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Pretty Papa

Chapter Text

Orihime Kurosaki was a beautiful 16 year old girl. Her long strawberry blonde hair floated around her sensual figure which was enhanced by the ripeness of her well developed chest. Her grey eyes lightened with her moods and she often had a smile for her classmates. She was also well liked, having many friends that liked to visit her at home and partake of her unique way of cooking as well as playing games and doing homework. Unsurprising, considering her stunning looks, a lot of her personal visitors were male, ranging from younger teens that she tutored to slightly older ones from the various clubs she was a member of.

It was those older teens that her father disliked the most, horny teenage boys that were only coming round to taint his beautiful flower, but he had various schemes that he used at different times to dissuade even the most persistent of her swains.

There was one boy, from Orihime’s athletic club that seemed resistant to his ploys and the father always worried when he came round for a visit. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was annoyingly tall, annoyingly broad and very annoyingly handsome. It made it hard for the poor father to intimidate the eighteen year old when the boy was taller than him. His blue eyes sparkled when he laughed and his white teeth shone often as he spent time with the innocent girl, often alone in her bedroom.

The father in question needs a better introduction however and a bit of patience because although he is over protective and a bit sadistic to his daughter’s friends, he is doing it purely out of love and his want for the light of his life to avoid any horrific situations. He himself had suffered exactly what he was trying to prevent now because you wouldn’t think this man was the father of a sixteen year old when he looks more like her older brother.

Ichigo Kurosaki knew others found him attractive but he didn’t realise the extent of their fascinations. The man stood to a modest five foot and nine inches at thirty three years of age, slender but firmly muscled under his clothes. His hair was similar to his daughter’s in colour but was fireier, the sun bleaching streaks into it so that when he moved, a halo of flames moved around his head. Most of his height seemed to be taken up by his obscenely long legs that he had shaped through years of training in martial arts. His brown eyes were dark when he was annoyed, at times looking almost black with hints of gold but when he spoke to his daughter they lightened into molten caramel. His usual expression was a scowl which sat almost permanently between his dark orange eyebrows.

He worked from home, their modest three bedroom semi detached house being big enough for them to live and for him to have an office in the spare room. He often worked with a glass pressed to the connecting wall into his daughter’s bedroom, and if it wasn’t for the fact he trusted his daughter and respected her privacy, he’d have drilled a hole through as well. His job was currently depressing him, the project he was working on had been fighting him every step of the way. He’d always loved writing at school and had gone into copy writing as a youth before getting his manuscript published at twenty six. He had four best sellers published and was working on the fifth in the series but he had lost a bit of his sparkle when a new writer appeared on the scene and all the reviewers could talk about was the latest Grimmshaw novel, not the new Shirosaki one.

His decision to publish under a pseudonym was an easy one; he didn’t want to disrupt his child’s education by being easily recognised as a published author after seeing what JK Rowling had to deal with once Harry Potter took off. Not that he’d compare their success, even as an arrogant young man he never expected his work to really take off, just be enough to live off and support his child.

Orihime had been an unexpected blessing at a young age, the mother not wanting anything to do with the baby once she’s had it. Ichigo had loved his difficult little girlfriend at the time, that’s the only reason he’d slept with her but once she fell pregnant, she changed, she had no time for Ichigo and even went to far as to threaten to abort the baby if he didn’t agree to take full responsibility for it once it was born. Rukia Kuchiki had been raised by her older brother and was expected to do well in life, not be saddled with an illegitimate child at sixteen. So Ichigo had taken the little scrap of humanity home from the hospital and raised her with the help of his father and younger sisters. He’d got his own place after three years as a copy writer had allowed him to save up enough for a deposit but the girl stayed at her grandpa’s or aunts on occasion due to their strong bond in her early years.

