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If this had ever made its way to Hueco Mundo, Grimmjow would have been dead ages ago. Either from some elaborately constructed, apparently foolproof plan, or sheer outright embarrassment.
Whatever human had cooked up this genius creation in a lab clearly had no idea the danger they were putting the world in. Up there with splitting the atom, mortal hubris clearly knew no limits. One had to imagine, however, that the inventor who’d put two and two together and came up with “oh this is soft” had no idea the wicked power that lay in the synthetic polymer tufts in their hands.
It had been a perfect trap. A nondescript blue blanket, casually discarded by one of the Kurosaki brats. Grimmjow had arrived right on time through his descorrer, only to find that Kurosaki had been waylaid by one of his human friends and was running late. One of the sisters- Yuzu, if he cared to remember her name- had invited him inside regardless of his announced intentions to beat her brother into the ground. After a few months, she was used to it.
“He’ll be home soon, might as well get comfortable. I’ve got cookies coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”
He took a seat because he wanted to, not because she told him to, okay? And if Yuzu’s cookies were the only thing besides a good fight that filled the hollow-emptiness inside him, that was none of your business.
So he walked blindly into the trap, picking a couch cushion at random to claim. His biggest mistake.
He didn’t notice anything at first, lulled into a false sense of security by the inane chattering of the Kurosaki sister. As the minutes passed, however, he became vaguely aware of a low vibration. His first thought was earthquake, which was stupid. The picture frames weren’t rattling on the walls. Then a memory stirred, kicking up hueco mundo dust in his memory. Damp warmth, held close against the dry cold desert night. A handful of hollows, all missing something essential, finding some odd comfort in physical proximity despite its inherent threats. Bony fingers- Shawlong’s, before they removed their mask- carefully preening between armor plates, delicately smoothing black fur. A tremor of contentment, from deep in his chest, echoing through the rest of the group.
Purring. He was purring. What the fresh fuck? He hadn’t done that since he was adhuchas- and he wasn’t even in resurrección right now.
And that wasn’t all- movement in his periphery alerted him to the fact that his extremities were also in full rebellion. The blanket- oh hell, it was soft, softer than anything found in hueco mundo, and slippery like those synthetic fabrics some humans wore, and his traitorous hands were currently flexing and kneading and petting the damn stuff. And he couldn’t stop doing it.
Grimmjow had plenty of willpower. Tons of it! He held back from murdering any of the squishy humans Kurosaki was so attached to, which was impressive because some of them were really annoying. He barely even tried to fight Nelliel, even when she was bugging him for info about Ichigo!
He should have been perfectly capable of stopping his stupid fingers from working the fabric that they seemed damn near glued to. It was like he was an adhuchas again, the indignity of it all. A frustrated snarl built up in his throat but petered out as soon as it mixed with that godforsaken purring.
A quick glance around showed that none of the Kurosaki family was within eyesight, so there was nobody to witness this humiliation. And the blanket was really quite soft… if his instincts were running wild, nobody would have any idea. What was the harm, really? He’d just tear the blanket to shreds later, to prevent such a humiliation from happening ever again. Yes, that was it, he’d take their stupid blanket and make it his, it was all Grimmjow’s now! Maybe the sister would cry. Too late!
Grimmjow sank further into the couch, spine sagging as the stupid vibrations continued and his fingers plucked and pulled and buried themselves into soft blue faux fur. It was lulling him into a state of calm that was frankly terrifying and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care to try and escape it.
Until the front door opened and he heard the unmistakable grumpy greeting “I’m home!”
“Welcome home Nii-san! Grimmjow-san came by, he’s waiting for you in the living room!”
Grimmjow had about six seconds before Ichigo Kurosaki, his number one nemesis, caught him drooling over a stupid blanket. Shit. Time to panic. His hands were still doing whatever the hell they wanted- how was he going to hide this? His options were very limited. Think fast!
“Oh hey Grimmjow, I didn’t realize you’d head here instead of waiting at the Shoten-“ Ichigo appeared in the doorway right as Grimmjow settled into his new position, seated firmly on top of his traitorous hands. Hah! Can’t get caught if they can’t be seen.
“Any unnecessary second spent around Urahara dramatically increases my chances of getting experimented on, so pass. Why, afraid I’m gonna eat your sisters?”
“Please, Karin would punt you through the wall if you so much as looked at her the wrong way.” Ichigo rolled his eyes, then paused. “You… are you feeling okay?”
“Obviously, I’m here to fight you.”
“Well you look sorta stiff and you’re kinda red in the face- I didn’t even know arrancars had the kind of blood flow to flush like that.”
Shit. “I was just… stretching. Getting ready for the fight. Obviously.”
“Suuuure…” yeah, it was a given Ichigo probably wouldn’t buy that shit. “You hiding a gun or something?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I know you and Starrk didn’t interact much but I would hope he taught you trigger discipline. You’re gonna shoot your balls off if you’re not careful.” He knew damn well there was no gun involved. As if Grimmjow needed a gun to kill him…
Ichigo reached forward and grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked. “C’mon weirdo, let’s go fi-“ he trailed off as Grimmjow was sent off-balance by the blanket being tugged out from under him- and his traitorous hands were still holding tight to the fabric. “Dude. What. Let go of Yuzu’s blanket. You’re gonna put holes in it.” Grimmjow remained still as a statue- except for his hands, because of course the fuckers we’re still going. And he was purring. Again.
“Are you… making biscuits? Right now?”
“I will kill you, Kurosaki. You’re dead meat.” Grimmjow threatened, yanking the blanket back towards him. Ichigo let go, annoyed expression melting into one of pure wonder and amusement.
“Sure thing, kitty cat.”
Turns out, white-hot rage and the full-body desire to murder the man who caught him doing something utterly mortifying was the one and only thing that would get his stupid claws to close around Kurosaki’s throat instead of the blanket.
“Have fun!” Yuzu snagged her blanket from the tussle as the two of them rolled out the door, fists flying.
Still nursing his wounds two days later, Grimmjow was visited by Nelliel on the return from a supply run to the world of the living.
“Delivery for you!”
“Fuck off.”
“Gladly! But I promised I’d deliver this to you first, Grimmy!” He turned to take a swipe at her but was hit in the face instead by a bundle tied with ribbon. A note was stuck to the front.
Yuzu insisted.
A brand-new, butter soft blanket just like the one that had bewitched him. Damn the Kurosakis, damn them all to hell. Every last one of them.
And if Grimmjow spent the night in resurrección, curled up and “””making biscuits”””… well, anyone who saw certainly wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale.