Inspired by an off handed imagine in the Shunsui Garden channel, hereโs some cute scenarios of 3 captains having their hair played with.
Shunsui Kyoraku
Shunsui had to wake up early for an all captains meeting. Sleep still hung heavy in his bones. He can feel himself getting grumpy because nothings going right for him. First, his coffeeโs burnt, the bitter taste souring his mood. As he dressed, he ran out of deodorant and couldnโt find clean socks. The lil annoyances that make a morning feel diabolically unfair. You can see it in his gruff sighs and tensing shoulders. One thing always guarantees to make him happier. You shush him gently, asking him to sit on your shared bed. You grabbed his hair brush, beginning to brush it through, taming any mild knots that pop up. Something about the simple act of brushing his hair sent him into a relaxed state. He leant back against you slightly, leaning into your touch with almost a purr. Shunsuiโs eyes felt heavy despite your attempts to keep him awake with gentle kisses and questions about his day.
Shinji Hirako
โPrincess, thereโs no need to-.โ You cut Shinji off with a simple peck to the lips.
โPleaaaaaase? Momo always said your hair was so nice when it was longer!โ You whined. Youโd always known him with the Bob style haircut. But now it was getting to his shoulder blades, there was more to play with. You had asked if you could help him put it in a pony tail for your night out. Giving Shinji the pout and puppy eye combo, you knew he couldnโt resist. He sighed in defeat.
โFine.โ He grumbled as you grinned. Eagerly, you grabbed his hair tie and put it between your lips as he turned to have his back facing you. You carded his blonde silky strands between your fingers, enjoying the light lemony scent emanating from his shampoo. With light and deft fingers, you pulled his hair back into a low ponytail.
"There, all done!" You replied before kissing the top of his head.
Kenpachi Zaraki
It was getting under your skin how he couldn't see it, how it couldn't affect his day to day like it did you. The mass of tangles in his long locks. After his strenuous training session and a shower to wash off the layers of grime, you grabbed your hair brush and ordered him to sit on the bed. He stared down at you with a confused "Huh?" You tugged Kenpachi's arm, making him sit on the edge of the bed as you positioned yourself behind him.
"Is this some new sex thing you're dying to try out?" He asked with his iconic grin. You playfully smacked him in the shoulder with the plastic brush.
"No, I'm looking after the birds nest that is your hair.โ You respond as you pull the brush through his coal coloured locks. Kenpachi would growl slightly when you had particularly hard knots to tangle but he didnโt protest. Once you were done, you gently kissed his cheek.
โNow you look like a respectable captain of Squad 11.โ You said against his skin.
I haven't done one of these in a while! While working on a "being (xyz)'s partner" request, I found inspo to finish this one off and to do a few for other fandoms (as wanted in the poll I did recently) so enjoy!
CW- Mentions of sex
Unlike other rough and gruff giants, Kenpachi wouldnโt become a mega softy behind closed doors. Heโd be gentler, of course! But more like heโs suddenly aware of how fragile a regular shinigami is.ย
Doesnโt mean he canโt be rough. Kenpachi is VERY happy to indulge his partners in whatever they like in the bedroom. And I mean WHATEVER you like. Very few limits/ hard noโs for him.ย
Heโd be grateful if youโre able to handle kids, especially Yachiru. She can be a handful for him and sometimes he needs 5 mins alone. So seeing Yachiru liking you would be a huge bonus.ย
Honestly, Iโm not sure what his affectionate style would be. Definitely not gift giving, he doesnโt seem like the kinda guy to constantly buy gifts. Maybe physical touch? Anything from sex to hand holding, he is likely to prefer physical touch and is more than willing to give plenty of touches back.ย
Oh he would ADORE a partner who is happy to spar. Kenpachi is always fighting, always training to become better. So a partner who would want to help him is ideal. He may go a bit easier on you than he would his squad members but donโt be fooled!ย He'll have you pinned in an instant.
Donโt expect him to remember anniversaries, birthdays, etc. He gives me the vibe that, although he does care if he misses stuff and ends up feeling guilty, heโd genuinely just forget. Literally tell him the day before and youโve more likely for him to remember than if you put it on a calendar.ย
Kenpachi is a simple man. When it comes to date nights, heโll be happy as Larry just to stay inside with some good food, something on the TV and you in his lap. And when you do go out, itโs not some fancy restaurant or elaborate, finely detailed day in town. Itโll be a bit of shopping (if thatโs what youโre into) and a sit down meal at a ramen joint he loves.
How I feel when I switch up on which man I want to fantasise about next but low key get stressed because now I feel like I'm emotionally cheating on the others
Byakuya did very few things without intention, but last night you made a sound when his teeth grazed your throat and his composure had simplyโฆ lapsed.
This morning he seen it in the light, a deep reddish-purple bloom against your skin. You reached for the high-collared kosode you usually wore as part of your uniform and his hand caught yours.
"Leave it," he said.
You looked at him, fingers still hovering over the fabric. "Byakuya, people are going to see."
