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the-kr8tor · 9 months

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Hi, could you do domestic fluff Hobie x reader where they stargaze on his boat and the artist reader shows off their sketchbook, maybe even draws him!🥹

Hi hun! I have a similar fic that I've been working on (the reader showing Hobie her sketchbook) so I added in your prompt (stargazing part) since we had the same idea (great minds think alike 😏), hope you don't mind! Thank you for requesting ❤️

Pairing: Hobie brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

There's a city-wide brownout, the usual lights in historic London are all off, the entire city enjoys a rare sight in the night sky. Without the light pollution that usually presides over the city, the stars in the sky shine brightly, blanketing the dark sky in twinkling star lights. There's no cloud in sight, therefore nothing could cover the magnificent view.

Hobie's houseboat is littered with candles, providing a romantic light on his 'porch'.

You sigh longingly for the fifth time that night, neck craning up, staring at Orion's belt. You lift your eyes off the constellation for a second to finish your sketch of Orion, pointing your little torch on the page. Your hand expertly shade in the drawing. The well loved sketchbook is filled to the brim with various drawings– some landscapes, food, dogs you encounter and an embarrassing amount of Hobie.

The pages are covered with him, whether he's sitting with a guitar in his lap, strumming away, or Hobie in his suit, sometimes with his mask on but mostly without it, and so many portraits of Hobie, you just love sketching him.

You'd die of embarrassment if he ever sees them, he might think you're obsessed with him (you are) or tease you into oblivion.

You can't help it though, accidentally making him your muse. There's just something about his perfect jawline, how his lips curve into a sly smile, or how his eyes light up whenever he's passionate about something, he gives you so much inspiration to make art.

You sigh, absolutely whipped for him. A breeze sends shivers through you, hugging your thin jacket closer to your torso.

Suddenly a heavy weight drops on your head, Hobie laughs loudly as you make a sound from the back of your throat.

"Hey!" You lift the heavy cloth away from your face, Looking closer at the heavy material, you see Hobie's familiar leather jacket, your heart swells.

" 'm sorry" he pecks the top of your head, his hands full, holding two steaming mugs, Hobie puts the mugs down on the table, the contents sloshing a bit to the sides. "Here let me"

Hobie reaches for the jacket, at first you thought he's gonna take it from you, but once he drapes the jacket behind you, your heart soars, thumping hard on your chest. You're sure he can feel it when he gets closer to you, so he could help you slot in your arms inside the jacket. You feel giddy, you smell like him now.

"There, warm enough?" Hobie rubs your arms, sneaking a look at you wearing his jacket, a smile creeping to the corner of his lips. Your cheeks heat up from his stare.

There's something in the air tonight, making the atmosphere romantic. Maybe because you're floating on the river in his houseboat currently stargazing in the dark?

"Mmhm" you nod with a shy smile, unable to form the correct words, eyes practically shaped like hearts, Hobie mirrors your expression.

Yeah, there's something in the air. It's definitely not because you're both absolutely lovestruck for each other.

He sits down, cringing when his knees creak. Damn his joints, he's trying to act cool in front of you.

You think it's endearing, adorable, even.

You give him a knowing (teasing) smile, putting your chin in your hand, while your elbow rests on the arm of the chair.

He rolls his eyes at you, but his smile betrays his true emotion. Hobie grabs his drink to hide his grin.

"Softie" you murmur.

"Drink your bloody tea, don't want you freezing to death while you're in my boat" he moves the mug closer to you.

You notice him sitting farther from you, you mentally shake your head, that won't do. So you place your opened sketchbook on your lap. Putting both hands on the back of his chair, you try to pull him towards you. But alas he's too heavy for you, your movement causes you to almost topple over.

Hobie's senses warn him before you could fall, with a strong grip on your chair, he stabilizes you. "What are you doing, love?" Words dripping in fondness.

"You're too far" you struggle as you continue to pull him towards you.

Instead of Hobie pulling your chair towards him, he slightly lifts himself off the chair, lessening the weight off it. You don't notice this, smiling triumphantly when you finally move his chair closer to you. The metal scraping against metal, makes your ears ring, but you mentally high five yourself for a job well done.

"Nice, you hitting the gym?" He places his arm on the arm rest of your chair, he's a lot closer now, breath mixing in with yours. Your cheeks heat up, you should've thought this through.

Knowing that you're too flustered to make a coherent sentence, you just nod "mmhm"

"Mmhm" he mimics you, teasing. "Right, just don't replace me with a gym bro, yeah?"

Your eyebrows knit together, taking his joke seriously "never"

He glimpses your opened sketchbook, that's miraculously still in your lap. Without thinking, he grabs it, whistling when he sees your drawing of mighty Orion.

"You drew this? Just now?"

Nodding, You try to reach for it back, please don't flip through it, you thought, embarrassment creeping up to you.

Hobie, being Hobie raises it higher away from your hands. He pretends to compare the constellation in the sky to your drawing. "Can't believe you drew this the whole ten minutes while I was making tea"

"Yeah, the stars inspired me, can I have it back, please?"

