Butler
All of his life, Grimmjow had been forced to serve others. He'd been trained to be a servant while still a child, just like his brothers and sister, forced into lessons from the time he could walk. He tried rebelling a few times in his youth, but the harsh punishments and threats of even worse ones (which he knew his father would carry out) forced him to subdue his wild, ornery nature to survive whole and unharmed. Now though, he'd finally gotten a job outside his father's influence. He was serving a "new" family- that is, one that had the wealth, and the old blood, but had reintroduced themselves from out of nowhere and appeared to want absolutely nothing to do with society. Thus, presumably, they would be outside his father's influence and he could finally get out from under that monster's thumb. Leaning on his cane (which was too damn fancy for his tastes, with a sterling silver dragon head for the handle that he thought was ridiculous- a handle should be a handle, damn it) to keep pressure off his injured leg, he rapped on the door with his gloved knuckles and stood ramrod straight. The training was just too deep to do anything else, particularly for the first impression. When an orange-haired man about his age answered the door, blinking blearily to clear his pretty brown eyes, Grimmjow really couldn't suppress the little grin that leapt to his lips. It was hard enough to keep back the ear-to-ear smirk he was holding in check. The other examined him briefly, then yawned (without even bothering to cover his mouth) and gestured him inside. "C'mon in, honey, we're still gettin' settled an' all, so Dad's prolly on th'floor somewhere, the twins are sharing the only bed we got set up upstairs, and I'm exhausted from waiting up for you so…" he yawned again, "come in, make yourself as comfortable as you can, and if you don't wanna wait for us to wake up then take a nap yourself."
Though surprised, he bit his tongue to keep the smart comments to himself (he desperately wanted to ask if they were a nocturnal family like he'd heard lived in faraway countries, and if they were he swore he'd kiss the one who told him so because there could be no better excuse to become estranged to his father) and simply followed him in. The young man pointed to a box and mumbled that it contained blankets, then crawled into a nest of blankets on the floor that he'd apparently stumbled from to let Grimmjow in. A thickly muttered "G'night" was muggy and fogged enough to convince him the young master really was going to sleep, so he did as directed, grabbing a blanket, and got comfortable by nudging the orange-head aside just enough to use the blanket nest as his pillow. Sad to say, this made a better bed than he was normally allowed when he lived in his father's home. He asleep surprisingly easy, considering he was in a strange house and had gotten a full three hours of sleep the night previously, and had strange dreams involving creatures with white masks and holes through their bodies. He awoke after sunset, and discovered that he and his companion had, at some point in the day, managed to wrap themselves around each other inside the little next of blankets, though he honestly couldn't figure out how. Well aware of his own preference and the social stigma that came with being fonder of your own gender than you should be, he decided it would probably be best if he extracted himself from the young master's hold before his body had a very telling and embarrassing reaction to their close proximity. This plan met with failure, however, as when he tried to extract himself the other pulled him closer with a low purr. "Come on baby, I'm not so repulsive, am I? Can't you stay in my embrace just for a little longer?" The slim young man pressed a soft kiss to Grimmjow's collarbone, and he had to fight not to moan aloud. He had no idea if this was standard custom for the family and the place they'd come from, so there was no telling if it was genuine interest.
"Ichigo, stop harassing the help. You did that back in Romania too, and nobody would work for us after that, so quit while you're ahead. You know how these stuffy kinds are- homosexuality is a stigma, not just a different kind of love." Ichigo made a face but let go, rolling to his feet in a fluid move Grimmjow couldn't help admiring. "Leave our motherland out of this, Karin. Besides, I can't help my preferences, and when I wake up to a beautiful, strong man in my bed and brimming with vitality and life, you cannot fault me for wanting to cuddle a bit before rising." Getting up himself, and surmising from the conversation that his bedmate had a blatantly obvious preference for male company much like himself, he wrapped an arm around Ichigo to rest a hand on his hip and grinned at his sister. "Not only can I not fault him, I feel I must inform the young miss that it doesn't count as harassment if the help enjoys the attention." Both stared at him a moment, then suddenly Ichigo pulled their bodies flush together and held him tightly. "Alright, you can forget serving my father; I'm appointing you my personal manservant. We'll hire someone else for him." Karin laughed. "Oh now you've done it. He'll never let you go if he can help it." Grimmjow hugged the younger man tighter and grinned outright, dropping a kiss on the bridge of his nose. "Well I'm not plannin' on lettin' go anytime soon either, so that don't sound like a problem." They would find out later that Isshin had hired Grimmjow as the butler specifically for his discreet preference of men and had planned this all along.
Much later, when both wore golden bands on their left ring finger, they would also discover that he had planned further yet in the hope of their future together. They married in the way of the Roma and none of the attendees from the caravan offered anything other than sincere congratulations.
It was a very nice change from English society- so much so,
they moved back to Romania two years later.
Cops and Robbers (WARNING, DARK THEMES AHEAD!)
