#many such cases. normally i can tell by touch if it's a gross fiber but sometimes it sneaks up on me

[mothbaaalls]

if i don't stop seeing great-looking clothes at the store and then checking the fiber content label and finding 100% poly or 60/40 poly/cotton i'm literally gonna start biting

[babbushka]

Anniversary (Just A Job Epilogue)

Hello everyone! Some of you may be familiar with a fic I wrote a while back called Just A Job, which was a Flip Zimmerman x Jewish!reader fic that took place during the time of Blackkklansman. 

To celebrate the one year anniversary of the film, I thought I might write a short epilogue for the fic, to see how our favorite couple has been doing! I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 5k

Warnings: NSFW content, mentions of pregnancy (pregnant sex), mentions of war, potential PTSD, minor angst, mostly fluff :^)

                                            --------------------------------------

It had been a year.

One year since the Big Case, as everyone called it. One year since the most dangerous fucking case Flip Zimmerman had ever taken on.

Sometimes, he still can’t believe that it went as well as it did.

Sometimes, he’s not so sure it did.

You were asleep, lying next to him in your bed. Your eyelashes brushed against your cheek as you breathed gently, softly snoring from where your nose was pressed into your pillow. God you looked so peaceful, lost in what Flip hoped were good dreams.

Flip watched you, breathed in time with the rise and fall of your chest. Outside the world turned around you, the gentle engine of cars could be heard on the main road just outside your neighborhood, next door the Johnson’s dog barked in the front lawn, chasing the sprinklers. Flip heard bird chirps and airplanes and kids laughing on their way to school, but in your bedroom there was only you, and the rise and fall of your chest.

It was a shame to wake you, he knew that, but he needed to make sure you were real, needed to make sure nothing had happened to you. He had grown so protective, over the course of the year. Not that he hadn’t always been protective, because he had, oh he had. But now it was more acute, he was more aware of all the dangers.

Sometimes he thought of the look on your face that day at the station, dirt staining your sweater as you sobbed and sobbed.

The thought made his stomach sink.

He shuffled closer to you under the covers, watched as the sunlight caught the little floating specs of dust and fibers that his movement kicked up into the air. He lowered his face to yours, softly, ever so softly, nuzzled his nose against yours.

You smiled, shut eyes crinkling at the corners as he pressed sweet kisses to your lips, to your cheek, your eyelids. You reached for him blindly, hand searching the covers. He liked that you did that, even in that state of not quite awake, you reached for him. Flip gently held your palm, brought it up to his cheek.

You cupped his cheek, pulled him down by the ear so that you could kiss him properly.

He smiled against your lips, parted your mouth with his tongue, lazily made out with you until you were all the way awake, eyes blinking open properly.

“’Morning.” You hummed as he rolled over you, propped himself up on his elbows as he kissed down your neck and shoulders, across your chest.

“Morning.” He replied, sighing into your skin as he tugged down the covers to expose your breasts.

He gave them each kisses, rubbed his face in-between them, pressed his face against you and breathed you in. Your hands roamed around his back, soothing circles and gentle caresses. One of your hands wandered into his hair, scritched at his scalp in the way that always made him melt.

“You doin’ okay?” You whispered, and Flip sighed, knowing what you meant.

He’d been having trouble sleeping lately, with the anniversary of the case coming up. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night completely covered in sweat, freezing cold and shaking with all the covers thrown off. Other times he couldn’t fall asleep at all, no matter how many hot cups of milk or cocoa or tea you would make him.

You stayed up with him those times, and he hated to see it wear you down too. He’d tried telling you to just ignore him and get the sleep you needed, but there was no way you’d hear it.

“It’s Saturday,” Flip sighed. “Can you believe it? A whole year on Saturday.”

“I believe it.” You nodded, “Have you talked to Ron? Is he going through it too?”

Flip helped you maneuver onto your side. He had read in one of the books that laying on your back wasn’t good once you were far enough along, so he went out and bought more pillows than was probably necessary to help prop you whichever way was most comfortable.

Flip helped you settle, and then he settled in against you, a big warm hand smoothing over your stomach.

