Attempts @ SZP.

Happy Valentines!

2010-02-14T00:40:41Z

Title: Mallow, Downpour.

Author: barukode .

Character(s): Shuuhei Hisagi, Izuru Kira.
Prompt: Marshmallow, Rain.
Word Count: 145. 1748.
Rating: G, PG-13.
Summary: Hisagi and Kira attempt to make smores. The boys are caught in showers of rain and emotions.
Warning: The first piece is incredibly fluffy. The second is an explosion of ANGST! Also, SPOILERS FOR THE MOST RECENT MANGA CHAPTERS!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas, and I am not paid; paper money is useless to me.
A/N: This hurr is my Valentine's Day gift to kwansan [: I really wanted to write something for all three prompts, but my Muse just fled at the word "archery" >< I apologize x 48509346 for the angst in the second piece; apparently RL!stress decided to creep in on me while I was writing. I'm not even sure that I am 100% content with how the 'rain' prompt came out, so I am sorry if it is über fail! It also ended up being way longer than I had originally intended ^^'   On another note.. Happy Lovers Day, Dearest! I hope that You have a fabulous holiday and that these little ficlets meet Your standards!
And a Happy Valentine's Day to all Yous guys ^^
<3

     I.
    "Alright, what does it say next?"
    Hisagi scanned the page in his hand, stuffing another few marshmallows into his mouth. "I' f'safs da pud id ober da fire, ubtil bwown."
    Glancing sidelong at the brunette, Kira smirked. He held his katana over the flame, watching the small puff of white on the end steadily darkening; after a moment, he was anxious. "How brown?"
    "Hm?" The older swallowed and looked back to the paper. ".. doesn't say."
    "Well, how do I know if it's done?" His voice was slightly higher now, with a string of nervousness laced in his words, and his gaze flashed quickly back and forth between the burning fluff and his companion. "Shuu! What do I do?"
    Hisagi looked up in time to watch the charred remains fall from the end of the metal and into the fire. He chuckled. "Probably not that brown.."

     II.
    The sky was black again. By now, the darkness had come to be expected.
    He stood in the grass on the outskirts of Seireitei, wet and cold from rain, two almost-black eyes staring helplessly into their equally moonless sky. He held a cigarette between his lips, taking advantage of the lull in the downpour to light up.
    It had been this way for days; he was not even fully aware of when it started or for how long it had been going on. There was no sun and therefore no day. And the lack of a moon had put an end to night. Days and nights seemed to run on as one, neither existing nor terminating. There were no clouds, there was no wind, no thunder or lightning. Only the darkness. And the rain.
    At first he had thought that perhaps their battles between worlds had altered the routine of the Universe. He had considered the way that swords had clashed, the way that bodies had fallen, the way that victories had failed to be a reason for joy: if there was any time for the skies above to weep, it would be now.
    And yet, in this moment, breathing in a hard inhalation of smoke, unmoving eyes fixated on the abyss above, he had abandoned his prior assumptions.
    This was not a fault in the Universal system; this was not the Earth's cry for it's losses.
    This was one thing.
    This was death.
    The rain picked up once more, staining the white of his cigarette and threatening to break it from his fingers. He took another drag before flicking it from his grasp. He held his breath for a moment, only exhaling when he began to feel lightheaded. Thin wisps of white drifted from between his lips and upwards, disappearing into the blackness above. The sound of wet footsteps soaking into the damp ground came from behind him, but he did not bother turning around; he knew that it was only a matter of time before this man arrived.
    "What are you doing out here? You'll get sick from this weather!"
    Of course that was his first remark, getting sick. He would have been surprised if it had been anything else.
    A few more uncomfortable sloshes and the Lieutenant was beside him. "You feeling okay?"
    Hisagi held his stare with the sky and nodded.
    The blonde raised an eyebrow, searching his ally's face for any sign of emotion. Kira was torn. He wanted to yell at the brunette for being so stubborn, give him a good punch in the arm and tell him to lighten up, the way that Hisagi had always done for him. And then he wanted to frown at how pitiful his friend looked out here in the rain, how weak and fragile he appeared. He chewed on his lower lip and let out a sharp breath, venturing to fight the urge to do either.
    "Are.."
    Kira looked up. "Hm? What is it, Shuuhei?"
    Droplets of water fell against his face and despite it, he kept his attention upwards. He cleared his throat. "Are.. Do.. you think we're dead?"
    The Third Division Vice Captain felt his shoulders fall. Any attempts to remain neutral had failed, a soft pout taking shape on his lips. "Shuu, I-"
    "Sometimes," Hisagi interrupted, his voice slightly cracking. "Sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe." As if to prove his point, he took a deep breath. "I.. have to remind myself to inhale and to exhale." He paused and blinked his gaze to the ground beneath his feet. "I check my pulse.. to make sure that I still have a heartbeat. To make sure that I still have a heart. To make sure that there is still blood running through my veins."
    Kira listened and altered his breathing to match the brunette's. As if doing it together would help Hisagi remember how to do it at all. When the older Shinigami turned to meet his eyes, the blonde felt himself stiffen.
    "Everything tells me that I'm still alive, 'zuru." He held onto those bright blue eyes for as long as he could before turning away. "I know that I'm alive. But I don't feel it."
    Kira grabbed him, both of his fists tight on the other man's shoulders, and he forced his focus. It took him a moment to gain his full attention, and he shook him for good measure when he finally did. They stared at each other for what seemed to be a few full minutes, nothing between them but the thick air and the steady pour of rain and the weight of their stares. Kira took a breath and finally spoke. "This is real, Shuuhei. And so are You."
    Hisagi looked away, blinked rain off of his eyelashes.
    "Things will get better, ne? That's what you always told me." Kira spoke louder to be heard over the rain. "Why can't you take your own advice?"
    The brunette distanced himself from his younger ally and gave him his back.
    "Why not, Shuu? Is it because you don't believe it?" He took a few steps towards the silent Lieutenant who, in turn, began to walk away. Kira followed. "Why, Shuu? Why did you feed me all of that shit if you didn't even believe in it?" He was yelling now, partially because of the storm, though mostly due to his own emotions emerging. "Talk to me!"
    Hisagi shook his head. The showers stung his eyes. "Stop it, Kira."
    Feet sinking into the wet ground, he continued to stalk the other man. "You preach about tranquility to every one of us that needs it, and then the second you find yourself in our position, you can't remember a word of it! Is it because you wanted us to shut up? Is it because you're sick? Is it because you've been standing outside, staring at nothing for the past week? Or is it because you took your serenity lessons from him?"
    Hisagi stopped quickly, pivoting to glare at the blonde. "What did you say?"
    The Third Division was somewhat surprised at the sharpness of his partner's scowl. He stopped a few feet behind and squared his shoulders. "That's why?"
    He clenched his jaw. "Don't."
    "Because you learned it all from him, right?"
    "Shut up."
    "He taught you about peace and meditation and justice-"
    "Shut up!"
    "-and now you can't hear it because "maybe he was just setting you up"-"
    "No."
    "-maybe everything that he told you was just an act so that he could convince you that he was good enough. That way, when he left, you'd go after him-"
    "Fuck you!"
    "You had to "fix" him, right?"
    Hisagi threw himself at the blonde, knocking them both to the grass. He put all of his weight into keeping Kira underneath him, just long enough for him to crack his knuckles into the younger man's jaw. "Goddamnit, 'zuru!" His fist made contact again, this time sending a violent shatter echoing into the surrounding trees. The noise was enough to startle him, and he looked down at his ally, sapphire orbs seeming to glow in the darkness. The rain was only spreading the stain of red over the Lieutenant's pale skin.
    Hisagi pushed himself up, his limbs shaky now that he could see the damage that he had done. "I-Izuru.."
    Kira tried to sit up and groaned, feeling slightly more secure when a solid arm rested on his back.
    "Shit, what did I do?" The Ninth Division's other hand reached out to the face before him and he thumbed the blood from Kira's cheeks. The downpour was washing away the majority of crimson, albeit that only made it easier to see that the blonde's lower lip had split open and the dark bruise that was forming along the bridge of the his now-broken nose.
    "Shuu-"
    "Don't, 'zu. We have to get you to the Fourth." Hisagi looked around anxiously.
    "Stop it." Kira grabbed the front of his friend's robes. "I'm fine."
    One scarred eyebrow raised. "You aren't fine! I fucking.. ruined you!"
    The younger Lieutenant laughed. "Sh-Shut up, Shuu!" He wiped his bleeding lip on the back of his hand, and smiled. "You're always so serious."
    "Me?!" The older man yelled. "I always have to brighten you up or slap you around or fill you with booze just to get you to grin every now an' then!"
    Tightening his grip on the collar of Hisagi's shirt, the blonde nodded. "Exactly. Then why can't you do the same for you?"
    Hisagi opened his mouth. "I.."
    Kira punched him in the shoulder, catching him off-guard. "Lighten up, ne? You think I'd let you die so I can go back to being miserable all the time? Hm?"
    Hisagi blinked at him. The downpour had flattened the blonde's hair against his face. Even with the darkening bruise, the brunette could not take his gaze from the other man's eyes; it was at times like this, in the pitch black, that they appeared their brightest blue. And while he had always found them sad, something in this moment made them shimmer. He caught his breath, swallowed, and nodded almost unnoticeably. "I'm.. sorry, 'zuru."
    Kira felt the slide of fingers against his back. "Yeah. Me too."

• • •

    Where he laid on the dank grass was incredible uncomfortable and he stirred, which only added to the sensation of the moisture seeping into his clothes. He stretched and felt the body beside him, damp and cool as his own.
    "Shuuhei."
    His name was rough and lazy on the other man's tongue, and he only responded with a grunt.
    "Shuu, look."
    Hisagi turned his head to face his partner and slowly peeled his eyes open. "Mm?"
    Kira nodded in the direction of his attention. The brunette merely watched him. He had pushed the hair out of his face. His nose looked worse, more purple and swollen. The daylight was certainly gracious at pointing out the mistakes he had made the night before.
    "Wha-" There was light. No clouds in the sky, and no sun, but it was light. Hisagi sat up. "How di-"
    "I don't know." Kira had mimicked his movement. He thumbed his bottom lip and shook his head. "Kind of peaceful."
    The air felt cleaner, as thought it was effortless for it to fill his lungs. He sighed and looked to the other man, before returning his stare to the sky above. "Yeah. Looks like the rain has finally stopped."

_____

Proximity.

2009-08-18T05:58:31Z

Title: Proximity.
Author: barukode .
Character(s): Shuuhei Hisagi, Izuru Kira, Ikkaku Madarame, Yumichika Ayasegawa.
Word Count: 867
Rating: PG.
Summary: After the Elite are recruited.
Warning: Über fluffs, compared to most of my stuff; a boy kiss; and teensy spoilers for the most recent manga!War chapters if You squint and know what You're looking for.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas, and I am not paid; paper money is useless to me.
A/N: This one is for Antha, my Love. Who gave me the idea for this piece and helped me to wake up Muse. Thank You, Darling! You already know how much I adore You, so I will not sap it up all over the interwebs for everyone to see. *does anyway* This *points to Hisagi* is me; and this *points to Kira* is You. We are the two dots on the map &hearts;