Officer Ichigo Kurosaki holstered his gun, a hard set to his mouth as he looked at the mere boy that lay on the concrete, blood rapidly pooling under his corpse. The man was like a skeleton, all height but stick-thin, with all his bones sticking out grotesquely beneath his skin. He was obviously malnourished and in no condition to fight, but the fucker'd been armed, why had he been armed? Ichigo could've taken him down with minimum struggle and effort, if only the stupid teenager hadn't pulled piece on him. His face hard and his eyes cold, he crouched just long enough to shut the kid's remaining eye and rose to his feet. He'd kill Aizen for this, and all the other kids he was doing this to. The crime lord had begun manufacturing a new drug, and it was one of the worst ones he'd ever seen in his life. Some horror flick on TV had displayed something like it- CVX, it was called in that movie. It pumped people so full of adrenaline they had near-superhuman abilities and reflexes. It also made them absolutely and uncontrollably insane. He'd seen what a human on this shit could do- they hadn't named it yet, but on the street it was typically known as "new kryptonite"- and they performed horrors that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. They bit out each other's throats over one or two rocks of this shit, literally mauled each other to death like animals, but more vicious and terrifyingly strong than any animal had ever been. They were too fast to follow, most times, and slit your throat before you knew what had happened. He'd lost his entire team to one of them when they'd missed the rapid pulsation of her eyes- a regular junkie whore, but one who'd just recently eaten a rock of the shit. Witnessing the pulsation itself was macabre and disturbing, the entire pupil and iris folding in on itself four times in less than a split second with red-veined white all that could be seen when iris and pupil disappeared.
Seeing a familiar head of blue hair, he was raising his hand to greet his favorite street criminal when it happened. Those beautiful cerulean eyes flicked and pulsated. Normally fastest on the draw, Ichigo couldn't bring himself to kill Grimmjow and instead let his hand drop. "Shit. I thought you were above that, Grimm." The older man giggled, the momentary calm still in effect before he would attack. "Bossman had too much too much," he sing-songed, "made us alllll take it. Heheheee, butstill too much too much and he's puuuuut it in the water too! We're all fucked, Ichi," his voice took on the eerily quiet tone that told him the calm time was over, "and I'll do you the favor of not making you watch." Ichigo's last thought as his spine was severed at the neck was that Aizen had no idea what kind of monstrosity he'd unleashed, and it was likely going to be what killed him. Watching the man he'd loved for years drop, neck broken, Grimmjow mourned him from where he was trapped deep in his own head. Then he sent a single thought to the part of his brain that was in control- We loved him and we killed him and Aizen made us do it; Aizen must die. Aizen wouldn't know he was in danger until he was dead. This instinctual and violent part of him would drink when he got thirsty and he'd probably never break free of the drug in the water, so he'd have to settle for revenge.
Fight (Romance Universe, set after Anger)
Jackal had never been afraid of the man who'd adopted him except that first time in the examining room and that had quickly gone away (yeah, Jackal, real imaginative. His worthless whore mother had been too unimaginative to come up with something actually good so she'd just come up with a rip-off of his father's last name; he was gonna change it to Adolf when he was eighteen just to spite her, he swore). He had, however, been instinctively aware that he had reason to fear this man he'd grown to love with all his heart, even if he'd never really known why until the day he saw Ichigo Kurosaki fight. The gang he'd gotten out of had surrounded them, carrying weapons, and he'd been prepared to talk fast and make promises and lie his ass off to get them both out safe when Ichigo started to move. Ten seconds flat and every single man lay on the concrete, groaning in pain or unconscious. Most of them had at least one broken limb. He moved like a warrior of old, not one single movement wasted, power in every breath, and too fast for the eye to follow. Stunned, he watched Ichigo call the police to come pick them up and start walking home again like nothing had happened. It boggled Jackal's mind- Ichigo had a gift for violence, for fighting. Everyone he'd ever known from the street that was like that hit anything and anyone at anytime, but Ichigo didn't- and Jackal could think of a number of times he really deserved a good whupping. The time he'd gotten high and offered to be his biological father for Ichigo, for instance. He still didn't know what the hell had possessed him to do that, even as doped up as he'd been. He'd forced himself to get off the meth after that incident. He would've deserved a beating then, so why hadn't he got one?
When he mentioned this to Ichigo, the 30-year-old sighed and ruffled his hair. "When I was your age," he said softly, and Jackal leaned forward so as not to miss a word because his father never said shit about his childhood or teen years, "I got into some bad shit. My old man was a crazy fuck and I couldn't stand to be home a lot after my mom died. A gang called the Soul Reapers suckered me in, telling me one of the Hollows, another gang, had been the ones to kill her. I was a berserker, the kind of fighter they needed, and I rose quickly through the ranks. They only ever gave me two kinds of missions- battles and assassinations. The battles were all kinds; turf wars, one-on-ones, arena fights, underground matches. The assassinations were always somebody high-ranking on the other side, like a section captain or a Menos. I even took out a couple of Vasto Lorde. Eventually, I sniped Grand Fisher from a rooftop, the bastard who'd killed and…desecrated my mother. My last mission was to kill Aizen, leader of a new gang called the Arrancar and a traitor to the Soul Reapers. They retired me after that, and forever after I've been trying to make up for the lives I've taken. Soul Reapers are…the cops of Karakura's gangs. I may only have killed criminals, but- it ruined me, I guess. I refuse to raise my hand to anyone who isn't trying to kill me. And I refuse to raise my hand to you at all." Some stunned silence and a comforting hug later, Jackal sat with Ichigo on the couch, snuggled into the orange-head's side, and thought to himself as he nuzzled one steel-muscled pectoral that he was more thankful than ever he'd decided not to fight with him if he could help it. He also thanked the gods that Ichigo had been the one to adopt him and that Grimmjow didn't know Jackal existed and hadn't tried to lay claim to him.
