#and the nail of his pointer finger is cut shorter than all others...
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" NO! Mr. Wilson PLEASE, please sit down. I wouldn't miss this case... for the world! "
Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes - The Red Headed League
#granada holmes#granada sherlock holmes#fanart#acd holmes#I LOVE THIS MAN#the red headed league#his nails are perfectly manicured#and the nail of his pointer finger is cut shorter than all others...#what might we deduce#no really#what#he is in love#with a doctor#with a moustache
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the tutor
if you know the original source of this picture! please dm me or let me know in my inbox so i can tag them
Summary: akaashi keiji isn’t just a normal tutor. in fact, he has strong, sexual feelings for the girl he has to tutor. but what he doesn’t know is that late at night, she thinks about him too while her fingers stuff her cunt
A/n: i did it. i actually did it. i took a short 300 word story about akaashi being a tutor and turned it into a fic. i hope that you all enjoy this. i tried to keep the same style while writing but i’m not sure if i nailed it :/ nevertheless, i hope that you enjoy and have a great 2021
Words: 2667
Pairings: tutor!akaashi x female!reader
Warnings: nsfw - male and female masturbation, oral (giving and receiving), vaginal penetration, sex toy use, fingering, riding, multiple positions, overstimulation, praise, akaashi calling reader angel
Just seeing you sitting there, your legs shut together, your tongue flicking out of your spread lips as you concentrated on the equation made Akaashi wonder what would happen if the two of you were in the bedroom alone together.
He watched your lips, wondering how you would look with your shiny pink lips wrapped around his cock. He wondered what you would look like, with your legs shaking, cum dripping down your thighs, hickeys decorating your skin as he pins you down onto the bed, his cock thrusting into your tight walls.
He wondered what pretty noises you would make as he ruins you, tears your tight hole open, leaving you a dripping mess filled with his cum. Thinking about the way your freshly done makeup would run down your face, the way you would close your legs to hide your body from his eyes.
Akaashi sat there, daydreaming in the open. He didn’t even realise that you had stopped working on the equation.
“All done? he asked.
Akaashi knew that you were a virgin, and he wanted to ruin you. He wanted to be the only guy you would go crawling to when you were needy, and that at moments late at night when you touched yourself, you would only think about him, and be reminded that you can’t even pleasure yourself the way Akaashi can. How Akaashi’s fingers could reach deeper in your cunt than your own, small ones.
“Yes! Give me something harder,” you wore a cheerful smile on your face as you asked for a harder equation.
Akaashi chuckled as he pretended to be thinking of an equation to give you. But secretly, he thought about how he wanted to throw everything on the table aside and give you a reward for doing so well.
“Alright, how about this one?” Akaashi asked, handing you back the piece of paper, seeing how your eyes widened at the question.
“I don’t know that…” you said softly, almost as if you sounded like you were trying to admit defeat to the male.
Akaashi could only chuckle, his hand slowly moving to rest on your soft thigh as he looked over your shoulder, watching how you took on the equation.
Your thigh was soft. So soft. He wondered what your thighs would feel like, wrapped around his neck as he went down on you, his soft tongue sliding over your dripping folds. Or the way your legs would wrap his waist, his cock pushing through your walls and tearing you apart as you squirm underneath him.
“Is this right?”
Once again, your soft, adorable voice cut through the lewd thoughts spreading throughout his mind. With his face resting with a smile, he turned to you. A chuckle escaped his lips as he read over the equation.
“Oh darling, that’s not correct. Here… let me help you.”
Akaashi loved being in your company. He loved the feeling of you being close to him, again, which only made him wonder what it would be like if he were inside of you, the two of you becoming one. He secretly craved so much from the small university girl that he tutored, so much that he would rather die than express his thoughts.
However, what Akaashi was oblivious of was what happened whenever he went home. After leaving, you would rush yourself to your bedroom, small fingers moving to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud, moans and whimpers of his name falling from your lips. Truth was, you craved Akaashi more than he craved you, if that was remotely anywhere near possible.
You imagined him in between your legs, his soft black locks brushing against your soft skin, his large hands keeping your thighs spread as your back arches from all the sudden pleasure. You craved the sight of your cum coating Akaashi’s beautiful face, the way he would lick his lips before pushing you into a position on the bed, beginning to fuck you with a slow, deep pace which would have you screaming out for him.
But you knew that would never happen.
He was just the boy who was assigned to tutor you, not to come and take you in every way possible.
Akaashi was the same way, sitting on his bed, his cock in his hand, jacking off to the thought of you spread out for him. He wanted to feel what it was like to have your soft hands roaming around his body, your soft lips wrapped around his cock, eyes directly watching his every movement as you take more of him into your mouth. Akaashi climaxed, his hair thrown back against the bed as he panted.
He wanted to be with you. He desired you, he wanted to feel you against him. The love that he felt was going unnoticed, the love that strongly sat there for you to run into his arms, pressing your lips against him as the two of you look at each other with such love.
The next tutor session was nothing new – not that it had changed at all. Overtime, the two of you had begun to get closer and closer. You were fine with Akaashi resting his large hand on your thigh, and you noticed how he would slowly move his hand higher. You even tried bucking your hips at him, wearing shorter clothing just to find a way to get him to touch you more.
Akaashi wanted to punish you for wearing short clothing, but he thought that somewhere there was the same feelings he felt for you rushing through your mind.
Every other session felt like the same day on repeat. The same hours of questions and work, only to pleasure yourself when Akaashi would go home.
You opened the door for Akaashi, believing it were to be just another normal day of the two of you working on equations together. Akaashi stood there, a large hoodie in the freezing cold. You began to shiver somewhere throughout the session, causing Akaashi to panic, pulling his hoodie from his body, revealing some of his muscles in the process, which only made you drool more at the sight of his toned body.
You inhaled the scent of his cologne on the hoodie, the way the jumper was too big for your small body, the way it sat halfway down your thighs. Akaashi loved the sight of you wearing his hoodie, even making a comment about how you should wear his hoodie more often. He knew that if he wanted this relationship to progress in anyway, he needed to start being more vocal, other than just sitting there and waiting for you to make the first move. He was smart enough to know that was never going to happen.
“You should wear it more often,” he whispered into your ear as you washed your hands in the bathroom.
Your eyes darted to the mirror, watching how he had to move himself, leaning down so he was able to whisper into your ear. The way his hand sat on the bathroom sink, his other hand, his pointer finger tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt his hot breath on your skin, squeezing your thighs shut to try and relive the ache that sat there.
Yet, once again, you waited for Akaashi to leave before you did anything.
You threw your head back as the vibrator sat on your clit on its highest setting. Akaashi’s hoodie you wore, bunched up at your waist. Your legs shook from the intense pleasure, back arching as cries of his name fell from your lips. You wanted it to be him, not some stupid toy. You could only imagine, pretending your fingers weren’t your own, that it was Akaashi holding the toy on your clit, looking down at you as you squirmed on the bed.
Akaashi was no better, because every night, he thought the same.
The next time was different. You gave Akaashi back his hoodie, but he told you to keep it, only causing you to blush. He knew that the two of you could never be a real couple, so he tried what he could do to make it seem as if the two of you were one.
Days progressed.
Akaashi sat anxiously in his seat, watching how you walked into the room, dressed in his large blue hoodie. Akaashi knew that he wanted you, and he could only think that you wanted him too. He watched as you moved over to him, sitting yourself down in his lap, legs on either side of him as you push your breasts to his chest, head resting in the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around him. Akaashi’s first instinct was to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you close. He could feel your panties against his thin shorts, wondering what you were wearing underneath the large hoodie.
“What’s the matter, angel?” the nickname made your panties wet.
You grinded your hips on his lap. Akaashi took in a sharp breath, not wanting to become hard for nothing.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that,” he mumbled against your skin.
You knew what you were doing. In fact, it had been what you had been planning for ages now. You wanted Akaashi to be the one to take your virginity, you were sure of it.
“Take me… Akaashi. I want you to take me,” you let your lips graze the skin of his neck, sucking lightly on his beautiful skin.
You felt him become hard underneath you, your panties growing damper as you moved your hips. Akaashi wasn’t having it, pulling you from him and watching how you dropped down onto your knees in front of him.
Shaking his head, he mumbled a soft, “Not here.”
You nodded, softly holding his hand and taking him upstairs to the same place you had sinful thoughts about him and did sinful things while moaning out his name. He watched as you pushed him down onto the bed, climbing over him. You rested yourself in between Akaashi’s thighs, spreading them to your liking. Shaky fingers moved to his belt, pulling it off and throwing it to the ground, tugging his pants, as well as his boxers down his legs. Akaashi took in a deep breath as the sight he dreamed of appeared before his turquoise coloured eyes.
He watched as you took the tip of his semi hard cock into your mouth, moving his hands to your hair, wrapping it around his hand, tugging slightly, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. You gagged slightly, but continued to suck him off, letting your tongue run along his most sensitive spots.
“Fuck, y-you don’t know how long I’ve b-been waiting for this,” he groaned out, watching how you maintained eye contact with him while having his cock shoved down your throat.
Akaashi let go of your hair, tucking it slightly behind your ear. He grabbed onto the bedsheets for support, moans falling from his lips that he wasn’t afraid to show. He bucked his hips up into your mouth, causing you to gag around him once more.
“That’s a good fucking girl,” he muttered, stroking your hair slowly, “Taking me in your mouth like the good girl that you are.”
At one moment, Akaashi’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he climaxed into your mouth. He watched as you pulled yourself off his cock, watching as you swallowed his cum, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show that you had.
Akaashi flipped you over, praising you, calling you a good girl as he shoved the hoodie up, letting it bunch at your waist. He noticed the red lace panties which sat underneath, his eyes widening when he noticed the damp spot in the middle, right where your dripping cunt was. He pulled his hoodie from your body, removing his shirt so he was fully naked. His eyes widened, seeing the matching red lace bra that you wore.
Akaashi’s fingers were skilled, easily removing your panties and bra. His lips moved to suck around your hardened nipple. His lips sucked dark, purple marks down your soft skin. Your body was softer than he thought it was. He loved the way you felt, the way your innocent demeanour changed when the two of you were alone.
His lips attached to your clit, a cry of his name leaving his lips as he began to suck lightly on your most sensitive spot. His fingers toyed with your entrance, collecting your wetness on his long digits. He needed to prep you for when he was to fuck you.
Lust and the way your tight velvety walls clenched around Akaashi’s digits filled his mind, the way your hands gripped onto the sheets, your hips would move and how angelic you sounded when you cried out his name. He wanted more. He needed more.
“Kaashi’ I’m gonna fucking cum… O-Oh, you’re gonna m-make me fucking cum.”
That’s what he did. He made you climax all over his digits, his tongue now dipping down to your entrance to taste you.
The two of you were stripped of your clothing, looking at each other with lust filled eyes. Akaashi pulled you closer to him, attaching his lips to yours, sharing a soft, passionate kiss.
“Where are your condoms?” he mumbled in between kisses.
“Top drawer on the left.”
Akaashi climbed off the bed, opening the drawer. He observed the small bullet vibrator he found, bringing it out along with one of the condoms. He slipped the condom onto his length, hovering over you.
“Tell me if you need me to stop.”
Yes, there was a slight pain when he thrusted into you, but it felt too good. Pain was washed away with the pleasure of being filled, the pleasure of having Akaashi’s lips on your neck as you moaned underneath him.
“F-Faster,” you moaned out slightly, wanting to be pounded into by the boy.
Akaashi wouldn’t take no as an answer, not when he’s here fucking the girl he’s always wanted to. Slowly, he increased the speed, grabbing hold of your vibrator and pressing it against your clit. You cried out, cursing at the way the boy found your favourite toy and decided to use it against you.
His hands reached out for the headboard, grabbing onto it as he quickened his pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth as drool dripped down your chin.
A sharp cry left your lips as you climaxed again, this time, around his cock. You felt Akaashi pull out of you, throwing the toy onto the bed.
“Ride me.”
His voice was harsh, commanding you, not giving you any options.
You straddled his waist once again, feeling his cock enter you from now a completely different angle. Your hands rested around his neck, as his sat on your waist and guided you up and down his cock.
Your head was thrown back as Akaashi moved his to suck lightly on your nipples. Intense pleasure soared through your body as you were driven to your third climax of the night. Your body felt weak, unable to move on its own.
Instead, Akaashi pulled out of you once more, shoving your back down on the bedsheets, moving your legs to sit on his shoulders as he entered you once again. His hand intertwined with yours as he mumbled against your skin,
“Cum with me.”
And that’s what happened. The two of you climaxed at the same time, just like how the characters did in every smut you had read. He pulled out, watching how your cum dripped from your abused hole. He smirked, moving his fingers to your hole, stuffing your cum back into your body.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.”
You could now say, that every tutoring session, you two studied each other’s bodies.
© all content belongs to akaashisbabygirl 2020, do not repost or change
#haikyuu#haikyuu smut#haikyuu writing#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#akaashi keiji imagine#akaashi keiji x reader#akaashi keiji#akaashi smut#akaashi x reader
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Could you describe what each of the ros look like and what they usually wear? Loved the game and I also think you are very sweet.😚💕
//asdasda stopppp!! you anons are the sweet ones!! omgg... no there aren’t tears in my eyes hnnng 💖 💖
Finlay is a statuesque Fyvar whose features are very angular. With sharp cheekbones, a narrow chin, and a wide jawline, they are often described as rather attractive, almost hero-like in the way they glower down at their enemies. They have a wide, flat nose between evenly spaced, narrowed, golden eyes and often furrowed red eyebrows. Their plump lips are often painted, on occasion, in dark shades of purples and reds.
They keep their flaming red-orange hair pulled back into a ponytail of soft, corkscrew curls. Twin braids, usually braided in their spare time, dangle against their sharp jawline and draw emphasis to their downward, sharp, pointed ears. Finlay comes to a height of 6'7" or 200.66 cm, they are about as tall as their race comes with a well-muscled, defined build from years of training and travel.
They tend to dawn gleaming armor the color of snow with the church's spiraling insignia emblazoned on the flattened chest piece. When not wearing their armor, they tend to prefer loose shirts, well-fitted athletic pants, form-fitting, thin shoes. On occasion, they will don a cropped tank top and chest binder (read: sports bra).
Lesilfae is a lean, figure with an average (if a bit softer) build. He tends to emphasize his sharp features by highlighting makeup and line his eyes with kohl. His cheekbones are soft, rising gently from his thin cheeks and tend to push his eyes upwards into a cat-like stare. His nose is Romanesque, broad and strong, with a sharp cupid's bow leading to average-looking lips, pulled into a false, thin smile. His lavender (sometimes thistle) color eyebrows appear plucked and gently shaped, giving him an ethereal, almost strange appearance. Two eyes, the color of jade, watch their patrons and customers with barely concealed pleasure.
Lesilfae keeps his hair in a long, immaculate, asymmetrical cut -- one-half long enough to brush his shoulder but the other half short enough to tickle his jaw. His hair is naturally straight but when wet, will curl ever so slightly. He has small, downward pointed ears as is custom for his race, with four thin arms. He keeps his hands soft with lotions and rubs, keeping his nails short and neat. He is on the shorter height spectrum for his race, coming at a solid 6'4" or 193 cm.
He tends to wear snuggly fitted vests with wide lapels, often of rich coloring, and fitted pants with heeled boots. Will, every so often, wear older, well-worn shirts and pants when he doesn't feel well. He has slightly, naturally tanned skin.
Galeon is a broad, bulky figure with long legs. His arms are well-muscled to the point that he often has to go sleeveless due to most sleeved shirts leaving him feeling restrained. He towers over his race at a shocking, 6'11" or 210.82 cm!! His body, while soft, is similar to that of a bodybuilder, muscled but with a healthy cushion of fat. He likes to keep his loose curls free and shaggy, often draping down over his eyebrows, and tangling gently with his long eyelashes. He's always smiling with his thin lips, cracked due to lack of proper hydration and heat. His nose, similar to Lesilfae's, is Romanesque, large, and hooked as though it had been broken at some point.
Galeon has a wide jawline, low cheekbones, and downward angled, almost sad-looking grey eyes, which are often narrowed by thick, messy fern-green eyebrows. His arms and hands are littered with scars, gained from his many years of healing the unfortunate ill. He has large, downward pointed ears, though one has a somewhat noticeable fold to its tip.
He has a preference for loose-fitting, sleeveless shirts with long armholes, that often expose his ribcage and stomach when viewed from the side. Galeon will also sometimes wear thin bandages around his chest and wound up his arms. He wears pants similar to drop-crotch pants, he finds them very comfortable and easy to move in! He has rich dark brown skin that’s darker than Lesilfae’s, but lighter than Finlay’s.
Hollond is a slim, short figure with a ballet dancer's build. Despite their short height, they have long arms with three-fingered (pointer, modified pinkie, and thumb) hands. Galeon often jokes that they are ''all legs and no height'', which is... pretty true. They have long thin legs, a smaller torso as is typical of Ynen. Their skin is a shade of icy, blue that darkens to green shade on their cheeks and nose when they blush. They come to the incredibly short, but average for their race, height of 4'9" or 144.78 cm. Hollond likes to keep their pearlescent (or white-blonde) hair loose, long (typically long enough to brush their ankles), and silky!
They have a flat nose that is level with their forehead (kinda like da2 elves??) with small, circular eyebrows often bent with disdain above shockingly blue irises and black sclera. They have thin, natural black lips and flat, herbivorous teeth. Their ears are often hidden by their hair, and sit naturally against their skull (as is typical).
Hollond prefers wearing tight, flexible leggings with a loose, billowing top that is sometimes tucked into an underbust corset. They have a flat chest, wider hips, and lean legs. Like their siblings (and quite a few other Ynen), they appear androgynous! Enjoys wearing nightgowns to sleep and around the home!!
Greta is a chubby gal with a thicker build!! Similar to Galeon, she's got a bit of a body-builder thing going on, where she's got a healthy amount of fat covering her muscle! Like her multicolored, luminous race, her skin is a shade of pastel/blush-pink with orange freckles dashed across her cheeks, nose, and shoulders. She's of average height for her race, coming to an easy 5'4" (or 5'3" depending on the day) or 162 cm! She likes to keep her cherry-red hair in a wavy, almost curly, jaw-length bob!
She has an adorable button nose, chubby, kissable cheeks, and large, violet-colored eyes. She has rounded eyebrows usually tilted upwards and a mischievous, plump-lipped smile! Her ears are long and feathered the same color as her hair. She likes to decorate her ears and hair in shiny pendants and clips, usually preferring them to be gold-gilded.
She likes to wear billowing shorts that tighten around her mid-thigh, loose shirts that she tucks into her pants, and a short, elbow-length cloak (often decorated with pins)! She enjoys wearing dresses and skirts when she's with her family or friends! Her fashion aesthetic? Cute AF!!
#asks#answered#long post#character appearance descriptions#clothes descriptions#fuck i love greta so gd much#asadsad#biased#I admit it!!#jkjk#chara: galeon hughes#chara: hollond ovara#chara: lesilfae#chara: greta#chara: finlay
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The next right thing [Levi X grieving reader]
Word count: 2016
warning: sad, angst, fluff
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I've seen dark before, but not like this
This is cold, this is empty, this is numb
We made our way towards the walls on horseback, an eerie silence fell over us all, the sky was clouded a deep depressing gray with rain pouring down heavily. Another failed mission. all those deaths, for what? my entire squad had been whipped out, one of them being my best friend.
If I had just been a little faster I could have saved them. Why me? why did I get to live? It should have been me. things will never be the same again, I hate this
The life I knew is over, the lights are out
Hello, darkness, I'm ready to succumb
I would never see her smile again, hear her laugh, she had been my best friend for as long as I can remember, she was the strong one, she always defended me and what did she get in return? I let her die.
how would I look the parents of my dead squad mates in the eye and tell them their child died because of me? I can't. I don't have it in me
This guilt was tearing my very being apart. I joined the scouts with so much hope and courage, only to get slapped in the face with the harsh reality of it, this is a place where all hope went to die. this was like signing your own death contract.
I follow you around, I always have
But you've gone to a place I cannot find
I looked at all the faces around me, they wore the exact same expression as me, even the more experienced scouts. I noticed captain Levi not to far on my right, he wore his signature stoic look across his features.
I wonder how he held it together so well, somewhere deep down he had to be hurting, after all, he was only human but even after losing his two best friends and his entire squad he still stood strong.
This grief has a gravity, it pulls me down
he must have noticed my staring as he turned, looking straight into my eyes, I made no move to look away, his eyes held so much pain, I could tell, he looked defeated, you both looked at each other with a mutual understanding, silently acknowledging each others pain.
you had only spoken a handful of words to the man but you had tremendous respect for him. you admired him deeply. he was the first to break eye contact as he focused his attention up front. we had now reached the gates.
My gut wrenched in fear, I felt sick to my stomach. we were scoffed at and belittled. If only they knew what it was like. I kept my head down eyes looking forward, blocking out everything around me, everything sounded distant, barley able to make out any words.
But a tiny voice whispers in my mind
You are lost, hope is gone
It didn't last long as my horse came to a halt, a person stood in front "you're Malcom's friend right? (y/n), do you know where he is?" I gave her a blank stare, my throat felt like sandpaper, unable to utter a word.
She furrowed her brows "where is he" she said in a more serious tone. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. images of my squad mates mangled bodies flashed trough my mind again, I couldn't formulate a response as shame and guilt tormented my heart.
by this point she was becoming hysterical "where is he?! weren't you supposed to protect him?!" she cried. I had nothing but his cloak, I handed her it with a heavy heart, unable to look her in the eye
she began yelling profanities at me as I continued on my way. Levi still rode beside me, he had stopped as well and watching the whole scene that had just unfolded. there wasn't anything that could be said to make the situation better but in his mind she didn't have to grieve alone.
he had been watching for a while but he never made a move to talk to her. she wasn't like most people, she usually kept to her self, always around some other girl, like they were attached by the hip, they were polar opposites, this made her more interesting,
it was like she hid in her shadow, no one seemed to notice, but he did.
