#how to style fall trousers

[larrylimericks]

1Jun23

Black tank tops, the reason we died. H thirst trapped, his husband replied. Fans feral and jarred By arms sculpted and scarred ... The Larents said, “Bitches, it’s Pride.”

[webism]

pornstar!nanami who has a signature style to his videos—all of which are solo content consisting of him, manspreading in front of the camera in an awfully expensive suit. as his hands trace the muscles of his thighs, the seams of his trousers, the outline of his hardened cock.

pornstar!nanami who always takes his time getting to the good stuff, his voice silken as he speaks to those watching him. praise falls from his lips, which are always just out of view—the man doesn't dare show his face. something about professionalism and all.

pornstar!nanami whose videos usually end with him cumming into his closed fist, or into a toy if he's feeling so inclined. as a long time viewer of him, you've come to learn a few things about how he orgasms—he always bucks his hips up, chasing that instinct to breed. he always moans like he's in heat just before his climax, but because he's not great with breathing through his orgasms he chokes up just as he falls over the edge—it's a pretty sound.

pornstar!nanami who sometimes gets messy with it—he's such an organised and ritualistic man in his day-to-day that he sometimes just wants to let loose. sometimes, he'll only pull his cock out of his pants through the fly, and let the world watch as his precum dribbles all over those pressed pants of his. oh and does he go feral knowing that he's dirtying something so expensive with the receipts of his lust. who will stroke himself to completion just to watch his cum stain the fabric he's worked so hard to afford—there's no explaining that away to a drycleaner.

pornstar!nanami who likes to imagine it's a pretty thing riding his thigh that wrecks his trousers. wonders how many of his viewers touch themselves to his videos, hoping the could take him for all he's worth as well.

pornstar!nanami who, after a particularly messy session one day, gets an email after uploading his video. it's not even been ten minutes, which was the length of his video, so he assumes whoever has emailed him came particularly fast to that one.

pornstar!nanami who was more than right in his assumption. because as his eyes rake over the email sent by an adoring fan, he sees about a million different typos that indicate nothing other than messy fingers and a fucked-dumb typist. in your barely legible email, you explain that Mr. Nanamis videos are tagged 'near-you', and you'd happily offer your services as the next sex toy he uses to fuck-and-film in exchange for an orgasm or three.

and oh is pornstar!nanami intrigued. because his life is a busy one, he's a businessman when the sun is up time is precious and human connection is a scheduling conflict—his videos aren't solo out of preference, poor nanami, the pornstar, is a virgin.

pornstar!nanami who, after a few weeks of back and forth and some genuine conversation, ends up with his camera flashing red as you sit naked on his lap. and oh are you happy with the sight of him, blonde and sculpted to perfection underneath those lovely suits of his. Your ass is on display to anyone watching, upper half out of shot as your teeth clash with his.

pornstar!nanami who can't help the sounds he makes when you grind against his clothed cock. your slick, your pooling lust, it smears over the fabric of his pants and leaves a gloss behind in turn. he's ravenous, holding onto your hips and grinding you down against him in all the right ways. who moans into your mouth, already a little pussydrunk and he's barely had a taste of you.

pornstar!nanami who hopes he isn't unseemly in the way he manhandles you to sit properly on his lap. he knows you're as desperate as he is, what with the way you slip your hands down to undo his belt and pull his cock free. your fingers wrapped around his length is enough of a narcotic to cum on the spot, though he steadies his reeling mind and holds out.

pornstar!nanami who offers to fuck you on his fingers first, to use his tongue to warm you up and get you ready for his, frankly overbearing, size. but you're insistent, eager, and lowering yourself onto his aching cock with a kiss to his lips and a sharp inhale shared between you.

pornstar!nanami who thanks whatever god may be out there for letting him film a glimpse of heaven.

pornstar!nanami who can barely keep himself together as you ride him like he's the toy at hand. he's sure he's never been this vocal for his viewers, moaning alone is a feat that is hot at best and hauntingly awkward at worst—this, though—he's never been so mindless. and you love it. all the videos you've watched where his voice is smooth and confident and he's the picture of put-together. having such a man, a gentleman like nanami, absolutely melting with each clench of your dripping pussy around his length? it's an aphrodisiac in itself.

and when you catch onto the fact that pornstar!nanami is about to cum—the bucking of his hips, those drawling moans, the hitch of his breath—you kiss him stupid, and then speak against his pretty swollen lips. 'breathe'

and oh does pornstar!nanami breathe. a desperate droning moan escapes his breath, right into your mouth as he empties himself inside of you like he's trying to give you his last name.

pornstar!nanami who can't help himself. flipping you over and onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as he continues to fuck into you. he's going to pull as many orgasms out of you as he can—it doesn't even register in his mind that, due to the new angle of your bodies, he's just let the world see his face, and the pretty pussy drunk blush that paints it pink.

[hungryfacesart]

Elevate Your Fall Style: 5 Timeless Essentials for a Refined Wardrobe, celebrities approved

In the ethereal dance between fashion and individual expression, the fall season emerges as a canvas for sartorial poetry. As a fashion stylist, my journey through style evolution has been a revelation, emphasizing the transformative power of timeless essentials. Here, I invite you to embark on a voyage of sartorial refinement, where quality meets democratic pricing, and iconic pieces weave their…

[borathae]

moonlight

"Taehyung asks you to sneak out with him and you end up making passionate love to him in a hayloft."

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut, Slice of Life Fluff

Warnings: a romantic horseback ride in the moonlight, passionate sex in a hayloft, soft but mean Dom!Taehyung, sub!Reader, listen he's a tease 100, neck kisses, body worshipping, breast worship, nipple play & sucking, oral sex (f.receiving), he licks her over her panties ngng, a very quick rimjob, orgasm control, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), dirty talk, praise, strength kink, good girl kink, he calls her his slut once, the title Sir falls like once, doggy style to pronebone, clit spanking with his cock, frotting, he kinda describes to her in vivid detail how he'd take her anal virginity jsjsjs, he is so unhinged and sexy, subby girl tears, he's the safest Dom, a huge creampie, cuddly aftercare, they're so in love <3

Wordcount: 6.8k

a/n: this is the second story based on my fellow tae girlies' wishes. i needed to write something about them in a hayloft. i would say that it takes place three days after they returned from their magical holiday in Caerula Luna. have fun besties hehe 💙

You haven’t been asleep for long when someone shakes you awake again. You open your eyes, meeting glowing ruby eyes. 

“Who are you?” you feel awake instantly, tensing up in fright.

“It’s me. Tae.”

“Oh god Tae, you just scared me so bad”, you whine, relaxing slowly as the shock still sits deep in your sleepy mind.

“Why?” he asks, blinking his eyes at you in the darkness. It is rather hypnotizing to watch his two glowing orbs appear and disappear repeatedly. 

“Because you shook me awake and then stared at me in complete darkness with your red eyes like a creep.”

“Ah yes, you cannot see in the darkness. Forgive me, I forgot”, he says and lays himself on top of you to reach your bedside lamp.

You laugh, patting his butt. 

“Gosh you silly.” The lights turn on. “No Tae, too bright.”

Taehyung ignores you, straddling your lap. He giggles, rocking his hips back and forth while his hands dimple the pillow on each side of your head. He is in a flowy blouse and skin tight trousers, wearing jewellery. Almost as if he dressed up for you.

You let out a fond scoff and throw your arm over your eyes, rubbing his thigh mindlessly with your other hand.

“You’re lucky you’re cute”, you mumble with a smile on your lips.

Taehyung leans down and places affectionate kisses along your jawline and neck, eliciting purrs of contentment from you. He also stubs you with the tip of his nose every now and then. 

“I truly have good reasons for waking you”, he speaks softly between kisses.

“Mhm, they better be good”, you are joking, making him smile against your skin. He dances his fingertips along your arms until he has your hands under them. He takes them, holding them tightly as he straightens up.

“Do you want to sneak out with me?”

“Huh?”

“Sneak out with me. Please.” 

“Sneak out? Who are we sneaking out from?”

Taehyung shrugs his shoulders, grinning boyishly.

“Just no one in particular. It sounds more exciting this way.”

You really love his imaginative mind and how he finds so much joy in role playing. Not only in sexual ways, but in general. Taehyung really loves to daydream about different scenarios and then act them out with one of you. He is so adorable.

“Fine.” You slide your hands from his hold to caress his thighs. “Let’s assume that we’re sneaking out, where are we going?”

“That you will only find out once you come with me.”

You laugh.

Taehyung grins. 

“Okay fine, you’ve got my interest piqued. I’ll come with you.”

“Yippie”, Taehyung exclaims and rolls off of you, picking you up bridal style.

“Tae, oh god warn me next time”, you laugh, throwing your head back as he twirls with you.

He sets you down soon after, taking you by your hand to lead you outside. Your journey takes you out of your wing and the estate. His horse is waiting at the end of the stairs.

“What’s Starlight doing here?”

“She shall be our method of escape. Now may I?”

“What are you gonna do?”

Taehyung places his hands on your hips, “allow me to show you.”

“Okay?”

He picks you up and lifts you onto the horse so you were sitting on it sideways. He keeps an arm around your thighs, mounting the saddle in a skilful movement. 

So now you are sitting in front of him while he keeps you steady with his arms. He meets your giddy gaze, giving you a smile.

“Shall we escape, my darling?”

“Yeah, let’s escape”, you say, resting your head against his chest.

Taehyung clicks his tongue to get the horse to move. The horse trots off, walking slowly so you would have it comfortable.

“Oh god.” You snuggle closer, giggling. “This is this craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Isn’t it so wonderful?”

“Yeah, it’s so romantic.”

“Indeed it is.” He agrees and sighs. “Oh darling, the night is wonderful. I am so delighted to spend it with you.”

“Me too. Where are we going?”

“Just someplace no one will ever find us.”

You smile. That doesn’t sound bad at all.

Your journey takes you away from the estate, past meadows and through the forest until another meadow is before your eyes. In the middle of it, an old barn is standing, waiting to be used again.

“Do you see the building in the distance?” Taehyung asks you.

“Are we going there?”

“Indeed we are. We must take shelter before the weather changes.”

You look up at the sky. It is so clear that one can see every single star in the universe. You feel yourself smiling. Taehyung is being playful again.

“Thankfully we found it when we did. I would have hated to get wet.”

“Indeed”, Taehyung agrees, sneaking a glance at you. He is visibly giddy because you are playing along.

Taehyung helps you off Starlight once you have reached the barn.

“Do you perhaps want to close your eyes for me?” he asks.

“Don’t tell me you have something prepared”, you say, closing your eyes.

“Perhaps I have”, he says and takes your hand, “open them once I tell you to.”

“Okay I will. Gosh Tae, you’re getting me so excited right now.”

He chuckles, leading you and his horse inside the barn. He ties Starlight to one of the pillars then wraps his arm around your waist.

“Don’t frighten, I will jump.”

“Ju-aah!”

Your feet leave the ground as Taehyung leaps up onto the second floor. He lands without sound, setting you down carefully.

“Holy moly, that was so scary”, you curse.

“Forgive me, but the good news is that you can open your eyes now.”

You open your eyes to dozens and dozens of candles illuminating a small area of the hay loft. Taehyung laid out a blanket on top of the hay and made it even more comfortable with pillows. 

“Tae”, you gasp, looking at him in flabbergasted breathlessness.

“Surprise.” He smiles. “You mentioned how you wanted to try love making in a hay loft and so I figured that I could fulfil this wish of yours.”

“Tae, oh my god…”

“Obviously only if you wish the same. I brought many blankets so if you only want to talk or hug or fall asleep again, we can do so as well. I merely thought that we could do what we couldn’t do at your grandparents’ home.”

He studies your features shyly.

“What’s the matter? Why are you not saying anything? Do you not like it?”

You shake your head and close the distance, hugging him tightly.

“I love it so much. I’m just speechless because it’s so nice. Oh Tae, I love it so much.”

Taehyung hugs you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your pulse is heightened. 

“You do?”

“I do. So much. Gosh, you are so cute.” You melt into him. “I can’t believe you prepared all of this. It’s so romantic. And beautiful. And nice. And amazing.”

He breaks away just so he can gaze at you, holding both your hands as he does.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it so much. Gosh Tae, thank you so much. I appreciate it so much.”

He smiles, guiding your hands to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles.

“Based on how often you said so much, I can sense your honesty”, he jokes, making you laugh.

“I am. I’m honest.”

His eyes soften. “I love you very much, my darling.”

“I love you too, Tae darling.”

You and he gaze at the other, sharing silence. You are the one to break said silence, showing him your giddiness by lowering your eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, it’s just weird to know that we’re going to have sex now.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…” You meet his eyes. “I’m more of a spontaneous lover. I don’t know how to start stuff like this.”

“I see. Shall I start it then?”

“Yes.”

“May I help you relax?”

You feel tingles in your stomach. Yup, he is definitely doing magic already. With a fluttering pulse you nod your head.

Taehyung closes the distance with a kiss to your neck. You roll your head to the side, sighing his name. His kiss feels so good when it promises sweet love making. His big, tender hands let go of yours so they can travel along your torso. Being touched likes this truly shows you how thin the fabric of your sleeping clothes truly is. The heat of his touch is sinking into the deepest fibres of your body, exciting you comfortably.

“You have the most beautiful neck, my darling”, Taehyung whispers.

“Tae…”

“Mhm”, he bites your earlobe playfully, making you gasp and clutch his waist. It brings in his flowy shirt, showing your hands how small his waist actually was. “Allow me to help you get comfortable.”

“You can do whatever you want to me.”

He smiles, squeezing your waist, “mhm, don’t test me. I might be tempted to get rough with you.”

He is being playful, making you giggle and squirm. He definitely knows how to get you into the right mindset.

He chuckles and presses his lips to your ear.

“Jump.”

You do so, sighing when he catches you in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, burying your hands deep in his dark locks. They feel a little cold from the nightly ride, hugging your fingers softly. 

He is gazing up at you, giving you his giddiest smile, “my beautiful. You are so incredibly beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful too. Oh Tae”, you say, claiming his lips in a kiss.

Taehyung sighs, kissing you back eagerly. He craved the taste of you and the softness of your lips. 

Lost in the kiss, he carries you to the blanket. He kneels down, making sure to lie you down carefully. Once you are on your back, he places himself over you, kissing you like this while his hips move against you carefully. 

It isn’t long that you have to break the kiss to gasp and look at him. Your legs squeeze his waist, your fingers fall from his hair to grasp his upper arms instead.

“Is this alright for me to do?” he makes sure, caressing your cheeks.

“Yes”, you sigh, rolling your hips into him. He shivers from the sensation, moaning quietly. He is getting hard. It turns you on a lot.

“You are so beautiful. Oh darling, you are so beautiful”, he whispers, making your heart race. 

“Do you love me?”

“I love you like the moon loves the sun. Because without her, he wouldn’t shine.”

“Oh god”, you giggle, hiding away in his arm. “Taehyung, oh my god. This was so romantic.” 

He smiles fondly, kissing your newly exposed neck and jawline.

“You are adorable, my sweetest”, he whispers and moves the collar of your dress aside so his lips could worship your shoulder and collarbone. He caresses the parts he isn’t currently kissing. His fingertips are so tender against your body.

Only once he truly kissed every inch of the exposed spot, does he move on to another. He guides your head into a different position with his hand gently around your throat. 

The way you gaze up at him makes his heart feel alive. Submission. The kind of safe, warm submission only someone dearly trusted can bring out.

“Do you feel good?” he asks.

“Yes”, you sigh.

“That makes me happy. Relax, my darling. I have you”, he says and exposes your other shoulder to shower you in the adoration you deserve. It is the same than before and yet different because you beg him for more very soon. “What do you want?”

“Can you touch my boobs?” 

“Of course, everything my darling wants. I am here to serve you.” 

And so it happens that Taehyung kisses your exposed shoulder and sucks hickeys to your neck and collarbone while his left hand cradles your breasts. He massages them gently over the thin material of your sleeping gown, dragging the warmest tingles to the surface. He squeezes them as tenderly as possible and rubs your nipples when the affection brings them to the surface.

“Oh god”, you get out breathlessly.

“Is this good for you?” 

“Yes…”

“Good, that’s good. You are so beautiful, my darling sweetheart.” 

Taehyung fixes the collar of your dress before he takes another path. He wouldn’t want you to feel chilly in the nightly air. He kisses his way to your chest, moaning in delight because there is nothing better than worshiping you. You should know how remarkable you are. Taehyung is still struck in awe about your magical potential, how you took them to another realm and gave them a chance at being human again. He is grateful for it, grateful that he got to experience racing heartbeats and proper warmth again. And he needs you to feel the appreciation he harbors for you. There is so much of it. And it is never ending.

“My beautiful darling. How I adore you.” 

He is careful at first, only brushing his lips over the paths of your breasts. But you moan and sigh so sweetly and your nipples are so hard each time he brushes against them, that Taehyung cannot control himself any longer. He wraps his lips around one of them, sucking and licking the swollen bud through your dress. 

“Ahng”, the noise you let out assures him that he is doing a good job. You arch your back, chasing the fiery sensation. The fabric in his mouth is soaked entirely, his mouth is so warm. You can feel each lick. But the true peak of his affection is when he releases your nipple to suck on the other and the coldness of the air soaks the wet fabric. The spot is freezing, forcing goosebumps to the surface of your sensitive skin. 

“Tae…” 

Taehyung purrs happily as he sucks on your nipple, sliding his fingers to the other to massage it. It is cold to the touch. The fabric sticks to it and gives him a perfect feel of its shape. So he merely brushes his fingertips over it, giving it minimal attention so you can continue to shiver underneath him. 

It isn’t until Taehyung is stuck in the blissful moment of changing sides with both hands playing with your nipples that you stop him. You tug on a bundle of his hair, whimpering softly.

“Stop, please.”

He sits up. Your legs are around his hips that way.

“Did you change your mind?” 

You shake your head vigorously, “it, it makes me want to cum.”

He smiles, “well this…oh darling, this”, he leans down again, nipping at your breasts, “this is indeed a predicament. What should I do with you, mhm?” 

The teasing tone in his honey voice makes you shudder.

“Oh god, Tae.”

“May I continue? Is this your wish?”

“Yes”, you whimper, arching your back.

“How wonderful. Relax, you are in safe hands”, he whispers sweetly and gives you time to breathe by guiding his kisses to your stomach instead. He moans and sighs, worshiping every inch of it because you deserve to feel loved. 

He loves you so much and he hopes that through his kisses and touches he can make you experience it. Oh, how he adores you. How he wants to make you feel good. 

It isn’t long and he has reached your legs. Your sleeping gown ends a little over your knees. He stops, playing with the hem of it.

“May I lift it?” 

“Yes”, you answer him, lifting your hips eagerly to which he laughs and pins them down again.

“Patience. I shall tell you when you need to raise them.”

“Are you taking it slow?”

“Of course I am, my darling”, he assures you with teasing playfulness in his voice, smiling against your skin when you whine in impatience. But he doesn’t let you rush him. He kisses your thighs slowly and thoroughly. He sucks hickeys into your skin, gives the softest parts gentle love bites, guides his hands over your silken skin. He wants you to feel breathless from all the love he pours into his affection. 

And you do. You feel breathless, bucking your hips up in impatience. Your pussy aches. You haven't felt her throb and pulse as much as she does right now in a long time. You experienced the tenderness of his lips all over your body and you need it on your pussy. Now. Instantly. Right this second.

“Please.”

“Please what? You have to tell me what you need”, he coos, head hidden in your dress.

“Lick me.”

“Like this?” he taunts, guiding his tongue down your inner thigh. He is doing this on purpose. He is acting oblivious just to get you to tell him. He is playing with you because he is mean like that.

“No”, you mewl, shivering.

“What possibly could you mean then?”

“Oh god Tae, please just lick my pussy”, you beg, fucking the air aggressively. 

He chuckles, pinning you down easily.

“You are adorable.” 

“Please.”

“Adorable. You are just adorable”, he rasps and places his mouth against your pussy. He darts his tongue out, licking a thick stripe along your sensitive heat.

“Aah a-ah, aah, aah, a-ah”, you are noisy instantly, twisting the blanket because you cannot twist his hair.

It is important to mention that you are still wearing your panties at this point of the night. And that Taehyung doesn’t let this stop him from tasting you. He sucks out your taste, purring deeply because there is no taste more saccharine than that of your heat. Especially when it is soaked deep into your panties and he needs to work for it. He sucks and sucks and sucks until the fabric is soaked in his spit. 

“So sweet. My darling’s so sweet”, he lulls and presses his tongue against your clothed clit. He uses his neck muscles to move his head, grinding the flat of his hot tongue against your clothed heaven. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god”, you are out of breath, completely flabbergasted by what he makes you feel. The sensation of his skin is missing, but everything else is there. His heat, the slick wetness, his moans. And because he is soaking your panties, the parts he doesn’t lick are cold in the night air. You are in a constant state of different temperatures. Hot mouth and cold panties. Your pussy weeps to make sense of it. Quite frankly, you want to weep as well. 

“I can’t get enough. Mhm darling, you taste so good. So sweet. Darling, oh darling, my darling”, he babbles between his licks, humping the floor needily. 

He will make you climax. You didn’t think it possible that something like this could make you orgasm, but thinking back, you are foolish. Of course he could make you orgasm this way. It is Taehyung and Taehyung will always show you new ways of how sex can feel. It is never boring with him. 

Although tonight, you wish that he would be just a little bit boring. You are burning up and it’s so unfair that you are already close. 

“Stop please, you’re making me cum” you beg him, trying to grasp him through the fabric of your dress.

Taehyung growls playfully, breaking away from you even if you instantly whine for more.

“Adorable. You are simply adorable”, he coos and appears from your dress to smile at you. His lips are puffy, his hair ruffled from being buried under your dress. 

“Why are you like this?” you keen, wiping at your eyes so you wouldn’t cry.

“What do you mean?”

“I, I don’t know. Oh god, Tae.”

“Did you like how I licked you?” he is taunting you.

You spill tears, making grabby hands at him. He places himself over you instantly, holding your hands on each side of your head. 

“Yeah, liked it”, you sniffle, “Tae, I feel droopy.”

“You look droopy. And beautiful. So very beautiful”, he praises, kissing the tip of your nose, “don’t be scared. Allow it to happen. I am here.”

You sink into the droopy headspace further. You are completely his’ right now, so vulnerable that it would break your heart if he stopped it. But he doesn’t stop it. Because as much as you are floating in a safe subspace, Taehyung is floating in a warm Domspace. He loves every second with you, feeling high with you. 

“I love you”, he tells you.

“I love you too”, you tell him.

“So beautiful”, he says and disappears between your legs again. He lifts your hips with one hand, using the other to take off your panties. He gives them a deep sniff and a kiss, “so sweet”, then places them aside. He uses the position to push the dress over your butt, letting it punch around your waist. Only then does he lower your hips again, lifting your legs next to prop them up. You are spread like this, exposed to his eyes and the cold air. 

It is sinful how he is still entirely dressed while you are already showing him your parts most private. It is as if he is inspecting you. You can’t breathe properly at this aspect. This is so arousing to you.

“I know that I am repeating myself, but you are so beautiful, my darling. Look at you. Look at the shape of you, the beautiful colours of you, how wet you are. Oh, I want to treat your petals like they deserve to be treated.”

You clench around nothing. Taehyung delights at the view.

“How adorable. May I touch?” 

“Yes, please”, you beg him, spreading your legs further.

Taehyung places his left hand on your lower tummy, using his fingers to spread your pussy. He traces the shapes of you with his right hand, using only his fingertips. 

You are mewling instantly. You are aware that you sound needy and desperate, but you can’t help yourself. He makes you sensitive and each touch he places feels like the one able to break you. 

“How soft you are. How warm. How wet”, he rasps, gazing at you, “does this feel good, my darling?” 

He pulls you apart just a little more and rubs your newly exposed clit in circular motions. He makes sure to put special emphasis whenever his fingers rub up and down. 

“Yes ah, aaah Tae…”

“How beautiful, oh so beautiful.”

You are so wet that his clit massage is easy. And he makes you feel so good that you keep leaking more and more slick. His initial plan was to massage your other parts as well, but you are moaning so sweetly with his finger on your clit that Taehyung doesn’t have the heart to move away. He massages you eagerly, keeping track of your orgasm by looking at your glistening entrance.

Whenever you get close, you clench it involuntarily. He learned this about you from paying attention to whenever you played. 

“Keep breathing for me, there we go. Such a good girl”, he talks to you each time you get a little restless. And it works at first. It works perfectly, but soon all the breathing in the world couldn’t bring you down again. You clench. Taehyung’s only option is to pull away. 

“No please don’t edge me anymore. Please”, you wail, shaking in desperation. He has been playing with you for too long. He kept telling you to breathe, slowed down whenever you felt it coming closer. It’s been too long. You just want to cum.

“Breathe darling. I know it hurts, so I need you to breathe.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“You asked me to relax you and so I did.”

“What?” 

You meet his eyes, having to gulp. Crazed playfulness is burning in them. It is as if he is fucking you raw with just his gaze.

“My darling, your pretty cunt has never looked more ready to take me. Look at how wet you are, how swollen your petals are, how empty your hole looks. You are so perfectly prepared. I merely did what you asked of me.”

Taehyung is normally such a gentleman that you sometimes forget that behind this mannered mask a huge, nasty pervert is hiding. You are reminded again and it’s messing you up.

He is right. You are empty and swollen and wet and you need him to fill you. Now. Instantly. Right this second.

“Please fuck me, please.” You sit up and begin tugging at his clothes. “Please fuck me, please Tae. Take it off, please.”

“Calm down darling, calm down”, he chuckles, guiding your hands away, “I would hate to have to tie up your grabby hands. Let me and be patient, yes?” 

“I want to be fucked.”

“I know darling, but the more you hinder me, the longer you have to wait. Are you going to be my good girl now, mhm?”

“Yes Sir”, you get out obediently because he managed to put you back in your place with just his words.

“There we go. That’s my good girl. You know, the better you behave, the harder I will fuck you. Only good behaviour will get you rewarded”, he talks as he undresses, riling you up even more. He takes off his pants first.

You ogle his cock. It is thrashing around, leaking droplets of his excitement. You want to suck him off, but you hold back. You need to be his good girl.

Taehyung doesn’t pay mind to his cock, unlacing his shirt so he could pull it off. He talks as he does it.

“Although don’t misunderstand, shall you misbehave, I shall fuck you just as hard. I will simply stop listening to your pleas for a break.” He pulls his shirt over his head. “But I am certain that you want to be my good girl tonight. Am I wrong in my-”

He forgets to talk. To breathe. To even properly function. You are naked, presenting yourself to him on all fours. You are arching your back, showing your glistening pussy and hole to him.

“What the fuck?” is all he gets out as his shirt slides from his weakened fingers.

You have him cursing. Your position has the desired effect on him. You mewl in realisation, sticking your ass out more. 

“What, what”, he stutters, gasping for air, “what…dar-darling, what are you do-doing?” 

“Please fuck me.” 

“Holy fuck”, he runs his hand through his own hair in distress, “darling, I should be so angry at you. Oh you drive me insane, you perfect goddess”, you gets out and attacks you with bites all over your buttocks.

You giggle, fleeing him with minimal effort.

“I’m going to eat you. You are too perfect.” He babbles between his eager bites. "Perfect. So fucking perfect”, he growls and sticks his tongue into your hole just long enough that you start gasping. He couldn’t help himself. When you present yourself so deliciously, Taehyung just needs to steal a taste. 

He doesn’t linger for long because ever since you presented yourself like this, his cock started aching unbearably and he really needs to be inside you. 

He still manages to get you breathless and twisting the blanket when he pulls back. He closes in, slapping his heavy cock against your pussy. Gently. Right against your clit to make you flinch with each spank. 

“One day I shall fuck your beautiful ass full of my seed”, he lulls his words, twitching each time his cockhead slaps against your clit. It feels just as good for him as it does for you.

“Taehyung, ah Taehyung”, you moan as your head begins to turn. You didn’t even know how much you needed your clit spanked until he gave it to you. And to make matters even worse, Taehyung gives you breaks by rubbing his cock through your puffy folds. He does so until you gasp, exchanging the grinds with new spanks. He will definitely make you climax if he keeps this going.

“I’ll play with you all day, make you wear different toys and take you out on a date. I’d make you carry a bag with all the toys I’d work up your tolerance with. Just imagine. I’d take you to the bathroom and make you bend over so I can exchange the damned toy in your ass.” He growls the last sentence, spanking your clit especially hard.

You flinch forward, twisting the blanket. You can only mewl because all your concentration is on not cumming accidentally. He grinds against you after the spank, staring at your ass with darkened eyes.

“Just imagine once we reached the last toy of the evening. How big it would be, how stretched out you’d be. You would feel it with each step, would feel it when I sit you down in my car to drive you home. By the time, I have you in my wing, you’d be fucking begging for my cock. Fuck darling”, he grits his teeth, huffing out air. “Look at what you are doing to me. You have me cursing and spitting such disgusting things.” 

He spanks your clit again. Doing so over and over and over…he makes you cum. It’s going to happen. You can’t hold back anymore and so you ready yourself. A mistake, because Taehyung picks up on it instantly and pulls away. 

The wail of agony you let out almost makes him feel bad. Almost. He leans down and kisses your spine, rubbing your sides gently.

“Breathe darling. Be my good girl and breathe”, he speaks sweetly again. The once feral Taehyung from before is tamed. “I am sorry for losing my composure. That must have been scary for you.”

You sob. He is actually making fun of you. Holy fuck. This is just a game to him.

“Please”, you beg weakly.

“Please what? I told you darling, I can only give you what you want when you are using your words. Please don’t disobey me, my darling.”

You shudder. He is so good with his words.

“Fuck me. I can’t do this anymore. I need your cock. Please.”

“There we go. See? It wasn’t that hard to use your words”, he speaks sickeningly sweet and presses his tip against your puffy entrance. He applies no pressure and he is already slipping inside, whimpering in surprise because your pussy is practically sucking him in. 

“Thank you”, you mewl, pressing back into him until he sits inside you entirely. It isn’t often that he fits inside completely, making you sob his name because it feels so good to you. 

“Do, do I hurt?” he stutters, fighting with his air. He wants to move, but holds back for your sake. He couldn’t live with himself if he knew that he was causing you discomfort.

“No, it feels so good, please move.”

“I am keeping my, my cock human. To make it seem as…as if we…are…” he barely gets his words out as he rolls his hips into you. He grasps your hips, guiding them so it would feel the best for both of you. “Heavens, it is difficult to talk.”

“You don’t have to”, you squeak out.

“I don’t, good”, he says and moans, rolling his head back sensually, “just tell me that you feel good.”

“I do. I feel so good.”

“Darling…You feel good too, so good…” 

The sex becomes more intense now that you got rid of the pressure of talking. When you and Taehyung are like this, it is impossible to talk and knowing that it is okay to only moan makes this feel like an acid trip. He fucks into you deep and hard, moaning and growling while you answer him in high pitched squeaks and ecstatic sobs. 

The wooden planks feel hard under your knees and against the cheek you are squishing down on them. The blanket makes it comfortable.

“Are your knees alright? Is it not too hard?” Taehyung still checks up on you because he is starting to feel the hardness of the boards as well.

“Good. Is good. Tae, I love this”, you mewl, throbbing around him.

“I love it too. Such a good girl. You are taking me so well”, he praises and looks at where you are connecting. He pulls out completely, spanks your hole just once then pushes back inside, growling deeply at the sinful view. He has you even puffier than before, his cock is so thick inside you that it squeezes out your juices. Taehyung buries himself into you until his crotch sits against your pussy and you can soak his pubes with your sweet nectar. 

“You are getting me so messy”, he lulls and grabs your buttocks to spread you on him. The view is so arousing to him. You on his cock while your soft body jiggles each time he slams his hips into you.

Something happened to Taehyung. You have no idea what, but the way he fucks you suddenly feels way too good. You can barely breathe or stay on your knees. Constant waves of hot electricity shoot through your entire body and the warmth between your legs makes you weep.

What you aren’t aware of is that Taehyung found his composure again. He may have been lost in the sensation at first, but he found his control again. And now he is going to bring you to ruin. The view of him fucking your pretty cunt motivates him. The constant squelching of your juices and the sensarion of them on his dick makes him want to fuck you better just to increase them. The ecstatic sounds you can’t control from coming out, urge him to keep them going. 

Taehyung is back and he is going to make sure that you lose yourself completely. He slides his right hand to your front and pinches your clit between his fingers so he can roll it quickly.

You scream, collapsing on the ground. Taehyung lets you, but pulls up your hips so he can still reach your clit. The position tightens you and he has to growls from the deepest parts of his stomach to bear the heaven you make him feel. 

“Taehyung, Taehyung please. Taehyung too much. Taehyung”, you sound panicked, kicking the floorboards as best as your pinned down legs allow you to. 

“Don’t be scared. I’m here. Let go my darling, let go”, he encourages you, rolling your clit between his fingers. 

“You’ll keep going afterwards”, you wail.

“Of course I will.”

The aspect of being overstimulated is scaring you, but you can’t hold back anymore. It’s been too many times he denied you. You have to cum.

You break with a scream of his name. 

“Yes! Good girl”, he exclaims, fucking you gently as you shake and writhe. He knows exactly when to speed up again. He doesn’t miss the window for even a millisecond, drilling into you at the perfect time to completely ruin you. 

You wail his name, clawing at the boards as he makes you see stars. You genuinely only exist for pleasure right now. He fucks you so good and with such precision that you would dissolve if he stopped right now. You were scared of the overstimulation but now you need it as if it was your air. 

Taehyung holds you down with both hands. He knows your clit is swollen enough that his rough thrusts are enough to stimulate it as well. You are sucking him off with how tightly you are squeezing him. It messes him up to the point where he can’t pretend to be proper anymore.

“You are such a perfect slut. Keep fucking screaming like that. Oh, I’m going to fill you up until you can’t hold it in anymore. Hear me? I’m going to make you my pretty cumslut.”

“I can’t hold it anymore, please take it out of me”, you wail, meaning something entirely different. He is going to make you squirt, but you can’t let go because of the squeezed position. 

“My cock?” 

“No, no the, the liquid.”

“Liquid?”

You can’t be blamed. Your brain is dead. Liquid is all you could think of.

“Please”, you cough out a sob, “please make it stop. I can’t take it out.”

“Oh! Darling, just tell me”, he finally understands and pulls you back onto your knees, pressing down on your clit to finally set you off. 

You squeak as it happens, shaking against your will as you spray it everywhere.

“There we go, fucking wet yourself. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner. I bet you must have felt so full. That’s my good girl, let it all out.” 

His rough fucking makes it so that it goes everywhere and it feels so good. Such relief you haven’t felt in a long time. He is right. You felt so full and it’s finally leaving you. 

“Urgh, I can’t hold back like this. This is really turning me on, darling”, Taehyung gets out between his gritted teeth.

“I want your cum please”, you allow him.

“Thank you, darling thank you”, he moans and throws his head back, emptying his plumb balls deep inside you. The strength with which it shoots out of him and the masses he produces, are indicators that he was truly human no more. For just a second you feared for the strength of your cervix as he shot his sticky cum against it with such force that you could feel it. If you didn’t feel fucked already, the way he stuffs you does the rest. 

He pulls out after his high, moaning with you when big dollops of his seed leak out of you. With how well he fucked your pussy, it is unavoidable that your lose hole can’t hold it in. 

“Sorry”, you still apologise, trying to clench.

“Don’t. Relax. I’ll clean you up later”, he assures you and drops down beside you, pulling you with him so you are resting on his chest.

“It’s going everywhere.”

“I told you that it is alright. I have an eager tongue. I can clean whatever mess you make.”

“Oh god, Tae”, you finally melt into him, letting yourself relax even if that means his cum is seeping out of you in a constant trickle.

“Doesn’t that feel better? To relax and to let it happen?” he asks, caressing the back of your head.

“Yes, better. Good”, you sigh, melting into a puddle of giddiness. You feel so safe with him.

“That’s what I like to hear. Relax, my darling”, he whispers and kisses the crown of your head. “How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Good”, you whisper and shiver, “oh god, I feel so giddy, this was so good.”

“It was incredible”, he rolls to his side so you were nuzzled into him, “I am so proud of you. You took me like such a good girl. I loved every second with you.”

You gaze up at him, spilling new tears when he wipes your old ones with such tenderness and care.

“I feel so safe with you”, you squeak out.

“You are safe with me. I promise you”, he says honestly and kisses your forehead, “my darling girl. Oh, how I want to treat you right.”

“You do. You treat me so right.”

He smiles, kisses your forehead again.

“That is good to hear.”

“I’m so happy that we went on this trip. I feel so much safer with you.”

“You do?” 

“Yes. Yes, like, like I felt when we first started out. I was so scared back then, so confused and helpless, but you were my safe space. I feel like this again when I’m with you.”

“Oh.” Taehyung lowers his head. Tears escape him.

“Why are you crying?” you gasp, wiping them instantly.

“Because I wished for you to trust me like this again for ages. What you and I had back then was magical to me. I feel so happy knowing that we have it back.” 

“Oh Tae, you are so sweet.”

“Thank you for saying this. Oh sweetest”, he kisses your forehead, “I am grateful for this trip as well. I feel so much closer to you as well as Kook and Yoongi.”

“Me too”, you say and giggle.

He giggles with you.

“But now, you must tell me how it was. How did you like your first time in a hayloft?” he asks afterwards.

You wiggle in his arms happily.

“I actually kinda forgot that we are in a hayloft.”

“You did? How sad”, Taehyung pouts before he reaches over you to get something. Moments later you have a few pieces of hay in your hair and one of it poking your forehead as he tickles your face with it.

“Tae, what is that?” you cackle, escaping him with zero effort. Quite frankly, you are snuggling into him.

“The proper hayloft experience. You have something in your hair, darling. Let me get it for you.”

“Yes, because you put it there”, you laugh, squeaking in laughter soon after when Taehyung rolls you into the hay and begins kissing your neck.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Time Travellers Husband

Rhys x Cassians!Sister!Reader

Summary - The gift of time travel was unique to you and you alone, the only thing is that you can't control where you go or when, or for how long.

Warnings - ptsd, trauma, angsttttttt, fluff, mentions and depictions of SA, Under The Mountain trauma

Word Count - 6.8k (unedited, don't come at me)

Based on this ask x

It was an odd feeling, to travel through time. The sensation of it was like you were swimming toward a tide break, desperate for oxygen that felt an infinite number of lengths away whilst battling the currents of time like they were rips in the ocean waves.

Reaching the destination had never been the issue, it had always been the disappearance, the blinker of your essence as you faded into oblivion for what felt like minutes to only return to your husband hours, days, or even weeks later.

No one understood it. Prythian had never been graced with a traveller before you, even Helion and Thesan had researched endlessly but returned to Rhys empty handed. All he wanted was to help you to control it, he knew the mental toll it often took on you considering how you sometimes travelled to the darkest of places and memories, most of which were never your own.

Nights had come and gone where he would have to cradle you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear whilst you cried from the nightmares that plagued you; of bloody battlefields and torture, both of which you'd have to endure until the Mother decided to send you back to your mate who was waiting for you in Velaris.

Rhys had always been fated to be yours, you were certain of it.

The pair of you had grown up together thanks to Cassian being your older brother by only a couple of minutes, he had been gifted the strength and agility of the gods whilst the Mother had sealed your fate long before you were both even conceived.

It had snapped for Rhys first, on your birthday 300 years ago. Mor had insisted upon throwing you and Cassian a joint surprise birthday party at the House of Wind, though she had told you that she had planned an intimate dinner for you all to make sure that you dressed as best as you could. As a thank you for everything you had done for them, from your incessant teasing to your bounding wisdom, Rhys had delved into his mothers trousseau and had hand-picked the most spectacular dress he or you had ever seen; though, he hadn't told you where he had gotten it, you were led to believe that he had it commissioned.

Rhys had kept it a secret from everyone, he didn't want to upset Cassian or ruin anything for you, he wanted it to snap for you on its own.

It only took a year for the bond to snap for you.

It had been one of the more warmer afternoons in Velaris, and you had been tending to the garden at the River House, planting your favourite shade of peonies into the earth when you felt the sensation. Cassian had returned to the garden to find that you had disappeared, leaving your tools buried in the soil and your scent drifting away in the breeze.

You had been transported to a shared memory, but the projection of your present-day body found itself stood behind Rhys, staring inward at the room buzzing with anticipation. Nerves were pouring from him as he fidgeted in his spot, whisky in hand and swirling it every moment his attention wasn't stolen by a passer-by muttering a greeting to their High Lord.

It was a night you remembered very clearly, but you weren't there to live it again through your point of view, you had been taken there to see it through his.

Looking toward the large double doors of the House of Wind, you watched as they opened to reveal both you and Cassian arm in arm. Cassian was wearing his usual lax trousers and open collared shirt, hair styled into a low bun with strays falling over his face; and then there was you, and you watched Rhys inhale sharply as his eyes landed on your frame, scanning you from head to toe whilst joyous shock consumed your angelic features.

The dress he had gifted to you had certainly been the right choice, it accentuated each and every curve and line of your body, hugging your delicious hips and exposing just the right amount of skin. And your wings, gods, they had fluttered and rustled with every compliment directed at your from a room teeming with whispers. The garment was the shade of newly born starlight, a cascade of fine diamonds had been sewn into the skirt and they flowed downward like lazy ocean waves at sunset. Light bounced off of you, your skin held a certain shimmer to it and the warm faelight was making you glow.

The brightest star in a sea of darkness. Everything felt dim in comparison.

It felt as though you were on the first row at the theatre, enthralled in the emotions of the moment; you examined Rhys closely, how his eyes trailed down your body and then to your face, and then they widened, and he stumbled backward, his fingers floating over that particular spot on his chest whilst the past version of you was none the wiser from her spot on the other side of the room, laughing and thanking Mor for all of the effort she had put in to make your birthday as special as possible.

As though you could see the golden thread winding itself around you, Rhys muttered a singular word to himself, a word that made your heart clench in its cage

Mate.

That night was just over a year ago. Why hadn't he said anything?

Before you could fathom an answer, you felt your essence be pulled back to the present, and you landed in the main living area of the River House feeling confused and conflicted, and betrayed to a degree.

Within moments Rhys was on you, standing at your side whilst your gaze bore into the ground, he could see your mind reeling, replaying whatever you had seen from whichever moment you had been taken to. The sky had grown dark beyond the window, telling you that the day had scurried by whilst you had been kidnapped by your power.

"Hey, hey, hey," Rhys cooed to you, trying to gently pull your mind away from the memory or future, "Where did you go, darling?"

Your brows twitched with every thought that flew through you and Rhys turned your body to face his own, resting his large hands on your arms and rubbing his thumbs softly against the skin he found there, lowering his eyeline to yours to try and capture your gaze.

Then you peered up at him, eyes colliding with pools of violet serenity, and it snapped, your own thread dancing outward to meet the end that had longed for it for so long and you gasped when it found its marker, "When were you going to tell me?"

Knowing what you meant due to the opening of the bond, Rhys' expression faltered, but he held onto you tighter, "I wanted you to find out on your own. The bond is a beautiful thing. I just wanted it to snap for you when you were ready."

Rhys' fingers reached for an escaped strand of hair, delicately tucking it behind your rounded ear in a way that made your wings shiver, "You've lied to me for twelve months."

He cringed, his fingers retracting from the shell of your ear, "It was more like avoiding the truth," you gave him a pointed stare, "Which I know isn't good enough. I'm sorry, y/n."

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you hadn't wondered what a life with Rhys would look like, the High Lord was the most stunning male you had ever seen, and the way he carried himself in front of you and others was so alluring to the point that you often thought of him when you were alone in the confinements of your bedroom. Rhys had always respected you, he had always held a certain tone of humour with you that neither Cassian or Azriel were privy to, and he had always been the one to look out for you the most.

Despite being very well aware of your tactical prowess, Rhys did all he could to avoid sending you on missions, and when he did send you away, it was often on his behalf to other courts, he knew they adored you just as much as he did so much so that you would never truly be in any real danger.

"Say something. Please."

Worry had infected his bones at the possibility that you may not want him, and the longer you stood saying nothing the more tense he became, "My head hurts," and it did, not just from the information, but from the anguish travelling brought upon your body; Rhys knew that little fact better than anyone considering he often tended to you afterward.

A hand rested on the side of your face, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, "Let me look after you," Rhys visibly relaxed when you nodded, exhaustion settling into you and coursing down the bond.

Sweeping you into his arms, Rhys rested his cheek atop your head, inhaling the lavender of your shampoo as he carried you through the house that he had permanently moved into to be closer to you; he paced up the stairs and into your bedroom, laying you onto the pristine white sheets before finding his place beside you and pulling your body flush against his.

Lazily, you traced your fingers over his clothed chest, drawing small circles and tendrils over his heart, "What did you see?" Rhys asked you, his breath caressing your forehead and his digits curling into your hair in the way he knew brought you untold relief.

"Our birthday last year but from your point of view," your voice paused for a moment as you recounted the images in your mind, you craned your head upward to meet his nervous gaze like he knew that all it would take for his dreams to burn would be the mere action of you pulling away from him, "I saw how you looked at me from across the room when the bond snapped for you, I felt the air shift in a way. You were looking at me like I was the brightest star in the Prythian skies."

A ghosting smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, your voice was soft, void of any anger. Rhys dragged his thumb across your lips, resting it at the dimple in your cheek, "You are." Rhys' eyes drifted over your face, drinking in the fine lines of happiness that had embedded themselves at the corners of your eyes, "You are the star which points to home. You are my homeland, y/n. I think that you always have been."

Watching your gaze soften, he had to ask you, "Does the idea of me disgust you? The idea of us?"

A furrowed brow greeted him, but you shook your head softly, your cheek rubbing against the silk of his shirt, "How can I look away now that I have seen you?" Reaching to brush your fingers against his jaw, eye sparkling and brimming with the silent permission he had been waiting for.

In one swift but gentle motion, Rhys rolled you onto your back, cupping your face in his hands and hovering his lips a whisker away from your own. His breath fanned across your face, it was warm but heavy, he was overthinking it and what it would mean, but nothing would stop him from claiming you. Not even Cassian.

You pulled his eyes to meet yours, dragging him from the thoughts that plagued him, and like you were a spring in eons of desert, Rhys drank. Connecting his lips to yours was something he had only allowed himself to dream of, but nothing could have prepared him for how you tasted. Honeysuckle and sea salt, with the slightest hint of sweet spice. Rhys couldn't stop himself from deepening the embrace, running his tongue along your bottom lip and then darting it into your parted mouth, exploring every inch you would allow him to whilst curling the fingers of his free hand around your hip, his other resting at the back of your head.

Reluctantly, Rhys created a space between your lips, feeling himself losing control of his body the longer he was connected to you; he watched closely as your chest rose and fell in quick succession, the curve of your breasts grazing against his shirt and lips sinfully swollen from the onslaught of his adoration for you. He found his place beside you once more, pulling you to him so that your head rested on his chest, "Rest now. We can face the world tomorrow."

What you wouldn't give to go back to that moment. Everything had been so much simpler then. The new nerves and the oncoming anger from Cassian had been the only negativity in your world, though, your twin had taken the news much better than you had expected, he had only beaten Rhys once before the happiness for you had taken over.

If you were going to be mated to anyone, at least it was to the person who doted you and protected you at all costs.

It didn't take long until he was asking when the first babe would arrive.

It wasn't like you didn't want children with Rhys, it had been a topic that made you both excited, but you were also very happy with one another so had decided to not explicitly try for a babe, but if it happened then you would both be overjoyed. It took of mounds of pressure from your shoulders.

The mating ceremony itself had been beautiful, Rhys had truly spared no expense on the intimate ceremony where he had also sworn you in as High Lady of the Night Court in front of your family, and he had cried nearly as hard as Cassian when you saw you walking down the aisle in the dress that you knew belonged to his mother, the same one he had seen you in when the bond had snapped for him with some minor alterations, that being a lace veil that clipped into each loosely wound braid of your hair and matching gloves that kisses above your elbows.

The Inner Circle had succumb to the possibility that they wouldn't see you both for at least a month afterward. You were far too radiant for Rhys to allow from his sight, not only as his newly wedded wife, but also as his High Lady and the future mother of his children. You were exquisite.

Centuries passed and your love and devotion toward one another never waned, if anything it only grew, and you didn't think it possible that you could love anything else more than Rhys, and you were right.

There wasn't a single moment of the day where you didn't want to rip his clothes off and have him fuck you until you couldn't form coherent words, and he was always happy to oblige you. No matter what he was doing, whether working through stacks of paperwork in his office with hair messed from raking his fingers through it or relaxing in the living area after a long day, if you entered his space with that feline speck in your eye, he would be the one throwing everything aside to be pulling those mewls from your lips.

It was a love that Prythian would never see again, a love it would always search for and wither when it couldn't be found.

What you'd give to go back to that. Back to the time before Amarantha happened.

You remembered the feeling as though it happened only yesterday, the tidal wave of love and regret and sorrow, a pleading tsunami that you returned with your own, and you could almost see his sad smile, drowning in that feeling for a heartbeat longer before the bond went cold. Cassian and Azriel had burst into the room after hearing your screams all the way from the training ring at the House of Wind, finding you balled up atop the cold ground sobbing and clutching at the skin where your heart lay.