It was a typical Tuesday; Ichigo was working in his fairly spacious study at his black glass desk, sitting on his rolling leather chair. It had been a bit of an indulgence but he did spend most of his day in it, and a lot of his nights so he had treated himself. His workstation consisted of his desk, complete with a set of locking drawers on his left hand side, a desk top computer with a large hard drive and tinted screen as well as an ergonomic keyboard to reduce the strain on his wrists. He also had a laptop on the shelf of he felt the urge to work elsewhere. He had realised the need to more a few years ago when sitting in the house all day everyday occasionally stunted his imagination. The rest of the shelf above his head held his journals and notebooks, each chronologically dated so he could find his notes when he needed them. Various other bits and pieces of stationary floated around the desk from where he’d left it, or Orihime had placed it when finding it around the house. She was very helpful around the house, doing her chores without prompting and usually there were several pairs of hands offering to help her dry the dishes as Ichigo washed them. The sharp knives in the soapy water were all too tempting at those times then the boys would jostle him trying to get in next to the girl.

Orihime always stopped in the office after school and that Tuesday was no different, the girl giving her father a peck on the cheek as she through her arms around his throat.

“Hello Papa. Did you have a good day?”

Ichigo turned in his chair, giving his daughter a proper embrace as he stood up. He looked down at her, her large eyes full of love for him as she circled his waist with her arms. He stroked her log hair and looked up to the doorway, frowning at the three boys in the hall. “Yes love, my day was good. How was school?”

She pressed her cheek on her father’s chest, his hand still on her head. “It was good Papa; I nearly beat Grimmjow on the two hundred meters at practice this afternoon. I have to help him with his science report since I lost.”

Ichigo’s frown deepened. “Why can’t he do his report on his own, he is the year above you, why does he need you to help him?” He was loud enough for the boy to hear, one blue eyebrow lifting in response.

“No Papa, I’m not doing it for him. It’s a presentation board and I’m helping him with the graphics and lettering, that’s all. He’s done all the work. Besides I took the bet thinking I could beat him so he’d help me with my English report.”

Ichigo didn’t calm down even with his daughter’s reassurances, his face taking on an alarming shade of red. “Why do you need some boy to help you with your homework when I am more than capable? He is taking advantage of your kind nature.”

Orihime just shook her head, smiling at her over protective father. “I didn’t want to bother you Papa, it’s poetry and I know you’ve always hated that. Grimmjow said he’d talk me through it while we were working on his project anyway, he did it last year. Bye Papa.” The girl disengaged from her father and waved as she left the room, closing the door. The smirking face on the blue haired teen in the hall did nothing to calm him either.

Ichigo was seething, three boys in his daughter’s bedroom, only one of which had a tenuous reason to be there, his precious little flower was going to get, deflowered!!

He made his way down to the kitchen, pulling out packets and boiling some milk on the stove, smirking over the pan as his eyes darkened with his deviousness. Into the milk he melted the laxative, hiding the flavour with rich chocolate powder, thickening the mixture until it was glossy and he poured it into the three mugs he had prepared. He poured a serving from a smaller pan into a pink mug, smothering it with mini marshmallows before scattering three onto each other mug. He placed the mugs onto a green tea tray and pulled a silver plate out, putting a few biscuits out as well. He might be poisoning his daughter’s guests, but he had to at least appear to be a gracious host.

He took his time going up the stairs, not wanting to spill the drinks and he placed his slippered feet securely on each step as he ascended. The wall at his side was decorated with images of his precious baby as she grew, many of them showing his face holding her, then playing with her and his face clearly hadn’t changed at all since his teens, no lines around his eyes or grey hairs on his head to betray his true age. People who knew him could see the maturity in his bones, his jaw more defined and his cheekbones standing out better but that could be because he’d had a baby face until he was thirteen.

He knocked gently at his daughter’s door, holding the tray underneath with one hand as he pushed the door open, smiling widely. “Who wants hot chocolate?” The month was October and the weather had just started to change so two of the boys jumped at the chance to heat up their hands after the walk home, grabbing at two of the green mugs on the tray. Grimmjow, who was closest lifted the pink mug and held the handle out for Orihime to grasp, the girl accepting it after capping the gold marker she’d been outlining the title in. Ichigo could see his daughter’s work in the bold writing and in a few of the graphics for the board on the medical uses for radiation, her comic skeleton in the x ray machine making him think of her early drawings as a young child and her sketch of a human heart was detailed and fairly accurate showing how she’d improved.