“We talk at the bar, I think it’s affecting him. It’d be strange if it didn’t.” Flip said quietly, “All that hard fucking work, and for none of it to go public.”

“Maybe you can try again, now that some time has passed?” You asked with a hopeful smile.

Flip sighed, nodded. He scrubbed a hand down his face and sucked his teeth. It was something he’d wanted to do for a long time, these past four months especially. It wasn’t enough to have gotten the scum off the streets, it wasn’t enough for him to get a big raise and a medal from the city and all the other shit.

“The people deserve to know what goes on in their town.” Flip said, frowning just a little, determined.

You smiled, rubbed your finger in-between his eyebrows to get rid of the frown lines there. He let a little huff of a laugh out when you did that, like he always did, thought it was sweet the way you wiped away his worries.

“Anything I can do to help sweeten the chief up?” You asked, making him smile and shake his head.

“No, you’re sweet enough as it is.” Flip kissed you, gathered you up in his arms as best as he could and kissed you some more, “And I don’t want to share.”

Flip breathed into your kisses, let all the tension slip away from his shoulders. You were fine, you were there, in his arms safe and sound. If he had his way, you’d never leave this bed. He’d never leave it either, but work was a bitch and most days he had to deal with it.

Not today though, much to both of your relief.

“Are you going in today?” You asked, stretching and sighing as you popped and cracked your joints.

“Is it Wednesday?” Flip asked in return, unsure of anything. The lack of sleep was getting to him, he was starting to lose track of what day it was. Luckily it was still early enough in the day that if he did need to go in, there would be time for a quick shower and a speedy drive to the station.

“Yes sir.” You said with a big smile, canceling all of those plans.

“Then no, I’m not going in today.” Flip responded, dragging the covers over his head dramatically and making you laugh.

You ducked under the covers with him too, and even under the sheets you looked like an angel. White cotton framing your beautiful face, he swooped in to kiss you, had to kiss you right then and there or else he might just die.

“Good, because I don’t think I’d let you go even if you did.” You grinned against his lips, holding him close. Your hands were so hot and sweaty on his back, but he found it endearing. He reached for one and pressed little kisses along the palm and fingertips.

“Can we do something fun today? Something out of the house? I swear sometimes I feel so fuckin’ old.” Flip groaned, trying his damnest to get as close to you as possible.

“You’re thirty-six, that’s not old.” You rolled your eyes, making him groan.

He felt like he had aged another ten years over the course of that fucking case.

Just last week he swore he saw a silver hair or two peeking at his temple. You had instructed him not to pluck them, because you loved them, but he wasn’t so sure. It just made him feel tired. He’d been working so hard, ever since you started showing especially. For some reason it didn’t feel real to him, until then.

You’d both been trying for so long, months and months, and now he could see the result of all that, could feel it.  

“How are you feeling?” He asked, carefully rubbing soothing circles on your stomach.

“Not so nauseous anymore, I think it’s slowly subsiding.” You hummed at the touch, eyes closing just from the peacefulness of it.

“Good.” Flip had been so worried, had read in all the books that morning sickness was normal, but was still so worried. He hated seeing you bent over the toilet, hated the way you cried as he held your hair and kissed the spot in between your shoulder-blades.

“Speaking of which, bathroom?” You asked, your body catching up with your mind.

Flip helped you sit up and the two of you walked to the bathroom, going through your morning routines.

With bladders emptied and teeth brushed, you retreated back to bed just for a little while longer. It was barely seven o’clock in the morning, Flip didn’t want you doing anything more than you absolutely had to, and right now, all you had to do was be beautiful.

Because you were, with that glow everyone had mentioned. You were glowing all the time now, radiant. You were always radiant, but now Flip had an excuse to tell you even more than usual.

He took such pride whenever someone complimented you at the station, how healthy your hair looked, the flush on your cheeks. Flip was proud to have him on your arm. He especially loved buying you new clothes to better fit your changing body.

You weren’t so big yet, only four months along, but he had gone out and gotten you so many dresses that you had absolutely fawned over; pretty florals and ginghams and plaids that had the most breathable draping so you wouldn’t overheat in the hot summer weather. He wanted nothing but the best for you.