Azriel had moved to you first, his arms wrapping around your body and shadows peppering your tear-stained cheeks, he coaxed your ire from you, freezing as you told him that the bond had gone cold. It had only taken a few minutes for him to piece it together, of Amarantha no doubt trapping him below the mountain and him playing along in order to protect his court, his home, his y/n.

It had taken weeks for you to rise from the ashes of your bedroom, you had refused to move from the sheets that held his scent deep within them. But you were the High Lady of the Night Court, and Amren was struggling to lead the court on her own. Throwing yourself into your tripled duties was all that you could do, if Rhys ever came home, then that home had to be healthy and flourishing.

The citizens of Velaris pitied you more than they mourned the absence of their High Lord, you were the image of despair, pallid skin and a certain voidness to you usually bright eyes, though it didn't stop you from ruling over the court whatsoever. The only time when you would break would when you would be alone, and Cassian and Azriel couldn't allow you to wither away any longer so moved you into the House of Wind, leaving your once perfect home abandoned.

Before you knew it, 50 years had drawled by, 50 years without your mate and best friend. Life had tried to curl around you gracefully, to will you back into some form of enjoyment, and Azriel had coaxed you to accept the hand offered to you, so you did, but there wasn't a single moment that came and went that you didn't think of Rhys and what he was enduring Under The Mountain.

"Cassian, have you been to Windhaven lately? I need an update on the wing clipping laws we put in place." You entered the study, your pale blue dress dragging behind you from the pace of your steps, the crown growing heavy on your head.

It had always been something you and Rhys had spoken of, banning the archaically brutal practice of wing clipping in Illyria. Once upon a time you had almost been one of those young girls, pinned to the ashen soil with a blade a feathers touch away from taking the most sacred part of you. Luckily it never happened, and you had Cassian, Azriel and Rhys to thank for it.

Not looking up from the reports in your fingers, "Cass?" you gritted, too exhausted to deal with his silence. You had disappeared again that day, it had happened much more frequently over the last 50 years without Rhys by your side, but you weren't allowed to rest when you would return, there was always too much to do. "Cassian." Finally you looked up, finding your twin leaning against your desk with a shit-eating grin on his face and puffy eyes, "Are you going to answer me within the next two working minutes or shall I just go to Windhaven myself?"

"Oh how I have missed that voice."

Frozen in place, you felt your heartbeat rattle in your chest at that voice, the voice that haunted every moment you lived no matter if you were sleeping or walking the city aimlessly. Needing some form of confirmation you looked up to Cassian, your bottom lip wobbling when he nodded once at you and leaned back.

Then you felt him, his hands on your hips and nose grazing the curve of your shoulder, those two things alone making the reports in your fingers float to the floor. His chest met your back, his arms wound around your midsection, "Tell me that I'm not travelling right now."

A chuckle rumbled within the chest behind you, his lips pressed dainty kisses to your exposed skin, "I'm here. It's real."

A sob fell from your mouth and you turned in his arms, you buried your head into the nape of his neck and cried, and you felt bad for it, you weren't the one trapped in that place, but part of you had wished that you had been.

At some point during your crying and Rhys shushing you softly with his fingers running through your hair, Cassian had left the room, closing the door on his exit to give you both the privacy you so desperately needed. Another few moments passed and Rhys pulled away slightly, creating a small space between you so that he could hold your face in his hands and know that it was all real, that everything he had endured had been worth it just to have that moment.

"You look exhausted, my love," his thumbs caressed the skin of your slightly hallowed cheeks, his face lowering to level with your own. He didn't look much better than you did, his eyes were darkened with the things he had seen, his skin rough and pallid from the lack of sun, fine lines of worry and anguish ran along his forehead, "Cassian told me that you've been running this court on your own," he told you with a gentle smile, knowing how difficult it must have been for you to rule without him, to take on that load and also deal with your gift, "You've done so well, darling. I'm so lucky to have you."

Rhys pressed his lips to your forehead like a mother would a babe, loving and certain, and you couldn't help but sob again at the words and his touch, "I thought I wasn't going to see you again. I thought you had left me forever. When the bond went cold, and I couldn't feel you, I thought-"

"Hey. Don't think that. There is no reality where I wouldn't return to you, y/n," he rested his fingers at the base of your neck, relishing at the touch of your skin beneath his fingertips, "You are the only thing that kept me alive down there," his eyes glassed over, replaying memories he would soon rather forget, "I couldn't look into your eyes, but they were all I thought about. I memorised your face long ago, but it was a mirror for me there, or a prayer I had to recite nightly to make me remember who was waiting for me. I told you that you are my homeland, I will always come back to you."

Tears rolled down both of your cheeks when he kissed you, so full of need but also so hesitant, it was tender and light and warm, and you felt the floodgates of your bond crash open, your heart fighting against the tide of his relief and exhaustion, of his love and regret.

"But right now, I would like to bathe with my wife, and hold her until we both fall asleep. That's all I want, to hold you. Can we do that? Please?"

You had never been able to say no to Rhys and you weren't about to start, not when his eyes were weary and heavy with the turmoil of being away from you for so long, for witnessing and taking part in the acts that he had.

Carefully, you took his hand in yours, entwining your fingers and kissing his knuckles, "Of course we can," a gentle tug from you spurred him to move, and you led him through the House of Wind to your private chambers, mumbling to him that sleeping in your shared rooms had been too painful.

The tub was already steaming by the time you entered the bathroom, candles were lit and the window showed the golden valley you both adored so much as well as the snow-capped mountains. A once sultry act of undressing one another held a new meaning, you stripped one another bare with the upmost of care, taking time to touch one another as if you'd blink and it would all be gone.

Rhys lowered himself into the water first, almost groaning at the lavender soak that seeped into his muscles, and he held a hand out to you, positioning himself perfectly to accommodate you between his legs and running his fingers along the membrane of the wings you had done your best to tuck away.

"I love you so much," he kissed the glistening skin on your shoulder, trailing his lips from the spot up to the shell of your ear, and he smiled into your hair when you returned the sentiment, kissing his open palms and drowning in his power.

It didn't take long for exhaustion to settle within both of you, and once it had, Rhys lifted you from the tub and wasted no time in drying you and pulling one of his shirts over your head, pecking your nose once it was secured around your frame and nestling into bed with you for the most tranquil nights sleep he had gotten in 50 years.

It had taken Rhys a few weeks to feel comfortable enough to be intimate with you, he had never given you a reason, but you knew why. There had been many rumours of Amarantha's whore, and you could only imagine how he was feeling. Whether he didn't wish to admit it to you for fear of embarrassment or judgement, you weren't really sure, but you would never push him. Everything had to be done when he was ready and he alone.

You'd wait an eternity if that's what your mate needed.

Settling back into life in Velaris had been strange for him, he didn't know a single thing that had gone on in his court during his absence, but you walked him through it all. From your detailed reports, Rhys realised just how much love you had poured into his, your, city; orphanages had opened in the city offering education to the less fortunate, you had cracked down on the barbaric act of wing clipping so much so that there were very few cases reported in the last three years, and you had funded so many projects that would better the lives of all, from art galleries and theatres to community gardens, the Night Court was undeniably thriving.

"How have you accomplished all of this?" Rhys had asked you one morning as he scanned over all of the reports, flitting through the pages in wonder.

You had nervously picked at the skin around your nails at the question, "In all honesty I never really stopped working," his gaze met yours and he softened, opening his arms to you and pulling you into his lap, "I was scared that if I stopped doing all of this," you motioned to the papers littering the desk, "That the weight of your absence would consume me. I wanted to make you proud."

"I'll always be proud of you, my incredible mate and wife. You are amazing. Truly."

The darkness still gathered beneath his eyes, more nights than not you'd be awakened from slumber by his nightmares, and you would rise immediately to hold him, to remind him of where he was and that she was gone. It was clear that he didn't wish to burden you with the details, as usual, he was protecting you.

After a couple of months, Rhys felt like he was back to his old self, his usual banter with his brothers was rife and he was spending a lot more quality time with you whenever he had the opportunity. Everything had felt peaceful.

Until it wasn't.

The feeling you hadn't been consumed by since the day of his return had slowly settled in your gut, clawing and tearing at your essence, but it felt more sinister, like it wanted to ruin you. Crashing ceramic pulled Rhys from his book to see you in the doorway, your hands turning translucent and eyes full of terror as it travelled up your arms. Rhys was moving to you in an instant, trying to reach you before you disappeared entirely but he was too late, his fingers moving through you like you weren't even there.

It felt as though death itself had come to take you in that moment as you clawed your way to the surface.

You had landed in a place you didn't recognise, dark stone glistening with day old rain, hallways illuminated by lanterns and torches. The halls were wide, so tall that you felt tiny in comparison to them, and you knew where you were, where the Mother had decided to take you.

Under The Mountain.

A faint voice drifted through the air to you, pulling you toward it, and you followed the call, peaking into each room before you found the one where the sounds felt much more powerful. Though, nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness.

The room was dark, dressed in hues of black and wine red, faelight illuminated the walls lined with various dark artworks, a curved tub sat to the left, and in the centre was a large four poster bed, and on that bed was your husband and that creature of a woman you knew to be Amarantha.

Rhys' eyes were closed as he thrusted into her, his brow furrowed and face flashing with pain and remorse, you covered your mouth to conceal your gasp, forgetting that neither of them could see you. Amarantha lay beneath your husband, moaning and raking her talons down his spine, breaking the skin and grinning at the blood sweeping across her lips; her legs were wound around his waist, pushing him deeper into her with every rock of his hips.

"Tell me, Pet," she drawled, rolling him onto his back and sinking down on him, riding his cock and muffling her delight at the feeling, "How do you think your precious wife would feel if she knew what we did each night?" Rhys visibly tensed, "Do you think that she would still love you? Do you think that she would still want to be wed to you?"

Everything within you was telling you to look away, but you couldn't.

It was a question that Rhys couldn't answer, mostly because he didn't want to think about what you would do if you knew, which was the reason why he hadn't told you.

Tears streaked down your face, dripping onto the stone cold floor with every roll of her hips, "Who would want to be wedded to a cheating whore?" Amarantha's talon dragged down the column of his throat, "Do you not think that she deserves so much better than a male who would allow this?"

A moment of silence passed from Rhys, a silence that was filled with her moans as she neared her release, "Yes, I think that she does."

The words broke your heart, that your mate truly believed that you deserved better than what he had done, the things she had made him do. Each night she tormented him, made him submit to her against his will, and told him that you wouldn't want him when she was done.

With that soul-tearing admittance, Amarantha's movements jolted around him, her talons tugged at her hair as her moans climbed and she rode out her release, and once she had slowed, she wasted no time in removing herself from your mate and pulling a robe over her alabaster skin, smirking to him wordlessly before padding right past you on her exit.

It had all been to protect his home from her, and by extension, you. And that fact made you feel sick to your stomach, so sick that you felt the bile rising upward. Rhys had endured the unspeakable to protect his court and family, he knew what Amarantha would do if she got her hands on any of you, but it would be you who would suffer the most, and you knew that Rhys would stop at nothing to avoid that.

As soon as she was far enough away, you watched Rhys crumble; he perched on the edge of that large four poster bed with his head buried into his palms, loud, painful sobs causing his body to tremble and quake. His pain roared through him, "I love you," you rushed to him, you tried to reach for him but your fingers passed right through his body that was covered by a thin onyx sheet, "I love you," he repeated but more strained, he looked to the ceiling, his cheeks stained with his anguish and guilt, "I'm so sorry, darling. I'm so sorry."

"Rhys, please," your broken voice pleaded, but he couldn't hear you, no one ever could when you travelled, you were a simple bystander in these types of memories, "I love you."

The loud sobs of your mate continued, he wrapped his arms around himself, it had been the only thing to bring him comfort, and it was clear that he was imagining that it was you holding him and not himself. Rhys carried on apologising to the skies, hoping that his sincerity would reach you, hoping that you knew just how much he loved you and how much he would endure to keep you safe from her.

You weren't sure how long you knelt before him on that cold stone floor, telling him that everything would be alright, that no matter what happened you would never stop loving him whilst your own sobs broke your heart at the sight of your mate looking so defeated and worthless.

Only when that memory began to fade did you realise that the Mother was done with you, that she deemed you enlightened enough to return you to your home.

You landed with a thud, your knees crumpling beneath the weight of your body making you a blubbering mess on the floor. Marred hands found you instantly, shaking your shoulder softly until you found their owner, hazel pools of worry sketched over your face, his shadows frantically weaving between one another with panic. Sound had become muffled, like you were in a daze, you faintly knew that Azriel had called out to someone, likely telling them to fetch your husband as your focus honed in on him, "Where did you go, y/n?" Azriel had never looked so distressed, "You've been gone for three weeks."

Three weeks.

Rhys must have been going insane.

All you could do is cry and fall into his arms, the vision of your mate causing your body to shake, and Azriel folded you into his embrace, rubbing circles into your back, "I was Under The Mountain," you told him between sobs and he froze, like he knew what you had seen, "I'm going to throw up."

Another presence entered the room and moved to the two of you, an angelic touch graced your lower back and a bowl appeared before you, her fingers tugged your hair from your face as you hunched over and emptied the contents of your stomach, "It's alright," Mor cooed to you, rubbing your back to ensure you had gotten out what you needed to, curtly telling Azriel to meet Rhys and Cassian before they entered and saw you in such a position.

Mor held you as you sobbed, your guilt eating you from the inside out from knowing that Rhys had endured all that pain and suffering and abuse to keep you all safe, to protect you from the devil incarnate.

It didn't take long for the doors to open once more, Rhys took one look at your coiled frame, and the bowl to your left, and strode over to you, sliding onto his knees and gathering you in his arms. Knowing you wouldn't be able to tell him what exactly it was that you saw, you felt him caress your mental shields, asking for permission to enter, and you allowed it, you allowed him to sift through the images and felt his grip tighten around you.

Rhys scooped you into his arms and didn't say a single word to anyone on your exit, he carried you to your shared bedroom at the House of Wind, the same place you had accepted the bond centuries prior, and settled you onto the edge of the bed, kneeling before you and kissing your knuckles.

"I'm sorry that she did that to you," tears flowed down your face, landing on the backs of his hands, "I'm sorry that you had to do that to protect us."

Surprise settled onto his face at your words, like he wasn't expecting anything of that nature to leave your lips, "I'm sorry that she made you believe that I wouldn't love you because of it. I do love you, more than you'll ever know. Nothing would ever be able to take me from you."

Rhys picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and perching on the space where you had been seated only moments before; he peered up at you, his eyes the lightest shade of violet you had ever seen them, "Don't apologise for something that wasn't your doing," he wiped your tears, "I would do it all again if it meant that you would be safe, I'd endure the most wicked of punishments to keep you healthy and alive."

"I don't want you to ever feel like that again."

"I won't. I'll never leave you, not until death finds me and even then I will cling onto life with everything I have left so that I'll be able to find you in the next. It's always been you, and it'll always be you. There is nothing that can take me from you, I would burn the world to ash if anyone ever tried it, do you hear me?"

Rhys knew how hard it had been for you even if you hadn't told him yourself. It had been Azriel who had confided in Rhys about your mental state over the years, how you struggled to sleep and that when you did you were haunted by his loss, how you had travelled more often and for longer periods of time than before and how you always returned to them exhausted and little more broken than the last time. Rhys had been told how hard the entire Inner Circle had to work to contain you, to make sure that you didn't journey to Under The Mountain yourself and get yourself tortured and killed right before his eyes.

Desperate to hear your voice, Rhys continued on, "You and I are entwined for eternity, my love. Our life is going to be full of wonder and joy, that is what we fight for. In 100 years when we have our own babe and a life of serenity, I'll know that everything we went through was worth it, to have a chance to create the life we always dreamed of, the life we spoke of before the bond snapped and we were just Rhys and y/n dreaming about the future."

Rhys' fingers ran through your hair, pulling all of the tension from your body in the exact way he knew that you needed, "Tell me how much you love me."

Your palms rested flat on his chest, his heartbeat thumping through the skin to feel you, and he smiled softly, "I love the way your skin feels beneath mine," his arms pulled you closer into his chest, his chin rested atop your breastbone and his eyes bore into yours, "I love the little noises you make in the night when you're getting comfortable, and the little content sighs when I wrap my arms around you. I love the sound of your voice and your laugh. I love your truth and wisdom, and how you've never been afraid to do what is right despite the consequences. The world bores me - it bores me and irritates me when I'm away from you. You're the only thing that makes this life worth living. I love you, I love you more than our insanely irritating family," a gentle laugh passed through your lips, and you sniffled, "I love you more than this court or my power, I love you more than life itself, because what is the meaning of life if you aren't in it?"

"Rhys?" He hummed in question, still staring deep into your soul, "Love me. Please." It was a whisper, one you weren't quite sure he had heard, but he nodded gentle and placed you onto your back, ensuring that there were enough pillows beneath your head before he lowered his lips to meet yours.

Rhys made sure that he showed you how much he adored you and everything that you had given him, his lips covering every inch of your skin in a night filled with passion and the purest or adoration. And, unbeknownst to either of you in that moment, it seemed that your collective dreams were going to come true a lot sooner than you thought.

Author's Note

Brb crying x

(Also happy 1k followers besties, my first Rhysie fic is here for the occasion)

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Mafia! BTS - They Are the Rival Boss Who Likes You (pt. 2)

Summary: You were in an abusive relationship with your ex-boyfriend who was also in a gang. At a benefit, you run into M/N, your boyfriend's rival, whose mind has been on you since he met you. He helps you escape and takes you to the safety of his apartment.

Warnings: mentions of abusive relationship, but mostly trauma recovery

PART 1

A/N: Without a doubt, the softest thing I have ever written. All of the members' Y/Ns are different though. They have different degrees of trauma and different ways of dealing with it.

I planned to post this days ago but I just couldn't do Jimin and Taehyung's part. I don't know why but I always struggle writing them the most, especially Taehyung ... His character gives me shivers, honestly, in the best way.

Let me know if I should do a part 3.

***

Jin

Although Jin asked if you were hungry, you did not have an appetite in the least. You asked to take a shower however, and Jin lent you some of his clothes to change into. You put on his sweatpants that you needed to roll up at the bottom and a knitted, white cashmere sweater softer than anything you had ever felt before in your life.

The rain only grew stronger outside when you returned to the living area finding Jin by the window, his hands stuck in the pockets of his trousers. He was in deep thought before he noticed you were back.

"How are you feeling?" asked Jin.

"Better," you nodded. The hot shower helped you calm down some although it also made you exponentially more tired.

"How are you?" you asked Jin in turn. He looked at you.

"Good," Jin nodded softly, a small smile on his lips. He could see the tiredness in your eyes and the yawns that you desperately tried to suppress but failed.

"You should try and get some rest," said Jin reassuringly and showed you to the guest bedroom.

Once you you wished Jin goodnight, you climbed into the bed eagerly and pulled the covers over you. The walls of the room were a shade of grey so pale it was almost blue, with a white ceiling and a matching carpet. The bed had an ornate white frame in the same style as the vanity table and the closets along the wall. You only managed to look yourself in the mirror for a moment when brushing your teeth, feeling almost disgusted with yourself. You could not believe you asked Jin for help and asked him to expose himself. It was a moment of desperation, you knew, but it did not make you feel anything better - or helped you fall asleep any faster.

It was only towards dawn that exhaustion took you and you managed to get a couple of hours of good sleep, but for most of the night, your mind could produce nothing but nightmares. You dreamed of Kang, of your family, and even of Jin. Yet even though you did not sleep much, you still felt better when you rolled out of bed in mid-morning.

You could hear the movement in the kitchen when you opened the door of the guest bedroom. You did not know why but you tiptoed down the hallway, slowly peeking into the kitchen. Jin was at the counter cutting up some fruit, a pot of French press getting ready. He was wearing a pale blue shirt and black trousers, an elegant wristwatch shinning on his hand.

Jin could feel your gaze on him, having heard the door of your bedroom open.

"Good morning," said Jin when he saw you half-leaning, half-hiding behind the wall of the hallway that opened into the kitchen one the one side and living area on the other.

"Morning," you said quietly as you joined Jin in the kitchen.

"Do I ... I can I help with anything?" you asked, feeling completely useless.

"It's okay," smiled Jin. "There's coffee."

You nodded and uttered a small 'thank you', your eyes drifting to the dining table. It was sat beautifully with napkins, little bowls, cups and glasses.

"Cream, sugar?" asked Jin as he poured you some French press. You stared at him.

"Why are you so kind to me?" you found yourself asking. The pang of guilt you have been feeling was no longer just a pang but a heavy mass that weighed on your chest.

Jin leaned his long arms against the counter, the smile leaving his eyes beneath a forming frown.

"Why did you even help me?" you asked almost desperately. Your eyes filled with tears suddenly and you hated yourself for it.

"You asked me," said Jin somberly, staring down at you.

"But I shouldn't have!" you cried, wiping away your tears that kept on falling. "You should have said no ..."

"What are you talking about?" asked Jin astounded. He took your palm and squeezed your fingers in his hand reassuringly.

"If something happened to you for helping me ..." you shook your head, hiding your eyes behind your free hand as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

Jin watched you, taken back by your words. His heart weighed heavy in his chest to see you cry.

"I should have never gotten you into this," you whispered once you managed to calm down a little. "You're the only friend I got."

Jin tugged on your hand gently and pulled you to him, his arms wrapping around your body. You did not know how to react at first but your hands soon found their way around Jin's shoulders as you curled up against his chest.

"You didn't get me into anything, Y/N," said Jin definitively. "You got yourself out of something."

You nodded as you pulled away, trying to wipe away the tear stains but Jin beat you to it. His large hands cupped your face as he brushed away your tears with his thumbs and made you look up at him.

"Now ... Cream, sugar?" Jin smiled warmly.

Namjoon

You looked around the living area whilst Namjoon disappeared to get you some clothes to change into. His place was very different from what you expected by the look of him. Although in truth, you knew the problem was that you did not know him at all. The thought made you nervous and yet not as nervous as what your night, your life with Kang would have been like if you had not left with Namjoon tonight.

Your eyes skimmed over the books on the shelves, the magazines and newspapers on the coffee table. It was raining outside, millions of drops gliding down the window-wall that opened into an atrium with a small tree. It was pleasant inside, however, with the soft carpet beneath your feet and plants from orchids to bonsai everywhere you looked.

You thought Namjoon would live in a tall skyscraper and yet the drive took you to the outskirts of the city, to a short apartment building. You turned back to the atrium and frowned, wondering whether he owned the entire building.

"Here," said Namjoon, waking you from your thoughts. You jumped around, your eyes on the clothes Namjoon was offering you.

"Everything I have is going to be too big on you," said Namjoon with a small shake of his head as he licked his lips.

"That's fine," you breathed, grateful. It would have been enough if he simply dropped you off somewhere. You could hardly believe that you were even in his home.

"You didn't ..." you began voicing a horrible thought that appeared in your mind but stopped yourself when Namjoon's eyes met yours. Your lips parted yet you could not make yourself say it.

"What?" encouraged Namjoon.

"Nothing," you shook your head as your mouth went dry.

"What?" insisted Namjoon, his dark eyes forcing the answer from you as his brows furrowed into a frown. You clutched the clothes closer to your chest, your fists balling around the soft material of the hoodie and sweatpants he gave you.

"I just ..." you tried again, feeling as if you had swallowed a ball of sand. "Are you helping me to get revenge on Kang?"

The answered scared you. Even if Namjoon was only using you to get ahead of Kang and to spite him, there was very little you could do about it. Once caught up in this world, it was impossible to get out. You were just Namjoon's plaything. And it would explain why he brought you to his apartment and not simply dropping you off at a station or something.

Your heart was thumping hard against your throat as heat prickled on your neck.

Namjoon stared at you for a moment, a moment that seemed to you to last forever although it was barely a few seconds. He turned away and let out a short breath before he licked his lips and his dark eyes returned to you.

"It would be outrageous if I liked you, wouldn't it?" said Namjoon serenely as if he were only thinking out loud, his voice quiet but deep.

It took you a moment to realize it was not serenity Namjoon spoke with but disillusionment. Your lips parted but his words had knocked you out of air.

A loud thunder echoed through the air, making you wince as you looked over your shoulder and into the stormy night air. But as you returned your attention on Namjoon, he was already making for the kitchen.

You hurried, catching up to him when Namjoon suddenly turned around. You had to take a step back to be able to look up at him, a flush of hot fever rushing to your cheeks.

"You like me?" you breathed, your chest rising and falling heavily as your eyes locked with his. You could not tell what Namjoon was thinking but there was a storm of thoughts behind his eyes.

A small, almost invisible breath escaped Namjoon's lips before he turned around, reaching for the teapot.

"Wait," you reached for Namjoon's hand instead. His dark eyes followed your touch back to your eyes. "Please talk to me," you begged in a whisper, tears threatening to creep into your eyes.

Namjoon studied you before he leaned down closer to you.

"I like you," said Namjoon quietly, his chest rumbling with the deepness of his voice. His eyes radiated a warmth you had never known before. Suddenly, all of the times you saw Namjoon at all of those benefits and fundraisers came flooding right back to you: the warm smiles hiding in his eyes, the nods, and the hellos, when he talked to you - how he talked to you ...

"You like me?" you exhaled incredulously.

The warmth inside Namjoon's eyes swirled with amusement as he breathed a smile, this time managing to reach for the teapot. He could feel your gaze on his back as he poured water into the kettle, the smile on his lips growing.

You were too stunned to speak, certain that he would dismiss your assumptions and not confirm them. You did not know how you felt about Namjoon, you hardly knew him; but you could definitely feel the butterflies in your stomach.

You managed to take a shower and wash the makeup off your face before changing into the clothes Namjoon lent you. He was right too; you had to roll up the cuffs of the sweatpants whilst his hoodie fell to the middle of your thighs. You did not mind though, grateful to get out of the evening dress you wore before.

You found Namjoon in the living room, his back to you as he spoke on the phone, holding a tall cup of tea between the tips of his fingers. You leaned against the arch that opened into the living area, waiting for him to finish the conversation. Namjoon had heard you coming and ended the phone call, his gaze rising from your toes up to your eyes as he saw you in his clothes.

Your heart began beating faster in your chest as blood rushed to your cheeks.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, referring to Namjoon's phone call.

"Everything is alright," confirmed Namjoon and made his way over to you. Although the phone call was Yoongi who called him with news of Kang's rage and promises of revenge, Namjoon wouldn't dream of telling you. You were upset enough as it was.

Namjoon did not have to tell you though. You had become frighteningly good at noticing even the smallest signs of tension in the past months and you could see it in Namjoon's broad shoulders.

"He knows I'm here, doesn't he?" you asked quietly. Your eyes prickled with tears but you looked away. You were so tired of crying.

Your gaze rose to Namjoon's when he did not say anything.

"Doesn't he?" you whispered to keep your voice from breaking. Namjoon's eyes watched you, a parting in his lips as he realized he could not lie to you, not when you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

"He knows."

"I should—"

"You don't have to worry about it. I'll handle it," Namjoon cut you off immediately. He would not hear it.

"But—"

"Y/N, I'll handle it," decided Namjoon, giving you no space to argue. Your eyes studied his face but he was unwavering in his decision.

You had no choice but to nod although it only made the tears spill from your eyes as your chin quivered. It was all too much: Kang, the benefit, the escape, rolling all of this responsibility on Namjoon ...

"I'm sorry," you whispered hiding your eyes behind your hand.

"Don't apologize," said Namjoon sternly. "Not for this." His arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you closer, his hand holding your head to his chest as you began to sob. You wanted to apologize a thousand times but Namjoon did not want your apologies; there was nothing to apologize for. He only wanted to hold you and make sure you were safe.

Yoongi

You looked around the apartment warily whilst Yoongi went to get you some clothes to change into as you were still wearing the evening gown. You took a step closer the wall stacked with hundreds upon hundreds of vinyl records. You read some of the tiny titles scribbled on their sides when Yoongi suddenly reappeared behind you.

"I was just looking," you said quickly, making sure he knew you did not touch any of his things.

Yoongi looked at you. "You don't have to just look," he said, gesturing at the record player sitting near the window. You followed his gaze.

"Oh," you breathed. "That's okay." A small smile came to rest on your lips.

Yoongi handed you a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft black hoodie. You thanked him, holding the clothes to your chest.

You could not believe the reality of your situation or what made you agree to do this in the fist place. You may have spoken to Min Yoongi a couple of times before but in truth you did not know him at all and the thought frightened you.

Yoongi showed you around the apartment to break the uncomfortable silence. He opened the door of the bathroom, gestured to his bedroom at the end of the hallway and showed you to the guest bedroom. Yoongi held the door open for you to enter. You hesitated, not catching on to his gesture and waiting for him to enter first.

Yoongi's dark eyes waited on you. You glanced at him.

"Oh," was all that came from your mouth before you quickly scurried inside. The walls were a deep colour neither grey nor green with white wooden lining and a light ceiling that brightened the room. There was cherry blossom in the vase on the nightstand and a large bed with cozy pillows and blankets in the shades of beige against one of the walls.

"I can stay here?" you asked carefully, not wanting to take anything for granted. It was hard enough for you to believe that anyone would go up against Kang for anything, much less to help you.

"It's yours," said Yoongi, leaning against the door frame. "I will let you get changed," he said before you could thank him. He closed the door quietly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your body sinking into the soft mattress. You held Yoongi's clothes close to you as if they were a pillow. They smelled of laundry detergent and the beautiful fragrance he always wore. You closed your eyes but shouldn't have because your eyes spilled with hot tears and your chest was heavy with sobs that you would not let Yoongi to hear. You weren't sure why you were crying; was it relief or fear or both or nothing at all, but a part of it was all of the stress and anxiety that built up inside of you over the past months.

You changed into the clothes Yoongi gave you whilst still calming yourself down some. You slipped into the bathroom unnoticed and washed your face. One look at your make up and he would have know you had been crying. Yoongi knew anyway though from the redness of your eyes and the tone of your voice.

"Are you hungry?" asked Yoongi and opened the door of his fridge. It was always stacked with food although he almost never ate at home.

"I'm okay," you said genuinely as you leaned against the counter. You could not possibly have anything to eat in that moment.

Yoongi closed the fridge, his ink black eyes turning to you. His clothes were too big on you but he figured they were more comfortable than in the stunning dress you wore.

"I can make you some tea," suggested Yoongi and took a step closer, seeing the restlessness in your eyes.

"It's okay," you spoke quietly, using much self-control not to take a step back. "Thank you," you found yourself saying at last. "For everything."

"You don't need to thank me for anything," said Yoongi, uninterested in your gratitude.

"But I do," you insisted and your eyes watered again. You hated yourself for crying so much but you could not control it. Just the thought of what tonight might have been like for you, if Kang lost control like he did before the benefit ... What tomorrow would have been like and every day that followed if you had not managed to get away from him.

"You don't," said Yoongi again and yet his expression softened when he saw you like this. "You should get some rest," he said gently.

You nodded as he walked you to the guest bedroom. You hesitated before you went in.

"I saw you have sleeping pills in the bathroom," you began, threading lightly. "Would it be okay if I had one?"

"Of course," agreed Yoongi and brought you a glass of water.

"You don't have to ask me this," said Yoongi as you took the sleeping pill. "Anything you need, it's yours." You stared at Yoongi with the glass in your hand. He took it, his fingers brushing against yours, making your skin tingle.

"Thank you," you said again but Yoongi gave no sign of recognizing your gratitude. He would not accept it because in his mind's eye everything he did for you and everything you needed was a given.

You said your good-nights before you closed the door behind you and climbed into bed. You surrounded yourself with pillows, and although your mind was screaming with thoughts and emotions that made your tears soak the covers beneath your head, the sleeping pill was even stronger than you anticipated. You fell into a deep slumber, sleeping for nearly fourteen hours without waking.

Yoongi could barely sleep at all however. He had half a mind to take the sleeping pill himself but he needed himself alert. So instead, Yoongi lay in bed thinking and staring at the ceiling. He could not have cared less about Kang or the rivalry or any of it; his mind always only drifted off to you.

Yoongi would get up every couple of hours and quietly open the door to your bedroom only enough to see that you were alright and sound asleep.

Yoongi came to check on you one last time after he managed to get a couple of hours of sleep himself. Morning was already piercing into view on the horizon when he glanced into your room. He pushed the door open quietly and fixed the comforter over you as it was almost on the floor. Your body sought the warmth in your sleep when the comforter was drawn over you once again and your arms wrapped around it, hugging it close. A small sigh escaped your lips when Yoongi brushed a stray lock of hair from your eyes. He could hear the sound of his own heart ringing in his ears at how beautiful you looked. It took all the strength in him to peel himself away from your side and to not caress your cheek, which could cause you to wake. He did not even want to imagine the look on your face if you found him in your room when you woke. You were already anxious enough because of Kang.

The thought of that man made Yoongi's blood boil. He closed the door of your bedroom gently although the anger he was feeling could have him slam them to the point of breaking.

Yoongi took a long shower to clear his mind and wake him up properly. Kang knew you were with Yoongi and he promised an all-out war. Yoongi could not help but smile to himself as hot water poured down his body. He would enjoy every minute of destroying Kang. He thought about it still even as he got dressed, his wrath fueled even more each time he remembered your bruise and the way Kang must have been treating you.

Yoongi exited his bedroom so deep in thought he almost collided with you, who also just came out of your room. Yoongi's eyes went wide as he steadied you by the shoulders, the scent of your perfume that still lingered on your skin from last night triggering goosebumps on his arms, but it was nothing compared to your small hands resting against his chest.

You stared at Yoongi in his black t-shirt and his black trousers as caught off guard as he was.

"Sorry," you said quickly and took a step back.

Compared to last night, you were more rested than ever. You could not even recall when you last had such a good night's sleep, having slept next to a person you did not trust and did not want anymore for weeks.

"I'm sorry for last night too," you began. Yoongi looked at you surprised. "I wasn't myself; I was tired and I was scared ... And I just ... I really wanted to thank you for everything," you confessed as you bit the inside of your lip.

"Y/N—"

"Please, Yoongi, I just ..." you cut him off but did not know how to put it in words. Yoongi's face softened even more than you thought possible hearing the sound of his name roll off your tongue.

"I just ..." you tried again but there were no words that you could find. Instead, you stepped on the tips of your toes and reached your hands around Yoongi's neck as you pulled him into a tight hug. He froze for a moment, before his arms locked around the middle of your back, his face burying in your neck.

"Thank you," you whispered again and found that this time Yoongi did not protest.

Hoseok

Jung took you to his apartment in the city. The building was an enormously tall skyscraper with a doorman and security men posted at every corner. Your gaze traced their heavy guns as Hoseok led you to the elevator. The closer you got to your final destination, the more anxious you became and the adrenaline began to disappear. The reality of it all hit you like a ton of bricks, a thousand worries weighing down on your chest.

"He doesn't know where you live, does he?" you asked Jung carefully just before the elevator opened.

Hoseok placed his hand on the side of the door to let you pass in case it tried to close.

"Who?" asked Jung as you stepped out into the small, bright corridor. A couple of more men were posted there, making you nervous as your worried eyes returned to Jung.

"He doesn't," assured Hoseok when he saw the look in your eyes. "Even if he did, he would never make it past the lobby."

Jung typed in the security code and pressed his finger against the pad before the door opened.

"Come in."

You stepped inside warily, quickly looking for signs of anything out of the ordinary. But the apartment was beautiful. The hallway opened into a spacious living area that lead to the kitchen and dining room. The walls were creamy and bright and decorated with artwork. There were bookshelves and plants and large windows that allowed for a view of the city, bringing life into the room.

You took off your heels, hesitating a little before entering the living area. It was all so clean and organized like something off a magazine or a Pinterest board.

"It's okay," said Hoseok, the tips of his fingers gently brushing against your shoulder blade.

You nodded. There was a strange warmth about Hoseok that you could not explain. Every instinct in your body trusted him although your mind and reason still needed some convincing. You barely knew him in truth.

Hoseok lent you some of his clothes to change into, a pair of cozy sweatpants and a soft t-shit your body got lost in. He asked if you were hungry or wanted anything else but you had no appetite. Your stomach was still in knots.

Hoseok showed you the guest bedroom where you could stay. The room was warm and inviting, with pale pistachio-green walls and a beige-white carpet that framed the bed, which was topped with pillows and blankets.

The sight of it all, how beautiful and inviting and warm it was, gave your chest a painful squeeze. You hated the tears that prickled your eyes but you could not help but ask,

"Why are you helping me?"

Your voice was soft but your brows gathered into a frown when you looked up at Hoseok. He seemed surprised by your question.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You barely know me," you found yourself whispering to keep your voice from cracking.

"I know enough," said Hoseok, who now frowned as well. You were taken back by how drastically his features could change from soft and inviting, to authoritative and pensive although there was still warmth you could recognize in his dark eyes.

"But how?" you asked quietly, your gaze locked with his. Hoseok looked away and licked his lips before his eyes returned to you.

"I have been keeping an eye on you," he confessed.

"Why?" you breathed, astonished and your brows raised. Hoseok did not say anything although his eyes spoke loudly enough for you to understand.

"My bedroom is just down the hall if you'll need anything," said Hoseok and tore his gaze away from yours. He turned around and made to leave, keeping the door of your bedroom cracked open.

You found yourself forgetting to breathe as you watched him leave. You sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed with emotions. Hand clutched over your chest, you tried to steady your breathing and ease the pain that assembled in your lungs. You tried to find some sleep but you only twisted and turned all night and waited for the morning to come.

You emerged from the room early in the morning, surprised to find Hoseok awake as well. What more, you found him dressed in a pair of elegant black trousers and a crisp white shirt, freshly shaven and showered, smelling like heaven. The entire hallway smelled like his bodywash, giving you goosebumps

You felt like you were in nothing more than a garbage bag compared to Hoseok although it was his Prada t-shirt you were wearing.

Hoseok looked up from his phone, feeling a pair of eyes on him. You blushed and hoped it did not show in the early morning light and with your hair let down.

"Awake already?" asked Hoseok, his morning voice soft and nothing short of warm as he was leaning against the kitchen counter. You nodded, still lingering in the narrow hallway, which opened into the kitchen and living area.

"Did you sleep well?"

You shook your head and joined him at the counter, sitting down on one of the chairs. "I couldn't keep my mind off things," you murmured, your voice soft and quiet in the morning hour. "How did you sleep?"

Something shifted in Hoseok's eyes when you asked him that. "I couldn't keep my mind off things either," he said unblinking, taking in your features: the sheet wrinkles on the side of your neck, the way you breathed softly with your sleepy eyes on his.

Hoseok looked away. He grabbed a large paper shopping bag that sat at his feet and placed it on the counter. They were clothes for you - only some basic items but you were too shocked to thank him.

"You went shopping?" you asked wide-eyed although it probably wasn't even seven in the morning and everything was still closed.

"No, I had someone bring them over," smiled Hoseok.

"I didn't go anywhere," he said after a moment, frowning at the thought of leaving you there all alone.

Hoseok could not sleep at night because his mind kept drifting off to you, sleeping in his apartment, in his guest bedroom down the hall. He thought about your conversation last night and how he handled it. Hoseok was determined to make up for it and ordered his personal assistant to find some clothes for you even if he had to wake the owner of the shopping center in the middle of the night. He wanted to make you comfortable by at least getting you some clothes of your own and some essentials you might need.

You watched Hoseok as a cloud of steam rose continuously from his coffee. You followed a strand of his hair that threatened onto his eyes. You reached over hesitantly, carefully catching the lock between your fingers and tucking it in its place.

Hoseok froze still as you did that, his dark eyes piercing through you as heat crept to your cheeks.

"Sorry," you whispered and crossed your arms again as you were leaning against the counter. Little did you know Hoseok's heart threatened to jump from his chest from racing so fast, and even less did he know that yours wanted to do the same.

Jimin

Jimin took you to his apartment in the city. The building was secured from top to bottom with security posted at every corner. The sight of the guards calmed you and made you anxious at the same time. You quickened your pace, your hand slipping into Jimin's instinctively. His sharp eyes snapped to you, his reaction making you realize what you were doing.

"Sorry," you said quickly, your eyes wide as you tried to take your hand back but Jimin would not let it go. Instead, his fingers intertwined with yours as you entered the elevator. You squeezed Jimin's hand subconsciously, your knee fidgeting beneath your elegant black dress. Your mind rushed in every direction with thoughts of Kang and the benefit at its centre. You wondered how long it took for him to notice that you were gone and that Park was gone too.

"He doesn't ... He doesn't know where you live, does he?" you asked gravely just as the elevator door opened. Jimin's gaze locked with yours. The door wanted to close again but his hand stopped them.

"Of course not," said Jimin darkly. You exited the elevator. "And if he does, he'll be shot dead before he makes it past the lobby," added Jimin, knocking the breath out of you. You stared at him paralyzed as he typed in the code of the apartment lock, imagining the scene in your head. Although Kang has been terrible to you and you wanted nothing else but to get away from him, a part of you still cared for some reason. You have been together for nearly two years and not all of it was bad. Yet on the other hand, if Kang came after Jimin for helping you ...

"Come," said Jimin as he opened the door for you.

You stared at Jimin whilst your heart weighed heavy in your chest and your lungs turned to lead with worry. You took your hand from his.

"I should go," you found yourself saying and turned on your heel, pressing the elevator button.

"Y/N," called Jimin, already catching your hand before the elevator door could even open. "What are you talking about?" His eyebrows had formed into a terrible frown. You could not even look at him as your eyes filled with hot tears.

"I shouldn't be here," you hurried, "If Kang finds out where I am—"

"I told you you're safe, Y/N," Jimin cut you off and you finally managed to look at him, your big watery eyes finding his.

"I don't care about me," you cried. "What if he hurts you?" You looked away as two salty tears slipped down your cheeks. You brushed them away with your free hand, doing your best to control the sobs that wanted nothing more but to escape your lungs.

You looked back up at Jimin when he did not say anything. His frown was almost gone and his jaw softened as his brown eyes filled with warmth.

Another tear slipped from your eye but Jimin caught it with his thumb.

"Come in," assured Jimin, his voice gentle. You hesitated but the tug of Jimin's hand encouraged you before he led you inside.

Jimin turned on the lights, revealing a spacious living area at the end of the short hallway. You slipped off your heels and took in the view. The rich dark tones of the walls and the furniture were balanced out by the white ceilings and warm lights. The living room opened into the kitchen and dining room that further led to a narrow hallway.

"Come, let's get you some clothes," said Jimin, making you turn around. There was a staircase behind you that led to a second floor.

Jimin pushed open the door of his bedroom as he led you through it to his walk-in closet. His room was the opposite of downstairs with its pale walls and dark hardwood floors. The walls of Jimin's walk-in closet, however, were lined with suits and shirts and jewellery and shoes.

"Are you cold? Do you want a hoodie?" asked Jimin but received no answer from you. When he turned around, he found your eyes on one the dressers he had especially made. Jimin forgot one of the drawers open, one with a slick black sniper gun lying in a bed of foam of its exact shape.

Jimin let go of your hand and closed the drawer with a swift gesture. The drawer locked into the dresser, only Jimin's fingerprint being able to open it again.

Your heart was beating hard against your throat as you gaze met with Jimin's. This was not your first time seeing a gun yet the sight of it sent shivers down your spine nonetheless.

"T-shirt or hoodie?" asked Jimin again, changing the topic completely.

"A t-shirt is fine," you managed to utter and although your voice was near as quiet as a whisper, your voice crack slightly anyway. You could see that Jimin noticed because his body froze when he heard it even if only for a split second.

Jimin handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of cozy sweatpants and gave you some privacy to change.

You slipped from your dress and put on his clothes before emerging from the closet. You expected to find him in his room but he wasn't there. You thought to find him downstairs but you could not help but take a look around Jimin's bedroom. There was a silver laptop on his large bed, only the lamp from his nightstand turned on. You stopped in front of the window-wall and took in the full view of the city; the yellow and red lights glowed in the rainy night with blue lights from an ambulance or a police car passing by here and there. You sank deep in thought. The image of Kang's eyes, of his clenched jaw, and loud voice persisted in your mind as you remembered your last argument. You remembered the fear and the insecurity.

You felt heat on the back of your neck and the pressure of anxiety in your chest. You sat down in one of the two armchairs by the window, trying to calm your trembling hands.

"You know you're sitting in my favourite chair," said Jimin, a shadow of a playful smile in the corner of his lips but you could not see it; you could only hear his words.

"W-What?" you stuttered, comprehending what he said. You stood up quickly, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know ..."

Your big wide eyes jumped to Jimin's as you hugged your arms. His eyebrows hung in a formidable frown, his dark eyes darting to your hands. Although he knew it was there, Jimin's gaze fell upon your bruised elbow for the first time. The purple fingertips that were imprinted into your skin made his stomach twist into knots. It took every ounce of discipline in him not to storm out and kill Kang with his bare hands. Jimin knew you guys fought a lot but he never realized it was this bad or he would have done something about it.

"Y/N," whispered Jimin, his hands slowly cupping your cheeks. You did not even know when it happened but there were tears falling from your eyes. Jimin tried to brush them away with his thumbs but only more fell.

"Y/N, please ..." begged Jimin, his heart falling to pieces to see you cry. You sniffled back a sob and looked down. How you hated to cry; it made you feel weak and helpless but nothing you could do would stop it in that moment.

Jimin pulled you closer, his arms securing around your trembling frame. Your hands wrapped around his waist as sobs filled your lungs. Jimin caressed your hair and held you to him as you cried, his chin resting on top of your head.

Taehyung

You observed Taehyung with the corner of your eye as he drove, still not knowing where he was taking you. You began to doubt whether this was a good idea, whether you could trust Taehyung. They were all in this business together with the same sort of tactics and manipulations. For a moment, you considered it was all just a trap, that Kang and Taehyung made some sort of agreement for your boyfriend to test your loyalty or play a trick on you.

Your hands began to tremble as you blinked back the tears. Taehyung made a sharp turn into the garage of a tall building. You found yourself holding your breath until he parked and you got out of the car. The neon lights almost blinded you but Taehyung found your hand to guide you. He took you to the elevator guarded by three heavily armed bodyguards. They all nodded at Taehyung, their eyes only noting your presence before turning away.

Your heart was beating loud and your head began to feel light as the elevator rose to the topmost floor of the building. You had not even noticed but you have been subconsciously squeezing Taehyung's hand in a fidgety repetition as you tried to calm down. You could feel Taehyung's quiet gaze on you all the way up until the elevator door slid open.

When Taehyung let go of your hand to type in the security code for his apartment, you instinctively hugged your bare arms. Your gaze shifted along the narrow corridor, somehow expecting for Kang to appear in front of you.

"Come in," asked Taehyung not ungently but you nearly gasped at the sound of his voice that startled you from your thoughts. He noticed because an even darker frown settled on his eyes.

"Thank you," you said quietly and slipped inside, trying to disguise how scared you really were. But there was no fooling Taehyung.

You took off your heels, now standing much shorter to Taehyung than before. Your eyes scanned his beautiful apartment and still searched for anything that would stand out. Dark and rich earthy colours dominated everywhere you looked, brightened by warm lights and large windows.

Taehyung showed you around to the kitchen and the dining area and the main hallway which led to one of the bathrooms, his office, a guest bedroom and his own bedroom.

You waited whilst Taehyung got you some of his clothes to change into, your eyes scanning the apartment anxiously. You almost jumped when Taehyung reappeared at your side, handing you a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

You thanked him, squeezing the clothes to your chest. "Can I take a shower?" you asked hesitantly.

"Of course," said Taehyung and opened the door of the bathroom for you. He disappeared quietly, giving you the privacy you needed.

The hot water felt good against your skin and calmed some of your nerves although you were still on pins and needles. You dried yourself and changed into the comfortable clothes Taehyung lent you. Your skin smelled of his bodywash, giving you goosebumps.

You found Taehyung in the living room, sitting elegantly on the sofa. His eyes rose from his phone and took in the sight of you in his clothes. You had to roll up the cuffs of the pants but otherwise they were perfect.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded a little, slowly making your way to the sofa where you sat down as well, not too close, not too far from Taehyung.

"Why did you help me?" you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. If this was not a trap as Kang was nowhere to be seen, you could not help but wonder why Taehyung offered his help to you.

Taehyung turned to you, his formidable presence making your stomach twist and your heart give a painful squeeze.

"I like you ... so I helped you," Taehyung said calmly, the tone of his voice smooth and even like molten gold.

I like you.

A shivery breath caught in the back of your throat as you felt the tips of your fingers prickle with needles. Your heart was beating wildly against your chest.

"And you ... You don't want anything in return for ... For helping me?" you asked timidly, studying Taehyung's face as your eyes found his. He paused.

"Like what?" asked Taehyung. You could see it in the somber expression of his face that he could read the thoughts behind your eyes. He knew what you were asking but was offended by it.

You looked away quickly as your entire body suddenly seemed like it was on fire. Your gaze turned to your hands where you picked on the skin around your nails anxiously. You could feel Taehyung's gaze burn into you.

"I don't want anything in return, Y/N," said Taehyung calmly. He got up and ran a hand through his hair. "You should get some rest."

You looked up at him as Taehyung made past you. A pang of guilt cut deep into your chest when you watched his frame disappear down the hallway.

You tried to find some sleep that night but you couldn't. Although the bed was perfect, the temperature just to your liking, it was your mind that was in a tempest and kept you up. Even when you managed to find sleep for a few minutes, your mind replayed Kang's words mingled with Taehyung's like a broken record.

