it would really depend. If it’s to hurt you, definitely not. If its to make you laugh, abso-“

She smiles as he continues to babble, no matter how much she denies it, listening to him just talk and talk is probably one of the most soothing things to her. But right now she really needs his hand to continue to do what it was doing along with his mouth. “Marty?”

“Huh?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“You’re the boss.” His hand makes its way further under the hem of her dress, as his fingers inch their way up her thigh and come into contact with soaked lace.

He pushes the material to the side, his fingers finding her wet folds, making her scream out in pleasure. “Marty!”

One thing that he knows will never get old is this...his beautiful wife screaming out his name, writhing beneath his touch. His tongue fights hers as her hand works its way beneath his briefs and finds his throbbing cock. “God, Kens.”

“Baby, more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Quickly standing up from the bed, he strips his pants and boxers from his body with no time to remove his shirt before she’s hiking her dress around her waist and on all fours in front of him, flaunting her wet folds.

As she situates herself on the pillows, he pumps his cock a few times before coming up behind her and sliding his hard member into her creamy, wet opening.

They both moan out in ecstasy as he pounds into her over and over again, the feeling of every bump and groove of his cock sliding against her in all the right places. It only takes a minute before they’re both creeping over the edge, screaming out the other’s name. They’re sent into oblivion as she matches his even faster pace before letting out one final moan.

Slowly pulling out of her, he finds his place next to her on the bed where she’s now laying flat on her back, panting as she tries to catch her breath. “Happy New Year, baby.”

“Happy New Year, Princess.” He turns his head, mesmerized by the glow of her skin and...her, before scooting in closer, bringing his lips to hers.

Her head finds his chest, the cotton of his dress shirt dampened by their latest activities. She starts toying with a button, lost in thought at the officality of this year and all it will bring. “Can you believe that time next year, there’ll be three of us?”

He places a kiss to the top of her head unable to hide the smile on his face. “Pretty great huh?”

“Yeah, but you know what else would be pretty great?” She tilts her head back, locking eyes with him knowing that he can already read her thoughts. 

“Bubble bath and cheesecake for two?”

She doesn’t respond, instead she takes action. Slowly standing up off the bed, she pulls her sun dress up and over her head, revealing her very much larger breast to her husband. His eyes immediately going wide as she sensually walks towards the bathroom where their next adventure awaits.  “Don’t forget the cheesecake.” 

#Densi #Densi AU #Kensi Blye Deeks #Marty Deeks #War Zone #NCIS: LA #AU

[starlight-writes-stuff]

hello, can i do one of the song request things you wrote about a bit ago? she/her pronouns, with dream, and based on the song 'daisies' by ryan caraveo? also, if you're doing an anon list, can i be 🧿 anon?

welcome 🧿 anon ! i just have to say ,,,,,, this song is immaculate ?? so good ?? will be added to my playlist ?? the concept of this song works perfectly for a fic - i love it so much . thank u for requesting and i really hope u enjoy ((((:

daisies - ryan caraveo

AYO LOOK AT THESE : 2.3k wc , so much fluff ur gonna puke , but nothing other than that . reblogs are always appreciated ! <3

xoxoxo , starlight 

☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁

she earned her grades and i finessed mine

but not so obvious, a c minus is just fine //

she planned for college, i schemed and plotted

---

her friends are pretty, my friends are goonies

but maybe it could all work out like in the movies

---

she like daisies, i'm like gloom

without my rain, she couldn't bloom

she need me, i need her, too

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

you and clay (or dream, really. everyone in his life called him that except for you; it was a nickname he couldn't seem to rid himself of) couldn’t have been more different- and yet, the sandy blonde boy had managed to work his way into your head and wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. every time he touched you, whether it was accidental or on purpose, you felt your entire body go up in hot, white flames. your nervous system seemed to light up around him; even the sound of his voice made your heart skip and stutter. when you thought about him, the world didn’t seem so dark anymore. 

when you moved to florida at the beginning of the semester, you’d made yourself a promise: no boys. no hookups, no flings, no situationships. you’d been hurt too many times, and you weren’t in the market to put yourself back out there. and then you met clay.

the two of you were dead opposites. he lovingly described himself as a stereotypical ‘teenage dirtbag’: a lowlife kid who’d struggled through school and had a shitty home life, but has somehow made it into college. he cheated on all his tests and didn’t do assignments; he’d rather skate all his problems away, surrounded by the pack of slobbering boys he called his friends. his idea of a good time was running from the cops. clay was everything that you weren't- carefree, blissfully clueless, and entirely too calm for his own good. 

your whole life you’d been the ‘good girl’: straight laced and perfectly dressed, an academic superstar and all around teachers pet. you came from a happy middle-class home, and your parents kept up with you in a family groupchat. you’d done just the right amount of  extracurriculars to rise above everyone else in your class, but not enough to make you look pretentious, and spent most of your time volunteering. on the off chance that you had an ounce of spare time, you wouldn’t be caught dead at a house party; no, no, you were practicing piano. 

your friendship made no sense, and yet, here you were.

being clay’s friend meant you were never bored. even while he was living through hell at home, he was funny and sweet and brave. he was the first to get you two into trouble and the one to talk you out of it. he was spontaneous and alive and had a good taste in music. once you started to notice the light he got in his eyes as he flew down hills on his skateboard, the way he laughed so hard his voice would dissolve into silence, or the way he would suck on his straw after getting slurpees, you couldn’t stop. then you started to notice every perfect thing about him and it only made it hurt that much worse when he would cry. you started doing anything and everything you could to protect that light in his eyes, to make sure no more tears would ever fall from them.

but you didn’t want to be clay’s friend anymore- you wanted him, in every sense of the word. you wanted all his time and attention and love and affection. you wanted to be that one that made him smile that stupid, crooked smile of his, and make him laugh until he couldn’t breathe. you wanted clay to look at you the way he looked at life- like a challenge, a puzzle that he wouldn’t stop messing with until it was solved. you wanted to call the lanky, troublemaking boy yours, to take him somewhere where he would never hurt again and love him until he wasn’t broken anymore. against all odds you had fallen for clay, hard, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to get up.

little did you know, clay was feeling the same way. 

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

it wasn’t odd for clay to just show up at your dorm. it was pretty common, really. he seemed to pop in more and more these days, sometimes with friends, sometimes without. you’d more or less been adopted by the group of boys; as far as you’d been told, they had all been friends since childhood. growing up together, the clan had earned the name ‘feral boys’- one that you didn’t want to know the backstory behind. as far as you knew, they were all loud and slightly aggressive but overall sweethearts, and they’d taken you under their wing once it had become painfully obvious that you had no other friends. again, it was an odd pairing; clay, george, alex, nick, karl and… you. but it worked, to say the least.

clay didn’t have any of the other guys with him this time, barging into your room unannounced. you’d been trying to get him to knock for forever, but none of your protests had stuck. 

“clay!” you exclaimed, throwing a pillow at him. you were sitting in your bed, typing away at a psych paper that had been plaguing you for days. “what if i had been naked?”

he fell onto your bed, shutting your laptop with one of his long arms. “then it would be my lucky day.”

scoffing, you rolled your eyes at him while you prayed that your flushed face wouldn’t betray you. his answer made blood swoosh in your temples, your heart skipping a beat before lapsing into an upbeat sort of rhythm. “yeah, sure- good to see you too. what do you need?”

the blonde boy grinned up at you. “since when do i need a reason to stop by? you like my company,” he boasted. clay wasn’t wrong; you loved every moment that he was around, even the most mundane ones. something about him made you feel more alive.

“are you working on something important?” he asked, his voice taking on an unusual sort of tone.

you lifted a brow at him- clay’s voice very rarely changed from his confident, over easy tone, so when he did, you were going to call him out. “no,” you mused, drawing the vowel out. “why? you seem weird.”

clay’s face morphed and fluctuated before he pulled a tight smile. “you really don't miss anything, do you?”

“nope,” you said brightly, transferring your laptop to the nightstand by your bed. clay was jumpier than usual, shifting his weight and repositioning himself three times before finally sitting up, leaning against your wall. he bumped his knee against yours and the slight, innocent touch sent butterflies out of your stomach, soaring into your chest.  

“clay, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice taking on an embarrassingly gentle tone. you realized that he could be having issues at home again and your heart sank- that would explain his odd demeanor. your chest flooded with affection for the boy, your heart achingly soft as you grabbed one of his hands. clay quickly turned your palm over in his, playing with your fingers as he spoke.

“i want to talk to you about something.”

you froze for half a second, swallowing hard. your throat was dry as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“okay. what’s going on?”

biting at his bottom lip, clay’s face flushed with blood. his cheeks took on a rosy sort of pink tone, and he pulled his eyes from yours as he let out a long exhale. he allowed his gaze to settle on the ceiling, tracing the pattern of the old popcorn ceiling with his pupils. 

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

you secretly loved moments like this- moments where clay was too preoccupied within his own head to realize that you were staring, studying his face. he was the kind of boy you could only describe as pretty, all high cheekbones and bright eyes framed by long, golden-brown lashes. you stayed like this for a moment longer, drinking him in; you’d be thinking of him like this for weeks. every time you got a chance to look at him like this, you added another mental painting of him to your art gallery. in some paintings, he was surrounded by soft orange light, usually sitting on a curb or the lip of a halfpipe. in others, clay was painted on soft blue tones, shadows reinforcing the hollows of his face. 

there was one common thread in all the mental works of him, though: he was never looking back at you. in your mind, clay would only ever see you as a friend- the slightly odd girl that had fallen in with him and his groupies. you truly believed that he only perceived you in small quantities- only ever seeing you when you made a rather good joke or fed him something. the rest of the time- the majority of the time you two spent together- you thought clay seemed so enamored by his own mind, or that he was was too busy doing something else to pay you any attention.

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

clay pulled his mouth to one side, face scrunching up before he dropped your hand, letting it fall on the bed.

“i’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff lately.”

you blinked, then looked back at clay, unsure of what this meant. his whole body seemed to stiffen as you looked over him- he seemed uncomfortable, which never happened. you dropped your gaze to your duvet and busied yourself with tracing over the floral pattern, your mind seemingly exploding with thousands of thoughts per second. you, for the first time in your life, felt strained around clay, and it scared you more than you’d like to quantify.

“oh. what kind of stuff? do you want to… talk about it?”

“yeah. no. not really, but i’m going to make myself do it. this thing- the thing i've been thinking about- if i don't get it out,” he said, stressing the words as if they had some sort of deeper, more intense meaning, “will just… consume me. you know?”

you did, but you weren’t sure if it was in the same way that clay was meaning. “sort of.” clay groaned and tangled his hands in his hair, tugging at the roots before letting his head fall into his palms. he made another frustrated noise then pushed himself up and off of your bed, beginning to pace.

something was glaringly wrong; clay only paced when he couldn’t release in any other way. even so, his pacing was more aggressive than usual, more stomping than stepping. clay was quickly working himself into a hole, and you were watching him spiral. you knew that he would only rile himself up more, past the point of stopping himself now. 

pushing yourself to standing, you grabbed one of clay’s wrists- his skin was hot to the touch and you could feel his heartbeat, strong and erratic, thumping under his skin. 

“clay-” 

his lips were on yours, hot and rough and needy and the slighted bit desperate as he knotted a hand in your hair, the other cupping your jaw. you froze for half a second, shock flooding your system, before kissing clay back even harder. you were entirely overwhelmed and you could feel the sharp spurs of desire cutting through your blood, replacing it with the yearning you’d been suppressing for months. his tongue tangled with yours, quenching the thirst that you’d only been adding to with an ease, and a small whimper escaped your throat. 

clay seemed to realize how hot and heavy things had become in a matter of seconds and pulled away, running a thumb over your lips as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“oh?” he asked, his usual cockiness returning with a force. you weren’t able to form words- much less piece together a whole sentence- so you settled for pressing another kiss to his lips, answering him in the only way you knew how

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

the two of you stayed like that for a while, communicating through rough, sugary sweet kisses, hands on hips and chests and necks. after you’d kissed until your lips were sore and you were both out of breath, clay had given you a concerned sort of look.

“was that too much- or too one sided?”

“what? no!”

clay had laughed at the way you’d defended yourself, peppering your face with tender pecks. “so you really do like me, huh?”

“i do. i really do, dream,” you stressed, pressing a kiss to the boys scruffy jaw.