--

    The General had left them alone to decide. Though it was hardly up to them. They could have declined- if they wanted to be exiled and disgraced in front of everyone that they had come to know as family. And so it came to be an obvious conclusion; despite the risks, despite the significance, despite the pressure that accompanied it, there was really no need to give the four men time to think it over: they had chosen before the door even closed.
    "Get some sleep." Ikkaku slapped an arm to the oldest man's shoulder and turned to smile (as well as he could) at the blonde. Yumichika only nodded beside him, terrifically quiet for his usual self.
    Hisagi forced a grin and watched as the two left in an unnerving hush. The door was closed again; he slowed his breathing; he turned to the other man. Kira was sitting in the same position that he had been sitting in, and he wore the same expression that he had been wearing. Bright blue eyes seemed to have dimmed as he stared at the table before him. He had not spoken since they had entered the room and bowed to the First Division Captain. The other two men had made themselves known, made their feelings known; they had made noise and shoved chairs against the desk as they talked. And Kira remained silent.
    Hisagi felt himself sigh and leaned against the table, staring down at the younger man beside him. "Y'okay?"
    He blinked.
    "Kir," the brunette pulled out his chair and took a seat, leveling himself with his ally, his gaze fighting to win over those dulled sapphire orbs. "C'mon, 'zu, talk to me.."
    Kira took a breath, which appeared to be the first he had taken all night. He let his shoulders fall, let his eyes focus on a different spot on the table, let his lips frown somewhat. And when he opened his mouth, the words were broken, clearing with each syllable like shattered glass that was slowly- steadily- putting itself back together. "I.. I don't think I can do it.."
    "What?" Hisagi's eyes were concerned. He cocked his head slightly, venturing to see all of his partner's face. "Sure you can, 'zuru. Why wouldn't you?"
    Blonde hair curtained over his face when he finally allowed his head to fall forward. "I don't think I'm strong enough."
    The older frowned at this. He reached out, gently running his hand up and down Kira's back. "You don't really believe that." He gave a light squeeze to his shoulder and continued with his soothing motions. "You're going to be fine. You're going to do great." Smiling softly, his breath picked up when sad blue eyes met his own. "You.. you can fight. And you can, you can heal. You are strong enough. After everything you've been through, 'zu.." Shrugging, Hisagi ceased his caress. ".. this is nothing."
    His gaze was on the floor now. "But.. this is a war. And.. and there's so much.. If I mess up," he turned his attention back to the man beside him, though now with a desperation that scared him, ".. if I lose.. People are going to be relying on me to win and I don't know if I can!"
    Hisagi's fingers tightened on his comrade's back, his right hand holding Kira's face to stay focused. "Listen to me." Long, blonde lashes fluttered closed. "Hey, look at me. Listen, Kir.. If there is anyone I know who can do this.. it's you."
    "What if I lose?"
    "You won't."
    "What if my pillar fal-?"
    "It won't."
    "But-"
    "Izuru." Both hands held the pitiful face now. "Trust me." When the lips before him pouted once more, he reached into his robes and pulled out a pen. Now the younger raised an eyebrow. "Give me your hand."
    "Wha-?"
    He laid his hand flat and signaled for Kira do the same. "Alright, look.." Putting the pen in his mouth, he pulled off the cap and drew a small dot on his palm; he did the same on the other man. Spitting the cap to the side, he explained. "This," he pointed to his own circle, "is me. And this," motioning to Kira's circle, "is you." Holding the Vice Captain's hand next to his own, he met the other man's confused expression. "This is close you and I are going to be."
    "But-"
    His fingers linked between Kira's and he tugged slightly, his free hand already resting on the younger Lieutenant's cheek when their noses brushed; and then the blonde tilted his head into the touch, a quick breath escaping from his throat and immediately swallowed by the contact with the older man. Moving against his best friend's mouth, Hisagi pulled away and licked his lips.
    For a moment, Kira was as he had been earlier: his eyes remained closed, his lips parted slightly, his breath slow. He held this pose even as he broke the silence that had settled over them. "Shuu."
    Hisagi watched him. "Mm?"
    ".. We're too close."
    "Hm?"
    Kira gripped the hand in his; his eyes opened with a light smile.
    Echoing the motion, Hisagi leaned forward and spoke smoothly over the blonde's mouth. "Never."

--

Celebrating.

2009-08-16T05:47:42Z

Title: Celebrating.
Author: barukode .
Character(s): Shuuhei Hisagi, Izuru Kira.
Word Count: 1943
Rating: PG.
Summary: Kira helps Hisagi celebrate his birthday.
Warning: Boy Kiss, Spoilers for SS Arc if You squint and know what happens.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas, and I am not paid; paper money is useless to me.

    After the fourth unfamiliar hand slammed against his shoulder hard enough to bruise and a slurred version of his name was yelled into his ear, he decided that it was time for a cigarette break.
    Making his way through the crowd, he slid open the door and stepped outside, walking to the very end of the Division's balcony before he stopped. He filled his lungs with fresh air briefly, before holding his cigarette between his lips while his hands fumbled with the lighter; and then, ah, the exquisite familiarity- accompanied only by the silence- eased his nerves and he leaned against the wall. He really did appreciate everyone coming out to celebrate his birthday with him. And he was truly surprised that so many people had shown up, despite everything that had occurred in the past few weeks. And he was being sincere when he thanked Matsumoto multiple times throughout the night for putting the entire thing together. But the excitement had definitely begun to fade when his lamp was broken by a few stoned officers; and then further when, during the eleventh toast to him that evening, his Sixth Seat had wrapped an arm around his Eighth Seat, whom in his haze, he believed to be the man-of-the-hour, and gave the most touching speech he could muster. (It wouldn't have been nearly as embarrassing if, afterwards, at least five people hadn't patted the random drunk on the back and wished him a "H-Happy Bir'day, Shooo.")
    Drinking helped. Although it was not nearly as much fun as he remembered his first few times being, and when everyone else was hammered, the alcohol leaving him with only a buzz was just frustrating. Leaning over the railing, Hisagi watched as a few officers passed below, one looking up at the noise from down the hall. The sky was much more intriguing, despite the fact that it did not move or talk or drink- perhaps that was why he preferred to focus on it. Taking a long drag on his cigarette, he held it in, letting his head fall back as he exhaled and watching the smoke drift steadily upwards in its lazy patterns until it had disappeared entirely. He was sucking in another deep breath when he felt a familiar presence beside him.
    "So this is where you've been hiding."
    Blowing wisps into the open air, the older turned to face his visitor, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "-'m not hiding." He said with feigned guilt. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his foot.
    Kira took a few steps closer. "Even at your own party," he started, resting his arms on the rail beside his ally, "you're head won't let you have a good time."
    Chuckling at this, Hisagi eyed the blonde. "That's not it. I just.. It got a little crazy in there." He cocked his head in the direction of the party. Things appeared to have quieted down, and then a loud cheer and the clinking of glasses (and probably another Hisagi-look-a-like with a bruised shoulder).
    "I think you were just toasted again." Kira smiled, raising his own glass. "Cheers."
    Shaking his head with a grin, the Birthday Boy looked back to the sky before him. It was a clear night, the only clouds he had seen being the ones that he puffed out of his lips and nose. The moon was high, as it must have been at least two o'clock in the morning by now, and it shone like a light, illuminating absolutely everything; had the surrounding sky not been as deep of a blue as it was, it would have seemed daytime. His attention was fixed on how dead everything but the room he had just left seemed, even when he spoke to the Lieutenant next to him. "I really appreciate you coming out here, Kir. I know this isn't really your.. scene."
    The Third Division laughed at this, earning a raised eyebrow from the brunette and a slight spill of his drink as he motioned. "It's.. entirely yours."
    Hisagi shook his head again, the smile on his lips spreading at the blonde man's chuckle. "Hey, I was.. having a good time."
    "Was?"
    "It got a little crazy in there." He repeated, holding in his own laugh.
    "I knew you were hiding.." Now Kira was trying to fight off his amusement. He took to echoing the older man's aloofness, taking a sip of his drink as his sparkling blue eyes traced the perfect outline of the moon. After a moment, he turned fully, facing Hisagi, waiting for the dark gaze to meet his before he spoke.
    "What?"
    "It's your birthday." The younger stated obviously.
    ".. Yes."
    "And here you are, hiding from your party-"
    "I never said hiding!" He was head-on with the other man now, trying to follow where Kira was leading him. "What.. does this have to do with anything?"
    The Third Division waited for a moment, his gaze passing back towards the party, out into the sky, and again to Hisagi, before he finally spoke. "Do you want to get out of here?"

    "It isn't like I hate those people." he defended for the third time since they had begun walking. "I just know that they're using tonight as an excuse to drink and to.. not think about.. shit." He heard the blonde clear his throat and corrected himself. "Aside from you." He added. "I know that you get it."
    Kira made a face.
    "What?"
    "I.." Shrugging somewhat, the younger hesitated. "I just.. came out for the free booze too."
    Hisagi elbowed him playfully. "Shuddup."
    Giggling to himself, Kira rested a hand on the other man's shoulder. And when he was able to keep a straight face, his words were truly sincere. "Don't think about it so much, Shuu. Even if that's the case, the most important thing is that.. some people aren't here anymore and.." He gave his grip a light squeeze and smiled when Hisagi turned to meet his eyes. ".. and others.. always will be."
    Nodding, the brunette grinned. "Thanks, 'zuru."
    It was not discussed, but for a reason unknown to anyone but themselves, they both stopped. They both eyed the section of grass that they were standing in. They both took a moment to find the moon behind the trees. Hisagi took a few steps, trying to better see the stars that were otherwise veiled by leaves and branches; Kira watched him. And after a moment of an unnerving silence, the older Shinigami spoke. "You think they realized I'm gone yet?"
    Scratching the back of his head, Kira laughed. "You think they realize anything?"
    Hisagi's chuckle was almost a whisper. He reached into his robes, put a cigarette to his lips, found his lighter, and stopped himself, rotating his upper-body to face the other man. "You mind if I-?"
    "Not at all."
    Lighting up, he took a deep breath, relishing in the almost-instant relief his body felt when his lungs were filled with smoke. His shoulders fell and he turned to the Lieutenant. "Not that you're stressing me out or anything."
    Kira smirked. "I was a little concerned.."
    Hisagi flicked ash onto the ground and walked back to where his partner remained. "Never."
    The younger man found himself becoming red at how much closer the Ninth Division was than he had been earlier; it could have been the fumes, which were beginning to go to his head, or the fact that he could practically taste the nicotine. But then Hisagi took a step backwards and his air cleared and the fog in his head started to settle.
    They stood in the tranquility for a few minutes, Hisagi occasionally taking long drags, Kira occasionally refreshing his lungs, both of them peering up into the black and occasionally watching the designs that the brunette's smoke was making against the darkness. It seemed that an hour had passed before Hisagi finally put out his cigarette beneath his toe; and another hour before Hisagi finally spoke. "What d'you want to do?"
    Rather thrown by the question, Kira took a seat in the grass and thought about it. "Well.." He ran his fingers over his chin; any thoughts of how to answer were blocked from his head by thoughts of appearing as if he was thinking about how to answer. The brunette had joined him on the ground before his head could even make sense of everything. "You should be picking anyway." He gave up with a smile. "It's your birthday."
    Hisagi leaned back on his elbows, dark eyes still as drawn to the sky as they were a few hours prior, when he had first left his party. A smirk spread across his lips and then he was laughing at himself.
    Kira furrowed his brow and fought to keep from joining without first knowing why. "What is it?"
    "I," he started, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I am the most boring person I know."
    When he continued to laugh about it, the blonde shrugged. "Why? Because you want to sit out here and do nothing for the rest of the night?"
    Hisagi let his arm fall back beside him and cocked his head to look at the other man. "How did you know that's what I wanted to do?"
    "I'm just good like that." It was Kira's turn to chuckle to himself. He laid back, a sigh escaping from his throat at the motion. His gaze fought to disclose why the Ninth Division Lieutenant had been so taken with the night above, and he was sure that he was capable of locating it; until said Lieutenant was obstructing his view of the sky entirely. Kira almost sat up, it had taken him by such surprise. "Wha-"
    "Tell me something, Kir." Hisagi looked down at his comrade.
    Had they not been out all night, he might not have been able to make out the features on the man above him. But he could see, even in the dark, the light in the two charcoal eyes, the thick ebony numbers on his cheek, the three scarred lines, and the hint of a smirk. "Mm?"
    Hisagi held himself up, both hands on either side of the younger mans body. "What are we doing out here?"
    Kira held his stare: even in shadows, it was still intimidating. Regardless, he propped himself on his elbows, narrowing the distance between the two of them, and shaking his head unnoticeably. "I.." Hisagi's hot breath splayed out across his cheek, and he smiled. "Celebrating."
    Questioning eyes softened and he made to stand up.
    Kira grabbed him, his collar, and pulled him back, and their lips met- hard, due to Hisagi's instability. The blonde's hand wandered upwards, settling in short dark spikes and gripping. His back was against the grass once more, two steady hands on either side of his head. Hisagi's tongue teased his lips and he groaned into the touch, his mouth opening and finding a rhythm to match the other man's. Fingers threaded in jet-black hair, he tilted his head, Hisagi straddled him. And after a moment of their delicious embrace, mouths separated, Kira nibbling on the brunette's bottom lip.
    A rough grunt escaped from between Hisagi's still-wet lips; he could not resist anther press, another kiss.
    Kira stroked the dark locks in his fingers, a smile conquering his mouth when his ally pulled away for the third time. "Celebrating." He reiterated, a laugh fighting to be released from the back of his throat.
    Hisagi only smirked and kissed him again.

-----

War: Reunion.

2009-07-21T04:11:29Z

Title: War: Reunion.
Author: barukode .
Character(s): Shuuhei Hisagi, Renji Abarai, Izuru Kira, Kensei Muguruma.
Word Count: 1415
Rating: PG.
Summary: SUMMARY!
Warning: Renji's mouth; Shuu!Angst.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas; paper money is useless to me.
A/N: Today was one of the worst days ever for SZP. Hence: more pity. I have had this idea for quite some time now, but I never forced myself to sit down and write it; which I suppose was the correct decision. This just oozed out of me tonight, hopefully in an actually decent form.

