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brittscafe · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 19

Kinktober Day 19: Hate sex, Kensei Muguruma x female reader.

Being in the same division as Kensei Mugurma was already a pain in your ass, but having him as your captain, makes your life horrendous and miserable. The way he bosses you around and you can't say anything about it because he's your captain.

How you hate that man with a burning passion inside of you. Kensei isn't very fond of you either. You fight him every chance you can get, never agreeing with his plans. The way you look at him, it makes his blood boil.

There can't be a better time when the Soul Society is falling apart and being attacked by the Quincies, to hate each other even more than ever.

"Would you just shut the hell up?!" Kensei's voice roars out as he stands up, slamming his fist down on the ground. You glare up at him and scrunch your face up with anger.

"No, but I'd like to see you try and make me, captain," you growl out, leaping up onto your feet. Kensei's eyes are dark and full of rage.

"You know that my plan is the best way to move forward and take out the rest of the Quincies. Stop fighting me!" Kensei scoffs out, running his hands over his face.

"Do you really think that trying to plan something right now when they are literally killing multiple soul reapers is the right thing to do? We need to go out there and help them out, before they all are killed!" you hiss out, clenching your fists.

Kensei's eyes widen and he steps closer to you. "You really want to go out there without a plan?" his voice softens and your nod your head.

"Yeah I do. What's wrong with that?" you ask, meeting his strong gaze.

"You die."

"You never had a problem with that before. I'll see you on the other side, captain," you roll your eyes with annoyance, storming over to the door.

You grab onto the knob and open it. The door only opens a few inches before it's slammed shut. Kensei had extended his arm and pressed his hand above your shoulder, closing the door.

"Kensei," you retort harshly, letting out a deep breath. You turn around and slowly face him. He's only mere inches away from your face, you can feel his breath fanning over your skin.

Kensei is definitely still mad, but he has a look of concern washed over his face.

"Don't you dare go out there," he hisses out through gritted teeth and your stomach twists into uneasy knots.

"Or you'll what?" you ask, cocking your head to the side. Kensei steps closer to you and you gulp.

"Go on. Try me," he demands, letting his hand fall from the door and back down to his side and you nod your head.

"Watch me," you roll your eyes. You spin around and open the door, taking a step outside. Kensei's hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist.

Your heart skips a beat as you're dragged back into the room, spinning around and bumping into Kensei's chest. He slams the door shut and backs you up against a wall.

He pins you there and you squirm against his grasp. "Let me go!" you call out, tossing and turning against him. The way your hips thrash against his, hitting his soft cock.

Suddenly, the hues of Kensei's cheeks turn a slight pink and you stop moving. You furrow your eyebrows and stare at him, trying to figure out why he's flustered.

"What is it?" you ask.

"N-nothing," he clears his throat. That's when you feel it. Your captain's hard erection pressing against your thigh. Your heart rams against your chest and your jaw goes slack.

"You know, this is highly inap-" you start to speak, when Kensei roughly presses his lips against yours. The suddenness makes you moan and he presses his body against yours.

Your hands grab anywhere they can, at his shoulders, chest, and the strands of his silver hair. Kensei groans against your lips as you pull on his hair.

Your hand slips into his uniform and you feel his muscles. He chuckles against your lips and pulls away from them.

"Have you always had a thing for me?" he asks, licking his lips.

"Excuse me?! You kissed me first!" you scoff out, pushing him off of you. His hair is messy as he proceeds to undo his uniform. The captain's cape drops to the ground and the muscles on his built arms flex as he pulls off his black, sleeveless, kosode and your core throbs.

You drool over his built chest as he reaches down, undoing his black hakama.

"Whatever. You want to do this, right?" he sighs out, only dressed in his boxers. You press your lips together, admiring the hard erection that's poking out.

"I mean yeah, but is this really the time?" you scoff out, starting to undo your own uniform. Kensei's eyes widen as you toss the rest of your uniform aside, left in your bra and underwear.

"Well, seeing as how we're both almost naked, yeah," he nods his head, walking over to you.

"God, do you ever shut up?" you roll your eyes as he places his hands on your hips, tugging you closer to him. He dips his head down and presses his lips to your breasts peeking out from your bra.

His hand slides around and unclips your bra. Kensei grabs onto a strap and tugs it down your shoulder. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and runs his tongue over your flesh.

Goosebumps prick along your skin and you let out a tiny breath.

"I do, actually. You don't ever and you won't, especially when I'm balls deep inside of you," he whispers into your ear, teeth tugging on your earlobe.

You moan softly and tug on his hair. Kensei removes your bra and his eyes glisten at your breasts.

"Shut up, you probably aren't that good anyways," you sneer out as his lips capture one of your nipples. He chuckles quietly and rolls his eyes.

His free hand travels down to your underwear and he starts to rub circles against your clothed clit. You squirm against him and whimper quietly.

"Oh really? I'll make sure you'll be screaming my name," he breathes out, his eyes flickering up and meeting yours.

Kensei presses wet kisses to your breast before moving onto the other one. He closes his mouth around your nipple, smirking as your nipple grows hard in his mouth.

"We'll see about that," you growl out, pressing a hand to his chest and slightly pushing him down. You grab onto the hem of his boxers and start pulling them down.

You climb down onto your knees, watching his length spring out and slap his stomach. You take Kensei's length in your hand and start pumping into.

You squeeze the red head of his cock and he groans heavily. Your hand travels down to your underwear and you slide your fingers inside, toying around your clit.

"Does it feel good?" he hums out, cocking an eyebrow.

"Better than you could ever pleasure me," you sigh out, letting out a breathy moan. Your words make Kensei's blood boils and he grabs onto your jaw.

He forces you up onto your feet and you remove your hand from your underwear. Kensei bends you over the couch and presses his bare cock to your ass.

"Oh yeah?" he asks with a low, tempting voice. He tugs your underwear down, letting it pool around your ankles. A chill runs down your spine as you feel the cold air on your core.

"H-hey! Ow!" you yelp out, a hand smacking your ass and leaving your left cheek stinging. Kensei grabs onto his throbbing cock and rubs it against your folds, teasing you.

You hiss out and spread your legs farther apart, trying to feel more of him. You whimper again as another sting is delivered to your right ass cheek.

You open your mouth to speak when Kensei thrusts himself inside of your pussy. You cry out with pleasure and hold yourself up against the couch.

He grabs ahold of your hair and tugs your head back. The head of his cock is prodding against your sweet spot and you suppress a moan.

"I hate you," you speak through gritted teeth, turning your head towards him and Kensei chuckles in response. He pulls his hips back and snaps them, thrusting his cock back inside of you.

You moan loudly as Kensei's balls slap against your ass.

"Really? Tell me, how good I am fucking you right now?" he whispers, pinning your head into the side of the couch.

"F-fuck you," your voice is muffled by the couch as he thrusts in and out of you. Kensei's cock becomes covered in your wet arousal and he groans, watching your ass jiggle with each strong thrust.

Your arch your back feeling Kensei's cock reach deeper inside of your aching pussy. Moans and groans leave your throat.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he teases you, pounding into you from behind. Kensei's eardrums fill with the sound of your ass slapping and his cock twitches inside of you.

"K-Kensei!" you scream out, cum flooding out from your core. Your thighs shake and you slouch over the couch, not able to hold yourself up anymore.

Kensei's hand wraps around your waist and holds you steady.

"You're such a dirty slut," he curses out, delivering a slap to your ass. You moan loudly and pant heavily as he still thrusts into you. His hips meeting your ass as you clench around his cock.

"Shut up," you retort harshly, starting to move your hips back and forth on his cock, squeezing.

"Jesus, f-fuck, y/n," Kensei's voice stutters out, fucking your cum back into your throbbing pussy. With a heavy groan, he releases thick ropes of cum inside of you.

Kensei leans over your slick back and pants heavily, bringing himself down from his climax. He slowly pulls out from you, wincing quietly as his cock is still sensitive.

You flip over onto your back and lay against the couch, body exhausted.

"Here," he clears his throat, tossing you your uniform and a rag to clean yourself up with. You catch your uniform and stand up from the couch, your thighs still slightly trembling as you wipe the cum off from your sticky thighs.

"Now, can we come up with a plan so we can go beat their asses?" you ask and Kensei sighs deeply, glaring over at you.

Tags: @stygianoir @noyaistall

#kensei muguruma #kensei muguruma smut #bleach #bleach imagines #bleachanime #bleach headcanons #bleach anime #bleach x you #bleach x reader #bleach x y/n #bleachichigo #bleach x female reader #bleach smut #bleach kensei #bleach kensei x reader #smut #bleach smut kensei

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dross-the-fish · 1 year ago

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They found the elusive Phantom of the Opera curled up on pages of strewn sheet music, weeping with such pitiful heartbreak that none in the party dared to approach. “Je Meurs…” the deformed man sobbed to himself, unaware or uncaring that he had an audience. Dr. Watson shifted uncomfortably, “Either of you lads speak French?” he whispered to Quincy and Lawrence. Both shook their heads in dismay and Watson gave a resigned sigh, “I guess we’ll have to hope he speaks English.”

Before the doctor could approach the crying figure Adam Frankenstein stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I know French. Let me speak to him,” he said in a quiet rumble. Watson wrinkled his mustache. He was fond of The Creature and thought that after several months in his company he’d learned everything he needed to about him. Not the case, it seemed, for it had not even occurred to him that Adam could be a polyglot. Truthfully, Watson barely understood how a creation who had spent so much of his time in isolation knew English, much less French. Holmes would have had him figured out top to bottom by now, he thought to himself with a pang. “Fine, but please don’t scare him he seems…vulnerable,” he made a resigned gesture. The volume of the sobbing behind him intensified. “I’ll try but no promises, I daresay I am an even more frightful aberration than he,” the corner of Adam’s mouth quirked upward in a rueful smile, “Perhaps, from one living corpse to another, we may strike a kinship founded on our mutual ugliness” he mused. Watson’s frown deepened but before he could chide Adam he was cut off by a piteous cry: “Christine!” Quincey perked up, “I know that! That’s a girl’s name! You don’t think this is over a girl, do you, Larry?” Lawrence grimaced at him, “God, I hope not. After everything we went through to get down here our sentient zombie better not be dying of a broken heart.” Adam threw them both a look as if to say. Quiet! You’re distracting me. Once everyone had settled, he approached the Phantom and knelt beside him, addressing him in French. “Hello, are you hurt?” The Phantom started, as though he had been shaken from a dream. A bloodshot eye, as yellow as Adam’s own, peeked tearfully through the lattice of bony fingers covering a pallid, badly deformed, face. “What are you?” he asked, pausing his weeping long enough to be cognizant of the monstrous giant kneeling beside him. He turned away and groped behind him for a black mask that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, putting it back on while The Creature waited patiently. Adam did not answer him at first, after a thoughtful pause he offered: “Someone like you.” That seemed to be explanation enough for the wretched man for he resumed his crying “I am dying,” he said between sobs, “I am dying of love.” Adam nodded sympathetically, “Love, and the want of it, are indeed, powerful enough to die from. What happened?” “I kissed her! I kissed her alive! She let me-she let me! I have never…” he trailed off in a fresh wave of tears. Adam patted his back. “Where is she now? Has she forsaken you?” he asked. “Forsaken? No. Never! She would not…she is a good girl…she would have been my bride! My living bride! I could not keep her, not after she allowed me to kiss her. I have freed her!” the Phantom seemed to compose himself a little and he sat up, wiping his eyes on his sleeves. He seemed to notice, for the first time, Watson, Quincey and Lawrence hanging back watching him. “Who are you and why have you come here? I am in no condition to entertain guests. No guests have ever graced my lair save for the Daroga who shall, no doubt, be very cross with poor Erik, and there was Christine who has taken her little chap and fled forever…” The three Englishmen exchanged confused glances and Quincey offered an apologetic shrug. “He wants to know who you are,” Adam clarified, switching to English. Quincey nearly tripped over himself crossing the floor with his hand extended to introduce himself, “Quincey Harker, very nice to meet you! Sorry about your traps, we had to dismantle them to get down here. They were very impressive, by the way! Adam, will you tell him I’m impressed? I’ve never seen such feats of engineering before,” he babbled grasping and pumping Erik’s hand enthusiastically. Erik froze and replied, in slightly accented English, “Thank you…do not touch me,” as his mind finally began to clear he tensed, realization sinking in that there were four men, one of whom was larger than any man he’d ever seen, who had him effectively cornered and at a disadvantage. Quincey dropped Erik’s hand with a muttered apology and Watson nudged him aside, “I am Dr. John Watson. We’re supernatural investigators. You’ve noticed, surely, that the undead are rising at an alarming rate and we were hoping that, with you being the only other revenant we’ve discovered to be in full possession of his mental faculties,” he gestured at Adam, who grinned in response, “that you might be willing to come with us and lend us some aid. It is my belief that through researching cases like yourself and Mr. Frankenstein here we can derive a cure or at least a way to restore those inflicted to a sustainable quality of life.” The Phantom looked from man, to man, to creature and shook his head, “You are mistaken. Despite the rumors, for which I myself and largely responsible, I am no corpse. Although that shall undoubtedly change very soon. No, I am only Erik.” Adam’s face fell, “Are you saying that you are…alive?” he tried and failed to keep the disappointment from his voice. Erik gave a biting laugh, “I should not be! Nothing that looks like me should have been able to draw breath yet here I am, living as of yet,” he withdrew a little from Adam, who all at once seemed to him, to be much larger and more menacing than before, “Are you not?” he crept back, his long spindly legs bent at the knees in a half crouch as his hand subtly reached inside of his coat, “Are you in fact, one of the undead?” Black lips drew tight and white teeth bared as the creature’s face darkened, “I am! Whatever you’re about to try, don’t. I promise it will not work and the destruction will be your own.” Watson threw out an arm to keep Adam from advancing, “Steady there! No call for that! No one is here to harm or threaten anyone,” he threw Erik a pleading glance, “Please, we’re no danger to you! We’ve no interest in harming you or forcing you to come with us. I see we’ve made a mistake and we’ll leave you in peace. Right, Adam?” Adam looked from Watson to Erik and forced himself to relax, “Right,” he affirmed, though he did not take his eyes off of the thin, crouched man. Like a caged animal The Phantom regarded them before he followed their example and straightened, “I apologize, I am…unaccustomed to civil company, much less when it presents itself with… such a… creature,” he was blatantly staring in a way that made Adam’s hackles raise. “I hardly think that’s fair coming from you. Living or not, you’re not really much different from him, are you?” Lawrence interjected brusquely, “Let’s face facts here, you’re a monster in your own right even if you are only human.” “I suppose there is no denying that,” Erik sighed, “I suppose we should part ways. I cannot linger here and neither should you. No doubt, after they clean up the chandelier, there will be a mob gathering to come and tear this place apart and thanks to you I no longer have the protection of my traps.” “You could come with us,” Quincey offered, “Even if you are alive, we could definitely use someone with your knack for engineering back at our headquarters in London. We have rooms and we’ll give you free food and board.”