“ew,” he groaned, hitting you with the pillow you’d thrown at him earlier that afternoon. “don’t call me that.”

“why not?”

clay had readjusted, wrapping an arm low around your waist and pulling you to his chest, looking you dead in the eyes. “you’re the only person in my life that calls me clay, you know that? and for some reason, it fits. you and me just… fit. we work. we’re so different that we fit together like a complicated sort of puzzle piece.”

your heart swelled and you looked over clay with pure adoration. “we do seem to work well together.”

“ever since you came into my life, it’s like, i can't function without you. like you’re- you complete me, in a way?”

emotion seemed to drown you, and you pressed another kiss to his lips. “the yin to your yang,” you murmured against his neck, burying  your face in his shirt. 

“i will break up with you if you say that again,” he said, laughing, but you knew it wasn’t true: your story was just beginning.

#dream #dreamwastaken #dream was taken #dreamfic #dream fic #fluff #fluffy #ask #anon #🧿 anon #request #song requests #song #blurb #fic #college au #thats it lol #love u #starlight-writes-stuff

[sorry-apsalar]

See You in a Bit Chapter 4/4: You Got to Fix Him

Fry woke up in a hospital room, a real one, not the sorry excuse for a medical facility that Zoidberg ran in the Planet Express building. He still hurt but not nearly as bad and his head was clear. An IV was in his good arm, his hand and wrist wrapped in thick bandages, his broken arm in a proper cast. And he was utterly alone. Which didn’t mean Bender hadn’t been repaired, he wasn’t exactly the type to sit at anyone’s bedside for longer than a few minutes at most. But Fry needed to know fore sure he was okay as soon as possible.

Shaking off the last dregs of sleep, he sat up and looked around. His personnel effects had been placed on the bedside table, including his wallet and phone – put on charge by a kind soul – and the bag he’d taken from Bender’s chest compartment. If Bender had been here, surely he would’ve taken it back, right? … Perhaps Fry hadn’t been out for long enough for him to have been fully repaired, probably, right? He’d been pretty beat up so it made sense that it’d take a while to have him up and running again.

Fry gingerly grabbed his phone off the table and turned it on. After some consideration, he quick dialed Leela’s number; if Bender wasn’t fully fixed yet, his number wouldn’t work and Farnsworth rarely answered his phone, especially when he was working on something. She picked up on the second ring.

“Fry! You’re awake, how do you feel?”

“Uh… better.” A lot better but that didn’t matter right now. “What about Bender? Did the Professor finish fixing him or is he still working on that?”

“The latter.”

“Oh uh… that’s fine. How much longer is it going to take?”

“I don’t know. But Fry, you know he only said he’d try, he might not be…”

“Welp, I gotta go and get checked out of the hospital and stuff. I’ll see you at the Planet Express later, if you’re there.” Fry hung up.

 -

As always getting checked out of the hospital was a pain and took longer than it really needed to but finally, he was free. He went straight back to the Planet Express building and soon as he was inside, he beelined for the Professor’s lab once more.

Farnsworth was in of course and working on something, presumably Bender. Venturing closer for a better look revealed that that was indeed the case. Bender’s body was in even worse shape than before. His head had been removed, normally not at all a difficult or violent thing to achieve it was supposed to be able to come off, but the way it had been pushed in meant the Farnsworth had had to slice up the upper part of Bender’s body to get it out. Bender’s head had been split open and hollowed out. A bunch of technology stuff that Fry had no clue what did but could only have come from Bender was spread out across the table.

Bender had been utterly and completely dismantled. A rather unsettling and unpleasant sight but one that should be only a stepping stone to him being put back together and made whole again. So, swallowing back his hesitation, Fry stepped forward again. “How’s it going? How long before he’s up and running again?”

“Hmmm… well, I don’t know. There’s no guarantee I can…”

“I’ll leave you to it then. Call me when you’re about to start him back up, okay?” Fry was likely to only get in the way and make it take longer so he quickly left.

He didn’t have anything else to do but wait so… he went to the break room. Leela, Amy, Hermes, and Zoidberg were all already in there, looking up at him as he came in with sympathetic looks.

Zoidberg was the first to speak. “Sorry about the robot. He was a good friend.”

Before Fry could reply and say that such words weren’t necessary because Bender was going to be fine, Hermes stood up. “I already took the liberty of going over his will,” he said as he strode over to Fry. “You probably won’t be surprised by what’s on it. Here is an official copy.”

He handed Fry a piece of paper. ‘BITE MY SHINY METAL ASS’ was scrawled on it in large sloppy letters. Bender had signed his full name under it in messy barely legible cursive. Which was indeed not at all surprising. It probably would’ve been funny under different circumstances.

“But as his husband,” Hermes continued, “all his stuff should by default go to you, unless he had debts that need to be paid. Come talk to me in my office later when you’re ready to fill out the paper work for it, I’ll help in any way I can.” He awkwardly patted Fry on the shoulder before going back to his seat.

Fry glared down at the paper again. “You guys don’t seem to have much faith in the Professor being able to fix him.” How dare they give in that easily? Bender was their friend too and they’d all been working for the Professor long enough to know he was capable of almost anything he put his mind to.

“Robots aren’t designed to be easily fixable once broken.” Amy made it sound as if that automatically meant that there was no hope for Bender. “Especially the models meant to work in factories and stuff like Bender. Think about it, the company makes more money if you’re forced to buy a whole new one every time one breaks instead of fixing it.”

“That… that’s really fucked up.” No wonder Bender often said stuff about hating humans if the people who’d made robots were doing shit like that.

“Yep, I guess so. But that’s just how it is.” Her expression and voice softened. “Sorry about Bender though, I know he meant a lot to you. We’ll all miss him.”

Fry should tell her and all of them that they were wrong and that Bender was going to be okay, the Professor just needed some time to do the repairs. But… but… what if they were right? What if not even Farnsworth could fix him? Fry had initially decided on this course of action as a long shot but had somehow convinced himself that it was the most likely outcome when it… actually probably wasn’t, huh? Which meant…

“I believe the Professor can fix him,” Leela said, drawing Fry’s gaze up to her. “If anyone can it’s him.”

Fry nodded, swallowing back the tears that had threatened to form at the line of thought he’d been going down. There was still hope even if it wasn’t much but it was there so no use giving up on it yet. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now come sit down and tell us what happened.” She and Amy scooted to one side of the couch, making room for him.

“Yes!” Zoidberg agreed with a bit more enthusiasm than was necessary. “Tell us about your adventure. How’d it happen?”

With a sigh, Fry awkwardly folded up the copy of Bender’s will and put it into his pocket before walking over and sitting down. “There’s uh… not really a whole lot to say. I… did something dumb and got beaten up and arrested for it, thrown in jail and stuff. They were going to execute me but then Bender broke me out. To do that he had to make the guards that were guarding the jail and stuff leave by making a big distraction somewhere else. He said he was going meet me back at the ship in like an hour but… he never showed.” Instead Fry had fallen asleep like an idiot. “So, I went looking for him and uh… found him like that. I had to drag him through the desert heat back to the ship which is why I’m all sun burnt and stuff.”

“What’d you do that go you in so much trouble?” Amy asked because one of them was bound to.

Fry could try to lie and try to make himself seem marginally less stupid but he was bad at the kind of thing. Might as well just get it over with instead of them catching him at a lie, forcing him to admit it anyway. “I… well… uh… The aliens were sentient plants. And um, turns out they sleep in little clay pots with soil in them and they look an awful lot like a standard potted plant when they do. So uh… I was sent in to see their monarch to deliver the package, only one person is allowed in to see them at a time for some reason. And uh… they were napping so I thought I was alone and… well, I really needed to pee. There weren’t any bathrooms around so a potted plant would’ve been a good place to do it, right? So I just kind of… you know… They weren’t very happy about it and ordered their guards in to beat me up and drag me to jail to be executed later.”

There was a general murmur from all four of them, even Zoidberg, that that had been exceedingly stupid. Which was a hundred percent accurate because it was probably one of the dumber things Fry had done. Probably far from the dumbest though considering the large breadth of things he’d done while working this job, sometimes with Bender or at his suggestion, that had proven to be less than smart. But this was undoubtedly the worst because it resulted in not just himself getting hurt and almost killed but Bender actually getting killed. And there was a good chance even Professor Farnsworth wouldn’t be able to bring him back to life.

“Yeah,” he said looking away from all of them. “I shouldn’t have ever insisted on leading that mission. I’m clearly not fit for anything other than following orders. And even that I’m bad at.” Why had he even been kept around for so long? He should’ve been fired ages ago.

“Well,” Leela said, “other than the whole insulting an alien race’s ruler by peeing on them while they slept which is terrible and astoundingly stupid, I think you did pretty good. You did manage to fly the ship safely back home even despite having a broken arm and burnt hand.”

“Not to mention,” Hermes added, “delirious from heat stroke, dehydration, and grief.”

“Yeah, I for sure couldn’t do that,” Amy said. “So good job on that part at least.”

“I… guess there is that, huh? The autopilot probably did most of the work though.” He didn’t even remember the flight back. His memories between finding Bender’s body and begging Farnsworth to repair him were foggy at best, he’d been quite out of it. “I did land it in the hanger without crashing though, somehow. But uh… still next time someone needs to come with us to supervise. I’m too stupid to be trusted and Bender would get us into trouble by getting caught stealing something or saying something rude to the wrong person.”

They all murmured some kind of agreement to that. Not even bothering to try to claim he wasn’t stupid because it would’ve been a lie. … Hopefully there would be a next time with Bender though.

 -

The next few weeks were probably the worst Fry had ever had to endure. Modern technology made healing fairly fast but painful and unpleasant buy hey, at least he was out of the cast and bandages in just over a week instead of however long it would’ve taken to heal without such technology. They even had a fix for sunburn so even if it still hurt like hell, it was for a shorter time. But dealing with all that paled in comparison to waiting for news about Bender, good or bad.

With every day that passed Fry became more and more sure that Bender couldn’t be repaired. And yet, until Professor Farnsworth declared he’d failed, there was still hope and thus Fry couldn’t begin to grieve properly even if he’d wanted to. All he could do was wait and hope for good news while dreading the worst.

All the while his guilt weighed on him as if he were still dragging Bender’s mutilated corpse through the desert sands. If he hadn’t gotten himself into trouble in the first place, Bender would’ve never had to break him out. If he’d just not fallen asleep while waiting for him, he might’ve been able to go out and save Bender before it was too late. Or heck, if he’d just not insisted on proving himself to be capable of leading a delivery mission every once in a while, they never would’ve ended up in that situation either. So really it was all his fault.

He didn’t dare venture into the lab to ask for an update again for fear of what he might see or be told. Instead he hung around the Planet Express building, waiting for Farnsworth to come out. He didn’t even go home other than for two lonesome awful nights because it was empty, way too quiet and had too many reminders of his life with Bender. The others expressed concern over this behaviour multiple times but he wouldn’t be able to rest properly until this was resolved one way or the other.

His guilt and growing fear that this ‘adventure’ would have a sad ending kept him up at night. Which served him well as he was lying awake on the break room couch sometime past midnight when his phone rang. Bored and lonely enough to answer even a scam call, he rolled over to grab it off the coffee table. … It was Professor Farnsworth. He almost never called so…

“Hello.” Fry tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible. The call might not have anything to do with Bender and even if it did, it might not be good news. So he shouldn’t let his hopes get too high. … He couldn’t help himself though, he wanted Bender to be alive again so bad.

“Good news Fry, I’ve finished reconstructing Bender.”

Fry froze, almost not daring to move lest it prove to be a dream and moving too much would break it. “Really?”

“Yep.” He was likely intending to say more but…

“I’ll be over right away.” Fry hung up and quickly stumbled off the couch to run to the lab.

“Oh, that was fast,” Farnsworth said, turning to fac Fry as he burst through the doors.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been sleeping on the break room couch since I got back. Where’s Bender?” Even as he asked, he got his answer.

Farnsworth had built Bender a whole new body. The design was mostly the same but sleeker and shinier, to the point of being almost reflective. Not yet powered up, he lay on the table face up.