" 'm not done admiring it" he holds it with both hands, thankfully staying on the same page.

You grit your teeth, hoping, praying he doesn't move to another page.

Mother nature has a different idea though, a strong wind rushes past, rocking the boat slightly, the candles you meticulously lit up, blow out in the wind; the pages of your book flips widely, conveniently (unfortunately for you) stopping at a sketch of Hobie.

Oh, fuck. You internally curse. Nope that's it he's gonna get weirded out, and he's gonna break up with me. You keep catastrophizing.

"Is that me?" Hobie moves the book closer for inspection, his eyes roam to the perfect copy of him on the page, his heart skips a beat. "When was this?"

You put your face in your hands, you groan out, "I'm sorry, I should've asked for permission"

He's confused, Hobie closes the book, placing it carefully on the table. He grabs your hands carefully, you can feel the calluses on his fingertips.

"Nothing to be sorry about, look at me" he waits for you to remove your hands from your face. "I liked it, hey," he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, "you don't need to apologize"

You sneak a peek through your fingers, "you must think I'm a weirdo"

Hobie ducks his head to meet your eyes "yeah, because you are, knew that before I dated you, but you're my weirdo, yeah?"

You close your fingers together, hiding your flustered state from him, he called me his? You completely forget the part where he called you a weirdo.

"Enough of this, yeah?" He shakes you slightly "you don't need to ask permission to sketch me," he shakes you again, trying to make you laugh,

"I like" shake "it" shake "and I" shake "fancy you" Hobie shakes you harder, you smile behind your hands.

You bravely remove your hands away from your face.

"There you are" Hobie grins, while you look at him through your lashes, bashfully.

"You mean it?"

"We're literally together" he says through his laughs, Hobie cups your jaw affectionately "we're stargazing, even though it's bloody freezing, you think I'll do something like this if I didn't fancy you?"

"And you made me tea," you point out.

"And I made you tea, which you haven't even taken a sip yet, you ungrateful shit" Hobie smiles through his swearing, even with him cursing at you, you smile widely at him, knowing that's how he shows his affection.

You gather all your courage "you wanna see the rest?"

He taps your cheek "you sure?"

"Mmhm" you nod.

Hobie searches your face for any doubt, but finds none. He grabs your sketchbook, opening it to the first page. His own face greets him.

He whistles "who's that handsome man? I like his piercings"

"You dork," you laugh, pushing your face closer to his bicep, feeling his warmth through his hoodie.

Hobie releases his bicep from your hold, you pout, but he places his arm behind you, bringing you closer, a flustered smile replaces your pout.

He flips a page, a sketch of the planet saturn.

"You can actually see saturn from here" you say softly, content in his arms.

"Yeah? Point it to me" Hobie whispers against your hair.

You both crane your neck up, Hobie follows your pointing finger.

"Right there"

"Yeah?" He buries his face closer to your hair, muffling his voice.

"You're not even paying attention," you say softly, noticing his relaxed state.

"Nah, continue, I'm listening" Hobie cuddles to your side closer.

You let him relax in your hold as you point out more planets and constellations.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thanks for reading! Consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #fanfic #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk x gn! reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #artist!reader

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flowercrowngods · 11 months

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it’s floaty steddie hours

Eddie never knew there were moments that would just steal his breath and not give it back even after they passed, lingering in his mind, his heartbeat, his fingertips, making him wonder if the world is suddenly much bigger than before, or endlessly smaller, reduced only to one impossibly perfect moment.

He never knew. Until he met Steve. Steve, with his moments, with his smiles, with his kisses and laughs and gentle voice singing under his breath when he thinks Eddie isn’t listening.

But Eddie listens. He always listens.

And he basks, taking it all in as he’s sitting in the back of his van somewhere at the foot of Weathertop, leaning against the side wall.

There is a steady pitter-patter of heavy summer rain against the roof of the van, a breeze of fresh air coming in through the open doors that occasionally leaves goose bumps along his arms and brings with it the smell of rain and drenched soil, of blooming fields and trees and life, mixing with their own little bubble of life and love and tobacco.

Eddie wants to catch that smell, that sound, that feeling in a mason jar like Steve told him he used to dream as a kid. Maybe he will. He knows there’s one in the driver’s side door for this very purpose.

It would be a good forever-moment, with Steve lying in the back of his van, illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights Eddie installed for him the other week with a hearty but ultimately fake grumble. The warm light dances along his skin, making it look even more golden than usual, complementing the galaxy of moles that is imprinted and immortalised on his skin.

And Eddie watches. He always watches.

Golden light that makes even his dimples shine as he smiles, eyes closed as he’s singing along to the third mixtape of the night. Space Age Love Song, which Eddie pretends to hate. But how could he hate it when it makes Steve look like that? When it thus steals Eddie’s breath, his heart, his sanity?

