Being the mafia boss of one of the most infamous organizations in the underworld was… well, interesting. Death threats, shootouts, back-alley fights, shady deals, and gambling—your life was a whirlwind of chaos. When your father handed you the reins to the “family business,” he left you with one final parting gift: a bodyguard.

Not just any bodyguard, though. Grimmjow.

He was a hulking, tattoo-covered menace with bright blue eyes, vibrant blue hair, and a personality that was as cold as it was hot-tempered. And to make matters worse, he followed you everywhere. His presence was like a shadow you couldn’t shake, always looming over you, always watching.

The worst part? The teasing. Constant nicknames, backhanded comments, and that infuriating smirk that made you want to punch him—if you thought you could land a hit. He seemed to delight in pissing you off, and you weren’t entirely sure if it was because he enjoyed your reactions or if it was just his nature to be insufferable.

“Need me to hold your hand, boss?” he’d say with that cocky grin, just loud enough to make your blood boil during meetings. Or worse: “Careful, princess. Don’t want you breaking a nail.”

He was the bane of your existence—but also, you had to admit, one hell of a bodyguard. Whether it was taking a bullet for you, intimidating a rival gang, or simply standing as an impenetrable wall between you and death, Grimmjow was always there. Reliable, dangerous, and undeniably infuriating.

You hated to admit it, but under the layers of annoyance, you were begrudgingly grateful. Even if he drove you up the wall.