“Since it’s impossible to purchase a blank bending unit, I had to make a whole new one,” Farnsworth said, gesturing to him. “And while I was at it, I made some improvements to the design, expensive ones mind too so you two owe me. He’s made of sturdier, lighter metals, and is far more fuel efficient. Also, he’s got…”

“Awesome cool, let’s start him up.” Fry was tired of waiting, he wanted to talk to Bender again right now. They could hear all about Bender’s shiny new improvements later.

“Yes, yes, but before we do that. While I can promise a functioning robot with Bender’s base personality code, these things weren’t exactly meant to be repaired so I had to replace a quite a few things. Where applicable I transferred as much of the data from the old damaged parts onto the new better parts. How much the corrupted data I couldn’t transfer or the parts being new and different will change things, I can’t say until he’s been up and running long enough to get some data on it.”

“So… what you’re saying is he might have amnesia?”

“Definitely not full amnesia, but partial perhaps, or he might just no longer be able to recall a handful of random events. Or something else about him may be different. I literally had to rewire his whole brain basically, it’s hard to do that while keeping everything exactly the same.”

“You tried your best though?”

“Of course.” He sounded offended by the mere suggestion he might not have. “What do you take me for? A lazy nit-wit like yourself? Never. If anyone can repair a machine’s mind that’s been damaged beyond repair, it’s me.”

“All right.” That’s all Fry could ask for and anything was better than nothing. “How do we turn him on?”

Farnsworth reached into his lab coat and pulled out a palm-sized remote. “Here.” He handed it to Fry. “You do the honors.”

The remote had two buttons on it, one that had the universal symbol for power which hadn’t changed in more than a thousand years printed on it, the other read ‘SLEEP’. Fry pressed the former.

On the table, Bender’s eyes opened, revealing that they looked same as his old ones. It was several long tense seconds that felt like forever before he moved though. “What’d you do to me?” He gave Farnsworth a suspicious stare as he slowly sat up and shifted to sit with his legs hanging over the edge of the table.

“He fixed you,” Fry answered as he stepped closer. “How do you feel?”

“‘Fixed’ me?” Bender slid off the table and shook out his limbs a little as he looked down at himself. “Ooh, I’m all shiny and sleek now. It’s like I’m brand new but… newer.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Farnsworth cut in before Fry could say anything more.

Bender paused and was silent for a few seconds before responding. “Something that I shouldn’t have survived.”

“And you didn’t. But Fry here dragged your horribly mutilated body back here and demanded I repair it. I couldn’t of course because not even I can work miracles, but I did rebuild you. Your body’s entirely new and only a small handful of your electronics are from your old system.”

Bender grimaced. “That means I died, right?”

“Yep.”

He was silent for a few seconds as he seemed to consider that. “Spooky. Well now I know what happens after you die: a whole bunch of nothing. I always suspected that priest bot was scamming people for money. Huh, but now that I’ve officially come back from the dead, I could probably do that too with even more success. Heck, I could probably start my own religion.” He chuckled evilly, rubbing his hands together.

It was good that he was taking the news of his death and revival so well and great to see him already ready to resume cheating strangers out of their money but Fry couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re okay now though right? Everything’s fine again?” It almost seemed too good to be true. And after what Farnsworth had said about maybe something being off with him, Fry almost couldn’t believe it.

Bender’s expression softened as he looked at Fry. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just came back from the dead so honestly, I’d say I’m doing pretty good. I feel a little weird but that’s it. So there’s not need to look at me like that, it’s…”

Fry hugged him. His metal body was cold and hard, not normally what one would think of as comforting but it was to him, even more so as Bender’s arms wrapped around him too. “I missed you so much. And I thought… I was worried that the Professor wouldn’t be able to bring you back for a while there and I just… I’m so glad you’re all right.”

Bender patted him on the back. “It’s good to not be dead anymore.”

Fry was crying again. From relief this time but still Bender would likely tease him for it later but right now he didn’t care, he was too exhausted and relieved to. The last however long Bender had been dead for was with a doubt the worst however long he’d ever had to endure.

“Well, I’ll be going then,” Not even Farnsworth reinserting his presence in the room was enough to get Fry to let go of Bender right now. “before you two get even more gross and sappy. I’ll fill in you about all the improvements I made to your design later when Fry’s not crying on you.”

Bender let Fry hold him uninterrupted for a while after the sound of the lab doors opening and closing announced Farnsworth’s departure. But he had only so much tolerance for such things. “All right meatbag,” he said eventually as he gently peeled Fry off of him, “we should probably head home too. You can tell me everything I missed while I was dead sometime tomorrow, okay?”

Fry nodded before wiping his eyes and nose with his jacket sleeve. “Okay. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” Bender took Fry’s hand as they started for the exit. If he was at all bothered by how tightly Fry squeezed back, he didn’t show it. Holding his hand like this was so much better, from here on out Fry would do his best to never take it or Bender in general for granted again.

Previous

#My writing #futurama #frender #Fry/Bender #grief/mourning

[the8thsphynx]

Oooh ok, I have a couple headcanons and theories for the "Arrancar Hive Mind" I wanted nerd out about. (This is so long, I'm so sorry😅)

I've always wondered how the "Arrancar Hive Mind" worked after learning about it through a post I shared. It got me thinking about how the ability would've been used and misused by the Arrancar and Azien's crew..

On the Arrancar side of things, this could've been a new ability that came from the Hōgyoku thus grabbing Azien's imagination even more, (which leads to a scientific fixation for replacing God)

The Arrancar probably used their new telepathic connection for: Staging rebellions, Betrayal amongst themselves, Interrogation, Torture, and even more dark shit because this is Bleach.

But also they could've used their telepathic connection for: Protecting their Fracción, Looking out for their comrades, sharing dreams, sharing ideas, trolling each other and even more silly shit like that, cause this is also Bleach!

Moments like...

Tres Bestias comforting Harribel after a nightmare, Starrk calling Lilynette from across Los Noches to ask for snacks,and Grimmjow running around trying to link to his Fraccións because they keep disappearing to train while he's asleep and he keeps getting the equivalent of a shit post message recording

...Silly stuff like that could've been happening, but we've been given the winner's perspective on the story.

.

.

And then we get chases like Nel and Orihime:

Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck was the former Tres Espada, but she was thrown out thanks to Nnoitora and Szayelaporro brutalizing her Fracción and getting a sneak attack on her.

The 3 of them had undergone separate forms of regression, Pesche and Dondochakka became weaker leveled arrancar and Nel became a child (sooo many theories for why that happened to her)

There's a good chance for these 3 might've been disconnected for the rest of Los Noches or have been left with a very broken connection. If it's just a bad are cracked connection, then baby Nel could've also been left with nightmares of who she used to be. With the innocence this Arrancar amnesia, I could see Nel trying to draw the faces of the "scary monsters" in her dreams. (With the brothers protective nature towards their weaken Master, getting farther away from Los Noches seems like the best option.)

When Urahara shows up with a cool new gauntlet and threads, Nelliel gets to be her original self again; though her connection with the remaining Arrancar is likely staticy compared to before. Like everyone else has clear-crisp auto and video quality but Nel's in the Alps, wifi is shiiiiit....

Then we got Orihime Inoue, being a Fullbringer, has enough hollow energy to get connected, but still being alive, probably doesn't have the strongest influence as she'd like. Azien being a sadist with a god complex, would prefer the "you have no power here" message over the "stay here and relax" approach.

If Orihime was still connected with the Arrancar after the Winter War, then Urahara could've done some meddling, (more cool gadgets) and strengthen the connection, letting her act like a psychic radio to help keep everyone in sync with strategy and the like. Orihime could've been like a super spie!! Or like the radio guy for Metal Gear Solid!!

The rest of the Fullbringers could've also been connected in temporarily, giving them more of a presence and a way to keep tabs on each other. Ichigo sort of darted all over the place in the final stretch of the Blood War Arc, so making his team Powerhouse Scouts could've given them more to do.

(Opportunities due to time and health constraints have been missed)

(sorry for the long ask. I tried to make it easier to read through) I thought way to much about this....

HI, EVERYONE PLEASE READ HER THEORY BECAUSE HOLY SHIT IT'S GOOD.

And yes, I never thought of this plot point til you brought it up.

Yeah, Orihime is a character who constantly gets her character development trashed and it gets to the point where Kubo makes it feel like he doesn't WANT to explore her...?

But I think it's right to say that she absolutely has a connection to the arrrancars. It could come from several things, and my personal take after reading your observations and headcanons is that she still technically qualifies as a Fullbringer.

The hogyoku is still a little foggy to me and I have reread it, so please correct me if I'm wrong, but it's a 'wish granter' that seems to augment someone using Hollow-like capabilities. It was in Rukia's gigai for god knows how long and the Fullbring arc muddies it up, but that's HOW Chad and Orihime got their powers.

Also when going into Hueco Mundo, Chad observed that his powers were incredibly attuned to the landscape and atmosphere (AGAIN, HE NEVER GOT ENOUGH STORY FOCUS AAAA) so I don't doubt that Orihime had a similar effect!

#ask of the sphynx #anyone is welcome to add on #bleach #bleach theory #bleach headcanon

[smndragon]

STORY IDEA

WARNING: Slight discussion of gross topics such as deformed skin and over all creepy stuff some places. I can't do the read more thing yet that I know of so yeah I'm trying please.

Uh idk but there's this short I wanna make called hair or smth where there's this boy getting dinner from the microwave and he sees a hair on the plate that's black. Keep in mind his his will be pink or blonde, something bright. "Whenever I eat." "I always see a hair on my plate" I kept putting it off as a friend's or parent's possibly, flown onto my plate somehow or something unreasonable by now (context I wanna use possibly) (I don't know if I want this to be an animation or animatic through pencil and paper) he goes on to wonder on how the hairs always end up there from the very start of taking it out of the cupboard. He gets a ladder and scoots it up to the cupboard opening the doors (view of him on the outside looking in, he's fairly short) now thinking on it I want him as an oc who sees weird things throughout life and shit. I'm totally gonna make him adopted to make more sense.

When he sees nothing at first in front of him or to the sides he looks up and sees a terrible sight.

A face staring back at him, eyes black or crazed with hair growing from pores, moles, and overgrown piles of heaping mass of flesh and skin, the mouth of the face deformed and open wide showing rotten teeth. The worst part was the fact moved, it was attracted to the cabinet board as good as glue. As if it had grown on it for years. He closes the cupboard bad throws up in the bathroom. He tells his parents only to see it gone when they check. He never eats form the plates in those boards again and moves them somewhere else.

His name is gonna be Thomas foster now done. Or Thomas banks, Forrester, or beethoven. I later decided it's now gonna be Ludwig fuhrmeister for reasons 💕

MORE ON AN ACTUAL IDEA↓

maybe something with a group of kids on a bus (this is actually a dream of mine) they plan on going to the zoo in a wide Forrest but end up taking a short trip in the wrong direction. In total there are only 4 or 5 kids because it's a private elementary school. All kids are the ages between 10-11. The arrive at a house when the bus driver points it out after realizing they're lost.

The teacher tells the kids to wait for her while she checks in and sees if she can get any help. The kids have conversations on what they wanna be when they grow up or if they'll get lost in the Forrest. Originally they planned on seeing red pandas and endangered species or some shit. The teacher walks to the bus waving bye to an unknown figure still inside of the house with what the kids assume to be a map.

When the teacher gets back the kids ask what happened to be told they were gonna take another cut to a place called "redwood clearing" or smth weird and creepy.

The main character is a kid named peter or Jeremy I prefer peter, he's 10 and a half turning soon. Hes white or Puerto Rican I can't decide. There's a little girl named violet who wears dresses and has blonde hair with a chipped tooth she's 11. Then there's harry who is white and wears glasses super young he's the youngest at just ten. There's an African American boy in the back drawing what he sees and stuff, he's 10 now. So the violet is the oldest.

They all get along somewhat well.

