Angry at the World - Chapter 22 - Reaping
Title: Angry at the World
Pairing: Grimmjow x Ichigo
Rating: NC-17 as a whole
Description: Grimmjow is dead set on posessing Kurosaki Ichigo for more reasons than even he knows, no matter what the consequences. Despite his hate for the Espada, Ichigo can't help but feel connected by their mutual rage and fire.
*Ahem*
"They're baaaaack!"
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Chapter 22 - Reaping
Ichigo felt a bit nauseous. His hands throbbed. He also really didn’t want to see his father’s face.
“I can tell when you’re awake, especially when you’re hooked up to monitoring equipment,” Ishida said dryly. Ichigo eyes shot open. Nerdy, bespectacled and cranky-Uryuu really was back in front of him.
“You’re back! The fuck did you come here for?” He asked the Quincy in disbelief, and looked around conspiratorially for Isshin.
“He isn’t here. Urahara-san said he had a diversion planned so that you could leave.” Ishida gave Ichigo a studious glance. “But he never mentioned why you would have trouble leaving in the first place,” he said calmly and politely, dancing around the question. The redhead’s jaw clenched. “I suppose it has something to do with this,” the Quincy stated while reaching for the Vaizard’s bandaged hand. Ichigo pulled his hand away. Then he slipped out of bed.
“…I lost my temper,” Ichigo replied quietly. “Let’s go.” Ishida looked at him thoughtfully before speaking.
“Kurosaki--” He began.
“What?” Ichigo growled as he pulled on his coat. Nag-fucking-nag.
“Had you noticed this yet?” Ishida’s mouth drew into a thin line as he picked something up from the floor. A mask. The mask. Ichigo’s heart clamped down hard. Fuck the Vaizard. Control? What control? My life is more destructive than ever. “It seems not,” he murmured. Ichigo didn’t respond. “Don’t shut down just yet,” the Quincy jabbed.
“Fuck off, I’m fine!” he growled back at him.
“Fine?” Ishida asked with slightly raised brows.
“…I’m going to help Inoue. You coming, or are you too concerned about me?” Ichigo asked, and left without waiting for an answer.
~
“So,” Isshin said as he sipped at his tea. “You’re going to give me an explanation of your meddling in my son’s life.” Urahara politely removed his hat and set it on the table, looking shocked.
“Meddling! I have only ever had the boy’s best interests at heart--” Isshin’s sword tip suddenly brushed the bridge of Kisuke’s nose. “-Well, not always I admit, sometimes I let scientific curiosity carry me away…” The blonde murmured.
“As you do,” Isshin said shortly, and lowered his sword. “Grimmjow.”
“You can’t possibly blame me--”
“-For the Gigai, the clothes, the money? I most certainly do!”
“…” Kisuke’s gaze became shrewd. “You had the chance to undo all of that.”
“It was too late, and it’s still too late for killing him to be the solution. As you had hoped,” the older Kurosaki said darkly. Urahara sighed and sipped at his tea before answering.
“I had a feeling it wouldn’t be hard for Grimmjow-san to abandon Las Noches, and such an ally… To not use your son as the anchor would be a crime.”
“…”
“And there we arrive again, the meddling…”
“From Soul Society… From you, into my life, but to him…”
“Perhaps you can talk me into taking the blame for your lie some other time, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara said distantly. His hat was swiftly back on his head. “For now, I have other business, if you’ll be so kind…?” The blonde man asked magnanimously, gesturing towards the door.
“…Of course, but we’re not nearly done,” Isshin said grudgingly as he departed.
“No, no, we never are, are we Kurosaki-san?” Urahara asked with a glowing smile before slamming the door shut.
~
Grimmjow schooled his expression to a neutral sneer. Just drawing his sword had been an off-balance, wrong affair without his arm. Now that it was right… That wasn’t any reason to let them know how he felt about it. Yet he knew if he wasn’t thankful Aizen would disapprove, and he would let Grimmjow know. Without words, or as the Shinigami would say smoothly, in a language you understand.