“You’re so beautiful.” Flip sighed, tucking his head against your shoulder, shoving his face into your neck.  

“It’s good you think that because I feel so gross.” You groaned, making him pull back, looking scandalized.

“No one said pregnancy was easy, or clean.” He said simply, kissing your cheek over and over again “You’re gorgeous, radiant, glowing – !”

You laughed when his goatee tickled you, and the two of you wrestled very minorly in bed, trying to get a hold of the other’s face for kisses.

“I think doing something fun sounds like a great idea, I love being home but I’m starting to feel cooped up. Besides, it’s such a lovely day.” You held his hand under the covers, and Flip nodded.

“What would you like to do?” He asked, and you laughed.

“I don’t know, all our attraction spots are hiking.” You chuckled, probably imagining trying to climb a mountain in your current state.

Maybe a month or so earlier, Flip might’ve entertained the idea, but not now.

“Yeah I’m not letting you hike.” He shook his head with a smile, humming in thought. “Maybe we could go to the park for the day? Get you some sunshine and have a picnic, then go out to dinner and watch a movie?”

He’d been taking you out to eat more and more frequently. It just wasn’t fair or right to have you cook dinner, and god knows Flip tried his best but none of his ever worked out. Even with you sitting right next to him telling him what to do, he still managed to burn or undercook or over-salt or underseason everything. Most days you insisted, and made something light, but a couple times a week Flip would insist on just treating you to an evening off, where someone else was in charge of doing the dishes.

“That sounds like just what the doctor ordered.” You smiled like you were up to something devious, a glint in your eye that Flip recognized as only one thing, “But first…”

You pressed him flat onto the mattress, swinging a leg over his hips and straddling him.

“Oh?” He swallowed, grinned, hands immediately coming up to grasp your tits, massage them in his hands.

If his cock wasn’t rock hard yet, it was then.

“Please? I’m so hot for you honey.” You bit your lip, leaned over as much as you could and kissed his chest, sucked marks onto his neck.

“Fuck I like you like this,” Flip groaned, lifting your hips to line his cock up and slide into you making you let out the most satisfying moan he’d ever heard. “You’re so beautiful – oh fuck.”

Your sex drive had been out the fucking roof lately. Sometimes Flip felt like he was going to die a happy man, that your cunt would actually be the end of him. You’d always loved sex, but now it was crazy, the smallest thing could set you off, get you wet for him. You blamed it on the hormones, and Flip certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“Good, you better like this, because I’m going to want more kids.” You laughed, a laugh that broke off into a sharp gasp as you started moving your hips, riding Flip with a vigor he was thrilled to meet.

“I’ll give them to you, get you knocked up as much as you want – we’re gonna have such a big fucking family.” Flip nodded, licked his lips and grabbed your waist, fucked up into you.

Your mouth had dropped open and your chest was practically fucking heaving, your pussy so hot and wet for him, like velvet wrapped around his cock as he rocked his hips into you.

Like everything else, he had been so nervous when you wanted to have sex, was terrified it would hurt the baby. You laughed and told him that just because he had a big cock, didn’t mean it was going to do any damage. It only took a couple days of convincing before Flip was fucking you all over the damn house, making you come again and again on just about every piece of furniture you owned.

“Oh shit!” Your eyes flew open suddenly and one of your hands smacked against your back.

Flip stopped immediately, pulled out of you and laid you back down.

“Wait, here – ” Flip said, mind going into overdrive. You’d been having cramps a little more frequently, not yet used to the weight of the baby. Flip helped you get on your side, supported by all those fucking pillows, and sidled up behind you, sliding his cock back in. “Better?”

“Oh, Flip – yes!” You gasped, looking over your shoulder to kiss him as he thrust into you on your side.

Trying to find the right positions had been tricky in the beginning, but you both had a pretty good handle on things now.

You were crying from pleasure, which was Flip’s absolute favorite fucking thing, the way you chanted his name over and over as he fucked your hot cunt and pinched at your nipples – which proved to be a bad idea.

“Oh fuck ketsl, I’m sorry.” Flip immediately apologized as your tits started leaking all over his hands and getting onto the sheets.