Slave
"Tenth time around the slave market…you are a challenge, aren't you, Kurosaki?" The twenty-year-old grinned, licked the blood on his teeth, and spat at the slaver trader's feet. "Aye, en yeh kin ask Kenpatchi 'oo cracked 'is skull open t'proive it. Ah'll nae be broken by th'likes o' yeh, lad." Still smiling pleasantly, Aizen caught Ichigo in the jaw with his foot and slammed the man backwards to hit the stone floor with a sick-sounding CRACK. Turning to his customer, he said apologetically, "You did ask to see the worst I have, Mr. Jagerjaques. This is he." The blue-haired male crouched and grabbed Kurosaki by the shirt, pulling him back into a kneeling position to scent his neck and shoulder, as was customary for a vampire looking for a slave to feed from. "Mmmm," the bloodsucker moaned softly, "just my type. Defiant. Spitfire. Dominant. A fighter, just like I like 'em." He licked the sweet flesh he couldn't wait to get a proper taste of, then rose and scooped him up in both arms before giving Aizen a sharp look. "I require him immediately- I haven't fed in days and because my normal bleeder pair was attacked and lost too much blood last week; I am very close to the Frenzy. Shawlong will contact you later to negotiate payment." Aizen nodded, and Grimmjow began to stride towards his carriage, pulling out a handkerchief to start cleaning up his new slave on the way. He wanted that neck clean of the filth in the slave pens before he bit. Ichigo was being unusually docile for a ten-times-returned slave…perhaps he was scared by the thought of rebelling against a vampire Master? No, that wasn't it, Zaraki was one of the strongest vampires out there, for all that he wasn't a pure-blood with powers even vampires considered legendary, and this was the one who'd finally taken that brute down about fifty pegs.
When he checked, however, the brown eyes were hazy and fogged, blinking at him slowly like he wasn't quite sure what was going on. Aw fuck, that damn slave trader had given him a concussion and possibly amnesia- he heard humans often developed memory loss after hits to the head. "You'll be okay, little mate," he murmured reassuringly, "I'll make it better." The brown eyes crinkled in a smile. "Aye, an' Ah'll live t'see the morrow too, Ah suppose." Alarmed, Grimmjow held him tighter. "Why wouldn't you live to see tomorrow, little one?" The human laughed, breathlessly. "Unless ye be willin' t'donate, mah wounds'll be claimin' my life b'fiur the mornin'. Byakuya Kuchiki dinna take kindly ta mouthy slaves, lad." The vampire's eyes widened- a human that ingested vampire blood could be healed and in some cases even brought back to life, but you couldn't feed from that human for twelve hours afterward or you'd turn them into a ghoul unless they were a virgin, and if you owned a slave, they weren't a virgin. A virgin bitten before the twelve hours were up, however, would turn into a vampire themselves, which was nearly as bad because then they'd either feed from you (bad idea if you were already weak, which Grimmjow was) or they'd go hunting and get themselves killed by a rebel. Ichigo knew that Grimmjow couldn't afford to heal him, so by morning, he would be dead by default.
"No," he growled, "no. You will live, Ichigo Kurosaki, you will live for me and we will hunt together. I know a group that feeds starving vampires, they'll help us. You are my mate and I'll not lose you." Once safely home, Grimmjow changed Ichigo and it turned out that destined mates could always feed from each other and it would never weaken them, only strengthen them. Well, that explained why mates would do anything to find each other. Ichigo never did get officially "freed" from slavery by buying his way out, a fact that flattered Grimmjow to the extreme and made for some very, very fun roleplays once they were comfortable enough with each other (which amounted to Grimmjow spending almost two hundred years talking Ichigo into at least giving it a try) for such things. He never quite lost his Irish brogue either, particularly when he got...passionate. It always got Grimmjow hot to hear that heavy accent sneaking through, because it meant he was doing his job well. It also usually meant he could trick Icigo into trying something new.
Accept
When the Espada started coming to Ichigo and telling him they wanted to switch sides, one by one, he never questioned them, just brought them to Urahara and set them up there for negotiations with the shinigami. When he was informed that he was to be the liaison between the ten Espada and Soul Society because he was the only shinigami they didn't attack on sight, he only tilted his head to indicate he understood. And when the Winter War was over and he was appointed the captain of the fourteenth division dedicated solely to hybrids between hollow and soul reaper, both viziard and Arrancar alike, he took the captain's haori without a word and appointed his second-in-command (which was Kensei, for the simple reason that he wasn't too lazy but he wasn't too uptight either). When some of the more vocal opposition to his division and his rise to Captaincy questioned this, his reply to them was direct and delivered with a small sigh. "I do two things, when it comes to people. I protect them, and I accept them for who they are and how they live. I understand and accept that a hollow needs to eat souls to survive, and that as a result Arrancar have to feed on spiritual energy. I understand and accept that when a viziard's hollow gets antsy they can sometimes influence their counterpart into doing crazy shit. It's just how I work, and the people of my division follow me for that reason." As this was a public forum, the uproar only got worse as they questioned him further.