The kids realize the route is getting weird when the trees start looking dead. In the background the bus driver sees what seems to be a hanged person but ignores it to not draw attention.The teacher finally tells them they've shown up when she points out of one of the windows. The teacher the thanks the bus driver and gives them a resting location for until they get back. The teacher then leads them to a similar looking house walks them inside and tells them the farthest door will lead them to the zoo. The kids seems hesitant but go anyways. While they're backs are turned they hear the zipping and falling of flesh into the ground. The black kid which is now named Ryan turns to see it first. The what once was teacher was now a hollow looking person. Blac and dark red sticky liquids stuck to it's dark and leathered skin, malnourished and thin. The eyes re like sockets which could fit a golf ball. When it moves and sees him notice it tells him to be quiet bad closed his eyes. He does so for unknown reasons (classic idiots). The figure is gone by the time he opens them, the soft sound of something running up the stairs with the skin and flesh sounding against the floorboards in a disgusting way. He tells the others they should go back but since the bus is no longer there they believe they should just go since there could probably be some way out. Basically after that. Some of the kids die, them being harry and violet. They get stuck in the rooms somehow and die. The house is basically a maze of terrors. They get stuck in the rooms somehow and die. The house is basically a maze of terrors. The halls always look old. Every door they open is a chance and mystery. Encountering all kinds of scary things and shit that don't lean them anywhere closer by telling them to go back downstairs to the main hall and go through the door they were told to before. They don't trust them and keep looking elsewhere. The kids come across a girl named Hannah who got stuck in the house years ago. She seems ghostly. Her and Peter start getting closer with every door they go through. Romance yes they crushing. In the end they make it out by going to the main hall again. The black boy is almost always the brains. When they decide it's the only door left the say their prayers and tell each other stuff only stalling. When they decide it's the only door left the say their prayers and tell each other stuff only stalling. The girl confesses she can't go with them cliche stuff like she's dead and Peter can't except it. When they open the door they were supposed to at first. They walk through to see a zoo filled with animals. This whole time their friends died for nothing as the creature told the Truth afterall. The house disappears and the teacher and bus driver tell them it's time to go. Peter goes on to write a story on what happened calling it "red wood" or smth idk Ryan becomes an artist but struggles with schizophrenia. They're still friends the end. But peter also looks into Hannah's death and tries to share where she is and stuff with people, finding her family and shit. (Explaination later for harry and violet being gone is that no one seems to remember them being alive) looking more into it they show up in papers that state they died 70 or 50 years ago in a murder house incident involving serial killings and missing peoples reports)

#story ideas #original idea #book shit #idk lol

[i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle]

Chapter 26 - Starlight’s Mother, Part 2 - Why Did Firelight Keep Her A Secret?

*THUNDER BOOM*

The storm rages on, and may be even picking up further intensity. But the group outside is absolutely affixed on the sight of Starlight’s Mother. Many with their mouth agape and concerned faces, especially after she had just mentioned that she had been murdered. Talking with her is going to be perhaps one of the darkest, and most serious conversations they’ve ever been in or listened to.

Firelight’s loud scream has attracted the attention of Sunburst and his Mom, they run up while both are holding umbrellas with their magic to see what’s going on and are immediately affixed on the sight of the glowing spirit. Stellar Flare actually somewhat recognizes her, though she didn’t know that she was Starlight’s Mother.

Sunburst: Just what is going on here?!

Stellar Flare: (I… feel like I’ve seen her before… do I know her?)

*THUNDER BOOM*

Twilight: I… think it’s about time we head into Firelight’s house for shelter against the storm… then we can start talking to Sunset about… well… a lot of stuff, to be frank…

The group now joined by Sunburst and Stellar Flare head into Firelight’s house, the only one not coming in quite yet… is Firelight himself… who is still too upset about learning that his wife has been dead. He eventually does just manage to slowly pick himself up and walk into his house along with the rest.

Starlight lights the fireplace to heat up the room and help dry everypony who got soaked in the storm, as everypony shakes off the water in their manes and tails. Sunset sits in the center of the room, naturally as she’s going to be answering a lot of questions. Everypony starts to settles down, except for Firelight who still can’t help himself from being upset about the fate of his beloved wife he weeps in the corner of the room constantly as the rest of the group prepares to speak with Sunset. Starlight then gets to asking Twilight what she knows.

Starlight: Twilight, you somehow knew my mother’s name as soon as you saw her… mind telling me how?

Twilight: Of course, your mother is none other then Sunset Shimmer… Celestia’s protege before me. Celestia told me all about her for the first time after a private talk with her and Luna when I was gathering invitees to the ball.

Starlight: WHAT?! Celestia had a protege before you… and she was my mother?!

Starlight turns to the spirit of Sunset

Starlight: Is… is this true… mother?

Sunset simply nods, and Starlight finally has the epiphany she’s been waiting for her whole life.

Starlight: Oh my gosh… that’s why… that’s why I’ve had so much raw magical power! My mother happens to be the only other pony’s whom’s magic power has captured Celestia’s attention! But wait… if you’re dead... were you killed in a battle with a foe while on the job... and thus Celestia had to unfortunately find a new student?

Sunset: You’re half right… I was killed in a battle… though if it were while I was still her student, there certainly would of been a very publicized funeral... But I had actually stepped down a decent while before then… so I could eventually live with your father and raise you… When I went up to the soul shield… I was so upset that I was never going to get that chance…

Sunset starts tearing up, looks like spirits can cry too. Though a spirit’s tears is more like little sparkles that simply fade once they hit the ground.

Starlight: Mother… you stepped down from a pretty secure role… where you could of possibly became a Princess of Equestria… just so you could raise a family…? Just so you could raise… me…?

Sunset nods once again

Sunset: Most of my life, I relished my role as Celestia’s protege. I felt like I was the coolest pony around in my teenage years… taking down the bad guys… being sent on missions on behalf of the Princess… the kind of spells I was able to perform… and even the possibility of eventually reaching a major position of power one day. I loved being Equestria’s premier hero so much, I started collecting a sort of information database on all the most wanted villains to get an edge on all of them. Reading up about past ones that had a danger of coming back, ones that were on the loose at the time, and any potential new threats in the future.

But… as I got older… keeping an eye on so many criminals and evildoers also put a target on my back… it was hard to make many meaningful friends when getting too close to me would only put them in danger. And as I reached adulthood, I felt a want to escape from it all, relax, and raise a family. I met your father sometime late in my teenage years, it was generally alright to go see him because Sire’s Hollow… at least at the time… was a pretty obscure place.

We got married not too long after I became 21 years old, and… when I was pregnant with you a few years later, Starlight… it finally came time to inform Celestia I wanted to step down. Continuing to be Celestia’s protege would of just simply endangered you and your father’s life.

But… once I had given birth to you… I know there was still one more danger I had to deal with before I could retire once and for all.. a family of 3 anarchists… who were threatening to steal the magic from Equestria for themselves or even get rid of all magic if the former wasn’t possible… so once my body mostly recovered from giving live birth in the very house we’re in right now… I set out within 2 weeks… and I’m not even sure I lived to see a 3rd week…

Starlight: So… you’ve really been dead for just about the whole time you were missing…

Firelight just breaks down

Firelight: Why… why did this have to happen…?! We were so close… to just having time for ourselves! *sniff*

Sunset: I’m so sorry, Fi-Fi! I didn’t think I was going to die! I got too overconfident that this last job wasn’t going to be that dangerous… the three anarchists I fought weren’t like a particularly strong entity… they were just a family of ponies…

Starlight: Can you recall their names?

Sunset: …I’ve been trying… but… for some reason I’m drawing a blank… to be frank, I can’t even recall how I died at the moment…

The entire group inside gasps

Starlight: What?! I would think the moment of death, and especially the names of murderers would be like… the one thing every spirit remembers most vividly!

Sunset: I don’t quite get it either… but I think at the very least it’s possible for something to jog my memory… all I can remember right now is that while I died myself… I believe 2 of the 3 anarchists I was chasing went down with me. I’m also drawing a blank on what happened to the 3rd, but if nothing else it looks like despite dying in the process. I was generally successful in my mission of making sure they weren’t able to do anything. Otherwise Equestria would be a magicless hellscape right now… that at least gives me some relief…

Starlight: How come no bodies were ever recovered? Of either you or the anarchists you were fighting that died too?

Sunset: I think where I confronted them, it was a pretty abandoned or at least a very low populated area… and if there’s one thing I feel like I can just vaguely recall about my death… I have this sense that I was falling at one point… off a cliff near an ocean… it’s possible that our bodies just ended up in the ocean… and hungry water predators like sharks picked off any remaining trace of me and the anarchists that died…

Starlight: Well… I guess if that’s all we’re going to get about your death until something jogs your memory… perhaps we should continue talking about back when you were alive. I’ll repeat that you were Celestia’s student… and you gave that away to raise me… that’s… a lot to take in…

Firelight looks at Starlight, and finally starts confessing why he’s kept quiet for so long about her mother.

Firelight: *sniff* The fact she was Celestia’s student… was why I was so adamant about not telling you who was your mother… *sniff* *sob* Do you remember that spell book of advanced magic that was the catalyst for your magic freakout that got you your cutie mark?

Starlight: Yes?

Firelight: That was your mother’s spell book…

Starlight gasps

Firelight: Because my wife led such a dangerous life… I thought you gaining your cutie mark through her spellbook meant you were destined to follow in your mother’s footsteps to become Celestia’s student… but I didn’t want you to go down that path… if you had known who your mother was, and especially after getting your cutie mark… you might of went straight to Canterlot to claim yourself as Celestia’s Student through a sense of birthright…

I had dealt with enough drama from this while I was with your mother… I pleaded several times during our relationship that she step down… and when she finally did… I felt like we were going to be free at last… *sniff* but then she went missing, and as we know now… she died… *sob* but I held onto vain hope for years that she was still alive and would some day come back… *sniff*

But the longer she never came back… the more it convinced me that I shouldn’t tell you. For fear… that… you’d disappear too… *sniff*

More tears stream down from Firelight’s eyes

Starlight: Father… So… you never told me who she was… to protect me?

Firelight nods while still tearing up. Starlight lowers her head, regretting at least some of the treatment she’s given him for never telling her about her mother.

Starlight: Oh gosh… I take back everything I ever said to you when I yelled at you about her… you probably would of been right that I’d go down that path because I would of immediately wanted to go to Celestia’s school for Gifted Unicorns back then... Sunburst did, I would of certainly made it too… and if I had known Sunset was my mother… I might of also been compelled to take her place… and might of even challenged Twilight to a duel for the position at some point…

I suppose you still made some mistakes by this resulting in my deep hatred for Cutie Marks being driven deeper… because if I had gone to the school I would of been able to reunite with Sunburst… perhaps I could of come around on Cutie Marks…

But… ultimately, you were just being a protective father... You didn’t want to see me get hurt, or go missing like Mom did… I wish at the very least you could of hired maybe a babysitter to keep me company rather then making me spend my entire childhood stewing about cutie marks, never having a mother figure, and more… but I now understand your motivation for hiding her name from me at last… cause there would of bound to have been records somewhere of who she was that I would of found, and how instantly compelled I might of been to go down a path you were afraid of…

Starlight tears up

Starlight: I’m so sorry… I understand now… you’re not such a bad father after all…

Starlight walks up to her father to hug him. After being so upset since finding out of his wife’s fate, he finally gets a little bit of happiness in at least somewhat reconciling with his daughter. The rest of the group giving d’awwws and/or crying joyous tears.

After letting go, Starlight decides to ask a question that’s now very possible to get an answer from both her parents.

Starlight: Is it alright… if I may ask what the day of my birth was like?

Sunset smiles

Sunset: One of the greatest days of my life… it was quite painful at first, of course… Sire’s Hollow unfortunately didn’t have a true hospital, at least at the time, and my water had broke far too early for me to get to a hospital without you likely being born while on the way there. Luckily, your father had some medical knowledge and was able to get me through. 

I eventually saw you as an adorable pinkish purple foal with a darker purple mane and tail with light blue highlights... couldn’t help but notice just how much of your father’s genes got passed down to you appearance-wise... and at the same moment I got to see you with my own eyes for the first time... I briefly looked out the window and noticed how pretty the stars outside at night were, I couldn’t help but have been inspired by the sky to give you your first name...

Firelight: And I had talked with your mother beforehand about how fun it’d be for our foal to have a last name to rhyme with hers, if we had a daughter

Sunset: And thus, you… Starlight Glimmer… was born.

Fluttershy: That’s so cute…

The group takes a moment to smile about the nice story about the day Starlight was born as a brief breather from the rather serious subjects that have come out from meeting Sunset. Though Twilight asks a rather important question.

Twilight: I don’t mean to bring seriousness back just as we talked about Starlight’s birth. But Firelight, when it seemed like Sunset was missing for a while… did you even try to spread the word for a search?