“It’s okay! Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” Your head was thrown back over his shoulder, and you shouted, coming on his cock.

Flip thrust into you only a couple more times before he pressed his hips as close to you as he could, and came, blowing his load so deep into you that he had to bite your shoulder just to stop himself from shouting too loudly.

“I love you.” You panted, completely blissed out and covered in sweat and all sorts of fluids that meant Flip would definitely be changing the sheets for the third time that week.

“You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?” Flip said back, equally out of breath, his own orgasm still shaking through him.

“I know.” You laughed, and he laughed too, because of course you did.

 After a long shower where the two of you scrubbed yourself clean and stole soapy kisses from one another, Flip helped you prepare a big lunch to bring to the park.

You had recently purchased a ton of new Tupperware containers from one of your friends at the moms to be classes, and Flip loaded them up with some leftover fried chicken, egg salad sandwiches, club sandwiches, bags of chips, fresh fruits that you let Flip slice, and bottles of water to fend off the heat of the day.

Flip loaded the basket and a blanket into the trunk, and helped you into the passenger seat of the truck held your hand the whole way across town.

The drive down to the park was beautiful, but he couldn’t help but steal glances at you every now and again.

You were wearing one of the new dresses, a floral one. You just looked like absolute sunshine, the way your hair blew around in the breeze, how your necklace sparkled in the light. He kissed you at every red light, made you laugh and tease him, telling him to keep his eyes on the road, even though he only had eyes for you.

 “How are you feeling?” Flip asked once you were settled on the picnic blanket in the park.

There weren’t too many parks like this in town, just pretty fields of soft grasses and wildflowers, where kids and dogs could run around and people could picnic in the sunshine. Colorado Springs boasted beautiful mountains, but Flip wanted to keep you far away from treacherous trails and water falls – for the time being, anyway.

“My ankles are swollen to all hell and my back is killing me, but other than that I’m great.” You chuckled, shifting on the big pillow that Flip had laid down for you so you could comfortably be propped slightly onto your side.

You had both enjoyed a delicious lunch, the remnants of it packed back away in the wicker basket that weighed down the blanket in the cool breeze.

“Can I listen?” Flip asked, gesturing to your stomach.

“Just be careful.” You nodded with a gentle smile, “They’re feisty.”

The baby had been very active the past week or so. Kicking was more and more frequent, and on more than one occasion when Flip had leaned down to rest his ear against your skin, he’d felt the small jab of a foot.  

“Well of course they are, just look at their mother.” Flip grinned up at you as he laid down on the blanket, using your stomach as a pillow of sorts.

“Oh no no no! You can’t blame this all on me, Detective Zimmerman.” You tugged on Flip’s ear, making him laugh, “This baby is going to be just as much of a troublemaker as you are, I’m fully prepared for that.”

“I am not a troublemaker.” Flip scoffed, and you arched an eyebrow, combing your fingers through his hair nonetheless.

“Do you remember our first date? How you broke us into the zoo after hours and we got to feed the giraffes even though we were absolutely not supposed to? And then security chased us all the way to the front gates?” You hummed, reminiscing.

“I only remember kissing you by the lion enclosure.” Flip blushed, “And excuse me, Mrs. Zimmerman, but I’m pretty sure the zoo was your idea to begin with.”

“It was not! I wanted to go ice skating.” You laughed, making him laugh too.

The baby kicked, Flip smiled at the thought that they liked the sound of your voices.

“Oh yeah.” Flip admitted, “But then remember, I took you ice skating and you fell so many times you almost broke your tailbone?”

“I do remember that.” You laughed. Flip had put a heating pad on your back for a week until you weren’t sore anymore, and that was only three weeks into dating.

“Do you think they’ll be good at ice skating?” Flip asked, wondering out loud, feeling your heartbeat through your skin as he listened to his baby.

“Looking for an Olympian, are we?” You hummed, your eyes closed, soaking up the rays of the afternoon sun.

“I used to want to be an Olympian.” Flip suddenly got strangely sentimental.

He’d been doing better, about the whole discussing his feelings thing. Especially now that he was going to be a dad, he didn’t want to ever be the kind of father that was silent all the time, that was reserved and uninterested, that buried his feelings. He wanted to teach his kid all the things he wished he had learned growing up, and this was one of them.

