The following weekdays came and went like a blur as the Cifer Residence trio settled into their new daily routines.
As the main source of income for the household, Ulquiorra was especially tied up for most of the week. Not only did he have to wake up early to go to the gym, but afterwards, he had to take a 30-minute train ride into Tokyo for work. Additionally, he agreed to working longer hours in an effort to satisfy his irate manager, who had arranged for more interviews to make up for the time he spent with the woman on Sunday. This meant he would be returning home well past his roommate's bedtime and leaving before she awoke.
Even so, every night, he never failed to notice the plastic-covered dishes atop the kitchen table accompanied by a freshly baked dessert to enjoy after the meal. He wasn't familiar with the kind gesture, but he still ate with due diligence, wanting nothing to go to waste. He did not, however, appreciate feeling obligated to be a test subject for the woman's odd creations.
It wasn't that she didn't know how to cook – she just had an inclination for strange combinations. Sometimes they worked and most of the time they did not. However, from the few times he observed her eating, she also was not one to waste food as well, happily guzzling down anything that wasn't poisonous or even questionably edible. He came to terms with her quirks, attributing the behavior to something that must have stemmed from her childhood.
Tonight's star ingredient, in particular, was wasabi. Wasabi avocado spaghetti and wasabi chocolate chip cookies. Though the green sauce was initially off-putting, it turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable and Ulquiorra finished everything, even scooping up the last of the sauce with his finger.
He might have to consider taking her recommendation to try Pepsi with pickles more seriously.
Earlier in the week, the crib and mattress had arrived. The mattress was easy enough for the woman to deal with in his absence. It arrived in a box, fully compressed, only requiring a pair of scissors to open the package and start the self-inflating process.
The crib, however, seemed to be a challenge for her. She had abandoned all attempts to assemble the furniture, leaving opened boxes and its various wooden and metal contents scattered all over the living room area as if she had tried, failed, and ended up tossing them to the skies in defeat. To his displeasure, Ulquiorra found Yammy chewing on a stray piece of cardboard.
Worried that his fluffy companion might choke on something or succumb to a gastric obstruction, Ulquiorra took it upon himself to assemble the crib himself while the woman slept that night. He put it together in record time, grateful for the concise instructions, while making minimal noise. It was only when he found himself sitting on the low pile of his living room carpet, struggling to tighten a faulty screw for the infant's cot, that he reflected on what he was doing.
It was just another strange, out-of-body experience for him to be doing another favor for someone else's child. Not once in his life did he ever imagine he would get frustrated trying to keep the wheels of a crib in place while simultaneously erecting the frame upright, nor did he ever see himself spending an unnecessary amount of time searching for a spare Allen wrench in the depths of his kitchen drawers since the kit failed to provide one.
He had left the crib, ready-to-use, outside her bedroom door the next morning before he departed for work.
The next day, to his dismay, the house was littered with more broken-down cardboard boxes. A quilted baby play gym and mat, complete with a mobile displaying plush versions of the stars and moon, was set up in front of the coffee table. It was, dare he think, cute. A bottle warmer and bottle-cleaning device took occupancy among the kitchen counters; several baby monitors were strewn about the house.
Perhaps it was a mistake sharing his Amazon account details with the woman. She had taken the liberty to purchase the more expensive linens, electronics, and aesthetically pleasing toys over practicality and frugality.
The sound of his roommate's bedroom door creaking open and of a baby's cry escalating to an unbearable volume without the barrier to dampen it interrupted his silent recounting of the past week.
Ulquiorra remained sitting at the kitchen table, nibbling on the last wasabi-chocolate cookie while browsing through Twitter, his face a blank slate when Orihime walked in.
"Oh, Ulquiorra," she yawned, "Long time no see, huh?"
Ulquiorra made no effort to respond, instead mentally noting her nighttime attire with a fleeting glance.
What the woman wore to bed was drastically different from the cartoon-patterned outfit she wore the last time they spent time together — a silk, baby-blue spaghetti tank with matching shorts that did little to leave anything to the imagination. It would take no added effort to observe the rear of her ass peeking out from the bottom of her shorts and the hardened nubs of her unguarded breasts straining against the thin fabric of her top.
She may as well be presenting herself nude to him. Ripe and for the taking.
"Grimmjow woke up," she smiled sheepishly at him before stifling another yawn.
Orihime grabbed a clean bottle and began preparing the formula, unknowingly allowing Ulquiorra an uninterrupted view of her goddess-blessed figure. Her auburn locks draped past her shoulder blades and hovered over the small curvature of her back as her hips swayed to an inaudible tune.
His mouth went dry. He unclasped a button from the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling strangled.
Ulquiorra usually didn't partake in the act of admiring women from afar — he was far better at showing his appreciation with his mouth and hands. Otherwise, he kept his eyes to himself. It didn't matter what the women he slept with looked like. His only intention was to lose himself within the depths of pleasure. Of course, physical attraction was directly correlated with a more satisfying experience, however…
Orihime Inoue. Looking at her now, he never felt emptier knowing he couldn't and was beginning to believe he shouldn't take anything from her. Aside from complicating their agreement, as depraved as he was, he felt he didn't deserve her. She was an incorruptible force.
