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Shuhei Hisagi X Reader - Blog Posts

darthwhorecrux

3 weeks ago

𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢, 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐬 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫…

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Shuhei Hisagi, Hirako Shinji, Kurosaki Ichigo

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello !! I hope you’re having a wonderful day (⌒‿⌒) may I request headcanons of Shuhei, Yumichika, and Shinji with an s/o that’s Kenpachi’s daughter? Maybe with some gap moe where she has a similar aggressive fighting style as Kenpachi then is very sweet and happy-go-lucky (like Yachiru!!)

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I just love how all the Captains are getting a chance to have a daughter who practically scares all the other subordinates >.< Since I don’t write for Yumichika, I swapped him with Ichigo (cuz it’s also fun giving him stress with anything Kenpachi) Thanks for thr request!!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Shuhei Hisagi

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi had absolutely not a clue you were Zaraki’s daughter the first time he met you, he just knew there was something crazy, dangerous and magnetic about you, and he really shouldn’t be drawn to but absolutely was.

˚₊‧꒰ა You caught him staring when you passed him in the Seireitei gardens and shot him a grin that showed slightly too sharp teeth and zero shame, sending his brain somewhere north of useless.

˚₊‧꒰ა When he finally learned who your father was, it was from Ikkaku, who very kindly slapped the back of Hisagi’s head and muttered, “Oi, you’re sniffin’ round Zaraki’s kid, mate. Best have a bloody will ready.”

˚₊‧꒰ა That was the moment he immediately considered getting his affairs in order but realised he’d rather die than give up a chance to be near you.

˚₊‧꒰ა The first date was a mess, and he still got dragged into it; you insisted on sparring for fun, and the two of you ended up in a crumbling training yard, bruised and laughing

˚₊‧꒰ა “You know,” you called, wiping some dirt from your cheek with the back of your hand, “if you’re gonna fall for me, you better keep up.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He found it absolutely thrilling that you thought fighting was flirting and somehow adapted faster than anyone expected, even you

˚₊‧꒰ა You stole his sake once during a late night drinking session at his division and refused to give it back unless he could wrestle it off you; you won, and he still claims he let you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Other times, he would wake up to find you sprawled across his bed, limbs thrown wide like you owned it, his uniform shirt hanging off one shoulder because you tore it sometime during the night.

˚₊‧꒰ა You teased him mercilessly about his tattoo, asking if you could give him a few more “battle marks” of your own and then cackled when he flushed when you dragged your fingers halfway down his chest to show where you want to plant them.

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi got on surprisingly well with your father, mostly because he treated Zaraki with open respect and absolutely no grovelling fear, though he was definitely one wrong word away from getting flattened most days.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Tch. If ya hurt her, kid,” Zaraki grunted once, massive hand clapping Hisagi’s shoulder so hard he nearly face-planted, “I’ll pull yer guts out through yer nostrils.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You found it hilarious and made a point of hanging off Hisagi’s shoulders, legs wrapped round his waist, kissing him stupid in public, daring anyone to comment.

˚₊‧꒰ა He loved it when you crashed his office, flopping onto his paperwork with a loud “I’m bored. I want to be entertained,” and he pretended to be exasperated but dropped everything within minutes to curl up beside you which eventually leads to a wrestling match and a power nap.

˚₊‧꒰ა There were times he secretly enjoyed being dragged into ridiculous Zaraki family outings, like ‘friendly’ brawls, Hollow hunting, and one memorably awful camping trip where you tried (and failed) to cook a rabbit over open flame.

˚₊‧꒰ა “What are you going to do without me,” he laughed, poking your burnt rabbit corpse with a stick while you scowled.

˚₊‧꒰ა If he ever got a bad nightmare, you were both the type to pretend it didn’t happen, tangled together under thin sheets, breath evening out in the small hours without a word.

˚₊‧꒰ა You taught him how to sharpen his instincts beyond textbook fighting, how to smell blood on the wind, how to listen for the wrong kind of silence, and he taught you how to steady your rage before it burnt you alive.

˚₊‧꒰ა He wouldn’t say a word about this, but he has a secret tattoo of your name inked small and low on his hipbone where nobody would ever see unless you peeled him out of his uniform yourself.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Only person I ever wanted to be reckless for,” he muttered once against your collarbone after a near-death mission, voice rough with something he refused to call love but was anyway.

Hirako Shinji

˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji spotted you once tearing through a group of low-ranked thugs in the Rukongai with a huge grin on your face and thought, Well, there goes my bloody sanity.

˚₊‧꒰ა You met properly when you were assigned as a temporary reinforcement to the Visoreds for a Hollow hunt, and Shinji spent the entire briefing pointedly not staring at the way your hips moved each time you walked, because, “My eyed were glued to your zanpakuto.”

˚₊‧꒰ა After you almost sliced a Hollow clean in half while flipping over its back like it was a plaything, Shinji sidled up next to you, hands in his pockets, lazy grin in place, and said, “Oi, yer dad teach ya that, or are you just naturally mental?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji knew you were Zaraki’s kiddo before you even opened your mouth; it was in the swagger, the craze in your eyes, the grin that promised chaos.

