Soulmate Au - Blog Posts

Soulmate AU

Where your soulmate and you spark (it feeels like joy, it doesn’t hurt) when you touch the first time. It’s enough to clearly be seen, but only is about the size of their palms.

The sparks return even more intensely when the two are completely in love and the relationship is healthy. The sparks cover wherever you touch.

The longer you have the spark, the better you get at controlling them, bc always having sparks is like bragging. Being able to surge sparks at will takes at least 5 years of practice to master.

soulmate trope | shinsou

Shinsou’s route of soulmate trope.

this one is for the touch-starved girlies who are scared of intimacy and scared of people leaving warnings: female reader has a very specific view of sex and intimacy: that someone sleeping with her and then leaving her would fucking ruin her psyche forever. so she's a big-ass, kissless virgin for nasty evil plot reasons. sexual intimacy and abandonment/commitment are major themes. pseudo-sex work, with shinsou's hobby/side-job. shinsou and reader toss around the term bitch as a playful insult. this version of reader is fairly insecure and anxious about being loved and lovable—but so is shinsou.

~29k

Kirishima had his tongue in Mina’s mouth.

Well, more accurately, sometimes it was in her mouth. He was visibly licking at her lips and around her mouth fairly often, letting saliva drool down both of their faces—Mina’s shirt had a damp spot near the neck. Their kissing skills seemed sloppy at best and fucking disgusting at average, making loud squelches, splorches, and suction noises, overall sounding very wet and a bit like walking through ankle-deep, thick mud in rubber rainboots. Their moans, too, didn’t sound very sensual—more like there’s someone in the next room sampling someone haunted museum sound effects with some overlapping Yoko Ono texture.

Kirishima’s hands cupped Mina’s boobs, his fingers stiff and just, like, holding them. Not playing with her nipples through her shirt, or anything, but the way he occasionally squeezed them must have felt good, since Mina moaned more loudly when he did so. He’d moan the loudest when she pulled at his hair, knocking the back of his head against the refrigerator door.

You ducked back around the kitchen corner, grimacing as you sank to the floor to clutch your knees to your chest. This wasn’t the first time they were blocking the fridge, but you’d learnt there was nothing to do but kill time until they finished. Stealing some of Aoyama’s posh bubble-pop ice cream would have to wait.

***

“No, thank you,” you said to Monoma over your shoulder, pushing open the main door to Class A’s dorm, “You taught me stuff about my quirk today. I really value your fresh eyes on my old shit. Next time we train together, I’d like—Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yaoyorozu and Jirou were dry humping on the commons couch, with Yaoyorozu in Jirou’s lap with her hands in Jirou’s hair, tilting her head back enough to lick up her neck, right over the spot where her half of the soulmate tattoo lay.

Grimacing (you heard it in his voice and by his sucking in through his teeth; you’d covered your eyes and shied away), Monoma stooped to pick up Yaoyorozu’s shirt to slingshot it back towards them. “Get a room.”

***

All you’d wanted was to find the closet where they keep the lightbulbs.

Instead, you opened the door on Midoriya kneeling, Uraraka’s leg over his shoulder, audibly slurping, while she, skirt hiked up around her waist, ground against his face.

You shut the door again. Your dorm could stand being dark for a few more hours.

***

“I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to peel off my skin. No, actually, I’m going to eject my skellington from my body so that I can just be a lump of organs and skin. And then I can rest on the carpet in a pile,” you said, frowning into your ice cream, cheek propped on your fist, “Why can’t they all, like, give some sort of warning?”

“Not everyone carries a sock to put over every doorknob,” said a grinning Shinsou from across the table, licking around the side of his mint chocolate chip cone, “And c’mon, the U.A. dorm rooms are not sexy, and the walls are thin.”

Some sprinkles fell off of your ice cream when you gestured loosely. “Don’t I know it. I share a wall with Hagakure, and she and Ojiro are fucking constantly. He makes her get off on his tail a lot—I guess kind of like thigh riding?”

“You can’t do anything about it when they’re fucking in the privacy of their own dorms.” Shinsou bit directly into his ice cream and chewed, like a maniac.

“And apparently, she really like when he tickles her clit with the tip of his tail? I am burdened with knowledge,” you said, sighing, and you ate a mournful spoonful.

Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Does it lessen your opinion of them?”

“No. I’m glad they’re happy,” you said, “I’ve listened to their yearning over the years, so I know it’s such a relief for them for this quirk intervention to get feelings out, along with the assurance of permanent romance and stability. Hashtag get some, I guess. I’m just—the influx of soulmates and their PDA is highly inconvenient for navigating my everyday life.”

“You sound like you’ve put thought into it.” Shinsou smirked, tongue flattening as he licked over the top of his scoop (and turning slightly green). “Just inconvenient?”

