Summary: A collection of one hundred themed drabbles. AU GrimmIchi.
Warnings: AU, yaoi, sexual content, polyamory, violence, naughty language, character death, substance abuse, etc., etc.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
It would be an insult to Ichigo Kurosaki's intelligence if one believed he didn't know he shouldn't have been there. It had only been drilled into his head ever since the day he began to comprehend the meaning of language and words. Nobility and commoners didn't mix. That was the rule, the law, their very way of life.
And yet he had no way of stopping himself from sneaking out of the manor in the early morning, before any servant wandered into his chambers to wake him and even before the first ray of dawn sunlight peeked out over the horizon, and making his way down to the stables. He was utterly powerless when it came to his strange, overwhelming fascination with the blue-haired stable hand, the one he'd never spoken to, or even made direct eye contact with.
Ichigo worried his bottom lip between his teeth, cinnamon amber eyes trained on where the shirtless form of said stable hand was chopping firewood for the upcoming winter months, those corded, brawny muscles contracting and bulging as the man swung the axe in his large hands up over his broad shoulder and brought it back down with such force it split the wooden log right in half. The orangette was completely lost as to why such an everyday action was so... erotic and sent shudders throughout his entire body, but he couldn't deny that it was and that it did.
Should it be discovered that he watched the blue-haired stable hand with lusty eyes and quickened breath it would only mean an imminent lockdown for him in the manor and an immediate dismissal for the other. He knew this and yet he could not stop. This man filled his every waking thought and then showed that beautiful face in his dreams.
He was obsessed.
A/N: This one contains mentions of mpreg. :)
On that lazy Sunday afternoon when Grimmjow had been called into the station on his one day off, he hadn't been a happy camper to say the least and needless to say he definitely hadn't been expecting for the chief of police, a one Kisuke Urahara, to summon him to his office as soon as he'd arrived. However, the real kicker was the assignment the Chief had for him.
"This," Urahara said, withdrawing an 8"x11" from a manila folder and placing it upon his desk face up so that Grimmjow could make out that the photograph was, instead of a mugshot or candid capture from security footage, what looked like a family photo of two girls, their father, and a young male of about twenty two or three years of age with achingly familiar sunset orange hair and beautiful brown eyes. "Is Ichigo Kurosaki, your ex-lover, correct?"
The glint in those gray eyes told Grimmjow that his boss already knew the answer.
"What the fuck is this, Urahara - an interrogation about all my past relationships?" the blunette spat, well on his way to being thoroughly pissed off.
"No, I'm afraid not,," Urahara said and the serious tone his voice and demeanor took on, so rare and out of place it immediately caught Grimmjow's attention. "Ichigo's in trouble, Grimmjow."
Crystal blue eyes widened almost imperceptibly before they narrowed and Grimmjow leaned forward in his seat, hands twitching with the urge to wrap themselves around Urahara's neck for even suggesting such a thing. "What kind of trouble?" he asked, mind running through all kinds of morbid shit that could have possibly happened to the man he still loved even though their relationship had explosively ended eight months prior.
"That's a fucking sick joke, Urahara," Grimmjow snarled, upper lips curling back to reveal a sharp canine.
"I wish it was a joke," Urahara said, sighing and opening the same manila folder, retrieving one more photo to lay upon the desk for the other to view, this time a mugshot of a well-groomed brunette with the ugliest little smile on his lips. "I'm sure you remember that last year Sosuke Aizen was cleared of all charges despite overwhelming evidence to prove his guilt, most of which was supplied by your undercover work in his 'company.'"
"Get to the point," Grimmjow said, growling under his breath at the sight of his most hated enemy.
"It seems Aizen hasn't forgotten his debt to you and decided to take it out on your Ichigo by kidnapping him and -"
"What!" Grimmjow was on his feet, hands slamming down on the Chief's desk, before he was even conscious of moving at all.
"Let me finish, Grimmjow," Urahara insisted. "Ichigo managed to escape, he's actually sitting in the conference room as we speak, but not unscathed."
As it turned out, Aizen had been experimenting with new, highly illegal medical technology and in an act of revenge used the orange-haired youth as a test subject and somehow he'd managed to... impregnate Ichigo, who was still undoubtedly a male. Grimmjow was shocked he made it through Urahara's explanation of events without throwing up at the images that his mind conjured of what his Ichigo had gone through - kidnapped and experimented on for seven whole months before escaping. And yet, when he'd finally gotten some much needed medical attention, he'd insisted on pain of death that he was keeping his baby.
And now Grimmjow had to, needed to, drive his former lover across the country to the only doctor in the world willing to deliver the first human child carried by someone of the male sex.
Ichigo and his child's chances were split into thirds, the odds that both he and his baby would survive the procedure a dismal thirty-three percent. But Grimmjow would be damned if he would fail his beloved orangette a second time and he would make sure the both of them would live, whatever it took.
A/N: Perhaps a oneshot someday? I do like this idea so much...
3. Making History
Ichigo sauntered up behind his hard-at-work lover, wrapping his arms around the blunette's strong, broad shoulders in order to make the man cease in his chiseling away at the large, circular stone.
"Grimm, come to bed already," he said into locks of powder blue hair.
"Ichi, I've still got work to do," Grimmjow sighed, desperately wishing that wasn't the case, especially when Ichigo whined in displease and rested his chin on the blue-haired man's shoulder, his mood unusually licentious. "I've only gotten up to December 21st, 2012."
"Oh, isn't that good enough?" Ichigo simpered, nuzzling into the other's neck and pressing his lips to the pulse point there. "Who knows, maybe I'll..." Ichigo's words dropped to a whisper, their raunchy content causing sapphire blue eyes to widen and a lascivious, pleased grin to appear on full lips.
Grimmjow never did finish that calendar, but he definitely never regretted it.
A/N: These are turning out to be really rather fun to write. I hope you all enjoyed!