Sugar Streak
folder
Bleach › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,131
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Bleach › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,131
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
An Actor's Saving Grace
This chapter was actually completed before the previous one, and damn if it was a hell of a lot less challenging. Here we go. M/F.
An Actor's Saving Grace
All those perfectly fortified barriers, those that protected him and his well-practiced image of aristocracy were scattered around him in pieces. They had not been broken - he didn't expect that anything would ever break them - instead, they had been dismantled intentionally. He had dropped his flawless front, and here was a man that he knew only one woman had seen, that he thought only one woman would ever see.
Here was Kuchiki Byakuya, smiling.
It was a small smile of course, but he was visibly happy nonetheless.
He had woken up that morning to what he knew, no doubt, was the most beautiful thing in his world. On his chest there lay a sleeping woman. Her dark hair decorated his pale skin; features soft, peaceful, at ease. He watched her body rise and fall ever so slightly with her breathing, and felt her hand holding his forearm as it had been all night. He wondered whether she would wake soon, and he chastised himself. He may be outwardly happy, but Kuchiki-taichou was not going to allow himself impatience.
He frowned slightly, but fortunately at that moment she began to stir sleepily. She lay there, dozing, tracing her fingers lazily around his palm now, for a few seconds before her eyes widened sharply and she sat up.
An elegant eyebrow quirked in questioning, but the smile on her face gave away what she was thinking. He smirked at her excited grin and pulled her close, whispering into her shoulder,
"One year, Kuchiki."
She ran her fingers through his now slightly untidy hair and watched him enquiringly when he slid from beneath her and stood wordlessly. What he did next surprised them both, and Hisana let out a rather undignified squawk of shock before she caught herself and blushed. He had bent down and scooped her up without warning, his eyes soft as he pulled her close. She was slight enough to be carried much like a child, so that is what he did, transporting her out into the courtyard and placing her gently down beneath a blossoming tree.
Her eyes remained widened in shock as she exclaimed, "You're still only half-dressed, Bya-"
He captured her lips mid sentence in a soft kiss. Half-dressed? So he was. Clothed only from the waist down, without his scarf, without his kenseikan, and somehow, at this moment it didn't seem to matter. As he kissed his wife, her loose robe slipping from her shoulders, as blossom fell around them and decorated her hair, as her hands found his shoulders and pulled him close, nothing mattered.
All those perfectly fortified barriers, those that protected him and his well-practiced image of aristocracy were scattered around him in pieces. He stirred from his fitful sleep, his whole body cold and aching from his awkward seated position propped up against the wall, which he had assumed at about nine o'clock the previous evening.
The sun was rising now, as he looked down at the photograph in his hand. His teeth clenched tightly and his eyes pressed shut as he fought back the tears that all year he had not shed. He knew it was useless. All year he listened to this meeting, completed this task, evaluated that mission, signed that paperwork. He scolded Abarai for his lateness, avoided Rukia for her appearance, but this night was different. He opened his blurry eyes, and his voice cracked as he spoke,
"Thirty years, Kuchiki."
~ * ~
This chapter, I'm very satisfied with, I think. Very enjoyable to write, despite the amount of tears I shed during the writing and proofing processes. What is it about a romantic tragedy that gets me so much, eh?
I like the way I've written this one. I think my style came through well, probably because I am a fan of the characters, so I held a passion when telling their story. Certainly easier than the previous chapter, which as I write this, is only half written, and I don't like what little I have done on it. While I hold a liking for those characters too, I think I have a fear of mis-characterising Gin, since he's my favourite character (well, one of them). He's so beautifully mysterious, so it is certainly proving challenging to do the bastard justice.
All those perfectly fortified barriers, those that protected him and his well-practiced image of aristocracy were scattered around him in pieces. They had not been broken - he didn't expect that anything would ever break them - instead, they had been dismantled intentionally. He had dropped his flawless front, and here was a man that he knew only one woman had seen, that he thought only one woman would ever see.
Here was Kuchiki Byakuya, smiling.
It was a small smile of course, but he was visibly happy nonetheless.
He had woken up that morning to what he knew, no doubt, was the most beautiful thing in his world. On his chest there lay a sleeping woman. Her dark hair decorated his pale skin; features soft, peaceful, at ease. He watched her body rise and fall ever so slightly with her breathing, and felt her hand holding his forearm as it had been all night. He wondered whether she would wake soon, and he chastised himself. He may be outwardly happy, but Kuchiki-taichou was not going to allow himself impatience.
He frowned slightly, but fortunately at that moment she began to stir sleepily. She lay there, dozing, tracing her fingers lazily around his palm now, for a few seconds before her eyes widened sharply and she sat up.
An elegant eyebrow quirked in questioning, but the smile on her face gave away what she was thinking. He smirked at her excited grin and pulled her close, whispering into her shoulder,
"One year, Kuchiki."
She ran her fingers through his now slightly untidy hair and watched him enquiringly when he slid from beneath her and stood wordlessly. What he did next surprised them both, and Hisana let out a rather undignified squawk of shock before she caught herself and blushed. He had bent down and scooped her up without warning, his eyes soft as he pulled her close. She was slight enough to be carried much like a child, so that is what he did, transporting her out into the courtyard and placing her gently down beneath a blossoming tree.
Her eyes remained widened in shock as she exclaimed, "You're still only half-dressed, Bya-"
He captured her lips mid sentence in a soft kiss. Half-dressed? So he was. Clothed only from the waist down, without his scarf, without his kenseikan, and somehow, at this moment it didn't seem to matter. As he kissed his wife, her loose robe slipping from her shoulders, as blossom fell around them and decorated her hair, as her hands found his shoulders and pulled him close, nothing mattered.
All those perfectly fortified barriers, those that protected him and his well-practiced image of aristocracy were scattered around him in pieces. He stirred from his fitful sleep, his whole body cold and aching from his awkward seated position propped up against the wall, which he had assumed at about nine o'clock the previous evening.
The sun was rising now, as he looked down at the photograph in his hand. His teeth clenched tightly and his eyes pressed shut as he fought back the tears that all year he had not shed. He knew it was useless. All year he listened to this meeting, completed this task, evaluated that mission, signed that paperwork. He scolded Abarai for his lateness, avoided Rukia for her appearance, but this night was different. He opened his blurry eyes, and his voice cracked as he spoke,
"Thirty years, Kuchiki."
This chapter, I'm very satisfied with, I think. Very enjoyable to write, despite the amount of tears I shed during the writing and proofing processes. What is it about a romantic tragedy that gets me so much, eh?
I like the way I've written this one. I think my style came through well, probably because I am a fan of the characters, so I held a passion when telling their story. Certainly easier than the previous chapter, which as I write this, is only half written, and I don't like what little I have done on it. While I hold a liking for those characters too, I think I have a fear of mis-characterising Gin, since he's my favourite character (well, one of them). He's so beautifully mysterious, so it is certainly proving challenging to do the bastard justice.