˚₊‧꒰ა First date was not so much a date as it was Shinji daring you to join him for sake and terrible karaoke in some dive bar on the far side of the Seireitei. You had stole the microphone halfway through and belted out a foul-mouthed drinking song so gloriously badly that Shinji damn near proposed on the spot.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Yer a bloody nightmare,” he told you later, arm slung round your shoulders, dragging you close enough to smell the cheap alcohol on his breath, “and I’m already in too deep.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You sparred constantly, usually ending with you pinning him or he pinning you, both of you panting and laughing and occasionally snogging against the ground until someone threw a sandal at your heads.

˚₊‧꒰ა Zaraki didn’t hate Shinji, which was about the highest praise Shinji could’ve asked for, even though your father muttered things like, “At least the tosser’s got some teeth,”

˚₊‧꒰ა “If he so much as makes ya cry, girl,” Zaraki warned once, cracking his knuckles loudly enough to make the table rattle, “I’ll break every bleedin’ rib in his body.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You delighted in testing Shinji’s patience, picking fights with him in the middle of Division meetings, stealing his captain’s haori and wearing it as a dress, sneaking sake into his paperwork stacks.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Oi, love,” he drawled once when he caught you sneaking through his window at midnight, “you come here to kill me or kiss me?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji was a sucker for your wild, reckless laughter, the way you treated every battle like a bloody dance floor, the way you made the world feel sharp and electric again.

˚₊‧꒰ა He let you crash at his place whenever you wanted, sprawling across his bed like a queen, yelling at him to bring snacks and sake as if you owned the place, which, honestly, you kind of did.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once dyed his hair pink as a prank while he was asleep; he wore it for three days just to piss off everyone at the Captain’s meetings and you laughed so hard you cried.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Don’t threaten me with a good time, love,” he grinned when you teased him about being whipped, dragging you into his lap with no effort at all.

˚₊‧꒰ა You’d drag him to family dinners with Zaraki and Yachiru where someone usually bled before dessert; and he never complained once, even when he lost three teeth once from a ‘friendly’ brawl.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once dared Shinji to fight you with one hand tied behind his back; he won, but only because he cheated and used his mouth to pin your wrist to the floor.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You’re bloody trouble,” he whispered into your hair once, after dragging you laughing into bed after a fight, “and I’m the idiot who loves it.”

Kurosaki Ichigo

˚₊‧꒰ა When this little strawberry found out who your dad was after you’d already knocked him flat during a training match, it made the whole situation even worse, because now he had bruises and the mental image of Zaraki’s murderous glare burning holes in his back.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Wait! Zaraki’s your dad?! Seriously?! That’s...that’s not even fair,” Ichigo groaned, rubbing his ribs while you leaned smugly on your sword.

˚₊‧꒰ა You just grinned and replied, “If you’re gonna date me, you’d better stop whining and fight harder, Kurosaki.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Ichigo thought dating you was going to be exhausting, and he was completely right, but he also never had more fun in his life.

˚₊‧꒰ა You dragged him headfirst into chaos on the regular—training in the middle of the night, brawls in underground rings, Hollow bait missions you definitely weren’t authorised to take part in.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d show up late home with a busted lip and grass in his hair, muttering, “Don’t ask,” while you stood behind him looking smug and completely unbothered.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Your old man hates me,” he muttered after the third time Zaraki cracked his knuckles at him in the hallway; you just shrugged and said, “He hates everyone.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He (once) tried to kiss you in the hallway before a mission. Zaraki walked past, snorted like a bull, and Ichigo very calmly walked into a wall.

˚₊‧꒰ა You thought it was adorable how flustered he got around your family, especially since he could slice through a Menos like butter but couldn’t make eye contact with your dad for more than three seconds.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You alright there, Kurosaki?” you asked sweetly, resting your chin on his shoulder during dinner while Zaraki loomed five feet away, ready to challenge him to a duel.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once kicked him through a wall during a spar and offered him a hand while laughing, “You done being a wimp yet?” and he grabbed it, grumbling, “Hell no.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He never got used to how casual you were about injuries, like returning from missions covered in blood and saying, “It’s not mine” while stealing his rice.

˚₊‧꒰ა At least he was always there to patch up your wounds even when you insisted you were fine, muttering, “Stop moving, idiot, or I’m tying you down,” and you grinned because you knew he meant it.

˚₊‧꒰ა He once snuck into your room to surprise you and ended up on the business end of your zanpakuto because you were half-asleep and reacted on instinct.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Next time,” you mumbled, sheathing the blade, “knock first or I’ll carve your name into my wall with your blood.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Like typical guys, he secretly liked when you wore his black undershirt post-battle, even though it was way too long on you and covered in dust, because it meant you were still breathing.

˚₊‧꒰ა He respected the hell out of your strength but never tried to compete with it—he wasn’t interested in being stronger than you, only in being strong with you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite being constantly stressed around your dad, Ichigo somehow earned Zaraki’s grudging approval by throwing himself in front of you during a mission once and almost getting crushed for it.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Tch,” Zaraki said after dragging him out of the dirt, “Ya might be an idiot, but you’re a tough one. Don’t died cuz we still gotta fight later.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You always made Ichigo feel like the world was on fire, but in a way that made him want to run toward the flames instead of away from them.

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