Title: The Permanent Kind of Temporary
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: 11th Division, OC
AU... 'cause it's easier to write :D
Pairing: Yumichika/OC... Yep, you read that right.
Romance, Humour, with a dash of Action, and a spoonful of Drama for
good measure.
Rated M for hot scenes of, ahem, "love".
A/N: Uhm... What can I say? Sakurako was an RPC turned OC, and now
she's here. Yes, Yumichika is straight here. And don't worry, Sakurako
is no longer an RPC, because, hey, it would get awkward writing a
lemon with her and then role-playing her XD. So, Bleach is not mine,
Sakurako is, and reviews are love. Onward!
WARNING: This contains lime, and some dirty themes. Because Sakurako
and Yumichika are both closet perverts.
Summary: One feather-wearing, narcissistic fifth seat. One alcoholic,
chain-smoking sixth seat from Hell. Sake. Sword fights. Handcuffs. Oh
yes, there will be blood.
Story:
Chapter One: I curse myself for being born on November fourth
It all started with a simple comment. That's it, that's all.
But that comment flung the shit that would later hit the fan, and
subsequently attract the shit-hawks that came to feed off their
misfortune.
It was the holiday season in Seireitei. Almost everyone was
celebrating, lest the other residents' happiness and cheer be shoved
in your face. The holidays were also a prime time for parties,
especially for the Eleventh Division, because, really, who doesn't
love a good drink on someone else's tab? Ikeda Sakurako, current sixth
seat, wasn't even entirely sure whose tab they were using, all she
knew was she wasn't paying, and that was good. Her dark brown eyes
scanned the bar- Kenpachi was talking loudly with another captain
(presumably Kyouraku, as she could see pink), about who had the nicest
chest in the Gotei Thirteen. 'Probably Rangiku, 'cause it sure as Hell
isn't me,' she thought dryly, sparing a glance at he strawberry-blond
drinking buddy on the stool next to her. Ikkaku was trying to pick a
fight with someone who wasn't responding or in the mood, which just
resulted in him getting pissed. And Yumichika was-
"Mou, Ikeda! Have another shot!" Matsumoto yelled over the
other voices, stopping Sakurako from her quest to find the pretty
fifth seat. "Rangiku, I've already had eight! I'm going to get tipsy
soon!" She hollered back. It was true, because both Sakurako and
Matsumoto had a reputation of being the females most able to hold
their liquor in all the divisions. Between the two, there was almost
no man they couldn't out drink (Renji, Iba and Hisagi were among their
conquests).
"So? Make it nine!" She laughed, signaling the bartender. Cups
were filled, and only then did Sakurako swivel around to the left. She
finally registered who it was; Yumichika, prettily taking a sip from
his drink. 'Asshole', She thought. 'He could've said hi at least...'
As if on cue, he waved slightly. She scowled. He ignored her, and
looked over her to talk to Matsumoto. "When did you get here?" He
questioned. They had been here for three hours, and she hadn't been
there when they arrived. "Half hour, why?" She asked. He shrugged.
"Just wondering. Bartender!" Sakurako sighed lightly. Yes, she knew
the fifth seat saw her as an irritance, but he didn't have to be such
a jerk about it.
He then turned to her, eyes glinting slightly. "Ikeda-chan," He
said, a small, evil smile slowly spreading over his features. "When's
your brithday?" She arched an eyebrow. Weird question. "November
fourth, why?" She asked, suspicion blatant in her tone. "Well, I
overheard the mot interesting discussion about birthdays the other day."
"Oh? And what was the idea?"
"Well, the average gestation for a person is nine months, correct?"
"Right, so?"
"So, that means one's parents would have had to had relations nine
months prior to the date of birth."
"What are you getting at?"
He smiled sweetly. "It means, Sakurako, that your parents had
to 'go at It' over the holidays. Get it?" Her jaw went slack. He had
just completely ruined the season for her, as it would now be forever
tied to images of her parent's naked bodies intertwined together. She
let out an involuntary shudder, and he laughed. So did Matsumoto, but
she was too drunk to remember the day after. "Jackass! Thanks a lot!
Now I can't even enjoy my damn drink..." She mumbled the last bit,
fury petering out near the end. "So order a better one." She huffed.
He was infuriating sometimes. "They all taste the same..." She
muttered under her breath.
"No, they don't."
"Yes they do."
"No, they really don't."
"Oh fuck off, Yumichika."
"Now, that's not a very nice way to speak to your superior, is it?"
"One seat, Ayasegawa. One fucking seat."
"And that one seat gives me authority over you."
She shot him a look that spelled death. "I said fuck off." She
hissed, turning the stool towards Matsumoto, only to find her friend
missing. Perfect. Now she was stuck with the Fruitcake for company.
She 'Tch'-d under her breath and took another drink. "I thought they
all tasted the same," He quipped. "I thought you said they didn't,"
She shot back. It would've gone on like this for hours, had someone
not started playing music just then. It started soft, then slowly
built in volume, eliciting a hush over the room. She and the Fruitcake
sighed simutaineously in annoyance as, one by one, couples began
pairing off to dance. The whole love thing was of no intrest to either
of them. Sex was another matter, but love? Yumichika dated, but no one
was quite up to his standards. Sakurako had had her heart ripped out
and curshed too many times to care anymore.
"I don't suppose you're intrested in a dance?" He drawled. She
snorted. "And have to look at you and your feathers with a straight
face? Hell, no." He sat up, miffed at her comment. "At least I don't
have to worry about my partner informing me that my breasts are not up
to standards." A poison smirk. She inwardly cringed at the memory of a
durnken Ikkaku telling her just that. She broke his jaw, of course,
and while the resulting fight ended in his favour, she felt she had
made her point. "He's not my partner, first off. He's like the jackass
older brother I never had. And second, where do you get off telling me
I have small boobs? Last time I checked, a C cup is classified as
average."
"I never called them small. I said your partner thought they were
small. And didn't you guys sleep together once?"
"Once. Like, twenty years ago. Worst sex ever. We were both too drunk
to do anything right. And weren't you sworn to secrecy?"
"Maybe."
"Asshole."
"Bitch."
"Fucker."
"Skank."
"Fruitcake."
He glared hard at her. Of all the insults she could've fired
out, she chose the one that was absolutely taboo. Realizing her grave
error, she slapped a hand over her mouth almost as soon as the word
was out. "I, uh-"
"Now, why would you call me something as ugly and disgusting as
a fruitcake?" He practically purred. Damn, she was in trouble now. "I
personally think-" He cut off to glance around the room, "That I am
more like that red velvet cake over there." He pulled a smirk that was
nothing short of seductive. She mentally cursed herself. "Listen, I
really don't want to hear-" But before she could finish her protest,
he had begun to speak again. "First off, the outside is more than just
a little aesthetically pleasing. The colour is something to be envied
by all other, less-superior flavours. Then there's the taste. Smooth
and delicious, something that melts in your mouth and leaves you
begging for more." The more he described himself- err, the cake, the
more uncomfortable Sakurako became. "Also, if you think about it-"
"Okay, okay! Stop! Seriously, I get it! You've made your damn
point. You win. Just... Please stop talking!" An incredibly red-faced
Sakurako interrupted loudly. Honestly, this was excruciating for her
to keep listening to. Not to mention that fact that she was slightly
turned on by his words and tone of voice. That was obviously the
alcohol's fault, because really, what other explaination could there be?
His self-satisfied smirk was met with one of her patented Ikeda-
Approved Glares. She was about to shoot off another remark, when she
felt a sharp tug on her arm. "Ne, Ikeda, why're you always so pissy?"
Matsumoto interrupted. "I mean, you never smile, unless you're beating
the crap outta someone. What gives?" Sakurako blinked. She could
almost taste the alcohol on he friend's breath. So she was drunk
already? That was quick. Yanking her arm from Matsumoto's grip, she
cooly answered, " That's not true. I smile when I'm drunk, when I'm
smoking and after good sex." Matsumoto folded her arms across her
chest- quite a feat, considering the size of her breasts. "That
doesn't count. I think it's because you need a boyfriend," She said
matter-of-factly. Sakurako gagged. Yumichika began to laugh beside
her. "Fucking- Are you serious? I'm fine. Fine. I don't need anyone,
or a love life," She growled. "What love life?" Yumichika asked
innocently. "You just shut the Hell up." Another exchange of a smirk
to a scowl was made between the two.
She sighed heavily. "I really hate you sometimes, you know
that?" He smiled in a sickeningly sweet manner. "I know."