The woman, barely dressed, only served as an irritating reminder to the young bachelor that he had yet to indulge in the pleasure of a woman's company since their fateful encounter.
It would be the longest he had ever gone without sex for most of his adulthood. Already the headaches plagued him in the mornings where he would awaken with only two or three hours of sleep on average. And whenever he did eventually fall asleep, his dreams were infested with wanton, faceless scenes, leaving him restless and craving for skin for the rest of the day.
He had grown irritable over the recent days due to these complications.
Fortunately, after all the extra hours taking part in obligatory work-related meetings and smaller projects, he managed to secure an impressive opportunity, so he was finally rewarded with a clear weekend schedule.
Finished with her preparations, Orihime turned to face him, Ulquiorra's leering green gaze already refocused on his phone unsuspiciously. She smiled to herself as she picked up his dishes and placed them in the sink.
"I'm so glad you like the food, Ulquiorra! I was a bit worried because people tend to make a face or get sick when I make food for them, but I always wake up to see you've eaten everything and even washed the dishes! I mean, I have to admit, I was a little worried about this one because I thought wasabi was an over stimulating flavor, but I absolutely had to because it reminded me of the color of your eyes! What did you think of it?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"It was… acceptable," he confessed. It had been a while since he had to listen to her incessant chattering.
Orihime closed the remaining distance between them and swiped away some stray wasabi sauce from his cheek, "There's more in the fridge if you'd like! No need to lick the plate, silly!" She sticks her finger in her mouth, "Yum!"
The sudden proximity stunned him. Ulquiorra recoiled from her touch as if she lit a fire in its wake, his emerald eyes slightly wide from surprise. She smelled of chocolate — like the cookie he was working on. It was the first time he had been deliberately touched in what felt like too long and it stirred a beast within him.
Recovering, he locked eyes with her, his half-lidded gaze heated and dark. Orihime swallowed a knot in her throat in anticipation, her eyes widening when he swiftly snatched her wrist and promptly placed her finger in his mouth.
Her heart pounded deafeningly in her ears and a blush crept from her chest to transform her face to a bright crimson. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the slick warmth of his tongue gliding over and under her finger, his emerald eyes never leaving hers, as he tenderly sucked the digit before releasing her.
Orihime stood there in shock, her jaw nearly on the kitchen tile.
"I'm not a child, woman," he deadpanned.
"N-no," she giggles awkwardly, her face still flushed; the cold air prickling at her moistened finger hanging limply at her side was difficult to ignore, "but you kind of look like one nibbling on a cookie with sticky, sauce-covered fingers and pouting like that. I had no clue you had such an appetite!" She decided acting unfazed by his teasing was the best way to respond to it.
He glowered at her, his lips parting to retort but decided against it. Instead, he averted his eyes and downed the rest of the cookie he had been working on in one bite.
Did the woman still refuse to see him as a man?
Ulquiorra was not so much a man of words as he was a man of actions, and he was currently fighting the urge to grab her by the waist and throw her onto the table so he could spoil himself with another round of dessert. The cookies were proving to be unsatisfactory after all.
"And yet, I still find myself starving, woman."
Orihime wasn't going to fall for it this time. Nope. She was becoming quite familiar with Ulquiorra's flirtations. Despite her trembling knees, flushed cheeks, and her recently violated finger throbbing in time with her quickened heartbeat, she wasn't going to succumb to his spell. And maybe it was her fault for not clarifying her intentions to him and just running away instead.
She frowned and averted her gaze, "Ulquiorra, we can't. We're just… friends."
Ulquiorra's brow furrowed. Partially taken aback by how she managed to respond without getting flustered or running away.
He didn't intend to provoke her any further, but something about what she said irked him.
"Friends?" he scoffed, "If by friend you mean the kind that Ichigo Kurosaki insists you are to him? Yet, if he were to offer you the opportunity to do certain, intimate activities with him that would go beyond a platonic friendship, you would willingly take it. Is that correct? If so, then how would this friendship–," he gestured between them, "–be any different?"
He wasn't looking for an excuse. He simply wanted to question her choice of words. If there was a truth that she avoided to acknowledge, he felt obligated to unearth it.
Orihime did not miss the sarcasm exuding from his voice. Still refusing to make eye contact with him, she stammered in a small voice, "I-It wasn't like that– I didn't– Kurosaki-Kun didn't…!" She paused, biting down on her bottom lip in frustration, and wrapped her arms around herself, "I'm just not ready… to move on. And those are the kinds of things you do with someone you share your heart–"
"Enough," he exhaled heavily, shoving his hands into his pockets and shutting his eyes, "Like you said, woman — I will not harm you."
Orihime looked at him sadly, suddenly feeling hurt and confused.
