Welcome to the Street of Lights

D.Gray-Man Icon and Base Dump

Sun, 06 Jul 2008 09:19:18 GMT

Haha, this is all going here because I don't feel like sticking it on my normal journal >_>

Designed Icons

PLEASE credit me if used!
PLEASE save and upload on your own server!
Comments are much appreciated, but not necessary.

Due Credits:
10 - Lyrics are "The Crippled Lion" by Michael Nesmith (inspired by the fic "Angelus" by SirBartonsLady)
11 - Lyrics are "Smash" by The Rasmus
13 - Inspired by "Neon" by John Mayer
12+14+15 - Lyrics are "The Kids Can Eat a Bag of Dicks" by A Wilhelm Scream

Icon Bases
The links will take you to the Photobucket folder
Allen Bases
Allen/Lavi Bases
Jasdebi (and Jasdero and Debitto) Bases
Kanda Bases
Krory Bases
Lavi Bases (warning: 300+ images YES I'M INSANE)
Tyki Icons
Omake Bases (plus some from merchandise; 200+ images)
Misc Single Bases (bases with a single character; Lenalee, Bak, Relo)
Misc Party Bases (bases with two or more characters that didn't pop up often enough for me to give them their own folder; Allen/Kanda, Lavi/Lenalee, Krory/Lavi, etc...)

Credit is appreciated, but only necessary if you use the unedited base.
PLEASE save and upload to your own server!
Comments are appreciated, but not necessary.
Links to edited icons would be much appreciated!

Yeah, I took way too many for me to bother gridding them up here, and they're all sorely out of order in the albums. Hell, even on my computer they're out of order. 99% of them are from the Noah's Ark arc. The rest are from a handful of other episodes...

D.Gray-Man: Death of Passivity

Sat, 28 Jun 2008 20:36:16 GMT

Title: Death of Passivity
Author: cykotyks
Pairing: Lavi/Allen [kinda]
Rating: PG
Genre: General/Drabble

Summary: Lavi's point of view when Allen saved him from himself.
Spoilers: Refers to chapter 122 specifically [episode 88-89 (thank you, clinicly8insane!)]
Warning: Just some slight foul language.

Disclaimer: D.Gray-Man belongs to Hoshino Katsura.
Words: 378

Notes:I'M WORKING ON THE BLEACH REQUESTS, I SWEAR TO YOU.
This just came to me as I'm sitting here at work and I decided to write it up. Un-beta'd and hot off the press, as I'm still at work xD BTW: I have an unhealthy obsession with Lavi ._.
Also: "Snogging" means "kissing" in British slang. I'm not British, but one of my friends is and her boyfriend's just an Anglophile. Their use of it has grown on me xD

Death of Passivity

What had he done? He’d lost himself and attacked his friends—no, his family. He deserved to die, tried to die, even. He was worthless and shamed in more ways than one. Once as a bookman, twice as an exorcist.

But a warmth engulfed him that had nothing to do with the flames. A warmth and a darkness. It wasn’t death, even if it was a little white devil with his arms around him. Damn him. The antithesis of the Grim Reaper, wasn’t he?

“Lavi, please…”

Allen’s voice cut through everything, including his heart. It was a genuine plea, one he’d probably never hear again, and one he shouldn’t have had to hear at all, not if he was a true bookman.

Panda-jijii’s gonna kill me for this…

Lavi let go of his Innocence and slumped into Allen’s arms. Everything hurt, but the hardest thing to do was breathe. Allen’s cocoon was small and air-tight, and the heat of the flames had scorched his throat and lungs raw.

“Lavi…” The boy sounded relieved, pained, and close to tears.

“I can’t breathe,” Lavi managed, hardly above a whisper. “And Lenalee…” He could just barely hear her, and he couldn’t make out what she was screaming, but it had to be one or both of their names. But talking had tickled his throat, and he went into a coughing fit. Allen’s embrace tightened around him, his thumb rubbing his back between his shoulder blades in a comforting gesture.

Road would be jealous…

Lavi found himself amused in spite of himself, but he couldn’t laugh even if he wanted to. His chest was constricting and it was all he could do to keep his breathing low and even in hot confines. “Allen…”

“I’m trying – your stupid hi-ban solidified,” Allen grumbled, his voice low and strained.

Finally something cracked. Light and cool air hit them, and they gasped for it like dying men before collapsing in the midst of their complaints.

Once he could breathe evenly again, Lavi smirked to himself. He couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse that the others were there – they were really the only thing keeping him from grabbing the white-haired boy and snogging him breathless.

Yeah, Panda-jijii’s gonna be way pissed with me…

Public Notice and Challenge Request

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 19:45:34 GMT

I've been away from this for how long now? Jesus Christ...

Anyway, point is: my apologies to everybody/anybody who happens to be still watching me and wanting me to update some of my bigger fics, or at least write more. I could give you a variety of excuses, citing a rather confusing and turbulent time these past few months, but it all boils down to, one, I've hit a block/rut/whathaveyou, and two, I need to renew my interest in the fandom.

So! As I try and catch up with the manga from where I stopped reading, I have a request to anybody who feels like taking it:

Give me a pairing - any pairing (yaoi, het, yuri - my preference generally being in that order), a prompt (anything from as simple as a word, to as detailed as ratings and kinks and plots and whatnot), and a deadline (optional - mainly as a reason for me to tell myself "I NEED TO GET THIS DONE, DAMMIT"). I don't care what it is, just give me something. Anything. I know I'm a Ren/Ichi writer, but I'd prefer to stear clear of them for now (too much of a good thing, yeah?). Also, I'll write anything from: Bleach, Boondock Saints, Kyou Kara Maou, Doctor Who, and Torchwood.

I swear to god, request anything. If you want your request screened, post anonymously (you can opt to put your name in the comment, so I know who to dedicate it to).

I kinda need this to get me writing again, so hopefully I can get my skills working again to finish the fics I started! Hopefully.

Anywho, ta-ta for now~!

ENGL M10B // Original Fiction: "Mister Saxon"

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 00:03:24 GMT

Title: Mister Saxon
Author: Cy (cykotyks)
Category: Original Fiction
Rating: PG-15 (some foul language)
Genre: Fiction
Length: ~1,700 words

Disclaimer: This work is my own. Please do not steal.
Notes: ConCrit welcome!

Mister Saxon

Jack only smoked when he was stressed or anxious, and only when he had nothing else to occupy his mouth with. It was an oral fixation, not an addiction. Jack didn’t get addicted. He was too apathetic to pursue an addiction – that’s what Cyrus said, anyway.

But Cyrus was borderline obsessive, ADHD, and completely mental. In Jack’s opinion, anyway. Then again, Jack considered most people mental in some way or another. But Cyrus was a special case of mental, especially now.

Mister Saxon poked his pink nose at the bars of the cage, still a little groggy from his nap. He blinked at Jack, making the man’s cigarette-adorned scowl deepen.

“Goddamn rat…” Jack muttered.

Mister Saxon yawned wide in response.

Cyrus, of course, was the reason for Mister Saxon. The ditzy blonde had found the bandit-masked animal out in the cold as he was walking home from work and, due to an insufferable condition known as a bleeding heart, took the tiny beast home. It was all Jack could do to keep the younger man from rushing out to the pet store right then and buying a special cage and food and litter and whatnot. However, he couldn’t keep Cyrus from naming him. That damage had been done before Cyrus had even reached the apartment.

At this point, Cyrus was out putting up flyers announcing the rescue of the tiny critter and that it would really appreciate its mommy or daddy calling this number and coming to take it home. This, of course, left Jack alone with the thing.

Curiosity stirred in the man, and he placed a finger between the bars. Mister Saxon poked his cold nose against the digit several times, licked at it, and, without hesitation, clamped his sharp teeth down onto it.

“Fuck—!” Jack cursed loudly and jerked his hand back, reclaiming his abused finger. There were no marks, nothing. A “love bite,” Cyrus would’ve called it. Jack snorted. No wonder his boyfriend held such affection for the slinky demons. Not that he could argue against it, of course, but that didn’t mean he had to like them. After all, he wasn’t the masochistic one.

Jack got to his feet, ran a hand through his hair – long since pulled from its gelled decency – and glowered down at the brown and white ferret, which was currently attempting to scale the sides of the old hamster cage. Cyrus wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but Mister Saxon wasn’t theirs, and Jack wasn’t about to let his partner blow $300 on comfortable housing for the temporary pest-guest. Mister Saxon would have to deal with the dusty cage and old litter left over from Houdini’s short sojourn (which had ended when the tiny cage-escaper found the underside of the refrigerator). How would he ever survive?

Well, better than he would out on the street, Jack reasoned, and had reasoned with Cyrus. So Mister Saxon stayed in the small cage, and seemed quite content there.

+++++ ++++++ ++++++ ++++++

Cyrus came home sometime around midnight, where Jack was still up watching TV.

“It’s bloody freezing out there,” Cyrus muttered once he’d pulled his scarf away from his mouth. “How’s Mister Saxon doing?”

“Sleeping. After trying to burrow into plastic,” Jack answered. “You get all the flyers up?”

“Mostly,” the blonde sighed, shucking the pack that held the remaining flyers, packing tape, and a stapler. “The wind started picking up and my fingers went too numb to do much anything useful with. But,” he continued, as he knelt in front of the cage, “he couldn’t have come from very far away. He’d look a fair bit more haggard than he does.”

“Well then hopefully somebody calls soon. I’m already sick of the rat.”

Cyrus had cage door open and his hand inside, petting the ball of fur nestled into one corner. “First of all, he’s not a rat. He’s not even related to rats—”

“No, he’s related to weasels and skunks and polecats, which is so much better,” Jack said sarcastically.

“And otters – he’s related to otters.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing bad to say about otters.”

“There’s nothing bad about ferrets, either, and— were you smoking?” Cyrus regarded him critically with a brown eye from over his shoulder.

“You stress me out,” Jack replied, sounding bored, meeting brown eye with brown. They weren’t the same brown, of course. Cyrus’ brown was a warm rosewood, a color that fluctuated with his moods – when his adrenaline ran, the redness in the brown came out. It was a color Jack loved, and thus loved getting his lover riled up. But Jack’s brown was darker, colder – Cyrus had once remarked that they reminded him of dark chocolate. He supposed it was the best description.

“Well find another de-stressor – the smoke’s bad for Mister Saxon,” Cyrus said as-a-matter-of-factly, turning back to the cage.

Jack’s brows furrowed slightly. He got up and rummaged around the kitchen for a bit before he finally said, “I’m going to bed.” He paused, watching Cyrus watch Mister Saxon. “You coming?”

Cyrus didn’t respond immediately. Instead he slowly tore his attention away from the ferret, who was playing with the man’s fingers, and looked at Jack as if hearing him for the first time. “Hm? Oh—yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

+++++ ++++++ ++++++ ++++++

It had been a week now. After the first day of no calls, Cyrus had picked up some ferret food, a litter pan, and litter. The loose food bowl was flipped after Mister Saxon decided it wasn’t to his tastes, and the litter pan was flipped a short time later. When he did get around to eating the food, it upset his stomach. The resulting smell wasn’t particularly agreeable.

After three days and still no calls pertaining to Mister Saxon, Cyrus had put out more flyers, convinced that Mister Saxon’s actual owner was just not seeing them. Jack was convinced that Mister Saxon’s actual owner was relieved to get rid of the pest.

“You just don’t understand him,” Cyrus was saying as he dangled a shoelace above Mister Saxon. The ferret happily obliged in the game by jumping up for it and grabbing it with teeth and claws and rolling around and around, trying to free it from Cyrus’ grasp.

“He bites, and he smells, and he’s a picky little bitch,” Jack grumbled, paying more attention to the latest episode of Torchwood.

Cyrus eyed him, letting Mister Saxon steal the shoelace. “You bite, too.”

“You actually like it.”

“And you can be picky.”

“Yes, but I don’t go and shit in a corner just because my toilet is unsatisfactory.”

Cyrus opened his mouth to say something else.

“And if you say I smell, you’re quite welcome to sleep on the couch and keep Mister Saxon company.”

+++++ ++++++ ++++++ ++++++

Jack lay sprawled on the couch, only dozing due to Mister Saxon’s occasional attack on the cage bars. It had been nine days now since the ferret had been picked up and still nobody had called to claim him. Over the days, Cyrus had picked up treats and toys and a few other things for Mister Saxon, and Jack was considering making the owner pay for all of it once he finally ’fessed up to losing the damned rat.

He was startled by the polyphonic ringtone and quickly dug the offensive phone from his pocket.

“What?” he answered.

“Why can’t you just answer ‘hello’ like everybody else?” Cyrus responded from the other end, trying to sound huffy and failing.

“Because you change my ringtones. Really – ‘Mama Mia’?”

“You like it. Anyway – still no call?”

“Nope. Can we just sell him? I saw them going for like $200 on Craigslist.”

“Jack! You’re heartless!”

“He keeps biting me! I was trying to play nice with him like you said to, and he just turns around and bites me!”

Cyrus stifled a chuckle. “That’s just his way of saying he likes you.”

“Yeah, well, he could tell it to somebody else…”

“We’re not selling him.”

Jack made an audible disgruntled noise. “Anyway, why the call?”

“Oh – I just wanted to see if you wanted me to pick anything up for dinner.”

“Nothing in particular, no.”

“Nothing you’re craving or anything?”

“Well, I was wondering what ferret tasted like…” he mused.

“Jack!”

“Sushi. Surprise me.”

“Aye-aye, captain. See ya at home.”

“Don’t get ran over,” Jack said lazily, ending the call.

Mister Saxon started shaking the bars of the cage again, and Jack had to resist chucking his phone at him.

+++++ ++++++ ++++++ ++++++

Exactly fourteen days since the pseudo-adoption of Mister Saxon, Jack was once again disturbed by an unknown caller.

“Hello?” he answered.

“H-hi, I, um, got your number from the, ah, the flyers about a ferret that you found?”

“Yeah?” Jack wasn’t about to be accommodating. He’d already gone through several false alarms and prank calls.

“H-he’s male, about a year old, has a bandit-mask?”

“He yours?”

“Y-yes. I-I’ve been out of town, you see, and he must have gotten loose after I left. Lucy was supposed to be watching them, but she’s never cared too much for them – I have several ferrets, you see…”

Jack asked a few more questions, making sure Mister Saxon really did belong to this loser, before he gave him his address.

After the phone call, Jack went to Mister Saxon’s cage and knocked against it, waking the ferret up.

“Looks like you finally get to go home, fuzz-butt.”

Mister Saxon blinked up at him, glanced around his cage a bit, and then sprawled himself flat on the cage floor.

Jack snorted. “You’re an idiot.” He watched Mister Saxon for a bit longer before he got to his feet and grabbed his phone and keys.

+++++ ++++++ ++++++ ++++++

Seth – Mister Saxon’s owner – came by a few hours later.

“I-I’m sorry it took me so long to get down here,” he stuttered.

“It’s fine,” Jack said with a shrug. Cyrus wasn’t due back for another hour. “Follow me,” he said, cocking his head as he turned back inside.

“I’m so grateful that somebody found him and took care of him – I hope he wasn’t much trouble for you,” Seth blabbered, following Jack.

“Nah.” Jack took a deep breath, stopped, and faced Seth, one hand resting on the wallet in his back pocket. Now or never.

++++++ ++++++ ++++++ ++++++

Cyrus scrambled for his ringing cellphone and hastily answered it. “Hello?” he asked, even though he knew the caller.

“Hey. Wanna meet me at the pet store after work?”

“Pet store? Why?”

“Need you to help me pick out a ferret cage. Mister Saxon can’t live in that crappy hamster cage forever.”

This was presented in my class and read anonymously, and the feedback I got was excellent. I tend to be very skeptical when I don't get any criticism, but I got some different perspectives off of this, which I'm very happy about. The people in the class are very candid about what they like and didn't like about the writing (nothing of which I'd change with this story, but it does make me aware of it).

Also, my teacher talked to me today about it and suggested I submit it to the Moorpark Review (which is this collection of student work published for the college). He also said it was his favorite story so far, which is totally awesome (oh yeah, I'm totally bragging <3).

So, yeah, concrit totally welcome, as are any opinions and perspectives.

Bleach [Fic Request]: This is Why

Mon, 31 Dec 2007 07:11:23 GMT

Title: This is Why
Author: cykotyks
Requested by: ratherbe4gotten/Jo
Characters: Shuuhei/Renji
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: Bondage, sensory deprivation, light d/s
Summary: Renji knows the real reason Shuuhei shouldn't be allowed to be in the real world.

This is Why

Renji knew exactly why Shuuhei was rarely ever allowed into the real world. The power restraint, the gigai – it drove the tense lieutenant to the edge of madness. It was a fun trait to exploit when they were fucking, but the resulting behavior in the real world wasn’t exactly becoming of an acting captain. And precisely because he was such a high-strung, borderline obsessive compulsive acting captain, he was the very last choice to elect for a real world patrol (behind Komamura, whose appearance was the least of the problems – he was driven just as mad from the restraints as Shuuhei).

But the problems in Karakura were stretching Soul Society thin, and it came down to needing Shuuhei’s analytical skills in the real world. Renji had to come along, too, of course, because it was all too well known that he was the only one who could and would gladly keep an eye on the dark-haired man.

Renji wasn’t all that surprised to find himself slammed against a backstage wall of the club, with black painted fingernails digging into his arms and familiar lips crushed against his, teeth nipping at his lip.

“Shuu—Shuuhei,” Renji panted.

“Shut up,” Shuuhei barked, grinding their hips together none too gently, making the redhead hiss in pleasure. He grabbed at the redhead’s shirt, pulling it off, before he forced the bigger man to turn and slammed him face first into the wall again. He undid his belt, grabbed Renji’s wrists, and strapped his arms together. Then he undid his own collar and pulled it around Renji’s neck, and finally unclipped the chain from his wallet and clipped one end to the belt and the other to the D-ring on the collar.

“Fuck,” Renji gasped. “Yer doin’ this here?”

“What better rush is there,” Shuuhei grinned, breathing in Renji’s ear, “than knowing you could be caught? That you’re being watched?” He nodded towards the security camera up on the opposite wall.

“You’ve really lost it this time,” Renji chuckled.

Shuuhei’s grin widened. “You like it.”

“Never said I didn’t,” Renji retorted, turning back around. The chain was just short enough to where he couldn’t relax his arms without choking himself.

“Safeword?”

“Oh for the love of—!” Renji rolled his eyes. “Penguin.”

“Good boy.” Shuuhei grabbed him and kissed him roughly again, grinding their hips together without mercy. His fingers tangled into the red locks, forcing the hair-tie loose. He pulled back without warning, leaving a trail of saliva between their bruised lips, and he tugged Renji’s bandana down, covering the redhead’s brown eyes.

Renji tensed automatically, waiting for his hearing to make out what Shuuhei was planning, but before he could, the shorter lieutenant hooked a finger in the middle O-ring at the front of the collar and tugged the redhead forward a few uncertain steps.

“On your knees,” Shuuhei breathed in Renji’s ear, making the redhead shudder.

He dropped compliantly, wincing as his knees smacked against the hard floor. “Gods—Shuuhei…!” he practically begged, trying to lean towards the warmth of the other man. He felt Shuuhei’s fingers against his lips, rough and sword-calloused. He took two of them in and twisted his tongue around them, coating them with his saliva.