----
    His breath catches in the back of his throat. And he has to verify that his mind is not swindling him.
    There is a part of him that hopes to God he is being fooled, that some ultimate being is playing him like a toy, pulling at the back of his mind and yanking on the strings to his heart. There is a part of him that wants to be deceived. Because the mere idea of seeing correctly compels him to face what he has become- and he can only wish that he has become good enough.
    When he looks across desecrated buildings and fallen bodies, an icy chill races up his spine and he has confirmation: truth to his vision, proof of it, is standing about a hundred feet away, back to him, slightly hunched (as he, himself, is), but there is no dubiousness to the situation any longer.
    Saying "hello" seems a strange thing to do, and so he remains cemented to the ground. His arms hang at his sides; his breath heaves deep into his hollow-feeling chest. He begins to adjust his posture, the thought of walking those scanty one hundred feet persisting in his mind, and he almost makes it ninety nine when a voice distracts him.
    "Shuu!"
    His shoulders fall again.
    "'sagi!"
    Another voice.
    Pivoting, he looks to the noise (and, though he is not aware, is echoed by the man across the street). A weak smile flashes across his exhausted face at the sight; something lifts in his stomach. "R-Renj.." His voice is breathier than he imagined it would be. He clears his throat and tries again. "Ren-"
    "Whadda ya doin', Shuu?" A heavy arm is wrapped around his shoulder and the familiar charisma of his redheaded ally latches on with it. Even after everything that they had just gone through, even after everything that they had just done, the Sixth Division Lieutenant is beaming. One would imagine a similar expression on a Quarterback who's High School Football team had just won a game. And it was a comparable circumstance, somewhat. Except that they had just fought a war.
    Hisagi's thoughts trail off as Renji's other arm pulls him into a hug. And for the first time since he has stood up from the shattered earth, from where he peeled his eyes open in agony, he allows himself to relax into the embrace, all too quickly tensing again as his fingers tighten in the younger man's ragged robes. A hand finds his on Renji's back and he glances over his friend's shoulder to meet the tired smile. "Kir.."
    The blonde's lips quirk upwards briefly before he lowers his hand, looking to the ground and avoiding the pull of red that had obviously begun soaking into his clothing some time ago; Hisagi only eyes it for a moment, but it seems to expand with each blink.
    "Shuuhei? Shuuhei Hisagi?"
    Regardless of how hastily he releases Renji from his grip and how quickly he rotates to encounter the new visitor, he already knows who he is turning to come into contact with. The voice has not changed since that day when it first spoke his name; the inflection is different this time around, but everything else- the simplicity of it, the deep baritone of the words, the way his mouth issues his name and makes it sound like.. just words- everything else is the same as when he was a shaken, sobbing, six-year old kid. And when he comes eye-to-eye with the man who has declared his title a few empty remarks, he cannot help but revert to that shaken, sobbing, six-year old mindset.
    Kensei wears the identical smirk, has the identical intimidating eyes, and (aside from the piercings, which Hisagi lingers on), looks practically identical. The Vice Captain believes that there is an obvious change, an obvious development, from when the two first met, but does not dither with it; it is easier, after all, to assume that the growth was in himself.
    The air in his lungs leaves him. He is unsure when the one hundred feet became one and he stutters himself to life. "C-Captain."
    Kensei laughs. "Che.. Hardly a Captain anymore, kid." His strong features appear almost expressionless for a brief instance. And then his golden-brown eyes drift to the dark ink before him, and he raises an eyebrow. "What's this?" One, gloved hand reaches up and his bare thumb brushes over the tattoo. "Listen, ya don't want to be anything like me."
    Hisagi swallows hard at the contact- again when the hand slips from his face. He follows it until he is watching the broken ground underneath his feet.
    "'ey, what gives?"
    Dark eyes flash up once more at the irritated voice behind him. And again he is in internally praying that the words were produced in his fogged mind.
    "Leave 'im alone, alright? He just fought a fuckin' war."
    Renji's mouth is running now. And very much real.
    Kensei puts his hands up playfully in defense. "Take it easy there, Rex." He grins. "'m just making conversation." He points the open pad of his index finger at Hisagi's cheek. "Shuuhei here ever tell ya where he got this idea?"
    He can feel his comrade seething behind him and his entire body tightens with the younger man's spiritual pressure. Hisagi cannot hear their conversation over the familiar haunt in his head: that day, that day when his parents were killed, when his friends fell victim to the same fate, and when he- for whatever unknown reason- was saved by the man standing across from him now, the man who is raising his voice at his best friend. He hears his own childish tears, practically feels them as they pour over his cheeks, stinging the skin where his ink is now so deeply embedded.
    He focuses again when Kensei's bare chest is flashed to the group, his gaze immediately drawn to the thick, ebony numbers. Renji lets out a noise that shows he is unimpressed; Kira says nothing; Kensei's grin widens. Hisagi finds that his mouth is dry and that it takes quite a lot of control to keep his hands to himself. He has wanted to touch it, to feel the mark under the pads of his fingers, since he was a child. Back then, he assumed that it would be noticeably different from the rest of the Captain's skin. He knows otherwise now. In the dark, he wouldn't even know it was there.
    "Who'd ya say you were?" Kensei nods and Hisagi follows it, finally prying his focus from the older man.
    "I didn't."
    "Alright, smartass, what's yer name?"
    "Renji Abarai."
    "What's yer rank?"
    "Vice Captain."
    He is glancing between them now, and notices when Kensei doesn't appear threatened. "Where?"
    "Sixth."
    "Sixth?"
    "What's it to you?"
    Another laugh from the ex-Shinigami, as he rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Nothin', nothin'." He chuckles again. "They must've really gone lax over there, eh? Back in the day, there'd never be trash like you in the Sixth."
    The words hardly register and Hisagi feels himself pushed aside, Renji's temperament getting the better of him once more. "-the fuck did you just call me, you fuckin' old piece of shit?"
    "Renji-"
    "Renj, do-"
    "Easy, tiger." Kensei smirks. "'m'not bustin' balls. Just statin' the facts."
    "-lousy fucker!"
    Renji puts himself in the once-Ninth's face; Hisagi is between them before he can get his brain to tell his legs to move. The redhead's chest pulses quickly against his hand, but he pushes away. "Renji." The hot, crimson eyes tear from the demon that is Kensei and seem to cool when they meet his stare. One light squeeze of his grip on the younger Lieutenant and he speaks again, "Take Kira to the Fourth." And he is rather impressed when Renji's body loosens and he pulls the blonde close to him and turns his back.
    "Not bad, kid."
    He is anxious about staring into the foreign, yet so familiar, eyes. When he does, his stomach tightens. "Thanks."
    "Hey, cheer up, Shuuhei Hisagi." Kensei forces a grin.
    His lips curl up at the corners for a moment, stopping when the rough thumb runs over his cheek once more.
    "Try not to let another hundred years pass, alright?" A genuine smile passes over his face. "Find me sometime."
    Hisagi reminds himself how to breath. He nods. And the hand is gone, along with the man attached to it.

----

Shiver.

2009-07-19T07:04:44Z

Title: Shiver.
Author: barukode .
Character(s): Shuuhei Hisagi, Izuru Kira.
Word Count: 1233
Rating: PG.
Summary: summarysummarysummary.
Warning: OHSHI-KIRA!ANGST.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas; paper money is useless to me.
A/N: I only spent about eight minutes writing this, and I did very little editing. My apologies in advance if this is teh total suck- SZP is just trying to get the hang of writing FF again.

    A shiver shot from the base of his neck down the length of his spine, and his entire body shuddered. It was sporadic: there was a warm breeze in the air, though hardly enough to cause a stir in him, and for as long as he had been standing at this post, nothing had happened- no Hollows, no Humans, not even a drunk 11th Division member stumbled past. Yet this was the seventh time in the past few hours that he had felt himself shake.
    It was entirely possible that something had passed by him, passed through him, and he had not sensed it. He did not want to imagine it, but it was not out of the question; especially not after the ruckus that Aizen et al had caused as of late. Hell, there was still a portion of his mind that firmly believed he had been killed amidst all of the commotion. Perhaps his shivers were due to living things passing through him.

    Strong limbs wrapped across his chest from behind and he nearly fainted.
    "Shi-" Catching his breath, he stumbled forward somewhat with the weight that now pressed against him. "Christ, I thought you were something else."
    A familiar chuckle splayed down over his ear and cheek. "'m'sorry, 'zu." The older man pulled back, sliding his hands up the blonde's chest and resting on his shoulders. "I thought you'd be home by now. Whaddare ya still doin' out?"
    Kira adjusted his robes. He blinked a few times, cocked his head to the side, kept his back to his visitor while he forced himself to relax. His body hesitated awkwardly before loosening a hair. "I lost track of time." Stepping away from his ally, he headed in the direction of his division, knowing that Hisagi would follow even if he begged him to keep his distance. And a brief second later, the tall, dark, figure was beside him, matching his pace and his silence.
    The brunette nudged his partner; he slid his fingers softly over the still-tense Shinigami's arm, pulling Kira's left hand from his side and pressing a kiss to the skin of his palm. He held the colder, trembling hand in his own, gave his grip a pulse, and slid his fingers free. "Diddya forget I was comin' over tonight?"
    Thumbing the inside of his hand where Hisagi's lips had just been, Kira shook his head. "-just didn't realize how late it was." He swallowed a lump in his throat and fought off another chill that was forcing its way to his spine. "No one came to take my place."
    Hisagi slowed his tread so as not to leave the younger man behind, glancing sidelong at the profile that had yet to become a full face since he had arrived. He cleared his throat. He focused on his feet, mentally reminding them not to speed up. He could feel Kira beside him, but he was somewhere else completely. Nodding his head to his own internal beat, he looked to the other Vice Captain. "Y'okay?"
    Kira nodded, and then added, "Tired."
    The dark-haired man stopped, moved in on his friend. "Look at me, Kir." He lowered his head, ventured to meet the sad blue eyes that were trying so desperately to avoid him. "'zuru."
    With the firm hands on his shoulders again, there was no dodging the conversation. He met Hisagi's gaze and doubted himself for a moment long enough to release another shiver into his bloodstream. He impelled himself to nod again, though it was more difficult with the focus solely on him. "I'm fine." He watched a familiar eyebrow raise in question and repeated himself. "I'm fine, really." The hold on him slackened and he let out a sigh.
    And just as he was easing, his body froze again: Hisagi's mouth took him by surprise. The 9th Division Lieutenant had yet to allow them to be seen in public like this, and regardless of the fact that it was well beyond night and most of the Shinigami had already gone home to crash, it was still technically public. He opened his mouth to the kiss; his cold, quivering hands reached up to grip at the dark fabric of his partner's robes; the shiver that he had felt all night melted with the new heat that was pouring into him from Hisagi's lips. They peeled from each other (after the older man leaned in for a few more gentle pecks), and Kira ran his tongue out over the crease of his now-lonely mouth. He imagined that the alcohol he was beginning to taste might have influenced Hisagi's lax discipline about the entire situation, but left it alone. When they began walking again, Hisagi's hand in his own once more, he licked his lips again. "How is Renji?"
    Hisagi smirked and ran a thumb over his bottom lip, as if he might somehow rid himself of the traces that he was out earlier that night. Curling his fingers between Kira's, he tightened his grip. "He's fine. He says 'hey.'" Turning his head to look at the blonde, he flashed his teeth. "He was gonna come to see you, but he passed out in the street on the way and I didn't want to make you wait."
    Kira turned at this. "You-"
    "I got that Rikichi kid to come haul his ass back to Sixth, don't worry." He watched as Kira looked back ahead, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, no doubt from the image that he had just given. "You should come with us next time we go out. Everyone asks about you." After a moment of quiet, he spoke again, softer. "I'm sorry.."
    "No, no." Kira was quick to respond, almost waving it off. "I know you're just trying to help, I just.. I don't.. I can't really cope like that anymore." His eyes fell to the ground that seemed to move beneath them. It was silent for another few moments, only broken by Hisagi's cease in motion which pulled him back as well. "Wha-"
    "Can't even remember your own place?" The brunette cocked his head to the door. He had adopted an almost innocent expression that had Kira's heart rate speeding. "Now I'm worried about you."
    The younger man smirked, steadily narrowing the space between them, allowing Hisagi's grasp to reel him in. He brushed an arm against his ally's chest as he moved to slide the door open. The hard fingers fell from his own, and he turned back to see the silhouette of Hisagi leaning in his doorway.
    "Y'gonna be alright?"
    There was an instance when his stance improved, albeit it all too hastily passed and his shoulders lowered, though it was almost unnoticeable in the darkness. He nodded. His finger traced his lips. He nodded again. "Yeah, I'll be fine." He could hardly convince himself, and knew that he had failed at impressing the other man when Hisagi did not move at all from where he stood. Kira gave him his back; he eyed the empty room with pity. The older Vice Captain had still not moved- he could sense it. "Could-" His head lowered to the ground at the thought of how pathetic he must sound. "Could you.. maybe.. stay for a bit..?"
    Footsteps. The door sliding closed. The encompassing arms around him again. Though this time, he did not shiver.