And then, for a moment, for one perfect, drawn-out moment, all Eddie Munson can do anymore is watch. And listen. And feel. Because what he sees and hears and feels is everything.

His breath is lodged in his throat as he reaches for his little sketchbook — the special one, littered with drawings and doodles and musings of Steve. His face, his hands, the constellations of his moles. The occasional DnD related sketch in there, because Steve just inspires him.

His pencil dances over the page in practiced, familiar movements as he tries to capture the moment on paper. It’s hard, though, because Steve’s nose is scrunched a little with that smile that Eddie’s not even sure Steve’s aware of, and his dimples tell a story of their own tonight. A story of contentment rather than joy or amusement. Eddie has to try and try again, never quite getting it right, this perfection, and he curses a little under his breath.

“What are you drawing?” Steve asks, turning his head and opening his eyes a little, squinting but curious.

“Nothing,” Eddie smiles, pulling the sketch closer to his chest, away from Steve’s sleepy, lazy, slow attempt to reach for it. “Go back to sleep.”

“‘M not asleep,” he sighs, rolling over onto his side, watching Eddie and reaching for his ankle — just to touch. To hold. To feel.

It makes Eddie smile. “No?”

“No,” Steve says, helpless not to smile back, and Eddie wants to kiss him. “Just… I don’t know. ‘S nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Perfect.”

Eddie discards the sketchbook and goes to lie down beside Steve, wrapping one arm around his middle, the other coming up to take Steve’s, their fingers intertwined between their faces.

“Then I think the word you’re looking for is basking.”

Steve hums again, touching his forehead to Eddie’s knuckles before brushing featherlight kisses over them. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Basking.”

Eddie’s heart is ready to beat out of his chest, make a life of its own fuelled by the perfection of this moment. Everything about it. Everything.

Outside, the rain picks up even more, a wave of cold air coming into the van that makes Steve cuddle closer to him, until their foreheads are touching. Eddie closes his eyes, breathes him in, and slowly inches forward, tilting his head to claim Steve’s lips in a gentle kiss.

They trade slow, sensual kisses for a while. Steve’s hand comes up to Eddie’s cheek, his thumb stroking whatever skin he can find, caressing his cheek, his chin, his jaw, while Eddie plays with Steve’s hair.

In the end it’s Steve who pulls back first, eyes open, just watching Eddie. Taking him in, making him feel seen rather than watched.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Answering is as easy as breathing. And just as difficult. Just as impossible. His love, his breath — they both belong to Steve, completely and entirely.

Steve, who smiles at him like being loved by Eddie Munson means something to him. Like it means everything. Like it can mean Forever. Eddie feels like he might not survive tonight it Steve continues to be so genuine, so honest, so raw, so open, so vulnerable, so pretty, so beautiful, so absolutely breathtakingly everything.

“Can I see what you were drawing?”

“You,” Eddie says, reaching behind him blindly in search for his book, too weak to refuse Steve anything he asks for. “I was drawing you.”

“You were?”

Eddie nods, feeling a heat creeping up on his cheeks.

“Sap,” Steve grins, leaning in to plant a kiss on Eddie’s cheek as he reaches over him for the sketchbook. “Can I?”

“Knock yourself out,” Eddie grumbles, rolling them so Steve’s lying on his back and Eddie can sprawl on top of him. Hide his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, hide the way he’s flushing, hide the absolutely obvious way he’s a goner for Steve fucking Harrington.

He hears the gasps, hears the pages being flipped, the little giggles of surprise, the hums and tiny, secret little ohs. He hears them and he holds his breath, beginning to shiver for a reason that even the cool breeze cannot compete with.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes. Doesn’t say anything else for a while. And Eddie wonders if Steve is in the same boat, in the same condition, if he has these moments, too. Moments like this. He wonders, and he hopes, and he wishes.

But Steve doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Eddie, and the music switches to Springsteen. Tougher Than the Rest. It’s always been too soft for Eddie, but right now it serves to give the word perfect a new melody.

“Dance with me,” Steve breathes.

“Hm?”

“Dance with me. Please?”

“In the rain?”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, tightens his hold around Eddie as if he forgot that they still had to get up and get out there.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, lifting himself from Steve’s chest and climbing out of the car, warm rain immediately drenching his clothes. It makes him laugh, a boyish little thing that bubbles out of him as he holds out his hands to help Steve out.

Steve takes his hand, jumping out with a small giggle of his own, making for a glorious vision: happy and giddy against the golden light inside the van, his wild hair soon drenched completely, sticking to his face where he shakes his head, showing droplets of water left and right.

It doesn’t fit the song, doesn’t fit the notion of basking, but they’re both laughing and breathless, clinging to each other in the moonlit night somewhere at the foot of weathertop, far away from everyone else that they might just be the only two people left in the world. Two silly boys, giddy and breathless and stupidly in love.

It makes Eddie pause. Swallow. It makes his heart go wild as he stills.

“What?” Steve asks, stilling as well, looking over his shoulder to see if someone was coming, if someone’s watching them.

