An excerpt from the most recent draft, presented with no context. This fic is very silly.
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"Unfairly Attractive New Guy-san raced off to save you from the hollow," Matsu said then, in a much more normal tone of voice. The way she said 'unfairly attractive new guy' made it sound one hundred per cent like a title.
Ichigo went stiff. His face felt hot. "Don't call me that!"
"Don't call him that," echoed Airi from the ground, "in front of him," she added.
Ichigo, who had been perfectly calm throughout his confrontation with the spider hollow, felt sweat break out on the back of his neck.
Matsu frowned. She noticed her kerchief was askew and pulled it off her riotous curls to reapply it. "Well, what's your name then? What else am I supposed to call you, if you're so rude you don't even give us your name?"
"Not that," hissed Ichigo. "It's Kurosaki Ichigo!" He thumped his chest. "I-chi-go!"
"Hey. Ichigo-san." Airi had made no move to get up, and she looked exhausted on the ground there. "How… did you save me?"
"He killed it! He punched it right in its ugly mask. I thought we were all done for," Matsu rambled. "Unfairly Attractive Ichigo-san is even more useful than I previously suspected."
He twitched. "I just told you not to call me that!"
She turned and pointed at him. Her expression was surprisingly fierce, and he reeled back. Her pointy finger jabbed his chest.
"No. You can't expect to swoop in and rescue a lady from certain death like this and have no effect! You think you can still say, 'Oh, look at me, I'm Ugly Ichigo-san?' No! You take responsibility for your actions!"
"What? I don't want to be Ugly Ichigo-san either!"
"Make up your mind!"
Despite her exhaustion, Airi managed to raise her hands far enough to cast them over her eyes.
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But while the Eleventh Division barracks always smell like old, sour sweat, Yumichika's smells… clean. As if he'd showered, then immediately begun to perspire. Which was almost certainly the case. And it's a good smell, masculine and vital, mixed in with the last gasp of his delicate rose-scented soap and the softness of his hands and lips… and the dichotomy between male and female that Yumichika embodies within himself has never been more evident.
Shuuhei doesn't know if he'll ever tell him how much he loves that about him.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Mid-mednin-training Sakura is somehow transported to Hueco Mundo. This is now Grimmjow’s problem.
(Or, more likely, Grimmjow’s solution is now everyone else’s problem)
The Evitable Solution
Grimmjow was sulking.
This was not his own word for what was happening. In his own view, he was suffering under the weight of his righteous but impotent anger. But if you asked the others who made Las Noches their home? Definitely sulking.
Sympathy for the fallen and the disgraced wasn't exactly common among arrancar.
I don't want sound weird but about your big aizen au there are few fics in tumblr you can find them with 'giant aizen' and in ao3 there in a fic called 'titan'(there are two parts actully)
By the way thanks for your beautiful and lovelable ideas and thoughts please never stop and keep going💖
this doesn't sound weird at all anon! thank you so much for the fic recs and the very kind words you've said to me <3 i'll check them out!
excerpts from the 'Ichigo moves in next to Ishida' concept —
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"Are you saying you wouldn't help me move, Kurosaki? How boorish of you," [Ishida Uryū] sniffed, hefting one of the boxes of books.
Ichigo bristled. "Don't put words in my mouth."
The book boxes were heavy. Ichigo looked at his own larger but lighter load, felt some kind of way, and grudgingly took another box.
So Ishida scowled and picked up a second one. Goddammit.
They stood beside the moving truck, staring at each other, each equally stubborn and pugnacious.
"When are you going off to study medicine again?" Ichigo asked pointedly.
Ishida's shoulders went all stiff. "I'm not."
"You're not? You didn't get in?" That was so surprising that Ichigo forgot to needle him about it, and he felt his scowl smooth out as he blinked. Ishida had been at the top of their class rankings for the last three years. He'd gotten better grades while infiltrating an ancient military empire than Keigo had while juggling homework with the dire responsibility of cleaning his room.
Then, a waft of tobacco smoke announced Ishida Ryūken's presence the moment before he spoke.
"He got in," he said, prowling around the side of the truck and collecting a table from its insides. He hefted it onto a shoulder and started walking towards the goods elevator. He didn't look at either of them, not really. Ryūken was enthusiastic about staring straight through people. "He's decided to continue burdening his remaining family instead."
"And he's very proud of me," said Uryū, glasses flashing despite the low light of the parking area.
Ryūken sighed out a plume of smoke, like an answer.
Ichigo squinted between them. "Uh-huh," he said neutrally.