“I was going to wait for death to come and take me but perhaps it is not yet time to bring my story to a close,” Erik considered, taping his chin beneath his mask, “Could I bring a friend? If I am to leave Paris I should not like to go without a companion, though he may finally be through with me after how poorly I have treated him.”

“I don’t see why not,” replied Watson, “We have room and we need as much help as we can get.”

“It is agreed then. I know not what awaits me in London but perhaps it will be better than waiting to die here in this tomb. Allow me half an hour to collect my things and I will join you.”

#Phantom of the opera #Frankenstein #Sherlock Holmes #Lawrence Talbot #crossover au #HE'S IN #tbh I don't like the writing but it's as good as it will ever get so meh

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bluetorchsky · 4 months ago

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How do your stick ocs interact with the canon stick characters? Are they besties with anyone? Is there anyone they hate? 👀

Ohh, let me see...this is gonna get long if I do all of my OCs (especially with how much I delve into every one of them), so I'm only going to do the husbands to start. This got really long so I'm putting it under a read more.

Accordion

You would think that the big guy wouldn't really have many friends for how quiet and imposing he looks. However, the first two canon Toppat friends he made were Matilda Ivy and Jack Doogan. In my AU, they're both siblings and they were tasked with training Accordion and Violin on how to use handheld weapons. Matilda was the first one to give him a nickname, Acorn, and he's gotten to know her and her brother more. He's also made friends with Carol Cross, which is a surprise for everyone since she's 1) An Elite Toppat so she can handle herself pretty well and 2) The only people she hangs out with are the other Elites and she will only interact with the lower ranked Toppats to get something that they owe her. It's a bit of a mystery on how the two became friends, one that Carol isn't too keen on sharing cause it could ruin her image.

Now there isn't any Toppat he hates, but he does get annoyed by Kabbitz's antics of trying to square up with him and Violin, just because they became the tallest Toppats to be on the Airship (beating him by a few inches). It's absolute pettiness from Kabbitz, that's pretty much it. Another Toppat that he gets annoyed by would be Sven Svensson. In my AU, Sven Svensson is pretty much an asshole and acts like a suck-up to the Elites and higher ups, in hopes he will be promoted to being an Elite one day. When everyone was weary of Accordion and Violin during the first year of being in the clan, he stoked the fires of the clan's worry, hoping he would get noticed by the chief, which ended up backfiring and ruining two relationships he had. Even when Sven has dialed back his attitude, Accordion does get snappy with him as he does not enjoy his company at all and he will remind him of that when the time calls for it.

Violin

Like his husband, the first Toppat friends he made was Matilda Ivy and Jack Doogan. But after that, he made friends with Earrings (she made Violin and Accordion's outfits), Howie Howitzer (saved his behind on one of his first missions), Gremlin (he humored her climbing onto his back to try and surprise attack him), Herb Stokes (he listened to Herb talk about his love for geology, mostly talking about coal), and Wallace Dogwood (he actually introduced himself to the husbands, finding them an interesting addition to the enforcers). Violin is more talkative and open of the two, giving off a friendly and relaxed vibe, to make it easier for the other Toppats to approach them.

However, Violin isn't all that friendly to some Toppats. Aside from Kabbitz and Sven Svensson, he's not very fond of Clement Warrantine (an elite Toppat that sometimes mentors other Toppats including Sven; he adds fuel to the rumor mill about Violin and is usually smug about it), Quincy Tattlemuffin (always rubs it in his face that he wasn't born rich and into the clan like he was, after learning of how Violin grew up poor), and Bartolomeo (just angry that Violin has a better singing voice than him, even though Violin has complimented his voice several times; it's mostly pettiness that he gets over at some point but it takes a really long time). Another one I would add would be Mr. Macbeth, but he was just annoyed by both Violin and Accordion messing up one of his trains during a mission, even if it helped saved a lot of Toppats. He goes easy on them once he learns of Sven's treatment towards them, since Sven and Earrings (siblings in my AU) were adopted by him. He makes up for his past attitude by teaching Violin how his trains work, which he does show some interest in it after some time.

Music Husbands

The only reason I'm making a section for both Accordion and Violin is because there some Toppats who do like being around both husbands. Like Thomas Chestershire and Geoffrey Plumb. They would be the one of the higher-up pairs that welcome Accordion and Violin warmly, unlike some of the others. In my AU, they're in a queerplatonic relationship and have been by each other's side since they first met on the Airship. They became quick friends when Geoffrey was detailing his latest plan for a heist, and the husbands made some recommendations to it. Thomas challenged their ideas, not as a way to bring them down but to see if they would stick to their guns about what they were thinking. Seeing their loyalty to each other and to the clan, despite being members for just a few months, made the duo stick by their sides more after that.

The Witch is also a friend to the husbands, as she doesn't have much information on Music Magic, so they help give her information and show some of their spells so she can record them. She also enjoys their company, as she always tell them that their combined aura always calms her down. Her brother, Burt Curtis (in this AU), is also a friend to the husbands since his mom, Calypso (my OC), is friends with them, but also because they were some of the few Toppats that have stood up for him, especially from Sven (who he has had some bad history with). Although he is quite the monotonous Toppat, he finds himself smiling when the husbands visit him and has, embarrassingly, asked if he could record them singing and playing so he can fall asleep more easily. There is some history that he and The Witch have with the Music Dragons, albeit as children, but it's not too big of a deal. He only remembers how their music and singing always put them at ease, and someone from the clan who convinced him to not run away from his new adopted family.

And before I forget, the husbands also make friends with Dave Panpa, when he gets taken in as a prisoner. The Toppats don't really have much ideas to do with Dave, aside from keeping him there since he saw something he wasn't supposed to, so they delegate Accordion and Violin to stand guard at his cell so he doesn't do anything. But because of Dave's cowardice, they see no reason to be there aside from being isolated from the clan. Dave ends up asking them questions first and it ends up as a full blown conversation, with the husbands sneaking food to him as what he is delivered isn't always enough. The husbands hadn't been caught for a long time, since Burt always made sure to not mention it (and he enjoyed hearing their conversations), but when it was time for the day for Reginald to decide what to do with Dave, the husbands actually made a case for Dave to not get killed, but to offer him a spot in the clan, based on the stories he told them about once being taught espionage. While Reginald is angered that they made small talk with a potential enemy, he does end up seeing what the husbands, and some other Toppats, are talking about. He decides to keep Dave in the Brig, but not as a prisoner, until they reach their secret base where the rocket is being built. From then on, Dave is able to hang out with the husbands a bit more but only has a limited area he can explore. His passion for being a guard reignites and he starts training under the husbands to be a future Toppat guard that patrols the halls (a sub-division that Burt helps lead as part of the main Airship/Orbital Station Division).

Wait, I forgot about Reginald and RHM. Ugh, and also Sir Wilford and Randy Radman, and to an extension Terrence Suave. Okay, so, let me start with Wilford, Randy, and Terrence. Randy is unfortunately the reason why Accordion and Violin’s wedding was crashed by Government soldiers, the loss of a substantial amount of Dragons members, and the reason why Accordion’s lower arms are gone. This made Randy incredibly guilty because the Toppat Clan and the Music Dragons Clan had a strange unofficial alliance, but they would still help each other out. When the commotion was settled, Wilford visited the Music Dragons and made a contract with Frankie and Gherry, to make up for what Randy brought upon their clan. Terrence had gone with him to observe the meeting as a witness, but he desperately wanted to be there by Randy’s side and anywhere but there. The terms of the contract was to allow Oliver and Trent to join the Toppat Clan with no questions asked. The reason for this was because Frankie foresaw the tension between their clans rising, fearing that it will cause a divide between them.

Frankie was right, unfortunately. After Sir Wilford disappeared and Terrence was made leader after the “death” of Randy Radman, he became delusional and made many questionable decisions. What caused the rift was when Terrence was on a heist with some Toppats and they got into a bit of trouble. Some of the Music Dragons saw this and jumped in to help out, but Terrence saw them as actual enemies and ordered his Toppats to shoot them down. It angered the clan and there would be some small fights here and there, until the Dragons chose to move to another place. When they moved, Terrence was overthrown by Reginald and RHM, two people who were his friends that had to make a difficult decision to stop his madness.

Now, Reginald and RHM have different views of Accordion and Violin. Reginald blames the Music Dragons for causing them a lot of strife, even though most of his reasonings are based on rumors and baseless evidence, while RHM is more cautious but welcoming to Accordion and Violin. He had been there on the day Terrence ordered the attack on the Music Dragons, but he also saw how they wished to help despite what happened in the past. Their interactions with the husbands will change over time, as more information of the unofficial alliance between the Toppats and the Dragons is uncovered, with Wilford’s contract being the starting step.

I'd be happy to answer any questions and/or go over anyone else

#bluetorchsky #bluetorchsky answers #thank you for the question!#the henry stickmin collection #thsc #thsc oc #henry stickmin oc #thsc accordion #thsc violin #oliver arc #trent coil #im not gonna tag everyone else im sorry #too many at this point #im sorry this took me a while #i really did want to add everyone else #but i am doing a lot of writing and i dont want to burn out #sirry about the long paragraphs haha

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pwurrz · 4 months ago

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had a yakuquined dream about edmond finally letting his guard down and taking a much needed nap on quincy’s lap, because quincy somehow has the ability to look incredibly comfortable wherever he goes. yakumo’s curled up against quincy’s other side, never missing an opportunity to lie down with the forest guardian in the soothing sunshine as it filters through the leaves of the tree he’s chosen to prop himself up against.

quincy looks almost obnoxiously fond of the two of them, quietly but firmly shushing anyone who makes too much noise. god knows how much the two of them need to rest after working so hard.

it’s not long before quincy inevitably drifts off as well. nothing makes a person tired like seeing loved ones curled up and sleeping as soundly as can be ♡

#nu carnival #yakumo ♡#quincy ♡#edmond #quined #quincamo #yakuquined #mouser muses

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canariie · 1 year ago

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something blue

Rating: K+

Synopsis: “How are you feeling, Hinamori?” he asked.

“I’m doing well! I’m enjoying the party!” she said cheerily, but even to her ears it felt a bit forced. She sighed and took another sip, avoiding her captain’s watchful eyes.

…

Amidst the dancing and drinks, Momo doesn't realize how overwhelmed she feels on Renjii's wedding day.

Word Count: 5590 words

Setting: the RenRuki wedding during We Do KNOT Love You!

Prompt: @hitsuhina-week Celebration 2023 Day 7 - Future

Authour’s Note: Welcome to my pasta-salad of a fic! Partly because I think I tried to put so much into this, culminating in my longest fic on tumblr and usurping i just called to say's position!

This is also RenRuki adjacent, so proceed how you would with that.

Similar to that fic, this is also INCREDIBLY LATE and I apologize for that! It also has several music inspirations going from Enchanted (Taylor's Version) & Back to December (Taylor's Version) to the tone of Billie Eilish's What was I Made For & my future—and I think that shows hahahaha

I hope you all enjoy it!

—

Momo was excited for the nijikai, the less formal wedding after party, because that’s where the night truly began.

Renjii had picked Daruma Bar, a familiar haunt of his that the lieutenants had visited many times after late meetings, long work weeks and happy hour celebrations. And maybe it was the romantic in Momo, but she was delighted that they were celebrating a new chapter for her friend in a place that was cemented in such fond memories.

The Bar’s decorations were less ostentatious than the engagement party and the Kuchiki ceremonial shrine. However, it warmed Momo’s heart to see Kuchiki-taicho act so openly benevolent towards his younger sister—something unusual for the typically aloof man.

There was a room at the back of the bar off the side kitchen, dedicated for the respective parties to get ready. It had doubled as storage and a changing space for the servers, leaving it cramped with boxes and a folding screen. To call it a room was generous but the larger formal one was rightfully reserved for Rukia to get ready. Momo had joined in on the groom’s side because she was much closer to Renjii—and, because she hadn’t gotten the chance to spend time alone with him.

“How do you feel, Abarai-kun?” Momo had asked as she took the groom’s outer robe from him, carefully folding it away. The garment had been a gift from Kuchiki-taicho who had it embellished with the Sixth Division symbol. Izuru and Ikkaku had gone with the human, Kurosaki, to look for the final additions to Renjii’s next outfit for the night, leaving Momo alone to help the groom get ready.

“I don’t know…normal—but not?” the tall man shrugged. “I’m not used to all this pomp and circumstance—especially everyone looking at me.”

Momo laughed as she handed Renjii the black suit bag—a custom tailoring from the Quincy boy. “It’s your day Abarai-kun, everyone should be looking at you!”

His cheeks turned bright red, rivaling his hair. “I’ve had enough of it for a while.” Renjii moved behind the screen, and Momo turned her back around to give him further privacy as he removed the other layers. (Days spent in the Shinigami Academy had broken through any semblance of modesty when they had to quickly change between fitness courses and studies along with their overnight camps).

“How are you, Hinamori-kun?”

“Me?” Momo looked down at her hands as she played with the strings of her purse, fiddling with the knotted ends.

“No, the other girl in the room,” he scoffed loudly.

She rolled her eyes and threw a tie over her shoulder and screen, smiling in delight when she heard him yelp.

“You were pretty emotional at the engagement party—and now at the ceremony…I just wasn’t expecting you to cry so much.”

Momo smiled to herself— she had definitely cried her fair share of tears the last couple of days. But she’d shed them all again because they were happy tears. And she knows she wasn’t the only one to be overwhelmed by such a beautiful moment; for even the human girl, Orihime, had started crying so much so when Rukia walked down the aisle, the human couldn’t hold her camera straight. During the ceremony, Momo had sat with Rangiku and the other lieutenants, and was bawling as soon as she saw Renjii have his first glance at Rukia.

“I’m just so…happy for you,” Momo sniffled feeling an onslaught of tears come on. “Is that such a bad thing?” she asked as she could hear him chuckle behind the screen.

She couldn’t help it. Momo loved love and she loved that her dear friend had finally found his.

Momo remembered in the Academy, how Renjii has first come out as rough around the edges. It had been the first time she had met someone from one of the lower districts, and she didn’t quite know what to make of him—except that his eyebrows were quite strange.

But any reservations she may have initially had melted away when she saw his sincere heart and what a dedicated friend he was. From walking her back to her dorm after late night studying sessions to dropping off sweets before her advanced kido exam to sticking by her side when they were prematurely attacked by the hollow—Momo dearly wished that Renjii believed in himself like how he believed in his friends.