Eddie pulls him closer, makes Steve meet his eyes again as he rests his hands around his neck. “Dance with me.”

A smile spreads Steve’s lips, breaking through all of Eddie’s walls to let the light in — even in the middle of the night. “Okay,” he breathes.

And if you’re brave enough for love, // Honey, I’m tougher than the rest.

The sound of rain isn’t loud enough to drown out the music, but still Eddie can barely hear it over the sound of his own heart. Over the sound of I love you, I love you, I love you. Over the sound of Is this forever? Can this be forever?

They slow dance to Springsteen, then to Tears for Fears, and eventually to Prince. They dance until Steve begins to shiver in his arms, until the rain has drenched them so completely that none of the day’s heat is left in the air and the breeze is getting uncomfortable. And then, they dance a little longer, because Steve is capturing Eddie’s lips again, slow and unhurried and like he means it. Like he means it all.

“One day,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s lips. “One day I’m going to marry you. I’ll find a way.”

And it’s Eddie this time who gasps, who falls into Steve because his knees are giving out. It’s Eddie who’s lost for words.

But he doesn’t need words, because Steve is kissing him again, holding him up, holding him, holding his heart and his life and his future in hands so gentle and sure that Eddie wants to fall apart, just a little bit.

“Not if I marry you first,” he says eventually, brushing one last bruising kiss to Steve’s lips before pulling back and climbing into the van, dripping as he is.

Steve, laughing and giggling, follows immediately after him, pulling off his clothes in a hurry to get under the blanket. Eddie watches him with a leer — at least until Steve kicks him in the side and tells him to get out of these clothes and come under the blanket to warm up.

“If you wanted to get me naked, you could’a just said so, Harrington. Didn’t have to propose first.”

Steve grins, helpless against it, blushing a little and hiding his face in the blanket even as he reaches for Eddie to come closer.

But Eddie doesn’t, and awkwardly climbs over Steve to reach for the driver’s side door.

“What are you—“

Steve shuts up when Eddie retrieves the mason jar, his mouth clicking shut adorably, making Eddie grin, vulnerable and nervous and raw as he feels.

“Told myself I’d capture a perfect moment for you. What do you think, does it qualify?”

Steve swallows. Nods. Reaches for Eddie once more, who shuffles closer until Steve can test his head on his shoulder.

“Can’t believe you remembered,” he murmurs, trailing his index finger along the lid.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Eddie grins, making Steve laugh. Alleviating the moment, but not dislodging it. “So?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “It’s perfect. I’m… God, I love you so much, Eddie, shit.”

“And that’s how I’m gonna label it,” Eddie grins.

“Not One day I’m gonna marry you?”

And Eddie’s breath hitches again. He lowers the mason jar, meeting Steve’s eyes this time. He wants to ask; needs to ask. Needs to know.

“Do you mean that?” It’s whispered; he doesn’t have the strength or the bravery to be any louder.

Steve’s hands come up to his cheeks, cradling his face in the gentlest way as he holds Eddie’s eyes. “Eddie Munson,” he says, “one day I’m going to marry you. And I won’t let you marry me first.”

Between them, Eddie opens the mason jar just as Steve leans in to capture his mouth in a kiss that really is nothing less than a promise. Nothing less than Forever.

happy birthday @anzelsilver i have the hugest “pls be my friend” crush on you so i decided to write you a lil thing and hope you enjoy this and the rest of your week 🫶🤍🌷

#and then they cuddle naked and. do other things hehehe #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #dio words #i am 17 minutes late for your birthday in my time zone and idk where you are but i hope you like this lil thing #it’s floaty it’s vibey it’s uhhh not as capital F fluffy as i intended but alas eddie was too in love it’s not my fault

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cheshiresense · 8 months

Text

[From Here]

Dithered over which pov to write next, figured I’d try Yuzu.

-0-

When Yuzu gets a phone call from Ichigo that they would be having two guests for dinner tonight, she is delighted. In all the years she’s known him, her brother has only ever introduced one person to them as something of a friend. Mizuiro is half a sibling at this point, trusted enough to be around them even when Ichigo isn’t, but before him, and after him, nobody else has ever caught Ichigo’s eye enough to warrant an actual invitation to dine with their family.

“They’re related to ghost stuff,” Ichigo adds bluntly, and Yuzu understands that to mean that these two will at least be tougher than the average yakuza on the street, even if they can’t match up to her brother.

“I understand!” She chirps back cheerfully. “I’ll let Karin know. I can’t wait to meet them!”

Then she hangs up, rolls up her sleeves, and gets to work in the kitchen. No guests of her brother’s will ever accuse them of being ungracious hosts on her watch.

(Karin comes home from soccer practice half an hour later. She laughs, as Yuzu does, when Yuzu tells her of their impending guests.)

-0-

Two hours later, Yuzu is putting the finishing touches on the meal when the sound of the door being unlocked carries through the apartment.

"Welcome home, Onii-chan!" She calls out, plating the last dish before carrying it over to the dining table. "Dinner's ready!"