----

Aether.

2009-02-09T03:27:11Z

Series: Elements.
Author: Barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Ikkaku Madarame.
Prompt: Number 3: Silence.
Word Count: 833
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Ikkaku in the shower. Masturbating.
Warning: Masturbation.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I eat cheerios and teach my boys the good and bad characters of LOST.
A/N: This is a portion of a Five Part Series. I just don't feel like waiting until I finish all of them.

αἰθήρ, Aether.

    The steady flow of hot water over his body hurt in all the right places. The steaming liquid seemed to know exactly which muscles ached, which muscles would relax under it's boiling ministrations. His head falling back, the small streams fell into the crevices across his collarbone before slipping along the defined contour of his frame, slowing their pace in the deeper lines of hard tone or fresh wounds. He remained this way for a few minutes, merely allowing the spray of water to assault his skin, to violate his body. He let out a grunt as the temperature almost burned the tanned flesh that pulled tightly over his build.
    After a moment of this searing agony, he broke his pose and reached for the soap. Somehow in the quiet, it was easier to pay attention to the way his body reacted to his own touch; the lotion spread over him and he used his fingers to work the soft bubbles into his skin, delicately at first and then ever-harder. Somehow in the quiet, it was easier to sense his breath pick up at the glide of his hands over his chest. It almost caught him off-guard. And so he did it again. Rough, calloused fingers dithered longer each time, explored further each time, until he was tracing the well-defined lines of muscle that made up his abdomen. Only when his hips loosened did his hands fall away.
    His chest was visibly rising and falling. He thought about cooling the steady rain, but did not. He was intrigued now.
    Lifting his arms once more, he massaged his scalp, leaning his head into the rub of his hands, his fingers, his nails. An idea struck him and he exposed his throat to the spray again, lowering his hands to follow his body, now allowing his fingernails to scrape along his chest. The brief sting was masked by the burn of the water; he continued, scratching patterns into himself like a scarred tattoo. And then one merciless finger unintentionally grazed a newer incision below his collar and a hiss escaped between his teeth.
    His head felt lighter. He rested his back against cold tile. He caught his breath.
    And then he touched it again.
    It began with a light skim of it with the pads of his fingers; with every brush of the wound he lingered, pressing harder, finally using the shower walls to support himself as he ground his knuckles into it. Red-painted eyes fluttered closed in an almost drunken display. And while his left hand prolonged the pain, his right hand slid over his chest, thumbed a nipple, drifted lower and further and deliciously close to where he so desperately craved his right hand to slide.
    When he gripped himself, a groan tore from his throat and he coughed slightly, realizing only then that he had been holding his breath. The tile began to move behind him, the continuous blaze from the shower-head and sweat forming on his skin maintaining a lather on his back that had him feeling even less steady. His fist pumped a few times and he adjusted his stance. Everything rushed to and fled from his head at once; spreading his fingers apart, his left hand flirted less with the cut and more with his nipple. A bit of control returned to him.
    Forcing his body solidly against the wall, he pumped himself again. The awful sound of his teeth grinding together rang in his head, his pulse quickening, his fist trying to keep up. His arms were sore from an entire day of battle, but the discomfort only added to it.
    Muttering incoherently, he bit down, breaking into the flesh of his lower lip, and moaning at the copper taste on his tongue. Sword-bearing digits taunted his chest, his muscles weakening under the pressure that was tightening within him. He unhinged his pelvis and, settling into a rhythm, compelled his hips away from the wall. Each movement eased the ache in his biceps, and he continued to thrust into his willing palm.
    Breath quickening, he pushed harder against his hand, pushed deeper, and his body arched until only the back of his head and his shoulder-blades remained as an anchor to stability.
    The sensation shot to his head. Blood pulsed to his groin. His hips rocked against the friction of his hand which he eventually pumped again as well. And then a shudder ran through him, extended to each limb; his legs fought to stay planted on the wet ground, and he let it last for as long as he could before his jaw fell open with a pant and wrapped fingers ventured to maintain their motion. His right hand fell to his side, his left propping up on the wall in order to keep him standing. He calmed his heavy inhalations, he straightened his spine, he licked a drop of blood from his lip. The fog on the glass had very little to do with hot water.

All Work and No Play.

2008-11-03T17:25:39Z

OH MY GOD, I WROTE SOMETHING?!

Title: All Work and No Play.
Author: Barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Ikkaku Madarame, Yachiru Kusajishi.
Prompt: Number 9: Remember.
Word Count: 510
Rating: G.
Summary: Summary, Summary, Summary.
Warning: Fluff.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I eat cheerios and teach my boys the good and bad characters of LOST.

    To say that he heard her voice would be one of the most understated things that was ever spoken. He could not only hear her voice; he could feel it. The high-pitched squeal of it shot a twinge from the base of his spine to the walls of his head where it remained, floating, stinging, squealing. And before he could rid himself of the vibrating shiver, she was on him, small fingers clawing at his shoulders as she clambered up his back, sharp baby teeth biting playfully against the round, shiny orb that was his head.
    His body tensed. He clenched his jaw. He scowled. "C'mon, Yachiru." Thickened with irritation, his voice opposed hers sharply, as lightning that struck out against the perfect clouds. "Gerroff." The man did not attempt to shake her from himself, for he had leaned (the hard way) how well the small pink-haired girl could cling like a frightened kitten to his flesh if he did so. Instead, he took a deep breath; and then he ventured to relax his shoulders- though difficult with her strong grip still forced into them. ".. 'Chiru." Louder now, he spoke again. "Get.. off.. of.. me." The sentence was separated, as if she were a puppy and it made a difference how the tone of his voice and length of his words were when they were set free from his clearly aggravated mouth.
    Pouting, the Vice Captain tightened her hold, expecting the worst from her generally-hostile Division-mate. "Aw, Baldy." With her now so near, Ikkaku cringed as the twinge set off on it's well-known course once more. "Pleeease? Play a game with me!"
    The groan that he had intended to allow past his lips came out sounding as a defeated sigh. The tone of her voice now hit him in a different way.
    "C'mon, please?"

    "Please?"
    "You know that I want to, champ, but Dad's got work to do."
    "Just for a few minutes, I promise!"
    "I don't have the time, sport. Another day, alright?"
    "You never have time.. It's not fair."
    "Life isn't fair, Ikkaku. There are jobs to do; there is work to do. We can't all sit around and relax like you can. That's just the way that it is. If you want to play, you have to work."
    And then there was a pat on his head and the close of a door and another afternoon of kicking his ball frustratingly against the fence.

    "Please, Baldy? Just a quick game?"
    A deep breath of fresh air was forced into his lungs and he could not fight off the smirk that curled his earlier-pursed lips. "What are we playin'?"
    In a matter of seconds she was off of him and to the ground and on the run; she only turned her gleeful face to yell over her shoulder. "Catch me and I'll tell you!"
    And Ikkaku's body loosened. And his eyes smiled. And he dropped his katana to the grass to follow the blur of pink. He had worked enough. He deserved a little bit of play.

----

"That's all we've got."

2008-08-20T03:11:47Z

"Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader", every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."
☆ Carl Sagan

Role Play II.

2008-07-14T22:49:27Z

Ikkaku Madarame's writing sample for my hardboiled_rpg application.

    "DAHL! DAHL!" The air hitched in his lungs, his breathing ever heavier as he ran. "Oliver!" The weighty thud of his feet to the ground mirrored the painful, racing pound of his heart; even as his flight ceased, the sound resided, echoing from his chest cavity to resonate and add to the throbbing in his skull. His knees hit the cold cement. He could feel death in the surrounding air.
    "Oliver, c'mon, talk to me!" The body of his fellow officer lay before him, lifeless. Ikkaku was conscious to the fact that his words, his attempts at revival, were beyond futile, but the constant drive of his vengeful mind would not allow for his will to cave in so effortlessly. "DAHL!" His voice becoming raspy with the unending screams, the bald man growled. "Fuck!"
    "Madarame!"
    The piercing noise of sirens and yells and footsteps did not phase him; even as they drew closer with each beat of his pulse.
    "Madarame, is everythi-"
    The footsteps stopped. The voice stopped. And yet, to Ikkaku- regardless of the world moving around him- this moment in time had been paused even before his colleague had determined to take control of the speed.
    When his name was spoken too many more times, he turned. And it was as if everything beyond him was suspended; as if not a thing existed, not a thing. Except for that one figure, that one shadow, that one nightmare of a human being. Certainly the officer who had spoken must think him psychotic, the look of amplified desire to kill in his red-streaked eyes. But he did not care. He did not even see this comrade. Of all the encompassing darkness, only a singular gravity fell upon him. He was sprinting again before his mind could catch up.
    "Madarame!"
    The shadow did not appear to see him, nor look with the other officer yelling Ikkaku's name. Yet- as if he could somehow hear Ikkaku's heart beating, somehow feel Ikkaku's predatory glare- the figure hesitated for a seemingly-trivial instance. And that was all that Ikkaku needed.
    The other man's body cushioned him from cement, but it did not aid him in the fall. He felt as if his temper had taken the form of his weapon, pummeling rage through his skull; there was nothing keeping him from releasing every ounce of fury on this man.
    "You want to go to jail, motherfucker?!" Knuckles tore against the monster's face. "Huh? You want to die?" His elbow cracked the bridge of the killer's nose; the sound of it caused Ikkaku's breathing to pick up. His fists shot as pure payback, the ultimate satisfaction: ripping, breaking, destroying the creature that trembled beneath him. "I'll fuckin' kill you!"
    "Officer!"
    "Madarame!"
    "I'll kill you!"
    "Ikkaku!"
    Solid hands wrapped across his chest, seized him from the criminal, his rage still elevating.
    "No, no! He killed-"
    "I know."
    "HE FUCKIN' KILLE-"
    "Ikkaku!"
    By the time he was capable of turning, the car door had slammed; it was driving off in a haze of noise and lights. And then the rest of the world somehow came back into focus.
    He was walking, though he did not recall telling his feet to do so. The hand on his back was too familiar, too firm, too understanding- at this moment, he hated it. He stopped. Police headlights now shone on the reason he had come here in the first place. He swallowed. The blanket was laid over his ally. He ground his teeth. His hands, now illuminated in the flashing red and blue, were coated. His own knuckles were split; he could not tell the difference between which blood was his and which blood was the killer's. It seemed the same. And Ikkaku had to force himself to let go of how similar he and the monster truly were.

Role Play.

2008-05-14T02:36:08Z

My hardboiled_rpg writing sample for Nnoitra Jiruga.
His history can be found here. (About halfway down the page.)