You shot him a look and fished around in your paper cup for more sprinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you sure you’re not jealous?” asked Shinsou, the shop’s A/C kicking in and blowing through his hair—he pursed his lips and scooted his metal chair out of the way of the vent. “Since, y’know, you don’t appear to have a soulmate. You ready to tell me yet? Why’re you so nervous?”

Yikes. You’d been avoiding that.

“Are you not marked physically? Or do you have one on your boobs—”

You sighed overdramatically and sank down in your chair until your ass practically hung off of it. “I have a soulmark, and it’s not in an embarrassing place. Relatively normal, actually. It’s on my back, so it took me a while to notice it.”

Shinsou bit into the cone and crunched loudly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“You’re not seeing it. No one’s ever gonna see it.”

“No one? You’re confident. You think your soulmate won’t ever want to take you from behind?” His tongue flicked out to swipe at a melted drop on his lips.

“Oh, my God.” You buried your face in your hands. “God, the thought of someone I don’t even know having sex with me—I don’t wanna think about it. But that’s not what I meant. I was being facetious; I meant that my words are pretty embarrassing.”

Shinsou slumped down in his seat at that, but nowhere near as far as you. “Oh? First words?”

“I assume. It’s a sentence, anyway.” You sat up, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream. “I—I’ll tell you, since I don’t want anyone—seeing me, and I know you’ll bug me about it, but it’s—”

“Just spit it out. Rip off the bandage.”

Cringing, you held up your hands in defence. “Don’t kill me, but I also don’t remember who said them to me?”

“Oh, you’re joking,” said Shinsou, his face lighting the fuck up, “That’s fucking hilarious, if it’s true. And how do you know they’ve already been said to you? How do you know they aren’t still to come?”

“I don’t know. I just…feel it in my heart of hearts that I have already heard these words, but I can’t for the life of me remember who said them,” you said, and you bent to riffle through your bag for your phone, “I keep a list of everyone who’s not paired off in my notes app, and I’m trying to remember the situations in which I first met them—”

“You’re stalling,” said Shinsou, grinning as he popped the last of the cone into his mouth, “Tell me what it says.”

Wincing, you set your bag aside. “Don’t make fun of me,” you said, biting your lip and scrunching your eyes shut, “but, uh. It reads, Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.” At his silence, you cracked an eye open.

Shinsou’s eyes had glazed over, but he shook himself and spoke. “Don’t know why you’re embarrassed. That’s fucking hot.” He grabbed your used napkins to toss them in the garbage. “Think it’s an enemies-to-lovers type relationship? Just kidding,” he said at your pained expression, “But I see what you mean about those already being said to you. Weren’t you seen as sort of a cold, uptight bitch when we first started attending U.A.?”

“An easy misinterpretation,” you said, scraping at the bottom of your cup, “People thought my being shy and not talking to people was being a bitch, but I was just nervous that I was around so many people my age who seemed so much more in tune with their quirks that I was.”

“So, that gives you a time frame for when you met your soulmate. And,” he said, holding up a finger, “that lets you know that you met your soulmate in a group with other people, unless they speak in the royal we for some reason. It also sounds like you were late to a scheduled event. You remember doing anything like that freshman year?”

“Look, all I remember about the first three months of freshman year is being overwhelmed by how cool everyone was. That time is a blur to me, and before now, I’ve been grateful for that. Aizawa-sensei really put us through the wringer. I was meeting literally everyone I currently hang out with during that time, though, so that’s not helpful.” You gave your empty container to Shinsou when he held out his hand, and he threw it away for you. “How’s your search going? You gonna share your details?”

“I’ve got a name,” he said, cool as you please, chair clanking as he sat back down, “but I’m not sharing. It’s not yours, if you’re concerned.” His nose scrunched as he grinned, poking your arm. “It’s someone out of reach, and I’ve come to terms with that. I’m doing pretty well on my own. You ready to leave?”

Nodding, you slung your bag over your arm. “I envy you. You’re brave. Me—I’m dreading the thought of the pain we’ll feel if we don’t find our soulmates. Shouldn’t we be feeling it already?”

Shinsou held the shop door open for you. “It hasn’t been that long, and when it happens, I’ll manage. I’ll be more worried about you, you crybaby.”

“If it gets too excruciating, I’ll just have you brainwash me to not feel it, right?” you stuck out your tongue, walking backwards as he caught up to you.