You're never leaving me. Ever. -I like you. -You're never leaving me. Ever. -I like you. You're never—

You woke up with a start, a loud gasp escaping your lungs as you sat up in bed. The guest bedroom was already kissed by daylight, now waking in the shades of creamy white and deep espresso brown instead of shadows appearing everywhere you looked. The room itself could nearly be an apartment in its own right with its ornate loveseat and a matching armchair, with paintings and dressers and lively green plants.

You rolled out of bed still more rested than you went to sleep even though you had an uneasy night. At the least you could think more clearly than yesterday, which also meant that you felt even guiltier than before.

You expected to find Taehyung somewhere in the living area or the kitchen but he was nowhere to be seen. He was not in the bathroom across your room either, which only left his bedroom. Just as you were about to hide back in the guestroom for a while longer, Taehyung appeared on the doorway of his bedroom.

A blush so strong rose to your cheeks that your skin pulsated with fever. Taehyung was in nothing but a pair of trousers, his hair ruffled and his eyes full of sleep as he leaned one of his arms against the door frame beside his head.

"I'll get dressed in a minute," said Taehyung abently, his voice so deep and husky with sleep it made goosebumps rise on your arms and legs.

"Take your time," you managed to utter, now feeling the blush prickle your chest and neck as well. The image of Taehyung's bare chest would not leave your mind no matter how hard you tried.

You waited in the kitchen, pacing and biting your lip, when Taehyung appeared once again. He wore a pair of elegant black trousers and a matching shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A silver wristwatch rested on one of his hands, the other one resting snugly in his pocket. His dark eyes found you immediately although he was in urgent need of some coffee.

"Did you get any rest?" you spoke, desperate to cut through the silence.

The espresso machine was already buzzing busily when Taehyung turned to you, leaning against the counter.

"I should be asking you that," said Taehyung huskily, a hint of amusement hiding in his eyes. You did not say anything though but waited for him to go first.

"I didn't sleep much," Taehyung told truthfully.

"Me neither," you agreed. "I couldn't stop thinking ... I ... I shouldn't have said that last night." You looked down for a moment, ashamed of yourself.

"Said what?"

"You helped me and I questioned your intentions," you said desperately, beginning to think Taehyung was torturing you on purpose. But when you looked into his eyes, there was nothing he was not sharing with you.

Taehyung stood up straight and walked over to you, stopping only inches away. He leaned down, his forehead nearly touching yours as a sharp breath caught in your throat. Your heart raced wildly.

"If you weren't you, you would have been right to question my intentions," said Taehyung, both of his hands now hidden in the pockets of his trousers yet his gaze remained burned into yours.

"You are in luck though," he spoke again, sending shivers down your spine. "Because as strange and unusual as I as well find it, my intentions with you are nothing if not pure," Taehyung purred, his eyes filled with unusual warmth.

The espresso machine gave a quiet ring.

"Coffee?"

Jungkook

You arrived at Jungkook's apartment building in the middle of the night. The stress not only of the evening alone but the past couple of months caught up to you. Once the adrenaline of escaping your boyfriend subsided, you could not even bring yourself to talk. The entire ride was filled with not uncomfortable silence although you were still on pins and needles. You had not planned to leave the benefit or your now ex-boyfriend the way you did, much less did you think Jeon would be the person to help you do it. You worried you might have made a wrong decision asking him for help as you glanced at his tattooed knuckles gripping onto the steering wheel and his formidable frown.

You got out of the car the moment the engine died, yearning for a breath of fresh air. You did not get it though as you were in the garage of the apartment building and the air was worse than ever. Instead, you came face to face with men clad in black carrying heavy weapons. The sight made your stomach twist into even tighter knots but it was too late now.

You followed Jungkook into the elevator that eventually rose to the top of the building. The ride made you uneasy, making your head feel as light as a feather. Just as the walls seemed to start closing down on you, the door of the elevator opened following a ring.

Jungkook placed his hand on the side of the door to keep it from closing as you walked out. You waited for him in front of another pair of doors where Jungkook typed in the code of the security lock and had the scanner read his fingerprint.

Jungkook opened the door for you, letting you enter first. He turned on the lights quickly and closed the entrance behind him. The click of the door made you turn around, your eyes darting to his. His eyebrows seemed to be frozen in a frown since you left the benefit.

Jungkook's gaze revisited the place where Kang left his fingerprints, his mind drifting off to dangerous places.

You licked your dry lips and took off your heels that were beginning to dig painfully into your feet. As you rose, you finally took in the sight of Jungkook's apartment. It was a balance of dark and light, of vast emptiness and inviting warmth.

"I'll get you some clothes," said Jungkook as he made past you, the smell of smoke and his perfume lingering on his clothes.

You glanced at the door when Jungkook was out of sight and tried the knob but it was locked, the keypad staring at you blinkingly. You did not intend on leaving, you had nowhere to go, but just being able to have that option ...

Jungkook brought you a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft black t-shirt that you thanked him for. He showed you to the bathroom where you changed and washed off your smudged makeup. Yet once you returned, Jungkook could still see the storm of thoughts behind your eyes.

"What is it?" asked Jungkook not unkindly although his frown curved even grimmer if that was even possible.

"Am I ..." you began, not knowing how to string together the words. The answer that you might get frightened you.

Jungkook's eyes waited with expectation.

"Am I allowed to leave?" you uttered at last, your voice quiet as your gaze shifted between Jungkook's eyes and the buttons of his shirt.

"Why wouldn't you be?" asked Jungkook, a hidden sharpness in his voice that you could point out easily. In the past months, you had learned to pick up on the smallest signals and gestures that could most of the time save you from a difficult argument.

"I don't know," you tried to keep your voice loud enough for him to hear although your hands were wet with cold sweat.

Jungkook stared at you. You were avoiding his eyes, your hands if not your whole body were trembling, your shoulders tense.

"Why did you come with me if you're so scared of me?" asked Jungkook. Your eyes found his as your lips parted.

"I suppose I'm not as scared of you as I am of him," you confessed after a moment not only to Jungkook but to yourself. You looked down, ashamed that you felt that way about someone who so far did everything but hurt you.

Your eyes watered with tears and your chin quivered. You thought about everything Kang told you about Jungkook, and you thought about Kang himself; the thought of him made you sick with fever.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you shook your head. You tried to push away the tears, tired of crying, but they fell down your cheeks anyway.

"You've been nothing but kind to me ... If it weren't for you ..." you could not even think about it. You hid your eyes behind your hand, holding back the pain in your chest.

"Fuck ..." muttered Jungkook under his breath and pulled you into his arms despite battling with himself not to do it. He could not forget the way you winced from his touch when he led you to his car, but he did not know what else to do.

You did not flinch this time, however. You welcomed the comfort of his embrace, of his arms wrapping around your frame. His chest felt warm beneath your cheek, the sound of his loud heartbeat calming you down.

You did not know how much time had passed or how long the two of you have been standing that way, but it was long enough for you to feel yourself want to fall asleep.

"I'm so tired," you whispered, your eyes closed and your hands still wrapped around Jungkook's waist.

"I know," said Jungkook quietly not to disturb you. He slipped his arms beneath you and picked you up. If you had had but an ounce of energy left, you would have argued against it and insisted to walk alone but you could no longer fight at all, not for anything.

Soon, there was a soft pillow beneath your head and the covers drawn over your shivering body. The exhaustion made you even colder than usual but you fell asleep anyway.

***

When you woke up, the pale sun was shinning into the unknown room. The walls were charcoal grey, the ceiling white with a wall of windows opening from top to bottom to your side. You sat up quickly, not remembering how you got there, not recognizing any of the furniture nor the bed. Your gaze soon fell upon the armchair in the corner of the room. The memories of last night came back to you when you saw Jungkook sleeping in the armchair. He no longer wore a tuxedo but a black hoodie and a pair of sweatpants as he lay sprawled in the armchair.

You remembered crying in Jungkook's arms and hugging him, and you were almost certain he carried you to bed. Heat rushed to your cheeks and neck, painting them red with blush as you wished for the floor to crack open and swallow you. You were rested now, at least more than last night when you were a complete mess of emotions and could think straight.

Your mind drifted to Kang as you wondered what happened at the benefit after you disappeared, the rage and uproar he must have caused.

Your elbow was even sorer than you remembered and the bruise grew darker and more menacing by the hour. You tried to touch it but the brush of fingertips alone was painful.

Although the armchair looked uncomfortable, you wanted to let Jungkook sleep. You could not stop the butterflies from awakening in your stomach when you saw him like that. His face was relaxed, his brows free from the usual frown. Jungkook's arms were crossed lazily across his chest as he breathed softly.

You slipped from the bed quietly, goosebumps rising on your arms in the cold morning air. It was misty and grey outside, the sun now gone completely. You took the soft blanket from the foot of the bed and made your way to Jungkook almost on the tips of your toes. You folded the blanket once and placed it gently over Jungkook, praying that it would not wake him up.

Jungkook remained asleep as you slipped from the guest bedroom and found the bathroom. It made you uneasy to look through his bathroom cabinet but you were in desperate need of a toothbrush. You opened one of the spare ones and borrowed a bit of toothpaste, followed by washing your face and using your fingers for comb when you suddenly heard footsteps in the hallway.

Your gaze shot up to the bathroom door and your heart jumped in your chest. It took you a moment to remind yourself that you were not at home, that you were safe, and Kang was miles away.

When you reached the kitchen, Jungkook was rubbing his tired eyes with his index and thumb as he stood before the buzzing espresso machine.

You wondered why he decided to sleep in the armchair when Jungkook turned around, feeling your gaze burn into his back.

"Hi," you said quietly, a small smile lining your lips.

"Hey," said Jungkook, his voice deep and husky like broken. Goosebumps rose on your arms.

"Coffee?" he offered, fixing his hair by running his fingers through it.

"Please," you said but felt a pang of guilt when you saw the tiredness on his face. You sat down at the counter and poured some milk into your coffee whilst Jungkook watered his espresso to an americano. Just the smell of coffee managed to bring him back from the dead some, although he yearned for a shower and a workout.

"Why did you sleep in the armchair?" you found yourself asking, unable to stop the blush from creeping to your cheeks. You bit your lip, your eyes shifting between Jungkook and your coffee.

Jungkook watched you for a moment, his eyebrows nestling in their usual frown. "You had nightmares."

"I did?" you breathed, not remembering a thing. You shivered from the cold air but you did not notice as you tried to put together the puzzles of your memory.

"You don't remember?" asked Jungkook and set down his nearly empty coffee cup. You looked up at him when his fingers went to the hem of his hoodie as he pulled it off. The t-shirt beneath it rose to the middle of his torso as he did so, sending a wave of heat to your cheeks.

"Here," said Jungkook and handed the hoodie to you.

"No, it's okay—" you reacted quickly but he cut you off.

"Take it," said Jungkook, leaving no room for arguments. You couldn't do anything else but to thank him to which he nodded absent-mindedly.

You slipped on Jungkook's hoodie, still warm and smelling like him. You sank into the comfortable material, your nose buried in the collar of the hoodie. Jungkook did not say anything for a while, making you look up with big eyes as you just woke from your thoughts.

Jungkook was watching you all the while, leaning against the counter at the hip, until your gaze finally rose to him. His dark eyes were filled with amusement, which made you blush. His lips spread into a small smile as he passed by you and headed down the hallway. You stared at his back until he disappeared from your sight, feeling your cheeks pulsate with heat.

[tinietaehyun]

INVITE ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

[Vampire!Beomgyu x Herbalist!Reader] [One shot]

Pairing: Vampire!Beomgyu x Herbalist!Reader

Genres: Romance, supernatural, fantasy, fluff, thriller.

Contains: suggestive themes, mentions of biting, blood, bleeding, injury, asphyxiation, profanity, a smidge of forbidden!love, romance.

Links: Masterlist

Note: Buckle up it’s a long one folks!

Summary: In your village, a rather handsome man captures your gaze. He truly does look as though he fell from the heavens above with his flawless face and body - something that had garnered quite the bit of attention from everyone in the village.

Though for some reason, you felt as though recently you had been seeing the mysteriously beautiful man more often, not only that, but he was in fact sharing glances, even smirking at you leaving you nothing but flustered. As lovely as all this is….

The last thing you expect is to find this man bleeding half to death at your door in the dead of night. Though unlike a victim, his eyes held the gleam of a predator instead. What had you gotten yourself into inviting him in?

There he is again. His brown, murky irises meet yours once more. A shiver runs down your spine at his gaze. Oh, how pretty he was. His luscious lips form a smirk, the same one he seemed to be giving you for the last few days, one so coy, borderline flirtatious. It had your heart palpitating faster than it should.

Your eyes flicker to the passer-by’s, everyone noticed his mysterious beauty, all glancing as they walked past, all enamoured by his alluring appearance. A group of women catches your sight, they seemed to make it their hobby to capture a glimpse of the handsome man every morning.

He seemed to have the entire village under his spell, then again, with the way he looked, you weren’t surprised. The brown haired male almost looked as though he were of noble descent. From whatever rumours you heard, you found that he was actually an orphan who had recently moved in from another town. Though, this mysterious figure kept mostly to himself; not much information was known about him. It had you writhing in curiosity.

His dark brown locks fall to the base of his neck in a messy but attractive style complimenting his chic and sharp features. The man seemed to always wear some variation of a loose cotton top tucked into his trousers with laced up boots. A somewhat elegant ensemble, for someone amongst the commoners here. His sharp eyes, pointed and sharp nose and rosy, luscious lips, what was there not perfect about him? No wonder had the envious stares of men and a gaggle of women behind him.

His gaze meets your again sending a flush to your cheeks and you helplessly fumble turning the sign on your door to “Open.” Damn him! He smirks momentarily before resuming his morning walk. You always admired him, but in no way were you desperate enough to approach! Goodness knows how high his ego must be, he can’t possibly be ignorant to the amount of attention he gets! The last thing you needed was a pompous, self-absorbed customer or suitor! For now, you’d settle for merely observing the pretty boy from afar; who knows how many hearts he’s broken looking like that?

With a nonchalant hum, you enter your shop and begin rearranging the pots containing your various powdered remedies and peering at your to-do list. Being a herbalist, it isn’t the most exciting job but it allows you to live somewhat comfortably. After all, the human body is frail, people are always sick. People always came to you for various cures, treatments and remedies for their sicknesses and maladies. You always felt a sense of satisfaction helping people, aside from the profit of course, but just seeing the same people who were once so frail and weak, come and thank you a few months later, it truly did warm your heart.

You continue to organise your display before returning behind to your station where you made your various creations - consisting of different potions, powders, concoctions and pastes, all made with herbs and plants. It was always quite tiresome to fetch such rare herbs and plants, that’s what you did initially, taking days off just to get ingredients but thankfully you were now well off enough to afford a mercenary to collect ingredients for you on a monthly basis. It took a lot of risk and pressure off your shoulders.

Sighing, your mind drift backs to him. Why was he so damn handsome? It was unfair! Why was he always looking at you, exchanging glances, coy smiles, peering at your shop. What was his game?

Shaking your head, you resume pounding the mortar and pestle in hand, you had to focus. You had a business to run and work to do. He’d probably grow tired and find some other face to gaze at. He probably already has a queue of suitors; pointless of you to waste your time on him, really. Yet, his ambiguity had you yearning to learn more. You’d have to ask around once more when you had time.

The next day arrives, you open up your shop again; your body moving by a well-polished routine. Flipping the sign over, writing your offers for the day on the board outside, rearranging your display, wiping down the counter and making a list of ingredients to purchase and readying orders. It was a life that was supposedly satisfying, albeit dull for those who saw you.

Your ears perk as you hear the door open with a creak and a customer come in; a dreary expression. “Oh it’s you? I have your order prepared. It’s the powder, I’ve written a slip about the dosage and it should definitely help with your sleeplessness.” It had a mixture of Chamomile, Valerian Root and Passion flower; a potent combination in which a very small dosage should be mixed with water.

The client wearily smiles haphazardly placing the gold coins down and you slide them into your hand with a smile, “Thank you. Don’t hesitate to visit again, if there’s any issues or want another batch!” Before you could ease up; another customer shoves past the previous one as they exit with a panicked expression, “Bandages, cloth, something strong to wake someone up! Quick!”

Your lips part in shock, “Sir? What- what’s the matter?” The man snaps, “Just give me the damn things I need.” Glaring, you begin collecting some roll of linen bandages, and ragged cloth. “What do you mean wake someone up? I assume they’re unconscious, from what though? I need the cause to determine the medication.” The man groans, “I- I don’t know okay, she seems pale, looks like she lost a lot of blood. Haven’t you heard?”

You stiffen, “What? Blood loss?” Your hands immediately drift to a particular bottle with a scent and taste strong enough to wake someone up from an unconscious slumber and leave an unfortunately wild aftertaste for days. Gathering the items, you place them on the counter, calculating the total.

“Yes, the poor girl is as white as snow and frail as paper. There’s two puncture wounds on her neck and shoulders; bitten…” The man shudders.

…Bitten? A vampire? Surely not. You’ve heard of such things up in the North, a few folk tales here and there to scare the children from not playing outside too late or wandering off. Of course, you knew they existed, after all, there were many cases of such things. But here? In your quaint little village of peace and quiet?

That was the last thing you wanted!

“A vampire? In our village?” You write down the usage on the slip as the man slams down the coins on the counter. He grumbles, “Don’t know and don’t want to find out. Whatever it is, I want my niece to be healthy again! I told her not to go out so late! Did she listen? No, ‘course she didn’t!”

Frowning, you watch as he shoves the items into his satchel and rushes off. Such a large incident, you wonder when it happened, must have been last night. It must be the talk of the town, then again, you weren’t ever really the one to gossip.

Vampires, truly a fascinating enigma of supernatural phenomena. Humans but they’re bloodsuckers. Truly the most charming and alluring. Perhaps even romanticised in most of the novels you had read, though the moment there was a mention of one in a town or village it had everyone running to their church in desperate prayer.

With a sigh, well, you suppose it’d do you good to close the shop before the sun sets and the streets get too empty. You weren’t exactly planning to be the next meal, per se. As curious as you were, you weren’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of getting drained, after all, you had people to heal and save.

The day passes on remarkably dull with a few hints of chatter and murmur regarding the incident that manages to fall on your ears. They had notified the incident to the church and the village head. Though, you doubt they’d do anything except tell people to stay indoors.

“He’s so dreamy, she’s so lucky. To be carried in his arms, he’s just as chivalrous as he looks,” a woman who walks past your shop swoons to her friend. “Beomgyu truly is a Prince Charming in disguise, oh I find his mysterious and reserved nature so attractive, hiding such a warm heart under that cold exterior. I heard he carried her all the way to the nearest clinic at sunrise. If it weren’t for him, she’d be dead!”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but find the ordeal amusing. Huh, Beomgyu. That was his name. He found the victim unconscious and brought her to the nearest clinic, so what? Isn’t that what any morally-aligned human should be doing? A slight wave of relief hits you, you were wondering what you’d actually do in such a situation, if he had brought her to your clinic. Perhaps, your competitor clinics could gain a point this time. You weren’t exactly eager to be involved with such things, then again, you were also curious about these beings.

Another few days, another victim, this time a man, unfortunately for you, he was brought into your shop, unconscious and barely alive. The sight of puncture wounds in person made you shiver. Indeed, it was the work of a vampire. Someone in your town had a lot of explaining to do. Until then, the villagers, including yourself, were sitting ducks waiting to be feasted on.

Another week, another woman, bit but still alive. You noticed a commonality, they were all left alive, but weak, having lost a lot of blood. A large contradiction to what you’ve heard as vampires who drain their victims dry leaving them a hollow husk of skin. All of them couldn’t remember the perpetrator (how convenient), then again, you suppose that vampiric powers were best not questioned. So you treated her as best as you could.

You hadn’t expected to get so much income in the last few weeks, as morbid a thought that was. You were just glad no one had died. The last few weeks had generated a fear, a buzz amongst the people. Initially you hadn’t cared much, but with the growing number and regularity of incidents, you felt uneasy, anxious even. Would you be next? The village was on high alert.

You flip over the sign to “Open” as usual and wipe the door clean from the dust gathering on it. Your breath hitches, right on cue. There he was. His walks with grace, the women slowing their paces to gaze at him in awe. His brown locks bounce and sway in the breeze; like the other times, his eyes meet yours. You couldn’t move, almost transfixed on his gorgeously sharp eyes.

Everyday, he managed to meet your gaze. Give you that irritatingly sly little smirk, or smile and then walk by as if nothing occurred. Your heart pounds viciously as you force yourself to tear your gaze away. Did he know what he was doing to you?

Oddly enough, the following week, nothing happened. With such high expectations, you found your shop as dry as before, the people almost too afraid to relax. What happened? Did the vampire get caught? Decide they got bored?

You’d heard the rumours, Beomgyu was being suspected. Though his loyal fans defended him to no end, particularly since he often visited the victims bearing care items, or even offering sweet words of sympathy. Half adored him, half suspected him. Hell, you weren’t sure if all the men were just accusing him merely to get him kicked out of the village for their own greedy jealousy. After all, he garnered a lot of attention being as pretty as he was.

Either way, you stayed out of the chaos. You didn’t know what to think; he seemed to mind his business, you saw him everyday, in the morning. You find it hard to believe, in fact; you knew he’d be going to a tavern where he works at (purely because of the indescribably long queue out of it during the day). You don’t know, with a frustrated sigh, oh whatever! You had your shop to run. Why were you scrambling your brain as to whether you damned crush was a vampire or not?

The evening arrives and with the last of your medicines and remedies prepared for tomorrow; you flip the sign to “Closed,” before taking your keys and locking up the door and drawing the ragged curtains. Huh, you should probably replace those.

As the sun sets, you begin lighting the candles around the shop creating a dim hue of orange with wavering shadows that you always sought comfort in. You peer outside seeing the other houses and shops do the same; a warm glow illuminates onto the street. You know by nightfall, it would be pitch black. Not a single soul would dare wonder (particularly at this time!)

Heading up the rickety stairs, you find yourself in your home which rests atop your shop on the first floor. It wasn’t much, but enough to live comfortably albeit its small size and cramped nature. You perform your nightly routine after having dinner as you feel the vines of exhaustion twist around you. Lying down, a fatigued sigh hits you, it always took you awhile to finally get to sleep. Your mind always rummages through things at this particular time, irritatingly enough. After awhile, your eyelids flutter closed under the weight of sleep and you drift off to the land of dreams and delusions.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You shift in your bed uncomfortably, eyes still closed.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes slam open as you sit up abruptly, heart pounding. Nervousness fills within you to the brim. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Someone was knocking on your shop door. Oh absolutely not!

The knocks become more urgent and you hear a muffled cry. Fear squeezes you like a vice. With trembling legs, you walk forward peering out through the little gap in your curtains down below seeing a man hunched over, keeping one arm against the wall to keep himself standing. What the hell?

In the dark and with him hunched over, you couldn’t see his face clearly yet instinct filled you with a sense of familiarity. You freeze as the man’s head suddenly snaps up and you squeak, stumbling back onto the floor to avoid being spotted. Damn it! Why were you such a coward?

Was he injured? Was…it the vampire you’d been hearing about? His clothes looked familiar and that messy wolffish haircut. Surely not…were you hallucinating?

Taking a small, oil-lit lantern, you creep down the stairs, not making a single noise and settle on the first few steps, trying to decipher what they were saying.

“…Help, please…, I’m going-ah, to die at th-this rate. H-He’ll be back, please- I don’t want to die. Please- wake up ah-fuck it hurts!” The pained grunts and groans make your heart twist and churn. Your feet itch to go, you never wished to leave anyone untreated especially when injured.

“Please, I hope you’re awake. Bleeding-so- ah, much,” he rasps out. His tone deep and rich now strained with pain and agony. Biting your lip in hesitance, you timidly walk down the stairs, your lantern flame illuminates the walls just about and the stranger seems to pick up on the flickering light that now seems to illuminate your poor-excuse for curtains.

“Oh- fuck. Are you there? Oh thank goodness! Oh please, please, let me in. He’s still out there, and my blood…will only- ah, draw him near!” He grunts out harshly knocking on the door in desperation.

He? The vampire? Oh shit. Was this a victim of that maniac? Shuddering, you approach your front window sill drawing back the curtains and slightly opening the wooden shutters. You weren’t sure about this; this would truly be a stupid way to die. But your heart couldn’t take his pained cries. You’d be failing your duty, what if you heard that he had died the next day? Oh guilt would eat you up for weeks!

The man’s face becomes illuminated by your lantern and he scrambles, wobbling over to the window sill grappling onto the ledge precariously with desperation. Oh my god. It was him. Choi Beomgyu.

His skin glows ethereally against the flame of your lantern, now paler than what you’re used to, presumably from whatever injury he had sustained. His dark murky irises meet yours, lashes glistening under the light. “Y-You, oh god, you’re the only one who’s woken up and given me a chance, t-thank, ah- the heavens above,” he grits out, eyes closing as you notice him clutch just below his ribs on the left side.

“Oh my goodness,” you gasp seeing his usually white top now drenched in blood, staining it, it was a horrid sight. Just how bad was his injury to emit such an amount of bleeding? Your eyes widen, “What happened?”

He grunts struggling to stand, “Ah fuck, could you just let me inside, I can’t- ah, stand for much longer. Everything’s spinning.” You hesitate, “You know with everything going on and stuff I can’t just-“

Beomgyu in frustration, misery and pain, “Oh, I know, vampire this- ah, vampire that. That’s precisely my fucking problem,” he grimaces. “Problem? Wait- did you-“ you begin shakily.

Beomgyu shakily murmurs, “Vampire… attack. I need to be inside. He suddenly l-let me go, fuck, I don’t know, is he t-toying with me? I wrestled him off, stuck my dagger into him, and r-ran like my life depended on it-“ he deliriously explains. He hangs his head low; his brown, damp locks hanging over his eyes and his lips part heaving heavy and ragged breaths.

Placing the oil-lamp down, with panic, you grab your clunky keys and unlock the latches and unlock the door. The male almost stumbles in and you yelp as he falls against you.

“Ah- wait-“ you struggle against the sheer weight of him as you wrap your arms around him; you feel the wetness of his blood seep into your nightgown, making you grimace. Awkwardly, you maneuver him to sit against the wall as he murmurs against your ear, “Mm…thank,” he coughs, “…you.” You position him against the wall; his eyes are closed as he lies there still.

You slam the door shut not wanting any unwanted visitors being drawn to the scent of blood from your shop. Rushing around, you grab whatever medical supplies you needed to treat a vampire victim, after all, the last few weeks had given you (unfortunately) sufficient practice.

For a moment, you glance at his quietly resting face. Indeed, his beauty even whilst so battered was hauntingly ethereal. The flame of your oil lamp adds to his allure, to think the man who you had exchanged glances with, who smirked at you, would now be clinging to you for treatment.

Timidly, you untie the fastenings of his collar and unbutton the collar of his shirt as you untuck it from his trousers. Huh, quite the bleed out. You need to apply pressure first. Your fingers dab the area over the fabric and you realise most of the blood has dried. Guilt hits you, perhaps, you shouldn’t have made him wait outside in the cold air for so long…

Beomgyu groans, “Mm…thank you..” A small yet worried smile appears on your face, “Don’t thank me yet, it’s my job.” He rasps out slowly, “…I know, but no one,” he coughs, “…had let me in.” His words hang in the air pungently and you feel your heart race seeing his eyes open; his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

“Mm…” he hums, “…aren’t you so sweet,” he breathes. Your face flushes at his words and you clear your throat, “Save your energy.” His lips quirk up into a lazy smile.

Biting your lip, your brows furrow as you put pressure on the area, “May I lift your top to look at the injury?” Beomgyu hums, “By all means...” With trepidation, you lift his shirt revealing his torso; you almost have to reel yourself back looking at his flawless skin and his toned body; now marred with the stain of blood.

Wait. You stiffen. Your eyes scan over the area where the blood had supposedly leaked from. There was nothing but a faint line, the bleeding, well, you couldn’t even say that, he wasn’t bleeding. Then…why was there so much fresh blood on his top?

Your blood runs cold as your heart begins to palpitate. Something wasn’t right. Your gaze snaps up to Beomgyu who watches you with keen interest, “Hm? What is it?” His demeanor had switched just like that.

Your hands shake, he wasn’t injured at all. So…whose blood was on him? What did he do to them? Your lips quiver, your eyes snapping back to his blood-stained skin trailing up his defined torso with his unraveled shirt to his neck, back to his face. No injuries, not even a bruise elsewhere. Your breaths become uneven as fear begins to pulse through you.

Who did you just let in?

A small yet deep chuckle resounds from Beomgyu as he observes you, his gaze no longer that of a victim, but a predator carefully analysing its prey. “Dearest little healer, have you figured it out?” His tone is condescending, a touch playful even, sending a shiver of warning down your spine.

He grabs your wrist trailing your fingers across his skin, “Was my act that convincing? I’m so touched, you know? You’re the only one whose heart was big enough to let poor old me in. Truly, little healer, how kind of you to let a desperate stranger in to treat them personally.”

Beomgyu rubs his thumb over your inner wrist pressing down as you watch frozen in fear. With a sudden tug he pulls you closer as you topple over his outstretched legs; your face inches from his. He presses his lips against your wrist before trailing the bridge of his nose against it, an incredibly intimate motion, as he inhales deeply, “Mm…the scent of your blood, impeccable. It almost had me drooling the moment you opened the door.”

His soft lips press against your inner wrist, “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined sinking my fangs into that pretty little neck of yours, or your delicate wrists, whenever I walked past you in the mornings.”

Shakily, you pry your wrist from his grip and stumble back against the floor, scooting back. No, no, you couldn’t be tempted like this. What type of sweet talking was this? A breathless laugh leaves his lips, “Oh? Was that too much for you?”

“I couldn’t help it, you know, those adorable star-struck eyes of yours, just barely managing to meet my gaze, that shy little smile you’d return to me, oh, it really was so endearing. Watching you open up your precious little shop, on my morning walks.”

Quivering, you murmur, “You’re the vampire, that’s been…” He rolls his head back, a crack resounds from his stiff neck, “Mm, yes, yes. I am, you humans always have the same dialogue, I see.” Beomgyu’s lips quirk into a playful smirk, “You should be thanking me you know, I believe I’ve helped you earn a large amount of profit recently, no?”

You gawk, “You- you’re biting people! Taking their blood!” He grins almost amused with your accusation, “I’m not draining them am I? All I do is feed myself, just before they collapse, I stop and erase their memories. Simple, and it doesn’t draw much suspicion. They can’t even prove that I even had anything to do with it.”

He cooes, shaking the hair out of his dark eyes, “Anyway, you don’t expect me to starve to death do you? I see no harm, as long as no one dies, everyone should have a little frightening experience once in a while, no? Call it a humbling experience, let's say.”

Trembling, you peer at him; the candlelight casts a golden hue across his face, your eyes finally catch a glimpse of his glimmering fangs that just about peek over his luscious bottom lip. They weren’t as obvious before…

“I- I took you in believing you were injured,” you exclaim in a panic. “Surely, surely you can leave me be, s-search for something else? Perhaps feed on an animal for tonight? Please,” you plead as fear courses through you.

Beomgyu chuckles, standing up and stretching his arms with a groan. “Oh, how cute you sound when you plead, little healer,” he coos, peering down at you. The weight of his boots on the floorboards make them creak ominously. “However, I’ve not had my fill of human blood for days, and I’m feeling rather ravenous tonight. I couldn’t help but want to pay a visit to the sweetest herbalist in the village.”

He takes a step forward making you flinch, “Hm, you’re not even trying to fight back, throw anything at me, you really are different from the rest of this pitiful excuse for a village.” Fuck. What an idiot you were! You had a small dagger under the front counter- hell, what on earth were you going to do with that measly thing against…him?

What if it makes things worse? He hadn’t killed anyone as of yet? Then again…he hadn’t fed in days, what if wants to drain you? A crowd of thoughts whir in your mind chaotically as you scoot back trying to figure something out.

Beomgyu appears to be staring at you; his eyes swirling with bloodlust, his fangs itching to sink down into your soft skin, to suckle on it as your sweet, sweet sanguine drips onto his tongue. The way you fearfully peer up at him, gives him a surge of power, a feeling he immensely enjoyed. He always loved playing with his food.

Your parted lips, disheveled hair, heaving chest, and the best part, your pounding heart and rushing blood - absolute music to his ears! He appeared to be analysing every part of you, all with that salacious smirk on his rosy lips.

Beomgyu takes another step, another one, you squeak as his boots near your feet before he crouches down. “You’ll make this easy for me right? I don’t wish to hurt you like the others, see, if they’d been more cooperative, like you’re being, then they’d have not sustained so many scrapes and bruises.” Beomgyu smiles slyly his fingers reaching to cup your jaw, “Such a pretty little thing you are.”

His tongue wets his lips, as he inhales once more, with an impatient growl, he wraps his fingers around your neck. A light squeeze, and you gasp as he pulls you flush against him. Your fingers cling onto his shirt brushing against his icy skin. Your eyes glaze over, no way, this all had to be a dream right?

You pitifully gaze at him; his eyes stare back into yours hungrily. A moment of silence passes between you two - you didn’t know what he was thinking, he appears to be deep in thought about something as he gazes at you.

“Never seen someone as compliant as you, huh,” he muses, leaning down, his breath brushing against the curve of your neck.

Honestly when you didn’t know why you weren’t breaking down your doors or window shutters and screaming for help or running for your life. Perhaps, because you knew it was futile to outrun someone like him. Your eyes meet his sinful features again. Deep down, in the deepest crevices of your mind, perhaps you enjoyed the thrill, the change in pace from your monotonous life. Though you were not keen on the idea of losing your life in the process.

The bridge of his nose trails up the curve of your neck as he hums, “Such a lovely scent you have, I can only imagine how delectable you taste.” His words send a shiver through you and it doesn’t go unnoticed as he chuckles, “Oh? You like that? Or are you scared? I don’t know with you, you seem so…calm. I like it, I’ve never had prey like you.” Prey. That’s what you were. His prey.

You were scared but not willing to run. The tension in the air was palpable, crackling with electricity as your gazes locked with each other. Was…he hesitating?

He bares his fangs ready to sink down into your flesh, but pauses. His hands grip your forearms tightly, almost painfully. Why wasn’t he biting down? Wait- that was a good thing! What was wrong with you?

With an incredibly frustrated sigh, he snaps, “Fuck.” His eyes zone in your neck, “Why can’t I just…when you look up at me like that? For fuck’s sake,” he hisses almost angry not at you but at himself.

Timidly, you murmur breathily, “You-“ His dark eyes malevolently snap to yours and he smiles darkly, “Do tell, little healer, is the anticipation killing you?” He mutters, “It’s killing me too, why can’t I fucking bring myself to bite down?”

The way your eyes peer up at him, your quivering lips - the face he has grown oddly fond of and accustomed to seeing everyday. Despite not interacting with you before this, what was it about you? It angered him, had he grown soft? It seems so.

Your eyes widen in surprise, he couldn’t bring himself to bite you? What in the world was this? He glares, “Don’t look at me like that. Otherwise, I’ll change my mind.”

He grips your jaw suddenly, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip, a gesture that leaves you breathless, “Huh, there’s just something about you, that almost makes my cold, lifeless heart almost yearn to beat again. Why’s that?”

Beomgyu leans closer with narrowed eyes, “Hm? Tell me. Are you a witch? Some sort of fae? Descendant of a siren, to have bewitched me somehow?” You peer at him blankly trying to process what was going on. Beomgyu observes your lackluster reaction and he releases a laugh, “Ah, suppose those words don’t mean much to you, hm?”

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he stands up, “You have seemed to abate my hunger temporarily, how fascinating that is, just as it is frustrating. Here I was putting on all the theatrics just to get a meal tonight.”

You notice him turn away with a nonchalant attitude leaving you speechless. You scramble up to your feet, “Wait!”

He peers over his shoulder carelessly, “Hm?” “You’re just…leaving me be?” You pant out, confusion reigning your senses.

Beomgyu’s lips quirk into a grin, his fangs subtly peeking out, “Why? Do you wish to get bitten so badly, sweet healer? If you’re so desperate, I’d hate not to oblige-“

“No- no-that won’t be necessary,” you glare, “I- I’m just confused, you put in all this effort just to…leave? Aren’t you still…hungry?” You stammer. His gaze darkens as he snaps his head away from you back to the front door, “Some things are best left unexplored, sweet healer. Don’t push my mercy any further tonight.”

With that, he swiftly leaves out of the door leaving your heart racing and your mind an amalgamation of confusion and nervous thrill. Was he not even afraid that you’d go tell anyone? He didn’t even erase your memory? Was he always this sloppy with his targets? Surely not.

After standing for awhile, you finally bring yourself back to your bed, lying down. Your heartbeat still couldn’t calm down. Images of his handsome visage, smooth voice permeate your mind. You were just itching to know, why did he let you go? Surely…surely he didn’t have a soft spot for you? Did he?

The next morning arrives, tiredness clings to your body as you grumpily set up shop. Yawning, you flip over the sign and as usual, your ears listen for the latest gossip.

“There was a dead deer nearby Mr.Gallagher’s house, goodness. What a pitiful sight, it must have been that vampire, no?” The other woman chortles, “Huh, that pest hasn’t been drinking any victims for the last week and a half, what, has he gotten bored of human blood?” The two ladies laugh and you grimace. Well, at least now you know what alternative blood source Beomgyu had yesterday night. Poor thing; a light pang of guilt hits you.

Begrudgingly, you start you routine of crushing up spices and herbs and writing labels. A sudden sound of the door opening startles you. Who?-

“Look at you, as hard at work as always,” a familiar voice hums.

You whip around seeing Beomgyu striding in, a mischievous gaze and sly smile. He looked more handsome in the day, much more menacing at night. Regardless, his presence here meant bad news. You murmur, “What do you want?”

He muses, “Oh? Do you treat all your customers so coldly?” You glare, “Not all of my customers wish to drink my blood?” Beomgyu feigns innocence with a playful laugh, “Me? Oh, are you still not over yesterday night?”

“You’ve never set foot in my shop before, so why now?” You ask defensively. He grins walking up to the counter and your heart begins racing. “Why? Are you scared I’ll take a little sip right now?” Beomgyu’s eyes gleam amused.

The way he seemed to speaking to you now almost sent you into whiplash. His tone, his mannerisms, almost akin to a puppy nudging their owners foot, asking them to play fetch.

“Come now, sweet healer, if I could resist you yesterday, what makes you think I can’t today?” You mutter cautiously, “If you’re here to buy something, then buy it.”

Beomgyu muses, “Oh and here I thought with those shy smiles and glances we exchanged you’d be begging me to stay.” You mumble in embarrassment, “Well- that was- I-“

“Hm? Hm?” He eggs on laughing making you roll your eyes in embarrassment. “Oh, you do intrigue me so, little healer. So skittish yet you don’t outrightly kick me out. Hm? Why’s that?”

Fuck him. Fuck him and his perceptive nature. How humiliating. Exactly, why weren’t you kicking him out of your shop? You huff turning back around working on your labels.

You hear him snickering, “No answer? Fine by me.” Beomgyu grabs a stool dragging it to your counter and sits atop it, resting his elbow on the counter as he observes you.

“Are you just planning to stay here and watch me work?” You deadpan. “Well, I could always get my fill-“ he begins. “No, actually so whatever. You’ll get bored and leave soon anyway,” you huff.

“You solely underestimate a vampire’s patience,” he muses. His eyes trail along your working form, your cute little apron decorated with various stains and dirt along with your cotton dress underneath cinched perfectly by the knot of your apron string. Oh how adorable.

He wasn’t usually so keen on talking to humans, but something about you. He knew you liked him, why else would you be so bashful every morning? Yet unlike the others, you weren’t so open about it, never approached him. Such a reserved little thing you were.

Feeling his intense gaze, you didn’t know whether he was sizing you up as his prey, or genuinely appraising your attractiveness. Nevertheless, you continued on trying your best to ignore his presence. Various customers come in here and there and are almost jarred by his presence which makes you sigh in exasperation.

“You’re not leaving are you?” You groan. He muses, “Oh I will, just a little longer, patience my sweet, it’s only been an hour. I find it fascinating to see how you make your little medicines and such.”

You glare, “Little medicines?” Beomgyu grins, “Why yes, watching you work so hard to expand mortal lives, just a little bit longer, is amusing to me.”

“How cynical of you,” you drawl. He muses, “I can be optimistic if that’s what you’d like, sweet healer.” You groan. What had you gotten yourself into? Despite this you can’t bring yourself to kick him out. You don’t know why, perhaps it was the years of working alone in this dingy little shop of yours, that you found yourself yearning for company.

From his first visit, you never had thought his little sit-ins and chats would become more frequent, in fact, it was everyday. At the same time, after you’d open up, he’d stroll in taking his seat at the stool you had (not intentionally by any means), put out for him.

Your conversations would vary from calm to bickering, flirtatious and even trivial at times. It had become an almost quintessential part of both of your days. You hadn’t even realised that weeks had flown by.

“You know what’s so idiotic about these vampiric rules? That I have to be invited in first. What a chore,” he scoffs. You snort, “That’s quite the rule. Hilarious actually.” He bemoans as he rests his head atop the palm of his hand, “Believe me, that’s why I keep my prey-“ You correct, “People.”

He scoffs, “Alright, those people, that's why I usually feed outside. But in your case…I was unfortunately bound by such idiotic rules. Hence, the whole act. It worked though, you naively invited me in.”

You grab the crate of jars of ingredients to put up on the top shelf. Recently, Beomgyu had been helping you out here and there to your surprise. Not once has he even attempted to feed on you. It remains a lingering question in your mind, why wouldn’t he? Perhaps he was really that fond of you. Or was this some sort of elaborate scheme?

“Yeah, but you didn’t feed on me.” You muse as you tiptoe to put the crate up. A whoosh resounds behind you, as you suddenly find him behind you making you yelp startled. “Beomgyu, what the-“

He muses his fingers overlapping yours as you both grip the crate and he helps you put it atop the shelf; his breath caressing the curve of your neck, “I didn’t feed on you, though it doesn’t mean that I can’t in the future. You just…happened to be a soft spot of mine is all.”

You peer over your shoulder meeting his gaze, “Soft spot?” He hums, “Don’t dwell your pretty head on it for too long.” Beomgyu inhales deeply with a playful tone, “You still smell just as good. I can hear your little heart pounding away. Nervous?”

“You’re so close, how can I not be?” You mutter. A small laugh leaves his lips, “Ah, I can be much closer, you know?” You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Uh huh, yeah right. Now move.”

You go to move to the side but he suddenly grabs your shoulder, spinning you around and he pushes you against the wall with a mischievous glint in his sharp eyes. His hands grip your wrists pinning them beside your head. Beomgyu muses, “I think you forgot who you’re talking to here.”

Glaring, you murmur, “Move.” He coos, “My, my, aren’t you so demanding? Say please.” You glare, “This isn’t funny, Beomgyu.”

“You’re right it isn’t,” he fires back nonchalantly, “In fact, it just makes me feel hungry, seeing you pinned against the wall like this.” He leans in, “Look at you, you aren’t fighting back, again,” he chuckles, “You like this, don’t you?”

“Because I know you won’t do it,” you fiercely say, meeting his gaze. His pupils have dilated and rises have darkened into a murky colour. He smiles coyly, “I won’t bite into that delicate neck of yours? You’re so sure.”

Your wrists writhe against his grip, “Now stop fooling around, I have a lot of orders to get to. Because of you, I’m already behind.” He shakes his head, “Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, my sweet healer. The fun’s not over yet. You’re getting flustered aren’t you?”

Beomgyu’s lips near your ear, “Imagine if anyone walked in right now, hm? Goodness knows what they’d think we’re doing behind this counter having you pinned against the wall like this as I whisper sweet nothings in your ear, oh the scandal!”

You scoff shoving him aside and he releases a cackle as your cheeks flare in warmth and your heart races as unholy imagery floods your mind. The thought of it however, does sent a bolt of desire through you. Damn him!

“Idiot,” you mutter under your breath. Beomgyu chuckles, the tip of his tongue brushing over one of his fangs in sheer delight, “Oh you amuse me so much, little healer.”

“I do have a name you know?” You deadpan. “Oh I know, Y/n. You’ve not complained until now?” He shrugs. Fair point. Exasperated, you continue your duties as he remains to pester you once more.

Though one thing was for sure, as long as he was around, your heart wouldn’t stop fluttering. He wasn’t what you expected him to be, yet you can’t help but be pleasantly surprised by the turn of events. His presence certainly gave your life a bit of colour and vibrancy indeed.

The days pass by in a blur, something that’s never happened before. You’ve always loathed how slow the days went by, but now it seemed as though you couldn’t even keep up with them! As much of a…pest as he was, you grew to enjoy his company.

You close up your shop as you spot people rushing inside fearfully. People had already started rumours about the two of you. Huh, well, you were never one to care, you knew they’d always come to you for your remedies regardless.

The attacks had decreased in their frequency (with your hefty persuasion). Though they weren’t completely gone, after all, Beomgyu needed to survive. However he always assured you that he’d never kill anyone.

“Closing up are we?” A voice suddenly calls and you snap startled, “Stop doing that, Beomgyu!”He peers around the corner with stupidly attractive smirk as he ruffles his dark brown locks, “Oh? But you look so cute when you’re frightened.”

With a groan, “A pest. That’s what you are. To think I let you in.” Beomgyu’s eyes gleam darkly, “Oh don’t be like that, little healer. You love my presence. I believe it was the beginning of a very, very special little relationship.”

“Right,” you glare unamused. “Where were you this morning? You didn’t visit,” you ask. His smirk morphs into a grin, “Missed me?”

“No,” you fire out immediately. He muses walking towards you with a playful stride and his hands behind his back, “Mm, I was out hunting. I’ve been feeding on animals as of late, these pesky little villagers here have grown smarter in their tactics.”

You snort, “Not going to try to act injured again?” His eyes flash darkly, “Ah, well no one else is as naive as you to invite me in, healer. So no.” You scoff bitterly, “Alright, alright, easy now.”

“Anyway, I’m here now, I’m feeling a bit famished, however,” he eyes your neck, “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed for dinner would you?”

You glare, “I would mind.” Ignoring your words, he walks past you opening your door and walking in, “Oh, why thank you, my sweet, sweet healer. Such hospitality.”

You scoff, “I thought you had that rule about being invited in?” He grins peering over his shoulder, “Only applies once, sweet thing. Too bad isn’t it?” You huff walking behind him, “Of course it fucking does.”

With that, you find yourself in a rather domestic setting, having invited him upstairs, where your living quarters were. You chop your vegetables with ease as he sits at your worn-down dining table with a cocky smile, “Do you not have any meat? All these vegetables smell rather repulsive.”

“Didn’t you eat already?” You chide. Beomgyu hums, “Oh I did, but I don’t think a rabbit fills you up very much. Animal blood never has any substance to it, bitter too, eugh,” he grimaces. You gasp, “That poor thing!” He rolls his eyes, “Oh so I can’t even have animal blood now? There’s no winning, is there?”

With a sigh, you resume cooking in a comfortable silence. He liked watching you carry out your mundane tasks. He had lived for a long time, despite this, the way you did everything with so much care, such precision, it sparked interest in him. Time had become something fickle in his eyes, he had a lot of it, and well, not enough to do.

Though hanging around you has changed that. Something about your peculiarities, mannerisms that had him so intrigued. You were cautious yet open-minded, timid but also had a witty mouth. Oh, what pretty lips you had when you bickered with him. He really did love getting you all riled up, even more so, he loves getting you flustered.

Beomgyu’s gaze trails down your form, starting at your haphazardly put together bun revealing your tempting neck. How could you torture him so cruelly?

Instinctually, his tongue wets his lower lips; his fangs aching to protrude. The scent of your blood always lingered around you, tempting him constantly. He really did want to suckle on your neck, lick along your skin, perhaps leave a mark or two. However…he didn’t know if you could handle such rough treatment. You looked so…delicate?

Your unwillingness to immediately scream, run away the night he first came into your shop, your oddly calm demeanor despite the bubbling fear that he could so clearly see within you, it was unique. You never pushed him away. Even when he had his eye on you before the whole ordeal, he just found something ever so…endearing about you as you went about your routine.

So much so, he couldn’t bring himself to ravage your neck that night. Beomgyu considered it an act of mercy, after all, he was absolutely ravenous that night but…you had caught him off guard. So, he didn’t erase your memory like the others. He wanted you to remember him. Beomgyu had an inkling that you’d not tell anyone.

The more he spent time with you, the more he wanted to bite down, not just for the sake of feeding himself, he wanted to make you feel good. So good, that you’d beg him to bite your precious little neck and perhaps even a few other areas.

A sweet, resilient little herbalist in this dismal village, all to himself. What a devious thought, one that he relishes. Beomgyu stands, walking over to you and leaning his back against the counter flashing you his signature snarky smirk.

“You almost done?” He queries. Raising a brow, you answer, “Almost, yeah. Why? Not like you’re going to eat anything.” He snorts at your bluntness, “Mm, well, I am getting rather hungry. Just itching for a bite.”

“Very funny, Beomgyu,” you drawl sarcastically. Beomgyu shifts closer; his arm brushes yours as you make the final preparations. “I can’t help it when I have something as tempting as you in front of me,” he muses, his eyes going down your face.