Firelight raises a hoof about to speak, but then Sunset answers for him

Sunset: I told him not to before I left, Princess Celestia must of told you I wanted out of the spotlight as much as possible once I had stepped down, right? A national search for me would of made that harder, plus Fi-Fi didn’t know I had died not even more than an hour ago. 

Firelight: Yes... right to the end, even if at some point it become more so about preferring to be blissfully unaware what had happened to her… I wanted to respect what she told me to do before she disappeared...

Twilight: Ah, alright… speaking of Princess Celestia though. I actually wonder if I should bring her real quick... I bet she’d love to see you again, Sunset. Would you be alright with that?

Sunset nods

Sunset: Go on ahead, Twilight. I’d absolutely love to see her again as well. It’s probably important she finds out what happened to me, anyway.

Twilight: Alright… I’ll be back with the Princess. Hang tight while I get her...

((Story continues after the break))

Twilight pulls out another piece of portal gum back to the Saddle Arabia palace. And eventually finds Celestia in the halls, and immediately gallops up close

Twilight: Princess Celestia! I have something urgent to tell you...

Celestia: *gasp* Twilight... What is it? Are any ponies in danger?

Twilight: No, nothing like that… but rather a mixture of good news and bad news…

Celestia: What’s the good news?

Twilight: We found Sunset Shimmer...

Celestia goes wide-eyed and smiles

Celestia: That’s fantastic news! So she is still ali…

Twilight: I’m afraid I’m going to have cut you off there, because unfortunately… we found her via spirit summoning… Sunset Shimmer… happened to also be Starlight’s missing mother... And she died shortly after she disappeared...

Celestia’s heart sinks, her hopes dashed of her previous protege being ok almost immediately. Celestia’s cranes her neck lower, her eyes immediately welling up in tears.

Celestia: No… I should of known… I feared this was the case a while ago…even if she wanted to get out of the spotlight… I know it’d be hard for her to avoid everypony that might recognize her… For somepony to be missing for that long without being noticed… it was never a good sign…

And… Starlight Glimmer… was her daughter the whole time…?

Twilight nods

Celestia: It’s… no wonder then she had such raw power, when I had never even heard of her before you met her… Twilight, please let me have a moment of silence and grief for my departed former protege…

Twilight nods to let Celestia have a brief moment to her own thoughts, knowing now how special Sunset was to her. Celestia just sits down for a moment to grieve, even with Spirit summoning possible. It’s nonetheless upsetting to hear somepony died, especially somepony who was only about in her mid-20’s and also somepony Celestia was quite proud of. But soon she stands back up, flares her majestic wings, and she gives Twilight a determined face.

Celestia: I must go see Sunset again... Please, take me wherever her spirit was summoned…

Twilight nods, walking back to the portal she left back into Firelight’s house. Soon Twilight has returned with Princess Celestia. Celestia looks around the room seeing the other Elements of Harmony, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Starlight Glimmer and her father, as well as Sunburst and Stellar Flare. Until she finally sees Sunset’s spirit. She approaches Sunset with a solemn look on her face.

Celestia: Sunset… I am… deeply saddened to learn you died a long time ago… were… you killed amidst a battle with the anarchists you were chasing after…?

Sunset: Yes, Princess… I was killed while fighting them most likely. I’m still trying to jog my memory on the exact circumstances of my death. I’m even having a hard time recalling the names of them. But I should also say, that one of the vague details I can share is 2 out of the 3 also died, though who or what happened to the 3rd is still something I need to recall. So my death wasn’t entirely in vain, I imagine I did just enough to stop them from whatever they planned to do. Since it seems like Equestria was fine in between my death and Twilight became your new student.

Celestia: It’s still so awful to see it came at a terrible price… I hoped you had simply succeeded and you were living the peaceful family life you wanted… it’s a shame you may have never gotten it...

Sunset: I wouldn’t say I didn’t get it at all… while I was pregnant with Starlight I kinda had to sideline myself once it kind of became risky to move too far. So at least for a short while, I got to experience a more normal life… even if of course that was cut short not long after Starlight is born… I guess from the perspective of that I really wanted to be a mother… then yes, I never really got to have all I wanted to do…

Sunset turns to Starlight

Sunset: I really wish I had gotten to be there for you during your childhood. If I had survived my battle with the anarchists, I fully planned on being there for you everyday for when Fi-Fi was at work.

Starlight slightly tears up and smiles

Starlight: I’m happy to hear that, mother… that would of made such a difference on my life...

Firelight: A little late I know, Starlight… but I thought I may as well also give the reason I never hired a babysitter... I had of course been still holding onto hope that your mother was still alive the whole time… I also feared that if she was still around like I optimistically thought… especially when it became years that she was missing… that your mother would of been heartbroken after she might of thought I moved on and married somepony else if she were indeed still alive and came back to the house only to find another mare taking care of you...

Starlight: I guess that’s an understandable reason, there are such thing as babysitters who are stallions that might of been able to avert that, but just not nearly as common as mares. Though if I may slightly change the subject to a more lighthearted note, I notice my mother keep calling you Fi-Fi. Is that just a cute nickname she came up with?

Sunset tilts her head and smiles

Sunset: Pretty much. Your father liked to call me Shimmy, and I wanted to have my own nickname for him. And we settled on Fi-Fi.

Starlight: *giggles* I guess my father has always liked nicknames. He’s called me Pumky-wumpkins or Sugarplum for as about as long as I can remember. Though they don’t seem to be quite as name related as your nicknames for each other

Sunset laughs, and looks at Starlight with a smug face.

Sunset: Hahahaha! Was it really? I’m pretty sure both of those were in potential REAL names he proposed before you were born. You were lucky I vetoed both of them, ehehehehe!

Firelight sheepishly smiles, Starlight just cringes.

Starlight: ….Yeeeeeeah I can’t imagine what it’d be like if Pumky-Wumpkins was actually my name… Sugarplum may have it at least made some sense given my mane is mostly purple. But I still like what actually became my name so much more.

Celestia smiles at the lighthearted conversation

Celestia: That makes me a little happier that you indeed got to have such cherished family moments like picking a name for your foal. I can’t help but feel regretful however... in order to honor your years of service and to make sure you last mission went smoothly, I should have accompanied you... There’s no way those three would of stood a chance against us both.

Sunset: Perhaps, but… these 3 weren’t some superpowered villains. For the most part I’m pretty sure they were average ponies, maybe I can vaguely recall one of them being a decent unicorn but otherwise in a 1-on-1 duel, I would of wiped the floor with them. I faced tougher odds plenty of times. I didn’t think I would of needed the help, guess a little overconfidence was my downfall.

Celestia: I guess so, sadly… at least I got to meet your lovely daughter that was within you as you stepped down…

Sunset goes wide-eyed surprised Celestia knew she was pregnant then

Sunset: You knew I was pregnant then?! That was still pretty early in my pregnancy…

Celestia: I noticed you were nervously rubbing your belly during our last conversation. Maybe at first I thought you just had a full meal. But given you talked to me so much about wanting to raise a family, I sort of put the pieces together.

And I felt it probably would be a better life for your foal for you to take care of it, you took care of Equestria for most of your life. I knew you’d likely raise a good child, and before I found Twilight first... I was thinking of maybe waiting for your child to be old enough to go to my school...

Starlight gasps

Starlight: Wait, you considered to have me as your next student?!

Celestia: That was my plan at first during the period between Sunset stepping down when I met Twilight. This was before I had that dream after bringing Spike’s egg to Equestria, Twilight became Plan A after she hatched Spike. But if that had fallen through in any number of ways, or if I couldn’t quite find a student to hatch the egg quick enough if Twilight failed to hatch it too. I would of gone out to search for you myself, and hope to convince Sunset to let you try to hatch the egg instead. There’s no guarantee that you would of been able to hatch it, but it’s very possible had Sunset lived and Twilight hadn’t become my student. Starlight would be in Twilight’s position right now.

Starlight: Dang… So I could of been the ruler of Equestria in a year right now if the right chips fell…

Starlight sits down while lowering her head thinking of what could have been. Twilight notices Starlight’s reaction to hearing this, ponders for a moment, and then give her a gracious offer.

Twilight: You know Starlight… I could always make you my student again… if… if… you kind of want to give ruling Equestria a shot. I’d still have a lot to teach you about doing so. But I wouldn’t mind having a co-ruler at some point. As I have thought about the strain of moving both the sun and the moon every day.

Starlight perks up at Twilight’s offer. She feels like she may have some slight interest after learning she’s the daughter of somepony else who could have very well succeeded to the throne, but with mysteries still surrounding yet to be answered about her mother. She decides not to make a complete decision just yet.

Starlight: I’ll… have to think about that. It’s already a huge enough honor that I’ll be succeeding you as Principal of the School of Friendship. I’d… be kind of scared a precedent would be set that every Principal of that School becomes a ruler of Equestria if I ended up co-ruling with you *giggles* But… if I have an answer… I’ll go and see you…

Meanwhile, Sunset is surprised but also kind of proud hearing that her daughter had been a student of a Princess too.

Sunset: You were Twilight’s student at one point? I see that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We were both students of Princesses! How did it end for you?

Starlight: I just had a graduation ceremony after Twilight had decided I had learned enough about friendship, and I was left to do what I wanted for a little while. I don’t think Twilight putting me under her wing originally was intent on making me Princess one day. More so that I learn the values of Friendship personally from her.

Though after I sort of graduated, I would later get employed again under Twilight when she started the School of Friendship, when I decided to become the school’s counselor. Kinda funny… at some point I became so dedicated to counseling I would have an alert for whenever a student knocked at my door. To the annoyance of my friend, Trixie. Mom, when you said that you were dedicated to keeping track of criminals even at the expense of having anything resemble a normal life. I realized that may have been another trait I inherited from you…

Sunset: Certainly sounds like it, doesn’t it? Hope you didn’t get all of my rather flawed traits, I… did kind of have a temper back in the day.

Starlight sheepishly smiles remembering all the time she’s expressed rage whether it was before she was reformed, when she had to bottle up anger at Trixie, when she most recently yelled at her father, etc.

Starlight: Er… I kinda have that too…

Starlight sheepishly smiles

Sunset: Oh well… at least that means we can sympathize with each other!

Celestia smiles hearing the conversation and decides to ask Sunset for a favor.

Celestia: This has been a nice conversation with you and your daughter. But may I ask you for something?

Sunset: What is it, Princess?

Celestia: I’d like... to give you a hug real quick, or at least… I hope the cosmos counted us as close enough to do so.

Sunset smiles

Sunset: Of course, Princess. I’d love that. And we better count, or else some how some way... I’m gonna get somepony to file a lawsuit against the Grim Reaper!

The whole room giggles thinking about a lawsuit against death itself. But Celestia and Sunset approach eachother close, Celestia puts a hoof around the back of Sunset’s neck, lowers her head and smiles.

The hug is successful. Sunset hugs back a little by wrapping a hoof behind one of Celestia’s tall, slim front hooves.

Pinkie: *giggles* The Reaper doesn’t have to worry about a lawsuit now!

Starlight: Hey! How about a hug for me too, Mom!

Firelight: Me three, Shimmy!

Sunset: Of course, Starlight and Fi-Fi!

Sunset and Celestia let go of each other so Sunset can proceed to have a small group hug with her family that lasts a good while. When they break off the hug, Sunset goes a little extra and surprises Firelight with a kiss.

Firelight: Even as a spirit, your kisses are the best, Shimmy…

The rest of the group just has been d’awwing all over the place for the heartwarming moment. Though as much as the ponies were enjoying these happy moments, there were still mysteries about Sunset left to uncover.

Twilight: I don’t wish to ruin the moment, but I feel like we should soon get some sort of lead so we can help Sunset uncover more of what happened. I don’t want to leave without uncovering who was responsible for Sunset’s death or at least get to finding some clues.

Sunset and Starlight nod, and Stellar Flare suddenly walks up to the front.

Stellar Flare: I… might have something… because… I think somehow I know you, Sunset… but I can’t place my hoof on why…

Sunset takes a look at Stellar and gives a surprised look. She’s been focused too much on talking with her family for the first time ever since she died, talking with her daughter for the first time in particular, and then also reuniting with Celestia to notice any others in the room she recognized

Sunset: I think I know you too! Weren’t you… my older brother’s wife?

Stellar Flare goes wide-eyed

Stellar Flare: YOU’RE Sunspot’s younger sister?!