She was the one rejecting his advances and yet why did she feel lonely when Ulquiorra shut himself off? She wanted to reach out to him and tell him that she was still there for him. Her empathetic nature had her yearning to take away his pain, his addiction, and his loneliness.
But she didn't know how. And she had denied the one method Ulquiorra relied on multiple times at this point.
Her failure to connect with him laid heavily on her soul.
The auburn-haired woman turned away without a word and left Ulquiorra at the kitchen table, grabbing Grimmjow's bottle along the way.
…
Karakura Town Family Mart - 11 Years Ago
Ulquiorra Cifer sat on a curb outside a Family Mart with his arms hanging over his knees and his head and shoulders hunched over between them. His head throbbed painfully in time with the pulse within his bruised ribs and he could feel the increasing uncomfortable pressure of a swollen nose. Metallic liquid trickled onto his tongue causing him to spit it out on the ground next to his shoes. Blood.
"Damn it," he muttered to no one in particular, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and wincing at the sensitivity of his busted lip.
'Pathetic,' he thought.
The skies gradually became a muted cerulean as the sun hung low, but Ulquiorra made no effort to make his way home. His foster family couldn't give two shits about his well-being or whereabouts let alone getting beat up by a team of six losers for fucking their leader's girl as long as they could cash in on the reimbursements for housing him.
It wasn't his fault the girl came onto him and even offered some cash.
'They're all pathetic.'
Sex had begun as a curiosity. Rumors of his promiscuity had spread throughout his school, yet the desire for him increased all the same. Upperclassmen, underclassmen, women who had their own successes in life and marriage came seeking his services. Sometimes asking for a favor. Sometimes with payment and a discreetly parked car or keys to the gym storage room. He didn't even have a price.
In retrospect, it might have been worthwhile to ask who they were and why they came to him, especially when jealous husbands, boyfriends, and suitors would wait for him beyond the school's gates to provide that information with their fists. But it didn't matter. It still didn't. The teachers paid him hush money anyway. At 15 years old, Ulquiorra found it much easier to get by in life through sex than dealing with a part-time job.
Why did he even feel the need to survive?
What did he gain by staying in this forsaken world for even a day longer?
There is no meaning in this world.
"Girl problems, I assume?" a man's voice was heard behind him, but Ulquiorra made no move to acknowledge the source.
"It's none of your business, trash."
"I see," a short silence befell them while the man retrieved something from a plastic shopping bag, "Want this?"
In his peripheral vision, Ulquiorra could see the man offering something to him. It was a taiyaki, presumably filled with red bean paste. It was then that Ulquiorra glanced up at the stranger bending over towards him and noted his features.
The man was possibly in his late twenties with chin-length brown hair and exhibited typical Japanese salaryman attire and demeanor. Trash, he confirmed.
He ignored the offer, casting his green eyes back to the ground.
The man gave him a sad smile but decided to take a seat next to Ulquiorra on the curb, nonetheless. So, they sat in silence as he snacked on a taiyaki.
"I'm having girl problems myself," the stranger began. Finished with his taiyaki, he leaned back on his palms and his gaze wandered towards the purple-blue sky, "My little sister. She's been having a hard time getting along with others — or should I say, she's having a hard time fitting in because of our financial situation and how different her hair is. I gave her some hairpins to cheer her up but… I think they did the opposite. Maybe I should've given her a larger allowance instead," he lets out a self-deprecating chuckle, "I'm a terrible brother. I wasn't even aware how difficult things were for her at school…"
Ulquiorra remained mute, his green eyes never straying from the concrete in front of his shoes. He didn't understand why this man had to come and interrupt his moment of solitude with his monologue, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do than to listen to his ramblings.
The man looked over at him, grinning from ear to ear, "You should meet her! She's a ray of sunshine. She's so kind and sweet. She's just the kind of person you need."
"I don't need anyone like that," Ulquiorra replied bitterly.
"Everyone needs someone caring like her. After all, a heart is born when two people care for each other. And to have a bond like that–"
"Nonsense. There is no meaning to the heart."
The man shook his head sadly.
"She told me something beautiful once – it's impossible to feel exactly the same way as another person, but it's possible for people to care about one another and to place their hearts as close together as they can manage. That is what it means to make your hearts as one," the strange man turned to him, prompting Ulquiorra to gaze up and lock eyes with him.
"Life may be meaningless, but I try to live as happily as I can for her sake. Girls like her… bring meaning to this world."
…
Karakura Town - Present Day
Ulquiorra awoke with a startle. A bead of sweat slid down and disappeared into his ebony hair. He managed to have a dream, but he felt so restless and exhausted. He checked the clock on his nightstand, groaning upon realizing he had managed to only get an hour of sleep. He stared at the ceiling with an arm stretched and resting over his forehead, watching the sunrise colors slowly overtake the shadows casted by the moonlight.
Ulquiorra never saw that strange man again after that day. Even if he did, he would be unable to recognize him. He looked like any other generic Japanese salaryman with brown hair and average height. And he didn't know his name.