He approaches you, caging you in with your back hitting the counter, his two arms brushing by your hips preventing you from escaping. There it was again, the expression he loved so much. A mixture of curiosity, fluster, a touch of desire. He leans down with an alluring smile, “Sweet healer, how long do you think we can go about this precarious little dance of ours?”

You hum trying to keep your composure, “Are you saying you only see me as food?” His cool exterior cracks and his eyes flash for a moment, a touch of remorse.

“No, of course not. If that were the case, I’d have fed on you the first time, or even the second. You know I’m just…” he peers away with a serious expression. Oh? Did he take your jest too seriously? His furrowed brows and slightly pouty lips - oh my god, he looked so…good.

“I’m just playing with you, joking around. I wouldn’t…do that. Not to you, at least… never,” he hesitates, “…you.” Never? He didn’t want to hurt you? Like genuinely? Your eyes trace along his ethereal features; your heart races. Perhaps your initial crush on the man before still lingered, well, it never went away, you suppose. You always felt breathless when he was around, flustered and most importantly happy.

You liked him. You liked…a vampire? You liked Choi Beomgyu.

He steps back almost as if he was reevaluating himself and you can’t help but smile. Huh, he took you too seriously. How cute. Your heart pounds. He really did care about you a lot. You grasp his arm pulling him back, peering up at him with a coy smile. His eyes meet yours with a hint of confusion, curiosity and desire. You murmur, “Did you take me seriously?”

“Were you being serious? You said it so seriously, I thought I hurt your feelings,” he murmurs lowly, his husky tone sending a shiver down your spine. Oh, you loved his voice.

You muse, “Mm, I was just teasing. I know you’d have done it long ago, erased my memory and have ran off.” His shoulders ease down in relief, “Right.” A giggle escapes you, “Look at you, a big scary vampire, afraid of hurting my feelings?”

His eyes flash dangerously and he murmurs, “Well you’re not just an ordinary human to me, are you? I don’t want you running off on me.”

Gazing up at him, you hum, “Why’s that? What’s so special about me?” You can’t help but let your eyes flicker to his lips. So kissable, they were.

This action doesn’t go unnoticed and his gaze darkens, “Oh has my sweet little healer morphed into a temptress?” Your cheeks feel hot as his gaze locks onto your lips.

“What’s so special about you, you ask? Well, you’re cornered by me, not just once, yet you never run. You’re the only one in this town who’s been willing to look past my appearance. Thirdly, I have a hunch that you’re not so averse to the idea of getting bitten, than these other cowardly villagers are,” he breathes leaning in.

The tip of his nose brushes against yours. He whispers, “Not to mention, what an attractive little thing you are. You had caught my eye from day one.” Your breath hitches as his hand slides up your arm cupping the back of your head, just above your neck, “You’ve no idea how many nights I’ve imagined you beneath me, on top of me, having your lips on mine.” Your knees almost buckle on the spot at his sinful words.

Breathlessly, you say, “You’re desperate for me?”His gaze glimmers warningly, “Don’t taunt me, healer.” His grasp tightens on the back of your neck.

You can’t help but smile as your foreheads touch, you close your eyes and breathe out, “Yeah? What are you going to do about it then?” He releases a small provoking laugh before latching his lips onto yours.

The kiss is initially soft, passionate, your hands cling to his shirt as the sweet sensation fills your senses. You realise very quickly, how addictive this could become. Moving your lips back against his; a low groan escapes him as he tilts his head kissing you deeper. A slow, seductive kiss that leaves your legs on the verge of buckling.

Both of you part from each other, lust clouding your senses. “That was…” he breathes. “…amazing,” you respond shakily. His lips quirk into a smirk, “Yeah, in fact, I want more,” with that he presses his lips against yours again, your arms wrap around his neck pulling him flush against you. His firm body against your soft one; it left you feeling weak.

This time he moves his lips more fervently, he parts your lips with his tongue with ease deepening the kiss. It was a long time coming, the mutual unspoken attraction and tension between the two of you had finally broken over the brim of composure. Beomgyu trails his lips along your jaw, you feel a hint of his fangs, sending a shiver down your spine. He moves further down your neck, his tongue darting out moistening the skin and leaving a trail of kisses.

Inhaling deeply, he murmurs, “Mm, fuck…your blood’s rushing.” You hum, your fingers running through the back of his hair, “Yeah?”

His lips suckle on the skin of your neck; a whimper escapes you. “God, you have no idea how much I want to…but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Is that why?” You breathlessly question, “Is that why you’ve not done it so far?”He responds; his eyes meeting yours and briefly meeting his lips with yours, “Don’t want to force you or hurt you. You mean a lot to me, I don’t want to treat you like some sort of prey alone.” Your neck tingles, your imagination running wild.

“Does it hurt that bad?” You inquire. He murmurs, “Well, initially it does, depends on how cooperative one is,” he rubs the bridge of his nose against the curve of your neck; his composure and patience waning by the minute. “You’d be surprised, some find it pleasurable after a while, some just hate it,” he muses.

“What do you think? You think I’ll like it?” You ask, feeling a flurry of boldness hit you. He stiffens against you and he straightens up peering into your eyes, “Do you understand what you’re implying here, healer?”

A smirk lines your lips, “If you fed on me, do you think I’d grow to like it?” His pupils dilate, and a shaky breath leaves his lips, “Sweet healer, you really are testing my resolve aren’t you? My patience has its limits, you know?”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips where you see his fangs ever so slightly protrude, “I know.” Beomgyu releases a frustrated groan tousling his locks, “Once I get a bite of you, you know I’ll come back for more. I won’t stop with one bite, I’ll yearn for it whenever we meet,” he warns. With a deep inhale, temptation gets the best of you, “So? I trust you. You won’t lose control.”

Beomgyu’s eyes morph into a darkness that sends your lower stomach spiralling as he whips closer to you with unimaginable speed, gripping your forearms pulling you flush against him. Cupping your jaw with his hand, he murmurs as though he's a second away from losing restraint. His hand slides down to your neck giving it a light squeeze and a small pleasant whimper escapes your parted lips, his eyes flash with desire. Smirking he muses, “Aren’t you a filthy little thing for enjoying that? Well, anyway don’t tense up, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His lips suckle against your skin tugging it lightly; his tongue wetting your skin before you feel a sharp pain pierce through you. “Ah fuck-!” You yelp, eyes clamping shut and you breathe shakily. That shit hurts like hell! He was right!

You grit your teeth trying not to tense; you feel it, your blood rushing through you, adrenaline pumping through your body at the sensation. The salacious sounds of him gulping down your blood seems almost erotic in a sense. Within a few seconds, the stinging morphs into something almost pleasurable. No, no almost, as twisted as it was, it felt…good? Well as good as something piercing your skin can get, you suppose. A mix of pain and pleasure…

Beomgyu cradles the back of your head, pulling your head back by your hair causing your lips to release a rather peculiar sound. With a ‘pop’, he unlatches from your neck and meets your gaze. Your vision is slightly blurry and your legs feel weak. He stopped?

He licks his lips and your eyes follow the trickle of blood down his chin. Your blood. He wipes it with the back of his before licking it, with succulent fervour. “Mm, just as I thought, fuck, you taste good and that sound, my, my.”

You peer at him dazed. Oh, how incredible you look all zoned out and lightheaded. Aren’t you a freakish little thing, enjoying this? He presses his lips to your fiercely; the metallic taste of your own blood permeating your mouth. The whole ordeal was sinfully addictive. You could get used to this very quickly.

Beomgyu presses a brief peck to your neck, licking up any remaining blood, “I can only imagine how good you’ll be in other circumstances and what other noises I can get that pretty little mouth of yours to make.” You tiredly mutter in defence, “No, I- that was..”

He muses letting your head rest on his chest, “Ssh, ssh, relax, my sweet healer. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood, the last thing I need is you fainting on me.” He wraps his arm around you enjoying your fatigued embrace. Closing your eyes, you hear his whisper, “You’re now mine, you hear that? I won’t let any other pitiful human lay their hands on you. Got that?”

His? Your eyes flutter open weakly peering up at him; his gaze is intense. You peer at his lips once more, cupping his jaw and pulling him down for a brief kiss; a metallic taste filling your tongue. Beomgyu hums parting from you, “You realise, what you’ve started between us right? I don’t plan to just go about my time. You’ve only made me want more of you.”

You wanted more of him too. Oh, you really did.

You don’t know what possesses you, or what about him is so sinfully addictive that has you saying the words, “Then take me,” you breathe out, “Take me as yours.”

“Don’t worry, you already are,” Beomgyu murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple as you succumb to your exhaustion.

Hm, you wonder what the other villagers would think if they knew you were the vampire’s new lover - they’d think you were deranged. Well, you deem that this one secret could remain that way. Just that.

A sinful little secret.

Taglist:

@f4iryfever @love-be0m @hyunelixbun @baekberrie @soohashits @sirenla @vicurious28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @matcha-binz @elara828

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look

Table of Contents:

Treat your skin like royalty

Take ample care of your natural hair

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape

Choose your accessories wisely

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple

Regarding your signature scent(s)

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously

Treat your skin like royalty:

Use high-quality skincare twice a day

Wear sunscreen every day

Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what

Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin

Change your pillowcases weekly

Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water

Prioritize sleep

Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks

Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed

Take ample care of your natural hair:

Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up

Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month

Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair

Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair

Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower

Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry

Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do

Use non-elastic or silk hair ties

Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)

Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:

Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)

Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences

Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits

Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)

Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day

Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack

Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions

Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants

When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit

If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look

Choose your accessories wisely:

Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with

Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette

Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette

For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:

Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer

Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone

Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)

Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush

Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids

Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:

Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails

Opt for a square or almond nail shape

Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art

Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily

Regarding your signature scent(s):

Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash

Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones

Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion

Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)

Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:

Floss every day (after each meal if possible)

Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day

Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover

Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF

Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms

Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)

Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub

Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower

Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 , PART 22 , PART 23 , PART 24 , PART 25 , PART 26 , PART 27 , PART 28 , PART 29 (You're here), PART 30

Gaius: (sighs) My boy, I don't think crying for your life to the King is going to work.

Merlin: Is not him I'm going to cry to.

Gaius: ...

Merlin: I know, I know. This is so absur-

Gaius: Brilliant! 😃 How didn't I think of this before? (quickly looks for some medicine and gives it to Merlin) Here, a couple of drops in your eyes should be enough.

Merlin: I can't believe you're really supporting this madness.

Gaius: Madness is what Arthur will do if you don't change his mind soon. (starts pushing Merlin out of his chambers) Now go, I can't keep the King assleep much longer. (ends to push Merlin outside and closes the door)

Meanwhile in Arthur's Chambers.

Arthur: (on his desk with a bunch of parchments with names, strategies and possible scenarios, thinking) This was not supposed to happen so soon. I had I plan goddamit! (sinks his face in his hands) Why father? Why do you always want to take away everyone I love? First Gwen and now...(sighs and gets the hands off his face) I hate you, so much... but I don't want to kill you. I don't want to do any of this, but I have to. You'd do the same for my mother. I hope you understand, because even now I can't bare the thought of you not forgiving me.

Merlin: (enters hanging his head)

Arthur: (letting out his frustration) May I know where have you been? 😡 This room is not going to clean itself. I have a lot of work to do and you are-

Merlin: (lifts his head to reveal two rivers of tears under his eyes, face red, hiccuping and whining)

Arthur: Merlin! (jumps from his sit and runs to Merlin, almost in panic) What is it?! Did something happen? (checks him, worried) Are you hurt?! Tell me!

Merlin: (thinking) Me eyes hurt! 🥺 Why does it have to burn this much? 😭(says) Please, Arthur, stop this! This is your fault! (hits Arthur's chest)

Arthur: What?! What did I do?! 😨

Merlin: (thinking) Shit, I did it backwards. (says) I mean, MY fault! (hits his chest) It's all my fault! (hits his chest harder) My fault, my fault!

Arthur: (very concern) Will you stop that?! You'll hurt yourself! Merlin! (grabs Merlin by the wrists) What's gotten into you?

Merlin: Please, Arthur. I can't-(thinking) Wait, I forgot to kneel. (drops to his knees)

Arthur: What the- 😨

Merlin: I can't live with myself if blood is spilled because of me! 😭 (tries to hold Arthur's hands, but can't see well through the tears so he ends up pulling his trousers in a crying mess)

Arthur: (definitely in panic now) What are you doing?! Merlin, stand up! My trousers are going to fall. Merlin! (kneels too and cups his face, comforting) I get that you're scared, but everything will turn out alright.

Merlin: (thinking) Nooo! It's not working! And I can't hug his legs now! (says) No! No! You have to stop this-Argh! (thinking) Damn it! It's burning too much! I can't open my eyes! (hides his face in his hands, pretending he's crying harder)

Arthur: (even more worried) Merlin look at me, please.

Merlin: (thinking) No! He'll realise I'm faking if I can't open my eyes. What do I do? What else was in Morgana's script? Oh, right! (says) If you do this, I… I'd rather… disappear! (faints dramatically)

Arthur: (catches him before he hits the floor in reflex) Merlin? (pats his face) Merlin! (shakes him) Merlin, open your eyes.

Merlin: (thinking) I can't. I fainted.

Arthur: Wake up, come on. Merlin! (Shakes him harder)

Merlin: (thinking) Ow! There is no need to be so rough. 😠

Arthur: (concern) He fainted.

Merlin: (thinking) Don't say!

Arthur: I need to take him to Gaius. (carries Merlin bridal style)

Merlin: (thinking) Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! why are you carrying me like this? 😳😫

Arthur: (Runs outside with Merlin in his arms and yelling) Gaius! (Runs through the castle staff) Everybody, get out of the way! It's an emergency! Gaius!

Merlin: (thinking) There's no need to be so dramatic either! 🤦‍♂️

In Gaius' Tower.

Arthur: (enters kicking the door open) Gaius!

Gaius: (looks Merlin in Arthur's arms, alarmed) What happened?!

Arthur: I don't know! He-

Gaius: Lay him on the bed first. I need to examine him.

Arthur: (Lays Merlin on the bed quickly)

Gaius: (while checking Merlin) Now explain.

Arthur: (paces, anxiously) He came to my chambers crying and saying that this was all his fault, hitting himself like a madman. Then he begged me to stop the rebel-the back up plan and he kneeled, Gaius, he KNEELED before me! When has he ever done that? I tried to calm him, but he just wouldn't stop crying! And then suddenly he fainted!

Merlin: (pinches Gaius subtly)

Gaius: (realices he's faking) I see... (gets an idea) Oh, my poor, poor boy.

Arthur: (stops pacing) What? What is it?

Gaius: It seems that Merlin is in a very bad state of... anxiety, Sire.

Arthur: Anxiety?

Gaius: Yes, that! He fainted from the anxiety. I know he doesn't show it always, Sire, but Merlin is very... sensitive. Sometimes his heart cannot bear strong impressions and, apparently, the approach of a rebellion was too much for his... delicate heart.

Merlin: (thinking, offended) That's not true! 😠

Arthur: (thinking, between concerned and confused) How can this be? Not even when his father died I've seen him so distraugh. Does the rebellion really worries him this much? (says) But he'll wake up, right? He'll be fine.

Gaius: He will, but I fear that... (dramatic pause)

Arthur: What? Tell me!

Gaius: If he continues receiving news that could cause him any anguish he could become seriously ill to the point his heart could... stop beating completely.

Merlin: (thinking) Really, Gaius? 🙄 What was the need of making up this diagnosis?

Arthur: (desperate) No... No! there must be something you can give him! Some medicine, a treatment, ANYTHING!

Gaius: The only thing that can help Merlin now is rest and tranquility. ABSOLUTE tranquility.

Arthur: (sinks in a chair nearby, filled with guilt) This is my fault, isn't it? He's like this because of me.

Merlin: (thinking) No, no, no. Don't think that! ☹️

Gaius: You had no way of knowing this would happen, Sire.

Arthur: What do I do now? If I keep up with my plan I lose him if I don't I lose him too. (looks up at gaius with watery eyes) I can't lose him, Gaius. (thinking) Not again, not again. Please.

Merlin: (thinking, his heart beating like crazy) He... He never cared for me like this in my other life. It feels... nice.

Gaius: (puts a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder) Rebellion is not the only answer. You said yourself it was just a back up plan. You can still reason with the King or we can put Merlin safe somewhere.

Arthur: But he'll be away.

Gaius: But safe. Isn't that what's important?

Arthur: ...

Gaius: Whatever it is you'll do, I know you'll make the right decision, your Highness.

Arthur: (sighs, stands up, aproaches Merlin and caresses his hand lovinly)

Merlin: (tries very hard for his heart and breathing to stay even)

Arthur: Tell me when he wakes. I need to take care of some things.

Gaius: Of course, Sire.

Arthur: (gives a last look at Merlin and finally leaves)

Merlin: (sits up as soon as the door closes) What the hell was that?! 😡

Gaius: That was me saving us all.

Merlin: "Anxiety"? "delicate heart"? "his heart could stop beating completely"? There was no need to scare him like that!

Gaius: You are the one who decided to faint. Why did you do that?

Merlin: Morgana told me to.

Gaius: (in understanding) Morgana! I should've known it was her idea.

Merlin: Yes, the idea was to use tears to persuade Arthur of not doing the rebellion. This is outright lying to him! And you know I hate lying to him, Gaius! (rubs his eyes) Ugh, my eyes still burn a bit.

Gaius: This should help (gives him a bowl with water and Merlin starts washing his eyes). I'm sorry I lied to Arthur, but I figured that if he was doing this rebellion to save you, the only way to stop him was if he believed you'll be in danger if the rebellion were to happen too.

Merlin: (sighs) What's done is done. (gets off the bed)

Gaius: What are you doing?

Merlin: Going to do my chores.

Gaius: You can't! You are supposed to be ill. Remember?

Merlin: So what? You expect me to stay in bed all day?

Gaius: That's exactly what you'll do. Now, lay down.

Merlin: But-

Gaius: Lay down.

Merlin: (recluntanly lays down) Can I read a book at least?

Gaius: I'll bring you some.

Time skip. Arthur with Kilgharrah.

Kilgharrah: I don't understand. Don't you want to start your reign, young Pendragon?

Arthur: Of course I do! But not at the cost of Merlin.

Kilgharrah: It's not just about saving him. It is Uther who persecutes Merlin and his kind. Even if Uther were to spare his life, which I doubt, your warlock won't be free until Uther dies.

Arthur: I know. But everything is getting out of my hands! I can't go back to my original plan and the back up plan is not an option now. (holds his head in desperation) How did everything turn out this bad? This never happened in my timeline!

Kilgharrah: Every change you've done, even if it was small, could lead to a complete different scenario. Being from the future won't prepare you for that.

Arthur: What do I do then? There's no pacific way to get out of this.

Kilgharrah: Maybe not pacific but, perhaps, a least violent one. Just enough to not worsen your warlock's state.

Arthur: Which is?

Kilgharrah: You needn't to involve others when the enemy is only one.

Arthur: ...

Kilgharrah: You already thought of it.

Arthur: (sighs) I did, I was just hoping you'll come up with something different.

Time skip. In Uther's chambers.

Gaius: (preparing another sedative)

Arthur: (enters) You don't have to do that anymore, Gaius.

Gaius: (turns to him, surprised) Sire!

Arthur: (smiles) Let him wake up. I want to speak with him alone.

Gaius: (nods in underdstanding) I'll prepare Merlin's things just in case.

Arthur: That won't be necessary, Gaius. Don't worry.

Gaius: ... Sire?

Arthur: (gives him a calm smile) You really don't have to worry, Gaius. I found I way to convince him. He won't be able to deny me this. You can go in peace.

Gaius: (unsure, but bows and leaves)

Arthur: (his smiles fades as soon as Gaius is gone, checks the doors are closed and then turns to Uther) This was not supposed to happen like this. (walks to the bed) I was going to give you an honorable dead, you were going to be remembered as a hero, even though you don't deserve it. You've hurt a lot of people, father. Murdered thousands of innocents in your grief... but aren't I about to do the same? Haven't I already done that to be where I stand? (pulls Uther's hair out of his face) It makes me wonder. Were you always a monster, father? Or you only turned this way when you lost my mother? You always insisted I marry for duty even though you married for love. Was it because you feared what I'll become if I were to fall in love like you? (lets a dry laugh) I guess what is inherited is not stolen. (grabs a pillow) There's a difference between me and you though. I'd never blame others for my own mistakes and I would never risk Merlin like you did with my mother. (holds the pillow close to Uther's face) I'm sorry.

Anhora: (appearing out of nowhere) Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur: (lets the pillow fall to the floor, almost jumping out of his skin, but quickly composes himself as he recgonises him) The keeper of the unicorns.

Anhora: Glad I don't have to introduce myself. I have come to deliver a message.

Arthur: (tired) Please don't tell me you'll curse Camelot. I don't have time for this. I let your unicorn go.

Anhora: For which I'm in debt with you. Whoever dares to slay a unicorn meets despair, but those who save one can be rewarded.

Arthur: Do you have an enchantment that can make my father forget all his absurd suspicions about Merlin? Because if you don't I don't know you how else you could help me.

Anhora: This is what I don't get. You spared the life of my unicorn, which is an act of a pure hearted person. Yet your heart is anything but pure. You are ready to enchant your father, to take his life just to fullfil your selfish desires.

Arthur: Is this my reward? A sermon?

Anhora: No. (gets a bracelet out of his pocket) this bracelet made of unicorn hair is a lucky charm. It could help turn chances at your favor, but it'll disappear as soon as you achieve your goal.

Arthur: You said could. You mean is not certain?

Anhora: You have to make your part and it'll only help you with one aim. The more short term and specific the better.

Arthur: That's a very useless lucky charm. 😒

Anhora: Useless or not it's yours. I beg you to use it wisely (extends the hand with the bracelet)

Arthur: (grabs it) Thank you.

Anhora: (about to leave, but turns) Prince of Camelot, if you keep down this pat you build and embrace the darkness in your heart to protect your love ones, that darkness will end up harming those you hold most dear.

Arthur: You think I don't know? You think I like doing what I'm doing? (laughs without humor) Is ironic. Where I come from you determined I was "pure of heart" for the same reason now you are determining I'm not. Because I wanted to save Merlin, to keep him safe. But even then I was willing to leave my kingdom without a heir just so he wouldn't die. My love was never pure.

Anhora: (with sadness) It was. It once was. One of the purest love I've ever seen. Or at least it could have been. Now it's corrupted.

Arthur: (surprised) You... you are-

Anhora: If something goes wrong this time, there will be no going back. And it will not be fate's fault. The blame will fall entirely on you, Arthur Pendragon. Are you prepared to assume the consequences of your actions?

Arthur: (serious) Yes.

Anhora: Then you are doomed (dissapears)

Arthur: (sighs and looks at the bracelet, thinking) This better work. (puts it on)

Uther: (wakes up) What…? Where am I?

Arthur: (takes a chair nearby and sits next to him) In your chambers, father. You had a seizure.

Uther: (still kind of groggy) Oh...

Arthur: Father, I know Merlin behaved very poorly and I take complete responsability for that. I've given him too many liberties since he is under my service. I failed to properly teach him how he should adress his superiors and for that I'm sorry. It won't happen again, but please, I beg you, spare his life.

Uther: (smiles softly) Alright, I'll spare him.

Arthur: (very surprised) Really? (thinking) This thing is more effective than I thought!

Uther: (smiles more brightly) Of course! Anything for my son.

Arthur: (thinking) ...okay, something's wrong. (says) Father, how many fingers do you see? (raises 3 fingers in front of his eyes)

Uther: Hmmm... Six!

Arthur: (lets out a sigh of exasperation, thinking) No! He's still drugged! It won't matter if he spares Merlin's life now, he'll take back his words as soon as he comes back to his senses...unless... (stands up and searches around the room quickly)

Uther: What are you doing son?

Arthur: (picks a parchment and a quill and sits back next to Uther) Can you show me how you sign your treates, father? I want to see if I'm doing it correctly.

Uther: My son, always looking for perfection. Alright. (signs)

Arthur: (thinking, looking at the parchment) The writing is stable enough. (says) Father, I just remember there are some urgent documents that need to be signed. I really don't want to bother you, you've just woken up, but you're the King. You're the only one the can do it.

Uther: I understand. You can bring them to me.

Arthur: I'll be right back. (stands up and goes to the door)

Uther: Arthur!

Arthur: (turns around)

Uther: I love you, son.

Arthur: (thinking, holding back the tears) Of course the only times you've told you loved me would be when you're drugged or in your deathbed. (says) I love you too, father. (leaves)

...

Anhora I hate you for stopping Arthur from killing Uther but I also love you cause now Arthur can go back to his original plan :D

How will Uther react when he comes back to his senses? Will Merlin really be safe? Find out in the next part of "Merlin: The Favourite of crocodile tears"

Also credits to my best friend Rosangela, who is practically beta and almost co-writer of this AU now.

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @cute-girl-next-door , @bogslob , @tkmaras , @cunts-and-kermits

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | midoriya izuku, part one

Midoriya's route of soulmate trope. Part two here. “this doesn’t match the manga’s canonical ending!�� correct. and isn’t that sexy? please read this route last, as it contains spoilers for all other routes. warnings: female reader. manga spoilers up to 411ish. angst. sexual content. moderate injury (not reader). indulgently meta on behalf of the author. a note: some meta elements in this route may lead you to think it’s the true route for this fic. not necessarily. the true route is whichever one is your favourite :) ~57k overall. ~39.5k for part one.

“Aizawa-sensei, you’re good at sleeping.”

Aizawa rubbed his good eye with the heel of his palm, propping his forearm on his doorframe to support his weight. “It’s certainly what I’d like to get back to doing,” he said through a yawn.

“No, please, I—may I come in? This is kind of important.” You glanced over your shoulder towards Eri’s and Tenko’s dorms down the hall, both without light emanating from underneath the doorways.

“Kind of?” The sleeve of his dark t-shirt strained as his bicep tensed and relaxed when he let his arm fall to his side again. “You woke me up for kind of important?”

Sucking in through your teeth, you said, “I lied. It’s really important. Possibly the most important thing to happen to me since the war. And you’re the one most likely to be able to help.”

Aizawa glared at you, narrowing his good eye and shifting his jaw. But he stepped aside to let you pass, gesturing towards his kitchen table. “Why am I not surprised?”

***

You jolted awake, and you were wet.

Damp, really. Dew-heavy strands of grass crawled up to brush your sides, catching the morning chill, and hey, why were you sleeping outside?

Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you pushed yourself upright and took in some sort of clearing with little vegetation besides yellowed weeds and shrubs stretching out to a dense treeline. The sun hadn’t appeared to have been in the sky long, but you’ve been here for a while based on how soaked through your clothes were these weren’t your clothes.

What were you wearing? Had someone bothered to dress you on top of dragging you out of reach of civilisation? Moreover, were they—you held your breath, taking in the weird half-gloves that had an intricate, painted floral pattern—some stranger LARPer?

Gracious, they’d put you in a corset, and you’d slept in it. Well—you felt along your spine for the ties—at least they’d loosened it for you? Huh. Layered with some kimono-style top that actually looked like it could’ve belonged to you, but the trousers and boots were unrecognisable.

But everything fit you, and fit you well. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment heist; this had been thought out, definitely by some deranged role-player. Even down to the props inside a battered pack nearby (starting with knitted socks, two other kimono tops, and a traditional tea set), this had been planned.

Shoving the socks back inside the pack, you scanned the clearing again in hopes of catching a camera lens, but all you could make out was the morning breeze’s light rustling of leaves and grass.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at shuffling and a quiet grunt: a taller sweep of dying grass had blocked you from discerning another person sleeping near you. With caution, you—

A groan came from their direction as they flipped over to stretch, along with the bitter murmuring of “That didn’t feel like more than three hours.”

Pushing the taller grass out of the way, you grinned in relief, scrambling over to Shinsou as his bleary, dark-circled eyes blinked up at you. “Hey, Shinsou,” you said, “Do you know what’s going on?”

He folded his arm behind his head, his mouth crooking up in a weary smile. He had on some strange, LARPer get-up, too: archer’s gloves, a faded armguard running up the inside of his forearm, some fucking medieval whore outfit that accentuated his waist (but your LARPer kidnapper, at least, gave Shinsou the courtesy of making it somewhat resemble his hero costume). “Still disoriented? Yeah, I think we shouldn’t’ve rushed the Gauntlet yesterday. I don’t think any of us even got out our bedrolls. Still, we don’t have to do it again.”

Huh?

“Are you asking where Touya and Monoma are?” Shinsou pushed up enough to lean back on his elbows, and he tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut. “You were the one who assigned them breakfast, remember? They’re probably scoping out that brook fifteen minutes back.”

A deep-set dread sank into you like an anchor into too-shallow swamp water. Shinsou was acting like this was normal, like there was a routine, and you were the one out of the loop. Where were you? What were you doing here? Were you—and the thought made your throat run dry—the only one out of place?

You may not know what’s going on, but the thing to do now is collect information. For that, you have to act like everything’s fine. “Yeah, you’re right,” you said, examining the flock of birds in flight embroidered onto your kimono top, “I’m a bit out of it, I suppose, from not sleeping long enough. You said three hours? Feels like we were asleep twenty minutes.”

(Shinsou had used minute as a unit of time, so you could use it. Good to know something was the same as back home.)

“Too bad we’ve got to get going after breakfast,” said Shinsou, sighing as he sat up fully and running a hand back through his hair, which sprung back upright despite his flattening it, “We should start a fire before the others get back, just to speed up the process.”

You fumbled your way through starting a fire, but the two of you got one going. Shinsou rooted around in one of the rucksacks you hadn’t noticed earlier, next to a pair of crunched silhouettes in the grass, untouched by morning dew, to retrieve Monoma’s cast iron rotisserie spit, fish-shaped trammel hook, and tin percolator, along with two of the mismatched enamel mugs bought back in Renfield…

Your eyes glazed over as Shinsou dug the two ends of the iron spit on either side of the fire. How do you know that? Why is your brain supplying words for things you don’t recognise? But you had this information, regardless, and something in your gut told you that it was accurate.

You could picture the Renfield shopkeeper who sold the mugs to you.

“Will you wipe those down, please?” Shinsou set the mugs into your lap and opened his own pack for the coffee, which you’d known he’d stored there, in that outermost pocket, because he was encouraging it to get crushed.

With a cloth stored with your tea set, you cleaned both mugs slowly, wiping the black insides before the blue and cream-coloured outsides.

The brewing coffee smelled just like Shinsou’s flat back home.

“Pass me a cup?” Shinsou asked, eyes on the flame while he held out his hand.

The cream-coloured one was yours. Your gut said so. You placed the blue mug into Shinsou’s palm. He hardly glanced at it, but he shot you some sort of look you couldn’t understand.

You were drinking your unsatisfying, campfire coffee when Monoma and Touya showed up, laden with four, silver fish and a duck, for some reason, under Touya’s arm like a football. And oh, Monoma was Monoma, clear as day by his loud, barking yet melodic voice, but you hadn’t expected this Touya to be fucking Dabi.

(Sure, you tried to calm yourself down, taking another large gulp of coffee as they both settled down around the fire next to you, overly familiar and making too much noise this early in the morning.

Back home, Todoroki Touya had been living with his family, heavily reformed [?] and in therapies, both for his brain and his body. Beyond a curt introduction at a formal event, you hadn’t personally interacted with Touya outside of the battlefield, years ago. So, why is he with you now?

Moreover, why are you with this particular combination of people in the first place?)

“Hold him,” said Touya, plopping the duck into your lap, where it loafed like a cat, and he unhooked the first fish from the line to toss it to Shinsou, who was ready with a clean knife.

You averted your gaze from the gutting, knowing in your heart of hearts that you’ll have to eat that without looking disgusted. Sighing, you patted the duck on its head and stared down at it, reaching for its name through whatever memories you somehow had, and it settled its neck into the crook of your folded leg, making a contented noise that was not quite a quack.

Don’t tell me, you thought, lifting your hand from its back, This duck is someone I know, transformed into a duck.

***

“Enough about the duck,” said Aizawa, clanging his Put Your Hands Up Radio mug onto his kitchen table.

“The duck is important,” you said, holding your excellent, non-campfire coffee close enough that the steam billowed into your face, “I love the duck. His name is Granddaddy Slapkins.”

Aizawa clapped his hand to his forehead. “Is he anyone we know?”

“No, he’s just a duck. But he’s as much a part of the party as anyone else,” you said, as Aizawa’s cat, Konpeito, leapt onto the table and rubbed the upper curve of her tail on your face. “Oh, I love you, too, baby,” you said to her, free hand sinking into her thick fur, “I know you’re real.”

Aizawa dragged his hand down his face. “So, to confirm, you don’t believe the events you just described are real.”

“That’s the thing: I don’t know. At first, I thought it was just a silly, fantasy-themed dream with some people I know in real life. But it got stranger,” you said, scratching just before the base of Konpeito’s tail, arching her back in a stretch, “It wasn’t a one-off dream. I kept going back, to the exact spot where I left off. No inconsistencies or plot-holes, like dreams usually do. I go to sleep here, and I wake up in this fantasyland. I go to sleep there, and I wake up here.”

Aizawa squinted to ascertain how much time was left on the oven for the muffins. “Are you getting any rest from this, if your consciousness is active throughout it all?”

“I am,” you said, considering the fact for the first time, “Should I not be? Now that you say it, it seems obvious that I should be exhausted all of the time.”

“If you were exhausted, I’d be more inclined to think that these weren’t just dreams.” Aizawa tapped his fingers on the table, trying to attract Konpeito. “The fact that you aren’t grounds you in this reality. It rules out something as far-fetched as—as living in different universes or timelines.”

You laughed through your nose. “Come off of it, Aizawa-sensei. Not very logical of you to entertain ideas that impossible.”

Rising as the oven timer beeped, Aizawa blinked slowly at you, mouth curving into an oddly soft smile. “I tend to consider the impossible, when it comes to you.”

“I’m glad you have such faith in my total incompetence,” you said, holding your mug at arm’s length to prevent Konpeito from lapping at your coffee, (though she was trying to climb onto your arm to get it), “So! The second time it happened, I was weirded out but chalked it up to coincidence. The third time, I tried to figure out if anyone were from here and now, like me.”

***

“Shinsou,” you said, hanging back on the winding, mountain path while Monoma and Touya trudged ahead, “I’ve been thinking. Do you think we could source some milk at the next town? I’ve been craving a cappuccino.”

Shinsou tightened a rucksack strap over his shoulder, hiking it farther up his back. “A what?”

“Oh, a cappuccino? Cappuccinos? I thought we talked about them before. Just for, y’know, adding some variety to our routine.” You tripped over an exposed root but caught yourself. “If that isn’t a good option, we could skip milk and just try to brew espresso instead. If that’s okay.”

Shinsou pointedly stepped over the root. “Forgive me for not remembering. Remind me what exactly those are?”

“Oh, uh.” How anachronistic would it be if you explained what they really were? “Energising. Spells. Energy spells that require milk, y’know, as an organic component.”

“Ah. That would be why we haven’t used them yet,” said Shinsou, nodding, “since milk doesn’t keep long when we’re on the road. Perhaps when we have a consistent source, we can try them out.”

***

Aizawa swallowed his bite of muffin. “Well. It’s not the Shinsou we know, for certain.”

“Yeah. It makes me feel like I’m in the twilight zone, that I can look at my best friend and know things we’ve done together that he has no recollection of,” you said, steering Konpeito away from a loose chocolate chip, “And Monoma didn’t recognise the plot of Lord of the Rings when I started to tell it over the campfire one night, and Touya didn’t say anything when I Naruto-ran—”

“Those aren’t foolproof.”

“But the Shinsou one is.”

“Hm,” said Aizawa, mouth full, and he fiddled with the band on his night eyepatch. “And they’re the only people you’d seen.”

“Up to that point. We’d been travelling to this town, Alderside—beautiful place, really, nestled along this ghastly mountain range with bad roads, fabulous spring festival—”

“Why did Shinsou accept that a cappuccino was a spell? Is he an idiot?”

“Oh, uh. That would be because there’s magic there. Spells are normal,” you said, biting into your muffin.

Aizawa shook his head, glaring into his coffee. “If you ever tell anyone else this story—which I advise that you don’t—give that information earlier. It sets the tone for how ridiculous this is.”

“Yeah, I—sorry about that,” you said, scratching the underside of your chin, “Forgot. Magic has become so normal to me, in that context, that I forgot that it’s not implied.”

“Do you do magic?” Aizawa sat back in his chair. “Are there quirks?”

“Yes and no, and then to an extent.” You moved your muffin out of Konpeito’s way. “To the best of my knowledge, no one has a quirk exactly like we have here, but I’ve found that people’s magic usually mirrors their real quirks somehow. Monoma’s an illusionist—uses magic to make copies of himself or whomever we’re fighting, and if he’s made that particular copy a lot, then that copy can use their magic. Touya’s magic is this sort of freezing fire; I don’t really get how it works, but it means we can’t rely on him to cook by himself.”

“All right. Is the magic something you’re born with, then, similar to a quirk?”

“It’s hard to say, Aizawa-sensei; sometimes I think I have it figured out, but life’ll throw me a wrench. You can study different types of magic, sure—for example, Shinsou’s studying necromancy right now. But I think everyone has a natural talent for a certain type of magic, and you have to try a lot of different kinds to figure it out. So, effectively, there are quirkless-slash-magicless people, because it’s a hassle to find out what you’re skilled at out of thousands of types of incredibly specific magic.”

“I’m assuming what magic you’ve learnt is highly specific and useless?”

“Oh, rude! That is rude, and mean, and accurate! Shut up,” you said, grumbling into your muffin before taking an angry bite out of it and rushing to swallow with a dry throat. “But the main thing is that I didn’t learn this stuff. I already knew it when I got there. I have a whole different life I’ve apparently lived.”

***

Over a week’s worth of living in this unfamiliar world while you slept had you feeling uneasy and isolated. Moreover, you missed being able to fully trust your best friend. While washing your filthy socks by a riverbank, you made up your mind to confess to this Shinsou that you lived in a place called Japan and were at a loss for why you were here now.

You returned to camp, wrenching the water out of everyone’s socks before hooking them to a shitty clothesline near the fire. Monoma, half-asleep, was turning the spit over the fire, while Touya was distracting Granddaddy Slapkins with oats while he tried to repair a hole in his boot (Touya was trying to repair a hole in his own, human-sized boot, not that he was trying to fix a duck-sized boot—obviously). Shinsou was scanning necromantic glyphs from a handwritten book, but his eyes kept drifting closed too often to be absorbing information.

“Hey, Shinsou,” you said, gathering everyone’s sweat-stained undershirts, “Come with me to the river? I know it’s my turn to do laundry, so you don’t have to do anything, but I think I just may fall in if I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

Taking a few moments to register your words, Shinsou blinked blearily up at you, and, snapping himself out of it, he slammed his book shut. “Yes,” he said in a stilted voice, and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, let me come with you.”

Weaving through the trees behind you, Shinsou carried his shirt and Monoma’s down to the river, claiming that he should have to deal with his own sweat, and if you did all four by yourself, you wouldn’t get back to camp before the Night Wyrms started wandering (the what? You pulled your cloak closer).

You knelt on the rocks, set the soap and scraping knives between you, and started wetting your undershirt’s sleeve (yours was a slightly thicker fabric than Touya’s, so yours would take longer to dry. Better do it first—and again, this routine already was imprinted in your brain, like it was instinctual).

“Hi,” you said eventually.

“Hello,” said Shinsou, hunched closer to the ground than you were so that he could squint through the water while he rubbed at a bloodstain on Monoma’s shirt. “Come here often?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Historically, yes, but if it’s funny, I’m afraid I’ll have to tell everyone. What’s on your mind?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and bit the inside of your cheek, grimacing. How do you say this? Since this world has magic, it’d be easier to take, but—

He flicked water off of his fingers. “Does this have anything to do with how bizarre you’ve been for the past two weeks?”

“Wha—whoa, what? Shinsou, what do you mean?”

 “That,” he said, nodding, “First of all, you haven’t called me Shinsou this consistently since we were ten. Call me Hitoshi right now.”

“Wha—? Hitoshi,” you said, thrown off.

“Good. You’ve been scaring me.” Shinsou finally scraped a tough splotch of blood away, and it flecked and disappeared into the water. “Now, what’s wrong? Did running the Gauntlet that quickly make you develop amnesia? Do you have a conditional curse on you that you can’t tell everyone?”

“Wow. You are the same in every universe.” Grabbing the soap, you scrubbed at the sweat stain on a kimono sleeve. “Overattentive to the point where it’s helpful. How irritating.”

“Hm,” he said, rubbing his knife underwater, “So. You’re not the woman I grew up with.”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s going on? She still in there?”

“Yes. I’m also her, but not,” you said, glowering at the flaky soap, “Everything you experienced with her is still here. I know all of that. I've lived all of that. It’s as if I have overlapping lives right now, because I have those memories and memories of what I consider my real life—and I know a version of you there.”

“Is he as pretty as me? Bet not,” said Shinsou.

“Well, he has access to mousse, so his hair’s a bit better, but I think you’re winning in terms of ruggedness. Living outside, and all.” You pursed your lips. “But no, I’ve started coming here when I go to sleep there. To me, this is a dream.”

Shinsou paused. “I’m glad you like it here?”

“Okay, you daft dimbo, you know what I meant. A sleep-dream, ongoing, and when I go to sleep here, I wake up back in reality. My reality, I guess.”

“No wonder you haven’t had a lot of stamina lately. You know we’ve had to slow our pace down, right?”

“I don’t go hiking; Bakugou took me once and yelled at me, so I don’t wanna do that anymore.” You tilted your head. “Do you know Bakugou?”

“Another friend from your reality?”

“Yes. I wonder if he’s somewhere here, too? I know Monoma and Touya, too. What was I—” You cut yourself off and sighed. “I know everything that’s happened to me in this life is in my brain, but it’s slow-surfacing. Usually, something has to jog my memory a bit before I remember something fully. So, we did grow up together?”

Shinsou nodded. “Same castle town. Both in families serving the king.”

“Really?” Cute. Memories of running together around cobblestone streets and murky hallways surfaced. “Same job, or?”

“I happen to come from a long line of—” He coughed. “—torturers and executioners, and you were the first in your family to pursue poetry.”

Your fist curled around the soap. “I’m sorry; I must have hallucinated. What?”

“You didn’t want to be a jester, like the rest of your family, so you studied to be a bard—”

“Please tell me you are lying to me,” you said, grabbing Shinsou by his kinky, medieval collar and yanking him towards you, “Please say that you are getting back at me for spilling coffee on your bedroll.”

Shinsou blinked, once, twice, and then a wide, toothy grin stretched across his face.

Releasing him with a groan, you pouted and scrubbed at a stain while the memories came flooding back. You had been studying to get out of foolery, and being a bard had been the most enjoyable way out. “We were friends, and we had life plans. I happen to notice that I don’t carry an instrument with me. Am I not a bard?”

“You quit once we figured out what type of magic you’re skilled in. Around the same time King Todoroki banished you from the castle for unsavoury verse.”

Swallowing that salami slice of crazy information, you asked the question that was easiest to talk about, now that memories were coming back: “Todoroki Enji? The king?”

“Correct. But don’t feel bad about being banished; you get bad luck just by being near the man. His own marriage is in name only, and one of his kids is missing—”

“Only one?”

“Technically two, but we know where Touya is. Prince Shouto’s whereabouts are unknown. But more pressing is that you don’t appear to remember your magic?” Shinsou scratched the back of his neck. “We’re gonna hit Alderside soon, and the reason they summoned us is your technique.”

“Explain it to me,” you said, spreading your wet undershirt across a dry rock, deciding it was clean enough, and you checked the sky. “Do we have time before night falls?”

You’d apparently studied and become very skilled at two types of magic (which was a low number of magic disciplines; most people studied around three to five types but never become great at them). The first type explained some of your luggage: it was a support technique involving a shortened tea ceremony. While the rest were in a physical battle, you trapped everyone within a certain area, the breadth of which depended on what type of tealeaves you used. From glyphs painted from the dregs of the last ceremony, tea sprigs would sprout out of your forearms. You’d harvest and process them, with magic speeding the process all the way to serving and drinking. Everyone within the boundary was compelled to physically stay within it until the end of the tea ceremony, and occasionally, though you had no control over whom this affected, a fighter would be compelled to sit and complete the ceremony with you. Their drinking the tea would weaken them, usually in endurance, but not by much. Your previous memories informed you that you had been working on brewing teas that had greater magical effects.

“You really only need your whisk; you’ve just been carrying around that teaware for misdirection, and everything else is conjured from the glyphs on your arms,” Shinsou was telling you on the way back, burdened with wet-wrung shirts, “So, you’re not directly fighting, but you’re valuable support.”

“So, why does a whole town need a tea ceremony?”

“Oh, they don’t want you for that one.” Shinsou held back a branch for you to pass into camp. “They want you because you’re a soulwalker.”

The rest of the journey to the town of Alderside, Shinsou didn’t explain. Said you’ve never talked about how it works because you didn’t know. Soulwalking was rare. Soul magic was one of the extremely few types of magic that couldn’t be studied: you could either do it, or you couldn’t, and almost everyone couldn’t. You’d never met anyone else who could.

It’s why the group of you get jobs across the country: something will go awry in the mirroring spirit realm, and you’d leave your body behind for your party to protect, while you—your soul—wandered through the spirit realm.

Monoma showed you the letter that you’d gotten by hawk from the mayor: Alderside periodically was engulfed by a purple fog. Every night and occasionally during the day, it acted as a totally blinding smokescreen that could teleport someone around town and the surrounding cliffs. They wanted you to come investigate so that they could travel at night again, before someone could be teleported off the mountain entirely to fall to their death.

Something that Shinsou had neglected to tell you was that you had a reputation. When your party rounded the last bend of the mountain before Alderside, you were greeted with a loud, excited clamour from a gathering of five, the leader of which embraced you on sight and exclaimed into your ear that she was pleased as punch that the Dango Lady was finally here.

Otherwise trapped in the hug, your head whipped towards Shinsou, who, after a moment, gathered himself and nodded. “Thank you,” you said into her pastel pink hair, stiffly raising your arms to return the hug and wondering why you’d been content with calling your professional persona the Dango Lady, “I hope we can meet your expectations and solve your problem.”

She pulled back, hands sliding down to grip your forearms (Were all citizens in this town this touchy, or was it just her? Based on the similar way your friends were being greeted, perhaps physical touch was integral to this area’s culture). “Hi,” she said, her cloud-fluff earrings bobbing as she spoke, “I’m the one who summoned you; I’m Fuwa Mawata, the mayor of Alderside. You’ve come just in time to salvage our spring festival in two days. If this smokescreen persists, we may not be able to have it, and this festival hasn’t been cancelled in over two hundred years now.”

Giving your wrists a squeeze, Fuwa dropped your arms with a gentle smile, and she glanced over the rest of your group, taking a step towards Monoma. “I’m afraid I don’t have any more details other than what I’ve said in the letter,” she said towards you, standing on her tiptoes to rest her chin on Monoma’s shoulder while she hugged him, “But I can guarantee that you’ll have a safe spot to perform your ritual, and we’ve set aside the best rooms in our inn for you.” She released Monoma (looking rather alarmed) and moved onto Touya, unable to push her away because of his tight grip on Granddaddy Slapkins’s carrier. “Whatever supplies you need, we will do our best to provide. Perhaps you’d like to drop off your belongings at the inn and then visit our magic shops?”

“That sounds faaaaaaaantastic,” said Monoma, tightening the straps on his pack for the third time that day (it was his turn to carry most of the cast-iron cookware again), “Thanks for your hospitality. Dare I—may I ask what the bathing situation is at your inn?”

“You may,” Fuwa replied, and there’s something in the way that Shinsou’s entire body froze when Fuwa wrapped her arms around his neck (she’d kept them around the torso for the rest of you), how his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline above wide, panicked eyes, and how he didn’t even try to return the embrace, arms rigid and hesitant—something that made you realise you’ve seen her before, but you didn’t know where.

(Later, when you were awake, you’d find her instagram. She’d been in the year above you at U.A., and, thinking back, she’d had a crush on Shinsou. When she’d graduated, she’d even asked him for his second button, and when he’d evaded by pointing out he wasn’t wearing the school cardigan that day, she gave Shinsou her button.)

Fuwa and the rest of the committee escorted your party through Alderside. Your first impression of it was that it was bright. Half of the town’s buildings were carved directly into the mountain, the natural rockface reflecting the sun with a harsh glare, and the rest were neatly whitewashed and embedded with shining stones that formed a mosaic, each one depicting a different scene from the town’s history, broken up only by stained glass windows, glinting and glittering with any shred of sunlight they could grasp, and stained-glass windchimes dangled from roofs and archways, clinking in the crisp, morning breeze. Your boots even clinked a bit on the streets, since they, too, were crafted with reflective stones in a mosaic, this one meant to resemble a river.

“I apologise about the level of noise,” said Fuwa, holding open the door to the inn herself, “We’re still preparing for the spring festival regardless, so we’re more hectic than usual.”

“Noise is good,” Touya said, “It’s when it’s quiet that you’ve got to be on guard. My friend won’t be a problem, right?” He shifted Granddaddy Slapkins underneath his arm.

You’ve never been more grateful to have a separate room from Touya. Shinsou conked out on his bed in your shared room the minute you’d set your bags down, and Touya, despite trying to nurse a mug of apple cider, was drifting off in his chair.