Starlight, Trixie, and Sunburst give heavy gasps. Being Starlight’s mother wasn’t the only mystery found out about Sunset today. And it looks like there is still plenty more to go.

UP NEXT: Chapter 27: Starlight’s Mother, Part 3 - Where Did She Die?

#Secrets Of The Dragon's Tear #Sunburst #Stellar Flare #Twilight Sparkle #Genie #Starlight Glimmer #Sunset Shimmer #Firelight #Fluttershy #Princess Celestia #Celestia #Spirit Summoning

[darisu-chan]

Kaien vs Ichigo: A Memories in the Rain Analysis, Part 1

Hello

It’s me again, back with my bs lmao

I finally finished the mini arc of Memories in the Rain pt. 2 and, as I’ve been sort of discussing certain stuff that’s happened in Bleach as I re-read the chapters, I decided I needed to talk about MITR as a whole. If you’ve been following my posts, I didn’t really analyze the first part. I saved it to compare it with the second part. I also thought that instead of just saying my thoughts as I have been doing thus far, I’d go the extra mile and truly analyze both parts, specifically comparing Kaien and Ichigo.

So, sometime ago, I wrote this post about how it bothers me how people compare Kaien and Ichigo as being the same, and using that to establish IchiRuki. When, honestly, you don’t need to. Ichigo and Rukia’s relationship stands on its own. In fact, it is so strong that, years after the ending, people keep being fascinated by IR. The LA was centered on their relationship as well. And it’s still the Ichigo and Rukia show, thank you very much.

And though I made some good points in that post, I decided to further explore Kaien and Ichigo, as well as the events of both MITR and how that relates to Ichigo and Rukia.

It’s probably been done many times before, but I’ve never analyzed them in much depth, so here we go.

The first part will soley be about Ichigo and Kaien as individuals. On the second part, I’ll finally explore MITR

1. The Shiba Gene

So, as we all know, Ichigo and Kaien look like each other physically, and in Everything But the Rain we finally found out the reason why: they are cousins. This put a stop to all the “Ichigo is Kaien reborn” theories people liked to come up with back in the day.

Now, in the story, this resemblance was pointed out by Byakuya and even Ukitake, to an extent. Which means Kaien was designed to look like Ichigo on purpose to further draw parallels between them. What I mean to say is that this is a seed that was planted in the readers’ minds, and as such, comparing both guys was done on purpose.

Interestingly enough, neither Kukaku nor Ganju are ever seen to believe Ichigo looks like their older brother.

In EBTR we see Isshin as a young man, and we can see how Isshin, Ichigo and Kaien resemble each other, meaning the Shiba gene is a strong one, and, if Ichigo had actually stayed in SS, that same resemblance could have been used as a way for him to claim that part of his heritage, but I digress.

We are all aware they look like each other because they are family, so we don’t need to go deep into detail in that aspect. Now the true question is, just how similar are they to each other?

Physically speaking, there are a few noticable differences, like hair and eye color. Kaien’s hair is longer and there’s the fact Kaien has very long eyelashes, as Kukaku and Ganju have. He’s also taller.

Although key differences, they are not enough to negate their similarities. Hell, Ichigo does look more similar to Kaien than Ganju, his actual brother.

But there’s something very important that sets them apart: Kaien always carries himself as if he didn’t have a care in the world. When we’ve seen Kaien, he’s always able to smile freely. Sure, he also scowls, gets upset, and the like, but he goes back to smiling. This is something Ichigo hasn’t been able to do since his mother died. Hell, there’s a whole chapter about that (Can’t Smile Don’t Blame). There are very few times in which Ichigo actually smiles, and all of them are short-lived. In fact, whenever he’s tried to give big smiles, they seem off, as seen when he smiled to Orihime back at the beginning of MITR and later on, in the Lost Agent Arc, when he smiled at Yuzu. 

Even when Rukia has a flashback of Kaien while looking at Ichigo, their smiles look very different:

Ichigo more often than not smiles through his eyes, while Kaien tends to smile with his eyes closed:

Although brash and arrogant as well, Kaien is also more mature. He can go from joking around to having deep conversations with Rukia. Ichigo, as a teenager, has yet to mature and will become more and more like a grown up as time passes by. At this point in the manga, he really isn’t there yet. Now, this will be important later on.

In short, even though they look very similar, they carry themselves with different auras. Kaien is more of a free-spirit, while Ichigo is a person who seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

2. Prodigies

Ichigo, as the MC of a shounen manga, is obviously special. From the very first moment, we know he’s not like everyone else. He’s able to see spirits, which is not the norm. And then Rukia informs us his reiatsu is too powerful for a normal human.

And as time goes by, as he keeps fighting hollows, he grows exponentially. 

When Urahara trains him, he realizes that, which is why he tells Yoruichi that if there is someone who can achieve bankai in 3 days, is him.

As the story goes on, we learn that Ichigo is even more special, as he is also part Quincy and Hollow. But he also has very impressive skills when it comes to swordmanship, shunpo, and the like. 

What is more relevant is Ichigo’s ability to grow at a fast rate, always learning from his mistakes. 

And although he was never taught how to be a Shinigami in the traditional way, we can see how he surpassed his peers.

Now, although Kaien is not as special as Ichigo, we learn from Ganju that, for Shinigami standards, Kaien’s very impressive:

Hisagi, for example, failed the final exam numerous times. Rukia says she barely passed the entrace exam. Finishing the curriculum in two years is a great achievement. And the fact that he made VC in 5 years means a lot. It took Renji, let’s say, around 35 years to be promoted to VC. And Renji was in the special class at the Academy.

People like Ichigo and Kaien are not the norm. They are very skilled and special individuals. Might be because of their genes (it’s never explicitly said, but they might come from a long line of Shinigami), or just because they were gifted with those powers, but the point is these characteristics set them apart as more powerful than the rest.

3. Brash, Rule-breaking, Arrogant

The words above can be used to describe both Ichigo and Kaien, and that’s certainly Byakuya’s opinion of them.

Kaien and his siblings are not like the nobles we know. They’re certainly very different to Byakuya and the Kuchiki Clan, but they also live very differently than Soi Fon, Omaeda, the Shihouin Clan, and so on. They seem to live more like the common folk than like dignified people. Hence, Byakuya seems very against this sort of attitude, at least early on in Bleach. 

Because of being loud, less refined, brash, and with a penchant of rule-breaking, Kaien seems totally different to other nobles. However, I dare say these characteristics extrapolate what Ukitake meant in this scene:

Not anyone would be able to go against the whole Soul Society, specially if you are a Shinigami.

Byakuya was certainly not going to do any rule-breaking. As we later find out, he had even promised not to break anymore rules and was going to stick to that promise.

Renji, until confronted by Ichigo, had decided not to go against the SS.

Even Ukitake wasn’t about to start a revolution to save Rukia. It took him seeing Ichigo to decide on what to do.

Basically, only Kaien would have been upfront about his own intentions.

And what we know of Kaien is that he was the sort of guy who would break the rules when necessary. That means, that he would do the right thing. Specially when it comes to saving his peers. He even tells Rukia as much:

He might not have been the most elegant of individuals, but Kaien’s brashness and even arrogance came from the fact he had a good heart.

Now, who does exactly what Kaien would have done?

That’s right.

Ichigo.

Here the comparison of Ukitake trying to imagine what Kaien would have done is directly compared and contrasted to Ichigo, as before that scene Ichigo confronted Byakuya.

Now, Ichigo wasn’t raised as a noble. He had no idea he was one until almost the end of Bleach. But he was raised with the idea of protecting other people and of doing what is right.

We have seen him protect other people, even before he became a Shinigami (his friendship with Chad, Keigo and Mizuiru respectively reflects this, as he saved the three of them). 

Ichigo is not the kind of guy who can just do nothing while an injustice is taking place.

Ichigo has been, from the first moment we saw him, brash, rule-breaking and even arrogant, but note that from his introduction, we saw him protecting a little ghost girl. It goes to show that Ichigo would go to extremes to protect others and do what’s right. So, it’s no surprise he jumps at the chance to go to SS to save Rukia, and that he grows stronger and stronger each time to save her, as he cannot let her die. 

However, there’s a key difference.

If Kaien had been alive, he would have saved Rukia as 1) he would’ve probably figured out an execution was too hard a punishment for Rukia’s crime, 2) he told her he would always stand by her as long as they were from the same division, and 3) he wouldn’t let her just die.

But Ichigo’s reasons to save Rukia are much more complicated than that. As I’ve said in other posts, Ichigo is filled with guilt, as Rukia’s in this position because of him, firstly because she saved him by giving him her own powers to protect his family, and secondly, because Rukia got taken away to protect him as he feels he failed to protect her.

But, even then, it’s not only guilt that fuels him or the fact that he owes Rukia.

There’s the fact that Rukia is an important person to Ichigo regardless. Particularly, she is kind and good. Certainly not the type of person who deserves to die, much less because of a stupid rule.

Then, there is something else at a deeper level Ichigo doesn’t say out loud

My point with this is that Kaien and Ichigo are certainly the same type of rule-breaking people and that’s the sort of person needed to pull a stunt like saving Rukia from execution, in such a way that this person would even inspire others to help. Both guys are special in that way. However, in practice their actions come from different places. Certainly there’s a closeness Ichigo shares with Rukia due to circumstances that adds more complexity to his intent to save her and that, may I add, also fuels him to such a degree he refuses to lose. 

Which brings us to...

4. Rukia

The last main common denominator between them is no one else but Rukia, a person they both have inspired in different ways. However, the type of relationship they have with her is different.

Let’s start with Kaien:

So, their meeting takes place shortly after Rukia was adopted into the Kuchiki Clan and graduated early from the Academy. Ever since, it seems she was judged for both not really being from a noble family and from having been adopted by one. We can say that no one is looking at who Rukia truly is, but they are making assumptions about her at this point. This is isolating to Rukia, who now has to deal with a new identity and a new way of living. She’s now apart from the one person she had known most of her life to that point (Renji) and is feeling out of place.

Then, Kaien swoops in and he treats her like he would treat any other subordinate. He doesn’t treat her like a street rat, a pampered noble or even a pet. And she says it herself that having that normality is exactly what she needed. Rukia didn’t feel comfortable at home with Byakuya, but she could at least feel more at ease in her division, working under Kaien.

Their relationship was that of mentor and mentee. Later on we find out Kaien trained her in swordsmanship and probably other skills. 

But he also taught her important lessons about life:

And these are lessons Rukia will carry in her heart the whole series. Protecting others, making others feel welcomed, forming hearts with others. Rukia made hers everything that Kaien taught her. 

He’s very special in her life because Kaien was the first person to make her feel as if she belonged in her division, and even as a Shinigami.

In short, he’s acting like a parental influential, or even being the brother Byakuya failed to be at this point in time. Teaching Rukia and accepting her, so that she could feel she had a place she belonged to.

And we know that Kaien was the one to make her feel good

But here we have a power imbalance. Because Kaien is doing the teaching, he’s changing her life, but we don’t know if it’s mutual. We don’t know if Kaien was affected by Rukia’s actions and words. It’s a very unilateral situation.

Furthermore, if we go with the route of Rukia had a crush on Kaien, there’s more power imbalance and impossibilities, as we know that:

She already couldn’t be the person closest to Kaien, as Miyako existed. 

Rukia recognized Miyako as having great qualities, probably what Kaien even liked about her, and aspired to be like her:

So, Kaien and Rukia were never in a position of equality for several reasons, starting from the fact Kaien was her vice captain.

This is even exemplified when the find the hollow that killed Miyako:

Rukia acts like a subordinate, trying to be helpful, and is denied:

Finally, there’s a key aspect that I will be analyzing with more detail in another post, but Kaien is for Rukia what Masaki is for Ichigo:

The root of her trauma is that she failed to protect Kaien, who was the person who taught her so much and helped her when nobody else did. Rukia feels as if she didn’t do anything to save him from his fate:

And when Kaien became a hollow, instead of running or trying to help him, Rukia let instinct take in and we know what happens next:

And the fact she couldn’t save him is worse becase Kaien doesn’t blame her:

So Rukia ends up in a state of guilt, because she couldn’t save the one person she probably wanted to save the most.

This trauma will continue on for some time until HM, where Rukia comes to terms with what happened. However, that doesn’t change the fact that her relationship remains a one-way street.