That man unknowingly cursed him.
To understand this heart.
To find someone that can show him.
To become whole.
Curiosity developed into an obsession and eventually addiction – all the complications that came with such intimate acts included.
He never experienced the sensation of fulfillment. Not yet. Sometimes the closest he felt to such an epiphany was whenever he lost himself within a woman's touch. It was close, but something was missing. Still, it was addictive like a drug that he found himself unable to tear apart.
…
A week ago, Ulquiorra had been enjoying his Saturday mornings with tranquility and a cup of tea.
Now it seemed his Saturday mornings would be spent trying to ignore the woman with wild, chestnut-colored hair who was currently playfully bouncing Grimmjow on her lap while simultaneously singing a nursery rhyme, shoveling cereal into her mouth, and avoiding the child's grabby hands at her spoon.
At least he still had his tea.
"Oh! Ulquiorra, are you going anywhere today by chance?"
He regarded her warily, "I had no plans."
"Oh good! I was wondering if you could watch Grimmjow for a few hours? I need to do a few errands and it would be quicker if I didn't have him with me."
His frown deepened. Him? Alone with a baby?
"I have my reservations…" he started but was quickly interjected by Orihime.
"Please, Ulquiorra? For a friend…?"
"Friend?" He echoed, cocking a thick eyebrow. There was that word again. That jarring, irritable, contradictory word she so easily throws around, "You are mistaken if you believe we are anything but—"
"—Roommates?" she finished for him, "Right. Roommates who get lunch together, play drinking games while watching anime, and have deep personal conversations?" She laughed before adding one more point, "We're even on a first name basis!"
Well, Orihime had to admit Ulquiorra hadn't said hers yet.
"I don't call you by your first name," he deadpanned, echoing her thoughts. And those conversations were one-sided from her end more than anything else. But he decided to hold back the remark.
"You call me 'woman'," she said in a mocking impression of his baritone voice, "That's pretty much a pet name."
Ulquiorra stared at her blankly for a few moments before closing his eyes and sighing in defeat, "That is hardly a positive thing," he paused for a moment, "But if you insist."
"We are friends," she affirmed, nodding enthusiastically, her smile so big and blinding, Ulquiorra had to squint his eyes.
'Just not the kind of friendship she shared with Ichigo Kurosaki,' he surmised with bitterness.
"Okay! Now that that is established…," Orihime passed Grimmjow to her raven-haired friend who received him hesitantly, his inexperienced hands awkwardly positioned to hold the baby to his chest.
"You need to support his head, hm— no, like this… yes that's right. He can actually hold his head up for a while but he's still working on it. And then you need to...," the substitute nanny continued correcting him on various things for a task as simple as holding a three-month-old child. Ulquiorra was beginning to feel even more doubtful that he was suitable for the task.
"Woman, I don't even know how to hold this thing properly," his frowning intensified.
"You'll be fine, Ulquiorra! Look, you can just set him down on the mat, belly down, and give him some toys to entertain himself while I'm gone. I won't take long. Promise!"
He threw her a skeptical glance before having to scramble to readjust his hold on the infant when it decided to randomly flail like babies tend to do.
Orihime giggled at the sight of Ulquiorra's helplessness but trusted that the boys would be okay.
"I left some instructions on how to prepare his food on the kitchen table if he gets hungry, and I'm sure you can figure out how to change his diaper. If anything, just search it up on the internet or you can call me."
She gathered her things and grabbed the key from the front hall with such casual familiarity, it was as if she lived there and for some reason it just occurred to Ulquiorra at that moment that she, in fact, did. "And no TV!" she adds, "We don't want him getting addicted to screen time."
She planted a noisy kiss on the infant's forehead, "See you in a bit! Good luck!"
…
Thirty minutes into babysitting, Ulquiorra was bored out of his mind.
Grimmjow lay on the plush mat laid out in the living room, an abundance of toys scattered within his chubby arm's length.
The infant reached for a rattler, grasping it firmly and minutely shaking it before dropping it ungracefully. The baby cooed at the sound in wonder, bobbing his head up and down. Unamused by his lack of dexterity and general uneventfulness, Ulquiorra sighed and absentmindedly checked the time on his phone.
All his social media feeds had been scrolled through, all emails corresponded, all options of entertainment exhausted. The woman had forbidden him from watching TV as well. Something about screen time having negative effects on the child's brain development and that face-to-face interactions were the most enriching and beneficial to his mental health...
The woman had taken the luxury of buying all sorts of gadgets since Ulquiorra had given her access to his Amazon account, so they were in no shortage of baby monitors. He had attempted to leave the child to his own devices and confine himself within the solitude of his bedroom with only the baby monitor as a means of making sure the baby doesn't spontaneously end its own life…
But the infant was making too much noise – various babbles and whines that Ulquiorra had no experience interpreting. Every seemingly unnatural twitch and flail of his limbs brought him on high alert. Was he hungry? Was his diaper wet? Was he choking on something? Exhibiting symptoms of illness?