Much later, lounging in his division's specialized training grounds that was made to withstand their incredible spiritual pressure, Grimmjow turned his head to look at his captain from where he laid flat on his back in the dirt (he's just gotten thoroughly trounced in their weekly rematch). "Oi, Kurosaki…about what ya said t'them vultures. Why?" Prying open one eye, he looked over at Grimmjow, brow furrowing. "Why what?" Grimmjow chuckled, though it was still a tad breathless. Typical Kurosaki to forget what he'd said just that afternoon. "About acceptin' an' protectin' people being what you do. Why is that what ya do when the rest of yer species is so prejudiced?" Ichigo smiled just a little, on one side of his mouth. "You may not be aware of this Grimmjow, but I've seen ghosts all my life. As a kid, I tried explaining that I saw people who weren't there to other kids- how well do you think that went over with humans who were too spiritually unaware to see what I saw?" As he considered it, Grimmjow visibly winced. Kids were way crueler than adults. "I…I see. I suppose that translated ta ya bein' willin' ta believe people an' take 'em as they are now that yer grown?" Ichigo's mouth relaxed again into a semi-straight line. "Mmmm-hhmmm." Grimmjow thought a moment. "I'm glad."
Ichigo's laughter rang though the compound so loudly that people outside the division swore Zaraki had broken in again.
Tears
Crying was not something either man was predisposed to. Not for any particular reason, it just wasn't something they did. In a situation where it would be normal to cry, Grimmjow went out and started killing and destroying things and Ichigo disappeared for a few days- nobody knew what he did or where he went, but whatever it was caused him to always return with multiple broken bones and clothes that were too bloodstained to ever be salvageable. But now, kneeling before the grave of what would've been their child if Grimmjow hadn't been jumped by thugs, the mated pair clasped hands, put their foreheads together, and let the tears come. There was nothing else to be done- well, except for killing the thugs, but that would come later. Much later. For now, they got as close to each other as they could possibly get and cried, holding onto each other hard. Their tears soaked the ground the knelt on as well as their shirts, and it would be a very, very long time before either man recovered enough from the tragedy to try for another baby.
Broken (WARNING: DARK!)
When Ulquiorra had thrown an unidentified bundle at his feet, Grimmjow had at first been wary of a trap. That little emo fucker liked to pull shit like that. His comment was even weirder, a casual, "I picked you up something while I was in the human world on a mission. You've been so concerned with that one shinigami trash I figured I would indulge you." With a sinking feeling in his gut, Grimmjow tore the cloth open and found Kurosaki- but it wasn't Kurosaki at all. He snatched him up and took him back to his room, disturbed with the lack of speech or movement from the man in his hold. Sitting him on the edge of the bed, the Arrancar knelt between the shinigami's legs and took his face in his hands to make the other look at him. "Shinigami." No reaction. Those brown eyes were dead and empty. "Kurosaki." Still nothing. "Ichigo!" A slow blink, but he appeared to be reacting more to the steady rising of panic that was audible in Grimmjow's voice than what he was saying. "Talk to me Kurosaki, what the hell happened to you?" Another slow blink. "I apologize, but I can no longer recall," was his quiet answer. The blue brows drew together- he'd never seen Kurosaki so submissive and it scared him a little. "You don't remember what happened to you directly before coming here?" Ichigo's tone was still soft and almost carefully blank. "I am not certain, but I believe I spent a great deal of time inside of Ulquiorra-san's illusions directly before coming here. I no longer have the ability to tell his illusions from reality." He paused. "Further, I am no longer certain what reality is at all." Grimmjow swallowed hard, then rose to his feet.
"This is objective reality. Ulquiorra's given ya ta me as a gift, and apparently he thought he was doin' me a favor by usin' his illusions ta 'train' ya first." Ichigo nodded, but said nothing. He had been too thoroughly broken, stripped of his fire and vitality. It made something in Grimmjow clench hard to see him like this, and he knew he'd never recover that fire completely, if at all. He ran his hand through the orange hair and kissed the boy's forehead. "I'm gonna go take this up with Ulquiorra- I wanted the fire ya had, the defiance an' the fight, and he's gone and driven it all outta ya. Stay in th'room until I get back, alright?" Another nod and Grimmjow left the room. It felt very, very wrong to give the boy a direct order of any kind, so he had the feeling he would be asking instead of ordering for a long time. The sheer magnitude of a spirit like Kurosaki's being broken left him unsettled for years afterward (which had been Ulquiorra's goal, he discovered later). Though it felt so wrong it nearly made him sick, he designated Kurosaki his personal sex slave to keep the other Arrancar away from him and it was thus expected he sex him up thoroughly and often, which he did. It wasn't like he hadn't always been attracted to the kid, which made it just a little easier to manage, even if he still hated himself for doing it. The kid wasn't mentally able to consent, so it didn't matter that he never protested; it was still rape and he'd never been able to stomach that even as a Saxon raider when he was alive. Grimmjow eventually got used to the flat voice and the emotionless face, he even got used to passionless sex, but he never got over those dead eyes. After a while he ordered the boy to wear a black cloth over his eyes at all times so he wouldn't have to see them and the completely broken expression that never left their depths in six hundred years of servitude.
