This Twisted Tryst [Bleach][Grimmjow/Orihime]

[whomever]

Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Orihime Inoue x Grimmjow Jaggerjack
Theme Set: Alpha
Rating: R - Mentions of adult situations and heavy coarse language.
Author's Note:  Un-explanatory spoilers through the most recent manga chapters. Well, I've gone and screwed myself sideways. I just made myself like NoitOrihime. Why? God only knows. Either way, 'tis a set of thirteen drabbles revolving around GrimmHime, with mentions of Grimmjow/Cirucci and some strong notions of NoitOrihime. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and my personal favorite is XIII.

I. Running Away

Orihime lay in her bed in Hueco Mundo, the perpetual moonlight leaking through her barred window and painting the room in morose black and white pinstripes. Grimmjow had already come and gone, leaving her bed in more disarray than her torn clothes and disheveled hair.

Run away, her mind screamed again, begging and pleading for her to heed it. She pictured her conscience on its knees, hands clasped together, and then she wondered if maybe this was the brink of insanity.

Looking without seeing, Orihime's hollow eyes glanced up at the hairpins resting comfortably on the edge of her night table. She felt a little guilty, knowing the Shun Shun Rikka inside probably didn't appreciate the way the bed would rock noisily every time the man with a hole in his abdomen came for a visit.

"Run away, you dolt!" Tsubaki would scream at her in moments of utmost irritation, usually after an especially loud experience with Grimmjow or when he was forced to listen to Orihime cry. Still, Orihime couldn't even muster up the strength to shake her head.

When Ulquiorra came with her dinner, or even just to make sure she was still loyal to Aizen, he always told her she had the right to wander about the citadel. Perhaps it was meant to cheer her up; she suspected so, but then she didn't think Ulquiorra really had all that much compassion lurking behind those sad, empty eyes. Grimmjow occasionally even told her the same thing, saying things like, "Stop that Goddamn sobbing! At least you have free reign of the whole place!"

No, she thought. Neither the words "free" nor "reign" belonged to her. This place, reigned over by that deceitful Aizen, sucked every ounce of freedom from her listless body.

Run away, a soft voice called. The voices of her friends, she knew. Or at least the remnants of her friends that called to her from the depths of her heart, beseeching with every speck of their deteriorating strength for her to save herself.

But Orihime felt that there was nothing left to be saved. She was content to live a dead life there in that citadel, in that room, between those torn silk sheets and swallowed by her shame and guilt. She was content to listen to Grimmjow say each night as he stood in the doorway and glanced back, "Don't you dare run away, because I won't save you."

And the very notion of being saved, even by him, was enough to keep her there.

II. Make Believe

Throughout her twisted relationship with Grimmjow, Orihime often liked to imagine what things would be like back in Karakura Town. Would their odd association make any more sense there than it did here? With all those things to do, not just staring at white plaster walls, would he maybe take her out sometimes instead of just visiting her when he needed something?

She had to assume that the answer was no, because no matter where she went, Grimmjow would always be Grimmjow. He would always be greedy, irritable, angry, ambitious, possessive, domineering, and just a little bit lascivious. But thinking about it then, she realized that no matter where she happened to be, she wanted it to be with him.

III. Old Sayings

"A watched pot never boils," Orihime told him as he paced about her room late one night, irate with Aizen taking his sweet time conquering the world and whatnot.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, shooting her a frustrated glare.

She shifted uncomfortably, but told him anyway: "It means that the more you wait for it, the longer it'll seem before it happens."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "That's bullshit! Is this another one of those stupid sayings, like that 'a bird in the hand is worth three in the basket' crap?"

Orihime bit her lip, hands toying with the soft fabric of her hakama. "It's actually 'one bird in the hand is worth two in the bush'…"

"Oh, what the fuck ever!" he said, throwing his hands up in the air. "What are you, eighty? Stop spouting that crap every time I say something! It gets on my Goddamn nerves, woman!"

Orihime wasn't sure what to say, so instead she glanced down at her feet as her toes curled nervously. She heard Grimmjow snarl and curse in annoyance, which was quickly followed by the heavy resonation of his retreating footsteps. She winced as she heard the door slam shut and glanced up to see that he was no longer in the room.

Only then did she allow herself to smile a little bit, content that she could help Grimmjow forget his worries.