Why did he even care?
Perhaps he wanted to prove his capabilities to the woman – or himself. Perhaps he didn't want her to be upset. Images of his female roommate with tears brimming her caramel-brown eyes flitted through his mind. The memory unsettled him.
He concluded the best solution was to observe the baby up close so he could react in a timely manner if the situation called for his assistance.
Still, was there anything this tiny human could do that would make the experience enjoyable for the both of them?
Ulquiorra began a search query on Google for '3-month-old baby tricks' only to be disappointed to discover that a child at that age couldn't even so much as roll over yet.
Yammy sauntered over to where Ulquiorra sat on his haunches next to the blue-haired child. The Pomeranian's rounded, fluffy tail bobbed side-to-side as his beady, brown eyes gazed at his owner, demanding attention. Ulquiorra patted the dog's head.
"Grimmjow is even more useless than you, Yammy."
Ulquiorra ignored the twinge of unexplainable irony nagging at the tip of his tongue.
The child's face contorted into something that could be interpreted as scornful. If Ulquiorra hadn't known any better, he would have thought the child understood him and didn't like being compared to Yammy.
But then the infant's face relaxed and a putrid smell wafted into Ulquiorra's nostrils. He grimaced.
Great.
…
"Ahh~!" Orihime sang to herself after taking a long sip of her limited edition lavender matcha latte, "Nothing like rewarding yourself at the end of some errands with a treat!"
Passersby eyed the young woman talking to herself on the bench in the middle of the park but she paid no attention to them.
It was a cool mid-November afternoon. The leaves were beginning to turn a beautiful array of reds and browns and the air was crisp so she decided to take a quick detour through the town park on her way home. She loved Grimmjow but it had been a while since she was granted some freedom and she didn't know when the next opportunity would be.
Orihime was confident Grimmjow was in good hands despite Ulquiorra's reluctance to the entire situation. Something told her that when under certain expectations, he would prove himself to be quite dependable in being a caretaker. Ulquiorra took requests like they were missions and he had too much pride to be less than perfect at any assignment.
She leaned her head back and gazed up at the cloudy sky.
"I wish Tatsuki were here," she muttered quietly to herself.
Her best friend had moved temporarily to America to study English and business with hopes to run an international dojo when she returned. Orihime supported her with the entirety of her heart but the timing was awful. Not long after Tatsuki had hopped onto her flight, her relationship with Ichigo had ended and Orihime was stuck in a lonely, endless loop of emotional distress and faux optimism with little to no support system.
Tatsuki, of course, suggested she postpone her plans to return to Japan for her, but Orihime fervently declined the offer, claiming she needed to find the strength within herself to overcome the obstacle.
A year later, she had yet to find it.
Raindrops pelted down, slowly at first and then increasing steadily to a downpour. Fortunately, Orihime left the house prepared. She pulled out her umbrella and walked to an area where she would be better protected from the elements as she continued to nurse on her latte. Still wanting to finish her warm drink outdoors, she leaned against a tree, her mood growing increasingly melancholic as the rain continued on.
'If I were the rain that joins the sky and earth that otherwise never touches, could I join two hearts as well?'
Orihime thought of Ichigo. She so desperately wanted to create that bond with him — something Rukia had achieved without effort. Being able to communicate with Ichigo was already difficult but day after day, year after year, the chasm that separated them only grew and it actually had nothing to do with Rukia. It was about her insecurities; her self-doubt coupled with Ichigo's inability to bridge the connection with the right words. If there was any attempt, it would have been from her.
But many times, they were feeble attempts. There had always been a disconnect; she was at a loss for words when it came to voicing her concerns to Ichigo. They both struggled in that department, but it was Orihime's unconditional love for Ichigo that had her consistently initiating. It was always her reaching out to him, comforting him, seeking him…
However, most of the time, she kept to herself. She wanted to keep an image of everlasting sunshine to dispel the darkness by doing silly things and making silly faces to make him smile or forget his troubles. After all, Ichigo was dealing with his own demons. Being a burden was the last thing Orihime wanted to be perceived as.
As for Ichigo – sometimes it felt like he was too careful around her. If she was a burden, she couldn't trust Ichigo would tell her so. Maybe he, too, wanted to maintain a sparkling image as a prince in shining armor atop a white horse — always a gentleman, always a hero. A man with such virtue would be so careful to not make their damsel upset. In the end, he treated her like she was made of glass; he constantly reminded her to stay back when situations got complicated even though she had proven herself to be able to handle her own and she was rarely given the opportunity to make that decision for herself.
She had gone through so much; being a victim of bullying, grieving the loss of her brother, living alone on allowance, juggling a part-time job while maintaining her Top 3 status at school… Orihime knew she was a capable, independent woman. Did anyone agree?
A mental image of Ulquiorra flickered in her mind. Deep green eyes void of emotion and dark lips set in an eternal frown. She sighed, her thoughts drifting towards her week with the stoic landlord.