As he worked, he felt and heard Shuuhei get to his knees as well. His ears picked up the sounds of a button unsnapping and a zipper being undone. Shuuhei forced Renji’s eager mouth open to free his fingers. Renji could sense Shuuhei moving in front of him, but he didn’t know what the man was doing until he heard him gasp with a shuddering breath.

“Fuck… Renji…” Shuuhei groaned, before grabbing a rough fistful of Renji’s hair at the back of his head and forcing their mouths together again in a lustful kiss. Renji responded eagerly, trying to take control.

“Wanna see…” he breathed against his lips, “wanna see… Yer fuckin’ yerself…”

“Don’t want you to come yet,” Shuuhei answered before letting out a gasping groan. “Fuck, Renji…”

The redhead growled and went for Shuuhei’s neck, clamping down hard when his teeth found purchase on skin. The elicited cry was almost enough for Renji to get off on, if it weren’t for Shuuhei pulling him back by the hair.

“Down. On your back,” Shuuhei ordered, his voice husky. Before Renji could comply, though, Shuuhei pushed him back. He removed his fingers from himself and undid Renji’s jeans, pulling them down enough to free the redhead’s weeping erection.

Renji gasped and bucked upwards when he felt the hot mouth slip over the head. Shuuhei’s hands braced against the eager hips, his fingernails digging into flesh as saliva slid down his dick, cooling quickly and making the redhead shudder. When Shuuhei let Renji’s dick go with an audible pop, Renji bucked up again, trying to get back to that wet heat.

“Be patient,” Shuuhei cooed, kissing and nipping up Renji’s torso as he moved forward.

“Fuck that,” Renji growled. “Lemme see…!”

Shuuhei chuckled. “And where’s the fun in that?” he teased, nipping lightly at Renji’s chin. He straightened himself up and reached behind, fingers deliberately ghosting over Renji’s erection. Renji gasped and arched his back, only to be pushed back down again by Shuuhei’s free hand.

“Stay still,” the older man ordered, shifting into position. “You ready?”

Renji bit his lip and shook his head once. He nearly bit clean through when he felt Shuuhei’s ass slip down over his cock, lubricated by the saliva.

“Stay still,” Shuuhei growled.

Renji groaned loudly, throwing his head back, trying his best to keep his hips from slamming upward into that tight heat. Shuuhei was halfway down when Renji finally snapped. “Fuck! Shuuhei—!” he cried, slamming full force upwards into the smaller man, making him cry out loudly.

“Fuck!” Shuuhei gasped, settling himself and Renji down. “Now I’m really not gonna let ya watch this!” he growled. Without waiting for Renji’s response, he took himself in his hand, stroking his erection with an uninhibited moan.

“Can I move?” Renji asked in a shuddering breath.

“Yeah,” Shuuhei breathed. “C’mon – make me come.”

Renji didn’t need any more coaxing. He thrust himself up into Shuuhei again as the settled into a rhythm.

Suddenly, Shuuhei stopped, stilling Renji’s hips. The redhead opened his mouth to ask if something was wrong, but before he could get the words out, a spray of hot cum shot across his stomach and chest and splattered onto his face, and that was enough to send him over the edge as he bucked upwards one last time, releasing his orgasm deep into his lover.

Shuuhei rocked against him slowly, milking the last of it as they came down from their high. He slipped himself from the redhead and reached up to tug the bandana from Renji’s eyes. “You can watch this,” he purred, kissing him chastely on the lips before he licked the flecks of white from his cheeks. He moved down again and ran his tongue up Renji’s torso, cleaning up the thick trail of cum.

Renji moaned and threw his head back. “Gods – yer gonna make me come again just lookin’ at ya.”

Shuuhei chuckled and kissed him again. “I wonder if we can get a copy of the security tapes…”

Renji couldn’t help but grin and chuckle. “This is why you’re not allowed in the real world…”

I hope you enjoy! And I'm super sorry I'm late!!! Forgive me? <3;;

Bleach: Christmas Fanart

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 00:31:40 GMT

Artist: Cykotyks
Pairing: 2 Renji/Ichigo
Rating: G

Disclaimer: Bleach is Kubo Tite's, the artwork is my own.

Just click the thumbnails to see the full versions.

Pencil: "Christmas Morning"

Back of a notecard

Colored: "Merry Christmas, From the Boys"

Colored with Prismacolor markers
(The scanner kinda ate the color a bit)

Bleach: How to be Dead

Mon, 26 Nov 2007 20:19:54 GMT

Title: How to be Dead
Author: Cykotyks
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo
Rating: PG13
Genre: General

Summary: "Baby, let me explain something: it's all down to drugs." Fourth, apparently, in the series of "Renji's a fucked up little retard what can't get his shit straight to save his life." No, I don't have a shorter name for it. ["Fall Into You," "Afraid to be Alone," and "Vice's Virtue" are the others] The song is "How to be Dead" by Snow Patrol (if anybody wants it, I'll gladly upload it for you, you just have to ask)
Spoilers: Nothing, except ficwise, does refer to aforementioned fics
Warning: I'm sorry if it seems like it's skipping around or repetative or hypocritical. I wrote this in three stages, and was in different mindsets each time, and I don't feel like going back and making it pretty because it's just showing how fucked up I am. And Renji!muse and his angstbucket doesn't want to fucking leave me the hell alone. Just blame it on the drugs.

Disclaimer: Bleach is Kubo Tite's.
Words: 1101

How to be Dead

Please don't go crazy if I tell you the truth.
No, you don't know what happened, and you never will,
If you don't listen to me while I talk to the wall.
This blanket is freezing, it's been out in the hall,
Where you've had me for hours 'till I'm sure what I want,
But darling I want the same thing that I wanted before,
So sweetheart tell me what's up, I won't stop. No way.
Please keep your hands down and stop raising your voice,
It's hardly what I'd be doing if you gave me a choice.
It's a simple suggestion - can you give me some time?
So just say yes or no - why can't you shoulder the blame?
'Cause both my shoulders are heavy from the weight of us both.
You're a big boy now so let's not talk about growth.
You've not heard a single word I have said...Oh, my God.
Please take it easy it can't all be my fault,
I haven't made half the mistakes that you've listed so far.
Oh baby, let me explain something: it's all down to drugs,
At least I remember taking then and not a lot else.
It seems I've stepped over lines you've drawn again and again,
But if the Ecstasy's in, the wit is definitely out.
Dr. Jekyll is wrestling Hyde for my pride.

Pathetic. The word rang in Renji’s head in a never-ending echo of jeers. He didn’t challenge it, argue with the voice in his head, but just lay in Ichigo’s bed, curled like a child around his pillow. The boy and his family were away at a funeral, leaving Renji very much alone. He had wanted to go with him, but Kuchiki wouldn’t give him the leave, not with so much work piling up.

So now, work done, Renji was left with nothing else to do but curl up with the lingering scent of his boyfriend, reminding himself of how stupid he was being. Because it wasn’t just the pseudo-separation anxiety – he’d been moping around ever since Ichigo had to leave, eating little and sleeping rarely. He was worn down in just two days time now.

Even as he lay in the familiar bed, he could only manage a handful of hours worth of sleep before he woke up again, still tired, but unable to close his eyes. His stomach growled and whined, having not had a single thing to eat since that morning. Renji simply frowned and buried his face in the pillow, wishing that Ichigo’s scent alone would make everything better.

Eventually, he either passed out or slipped back into slumber, and the next thing he knew, he was slowly coaxed awake with the presence of another. He cracked his eyes open and focused them on a familiar form before him.

“Ichii…?” he mumbled, his voice rough.

The orange-haired boy just frowned and turned to leave.

“W-wait—!” His voice sounded weak, whiny, and needy – all in one word. He hated himself for it. His hand shot out, reaching, grasping for him, but he caught nothing but air, and Ichigo was gone.

Tears and questions welled up, and he bit his lip hard and buried his face in the pillow once again, berating himself for being so dependent, so clingy. And for fucking himself up enough to start seeing things – why did he think touching that shit again would be a good idea? If Ichigo knew…

Oh yes, if Ichigo knew, he’d beat the idiot redhead down to a bloody pulp. First alcohol, then fighting, and now drugs – eventually, he was going to hit a deep and old vice that would piss Ichigo off enough to kill him for. And Renji was pretty sure he would deserve it ten times over. He already deserved it – at the very least, he deserved to be left. He didn’t deserve his boyfriend’s patience and understanding, however laced with irritability and annoyance as he made it.

So why did he do it? He knew Ichigo would be pissed, just like he knew when he sought a losing fight, just like he knew when he drowned himself in alcohol. And he knew it would be perfectly understandable if Ichigo left him because of it. Ichigo had every right to dump him, and Renji would understand, because who would want somebody this flawed, this fucked up?

Maybe it frightened him that Ichigo did see every single flaw in him and yet loved him anyway, more so than it would if Ichigo loved him because he saw none of it. He could handle a love borne on blindness – hell, Rikichi was the epitome of that, and even with nothing more than a brotherly affection for the kid, Renji still felt guilty about deceiving him. Of course, he had to be deceiving him, because he was no more special than anybody else. He was simply human with flaws and vices. Who would look up to that?

So in a state of near-panic, Renji had started throwing those flaws and vices and imperfections out in the open, half expecting Ichigo to see what a mistake this all was and leave him, and half hoping Ichigo would still love him all the same. And deeper still he kept digging, bringing out the old habits long since dropped with a hastiness that spoke of masochism and suicide – why could he just not understand that Ichigo did truly love him? Why did he have to go and bring up these hidden secrets from the past – secrets that would make any sane person wash their hands clean of him? Was he trying to ruin this relationship?

He loved the boy – there was no doubt about that. He loved him enough to be truthful, to tell him everything, to ask, “Do you really want me?” and be prepared to leave if the answer was no. He loved him and trusted him more so than any other person, because nobody else had ever gotten this far into him. Nobody else had scared him this bad, because he always knew when the relationship would fail, and he could jump ship before it hurt too much. But there was no foresight with Ichigo. If this relationship failed, Renji knew it would hurt, because that part that loved to hope was bigger than it had ever been, clouding whatever sense he had. He wouldn’t see it coming because he didn’t want to, but the other part of him would understand, because there were more than enough reasons to be left.

Renji bit back the emotions, damning the drugs that made him lose control. He didn’t want this. He never wanted this. So why the hell did he go and do it? He could’ve easily stayed away from it and been perfectly fine when Ichigo came back, and there would be nothing for the boy to get mad over.

But there was a sickness in his head and in his stomach. The gnawing guilt of Ichigo doesn’t know ate away at him more than it had any right to. And instead of taking it like a man and squashing it before it would get to be too hard to handle, he let it fester until he was no better than the child crying over every single bump and scrape he got from doing something he knew would get him injured. He was childish and selfish and eventually it would get bad enough that Ichigo would give up and leave him, because they all gave up and left him. Nobody wanted a needy, clingy child for a boyfriend.

But he couldn’t leave, couldn’t make himself step away, because there was still hope. There was still the possibility that all of this was real and true, and he wanted it all, right up until they hit the brick wall that would break them both. And that…that was why he was so selfish, so pathetic.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bleach: Vice's Virtue

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 04:14:17 GMT

Title: Vice's Virtue
Author: Cykotyks
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo
Rating: PG15
Genre: General

Summary: Renji follows a different route to numb a new vice.
Spoilers: Ficwise - refers to "Afraid to be Alone" and a small ficlet shizukashadow wrote but I don't think ever posted.
Warnings: Violence, masochism, some random fucked-up-edness

Disclaimer: Bleach is Kubo Tite's.
Words: 2505

Vice's Virtue

Jealousy. It rose like bile of the heart at the stupidest things. But time after time, he bit it back, tightened the lid on the bottle. It was too late to do anything now – letting it out would make a mess of the things that had gone right so far, but keeping it in the bottle would undoubtedly result in an explosion. What was worse?

He didn’t know.

So he was in his gigai, wandering the shady back alleys of claimed territories, knowing full well that he was crossing lines and asking for a fight. He was looking for it. Because if nothing else, he could at least take out his jealousy on them. It didn’t matter if he made the mess here, because they weren’t important people. They didn’t matter. Just nameless faces. Punching bags.

It was a dangerous game he was playing, he knew, but Ichigo had expressly forbidden him from his only other option. Alcohol was his safety, his comfort zone. It dulled the things too painful or frustrating to think about, and it made his life simple again. But Ichigo had said no, so he listened. What was that – loyalty? Or submission?

It was everything nobody expected him to be, and yet wasn’t surprising in the least. After all, he was little more than a stray dog—a puppy, even, simply looking for the right pair of warm arms to pick him up and tell him he was home. And the boy he’d inexplicably found himself drawn to had no idea. No, because Renji himself had buckled his own collar around his neck with shiny dog tags and handed Ichigo the other end of the leash, rolling over and saying I’m yours without any prompting. It could’ve been pathetic, but Ichigo didn’t understand, didn’t like that idea, and so treated Renji as an equal, as a rival, as a friend – not a pet, not a dog.

Ichigo’s innocence and compassion was second nature, but to Renji, it was a gift. To think that, to somebody who was so readily willing to be used and abused, God would give somebody who simply would not do such things… It was nothing Renji wanted to lose for anything, but that very same compassion he had for Renji, he had for the rest of his friends, and despite the differences, it still frightened something in the redhead. It bred possessiveness, territorial tendencies.

Jealousy.

That bile that arose every time a friend requested Ichigo’s attention, Ichigo’s presence, for whatever the reason. If it took the boy away from him, he had to bite it back, smile and nod, and pretend he didn’t wish they would fuck off and leave his Ichigo to him. Nothing had changed. Where before he sought to forget that Ichigo did not belong to him, now he sought to forget that, still, Ichigo was not owned by him. The only difference now was that Renji had every right to kick the asses of those with ulterior motives. He could call it being protective, then, and Ichigo actually found it somewhat…endearing.

Renji smirked to himself, recalling the voice that had said just that to him with a smile and a laugh. He probably won’t find this shit too “endearing,” though… he mused, finding himself surrounded by several thugs, eager to teach a stray what happened when boundaries were not followed.

He could take it, though, because the bottle was close to bursting, and these poor saps took the brunt of it, and once he wore himself out and had his fill, they took him down, repaying him tenfold, not knowing they were doing exactly what he wanted, what he needed. The abuse that Ichigo would not, could not give was instead given by strangers, reminding him of his place.

A guilty pleasure.

A reality check.

And in some way, it was better than alcohol, because he could place the blame elsewhere. He could point the finger in a fight, say it wasn’t his fault. He could find an excuse and accuse an insignificant source.

But Ichigo would ask what happened, giving him that stop bullshitting me look, and Renji would roll over again and tell the truth. He’d tell him he was looking for it, that he knew full well what he was getting into, that he all but begged them to do it. And Ichigo would call him stupid and clean him up again, and they would talk and get the kinks out of this dysfunctional relationship, and then Ichigo would tell him not to do it again, and Renji would listen, because that was what he did. He listened to him. He obeyed. Damn the dog in him.

Damn it all.

Renji spat out blood from his mouth – a tooth knocked free. Down on his knees, arms held behind him – damn them. There was no such thing as being fair when it came to being territorial. Renji knew that. That was why he could never simply ask somebody to spar with him – it was too fair, too even. He needed the imbalance, the hopeless fight. This was the masochistic streak a mile wide, showing full and bright.

At least, he thought as his vision blurred to black, it’s better than the alternative…

When he came to, he found himself still in the alley, thrown haphazardly against the wall, out of the way. Nothing was broken, but everything hurt. He grinned ruefully – he could practically hear Ichigo’s scolding tone already.

He pushed himself up and sat with his back against the brick wall, catching his breath as he assessed his injuries. Pulling himself from the gigai without a gikongan would be painful at this point – too many wounds cut deeper than skin.

He pulled himself to his feet, wincing at the pain.

Ichigo glared at him for at least a good minute as he stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Then he turned and went to get bandages from the clinic, and Renji gingerly stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He settled himself on a kitchen chair as Ichigo came back.

“I should just dunk you in Urahara’s spring…” the orange-haired man grumbled, getting a washcloth and a bowl of water.

Renji grinned sheepishly. “Might help… Getta see me naked ’n’ all,” he tried to joke.

“I was just gonna throw you in, clothes and all,” he snapped.

The redhead let some sort of half-whimpering sound escape as he opted for looking apologetic, which just resulted in Ichigo rolling his eyes. “I gotta do somethin’, yanno?” Renji said softly. “Ya told me not ta drink on rooftops, so I needed somethin’ else…it’s…just a fix, I guess…”

“So you got the shit beat outta ya,” Ichigo scowled as he started cleaning Renji’s head wound.

“Yeah…”

“Makes fuckin’ sense to me,” he said sarcastically. “If ya wanted to get your ass handed to you why didn’t you just pick a fight with me?”

Renji closed his eyes. “I could ask the same thing to you…” he said, hating himself for bringing it up. Ichigo’s rendezvous with Grimmjow were something he was well aware of, and something he had reluctantly accepted for Ichigo’s sake. He hated it, but those, too, were Ichigo’s fix for something Renji couldn’t give.

Ichigo paused. “So that’s what this is about…”

“No, it’s not—what I’m sayin’ is that it’s just the same goddamn thing.”

Ichigo tensed but continued cleaning up the dried blood.

“Ichii, I fight with ya when I need to fight. But this wasn’t about fightin’ – it was about me gettin’ beat up. An’ that’s what I wanted ’em to do.”

The younger man sighed and rinsed the washcloth out in the bowl, turning the water a nice pink. “I guess I can understand that… I just don’t like that you felt the need to do that…”

“Yer not the only idiot who needs to get knocked down a few pegs, yanno…”

He rested his head on Renji’s shoulder. “We’re pretty fucked up, huh?”

Renji sighed, mumbling, “Yeah… Especially me…”

“Why’dya say that?” Ichigo mumbled back.

The redhead managed a rueful chuckle. “Ya wanna know?”

Ichigo reluctantly lifted his head to clean more blood from Renji’s skin. “Might as well.”

He forced himself to look at the man. “You do things like this for me without question. But you do it for all your other friends, too, and that…” he dropped his gaze, “it pisses me off, I guess. And I gotta tell myself that they’re your friends, and they deserve your attention, too. It wasn’t so bad before, ’cause I wasn’t around you so much, but it’s been gettin’ worse. The more time I spend with ya, I guess the more I get to thinkin’ that you’re mine, and then when somebody else gets your attention… Well, it pisses me off worse, but I don’t do anythin’ ’cause I know it ain’t right. That’s why I gotta go get myself beat up, ’cause even if it’s just a bunch of punk-ass little shits, they remind me that I don’t own anythin’, ’specially not you. It reminds me that I’m still just a stray…”

Ichigo let Renji talk until he fell silent. He sighed. “Ren… I wish there was something I could do that’d make me less…me, I guess. I mean, I know I’m pretty bad at dividin’ my attention between people…I dunno. Feels like if I’m there with a friend, then I should give them what I can, since I might not see them for a while. I guess that really doesn’t help you and your…issue with it…” He ran a hand through Renji’s hair. “But ya gotta realize, just ’cause I’m not here, or paying attention to you, doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you, or wanting to spend time with you.”

Renji shook his head a bit. “It ain’t that. I know I get the most of your attention out of anybody else, and it ain’t you I get pissed at. It’s them. It’s everybody else. It’s like…” He sighed, searching for the words again. “I’m territorial. But…I’m a stray. I don’t have any territory. There’s nothin’ that’s just mine, nothin’ I got any right defendin’.”

