A/N: Just editing this story, it needed to be cleaned up a bit. This story was originally titled "Obsessions."
I-dée fixe:
an idea or desire that dominates the mind; an obsession
-o-
He does not know what he's doing here, neither should he be here. He stares silently at her window, his hand shaking as it grasps the hilt of his zanpakuto. He should not be in the real world right now, for he has no actual reason to be there. Soul Society thinks he is just checking on Rukia and that boy's progress in the living world, but he is actually here for an entirely different reason. On his last mission to the world of the living, he had sensed a familiar spiritual pressure. It was a weak one, so he chose to ignore it and continue about his way. Moments later, the presence became stronger and he found himself being attracted to the force.
There she was, clad in a tight fitting pink hoodie, with matching flats and black skinny jeans. She walks alone at night, occasionally glancing at her cellular device and giggling quietly, sliding up the screen to text a quick reply. Her long blue-black hair, which reaches just a bit below her underarm, is pulled back into a loose bun, that same lone stand falling between her amethysts orbs. She's exactly the same.
His heart clenches painfully at the realization that Hisana has apparently been reborn into the world of the living after her death in Soul Society. She does not remember him.
He follows her, flash stepping across the rooftops, his shadow herding her, protecting her from the dangers of the night. He notices that she seems carefree, all the guilt she had had from abandoning Rukia was now gone. She's beautiful, he thinks as she walks along the sidewalk, her tiny hands clutching onto the strap of the bag that's slung across her shoulder. He notices it reads "Karakura College" across the hem.
A sigh escapes his lips as he stares after her retreating form. He should not be here and yet he is unable to draw away.
-o-
Some months pass and he is unable to resist any longer. He must touch her, feel her, communicate with her somehow. He knows what will happen if Soul Society discovers what he's been doing, but for now he doesn't care. The noblemen fazes through her window and into her room, his face struggles to remain stoic when he hears Senbonzakura shouting in his head. He knows this is wrong. He does not care.
His shadow casts over her sleeping frame as he stands over her.
"Hisana," he whispers hoarsely. He knows she will not reply, but he allows himself the pleasure of saying her name, a name that has not been spoken of in over fifty years. His steely gray eyes narrow as they scan around her room. Drawings of bunnies and other woodland creatures taped along the peeling walls.
A smirk ghosts across his features, and he returns his eyes back to his slumbering wife, his usual hard gaze softening. The rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the gentle sound of her breathing from her parted lips.
Byakuya reaches forward to touch her, but stills his hand. He silently curses himself and draws away, eyes closing in frustration. He should not. This Hisana is not his, she does not remember him.
A small moan interrupts his thoughts, and his gaze draws back to her. She turns on her side, toward him, long ebony hair falling into her face, her small legs pushing the cover down to her ankles. That won't do. Without thinking, his hand reaches forward, brushing away the stubborn strands and resting on her cheek. Mortified, he begins to pull away but finds himself unable to move his hand. Instead, his thumb brushes against her cheek, tracing along her jaw line. She leans into his caresses, and his hand travels downward. Brushing along the plump of her breast and down toward her legs. Knowing hands inch up her nightgown, brushing against her panties. He slips a finger into her, and he is awarded with a small gasp of pleasure. His thumb searches for that spot, and her back arches. Cries of pleasure escape her lips, face flushed as she clenches around him. Another finger slips into her awaiting core and her moans increase in volume. He vows that he will be the only man to hear that sound. Moments later her back arches and she lets out a small mewl. She's adorable.
He hears her breath hitch and surprised, he turns back to her face. She has awoken.
Wide eyes stare up at him, and his heart lurches at the utter terror shone in them.
"His-"
"Get away from me!" she screams perhaps way louder than she needs too, he thinks. He is not thinking rationally, it happens so fast and he stumbles backward. She grabs her phone from the nightstand, dialing for help. She thinks of him as a lowly rapists that has intruded into her home. He scowls at that, grays orbs locked with amethyst for a brief second before he disappears before her eyes. An icy cold chill runs down her spine and she silently stares at where the man had once been. The police calling to her on the other line, but she is too frightened to speak.
"Hello? Miss, hello? We're sending someone over right away..just..just hang in there okay?"
The squad six captain watches the scene from a nearby rooftop, sirens rushing down the street toward her house. He watches as the officers break down the door to her home, and moments later carry out his traumatized wife, directing her into an awaiting ambulance.
He's just startled her, that's all.
She'll be his again soon, nothing will be able to take her away from him this time.