“Thank you Papa.” The girl took a sip out of her mug, smiling as she swallowed the viscous drink. She had a thick chocolate moustache on her top lip as she savoured the drink and Grimmjow sniggered, lifting a hand to wipe it away with his thumb. He sucked the residue off his thumb and wiped it on his jeans to clean it. He went back to flicking in his text book, stopping at a page to copy something on to a quote card.

“Do you not want a hot chocolate Grimmjow?” Ichigo was frowning at the thought that the boy wouldn’t get caught in his trap.

“No thank you Mr Kurosaki, I’ve got a ton of work to do.” The boy looked up at him, Ichigo losing himself for a moment in the deep blue eyes. He looked back down again, going back to his copying to ensure his best handwriting.

“I’ll take it if he doesn’t want it!!!” Keigo Asuano snatched the mug off the tray, upsetting it and making Ichigo nearly drop it with the suddenness. Ichigo’s frown deepened, his eyes flashing gold and he couldn’t bring himself to care about the fact that the boy would be getting a double dose. The brown haired boy was loud and brash and someone Ichigo could do without being around his home. He decided to head to his study and just keep an ear out for the potion doing its job.

He managed to get to the end of the chapter he’d been working on before the first cry was heard from next door. He jumped out of his seat and bolted to the door, pulling it open in time to see Keigo bolt down the stairs, holding his bag to his backside as he ran out of the house, calling apologies to Orihime and himself as the door banged shut. Renji Abarai was leaving much slower, clutching at his stomach as he gave his apologies much quieter, casting a look to Ichigo as he stood in the door to his study, watching him leave.

“Oh I hope they feel better.” Orihime was standing over the balustrade, leaning as she watched her friends leave.

“I’m sure they’ll recover. Shall we finish? We need to take a look at that poem as well.”

“Yes, we shall conquer the meaning of the verses before dinner.” The girl dropped her closed fist onto her open palm. As they disappeared back into her room Grimmjow paused at the door, looking over at the man in the next door way.

“As I said, I have too much work to do for that.” He just smirked at the man and closed the door. Music piped up not long after that, foiling any plans of Ichigo’s to listen in to the pair in the next room.


Ichigo sat the next week, waiting for the door to open to signal his daughter home that day, knowing this time that the boy who’d been plaguing his house was coming over again. For two years Ichigo had been trying to get Grimmjow to leave, to get out of his daughter life but she was so sweet and pretty that he just kept coming round. Orihime claimed he was her best friend; the eighteen month age difference didn’t matter to either of them. Grimmjow was good for her in some ways; he put school work before play, escorted her home after track meets and nights out and was always polite and courteous to her and her father but clearly all that was just a ploy to make them comfortable around him so he could defile the innocent girl.

Ichigo knew this, but short of actually hurting the boy he couldn’t think of any way of getting him out of their lives. He’d been sixteen when he’d started coming around and now at eighteen he was just more handsome and his half smile could make people melt. Not Ichigo, definitely not no matter how his legs went when the boy thanked him for the meal or bid him good night.

The door banged open and in poured five teenagers, three female and two male and they all pounded up the stairs, Ichigo wincing at each stomp; bang goes his attempt to work anymore today.

“Hello Papa, how was your day?”

Ichigo turned in his seat in time to see his daughter crossing the room for her usual embrace and he held her, pressing a kiss to her soft hair. Looking at his guests he saw the usual Grimmjow in the back, his blue eyes piercing through even from the distance. Beside him was the red haired lout Renji Abarai, equally handsome but thankfully completely gullible and easy to scare off. The girls were Orihime’s best friend Tatsuki who rarely came round to the house now and a girl Ichigo didn’t know well, Chiziro, a red haired girl with glasses that was watching Orihime with scarily intense eyes.

