Ficpost -- How couldn't you notice?
Series: Bleach
Characters: Ichigo and Orihime
Rating: PG-13 Fumbling, teenager interaction, but nothing graphic beyond a grope
Notes: Originally for bleach_quickies , this fic ran long, so I decided to post it here.
It's something Kurosaki tried to keep quiet all day. When the boys snickered and jested, he turned the glare on them. Sure as rain in winter, they chilled and straightened up their act until out of earshot. Truth be told, he couldn't help but think it was cute, though he wondered if the sticker on Orihime's breast was placed there intentionally.
The final bell rang, and Ichigo hastened his pace across the schoolyard to ditch Keigo who wouldn't shut up about the new Final Fantasy game being released. Like he cared! Turning the corner, he promptly stumbled face first into the pavement. Behind him came a chain of apologies and excuses so confoundingly jumbled together, that the boy just snorted in the dust before picking himself up. Tentative, nervous hands dusted his arms and then his chest until he grasped then in annoyance.
Orihime watched him wide-eyed and mouth gaping. Each spoke the other's name in unison and just as quickly averted their eyes. It was Ichigo who looked back first and particularly to that sticker still on the girl's strained shirt. "Oi, Inoue..." Boldly, he plucked the adhesive-backed picture from her uniform. The face in the photo seemed familiar...
"Uwaaah~" Despite both wrists still caught in his one hand, she reached for the picture. "You found brother's photo! I looked for it all night!" That's right. Icigho realized he'd seen this face behind a Hollow's mask once. With an uncharacteristic tenderness, he smoothed the sticker right back over the girl's heart while she babbled on some explanation of being too poor to afford camera developing and photo booths in the mall. Those words trailed off with the flush blooming over her cheeks.
Realizing just how incriminating it appeared to be holding a girl's wrists in one hand and her breast in the other (unintentionally!) Ichigo lifted his hands and stood before his blushing schoolmate dumbly. "Kurosaki-kun is blushing," Orihime observed as her bangs obstructed her gaze coyly.
Swallowing hard, Ichigo watched the busty girl fidgit with the photosticker on her chest. "I am not," his mouth twisted downward, just as reflexive as the denial. Unable to formulate any further excuse, he blurted, "I'm going home." So-- yeah, good-bye or whatever.
This time Orihime caught him by the wrist. He could have dragged her across the sidewalk if he truly wished, but he stopped and in that moment of stillness, the girl embraced him. "Come to my apartment." Her whispered words seeped into his shirt as a moist warmth. "I want to show you more pictures of big brother, ok?" Intoxicated by the cinnamon scent of her hair, Ichigo nodded mutely.
That evening, Inoue Orihime sprawled across her futon, covered in tiny photos of herself and her brother through various ages, schoolmates, and her best friend Tatsuki. Ichigo didn't mind all the smiling faces watching him at the time, but now as he basked, he couldn't help but feel he'd done something extremely dirty.
---
I can't bring myself to write anything short on these two that doesn't involve Ichigo getting abused somehow. I'll try again later.
Characters: Ichigo and Orihime
Rating: PG-13 Fumbling, teenager interaction, but nothing graphic beyond a grope
Notes: Originally for bleach_quickies , this fic ran long, so I decided to post it here.
It's something Kurosaki tried to keep quiet all day. When the boys snickered and jested, he turned the glare on them. Sure as rain in winter, they chilled and straightened up their act until out of earshot. Truth be told, he couldn't help but think it was cute, though he wondered if the sticker on Orihime's breast was placed there intentionally.
The final bell rang, and Ichigo hastened his pace across the schoolyard to ditch Keigo who wouldn't shut up about the new Final Fantasy game being released. Like he cared! Turning the corner, he promptly stumbled face first into the pavement. Behind him came a chain of apologies and excuses so confoundingly jumbled together, that the boy just snorted in the dust before picking himself up. Tentative, nervous hands dusted his arms and then his chest until he grasped then in annoyance.
Orihime watched him wide-eyed and mouth gaping. Each spoke the other's name in unison and just as quickly averted their eyes. It was Ichigo who looked back first and particularly to that sticker still on the girl's strained shirt. "Oi, Inoue..." Boldly, he plucked the adhesive-backed picture from her uniform. The face in the photo seemed familiar...
"Uwaaah~" Despite both wrists still caught in his one hand, she reached for the picture. "You found brother's photo! I looked for it all night!" That's right. Icigho realized he'd seen this face behind a Hollow's mask once. With an uncharacteristic tenderness, he smoothed the sticker right back over the girl's heart while she babbled on some explanation of being too poor to afford camera developing and photo booths in the mall. Those words trailed off with the flush blooming over her cheeks.
Realizing just how incriminating it appeared to be holding a girl's wrists in one hand and her breast in the other (unintentionally!) Ichigo lifted his hands and stood before his blushing schoolmate dumbly. "Kurosaki-kun is blushing," Orihime observed as her bangs obstructed her gaze coyly.
Swallowing hard, Ichigo watched the busty girl fidgit with the photosticker on her chest. "I am not," his mouth twisted downward, just as reflexive as the denial. Unable to formulate any further excuse, he blurted, "I'm going home." So-- yeah, good-bye or whatever.
This time Orihime caught him by the wrist. He could have dragged her across the sidewalk if he truly wished, but he stopped and in that moment of stillness, the girl embraced him. "Come to my apartment." Her whispered words seeped into his shirt as a moist warmth. "I want to show you more pictures of big brother, ok?" Intoxicated by the cinnamon scent of her hair, Ichigo nodded mutely.
That evening, Inoue Orihime sprawled across her futon, covered in tiny photos of herself and her brother through various ages, schoolmates, and her best friend Tatsuki. Ichigo didn't mind all the smiling faces watching him at the time, but now as he basked, he couldn't help but feel he'd done something extremely dirty.
---
I can't bring myself to write anything short on these two that doesn't involve Ichigo getting abused somehow. I'll try again later.