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cuubism · 1 year

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Joy

Dreamling | T rating | Retired Dream | on emotional repression

I was thinking about a post, which I cannot find alas, about retired Morpheus struggling to deal with the fact that his actions and emotions don't have universe-wide consequences anymore. Like, he's allowed to just feel things now? And as someone who's also been extremely checked out of their own emotions at various points I can tell you the transition is… not easy. Anyways.

Morpheus is out when Hob gets home, or so he assumes. When he steps into the hall, the flat has the utterly still quality of total vacancy, no noise or distant movement. For all that Morpheus is a relatively quiet person, generally speaking, Hob has still become attuned to what his presence feels like, or the lack thereof.

Or so he thought.

For when he reaches the kitchen, Morpheus is there, sitting at the kitchen table, completely still. Hob almost doesn't see him, that's how still he is. Back straight, hands folded on the table, looking down at them as if he's meditating, or working out some complicated problem in his head.

Hob quietly sets down his bag and sits across from him. “Hey... love? You okay?”

He almost whispers it so as not to break the silence. Normally Hob would leave him to his devices if he was in the middle of something, but despite the fact that Morpheus is not given to unnecessary movement, the complete stillness sends something uncomfortable creeping up Hob’s spine. Morpheus hadn't even seemed to hear him come in.

With glacial slowness, Morpheus nods.

“It’s just…” Hob continues, biting his lip. “You’re not moving. At all. I almost didn’t think you were breathing.”

“That is the idea,” Morpheus agrees, still looking at his hands.

"Not breathing?"

"Not moving."

"Can I ask why?"

"I am. Preoccupied. With." His fingers flex against each other on the table as if forcing stillness. "Movement within."

Hob doesn't know what that means. "Can you elaborate?"

"I must make it still," Morpheus says. "I have before. I will."

Which clears up nothing. And Hob is getting the increasing sense that something is wrong but he's floundering as to what.

"Will you come sit on the couch with me?" he finally asks. "You look like you're about to snap in half."

"If it will please you," Morpheus says. Like his own pleasure-or-not in this matter is something he'd prefer not to touch.

"It will," Hob says. Morpheus follows him to the couch, moving like– like he did before. That ethereal creature that considered every step like he was crossing a thinly frozen lake.

So that's what it is.

Morpheus sits down beside him, drawing his knees up to his chest in a movement that, Hob is almost relieved to observe, is very much not like before.

Hob drapes the blanket from the back of the couch over his shoulders. Morpheus flinches, but doesn't push it off. "What's going on, hon?"

"It is..." Morpheus admits, slowly, "loud."

Hob frowns. "In your head? I thought you said it's been quieter since–"

"No." Morpheus presses a hand to his sternum. "Here."

Hob touches his chest, carefully, hand resting beside Morpheus's. All he can hear, or rather feel, is Morpheus's heartbeat, still a new and learning thing. "Your heart?"

"Everything. It... resounds. And drives off reason."

"Okay." Hob rubs his hand up and down over his chest, as if that might soothe him. Hob is aware enough of the feeling of overwhelm, and of Morpheus's particular brand of it, now that he has so little to distract him. "Just give it time and it'll pass, love."

Morpheus shakes his head. "That is not–" his lips press into a distressed line. "Duration is. Not the issue. It is. What will be left. After. Detritus."

Hob's own heart clenches. "Your feelings aren't a storm, love."

"Are they not?"

"You aren't going to make storms in the Dreaming, now," Hob says, though he knows Morpheus knows this.

"I speak not of weather, Hob Gadling," Morpheus growls. "I can– raze minds, I can spin balanced consciousness into euphoria, I can twist it all on its head with no effort and I will–" his fingertips dig into his chest, and Hob thinks that if he were still capable of manifesting claws he'd be drawing blood even through his shirt– "I will make it stop. It will be quiet again, I swear it."

"Only thing you're spinning is yourself," Hob says, gently.

And the thing is, he knows Morpheus knows this. Knowledge isn't the issue. It's sort of like how he never quite believes that Hob will never want to die, no matter how many times Hob tells him. I know that, Hob Gadling, he will say, but Hob can never quite get him to feel it.

"I know that, Hob Gadling," he says, again, now. That same tone. How dare you not believe it. How dare.

"Give me your hand," Hob says.

"Hob–"

Hob takes his hand and pulls it to himself, pressing Morpheus's palm flat to his own chest. Morpheus makes as if to pull away, then surrenders.

"Look," Hob says. "It's not hurting me, is it?"

"No," Morpheus admits, reluctantly, still with that tension through his shoulders.

"What about the room? Is everything shaking into pieces? Is it all going haywire? People rioting in the streets?"

Morpheus shakes his head no.

"See?" Hob says, squeezing his hand. "It's alright."

"I want it quiet," Morpheus says. He no longer sounds frustrated. More defeated. "It should not be... here." He touches his breastbone. "Here." His throat. "Here." His head.

"Where's it supposed to be, then?"

"Gone."

Hob sighs. This will not be an easy fix, not at all. He leans in, awkward though the angle is, and kisses Morpheus's chest, his neck, his temple, then stays, leaning against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. I know it's not easy. I happen to like you not gone, though, for what it's worth."

"Me?"

"Uh-huh. You. That's you in there, you know, not some brain-eating amoeba."

He gets a tiny huff of an almost-laugh from Morpheus. "Is it?"

"Yup. The part you weren't allowed to see because everything else was so loud." He rubs Morpheus's chest again, where he keeps saying it's hurting.

Morpheus's mouth opens as if to protest, and Hob adds–

"I'm not going to criticize you for it, okay? I promise I'm not."

Hob gets it. Well. He can't get it, actually, he's never been in charge of the entire dreaming world, but he tries.

"I thought you were supposed to go out today?" he says. "Weren't you getting tea with Rose? What happened with that? You were looking forward to it, I thought."

"I was, yes." He says it as if this is bad somehow. "Looking forward to it, that is. Her company is... enjoyable.”

“Okay? That's good, right?"

But Morpheus shakes his head. "It is too much."

"Too much?" Hob asks. "Were you nervous about it?"

Again, Morpheus shakes his head. “Joyful.”

Hob's heart is actually going to break. He knows this is part of why Morpheus left in the first place. And yet it's still tormenting him, which feels criminally unfair. And the worst part is there's no one to really blame, he knows why Morpheus did it, he can't and won't fault him for it when he was put in such a position.

He asks quietly, “So that joy didn't feel good to you?”

Morpheus shakes his head, biting down hard on his lip, and then, to Hob's horror, bursts into tears.

For all that Morpheus is prone to drama and moping, Hob has never actually seen him cry. He hadn't cried when he’d told Hob of his imprisonment, offering only a hint of scorched anger to indicate how he felt about it, the words, I had not realized what it was to be isolated and embodied until then. It was agonizing, said with the even cadence of the moon in orbit instead of the rawness they deserved. Nor had he cried when he'd shown up on Hob's doorstep and, when greeted with a concerned Hey, Dream, are you okay? – because he certainly didn't look it, drenched to the bone and his cloak absent its swirling inner cosmos – answered merely, You should call me Morpheus, I am no longer Dream of the Endless. The closest Hob had ever seen was the glimmer in his eyes when he'd thought Hob no longer wished to live, all the way back in the 1600s, and even then, his tears had not fallen.

“Oh, darling.” Hob pulls him into his arms, rubbing his back. “It’s alright.”

“It does not feel,” Morpheus continues, voice remarkably steady given the tears streaming down his cheeks, “good. It feels loud. And I am not in control, I am subject to these whims and I am no subject, Hob.”

"Those feelings are part of you. Not subjecting.”

“I don’t want it,” Morpheus insists, with the bitter frustration of a former king, used to shaping the world around him as he wishes. “If they are free I do not know what might come out.”

What comes out are parts of you, Hob thinks, but doesn’t express it again. The raw parts that you think are so awful. “Well, if there’s any feeling to try it with, wouldn’t it be joy? Happiness?”

Morpheus huffs. "Do you think that sorrow and rage are the only feelings with the capacity to destroy? Joy can become hysteria, joy can ruin, I have seen it, I have done it, when I was much, much younger and did not understand my abilities. Strong feelings have power, the very Dreaming is crafted of them. It could not exist out of apathy.”

“Neither could you,” Hob points out, and Morpheus just huffs again, shaking his head.

“I thought that if I relinquished my responsibilities, I would no longer have to worry so about everything outside of myself,” Morpheus says. “And how it entangles with me. Only now. It is still there, but I can do nothing to stop it.”

“But listen, darling.” Hob squeezes his hand. “You’re allowed to be tangled up with everything, now. You’re supposed to be.” He twists their fingers together. “I want you tangled up.”

“I will— without access to my realm I will step wrong, and—”

“And you can fix it,” Hob says. “Promise. No rebuilding a whole universe required.”

