#at first i wanted it to take place when he was still in hueco mundo but then i thougth “fuck it” and changed it to this

[andreawritesit]

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Aizen x Wife!Reader

Warnings: none really.

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Prologue: Here

Chapter 1

Time had passed. Hinamori had recovered almost fully and the Soul Society was starting to regain the peace that had been disturbed by the treacherous captains. Head Captain Yamamoto had finally issued a statement regarding the betrayal and the ex-captains. The three squads left without their captains were being monitored by their lieutenants for the time being. After trying really hard to ignore the memories, you had finally taken up on Ukitake’s offer and moved to another room. Aizen’s face haunted you day and night. Not the one you were used to, the one with glasses resting on his nose and a kind smile on his face, no. The face that had taken over your dreams was the one he unveiled while leaving the Soul Society; the one that no longer had strands of hair decorating it, the one that had discarded the kindness from itself. With the vast lifespan shinigami had, you wondered if any amount of time would ever heal the scars he had left on your soul.  Whatever short amount of time you had felt peaceful was once again destroyed by Aizen’s schemes. Orihime Inuoe had been on her way back to the World of Living when she disappeared halfway. Every possibility was taken into account and an emergency meeting had been scheduled with the Captains and lieutenants present in the World of Living. Upon hearing that Orihime had apparently healed Ichigo’s injuries, Yamamoto had decided that she had defected on her own and declared her a traitor. That hadn’t stopped the orange-haired man from heading to Hueco Mundo by himself. All that had led to this:

You were currently with Kisuke Urahara, the banished ex-captain of squad 12. You were helping him with transporting the real Karakura town to Soul Society as word had spread that Aizen would be attacking the town shortly. You had nearly lost your mind by this point. After all, you’d be seeing him again. You were sitting on the roof of a house, thinking over how your reunion with your traitor of a husband would go. Would he even acknowledge your presence? He hadn’t hesitated to stab his loyal lieutenant. What if he had also never cared for you, even once? What if he decided to kill you too? Would you be able to strike him back?

“Ahem.” You turned around at the sound of the very obviously fake cough. Ukitake stood behind you with a warm smile gracing his face. Maybe the cough wasn’t so fake… 

“Captain Ukitake, I’m sorry I didn’t notice you there.” He laughed and sat beside you. 

“Of course you didn’t. You were lost in your thoughts.” His voice was gentle. 

“Yes. I was thinking about…”

“About Aizen?” You sighed and held your head in your hands. It was so obvious how rattled you were with the situation. Ukitake didn’t say anything but wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave you a light pat. The white-haired captain had been by your side throughout these turbulent times. His calm presence had been a silent shore in the loud sea of your emotions. Even now, when there was an inevitable war looming over your heads, he had found time to sit down and reassure you, knowing that the upcoming confrontation would be the hardest on you. 

“What if I won’t be able to stand against him? All this time, I’ve been telling myself that I’m strong enough to keep my emotions in check and stand for what’s right. But what if I’m not? What if when I see him, I’ll fall back into his arms? What then Captain?”

“I understand why you feel that way. We have known Sosu-Aizen for a long time. His betrayal came as a shock to all of us. But you shared a deeper bond with him. You have known him in the most intimate ways. I say I understand but the truth is that I will never be able to feel what you do. To have someone so beloved abandon and betray me… I’m not sure I would’ve been able to go on as you have. You’re stronger than you believe you are. And even if you do fall weak to your emotions, there’s nothing wrong with that. He is your husband; you have loved him more than anyone. It won’t be unseemly if you want to run to him in a moment of emotional vulnerability. Just don’t let him use your love as a weapon.”

You didn’t say anything in response. Every word he said was true and yet there was still doubt lingering in your mind. Not because you thought Sosuke might sway you to his side, but because if you did show emotional attachment to him still, you might lose everything else. Yamamoto had been very strict in his words when he had said that anyone found to have any sort of contact with the traitors would be counted as one and dealt with as such. You were torn between your feelings and your duties. And yet all you could do was wait. Wait until he showed up there.

Ukitake sensed your despair and hugged you sideways. You wanted to hide away in his embrace but he let go of you quickly. Getting up, he offered you his hand.

“Come on now, get up. Time to meet up with others.” You took his hand and stood up. He was right. It was time to get up. 

-------- at Urahara’s shop ---------

The meeting had gone by quite quickly. They all had their orders. You were sitting next to Urahara who was busy tinkering around with something. At first, you focused on the teacup in your hand. But soon curiosity got the best of you and you glanced his way. You almost wanted to facepalm when you saw what he was doing. Kisuke Urahara, in this time of war, was fixing his fan. You put the cup down and tapped his shoulder. He turned around quickly and gave you his signature stupid smirk.

“Oh, is the beautiful miss interested in my doings?” you couldn’t help but chuckle at the man’s words.

“No sir, not quite. I’m only wondering how your poor fan got broken like that.”

His smile turned upside down and he let out a dramatic sigh. “How kind of you to ask. This is the doing of Yoruichi sama. She’s so careless around things. She has broken my delicate fan four times already.”

“How impolite of her! Breaking a man’s fan like that!”

“Exactly! And when I request her not to be so reckless with my things, she just hits me in response. She has no regard for me or my things.”

His words bring out laughter from you, a sound you hadn’t heard in a while. Kisuke looked at you with a gentle smile and went back to fixing his fan. After a few moments, you finally stopped laughing and stood up.

“Hey Kisuke?”

He turned to look at you and you nodded at him. “Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“You know for what. I’ll be with the Captains and lieutenants now.”

He tipped his hat at you and you left the room. After looking around for a bit, you finally found the others assembled on the roofs of some houses. You went to them and stood next to Ukitake who welcomed you with a smile. Shunsui was sitting on a roof, looking as bored as ever. Upon your arrival, he stood up and walked to where you and Ukitake were. 

“Well well, if it isn’t the one who stole my best friend!” he commented as he nudged you with his shoulder. You smirked back at him and hung your arm around Ukitake’s shoulder. 

“It isn’t my fault if I’m better company than you, isn’t that right Captain Ukitake?” The Squad 13 captain just shook his head at you both. 

Your little banter was suddenly cut off by the abrupt presence of dense spiritual pressure. And soon enough, a Garganta opened right above where you were standing. Everybody rose up into the sky and readied themselves to unsheathe their zanpakutos. You stood between Ukitake and Shunsui, hand on your own zanpakuto. You were trying your best to calm your nerves and then you felt it. He was here. Surely enough, three people walked out of the opening. Your eyes went straight to him. Aizen. He was standing between Ichimaru Gin and Kaname Tosen. His eyes almost immediately found you and you both were locked in each other’s gaze. He looked so different yet so familiar. His hair was slicked back, with only a few strands falling across his face. His glasses were gone and he looked taller than before, if it was even possible. While observing him, you felt someone grab your wrist. You saw Ukitake from the corner of your eyes as he squeezed your hand to reassure you.

This wasn’t missed by Aizen’s keen eyes as he saw Ukitake’s hand grab yours. An unexpected emotion flashed in his mind and he had to look away. Had you finally moved on from him? With the Squad 13 captain? He scoffed at his own assumptions and summoned Gin to him. 

“Anytime now.”

Gin understood his captain at once. After all, they had come to this wretched town for only two things, the Oken and his captain’s wife. But before they could even move an inch, Yamamoto used his Ryujinjakka to trap them inside the burning fire. 

You watched in awe as the Head Captain conjured a fiery prison for the traitors. As the fire encircled them, the last thing you saw sent chills down your spine. Aizen had smiled.   

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tag list @fabulouslyflamboyant5 (let me know if anyone else wants to be added) ---------------------------------------------------- Next part: here

[electronicwitchcollection]

Here’s the third instalment of “Accidental mate” warnings! This does contain smut! hope you enjoy!

Grimmjow walked back into the room a few hours later, unsatisfied with his hunt. It had taken him too long to stumble across a lower hollow, and by that time he had too much pent up frustration. He had ripped into the hollow with manic sadism, relishing in the thrill of the kill. He didn't think to eat before the hollow fizzled away back to hell.

His growling stomach had brought him reluctantly back to the room in time for dinner, though now that his eyes laid you curled up in the bed, he suddenly had a very different hunger. You were breathing softly, lips parted ever so slightly. Curled up on yourself, fingers gently holding the sheet in comfort. You still wore Grimmjows musk, though faded the scent still lingered on your skin, mixing with your own salty sweet smell. It made Grimmjows mouth water.

He didn't know how long he stood there staring at you, a current of arousal flowing over his skin like electrical static. A knock at the door startled him from his watching. Grimmjow snapped into a defensive position, crouching low to the floor, arms spread to block an attack from getting to you venerably sleeping on the bed. His teeth were bared as a feline snarl ripped from his throat.

The warning growl woke you up, shooting up to a sitting position on high alert, eyes darting around wildly looking for the threat. When a tentative knock came from the door, you relaxed, shoulders sagging in relief. Grimmjow hadn't moved from his stance, muscles coiled, ready to spring into action in a split second. A low rumble emitting from his chest.

"Oh for the love of... it's just someone knocking the door Grimmjow." You scolded him gently, shuffling to the edge of the bed to stand up. You walked past Grimmjow, still staring daggers at the door, to open it. The woman who greeted you at the front desk was there, looking awfully uncomfortable at the warning animalistic noises she had heard in response from her knock "don't mind him, he's not fully house trained yet" 

You were rewarded with a strained smile and a petulant huff from behind you at your attempt to lighten the mood. Grimmjow grumbled behind you, muttering a few choice words you'd rather ignore. Instead you smile to the woman "how can we help?"

"I just came to hand you tonight's menu" she said offering you two cards and two pencils "please mark what you would like and how much of each, when you're finished, place it outside your door. Dinner will be brought to your room in little more than an hour " 

"oh fantastic, thank you so much" you say glancing down at the menu. The woman gave a low bow, sliding close the door and getting as far away from the pissed of arrancar as she could

"You hungry?" You call to Grimmjow pacing along the patio door like a caged animal. You sat heavily at the table, hungry eyes grazing over your options for some much needed food

"starving"

"come see what you want then" you slide his menu to the other side of the table, not looking up from your own. It all looked so good. You read through the menu twice, taking in all your options so you could decide, not wanting to tick off too many things. Pencil in hand, you first filled out the drinks option, choosing a bottle of house sake and lychee juice. About to decide on your meal, you notice Grimmjow staring at his menu as though it was about to bite him "something wrong?"

"I don't know what the fuck this says" he grumbled, turning the menu upside down and sneering at the little black markings. You couldn't believe your density at that moment. Grimmjow couldn't read. Of course he couldn't, he had lost all of his human memories at his death. He was a hollow, a hunter. There was no signs or books in hueco mundo, no one to teach him how to read, nor have the need to learn. Your eyes softened as you watched him inquisitively inspect the menu, it was innocent, almost child like

"here pass it back, I'll fill it out for you" you held out a hand expectantly, relieved when he placed it in your hand and not throw another fit. He sat opposite, long legs stretched under the table to lay either side of your own crossed ones "what do you like?" 

"meat"  the blunt answer nearly made you chuckle, silly question. Of course the predator liked meat. You weren't sure how much human food he has had the chance to eat. There were probably hundreds of new flavours and textures for him to try. A few veggies wouldn't hurt him either

"How about I just select a few different ones for us to try? We can lay them all on the table and try a little of each?"  You took Grimmjows shrug as a yes, quickly marking off a few different rice, noodle and vegetable dishes. You chose one or two of each meat dish you could find, then doubling your drink order and adding water. You gathered up the cards and pencils, leaving them just outside your room door.

She said it'll be done in over an hour, plenty of time to get clean and have a well deserved soak in the bath. You stretch your arms above your head as you walked to the draws, earlier shown to be where the towels were kept. You pulled out two, laying one on top of the dresser for Grimmjow.

You rummaged through your back, grabbing the smaller toiletries bag and laying out some sleep clothes on the mattress "Im going to clean up before dinner. You should do the same, that shack wasn't the cleanest" 

Grimmjow just grunted at your comment, a strange feeling fluttering about in his stomach at the idea of you cleaning off his scent. Stepping outside, closing the sliding door behind you, you set down your belongings near the shower before stripping off your clothing. The sky was beginning to darken, air beginning to chill at the retreat of the sun. Confident there wasn't anyone around to see you naked, you walk into the open shower, washing quickly.

The water wasn't as hot as you would've liked, but it got you clean. You washed your hair, familiar fruity smell lingering on your damp strands. The pressure did wonders on your back, falling heavily into your muscles beat away the tension. When a stronger gust of wind blew across your body, skin erupting in goosebumps, you decided to retreat quickly to the hot bubbling bath.

You gingerly stepped in, hissing at the difference of temperature. You were about to slowly ease yourself in, accommodate your body to the temperature when the sliding door flung open suddenly, Grimmjow striding out completely naked

"Grimmjow!" You squeak at him, quickly sitting in the bath, covering yourself with the bubbles. Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow at your girly exclamation, striding across the small patio to stand under the spray of the shower "what the hell are you doing?"

"washing"

"No you dolt". You pinched the bridge of your nose, cheeks flushing a brilliant red. You tried not to watch as Grimmjow rubbed his rough hands all over his body, thick droplets of water trickling down his tanned, sculptured torso... "I'm naked!" 

"So am I"  he shrugged, leaning his head back, letting the spray hit him in the face. Your mouth dried at the sight, his wet hair lost it's pushed back style, falling limply down the sides of his face. It softened his features somewhat, it was different, not bad, just different. He was still infuriating though

"Have you ever heard of privacy? Men and women don't tend to bathe together" Honestly, did you have to teach him everything? Damn animal. Grimmjow chuckled, deep and dirtily, as he abandoned the shower to climb into the bath opposite you, despite your protests. He leaned back against the side, wide arm span draping over the edge.

"You're so weird, been walking around with my seed in ya all day but cry when I see your tits" even with his head leaned back you could see the wrath inducing grin plastered on his face. Smug bastard

"Thats different" you try to defend yourself. A futile attempt, there was no point in arguing with Grimmjow about your values and customs. He either didn't know them or didn't care about them. Grimmjow was amused by your attitude towards nakedness, it was bizarre. Before Aizen made him dress in clothes, he was always naked. It was natural, free. He hated the confines of clothes, they were tight and restrictive. "Just because we slept together once doesn't mean you get to see me naked any time you damn well please "

"Woman, will you shut up" Grimmjow muttered darkly, sinking further into the soothing bubbling water. It smelt strange, a tangy chemical smell that didn't smell safe to drink. But the hot water was soothing, the strong bubbles beat against his muscles, working out the knots in his muscles. He didn't miss the way you said "once" either. The notion made him frown for some reason.

You frowned at his rude dismissal, grumbling under your breath about uncouth animals who should be locked up in a cage. You didn't feel as relaxed in the tub as you had intended, not with Grimmjow spreading his legs and taking up most of the room. The hot water did sooth you though, you had hardly any discomfort left lingering. Grimmjow looked better too. A lot less wound up than he did earlier. Didn't have that crazed, wounded animal look he had worn.

Head hung back, you could see how thick his neck was, Adam's apple protruding proudly. His shoulders were wide, defined, arms spread wide across the lip of the bath, even relaxed his biceps bulged. Speaking of bulges... no. You couldn't go there, not again. He was good looking. You couldn't deny that. If only he didn't act like a rabid animal half time, he could possibly make someone very happy. Just not you. You were too different. Wanted different things.

Your stomach growling loudly reminded you how hungry you were. Grimmjows head snapped up at the loud rumble, giving you a disbelieving look. You flip him the middle finger, deadpan look on your face as he grinned manically at you. You roll your eyes, about to stand when you stopped yourself, painfully aware of how naked you were.

Grimmjow had no such qualms standing upright in one fluid motion, flaccid penis eye level as water trickled down over his abs. Even soft it was a sight to behold. Thick and long, it commanded attention. Grimmjow either didn't notice the blush rushing your face or chose to ignore it. He stepped from the tub, shaking his body to rid himself of the extra water before walking back into the room.

You let out a slow trembling breath when he was out of sight, closing your eyes to clear your mind. No. Not again. No dick was worth putting up with that maniac, not even one as magnificent as that one. Slipping from the tub as quick as you could, you hurriedly got yourself wrapped up in your towel, waiting to give Grimmjow enough time to get dressed before you headed back in

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Itadakimasu!" You proclaim happily, hungrily looking at the feast laid out on the table between you. Sweet and salty sauce covered different meats. Boiled, fried and battered, the tender chunks of meat gave off the most mouthwatering smell. The veggies were vibrant and green, seasoned generously and tossed in silky soy sauce. You eagerly picked up your chopsticks, handing the spare pair over to Grimmjow before selecting a particularly succulent looking piece of pork and popping it in your mouth

Juice burst in your mouth with a sweet, Smokey taste covering your tongue. You moaned appreciatively, wriggling happily on your plump pillow. You reached over for your lychee juice, chewing slowed as you watched Grimmjow fumble with his chopsticks, awkwardly holding them at odd angles, unable to get them to pinch

"Have you used chopsticks before?" You asked after you swallowed, sipping happily on your fruity drink. Grimmjow frowned at his chopsticks, fumbling with the wooden instruments. Getting them somewhat secure in his fingers he reached for the same pork you had eaten, growling when the chopsticks crossed uncoordinatedly and the meat fell back onto the plate with a splat in the sauce

"hat wearing pervert showed me once"  the description made you chuckle, two men immediately springing to mind. The fact that captan Kyoraku tended to prefer a liquid diet consisting of his favourite sake, you were leaning more towards Urahara who always had a dirty innuendo on the tip of his tongue. It made you wonder what awful nickname he gave to you, so far you had been graced with "woman" and "bitch", but you assumed Grimmjow was more creative than that. 

"Here," you lean over, adjusting the hold he had on them, "keep this bottom one still, use the top to open and close" You watched as he attempted again, securely gripping the meat, lifting up towards his mouth where it slipped free, rolling a sauce stripe down his exposed torso. Grimmjow growled, snapping the chopsticks in half and chucking them across the room. Impossible bastard

He glared at you, daring you to say something. Rolling your eyes you set down your own chopsticks, choosing instead to use your fingers to sample the next dish, some salty green beans. They crunched loudly in your mouth as you held his eye contact. His lip curled up at the corners before digging in, shovelling food into his mouth with much less grace than you had.