"I'll take the next elevator," Ryūken drawled. He finally seemed to be looking at Ichigo, but it was mostly at his feet, where the hems of his 'appropriate-for-chores' jeans had gotten ragged.
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Rating: M (18+)
Franchise: Bleach
Pair: Ichimaru Gin x Matsumoto Rangiku
Fic Type: Oneshot
Summary: Thirty minutes, that was all Gin permitted himself to go through the portal from Hueco Mundo to Seireitei to stalk Rangiku, but he underestimated her ability to sense him no matter how far he strayed.
A/N:
hi friends! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) this is my first time to write about my ULTIMATE favorite ship in Bleach, I hope I gave them justice. I always wanted to write Gin a bit more passionate while still navigating his canon characteristics, and this was my best attempt (so far, there will be more in the future lol!)
rated 18+ bc they lowkey get a lil freaky HAHAHA enjoy!!
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚
Dusk encased Seireitei as training rooms and meeting rooms quieted down for the night. But as certain quarters emptied, izakayas and food kiosks bustled around the outskirts of the walled city. This was the real Soul Society, where merchants barked for attention, streets bustled even beyond sun down, and drunken soul reapers filled the crowds with their boisterous merriment.
Tonight, Matsumoto Rangiku was at the center of it all.
There they sat in a small Izakaya tucked in between a yakiniku place and a street food kiosk. Rangiku was able to convince Kira, Shuhei, and Nanao that drinks and skewers were the best way to end a grueling week, and who could say no to an ever-persistent Rangiku?
The Izakaya was well-lit, but the warm lighting made everything seem easy on the eyes. A few other soul reapers were there, mixed together with Soul Society’s commonfolk. All classes united in this small place, brought together by the clinging scent of grilled meat, alcohol breath, and the lingering notes of cedar. The interior’s humidity was a welcome sensation to combat the night’s cold.
“Kanpai!” Rangiku beamed as she raised her ceramic shot glass. Sake, her oldest friend. “We survived another week of hell!”
Nanao reluctantly raised her glass, along with Kira. Shuhei, however, enthusiastically raised his and clinked it immediately with Rangiku’s. “Kanpai!” He said a little too loudly. Realizing he was the only one other than Rangiku who seemed spirited, he retracted and drank the shot straight.
“Matsumoto, you should ease down a bit,” Nanao said, looking at the near-emptying sake bottle – mostly thanks to Rangiku’s contributions. “How many have you had since we got here? Seireitei is a bit of a hike from here.”
Rangiku barked and threw her head back. “Nonsense, Nanao-chan!” She was getting louder by the minute. “I can make it back. Besides, Shuhei can always carry me, right?” Her voice shifted to a flirtier tone – a method that worked with most male soul reapers.
“R–right! Of course. I mean, as long as you’re safe–” Shuhei stammered as he gulped down nervously.
“That’s not what I meant! Rangiku, this isn’t like you. Sure you always drank, but isn’t this a bit much?” Nanao’s brows creased as she took the bottle and shot glass away from Rangiku. “That’s enough.”
Rangiku pouted and crossed her arms. “You’re no fun, Nanao-chan! I’ll tell Kyoraku how much of a buzzkill you are!”
The two boys, Kira and Shuhei, tried to laugh off the tension. Nanao simply sighed and shook her head. “Fine. Do what you will.”
Rangiku always drank a lot – this was a known fact by all her colleagues, especially by her captain Toshiro. But ever since Gin’s defection to side with Aizen, those closest to Rangiku noticed her drinking habits have doubled, if not tripled, than usual. She would drink on the job often, her slacking off had also lost all cheekiness to it as she would not make the same remarks as she did before. No more “Pretty people should not be stressed out,” or “Sorry, the couch was seducing me.” Nowadays, it was a simple nod and her saying “I will make sure it never happens again.”
But it does happen, over and over.
Just like Gin leaving, over and over.
Why is it so easy for him to leave me, over and over?
──────────────────
The final assembly among Arrancars had been concluded. Gin made his way past the hallway, past the rash looks from the other Arrancars, and past Aizen himself. Gin simply stated he had something urgent to check in the portal quarters, and Aizen had permitted him. Gin was not entirely sure if Aizen trusted him, or if he silently allowed Gin this one transgression, but he did not care for it. For the first time since Gin’s defection, he was not calculating his advantage in the situation.
He just wanted to see her.
He knew he had exactly thirty minutes to get this right. The portal room was cold, only the thrum of the circular gateway’s energy could be heard. Thirty minutes, Gin thought to himself, so that Aizen would not suspect a thing. He did not know what to say, what to do, all he knew was that he needed to see his reminder as to why he had done all this to begin with.