Ulquiorra was… not like Ichigo. He was not sweet nor gentle with words. They had clashing perspectives on life, friendships, and love. Yet, she admired that he didn't hold himself back. He wasn't afraid of hurting her feelings.
Despite his forwardness, Ulquiorra had never breached her boundaries. She could tell he trusted her to control the situation if he went too far. His advances were exhilarating. Her heart used to race whenever Ichigo so much as smiled at her but Ulquiorra…? Without even a smile, the hungry look in those burning, green eyes made her toes curl.
Orihime blushed and took another sip of her latte, warmth spreading from her cheeks to her toes.
Would it be so bad to admit she liked his flirting? If one could call it that.
She internally squealed, slapping her cheeks. 'Get a grip, Orihime! You are not a naughty girl!' she mentally reprimanded.
Her idea of sex involved red roses and heart-shaped candles, soft caresses and slow kisses, longing gazes and eating Chinese takeout on the balcony of a 5-star hotel overlooking a moonlit beach.
Not whatever Ulquiorra offered.
It didn't matter what kind of adventures to achieve mind-blowing orgasms with him would involve. She had no interest in that kind of lovemaking whatsoever. Whether it entailed collars and bunny ears, nipping and sucking skin until it bruised, choking until her insides were screaming in confusion for ecstasy or air as her life teetered near the edge; raunchy, loud sex against the wall of a dirty public restroom stall at the mall, or handcuffs and blindfolds that prevented her from interfering with his explorations into unclaimed territory and penetrating defenses not meant to be penetrated—
'Kyaa! Stop it!' she spun her head from side-to-side searching for any witnesses of her wanton thoughts and head-to-toe flushed skin. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she exhaled slowly and regained her composure by mentally discarding the perverted images and sounds.
The rain had slowed to a sprinkle and though she felt she could enjoy her freedom a while longer, she figured two hours with Grimmjow would be enough torture for her dark-haired roommate.
…
Upon returning home, Orihime was promptly greeted by Ulquiorra standing impatiently within the genkan.
"Oh! Ulquiorra, I wasn't expecting you there," she had to awkwardly step around him, eyeing him with suspicion as she did so. The look in his viridian eyes was nothing short of controlled excitement. The man was nearly trembling in his slippers.
"Do you need something, Ulquiorra?"
"Come, woman."
Orihime quickly removed her shoes and followed after him into the living area, curious what could have her roommate so uncharacteristically thrilled.
He motioned her to crouch down next to the infant lying prone on his cushioned mat.
"Observe," Ulquiorra said as he aimed a finger gun at the infant.
"Cero."
It took a few seconds, but Grimmjow lifted his head up, kicked his tiny feet up behind him in a swimming motion, and eventually rolled over.
Orihime erupted in squeals and applause.
"Oh my gosh! He rolled ove– wait," she swatted Ulquiorra's hand, still poised as a pistol, "He's not a dog!"
She immediately returned her attention to Grimmjow, cheering him to roll over again.
Ulquiorra huffed proudly and relaxed his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets. He discovered the child might actually be a prodigy – the ability to roll over was a milestone most babies well into their fourth month of living struggle to achieve and Grimmjow had done so an entire month in advance. Soon he will be able to crawl, walk, and become king of the world.
Orihime turned to Ulquiorra, "What's a 'cero'?"
"Something from an anime," he said nonchalantly.
Orihime stifled a giggle behind her hand. She never would have thought Ulquiorra to be a fan of anime.
"Ah!" She picked the infant up and held him at face-level as she inspected his diaper, "You did it so neatly!"
"It took no effort to follow the instructions you had provided. Additionally, there are endless resources on the internet to refer to."
"TikToks, huh?" She gave him a teasing look.
Ulquiorra replied with a scowl, "Do not underestimate me. WikiHow is sufficient."
Orihime laughed at this much to Ulquiorra's dismay, not understanding what his female companion found so entertaining.
She gently returned Grimmjow to his play mat. The little baby began to lift up on his chubby arms, bobbing his head as he wiggled about, "Oh! Is he about to roll over again? Wait, wait. Lemme try. Cero!"
Ulquiorra sighed, shaking his head, "I will show you how it's done," he brought a finger to Grimmjow's face, "Cero."
The baby did not roll over. Instead, the azure-eyed child gave one final push upwards, locked eyes with his green-eyed caretaker, and laughed. Laughed. It seemed Ulquiorra was the household comedian today.
"Child, this is no laughing matter. You are supposed to–"
Orihime placed a hand on Ulquiorra's shoulder, halting his reprimanding, "Ulquiorra. He's laughing."
"What of it, woman?" he replied monotonously, unable to experience the same joy in the moment that the woman was having.
"That's two milestones in a day!" Orihime squealed excitedly.