You had spent the following twenty minutes in near silence, save from explaining what certain dishes were and encouraging Grimmjow to try some of the veggies. The salty beans he enjoyed. The broccoli he did not. You laughed as he noisily spat it back out, thankfully landing in one of the already empty bowls

"that's fucking disgusting". He grimaced, reaching for the sake bottle and drinking hurriedly to get rid of the taste. You popped a piece of broccoli in your mouth, one that hasn't already been chewed and spat back out,enjoying the slight crunch of the steamed vegetable,

"don't be a baby, broccoli is good for you"

"nothing that tastes like that can be good for you"  He glared venomously at the offending green. Pushing it further away on the table for good measure. You were surprised at how much of the food had been eaten, Grimmjow had one hell of an appetite. You began clearing away the empty dishes, stacking them neatly on the trey ready to be left outside your door and Grimmjow scavenged the last few morsels of meat.

Belly warm and full of food, you glanced longingly at the bed. You felt great, no longer aching thanks to the wonderful hot tub outside, comfortable in your sleep clothes, fuzzy due to the sake. As Grimmjow obscenely sucked off the remaining juices from his fingers, you finish adding them empty bowls to the tray before leaving it just outside your door. You stretch languidly as you made your way to the bed

"Im going to call it a night"  you alert the Espada around a yawn, falling heavily into the mattress and wrapping the blanket around you snugly. The room suddenly plunged into darkness, the lantern that was once illuminating the space blown out with a puff of breath. You couldn't hear where Grimmjow was in the room, his silent feet made no noise on the wooden flooring. As your eyes begin to adjust in the dark, sliver of moonlight penetrating the dark though the small window, you could just about make out his dark silhouette pacing around the room, watching him til you drifted off to sleep.

Grimmjow outed the light, about ready to join you on the bed when your naked form flashed through his memory. The image of you naked, wet from your shower about to plunge into the tubs depths had him suddenly stopping in the middle of the room. The bath and the food had distracted him enough to ignore the undercurrent of his rutting season. Now that he was satisfied, his hunger began creeping back in, the darkness of night heightening his instincts. It was infuriating.

Grimmjow had managed to fight against his instincts his whole life, resisting his urges and taking control of his more primal demands. He was strong, he was powerful, he was in control. The one night he had given in to those urges, the tightly wrapped leash he had on his animalistic urges snapped, giving free reign to the insatiable beast, hungry for his mate.

Mate. That word flickered through his thoughts again. Grimmjow had no mate. Didn't want a mate, he was a lone wolf, depending on no one but himself. He especially wouldn't pick a mate as weak as you, a shinigami no less. Yet his body vibrated with longing need, muscles bunching, ready to spring out and capture you. You sighed softly, moving around in your sleep. It was a delicate sound, weak, sparking protective instincts he wasn't aware he possessed. It disgusted him. 

Grimmjow growled, low and dangerous. All these new thoughts and feelings were pissing him off. He had decided bitterly that he would just sleep outside, away from you and your bewitching pheromones. After tomorrow, he wouldn't have to see you again. Can get back to what was important, training and fighting. He still owed Ichigo a beating. As his fingers wrapped around the smooth handle of the sliding door, you let out a small whimper, rolling over to your back.

His pupils dilated, elongating to feline slits as his head snapped to your direction. Rational thought clouded by his most primal of instincts, interwoven with rutting season's unrelenting increase of testosterone. His cock hardened in the influx of endorphins, aching to be buried in your tight wet heat. Silently he stalked you, inching closer to your warm smell. He didn't like it as much as when it was fused with his own musk, but it was sweet, tasty.

Lightly he jumped on the bed, landing in a crouch on the balls of his feet, hands spread wide over the soft nest, weight hardly displacing the spongy material. Skin burning, Grimmjow pulled off his jacket, letting it fall where it liked to the floor below. His eyes had no problem seeing in the dark, sharp and focused they studied your face. Relaxed, smooth skin. Your pink lips were parted with soft even breaths. Unaware, unknowing of the presence that loomed over you, hungry, dangerous.

Grimmjow leaned over you, pushing back your hair to expose the angry bite mark left by his own teeth. The sight had his length twitching in the confines of his trousers, engorged and ready to mount. He could feel your jugular vein pulsate in the air, throbbing with blood, hidden beneath your delicate skin as he lowered his head, inhaling deeply at your throat. A steady stream of purr like rumbles echoed in his chest as he licked a hot wet stripe at the side of your neck, tasting the salty bite.

You moaned, tilting your head away from the sensation distrusting your sleep, little crease appearing between your brows. Grimmjow pulled the blanket from you, pushing it to the side. You stir as Grimmjow parts your thighs, manoeuvring to kneel between the gap created. Your eyes flickered open, confused and dazed under the heavy weight of sleep. Uncoordinated limbs push futilely against his hands on your thighs, attempting to brush him off while you gather your bearings

"Grimmjow? What are you..?" Voice thick with sleep, you mumble groggily trying to blink away the sleep. Grimmjow ignored you, dipping his head to smell your clothed cunt, fingers digging under your sleep dress to grip hold of the elasticated waist band off your panties. You jumped back into conciseness, slamming your thighs together, kneeing him harshly in the jaw.

Grimmjow growled, seizing your wrists as you lash out at him, angrily attempting to punch him into sense "what the fuck are you doing?!"  You seething spit the words through clenched teeth. This was beyond acceptable. You knew he didn't always understand what was acceptable to humans, and that he was struggling with his rutting season, but this was too much. "You can't just..!" 

Grimmjow slammed your hands above your head, towering over you menacingly as he pinned you to the bed. Your breath got caught in your throat, pinned in this prerogative position, solid wall of muscle dominating you to submission. "Want you" his lust filled drawl washed over your face, intense eyes trapping you in their hypnotic stare. "Grimmjow" you whisper his name, mind swimming in contradictory emotions.

"Want you" he growled deeper, rolling his hips into you, thick erection prodding against your centre, leaving no room for doubt exactly what he wanted you for. You were angry at his brutish attempt of seduction, rudely awakening you from your slumber. Offended at the way he man handled you, attempting to use your body to stifle his erotic urges. You had offered to help him the previous night, you didn't think you had to elaborate that invitation didn't extend for his whole rutting season.

And yet you felt a gush of liquid surge through your pussy, slick arousal dampening your folds at the feeling of his girth pressing into you. Your body flushed with heat, tingling with excited apprehension of feeling him in you again, bringing you to the most painful pleasure you've ever endured. The strong hold he had on your wrists, the masculine, husky tone in which he confessed his desire for you lit a flame of desperation in your stomach.

Your body was betraying your indignant thoughts, coming alive in his hold. You had gone months without the thrill of sex, but one taste and your resolve crumbled, body reacting to his uncouth stimulus, craving intimacy, the burning drag of being so completely filled, the blinding pleasure as you orgasmed.

You saw a shimmer of uncertainty flash on his face as the silence prolonged between you. He began to shiver, seemingly clinging to the control he had. His forehead leaned forward to touch your own, shakily panting over your face "say yes" his eyes screwed shut in concentration, restraint rapidly reaching the edge of his control "say yes" he pleaded desperately, hands tightening on your wrists, hips slowly rolling, dragging his cock against your centre.

You knew in that moment that If you refused, he would rip himself from you. He would leave the inn, create as much space between you as he physically could, so not to do something to hurt you. "Yes". You whisper, nodding your head softly under the weight of his own.

Grimmjow sighed in relief, giving you a look you couldn't decipher. He nuzzled almost tenderly in the side of your neck, lavishing the skin with little kitten licks. He stroked his cheek against your own, firmly smoothing his skin over your cheek, your neck. He was scent marking you, desperate attempt to get you smelling as strongly as his own scent and for as long as possible. It wasn't detectable by shinigami, but any hollow nearby would immediately pick up the scent for what it was. A warning, possessively claiming, and to braver, or less intelligent beings, a challenge.

The alpha in Grimmjow basked in the scent, in the claim. You were his, completely his. "Mine" Grimmjow muttered into your neck, inhaling deeply his own scent left on your skin. His hands released your wrists, dragging them down the length of your arms held in place by the weight of his look. His large hands smoothed their way over your covered breasts, down your stomach to grip hold of the hem of your covering. Your hands shot down, holding his own hands gently

Grimmjow snapped his head up to look you in the face, warning glaze filling his eyes. You squeezed his hands reassuringly, prying them off your gown to roll it up your body yourself. You didn't want Grimmjow to rip apart every article of clothing you owned. He watched predatorily, hungrily taking in every new inch of skin you revealed. Pulling it over your head, you offer a small smile, praise for his patience.

Your thumbs hooked into your panties, lifting your ass to slide them down your legs, dropping them to the floor safe away from his grasp just incase temptation became to strong. They were your last clean pair after all. With your cunt uncovered the smell of your arousal was overpowering, filling the space between you. Grimmjow could taste it in the air, mouth salivating at the memory.

Grimmjow lowered himself between your legs, anxious to lap at your juices. His nose brushed though the manicured hair sat atop your pussy, musky scent making his head swim deliriously. He nipped at your mound, teasing his sharp canines over your flesh. He had enough hold on his consciousness to resist sinking them in, leaving another mark claiming you as his own.

While it was extremely tempting, he knew how bitchy you were and he didn't want you to change your mind now that he had you open and willing. He started running his tongue through your folds, the first taste of your sweet nectar exploding over his taste buds. Your inner walls were silky, his tongue glided across the hot flesh effortlessly.

Grimmjow had always had exceptional senses. Sight, smell and hearing were perfectly honed to hunt, giving him an advantage in battle. When in his rutting season however, they heightened drastically, everything sharpening and focusing to near perfect clarity. Grimmjow could feel every tiny hair on your body, every minuscule vibration you gave. He could hear your blood pumping through your veins, your lungs pulling in deep, desperate breaths.

Your soft moans ignited something within him, the wet squelch of his tongue as it delved in your depths pulling more of that addicting juice from you, sinfully hardened his aching cock. He could smell the salty sweat appearing on your body, the heady, sweet tang staining his lips. Every sense was hyper focused on you, every move, every smell, every taste. Eating you out was quickly becoming something he enjoyed doing. He had never wasted time with this before, hollows and arrancars had no need for preparation.

Grimmjow was a quick learner. For never having heard about foreplay before, he was doing a pretty damn good job at pulling lustful moans from your lips. His tongue delved in deep, wriggling the appendage over all he could reach, rolling over the sensitive pleasure spots that had you panting. Steadily building you up closer to the blissful release you so desperately craved.

His fingers dug painfully into the soft flesh of your thighs, keeping them open obscenely wide, spreading your lower lips to accommodate his face pushing into you. Everything about Grimmjow was rough, from the way he talked and fought to the way he mated. It was all brutal, efficient. No easing you into it or soft touches. The way your body was writhing at his transgressions, you couldn't say you minded all that much.

Grimmjow's cock protested at being neglected, throbbing constantly at the lack of stimulation. His cock head was leaking onto the bed beneath him, a steady stream of his salty essence searching for a bitch to impregnate. Grimmjow grunted into your Cunt, angrily thrusting his tongue into you. His instincts were demanding he mount you, rip through your tight walls and slather your insides with his seed.

His inner beast was was getting impatient, battling to take control of Grimmjows consciousness and rut into his mate. Grimmjow moved his attention from your core to that little bump that had you practically screaming the last time. He shoved two of his thick fingers into your channel, roughly punching them into you. He could feel your walls quivering, steadily stretching around his intrusion, opening up ready for his cock.

A pleasure filled scream ripped from your mouth, you quickly stifled the noise with your hand, biting onto your curled fingers. Your hips bucked mindlessly into him, chasing the painful pleasure. A steady stream of moans and strained curses, muffled around your fingers drowned out the sinfully lewd noises being forced from your dripping pussy.

You could feel the band about to snap. All the tension building up, pushing you to brink ready to cave in in one glorious explosion of relief. Grimmjow growled into your mound, furious at the cries he earned being smothered. He wanted to hear them, deserved to have them. He moved his head to your thigh, sinking his teeth into your flesh while simultaneously using his free hand to wrench away the fingers dampening your vocalisation.

The burst of hot pain pushed you over the edge, band snapping painfully as it thrusted you into an intense orgasm. Hand held tightly at your side, you moan unrestricted into the room, hoarse and raw as pleasure consumed you. You sprayed your release over Grimmjows furious fingers, clamping down tightly over his digits. Grimmjow ripped them from you, shoving them into his mouth to taste the delicacy coating his fingers.

He rumbled deep in his chest, powerful and dominating as he sucked his fingers clean, watching with predatory eyes as you flopped weightless into the mattress, gasping for breath. Your eyes were screwed shut, chest heaving with every pull of oxygen into your starved lungs. Your legs twitched periodically around him as they slumped to the side.

Once your taste had fully left his fingers, Grimmjow gripped your hips, lifting your ass to rest on his folded legs and thrust into you in one fluid motion. Your back arched painfully at the burning breach, gasp caught in your throat choking you. It wasn't as painful as the night before, but still burned through your walls with the overwhelming stretch needed to accommodate his girth.

Grimmjow growled at the vice like grip encasing his cock, squeezing hotly around his sensitive length. Holding your hips in a bruising grip, Grimmjow pulled you onto his cock as he thrusted into you. His eyes were fixed to where you joined, watching as your cunt swallowed his length with every snap of his hips. It was hot and wet, impossibly tight, squeezing around him with rippling clenches

Grimmjow rocked into you with such bruising force that you struggled to take a deep breath. You gasped weakly around uncontrollable moans, hands twisting up the pillow beneath your head in an attempt to anchor you to earth. You've never experienced such consuming pleasure before you had met Grimmjow. He forced you to feel every powerful inch of his cock, the rest of the world dimming into the background

You we're somewhat aware of the fact you weren't alone, sharing the full in with multiple occupants. When Grimmjow increased his speed, rutting into you in a crazed frenzy, you had just enough thought to turn your head and bite into the pillow, muffling your screams. When Grimmjow caught the noise of your muffled cries, his head snapped up, enraged glint in his eyes. He wanted to hear you, wanted to hear his mate scream out at getting fucked raw on his cock.

With a demonic growl, Grimmjow moved his hands from your hips to your waist, yanking you upright to sit on his lap. He glared at you, chest heaving with indignant frustration. "Louder" he growled into your face, accentuating his point with a rough thrust up. You choked on your gasp, new position had him breaching you further. Eyes rolled into the back of your head as you clung onto his wide shoulders, nails digging in little half Cresent indents into his skin

"there's other people here, Grimmjow" you whisper, trying to explain your reluctance in a way that wouldn't send him into a fit of rage. "I don't want to.." you were cut of mid sentence by another rapid roll of his hips

"don't fucking care. Scream. My. Name". Your head lolled forward onto his shoulder, groaning loudly at every brutal thrust he used to strengthen his command. Your mouth hung open, drool dripping from your parted lips, unable to make a sound at his movements. It was too much, too full, too everything. The head of his cock rutted against your cervix with every snap of his hips. His nails dug into your ass as he pushed you into every stroke. He was pushing you to your absolute limit, body not made to accustom such an intimidating appendage.

Grimmjow set a punishing pace, using the string muscles in his thighs to easily plow into you. Soft whimpers and incoherent words of praise were muttered into his sweat soaked skin, moans steadily increasing in pitch and volume. "Grimmjow" the way you moaned his name, tongue lavishly drawing out every syllable, had him going crazy with desire "too much, too big". Your soft complaints did nothing but light a proud fire in his chest

"You can take it"  he darkly told you, licking a wet stripe over your cheek. You didn't know that you could. The knot started forming in the middle of Grimmjows cock, bulging from his length and adding extra texture against your walls. It was almost unbearable, the ridged band rolling against your beaten Cunt. Grimmjows thrusts became short and fast, no longer able to pull out from your abused pussy. The added stimulus made you soar, rapidly reaching your final, explosive orgasm.

"GRIMMJOW" you scream out his name, lost in the crashing wave of euphoria as you came hard. You bit into his shoulder, arms wrapped under his arms to claw at his back, nails leaving deep, angry red marks that had Grimmjow groaning. The feeling of your cunt as you came was indescribable. Gripping his cock in unrelenting waves that rippled over his length.

"Yessss" Grimmjow hissed, finally getting the reaction he had been craving. He held your sagging body tightly to his chest, frenziedly rutting into you with erratic, jerky movements, chasing his own need. Your teeth left him, panting wetly over the stinging mark, hands weakly sliding down his back as your body was sapped of the last of your energy. You rocked with his motions, whining softly at his hurried pace.

"Mine" Grimmjow whispered, nudging your face with his nose, getting you to sleepily turn to face him, Grimmjow stared into your eyes as he came, knot snapping painfully with a fiery rush of his seed shooting from him, painting your walls in thick ropes of his ejaculate. His hips slowly rocked into you, milking every last drop from his cock as he grunted sedated. As he came down from his high, body shaking with the exertion he exhibited.

He felt you slump in his arms, passing out from the overwhelming encounter. Grimmjow held you close, rubbing his scent over your cheek and hair, lightly purring in contentment. When the pull of sleep threatened to blanket him in it's inky darkness , Grimmmjow carefully manoeuvred you both on the bed, taking precautions not to jostle his cock in you too much and risk causing damage. He laid on his back, with you draping over him lifelessly, even breathing washing over his neck.

Grimmjow reached over for the blanket, snagging the corner and dragging it over. He managed to throw it over you, too tried to try arrange it to fully cover you both, leaving his feet sticking out in the open. His arms snuck under the blanket, wrapping them around you, hugging you to his chest as he sighed contently. The steady puffs of air from your breathing, ghosting over the bite mark you left on his shoulder guided him to sleep, happily falling victim to slumber while breathing in his scent mixed with your own.

[recurring-polynya]

Orihime gives Chad a manicure to see if it powers his arm up and also because she thinks it would be a nice thing to do for a friend. Chad is always doing things for other people without a second thought and I think Orihime would pick up on that.

I was rolling this around in my head, trying to decide when I wanted to set it and who else I wanted to be in it, when I got punched in the face with this mildly angsty idea, which ended up twisting the prompt around a little bit. (I feel like I always do this to you 😂. Maybe I do this to everyone.) Anyway, I hope you like it! I love them so much!!!

