Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

Warning: This fic contains M/M Slash. GrimmIchi. Smut. Some Fluff. Swearing. Blackmail.

That actress with the small tits and short black hair is on the cover of some fancy celebrity magazine. I actually have to stop in the middle of busy Karakura city to take it all in. She lies on her back on white sheets, naked but covering her bits, looking back at me with lust filled eyes. She's become an A-lister all thanks to the man lying – just as equally naked, beside her.

'SECRETS TO SEX,' in big bold bright pink written across the middle left hand corner and 'KARAKURA'S HOTTEST CELEBS,' written in yellow below it catches my attention next. But all the while, I keep glancing at the man with the orange hair and lean lightly tanned body. Fuck. What I would do to have him.

"Hey, you gonna buy that magazine or stare at it all day?" An old man with a strong accent stops me from looking at the glossy cover.

"I was thinking I coulda taken a better picture," I hold up the digital SLR camera in my hand, the strap around my neck giving me extra assurance that I won't drop it.

He scoffs, handing me a copy. I fish through my pocket and pull out a lousy crumpled five dollar note. Handing it to him, grabbing the semi thick magazine and wasting no time in leaving, I shout thanks and wave a hand over my head to the man behind me.

There's a double page spread on the two. More images inside the magazine and even more writing. I sit by the open window of my apartment, listening to the cars go by and the crashes of the ocean water below me. It's hot, the air humid – but having my top off and a slight breeze come in every few seconds is enough to satiate me.

The spread's all about their newest movie, but it still gives me more information on them. The female, Rukia Kuchiki has moved from Japan to pursue more recognition, starring in the newest block buster film with a very well-known actor, Ichigo Kurosaki. I can say she's landed it big in a short amount of time thanks to that sex scene with Kurosaki.

I muffle my laugh for his obnoxiously bright orange hair – but not in a bad way. I can't complain about the colour of my hair, so I suppose it's what's got everyone's attraction to him.

I'm yet to get a picture of him.

The lens of my camera glints back at me. I grab it, thinking about my images and their quality in particular. When I click through the play back, the latest image of celebrity I've taken pops up.

Renji, the coke dealing felon turned model is caught in my camera, in a still of him walking down the street, Ray Bans and a casual baggy style of clothing on him. In the magazines he's literally not wearing anything, showing off his ripped physique, vibrant red hair and tribal tattoo's. I can't help but sigh when I look at the image. It's good –yes. It's high quality –definitely. But it's…boring. It's something every other guy out there could take easily. Yeah, I could give it into Soul Society magazine but for what? Probably enough to pay the rent and buy some extra equipment for myself, but it ends there. Until next time, they'll tell me to bring in more pictures and I'll continue stalking, trying to take a picture that will shake the earth from below their feet.

SEXTA is going off tonight. The nightclub is situated on a strip street in the city filled with various other nightclubs, small restaurants usually open till very late to accommodate those who choose to get fucked up then eat, and strip joints. I don't usually go out a lot, but since Starrk, my best friend heard from his boss that some of the hottest and biggest stars were going to be at SEXTA tonight, I had to be there. It was probably the only chance I got to take some good snaps of these celebrities before they started getting busy working on films, music videos and modelling work.

So here I sat, sipping on a vodka lemon, camera strap around my neck with bold white 'CANON' writing contrasting against the black of my shirt. I'm watching myself and the crowd dancing behind me while looking in front of me. Two large mirrors rebound flashing pink, yellow and blue lights as loud house music blares and vibrates the floor under my feet. I got my hair slicked back like I usually have it, pink and yellow lights changing the colour of my light blue hair into random colours. It amuses me actually, since it makes my hair remind me of fairy floss. I finish my drink, calling for the busty blonde babe working in a black lace bra, panties and stockings for a new drink. I wink while she hands me my drink, smiling at me and accepting the notes I hand her.

Soon I'm out of my seat with my drink, making my way up the small set of stairs that lead up to the VIP section. I look down from the small stage above the dance floor and watch the large sweaty crowd moving, dancing; some making out while others are already getting smashed off their faces on alcohol. When I make it to the top, I'm greeted by a familiar face.

"Grimmjow!" It's Starrk, he's smiling at me, gesturing me to him.

"Hey, man!" I grin, shaking hands as a greeting. He's wearing a white undershirt tucked into black slacks and shiny black shoes, his waves of brown hair let loose and his grey slanted eyes look at me.

"Kick back, have a few drinks in the VIP," he says, pulling the red rope out of its hook that's been blocking non-VIP's from entering this section of the club. He pulls it out of the way, letting me into the VIP section.

