#tut)d

“Are your bites nicer than a demon’s?” (Kanae for Sanemi)

W-WHA—

Okay, Sanemi. Now's not the time to stutter like a bitch. Pull yourself together and just— Say something cool, dammit!

*ahem*

"I-I guess that...depends. Y'know, uhh... Does this person I'm biting taste good?"

...well shit, Loser. Nobody said anything about biting A FELLOW HUMAN BEING.

*GASP!*

He woke up panting; sweating drops of marbles—his thoughts scrambling to gather itself from the nightmare that had somehow lulled the ice-cold Snake Hashira deep in his slumber, for God knew however long at this point. Clothed within what one would be quick to recognize was the infamous Butterfly Estate's sickly pajama set, his muscles were far from warding off pain; soreness haunting the pillar's every move as he dragged his body out of bed, in search for his partner on the mission that had him completely knocked out in the first place.

"MISS KANROJI!!!"

His voice, coarse from a throat that had been cut out of commission for an embarrassing amount of time, echoed throughout the corridor as mismatched pools caught a glimpse of her mind-numbingly gorgeous braids; languidly swept by the gentle evening wind while she was relaxing by the engawa, slender legs dangling in a ceremonious manner off its edge.

It was only then that his lungs gave up on the sad, theatrical melodrama he tried to pull; petite figure falling upon timber surface with a loud thud in a violent coughing fit.

At his nonchalant remark, she couldn’t help but untied the knot that was her frown and let out a brief sigh as a gentle smile bloomed across her lips. Planting a peck on his unwounded cheek, she was swift to search their first aid cabinet afterwards and equip herself with a cotton ball to help stop his bleeding.

@windstormwielding​ said:

☁ = being caught in the middle a storm with them ( !!!!!!!! )

Send a symbol for my muse’s reaction to your muse—

“Darling, wait—”

Had it been like any other typical summer date at the theme park with the sun beaming in all its glory, a simple race in their gigai for old time’s sake wouldn’t have sounded like a bad idea, no. Unfortunately for the lieutenant of the 10th, however, the storm decided to rain on her parade—in both its literal and figurative senses—on the one day off she had managed to earn from her captain in order to finally savor the long-overdue trip to the world of the living with her dearly beloved.

Maybe she was, indeed, to blame for her own hesitation—but how could she not, when her darling’s spellbinding smile that gleamed as he practically danced in his element robbed her off her selfish urge to tell him the murkiest of her memories that would awaken with the sound of the raging thunder? Of those lonely hours where she’d felt smaller than she’d already been, clutching onto her legs in her safe corner, trying to escape the seeping water and wind’s umpteenth attempt to engulf her along with their decaying shack while she’d waited for her scrawny little friend to come home to her rescue; from wherever he’d run off to without a word again earlier that day?

Surely she knew better than to ever dare ruining her beau’s joy with just another centuries-old woe of hers—especially now, of all the worst possible timings. So then it was with a heavy heart that the vixen eventually jogged behind the casting shadow of her favorite silver strands; plump lips all trembling—almost as if they had been chanting a secret prayer that she wished no one but whatever divine power in charge for the weather to eavesdrop.

And of course... Of course it had to happen—the rumbling cacophony that shook the ground beneath her feet and got her feeling unbearably weak in the knees. She wanted to scream, and yet nothing came out—probably because before she even knew it, Rangiku already had her arms wrapped around Kōtarō’s body; face buried in the dampened fabric that was his human-style clothing.

“Gotcha~” was the only decipherable word to leave her throat in that very moment; whereas the rest dispersed into whispers, muffled by her jagged breathing and the statics that was the drizzle of the generous downpour.