Monoma folded his cards on the table when Touya’s forehead finally rested on it. “Well, I don’t think I’m going to win this hand,” Monoma said, gathering his cards and Touya’s, “Now that we’ve eaten, I am more than aware of how disgusting we are. Fuwa had better not have been lying about their hot water.”

“Tell you what,” you said, sliding your cards over to him, “Why don’t we both bathe and head out to their market? We can resupply while these two are sleeping. Plus, we can garner what the general public’s thoughts on this smokescreen are.”

Forty-five minutes later (Monoma took long showers), you were going from shop to stall, weaving your way through the townspeople preparing the festival, having to duck out of their way when they turned corner bearing what you thought was an excessive amount of firewood, all carved with colour-coded runes, along with planks for temporary game stalls and what looked like a maypole but a person carrying it was quick to tell you was called a spring-stick.

Since you were going to soulwalk that night, you went ahead to the magic shops while Monoma fossicked around for the usual travelling supplies to cut the outing in half. After going over the list with him again (“Socks, especially, Monoma. Everyone in our group always goes through so many socks.” “One of these days, we should all learn how to knit.”), you headed downtown and he uptown.

Alderside’s four magic shops were all carved into the mountainside together; the only reason they weren’t one, big store was because the owners wanted to have clear boundaries between inventory type. You opened the door, bell clanging, to the enchantment quarter.

(Enchantments were the most powerful category of magic, more potent than other disciplines like sorcery, witchcraft, and warlockry. Soul magic was a type of enchantment, and so was your tea ceremony, though that was balanced with one of the lowest types of magic, herblore.)

You felt a little pretentious walking into the enchantment quarter, where magic users who clearly knew what they were doing were sifting through the racks—although there was ostentatiously just a magician in here; shouldn’t he be where the sound-based merchandise is—because you still felt like you were just some normal person, from a world of quirks and heroes instead of magic.

When Monoma eventually came meandering in, chewing on some locally made, closest-thing-to-gummy, peach candy, you could’ve sworn he was the Monoma you knew awake. He didn’t even manage to get across the shop floor to you before he stopped to riffle through a ribbon-bound book and frowning at the first illustration. He bent his head to the side to get a better look, jaw chomping down, before shaking his head and heading towards you.

Monoma made a big show of sliding up next to you at the botanical display, and he popped the collar of his shirt, not noticing how it immediately folded again. “Golly gee, miss,” he said, affecting some accent that was definitely not local and exacerbated further by the peach gummy in his cheek, “I reckon I’ve never seen you around these parts. I’d be delighted to show you around this here festival, if you let a varmint like me even grovel to be in your presence.” Monoma lifted the tiny bag of peach candy from his coat pocket to offer you some.

“Thanks, Monoma,” you said, taking one and popping it into your mouth, “How’d your end of the trip go?”

“Very well. No obstacles,” he said, dropping the silly voice and onto his elbows as he leant against the display table, propping his chin on both of his fists, “Got the non-perishables easily, and of course I was able to haggle the price down for the supplies we buy in bulk. I was able to get two extra pairs of socks thrown in, but we’ll have to fight for who gets them.”

You traced the brittle branch of a potted, staked vine, labelled as Cat’s Clover, but as it bore no leaves, you couldn’t discern why. “Fine by me.”

“I was also barraged by a curator at their local museum who didn’t care that I had better things to do. Have you heard that this spring festival is supposed to be a final splurge on the winter store before the spring planting? Two days from now, it’ll be eight hours of partying, and then they’ll climb to the top of the mountain to plant the first crops of the year.”

“Is that why I’ve been seeing onions and leeks everywhere?” you asked, giving a featherlight tap to the single bud on the vine.

“Yeah, it’s the festival’s symbols. Same with why there’s so much green and white.” Monoma flicked the tiny leaf of a potted shrub as if it’d personally offended him. “By the way, if someone gives you a packet with a single seed in it, don’t do anything to it yet. If you crack open the shell too early, the spell won’t work. You’re supposed to open it the dawn of the planting, and whatever flower grows from it—it bursts fully grown from the shell—is supposed to tell what your year is gonna be like. Looks like they have flower symbolism guides,” said Monoma, jerking his head towards the checkout, “We should pick one up on our way out.”

“Got it. If it’s that significant to the festival, we’ll probably be getting ours from Fuwa,” you said, peering into a bell-shaped bloom, “Hopefully there won’t be any sort of ceremony about it. I’d like to get in and get out without being seen by many people.”

“Oh! Speaking of not being seen. I saw a liripipe hood you’ll like. I didn’t get it, because I think you should see it first, but,” Monoma said, pausing, a sneaky little grin growing when you caught his eye, “it’s got buttons, so you could attach it to your surcoat, if you wanted, and it’s embroidered. Got that type of floral motif that you like so much.”

You raised an eyebrow. You hadn’t mentioned to anyone that you’d decided you needed another hood, but if it’s a liripipe hood—you’d probably be able to fit all of your hair into it, keeping it cleaner for longer in this filthy place without your normal conditioner—and he must have noticed how you’ve been acting since your last hood was destroyed, absent-mindedly reaching for it and adjusting without it.

“I’ll bite,” you said, already thirsting for it in the back of your mind, “I want to see it, at least, but since someone spent months embroidering it, it’s probably way out of our budget. But I would like to see. I would like to perceive.”

“Right. But,” said Monoma, jabbing a finger in your direction, “what if you requested it as part of your payment? For getting rid of the smokescreen?”

“Oh, Monoma, that’s—” You wet your bottom lip. “—that’s a little evil.”

His grin turned extremely smug, and he hummed. “I know. Isn’t that why you keep me around? Besides my love and blissful companionship?” Pushing himself up from his slouch, he pulled this strange move in which he nuzzled your shoulder like a dog, but he wasn’t acting like it was weird, so he must have done it before.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, patting him roughly on the head, “I’ll think about it, but that assumes that I’ll be able to fix whatever’s going on in the spirit realm.”

Monoma finally stood upright, stretching and cricking his back. “Of course you will. What are you talking about?” Grunting, he rolled his shoulders backwards and then forwards. “You always solve it somehow, even if you’re panicking the whole way. I have complete faith in you. Everyone does. May we go look at that wand display in the corner?”

“Is your wand broken?”

“No, I just like to look,” Monoma said, and he tugged on your arm, beaming as he guided you away from the plants and back to a revolving display of sorcery-and-above level wands, all secured by chains so that they wouldn’t escape. He honed in on one he liked right away, coaxing it out of its attempt to burrow out of the shop’s walls. “Have you managed to find everything you need for tonight? I can charm someone if these people are hiding things from you.”

“Thanks, but they had the main ingredients I needed, already dried and bottled. So, yes, it’s the most expensive Red Lace and Cottoncrown I’ve ever bought, but I don’t have to prep it myself.”

“Red Lace?” Monoma cocked his head, his index finger scratching the head of the sourwood wand as he would a cat, “Isn’t that for the tea ceremony? Don’t you need some Gold Comb?”

“Oh, you’re right,” you said, names of herbs straightening themselves out in your head now that someone’s talked about them with you, “I usually have to ask about that one, though.”

Monoma gave the wand a firm pat. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, I’ve got it. Stay with your new friend,” you said, nodding towards the sourwood wand and then the magnolia and sycamore wands that were edging closer to Monoma’s palm, “You’ll know if I need you.”

“Don’t you always?” he called, smug voice carrying across the shop while you waved him off.

You had to wait in line, since the shopworker had to explain in embarrassingly excruciating detail to the magician in front of you that magician-level magic did not and could not use any of the heart-shaped quartz he was trying to purchase. When you plopped your bottles of pre-made potion bases and ground herbs on the counter, your arms cried out in relief.

Blowing her blunt, blue-black bangs out of her face, the shopworker wrote down the serial number for your first ingredient without thinking, but she paused when she read the label for your second. Staring you down, she moved to write down its number, more slowly this time, but when she read what your third bottle was, she clonked it on the counter. “I think I have to arrest you,” she said, more pissed that this was going against routine rather than at whatever law you’d just broken, “You can’t buy all these together. You’re going to create a poisonous miasma, and if you add this—” She picked up another of your bottles. “—then it has a chance of developing consciousness. If you use this as the base—” Another. “—then it’ll cause hallucinations and nausea to those who only even get a whiff of it. What are you up to? You planning a terrorist attack during the festival?”

“What? Of course not. I didn’t know these could do that,” you said, hands raised in defence, “I’m—I’m not even aiming to make a miasma. I won’t be burning anything at all. I’m making—liquid. This is staying in liquid form.”

“Is that so?” The shopworker’s shoulders slackened, and she glanced over your ingredients again. “I usually don’t see these go into liquids. If you’re telling the truth, I think we legally have to watch you make your potion so that we can ensure you’re not crafting a miasma. Give me a moment to call my supervisor.”

“No, no, wait. I don’t—I have permission,” you said, hating that you were pulling this card but desperate to get out of this interaction, “Mayor Fuwa summoned me for a safety procedure involving this potion. I have the letter from her requesting I do this job, but we can go find her, if you’d like—”

“Hold on, are you the Dango?” Her eyes lit up. “The Dango Lady who’s going to remove the purple smokescreen from Alderside?”

You needed to leave before anyone else heard. “Yes. I was trying to work undercover.”

“I’m certain I can speak for everybody in this town when I say that we’re so, so relieved that you’re here,” she was saying, body language relaxed and familiar (so that her large, imposing presence became non-threatening in an instant), conjuring a quill to compose a note to her supervisor while she bagged your ingredients, “No one’s been able to leave their houses at night for the past two months, and it’s been miserable trying to communicate with anyone past this new curfew; I haven’t talked to my girlfriend in a week, and if there’s an emergency while the smokescreen is up, no one can do anything about it. We’ve had to allow people to suffer while we waited for the smokescreen to dissipate. I swear on all the ratsbane on the mountain that if that Jackrabbit scoundrel ever returns to Alderside, I’m going to curse his bloodline on sight. And then I’ll take him by his ears and plunge tiny bits of soapstone glyphs into them so that they damage his ear canals—”

You snapped out of your examination of her neck, which appeared to have a scar from beheading. “I’m sorry,” you said, swallowing thickly and rubbing your fingers over your own neck, “A jackrabbit?”

“No,” she said, miming spitting off to the side, “The Jackrabbit. The soulwalker we’ve hired in the past.” She shoved your last bottle into a paper sack, clinking against the others. “You’d better not betray us like he did.”

There’s…another soulwalker?

“I’ll do my best not to,” you said, glaring over your shoulder to beg Monoma for help, but he was being lovingly swarmed by wands, snuggling against him like a herd of cats. “I was unaware another soulwalker had come through Alderside. Was he unable to get rid of the smokescreen?”

The shopworker floundered, her jaw dropping in incredulity. “Get rid of—he caused it. He was hired to consult a recently deceased judge for help on a murder trial, but he did something in the spirit realm to attach a dark presence to Alderside that causes this smokescreen.”

The shop owner came over before she could explain anything else, and the owner was equally thrilled to have a new soulwalker in town. They looked over the letter for Fuwa’s magical signature on it, and they did insist you make the potion in front of them to prove your project would stay liquidous. Monoma had disentangled himself from his wand fan club by then and helped you measure herbs, including the Gold Comb kept behind the counter.

“Right, so it can settle for now. I’ll have to bring it to a boil at the ritual site and stir counter-clockwise for eight minutes before giving it a clockwise stir, and it’ll have to cool before I use it, obviously.”

The shopworker traced the scar on her neck. “What does it do? Does it take you to the spirit realm? Does it stabilise it?”

“Neither,” you said as Monoma handed over the payment, “but it helps me get started.”

The shopping had exhausted you, so you headed back towards the inn, allowing for a detour to pick up dinner from a restaurant Monoma had been bugging you about all day, to rest until the soulwalking ritual that night.

Before long, you headed out to the ritual site. A spot staked out before you’d even entered Alderside, the limestone overhang boxed in a tiny clearing, able to be guarded by your friends while you were out of your body. The process wouldn’t take as long as it normally did due to your pre-mixing the potion at the shop, so all that had to be done was kindling a fire and laying your bedroll.

As the potion heated over the fire in Monoma’s kettle, memories of its effects came back to you. You could soulwalk without any supplements, but this recipe you’d crafted helped you start and stop the process more easily. When soulwalking, your soul had to slip out of your body as close to a sleep state as possible without actually sleeping, because relaxed muscles were easier for your soul to slip out of. The current edition for this recipe was leagues more effective than Shinsou’s sirenic magic had been when you first started out: it helped you grow drowsy, but the Gold Comb kept you just aware enough to notice when you were about to fall asleep—and therefore most easily able to leave your body. Another recently added ingredient, Cottoncrown, was an herb that promoted lucid dreaming, so it helped you have more control in the first few minutes orienting yourself as an unbound soul. Everything else was designed to keep you unconscious while you were conducting business in the spirit realm.

Unfortunately, as your potion began to boil, you realised why people have been calling you the Dango: if you take your true form when soulwalking, then your soul can get trapped in the spirit realm. If a soul matches a nearby body, then the realm registers your soul as dead and tries to shuttle it to the afterlife. Therefore, all soulwalkers had to have a transformation unlike their natural appearances, and you…

After the half hour of Shinsou softly telling you a story while Touya played his mouthharp, your soul crawled out of your body with the tiny, cat paws of your real-life cat. How on earth did this version of you become Dango when she’s never seen her? You tried to examine your toe beans, but you found that you didn’t have good control over your elbows; you had to lie on the ground to study them.

You were your cat. A chocolate-point fluffball, prone to bouts of extreme violence.

No one’s making you stay in the spirit realm. You don’t even look human.

The spirit realm mirrored the flesh: you were still lying on your bedroll in camp—both physical you and cat you. With a touch of alarm, you noticed you were lying on your own chest, so you gambolled off.  Shinsou, Monoma, and Touya had vanished, because they were bound by flesh to the world of the living. The shadow of your body was here as your portal out.

The spirit realm always smelled pleasant, if not in a subtle, hazy way, as if you weren’t supposed to notice it. Around Alderside, it smelled of freshly mown grass, which was an oddity in itself; no vegetation grew in the spirit realm. Painted in shades of greys, the realm betrayed its anomalies in stark colours.

So, looking for any flash of colour, you jumped onto limestone rock, out of the clearing, and towards Alderside. Not a long walk, but it took longer on your little legs, and wow, you were getting so much grit between your toe beans, and would you really have to lick to clean them?

Cold in the overcast weather, you stalked towards the town entrance, grumbling about tangles in your fur, when your ears twitched, detecting the sound of running water. Slinking into town, you followed a babbling brook along the same, mosaiced streets designed to look like a river, its stained glass dull, grey, and glossy underneath the current.

The fog became dense purple around midtown, near the raised spring-stick. Clearly unnatural, since it’s got a colour. You trotted along the brook’s bed, keeping an eye near the roofline, where the smoke clung the thickest, and you darted behind a crate at the sight of another soul in the middle of the square.

It’s human, current rushing around his thin ankles. Barefoot, but wrapped in bandages. So were his arms, but his compact body was obscured by an oversized, scarlet jacket, with a wide collar buttoned over his mouth. He ignored how the smoke emanated from him.

A human soul. You hadn’t expected to meet someone here. To the best of your knowledge, you tended not to. You leapt atop a stack of crates and spoke to him (never mind that your vocal cords were not physically able to speak; it’s magic. Don’t think about it too hard). “Hello.”

He didn’t look away from the water.

“Hi! Over here. By the storefront.”

Shifting his weight, he blinked, shifting his gaze from the brook to the overcast, night sky.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, frowning, “I’m here to help you. Are you lost? Stuck? Do you need to go on to the afterlife?”

He took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and then exhaled.

“Okay,” you said, jumping down from the crates and skulking towards him. Maybe this guy couldn’t hear you, so the next step would be to go rub against him like a friendly cat to get his attention, and then, perhaps, pantomiming ways of helping him. It pained you to wade through the brook, water almost wetting the fur on your stomach, but you head-bumped his leg when you reached him, making a point to purr loudly.

He finally looked down and picked you up. Tensing, you mrowped in distress before he secured you to hold you like a baby, your stomach exposed and facing upwards so that he could look at you.

“What do you want?” he asked, quiet, reserved. He’d already turned back to the sky, despite five of your six ends’ sharpness.

You sighed the best a tiny cat could sigh. “The smoke is coming from you, correct? Is it your—” Out of habit, you’d almost asked if it were his quirk.

“Yes,” he said, too quickly for you to think of another term.

 “I represent this town. What would it take for you to stop using your smokescreen?”

For some reason, at your question, the man snapped his gaze to you, visibly taken aback despite his mouth’s concealment. He must not have seen anything further in your expression, because he continued, albeit cautiously. “I cannot accept a bribe, for I cannot control the smokescreen here. It leaks out of me against my will.” He shifted you to one arm so that he could hold up a hand, purple smoke seeping from his pores. “It is behaving most unusually. Not like itself at all.”

“It’s harming the town.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then please leave?”

“I’ve been stationed here by my master,” said the soul, covering his leaking hand with his sleeve, “I cannot leave this place.”

A soul with a master? This other soulwalker must also be a necromancer. “All right. I can help you break from his service.”

“No,” he said, wading through the water towards the spring-stick, “I serve him willingly. I’m honoured to aid him when I can.” He neared the barrels and crates, still unpacked, near the spring-stick site, and he lowered his arms to let you crawl onto them.

You nestled into the sacks of dried petals, settling into a catloaf. “Can I help you fulfil your task, then?”

His narrow eyes flickered towards you as he leant against a barrel and crossed his arms, the thick fabric of his coat puckering. “Nothing you can do. I’m to stay in Alderside until the next new moon, and then I will move on.”

You shifted, pulling your little legs farther underneath you. “Listen, I’m not actually a cat. I am more than capable of helping you. I have magic, you know.”

“I’m aware,” he said again, “You must be the other soulwalker my master is avoiding.”

“Avoiding? Say more about that,” you said, growing more distressed by the minute at the unequal levels of information between the two of you.

“No.”

“Fine,” you said, trying to spit but failing, “Will you tell me why you’re stationed here?”

He tugged his collar farther over his mouth and nose. “No.”

“Forget it, then.” You unsheathed your claws to tap them on the crate, your dewclaw sticking in the wood. “Let’s re-route back to your smokescreen. Is there a way to stop its leaking?”

He held up his hand again, flexing it. “I’m not certain.”

Unhelpful. “If you can’t stop the leak, can you control where the smoke flows?”

He paused to think, and he shook his head.

***

“My back is starting to hurt,” said Aizawa, slumping in his kitchen chair, “Do you mind if we move this conversation to my room so that I can lie down?”

“Not at all,” you said, standing and taking both of your coffee mugs to the sink, “I apologise for taking so long to get to the point, but there’s so much context, I think, that’s necessary to understand it.”

“I don’t mind,” said Aizawa, stretching, back popping in two places, shirt riding up as he did so. He rolled his shoulder backwards and started towards his bedroom. “How did you manage the smokescreen?”

“Well,” you said with a grunt, bending to scoop up Konpeito and rushing to follow Aizawa, “You know what a bag of holding is? It’s a bag that can hold an infinite amount of anything, but it only takes up the space and weight of the bag itself.” Once in his bedroom, you released Konpeito onto her worn cat tower, tag jingling, and she retreated to the topmost tier to gaze down at you in disdain. “I went back to the magic shop and got the staff involved to cast the spell to make bags of holding on an airtight jar, and I took it back to the spirit realm. We couldn’t stop his leaking smokescreen, but it stopped harming Alderside if it all funnelled into the jar.”

Aizawa shot you an incredulous smirk before collapsing on his bed, bouncing his sleeping bag off of it and covering his eyes with his arm. “You’re insane.”

“I like to think so,” you said, kneeling on the other side of the bed before fully sitting on it. “Alderside’s problem was fixed, even though that guy wasn’t leaving. We stuck around for the spring festival—fantastic, beautiful, perfect—fruit preserves on everything. I think Monoma ate his weight in baked brie with pear preserves on top. Dancing. Games. Tag where you hit people with fake leeks. Flowers conjured by magic everywhere. I got one of those fortune-telling seeds.” You scooted backwards towards the headboard and accepted the throw blanket Aizawa offered.

“I’m not falling asleep, by the way,” he said, peeking out from underneath his arm, “Just resting my eyes. Dry eye, you know.” He nestled his nose back into the crook of his elbow and rested his other hand on his chest. “And your fortune?”

“My knowledge of flowers is not expansive,” you said, kicking underneath the throw blanket to cover your lower body, “We couldn’t discern what our flowers were from the guides, so we had to ask around. I got a lotus. It’s silly, but Alderside’s flower symbolism doesn’t match up with reality’s, which is for enlightenment, self-regeneration, and rebirth; I looked it up later. For Alderside, a lotus means indifference and grief. Which is rude of it.”

“It’s just a fortune. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know. There seemed to be more negative fortunes than positive in those seeds; Shinsou got the worst of it; his flower has negative connotations in both worlds. Snowdrops mean consolation and hope here and vigilance and loneliness there. But nothing matters,” you said with a curt laugh.

Aizawa ran his tongue over his lower lip. “How was it being a cat?”

“Surprisingly okay. It was interesting to compare how unlimber I am in my own body. I also think it’s unfair humans don’t have a comfortable way of lying on their stomachs and looking around at the same time.” You smiled down at Aizawa, though he couldn’t see it. “It’s just like you to hone in on the cat stuff.”

“Isn’t it about time you brought Dango over to play with Konpeito again?”

“I’ll bring her next time I need to consult you about a crisis.”

Aizawa sat up to reach for his prosthetic leg. “Speaking of. When does this story become a crisis?” He detached the prosthetic with a quiet hiss from the pressure release, and he propped it against his bedside table.

“It already has. I actually did know that guy in the spirit realm.” You scratched the back of your neck, averting your gaze as he turned back towards you. “After Alderside, we kept getting summons to help out towns with similar problems, all stemming from souls being stationed there by the Jackrabbit. I, uh. Didn’t realise until Shimura Nana that they were all vestiges.”

Aizawa groaned your name in frustrated disappointment. “You didn’t. You didn’t.” He lay back down, hair splaying across his pillow while staring at you with a constipated expression. “I see we’ve arrived at this morning. I had to stop class so that my students could get it out of their systems.”

“Sorry about that. What I wouldn’t give for everyone not to have that information. I’d only just learnt it myself,” you said, grumbling and tucking yourself under the blanket as you, too, lay down, teeming with bitterness, “But no. Not quite this morning yet. We’re getting there. Like I said, it took me until Shimura Nana to figure it out, and it didn’t even matter that I was able to piece it together. He was still there when I arrived.”

***

Fury radiating from every pore, you stormed away from Shimura Nana on little cat feet, racing towards the cove she’d said her master’s body was, and on the shore outside of the coastal village, he sat next to All Might’s wispy vestige, trouser legs rolled up to dip his feet in the greyscale water, heels digging into the sand—very human-looking heels. How come he still looked like his human self?

You bounded down the beach, sand sticking between your toe beans and in your fur, and you pounced onto his back, sinking your claws into his stupid cape.

“How dare you,” you said, your cat weight making him hunch forward as he scrambled to catch you, “You’re causing a mess of trouble for me, you rat. I’ve been summoned across the country to fix your mistakes; how come all of your vestiges have something wrong with their—” It’d only been a split second in which you’d almost said quirks. “—magic. I’m going to rip you to tiny, edible shreds,” you said, fuming, claws catching onto his rabbit-earred hood as he dragged you over his shoulder.

You yanked at his hood, desperate to see that stupid, freckled face so that you could scratch it, but it wouldn’t budge. Violence tapering off, you sheathed your claws once it hit you that he was disguising his soul by making his mask part of his body.

Midoriya blinked slowly, eyes large and uncanny underneath the mask. Monstrous. Teeth look sharper, too. His silence unnerved you; you’ve never known him to shut up. But that was All Might next to him, swaying and diffusing in the nightly sea breeze, so this was Midoriya. Jackrabbit. You should’ve realised it sooner.

“You’re the other soulwalker,” he finally said, loosing his grip on your scruff as you calmed down, letting your weight rest in his lap.

“Are there only two of us? I know it’s a rare discipline, but only two makes us look like an endangered species.”

“If there are others, I don’t know of them.” He petted the back of your neck, as if reminding you he could still strangle you to death.

Of course the only other soulwalker, the only rival in an extremely rare, difficult magical discipline, the one whose chaos you’ve had to ameliorate, would be the number-one hero. You didn’t stand a chance in surpassing him. At the same time, it made you feel the tiniest bit special that hey, the number-one hero is the only one to rival you here, wow. Especially since your magic—unfairly—doesn’t resemble your quirk at all. Turns out with his vestiges, the soulwalking must be somewhat familiar to him. You’ve had to wing it from scratch, and he’s—well.

“I want to talk to you when I’m not a cat,” you said, nodding towards him and at All Might out of politeness, “My party is nearby with my body. Want to have dinner with us tonight? I’ll ensure your safety.”

The ears on Midoriya’s hood twitched. “You’re so sure you can trust me. I could destroy you right now, and I would be the only soulwalker in the realm.”

“I don’t care. I trust you,” you said, because people here tended to mirror their selves from reality, and Midoriya was just a little baby boy. Just a little guy. He’d even be a great addition to your party, especially for strategizing, and you wouldn’t have to follow his trail of disaster anymore. “Look, do you want me to come get you in my real body first? I’ll be unarmed. Or we could meet up in town, if you’re worried about meeting in private.”

Midoriya glanced towards All Might. “All right,” he said slowly, “Dinner. There was a beachside restaurant, wasn’t there?”

“We can meet you there. There’s four of us,” you said, answering his question before he asked it. He closed his mouth. “We’ll buy, if that’s any incentive. We’ve gotten paid pretty well for fixing the problems you’ve left behind.”

He nodded again, eerie in his stiffness, and he stood, keeping you out of the water. “How will I recognise you?”

You laughed through your nose as he gingerly set you down on dry sand. “I’ll be the devastatingly beautiful one with something deeply wrong with her.”

When you led your party into Suoh’s Seaside Café, you meandered through a packed front of house celebrating a birthday, and out to its deck, where Midoriya sat alone, scribbling into a notebook at the umbrella-covered table closest to the ocean.

It’s strange, seeing him out of his hero costume, labelled t-shirts, or hero merch, and it’s odder still seeing him out of anything green. Everyone else appeared to share their real counterpart’s preferences for clothing, so it was weird that Midoriya instead was keeping it monochrome with some pirate-ass, billowing long-sleeve, the tightest black trousers you’ve seen this side of consciousness, a double-breasted vest from a vampire’s wet dream, and—okay, never mind—now that you’ve gotten a good look at it, his cloak’s not fully black; the inside was dyed deep green. Made it feel more like Midoriya.

But it occurred to you, as Touya elbowed you to approach, that you haven’t really seen Midoriya in a while, in real life. He might dress like this now. You wouldn’t know. Midoriya tended to run around with the Iida-Todoroki-Uraraka-Asui-Tokoyami crowd, always scraping his nose to the grindstone, always in high demand, never having much free time. Everything you knew about Midoriya was filtered through headlines or through Uraraka in the breakroom at work, like how he’d gotten her flowers yesterday or how he forgot to get dish soap last time he was out.

You haven’t properly hung out with Midoriya in about three years, and even then, it’d only been because you’d been the only two U.A. graduates at a fundraising event. Latching onto each other for the night had seemed safer than going through the hordes of strangers alone. And that night had been the first time you’d spent time with him since graduation, and before that, he had—all that other stuff to deal with.

When you tapped on the table to get his attention, the way he dropped everything to beam up at you made you want to pursue his friendship again.

“Hello!” Midoriya shut his handbound notebook, and you swore his boyish smile took up over half his face; it’s almost too blinding to look at. “I assume you’re the cat I met?”

“Meow,” you said with a flash of your eyebrows, pulling out the chair next to him, chair legs screeching on the wooden deck.

“It’s good to meet you officially. I’ve heard a lot about you, as a soulwalker. I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he said, reaching out to shake your hand.

After ordering and introductions, the notebook was opened to a clean page when Monoma started talking about his copy-illusions, and Midoriya began asking questions. You slurped at your iced tea, feeling more comfortable now that this Midoriya was acting like the Midoriya you knew—asking about magic/quirks felt much, much more familiar than the uncannily stiff, stoic man you met in the spirit realm. He got to rambling underneath Touya’s reluctant explanation of his freezing fire and Shinsou’s necromancy and sirenic call, but when he got to you, it tapered off.

He'd bent over to write more quickly, nose practically touching the paper. “And you soulwalk, same as me—we should talk about it later; I don’t want to bore everyone else at the table—is there any other magic you can do?”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to make out what he was scrawling diagonally, “I have this boundary-binding tea ceremony.”

Midoriya’s hand halted for the first time in ten minutes. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Yeah,” you said, lifting a scallop from your soup (Shinsou, at least, could share in your raving about how fabulous the soup was, but Monoma ate his popcorn shrimp with pride while Touya’d ordered chicken at a seafood place), “It’s a bit of an obscure technique, like soulwalking. I’d classify it as a type of conjuring, if you want a broad category.”

Midoriya scratched out the previous two sentences and began to copy what you’d said. “Fascinating. I’d love to hear more about it.”

His awkward, abrupt pause had been the only social hiccup all evening. Otherwise, he’d been lovely—eager to share information and to listen, apologetic for the trouble he’d caused, boyishly charming to the point where even Touya got a little flustered, easy to laugh and to make others laugh. You could see why he’s the number-one hero back home. It’s easy to feel like you’ve known him forever, like he belongs at your side.

When Touya wanted to test how Granddaddy Slapkins felt about Midoriya, you knew what was coming. The instant Granddaddy Slapkins settled into Midoriya’s lap, quacking softly as he fed him a stir-fried snow pea, Monoma propped his chin on steepled fingers, shooting looks that were not subtle around the table before opening his mouth.

“Midoriya, you seem a decent fellow. Would you like to join our party?”

Taken aback (or perhaps just startled at the nip Granddaddy Slapkins gave him), Midoriya considered. “Are you sure?” Midoriya clutched the duck to his chest, petting gently, and looked at you. “You wouldn’t have to follow me to fix my problems,” he said, tilting his head very slightly, brow pinched in thought, “I wouldn’t have to—you could help me, most likely. In what I’m searching for. It might be better to have more than one person investigate it.”

Grinning, Shinsou crossed his arms on the table to lean on them, hand gripping his opposite elbow. “Tell us more.”

“I—” Shaking himself out of it, he broke from you to look at Shinsou. “Yes, actually. I’m on a mission myself, and since your missi—quest to solve what problems I’ve caused is coming to an end, I might be able to offer a new one,” said Midoriya, stowing his notebook away at last and pulling a threadbare, velvet box out of his satchel. He popped it open like a ring box, and on its cushion sat a clear, perfectly spherical crystal with the barest suggestion of topaz yellow glinting off it.

“Do you want us to fence it?” Touya was asking as he lifted Granddaddy Slapkins out of Midoriya’s lap and circling back to his seat on the bench, “We passed through a gem market when before we entered the Gauntlet—”

Monoma cut him off. “The only way we are going back through that abominable place is if we can conjure a carpet to fly over it.”

“I’m not trying to sell it,” said Midoriya, shutting the box again, “I’m trying to restore it. It’s a soul crystal, one that belonged to my master, Yagi Toshinori.” All Might’s real name. Tracks, with Midoriya. “My master’s body has gotten frail in his old age,” said Midoriya, worriedly rotating the box from hand to hand, “After sustaining a stomach injury, he used up all of his magic in preserving his physical form, which has gone into hibernation. His magic is gone, but it’s not yet his time to die. I’m trying to take his soul crystal to the soul altar to restore his magic. He’ll be able to resume living in his body if I can do that.”

“All right,” said Shinsou, nodded while he took an enormous slurp of his coffee, “Where’s this soul altar? We can help you get to it.”

Midoriya laughed nervously, scratching his cheek. “I don’t know exactly. I’ve been given the parameters. It’s why you’ve been following my vestiges, actually,” he said, nodding towards you again, “Entrances to the soul altar move around in the spirit realm. It has consistent places it spawns, but I don’t have enough vestiges to watch every spawning point. What I was doing was stationing them at the most common ones, but they don’t—something’s been going wrong with all of their magic; none of them have been working right. I—”

“So, are you saying we’d be travelling around for these entrance points?” Touya asked thickly, mouth full of fried chicken. “What about just going to where the altar actually is?” At Midoriya’s perplexed stare, he swallowed and continued. “If its entrances keep changing locations, then they’re probably not actually in those places, taking up space. It means that there’s a solid location for the altar, and the entrances are the only things that jump around. How stupid are you to forget that loose magic, the stuff that’s not bound to anyone or anything, doesn’t last very long? You’re saying that these entrances have been bouncing around for a while, so they’ve got to be bound to something. So. There’s probably a physical place where the soul altar is bound.”

You stifled your smile at Midoriya’s silence by tilting your bowl to get at the last of your soup.

“To—ya,” said Midoriya slowly, eyes glazed over, “You may be onto something.” Mechanically, he returned the box to his satchel, and he bowed his head. “Please let me join your party.”

And that was that. Midoriya left the restaurant with all of you, spitballing theories about the soul altar, all the way up until it was time to set up camp again that night, and after that, he lay on his bedroll next to yours, laughing until while you told him about soulwalking as a cat with his vestiges, until the both of you fell asleep.

***

“Aizawa-sensei?” You prodded the arm covering his eyes. “Are you awake?”

“You’ve got to stop calling me that,” said Aizawa, shifting underneath the covers with a groan, “Someone your age calling me sensei makes me feel like I’m on a rollercoaster into my own grave.”

“Aren’t we all,” you said, sitting up, the blanket pooling around your waist, “Were you even listening?”

“Midoriya joined your party, and he’s been travelling with you for a few weeks now,” he said, finally lifting his arm from his face to sweep hair off of it, “Just stop calling me sensei. I haven’t taught you for almost a decade now.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” you said, rolling your eyes, “What do you want me to call you? It’s not going to feel natural, whatever it is.”

Aizawa ran his fingers through his hair and scowled at a tangle. “Shouta is fine. We’ve been friends for a while now, wouldn’t you say?”

“I guess,” you said, “but it’s not easy to make the mental shift from thinking of someone as distinctly an adult to a peer. I’ll try. But back to you, teaching. We’re up to this morning. We are up to what your students wouldn’t shut up about.”

He pulled at the knot in his hair, wincing. “Should I be taking notes?”

***

Six hours ago, you’d gone to brunch with friends, most of whom you hadn’t seen in a long while because of work. Yes, you saw most of the women because of the all-female hero agency that you’d founded, but seeing everyone together was like stepping back into the past, the way people relaxed into familiar patterns of interacting with each other, even though it’d been months or years since you’d spoken to each other.

It usually took a couple of weeks out to reserve a table at this brunch restaurant, but they’d been more than enthusiastic about renting their whole place out to, essentially, the former Class A. Kind of guilty seeing all the vacant tables, but comforting to know no one was eavesdropping on you.

You sidled up on the end seat next to Shinsou and Monoma at the tables they’ve pushed together for your group. You scanned the menu once you’d set your purse down; in your dream world, your party had had breakfast for dinner last night and left you craving it for real (Shinsou was already sipping at the largest frappe on the menu, and your heart ached for dream Shinsou, who’d never have one [last night’s dream Shinsou had stubbornly held back tears drinking black coffee after Midoriya and Monoma used the last of the sugar for their strawberry toast]).

“Where is Uraraka?” Monoma scrolled through his phone, pouting. “Shouldn’t the one who organised the event be here on time? I have some design proposals for the formalwear collab we’re doing to promote her miniseries. I simply have no patience for all of those bubble dresses she keeps sending me.”

“She’ll be here,” you said once the waitress took your order and menu, “I wouldn’t worry about—”

“They don’t have a classic silhouette, so they’re not a lasting style—”

A bell chimed when the restaurant’s door swung open, with Uraraka waving to everyone, the tips of her fingers lightly pink. “Hey, guys! So sorry we’re late,” she said, weaving between tables towards ones pushed together, “We got caught up at Sakura Grove and then that home improvement store again; they just have so many interesting lamps.” She sat in the seat across from Shinsou, and—oh, you didn’t even see him trailing behind her—Midoriya sat in the last available seat, across from you. Uraraka slung her purse off her shoulder, rooting through it for her phone before draping its strap over the back of the bench. “What have I missed?”

Mina reiterated her cute anecdote about being paired with Kirishima for an undercover mission, not even because they were soulmates but because the situation called for their specific quirks. Tokoyami and Jiro shared that they wanted to release an acoustic album together, and if Bakugou would play percussion in it, hey, then no one would have to suffer through Aoyama’s maracas. By the way, Sero, did you know that Present Mic was asking after…

You stayed quiet. With your mind running a mile a minute both asleep and awake, you felt like you spent a lot of time talking nowadays. Instead, you considered Midoriya, who, bags under his eyes, remaining quite silent himself, kept his mug of oolong tea, double-sweet, to his lips, answering and laughing when prompted by Uraraka and not much otherwise. He’s sitting on the edge of a shared bench, right on the edge so that his ass doesn’t entirely fit—but he seems like he’s consciously trying to downplay his large presence right now, not taking up a lot of space, despite having the broad shoulders and muscled thighs expected of a number-one hero. Midoriya’s wearing a t-shirt labelled Nice Button-Down, the fabric that sort of transparent-thin that comes from being well-worn, thrown on hastily enough that the sleeves were still twisted and straining around his biceps, stretching the fabric even thinner (you could make out some of his darker freckles on his shoulders from across the table) and jeans that were crumpled enough to have come out of the dirty clothes hamper, his hair wildly dishevelled so that most of it still obscured his eyes—you’d think they’d just overslept and lied about it. But Uraraka’s even got those little rhinestones glued to the corners of her eyes, so maybe Midoriya was content with wandering around looking like—well. The number-one hero must be exhausted all of the time, you supposed. Your eyes fell to the veins on the back of the hand encircling his mug, and after a few moments of staring, they pulsed visibly. At least he’s drinking enough liquids.

If the real Midoriya had become this quiet, then perhaps the dream Midoriya’s behaviour in the spirit realm wasn’t so out of character. And if he’s anything like himself in your dreams, then you wanted to rekindle your friendship.

While Shinsou and Uraraka were critiquing Monoma’s design for a dress inspired by the elves leaving Middle Earth in The Fellowship of the Ring, you waved your fingers at Midoriya. “Hi.”

Midoriya blinked slowly, as if it took him a moment to realise you were talking to him, and he set his tea down on the lace tablecloth. “Hi,” he said back, with a rasp to his voice, “I don’t think we’ve seen each other in a while. When was the last time we…?”

“Around three years ago,” you said, taking a bite of your waffle, “That idiotic fundraising event full of old people who wanted to feel your biceps.”

“Has it been that long?” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, and something about this felt wrong felt off felt like that action, inflection, and dialogue was planned and fake and—

You ignored it. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m—” He wavered his free hand from side to side. “—busy.” Midoriya smiled again, cupping both of his hands around his mug, fingers overlapping and making the mug look much smaller than it was. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss what I’m currently doing, because I’ve signed an NDA, but non-mission-wise, I’ve been up to my nose with this advertising deal for protein shakes, and I’ve been working with Hatsume about redesigning my boots now that my kicks are reaching around 1200 psi on average, and—” He broke his gaze from his tea, glancing around the table as if he just remembered it. ���—and Uraraka and I are working on pre-production for her miniseries, and—oh, thank you so much,” he said to the waiter who set his strawberry French toast in front of him.

Midoriya turned back to you. He blinked blearily.

You stared back at him. “No one’s asked you how you are in a while, haven’t they?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Midoriya, unravelling his silverware from his napkin, which he spread across his lap, “Uraraka knows everything going on with me, and I’m not often allowed the free time to speak with people who’ve—friends, I mean.”

“Well,” you said, cutting into your waffle while he did the same with his toast, “I’ve actually been thinking about you lately, and it’s a shame we don’t hang out very much. I was actually thinking about that fundraising event and how good it was to be with you then, and—yeah. If you’re cool with it, I’d like to talk to you more.”

Midoriya faltered, fork lowering from his mouth as he gave you a toothy grin with something unreadable glinting in his eyes. “I’d—that’d be good. I’d like that, too,” he said, and he took his first bite of strawberry-stained French toast and let out what could technically be labelled as a moan. “Ffffuck, that’s good. That’s good. I haven’t had strawberry toast in forever. My nutritionist won’t—”

“I didn’t know forever was only a few hours. You just had some last night, moron,” you said thickly through your own waffle, shaking your head at how he’d deprived dream Shinsou of sugar for his coffee, and you stopped mid-chew.

Midoriya did, too.

The silence between the two of you lasted a lifetime, though your friends continued chattering on a single topic, chairs scraping and echoing around you.

You couldn’t taste your waffle when you swallowed it. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll show you where they are,” said Midoriya, standing in a rush, “I’ve been here before.”

Hastening away from the table, you pulled Midoriya into the hallway where the bathrooms were, but he shook his head and steered you the opposite direction. “The sound carries in here,” he said, pushing open the doorway to the restaurant’s covered porch.

He’s already pacing, muttering to himself, and frantically pulling at his hair when you collapsed into one of the flimsy deck chairs. Empty, like your insides have been scooped out, you watched him pace back and forth before he spun around to point at you. “Right. How long have you been going there?”

“Don’t be vague,” you said, a stone of dread splashing into your stomach, “We’re talking about that fantasy world when we fall asleep, right?It’s actually you I’ve been travelling with?”

“Yes,” Midoriya said, swallowing, Adam’s apple bobbing, “I haven’t found anyone else who travels from this reality to that one. My vestiges know, of course, because they come over with me. Actually, is anyone else in our party—”

“No. They’ve all lived there their whole lives. Dream Shinsou knows I come from this reality, though, and that I have overlapping memories of two lives.”

“This is it, then. It ends here,” said Midoriya, running his hands down his face, reminding you of Aizawa, and he slapped his cheeks. “I have to end my relationship with Uraraka.”

You jolted in your seat. “What’s wrong with—Deku,” you said, holding your hands up in concern, “What are you talking about? Just because we’ve been meeting in dreams doesn’t mean—”

“I’ve been expecting something like this.” Closing his eyes, Midoriya took a careful breath in, and his shoulders heaved as he exhaled. His eyes snapped open. “Uraraka and I aren’t soulmates. You and I are.”

Throat drying, you narrowed your eyes. “No, we’re not. I don’t have a soulmate, and I would know. Ito hasn’t said anything about my having a soulmate at work, and she’d know—”

“No, please—please let me explain.” Midoriya pulled out the chair opposite you, and he shifted it over to your side of the table. “Uraraka and I were never soulmates. We were wrong when we thought we were bound.” He took both of your hands in his, and, startled, you looked around the vacant deck for help. “Do you remember what our bond was? Sharing the same song in our heads. But we were stupid,” he was saying, shaking his head, “and we already had feelings for each other. So, when we seemed to share a song, we didn’t take into account that we have the same music taste and were always recommending music to each other, always blaring music whenever we were around each other, as if enforcing it—and when it was clear that we weren’t actually bound, we stayed together, anyway. We were in the public eye by then, and things were messy. And now—” Midoriya winced, sucking in through his teeth. “—she and I are extremely popular as a unit, as if people can’t think of one of us without the other, and we do work exceedingly well together, and—”

Midoriya cut himself off, head bowed so low that his bangs grazed your fingers and that you could see where his undercut began on the back of his neck. “I couldn’t mar Uraraka’s reputation. Women are always villainised in breakups, and she especially would be, since, by all accounts, it looks like she’s cheating on me.”

You opened your mouth, but your voice wouldn’t come out.

Midoriya raised his head, eyes watering. “She’s already found her real soulmate. Almost a year ago now. We’ve stayed together for public image, because I haven’t minded, and we’re both too tired to deal with the fallout. Now that you’re in the picture—”

You cleared your throat until you could speak. “Why would I matter? We haven’t exactly been friends. I don’t know you. You don’t know me.”

“I could,” said Midoriya, squeezing your hands tightly, “I could love you.” Holding eye contact must have been difficult while crying, but he did it, raising your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckle.

“What the fuck,” you said, ripping it away.

***

Grimacing, Aizawa laughed through his nose. “Wow,” he said, rubbing his good eye, “That’s unfortunate. It’d be hard to ignore at this point, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said with a jerk of your head to the side, “I left after that, but you saw the—did you see the video? It was some reporter whose quirk allows him to turn into a beetle, so he was sitting on the railing—wanted to overhear anything from heroes during brunch, and he ended up finding out horrible news at the same time we did.”

“I never saw the video, but my students described it to me in great detail.”

You clicked your tongue. “Fabulous. Then you heard how Deku brought Uraraka out to the same spot, so Beetle was able to get everything about how excited Uraraka was that they could break up. What’s ironic is that they were discussing a plan about how to end their relationship with delicacy so that the public wouldn’t villainise anyone, but now that this video is out, there’s no need for a plan or delicacy. I’ve turned my phone off ever since Uraraka texted me that she had to protect her soulmate, since she’s just a civilian who’s been doxed. I did some stress-wandering-about, and then I came to you.”

Aizawa pushed himself up, bending his knees to rest his arms on them. “You finally have a soulmate.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. “Thought you were one of us.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said, giving him a dismissive wave (but aware he was trying to make you feel better about it), “I should’ve considered everyone in our soulmate-less club before getting assigned. How careless of me.”

(Out of everyone in ground gamma when Tainted Love’s team invaded, only a handful of you weren’t assigned soulmates [Bakugou, Monoma, Todoroki, Aizawa, Shinsou, and you], so whenever there’d been a soulmate-based event, you’d instead hung out with some or all of the soulmate-less group, eager to grumble about your lot in life and engage in non-romantic conversation.

There’d been in-group jokes about how its members should all just get together. Looking back, you wished you had, so that you’d have more of an excuse to get out of this Midoriya stuff. But you couldn’t pin down which of your friends you’d go for, like something deep inside you wouldn’t let you—and you supposed that was the soulmate bond, at which you seethed.)

“So. We’ve caught up.” Aizawa covered his yawn. “How can I help? I’d break the bond if I could, since it upsets you, but I believe that’s beyond the scope of my quirk.”

“I knew that coming in,” you said, “I’d like your advice on how to have dreamless sleep. I don’t wanna face Deku right now; I can’t handle it.”

“Hm. It’ll be hard, considering you’ve been dreaming every night for half a year now.” Aizawa pinched his lower lip, brow furrowed. “You can’t run away from a soulmate bond.”

“Yes, but I would like to.”

Sighing like the weight of the world curled on his chest, Aizawa reached for the knob of his bedside table’s drawer. “Fine. Let me give you what I give Yamada when he’s fresh off of his radio show.”

***

When you lurched awake in your bedroll by a smouldering firepit, you scratched Aizawa’s advice off your list. Maybe it’d prolonged the time until you woke, because these thunderous river rapids should have woken you earlier, but you couldn’t count on it.

Joints aching, you pushed yourself upright. Funny, you hadn’t been in your bedroll but on it—probably due to the layer of filth coating you. Last dream had had your party in an unexpected scuffle with earth mages, and they’d pounded you into the ground. Camp had been set up near this waterfall so that you could wash yourselves when you woke up, because everyone was too exhausted to do anything after that fight other than sleep. Looks like Touya didn’t even both setting up his bedroll and slept directly on the riverbank.

Camp was vacant, save for you, but the eternal coal was still hot, buried under the ashes of the hastily dug firepit. Wasn’t there a village nearby? Could that be where—yes, the results of Monoma’s scouting included that the nearby village tended to not even talk to women who passed through, due to insane objectification, and everyone else had probably gone there to restock.

Well, you’re taking the good soap, and you’re going to bathe in the waterfall, because it’s the closest thing to a modern shower’s water pressure that you’re going to get. Unlacing your corset as you walked, you trailed along the river and climbed onto the jagged rocks by the waterfall, and through it took you a minute to find secure footing on the slippery stone, you made it onto the stone ledge that would let you slip behind the waterfall for some privacy.

Yanking your loosened corset over your head, you did the same for your shirt as you dropped your clean clothes to the ground, sighing loudly against the ambience of the deafening waterfall and its softer, coursing showers flowing through rock interstices. You’d plopped your shirt onto a dry section of rock, about to pull off your undershirt, when you spotted Midoriya across the inner plunge pool. Hidden behind a sheet of water and submerged almost to mid-chest, his bulky silhouette washed its hair, rinsing out soap and shaking the water out like a dog.

You lowered the hem of your undershirt.

Crouching to gather your clean clothes, you winced at your knees cracking but kept vigilant, eyes darting between the exit and his shadow, holding your breath despite—

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your blood turned cold. You spun back towards the pool, keeping your distance from the waves sloshing against the rim and your gaze towards your feet, listening in horror to the swishing of water as he swam towards you. “What do you want, Deku?”

“What do you mean by that? I want to talk to you.”

In your periphery, Midoriya swam to the edge of the pool, water lapping around his infuriatingly narrow waist, and he rested his forearms on the rock’s edge to lean towards you, collarbone poking out and shoulders hunching in the effort to stay above the surface. “If it’s all right with you,” he said, with the air of defusing a bomb, “I’d like to pursue a relationship with you, as my true soulmate.”

You hunkered back towards the only section of dry stone, clutching your knees to your chest. “Well, I don’t.”

Midoriya gave a breathy exhale, eyes softening but still pinning you to your spot against the rock wall. “I could be so good for you,” he said, shaking his head, “I know I could love you.”