Takes place in the early Blood War, around the time when Ichigo goes to the Royal Realm, shortly after the first set of battles, while Orihime and Chad are still in Hueco Mundo.

(read on ao3)

💅 💅 💅

Orihime didn't know what she was thinking when she grabbed the nail polish off the shelf in her bathroom. It was a 16-in-1 gel palette set (with 4 metallics!) that she had won last fall as a fifth-place prize in a contest they were holding down at the shopping district last fall. She hadn't yet taken the plastic wrapping off. She had been saving them for a special occasion.

A war was not a special occasion.

Orihime had to admit that she probably panicked a little. Mr. Urahara was opening Garganta back to the Living World twice a day so that Mr. Tessai could bring various supplies that he needed to Hueco Mundo. Orihime had been shooed through so she could pack some clothes and whatever else she needed, and to let Tatsuki know that she wasn't going to be around for a bit. It had made sense at the time, but once she was actually in her apartment, her vision narrowed down to a dark tunnel and she had to gulp big deep breaths of air because it was all too much like the time Ulquiorra had given her twelve hours to say good-bye to just one person.

She got it together eventually and did manage to find Tatsuki and Keigo and Mizuiro, too. (Ishida wasn't around, but he had known where they were going.) Still, though, she wondered what she had been thinking when she got back to Hueco Mundo and found her bag packed with every pair of underwear she owned, her winter coat, a jumbo-sized box of Hello Panda that she must have stopped somewhere to buy, and the nail polish.

There had been a lot of waiting around, once she had finished healing everyone who needed healing, so maybe she had been thinking it would be a nice way to pass the time. Maybe she had thought the Tres Bestia would like it. They probably would have, but Urahara had already sent time off on some errand. Nel wasn't interested, although she was very interested in the Hello Panda.

So Orihime painted her own nails. She painted her pinkies and her thumbs with the metallic silver, and then drew on the six-petaled flower of her hairpins on top in teal. She painted the rest of her nails in teal. She had planned to paint a flower for each of her Shun Shun Rikka on each of the remaining six nails. The left hand actually came out pretty good! The right…

"Is something the matter, Inoue?"

Orihime blinked rapidly and looked up. She'd been staring so hard at her own efforts that her eyes had gone dry.

Sado had been sitting nearby, reading a book, with a massive set of headphones over his ears, things he had brought back from his own whirlwind trip home. Sado hadn't had much to say since Ichigo left, but Orihime had noticed that he preferred to stay within eyeshot of her. Tatsuki's cat did that with Tatsuki's mom, who had rescued her from a sewer grate as a kitten. Now, Sado was peering down at her, the headphones slung loosely around his neck.

"Ohhhh, I was just wishing I had put the camellia on my left hand," Orihime sighed. "Ayame and Hinagiku will understand if their flowers are a little shaky, but Tsubaki is going to be so mad."

Sado frowned thoughtfully. "Would you like me to help?"

Orihime's mouth dropped into a soft 'o'. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. She'd seen the doodles Sado did in the margins of his schoolwork. It was usually graffiti-style Spanish words, but sometimes (usually when class was particularly boring) he'd draw out an entire lion, all rippling muscles and fangs, or a sleek motorcycle with highlights and shading that made it look like it made of chrome and leather and rubber, even though it was really all just pencil.

"The brush is very small," she said stupidly.

"It's fine," said Sado.

Barely a minute later, a miniscule camellia graced her right index finger, perfect right down to the lacy stamen.

"How did you do that?" Orihime gasped.

"I don't know a lot of flowers," Sado admitted, "but I know how to draw camellias. Abarai and I used to have a lot of time to kill while we were recovering from throwing boulders at each other. He can only draw about three things, but one of them is camellias."

"What are the other two?" Orihime asked shyly. The idea of big, tough Abarai drawing anything was very cute to her. She wondered if one of them was bunny-people.

"Skulls," said Sado. "And Zabimarus."

The last they had heard, Abarai had been very badly injured and so had Rukia, but both were expected to make it. Orihime pressed her lips together. Of course they were going to make it. They were both very, very tough. Next time she saw Abarai, she would ask him to draw a Zabimaru for her.

"Do you want me to do the other two?" Sado asked.

"It's a daisy and a hibiscus," Orihime said. "Do you know how to draw those?"

"I can manage a daisy," Sado agreed. "I am actually pretty good at hibiscus." That made sense, of course, given Sado's collection of tropical shirts.

"Thank you, Sado," she said, watching him work. He was very good at using pressure on the brush to get little petal-shaped blobs of paint. She wondered if he ever painted, in addition to drawing.

Sado sucked in a breath. "Do you think…" he started, and then started again. "Do you think we could do mine next?"

"What? Yes! Of course!" For a moment, Orihime was so excited to have finally found a taker that it took her a moment to be surprised. "I didn't know you liked to paint your nails, Sado-kun!"

Sado finished the hibiscus before speaking. "I don't. I mean. I haven't ever. Before."

"It'll be your first time, you mean?"

"Yes." Sado paused. "But I've wanted to. Ichigo and I went to a punk show once. A band he liked. He painted his nails black. I was…I mean, it looked…well. It's Ichigo. You know. He's braver than me."

Orihime started to argue with that, then stopped herself. "Not many people are braver than Ichigo," she said instead.

Sado gave a curt nod. "That's why I want to do it."

They did his left hand in white and red and black, with bold stripes and zigzags and a slightly melty-looking skull on his ring finger.

"Should we do the right in black and bright pink?" Orihime asked, eying the same beautiful fuschia Sado had painted her hibiscus with.

"No," said Sado. "My right hand is the one that protects. I want to paint it with the things I want to protect. So for the first one, I want you to paint it silver, with a teal flower, just like yours."

For a second, Orihime couldn't breathe. "Sado-kun," she finally said, "shouldn't Ichigo be the first one?"

"Ichigo is the first person I want to protect," Sado agreed. "But you were the first person I trained with. You're the person I've always trained with. So you should be first."

She couldn't argue with that, so Sado's thumb got painted to match hers. Orihime wasn't very confident in her ability to draw Ichigo's substitute badge, but Sado believed in her, and they both agreed that Ichigo wouldn't mind if it was a little wobbly. They did the background in sparkly gold, which they also both agreed that Ichigo would approve of.

They were going to be fighting Quincy--they had already been fighting Quincy--but they decided to paint the middle finger white with a blue cross anyway, because Ishida had it first. Just because the rest of the Quincy were turning out to be jerks didn't change how they felt about him. The middle finger felt somehow appropriate for that.

There was some debate over disrespectfulness, but they couldn't bring themselves to do it the other way around, so the ring finger was for Abarai (a black lightning bolt on a red ground) and the pinkie for Rukia (a silver snowflake on purple).

Orihime looked down at Sado's hands resting on the table. They were wide and powerful, with thick, knobbly boxer's knuckles and traced with silvery scars. His fingers were long and elegant, though, slightly tapered with square, even nails, now covered in bright colors and sparkles.

Orihime placed her own hands on the table, spreading her fingers wide to mirror his.

"I'm glad I brought the nail polish," she declared, to herself more than anyone else. "They don't have enough color in Hueco Mundo."

"Mm," Sado agreed.

It occurred to Orihime that both the shinigami and their enemies favored black and white, at least officially. But when she thought of her friends, she could only think of splashes of color--the wrap of a sword hilt, the flutter of a scarf. Eyeshadow and bright hair and the lining of a haori.

"Do you like it?" Orihime asked.

"I do," said Sado.

"It might chip," she warned. "Just let me know. I'll fix it if it does."

Sado smiled down softly at their colorful, sparkly, not-quite-matching fingertips, nearly touching. "I know you will."

[gallusrostromegalus]

For the fic writer ask meme, #8: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Here's a bit from An Elephant Is Soft And Mushy, where after Kenpachi goes on a short visit to what will later be Hueco Mundo, he and Byakuya sit down to do some scheduling late at night:

Warnings: This is the result of the Angst Goblin in my brain suddenly remembering Bleach OVA content and realizing that it makes several people's backstories much, MUCH worse, and not so much kicking the door in as blowing it away with a #suffering shotgun. Discussion of a canon character death, and an additional implied death :)

(tagging @cesium-sheep because you wanted to see what I was going to do with the characters.)

***

“...Ken-chan?.”  Yachiru glared from the doorway, rubbing the dark circles forming under her eyes. “Its really late.”

“I know, I know.”  Zaraki sighed. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nm.” Yachiru mumbled, shaking her head and leaning on the doorframe.

“Hand me that pillow behind you.”  Zaraki pointed, sitting up and shifting positions so his leg was sticking out beside him. 

“Ta. C’mere.”  he nodded, taking the pillow from Byakuya and setting it in his lap. Yachiru plodded over, waved at Byakuya briefly while yawning, and curled up beside Zaraki’s leg, head on the pillow and shoulders in his lap. He returned his attention to the patrol schedule, changing which hand he was writing with to gently stroke her hair. 

“...I didn’t know you were ambidextrous.”  Byakuya blinked.  Perhaps this was the key to his success as a swordsman with no experience in kendo?

“Nah, I’m Buddhist.” he shrugged. “Right, where were we-?"

"I believe were up to May." nodded Byakuya, tabling his questions of handedness for now.

"May... That’s right before graduation and when everyone who is gonna quit or transfer does, right before summer scheduling so I’ve got a skeleton crew until the end of June-”

“Every division has the same problem, but yours does tend to suffer it more severely.” Byakuya agreed, watching Yachiru roll over and pull Zaraki’s leg closer like a stuffed toy, apparently setting quickly.  "Prob'ly a terrible idea, but what about dropping bait in a few tactical spots so we draw the hollows to places that can be managed with fewer patrols, rather than try to cover more ground.” Zaraki suggested, tapping a few open plains on the map.

“It’s been done in the middle districts with good results.” Byakuya nodded. “The difficulty is in the cities, where there is too much cover to patrol effectively, and in the more remote regions, where bait doesn’t have the range to effectively draw the hollows in.  But it may alleviate some of the staffing issues…”

Half an hour later they’d worked out a reduced patrol schedule that would still likely catch the majority of hollows approaching human settlement, when they were interrupted by Yachiru’s soft snores. Zaraki paused mid-sentence to grin apologetically, and turned his attention back to Yachiru, shaking her shoulder until she rolled over and quieted down. 

“She sleeps very soundly, but not if you’re absent?” Byakuya asked, watching the girl in the yellow lamplight.

“Yeah, but it’s not really a surprise.” Zaraki shrugged. “If anything, it’s that she’s taken to sleeping in her own bed as much as she has.”

“At her age?”  Ages were a relative thing in the soul society, but Yachiru was reading well and getting her adult teeth, as she had demonstrated her loose incisor at the last captain’s meeting- by the time he’d done so, Byakuya had been commanded to sleep in his own room for well over a decade. 

“I mean-  Sure, she’s five hundred thirty-eight now, but she spent nearly all of that homeless with me.  She was just a cabbage when I found her, and you don’t sleep without something between you and the ground, but you really don’t let a baby sleep where they’ll get cold, so for the first couple decades she slept inside my Kosode, then after it was on my chest, and then when she got to heavy for that she slept in my lap and now it’s by my back or under my arm.” He explained fondly, stroking her hair out of her face. “I’ve been her bed for half a millennium now, and I’ll probably be her bed when I’m ten thousand years old and nothing but bones and liver spots.”

Byakuya was silent for a long time.

…Had he ever slept in his father’s arms?  If he did, he had no memory of it.

“That’s a miserable mug.” Kenpachi said, nudging his arm. 

“I am rather morose this evening, it seems.”  He sighed, looking out at the moon. 

“Any hope of cheering you up?” he offered, gesturing around the small room that made his home, broadly offering whatever he had on hand.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not think so.”  Byakuya shook his head.

“Ah. Monsoon mood kind of thing.” Kenpachi nodded, and frowned, turning something over in his head.  “If you’re already going to be miserable, can I ask something awful?”

Byakuya tilted his head a bit to indicate he was listening.

“Yachiru goes to your place a lot- don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for every minute you’re willing to watch her. Was hard enough taking care of her out in the Rukongai, but now with the job- thanks.”

“It is… pleasant. To have her company.” Byakuya nodded. “Thank you for trusting me with her care.”

Kenpachi nodded in acknowledgement, chewing his lip. “...Last time, when I came to pick her up, I saw a lotta toys in the compound.  Cute stuff- dolls, the tea set she badgered you and Jushiro into playing tea ceremony with her-   But no other kids. You an’ Rukia really are the last generation, aren’t you? At least, until one of you is lucky enough to have kids.”

Byakuya looked up at Kenpachi, eyes hardening a bit in suspicion.

“...You used to be married.” Kenpachi continued.

Byakuya glared outright.

“-My condolences. Honestly. I’m not so lucky in love as you were, and losing her suddenly like that must’ve felt like getting your chest ripped open, ‘cept you don’t get the mercy of dying too.”

“What was it you wanted to ask?” Byakuya demanded, voice hard and dangerously quiet..

“I worked with a lotta women, and saw the problems they have up close. Retsu’s a damn good doctor, but even she can’t stop something if she doesn’t know it’s there to stop. Like an internal hemorrhage or septic infection, where there’s no outside problem and everyone tells women they’ll be sick and in pain during a pregnancy, so she just ignores it for a few hours but by then-”

He was interrupted by the crunch of wood as Byakuya’s fingers dug into the table.

“What was her name?” Asked Kenpachi.

“Hisana.”  Byakuya growled. “My wife’s name was Hi-”

“-Not her.” Kenpachii growled back. “Who was the little girl all those toys at the compound were intended for?”

Byakuya froze. 

“You had the baby sexed, or you wouldn’t have gotten dolls and tea sets. Surely you picked out a name.”  Kenpachi met his gaze, cool and unflinching like iron. “What was your daughter’s name?”

For a minute, there was only the horrible numbess of grief.

“...Noriko.”  Byakuya finally whispered, hands shaking as he let go of the table and hid his face. “My daughter’s name was Noriko.”

“Noriko.” Kenpachi nodded.  His face didn’t exactly change but the hardness was gone.

Byakuya choked, hands pressed to his mouth. “I never-  nobody’s ever said her name aloud-”

“Noriko.”  Kenpachi repeated, and Byakuya sobbed.  “Noriko, daughter of Hisana and Byakuya.”

Byakuya crumpled, hand clasped to his mouth to try to stifle the sobs, staring at Yachiru, still snoring in her father’s lap, tears streaming down his face and staining his scarf.  There was a weight on his shoulder.  It belonged to Kenpachi’s hot, scarred hand.

“I’m sorry.” Kenpachi’s voice was barely a whisper, eyes maybe just a bit red too. “But I needed to know, so I can ask what I actually need to ask.”

“What?” Byakuya whimpered, staring back at him.

Instead of answering, Kenpachi let go and shook Yachiru’s shoulder. “Hey, Kiddo.”

“Mgh?”  She blinked. 

“I need to get up a minute and your uncle needs a hug.” he said, pulling her up into a sitting position. 

“ -’kay.” she yawned, getting up and plodding over to Byakuya and leaning into his shoulder, eyes still closed. He held her, trying to not squeeze too hard, face in her own shoulder, gasping-

“Bya-chan?”  She mumbled, blinking at him. “You okay?”

“Just-  Just missing someone.” he stammered.  Kenpachi was rifling through the file cabinet on the other side of the room. 

“Oh.  Here-”  Yahiru said, straightening up and hugging him back properly.  

He couldn’t stop the sob this time, squeezing Yachiru to his chest for a long moment. “...Thank you, Kusajishi-san.” “ ‘s Yachiru.” she groaned, rolling her eyes at him. “Sorry, ‘m really tired…”

“-Curl up on him, I can’t find the damn thing I was looking for.” Kenpachi called from the other side of the room. 

“ -‘kay. G’night.”  Yachiru mumbled, sliding down Byakuya’s chest and immediately settling in his lap. He had to fight the urge to sob again, trying to hold still and cradle her. He watched her eyelashes flutter and she drifted off, the way she wiggled to make herself more comfortable, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept-

“She out?” Kenpachi asked, peering over the table. 

“Y-yes, I believe so.” Byakuya whispered, trying to not wake her. 

“Good, I don’t want her hearing and worrying.” Kenpachi grunted, sitting down again and placing a file folder on the table between them.  “Sorry to ask you such a bitch of a question but-  Well.  Needed to know the measure of man you are.”

Byakuya watched as Kenpachi pulled off his haori off his left shoulder, with a small grunt of pain, followed by the same shoulder of his kimono and kosode-  Byakuya belatedly realized the thing that had looked off about Kenpachi earlier was that his uniform was closed up properly for once, as he stared at the bandages, gauze, still-healing stitches and brace that was only barely holding the left half of his ribcage together. 

Apparently the campaign in the realm of the hollows had been harder on Kenpachi than he had let on. 

“Restu said the blade that fucking thing had got within half an inch of my heart, and that almost wouldn’t have mattered with the amount of broken bones and other damage.”  he explained, wheezing “I have the devil’s own luck somehow, but I’m not convinced that I’m actually immortal, so I needed to know-”  he pushed the file folder closer to Byakuya and opened it, revealing legal documents. 

“-If something happens to me, will you be Yachiru’s Godfather?”  He asked,head bowed and his only mobile hand up like he was begging. “You’re her favorite person in this city after me, and now I’m sure you’ll take good care of her-”

"You are spectacuarly bad at diplomacy, Zaraki." Byakuya sighed as signature was already drying on the paper.

[kotonoba]

ISYT (Jushiro/F!Reader) Ch. 45

Renji & Rukia’s arrival to help Ichigo get Orihime back, Jushiro prepping to fight Aizen in Fake Karakura Town.

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

After Jushiro confronted Ichigo’s group and told them that Orihime had been taken, you noticed some suspicious movements from Rukia and the Sixth Division Barracks. Still, Jushiro smiled and told you to keep quiet about it. But when the news of Renji and Rukia leaving for Hueco Mundo arrived for your husband, he acted surprised despite knowing what was happening. As the two of you headed home from a long day at work, a Hell Butterfly came in to inform you there would be a meeting in the morning regarding the “Fake Karakura Town” that the Twelfth Division had been working on.