Morpheus sniffles, and Hob wipes the tears from his cheeks. “You always kept yourself above it all, didn’t you?”

“It is my responsibility to keep the collective unconscious in balance,” Morpheus says. He hasn’t quite stopped talking about his responsibilities in the present tense — Hob thinks it will be a while before he fully internalizes the lack of that weight. “Not to sway it to my feelings. Historically, when I have involved myself, it has… not gone well.”

“It doesn’t always as a human, either,” Hob says, and Morpheus’s frown deepens. “I mean, we’re all just bumping up against each other, you know? But you’re allowed to have space there, even if it doesn’t always go right.”

“If you mean this to be very comforting, I will have to disappoint you,” says Morpheus, but there’s more humor in it now, and he’s stopped crying. He pushes his head into Hob’s shoulder, and Hob wraps his arms around him tighter, holds him close.

“I wish it could all be immediately easy for you,” Hob says. “I’d do anything to make it so.”

“I did not expect this to be easy,” Morpheus says, voice rumbling into Hob’s chest. “But the challenges have repeatedly come from unforeseen directions.”

Hob kisses the side of his head. “I’m glad you’ve stuck with me anyway.”

“You have been very patient with my… meandering attempts at basic humanity.”

“Always will. I love you.”

It’s another thing he’s struggled to get Morpheus to truly accept, that Hob’s care for him was never contingent on any of his abilities or powers. That Hob won’t be scared away no matter his mistakes, because Hob has faced a lot of terrifying things in his life and the worst is the prospect of losing Morpheus entirely.

This time, Morpheus doesn’t reject it. He just hums and lets Hob pet his hair, lets Hob keep him and quiet him towards ease, which Hob intends to do until Morpheus can find it himself, and then after, too.

And several weeks later, when Morpheus comes home from the park with a colored pencil drawing Jed made for him, smiling and holding it to his chest with real joy in his eyes, Hob shines with pride, and the part of his heart that might have broken just a bit listening to Morpheus cry that day heals over again.

#how many goddamn fics is it acceptable to post in one day #this is technically the third #truly i wish i could finish and post things on a regular schedule instead of not posting for 2 months then finishing 80 things in one day #but alas #anyway #this has been lingering for months near finished but unsatisfying. finally scrapped 1000 words of the ending and just redid it #WORKING THROUGH SOME STUFF HERE PERHAPS #dreamling #dreamling fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #retired dream #let dream be happy 2kforever

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ogsherlockholmes · 3 months

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The Hound of Watson's Grief

I made a post a few weeks ago about how all of the Holmes stories could be interpreted as Watson's imagination in order to compensate for his loneliness (sorry for putting that idea in your heads) and I wanted to expand on that by focusing on The Hound of the Baskervilles. So, prepare for some inarticulate rambling which I hope will make sense.

One of the things that has always struck me about this particular story is ultimately how different it is from the rest of the canon: not just Holmes' noticeable absence in the mid-section, but the emphasis on Watson's description and the supernatural features. Although these can still be seen in the other stories, The Hounds of the Baskervilles still seems to exist separately from them, and I have a an idea why this is.

The Hounds of the Baskervilles, as a story, was never meant to be. Holmes was dead- ACD was proud to announce that. He had rid himself of the so called 'great detective', and could focus on more historical serious novels. But, alas, he thought of an interesting story line, and could think of no other way of conceiving it without help from Holmes. So, Holmes was prematurely resurrected, without any form of indication that he was actually alive, or if this was D Watson writing up his notes, or if the audience should just suspend their disbelief and read the story as an undefined prequel.

Realistically, that is about all there is to say about the premise of The Hound of the Baskervilles: the story just is, and we have to accept that. But what of THotB is purely a work of fiction, including within the realms of the fictional world of Sherlock Holmes? In some ways, THotB could be read as Watson finding an outlet for his grief for Holmes.

Firstly, Holmes' absence: not just in the story, but in Watson's life and in the public's life. Holmes was dead, with no chance of return... supposedly. He had died offstage, with no witnesses, apart from the man who died with him, so no one could check with him if Holmes was actually dead. For Watson, the only proof he had of Holmes' death was a letter, with no body to bury; for a man who had spent so much time with someone so furtively based on facts, I can't imagine that that would have felt right to him. Holmes was dead, but where did he die? It's reasonable to suppose that Watson went through a stage of denial, believing that Holmes was still alive. Of course, he couldn't admit that to the public (like so many other things... the unreliable narrator that he is) so he would need another outlet. So, why not write a story involving Holmes? Maybe Watson began writing, including all the quintessential characteristics of Holmes (his quick deductions, sarcastic quips and his effortlessness in complimenting Watson), but then the realisation of his friend's death dawned on him. Watson looks back on his work, and remembers that he now must solve mysteries by himself. Holmes is busy elsewhere, and Watson is alone.

Watson begins a tirade of long, flowery descriptions (in the words of Holmes "cut out the poetry, Watson") which are usually skipped over in the shorter stories. We are fully immersed in the gloomy Dartmoor with its "tinge of melancholy", and the introduction of an escaped prisoner: Selden, the Notting Hill murderer. This feels like compensation for Watson forcing Holmes' logic in the earlier chapters, almost as though he's trying to build another story for himself. The addition of the Baskerville legend also seems more alligned with Watson's interests than Holmes: overall, THofB becomes more of Watson indulging himself in a fairy tale than reporting facts, as Holmes would prefer.

Still, Watson is just as dutiful as ever, writing letters to Holmes, but receiving little response. Again, this might be a parallel for Watson's life: he wishes to communicate with his late friend, but hears nothing back. Here, Watson might be doubting himself again: he's obsessing over Holmes' death, so much so that he can't be sure he's even dead. A glimmer of hope: maybe Holmes is alive, and he's out there, waiting to come back. Watson mentions "the figure of a man upon the tor", the "tall, thin man" which is undeniably Holmes: he allows himself this fantasy, to the point where he explicitly states this idea when he reveals that Holmes has been with him in Dartmoor all along, but hiding away from him. But, he can't be too certain, so Selden (who could be seen as a mirror to Holmes as he is confused with Holmes as being the figure on the Moor) is killed off as soon as Watson finds Holmes. Again, Selden is killed offstage and by falling off an edge, which sounds familiar...

Now, Watson has his Holmes back, in theory. He ends the story by describing Holmes being involved in other matters which he doesn't provide too much detail on, as per usual. The story was quickly and almost effortlessly resolved, with the antagonist, Stapleton, seemingly dead but the protagonist, Henry Baskerville, saved. I don't think it is too much of a stretch to say that Stapleton and Baskerville are Moriarty and Holmes substitutes, respectively (Stapleton's academic backgrounds and unusual characters; Baskerville's assertiveness, Watson's detailed descriptions of his movements and appearance, the implication that Selden's death was originally confused as his). So, here is another instance of Watson applying the narrative he wants, almost as though he's manifesting Holmes' resurrection.

I've thrown many ideas together which can probably be easily disregarded, but I tried rereading the story with this perspective, and I think it helped me make sense of certain aspects of the story which never sat comfortably with me. Although I'm not claiming to know the true reason why ACD wrote THotB, I do hope that you can understand the point I'm trying to make.

#slowly going back to my roots of long nonsensical analyses #please add to this if you have anymore ideas #sherlock holmes #sherlock #acd #acd canon #sherlockholmes #john watson #johnlock #acd johnlock

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kavehology · 10 months

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Summary - You confess to the schools most popular student.

Warnings? - cringe, probs bad grammar and spelling, bullying??, light angst idk, gojo himself is a warning, reader uses she/her pronouns.

Notes - THIS IS SATIRE LMFAOOO. Ngl this is gonna be the shittest post I'll ever make on here.

Dedicated to Melly 💕💕

Mean!gojo x shy!reader

It was a beautiful summery day when you had decided that you had started talking to your friends about if you should confess your feelings to the most popular guy at school, Satoru Gojo. All your friends had told you not to fall for him because he was a player and would probably and let's be honest would most likely either reject you in the worst way possible or play with your feelings, but did you listen? No.

The thought of falling for Gojo hadn't actually crossed your mind at the start of the year, you even quite disliked him but suddenly halfway through the year you had realized that you indeed had a crush on him. At first you kept quiet and decided to not tell your friends but knowing them they caught on quick and figured it out, giving you shit about it all up until now. All of them had said multiple times that if you were to at least fall for someone, fall for his best friend, Geto, because at least if he rejected you, he would let you don't softly, but alas you didn't listen as your heart was set on Gojo through and through.

So you called up your best friend and asked her if she could help you with your confession, asking questions like: "how should I do it?" "Do you think he likes me back?" "What do I say?" Stuff like that until you had decided on simply catching him whenever and pulling him to the side and confessing your feelings.