Ichigo looked confused. “What do you mean, no right? You defend your friends ’n’ Rukia, ’cause they’re your friends. Doesn’t that give ya the right? Hell, you defended the world, when no one really asked you to.”

“I don’t mean defend-protect… Defend territory. Keep everybody else away. A fuckin’ possessive ankle-biter.

He raised his eyebrows. “Ya know that’s impossible, right? You can’t get rid of everyone in the world.

“I don’t wanna get rid of ’em – they’re my friends, too. I just…wanna keep ’em away from you, is all.”

“What, are you gonna lock me up in a tower with no door?” he asked incredulously.

“No! That’s why I’m sayin’ I can’t do it, idiot!”

Ichigo rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’d call you a masochist, but then I’d have to call myself a kettle.”

“I’m a masochist ’cause I ain’t gonna do somethin’ that’d make you hate me?”

He flicked the tattooed forehead. “Idiot. I wouldn’t hate you for something stupid like that. I’d be pissed and worried, but I wouldn’t hate you. Dumbass.”

Renji winced. “So…lemme get this straight – ya don’t care that I’m a jealous, over-possessive mutt who would rather get the shit kicked outta him before he even considered actin’ on that stupid shit?”

Ichigo blinked and groaned. “No, I thought you meant—gah…” he scratched the back of his head, gathering his thoughts. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, it’s kinda weird to think about, that you’d be so possessive over me. I mean, it’s kinda nice to know you care so much, ’cause no one’s ever tried to…claim me, I guess. But if it’s gonna drive you to looking like this,” he gestured to Renji’s bruised and battered body, “then yeah, I’d rather you didn’t come home black and blue from not acting on that stuff. But I don’t think I can be chained to your side either.”

“A dog doesn’t own his master, idiot,” he mumbled.

“The dog has more power than he thinks,” Ichigo sighed, scowling from the analogy.

“Ya don’t understand that that’s exactly why I’m fine with it,” Renji explained, resting his head against Ichigo. “You don’t abuse it.”

“Feels like I do sometimes,” Ichigo replied, absently stroking Renji’s hair.

“Nah. I’d let ya know if ya did.”

He gave a slight smile. “You better, or else I’ll have to beat your ass.”

Renji chuckled. “What – for not tellin’ ya that yer askin’ for too much?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a logical response.”

“Yeah, logic ain’t really yer strong point, is it?”

“Tch – compared to you, my logic is perfect.”

Renji quirked an eyebrow. “Riiiight.”

Ichigo poked a purple bruise on Renji’s arm, eliciting a pained grunt from the man before he smacked Ichigo’s hand away. “So what brand of logic were you using when ya earned all these?” the younger man asked jokingly.

“The ‘glare threateningly at your friends and risk you getting mad, or go pick a fight and risk you getting mad’ brand of logic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like a win-win to me.” He chuckled. “Though I have to admit, it would have been hilarious to watch you get beat up by Tatsuki for looking at her wrong.”

“The only problem is that I’d probably fight back. And tomboy-bitch or not, I’m still stronger than her.”

Ichigo hit him on the back of the head, making him wince again. “Dumbass – don’t you think she’s come up against tough guys with the same attitude before?”

“We’re talkin’ human girl versus shinigami man – I give her credit for bein’ able to kick the crap outta you, and honestly, if I wasn’t tryin’, she could beat me up pretty well, but, fuck – she’s part of my jealousy problem. I’d fight back. And I’m sure I’d end up hurting her.”

“You’d really get that mad?”

“I might. Don’t wanna risk it.”

He shook his head. “You’re crazy sometimes, y’know.”

Renji nodded a bit. “Yeah. I know.”

Ichigo rested his chin on Renji’s shoulder. “What’m I gonna do with you?”

“Hn… Put a leash on me and teach me ‘sit’ and ‘stay’?”

“Dunno, would you listen?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe. Gotta train me right.”

“Gotta find a good treat for you, then.”

Renji grinned. “This mean ya gonna get me a collar, too?”

Ichigo smirked back. “I thought you already had one,” he said, tracing the jet-black tattoos on Renji’s neck with his fingertips, making him shiver.

“I might, I might not. Do I get a tag that says ‘Property of Kurosaki Ichigo’?”

“Pft, was that ever a doubt?”

Renji smiled as Ichigo went back to bandaging him back up. He could live with this – no, he wanted to live with this. For the rest of his afterlife.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bleach: Fruit Basket - 2

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 03:27:32 GMT

Title: Fruit Basket
Chapter: 2•Terrible Two
Word Count: 2058
Total Count: 3140
Warnings: Smut
Japanese: Sou ka? = That so?/Really? • "Baka geta-boushi" = stupid sandal-hat ("geta-boushi" is Ichigo's original nickname for Urahara)

Fruit Basket : Terrible Two

Nine months later, as Orihime was going into labor, the nurses attempted to shoo the boys out of the room save for the supposed father of the baby. Orihime, ever her sweet self, attempted to explain the situation, but when a snobbish nurse refused the excuse, the woman found out just what a good temper tantrum felt like.

“I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL NOT HAVE THIS CHILD UNLESS HIS FAMILY IS ABLE TO BE HERE!” she screamed, kicking an attending nurse away.

Uryuu, Ichigo, and Renji cowered, all more than well aware of the woman’s angry reiatsu.

The nurse who’d been against the idea gave in, and Orihime returned to her happy, smiling state and apologized to the nurse she’d kicked.

“You didn’t have to go that far, Orihime-chan,” Ichigo chuckled nervously.

“Nonsense – she had it coming. Besides! I never knew temper tantrums could be so much fun!”

“We could’ve just waited outside and come in here as shinigami,” the orange-haired man whispered.

“Not a chance, Ichigo! Kiwamaru-chan is your and Renji’s child, and everybody should know that both of his fathers were able to see the first sight of him.”

“You’re somethin’ else, Orihime,” Renji laughed, kissing her forehead.

Several hours and two crushed hands later, a tired Orihime held the blue-blanket swaddled boy in her arms.

“He’s so tiny…” Renji marveled, almost afraid to touch him. “This little guy was screamin’ that fuckin’ loud?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Ichigo chuckled. “My sisters, when they were born – I could hear them wailing from outside the room. I thought they had to be huge to make so much noise. But they were sotiny…” He chuckled, remembering. “My dad was actually pretty sober that time, which I think is even harder to believe.”

“Do you want to hold him, Ichigo?” Orihime asked.

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt him or something,” he laughed.

“You couldn’t hurt a baby even if you tried, Ichigo. Now, both of you, just sit down on the bed here…” She handed the sleeping Kiwamaru over to Ichigo, instructing him again how to hold the child correctly, laughing when he complained about how heavy the boy’s healthy three and a half kilos was. Ichigo had Renji try, and laughed at his lover’s awkwardness; teaching him how to hold the baby boy was a hands-on lesson.

When Renji finally got comfortable with it, he asked, “So when do I get to show him off to the guys?”

“Whenever they can come over here, I guess. It shouldn’t be long before the whole of Seireitei knows.”

Uryuu poked his head in. “You might want to clear out – a nurse is headed over here and is going to shoo you away so Orihime-chan can get some rest.”

“Aa – arigatou, Uryuu,” Ichigo nodded.

Renji handed Kiwamaru back to Orihime and kissed her hard on her cheek. Ichigo did the same, wrapping his arms around her in a loose hug. Together, they retreated from the room without a word, making Orihime’s soft smile grow. They didn’t need to say ‘thank you,’ like she just did them a favor – that would only cheapen it; their gratitude and affection washed over her plain as day. There was no need for words.

Outside in the waiting room, the other Kurosakis were there, along with Tatsuki and Rukia.

“The Shinigami Women’s Association wants photographs ASAP,” Rukia told them with a grin.

“What, did you go and announce it all over Soul Society while we were gone?” Ichigo snapped jokingly.

“Oh please – a simple text message to Matsumoto was more than enough.”

“So when can we see the little bundle of joy?” Isshin interrupted with a huge grin.

“I’ll lead the way,” Uryuu said, walking down the hall.

“So is he already walking and kicking the crap outta you two dumbasses?” Karin asked with a chuckle as the group followed loosely behind the Quincy.

“Karin!” Yuzu laughed.

“He might be – I overheard a nurse complaining about how strong he was,” Ichigo replied. “Good thing he was asleep by the time they brought him back to Orihime-chan.”

“How’s she doing?” Yuzu asked.

“Pretty good – she’s exhausted, though. Renji and I are pretty worn out, too.”

“My hand still fuckin’ hurts,” Renji added.

“I still can’t believe it,” Karin said, “my own big brother – a mother! Who’d’a thunk?” she jeered.

“Watch it, sis – some day you’ll be one, too,” Ichigo shot back, mussing Karin’s short black hair.

“Like hell I will – after watching you two be all lovey-dovey and shit? I’ll stay single my whole life if I can help it.”

“I wanna hear you say that when we see your wedding invitation,” Renji teased.

“Which one is he?” Rukia asked. They were at the large window of the nursery, looking in on rows of newborn boys and girls, all swaddled and capped in their corresponding colors.

Renji and Ichigo spotted their boy immediately – he was in the second row from the end, with a blue and white Quincy-crossed knit cap.

“You actually managed to convince them to use yours?” Ichigo asked Uryuu with a laugh as the other five crowded at the window, cooing over the baby.

“Orihime-chan did, actually,” Uryuu said.

“She said you had like a whole room full of all sorts’a baby junk,” Renji said.

“Well, I may have gotten a little carried away…” he admitted sheepishly. “After she told me what you said about staying away from feminine things, I…may have taken that as a challenge to my skills…”

Ichigo snorted in laughter. “So I take it you could probably supply at least half of Kiwamaru’s wardrobe for the first few years?”

“With what I have now, I think I may have him covered for the most part for the first year.”

“Jesus fuck, Quincy,” Renji laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh my god…” Ichigo groaned, leaning his head back on Renji’s shoulder. “I am so fucking exhausted.”

“I told you you’d make a great mother,” Renji chuckled, nuzzling his lover’s orange hair as his hands ran over the toned body. “You won’t even let me help out.”

Ichigo laughed weakly. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s one thing after another after another and it’s like if I’m not doing something, then obviously I’m missing something.” He leaned forward at Renji’s nudging, letting the sword-callused hands and fingers massage his aching body. “Besides, you are helping. This? This is helping. A lot.”

“I still say you make a wonderful Mom,” Renji stated, slipping his hands below the surface of the warm bath water down to Ichigo’s hips, then pressing strong fingers into his thighs, massaging the sore muscles.

Ichigo leaned back against him again with a contented moan.

“Is Kiwa at your dad’s?” the redhead asked, running his hands up Ichigo’s inner thighs.

The younger man grinned, looping his arms around Renji’s neck behind him. “Yep,” he said happily, rolling his hips against his lover’s. “Isshin can play Grandaddy for the night, and we,” he kissed him, “can make all the noise we want.”

Renji chuckled and kissed him again as his hands slowly massaged their way up his thighs. He grinned at Ichigo’s squirming when he purposely avoided touching his balls and his waking erection and instead worked his way up across his butt and hips to his sides, which elicited more squirming.

“Renjiii…” Ichigo whined, not happy with his teasing.

The redhead laughed. “I know, I know,” he replied, nuzzling at the hollow behind his earlobe. He moved his hands forward and down Ichigo’s front, pressing deft fingers into taut abs before he circled them around Ichigo’s need. One hand cupped his balls with the same massaging motions while the other rubbed along his shaft, making him painfully hard in just a few strokes. As Renji’s hands worked, Ichigo found his rhythm and rocked his hips in time, stimulating Renji’s own half-hard cock.

The only sounds in the bathroom were the constant splashing of displaced water lapping against the tiled sides of the tub, and the soft pants and moans coming from the two men. This was a quieter ritual, but one the two loved the most. Without needing to constantly monitor the baby boy, they could easily devote their attention to one another, and the resulting orgasms usually put them to sleep soon after.

This time, though, as exhausted as Ichigo was, the intense orgasm knocked him out almost immediately afterwards, leaving Renji to clean them both up and carry his lover to bed.

“Has everything been going okay?” Hanatarou asked as he checked up on Kiwa. “He’s been normal, right?”

“If you can call being able to exhaust me in less than twenty-four hours normal, then yeah,” Ichigo said, stretching his back over the arm of the couch.

“Ichii’s a bunny,” Kiwa giggled.

“Sou ka?” Hanatarou chuckled.

“Energizer Bunny,” Ichigo supplied, picking Kiwa up and setting him on his stomach. Kiwa was two years old now, with a fluffy, unkempt mop of red-orange hair that could’ve been reminiscent of a sunset, and tawny-brown eyes that shone with abundant curiosity and wonder. “Renji made me dress up for Halloween as it and now ‘Ichii’s a bunny’ is like his all-time favorite thing to say.”

“Orange bunny!” Kiwa tugged at Ichigo’s orange locks, which were becoming a bit long.

“Yep, orange,” Ichigo laughed. “Ichii needs a haircut, huh? He’s gonna look like Cousin It.”

“Fuzzy cousin! Like a doggy?”

“Ooh – wanna tell Hana about the doggy you found?”

“Kiwa found a doggy!”

“What color was the doggy?”

“All black, and white right here,” he said as he clapped his hands over his eyes.

“Hey! Where’d Kiwa go?”

“Here!” Kiwa took his hands away and tackled Ichigo at the neck.

“Jesus—Kiwa, you’re gonna choke me!” he laughed, sitting up and moving Kiwa to his lap. “He’s strong, you know,” Ichigo said to Hanatarou. “He nearly broke Ren’s finger the other day.”

“Finger-pop,” Kiwa said, tugging at Ichigo’s fingers.

“That’s not abnormal. He is your child,” Hanatarou chuckled. “His spiritual pressure hasn’t developed yet, but when it does, you need to train him to suppress it. It’s going to at least be at Renji’s level, if not at yours.”

“Will he be a shinigami?”

“As a human, only if he’s subjected to the same thing you were. His powers as a shinigami are there, and they’re strong, but they’re kept under lock and key, as they should be in a human.” He sighed. “But he can still see and hear and touch shinigami and Hollows, whether or not he knows why.”

“I know that. We’re not hiding anything from him. We’d love to give him a normal life, but that’s not possible. The less he knows, the more danger he’s in, so we’re teaching him what we can so he knows what’s going on, but we don’t want him to be a shinigami – there’s no reason to push the politics of that onto him, not when he’s got a life to live. Even Uryuu said he wouldn’t push the Quincy heritage onto his kids, but he won’t keep them from it, either. It’s senseless.”

Hanatarou nodded. “Aa – you have a point.”

“Oh, there’s something else I wanted to ask you – what do you know about Ren’s bloodline? As far as he knows, the tattoos are inherited. They just appeared with experience – things that changed him, is what he said.”

“That may simply be a shinigami thing, but there’s a chance that, with Kiwa’s circumstances, it will show on his human body. I wouldn’t think they would start until puberty, though. And I doubt they’ll get anywhere near as extreme as Renji’s, at least not in his human lifetime.”

“Is there any chance that his shinigami powers will unlock on their own when he’s still alive?”

“Under normal circumstances, no, but Kiwa is not under normal circumstances. What’s holding it under wraps may simply be his human body. If he ever does get knocked free, he may be a simple plus, or he may be a shinigami. We don’t know. The potential is there, just as it was with you.”

“So I just need to keep him away from Rukia and Urahara and we’re good, yeah?” Ichigo joked.

“Baka geta-boushi!” Kiwa enthusiastically agreed, making both men laugh.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bleach: Fruit Basket - 1

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 01:52:25 GMT

Title: Fruit Basket
Author: Cykotyks
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo, Ishida/Orihime, mentioned Keigo/Mizuiro, possible OC/OC or OC/CC pairings (you'll be warned beforehand)
Rating: ranging between PG-13 and R
Genre: General family crack? You decide.

Summary: Renji and Ichigo decide to go through with a crack experiment that leaves them with a new bundle of ~~joy~~ trouble.
Spoiler: Some mentions of random things that happen in recent chapters, otherwise not much.
Warning: NOT MPREG. Swearing, some smut later on, bad influences, corruption of little children

Disclaimer: Kubo Tite owns Bleach, I own this fic
Word Count: ~1000
Notes: This is pure crack prancing about under the guise of seriousness. I warned you. This was based off of this image (I don't know the artist, so if somebody does, feel free to tell me and I'll properly credit).
Dedication: shizukashadow for showing me that fanart and for encouraging this. Also, to the new filler-dude, who also looks like a RenjiIchigo lovechild.
Japanese: sugoi = wow

Fruit Basket : Renji Knew

Renji knew. As soon as Ichigo started outlining the responsibilities and the money they would be spending, and finding preschools and daycares in the area, and secretly flipping through baby magazines – Renji knew that he’d finally won Ichigo over. All his talk, all the information he’d gathered, all the things he’d promised finally brought Ichigo to his senses. Of course, Renji would’ve never even mentioned it if he didn’t know Ichigo would be up for it.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out how good Ichigo was with kids. And as his lover, Renji knew how much Ichigo wanted a kid of his own, even if it took a bit of prodding to get him to seriously admit it.

“Rukia or Orihime?” Ichigo asked out of the blue as they lay together.

Renji blinked at him, confused. “For what?”

“To carry the kid,” he murmured.

“Orihime,” the redhead answered. “Rukia, as much as she loves us, wouldn’t do it.”

“I kinda figured…”

His lover smiled and ran his fingers through the orange hair. “You got names picked out?”

“Masaki if it’s a girl. And Kiwamaru if it’s a boy.”

“Kiwamaru?”

“It’s our kid. It fits, don’t you think?”

Renji chuckled. “Yeah, it does.”

This procedure, Renji knew, was not to be taken lightly. Even before Ichigo had agreed to it, he had already talked to Orihime about bearing their child. He gave her time to think it over, forewarning for Ichigo’s question. So, during breakfast, when Ichigo mused over how to ask Orihime this favor, Renji was prepared for his reaction.

“You already talked to her? When?”

“When you were still laughing at the idea,” Renji said, setting his dishes in the sink.

“You asked her before I’d even agreed to it?!”

He leaned back against the countertop. “I didn’t ask her, dumbass. I told her about it and said that if you agreed to it, she would probably be one of the first girls you’d ask. I just gave her some warning. Besides, this way, at least we know she’s thought her decision over.”

“I just can’t believe you talked to her already…”

“Oh come on, Ichii. You would’ve agreed to it eventually.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Renji cocked his head at him with an amused smirk. “Every single child spirit we’ve come across? Your own sisters? Nell? Well, Nell before she suddenly went from an adorable little toddler to the Tres Espada. But whatever – you love kids, Berry-brains. I’d be surprised if you didn’t want one of your own.”

“How did you go from me being good with kids to me wanting a kid?”

“Well, I ain’t wrong, am I?”

“No, but still. I’m not seeing the logical brain process.”

“Since when are parents logical?”

Ichigo paused, thinking of his own father. He chuckled. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Besides, you’d make a good mommy.”

“I hate you.”

Renji chuckled and pushed off from the counter. He put a finger under Ichigo’s chin, lifting his head up, and kissed him. “Come on, let’s drop by her house today. I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic at the news.”

“Mmm… What about Uryuu?”

“She should’ve talked to him by now, don’t you think?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Orihime would say yes, I know that much, but I don’t know how Uryuu would react.”

“We’ll see when we get there.”