The Espada watched his fresh hand clench into a fist; clench, unclench. Clench, unclench. It was the same that it ever was. Inoue stepped away, finished with healing him. What obnoxiousness was she wearing? The white gown completely covered her tits and her legs. What else could he look at, her face? That was muted, forlorn looking. Unusual for the stupid woman, and Grimmjow was angry for noticing. He was angry she was here, instead of being on earth, where he should have been too.
Where I should be? …Well, fuck, he’ll be all pissy ‘bout the chick missing, and he’ll blame it on me-Grimmjow’s face hardened. Fuck. He’s probably already-Fucking little shit, always gotta be so fucking judgemental-He was working himself into a mental rage before he realized that this was probably going to result in a fight. And since it wasn’t actually Grimmjow’s fault, well, good fight, better sex.
More things he wouldn’t be telling Aizen.
“Thanks, woman,” he muttered to Orihime and stood to face the master of the Espada. “So what’s the catch?” he asked acidly. A smile spread like silk across Sosuke’s face-an unctuous, promising smile. Not a good promise.
“There is no catch. You cannot serve the cause if you are not whole. Now… Miss Orihime,” he said with a nod, and turned toward the door. The girl got the hint, and walked out in front of him in silence. No catch my ass. He’s gonna want a “favor” outta this… Grimmjow let himself collapse back into his sofa chair. The one piece of furniture so comfortable that he hadn’t sharpened his claws or blunted his anger on it. He took a deep breath and sighed.
“Ah, Grimmjow, just one more thing…” Aizen called from the doorway. Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed. Couldn’t even wait to gloat. “There will be no more visiting Earth on social calls, do you understand?” The Sexte Espada’s sneer deepened. He didn’t like this fucking coy leader act.
“Social calls?” He growled, baiting. Son of a bitch. If he knows I was there, he knows why. Fuck. This won’t be the end of this mess.
“…Fraternization, as it were, is a punishable offense. As is,” he paused, “any offense. I suggest you cherish this particular pardon from justice,” the brown-haired man’s threat was delivered with a charismatic smirk. The smirk that won dead men’s hearts just made Grimmjow want to dig his fingers through Aizen’s skull like a bowling ball and rip his face off. The filthy Shinigami knew it too-and like an indulgent parent, let Grimmjow think about it all he wanted.
Grimmjow’s nails began to dig into the armrest of his beloved chair before Aizen had even left the room. The soft material split easily, it’s stuffing already bulging at the seams. It can’t stay this way. His muscles were coiling in rage while he tried to think of a solution instead of making one with violence. One lapdog or another is going to be watching me, maybe even two… The question is which fucker do I have to lose and how annoying is it gonna be. He sat back. This wasn’t bad. He was relaxed, he was thinking of a solution-far smoother than normal.
But what if I ain’t there so they can-they wouldn’t. They couldn’t.
…Tch…
His friends’ll be there. If they know what’s good for them they’ll protect him. But the woman was here, the healer. If the boy couldn’t kill the Espada some sap from Soul Society wasn’t gonna be able to save him. Then what would become of his prized possession- Dead. Dead, or worse.
Not so long ago he hadn’t thought there was anything worse than death. What does that make him to me?
Jealousy and fear suddenly lined his face. “ Goddammit!” He roared out, and hurled the cushy chair out his largest window. The glass shattered brilliantly. He listened to the piece of furniture fall and crack on every level of the fortress until even his ears could hear nothing. The silence hummed and stretched with nothing to break it.
The blue-haired man’s angry energy suddenly drained, and he slunk to his bed. I want him back. It ain’t been that long and I need him back.
I don’t need anybody. Why do I need red hair and problems and emotions? I don’t. I wouldn’t have needed a new arm in the first place if not for him, the son of a bitch. I don’t need some love starved, fucked up kid from the other side of a war to watch out for, fuck me over for bein’ a traitor… What was I thinking? Fuck, he just lost me that chair. I loved that fucking chair.
…
…I love that fucking boy...
~
Chapter 21 - With Cruel Speed
Chapter 20 - And So He Falls
Chapter 1 - Angry at the World
Chapter 2 - After
DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.