It was the next day and you had woken up feeling excited, enough for your parents to mentally question why their daughter had a pep in her step, like you had physically skipped down the stairs to breakfast.

You had walked into school feeling excited but nervous as ever, you just hoped you wouldn't get rejected. Finding your friends near their lockers you greeted him.

"Hey guys!" You said sheepishly. Everyone had said hi back before one of your friends asked. "Are you going to confess today?" In a sort of joking manor, almost like she doesn't believe you will do it (she doesn't but you don't need to know that.) "Y-yea I am" you replied shyly looking up at her, "I'm gonna try catching him at lunch". As you said that, all of your friends gave each other a look and wished you luck as the bell rang and you made your way to your first class.

As time went on you started to get more nervous, tapping your foot on the ground, clicking your pen annoying the living daylights out of your teachers and trying to doodle to take your mind off of things. You had left your class as slow as you could before leaving and going to find your friends first to gather some courage. After you had found your friends and dropped off your bag, you trotted off to find your crush.

When you eventually found him hanging outside near the courts with his friend Geto you stood there for a moment second guessing whether you should go and confess. Then the thought of if you finally decide to confess, he MIGHT just accept your confession and you could live the happy relationship life you wanted, so you gathered up all the courage you could and walked over as confidently as you could.

Eventually he noticed you walking over and as a smirk spread across his face, you started to get nervous when Geto turned to look at you. It must have been obvious what you were about to do because a look of pity spread across Geto's face and your confident facade faltered a little.

"H-hi!" You said nervously, your heart thumping in your chest. "Hey" Gojo had replied in that playful way that would make you go jelly. "What's up?" He asked. You didn't respond for a moment before replying with : "Can I talk to you?....Alone?"

".."

'wow that came out more awkward than I thought' you said to yourself as Geto and Gojo shared a look.

"Okay...." He said slowly before he started to walk in the opposite direction motioning for you to follow. You and Geto exchange awkward smiles as you walk past him and hurry to catch up with the blue eyed male. Once he had stopped and you awkwardly stood in front of you he asked you what you wanted to say.

Tucking a strand behind your ear shyly you look up at him from under your lashes and start to talk.

"I-I like you Gojo-kun.."

Silence.

Mentally cursing yourself you wonder why you stuttered in front of him. You think of simply telling him not to bother with answering and just run away when suddenly he says something.

"....What?"

You wince before stating again that you like him, stuttering even more. You thought that his silence and him saying "what" meant that he was going to confess back but imagine your horror when you start to hear the sound of laughter roaring out from the person in front of you. Your heart drops to the pits of your stomach as you look around in horror to find almost everyone in the near vicinity staring at you guys. As his laughter starts to subside you start to hear those dreaded words.

"You like me? What type of idiot do you take me for to like you??"

You said nothing as tears welled up in your eyes and people around you start to whisper and chatter as he wasn't exactly quiet about it.

"o-oh-....my bad then, I'm sorry" you say before turning around to find Geto coming over with a frown on his face. You speed walk past as you hear him start to scold Gojo for rejecting you the way he did. Your tears were now rolling down your face like you had been slapped while you quickly tried to find your friends. Word of your rejection must have spread around the school fast because everyone in the halls were whispering and staring making you feel even worse.

You eventually found your friends and simply grabbed your bag and left, you didn't care for what your friends were saying in that moment.

Hot diggity dog 😭 y'all I think I made this a whole ass fic instead of it being satire 💔💔 mb gang

#gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader #mean!gojo x reader

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itstheimpossibledream · 1 year

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Bam

Pairing : Jungkook and reader(y/n)

Word count: 3856

Summary: You drop off Bam from his grooming appointment and finally meet his owner. From there it's sexual tension city !

Warnings : Uprotected sex, domJK, smut , oral, all the things

“Bam!Get out of the tub- Get o-”

The doberman’s eyebrows knitted and he seemed to question why it wouldn’t be fine for him to stay in the bathing tub all day. It wouldn’t have bothered you as much if you didn’t have the most splitting headache,your body begging for the day to be over. The rest of the groom went by without contest. Your coworker had already left for the night so, it was your job to finish up Bam’s look and drop him back off at home. You pulled up to the intimidating building and Bam eased out of the car, leading the way through the halls to his place. Your apron was dusted with an assortment of dog hairs and wet splotches where dogs had shaken to their heart’s content. You had groomed Bam a few times. He was becoming a regular client , and you chuckled to yourself, always finding it funny that people with short haired breeds would choose to get their dog groomed instead of doing it at home themselves. Must be rich you snort to yourself raising your hand to knock on the door. Not that you were mad. After his first groom, the owner had requested you. What you did to make him look so much different than other groomers you had no idea but, you were grateful for the client as well as the consistently generous tip. Even if you never knew who it was coming from. The door opened and the music in the background was much louder than it had seemed in the hallway. He was young and surprisingly attractive. His t-shirt fit loose but, you can see the canyon between his pec muscles through the shirt leaving no illusion to the fact that he was incredibly fit. You wanted desperately to reach your hand out and run your fingers over the hard mounds of flesh but, alas your professionalism was unmatched.

He clears his voice “Thank you.” he extends a colorful arm out to grab Bam’s leash, the large doberman moved accordingly; completely unphased by the facial symmetry of his owner. You feel yourself staring at the tattoos but, each time you think to look away another picture catches your interest. He uses his other hand to put his glasses on his head,creating a temporary headband.

“Was he good?” he asks. While every bone in your body wanted to tell the truth you found yourself unable to disappoint the light in his eyes. The slight dimple, the questioning smile, he was ridiculously good looking. “Yea- ummm he was great !” You lie shifting yourself in the hallway, finally realizing that you have to pee and your headache has not let up.

“ you okay?” He asks noticing your attention change.

“Mmmmhmmm.” you turn to leave but, find yourself immediately turning back. “Actually would you mind if I use your bathroom?” You’re almost embarrassed to ask but you convince yourself to be cool. Everyone has to use the bathroom, be an adult. But let’s be honest ,your only thought was how grateful you were right now that you only had to pee.

“ Ofcourse !” He smiles backing out of the doorway. He clearly thought there was something seriously wrong with you, if asking to use the bathroom was that much of a relief to him. He pointed in the direction of the bathroom and you ran. Embarrassed but aware there was a time stamp on this activity. You relieved yourself quickly; washing your hands and checking your appearance in the mirror and then searching the medicine cabinet for something that would help your headache. You were partially annoyed that you hadn’t found anything and the fancy ass cabinet/mirrored door was so elaborate that it slipped through your hand and crashed into place. You double checked yourself in the mirror and decided to just go with it. Post work you was not your hottest you but, there was really nothing you could do about it now. You chide yourself for that less than helpful pep talk and head out the door.

As you entered the room he turned from the counter gently placing the small glass of soju on the island infront of you and then leaning on the countertop behind him.

“What’s that for?” you ask a smile creeping into your cheeks with the thought that he might want to spend more time with you.

“You look like you need it.” he jokes, extending his arm to grab the other glass that he had filled for himself.

“Cheers!” he smiles like a little kid and downs the liquor. You taste yours as well. He pulls his lips back with a short intake of breath before leaning forward, forearms on the island, bangs beginning to fall free of their glass barrier and floating into his eyes.

“So did that wash down whatever you stole?” his eyes were intent on you studying your face.

“I mean I know I don’t have anything good.” he says, turning to pour again.

“I didn’t take anything. I just had a headache and was looking-” you trail off.

“Ooooo. well you could have just asked!” he brushes past you and goes into the bathroom laughing. He comes back out with the container gingerly twists off the top and you watch as the veins in his fingers work delicately to pull out two pills for you. Your eyes shift to Bam on his dog bed squeaking his toy, happily ignoring the humans in the room.

“Here.” he rolls the pills into your hand and you mumble a thank you. He reaches across the counter for his glass and the bottom of his shirt rides up the smallest bit. You roll your eyes because it's all you can do to keep from tattling on yourself with stares. AVERT YOUR EYES is all your brain is thinking. He hands you the small glass.

“Wasn’t this yours?” you ask.

“Scared of drinking after me?” he plays with you, stepping in closer.

“I don’t know you but, I don’t trust you.” you say mimicking his action and not breaking eye contact. You wonder if it was too much but, you can tell by his body language he was more focused on continuing the conversation.

“I don’t have diseases, if that’s what you're worried about.” he turns and crosses the room petting Bam on the dog bed.

“Says the wealthy, hot man in his 20’s” you snort taking a sip to wash down your medicine. Now, you make a grimace. The alcohol and the ibuprofen create a disgusting fizz on your tongue.

“I’m hot and wealthy you hear that?” he mimics, talking to Bam.It wasn’t like you didn’t stand by your words but, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks as he said it. You look down at the crystal glass in your hand, your thumb picking at the design.