She can hear Karin leaving their bedroom and coming down the hall on deliberately heavy footsteps. She appears just as Ichigo comes in from the front, Mizuiro a step behind him, with two men bringing up the rear, vaguely middle-aged at first glance, younger at the second, and then just ageless the more you stare.

They're tall, is Yuzu's first thought, but everybody's tall from her perspective. Still, they're taller than Ichigo, especially the one in the very back, and bigger too, even if they've got that same elegant dancer's gait her brother walks with, the one that whispers danger in the hindbrain even to those who don't know what to look for. They're also both blond, one darker than the other, but both with hair that nearly reach their shoulders. One wears modern clothing, the other more traditional, and one is empty-handed while the other carries a cane, but both of them take in the whole room in one calculating sweep that misses nothing. And they're both already smiling politely as they walk in, one with a harmless playful edge, the other with a harmless mysterious air, but both as fake as each other.

Yuzu exchanges a glance with Karin just to check she's not seeing things. Karin gives her the eyebrows that means she's noticed too.

Mizuiro had given off a far less dangerous aura when Ichigo had first brought him home. And he still feels much less threatening than these men now, no matter how much Guest One and Guest Two are probably trying to play it down. But back then, Mizuiro had also come in with sharp eyes and a guileless skin-deep smile, and that at least is exactly the same.

Their big brother sure does have a type. Yuzu sometimes wonders if Ichigo goes out and picks the most suspicious and unsettling people he can find to entertain him, or if he just somehow attracts them with his innate charm.

"My sisters, Karin, and Yuzu," Ichigo introduces without suspense, then jabs a thumb at Mizuiro. "And Mizuiro lives next door but he eats with us when we're here."

Then he gestures at the two men. "This is Hirako Shinji and Urahara Kisuke." He pauses for a brief half-second, and his eyes flash gold in Yuzu's, and Karin's, direction. "Hirako's a bit like me." He pauses again, and a funny half-smile hitches at one corner of his mouth. "They both are actually."

He says nothing else, so Yuzu takes that as her cue to sketch a neat half-bow paired with a bright smile. "Hello! It's nice to meet you!"

Beside her, Karin parrots the motion, if in a more perfunctory manner, but they weren't raised in a cave, so they know how to be courteous.

The men murmur back their own greetings even as their gazes shift back and forth between them and their brother like they're trying to pick up on a second unspoken conversation, but it's not as if there's anything for them to hear either way.

It's just that the introduction was short, names and little else, so Yuzu knows that they're equally untrustworthy, which makes sense because Ichigo couldn't have known them for more than a week or two. But the little else he'd tacked on had been a sign as well— not just that they're like him in some ways, in different ways, but also that Ichigo likes Hirako more than Urahara. Nevertheless, the fact that he'd brought them here at all means that they're interesting enough to make them both tolerable.

Yuzu understands, as does Karin, but they give no indication of it as everyone shuffles around to wash their hands, and Yuzu quickly scoops out a bowl of rice each for everyone in attendance.

"Onii-chan never invites anybody over, so I made a lot of extra food today," Yuzu tells them happily. "Please eat as much as you want!"

"Everythin' looks delicious," The darker blond, Hirako, grins at her, and this time, the expression seems more genuine. At the very least, it gives her a warmer feeling than the other blond, Urahara, who also smiles and trills agreement but radiates more distance than an overseas phone call.

Everyone settles around the dining table, although Mizuiro spares a moment to pull an exaggerated moue of aggrievement. "Never invites anybody over? Have I been forgotten, Yuzu-chan?"

Karin rolls her eyes while Yuzu giggles merrily. "You don't count, Mizuiro-nii-chan. You already eat with us almost every day anyway."

Mizuiro drops the act in favour of a smirk, though he looks pleased too, to be counted as family, as if the novelty of it still hasn't worn off. To be fair, it had taken a whole six months before Ichigo had been willing to leave him in the same vicinity as Yuzu and Karin on their own, and Yuzu knows that being trusted like that by her brother is no small feat.

Conversation drops as everybody begins digging in, and Yuzu lets her gaze drift casually over to their guests as they too pick up their bowls and chopsticks.

It's Urahara she lingers on first because he's the one who lifts his bowl to his mouth, only to stop at the last second, chopsticks poised. His expression doesn't really change, and the lapse only lasts a fraction of a second before he's moving again, smoothly pretending to eat a mouthful before lowering his bowl again, chewing and swallowing thin air masterfully. Even Yuzu only spots it because she's been watching the whole time from behind lowered eyelashes as she grabs some eggplant from one of the vegetable dishes.

She lets her gaze drop completely when she feels the man's eyes move from the food to her and then to Ichigo. Still, she can't quite suppress a pout, although she supposes she can't be too disappointed either since Hirako at least eats a good five bites of his rice before suddenly stiffening, glancing down sharply even as his eyes flicker with the same burnished gold colour that her brother possesses.