-----
    Dark eyes fluttered across the room, scanning the dimly lit area for her description. The soft hum of jazz that resonated through the building did not phase his already-fogged mind. He was out of cigarettes. The empty pack sat crumpled on the small, round table before him, and he repeatedly flicked open his Zippo, as if the familiar sound and dance of light would replace the comfort of tobacco in his system. He took another drink of his liquor, the twinge of this particular sip joining each one before it at the brow of his spine. Nnoitra's eyes scanned the room once more, hovering briefly over the clock on the wall. Despite the fact that he had time, he continued to fidget with the lighter, maintained the high that shot through him with each emptying tumbler. Raising his glass, he motioned for the waitress, who kept her distance while still tending to his request. He was used to it. As a usual in these parts, it wasn't imperceptible, what he was doing there; he flashed her a smirk, bringing the crisp alcohol to his lips; the clinking of ice against crystal was virtually the only sound that disturbed the otherwise-typical buzz that lingered in the bar.
   This section of town was filled with scum like himself, his prime arena. Around here, no one thought better of him pulling a hooker into his car: the ideal place for him to do his business. To say that he was fond of his job would be a lie: he was not fond of anything, especially this. He craved it; he hungered for more of it. He had been raised around it, known nothing beyond it. The sensation that coursed through his body each day, each persistent reminder of the fact that he would continue on in this lifestyle, had him more aroused that any physical experience.
   He was sick. And he was conscious of this.
   His gaze swept the room again- checking the time, checking the door. Another empty glass beside his vacant cigarette package. He plucked an ice cube from the void, running it along his lips, pulling it into his mouth with his tongue. He allowed it to settle there, allotted it the privilege of vanishing of it's own volition.
   Nnoitra Jiruga had done this hundreds of times. He would get a call from the boss, drive to this bar, and while he waited, order himself bourbon (or a few) and have a smoke (or a few). This was his business. Since the age of seventeen he had been here, night after night after night, escorting another desperate woman towards what she expected to be rebirth, and what he knew all too well to be demise. Rarely did he fidget; this night, however, was unlike any other night that he had endured for his job.
   Something in his mind had questioned the familiar sound of her name. Cecelia Giordano. Surely he had mistaken her name for someone else's; the few people that he knew in the city were all a part of the business- how would he know this name? This beautiful woman's name? It rang through his head, tore quickly across every nerve in his body, diseasing his mind with the constant query of why these eight syllables were so recognizable to him. Of course, eventually work caught up with him and this mystery was forced aside. And, despite the fact that she was on the bottom of his priority list, the truth was that she never left it, always remaining as if the two words were an incessant plea for his memory to regain itself.
   And then he remembered.
   Cecelia Giordano. Down the street. She was gorgeous! Her pale skin stood out against the other girls who had taken their dominant fathers' natural tan, and the perfect clarity of her petite face only added to how faultless her small, pink lips were, how dark wisps of hair would wrap around her, framing her beauty, luring the purity from her large chocolate eyes to the surface before pulling you under with them. She was so young the last time he had seen her; no older than six or seven, and yet it was obvious that she would grow- flourish- into an absolutely stunning woman. It saddened him to think that this could be her.
   Unconsciously, he had begun toying with his lighter once more, the flame taunting him and the fact that he could not alleviate the pressure that was building in his head. He did not have to call for another bourbon; the glass was filled before him when his eyes flashed over the table to stare down the clock. Holding it's hands gaze did not help to speed them up. And it rather appeared that they had terminated their rounds completely.
   "Are you him?"
   He did not startle, instead turning smoothly at the voice.
   Cecelia Giordano. He recognized her instantly. Not responding, he chugged the rest of his alcohol, the swallow of it stinging his throat, and he opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue. Her beautiful eyes glanced down, tracing the black number and nodding almost-disappointedly. Her delicate hand reached out, as she forced the best, pirated smile that anyone could under such circumstances. "Giordano." The softness of her voice floated, followed the hum of jazz. "Cecelia Giordano." Nnoitra could feel her stare sear his skin; she was scrutinizing him, as if she knew him, but could not place where or why. Her poise and confidence took him slightly off-guard. She was unlike the other women that he had picked up from this bar. She opened her thin, pink lips. "And you are..?"
   Nnoitra stood, dwarfing her dainty form in his towering stature. His focus remained solely on her, even as he reached into his pocket, even as he opened his wallet, even as he threw the twenty onto the table. "I'm no one."
-----

More Bleach Graphics.

2008-05-03T19:28:39Z

Bleach Colored Manga Icons & Graphics.
[3] Ikkaku & Variations.
[9] Yumichika & Variations.
[3] Ikkaku/Yumi Banners & Variations.

Comment & Credit ^^

Bleach Graphics.

2008-05-03T01:02:43Z

10 Bleach Icons
[6] Mashiro (& Variations.)
[4] Kensei.
[1] Kensei & Hisagi 'Banner'.

Comments are lovely.
Credit, please ^^

the Other Side of the Wall.

2008-04-16T21:19:12Z

A/N: I started this piece absurd amounts of time ago. And it is the first time I've written a 'sex' scene in a while, so I had to readjust.. It is finally finished. Opposite 'Initiation'.
Title: the Other Side of the Wall.
Author: Barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Shuuhei Hisagi, Yumichika Ayasegawa.
Word Count: 833
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: What happens on the other side of the wall in 'Initiation'.
Warning: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Boys on Boys, Oral.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hammies.

--------

   This night was meant as a celebration, Renji's acceptance into the 11th Division- although, most of them saw it as an excuse to drink more alcohol than humanly possible. Still, it would have been rude had they left in the midst of the festivities, but after Kira had fallen limply on the floor, and the other two were still somehow pounding more bottles into their systems, the oldest assumed that their sudden disappearance would hardly be noticed.
   He had miraculously convinced the pretty man to down his own liquor, leaving them both a little tipsy as they stumbled into Renji's bedroom. Hisagi was (unfortunately) experienced in how dreadfully his mouth ran off when he was trashed; deciding that it would be the best idea to entirely deny his mind the privilege of speaking, he was on the 5th Seat the moment that the door began sliding closed.
   He grunted his desire into the familiar territory of his boyfriend's mouth, rapidly occupying his worn, fumbling hands with the smooth, stiff muscles in front of him. The already trivial quantity of space between them was hastily decreasing, Yumichika's vulnerable mind compelling him to drive himself back against his shaggy-haired beau. The hot contact urged a throaty groan from the older man. "Mm.. God, you feel so good, Yume." His unforgiving hands travelled lower, tighter, on the pretty man, fingering the hard jut of his hip bone, retracing their path, this time underneath the dark fabric that isolated him from the irresistible flesh. Attaching his sloppy kisses to Yumichika's jaw, the 9th Division sucked longingly on the tight neck, sensing immediately the rich moan that shook from the succulent throat, teasing his swollen, sake-infested lips. He simultaneously trailed lower on the warm skin and tore the thick cloth open, exposing the clean, flawless muscles, which he lustfully adjusted to taste. He hardly detected that his back had collided with the wall; that his own top had been left behind on the floor; that the desperate whimpers from his partner had turned to hungry need. He hadn't fully become aware until the gloriously harsh fingers were taunting his solid stomach; until he was suddenly too aware of how the contrastingly cool breeze felt in comparison to Yumichika's hot breath.
   Hisagi allowed his breathing to pick up, tensing at the merciless hands that now gripped the smooth, milky skin of his thighs. Yumichika's control over the situation was orgasmic in itself. And now, his humid sighs ghosting over the sensitive skin, savage thumbs brushing unspoken flirtations against the muscles just a bit higher. He threw back his head, fists clenching at the desperation, the need, he had from the simple idea of what was about to occur. Yumichika reveled in such displays of aching, waiting for the image to soak in before finally acting upon his nerves.
   He did not immediately alleviate his boyfriend's heavy breaths. His puffy lips first explored the hard rise and fall of Hisagi's hips, tracing the damp heat of his tongue across solid bone. The Lieutenant grunted frustratingly, arching his back from the wall, silently pleading with the pretty Shinigami. Yumichika lowered his lazy kisses- each one intensified the older man's throaty grunts; each one shook the wall with Hisagi's pounding fists. Despite the severity of his craving, the dark haired man was still left breathless when the teasing had terminated.
   His boyfriend's tongue had somehow become more passionate, thicker and more luscious than before. The perfect mouth seemed well-aware of precisely where to explore, accurate in it's methods of continuing to force Hisagi to beg for more, regardless of the fact that he was currently being treated to everything: the heat, the steam, the deftness of Yumichika's flawless lips, his tongue, his teeth. Every stroke, every nip, every listless forte wrenched at his erotic mind; he was rapidly thrown from restlessness to placidity, he was strengthened as hastily as he was weakened, torn between melting into the wall or propelling himself deeper into the gorgeous muzzle.
   "You're a God, Yume.."
   The smaller man smirked, breathing a silent laugh, and compelling Hisagi to writhe against the sensation. His experienced mouth captivated, it seduced each and every muscle, each and every cell that encompassed the Vice Captain's body. Yumichika was tempting; he lured silky threads from the throbbing flesh, sensing immediately his partner's attempted avoidance of a whimper.
   "Jesus Christ.." Hisagi panted, his back bowing from the thin wall. The feeling of the swollen lips against his collarbone made him shudder, and he unconsciously wrapped an arm around the 11th Division. Most of his motion was controlled- though a small part of him remained hazed, unwilling to let go of his high- as he pushed himself, and the pretty boy, to the floor. The surprise and the weight of his body pulled a satisfied groan from Yumichika, though it was quickly muffled into Hisagi's (almost-)violent kiss. It was merely luck that Ikkaku chose to keep Renji occupied for the next few hours.

--------

Oeuvre.

2008-04-15T03:41:06Z

RIHKY Related.

   Training Strays.
   Come Back to Me.
   Immunity.
   Valentine.
   Birthday.
   the Other Side of the Wall.
   Musing.
   First Kisses.
   Shiver.
   Celebrating.
   Proximity.

   Miniseries-esque.
       If.
       Defeat.
       Confession.
       Fiction.

    War.
       Reunion.

    Elements.
       αἰθήρ, Aether.
       Γαια, Earth.
       έιλή, Fire.
       ύδωρ, Water.
       άήρ, Air.

Shinigami Related.
   Old Friends.

Arrancar Related.
   Weak.

Fifty Scenes.
   004. Secrets.
   005. Blankets.
   009. Remember.
   010. Writer's Choice: Cold.
   011. Hand.
   015. Hold.
   020. Writer's Choice: Inauguration.
   022. Hide.
   025. Shame.
   028. Apologize.
   031. Watch.
   037. Half.
   042. Flowers.
   043. Gentle.
   044. Speak.


                                                             Or see the entire List, HERE.

Fifty Scenes.

2008-04-15T03:30:59Z

For 50scenes.

Claim: Ikkaku Madarame.
Prompts: Table 5.

001. Twilight.
002. Burn.
003. Silence.
004. Secrets.
005. Blankets.
006. Linger.
007. Clouds.
008. Liar.
009. Remember.
010. Writer's Choice: Cold.
011. Hand.
012. Distance.
013. February.
014. Fill.
015. Hold.
016. Fire.
017. Tomorrow.
018. Closer.
019. Heed.
020. Writer's Choice: Inauguration.
021. Underneath.
022. Hide.
023. Flash.
024. Anger.
025. Shame.
026. Adoration.
027. Waves.
028. Apologize.
029. Waiting.
030. Writer's Choice.
031. Watch.
032. Regret.
033. Plain.
034. Shy.
035. Moonlight.
036. Melt.
037. Half.
038. Leave.
039. Neutral.
040. Writer's Choice.
041. Winter.
042. Flowers.
043. Gentle.
044. Speak.
045. Last.
046. Dew.
047. Night.
048. Footsteps.
049. End.
050. Writer's Choice.

My entire Oeuvre can be found, HERE.

Strength.

2008-04-12T21:33:18Z

Title: Strength.
Author: Barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Ikkaku Madarame.
Prompt: Number 25: Shame.
Word Count: 371
Rating: PG.
Summary: Ikkaku tests himself. Takes place before Soul Society!Ikka. (A/N after the piece.)
Warning: Self-Inflicted Wounds.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamsters.

---------

   .. It would make him stronger.

   He scanned his well-built frame in the mirror. He cocked his head to one side. His skin appeared a blank canvas, his own will the tools that would create the artwork that was his body. It was somewhat disappointing- months of eyeing himself in the mirror, contemplating what his creativity could brand upon such a willing slate- finally, he was going to break in his brush.
   It was the only time that he had ever felt strangely holding his sword, clenching the sheer power between his anxious palms. The thick, cold metal reflected upon the walls, it's shine taunting him, tempting him, acquiescing his need to, at last, institute his masterpiece.
   The katana reproduced his dithering, and he seized the blade in his palm so as to veil his own hesitation. The feel of it, the sensation that it aroused by it's sharp touch, effaced any prior queries; he slid the weapon through his grasp, grinding his teeth as it tore effortlessly at his skin. When the length of it had escaped his clutches, he allowed his breathing to pick up. He did not dare look at his hand just yet. He diminished any impulse, squeezing his new wound securely to the hilt. He hissed. Noting- synchronizing- how his panting had increased and the sight of his shoulders rising and falling in the mirror, he chewed on his lip, before turning his wrist and holding his saber across himself. With each endless inch that narrowed between, he doubted; and then, the edge was against his chest, and his eyes were shutting tightly. This new sever differed: he had already become conscious of the agony it would instill, as it had in his aching hand. A deep, helpless grunt echoed from his throat and throughout the room. His whole body tensed.
   The ringing of his sword colliding with tile resonated through him; to his now-open, throbbing hand; to the stinging incision across his chest. He perceived the hot, crimson liquid as it slipped down muscle, staining each line of definition.

   He scanned his well-built frame in the mirror. He cocked his head to one side. Seeing that his artwork was in motion at last, he smirked.

---------

A/N: I don't generally write something such as: 'here's how this came about, yada yada', but I feel that with this piece I should explain why exactly I birthed this, and what exactly I am trying to convey. Ikkaku seems, to me, one of the few people who would ever waste his time cutting himself; which is why I chose to write why it would be incredibly plausible. Baldy is strong.. physically. And he wants to be just as strong emotionally. At this point (in this piece) in his life, he really hasn't experienced a lot of battle time. He wants to know that, when the time comes, he can stand up to a blade. I really enjoyed- as sick as it seems- the concept of him pushing his own limits, testing, for himself, how strong he truly was.