“You can take off your apron if you want.” He says finishing a scratch on the top of Bam’s head, Bam to invested in his toy to notice.

“ O ! Yea…” you begin pulling your apron over your head. You feel it get caught in your hair and almost die of embarrassment. He notices your need for assistance and quickly closes the space between you. You hear him let out a small laugh before you feel his warm hands on top of yours.

“Let me try.” He says calmly.

You huff and put your arms by your side. Acutely aware of the fact that you seemed like a stubborn child but, he soon had you released, popping your hair tie in the process.

“You broke it on purpose.” You joke in a deadpan voice as he presses the broken fibers into your palm. You look up at him and he walks backwards towards his soju again.

“It’s pretty down.” He says winking before he turns to the counter. He moves so quickly you almost weren’t sure if you saw it.

“So you use Bam to lure women back to your home and kill them with compliments?”

“ mmmmm.You started that.” he says between swallows.

“Well don’t get used to it.” You say. “ I’m usually not that nice.”

He snorts at that. “ you work with dogs, I find that hard to believe.” his glasses fall onto his face but, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“ Ahhhhh there’s where you’re wrong.” You smile “ The dogs don’t care if you’re nice, Just consistent. Plus, they’re easy to get along with. They don’t talk.”

“ You think I only intend to talk with you? “ he asks, raising his eyebrows over his glasses. The act itself was enough to make your breath catch in your throat but you somehow manage to stay calm and collected. For a moment it felt as though all the air had left the room. You quietly held your glass, picking again at its intricate design. Listening to the music of his footsteps as he gently pads his way to stand in front of you.

“Do you think I poured you a drink and invited you in, only to talk to you ?” You finally looked up from your glass, he toyed with the piercing on his lower a boyish smile playing on his face.

“Am I not a riveting conversationalist?” you say blankly.

He laughs over your dry humor, using it as an excuse to move closer to you.

“You definitely are.” he promises,stepping closer into you. You can’t help but smile at his smile.Your eyes flicker up to him and you find yourself screaming ‘just do it!’ in your head.

He swings his hand to the crook of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s simpler than you expected, soft but confident. He holds you like that for a while, his mouth working on convincing you, his hand holding your neck and playing in your hair. His other hand comes to the small of your back and you finally feel contact between your lower region and his. He goes slow, pressing into you to test out the levels of your comfort. You focus on the kiss deepening and at the right moment he pulls back and you're able to bite his lip a bit, piercing the opposite side of his mouth. He smiles, bringing his other arm up to your throat, choking you a little bit. His kiss makes your stomach flip. You’re lost in the comfort of his arms but somehow manage to work your hands into his hair. He holds your hip and slowly starts to grind into you. Instinctively you let out a moan , which causes him to break into another smile.

“I’m that good ?” He whispers in your ear. Unable to tolerate his smugness you grab a handful of his hair and pull.

‘O? Really ?’ He asks. You look up at him , unable to respond but not letting up on your grip either. It almost feels made up but, you swear you can see his eyes darken. ‘Let go’ he commands , voice lower than normal. You open your hand and he pulls his shirt over his head slowly only momentarily breaking eye contact with you. ‘Race You!’ He says, throwing the t-shirt at you and you run behind him practically chasing him into his bedroom. He spins around, scooping you up as you run through the threshold of the room.He holds you so you have no option but to wrap your legs around him so as not to fall. ‘Good’ he whispers , pressing his forehead to yours. You knew, it was too smooth. You knew he must have pulled that move a million times before. But, at that moment you didn’t care. He must have felt the hesitation in your body though, you momentarily stiffened and he lets you go. Setting you down,you take a few steps back and watch as he removes his socks and pants. He sits there in his underwear,his thighs thick through his clean Calvin Kleins.

“Your turn” he says, peeking through the bangs of his hair, and folding his glasses on the nightstand. He cocks his head to the side and for a second you can tell he doesn’t know if you’ll oblige him or not. He leans back on his forearms, lip playing with his piercing and the view alone is enough to make you commit to fucking him as long as you physically can. Taking off your shirt makes him illicit a deep hmmm. You feel your stomach flip again at his approval. But, the jokester inside you wins,you turn around and shoot him an overly sexy look. You unhook your bra and let it float to the rug of his room.

“Whooooo Hot!” he cheers you on. You put your all into it, quickly jumping out of your jeans and turning your back to him. You hook your fingers into the sides of your underwear.

“Come On….Sell it !” he screams jokingly. You slowly shift it down your hips until they fall to the floor. You turn your back to face him, your hands barely covering all of your chest.

He tuts with his tongue “show me” his voice is soft, as he reaches out a hand towards you. You step forward, taking his hand and revealing yourself fully to him. He sighs, bringing you in close. You get on your knees in front of him. Somewhat out of want but partially out of habit.

He frowns down at you .

“What are you doing?” his voice is low and gentle. You look up at him, eyes wide and are almost embarrassed by the position you found yourself in. Completely naked on a stranger’s floor after a bit of conversation and one drink. He must be reading the self judgment on your face because he lifts you up, placing his forehead on yours again.

“Hey - we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You relish in the intimacy of being this open to an absolute stranger.

“O there’s nothing I don’t want to do right now.” you whisper to him.

He laughs and the dimples in his cheeks deepen,making it impossible for you not to return his smile. You kiss him and he immediately gives in, lending you confidence that shatters all previous reservations.

“Let’s just go slower “ he says, breaking from you and sitting at the edge of the mattress.

“Ride” he says, slapping his thigh. A shiver races throughout your entire body and you feel your stomach flip as you look at him. He’s serious, you can tell. You slowly close the space between you, lifting one leg to straddle his. You look up at him, face innocent. You kiss him again, this time grabbing him by the throat and adding the slightest bit of pressure. You pull back and he is giving a wide, toothy smile like a kid. “Ride me , please” he jests with a lifting of his eyebrow. You allow him to pull you in again; this time as you kiss you find yourself slowly grinding into his thigh. He lets out a low growl in response and your stomach flutters. He sits his large hand in the crook of your hip and helps to move you on his leg. He can hear your moans becoming higher pitched and right before you get to release all over his leg he lifts you up, swinging your leg to his hip. Now you’re fully straddling him and his hands cup your face as he kisses you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t wait any longer.” he smiles , you lean in to kiss him but, he pulls back, playing coy.

“I thought you couldn’t wait any longer,” you joke.

“I just wanted to see you beg.” he says , lightheartedly.

“ Well I won’t” you say teasingly as he slips a hand between your bodies, smacking at your pussy. You jump a bit at the surprise and his other hand rests at the back of your neck.You omit a low hum as his hand moves in between your legs, coaxing a moan from your body. He smiles, pleased with his work.

“Good girl…. Good girl. Now beg.” You bite your lip, willing to moan but not give in to his demands yet. He uses his hand on your neck to angle your forehead to meet his. You kiss and his lips are unbearably soft. He finally uses two fingers to enter you and your breath hitches in your throat. You rest a hand on his chest and use it as leverage to help you ride his hand. He praises you while you move your hips faster, chasing that feeling. You feel yourself building up to it, almost tasting a touch of ecstasy, right when he removes his hand entirely. Your voice betrays you as you let out a sound in disappointment. He kisses you, soft and slow, holding your neck but extending a thumb to your chin to run the finger over your bottom lip. He sits it on your lip, slowly moving it in and out of your mouth, you suck it instinctively.

“Say please baby.” He kisses you again, and you break the contact to whisper “please, please “ into his lips. As if making a pact with the devil , he immediately flips you over, removing his underwear and carries you into hell. He is a flurry of creamy skin, tattoos and dark hair as he positions his head between your legs beginning with a slow and consistent lick , eventually building to a mouth and hand combination that makes your legs shake. You lock your hand in his hair, grabbing tightly and he laughs up at you reminding you to “be nice.” But he doesn't seem to actually care as you go back to suffocating him in your heat. After your third or fourth orgasm he decides it’s finally time for him to enter you. He speaks, sweetly , angling himself at your opening. His smile holds a mirror to the little boy he once was and while your attraction to him is unparalleled you can’t help but find him trustworthy, to feel as though you know that little boy would grow to be the kind of man who wants to keep you safe.

“I got you , I got you.” he whispers into your ear before trailing his lips down your neck. He can feel your fighting for control of your body again, after coming down from the high of your last O. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and for a moment it feels like floating, him holding you, him filling you up, his voice whispering comfort to you. You watch from below him, as the veins in his neck bulge in the pursuit of his bliss.

“Mmmm” he seems to say to himself , unaware that every sound he makes, assists in sending you over the edge. He held you down by your neck and you scratched at his back while he pushed into you a few more times, creating a space for himself. Carving out a moment of comfort and oneness between the two of you . His eyes closed, and his brows knit together as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“You feel amazing.” he whispers, into a smile.