“How do I look?”

Momo turned around, and gasped. The taller man had left his hair loose, hanging long down his shoulders—making him look older and more debonair. And though the black formal suit was atypical garb for him, he somehow brought it all together with his usual black bandana. He looked good.

Renjii tugged at his collar, wincing in discomfort. “Is it too stuck up?”

The young girl shook her head and walked closer, taking the tie into her hands. “Abarai-kun, you are going to break a lot of hearts tonight.” She winked. “It’s a good thing you’re a married man.”

“You sound like Matsumoto—or Hisagi after a couple of drinks,” he chuckled in disbelief. “But you really think so? I don’t look out of place?” He joked casually, but Momo could detect something deeper.

“Abarai-kun,” she tightened the knot and looked up at him. “Do you feel like you don’t belong?”

He shrugged his shoulders so much that the ruby tie slipped out of her fingers. “It just feels like a lot—the ceremony, the wedding party. We knew we wanted to be together, but I didn’t expect it would become such a big event,” Renjii looked away to the side. “It’s all out of my comfort zone,” he confessed, twisting the ring on his finger.

She looked at him sympathetically. “I know you two have gone through a lot, Abarai-kun,” Momo reasoned softly, putting her hand on his arm, having him look down at her. “But I can say with absolute confidence that the two of you are the strongest and happiest when you two are together. This party—it just became something for everyone else to put their energy into having fun for one night.”

Momo smiled wholeheartedly. “And honestly I’m sure for Rukia-san, she doesn’t care for all these extravagances—she’d marry you even with paper rings.” She reached up to straighten out the wrinkles on his shoulder. “Again—I’m so happy for you.”

Renjii smiled and ruffled her hair, much to her protests. “Thanks, Hinamori-kun.” The taller man paused, like he was trying to uncover something on her face, but before Momo could ask, Ikkaku came barreling in with the human boy Kurosaki and Kira following suit.

“We found the corsage!” Ikkaku boomed, holding it up in victory.

“Byakuya had it expedited shipped from some out-there province—but wasn’t clear about which import hub it was located in,” the human boy said as he rolled his eyes.

...

Daruma Bar had transformed from the quaint backyard bar they knew into a bustling reception area. Tealights strung from the trees, hanging over a generous dance floor, already teeming with well-dressed officers. There were Kuchiki mansion staff seen around serving cocktail drinks while Hisagi was manning the DJ booth (a custom export from the human world), with an overeager Omaeda directing the spotlight.

Momo found herself ushered out onto the main floor, following the loud cheers of the groom party as the bridal party followed suit. Rukia was resplendent in a white cocktail dress, though she still wore her veil attached to the back of her head. There were tiny little strawberry flowers dotting the lining—which Rangiku had eagerly whispered into Momo’s ear during the ceremony that Orihime had personally embroidered as a gift.

It was only with the deafening cheer when the young couple satisfied the crowd with a kiss that the party truly started.

A dusk had descended on the day, with candles illuminating the tables and basking everyone in red orange hues. Momo could see many of her lieutenants around the tables, chatting and mingling, along with lower seated officers who were clinking glasses of beer together. There was a relaxed air, and she felt immediately at ease to see everyone unwind.

Hisagi had blasted the music loudly, and only for the fact that it was an official Gotei Thirteen event (and that Kyoraku-soutaicho was enjoying a round of shots himself), Momo was sure they would have violated some noise pollution ordinances. But when Renjii pulled her onto the dance floor as a line dance came on, she couldn’t help herself but laugh out loud and try to follow along.

And Momo danced. In the group dances when the crowd swarmed to the floor, she jumped from side to side. When the music slowed to heartfelt ballads, she clutched onto Nanao’s shoulders, singing with her whole heart out.

During the brief moments of respite when she was taking a break with a drink in hand, she found her eyes drifting to the human group on the side.

The war had been long over, but there was still a wide berth around the Quincy boy, Uryuu, who stood off to the side chatting with the other tall human. Momo could see Orihime run over to them, trying to liven up the conversation and eagerly pointing to her plate of food. And in between the loud beats of music, she found herself thinking how the war had left invisible scars on all of them.

The music shifted to softer, mellow music and Momo eagerly took that as a cue to head over to the chef’s table. There were several cooks who were preparing popular street food from the different districts of Rukongai, such as taiyaki, grilled corn and okonomiyaki pancakes—many of which she knew were Renjii’s favourites. There was still the presence of Kuchiki-taicho’s influence in the decoration, from the ornate ice sculptures, exquisite flower bouquets among finger sized hors d’oeuvres and a slow roasted pigling on the split.

Momo didn’t want to eat too much as she was keen to dance more without the heavy feeling of being full. So, she quickly took a bite of the taiyaki before walking over the newlywed couple who were in line with Kuchiki-taicho at the kabob stall.

Renjii gestured forward with his meat skewer, holding it by the Sixth Captain’s face. “You have to try this, Taicho! It’s an Inuzuri special!”

Rukia nodded her head eagerly, the excitement sparkling in her violent eyes. “They marinate the meat with plums to help sweeten it.”

Momo had to laugh at the look at the sixth divison’s captain’s face—the only indication of displeasure was the slight downturn of his lips. He slowly took the skewer, inspecting it on all sides before lifting it up and taking the smallest bite Momo had ever seen. He chewed slowly, maintaining contact with the eager eyes of the bride & groom, before swallowing.

“It is…appropriate,” he sufficed, before dabbing his lips with a napkin.

...

The party continued in beat again, with no clear sign of stopping. Hisagi’s position of DJ had been usurped by one of the Shiba men, eager to grab the mic and direct the audience in line dances. After the ninth lieutenant had realized what happened, it was a loud battle where the music changed pace and tempo to their scramble, confusing the audience in between switching from easy going sways and fast jigs. The fight immediately ceased and desisted when the older Shiba came on stage and hit the two men both, stopping the bickering without any question. It was only when the music slowed to a soft classical tune, did Momo decide it was time to sit out for a bit after another long stint on the dance floor.

She walked up to her captain, who was leaning casually against one of the high tables, observing the party with his eyes straying down to his phone every so often. Though he looked relaxed, Momo knew him well enough to know that he was eagerly waiting for the vizards from the Human World to join—specifically a short blond woman.

A server walked by, and Momo quickly took a drink, shooting a generous smile at the staff in thanks.

“Go easy on the drinks,” Hirako mused with a smile tugging on his lips, “We still have work tomorrow.”

Her captain had eagerly taken the opportunity to dress in human clothes, wearing a dark pinstripe suit with silver tie. Momo had never seen him before so excited to dress up and he had taken many trips to the Human World to find the right outfit.

“Taicho, the suit looks quite good on you!” she remarked, leaning against the table with a champagne glass in her hands. Now that she had stopped dancing, she didn’t quite realize how much her feet were hurting. She sighed, inhaling the dusky air that was sweet and heavy with candle smoke.

“You also look good,” her captain remarked, holding his glass up in a cheers motion. “Matsumoto had fun with the makeup?”

Momo smiled in agreement as she played with her flower hair ornament. “She did a fantastic job!”

The two lieutenants had eagerly gone through the stores looking for appropriate kimonos to wear. And even though the older woman had more stamina than Momo in that respect, she enjoyed the shopping spree; especially when she finally settled on a light pink print with white printed flowers. Rangiku had helped her dress up and made sure to spend extra time on the younger girl’s makeup and hair before getting ready herself.

When Momo finally saw the look, light pink blush and soft red lips, she couldn’t stop staring at herself which filled her with greater anticipation for tonight.

“How are you feeling, Hinamori?” he asked.

“I’m doing well! I’m enjoying the party!” she said cheerily, but even to her ears it felt a bit forced. She sighed and took another sip, avoiding her captain’s watchful eyes.

Hirako took a long swig of his drink. “You’ve been crying a lot—I know you and Abarai are close friends…” he drifted off. “But is there nothing else going on?”

Momo swished the glass around, looking down. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I am happy for Abarai-kun—I truly am.”

The Fifth captain leveled her with a long stare. “Sometimes seeing other people happy can remind us of when we’re not,” he said simply.

Momo turned sharply towards him. “Do I seem unhappy?” she asked softly.

Hirako shook his head and looked at the last of the crowd dancing. “Not to everyone–no. But I think those that care can tell when there’s something deeper.”

“Hina-chan! Hirako-taicho!”

The two Fifth Squad guards looked towards Rangiku who was walking towards them with a skip in her step, dressed in a beautiful vibrant violet kimono with peony flowers. In the low light, her blue eyes were twinkling, and the red candle flames highlighted her wavy golden hair.

Following behind slowly was the tenth division captain, dressed in a simple dark grey kimono. While others had gone for extravagance or taken the opportunity to dress up, the simplicity of his outfit made the young boy stand out in the crowd. His turquoise eyes seemed brighter, and his white hair shined amongst all the candle lights. Momo could feel her heart race up (but she blamed it on the lightheaded feeling from the drinks).

“Hinamori-chan, you dance so well,” Rangiku remarked as she plucked a champagne glass from a passing server. She shot a flirtatious smile at the server, who scrambled away flustered, their cheeks a bright red. “I don’t think I’ve seen you take a break all night.”

“I’ve been having a lot of fun,” she laughed, moving forward and almost toppling over if it hadn’t been for her captain and Rangiku who grabbed a hold of her arms. “I’ll say,” Rangiku laughed. She turned behind her, beckoning her hand forward. “Taicho, take a photo of us!”

Momo looked to the young captain who looked like he was frozen in motion, with hands slightly reached out. They fell lamely to the side. He recomposed himself and sent a glare towards his lieutenant—but complied, holding up the camera in front of him.

The lighthearted smile Momo had tried to put on all evening felt strained and she could only hope it didn’t show as the flash went off.

“The Kuchiki’s really know how to throw a party,” Rangiku observed demurely, “they should do it more often.” She flipped her long hair as she scanned the crowd. “I think they’re going to be turning off the music soon.” The older woman turned to look at Momo with a devious smile. “Hina-chan—you should dance with Taicho.”

Her heart rate immediately jumped, and she found herself frantically waving her hands in front of her. “Oh no,” Momo looked back for support but found herself being pushed forward by her captain, who was sporting a smug smile. “C’mon, it’ll be good for you,” he said with a final nudge.

A similar look was mirrored over with Rangiku who was pushing a protesting Toushiro towards the middle of the dance floor, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Taicho, hasn’t stepped on the dance floor at all tonight!” She agilely grabbed the camera out of his hands.

“Matsumoto!” Toushiro turned to yell at his vice-captain who quickly made herself scarce from the scene. He turned slowly to look at Momo as dancers passed by around them.

He cleared his throat. “Hinamori, we don’t have to do this.”

She could only mutely nod her head shortly, as she realized that this was the first time, they had spoken outside of work to each other after the recovery period.

The crowd continued to move around the two of them undeterred. Swaths of maroon, blue, purple flashed around her, but she could only look down at her feet. The music slowed down in pace, and a loud cheering occurred across the floor, with Renjii and Rukia making it onto the floor before holding onto each other like they had all the time in the world—which made Momo’s heart clench.

Momo could hear Toushiro sigh softly before she saw two feet approach her.

She turned to look up and he was too close, much too close. She forgot to breathe as she looked up and counted the flecks of sapphire in his eyes.

“Can I,” he asked softly, a sense of trepidation in his voice.

She jerked her head down and felt her heart rate quicken as he took her hands in his—which were several degrees colder than hers but grounded her in a reality that too many earlier drinks had lifted her from.

“Just humour them for one song…” he whispered.

It was an awkward start with Toushiro guiding Momo’s hand to his shoulder before moving behind to hold her shoulder blade. She had to swallow a gasp as she could feel the cold move dangerously close to the scar in her back, making her breath quicken.

And she didn’t know if it was cruel fate or not, but the music had slowed done to a pace that only in twos could one traverse. Out of the corner in her eyes, she saw her subordinates holding onto each other, with easy-going smiles as they swayed in comfort.

Momo stared straight at the side of his neck, trying to avoid all eye contact as they moved from one side to the other. She was too aware of his white hair tickling her cheek and the cool exhale of his breath on her collarbone.

This was too close too close. It was the closest they had been to each other in five years.

They had spent three years after the Quincy War dancing around the divide between them. Prior to that, Momo could only focus on her personal recovery after the Winter War as well as adjusting to her new captain. Toushiro had always seemed to be there on the periphery, flitting in and out of her consciousness.

He had apologized to her for what happened in the Fake Karakura town. She had profusely apologized in retaliation — no it wasn’t his fault, she shouldn’t have been there, she hardly remembered it, they were all foolishly tricked. (But that doesn’t stop the cold tremors she feels whenever she sees Hyourinmaru).

The young boy had stood there, silent and listening, but Momo could see the winter storm in his eyes, obscuring the shame that he had still felt whenever he got a glimpse of her scar through the Fourth Division robes. She had clutched the fabric tighter to her heart, where ice had barely missed, unable to meet his gaze. Even though she set the fissures off first, it was his sword that had swung the final blow in the demise of their crumbling relationship.

And she knows that he knows she feels that way because he had stepped aside, adamantly training in isolation to be stronger (at least according to her usual queries to Rangiku). And what could she do, except also turn around and try to move forward as a lieutenant of the Gotei 13.

For as much as she hated to admit it, they were not the same as before. Now they were just small talk and shallow inquiries about the weather, during the brief exchanges between captain and lieutenant meetings.

Momo wishes with all her heart that they could go back to who they were; where she could rush to him on the good days, a whole plate of watermelon in between them and see his eyes light up in excitement; or seek him out in the bad days when she desperately wanted to her hear his calm and rational reasoning, that soothed her like a cool breeze in the summer.

“How are you, Hinamori?”

Momo startled, looking to the right at him, but any closer and her lips would be on his neck.

“I’m good,” she responded quickly, inwardly grimacing at how high her voice sounded. “Hirako-taicho and I were excited to finish work two hours earlier so we could get ready. I had made sure we had finished all our reports for the day for approval, but it was nice to have an official announcement that work could be done earlier,” she rambled.

Toushiro raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t quite believe her.

“Isn’t Hirako supposed to be one that handed those in?”

“Hirako-taicho,” Momo corrected, “He had done it the previous time but since I was meeting Rangiku-san and Nanao-san to get ready, we thought it best that I hand in the reports since it was on the way to the First Division.”

He hummed in agreement, before it became silent again. They turned around to avoid another couple who had swept a little too close. Momo found herself looking for Rukia and Renjii to distract herself from the awkwardness. The two were glued to each other, with Rukia staring up at her husband, the adoration evident in her eyes. She stood on her toes to which Renjii responded by lifting her higher. The young woman whispered something in his ear to which the red-haired man looked at her with wide surprised eyes before spinning her around as she laughed.

