Flash Fiction (Take Four - Part Two)
Jan. 2nd, 2011 11:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Gooooood moooooorning!
Today I have three more of the flash fiction from Friday. Enjoy!
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mandalee1013
Prompt: GinxKiraxRangiku, “The Ghost in You”
Gin, Izuru, and Rangiku are characters from the anime/manga Bleach by Tite Kubo. Warnings for angst, boysmut, boygirlsmut, and an implied threesome.
For yamitoyoru
Prompt: Gin/Ichigo romance
Gin and Ichigo are characters from the anime/manga Bleach by Tite Kubo. This bit fits into the "Just Rewards " and "Heaven Can Wait" universe. Warnings for language and a kiss between men.
For gypsygrrl420
Prompt: Shuuhei, “Numb,” Linkin Park
Shuuhei (and all mentioned characters) is from the anime/manga Bleach by Tite Kubo. Warnings for massive spoilers, angst, and foul language.
Three more pieces of flash fiction to come! Along with interesting news about a new Bleach fic that's coming out soon. *grins*
Today I have three more of the flash fiction from Friday. Enjoy!
For
mandalee1013 Prompt: GinxKiraxRangiku, “The Ghost in You”
Gin, Izuru, and Rangiku are characters from the anime/manga Bleach by Tite Kubo. Warnings for angst, boysmut, boygirlsmut, and an implied threesome.
When he kisses her, she tastes of sake and sweets. She moans into his mouth, her fingers soft and sure as they walk over his skin, pressing them closer together. They move together in a familiar rhythm, one that seems to be missing a third of the notes, but Izuru steadfastly ignores that and deepens the kiss.
Rangiku is warm and soft in all the right places. She knows just how to touch him, just how to make him squirm and ignite a fire deep in his belly. He loves to card his fingers through her hair, let the silky strands slide through his fingers. He loves to watch her eyes darken with lust when he kisses down her abdomen, peppering his mouth over her breasts and stomach, tonguing her belly button. That always makes her squirm, sometimes laugh.
He likes to hear her laugh. Kami knows they haven't done enough of that lately.
His hand slides along her thigh and Rangiku lets him slide against her, sliding deep inside of her in one slick thrust that makes them both moan. She clutches at him, her slim fingers and nails digging into his back, her legs wrapping around his waist. Izuru gasps into her throat, licking up the smooth column, tasting sweat while surrounded by the subtle perfume she always wears.
He doesn't move, just throbs inside of her, and it takes a moment for Izuru to realize just what he's waiting for: another hand to join the fray. He's anticipating, hoping, waiting for those elegant fingers to drag down his back, for a slimmer, warm body to press against him from behind, to circle long arms around both Izuru and Rangiku in a firm embrace.
That touch never comes, it can't come, not anymore, and Izuru plants an apologetic kiss on Rangiku's collarbone. She makes a noise, a rumble of understanding in her throat, and Izuru starts to move, long and gentle thrusts that build the fire between them into a low, hungry flame. Her nails drag down his back, light scores that seem desperate to replace the missing sensation of long, caressing fingers.
They say nothing more than allowing quiet gasps and moans, both acutely aware of the missing presence, the missing factor that adds an element of off-rhythm to their movements. But even that unease doesn't prevent their bodies from responding, from Rangiku clenching around him and Izuru coming with a shudder that travels from head to toe in waves of dizzying pleasure.
Izuru collapses in her arms in a sticky, sweaty tangle. He can hear her heatbeat beneath his ears as he hooks one arm around her waist, drawing her tightly against him. And he waits, always waits, for the arm to throw itself over the both of them and the heat to lie against Izuru's exposed back.
Izuru waits a long time for something that's not going to come, Gin's absent presence here more startling than the empty captain's seat in the third division.
Rangiku is warm and soft in all the right places. She knows just how to touch him, just how to make him squirm and ignite a fire deep in his belly. He loves to card his fingers through her hair, let the silky strands slide through his fingers. He loves to watch her eyes darken with lust when he kisses down her abdomen, peppering his mouth over her breasts and stomach, tonguing her belly button. That always makes her squirm, sometimes laugh.
He likes to hear her laugh. Kami knows they haven't done enough of that lately.
His hand slides along her thigh and Rangiku lets him slide against her, sliding deep inside of her in one slick thrust that makes them both moan. She clutches at him, her slim fingers and nails digging into his back, her legs wrapping around his waist. Izuru gasps into her throat, licking up the smooth column, tasting sweat while surrounded by the subtle perfume she always wears.
He doesn't move, just throbs inside of her, and it takes a moment for Izuru to realize just what he's waiting for: another hand to join the fray. He's anticipating, hoping, waiting for those elegant fingers to drag down his back, for a slimmer, warm body to press against him from behind, to circle long arms around both Izuru and Rangiku in a firm embrace.