You kiss him and you feel the shiver that runs through his body. You’re momentarily pleased that he's just as surprised as you are by your physical connection.

“I want to make you cum now.” he says ,sure of himself.

“Oh sooooooo confident !” you joke before he grabs your hips and swings you on top of him. With your hands on his chest you press yourself up and down bouncing on him. He holds the crook of your hip, his tatted arm coming up to grab you by the neck.

You dig your nails into his chest and he tightens his grip on your throat, challenging you as you wind your hips on him. You lean forward and whisper to him “I think I’m going to be the one to make you cum” before sucking on the skin at the side of his neck.

He groans, letting go of your throat to run a hand through his hair. You lean back up to allow him a better view of you while you continue to ride him and you can see the resolve in his face beginning to break. His bicep looks large against the headboard and taking in his body from up top is too overwhelming. His hand makes its way to your chest, gripping at your breast, your nipple nestled safely in between his fingers. It begins quiet but, it doesn’t escape your attention. He keeps closing and reopening his big brown eyes, his chest rising and falling with his moans as he lets you ride him. You’ve fully checked out on pleasing him and are focused on your own pleasure which seems to only intensify the sensations for him. You cannot watch your mouth as you near your orgasm and find yourself letting out a slew of curse words as you use him to reach your apex. His moans get louder and seem partially controlled until he feels you cumming. The contractions around him are too much for him to bear and he lets out a guttural noise you had not yet heard from him. He closes his eyes, head titled back towards the headboard trying to steady his breathing as he recovers from spilling inside you. You’re panting on top of him but find yourself unable to move and grateful for his supportive hands at your hips as you bring your lips down to meet his.

“My god.” he exhales , and you laugh down at him through the wisps of his hair that had fallen in between you. He joins you chuckling, catching your breath as Bam paws at the bottom of the bedroom door. Not in a bad way but, just enough to let you know he is there. Which only makes you both laugh even harder. “I don’t want to move.” he whispers.

“ Well I think Bam would disagree.” Your eyes read his face, trying to sear the memory of this intimacy into your brain forever.

“Well Bam gets to see your beautiful face every few weeks, he can wait a little longer.” He smiles, leaning in to kiss you but you move away. His dimples deepen, attracted by your unwillingness to give in so easily. You turn your eyes to Bam’s pawing at the door.

“Fine.” he rolls his eyes rolling out of you and off of the bed. You watch as the muscles in his back contract as he redresses. He crosses in front of his record collection, coming back to the side of the bed to kiss you on your forehead.

“I’m not done with you yet.” his smile is cheeky as he leaves the room, you can hear the excitement in Bam’s footsteps as they race down the hallway. It was by far your most unprofessional thought of the day but, you found yourself secretly praying he never would be done with you.

201 notes · View notes

starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Penalty Box— Trevor Zegras (Part Twenty)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: nineteen

next: twenty-one

***I SKIPPED THE AVES GAME WHERE Z GOT HURT!!***

SATURDAY, APRIL 1ST

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, and 7,632 others

yourusername welcome to my postgame penalty box update: my boyfriend tried his best edition! now, you might be thinking— “y/n, last update z was at three games since his last penalty! what happened to four?” well, my lovelies, trevor rudely DIED in monday’s game against the aves, and i was a mourning widow, so i did not post that game. he remained dead on thursday’s game against the kraken, but he finally revived for tonight’s game against the oilers!

i, and i’m sure the rest of the world, would like to forget that this game exists. but alas, we cannot, and must persevere onwards to the rest of the season! during z baby’s 19:08 minutes of ice time (second most for forwards; stromer was first with 19:48!) he did not get a penalty! he had some pretty close calls shots wise, but the oilers’ goalie was a doo doo head. z did get hit again pretty hard and had to go to the locker room, but the wind was just knocked out of him and he returned shortly after!

special notes: the broadcasters on the oilers broadcast talked about z! the conversation went as such:

“zegras leads in anaheim in goals and points this season.”

“yep. top player, he’s obviously going to be under a lot of attention. he’s a wizard with the puck on his stick, i’ll tell ya.”

“is he ever; known as the king of the michigan

shoutout to benoit and vatrano to making things interesting!! throw them hands boys!!! tank (vatrano iydk) got a penalty hatty!! comtois had to serve one of them!

p.s. stupid refs for stopped z from throwing hands with ekholm! i wanted to see it! (the broadcasters high key did, too!!)

i love you, always, z baby <3

tagged trevorzegras

view all 223 comments

trevorzegras i love you, forever, y/n/n🧡 (sorry for dying and making you cry)

yourusername meh, i got to play nurse ;)

jamie.drysdale SHE MEANT THIS LITERALLY!!! NOT NSFW!!!

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale that’s what you think

jackhughes @/yourusername we have children!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername we have a kid!

yourusername mommy’s a whore

trevorzegras yeah she is ;)

edwards.73 @/lhughes_06 FIX IT

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes FIX IT

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 @/edwards.73 i’ve given up

user1 when your husband returns from the war🥵

user2 z praise! z praise! z praise!

_alexturcotte how much will power did it take to not post him getting hit and on his knees?

yourusername trevor had to sit on me again

jamie.drysdale and i threatened a divorce

trevorzegras both of these statements are true

yourusername it was a war zone

_alexturcotte sounds about right😂

user3 special note: z was singing along to the national anthem

_quinnhughes we’re getting close to uncharted territory

yourusername i know i’m scared

trevorzegras i’ll make it to seven just you wait

_quinnhughes i’m trembling at the thought

yourusername quaking in my boots

trevorzegras @/yourusername you’re supposed to be on my side!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras did you read the best friend contract? every other weekend she’s on my side

lhughes_06 lazarus?

jackhughes yes

_quinnhughes yes

colecaufield yes

yourusername yes

trevorzegras HEY

user4 tell me why z left the aves game i immediately thought of how much y/n was gonna cry

jamie.drysdale in her defense, we were all pretty worried

trevorzegras when he cares>>>🥵

user5 i find immense joy in the fact that every single nhl broadcaster agrees that z is a wizard and magic with the puck

jackhughes kindly screw up soon

trevorzegras don’t tell me what to do

yourusername excuse my boyfriend he’s a brat

jackhughes he’s not excused

yourusername see, this is why we got divorced

user6 look at the lil slut with his tongue out!

jamie.drysdale at least someone’s winning…

yourusername we’re gonna ignore the losing streak

jamie.drysdale i’m down for that

trevorzegras idk what you’re talking about. what losing streak?

yourusername atta boy

298 notes · View notes

blushy-tigerrr · 8 months

Text

Saved By The Bell - Naruto Tickle Fic

Fandom: Naruto Shippuden

Summary: During the second bell test, Naruto makes an interesting discovery about his Sensei.

Content Warning: mild language

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: it has been SO LONG since i last wrote a fic so i'm v nervous about posting this, but i am pretty proud of it! i hope you enjoy!

Naruto and Sakura ducked behind a tree, breathing heavily as they tried to recover some energy from all of the failed attempts at retrieving the bells from Kakashi. Their brains were moving a mile a minute, trying desperately to figure out a new tactic. It’s been about three years since the first time they had tried to do this, and as strong as the two of them have gotten in that time, it was still incredibly difficult. It didn’t help that the pressure was up this time as Lady Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage and Sakura’s mentor, and Jiraiya, Naruto’s mentor, were watching and evaluating their fight. With the extra amount of pressure they were feeling, the two of them couldn’t help but wonder if they had even progressed much at all.

Kakashi, however, felt the amount of growth his students had achieved. As opposed to last time they fought him like this, he wasn’t daring to let even a little bit of his guard down. He knew how much stronger Naruto and Sakura had become, and because of this, he knew he’d be defeated easily if he relaxed for even a second. Even so, he couldn’t fully keep his mind away from his new “Make-Out Tactics” book that Naruto had brought him. He’d never dare to start reading while facing opponents like these, but the desire was there, and it was strong.

Naruto sighed, his breath becoming steadier. “Man, that Kakashi is ridiculously strong. I mean, he’s smarter than Shikamaru, he has a better sense of smell than Kiba, his Sharingan is better than Sasuke’s, his Taijutsu is better than Lee’s… and he’s got way more experience than us.”

“You’re right, but even so…” Sakura interjected curiously, “even he must have a weakness.” She squinted her eyes as if to see the possibilities written out in front of her. “We just have to think about it…”

“A weakness, huh?” Naruto wondered aloud, joining Sakura and becoming deep in thought. He cycled through every fight he’s seen Kakashi in, trying to figure out what his weakness could possibly be. It was hard to find the answer with an opponent so strong. Maybe, his weakness wasn’t a physical thing, like a blind spot. Maybe… Naruto gasped suddenly. “I’ve got it!”