You glanced at your husband, who seemed to know everything was happening. But he smiled, “don’t worry, I’ll tell you what the meeting is about once it’s over, okay, love?” You nodded, fingers entwined together as you two strolled back to the Ugendo.

“Speaking of which, ‘Shiro, why did you act surprised when the Messenger came to deliver news of Rukia-chan and Renji-kun’s departure to join Ichigo-kun’s rescue attempt in Hueco Mundo, even though you knew that they were planning so?” You glanced up at him as the night came around, and it was just the two of you along the path to the Ugendo. 

Jushiro hummed a little, thinking about it as he took his haori off to place around you instead of as the breeze blew by. “That way, there would be less suspicion. The messengers are under the command of the new Central 46, First Division, and Second Division since they also train them for a short period. If I did not act surprised, it would be reported to them, and they would do a tedious investigation. I'd rather not go through disputing that ordeal since I’ve gone through it twice already.” 

“Twice? When was the first and second time?” 

“Your memory fails you, love. The first time was when we first met. I wanted to give up my captain role to be with you, no matter how little you had left, but situational scenarios beat me to give up the role. They did a whole investigation but found nothing because the town and evidence were no more,” you nodded a little as you spotted sadness in your husband’s eyes. You offered his hand a little squeeze, and he squeezed your hand back gently to thank you. “The second time was when I went to offer my help to stop Rukia-chan’s execution,” he paused to see if you recall.

“Oh, was that why you were called into Central 46 the following day?” 

Jushiro nodded.

“It was tedious, but by the time I had been called into Central 46, they were in a huge mess because Aizen slaughtered the previous group. So I decided to help them sort the mess out, and they picked a whole new group that just dismissed my ‘wrongdoings–”

“I don’t think it’s wrong for you to stop the execution of Rukia-chan. She did nothing wrong, and it was a plot by Aizen,” Jushiro sighed as he led you into the Ugendo. You two worked pretty late, catching up on paperwork for the weekend to follow since Jushiro wanted to spend some quality time together with no hindrance of work in hindsight. 

“I agree with that, but destroying the Sokyoku is still an offense; sure, it didn’t take long for them to rebuild it, but it was still a lot of money,” Jushiro laughed; his clan was taxed heavily. You recall looking at its records as you helped them sort it out. 

“Hopefully, something like that doesn’t happen again.”

Jushiro nodded in response. You two spent the evening cooking together before eating and going to bed since he had a morning meeting to attend. Morning came around in the blink of an eye. As you were helping your husband dress, he proposed an idea.

“Why not, instead of my two third-seat officers accompanying me, you come with me and wait until the meeting ends. How does that sound?”

You hummed and nodded but decided to tease him, “You forgot to tell them last night, didn’t you?”

“M-maybe,” you laughed a bit; he followed along as you took an early leisure stroll towards the first division meeting room. You waited with the other lieutenants and stand-in lieutenants. There wasn’t much talk, but you didn’t jump in, even if there was. 

Maybe it was about an hour to two before Jushiro and the rest of the captains left the meeting room; you supported yourself, pushing yourself up from your former meditating position, “training with your Zanpakutou?” You glanced at your husband, smiled, and nodded, “Was it fruitful?” You nodded once more, “Achieved Bankai in that process?” He joked, holding his hand out to you; you took it happily. You grinned at your husband in response, “Oh, you did?” 

“Half of it, at least” was hard to explain; it was simply because your ability was divided into two halves, and doing half was good enough. 

“Want to show me?” He hummed, leading you to the training grounds behind the division barracks. You didn’t let go of his hand, almost as if you were shy. 

“Not particularly; I can’t control the power burst it carries. I don’t want to wound you somehow, ‘Shiro.”

“I can help you; I didn’t become a captain from pity points,” Jushiro teased. You know he’s strong, but you couldn’t shake off the thought when your Zanpakutou spirit repeatedly reiterated that you should only use it when you’re in danger. 

“I–” 

“I know, I won’t force you. There must be a reason why you’re reluctant to show me, and I’ll let you and your Zanpakutou deal with it; I believe in you, love,” Jushiro smiled, lightly kissing your forehead.

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This is so long overdue, so I did write this earlier this year, it's just that school has been tough. Did I pass all three of my classes? No, I failed 1 by 1 point, I'm upset, so I channeled that into writing fanfics. So, expect updates this month.

Cloudy's Ao3

[bleachbleachbleach]

6/10 - 6/16/2024

Look who made it into the 70s!

One of my goals for this week was to wake up and write first thing in the morning, and get Fanfic Time and a session of Work Stuff done before 9am. The success of this gradually diminished over the course of the week, though, because said success was dependent upon waking up early enough to make this happen, which got harder and harder as the week progressed and I got more and more tired.

I also did modly stuff for a challenge I run in a different fandom. The challenge has been running since 2007 and I’ve participated every year since 2010, which means this will be my fifteenth year! FIFTEEN!! I’m pretty proud of the milestone. In any case, I have a prompt set to fulfill for that this summer. I did not even bother looking at it yet, because if someone is struggling with their prompts and needs alternates, the mods usually offer theirs. In an ideal world, I’ll finish Rukia 10 then take a short break for that.

As far as Rukia 10's overarching premise goes—I know I said that the new version of Rukia 10 was going to make me like Rukia 15 more, but I think really what it does is expand things that aren’t my preference (but do appear to be the fic’s preference) in Rukia 15 so that they’re ALSO in Rukia 10. I dunno how I feel about that. Well, I know how I feel—that it’s cheap and gauche—but I don’t know if that assertion is true or not.

Another challenge is that Rukia is having a crisis about four different people at the same time, which was not planned and is proving difficult to juggle all at once. But this might be fine, because I feel like Rukia might also feel like having a crisis about four different people at the same is itself a crisis. She’s having a crisis about Kaien because although she felt like she’d achieved some closure after Hueco Mundo, it turns out that if the one person who witnessed Kaien’s death with her also dies, all bets are off! She’s having a crisis about Ukitake because he’s dead—but also because there are a lot of conversations they never got to have, and some of them were about fights for life or honor, and what was that. She’s having a crisis about Renji because [redacted, there’s like three reasons], and also Ichigo because

It had felt very adult, pushing Ichigo out and watching the Senkaimon take him. It had felt incredibly right and incredibly wrong. It had felt like Kurosaki Ichigo is seventeen years old. It had felt like—he was owed a life more than he was owed this story, maybe.

“I would tell Ichigo about this,” Rukia decides.   “Ichigo?” Muguruma quirks an eyebrow. “Why would he wanna know? Hasn’t he heard enough from this place for the next, I dunno, eternity?”

“So he knows we’re okay. There hasn’t been a shinigami in the Living World in months. I don’t want it to feel like—”   Like before. Like those seventeen long months. But maybe it doesn’t. Maybe as long as Kurosaki Ichigo is among ghosts, and among all the difference pieces of what’s inside him, then it could never feel like that, regardless of whether Rukia is one of those ghosts or not.

Still, she doesn’t want it to feel like they abandoned him. Like they used him, and then abandoned him, though that is exactly what they did. But it would be worse still for him to know too much about Soul Society, Soul Society and its stupid problems and the streets that aren’t fixed yet and the fields, still burning somehow, and the fact that they still don’t know for sure exactly who is alive and who is dead. They don’t even know when they will know, or if they will ever know.   If she told him about this trip, maybe it could be her way of telling him that Soul Society will not just be the story of the Thousand-Year Blood War, forever. They’ll keep going. They’re capable of other stories, and they will be okay.

“I’d tell him we went camping,” Rukia replies airily. “There was a vending machine! And a large beach.”   “So you’d lie. That’s exactly how you tell people you’re okay.”   “All of that is true!”

[m3kuroshirt]

How the Grimmjow Stole Christmas

 Words: 2164

Warnings: language, suggestive themes, slight angst

Notes: This is a Christmas gift-fic for the wonderful @m34gs and @suknas!

“Come on Ichi-nii, you need to come with us to Mr. Urahara’s,” Yuzu’s plea rang out from the other side of the door. All Ichigo could do was sigh, disappointed in the situation, but mostly himself.

“Sorry Yuzu, but I need to take a pass. Need to get ahead on next semester—”

“Bullshit, Ichigo!” That was Karin, in all her fiery glory, yelling from the other side, probably squished right next to Yuzu and up on her toes. Quietly, in tones hushed and words unintelligible from the other side of the door, Ichigo heard Yuzu say something to her twin.

“Fine. Whatever,” Karin said, this time tone curt and sharp. “Have fun spending Christmas Eve by yourself then.”

Ichigo could say with certainty, he definitely would not, but that was on a need-to-know basis, and his sisters, who he loved dearly and with all of his current Grinch-sized heart, didn’t. He would mope tonight, feelings awash and weird for no discernible reason—or at least, not one he cared to put a name (or face) to—and be back to mostly normal tomorrow.

Kon screeched something about going in his place, sweeping out the door, slamming it shut behind, and that was that. Footsteps walked—or stomped, in Karin’s case—away. Good enough for now, though he’d feel bad for making them mad later. He had to get over getting mad at himself first.

Sure, Urahara’s would be lively and probably fun, but, knowing him, it would also be a big schmoozing event, and Ichigo wasn’t in the mood for that. And the war. If Ichigo had to hear one more thing about the war that they’d won, he’d lose his goddamned mind.

The past two years had been brutal, and he was still…recovering. That’s what he called it, anyway. Giving distance to some places—Kiskue Urahara’s on the very top of the ‘places to avoid’ list, circled, starred, and highlighted. Some wounds still too fresh in his mind.

Sure, Urahara was a certified genius, but Ichigo got tried of being the pawn in everyone’s game. Was it so bad to want something low-stakes for once? Maybe a fight could just be a fight. Just like he wanted.

But whatever.

Besides, it wasn’t like he’d be there anyway. He and a certain blue-haired arrancar hadn’t spoken often after the end of the war—Ichigo made sure to go by the shop twice a week while he was unconscious, body healing from the poison that Quincy had given him.

And then one day Grimmjow just…wasn’t there.

Urahara said he’d woke up, opened a garganta, and fucked right off to Hueco Mundo. Well, not those exact words. But that’s what the ache in his chest told him.

Bastard.

Now Ichigo was lucky he saw him once or twice a month.

Nel was around far more than Grimmjow ever was, and while Ichigo viewed her more and more as a little sister, he couldn’t say that when the sounding boom of a garganta opening happened, he was always a little disappointed it was just Nel.

She’d for sure be at whatever party Urahara threw. And as much as he loved her, she could be a lot.

Same with his friends, both human and soul reapers.

If Renji decided to knock on his door and drag him to the shit show of a party it would turn out to be, he’d fake…Ichigo wasn’t sure…explosive diarrhea or something and run to the bathroom. Between him knowing how to do surprisingly realistic armpit fart noises, and Renji’s relative cluelessness regarding…many things, as far as the human world went, Ichigo could get him to leave.

Rukia would be another story.

He’d probably actually need to shit and do something he’d regret almost immediately to get her to leave, and honestly, that was still iffy.

Grabbing his laptop, he plopped back down on his bed and searched for a movie. He guessed a Christmas one would do, he shouldn’t be a total trash bag about things. So he typed in the world “Grinch”, searching through the options, and settled on the original, since it was about as short as his patience at the moment.

Hitting the play button, soft music started in the background as Ichigo tried to get himself comfortable, wrapping his duvet around him like he was a cold snowman in need of a nice spring thaw. Sighing as the opening was narrated, Ichigo closed his eyes, lids heavy.

 ............

When he opened them again, his laptop was dark—I must’ve fallen asleep—and there was a warmth spread across his chest.

And legs.

Everywhere, really. And it was heavy.

And vaguely body shaped, Ichigo thought, blood turning to ice. Did someone break into his house? Did he have an intruder cuddling him? What in the absolute fuck? Was this one of his friends sick ways of harassing him because he missed the party?

Glancing around the room trying to stay as calm as possible, Ichigo attempted to get a feel for their spiritual pressure. It took him all of five seconds to give up. It felt familiar, but without any kind of menacing or fighting aura surround them, he was honestly at a loss. The only reason he knew it wasn’t Captain Zaraki is because he wasn’t suffocated into the bed. That, and his two-person boy band wasn’t criticizing him from unseen corners of his room.

Trying to focus on the shape sprawled across him, Ichigo could tell they were taller than him, though probably not by much. Trying to move his arms was met with resistance—hands gripped each bicep like a lifeline, gently clawing and relaxing long fingertips into the meat of each arm.

The head shifted, and Ichigo felt something hard and smooth scrape across the exposed skin of his neck. It felt like a—

“What the fuck,” Ichigo hissed out, eyes going wide in realization, debating whether or not he was going to leave the guy be, or push him off him (and his bed) and smother him with Ichigo’s favorite pillow.

“Took ya long enough,” rang out a familiar, gruff voice, though laced with drowsiness. Ichigo felt his heartbeat stutter. His voice sounded almost soft. No. Nonononono don’t gay panic now. “S’warm in here. Quiet too.”

“What are you talking about?” Okay, panic a little. “What are you—”

“Be quiet,” the arrancar whined, rubbing his stupid face into Ichigo’s softest shirt, hands flexing and relaxing on Ichigo’s arms again, unsheathed claws prickling against his human skin. Quiet? Warm? Was Grimmjow drunk? What in the hell and a half was going on? Was he drunk? Ichigo didn’t remember getting into Isshin’s good whiskey, but hey, he’d slept-walk before.

Once.

When he was five.

“Sorry,” Ichigo said in a frantic whisper, nerves buzzing like angry hornets. The nasty stinging kind that only wanted to kill people. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be in my room on Christmas Eve nuzzling into my chest like it was a normal thing that happened.”

“Fuckin’ shut up already, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled, shifting around a little bit, head propping up, is damn pointy chin digging into Ichigo’s chest not unlike the dullest dagger in the world, blue eyes narrowed at him. Ichigo felt his hands twitch.

“Urahara’s was fucking loud. Smelly too. Damn booze-hound,” he muttered, laying his head back down.

“You shut up, you bastard,” Ichigo whisper yelled. “You’ve barely been here! You don’t get to just…do this!”

“I’m here now, ain’t I,” Grimmjow yelled in a hush right back, as if there were other people in the house to be concerned about. Wait, were there? What time even was it? He didn’t remember actually looking at the clock. It was only like…seven when he put the little animated movie on—and it was only like forty five minutes long at most. Damn, he was turning into an old man. He’d be eighty in two days.

Sucking in a breath, Ichigo marched on, ready to get this shit show delt with so he could go back to sleep and wake up mad about it tomorrow.

“Yeah, but why?”

Grimmjow growled for real this time, a low reverberation resonating in his chest before the man sat up, and Ichigo saw his glare glow through the darkness.

“The fuck, you don’t want me here now? Shitty Kiskue said you’d been moping around ‘cuz of it, and now you decided to change yer mind?”

Trying not to snort at the completely accurate nickname for the damn shopkeeper, Ichigo propped himself up on his elbows, since Grimmjow was still sitting on half of him like a damn house-cat, and glared right back.

“I don’t mope,” he said, voice now at a normal volume, growling right back, though not quite as animalistic.

Ichigo ran a now free hand across his sweaty face. Grimmjow ran a hell of a lot warmer than he’d anticipated. Of course, it could always be the stress of the situation at hand.

“You fuckin’ do.” Grimmjow leaned in closer, laying more of himself over Ichigo again, arms now caging both of his sides, gaze predatory. What in the hell was going on? Sure, Ichigo wasn’t opposed to the action whatsoever, but it was weird coming from Grimmjow of all people.

“If you don’t want me here then just say so.” Hot breath fanned Ichigo’s face, and if the light were on, Grimmjow could probably see him blush.

Eyebrow ticking, patience thinning regardless of how attractive the bastard on top of him was, Ichigo spat out his next sentence.

“Of course, I want you here, you complete asshat! What the fuck took you—”

Lips—well, teeth, more like—cut off Ichigo’s lecture. Warm and moist and so fucking soft, Ichigo felt his head drop back onto his pillow, arms wrapping around the torso pressing into him. Whatever Grimmjow was wearing, it was scratchy as hell. Yoruichi had been into some kind of string craft thing—knitting or crocheting, he didn’t remember—so it was probably that. She’d all but forced Ichigo to accept a handmade sweater with holes in the armpits. She insisted it was to let his stank out, whatever the fuck that meant.

Grimmjow pulled away first, but stayed close. His mask shone in the dim moonlight filtering through the window, teeth sharp. Stupidly, Ichigo wondered if he ever flossed them.

“Poison took a long time to wear off, had to go back to Hueco Mundo to heal some of it.”

Ichigo knitted his brows, confused. What did Hueco Mundo have that the world of the living—namely Urahara—didn’t?  

“What?”

Grimmjow scraped his mask over the bareness of Ichigo’s exposed neck, and butterflies fluttered all the way into his throat and back down. Fingers clutched at the hem of the poor-quality yarn sweater, waiting for Grimmjow to explain.

“Something about the reishi compounds,” Grimmjow started with an irritated sigh, the tip of his tongue flicking at Ichigo’s clavicle. “How an arrancar body breaks them down differently and shit. Kiskue explained it, but I wasn’t listening.”

“Figures,” Ichigo said, smiles beginning to spread across his face. “How’d you even get in my house?” Ichigo ran a hand through messy blue locks, and scratched his scalp lightly, earning a pleased grunt. And maybe a purr, if his ears weren’t deceiving him.

“Yer old man. Told me he left the door unlocked an’ that you were bein’ a brat.”

Ichigo’s face went red at Grimmjow calling him such things, but decided not to think of that—or how his father just left the house open for anyone to rob, thanks a lot. What if there was a hollow and a robber nearby? Did the old fart ever think of that?

Probably not, because he’s a moron.

Then another question wormed its way out of Ichigo’s mouth, even with Grimmjow’s greedy mouth currently nipping at whatever exposed skin he could find.  

“Why didn’t Urahara say anything to me? About you needing to go back, I mean.”

Grimmjow stopped marking Ichigo for a second, dragging an arm over Ichigo’s chest and laying his head on it. He was frowning, but didn’t look all that surprised by Ichigo’s line of questioning.  

“Because he’s a piece of shit,” he said matter-of-factly. Ichigo couldn’t help but nod in agreement, irritated sigh pushing past his lips.