But you must go on
And do the next right thing
We continued to walk in silence for a few moments until I just couldn't hold it in anymore. "I'm such a coward" I said, barley above a whisper. tears brimming my eyes "I feel so sad it hurts" I whimpered
Levi watched her with deep sorrow, he understood her pain, he also understood that there was nothing he could do to take the pain away. "I know, but you're only human, not a coward" he paused giving her a more steady look "it wasn't your fault" he said softly.
your eyes widened slightly, tears now steaming down your blood stained cheeks. "I could have saved them" she said. "you tried, their deaths weren't on you but you can give them meaning, their memories lay within you, carry the torch"
I was speechless, his words really stuck with my heart, I gave him a grim nod. riding in silence again for the rest of the journey.
Can there be a day beyond this night?
I don't know anymore what is true
I dismounted my horse wincing slightly as my joints ached. I trudged towards the stables, petting my horses main softly, removing the saddle from her back. I left her some food and water before making my exit
I didn't get far as I bumped into toned chest, almost knocking me off my feet. I looked up to see the corporal looking down at me, I gave him a tired salute, all my energy drained from my body "sorry sir"
he waved me off. "just call me Levi" it brought the smallest hint of a smile to my face. "just call me (y/n) then, not cadet" he gave a soft smile in return. he turned on his heel as I followed not far behind
I can't find my direction, I'm all alone
The only star that guided me was you
"do you mind if I stay with you for a while? I just don't want to be alone right now" I don't know what came over me, I was never one to be so straight forward, we hardly spoke but I felt safe around him "I could help you with paper work, or clean, I just don't want to think about things right now" I sighed, looking down at my boots.
"of course" he said as we continued to walk. "and you don't have to do any chores, we've done enough today" he continued still walking
my mind wandered back towards my best friend, the last words she ever said were 'help me' I felt another pang of pain in my chest, my bottom lip trembling. this isn't how it was supposed to be.
How to rise from the floor?
But it's not you I'm rising for
Levi held the door open for you, upon entering you were impressed with how clean and tidy it was, you heard the door click behind you, Levi disappeared into his bedroom, giving you some time to wander around.
His desk was well organized, papers and pencils aliened perfectly, you couldn't fight the urge to turn them squint, smirking as you did so.
"fix that"
you shrieked, turning round to punch the corporal right in the chest out of reflex. he stood there unfazed. you paled "o-oh I'm sorry sir I didn-" he cut me off "Levi" he corrected "right, yeah.. Levi" you blushed ever so slightly. you noticed he'd changed out of his straps and blood stained clothes.
he looked good, better than that. you didn't let your mind linger for long as he passed you some folded up clothes "go get changed into them, once you've fixed my pens" he said in his usual monotone voice.
you scoffed, giving him a defiant look, leaving the pens a mess, you swiftly shut the door behind you. he stood there looking at the closed door for a moment with amusement in his eyes.
Just do the next right thing
Take a step, step again
It is all that I can to do
His room was absolutely spotless and I mean spotless, his bed sheets didn't have a single crease. his room smelled like mint and tea, it was relaxing. you unfolded the clothes he had given you in your hands, a t-shirt and sweat pants, not bad.
I removed my straps then my bloody ragged clothes, relieve washing over me as I headed into his bathroom to take a shower. washing away todays trauma
But break it down to this next breath, this next step
This next choice is one that I can make
you stepped out into his office with your hair damp and disheveled. he looked up at you from his desk chair and had to do a double take. his clothes hugged your figure perfectly.
you walked over and sat in the chair across from his desk. why was he doing this? why was he being so kind? I didn't deserve this. I should at least try comfort him as well
"are you okay? .. after everything today?" I asked softly, playing with the hem of his shirt. "no, we all lost someone dear to us, and I know you have today as well, I'm sorry" he said his voiced laced with sadness.
I looked down into my lap, tears brimming my eyes yet again. "how am I supposed to carry on without her? she's all I had" you whimpered, attempting to wipe the tears away from your eyes. Levi was by your side in an instant, he extended his hand out to yours which you accepted. standing up to face him.
you were the only person in the survey core whom was shorter than the captain. you gazed up into his eyes as he heled your small trembling hands in his.
So I'll walk through this night
Stumbling blindly toward the light
"You're not alone. you'll always have someone" he mumbled into your hair, pulling you close to his chest. "who?" you asked in a shaky voice, clutching his shirt.
he pulled away placing his pointer finger under your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.
"me"
And do the next right thing
And, with it done, what comes then?
you felt your heart swell with a new found hippieness. your eyes darted from his lips then back to his eyes. he smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist, he crashed his lips onto yours, you melted into it instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck
you both battled for dominance but you eventually gave in, letting him win, he pushed his hand up the back of your shirt, softly scratching his nails across your back, earning a shiver and a soft gasp of surprise.
you broke apart as he wore a smug smile while you blushed profusely. he kissed you one more time on the forehead as he turned around, your hand still in his, he led you both into his bed.
When it's clear that everything will never be the same again
Then I'll make the choice to hear that voice
You laid with your back pressed comfortably against his chest. his hand laced with yours. "Levi, don't leave me" I whispered. "I'm not going anywhere.. promise you'll never leave me" he said, his voice low as he buried his face into your soft hair.
"I wont" you smiled, bringing his hand up to kiss it reassuringly. he pulled you closer into his chest, "I'll make sure you don't" he mumbled into your hair. you smiled once again. feeling nothing but love and safety, it wasn't long before you drifted off into a soft slumber in the warmth of Levi's embrace.
maybe you could be each others salvation. he would protect you no matter what. is this what love feels like?"
And do the next right thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this is a song from frozen 2 but it just hits different when you're high, oops, hahaha. anyway, i hope you enjoyed!
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To Bake A Butler A Cake
A Batfamily Story!
This piece was done by the lovely @livia-art ! Y’all might recognize her from our other collaboration ‘How Rare And Beautiful It Is That We Exist’! Make sure you go follow her and reblog all her art because she definitely deserves it! (If you zoom in on the refrigerator, the note is hilarious!) We hope you enjoy this, because we (Liv (all I did was type lol)) worked really hard on this! -Thorne <3
It shouldn’t be this hard to bake a cake, he thinks, but as he looks between the ingredients and utensils, the stress is beginning to overwhelm him. It must’ve shown on his face, because there’s a grunt beside him, and the next thing he knows, the cookbook is being ripped out of his hands. “Jesus Christ Bruce. We’re baking a cake, not performing rocket science.” Instantly, the confusion is replaced by annoyance, and he turns to stare at Jason, the words flowing before he can stop them.
“Well for your information Jay, rocket science is actually something I can do.” All Jason returns is a shit-eating grin, placing a hand on his shoulder, gently shoving him out of the way. Bruce relents, stepping a few feet away, and takes a moment to look at his second oldest. Side by side, Bruce is the tallest, but Jason’s only a couple inches shorter. In an instance, he feels old, images of a hunched-over old man cross his mind, tall sons surrounding him, and a grimace forms on his face as he thinks about pulling a Ra’s and staying young…and tall. Laughter draws him from his thoughts, and he turns his gaze to the island where Dick is hanging on one of Jason’s arms, pointing into the book.
“Oh, come on! Alfie likes red velvet cake!” Jason pays Dick no mind, teal eyes scanning the page of the book as he absentmindedly replies,
“We’re baking a chocolate cake Dick.” A pout takes over the eldest’s face and he moves off his brother, sprawling over the counter, whining,
“But why?” Jason’s eyes dart to his brother, staring at him for a moment before he glances at his father and deadpans,
“You raised this thing. I hope you know that.” The truth in his words is all it takes to make Bruce snort and nod, grin widening as he listens to Dick sputter something along the lines of, ‘what’s that supposed to mean?!’ Jason glances back at the book, then leans over, placing the book in front of Tim’s face above his phone. “Read this.” Cerulean eyes narrow into a glare as Tim looks up from his phone to stare at Jason, who simply nods to the book. “You retain anything you read. Do this and we won’t have to worry about looking back at the book a bunch of times.” Tim huffs and pulls the book from his hands, and in a flash, closes it and repeats,
“One box of cake mix, three eggs, one cup of oil, one cup of milk, and one vanilla packet. Frosting needs one container of whip cream, one package of cream cheese, one cup of powdered sugar, and four chocolate bars.” He doesn’t even stop to breathe, the words still coming out of his mouth like rapid firing bullets. “Mix the cake ingredients and bake at-” A hand clamps over his mouth and he glances up at Dick, wide eyed.
“Tim, little brother. For the love of god, take a breath.” To emphasize his point, Dick makes a serious face and breathes in deeply; the action makes Tim roll his eyes, but nevertheless, he does the same, taking in a good lungful of air. The hand falls away from his mouth and Dick moves behind him, resting his chin atop Tim’s head as he asks, “So why are we making Alfie a cake again?” This time, it’s not Jason giving the reasoning, but Damian, who hops onto the counter, pulling the metal bowl into his lap, legs crossed in front of him.
“Because Pennyworth has successfully served the Wayne family for forty years, and we are celebrating it.” He levels Dick with a glower and bites, “Pay better attention Richard.” Damian pauses, but can’t help to add, “Drake is supposed to be the imbecile in this family.” Dick hums, reaching out to grab the arm Tim is slinging in his younger brother’s direction, and replies,
“Kiddo, I just got here five minutes ago. I missed the game plan.” Damian’s follow-up is cut off by Jason, who retorts,
“I don’t really think you can get out of this one considering the fact that we’ve been talking about this for a whole month now Dickiebird.” Their eldest’s mouth flops open and closed as he flounders like a fish for a response. Jason looks up at him and flashes him a grin, partly telling him that he’s joking, but the other part telling him he’s hit the nail on the head; Dick stands up straight, shrugging nonchalantly.
“I forget things easily. You can’t blame me for that one.” Tim spares a glance towards Bruce and questions seriously,
“Are you sure he’s the one you want to leave the Batman mantle to? Batman isn’t supposed to forget things.” Laughter echoes through the kitchen as Dick raises his hands above his head in defeat, crying,
“What is this? Crap on Dick day?” He’s not too occupied in his hysteria, because he catches the whisk Jason tosses at him.
“Don’t know about you Dickiebird, but everyday is ‘Crap on Dick Day’.” Tim and Damian let out snickers as they watch Dick pout, but Bruce simply reaches over, ruffling his hair.
“It’s okay Dick. I still love you son.” The smile that crosses his lips is nothing short of superior as he sticks his tongue out at his brothers. He stops as Bruce nudges him, and Bruce looks back at Jason, an easy look on his face as he says, “Well Jaybird…let’s bake a cake.”
An Hour Later:
It. Should. Not. Be. This. Hard. To. Bake. A. Cake. He thinks as he cradles his head in his hands, listening to the screeches sound in the kitchen. The last time he looked around, chocolate batter had been splattered across the kitchen cabinets and all four of his sons had engaged in a friendly discussion (enemy confrontation). Bruce chances a glance up and stares in shock as he watches his two youngest and two oldest in two separate fights.
Tim’s got Damian curled into a headlock, one arm wrapped around his head, the other reaching for the bowl that Damian’s holding away from him. “Let go of me Drake! You get the spoon! It’s my turn to have the bowl!” Tim flails for the batter-bowl and retorts,
“Oh yeah?! Says who?!” If Damian could bite Tim, he’d be sinking his teeth into pale skin, but since he can’t, he thrashes wildly, trying to be free of him.
“Says me! Let go!” Bruce shifts his eyes to Dick and Jason, who are bent over the counter, Jason’s palm pressed up against Dick’s cheek as he keeps him at arm’s length.
“Fuck off Dickhead! I’m icing the cake!” The whine that tears from Dick’s throat reminds him of the dinosaur calls from the museum exhibits, and he watches as Dick pulls at the icing bag in Jason’s hand.
“I have the better designing ability!”
“The hell you do! Remember Discowing?! Trash!” A grin spreads on Bruce’s lips at the insult, but it quickly forms into a frown as Dick snaps back,
“This coming from the person who wears a giant red helmet on his head! Jerk!”
“Bitch!” The contemplation to jump in crosses his mind, but before he can get to it, a shadow falls across the doorway and an accented voice cuts over the yelling.
“What. On. Earth. Is going on in my kitchen?!” Everyone is frozen in their spots as they direct their gazes to the kitchen’s entrance, seeing Alfred standing there, a mixture of anger and wonder etched across his face. Somehow, the universal signal has gone off in his son’s heads as they immediately let go of one another, pointer fingers directed back at Bruce. They aren’t looking, so they can’t see the look of betrayed shock that’s taken over his features, but one look from Alfred has him sweating in his house slippers as he sputters,
“We were making you a cake to honor your service to the family, but it’s not really service, because you’re not just a butler to our family Alfred. You’re so much more than that. You’re a father and grandfather, and I don’t think any of us would be who we are today if it wasn’t for you.” There’s a moment of hesitation before Bruce adds quietly, “Especially me.” The anger in Alfred’s gaze dissipates in a flash, replaced with a soft look as he glances between his family and asks,
“You did this…for me?” The smiles they give him could’ve beat the sun’s brightness by a mile as they nod, and Alfred breaks into one of his own. “Thank you, my boys…truly…thank you.” All the reflexes in the world couldn’t prepare him for the tidal wave of grandsons that slam into him, arms wrapping all around him. The shock shifts to warmth as he holds onto his family, and as he opens his eyes, he sees his only son standing behind his family. Alfred holds out his hand and murmurs, “I might be the glue that holds us all together, but you’re the key piece Master Bru-son.”
If anyone had asked, it was a piece of dust that caught in Bruce’s eyes and made them water. But no one would ask, because it wasn’t important to differentiate. There was love in their family; the favorite butler and a chocolate cake could prove it.
#dc fanart#dc fanfiction#batfamily imagines#batfamily fanfiction#batfamily imagine#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#tim drake#red robin#damian wayne#robin#alfred pennyworth#dc comics#dc imagine#dc imagines#dc fanfic#batfamily#batfamily fanfic#batfamily fic#batfamily fanart
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Burning Desire
Welcome to the smut fic I was telling y’all about!
So this shit isn’t as long on Tumblr... I think. Anyway, I was too lazy to separate it, and also I felt that if I were to cut it it’d lose something and you’d get mad (you’ll see why). So here’s the whole damn thing. It’s gonna have a sequel. Btw, this isn’t going on FF.net as usual because it violates the site’s regulations. But you’re gonna find it here. Also, first time writing major smut. It’s basically practice and it was fun to write. Feel free to give me pointers.
So, here it is! Hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Tired of their unfulfilling marriages, Ichigo and Rukia find solace in fantasies. But maybe those fantasies can actually become a reality.
WARNING: There are IH/RR scenes in here. Needless to say, it’s sorta canon compliant. Yes, I hated writing them but it was necessary. No, it’s not pretty. Feel free to skim through them. Sorry if you find the characters too OOC. Specially an Ichigo and Ori bit totally inspired by The Lust Arc. This is just a headcanon of mine of why their marriages wouldn’t work among other things. Again, sorry if this content bothers you in any way.
Also, trigger warning for violence and forced sex
As Renji pulled away from her, Rukia glared at the ceiling. Her husband didn’t notice, of course. He lay down next to her, a satisfied smile on his face. Rukia wished she could feel the same way, but the ache between her legs told her otherwise. Renji didn’t say anything else. In fact, he didn’t do anything else. Tired by their earlier activities, he closed his eyes and, in no time, he started snoring. She turned to look at him, this time directly glaring at him. The nerve of him! How could he sleep so soundly while she felt so uncomfortable? Huffing, she decided she was not getting any sleep until she took care of her needs. Standing up, she opened the shoji door of her room and exited. Tiptoeing so as to not wake her husband and daughter, Rukia went to the bathroom. Closing the door, she sat down, deciding to take care of the matter at hand. As her fingers moved, she let her mind wander.
Rukia had been innocent on her wedding day. She had no idea how many brides in the Soul Society actually had this achievement, but she could say that she had arrived virgin to the altar. It wasn’t because she thought having sexual relations before marriage was a sin, it’s just she had never given it any thought. Yes, she had touched herself before, bringing herself to unknown pleasures. But there is just so much you can do while living in the Kuchiki Manor. Rukia knew that, had the servants ever heard her, the other nobles would have never let her live it down. She had been single for most of her life too. Renji had been the only man she had courted. During those early days, after the war, they had found solace in each other at a spiritual level, talking in hushed whispers when the nightmares were too much. Soon, those late-night talks turned to holding hands to kissing, and before Rukia knew it, Renji had proposed. She had said yes without a second thought. And yet… he had never touched her inappropriately. He had restrained himself during every kiss. Rukia hadn’t known how to communicate she wanted more, for she had been incredibly inexperienced in relationships. She could have asked her friends, god knew that Rangiku would have given her more than enough information, but embarrassment had stopped her before she could ask.
She had been innocent on her wedding day. She had arrived to their shared room on her wedding night not being sure what to expect. Renji had remedied that. Like a dog in heat, he had pounced on her, stripping her of her beautiful kimono. In no time, she had been naked, completely at his mercy. He had covered her body with kisses, and his hands had fondled everywhere, yet, it hadn’t been enough to make her insane. Before Rukia could even say anything, his cock had made its way into her with enough force to rip her open. It had stung. And not in the good kind of way. It had been painful and uncomfortable. She hadn’t been able to enjoy herself. It had been soon over too. He had rolled over her, drenched in sweat. He had held her then. Gentle, as opposed to how he had been a few minutes before. Kissing her forehead, he had fallen asleep, leaving her wide awake and frustrated.
Rukia would like to say things got better as their marriage progressed, but she would be lying. In the eight years they had been married, their nights together always followed the same pattern. Her husband would go into their room feeling frisky. They would undress, and he would kiss and touch her everywhere except where she needed him to. Renji wouldn’t let her play. Whenever she tried to grab him or tease him, he would get mad. Then, when he deemed it was enough foreplay for the night, he’d push her on her back, open her legs, and slam himself into her. She was never wet enough or content enough. If Rukia wanted a change of pace, he’d put her on all fours, and fuck her from behind. She could never be on top. She figured it had probably something to do with his macho ego that wanted to be always in control. Renji never wanted to spice things up. For him, it was enough. For Rukia, it never was. He wanted to hear nothing of changing locations or trying other positions. They had what Rangiku would call “vanilla sex.” It got worse when she got pregnant. Renji didn’t even want to touch her out of fear of hurting their unborn child. Once Ichika was born, they got back to it, but now they were even more careful. They couldn’t moan loudly in case they woke their daughter. Morning activities were soon forgotten. As their little girl grew older, Rukia thought they’d find more time for themselves. It wasn’t the case. Renji considered anything outside of the norm unbefitting of someone of her status. All her ideas were ignored and their nights ended pretty much like this one, with Renji asleep and Rukia masturbating in the bathroom.
It was crude, to push her fingers inside of her while her husband and child slept. It was even worse when she found traces of his seed inside of her and she felt nothing but anger. Anger that he could release so easily while she couldn’t. Anger that they had to do what he wanted. Anger and exhaustion of having her needs ignored. Her anger opened a door she always tried to keep close. She let her mind wander to her forbidden fantasies. Images about her being pushed to a wall flashed in her mind. She moved her fingers faster. Rukia could see herself, being pushed against the wall of her office, a man’s lips tracing wet kisses on her jaw, cheeks, and neck. His lips moving lower and lower, until they reached their breasts. He would leave blazing red marks on all skin available. The thought made her insane. She pushed a finger inside. She saw him then. The man, getting tired of her clothes, ripping them off of her body, exposing her flesh to the cold. Rukia would follow suit, opening his robes to reveal a well-defined body underneath, tanned skin sparkling under the late evening sun. She would roam her hands all over his abs, descending until reaching the hem of his pants. Then, she would free him from the prison of his underwear, grabbing him in her hands. Her actions would elicit groans and moans from him. She would pick up the pace. “Rukia.” He would whisper huskily, breathlessly in her ear, lips licking and biting her breasts. Having had enough, he would put a finger in her core, teasing her. She pushed a second finger inside. She’d moan louder. He would pump her, making her wet enough to drip down. His slick fingers making their way into where she needed him most. And then, he would pull her legs apart, making his way into her, torturously slow. Her head would hit the wall, back arching until he was fully sheathed. She pushed a third finger. He would proceed to fuck her thoroughly. His hands on her ass, lips on her neck and breasts. Her legs would wrap around him. Her nails would dig themselves into his skin. Both moaning loudly. He would put a finger in her clit suddenly, driving her to the brink of insanity. Rukia would tug on his hair almost painfully, as she’d feel her release coming. She would orgasm hard, unabashedly. It wouldn’t be over. He would make sure she kept coming. His stamina would allow them to keep going. He would turn her around, taking her from behind, slamming fast inside. He would fondle her breasts, reciting her name like a prayer. She would come again. He would turn her around once more, cock going into her once more. Her head would roll on his chest, as she would keep moaning. When it was time for him to come, he’d slam his lips on hers, pulling her closer to his chest. The action would result in her final orgasm.
Rukia let herself slip into this fantasy. So what if the lips which kissed her, and the hands that touched her weren’t her husbands? So what if the man’s skin wasn’t covered in tattoos? So what if the hair she grabbed was shorter and lighter? Nothing mattered. Even less when her imagination and fingers combined gave her the most pleasure she had ever felt. She moaned loudly, almost screamed, not even bothering to cover her mouth. Let Renji find out for all she cared.