That touch never comes, it can't come, not anymore, and Izuru plants an apologetic kiss on Rangiku's collarbone. She makes a noise, a rumble of understanding in her throat, and Izuru starts to move, long and gentle thrusts that build the fire between them into a low, hungry flame. Her nails drag down his back, light scores that seem desperate to replace the missing sensation of long, caressing fingers.
They say nothing more than allowing quiet gasps and moans, both acutely aware of the missing presence, the missing factor that adds an element of off-rhythm to their movements. But even that unease doesn't prevent their bodies from responding, from Rangiku clenching around him and Izuru coming with a shudder that travels from head to toe in waves of dizzying pleasure.
Izuru collapses in her arms in a sticky, sweaty tangle. He can hear her heatbeat beneath his ears as he hooks one arm around her waist, drawing her tightly against him. And he waits, always waits, for the arm to throw itself over the both of them and the heat to lie against Izuru's exposed back.
Izuru waits a long time for something that's not going to come, Gin's absent presence here more startling than the empty captain's seat in the third division.
yamitoyoru Prompt: Gin/Ichigo romance
Gin and Ichigo are characters from the anime/manga Bleach by Tite Kubo. This bit fits into the "Just Rewards " and "Heaven Can Wait" universe. Warnings for language and a kiss between men.
He stands in the doorway and watches, breath held, and perfectly motionless, his reiatsu so tightly confined within him that Ichigo swears the loudest thing about him is his heartbeat. It's not so much that Gin doesn't like to be watched, but that Ichigo enjoys watching his lover when Gin doesn't know he's being watched. His movements are freer, less showoff and more personal.
Gin doesn't have Shinsou, but that doesn't stop him from keeping his skills fresh. The plain katana that they bought years back cleaves smoothly through the air, each movement fluid and precise, almost like a dance. Long, pale limbs, Gin's eyes closed as he breathes in and out, lost to the motions.
He's beautiful like this, a thought Ichigo keeps to himself because Gin doesn't like to be called beautiful or reminded of his good qualities. Maybe because he doesn't think they are true or that he deserves such compliments. Or perhaps such things are reminders of unhappy times in Rukongai where attractiveness was a curse and not a blessing.
So Ichigo watches, barely breathing, barely moving, heat coiling in his belly, and affection washing over him.
The katana whips through the air, a whisper of movement, as Gin finishes the last of his round and comes to a rest. He pauses, arms down, katana dangling at his side. Ichigo can only see his back, but he knows that Gin's eyes are closed as he meditates, slowly encouraging his breath to a calmer rhythm.
“I knew ya were watchin',” Gin says, his voice floating softly into the silence.
Ichigo feels his lips curl as he pushes himself off the door frame, quietly unfurling the tight hold of his reiatsu so that he no longer feels so stifled. “I can't help myself,” he replies as Gin returns the katana to it's sheath and sets it on the stand above the mantle.
Gin slants a look at him from the corner of his eye. “And ya call me the pervert.”
Yet, he doesn't protest when Ichigo slides an arm around Gin's perpetually small waist, tugging the former traitor into an embrace. Gin is damp with sweat, exertion brightening his pale cheeks with a hint of pink. Ichigo doesn't lean in for a kiss however, his lips wandering to the hollow Gin's throat, right below his ear where he's particularly sensitive. He feels Gin shiver, a purr of appreciation rumbling in the former captain's throat.
Ichigo's fingers slide under Gin's shirt and tease up his back, tracing the line of his spine. “I'm not a pervert, just a man who knows what he wants.”
Gin's pleased hum vibrates against Ichigo's lips before Gin crashes their mouths together in a hungry kiss, all the appreciation that Ichigo needs.
Gin doesn't have Shinsou, but that doesn't stop him from keeping his skills fresh. The plain katana that they bought years back cleaves smoothly through the air, each movement fluid and precise, almost like a dance. Long, pale limbs, Gin's eyes closed as he breathes in and out, lost to the motions.
He's beautiful like this, a thought Ichigo keeps to himself because Gin doesn't like to be called beautiful or reminded of his good qualities. Maybe because he doesn't think they are true or that he deserves such compliments. Or perhaps such things are reminders of unhappy times in Rukongai where attractiveness was a curse and not a blessing.
So Ichigo watches, barely breathing, barely moving, heat coiling in his belly, and affection washing over him.
The katana whips through the air, a whisper of movement, as Gin finishes the last of his round and comes to a rest. He pauses, arms down, katana dangling at his side. Ichigo can only see his back, but he knows that Gin's eyes are closed as he meditates, slowly encouraging his breath to a calmer rhythm.
“I knew ya were watchin',” Gin says, his voice floating softly into the silence.
Ichigo feels his lips curl as he pushes himself off the door frame, quietly unfurling the tight hold of his reiatsu so that he no longer feels so stifled. “I can't help myself,” he replies as Gin returns the katana to it's sheath and sets it on the stand above the mantle.
Gin slants a look at him from the corner of his eye. “And ya call me the pervert.”