He wasn't looking at you. He was looking at the mark. "Wear the one with the lower neckline."
You wore it to the division that morning and watched his reaction from the corner of your eye as you walked beside him through the main hall. Officers glanced at your throat and then immediately away, a few of them going red.
Byakuya's pace never changed, but when you passed Lieutenant Abarai, who noticed and choked on his tea, Byakuya's hand found the small of your back and stayed there.
"You're enjoying this," you murmured, keeping your eyes forward.
"I have no idea what you're referring to..." he said, his thumb tracing one slow proprietary circle against your spine.
At his office door, with three officers still in full view, he paused and adjusted the collar of your kosode, not to cover the mark but to frame it better, his fingertips lingering against the bruise.
"This suits you," he said, quiet enough that only you could hear. "I may need to be less careful in the future."
You exhaled. "Why do I get the feeling you're not joking when you say that?"
His mouth barely shifted, but his eyes said everything. Then he turned and walked into his office like he hadn't just branded you in front of his entire division.
Renji Abarai
You woke with three of them this time, a trail down the side of your neck like Renji had been mapping a path with his mouth, which was essentially what had happened.
You were standing in front of the mirror taking note of the damage when he appeared behind you, chin hooking over your shoulder, and whistled at his own handiwork.
"Damn," he said, sounding deeply impressed with himself. "The bottom one kinda looks like a butterfly."
You jabbed your elbow back into his ribs. "It does not."
He laughed and wrapped both arms around your middle, pulling your back against his chest, swaying you side to side like you were slow-dancing in the bathroom.
You reached for a scarf and his hand intercepted it, tossing it onto the futon behind you. "Nope. Absolutely not." He turned you around by the hips and examined your neck with the critical eye of an artist reviewing a canvas. "You're not covering those up. I worked hard on those."
You crossed your arms. "I have to report to the Eighth Division today, Renji. Captain Kyoraku is going to have a field day."
His grin only got bigger. "Good. Great. Perfect, actually. Tell him I said hello."
He pressed one more deliberate kiss right at the base of your throat, sucking lightly just long enough to deepen what was already there, then pulled back and admired the result.
"There. Now you're ready."
He caught your expression in the mirror which was half mortified, half grinning, and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, laughing against your skin. "You love it. Don't even try to front with me right now. You love it."
You bit your lip to keep from smiling. "You're the worst person I've ever met."
"Well, that hasn't made you get rid of me yet," he said, kissing the butterfly one more time.
Later that afternoon, an officer at the Eighth squinted at your neck and asked if you'd gotten hurt during training. Before you could answer, Renji--who just happened to be dropping off paperwork, called back over his shoulder without breaking stride, "That's my handiwork, actually!"
You were going to kill him.
Jushiro Ukitake
He found the mark before you did. You were lying with your head on his chest, half asleep in the late morning light, when his fingers drifted along your throat and paused.
"Oh," he said, very quietly, and something in his voice made you open your eyes.
He was staring at the curve of your neck, his thumb resting just beside a bruise that was already deepening in color. You reached up to touch it and he caught your hand, bringing it to his lips instead.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd been so--"
You cut him off. "Jushiro, don't you dare apologize."
He looked at you, surprised and you held his gaze. "I like it. I like that it's there."
His thumb traced the edge of the mark and his eyes went half-lidded in a way that told you the apology had been more reflex than regret.
Later that day you brought him tea wearing your usual kosode. You hadn't gone out of your way to show the mark off, but you hadn't hidden it either, and the neckline sat just low enough that when you leaned forward, there it was.
Kiyone spotted it first. A sharp inhale, then a hard elbow to Sentaro's ribs, followed by the crash of a dropped report stack.
"Captain Ukitake," Kiyone whispered, although not remotely quietly enough. "He looks like he's feeling better, don't you think?"
Sentaro caught on and broke into a grin. "Much better. His energy must really be coming back."
Kiyone clasped her hands together, eyes shining, and turned to you. "You're so good for him. Truly."
You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. Ukitake's hand found yours under the tea tray, squeezing once.
"They're going to tell the entire division," he murmured, cheeks faintly pink.
"Probably," you said, making no effort to adjust your collar. "That okay with you?"
He looked at the mark, then at you, and his fingers came up to trace the edge of it.
"More than okay," he said quietly. "I just hope they don't overdo crediting you with my recovery."
You laughed, but from across the room, Kiyone wiped an actual tear. "She's saving our captain one night at a time."
Shunsui Kyoraku
Shunsui never just leave one mark. He left a constellation.
He spent half the night with his mouth on your throat, humming against your pulse, murmuring things that made your toes curl, and by morning you looked like you'd lost a fight with a very affectionate octopus.
You were examining them in the mirror when he appeared in the doorway, still half-dressed, hat absent, hair loose around his shoulders. He leaned against the frame and took a long, appreciative look.
"Now that," he said, "is a beautiful sight."
You turned and raised an eyebrow. "Shunsui, there's like eight of them."
"Eleven," he corrected, crossing the room and tilting your chin to inspect the tinier ones. "You miscounted the little ones."
You wrapped a bandage around your neck before heading to the Eighth Division, layering it carefully enough that it looked like a training injury rather than a night spent underneath your captain. It worked, mostly. A few officers gave you concerned glances while Nanao studied you over her glasses but said nothing.
Then midafternoon, Shunsui appeared beside your desk with a look of theatrical concern. "That dressing looks like it needs changing. Come on, let me take a look."
You stared at him. "It's fine."
"It could get infected," he said, absolutely shameless, already steering you by the elbow toward his office.
The door closed and he unwound the bandage slowly, each layer peeling away while his eyes stayed on your throat. The marks had deepened inro rich vivid blooms of violet and burgundy trailing from below your ear to your collarbone.
"Oh~" he breathed, tilting your head with one finger to trace the darkest one with his thumb. "These got prettier."
You swallowed. "The whole office thinks I'm injured."
He grinned, rewinding the bandage with infuriating tenderness, his knuckles brushing your skin with every pass. "Good, then I'll get to change your dressing again tomorrow."
He tucked the end in and kissed you right above the edge of it. "A thorough recovery takes time, sweetheart. Let's not rush it."
Kenpachi Zaraki
He didn't even realize he did it until you winced when your collar rubbed against your neck the next morning.
Kenpachi wasn't a man who kept track of the finer details of what his mouth did, he just knew that at some point last night he had his teeth on your throat and you grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, so he kept going.
Now you were sitting on the edge of the futon pressing your fingers to the spot gingerly, and he leaned over to look at it with the same casual interest he'd give a new scar after a good fight.
"Huh," he said. "That's a big one."
You shot him a look. "That's all you have to say?"
He shrugged, grinning. "Looks good on you."
You didn't bother covering it. There was no point, really, you'd learned early on that being with Kenpachi meant abandoning any pretense of subtlety about anything.
So you walked through the Eleventh Division with the mark on full display, a dark angry bruise just above your collarbone, and watched the reactions ripple out like a shockwave. Officers stared, then immediately looked away. A few of the younger ones went red. Yumichika raised one perfect eyebrow and said nothing, which meant he was saving his commentary for later.
Then Kenpachi fell into step beside you, and you watched him clock the way every single person in the corridor glanced at your neck and then at him.
His hand landed on the back of your neck, heavy and possessive, his thumb resting directly on the bruise.
You hissed. "Ow--Fuck--That's tender, you know."
"Yeah," he said, not moving his hand. "I know."
He steered you through the barracks like that, his palm covering the mark like he was signing his name over it, and when Ikkaku opened his mouth to comment, Kenpachi stared at him until he closed it.
"You could be a little less obvious," you muttered.
He looked down at you, thumb still pressing into the bruise just enough to make your breath catch. "Why?"
Ikkaku Madarame
The mark wasn't subtle. He left it right on the front of your throat, dead center, like he had been trying to make a point.
You discovered it in the morning when you caught your reflection in the blade of his zanpakutล, which was propped against the wall, and let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh.
"Ikkaku."
He was doing push-ups on the floor behind you, shirtless and completely unbothered. "Yeah?"
You pointed at your throat. He looked up, looked at the mark, and his face split into a grin. "Nice."
"Nice?" You grabbed a scarf from the shelf and wound it around your neck before he could stop you. He watched from the floor, mid push-up, frowning.
"That's rude. You know that, right?"
You ignored him and tucked the ends in neatly, checking your reflection. Gone. Completely hidden. You felt his arms wrap around you from behind, his chin dropping onto your shoulder.
"You're really gonna do me like that?"
"I have dignity, Ikkaku."
"Overrated."
You made it all the way to training with the scarf intact, feeling pretty good about yourself, until Yumichika appeared at your side, looked at your neck, and tilted his head like a bird examining something mildly offensive.
"That scarf doesn't match your uniform," he said bluntly. "Take it off."
Your hand flew to your throat. "I'm cold today."
"It is not cold today. It is the middle of summer. Take it off or I will, because looking at that color combination is causing me physical pain."
You tightened the scarf and Yumichika reached over just as quickly and tugged one end loose with a single elegant pull, and the whole thing unraveled, and there it was. Dark and obvious.
Yumichika stared at it for exactly two seconds. Then he turned toward the training yard where Ikkaku was stretching and called out, "You are an animal and I am embarrassed to know you."
Ikkaku looked up, saw your bare neck, and pumped his fist in the air. "LET'S GO."
You buried your face in your hands. "I hate both of you."
Yumichika patted your shoulder. "The mark is ugly dear. He could have at least placed it somewhere aesthetic... You can cover it back up now."
From across the yard, Ikkaku shouted, "DON'T YOU DARE."
Yumichika Ayasegawa
The mark sat in the curve where your neck met your shoulder, placed exactly where the neckline of your kosode would frame it if you wore the one he liked.
You traced it with your fingers that morning and actually smiled before catching yourself.
Then you put on your high-collared kosode anyway, because walking around the Eleventh Division with a hickey felt like announcing something you weren't ready for. When you stepped out, Yumichika was waiting. His eyes went to your collar immediately and his mouth thinned.
"No," he said. Just that.
"No what?"
"That collar. You're not wearing that." He crossed to you and tugged the fabric down to expose the mark, studying it.
"I put that there on purpose. The angle, the placement, the way it sits against your skin tone. That is my best work and you covered it with the most unflattering neckline you own."
You felt your face heat. "Yumichika, it's a hickey, not a gallery piece."
"Everything I do is beautiful dear." He was already pulling out the kosode with the lower neckline. "Change. Now."
When you emerged wearing it, he cupped your jaw and tilted your head, his thumb grazing the bruise.
"There~ Now you look like someone who belongs to me."
He walked beside you through the division with his hand resting on the exact spot, fingers splayed to frame it. When Ikkaku squinted at your neck and opened his mouth, Yumichika didn't glance at him.
"Say one word and I'll tell everyone about that little kendo tornament in the world of the living."
Ikkaku's mouth snapped shut. You bit back a laugh.
"You're terrifying."
"Thank you," he said, and pressed his lips to your temple.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi
The mark Mayuri had left was not something you wanted to explain to Twelfth Division members who already looked at you with a mixture of confusion and pity for willingly sharing a bed with their captain.
You wrapped a bandage around your throat and practiced your "training accident" excuse in the mirror three times.
You'd nearly made it through the entire morning, before Mayuri summoned you to the lab.
He was bent over a microscope when you entered and didn't look up for thirty seconds. When he did, his golden eyes went straight to the bandage.
"What is that."
You touched your throat. "I hurt myself during--"
"You did not hurt yourself during anything. Remove it."
You unwound the bandage slowly and the mark came into view. It was vivid, almost chemical-looking and high on the side of your throat where his mouth had been last night.
He crossed to you, gripping your chin and turning your head. "Excellent pigmentation. The capillary disruption is more extensive than I estimated."
You stared at him. "You're not serious. This was part of an experiment?!"
"I am always serious. This is a perfect record of applied pressure and vascular response and you attempted to hide it under gauze like a common injury."
He pulled a small jar from his coat and you flinched.
"What is that?"
"A fixative. It will prevent the mark from fading for approximately seventy-two additional hours."
Your mouth fell open. "Mayuri, I am not letting you preserve a hickey like a lab sample."
"You are, because I have already applied it." His thumb had swiped across the bruise while holding your chin, and the skin tingled faintly.
You looked at him in disbelief. He looked back with zero remorse.
"You are mine. The data should reflect that. You may leave the bandage here. You will not be needing it."
Shuhei Hisagi
He was mortified at first. You watched it happen in real time--his eyes landing on the mark, his face cycling through recognition, pride, and immediate guilt in about two seconds.
"I'm sorry," he said, already reaching for your neck like he could rub it away. "I got carried away, I should've been more careful."
You caught his hand and kissed his knuckles. "Shuhei. Breathe. I bruise easy and I didn't stop you, which means I didn't want you to stop."
The guilt faded slowly, replaced by something cautious and searching as he studied the mark, a dark uneven bloom right below your jaw.
Your uniform covered it perfectly. High collar, no problems, and you made it through the entire day without a single incident. You honestly forgotten about it by evening, which was your mistake, because your evenings were spent drinking with Rangiku.
You were three cups in, warm and loose, and you tugged your collar open to cool down without thinking twice and Rangiku's eyes locked onto your neck like a heat-seeking missile.
You didn't even get a full breath in before she grabbed your chin, tilted your head, and announced to the entire table, "Oh my god!!!~ Hisagi marked you up girl!!!"
The bar went quiet. Kira choked on his drink. Ikkaku slammed his cup down and howled. You slapped her hand away, face on fire.
"Rangiku, I swear to--"
"Just look at it! That's not even subtle, someone was making a statement last night!~" She was beaming, absolutely delighted, already turning to find Hisagi in the crowd.
He was three seats down, frozen with his cup halfway to his mouth, the flush spreading so far past the 69 tattoo it looked like his whole face might combust.
"Hisagi!" Rangiku called, raising her cup. "I didn't know you had it in you!"
He set his drink down very carefully, stood up, walked over to you, and put his hand on the back of your neck. His voice was strained but steady.
"We're leaving."
You grabbed your cup and downed the rest. "Yep. Great idea."
Rangiku's laughter followed you both out the door, and halfway down the street you felt his grip loosen and heard him start laughing too, quiet and helpless, his forehead dropping against the top of your head.
"We're never going to hear the end of that."
You laced your fingers through his. "Nope. Never."
Izuru Kira
You woke up to the feeling of something cool and adhesive being pressed gently to your throat. Your eyes opened to find Izuru leaning over you, brow furrowed in concentration, carefully smoothing a bandage over the side of your neck.
There was a bruise underneath, you could feel the tenderness, and from the look on his face Izuru been awake long enough to find it, agonize over it, and devise a solution before you even stirred.
"Izuru," you murmured, voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing?"
He pressed the edge down with his thumb, not meeting your eyes. "It's visible. I don't want people to look at you differently because of something I did."
Your chest ached at his words and you reached up and covered his hand where it rested against the bandage, pressing his palm flat to your throat.
"Thank you," you said, and meant it.
He finally looked at you, surprised, like he'd been bracing for you to be upset with him. "You're not mad?"
"Mad? Izuru, you woke up before me just to make sure nobody would give me a hard time today. That'sโฆ" You squeezed his hand. "Was really thoughtful of you."
The tension in his shoulders released all at once and he exhaled. You pulled him down and kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.
"You're a good man, you know that?"
His ears went pink. "I just didn't want anyone to--"
"I know. That's why it means so much."
You touched the edge of the bandage and smiled. "Keep being you, okay? I'll wear your little patch job with pride."
A quiet laugh escaped him and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
"I'll apply the next one better," he said. "That one folded a bit while I was putting it on."
a/n. heheheheh i felt way too devious while writing this because of the few peps I had in mind
โฑ ๐๐ข๐๐๐. kenpachi hates you, just as you'd expect. he hates you so much he can't put it into words. kenpachi wants to hurt you, just as much as he wants to be hurt. kenpachi wants to fight. kenpachi loves the fight. kenpachi loves you.
notes: gender-neutral reader, no proof-read (messy), reader is a soul reaper in a separate squad, pre-TYBW, unhealthy dynamic, guro (fetishistic-gorey) themes, passive suicidality, violence, blood, obsessive & posessive behavior (from both)
There's something obscene about the way the captain of the 11th Division acts towards you.
It wasn't a relationship, it was barely even an acquaintanceship, and yet he thought of you each waking moment.
Kenpachi would crawl through hell to have your weapon brandished at him. He drools publicly over the idea of seeing that fearful, candid, primal look on your face. Or to bear witness to your viscera pooling beneath you when his hands tear you apart.
Each new thought made his head spin. Neither of you knew when it had gotten to this point, but he had dedicated himself to your end. One too many missed opportunities. He would have you.
And you... You'd respected him so much and for so longโ His fighting style, that self-restriction, the way he would rather trap his capability in bondage than be part of an unfair fight.
โJust like Kenpachi,โ you'd once said with such confidence, โI want to be as fair and just as Kenpachi Zaraki.โ
Fair? Just? It seemed like nobody in the training academy understood what you'd meant by that at the time, and frankly if you hadn't proven yourself as quickly as you had you'd have been rejected from the academy under cause of insanity...
Instead, you graduated with near-perfect scores and very short-lived fame of prodigious abilities. You were called dedicated, but you knew dedication's true name, and it was much less pretty.
It didn't take long for Kenpachi to hear of your strength and become instantly enamoured; Yet somehow he missed each chance to ever witness it for himself. How frustrating. How very bitter, a taste like iron and nightshade down his throat each time.
Once, you had been sparring with another. Kenpachi had turned upโ after all, you were right in his corner of the Seireiteiโ and he wasn't even seeking you out. But there you were, on one random day, fighting.
A simple spar, he had reminded himself. Only a fraction of your power.
It was your mistake to ever let him see it.
You denied him the fight. He hated that more than anything. To Kenpachi, you were denying him his very reason to live.
He despised you for it, and it would only get worse with time.
Avoiding him was much simpler than initially assumed. Your job was easy. Just keep as busy as possible, keep far away, and most importantly: leave a trail of your most bloody work for him to pick up the pieces...
Of course you knew what you were doing, you'd known what you wanted the moment you met him. So had he, you were certain, as he endlessly pined for your aggressions to be directed at him instead.
A fun game, and one sure to end in your demiseโ But how could you care when his attention was all yours; the delicious tension palpitating between you, just wondering when one another would give in and strike.
Eventually it reached a point that everyone in the thirteen court guard squads had heard about it from somewhere. After all, it was far from usual that a captain of any sort explicitly sought out a lower-ranked shinigami.
โIt's lustful,โ your own Captain described it, โand truly disgusting. Whatever it is you're doing to him, stop. He's creeping me out with these... incessant requests.โ
And you could have, but there was little point. Zaraki had longed for the bloodshed for so long that it was just another fact of life. The craving was familiar now. You were much the same, of course. He could see it in your eyes, with every picture and every report of your existence only serving to taunt him.
The never-closed loop. The thrill of the hunt.
Some nights, he lay awake just thinking about it.
How shameful that a man so strong could not have what he wished for most.
Kenpachi of Zaraki. Your suitor. A beast, a demon, something other than human and something far beyond soul reaper; all descriptions he'd been given. All at once both right and wrong.
...How exhilarating it was to push somebody like that to their limits.
โAre you doing it on purpose?โ You were once asked by his third seat, Madarame. โIf you push him too far one day, he really will kill you.โ
โI know,โ you had sighed out in response, utterly infatuated.
The man scoffed with an unsurprised grin across his lips. โYou must have a death wishโ You'd do better in Squad Eleven, you know.โ
You never did take up the offer, for you had long since made Kenpachi an unspoken promiseโ
To not lay yourself at his feet like an offering. To let him catch you. Let him kill you and devour you, as a starving wolf and his most sought after prey, ever more satisfying after strenuous effort.
And now, you had been caught. So much time had passed, and you had pushed too far, become much too cocky. Now, you were his.
You'd come face to face with Kenpachi. After the amount of time spent playing this silly game, part of you had yet to believe that the rumours going aroundโ his violent obsession toward youโ was in any way true. That part of you was vanquished as soon you saw his expression.
His chest heaved and his breathing grew ragged as he stood before you. Eyes were wild and bloodshot. Since last you'd seen him in person his hair had grown longer, and, though perhaps it was just your memory failing you, he seemed even broaderโ Chest splayed tight against his haori.
โYou know what I want.โ The Captain stated it with a daunting confidence. โAnd you'll keep me waiting no longer, understand?โ
โYou wish to fight.โ
A sickening grin broke across Kenpachi's face, elated. โDamn right.โ
You unsheathed your sword.
โWith pleasure,โ you bow as if you had just been asked to fetch him tea. Your body betrays you however, shivering with terror and anticipation.
It seemed like that response only served to anger him further, veins growing visible along his muscles before he launched at you. The sound he made was more akin to a bear than a man.
Elegant as you were frustrating, you could dodge the vast majority of his swings, each time delivering a strike of your own.
It was hard to tell if Kenpachi was restraining himself, or if your time climbing the ranks of the Seireitei had truly trained you to such an extent.
Still, you fought passionatelyโ for Kenpachi Zaraki was with you, demanding your best. Demanding his retribution. You would give it to him if it killed you.
Ah, how grateful you would be if he were the one to land the final blow.
Dust from the dry earth quaked into the air with each of his movements, and you met him in kind with practiced, brutal swings.
With what recent damage it had sustained, your zanpakuto was not sharp and not built for such a battle. Yet through perseverance or miracle or passion it soon broke his skin. More than that... It ran clean through.
Your mistake, you soon came to realise.
In a swift motion his large hand captured your wristโ no, more like your entire forearmโ and lifted you up into the air.
Your body felt like it was breaking in his grip, adrenaline swarming each crevasse of your brain with such force that the bones splintering inside you were nothing more than a passing observation.
โYou...โ He breathed with malice, a tone unnerving enough to pierce your chest. โSo long I've waited to feel your blade, and now this is all you have to show me?โ
Kenpachi shook you as if you were a broken toy.
โD'you get it?!โ His scream warbled, almost sounding as tearful as he did enraged. โThere is nobody elseโ I am your opponent!โ
Your entire body was lifted and pummeled into the earth. It cracked beneath the force. Sand and sediment surrounded the battle like a veil, shielding even the gods from witnessing such brutality.
โStop holding back!!โ
It was wonderful. Truly such a beautiful sight to witness. You were glad, in a way, that it was all yours to experience.
Sweat glistened on his body, each perfect serving of skin and muscle adorned with sunlight. His eyes glowed with something otherworldly, a ferocious, golden hue that bounced from his reiatsu and adorned his entire being.
โKโenpachi... Sir...โ You wheezed out as your lungs struggled to keep up. It's not right, and you know it, but an ecstatic smile drew across your lips. Your eyes seemed more alight with life than ever.
His throat constricted itself, tight and painful as strong emotions bubbled like hot molten in his stomach.
You're dropped onto the ground. You barely notice at first with how disoriented you've become.
โYou dare taunt me with that voice?โ His words came out through an outlandish laugh. It sputtered into a choke before he continued, โI can't imagine how long you've waited for this.โ
He grabbed your sword, still plunged into his shoulder, and began to pull it out by its hilt. His breath stuttered as he did so, feeling tarnished meat pull against the blade as it exits. Delicious.
The zanpakuto exits with a beautiful flourish of deep red that makes the air smell so strongly of copper. Zaraki does not acknowledge the wound with any more than a grunt.
Your sword landed by your feet with a clatter and, through hazy vision, you scrambled to pick it up.
โOh, come on,โ Zaraki tilted his head in taunt, โshow me what you've really got. Anything. Surely you've got some fancy tricks up your sleeve?โ He rested his own sword behind his shoulders before crouching downโ a vain attempt to meet your eye level.
With an unceremonious sound, you're readjusted and back on your feet. It was a struggle, considering the gore flowing from your head-wound and obscuring half of your vision.
โYou mean...?โ
โI'm sayin' you've not even used your shikai yet,โ he stroked his chin in faux thought. The bloodied fingertips stain his face, carelessly caressed into that long line of scar tissue. โAnd here I thought you really wanted to have some fun... You really are awful.โ
There's a beat of silence before a sweet sound caught Kenpachi off guardโ a raw, gargled laughter that had erupted from you. He tilted his head back only to look down at you further, eyeing you with a visible confusion on his otherwise rugged face. Had he really said something funny, or were you simply such a sick individual that you were revelling in his suffering?