Left Behind.

2008-04-12T21:31:04Z

Title: Left Behind.
Author: Barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Ikkaku Madarame.
Prompt: Number 28: Apologize.
Word Count: 218
Rating: G.
Summary: Ikkaku faces his loneliness. References to 'Flower'.
Warning: Short, Angst, Ikkaku Pity.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamsters.

------

   If he were paying attention, he would have been irritated by how beautiful of a day it chose to be; he might have shielded his eyes from the heat that buzzed through bright green branches, blossoming with flowers and birds; perhaps he may have even noticed that each face that ghosted past him was stricken with genuine content.
   But he was not paying attention.

   His knees met the ground, and (almost grudgingly) he read the all-too-familiar words that were permanently embedded upon the gray stone. A large hand met the cool rock, resting there, as if this contact would replace the shoulder that he could no longer embrace. But this hard, numb tablet was too distant from her warmth to even simulate such necessary comfort. He bowed his head, biting his lip to fight back the loneliness that was surging through him.
   "Ma.." His eyes blurred; fingers traced the engraved letters of her name. "I.. love you, Ma.." He allowed the rush to overpower him, not even blinking the tears from spilling over his skin. He would not waste another second in the dark when he was with her. "I-I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. that I couldn't save you."
   He placed before her, a single daisy, before rising to his feet and falling once more into his stranded world.

------

Reminder.

2008-04-12T21:28:33Z

Title: Reminder.
Author: Barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Ikkaku Madarame.
Prompt: Number 15: Hold.
Word Count: 637
Rating: G.
Summary: Ikkaku and his Mommy go for a walk.
Warning: A bit of angst, references to 'Turning Point' and 'Flower'.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamsters.

-------

    He always felt these emotions whenever he returned to this house. Something about the familiarity of it all set off a recipe in his head: a mixture of hope and sadness.
    "Ikkaku, love!" His mother smiled.
    Her voice distracted him from his musing. She was beaming. The bald man watched- ready to lend a balancing arm at any moment- as his family stepped slowly down the shifting, creaking porch. When she reached the bottom and took his hand in her own frail one, he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "Hey, Ma."
    "And to what do I owe such a charming visit?" His mother grinned, showing off the beautiful smile marks that life had left her with over the years.
    "Just thought I'd come an' see you." He started. "I thought maybe we could go for a walk or something."
    The woman hummed to herself, smiling into the warm breeze, before turning to her son. "That would be lovely."

    "How is Yumichika doing? I haven't seen him around in quite a while."
    Ikkaku eyed the park's infestation with couples, and tightened his grip on his mother's delicate hand. "He misses you, Ma. But he's doin' okay."
    His mother warmed at her son's affectionate touch, turning to look at him as they strolled. "He is such a nice young man." Frowning somewhat, she focused her attention once more on the ground before her feet. "I remember his mother was so worried when those.. awful men went after him. Mm.." She chewed on her lip, shaking her head as the conversation replayed itself in her head.
    "I know, Ma.." Scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, he shrugged helplessly. "You know that I did what I could."
    "Oh, no, no.. " Stopping her tread, she turned to face Ikkaku. "Sweetheart, of course. I know that you did everything that your power allowed you to do. I just.." She hesitated; her mind corralled it's thoughts, delineating whether or not she should finish her sentence.
    "What is it?" Ikkaku looked concerned. "Are you okay?" When she said nothing, he cocked his head, meeting her quiet pout. "Ma?"
    "No, it's nothing.." Writing it off of her mind, she began to walk again, stopping herself when the calloused hand slid free of her own. "Ikkaku.."
    "I tired to keep them from doin' it again."
    ".. Love?"
    "Why I tracked them down." He explained; his mother's eyes saddened, and he walked to her. "Mom.. I don't blame you for anything that happened with-"
    "If I had stopped him from hurting you.."
    "It was years ago, it isn't even worth thinking abou-"
    "I still think about it."
    Ikkaku's breathing stilled.
    "I-It was.. horrific. I wanted so desperately to hold you in my arms and take you away from all of it, but.. I couldn't help you.." For a moment, she seemed as if she were about to cry, swallowing the mere thought, steadying herself. "I.. can't stop; I think that.. if I had stopped him.. I wouldn't have to worry about you going out and getting into fights."
    "Mom.." Ikkaku rested a hand on her shoulder, watching as her eyes filled, and pulled her into himself. "Mom, I have never held you responsible for any of that." He felt her sigh into his chest, and kissed her on top of the head. "You have always helped me, Ma." His smile was noticeable in his voice, and she looked up at him due to it. "You saved me that day. And I love you for it."
    The fine wrinkles alongside her eyes deepened with her grin. "I love you too, Sweetheart."
    When Ikkaku took her hand once again, she relaxed, her feet meeting the ground beside his, and the daisy-sprinkled path evoking each reason as to why his grip made her heart soar.

-------

Daybreak.

2008-04-09T02:17:21Z

I wrote this in about.. 10 minutes; apologies in advance if it's teh suck.

Title: Daybreak.
Author: barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Ikkaku Madarame, Yumichika Ayasegawa.
Prompt: Number 5: Blankets.
Word Count: 463
Rating: PG.
Summary: Ikkaku and Yumichika in the morning.
Warning: Boy Stuff, Biting, Somewhat Fluffy.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamsters.

---------

    The warm breath against his chest caused him to stir. Opening his eyes, he noted the 5th Seat sleeping, his breathing quiet, nuzzled into his boyfriend's side. Ikkaku ran his fingers through the smoothness of the short, dark hair, slipping lower to trace the lines of Yumichika's back; the pretty Shinigami hummed, rolling over, clinging to the heated skin beside him. When his eyes fluttered open, the bald man bit his lip.
    "Sorry.. 'd'I wake you?"
    Thumbing the muscles of his partner's abdomen, Yumichika smiled. "It was a lovely wake up." He watched Ikkaku venture to retain a smirk, and placed a tender kiss to the abused skin.
    The light touch was enough to melt the 3rd Seat, who rested an arm behind his head and focused on the ceiling. "How'd you sleep?"
    "Mm.. Better because you were here." Yumichika rolled onto his side, peeking up through his eyelashes to his distracted beau. Allowing his violet eyes to sear skin, he outlined the intensity- each crease, each bit of depth- that constituted his best friend's body; his gaze stopped at a shoulder, retracing the heavy bite mark that was now bruising there. Instinctively, he reached out, hardly brushing the pads of his fingers to the wound.
    Ikkaku flinched.
    "I guess that I got you pretty good last night." Yumichika was expressionless, torn between revealing his guilt or pride in his homemade souvenir. Dipping his thumb once more into the slight gap, he was met with the other man's stare. "I'm sorry that I scarred you." He wasn't truthfully; but the look in the red-streaked eyes was compelling him to admit his (insignificant amount of) shame.
    The bald man scanned his face briefly, before giving in to his smirk. "It's okay, Yume. 's'kinda sexy."
    The pretty man licked his lips. "Well, why don't I even it out a bit.." His harsh fingers outlined the unmarred shoulder, his grin flirting with the 3rd Seat. He did not need approval; he did not require any response at all. Fluently he shifted, straddling his boyfriend's hips, his nails grating across the broad chest beneath him.
    Ikkaku grunted, fingering the hard- yet smooth- jut of bone just above his partner's waist. The thin sheet clung (just barely), hanging on to Yumichika's thin midriff; as he lowered himself to breathe against familiar flesh, it nearly fell away completely. He ran his tongue over the initial injury, as if to know it; to instill in his mind how it felt; to replicate it flawlessly on the opposing shoulder.
    The sensation of the wet muscle retracing it's owner's artwork had Ikkaku gripping, more roughly than before, to the 5th Seat's body. He willed his eyes to close, and ground his teeth at the erotic fangs that sunk perfectly into his skin.

---------

Weak.

2008-04-08T03:11:08Z

For the wonderful, yuidirnt- who gave me a reason to finally write these two; I had such a fun time with this prompt. Apologies for taking so long with this- I have been struck with miserable writer's neglect, that I am hopefully over now. I wish for you to enjoy, Dearest ^^

Title: Weakness.
Author: barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Szayel Aporro Granz, Il Forte Granz.
Prompt: Szayel healing Il Forte.
Word Count: 654
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Szayel feels that Il Forte is inadequate.
Warning: Boy x Boy, Incest, Language.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamsters.

--------

   "Honestly.. How is it that you achieve such wounds? Are you truly that weak?" The Espada scoffed, testing another syringe before aiming it at his patient.
   "Wait!" Il Forte sat up quickly, all the while eyeing the needle with apprehension. "What is that?"
   "Truthfully, Il Forte.." The spectacled Hollow sounded annoyed, swabbing blood from his brother's chest, and positioning the weapon once more for the scarred skin. "If you are fearful of a needle.." Sinking the thin rod into muscle, he smirked at the blonde's slight whimper; releasing the fluid and extracting his tool (rather harshly), he shook his head. "It is no surprise that you obtain failure so effortlessly."
   The older grimaced, sitting up on the hard table and running a hand through his long locks; he scowled at his sibling. "You need to do anything else, or can I go?"
   Szayel leaned on a hip, eyeing the 15th Arrancar, reading him. "Have you not yet come to terms with the fact that I am better than you? Or are you simply angry with yourself for losing such an undemanding battle?"
   Il Forte ground his teeth, snarling through them. "You bastard.."
   "No reason to take it out on me." The pink haired scientist seemed smug. "After all, I have only strengthened you."
   The blonde sneered. "You would think that, wouldn't you?" Swinging his legs from the table, he jumped down, putting himself in his younger brother's face and meeting his glare.
   The Espada did not flinch; he merely held the fierce stare, leading on that there was any real contest between them, and smirked. "Are you truly so ignorant? This must be an act." The older faltered tersely at the question. The fact that he had stopped to think had distracted his mind from the growing curl of Szayel's lips; the swiftness, how rapidly the scientist's brain had confronted his limbs. Il Forte was against the wall before he could even wrap his head around the speed that the other man possessed.
   "Weakness.." Szayel hissed into his brother's ear, moving his mouth to brush his lips along Il Forte's neck; one hand slid the long blonde hair off of the tanned skin, giving himself more permission to abuse his power; his other hand worked the sore muscles across the Arrancar's already-bare chest, down to the thick, mistreated stomach. He thumbed the newly-formed puncture wound, the warm blood that was gathering there, sliding his fingers through it and staining the deep lines of muscle with the thin, red liquid. Sensing the other man's difficulty to refrain from submission, Szayel flicked out his tongue, running it along the heated flesh. "Weak, I.F..   You.. are.. weak." He brushed his swollen lips up his brother's throat, stopping to see the clenching jaw.
   When the blonde dared to free himself, Szayel seized his sibling's groin in his calloused hand; Il Forte groaned lustfully, becoming hyper-aware of the long nails through thin fabric. The younger Granz let his grip pulse, wetting his lips as his patient ground his teeth. Szayel sniggered. "I hardly have to prove it. You are so.." Moving his mouth to his brother's chest, he breathed over the wound. ".. so.." His tongue scanned muscles, tasting the mixture of sweat and blood and raw skin. ".. weak."
   The blonde whined somewhat, his heavy breathing only interrupted by the small cry. Another throb against his willing muscle, and he forced his younger sibling off of himself; his eyes opened once more, readjusting to the light, his head still foggy. As he removed himself from the enclosure, his footing faltered. He stumbled slightly to the table, fiercely snatching up his shirt, and stalking to the door.
   "I expect I'll see you soon, I.F."
   The scientist did not turn to watch the door slam shut, remaining where he had been beside the wall, eventually raising his hand to his lips, cleaning what was left of the blood from his remorseless fingers.

--------

Be Nice.

2008-03-28T02:17:39Z

Title: Be Nice.
Author: Barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Ikkaku Madarame, Yumichika Ayasegawa.
Prompt: Number 43: Gentle.
Word Count: 627
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Yumichika cannot contain his instincts as Ikkaku plays nicely.
Warning: Boy Teasing, Shower, No Dialogue, Written in the Car, etc.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamsters.