The two of them were out of step with the song but perfectly attuned to each other.

Momo’s heart ached and a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

She looked down at the corner of his neck and shoulder. “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been designated to photograph duty.”

“At least you’re part of the moments?” she tried to salvage.

“Not really,” the boy scoffed.

There was an awkward turn and Momo turned too quickly, tripping over her feet and bumped her chin into his shoulder. She mumbled an apology, not before she got an inhale of his scent which sent her mind into scrambles.

Momo pulled back to face him. “Did I hurt you?”

His emerald eyes went wide. A pause. The boy took a deep breath and leveled her with an intense gaze. “You could never hurt me, Hinamori.”

She stopped moving with Toushiro following suit. Everyone continued around spinning and laughing, while the music went up in crescendo.

“That’s not true at all…” Momo said distantly, shaking her head.

A loud bang startled her into moving closer to him, and she could feel him tighten his hold on her. Loud bursts of fireworks went off above them and the sky illuminated with bright vibrant streaks of colour.

All of a sudden, Momo noticed people looking at her with hopeful smiles and knowing looks, which made her chest tighten. And the cold on her back and her hand slowly felt like a vice that she couldn’t get out quickly enough.

“I’m sorry, Hitsugaya-taicho I have to leave,” Momo sputtered out right as the final note dropped, before running off the floor. Fireworks continued to crackle as she pushed past the dancing bodies, desperate to get as far away as she could. All the excitement that had made her feel before like she was floating on a cloud disappeared, leaving her with deep intense dread inside.

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, and she was pulled off the dance floor. Momo startled as Ikkaku thrust a shot glass into her face.

“C’mon, Hinamori—it’s the last shots of the night!”

The groom’s party had gathered around, with several bottles already empty in between them all. Kira looked completely out of it, stumbling forward, and clutching onto Renjii with a dazed look in his eyes. The human boy wasn’t too far behind, his face mirroring the fruit he was named after. Ikkaku still seemed bright and alert as he poured the alcohol into her glass.

“Hinamori, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Renjii reasoned, trying to push off Kira so he could come towards her. She recognized that look of concern, it was his big brother mode when he saw she was teetering on the edge of anxiety.

Momo, determined not to make a bigger fool of herself and ruin her friend’s special day, took the shot lifted out towards her.

“To the Abarai’s!”

And she threw back the drinks, the liquid burning down her throat. The rest of the guys hollered loudly, rivaling the sound of the fireworks. And they didn’t stop there, continuing to chase one drink after the other until Momo’s head pounded like the fireworks.

In front of Daruma Bar there was a large pond and several benches for guests to sober up on. Amid the final throws of excitement, Momo had hobbled alone out of the bar before throwing up in the bushes by the water. And even through the motions, she found herself thinking—that in no way was she getting her kimono stained—and that she was grateful there was no one to witness this embarrassment.

A cool cloth appeared in the peripheral of her vision, and she was too tired to not accept it.

“How much did you eat today?” Toushiro asked sternly as he hovered over her. She startled belatedly and threw a fatigued look over her shoulder.

“Not enough,” Momo heaved. When she was finally done coughing, she collapsed on the bench in exhaustion—feeling spent and drained.

The tenth captain stood a distance, in that quiet way Momo knew he reserved for battle, figuring out his first move.

Momo wiped her forehead and her mouth, looking down at the lipstick smears on the cloth. She sniffled, feeling despondent.

The war was over. They had fought, had shed blood, had lost men—but they had won. And though it was a quiet victory, with reconstruction looming as a herculean hill to climb, they all pressed on. People were having fun, becoming stronger, moving on. This party was just one moment of many future beginnings, a dynamic turn of high energy and excitement for what was ahead— and yet, Momo still felt caught in the past somehow.

Momo knew in the deepest of her hearts, that Renjii deserved this night. She had remembered it all too well, the pain on his face when Rukia had entered the Kuchiki household, leaving him at the Academy broken-hearted. He had fought tooth and nail and truly defied the odds when no one had believed him.

But, now sitting in the aftermath of the party, Momo was hit with the sobering thought that she was pitifully jealous of Renjii. Jealous that he had a new future to look forward to with someone he cared deeply for. Momo was nowhere near where he was, hell—she wasn’t even on proper speaking terms with one of her oldest friends.

Momo sobbed, furiously rubbing her eyes with her kimono sleeves. “Do…do you think—we’ll ever be like that?”

Toushiro sighed, knowing that Momo’s tolerance how gone past reason.

“We never stopped being friends, Hinamori.”

“But we don’t talk anymore,” she wailed tearfully, feeling fresh tears come down her face. It was bothering her now how sticky her cheeks were becoming, considering the amount of time Rangiku had spent on her makeup—which made her feel even more pitiful. “Do you hate me, Hitsugaya-kun?”

He stood there uncomfortably, as if trying to find the right words. “Hinamori I never…hated you.” Toushiro let out a long exhale as he sat on the far end of the bench. “I just wanted to give you space.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t know what we are,” she bemoaned, gesturing her hands in between them. “But I do know,” Momo sniffled loudly. “we’re not the same as before.”

“No…no we’re not,” Toushiro said simply, looking at the moon’s reflection in the water. Momo could see that even though his hair seemed bright like the white light, there was a dullness in his eyes.

“I thought training would be the solution, to get stronger and let you be on your own.” He kicked a loose pebble into the pond. “But that wasn’t the only right answer.”

Toushiro turned to her, and solemnly said, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Momo hiccupped and looked up at him with teary eyes. “…You’re not mad at me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head in confusion. “Why would you blame yourself for everything?”

“Well, I started this all—this rift,” Momo drew a line in between them, tracing her finger on the stone bench. She looked up at him with doleful eyes. “I’m sorry, Shiro-chan—for all of it. I don’t think I can ever apologize enough.”

The boy looked down at the space in between them pensively. It was like she could see the gears turn in his mind, slowly and methodically, to find the next right step.

“And for every apology you give...instead of pulling away,” Toushiro shifted himself over until he was halfway over the bench, looking up at her with determination in his eyes, “I’ll move closer.”

Her brown eyes widened, before she smiled in relief, scooting closer to him, until they were side by side. Momo grabbed his hand in her’s, holding them up high in between them. “And for every time you feel like you want to pull away, I won’t let you.”

Toushiro noted objectively. “I think we’ve come to a standstill.”

She laughed as she wiped the tears off her cheeks, “That the Hitsugaya-kun I miss. You always know exactly what to say.”

They stayed in silence, listening to the last sounds of the party as it wrapped up. Finally, Toushiro pushed himself off the bench and turned to the teary girl. “Come on, let’s go home.”

At the thought of getting up, Momo immediately deflated with the pent-up fatigue from the party. “My feet are killing me,” she whimpered, quickly trying to kick off her heeled shoes. The brown-haired girl stuck out her bottom lip in contemplation.

“Can you carry me, Hitsugaya-kun?” she asked quietly, as if she were afraid to shatter the moment.

The tenth captain raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to remember this in the morning?” he asked dubiously.

Momo whined, her voice raising in pitch. “C’mon—I used to do it all the time for you when you got hurt.”

Toushiro rolled his eyes, before turning around and bending down. There was a moment of awkward fumbling as Momo eagerly climbed onto his back. She clutched her arms around his neck and leaned her cheek down next to his as he stood up.

“You’re so strong Shiro-chan…” Momo pulled back a hand to smooth the wrinkles of his kimono. “Like obviously your shoulders are a lot wider now,” she observed. “But I didn’t know you were this strong.”

Momo yelped as he shifted her with a jolt, making her knock her chin on the back of his head. “That was mean, Shiro-chan,” she said though she could feel her heart racing as he chuckled. “That’s what you get for making comments like that,” he responded dryly, though she could hear the slight smile in his voice.

The girl tightened her arms around him again, swinging her feet back and forth. “You’re a lot funnier than people take you for, Shiro-chan.”

“It’s a secret I try not to share,” he responded to which Momo laughed out loud.

She snuggled closer into his back, relishing how secure she felt as he carried her away from the bar. “Shiro-chan…we’re friends again, right?” she mumbled softly.

Toushiro scoffed, feeling her doze into his shoulder. “Yeah…we’re friends.”

Momo fell asleep with a smile on her face, feeling more at ease than she had ever been before.

—

Author's Notes: You know the stressful thing about writing about a wedding party? It's almost like you're planning it!! Is there enough ice for the drinks? IS everyone dancing? What kind of music do they need? Who's going to be the wedding crasher? What are the decorations? How can I show that Byakuya has no chill and spares no expense in anyway he can? Where's the food??? IS EVERYONE HAVING FUN??

This was one of my first times writing Renjii and of course I have to do it during his wedding day but oh well. I would really love to write more about him and Momo's friendship together, and I thought it was a perfect place for Momo to compare herself in what she has and lacks since they both came from similar relationships to their childhood friends.

I think my trend has also to leave the Hitsuhina moments until the very end and then flourish the beginning immensely with self reflections and them talking to everyone BUT each other (which results in much longer fics)

#hitsuhina week 2023 #canariie: my fics #GEEZ THIS TOOK FOREVER #i'm so ready to post this and run lolol #momo hinamori #toushiro hitsugaya #i had some stuff planned for the celebrate bleach event but wedding planning got in the way #and when i say wedding planning i mean #how does renjii celebrate a wedding that byakuya is financing #that's what made this fic take so long #renruki #it's a bit renruki like in the distance???#i hope polyna will be proud haha i def have included it after reading her more of her fics #renjii abarai #rukia kuchiki #hitsuhina

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sharky857 · 4 months ago

Note

Color me curios after your latest fic: which Drifter would go for which Hex? 👀

*AEHM!*

Momo: Would test ground with them all. Eventually she may simply vibe in the arcade room, especially after overhearing Aoi remembering Amir to hydrate for the umpteenth time + noticing that Amir is, in fact, never hydrating.

Over time she may also bring some snacks. Hydration is important, but as the ancient saying also goes: "never fight on an empty stomach". Yes, that also includes gaming. And no worries, it's NOT Pizza Byte®.

Ashmit: Would try to hang out with Quincy and do some joint target practice, although from time to time he would also feel the need to take a break from that loud, irritating music blasting on repeat from the speakers, thus moving to Arthur's place for a while.

He may also wonder how Quincy can stand all that noise all the time. Quincy might or might not confess that he's been wearing some very sophisticated and delicate tech called "ear plugs" the entire time.

Damienne: There's already a whole, smol fic.

Mauna: Not really fond of big crowds. He would probably drop by either Lettie upstairs or Eleanor.

Worun: You might catch him exchange medical bits with Lettie.

Magda: You can definitely catch her going from a Hex to another, looking to spend some... interesting time. 😏

No one would be spared from her thirst; she would gladly help Quincy relieve himself of the "surplus testosterone", be very interested to discover what else Amir could do with such "fast hands", and also give the term "mindf@ck" a whole new meaning with Eleanor. Only time will tell whether Magda may succeed or not.

Selene: Doesn't really look forward to be social. One may catch her merely chilling on a couch at Eleanor's place.

Mirko/Reda: N/A, the only way he's gonna leave Cetus is as a cold, dead body inside a cold, dead casket.

#warframe #warframe 1999 #warframe tenno #amir beckett #arthur nightingale #eleanor nightingale #quincy isaacs #aoi morohoshi #leticia garcia #Anonymous #sharky's replies

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oddeyevibes · 2 years ago

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Uryu w/ A Soul Reaper S/O

(Gender neutral)

You two met when Uryu and the others invaded the Soul Society to rescue Rukia.

You two had faced off in a grueling battle and you had found yourself interested in his abilities as a Quincy.

To you, he was like a completely different life form. Eventually, when he and Orihime was captured, you were constantly visiting him.

He hated it.

You had been constantly asking him questions about his culture as a Quincy and he told you all he knew.

He tried to pretend he wasn’t, but he was warming up to you and you could tell. Through you, he warmed up to the Soul Society more.

Ichigo was a Substitute, Rukia was on fugitive status for a bit but you were basically a normal Soul Reaper.

Of course, when a group was chosen to go to the human world after Aizen’s betrayal, you volunteered.

While he was flustered by you and your colleagues’ sudden appearance, he had offered you a place to stay, much to Ryuken’s displeasure.

Ryuken (at his big age) was a combination of being extremely rigid but also courteous. It was such whiplash and Uryu was SO embarrassed by it.

For Ryuken, on one end: you’re a Soul Reaper and while he despises Quincies, he also despises Soul Reapers. On the other end: he sees how much his son is fond of you and he wants for him to have something even somewhat normal for a life. Which meant letting him have this puppy romance. Even if, in his mind, this was doomed to fail.

Lucky for y’all, he was just being pessimistic and ended up being wrong.

Uryu taught you how to sew and gifted you a cute stuffed animal and he loved the look on your face when he gave it to you.

If you’re good at sewing, you make something for him and he’s touched. Like GENUINELY touched because he’s never had this type of affection shown to him. He keeps it.

Even if you’re not good at sewing, the sentimental value he has in your….precious monstrosity can’t be trumped. He keeps it and if someone tries to mock it (Ichigo for example because he can’t read the room), Uryu defends it. (Rukia also comes in with a chair because she knows how it feels when Ichigo mocks her hard artwork lol.)

Your official relationship with Uryu starts not too long after the arrancar attack Karakura Town but it’s not sunshine and rainbows, as much as you both wanted to be.

It was basically a long-distance relationship on steroids. You had a duty as a Soul Reaper and your duties kept you in the Soul Society.

It was heart-wrenching for Uryu because if something went down in the Soul Society, he’d hear about it late and probably hear from you even later.

You would always take every chance to come and visit him and he’d always pamper you.

You two get to a point where you don’t need a piece of paper from either world to tell you you’re married or whatever. You just both know that you’re committed to each other.

#uryu ishida x reader #bleach headcanons #gn!reader #one-shots

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douevenbleachbro · 1 year ago

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Part 1

Staying with Hikifune gave Ichigo time, and though most of it was spent stuffing his face into a stupor, some of it was also spent thinking of a certain petite shinigami that was somewhere within these walls. He could feel her reiatsu, albeit slightly, lingering in the space around him. Had she been there? Was she fully healed? Did she eat? Was she training? Was she stronger? The image of her zanpakutou’s snow white ribbon curling around her came to him mind. He remembered how he felt when he first saw it. It fit her so well. He’s sure she also wants to tap into the side of her power she had yet to reach, just like he did. She was a soldier, after all, and they were at war. There were important things that needed to get done. He needed to figure out his whole situation with Zangetsu and then there were the Quincy and their King - waiting.