•••
She had no Idea how much she had drank in the two hours that
had passed. She was more than buzzed, and alone at the bar. Matsumoto
had long since disappeared somewhere with Hisagi, maybe even in the
bathroom. She sort of maybe remembered briefly flirting with Izuru. It
had led to no where fast, obviously. She did once have a small crush
on the man, but they were hopelessly incompatible. He was quiet and
sweet-tempered. She had a habit of yelling in people's faces and being
a general bitch.
With another swig of the liquor, she glanced around the almost
empty room. Everyone had either gone home or passed out. Not nearly as
drunk as she wanted to be, she took another drink, relishing in the
feeling of the sake burning her throat. A heavy sigh, and she turned
to the bartender. "Another round, if you don't mind," She said. The
middle-aged man behind the counter shook his head. "Can't. I have to
cut you off. Not to mention the fact that I'm closing up in ten
minutes." Disappointed, she said, "I understand. Any chance I can
crash in your back room?" He shook his head again. "Sorry. I'm pretty
sure it's occupied, y'know what I mean?" She laughed humourlessly.
"Yeah. It's just I think I might pass out before I get home..."
"Know anyone who can walk you back?"
"I think everyone from my division left..."
"Baldy and Eyebrow boy are still here. Didn't you walk in with them?"
Surprised at his accurate description of her... People, she
swiveled around. Sure enough, there they were. Yumichika was watching
Ikkaku hit on some semi-unconcious girl, no doubt mentally filing this
incident away for future blackmail.
She inhaled deeply, then gave a tired smile to the bartender.
"Thanks. Guess I'll collect my idiots an go home, ne?" He laughed
quietly. "Sure. I'll put it on the tab. And Ikeda? Do us both a favour
and don't do anything stupid, okay?"
"I make no promises."
"You're a real piece of work, Ikeda."
"I've been called worse. Take care."
"Mm. You too."
She hopped off her stool (given the fact that she only stood
five-foot-four, her feet were several inches off the ground), and
began to slowly make her way across the bar. 'No reason to rush my
next headache,' She thought bitterly. If she knew her division's fifth
seat, then he would no doubt have a scathing remark about her current
appearance. Damn narcissist and his stupid-ass feathers.
When she was about three steps away, Yumichika finally noticed
her presence. "I thought you would have passed out by now," He
sniffed. She rolled her eyes. "Mm, whatever. I need you to take me
home." He quirked an eyebrow, and she immedately realized how what she
just said came across. "Let's try that again. I need someone to take
me back, otherwise I might pass out in a ditch or something. And
Ikkaku looks a little preoccupied, so you have to do it." She shifted
her weight to her other foot, and awaited his response. A knowing look
flicked across his features. "Ah, that's right, that happened to you
once, didn't it?"
She nodded. "Right. And that was unpleaseant beyond all
believeablity. I woke up with some homeless guy spooning me." She
made a face. "Why should I?" He asked smartly, crossing his arms and
turning to face her. She sighed. "I... Have no good reason, just...
Please? Please help me out this one time, an I'll owe you one."
"Owe me two and you have an escort."
"Fine, fine, sure, whatever."
"And you can't be a bitch to me."
"Then you can't be snide and condescending."
"Agreed."
They both turned to Ikkaku, who literally had the woman passed
out on his arm. "Later, Ikkaku. I'm taking Ikeda back." He nodded
absentmindedly. "Have fun, and don't forget the handcuffs," Sakurako
purred. He mumbled something unintelligible, no doubt a snappy
comeback to her remark.
She nodded to Yumichika. "Let's go," He said, starting for the
door. She followed closely behind, making sure to keep up.
•••
She sucked in a breath of cold air. The winter chill was a
sharp contrast to her liquor tainted breath, which was warm on her
tongue and throat. He showed no break in his stride when then stepped
out, and she bit back a comment that compared him to a marble statue.
Not that he would have been offended at first, until she specified
which statue. Then he may have pushed her into the ditch and left her
there. She could almost picture his expression when he explained what
happened to her body when they found her. 'No sir, I was not aware
that a family of small vermin had taken up residence in her hollowed
out carcas.' She snorted at the picture of his perfectly feighned
innocence when he would be questioned by the authorities.