Then he looks up, looks at Urahara, looks at her, looks long at Ichigo, and then-

-he laughs. It's a bark of one that echoes with a snarl, except the mirth in it is also entirely genuine, enough for Yuzu to glance up with startled eyes. But the rest of the table does as well, so at least she doesn't stand out. Of course, that doesn't prevent Hirako from grinning at her, all teeth, with a bite that would feel like claws at her throat if not for the fact that it's coloured by something even warmer than when he'd complimented her spread. Appreciation, maybe.

"Is it the rice?" He muses candidly, and then actually eats another bite. "Nah, can't be, it was from the same cooker. It's the bowl, right? Not bad, I can't smell or taste anythin'."

Yuzu blinks and shares another look with Karin, who looks largely bored by the proceedings and hasn't stopped eating. Soccer practice always makes her hungry. But she also shrugs in agreement that Hirako is being sincere, so Yuzu relaxes and looks at her brother next.

Ichigo also hasn't stopped eating, although he isn't shovelling food into his mouth as speedily as Karin is. He swallows, glances leisurely at their guests, then looks back at her. "Not bad. Nothing in the food though?"

Yuzu frowns. "It's the first time you've invited them over, Onii-chan. I didn't want to scare them off."

Also, they're tolerable, and Ichigo even likes one of them, so she'd chosen the mildly poisoned bowls over the severely poisoned ones.

Ichigo just looks amused. "They don't scare easily."

Yuzu pouts again before glancing at their two guests, who are both watching them openly now. Hirako still looks like he's just heard a grand joke, while Urahara seems more than a little bemused, but neither of them feels angry.

Her big brother really is an excellent judge of character.

"You really didn't notice anything at all?" Yuzu asks in earnest, peering at Hirako before squinting at Urahara. "Then how come he did? And did you already shake the poison off?"

Hirako snorts and reaches for the communal chopsticks to swipe another chicken wing. "My... constitution's pretty good at negatin' toxins. And Kisuke's trained for this sort of thing."

Trained? Yuzu stares wide-eyed at Urahara long enough for the man to stop exuding caution and start manifesting awkwardness, which isn't what she wants so she hastily blurts out, "Are you really? So you can identify any poison? But the one I made is an original, so you shouldn't have come across it before."

Urahara stares back at her for a long blank-faced moment, not even bothering to stitch on a smile anymore, and like this, he matches the flat undercurrent of his emotions much better, like ice over water, except the water is the ocean and you don't know how deep it goes or what's waiting underneath.

"Ah," The man finally says, lifting a hand to his hat for a moment and pressing down on it so that his eyes are hidden. Then he looks up again and eyes her like he's seeing her for the first time and is pleasantly surprised by what he's found. "I may not know the exact poison, but I could still tell there was something off. Also, it's plant-based, isn't it?"

He pauses, and then, just like Hirako, he picks up his rice bowl again and swallows a decent mouthful, chewing almost thoughtfully beforehand. "And refined with reiatsu. That's actually more difficult to hide from me. Your technique is clumsy too. Give me an hour and I could probably also tell you the strains you crossed to make it. For now, at the very least, I can say there's definitely wisteria in this."

Yuzu is rendered speechless for a full five seconds. And then she snaps out of it and rounds on her brother with the best puppy eyes in her arsenal. She knows they don't actually work, but Ichigo tends to give in to her when she pulls them out anyway because it means she really wants something. "Onii-chan, you'll invite them back again, won't you? Urahara-san is amazing! I could learn so much if he teaches me!"

Ichigo's eyebrows go up for a moment in a way that speaks of indulgence, but he also glances lazily at Urahara before going back to his food. "Ask him yourself."

Yuzu pulls up short, always slightly stunned whenever her brother refuses her, even when it's not a direct refusal. But generally speaking, if she or Karin wants something enough to ask for it, Ichigo has always been the sort to simply make it happen for them. The only times he's ever refused is when he'd thought it too unnecessary - Karin really shouldn't have asked for a flamethrower for her birthday, it's unwieldy and she can't hide it in her backpack, plus they know how to make Molotov cocktails already anyway, which is almost the same thing - or when he'd considered it important for them to get what they want on their own, usually because it would make for a useful life skill in the future.

Never has it been because of a person.

But for the first time ever, this situation seems to have fallen into that exact category, which... She looks back at Urahara with more curiosity than before. For someone Ichigo only finds tolerable, something about this man has... impressed him? Is that what's going on here? Not even Mizuiro has ever succeeded in that before, so for once, Yuzu has no precedent to draw from.

Well, that doesn't matter right now. The important thing is that Urahara will probably remain in her big brother's life for some time to come, which means-

"Urahara-san!" She shoots to her feet, chair clattering back with the force of it as she bows. "Please teach me more about poisons! It's okay if it's just a little bit, whenever you have time. I promise I'll work hard! And of course, I can pay for the lessons!"

She does some mental tallying. There's a bake sale coming up for her club, and the venue they've chosen is close enough to the Karakura border to attract people from the neighbouring town. If she plays her cards right, some thugs from nearby yakuza groups probably wouldn't mind donating to her cause. Pretty little girls offering pretty little cakes are bound to reel in at least a few idiots.