IV. Crowds

Living in Karakura Town, Orihime always had a love/hate relationship with crowds. Big ones that gathered together for things like concerts or even Don Kanonji's television show made her happy because it was about friendship and sharing a common interest. Others, like large crowds in tiny stores or the bustling clusters of people on busy streets, made her sad and a little annoyed because they were all about individual people needing to get this there now and not caring who got pushed or shoved in the process.

In Hueco Mundo, however, Orihime learned to really dislike them. Any crowd was usually chock full of arrogant, ambitious hollows, the majority of which gave her hateful or disgusting looks. The bunches of female Arrancar shot her dirty glances and gossiped about her, calling her "Aizen's pet" or "our pretty little princess". She occasionally tried to make friends with the women Arrancar who were off walking alone, but they were usually stoic and unreadable.

Groups of male Arrancar were even worse, as they would hoot and jeer as she walked past. It wasn't as if she hadn't received that treatment on occasion in the Living World, but here some would be so brash as to reach out try to touch her. Once she had even been backed into a corner by that one Espada, Noitora, with his voice dripping in her ear and his tongue not far behind. Grimmjow has showed up then, leaving a nice gash in Noitora's back and a mouthful of curse words in his memory.

After that Orihime decided that wherever she went, crowd or no, she would always bring Grimmjow along.

V. Weird

"What is it now?" Grimmjow snarled, knowing he was in for another guileless earful.

Orihime pouted despite herself, and glanced mournfully at the empty food cart near the door. "The food here is so weird."

"How the hell is it weird?" he asked. "You get better stuff than the shit I have to eat."

Orihime ignored his coarse language and continued, "Today it was takoyaki noodles and rice. That's such a weird combination!"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes from the chair he was seated in, placing his chin in his palm on the table and giving her an annoyed stare. "What's so weird about that?"

She shrugged. "Back in the real world, I cooked things like curry with potatoes and onions, or leeks and wasabi marinated with shrimp. Here it's always noodles or stuff like sushi rolls!"

Grimmjow stuck his tongue out, visibly disgusted. "How could you eat crap like that!"

"It's good!" Orihime implored. "I'll make it for you!"

He snorted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "No fucker with half a brain would let you near a kitchen."

Orihime pouted defiantly, looking both silly and determined. "Then when I get back to the real world, I'll make it for you in my own kitchen!"

Grimmjow snorted, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. "That's dangerous thinking."

"Getting back to the real world?" she wondered.

He smirked. "No, you cooking."

VI. Songs

"What's your favorite song?" Orihime asked on one of the rare nights he actually lay with her after sex.

Grimmjow's temple pulsed in annoyance and he kept his eyes tightly shut. "Just shut up and be happy I even bothered staying behind. I'm not into this cuddling crap."

"This isn't cuddling," she remarked and observed in the darkness his one hand behind his head and the other half-heartedly draped behind hers. "And it's a good question. I want to know."

"That doesn't mean I have to answer," he growled. "Keep this up and I'll leave."

"You'll be back," she said simply, and he could feel her smile as she rested her head against his chest.

He looked down at her, her auburn hair falling over him in waves, and glared. "What the fuck makes you think that?"

She shrugged, tracing a finger innocently over his abdomen and carefully avoiding the gaping hole there. "You just will."

"What kind of an answer is that!" he bellowed, lifting himself onto his elbows and leering down at her.

Sitting up slightly, she brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled at him. "Your kind of answer."

VII. Wars

Thinking of the upcoming war between the Arrancar and the shinigami, Orihime knew it wouldn't be anything like the wars she'd read about. Rather than the most important ones, like World War I or II, or even things like the Civil War, Orihime liked to read obscure wars found in the old books of her grandmother's attic when she was little. Of course they weren't real wars, with guns and bombs, but fantasy wars with pegasi and centaurs and great, powerful dragons. In those wars, everything was always black and white: the hero won and the villain lost.

Though she didn't like Aizen (so much so that it was the closest feeling to hate she'd ever known), she wasn't exactly sure whom she was rooting for. If Soul Society won, then the world would be safe and happy. If Aizen won, then everything would be plunged into darkness. And while she didn't want that to happen, she worried for the people she considered friends. What about Ulquiorra, who silently pined for freedom? Or what about Grimmjow, who blatantly and obstinately wanted everything on his own terms? But if he lived, would Ichigo die? Would Ishida, and Chad, and Rukia, and Tatsuki?

She knew, in the end, Soul Society's victory was essential. Still, as she thought of the havoc and disarray that would lay in the wake of the upcoming war, there was one outcome she couldn't see: Who would be her knight in shining armor?