──────────────────
The four lieutenants made their way back to Seireitei, but Rangiku sensed a disturbance in spiritual pressure further down the woods.
“Nanao,” Rangiku tries to stern down her voice, “I think I need to take a break here. I can sit by the lake. You guys go ahead. I just need some air.”
Shuhei was the first to react. He came closer to Rangiku and gently held her shoulder. “Are you sure? Because I can wait for you. Really, it’s not a bother–”
Rangiku held his hand and slowly slid it down back to his side. “It’s okay, Shuhei. Please. I can manage.”
Nanao’s eyes widened at Rangiku’s insistence, but she knew the effort it took for Rangiku to keep this exuberant mask on for the rest of them. She sighed and nodded. “Okay, Rangiku. Just send us a message when you’ve returned.”
The three lieutenants made their way back. Shuhei reluctantly walked away as he took one last look at Rangiku before jogging uphill to keep up with the group.
Rangiku looked down and let out a sharp exhale. She was alone, once again. Was there anything new to this? She could be surrounded by her friends and colleagues the entire day, she could annoy Toshiro just for kicks and appear carefree, but at the end of the day, she walked home alone, she undressed, bathed, and slept alone. She was the sun to those around her in Seireitei – so why did she always find herself alone in the dead of night?
Gin had often been described as a snake in nature, and so he slithered down the crevices of the forest trail, seemingly looking for his next prey. Who would dare love a snake such as him? Shinigamis either feared him or simply showed disdain towards him, except for one. The one.
Rangiku, my Rangiku.
The shrubberies and loose twigs showed no challenge at all for him as he flowed freely past them. He could sense it getting closer – a reiatsu only she could carry. Light, but fierce when need be; that was Rangiku for him. He believed up to this point that protecting her happiness meant keeping his distance and leaving eventually; to team up with the enemy who took part of her soul away so that he can one day take revenge. Since then, Gin quietly stood by Rangiku from the shadows, making her the center-point of his moral compass.
In an ideal world, Gin would have wanted to simply stay by her side and make sure no harm ever reached that soft fiery hair of hers he always loved.
But Soul Society was not an ideal world.
Gin stopped in his tracks as he finally saw her from a distance. He was behind a tall shrub, and so he crouched down to see her better. The moonlight touched her light skin and gave it a softer hue. From where he was hiding, she seemed ethereal – but in his eyes she always has, even when they were kids, and even when she lost part of her soul. Even then–especially then–she was beautiful. Otherworldly. Gin knew from an early age that he was in love with her, but how was he able to express that in a way that would not hurt her? How could he say he loved her when he had already believed that betrayal and violence were the only tenets in his nature?
He looked at her more intently, his eyes peered heavily past the shrubbery and past the distance. My Rangiku, always so beautiful. And yet, her eyes seemed distant, as though gazing into a void of nothingness and not the serene view the forest offered.
Was it his doing?
He tried to keep his spiritual pressure at a neutral state, but as he saw Rangiku without her usual spark, a new sensation had occurred inside him. It wasn’t the rage he felt when he first saw her abandoned in a forest similar to this setting when they were but mere children. No. This was different.
He felt his chest ache in a way that it hasn’t in a hundred years. His arms felt as though they wanted to reach out and hold her, just hold her, until everything was forgotten and forgiven. He wanted to feel her skin on his lips as he whispered his apologies to every part of her body. He wanted to feel her tears seep through his clothes until she hushed completely.
Rangiku then jolted up.
Her eyes widened as she looked around the forest. Shit, she knew. Of course she knew. She stood up and turned her head from one side to the other. “G–” she tried speaking his name, but it would not come out. Would she dare, after all this time? After everything he’s done?
She steps forward for only a fraction, small branches crackling under her step. Only the hum of cicadas and croaking of frogs could be heard in the night, but she felt it. She felt it in the way her heart throbbed as though it wanted to escape her chest.
Finally, she mustered up the courage to say it.
“Gin…?”
Tears built up in her eyes. She couldn’t believe it. He slowly emerged from the sea of trees and bushes. He now wore his Espada uniform – his chest open and a familiar white cloak, except it was not the white cloak of a captain. To Rangiku, it was the coat of a traitor.
Gin is a traitor, that’s what she told herself, over and over again. Gin is a traitor, so why did her heart pound harder as she looked at him? Why did she feel the urge to run to him and wrap her arms around him, forgiving years of repeated abandonment?
Right now, Gin faced her fully. All she’s ever known was the sight of his back walking away. His eyes were slanted shut, but he did not wear his signature smirk. His mouth was slightly agape, solemn.
“Rangiku.”