Regardless, Ichigo thought of Rukia and of how much he would like to see her, speak to her, at least once before they left this place. He wasn’t sure of what was going to happen once he faced Yhwach. All he knew was that he had to win, no matter what. The fact that he could die crossed his mind a few times, a blink of a thought like lightening in the clouds. It would send shivers down his spine and made him to swallow hard. But he would arm himself with resolve, and if he didn’t have any, he would borrow from the look his friends gave him or the hope the shinigami had loaded onto his shoulders. They were all expecting him to win, so win he will, because he has to, because he needs to.

Because he wants to see her again.

“Oh, Ichigo! You haven’t touched your fifth plate! Is something wrong?” Hikifune’s downturned face materialized in front of him, snapping him of his reverie and making him jump back. The sudden movement caused the plates to rattle, which didn’t stop Renji from continuing to stuff his face. He spared a quick side-look, shrugged, then went back to scarfing down the rice. Ichigo let out a breath.

“Uh, no Hikifune-san, nothing’s wrong. The foods delicious!” He gave her two thumbs up and a lopsided grin. She gave him a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.

“I’m so glad to hear it! It’s always so nice to see strapping young men enjoying my food. I mean, I had two other young ones here before you that didn’t eat as much as you do. I should’ve known they would be more reserved. Nobles usually are,” she sighed wistfully, whipping her haori and long lilac tresses as she turned back to her kitchen. Ichigo and Renji gave each other a look.

“Wait, are you saying Captain Kuchiki was here? And you served him...all this food?” Renji asked incredulously, specks of rice falling on his chin. Hikifune turned her head, her finger tapping her chin as she thought.

“Why yes, of course. I serve everyone my delicious food when they’re out of the hot springs. And he needed a lot of food I mean, he was in pretty bad shape. The little one that was with him wasn’t in better shape but she did eat more than he did. She was particularly fond of the strawberry bunny mochi I made,” she giggled, her eyes searching Ichigo’s face. She smiled wider when he delivered. His eyes widened at the mention of the little shinigami - a light returning to his dark eyes.

“Rukia was here? Of course she liked the damn mochi. I’m surprised she ate it though. She never likes eating cute things,” Renji said as he bit into a chicken leg. Ichigo scowled, eyeing the redheaded food compactor next to him. Something about the way he so casually spoke of what Rukia liked rubbed him the wrong way. They were friends. Best friends. For many, many years, so of course he’d know. But Ichigo knew too. He also knew that strawberry was her favorite flavor and that she probably named all the damn bunny heads and probably made herself near cry at the thought of eating them.

From her spot, Hikifune giggled again. Ah to be young and dumb! There was something about Ichigo that made her feel almost maternal. Maybe that’s why she sent one of her servants to get some rooms ready for her guests and to make sure that the Captain of the 6th Squad and his vice-captain were on a different floor and on the opposite end of the Ryoka and the vice-captain of the 13th.

Rukia had never felt this good in her life. Not only was she fully healed, but her hair felt smooth and glossy, and her skin was supple and also very soft. She had renewed energy coursing through her and Shirayuki’s voice was strong and clear in her head. After finally healing and spending some time training with Renji, Rukia was taken to Hikifune’s place where she enjoyed some of the most decadent and delicious food she had ever laid eyes on. I mean, the Kuchiki manor had excellent cooks, but something about this food was more than just filling. Of course, as expected from a member of the 0 Squad, Hikifune’s food was imbued with her reiatsu which replenished them from the inside. She almost stumbled out of the dining hall, only to find that she was setup in a beautiful room with a nice little private onsen. She dipped into the warm water, sighing happily at the relaxing feeling. She didn’t stay too long though, not wanting to drown after she started to feel herself fading into sleep. Now, she sat on her bed, wrapped in the softest robe she’s ever felt, running her fingers through her hair. She stretched leisurely and fell back into the soft pillows, waiting for sleep to take her.

But it never came. Instead, her mind was filled with everything that had happened so far. Images of the Soul Society being destroyed kept popping up, then the memory of Byakuya’s reiatsu fading away. And then, Ichigo.

Giving up the idea of sleeping, Rukia sat up with a huff. She knew he was here, probably going through some very intense training. He was being prepped to take on the mantle of Hero of Soul Society. The thought made her chest squeeze. It all seemed so unfair. A part of her knew that there wasn’t anyone else that could take on Yhwach, that it would come down to him in the end. Another part of her raged against the thought, seething at the unfairness and selfishly wishing they could just go back to Karakura and wear their uniforms and go back to school. Another, much smaller but very much there part of her wished she could do the same.

A stupid thought. She was a soldier of the Soul Society and it was her duty to fight and defend it. This was her place and where she belonged and nowhere else and with no one else! With a groan, Rukia slammed back into the pillows. She took one that was next to her and shoved it over her face, trying to suffocate the intrusive thoughts out of her mind. The room was quite, the only sounds were her breathing and the very soft gurgling water of the onsen. She was alone and no one here could hear her thoughts. It was the night before they would head back into battle, so what would it matter if she let her mind wander a little? Who would it hurt if she allowed herself to daydream, or simply dream, here in the darkness of this big room so far from home. She softened her hold on the pillow, leaving it on her face. It felt nice against her flushed skin. With nothing and no one around, what would she allow herself to think about? Or whom?

Ichigo’s face materialized in her minds eye almost instantly. She snorted out loud at herself. So predictable and terrible. She shouldn’t be thinking about him. She had allowed him to get too close, to change her too much. But she’d be a fool to deny the way her heart started to beat so hard against her ribs when she thought of his dumb face and loud hair and deep, soulful eyes. So here, in the solitude of her room, she allowed herself to bring up her memories of his eyes, and smile, and face. The way he would say her name, callout to her. The way he would look at her as if there was no one else in the room. She brought up the memories of the time he lost his powers and she disappeared before him. The mournful look in his eyes confused her, but mostly it broke her. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his face and make him stop looking like that. But she couldn’t, so she left. Then she came back and gave him his powers and he gave her a different look. It burned through her like liquid fire as she held on to the sword that pierced his chest. They had that small moment together after, when Riruka and Orihime were sleeping next to them. Renji had said they were going to be leaving soon. Ichigo looked like he had a million things to say. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish out of water. Her hands were shaking a little. What was he going to say? Spit it out, idiot! Please, before I have to leave again!. He didn’t and she left, feeling so foolish. What was she expecting? Then he was in the Soul Society looking for Ginjo’s body. His reiatsu was as wild as ever, and it enveloped everything around him, her included. He was at her office door then, looking away and scratching the back of his head. Congrats, you deserve it he had said with that smirk of his. She thanked him - it’s an honor you know? He then gave her that smile of his, warm and sincere, bright and blinding. His fingers skimmed the ends of her now short hair. They stood there, suspended in time, for what seemed like forever. Not a word uttered yet so much was said. Then he was gone again because he doesn’t belong there but she does, and she has a duty to fulfill and whatever she was thinking about was foolish and wrong. But he had been staring at her lips, and she had been staring at his, and they had been so close. In the moment, everything seemed possible, doable. He was standing there in his black robes like he belonged. Maybe he could. Maybe he did.

A sharp rap on her door made Rukia jump, squeaking in surprise. Did she hear that right? Was that her door? Another small knock came and she jumped off the bed, wrapping the soft robe tighter round herself. “Hello?” she whispered at the door.

“Rukia? It’s me. Open up,” Ichigo hissed back. Rukia took a step back, suddenly nervous. She had just spent the last...lord knows how long thinking about this man and now he was there knocking on her door. “Oi, Rukia? Are you there?” He sounded worried, like maybe he mad a mistake. Without a second thought she opened the door.

“Fool, of course I’m here. What’re you doing here?” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was just wearing a robe and nothing else. Ichigo stood at her door holding a tray of what looked like tea. His face was suspiciously flushed, as were his ears and neck. He was wearing what looked like pijamas. He cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly.

“Hikifune-san gave me this tray and said she had made too much, so maybe I should offer you some. I felt your reiatsu and assumed you were awake, so...want some tea?” He asked lamely, his ears getting a lot more red. He shoved the tray at her. Rukia blinked, then sighed and moved aside to let him in. She closed the door behind him, took a quick breath to steady herself and turned back, following Ichigo into the small seating area in her room. He set the tray down and sat on the floor with his legs crossed as he placed the tea cups on the table. She sat on the other side of the table, watching him work.

#this is nothing #just my attempt to restart my brain #I had to stop there cause its late #I may finish it #IchiRuki #is this too long to be a drabble?#probably

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siribear · 5 months ago

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so anyway i haven't posted anything for this story on tumblr in like 3 years apparently?

basically whisper went to the institute and almost died.

here we go:

MacCready wipes the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

When he woke up this morning, there were the usual sounds of Sanctuary that he’s grown used to, fond of: the kids’ lessons drifting out of broken windows, farmers scraping at the land, the hum of the generators powering the lights and signs and water pumps of the neighborhood. Now, it’s the soft sniffling of mourners, a sad track playing through the ham radio connected to the Castle, and shovels scraping the dirt as he and a handful of other residents dig the old psyker’s grave.

MacCready didn’t know her all that well, but Mama Murphy helped Duncan find a toy he misplaced soon after getting here, and he hasn’t minded her since. But as he looks over the faces of the ones gathered near her grave, he counts a lot more people than he’s ever seen at a funeral before. He kinda wishes he sat and talked to her more, especially since he passed her every morning when he took Duncan to school by himself.

Speaking of - he looks up to see Duncan still tucked in next to Alice, holding tight to her hand. Lucky kid, he thinks for a moment, before looking at Alice herself. Her eyes might be on the grave at his feet - almost finished, even though he hasn’t helped for several minutes now - but her gaze is glazed over. She’s somewhere else entirely, swaying like her dress in the wind.

He picks up a shovelful of dirt before someone notices him staring. Though between the music and the crying, he doesn’t think anyone actually would.

When the grave is dug and Mama Murphy lowered into it, Marcy is the first to speak. They’ve all known each other since Quincy, MacCready learns, and things were pretty bad before they got as good as they are. Marcy didn’t trust her until Sanctuary started rebuilding, she helped Jun through the worst moments after his son died, Sturges used to think of her as his own grandma, and Preston used to go to her for advice when the Minutemen first fell apart.

And then the eyes of the present Museum Survivors turn to Alice, waiting. She looks smaller now. It’s not the denim dress, even though he’s never seen her outside of jeans and some kind of shirt (hers or Deacon’s or the one time without). It’s as if when she came back, she left some big part of her behind.

“Like everyone else here, Mama Murphy saved my life.” There’s a gasp and hush through the radio. Someone certainly didn’t expect to hear from her. “When we first met, I didn’t know who I was. So I made someone up. Someone they needed. Someone I needed to be.

“The last thing she told me was that, even though there was a decision I was struggling with at the time, whatever I chose would be the right thing. Honestly, it scared me that she knew me better than I know myself, but at least she thought the best of me.” Even he can’t help but chuckle, though he has trouble imagining her doing anything but the right thing.

“Because of that, I never thanked her enough for saving my life, and the lives of those I care deeply about. And now the only way I can do that is to keep going. To turn Sanctuary, the Minutemen, the whole Commonwealth, if I can, into a place she’d be proud of. A place people can be safe. A place where they can pass in peace, at home in their beds, surrounded by people that care about them. That’s how I’ll carry her memory with me.”

There’s a reverent silence that follows, and then more crying, and then Duncan pipes up with a heartfelt, “Me, too!” that brings some levity. Alice picks him up and balances him on her hip. Duncan waves when he can finally spot him over the crowd, and when MacCready waves back, Alice smiles. And if standing next to her as she freed him from Winlock and Barnes and the gunners, or as she risked her life for Duncan’s serum, that right there - that would have him joining with the Minutemen in a heartbeat.

That's a smile that should be on the recruitment posters.

Preston has a million and one questions for her once the funeral is over and Mama Murphy is buried. Is she okay? Is her son okay? When did she get back? Does she need anything? She lets him go on, until finally Sturges tells him to give her a chance to answer at least one of them.

“I’ll be down there soon, I promise. There’s something I need to do up here, first.” There’s a scrap of paper in the breast pocket of her dress: he’ll be there. Just wait one more day. There weren’t any jet inhalers in the room when they found her, she was told. Mama Murphy said she knew how she was going to go… so maybe it was a package deal of information. It’s a hope she carries to keep the gnawing feeling of guilt at bay.

Whisper runs a finger along the top of the ham radio. “I got that party favor you asked for, Sturges,” she says, intentionally vague.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Preston, could you get everyone together for the party? I’m thinking it’ll be a big one.”

She hears his clothing rustle sharply. “Yes, General. I’ll make sure everyone’s ready to celebrate your return. Did you need anything else, ma’am?”

“No.” She stands. “Just be prepared for any party crashers, will you? I appreciate all you do.”

Preston clears his throat. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll see you soon.”

With school canceled for the day, MacCready takes Duncan back home and Whisper is left to what she hopes is her final stake out. The violin pieces over Radio Freedom are more somber, but the message to her keeps on its loop. She has no doubt the Brotherhood listen in to their station, and if they hadn’t been listening in to her conversation with Preston and Sturges, there’s no reason to give them cause to wonder.

She flips over to Diamond City Radio with a hiss of static then straight into I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire. She hums along, foot bobbing to the tune. Anxiety tightens in her chest with every breeze that rustles the dead leaves, but whenever she turns her head, she’s still alone. Honestly. How long does it take to cross the Commonwealth these days? Whisper did it in a few days and all it cost her was a few days of sleep!

Head in her hands, she groans.

A twig snaps. Just the one. Her hand twitches toward Deliverer resting on the surface of her lookout. The sound of footsteps grows closer. Whisper stands and turns to look behind her -

- And out from the forest, finally, steps Deacon, dressed in his dirty white tee, hands tucked into the pockets of a familiar pair of distressed jeans.”Hey, partner. You wouldn’t believe the traffic getting up here. It was terrible.”

Whisper blinks. Tears prick the corner of her eyes. Her bottom lip quivers. Then she grabs her gun and aims it at him before he can get too close. His eyebrows shoot up over the frames of his sunglasses, as do his hands to the air. The pistol is shaky in her hand, even with the other braced under it to keep her steady.

“Do you have a geiger counter?”

Deacon relaxes, and she almost does. But she can’t. Not yet. “Mine is in the shop.”

The dam breaks. She tosses the pistol to the ground and runs to him, tears already streaming down her cheeks. She tucks her head against his shoulder, and he holds her to him with one hand cradling the back of her head and the other trailing gently up and down her spine. He smells like sweat and gunfire and stale cigarettes and catacomb air. He smells like home.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him say. “I’m so sorry, partner. We should have found another way. You shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“It’s my own fault.” She lifts her head to look up at him, and from her angle she can see the furrow of his brow. “I bulled over everyone else because it had to be me. I didn’t think - ” She wraps her arms around him tighter. “I had no idea what I was walking into.”