Once the high was over, Rukia found herself practically laying on her bathroom floor, hair disheveled, ragged breath, red breasts and wet all over.
She smiled in satisfaction.
With shaky legs, Rukia picked herself up. She tiptoed back to her room, putting a robe to cover her nakedness. As gently as possible, she laid down next to her husband, who was still snoring, oblivious to what she had just done. She covered herself with her sheets, and closed her eyes. Before drifting to sleep, Rukia couldn’t help but wish that fantasy of hers could, one day, become a reality.
Ichigo couldn’t sleep. He should feel tired after what had transpired between his wife and himself. In fact, Orihime was fast asleep next to him, snoring softly. If he had been any other husband, he would have smiled at the adorable scene, kissed her head, and gone to sleep, holding her tightly in his arms. He wasn’t that kind of husband, though. The image of his wife sleeping after being spent brought him nothing but guilt as it had done so for the past six years or so. A voice inside his head kept reminding he had done something wrong, keeping him awake. It surely didn’t help that his cock throbbed painfully, even after his earlier activities. Deciding he was not going to get sleep any time soon, he got up and got out of the room, tiptoeing until he reached the bathroom. Once there, he slumped on the toilet, hand reaching down his boxers.
Ichigo had never been sex-crazed or anything of the sort. Keigo fit more that description than he did. That didn’t change the fact that he was still a straight man with needs. He could appreciate a good-looking woman when he saw one. He, too, could admire their assets. Such images would often stir something deep within him, something he had tried hard to keep in line, lest he ended up becoming a pervert like his old man. But it couldn’t be helped when he was a teen. Filled with raging hormones, he’d lock his door and cover himself with his blankets. He was always careful. He wasn’t loud. He always kept tissues nearby to clean himself after ─if anyone dared ask, he would blame his allergies. Things changed, of course, when he became a Shinigami and had had to share his room, or be woken up at various times in the night. He had more important things to worry about than pleasuring himself. Or finding a sexual partner for that matter. Sometimes, Ichigo did wonder what it would feel like to have sex. The thought became more recurrent after being teased mercilessly by all the Shinigami women he met. Then, he would often submerge himself into a fantasy his mind had concocted. If asked, Ichigo would insist he wasn’t a pervert for having such thoughts, not when it felt oh so right. Not when there was a possibility they could become a reality.
They didn’t, and he went to college still a virgin.
There was only an instance in which Ichigo could admit he had acted depravedly. He had been almost 21 and in college, and, you guessed it, still a virgin. A frustrated 21 year old medicine student who hadn’t lost his V-card yet. ─Though, admittedly, he had been frustrated by reasons unrelated (and in one way totally related) to his virginity. He was as friendless as they come as well. Most of his friends had followed their own dreams and had gone to different universities, leaving him alone. Only Ishida had gone to medical school with him. But his friend was always so quiet, and, in all fairness, completely disinterested by things around him. Ishida was an excellent student, and no doubt would make an excellent doctor, but he just wasn’t passionate anymore. Ichigo could relate. After saving the world, there was nothing he had left to do. Gone were his days of glory and excitement. Gone were all his friends from other worlds. Gone was his best friend. And, the worst part, he still had several decades of his life to live. He had gone to medical school thinking that gave him the perfect opportunity to save people. He wasn’t passionate, though. Because that wasn’t his dream. His disinterest must have shown, as almost none of his classmates had approached him. He was lonely and sad and frustrated. So much that, when Keigo told him he was throwing a party, Ichigo didn’t even think about making up an excuse and agreed to go.
As it turned out, Keigo’s party was basically a bash. For some reason, Ichigo had never pegged him to be of the popular kind, not when in high school nobody had noticed him. College was another thing completely. He was extremely popular as seen by the amount of people that had gone to his party. He briefly wondered if most were Mizuiru’s friends, when he remembered both of his friends went to completely different universities. Everyone was utterly wasted too. Keigo had bought enormous amounts of booze, and it showed. The situation made Ichigo uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being around so many people. And the drunk conversations around him were a painful reminder of a past life, of his Shinigami friends trying to get him pissed drunk when he had still been underage. As a result, he had stayed with his high school friends most of the time. Orihime, in particular, had remained close to him. Ishida had left early, claiming he had a headache, although Ichigo could tell something had bothered him. Chad hadn’t been there, for he was currently in Mexico, fighting a championship. Mizuiro had left them the first chance he got to hook up with an older-looking girl. Tatsuki had left them alone too. It was only Ichigo and his sweet friend. They had been drinking too. A lot. For there was pretty much nothing else to do. He gave a good look towards her. They had been sort-of-but-not-really dating for quite some time now. They rarely saw each other, mainly because he was studying and she was busy working. They had kissed a couple of times. He wouldn’t call her his girlfriend yet. Around them, bodies were moving. People were making out in the corner. Orihime suddenly said something. “Hasn’t it been a year already?” She blurted out, giggling. Memories crashed down on him of a ceremony and words he shouldn’t have uttered. He didn’t know what but something possessed him in that moment and he kissed her senseless. She was breathless. She tried to tell him something about their anniversary, but he wasn’t listening anymore. He devoured her mouth again and again. Until he got tired and craved more. Without saying goodbye to any of their friends, he grabbed her by the hand and led her to his apartment. Ichigo didn’t even wait one second pass after the door had closed. He pinned her to the wall and continued kissing her. Soon, their clothes had been thrown away and they were making out on his bed. He didn’t even let her breath or say something. Parting her legs, he had slammed himself into her. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even loving. Ichigo let himself get lost in the moment. His thrusts were powerful and fast. If he had been more himself, he would have noticed they probably hurt, but right then, he hadn’t cared. Orihime had screamed, digging her nails into his skin. He flipped her on her back, and kept going. Even after she had been spent, he still had the energy to continue. He wasn’t sure when, but eventually they stopped and fell asleep. Next morning, Ichigo had been confused as to why Orihime and he were on bed together. Then he had noticed angry red marks all over her body, and the ugly bruises forming on her hips. He had felt disgusted with himself, even more so when she had smiled sweetly at him.
Their relationship shifted after that. Ichigo started calling her his girlfriend, because after what he had done, it was the least he could do to save her reputation. They had sex more times after that. He hadn’t been as into it as during their first time together, though. He had been sweeter and loving. He could see that, although it certainly warmed Orihime’s heart, she wasn’t completely satisfied. Then, their relationship changed again when, one day, she announced she was pregnant. What was Ichigo left to do? He had to take responsibility, and so, he proposed. They were married two months later in a simple ceremony. As he had no money, his father had bought them a house and was their main support while Ichigo finished his studies. Orihime’s pregnancy and the lack of time he had between studying and working helped him find excuses as to why he didn’t want to have sex with her as often as before or why he wasn’t being as rough as before. Kazui’s birth and the amount of time they had to give him gave Ichigo more than enough excuses to stop his wife’s sexual advances. It didn’t last forever. As their son grew, they had more free time, and Orihime definitely took advantage of that. He had no excuses left, and so, he had to give in. It wasn’t something he loved to do, and it showed in his prowess. Most, if not all, of their encounters ended in him feeling restless. It wasn’t the first time Ichigo had stood up and left the room only to masturbate.
It was crude, jerking off in his bathroom while his wife and child slept. He couldn’t help it though. Truth be told, Ichigo liked it rough. He just didn’t want it with Orihime. Why? The answer was simple: their first time wasn’t supposed to happen. He had, quite frankly, taking advantage of her in a moment of weakness due to his drunkenness and a sense of revenge. He had hurt her, and now he was unable to satisfy both his wife and himself. He still had needs, though. And so, he grabbed his cock firmly as he let himself submerge into a deep-rooted fantasy of his. Ichigo pictured himself in his childhood room. He imagined a woman pushing him on his bed, and then crawling into his lap to straddle him. The woman’s lips would trail down his jaw to his neck, leaving behind bright red marks. His hands would fondle her small breasts, and then descend to her ass, to grab it harshly. That would cause her to moan loudly in his ear. He’d take off her summer dress, admiring the flawless skin underneath. He jerked himself louder. He’d suck on her breasts and nipples, while her hands would unbutton his pants. They would quickly take off the rest of their clothes. Ichigo would take a moment to admire the beauty in front of him before crashing his lips into hers. He’d use one finger to pump inside her. His actions would make her mewl in pleasure. Her own hands wouldn’t be idle, having fun stroking his pulsing cock. His movements became faster. She’d push him on the bed again, straddling him to make their crotches touch. That would be it. He would grab her hips tightly and slam into her. She would scream his name. They wouldn’t stop. He moaned loudly, hips thrusting slightly, as he kept jacking off. Ichigo would keep pounding into her as she rode him, nails digging into his neck. His own would squeeze her butt cheeks, eliciting more sounds from her. He would fuck her hard enough to send her over the edge over and over. “Ichigo!” She would scream his name with each thrust. Ichigo would take the time to engrave her sounds into his memory. The way she would gasp when he rammed into her. The way she would taste and smell. The way she would look as she orgasmed on him. Once it was time, he would make sure to come inside of her, making her scream again.
Ichigo panted as his orgasm came and went. He wasn’t finished, however. His stamina could allow him to keep going, hours on end. He tried to feel guilty, he really did. But so what if the lips he kissed and the body he touched in his mind didn’t belong to his wife? So what if the woman’s skin was pale like the moon? So what if her breasts were smaller, and her hair darker? Nothing mattered anymore. Ichigo couldn’t care less. This was the only time he could be himself, pleasure himself accordingly. This fantasy was all he ever wanted. He bit his lip as he cleaned himself. He definitely could keep going, but it wouldn’t do if Orihime woke up and found him like this.
Once done, Ichigo stood with shaky legs and stared at himself in the mirror. He almost glowed.
He smiled softly.
He tiptoed back to his room. There, he found his discarded boxers and put them on, before laying down next to his wife, who was still ignoring, oblivious to what he had just done. He covered himself with his sheets, and closed his eyes. Before finally falling asleep, Ichigo let his mind wander one last time. Maybe that fantasy of his could, one day, become a reality.
“Are you ready?”
Renji’s voice got her out of her reverie. She turned to him and found both him and Ichika behind her. Her daughter was pouting, saying something that the gigai felt weird. Renji told her it would be fine if she didn’t use it. Rukia smiled at them and nodded. Together, they went out of Urahara’s Store and walked towards their destination. She would be a liar if she said she wasn’t nervous. How much time had passes since the last time she had set foot in Karakura? It felt like an eternity. If Renji had noticed, he hadn’t said, and for that she was grateful. They arrived and Rukia sucked in air. This was it. Renji knocked on the door and it soon opened.
“Yo!”
Rukia gasped. The sky cleared, sun shining down on them. She smiled.
“Hey!”
All was well again.
As they stopped yelling to each other, Ichigo couldn’t help but laugh. How long had it been since he had had a shouting match? It felt like an eternity. It was like going back in time, being 15 again. His companion giggled until she was out right laughing with him. It was ridiculous. It was ironic. It was beautiful. All sound around them stopped, and all of their friends and family turned to look at them, weird expressions on their faces. They stopped laughing and stared at them.
“Fight me like a man!” Ichika’s voice abruptly brought them all back to reality.
“No! I don’t want to be the villain anymore!” Kazui complained, crossing his arms.
“Pretty please?” The young girl said, batting her eyes, the ones that looked exactly like her mother’s, at the boy.
“Alright.” The boy said, almost sighing dramatically.
Ichigo chuckled. Some things never changed.
“Dear?” The mirth in his eyes disappeared as he observed the expression on his wife’s face.
“You sure you can handle this?” Rukia taunted him, pointing Sode No Shirayuki at him.
“Tch. As if I hadn’t gone against worst foes before.” Ichigo said, raising Zangetsu to imitate her stance.
“I’m just saying it’s been a while.” She said, smirking at him.
“I’m still in great shape.” He answered, feeling annoyed at her.
“If you say so.” She said dismissively.
“Oh, I’m gonna show you just how in great shape I am!” Ichigo exclaimed before he leapt at her.
Rukia used her zanpakutou to block the hit. She smirked. “My, someone’s excited~!” She said in that tone of voice Ichigo hated so much.
“Shut up!” He said and slashed again.
Their swords clashed together, the sound reverberating in the training room at the 13th Squad barracks. It was Ichigo’s turn to smirk at her. “How’s that, eh, Captain?”
“Not bad, Ichigo. Think you can do better?”
“You bet!”
They leapt again, swords clashing continuously. Each thrust was powerful and left them breathless. They weren’t even fighting to their full capacity, this was just a spar after all. It didn’t mean they weren’t serious about it, though. Rukia got out of the way, just in time to deflect Ichigo’s next blow. Using shunpo, she moved behind her opponent and hit him on the knees, making him fall down to the ground. She jumped and straddled him, Sode No Shirayuki’s blade frighteningly close to his neck.
“Do you yield?” Rukia whispered huskily into his ear.
“Like hell!” He exclaimed.
Grabbing her by the hips, Ichigo flipped her on her back. Rukia’s head hit the floor, as he pushed her down. He used his legs to keep her in place as he straddled her. He grabbed her hands and placed them on top of her head, making her drop her sword.
“Do you yield?” He murmured, his lips close to her mouth.
It was then when they noticed the situation they were currently in. They could feel how their bodies moved each time they breathed. The action made their chests rise and fall at the same time, completely pressed to each other. Their faces were so close that, should any of them lean forward, their lips would meet.
“Yay! You won, daddy!” Kazui’s cheers and claps brought them back to reality.
They quickly separated as Ichika complained that Ichigo had cheated and her mother should have won. With red cheeks, they dusted their clothes off, ignoring the fast beating of their hearts.
“Ichigo won fair and square. It was my fault for getting distracted.” Rukia explained, approaching her daughter.
“Though I admit I did cheat a little bit. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have won.” Ichigo said. “Rukia’s a captain, after all.”
She snorted. “And you’re the most famous hero we’ve ever had.”
Ichigo got flustered. “Yeah, well, I did what I had to.” He said, as he stared into her eyes.
“Mom!” Ichika’s voice distracted again.
Both jumped and then turned to look at their children.
“Yes, honey?”
“Why don’t we show Kazui and Kurosaki-san around?” The little girl said.
“Yes, dad, can we? Ichika was telling me about this lake!” The little boy said, grabbing his father’s sleeve.
Rukia smiled. “Yes, of course.”
The two adults walked at the same pace, watching their children run around. They each were smiling nostalgically.
“Bet you didn’t think it’d turn out this way when you asked me to spar.” Rukia commented, sitting down on a rock.
He chuckled. “I should’ve known Kazui would want to watch. He likes to listen to my stories, from back then, I mean.”
“Oh? So you tell him about the time I drew a moustache on you?” She asked, grinning.
“Yeah, and about the time you got your ass kicked by a normal human being!” He replied haughtily.
“In my defense, you were never a normal human.”
Ichigo scoffed. “You’re one to talk! Who draws such ugly rabbits?”
“Excuse me but my drawings are beautiful! Nii-sama thinks so too!” She yelled, enraged.
“Of course Byakuya would think so! His drawings suck too!”
“Don’t you dare insult nii-sama!”
They kept fighting, until their faces were close to each other. They stopped once they felt each other’s hot breath. Flushing, they took a step back, only to remember what had been going on. They started laughing, so hard that it made their stomachs ache.
“Jeez, I don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard!” Ichigo exclaimed, wiping away the happy tears that had formed in his eyes.
“I do. It was actually at your house!” Rukia answered.
They shared a laugh and then got distracted by the kids’ laughter. Kazui and Ichika were splashing around in the river, getting each other wet.
“Sometimes I get worried when Kazui asks me to tell him stories about my Shinigami years.” Ichigo suddenly said. “I worry that he’ll follow into my steps.”
“Would that be so bad?” Rukia asked, looking straight at him.
“I guess?” The man sighed. “It’s not that I regret it. In fact, those have been one of the happiest moments in my life. But… I’m worried he’s not going to be strong enough, that he’s…”
“Going to die?” Rukia answered for him.
“Yes.” He turned to look at his son. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t want to see him get hurt.” He whispered. “Aren’t you afraid too?” He asked her directly.
She observed her daughter. She snorted when Ichika fell on her butt while trying to run away from Kazui. “I love her.” She confessed. “More than life itself. If something bad happened to her, I think I’d want to die on the spot. But…”
“But?”
“I know the risks of being a Shinigami. I… I lost someone I deeply cared about while on the job. I’ve almost lost my life several times and I know it’s the same for every Shinigami. But… I don’t feel scared in those situations, because I know that, even if I died, I’d have done my job, protecting others, it’d be alright.” Rukia turned to look at Ichigo. “And that’s the same for you.”
“Yeah, but─”
“If your father had told you back in the day that he didn’t want you to be a Shinigami, what would you have said?” She interrupted him.
Ichigo chuckled. “I would’ve told him I didn’t care about his opinions, and I would’ve done what I wanted anyway.”
“Exactly.” Rukia smiled. “It’s the same for them.” She gestured towards the two children. “Of course I’m scared that my daughter one day will come back from a mission injured or worse. Of course sometimes that fear keeps me up at night. But I know that, if this is what she wants to do, she’s going to do it whether I like it or not. The only thing I can do for her is teach her all I know, in hopes it’ll give her the tools to become a better Shinigami than I am. To come back safely to me.”
He pondered what she told him for a minute, staring at the lake as the sun began to set. “I know what you mean. You’re completely right. I just… I’ve already lost too much. I don’t want to lose my son too because I couldn’t protect him.”
“Oh, Ichigo, you can’t live your life trying to protect everyone.” She said. “Just have faith that all your loved ones will come back to you. Death’s not the end, as you well know.”
Ichigo smiled. “It figures that I’m still not as strong as I believe I am. But don’t worry, I’ll become strong enough to let Kazui go and do what he has to do. Strong enough to trust him.” He said. Then, looking at his little boy, he added, “When he’s older, I mean.”
“Of course, wouldn’t have it any other way.”
In silence, they observed their children, chuckling once in a while at their antics. When the sun had finally set, they picked them up. Rukia opened the Senkaimon. Almost tearfully, Ichika said goodbye to her friend, who hugged her instantly. She smiled at the children, and then looked at her own friend.
“Guess this is goodbye.” She said, repeating the same lines she had told him long ago.
“Yeah, but just for a bit. I’ll come back for more training when you least expect it.” He answered.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Ichigo nodded, but just before he crossed the gate, he turned to her once more. “Oh, and Rukia?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for earlier.” He said, flashing her his brightest smile.
“Anytime.”
With that, father and son crossed the gate, the doors closing after them. Rukia and her daughter watched them go, both having the same thoughts. Pulling Ichika’s hand, she started guiding them home. She had no doubt Ichigo was doing the same with Kazui. What she didn’t know was that, just like her, once they laid at night, they were both thinking about their sparring match and their bodies pressing together. It was something neither would be able to forget.
“Rukia?” Renji called her.
“Huh?” She said, focusing her gaze on her husband.
“You okay? You seem distracted.” He asked, clearly concerned.
She smiled softly. “Yeah, I am. Just thinking about paperwork.”
He groaned. “Ain’t it the worst?”
She chuckled. “So, what were you saying?”
Renji smirked. “Oh, I was just thinking that, y’know, since Ichika’s with your brother and all, we might wanna take the chance to spend some time together.” He said, his hand caressing her legs.
“Oh? Whatever do you mean, Renji?” Rukia said, amused.
“You know what I mean.” He said, voice laced with lust. Then, he pushed her on the bed, crawling on top of her.
Rukia moaned as he kissed her jaw and her neck. Soon, he pulled her for a deep kiss. He started undressing her, touching her as he kept on kissing her. She responded to his actions. She had been feeling needy, after all. However, she wanted to have fun of her own. She pushed Renji’s chest away so as to have the necessary room to flip him on his back. She straddled him, hands pushing him down.
“Rukia?” He called.
“Yeah?” Rukia practically moaned, rubbing herself on him.
“What are you doing?” He asked, arching a brow.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” She answered in a teasing tone. She rubbed on him again for good measure.
Though Renji groaned, his face looked puzzled. Grabbing her hips, he started pushing her off. “Come on, stop teasing me and lay down.”
Rukia frowned. “Why? Isn’t it more fun this way?”
He visibly sighed. “You know I like being on top.”
“And what if I like being on top too?” She argued.
“How do you know?” He grumbled.
“You mean, how do I know when you never let me do it?” She asked, sarcastically. Rukia, then, got off of him, and sat down on the bed.
“Rukia.” He whined. “You know it’s not like that.”
“Then how is it, Renji? I tried doing something sexy for a change, and you stopped me. Why don’t you want me to be on top?”
“It’s just… I feel more comfortable when I’m on top.” Renji said. “It feels better.”
She glared at him. “You don’t know. You wouldn’t know because you never let me try anything. It’s the same thing as when I asked you to slam me on the wall.”
“You know that’s dangerous! I don’t want to accidentally hurt you!” He said.
Rukia scoffed. “You weren’t worried about that when you slammed me on that lamppost and tried to choke me.”
Renji’s jaw dropped. He quickly recovered, glaring at her too. “That’s not fair, Rukia. Not fucking fair.”
“Why not?”
“That was a long time ago!” He yelled. “I’m not that man anymore!”
“Well, maybe I’m not that woman anymore either!” She exclaimed.
He laughed mirthlessly. “No? ‘Cause you’re acting right now like you did that night. Pushing me away for nothing. Is it because of Ichigo too?” He said suggestively.
Rukia hissed. “Get. Out.”
“Rukia!”