VIII. Sunsets/Sunrises

It had been a few weeks since her voluntary incarceration, and Orihime felt her sanity wearing thin. Despite all the other variables, such as the constant threat of her friends' deaths or the eerie power that Aizen seeped into the very core of her being, what contributed most to Orihime's melancholy was the small bit of scenery visible just outside her barred window.

"What now?" asked Grimmjow one night, as he entered to see her sitting on the edge of the table, looking morosely up at the still moon.

"Why doesn't the sun ever come up?" she asked, her voice completely deadpan. "Where did it go?"

Shutting the door, Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair and had a curious feeling he'd have to coax her into bed that night. "Nowhere. It wasn't there in the first place."

"Why not?" her voice came again, this time slightly laced with a deep longing.

He sighed. "What do you want me to tell you? The sun and moon fought an epic fuckin' battle and the sun lost? I don't do that fairy tale crap. It ain't there 'cause it ain't there, all right?"

She still didn't look back at him, and instead said, "Do you think it's sad?"

Grimmjow groaned. "It doesn't fucking exist, woman!"

Slowly, she turned her head to glance at him, and he saw tears trickling down her cheeks. Normally it would have pissed him off, but the simple fact that the rest of her face was completely still and apathetic disturbed him. She spoke then, her tone a bare muttering of defeat, "So something can't be sad if it doesn't exist?"

He noticed then how thin her face had become, and made a mental note to tell that damn Ulquiorra to make sure she ate. "Jeeze, I didn't mean you should kill yourself." Reluctantly, he approached her and silenced any further questions by placing a hand on the back of her neck and opening her lips with his own. His tongue ran over hers as he roughly wiped her tears away with his thumb.

When he released her, she was looking down at her hands. Annoyed, he gripped her chin and tipped her head to look at him. "Fine, but you fucking owe me." She looked at him curiously and he said nothing more, instead plucking her easily off the table and cradling her in his arms.

He walked to the bed and sat down, leaned his back against the wall, and spent the rest of the night telling her some bullshit fairy tale until she fell asleep smiling.

IX. You and Me

"Do you think anyone knows about us?" Orihime asked one afternoon, straightening the covers of her bed for lack of anything better to do.

Grimmjow sat, as usual, on a chair near the corner of the room with one foot resting on the seat, leaning an elbow on his knee and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "What do you mean, 'us'?"

She looked up at him curiously, as if it were obvious. "I mean you and I."

His eyes narrowed and he scoffed. "Listen, woman, I don't know what you've got in that empty friggin' head of yours, but there ain't no 'you and I'.

Orihime sat on the edge of her bed, looking at him incredulously. "Then what is there?"

Rolling his eyes and running an exasperated hand over his face, he growled, "There's nothing, all right?"

She pouted indignantly, crossing her arms. "What do you mean, 'nothing'?"

Grimmjow got the strange feeling they were going around in circles, but ignored it. "I mean nothing. This?" He motioned to himself first, then her and the bed. "It's nothing."

"Well, I think it's something," she told him, arms still crossed and eyebrows knitted angrily.

Groaning, Grimmjow lamented under his breath, "This is just what I get for fucking a virgin." He stood up then and paced lightly, trying to think how to word it properly. He gave up within seconds, and instead went his usual route. "Listen, this is nothing special. This is barely even a 'this'!"

She stood too, approaching him with her eyes seeping silent annoyance. "Then what would you call this?"

"Fucking!" he bellowed, fists clenched. "What the hell do you think we're doing, making love? Screw that!"

"Well, I don't like that word!" she said, and he didn't know she even had it in her to object so passionately. "Think of a better name!"

"I'll call it what it is, damn it! What is your friggin' damage!" he was yelling now, and making rather emphatic and crude hand gestures.

"So it's an 'it' but not a 'this'?" she asked. "I think I get it now!"

Grimmjow was about to ask who the hell taught his woman to be sarcastic when he noticed her open her mouth. Too pissed off to be able to deal with anything else idiotic she might say, he quickly deviated her tongue from speech by occupying it with his own. Surprisingly, she quickly had her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He tipped his head just so as to deepen the kiss, but both were dismayed when they had to separate for air.

"That's what I call it," he said, nearly breathless but still quite frustrated. "Good enough?"

She looked up at him and smiled slightly, her lips swollen and a little bruised. "Works for me."