"Will do," I smirk. "Oh yeah, see any celebs in here?"

Starrk smiles, "Yeah, man. There's a few. Get some good pictures, will ya?"

I laugh. "Fucking oath I will."

The VIP section of the club has a better view than being down on the ground floor. From up here it lets me look down on the dance floor over black and gold patterned railings like a type of indoor balcony. There's a separate bar up here with more women bartenders working in lingerie, heavy makeup packed onto their faces and hair done up. The walls are painted a dark red with more black patterns pressed into them. Different expensive perfumes clog my nose, from fruity to edgy. I'm glad I don't smell the sweaty mess of the dancers outside VIP.

The separate lounge area consists of two black leather lounges. There are a few people up here, and it's not long before a fine body bumps into me and I turn to look. I don't have time to speak because her mouth is already open and her eyes are glued to my camera like a vulture about to go in for the kill.

"OOOh! You're some type of photographer or what?" She lisps, pushing long green curled strands of hair over her shoulder. "I love cameras. You can snap as many pictures as you like!"

I smile at her getting my camera ready, "Sure," I say, snapping a few pictures while she poses and giggles, dressed in a short fitting dress and stilettos. I watch her try to take a sip of the drink she has in hand but the black straw goes the wrong way and instead of going into her mouth, it goes up her nose. I can't stop myself from laughing out loud at her, making sure to get a picture of that.

"Hey, you're that model, yeah?"

She giggles, "Yeeeeeeees! You guessed…RIGHT!"

"Oh my god, she's so drunk," An unfamiliar face comes into view. "Sorry, Nel is a little, uh…"

"I can tell," I smirk.

From what I know, Nel, or rather, her full name Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck is a half Japanese half Spanish model who usually does shoots for Street cars and racing tournaments. I watch the woman take her away, guessing she's a close friend or something since I didn't find her familiar at all. I stand there for a moment, watching her stumble away. I look at the number of pictures I have left. It's more than plenty so I have no need to worry about the amount of pictures I take. It's fun snapping shots of known people while at a club getting enough to drink and music loud enough to make my ears ring for days. It's just a head case when I have to look through 500+ images and choose the good ones that will make me some good money.

So far the night has been going good. I've been enjoying myself so much that I didn't realise the time go by so quickly. It's already 3am and by the looks of it, no one is leaving any time soon. I stroll over to the bar, already feeling extremely tipsy while I lean on the counter and gesture for the bartender with my hand. I ask for the preferred drink I've been sipping on the whole night since I've been here, feeling the vodka swirling inside of me.

I don't expect to see any of the celebrities I've come for. It's all good; I've seen a lot of female and male models –one of them leaning close to me at the bar while he appears to be leaning towards a more drunken state. He smiles at me, a long piano like grin, blonde hair cut in a perfect bob with a straight cut fringe.

He touches my arm, "Hey, I'm Shinji. Which company do you model for, sexy booooy?"

I choke on my drink. Did he just call me a model? And sexy booooy? Damn. If I wasn't so busy snapping pictures of celebrities (which are so stuck up they need help getting their damned heads out of their own arses), I'd consider taking my top off and let all that working out get me the money. Probably fuck this little twink while I'm at it. I didn't think about that before.

"Shinji, huh?" I repeat his name.

He continues gazing at me, touching my arm, slowly getting closer and closer until I feel his smaller warm body rub against mine. He bites his bottom lip, watching me silently while the music is thumping through my entire body. Nah man, I'm not even drunk yet. I'm not boning this guy no matter how good looking he is. I'm working tonight and I'm not letting myself get distracted before I get a chance to get pictures of –

Oh hell no.

I almost drop my camera from how quickly I'm pulling the lens cap off, getting it ready. Right before me, ordering a drink at the bar is that little titty actress I saw on the cover of that fancy celebrity magazine I read a few days before. No shit. It's Rukia Kuchiki.

Her short black hair is styled to flick out at the ends, her big grey eyes covered in dark eyeliner, red lipstick and a red backless dress on her petite figure. She looks beautiful, I have to admit, and getting pictures of her will surely sell fast especially since she's very popular at the moment. I aim the camera up to get a full body shot, Rukia still oblivious to me. I take a few snaps, the flash from the camera quickly catching her attention. She turns her head to look at me, mouth open slightly. When I pull the camera away and smile at her she takes her drink and approaches me shortly after.

"What the hell!" She yells at me.

"Sorry, babe. Couldn't resist," I smirk when she rolls her eyes.

"Look, if you want a picture, don't surprise me like that, asshole."

"Damn, don't be so rude, girl. For all you know I could be a hot shot model getting paid some big money."