The substitute mother picked up the baby once again, holding him endearingly against her chest. Both of them lost in delight with Grimmjow still laughing. Ulquiorra gazed at the sight, his expression unchanging. He supposed it was a moment to be happy about but he felt none of that. For now, he soaked in the image of a smiling Orihime cradling a giggling baby in her arms, capturing it in his mind's eye and mentally filing it away for a day when he would perhaps be able to appreciate such trivial things.
Orihime, rubbing her nose and blowing raspberries into the baby's chest, glanced over at Ulquiorra. The forlorn expression on his features made her heart squeeze painfully. His viridian eyes were soft, almost as if he was yearning to be with them but not knowing how.
Without hesitation, she passed Grimmjow to him. He gave her a puzzled look, eyeing her when she crawled on all fours to get behind him, and was taken by surprise when she covered his eyes with her hands.
"woman, what are you–"
"Peekaboo!" she chimed at the same time she removed her hands to reveal Ulquiorra's startled, green eyes to the infant, her chin resting atop his raven-black hair.
Grimmjow responded with chest-heaving laughter, the sound strumming a chord deep within Ulquiorra's empty chest. He stared in wonder at the baby until Orihime blocked his vision again.
"Peekaboo!"
Laughter from the woman and child resonated throughout the home, filling the once empty space with sound. He felt the child in his hands rumble with joy, a toothless, gummy smile plastered on his face.
I see…
Suddenly, Orihime leaned forward and Ulquiorra was instantly overwhelmed with the sensation of her full breasts pressing against the nape of his neck, the intoxicating scent of sweet vanilla, and lastly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders in an embrace.
He could feel her smiling against his hair when she whispered,
"Everything will be just fine."
If it was to him or herself, he did not know.
…
"Here ya go, Ulquiorra."
Gin Ichimaru slid over an Old Fashioned, Ulquiorra immediately grabbing it and gulping it down in a single breath as if it were water. The ice clinked in the empty glass as he set it down.
"Whoa there, my guy. Should we be doin' shots instead?" the silver-haired man's grin grew wider as he teased him.
"No shots," Ulquiorra groaned under his breath.
The word abruptly brought back memories of the previous weekend with Orihime. Everything was starting to remind him of Orihime. That damn woman was beginning to occupy more of his thoughts with each interaction and it was taking a mental toll on him. He was in dire need of emptying his mind with brain-numbing amounts of alcohol and women.
Gin raised an eyebrow with interest, but contrary to his usual teasing, he decided not to pry this time and fixed Ulquiorra another drink. Extra liquor this time.
Ulquiorra glanced at the woman sitting at the bar next to him.
She was dressed in a revealing, red cocktail dress; her strawberry-blonde waves flowed past her shoulders and settled at her exposed lower back. Her blue eyes were fixated on Gin who was currently putting together a drink for another customer, her expression adoring and soft.
She looked familiar…
Without realizing it, Ulquiorra made a near-fatal mistake of outright staring at the woman.
"She's off limits."
Ulquiorra turned to the source of the voice and startled at the sight of piercing blue eyes narrowing in on him. Gin's smile stretched from ear to ear and yet it didn't reach his eyes; the killing intent was evident on his face. He swallowed the knot in his throat. Ulquiorra may have ruined relationships due to his gallivanting countless times before, but Gin Ichimaru was the one man whose woman he supposed he shouldn't be messing with. He averted his eyes, deciding now was the time to enjoy his drink a little slower.
Satisfied with Ulquiorra's silent compliance, Gin resumed his business of cleaning some glassware with a settled nonchalance.
"Gin, stop that! You're scaring the poor guy!" Gin's smile turned upside-down at her chastising. She turned to Ulquiorra, "Hi, I'm Rangiku."
"Ulquiorra Cifer," he replied, already bored, seeing as there was no benefit in continuing pointless chatter if it didn't result in him getting laid.
She chuckled, "Yes, I know of you. You're quite popular around these parts as well, huh?"
Ulquiorra sighed, "So it seems."
"You're just as cold as they say you are," she mused.
The door chimed and a white-haired boy who seemed all too young to be allowed in such a place walked in. In fact, the bouncer had stopped him from stepping in any further and the boy engaged the much larger adult in an argument.
"I told him to just text me when he's outside," she rolled her eyes, "Well. Thanks for the drink, Gin. I'll see you at home!"
Rangiku placed her empty martini glass on the counter and gave Gin a sweet smile and a wink who returned it with a nod. As she walked away, her long strawberry-blonde hair swaying in time with her curvaceous hips, she looked over her shoulder at Ulquiorra, "I'm sure I'll be seeing you around, Cifer-san!"
…
Ulquiorra had just about made it down the stairs and rounded the corner when his knees buckled, and he hurled the contents of his stomach onto the ground. It was a late night in Shibuya, so passersby didn't bat an eye at the common scene. Heart slamming painfully against his rib cage, he clenched his fists in frustration. He spit out the last of the acrid bile from his mouth and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The migraine dulled, the pressure in his skull seemingly relieved by vomiting.