Wings (Gargoyle Universe, sometime between Gargoyle and Lost; WARNINGS: Mind-fuckery, past rape and torture)
Watching his lover and mate glide over the countryside had always made Grimmjow yearn for a pair of wings. Gargoyles often could tell compatibility by how well they flew together- that's where "love at first flight" came from. Grimmjow wanted to know the joy that came from gliding over the landscape with your mate at your side, knowing that you were bonded forever and reveling in your freedom together. Thus it came one day that he went to the Mage and made a deal. He had to trade the Mage several pieces of his lover's stone skin (which he couldn't fathom why the Mage would want in the first place, as it was only stone after all) but the Mage would create the spell and counter-spell for what he wanted. When it was done, he waited until nightfall and then had the Mage cast the spell just as the sun finished setting. It was painful, incredibly so, but it worked and he roared to the sky of his victory. Ascending to the aerie, he noted how naturally he seemed to move in this new body, even though it had unfamiliar appendages. On reaching the top, he found himself confronted by a phalanx of Gargoyles that regarded him with suspicion. Well, he had to admit, he was made very differently than they were. He had indeed been turned into a Gargoyle by the Mage's spell, but he wasn't an Irish Gargoyle because he wasn't Irish- he was German! He was, he estimated, about seven and a half feet tall, average gargoyle height, but he had horns that swept back from his temples in a wave-like motion, arching and dipping to end with the lethally sharp points directed at the sky. His arms and tail had multiple hooked blade-like protrusions that, upon examination, were sharp enough to cut even Gargoyle skin, his tail also had an arrow-shaped tip typical of the more warlike Gargoyles, and his sky-blue mane was nearly down to his tail.
Scratching his head sheepishly, he opened his mouth to tell them who he was when he heard a war-horn. His head snapped around to face the direction it sounded from and he snarled gutturally. "Those damn Vikings again! Archers, up to the battlements! Cavalry, I want your horses tacked and ready to ride in twenty minutes! Ground soldiers, to me! I'll kill Hakon myself if I have to, but they'll not seize this castle!" Too busy barking orders (which were followed unquestioningly because his men knew the man was so stupid-in-love that turning himself into a Gargoyle wasn't all that far-fetched a thing to figure) and gearing up in his own battle armor, Grimmjow didn't notice the looks of dawning recognition on the faces of the other Gargoyles, nor the affronted expression on Ichigo's before he wiped it clean and launched into battle. After the battle, which was won when the attackers ran away from the onslaught of a type of gargoyle they'd never seen but fought like a lion and screamed like a banshee, Grimmjow packed in his men and returned to the aerie to look for his mate. He spent hours searching, but it seemed that nobody had seen him since he disappeared into the thick of battle. The guardsman began to fear for Ichigo's life; human-Gargoyle mated pairs were immortal, but what if by turning himself into a Gargoyle he'd made Ichigo mortal again and he was killed in the battle? He searched frantically and desperately, even going so far as to leave the castle to search the forest and battlefield. He was in the forest when dawn arrived, and before he could draw his next breath he'd turned to stone. His day was filled with nightmares of finding Ichigo's dead body and memories of the torture and rape he had endured before fleeing Germany, the nightmares soon blending together until he was watching Ichigo be raped, killed, and his corpse raped further. He burst from the stone skin with a scream.
The night terrors had been so real, so horrifying, that Grimmjow had to take a few moments to sob, collapsing where he stood. He had never told his mate why he'd fled Germany in shame and fear, only that he had and he wasn't ready to talk about it. He lay there for what felt like hours, shuddering, sobbing hysterically between gasps for air, and trying desperately to regain his composure. He hadn't quite stopped hyperventilating and the tears were still dripping off his face when he staggered to his feet and started making his way back towards the castle- he needed his mate, right now, and he could only pray someone had found him. He didn't make it there that night; turned out, he really had lain there for hours upon hours, and by the time he'd gotten up there was less than half an hour until dawn. The night terrors returned his second day of stone sleep, just as bad but getting worse all the time. At dusk he broke from the stone with a keening wail that dissolved into hysterical sobs almost immediately and it took him two hours to fight his way to consciousness, to realize that night had fallen and he was no longer trapped in the nightmare. The realization brought with it an almost insane desperation to get home and find his mate. The terrors left him weak, however, and it took two more days, two more stone sleeps haunted by visions that left him trembling and hysterical, before he reached the castle.