Both felt as though their feet were planted on the ground. Gin, for all his strength and coyness, did not know what to do. He had simply intended to watch her, see how she was doing. Thirty minutes of watching her, that’s it. He did not expect her to detect him in an instant.
“What are you doing here?” Rangiku forces to break through the suffocating silence growing between them, as though holding the entire forest hostage.
“I don’t know,” Gin’s expression remained stoic, but Rangiku sensed a crack in his voice.
She was the first to take a step forward. Raising her foot to move was akin to carrying steel. Rangiku clutched her zanpakuto as she moved. She knew Gin would not harm her; if Rangiku could bet on anything in the world, it would be that. Gin would not physically harm her, despite how many times he has hurt her every time he walked away. The painful irony of it all is that Gin believed his absence was for the best.
“You don’t know?” Her brows scrunch together. She balls her fist on one hand and clutches her zanpakuto harder on the other. “You disappear again and then just show up, and you say you don’t know what you want?”
“I wanted to see you.”
Rangiku scoffs and wipes a tear, the flow becoming uncontrollable now. “So you just do what you want?”
“Rangiku, please–”
“No, don’t ‘Rangiku, please’ me! Just–” She gritted her teeth and came closer until they were at an arm’s length. “Do you have any idea how it felt like watching you leave me again? Do you have any idea how it was for me waking up every day since then?” Gin was about to retort, but Rangiku kept talking, the leftover alcohol in her system taking over. “You don’t get to disappear and then come back whenever you want, Gin! You just don’t. You…” her chest began heaving. She stepped a fraction closer and hit his shoulder. “Why? Why come back at all? Just to taunt me? Just to see that I’m not doing well?”
“You’re not doing well…?”
“No!” She scowled with her voice strained. “In what world would I do well with you leaving me over and over again?!” She began sobbing uncontrollably.
Gin finally closed the gap and wrapped his arms around her. He squeezed his eyes shut harder as he buried his head on her hair. She smelled of grilled meat from the izakaya, but her signature floral perfume fought through the notes. He embraced her tighter, pushing her body against his. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs in her hair. “I’m sorry, Rangiku. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how bad it affected you.”
He turned to kiss her forehead. He still whispered against her soft skin. “I’m sorry,” his voice turned lower and more rasped. Rangiku heaved and cried as she looked up to him. He didn’t stop even after their eyes met. He kissed the tip of her nose, “I’m sorry,” as he gripped her shihakusho tighter. He kissed her neck, letting his hot breath spread through her skin. “I’m sorry,” he said, as he kissed the same spot. “Rangiku…”
Rangiku’s knees buckled, but Gin held her tighter. “I got you, Rangiku. I got you,” he ran his hand gently on her back, afraid he might break her. He eased in that Kansai-ben he knew Rangiku loved hearing. “I’m sorry,” he lost count of how many times he’s said that.
“Stop saying ‘sorry’ if you’re just going to leave again,” Rangiku finally managed to say with a stern voice. “It’s not going to work this time, Gin. You can’t just look at me a certain way and expect me to be okay.”
He grazed his thumb on her cheek as he gently wiped a tear away. “I promised you I’d become a Soul Reaper so you wouldn’t cry anymore,” he kissed the part where the tear stained. “And I failed. I failed you, Rangiku. I’m sorry.”
“Just do something, Gin. Please. Just do something. Stop saying you’re sorry–”
Gin met her words with his lips as he pressed ever so gently. It began with a graze, then a full press until he could feel it fully – supple and moist. It tasted of sake and a taste that was uniquely her. He met Rangiku’s tongue with his, the wet sensation sent jolts of heat through their system. Rangiku gripped the front of his coat and pulled him closer, and he gripped Rangiku’s hair from the back and pressed her face harder on his. His hand splayed on the small of her back and dug through her shihakusho.
The taste of each other, mixed with the salt of tears now falling from both their eyes, made Gin’s self-control fray at the edges. He began breathing more raggedly as he grabbed Rangiku and carried her towards a large oak tree, pinning her there. He grabbed her by the back more tightly and pressed her harder onto him. A moan escaped Rangiku, but he caught it with his mouth. Rangiku gripped at the front of his coat once more and pulled him closer, closer, afraid that if she opened her eyes and let go for just a fraction, he would disappear. Please, please don’t disappear on me. Please. Not again. Please.
“You’ve been drinking,” Gin rasped out as he went deeper into the kiss, his tongue tasting every crevice of Rangiku’s mouth. “I’ll make it better, Rangiku. I promise,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek, then down to her neck again. Rangiku moaned once more and shut her eyes. Her knuckles turned white from how tight she was holding onto Gin.