“Whisper.” He takes her by the shoulders, gently pries her off him. “What did they do to you?”

She looks over to the vault and wipes away a stray tear. “I think it’s better if I start from the beginning.”

Whisper isn’t the first one to try to get into Vault 111. Deacon knows. He’s sat up in that very same lookout that he found her and watched and waited as others attempted to break in. But no other stolen vault pip-boy or percussive maintenance could persuade the door to open. Yet when she pulls the cord out from her own pip-boy and plugs it into the door control mechanism, the machine flickers to life.

“I said that I would tell you everything when I got back,” she says, voice still a little rough.

Of all the things he thought he’d see when he got up on that hill (a trap, an Institute courser, three super mutants in a trenchcoat - ), Whisper pulling a gun on him then breaking down wasn’t one of them. He’s never seen her cry before, he realizes. Not that he’s much of a cryer himself, but for someone with as much on her shoulders as she’s had, he’s surprised she didn’t break sooner.

Whisper presses the button, and just outside, the blast doors slide open in the middle, like a great eye waking up.

“The first time I went down here,” she breaks the silence and begins walking toward the vault-tec symbol painted into the metal door. “I was dressed almost the same.” She flares the skirt of her dress. “We were supposed to go to a ceremony. Nate was going to give a speech, get a medal for his service. And then we were going to go shopping for Shaun’s Halloween costume.”

Deacon follows her onto the symbol and waits. The ground feels unsteady on his feet, and when it rumbles, he half expects for the metal to fall out from beneath them, for them to tumble down into the vault below. Instead, the ground rises up around them, until it passes over their heads, and the only light are the fluorescents built into the wall of the large elevator.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he answers, as casually as he can. He’s still processing the small bits of information he’s gotten. First: her pip-boy worked on the door. Second: first time she went down here?

“If you had a second chance at a life with Barbara, right now, would you take it?”

Now he turns to her. The elevator ride casts her face in light, then shadow, then light, but her expression is neutral. Not expectant. If he chose to lie to her now, she would understand and move on, as always.

“I’m not the same person she married anymore.”

She turns away, the corner of a smile casting a sharper shadow across her face. She’s pleased with his answer, at least.

“That’s how I felt.”

“What?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.” The elevator hits the bottom with a slight pistoning bounce. Deacon spreads his arms and feet wide to brace himself for the whole thing to come down, but Whisper grabs him calmly by the forearm. “It’s okay. We’re at the bottom.” A high mesh fence surrounds the elevator; the opening slides around to the back, and then they’re free to enter the vault.

It looks just like the entrance to vault 81, from here.

“Watch your step getting out. The floor is uneven.” Deacon toes the edge of the elevator floor and finds the lip she’s talking about. He steps over it. “It’s okay. We were all in shock when we reached the bottom, too.”

“Whisper, who’s ‘we,’ exactly?”

Still holding on to him, she leads him up the stairs, across the grated bridge, down a long, narrow hallway. Windows lining the walls peer into rooms lined with individual pieces of heavy machinery, each uniformly the same. Metal boxes, with water leaking out from underneath them.

“My neighbors and I,” she says. “We were led just down here.”

There’s no atrium to greet them at the end of the hall, no welcoming signs of life. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something isn’t right.

“Here.” He doesn’t know when she released his arm, but now she gestures at a terminal jutting from the wall. “The guest list. Nate and I were last minute additions.”

He steps up slowly. Compared to before, Whisper’s calm. Not serene, but… detached. He looks over the list; names and descriptions, male, male, female, male and infant… Nathaniel and Shaun Ward. Female: Claire Ward.

When he turns to look beside him, she isn’t there. Instead, she’s standing in front of one of the machines, one hand on the glass window. He passes by the dead bodies in the other pods as he walks down the remainder of the room. Sealed shut, the bodies aren’t even decomposing. They could be sleeping. Her neighbors.

“The one behind me was mine,” she says without looking away. “A little over two hundred years ago, I stepped into that pod. We didn’t - we didn’t know. They said it was for decontamination. We had just seen the bomb drop. The one that made the Glowing Sea? I’m sure none of us ever could have thought…. ” She takes a deep breath. He feels himself mimic her.

Then it all comes out. From start to finish; from bomb drop to Institute and back. She ends it with, “Deacon, this is my husband.” Whisper’s got good taste, he has to admit. Handsome - not even death could take that from him - and a vain part of him can’t help but notice Nate is also a ginger. “Shaun tried to tell me that they… saved him. I know we say synths are people, but that wasn’t my Nate. He was programmed to… to…

“He wanted to try again at raising a family. But I walked away.”

“That’s why you asked about Barbara.”

She wraps her arms around herself and shivers. “Yeah.” With a look to her husband’s pod, “I don’t know if Nate could look at me the same after all I’ve done. He fought in the Great War, but… I’m not the same woman he came home to afterward.”

He shrugs. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

Whisper stares. “I - thank you.” She coughs. “Can we, um, can we go? This place still makes me uncomfortable.”

Deacon steps in beside her, puts an arm around her shoulders. “I get why the catacombs bothered you so much now. Don’t look at me like that. You were more jumpy down there than you were walking through raider-infested territory.” He stops when they’re halfway back to the entrance. “You, er - didn’t want to bury him just yet?”

She pulls him back along. “When this is over. We’ve already buried one person today, anyway.” At his look, she clarifies, “Mama Murphy.”

“Sorry to hear.” He steps into the elevator, and when she sends them up, he’s hit with a wave of vertigo as the floor disappears below them. She draws his attention with a hand on his cheek.

“How many agents am I facing when we get back up there?”

“It’s just me here, partner.”

Two of her fingers walk their way up his chest. His heart skips a beat. “Really? I didn’t think they’d trust me after…” The fingers fall away.

“Well…” He lets the word trail off, high and pitchy. “You’d still be waiting for me if I hadn’t snuck out when I did.”

She hangs her head. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

The sun breaks over the top of the elevator, spreading over them like the world’s quickest - and most welcome - sunrise. He grabs her hand and swiftly leads them off the elevator before the earth decides it wants to swallow them back up.

“Did you know?”

“I know a lot of things, pal. What do you want to know about what I know?” She huffs, and there’s a grin threatening to break her frown.

“About… any of that. I saw the rail sign up on the hill. Have you just been humoring me this whole time? Letting me think I had this big secret, but everyone was in on it?”

Ah. “Not exactly.” They walk past the gate of the would-be military checkpoint. The skeletons have all gone since he’s last been up here himself. “I had PAM look into past Institute sightings, and this place came up. Figured it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out, but for the longest time it seemed like a bust.” The bustle of Sanctuary is good to see. Exactly what he’s been begging Desdemona for the Railroad to branch out into. “Once again, you found us before we could officially find you.”

She squeezes his hand.

“Allie!” Lost in her own thoughts, Whisper doesn’t see Duncan until he runs into her and wraps his arms around her thigh.”Dad took me out on patrol with him since we didn’t have school today! We didn’t go too far though, but I saw a molerat and a bloatfly and Dogmeat and I played fetch with a stick.” He takes one long, inhaling breath. “Where did you go? Who’s he?”

Duncan maneuvers around to put her squarely between him and Deacon. She pets his head as he goes shy and cautious around the newcomer. “This is Deacon. He’s a very good friend of mine. He’s a little silly sometimes, but you can trust him. I promise.”

“Mac’s kid, huh?” Deacon says, kneeling. “I can see the resemblance.” Whisper grins, feeling Duncan lose his tight grip on her just a little.

“Why do you wear those?” Duncan asks, pointing at Deacon’s sunglasses. “No one else does.”

Deacon’s voice dips low into a conspiratorial whisper. Duncan leans in close. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says, looking between her and Duncan, “but these hide my reptile eyes.”

Whisper explains what he means when Duncan gives her a confused look. At that, the little boy’s own eyes go wide. “Can I see?”

Deacon stands and props himself up by the elbow now resting on her shoulder. “Sorry, kid. Wouldn’t want to scare her.”

Duncan frowns. “But if Allie’s your friend, she wouldn’t be scared.”

A conceding nod that she feels in her shoulder. “You’re probably right. But I like having her around, so I won’t risk it. Hey, Mac.”

“Deacon.” MacCready looks between them, then down to Duncan now standing comfortably next to Deacon. “Does that mean you’re leaving now?”

Her hand that’s been idly combing through Duncan’s hair stops. “I - ”

“No!” Duncan whines. “I don’t want you to go.” He clings back to her leg. “What if you don’t come back? Like mama?”

Whisper picks him up before he can work himself up into a full blown meltdown. She walks them toward their home instead of continuing to draw attention in the middle of the road as they always seem to do. Duncan murmurs a litany of you can’t go, you can’t go into her ear in between sniffles and mucousy coughs. In return, she whispers anything she needs to, to soothe him. When she sets him down on his own bed, he only holds onto her neck tighter. MacCready sits down next to him, one hand on his back. Deacon, she hears lean against the doorframe.

“Please don’t go,” Duncan says, muffled against her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to. But I’ll come back, okay? I’ll come back, just for you.”

He pulls away, eyes big and watery. Snot runs freely down one nostril. “Do you promise?”

She holds one pinky up in front of him. “I promise. Pinky promise.” His little finger wraps around hers. “There, that means it’s real.” He wipes his nose with his sleeve.

“Are you going away tonight?”

She looks to Deacon. Originally, she wanted to, but now - Deacon yawns, long and loud, and stretches his hands up to the top of the doorframe. “Boy, am I tired. I don’t think I could head out tonight if I tried.”

She mouths thank you over Duncan’s head. “How about we all have dinner together tonight, then Deacon and I will head out in the morning.”

“Okay!”

“That means we need to get you all washed up, kid.” MacCready gathers his son in his arms, and he goes easily. “Sorry about that. He’s - kind of attached to you.”

Whisper smiles. “Well so am I.”

“Thank you again,” Whisper says once they’re back in her bedroom. Outside the closed door, Codsworth prepares dinner with a clatter of pots and pans. “How long do you think we have until Des sends a search party looking for you?”

Deacon sits cross legged on the bed. “We can spare the night, anyway. Any longer and I’d have to send a note with one of your caravans.”

“Well, good. I’d hate to leave Duncan like that. He’s a good kid.”

“And he adores you enough to rub snot all over your dress.” He gestures her closer, and puts his fingers to work undoing the buttons down the front. Slowly, he unhooks the fabric around each one, the knuckle of his forefinger leaving a trail across her bare skin.

Stepping closer between his newly splayed thighs, she says, “Speaking of, thank you for earlier, also.” She hadn’t expected to fall apart so suddenly. With all the relief at seeing him again, knowing it was really him, there was no more room for the tension welled up inside her, and it had only one place to go. “I won’t make it a habit.”

“Mi shoulder es su shoulder, sugar.” He shrugs her out of the blouse. The skirt hangs on by the belt, but he doesn’t make a move to uncinch it. Instead, he runs his hands across her stomach, up to the hem of her bra, her muscles fluttering at the touch - and then he flinches back.

She looks down at him and his hands frozen an inch away from her skin. “Deacon?” No answer. With a finger under his chin, she forces him to look at her. “What’s wrong?” Her other hand removes his sunglasses and places them on the bed. There are no reptilian eyes staring back at her, instead all she sees is blue eyes filled with -

The door to the bedroom swings open without so much as a knock. “Hey, Codsworth says dinner’s almost - Jesus - “ Whisper takes a half step away and covers herself with her arms. MacCready quickly slips back into the hall. When she looks back at Deacon, he’s already standing with his sunglasses back on. “Look, Duncan’s waiting at the table. If you two are done - ?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Is all Deacon says with notable false cheer before leaving without so much as a glance in her direction.

Whisper covers her mouth, either to hold back a sob or to stop herself from being sick, she isn’t sure yet.

“Hey,” MacCready says, stepping slightly more into the room but eyes firmly on the floor. “Everything okay?”

Whisper buttons up the dress, snot be damned. “Yeah, Mac.” She sounds normal to her ears, at least. “Everything’s fine.”

Except it isn’t. She’s seen Deacon afraid before, but never of her.

Duncan keeps dinner from being awkward. He insisted on sitting next to her, which leaves MacCready on the other side of the table and Deacon at the head beside Duncan. Conversation flows as Duncan wills it, their little conductor oblivious to how the adults do their best to avoid looking each other in the eye.

“It’s okay if you go now,” he says with the most glowing approval. “Because daddy’s going, and he can keep you safe from bad guys, like you said.”

“What?” MacCready asks when her look is questioning. “Were you just going to leave me behind?”

Yes, she thinks. Because you have this little boy to live for. “No, of course not. The more the merrier.”

He leans back. The chair bears his weight with only a small protesting squeak. “Good. I still owe ya for… you know.”

Duncan shines under the spotlight MacCready casts on him. “I’m gonna be as strong as dad one day. Then I can protect you, too.”

Whisper steeples her hands over the table, then rests her chin on them. “Is that so? You know you have to eat your greens first.” A pile of green stalks, like too tall broccoli, lays untouched on his plate. Duncan glares at it as if she just asked him to eat bloatfly.

“They’re gross, though. I don’t want to eat them.”

“Eat up, kid. You’re gonna hurt Codsworth’s feelings if you don’t.” The Mr. Handy is in sleep mode in the laundry closet, unable to dispute the claim. Duncan still pushes his plate away.

“You’re such a dad about it, Mac.” Deacon pipes up. “Watch this. Hey, little Mac.” Duncan’s favorite new nickname gets his full attention. Deacon leans over the table, and his own plate with a slightly smaller pile of vegetables, and grins. “I bet you can’t eat all yours before I eat mine.”

Turned to Deacon as he is, Whisper can’t see the kid’s reaction, but she can see his back straighten at the challenge. “Nu-uh.”

Deacon goads him further, “I bet you don’t even eat one before I finish eating.” Duncan jerks his plate back and holds his fork in a fisted death grip. He goes to stab one of the stalks, Deacon grabs his arm. “Whoa there. Rules first, right?” The little boy nods eagerly. “You have to chew and swallow each one before you eat the next. And show your dad, too, so I know you’re not cheating.”

“Okay. Allie has to make sure you’re not cheating too.”

“I’ll make sure he isn’t being sneaky. Don’t worry.” Deacon grins.

“Count us in, partner.”

She does, and at Go! Duncan tears into his vegetables with the gusto of a starving animal. He chews quickly, swallows, then makes a loud ah! sound every time he shows his dad his empty mouth. He barely looks at Deacon, eating as slowly as if his greens were the mirelurk they ate at Coastal Cottage, but when he does Deacon makes a show of chewing quickly and struggling to keep up. And Whisper can’t keep her eyes off him. Not because of the contest, even though she has to give him a Vault-boy worthy thumbs up whenever Duncan is looking, but because she’s missed this. Missed him. And in this moment she gets a glimpse of… something too intangible to put a name to, just yet.

