today's
I blame this all on watching Bleach the Rock Musical (greatest human achievement of all time) just before writing this. Pure crack.
Title: “Dance”
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Zaraki Kenpachi/Matsumoto, Gin/Kira, Gin/Matsumoto, Aizen/Hinamori, Aizen/Gin (implied), Renji, Soi Fong, Tousen/Hisagi Shuuhei, Kyouraku (honestly, it's more hints [many of them completely platonic] than actually having this many pairings)
Rating: PG
Warnings: crackness, alcohol, implied sex
Word Count: 341
Time: 40 minutes
Disclaimer: Bleach not mine.
Zaraki Kenpachi did not dance. But, Kyouraku had said no alcohol for anyone who didn’t make their way rhythmically across the dance floor and he was immune to Zaraki’s ton-of-brick spiritual energy intimidation.
“Will you… dance with me, taichou?”
“Ah, Hinamori-kun. I would, but… I can’t dance.”
Zaraki snorted; Aizen was such a dork. As his vice-captain coaxed him on the dance floor, Zaraki wondered why that creepy smiling guy hadn’t already snatched him up. Oh, there he was, terrorizing/swing dancing with the kid with the hair in his face. They were taking up a huge amount of room on the dance floor, coming close to running over Renji and Soi Fong (both drunk enough to actually believe their partner was the one they wanted them to be) and Tousen and Hisagi (waltzing sharply and precisely) numerous times.
Gin’s eyes weren’t on his pretty blonde little vice-captain or on his former captain, though. They rested firmly on Matsumoto, partnerless. She avoided his gaze pointedly, if failingly.
Zaraki was tired of this party already and wanted some of that damn alcohol already, especially since Ikkaku would be watching Yachiru till morning.
Zaraki was a loss what to say to someone, for once. Matsumoto figured out what he meant, though, and pulled him with her onto the dance floor.
Zaraki knew Matsumoto wasn’t a prostitute, no matter what some members of other divisions might say. He knew prostitutes and she wasn’t one. Still, she really was taking advantage of her chest in dancing very close to him, her eyes on a certain third division captain the entire time.
Matsumoto was sort of squishy. He wanted alcohol now.
They made their way to the refreshments after the shortest possible dancing stint that Kyouraku would let him get away with and still serve him.
Matsumoto was kinda squishy. After a blink or two he realized that meant she was still hanging on him.
It turned out there was a least a bit of a difference between other people’s jealous, neglected girlfriends and prostitutes. Prostitutes charged.
Title: “Dance”
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Zaraki Kenpachi/Matsumoto, Gin/Kira, Gin/Matsumoto, Aizen/Hinamori, Aizen/Gin (implied), Renji, Soi Fong, Tousen/Hisagi Shuuhei, Kyouraku (honestly, it's more hints [many of them completely platonic] than actually having this many pairings)
Rating: PG
Warnings: crackness, alcohol, implied sex
Word Count: 341
Time: 40 minutes
Disclaimer: Bleach not mine.
Zaraki Kenpachi did not dance. But, Kyouraku had said no alcohol for anyone who didn’t make their way rhythmically across the dance floor and he was immune to Zaraki’s ton-of-brick spiritual energy intimidation.
“Will you… dance with me, taichou?”
“Ah, Hinamori-kun. I would, but… I can’t dance.”
Zaraki snorted; Aizen was such a dork. As his vice-captain coaxed him on the dance floor, Zaraki wondered why that creepy smiling guy hadn’t already snatched him up. Oh, there he was, terrorizing/swing dancing with the kid with the hair in his face. They were taking up a huge amount of room on the dance floor, coming close to running over Renji and Soi Fong (both drunk enough to actually believe their partner was the one they wanted them to be) and Tousen and Hisagi (waltzing sharply and precisely) numerous times.
Gin’s eyes weren’t on his pretty blonde little vice-captain or on his former captain, though. They rested firmly on Matsumoto, partnerless. She avoided his gaze pointedly, if failingly.
Zaraki was tired of this party already and wanted some of that damn alcohol already, especially since Ikkaku would be watching Yachiru till morning.
Zaraki was a loss what to say to someone, for once. Matsumoto figured out what he meant, though, and pulled him with her onto the dance floor.
Zaraki knew Matsumoto wasn’t a prostitute, no matter what some members of other divisions might say. He knew prostitutes and she wasn’t one. Still, she really was taking advantage of her chest in dancing very close to him, her eyes on a certain third division captain the entire time.
Matsumoto was sort of squishy. He wanted alcohol now.
They made their way to the refreshments after the shortest possible dancing stint that Kyouraku would let him get away with and still serve him.
Matsumoto was kinda squishy. After a blink or two he realized that meant she was still hanging on him.
It turned out there was a least a bit of a difference between other people’s jealous, neglected girlfriends and prostitutes. Prostitutes charged.