Shinji thought I was a model, so maybe Rukia would too. It's funny actually, because she looks like she considers my 'career' that I don't have. Clearly I look like a photographer, or in her case…

"Paparazzi," Rukia says, annoyed.

"Don't believe me? Or did the camera give it away, Kuchiki?"

"Your camera gave it away. If you weren't with it though…" she looks me up and down, "I would have believed you were a model."

I laugh. "Can I get a picture?" But before she gets a chance to answer, I'm already snapping at least ten pictures of her –close up too. "Too late, I'm taken em anyway!"

She huffs, walking away.

"Yes! Ass shot!" I yell behind her, snapping more pictures of that ass. She's gone out of my view in seconds. I smirk, looking through the images quickly. I look off to the side, seeing Shinji that was once trying to get in my pants now getting freakishly close with some tall guy with long black hair.

So if I've seen Rukia Kuchiki tonight, I have a feeling that the person I've wanted to see the most is most likely to be here. He has to be. From what I've read, this actor spends many of his time with the actress Rukia. I finish up the drink I've suddenly forgotten about, place the empty glass on the bench and fish my way through the small crowd of drunken dancing people towards the toilets.

I don't realise that all the drinks I've consumed tonight has slowly, but surely gotten me drunk. But I'm not the type of drunk to forget what I do, or what I say. I feel myself swaying towards the grey stalls, suddenly feeling paranoid even though there are not many people in the toilets. I enter the stall, almost falling face first into the toilet but I stop myself when my arms fling out in time to grab the wall. I look down in the toilet bowl, feeling a big smile etching at my lips. I take a piss, flush the toilet then stumble out of the stall because it's so damn small and there's toilet paper sticking to my shoes. I lean over to rip it off, oblivious to my surroundings. I bend back up; look into the mirror and come eye to eye with the man I've been looking for the whole night.

Big brown eyes stare into my own. He has his back to me, hands under the sink while water runs over his fingers. He looks in the mirror in front of him to me, while I look back at myself and him in the mirror in front of me. I smirk at him, I see him smile, and then his eyes cast downwards as he blushes.

Oh shit. I actually fucking found him.

I'm frozen to the spot for a few seconds as my heart picks up and I have the urge to talk to him from this extreme confidence I feel from the alcohol. When he looks back into the mirror at me, his pupils are dilated. I walk towards him and stand beside him as I start washing my hands. He turns the tap off. I turn mine off, looking down at the camera that's dangling by my torso as its being held up by the strap around my neck.

"I've been looking for you all night, berry."

He frowns when I look up at him. "What the fuck?"

"What?" I ask back. "I'm not that drunk, am I?"

He smiles at this, making me feel funny. We look at each other for a moment.

"Do I know you?" He asks.

"No, but you will soon enough." I wipe my wet hands on my jeans and grab my camera. I get it ready as he continues to stand there, watching me.

"Okay, say cheese," I'm breathless. Swaying again, I drop the camera but it doesn't smash against the hard tile, thank god. Instead it dangles around because the strap around my neck stops it from falling to the floor.

I look straight at him again. "Well, shit. That almost went downhill."

"Maybe it should have broken, stupid ass paparazzi. How you get in here anyway?"

I sneer.

"I got in here cause I'm on the list. Fuck you celebrities need to pull your damn head out of yer ass."

He gives me a dirty look, and even though I don't like it when people give me those kinds of looks, I still think he's too fucking beautiful and he looks so damn good, even in this shitty lighting.

I've seen him in a lot of magazines and some movies, yet he looks better in person, that orange hair spiked up, lean body nice and lightly tanned, even his voice is nice to listen to.

He is perfection. It pisses me off.

I take my time to check him out from top to bottom. He's dressed in a form fitting grey button down short sleeve shirt that's got the top two buttons undone, showing some skin I'd like to lick. He has tight black G-STAR raw jeans on and dark grey shoes.

I want him.

"What the hell are you looking at, pervert!" He frowns, taking a step back.

I grin at him which makes him look uneasy.

"Let me get some pictures and I'll leave you alone, k?"

"If you want pictures, go online and search up 'Ichigo Kurosaki,' okay, dumbass? Now leave me alone!"

Damn, I shouldn't have gone and got myself drunk. The first time I meet Ichigo Kurosaki, one of Japan's most well-known, hottest and successful actor, I blow it. I listen to the thumping of the bass from the music outside the bathroom. We're both quiet, and I don't understand why he hasn't left yet. Maybe he's looking at me because he wants to see what I'll do? But then it suddenly clicks and I smirk, sure that he's still here because he's somewhat interested in me even though he's being stubborn and playing hard with me.