“Good to know. How about we try and kill’em tomorrow?”

Ichigo heard and felt Grimmjow chuckle, shifting his arm again, lower this time, playing with the hem of his sweats. Swallowing, Ichigo’s breath hitched.  

Grimmjow growled like the feral best he was, and ground down into Ichigo’s weight, causing a groan to escape him.

“Works for me. Merry Crisis, Kurosaki. Lemme open my present.”

Ichigo just laughed and pulled Grimmjow’s stupid mouth back to his own. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad way to spend the night after all, and if things went the way he hoped, his heart wouldn’t be the only thing growing a couple sizes tonight.

[deivorous]

@txchikaze --- "You can cook?" Perhaps not the nicest thing to say when offered food, but he was genuinely surprised. He takes the skewer with some hesitance, but he cannot refuse it. Grimmjow has never cooked for him before, and sharing food is kind of a big deal, Kensei thinks. Especially for the hollow. There's a strange addition to the meat-skewer that he does not recognize, and he smells it before daring to dip out his tongue and have a taste. If it tastes at all rancid he'll.. Politely decline. But, it doesn't taste much of anything.. It seems vaguely nutty? But in a way that seems like the fruit (?) had been filled with the water some walnuts had soaked in. He still can't be sure it's actually edible. "What's this?" He asks, pointing at the strange pieces of unidentified foodstuff. If anything, the meat looks nicely seared, though...

"I watch you cook." Grimmjow says. It was a sort of education.

The real answer is no. Of the many skills Grimmjow seems to have carried with him from the living world, cooking isn't one of them. This is the only one of many unsuccessful attempts that he deemed fit to show Kensei. He'd originally tried using cero to heat the meat, but the first few failures moved him to open pit fires, which resulted in many very char-coaled, sand covered attempts He finally started figuring it out towards the end though. Maybe.

It's not as good as anything Kensei could make, Grimmjow already knows that. It's not about that. He just wanted to give Kensei something this time, he can't exaclt hunt for him. He wouldn't appreciate it.

"Quartz flower. They grow on the trees." Hollows will migrate for miles and miles to find them. A rare treat in a place like Hueco Mundo. Grimmjow never had much of a taste for it, but Nakeem had loved them, and Shawlong was partial enough to pull rank from time to time. He thought it might go good with the meat. "You don't have to eat it."

[sunflowersandcherryblossoms]

Be ready for disagreement...

The Shinigami absolutely belonged in the finale of this Arc!

As with 100% of plot holes and missing lore, we have no information on why the Shinigami didn't visit Ichigo in their gigai.

At best with have fanon meta about a direct order from Central 46, forbidding them to contact Ichigo in order to flush out Ginjo (who wouldn't have approached him if during those 17 months he'd seen people like the Kuchiki Siblings, Renji et all dropping by for a visit.

As for the theme of the Lost Agent Arc, it is Bonds.

And we see that the humans have really weak bonds. Mostly from miscommunication, yes, but also because they weren't exactly close friends at the beginning of the series. They're people that had to come together for a common objective.

In this point of the story, one of the people I hate the most for keeping secrets from Ichigo is his supposed buddy, Chad...

Dude had been training with the Fullbringers and didn't remember to mention that? So much for friendship.

I expect nothing from Isshin, therefore I'm not surprised that the dude didn't come forward with the truth about his origins throughout that time.

Urahara also cut contact with Ichigo and yet everyone (almost everyone) praises him for coming up with the Reishi sword.

(There was still a law in place about transferring powers to a human. And I don't think Mayuri cared the least about Ichigo. And I don't like the dude...)

When Tsukishima unleashes Book Of The End, we see exactly how frail those bonds are.

Even his sister's, who undoubtedly loved him, but siblings are siblings... And there was a layer of mistrust towards him, again because of all the secret he himself kept... And they weren't like against, against him. They just wanted him to "stop being rude to cousin Tsukishima" (And let's be honest... Ichigo has a past of being a little shit. A punk. A rude person...)

Chad, — his supposed best friend — stands against him in battle to protect Tsukishima.

Inoue — the girl who thinks what she feels is love — heals his enemy and can't put Ichigo first.

Remember:

Tsukishima didn't ERASE Ichigo. He included himself in the memories. That's what he does.

In the "flashbacks" we see Ichigo too... It's just that Tsukishima is also there.

Which means all the actions he took were still in those two's memories. And yet they chose Tsukishima...

Now the Shinigami...

Of course they're not the Heroes of the series!

But they're also not the villains. They're in the grey area...

No one who followed the previous arcs with their full span of attention would believe for one second any of those people would so much harm one hair in Ichigo's head...

Either people want it or not, the one who represents the change in the Soul Society and their relationship to Ichigo, is Byakuya.

The one who had the most drastic change of heart. The one who threw the fight so he could keep his honour while allowing Ichigo to save Rukia.

The one who, after bringing Rukia and Renji back to Soul Society, ended up sending them to Hueco Mundo to fight alongside Ichigo.

The one who actually appeared to help Ichigo against Yammy, — with Kenpachi in tow!— and the one who pushed Ichigo to go to Karakura to protect his hometown and fight Aizen.

Now, in this Arc, he's the one who's tasked with fighting Ichigo's tormentor.

He fights Tsukishima in Ichigo's name!

He gets cut, and yet, Shinigami that he is, Head of the Kuchiki Clan that he is, Stoic that he shows to others he is, still goes against the fake memories of the mentor figure and takes him down.

For Ichigo. Because of Ichigo. In his stead.

And comes TYBW, the Karakura Team still can't communicate and still don't trust each other!

Uryu goes on a rogue mission that could have gone awfully wrong.

Inoue and Chad are left in Hueco Mundo, because Ichigo is worried first and foremost about the Shinigami.

Ichigo arrives there and the first actions he undertakes his getting Akon to safety, fly over Rukia and Renji to check if they're alive (doesn't stop apparently, but I digress...) and goes straight to Byakuya from whom he receives this banner of protecting the Soul Society. A tearful plea he goes above and beyond to fulfil.

There's also this weird moment of Chad and Inoue believing Ichigo would run away from the fight... Which... Excuse me?!?

Why would they say that?

Chad? The one who had been protected by Ichigo all that time ago?

Inoue? Who went along with Ulquiorra (that was the weirdest kidnapping ever, btw...), causing all of those people to go and try to save her? Ichigo at the head of the rescue team?

So no...

The Karakura Team aren't best friends and they learned nothing throughout the series.

And the Shinigami, — at least some of them — deserve better than being considered as the bad guys, since they have always fought for Ichigo since the Soul Society Arc.

You're such a fucking idiot, Uryu...

Yeah, you should have fucking told him from the get go! You're supposed to be a part of the Karakura Team! You know the supposed "real friends" group?

Oh, right... Sorry...

You're actually just acquaintances with a shared goal.

[rukia-writes]

Sosuke Aizen x (fem) soul reaper! naive! Reader

A/N: so I wanted to know what it would be like if Aizen liked a soul reaper who was a bit of an air head. Happy for Bleach Return 🎀 been watching it all day. Feels like a trip down memory lane. Maybe I’ll make a one shot on this 🎀

Warnings: manipulation (its Aizen after all) , 18+, NSFW, no minors, mentions of sex.

♡︎While at a first glance it may seem like Aizen may not want anything to do with someone who is innocent, Aizen is a bit complex.

♡︎There are advantages in every situation and of course this man finds those easily. Why wouldn’t he want someone he could tease all the time. Nothing major just little things like tricking her into a taking a short cut but instead it’s the long way around and then playing it off as though he’s surprised that happened.

♡︎Aizen of course when he’s soul reaper is really nice (even though we all know that’s allusion) he’ll ask what happened to her that day and if she improved on her kido. (Hint hint: he already knows)

♡︎Aizen entertains conversation with his crush all the time. Because when he sees a chance he can teach her new stuff.

♡︎Ooo! But there is a sign that his naive crush doesn’t pick up on and that’s Aizen being protective. Don’t care, nothing is to happen to his experiment crush. Shinji? Oh no, no. He’s a flirt you don’t want to talk to him. Kyoraku? A pervert and a flirt you don’t want to talk to him either. KISUKE URAHARA?! Just no, no. See how Aizen starts shit, and his naive crush is none the wiser.

♡︎But of course! His naive crush doesn’t listen and talks to them “They’re friendly and really well behaved around me.” Aizen hates doesn’t like that so he’ll flip it around and say that they have ulterior motives.

♡︎Even if that doesn’t work out, Aizen already has plan 1 thru 100 in place. (😭)

♡︎Let’s be 100% clear though, no one else and I mean no one is allowed to pick on his crush. Aizen is the first to insult them and places his crush high on a pedestal. (It’s that protective streak in him)

♡︎The kicker in all this would be Aizen waiting for the opportunity to ask if she would ever betray the soul society and of course he knows she would say yes..

♡︎But when he gets a “No” that just surprises him, didn’t see that coming. So he’ll try to word it differently, somewhere along the lines of “What if we both betrayed the soul society?” Again, he gets a “No.” and this is just… a backfire in his plan…

♡︎Aizen’s naive crush doesn’t understand, Aizen already planned out how things were going to go once in Hueco Mundo. Throne room sex, cockwarming, spoiling her, bed breaking sex, blindfolds-Yes Aizen had this all planned.

♡︎good thing this was plan 1, now Aizen has to move on to plan 2-100. Plan 2-100 doesn’t have nice Aizen in it either (he wasn’t from the start). But now the master manipulation starts, plans in plans. One way or another Aizen gets what he wants, it’s just literally a matter of time.

♡︎It doesn’t matter who Aizen has to go thru either. Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto himself can’t stop Aizen.

♡︎Even if his crush doesn’t end up going with Him to Hueco Mundo, Aizen stalks his crush even from Hueco Mundo all in the comfort of his room. Maybe he’s still a bit sore at a future project going to waste, then again Aizen isn’t above sneaking back into the soul society.♡︎

🎀Rukia-Writes🎀

[biskael]

Do you find that with quilge & nnoi, quilge has a lesser need for the hunt, or does their relationship only heighten the need for the thrill?

character relations asks : tentatively accepting .

*smacks hands together* okay . very good question . and thank you for the quilnoi theme , i do so love talking about them . :^) the short answer is , yes ... somewhat , anyway . there is now a bit of a lesser need for the hunt , now that he has nnoitra as a husband . not that that really ... lessens his desire to hunt outright , nnoitra just willingly agrees to be hunted down by quilge . they're immortal . they're insane . they're in love . they're kinky . what do you think they're going to do ? but now , for the long answer .

that's honestly a bit of a wild concept to think about . because ------ to start , quilge viewed nnoitra , literally , as a wild beast sent by fate to him to be captured . i'm fucking serious . not that there was ... immediately , a sexual desire to his actions . he did think he was attractive , he is his type & he values his unique appearance and likes his confidence . quilge , an audacious man himself , admires audacity , too . but his desire for the hunt , something he speaks extremely highly about and is a treasured aspect in his life , is extremely important to him . hunting was the first skill that he was ever really taught , outside of quincy-specific things . even before torture . just about anyone can hunt , but it absolutely takes patience . it is such a valued skill in his personal arsenal that he's the executive hunting captain now . so , when he was assigned to hueco mundo to bring back strong beasts , only to come across an espada , he felt ... extremely blessed . everything else was tossed out the window . THIS was the rarest monster he would ever hunt . he considers it the finest hunt of his life . and it was an extremely violent one , at that .

quilge massacred his own men just to get them alone ------ he didn't want anyone else to touch him , this was his hunt . nnoitra mauls him so badly that it leaves a permanent scar on his upper arm . he starts beating quilge over and over . and quilge responds by forcing him off , beating him back , dragging him off by his hair . and then they have another murder-chase . quilge beats him up some more , but he never really aims to kill him . he doesn't WANT to kill nnoitra , only draw out their fight , and strike him in enough places to strategically weaken him . he later dragged nnoi back to the encampment ( nnoi might have immense raw power , but he's really lacking a lot of the stamina , practice & discipline quilge has ) , and he struggled & screamed the whole way . he doesn't even use the jail yet because he didn't want to . he only uses the jail a little later on him , and nnoitra still struggles inside of it . but he can't escape it . no one's ever really ... captured him . and all that strength he possesses is getting him nowhere . it doesn't matter how loud he screams , or how hard he swings his sword . he isn't getting out .

neither of them ever experienced something like that before , really . quilge , with a monster of immense power and ferality . and nnoitra , with a man who can finally cage him , and put a stop to what he's doing . they're pretty much evenly matched , but their fortes are in different areas . they could easily have fought for much longer . and it's in that rather raw period of time , that quilge realizes he was right . he was right all along , actually . that was the best hunt he'd ever had . he had found a magnificent beast : one that didn't hold back , one that was actually , truthfully , monstrous . he thinks about his own orders that were given to him by the higher-ups . that he should bring back any of the strong-willed arrancar , the powerful and the brave ( so much so that it borders on stupidity ) , to silbern . and have them fight alongside the wandenreich . he doesn't ignore his orders . it just so happens that he'd found and captured one of the most powerful beings in all of hueco mundo , and he isn't going to let him go . he wants to hunt him again , and again , and again , with that same intensity . he claims that nnoitra makes him sick , but he's actually very fascinated by him . likes him inside of that cage more than he'd like to admit . the idea of keeping him . yes , his feelings venture into petplay territory . of course they do . and nnoitra is just so monstrous that it ... clicks in his brain , too .

since their relationship became more legitimate & established , they engage in consensual , organized hunts against each other . it's absolutely a part of the primalplay fetish . but also , they're insanely strong immortals , so it gets way more bloodied & intense . and sometimes , it even lasts for days on end . they've realized they can indulge in those desires , and engage in those desires that only they can , because most other people WOULD PROBABLY DIE or NOT BE INTO IT . it is very intimate to them , but probably VERY fucked up to other people . lmao . nnoitra said that there's "no one else" for him , and vice versa , and i believe that .

at the same time , however , they're both evil murderous men who love to kill other people . they even kill as a pair . and their love doesn't lessen that in the slightest . killing and violence are both deeply engrained into their being . in some ways , being together heightened some of their murderous desires . some . quilge kills to keep nnoitra fed on a diet of cannibalism , sometimes . nnoitra still kills when he's upset , or depressed , but will encourage him to find people to torture so he can watch ( he loves it when his husband is mean ) . there's times when they both admit that they just HAVE to kill , maim , torture and consume . but they also satiate each other in ways that aren't murder . they both proclaim they love each other , too . and yet , they could kill someone the next moment . kiss kiss . heart emojis everywhere . so their love never dulled or softened their hearts nor their other desires . nnoitra is a born monster . quilge is a man who became a monster . and if anything , they bring that out more than any other . it's an important part to their relationship .

as one could guess , being attacked by quilnoi in battle IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE . you'd think that just one of them on their own is enough , well . quilge has taught nnoitra numerous commands ------ he can communicate with him through whistles , for example . he's teaching him how to summon his own reishi bow . he's also teaching him to be more patient and strategic at swordplay . they're also both long range and close range fighters ( nnoi's terasa has a chain that can be swung around ) . while not exactly in perfect , pristine sync when in combat together , they're definitely a very deadly pair if anyone really has the misfortune to come across them . which , however , is quite likely given the fact that nnoi refuses to leave quilge's side .

nnoi is greatly attached and dependant on quilge for ... a number of reasons . and quilge , in some manners , feels the same way . although he doesn't have the same disposition as nnoitra personally , he does ... need him and is also equally as attached . they're also both intensely possessive over the other . nnoi , more vocally and outwardly so . if anyone so much as threatens , insults , even so little as looking at quilge , nnoitra is thinking about killing them . lmao . if you hurt quilge , nnoitra will have to be held back . taking him away from him would literally make nnoi go insane . nnoi ... at this time in their relationship , only has quilge . no fraccion , no other espada , no leader . so he's just hanging onto this weirdo sternritter man like his life depends on it .

nothing and no one will separate them . not even the fucking auswählin .

so , in the end , the answer is that , yes , some of quilge's more sadistic desires have been satiasted . FUCKING HOWEVER , not even his love will keep him from being awful , and his own consort encourages that behavior . wild , huh ?

[recurring-polynya]

*sees you like Discworld character, sees you like Renruki* how do you think a Discword Renruki AU would look?

Unfortunately, a Discworld Renruki AU is simply impossible, at least for me. The problem, you see, is that I crib my entire characterization of everyone out of combinations of Discworld characters. I get a lot of positive comments about my characterization of Byakuya and Renji, but I will tell you my secret. In fact, I made you a diagram:

Renji is six feet tall and red-headed and has a lot of muscles. He has an innate sense of right and wrong, he wears his heart on his sleeve and he has bags of krisma. But he also comes from the streets and he will break the rules if he needs to, and he would understand the Sam Vimes Boots Theory of Economics in his soul (or soles, as the case may be). 

Byakuya is rich and powerful, a Son of the Seireitei, but he doesn’t have the kind of power Veterinari has, he’s not a machinator. He really is sort of a man on the street, trying to keep the peace and sighing a lot. I constantly have Renji pulling one over on him by affecting an act of guileless goonishness, just like Carrot does to Vimes. Also, Byakuya would kill a king if he had to.

I admit, I also occasionally throw in a bit of Sybil when I am writing Byakuya-at-home-- he’s as noble as you can possible get; he’s good at being noble and knows how to work the system, but he would really just rather be at home with his dragons orchids. Also, he is easily charmed by dirtbags. 

Byakuya and Renji must be in the Watch, there is no other possibility, but the nobility in Discworld are disgusted by the Watch, except for Vimes, who came about his nobility illicitly. Rukia is mostly Angua, except when she’s Susan Sto Helit. She can’t work for Byakuya, but also be his sister. It just doesn’t work. 

(In other parts of town, Urahara is somehow simultaneously Moist von Lipwig, Rincewind, and Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler. All four Karakura kids smush together to form Tiffany Aching.)

I think the problem is simply that Discworld is a tremendous work of character writing. You could easily drop an OC in there somewhere, but I can’t do an AU where I replaced the characters, because Discworld is its citizenry.