When Orihime had first heard about the boys’ plans for a baby, she was excited and completely gung-ho about it. But Renji had told her maybe. It was still only a maybe. As time went by, she mulled it over, wondering when Ichigo would agree, if ever. Then she had broken the news to Uryuu – Renji and Ichigo wanted her to bear their child. He’d been confused and she’d explained it how Renji had told her. He didn’t like it – the thought of his wife bearing the child of another couple. Then she’d talked to Tatsuki, who highlighted the upsides (for him) to pregnancy. He’d agreed after that.

So when Ichigo and Renji stopped by, her cheerful face put them off guard.

“Don’t worry so much! I talked to Uryuu-kun and Tatsuki-chan about it already,” she reassured them, setting down their tea.

“Ishida actually agreed to it?” Ichigo asked.

“Well, not at first, but Tatsuki-chan told him that pregnant women were always horny,” she told him with a beaming face. “He agreed after that.”

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Ichigo-kun, you should know me better. Of course I’m okay with it!”

“Even if it wasn’t me – what if like…Keigo and Mizuiro asked you the same thing?”

“I’d still say yes. Besides, eventually Uryuu-kun is going to want a child. Going through one birth will at least prepare me.”

“Where is the Quincy, anyway?” Renji piped up.

“He’s teaching a summer sewing class – he should be back in a little while. He’ll probably end up sewing something for your child, too,” she laughed.

“You honestly believe me an’ him are gonna produce a kid even remotely girly enough to wear what he makes?” Renji joked.

“Yeah, seriously,” Ichigo chuckled. “Tell him to stay away from anything pink and frilly if he decides to go on a spree.”

Orihime chuckled – she could just imagine her husband’s office filled to the brim with baby blankets, bibs, plushies, onesies, booties, and all sorts of other things. “I can’t guarantee anything,” she said with a smile. “So when are you going to go through with this?”

Ichigo shrugged. “Whenever you’re ready. We’ll go through the gate at Urahara’s. Unohana-san will do most of the medical stuff and she’ll walk you through everything.”

“What’ll actually be put into you is a—wha’d he call it?”

“A zygote – Renji’s sperm and my DNA in an egg, already fused. Once that’s settled in you, then we should be safe to cross back over.”

“Urahara-san said he could modify the converters to convert all spiritons back to atoms, which would guarantee the baby’s conversion.”

“But…what about the baby’s soul?”

“Yeah, we were worried about that, too, but Unohana assured us that a living being’s soul isn’t formed until blood runs through the body,” the redhead explained.

“The atoms in the blood actually split into spiritons, creating the soul,” Ichigo added, articulating his words with hand motions. “In a way, it’s just another organ the body is forming.”

“Sugoi… Will the child be a shinigami, too?”

Renji and Ichigo exchanged glances. Renji sighed. “No idea, really.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Kiwamaru" can mean "comes to an end" or "gets carried to extremes."
"Kiwadoi," which can mean "dangerous," "delicate," or "ticklish," was the first name we had for him.
"Kiwa," which is what the name gets shortened to next chapter, can mean "brink" or "edge." Also, it looks like "kiwi," giving rise to the title of this (Ichigo being a strawberry, Renji being a pineapple, and Kiwamaru being a kiwi - thus, a fruit basket).
Just a little tidbit of information for you! Forshadowing, maybe? ;D

Also, please don't expect chapters for this to be out in any sort of timely manner. It's just a little cracky thing Shizuka and I came up with and I just decided to post the first chapter because of Acid's appearance in the anime (if you don't get it, I'll post a screencap and explain XD)

Bleach: Afraid to be Alone

Mon, 05 Nov 2007 19:40:02 GMT

Title: Afraid to be Alone
Author: Cykotyks
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo
Rating: PG17–R
Genre: Angst, Drama

Summary: Renji wakes up with Ichigo by his side and things just go downhill from there. [Sequel to "Fall Into You"]
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Angst, anger, then sex.

Disclaimer: Bleach is Kubo Tite's. The song "Because I Want You" is Placebo's.
Words: 3390

Notes: I started writing this one or two days after "Fall Into You" and then got mad at myself for being so emo, so shizukashadow started RPing Ichigo, trying to snap Renji out of his angst. Since it worked relatively well, I incorporated the RP into this, starting from where Ichigo comes in, so pardon if the writing seems a bit off because of it.
Unlike "Fall Into You," I'm not asking for concrit, but feel free to give it anyway. Think of this as like my reward to you for giving me such good feedback for "Fall Into You" ^_^

Afraid to be Alone

Stumble into you, is all I ever do.
My memory's hazy,
And I'm afraid to be alone.
Tear us in two, is all it's gonna do.
As the headache fades,
This house is no longer a home...

It wasn’t the pain – it was the cold. He’d felt pain before – excruciating amounts of pain. It wasn’t the pain. It was the cold. Not just the numbness of having been stagnant for so long, the chill of his skin from the exposure, but the cold, empty feeling inside. The loneliness – the loneliness that can kill a man.

Oh lucky was he in his immortality. Only two things were a danger to him – only two things could kill. But several other things – things emotional, things psychological – could make him wish he were dead.

Glass shards digging into his palms, tearing through spiritons of skin was not one of those.

But how to describe the cold? He knew the phrases, the metaphors – he knew them all, and still none could come close. There was no way to describe it. It wasn’t just his heart that felt missing, but everything else inside of him. Everything he needed to function was numb and unresponsive. Why could he not just die already?

Resigned and mechanical, he pushed himself up, bracing himself for the pain. But there was none. There was no feeling anywhere. Glass shrapnel in his hands he could see, but he could not feel, as if the hand was not his own. But it was, of course, because it could respond to his commands. Lift hand, turn over, wiggle fingers, clench fist – more blood ran down, but that he could not feel, either.

Surreal.

And where was the throbbing in his head? A hangover was a hangover, human alcohol or not. If nothing else, he should be pained from the way he’d passed out. But like the glass in his hand, there was nothing. No pain, but nothing else, either. Nothing.

No wonder he didn’t notice the tears until he witnessed them dripping onto his cut hands, salt water swirling into bitter blood. Obviously it wasn’t from the pain – there was no pain to be felt. The absence of pain. Who knew it could hurt so much worse than pain itself? But it wasn’t pain – it was fear. The ever-cried question of why came back echoed and unanswered.

Fear.

He tried to tear his eyes away, see something other than the damage that he did not feel, but he couldn’t. Torture or masochism – who could tell? More tears fell from open eyes, diluting blood red and thick as it dripped to the ground, leaving stains. Inexplicable, ghost story stains.

And then he felt it. After the vacuum of nothing, he jerked back, surprised, caught off guard. The touch was soft, brushing away the tears he did not feel. Even after his reaction, the touch came back, tentative, as if afraid to scare him again. This time, he didn’t recoil, but tried to look up, to see what it was he was feeling, to see what was breaking through the bubble of the cold, numb feeling. But there was nothing.

He opened his mouth to speak, to ask, but found that he could not form words. Gently, the touch coaxed his eyes closed, and somehow he knew it didn’t matter.

“What the hell, Renji…”

The disapproving voice snapped him back. His eyes opened, but not to the dawning sky. He was under a roof – Urahara’s, if he had to guess. As soon as that registered, so did the pain. Sweet, welcome, grounding physical pain. His slashed-up hand, bruised body, and throbbing head slammed into him at once, but there were no tears. No fear.

But the cold seeped in again when he saw the shinigami substitute sitting by his side, disappointment clear in his brown eyes, masking concern. It froze him, but he didn’t go numb, because the pain was there to make sure he could still feel. He was still grounded, and he was still himself. “Fuck – one fuck-up and you’re pissed. Like you haven’t wallowed in angst before,” he growled as he sat up. He hated the condescending look in Ichigo’s face. Even worse, he hated himself for indulging in something so childish.

Ichigo snorted and looked away. “Just don’t go diving into vodka bottles anymore.”

“I blame you for that.” He cursed inwardly – Ichigo wasn’t supposed to know. The alcohol was probably still messing with his judgment.

“Me?! You were the one passed out on a roof!”

“You were the reason why!”

“What the hell did I do?!”

Renji winced, more from the migraine forming than from knowing he’d gotten in too deep. “…Nothing,” he snapped. “Ya did nothing.”

Ichigo huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “I ain’t letting ya get away with that shit. Tell me what’s buggin’ ya.”

“You are what’s buggin’ me. Yeralways buggin’ me,” Renji growled.

The boy scowled. “Well, if it’s that bad, why don’t you just tell me to fuck off?”

“Like you’d listen!”

“Well, you gotta mean it, dumbass! If ya really hate me being around, I’ll just fucking go.”

“I don’t hate ya, dumbass! That’s the fuckin’ problem!” Renji was looking down at his own lap now. He couldn’t look the boy in the eyes – not now. Not when he was kicking dust off the edge of the cliff that was Truth. So close, and it would probably break him worse than anything.

“You’re not makin’ any sense,” Ichigo sighed.

“’S prob’ly a good thing…” Silently, the redhead thanked the gods that Ichigo was about as perceptive as a rock.

“Not when it makes me worry about you.”

Renji felt something snap. “If you were so fucking worried—!!” He stopped, reigning in his temper with a deep breath. He shook his head, dismissing his outburst. “Nevermind.”

Ichigo grit his teeth. “Look, bastard, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. So either tell me, or I’m just gonna leave ya to moping like an idiot.”

“Ya won’t leave,” Renji said as-a-matter-of-factly. “I know ya won’t, ’cause you’ll just worry that I’ll do it again. And yer prob’ly right.”

“Yeah, but me worrying obviously isn’t gonna stop you from being a dumbass.”

“Ever stop to think that maybe yer worryin’ does more harm than good?” Renji snapped before he could stop himself.

An emotion close to hurt flickered behind Ichigo’s eyes, quickly replaced by stubborn defiance. “I can’t help worrying…about the people who are important to me,” he said, almost strained, before looking away.

Renji’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer before he, too, turned away from him. After a moment, he muttered, “Maybe you outta tell these people why they’re so fuckin’ important, coz I know at least one of them’s got no clue why you care so fuckin’ much…”

Ichigo looked up, caught off guard. “I…I—Why do I need a reason? I care because they’re important to me, fuckin’ important. And some freakin’ loudmouth made me care so fuckin’ much about what he thinks—I can’t lose… Fuck.”

Something close to hope swelled up inside the redhead, but he bit back a pleased smirk all the same. “You’re an idiot, ya know that?” he said softly.

The younger man glared at him. “Well what does that make you then, huh?”

“Compared to you? A fuckin’ genius.”

Ichigo snorted. “Ya gonna tell me what brought all this on?”

“I told ya – you did.

He rolled his eyes. “So, what? Ya just wanted to guilt me into admitting embarrassing stuff?”

“You’d wanna say somethin’ if ya knew it was gonna keep me from finishin’ off a bottle of vodka on top of a building.”

“Of course, idiot!” he snapped. “How many times do I have to drive it through your thick skull? I. Care. About. You. Dumb. ASS.”

Renji kept himself from scoffing. “Ya also care about Rukia and Inoue and Chad and Ishida and all yer crazy friends at school. I already knew that,” he said calmly.

Ichigo huffed. “What more do you want from me, then?”

Everything else. He wanted more. He wanted that special emotion, something that applied to him and him alone. But, of course, this was Ichigo. Ichigo did not play favorites. “If that’s all you wanna give? Nothin’.”

The boy practically pulled his hair out with an exasperated growl. “God, you’re frustrating. Listen, Renji, ya gotta spell things out for me. You may not have noticed, but I’m not the sharpest knife in the box.”

Renji frowned and mulled his options over for a brief moment. It was all or nothing now. “Fine. Ya wanna know why I was up on a roof, drowning in alcohol? Because you fucking blew me off, that’s why. Why does it fucking matter? It fucking shouldn’t, but for some fucking reason, you’re the only fucking person I’ve cared this fucking much about since Rukia. And to be perfectly fucking honest, I’d like to think I maybe meant something to you, but obviously not. So, yeah, just…fuck off.”

Ichigo’s eyes went wide. “Shit, Renji…I—” His mouth opened and closed several times before he found his words again. “I didn’t think, I mean… I figured, well… I—I didn’t know…”

Renji scoffed this time. “Ya didn’t fucking know. And ya never woulda fucking known if ya weren’t such a fucking idiot. And all this woulda fucking blown over and we all woulda been just fucking dandy…”

Ichigo couldn’t look Renji in the eye now. “Well, I’m sorry I just left ya like that, but Tatsuki caught up to me and you know how she is, and…I dunno.” He sighed.

“Like I said, if ya weren’t such an idiot and if you’d’a just let this all blow over, everything woulda been just fucking dandy.”

The boy scowled. “How would everything be fucking dandy if ya kept feeling like this?! Sure, I wouldn’t know what the hell was going on, but that wouldn’t change what you’re going through.”

Renji spoke slowly as if to a small child. “It woulda been just fucking dandy because it’s always been just fucking dandy. And now ya know, and now it’ll never be just fucking dandy.”

“Why the hell does me knowing have to fuckin’ change anything?”

“Because I was fine when ya didn’t know!” Renji snapped. He took a breath, letting it out through his nose. “It…it was better that way.”

“How was it better?”

“’Cause we were friends, dumbass. Everything was good. Ya didn’t need to know. Now ya do, so just drop the fucking ‘good friend’ act and freak out like yer fucking supposed to…”

“Is that what you think I’ll do?” Ichigo snarled. “That I’ll just fucking abandon you, ’cause it’s confusing or difficult? Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“I think…yer still a kid. And if all you’re gonna do is sit there out of honor or duty or whatever fucking moral you live by, I’d rather you just fucking abandon me.”

“And you’re a selfish asshole. Duty, honor—what the fuck, Renji! You think I care about that shit? I care about my friends, my family. And I’m supposed to fuckin’ give a shit if something happens to them. I’m supposed to be there…here. And I ain’t gonna fucking abandon you over whatever goddamn reason you’ve got in your head that makes you think I should.”

“I can only be so masochistic! I’ve gone this long not saying anything, dealing with it because you didn’t know, so it couldn’t be your fucking fault. But now you do know, and it is gonna be your fault, and after all this time of not blaming you, it’d kill me to start. If you really cared, you’d abandon me, because I can take that over nothing changing.”

“I could try,” Ichigo replied quietly, “but I just can’t abandon you, Renji.”

“Then do somethin’ other than just sittin’ there. Because if you don’t run, I will.”

Ichigo’s eyes flashed with something akin to anger and he leaned in closer to the redhead. “So what? You’re just gonna be a fuckin’ coward?”

Renji smiled softly – of course Ichigo would pin the fault on him. Ichigo was innocent, always innocent. He subtly moved closer to him. “You’d prob’ly be surprised at how many times I’ve ran with my tail between my legs.”

“For some reason, I just can’t picture it.”

“Then I won’t try to make ya.”

Ichigo sighed. “Quit being such a pain in the ass and kiss me.”

A grin broke out on Renji’s face before he closed the distance between them with a kiss. Ichigo responded by wrapping his arms around Renji’s neck, making the older man smirk. “You kiss like a girl,” he murmured.

“And you taste like vodka,” Ichigo growled, though without any real heat. “See what I have to put up with? Don’t complain.” He cut off any response Renji might’ve had by kissing him harder and snaking his tongue out to taste Renji’s lower lip.

Renji opened his mouth and touched his tongue against Ichigo’s as the boy slid his hands from Renji’s neck up to the loose red hair. The older man wrapped his arms around Ichigo’s waist and pulled him into his lap, snaking his hands up the boy’s shirt.

Ichigo tugged on Renji’s hair a bit as he pulled back just enough to nip at the man’s jaw. Renji let slip a small moan before his hands traveled up Ichigo’s sides and pulled him down on top of him, pressing their body’s together, making the boy gasp at the sensation. Recovering, Ichigo leaned up and licked and nipped at Renji’s ear. The man suppressed a second moan as his fingers experimentally pressed against the boy’s sides before running them down his back and shifting to press his thigh between Ichigo’s legs. The younger man froze at the new sensation, panting lightly against Renji’s cheek, his hands gripping tightly to his shoulders.

Renji kissed the corner of Ichigo’s mouth. “Want me to stop?”

His voice seemed to kick the boy’s brain back into gear, his thumbs absently stroking Renji’s neck. “I don’t… No… It’s just…different,” he stammered shyly.

Renji smirked. “Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he said softly, cutting off any reply with another kiss, and effectively muffling any response as his hands slid under Ichigo’s pants. Ichigo panted, breathless, as he pressed into the hand, his own hands slipping under the loose folds of Renji’s top, his palms flat against the others toned stomach. Renji hummed softly, enjoying the contact, as his fingers pressed against Ichigo’s butt, making him squirm. He slid his hands around, shivering as Ichigo retaliated by rubbing and teasing his fingertips and nails across Renji’s nipples. Fumbling, Renji got the button undone on Ichigo’s jeans and fondled him through his boxers. Ichigo moaned and involuntarily thrust his hips against the hand, feeling himself go weak against the man’s body. Renji supported him, failing to hide his pleased grin, as both hands slid under the boxers, running teasing fingers along his member.

Ichigo turned his head and ran his tongue along the tattoos on Renji’s neck in revenge, giving the man goosebumps. “Bastard…” he muttered as his body shuddered.

“You love it,” Renji retorted, licking at Ichigo’s ear and wrapping a hand around Ichigo’s growing erection.

His hips twitched against his hand and a shiver shot down his spine. “Mmmm… You know me too well,” he nearly purred before he bit down on Renji’s neck between the two tattoos, sucking on the spot to leave a hickie.

Renji smirked, feeling the bruise. “Gotta mark me up and claim me as yours, don’tcha?” he teased affectionately.

“And to remind ya that I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” he smirked in return as Renji cupped Ichigo’s balls with one hand, the other running up his dick. “Shit, Renji—” He let out a half mewl, half moan.

Renji bit Ichigo’s neck as well, matching the hickie on his own. His thumb swirled across the head of his cock, spreading the precum around the slit while the other hand massaged his balls, keeping them away from the body.

Ichigo’s hands clenched tightly against Renji’s chest, fingernails scraping skin, in reaction to the dual sensations as the tension coiled in a somewhat familiar pit. He pressed his body close against Renji’s, panting, “Haaa… Ren…”

Renji smirked and kissed at the bruised skin on the boy’s neck, his hands not stopping. “You wanna cum?”

“Stupid…question…” Ichigo nearly whimpered before biting his lip to fight back the rest of the noise. His hands plunged restlessly from Renji’s chest to the front of the man’s pants, pressing against the hardness there. “C’mon, Ren, move.”

Renji gasped and bucked his hips up as his hands faltered momentarily, then he jerked him a bit roughly as he resumed what he was doing.

Ichigo’s grin turned into a strangled moan as his head rolled back, his body arching, the tension coming to a peak and releasing against Renji’s hand.

The redhead grinned and kissed him before bringing up a cum-covered hand and licking it.

Ichigo shook his head. “Pervert…” he murmured, still wondering how he was still supporting himself, but that didn’t keep him from undoing Renji’s obi and pulling the fabric loose to run his hand teasingly up and down Renji’s navel, barely brushing his erect cock.

“Am I allowed to be super-corny and say ‘tastes like strawberries’?” Renji joked as he tried to keep his hip from grinding up against the hand. Frustrated, he muttered, “Goddamn fucking tease…”

Ichigo smirked. “If you do, I can tell ya right now my hand won’t go any lower…” He stroked his hand side to side, but he never moved any lower. His free hand reached up and pinched Renji’s nipple.