“I said get out!” She screamed, hitting him with a pillow. “You can’t expect me to want you here after that!”
“But─!”
“Enough!” Rukia yelled. “Just go, Renji!”
“Fine.” He growled. He took his clothes and then left the room, eventually leaving the house too.
Once she was alone, tears started streaming down her face. She wrapped her arms around her naked body, feeling vulnerable. As she sobbed, she pictured a better life. A life were her husband would let her experiment her sexuality. A life were her husband wasn’t jealous or unfair. A life were she felt loved. With these thoughts, Rukia fell asleep, not without imagining the man from her fantasies. He certainly wouldn’t have treated her like that.
Next morning, Renji came hope with a huge bouquet, Ichika trailing behind him. Rukia had no choice but to accept him back.
That didn’t stop her from fantasizing at night, though.
“Ichigo!” Orihime called him, a giggle spilling from her lips.
Ichigo opened his bedroom’s door to find her dressed in a baby doll. Any other man would have pounced on his wife. But he wasn’t that type of man. He closed the door behind him and then looked at her. “Orihime? What are you doing?” He asked.
She giggled. “What do you think I’m doing, silly?” She said. Then, she stood up, walking towards him. “Since Kazui’s at your father’s, I thought we could have some fun.” She said, her finger tracing a pattern on his chest.
Mentally, he sighed. He knew where this was going and he didn’t want to go through with it. Still, he didn’t want her to feel sad. Mustering a smile, he said. “Oh? I was thinking the same.”
Ichigo kissed her, slowly, softly. Orihime giggled and then pushed him on the bed. Crawling on top of him, she started trailing kisses down his jaw and neck. She, then, helped him undress, her mouth still doing all sorts of things. Ichigo simply held her, not being in the mood to do anything else. Once they were naked, she straddled him, burying him into her. “Oh, Ichigo.” She mewled, rocking her hips. Having no choice, Ichigo started doing the same. “Harder.” She moaned, but he didn’t do anything. “Ichigo, harder.” She commanded, but Ichigo shook his head. “No, like this.” Orihime pouted, stopping her movements. “Why not?”
Ichigo sighed. “I don’t like it.” He simply said, shrugging.
“Lies.” She whispered.
“I’m sorry?” He said, not quite sure he had heard her right.
“Lies! You’re a liar, Ichigo!” She said. Then she stood up. “I know you like it rough! Remember our first night?”
That got him angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He growled.
“Of course I know! I remember!” She yelled. “What happened to that Ichigo? You used to be so passionate! What happened to you?”
He glared at her. “I repeat. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Is it because you think I’m fragile? I’m not going to break! I’m stronger than I look!”
“It’s not that.” He said.
“Then what is it?!” Orihime screamed.
“You really want to know?” Ichigo hissed.
“Yes!”
“Fine! Yeah! I like it rough! I just don’t like it with you!” He shouted before he was able to stop himself.
She gasped. Tears started rolling down his face. “What?” She whispered.
“Shit. Orihime. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that!” He started apologizing, standing up to reach her.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it!”
“Ori─!”
“Just stop, Ichigo!” She yelled.
Defeated, he picked up his boxers and walked out the door. He went to his couch, deciding to sleep there for the time being. He had done it. He had made his wife cry. He had sworn he’d never be that type of man, but here he was. Ichigo couldn’t help it. It was the truth. That night, their first night, he had used Orihime to forget his own pains. He had let out the dark side of him. One he didn’t want her to know. Because, no matter what she said, Ichigo knew she wouldn’t like it. She had rejected him before, after all. Slapping a hand on his face, he couldn’t help but think that a certain someone wouldn’t have rejected him. That he could show that side of him to that person.
Tomorrow, he’d buy Orihime sunflowers and apologize. He would take her out on a date. Even be rougher next time they did it. But, for tonight, he’d let his thoughts wander to that other person. The only one he could be himself with.
“Harder, Ichigo!” Rukia’s scream filled him with the power to keep going. “Oh, yeah, just like that!” She exclaimed.
Ichigo groaned, preparing for the next thrust. “Better?”
“Yeah!” She yelled, meeting him mid-thrust.
“Jeez, Rukia, be more careful!” He complained.
“What? Scared of a little fun?” She taunted him.
“No!” He yelled. “I’m scared of you poking my eye out!” He said, dodging her second blow.
Rukia smirked. “My, my, so the great Kurosaki Ichigo is scared of little old me?”
“I’m not afraid!” He shouted, trying to hit her with his sword. “But you got that right about being little and old.”
“What?!” She yelled, pissed off. “Oh, you’re so dead!”
Today they were sparring again. It had become a little tradition of theirs. Every once in a while, Ichigo made the time to go to Soul Society to train with Rukia. Whenever he came, Rukia cleared her schedule for the whole day. If their spouses opposed the idea, they never said anything.
Ichigo, who had lost great part of his abilities, had regained them with her help. He was almost as strong as he had once been. If he kept this up, she had no doubt he’d be even stronger. As for Rukia, sparring ironically helped her relax from her life. Things had not precisely been going well with Renji, and Ichika was starting to notice. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t have anyone to talk about it, either. Nii-sama was out of the question. And her other friends weren’t married, so probably their advice wouldn’t be as useful.
When they had finished sparring, Rukia turned to look at Ichigo. Once upon a time, they had been able to communicate without speaking. Somehow, with just one look they knew what the other was feeling. Occasionally, they would have deep heart-to-hearts. Those conversations always ended in a positive note. They always knew how to cheer the other up.
“If you have something on your mind, say it.” Ichigo said, having noticed Rukia’s trouble look.
She shook her head. “You always know when something’s going on.”
He nodded. “Well, yeah, I know you better than I know myself.”
That admission filled her with warmth. Not that she’d ever tell him.
“Ichigo.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever wish you could go back in time?” Rukia whispered.
“What do you mean?” He asked her.
“Like… what if you made a decision which seemed right at the time, but it really wasn’t. And now that you know it’s not, do you ever want to go back in time and stop yourself from making that decision?” She explained.
Ichigo remained silent. Then he nodded. “Yeah, sometimes. Some days more than others.” They grew silent again. “I’m not sure if I’d go back, given the chance.” He said at last.
She blinked. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Look at it this way, the only reason we know that wasn’t the right choice was because we made it in the first place. We have learned from our mistakes. If we could take it all back, we wouldn’t learn anything.” He said. “I’d rather make mistakes than not learn anything.”
Rukia found herself nodding at his words. “That’s surprisingly insightful and mature.”
Ichigo chuckled. “I have my moments.”
They went quiet again, each deep in thought.
“I don’t want to regret anything.” Rukia said suddenly.
Her friend smiled softly at her. “Then don’t.” He mulled over his words before adding, “There are things I regret, though I try not to. Some of those choices brought me happiness I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.”
She bit her lip. “What if there’s memories I’d trade for something?”
Ichigo sighed. “Then you must make a choice. It might not be too late to get what you want.”
She felt like crying. “Oh, but I know it is. It’s much too late.” Ten years too late. Her mind added.
Ichigo gently patted her head. “It’s never too late. I’m sure you’ll get what you want.” He said, smiling down at her.
She smiled back. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He said, his fingers lingering on her hair. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”
Rukia nodded. “And you’re mine.”
Ichigo smiled and then smirked. “What do you say if we go again? I’m sure I’m gonna beat you in less than ten minutes!”
“Oh, you wish! Bring it on!”
Rukia moaned, loudly. She was currently in her tub, enjoying some time for herself for a change. Ichika was with Byakuya, and Renji was on a short mission. It was perfect. She used her newfound free time wisely. She cleaned. Did her laundry. Ate whatever she wanted for dinner. She even sang out loud some of the songs she had learned in the world of the living. But at night, she prepared everything. She prepared her bath. She put scented candles around her tub. She put sake in a cup, and then dipped into the water. It was hot. It felt incredibly around her aching body.
As expected, her marriage with Renji hadn’t gone back to normal. Their sexual encounters were almost non-existent now. It wasn’t something she could say she was sad about. Not when her fingers were much more gratifying. The moan that slipped past her lips reminded her why. And that fantasy that she had kept replaying in her mind non-stop. In fact, she just kept expanding it. Different encounters, different positions with the same man. All having the same outcome: indescribable pleasure. If only they were real…
She had been serious the other day when she had asked Ichigo if he would change anything about his life. She certainly would change several things about hers. It wasn’t her fault. She had been younger, more foolish. She was much wiser now. Rukia knew what she wanted, and it wasn’t necessarily something that she would be able to get from her current life, from her husband. She knew she was lucky, though. Not everyone had the position she now held as captain of the Gotei 13. Not everyone could say that they had a family. Or friends. In reality, she should have been satisfied. She wasn’t. Rukia craved much more than mundane commodity. She longed for those days filled with excitement. She wished to go back to the time she was able to experience all life had to offer, which death had robbed her. It wasn’t the experience only. Rukia also desperately missed the company she had had, which she had now lost. If she hadn’t, where would she be now? Probably by that person’s side, like she had always been from the moment they had met.
Rukia moaned more audibly this time. She had almost screamed. Well, since she had no company, she figured she could be as loud as she wanted. With this in mind, she inserted one finger inside, gasping from the pleasure she felt. Her other hand played with her breasts as she imagined another person doing it. The person she craved for. His big, rough hands, squeezing her breasts. His hot lips, sucking her skin. His abs under her hands. His short, orange hair. His deep eyes, staring straight into hers as he slammed into her. His member, hard and long, buried inside of her. She screamed, letting herself get lost into this fantasy.
What wouldn’t she give to make this dream a reality?
She kept at it, even after her skin had pruned. Each time, she screamed one single name.
“Ichigo!”
Ichigo woke up with a start. He was sweating all over, and he felt as if a fire was growing in his belly. Turning around, he realized Orihime was nowhere to be found. She was probably already up and about. She was always an early riser. He groaned, burying his head on his pillow. It was that dream again. Every night he got the same dream. It was driving him insane. If he closed his eyes, Ichigo could still hear her sounds and feel her warmth. It was agonizing.
He got up and went through his day as usual. He had breakfast with his family, before dropping Kazui off at his school. Next, he headed to his father’s clinic, where his old man greeted him with a kick like in old times. The day went by slowly, some clients here and there, but for the most part in complete silence. Then, he returned home, where Orihime had dinner ready for him. He ate, watched a cartoon with Kazui, and put him to bed after it was over. At 10 pm sharp, Orihime and he went to sleep. But, Ichigo couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, images from his dream flashed in his head. Getting up, he went to the bathroom to take care of his problem.
It wasn’t his fault. Really, it wasn’t. He wasn’t sure why his subconscious would play out his recurrent fantasy like a broken record every night. Worst part was, he enjoyed it, every damned second of it. Ichigo grunted as his hand moved up and down. How many more nights would he have to go to the bathroom to take care of this? His conversation with Rukia suddenly crossed his mind. He hadn’t exactly lied to her, but he hadn’t been truthful either. There were decisions he had made that he wished to change. There were also happy moments he would trade for his ultimate wish: another life. When at work, it wasn’t hard for him to envision a better life. Ichigo often toyed with the idea of being a full-time Shinigami, a dream he had pushed aside in his youth. It could be a far more exciting life, to be sure. Adventures every day. All the power he needed to protect others in his fingertips. It’d sure come with a lot of benefits, including the person that would accompany him in that life. That person who, if he was being honest, had never left his mind. The same person he longed for. Fantasized about, daily.
Ichigo sped up his actions. He needed to finish fast. It wouldn’t be too hard when his mind kept conjuring those images. Her luscious lips. Her long, dark hair. Her soft skin. Her tantalizing hips moving against his own. Her hands on his hair. Her mouth moaning his name. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her core, wet and hot, tight around his cock. It was too much. He came, his seed falling on the floor in spurts. Only one name left his lips when it was over.
“Rukia.”
Another normal, boring day. Rukia thought as she made her way home. Definitely all excitement had died down after the war. She briefly wondered if the rest of her friends felt that way. She knew someone who did, though. Pushing those thoughts aside, she sped her pace. She arrived at her house, plastering a fake smile like she had found herself doing more often than not.
“Welcome!” Renji said, grinning down at her.
Rukia greeted him back, stepping inside. She took off her haori, and then looked around. “Where’s Ichika?”
“Oh, Captain Kuchiki invited her over for tea time. She’s staying over for the night.” He said, still smiling.
She nodded. Though she thought the situation was fishy, she said nothing. She hung her haori in her closet, and then changed into a lighter yukata. She went to the kitchen only to find Renji had already made them dinner.
“What’s the occasion?” She asked.
“What? Can’t a man pamper his wife?”
Rukia didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to. Together, they ate dinner. It wasn’t as great as it could have been, but she had to give it to Renji for trying. Then, they chatted about their day. It was almost normal. As it had been before that argument that they had had. There was something which bothered her, though. Renji’s intense stares had her on edge. It took everything in her power to stop herself from actively flinching.
After dinner, they drank sake quietly on their porch. It was a nice summer night. Then, Renji suggested they go back inside, where he led her to their room. Their bed was covered in rose petals, which hadn’t been before.
“Renji. What’s this?” She asked, breathlessly observing her room.
“I figured it was time to be romantic.” He said sheepishly, and then he held her hands. “Look, I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I really want to make this work.” He said earnestly. “And I found a way to get everything back in order.”
Rukia raised an eyebrow. “You did?”
Renji nodded and then grinned. “We haven’t spent enough time together. We need more intimacy. And I also realized when we had gone wrong. We started growing apart after Ichika started school, so…”
Fearing where this was going, she tried to stop him. “Ren─”
“That’s when it hit me.” He kept talking, completely ignoring her. “Our lives revolve so much around Ichika that we need a way to rekindle our relationship. We need more intimacy! More time together! And, I also think, that we probably need something to distract Ichika with. Or rather someone. She won’t need much attention if she’s no longer an only child!”
She paled. “Renji.”
“I know what you’re thinking, and don’t worry! It doesn’t have to be right now. But, we should probably start practicing, huh?” He said, pulling Rukia closer by her hips. “We’re alone after all.”
“Renji.” Rukia said firmly, using her hands to push him away.
“Yeah?” His face fell.
“I don’t want another baby.” She answered.
“What?” He whispered.
“I don’t want another baby. I think our family’s already fine the way it is.” Rukia said. “As a captain, I can’t really afford to be out of commission for long. It was fine when Ichika was born because I was still a lieutenant, but things are different now.”
“Things are different because you’re a captain?” He asked ironically. “Or maybe it’s something else.”
“What do you mean?” She asked, crossing her arms.
Renji laughed. “Don’t take me for a fool. I’ve seen what has been going on for ages now. You say you don’t want a baby, but it’s not that you don’t want another child, it’s just you don’t want me to be the father!”
“That’s not true!” She exclaimed.
“It’s not? Then why do you always back away from sex? Or even just spending time with me in general?!”
“Ren─”
“While you keep spending time with Ichigo!” He finally yelled, furious.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb! Ever since you saw him in Karakura, you’ve been different! Slowly, you’ve been pushing me away! What’s worse is that you don’t see a problem in spending time with Ichigo! You encourage it, in fact! And don’t think I haven’t heard you when you slip to the bathroom! You don’t want sex with me, but have no problem touching yourself like a slut!”
“Stop!” She yelled, but was ignored, as Renji kept shouting.
“And Ichigo! I’ve seen you two, Rukia! I’ve seen the way you’re all over each other during your ‘sparring sessions.’ You probably wouldn’t mind having sex with him, huh?! Having his baby?! Hey, maybe you have! For all I know ‘training’ it’s just code for fucking! You’re his little whore, aren’t you, Rukia?”
“Shut the hell up!” She screamed as she slapped him. “You have no idea about anything, Renji! You think you can blame Ichigo for everything, but you’ve had your share in this situation! We’d been doing badly for years before I even saw Ichigo again! You’ve tried to control every little thing about me since we got married! You don’t want me out in bars with Rangiku-san! You don’t want me wearing revealing clothes! You want me to be your perfect little wife! You don’t even care about my needs!” Years of frustration kept coming out of her mouth, and she was unable to stop them. “And about sex, you’ve only ever cared about what you want, about your needs! I’ve never been able to come with you because you never take the time to pleasure me! You think that just by having your dick inside is enough?! Well, you’re wrong!”
“Ru─”
“And no matter how many times you’re on top when you fuck me, that won’t ever make you a greater man! It makes you a lesser man, in fact!”
“Now, hold─”
“And you’re damn right when you say I prefer Ichigo! He would never treat me like this and you know it!”
After those words escaped her lips, they both suddenly grew quiet. Then, Renji laughed. It was a loud, painful laugh.
“I want to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. It’s always been him, hasn’t it?”
Rukia didn’t answer. She merely crossed her arms around her body.
“I’m a fucking idiot. I should’ve known…” He kept muttering, more to himself than to his wife.
“Renji.” She called him, abruptly.
“Yes?”
“It’s over.”
Ichigo came back from the store feeling tired. Today had been a hectic day at the clinic. He wanted nothing more than to come home and pass out, but Orihime called him saying they were out of milk. Naturally, he had had to go to the store, which was a block away from home. He normally wouldn’t have minded, but he was exhausted and had a headache, and the cold was definitely not making it any better.
“I’m home.” He announced, entering his house. He, then, went straight to the kitchen and put the milk in the fridge. “Orihime?”
“In here~!” His wife called out from the room.
He walked to his room only to find his wife naked on their bed.
She smiled coyly when she saw him. “Dear, welcome back. I know you’ve been working hard, and this is your prize.”
Ichigo gulped and not out of excitement. This wasn’t the first time she had pulled such a stunt to get him into bed, and every time he found it even more difficult to step away without hurting her feelings.
“Where’s Kazui?” He croaked out, attempting to distract her.
She giggled. “He’s with Yuzu-chan and Karin-chan for the night. We have all the time in the world for ourselves.”
“Ah.” He nodded lamely, not knowing what else to say.
“Now, come here! I’ve been waiting for you.” Orihime said, standing up.
“Ah, about that.” Ichigo started saying, scratching the back of his head.
“What?” The woman frowned.
“Listen, Orihime. I’m tired and my head kinda hurts, so maybe we should postpone… this.” He gestured between them.
Normally, his sweet wife would have nodded and tried to help him out, but not today. Her frown deepened as she glared at him. “Again? You’ve had headaches for about three months now.”
He laughed awkwardly. “Well, it’s been a tough few months with the clients and all.”
“There are no clients.” Orihime said matter-of-factly.
“I’m sorry?”
“There are no clients. At least not enough! I’ve seen our shared bank account. You’re barely making money, and yet you say you work a lot.” She said as she started putting on her discarded clothes.
It was Ichigo’s turn to glare. “First of all, I’ve had a lot of clients. The problem’s I don’t like charging people in need a lot of money.”
“What about our money?”
“Well, I’m sorry that not all of us work at Karakura General Hospital!”
“You now that, if you wanted, Ishida-kun could get you a spot there.” She grumbled.
“Well I don’t want to!” He retorted, crossing his arms haughtily.
“And when it’s not ‘work’, you’re tired for one reason or another.” Orihime kept complaining. “You never want to be with me anymore! And yet…”
“What?” Ichigo frowned when she didn’t say anything else.
“Yet you have the time to visit Kuchiki-san!” She shouted. “Do you like her more than me?”
“It’s not like that.” He replied.
“It’s not? Then why do you always talk about her? Why do you spend your free time with her?” Orihime kept saying. “You never want to do things with me anymore. You don’t tell me about your day. And you don’t want to make love to me anymore!”
Ichigo sighed. “I’ve been tired, that’s all.”
“That’s your excuse for everything!” She screeched. “Every time you try to stop us from having sex you say you’re tired. Then I hear you in the bathroom touching yourself!”
He didn’t say anything. There was no use in defending himself when all she said was true.
“What’s wrong with me? How can we make this marriage work if you don’t wanna be with me? How are we supposed to have a baby?!”
Ichigo choked. “B-baby?” He stammered.
“Yeah. I want to have another baby, don’t you?” Orihime said, wide-eyed.
“No… I don’t.” Ichigo answered honestly.
“What? I thought you wanted a big family!” She exclaimed, recalling their early days as a couple.
“Not anymore.” He shook his head. “There’s a lot going on right now.”
“But I want another baby!” She said. “What about what I want?”
“And what about what I want!” Ichigo exclaimed. “You’re always talking about how I should be with you every hour of every day, and having sex even when I’m not up to it. What about me? Why do I have to do everything you want while you never stop to ask what I want, how I feel?” He said. “I’ve been… I’ve been just so lost. I’m unhappy at work. I’ve been second guessing everything! The only time I feel alive is when I’m training, and you want to take that away from me too!”
“Is that it?” Orihime whispered. “Does Kuchiki-san make you feel alive? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Don’t go putting words into my mouth! I never said that!”
“But you said you feel alive while training! And you train with her!” She accused him. “What’s going on with her, Ichigo?”
“Nothing! Nothing’s going on!” He denied everything.
“Lies! You’re such a liar! I know something’s going on!” Then she sobbed. “Are we never going to get rid of her?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, suddenly on edge.
“It’s her! It’s always Kuchiki-san! Since we were teens! You never gave me the time of the day when you were with her! And when she married Abarai-kun I thought you had finally moved on, and that you’d finally see me! But every time you fall back into her trap!”
“That’s not true!”
“Face the facts, Ichigo! She’s got you wrapped around her finger! She doesn’t care about you! She’s just using you!”
“How dare you!” Ichigo exclaimed. “How dare you fucking talk about Rukia like that! She cares about me!”
“And what about me? She might care about you, but I love you! I’ve always loved you!” Orihime cried. “I have been here every time you were in trouble or sad! God, I even went with you to save her! I’m the one who understands you! I’m the one who truly loves you!”