Yet, he doesn't protest when Ichigo slides an arm around Gin's perpetually small waist, tugging the former traitor into an embrace. Gin is damp with sweat, exertion brightening his pale cheeks with a hint of pink. Ichigo doesn't lean in for a kiss however, his lips wandering to the hollow Gin's throat, right below his ear where he's particularly sensitive. He feels Gin shiver, a purr of appreciation rumbling in the former captain's throat.
Ichigo's fingers slide under Gin's shirt and tease up his back, tracing the line of his spine. “I'm not a pervert, just a man who knows what he wants.”
Gin's pleased hum vibrates against Ichigo's lips before Gin crashes their mouths together in a hungry kiss, all the appreciation that Ichigo needs.
gypsygrrl420 Prompt: Shuuhei, “Numb,” Linkin Park
Shuuhei (and all mentioned characters) is from the anime/manga Bleach by Tite Kubo. Warnings for massive spoilers, angst, and foul language.
The war is over.
Aizen has been defeated, locked away, never to trouble them again.
Tousen is dead.
Shuuhei doesn't know why this thought bothers him so much.
Tousen is dead, but he knew this would happen. Tousen was dead long before Shuuhei and Komamura-taichou had defeated him in that final battle. The Tousen Shuuhei had known at any rate. The man who'd taught Shuuhei everything he still knew... that man had died the day Aizen and his traitors had risen into the sky in the hands of a Hollow.
Tousen is dead and Shuuhei is the one who killed him. It's not so much that he can't accept the fact, just that it continues to reverberate, echoing around and around in the back of his head.
He trains harder. He trains until the blisters on his hands pop and bleed and heal and become calluses. He studies kido, memorizes spells he'd never had chance to learn in the Academy, and spends hours casting them one after another until one by one, he perfects them. Some, he even manages to cast without the incantation.
He meditates, spending long hours with his legs curled beneath him, Kazeshini braced across his thighs, trying to communicate with the stubborn zanpakutou. He tries to understand his fears of Kazeshini; he tries to get Kazeshini to understand him. He thinks that maybe, if he tries hard enough, he'll get to touch bankai.
Maybe.
He trains with Renji, who seems to have the same driving need to work himself to the bone. There's a shadow in Renji's face, one that Shuuhei doesn't dare ask about and doesn't think Renji will ever want to share either. Renji's shadow is the same reason he trains so hard.
Renji doesn't ask Shuuhei why he's working so hard either.
There's no looming war on the horizon. There's no encroaching darkness. There's just the usual threat of daily Hollow, but Shuuhei continues to train anyway. He pushes himself, and ignores the place where Tousen died. He goes drinking with his friends and wakes up alone. He trains with his subordinates, and anxiously awaits the day they'll finally assign a new captain for the ninth.
It's time to move on. Tousen is dead and the war is over. Shuuhei trains, because if there's one thing Tousen managed to teach him, it's that he'll never know when someone will stab him in the back.
And Shuuhei hates that Tousen felt he needed to learn this lesson personally.
Aizen has been defeated, locked away, never to trouble them again.
Tousen is dead.
Shuuhei doesn't know why this thought bothers him so much.
Tousen is dead, but he knew this would happen. Tousen was dead long before Shuuhei and Komamura-taichou had defeated him in that final battle. The Tousen Shuuhei had known at any rate. The man who'd taught Shuuhei everything he still knew... that man had died the day Aizen and his traitors had risen into the sky in the hands of a Hollow.
Tousen is dead and Shuuhei is the one who killed him. It's not so much that he can't accept the fact, just that it continues to reverberate, echoing around and around in the back of his head.
He trains harder. He trains until the blisters on his hands pop and bleed and heal and become calluses. He studies kido, memorizes spells he'd never had chance to learn in the Academy, and spends hours casting them one after another until one by one, he perfects them. Some, he even manages to cast without the incantation.
He meditates, spending long hours with his legs curled beneath him, Kazeshini braced across his thighs, trying to communicate with the stubborn zanpakutou. He tries to understand his fears of Kazeshini; he tries to get Kazeshini to understand him. He thinks that maybe, if he tries hard enough, he'll get to touch bankai.
Maybe.
He trains with Renji, who seems to have the same driving need to work himself to the bone. There's a shadow in Renji's face, one that Shuuhei doesn't dare ask about and doesn't think Renji will ever want to share either. Renji's shadow is the same reason he trains so hard.
Renji doesn't ask Shuuhei why he's working so hard either.
There's no looming war on the horizon. There's no encroaching darkness. There's just the usual threat of daily Hollow, but Shuuhei continues to train anyway. He pushes himself, and ignores the place where Tousen died. He goes drinking with his friends and wakes up alone. He trains with his subordinates, and anxiously awaits the day they'll finally assign a new captain for the ninth.
It's time to move on. Tousen is dead and the war is over. Shuuhei trains, because if there's one thing Tousen managed to teach him, it's that he'll never know when someone will stab him in the back.
And Shuuhei hates that Tousen felt he needed to learn this lesson personally.
Three more pieces of flash fiction to come! Along with interesting news about a new Bleach fic that's coming out soon. *grins*
