Disclaimer: Insert boring "I don't own Bleach" bullshit here. You don't read it anyway, now do you?

Author's Notes: Hi! I'm starwisher, and this is my first time posting a Bleach fanfiction. Be gentle with me. Or not, if that's your kink. I'm okay either way. *winks* And yes, that should give you a clue as to the general theme of my stories. I'm hardcore IchiRuki - like, included them in my wedding vows hardcore. I support smuff. And I sprinkle everything with a nice healthy dose of Inoue-bashing. Don't like it? FanFiction has a lovely feature: it allows you to sort fics by character. Go figure out how to use it. Shoo.

About Shuffle Up and Deal With It: It's an iPod-on-Shuffle songshot collection, whoo. My library was rather depleted at the time I started this little cupcake. Not so much anymore. Expect all sorts of lovely soon.

Chapter Rating: Ehh, T-to-baby-wipe-mild M. This one has two teensy-weensy Ichigoisms, a word and a thought, because he's a total badass. Surely you little monsters can handle that. If you can't, stop watching Bleach, you're in the wrong fandom. Go back to playing with your Happy Meal Omnitrix and stop wasting my time.


Shuffle Up and Deal With It

"All in Your Head" – Rooney

What did you expect?
Well I told you from the start that I'm not your boyfriend.

All the hope, all the pain, all the tears you cried;
Every laugh, every kiss, every time I lied -
Well I'm not what you think or dreamed of;
It's all in your head


She is constantly attempting to apply a label to their relationship, if it can even be called that.

"People in a relationship like ours normally call themselves boyfriend and girlfriend, do they not?"

He hates labels.

She is always trying to shower him with physical affection in public - around their friends and comrades, in particular.

"But I love you, and I just want to show it."

He hates public displays of affection.

She is always complaining about how much pain he puts her through, about how often she cries.

"Why can't you love me the way I want to be loved?"

He hates her, why should he do anything she wants?

He rolls his amber eyes as she begins babbling incessantly again, before sneaking a glance at the beautiful dark-haired, blue-eyed pixie sitting beside him.

Kurosaki Ichigo knows that if he were dating Kuchiki Rukia, she wouldn't demand titles, or express excess physical affection, or complain he did not love her correctly.

No. It'd be something without a true definition. It'd be slick skin on silk sheets and wild screams in the dead of night. It'd be impossible to love her any way other than 'right', because she'd make it perfectly clear and it would come naturally.

The little nymph next to him meets his gaze suddenly, and he quickly makes sure his scowl is screwed on straight, that his face is not red, that he does not look in any way, shape, or form in love with her.

But her blue eyes twinkle, and a little smile stretches across her face, and he knows, suddenly and without a doubt, that she knows, and she reciprocates.

"Inoue," he says suddenly, and everyone looks up at him in surprise. Especially Rukia, but her look is more of amusement than shock.

Inoue Orihime blinks big grey eyes at him, a deer in the headlights. Or a cow in the pasture. "Yes, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Shut the fuck up. We're through."

And then he reaches over, grabs Rukia's hand, and the two of them walk away without even looking back.

"About time," she chuckles, tightening her grip on his hand almost imperceptibly as high, strident, crazed shrieks of denial fade into the background.

He glares at her and vows to make her scream for that.


Review. It's easy if you try.

*starwisher