Ichigo released his daughter and stood, frowning at the girl as he saw her eyes following his baby’s ass as she looked at his computer screen, one leg kicked up behind her as she leaned on the desk. He glanced up to see he wasn’t the only one glaring at the girl, Grimmjow was also not happy to be in her company.

“Oh Papa, that seems so exciting, can you talk about it at dinner?”

“That depends on who is staying my love. I can’t go telling my new story to everyone.”

“Oh it’ll just be Grimmjow; the others will be going home. Grimmjow’s dad is away this week so I said he could eat here if he likes, otherwise he’ll be on ramen for the week.” Orihime’s vehemence at that thought made it clear he wasn’t allowed to argue. 

“Well then maybe I can tell you what is happening, if Grimmjow can keep a secret.”

Orihime squealed slightly before pecking her father on the cheek and dashing out, grabbing Tatsuki’s arm on the way, the other girl gripping hers. Renji followed the girls but Grimmjow hesitated at the door, nodding slightly in greeting before walking away.


“So then the man goes back to his house only his key doesn’t work and it isn’t his car in the drive.”

“Oh Papa that sounds so exciting, I can’t wait to hear the next part. What do you think Grimmjow?” Orihime stuffed her face with her meal as she waited for her friend to talk. The girl may have a slim figure but she could certainly pack away the food.

Her father was eating with more reservation, gently taking small mouthfuls to enjoy his food and not eat too much, he may look like a seventeen year old but his metabolism certainly wasn’t the same as then. He looked over at the boy, waiting for his answer and glad to see the boy had table manners and was emptying his mouth, taking a quick drink, before he answered.

“I think it sounds great and I can’t wait to read it sir.”

“Have you read my other ones Grimmjow?”

“Yes sir, Orihime loaned me your first a year ago and I’ve read the rest since then. I really like your series and I’ll be buying a copy of your new one when it is released.” Grimmjow was looking directly ad Ichigo, a small smile on his lips as his cerulean eyes smouldered.

Ichigo swallowed before he spoke a light blush on his face at the praise, he ducked his head for a moment, the orange spikes covering his face. “Thank you. I’ll get you a copy before it’s released if you like.”

“Would you sign it for me?”

Ichigo snapped his face up, looking at the boy with surprise on his face as his blush intensified. He couldn’t believe a boy his age would want a signed copy of a murder mystery his friend’s dad wrote. “If you would like that, of course.”

The rest of the meal was eaten in comfortable silence, Orihime clearing the dishes for the males on the table. Ichigo went to stand to help her but she pushed him down, saying she was more than capable of handling three plates and one pot. Ichigo glanced up at the boy sitting across from him, watching him go to stand until he also got the order to stay. Ichigo looked up, seeing the boy staring at him.

“Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what sir?”

“So intensely, I have never been able to figure out of it is distrust or dislike.” Ichigo steepled his fingers, settling his chin on them and looking at the boy.

“I assure you it is neither. It is interest, I find you interesting.” Grimmjow mirrored his pose, dipping his face down slightly to look up at Ichigo.

Ichigo tilted his head, looking adorable. “Interesting how?”

“Like I want to get you know you better.” Grimmjow stood up and held his hand out to the man opposite him, Ichigo accepting it without thinking and allowing himself to be pulled up. Grimmjow led him round the table by the hand and dropped the fingers before guiding the man out of the dining room with an arm at the small of his back. Grimmjow closed the door as they entered the lounge, the room they’d left standing between them and the girl in the kitchen. Ichigo turned to see Grimmjow standing very close. He took a step back in shock, stopping abruptly as his back hit the wall. Grimmjow came up in front of him, an amused smirk on his face and his eyes sparkling. He raised one hand and traced it down the side of Ichigo’s jaw.

“What are you doing?” Ichigo mentally cursed at the whisperyness of his voice, pressing the palms of his hands on the wall behind him as he shrank in on himself.