“One-hundred meter sprint, I remember.” You encouraged Flip, you always did. Never made a big deal about him opening up, never made a whole to-do about it. You just supported him and encouraged him like the angel you were. “I liked watching you run, I still do.”

“Maybe baby Zimmerman will be an Olympian, or an artist, or a doctor – not a lawyer.” Flip grimaced at the thought of his baby being a lawyer, and you laughed, tugged on his ear again.

“Hey, half our family are lawyers.” You reminded him.

“They’re the half we don’t talk to.” Flip teased, making you laugh again.

He loved the sound of your laugh.

“And here I thought you’d want them to be a cop, like their dad.” You mused.

 Flip frowned, for some reason that had never occurred to him.

 Once the park had grown too hot and crowded for both of your tastes, Flip packed up the truck and drove you to a lovely little Italian restaurant nearby the house.

You ate sitting side by side in a booth, pushing the table forward enough to accommodate your stomach. You had been craving garlic, and Flip couldn’t think of a better place to let you get your fill – Gino’s had unlimited garlic rolls.

You laughed about his sunburn that he got on the bridge of his nose, and he teased you for the spinach you had stuck between your teeth, and you kissed by the candlelight and ordered two different cannoli’s for dessert.

You both decided to skip the movie, the only thing that was playing was that new horror movie, The Exorcist, and Flip had promised Jimmy he’d go see it with him on Friday.

So, the evening found you and Flip sitting up in bed, reading over some case files as usual.

“Do you like that I’m a cop?” Flip asked, putting down the file he had been leafing through.

It was an old one, from the case. He’d been going over them more and more lately, wanting to do something about the whole fucking situation.

“What do you mean?” You asked, laying down on your side, taking his hand in yours and kissing the knuckles.

“Ron and Patrice, they get into this argument sometimes.” Flip said, running his other hand through his hair. “She doesn’t like that he’s a cop, feels like he’s betraying his own people by putting on a uniform.”

“I don’t blame her. People in those uniforms terrorize them.” You replied simply.

“Yeah.” Flip swallowed.

“They terrorize people like us too. Like our friends. People like Ron and Patrice and Harry and Bridges, all of us.” You said, softly.  

“But I’m not just a shitty beat cop, I’m a detective.” Flip tried, even though he knew it didn’t hold any real weight.

“Do you remember when you left to go to ‘Nam?” You asked, and Flip went silent. “I almost hated you for that. I wanted to, I was so angry with you. You had just proposed to me and then you were leaving.”

You shuffled over enough to rest your head on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, hugged you close.

“I thought I’d never see you again, I thought you’d go and die in a war that no one wanted, that you shouldn’t have left for, that I was going to be all alone with just the thought of you.” You continued.

“I know.” Flip said, remembering how terrified you looked.

“And do you remember what you told me?” You asked.

“I told you that I had to go. They picked me and I had to, that I didn’t have a choice.” Flip’s voice caught in his throat.

“You were so young then, do you remember? How your ears stuck out so far when they shaved your head?” You asked quietly.

“I remember.” Flip nodded.

He had been barely 27, but still not the youngest guy in his team. He wrote you letters whenever he could, wasn’t able to deliver any of them to you, but he wrote them.

“When you came back home I don’t think I ever cried harder – and then you went and joined the police. And there was that fear, all over again, that you would go out and follow someone else’s orders, that you would die playing someone else’s game.” You looked up at him, at his wet eyes, remembering how dark things felt all that time ago.

He hadn’t felt anything that dark in a long time, but this whole business with the case, that made him feel it too.

“There’s always a choice. But just like you made yours, I made mine. I chose to stay with you because I love you, because I know you’re a good man.” You kissed his hand, kissed it and kissed it again, kissed the gold band that lived on his finger.

Flip watched you, his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

It was quiet, so quiet in the house. He could hear every cricket and frog and buzz and chirp outside, could hear all the way down to the city. It was so quiet, felt like time stood still.

He looked down at you, brushed your hair behind your ear, put the case files on the night stand and slid down the bed to lay next to you, to take your hand in his and kiss your knuckles.