Now, what would work is dropping Discworld characters wholesale into the Bleach universe. The Watch could just form a Fourteenth Division, except that Detritus and Littlebottom would have discovered the murdered Central 46 roughly 28 hours before Hitsugaya and Matsumoto did. Vimes would punch Byakuya in the jaw in the middle of a Captains’ Meeting for trying to get Rukia executed in the first place. Nobby would somehow managed to lift the Hougyoku off of Aizen as he was escaping to Hueco Mundo.

Edit (because I forgot): The Ramkins would be the heretofore-unnamed Fourth Noble House. Sybil loved Hisana, and has a good relationship with Byakuya because she Gets Him, even though Sam still wants to wring his neck 90% of the time.

We never actually see much of the Kidou Corps in Bleach, and I see no reason why they aren’t just the staff of the Unseen University. Who else would think it was a good idea to give Yamamoto a kidou cannon, but Mustrum Ridcully? (”D’you think we might be able to do a bit of hunting with it? Shoot a Menos, like?”) Akon and Ponder Stibbons would be besties.

Karakura Town, Lancre, same difference. Granny Weatherwax would take one look at the Karakura kids and declare them all Hers. She would also punch Urahara in the jaw. Nanny Ogg goes to Isshin’s clinic for her rheumatism medicine, and also to pinch his ass. Agnes would declare herself a Vizard (Perdita rather likes the idea that perhaps she is an Inner Hollow, despite the fact that she very much is not), and they let her hang around because she has a great singing voice.

Ironically, I cannot figure out where Death fits into this AU, but please enjoy one of my favorite fanfics of all time, where Death adopts baby Rukia. It is exquisite.

[messofavs]

Bleach anon returns baby! First ask of the day! Imagine being a human who was forced into Hueco Mundo due to your strange spiritual pressure. You so desperately want to go home,this place is no place for you to be. You’re so soft and sensitive,most would call you a crybaby. In other words,you were nothing but easy prey to the Arrancars. Thankfully you had a protector though,Ulquiorra Cifer. You were intrusted to him by Aizen,so he took care of you. You did your best to cling to him and stay by his side,however there were times you couldn’t. Like right now,Ulquiorra was busy on a mission for Aizen so you were wandering aimlessly. You were already crying from how awful the other Arrancars were treating you.

You flinch hard when you feel a sudden grip on your shoulder.

“Why are you flinching,trash?”

You hear a familiar,cold voice ask you harshly. It’s Ulquiorra. You turns around and hug him tightly,pressing your sobbing face against his cold chest where his heart should be. You softly place a hand a little above your head. As you settle your fingers down,you feel your thumb slip into his hollow hole. There’s a few quiet moments as you both tense up,only for Ulquiorra to make a low,emotionless moan. He grabs your wrist in a bruising grip.

“Trash,why are you being so vulgar?”

He spits out,despite his lack of expression you can tell there’s meant to be anger in his voice. You whimper and tear up more.

“M-Master Ulquiorra,I-I’m sorry!”

You whine, but his eyes stay looking blankly at you. He lets go of your hand and grabs your hips.

“You’re apologizing, but you’re making no effort to remove your hand from my hollow hole. You’re just crying like I’ve told you not to.”

You whimper then squeak as he picks you up. With no effort at all,he carries you to his room. The whole time he scolds you,degrading you and calling you trash repeatedly. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as the others. Ulquiorra looks down at you,still pressed so close to him.

“You’re in heat aren’t you? I’ve heard certain creatures go through it. It’d make your disobedience and vulgarity make sense.”

You sputter,unable to get the words out to him thst humans don’t go into heat. He simply takes your reaction as a yes and lays you down on his bed.

“Strip. I’m only helping this once. It’s inconvenient for me that you’re like this.”

He says bluntly. You quietly nod and slip your clothes off,not wanting to anger Ulquiorra. He watches you intently,giving a low hum to himself. You stare at him shyly as his hands slowly go to your body. He traces his fingertips against you lightly,the texture of your bare skin an unfamiliar feeling to him. You shutter a little,trying to look into his eyes that never stopped watching your face.

“Don’t be fearful,I’m helping you.”

The Espada says,his hands settling on your breasts. His chilly hands awkwardly knead the warm flesh in his grasp,digging his black nails into them for a second. You whimper at his actions,though this time in pleasure rather than distress. He stops only to start teasing your nipples,finally drawing pathetic moans from you. You close your eyes,unable to look at him anymore. You press your legs together,trying to hide how pitifully wet you’ve gotten for your master.

“Why are you expressing such shame? You’re not able to control when you go into heat.”

He tells you in an attempt to console and maybe help the mood, but his straightforward tone doesn’t help much. You try to explain that you don’t go into heat, but are quickly interrupted by him spreading your legs and grinding against you. You moan loudly and snap your eyes back open,staring at him in bewilderment. The feeling of his uniform fabric grinding against you did feel good though... Hell you could feel him even getting hard,a feeling he’s probably never had before.

“M-Master.”

You whine out to him,making him pause his movements. You sniffle and grab his pants,trying to pull them down. He lets you try for a few moments before taking them off for you. You couldn’t help staring a little in surprise. He’s huge for someone who looks as average as him. He’s completely nonchalant about it,going back to grinding it against you while playing with your breasts. You softly grab his hands though and attempt to push them down,trying to get him to at least prep you.

“Do you want my fingers in you?”

He asks bluntly,pulling away a little only so he can slip a finger in you. You gasp and shutter in surprise at his lack of a warning. He moves his finger slowly before adding a second one in you. You moan loudly and squirm a little,forcing him to grab one of your hips with his other hand so you stop. He keeps moving his fingers though,managing to find all your good spots with a few simple movements. He even adds a third one in after a bit,drawing a scream from your lips. You soon cum,head leaning back on his pillow and eyes rolling into your head as you moan. He pulls his fingers out of you slowly. You figure that he’s done with you now until you feel him shoving himself in roughly,barely giving your sensitive cunt time to complete adjust.

“I like these reactions from you.”

He says plainly before starting to moving his hips. You were thankful his pace was slow,though he was still slamming in rather harshly. And yet it made you clench. You wanted more of it. Despite how over sensitive you already were,you felt a new rush of need hit you as he kept going. You could feel tears rolling down your cheeks,being unable to keep them away while you senselessly begged your master for more. Ulquiorra paid no mind though,simply keeping the pace he has.

“Hm... This’ll be your new purpose,trash. You’re good at this.”

He tells you,his words both hurting you and exciting you at the same time. As much as you liked your old arrangement of being just the human by his side,a part of you couldn’t deny that the thought of being his play thing pleased you much more.

I missed you, I've been wondering when you'd be back! I wouldn't mind being Ulquiorra's plaything 🤤

[solar-bean]

 Grimmjow Headcanons Plus a Few x S/O ones 

( pretty sure I read some of these somewhere but I forgot so here's a self indulgent list :)

He died in his early twenties so he's still pretty young mentally but physically as a hollow he's old as hell

He's European

He takes a lot of naps in random places such as the roof of Las Noches

In fact he does a lot of cat like stuff and doesn’t realize it

He can purr but rarely and it’s mostly in his sleep 

When he became an arrancar he had long hair similar to his release form. It kept getting in the way so he cut it

he doesn’t like wearing clothes

Him and his fraccion use to sleep close together in case they were ambushed by other adjuchas and still did even after they became arrancars

They didn’t think much of it. Except Di Roy. He’d say it was weird and ‘un-masculine’ to which Grim would tell him to shut up and go to sleep after laying an arm or a leg over his face. 

Di Roy would also occasionally guilt trip him

Grimmjow: You’re too weak to fight with us.

Di Roy: I wouldn’t be if someone didn’t bite my face off. 

Grimm:..........fine! do whatever you want. See if I care. 

He was actually much closer to them than he let on

Most of the epsada knew it. Especially after Syazel threatened to experiment on them since they were ‘expendable.’ He did his best to avoid Grimmjow after that.

He only really got to grieve of their deaths when the war against Aizen ended

As much as he genuinely enjoyed fighting Ichigo it was also a distraction from all the pain he tried to burry

Harribel and Nelliel helped him with his grief

They became sort of friends afterwards tho he still tries to fight them both on a weekly basis 

Refers to Pantera with female pronouns 

One perk of most of Los Noches’ inhabitants being defeated is the nearly infant amount of space. So he was able to choose his own room

He keeps it surprisingly tidy aside from the nicknacks he’s hoarded from wandering around Hueco Mundo

His bed is full of pillows as a substitute of having a pack to sleep with

When asked he’ll say its for comfort

Nelliel: Have you seen my pillow? 

Grimmjow: * sitting on it in his pillow pile* No.

He steals everyone’s stuff now and then but mostly Nel’s cuz he likes to mess with her ( insert low key sibling energy )

He talks to animals like people

Grimmjow: I told you to stop crossing the street at the red light idiot!

Cat: Meow

Grimm: Don’t talk back to me you little shit!!

Hangs out at Urahara’s place when he’s in the living world and not trying to fight Ichigo

Likes human food. Especially meat.

Grimmjow: *eating bacon for the first time* hmm tastes like hollows but better

Ichigo:.....I’m sorry what??!!

Was dared that he couldn’t beat Yoruichi at twister. He won five crates of snacks to bring back to Hueco Mundo ( may or may not have shared them cuz “ they gave me too much so take it or I’ll throw it out” )

Says things around the characters in the living world about his terrible experience under Aizen’s rule like it’s normal

Grimmjow: *having another rematch with Ichigo* Damn that almost hurt as much as Tousen slicing my arm off

Ichigo: *pauses the fight* Tousen did WHAT?!!

Becomes friends with Ichigo but won’t admit it.

Somewhat apologizes to Orihime and Rukia for what he did. But not Ichigo cuz he’ll do it all again but with less deadly intent.

Learns how to cook

Likes just about any kind of movie/show. He isn’t picky 

Would get his 6 tattoo edited to something else if it bothered him

Would freakin die for Kazui!!! 

Here are the S/O ones:

Is pansexual so gender isn’t an issue

Prefers someone who can beat him up but is ok with a human if he feels a very strong connection to them

Doesn’t really have a physical type honestly 

Will admire things about their appearance cuz he likes it on them and not in general

Will be in complete denial about his feelings at first 

Like “hollows aren’t meant to love” and all that ish 

Makes up excuses to hangout with them but it’s mostly for his own benefit

“ I don’t like them. They just have a nice movie collection.” “ I don’t like them. They’re just nice to spar with.” “ I don’t like them. They’re just nice to talk to.” “I don’t like them. They just make me feel safe when I sleep next to them.” 

Gives them random things he’s found when wondering around Hueco Undo’s desserts like gems and cool sharp bones

Let's them hold and even use Pantera

Starts to unconsciously turn off his hierro when he’s with them. It causes a lot of fliching and embarrassing gasps when they touch him since he’s not use to feeling so much

Did I mention he’s touch starved?

Like a lot.

Holding his hand for too long would literally kill him

Once he’s gotten use to feeling something other than pain from another person he starts to let them touch him more. Like hugs. Lots of hugs. 

He even lets them rub his release form’s cat ears

Then here come the purrs. Louder than they’ve ever been before! It startles them both. He denied it but the blush gave him away.

He’ll do his best to purr more often since his s/o likes it so much. Such as when they’re cuddled up for a nap. Though he doesn’t really have to try.

Is confused as to why they like to squish his toe beans but lets them do it anyway

Wraps his tail around them in his release form

Will let them braid his long hair

Will also let them paint his claws as well as put makeup on him

He’s a total pushover ( insert the ‘please for me’ meme )

Is very protective of them

“ Why are you sad? Do I need to kill someone?”

If asked will follow his s/o when they’re out at night so they feel safe. Potential muggers? Thrown by an unknown force. Stalker? Punched by an unknown force. Cat callers in a car? Car gets flipped over by an unknown force.

Eventually no one bothers them at all cuz word goes around that they’re protected by a ghost or something else supernatural.

They’re of the few that can call him by a nickname and survive. Grimm, Grimmy, Grimmykins, Grimmy-kun, Kitty, Kitten, Catboy, Stinky cat, Baby boy, Baby boi, Big guy, Tough guy, My Arancar, My love, My one and only, Handsome, Blueberry. Literally anything is fine with him.

But call him My King and he’s done for. Dead. A second time. Deceased all over again. His heart will reform just to burst out of existence. 

Takes them to Hueco Mundo a few times 

Makes a pillow fort with them with his hoard of pillows 

Will be skeptical as to why they like him and won’t be surprised if they get tired of him and break up

But oh no! They’re in it for the long run! You’re stuck with them Grimmykins:)

Would most likely say I love you without even realizing it till later

Grimm: *blushes* F*CK!!

Harribel: *pauses the meeting* Is there something wrong?

Grimm: I told Y/n that I love them before I left without realizing it! *puts his face in his hands and groans* I’m so screwed.

Nel: Well it’s about damn time!

Harribel: Congrats Grimmjow

Grimm: *groans and blushes some more*

If he really loves them he’ll find a way to weaken his immortality so they can grow old together ( yes it’ sappy but he figures he’ll get bored after they long gone )

Might go to Mayuri for help and becomes his lab rat in return. Won’t tell his s/o till it’s done so they won’t try to stop him.

It’s not fun. Like at all ( insert angsty fit energy here ). But it works and as an added bonus him and his s/o can have kids if they’d like

A great dad. Incredibly supportive and loving. Mess with them and you’re dead. Or at least scarred for life. No one messes with his cubs.  

Grimm: Isn’t it weird that our kids are best friends?

Ichigo: No. We’re friends.

Grimm: I tried to kill you.

Ichigo: Who hasn’t?

Grimm: I’ll drink to that.

Ichigo: That’s a juice box.

Grimm: Have you seen my kids? The last time I wasn’t sober they ceroed the roof off and beat up a hollow. There’s no way I’m missing that again.

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Redemption

Author's Note: What if Mayuri Kurotsuchi died during the Thousand Year Blood War? Who would take over the role of Captain of the Twelfth Division? This is an answer to that in the form a redemption for Urahara Kisuke and the Captaincy that had been wrongly stolen from him.

Word Count: 4,767

Characters: Urahara Kisuke, Hirako Shinji, Kyouraku Shunsui, Shihouin Yoruichi, Otoribashi Roujuurou, Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Akon, Kurotsuchi Nemu

Ship(s): Hirako Shinji/Urahara Kisuke

Setting: Post-Thousand Year Blood War

Warnings: Major Character Death

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t have peace without a war, that’s how the saying goes. It spoke true; the Seireitei, while in shambles, was calm. Peaceful. The sound of hammering in the distance, of laughter and voices calling out to one another. Rebuilding, slowly but surely- with the aid of Shinigami and civilians alike. And the occasional Arrancar. The dead were still being retrieved from the various fields on which battles took place upon. Last time the toll had been released, they were well into the hundreds. A devastating blow to them all- on both sides.

It was difficult; so many young Shinigami had been killed, but so had many young Quincy. Too many, truthfully. Some of their own Captains had been casualties of the war: Head Captain Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto had been one of the first to be slaughtered before their very eyes. Aside from him, the entire first division had been killed- all one hundred and six members, in the very beginning of the war. Following this had been Fourth Division Captain, Retsu Unohana- all for the sake of getting Zaraki Kenpachi to learn the true name of his sword and release his bankai, something that had nearly killed him. Their beloved Thirteenth Division Captain, Jushiro Ukitake had been killed somehow. Very few knew the truth of the matter-

That he had become the new Soul King. That, since birth, he’d been doomed to take over when the time came. A ticking time bomb, of sorts. But to the rest of Soul Society, he’d been another casualty of war.

Many others had nearly died; Captain of the Third Division, Ōtoribashi Rōjūrō, Captain of the Ninth Division, Muguruma Kensei, and both the Captain and Lieutenant of the Tenth Division, Tōshirō Hitsugaya and Rangiku Matsumoto, had all become members of the living dead due to the the Sternritter Giselle Gewelle’s ability. Captain of the Sixth Division, Byakuya Kuchiki, had nearly been slaughtered by the Sternritter Äs Nödt. For all intents and purposes, the Lieutenant of the Third Division was dead, and yet he still walked: Izuru Kira, who lost not just an arm, but a lung and portions of other organs after having a hole shot through his torso. Their new Captain Commander, Kyōraku Shunsui, had lost his left eye and part of his left ear, as well as having a hole shot through his sternum, nearly killing him.

Many others had been injured just as grievously. But that was what war did. It took and it took and it took until there wasn’t anything left to take. War was greedy.

One other had been taken from their ranks. Mayuri Kurotsuchi, the Captain of the Twelfth Division, had been killed during the battle. Details were still coming in, but from what was known, he’d sacrificed himself in the final moments to save his greatest creation, Nemu Kurotsuchi, his artificially created daughter. It seems that even the coldest and most detached of people could, in the end, redeem themselves and save those who they held closest to their hearts. It was certainly interesting to hear.

After all, when Urahara Kisuke had been Captain of the Twelfth, Mayuri had been a right bastard to deal with. He could still remember that day he pulled him out of the Maggot’s Nest, and the following years. How they had worked well together, even if the bickering was nearly constant, as well outright insubordination.

Many would grieve in silence for those that had been lost. The Fourth Division was busy; Isane Kotetsu was now the defacto Captain. She was young, but strong, resilient. She would survive.

Somewhere within the Division sat Rose and Kensei, sharing a room. Izuru Kira had his own room- something that was necessary, given the extent of his injuries. Kuchiki Byakuya was being treated at the Kuchiki Mansion; Kyōraku Shunsui, at the Kyōraku Mansion. Somewhere below them, Aizen sat, chained back up.

Kisuke sat in the bed, studying the way dust danced within the sun’s rays that spilled through his window. He wasn’t injured, not really; Benihime had made sure that her master would be pieced back together completely. All that was left of her work were the thin, surgical stitches that stretched down his face, across his knuckles, over his joints. They didn’t hurt. At least, he didn’t think they did. If there was pain, he was numb to it.

He supposed he owed his thanks to Grimmjow for saving him. He’d thank him later. Right now, the Pantera was hunting for a certain Shark that sat within one of the many, many cells beneath Soul Society. He was accompanied by a Ram and a Wolf.

He could thank Mayuri for saving the Wolf. Coyote Starrk had been a savior. A sharp shooter and a hidden weapon in Hueco Mundo.

