Bleach Drabble (431-432)
YES I'm supposed to be studying.
I hope this isn't a repeat of finals last year. o.o
431.
Title: Driving Blind
Rating: R
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuheixYumichika
Word Count: 572
Warning/s: Fluff!! But no spoilers I can really think of. I bet this whole thing doesn’t even make a lick of sense.
Summary: Yumichika keeps Shuuhei on his toes.
Dedication: electify and chibify- I’m sorry I’m such a stalker. XD Well, sort of sorry. KEEP IT UP PLEASE. Also for sophiap- I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR SHUUMI ANGST. I imagine I will cry like a little baby. ^^;;
A/N: Blah Shuumi has kind of been eating my brain and at the same time, not lately. I think I’ve passed my prime for writing it or something, especially knowing there are others out there who do it so much better than me. That of course, makes me unbelievably happy, and at the same time, feeling like I should leave my OTP in more capable hands. SO TORN.
He’s learned not to expect anything from Yumichika.
To do so only leads to folly, to the possibility of being relegated to couch duty for a week or two and lots of expensive presents by way of apology to earn his way back to bed.
If Yumichika is the ocean under a full moon tide then Shuuhei is a lone man on the haphazardly strung together log raft caught unawares in the middle of it.
Best to just hold on silently and hope that the maelstrom doesn’t tip his dingy over, ending the journey right there.
It’s taken him a while to realize this of course, but he’s learned eventually, that it’s best to never expect anything from the other man.
Expectations are exactly the sort of thing Yumi likes to crush between well-manicured fingers, twittering all the while.
Well, that just figures.
Shuuhei has discovered many things in this vein, has discovered for example, that carefully crafted words of love and adoration at best, will only earn him a giggle-“you’re silly”-and maybe a placating kiss on the forehead and some good-natured ribbing afterwards.
In contrast, mindless words in moments of stupid honesty seem to garner the most delight. One time he’d made-right after orgasm mind-a half-coherent comment murmured dazedly against the curve of Yumichika’s shoulder:--“Heh, like how you smell after… ‘s still you, but it’s me too”-- earning him the most dazzling smile, breakfast in bed, and the best damn good-morning ride he’d ever had.
Completely unpredictable.
Unbelievable.
Similarly, it’s little things that bring his lover to a blind rage- Shuuhei not using a coaster, Shuuhei tracking mud in, Shuuhei letting the mochi go stale-while it’s the bigger things-Shuuhei refusing to hold hands in public, Shuuhei gazing at Matsumoto’s chest, Shuuhei forgetting an anniversary- that can more easily be placated with a simple, heartfelt apology and a kiss.
It’s a real driving blind situation, as Ikkaku likes to call it.
“It’ll take me eternity to figure him out,” Shuuhei had declared one day at the bar after having been very decisively extricated from the house for once again, forgetting to take the rubbish out to the bin in time for trash day.
Ikkaku, having volunteered to keep the other man company at said bar for the five of six hours it would take for Yumichika to cool down, had snorted in laughter at his friend’s despondent, slightly tipsy announcement. “Forever, huh? Maybe that’s exactly what he’s goin’ for,” he’d suggested, half in jest.
Joking or no, Shuuhei had found himself stopping unexpectedly at that possibility, blinking incredulously to himself as he mulled his friend’s words over. “You think?”
“Che. Wouldn’t put it past him,” Ikkaku grunted, halfway through another cup. “He’s a wily bastard.”
Hisagi, despite the fact that he was very obviously banned from his own home for the time being, remembers that his face had split into a slow grin as realization had dawned, and heartily, he’d bought the next two or three rounds for himself and his friend with something akin to a jovial heart.
Ikkaku hadn’t complained of course, just drank the alcohol and asked, “The hell’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”
The dark-haired vice-captain had merely smiled enigmatically and decided that he was officially the luckiest shinigami in all seireitei.
Because if forever’s the case, Shuuhei can’t say that he minds Yumichika’s methods very much at all.
END
432.
Title: A Weight
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: Ryuuken, Uryuu
Word Count: 484
Warning/s: Um, not really, I guess. Though rampant speculation on my part.
Summary: The Quincy are dead.
Dedication: k_shi- Haha you are the biggest Ishida fan I know? XD
A/N: I should be writing the fic I owe, but this hit me and I figure, screw it, I’ve done most of the requests anyway. Right. Totally working on your YYH though Ann, I swear! You just know it’s harder for me to write YYH as fast as Bleach. But anyway.
“The Quincy are dead.”
He takes great care not to look at the boy’s face when he tells him that simple fact, goes through the motions of flipping through a book or a sheave of papers on his desk when it comes to this familiar nonsense again.