-------

    Water pounded heavily to the floor, ringing out as the sound echoed, bouncing between the closeness of the four walls. Yumichika allowed the roughness of his shoulder blades against the solid, comfortless tile. He dissolved into the experienced mouth that taunted him as it followed the drip of moisture down his absolutely flawless chest, all the while, luring grunts of stately bliss from the beautiful man. The steady patter that resonated in the confined area had miraculously calmed the bald man immensely. Yumichika was even more turned on by how tenderly the calloused fingers were slipping over his rigid frame; he arched into the other man, gasping silently at the lazy nibbles along his collarbone, the skilled lips working sensually upward, brushing the soft skin of the 5th Seat's neck, and causing lustful contact between the two figures of damp flesh.
    Ikkaku tasted the delicious flavor, the smooth, hot water blending effortlessly into the salty warmth of his boyfriend's body. He yearned for more, craving the absolutely delectable sensation that now only taunted his aching tastebuds. As Yumichika ran a hand steadily up the bald man's chest, the 3rd Seat stopped him, gripping the wrist in his grasp and pulling the beautiful hand to himself. Not even meeting the half-glazed eyes, Ikkaku lured the willing hand to his mouth, placing tender kisses onto the open palm; the shorter Shinigami allotted his grunt to vibrate in his throat. The 3rd Seat was calm, relaxed, as he took an abused finger into his mouth, skimming the length of it, rolling his tongue against the magnificent roughness. He slowly did this with three other fingers, his breathing quiet in comparison to his partner's increasingly orgasmic moans. When he slid the long, index finger from the warm depth of his mouth, he contained his grip, kissing longingly up the muscled arm, each one higher, and each one pulling the pretty man against his solid upper body.
    Yumichika could hardly contain his arousal at the display of such foreign gentleness. As his back peeled from the wet tile, he gave in to Ikkaku's tranquility; if only to lead the bald man into the foolish assumption that he was in control. When the still-romantic kisses reached his neck, the 5th Seat seized the moment, forcibly pinning Ikkaku to the wall just below the therapeutic rain of the shower. He noted the red streaked eyes, now open, only briefly, as he was hastily urging his boyfriend's mouth open with the heated potency of his tongue. The larger man's deep groan caught in his throat, escaping the instance that the pretty man began grating his hips; Yumichika held the passionate embrace, his heavy breathing impacting his own perfect chest to Ikkaku's contrastingly scarred one.
    The entire situation weakened the taller man, this sensation of his gorgeous boyfriend mercilessly abusing the sheer power that was hidden in his beautiful body. Letting his head fall back, he ran a firm hand down the steamy figure before him, halting and hooking onto Yumichika's hip. The 5th Seat seemed smug, trailing his lips down the defined jaw, sucking the tight skin across Ikkaku's throat, lingering- merely breathing- against a broad shoulder, forcing the sensually long instance before he reattached his puffy, pink mouth to the wet skin; he was not as tender as Ikkaku had been, nibbling delicately before sinking his teeth into the abused flesh. The bald man grunted in the back of his throat, letting out a hiss with the erotically hard-core pain that satiated him so well. His hands now collaborated, venturing to pull Yumichika as close to himself as possible. Blood mixed with water, following the curve of their bodies until it fleetingly stained the pure, white tile, almost instantaneously vanishing beneath the small grate.

-------

Hippo Birdie, Harmony & Kir!

2008-03-26T13:45:47Z

Happy Birthday to the Lovely Harmony (silverharmony), and Blondie as well! Apologies for my tardiness, though now it is right in between the two party days; let's pretend that I planned it that way [: And of course, my gratitude to antha_aryn for the charming set up of this entire celebration. Harmony, Love, I wish you the best for your wonderful day ^^ Hearts to you <3

Title: Birthday.
Author: Barukode.
Fandom: BLEACH.
Character(s): Shuuhei Hisagi, Izuru Kira.
Word Count: 739
Rating: PG.
Summary: Hisagi cheers up Kira on his birday.
Warning: Boy Kisses, Kira Angst, Written in the Car- apologies in advance.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hammies.

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   "I told Renji a couple of times to just suck it up, but.." Hisagi crunched on another bite of his salad. "..but you know how he is." Stabbing another gracious bite with his fork, he swallowed what was left in his mouth, before refilling.
   Kira nodded, munching on his own greens. "Mm, Shuu.. Could you pass me the pepper?" The older grunted, reaching across the small table to hand off the spices to his blonde ally, who smiled. "Thank you."
   Hisagi grunted again, continuing his hearty chew. "So.." He cut himself off, using his tongue to release a leaf that had clung to the back of his teeth. "You uh.." He downed half of his glass of water, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Are ya doin' okay, Kir? You seem a little distant."
   The 3rd Division nodded slowly. "Of course.. I'm fine."
   Leaning into the table, Hisagi lowered his eyes, venturing to win the sad gaze from the quiet man. "You sure?"
   Kira cleared his throat; he rid his mind of it's worries with a quick sip of the crisp, ice water, wiping condensation from his hands and onto his jeans. He eyed the other tables, appearing as if he had not been present for the entire conversation at hand. "I uhm.. It's my.. birthday.. today."
   Shoving half-eaten leaves to the back of his mouth, which he then opened, Hisagi's eyes frowned. "Wha-" He stretched across the table, smacking the younger on the shoulder. "Why didn't ya tell me, blondie?"
   Shrugging, Kira averted his eyes from his once-senpai. "I don't know.." He picked at his plate, distracting himself from the question. "I guess.. It just doesn't really matter around here."
   The older swallowed uncomfortably, setting down his fork and once more meeting the pitiful expression across from him. "Hey.." His fingers touched the top of Kira's hand nervously, and he bit his lip. "Do.. Do you want to get outta here?"
   The blonde hardly had to nod.

   Hisagi watched as his ally walked silently, slightly straying behind to keep an eye on the 3rd Division Lieutenant. Though he followed steadily, his breathing normal, his thumbs looped through the hoops on his jeans, his brain was scattering, frantically searching for the correct thing to say to relieve Kira from his sorry state; fortunately, the calm voice interrupted his chaotic pondering.
   "I.. I apologize.. for ruining our dinner."
   Hisagi seemed aware that the other man was going to continue, and kept quiet.
   "It's a constant reminder.. Isn't it?" Kira turned to see his comrade and slowed his motion, allowing Hisagi to catch up before he went on. ".. of what we used to be." He pouted somewhat and looked at his feet, feeling the concerned stare beside him. "The last time I celebrated my birthday was.. before.. all of this. And now, it just.. It doesn't matter who we are."
   Softening, the older man abruptly terminated his walk, the phrase consuming his mind. He looked up to see that the 3rd Division was now coming back for him. "I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?"
   Hisagi met the intense blue eyes; he gripped Kira's arm, his head slowly shaking as his frown deepened. "Kir.." The younger now appeared tense at the decreasing distance between them. His eyes flickered to the surrounding area before falling once again on the scarred face. Hisagi let his free hand rest on his ally's neck, lightly- almost unnoticeably- thumbing the smooth, pale skin there. He spoke Kira's name, this time his whisper splaying across the blonde's pout. "I.." He swallowed his thoughts, lingering at the insignificant gap that separated them. "I'm sorry.. that you.." He could feel Kira's lips against his own, hardly evident, yet undeniably happening. It felt there was an immense amount of time before the kiss truly occurred; Kira's mouth was soft and hot, his perfect tongue moving against Hisagi's as if they had known forever the territory that they now explored. The older Lieutenant grunted, coiling his brutal fingers and amplifying their fervent embrace; his stomach fluttered with the gentle sigh released by the blonde Vice Captain; it freed him, even if only briefly.
   Rather unwillingly, the 9th Division peeled his lips from the faultless touch, lowering his hand and liberating the thin wrist from his grasp. The endless sapphire eyes swallowed him as they opened, speaking their gratitude with the mere glance. Hisagi smirked. "Happy Birthday, Kir."

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Initiation.

2008-02-17T06:40:18Z

Title: Initiation.
Character: Abarai Renji.
Pairing: Abarai Renji x Madarame Ikkaku.
Author: Barukode.
Rating: PG-13.
Prompt: Number 007: Disoriented (10_whores); Number 020: Writer's Choice: Inauguration(50scenes).
Warnings: Language, Renji Angst, and Boy Kisses.
Summary: The boys celebrate Renji's addition to the 11th Division, and end up celebrating more than originally planned.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamster.

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    He scarcely stepped over the passed out blonde to take a seat on the couch. He pressed the bottle to his lips once more. It was a shame, he thought, that the amounts of alcohol he had consumed were still not enough to overpower the loud grunts from the other room. He recognized them as Hisagi's and, by the lack of echoing pleasure, could only assume that the pretty boy had his mouth full. His drunken mind hoped that the bald Shinigami wasn't able to hear Hisagi's pounding fists on the wall from where he stood in the kitchen. Downing another decent sip, he leaned back against the couch.
    It was unfortunate that such a memorable night would be forever in his mind as it was now happening, but there was no rationalizing with his trashed brain over what to think. Despite the fact that he was being celebrated, the only thing his head filled with was how he had arrived at this point, which, he assumed, shouldn't make a difference anymore; but the unraveling threads of his memories were not allowing him to forget exactly where he came from. And it only added to his now-throbbing head. He took another chug.
    "You're a God, Yume.."
    It was miraculous to him that he could still make out the words, especially after already being muffled by the thin wall. His head fogged as he continued to drink himself into numbness.
    "Oi, he still out?"
    Looking up at the noise, Renji made some motion of a nod.
    "Silly Kira.." Ikkaku smirked, stumbling to the couch where he collapsed beside his ally. He handed the redhead another bottle, keeping one for himself, which he hastily popped open. "Heh.. S'yer in the 'leventh division now." Smacking an unconsciously firm hand to the younger man's shoulder, he grinned. "'owsit feel?"
    Renji shrugged unnoticeably. "Ionknow.'
    "C'mon!" Shoving him, Ikkaku grunted. "Aren'chya happy?"
    The new officer said nothing, merely looking ahead and after a moment emptying his bottle, before picking up another. When the 3rd Seat's hand stopped him, Renji crinkled his eyebrows. "'the fuck?"
    "Wassup with you?" The red streaked eyes held their intense stare despite how intoxicated the man was.
    Discarding the question, Renji forcefully stole the liquor to himself, breaking his gaze from the other and uncorking his most recent distraction.
    "Oi." Ikkaku sat up, scanning his ally's face for some kind of clue as to what he was feeling. "Wha's goin' on?"
    "'s'nothin'." The redhead waved off; as his once-superior inched closer, he jolted. "Back off! I'm'fine." Ikkaku ground his teeth, his glare shifting back and forth between the desolate red eyes; he didn't have to say anything. Renji wished to himself that his shaggy haired partner would moan once more to sidetrack the intrigued Shinigami, who was now practically on top of him. When the silence drawled on, he chewed on his lip. "Jus ain' use' to it yet."
    Ikkaku raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet, waiting on what else was about to be said.
    "Only thing've ever been told is'at I'm a waste." He poured out, his head slowly lowering to keep from meeting once again with the intimidating gaze. "Jus' not use' to it."
    "But 's'good, ne?" The older asked, striving to raise the other man's hopes.
    Turning to face him, Renji held on tightly to the burning leer. "I know." He set down his bottle, and rubbed the back of his head. "And I thought'd finally be free of it." Letting his arm flop back beside him, he let out a sharp breath. "Guess I can't escape." His head fell back, eyes flickering shut, attempting to melt into the seemingly-endless cushions beneath him.
    "'ey."
    "Mm?"
    "C'mon, you and I both know you ain' a waste."
    Renji eyed him now, raising an eyebrow at the fact that Ikkaku was setting his bottle down to focus solely on the issue at hand. "Ikk-"
    "Ya just got into tha division." The older interrupted. "Don' start off onna bad note."
    Frowning somewhat, the redhead tore his eyes away once more. "I know.. I didn' mean ta bring down the.. celebrations." His gaze traced Kira's body limply laying on the floor, and he nudged the blonde with his foot, diverting his attention in hopes of doing the same for the other man.
    "Renj-"
    "'s'fine, 'kkaku. It'll wear off 'ventually." Adjusting himself on the couch, he startled at the closeness of his ally. "Wha-"
    Ikkaku pushed into the younger Shinigami, his lips crushing desperately to the pouting mouth; Renji did not disapprove, shuddering slightly as the hot contact against him grunted into their embrace. The 3rd Seat pulled away briefly, listening to his comrade's panting, and smirked. "Ya need an escape?" Gripping the tattooed neck in his calloused hands, he breathed heavily. "Use me ta get away."
    The sensation of the rapid rise and fall of Ikkaku's chest opposing his own sped up the redhead's already-dense huffs. He willingly allowed himself to be overtaken another time by the forceful fingers. They were the same that had been used to coach him; he had regarded these hands countless times, surveying as they wrapped strictly around the hilt of his katana, studied their power each instance that they swiftly shattered an enemy. And now here they were, coiled on the inked skin of his neck, abusing their authority to maintain the searing touch.
    Feeling Ikkaku tempt him by opening his mouth, Renji gave in, forcing his weight into the kiss, venturing to take control. He grabbed firmly the thickness of his ally's neck, drawing the bald man closer and amplifying their connection. It seemed that as soon as he began pushing back against the 3rd Seat, Ikkaku was distancing himself, though still allowing his mouth to continue it's violation, hoping that his backing up would lure the redhead to follow him. Renji was torn; he never enabled himself to be dominated by anyone else, and yet had no intention of breaking the deep, fervent kiss that he was absorbed in. The rigid fingernails mercilessly gripping against his neck made the decision for him. He surrendered to the other man's seduction and rose from the couch, stumbling slightly against Ikkaku's shared drunkenness.
    "Mmm, 'kkaku." Renji slurred into their embrace, following the lead of the 3rd Seat's unconscious meandering. The stiff fingers knotted through the long, crimson strands, indifferent as to whether or not they tugged at the younger man roughly. Renji felt his back hit the wall and grunted. "Mmf.. Wait." His own hand was only intent on the feel of Ikkaku's chest under it, despite it's placement to keep said muscles at a distance.
    "Mm?" The older hardly paid attention, breaking their contact and muting his groan against the tattooed neck. His slightly swollen lips traced the thick black ink sloppily, burning the potent sake on his breath into the heated skin. Renji's jaw unhinged somewhat, and as difficult as it was to maintain his battle for dominance, he forced back into the 3rd Seat, distancing them both from the wall, and steadily walking them closer to the other room. Fingers curling across the other's throat, he harshly retrieved Ikkaku's bottom lip in his teeth, biting sharply enough to coax a rich moan that vibrated against his calloused thumbs. When he once more began walking, his mouth was conquered.
    Ikkaku allowed the backing up, one of his large, rough hands gliding along the wall, following their tread, the other threaded aggressively into the crimson locks. He felt as the redhead grated his hips, and thickened their wet, lazy kiss. Renji's breathing intensified; he still tried to drive himself deeper into the embrace, only surrendering when he lost the touch, panting now as the arousing tongue slipped fluently down his neck once more. Ikkaku grunted against smooth flesh, smirking up at the younger man's obvious disappointment in how easily he was being commanded.
    Renji started to return the expression- his own mind racing with ideas to regain power- stopping to grind his teeth at the sensually lackadaisical nips along his collar bone. His intoxicated brain was provided with no time to think on it's feet, the heavy weight against him pinning him to the wall.
    Running his tongue out idly and wetting his lips, Ikkaku appeared smug. "Welcome to the 'leventh division."