There was also Kurosaki Ichigo. That kid deserved all of their thanks, and more. Without him, they’d all be dead. He couldn’t help but wonder where he was, right now. Back home in Karakura Town? Or here, lingering with those he’d fought beside?

Slate hues closed, listening to the hammering and calling. To the sound of laughter and weeping. Of birdsong and creeping silence. He was tired. More so than he’d ever been in his life.

But now was not the time to rest, not with the figure lingering outside of his door. Five minutes, Shinji had been standing there, reaching for the door and dropping his hand, only to reach again. A sigh escaped Kisuke as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come in, already!” He called, amusement shining in his words.

The door opened, and the blonde made his appearance at last. “Didn’t wanna disturb yer beauty rest, your highness,” he teased, lips quirking up in a crooked smile.

Kisuke could remember the first time he’d seen that smile. “I think I’ve had enough beauty rest to last a lifetime,” as if to prove a point, he stretched his arms up over his head, listening as various bones popped and creaked, as if singing a song of rest. “You aren’t here to give me the latest gossip, are you, Hirako-san?”

A shake of the head. “I wish I were,” Shinji sighed, closing the door behind himself as if that would give them any privacy. It wouldn’t, but it was certainly the thought that counted. “We were called in for an emergency meeting. Y’know how… Bad everything is right now.”

“You’re down three captains, and the new Captain Commander is on mandatory bed rest.” Kisuke answered with a shake of the head. “You’re fucked.”

“And now in the fun way.” Arms crossing over his chest, Shinji grimaced. He was still in pain, too, it seemed.

Not surprising; he’d taken quite the beating as well, from what he’d heard. “I have a question to ask you.”

No, the Soul Society will not get a discount on any products they purchase at the Urahara Shoten.” A joke, though it seemed to fall flat. “... What is it?”

“You know Kurotsuchi-taichou was killed.”

“Yes.”

“They’re without a Captain now.”

Slate hues widened before narrowing, understanding quickly settling in. This was the one thing he had never been prepared for. “Nemu could act as defacto Captain.”

“She can’t. She’s a child again.”

“Of course she is.” Damn Mayrui. “Akon?”

“Doesn’t have a Bankai. Or a Shikai. At least, not one that's on record.”

“Of course he doesn’t. Of course Mayuri would keep all of his underlings under a careful watch and not allow them to progress. Of course he would. He never did think about anyone but himself.” A bitter laugh slipped free, one full of anger and mourning. A scarred hand reached up to rub at pale blonde hair. “What are you asking, Shinji?”

“You know what I’m asking, Kisuke.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

A pause. Shinji sucked on his teeth, lips pressing taunt. “The Captain Commander wants to know if you’ll step in and take over the position of Captain of the Twelfth Division once more.”

A bark of laughter escaped Kisuke as he tossed his head back, baring his throat and chest. He knew this was coming. But to hear it spoken aloud? It made everything suddenly so real. “Central Forty-Six is going to disagree.”

“It’ll be overridden. We’re down three captains and Soul King knows how many Shinigami.” Shinji’s lip curled into a scowl as he shook his head. “We’re fucked.”

“We’re fucked.” Kisuke agreed softly, gaze slipping from Shinji to study the floorboards. “Whose idea was it?”

“It was agreed on immediately that you were the only one who could take over the Twelfth and not accidentally kill everyone.” The humor in Shinji’s tone brought a smile to both of their faces.

“You’re not wrong there.” A pause. “... I have some conditions, then.”

Shinji waved his hands. “Save it for the official meeting. Shun’s calling it in three days time. We’re all to attend, no matter what it takes to get there.” He pushed away from the wall and turned. “I’d love t’stay and all, but I gotta make sure my Division isn’t all dead.”

“You make a good Captain, Shinji.” Kisuke murmured, watching as his back tensed, as his head raised. “You always have.”

“... Get some rest, you ogre.”

The door shut, and he was alone with his thoughts once more.

━━━━━━━

Three Days Later

━━━━━━━

The meeting did not take place within the Captain Commander’s hall. The First Division was still being cleaned of bodies and blood. Instead, it took place within the halls of the Kyōraku Mansion. The grounds were lovely, sprawling, teeming with deer and birds and streams. It was easy to see the wealth and prestige that came with the name.

But it was nothing compared to the Shihōin estate that Kisuke had grown up on.

Speaking of, Yoruichi had joined him. He’d requested she be allowed to attend, and lo and behold, his request had been approved. The past three days, he’d been talking with her and Tessai, deciding on their plan of action.

Now, it would come to fruition.

“I know this isn’t the First Division, but it will have to make do for the time being.” Shunsui spoke, breaking the idle conversation that had been occurring and drawing all attention to him. He wore the Captain Commander’s coat, but beneath was a simple violet yukata- loose fitting to accommodate the bandages that wound around his torso. His head was still bandaged, as well.

No one looked to be in good health. Across from him sat Rose and Kensei, both of who looked uncomfortable. Rose was bandaged around his middle, as well. Kensei’s color was still returning to normal. Behind them stood, or in Kira’s case, sat. Kira didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He didn’t seem to be paying attention. Hisagi looked ready to pass out at any given moment.

No one else was any better, aside from perhaps Isane Kotetsu. Akon stood behind the empty chair where Mayuri should

have been sitting. Rukia Kuchiki stood behind the empty chair that should have held Ukitake.

“This meeting, while formal, is occurring off the books. We are in a grievous state, and while peace may be here, there is always the chance that it could break at any moment. That is why we are here.” He cleared his throat, brows furrowing. “We are rebuilding, and we have a shaky alliance with both the Quincy and the Arrancar- for now. I do not believe that we are under an immediate threat. However, there are certain items that must be addressed.

“The first of which is the passing of four of our Captains. There will be funerals held for each of them within the coming weeks. They will be open to the public. They will be grand, as is deserving of each.” The finality in Shunsui’s voice left no room for argument. “Captains Yamomoto, Unohana, Kurotsuchi, and Ukitake will be remembered for the rest of time for laying down their lives to save Soul Society, as well as the… Hundreds of others who were lost in battle.”

Hundreds. The word is heavy within the room. Everyone had lost someone in some form, whether it be family, friend, or lover.

“Secondly, it is time to right the errors of our past. This is the reason this meeting is occurring off the books. I plan to contest the banning of Urahara Kisuke and Shihōin Yoruichi personally before Central Forty-Six.” Murmurs drifted through the room. It was one thing to bring up the idea, but another to say that it will be happening. “Which is why they were both invited to attend this meeting.”

Gazes turned, landing on the pair. “Ohayo,” Kisuke hummed, leaning his weight upon Benihime, who was in her sealed form. “I have questions about that.”

“Of course you do,” Sui-Feng muttered, though she remained silent otherwise.

He pointedly ignored the angry little bee. “I was made aware that you all agreed that I should take over my former position that had been ripped from me one hundred and… What was it, twelve? Thirteen, now? Years ago. A title that I had rightly earned before I was condemned for a crime that I did not commit, which we all are aware of now, yes?” A quickly, cursory glance around the room. “I know a few of you here were too young to remember what happened. But let me refresh your memory, shall I? Aizen was working on a way to create Hollows out of Shinigami and chose three of your captains and one of the lieutenants here, now, to test that on, as well as Hiyori Sarugaki, my former Lieutenant, Hachigen Ushoda, formerly of the Fourth Division, and Love Aikawa, former Captain of the Seventh Division.” The words cut like a hot knife through ice, stinging and causing a few to look down or away.

“But some of you were not too young. Some of you remember when it happened, and you did nothing to intervene. So for the last one hundred and thirteen years, I have been living in the World of the Living, aiding the Vizards. Miss Shihōin had been exiled from her own family, even if they did not want to do so. They had no choice. So!” Kisuke clapped his hands together, watching as Isane jumped. Oops. “My condition is that not only we be pardoned of this crime that we did not commit, but that Miss Yoruichi Shihōin also be allowed back within Soul Society. My shop will remain within the World of the Living in Karakura Town. Tessai Tsukabishi, the former Captain of the Kido Corps, who was also wrongly convicted, will also be pardoned. He will remain and run the shop, looking over it and the two Modified Souls whom I created and love as if they were my own children, Ururu and Jinta.

“Those are the conditions upon which I will accept the Captaincy of the Twelfth Division once more. If they are not met, you’ll just have to find someone else who is capable enough to run the Division and understand how Mayuri Kurotsuchi’s mind worked. No offense to Akon or anyone with the Twelfth currently, but I don’t think any of them could actually handle that. After all,” his voice quiets, head dipping, a shadow falling over his eyes. “I was the one who brought Mayuri out of the Maggot’s Nest. Should any of you

forget, I was also the Commander of the Detention Corps, as well as a member of the Onmitsukidō.” Chin raising, slate gaze swept across the room, taking in the silence that had fallen. “I’m not asking for a compensation fund. I’m not asking for a new Division. I’m not asking for a golden parade through the Rukongai. I want an apology. And I want for Central Forty-Six to admit their mistake.”

Silence met him. It was as if no one had expected for Urahara Kisuke to speak out, to give demands. As if he, too, hadn’t been wronged by the events of the past. As if he, too, did not deserve an apology. As if he, too, were not angry and bitter over the mistakes of the past.

“Lest you all forget that without me, you would not have had the Twelfth as it is today. There would be no S.R.D.I.. Mayuri would have died in his cell. And you all would be dead, now, because Kurosaki Ichigo wouldn’t have been born without Isshin Kurosaki, someone who I helped personally. And you would be down four Captains and one lieutenant.” Jaw set, he met Shunsui’s gaze with his own. “These are the requirements. And I will not settle for any less, Captain Commander.”

Shunsui shifted in his seat, a peculiar little smile curling at the corners of his lips. One that read ‘I anticipated this’, or perhaps ‘All is going according to plan’. “Of course, Urahara-san. It will be done.”

“Will it?” Kisuke countered, head titling, voice low. “Just what do you have on the Central Forty-Six that would turn their vote so quickly, Shunsui-san?”

A chill crept into the air as the Captains and Lieutenants sat straighter, stood straighter, cast their gazes down. No one dared speak, no one dared to break the silence that had gripped their throats and held them captive.

“That,” Shunsui began, rising to his feet slowly. “Is for me to know, and for you to never find out. That is all that needed to be said. This meeting is dismissed.” His face was pale; it was beyond time for him to retire. Another session of healing, no doubt.

Kisuke made his way out, Yoruichi at his side. “That was ballsy,” she murmured, gaze trained ahead. “But good.”

“I figured a history lesson was overdue.” Kisuke replied with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Go, I’m sure no one will mind if you-”

She was already gone.

“-visit your family.” Sighing, he began the slow walk back towards the Gotei Thirteen, gaze downcast. He could hear murmurings from behind him- surprise, shock, anxiety. A presence settled in at his side, shoulder gently bumping against his arm.

“Think it’ll happen?” Shinji asked after a good few minutes of walking in silence.

“He managed to convince them to let Aizen out.” He hummed, head rising to study the horizon. “I don’t know what he has up his sleeves, but… I believe there is a chance I’ll be back to torment you, Hirako-taicho.”

The grin Shinji sent him was brighter than the sun. He couldn’t help but smile, as well.

━━━━━━━

One month later.

━━━━━━━

“I stand before you today to contest a punishment that was given over a century ago,” Shunsui began, gazing up at the blank blocks before him. Behind them sat the members of the Central Forty-Six. “I am aware that I was here merely two months prior. A lot can happen in two months.”

“Like losing hundreds of Shinigami,” one voice spoke up.

“That is the casualty of war, something that you all seem to forget exists outside of your protected lives.” Silence met Shunsui. “We lost four captains. And while there are many who could step up the plate, one of those is impossible to replace.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That Urahara Kisuke be allowed back into the Soul Society and be allowed to take his mantle of Captain up once again.” Shunsui fell quiet as yells met him. Anger, alarm, it all spilled out.

“URAHARA KISUKE? DESERTER.”

“LIAR, A DANGER TO SOUL SOCIETY.”

“HE’S BEEN IN THE WORLD OF THE LIVING FOR TOO LONG.”

He raised his hands, listening as the voices died down. “I understand your anger. However, merely a few years ago, the Vizards were pardoned. Why should Kisuke not be pardoned, as well as Yoruichi Shihōin and Tessai

Tsukabishi.”

“THEY’RE TRAITORS TO THE SOUL SOCIETY-”

“THEY ABANDONED US YEARS AGO-”

“THEY SHOULD BE KILLED-”

Shunsui raised his hands once more, his brow furrowed. “Maa, maa- please, allow me to speak.” Agitated silence met him as he cleared his throat. “I’m not Yamomoto. I haven’t been here since the beginning. I was just a child when this place was really coming together. But because of that, I have been able to witness the way everything has changed and grown. How we’ve become stronger, how more and more Shinigami join our ranks each year. I was a Captain by the time Urahara Kisuke joined our ranks, stepping out from the shadow of the Onmitsukidō. I was able to watch as he built the Twelfth up from the bottom, and watched as he created the Shinigami Research and Development Institute. Without him, we wouldn’t have the Gigais that allow us to investigate further into the World of the Living, the Tenshintai. What Mayuri had to work with wouldn’t have existed without Kisuke. We wouldn’t have even had a captain to fill his place originally without Kisuke; he was the one who brought Mayuri out of the Maggot’s Nest.

“At the end of the day, you have to sit back and consider more than what those of the past did. At the time, there was no true solid proof that Urahara Kisuke, Yoruichi Shihōin and Tessai Tsukabishi were behind the hollowfication project that was, in actuality, spearheaded by Aizen. Their only crime had been being at the scene, trying to help their friends. When you consider this, along with how they have continued to aid us despite being stranded in the World of the Living for so long… Don’t we owe them this?” Murmurs began to echo through the tall chamber. Forty-six voices all talking, debating. Shunsui stood, hands folded politely before him as he waited.

He was right, and he knew it. After all, it had been his idea in the first place. Without Kisuke’s aid, they wouldn’t have ever had Kurosaki Ichigo to help them. Aizen would never have been stopped. Yhawch would still be alive, and they would all be dead or acting as prisoners. There wasn’t any real debate to be had other than stubborn old men wanting to keep history as it is.

“So, I ask once more: I wish for Urahara Kisuke to be allowed back into the Soul Society and be allowed to take his mantle of Captain of the Twelfth Division and Captain of the S.R.D.I. up once again as well as pardoning Urahara Kisuke, Yoruichi Shihōin and Tessai Tsukabishi of their wrongly accused crimes.”

Silence settled across the chamber. A pleased smile curled Shunsui’s lips as he relaxed.

━━━━━━━

Two weeks later.

━━━━━━━

The First Division was peaceful, calm, filled with idle chatter as the Captains and their Lieutenants gathered within the hall of the Captain Commander. There was no surprise written upon their features; they knew what this meeting was about. Even so, they stood, chatting amongst one another, until Shunsui made his way into the hall to settle in at the head of the hall. He used a heavy, cherry wood cane to aid him; it would not be a permanent fixture. Each day he grew stronger, healing from his injuries.

“Well, then,” he murmured, rolling his shoulders before raising the voice. “Would the new Captain of the Twelfth Division enter?”

The great doors opened, and standing within the entryway was none other than Urahara Kisuke, green and white striped hat nowhere to be seen. He no longer resembled the young, awkward Captain he had been one hundred and thirteen years ago. Now, he stood tall, still, gaze trained forward. He made his way in slowly, geta clad feet making soft ‘clacks’ with every step. Behind him, surprisingly, walked a black feline, trotting to keep up. He turned to the left, and stepped into the place where he’d once stood, where Mayuri had once stood.

“Very well. Now, since we are all here, our first manner of business…”

The meeting did not last long; many were still in frail condition, such as the Third Division. The walk to the Twelfth was quiet, calm. Yoruichi had slipped away, returning to her family for the first time in far too

long. She wouldn’t be taking up the mantle of Head of the Shihōin family; that title had passed to her younger brother. Instead, she’d become an aid to him, and split her time between the Soul Society and the World of the Living. Tessai didn’t want to return; he had no desire to come back. He’d handle the shop and keep an eye on Karakura, along with Jinta and Ururu.

Kisuke was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of a throat clearing. Head snapping up, slate gaze hues widening at the sight of his new lieutenant. “The last time I saw you, you were extremely little and didn’t have a nicotine addiction!” Kisuke greeted with a grin as Akon let out a bark of laughter.

“It’s good to see you again, too, Captain,” Akon replied, shaking his head as he fell into step beside Kisuke. “A lot’s changed.”

“I’d be more alarmed if nothing had changed. It has been over a century, after all!” His head tilts back, studying the sky. “It feels strange to be here again.”

“It does.” The sound of a little voice calling had both men pausing, glancing behind them, only to watch as a little black haired girl came bouncing over, nearly stumbling over her sandals. Nemu. Akon knelt down, arms open, allowing the girl to climb up into his arms. “Nemu, meet Urahara Kisuke. He’s taking over as Captain.”

“I remember him. Where’s your hat?” She asked, big dark eyes gazing up at Kisuke.

“Decided that it wouldn’t be appropriate to wear at a meeting,” he winked, and with a wave of his hand, it was as if the hat appeared out of thin air. Nemu’s eyes widened in surprise, mouth dropping open into a little ‘o’. “But I never wander too far without it.” Gaze turning, he took in the sight of the Division, how much it had changed, how large it had become. “Well…”

“Wherever you want to begin, I’ll guide you to it.”

A grimace. “Notes? Or did he burn them all again?”

“Surprisingly, he didn’t.” A shrug as Akon began to walk once more, carrying Nemu as if she were his own. Members of the Twelfth stopped where they stood and bowed low, murmurs of welcome echoing through the air. “I don’t think he had the foresight to do that.”

“Good,” Kisuke nodded, clapping his hands together. “Then let's get to work.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

━━━━━━━

That Night

━━━━━━━

The night air was cool here compared to the warm autumn air of Karakura Town. Geta clopped along the top of the wall idly with no true direction. That is, until the sound of a snicker drew the attention of the shoe’s owner. Head tilting, Kisuke glanced behind himself to find Hirako Shinji standing behind him.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Haunted by the past.” Kisuke replied, settling down on the wall. Was he in Shinji’s Division? He hadn’t realized he’d walked that far. “You?”