“Oooh,” Renji moaned. “Okay, not sayin’ it not sayin’ it – god, just fuckin’ touch me…!” He shivered as goosebumps ran across his body and his hips tried to grind up against the boy.

Ichigo smiled. “You should talk like that more often.” True to his word, his hands went lower, encircling Renji’s hard member and giving it a few experimental long strokes, feeling it twitch in his hand.

Renji moaned again. “Fuck – I’ll talk however you want me to if this is what it gets me.” He chuckled softly before kissing him and thrusting his hips up.

Ichigo kissed back hard, thrusting his tongue into Renji’s mouth, copying the motion with his hands as the picked up their stroking pace. Renji happily submitted to the dominance, his body twitching as the tension built up. Ichigo continued stroking underneath the head with one hand and the other snaked down and grasped his scrotum, rolling it in his palm. Renji’s reaction was to moan deeply against his lips before breaking the kiss to pant for air.

“Ichii…!”

Ichigo grinned, increasing the pressure and alternating between squeezing and stroking. “C’mon, Ren…”

Renji bit his lip to kill a building whimper. “God—I’m gonna—” His breathing hitched as the tension snapped and he spilled his release.

Ichigo kept stroking, drawing out Renji’s orgasm, as he kissed his neck. “Mmm… Don’t think I can lick it, though,” he murmured. He drew up his sticky hand to examine it.

Renji smirked and darted his tongue out, briefly flicking it across Ichigo’s hand. “I think yours tastes a bit better…”

“Well, you would know,” Ichigo said with a chuckle.

The redhead pulled him close and kissed him softly.

The boy’s eyes fluttered closed before he pulled back just enough to murmur, “No more vodka thoughts?”

“Mmm… At least not on top of a roof without ya?”

Ichigo chuckled ruefully. “I can’t believe we just did…that in Urahara’s house…”

“There are worse places, yanno.”

“Yeah… Guess I shouldn’t expect any romance, huh?” he smirked.

“You want romance? ’Cause I can do romance.”

Ichigo cocked an eyebrow. “This I gotta see…”

“How ’bout an actual date, then?”

He snorted. “What did you have in mind?”

To this, Renji grinned. “It’ll be a surprise. I’ll pick ya up an’ everythin’.”

“As long as you don’t let Rukia pick out your outfit,” he said, settling against Renji’s body.

“Heh, I think I learned my lesson on that front. But ya gotta dress nice, though, ’kay?”

“Are ya talking, nice no stains? Or nice tie and crap?”

“Nice…happy medium?”

“Alright…” Ichigo relented, very curious now.

Renji grinned and kissed him chastely, making him smile softly.

Bleach: No Reason - 7.Head Games

Mon, 05 Nov 2007 06:50:43 GMT

Title: Head Games
Author: Cykotyks
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo
Rating: PG
Genre: Drabble

Summary: Renji needs to stop listening to the S&M freak
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Thongs

Disclaimer: I no own and I make no money~
Word Count: ~343

Notes: Taken from a random RP between shizukashadow and me.

“Ichii, if I wore a leopard-print thong, would you still love me?”

Ichigo looked up from his homework and over his shoulder at the redhead sitting on his bed. “Would I have to look at it?” he asked with a frown.

Renji shifted uncomfortably, not meeting his boyfriend’s glare. “What if I wore it to bed? Would you still have sex with me?” he tried.

Ichigo’s eye twitched. “But why would you want to wear it?”

Renji looked down and didn’t answer. Ichigo was just about to turn back to his homework when the redhead spoke up. “What if Shuuhei dared me and I’m out a hundred dollars if you don’t find it sexy?”

“It’s only a hundred bucks,” Ichigo replied with a shrug.

Renji sighed and mumbled, “I’ll go sleep on the couch, then…”

The younger boy shook his head. “Well, think of it this way: I’d get ya outta your clothing a hell of a lot faster if it meant I got to take that thing off ya,” he said before adding in a mumble, “and throw it in the trash.”

Renji looked up, hardly suppressing his glee. “Please?” he asked excitedly. “It's starting to chafe…” he added, grinning sheepishly when Ichigo smacked his palm against his forehead in frustration.

“Why? Why why why why WHY?” Ichigo pleaded into his hand.

“Blame Shuuhei,” Renji supplied.

Ichigo glared at him through his fingers. “You’re the one that took the bet.”

“He told me you’d like it!”

Ichigo folded his arms across his chest. “Because it’s Shuuhei that knows what I like.”

Renji glanced away, muttering. “Well, he did teach me a lot of the stuff ya like…”

Ichigo continued to glare. “Not making me motivated to strip ya.

Renji panicked. “I’m extremely turned on right now. You just can’t see it because of the damn banana-hammock.”

The boy groaned. “Didn’t need that visual.”

“Ichiiiii…” Renji whined. “It’s starting to hurt…” he added in a small voice.

Ichigo rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You so owe me…” he relented.

Renji grinned wide.

Bleach: Fanart

Sat, 03 Nov 2007 04:57:01 GMT

Artist: Cykotyks
Pairing: 3 Renji/Ichigo, 1 Rory/Izzy
Rating: PG15

Disclaimer: Bleach is Kubo Tite's, the artwork is my own.

Simply click a thumbnail to see the full size.

Pencil: "So I'm Drunk"

Graph paper that was my math notes.
If you look, you can see that Renji's pants are undone =]

WIP: "Burnt Money"

Sketched from an opening scene in the movie "Burnt Money."
Hint: the only thing I changed between this and the original was the hair ;]

LineArt: "Happiest Place on Earth"

Graph paper; inked.
I'm just proud of how Renji's tattoos came out with the ink pens =]

WIP: "I'll Never Leave You"

The characters of Izzy and Rory are actually spawned from Ichigo and Renji (respectively). Basically, they are what shizukashadow and I believe their 1920's incarnations to be.
Forgive Izzy's transparent leg there...

Bleach: Fall Into You

Tue, 16 Oct 2007 03:00:44 GMT

Title: Fall Into You
Author: Cykotyks
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo [one-sided/unrequited]
Rating: PG13
Genre: Character Sketch

Summary: Renji muses on top of a building with alcohol [Renji-centric; character study regarding his relationship with Ichigo; concrit welcome and requested]
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Nothing major, except for excessive alcohol and angsting. And general unrequited RenjiIchigo love (I admit to cliche, but this isn't something you normally see from me). And it's not beta'd (so feel free to nitpick, too).

Disclaimer: Bleach is Kubo Tite's. Absolut Vodka is owned by V&S Group. The song "Because I Want You" is Placebo's.
Words: 1614

Notes: This is more of a character study than anything. If there's one thing I want gauged in the comments, it's how in character you think this is. If all you have to say amounts to no more than happy squealing because it's Renji or whatever, then don't bother. This is one of the few times that I'm specifically asking for constructive criticism, or even criticism in general. Be supportive, be cruel - I don't care as long as you're intelligent with what you have to say (ie, if you're going to berate me, at least point out specifics so I know you're a credible human being).
That being said, thank you for your time.

Fall Into You

Fall into you, is all I ever do.
When I hit the bottle,
'Cause I'm afraid to be alone.
Tear us in two,
Tear us in two.
Tear us in two...
Because I want you, too.

Renji knew he had a habit of getting annoying. He knew he could get clingy and whiny and needy, and he knew he could get obsessive and jealous and selfish. But he also knew that he had no right to demand people’s undivided attention like that. He knew that everybody was allowed to choose who they were with, who they befriended, who they shared secrets with, and who they shared their love with. He knew that he never owned anything, especially not anybody. He knew because even the one person whose attention he’d treasured had easily abandoned him.

Well, he knew it hadn’t been easy for her, but he still felt like he’d just been abandoned like some unwanted Christmas puppy. It had hurt, because the only person he had had left to trust had walked away, towards something bigger and better.

So he had wrapped up those feelings and put them in a box and buried them deep, not letting them be accessed so easily. No, those feelings were reserved, because he didn’t want to be hurt again. He focused on his goals and distanced himself from people as best as he could. He would not, could not let himself get attached, because then those feelings would resurface, and then he would only be hurt again.

Oh, sure, he got along well with those he could call friends. He laughed and joked and hung out with them, but there was always a distance. His problems were his alone, not theirs. He did not, would not confide in them, because trusting them with his emotions was the first step into those buried feelings, the first step between “a friend” and “his friend.” He trusted them with his life, but not with his heart. His heart was his alone, and he knew that his guardedness intrinsically pushed people away, kept them back at a point he was comfortable with. But people always wanted to get closer, and the more they tried, the more guarded he became, until they gave up and walked away, like he knew they would. That was the point. As long as he knew that they would leave, he could push them away before they left him. So it would be on his terms, his knowledge. He couldn’t be caught off guard again, because he was always expecting to be abandoned again.

But for the first time in a long time, that reassurance wasn’t helping to quell his frustrations. Three nights in a row, a certain berry-head hadn’t talked to him properly. A text message at around five that night, after he’d asked if he could call, told him that the boy would be out to dinner with his friends. Renji had innocently asked what time he’d be back, but only received a quick “dunno.”

Well, that’s fine, he’d told himself. He has other friends. He’ll talk to me when he gets back. So Renji had patiently waited, busying himself to ignore the vicious voices in his head, suggesting that Ichigo was tired of his pestering, annoyed with his cries for attention, fed up with his neediness.

But now nine-thirty, Renji had nothing left to do, and the voices were starting to convince him that Ichigo was abandoning him, just like everybody else. So he steeled himself, told himself that he knew it would happen, that he was fine with it. But he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t fine with it. He’d been trying to ignore it, but he knew he’d gotten too close. Those feelings were resurfacing, and it was getting harder and harder for him to swallow his jealousy. But he couldn’t just set the boy back to the edge of his comfort zone – no, that would just torment him to no end. It was all or nothing, except he couldn’t bring himself to shut Ichigo out of his life completely. He couldn’t push him away. And every time Ichigo came back after straying away with pieces of his heart, Renji gladly accepted him – unquestioningly, unconditionally accepted him again, completely elated by the simple act of being talked to again by this boy.

This boy, who would never know that he and he alone was close enough to the redhead’s heart to break it for the second, and possibly last time.

But now it was midnight as Renji sat on the edge of a tall building, losing himself in the dark blanket of twinkling lights as he nursed a half-empty bottle of vanilla Absolut. He welcomed the numbness, and started to entertain amusingly morbid thoughts; I wonder what would happen if I fell… he asked himself, looking down to the nearly empty street below. Am I too drunk to remember how to save myself? Or would it just be instinctual? Could I keep from doing it and just let myself fall? He tilted his head to the side before tipping back another drink of alcohol. If I fell from this height, would I pass out before I hit the ground? Or would I stay conscious until I’m splattered across the sidewalk? Would I feel it? Would it hurt?

He sighed, pushing away the thoughts of “what hurts worse,” and set the bottle down before taking out his communicator. He flipped it open, knowing there was nothing, but doing it out of habit. There were no hollows out tonight. There was no message from the shinigami substitute. There was nothing except the bottle. Still, he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the text message button.

He can text me if he cares, he thought bitterly as he shut the phone with an angry snap and tucked it back where it belonged. But the bitterness didn’t hold – it never did. He reminded himself that Ichigo had a life as a human and didn’t always have time to spend on somebody so relatively far removed from that life of his. He was auxiliary, secondary, just as Ichigo’s life as a shinigami was.

But, of course, still being in the boy’s peripheral was what put him on a yo-yo of emotions. If only Ichigo left and never came back. If only he never saw or heard from the boy again. Then, maybe, he could stitch the wounds closed and lock away the emotions again, tighter this time, bury them deeper. He could forget again – he’d done it once before, after all. He refused to entertain the thought that Ichigo was different than Rukia, that the feelings were different.

No, that couldn’t be, because there was no such thing as “soul mates,” there was merely attraction and care, and there was always the chance of finding that “love” again in somebody else. There couldn’t be anything like “destiny” or “fate” playing into it because that would mean that he had no choice in the matter, and he desperately needed that choice to run. But could he take it? That was the issue. He told himself that he could repair the wounds if Ichigo was the one to walk away – he could, because he’d already convinced himself that Ichigo was doing just that – but could he live with himself if he was the one to run?

Dear god, I’m a coward… he sighed, burying his face in his hands. He was so content with standing still, with not taking that risk. He was content, as masochistic as it was, to simply stand there and let his emotions be unwittingly toyed with. He was content with the pain and the frustration, because the one tearing him apart was content with where they were – as long as, of course, if he never knew what he was doing to the man on the inside. He couldn’t take the step forward because he was so afraid of Ichigo running away – it was one thing to be abandoned, quite another entirely to be rejected. But he couldn’t take the step back, either, because he was afraid of hurting Ichigo, too – he couldn’t bring himself to inflict that pain on someone so young.

So he would stay still, keeping the status quo out of nothing but fear. Ichigo would have to make the first move, and, like the stray dog he was, he would follow suit. He would not abandon someone who would not abandon him, nor would he cling to someone who would not want him. He was a stray, yes – guarded, untrusting, uncouth – but he was also a dog – unquestioningly, unconditionally loyal. He just had to find the right person to take him in, the person who would understand him. And the more time Renji spent around him, the more and more he was convinced that Ichigo was this person – the person he would willingly roll over for – and the harder it was getting for him to stay still. But he did, because it had to be Ichigo’s call.

And if Ichigo never made the call, Renji would stay still until eternity. Or until the alcohol kills me, if that’s even possible, he sighed, knocking back several mouthfuls of the burning liquid. Just a few shots were left to swirl around at the bottom of the bottle. Were he human, he would’ve passed out by now, thrown up long before, and pissed his pants several times for lack of a bathroom. But he wasn’t, and decades upon decades of hard drinking had raised his tolerance for the drink. Even so, he knew he was drunk – his eyelids where getting difficult to keep open, and his vision refused to focus.

The last thing he felt before passing out was the sensation of falling.

Bleach: In the Closet

Fri, 31 Aug 2007 20:02:52 GMT

Title: In the Closet
Author: Cykotyks
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo
Rating: R/NC-17
Genre: Humor, PWP

Summary: Hasty actions make for interesting situations.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: AU, idiocy, language, only half-beta'd

Disclaimer: Bleach is Kubo Tite's, this story is mine, and the Global Disclaimer pertains to this
Word Count: 1732

Notes: Even though I don't have anything specifically for Renji's birthday (SHAME ON ME D:), consider this my contribution to the debauchery :D Happy Birthday, Renji~!

It’s not supposed to be like this… Ichigo thought hopelessly as the hand clamped over his mouth made it hard for him to control his erratic breathing. The bodies were too close, the temperatures too high, the pulses too fast.

This was supposed to be a fight, and instead, his adversary had rightfully panicked upon hearing the echoing rabble of an approaching class and hastily pulled them both into a cramped and pitch-black janitor’s closet. Now, as they stood frozen, straining to hear the last dying echoes of the class, Renji had one arm braced across Ichigo’s chest, the free hand tight against his mouth, and the rest of his body pressed up against the other’s keeping him flat against the wall. It wasn’t until Ichigo stopped worrying about being caught that he felt something peculiar pressing against him.

One small shift in his hips and Renji’s involuntary twitch confirmed it. And everything started racing again. Hot breath against his neck was his only warning before unexpectedly soft lips brushed the hypersensitive skin. Renji took Ichigo’s small, throaty groan as a good sign and touched down, making his way down to Ichigo’s exposed collarbone before biting. Ichigo yelped, muffled by Renji’s hand, and squirmed, forcing the taller man away from him as hips ground torturously together.

Ichigo panted, catching his breath now that it was free from Renji’s hand. He didn’t bother asking what the hell that was – they both felt it, and it would’ve taken a blind fool not to see it. Instead, he stepped forward, groping for Renji’s form in the unrelenting darkness. His hand was caught in another in midair.

“Can you see?” Ichigo asked softly, surprised by Renji’s accuracy.

“Better’n you, obviously,” Renji replied, his voice low and husky. “Want me to find a light?”

Ichigo hesitated for just a beat. “No. You lead.”

Renji needed no further provocation, as he shoved the smaller boy back against the wall and attacked his mouth with a dominating ferocity Ichigo all at once wanted to submit to and yet wanted to tame. For now, though, he’d stick with the former, letting Renji take the reins to have his way with Ichigo’s rather traitorous body. Cold, deft fingers felt their way up under the formfitting tanktop, blunt fingertips pressing against spots that made him writhe as they crawled up his chest, pushing the shirt up to expose taut abs.

Ichigo tried to keep his eyes open wide, hoping for what little light that snuck in under the door to reach them, but almost as soon as Renji started touching him, they fluttered closed, then shut tight as Renji moved higher, subconsciously shifting their hips against each other with blissful friction. Ichigo hesitantly ran his hands up Renji’s stomach and chest before his fingers brushed against the skin of Renji’s neck, over tattoos Ichigo couldn’t see but knew were there – tattoos that had fascinated him since he’d first noticed them.

Renji felt a chill down his spine as Ichigo’s fingertips perfectly traced the inked lines up to his pulled-back hair, where they suddenly fumbled to tug at the tie, which came free a moment later, sending a cascade of crimson that Ichigo could only feel brush against his hands and arms like strands of cold silk. On impulse, Ichigo’s splayed fingers skated upwards roughly against Renji’s scalp before fisting them in the silken treasure and crushing their mouths together again as he pulled the redhead to him.

Renji moaned. “Fuck…that hurts…” he breathed against Ichigo’s lips.

“Complaining?” Ichigo breathed back, splaying his fingers once more to run across Renji’s scalp, this time removing the bandanna in the process.

The redhead moaned low again and retaliated with a twist to Ichigo’s nipple. The boy’s subsequent yelp was muffled in Renji’s lips, but there was nothing to stop him from thrusting his hips forward and digging his blunt nails into Renji’s scalp.

“Fuck – just do something already!” Ichigo whined, momentarily forgetting where they were.

“Let go of my head and I will,” Renji replied, his voice low, husky, and stressed to keep level.

Ichigo complied by running his fingers through the length of the red locks before letting his hands fall to his sides. By that time, Renji’s fingertips had trailed down the center of Ichigo’s chest and stomach and were teasing his navel before they fell to the belt around Ichigo’s waist. With a little difficulty, he got it undone and out of the belt loops.

“Turn around,” he commanded.

“Wait – what’re you gonna do?”

“You keep your hands on my head and yer gonna choke me. You wanted me to do something, didn’t ya? Don’t worry, it’s not gonna be tight. Y’can pull it loose if ya try.”

“Promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Ichigo had to agree with that, so he turned around and Renji held his arms stacked across each other against his back before wrapping the cloth belt around them and tucking it under itself without even tying a knot.

“That okay?” Renji asked as he turned Ichigo back around.

“Don’t we need like a—a safeword or somethin’ for shit like this?”

“Not unless you can say ‘banana’ with a bandanna in yer mouth.”

“Why…”

“Because you scream, idiot. And I can make you scream pretty fucking long and loud if I wanna. Not sure if that’d make up for being caught and publicly executed in the quad, though,” he chuckled.

“You’d make a nice hanged man.”

“I had beheadings in mind, actually.”

“Okay – really feel weird being this horny with your morbidity.”

“Get used to it,” Renji chuckled again as he kissed the smaller boy once more before replacing his mouth with the knotted end of his bandanna. “You can bite down on this or you can bite down on your own lip,” he said when Ichigo hesitated. Obediently, he bit down on the fabric with a grunt of resignation. “Hey,” Renji breathed against Ichigo’s neck, “when we get to do this in a more private place, I’ll let ya bite me instead.” Ichigo growled, which either could’ve meant ‘shut up’ or ‘fuck yes.’ Whatever it was, a harsh thrust of his hips indicated clearly enough what he wanted at the moment.