“Getting to know you better.” Grimmjow raised the man’s chin slightly, not releasing it and he pressed their lips together. Ichigo whimpered quietly as the smooth lips touched his, their temperature hotter than his and their confidence stealing his breath away. The kiss lasted longer than a closed mouth one should and Ichigo was left gasping as Grimmjow pulled away, his smirk even wider.

The next kiss between them was more urgent, Ichigo pulling the boy back to him by the sides of his shirt, initiating the next kiss and opening his mouth at the insistence of the wet tongue from the other boy. Grimmjow pressed him into the wall, his two hands holding his face as the tongue explored his mouth. Ichigo enthusiastically met it with his own, moaning slightly as the rough textures swept over each other and their tastes mingled. It was when Grimmjow’s hands started to wander that Ichigo put a stop to it, his ancient history coming back and reminding him why he’d been a single parent for this long, why he shied away from physical intimacy. He pushed back at the boy, feeling the other take control again as if he’d just been playing. He shoved this time, breaking his head away as well.

“No Grimmjow, I want you to stop.” Ichigo kept his face turned, trying to hide his rapidly filling eyes from the boy. It wasn’t Grimmjow’s fault someone had tried to force him twelve years ago, or that it had been the first guy he’d had a glimmer of interest in, turning him from relations with men completely.

Grimmjow stopped trying to kiss him when he asked, not letting him go as he tried to pull himself together. “I know you want me; I’ve seen the way you look at me and the way you just kissed me. Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t be together.”

“How about the fact that I said no? Or that you gave me a fright and I didn’t like it. Or there is always the fact that I am over ten years older than you but I think the best is that you are my daughter’s best friend.” Ichigo took a breath, getting his emotions under control until he knew he wasn’t going to cry, even if his eyes would still be glassy. He turned to the boy, seeing the want in his eyes, but no trace of unbridled lust he remembered from the dark blue eyes of his attacker. “I decided long ago that I wouldn’t fall for anyone again, that I would love only my daughter and my work. I have one other love in my life but that one is secret. I can’t have you too.”

“You said you can’t have me, not that you didn’t want me. And I don’t give a shit about the age difference and I know Hime would be happy if we were happy.”

“I thought you were in love with her, that you were after her like every other hormonal teenager that comes to this house!” Ichigo raised his voice, throwing his arms about a bit. Grimmjow caught them pulling their faces close again.

“All those boys are coming round to try and get a glimpse of you. Every one of them that has come in her in the last two years have been lusting over you, and have been too thick to not see all the traps you lay out for them. I am not stupid, nor am I just lusting after you.” Grimmjow leaned even closer, his chest pressing onto Ichigo’s. “Tell me your secret, who is it you love? A woman?”

“I haven’t loved a woman since Orihime’s mother. I don’t even know if this person is a man or a woman.” Ichigo knew he’d said too much, the secret he didn’t even really admit to himself was threatening to come out. The mere thought of his crush on this person was absurd and he hated them thirty percent of the time as well.

“Oh, so it’s not someone you know? Any more clues for me? You see if I can find out what it is you love about them I can start making you forget about them.” Grimmjow parted Ichigo’s legs with one of his own, pressing his knee onto the wall. He laid his hands on the narrow hips, Ichigo’s hands resting on his upper arms.

“They inspire me, and frustrate me at the same time. They’ve stolen my popularity but the way they write is so stimulating it’s like melted chocolate.”

Grimmjow straightened in surprise. “Are you talking about J. Grimmshaw the author that knocked your last book off the chart number one?”

Ichigo dropped his face in shame, nodding slowly as his fingers clenched in Grimmjow’s t-shirt. The boy held him closer. He nuzzled his straight nose under Ichigo’s jaw bone, pressing a kiss under his ear lobe.