Tears continued to fall from Gin’s eyes as he moved and cupped Rangiku’s face. “I love you, Rangiku,” his voice was ragged and strained as his eyes, now fully open, peered into hers. “I love you. I’m sorry.”
Rangiku wrapped her arms tighter around him. “I love you, Gin.”
He whispered on her skin again, his words muffled, but Rangiku understood completely. “Tell me what you want me to do. If you want me to stay, or if you want me to go back–”
“Stay.”
Gin exhaled sharply, releasing the tension of the past fifteen minutes. “Okay, Rangiku. Okay.”
“What do you mean – okay?”
“I’ll stay.”
And with that, his ultimatum of thirty minutes were forgotten.
ooc traitorous trio alert, gin looking through their search histories (nothing naughty sadly), let's pretend this stuff already exists pls
Getting under AIZEN's wing was simpler than most would imagine. The real difficulty lied in constraining the urge to kill him. TOSEN was not easy to get around either. But GIN had to wait. What better way to pass the time than to use the family computa?
--
<First Peek>
Soft clacking of keys resound throughout the underground lab, accompanied by the low humming and whirring of research equipment. As a final confirmation of whatever he was doing, Aizen clicks on his mouse and sighs, apparently taxed with finding no conclusive results for the day.
"Seems like you're stumped, Lieutentant Aizen. Maybe ya should take a break?"
"Perhaps I should." The brunette adjusts his frames before rising from his seat, "In the mean time, I trust you'll look after the lab for a bit?"
His gentle smile settles on Gin, belying his wretched character. This was not a request, obviously...
"Don't got nothin' better to do. Those guys don't look fun to hangout with, anyway." Gin replies and glances over to the capsules containing disfigured Hollow specimens. It seems like anyone who's useful to Aizen is doomed, Shinigami or not.
With an obscure glint in his eyes, Aizen wordlessly exits the room, sparing no effort to look back at the silver beast behind him. Once hearing the gate's mechanism lock in place, the boy's grin slackens into a subtle frown.
"Now, what to do?..."
Gin surveys the room with disinterest until determining that fooling around on the computer would ease his boredom. The first thing he notices is nothing special, other than Aizen's penchant for a certain hue.
"Geez, this place is already purple enough. Why's he gotta make everything on here the same color, too? Oh, well, at least some of 'em are in different shades..."
He continues shuffling around the open tabs, which are filled with nothing but reports about failed Hollowfications. Clickclickclickclickclick. And exits out of all of them. They should've been auto-saved already, but if they weren't, well...
Deciding that a search browser would be a harmless venture, he clicks on its icon and the site unceremoniously loads in.
"Hmm. How about..."
His cursor hovers over the search bar to type in 'people falling compilation,' but pauses when he sees a list of previous entries:
—
justice
why is my captain giving me mixed signals
justice
proper way to aura farm in front of your rival
why are blondes kissable and punchable psychology
how to make your captain like you
zanpakuto soul-fusion techniques
—
...
Why is there only one thing related to their research on here? Gin scratches his head at this, but before he can do anything else, Tosen enters the vicinity and scolds him for slacking off, "It's my turn to use the computer."
The older Shinigami shoos him away and politely shifts onto the seat. He takes a deep breath and leans closer to the monitor, as if waiting for something to appear. Five seconds pass. Then ten. Then—
"Justice."
"...What?"
--
<Many, many peeks later...>
"I'll be out for a while. Look after the lab for me."
"Sure thing, Captain Aizen."
The trio was finally reaching a critical point in their artifical Hollow research after several decades. Of course, Gin couldn't care less about the results. So, he engages in a rather mundane pastime—that is, playing on the computer again.
—
Soulfari search history results:
tofu steak recipe
best hair gel for men
secret to conquering boiled eggs
utilizing attraction psychology
JUSTICE
how to accept loneliness
will i be alone forever
JUSTICEJUSTICEJUSTICEJUS
—
"Just a buncha nonsense this time." He stares blankly at the queue for a moment, particularly at the 'loneliness' bit, but disregards it shortly. "Guess I'll destroy some noobs in DBD now."
And so he does. Because he's Ichimaru Gin.
--
I couldn't stop thinking about this fic idea from @bleachplease ! Hope u enjoy.. aheheheh...
For those who don't know, DBD stands for Dead by Daylight, and i think gin would absolutely demolish everyone in that game, either as survivor or killer. In general, i think he would be good at any game on any platform. Could even be in tournaments, idk! Mama aizen does limit his screen time ofc. And tosen.. he just needs another outlet. Can u blame him.