“You’re the only reason I do all this, you know that?” He whispered, not wanting to be too loud, not wanting to be overheard by the nature that surrounded him. “You and this bun in the oven we’ve got.”

“Phil.” You said, eyes soft, sad at the way his voice broke.

“I’ve seen so much shit, I know how bad the world is. I joined because I want to keep you safe, above everything else. You’re the only fucking thing that matters to me. I want you and our kids to walk around town and not feel like you’ve got a target on your back for the necklace around your neck. And maybe I didn’t make the right choices, maybe I didn’t know what the right choices were, but I made decisions that I thought would keep you safe.” He didn’t know why he was saying all this.

“I know honey.” You nodded, encouraging him, always encouraging.

“And then, last year, for the first fucking time I thought, maybe this was another wrong one. Maybe I’m not keeping you safe, maybe I’m putting you in more danger than before. Maybe I’m perpetuating a system that’s designed to only help a very small group of people, maybe I’m part of the problem.”

That last bit were Ron’s words from the bar, but they felt real, felt like they could be his own.

“I think, that just the fact that you’re aware of all this, already has you ten steps ahead of so many other people. You have done good work. You’ve made this community a safer place for everyone, you’ve helped catch and get rid of bad cops, and bad people.” You rest your forehead against his, “You asked if I liked that you’re a cop, and the answer is no, of course I don’t. But I love you, I see the good that you do. I see the way you’re not like them, how you try and be better, do better. Everyone can always do better.”

“You’re so brave, do you know that?” Flip asked, thinking about a year ago, thinking about how you looked evil in the face and stood tall, “You’re so brave. I don’t know how you do it.”

“We’re Jewish, we don’t have any other choice but to be brave.” You let out a wet laugh, brushing a tear away from your cheek, and from his. “’If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am not for others, what am I? If not now, when?’”

“If not you, who?” Flip said softly.

“Hm?” You asked, not familiar with that last part.

“Kwame Ture, he said that line at a rally last year. Ron went undercover, Jimmy and I listened in the car.” Flip explained.

“That’s a quote from Rabbi Hillel.” You smiled, “It’s a good one.”

“I’m going to make Bridges publish the case.” Flip decided, suddenly determined.

“Okay.” You said, a big grin on your radiant face.

“Tomorrow I’m going to talk to Ron, we’re going to force his hand like we should’ve last year.” Flip said, and you chuckled.

“Just don’t go getting yourself fired.” You pointed out, “Not now.”

“I want you to be proud of me.” Flip said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I’m already proud.” You assured him, placing a hand on his cheek as you kissed him again and again, pressed smooches to the corner of his mouth where you couldn’t quite reach his lips. “I wouldn’t have stuck by you all these years if I wasn’t.”

“Oh.” Flip said, swallowing hard around another one of those sentimental lumps.

“Surely you must know that.” You tugged sweetly on his ear, making him blush.

“I do, it’s just hard to believe it’s real sometimes.” Flip sighed. “I get so caught up in what the fuck I’d do if I ever lost you, the past year has been...”

He shook his head, unable to bring himself to even think about it.

“I know, but when you go to sleep, I’ll be here. And when you wake back up, I’ll still be here.” You gave his hand a firm squeeze, “If I’m not throwing up all of dinner, anyway.”

“It was a good dinner.” Flip looked at you and grinned.

As you laughed, the baby kicked, and Flip knew that even though he had made poor decisions in his day, one look at you told him he had at least made one good one. 

Taglist! @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @plomblooms @venusianmaiden @kylo-renne @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @johnlennonchewinggum @callmehopeless @imaginedreamwrite (idk who else to tag im sorry if i’ve forgotten you!)

[rinusagitora]

we will carve a home out of the hollow in your chest

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Momo Hinamori, Izuru Kira, Renji Abarai, Shuuhei Hisagi, Toushirou Hitsugaya

Pairings: RenShuuKiraHina, familial HitsuHina, mentioned badship AiHina

Words: 1700+

Summary: Canon divergent, pos TYBW arc. WARNINGS-- body horror, minor violence, mass death. 1/4. The war is over, and the losses are permanent, but they know how to manage.

FFN | AO3 | Next

It was true the universe, or whatever power mastered destiny, gave her a bad hand with Sousuke and those fifteen years of Hell she spent with him. It was enough to put wrinkles across her face and tint her honey skin some ugly grey, it was enough to ruin her once lilted voice, it was enough to weigh down her limbs.

But this was enough to put an extra century or so on anybody’s face. It was more than what was called for with what she had already suffered.

She was okay though. She, Momo Hinamori, knew how to manage when every part of her ached. She dared argue that it was when she was most productive-- anything and everything that kept her mind off her heartbreak, her grief, her horror, her self-loathe. Even the mass destruction the Quincies caused rolled off her back and she took it in stride so long as she didn’t dwell on the amount of tally marks on her sheet. Not even the smell of burnt fat and gore really affected her.

Nanao’s hand clasped her shoulder as they watched other officers heave yet another charred husk onto the cart. Her friend had tied a wet rag around her face as if it would smother the fetid air, but she wondered, as she watched Nanao’s eyes shine, if it was partly to catch her tears. Nanao’s coldness was bravado. Was she put in the field, it took every fiber of her self-discipline to hold herself together. She wasn’t seasoned to battle, or it consequences, like their coworkers.

“Rest,” Nanao’s voice was almost lost in her rag, but it would’ve been easy to guess what her friend would’ve said regardless if she could’ve heard it or not. “You’ve been up even longer than our captains. You’re useless if you collapse.”

The concern in her voice betrayed her intentions, but Nanao was smart and knew what buttons to push to get people to do what she wanted. She was almost as good as Sousuke in that way.

She wordlessly handed over her clipboard and made her way through the debris. She wondered if she had stayed up long enough she wouldn’t toss and turn for hours until she actually fell asleep, she wondered if she was exhausted enough she wouldn’t remember her nightmares. They plagued her even worse at that time than even just after Aizen stabbed her.

The tents were a virtual city that had sprung up in a matter of hours just after word of Juha Bach’s death circulated. They weren’t meant to serve privacy or privilege, only as a center where officers could rest and refuel until they had to return to the mess that lie just outside of it. It was always full and always busy, but the only sounds were that of quiet snores, footfalls, chopsticks against trays, a sob every couple of minutes. It was the place where the massive losses finally sunk in, without any distractions. She hated the place for that reason. It made it even harder to breathe than where the smell of death coated nearly her every orifice.

She laid on a low bunk. She didn’t bother with the blankets because they were well-used and filthy and of no comfort to her. Blackness consumed her as soon as her head hit the pillow. Thank God. She may not able to hold herself together otherwise.

She was a light sleeper when she wasn’t comatose. Bumps, whispers, feather-like touches were enough to rouse her in most cases. It was her excuse why she didn’t sleep for days-- it was impossible for her to wake when she was worked to her very bones, but a relatively sedentary lifestyle, like her work normally was, made it difficult.

That time, it was an argument that woke her.

However much she loved her brother, however glad she was that he was alive, he needed to tone it down if he wanted to keep his vocal cords.

She took her arm off her eyes as she sat up. And then, for the first time since the invasion, tears sprang to her eyes as her gaze laid to rest on a familiar head of blonde hair and the handsome nose that peaked just beyond his bangs.

“Oh my god, Izuru!”

She didn’t care how many eyes were on her as she raced over to him. All of her boys were alright, all of her boys were home and in one piece. She had kept it together the entire time, she was allowed at least one lapse in her stoicism.

Izuru caught her wrists as she made to hold him. It was then her sight caught it; the mass in the shape of his arm that seemed to absorb every bit of light that hit it, the hole in his side.

Her sobs turned into horrified shrieks. It felt exactly like the first time she discovered the body of a lover, how it felt like it was she pinned up on that wall instead Aizen. It was as if her chest had been blown off too that moment. Her eyes ached, she couldn’t catch her breathe, and then it went as dark as that arm.

She wondered, for half a second, if that entire thing had just been a bad dream. But Izuru was still there, the hole in his chest and his arm still in clear view, and Toushirou called her name as he held her upright with his forearms under her pits. She must’ve been out for only a few seconds….