“And I think you’re better.” Grimmjow released the man in his arms gently, leaving him leaning against the wall in shock, his smirk falling back into place at the sight. He left the room with just a glance over his shoulder and it took Ichigo several minutes to regain the ability to move, his mind lacking the necessary blood to work efficiently with most of the liquid in his groin. The boy had smelled amazing and his strength was incredible, holding Ichigo so securely. Ichigo closed his eyes as he remained in place, imagining the boy pinning him to the wall, he’d hold the older man there without a problem. Ichigo’s long legs would easily wrap around his trim waist and the thought of what would be touching made more blood rush south.

Ichigo gave himself a shake; he was acting like the hormonal boys he hated in his house. The insinuation that the boys were here to drool over him was absurd, his beautiful daughter much more deserving of their admiration. He did want the younger man, he’d been denying himself for a year now as the boy matured but he meant what he’d said earlier, a crush on an unknown was acceptable; a real person would distract him from his work and his daughter.

Later that night he sat at his computer, staring at the scene he’d written earlier that day but getting no further with it. A light knocking at his door made him turn, his daughter standing with a man at her back.

“Papa, Mr Urahara is here to see you.” The girl left the door open, giving the blond man a smile before disappearing off to her room.

Ichigo gave a rueful smile to his editor; the long relationship the two had left little formality between them. “Hey Kisuke, you alright?”

“I’m fine, got two writers being an absolute pain in my ass about their deadlines but that is nothing new.” Something to note about Kisuke Urahara, the man was editor to not only I Shirosaki, but J Grimmshaw as well and kept his clients secrets well.

“So Grimmshaw finally getting writer’s block as well eh? Good, it’s about bloody time. He’s been churning out books much faster than me; he must be working from a back log.”

“Nope, this is his notebook he left at the office earlier in the week, he keeps similar logs like you and his ideas come to him and he writes the book, it’s like he’s writing about real life sometimes and it plays out to him. He’s lost the will to write at the moment, it’s like his muse has gone missing. What is your excuse for missing your deadline last week?”

Ichigo didn’t have a good excuse and his mind was stuck on the boy who’d kissed him a couple of hours ago. He kept drifting his eyes over the notebook in Kisuke’s hands, itching to take a peek inside. The blond caught his looks and held the book out, tilting his head as he encouraged him.

“Go on, I know you wouldn’t mind a fan looking at your notes after a book had been completed. Plus it’s not like you have similar styles even if it is the same genre.”

Ichigo flicked through the script writing, seeing the novel he’d finished last month in its early stages.  The author had an erratic planning sequence, betraying their youth, they were clearly younger than Ichigo which made him feel even worse and they had taken a while to plan out the book but as the novel had been a success he guessed he couldn’t pick too many errors out. If he ever met the person he might give them a few hints to help them out in their planning stages, maybe if he was in a good mood.

Kisuke left after getting a promise of the work being submitted within the next day or so and Ichigo bent over the keyboard for the next two hours intensively, getting more done in that time than he’d done in the last two days. Just as he was shutting down for the night Orihime came in to say goodnight, looking like an angel in her white nightgown.

“Papa, Grimmjow left his physics notebook here, he’ll need it tomorrow first thing. I need to take it to him.”

“You will do no such thing; can you not give it to him first thing in the morning before class?”

“I don’t think so, I never see him until lunch time. Please Papa, I won’t be long.”

“Are you sure he needs it desperately?”

“Yes Papa and it’s my fault he left it.”

Ichigo could just imagine all the rapists and muggers that would love a young girl to be walking alone at night. “I’ll take it to him, just leave it on my desk for a moment and I’ll drive round if you promise you’ll get to bed right away and not unlock the door while I’m out, no matter who it is.”

“I promise Papa, thank you.” The girl put the notebook down, pressing a kiss on her father’s cheek.

Ichigo shut his computer down, picking up the notebook to flick through it as the system finished its checks. The boy had neat handwriting, his note taking needed work however and lacked organisation slightly; Ichigo could speak to him about how to arrange things better for revision. It was then Ichigo realised why the hand writing seemed so familiar, he’d been looking at the exact same handwriting two hours ago.

How had he been so stupid?