โOh,โ you sputtered whilst trying to regain your composure, โKenpachi, Sir, what are you saying?โ With the back of your fist, you wipe away some of the filth that ran across your face. Still with that exhuasted smile, โI would never disrespect you like that, Captain.โ
The swordsman's eyes narrowed at you, his breathing picking up into a rampant, manic pace. There's that bitter feeling again, and it tasted like home.
โDisrespect?โ He lunged at you, each word laced with unbridled disdain. โYou refuse me for years upon years, battle each living thing you come across and ignore my offers just toโ What? Spite me?!โ
Theres a large, sudden slash toward your torso; One that you only barely dodge, the serrated edge of his blade catching and tearing your shihakushล. The force alone is enough to scrape your skin, and it stung like hell.
โAnd here you are talkin' about 'disrespect'.โ Kenpachi spat.
His spiritual pressure reached a tremendous height, a weight so strong that it nearly brought you to your knees, before receding slightly like a grand bonfire that had just now reached its peak.
You exhaled with a full-body shake, unsure of whether the cause was fear, awe, or longing.
โWith all due respect,โ you start with a hoarse voice, and deliver a swift, hard kick to the captain's stomach, launcing yourself a distance away with the momentum. As it stood, your blade was being used more for leverage than anything else. โI think it would be unprofessional to fight on those grounds. I did not spend so many years modelling my brawls after your own... just to fight you like that.โ
Kenpachi coughs up a mixture of blood and saliva, entirely unprepared for the blunt hitโ For a less bulky shinigami, you packed a hefty strength into your legs that could rival one of his own swings... Something he couldn't be happier to discover.
He inhales sharply, as if savouring every sense of the battle he could. โNow you're gettin' somewhere!โ
Seconds turned to minutes as you exchanged blows, and at some point between the heavy footsteps and the eerie scrape of your blades colliding you found yourself grasping your zanpakuto with both hands. It didn't escape your gaze the way that Kenpachi smirked when you finally caved into your old muscle memory, the vision of a perfect swordsman's stance.
Then, just as you were delivering a clean slice across his back with the use of a desperate, impulsive flash-step, you felt a cool metal tear into your arm. It had stopped and recoiled itself half-way, leaving the fat and muscle exposed to the air.
You didn't screamโ not at first. But you stilled. You choked, and your eyes welled with salty, glittering tears. You hurt all over. But you did not scream.
Only when you tore your eyes from your injury to the man that had caused it, with his savage, broad body casting a shadow over your own, blocking you from the blistering light of the sun, did you scream.
And with the gutteral screech that tore from your throat, you attacked. You thrust toward him with all your might, every aspect of your movement the practiced outcome of all your lived experience. And yet...
โHow gorgeous,โ he thought, mouth dry with desire.
And yet...
Kenpachi dodged, softly, simply stepping out of the way.
It wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't. You knew from the beginning it wouldn't be, and yet it was precisely the experience you had desired for so many years.
With a swift motion, you were suddenly floating, your legs kicked from underneath you before you could even register it.
In that time-stilled moment, you were sure you could see one another in the deepest sense possible. You could look through Zaraki's exterior and into each violent, mechanical microcosm of his soul. He was bearing it to you, through this fight. Through his blade. Mid-air, all you knew was the pulsing of your own body, and the magnificent sight of his.
โFinally,โ he screamed, his eyes utterly deranged and dilated. โYou're getting what you deserve!โ
He tilted his sword to the sky, and the blunt handle came down on your chest, battering you from the air and down, in microseconds, to the already brutalised ground.
A sickening crack echoed out.
It was over.
Your struggled breaths filled the silence of the courtyard, spine and skull ruptured into a bloody mess beneath you. The limb that had been struck in an attempt to brace yourself had parted from the rest of you and lay oozing, inches from your face. Still, as your vision started to dot with white, as adrenaline began to wane into sheer agony, you stared up at him.
Adoration, reverence, hatred, frustration.
Above you, Kenpachi breathed heavily, his movements heavy and slow as his face wore a devastating, emotion-filled smile.
โYou... fought well.โ He spoke with such a low timbre that the ground rumbled beneath you, still haloed by the light of the brightest star.
That praise, you hoped, would forever be the best send-off that anyone could be graced with.
Now the injuries he had sustained were taking a toll on him, as well. He pressed a hand against his chest and feverishly willed it to calm, but to no avail his torso continued to spasm beneath the flesh of his palms.
With a flick of his wrist, he clears his zanpakuto of the blood and skin that had accumulated along its serrated body. Then, his eyes began to draw across your form; a bruised, barely-living, hopeful thing.
And something new arose in him. A strange feeling which thrums from his chest and embeds itself into the fluids circling around his body.
It is regret and pride and a harrowing sadness. It is a sensation that burns through him entirely and marks him in a way that he may never be rid of.
