13 Works by everbloom
Listing Works
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"Of course people are going to wonder," Matsumoto tells him, placing a small stack of papers on top of his desk.
"My personal affairs — yet alone romantic life — were to no one's interests before, I don't see what's so enticing about it now."
There's that know-it-all kind of grin that she throws his way when she has something snarky to say, "You're kidding, right? Objectively speaking, you are good-looking, and trust me, from personal experience, if you're pretty, people are gonna talk whether you like it or not. Some people will be interested, personally interested, and don't think I've never noticed all those love letters you've blatantly ignored, captain, there are people who have clearly expressed their interest in you. Which reminds me! I think this one at least warrants a response."
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"You're pretty active, I thought Urahara said hollows wouldn't be able to move in one of those," Ichigo says instead.
"Good thing this one's a prototype."
One of the flawed prototypes, not meant for use. Ichigo frowns as realization connects in his head. "He doesn't know you're like this."
Or, an encounter with one of Urahara's more unconventional gigais leaves Grimmjow trapped and powerless.
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"It's a ring." Kurosaki is the first to break the silence, voice nearly inaudible if it weren't for the fact that Grimmjow is hyper-focused on him. Always has been when it comes to Kurosaki. Except right now, Grimmjow is focused on everything Kurosaki is. Human.
Grimmjow's been human, he knows what something like this means.
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What compels Ichigo to ask is beyond him. His brain's still sloshing with too much epinephrine and the hypnotic swish of Grimmjow's tail doesn't stop him from blurting out, "Can you do that partial resurrección thing with your tail?"
"Why the fuck would I ever need to do that?"
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If it had been anyone else, Ichigo would be a little apologetic of all the pain he's relayed to his soulmate. Except it's not just anyone, his soulmate is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and in all his fighty and battle hungry glory is going to get himself killed.
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"You know there's supposed to be a storm tonight," Mark responds with his own warning, a less cryptic one.
The man gives him an inquisitive look, eyes not leaving Mark's face as he simply responds, "I think it's already here."
Or, Johnny is immortal, and Mark isn't quite.
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"Can I see it?" Taeyong asks, hand already drifting towards Ten's back. A nod is all Taeyong needs before she unclasps Ten's bra and discards it onto the growing pile on the floor.
Ten raises her arm above her head to give Taeyong a proper view of the tattoo. It's gorgeous, Taeyong muses.
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Johnny is as heartbreakingly beautiful as Mark had left him, familiar yet so different. He's not quite the Johnny he used to know. He's not quite Johnny from NCT. He's not quite Mark's Johnny.
Then again, Johnny was never really his.
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Mark inhales a steady breath in an attempt to rein his rapidly beating heart to a normal rhythm. He swallows, peering over his shoulder, "When you said you wanted to go for a ride with me, this isn't what I had in mind."
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For someone who's suppose to be the token straight friend, Mark's kissed quite a few boys.
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It’s almost Pavlovian. The sound of the lighter hissing, the earthy scent filling the room, the billowing smoke above their heads.
This time, he doesn’t get those cues when Johnny kisses him.
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Their relationship is a pattern, and Seokjin can't seem to figure it out.
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They forget the cameras, they forget about the residual makeup on their faces, they forget about the expectations they have to live up to.
They're normal.