His countenance darkened. “Stop that. You know I’m never gonna use my quirk on you. I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“But Hitoshi,” you said, dragging out the last syllable, “Imagine how productive I could be if you made me study, or how fucking relaxed I could be for once, if you told me to; my brain could be fucking calm for once—”

“Never. And that’s final,” said Shinsou, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he jogged to your side, “You keep trying to convince me, and y’know, the definition of insanity is—”

“Fudge off, you fuck,” you said, smiling, “I guess I can keep trying to empty my brain on my own. Gosh, it must be nice to be able to not freak out and overanalyse things constantly, and you’d think you’d want someone willing to train your quirk on. I mean, I’m here, and I want it.”

“Keep dreaming,” said Shinsou, gently shoulder-checking you, “So, got any ideas about how to get Hagakure and Ojiro to shut up?”

***

Since Midnight was working with Tainted Love at a women’s rehabilitation centre, she was able to confiscate some of Tainted Love’s team’s notes on her quirk. It had a lot to do with math and probability, but the nub and gist of what interested you was that while soulmates typically breathed in the same pink cloud, they didn’t have to.

Which brought a new factor to your soulmate search: maybe it was someone outside of U.A., someone who breathed in her quirk before she was captured.

But while you were at first reassured by more information, you were also now perpetually on edge. Though all of her victims had reported, what if someone didn’t even know they breathed it in? Plus, your request for the list of victims was still being processed and supposed to have around four thousand people on it, and you might not even get it due to privacy laws.

At least someone was finding all this funny: Shinsou laughed but listened to your frazzled thoughts, and he opened his dorm room to you whenever Hagakure’s moans became too pornographic.

***

Everybody’s fucking. Everybody.

Everywhere you went, you walked in on someone sucking face. You couldn’t drop a pen in class without noticing that someone’s getting fingered.

You bounced a tennis ball against Shinsou’s dorm room ceiling. “Why is everyone focused on the physical? Why isn’t anyone into the goddamn romance and intimacy of it all? If you’ve been fated to know and love someone for the rest of your life, living out the mundanities and revelling in the unfolding of a relationship, then why the hell is everyone focused on physical pleasure?”

Shinsou didn’t even look up from his phone. “Spoken like the world’s biggest virgin.”

“Hey!” The ball fell onto the floor. “So what. Just because I haven’t experienced that sort of thing doesn’t mean I can’t understand its value but still want something more.” You slinked your top half off his bed to grasp for the tennis ball, fingertips grazing it, not wanting to get up. “I get the appeal of sex. I get it. But I would be more interested in the intimacy of knowing someone and being known.”

Shinsou waved a dismissive hand. “I know. Zoom in on our friendship.” He locked his phone and set it on his bedside table. “But for someone who says she doesn’t want sex, you’re one touch-starved little bitch. You’re doing it to yourself, not letting anyone touch you casually. I hazard to guess you’re putting too much value on the physicality of a future relationship that might not even exist.”

Only your feet were still on the bed as you strained to catch the rolling ball. “I touch you.”

“You put your head on my shoulder. Sometimes,” he said, getting off the bed, “and you occasionally let me touch your arms for comedic effect and emphasis.” He picked up the tennis ball and took it back to the bed, and you scrambled back to get all the way on it.

“Listen, I don’t know where everyone’s been,” you said, taking the ball back after he tossed it against the ceiling himself once, “Especially now that everyone might have bodily fluids on their hands. You, I know you wash your hands. I know where you’ve been. You train with Aizawa-sensei and come back to this room. You should get a plant, or something, to keep you company. It might encourage you to raise the blinds for once.”

“Excuse you. I also spend time with a cat Kouda’s hooked up for me,” he said pointedly, “Her name’s Dango, and she loves me. You could say I’m drowning in pussy.”

“I could not say,” you said, rubbing the ball’s highlighter-yellow fuzz as you lay back in his bed, legs dangling off the edge, “Big sigh. I guess you’re right about my putting too much stock in being physical with my soulmate, instead of with someone now. I think—I don’t wanna be vulnerable in that way in front of someone who might leave? If someone saw me naked and then ghosted me, I think I’d strangle myself. Or him. There’d be someone walking around with that information on me, and he could tell anyone. I can’t have that. He’d have to die.”

“Well, you’ve already seen a bunch of our friends naked on accident—”

“Not up close. Besides, it wasn’t my goal to see them like that, and I wasn’t absorbing details. I can’t tell you who’s got moles in weird places.”

Shinsou hunched over, grinning toothily in your face. “You’re waiting to lose your virginity to your soulmate, aren’t you?”

Pouting, you flipped over to face away from him. “Shut uuuuup. I know I’m embarrassing, but I can’t talk myself out of it.”

