Bleach Drabble (115-116)
AKA The Drunken weirdness crack drabbles that JaB made me write.
115.
Title: Vindictive
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, Yachiru
Word Count: 434
Warning/s: Um… just, random stupidity.
Summary: Hitsugaya is responsible and rational and calm. Mostly.
Dedication: JaB- Totally her idea, I just wrote it and made it stupid and uncool. Meh.
A/N: I don’t know. I really don’t. I think it’s the me trying to write a Bleach crossover with One Piece that’s throwing my sense of writing equilibrium straight to hell. THEY DON’T MESH WELL, DAMMIT!
Hitsugaya Toushirou didn’t consider himself a vindictive type of person at all. In fact, he liked to think he was very calm and cool and rational about most everything. He was well beyond his years in maturity really, which was why he could handle the huge responsibility of being a captain at such a young age.
He wasn’t vindictive at all, when it came to most things.
But there were a few things that just got to him.
He was not short.
He was young goddammit. He hadn’t had enough time to become un-short.
So when people made fun of his height, be it drunk or sober, he got a little angry.
And Matsumoto, as drunk as she had been, had called him short.
Not only had she called him short, she, with her red cheeks and intimidating sashaying, had grabbed him around the shoulders and shoved his face into her chest and cooed drunkenly about how cute and little and short and small and petite and tiny and diminutive her cute little short captain Shirou-chan was.
And when he thought he’d been on the verge of blacking out from lack of oxygen, she’d passed out first, from over indulgence.
So she’d dropped him.
And promptly landed on top of him, snoring like a roaring Hollow with her scary chest resting right on top of his now crushed hair.
Normally, Hitsugaya Toushirou didn’t think he was a very vindictive sort of guy. And he was responsible most of the time, a good captain and a caring friend.
But there were just some things…
He sat idly by in the late afternoon sunlight and watched as Kusajika-fukutaichou jumped on Matsumoto’s buoyant breasts, laughing sweetly and marveling in a cutely innocent little-girl sort of way, at how soft and bouncy and nice smelling the blonde’s front was, even if her breath was really stinky and she made funny noises when she slept.
It all gave Hitsugaya an amazingly evil sense of satisfaction to see.
He just hoped Yachiru didn’t drown in those things or anything.
But really, Toushirou didn’t let himself feel bad about anything because he knew this rare indulgence in his vindictive side would wear off soon, and then he was going to drag his unconscious vice-captain out of the quad, where everyone was staring at her as Yachiru bounced away.
He was Ran-chan’s captain after all, and a responsible, reliable type of guy in the long run. He’d definitely drag her out of there eventually.
Just… you know, once his vindictive side felt properly satisfied.
So until then, he just enjoyed the show.
END
116.
Title: This Stays Between Us
Rating: PG-15
Pairing/Character/s: IbaxIkkaku and a surprise(CRACK)
Word Count: 383
Warning/s: Drunken debauchery? No spoilers though.
Summary: Crack fic- The morning after is never fun, is it?
Dedication: JaB again- okay, she asked for Orgy, but this is close enough, right? Right.
A/N: Um… I’m going to hell, aren’t I? Yes I am. You better draw me pron, JaB. I mean it.
“Urrrrgh.”
“Fucker, get off of me…” Ikkaku groaned, shoving Iba’s foot off of him forcibly. “I mean it, asshole, get on your s…”
“Muurr?”
“HOLY SHIT.”
Iba blinked stupidly upon hearing Madarame’s expletive, forcing his eyes open only to regret it right after, as the pounding in his head somehow intensified with that small action alone. “Mmmg… Ikkaku?” he croaked, wincing at the sound of his own voice.
Ikkaku, too freaked out to pay too much heed to his own pounding head, tensed. “Please tell me you’re not naked too.”
“What the fuck is going on?” the seventh division vice-captain groaned painfully. “I…”
“Iba, tell me you’re not naked too.”
“…er…what?”
“Naked, asshole! Do you have clothes on?”
“Argh, not so loud,” Iba whined, holding his aching head in his hands. “What the hell are you going on about?”
Ikkaku, on the verge of outright panic, forgot about asking and moved a hand under the covers and grasped.
“SHIT! Leggo!”
“Oh god you are naked.”
Ikkaku wiggled experimentally. Winced. “Fuckin’ hell, and I’m sore. Dammit.”
Iba blinked, finally fully and torturously awake after Ikkaku’s not-so-gentle gropage. “Sore? Naked?”
Ikkaku clenched his teeth. “Yeah.”
“Wait…that means…”
“Yeah… I think.”
“Sore… really? You are?”
“Not a word, asshole.”
The larger shinigami breathed a sigh of relief. “At least I still have that,” he muttered, moving to rub his aching temples. He paused when he winced, feeling a telltale pinch coming from down below. “Oh shit.” Iba wiggled a little himself. “Waitaminute…I’m sore too. Dammit.”
Ikkaku blinked. “Wait…what?”
“You bastard! What did you do to me?!” Tetsuzaemon accused angrily.
“I… the same thing you did to me, asshole!”
“Nerg.”
Both arguing shinigami froze mid-accusation at the sound of another voice. “Who’s there?” the eleventh division third chair demanded after a beat, pulling the blankets reflexively up over his violated chest.
Both shinigami gaped stupidly as Abarai Renji’s head appeared from Iba’s other side, the sixth division vice-captain blinking blearily and looking rather put out at having been woken up so early.
“Renji?!”
“Would the two of you shut the hell up? I’m too goddamned hung-over for this shit,” the redhead muttered irately before rolling over and going back to sleep without another word.
Ikkaku and Iba looked at each other in absolute horror.
“No fuckin’ way.”