Renji didn’t hesitate. He pulled up Ichigo’s shirt and trailed sloppy kisses down his front, dipping his tongue in his navel, and licking teasingly at the fine strawberry-blond hairs that trailed from the bellybutton past his jeans’ waistband. Fumbling a bit in uncertainty, Renji undid the button and zipper before tugging the pants down a bit. Experimenting fingers trailed across Ichigo’s erection through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a muffled groan from their owner. Renji smirked and undid the button, freeing the boy’s needy member with all-too-gentle fingers. Ichigo thrust forward, trying to press into his hand, but Renji simply braced his free arm across his waist, pinning him down.

Ichigo groaned into the bandanna, and a small thought in the back of his mind briefly wondered when he’d gotten so vocal, but the curiosity was soon forgotten as Renji shifted, placing both hands at Ichigo’s hips, keeping him against the wall, and those soft lips gently kissed his head. Ichigo bit down hard on the bandanna and shut his eyes again as his body adjusted to the new sensations with a shiver up his spine and a familiar tug in his gut. Slowly, those lips slid past the head and down, and his tongue pressed hard against the tip before rubbing along the shaft. It was all Ichigo could do to only whimper, biting down hard enough that he was sure he’d have broken his teeth if it weren’t for the fabric between them.

Renji chuckled softly, feeling Ichigo trying to writhe under his hands, the reverberations only serving to make it worse. The squirming, the whimpering – Renji just hummed as he sucked gently on Ichigo’s erection, content with giving his best friend and worst enemy just a little taste of his talents.

“Ren…ji…” Ichigo whined, the named muffled and obscured by the cloth. He could almost feel Renji’s grin against the sensitive skin, and he shuddered as teeth gently scraped along up it. There was a low whimpering noise that took him a second to realize was coming from him, just before he felt the familiar plunge in his stomach. “Renji…!”

Renji rubbed his thumbs against Ichigo’s hot skin, knowing what was coming. With another muffled whimper and attempted thrust, Ichigo came in his mouth. Renji swallowed the hot substance, careful not to make a mess, and let go after he’d milked every last drop from him. He stood up again and gently tugged on the bandanna. Slowly, Ichigo’s jaw slackened to release it.

“Did you… You fucking swallowed it?” Ichigo panted.

“I’m sorry, did you want your shit over everything?” Renji retorted, reaching behind the other to untie the belt.

Once his hands were free, he tucked himself back in and pulled up his pants. “That’s just…it’s gross, isn’t it?”

“It’s preferable to gettin’ hit in the face with it. I’ve swallowed worse,” he stated, handing Ichigo his belt back.

“You… You’re gross.” He fumbled a bit, trying to guide the belt back through the loops.

Renji grinned and kissed him once more, knowing the salty taste was still in his mouth.

Ichigo almost immediately shoved him back. “That’s sick—fucking bastard!”

“Hey! You’re lucky I ain’t makin’ ya blow me!” Renji growled.

Ichigo hesitated. “You want me to?”

“You’ll just make a mess. Fucking amateur.”

“Fuck you!”

“Gladly. Just not in a janitor’s closet.”

Ichigo swung at him, only to have him block the awkward punch, open the door, and shove him out. Renji followed and shut the door behind him as Ichigo staggered upright, blinded at the moment by the sudden light.

“Fucking asshole!” Ichigo snapped, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“You missed a belt loop.”

“Huh?” He looked down, only to have Renji smack him upside the head. “Ow! Fuck!” He glared at the redhead. “Y’know, just ’cause you can’t get your rocks off doesn’t mean you hafta take it out on me!” He paused. “Not like this, anyway,” he added.

“Is that permission to fuck you senseless?” Renji grinned.

Ichigo shoved him, just as a campus supervisor rounded the corner.

“You boys have a hall pass?”

ENGL M10A // Assignment #1: "Poetry"

Sun, 26 Aug 2007 22:22:18 GMT

Title: Forbidden Fruit
Author: Cy (cykotyks)
Category: Original Work
Rating: G/PG
Genre: Poetry
Length: 10 lines

Disclaimer: This work is my own. Please do not steal.
Notes: Constructive Criticism requested; see A/N below.

"Forbidden Fruit"

Stolen minutes in the shadows.
Secret hours through the night.
Discreet glances and inside jokes.
Hasty kisses and furtive touches.
The fear of desire.
The risk of passion.
Telling lies with flushed faces.
Caught red-handed without regrets.
The allure of the first sin,
Something so wrong, yet so sweet.

We were given a prompt to write/present a poem that didn't rhyme, was preferably less than half a page, and wasn't about "true/romantic love, sunsets on the beach, or dying of cancer" (quoting my teacher). With some help from Shizuka, I came up with this.

I'd like to hear what you think of this, your interpretations, the impressions you get, images you see - anything. Give me whatever comes to mind.
This is going to be read in my class on Tuesday (8/28), and I want to see how your opinions compare to the opinions of my classmates.

Bleach: 100 Drabbles - Renji/Ichigo

Tue, 24 Jul 2007 00:27:31 GMT

Title: 100 Reasons Why
Author: Cykotyks
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo
Rating: anywhere from G/K to R/M
Genre: Drabbles

Summary: Done as an unofficial claim for the drabbles100 comm.
Spoilers: None so far
Warnings: These range from idiotic to sappy to angsty...

Disclaimer: I don't own and I make no money~

Notes: Told from Ichigo's POV to Renji (unless otherwise noted).
23 is set before everything else (specifically, during the war)
38 and 39 are R-rated smut (what else did you expect with prompts like that?!)
67 has a slight reference to the lyrics in Rilo Kiley's "Portions For Foxes"
78 thru 80 were written while I was sick, hence...everything.

Shortest: "Beginnings" @ 46 words
Longest: "Sunrise" @ 312 words

1. Beginnings (Words: 46)

It starts with his mouth – always with a kiss. It’s always started with a kiss. Everything started with his mouth. His words— teases— insults— encouragements, his smiles— grins— smirks, his frowns— pouts – everything. He— that mouth— started everything. So it’s only right to start there.

2. Middles (Words: 112)

The black markings are a map. Down his neck or up his arms, down his chest and to his stomach. He teases people who stare at them when he’s got his shirt off – asks them if they want to see how far down they go. They end at his stomach – at his bellybutton. I’m not the only one who knows, but I’m the only one who knows just how sensitive those tattoos are, and how sensitive his middle is. He tells me I’m the only person who ever gave any attention to his bellybutton. I tell him it’s because it’s right in the middle of the way to his heart.

3. Ends (Words: 74)

He likes my butt. He says so all too often. And even if he didn’t say it, I’d be able to tell with how often he sticks his hands in my back pockets for no reason at all and his affinity for prep’ing me with his hands and mouth. I say he’s got a weird fetish. He says if I cared, I’d stop wearing “tight-ass jeans.”

Needless to say, I haven’t stopped wearing them.

4. First (Words: 94)

He’s my first…everything. First guy, first kiss, first fuck… First love. First boyfriend. First major fight. First foe-turned-friend. First training partner. First comrade. “First” has stopped looking like a word… He’s still first, too. Sappy and girly, but true – he’s the first thing I think about, the first person I turn to, the first in my heart— yeah, I’m crossing an ego line there, even if it is true. I guess I can’t help it – I don’t think I’m supposed to help it. But what do I know? I’m new to this.

5. Last (Words: 96)

He scares me sometimes when he gets to talking when he’s drunk or on that post-sex euphoria. He says I’m the last one. The very last – that’s all he says as he’s clinging to me like a lost child (yes, even in the bar he does this). It took a few tries, but I finally got him to tell me. The last what?

“The last person I’ll ever love. You’re…everything. If I can’t love you, I won’t love anybody else.”

“Idiot… Not being able to love me should be the last worry on your mind.”

6. Hours (Words: 160)

One hour. It’s been one hour since he’s sent me a text message. It’s not like I’m worried or like…really paying attention. I just happened to notice is all…

Two hours. Okay, now I’m paying attention. But I’m not worried. Or being paranoid. Or asking myself what the fuck he’s doing that he can’t send me a dorky text message. I’m not. I swear.

Three hours. What the hell?! He knows I hate work and he knows his text messages are the only things that keep me from cracking my skull open on the countertop.

Four hours. I ride home grumpy. Okay, it’s not like I told him to send me text messages, but he knows I like them…right? Of course he knows.

He also knows that I like seeing him in an apron, and he knows I like chocolate, and he knows I like cake…and fuck how could I stay mad at him when he’s a mess like that?

7. Days (Words: 92)

It’s only four days. I keep telling myself that. Four days without the redheaded, loveable lump of annoying (articulation, thy name is not Ichigo).

“Geeze, I haven’t even left yet and you’re already moping?”

“I’m not moping – I’m trying to remember how to make one serving of spaghetti instead of two.”

He taps the side of my head with the back of his hand. “Just don’t have too much fun with your hands while I’m gone.”

I smack his leering face with the pillow. “I can survive four days without sex!”

8. Weeks (Words: 94)

Two weeks, two weeks. For some reason, it keeps bouncing around in my head. Two weeks? Until what? I can’t figure it out. It’s confusing me. I’m so distracted now thinking about it that I don’t even realize he’s trying to talk to me until he snaps:

“Oi! Berry-head!”

My head snaps up and I’m blinking owlishly at him, confused. “Huh?”

He just snorts. “Geeze – it’s been a while since I’ve had to use that name to get your attention…”

Oh. Yeah. It’s been two weeks since I’ve beat on him for it.

9. Months (Words: 179)

“Has it really been that long?” he muses as he lounges on the couch.

“Well, that depends on what you consider the ‘start’ of this dysfunctional relationship,” I say from the table as I work on a sudoku puzzle.

“And you’re going with…?”

“The night we asked each other what the fuck this was,” I say, waving my pen between us.

He seems perplexed for a moment. “That was that long ago?”

I nod deliberately, as if dealing with a slow child.

He frowns. “Why not the first time we kissed? Or fucked? Or, if you’re really gonna get girly about this, the first time we said it?”

“For one, the kissing and the fucking started for a completely different reason. And the first time you said ‘I love you’ outright was three weeks ago.”

He mulls this over for a second before he sits up, looking at me in half-realization, half-accusation. “That night was the first time you topped!”

I throw the pen at his face. “And you haven’t let me again in the six months since!”

10. Years (Words: 74)

“Five years since I first saw your face. Four years since the war started and we first fucked. Three years since the war ended. Two years since we first made love, came out to everybody, and moved in together. And one year…”

“One year since we got married in Soul Society.”

“And in five more years, we’ll have ten years together.”

“Ten years since ‘love at first sight’.”

He snorts. “You’re really gay sometimes…”

11. Red (Words: 132)

His head is in my lap, the long red hair strewn across my bare legs. It’s thick and soft and running my fingers through it puts him to sleep. He looks so relaxed – almost stoned. It’s cute, really. I lean down and press my lips against his. I feel him kiss back and I pull away, teasing him. Our eyes lock and I’m close enough to see the details in his; they’re a warm brown to anybody just seeing, but if you really look, they’re reddish-brown, like a rich rosewood. And as I stare, they slowly turn warmer, as if on fire.

It’s not long before his face and body are flushed and marked in all sorts of reds. And I can feel that I’m just as red as he is.

12. Grey (Words: 141)

“It’s one hair, Ren.”

“And then it’ll be two, and then three, and soon I’ll have a head full of them!”

I sigh and rake my fingers across his scalp again, trying to calm down his paranoia. Honestly – one little hair and the man thinks the world’s going to end. “You can always color it if it bothers you so much.”

“Do they sell my hair color?”

“Yeah – it’s by Sharpie.”

“That’s not fuckin’ funny, Ichii.”

“Or you can follow Ikkaku’s route and just shave it all off…”

“Fuck no! I like my hair, thank you very much!”

“Then the next time you find one fucking grey hair on your head, do me a favor and pull it out instead of screaming blood murder.”

“And miss out on this treatment?”

I tug on a few strands, making him yelp.

13. White (Words: 151)

I cannot stand the color white. Even before Shirosaki, even before being a shinigami, I never liked the color. Pure white. Something about it…frightens me. Like just my mere presence will soil it. Somehow, by being around it, it’ll lose its whiteness and never be as pure as it was.

Renji pulls my half-drunk self into his lap and just holds me in silence for a minute.

“If you take a white shirt out of the closet, it’s bound to get dirty – everything does, but it just shows more on white. So when the white shirt gets dirty, you use bleach to get it white again. It’s not the same pure white as it was when it was new, but it’s close. Souls are the same way. But you’re not the dirt that clings to it, Ichii – if anything, you’re the bleach that gets us white and pure again.”

14. Black (Words: 101, Renji’s POV)

I think the scariest thing I know is what happens when his eyes go black. He tells me that it’s fine, it’s under control, but that doesn’t stop me from being afraid. Not of him, but for him. He confides in me that the power and his precarious hold on it frighten him, too. He tells me of the first time he lost control, of the black abyss his consciousness had been plunged into, and how lost and unbalanced he felt when he finally came to, the brightness blinding him again. The black in his eyes, he says, scares him, too.

17. Brown (Words: 98, Renji's POV)

I love watching his eyes – they’re the most expressive part of him. When he’s pissed, they get cold and dark, nearly black. When he’s happy, they light up, bright and warm brown. And the emotions only I know of – you wouldn’t believe how many different shades and tones those brown eyes can take. My favorite, though, is the look he gets after sex – his eyes are big and shining and he’s looking at me with all the love in the world. His eyes are the exact shade of melted chocolate, and it just melts my heart.

19. Pink (Words: 119, Renji's POV)

I don’t care what the idiot says – he’s the only guy I know who manages to make pink look good. And as a general statement, I don’t much care for pink. But when he wears those pink-rimmed glasses or one of his pink shirts or the pink boxers – fuck, I just wanna pounce him right there. But I’ve got my own weapon, and I can get him to wear the one pink he hates. It doesn’t take much either – a few choice words or the right tone of voice or a simple nudge or gesture, and the guy instantly blushes.

Not that I’m saying that doesn’t always backfire – after all, he makes it look damn good.

23. Lovers (Words: 130)

We’re arguing again. About everything and nothing. We’re both stressed and at the edge. We don’t even know what we’re saying – we’re just yelling, somehow forming words and sentences at the last second. We can’t fight with our swords – not when the spirits need their rest even more than we do. But suddenly he’s getting physical – and not with punches. He kisses me, angry and rough. I don’t think I even hesitate a split second before I’m tearing at his clothes and he’s tearing at mine.

Later, as we lay in his bed, naked and covered in bruises, bites, and scratches, the question wanders into my sleepy mind: Are we lovers?

The answer is hesitant, but easy: No. We’re just two men who recognized a mutual outlet.

24. Family (Words: 113)

My family has always been a bit on the strange side. Even my mother, who was normal compared to my father, was a bit eccentric and quirky. I’ve tried my best to seem normal, but I’ve come to love the way my family is. I love the way my dad is a complete nutter but still the best father we could hope for. I love my sisters, too, and always have (and even though she tries her best to hide it, Karin loves our family, too). And the newest addition, of course – I love him more than anything. And nothing makes me happier than knowing that my family all loves each other.

25. Strangers (Words: 79)

“Renji—stop. Let go of me.”

“Huh? But I ain’t doin’ nothin’…”

“Please?”

He screws up his face, wondering what could possibly make me ask please, of all things. Then he notices the other passengers in the train car who were, until just a moment ago, giving us dirty looks. “You know them?”

“No, but—”

He grunts, but instead of heeding my request, he just wraps his arms around me. “Then fuck them and whatever the hell they think.”

26. Teammates (Words: 81)

There’s having a partner in love, and then there’s having a partner in everything else as well. And I don’t know if that’s what makes us so aware and understanding of each other, but whether he is my iihito, my kareshi, or my nakama, my aite, nothing changes between us. He is my partner – my lover, my boyfriend, my best friend, my companion, my teammate, my comrade – and that is probably the best gift this relationship has given us.

•iihito=sweetheart/lover •kareshi=boyfriend/lover •nakama=friend/teammate •aite=companion/partner (can also mean opponent/adversary)

27. Parents (Words: 116)

I wander along the walkway, looking around at the surrounding scenery. It’s a peaceful place, and virtually empty. I slow down and stop in front of the headstone engraved with my mother’s name and epitaph.

“Ohayo, okaa-san,” I say softly, sitting down. I feel eight years old again, telling her about what happened at school or the dojo, so it’s no surprise that I start out telling her about my day and how I’ve been. I complain about Dad and all sorts of other things. When I pause awkwardly in my ramblings, I take a deep breath and let it out through my nose in a self-calming sigh. “I met this guy a few years ago…”

28. Children (Words: 107)

I lean against the railing of the crib, watching the little baby sleep. She’s got black hair like her father, but I’m betting it’ll grow like her mother’s. I smile as I remember seeing my baby sisters for the first time. At that time, I never understood why my mother called them beautiful, but now I can see – not that I can explain.

“Godfather, eh?” Renji asks softly, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder. I nod slowly, still watching Orihime and Uryuu’s baby girl. Renji is silent for a few moments. “Whaddaya think our kids would look like?”

“Psychotic.”

30. Death (Words: 276)

There are certain days now that he’s not himself. I know why it is, what his problem is, but I don’t say anything. I can’t. It’s not fair to him, dredging up things he’s not ready to face. I let him go, let him do what he needs to and I support him, because I don’t have a better answer. Whether it’s holding his hair back as he throws up a nights worth of heavy drinking, or letting him fuck me however he wants to – I do it, because I don’t know what else I can do.

So when the anniversary of her death comes, I’m not surprised when I feel him crawling on top of me in the middle of the night. He knows I’m awake, but he stops, hovering over me. I look up, rolling over, and that’s when I notice that he’s shaking.

“Renji…?” My voice seems to break him, because that’s when he sobs and I feel water drip onto my skin – tears. And that scares me. “Renji, calm down,” I say gently, reaching up and running my fingers through his hair. He’s crying silently, and I can feel him trembling. I pull him down without much resistance and hold him against my chest, not saying anything as he weeps. He curls up against me, clinging to me as he finds a more comfortable position, tucking his head under my chin like I would do. And we lay there, with him crying in my arms. I don’t say anything, because I’m starting to understand – he’s not dealing with the pain of losing her, he’s dealing with the pain of healing.

31. Sunrise (Words: 312)

I know Renji isn’t one for stupid romantic shit like watching the sun rise together, but I just once wanna do it. Just to see what all the hype is about.

The only thing was that I didn’t exactly wanna do it when we were so fucking lost in the middle of nowhere and arguing more so than usual. But here we are, driving around some backwater country road without so much as a compass in the middle of the night.

My eyes are threatening to close, so I pull off the road at some “scenic point,” set the car in park, and kill the engine.

“What’re you doin’?” Renji grumbles, having dozed off a bit in his seat.

“Camping – what’s it look like, dipshit?” I grumble, folding my arms across the top of the steering wheel and leaning my head against them. Now that we’ve stopped, my body is crying for a more horizontal orientation. When I hear him grunt irritably, I lift my head. “I’m about two seconds from passing out, Renji. I can’t drive like this. Just let me rest for a bit and we can move on.”

“Yeah, alright.”

When I wake up again, it’s because Renji’s shaking me by the shoulder and calling my name.