โYaโchiru...โ Kenpachi whispered, tone grated with exhaustion.
From afar, a small, pink-haired girl crawled from the top branch of an old tree and landed elegantly on the ground. She took care to pat down her robes of the dirt and moss before scurrying over to her guardian.
Yachiru looked to you for a moment and a small, cat-like smile grew on her features. Then, turning her attention to Kenpachi, her body language turned visibly concerned.
He knelt graciously, allowing her to come much closer and survey the damage, whilst also allowing his knees to rest from the tremendous weight of battle.
She huffs with the manner of a tired babysitter; Looking over the lascerated cuts and scratches that Kenpachi had sustained.
โWow, Kenny... It looks like you really took a beating. You still beat 'em though, huh?โ Yachiru spoke, putting one of her tiny hands up to his forearm and dusting away some of the scorched dirt from his skin. When she speaks again, her voice turns small, โAre you gonna be... okay?โ
Kenpachi grumbles something incoherent, but raises a hand to wave off her concern.
โI'll manage,โ he says unconvincingly, one hand still cradling the shoulder wound you'd punctured him with. โBut... Do ya think you could go fetch Captain Unohana?โ
Yachiru tilts her head before she wraps her arms around Kenpachi's bicep, pulling him closer. โFor you?โ
โMmhm.โ He speaks with a profound, shuddering breath. โWell,โ he gestures his head towards your unblinking corpse, โfor both of us.โ
โKenny...โ Yachiru whispersโ She has an audible sadness catching in her throat. โI don't know if she's gonna be able toโโ
Kenpachi meets her glance with a pleading one of his own, and his daughter quietens at the sight.
โAsk her to try,โ he begs, voice hoarse from the yelling. โPlease.โ
Yachiru nods, and then disappears in a split-second, making her way across the grounds of the Seireitei with shunpo as fast as she could muster.
For the first time, it was just the two of you.
For the second time, Kenpachi's hatred was remoulded into something entirely different.
i also need you all to know the actual translation of "pebble" isnt like the small rock pebble, it does literally translate to "baby" and simon would hear it as "baby". i wrote "pebble" because grace translated eridian babies as "pebbles" for his own amusement. therefore: you, the viewer, get the grace terminology.
Simon came to live with you after he lost Johnny. You were one of the few civilians he was close with, one he could tolerate being around. The only one who knew some of what he'd been through.
"You need someone to keep an eye on you. You keep getting hurt. If you stay here, I'll keep you safe." He didn't believe you. You couldn't keep him safe when he couldn't even look out for himself. With Johnny gone, he didn't know where else to go but to your door.
"If you're going to live here, there's going to be some rules."
"I'm a grown man. I can look after myself."
You gave him a small reassuring smile, setting down his sectioned plate for dinner. "I know you can, sweetheart. But you aren't doing a really good job at it, are you?" He glares at you a little, but he knows you're right. "So, you're on my phone plan, I'm restricting your access to the news. I've noticed it stresses you out."
"I want to keep up to date with everything going on." He protests, almost irritated by your suggestion.
"I do too, but doom scrolling isn't the best way to get that. I have newspaper subscriptions, so you'll always have something to read. You can still watch the news, but it's better to unplug." Simon nods quietly at the explanation as he eats, looking at the sealed cup you'd gotten just for him.
He was already letting you take care of him, and you were doing it pretty well. Maybe he shouldn't protest so much. You gave him a routine. Up at five to work out with you and then help you feed the animals at six thirty before a shower and breakfast. He would sit on his porch for a few hours reading the papers, doing the cross work puzzles, and cutting out the comics he found funniest.
His favorite time was eleven thirty on the dot, when you started setting up afternoon tea. He didn't like the finger sandwiches you made, so you made him his own snack tray with ants on a log, apple slices with caramel, and peanut butter sandwiches without the crusts. Sometimes, you even included pieces of chocolate that he would let melt on his tongue.
You made sure his tea was cold in his vacuum sealed cup so it wouldn't spill. After noticing he didn't like getting things on his fingers, you bought some bug themed food skewers.
"What are these?" He grunts, picking up a small square of peanut butter sandwich by the ant skewer.
"It's your peanut butter sandwich, si." You tease, grinning at the deadpan look he gives you. "Food skewer. Keeps stuff off your fingers."
"They're for kids."
"If you're using them, then they are for you." You shrug as you take a sip of your tea. "Do you like them?" He grunts, eating his sandwich square in one bite. He watches as you grab one of your own, eyes narrowing curiously.
"Yours are heart-shaped." You catch the hint of longing in his tone, nodding in acknowledgment.
"Would you like yours cut like that tomorrow?"
"Yes." He agrees quickly, leaning back in his seat.
"Okay. Do you want to do a puzzle after tea time?" He nods, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, just watching the chickens feed.
@rawme-price helped with some of these brain worms every one that it for its help please:]]
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
gamechangershow
pixelskylines
prguitarman
gracieabrams
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
blakekathryn