She finds she wants to, though.

“I win!” Duncan startles her with his shout. “Look, you didn’t even finish,” he gloats.

“Nope, kid, you got me.” Deacon sighs theatrically, one hand on his stomach. “I concede my defeat. You are the better green eater.”

“What do I get?”

“Duncan,” MacCready chides, but Deacon hushes him.

“Come on, dad, it’s only fair. He won. Say, ever heard of Grognak?”

That opener gets the two of them started on a whole conversation about comics, with Duncan hanging on Deacon’s every word. Whisper and MacCready clear the table of plates and empty nuka cola bottles (the bottle caps go into MacCready’s pocket), with Whisper pausing only to take a chance to press a kiss to Deacon’s temple. Her own victory is to feel him lean into it.

At the sink, Whisper washes and MacCready dries. Whisper tunes her pip-boy to DCR. “You’re sure you want to come along? I - “ quieter now, though Duncan isn’t paying attention, “... I plan on going after the Institute. It’s going to be dangerous.”

MacCready shrugs. “You’re my boss. My… general. Is that what I’m supposed to call you? Whatever.”

“But Duncan - ”

“Isn’t safe with the Institute still around. I’m doing this for him, too. C'mon, let me do this.”

“I can see where he gets that sweet pleading look from.” She looks up at him, tall and lanky, as if a stiff breeze could knock him over. “One condition.” She raises one soapy finger. “You cut your hair. It’s getting way past regulation.”

He laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”

The departure of MacCready and his son finds Whisper leaning against the back of her couch and Deacon staring at the door as if he’s debating whether or not he wants to leave as well.

Whisper doesn’t let him. “Deacon, talk to me.”

She watches as his demeanor changes; his shoulders shift down in resignation, then up in acceptance. “What do you want to talk about?”

Her and Nate had a rule: never let the sun go down on bad feelings. “Are we good? I’m sorry I kept everything from you - from everyone, really - but I guess I thought...” She wilts like what remains of her centuries old garden.

Deacon puts a friendly hand on her shoulder. “You and me, we’re always good. If you had told me that story when we first met, I’d have laughed in your face. Probably.”

He holds himself stiffly. Keeps a healthy distance between them. “Then why did you flinch when you touched me?”

“Random muscle spasms. When you get older you’ll get them too - ”

“Deacon.” Her tone is desperate.

He runs a hand over his head and walks a contemplative little circle in front of her. “Fuck. Well, I’m dead anyway if I’m wrong.” She stops him before he can make himself dizzy. “Your… your scars are gone.”

Whisper blinks. She had put her hands on Nate and she knew. “Oh. Oh. No, they - the Institute had to stitch me back up after - ” After Glory downed her. Her blood spilling out onto the ground, her strength getting weaker, staining Deacon’s shirt red. “I’m not a synth, Deacon. I’m still - me.”

His mouth is a thin frown. “Whisper, I don’t think you realize how bad you got hurt in Bunker Hill.”

Anger rises to the surface. “So tell me. Because I sure as hell felt how bad I got hurt.”

Deacon looks at his hands as if she should see something in them. “I held your-your guts in my hands, Whisper. What I wasn’t trying to hold in was… ” He takes a shuddered breath. “... was on the ground. Or quickly on its way.”

“I was in an autodoc for three days,” she says, shrilly. Once again, Deacon flinches. “I wasn’t replaced. I can’t be - it wouldn’t make sense - ”

Once again his hands are on her shoulders, gentler now, soothing. “It’s okay. It’s okay, we’ll deal with this.”

She shrugs him off. “Listen to me. Shaun hates synths. He doesn’t even see them as human, so he wouldn’t make me one. Not when he wants me to lead the Institute. His legacy.”

“He remade your husband,” he helpfully supplies.

“For me. So I would stay.” A knot forms in her throat, the truth difficult to swallow. “Besides, if I was a synth, they would have just programmed me to love him, instead.” She’s going to cry again, she can feel it. The dam’s already broken, and now it’s all free to rush out. Her legs give out like a tree uprooted in the deluge, and she slides to the floor with a sob. “It would have been easier,” she hiccups.

She hears Deacon join her on the ground before he pulls her to him again. “I thought you were a synth the moment I saw you again,” he confesses into her hair. “I didn’t think there was any way you could have survived. I even thought about going under the knife again. Getting a new face, so I didn’t have to stare at the one that watched you die.

“Whisper, I flinched because I thought you had been replaced, and, for that moment, I didn't care.”

Didn’t care? If she was replaced, the Institute could ruin the Railroad, the Minutemen, the fragile peace they’ve cultivated across the Commonwealth. “Deacon…? What are you saying?”

He leans back, but still huddled close like they’re sharing a secret. His nose nudges the hollow of her cheekbone, and every breath breezes across the curve of her neck. “One last test.” For this, he removes his sunglasses, and the apprehension glittering in his eyes can be felt in the shaky grip he has at the nape of her neck. “Whisper, what’s my name?”

A shiver runs down her spine at the roughness of his voice. “You told me to forget in the morning,” she answers, even though she never did.

The hand at her neck reaches up to tangle in her hair, and then Deacon kisses her first.

She had asked him once why he never did before, when insecurity made her feel as if she was forcing intimacy on him despite his enthusiastic response. Plausible deniability, he told her. Lies are always more believable with a little bit of truth dashed in, and if Des pressed him about starting something with her, well, it would be the truth if he said no.

There is nothing plausibly deniable about his tongue caressing the soft palate of her mouth, or her keening whine in response. She climbs into his lap, throwing a leg over his to straddle his hips. She pulls away to breathe, and he takes the opportunity to kiss a trail from the hollow of her throat up to her jaw.

Whisper moans his name - his real name - and is rewarded with his hand hiking up her skirt to her hip. He kneads the skin there, thumb dipping under the band of her underwear. She thinks of his poor knees when he shifts. “Deacon,” she struggles out, mind a fog, and nothing registers but his hands and his mouth. “Take me to bed.”

His hand on her hip yanks her hard against him, and she feels just how excited he is at that suggestion. “Your wish is my command, sugar.”

Legs hooked behind his back, she anchors herself to him as he carries them - almost back to her bedroom. Her back hits the wall outside the door. With one hand, he locks her wrists above her head. When he kisses her again, his hips mimic the thrust of his tongue. The other hand works the buttons of her dress. The cool air is a relief against the flush spread across her body, the burning heat spreading through her veins, flame set alight every time he touches her. She rocks her hips forward. WIth a soft hiss, he releases her wrists and finally carries her to her bed.

Even when he deposits her on the mattress, they aren’t apart for long. As if even letting her go for a second pains him. If he isn’t touching her, she’ll disappear for good. She sits up to pull her dress over her head. He helps her, fingers skimming every inch of skin he exposes.

He dips his head to her breasts and licks the valley between them. Whisper arches against him, grinding down against his still too-clothed lap. God help her when he unhooks her bra and draws a nipple lightly between his teeth. She goes when he eases her back down to the mattress. He hovers over her, eyes roving, and even in the dark she can see his pupils are blown wide.

Whisper runs her hands up under his shirt to help him out of it. With a hiss of fabric, it joins her dress and bra somewhere on the floor. Her hands go to the button of his jeans before stopping, finding the the rough scars across his torso. The one just below his ribs from the mirelurk queen, the peppering of scars from gunshot and knife wounds, and a new one high up on his collarbone. He watches her as she maps them out, his chest steadily rising and falling as he catches his breath.

“Everything accounted for?” He huffs.

She hums low. She presses a kiss to the scar on his collarbone. “What happened here?”

“Bunker Hill. Ran into a Courser but your, uh, Brotherhood friend helped me out.”

Whisper shows him just how glad she is that he survived.

Their next steps are slower, more deliberate. No longer frantic, but tempered. Want still simmering beneath the surface, but no longer threatening to burn out all sense. Deacon begins again, mouth moving determinedly south. One finger hooks through the band of her underwear, and she arches again to slip them off. Still he takes his time, pressing kiss after kiss to the inside of her thighs. And just when she hopes he’ll grant her some relief, he glances at her over the planes of her stomach and grins. He rests one of her legs on his shoulder, presses another kiss to her thigh. Then one hard swipe of his tongue has her loudly moaning his name.

He’s always been good with his tongue, but now it’ll be the death of her. Sometimes, she swears she recognizes a snippet of shorthand that he writes into her until another swipe erases any semblance of thought like an eraser to a chalkboard. Once he introduces his fingers, it isn’t long until he has her seeing stars.

When she comes back down, he’s pillowed his cheek against her thigh, watching her and looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Knew I missed you for a reason,” she sighs with a grin. “Come here.”

He does, and it’s her turn to taste herself on his tongue. His jeans and briefs join the growing pile of clothes on the floor, and then she finally gets to learn the feel of him entirely against her. No longer hindered by just-get-naked-enough, Deacon fits a knee underneath hers and hikes her leg at an angle. Open beneath him, she urges him forward, and he finally thrusts home.

They moan together. Whisper’s head falls back further into the pillow, and Deacon pulls out and buries himself again. His breath is hot and heavy against her shoulder, the only sound other than flesh against flesh and encouragement moaned in the dark.

Pleasure builds quickly, welling in her core and tightening every nerve. Deacon’s hips stutter, pace uneven, fingers caressing where they’re joined in an effort to send them over together. He whines Alice in her ear and she builds her home in it. The tension snaps, and she’s falling hard, taking him with her, and together they’re tumbling limp limbed on the mattress.

The afterglow finds Whisper’s head on Deacon’s chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. It’s almost enough to lull her to sleep, mental and physical exhaustion doing its best to pull her under.

“Go to bed,” Deacon rumbles. Hypocrite, she thinks. Under the blanket, his fingers keep a lazy circle on her hip. Every fifth circle he dips down into the vee of her hips, then returns. “We have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Not that early.” He’s already half hard in her hand. “We have to say good-bye to everyone.”

“Not that early,” he agrees.

She rides him until names given and made blur together in unbroken breaths of oh, god, and please, and fuck, and they come apart again when words have no meaning and the feel of them is enough.

#series: we will all go together when we go #siri drabbles #otp: i'm in your corner

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aeste · 2 years ago

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Since we are celebrating the first anniversary of Nu:Carnival, here's to you a completely ot list of my five favorite h-scenes of the game.

I started two days after launch and in this long year I've grinded 200 rooms with the strength of a thousand suns and a lot of patience, so here's my rambling about this crappy game that makes me cry at every cliché put up like I've never seen one in my life <3

5) Quincy Forest Guardian Room 5

I know, all the SR h-scenes are a bit cringeworthy, both in length and in how they are written, and it was only by re-watching them that I actually realized how much they have improved over time.

Anyway, this one is hands down my favorite because I love how super soft Quincy is with Eiden despite how at first impression it may seem otherwise. In general all of Quincy's rooms are super wholesome, even those of Eclipse event, but here a little bit of the atmosphere, a little bit of the location, make it even more intimate.

By the way, being precisely among the first scenes, compared to all the other members you really notice the difference.

((Then excuse me but Quincy is an absurd simp for Eiden, like, he keeps going along with any of his shit without blinking from the second zero?? iconic))

4) Edmond Sweet Aroma Room 2 || Kuya Kitsune Dream Room 5

I KNOW There are supposed to be only one scene for point, but I am weak and indecisive so I put both💀

Let's start with Edmond, I'm going to put my hands up and say that all the rooms in this event have emotionally destroyed me, BUT!

This scene because a) it finally removed the Hamletic doubt we all had about Edmond whether his nipples were really inverted and not just a collective mass hallucination and b) because it is like Room 2 of White Lover (Valentine's Day event) but better. Edmond is a tsundere and so far we all know that, but this was actually the event where he embraced his bottom being and seeing him so surrendered in Eiden's arms behind some trees... Yes.

Usually room 2 of events don't say much to me made a few exceptions (COFF KUYA COFFCOFF DANTE COFFCOFF YAKUMO AT HALLOWEEN) But here I swear to you the first time I saw it I gasped so hard I had to watch it a second time instantly to make an indecent amount of screens, and flood my friends' memory with endless spam on WhatsApp.

Kuya, on the other hand, there is only one thing that makes me love this room madly namely: the moment when Eiden asks him if he can take off his glasses because he wants to look at his face, and he goes along with it by doing so🥺

It's a single gesture, but the very fact that he listened to him instead of continuing to fuck him against the wall>>>>

I really liked Kuya in this event even though he was still an unqualified asshole; but he has his own traumas about abandonment and stuff so we forgive him. By the way those glasses in his skin keep killing me, it was like the last thing I expected and I don't know if I love the fact that they look so good on him, or the endless amount of memes that resulted then LMAO

(( Also bonus because Eiden is adorable in this event and in this scene in particular <3))

3) Dante Icy Equilibrium Room 5

Dante is like my biggest ??? within this game ahahaha, I like his design a lot but at the moment I'm still not too fond of him.

BUT HERE MY GUYS Apart from the fact that I LOVE the skin of this event despite the dubious gravity with which the coat is on his shoulders; for the first time his rooms are not just endless scenes of him fight with Eiden every second to prove that he's the best like children, but I really felt a little more depth, and the fact that there was the first kiss between the two of them AAAAAH turned the whole thing around because it went to a search for even emotional intimacy if you can call it that. The whole part where Eiden drags him into the room, and he laughs as he loosens his hair, and he teases him because that's his first kiss and Dante is pretty much as inexperienced as Edmond even though he doesn't look>>>>

I was moved. It was beautiful and I'm glad that Dante is slowly overcoming this terrible wall of arrogance to mask his weaknesses!

Then, really, he is super cute in this event so easy win in my heart.

2) Kuya Afternoon Daze Room 5

Okay guys, Kuya again because this old shit attends to any form of control I have and makes me cry as if I were five years old and seeing The Lion King for the first time.

Anyway, honorable mention to the walking stick, rightly so after glasses for eyesight, the arthritis stick is also important. It cracks me up that until now he has literally been an old man watching others sweat and bust their asses to organize the tea party LMAO

Rush this room unseemly, obviously , and everything I would have expected, EVERYTHING, given even the premise of Room 2, was not what I actually read.

GUYS This room is 18 minutes of Eiden trying to make out with Kuya with all the force in the world. That is, his only goal is to stick his tongue in the old fox's mouth, and Kuya goes along with him only to push him away half-impressed/scared when he realizes he's enjoying it a little too much. Kuya be like "ehww what's that, feelings??"