“’The fuck you want?” I groan.

“Get your sappy ass up, ’cause I ain’t gonna be this nice about it again,” he says before he gets out of the car.

I rub at my eyes and see what he’s talking about – the sky’s tinting lighter and lighter as I sit there. I get out and join him, leaning against the car and against him. “I thought you hated sunrises?”

“I was already awake,” he says with a shrug.

I don’t care. I still don’t know what everybody else is hyped up about on it, but I won’t forget that morning.

36. Smell (Words: 69)

I bury my nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He’s just back from a mission and he’s tired and sweaty, so I simply stand there, drinking in the smell. He’s long since stopped trying to understand this weird habit of mine, but that doesn’t stop him from acting annoyed.

“Ichii, let me shower, will ya?”

I grin and nip playfully at his neck. “Sure.”

37. Sound (Words: 106)
Normally, I wouldn’t call myself a very vocal person. And before Renji, there was no reason to question it. I yelled, sure, and was loud and threatening when the time was right, and tended to make snide comments and rude remarks. But vocal? Nah. You’d be hard pressed to get a sound out of me from an injury or anything.

That all changed with Renji. The slightest touches have me whimpering, his teases leave me begging, and when he’s on his game, he can have me screaming and crying long and loud – and the greatest thing that disturbs me? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

38. Touch (Words: 205 (Sentences: 2))

His fingers are absolutely maddening. While my arms are tied above my head, unable to return the favors, those fingers are toying with every part of my body they can find, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, his lips and teeth and tongue are in on the action as well, torturing me, as he licks at a few erogenous spots, making me squirm and whimper and I know it’s what he’s aiming for and I’m fucking helpless and can’t do anything but obey because now those fingers are traveling down my arms and sides and he licks and blows on my nipples and I’m shaking, trying not to squirm too much before he travels down lower and his tongue traces my abs and dips in my bellybutton and I can’t help but writhe under him and it doesn’t stop as his fingers travel to my crotch and stroke my dick and I feel the whimpers and the pleas for more welling up in my chest but I just can’t give him that satisfaction—not yet—not until his fingers are massaging my sack and the tip of his tongue is running up my hard-on do I allow myself to beg and holy fuck does he oblige.

39. Taste (Words: 156)

I love every taste about him. I taste the taiyaki on his lips when I kiss him, and I taste his sweat as I mark his neck and chest, and I taste the wonderful intoxication that is him as my mouth closes over the tip of his erection. I dip my tongue in the slit, tasting the weeping precum before I take him fully in my mouth, running my tongue hard against the underside. He’s gasping and panting my name and attempting to get a coherent sentence out and I know he’s going to come soon. I let him go and blow gently on the weeping tip, reveling in his strangled cry of frustration. Impatient as well, I take him again and immediately deep-throat him and swallow against him. He cries my name and comes violently in my mouth, but I’m used to it, and I’m not about to waste a drop of that wonderful taste.

52. Fire (Words: 192)

There are certain things that you first notice about him – the red hair, the well-built body, the tattoos. He comes off as wild, and he is. He has a fiery spirit – one that doesn’t like to be tamed. He’s a blazing inferno. You can’t tame him and he doesn’t want to be tamed.

At least, that’s the impression he gives. He acts independent, fearless – devil-may-care. He’s abrasive and ungentle, and you wonder who could love this guy, this untamed spirit.

But I know the truth. I know his fears. I know the look he gets when he just wants to break down. I know him, when he doesn’t want to be that blazing, unstoppable inferno anymore, when he’s just a flickering flame on a candle – tiny, warm, and fragile. I know how to comfort him, to protect and nurture that flickering flame so that in the morning, he’s back to his old self, burning everything in his path like nothing could go wrong. But I know, because I’m the one he lets hold him – the only one. After all, a candle’s flame can only aid a single loving person.

66. Rain (Words: 123)

He’s soaked from head to toe. He lost his hair-tie somewhere along the way and the red strands are dripping down his back and shoulders and in his face. The t-shirt clings to him like a second skin, showing off the muscle definition and a faint outline of his tattoos. His jeans aren’t much better.

I know I’m staring. He knows I’m staring.

“Get caught in the rain?” I ask, doing my best you-SO-don’t-look-extremely-fuckable-right-about-now impression.

“Little bit,” he says with a short nod, looking down at himself. “Wanna help me outta these wet clothes?”

I don’t ask if he wants some dry ones, because he’s not going to be getting into them any time soon.

67. Snow (Words: 109)

If there’s one thing Seireitei winter has going for it, it’s the snow. Back home, even in backwater little Karakura, fresh snow only stays fresh for about five minutes. In Seireitei, it’s fresh for days. And it’s a few good feet of it.

Which I suppose is the reason Renji and I ended up in a snow fight. No, not a snowball fight – a snow fight. Which is basically our normal tackling and wrestling and whatnot, but in the snow.

And like normal fighting, it leads to kissing.

And the kissing leads to touching.

And the touching…

Well, it’ll be a few months before the “snow” jokes get old.

68. Lightning (Words: 146)

He wakes me up in the middle of the night and tells me to throw something warm on. He won’t say what for, but he’s excited about it. My sleepy mind groggily stumbles through a variety of stupid reasons as I pull on yesterday’s jeans and tug a sweatshirt on over my bare chest. Nothing makes sense.

On his motorbike, I’m clinging to him, hoping that this is well worth the freezing ride. He slows down and I can smell the sea.

“Look over there, Ichii,” he calls over the noise of the sea and the motor.

I open my eyes and turn my head. All along the horizon, flashes of lightning light up and crack the purple sky. Renji pulls over on the seaward side and kills the engine. We stay there for a good few hours, just watching the phenomenon in each other’s arms.

69. Thunder (Words: 153)

For the most part, I’ve got no problem with thunderstorms. For the most part. The few times when I do have a problem with them are usually when the thunderstorm is right on top of me and the lighting is hitting things – when it’s not gentle rolling thunder, but viciously loud cracks and explosive sounds.

That scares me shitless.

So when the lighting hits something and the angry snap of thunder sounds like it’s right outside the window, I bolt upright in bed, my breathing shallow and my body trembling, as if I’m expecting the next strike to hit the house and make it explode.

“It’ll pass, Ichii,” Renji mumbles from beside me.

I calm considerably at the sound of his voice. After a pause, I lie back down and curl up against him. I guess I can deal with this fear if he’s willing to take care of the scaredy-cat.

74. Dark (Words: 182)

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking powerout. Right as I get out of the shower, too. I guess it could’ve been worse. But still. I’m in nothing but a towel fumbling my way around the apartment because somebody (namely the boyfriend what annoyeth the HELL out of me) forgot to check the batteries in the flashlight in the hallway.

Somehow, I make it to the bedroom without serious injury. Well, that is, until aforementioned boyfriend rear-ends me like a fucking semi.

“Ow—fuck!” he yelps. From the way he sounds, he probably ended up cutting his lip (not that the painful bruise I can feel forming on the back of my head gives that way, no sirree).

“You okay?” I grumble, rubbing the back of my head.

Renji doesn’t answer for a moment, so I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel his fingers ghost over my bare stomach. “I dunno,” he drawls childishly and I know what’s coming next, so I cut him off with a kiss, tasting blood from the cut on his lip.

Sex in pitch-black darkness. Fucking win.

78. Disease (Words: 56)

It's not…a horrible cough. Really.

“Dude, don’t die on me.”

Okay, maybe it is a little bad…

“It’s not contagious, is it?”

My boyfriend, the insensitive asshole. “It’s not a disease, idiot – a cold won’t kill you,” I snap in a fucked-up voice before coughing again.

Renji chuckles. “You sound so retarded like that.”

“Fuck off!”

79. Agony (Words: 81)

I can’t sleep for very long – as soon as the NyQuil wears off, I’m awake and coughing my lungs out. My lungs burn and my head pounds and my entire body feels like rubber. Everything hurts and I just want to fucking die.

But then he’s right there with a bottle of water. He’s running his hands through my hair and down my back. He doesn’t say anything, because it’s torture for him to just watch me fight this microscopic enemy.

80. Healing (Words: 64)

When it rains, it pours. And I’m left shivering, huddled and naked in the corner.

He’s the one that doesn’t leave. He’s the one with the towel to dry me off, and the arms to pick me up again, and the voice to goad me into standing on my own again. He’s the one that heals me, because just his presence makes everything better.

81. Blind (Words: 107)

People tend to say that love is blind – that if you love somebody, sometimes it’s easy to be blind to their faults. It seems like that should be true, that if you love them enough, it’s easy to forgive them.

But that’s not love.

It’s not like what they tell you – flowers and candlelight dinners and walks on the beach and sappy poetry—fuck that. Maybe it’s because we’re guys, but…everything is like how it’s always been – just the physical and verbal abuse we throw at each other.

No, we aren’t blind to each other’s faults, but for a while, we were blind to our love.

Bleach: 100 Drabbles - Index

Mon, 23 Jul 2007 22:47:29 GMT

It's not an official claim, as somebody else has already snagged the pairing, but I wanted to do it anyway.

001.	Beginnings	002.	Middles	003.	Ends	004.	First	005.	Last
006.	Hours	007.	Days	008.	Weeks	009.	Months	010.	Years
011.	Red	012.	Grey	013.	White	014.	Black	015.	Blue
016.	Purple	017.	Brown	018.	Green	019.	Pink	020.	Colourless
021.	Friends	022.	Enemies	023.	Lovers	024.	Family	025.	Strangers
026.	Teammates	027.	Parents	028.	Children	029.	Birth	030.	Death
031.	Sunrise	032.	Sunset	033.	Too Much	034.	Not Enough	035.	Sixth Sense
036.	Smell	037.	Sound	038.	Touch	039.	Taste	040.	Sight
041.	Shapes	042.	Triangle	043.	Square	044.	Circle	045.	Moon
046.	King	047.	Heart	048.	Diamond	049.	Queen	050.	Joker
051.	Water	052.	Fire	053.	Earth	054.	Air	055.	Spirit
056.	Breakfast	057.	Lunch	058.	Dinner	059.	Food	060.	Drink
061.	Winter	062.	Spring	063.	Summer	064.	Fall	065.	Passing
066.	Rain	067.	Snow	068.	Lightning	069.	Thunder	070.	Storm
071.	Broken	072.	Fixed	073.	Light	074.	Dark	075.	Shattered
076.	Rebirth	077.	Paralysis	078.	Disease	079.	Agony	080.	Healing
081.	Blind	082.	Deaf	083.	Lost	084.	Found	085.	Missing
086.	Choices	087.	Life	088.	He	089.	She	090.	It
091.	Birthday	092.	Christmas	093.	Thanksgiving	094.	Solstice	095.	New Year
096.	Writer‘s Choice	097.	Writer‘s Choice	098.	Writer‘s Choice	099.	Writer‘s Choice	100.	Writer‘s Choice

Bleach: Candy Cane - 12

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 05:11:58 GMT

Title : Candy Cane
Chapter : 12 - Drive
Word Count : 1244
Total Count : 25747

Candy Cane : 12 : Drive

Sometimes...I feel the fear of...uncertainty...stinging clear...
And I...can't help but ask myself how much I'll let the fear...take the wheel and steer...

The “I’m gay” discussion actually went over fairly well. Excellently, even, if one merely looked at the fact that it was a positive reaction. But this being the Kurosaki household, it was almost too positive. At least from Isshin, who quickly ended up falling victim to Ichigo’s foot.

Yuzu had turned her questions into a game where Ichigo had to try to answer her questions about Renji before or with Renji. If he didn’t, Karin hit him.

“Birthday?”

“August 31,” they answered together.

“Favorite food?”

“Taiyaki.”

“Least favorite?”

“Spicy things.”

“How’s that gonna work out?” Karin asked.

“Very carefully, they answered. They looked at each other before snorting in laughter.

“Favorite color?” Yuzu asked, giggling.

Ichigo looked blank. Renji eyed him. “How can you not know that one?”

“Not exactly on the Top Ten Things I Need to Know About My Fighting Partner, okay?”

Renji snorted, smirking, and rolled his eyes. “It’s red.”

Ichigo smacked his palm against his forehead. Karin gladly smacked him upside the head. “Augh – enough of this!” the brother growled

“Yeah – you didn’t drag us all down here just to tell us you like boys,” Karin said dryly.

Ichigo nudged their father with his foot. “Wake up, old man.”

Isshin popped up immediately. “Yosh! Daddy’s back!”

“Urusai!” Ichigo growled. “Just…tell your daughters already, so I don’t have to…”

“Eh? Oh!” He swept the girls up in a bear hug, exclaiming, “Girls – your big brother’s found true love!”

“We know about that!” Karin snapped, freeing herself. “Ichigo’s gay – okay. We get it. So what? What’s the other thing you wanted to tell us about?”

“Sober up a little, Dad,” Ichigo sighed.

Isshin let Yuzu go and nodded. “Aa – Ichigo is going to be moving again. A little farther away this time,” he started.

“To where? America?” Yuzu asked innocently.

Karin frowned, looking from her father back to her brother and Renji sitting together, hip to hip. “Iye… He’s going back to Soul Society, isn’t he?” she said, bitterness creeping into her voice as her eyes narrowed at the younger of the two boys.

“That place? But why?” Yuzu cried.

“I’m going for good,” Ichigo said softly, looking down, “because…there’s too much of me over there for me to settle here again.”

“Ichi-nii…” The brunette girl hugged her brother. Her maternal instincts had kicked into high gear.

Karin, on the other hand, still seemed pissed about the whole thing. “If you’re going back there, what’re we gonna do with your body again? Leaving Kon in charge of it was like having a baby brother to take care of.”

“I’m… You won’t have to worry about that,” he answered quietly. “I can’t exist in two places at once,” he added, that being the only way he could phrase it, justifying it at the same time.

“Are you going to…?” Yuzu couldn’t get the word out.

“Gomennasai…” he whispered, wrapping his arms around his baby sister.

Renji got up and walked over to Karin to crouch down in front of her so he was looking up at her. “He’s not just tossing you guys aside, you know,” he started softly. “This isn’t easy for him – doing something for himself. You guys know he’s an idiot, and you know he’s got the biggest heart in the world.”

“So why this? Why leave us?” Karin snapped, though her voice was weaker.

“He’s not leaving you. He’s just moving.”

“He could be killed!”

Renji stopped himself from saying he almost killed himself. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise,” he replied instead. “And we’ll write to you as often as we can, and we’ll spend all of the time off we can here. Would that be okay?”

Karin seemed to think about this. “Promise you won’t let him do anything stupid.”

The redhead smirked. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I promise I’ll try.”

The girl smiled. “You better,” she said, forcing her voice to be strong before she hugged her new big brother.

When the girls had calmed down, they discovered that their father had slipped out, leaving a note that he was running an errand he had forgotten about.

Yuzu made dinner for the four of them, which was relatively quiet. After that, they all retired to bed, but not before Karin off-handedly commented about the thin walls. Ichigo blushed, but Renji had easily countered with, “Yeah, I’ll try to make sure Ichigo doesn’t snore too much.”

About an hour after dinner, Ichigo and Renji were on Ichigo’s bed, still awake. Ichigo was laying half on top of the older man, an arm folded on the tattooed chest, tucked under the orange-haired head, the short strands of which Renji was idly toying with.

Ichigo lifted his head and looked at Renji finally. “This whole thing… We’re doing the right thing, right?” he asked softly. “We’re going about this the right way…”

Renji continued to stare up at the ceiling, his free arm tucked under his own head. “I don’t know,” he answered finally, closing his eyes. “I know…that what we’re trying to get is right. I just don’t know if we’re going about it the right way.”

The younger boy sighed. “Why does this have to be this complicated?”

Renji didn’t answer – it was a rhetorical question anyway. They both knew exactly why it was complicated. After all, going against the very laws of nature wasn’t going to be simple and easy.

“My theory is right, though, isn’t it? If you want to die, everything dies?”

“I don’t know,” Renji said firmly. He hated saying that, but he hated false hope even more. There really wasn’t any guarantee that the pseudo-suicide plan would actually work the way they wanted it to. It was true that a soul still bound to life would hover in the living world and would have to be practically forced into Soul Society. It was also true that a soul that welcomed death would disappear – what happened to that soul, though, wasn’t clear. On top of that, nobody ever thought to study what happened to people who died certain deaths.

“It…should work, shouldn’t it?” he asked softly. He needed positive affirmation of something.

Renji gave in. “Yeah. That doesn’t mean it will, though.”

Ichigo grunted, not pleased with Renji’s pessimism.

“Go to sleep, Ichii,” Renji sighed. “We’ve done enough thinking for today.”

“Thinking and talking,” Ichigo amended before scooting up and kissing him – he seemed to have fallen into a habit of that within a day. The simple action was enough for him to make sure everything was real, that he wasn’t in some fucked up dream.

Ichigo tensed, readying his stance, as the eerily calm man stepped forward, his blade dripping with blood.

Her blood.

It had to be her blood.

The boy snapped and lunged for the traitor. He couldn’t believe… After all he had gone through, all the rules he had bent and broken—it couldn’t end like this! Too many people were sacrificed!

The sleek black blade sunk into his opponent’s chest, crossing perfectly with a pure white blade held up in defense.

The zanpakutou wasn’t Aizen’s.

“Ichi…go…?”

The voice wasn’t Aizen’s.

Ichigo looked up.

The face wasn’t Aizen’s.

He hadn’t killed Aizen.

He had killed Rukia.

Ichigo twitched half awake and rolled over, burying his face against Renji’s chest as he easily slipped into a much calmer dream, his mind already having forgotten the most recent one.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Song Title and Lyrics: Incubus "Drive"

Index

Bleach: Candy Cane - 3

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 01:06:15 GMT

Title : Candy Cane
Chapter : 3 - In the Shadows
Word Count : 3911
Total Count : 6705
Japanese : Baka = "idiot/stupid" • Boke = "idiot/retard" (slang) • Iie = "no" • Yare yare = (akin to) "my oh my/boy oh boy/etc..." • Damare = "shut up/be quiet" • Soukyoku = the execution zanpakutou (in case you forgot)

Candy Cane : 3 : In the Shadows

Time after time, I lose again...
Night after night, I wake up shaking 'cause my world is breaking...
I'm fool enough to fall again...
Night after night I wake up crying 'cause I feel like dying...

Renji had never understood when girls talked about knights rushing headlong into a battle against a vicious fire-breathing dragon just to save a complete stranger who just happened to be a princess. Hinamori tried to explain to him that it was what true love was all about, and when two people were in love like that, the story always ended in “and they lived happily ever after.” When Renji questioned fantasy with street rat logic, Hinamori gave up, saying that somebody like him just wouldn’t understand.

She was right, of course. Growing up as a street rat, possessions and people slipped in and out of his grasp as easily as water, and any stranger was an enemy. Getting attached would only cause heartache, and trying to be a hero would get you killed. Love and kindness were hindrances, inconveniences. Feelings and emotions only got in the way if you hung onto them.

And then he had crossed paths with one Kurosaki Ichigo, who ran headlong into a battle he couldn’t possibly survive just to save a girl he barely knew.

From that first battle, Renji had thought Ichigo a fool for letting emotions plunge him into certain death. But Ichigo had survived, just like Hinamori’s fictional knights. He had survived, regained his shinigami powers, and invaded Seireitei – the dragon’s den. All to save a girl they had called a friend.