Of course, she'll have to ask Ichigo to get rid of them afterwards. It's better not to risk putting anything too lethal into a school bake sale, just in case of an accident, so she'll have to stick with upset stomachs at most. Once they've paid up, Ichigo can make them disappear. Those upset stomachs can get really gross, and blood and guts aren't much better if cleanup gets messy, so Yuzu would rather not deal with that part.

Unlike her siblings who don't mind it, Yuzu is unfortunately something of a clean freak. Karin always taunts her about having inherited their father's delicate constitution, and Yuzu can't even refute it, no matter how insulted she feels. It's seriously unfair because she can gut a fish in the kitchen no problem, but human intestines make her gag.

"I-" Urahara starts, jolting her out of her thoughts. The man looks taken aback all over again, and like he's missed a step somewhere. He even feels a bit nervous as he whips out a paper fan of all things, one that hides half his face from view. His gaze bounces between her and her brother, emitting enough anxious vibes that Yuzu suddenly wants to give him an emotional support dog or something. "I'm not sure I would be the... best choice for this sort of thing, Kurosaki-san."

Yuzu is unsure who he's talking to, but just in case it's her, she rearranges her face into the most kicked puppy look of disappointment she's capable of. "Why not? You know your poisons, and it looks like it'll be hard for me to kill you. Onii-chan can only teach me so much, it's not really his area, so I've only been able to trial-and-error it for months now. But I'm a quick learner, and I swear I'll listen to anything you're willing to teach me. Or, is it the money? Just name your price."

Even if she can't come up with it all on her own, she's certain Ichigo will help pay the rest. Honestly, even if it's within her budget, he'll just pour the same amount she shells out back into her bank account. The only reason they have to go in a big circle like this is because Ichigo wants them to learn how to handle money responsibly.

"That's not-" Urahara stops again, then snaps his fan shut, and then all of a sudden, it's like a wall comes up, and everything about him shuts down. He straightens, features as unreadable as the rest of him, and then he turns to Ichigo so that it's unmistakeable who he's talking to this time. "Kurosaki-san, is this really alright?"

Ichigo's basically finished eating at this point. Karin gets up for another bowl of rice. Mizuiro watches them like he's binging one of his romance dramas. And Hirako has his head propped up against one loose fist, eyes half-lidded but intent.

In response, Ichigo only shrugs. "I mean, you can say no. But like she said, I can't teach her much more than I already have, and it's not like she's gonna find a better teacher than you at this point, right?"

"And where did you learn it from?" Urahara asks, grey eyes riveted on Ichigo with the sort of focus that feels like he might've forgotten anyone else even exists.

Ichigo actually quirks a smile, sardonically amused. "Same place I learned everything else."

He doesn't expand on it, keeping the conversation on track instead, much to Yuzu's delight. "Anyway, if you're asking for permission, obviously it's a yes. I wouldn't have let her ask in the first place if I wasn't okay with it. And she's smart. You could do worse for a part-time student."

Urahara remains motionless and unblinking for another few seconds. "...Was this why you invited us for dinner?"

Ichigo shrugs again. "Not really. It's not like I knew you knew poisons. I just thought my sisters should meet you, that's all."

"And why's that?" Hirako interjects, also watching Ichigo with gleaming eyes that never waver. "Cuz ya don't seem the type to let jus' anyone get close to your nearest and dearest."

Ichigo turns to him, and his eyes are fond in a way they very rarely are when aimed at anyone not Yuzu or Karin or Mizuiro. It's not quite on the same level, but it does make it even more obvious that Hirako has her brother's favour.

"I thought it'd be good if they knew a few Shinigami," Ichigo says offhandedly, although judging by the slight stir of surprise from both guests, they hadn't expected he would just come out and say it. Or perhaps they're surprised he's talking about it in front of Yuzu and Karin and Mizuiro? But they're family. Yuzu doesn't know everything about Ichigo, but that's just because she doesn't want to know that much about her brother's life, not because Ichigo wouldn't tell her if she or Karin asks.

"You seem like you might bring trouble to my doorstep one day," Ichigo says, somewhat out of the blue, and all at once, Urahara tugs at his hat again just as Yuzu gets a sense of shifty-eyed discomfort all but waving support lights over the man's head. Hirako sort of feels the same, but in a less... personal way.

So whatever's going on, Urahara's probably the one in charge.

Ichigo seems to sense it too, or he's long guessed it considering his not great feelings for Urahara. Either way, he scoffs, and the light in his eyes says he's annoyed, but not annoyed enough to do something permanent about it. Yet. "Yeah, that's what I thought. So I figured it's better for you to know who you should do your very best to protect if shit goes down around them, because otherwise, I might not even feel like hearing you out. Understand?"

Hirako glances at Yuzu, at Karin, even at Mizuiro, then he turns back to Ichigo, solemn in a way Yuzu hasn't seen since they met, "I understand."

It sounds like a promise.

Ichigo hums, satisfied. Neither of them prods at Urahara for an answer, and Urahara doesn't give one. He feels flat again, like a scrap of paper.

"So like I said," Ichigo continues briskly. "If you wanna teach her, knock yourself out. You can send me the bill."

Yuzu beams at him. Looks like she won't have to waste any cakes.

From his seat, Urahara heaves a sigh, and now he just seems tired and still a bit baffled, but he also finally looks at her again like he's assessing her potential. Yuzu straightens and adopts her best imploring face.

This of all things makes Urahara's mouth twitch, and he even feels amused, except it's the sort of amusement that's all wrapped up in razor-wire mockery. That bit doesn't show on his face of course. Still, Yuzu's fingers suddenly itch with the urge to swap out his bowl with the other one after all.

"So clumsy," The man muses, one finger tapping at the cane leaning against his chair. "...Very well, I suppose I may have a few things I can impart to a budding... chemistry enthusiast. On one condition however. And I don't want money."

He looks at Ichigo again, except he doesn't say anything. Ichigo seems to understand anyway because a grin pulls at his lips, a touch too savage to fit on a human face, and aimed at anyone else, Yuzu knows they wouldn't even have time to pick out a coffin.

Urahara seems to be an exception. It makes Yuzu wonder if he's just that strong, certain in his ability to forever remain stronger than her brother, or if he's simply gambling with his life, and it's Ichigo instead who's decided to be uncharacteristically patient.

She hopes it's not the former, because she has no faith in anyone who thinks themselves capable of staying ahead of her brother forever. But if it's the latter, then maybe she'll have enough time to wheedle out everything Urahara knows of poisons before Ichigo snaps and kills him.

"That seems a bit unbalanced," Ichigo remarks.

Urahara inclines his head, and this time, his voice rings of the same vow that had reverberated in Hirako's earlier. "Upon my blade, my life before your family's, should the worst come to pass."

Ichigo laughs, soft and without humour. "This trouble must be something else. That, or you don’t think your life’s worth all that much. But fine. We'll hash it out tomorrow. Keep your word, and I might even go along with whatever you and your people have been cooking up. But Yuzu gets to bug you for lessons any day of the week from now on."

And once again, between one breath and the next, Urahara trades the gravity for the false affability from before.

It's like watching a performance, Yuzu thinks.

She glances at her brother and watches him watch Urahara, still annoyed, still a bit like he could put a knife through the other's ribs if it wouldn't mean the hassle of mopping blood off the floor.

Ichigo likes Hirako. Yuzu does too, even though they just met not even half an hour ago. There's something about him that makes him approachable and friendly despite the very obvious beast lurking beneath his skin. But that too might be part of the charm because Yuzu's long used to the same thing from her brother. Knowing even just that much, it's not a shock that Ichigo has clicked with him - a fellow monster - in a way he never has even with Mizuiro.

But Urahara is different. Urahara is treated with tolerance only, with irritation and discontent and even derision, on and off. But Yuzu knows that her brother has killed people for a whole lot less than that, and yet here Urahara sits at their family's table while Ichigo looks at him from time to time, tolerant and irritated and discontent and derisive, and he can't stop looking.

She wonders if even her brother is aware of what he's doing.

"I'll leave my number," The man offers, complete with a genial smile. "And you may stop by my shop anytime. Allow me a few days, and I shall have some reading material organized for you."

Yuzu perks up, nods, and finally sits back down, then gets up again to fetch two extra bowls of rice, this time clean of any poison. Hirako snickers but accepts his with a nod. Urahara does the same, with that same winning smile, and then dinner restarts, this time uninterrupted.

Well, who cares if Ichigo is aware or not? He’ll figure it out sooner or later. And besides, it’s all the same in the end— people who push her brother too far will face the consequences, and those who don't will not. That's just the simple truth of it.

But in the meantime, Urahara at least won't be going anywhere, which means Yuzu can finally get some guidance for one of her favourite hobbies, and honestly, that's all she really cares about.

#bleach #myscrap #stunted empathy verse #kurosaki ichigo #kurosaki yuzu #kurosaki karin #hirako shinji #urahara kisuke #kojima mizuiro #this excerpt should be called #no child raised by a monster could possibly be fangless #or normal #and yes ichigo protects his sisters well but also he says the best protection is teaching them how to protect themselves #and the twins just extrapolated from there b/c they may be softer compared to ichigo but that's not rly saying much #anyway yes yuzu and karin have their own little abilities #they're not as strong as ichigo but they have their ThingTM #yuzu's very good at sensing emotions tied up in someone's reiryoku #also kind of obsessed with poison #as she once told her big brother: making poison is just extreme cooking #ichigo didn't rly mean to raise her like this but it's the niche she's growing into and she owns it #and ichigo doesn't see a problem with that #you should encourage your kids' hobbies after all #also lmao this may end up kisuke/ichigo/shinji instead

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