Sakura’s head whipped towards Naruto in surprise, her brow slightly furrowed. “Really? You know Kakashi’s weakness? Tell me!” She leaned in, prompting him to whisper so no one would overhear their plotting. Naruto stifled a giggle, playing out his ridiculous plan in his head.

“Sakura, think about it for a minute. If you really look back at all of Kakashi Sensei’s actions, you’ll know what I’m thinking of.” Naruto smirked, waiting for Sakura to think of it, too. She did think very hard, in fact. Alas, she wasn’t able to see it the way that Naruto did so clearly. He beckoned her close to him and whispered his plan into her ear. As the words left his mouth, her face switched from a confused expression into a wide, scheming smile.

“Oh, I get it now! Naruto, that’s a genius idea!” She exclaimed, feeling her hands begin to shake in excitement. “You really are the most unpredictable knucklehead ninja I’ve ever met.” Naruto growled, lightly smacking Sakura in the arm, making her laugh.

“Hey! How dare you call me a knucklehead when I just came up with that amazing plan! You said it yourself, it was genius.” He smirked, crossing his arms in a playfully arrogant way. Sakura rolled her eyes at his actions.

“No matter how many great plans you come up with, you’ll always be a knucklehead to me, Naruto.” She teased. Naruto copied her eye roll, still smirking.

“Whatever. Let’s just go before Kakashi Sensei starts getting suspicious.” He began to move noiselessly in Kakashi’s direction, Sakura close behind him. They both focused on their movements, making sure to draw no attention to themselves while also making their way through the trees as quickly as possible. Before they knew it, they were crouched behind a bush about thirty feet away from Kakashi.

Kakashi couldn’t sense their presence yet, but his guard was very much up, anticipating a sneak attack from a direction that wouldn’t be expected. He would never admit it to his two students, but he started to feel a bit nervous. He couldn’t place exactly why. All he knew is that he should be expecting the unexpected. But then he wondered, what could be so unexpected that it warranted him feeling this nervous? When he saw his two students appear from behind a bush, that was when the nerves really started to kick in. They couldn’t possibly think a head-on attack would work, could they?

“Huh… attacking me head-on like this. Are you sure that’s the best course of action?” Kakashi questioned his students, keeping his voice even as he readied his defensive stance. The two stood before him, and Kakashi couldn’t miss the eagerness in their stances. What on Earth did they have planned?

“Now, Naruto!” Sakura’s sudden exclamation prompted the two of them to jump into the air, diving slowly towards Kakashi. He couldn’t help but gain a confused look. All three of them knew that Kakashi could destroy them easily in a frontal attack like this. He stood, still ready to attack at any moment, but he watched them closely, analyzing every movement down to the tiniest muscle twitch.

“Alright, Kakashi Sensei…” Naruto started to speak as they continued to descend. Kakashi cocked his head to the side slightly, surprised that he’d use a moment like this for conversational language. “At the end of ‘Make-Out Tactics’…”

Oh. Oh.

Those words sent a chill down Kakashi’s spine. There was no way Naruto was resorting to such a dirty trick. Spoiling the ending of the book he had just received that day? What kind of a monster did he train?! Kakashi covered his ears out of instinct, preventing himself from hearing any more of Naruto’s words. He kept his eyes locked on their movements, but then he realized…

“As it happens, the main character…” No! He could still read Naruto’s lips because of his Sharingan! His eyes clamped shut, determined not to find out any spoilers that Naruto might have known. He was also Jiraiya’s student, and he’s the author of these books, after all. It was more likely than not that Naruto knew exactly how this book went, and Kakashi would rather lose this fight than have his favorite series spoiled for him.

Kakashi felt a sudden jab at his right side, close to his hip. His eyes shot open with a gasp, as his hands flew down to protect himself from… that. Much to his dismay, the jabs kept coming one after another. He felt his face begin to flush in embarrassment as he choked back the laughter that was about to come out of his mouth. There was no way he was letting his students learn both of his weaknesses in the same day.

“Damn it, where the hell are they?!” A familiar voice mumbled to no one in particular. Kakashi looked down to see that the culprit of the pokes was none other than Naruto. He was obviously searching for something… wait. “Where are they? Where are the bells?!” Naruto’s hands kept searching as Kakashi felt his defenses begin to crumble. He inhaled deeply and held his breath. He could not, would not let this happen. Not in front of the Fifth Hokage herself.

When Naruto’s hands reached the bottom of his ribs, Kakashi felt himself involuntarily move away from the poking. This made Naruto stop what he was doing and stare curiously at his teacher. Kakashi stared back, his eyes a little bit wider than normal. His heart rate began to increase when he saw a devious glint in Naruto’s eyes. Naruto reached out to land another poke into Kakashi’s ribs, eliciting a quiet yelp from the older.

“Say, Kakashi Sensei…” Naruto’s voice was lower than before, almost a growl. Kakashi swallowed, his face growing more flushed the closer Naruto gets to him. “You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you?”

Kakashi felt his breath catch in his throat hearing those words. “Now, Naruto…” His voice had a slight tremble to it, but he tried to keep his tone calm and level. “Is this really necessary? You would have defeated me just now. We don’t need to resort to such tactics.”

Naruto chuckled, stepping even closer to Kakashi with his hands reaching out in front of him. “If you’re hiding the bells from us, then I have no other choice.” He leapt at Kakashi suddenly, attaching his fingers to his sides and digging in mercilessly. Kakashi gasped, putting his hands over Naruto’s in an attempt to push them away. He gritted his teeth to prevent any laughter from slipping out of his mouth. He was determined to keep up his stoic facade for as long as possible.

“N-Naruto, this isn’t necessary. C-come on, stop this.” Kakashi’s voice came out a bit more strained than normal as he held back his laugh. As ticklish as he was, Kakashi was able to handle this spot pretty well. As long as Naruto didn’t get any other ideas, that is. Not satisfied with the reaction he was getting, Naruto furrowed his brow in deep thought.

“I think it’s very necessary, Kakashi Sensei! If you’re unfairly hiding the bells from us, I have to find them by any means.” Naruto moved his hands up to Kakashi’s ribs, scratching each finger between each of the bones. Kakashi let out a strong exhale, still holding his laughter in, but just barely. His hands still stayed on top of Naruto’s, trying to detach his fingers from his ribs. The feeling of all ten of Naruto’s fingers wiggling in between his ribs was almost too much to handle. Naruto grinned mischievously, noticing Kakashi’s face becoming more red as the tickling continued.

“You’re really not letting up? Man, I guess I have to do it, then…” Those words from Naruto made Kakashi’s stomach do a backflip. He started to squirm underneath the tickly touch, wondering what on Earth he could have possibly thought of to escalate the situation.

“Well, as I was saying before, the main character in ‘Make-Out Tactics’…”

Kakashi gasped, covering his ears and clamping his eyes shut once more. Damn, Naruto was much better at finding his weaknesses than he’d like to admit. “N-no! I’m not listening!” Kakashi exclaimed in a panic. What he failed to consider, however, was just how vulnerable he had made himself in this one motion. Naruto chuckled, taking the chance that was given to him. He shot his now free hands up into Kakashi’s underarms.

Kakashi’s arms came crashing down as his entire body curled in on itself. The laughter that he was fighting back finally bubbled to the surface in the form of soft, hysterical giggles. His face flushed even deeper than before, feeling embarrassed about reacting in such a way, especially in front of the people that were around. As Naruto’s fingers scratched in the sensitive spot, Kakashi couldn’t help himself but squirm even more than before.

Naruto was shocked. He had never heard Kakashi laugh like this. He didn’t even know if he’d heard Kakashi laugh at all before, so to see him reduced to a giggling mess was a hilarious sight. “Wow, Kakashi Sensei! You’re way more ticklish than I would have thought!” He continued to scratch his nails in Kakashi’s underarms, causing his teacher’s laughter to slowly get louder.

“N-Narutohoho, plehehease! This ihis soho childihihihish!” Kakashi cackled, trying half heartedly to bat Naruto’s arms away from him. Could he have gotten the kid off of him easily with one swift motion? Absolutely, but to be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed his guard to drop this much. It had to have been years since he felt himself laugh even a little bit. As embarrassing as it all was, a bigger part of it felt refreshing.

“Oh, you think this is childish? I’ll show you childish!” Naruto taunted, throwing pokes all around Kakashi’s torso, making his laughter spike up an octave. “Childish is hiding the bells from me when I beat you, fair and square!”

Kakashi’s eyes were still squeezed shut due to his loud laughter. All of a sudden, the tickling sensations increased rapidly. He felt so many different spots being targeted all at once. While the scratching in his underarms continued, he additionally felt fingers wiggling against his stomach and his ribs. Then, there was a pair of hands scratching behind his knees, forcing a surprised squeak out of Kakashi’s mouth. His legs began to shake due to the new spot being targeted. How was this even possible? He forced open his eyes and finally realized: he was being attacked by Naruto and three of his Shadow Clones.