And Renji had found a hatred for him and his stubbornness. He hated Ichigo for being Rukia’s knight in shining armor – for showing him the possibility of Hinamori’s stories being true. He hated the rookie brat that had taken his best friend’s powers and sealed her death sentence, and that same rookie brat was defying all odds to save her, while her best friend couldn’t do anything for her. He hated Ichigo for showing him that.

Renji had been scared of standing up and speaking out. He was following orders – always following orders. Even when the order meant killing his best friend, he followed it. He, like Rukia, was also a prisoner of the dragon – a prisoner of the presiding all-powerful order. That was the dragon the orange-haired knight had come to slay. And even though he had only intended to sever the dragon’s fatal grasp on one girl, he had ended up severing several men’s blindfolds that had been keeping them from seeing who they once were. He proved there was no strength in blindly, silently following orders.

And upon defeating some of the strongest shinigami, he shattered several chains and opened a rift in the dragon’s power of authority. After all, who could believe an inexperienced, independent ryoka was so powerful? Fueled only by a promise made to nobody but himself, he demolished several sections and seated powers. There was no way prisoners like them could bring themselves to kill that passionate determination. Once shown their shackles and prison bars, they couldn’t stop the man who was shattering them without a second thought. And even those with obligated loyalty to the dragon, some just couldn’t bear to extinguish a fire that brilliant, that free. Others chose to underestimate him, and they passed off the blazing fire as an immature emotion that would only lead to his premature death.

Those were the men who had never been told the fanciful stories of Hinamori’s knight. Those were the men who didn’t know to think that maybe, just maybe there was such a thing as “happily ever after.” Those were the men who failed to see that Ichigo’s resolve and will to fight came in the form of a pure, raw, unstoppable fireball driven by other-worldly, emotional power.

And Renji had found himself in awe-inspiring admiration of the boy who defeated Kuchiki Byakuya. He wanted to fight alongside with that power, and he had let him. Ichigo had asked to fight together. Renji hadn’t let that opportunity slip out of his grasp. Where Byakuya had condemned emotions to result in a cold and untouchable machine, Ichigo had let himself be happy and sad and arrogant and angry, which resulted in a boy so human, it was disconcerting to know that his will to fight could be eclipsed and dwarfed by his bloodthirsty instinct to fight.

Unfortunately, no matter how powerful the kid was, he was still only a kid. No amount of physical power was going to defeat the dragon in his head.

I wish I could be your knight, Ichigo. I wish I could slay this dragon for you and give you the Happily Ever After you deserve… But I can’t, and it hurts watching you lose…

Ichigo jolted awake from the sound of pebbles hitting the window. Dammit, Kon… he mentally grumbled to himself as his consciousness gathered his senses. He slowly realized that the red-haired freeloader was in his bed – still in his bed, rather, and still asleep with his arms around him. He paused. He wanted to stay asleep in that warmth, but Kon was likely to do something stupid if Ichigo didn’t let him in.

“Wake up, fat-ass,” Ichigo called as he slipped away from him, before shoving him off the mattress with his foot.

Renji rolled off and sat up. “That wasn’t very nice,” he grumbled, trying to look grumpy, but at Ichigo’s somewhat forlorn expression poorly disguised under morning drowsiness, he pulled a childish pout.

“Blame the cat,” Ichigo said, pushing the window open. Kon hopped in just as Ichigo stood up to begin his daily morning routine, starting with turning off the alarm clock Kon had, once again, managed to beat.

“Ohayo! Where’s breakfast?”

“Don’t you catch mice or something?” Renji asked.

“Mice? Eugh – that’s disgusting.” Kon shuddered. “I’d rather eat that disgusting kibble.”

“Unfortunately, he’s spoiled and gets leftovers,” Ichigo said before shoving his toothbrush in his mouth.

“You call ramen broth ‘leftovers’?” Kon shook his head and turned to Renji. “Please say you know how to cook, because nii-san doesn’t.”

Ichigo snorted and spat in the sink. “Renji? Cook?”

“Hey! I can cook!” Renji huffed.

“Can you do it well, though,” Ichigo clarified around the toothbrush.

Renji caught the challenge in his voice. “I’ll prove it. I’ll cook dinner tonight.”

“Do you even know how to work modern appliances?”

“Ehh… I’ll figure it out,” Renji said with a shrug.

Ichigo spat again. “Like hell you will!”

But Renji laughed. “Baaaaka – yes, I know how to work ‘em.”

Ichigo eyed him over his shoulder. “You break anything and I’m gonna force you to get a job to pay for it.”

“What would you care?” Kon said. “You barely use anything in there!” he added with a whine.

Ichigo just threw the wet washcloth at the cat. “That’s not the point.”

Kon yelped and bounded into Renji’s lap. “Pissy pissy!”

Renji chuckled and grabbed the washcloth and tossed it back at Ichigo, who turned around and leaned back against the sink counter. “Kon’s got a point – you are kinda pissy.”

“It’s ‘cause he doesn’t get any sex,” Kon said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Kon!” Ichigo chucked the washcloth again, and was subsequently caught by Renji, who was cracking up.

“What – it’s true!” Kon retorted, now laying down with his ears flat against his head.

“Entirely beside the point!” Ichigo folded his arms across his chest, looking peeved.

“I think he’s gay,” Kon muttered. Renji snickered and Ichigo looked like he was trying his best too keep from killing Kon right there. “Oh come on – you don’t have any porn around here, you’ve never been to a club or anything—you don’t even look at Inoue-chan’s boobs!”

“Just because I’m not perverted doesn’t make me gay!”

“Too bad I’ve heard you saying—iie, moaning Renji’s name in yer sleep. And in the shower.”

“You. Have. Not,” Ichigo said firmly, trying his best to keep his face from coloring and failing.

Kon grinned, having found a new sensitive subject with which to torment the boy with. “Ichigo and Renji, sittin’ in a tree. F – U—“

“YOU’RE DEAD!” Ichigo yelled, throwing the closest thing to him – a hard plastic cup – at the cat, which resulted in Kon springing one way with a yelp and Renji quickly bringing his knees up to avoid getting hit in the crotch. The cup connected with Renji’s shin with a crack.

Renji winced. “…Ow.”

“I’m so outta here,” Kon muttered before jumping out the window again.

Ichigo glared at the retreating feline before looking back at Renji. “Sorry – you okay?”

Renji slid the PJ pants leg up to look at the bruise. “Yeah. I don’t think your cup is, though.”

Indeed, the plastic cup had suffered an X-shaped crack in its side.

“Toss it – I have to get ready for work.”

“Work? In your condition?”

“I’m fine – I’ve gone to work in much worse condition.”

Boredom quickly set in while Ichigo was in the shower, so Renji rummaged around the kitchen, looking for anything to make a decent breakfast with. Unfortunately, it was painfully obvious that Ichigo was living off of cereal and instant ramen. Still, he managed to dig up bread, butter, and grape jelly.

He popped the bread in the toaster oven and fiddled with the controls. He knew how to work a toaster, but the toaster oven was entirely new to him, and the multiple buttons just made things complicated. When he was pretty sure he’d gotten it right, he started it and got himself a bowl of cereal.

After a minute, Renji was sure he’d screwed up – the toast was black already and starting to smoke. He quickly hit the OFF button and opened it up, letting the smoke clear out. “Well shit…”

“Wha’d’ya do?” Ichigo asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and another over his head to dry off his hair.

“Erm…” Renji dumbly pointed at the smoldering toast in the oven, his brain having just stopped all practical thought processes at the sight of half-naked Ichigo.

Ichigo pulled the towel off his head and looked at where Renji was pointing for a moment before his eyes went wide. Renji’s brain kicked into gear again, fearing he’d done something horribly wrong, but he noticed that Ichigo’s eyes weren’t focused at all.

“Ichigo…?” Shit… He’d triggered something and he had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what it was.

“Don’t…feel good…” Ichigo managed to mumble.

Renji walked to him and placed his hands on the sides of Ichigo’s head and looked into his eyes. “It’s not real. You’re not there anymore. It’s all in the past.”

Ichigo shut his eyes tight. When he opened them again, tears spilled down his face. “I think I’m gonna be sick…”

“Then go be sick,” Renji said, letting him go only to steer him towards the bathroom once more.

The smoke could be seen miles before they even got to the edge of the scorched and charred path of destruction caused by some weird, mutated, flaming Arankar. Experience told Renji to keep from breathing through his nose – unfortunately, Ichigo didn’t seem know the importance of this.

When they came within a few meters of the path, Ichigo recoiled from the stench – the vile amalgamation of burning bodies, smoldering buildings, and a myriad of things that should never be set ablaze – and landed on his knees, a hand over his nose and mouth as he hunched over, trying to collect himself again.

“Boke – don’t breath it in!”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Ichigo snapped in a strained voice before he retched.

Renji stayed with him until he was able to continue on. They walked through the town together. Ichigo kept a sleeve over his nose and mouth, not wanting to repeat that episode. Unfortunately, sight alone was enough to make him sick. Renji could keep his vision unfocused, allowing him to keep from distinguishing one burned thing from another, but Ichigo’s wandering eyes caught every outline of what once was a man, a woman, a child…

It wasn’t long before he retched again.

Renji handed the steaming bowl of ramen to the boy. Ichigo had thrown up and cried until all he was giving was dry heaves. Renji had to help him to his bed, where he was sitting now with a pair of sweats on, looking like shit.

“Yeah, you ain’t goin’ to work today, kiddo,” Renji said plainly, sitting down near him.

Ichigo gave a weak snort. “I’ll be fine,” he said, his voice still hoarse.

“How many times you done that?”

“What – puked my brains out?”

“Yeah. I just guessed you hadn’t been eatin’ right, but…”

“Once. I did the exact same thing you did with that fucking thing.”

“So why else you lookin’ like ya do?”

Ichigo didn’t physically respond. “Whaddaya mean?”

“If you’ve only upchucked once, why you look like you ain’t been eatin’ much?”

He averted his eyes. “I just get to feelin’ sick a lot, so I don’t eat. When I do, it’s just this stuff or Cheerios…”

“Boke…”

“Can you just get me my damn cell phone? Idiot Inadou will get pissy if I don’t call in soon. It’s the shiny black thing on my desk,” he added, setting the bowl in his lap as Renji got up.

“Call in? Hey – this is really small…” Renji turned the black Razr phone over in his hand.

“Yeah – call in sick. You’re obviously not gonna let me go. Give it.”

Renji didn’t seem to want to give it up any time soon. “The phones we get are all bulky compared to this…”

“Can you just give it to me already?”

Renji ignored him and opened it, only to tilt his head in confusion. He showed Ichigo, asking, “How’d you get this on here?” The background picture was of Ichigo and Renji and the other guys from Soul Society all in relatively normal clothes. The picture was centered on Renji and Ichigo. The redhead had an arm around the boy’s shoulders with a dorky grin on his face.

“It’s a camera phone,” Ichigo explained, finally able to take the phone from him. “I took a picture of the photo Orihime took of all of us.”

Renji kneeled down in front of him. “What other pictures you got on there?”

“Stupid shit,” he muttered, going through his phonebook. A few seconds later, he had the phone to his ear.

Renji stopped paying attention as he stood up again and started looking through Ichigo’s closet.

After a minute, the phone snapped shut. “What the hell’re you doin’, Renji?”

“Lookin’ for somethin’ to wear.”

Ichigo looked confused. “Why?”

“I can’t go to the store in pajamas, right?”

“W-wait – you’re gonna go to the store?”

“You’ve got no food. I like ramen an’ all, but I ain’t gonna live on it while I’m here.”

“An’ whose money do ya think yer gonna use?”

“Mine – Urahara trades the money we get in Soul Society for the money you got here.”

“Oh…”

“Ukitake has all the bounties you earned, by the way, if ya ever need it.”

“How come I wasn’t told about that?”

“You never asked – you got any pants that’re loose on ya? ‘Cause yer still too damn skinny for those tight-ass jeans to fit me.”

“Look in the bottom drawer of my dresser.”

Once Renji got clothes to change into, he disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower, leaving Ichigo to his ramen. He’d only eaten a few bites but the off-white mound of noodles flecked with green and orange wasn’t looking very appetizing.

“Eat the whole thing, even if it makes ya sick. Otherwise I’ll kick the crap outta ya.”

Ichigo scowled at the lifeless pasta, as if it had given the order and not the redhead currently naked in his bathroom…

“Too bad I’ve heard you saying—iie, moaning Renji’s name in yer sleep. And in the shower.”

He felt his face heat up from Kon’s previous words, and that in and of itself made him blush furiously. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the cold wall, letting himself calm down.

“Yare yare…” a familiar voice cooed inside his head.

Ichigo’s eyes snapped open. “Shiro…” he growled.

“Don’t sound so happy to hear me, aibou,” he deadpanned.

“What do you want, Shirosaki?”

“To tease you about your hard on for him.”

He scowled. “I don’t—Go away. Just go away,” he muttered, setting his elbows against his knees and burying his face in his hands.

“You are truly pathetic, king.”

“You aren’t helping, horse,” Ichigo spat.

“You think things are gonna go away if you suppress them? Ignore them? Pretend they aren’t real?”

“Damare…” he growled.

“If you were smart, you woulda figured out from dealing with me that that kinda shit ain’t gonna work. Not everything goes your way!”

“Nothing goes my way. Now leave me alone.”

Shirosaki snorted. “You know how to shut me up, king, you just don’t want to. You like yellin’ at me, havin’ somethin’ that’ll respond to ya. You need me here, in your head, because you don’t want to deal with your own problems—“

“URUSAI!!” Ichigo had drawn up his knees, spilling the bowl, and dug the heels of his palms in his eyes as he trembled.

“Ichigo?” Renji came out of the bathroom with just his jeans on. His hair was down and still wet, as was his skin. “Ichigo, what’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling in front of him.

The boy had curled into himself, burying his face in his arms. At Renji’s voice, he shifted his head up just enough to look at him with one brown eye.

“What is it?” Renji reached out to him, but the boy freaked and knocked Renji’s hand away.

“It’s not your problem!”

Renji frowned for a moment before grabbing him and shoving him on his back, pinning his arms at his sides. “I told you to share, idiot. Stop being so damn selfish.”

“Why…”

Renji loosened his grip and sat down Indian-style. “Just tell me what the hell is wrong. I know I can’t do a whole lot, but I gotta do something or I’m gonna go nuts.”

Ichigo covered his face with his arms. “Why do you want a part of this?”

“Because that’s what friends are for. We share the good and the bad. Unfortunately for you, I’m a greedy little bastard – I always want the bigger half,” he added with a smirk. “Just start sharin’, okay? Ya may find that ya like it.”

Ichigo took a minute to answer. “You don’t want a part of this.”

“You don’t want it either – that don’t mean we ain’t stuck with it. As long as it’s here, somebody’s gotta bear it. You’re tryin’ to keep it all to yourself and you know it ain’t workin’. So just try it – try lettin’ me in and sharin’ some of the shit you can’t deal with.”

Another minute. “I have…a Hollow inside me,” he stated flatly. “The embodiment of my instinct. He is…insane. And powerful. And he is under my command.” He paused. “I defeated Kenpachi… I defeated Byakuya. I defeated you. I destroyed the Soukyoku. All on my own. So why… With all my power, with all my strength, why the hell am I losing…to images in my head?” His voice had begun to waver and broke at the end.

“You haven’t lost, Ichigo,” Renji said softly. “You’re still sane—“

“You call this sane?” Ichigo moved his arms above his head to look at Renji. “I hear voices in my head – not just Shirosaki’s. They say things I don’t want to hear, things I know—deep down I know they aren’t true – not completely. But I…”

“They make ya doubt yourself,” Renji finished, understanding.

He covered his eyes again. “They make me hate myself. For how I acted.”

“What…do you mean?”

“Last night… One of the patrols through Rukongai – the district that got shredded… There was a boy who lived there, Shibata Yuuichi. We – Rukia and Chad and I – saved him from a Hollow back…back before Rukia got arrested. We met him in Rukongai again when we…invaded. He was adopted into a family he introduced us to. He… I saw him…and his brother… His entire family…mutilated… And back then…all I could think was ‘I want…whoever did this…dead. And I want to be the one to kill them.’ Nothing else. I didn’t even pause to say ‘I’m sorry’ or anything. I was…just cold… ‘You didn’t protect Shibata. You didn’t mourn for him and his family. You may as well have been the one who murdered them all.’ That’s what…the voices said last night. And the images…” His voice broke again into a sob.

Renji frowned and ran his fingers through Ichigo’s hair.

Ichigo put his arms down. “W-what’re you…”

“You did what you had to do, Ichigo,” he said softly.

“You don’t think I know that?” he snapped, rolling over to his hands and knees to glare at his friend. “You don’t think I know that I acted the way I had to to fight effectively?”

“If you know that, then why is it haunting you?”

Ichigo’s expression shifted from anger to confusion.

“You’re doubting yourself. What I can’t say is what exactly you’re having doubts about – that’s your problem to figure out.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and lay back down, with his head resting on Renji’s legs.

“Do you remember…the district Grimmjow decimated?” Renji said after a moment as he began running his finger’s through Ichigo’s hair again.

Ichigo paused. “That was…78th?”

“My home district. You remember how I acted?”

He frowned, thinking back. “You…”

“I was numb, just like you were. And I drowned it in alcohol that night, just like you did. And I felt like shit, just like you do.”

Ichigo let the silence hang, expecting him to go on. “…You gonna tell me how you got past it?”

“There’s nothing to get past. You’re clinging to it. Let it go.”

“How can I just…” His voice broke again and he covered his face with his hands, damming a fresh wave of tears.

“That’s for you to figure out – you can think about it while I’m at the store,” Renji said, getting up.

“W-wait—what? Renji!” Ichigo rolled over and sat back on his ankles, watching him.

“What? I’ll be back in like an hour or so and we can have some real food, alright?” he said as he pulled his shirt on.

Please don’t leave me alone! Ichigo wanted to say it, but… “Alright.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“Nothing,” Ichigo said weakly. He had leaned back against the wall, his knees drawn up, elbows set against them, his head buried in his arms.

“Nothing,” Shirosaki repeated, skeptical. “Wallowing in self pity doesn’t count as nothing—!”

“URUSAI!!”

“Oh please – you know as well as I do what you’re trying to avoid. Whether or not I bug the shit out of you isn’t going to change what you’re going to end up doing.”

“If you’ll just leave me alone, I can stay away from it until Renji gets back…”

“Renji told you to think about how to let it go. How about listening to him? It’s pouring in here – if nothing else, it’ll calm you down.”

Ichigo took a deep breath and lifted his head, looking over to the kitchen. “…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Heaven sent you...to bring the answer... Heaven sent you, to cure this cancer... For a moment...unbeatable chance... For a moment...the world in my hands...
Like an angel you came, every time when I prayed... Guardian of my dreams, watching me when I sleep... Like an angel you came, every time when I screamed...
Time after time, I lose again... Night after night, I wake up shaking 'cause my world is breaking... I'm fool enough to fall again... Night after night I wake up crying 'cause I feel like dying...
Still disconnected...and unprotected... Still I'm haunted...but unwanted... For a moment...unbreakable stars... For a moment...you stayed in my arms...
Like an angel you came, every time when I prayed... Guardian of my dreams, watching me when I sleep... Like an angel you came, every time when I screamed...
Time after time, I lose again... Night after night, I wake up shaking 'cause my world is breaking... I'm fool enough to fall again... Night after night I wake up crying 'cause I feel like dying...

Song Title and Lyrics: The Rasmus "Night After Night (In the Shadows)"

Index