Now, as for with Ichigo, they have a different relationship altogether. 

It is true that Rukia was Ichigo’s first teacher when it comes to Shinigami stuff, but it is not as if he never taught Rukia anything.

Their relationship is so special because they’re two sides of the same coin. The fact that one is a Shinigami and the other is a human being makes it so that they end in a relationship of equals. As Ichigo needs to learn how to be a Shinigami, Rukia has to learn how to be a human.

Even when they just tell each other their names, the panel demonstrates this equality

Even the way they’re both holding the sword symbolizes this equality:

They’re both holding it and directing it towards Ichigo due to a common goal.

The fact they also call each other by their first names is important. Rukia always used “-dono” to refer to Kaien, a term of respect, while he called her by her last name. Meanwhile, Ichigo and Rukia call each other by their first names, symbolizing they’re close, something that is even pointed out within the story.

They also grow together.

Not only does Rukia teach Ichigo about his powers and her philosophy of saving others, Ichigo keeps surprising her at every turn:

Ichigo teaches Rukia how to be human, and not in the way of how to appear human or do human things, but how to feel, how to make connections with others

We always say Rukia changed Ichigo’s world, but he had that same effect in her:

It was always a mutual thing.

A relationship so different to any other in this manga.

But the best example of how different Kaien and Ichigo’s relationships with Rukia are is the fact that Rukia doesn’t think Ichigo is like Kaien from the get go.

She’s reminded of Kaien twice:

1. When Ichigo’s fighting Grandfisher, and I’ll analyze that part in the next post.

2. When Ichigo finally appears in front of her in SS and reassures her he’s not going to die. He smiles at her and Rukia remembers Kaien’s smile. She closes her eyes due to all the emotions she’s feeling.

My best explanation as to why Rukia thinks of Kaien in that moment is, as I said before, because Kaien was also reassuring in the fact he was not gonna die, yet he did and by her hand. Rukia doesn’t want to cause Ichigo’s death and she already feels guilty about turning him into a Shinigami, Byakuya hurting him, and everything else he’s gone through to try to save her. Rukia doesn’t want Ichigo to be like Kaien and die for her sake, as she believes she’s not worthy of being saved:

This is yet another thing Ichigo and Rukia have in common, they both feel guilty for having in some way cause harm to the other. 

Because, above all else, they both want to protect the other.

The thing is, the two actually achieve it: Rukia saves Ichigo’s life in the first chapter and when Byakuya is about to kill him. While Ichigo ends up saving her from execution, making it so their relationship stays equal.

That is the beauty of IchiRuki.

It’s never unilateral, but their feelings parallel each other’s constantly.

They want to save each other and they do.

They learn from one another, and they have faith in one another.

One doesn’t take while the other receive, they both give and receive something in return.

Because, in their eyes, they are equals.

Anyway,

This is the end of this very long post.

The rest of MITR will be analyzed in a later post.

Thanks for reading!

#ichiruki #darisu-chan reads bleach #tagging it ichiruki because you're the only ones who'd like to read this #lol

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

The Boss’ Office

Secretary!Joshua x CEO!Female Reader

Word Count: 2958

Contents: teasing, sub svt, slight masturbation, oral (male receiving), face sitting, Joshua being a cocky lil shit, slight begging, unprotected sex

For @shaylee-summerss-stuff we’ve only just gotten to know each other this year but so far I’m loving out budding friendship. You always bring the most wonderful content to the group chat and I end up attacked by Joshua and your’re so kind and caring. I hope you have a wonderful holiday

Your secretary really had to be the cutest man alive. He had such a kind, sweet face, round glasses perched upon his nose and shy smile on his lips. You were sure at this point that every sweater he owned was dorky, and the sweater vests were even moreso. Yet they managed to look so charming on him, when on anyone else you wouldn’t look twice.

What was more amusing though, was how he reacted to you. You knew more than a few of your peers thought he was a bumbling fool. He had a habit of getting tongue tied around you, or tripping over his feet, of dropping papers. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stutter as a blush crept up his cheeks, before he scurried out of the room again. His crush on you was about as adorable as he was.

Besides how cute he was, he did do his job well. He was very polite and pleasant on the phone and seemed to put everyone at ease before transferring the calls to you. He had a good attention to detail, never forgetting something important. And he was reliable. You were glad you could keep him around, though.

Toying with him was too much fun.

You played around with your outfits, he noticed everything. He noticed when your new dress fit you a little more tightly. He noticed when you wore a different lip colour. What really made him stare was days like today, when your blouse had just a few more buttons undone, and your pencil skirt hugged your hips and ass tightly, your hair up off your neck in an updo that took much more time than it appeared to. It was days like today that your outfit had Joshua shifting in his seat and blushing anytime you called him into your office.

As the day wore near its end you toyed with a folder, one you’d had hidden in your desk. One with pictures of you that you knew would get his head spinning. A smirk curled at your lips as you set it on the desk, slipping one picture out just a bit, just enough to tempt him to look. Recently he’d started to meet your sweet and slightly flirtatious comments with clumsy flirting of his own. It was awkward but it only enticed you more.

“Joshua,” you called through the intercom to his desk. “Come in here for a minute.”

You waited, readjusting the folder a little and then placing your hands on your desk. A few moments later Joshua hurried into the room. He tripped over his feet a little, stopping just before the desk and dropping his head, playing with the hem of his sweater.

“There you are, sweetie,” you grinned. You saw a shy smile tug at the corner of his plush lips.

“I-I got in here as quickly as I could,” you could hear some of the nerves in his voice. “It’s always a treat to see you.”

Your grin became more apparent as you beckoned him closer and motioned to the chair across from your seat. Joshua had been getting slowly more and more bold and you wanted to know if he would let his curiosity get the better of him.

And what he would do about it.

“Oh shoot, you know what, I forgot I had something quick to attend to,” you smiled. “You don’t mind waiting a few moments for me, do you?”

“N-Not at all,” he stammered.

“Perfect, thank you sweetie.” You trailed your fingers along the desk as you walked your way around it, swaying your hips just a little more as you made your way out of the room.

The difficult part of course was giving him enough time. You knew he would notice the folder right away but you needed just enough time for him to see it. You managed to wrap yourself up for a few moments, freshening up in your bathroom. You wandered through the floor and past a few offices as the seconds ticked past. Six minutes though and you couldn’t bring yourself to wait any longer.

You knew you would look absolutely ridiculous if anyone else came down the hallway. You were sneaking on your tiptoes, careful to make sure the heels of your shoes didn’t hit the ground and make a noise. If he was looking through the pictures you didn’t want to disturb him until you opened the door. Of course, he could have resisted, you were sure if he did you would be met with a smug smirk and almost flirty comment as he left. You turned the handle very slowly before opening the door to be greeted with a scene that had heat rushing to your core.

Joshua sat in the chair, leaning over the desk and pouring over the pictures. He’d spread them out so he could see each one. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth and you were sure you could hear his small whines and whimpers as he palmed himself through his pants hurriedly.

“Are you enjoying those?” you smirked, letting the office door swing shut behind you.

Joshua gave you a look of surprise, a blush rising in his cheeks before he frantically tried to put all the pictures back into the folder.

“I-I-I’m sorry I didn’t- th-they were just there- I-I sh-shouldn’t…” his words died out as you laughed, settling for trying to cover the very obvious bulge in his pants.

“You didn’t answer my question, sweetie,” you hummed, moving in front of him. You leaned on the arms of the chair and he pressed back into the chair, his eyes flicking down towards your chest. “Did you enjoy them?”

“Y-Yes ma’am,” he breathed.

You let your hand trail up his arm and over his shoulder before digging it into the hairs at the back of his head and tugging. Joshua gasped as his gaze met yours again.

“I prefer mistress,” you purred.

“O-Okay,” he answered and you tugged his hair sharply. “Y-Yes mistress.”

“You’re a quick learner, sweetie,” you murmured, leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

Joshua returned your kisses eagerly. His lips moved desperately against yours, though his hands stayed pinned to the chair. You were quick to deepen the kiss and Joshua was all too eager to let your tongue into his mouth, exchanging open mouthed kisses with you, small whines barely making it out. 

You let one hand rest on his thigh, squeezing it between kisses and smirking as he shifted his hips in anticipation. You let your hand slide up his thigh a little before stopping again, relishing the way he moved impatiently. Your fingers kneaded and squeezed his thigh slowly as he let out quiet pants into your kisses, until you finally moved your hand into his lap, palming him through his pants.

Joshua fell back from you with a high whine, rocking his hips up into your hand. You took in the way he look, eyes slid shut from the feeling, hair falling gently into his face, and gorgeous, plush lips parting in quiet moans. The sight had arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach as your brain started to spin up the image of how he might look when he came.

Joshua whined as you pulled your hand away, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. He quickly grew more flustered as you slowly undid you blouse, his eyes trailing down and taking in the way your chest looked, wrapped in lacy lingerie. His hands gripped the chair a little tighter as he brought his gaze back to meet yours.

“W-What are y-you-”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” you asked firmly.

“I-I-I u-uh…” He was cute when he stammered.

“Use your words,” you purred. “Those pants are looking awfully tight.”

“C-Can you suck me off?” You didn’t even have a chance to grab his hair before he corrected himself. “M-Mistress, would you please suck me off?”

A grin spread across your lips. “Of course, sweetie, but don’t mess that up again.” You sunk to your knees, loving the way he started to pant just from the sight. “And don’t cum until you’re told.”

He nodded quickly, lifting his hips as you undid his pants and pulled them off. He followed your instructions to pull off his sweater, leaving him in a t-shirt. He bit down on his lip as you pulled his hips towards the edge of the chair, admiring his cock, standing hard against his stomach, the tip red and leaking precum. You very gently wrapped your hand around the base, earning a whimper from him.

You looked up at him and held his gaze as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. A beautiful, whiny moan fell from his lips as you teased his tip, running your tongue around it slowly. Joshua struggled to keep his hips still as you teased him, his knuckles already white holding onto the chair.

“Remember, sweetheart,” you murmured. “Don’t cum until you’re told.”

“Y-Yes mistress,” he breathed, his voice quickly dissolving into a moan as you took him into your mouth.

You set a quick pace, bobbing on his cock and hollowing your cheeks. Joshua struggled to keep his head up, trying to keep his eyes on you. His cheeks were flushed a pretty red and his eyes heavily lidded, obviously flustered but desperately wanting to keep his eyes on the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock. You moved your hand in time with your mouth, twisting it just a bit and eliciting a gorgeous moan from his lips.

You let your free hand move to your chest, teasing your nipple through your bra, and moaning around his cock.

“Oh god,” he moaned, his head falling back. “P-Please, mistress, please d-do that again.”

You played with yourself, giving into the moans that rose in your throat. Each vibration wrapping around Joshua’s cock and drawing moans from his lips. He struggled to keep his hips still as his moans climbed higher and higher in his voice. Babbles started to fall from his lips just before you relaxed your throat and took as much of him as you possibly could.

His orgasm took you both by surprise as his hot cum ran down your throat. Despite his disobedience, the sight of his face made you groan, an expression of pure bliss etched across it as pretty moans fell from his perfect lips.

It was something you definitely wanted to see again.

Your face took on an expression of disapproval as you pulled back off his cock, gently wiping the cum from the corner of your mouth. Joshua’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at you with a nervous expression.

“I-I didn’t m-mea-”

“Take off you shirt,” you instructed, standing slowly. “And get on the desk.”

“Yes mistress,” he said quickly, scrambling onto the large desk and laying on his back, his gaze following you. You undid the zipper on your skirt, letting it fall to the floor and smirking at the way he took in your appearance almost shyly. You let your panties fall off with a smirk before climbing onto the desk and straddling his chest.

“You weren’t supposed to cum so quickly, sweetheart,” you hummed, playing with his hair. “I think you should make it up to me.”

He nodded, holding your gaze.

“If you make me cum,” you grinned. “I might just reward you.”

A smile tugged at his lips and he let his hands grip your thighs, far more firmly than you expected, as you moved over his face. There was a glint in his eye, almost mischievous, as he guided you down onto his face.

His tongue dragged long strokes through your folds and you gripped at his hair, already bracing yourself on the desk with your other hand. He groaned at the taste of you, bringing his tongue to circle your clit quickly. It didn’t take him long to figure out exactly what motion made your thighs start to tremble around him and you were sure he was smirking at you from the look in his eyes.