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Happy Valentine's Day.

2008-02-14T06:33:19Z

Title: Valentine.
Author: barukode.
For: arrankaara for the shuukira Secret Valentine's Day Exchange ^^
Prompt: Asking Izuru out for a Date.
Character(s): Shuuhei Hisagi x Kira Izuru, Renji Abarai, Ikkaku Madarame, Yumichika Ayasegawa, and Tetsuzaemon Iba.

Rating: PG-13.

Summary: Hisagi has issues with admitting how he feels about Kira.
Warning: Language and Boy Kisses.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamster.

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   ".. What?"
   Hisagi let out a sharp breath and leaned on a hip. "Please, Renj.. Just.. I just.. need some kind of practice."
   Grunting disapprovingly, the redhead stood, lazily stalking to where his ex-senpai was. "Aaaalright. Go 'head."
   "O-Okay." The oldest listened as Iba cleared his throat, and anxiously flexed his calloused fingers; he breathed deeply before meeting Renji's gaze. "K-Kira.. I uhm.. You don't have to say yes, bu-"
   "Don't give 'im options." The 7th Division Lieutenant interrupted. He reached into his robes, swiftly lighting up and taking a smooth puff. "An' relax a bit."
   Hisagi let his shoulders loosen and nodded- more for his own sake. "Okay.."
   "Ready?" Renji folded his arms across his chest, looking impatient as his ally began again.
   "Hey, Kira.." He started, awkwardly. "I was just wond'ring if you want to maybe.. go out sometime?"
   "Tha's good, good- Ow.. Fuck, Yume!" Ikkaku turned to scowl, and felt another punch to his shoulder.
   "Shh, Ikka."
   Fidgeting with his hands, Hisagi awaited an answer. The other man's grudging expression slowly curled to a smirk, before flipping completely to a depressing frown. "Shuu.. I-I'm.. I'm touched. An' then go back to yer place so you can fuck my brains out?"
   "Renji.."
   "C'mon, Renj!"
   The youngest waved off their scoffs, and grinned. "Yeah, yer right.. Kir'd probably start crying before ya got to anythin' int'resting.."
   Hisagi put his head in his hands. "This is stupid.."
   "Stop that. Here.." Yumichika hopped from the edge of the table and fluttered to where the discouraged Vice Captain pouted. "Move." He unconsciously shoved the redhead to the side, taking his place. "Okay.. Try it again."
   The shaggy haired Shinigami looked at his feet. "There's no point; this isn't going to w-" He stopped suddenly, a loud crack to his jaw effacing any sign of his voice in the air. Groaning, he held his cheek, doubling over due to the surprise attack. "Goddamnit, Yume!"
   The 5th Seat did not appear phased, resting his strong hand on his lean hips. "Try it again." His tone had all too rapidly become considerably irritated, and the otherwise-stunned silence was invaded by the other three chuckling.
   Standing upright once more, Hisagi shook out his fingers, glaring somewhat at the practice love interest. "Kira." He had adopted a rather bitchy tone. "Hit me again an' I'll rip those fucking feathers right off yer face!"
   Yumichika bit his lip. "Uhm.. I don't think that'll work.."

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   Hisagi allotted his feet the privilege of their stroll, as he paid less attention to where exactly they were taking him, and more on the fact that his brain had been at a constant high, never letting him dismiss the thoughts that he would prefer not to ponder from intruding into his mind. His independent limbs turned a corner, and he pouted. He never cared much for Valentine's day; not only because was generally alone on it, but also due to the fact that that he was easily angered by how many people were not. It didn't aid said truths to also know that the 9th Division was rather against love in the first place. He had been abandoned too many times to believe that such strong emotions could exist.
   His head took a moment from it's musing when he realized that his walking had stopped. He, unfortunately, knew precisely where he had ended up, and, despite having nothing to say, knocked on the door. His breath almost instantaneously picked up. He contemplated the idea of leaving before his actions caught up with him, but he was anchored to the ground, somehow unable to move forward or backwards regardless of how critically he would have liked to. Before he could fathom another option, the familiar sound interrupted him, and the door slid open.
   "Shuu.. Come in." Kira stepped out of the way, and eyed his comrade anxiously. "What's going on?"
   Hisagi turned to face the blonde, and let out a sharp breath. "I have to talk to you." He regretted speaking the moment that the words left his lips. Kira seemed concerned now, and after a moment of not hearing anything, opened his mouth to speak. "Don't." The dark haired Shinigami cut him off. "I.. I don't know how to say this.."
   "Are you okay, Shuu?" The shorter moved closer, scanning the nervous face for signs of clarity. "Is something going on?"
   "No, Kir.. I just.." Biting his lip, he looked at his feet. "I.. Will you.." He shook his head at how incoherent he sounded, and let his eyes drift up the younger man's body, hovering along the perfectly fitted jeans that only accented his lean yet rigid frame, longingly taking in how tightly the t-shirt hugged to his broad shoulders and muscled chest. When he met Kira's gaze, he had lost it. Catching him off guard, he pinned the 3rd Division against the door, supporting an arm on the wall beside the now-shocked expression.
   "S-Shuu-"
   "Kir, please." Leaning over the other Shinigami, his other hand ghosted over the smooth jaw, his eyes trailing down the milky skin, and stopping only at the pale pink lips. Narrowing the distance between them, Hisagi breathed against the perfect mouth. "Kira.."
   The blonde felt as his gasp caught in his throat; he effortlessly submitted to the sensual touch, tilting his head and feeling his nose skim against his once-superior's. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, wanting beyond anything else to secure the infinitesimal space that separated them, yet holding back.
   The shaggy haired Lieutenant smirked, inching himself as close as he could be without contact. With his own vision steadily diminishing, he lowered his voice, practically whispering now. "I-Is.. this okay?"
   Kira only hummed his approval and melted into the touch. Their lips brushed, lingering for a moment before closing around each other. The kiss was unhurried, both Vice Captains aching for more of each other, but hesitating against the smooth warmth that vibrated amidst them. Ending the embrace, the older broke the kiss, holding himself where he was so as to not lose the connection with his ally. When the blonde moved into him once more, Hisagi deleted any bit of space still keeping them apart, his mouth meeting the other's more severely as Kira worked his tongue along his partner's lips. The 9th Division grunted into the wet kiss, hard fingers tugging at the blonde hair in attempts to force himself deeper into their touch. He breathed heavily, pressing one more tender kiss to his ally. "Mm.. Go out with me tonight, Kir."
   Lips curling to a smirk, Kira chuckled quietly and threaded his own abused hands through the dark spikes. He pushed back against the older man, compelling them both to remove from the wall, and backing Hisagi up steadily. He brushed his lips along the corners of the other's mouth, luring a lusty moan from the older man, and causing himself to grin with satisfaction. Their embrace began again gently, and Kira purred into his ally's willing mouth. "How's.. about.. mm.. we stay in?"

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Fiction.

2008-01-27T04:59:37Z

I am aware that I promised a lot of you some wallsehks, and I know that my last piece didn't have it, but unfortunately, I am absolutely miserable today, and all I can put into words is angst. This does follow the little miniseries whatever from before, though it isn't one of my 50 Scenes. I will make wallsehks up to you all at some point soon; I just cannot wrap my head around much today. Apologies.

Title: Fiction.
Author: Barukode.
Characters: Shuuhei Hisagi, Yumichika Ayasegawa, Ikkaku Madarame.
Word Count: 642
Rating: PG-13.

Summary: Hisagi discovers that the things he expected his life to be, were not at all what they seemed. Follows 'If', 'Defeat', and 'Confession'.

Warning: Angst, Hisagi Pity, Language.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't get paid. I go to classes and feed my hamster.

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    I feel like a kid going to a candy store, as cliche as it is. No one else has ever made me so anxious. Never have my past girlfriends stirred up such anticipation just to see them. But Yumi.. I can feel the back of my neck prickle from the mere thought of him. It's like I'm a girl. Who else would become so enthralled with their relationship? It's definitely foreign to me. Each pace closer to his room compels my body to tense up. I am thrown as to what kind of hold he has on me, but I can't fight it; it only strengthens with the decreasing distance between us.
    I am almost panicking as I open his door, though I am unconscious as to why. He and I are comfortable with each other by now. Comfortable. I smirk to myself, my mind rapidly flooding with just how 'comfortable' we are. It would be a lie if I said that sex with him was merely that; as passionate as it can be, there is more to watching his back arch into me than the image. There is something about him that frees me, something only he posses that allows me to lose myself in how much he indulges. For so long, I have been alone, and knowing that he will open himself to me is one of the few things reminding my hopeless brain that I have a purpose here.
    I walk deeper into the room, turning at the footsteps that grow steadily louder until he is in sight. I smile, only briefly, his disquieted expression revealing to me more than his swollen lips or his ruffled clothes ever could. I open my mouth, despite the fact that I have nothing to say. If it is even possible, my throat closes further as Ikkaku walks in. Neither of them speak; Ikkaku looks at the floor, Yumichika holds my gaze. I know before anything is said.
    "Shuu, I didn't know you were coming over."
    His voice slices through the intense silence, and I almost don't hear it over the screaming in my head. Ikkaku runs his fingers along the corners of his mouth and forces what I assume is supposed to be a casual grin. I want to kill him.
    "Do you want anything?"
    My voice is lost in the pit of my stomach. I'm not even mindful of whether or not I am still breathing.
    "Shuu..?"
    "You.. cheated on me?"
    His eyes flicker away from me almost unnoticeably, before they are burning through me once more. "I don't know what to say. Shuuhei.. I am.. so sorry."
    The fact that he doesn't deny it rips at me; I wanted him to be honest with me, but now.. Goddamnit. I feel myself pout, and can see it reflect on his face. What am I supposed to say to that? How am I supposed to walk out of this? If the blood in my veins was running, I would blush from embarrassment, but I can't even confirm that my heart is still beating. I have to assume that I am conscious by the fact that I am walking out. I didn't tell myself to, but there is no chance in Hell that I'm going to stop. I am torn when he doesn't follow me.
    I don't pay the least bit of attention to where I am going: nothing around me matters.
    This is why I am alone. I hate myself for putting such high amounts of trust into anyone else. I should have known better; betrayal never ceases to find me, to claw me to shreds. How foolish I feel for allowing myself to sink so deep! Fuck. What I promised myself was fiction. I was never strong. I have been nothing but the helpless outsider that I never wanted to be.

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