"Do you really want me to leave you alone?" I murmur lowly, smirking.

He visibly shudders. Is it from the way I'm looking at him, or the way my voice sounds right now?

I take a step towards him; he's still glued to the spot where he stands.

"Yes," he says, but I don't believe him.

"Aw, come on, I-chi-go."

He looks straight into my eyes. I have my camera ready. I snap a close up which makes him fling his hand up. "Jerk!" He yells, storming out of the bathroom.

I follow behind, close enough to not lose sight of him, but still further away so he doesn't realise that I'm stalking him in the club. I don't go for any more drinks because I've got my mind set on Ichigo and I have a feeling I'll sober up quickly since I can handle my alcohol and I only had enough to get me a little drunk. I'm probably acting really creepy and stalker like right now but I don't care. I'll get a piece of him, even if it means following him out the back door of the club.

Where could he be going? Before I get a chance to figure that out, I stop and hide behind the brick wall because I hear him stop and start talking softly with someone. I peak around the corner stealthily so Ichigo doesn't see me. I see his back to me and in front of him is a familiar red head. The male model, Renji Abarai speaks with him, dressed in a baggy faded pair of ripped jeans, red flannel with black singlet underneath and a black bandana tied around his head.

They don't see me or hear me. Good. I press my ear closer to them, struggling to hear too well from the music blaring from inside, or the fact that getting drunk has impaired my hearing slightly. But it's not too bad because I can hear them enough to understand what's going on.

"Hey, you got it?" Ichigo asks and Renji shuffles through low cut deep pockets.

I watch him pull out a small baggie. "Yeah, man," he grins at Ichigo.

Ichigo hands Renji some notes and is given the baggie.

Well, well, well. Who would have guessed? I wouldn't have pinned famous, successful, beautiful Ichigo kurosaki to be into party drugs like that. A better look at it in his hand and I realise its powdered cocaine. I get my camera ready, making sure to take off the flash so I don't catch their attention, and besides, the lighting is fine out here since there's street lights.

I snap a few shots. The shots show so much. Imagine the type of money I'd make selling this to publishers? I'd make so much, and get so much recognition for catching Ichigo Kurosaki buying drugs from a model who used to sell drugs like he did just then. Old habits die hard.

I take some more pictures and more and more until I'm certain I've got enough to choose from, especially if they'll pay me more for more pictures. When I hear a door slam, I quickly turn away from the wall because Ichigo and Renji quickly snap their heads in the direction of the sound. Ichigo's footsteps sound against the hard ground moments later and before he rounds the corner I'm already back inside the club.

I stand in the corner, watching him walk in alone, acting all antsy and shit.

As I stand there I realise that I can give in those pictures today.

I could.

Go home, sleep off the drunkenness and walk right into a publishing building in the afternoon and sell the images I just took. But among the loud music, dancing crowds and alcohol in my system, I think of a better idea. Why shouldn't I have some fun first? Why not use these images as blackmail to poor little Ichigo. I could get him to do anything I wanted with a little threat to his career. I've got the power in my hands. And he wouldn't be able to stop me, unless of course he didn't care about his fame? But I know that he cares, very much too. It's obvious in how hard he works to maintain so fit, and how good and professional he is as an actor.

The club is beginning to thin out now. A quick glance at the time and it's already five am. Ichigo has his back to me, standing on his own by the bar with a drink in his hand. He takes a sip and I lean in from behind, a grin eating up my face.

"Hey, berry," I whisper against his ear. He pulls away from the bar to look at me. His face surprised.

"Oh, it's you…"

"Yeah, it's me." I smile. He looks nervous.

Ichigo's eyes shift from my own to the camera in my hand. When his eyes shift back to mine, I can see the worry in his face. I proud myself on my bluntness, and right now I believe it's the time to tell Ichigo about what I just saw, and let him know what I want.

"If you're thinking I took some photos of you – you're absolutely right."

"W-wait, what?"

I smirk and nod.

"No…" His eyes go wide. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," I whisper.

I lean towards him, body against his, lips against his ear.

I grip his arm so he doesn't move away. His body stiffens against mine.

"I saw what you did, Kurosaki. I got so many pictures, too."

He remains quiet. I blow on his ear and he shivers.

"I want you, Ichigo. And I get what I want. So unless you want all of Karakura and the world to know you're involved with cocaine, I suggest you give me a call so we can figure out what to do about these pictures and information I got."

I slip my card into his hand. He grips the card like his life depends on it.

I pull away and look at him for a moment before I wink and walk away.

I know he'll call me.