You managed breathy words as he alternated between passing his tongue over your clit quickly and sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. “You’ve done this before.”

His words were muffled as he pulled his lips from your clit. “Did you think that I hadn’t, mistress?”

You didn’t have the time to formulate an answer as his tongue plunged into your heat. You let out a gasp as pleasure rushed up your spine from the feeling. His tongue moved in you, subtly changing speeds until you were grinding on his face, chasing the sensation. He tugged you closer and you gasped as his tongue plunged deeper.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, every time you managed to look down at him the heated gaze he met you with had you clenching. He moaned sweetly against your core, the vibrations sending tendrils of pleasure curling through you. Breathy moans fell from your lips as he started to curl his tongue.

You cried out as he curled his tongue into just the right spot. He pulled you down flush against his face, letting you overwhelm his every sense. You thighs started to shake as he moved his tongue quickly, curling and plunging it against your sweet spot over and over as you gripped his hair more tightly. His fingers dug into your thighs sharply as pleasure coursed through you.

You came with a moan and a string of curses, your legs shaking and waves of euphoria rushing through your body as you rode his tongue through your orgasm. Joshua eagerly lapped up your release until you were gasping and pulled yourself away from his lips. He grinned at you as he rested on his chest.

“Was that too much for you, mistress?” he teased.

A smirk curled your lips. “Not in the slightest, sweetheart.”

You moved to straddle his hips before he could pull you back onto his face. You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping him quickly and teasing the sensitive underside and he let out a whiny moan. You watched the dominance in his gaze slowly melt away as you teased him, moving just slower than he needed you to go. You held his hips down with your other hand as he tried to chase the sensation and he whined.

“Please,” he moaned.

“Please what, sweetheart?” you teased.

“Please fuck me, mistress.”

You gave him a satisfied smirk, pulling off your bra before aligning yourself with him and slowly sinking down on his cock. You held in your moan, only letting out a low hum at the feeling as Joshua moaned out sweetly. You braced yourself on his chest as you started to grind into him, rolling your hips and watching his back arch up off the desk. His hands found your hips, trying and failing to get you to move faster.

“You gave into me so easily, sweetheart,” you murmured. “What happened to that dominance?”

Joshua whimpered in response, giving you a sweet pleading stare that had you biting down on your lip.

“Come on, sweetie, I want an answer. Otherwise I can grind slow like this all day.”

“I was being cocky, mistress,” he whined. “I’m sorry, but please.”

“I don’t know if you even deserve to be fucked the way you want,” you mused.

“P-Please,” his voice was only growing whinier. “Please I’ll be good, I won’t cum until you tell me j-just please fuck me harder, mistress.”

Joshua let out a moan as you clenched around him, his begging only turning you one more. You let your lips curl into a smirk.

“Since you begged for it.”

You lifted your hips up quickly before coming down hard on his cock. Joshua threw his head back, letting out a choked moan as his fingers dug into your hips. Your pace was quick and rough as your mind became focused on reaching your high again. With each movement of your hips, his cock filled your heat, sending wave after wave of pleasure rushing through your body.

The coil in the pit of your stomach started to tighten again, helped along with the sounds of Joshua’s moans. He cried out each time your hips came down to meet his, moving his own hips sloppily up towards yours. His thighs were trembling and in between moans he babbled, trying to find the words he needed while his head spun.

You moved your hips as fast as you could, your voice coming out breathy. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“C-C-Cum- c-can…” he babbled, trying to form a sentence. You brought two fingers to your clit, pressing them against it and holding them still.

“Come on,” you teased. 

“M-Mistress, c-can I c-c-cum, p-p…”

“Cum for me, sweetie.”

You moved your fingers in quick circles over your clit, clenching down around him. Joshua screamed out, bucking his hips up into your roughly as he came hard, thick ropes of cum releasing deep inside you.

The feeling sent you over the edge, legs shaking as you moaned out and ground down on his cock as you released. Waves of pure ecstasy rocked through your body as you collapsed onto his chest, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

You both panted as you started to come down from your highs. He let his arms wrap around you gently and the soft gesture made you smile.

“Holy moly,” he breathed.

You snorted at his response. “You really are too cute.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he mumbled. “D-Does that mean we can do this again?”

“That means we’re definitely going to do this again.”

#Seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #Svt #svt smut #svt imagines #joshua #joshua hong #Joshua smut #joshua imagines #hong jisoo

[hydrangeasimagination]

Bentō

Pairing: Platonic! Big Bro Bakugo & Younger Sib! Reader

Summary: Katsuki is started to make an extra lunch, something of which his mother takes notice. She’s at first elated when she thinks that he’s finally found someone he likes. But later finds out that’s not the case at all as you appear before one night

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of Physical Abuse. 

A/N:  Based on all the familial Dad Might Family Unit asks. Still trying to fix writing, still feel bad about it. Just have this platonic stuff for now, I got some other parts too… I’ve been feeling all sorts of bad so I wrote this out. I hope this is okay? IDK, I’m dyin’ Scoobs - just trying to get back into the groove. I’m not the best at writing sensitive subject matters so, I think this is my kind of start into delving into it?? Feel free to give me feedback, I want to portray everything as accurately as I can.

Under the cut for space and because of the warnings

[Part 2]

The sight of a bento wrapped in a pastel furoshiki caught Mitsuki’s sight early Monday morning as she started to pack up for work. The pretty fabric was clearly new as she didn’t remember ever having one like it. With the clouds that decorated it, making the blue look like cotton candy. It was set beside her son’s usual red, the stark difference making her wonder where it had come from.

It was pretty, there was no question.

Just out of place on the dark marble of the kitchen counter, out of place tucked into the arms of her son.

She had a half a mind to go and interrogate Katsuki, having seen him make quite a bit of food for lunch the night before. But he grabbed his things and left before she could say anything, the delicately made bento wrapped in pastels came with him.

Mitsuki was curious, but saved it into the back of her head.

That was Monday.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday followed the same pattern.

The same pretty furoshiki was used again and again, wrapping up the extra lunch he continued to make. The food items varied, changing and differing from his own and making it clear that he was adapting to cooking for someone else’s tastes.

Many of the options were meant to fill and satisfy, full of what seemed to be proteins and vitamins. The dedication he had to making the second lunch was admirable.

She was sure at this point he had some type of crush. That he’s met someone that’s finally caught his attention.

Especially when she noticed that the manner in how he packed up the food was way too uncharacteristic of him. Packing onigiri into shapes, frying sausages into octopi, even the vegetables were cut into flowers.

Her son was pining, Mitsuki was sure of it.

So when he came home on Friday night, she was dying to finally worm the secrets from him. Eyes trained on the door, she watched as the water on the stove boiled in the background. The droning of the TV show Masaru was watching distinctly heard over the sound of the lock clicking.

The door swung open and Mitsuki felt her voice stop in her throat when she took notice that he wasn’t alone.

Your fingers were curled into the edge of his blazer, remaining behind him as you hid your face from view. She watched with baited breath as his hand drifted back to grasp at your’s, holding it with such care she hadn’t ever seen him display towards anyone else.

He kicked the door shut and turned to you, still shielding your face from her line of sight and quietly said something to you. Something unheard over her own speeding heartbeat.

Wordlessly, you toed off your shoes and he led you into the living room.

His voice seemed uncaring but Mitsuki knew much better, his eyes betrayed him as he spoke, “Is it alright if… My friend stays the night?”

Mitsuki nearly choked.

He was asking if you could stay over, before he even introduced you to them.

On top of referring to you as a friend?

Masaru was equally shocked, if not concerned. You weren’t even looking at them, hiding behind him the way you were. Whether it be because you were scared or shy, they couldn’t tell.

“Is it alright with —”

Katsuki seemed to tense, baring his teeth.

Shoulders squared as he practically barked, cutting his father off completely, “Why the hell would I ask if it wasn’t?!”

The fierceness he displayed wasn’t at all surprising, as losing his temper quickly was something they were used to. But with one look at you, shaking like a leaf behind their hotheaded son; dread filled them both.

He noticed too, only holding your hand tighter and giving another scoff, “We’re goin’ to my room.”

Carmine clashed with a matching pair before he dragged you away, leaving two parents staring at your retreating forms before they disappeared up the stairs. Mitsuki met her husband’s gaze, who peered back at her with concern.

“There’s something wrong.” Masaru said quietly, as if he spoke too loud you both could hear him.

She slowly nodded in agreement, a pit forming in her stomach. Pushing her hair back, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

Mitsuki was doubly worried as Katsuki had only come down three times over the rest of the night. The first was to ask her where the extra blanket was, the second to bring plates of food up the stairs, and the last was to bring the dishes down to be washed.

Only a gruff thanks for the food was given through his trips up and down the stairs. He was uncharacteristically quiet, barely meeting their gazes throughout the duration of his time on the first floor.

At last, he came down once more, dressed for bed.

She stopped him before he had the chance to leave the kitchen, frowning deeply as she asked, “Alright, brat, what the hell is going on?”

Katsuki was silent, gripping at the glass of water he had gotten. He refused to meet her gaze for the longest time, his jaw tightening as he was clearly trying to find the words to say. To explain his behavior, to explain why that you were here.

Her heart squeezed at the unsure look on his face and her eyes softened, the tight frown loosening. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah.” He muttered, flickering his gaze to the glass with contemplation. “But… Right now, it s'not my place to say anything.”

Confusion was all she felt for that moment, tightly pursing her lips together at the sight of his rather grim expression.

Mitsuki didn’t know how to feel.

Many emotions flooded her at once.

Concern.

Guilt.

Fear.

What the hell was going on?

But only when she noticed that he seemed distracted by something behind her, did she turn her head.

Her chest felt tight, breath no longer being able to draw into her lungs. Her mouth dropping open at the sight of you, the first good look at you.

Oh, god.

You were pretty, there was no question about that.

Just out of place, the bruising that bloomed from your left eye made it clear why you hid.

Seeing your collarbones prominently over the collar of the shirt he allowed you to borrow, the realization struck her made her skin crawl.

A cold chill turning her blood to ice as she noticed the scars that wrapped around your arms like spider webs.

Katsuki breathed your name, voice full of something akin to anxiety.

“It’s okay Katsu.”

She nearly choked yet again at the affectionate pet name but found she couldn’t make a sound

Your eyes met her’s and she felt every inch of her body seize. They were glassy, tired, almost hollow as you peered at her. There was so much pain, complete exhaustion painted your face and twisting the innocence into something terrible.

Her stomach was drawn up in knots.

“You sure?”

Mitsuki didn’t even notice that Katsuki was already at your side until he spoke, his shoulders tensed.

Slowly nodding, you turned to her. Making the ache in her heart return at the deep pain in your soft eyes.

“My parents aren’t good people.” The melodic of your voice too sweet, too pure, for the words falling from your lips. “So he wanted me to be here instead of being…”

Trailing off and gripping at her son’s hand, you looked so tired.

As if you wanted to fall asleep and never get back up again.

A tightness welled in her throat, the sudden urge to cry came as you lifted your scarred fingers to touch the bruise. It marred you like a reminder, a reminder that not all children are blessed with good parents.

“Here.” Katsuki pressed the glass into your hands, touch so light as if he was scared he was going to break you.

Her aching chest could no longer take it, her lips trembling as she softly said, “Katsuki?”

He turned to look at her, moving in front of you. Making her heart warm yet hurt as it seemed like he was ready to protect you at any turn, even if it was against her. Even if he knew he didn’t need to, he felt the instinct to do just that.

“Bring your friend over whenever you want…”

Carmines met carmines as he held you, like you were something precious to him.

Which you were.

Just not in the way she thought.

A slight warmth filled her at the smile that pulled at your lips, eyes glimmering as you quietly thanked her. Speaking soft ‘good nights’, she watched your backs yet again as he led you up the stairs.

Katsuki was a good kid, despite his coarse front.

He found someone that he cared for.

He found someone he loved.

And you loved Katsuki too.

But…

There’s always different types of love.

Mitsuki was proud of her son and she was proud of you.

You were so strong.

#bnha #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugo katsuki #bakugo mitsuki #bakugo masaru #platonic #angst #//abuse #//physical abuse #gender neutral reader #dari writes #the brothers three series