Ichigo shook his head. “You haven’t.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You haven’t been there every time I got into trouble, or every time I felt sad. Fuck, you didn’t even care when I lost my powers!” He yelled.
“I did!”
“No, you didn’t! You didn’t care enough! In fact, when I stopped being a Shinigami the second time around you were happy! You told me as much! That you didn’t want me to fight anymore!”
“Is caring about your well-being so bad?! I don’t want you to get killed!” Orihime exclaimed.
“But fighting is what makes me feel alive! What use is there for not dying when I don’t even feel alive?!” He shouted. “And you don’t get that! But Rukia does! That’s the difference!”
“What? So you prefer Kuchiki-san, is that what you’re saying?” Orihime asked him.
“Yes!” Ichigo answered without thinking things through.
“Get out.” She whispered.
“What?”
“Get out! If Kuchiki-san is so great, then go with her! See if I care!” She hissed. “Just remember she’s not your wife! Nor the mother of your child! She’ll never love you like I do!”
Ichigo grumbled. “Then maybe that’s a good thing! Her love won’t suffocate me!” He yelled before leaving his room.
He walked away, not once looking back. Once outside, he ran, ran, ran. Ichigo wasn’t sure where he was going until he arrived to his destination. The cemetery. Of course. He always came to his mother when he had problems. If he hadn’t felt so awful, he would’ve smiled. He walked calmly, not bothering to run away, until he reached her grave. There, in front of him, rested his mother.
“I messed up.” He choked out. “I messed up so badly I’m not sure even you’d forgive me.” Now that he had calmed down, Ichigo was filled with guilt. In truth, Orihime had been right to call him out. She was trying to make their marriage work. But he was not up to it anymore. Not when he knew her real feelings about his best friend. Or the fact they wanted different things in life.
He was about to say something else when he heard sniffling. Frowning, he looked around until he stopped her. Of course. She was hiding behind some trees, but he could still see her, feel her. “Rukia.” Ichigo called her.
She turned to look at him, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Ichigo.” She whispered, then, she ran to him until they were standing side by side. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and her eyes looked dead.
He didn’t say anything, he just grabbed her and hugged her. She broke down, burying her face in his chest.
“We messed up.” He whispered into the wind.
They stayed there until they had calmed down. Then, they both left, each to their own houses, to their own problems.
The swords clashed more forcefully than they probably should have. Both fighters pulled back, sweating and panting from the exertion. With a yell, they went at it again, pushing their opponent forward. They repeated the same action several times. Frustration oozed from their bodies. No one had the upper hand. No one was winning. Minutes later, they pulled back, letting their weapons fall to the ground. Tired, they soon joined their swords.
A few seconds of silence passed. Their heavy breathing was the only sound in the room.
“You… went… really hard… at it.” Rukia eventually said, still panting.
“Che. You’re one to talk.” Ichigo said, his breathing already evening. “I thought I’d lose my head several times.”
She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry. I get it.” He reassured her.
Silently, they got up, reaching for their water bottles. As they drank, they sat side by side, shoulders almost touching.
“How’s it been going?” Ichigo suddenly asked. “With Renji, I mean.”
Rukia stared intently at her hands. “I don’t know… He moved out that same day. I haven’t really seen him since.”
Her friend frowned. “Oh.”
“Yeah…”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I talked to nii-sama about it.” She answered. “After explaining what went down, he thinks it is better if we do not get back together.”
Ichigo nodded. He hadn’t needed for Rukia to explain everything to him. He knew how terrible the situation actually was from seeing her that day. “Sounds reasonable.”
“Yes.” She said, playing with her fingers. “I’ve already petitioned for a divorce.” She admitted.
“That’s… a really big step. Are you sure?”
Rukia stared directly at his eyes. “Ironically, I have less doubts right now than when I married him.”
Ichigo tried to smile comfortingly. “Then, it’s for the best. I support you.”
She smiled back. “Thank you.”
“But… what about Ichika?”
Rukia’s smile disappeared. She sighed loudly. “Of course, she didn’t really understand why her father was gone when she came back. I think she thought it’d be temporary. But when I told her I wanted to divorce Renji, she… snapped. Ichika has her father’s temper. She grew angry thinking it had been my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Ichigo said.
Rukia shook her head. “I know I’m at fault too. Maybe I’m even guiltier about our crumbling marriage. I stopped trying long ago.”
“I understand the feeling.” He said.
“I take it you and Orihime are not getting back together?” She asked him.
“Nope.” He shrugged.
“Care to elaborate?”
“It’s just… after the fight we had, after the things we said, there was honestly no turning back. I don’t really want to stay married to her, and I honestly think it’s best for Orihime too.” He explained. “When you start a relationship for the wrong reasons, it’s bound to crumble.”
“And you started yours for wrong reasons?” Rukia asked, intrigued.
“All kinds of them.” Ichigo said sarcastically. “You didn’t?”
“Never really thought about it.” She said. “In hindsight… yeah, maybe.”
“Kazui worries me, though.” He admitted. “He’s been asking when I’m coming back home. I’m not even sure what Orihime has told him, but he’s definitely unaware I already filed for divorce.”
“You need to tell him soon.”
“I also need to tell him I’m not even planning on staying in Karakura.” Ichigo blurted out.
“What?” Rukia asked, shocked. “You’re moving?”
Ichigo scratched the back of his head. “Well, one of the reasons why my marriage wasn’t working was that I’m not happy being a doctor in my father’s clinic. I’ve always wanted to do something else. Be somewhere else. I feel like I’ve been static for way too long.” He paused, sipping water. “I… actually, it’s gonna sound insane to you, probably, but I really want to be a Shinigami again. Full-time.”
She just looked at him. “Even if it’s dangerous and you might die and leave your son?”
He chuckled. “I already feel dead most of the time. Without doing something I’m fully committed to, I don’t think I’ll be able to feel alive. I owe Kazui my own mental well-being to be a good dad. And, let’s face it, being a Shinigami is something I’ve always wanted to do, but didn’t have the courage after the war.”
“It, honestly, always surprised me you stopped with your Shinigami duties.” Rukia told him. “I thought that you… that you’d come back, here, for real.”
Ichigo nodded. “I was scared of Yhwach’s threat. Of doing something that’d make me happy. And then…” He sighed. “And then something happened that made me want to stay as far away as possible from here.”
She wetted her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. She laughed awkwardly. “Well, if you have your mind set on this, then I support you. I’ll write a letter of recommendation to Kyouraku-taichou for you, not that you need it, of course. And… if you’re lucky, you’ll get a post in my squad.” She added, nudging him with her elbow.
“Thank you, Rukia. There’s nothing I’d want more.” He said, honestly, his deep eyes boring into hers.
They gazed into each other’s eyes, getting lost in the moment. Neither knew who leaned in first, but, in the blink of an eye, they were kissing. It was a passionate kiss, full of raw emotions they’d never dare to speak out loud. Ichigo’s hands gently caressed her cheeks, keeping her close. Rukia grabbed his neck, holding him for dear life. They pulled back. Lips bruised from the exchange. Cheeks red. Eyes sparkling.
“Rukia.” Ichigo practically purred.
The sound of his voice broke her out of the euphoric state she had been in. Wide-eyed, she pulled away. “No.” She whispered, horrified.
“Rukia!” Ichigo exclaimed, alarmed.
“No! We can’t!” Rukia said, standing up and putting as much distance between herself and Ichigo as she could. “Not yet at least!” She added, after looking at his crestfallen expression.
Ichigo moved to stand right in front of her. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. And I’m willing to keep on waiting, forever if necessary. You’re worth it.”
Rukia gasped, shocked. “Ichigo…”
“I’ve already made up my mind about what I want. It’s time you do the same.” On that note, he left, leaving her shell-shocked.
Weak-kneed, she slumped on the ground, heart beating faster than ever.
Ichigo’s words were far more dangerous than he realized.
Rukia helped pack Ichika’s last belongings. The girl kept crying as she put her stuff away. Her mother felt distressed about the whole situation, but she knew that, in the long run, it’d be for the better.
“I think this is all.” Rukia said, as she inspected the room.
“I don’t know why we have to move.” Ichika complained, as she put the last object inside a box.
The mother sighed. “I can’t stay in this house. I need fresh air. I need a change.”
“You wouldn’t need a change if you hadn’t left dad.” The girl muttered.
“Ichika.” Rukia called her, sounding serious. “Sit.” She instructed her daughter, pointing to the empty floor.
The girl grumbled but complied, pouting as she sat in front of her mother.
“You know, I’ve known your father for almost my entire life.” Rukia said, recalling her earliest memories of living in the Rukongai, along the rest of their friends. “But there was a point in our lives when we didn’t speak to each other.” She explained.
“You didn’t?” Ichika asked, curious.
“For over forty years, we didn’t hold a single conversation. That was when your uncle adopted me, and I joined my squad.” She explained. “I met… other people, different people. And I… something terrible happened during those years. When you’re older, I’ll tell you everything. What I want to say with all of these is that, during those years, I changed. Your father changed. When we rekindled our relationship, we weren’t the same people we had been when we parted.”
“But you became friends again, right? You fell in love!” The girl exclaimed.
Rukia nodded. “Yes. We did. We were friends again. Almost as if nothing had happened. Almost.” She then looked at her daughter with a troubled expression. “Then, the Great War happened, and we changed once more.”
“But you won!”
She sighed. “At a great cost. One you’re too young to understand. But, back then, we felt as if we could only trust in each other. Then, our courtship began. We felt that we needed to move fast, make the most out of everything. And we got married way too soon.”
Ichika frowned. “You never loved him, then?”
Rukia shook her head furiously. “No! I loved him, very much. We just aren’t suited for each other, but we refused to see it.” She gathered her daughter in her arms. “I want you to know that I don’t regret marrying your father, and, above else, I don’t regret having you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. It’s just… my wishes are different from your father’s. And, had we stayed together, we would have only hurt you and hurt each other. It’s for the best.”
Ichika broke down. “But I don’t wanna move! I don’t wanna be away from dad!”
“Oh, sweetheart! I know it’s difficult, but you’re going to love our new house. And you can still see your father whenever you want. In fact, you’re gonna stay with him some days. Everything will sort itself out, you’ll see.” Rukia comforted her daughter, rubbing her little arms.
The girl nodded, though she looked unconvinced.
They finished packing. Outside, a few members of her squad were already waiting for them to help pick up their stuff. Rukia was surprised at seeing them but smiled when Kiyone and Sentarou gave her a thumbs up. Together, they all went to Rukia’s new house. It was a little farther away from the neighborhood were the other had been, but it was closer to the 13th Squad barracks. It was also bigger, a fact which was not ignored by Byakuya, but, when pressed, Rukia just shrugged and told him it was ‘just in case.’ Byakuya knew exactly what she meant. He was not sure if he was mad or glad about it, though.
Only time would tell.
Ichigo and Kazui ate ice cream silently at the park. The boy hadn’t said much the whole day, no matter how hard his father had tried to cheer him up. Ichigo knew what was going on, but didn’t know how to approach the subject. What made it worse was that this was their last day together before Ichigo moved permanently to the Soul Society. Kyouraku had been more than happy to accept him, and Ichigo felt more excitement than he had felt in years. His only problem was that moving meant being far away from his son. He was going to visit him. But, he didn’t know how long it’d be before they met again.
“So…” Ichigo started saying, once he had finished his ice cream.
“So, you’re leaving.” Kazui stated.
“Yes.” The father nodded. “But I’ll come back to visit you soon.”
The boy didn’t say anything else. He kept staring at the ground.
“Or you can visit me too. Captain Kyouraku gave me some passes for you, grandpa, and your aunts.” Ichigo kept saying, hoping to comfort his child.
“Do you really have to leave?” Kazui asked instead, his big eyes looking at him with hope. They reminded him too much of his mother’s eyes.
“Yeah, I do.” He said. “It’s something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time. But,” he added, after seeing Kazui was close to tears, “that doesn’t mean I don’t love you or that I don’t want to be with you. I do. But, to be a good dad to you, I need to find myself first.”
The boy nodded. “You need to be happy again.”
“That’s right.”
They went silent again, just enjoying each other’s company. When it was time to leave, father and son walked side by side.
“You know, you smile more now.” Kazui told him before they said goodbye. “I’m glad.”
Ichigo couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I love what you’ve done to the place.” Ichigo said as he entered Rukia’s office.
“I’m not sure if you’re actually complimenting me or being sarcastic.” She muttered as she placed two cups of tea on her table. “But I’m going to take it as a compliment.”
“Jeez, I try to be nice to you and you take it the wrong way.” He complained, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Years of experience speak against you.” Rukia replied, smirking when Ichigo huffed.
“I could say the same of you.”
They both laughed.
It was nice sitting here with each other. Almost too nice. Ever since their kiss, they had not spoken about it again. However, there was something palpable in the air which made them uneasy. It was as if both were waiting for something to happen. But neither was willing to make the first move. After all, one mistake could hurt their friendship, and their bond was the very thing which kept them going.
“So, have you gotten used to the squad yet?” Rukia enquired.
“I guess. I mean, I already knew your way of life before coming here.” Ichigo answered, shrugging.
“And is your room alright?” She asked again.
“Yeah. It’s nice. Better than my first apartment.” He joked. “Why? Do I get privileges for being the captain’s friend?”
She hummed. “Maybe. If you play your cards right, that is.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Then, Rukia looked down at his cup. “It looks like you’re out of tea. Let me serve you more.”
“Don’t worry, I’m on it.”
Both reached for the kettle at the same time, their fingertips brushing against each other. They both gasped loudly after feeling an electric shock from touching. They pulled away and simply stared at each other, at a loss for what to say.
“Rukia.” Ichigo called her. “We can’t keep running away forever.”
“But… but it’s wrong!” She exclaimed.
“How so? You’re not married anymore. I’m not married either.” He said matter-of-factly. “What kept us apart is no longer there.”
“But, my daughter─”
“Wants to see you happy, just like my son wants me to be happy. I don’t think they’d be against this.”
Rukia sighed, feeling her sanity disappear with each argument Ichigo gave her. She wanted to give in, but was too afraid of the consequences.
“Rukia.” He called her again, softly this time. “Look at me.”
She did as she was told. Her eyes gazed into his. Ichigo was looking at her so gently it made her melt deep inside.
“Is it really so wrong to love you?” He asked her, voice barely a whisper.
Ichigo finally said them. The words they had ignored for over a decade. Rukia wanted to shout, she wanted to run away, she wanted to do so many things, but Ichigo stopped her by reaching across the table and kissing her. It was as if time had stopped. All that was in her mind were Ichigo’s lips against her own. She moaned loudly as his tongue graced her lips, opening her mouth greedily. “Ichigo.” She murmured, and then pulled him closer as she crawled on the table. She briefly heard the cups and her paperwork fall to the ground as she sat on the table, Ichigo pulling her closer by her sash. Their chests smacked against each other, and Rukia fell on his lap. She abruptly stopped and stood up.
“Rukia.” He groaned, missing her presence already.
“We really can’t, Ichigo.” She kept saying, more to herself than to him.
“Why?” Ichigo asked. “Give me one good reason to stop this.” He demanded.
“I…”
“You can’t. Because, deep down, you know you want this as much as I do. Because you love me like I love you.” He said, with each word getting progressively closer to her until Rukia’s back hit the wall. She was cornered.
“Ichigo.” She all but whispered.
“Tell me you don’t love me, and I won’t ever bring this up again.” Ichigo said, his mouth so close his breath mingled with hers. He had both arms on each side of her head. Their noses touched.
It wasn’t fair. Not one bit. She really wanted to push him away, she really did. But she just couldn’t. Because she wanted him more than she would ever be able to explain. Because she loved him. Rukia loved Kurosaki Ichigo more than life itself. She had never been brave enough to admit it. But her time had ran out. Through the years, her love for him had only grown stronger, and it seemed it had been the same for Ichigo. Distance hadn’t mattered. Neither had their marriages. However, the same fear from before still lingered, always at the back of her head. If Rukia went ahead and gave in to her wishes, there would be no turning back. But rejecting Ichigo meant losing him for good.
Rukia wasn’t willing to let that happen. Not after everything.
“I love you.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and next thing she knew her mouth had crashed on his.
Her hands found their way to his face, cradling tenderly as her tongue explored his mouth. Meanwhile, Ichigo’s own hands descended to her waist, and with each kiss, he pulled her closer and closer until their bodies were firmly pressed against each other. He pulled away from her, making Rukia whine at the loss of his lips only to whimper a second later when he started dropping tender kisses down her cheeks to her jaw. A fire in her belly lit when Ichigo started sucking down her neck. She moaned and grabbed the back of his head. Even if she couldn’t see him, she knew he was smirking.
“Don’t be so happy about it.” Rukia muttered between pants.
Ichigo raised his head and grinned at her. “Can’t help it. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”
All breath left her lungs as she looked at him wide-eyed. Then Rukia smiled down at him and caressed his cheek. “Me too.”
His smile only widened and then his lips were on hers again. She sighed in ecstasy as Ichigo led her to a rhythm of his own. She let herself follow him. Rukia would follow him to the end of the world. As they made out, Ichigo slowly took her haori off, letting it fall on the ground. Then, he grabbed her by the hips and pushed her up. She gasped his name as her back hit the wall and then her legs wrapped themselves around his waist. He smirked at her before kissing her senseless.
Through it all, Rukia was dimly aware that the temperature in the room had gone up. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew what would happen if they kept this up. But she soon realized she didn’t care. She remembered all the nights in which she had fantasized this would happen. Reality was far better than any fantasy. Pushing all qualms away, Rukia started opening his kosode, revealing his well-toned body. Greedily, she started touching his abs. Ichigo pulled away from the kiss and groaned.
“Rukia.” He moaned letting his head fall on her shoulder.
It was her turn to smirk at him. “I get to have fun too.”
That made Ichigo growl. “You’re so getting punished for that.”
His lips started biting down her neck as his hands started massaging her sides. They soon slipped under her robes, caressing her bare skin. Goosebumps started appearing where he touched her. Rukia whimpered with each touch. It felt so good it should have been a crime. She let her head fall to the wall as she relished in his ministrations. She was wet already. And from the feeling pressing on her thighs, Ichigo was hard. She shivered as she felt him. But nothing could compare to the moment in which his expert hands found her breasts. They started massaging them, his fingers teasing her nipples. Rukia could only mewl in response.
“You like that, don’t you?” He said huskily on her ear.
“Yes.” She replied, lost in the moment.
“Let me see you.” Ichigo pleaded, hand already pulling her sash.
She nodded and watched intently as he oh too slowly pulled her kosode away revealing her breasts. They were already pink from his earlier kneading. Her nipples were completely erect. Ichigo stared at her intently, dumbstruck. She had to push away the need to cover herself. Enraptured, he gently squeezed on them with open palms.
“You’re so beautiful.” He told her as he kept massaging her.
Rukia blushed bright red as if she were a virgin. “Really?”
Ichigo smiled down at her, eyes full with love. “You.” He said as he kissed her temple. “Are.” Then he kissed one of her cheeks. “The.” Then the other. “Most.” His lips touched her nose. “Beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He finished by giving her a tender kiss on the lips.
She melted in his embrace.
“In that case…” Rukia said as she let her robes fall down, revealing her full body to his hungry eyes.
Wordlessly, Ichigo too discarded his opened kosode, and then claimed her lips once more. She happily let him ravish her mouth. She started playing with his hair as he grunted in approval. Then, she let her hands fall to his chest as she started feeling him up. He pulled away and started biting down her neck again. Then on her shoulder until finally his mouth fell to her right breast. Rukia moaned loudly as he started sucking on her nipple while he kneaded on her other breast. Ichigo’s free hand went to cup her ass. She gripped on his hair as he continued, switching breasts to not let even one inch of her body unattended. When her breasts were red and slick, Ichigo fell on his knees as he kissed down her breasts to her belly to her tummy, his eyes never straying from hers. His hands moved down her waist to her hips and then to her butt once more. As he kissed her navel, he started playing with the sash that kept her hakama on.
“Can I?” Ichigo asked her.
Rukia rubbed her thighs together and then nodded. Slowly, he untied them and pulled down her body until they reached the ground. Her underwear soon followed suit. Ichigo stared at her, his breath feeling hot in her core.
“You’re wet already.” He muttered, pleasantly surprised at this. “But you can be even wetter.” He added, already smirking at her. He pushed his face into her groin as he lifted one of her legs on his shoulder.
“W-what are you doing?!” Rukia exclaimed.
“You’ll see.” Ichigo answered her, still smirking.
His tongue then made a wet trail from her clit to her folds. Rukia whimpered as she clutched his head once more for dear life. Ichigo grabbed her hips to hold her in place as he started lapping down her core. She closed her eyes as she let all feelings wash over her. She had never experienced anything like this before. Ichigo’s tongue swirled first on her clit and then directly on her core as his nose hit her clit with each movement. Rukia was well aware she was being too loud. But she couldn’t make herself care. This sensation was the best one she had ever felt. Or so she thought until Ichigo slipped two fingers inside of her. If it weren’t for his hand still holding her in place, she was sure she would have fallen down. He was simply magical. With each movement, both from his tongue and his fingers pumping her, she reached heaven. Rukia started gyrating herself on his face, making his nose hit that sweet spot even more. Her juices flooded down from her as she felt something tightened inside her. She was close. So, so close. Ichigo must have felt it too for he increased his ministrations. With a cry, Rukia tilted her head back and let herself come undone. She quite literally saw stars as Ichigo kept on eating her out as she released. As she finished, she looked down just in time to see him pull away, an infuriating smirk on his face.
“Told you, you could be wetter.” He said huskily.