X. Done Away With

Sometimes when Orihime was taking a stroll through the labyrinthine complex of the citadel, she passed by a very pretty Arrancar. After seeing her for the first few times, she asked Ulquiorra what her name was. She learned that the woman who kept her hair in curly pigtails and had a hairpin-like hollow mask was named Cirucci Thunderwitch. Orihime thought the name suited her, as even it exuded an air of prettiness and a tinge of the "holier-than-thou" attitude Orihime sensed in the woman's stare.

Orihime observed that over her stay, Cirucci's attitude towards her changed. In the beginning, Cirucci would barely even look at her, and when she did it was a dismissive gaze that said "you aren't worth noticing". As time wore on, though, she could see Cirucci's stare began to linger, and as it did it gradually became penetrating, then domineering, then envious, and finally enraged.

One day Orihime asked why Cirucci seemed to hate her so much.

"Cirucci?" Grimmjow asked, glancing up a piece of melon bread he'd bought from the real world after Orihime told him to try it. "You mean the prissy ex-Espada twat?"

Orihime wasn't a very big fan of the wording, but nodded nonetheless. "She's always glaring at me in the halls, and lately it seems like she's purposefully there when I walk by."

He shrugged. "Bitch's probably jealous. Haven't fucked her in weeks."

Orihime's eyes widened and she felt some angry emotion in the pit of her stomach coating her sentiments of shock. "You used to…"

Quickly finishing off the melon bread, Grimmjow muttered a "not bad", before replying, "Yeah. Lolly's too Aizen obsessed, the Espada chick's got a giant poker up her ass, and screwing Menoly would be like screwing myself. Either way, that's over."

"I… see…" Orihime muttered, taking a seat opposite him and concentrating on her hands.

"Don't tell me you're jealous," he said, smirking. Brushing the crumbs off the table, he continued nonchalantly, "If you're worried I miss her or some crap, you can forget that. She's totally unresponsive and probably one of the worst I've ever had. I swear she's only interested in getting herself off."

Had she been paying attention, Orihime would have thought that that's what Grimmjow was interested in half the time. Rather, she was absorbed not in jealousy or worry, but in sympathy for Cirucci. Orihime hoped that one day, the pretty Arrancar would be able to recover from her anger and abandonment, and find someone who deserved her.

XI. Blind

"Hey," Grimmjow said, entering the room and closing the door behind him, "if that asshole Noitora ever tells you to do something, don't."

Orihime looked up from her book, confused. "Um, all right?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, taking a seat at the table and running a hand through his hair. "I swear that fucker's got serious issues. If you ever run into him the hall, walk the other way. He's got it out for you, and your stupid little fairies."

At that, Orihime saw a flash of light out of the corner of her eye, and not seconds later an inflamed Tsubaki was flying towards Grimmjow. "Who're calling a fairy, skull boy?"

Grimmjow waved Tsubaki away, eyebrow twitching annoyingly. "He's gonna ask you to heal is eye, heads up."

"Why the hell would we heal his eye?" Tsubaki interjected. "The guy's a total creep!"

"Was I talking to you?" Grimmjow yelled. "Get back in your hairpin, fairy!"

"I am not a fairy! I'm a spirit, and you'd better show some Goddamn respect!" Tsubaki shot back.

"Maybe I'd respect you a bit more if you weren't wearing tights and had little fairy wings, you fucking fairy!" Grimmjow was standing now, glaring ominously at Tsubaki who managed to look equally menacing despite his size.

"You wanna go?" he threatened. "I'll take you on right now!"

"Will you?" Grimmjow asked, pointing to Orihime. "You think she's gonna ask you to attack me? I'd kill you! In fact, I could do it right now! I've seen Peter Pan, I know the deal!"

"I AM NOT A FAIRY!" Tsubaki bellowed.

"I don't care!" Grimmjow glowered. "Just get out of my face!"

Tsubaki was clearly ready to gouge Grimmjow's eyes out, and so Orihime quickly spoke up, "Tsubaki! Please!"

"What about him?" Tsubaki said, motioning accusingly at Grimmjow. "You gonna let this dumbass off the hook?"

"No," Orihime told him, her voice firm and consoling, "but please don't start a fight."

Tsubaki glared at Grimmjow a second before huffing indignantly. "The next time I see you, I swear to God…" he muttered, and with that he flew back to Orihime and disappeared in another tiny flash of light.

"Go fuck Tinkerbell!" Grimmjow called after him a few seconds too late.

Orihime gave him an annoyed stare. "Thank you for the advice."