When he arrived, he could barely stand. He dragged himself up the outer wall by strength of will alone, clawing at the stone until he made it to the top and pitched himself onto the ramparts. He called hoarsely, brokenly for Ichigo, and when he received no answer he finally succumbed to the nightmare that had been trying to drag him down during his waking hours for the past night. His mate wasn't coming because his mate was dead, and his own selfishness had been what got his love killed. Grimmjow cried out, a wordless screech of panic and despair that echoed through the castle, and descended into the depths of madness. The Gargoyles who found him had to restrain him and carry him back to the aerie- in his madness he sought to destroy himself to join his beloved on the other side. The oldest had seen this sort of grief-madness before, and a young one was sent to get many doses of the human's laudanum to keep him subdued. They knew if they let him wake even for a moment, he would fight until he was unable, then lash at himself until he was destroyed. They had seen it before. His mind was lost to them now, and he was a demon of destruction, rage, and grief. The Clan Leader ordered the tribal-marked adult, "Retrieve your rookery brother, Ichigo. His needless sulking has done him and us no good and he is the only one who can possibly bring Grimmjow back to us." Watching him glide towards the cliffs near their home, the Leader murmured, "And I pray he succeeds, because if he cannot, Gods help us all, for Grimmjow will self-destruct and take our clan with him." When Ichigo came, Grimmjow was screaming.
The orange-maned Gargoyle rushed inside to find his mate, still a Gargoyle, being held by ten of his strongest clansmen, forced to kneel so he couldn't strike out with his taloned feet. He was screaming that they must let him go, he deserved to die, he had to die because he couldn't stand to live without Ichigo and why were they stopping him? Dropping to his own knees, Ichigo forced his voice to be soothing as he answered, "Because I'm not dead, dear heart, I was just away from the castle. I was guarding the rookery after I saw a group of Vikings run toward the cliffs that hide it," he brought his talons up to hold Grimmjow's face and force him to look Ichigo in the eyes, "and I didn't know you would think I was injured or killed in battle." Grimmjow's eyes, still that oceanic blue, focused on him for a split second before he jerked back, out of his mate's grip. "No! You're dead, you're dead, don't haunt me like this, just let me die! This is why you made me live, to see this specter of my mate? You cannot be more cruel- just kill me, I beg of you!" One of the older Gargoyles laid a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, shaking her head. "He is deeper in the madness than that, lad. He is well-beyond reason, and judging by his condition has been for a few nights now. You have to make him know in his soul that you live, because at the moment he knows in his soul you are dead." Pressing his lips together, Ichigo turned back to Grimmjow. "Specter or not, I am your mate and you promised you would never do anything to hurt me, my love. Do you not remember?" The blue-haired male began to cry again, voice raspy and broken. "Yes, and I failed." "Stop attempting self-harm then before you harm me further," Ichigo snapped.
At Grimmjow's arrested expression, the orange-haired adult continued, "Nothing hurts my heart, my spirit, more than you see you hurting yourself. Watching you try to kill yourself tears me apart, mate. Stop it, before you fail me again. And what of our egg, waiting patiently in the rookery for the right time to hatch? Did you intend to abandon that as well?" Blinking, Grimmjow peered at him almost owlishly. "An…egg? When did you lay?" Ichigo frowned, reaching out to run his talons through the blue hair he loved so much. "Nigh on a month ago, now. I was gone for three nights, one night to prepare, one night to lay, and one night to recover. Do you not remember?" "No, I…" Grimmjow shook his head, his brows drawing together in confusion. "I remember nothing of an egg, our egg, or you laying it. I remember only you, my love, and failing you. Before that…Germany. My motherland. Pain, much pain, and torture. Sometimes you were there, tortured as I watched, and sometimes you were not…there is nothing before the torture." He looked up into his mate's brown eyes, beseeching. "I am… missing pieces, aren't I, my love? Very, very large pieces?" Ichigo nodded, inwardly reeling at the discovery that Grimmjow had been tortured before leaving his homeland. However, he could not afford to go over that now- it seemed he was on the verge of reaching Grimmjow in whatever hell-pit he was trapped inside. "Yes, beloved, and it is time to remember."
Gesturing for his clansmen to let him go, he took his mate by the hand and rose to his feet, then gently pulled him outside. "Come. You have lived here, with me, at Castle Ragnarok for five years. You and I have been mated for two. You have loved me since before our mating, though you never told me quite when it happened. We will go to your room, and we will mate again so you know I am real and you are real and the nightmares cannot hurt you anymore." Coming along quietly and obediently, Grimmjow tilted his head to the side curiously. "Nightmares, my love?" "Yes," Ichigo replied as his tail pushed open the door to Grimmjow's private rooms, "waking ones that affected you after the battle. I do not know all of what you dreamed, but my torture and death was some of it. Do you remember the battle, dear heart?" Grimmjow nodded, his eyes beginning to clear somewhat. "Then it was naught but a dream? You never suffered beneath Gin or Aizen or General Barragan?" Ichigo pulled his mate down onto the nest of blankets they'd built an age ago. "Beloved, the Germans have no idea Gargoyles are more than stonework; if I had met these men I would have killed them for laying hand on you and they would not have anything strong enough to hold or stop me. It was but a nightmare." He pulled Grimmjow atop him, but his mate paused. "No, beloved. Not this time. Tonight, I want you to take me- prove you are not a mirage or a specter, as it is not a feeling I have known before and could not be conjured up by a grief-torn mind. Erase the memory of Aizen's touch from me, I cannot stand it! I can still feel his hands upon me, make it stop!" Ichigo could feel tremors racking the body of his mate, and wrapped his wings around him. "Are you sure, Grimmjow? My touch wouldn't bring back the memory more vividly?"