Once he found out what had happened, Kakashi’s body surrendered to the sensations. He let unfiltered laughter flood out of his mouth as his legs finally gave out, making him end up on the ground. All four Narutos followed him down, all of their hands staying attached to the spots they were targeting. Kakashi was almost in tears laughing, completely unable to get away from the eight hands that were attacking him. “Nahahaharutoho! Plehehease, stohohohop!”

“I’ll stop as soon as you tell me where the damn bells are!” The real Naruto yelled, his three Shadow Clones laughing along.

Jingle.

Hearing that soft, familiar sound ring through the chaos made both Naruto and Kakashi freeze. All of their remaining chakra was focused in their ears, listening intently for the sound of the bells.

Jingle.

Their heads whipped around to see Sakura standing a few feet away from them, holding both of the bells, one in each hand. Kakashi felt his face pale at the sight as Naruto bolted over to grab one of the bells out of her hand with a satisfied chuckle.

“Y-you had them the whole time, Sakura?” Kakashi stammered, slowly gathering himself and getting to his feet. Sakura had a small smile on her face as she blushed a bit.

“Yeah… I’m sorry, Kakashi Sensei! I just thought… you looked like you were having fun, so I didn’t want to make you guys stop so soon.” Sakura explained sheepishly. Kakashi couldn’t help but smile at her statement, his face remaining a deep shade of pink.

“Well… you aren’t necessarily wrong.” Kakashi admitted, making both of his students stare at him in shock. He shrugged as he continued his thought. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time my body was able to relax like that, and I don’t even think either of you had ever heard me laugh before.” Naruto and Sakura looked at each other, knowing that to be true. Kakashi smiled at them before looking around the area. “Now, I have one thing to ask, and this goes for everyone here, so listen up.” As Kakashi spoke, Tsunade and Jiraiya poked their heads out of the trees, their grinning faces focused on him intently.

“What is it, Kakashi Sensei?” Naruto asked, his eyes shining with glee. Kakashi sighed, directing this statement mostly at the two Sannin.

“Please, do not tell Gai about this. He will never let me live a peaceful life with this information.” Jiraiya snickered as he and Tsunade shared a mischievous glance.

“No promises.” Tsunade responded with a scheming smile. Kakashi sighed even deeper this time, holding his face in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Kakashi Sensei! We’ll protect your honor!” Naruto exclaimed, positioning himself in front of Kakashi, using a defensive stance.

Sakura giggled and mirrored Naruto’s actions. “Yeah! We’ll protect you no matter what!”

Kakashi smiled, grateful for the incredible Shinobi his students had become. “Thank you. Now, what do you say I treat you two to some ramen as a congratulations?” His students let out a yell of excitement, racing each other back to the village. Kakashi followed close behind them while Tsunade and Jiraiya lingered for just a moment longer.

“You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?” Jiraiya asked the Hokage.

Tsunade chuckled. “Oh, I absolutely am.”

#tickling #tickle fic #naruto tickle fic #lee!kakashi #ler!naruto #my works

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thefirstknife · 2 months

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(Taking this out of the reblog chain because Post Too Big) So, I crawled through my old screenshots and clips and the only screens of Saint's Tomb that I have are either from Not Even The Darkness or the actual mission to rescue Saint during Season of Dawn. I tried trawling through youtube uploads and I thought that I found something that would answer the question--I was ready to eat crow on Saint being gone and chalk it up to Dunning-Kruger effect on my part--but it was a video of doing the Mercury Flashpoint from Day 1 of Season of Dawn, rendering it moot. So the question of "Did Saint's Body Remain In All Instances of The Dark Future Or Not" is something I have to punt to fandom at large ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I did, however, find screens relating to the Perfect Paradox quest during Season of Dawn, which look to be relevant re: diverging Timelines:

Thanks for looking into it! I am also very intrigued by the possibility of them actually changing original stuff to reflect the things we've done in Dawn, but alas. With 4 years gone since this content was available I understand it might be almost impossible to figure this one out. Unless someone finds something, I think the best is to refer to what happened lore-wise; aka we never went back to that specific spot in lore, even if in-game the area may have been reused at some point. That is, until (if?) anything states it explicitly.

For all intents and purposes, the body should've been gone after Dawn.... technically. Depends on how they intend to deal with the the fact that it was secured in a specific simulation in the Forest; maybe the body is meant to stay there forever because it's a part of the simulation now so no matter what, that snapshot of reality is preserved in the Forest? And ofc, it depends on how they want to deal with the timeline stuff.

Speaking of! I remember this part from the quest and I didn't want to go into it back when I made the big post about Saint and how we saved him, mostly because it raises several different questions that would lead me into several new tangents, about details that may or may not be relevant, and may or may not have been planned out in such detail to begin with. There's always been a few questions I had about this.

First, Osiris specifies that this Paradox is from an "altered form of your Light that dates back to the Dark Age." That implies that this Paradox was pulled from our hands when we were in the past. Osiris is also confused; at this point he doesn't actually know that the Guardian Saint spoke of as having saved him and inspired him was us, so that explains the line of "What timeline exists that I have yet to see, that places you in the Dark Age?"

Second, the multiple timelines and us grabbing guns from them is more or less canon. So us grabbing a Paradox from another timeline that alerts Osiris to something odd going on is not too bad. But does it matter? I can't figure this one out mostly because of how the lore and the quest was otherwise fully focused on the original Paradox, the one we made in the Infinite Forge.

It's in the lore on the gun:

All I have left is this weapon. The Cryptarchs say you crafted it yourself, built it out of scraps and Light and sheer will, inside the Infinite Forge.

So the gun he has could be identified (at least according to the Cryptarchs) as having been made in the Infinite Forge. And then in the Impossible Task:

The Shotgun you crafted in the Infinite Forge is reacting to the Sundial! An onboard transponder is broadcasting coordinates: a path through the Sundial, crossing two time periods. The prophecy blueprint you used to create the Perfect Paradox must have included this broadcast.

Ghost specifies that we go into the Sundial following a signal from the Paradox we crafted in the Infinite Forge, not the one we pulled from the Sundial. It's also tied to the prophecy tied to the weapon, apparently. So what's the deal with the Perfect Paradox from another timeline we got from the Sundial if we didn't even take that to save Saint?

Is this because, no matter what, at some point in some timeline, Perfect Paradox has to always be crafted by us? Perfect Paradox was crafted by the YW in the Infinite Forge, in every timeline, no matter the outcome? So no matter which one is pulled from the Sundial, it still has the same Light signature and the prophecy and everything? Did we take our original (from Curse) to Saint or did we just take this one we pulled from the Sundial in Dawn that Osiris had to restore first?

But no matter how that's done, we craft it from the remains picked up from Saint's body, which means that no matter what, in every timeline, we somehow deliver this gun to Saint, and he dies with it. Except... Of course. We saved him in at least one them.

Does any of this even matter? Does any of this make any difference to the outcome and to Saint's fate? Or to the situation Saint is in right now?

Osiris says this at the end of the quest:

"Sometimes my research brings more questions than answers."

That's so true bestie. But it's also a pretty good indication that this whole situation is maybe confusing on purpose. As in, the characters don't know either, and there's no way for them to know or really test this, and we're not really meant to know the details, though obviously by the Traveler we will try.

I'm assuming we'll get some word on some of this next week. I'm not expecting a fully detailed dissertation, but at least something on the question of timelines and if the different timelines matter(ed) in this case with the Paradox and saving Saint. Maybe we even find out (here comes the tangents) what the hell was this about:

"And how many timelines did you thoughtlessly tether to our own for this weapon? Our world now bears the strain of how many additional realities in exchange for this hollow abomination?"

We'll definitely be getting a new Perfect Paradox so maybe through that, we'll find something out about the timelines.

Overall, the details of this whole thing are fairly confusing, though I'm not expecting much else from a plot about time travel with a paradox in a setting where multiple timelines are canon. I think some of it will never be truly solved, which in a way fits; we can't get proof from other timelines. But on the other hand: I want to know. Maybe next week will clear at least some parts of this up once and for all.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #echoes #echoes spoilers #saint-14 #ask #long post #i'll be completely crazy by next tuesday

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arokel · 6 months

Note

Don/Bobby after their first win?

hello anon!!! sorry this is so late; i meant to post it much sooner but alas i am god's sleepiest soldier. but it's here now!

Nice and Easy

Word count: 960 Rating: G Pairing: Don/Bobby

Every muscle in Don’s body hurts. The skin of his cheeks feels tight and a little warm to the touch, a pink he’s sure must be deepening to red. Breathing is agony. He’s never felt better.