He stopped abrubtly and turned around to face her. "Something
funny, Ikeda? Or are you just that wasted?" He leaned in close to her
face. Her cheeks became more flushed than before. No more than four
inches separated their lips. She drew back a bit. "Ah, no. Just
wondering how far we are." He, too, pulled away. "Not far. Can you
stay standing for another ten minutes?" She nodded briskly, preferring
to keep her mouth shut at this praticular time. "Good, because I would
be less than thrilled if I had to carry you back." Her light blush was
replaced with a sly smile. "Aw, are you volunteering? And here I
thought you didn't like me." Without another word, he turned around
and continued to walk. She blinked twice and continued to follow. 'The
Hell was that?" She thought, brow knitting in confusion. That never
happened. He never got that close. Hell, she didn't even think he had
even touched her before. Like, not even to hit or something.
She was having a hard time keeping up. He was more than likely
much, much more sober than she was, and as such had no trouble moving
forward. Sakurako was a different story. She would stumble
occasionally, not quite falling, or maybe stray off to the side a bit.
Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed to slow down a little for
her to allow her to catch up.
By the time they had reached the Eleventh Division barracks,
she felt as though her legs would simply buckle at any moment.
"Where's your quarters?" He asked, glancing sideways at her. She
blinked. "Wha...?" He sighed, "Your apartment. Where is it?" She
wrinkled her nose. "Well, let's see. Since I rank one seat below you,
it would stand to reason that I live across fom you. Duh." He prettily
scowled down at her. "You could have just told me."
"Yeah, but that wouldn't be any fun."
"In that case, I'll leave you to open your own door. Think you can
manage?"
"What the Hell happened to not being snide?"
"Hey, I fufilled what was asked of me. The conditions no longer apply."
"Izzat so?"
"It is for me. You still owe me. My first favour? You're on newbie
sorting duty tommorow. We're recieveing some new recruits, and you're
going to be running drills."
"The Hell I am."
"And my second favour? You can't be a bitch to me. Again. Ever. It's
annoying and unsightly."
"Fuck no."
He shrugged. "Then see what happens," he said. "What? What do
you plan to do to me?" Her tone was challenging him to do anything. As
far as she was concerned, she was totally untouchable in this
situation. He narrowed his eyes, and she stared back with indigance.
"What I can do to you?" he asked softly, "If you continue to play this
game with me, Ikeda, I will show you exactly what it is I can do to
you." She glared sharply. "What? Come on, let's play. What can you do
to me?" She moved forward a few steps, almost completely closing any
distance between them.
"Fine. I was going to be the mature adult here, but that's
clearly not going to work with you." Before she could form a reaction,
he had placed both his hands on her upper arms and pushed her against
the wall. "Blatant acts of insubordination will not be tolerated,
Ikeda," he whispered hotly next to her ear. She shivered. This was
terrifying. This was not what she expected at all. Her breath became
shallow, and her mind completely coulded over. If his intention was to
kill her, then she didn't stand a chance. Even when she was sober, the
difference between the abilities of a sixth seat and that of a fifth
seat were vastly different.
His eyes bored into hers, and she felt so very exposed. She
wanted to hide, to run into her house and sleep off the inevetable
hangover. Yumichika was having none of her cowardice. A small part of
her wished that he would simply hurt her and move on. The other part
wished to stay like this. Face to face, chest to chest, it had been
too long since anyone had been this close to her.
She panicked when he pressed his lips to hers. Froze
completely. Sakurako was sure that she stopped breathing at first.
When she did breathe in, it was in a loud gasp against his mouth. He
wasted no opportunity she offered, and took this chance to glide his
tongue past her lips and into her mouth. Her hands remained limp at
her side, but she would later recall the distinct feeling of him
lightly running his fingertips up and down, almost as teasing as his
tongue.
A part of her mind numbly wondered what Matsumoto would think
of her right now, pressed against a wall and being kissed by a man she
regularly had homicidal thoughts and wishes for. Matsumoto probably
would have commended her tenacity. Had her mouth not been occupied,
she would have laughed, half at her friend, and half at her own lack of
will-power. God, she was pathetic sometimes.
His hands wove around her waist as he attached his mouth to he
neck, hearing her moans and gasps as he made his way around. He hit
the sweet spot on her neck, and she let him know by involuntarily
bucking her hips into his. He let out a pleased growl against her skin
as he began to lick and suck at the spot, marking her darkly. "A-
ah..." she gasped. The fact that he was now biting down -hard- was
enough to make the present ache between her legs even more profound.
As if by magic, her arms seemed to lift themselves up and around his
neck, pressing them closer together. The contact of his heated form
was driving her crazy, and she wanted him. She suddenly wished she had
worn a bra tonight when she felt her nipples stiffen as the kiss
intensified.
At this point he had moved down to suck on her collar bone, and
she made a move to wrap one of her legs around his waist, grinding her
hips into his. He hissed lightly as she dug her fingernails into his
shoulder blades, and he bit down hard on her skin. He was not a stupid
man, and could tell exactly where this would go if he continued. He
had meant just to invade her space, to psych her out into obedience.
He had to be drunk, otherwise, there was no way he would have touched
her. Not at all, not ever.
Just as Sakurako was making a move to grab his pants, he pulled
away, unwarpping his arms and stepping back. Sakurako backed into the
wall, allowing herself to slide onto the floor. "It's late," he said,
regarding her cooly, "You should go to bed. The grounds will not be
cleaning themselves." She could only nod dumbly as he walked to his
door, and watch silently as he closed it behind him without another
word. She took a few shaky breaths, before pulling an almost-empty
cigarette pack and lighter from her pocket. As she inhaled deeply, she
wondered what the fuck had just happened. More importantly, she was
pissed that he didn't finish what he started. Now she was aroused and
confused. With no other options, and a dwindling cancer-stick supply,
she picked herself up and entered her apartment.
What she needed was a cold shower, and what she wanted was to
get off. As she flopped on the couch, she groaned in frusteration,
rubbing her temples in annoyance. She sighed. Cold shower it is. She
reflected briefly as she stripped. He tasted like imported liquor and
exotic spices. She licked her lips, hating him for possessing such an
addicting flavour. This was all his fault.
•••
She tasted like heavy sake and peppermint.
They were not flavours that one would generally put together,
but she pulled it off just fine. In fact, he mused, when he had tasted
her mouth, he had thought it to be delicious. Just as the flavour of
her skin. Vanilla and plum blossom. He was honestly surprised that
someone like her would dare to wear a scent so feminine and soft. Then
again, with her brash manner and brave front, Ikeda Sakurako made it
easy to forget that she was, above all, a woman. A woman who clearly
wanted him, at least, wanted him at that praticular moment.
He sighed. As appealing as that sounded (and, at that moment,
he would have taken her), he was aware of the massive regret come
morning. What had surprised him most about the encounter was her
reaction. He expected her to at least protest, maybe try to swat him
away a little. Instead, she had reacted as if he was the greatest
thing since sliced bread. Like she was willing to take him on right
there in the hall.
God, but she was strange, though. She wasn't ugly, but she
wasn't beautiful, either. Had he just passed her by on the street, he
wouldn't have even graced her with a glance. She was almost painfully
average. Dark hair, dark eyes, shorter stature, skin that maybe spent
too much time training in the sun... There was nothing outwardly
special about her.
Personailty was a completely different animal. She was loud.
She was constantly pissed off at someone or something. He didn't doubt
that she was physically stronger than a substantial handful of men.
She acted like she constantly had something to prove, which, given her
life prior to becoming a shinigami, really came as no surprise. Well,
she sort of did have something to prove, being one of the ever-
dwindling handful of women in their squad. He was also certain that
she wouldn't mind giving anyone who insulted her a good what-for. She
was a fighter by nature, and it came out in almost everything she did.
Almost. He knew for a fact that, when she needed it to be, her
etiquitte was spectacular. She was the kind of shinigami who was
perfect for infiltration and information-gathering because of her
seamless ability to blend in with anyone, from the ladies of high-
society to the prostitutes of Rukongai. She was fiercely loyal to
anyone she thought deserving of it, and was the kind of friend who
wouldn't dream of letting you do something stupid without her.
He was drunk. He had to be. He couldn't even think of a better
reason why he would kiss her if he had been sober. Maybe he should
have left early, like he wanted to. He wasn't a lightweight, but sake
did funny things to his limitations and inhibitions.
He blinked a few times, eyes locked on his door.
One thing was for sure.
That bitch across the hall was one Hell of an enigma.
•••
A/N: I SO don't like how I ended that, but I couldn't really come up
with something better, either... Anyway, what did you think?Love it?
Hate it? Think I'm writing like for a sue? I swear that kiss will be
an important plot point, it's not just random... I dunno. Should I
even continue?
By the way, if you plan to flame/hate, please consider the following:
1. Is what I'm about to say an actual criticism, or am I just being an
ass because I can?
And 2. Will she even care if I flame her?
I don't know about the first one, but I definitely know the answer to
the second.
Anyhorse, you be nice and click that review button, k? Awesome