Science Meets Feline Curiosity
Title: Smoke and Mirrors: Chapter One
Pairing: Akon x Grimmjow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I only steal its characters so I can go on perverted conquests via fan fics. Also, all characters involved in sexual situations are fictional and above the legal age of consent in the state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
A/N: Special thanks to figaro_figaro for being kind enough to read this (and suggest a few things) before I posted!
Edit: Looking at this three years later, I think I'm missing half of it. . . Wtf?! So I had to rewrite the missing half, and it's a little short, so I hope that it doesn't disappoint and that it isn't too different from what I initially wrote! (But I don't think it's that much different, and I'm pleased with the atmosphere, however brief it is. :D)
It's late at night when I enter the Twelfth's Research and Development Institute. It seems the others have already called it a day; the place is empty with the exception of myself. I'm glad because I wanted to see the thing one last time before getting some shut eye. And by myself, without the others around to bother me. Once the war was over, Kurotsuchi-taichou returned to Soul Society with a few interesting finds from Hueco Mundo. Among those interesting finds was a living Espada. I thought for sure that the captain-commander would've ordered the Arrancar killed, but he allowed Kurotsuchi-taichou to take it into custody. The fallen Espada was found half dead in the desert, or so I was told. I can imagine my captain's elation at getting his hands on a living, breathing Arrancar.
When the Gotei 13 returned to Soul Society, my captain's findings were immediately brought to the Twelfth Division. We're currently holding the former Esapda here in the Research Institute. We've put a collar around its throat to limit its reiatsu, and at the moment it's being confined to the laboratories. I haven't seen much of the thing in the past week since it's arrived (I've been busy with other research), but from what I have seen of it. . . it's a primal looking beast. Tall, nimble form, electric blue hair, scars covering the expanse of its toned torso. Not to mention the fragment of bone attached to its jaw -- the remnant of its Hollow mask -- and the ever-present, feral grin. I've seen first hand that it has a pretty mean disposition, too.
It piques my interests, and that's why I'm here tonight. I've never seen an Arrancar up close, let alone one of the Espada. To a scientist such as myself, it's fascinating to see a hollow creature that developed to be so. . .human-like.
From what I understand it used to be the Sexta Espada. There's even a gothic six tattooed on its lower back. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. The name itself is something primal, and no matter how you say it, it ends like a growl on your tongue. Everything about the former Espada makes me think of a wild cat prowling the jungle: from its name, to its strong, agile movements, to the way it snarls and snaps its teeth.
As I enter the room where Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is being held, I reach out to flick on the lights. Towards the back of the room a bright, white glow bursts into life. I see a shock of blue, the Arrancar suddenly alert, its head lifting. I feel the heat of predatory eyes on me, think that I may even hear a hoarse grunt. I remain silent as I close the door, and I leave the rest of the room's lighting dimmed low. The thing is being kept in a cell against the back of the room, behind a large pane of glass that stretches from floor to ceiling. There's a small cot in the corner where it can sleep, a toilet in the other corner, and nothing else. I imagine that when (and if) my captain is done studying the former Espada, it will be moved to a regular cell in a different division.
Walking closer to the cell, I reach up to retrieve the cigarette hanging between my lips. I hold it between long fingers as I exhale, a cloud of smoke billowing around my face. The Espada's eyes watch my every move, and I notice the slide of strong muscles as they draw tight. The thing is tense and alert, but at the same time I feel confidence wafting from it, scratching at the air. It doesn't look frightened at all. In fact, it looks excitable, like it's been waiting for something to come along this entire time.
The Arrancar stands up abruptly and stalks forward, its vibrant eyes never leaving me. It comes to halt in front of the glass, and its eyes turn to slits when I bring the cigarette back to my mouth. Large hands shoot up, fleshy palms gone white as they splay over the glass. I notice the tips of its fingers curl slightly, and it looks as if it wants to paw at the barrier keeping us apart; like a kitten pawing at its scratch post.
"What the fuck is that?"
Its voice is a deep, gravelly rumble. I'm surprised that its spoken and that it sounds the way it does, but I just narrow my eyes slightly as I observe it closely.
"It's a cigarette."
"Cigarette?"
"One of the more acceptable addictions. It contains a poisonous alkaloid otherwise known as nicotine. The tobacco is packed in paper, rolled, and then smoked."
The thing's comically short eyebrows scrunch, confusion clear in its alert gaze. My own hairless brow gives a twitch, and my cheeks hollow as I inhale deeply. I hold it in my lungs for a moment, and then I slowly exhale, letting my lips part so the smoke is expelled from my mouth as well as my nose. The Arrancar watches me intently, its eyes trained unblinkingly on my face. But those eyes start to wander as the plume drifts upward, cobalt blue trailing opaque gray towards the ceiling. It presses even closer to the glass as it watches, and I notice that its nostrils flare as if it's trying to sniff.
I chuckle quietly and its eyes dart back to me. "Smoke," I reiterate in a murmur, bringing my cigarette back to my mouth. "I know you must have seen smoke on the battlefield, but apparently you haven't seen it like this?"
The Arrancar's eyes narrow to slits and it bares its teeth threateningly, a growl rumbling in its throat. Clearly captivity hasn't tamed it in the slightest, and I narrow my own eyes in response.
But when the thing suddenly grins (menacingly, and with eyes glinting like pointed daggers), I find myself thankful for the cigarette that's still pinched between my lips, and the cloud of smoke that escapes my nose. They hide my pleasantly surprised expression, brought on by the former Espada's sharply fluctuating behavior, which is confirmation that it really is as interesting as I initially thought.