Kuya completely wasted after this event, I'M WHEEZING; By the way the way he looks at Eiden is illegal, it gave me goosebumps!!! Oh, and of course after breaking out dick all last event blabla young master you can't hug me blabla NOW not only is Eiden all over him with his legs folded in the worst weave ever that not even playing tetris, but while kissing him he's holding him so close and even running his hands through his hair.

I will keep screaming until the end of time, I tell you.

1) Edmond Sweet Aroma Room 5

So. At this point no one is surprised probably ahahah but I think I will never recover from this room.

Months later it remains the high point of my experience on Nu:Carnival, and not only because Edmond's skin literally generated panic for a week as soon as they revealed the artwork, but also because it kicks off what I like to call the "kissing revolution"

Before this room, this event, there were very few onscreen kisses, maybe like two? One with Olivine and maybe one from Quincy; the rest a few scattered among various rooms of R cards like Kuya or of course Blade's treacherous smoochies. Which was consistent with the fact that IN THEORY this is a porn game, no one cares about context more than the BL. IN PRACTICE after 8 months and three rollercoaster events of excitement, the devs started to make EVERYONE kiss. Guys, there has been the hard lemon fair from August to December: Quincy, Olivine, Dante, now Kuya; resulting in a deepening of the clan member and their stories, and this gives me so much joy every time I think back on it.

ANYWAY BACK TO US.

Edmond in this Room getting his hair untied and slammed against a tree ( what can I say but YES) but most importantly letting Eiden kiss him after he practically confessed that he never did it and didn't understand the point of it because he was forced to be repressed all his life that he never desired intimacy with anyone.

And I was already in tears here, but what destroyed me were the last three minutes when Eiden and Edmond are talking and Eiden at one point takes Edmond's face in his hands, looks at him, and leaves kisses on his eyelids, cheeks, nose, and mouth. And Edmond looks at him and says nothing AND I SWEAR, I SWEAR I felt in my heart, in my bones the realization that he had in that moment. An awakening, an endless gay panic and I closed that screen with the knowledge that Edmond had just become my fave boy and that I would probably sell a kidney to pull all his banners.

Well, this endless rambling has come to an end!!! Honestly, I still have so much more to say but I will contain myself for this time; see you next year with the updated version which honestly, if I already have to reduce myself like this at the first banner it will all be a mess, I can already feel it.

Bonus: if you have the time and will, make your own list too!!! I am super curious and would love to read it <3

#sorry for the bad English lmao #is so late here and obviously is not my first language #nu carnival #nu carnival edmond #nu carnival eiden #nu carnival quincy #nu carnival kuya #nu carnival dante

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fool-errant · 1 year ago

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So I started reading #DRCL - I'd been curious about it as a Dracula fan. Also I read Sakamoto's manga about the French Revolution (which was amazing but a goddamn wild ride). So I was excited to see how batshit this was going to be. I thought I was ready. Prepared.

OH FUCK I WAS NOT. Alas this first volume is a prelude and is a lot of set dressing so I'm still not sure what's going on despite my familiarity with the "source".

For anyone curious - here's what we got so far.

The main characters are all in an academy - the time period is the same but everyone's like - early/late teenagers. Which - isn't a big issue to me - all the protags were just trying to start their adult lives in the book. Though everyone is from different places - Seward is now a japanese transfer student with an interest in psychology - and a Renfield as a...subject? pet? I have no idea whats up with that really. Quincy is still wealthy and Texan but black this time. Everyone seems to ignore his race -because he's stupid rich. So we'll see where this goes. Arthur is still Arthur. Nothing there really.

And as seems to be a thing with Japanese Gothic - we got sliding gender identities. Lucy is nb? trans? alternate personalities?

Mina is the biggest change. She seems to be more the focus of this one. Also is a scholarship student - and the first girl at the academy. She gets a lot of shit form everyone else for it. But she is hyper competent, into medicine - and is fond of suplexing her problems away. I look forward to her breaking everyone's noses 3/4s of the way through the book.

Jonathan is nowhere to be seen. I THINK he's Mina's brother - there's one piece of dialogue mentioning her brother and Transylvania so maybe he will show up later. Sakamoto wasn't too good at writing romantic relationships from what I recall of Innocent Rouge so I'm sort of okay with him not having the OTP around.

The tale starts in the middle of the book as we know it. So we start with the Demeter drifting into port and fucking up everything. (Reminds me of Gankutsuou where they skip the first chunk of Monte Cristo and just have The Count show up and you have to sort out the pieces with the characters as to what his deal is.)

Dracula is beyond walking corpse - he (they??) feel more like an elder god of chaos than a conqueror. Also we have a more plant based body horror on the Demeter. Which isn't completely bugfuck but a surprise. So we'll see how this goes but -so far I'm not sure if I recommend it to people who are Dracula fans. It's definitely A RIDE.

#dracula #manga #drcl midnight children

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acrosstimeandspace · 2 years ago

Text

Tease

Shinji enjoys teasing Nikola at every turn he can, from riling him up to flustering the Fullbringer, he loves to see those cute reactions. But what will happen when Nikola has enough?

Shinji smiled as he stretched back, exiting the Senkaimon with excitement. It was a rare treat for the newly reinstated Captain to get any days off, especially after the war with the Quincies. People in his Squad needed help, and he wasn’t one to back away from his duties (usually, but some of the paperwork Captains were expected to deal with was just ridiculous). So now that things were slowing down just a few years after, he took advantage of his PTO, and took the next few days off with permission to visit the World of the Living.

He already had a destination in mind, as his feet hit the ground in front of Urahara’s Shop, and he waltzed right in to get himself his Gigai. Urahara laughed at the Visored’s eagerness as he nearly ran — but he didn’t, mind you — to a particular office building where he knew his favorite Fullbringer worked.

He checked himself over in the windows as he passed by, smirking at his appearance. Of course, he looked good, his slacks nicely pressed and button-up free of wrinkles. But it was always important to make sure, especially since he was picking Nikola up for a little night out.

Shinji’s timing was impeccable, of course. He reached the human’s office building just as Nikola was exiting, adjusting his glasses as his green eyes landed on Shinji’s figure. His eyebrows rose in shock as he pointed to the Visored, who offered his arm out to him in response.

“Hirako, don’t you have your own work to attend to?”

“Are you claiming that I’ve left poor Hinamori all alone with my workload?” He gasped in offense. “Well, for your information, I’ve taken the next few days off to take my time in the World of the Living. And I was so happy to spend that with you. So come on, grab my arm. I plan on finally taking you to that bar I was talking about.”

Shinji finished his sentence with a playful wink. Nikola looked at him with one eyebrow raised, his hands crossed in front of him as he shifted in his spot.

“I’m serious.” Shinji responded, moving his arm closer to Nikola for him to take.

The shorter one sighed, shaking his head as he rested his hand in the crook of Shinji’s elbow, as asked. Shinji, on the other hand, grinned as he escorted Nikola away to their destination.

“So how have things been, shortstack?” Shinji asked. “It’s been awhile since I’ve last seen you. Been up to anything.”

Nikola sent a glare up to Shinji for his short comment, rolling his eyes at Shinji's shit eating grin. “Things have been well. It’s been quiet, compared to how things usually are. I’m happy I’ve been able to stay in Karakura.”

“Really? Growing fond of small town life?”

“And the people.”

Shinji’s lip twitched for a moment, before he grinned coyly at Nikola. “Falling for someone, hmm?”

He enjoyed watching the flush rush to Nikola’s face, the pretty red decorating his cheeks oh so nicely. His brows furrowed as he tried to form a sentence, and as Shinji enjoyed the reaction he was hoping for.

“I, well.” Nikola stuttered out. “I’d rather not say!”

“Oooh, is it someone I know?”

He glared up at him, lips moving into a pout. “And is that your business?”

“What? You don’t wanna share the good news with a friend?”

“I just don’t want to talk about it…”

Shinji watched as Nikola shifted away as the two approached the bar, holding the door open for the Visored before heading in after him.

The two ordered their drinks and sat down at a small booth next to the windows, across from each other.

Nikola stared out the window, fingers messing around with the sleeves of his cardigan. Shinji tilted his head as he observed his friend.

“Did my question really stir you up that badly, Niko?”

The Fullbringer glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “I’m fine. It’s just a complicated situation. Can we just drop it?”

“Sure, sure, sweetheart.”

Nikola shifted, facing Shinji now with his arms crossed on the table. “How have things been for you and the Gotei 13?”

“Ugh. I just barely got a breather. But things are looking up, finally running normally.”

Their drinks were placed in front of them by a waitress as Shinji finished his sentence. They gave their thanks as they continued to chat.

“You miss the World of the Living?”

“A little. There’s something about the environment here that can’t be replicated.” He smiled at Nikola as he held up his glass to him.

Nikola rolled his eyes, “Really? Is it the jazz music?”

“Hmm. Not just that, my dear.”

He watched his friend’s face light up in a blush again, his fingertips pausing the tracing of his glass as he stared up at Shinji. He huffed, glancing away. “Really, now.”

He laughed, “What can I say, you always draw me back.”

With that, Shinji reached across the table, grabbing the hand Nikola had on his glass to bring it up to his lips and press a kiss on the back of it. The Fullbringer stiffened up in response, hand flexing in his as his pink blush turned scarlet. With a sudden movement, Nikola snatched his hand away.

“Woah! What’s up with you?”

Before Nikola could respond earnestly, his stomach growled loudly. He looked away, before mumbling, “Please ignore that.”

“Ah, you’re what the humans call “hangry!” Hang on a moment, I’ll grab us a bite.”

Before Nikola could correct the Vizored, he’d already rushed off to the counter to order them both a meal. He could only watch as Shinji casually leaned on the counter and chatted with the bartender.

A familiar pit stirred in Nikola’s stomach as his brows drew together. Just what was Shinji’s angle? His plan in doing this? Why flirt with him? Was it even real, or just Shinji’s personality to say things that most would see as flirtations? Or was Nikola’s own crush getting in the way of friendly gestures?

He sighed as he turned back to the window, his fingers still circling the rim of his glass, contemplating this conundrum.

It wasn’t long before Shinji placed the plate of bar food in front of Nikola, this time reaching for the hand the Fullbringer had resting on the table to grab. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of Nikola’s hand, a hum in his throat.

“Gotcha food.” He beamed.

“Ah, thank you, Shinji.” Nikola’s voice was quiet, like the smooth jazz playing over the bar’s speakers.

He grabbed a meatball with one of the forks on the plate, popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum. Garlicky, cheesy, bar food was a good way to straighten out his muddled thoughts.

Shinji on the other hand seemed to look proud of himself as he smiled at Nikola. “Feel better.”

He expected to see those green eyes glare at him, but instead he was met with a meatball at the end of a fork.

“You should eat too, you know.” Nikola voiced. “It’s good food.”

Shinji was grateful for the dim lighting of the bar to cover the pink that rose to his own cheeks as he took the meatball from Nikola’s fork. After he had swallowed it, he voiced a thought. “Didn’t know you were one for indirect kisses.”

“H-huh?”

“Getting to eat from your fork, that’s an indirect kiss.”

“Do people still count those things?”

“Wha— and here I thought you were a romantic.”

Luckily again for him, the bar’s lighting did not hide the pretty red on Nikola’s cheeks as he waved his fork around while trying to defend himself. Something about just caring for Shinji and making sure he ate, sweet sentiments that made him float in joy.

“Just, just eat your own food! You’re so, so flirty!” was the exclamation he landed on as he stabbed a piece of pasta.

“I am usually pretty flirty! I just enjoy playing around with you,” Shinji says as he stares at Nikola. “It makes people feel special, don’t you think? To feel loved like that. And you’re very special to me, you know.”

Nikola only bristled more, mumbling something about Shinji being too flirty, but left things at that.

The rest of the time at the bar went smoothly for Shinji as he peppered in a few sweet words and gushy pet names here and there to watch Nikola blush and squirm. Once the meal had been finished and the tab generously paid for by Shinji, the duo went off arm in arm, this time to Nikola’s apartment.

The black haired man leaned into Shinji as they walked, his arms wrapped around Shinji’s. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was too intimate an act to do with a friend. It had to be, but Shinji only seemed to take pleasure in pushing Nikola’s buttons.

“Mind if I stay the night, sweetie?” Shinji asked as they reached Nikola’s front door.

“Why? Urahara can’t stand you anymore?”

“Rude. If you must know, it’s because I like spending my free time with you, honey.”

With that Shinji leaned one forearm against Nikola’s door, slightly trapping him against himself. Shinji beamed as the Fullbringer bristled, blushed face and big eyes looking up at him.

After a beat, his brows furrowed as he pushed against Shinji’s chest gently. “Just. Just stop this. I can’t take it anymore, Hirako.”

“Huh?”

“This!” Nikola exclaimed, gesturing at Shinji’s arm, the situation the two were in. “I’m done! I-I don’t want my feelings to be played with anymore. You always say things like that, just stop!”

“Hey hey, slow down there,” Shinji moved to place his hands on Nikola’s shoulder’s only to have them batted away, “What don’t you like about this?”

He sniffled, tears now escaping as his feelings overwhelmed him. “You always say such sweet things, call me all these mushy pet names, just to watch me squirm. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when I…I’m in love with you.”

“Oh.” Shinji stared down at him, his eyes wide as he processed his friend’s words. “Oh.”

“So please just—“

Shinji cut Nikola off by lifting his chin up, his thumb on Nikola’s bottom lip. Nikola stared up at Shinji, eyes wide and face heating up.

“You remember earlier I said you’re special to me?”

“Y-yes.”

“I meant it. But you’re pretty dense, considering that I’ve only been flirting with you for these past few years, I thought it was obvious that I’m in love with you too.”

“Oh, oh!” It was Nikola’s turn to gasp, his voice full of joy as he reached up to pull Shinji closer to him,. “I love you, you Shinji Hirako.”

Shinji rested his forehead on Nikola’s as he used his other arm to pull them closer together, “I love you too, Nikola Crocetti.”

Shinji moved his hand that was holding Nikola’s chin to cup his cheek, wiping away the falling tears as he stared into his eyes. Nikola’s fingers brushed through Shinji’s blonde hair, tucking it behind his ear and then cupping Shinji’s cheek in return as he glanced down at his lips.

“May I?”

Shinji chuckles, “Of course, you may. You may also hold my hand, hug me, or do just about anything else your heart desires. Anything for my special person.”

Nikola chuckled as he closed the distance, placing a sweet kiss on Shinji’s lips, who happily kissed back, slowly savoring the first of many.

When they broke apart, Shinji kept his lips close against his boyfriend’s as he spoke, “So can I stay the night, lovely? So I can be in your arms?”

Nikola laughed against his lips, “Of course, my sweetheart.”

#self ship #self ship writing #self insert #self shipping #turn my world upside down

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