“I told you this would happen, you fool. I hope this makes you happy.” Izuru growled. She was about to shout his name as her lover turned away, but it died into some pathetic blubber.

“Can you stand?”

Her head whipped to her brother then. She couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts for a moment, and then she finally nodded.

“Kira’s… a lot of things right now.” Toushirou said. “I know you’ll think this is your fault in some way if you haven’t already, but it isn’t. It’s just hard for him for you to see him like this.

Her brother’s reassurances fell onto deaf ears. It felt as if her heart tore from her aorta and sunk into her belly. She couldn’t make herself stop crying, all the pain Izuru must be in whirled in her head. She barely registered when Toushirou shout for everyone to mind their own business.

“Grab grab something to eat and then get back to work.” He told her then. She could do that, the work part at least. She wouldn’t be able to eat so long as she was so emotional. Food didn’t sit well in her stomach was she was like that.

The trip to her captain was a blur, his orders were a blur, all the hours she moved rubble and counted bodies were a blur. She couldn’t even say if Nanao was with her or not. She could only replay that terrible sight over and over.

She was physically removed from that sense after someone grabbed her shoulder.

It was Renji, and Shuuhei was at his flank with trays under his arm. Her clipboard clattered on the ground as she fell into them. She bent them to her level and kissed their faces as they held her. It was hard to hold herself together around her lovers, when they cried together so often, when they made her feel loved and alright after her meltdowns.

“Ise tells us you’ve been out of it all day.” Renji said as he picked her up by the back of her knees. Of course Nanao would tattle. Granted, she wasn’t sure if she entirely blamed her friend, she thought as she laid her cheek on her lover’s temple.

“Izuru’s back and I didn’t take it well.” She sniffed. She knew she would cry again after she checked back into reality, she hated how gross her face was when she cried.

“Neither did I.” Shuuhei said. He, like her, must’ve wailed. People like them just couldn’t catch a break. Their hearts were always an open wound.

She sat between them on a fallen pillar. She laid her head on Shuuhei’s shoulder as he set a tray on her lap. Rice and beans. She would light them a fire and warm her cold feet, but the idea quickly made her sick with the stench of burnt human flesh still so thick.

“Eat, you’re as gaunt as a skeleton.” Renji chided. She lamely touched her food to her lips, but like normal, she simply couldn’t bring herself to have single meals. She couldn’t stomach anything for days or weeks, and then binged when her body finally couldn’t be starved anymore.

Still, she had been in less comfortable circumstances in the past. Little bites, she thought, so her stomach wouldn’t heave. Just to make Renji happy.

“Where’ve you guys been?” She asked.

“Mostly in the west end of the Seireitei with squads seven and thirteen. We’ve been helping with reconstruction since that area’s been cleared.” Shuuhei replied.

“Good. I’m glad we’re getting some of the barracks back. I can’t stand the tents.”

“You’re never so abashed around us.” Shuuhei said with some mild tone of smugness. That tone once made her knees weak and loins hot, but it didn’t seem to do anything to her then. It made her even sadder for some reason. She still hadn’t given them that. The thought made her relive every time Aizen fucked it, it brought back the phantoms of his unkind hands.

“I can keep you gentlemen clean.” She snort, as if they all weren’t still covered in welts and grime. “The tents are disgusting. So much filth can’t be good for anyone’s health.”

“It won’t be long. We are prioritizing living quarters, after all, starting with the captains’ quarters and moving down. Everybody’s been starting shit lately because of how packed together we are, so it’ll be good to have real beds to sleep in.” Shuuhei said.

She and Renji hummed

Renji nudged her with his elbow. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Her tears dripped onto her rice. Shuuhei kissed her scalp and combed his fingers through the tresses. It didn’t soothe her heartache like his touch normally could. It couldn’t fill the hole in Izuru’s side, it couldn’t restore his arm, it couldn’t bring back the sheen to his eyes, so of course it couldn’t relief her aches.

Renji sniffed. “Eat,” he told her. “We’ll take this one step at a time. There are other bridges we have to cross before that one.”

Part of her hoped her grief finally suffocated her.