END
It's like, 2:30 am...there are BOUND to be mistakes everywhere.
115.
Title: Vindictive
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, Yachiru
Word Count: 434
Warning/s: Um… just, random stupidity.
Summary: Hitsugaya is responsible and rational and calm. Mostly.
Dedication: JaB- Totally her idea, I just wrote it and made it stupid and uncool. Meh.
A/N: I don’t know. I really don’t. I think it’s the me trying to write a Bleach crossover with One Piece that’s throwing my sense of writing equilibrium straight to hell. THEY DON’T MESH WELL, DAMMIT!
Hitsugaya Toushirou didn’t consider himself a vindictive type of person at all. In fact, he liked to think he was very calm and cool and rational about most everything. He was well beyond his years in maturity really, which was why he could handle the huge responsibility of being a captain at such a young age.
He wasn’t vindictive at all, when it came to most things.
But there were a few things that just got to him.
He was not short.
He was young goddammit. He hadn’t had enough time to become un-short.
So when people made fun of his height, be it drunk or sober, he got a little angry.
And Matsumoto, as drunk as she had been, had called him short.
Not only had she called him short, she, with her red cheeks and intimidating sashaying, had grabbed him around the shoulders and shoved his face into her chest and cooed drunkenly about how cute and little and short and small and petite and tiny and diminutive her cute little short captain Shirou-chan was.
And when he thought he’d been on the verge of blacking out from lack of oxygen, she’d passed out first, from over indulgence.
So she’d dropped him.
And promptly landed on top of him, snoring like a roaring Hollow with her scary chest resting right on top of his now crushed hair.
Normally, Hitsugaya Toushirou didn’t think he was a very vindictive sort of guy. And he was responsible most of the time, a good captain and a caring friend.
But there were just some things…
He sat idly by in the late afternoon sunlight and watched as Kusajika-fukutaichou jumped on Matsumoto’s buoyant breasts, laughing sweetly and marveling in a cutely innocent little-girl sort of way, at how soft and bouncy and nice smelling the blonde’s front was, even if her breath was really stinky and she made funny noises when she slept.
It all gave Hitsugaya an amazingly evil sense of satisfaction to see.
He just hoped Yachiru didn’t drown in those things or anything.
But really, Toushirou didn’t let himself feel bad about anything because he knew this rare indulgence in his vindictive side would wear off soon, and then he was going to drag his unconscious vice-captain out of the quad, where everyone was staring at her as Yachiru bounced away.
He was Ran-chan’s captain after all, and a responsible, reliable type of guy in the long run. He’d definitely drag her out of there eventually.
Just… you know, once his vindictive side felt properly satisfied.
So until then, he just enjoyed the show.
END
116.
Title: This Stays Between Us
Rating: PG-15
Pairing/Character/s: IbaxIkkaku and a surprise(CRACK)
Word Count: 383
Warning/s: Drunken debauchery? No spoilers though.
Summary: Crack fic- The morning after is never fun, is it?
Dedication: JaB again- okay, she asked for Orgy, but this is close enough, right? Right.
A/N: Um… I’m going to hell, aren’t I? Yes I am. You better draw me pron, JaB. I mean it.
“Urrrrgh.”
“Fucker, get off of me…” Ikkaku groaned, shoving Iba’s foot off of him forcibly. “I mean it, asshole, get on your s…”
“Muurr?”
“HOLY SHIT.”
Iba blinked stupidly upon hearing Madarame’s expletive, forcing his eyes open only to regret it right after, as the pounding in his head somehow intensified with that small action alone. “Mmmg… Ikkaku?” he croaked, wincing at the sound of his own voice.
Ikkaku, too freaked out to pay too much heed to his own pounding head, tensed. “Please tell me you’re not naked too.”
“What the fuck is going on?” the seventh division vice-captain groaned painfully. “I…”
“Iba, tell me you’re not naked too.”
“…er…what?”
“Naked, asshole! Do you have clothes on?”
“Argh, not so loud,” Iba whined, holding his aching head in his hands. “What the hell are you going on about?”
Ikkaku, on the verge of outright panic, forgot about asking and moved a hand under the covers and grasped.
“SHIT! Leggo!”
“Oh god you are naked.”
Ikkaku wiggled experimentally. Winced. “Fuckin’ hell, and I’m sore. Dammit.”
Iba blinked, finally fully and torturously awake after Ikkaku’s not-so-gentle gropage. “Sore? Naked?”
Ikkaku clenched his teeth. “Yeah.”
“Wait…that means…”
“Yeah… I think.”
“Sore… really? You are?”
“Not a word, asshole.”
The larger shinigami breathed a sigh of relief. “At least I still have that,” he muttered, moving to rub his aching temples. He paused when he winced, feeling a telltale pinch coming from down below. “Oh shit.” Iba wiggled a little himself. “Waitaminute…I’m sore too. Dammit.”
Ikkaku blinked. “Wait…what?”
“You bastard! What did you do to me?!” Tetsuzaemon accused angrily.
“I… the same thing you did to me, asshole!”
“Nerg.”
Both arguing shinigami froze mid-accusation at the sound of another voice. “Who’s there?” the eleventh division third chair demanded after a beat, pulling the blankets reflexively up over his violated chest.
Both shinigami gaped stupidly as Abarai Renji’s head appeared from Iba’s other side, the sixth division vice-captain blinking blearily and looking rather put out at having been woken up so early.
“Renji?!”
“Would the two of you shut the hell up? I’m too goddamned hung-over for this shit,” the redhead muttered irately before rolling over and going back to sleep without another word.
Ikkaku and Iba looked at each other in absolute horror.
“No fuckin’ way.”
END
It's like, 2:30 am...there are BOUND to be mistakes everywhere.