Uryuu has large, sad eyes and a weight on his young shoulders that no little boy ought to bear.
Ryuuken thinks-hopes-that he can lift that burden from his son before much longer, before his grandfather’s foolishness can seep in too deep and rob Uryuu of peace, as it had him many years before.
“They’re not…”
“There is no purpose,” Ryuuken continues blankly, adjusting his glasses and pushing the book in his hand back onto the shelf-- blindly perused. “The shinigami were created to battle Hollows.” A breath, then eyes sliding slowly over that tiny form she fought with her last breath to bring into this world. “Little boys should do their schoolwork.”
Uryuu’s gaze is instantly averted when his father looks at him, to the ground or the round tips of impossibly small little-boy sneakers.
Ryuuken sighs, and though it sounds long-suffering to Uryuu, to the older Quincy it is more a father’s prayer- if he must, I hope the worst thing he will ever bow his head to is me.
He does not want the weight of an entire race upon so tiny a pair of shoulders.
It is a responsibility much too heavy to bear, and Ryuuken has learned with time and wisdom- drops of his idealism slowly seeping from the wounds on his body out across the floor-that one cannot heft this tremendous weight by himself.
Those dearest pay as well, share in the burden whether they wish to or not, and Ryuuken will not have Uryuu know the pain of losing someone precious because he is something as trite as “last of the Quincy.”
She’d smiled at him back when they’d both had ideals-“People need you… a real hero”- beaming up at him with wide eyes that couldn’t possibly understand while the weight had slowly crushed her.
A hero to all but those who truly mattered perhaps, and looking at Uryuu now, small and delicate and as wide-eyed as she had been, Ryuuken can’t help but vow to himself that he won’t allow himself to fall to the same folly twice.
Now, the only burden Ryuuken truly wants is fatherhood.
And all he wants for the sad-eyed little boy who is scuffing the toes of his shoes against the floor is childhood.
“Uryuu, please cease your fidgeting and go to your studies. Use your energies productively.”
“Yes, father.”
Ryuuken, watching him go from the corners of tired eyes, slides another book-- flipped through but unseen-into its rightful place on his shelf.
The Quincy are dead.
And in their place, Ryuuken hopes that his wide-eyed little boy will survive.
END
EDITS PLEASE.
RIGHT STUDYING NOW.
I hope this isn't a repeat of finals last year. o.o
431.
Title: Driving Blind
Rating: R
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuheixYumichika
Word Count: 572
Warning/s: Fluff!! But no spoilers I can really think of. I bet this whole thing doesn’t even make a lick of sense.
Summary: Yumichika keeps Shuuhei on his toes.
Dedication: electify and chibify- I’m sorry I’m such a stalker. XD Well, sort of sorry. KEEP IT UP PLEASE. Also for sophiap- I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR SHUUMI ANGST. I imagine I will cry like a little baby. ^^;;
A/N: Blah Shuumi has kind of been eating my brain and at the same time, not lately. I think I’ve passed my prime for writing it or something, especially knowing there are others out there who do it so much better than me. That of course, makes me unbelievably happy, and at the same time, feeling like I should leave my OTP in more capable hands. SO TORN.
He’s learned not to expect anything from Yumichika.
To do so only leads to folly, to the possibility of being relegated to couch duty for a week or two and lots of expensive presents by way of apology to earn his way back to bed.
If Yumichika is the ocean under a full moon tide then Shuuhei is a lone man on the haphazardly strung together log raft caught unawares in the middle of it.
Best to just hold on silently and hope that the maelstrom doesn’t tip his dingy over, ending the journey right there.
It’s taken him a while to realize this of course, but he’s learned eventually, that it’s best to never expect anything from the other man.
Expectations are exactly the sort of thing Yumi likes to crush between well-manicured fingers, twittering all the while.
Well, that just figures.
Shuuhei has discovered many things in this vein, has discovered for example, that carefully crafted words of love and adoration at best, will only earn him a giggle-“you’re silly”-and maybe a placating kiss on the forehead and some good-natured ribbing afterwards.
In contrast, mindless words in moments of stupid honesty seem to garner the most delight. One time he’d made-right after orgasm mind-a half-coherent comment murmured dazedly against the curve of Yumichika’s shoulder:--“Heh, like how you smell after… ‘s still you, but it’s me too”-- earning him the most dazzling smile, breakfast in bed, and the best damn good-morning ride he’d ever had.
Completely unpredictable.
Unbelievable.