Grimmjow pulled his mate close and flipped them so he was the one underneath. "No, beloved, your talons chase his hands away. I need that right now." Ichigo kissed his mate, running his talons everywhere he could reach, wanting those hands to leave. It wasn't long until Grimmjow's trembling stopped, then restarted for a much better reason, his breath hitching as Ichigo began kissing down his chest, worshipping every inch of the body he was re-learning. When their tails twined, he moaned, talons digging into the sheets of their nest. "Oh god…I never knew it felt like that, Ichi." Ichigo hummed and gave a firming nipple a light suck. "Now you see why I love it when you grab my tail right before climax." Grimmjow's reply was a louder, deeper moan, his arms coming around Ichigo's shoulders and one hand burying in his mane. That night Ichigo did everything he'd ever dreamed of, used every trick Grimmjow had taught him, and even a few of the kinkier things that he'd never considered before his mate suggested them (using his tail the same way he would use his cock, for instance). When Grimmjow sheepishly told him the reason he'd begged and bribed to be turned into a Gargoyle was mostly so he could fly with his mate, Ichigo thought it was the most romantic thing he'd ever heard and proceeded to show his love exactly how much he appreciated the gesture for the rest of the night. The next evening, Grimmjow commented that he'd never been more pleasantly sore and stiff in his life and he rather liked it. Ichigo informed him that was good because (little known fact) a Gargoyle always got pregnant the first time he or she had sex in which they were the one that was taken, and Grimmjow would be laying an egg in nine weeks and would have to stay a Gargoyle for those nine weeks to ensure the child didn't kill him.
Grimmjow only laughed and said it was fine by him- just as long as Ichigo was there to help him when he went to lay, as he would have no idea what he was doing. After all, nothing quite kept your mind off painful memories than being with child and concerning yourself with the hell that was a pregnancy, right?
(Note: I do realize that Grimmjow emerges from the madness seemingly very quickly, but between what he knew were nightmares and the 'missing peices' he's so confused that the only thing he holds as REAL is the fact that Ichigo is his mate and thus whatever Ichigo tells him has to be true- mates don't lie to each other. He went through several months of replases into insanity that Ichigo had to draw him out of after this prompt.)
Pure
Grimmjow hadn't realized it until tonight, but he'd somehow always perceived Kurosaki as somehow different from anything he'd ever known, almost like a mythical creature that he wanted to capture and tame for his own. Despite the fighting and the pain, he'd always seen the teenager as pure, somehow. But of course, thick as he is (which he freely admits to- he's dense, not slow), he was coming to the conclusion that the boy wasn't as innocent as he led others, to believe. The boy drank. He'd picked up smoking somewhere. He fought in underground matches. Occasionally he worked at an escort service when they needed an extra pretty face. All of these were highly illegal for a fifteen-year-old! The only purity left in that kid was his physical innocence, and Grimmjow was beginning to suspect that wouldn't last much longer either. He had never really desired Kurosaki outside of a fight, but right now, as he watched the teen mop the blood from his face as he emerged from his final fight of the night, he wanted to touch him. It wasn't sexual- God no, he was just a kid for hell's sake! He just wanted to know what that innocence felt like before it was gone, given to some unworthy stranger who wouldn't even treasure the gift. It could be said that for the first time, Grimmjow's soul had pure intentions. He crept silently into the boy's room after he finally fell asleep (he had to stalk him for a week to wait for that to happen; Ichigo had apparently picked up these habits to have something to do with all the time he spent not sleeping) and just touched him slowly, skimming his fingers over the grainy skin of a man who spent too much time working and training. He had hoped for, expected, soft skin like a child, and was disappointed not to find it. More innocence lost. Grimmjow vaguely wondered when it had happened.
Quietly lamenting that this boy had lost what little childhood he'd kept, Grimmjow didn't noticed Ichigo slowly opening his eyes, tensing up, gradually relaxing, or closing his eyes to sleep again. He left, unknowing that the purity he searched for had been, for a few moments, in Ichigo's expression when he watched Grimmjow softly pet him with no aggression whatsoever.
Visitor (Warning: mild darkness present, violence and torture, but only briefly mentioned)
Grimmjow honestly hadn't expected to find the shinigami in a big while building full of sick people. The stench of sickness and antiseptic and things he'd rather not think about sent him reeling, but he wanted to see Kurosaki badly enough to force down his stomach and go inside to search for him. He found him after following the mutterings of a few nurses coming down the hallway. "It's terrible what happened to that poor orange-haired young man," a busty blond said tiredly, looking haunted and world-weary. "Jumped for his hair color and…and…violated so horribly. It gets worse every time we see him, and next time we lay eyes on him I fear he'll be in a body bag." A slightly younger nurse with her, a shell-shocked brunette, was crying and shaking. "How can people do such things to one another? I don't understand it, I never will, and now that boy will never recover! He's only fifteen, still a child really, and now he's ruined for the rest of his life!" Green eyes hard, the blond shook her head. "He's young and strong, he'll heal…eventually. I don't understand how people can stand to do such things either, though I'll make sure that boy makes it to adulthood at least. I can't say he'll ever let anyone touch him again, but he will live and be able to close his eyes without reliving it after enough time." Grimmjow also had a feeling, call it the intuition of a fellow hunter, that the ones who did the jumping and violating would turn up in body bags themselves, or in the river ten years from now. "Remember to keep a SWAG on him- room 207." Having a definite location now, Grimmjow made his way to a room that had 207 branded on the door and entered stealthily. No point in startling an already injured opponent into hurting himself further.