Grimmjow, far too irate to stay any longer, muttered a "No fuckin' problem," before opening the door and slamming it behind him.

XII. Undone

"What will you do?" Orihime asked. "If Aizen succeeds, I mean."

Grimmjow shrugged, lying back on her bed with his hands behind his head. "Don't know. I'll probably be made commander or some shit, not that I care."

"But if he defeats Soul Society, won't that just mean you'll be under his control forever?" she wondered, a finger placed pensively on her lip.

Grimmjow stopped staring at the ceiling to shut his eyes tightly in annoyance. "Look, I'll worry about it when it happens."

"That doesn't make much sense," she reasoned innocently. "Don't you want to be free?"

He sat up suddenly, giving her the most frank and furious glare she had ever seen. "Of course I do, you dumb twat! Do you have a plan or something, because I'm all ears!"

Orihime considered telling him about her plot to erase the Hougyoku from existence, but quickly thought better of it.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Grimmjow continued when he was met with her silence, "you're stuck here too! You gonna dig through the walls with a spoon?"

"No," she said, feeling slightly silly. "But you could do something. You're really strong."

Grimmjow snorted. "Yeah, but I'm shit out of luck. As long as Aizen's got his precious marble, I'm stuck here same as you. You've got more power than I do, dumbass."

As he leaned back onto the bed and closed his eyes again, Orihime was still stewing in the slight hint of envy and melancholy in his tone. Her resolve hardened then, knowing she had another person to save, and another reason to undo the existence of that horrible little orb.

XIII. Forgetfulness

Forgetting both Grimmjow and Ulquiorra's warnings to avoid the south wing, Orihime ventured there one morning before breakfast. Wandering down the many corridors, she was surprised by how deserted it was. Occasionally she would pass by one or two Arrancar, though they were all either clearly of low rank or very young. For the most part none of them noticed her, and she wondered what made this hall eerier than the others of the citadel.

Turning a corner, she arrived at a dead end. Glancing around for a moment, she shrugged and was about to turn and leave when she felt a hand run over her shoulder and up her neck. Thin lips grazed her ear ever so slightly, and whispered lecherously, "I've been waiting for you, pet-sama."

When Orihime spun around, she was greeted with the not all too unfamiliar sight of an Espada. This one was tall and lanky with sleek black hair, an eye patch and a single eye that narrowed with lust. His lips curled into a twisted grin as he tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. He let his fingers linger as his nails lightly raked down the side of her neck, resting for a few moments over her jugular and her collarbone before retreating.

"My name is Noitora," he told her, his voice sounding equal parts paternal and odious, a mixture that deeply disturbed her. "But you may call me master, if you wish."

Orihime felt a hot blush paint her cheeks and gulped nervously. Sweat began to build on her brow and hands, both from the spiritual pressure Noitora oozed and from the way he kept touching her. "N-nice to meet you," she managed to say, glancing back at the empty hall. "But I should be going now."

"So soon?" Noitora asked innocently, letting a bit more of his reiatsu leak out. It was just enough to hold Orihime in place as he circled her like a vulture, letting his hand drag around her waist. He faced her finally, fingers traveling lightly up her sides to just underneath her breasts, and slowly closed the little space between them. "Why don't you have breakfast with me?" Orihime looked down tremulously as she felt his lips lightly brush her earlobe as he whispered, "Just tell Ulquiorra you were 'eating out'."

Orihime contemplated screaming for help, but knew it was no use as it was enough of a struggle just to swallow. She tried to muster the strength to squirm when she felt his right hand snake around to the small of her back, slowly sliding lower and lower to the curve of her bottom, but she couldn't move a muscle. Again she tried to cry out, but didn't have the time to, for soon a loud gushing sound was heard and Noitora froze before cursing loudly.

Losing focus of his spiritual power, Noitora subconsciously regulated it and as a result Orihime slid to the floor. She saw the crimson that speckled her hakama and that dripped from the fresh wound in Noitora's abdomen as the lascivious Arrancar spun around.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he asked, hand poised over his zanpakuto.

"Get lost, Noitora," a familiar voice said. "Or Aizen will do you a hell of a lot worse for hurting her."

Noitora glanced back at Orihime and growled something nasty before stalking off, holding his bleeding abdomen and seething.

Her savior approached her and picked her up, hoisting her into his arms and giving her an irate stare. "Remember what I tell you next time, you dumb bitch."

Orihime, despite her situation and the sweat caking her body, smiled and leaned her head against Grimmjow's chest.