His orange hair was tussled from the way she had gripped his head.
His face, neck and chest were stained with her juices. They made his whole body glow.
He looked simply marvelous.
Rukia fell into his waiting arms and kissed him. She tasted herself in his mouth and it was a divine experience. As they continued kissing, her wandering hand touched his happy trail, and then followed it only to find his hakama. She untied it, pulling it down enough to reveal his cock. Ichigo was completely stiff, and he groaned when he felt her hand starting to grab it. Rukia stared at it with wonder. He was big and ready for her. She did tell him so, only for Ichigo to start chuckling.
“Glad you like it.” He told her, as he kicked off his pants.
Rukia grabbed him again, moving her hand up and down. He moaned her name and held her close to him. He dropped open mouthed kisses on her shoulder as she worked. When pre-cum started leaking from his cock, Ichigo pushed her hands away. She stared at him questioningly, but instead of answering, he made her straddle him.
“Rukia.” Ichigo called to her. “Ride me.” He told her, his eyes sparkling with want.
The thought made her wetter. Rukia nodded and with adrenaline pulsing through her veins, she put both her legs around Ichigo’s waist. He helped her guiding his cock until it touched her folds. Both whimpered at the sensation. With a nod, they worked together and, with one swift motion, Rukia sheathed him inside her. She couldn’t help the cry that came out of her.
“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Ichigo groaned out as he instantly pulled her closer to him.
“I feel you everywhere.” She murmured as she let her head fall on his chest.
He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘you’ve got no idea.’ Then he lovingly kissed her forehead. “Together?” He asked her.
“Together.” Rukia replied, looking into his eyes. She found lust and need but also so much love that made her lose her breath.
She started descending on him as Ichigo thrusted up at the same time. It caused them to moan loudly. They repeated the same actions until they found their own rhythm. It was a shared work. Rukia grabbed him by the shoulders to meet his powerful thrusts as she lowered herself on him. Meanwhile, Ichigo helped her out by holding her hips and guiding her down. With each thrust, his cock hit her right in her clit, giving her even more pleasure.
“I… Ichi… Ah! ... Ichigo!” Rukia croaked out his name each time he moved deep inside her.
“Rukia.” Ichigo groaned. “Rukia. Rukia. Rukia.” He said her name like a prayer.
“Ichigo!” She said as he rammed into her. “I… I love you!”
“I love you too, Rukia!” He moaned.
“Together?”
“Together.”
Rukia entangled her arms around his neck as she kissed him. Ichigo kissed her back, grabbing her ass to slam into her harder. She cried into the kiss. He could feel that she was close, so he helped her out by rubbing her clit as he thrusted. Rukia pulled back from the kiss to cry out. Ichigo crashed their mouths together, keeping her quiet. He never stopped his powerful thrusts, maximizing her pleasure. Once she was done, she dropped her head on his shoulder, using her arms to steady herself. He kept at it until he felt his release come closer. He let himself go, thrusting into her wildly. Rukia moaned and came again with him, feeling his seed as it filled her up. After he was done, he let himself fall down on the ground, taking her with him.
“That… was… amazing!” Rukia said between pants, giddy and pleased.
Ichigo grinned down at her. “Really?” He asked her, playing with her hair.
“Really.” She answered, burying her face into his chest.
He pecked her nose and then snuggled her. “I’m glad.”
Rukia giggled and then pulled him in for a sweet kiss.
They remained silent, basking in each other’s presence. It was a deeply intimate moment. Just lying there, tangled up in each other. However, there was something bothering Rukia.
“Ichigo.” She called him, sitting up to see him better.
“Hmm?” He hummed, still playing with her long hair.
“Why weren’t you on top?” She asked him. Her tone wasn’t accusatory. Just curious.
“What do you mean?” Ichigo asked her as he too sat down.
“Well… I just thought since it was the first time… you might like to be on top…” She said sheepishly.
He pondered over this for a moment. “I think the way we did it was fitting.”
Rukia raised an eyebrow at that explanation.
“I mean, we normally do things together. We work to achieve a goal. That position allowed us to work at the same time.” Ichigo answered. “Not that I don’t want to be on top!” He added, turning red and shaking his head vigorously. “It’s just, it felt better that way! You can also be on top! I don’t mind! Anyway is great!” He exclaimed, still bright red.
She watched his outburst awestruck. Anyway is great. The phrase echoed in her head. Of course. That was so Ichigo. She couldn’t help but giggle until she was out right laughing.
“H-hey! It isn’t funy!” He complained, utterly mortified. “It was just a fantasy of mine!”
Rukia finished laughing and then kissed his nose in the same loving way he had done before. “Fool.” She called him. “I loved it. It’s just… I… I’d never been on top before this.”
Ichigo looked at her in understanding. “Well, you can be on top whenever you want.”
She flashed him a beautiful smile. “Noted… And, speaking of fantasies.” Rukia said as she straddled him and whispered something in his ear.
His eyes widened comically. “You’re serious?”
She nodded. “We can take this to my house. Ichika’s gone for the night, so we’ll have the place all to ourselves.”
Ichigo smirked and kissed her.
“What are we waiting for?” He said as he stood up.
Rukia followed him and then looked around the place. “Oh, god. My office’s a mess!”
He just laughed. “I can help you clean before we leave.”
“You better. It’s your fault after all!”
“My fault? You weren’t saying that when you were screaming my name to the heavens!”
“Shut up!” Flustered, Rukia said as she covered his mouth with her hand. “Shut up!”
“Fine.”
“Are you gonna help me clean up or not?”
“Coming!”
As they put their clothes back on, Ichigo couldn’t help but look at the place with a smirk. Saying it was a mess was an understatement.
It was a good thing he had asked Kiyone and Sentarou to leave them alone and keep people out of the way before meeting Rukia.
Although, as loud as they were being, maybe the whole Soul Society had heard them anyway.
Oh well.
As he watched Rukia move around, and the smile that hadn’t left her face ever since their love making, Ichigo knew it had been all worth it.
#ichiruki#ichiruki fanfiction#ichiruki smut#you've been warned this is long#also extremely shameless#I regret nothing
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Symphony - Chapter Five
A03
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, tenor prodigy and top student at the Salchow Institute of Music, is looking for an accompanist.
And word around campus is that Yakov Feltsman, Head of Music and conductor of the prestigious Institute Band, is looking for new members.
Yuuri Katsuki is just looking to survive his next Piano recital
OR
The Yuri on CONCERT Music School AU that we all deserve
Pairings: Viktor Nikiforov/ Yuuri Katsuki
Rating: Teen And Up
Content Warning: Anxiety
A/N: *bows profusely* I'm so so sorry it took me this long, and I'm sorry it was a bit of a shorter chapter!
After finishing Fever I had to literally purge myself and get my mind back into this fic properly. This chapter felt like a bit of a warm up - getting ready to throw myself into the deep end that is the story to come. AND BOY AM I READY to throw myself in. I've never wanted to write something so much in my life.
AND ITS THANKS TO ALL OF YOU GREMLINS! Thank you so much for all of the support - I actually don't know how to describe how much it encourages me. Knowing there's people out there who actually want to listen to some crazy story I've dreamt up, it makes me want to wake up in the morning. I hope I can do this story justice and give you some half-decent food to keep us all satiated until YOI gets back from the war...
No music this chapter, but there'll be plenty in the next one! I'm writing it as we speak!I also hope to update this fic on a bit of a stricter schedule - After this weekend I'll be posting a new chapter (sometimes two) every Monday night PST! (Give or take because I'm at the other end of the world and Monday night is actually Tuesday evening for me~) I really want to challenge myself to write this fic as fully as I can, and I don't like keeping people waiting!
And also, of course, find me on twitter or tumblr if you have any questions. I also do art when my brain wants a break from writing which I post there, and I've met some great members of the YOI fandom already around my art and writing so I'm always open to making more! (YALL KNOW WHO YOU ARE, YOU SICKENINGLY BEAUTIFUL HUMANS)
ANYWAY LOTS OF BELATED LOVE,
- Min
Shortly after the practice session, Yuuri had completely thrown himself into his study. His anxiety was nothing new - after however many years of bathroom stalls and car parks and stage wings soaked in fear, the panic attacks were like old friends. And every time they rolled through him, passing through like a tornado and leaving him weak, his first thought was always music.
At least he had his music.
As a child, Yuuri had been blessed with plenty of time to practice. His life was easy-going in Hasetsu - school was simple, friends were simple, home was simple. If anything threw him into an anxious spin, nobody paid any mind when he would slip away quietly to his room, or sprint to Minako’s then studio to use her grand. It was a sort of therapy, he’d decided. There were probably better ways for him to find relief - ways that didn’t border on obsession - but he reasoned that if it worked, if it wasn’t hurting anyone else, then how bad could it be?
When he’d practice to calm himself, it didn’t matter what he played, so long as his fingers were moving along the keys. Sometimes it was Liszt. Sometimes Chopin. Sometimes jazz or simple accompaniment pieces. He even had a small folder of pop songs and film scores that slipped into his rotation every now and then. Phichit always loved listening to Yuuri play pieces from The King and the Skater – his ‘absolute favourite movie of all time, no exceptions’- though that usually only happened when they were drinking at home, Phichit screeching along at the top of his lungs while Yuuri stumbled his way through the chords.
Now that Yuuri was focussed on his thesis and composition, he had plenty to fill up his practice time. And so, after the disastrous practice session, blinded slightly by tears and desperate to get his hands on his keyboard, bitterly afraid of running into Viktor, he’d come home with Phichit and all but chained himself to his piano. Had run over the notes from his last session with Lilia. Practiced scales and glissandos and tremolos until his nails dug into his skin. Written pages after pages of ideas - notes erased and moved like chess pieces across the bars. Ideas scrawled in fine pencil in the margins - sometimes in English, sometimes in Japanese.
Very soon, as the days drifted past, the events of that practice session - and with it, the painful thoughts of Viktor - drowned into quiet at the back of his mind. Phichit was kind enough not to bring it up, though he was quite busy with his own practice and some latest video project he’d been commissioned to do.
Sometimes the thoughts would resurface - particularly if Yuuri spotted a flash of silver hair across the quad, or heard someone say his name in passing - but all in all, Yuuri felt he was slowly putting the whole thing behind him.
It had been a relatively productive week by the time Yuuri’s next session with Lilia rolled around. He was still slightly nervous - certain that she’d be just as cold and ruthless as their first meeting - but the edge was taken off ever so slightly since he knew, now, what to expect. He almost felt comforted, knowing with certainty that he was going to be chewed up and spat out by the diva. Kind of fitting.
He deserved it, after all.
Because that was the one constant as his mind reeled. As he tried to make sense of the strange events surrounding Viktor. As he tried to reason and brute force his way through all his emotions with some sort of logic.
He wasn’t good enough for him. Wasn’t good enough for The Institute Band. Wasn’t good enough to even be here at SIM…
“Do I have your complete attention, Mr. Katsuki?” A voice cut across his thoughts.
“Oh! Yes, Madame Baranovskaya. Of course,” he quickly straightened in the piano stool, Lilia was a constant presence behind him as she scanned his movements. He’d drifted off while playing again – working his way through the first movement of his composition piece to try and show her what he’d been working on.
“I admire your appreciation of the musicality of your piece, Mr. Katsuki, but we’re strictly working on tempo today,” she said coolly, eyes flashing as she looked down at him. Yuuri’s heart sank ever so slightly – if only he could keep his mind in check for one second perhaps he’d be worthy of Lilia’s time. But, of course, who was he kidding? He hardly had any right to be here, under her supervision, let alone at this school…
“And I do believe,” she said in an oddly soft tone, “This piece was originally intended to be played in a major key, correct?”
Yuuri blinked, furrowing his brow. Had he been playing in a minor key? He could hardly remember…
“Yes, of course” he dipped his head in embarrassment.
“Celestino did warn me about your tendency to get lost in the music,” she continued, pursing her lips as she appraised him. Her gaze never failed to set his teeth on edge. Like he was on display, completely exposed and slowly being picked apart. He swallowed as the silence dragged on, bracing himself for the inevitable reprimand.
“You can use that to your advantage, if you have someone skilled enough to record your playing,” and her voice was rather quiet. Almost as if she were speaking to herself. “You have a unique way of phrasing that would do you wonders if you were actually paying attention.”
Yuuri tried to hide the blush he could feel warming his ears at her words. Was it …meant to be some kind of compliment? He’d never heard someone speak that way about his playing before.
“I’ll see what I can do,” and her voice was back to its usual strict tone. “For now, Mr. Katsuki. Tempo.”
Their session lasted most of the afternoon, the sun dipping low as they came to a close after hours of metronome instructed exercises and Lilia’s constant reprimands and observations. It felt like Yuuri had run a mental marathon by the time she called the session to a close.
But it was a good feeling, in its own way. He knew he’d hardly have the mental energy to worry about running into Viktor on his way to the bus. To worry about what Lilia really thought of him as a student. It was like a kind of mental static – too exhausted to even bring up coherent thoughts as he slowly packed his sheet music and notes away.
Lilia offered him a few pointers for his practice at home, giving strict instructions for their next session. He bid her farewell and made his way to the door, only to be stopped by the sound of her clearing her throat.
“And, Mr. Katsuki,” she called after him. He turned back toward her and took in her severe silhouette as she stood by the grand, expression unreadable.
“Congratulations,” she said, mouth a hard line, though her eyes seemed … uncharacteristically warm.
Yuuri blinked.
“Congratulations?” he asked quietly.
Congratulations for what?
“Try not to celebrate too much this weekend,” and Yuuri all but choked as he watched Lilia … smile? It was thin, hardly reaching her eyes, but it was a smile nonetheless.
Celebrate?
What on earth—
Yuuri didn’t get the chance to question her, however, as her phone suddenly rang loudly, filling the room with a strange ringtone. Some kind of high staccato singing. She picked it up quickly and waved for him to leave, greeting whoever had called in a stoic manner.
Yuuri hurried out of the room. The whole meeting was quite strange – stranger than his first meeting that still gave him chills when he remembered how cold Lilia had been with him. Despite how exhausted he felt, he couldn’t help but gnaw on the thought in his mind;
Why had she congratulated him?
He was still worrying away at the question when he rounded the corner and came into one of the common areas. It was a large, spacious room with high ceilings – couches and coffee tables huddled in one corner with tables and chairs filling what remained. There were large expanses of wall space taken up by posters and flyers of every kind. It was the main common area at the school – the one where all of the latest news and postings always ended up. Things like simple advertisements for local concerts or gigs that students were involved in. Flyers looking for roommates or accompanists.
But there was also one wall dedicated to official postings. It was a dividing wall that cut through the room, and it was often crowded at this time of year.
Today it was positively crammed with students.
The noise was overwhelming, Yuuri finding himself flinching ever so slightly as he realised how many people he’d have to pass just to get to the exit. There was shouting and screaming, what sounded like someone practicing scales on a clarinet. There was laughter, and as the crowd came into view, Yuuri could see countless people jostling each other for space around the wall.
Yuuri distantly remembered that today was important, though he couldn’t remember why. There must be a posting – parts for the SIM Musical perhaps? Or maybe there’d been new chairs announced for the orchestra?. Yuuri knew none of it would apply to him, however. He hadn’t auditioned in years, preferring to just focus on the orchestra when he needed to. He ducked his head to make sure nobody recognised him, tucking his chin into his scarf and making his way toward the exits.
A familiar voice rang out across the din and he froze in his tracks.
“Yuuri! Yuuri, over here!”
Viktor.
Viktor’s voice.
His legs turned to water the second the realisation hit him, and he barely had the strength to turn towards the sound. He cursed his high-functioning anxiety for choosing to auto-pilot right at that moment. He wanted nothing more than to pretend he hadn’t heard him and bolt for the doors, but his body seemed to move on its own. Wooden and puppeteered by years of trying to appear normal in social situations. Not to mention the uncomfortable flip his heart did in his chest that took control of his pulse quickly.
He turned to see Viktor standing at the front of the crowd, shouldering his way through and making his way towards him with a beaming grin lighting up his features. It almost hurt to look at. Like staring straight into the sun.
Yuuri figured Viktor must be greeting him out of pity. He could see a few of the school’s best and brightest hanging near where Viktor was standing by the posting wall, so it was unsettling to see Viktor prying himself away from his elite friends, focussed on Yuuri instead. Christophe Giacometti, the school’s top double bassist, stood out instantly, his curly blonde hair all too visible in the sea of browns and blacks. He was one of Viktor’s closest friends, Yuuri knew, and the man seemed to be shouting something after Viktor, though his voice was lost as someone blasted a note on a trombone nearby.
“Congratulations, Yuuri!” Viktor cried, breaking free of the crowd and all but running over to him. The uneasiness of Lilia’s words returned with full force.
Congratulations for what?
“V—Viktor,” Yuuri said in a small voice by way of a greeting, though it sounded more like a question, a deep sense of dread beginning to work it’s way into his chest. He hadn’t spoken with Viktor since their last practice – hadn’t replied to the one text message he’d sent. He hadn’t even opened it, too petrified of what it might entail to even read the opening line. Viktor would surely be offended at Yuuri’s silence. It had been just over a week since their practice, after all.
“I’m so thrilled you decided to audition in the end,” Viktor said breathlessly, rearranging his shirt after being tossed around in the crowd. He stood just slightly too close, eyes bright as he watched Yuuri with all the excitement of a child.
Wait…
Audition?
“Wh—what?” Yuuri’s voice came out as a strangled squeak as he felt himself grow pale. Audition? As in—?
But before he could finish the thought, another familiar voice rang out across the room. He turned to see Phichit, red-faced and gasping for air as he all but sprinted toward Yuuri from the doors on the other side of the room, saxophone slung precariously across his shoulder, satchel bouncing against his hip as he ran.
“Yuuri my love!” He all but screamed, crashing into Yuuri with full force, crushing him in a hug. Yuuri barely had time to register Viktor clearing his throat behind him, crying out as Phichit tackled him.
“I’m so sorry! Did you find out already? Shit! I can’t believe I missed it! All that work for nothing,” and around Phichit’s senseless rambling Yuuri managed to gasp a few confused words and worm his way out of the hug.
“Phichit, what on earth is going on—?” but there was another strong grip on his shoulder that froze the words in his throat, Yuuri crying out in shock as he spun around. It was Otabek – the Otabek, from their practice session. And he was standing over him, clapping him on the back, face stoic as he nodded. The man offered a thumbs up, blinking once, not saying a word, before walking past him toward the exit. Yuuri watched him wide-eyed and more confused than ever as Otabek wandered toward a small figure with a guitar slung over his back.
Toward Yuri. The other Yuri. With blonde hair peeking out from a black hoodie, leopard print across its back. The smaller man glanced back to him with piercing eyes, waving at him in a way that seemed almost … friendly?
It was all too much. Why were they all here? Why was Yuri waving at him? Why was Viktor bouncing up and down where he stood, Phichit running his mouth like a stream?
Why was everyone so excited?
“Phichit,” Yuuri’s voice was weak, breaking ever so slightly as that same sense of dread bloomed into full-blown fear. “What's going on?”
“Huh?” Phichit glanced at him worriedly, stopping his rambling as he took in Yuuri’s expression, though he still had a ridiculously wide grin plastered on his face. “What do you mean?”
“Why is everyone congratulating me?” Yuuri whispered, eyes darting nervously between his best friend and Viktor as they stood, watching him like he was the only person in the world who didn’t know…
“Oh, Yuuri…” Phichit’s eyes grew wide, his feet shuffling as he took a tentative step closer, hand reaching out instinctively. “It’s okay, don’t—“
“What did he mean by audition, Phichit?” Yuuri said distantly, the light from the wide windows flashing off his glasses, eyes hidden.
Phichit swallowed.
“Yuuri, I need you to take deep breaths,” Phichit said slowly, two hands out now. Wary.
“What did you do?” Yuuri all but whispered, feeling his stomach threaten to drop to the floor. Surely not. Surely Phichit would never…
“Well,” Phichit swallowed again, rubbing the back of his neck and throwing Viktor a desperate look. “You know that, ah, project? The video one?”
“You didn’t,” Yuuri breathed, taking a small step backwards as his legs threatened to give way. He could fit the pieces together easily enough. The video project. An audition. All the strange secrecy and vague answers.
“I may or may not have,” and Phichit’s eyes were concerned. Fearful. But there was that typical sparkle of mischief and excitement that – in any other circumstance – would have won Yuuri over.
But this was…
“Wait, what’s going on?” Viktor asked cheerily, face slightly confused as he glanced between the two friends. He spoke like someone at ease with slotting himself into conversations, and Yuuri found himself marvelling at the social confidence, despite it all.
“Ah, I’m a terrible friend,” Phichit said with an exasperated smile. “I filmed our practice the other day and sent it to Yakov by way of an audition.”
Yuuri felt like all of the words were coming at him from a great distance – like he’d suddenly slipped into a well, sound and light having trouble reaching his senses. Audition. Practice. Yakov. Film…
“Yuuri please, hear me out,” Phichit said quickly. “I knew you’d never have the balls to audition on your own and now the hard part’s out of the way! You were accepted!”
Yuuri blinked.
“No I wasn’t,” he whispered matter-of-factly, shaking his head ever so slightly. He couldn’t have been accepted, it must have been some kind of mistake.
“But you were, Yuuri!” Viktor said with a dazzling grin, eyes bright as he reached and gripped Yuuri by the shoulders. The touch sent flames licking along Yuuri’s veins, and if it weren’t for Viktor’s strong grip, he knew he would have fallen right then and there.
“Come and see!” and he was suddenly being whisked through the crowd, bodies pressing against him tightly as Viktor reached down to hold his hand, tugging him along after him like a kite, Phichit trailing behind with a steadying hand on his back.