"I feel you there. Do not hide from me." Mildly alarmed by the boy's newfound sensitivity, Grimmjow jumped when the soft, hoarse voice caught him off guard and stepped forward more fully into the light. "So ya know the feel of my reiatsu now, eh shinigami?" There was a rustling of cloth, but he still couldn't see Kurosaki. "I only said I felt you, not that I knew who you were, at least until you spoke. Why did you come?" Grimmjow scratched the back of his neck, confused but unwilling to let his enemy know that. "I was lookin' fer a fight, but uh…if yer in a place that smells like this, ya can't be doin' good so I guess that's out." A laugh that held so much bitterness and scorn that Grimmjow's hair stood on end echoed through the room. "That's an understatement. I won't be doing anything at all until I relearn how to live with my condition. I'll probably never fight again." That thought sent chills down the Espada's spine. Blasphemy! A man like Kurosaki, not fight? Devil's tongue! Realizing he'd fallen back on phrases that had tumbled out of his mouth when he was still alive vaguely disturbed him, because it meant he was shaken to the core by the conviction in that voice. "An what is yer…um, condition?" The bitter laugh came again and the panther in him had to fight not to bolt away from that sound.
"You haven't figured it out yet? My my, Grimmjow, I'm disappointed in you. Surely you can tell what my condition is…perhaps it'll be helpful to you if you get closer." Kurosaki finally sat up completely, which let Grimmjow see the bandages around his torso and particularly the ones higher up that were so soaked there were blood trails making their way down his cheeks to drop off his chin. He had been blinded. The older male staggered from the shock, grabbing onto a nearby dresser to stay standing. "H-holy fuck, Kurosaki, not your eyes!" A humorless smile tilted Ichigo's mouth and despite his desire to flee it drew Grimmjow in like a moth to a flame. "Yes, my eyes. If I remember correctly, you commented that you hated them, didn't you? Well, this is something even Orihime probably can't fix, so you'll never have to see them again." Slightly panicked, Grimmjow grabbed Ichigo's face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones to hold him steady. "Don't tell me that! Goddamn it, I said that in the heat of battle- I didn't fucking mean it! This is gonna make me sound like a pussy but yer eyes in the middle of battle when yer really tryin'a kill me are th'most beautiful things I've ever seen. There's nothin' more that I wanna see again than that, which is the point o' comin' after ya all the time!" Ichigo snorted dryly, jerking his head from the Arrancar's grip but proving that ineffective when his face was caught again immediately by the large, warm hands. "Well then you're just shit outta luck, ain't ya?" Grimmjow whined. "Why can't the woman heal ya?"
Ichigo sighed, one of his hands starting to grope around the side of the bed as though searching for something. "Something Aizen did to her while she was under his control stripped her of any control over her own powers. She couldn't heal a papercut right now. Probably won't be able to until after this has healed over so thoroughly it's become permanent even beyond her ability." Having noted Ichigo's hoarse rasp, which was probably a result of continuous screaming as his eyes were gouged out, the Arrancar guessed he was trying to find the cup of water and automatically handed it to him- it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. The teen murmured his thanks and sipped the water slowly, knowing that if he gulped it down he'd likely choke. Abruptly he felt something soft, warm, and wet gliding over his bloodied cheeks and after a moment of shocked stalling his brain engaged and he realized that Grimmjow was licking the blood trails. Now, whether the panther was doing it because he was just that fond of shinigami blood or for a reason Ichigo could not fathom was debatable, so he made a questioning sound. "Er, Grimmjow-" "It's just a hollow thing," the Espada cut him off, "its jus' what we do when we find somethin' or someone that's injured that we don't plan on eatin'. It's a cat thing too; whatever they did ta ya is real messy an' I can't resist th'urge ta clean ya up a lil'." Deciding it wasn't a good idea to question it when he was already near-helpless, Ichigo accepted that as enough of an explanation and shut up with a small sound. From then on during his recovery in the hospital, he had one regular visitor every night. One particularly picky visitor that always insisted that the nurses didn't clean the wounds right and insisted on doing it himself…one with huge, warm hands and an almost instinctual knowing of what Ichigo needed at any given moment that still stuns him to this day.
(A/N) *rereads several of these and then goes back to label them with warnings* I, uh, wow. I usually don't do dark and it kinda shows, don't it? Yeah, we've GOT to keep me away from horror movies or rape and torture and blindness for my characters become prevalent. Bad author, bad! Don't write things you've been trying to stay away from!