He cursed to himself when he noted the time on his phone. The last train to Karakura Town was about to depart and he wasn't in the condition to run for it. So now he would have to pay the increased late hour taxi rate. 'Great,' he thought sarcastically for the second time that day.
This was the issue with resorting to hotels. There were none in Karakura town, so he had to take his 'companion' to Tokyo via a 30-minute train ride. It wasn't an attractive scenario for a young bachelor of his caliber, but all was well when it came to one-night stands and desperation.
Except it seemed he would be having none of that tonight.
He blamed the alcohol and the lack of sleep. He blamed the bumpy train ride with its multiple stops. He blamed the trash who insisted on holding onto him, jostling and shaking him around with her as she struggled with her sobriety.
It had nothing to do with the dizzying images of a beautiful auburn-haired woman and a smiling blue-eyed baby swimming around in his head, the sound of their laughter ringing and scraping along the confines of his consciousness.
And absolutely nothing about how much he desired to have sex and forget it all.
He thought about the velvet softness that was Orihime's skin against his fingertips, her quiet whimpers and caramel-brown eyes beckoning him to continue his intimate worshiping. He thought about the exposed flesh of her neck when she would angle her jaw to the side just waiting to be abused by his lips and the taste of her tongue on his.
He wanted her.
Achieving satisfaction was no longer viable with trash like the woman he left untouched on the hotel bed.
Anger, frustration, confusion, and lust were strong emotions that did not mix well with alcohol so instead of enjoying a night like he had done countless times in the past, he was sick to his stomach and distracted beyond the point of recovery.
And he couldn't have her. He shouldn't.
Yet the yearning remained. His mind spun in circles seeking solutions to suppress the unyielding intensity of the desire gnawing at the edges of his soul. He could, at the very least, attempt to mask the chaos with heartless stoicism, but the unrelenting beast that was his lust for her only evolved with each day.
The absurdity of the situation left him breathless — how is it now of all times that he hesitated? How could he have begun to develop such a strong, irrational attachment toward a woman whom he had initially judged as someone he wanted nothing to do with?
Ulquiorra struggled for an answer. More specifically, a solution to the madness. Somehow, he had lost all control and Orihime Inoue was the cause.
If he selfishly took her to bed to quell his obsession, what would be left? There was the threat of turning her into an empty husk of a human by defiling an act she considered sacred to do with those she shared her heart with.
Damn the heart.
So what if he breaks her?
He recalled every moment she directed an unadulterated smile at him and every tear she shed over her lost love. He could recall every word of the lullabies he would hear her singing to the infant behind her closed bedroom door during the late hours of the night, and with each bite of her cooking he felt a tender, warm sensation — in the presence of wasabi or not.
She was inspirational. Brilliant and strong.
And she deserved better.
…
Orihime startled at the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. She had just fallen asleep next to Grimmjow's crib in her bedroom. The baby began to cry, also jostled awake by the disruptive sounds.
Groggily, the young nanny tended to the baby next to her first, cradling him in her arms while she rocked him back to sleep.
'What's going on…' she internally mused while rubbing the sleep from her eyes and suppressing a yawn.
Placing Grimmjow down, she peeped out of her room to see Ulquiorra throwing his house keys and wallet to their respective places, his hardened expression extra grumpy.
"Is everything alright, Ulquiorra?" she asked warily.
He didn't spare her a moment and sauntered to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Unsatisfied, Orihime felt the need to prod. She stepped up to his closed door, pressing her forehead against the cool surface.
"Ulquiorra, maybe you'll feel better if you talk— eep!"
Suddenly, the door was wrenched open and Orihime stumbled forward, just barely able to catch herself from meeting the floor.
"Did you poison my food?"
"What, no—"
"Of course not," he interjected, his low voice harsh and venomous, "Someone like you wouldn't be capable of inflicting harm on anyone."
Orihime knew he went out intending to get laid. Yes, she still disapproved of it, but she understood that cutting an addiction cold turkey was easier said than done. But Ulquiorra had returned home earlier than she expected. Did he fail to seduce someone? Is that why he was directing his frustrations towards her?
"I don't… understand," she bit down on her lip, feeling helpless in providing him the comfort she felt he needed in that moment. It was as if he was wound into a ball so tight, the tension had finally snapped from the pressure, and he was unraveling.
"What have you and that wretched spawn done to me, woman?" Ulquiorra spat, "Ever since you came into my life, nothing has been the same. You've been plaguing my mind to the point of illness. Now leave me alone."
Orihime just stood there, stunned into silence. Did he understand the romantic implications of what he had just confessed to her? Or was she the one misunderstanding something? Sometimes she felt like Ulquiorra spoke in riddles like an ancient, otherworldly being.
"Ulquiorra, what are you—"
"OUT!" he barked, slamming the door in her face hard enough to make the generated force whip her hair off her shoulders.
Apologies for not updating here, but I am primarily on AO3! I will do my best to upload here as well from now on, but do check AO3 first for a new chapter.
Please leave a review (or kudos/comment on AO3)! I would love to hear your thoughts.