Disclaimer: i don't own Bleach
My girl can kick ass.
Major ass.
I love that when we're duking it out against various shitheads, I don't have to worry about her. Don't get me wrong, I do. Just the fact that I know I don't have to, because she's giving it her all and kicking as much ass as I am, it's fucking sweet. My girl can hold her own in a fight. She's hard-core awesomesauce.
I even love it when she gets all I-am-superior-to-you-you-retarded-baka-faced-fool. Some people may see it as me getting angry, annoyed, general piss-assedness on my part. But secretly, I have to keep myself from smiling at how damned adorable she is. Can't have people see me grinning like an idiot whenever she's around. I've got an image to uphold after all. But honestly, it's all I can do not to grab her and crush her to my chest.
Yeah, she's hella cute, but when she smiles at me…
It's like her whole face lights up. She's radiant. Pretty. Beautiful even. Her alluring violet eyes sparkle. No, really. They sparkle, shimmer and shine. And just for me. At least it better be just for me.
Man, I seriously get goose bumps. When she smiles at me, that is. Yeah, she looks that good.
But truthfully, it's not about her looks. Not by a long shot. Heh. Those are just an added bonus.
My girl, she knows me; inside and out. Lots of people know me, but she knows me knows me. One look at my face and she knows what I'm thinking, feeling, my fears, ambitions, goals and dreams. I don't know how she does it, but nevertheless, I love it. We can share whole conversations with just looks, stares, glances and raised eyebrows. Granted, meanings get lost between us sometimes, because of me. But I try. I'm trying. I want to keep up with my girl.
Sometimes I feel like a real fairy for having such girlish thoughts. Hell, she probably doesn't have such mushy thoughts about me. But whatever. If my gay thoughts are any indication of where she stands in my heart, then let the mushy thoughts flow in full force.
Did I mention? My girl has a gift. When I'm feeling down and like shit, a simple kick to the face, threats, much screaming and cursing later, I feel better. Really. I'm sick. I think I'm a closet masochist. I find myself intentionally riling her up, just to see her pissed, and feel her kicking my ass. Hey, don't judge me! It's the only way I get to feel her touch. When she puts me in a headlock, it's like a little piece of heaven. Her slender arm wrapped chokingly tight around my neck, her face mere inches from mine. She's pink; radiant and flushed from anger and exertion. Her body flush against my own, her small but oh so perfect breast pressed into my side….Kami, help me but I live for these moments. I need a hobby.
I get the feeling that my girl doesn't much know how to express herself, other than a punch and a slap. We don't touch excessively. We don't have long, heartfelt conversations about our undying love. To me, those are just unsaid understandings between the two of us. We don't make plans for the future and discuss how we will always be together. Together forever. Me and her. We don't talk about it cause it's a known. I don't even take the time to wonder how things would be if she was the type of girl to do all of that. Ick! I shudder at such thoughts.
My girl is the shit, just how she is.
I wouldn't want her any other way.
Eh. just wanted venturing away from my other project. wanted to try some Ichigo POV aswell.
well...review if you want, i guess. i't be nice if you did though :)