You bit your lip. “Aren’t you in love with Uraraka?”

His hair dripped into his face at the same moment his expressed sharpened again, just barely. “I was.”

“I don’t want a relationship right now,” you said, gaze flicking towards the exit, “I’m content with how I am by myself.”

Midoriya hummed, narrowing his eyes, and he hitched up his elbow placement on the stone’s edge, his abs flinching when they grazed the side of the pool. “I don’t think that’s your reason. Tell me.”

(Who is this man? What happened in the past few years?

You kept a vivid memory of the fundraising event from three years ago close to your chest, guiltily hoarding it from sunlight, because you weren’t supposed to—

Midoriya and you had ducked out to the venue’s third-storey balcony, him in his stupid pinstriped suit and you in some silky dress that vaguely resembled a jellyfish, both sweaty from the packed crowd and bright lights inside. You’d made a joke at the punchbowl that’d made Midoriya splurt champagne out of his nose, so you’d slinked outside to avoid glares while you laughed—charity was serious business, and you were only figurehead heroes representing your agencies, anyway.

The two of you had hidden on the spiralling staircase outside while you finished your champagne and talked about your agencies. Both of you had been the sole members of your U.A. class to start an agency, and your processes had evidently been tremendously different. You’d found yourself disagreeing with your classmates, as you’d gazed up at Midoriya, sitting two steps higher than you were, champagne flute at his side, because his rambling—constant analysis, making strange jumps in logic with synthesis you didn’t expect, riddled with moments of admiration for those who’d gone before him—had made your heart sing.

You hadn’t understood most of what he was saying, and you could’ve listened to him forever.

Midoriya had unlocked a desperation to understand like nothing ever had, and he was interesting, full of wonder and curiosity, kind more than anything, a bit too generous, and, moreover, actually listening to you, instead of just waiting his turn to talk or interrupting.

And when you’d expressed worry about how to keep moving forward, he’d said the most beautiful words anyone’s ever said to you: “Let me help you.”

[After, you’d had to shove all these feelings down, because he’s dating your friend. You’ve allowed yourself to—think of him like that only in the context of that night. Otherwise, your attraction towards Midoriya can’t exist.])

“Shut up,” you said, curling in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees, “You’re clever. You can figure it out.”

Midoriya spoke with a touch too much enunciation, the tendons in the back of his hand flexing as he gripped his bar of soap, wrapped in his washcloth. “I want to be sure. Tell me.”

You couldn’t look at him. “You’ve recently ended a long-term relationship with one of my best friends. I can’t date you. That’s violating girl code.”

“Uraraka was eager for the breakup,” he said evenly, “She’s ecstatic that she can finally go on public outings with Spike, her real soulmate, even if it comes after a media fallout. Uraraka holds no power over me. All I am is yours.” A droplet dripped from his bangs onto his lower lip, and his tongue darted out to lick it off. “Come here. Sit next to me. Put your legs in the water.”

You baulked. “I’m sorry?”

“You came here to bathe. I can help, if you’d like.”

“Wha—I,” you said, fumbling, spluttering, “I don’t—huh?”

“It’s okay,” said Midoriya, holding his hand out to you, “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“No, I am not—”

“It’s okay. I’m aware you have feelings for me, so you don’t have to worry about—”

“Hold on—what, what on earth are you talking about?” Scrambling to get more than five feet away from him, you backed farther into the rock wall, jagged edges pressing into your back. “I don’t—do you seriously believe that I like you? That I’ll throw myself at you immediately once my friend’s out of the way? I can’t—I’m not gonna work like that. I don’t. I,” you said, jaw slack, “Why would you think that I’m automatically into you just because I’ve been told to be?”

“Hm,” he said lightly, somehow cockily, with a lift to his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t know.” The fucker pushed on his hands to heave his body out of the pool, water cascading down his stupidly defined chest and trim waist, and—you held up your hand to shield yourself from his dick, because you’re not giving him the satisfaction of seeming interested—but apparently, his cock’s not the focus, because he twisted himself around to sit on the edge of the water, legs dangling into it and broad back facing you, droplets trailing down between his shoulder blades and the swell of his ass.

You’re cursed with noticing things: his ass was even more aggravatingly round/firm than it was in the New Year’s shoot with Rumi even with the lower part smushed against stone, and it’s got freckles on it. Freckles only on the top part of his asscheeks, actually, as if he’s walked around naked in sunlight a good bit. Either way. You were frothing with abhorrence and frustration, brain needing to be scrubbed with a wire sponge. If you had known about this back in school, before soulmates were invoked, no one could’ve stopped you.

But since Uraraka’s been gushing about this man for almost a decade now, it made your stomach turn, quashing initial interest. You can’t just summon romantic impulses, with or without guilty feelings about wanting your friend’s boyfriend.

Steeling yourself, you said, “I don’t care that other people find you attractive. I’m not attracted to you.”

“Fascinating,” said Midoriya, and he tilted his head backwards to look at you, hair falling back from his face, “Showing my v-line usually worked on Uraraka.”

“I’m not Uraraka. You can’t expect me to fall for the same stuff as she—oh,” you said, and you slumped against the rock. “You really don’t know me. And I don’t know you.” You pressed your forehead against the wall, spreading wet grime on your skin. “I could—I could fall in love with any of my friends if the soulmate bond would let me, because I know them as individuals. Shinsou—Shinsou’s favourite character growing up was Sailor Mercury; he pets every cat he can and is horrible at making onigiri, but that doesn’t stop him from making it; he bikes and plays bass and can tie an excellent knot. Monoma’s the biggest theatre nerd I’ve ever met; he’s got an improv group that does performances at Nekozawa’s every month, and his love for Franco-Belgian comics and The Lord of the Rings is only surpassed by his obsession with gummy candy. Bakugou, that moron, plays the drums because his parents forced him into lessons, and he mountain climbs for fun; he goes to bed at 8:30 and can’t sleep with heavy blankets because he overheats in his sleep, and he’s the one who stole Kirishima’s crocs before prom and knows more about eyeliner than anyone else I know. You, though. Deku. Outside of hero work, outside of hero training, outside of what you’ve said about your heroic journey to the public, I know nothing about you. You let people know your thoughts about what you do, but you don’t let anyone know who you are. All we’ve got outside of hero work and hero admiration is that you like katsudon. I bet you don’t keep up with me, eith—”

“That’s enough.” Back towards you, Midoriya held up his hand, and after he cut you off, he used it to scratch his shoulder. Chest rising and falling, he leant back on his palms to gaze up at the waterfall surging downwards from the rockface.

His shoulders were shaking.

He’s laughing.

When Midoriya turned, he’d the same, hard glint in his eyes as when he’s in battle, when his body’s lit up in OFA lightning, sparking with every odd edge he touched, looking so, so alive. You haven’t thought he could look this way outside of a fight. Horribly entrancing, the way his eyes betray his anger while he’s still grinning to himself, shaking his head, and—and crawling the five feet towards you, dripping water, and you were pinned under his sharp glare, because otherwise—can you scoot back more? He’s so close that you might—

“I wouldn’t worry. We’ll know each other in time.” Trailing his last two fingers along your jawline, Midoriya turned your head to ensure you focused on him instead of the exit. He almost withdrew his wet-warm fingertips from the underside of your chin but thought better of it, instead lightly, barely, rubbing a water droplet into your lower lip. “Hm,” he said, running his tongue over his own, “My plans for you can wait. For now, I’ll do whatever it takes to win you over.”

Your heartrate had already spiked because of his shared body heat and that battle-ready look in his eyes, but the moment Midoriya leaned in, eyes half-lidded, your heart stopped.

(You can’t kiss him you can’t kiss him that’s your friend’s boyfriend you can’t you can’t—)

But his lips never touched yours—Midoriya diverted his lips at the last minute, and strangely, absurdly, dragged his mouth and face along your own, feeling his slight morning stubble scuff against you until he stopped by your ear, cheek pressed against yours (his fingers on your mouth dug into your lip, holding you still, despite your twitching to get away).

“Grant me permission. Please. I can be so, so good for you,” he said, hot breath striking your ear with each consonant, still pressed closely enough to feel his grin (its contrast with the fury in his voice made you lightheaded), “I can give you exactly what you need, and I give it so freely. So. Please. We may not know each other well, but I do know this: you alone own me. You alone hold me by the throat.” He nosed down the tense column of your neck, huffing through his nose when he pressed against your pulse point, and he fucking licked all the way up to your earlobe (the cold air swashing over his saliva). “If you’ll say the word,” he said, licking his bottom lip again, so close that you felt his tongue’s movement, “If you’ll let me, I’ll rip you apart. In any way you want.”

His little finger edged into your mouth and pressed down on the tip of a canine.

Shaken, you could only tug at his wrist to extract his hand, and once he’d let you remove it, you asked, “What the fuck kind of relationship did you have with Uraraka?”

Midoriya laughed again—but it’s a short, high-pitched burst, like the laughter you would’ve identified as his before. He shifted backwards to sit on his knees (don’t look at his lap; don’t look at his lap) and tilted his head with an easy smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Because I—this—” How is he the one with total confidence when he’s the one naked? “—this sort of—idea. The way you talk. This doesn’t—this doesn’t come from nowhere. I,” you said, covering your eyes with your hand, “Will you—will you allow me a moment to collect my thoughts?”

“Of course,” said Midoriya, and he—he backed away. Scooted back to the pool’s edge. Wrung out his washcloth. Gathered his things. Returned his legs to the water.

Didn’t put on any clothes.

“Okay,” you said after a minute, “I think I can—”

“Come sit by the water with me?”

“Uh,” you said, transfixed as the tendons in the back of his hands rippled as he flexed each of his fingers, “No. I’m fine where I am.”

He half-shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Right,” you said, swallowing with effort, “I, uh. In general, not just for our situation, but generally, you have to work for a relationship. You have to put in effort. I—it sounds like you’re trying to slip into one with me while acting the same as you did with Uraraka. That’s messed up. I’m not the same as Uraraka or anyone else you could’ve dated. You can’t replace one woman in your life with another. It may just be out of habit, since you dated her for so long, but, um. Yeah. You need to treat me like—like me.”

Midoriya hummed and brought his fist to his mouth, which moved silently for a few seconds as he formed the words, but eventually, he glanced over his shoulder to speak. “Then I’ll work for it. I’ll study you until I work my way under your skin, until I’m exactly what you want.”

It’s the arrogance in his words and the safety in the distance between you that made you roll your eyes, finally tearing them from your determined gaze at his face and settling on his dick, prettily resting half-hard on his thighs, but you refused to look at it for more than a few seconds: it’s a dick one of your best friends fucked for years.

(It’s also unnerving how he’s kept saying want instead of love.)

You held up your hand to block your view of him. “I want nothing to do with you.”

***

Perched on your hip, Dango yelled and kneaded with her claws out until you woke. Bleary, you automatically raised your hand to pet her.

You’d slept in. No field work today, just a meeting later about performance evaluations for your interns. You got to have a slow morning.

Now that you were awake and gradually becoming caffeinated, the stupider the situation grew. How audacious of Midoriya to assume you’ll like the same sort of things Uraraka likes—and sure, there’s overlap, but he’s assuming instead of figuring it out with you. You’re an individual. You can’t take anyone’s place, and no one can replace you. Honestly, it should be obvious to the number-one hero that you’re the only you out there. What an idiot.

The doorbell startled Dango from your lap. Setting your tea aside, you trudged over to see who’s crazy enough to visit at 8:36 in the morning.

You opened the door on some…kid, dressed in a worn suit, holding a tablet, and asking for your hero name, and after confirming you were you, he continued. “Hello. My name is Kazama Tetsuya, and I’m a representative of Mera Yokumiru, longest-running president of the Hero Public Safety Commission. I’m here in regards to the incident concerning pro-hero Deku at 07:41 hours this morning. Your cooperation is required. Sign here, please.”

Frowning, you took the offered tablet and stylus and slouched against your door frame. “What am I signing? How come there’s no text here?”

“Hm. They said they wanted this done as quickly as possible,” said Kazama, striding past you into your flat, and, with his hands on his hips, he took a cursory look around. “Twenty sounds like it should work.”

Tiny spheres of flesh popped off of him like gravel sliding off a shovel, and each one grew to an identical clone of himself, all of them rushing around your apartment.

“What’s going on?” you asked, shoving the tablet back towards whom you hoped was the original.

The Kazama tilted his head at you, keeping his hands flat against the tablet so that you would have to keep gripping it. “Have you not heard? Deku is in the hospital. Critical condition.”

“Okay, whatever,” you said, pushing it into his chest, slipping the corner of it under his suit lapel so that it’d stay, “What does that have to do with me? What’re all of these yous doing in my apartment?”

Kazama’s eyes flickered down to the tablet, which you were supporting with a single finger, but he made no move to grab it. “We’re packing your belongings. Due to your extreme and explicit rejection of your soulmate, Deku was unable to complete a mission. It took both Dynamight and Shouto to pin him down; his thrashing and convulsing inadvertently caused immense property damage. He was unable to be communicated with. The only reason he’s in a hospital at all is because Tainted Love was summoned to sedate him.”

You glared at the Kazamas wrapping your dishware in newspaper. “So why are you packing my stuff? Stop it.”

Kazama shook his head. “Afraid we can’t. The ultimate decision of the HPSC is that you cohabitate with Deku so that he will not experience debilitating pain again. This decision is under the stipulation of Tainted Love’s quirk that dictates that soulmate bond pain will desist if the soulmates show some form of acceptance to each other. By living in the same space, you are accepting that Deku is safe to be around in a physical capacity.”

You dropped the stylus and tablet to the floor, screen cracking. “What kind of—”

“His pain will be exacerbated if you don’t,” said Kazama, bending to pick up the tablet, “He wouldn’t be able to perform his hero work. You wouldn’t deprive Japan of its number-one hero, would you?” Kazama tucked the stylus into an inner suit pocket, and he held the broken tablet lazily at his side.

They were already unmounting your art from the walls.

Swallowing, you crossed your arms. “What about me? Am I not valued as a hero? Don’t I get a choice?”

From your bedroom, you heard Dango meowing mournfully.

***

Dressed in wrinkled civvies seized before Kazamas could pack them into a box, you stormed into your hero agency, grinding your teeth, ignoring co-workers calling out to you, and mashing the elevator button to go to the ninth floor over and over again.

You bounced on the balls of your feet in the empty elevator. When was the last time you passed out? You just might, at how worked up you’ve gotten. You placed two fingers over your wrist to take your pulse.

But the lift doors opened on a wonderfully busy ninth floor—wonderful because the woman you needed was in her office. Frazzled, you shoved open the door, palm flat on the glass, and managed to say, “Are you particularly busy right now?”

Ito set her package of cheese crackers on her desk. “Not for you. I was gonna call you when I knew you were awake,” she was saying as you shut the door behind you and approached her vacant armchair, “to let you have a bit more time, but it looks like you’ve heard.”

You plopped into the armchair across from her, tapping your fingers on the chintz. “What happened?”

“I could ask you the same question,” she said, closing her laptop, “Strongest instance of soulmate rejection I’ve ever seen.”

“Another time, Ito. What’s your involvement with this? The HPSC is packing up my apartment to move in with Deku as we speak.”

Ito winced. “Ooh, that quick? It hasn’t been three hours.”

You inhaled sharply. “That quick?Don’t tell me—”

“They called me in to subdue him, and the only way I could do that was by making him breathe in my quirk again.”

Groaning, you clonked your forehead on her desk. “I don’t want an increase in romantic clichés with Deku.”

“Sorry about that,” she said, holding out her cheese crackers to you, “Nothing else was working. He even instantly burst through Shouto’s ice veil.”

Shifting your jaw, you took a cracker. “Is three hours abnormally fast for the clichés to set in?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Damn,” you said, chewing, “I’ve gotten so used to my life alone. I like it. I’m have control over my life. I love my friends; I love my work. I’ve gotten used to not needing romance to be happy, and now it’s—I don’t want it.”

‘With Deku or at all?”

“I don’t know. Probably both.”

“Well. Hate to remind you, but you can’t blame girl code entirely for not wanting him. You know how my quirk works: there had to have been a moment of genuine attraction between the two of—”

“I know; I can even pinpoint it back to the night I felt it,” you said, holding out your hand for another cracker, “I don’t know. I don’t know! They didn’t ask me before they started packing my shit up, claiming Deku’s pain was more important than my feelings. Don’t I matter, too? Why am I fodder in this quest to alleviate Deku’s pain? Am I not important?”

Ito handed the entire packet to you. “Not as important as the number one, evidently.”

“I don’t blame you, of course; we didn’t know each other back then,” you said, peeling back the plastic to expose the next cracker and accidentally letting all of them fall to the desktop, “But it’s stupid. I feel like I’m being forced into it from so many angles. The bond won’t letting me feel anything for anyone else. It’s dumb. I’m dumb. I’m tired.”

Ito frowned and steepled her fingers. “I need you to explain some of that. Soulmate bonds let you have feelings for other people. You don’t have to be in a romantic relationship with your soulmate, so long as you’re still in their life as a positive force—it’s just that pretty much every pair has ended up romantic, anyway. I’ve known of situations with soulmate pairs within a polycule, and stuff, so—interesting. This may be an aspect of your bond specifically. Have you tried really hard to like someone else?”

“I don’t even have the motivation to.”

“That could just be you, not the bond. You said you’re used to not having romance in your life.”

“I hope it’s me, then. Makes part of it of my own volition.” You scratched the back of your head, wishing you were still in bed and ignorant of the situation.  “I haven’t seen you since the news dropped yesterday, so I’d like for you to assess what I know about the bond. Deku and I share dreams.”

“Common enough,” said Ito, nodding as she opened her desk’s top drawer, “Affects three percent of people affected by my quirk.”

“But I’ve read your reports. Most of them go to a single location, like an endless beach or the same cottage in a forest, with no one else around.” You tongued a cracker part to your cheek to enunciate more clearly. “Deku and I have been sharing an entire, fantastical world, populated with mirrors of people we know in real life.”

Ito paused as she gripped a new cracker packet. “That’s…new. New to me, anyway.”

Not a good sign. “Is there any way to stop having these dreams? I’m pissed my brain has to be turned on all of the time, and I don’t wanna see Deku every night.”

Ito fiddled with the plastic. Squinted at the ingredient list. “Not sure there’s a way to stop it on this end, but I’ll look into it. Why don’t you find the dream version of me to consult her?”

“Ito, you’re brilliant,” you said, pushing on her desk to stand, “I have a nap to take.”

You’d gotten to the door before she called your name. “Just so you know. The more you hate him, the worse his pain will get. I’m not telling you to love him. I never would. But.” Her expression glazed over; some of her thick, white hair fell into her face, and she made no move to brush it away. “It was terrifying. To see the number-one hero like that. My quirk was killing him. I like hearing men scream, but not like that. I don’t—I don’t want to hear that sound ever again.”

***

When you woke up in your fantasyland, the first thing you did was pelt Midoriya with your pillow.

“You are ruining my life at the moment,” you hissed between bites of breakfast.

In the waiting room of a diviner who was using All Might’s soul crystal to locate the altar, you shoulder-checked him. “Are we gonna be forced to combine agencies, too? Or am I gonna have to leave mine to join yours?”

Midoriya rubbed his shoulder, glancing over it at the others, discussing the map. “Legally, no, but I assume we’ll collaborate more.”

“Good. That’s my agency; I built it from scratch. I don’t want any other big decisions being made for me.”

During a water break out of the Valley of Haze, you knocked over his bag, furious with an abrupt realisation. “You were writing down my quirk.”

Midoriya hesitated before he took a drink from his canteen. “I’m sorry. When?”

“At the café when we first met here. You were writing down everyone’s quirks and how their types of magic matched up with them, and I threw you off because my magic isn’t like my quirk at all.”

Midoriya puffed out his cheeks, exhaling. “That’s true. You caught me.”

At Belldrop Pass, you gasped at the same time Shinsou paid the toll. “You idiot,” you said, thumping Midoriya’s chest, “You’ve been obvious that you weren’t thinking of Uraraka romantically. You’ve been calling her Uraraka instead of Ochaco.” You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes. “I should’ve known.”

When you stopped for a late supper outside of Mellowroom, you tried to be civil (Shinsou was watching). “Deku,” you said thickly, through a dinner roll, “I think we should find Ito here. She may be able to help with—our situation.”

Midoriya laughed nervously. “Hah, really? I guess it would be worth tracking her down again.”

You choked on your bread. “Again?”

Midoriya handed your glass to you and slumped in his seat to make the conversation private from the rest of the table. “She’s the one who told me about the soul altar. She’s not a soulwalker, but she’s the only other person I know of who has soul magic. I didn’t ask after soulmates that time because I didn’t think this was a soulmate situation.”

“I am going to crazy axe murder you.”

“Go ahead.”

You refused to talk to him all the way to the final strip of coastline where you set up camp. The group had travelled for so long that it took real effort to even unlace their boots, but you couldn’t sleep despite your exhaustion. Sleeping would mean waking up in reality.

You sat on the shore, antsy as you stared out at the sea, the thin crescent moon reflecting on the water. An island only visible in the spirit realm was supposed to be out there, and on that island, the soul altar.

You were getting too fidgety and jittery; you might work yourself up into a panic attack. Brushing the sand off your trousers, you stood, but when you turned, you bumped into Midoriya.

He shot you a curt wave. “Can’t sleep?”

You bit your lip. “Don’t want to.”

“Then you don’t have to,” he said, holding out his hand, “Let’s go to the spirit realm together. We can stake out what’s on the island before we go there officially tomorrow.”

You might as well give yourself something to do instead of overthinking. Ignoring his hand, you trudged back through the dunes towards the rest of your party, all passed out in a half-hearted attempt at setting up camp. While you intended to immediately take advantage of the homing spell the diviner placed on All Might’s soul crystal, Midoriya whispered across a sleeping Touya that you at least needed to unfurl your bedroll so that your soulless body would be secure enough to leave without a guard. Midoriya upset camp structure by dragging his own bedroll next to yours, and he set the crystal’s box on it so that it’d be there for you in the spirit realm, while you rummaged about for the dregs of the last time you made your lucidity potion. You took most of the last mouthful before passing the phial to Midoriya, and yet he was waiting for you in the spirit realm by the time you crawled out of your body.

You curled your tail around your little cat legs, and Midoriya followed the movement. “You know,” he said slowly, expression unreadable behind his mask, “You don’t have to be a cat. You can just apply a couple of cat traits to your human form, or you could do something so minor as changing your eye colour.”

“I’m not gonna be a fucking catgirl,” you said, leaping from your bedroll to his to avoid dirt on your paws.

“It’ll be faster to move around if you were bipedal.”

“Open the box,” you said, swatting at it with your paw.

“Hm. Do you think we’re within the radius for the homing spell to activate? We may have to return to the shoreline. Hey, don’t try to claw it open. That’s All Might you’re handling.” Midoriya popped open the box and moved to set it between you, but you had your grabby little paw on it before it was on the ground. Midoriya hissed and rushed to touch the crystal before you evaporated.

Less than a minute later, you materialised face-down in dirt. You curled your fingers into it, rubbing grit between them until you were tactile enough to stand, and you brushed the dirt from your dress, glancing over the half-kilometre of ocean between this island and the shoreline. If you squinted, you think you could make out your camp among the dunes.

“Thank you for cooperating,” came Midoriya’s voice from behind you, crunching dead leaves as he approached, “It’ll be easier this way.”

“I didn’t choose to look human,” you said, frowning over your exposed knees in some intangibly wispy dress, patting where your pockets had been, “You look different, too.”

Midoriya allowed you a better look at how both of your outfits clung to you in wisps, like they were curls of fog that could be swept away with a single breath. His mask was torn in half—mouth still concealed, hair still covered by rabbit-ears hood, but every movement of his eyes could now be detected—and, eerily, they were fixated on you.

He plucked a leaf from his vest to flick it away. “I didn’t choose to, either. Looks like the soul altar has some opinions on us.” His hood’s rabbit ears flickered a glowing green for a fraction of a second, both of them twitching. Midoriya didn’t notice.

Instead, he stretched his arms over his head, arching his back and looking over the curvature of an enormous tree’s limbs that shielded most of the island from moonlight. “Suppose we’d better head towards that tree, yes?” he asked, coming off of a groan.

“Seems to be the centre, anyway,” you said, striding past him towards a narrowly cut path, and behind you, Midoriya laughed. You spun on your heel and crossed your arms. “What’s so funny, Deku?”

He sobered, but his eyes still glinted. “I wasn’t going to say anything, since you didn’t seem to notice the glowing blue whiskers,” he said, waving his hand in front of his face, “but you’ve really been assigned catgirl by the spirit realm, it seems. You’ve got a tail.”

“What?” You twisted to see it, but you couldn’t discern anything at all.

“Nine of them, actually,” Midoriya was saying, smile creeping into his voice again, as you stomped towards him, “I considered you might be a kitsune at first, but then I remembered that cats are supposed to have nine lives—”

You seized his infuriatingly slim waist and forced him to spin around.

“Feel free to manhandle me more, sweet—”

“There,” you said, jabbing two fingers into his back above the swell of his ass, “You’ve been assigned bunny-boy. You’ve got a tail, too.” It’d twitched when you’d poked him. “Can you not feel it?”

“Not at all,” said Midoriya, hands raised, waiting for you to manoeuvre his body more (when you noticed, you shoved him away). “So, you can’t, either? Funny.”

“I’ll kill you,” you said, turning back to the path, “I’ll really do it this time.”

“Do you think that if we die here, we’ll die in real life?” he asked as he jogged to catch up with you. “Since it is really us who come here, if in spirit or soul rather than body, then do you think we’d…”

Midoriya babbled the entire walk to the soul altar, sucking out all the fun of threatening to murder him. At the centre of an overgrown, stone dais, the trunk of the grand tree was hollowed out by erosion, worn through by a spring running through it and pooling at its base, the clearest water you’ve ever seen burbling quietly underneath a smattering of lily pads. Glowing wildflowers crept onto the platform, and the tree’s branches grew downward, creating a cramped dome around the space.

Midoriya ran his hand over the domed branches, failing to push them from their structure. “I wouldn’t know if this is the altar. I’m assuming, since the stone dais indicates that someone built this, but—call me naïve, but I was picturing an altar.”

“No, I think it is,” you said, crouching near the water, “There’s a stone lily pad. At the centre of the spring. Is it just me, or does the way the flower’s formed look like it would hold a soul crystal?”

Midoriya knelt next to you on the rim. “It’s not just you.”

You stood and edged closer to the stone lily pad. “Do you think either of us could reach it?”

Brow furrowed, Midoriya said, “I don’t think we should touch—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Midoriya brushed a curl out of his face at the same time his rabbit ears trembled. “It’s too far out for either of us to reach securely, but I could help—”

“Give me the soul crystal.” You braced your knees on the pool’s edge, and you stretched over the water, straining your arm until you were just a few inches short of the lily pad. You wriggled your fingers in an attempt to graze it. You waited for his admonishment, but it never came. Baffled, you glanced over your shoulder.

Midoriya stared into his lap, thumbs intertwining. “I don’t think so,” he said, shifting his jaw, “You’re tired and desperate for answers. You shouldn’t let All Might be the expendable part of this. We should go back to camp and try this for real in the morning.” His wide, hard eyes locked with yours, and for some reason, it was too much, the way the spirit realm made them glow with life more than they ever did in reality. “You need to listen to—”

Losing your balance by jerking away from his glare, you fumbled for support on the stone lily pad, but you closed your fist around nothing but water and slipped. For three, aching seconds, freezing water pierced through to your soul, but Midoriya snatched you from the water before your brain could register you’d fallen in.

“You’re okay; you’re okay. Relax,” Midoriya was saying, clutching you to his chest to share his body heat, while you shivered and writhed despite his hands on your waist and your forehead (probably to keep from banging your head on the dais), “Really, sweetheart, when I tell you not to do something, it’s for your own good.”

“Don’t sta—start that with me,” you said, sputtering, “I’ll kill—”

“Wait, shh, shh, shh.” Midoriya clamped a hand over your mouth, and you were about to rip it away, but with a minute move of his hand, he directed your line of sight to what he was talking about.

The stone lily pad sank into the pool, furiously bubbling from the spot, spreading to cover the pool’s surface, the sound of rippling water growing each second.

Gasping, your hand flew to a suddenly hot spot on your lower back, and—even through your closed eyelids, you could make out the intensely blue glow, surging brighter and brighter. Midoriya pushed down on your back, keeping you between his legs but with enough space for—you could see them, this time—for your tails to splinter off and dive into the pool, heat leaving with them.

As you struggled to sit back up (Midoriya helped you up by wrapping an arm around your shoulders), wide swaths of angrily frothing bubbles surged from each tail’s entry point, each glowing in turn as you tried to catch a glimpse of the surfacing images—

***

“No, c’mon—sit all the way down,” Katsuki was saying, and you flinched when you looked down to see that he was gripping your thighs, forcing them apart, with the lower half of his face glistening in the lamplight. “There’s no way the bond won’t extend this far; it applied to your gag reflex. You won’t hurt me—and besides, I can handle you any day of the week with my hands tied behind my back.”

***

You flinched at the pop of a cork, planted in a crowd of your friends at a formal celebration and gripping an empty glass, and at your side, Neito let the champagne foam gush onto the floor, laughing as your friends applauded. You could see the moment the idea crossed his mind: he swopped the bottle to his clean hand, and, with a smug grin, he held his champagne-soaked fingers to your mouth, in front of everybody.

***

Shouto seized you from the party and onto a battlefield covered in smoke, his whole hand encircling your forearm, and after he gave you a once-over, he slid his hand down to yours, his wedding band hot from his flames.

“Don’t worry,” Shouto said, clasping your hand and easing his own to a comfortable warmth, gesturing with the other towards the bleeding scratches on his face and neck, “I can’t feel a thing.”

***

“I wish Eri and Tenko had come to the farmers’ market with us,” you found yourself saying, putting an apple back in its stall, “Then I’d have a better idea of what they might want over the holiday.”

“I wish you’d think more about what you want.” Shouta’s voice grumbled in your ear, body heat blending with yours as his hand came to rest on your waist. “I’m glad they didn’t come. Between them, our friends, and our students, I need all the time with you I can get.”

When he brought your hand to his mouth, Shouta left a glittering, pink mark behind.

***

You were still staring at the back of your hand when you were slammed into a darkened room, sinking into a mattress with tears running down your cheeks.

“I—I love you; I’ve loved you for so long,” came Hitoshi’s voice, his own tears dropping onto your neck as he kissed your pulse point, the barest edge of his fingers brushing over your bare skin, pressing lightly into the underside of your breast, “I was terrified that I’d never be allowed to look your way.” His hips shifted between your legs, one of his large hands dragging upwards along the inside of your thigh. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

***

“To get what you want, Touya,” you heard yourself saying into your phone, feeling yourself physically sitting on a kitchen stool but seeing things through Touya’s eyes, seeing his hands run down his bare chest, thumbs pricking at his boxers, “You have to tell me how pretty you look right now.”

Touya’s hands faltered, clenching into fists. “Hey, fuck you. Why don’t you come back home, then, instead of leaving me by myself? I get so worked up when you’re not—”

“Say it, baby.”

Touya slid his hand past elastic to squeeze himself, cutting off his groan with a breathy inhale, the tiny hole in his cheek whistling. “I guess I’m—”

***

You’re blinded by falling cherry blossoms. You had to blink to adjust. Tenko was at your side, dressed in a mirror of your own pink yukata, and he was yanking you off the sakura-viewing path, out of the way of the scavenger hunters rushing to find the next clue. Tenko pushed you against a tree out of sight, smile toothy and endearing in the moment before he kissed you, quiet but all-consuming and fervent.

***

Your soul thumped back into your body with enough force to knock Midoriya backwards with you, and once again, you were soaked and shivering and miserable, instead of feeling all of that warmth. It took a few moments for its dregs to drain from your chest, and then the cavity it left was simply hollow.

Midoriya had his arms around your torso and legs clenched around yours, bracing you from falling back farther on the dais, and his voice came quietly. “Is that it? Aren’t there any more?”

You tried to inhale. Your nose was stopped up. “Aren’t those enough?”

Midoriya’s grip loosened, arms falling to your waist—enough room to leave, if you had the strength. Once he pulled his mask down to rest around his neck, his voice was less muffled. “You—you still have two more left.”

Grimacing, you wiped your nose on your wispy sleeve. “What?”

From behind you came another bright blue glow, but it didn’t plunge into the water on impulse like the others had. Instead, the cattail detached itself and wove itself around your wrist playfully, nudging what might be its head at your palm. For barely a full second, you felt that warmth again, and again you felt its loss when the tail unravelled itself from your forearm and wafted towards the stone lily pad, in which it curled into a gossamer sphere and vanished.

You held your wrist to your mouth in a vain hope to trace that warmth. “I think that may have been a life in which I don’t have a soulmate. Or perhaps all of them.”

Midoriya nodded against the crown of your head, and he reached around to grasp your forearm, drawing it away from your face to examine it himself. “One of them is sticking around. I supposed we can assume what that one is.”

“Deku,” you said, as he twisted your forearm to get a better look, while you were baffled why the pool was growing blurry, “All of those people I was soulmates with, in different lifetimes—I.” You cut yourself off, plucking your wet dress away from your skin. “They were the only people we know who weren’t affected by Ito’s quirk. What if—what if I’m the reason they don’t have a soulmate? What if I’m supposed to be their soulmate, but we can’t be paired off in this timeline because of you and me, and so their lives are colourless—”

Midoriya kissed your wrist, in the same spot you had.

Ah. The pool was blurry because you’re crying. You’re so wet that you hadn’t noticed.

You turned around in his hold, fingers curling into the damp spot on his shirt. “I’ve fucked our friends over, Deku. I’ve ruined their lives. They’re gonna have to watch everyone else they know, including you and me, dawdle in this sappy fucking soulmate shit forever, and they’re always gonna feel—” You slapped a fist to your chest. “They’re gonna feel this hollowness for the rest of their lives—I just had a taste of what that soulmate warmth feels like, and even in those flashes, it made its home in my gut, and I don’t know how I’m gonna live without that now that it’s touched me.” You grabbed his shirt again, a bit too roughly, forcing his ass down a stair on the dais. “I’d chase that feeling until the end of time if I knew it was snatched from me.”

Eyes darting between your face and hands, Midoriya closed his hand around your fist and pried it away from his shirt. “You can have that warmth again with me.”

“I don’t fucking care about you right now,” you said, beating his chest and pushing him down another step, “I care about my friends, whom I love. And apparently people I didn’t even know were important to me. They’re gonna wander the earth alone, and no one should have to do that. Fuck.” You shoved him away, crawled a few steps up the dais, stooped on the edge of the water, and buried your face in your hands. “How can I fix this?”

“You don’t have to,” Midoriya was saying, splayed out as you’d left him at the bottom of the stairs (hands held up cautiously, as if he’s taming a wild animal—and you resented that). “It’s not your responsibility. It’s just another aspect of the soulmate trope quirk. No part of this is your fault.”

“Why is there only one of me,” you asked flatly, dragging your clammy palms down your cheeks.

Midoriya hissed through his teeth, the wisps of his shirt collar dissipating and reforming with the movement. “You don’t know that they’re suffering. You know they’d complain—”

“You don’t let anyone know when there’s shit going on with you.”

He paused, brow furrowing. “That’s different.”

“Please. Promoting all this bullshit about supporting each other when you keep everyone locked out—in those brief flashes, I felt closer to each and every one of them than I ever have to you.” A full-body shiver wracked through you. You toyed with the hem of your dress, but you can’t take it off; he’s right there. “Hell, I barely had ten seconds with each of them, but I know that I’d take any of them over being here with you.”

“You haven’t given me a chance.”

“Why would I, when you’ve been scarily opportunistic? I—fuck,” you said, tugging at your hair and standing to pace, “I could’ve had anything. Could’ve had everything. Could’ve been content and happy and warm, but instead I have to be here. With you, instead of any of those men who know how to love me, and I them. I’ve fucked them over.”

Midoriya took a moment. Wetted his lips. Moved to a crouch. “Please listen to me. Not one iota of this is your fault. It’s just a pattern that’s been made clear to us because of this fantastical situation we’ve found ourselves in. In our reality, when we’re awake, you have one soulmate. You have no bonds with the others. You’re not their soulmate. You’re mine. And I’m yo—”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you said, clomping down the dais and shunting your foot against his chest, pinning him to the ground (the back of your head said that he was letting you do that, since he could rip you to shreds at any shut the fuck up). “This isn’t about romance, shithead. This is about losing a primary relationship that helps them grow as human people. What if I’m the catalyst for a bunch of character development, and they don’t get that now? Use your fucking brain, Deku. I want my friends to be the best versions of themselves that they can…they…”

Your mouth clamped shut. He’d gotten that determined gleam in his eyes again, staring up at you, practically sparking slivers of that OFA lightning, and he’d snaked his hand around your ankle.

Your brain emptied when his thumb rubbed over the bone on the inside of your ankle.

“I don’t think that’s quite true.” He was suppressing it. He was. But he couldn’t entirely hide the upwards quirking of his mouth when he spoke. “How much of this petulance is because it’s me?”

Intending to huff, your stopped-up nose made you hrnk stupidly instead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, lifting your foot’s pressure from his chest.

But Midoriya tightened his grip around your ankle, trapping it against him, no matter how hard you struggled. “You don’t want to inconvenience anyone. You think that living in another timeline wouldn’t’ve upset the status quo here. Here, you appear to inconvenience many people—Uraraka and me, the people who have certain perceptions of us. The ones who aren’t your soulmate. You think you’ll even upset the balance of your friend group, because no one has dated another friend’s ex before. You don’t want this, because there’s no easy way out. It’s too much trouble.”

His hood’s rabbit ears sparked green and shuddered before fading, reminding you of all the trouble Midoriya’s been for you for the past few months. You tried to jerk your foot away, not caring if your shoe came off, but he caught the back of your knee with his other hand and yanked you down towards him. You hated how he’d perfectly set up your fall, straddling his chest without hurting either of you. Securing you to him by your knee, he’d relinquished his hold on your ankle to intertwine his fingers with yours—if he hadn’t, you’d be choking him by now.

“You don’t want to rock the boat, because it’ll be hard. Well, let me tell you something,” he said, curls splayed around his head, flat on the earth, concentrating all of that resolve and brainpower on you (as if you were someone worth watching), “Life is hard, my dear. But isn’t it worthwhile to try?”

“I can’t take this.” You blundered behind you for the velvet box clipped to his belt, and the instant you touched the soul crystal, you beamed back to your body at camp.

Gasping, you bolted upright, throat very dry, eyes adjusting to the physical realm’s moonlight—startling Shinsou, quietly puttering about to heat up some coffee while the others still slept. Over his shoulder, out over the ocean, the island was gone, and Shinsou was tilting his head, opening to mouth to ask what had happened, when Midoriya returned to his body as well.

Face red with fury and still soaked to the bone, Midoriya spat, “You can’t just run from all of—”

You scrambled away when he grabbed for you, throwing yourself over your bags and Shinsou’s as a barrier, and at the fire, you clutched Shinsou’s arm.

Midoriya remained in his hunch from when he’d tried to catch you, fist digging into the dirt. The heaviness of his shoulders rising and falling would have been more intimidating if his nose hadn’t been whistling, but you didn’t like it, the way he was looking at you, because that was the look he only ever gave villai—well. You could work with that.

Jumbled and scared and angry, you grabbed Shinsou by his kinky, medieval collar and kissed him, because if Midoriya’s going to look at you like a villain, you’d like to deserve it, especially since he doesn’t seem to want to blame you for any of this, not even that your soul’s evidently compatible with other people (and wouldn’t he want you all to himself?), and Shinsou made some sort of squeak that turned into a quiet grunt at the back of his throat before opening his mouth; you needed to push Midoriya away, because even if you let yourself like him, what if you screw up this soulmate in addition to all the others, and then what percentage of your friends will you have fucked up? Shinsou’s actually really good at this, wow, but shouldn’t Midoriya be jealous about that why is he letting this go on for so long.

Stones sinking into your gut, you broke from Shinsou, pressing your forehead to his, mouthing thank you, and giving his hair a final ruffle before pulling away entirely. Shinsou remained frozen in his campseat, but Midoriya had crossed his arms, looking out over the ocean and quite bored.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, on your tongue, and on the roof of your mouth. He’d been so vehement, so intense, and this quiet stoicism made your breath hitch in your throat. Isn’t he—isn’t he going to say anything? Rebuke you?

When Shinsou asked something along those lines, all Midoriya did was wipe some of the dirt off of his jawline and rub it between his fingers. “She knows what she’s doing wrong.”

***

You woke up for the first time in Midoriya’s apartment, sick to your stomach, and seeing all of your worldly possessions in boxes against the wall of his guest room, creating claustrophobia, did not help. Even the sheets that fell to your waist when you sat up weren’t yours; the only stuff you’d unpacked last night was Dango’s bare requirements. Where is she, anyway? You needed to press your face into her belly fluff.

Hoping Dango damaged some of Midoriya’s tchotchkes in the night, you stumbled to the bathroom and knelt by the toilet, waiting for the nausea to pass. God, you really did kiss Shinsou to piss off Midoriya, didn’t you? Your stomach flipped at the thought of using your best friend for something like that, especially since—you winced, resting your forehead against the bathtub rim—since Shinsou might like you romantically.

Fuck, all of them might.

You doubted it, because you normally don’t have that sort of luck, but regardless, you hoped to God they didn’t. You couldn’t stand the thought of their feeling that hollowness.

Would dream Shinsou be mad at you for using him? You didn’t want him to be mad. He’s Shinsou. Checking in with the real Shinsou about it would get you out of this apartment. It’s still incredible early in the morning; you weren’t even sure the sun had risen yet, but you needed to escape. Eyeing the new toothbrush Midoriya had given you last night, you pushed yourself up, still a bit wobbly, and got ready as quietly as you could.

All your sneaking didn’t matter, though, because a shirtless Midoriya was in the kitchen when you passed through it, popping above the maximum dose of ibuprofen into his mouth, slumping over the counter, and mumbling under his breath to the sound of his electric kettle boiling. Maybe you could just slip behind him, and he wouldn’t say anyth—

“It’s good to see you up,” said Midoriya, keeping his back to you and removing his kettle from the heat (you winced, shoulders slackening now that you’ve been caught), “I figured you would stay in bed today. You went through a lot last night.”

“I have work,” you said, trying to look anywhere but his tensing biceps as he poured water over a teabag in an Ingenium mug, “I—I don’t wanna sit around and have time to think.”

“You and I could call out of work. Could unpack your things,” he said, facing you and fiddling with the string on his teabag, “Would you like some tea? I have more than just oolong.”

You started edging towards the door. “No, I’m. I’m going to work.”

Midoriya blinked. Glanced at the clock on the wall. “All right. Wear your raincoat; it’s supposed to storm around sunrise.”

Was it? “I don’t know where Kazama packed my raincoat.”

“Take mine, then. In the closet by the door.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you said, spinning on your heel towards the closet, anyway. You couldn’t get to most of your packed-away clothes, so it made sense to protect the few articles of clothing you had access to.

Midoriya followed a few paces behind, bobbing the teabag in his mug. “Don’t get angry with me for looking out for you,” he said, blinking slowly, leaning against the wall while you rooted through his hanging jackets, “Would you prefer I let you suffer? Oh, you passed it. It’s the green one.”

“How is your suffering, incidentally?” You pulled his raincoat off the hanger and shoved your arms into the sleeves. “Need another trip to the hospital?”

“Would it betray my otherwise calm exterior if I revealed that I’m barely holding it together?” He grasped your shoulder and turned you towards himself in what should have been akin to manhandling but was actually gentle. “I’ll be okay. It’s better now that you’re here,” said Midoriya, zipping up the jacket for you, holding eye contact once the zipper stopped at your throat.

What. The fuck. Is he going to keep pulling these mundane (but weirdly doing it for you) moves? “Then allow me to leave,” you said, reaching for the doorknob.

***

“Hitoshi,” you said, deeming it deep enough in your visit to mention it, “I have a hypothetical question for you.”

Shinsou unlaced his boot to make a tighter attempt. “Try me.”

“Hypothetically. Hypothetically. If—if you and I knew each other in a different universe, if we’re still the same people adapted for a different world—hypothetically. Would—” You swallowed thickly, and you took a sip from your takeaway cup, full of the bleak-in-taste but high-in-caffeine coffee perpetually available in the break room at Might Tower. “Hypothetically, if I—fuck. Okay. If I kissed you, to prove a point, to piss someone else off, to make someone else jealous—hypothetically, would that version of you be mad at me? Start to hate me?”

With a wry smile, Shinsou paused in his cleaning the inside of his mask, dabbing the interstices with an alcohol wipe. “If he’s truly anything like me,” he said, reaching over to ruffle your hair, “he’s grateful for anything you’ll give him. For any reason.”

You didn’t bother to bat away his hand like usual, and without your protestations, he returned to his mask. “You’re breaking my heart, Hitoshi.”

“That makes two of us.”

***

The train ride to Bakugou’s agency had you vibrating out of your skin. You didn’t even flash your ID at the front desk of Genius Offices; the elevator couldn’t rise fast enough to the floor with Bakugou’s office—you had to see him to test if a-fucking-nother of your friends had feelings for you, if your fears of ruining their lives were well-founded. Employees let your through because of your hero status but also because of the intensely manic energy you emitted, and the path to Bakugou’s office cleared the first step you took out of the elevator.

When you slammed open his door, the knob struck the wall, flecking off paint, and your heart stopped: yes, Bakugou was taking up as much space as he could in his swivel chair, wrists draped over the chair’s arms, legs splayed, one of them kicked up on his desk, but Midoriya stood across from him, in civvies still wet from the rain, halted mid-pace, lips still parted. You couldn’t let his presence change anything; you had to—well, you’ll have to expediate the conversation since he’s here.

Supressing panic, you strode towards Bakugou, determinedly ignored Midoriya, and straddled Bakugou’s thigh to cup his face to kiss him. Damn, Bakugou—he immediately opened his mouth, hot and consuming and a little dizzying in the way his tongue pushed into your mouth, pressing against yours—that’s enough.

You broke from Bakugou, panting. “Katsuki,” you said softly, feeling Midoriya’s gaze bore into the back of your head, “Do you have feelings for me?”

“Hahh.” Bakugou’s grip slid from your waist along the curve of your hip, fingers digging into your skin for three seconds—his eyes darting over your shoulder and back to your lips. “I, uh. Never planned on discussing them in front of Izuku. Wasn’t gonna bring them up at all, with the news two days ago that you two are soulma—”

“Oh, God.” You stumbled off of Bakugou’s lap and onto the floor, hitting your head on his desk as you threw up on his fancy carpet.

You were vaguely aware of being shuffled to the in-house infirmary and getting treated for a concussion, with employees trafficking in and out of the infirmary, and your first coherent thought, however much time later, was that it was making you nauseous how gently Midoriya cradled your hand in his when he could snap every bone in it without trying. He was talking to the doctor and Bakugou in turn in that low, firm voice, but words escaped you, only absorbing Bakugou’s subdued frustration and Midoriya’s quiet decisiveness.

You snapped back into it when Todoroki walked in—did he feel the same as Shinsou and Bakugou?—and you seized up, clutching Midoriya’s hand to your chest, teeth digging into the inside of your cheek. “I’ve ruined their lives,” you said under your breath to Midoriya, flinching when his free hand came up to stroke your back, but the gesture grounded you.

“You haven’t,” he whispered back, angling your body towards his so that your voice wouldn’t carry (in your periphery, Bakugou had the decency to thump Todoroki’s arm to pull his attention from your conversation).

“I checked with Shinsou,” you said in a rush, “and now we know Bakugou does, too. I’m so fucking scared to ask anyone else—”

“Don’t do it,” said Midoriya, squeezing your hand, “Knowing won’t make you feel any better. It’s gonna be fine. You had no control over this. No one will blame you for anything.”

“I’m scared.”

“You’ll be okay. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. Though, you’ve already hurt yourself a fair amount on Bakugou’s desk—you don’t have a concussion; don’t worry too much.” His middle and ring fingers traced down your spine. “But since you’ve thrown up, why don’t we go home?”

“If we go home, I’ll fall asleep,” you said, tasting blood from how much you’ve bitten your cheek, “and I can’t handle that right now. I need to just stop; I don’t wanna be here or there.”

“All right.” Midoriya nodded, tapping his thumb on the back of your palm with a squeeze to your interlaced fingers. “We’ll see what we can do. Even if you do fall asleep, I’ll make sure none of our party bothers you, if you want.”

“Yeah.” You mirrored his nod, frazzled and jumpy and not quite there, but his hand on your back kept you from dissolving into nothing.

“Listen. I’ll pick up takeaway from somewhere and meet you at home. You have a preferred place? Type of food?”

Your tongue took up too much space in your mouth. But your body needed food, even if you didn’t feel like eating. “Would it be too much trouble to stop by Saizeriya?”

“None at all. Text me your order. You go home and find Dango; pet her until I get back. She was under my bed last time I saw her.” After a moment of wavering, Midoriya pressed his lips to your hairline.

***

You did not return to Midoriya’s flat. Tucking his raincoat closer around you, you topped off your rental car’s gas tank on your way out of town, standing as far away from the dripline of the overhang but getting splashed along your jeans, anyway.