And Bobby is beside him, sweaty and grinning, running his mouth in the way Don has already come to find dangerously endearing in the few weeks they’ve known each other. It makes him want to say things he shouldn’t, and the only thing stopping him right now is the fact that he can’t get a word in edgewise.

“And you saw their faces when we passed them, Christ, felt so good to wipe that smugness right off ‘em. We destroyed those assholes. And it was all thanks to you, Don.”

“It was just a time trial,” Don says in the brief pause while Bobby takes a deep breath in preparation to start up again. He has to fight down his natural awkwardness and propensity for blushing; Bobby is being much too kind. “And I just did my part.”

Bobby shakes his head like a dog emerging from the water, so violently that a drop of sweat lands on Don’s cheek. It should be gross. But, somehow, as is everything Bobby does in Don’s eyes, it’s mostly cute.

“But it was varsity. And you knew exactly what to do; it was like you were reading my mind out there. I’ve never had a stroke who could do that. You’re the best. You carried that boat.”

Don glances guiltily around the empty shell house, just in case he miscounted and one of his teammates is still lingering after all. Bobby is just exaggerating because he’s excited and on is the only target on hand for his praises, but it still wouldn’t be great if anyone else overheard. They’d be hurt by the implied slight to their own rowing, and then Don would have to tell Bobby to stop complimenting Don alone. Which he doesn’t want to do.

He knows Bobby would be just as nice to Chuck or Joe or anyone else if it was them standing there instead of Don. Don isn’t special to Bobby. It’s just nice to let himself pretend he could be for a little while.

“I don’t think I could do it with another cox,” he says quietly. Let Bobby think it’s just the win spurring Don to hyperbole too. “You’re just… you. It’s easy with you.”

Bobby makes a small sound of surprise, opening and closing his mouth several times. Don might be proud of himself for how easily he managed to shut Bobby up if he weren’t so busy being mortified by the fact that he obviously misjudged the level of sincerity appropriate to the situation.

He tries to walk it back. “Not - I mean - you’re very… easy to listen to. Hear, I mean. You enunciate well.”

“Not a chance,” Bobby says with another shake of the head - slower, this time, closer to amazed. “You don’t get to take it back. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Don Hume. Don’t cheapen it with qualifications.”

“Nicest thing about your coxing, you mean,” Don says. Even laying claim to that small honor sends further heat to his face and makes the aches and weariness in the rest of his body recede a little. He could say even nicer things, if they weren’t so terribly incriminating.

Bobby bites his lip, smiling at his feet. He looks shy. “No, I mean nicest thing about me ever.”

He has to be exaggerating again. Don wants him to be exaggerating.

“But… all I said was that you’re you,” he says, bewildered.

Bobby’s lip is still caught between his teeth when he looks up, stretched into a sweetly pleased smile. “Yeah. But you said it like it’s a good thing.”

Don wants to do a lot more to the varsity crew’s faces than wipe an expression off them, if he’s right in thinking they played any part in making Bobby think it wouldn’t be a good thing. But there’s also a small thrill of possessive pride creeping up from his chest and into his already-red cheeks at the thought that he made Bobby smile like that, and maybe no one else ever has.

He wants to do it again.

“It’s a fantastic thing. You’re…”

His words fail him. All the things he wants to say, the things that come too easily to his tongue whenever he’s around Bobby - they’re all too dangerous. He falls silent instead.

“I’m?”

Bobby’s eyes are so bright.

“You’re… good. As a cox and… and just by being you,” Don says. He doesn’t know Bobby all that well yet, but that much, he knows, is true.

He watches Bobby take the words in, watches that smile reappear - smaller than Don would like, shyer, and yet somehow brighter even than the shine of his eyes. Bobby doesn’t sunburn as easily as Don does, but his cheeks are pink anyway.

Bobby clears his throat. “Careful with those compliments, Don, or I’ll get spoiled.”

“Good,” Don says, too caught in the loveliness of the whole picture to think before he speaks. “I want to.”

He shuts his mouth in horror and waits, heart sinking, as Bobby’s drops open in surprise. Any second now that smile will vanish, those eyes will turn cold, and Don will have to face the consequences of how stupidly, damnably easy Bobby makes things.

This time when Bobby bites his lip, it looks intentional.

“Okay. You can spoil me. If you want to,” he says, just above a whisper. “And… if there’s anything else you want - you can do that too.”

Don doesn’t have to read Bobby’s mind to know what’s being asked of him. It’s just easy.

#the boys in the boat #bobby moch #don hume #don hume x bobby moch #bitb fic

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hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend · 19 days

Text

Day 5: Stamp no warnings. word count 855

“Thank you, Katla,” Lady Akagane says, flipping through the various letters and missives, finding many of them for her husband. “Has any other news come in about her?”

The older caretaker shakes her head, “No, my lady, I’m afraid the last thing we know for sure is that she was in Ishgard.”

“And that was over a year ago,” Lady Akagane sighs, waving Katla away, “I will see these to my husband, and see to it that lunch will be suitable to have outdoors.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Katla gives a bow, leaving Lady Akagane alone in the sitting area, tears starting to form in her eyes, “Where could you possibly be my little Siberite?” The coarse envelope pulls her from visions of what could have befell her daughter, thicker and more crude than the rest of the letters with its grey envelope. While there’s no return address the Kugane ink stamp is undeniable as it sits above a pasted on stamp from the Thavnair embassy. Lady Akagane gasps, fingers rushing to open it, shaking hands pulling out paper with handwriting she knows all too well. “Honey!” She cries out running to her husband’s office, “Honey, my love, take a look at this.” She hands the letter and envelope to her husband, “Tell me I’m not dreaming, that you too recognize the handwriting.”

Lord Akagane exhales as eyes scan to the signature at the bottom, “It’s from her. There is no denying our Siberite’s signature.”

Lady Akagane takes the letter back quickly, hugging it to her chest, spinning around, “She’s alive! My baby girl is alive!”

“What does she say, darling?”

“Hm? Oh yes.” Lady Akagane clears her throat, and sits in an effort to steady her shaking hands.

Dear Mother and Father,

I shall start this off by saying that I am alive and well. I am also no longer in Ishgard, if you could not tell by the post markings, and by the time you get this I will no longer be in Kugane. So there is no point in sending Khutula after me.

I will keep what I have been up to brief. After I spent time in Ishgard, I went to Ala Mhigo to help with the resistance effort. It didn’t go quite as planned so I soon found myself in the Far East! It’s been liberated now, and I got to meet Lord Hien.

Oh I should tell you I have befriended many a leader in my travels. From the Sultana to Ser Aymeric and to obviously Lord Hien. Which, if I am being honest mother, I can understand the reason for why he was a top choice for you. However we are just friends and I prefer it that way.

Now that Doma has been liberated, along with Ala Mhigo, I don’t know exactly what comes next. For now I think father will be happy to know that I am finally putting my political studies to proof, as the aftermath is….something.

I hope you both are doing well. I love you. And please don’t go looking for me. I will return home when I am ready or needed.

Sincerely,

Siberite

P.S. Please also take care of the invoice I sent. It would be much appreciated. You can even take it out of my inheritance if you would like. Thank you!

“Oh did you hear that honey! She’s befriended Lord Hien and is alive and well!” Lady Akagane squeals, holding the letter to her chest. “Where’s Khutula? He must hear this, he has been as worried as I am. And I now have a lead on her whereabouts.”

Lord Akagane looks down at the handwritten invoice from a pawn shop, shaking his head and groaning, “She spent five million gil on a sword, dear.”

Lady Akagane looks over at the invoice, “No, it was only three. The rest is taxes and fees she has no control over.”

“That’s still three million for a single item. At a pawn shop no less.”

“Oh what does that matter. Our daughter is alive and well, and has befriended Lord Hien most of all!” The woman spins with a smile, “Happy news! Happy news indeed! And should the man truly be opposed to marriage then she has the Lord Commander Aymeric as a friend.”

“I believe he’s the Lord Speaker now that the Dragonsong War came to a close.”

“Hm? Oh right, yes. She has befriended the Lord Speaker Aymeric which is a close second.” She waltzes around the room, “Yes, I shall foster these friendships and encourage them to pursue her, and before you know it she will be safe and married and we will never have to worry about her again, my dear!” Lady Akagane gives her husband a kiss on the cheek, making her way out of his office. “My Siberite has befriended suitable matches, thank the Sisters!”

Siberite’s father begins to write out the withdrawal from their accounts, calling out to his blissful humming wife, “Please refrain from excessive letter writing, dear. We wouldn’t want to scare them off.”

“I won’t! I only mean to pen a few letters!”

#AND THEN IT WASN'T JUST A FEW LETTERS!#sorry to these men but that woman is /determined/#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #the akagane family #siberite akagane oc #my writing

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