They made their way to the posting wall, faces crammed towards the small piece of paper pinned to the centre of the board.
It read, in a simple non-descript font:
2016 Institute Band Members
Saxophones
Alto: Phichit Chulanont
Tenor1: Guang Hong Ji
Tenor2: Leo De La Iglesia
Trumpets
1st: Jean-Jaques Leroy
2nd: Sara Crispino
3rd: Seung-gil Lee
Trombones
1st: Emil Nikola
2nd: Michele Crispino
Rhythm
Double Bass: Christophe Giacometti
Guitar: Yuri Plisetsky
Percussion: Otabek Altin
Piano: Yuuri Katsuki
Vocalists
Viktor Nikiforov
Mila Babicheva
Practice this Thursday, March 16th, 6pm sharp
- Yakov Feltsman
Yuuri felt the ground fall away beneath him.
“Yuuri? Yuuri!” Phichit managed to catch him as he fell, holding his shoulders firmly and giving them a slight shake.
Yuuri distantly registered that Viktor was still holding him by the hand…
“It can’t be real,” Yuuri whispered, attempting to steady himself. Yakov had seen him practice – had seen his lack-lustre playing with Viktor and Yuri and Otabek there to outshine him at every turn. Had seen it and …
Accepted him?
“I can assure you, it’s real,” Viktor said with a smile, and as Phichit helped Yuuri stay on his feet, Yuuri noticed that Viktor was smiling at him warmly. But his eyes were … troubled? He seemed to be searching Yuuri’s face, trying to figure something out…
“I’m … sorry,” Yuuri managed to squeeze out, heart clenching painfully as he realise that Vikor was probably disappointed. Probably angry that Yuuri had run him around. “I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble…”
And Viktor’s face fell into a mask of confusion, brows knitting together as those piercing blue eyes continued to search Yuuri’s face. Despite the raucousness of the room, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel himself getting lost in them. Reminded of their first practice session at Minako’s studio…
And Viktor seemed to be about to say something, eyes fervent as he wet his lips, but a hand on Viktor’s shoulder had him turning around before he could speak.
“Congratulations, everyone!” a lilting voice cut across the crowd. Christophe Giacometti. He was about the same height as Viktor, leaning in to offer a knowing smile to Yuuri and Phichit as he joined their little circle at the front of the crowd, pressed close together.
“It’ll be nice to finally have some … fresh meat,” and Yuuri watched on in horror as Christophe licked his lips, eyes heavy-lidded. He seemed to be directing his flirting towards Phichit, who took it in his stride easily.
“I do hope you’re gentle with me,” and he laughed, light and easy. Of course. It was all so easy for him. For everyone.
Yuuri found himself running down the list again, taking in every name and feeling his heart stutter uncomfortably in his chest when he saw his own name nestled among them. He knew them all – all accomplished musicians. All ridiculously talented. All self-assured and socially confident and…
“Let’s get a drink to celebrate!” Christophe exclaimed, wrapping an arm effortlessly around Viktor’s shoulder.
Oh.
Oh.
Yuuri took in the gesture and felt a strange twist in his gut.
“Yes!” Phichit jumped on the spot, pumping his fist and letting out another giggle of excitement. Yuuri reached for Phichit’s sleeve, tugging ever so slightly to get his attention. No. Not drinking…
Phichit seemed to notice, chewing on his lower lip and leaning in to try and speak with him in confidence.
“Come on, Yuuri,” Phichit whispered behind his hand, making eyes at him that made Yuuri feel guilty and angry and... “I know you’re freaking out right now but trust me. This will do you the world of good,” and before Yuuri could protest, Phichit suddenly creased his brow and gave him a pleading look, eyes darting back to Christophe pointedly, who was now chatting away with a few of the other members who had gathered around them.
Yuuri took the hint. Phichit had had a crush on Chris for as long as Yuuri had had a crush on Viktor. Of course, Phichit would want to take up the opportunity to go out drinking with him.
In the whirl of emotions and shock and terror that started to simmer just under Yuuri’s skin, Yuuri found himself helpless when he saw Phichit’s expression. When he turned and saw Viktor’s expression, wrapped in Chris’ arms and gazing after him…
Hopefully?
“Oh do come, Yuuri,” Viktor said gently, eyes warm, mouth set in a soft smile. “At least let me buy you a drink to apologise.”
Yuuri furrowed his brow and moved to speak; “Apologise?” But the words were lost as his voice broke and Chris let loose a loud laugh. There was another tall man with a trumpet case in hand – Jean-Jaques, Yuuri distantly recalled – talking with him. Was he coming too?
Yuuri felt like he was drowning. Everyone wanted to celebrate. All smiles and laughter and loud, loud, loud.
And between Phichit’s desperate puppy dog eyes and Viktor’s piercing blue stare, Yuuri found himself nodding, though everything screamed at him to run.
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Overgrown Ruins - Sun-Kissed Ruins
I have an outline for a novel I want to write just to say I did ;;
The setting was hard for me to grasp but @lonelytofu made a really good Inktober prompt list that also works amazingly to help thing about worldbuilding!! I gotta play catch up but hopefully, it’s gonna get me going!
Also, this is gonna be my first time doing a first-person like journal in 5 years. I’m trying to get world building and fleshing out side-characters all in one go :q
Summary: An ancient evil has returned to the land of the living, and is completely lost. One of its minions goes to biggest city to help find someone to help rebuild, and help put a map together of a world they had left to grow.
Second part here: LINK
Index here: LINK
I didn’t expect to get a bite on the first day. We didn’t even have any land tilled yet; it just made sense to at least get our presence out there just in case anyone who knew crops hit desperate times.
“You have nothing ready, you’re located in a place I could get my head chopped off for wandering into by accident, and your only form of shelter are ruined buildings.” The first and only candidate stared at me, staying in the shade of the alley while the rest of the townfolk bumped my shoulders in the crowded street.
It felt like if I stepped into the dark, I was going get mugged and no one would care.
Ah the times, they be changing.
“Well, alright,” He shrugged, whistling two sharp notes over his shoulder. “We’re going.”
“Really?” I tried not to gape. “This is great! When can I expect you to be ready?”
“Now.”
Further down the dark alley, small figures crawled out from behind the discarded wooden crates and from under ragged tarps.
“Now as in—“I staggered back at the gaggle of children lining up behind the man who, looking a bit closer at him, was just an exhausted looking teenager. “Alright, we’re going right now! Uhhhh, do you need time to pack your things?”
“Stop stalling.” He shoved me aside, and his little ducklings trampled over my shoes. They were headed right for the exit, none of them looking back.
That was Avent, who took the job immediately without asking my name.
It’s Sorchrys by the way, and this will be my…tourism journal? Travel guide? I meant for this to be notes for Avent to familiarize with his new surroundings but I realized that after being asleep for so long, I was a stranger in own home.
So, Chrys of tomorrow, I hope that you’re still as unprepared as you were when you met Avy. That queasy feeling is just excitement for a new tomorrow.
Sun-Kissed Ruins
That’s a far cry from “The Mouth of Hell” isn’t it?
“I didn’t expect this place to be so green.” Avy murmured to himself, stepping closer to the green basin.
It was a deep crater left by a meteor that had struck the land millions of years ago. You can’t blame a rock for unleashing the greatest evil on the land, giving it a home that was hard to invade and worse for invaders when they succeeded.
The crater itself was huge. Neither Avent or I could see the other side. Before I fell asleep, Avent wouldn’t have been able to stand here.
“There are stories about the ruins. That they used to stand on bloody flesh instead of land.” Avy peered over the edge, down the grassy slope to the lake below.
“It was called the Mouth for a reason. That being said, mouths shouldn’t have eyes or smaller mouths inside,” I checked for the children following behind. “Watch your step, it looks grassy but it’s like walking on a cheese grater! There might be some teeth left over.”
Some of the children were barely taller than my knees though they could beat many of the clean faced soldiers patrolling their city in grit and edge. Dressed in patched up work clothes, they gathered around the hidden potholes instead of frolicking in the fields.
Methodically, they dug around and took shiny pebbles, bits of metal, and stray teeth, stowing them away into their pockets to sell later.
“When the first calamity was sealed away, the flesh died,” I continued, careful to slide down the slope to where the remains of the bridge to the fortress had fallen. “Must have smelled awful back then. But that’s the way death is. Starts out horrible, sad, and ugly, until nature turns it into art.”
The Sun-Kissed Ruins were a testament to that. Made of the huge crashed meteor, the fortress had been a collection of huge spires surrounding the great hall that held the entrance leading into the “throat” of the crater. That was where the palace rested and where it still did.
Except, the eyes and pulsating flesh were gone, long eaten by ivy and moss. They in turn were eaten by trees weaving their roots into the stone, the grassy fields that grew on top of the slanted roofs, and the flowers that sprouted where eyes used to see.
Where the greenery couldn’t reach, the rain did. The crater acted like a pool, gathering the rain at the bottom until it submerged half of the fortress.
Mirroring my movements, Avy picked up the smallest child and carried them down on his back. The bigger kids did the same and my face heated up.
I just went down without asking if they needed help. Ugh, that was rude and I was too embarrassed to ask if they needed my help.
Not that they seemed to need it. Many of them reached the water’s edge before I did.
“It’s getting late so we’ll go see the fields tomorrow morning,” I skidded to a stop at the pebbly beach, avoiding the shade. Spring was giving way to summer, great for me but not so comfortable for warm-blooded children who hadn’t had a sip the entire journey.
“Though, it’s not too late for a swim.” I offered, watching the children gather near the clear water. Little fish darted away from the edge, ducking under the lilypads floating nearby.
Avy narrowed his eyes at me, sweat beading under his soft seafoam green bangs; a pretty colour I’ve never seen on a human before. In fact, all of the children had varying shades of blue for hair. Not a single blond or brunet was among them.
“How do we know there isn’t anything in the water?” He asked.
I frowned, and furrowed my brow, looking as far down under the water as I could. Failing to see farther than eight floors, I snapped my fingers and sparks flew from my nails. A soft blue light created a film between the circle formed by my thumb and pointer finger. Peering through, I saw a faint red glow.
“Don’t dive.” I said, putting an angry twitch on the corner of Avy’s eye.
He didn’t have time to push me into the water. A dark shadow approaching the shore made one of the kids gasp. Hearing them, the shape sped to the algae-eaten slope.
Bursting from the water was a monster of man, three times my size and Avy’s combined.
It must have been hot for poor Rodain. His long hair and beard were in messy braids, unshorn in the summer heat because Celestra had forbidden him from giving himself an ugly haircut. Evidently, she wasn’t back from her jaunt to the city’s market yet.
Thank the Lord he had kept his pants on.
“Don’t mind him, he’s just curious,” I told Avy when he started reaching for a shank he probably had in one of his patched pockets. “He just hasn’t seen a child. Ever.”
Rodain was waist deep in a spot where the water would be well over any of the kids’ heads. They weren’t scared of him yet; still awestruck by how a person could be thicker than a tree.
Tentatively, he waved his arm, making a small splash at one of the younger children. The water slapped the kids’ knees, wetting their shorts. The cool water made them giggle and they splashed back, giving the giant a good laugh. It was a good sound; easy-going and safe but deep like rumbling earth, reassuring in a way that maybe fathers would be?
I don’t know but the children took to it. By the bunch, they waded into the water and began splashing around like real as Avy clasped his hands in front of himself, all awkward-like.
Overhead, the Master flew by, blocking out the sun for a few seconds like a cloud would.
“I need to step inside for a minute, the…boss might need a towel,” I excused myself and Avy wasn’t happy about letting me out of his sight but he wasn’t going to leave the kids alone with Rodain. I left when the giant had fallen flat into the water to toss up a wave that knocked Avy into the fray.
Still hearing their laughter on my way up the crumbled bridge, I climbed the makeshift rope ladder we had to toss down from the roof. It was actually a shorter trip than when the bridge had been fully functional, dramatic architecture and all that.
In its heyday, the grand hall alone was the size of a King’s castle, leading to the doors behind the throne that would lead down to the real palace.
If anyone asks, I think it’s prettier now. Most of the roof was gone, and the swaying branches of a willow, tickled by sunlight was a cheerier sight than dangling trophies dripping on to the cold stone.
Under the evening’s pink and purple clouds, on an ancient throne, slept my Master. From the day the sun first drew breath, to the night when the stars would come back, he would—should sit proudly on the bed of thorns that was this thriving land.
He didn’t look so big, wrapped in a cape that knight had wrapped around him when she carried him out of his burning prison.
Hearing my shoe scrape on a patch of untouched stone, his top most red eyes opened and his nose twitched. The cape slipped to his shoulders and the rest of his eyes opened.
“Chrys.” He languidly motioned me to come to his side.
The war was over now; had been over long enough for the willow in the middle of the hall to grow over a thousand rings. I didn’t bow my head or knees, and words flowed as easily as the sun did over his diamond scales, disappearing into a human guise.
“We have some workers willing to live and cut into the land,” I said, approaching the great beast. “They’re so young, they don’t know about a night with stars or moons.”
“I should think so,” He rolled four of his eyes, running his hand through his short white hair. “No one remembers my name, let alone my might,” He pouted, not snarled. I had always thought that if he was mortal, he’d still be larger than life. It didn’t strike me that he had only recently grown out of adolescence. “Lucky them, I’ve decided to grant their kind a boon for a single sharp mind. Perhaps the others will prove surprising as that knight.”
So that was the reason of the day. Wonder what it’s going to be tomorrow.
“Do you want to know something interesting?” I asked.
Though he pretended to be uninterested, his long white tail hadn’t disappeared yet. It eagerly slapped the floor.
“Do you know why they call this place the Sun-Kissed Ruins?”
“The sun rises here,” He twisted his lips, disappointed. “Is that it?”
“Look up.”
He stared at the darkening sky, chasing the last of the sun behind the fortress.
“Wh-What?” Sitting fully to attention, my Master (or Lord? My boss? Boss! I like that), gaped at the alien sky. “Why is it doing that?”
Not a single one of us had noticed that the sun was rising and setting on the same horizon. To be fair, we were preoccupied but it was a glaring mystery.
“Avy looked at me like I was crazy when I asked about that,” I told him, a bit impatient to find out why myself. “And he said ‘you leave the same way you come into a room don’t you?’”
“That’s…that’s not wrong.” My boss admitted, tail still slapping the floor.
Nothing wrong, though definitely something to look into.
“One step at a time. Till then,” I watched the sky with him. “The sun hasn’t stopped being pretty.”
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Beguiled
Summary: When Belle decides to woo Rumplestiltskin, Jefferson gives her pointers on how to be more alluring with interesting results.
Rating: T | Word Count: 3863
A/N: Written for @a-monthly-rumbelling: “You have a lot of nerve saying ‘hello’ like nothing happened.” An early birthday present for the wonderful @still-searching47, who was excited about Dark Castle fluff with Jefferson in the mix. Happy Birthday, love!
{ON AO3}
“Try pushing your shoulders back more,” Jefferson suggested, tenting his fingers. “And lift your chin.”
Belle rolled her shoulders twice and stuck her chest out, pressing her book against her abdomen. “Like this?” she asked, sucking in a deep breath.
“Not quite.” He wasn’t even looking at her as he rose from the plush fireside chair to study the display cases lining the walls of the great hall. He sipped his tea with an ungracious slurp. “But you’re, ah, getting better.”
Belle snorted. “If that’s you feigning nonchalance, you’re a worse actor than I am, Jeff.”
“Fine,” he snapped, spinning on his heel. “I was trying to be kind, but if you’re going to take that attitude, I’ll give it to you straight: for the love of the gods, Belle, didn’t your nurse teach you anything about feminine wiles?”
“She taught me how to read and speak twelve languages,” she said tartly. “I was rather busy.” Her cheeks warmed with the implication that she was lacking.
Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Nobody likes a know-it-all, love.”
“Yes, well nobody likes a giant arse wearing a top hat either, but here you are!” Belle flung her long, chestnut curls over her shoulder, retreating to her chaise by the fire.
She slumped over her book in defeat, more annoyed at herself for her failure than she was with Jefferson. He was only trying to help, but she’d been peevish with him the moment he knocked on the door. She’d told him what happened with Rumple, and now he was brimming with pointers on how she could be more alluring.
Posing felt ridiculous and unnatural, like she was a set of wares on display, instead of a person. She didn’t know how to behave like the silly, simpering maidens in the village where she had grown up, pursing their lips and pushing their breasts together to entice and entertain. Content with her books, learning how to apply rouge and tighten her corsets until she couldn’t breathe were foolish lessons she had been happy to live without.
Attracting another person had never interested her—until she’d met Rumplestiltskin.
Oh, she knew she was pretty; she’d been told often enough. But beauty wasn’t as important to her as brains or bravery. Besides, all the beauty in the world couldn’t make up for her clumsiness; Belle had been awkward from the womb. For as long as she could remember, she’d been prone to dropping things, tripping over her own feet, and running into walls.
Since coming to the Dark Castle as Rumplestiltskin’s maid, her gracefulness hadn’t improved. She’d lost count of the times she’d let the kettle boil dry, over-steeped the tea, or burned the cakes. Last week, she’d dropped a candle on the floor while reading and set fire to the carpet that lined the great hall. The magical tome she’d filched from Rumple’s laboratory had narrowly escaped the flames. The priceless heirloom rug from Agrabah, on the other hand, hadn’t fared so well. Belle cast a guilty look toward the scorch marks at her feet.
For all his seductive words and smooth ways, her former fiancé Gaston hadn’t fooled her. He wanted her purely for her title and fortune—nobody liked a clumsy girl, he had said. When she spilled champagne on herself at their engagement party, he suggested that instead of reading books she balance them on her head. “A man needs a graceful, elegant wife, Belle. We wouldn’t want you to trip on your way down the aisle and embarrass yourself.”
When compared to a lifetime shackled to Gaston, the decision to be Rumplestiltskin’s price for saving her village was an easy one. The Dark One—the most fearsome being in the realm—had never teased her about her awkwardness. Not once had he scolded her for dropping a plate or breaking an expensive artifact. He even insisted on taking his tea out of the teacup she chipped on her first evening of work. Rumple was kind, thoughtful, sensitive. Or he had been, until she had spoiled everything.
“Come now, Belle,” Jefferson coaxed, rising from the settee. “I’m sorry. Let’s try again. And tug your bodice down…maybe half an inch?”
“No.” She tried to focus on her book one more, but tears burned her eyes and the words were a blurry mess. A fat tear dropped onto the page and she rubbed the stain with her finger. “He won’t be impressed that I’m prancing around with my breasts on display.”
“Balderdash. You haven’t seen the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. It’s as though you’ve hung the moon in the sky.”
“Then where is he?” She dabbed at her wet eyes with the starched corner of her apron. “Two days ago he disappeared without a word. No goodbye note, no mention of when he’s coming home. Nothing but a crimson poof of smoke!”
Jefferson frowned. “He’ll be back…eventually.”
xoxo
It was her own fault.
She’d driven him away by kissing him in front of the villagers. She had embarrassed him in public, and now he would never forgive her.
All because the townspeople refused to sell their goods to the Dark One’s harlot. Bread? No. Fruit? Go to the next shop, Miss. Spices? We’re all sold out!
Even the straw Rumple had requested was denied. They took one look at her, and their faces had gone white with fear. They sprinkled holy water, scattered herbs, and shuttered their shops. Every door was barred; every tent flap closed. One man with venomous eyes had even spit at her feet when she’d taken a wrong turn on the long walk back to the castle
Two Days Earlier
“How is it you’ve returned without any of the supplies?” Rumplestiltskin didn’t look up from his spinning wheel when she entered the great hall. “I let you out of the monster’s lair to travel to town for some fresh air, to spend time in the company of normal people…is this is how you repay my lenience, Maid?” he asked in a teasing tone.
Belle set down the heavy basket of gold he’d given her to buy goods and dropped her cloak on the back of a chair with a sigh. “I tried to buy everything on the list. They wouldn’t help me.”
“What do you mean?” He stopped spinning, his amber eyes flaring to a dangerous bright yellow.
She twisted her fingers, hesitating. He’d been in a good mood a moment ago and the last thing she wanted was to anger him. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“Out with it!” he ordered, pointing a sharp nail in her direction.
“They think I’m your mistress,” she confessed, her cheeks flaming.
“Why…how dare they!” Rumple leapt to his feet, overturning his stool. His teeth were bared in a feral snarl. “I’ll turn them all into snails. Every. Last. One.”
Belle watched wide-eyed as he waved his hand; his dragon hide cloak materialized between his thumb and forefinger as he stomped toward the door.
“Well?” he barked, swinging the spiked garment over his shoulder. “Come along then. Time to teach some villagers a lesson in manners.”
“No! I can’t let you do this. Rumple, those people…they were afraid of me. Storming down there won’t solve anything.” Belle laid her hand on his forearm in an effort to calm him.
“I’ll give them something to fear all right,” he said, rubbing his fingers together as he often did when he was prepared to cast a spell. “Let’s go!”
She donned her cloak and hurried after him, hoping she could stop him before he transformed the entire population into slugs.
xoxo
The Present
“Come on, Belle. It’s not like you to give up. Let’s do this without the book, maybe. And stand…here.” Jefferson pointed to a spot in front of the hearth and flexed his fingers, his knuckles cracking.
Belle groaned in complaint but acquiesced, taking her place by the fire. Jefferson stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, pressing them down and back. “Relax,” he whispered, an edge of mocking in his tone. “Pretend I’m Rumple.”