Similarly, it’s little things that bring his lover to a blind rage- Shuuhei not using a coaster, Shuuhei tracking mud in, Shuuhei letting the mochi go stale-while it’s the bigger things-Shuuhei refusing to hold hands in public, Shuuhei gazing at Matsumoto’s chest, Shuuhei forgetting an anniversary- that can more easily be placated with a simple, heartfelt apology and a kiss.
It’s a real driving blind situation, as Ikkaku likes to call it.
“It’ll take me eternity to figure him out,” Shuuhei had declared one day at the bar after having been very decisively extricated from the house for once again, forgetting to take the rubbish out to the bin in time for trash day.
Ikkaku, having volunteered to keep the other man company at said bar for the five of six hours it would take for Yumichika to cool down, had snorted in laughter at his friend’s despondent, slightly tipsy announcement. “Forever, huh? Maybe that’s exactly what he’s goin’ for,” he’d suggested, half in jest.
Joking or no, Shuuhei had found himself stopping unexpectedly at that possibility, blinking incredulously to himself as he mulled his friend’s words over. “You think?”
“Che. Wouldn’t put it past him,” Ikkaku grunted, halfway through another cup. “He’s a wily bastard.”
Hisagi, despite the fact that he was very obviously banned from his own home for the time being, remembers that his face had split into a slow grin as realization had dawned, and heartily, he’d bought the next two or three rounds for himself and his friend with something akin to a jovial heart.
Ikkaku hadn’t complained of course, just drank the alcohol and asked, “The hell’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”
The dark-haired vice-captain had merely smiled enigmatically and decided that he was officially the luckiest shinigami in all seireitei.
Because if forever’s the case, Shuuhei can’t say that he minds Yumichika’s methods very much at all.
END
432.
Title: A Weight
Rating: PG
Pairing/Character/s: Ryuuken, Uryuu
Word Count: 484
Warning/s: Um, not really, I guess. Though rampant speculation on my part.
Summary: The Quincy are dead.
Dedication: k_shi- Haha you are the biggest Ishida fan I know? XD
A/N: I should be writing the fic I owe, but this hit me and I figure, screw it, I’ve done most of the requests anyway. Right. Totally working on your YYH though Ann, I swear! You just know it’s harder for me to write YYH as fast as Bleach. But anyway.
“The Quincy are dead.”
He takes great care not to look at the boy’s face when he tells him that simple fact, goes through the motions of flipping through a book or a sheave of papers on his desk when it comes to this familiar nonsense again.
Uryuu has large, sad eyes and a weight on his young shoulders that no little boy ought to bear.
Ryuuken thinks-hopes-that he can lift that burden from his son before much longer, before his grandfather’s foolishness can seep in too deep and rob Uryuu of peace, as it had him many years before.
“They’re not…”
“There is no purpose,” Ryuuken continues blankly, adjusting his glasses and pushing the book in his hand back onto the shelf-- blindly perused. “The shinigami were created to battle Hollows.” A breath, then eyes sliding slowly over that tiny form she fought with her last breath to bring into this world. “Little boys should do their schoolwork.”
Uryuu’s gaze is instantly averted when his father looks at him, to the ground or the round tips of impossibly small little-boy sneakers.
Ryuuken sighs, and though it sounds long-suffering to Uryuu, to the older Quincy it is more a father’s prayer- if he must, I hope the worst thing he will ever bow his head to is me.
He does not want the weight of an entire race upon so tiny a pair of shoulders.
It is a responsibility much too heavy to bear, and Ryuuken has learned with time and wisdom- drops of his idealism slowly seeping from the wounds on his body out across the floor-that one cannot heft this tremendous weight by himself.
Those dearest pay as well, share in the burden whether they wish to or not, and Ryuuken will not have Uryuu know the pain of losing someone precious because he is something as trite as “last of the Quincy.”
She’d smiled at him back when they’d both had ideals-“People need you… a real hero”- beaming up at him with wide eyes that couldn’t possibly understand while the weight had slowly crushed her.
A hero to all but those who truly mattered perhaps, and looking at Uryuu now, small and delicate and as wide-eyed as she had been, Ryuuken can’t help but vow to himself that he won’t allow himself to fall to the same folly twice.
Now, the only burden Ryuuken truly wants is fatherhood.
And all he wants for the sad-eyed little boy who is scuffing the toes of his shoes against the floor is childhood.
“Uryuu, please cease your fidgeting and go to your studies. Use your energies productively.”
“Yes, father.”
Ryuuken, watching him go from the corners of tired eyes, slides another book-- flipped through but unseen-into its rightful place on his shelf.
The Quincy are dead.
And in their place, Ryuuken hopes that his wide-eyed little boy will survive.
END
EDITS PLEASE.
RIGHT STUDYING NOW.