You had no goal. Just wanted distance. Driving in the rain was grounding today, for some reason, and something as horribly modern as driving and traffic laws only existed in this universe, therefore very far from your dreamland.

But you had to sleep eventually, and though dread flooded you, you pulled into a roadside station outside of Kikugawa, got a drink from a vending machine, and kept your phone off, despite the urge to doomscroll. The missed calls and text notifications would corrode your gut, and who knows what sort of tracking services Midoriya might be able to enact?

You watched raindrops race each other down the windshield until your eyes couldn’t stay open, and then you tugged the raincoat’s hood over your eyes to block out the lightning.

***

You could hear Monoma and Touya talking in the distant dunes when you woke. No sign of Shinsou or Midoriya in camp, but you could never be too careful.

You slipped into the spirit realm without anyone realising you’d been awake, and you flipped over to face the soul crystal’s box peeking out of Midoriya’s rucksack. Sitting up out of your body, you pinched your nose, reluctantly humanoid but conceding to its convenience, and took what felt like your first breath all day. Your hand passed through the soul crystal’s box at first—normal for handling a physical object in the spirit realm, so you concentrated on focusing your energy into your fingers.

You had to get to the altar. You weren’t sure how you were going to do it, but you were going to fix this. It had to be this you, not any of the others who neither knew about everyone else nor accessed soul magic. At the soul altar, you would somehow split yourself for everyone to have you—and that may destroy you in this timeline; you didn’t know—but you had to try something—fuck, only the edges of your thumbs were physically manifesting—but something very, very solid closed around your wrist and knocked away the velvet box: Midoriya’s hand.

He caught both of your hands with such speed that he was on top of you before you could register the touch of his thumb and ring finger.

(But—and this was fucking weird—Midoriya wasn’t using his body to dominate you sexually like you’d expect, through a typical move like pinning your arms down and straddling you, a knee between your legs, but instead he’s—he’s completely flattened himself to hold you down, like a weighted blanket. He brought one of your hands between your chests, over his heart, and he propped himself up very slightly by his other elbow, still restraining your hand, and you loathed how it was because he was being considerate, angling his head away from your neck so that his breath wouldn’t wash down it. The chill of the spirit realm made you almost wish he would. But he’s clever, annoyingly clever, and still so kind—he’s got you pinned without room for movement, but nothing hurt. Of course your enemy had to be the most observant and adept piece of shit you’ve ever met.)

Midoriya remained silent for two, long minutes while you stared up past green wisps of hair into the colourless, overcast sky.

“Please don’t do anything drastic to yourself.” He was close enough to hear his swallow. “You don’t need to fix anything. They chose to have romantic feelings for you. You didn’t make them do anything. This happened to you outside of your control. However they deal with their feelings is on them. Other versions of us have all managed. We’re just not at that stage of our lives yet.

“And I think you may be afraid that being with me may narrow your happiness and the happiness of others, and I—I think I’ve made that worse by allowing you glimpses of how I was with Uraraka, but we were fine; she encouraged me to let her give up that control, but you’re right. She and I talked about that. You and I haven’t, and I fall back into comfortable behaviour because it’s the only love I’ve ever known. But if you wanted something romantic between us, it would in no way consume your other relationships. If you like, we could work to foster whatever you want with—with people who are your soulmates elsewhere. No romance is worth cutting yourself off from everyone else. Whatever you want, I’ll do. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

You writhed underneath him, saliva building on your tongue. You didn’t have exact words for your feelings, but you should start somewhere. “I wouldn’t expect you to be anything other than yourself. Don’t change yourself for me.”

Out of your periphery, you caught his incredulous expression. “I know I will in thousands of small ways, in how much tea I brew, in how loudly I play my music, in how often I leave the lights on. It’s natural to change, and I’ll gladly do it. I’ll still be me, at the end of it. And, if I may—” He wetted his lips. “—I would venture that the same’s already happened to you. There’s a reason why this you, over any of the others, is here, right now, with me. The choices you’ve made, all the changes and tweaks to yourself that have led to your current personality, have made you perfect to be here, instead of any of the other timelines. This version of you may be too introverted to be with Bakugou or too indirect for Todoroki—I don’t know. But our souls are made for each other, for the right here and right now, and I’d like to know why. The only way I can learn is with you. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. But I think—I think we could be good for each other.”

You scoffed, with Midoriya lifting his head to search your face. “Come off of it, Midoriya. I’ve been nothing but hostile towards you. You can’t actually believe that.”

“I do.” He lifted himself enough to look you in the eye, taking some of his weight off of your chest (and your boobs finally weren’t smushed). “I’ve known you tangentially for years, and I’ve known you directly for almost two months now.”

“I didn’t know you were real—”

“But I was, and I was being myself the whole time. Were you?”

Where’s he going with this? “Yes.”

“The you I’ve been getting to know is funny and determined and amiable. She’s quick on her feet and eager to solve problems and cares so, so deeply for other people. And, moreover,” Midoriya said, green eyelashes dark against his skin, “she seems very protective of her heart. I understand your caution; I used to—oh, gracious.”

He released the hand at your side to rub his eye, and he removed himself from your entirely to kneel at your side. You were cold without him.

Midoriya gripped his knees, changed his mind, and went back to rubbing his eye. “Lately, I’ve been really into soft cheeses.”

Sitting up, you crossed your arms, your wispy clothes doing nothing to obstruct the chill. “I’m sorry?”

“I can hardly expect you to let me into your heart when I’ve been absent from mine. You’re right, of course, that I don’t tell people about myself,” said Midoriya, shrugging and slumping afterwards, “My whole life for so long was becoming a hero, so I admit I didn’t have many interests outside of that obsession. Now, being a gregarious but blank slate encourages people to project whatever they need to onto me so that they’ll let me help them. The detail of liking katsudon is minor enough to ground me in reality, reminds the public I’m human. I…”

Grimacing, Midoriya ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “I’ve grown. I’m more than minutiae; I’m more than my actions. I’m still figuring it out myself. But learning, us, together—starts with details from both of us. So, lately, I’ve been into soft cheeses, but my favourite brie and mozzarella are only offered at this farmers’ market just outside of town that only pops up once a month. I don’t always have the date right, so I’ve made the journey only to show up to an empty market more than once. And I don’t know if you’ve been to the kitchen yet, but I usually keep a puzzle going. Right now, I’m doing this 1500-piece puzzle of a red-eyed tree frog on a leaf, and all of the green is making it particularly difficult. I’d love for you to join, and—and I’ve tried to make myself like coffee, but it’s never meshed for me. I always take my tea with sugar instead of milk, which makes me feel like I take it wrong. Don’t most people take it with milk, no sugar?”

You smiled. It’s good to hear the familiar rambling. “I can’t say I’ve thought about it much. I…” You brought your knees to your chest, hugging them and shivering. If he could try to open up, you could, too. “Something a bit similar is going on at work right now. Before all of our soulmate stuff, the biggest drama had to do with the break room coffee creamer. We ran out, and Mina asked Yaoyorozu to make some. She did, but suddenly, there was a debate about whether or not it was creepy to drink something from Yao’s body.”

Midoriya dropped his hand into his lap and managed a small smile. “I don’t think I’d drink that.”

“Yeah, and there were a lot of weird takes, comparing it to breast milk, and stuff. Ultimately, Mina didn’t have coffee at all that morning.”

“Probably for the best,” said Midoriya, glancing off towards the ocean, where the island waited in the distant fog, “I put your Saizeriya’s in the refrigerator. Have you eaten, wherever you are?”

Fidgeting, you moved to bite the inside of your cheek but stopped yourself; the skin smarted on this side of reality, too. “I’m fine. I got something from a vending machine.”

Midoriya frowned. “That’s not a meal. Where are you?”

“I’m…at a rest stop outside of Kikugawa.”

His head snapped towards you. “Kikugawa? What are you—” He winced, ducking his head. “You’re scared of me.”

“I feel better now that we’ve talked,” you said, “I—it’s complicated. My main road block is knowing that I’m tied up with some of our friends in other universes—but I think you’re right; there’s nothing I can do about it. So, I’ll get over that, eventually, hopefully, but I know it’s going to haunt me for a long time. I’ll be fine about that in time. The other road block is, uh.” You couldn’t finish. It was almost too childish to voice.

Midoriya sighed. “Do you want to arrange a meeting with Uraraka in which she gives you her blessing?”

“She already has,” you said, resting your chin on your knee, “Through text, though. Might be better if we talked face-to-face.”

“Right. It will also be beneficial for you to meet her real soulmate, Spike. The difference between how she behaved with me compared to Spike is immense. What else is in the way?”

You sucked in through your teeth. “You know how the Class A girls have a group text?”

“The one left over from Girls and Todoroki Nights?”

“Eh, no. This is a separate one without Todoroki or Shinsou; it’s only women. Okay, so, uh. Uraraka,” you said, hesitant on how to phrase it, “never directly said anything about the, uh, nature of your relationship—never said anything about whatever imbalanced power dynamic you had going on. But she would talk about, like.” God, you can’t look at him. You squared your jaw and said hastily, “She would tell us about your dick and how well you fucked her and sometimes when you would do hot or cute things in bed; like we all found out about how you came in your pants the first time you fingered her, and how your cock is really leaky and you have special fabric underwear to absorb it, and how you eat pussy like you’re making out with it, and—”

(And again, Midoriya surprised you, because instead of turning bright red and sputtering something about not needing to hear any more, he pinched his lower lip, tongue tapping the point of a canine, and said—)

“Do you believe any of it?”

You halted mid-sentence, mouth still shaped like your next word. You closed it before it could dry out. “I do, now.”

“I see. I should’ve expected she’d share details about our sex life; she’s into exhibitionism, and sharing details in a group text is nowhere nearly as exhibitionist as the punishments she wanted me to enact,” he said, as if he weren’t dragging both himself and your friend under, “I’m sorry for my earlier behaviour, especially at the waterfall. You’re right that I was letting myself continue a habit. I should’ve asked what you wanted. Do you…” He pressed his fist to his mouth and looked away, jaw clamped shut to prevent talking aloud.

If you said it out loud, you made it real. You’ve already done your best to squash it down, but—you guessed—Midoriya deserved fair play. “Some of what you did was attractive, but since we hadn’t talked about it, I was scared. I still am, because—well, we’re going to work out the other lives stuff together—but I’m still feeling scared and guilty because you’re my friend’s ex. I know this is only an issue because I’m too trapped in my own head, and I am by no means slut-shaming, or anything, but—I don’t know. I’m scared that every time I touch you that I’ll be comparing myself to Uraraka and if she—did it better, or something. It’s a worry because I know her extremely well, not because there’s been someone with you before me. I know this is ridiculous—”

“All the more reason for you to leave your own mark on me,” Midoriya said, and he removed his cape to wrap it around your trembling shoulders, fixing the clasp around your neck. “Noticed you were cold,” he said with a quick smile, “But if, in any way, it unnerves you that someone you know has touched me, shouldn’t you replace them with your own? How much time should I set aside?”

“What?” You pulled the cape more closely around you, twisting its surprisingly heavy fabric to cover your lap. “Are you—what happened to the Midoriya I knew in school?”

“I’m still him. Every bit.” He toyed with the corner edge of the cape, rubbing it between his fingers. “Listen. If you detach you and me from the situation, from the relationships with our friends, from any context whatsoever, what would you want? Would you want anything from me? Would you want me?”

When he flipped the cape’s corner into your lap and removed his hand, you were tempted to grab hold of it. “I could,” you said, fingers instead curling into the fabric, “It’ll take a while to walk out of my conflicted headspace, but I could.”

Midoriya heaved an enormous sigh, tension visibly leaving his body. “Thank goodness. I fear I’m already too into you to back away. I would if you wanted me to, of course, but—”

(You missed part of the rambling for the huh? What the hell was the number-one hero doing, pining after you? What had you ever done to get his attention?

Two months wasn’t a long time. Possible, of course, but unlikely. Was…was he attracted to you before the soulmate situation occurred?)

“—only hope that you’ll forgive me for my bad behaviour; I should’ve talked to you from the start. I guess I was scared, too,” Midoriya was saying when you snapped back into it, “May I—may I assume we’ll spend more time together? Get to know each other?”

“You may,” you said, and all of the past months of dreaming and running around and avoiding vulnerability weighed down on your back, pressing down to flatten and crush—so, you rolled your shoulders back. Sat up straight. Bit your lip as you looked him directly in the eye and said, “Midoriya, you have permission to seduce me.”

Midoriya opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, brow furrowed. “Are you sure about that?”

“So long as you’re clever about it,” you said, moving to sit on your knees, mirroring him, “So long as you seduce me on an intellectual and moral level before you—you can’t rely solely on your enormous hands and big, ol’ wet eyes. I challenge you to ease me into a romantic relationship from friendship. I want you to make me feel soooooo comfortable. I want you to surprise me.”

You heard the OFA static, rather than saw it. A quiet crackle that faded as he clenched his jaw.

“But otherwise, I want you to do it in ways that you like. Not necessarily what you’re used to.” You were grinning, fascinated by the heady way he was staring at you, unable to tear his eyes away from yours. “I wanna see what you like. I’ll tell you if I’m not into something.”

A few seconds passed before Midoriya answered. “I’m into a lot of things,” he said slowly.

“Yeah? I wanna see what you can give me.”

Twin bolts of lightning snapped and popped around his body, bright and blinding as if they were in the sky, and they sizzled out in an instant when he opened his mouth. “You seem to like to argue. To push back a little. Am I wrong?”

You shook your head, watching the tiny ripples of static electricity weave like snakes around his arms and down to his fingers, tips of your own hair starting to frizz.

“Right. What’s our safeword?”

You cast your thoughts around, and they settled on your seedling fortune from Alderside’s festival. Well. While no one can control your fortune, you’ll make it your own. “Lotus. As in the flower.”

With a slow blink that shot heat to your lower stomach, Midoriya swallowed, his Adam’s apple dipping. “Right,” he said, voice rasping, “I’ll get on it.”

“I look forward to it,” you said, smiling, feeling excited about the soulmate situation for the first time since you breathed in that dust, “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me more about your soft cheeses?”

***

Midoriya was gone by the time you got back to the apartment, and since you didn’t go on patrol until evening, you spent the time unpacking your things. Since yesterday, he’s stuck post-it notes on drawers and cabinets to label their contents, easing the process.

Infuriatingly, you found Dango sleeping on his bed, as if it had been her space her entire life. You crawled onto the bed next to her, holding out your hand for her to sniff.

While she walked in circles before curling in a ball next to you, you glanced over his jam-packed bookshelves and bulletin boards (plural, with a few pieces of yarn connecting tacks across boards) and settled on his bedside table, where, in front of a framed, blood-splattered, All Might trading card sat an empty mug, still smelling of sweetened oolong tea. Cute. You got out your phone to snap a quick picture of Dango and then opened your texts.

YOU

hey midoriya

YOU

i know another thing we can work on

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱

I remember. We’ll work out a way to be completely unconscious instead of visiting our dreamland

YOU

not that one. adding another task

YOU

learn how to make frappes. and then how to make them in fantasy setting

YOU

all versions of shinsou deserve a big fuck-off drink

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱

Most likely unnecessary to re-create the process exactly. Don’t you think we could adapt part of your tea ceremony magic for coffee?

YOU

y’know. i hadn’t considered.

***

When your eyes finally focused, Midoriya’s face had the closest thing to fear you’ve ever seen on him, tapping your cheeks to get you to stay conscious, and when you violently shuddered and coughed up seawater, relief passed over him.

It’s cold. It’s so fucking cold; with no explanation, an ice storm swept over the coastline as your party was packing up camp, and with the chilling winds and grey overcast came the fiery fury of a dragon forced to fly south. Tucking away his knitting needles, Monoma had been in the middle of proposing the storm might be a spell to drive the dragon out of a settlement when the writhing, fervent thing had spotted your camp and had dived towards you.

The dragon’s wings beat the frigid winds down on you, your clothes still damp from your trips into the spirit realm, shocking you so hard that you only caught flashes of its wreckage: you didn’t know how Monoma, Touya, and Shinsou vanished one by one into thin air with each swipe of its tail, but its front claws closed around you as it leapt into the sky again, flying out over the ocean, where it dropped you into slushing water almost half a kilometre out.

And Midoriya—he must have swum out to retrieve you, dripping and panting over you on the shore as he turned back towards the remnants of camp, and you, tired and freezing enough to let him move you into a water-eroded cave farther down the beach as the wind picked up, could hardly feel guilty for not helping him build a fire for how hard your head spun.

“If we’re separated from the group, unknown how to recover them, then—if we continue the plan to return to the Gauntlet, we might run into them eventually,” he was muttering as he threw logs on the fire, “Town’s three kilometres away, but I don’t think we’re in any condition to travel. Once she warms up—” Midoriya scrambled towards you, curled up and shivering on a thrown-together pallet on the other side of the fire, and he patted your cheek again. “Hey, hey, please, don’t fall asleep yet. I know you’re tired. It’s gonna be fine. But stay with me for a few more minutes, please?”

“I’m fi—fine,” you said, tongue numb enough to trip up your words.

Midoriya grimaced. “No, you’re not. Forgive me,” he said, prodding you to sit up and slipping your soaked shirt over your head, and he rested your forehead on his shoulder before setting to work unlacing your corset.

“What, f—fuck,” you said, unable to do much else besides continue to shiver, “This mah—must by a spe—special kind of cold.”

“Considering it’s most likely magic-induced, I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Midoriya, deft fingers already halfway done with the ties, “This is the third night in a row you’ve gotten cold and wet, so I’m afraid this may be the final straw to your getting hypothermia.”

“Hah—how come you’re not too affected by it?”

“I used to be. When I first started dreaming, I woke up in the northern lands. This body has since gotten used to this level of cold. I spent a full month helping one of the towns with a burrowing dragon. Tends to be a problem up there.”

“Resourcefu—ful bitch,” you said, taking deeper, sloppier breaths now that he removed your corset, the chill spreading across your chest. You wrapped an arm over your boobs once he lay you down (your undershirt still covered them, but it was nearly transparent with dampness), yelping at his first tug to take off your trousers.

“Relax. I’m not trying anything. The quickest way we’ll get you warm is if we share skin-to-skin contact,” said Midoriya, and he sat back on his heels. “Why don’t you take off your pants yourself, then? I’ll hang them by the fire.”

Nodding, you fumbled with numb fingers to unfasten your pants, and it was only after a few minutes of struggling to get the wet-clingy things off that you realised he’d stripped down to his smallclothes, too concentrated on hanging drenched clothes above the fire to be abashed at his nakedness. You tossed your pants towards him and ducked under a blanket, where your undershirt kept you icy, regardless.

“I’m thinking that after we check you into an inn in town, I’ll come back to comb over the beach to see if I can scavenge anything related to the dragon itself or to the rest of our party. If I find something, we could take it to the same diviner who tracked the soul altar through All Might’s crystal, and we’d be able to reunite through—ah.” Midoriya was cut off by another piece of wet clothing slung at him, and he peeled it away from his face, scrunching when he noted how you tucked the blanket more closely around you. “But I suppose that’s a conversation for later,” he said, nervously chuckling (dimples and creases in his cheeks highlighted in the flickering light) and draping your undershirt over the flames.

Though hazy, you appreciated how Midoriya tried to delay it, how he busied himself with securing the cavemouth, scooting your pallet closer to face the fire, and hooking Monoma’s banged-up kettle nearby, before lifting your blankets (you hissed at the swash of cold air down your bare back) and crawling in behind you.

Immediately, he’s got his mouth against the crown of your head, each hard plane and muscle ridge down his fire-touched chest pressed against your skin. He’s being so respectful in how his hips cradled your own, sharing the warmth without touching, so when one of his large hands grazed your waist, you took it, sliding your hand down to his to guide his arm fully around you and closing them in a fist underneath your boobs.

“Be—better,” you said, firelight still bright through closed eyelids, “Thank you.”

Midoriya huffed into your hair. “You’re surprisingly accepting of this.”

You hunched in towards the fire slightly (you swore your tits were going to freeze off). “We both took the sa—same safety courses. I know this is the logical course of action.”

“You sound like Aizawa-sensei,” said Midoriya, humming.

“Remember wh—when he taught gave that lecture? Brought in Kayama-sen—sensei to discuss human anatomy. Said that we’d probably never run into something like this.”

“Mm, I suspect it’s a contributing factor that I breathed in a second dose of Tainted Love’s quirk.” Midoriya nudged the back of your head for you to lift it, and he slid his folded arm underneath you to use as a pillow. “Wouldn’t you say the cliches extend to the dreams, based on this?”

“Fantastic,” you said, a full-bodied shiver sweeping through you, prompting a cough.

“No, no, you’re okay; you’re fine,” said Midoriya, rubbing over the goosebumps on your upper arm, “Once you’re warm enough, we’ll head into town. Wasn’t there a restaurant Monoma wanted to try? Do you want to go there?”

“I just wanna bathe and get in a real bed,” you said with a whimper, tugging the blankets up to your chin, “I don’t want to be siiiiiiick. We won’t be able to start tracking the others until I’m well.”

“We’ve been travelling with purpose for a while. It might be good to have a break, and you needn’t worry,” said Midoriya, replacing his arm around your waist, this time laying his hand flat on your stomach, right atop your diaphragm, keeping track of how hard you breathed, “I’ll take care of you.”

You sniffled, licking your dry lips. “Oh, fuck off.”

You flinched as the fire crackled, and Midoriya shushed you again and curled himself around you, edging a careful knee between your legs and drawing you close enough for your hips to touch. Scoffing, you realised there’d been a reason he’d kept a distance.

“Sorry! Sorry,” he said hastily, backing his hips a little, “I was—I just got to thinking about your back, and how soft it is, and then you mentioned wanting a bath, and you said it with the most glorious little whine to your voice—”

“You’re the reason they make dress codes so strict,” you said, shooting a glare over your shoulder.

“I think the tea’s boiling,” said Midoriya, and when he crawled out of the blankets, you made a pathetic noise at the back of your throat (the corner of his mouth twitched). But he was behind you again in a couple of minutes, arm curving over you to set your cream-coloured enamel mug in front of you on the pallet.

Once you’d drunk most of it, not tasting it but enjoying its heat, eyes growing heavier by the second, Midoriya spoke. “All right. I feel a lot better knowing your insides are warming up, too. You don’t have to try to stay awake anymore.”

You paused, waiting for a sneeze to come, but it died before you could. “But barely half of the night has passed. I’ll wake up back home and not be able to go back to sleep, because I’m woozy here.”

“Then stay awake. Feel free to rummage about the apartment, unpack, or anything. Watch a movie. We’ll get to work on finding a way to sleep dreamlessly soon.”

You set your mug aside, sapped of the strength to hold it up. “Should I wake you?”

“I don’t think so,” said Midoriya, rubbing your arm again before wrapping his over you, shifting his knee between your legs, “I need to take care of you here. Do you mind if—hm. It’d be difficult to move you and the supplies the three kilometres into town. I really think we should get you to town as soon as possible, though. Would you object to my moving you in your sleep, or would you prefer we stay here until tomorrow?”

“I don’t—don’t fucking care,” you said through a yawn, “I was just thinking. This dream shit seems more aligned with our real lives’ circadian rhythms, and stuff. Do you think if I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night here that I’d, like, faint in real life? It might happen, since we’re going to sleep during the day.”

“I’ve considered that,” said Midoriya, setting his cup next to yours with a clink on the stone floor, “and I don’t have any answers. S’pose we’ll find out.”

***

The next few months of your life were spent learning how to live under the soulmate bond. You’d unpacked completely, your belongings mixing with his and finding their homes in his flat. Gotten used to routines and grocery preferences. Still struggling to remember where he kept his measuring cups.

Midoriya claimed the soulmate pain had gone away, but sometimes, you caught him just standing there, clutching his shirt over his heart, expression strained but focused on nothing at all. He’d always brighten when he noticed you watching.

(One night, you’d stayed up later than Midoriya because you’d had a bit of a fight; he’d had Mirio, Nejire, and Amajiki over without telling you first, and you’d needed the quiet and space to work on a complicated collab proposal—and it kept you up during most of the night. He’d gone to bed angry, and you’d fumed over your laptop, when some sort of tinny whine broke the silence of the apartment. You’d taken off your headphones to check, and the sound kept coming.

You’d cracked open the door to Midoriya’s bedroom, where he’d been restlessly tossed in his sleep, bedsheets twisted around his waist and falling onto the floor, muscles strained even then, face screwed up, creases between his eyebrows—whining, wincing, clenching teeth together. It’s a sound you didn’t want to hear again. You’d gotten closer, wincing yourself as you watched sweat beading down his cheek, only to slide off onto his wet pillowcase. His shirt was soaked through, and he’d gone all pale.

You’d almost wished he were having a sex dream, because then you wouldn’t have to feel sorry for him. But no, God, this was happening because you were mad at him, because you’d fought, rejecting him somehow, and for such a tiny, little thing.

You’d pressed the back of your hand to his forehead to check his temperature, and Midoriya immediately stilled, breathing returning to normal.

If he’d noticed, he hadn’t said anything the following morning.

[And you? You weren’t experiencing any soulmate pain at all.])

Dango had grown to like Midoriya immensely, which baffled you until you’d discovered how much scrambled egg he gave her every morning as her cat tax—she took it out of his hand with such delicacy.

Right now, she lay on your lap while you scrolled through your phone on the couch. You’d made yourself a lurker account to follow people thirsting after Midoriya to see how other people were attracted to him—what made him appealing to them and how they talked about it. With his involvement with Uraraka’s miniseries picking up, on top of his already exhaustive schedule, you were seeing less and less of him in reality and had to rely on your dreams to spend time with him, so you visited these people’s accounts also as a way to check in on his public self.

[image description: a dishevelled Pro-Hero Deku, covered in soot from an explosion from fellow Pro-Hero Dynamight, lands a kick into the jaw of an 80-meter snake controlled by villain Viper. His boot sinks into its flesh in the moment before the force of the kick makes the snake burst. His hero costume is torn so that he has neither sleeves nor his hood. One of his gloves is missing, and his hair is wilder and curlier than usual.]

chargenut: uuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh hi!!!!!

sakuraraka: i wanna play with his hair i wanna tackle him to the ground

momo-closet: *fumbles for inhaler* very normal abt this. need him carnally need every man who can stomp something to death with a single move. Also please look at his ASS and how ROUND it is. desperately need to smack it but my hand would bounce off into the stratosphere

alienkawa: my womb ouch

dickuprint: god his curls are SO fuckgn sexy here. his current undercut and styled hair must be a strategic move by his PR team to nerf his perfect fucking looks bc otherwise he’d be too pretty for anyone to get anything done. undercut also sexy tho

nonbinarysalmon: he………………………

Neither you nor he had found a way to sleep without dreams yet. Well—actually, you’ve both discovered that if you get hit hard enough that you pass out, then you won’t dream, but you can’t rely on giving yourself a concussion every once in a while.

You’ve consulted Ito about it, purely for the soulmate basis. She’s never known dream-sharing soulmates to not share their dreams or go to the same place. After Ito, you moved onto sleep specialists and a few medications, but nothing worked—though you got managed to procure some fancy sleep aids for Aizawa out of it.

You and Midoriya would have to figure out this one yourselves, if it were even possible.

[image description: a gifset of Pro-Hero Deku on Pro-Hero Uwabami’s talk show. In the first gif, Deku blinks in mild shock at Uwabami’s insult towards Pro-Hero Shouto. In the second gif, Deku starts to laugh softly, tongue running over his lower lip, as anger visibly shines in his eyes.]

purprevbabey: incredible how fast my legs spread when he gets mad like that

dickuprint: okay but like. you can SEE how much control he has. how he’s got the power in the situation. and he knows he could rip her to shreds for that comment but he’s reigning it in. godddddddddddddddddd men who laugh when they’re pissed pls get mad at meeeee

oldfashionedkitten: You just know he can Detroit Smash on my Full Cowl until I Shoot Style.

sakuraraka: oh what a piece of work is man 👅

midori-world: SLUT

dailydeku: what crime must I commit to get him to look at me like that??? can you IMAGINE being on the receiving end of that look and not being completely drenched. considering arson. perhaps public nudity. his bedroom is public right

You and Midoriya had spent ages tracking the dragon, and you’d found it burrowing underneath yet another village trying to attack it. After halting the townspeople’s weapons, you and Midoriya had crept into its burrow, inelegant in the haste it was dug, and discovered the dragon thrashing and rolling around in the dirt.

You’d started your tea ceremony to bind the dragon to the space, and the dragon had stopped convulsing to stare at the floating teaware and conjured table. It’d seemed to understand what Midoriya said to it, and when it shuddered, you’d noted, it was all in effort to get something off its tail: a slightly luminescent, red band that, now that you were close enough, was clearly not part of the dragon’s amber scales. It had been tagged.

You’d offered to remove it, and the dragon had shifted its attention to you entirely, thumping its tail in front of your tea table. It had gotten frustrated while you and Midoriya discussed the tag’s perfect, unbroken seal, and to your horror, the dragon seethed and erupt into flames, out of whose ashes crawled a very naked Bakugou. You’d already been overwhelmed by his tits and scarred muscles to the sounds of Midoriya’s babbling on shapeshifters when Bakugou climbed onto your tea table and thrust his ass towards your face—you’d scrambled backwards out of shock. But he’d settled into a kneel, hissing over his shoulder at you, while you’d noted the tag had been sealed as a patch on the small of his back, which, so long as you wore down the holding spell, could be removed.

Bakugou had been incapable of human speech himself but nodded and grunted as you and Midoriya chipped away at the tag’s seal, and once you’d peeled it off, the underside of the patch revealed its owner: Todoroki Natsuo, who had enchanted the tag to teleport any significant source of magic back to the Todoroki castle. Midoriya had fortified this, saying that northern dragons were often used to collect kneilanth root and butter knappe, which grew too deeply underground for humans to safely dig for them.

And so, Bakugou had come with you all the way to rescue your friends from Todoroki castle, from which you’d been banned all those years ago for bad poetry.

(Bakugou had been doing quite well as a human, actually. Language was still an issue, mostly because his human mouth had to adjust to vocalising the sounds, and he tended to dislike the feeling of fabric against his skin. But he liked watching your magic and eating meat with the bones removed, and he enjoyed listening to stories. This Bakugou was charmingly, openly affectionate in his own gruff way, hovering near your side when outsiders crossed your path, taking tea towels for his nest/bedroll, and plopping your hand in his hair once camp was set up in the evening.

You tried not to think about what it could mean for your reality’s Bakugou.)

Foiled in your infiltration to Todoroki castle, you’d been captured and separated, and you and Midoriya were eating breakfast in his apartment to discuss your next move.

“I’m on the east side of the castle’s dungeon, in one of the cells on the first floor underground,” you said, setting your drawing of the castle layout (to the best of your memory) aside to sort through the puzzle’s edge pieces, “My other life’s memories tell me that I visited briefly before, because Shinsou’s family works in and out of there. I haven’t seen any of the Shinsous, though. I’ve only been handled by strangers. Where are you?”

“I must not be in a dungeon, then. There’s a window letting in sunlight, so I must not be underground.” Midoriya pinched his lower lip and frowned at two, similarly coloured puzzle pieces. “But they’ve tied me up. You’ll have to find something to cut the rope with, if you break out first.”

“Interesting,” you said, and you reached for your mug, “They didn’t bother to restrain me. They must not think I’m a threat, but you must look it.”

“Do you need a refill? I was about to get more,” said Midoriya, standing, his hand outstretched as he leant over the table, tossing his own empty mug to himself.

You squinted into your mug, the dregs of yet another failed, homemade frappe at the bottom. “I think I’m coffee-ed out for the day. Just water, please?”

“Right. If you’ll allow me a moment,” said Midoriya, holding both mugs in one hand (your brain short-circuited for a moment. Large. Large hands) as he crossed to the refrigerator. “But it’s the Todorokis’ castle. We know at least Endeavor and Natsuo are there because of Bakugou’s tag, and even if they are present, I don’t know Fuyumi or their mother well enough to rely on them. And Shouto isn’t there to help us.”

“I doubt the crown prince would help out his former jester,” you said, latching two pieces together, “and I doubt we could find Shouto if the whole kingdom hasn’t found him after searching for a year.”

“Is that a challenge?” His smile was audible over the gentle slosh of liquid. “Then that should be our next quest after we find the rest of our party.”

“Done. We’ll find Shouto next.” You accepted your mug once Midoriya tapped the back of your shoulder with it, and he plopped into his seat across from you with a heavy sigh. Your eyes glazed over a little when a frustrated Midoriya pulled reading glasses out of his breast pocket and slid them on. “Oh,” you said, taken aback.

He shot you a grin before bending back over the puzzle, hair flopping onto his forehead. “Don’t let it slip that the number-one hero needs peepers, all right?”

“Peepers,” you said, clasping a hand over your heart, “Who are you?”

Midoriya clicked his tongue and tried to fit another piece.

Shaking your head, you continued. “I think the move here is to appeal to the guards who’ve handled me so far, to try to see if I can talk to any of Shinsou’s family to get out. If not,” you said, taking a deep breath, “I can try soulwalking. The dungeons are charmed to stop magic, but I don’t know if they’d account for soul magic, since it’s so rare. I can try getting a key that way.”

“Key,” said Midoriya, holding up a finger and then a second, “And knife.”

“Yeah. You’re tied up. You’re tied…up,” you said, propping your chin on your fist, “Gracious. Has anyone ever managed to tie you up before?”

His eyes flickered over to you, glinting. “Not in any way I didn’t intend.”

“I—hm,” you said, having to look away and plucking at your shirt to cool yourself down, “I meant. I meant if you’d ever been—captured. For work. But I guess that sort of thing doesn’t happen to you, does it?” But if he wanted to take it that direction, you’ll play. “Tied up how? You uncomfortable?”

Midoriya smiled more with his eyes than his mouth, though he kept them on the puzzle. “It’s not my first time on my knees,” he said, fitting another piece together, “but I’ll admit the stone is making them ache.”

Fuck, how is anyone supposed to maintain a conversation with this man? “I hope they gagged you with how clever that mouth is,” you said on impulse, smoothing down the front of your shirt and frowning once you’d realised what you’d said.

“With a bit,” he said, drawing a line across his lips, “They confiscated my shirt when they checked my skin for runes and bound my arms behind my back, looping the ropes here—” Midoriya pulled up his sleeve to trace his finger on his upper arm over the rising swell of his bicep. “Here—” He did the same below the muscle, flexing it as he kept his gaze on the puzzle. “And here.” He straightened his posture to drag his finger diagonally over his collarbone, all the way up to where his neck met his shoulder.

You’re going to kill him. You’re going to pluck out each of his tendons to weave them into a basket. You’re going to bite down as hard as you can into that bicep until you can spit it out.

“Yeah, sure, man,” you said eventually, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms, “Don’t expect me to walk into your dungeon, pussy out, or anything, even if you’re already kneeling. If you could concentrate, please. We need to come up with something before tonight.”

Nodding, Midoriya covered his yawn and stood, stretching his arms above his head with a quiet groan (and you…noted the sliver of hard stomach when his shirt rose). “I’ll take my chances,” he said, rolling his broad shoulders back, taking a moment to hold his elbow for the extra strain. “I know you’ll be able to pull it off, whatever we decide, and I’ll do more thinking during work today. I need to head out. I’m behind on the last performance evaluations for this round of interns, and I’m supposed to be taking them all out for interim evals today.”

“Good fucking luck.” You corralled the loose puzzle pieces into one corner of the kitchen table as Midoriya put mugs in the dishwasher.

“Thanks.” He tossed in a soap pod. “What time will you be home today?”

“Uh, give me a sec,” you said, thinking and moving to put things back in the refrigerator, “I…oof, late. Late. I stay super late today, because I’m covering for Jirou. She has a gig tonight. Yeah, I have my lunch break around fucking 3:30, and then I work until two in the morning.”

Midoriya winced, nose wrinkling. “Let me meet you for lunch, then. I’ll see if I can swing by after that, too, to bring you something then.”

“Oh. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to,” said Midoriya, and for barely a full second, he shot you the most devastatingly sincere smile you’ve ever seen in your life: boyish and endearing and a bit like distilled sunshine, all of his earnest devotion concentrated and aimed at you before simply switching it off as he looked away and removed his glasses, seemingly unaware of how very frantically your heart was banging about in your chest.

Once he was out the door, you grabbed your phone to scroll through the Midoriya thirst accounts, desperate for validation that someone else was thinking of him in that way.

[video description: a Deku fancam set to MARINA’s “Primadonna.” Clips from interviews, paparazzi, photo shoots, and social media flash in time to the beat, mostly focusing on the way a smiling Deku often rubs his lower lip with his index and middle fingers while he thinks.]

blueberrybakugou: fist me. who said that

chargenut: I just want. If I could just. Like for five minutes. Just.

igneousbastard: Every Deku picture is mind-bogglingly vogue. He’s the ultimate do I wanna be him or fuck him. Keep it coming king 👑 👑 👑

sakuraraka: he just looks like he’d be so nice to hold hands with. well that and to **** **** * *** ******** *** **** ** ******* ********* but i digress

kirishimashairdye: bites him bites him bites him bites him grabs his beautiful face and kisses it all over tweaks his nipples unzips his pants and pulls out his c—* GUNSHOTS *

kurapikas-ballandchain: whatever u say babygirl 💖

mmmmmidoriya: god i am so jealous of his soulmate. gets to shove her head between his thighs every day

dickuprint: @mmmmmidoriya you’ve seen who it is, right??? i am manifesting they make out in public so that we can see what deku does with his tongue then 👀 guess i’ll have to live vicariously through her for the rest of my LIFE.

mmmmmidoriya: @dickuprint i wish i had been hit by that quirk bc having a soulmate would fix me and every problem that ever existed

You lay back on the couch, holding your phone above your head and feeling unbearably fond of these unhinged people you’ve never met. Almost a shame that no one in your life could talk to you about Midoriya that way—except, perhaps, Uraraka, and she’s moved on. Still. Somehow it was comforting that all of these people, even though they’d never been the direct victim of a Midoriya smile, could feel so strongly for him. Their vehemence was infectious, and for the first time in three years, an invitation to adore Midoriya bloomed in your chest. So, you allowed yourself to open up your old feelings for him and made your first post.

assortedsoftcheeses: have we considered how sexy midoriya would be in reading glasses???? willing to commission fanart btw.

***

Silhouetted by the hallway light, Midoriya rapped his knuckles on your doorframe. “May I come in?”

“God, fuck,” you said, wiping at your nose, “Sure.”

House slippers scuffing on carpet, Midoriya approached cautiously while you smeared your tears over your face with your blanket, and he knelt by your bedside, looking up at you. He didn’t ask what was wrong. Simply waited. Put his hand next to yours, should you want it.

“I’m so fucked up about Shinsou in particular. He’s my best fucking friend and has always, always been there for me. Always a source of comfort.” You sat up in bed, adjusting the straps of your tank top. “I feel guilty for not being able to love him like he deserves. I do love him, y’know? But I can’t—I don’t have any impulse to love him romantically. He’s just—very important to me. I don’t want him out of my life because of our soulmate bond.”

Midoriya’s pinkie nudged yours. “He doesn’t have to be. So, let’s make time for you to spend with him.”

You balked, taken aback. “You’d be okay with that? You wouldn’t get jealous?”

Midoriya smiled gently, creases in his face lit by lamplight. “Sweetheart, I can’t get jealous of Shinsou; he’s your best friend. And, moreover, he’s probably still closer to you than I. You’re allowed to have space away from me, y’know?” He inched his hand underneath yours, his fingers curling upwards into yours, and he traced circles into your palm with a light graze of his middle finger—and that light touch shot a spark through you, more sensitive to his calloused skin than your weighted blanket or your too-soft pillow or Dango’s heat coming through the comforter from where she loafed on your feet. “In fact,” he continued, as if he hadn’t casually skyrocketed you from this plane of reality and back, “I’ve been considering a a project that Shinsou and you may fit perfectly into.”

And so Midoriya, Shinsou, and you coordinated your schedules to all head over to U.A., to the Aizawa hall, down to room 310, all the way at the end. Midoriya raised his hand to knock as you shot a nervous glance at Shinsou.

(Shinsou and you had a very specific dynamic when you hung out together, but adding Midoriya enhanced it in a way you couldn’t articulate. Nothing Shinsou normally did was sacrificed, but there was just something in how now there was someone to stand so closely to you that you felt his body heat, to explain in gratuitous detail his bulky camera equipment for the later birdwatching, to tease you to repeat your compliments towards him because he wanted you to admit it—it was different, yes, than just hanging out with Shinsou, whom you never had to try to impress, but something made you incredibly aware of Midoriya’s stupid, unstyled hair that was curlier than usual and his gesturing with an old, bulky, silver watch that he claimed was his father’s—something that added a safe sliver of excitement.)

“It’s unlocked,” called a voice that only had traces of his old rasp, and in you stepped to Shimura Tenko’s living space: summer-warm and cluttered in a purposeful way, with the wide windows propped open so that the white curtains wafted with the breeze, a mirror with fan mail from hero work taped to its glass, a skateboard mounted to the wall, a strategically planned gaming desk, and his red shoes next to Touya’s boots and Eri’s sandals by the door.

Midoriya absentmindedly helped you take off your jacket to hang it on the coatrack while you toed off your shoes, and you were smiling: Tenko and Eri sat across from each other on the couch, both sketching an angle of a still life scene (of a reflective water bottle, an overflowing bowl of shining stones, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figure, and a morning glory picked from the dorm flower bed) on a tiny table dragged to the middle of the rug. Todoroki Touya was sprawled out on Tenko’s bed, head dangling off the side and squinting as he read volume seven of something called GINSENG TEA X LUSTFUL BALLSACK.

“Hey, Izuku,” said Tenko, glancing one final time at the still life and his drawing before closing his sketchbook to stand. “You’re late.”

(God. It still shook you, whenever you thought about it, that the man who had been Shigaraki Tomura was doing well now, getting to act his age, getting to do hero work, getting to settle into comfort. Midoriya apparently visited him at least once a week and had gotten to know him well, and Shinsou had spent brief spurts of time with him when they both needed to be with Aizawa. Good for Tenko, of course, but you didn’t know how to talk to him. How do you talk to someone who changed the trajectory of the entire world?

But Midoriya brought you out of your head, because he was showing the same level of comfort with Tenko as he had outside with you and Shinsou, in how he warmly greeted these people and felt at home in this space. That brought down your nervousness to the same level as when you meet a friend’s friend for the first time.

[And a voice in the back of your head said that you didn’t need to try to get them to like you, because of course Tenko and Touya would like you. You’re their soulmate in another timeline.])

“Traffic was bad. It’s good to see you,” Midoriya replied, hand sliding to the small of your back, grounding you, even though the touch was unfamiliar. “Tenko, Touya—you know Shinsou, but I don’t believe you’ve met my soulmate yet?” Masterful how he’s calming you down and showing that he’s got everything under control in the same gesture. Competent bastard.

Midoriya nudged you towards Tenko as you exchanged names—unnecessary, really, since both of you knew who the other was—and waves of sorrow, pity, and affection washed over you as you looked him over: tired, with better posture, his hair swept out of his face—just some guy—and you fought the urge to hug him. And bolstered by Midoriya’s calming touch on your lower back, you instead did something Tenko might appreciate more: you held out your hand.

Something strange visibly passed through Tenko, his red eyes lighting the fuck up, and he clasped your hand, shaking it. “You’re bold.” You could’ve sworn he was suppressing a smile as he glanced from you to Midoriya. “Hope you stick around.”

“Deku,” said Eri from the couch, titling her head backwards over its arm to speak towards you, “Tell Tenko he should come to my watercolour class with me.”

“He can do what he wants,” said Midoriya, as Shinsou stepped aside to enquire Touya after the manga he was reading. “What’s so special about this class?”

“Oh, come on, Deku. It’d only be one time,” Eri said as Midoriya ruffled her hair, careful of her long, curving horn, “Tenko’s been saying how hard it is to draw reflective surfaces, and there’s gonna be a whole class session on them!”

Tenko shook his head. “I can’t paint.”

“You did that great painting with coffee of a boat that one time,” said Eri, tapping her pencil against her sketchbook.

“I couldn’t drink the coffee; I had to do something with it,” said Tenko, “I wasn’t trying to paint for real.” He sighed, shoulders heaving, and he turned back to you. “You want tea, or something? A snack?”

A few minutes later, the five of you sat together on the rug (Eri went downstairs), clutching mugs of decaf orange tea with a plate of grocery-store-bakery shortbread in the middle, and you began to plan what sort of Dungeons and Dragons game you all wanted to play.

“I may have some ideas for adventures in a fantasy setting,” said Midoriya with a completely straight face. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, and you were about to thump his chest when his arm came to rest behind you on the couch cushions; you found yourself swallowing at the acute awareness of the heat his defined bicep transferred to the back of your head.

(Weird. Usually, Shinsou was the person in a group hangout that you’d pay attention to the most, because you’d catch each other’s eye to make jokes, but somehow—somehow—you hated that you had to keep depending on that word—somehow, you wanted to pay the most attention to Midoriya, because you didn’t know what he’ll do next.)

Throughout all of the ideas for a homebrew campaign, the goosebumps on the back of your neck never settled. Midoriya doesn’t even have his undivided attention on you; he’s just talking to friends with enthusiasm and those expressive hands, silver watch clinking, and it’s exciting just to watch him. When he’s not looking at you, it’s like you can see him better—how he’s a good leader, a good friend, and a good, good man.

(And then, that tiny, evil voice in your mind whispered that it’s because when Midoriya looks at you, he looks with so much want that it’s blinding. That when he looks at you, his light blocks out everything else.)

***

You’ve had enough of the ocean. Enough of the heat. Sweating, you pulled the wide brim of your sunhat down over your face and once again moved your folding chair farther into the shade, its chair legs scuffing the deck. No one is going to persuade you to do any heavy lifting today; you’d melt.

Monoma felt the same, after getting a terrible sunburn, so he kept to whatever shadows the ship could offer, and he was likely below deck, reading his little detective novels—hopefully in silence, since Shinsou had announced he’d be taking a nap about an hour ago. You’d join them, but for some reason, seeing the water itself distracted you from the frequency at which the boat rocked and kept your stomach from turning.

So, you kept to the main deck, which allowed you to watch all of Endeavor’s—sorry, King Todoroki’s crewmen as they kept the ship running. Always strange, but you supposed that whom you knew as pro hero Burnin’ made for a fine ship captain. You respected how she didn’t defer to any of your party, especially Touya, even though she and the crew were yours to use for the mission to find Shouto.

Funny how only a month ago you’d been an enemy of the king, and now he’s sent some of his most trusted personnel with you with his blessing. Your attempt to break out of the dungeons had failed—well, you had successfully escaped, but once you’d located Midoriya, you’d run into a few problems: he’d been tied up in an infuriatingly sexy way, just as he’d described, and they’d since removed his trousers as well as his shirt. Cutting him free had taken time, since you’d only been able to commandeer a dull blade, and to slice the knots on either side of his neck, you’d had to press your boobs near Midoriya’s face. He’d wasted so much time apologising for his subsequent erection that the guards had caught up with you.

It had gone down, at least, by the time they’d dragged you to Touya’s childhood sitting room, still as luxurious and well-kept as when he’d first left, where the rest of your friends had been at a tea party, arguing over what little cheesecake was the best. A cup of tea had been shoved into your hands, and across the table, you’d caught Touya’s mocking gesture of putting his pinkie up while he’d sipped at his own tea.

The Todorokis had been pleased to see Touya again and had welcomed him and the rest of your party into the castle eagerly (you say the Todorokis: you mean Rei, Fuyumi, and Natsuo who opened the castle to you. Enji, it’d turned out, had more or less become a king in name only during an illness that confined him to his bedroom, leaving the actual governing of the kingdom to Rei. Apparently, Enji had seemed glad when he’d heard Touya had returned, but he'd merely turned over in bed to continue to read after nodding at the news). You and Midoriya had been issued a pardon once Touya had informed his family that you were his friends, and for almost a month, you’d camped out in the castle and explored the town. Thrilling, really, to rest in a place with clean beds and keen to provide multiple changes of clothes. Everyone had gotten to request what was for dinner a couple of times, which was lovely—adorable, really, the way Touya sighed happily into a bowl of soba made the same way as when he’d been eight years old.

But Touya had claimed he couldn’t take the familial doting forever—though you figured it might be pressure to take the crown soon—and he’d took your idea for an easy way out of the castle: why doesn’t your party go search for Shouto?

And thus the ship from Endeavor’s navy, staffed with his combat personnel who hadn’t had much to do in peacetime. You were off towards a partially mapped archipelago from which rumours of a mage who could wield both fire and ice came.

Heavy footsteps clonking down the stairs to the quarterdeck shattered your concentration on the deep, azure waves, and you’d hardly turned to look before Bakugou plopped directly onto the deck next to you, crossing his legs and leaning against your chair.

Bakugou reached for your hand and dropped it onto his head. “Scratch.”

You laughed through your nose. “Fine,” you said, curling your fingers into his hair for the first time that day—oof, his spikes were more pliant because he’d been sweating so hard. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Pouting, Bakugou huffed, and you offered a drink from your canteen to encourage him to speak. “Couldn’t beat Izuku and Touya to the crow’s nest,” he said after taking a swig, raising his head towards your touch, “Bein’ up that high when I’m not in dragon form—I don’t like it. Makes my head hurt.”