Chapter Two →
Pairing: Akon x Grimmjow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I only steal its characters so I can go on perverted conquests via fan fics. Also, all characters involved in sexual situations are fictional and above the legal age of consent in the state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
A/N: Special thanks to figaro_figaro for being kind enough to read this (and suggest a few things) before I posted!
Edit: Looking at this three years later, I think I'm missing half of it. . . Wtf?! So I had to rewrite the missing half, and it's a little short, so I hope that it doesn't disappoint and that it isn't too different from what I initially wrote! (But I don't think it's that much different, and I'm pleased with the atmosphere, however brief it is. :D)
It's late at night when I enter the Twelfth's Research and Development Institute. It seems the others have already called it a day; the place is empty with the exception of myself. I'm glad because I wanted to see the thing one last time before getting some shut eye. And by myself, without the others around to bother me. Once the war was over, Kurotsuchi-taichou returned to Soul Society with a few interesting finds from Hueco Mundo. Among those interesting finds was a living Espada. I thought for sure that the captain-commander would've ordered the Arrancar killed, but he allowed Kurotsuchi-taichou to take it into custody. The fallen Espada was found half dead in the desert, or so I was told. I can imagine my captain's elation at getting his hands on a living, breathing Arrancar.
When the Gotei 13 returned to Soul Society, my captain's findings were immediately brought to the Twelfth Division. We're currently holding the former Esapda here in the Research Institute. We've put a collar around its throat to limit its reiatsu, and at the moment it's being confined to the laboratories. I haven't seen much of the thing in the past week since it's arrived (I've been busy with other research), but from what I have seen of it. . . it's a primal looking beast. Tall, nimble form, electric blue hair, scars covering the expanse of its toned torso. Not to mention the fragment of bone attached to its jaw -- the remnant of its Hollow mask -- and the ever-present, feral grin. I've seen first hand that it has a pretty mean disposition, too.
It piques my interests, and that's why I'm here tonight. I've never seen an Arrancar up close, let alone one of the Espada. To a scientist such as myself, it's fascinating to see a hollow creature that developed to be so. . .human-like.
From what I understand it used to be the Sexta Espada. There's even a gothic six tattooed on its lower back. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. The name itself is something primal, and no matter how you say it, it ends like a growl on your tongue. Everything about the former Espada makes me think of a wild cat prowling the jungle: from its name, to its strong, agile movements, to the way it snarls and snaps its teeth.
As I enter the room where Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is being held, I reach out to flick on the lights. Towards the back of the room a bright, white glow bursts into life. I see a shock of blue, the Arrancar suddenly alert, its head lifting. I feel the heat of predatory eyes on me, think that I may even hear a hoarse grunt. I remain silent as I close the door, and I leave the rest of the room's lighting dimmed low. The thing is being kept in a cell against the back of the room, behind a large pane of glass that stretches from floor to ceiling. There's a small cot in the corner where it can sleep, a toilet in the other corner, and nothing else. I imagine that when (and if) my captain is done studying the former Espada, it will be moved to a regular cell in a different division.
Walking closer to the cell, I reach up to retrieve the cigarette hanging between my lips. I hold it between long fingers as I exhale, a cloud of smoke billowing around my face. The Espada's eyes watch my every move, and I notice the slide of strong muscles as they draw tight. The thing is tense and alert, but at the same time I feel confidence wafting from it, scratching at the air. It doesn't look frightened at all. In fact, it looks excitable, like it's been waiting for something to come along this entire time.
The Arrancar stands up abruptly and stalks forward, its vibrant eyes never leaving me. It comes to halt in front of the glass, and its eyes turn to slits when I bring the cigarette back to my mouth. Large hands shoot up, fleshy palms gone white as they splay over the glass. I notice the tips of its fingers curl slightly, and it looks as if it wants to paw at the barrier keeping us apart; like a kitten pawing at its scratch post.
"What the fuck is that?"
Its voice is a deep, gravelly rumble. I'm surprised that its spoken and that it sounds the way it does, but I just narrow my eyes slightly as I observe it closely.
"It's a cigarette."
"Cigarette?"
"One of the more acceptable addictions. It contains a poisonous alkaloid otherwise known as nicotine. The tobacco is packed in paper, rolled, and then smoked."
The thing's comically short eyebrows scrunch, confusion clear in its alert gaze. My own hairless brow gives a twitch, and my cheeks hollow as I inhale deeply. I hold it in my lungs for a moment, and then I slowly exhale, letting my lips part so the smoke is expelled from my mouth as well as my nose. The Arrancar watches me intently, its eyes trained unblinkingly on my face. But those eyes start to wander as the plume drifts upward, cobalt blue trailing opaque gray towards the ceiling. It presses even closer to the glass as it watches, and I notice that its nostrils flare as if it's trying to sniff.
I chuckle quietly and its eyes dart back to me. "Smoke," I reiterate in a murmur, bringing my cigarette back to my mouth. "I know you must have seen smoke on the battlefield, but apparently you haven't seen it like this?"
The Arrancar's eyes narrow to slits and it bares its teeth threateningly, a growl rumbling in its throat. Clearly captivity hasn't tamed it in the slightest, and I narrow my own eyes in response.
But when the thing suddenly grins (menacingly, and with eyes glinting like pointed daggers), I find myself thankful for the cigarette that's still pinched between my lips, and the cloud of smoke that escapes my nose. They hide my pleasantly surprised expression, brought on by the former Espada's sharply fluctuating behavior, which is confirmation that it really is as interesting as I initially thought.
Chapter Two →