Summary- "A grown man with a pink milk moustache wasn't one of the most arousing sights I'd ever seen, but I had to give him points for making me laugh." ~ AU GrimIchi! Grimmjow's repeated attempts at wooing the ginger, all somehow revolving around their shared love for strawberry milk.

A/N- I do not own bleach, nor do I own strawberry milk, because there is only an empty bottle left. I dedicate this to my empty bottle of strawberry milk, and the wonderful time we shared as I devoured you. 3 You shall forever be in my memory, and I shall never stop loving you. R.I.P.


I survive on a diet of two-minute noodles and strawberry milk.

My name, it just so happens, can be interpreted as 'strawberry' by those with limited intelligence.

This is false.

My name does not mean strawberry, and there is absolutely nothing ironic, or humorous about my obsession with strawberry milk. I can't help that it tastes so damn good. So to avoid confusion, we will refer to my favourite flavour of milk as 'pink milk.'

Now that that's settled we may move on with the story.

Deep breathes.

I first met Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez during my night shift at the local convenience store. It was late, the streets were dead, and my mind was stuck dreaming about the warm bed I had waiting for me back at my apartment. I worked this job to pay for my high school tuition fees, rent and food; suffice to say I worked a lot, and had never had a high tolerance of inconsiderate people.

The man infuriated me; almost everything about him rubbed me the wrong way. He was arrogant, crude, impulsive and didn't care about how much of my time he took up loitering in the store. When, at my insistence, he waltzed up to the counter and smashed a bottle of pink milk down before me, I got the impression that he was extremely self assured and cared little for time. Stubborn bastard.

What a jerk. Who did he think he was, keeping me here at this late an hour for his own perverse humour?

And while his insensitive behaviour had me fuming, the fact that a part of me was reluctant to see him leave, enraged me all the more. I chalked it up to how good he was to look at; grade-A eye candy, it was the only thing he had going for him.

His body was that of a god, which in earthly terms might be comparable to a superficially enhanced underwear model. The fact that his otherworldly physique was covered by nothing more than a short pair of baby blue swimming trunks didn't help quell my blush.

His hair was an insanely bright shade of cornflour blue, not that I had any right to point fingers, with my mess of traffic-cone orange quills. It was styled up and blown back as if he'd been blasting it with a sonic hair dryer his whole life, and a couple of defiant strands hung over his forehead.

He smelt like the ocean; salt, sunscreen, fun, freedom and everything else I associated with the beach hung off his skin like cologne. Confident stance, cocky grin and lazy hands teasing the waistband of his shorts, revealing perfectly angular hipbones and an incredible six-pack; everything about him screamed sex appeal and freedom.

I realised too late that I'd been ogling him, and I couldn't help but blush as I hurried to snatch the milk, while he grinned like the Cheshire cat and mocked me with his twinkling ocean eyes.

"Will that be all today sir?" I ground out, scanning the bottle and sliding it back over to him.

"Nah, I don't think this'll be enough to satisfy my craving for strawberry, do you Ichigo? " he purred, in a deep, incredibly sexy baritone, grinning at my name-tag and eyeing me like I was the candy here.

"Growing boys do need their milk." I shrugged, a strained smirk tugging at my lips as my eyebrow twitched in irritation. "Don't you have a mommy to suckle from?"

He threw his head back and laughed, a low, contagious chuckle that caressed my ears, and my backbone almost crumbled.

"Perhaps there's a product you can suggest, that will sate a growing boy like me, Ichigo." His sultry insistence on repeating my name so sensually did things to my body I would never admit. "Although I can assure you, I've done a lot of my growing already…" He was purring again, leaning over the counter, his elbows propping his body up.

That last statement of his had my cheeks burning like hot coals and a gush of perverted images waging war in my mind as my witty tongue failed to find a retort.

During my silence, he took a large swig from the bottle, eyes never leaving mine as I watched the milk disappear down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, and a dribble of pink sliding down his jaw.

He pulled away with a dripping pink milk moustache over his top lip.

While seeing a grown man with a pink milk moustache wasn't one of the most arousing sights I'd ever seen, I had to give him points for making me laugh. His confidence faltered for a second as the tension vanished and his grin faded. He looked so vulnerable for the split second I was laughing at him that I took pity on the asshole and went to great efforts to stifle my chuckles and make a stern face once again.

Then, as I finally regained some wits and snatched his money, he shocked me yet again. As I turned around, he was so far into my personal space that it startled me. He then grinned insanely and stole my first kiss.

It was an awkward first kiss, him coming up from under me slightly, and me getting the full brunt of the pink milk moustache. It tasted so good on his skin; sweet and fruity. A shiver of attraction zipped through my body; it was like a bolt of electricity. I shoved him away and forcefully kicked him out of the store, blushing and scowling as he ran off laughing into the night.

At the time, I was worked up, angry and uncharacteristically turned on as he was dashing off, never to be seen again. I didn't even know his name, and I didn't quite know how to feel about that.

But when I returned to the counter, somewhat downtrodden, I realised I must have spent longer zoning out and ogling him than I initially thought, because he'd somehow found the time to scribble a note down on his receipt.

He'd left me his name; Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and a number to call. A ghost of a smile bloomed on my face, as butterflies erupted in my stomach and my heart beat a second too fast for the rest of my body.

If I'd only had some idea of the future I might have been smart and burned that note in the deepest fires of hell and scattered its ashes in the sea. But I've never really known what's good for me, have I?


A/N- So far this is just a oneshot, If you would like to see it continued, I'm sure leaving a review will drastically increase my motivation to follow it up.

Thanks for your time!