“Insomnia’s a bitch.” Shinji settled down on the wall, kicking his heels against the sturdy structure idly. “... It feels good to have you back.”

“Does it?” He mused, stepping closer before settling down, shoulder bumping Shinji’s before leaning against the other. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Fuck off,” Shinji teased, leaning his weight back against Kisuke’s shoulder. Together they sat, silence falling across them like a light dew in the early morning hours. Without speaking, Shinji reached over, taking hold of Kisuke’s hand. Calloused fingers drifted over stitched scars. “She did a number on you.”

“Benihime is a benevolent woman. I respect that,” Kisuke replied softly, watching Shinji’s fingers. “What about you? How’s your head?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Touche.”

A chuckle slipped free from both men. Kisuke sighed, leaning over to rest his head atop Shinji’s own. “This is what you missed?”

“This and more.”

“It doesn’t feel right without Hiyori yelling at us. Or Love laughing. Or Hachi worrying…” Brows furrowing, he sighed. “But they like it in the World of the Living.”

curled Shinji’s lips as he pulled Kisuke’s hand up to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles. “Some of it will be, Captain.”

[odelschwanky]

Don’t Leave (Coyote Starrk x Female Reader)

Word Count: 4055

**SMUT**

You sat there looking out at the desolate black of Hueco Mundo. The sand was so pretty, how it danced like gray glitter on the whispering wind.  The sky was deep, the clouds moved ever so slowly, and the horizon was just a thin line that you couldn't even decipher. Your hair stirred in the wind, only slightly, as you sulked and stared out at the only place you've ever known.

"Why are you out?"

You turned slowly to see him, and your heart jumped. You smiled softly as you admired the way his chestnut tinted hair swayed, grazing his shoulders. His silver eyes narrowed at you, and he appeared slightly concerned. It wasn't like him to show much emotion. You could see the slight furrow in his brow and the softening of his frown. He was worried about you, even though he wouldn't admit it. You could just tell.

"I wanted to look," you say quietly, turning back to the empty world that matched your heart. You didn't get to see the outside very often, for you were always deep inside the fortress of Las Noches. You were always inside that room. How were you an Espada, one of the most powerful beings in Hueco Mundo, yet so tamed and broken? You never understood it, but that's all you ever knew.

"It never changes, (y/n)."

He comes to your side, not quite standing shoulder to shoulder. You could still feel his pressure next to you. It was... overwhelming. He was always so intense. That intensity made you feel safe.

"I know," you reply because there wasn't any purpose in arguing. It did change. The wind was blowing Northeast today. Well, this time. You couldn't keep track of the days here. All you ever saw was the perpetual night. The only indication to the time was the slow and lonely cycle through full and empty that the moon traversed between. This time it was almost full.

He waited outside with you generously, allowing you to drink in the gloom for a while longer. You grabbed his hand when you were finished, and he took it firmly in his. He was wearing gloves, like usual. You liked the way the leather purchased in your hand, but you liked the way his skin felt much better. You haven't touched his hand in a long while. You thought about the last time, months ago perhaps. You sighed with the longing for it as he walked you back inside.

Your footsteps brilliantly resonated throughout the long empty halls of marble, almost as loud as the silence. You decided to ask him since you didn't ask for permission today. He never liked it when you disobeyed him, but he never seemed to punish you for it.

"Can I look outside again tomorrow?" You turn to glance at him. You didn't know what he would say. You hoped he would let you.

He grunted, running his hand over his neck. You were approaching the room. You didn't want to go back in there. You desperately wanted to stay, at least in the hallway, holding his gloved hand.

"Aizen won't like that," he sighed lazily.

Aizen never liked anything you did or didn't do. Anything that had anything to do with you, Aizen was already disapproving. You didn't understand why he hated you so.

"Then again, he never likes anything." He seemed to say exactly what you were thinking. Starrk looked at the ground and takes a deep breath again. He seemed to be trying to find either an excuse to keep you in or an excuse to let you out. You couldn't tell which. You patiently looked at him in eager anticipation. You loved the passive pout he always wore on his face.

"Maybe. Be good and I'll decide later."

"Okay," you say without protest.

You arrived at the place where you've spent years, maybe more, (you didn't know). You couldn't keep track of time because your monotonous life only had a few irregularities.

He pushed open the stone door you left unbarred when you escaped. Starrk looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and reprimand. You know better than to leave, he seemed to say with his gaze. And you didn't even try to be subtle about it either.

You both enter the dark, cold room. Starrk glances at the back wall with his eyes opened only a little larger than the restricted expression he kept them in. You hoped this meant he was pleased.

"What's this?"

You had done some painting while he was away. You hadn't seen him for a few days maybe. The black ink was now dry on the canvas you had propped up. The work was taller than both of you put together and wider than that. You had finished it before you had gone outside.

"It's something I did while you were gone," you tell him. He hadn't let go of your hand yet. You didn't want him to let it go. You wish he wouldn't leave so much.

"It's a beautiful painting." He said, assessing it. He seemed unimpressed. You sank, despite his compliment.

"Do you mean that?" You inquired this, not taking your eyes off of him.

He nods.

"I painted it for you." You squeeze his hand.

Starrk smiles for the first time in a long while. Seeing it made you happy.

It was strange, what you felt for him. He kept you locked up in a prison, not allowed to see or be seen by others, but you didn't hold any contempt for him. He likened you to some kind of pet, keeping you in a kennel all day, but you knew that he was keeping you safe. He was the only person you were allowed to see. When you think of human interaction, you think of him. All of your memories are made with him. Your life revolves around him. You were okay with that.

"Why?"

You look at him, confused. "What, you don't like it?

"It's not that. I'm grateful." He turned to you, face stone, void of emotion. "Why do you do these things for me?"

It wasn't the first time you had done a generous act for him. Many times you've made art for him. You've brought him things you find in the sand of Hueco Mundo, little trinkets you'd like him to have. You've made food for him on many occasions. You gave him gifts.

"I know you have the capacity to think. Why don't you want more for yourself?"

You did want more. You wanted freedom, autonomy, liberation from this place. You wanted to see a more beautiful world, like the one Starrk told you about when he went away to fight the Soul Reapers. You wanted to be free of this horrid, horrid place but the desire was never enough to light a fire under you and cause you to pursue it. The desire to be at Starrk's side was stronger.

"I... do." You say quietly. You wanted to be more. To him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Did he feel guilty? Sad? Confused? Angry? You didn't want him to feel like this.

"You never wonder why, or who caused you to be this way? Or are you content with living like this?" He walked away from you, pacing about the room slowly, and deliberately.

You did wonder. You wondered about it all the time. Why you kept like bird when you had the tattoo on your front saying you were an Espada? Why didn't you have any knowledge of what you used to be? You didn't know anything except for him.

"Of course I wonder," you reply. You never raised your voice. You didn't have it in you to do it. You were making him upset, but he was breaking your heart.

"Then why don't you ever ask me what happened? Doesn't that matter to you?"

"I would like it to matter...  but it doesn't," you say.

It didn't.

Whether you knew about your past or not, nothing was going to change, was it? That's the only thing that you had faith in, was that things would be the same. "You know that, Starrk."

Starrk sighed again, shaking his head. He looked at you tentatively. He wanted to say something, but he decided against it. You could see it on his face. The single stream of light from the tall window high in the room crossed his face with an intense white glint. You could see every strand of hair glimmer, every strand of his stubbled goatee and thick brows.

"You make everything so hard."

"St- Starrk?" The tears pricked and began rolling down your face in one swift motion. He looked displeased with you. What did you do wrong?

The fury in his face wavered for only a moment when he saw you start to cry. As quickly as he faltered, he bulwarked his expression with deep-set brows, forming in a tight disapproving line.

"Don't leave again." He commanded.

Your stomach dropped as he turned to go. You reached out your hand to grab him, but you barely missed him. "What're you talking about?" You called, a lump in your throat.

"You're content with living like a helot. I can't accept that."

This comment shattered you like glass. His tone was full of disdain. He sounded like he hated you. His voice hurt you more than his words. You'd never heard him sound so angry before. Hopelessness filled you like a bubbling pit of tar, causing you to choke up on the hot, black tears.

How dare he be mad at you for that? He was the one keeping you hostage. He locked you away and treated you like a prisoner. How could he be mad at you for not doing anything about it when this was all you knew?

He walked so swiftly away from you, you couldn't bear to see him go. Who knew when he'd be back? He barred the door and was gone. "Don't leave again," you wanted to say to him. Why did he leave you? You were bound to this room with nothing in it, but you were also bound to him. Why didn't he know that?

Defeated, you drug the painting to the corner of the large, empty marble room. You wanted to burn it, but you didn't. It was for him. You still wanted him to have it.

Your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets tucked neatly between two pillars in the center of the floor, looked so inviting. You were destroyed. You just wanted to sob until he came back.

Time passed so slowly. Still, the days had passed. Over and over, the moon fell out of the line of the window, and you were left in total darkness, only for it to come back again. When the moon passed out of view for the tenth or eleventh time, you lit a few candles and placed them near your bed. You lie there, carved out and left empty. You wished another Espada would come to find you, and kill you. That would be the nicest thing they could do. You would ever be so lucky.

The door locked from the inside. You could leave. You could go look outside. You didn't. No desire came to you to disobey him. You couldn't stand yourself. Why don't you care? Why don't you have this desperate need to know your past? Why couldn't you act how he wanted you to? Independent, free-thinking, with a mind of your own.

You didn't know the answer.

You got up and went to the corner of the room, where the silent wall of water for your bathing was. It dripped down into a pool, big enough for you lie down three times over. You shed your clothes and stared at yourself in the solid, unwavering reflection. The number was branded across your chest, down your stomach extending to your hips. What did had it meant before? Why didn't you care? You didn't want to live like this anymore.

Crawling into the water, you lie down in it. Underneath the water, there was more sound than above. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could hear your heartbeat. That was the only way you could even tell you were alive.

You were tempted to breathe in the water. Just to see what would happen.

Could you even drown?

It's been an unbearable time since you'd last seen Starrk. All those horrible things he said to you kept replaying in your mind. He was the only thing you had, the only one you loved. Could you even call it love?

How could you love a man who kept you in a cage?

You opened your mouth and let the water rush in. Your deep breath was a terrible one. Instant regret-filled your lungs, making them burn. Still you took another... but it was too much. Natural instict kicked in and you shot upright through the surface, coughing and sputtering. You threw up the water back in the pool. The retching combined with nausea building up in your gut was too much to take and you began to cry. The silence was broken with your childish bawling. You just wanted something, someone to stop your pain and loneliness.

You wanted Starrk to come back.

After you washed, you fumbled around in the trunk full of the clothes you owned. Most of them were elaborate, white robes with black trim that looked a little like Starrk's. You wore these as an Espada no doubt, but now you just wear them because it's all you have. You managed to find one of the less flashy items, a white shift gown made of satin. You liked to wear it when you slept.

With tears still in your eyes, you crawled into bed and let the feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, and dread consume you. Within a few hours, you had finally wept yourself to sleep.

***

"Open the door."

You heard a firm order come from he another side. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in a hurry. The blankets you buried yourself under had been strewn and draped all over your body. You heard the pounding again, more clearly now that you were awake.

"(y/n), open this damn door."

You throw off your cover and walk to the door, trying to wake up. Your bare feet pattering on the floor was the only noise that echoed in your hollow room.

"Did you hear me?" Starrk sounded urgent. You obeyed. It took all your strength to lift the bar on the door. You were weak, tired, sad. But you obeyed.

"(Y/n)!"

"I'm here."

The heavy stone door inched open and there you stood. Your long hair was still wet, your eyes were sunken and dark circles plagued them. You didn't look well at all. Your grief had gotten the best of you. You missed him.  You didn't smile when you saw him though. You couldn't smile. He had made you think about all of the things you hated about your life and made you realize how miserable you were. You were hurting. The look on his face let you know he could see that.

"What is it?" You ask slowly. You wanted to leap into his arms and tell him how you felt about him. You were so happy to see him, but you were so angry with yourself for feeling that way.

"Why don't you hate me?"

There was no feeling in his face. His indifferent eyes bore into you and it intimidated you. Your tears showed themselves to him and your lips parted to speak. You wanted to explain yourself but there were no words to explain how you felt.

"Because I can't."

Starrk's lips were on your in a second, and he had gathered you up in his arms. A sniffle escaped from you as you let him have your body. Starrk strode in, flawlessly multitasking between holding you in one arm and closing the door with the other, shoving the bar down with no effort at all, locking the both of you in your private world.

The only assertion you showed was the way you shoved off his clothes. Off came his jacket, then his shirt. They fell to the floor in a trail as he marched you to your bed. He laid you down, cupping your neck gently, but kissing you forcefully. The motivation in his motions was ravenous, as he tore your lips apart with his own. You had trouble keeping up. You tried to get some purchase on his back, but you couldn't find the strength to dig your nails in. Instead, you rubbed sensually on his bare skin. His bare skin...

He worked your gown off in no time at all. You couldn't feel the warmth of his touch. All you felt was leather. You seized his hands firmly and aggressively tugged both of the gloves off and forced his hands to your chest for him to grab. He eagerly obliged with a deep grunt and groped your body all over. Your heat was rising, ascending to something otherworldly. You needed him, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He ground against your hips and you could feel him, gasping through the endless, messy kiss. His pants were hard to move, so you fumbled with them until he barked at you, removing them himself.

You said his name, softly yet desperately as he tried to enter you. It hurt, and you only clutched him tighter.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

He parted from your lips to ask this important question. You couldn't see his face much in the utter darkness of the room, but you could see his pale blue eyes. The met yours with sincerity and intensity. You nod.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Starrk reassures you. He sounded soothing, exact, intentional. He wanted you to know it was okay. You felt like it was. You weren't worried.

You heard a slight slurp as Starrk licked his finger. It slid down your front, tracing the line of your tattoo and arrived at your sex, which wasn't quite as wet as it needed to be. He gently worked its way in, moving in gentle, circular movements that caused your core to tighten. "Talk to me," he commanded. "How does it feel?"

You nodded slowly and murmured your response. "It.. feels. good," you finished with a moan as he slowly, calmly entered another finger. You reached down to feel him. The length and girth of him was much more than his fingers could imitate. You rubbed your thumb across his opening, causing him to curse. Your thumb became a little slick. You continued to handle him, feeling him twitch in your grasp. He bucked into your hand, letting you know he liked it.

"Starrk..." you began. You wanted to tell him you loved him. It wasn't the right time, but you wanted to tell him anyway.

"Yes?"

Your the rustling of the blankets was all that you could hear beyond your voices. He positioned himself at your opening again, not giving your body any time to readjust back to the tightness it was before. He replaced his fingers with himself smoothly, it was like magic. It was easier this time when he pushed his way inside you. You moaned softly as your body gave way. You couldn't formulate the words.

"That's beautiful," he said, pinching your face in his hand. "You sound... Beautiful."

The way he rocked into your body sent chills through you. He filled you up with every stroke and you tightened around him every time. He went deeper and deeper into you until you could feel his hips press into yours. You were stuffed with him, and you didn't know how much more you could take.

He knelt now, back straight up and grabbed your hips. The inside of your thighs gave in to the pressure from his thumbs and you could feel the bruises already starting to form. In and out he went, growing faster and faster. His strokes were still light, like gentle swift kisses that barely swept the surface of the skin. By now you were a mess of whines and cries, but these were not of pain. You wanted so desperately to climax. The building pressure was aching inside you and all you wanted was release. You grabbed his wrists and squeezed them, saying his name over ad over.

"Starrk...please." You begged him.

"Not yet," he huffs.

He turned you over on to your stomach, and your breath caught. A firm hand came down on your shoulder blade, pressing you down into the cushions. You grabbed onto a blanket for some kind of outlet. Your hands clutched and Starrk lay down on top of you, his heavy weight feeling like a mass of stone. His face came close to your ear, and he spoke to you quietly, deeply, as he continued to drive you.

"Just relax," he groaned, making you feel all of him. His front was hot against your back and your sweat had started to mingle, making all his movements slick. You did as you were told, not knowing how much tension you'd been putting onto yourself. You were tightened on your own volition, and when you relaxed slowly, the sex felt better than you could've imagined.

He turned your head to kiss you, deeply, passionately. It was as if your tongues knew each other already, how familiarly they intertwined. It got messy, and soon his spit was dripping down your chin and your hair stuck to your sweaty cheeks and forehead. Your voice was fading with the strain. He had you in a hold and the only way out was to come.

You finished violently, tensing and clenching and crying loudly. Starrk gritted his teeth, the way you felt was too much for him. He came inside you while the two of you kissed, and he rolled over on his side with you still in his arms. He encased you in his grip, refusing to stop kissing you.

"I... don't want you to hurt anymore."

He said this between kisses, and you could feel the genuineness of the statement. It warmed your heart. All you wanted was him. Now that you had him... you were spent.

You fell asleep kissing him. There wasn't much energy left inside you. You had been hurt and healed by the same person. It exhausted you to the point of fainting and soon you were in a dreamless sleep.

***

The guise of the morning came by soft grey light, leaking in through the single window. You blinked open your eyes to see and feel Starrk still around you. His fingers lazily played in your hair and his legs draped over you, keeping you sheltered and safe. You looked up at him, the exhaustion hitting you.

"You're still here?" You sleepily mumble in surprise.

He plants a kiss on your lips and stirs, letting out a raspy groan.

"You're a wreck when I'm not around."

As much as you didn't want to admit it, he was right.

"Thank you for noticing," you pout, closing your eyes again.

"I didn't know it, but I need you too, (y/n)."

You felt around for his hand, which you found encircling your neck. You wriggled your fingers inside his hold and grasped it softly. "You... need me?"

You were dumbfounded. Starrk wasn't the type to need anyone. He was a lone wolf that didn't talk much to anyone, an apathetic, heartless man. The way he left and went days without coming to see you told you everything you needed to know about that. He couldn't be telling the truth.

"I'm telling the truth. When we're apart, something isn't quite right. I feel... incomplete. I don't like feeling like that."

So he only needed you to clear his conscience?

"But. That hurt on your face, when I came to you last night..." He squeezed your hand. "It looked like you were dying."

You were. You were dying without him. Now that he was here though, you felt better than you ever remember feeling.

"I'm not leaving you anymore."