She screwed her eyes shut, trying to imagine the warm body at her back being several inches shorter, wiry, and clad in leather, that the fingers kneading her neck muscles were long, clawed, and sparkling with gorgeous golden flesh. It was a challenge, to say the least. Jefferson wasn’t Rumplestiltskin; he was nice enough and they were friends, but having his hands on her felt all wrong. He didn’t cause her palms to sweat or set her blood on fire.
A hot tear leaked from her closed eyes, escaping down her cheek. She wanted Rumple, and even standing here with Jefferson touching her felt like a betrayal.
xoxo
Rumplestiltskin staggered, clawing against the stone wall for purchase, his breath coming in gasps. Seeing Belle in his oldest friend’s embrace made him want to raze a village, cast a curse, smash a castle to smithereens—anything to erase the image of his friend and the woman he loved entwined like lovers.
His eyes narrowed. Perhaps choking the life out of a certain milliner would suffice.
Despair settled in his gut as he watched Belle lean back against Jefferson, the traitor’s hands drifting down to frame her hips. Bastard. He would cut off his hands and display them, dripping with blood, on a pedestal in the great hall. He would shred every one of his infernal hats and make him watch…He would rip out his heart and crush it to dust with the heel of his boot. He would…
“Relax, Belle,” Jefferson muttered, squeezing her shoulders, and Rumplestiltskin nearly burst into the room like a wounded animal, howling at him to unhand his maid.
But that wasn’t an option.
He had to act natural, to pretend their trip to the village hadn’t meant anything. None of it mattered. Not the sweet glory of Belle’s lips against his, nor the silken feel of her hair against his cheek, nor the comfort of her arms clinging to his worthless neck.
Belle was within her rights to move on, even with his former friend. It wasn’t as though many people came to the castle to visit the likes of him; naturally, she was lonely and would seek companionship. That, and he had hidden away from her in his laboratory for two days, terrified to face her after acting like a complete fool.
He’d been through worse, though—recovered from Milah, triumphed over Cora, even survived allowing his only son to slip through a portal. Surely he could bear losing a slip of a girl with bright blue eyes and a dazzling smile. But no one had ever made his heart trip and tumble the way Belle did. His darling, absentminded bookworm who was forever burning dinner and forgetting the tea, who dusted with a cloth in one hand and a book with the other. Belle was the only person who spoke to him like he was a person, like he mattered.
xoxo
It was his own fault.
He had escorted Belle to the village, kissed her, and then fled like a child. He had embarrassed her in public, and now she would never forgive him.
Two Days Earlier
Rumplestiltskin charged out the door and down the mountain in the direction of the village. Belle skipped and sashayed a few steps behind him, struggling to keep up. She tripped over a rock, and he caught her by the wrist before she pitched forward into the dirt.
“Thank you.” Belle slid her arm through his, cupping his elbow with the opposite hand.
She beamed at him, and he grunted in reply, his cheeks growing warm under her soft gaze. All he’d done was keep her from falling on her face.
They wound their way along the path to the village at the foot of the Black Mountains against the breeze, the tangy spring air blowing in their faces, arms looped together.
Once they reached the village, he escorted Belle to each shop and stand that had banned her, leveling threatening stares at the shopkeepers. The vendors’ hands shook as they served her, their brows damp with sweat, but not one of them rejected his money or refused to sell Belle anything she wanted. They eyed him warily, stammering their thanks each time she handed them a gleaming spool of pure gold.
When the gold was almost gone and the basket filled with food and supplies, Belle grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bustling bakery. “Mmmm, do you smell that, Rumple? We should buy you some fresh rolls that aren’t blackened to a crisp. I’ll get better with the oven someday, I promise.”
“It’s no matter,” he assured her. She’d burned the bread every time she made it in the six months since she had come to live with him and it was of no consequence. He craved her company, not her service. “I don’t mind crunchy bread.”
“Crunchy. Ha! You’re kinder to me than I deserve,” she said, squeezing his hand.
He arched an eyebrow, thinking of the dungeon he’d cast her into when she’d first come to work for him. “You have a strange definition of kindness, Belle.”
“You have a strange definition of servitude,” she replied.
The aroma of the fresh loaves was tantalizing, though, and he and Belle purchased several kinds of bread. He smiled as she tried to balance them on top of the basket.
They turned to leave the shop just as a throng of children came running into the bakery, bouncing toward the display case like a litter of spring bunnies. A little towheaded girl with pigtails bumped into Belle, and she tumbled sideways, upsetting the contents of her basket. Bread, spices, books, and bolts of fabric went flying, as did Belle.
He caught her in his arms and their gazes locked. Smudges of flour decorated her cheeks, and he wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. Belle’s eyes darkened, pupils blown wide, and Rumplestiltskin shivered. No woman had ever looked at him that way. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck and she pressed her lips to his with a tiny moan that was his undoing. He crushed her against his chest with a groan and plundered her mouth, his tongue demanding her sweetness.
Through the roar of blood in his ears, he heard a throat clear and he released her mouth, his breath thready.
His lips tingled slightly from where they had been pressed against hers, and his tongue swiped at the lingering taste of her on his bottom lip. She was there, merely inches from his face, ready to be kissed again, and Rumplestiltskin felt the darkness recede in the presence of her light, the love he felt for her piercing through the blackness of his heart.
“Ahem.” There was a cough, and Rumplestiltskin turned toward the bakery case. Fifteen pairs of curious eyes were fixed on them, including the baker, and he looked back, his brain a hazy mess of confusion and desire.
“Mama,” a little girl whispered, tugging on her mother’s skirts. “Why is that monster kissing that lady?”
Belle giggled at the child, but he recoiled at her words, slumping his shoulders and backing away like the coward he was. He had lost control in front of a hoard of villagers, showing himself to be every inch the animal they’d claimed him to be. Horrified, he snapped his fingers and transported himself to his tower, leaving Belle alone in the crowded bakery.
xoxo
Present Day
Rumplestiltskin sneered as Jefferson leaned down to whisper into Belle’s ear. He had no excuse for his bad behavior, but he was still the Dark One, and he wouldn’t play the fool in his own castle. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned in the doorway. The Hatter would pay for this outrage.
“Hello,” he said quietly.
“Rumplestiltskin!” Belle stepped away from Jefferson, her eyes alight with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “You’re home!”
“Good evening, Belle. Hatter.” He grunted at Jefferson’s broad back and pushed off the wall with a clenched fist. How dare he be so cavalier? “Belle didn’t tell me you were here for a visit.”
“I didn’t know you were home, or I would have,” Belle said evenly. “I…”
Jefferson whirled around to face him, his jaw hard and eyes stormy. “You have a lot of nerve saying ‘hello’ like nothing happened.”
“Jeff,” Belle swung pleading eyes in the Hatter’s direction. “Don’t—”
Rumplestiltskin held up a hand. “Let the ingrate speak, Belle. Do you have something to say to me, Hatter?”
Jefferson’s eyes flashed like lightning bolts. “How can you treat Belle so badly? She deserves better.”
“You are treading where few who have dared to tread survive.” Seething, Rumplestiltskin stalked toward Jefferson, conjuring a fireball in the center of his palm.
“Rumple, stop!” Belle begged. “What are you doing? Jefferson is our friend.”
“Friendship is a farce,” he said through clenched teeth, holding the fireball aloft.
The Hatter shrugged. “Threatening me with parlour tricks won’t change the facts. You don’t love Belle.”
He lowered his arm and blinked at Jefferson in confusion. Is that what Belle thought? “Who says I don’t love her?”
Jefferson eyed him askance. “When a man kisses a woman and disappears for two days, that’s the impression he leaves.”
So Jefferson knew all about his shameful showing in the village. Once a monster, always a monster, it seemed. And once again he was paying the price. Tears blurred his vision and he hurled the fireball toward the hearth, triggering an explosion of flames and thick black soot.
“Impressive.” Jefferson smirked, waving his hand in front of his face as the smoke cleared. “Rumple, there’s no need for all this drama. Just be good to her.”
“Or you will?” he countered nastily.
“You have the wrong idea, my friend.”
“Is that why you were pressed up against my maid in my castle in front of my fireplace?”
“I was trying to help.”
“Your help is not welcome.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “I could tell by the way you were handling—”
“Oh, both of you shut up!” Belle screamed.
Rumplestiltskin whipped around to see Belle standing on top of the table in the great hall, her hands on her hips, her face flushed, and her breasts heaving. She was annoyed. She was angry. She was magnificent.
“Belle…” He gulped. While he was arguing with Jefferson he had completely forgotten her presence, and from the way her eyes were snapping, she was not happy about it.
“If I wanted to be squabbled over as though I were not in the room like some ridiculous prize to be won, I would have remained in Avonlea and wed Gaston,” she said crisply, climbing down from the table. “Enough of this madness. Jefferson, would you please go? I need to talk to Rumplestiltskin. Alone.”
Jefferson tipped his hat and swept Belle a deep bow before slipping out the door.
Rumplestiltskin hung his head in shame, too miserable to even acknowledge Jefferson’s departure. He would apologize to Belle, and then he would leave so that she could pack her bags and plan her future.
“I’m sorry, Belle,” he said after the door closed behind the Hatter. “You’re free to go. To be with Jefferson or anything you want. I won’t…hold you here any longer.” He stole one last longing glance at her, memorizing her beloved features before drifting towards the door.
Her sweet face would be branded on his heart for as long as he lived.
xoxo
“Rumple, wait!”
He turned around slowly, and Belle watched myriad emotions rippled across his face. He did care for her. But he was afraid of his own shortcomings, just as she feared hers. She hurried across the room, then stopped when she was still a hands breadth away. She longed to be in his arms, but first she had to know.
“You don’t understand. Jefferson was trying to help me…um, be more, um, noticeable. That’s what we were doing when you saw us. Practicing.” Belle felt her cheeks heat with the admission.
“What?” He shook his head. “Belle, sweetheart, you don’t have to do anything to win me over. You’ve owned my soul since the moment I saw you in your father’s war room.”
She studied him, her throat thickening with tears at the endearment. He looked tired and scared, like a little boy who had gotten lost on a long journey. “Never mind that now. It was a foolish idea. Is what Jefferson said true? Do you love me?”
His eyes were wary and his throat bobbed. “I do.”
“Oh, Rumple!”
She launched herself at him, hurtling into his arms as she had at the bakery two days ago. Only this time, she fell on purpose. She peppered his cheeks, chin, and forehead with kisses, touching him everywhere she could reach. “I’m so sorry. I was never angry with you about the kiss; I thought you were angry with me for being so clumsy.”
“No, Belle,” he said, “I could never been angry with you. I love that you read and walk into walls. I love that you can’t make a decent pot of tea. I love that…” He shrugged. “I love you. And I’m sorry for running away. I thought that you…I’m a monster Belle. I always have been, I always will be.”
“You’re not a monster,” she chided. “Those people that looked at you like we were doing something wrong by kissing, by being happy, they are the monsters.”
He didn’t look convinced, but it didn’t matter. She had a lifetime to show him that she was right.
His stomach growled and she offered him a smile as she toyed with the soft curly hair at his neck. “You haven’t eaten anything in two days, have you? Would you like tea? Some of the bread we bought at that bakery? It’s probably stale now but maybe you could freshen it with a little magic. What would please you?”
“What would please me is to hear you say nothing more to Jefferson for the rest of the year,” he complained, tightening his grip on her waist.
She kissed his ear. “I’ve already told you, there’s no reason to be jealous. Jefferson is not lover material; he’s more like the brother I’ve never had.”
“Aye, a halfwit brother, dropped on his head when he was a babe.”
Belle laughed at his grumblings. “In any case, I don’t think he’s going to be a problem—at least for today,” she said.
“Good.” He sighed against her neck, then rubbed his nose into her curls.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” she teased, lacing her fingers behind his neck. “Will you promise me something before I do?”
He tilted his head, in that impish adorable way she adored. “I’m not very good at keeping promises. What do you want?”
“Promise me that when I kiss you, you won’t run away.”
“That I can do,” he said, lowering his head. “That I can do.”
###
#rumbelle#rumbelle fic#rumplestiltskin x belle#jefferson#a monthly rumbelling#dark castle rumbelle#beguiled#mqc writes
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The Dig Initiative: Chapter 29
The Recruit
What a fucking trip.
Underground group of illegal kids and illegal adults, just doing what they did because they could? Fuck it. And that big bastard, the tired looking guy with the fire in his eyes, he just sprung up on them with a doctor from Altamira? With another patient? And in an underground subway with, get this, Santa Clause. Alright, he just went by Clause, but he had the beard. There was a reason for the name. Come on. The only thing the recruit really cared about was himself. He cared about why in the hell he was helping so much.
It was a compulsion. That was it. Had to be helping. Had to aid, had to connect with these people after Olsen was cut off. Maybe it was just an augmenter thing, he didn’t know. Didn’t care, either. Just going to keep on going with this nest like it was a regular thing. Fucking subway station. Unreal.
He had been there for the soup kitchen incident. Hell, he was the reconnaissance that led to even having a plan for the soup kitchen incident. The raid. People from Locke Security took down the people there with a look. A whole team had that building flat in seconds. They were good. So good. So good, jus the two of them, together, they could impulsively turn a man’s head around and leave him dead on a table because she was pissed that her ex-husband didn’t know she was still alive. You know, the usual.
But, you know what? These people could do the same. Soup kitchen had a small group of potentials, maybe ten who had transformed. This? This was sixty plus! This would take more than a patrol team to take down. It was, honest to god, impressive. He had to stay, just to see what was going to happen next.
They had gathered around a woman going through the fever like she was their lost little lamb. So what, she was transforming. He’d done it. Most of these people had done it. Why was it so weird for this one? Because she was pregnant? So what? Who cares, he’d say. Everything else was already falling apart, why not put a fetus through it? Nothing was going to surprise him, really. He knew that if some slimy tentacle monster burrowed up from beneath them and sang in Yiddish, well, that was another Wednesday by now. Big deal, he’d say. Yiddish Slug could go on and slaughter them all, because why not.
Course, he couldn’t deny, there was something else about the pregnant girl. A familiar pull. A calling. That old song that Olsen gave him when he went through it.
The best thing to do then was sit around and wait. Everybody was nodding off like they were on fumes. It’d been an exciting day. People were dead. That Teddy guy was possibly bleeding out. It was a lot to take in and sleep was easy and free. So while everyone hunkered down, the recruit decided to make up some time and watch the door. Help out. He just had to.
It was the blonde chick who finally came over to talk. Not thin, not fat, little short, with a big pile of curls that fell over to the left whenever she swept her hands through them. She was cute with her cat eyes and her pink lips. She was the band guy’s talent. They were a pair. Except, you know, the pregnant chick came in and messed that whole arrangement. The blonde was talking through this and the recruit hadn’t heard a thing she said while he was checking her out.
“Sorry?” he asked.
“I mean, it’d have to be quick in the morning, but Fletcher said we could take their keys and head out. A van is way more inconspicuous than that stupid semi-truck.”
“Van? Semi? Head out where?”
“To the store. Get food. Supplies. What are you, dense or something?”
“What? No. No!”
The recruit picked at his shirt, puffed up a little to make himself seem taller. They were both shrimps and it was embarrassing that this woman was almost as tall as he was. Perfect height, though, if he were to lean in and kiss her suddenly. No, that was stupid.
“Okay, so.” The blonde wagged her head a bit, indicating with perked shoulders and open palms that she wanted an answer. “Are you in? Out? Or what?”
Go up into town, get some food, feed these people without getting caught by anybody from Locke Security. Harvey had asked earlier, and the recruit said yes because he needed something to do. It would be a great way to help, but a risk to their safety and the whole hidden operation. He didn’t have a partner. He didn’t feel like severing the connection with Olsen, trying to rewire himself with some talent in the nest. He was ignoring that siren call from the pregnant one, he really was. It was itching at his teeth, it was poking at his spine. It was a hassle. The math was all right there, pointing at how dumb it would be to go with her.
“Yeah,” he answered and gave her a smile. “Of course. You say when.”
Her eyes lit up and it was what those poetry guys were all talking about, like the sun rise. Really pretty.
“Alright well, by my watch, it’s almost 3.”
“You have a watch?”
“Yeah.” She flashed her wrist, like it was the most obvious thing. The Samsung bar was there, but, next to it was a second band. A real watch. It had a little key screw and everything. Analog. I mean, that’s the way to go, he thought. “Stores stay open until 6, and these guys say we can come out near the Library. Shouldn’t be hard to get to the grocery store. I think we’re ten blocks from one. So that’s nothing, if we can borrow the van. I don’t know, but just be ready soon, okay?” Blonde brushed her fingers through her hair, snagging curls and tossing them over to the left. He imagined it, sure, but he thought she smelled like flowery shampoo or a light deodorant. “And, look, I know you have a history and all that and we technically very much kidnapped you, but I’m tired and I want to be able to trust a little, so can we just go and not make this a thing?”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Uh, no. That’s not an answer.”
“Neither is yours. Your name? Non de plume. Prénom of choice. Whatever.”
“Annalise,” she answered and scrunched her nose, considerably the most adorable thing ever. She was judging him. “And I recall you didn’t want to give yours.”
“Yeah, well, you were beating me up and there was that dead guy there, so.”
“Dead guy you killed.”
“I did no such thing,” he said indignantly. He touched his chest over his heart like his whole family’s honor had been sullied. “I was just as much a witness as you were. So, don’t point fingers.”
Annalise shoved a skinny pointer up near his eye. He could see the fine lines around her knuckles and the dirt under her nail. It was close. She muttered through her teeth, “I’ll point what I like, got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.”
“Good,” he repeated.
“…Good.”
They could go on like this for hours. He’d enjoy it if they did, but he let Annalise have the last word before she went back to the little dirty underground shack to get some keys to the van. What van? They had a van parked above them? Wild. And a semi too? What was that even about? Her augmenter stood next to the wall with his arms crossed, staring hard across the way. Now that guy, maybe he was that sort’ve soft California grunge type with longish hair and a beard and ripped sleeves, but he could probably throw a better punch than some. Nice arms. Really cut kind of look. He had black bands around his wrists, that punk band thing going. Musician. Meant diva. Meant if he was stepping on toes with Annalise, it would be fun to see where the fight would take them. He wouldn’t say no to a ménage a trois. The recruit winked at him and the other guy scoffed, rolled his eyes, almost went into the shack just to get away, but didn’t. Not a firm no. Not a bad sign.
Annalise slithered past the other augmenter with keys in hand. She had a long stride, a weight about her that was all control. The other guy noticed it too. He watched her like she was his last meal. She was talking again, talking talking talking and the two guys were so busy fawning that the recruit didn’t get anything.
“Sorry, say that again,” he said and winced when she rolled her eyes.
“You deaf?” Annalise was so close to playfully hitting him on the head. Maybe not playfully. Didn’t matter. “We need to make a list. Okay? Bulk items. Dry goods. Baby formula.”
“Baby formula,” he said, eyebrows wrinkled. “Why do we need baby formula?”
“For. The. Babies.” She punctuated each word by pinching the air, like she was setting them up on a teleprompter for him.
“Yeah, right. Of course. Babies.” The recruit remembered Thomas talking about the twins. He just wanted to rile her up. “Like I totally saw babies when we were running out of that warehouse.”
“I don’t care if you did or didn’t, we’re getting formula. Capiche?”
“Yeah.” He pressed his shoulder into the wall, leaning on one leg. It made him a freckle shorter than her. “Duh.”
They had to go find anything they could use to carry the goods. Annalise asked around for cash, hopeful that they could buy some of it and steal the rest. But these people had nothing but hands and feet and hungry stomachs. Even the people who lived in the subway didn’t have cash, they were homeless. They panhandled and were probably just not giving up anything they had. Fair enough. The recruit looked down at his Corin Complete watch. Thing was dead, but if he could find somewhere to charge it, probably a Starbucks or something, he could log into his bank and transfer out funds. When they were back in range, he’d slide the app up his forearm and use the digital card to pay. Maybe nobody was looking for him yet. Olsen certainly didn’t bother sending a message.
“I got it,” he said to Annalise’s back. She turned, puzzled, and he said, “I’ll pay. I got it.”
Annalise smiled, impressed. Score one. “Alright, buckaroo, if you’re ready to go?”
“You wanna bring your boyfriend with you?”
“Boyfriend?” She looked back at the augmenter and scowled. There was a little bad blood there. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Great, even better. I like collecting sets, but this makes it more fun.”
They found a few duffel bags, hunting gear stuff. He put a strap across his chest and marched towards the dark tunnel, the one Jimmy-Jam pointed them down to get to the platform. He was feeling giddy and light. Whole thing was a mess. Locke Security, what Olsen did, the subway community. But he had a need to feel something close to normal because he was so close to just throwing his hands up in the air and asking for someone to feed him a bullet out in the woods. This was fun. This was pure bullshit and he loved it.
Annalise tagged along with a bag in each fist. When she caught up to him she asked, “What do you mean ‘collecting sets?’”
“I dunno.”
He knew.
The tunnel was dark, and he stumbled along the tracks with the tip of his shoe, trying not to trip. He kept thinking something about the third rail. Don’t touch the third rail. He couldn’t tell first from third, so whatever happened was going to happen. Let it. Course, if he went up in smoke and left Annalise high and dry, that would be kind of embarrassing.
“You wanna find out?”
“You’re either creepy or cheesy,” she said after she passed him, looking back through the dark. She swung the key around her finger and, could that be? She winked at him. “But, hey, I’m willing to play along. Just, you know, don’t try to screw me over because I will end you, tiny man.”
Tiny man. Christ.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said and thought about how she was talented. Maybe she read his mind.
….
Shit.
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#The Dig Initiative#writing#prose#novel#self-publishing#The Recruit likes to curse#but he also likes boys and girls#my little bi baby#Against the Gray
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