Author: amskidoodles

Title: Hollow Dreams

Rating: T

Pairing: Hichigo/Ichigo

Warnings: swearing, minor adult themes

Summary: The dreams of hollows. One in specific, actually …

Comments: This is my first fanfiction. I would love some constructive criticisms.

If they think about it at all, the Shinigami are certain that hollows do not dream.

Ichigo's hollow knows better.

Hollows dream constantly. They dream of blood, of screaming, of terror and pain and fear. They dream of the time they had hearts, and friends, and loved ones. It might be argued that their entire existence is just a dream--just a horrible nightmare they can't find a way to wake from.

Ichigo's hollow knows this. These are all old, familiar dreams to him. He has had them all, at various times.

Usually, he dreams these things.

Sometimes, he doesn't.

Some of those dreams are still well within what might be expected of a heatless creature. For instance, he often dreams of the day (it will come soon, he is sure) when he will overthrow King and take his place. The freedom to be outside this world, with its sideways buildings, capricious weather, and the loneliness of only a single other being to speak to (not than Zangetsu spoke often, much less to a hollow, King's despised horse) was something to dream about if anything was.

But the dreams that made the hollow wake, sweaty and relaxed and feeling almost high, were always the ones involving King. He licked King, nibbled King, nipped King, bit King, fucking devoured King--all of it without ever actually harming King in the least. That was par for the course--hollows are instinct, and what could be more instinctive than sex? And of course he would dream of King--who else did he really know well enough to fantasize about?

The problem was King's reactions in the dreams. He seemed to be enjoying himself as much as his hollow.

The hollow didn't understand why he would even think King would respond like that. He wasn't used to not understanding. It made him angry. And he only had one response to anger--destroy something.

He pulled the white Zangetsu off his back and rushed at a building, screaming.


Ichigo seemed to be smirking extremely often lately.

Said smirk grew as he heard his hollow rampaging in his inner world. Who knew making out with him in his sleep would have such amusing affects?

The smirk fell off his face quickly, however. While it normally wouldn't bother him one way or the other whether his actions could be described as normal or not, this wasn't quite the same.

This was wrong.

He shouldn't be doing this.

He certainly shouldn't be enjoying it.

He sighed dragged his attention back to the teacher.