Now that you tilted the brim of your hat backwards, you could make out two figures skibbling around the rigging towards the top of the tallest of the ship’s three masts. You can’t discern who’s who, but one of them swipes at the other, who barks a laugh, and it’s good to see the both of them playing. They deserve it.

“I’m sorry that’s happening to you, Bakugou,” you said, swearing that he let out a sort of purr when you scratched near the base of his neck, “Would it help to be a dragon again? Fly behind us for a while? I can ask the captain.”

Bakugou shook his head, and then he strained his neck to rest his chin on your thigh. “I shouldn’t shift into a dragon until we’re near land. Shifting back into human form would leave us with the fiery, dragon carcass, and I don’t wanna burn down the ship with it.”

“That would put a damper on our journey,” you said, “I haven’t considered: do all shapeshifters physically leave their magical bodies behind when they turn back into a human? What do you normally do with your…”

You narrowed your eyes at the crow’s nest at someone’s shout. It’s too bright out today, under this perfectly clear, blue sky, and you’re blinded when you look their way. You held up a hand to shield your gaze from the sun as a cacophony of voices resounded across deck, able to make out before you did that one of them was falling from the nest, caught in a snapped section of rigging. In the moment Bakugou leapt to his feet and helped you up, a strident, clean crack made your stomach drop.

Both of you raced over to the small crowd of crewmen already lowering a grimacing Midoriya to the deck, hanging by the ankle caught in the rigging, and he winced, inhaling sharply, at the first touch from the medic.

“I’m fine,” said Midoriya, maintaining a shaky smile and holding up a hand to you, which you grasped once you dropped to your knees.

“No, you’re—you’re bleeding out, you asshole,” you said, gripping his hand harder than you needed to, “Drop the All Might grin.”

“I’m har—hardly bleeding out,” he said, but he relaxed into a closed-mouth smile as the medic cleaned the deep cut with her water magic, with Bakugou hounding her with questions on her method the entire time.

“What happened?” You scooted out of the way of the crewman who’d fetched a medical kit. “I thought you and Touya were—”

“We were being reckless. I misstepped and sliced my leg on an errant nail, and I fell due to surprise and got caught in the rigging. It’s not Touya’s fault,” said Midoriya, raising his voice just as Touya reached the bottom of the mast, looking less agitated once he heard.

Touya stepped out of the way of the pooling blood, and after the medic confirmed with him what’d happened, she said, “Midoriya, your ankle is broken. Looks like it was snapped by the ropes. The cut doesn’t reach the bone, but it’s deep. It’s gonna need to be wrapped as tightly as possible over this splint so that this flap of skin doesn’t fall off and stop the bleeding. I can do a temp one, but we’re gonna have to dock somewhere to get some—”

“I think I can do that,” you said, realising it as you spoke, “With my binding ceremony, I should be able to bind his injury as tightly as it needs to be. Monoma could transfigure the bandages into something more permanent.”

The medic only took a second to hesitate before enlisting Bakugou to help carry Midoriya below deck. You ran ahead to grab your tea whisk, and you were already kneeling on the floor of Midoriya’s bunk when they brought him inside. Bakugou’s mouth twitched at all of the blood seeping out of the gauze on Midoriya’s leg, but the medic yanked him by the elbow back above deck to sterilise the area.

Midoriya panted from the blood loss, eyes fluttering as you began your ceremony. “I don’t know how long I can stay upright. I—hahh, is it hot in here to you?”

Miniature tea plants pushed through the top layers of skin on your forearm, growing to maturity at a rapid pace. “A little,” you said, glancing at his steadily moistening forehead, the first bead of sweat dripping down the curve of his cheekbone.

His breathing grew heavier as your magic sun-dried tealeaves and steamed them. Grimacing, Midoriya said, “Forgive me for this,” and started unlacing the front of his shirt.

Oh, his shirt is coming off? You tried to seem very interested in magically kneading, oxidising, and drying tealeaves, but Midoriya noticed how distracted you were, raised a brow, and, with an incredulous smirk, lifted his shirt to flash you his fucking nipple, perked up from the fabric rubbing against it.

“Oh, you like that, don’tcha?” Midoriya asked, not that he needed to: your teakettle boiled over so quickly because it matched the heat rising to your face. Grinning to himself, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it near his bag.

You channelled the centre of your binding magic into the bandages, taking in how much blood was seeping through the previous ones, how it might affect Midoriya for months if this doesn’t work out.

I hope this helps.

Commanding your magic to bind tightly around Midoriya’s wound, you redirected residuals automatically trickling into the teakettle back to the bandages. Midoriya must put a lot of trust in you, considering you’ve never used your magic in this exact way, but since it’s still a binding ceremony, the credits might just transfer.

“No need to be so nervous,” Midoriya was saying, slumping into the bed now that his shirt’s off, as if his tits weren’t just out there, “You’re still on guard with me. I’m waiting for you to be comfortable.”

“Y’know, the best way to stop residuals going into the tea is to have no tea to go into,” you said, ignoring him and pouring him a cup, which you shoved his way, “Drink up.”

While you prepared your own tea, Midoriya swallowed his like it was a shot, and he even screwed up his face and thumped his chest like it’d been alcohol. “Gracious,” he said, peeling his eyes open, “That does not go gently into the night.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, magic faltering slightly before renewing the channel binding his wounds. You took a sip from your teacup, but it was the same tea as always, so you were taken aback when he returned his empty teacup, smelling like bitter, medicinal residuals.

“Pour another cup for me,” said Midoriya, and both of you followed the arc of liquid into Midoriya’s teacup, resembling standard green tea. When he lifted it to his lips, he shook his head. “It’s the same medicine as before, but how?” His eyes lightened, corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “You poured yourself a normal cup of tea in between.”

“I think,” you said, in a small voice, staring into your own teacup and wondering at what more your magic was capable of, “I don’t know. I didn’t do anything differently. Aside from the bandages, but, y’know.”

“Hm,” said Midoriya, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, fingers curling into his wet bangs, “Would you mind getting my notebook out of my bag for me?”

“I shouldn’t move until the ceremony’s over,” you said, nodding towards the slowly-twining bandages, almost to his ankle.

“Right,” said Midoriya, tongue flicking over his lower lip, eyes shining, “I can wait. But the liquid in the teakettle physically changed materials, if in taste, rather than appearance, temperature, and texture, and it changed back for when you needed to drink it. Do you think there’s a subconscious element to your magic that adjusts itself for the person receiving the magic? Because it wasn’t even purposeful, because you’re trying to put all of your magic on my wound, but if it still manifested in the tea—”

(And as your gaze drifts upwards to Bakugou’s bunk, blankets draped over the side into Midoriya’s space, it hits you, the overall, cultural, social reason why it hasn’t been easy trying to love Midoriya, affecting not just you but nearly everyone who meets him: loving Midoriya is like loving the sun.

Because no one needs to think about loving the sun. It’s obvious how it’s the most important star in the sky, how it’s built into our everyday lives.

And so you don’t notice it until it’s paired with something else, that highlights, by contrast, the beauty of the sun. Put it with the moon in eclipse or the tilt of the Earth, and it’s suddenly an interesting thing to talk about, like how some people only discuss Midoriya in conjunction with Todoroki, or how his personality balances Bakugou’s, or how he expresses romance and sexuality in how he treats Uraraka. Talking about Midoriya by himself isn’t very interesting to a lot of people, because he seems to be the default good, and for some people, good is boring. Bringing in someone different downplays his apparent blandness.

You’re guilty of it. You’ve been musing over how he adds to the hangouts with Shinsou, how he works the room during DND sessions, how he’s part of a romantic unit only with Uraraka. How he fits into hero society. You haven’t been fair to Midoriya. You’ve never looked at him as just Izuku.)

“—then it comes down to desire, I figure, that changes it,” Midoriya was saying, and after taking a breath, he gestured towards his ankle. “Looks like the binding’s done.”

Breaking you from your thoughts, the strain of magic came to a halt as the final bandage looped closely around Midoriya’s ankle, sealing it. “Yeah,” you said, moving from your kneeling position to examine your work, “What was that about desire?”

“You wanted to heal me, yes? That desire probably drove elements in your ceremony to change, I’m guessing.”

His bandages were perfectly set, perfectly holding pressure. “I did wish really hard.” I hope this helps rattled in your head. “Feel any pain?”

“None at all. You did well. We can add this to your arsenal, I suppose—and you don’t have to get me my notebook,” said Midoriya, beaming up at you as you stood, the tea ceremony equipment evaporating. He caught your hand before you could leave, his touch delicate as he guided the palm of your hand to his lips. “I’ll remember,” he said, bright eyes holding you in place, “since it’s you.”

That settled it. You were going to chase the sun.

***

When the ship reached the archipelago, it didn’t take long to realise that it was protected by an invisible dome. As a dragon, Bakugou found a crevice near the top that he could slink through, so so long as Bakugou could carry it on his back, it could get to the islands.

In your first flight, Midoriya held you closely from behind, and he covered your eyes with his hand when you grew too nervous, claiming that your flustered expression was bad for his heart.

You found Shouto on the east side of the island, long-haired and tanned while net-fishing among stone columns that held up houses before a hurricane destroyed them.

“Hm,” Shouto was saying, coaxed into sitting around a freezing fire lit by Touya, using Monoma’s cast-iron spit to stab through his fish, “If I’m using my fire and ice magic enough for my father to track me, then perhaps I should learn another discipline.”

“God, no,” said Touya, giving a dismissive wave, “We were just told to find you, not bring you back. And we didn’t promise to say where you were, either.”

“You’re allowed to use your magic, regardless,” Midoriya said, “It’s your magic, not his.”

“Good,” said Shouto, nodding, “My companions do not wish to participate in society. I would prefer to stay with them.”

“How many of them are there?” Midoriya set his crutch against the rock he was sitting on and instead leaned more against you. “Your friends, I mean.”

You met them soon enough at dinner: Aizawa Shouta, who had crafted the dome around the archipelago (his magic could create the perfect conditions to sleep, including the cancellation of others’ obnoxious magic), and Shimura Tenko, who had to be pried away from the dragon body Bakugou had crawled out of (Tenko’s magic allowed him to talk to animals and know what is in their heart of hearts. He emphasised that this was vital, since cats lie to you).

You couldn’t force anything into your stomach for how sick you felt, and eventually you set your fork down to tap the back of Midoriya’s free hand, which he flipped over for you to hold, lacing your fingers together. At your morose silence, Midoriya made an excuse to the group about needing his leg rebound, and, leaning on both you and his crutch, he led you away from the fire on the shore and towards Shouto’s hut.

Shutting the bamboo door behind you, you helped ease Midoriya into a chair before pinching the bridge of your nose and speaking in an unsteady voice. “That’s everyone. All of my soulmates in one place. I don’t fucking get why they’ve kept popping up. Presumably we have everyone we know mirrored here, so why do they have to be the ones we spend time with?” you asked, beginning to pace in the tiny room.

Midoriya leant his crutch against the table, settling into his seat with stiffness, bamboo creaking under his weight. “Do you want to leave? Separate from the group?”

“No, I—” You sucked in through your teeth. “I hate that I have a sort of fucked-up harem. It doesn’t serve any purpose other than to fill me with guilt. I don’t know how to handle it, and I don’t want to handle it. I know that leaving everybody would also fill me with a different kind of guilt, so I know leaving isn’t the solution, but I still don’t know. I don’t know where to go or what to do or if I should tell them at all. These versions of our friends, anyway,” you said, running both hands backwards through your hair, “God, it’s too complicated. It’s too much to focus on that there’s no focus. I—” You spun on your heel to face him and had to cut yourself off: Midoriya was taking great pains to slide out of his chair, to kneel at the end of your path.

“No, what’re you—? Let me help you back up,” you said, rushing back towards him, but he refused your help.

Midoriya offered his hand upwards to you. “Isn’t it a relief, then,” he said, watching your fingertips graze his before sliding down into his palm, “that you know where you come home to?” His fingers curled into yours. “I can’t speak for everyone, of course, and I wouldn’t want to, so allow me to be selfish: I’m here. I plan to stay,” said Midoriya, so softly it was hard to hear him over the night wind, “I want you. No one coming into our lives is going to change that. You say there’s no focus, but you’ve been my sole focus for almost a year now. I can’t imagine I was satisfied with anything else. And I will admit, my dear, that it makes me burn with jealousy that you spend so much time looking away from me, even in well-intentioned worry. I want all of you.”

Squeezing your hand in his, Midoriya brought the fabric of your skirt to his mouth to kiss it, keeping eye contact. “Please. Please. All I am is yours. My heart is yours; these hands are yours; this cock is yours. All of me is yours. All you have to do is ask for it, and if you’re always looking away from me, you won’t. Please look at me. Please let me help you.” He dropped your skirt, his fingers grazing your hip as he shifted his weight off of his injured leg, and he held your hip to steady himself, never tearing his gaze away from you.

The number-one hero’s bulky figure was on his knees in front of you despite his bad leg, squeezing your hand like he’ll never let you go and pressing his face to the front of your dress.

“Tell me you’ll let me in. Tell me I’m the only one,” said Midoriya, nuzzling the spot where your thigh met your hip, “Tell me that only I’m allowed to keep you warm.”

The sun was once thought to be the centre of the universe. It’s time he became the centre of yours.

“Tell me that I’m not alone in this. That you can’t wait any longer,” he said, bright eyes watering without overflowing, and you looked directly into the sun.

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare @eunchaeluvr

[gd-dollopole]

Merlin needing to teach Arthur stuff when he comes back, but it’s funny.

Can you just imagine Merlin yelling at Arthur at his back because he can’t…

Ride a bike?

The king of Camelot flailing his limbs before falling ass deep into a ditch because he has no idea what to do on a bike.

What about cooking? Imagine the mess. Arthur failing at making an omelette.

Playing video games?

Arthur would obsess over Zelda, because Link is blonde and stupid and courageous and has a sword that he pulled out from a stone.

How to go shopping? Arthur would get lost in so many isles, the cashier would need to get on the microphone and call for Merlin, because,

“The King of Camelot needs Emrys at the cash register 2, please.”

Riding a car?

Even better. Merlin’s magic is the only thing keeping them from crushing completely and ruining several cars, before Arthur even learns what a pedal is.

Trains? I can totally see Arthur obsessing with trains and wanting to go on each and every one of them, and Merlin follows his ideas, because why not, Arthur looks like an happy kid.

Imagine Arthur’s reaction to a rollercoaster. And him throwing up his ice cream right after a ride because Merlin had dared him he couldn’t go there without being afraid and Arthur had to show off.

And Arthur discovering so many foods and sweets, he actually gets a sweet tooth.

The gym. This man will hit the gym consistently and will bring Merlin with him every day, while Merlin shoots him a murderous glare because he is a sofa man, not a gym bro (Arthur would totally be a gym bro).

But this same Arthur is scared of needles. He needs to take several tests and go to the hospital, and Merlin will need to hold his hand, because what do you mean the dentist will put gloved fingers in my mouth and touch my precious teeth?

Or what about Merlin needing to teach Arthur the simple things?

I’m already laughing at the image of Merlin trying to explain to Arthur how a toothbrush works, or a bathtub, or even a bidet.

Oh, the look on Arthur’s face the moment Merlin explains to him how to sit on a bidet.

HOW ABOUT HOW TO WEAR UNDERWEAR?

I bet at first, Arthur will come out of the bedroom with his underwear over his trousers, Superman style. Merlin will need a whack at the back of his head for him to stop laughing at the Once and Future King with briefs over his joggers.

I can totally see Arthur getting diagnosed with autism, and him being super excited over the new discovery, but simply because now he can’t stop thinking about it.

He collects rocks.

Yep, definitely. Arthur will collect so many rocks, tiny stones and gift them to Merlin, who secretly smiles and keeps them all in his precious jewel case.

And what about the sex related stuff?

That is indeed hilarious and a big jump from the Middle Ages and Arthur doesn’t understand why everyone goes around naked, and why they have to talk about everything that is supposed to be private and what the bloody hell is a sex toy? Or a sex shop?

Oh, oh.

Yes. Hilarious.

[randombush3]

take me home

alexia putellas x reader

notes: idek i was just bored. i don’t even like this 😬

words: 2247

summary: it’s late, but you have a visitor you can’t turn away. (think ‘style’ by taylor swift)

warnings: (repurposed) smut. i don’t wanna talk abt that shocking portion of the fic tho so shh

The nights are lonelier than you had expected them to be when you moved here. Barcelona to London was a big change – a scary one, though it is difficult for your pride to let you admit that.

You, with your ambition, lost sight of what was supposedly tying you down, paying it as much attention as the other person in the relationship was. When you left, nothing really changed. You haven’t heard from her since.

So, as you sit in front of your TV, the bright colours of Sex Education illuminating the white walls of your otherwise dark apartment, you ask yourself once more why you are surprised. Why, every time you spend an evening alone, attempting to master the English language, your heart can’t help but crack a little bit more.

Eyes growing wearier by the minute, you cheat your immersion by texting a friend: no one particularly interesting. She is telling you about her vision for a song. A pianist she heard the other day has inspired her, and she wants your help. You often lend an experienced hand to the ones who need guidance when it comes to producing, but it’s midnight and you can’t be bothered at all. You realise that, in Spain, she must be out in the warmth of the city’s night, sitting on someone or other’s balcony, smoking a cigarette. A quick once-over of your own situation prods at a regret you have decided to ignore.

You’re in London for a reason.

The grating chirp of your buzzer causes your phone to be flung from your grip, landing on the rug beneath your bare feet with a soft, muted thud. Another ring of the buzzer has you groggily heading towards the intercom to the left of your door (painted red since yesterday, as urged by your mother who is all for personalising and making a place feel like home).

“Hello?” you question, too lazy to consider the shockingly short list of potential visitors.

The voice that replies wakes you up, practically setting your body aflame, syllables washing over you as though they come from the font at the altar. Holy. Well, you decide that they are equals.

And, oddly enough, despite moving to another country – despite leaving without saying goodbye, tears in your eyes only cried once your backs had been turned against each other, hands on either side of a door that wasn’t going to open again – you obey her command, slipping on your shoes without hesitation. You step into the lift, examining your tired reflection in the smudged mirror, wondering whether licking your thumb and smoothing out your eyebrows is really going to fix the dark eyebags that act like reverse eyeshadow on your face.

The car that waits outside your building, shadily parked by the pavement across the road, honks once, headlights off. You sigh, accepting your fate, and cross, pulling at the handle of the passenger side, opening the door onto a potentially disastrous night.

“Hola,” says Alexia. Her hair is loose, falling around her shoulders in professional curls. She is in London for a reason, too. From her white shirt and silk trousers, you deduce the kind of reason.

The air is tense, thick with unsaid words and the knowledge of what happened when you last spoke, but you slide onto the leather seat of the rented Audi anyway. “Hola,” you say back. She drives.

There are many questions you’d like to ask her, the first being how she found your address. They sit on your tongue; hopeful, waiting to be said. You swallow and succumb to the heavy silence, listening to the whir of the engine and roll of the tires on the wet tarmac of the roads she drives you down.

She has no map. She knows not where she is taking you, nor why she came in the first place. (The latter is a lie. She misses you. She tells herself she doesn’t.) In truth, she is surprised you don’t notice how she is going round in circles. Maybe you don’t get out much. Maybe you are just as miserable as she has been.

You moved away eight months ago. She has craved your presence for nine. No, ten. Maybe even for a lifetime.

Maybe you feel the same, though she wouldn’t know.

Maybe you want to come home.

Maybe leaving her has only shown you what was always there. What is no longer waiting for you in your apartment after late-night studio sessions or long, draining meetings. What is not a set weekend plan anymore: football matches; dinners with her team; nights at clubs together, dancefloor commandeered and dominated, dingy bathroom not long after. Then, Alexia realises that she has gambled, and that bets can be lost.

Though, if you had found someone else to dance with – to love, really – you’d probably be with them right now.

She wants to say something. Apologise, perhaps. Or ask how you are, solely to discover your current relationship status.

You get there first.

“It’s been a while since I have heard from you.”

She glances across the dashboard, turning right onto a long, tree-lined drive, not caring whether this may be trespassing. It’s hard to look at the road when she could be looking at you instead.

“I have been busy,” she offers.

“I see.”

She bites her tongue, eyes squinting in frustration with herself. Her grip on the steering wheel tightens, though you hardly notice, too occupied with searching for your self-control. You’ve never been blessed with much of it, but it exists within you to a certain extent. Surely.

You know you are wrong when she parks once more outside of your building, this time getting out. You follow suit, taking her hand wordlessly, leading her inside.

Instead of looking into the mirror, she presses you up against it, hands on your hips as you nod, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Her eyes are wild, and you’d think she were drunk if she hadn’t been driving you around for the past twenty minutes. You don’t have to tell her to kiss you. She already knows what to do.

The lift doors open on your floor. You tug her out, taking her home. To your home – a word no longer shared between the two of you.

Your apartment is as dark as you left it, Netflix asking if you are still there as it interrupts Sex Education. You are now accidentally on the next episode.

She laughs quietly when she sees the TV, mouth opening against yours, sound in your mouth as you work to be consumed by her. You’ll probably regret this tomorrow morning.

Alexia takes off her coat, draping it over the back of the sofa. You smile to yourself, choosing to not be conflicted by how comfortable she is here. She knows you well. You like to tidy on your own, and you will set aside her coat somewhere else later. She gives you the freedom – the break in your kiss – to tell her to redress. To get out.

She waits a second more when it does not come.

You undo the top button of her shirt while she stands, paused in your new apartment, breathing in the lingering smell of fresh paint. There are scuff marks on the skirting boards, and she is reminded that it has been eight months. That you have had time to create another life here. It seems as though you, now onto the second button, still manage to mould yourself around her, however.

“Ale,” you murmur, tracing your pinkie finger across the exposed skin of her chest. “It’s okay. I…”

And she heavily relates to your failure to get the words out.

Instead of bearing the silence that should follow, she ignores the alarm bell in her head that warns her not to break her heart all over again, and leans in to kiss you once more, lips soft and familiar and addictive.

Your body feels electric against hers as she kisses you harder and harder. Your mind, for once, is at peace. The first time it has been since you moved here.

You take her to your bedroom, kissing your way down her neck as she lifts your hoodie over your head, muscular arms well-versed in this action. There have been others, you’ve heard.

Topless, you sit on your bed, crumpling the fresh sheets. “I heard that you’ve been out and about with some other girl,” you say, catching your breath. She stands in front of you, looking down, eyes fixed on yours despite the cleavage on display being such a tempting exhibit.

There is guilt here with the two of you, now. She wants to make you feel like you are the only person in the world, but she knows you won’t believe her.

“What you heard is true,” she replies, reluctant to admit it. “But I… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You scoff, lying back anyway. She kneels over you, a leg either side of your waist. “I’ve been there too. A few times.” The pang of jealousy that strikes her low in her stomach spurs her on as she reconnects her lips with yours.

You watch as concentration takes over her, letting her touch you, kiss you, caress you. You haven’t even told her to slow down. If anything, you wish she’d speed up and just get to it already, remembering just how good she makes you feel.

She explores your body like she knows it but wants to learn it all over again, kissing the scars and the freckles and the tattoos that litter your body, all equally important features of the woman that sends her soaring above the clouds. You keen under her touch, whining as your patience depletes.

“Please,” you breathe. Alexia slides down your body, her lips skimming the hollow of your throat. You gasp as she kisses the valley between your breasts, the slight tickle of her hands ghosting your ribs making you feel a thousand things at once.

It all crashes into one as she kisses you over your underwear. Your hand laces through her hair, tousling it. You prefer that over how her stylist does it, anyway.

Her lips brush the waistband of the black fabric, hooking her fingers underneath the elastic, giggling at the way you raise your hips in anticipation. Instead, she chooses to swipe through your folds, circling your clit as you protest half-heartedly. You grip the bedsheets as her fingers dip inside of you, tucking and curling. “Good?” Your back arches as at the welcome invasion. You silently beg for her to leave you more breathless than you already are. She somehow hears your thoughts and inches your underwear down, slotting herself between your thighs, lying on her stomach.

Warm lips caress your inner thigh, teasingly making you ask her for more through your involuntary moans. Alexia’s hot breath ghosts over your clit. “Joder,” you swear. You crane your head up to watch at the first bold swipe of Alexia’s tongue against you. Her lips are hotter than her breath as she kisses you, open-mouthed and needily. Her tongue glides through your wetness, stopping at your entrance. Another urgent moan spills from your lips as her tongue slips inside of you, her hands cupping your bum, bringing you closer to her.

You squeeze your eyes shut, death-gripping whatever you can hold onto, as her tongue makes its way up to your clit. The disappointing emptiness is not felt for long; tongue quickly replaced by two skilled fingers. You groan as she curls inside of you.

Your orgasm builds, months overdue. You grind into her.

She pulls away.

Your eyes flicker open at the loss of contact. “What?” you pant.

She kneels up and brings her hand to her mouth, her soft lips enveloping her glistening fingers. Her eyes stare up at yours, intense and lustful, her lips turning upwards in a devilish smile. It is the sexiest thing you have ever seen.

Her hair hangs down as she leans over you, shirt still just as done-up as it was when you had last been focused on things other than how good it feels to have Alexia between your legs. The pause, hot and breathy, enables her to pull the white material off, lacy bralette barely covering anything.

You undo the clasp at the back expertly, throwing the bralette somewhere that will prolong her nakedness in your bed. You groan, a common sound now, at the sight of her, hands cupping her breasts as she grows bashful.

When her thigh connects with your centre, she loses her shyness. She can feel how wet you are, and, really, she feels sorry for you.

Once more, she slips her fingers inside you, adding another this time. Your back curves upwards, your muscles trembling. Alexia’s free hand rests on your navel, holding you down as her tongue swirls around your clit.

She sends you reeling; catapulting you head-first into a land of bliss.

When you have both showered — much, much later — you let her distance herself from you in your bed. She’s a stranger now, you tell yourself.

Alexia leaves London the next day, with no plea to take you home with her.

You spend another evening in front of the TV, deciding that yesterday was only a blip in your routine. But, you know, deep down, that she will be back. Or vice versa. You’ll never go out of style.

[auspicioustidings]

Does this orc romance journey mean we might get orc 141 and reader thoughts???

See now I think the way the 141 lures in a nice human woman to fuck would be that not all of them are orcs.

Ghost and Soap are and they are mean looking fuckers. Ghost is covered in battle scars and is just unimaginably huge, Soap is so clearly a warrior with how his hair is shaved at the side with the top braided in a fighter's style.

But Price is a rough yet regal looking human man, the kind that is contracted to act as a guard for nice, noble women. Elven Gaz had thought it would be how they'd find a woman for all of them, that one of these nobles would take Price's eye and they could steal her away. After all he may enjoy how rough his three companions are, but part of him still misses a gentler touch, a more feminine energy to balance it all out.

It is not a noble woman in the end. There is one Price thinks to test, to introduce to his orcs. He doesn't love her, but she certainly is pretty to look at and perhaps the haughty arrogance might please his elf (it would not, Gaz is not much like his kin in taste).

Imagine Soap's surprise when he goes to grab this woman as Price is making a show of fighting off Ghost to see her reaction and he ends up with a knitting needle jammed into his side by her quiet mouse of a ladies maid. He is in love just from that, even as Ghost drags him away so Price can look the conquering hero he is twitterpated entirely, holding the bleeding wound in his side in a lovers caress.

Price pays attention to this maid afterwards having never truly looked her way before. He finds her clever, witty and scrappy as all hell. She is not the delicate beauty of her mistress but he comes to find his heart starts to race at the sight of her anyway. He discovers she grew up the eldest of 10 children to a poor family and that this position was one she clawed her way up to in order to support them as best she could. She makes such a good ladies maid because she can more or less do everything. It's her resourcefulness he falls for, how any task she is given she will find a way to deliver and not expect praise or adulation.

Gaz can't help but be curious when Price talks about her and decides to verify these claims, visiting the family home to find she was truthful. Her younger siblings are fascinated by his ears while her parents try to do their best to be worthy hosts of a visiting elf. They are crude peasants, their hovel small and messy and the food they serve not fit for even the lowest elf. But somehow he cannot help but feel such a pang of warmth from how they treat him like family even though he is only a stranger who was passing by and asked for shelter. He does not need to meet the girl to fall in love with her, he only needs to hear how her family talks about her.

It drives Ghost into a foul mood as the months go on and all his mates can fucking talk about is some useless human girl. He never wanted a woman with them, was rather hoping they'd get over this notion eventually. He means to ruin her, breaking into her room by cover of night and holding her to the bed while he undoes his trousers. He tries to shove himself down her throat and she damn near bites his prick off. Bloody mouthed and scowling she fights her fear and will not submit as he assumed she would so easily. He barks at her about how he will bloody her cunt with his now bloody cock. He does not in the end, only because he falls for her the moment she barks back that she will bite his bloody cock clean off even while he can scent the flood of arousal between her legs from the idea of him taking her. He decides then that he will have this human woman only when she begs for him and he will do whatever he damn well must to make that happen.

[theblackfemininesociety]

⏰ Its Time To Level Up Your Wardrobe: Everything You Need to Slay This Fall / Winter ! 💋

Hello Besties and Future Besties of B.F.S,

Tis’ the season to dress to impress! As the holidays approach, it's time to embrace vibrant colors, luxurious fabrics, and fashionable accessories that capture the festive and wintry spirit. From cozy gatherings to glamorous parties, each occasion calls for a unique outfit that showcases your personal style. Whether you opt for a classic little black dress, a chic tailored suit, or a playful holiday sweater, remember to accessorize with flair. Statement jewelry, elegant shoes, and a stylish clutch can elevate any look, making you shine at every event. Embrace the season's trends, mix and match textures, and don’t be afraid to step outside your comfort zone.

This is where your BFF (us, duh!) comes in to make sure you have the best fashion looks while you create unforgettable memories!

👩🏿‍🎨 Let's start with the color schemes:

As the seasons change, it's the perfect time to refresh your wardrobe with inspiring color schemes that capture the essence of fall and winter. Think warm earth tones, rich jewel hues, and cozy neutrals that not only evoke the beauty of nature during these months but also create stylish, layered looks. Use the color palettes above as a guide to mix and match pieces, from chunky knits to tailored coats, ensuring your outfits are not only chic but also reflective of the season's spirit!

It’s a Cheetah-licious Fall 🐆

Animal prints (done the right way) can add flair and dimension to your looks! This season we want you ladies to experiment with cheetah/leopard prints! Whether it's a boot, jacket or scarf, we encourage you to mix and match these bold patterns with your existing wardrobe. Pair a cheetah print scarf with a solid-colored top for a chic look, or wear leopard print boots with a denim skirt for an edgy vibe. Don't be afraid to layer different prints together; just keep the colors complementary for a stylish effect (see season color schemes above) . Accessories are key, so consider adding a statement bag or bold jewelry to complete your outfit. Embrace your wild side and have fun with these trendy prints!

😻 Fur Trimmed Galore:

Last season, we discussed the importance of elevating your jacket selections (see post here) we mentioned how fur was giving ✨Rich Aunty💰✨ just like the Sherling jacket was highly recommended last season. We urge you to look into ANY clothing item with a fur trimming to elevate your look.

👛 Meet Tweed, Plaid’s Rich Bougie Sister:

As the crisp air of fall and winter settles in, tweed clothing emerges as the quintessential choice for those seeking both warmth and sophistication. This elevated plaid fabric, with its rich textures and intricate patterns, effortlessly elevates any ensemble, making it a staple for the season. Tweed’s timeless elegance not only provides comfort against the chill but also adds a touch of refinement to your wardrobe, whether you’re dressing for a cozy gathering or a formal event. Embrace the allure of tweed this season and step out in style, showcasing a look that is both classic and contemporary.

👢Soft Girl Suede:

This winter, let’s embrace the cozy charm of the "soft girl suede" look – it’s the perfect blend of comfort and style that will make you feel effortlessly chic! Imagine stepping out in those stunning suede high boots paired with an oversized shirt and a flirty skirt, topped off with some chic gloves to keep you warm. Suede not only looks fabulous, but it also adds a luxurious touch to any outfit, making it a must-have for the season. So let’s elevate our wardrobe and wrap ourselves in the soft, dreamy textures of suede – trust me, you won’t want to miss out on this trend!

🥋 The Power of a Belt:

A little beltology is needed this season. Point number one: do not underestimate the power of adding a belt to your look. Whether it’s a simple leather belt to add on to your trousers or a glamorous statement belt to put over your blazers or dresses, please get your belt game up! If you can splurge on a designer belt this season. This will add a little extra touch to your outfits! Accessories are a must so have fun and don’t overthink it 😉

🪢 Dare to Mix and Match Fabrics?

As we embrace the cozy charm of fall and winter, let’s elevate our layering game by mixing fabrics for a stylish twist! Imagine the warmth of a chunky knit sweater paired with the sleek elegance of a silk blouse, or the rugged appeal of a denim jacket layered over a soft cashmere turtleneck. Mixing textures not only adds depth and interest to our outfits but also allows us to play with colors and patterns in exciting new ways. This season, let's break free from the ordinary and create unique looks that reflect our individual styles. So, gather your favorite pieces, experiment with combinations, and watch how effortlessly chic our ensembles become—because layering isn’t just about warmth; it’s about making a statement!

👔 Layering with Corsets:

As the chill sets in and our wardrobes start to cozy up, it’s the perfect time to add a little flair to those capsule favorites! 🤎 This fall and winter, let’s take our style game to the next level by layering corsets over our beloved staples like a crisp white button-up, a chic long-sleeve dress, or even that classic blazer jacket!

Imagine the magic: a structured corset adds a touch of sophistication and a hint of edge, transforming your everyday looks into stunning outfits that turn heads! 🤩 Whether you’re heading to brunch, a night out, or just want to feel fabulous while running errands, this layering trick is a must-try!

🎨Colorful Monochromatics:

As we embrace the cozy vibes of fall and winter, why not add a splash of fun to our wardrobes? This season, let’s say goodbye to the dull and hello to colorful monochromatic looks that are not only stunning but super easy to pull off!

Imagine stepping out in a chic matching set or coordinating pieces that make you feel like a fashionista without the fuss. ✨ The best part? You can choose one or two pops of color from the fabulous color schemes above and effortlessly build outfits that turn heads! 💥

Whether you’re vibing with warm earth tones or cool hues, monochromatic looks can totally work with our core colors too! So, let’s mix and match, layer it up, and have fun with our outfits this season.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Connect With Us 🫶🏽🫶🏾🫶🏿

📸 Follow us on Instagram !

💬Join our ‘Ladies Room’ Group-chat on Discord !

📲 Follow our Facebook page !

[y2ashlee]

Azul Ashengrotto x Curvy/Plus size/Bigger! Female! Reader SMUT

WARNINGS: Bad writing, Unprotected sex, sex obviously, Yeehaw style

Requests open!!

Fun fact: A cummberbund is what you wear to hide the waistband of your trousers when wearing a suit.

Notes: Reader is wearing a skirt. Reader also has at least shoulder length hair.

Even though Azul body shames himself and whatnot I think he’d be into bigger women/men/people. I also think he’d be a thigh guy seeing as he’s a merman and they do not have thighs.

Are they dating? I guess.

Also magic protects reader from getting pregnant and STDs and whatnot.

~~~

Azul smiled as he welcomed the ramshackle prefect into his office locking the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed. “Thank you for helping me out, Azul.” She said walking into his dorm room. “It’s not problem, my dear prefect.” He said smugly. “You can sit anywhere you like.” He said his eyes glancing at her as she sat down on his bed her bare thighs pressing together as she got comfortable her hands resting behind her on the bed as she lent back. He gulped slightly as his eyes darted away from her as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the message before sighing softly. “Apologies, Prefect. There seems to be a problem that has to be dealt with. I’ll be right back.” He said tiling his head slightly. “It’s ok I’ll be here.” She said giving him a small smile. He nods before leaving the room.

About 10 minutes goes by before Azul returns to his dorm room. “Apologise for the wait, Prefec-!” His eyes go wides at the image of her lying down on her stomach playing on her phone on his bed. Her thighs pressed together her skirt almost riding up too high, one of her crew length socks slightly pushed down. Her thighs and ass cheeks jiggle slightly as she turns around in response to his voice. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting for you~” She says smiling slightly before sitting up and moving to the side of his bed her legs falling to the floor as her thighs press together again. One hand on the bed patting the spot next to her the other resting on one of his pillows. Her hand sides under it. Her eyebrows raise slightly as she felts something and grabbed it pulling it out. His eyes widened in shock at what she pulled out. “Ooo~ a dirty magazine!” She said smirking and looking over at him seeing his surprised flushed face. “So you into this kinda thing?” She asked sitting looking down at the page it was folded onto. A curvy and busty woman in dark purple and black lingerie her hair, eye and skin colour similar to her own. “Az?” She asked looking at him once more.

He is mortified at what she thinks of him now. As he stands there his face flushed to his ears at how embarrassed he is. He remembers how it all happened how that dirty magazine got under his pillow and what he did. It all started the previous day Floyd had confiscated (stolen) it from a first year after finding a group of them looking as it in one of the dorm hallways. And after that Azul confiscated it from Floyd as he was reading it in Monstro Lounge. Thankfully it was not opening time yet so no one else saw. Azul had forgotten about it after quickly tossing it on his bed to dispose of later after the day had ended. And after the day had ended he retuned to his room after showering and getting in fresh pyjamas and getting into bed to look at his phone that he saw the dirty magazine again. He put his phone on his bedside table and grabbed the magazine slowly flipping through it before landing on a page and folding it in half as he looked at it his eyes drawn it noticing and skimpy clothing as it did nothing to hide anything all of her parts on display. “..so that’s what a female land dwellers..” he mumbled his gaze intensified as he noticed her hair and eye colour. “…she kind of looks like..” his eyes widened as his pictured the prefect of ramshackle dorm more of her features looked similar and the more he thought of her he started to imagine her as the women in the picture the same half lidded eyes the same skimpy outfit the same position.

Before he could shake away the thoughts he was picturing her doing all sorts of vulgar and sexual things the only thing that brought him back to his senses was that he felt very uncomfortable and restrained he looked down noticing that his package was straining against his pyjama bottoms. His face was slightly flushed as he pulled the hem of his pyjama bottoms down as well as his underwear freeing his length from hot confines. He sighed as the cool air hit his exposed length as it stood almost fully erect. He bit his lip as he placed his hand on his length and started to stroke and pump it. His other hand holding her magazine as he continued to picture her once more. He sloughed and slid down his pillows slightly as placed his feet on the mattress using his thighs as a book stand as he rested the magazine against his legs. He lets out a sigh as he picks up his pace feeling himself get closer as he squeezed harder. He let out a straggled groan like moan his breath hitched as he came his hot fluid squirting slightly onto the magazine white rest went on his hand and stomach.

“Azul?!” He heard her call as he looked up as her feeling embarrassed and guilty. “..y-yes?” He asks. “So your into dirty magazines?” She said looking at the picture once more noticing something on the paper. “AH!! N-o!” He coughs to clear his through. “I confiscated it from Floyd!!” He said. “So, he’s into this kinda stuff?” She asked. “…I never would have picked him for that but each to their own.” She said dropping it to the floor. “So anyway…” she said trying to change the subject. “Are you going to sit down or what?” She asked patting the bed next to her once more. He coughed once more and sat down his hands in his lap as he avoided her eyes. She smiled softly before pulling her legs back up onto the bed and moving behind him giving him a hug. Her chest against his back her hat moving slightly almost falling before she took it off and dropped it to the floor her hands gently clasping his shoulders her thumbs rubbing into them. His eyes widened as he relaxed with her touch his stress and embarrassment fading from his mind. She slides off his over coat and blazer once again dropping them to the floor. “Come lay down and relax, Take off your shoes.” She said softly and he complied laying down his head on his pillow as she laid next to him kissing his check as she rest her head in her hand her elbow propped up on the bed. She trails her fingers up and down his chest kissing his chin then his nose his beauty mark and finally his lips.

“_-______, my dear.” Azul said his face flushed once more. “Mmm..” she answered pulling off one of his gloves before he responded. “I thought you wanted me to relax.” She smiled at him taking another glove off. “I do that’s why I’m taking of your gloves. I’m going to look after you and get you de stressed.” She said softly kissing his check once more. “I’ll give you a back massage and I’ll make you some tea afterwards.” She said smiling softly her hand holding his. “I-I’m sorry I don’t think I can do this!” He said his eyes wide as he sat up on the bed pulling his hand from hers and turning away from her his face flushed once more at the realisation of his trousers becoming tighter. “Oh, I-I shouldn’t have touched you without asking I’m sorry.” She said softly. “I can go if you want to be alone.” She said withdrawing from him. “No-wait, it’s not that I want to be alone I just….” He takes a deep breath placing his hands in his lap his thighs pressing together a bit. “..I just-“ he mumbled the last part incoherent to her. “Pardon?” She asked. “I’m-“ he mumbled again incoherently. “I’m sorry??” She asked once more confused. “IM HAVING A HARD TIME AT THE MOMENT!!” He said quickly frustration and embarrassment laced in his voice. “Oh…” she said realising what he meant. “I see…” she said blinking quickly as she took in the information.

“…well then I can help with that.” She said softly placing a hand on his. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that the page model looked like me.” She said smirking slightly as he bit his lip. “And I noticed that certain stain..” she said her voice low a sultry as she blew against his ear. He jumped his face so hot he let out a gasp of embarrassment. “I-Im so sorry-“ she cut him off with a kiss placing a hand on his and moving it away. “Come on lay back down and I’ll help you out, ok.” She said urging him to lay down and he complied and laid back down taking a breath. “So what sort of things did you think about.” She said moving to kneel over him and sit on his thighs. He let out a breath and lowered his head slightly. “Did you picture me like this, touching and kissing you?” She asked her hands trailing up his chest to undo his bow tie and top few buttons. “Y-yes..” he said his legs quivering slightly as she started to grind her clothed heat against his hardened bulge. He groans as she continues to grind against him her hands trail down to his trousers sliding up the cummerbund to get to his trouser button and zipper undoing them both after stopping her movements pulling them down slightly to get to the waist band of his underwear. He bites his lip when she runs a finger down his bludge earning a groan from him his eyes slightly watering. She leans back and slides up her shirt before taking it off completely and tossing it to the floor. His eyes widened as he watched stunned as she took of her singlet tossing it aside as well. She smiled slightly her face now flushed as well. “I know my body isn’t as attractive as that models.” She said running a hand through her hair.

At her soft spoken words he snapped out of his daze grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her down to him. Kissing her roughly his tongue slipping past her surprised lips exploring her mouth his hands moving to her hips rubbing up at down her skin as they counting their passionate kiss before pulling away from each other for breath. “Your body is gorgeous.” He said breathlessly before kissing her once more. She didn’t know how to respond to that. “..w-well I’m glad you like it…” she said kissing him once more while her fingers play with the waistband of his underwear. She pulls away once more stuffing down the bed on her kneels a little before pulling down his underwear his hardened length standing almost straight up. He shudders slightly at the feeling of her breath against it her hand grasps it gently her thumb moving up and down it slowly before she lent down taking the tip into her mouth. His eyes widened at her action before he groaned softly precum dripping onto her mouth as she using her tongue to lick around the tip almost playing with it. Her free hand reaches down to her own heat and starts to stroke herself using her underwear as friction against her pearl closing her eyes she focuses on taking more of him into her mouth using her tongue as much as she can. She moves her underwear to the side before sliding her fingers against her wet outer walls. He shudders his eyes watering as he feels himself close to climaxing.

She moans against his length as she starts to insert her fingers inside of herself groaning when she starts to pump them inside of herself. His eyes start to water before he lets out a high pitched strangled moan as he came inside he mouth his body shuddering at the warm of her mouth. Her eyes widened at the feeling of his fluid inside her mouth. She swallowed it subconsciously as she pulled away. His eyes wide at the realisation of what she did. “Y-yOu DiDn’T hAvE tO swallow it!” He said his voice breaking in surprise. “It was an accident.” She said unashamed as she sat up shimmying her way up to his thighs once more her hand never leaving his length as she started to stroke his length feeling it harden once more against her hand. He shivers at the movement his eyes wavering slightly as he bit his lip once more watching as she lined herself up before slowly inserting the tip of his length into her before lowering herself onto him. His eyes widened at her action before letting out a groan feeling her warm wet walls around his length making him shudder as he welcomed the comforting warmth legs shuddering slightly as he sighed. She lets out a breath her eyes watering slightly as she started to move herself against his shaft biting her lip as she clenched her eyes shut.

She huffed as she continued every time taking more of him inside of herself until he was completely inside of her taking stopping for a moment her eyes watery as she took a deep breath before moving starting to move once more letting out a groan her hands clutching at the remaining clothing on Azul’s waist. His eyes widened as he finally looked up at her face looking at her dishevelled hair sweat dripping down her forehead her watery half lidded eyes. He let out a breath at the beauty he saw in her. He placed his hands on her thighs rubbing his hands against them soothingly as he stared to grind his hips up into hers. She let out a breathy moan liking to feeling of his movements. They continued their messy movements his length pressing different spots inside of her as she got closer to her own high. He quivered and moaned feeling himself close once against grinding up against quicker as he shuddered feeling himself release inside her his legs shaking as they raised up slightly his eyes watering his glasses now disheveled as he watched her grind against him not stopping as she chased her own high. Once he calmed down slightly he started to trust up into her wanting to make her feel just as good as him.

She moaned feeling her walls quiver slightly before she leans over clutching his shirt drool dripping from her mouth as he continues his thrusts like he hand all the energy in the world. She moaned as she felt him press against a sweet spot inside of her as he contours trust against it. Her eyes shuddered as she felt herself come undone her walls clenching around his hardened length as she lets out a low moan her body quivering as she hauled her movements. He groaned as he felt himself come undone once more moaning against her ear as he quivered his movements slowing into they completely stopped his arms wrapping around her as she laid against his chest their breathing heavy their hearts beating fast in their chests. They took so many deep breaths trying to calm down until they did. He sighed as he used his partly regained strength to lift her of of his length shuddering slightly as the cool air hit it. He rubbed her back gently. “My dear, please lay down.” He said still catching his breath as she nodded and rolled over into the bed next to him her face staring at him with a soft smile. He smiled back at her before rolling over and kissing her forehead before sitting up and fixing himself. “Where are you going?” She asked her voice croaky. “Just to get something to clean up. I’ll be back in a moment my dear.” He said standing up and not looking at her as he walked went to get a towel. Pausing in the mirror to fix himself once more seeing how disheveled he was.

She would fall asleep before he returned as he washed his face and screamed in his head at what just happened. She must never know what face he had before he left the room. She must never know how embarrassed he looked and how he almost couldn’t bear to look at her in her disheveled state knowing that he probably could have done more to her. How he didn’t want to stop but knowing he had to stop for her sake. His inner turmoil would continue for at least half an hour even after he returned and cleaned her up and laid down next to her. And her not waking once only snuggling up against him.

~~~

Anyway that’s it hope you enjoyed. Next is Jade.

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

Winx Season 2 Outfits

Once again, I finished this way back and just never posted it.

Season 1 Outfits

Onto the why! This got long, so cut! ✂️

The main factor for these outfits was the fact that they're on Earth for almost all of this season, so the outfits had to be a little more in-line with Earth fashion while still being "them".

Tecna finally opens up to different clothes. While shopping for Earth clothes, she comes across a jacket (Pictured above) that she absolutely falls in love with and never takes off. The shoes she's wearing are an old pair of Bloom's. She still prefers Zenithian clothes (as seen by the shirt), but is glad to have stepped out of her comfort zone a bit.

Musa's been saving up her allowance for some new clothes for a while, and finally got to expand her wardrobe. It's not too far from what she wore in season 1, but it's new, and it's actually hers this time. The headphones were a group gift to her for her birthday (they do actually fit her ears. It's not pictured bc I didn't want to edit the bases much, but all pointy ears get hidden via magic).

Flora brought some of her nicer clothes with her this year, now knowing the kind of group she's with (and she's glad she did when she meets Helia). There's not a huge change in the types of clothes she wears this season beyond that. Most of her clothes can reasonably blend in with Earth fashion.

Stella wears a little less jewellery this season. The illusion hiding their more alien features is her doing, and it's dark magic too, which she still isn't strong at, so no earrings to make it easier. The dress is actually Vanessa's. She starts the season off in something typically Stella, but gets very close with Vanessa, and gifts her a dress of hers. Stella still wears the sunglasses (I forgot to turn on the layer with them when I took the picture, and I'm not going back or this will never be posted).

Bloom is wearing some of the clothes she had to leave behind when she first came to Alfea. She takes full advantage of having access to her full wardrobe this season, and this is really only one of many outfits. She's still struggling to figure out how to incorporate pink into her outfits.

Aisha!!! She makes her first appearance this season! This isn't her introductory outfit, but she changes to this pretty quickly after being accepted into the group. This was meant to be similar to the group's season 1 outfits, where she's still trying to find herself a bit. Luckily, she has a lot of people ready and willing to help. It's nearly entirely second hand and paid for by everyone else.

Roxy also makes her first appearance this season. She gets a lot of her trousers scratched up from various animals she takes care of, so she ends up patching them with custom-made patches. Her docs are also customised. She wears fingerless gloves because they look so cool. I will not be taking any kind of criticism on this point. She has a few outfits with some different styles, but likes to stick with either darker colours or neons.

Extra Tidbit: Most of this season's wardrobe is from various second-hand clothes stores.

Aisha and Roxy's first appearance outfits