“Wait, hey.” The bedding rustled as he got adjusted himself, getting closer to you. “If I’ve gone too far, I’m sorry. There is no fucking shame in waiting. It’s in character for you, how you’re scared about vulnerability and how you value being intimate and romantic. I can’t make fun of you for that, genuinely.” He sat next to you, back against the wall, and he nudged your shoulder. “I’m a bit lost, though. I get the part where you’re a virgin overwhelmed by the sudden sexual atmosphere at U.A., but I fail to see the problem when you’re planning to lose your virginity to your soulmate, and odds are, you’ll meet him soon.” He paused. “Or you’ve already met him.”

Glancing over your shoulder with a sour expression, you grabbed the blue-pineappled throw blanket folded at the end of his bed and hid under it.

Instead of yanking it off, Shinsou lifted the blanket’s edge to join you underneath it, his pale skin tinged with blue in the dampened light. “C’mon,” he said, leaning over you to get a look at your face (and you tugged at the blanket to cover you more), “I’ve heard you say worse. If you don’t wanna share, that’s cool, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

Shinsou tilted his head to the side and grinned his stupid crooked grin that you were not immune to: it’s one of his expressions that made you feel at ease, like you could trust this idiot man with anything. (Which you could, but you didn’t like being reminded.)

Forcing yourself, you spoke in a small voice. “What if my soulmate wants sex immediately? I’m—I’m not ready for that. I’d have to work up to it, and what if he doesn’t have the patience?”

Shinsou laughed and brought his hand up to cover his mouth when he let out a snort. “Sounds like a shitty soulmate to me, then, if he doesn’t respect your boundaries. Any man can wait it out. We’ve don’t have two hands for nothing,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

“Thanks, I guess.” You pulled the blanket off of your heads and sat up slowly. “But I worry. What if I’m too much of a sick, touch-starved weirdo who freaks out over every single touch for my soulmate to like me?”

“Your soulmate will love you.”

“But what if he gets irritated at how much I freak out or flinch at everything?”

“You’re overthinking it. He’ll adjust, and you’ll learn, if that’s what you want.” Shinsou picked up the tennis ball and threw it against the ceiling again. “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t deserve you, and I’ll destroy him.”

“Okay,” you said, deflating. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, but the instant your temple grazed his sweater, you shot back up, eyes bulging. “What if he wants me to give him the most egregious head when I’m not—”

“All right. Fine,” he said, brow furrowed, and he shifted on the bed to kneel in front of you, staring right into your eyes. “Let’s entertain your fucking insane thoughts. Let’s say your soulmate does want to fuck you immediately. What do you want to do now about it? Can you do anything besides worry?”

You shrank back, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t know! I guess…somehow get…used to casual touching, but once again, 1) what if my tester person leaves, and 1a) it would be mean to ask someone to not feel things for me and touch me, and 2) I don’t want to burden anyone with—”

“Fuck.” The way he said it was crisp and full of reluctance, punctuated by the tennis ball hitting the ceiling. “Okay. I’ve kept something from you. Something pretty big. I can use it to help you.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you have a dildo to lend me? I think I have to refuse.”

“I haven’t been going on dates.” Shinsou shuffled about to lean back on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head (huh, that Sailor Mercury t-shirt was really tight around his bicep. Has it always been?). “You’ve seen me go out to teach people how to dom.”

“What?” You caught the tennis ball when he threw it at an odd angle. “You’ve been—who’s asked you to—”

“A fair amount of people, actually.” He sucked in through his teeth. “Won’t tell you details, of course, because part of the payment and contract includes a non-disclosure agreement. But people you know have wanted to learn how to dom or just experience being dommed, and I happen to be the perfect person to ask.” He shrugged and gestured loosely. “All I’ll say is that some people—people you know and don’t—have come to me for help with stuff like shibari and dirty talk. Or how to do anything, really, because of, quotation from client, ‘being a useless lesbian,’ unquote.”

So that’s how he can afford all those video games and imported books. Sneak. “You’re telling me—”

“That I can help you get used to physical intimacy, professionally,” said Shinsou, propping one leg over the other, twirling his socked foot in the air, “However far you want to go. However you want.”

(So those jokes about perfect dom Shinsou during girls’ nights had an inkling of truth in them? You may have to throttle some of your friends.)

You hesitated. “Hitoshi, you are my best friend—”

“Therefore, we already have an established relationship based on trust and respect, and I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I value our friendship too much. I won’t screw you over. Tear out my fucking vocal cords if I ever do.” He ran his hand back through his hair, flattening it, but it fluffed back up anyway. “I’m already unbearably fond of you, so I’m not gonna be cruel about it. It just so happens that I have the resources and skills that you’re interested in, and we’re not gonna end our friendship anytime soon. I might be a good solution for your problem—though, I have to admit, I don’t really think you have one.”

“And,” you said quietly, tossing the ball back and forth between your hands, “you don’t think my soulmate would think less of me for being touched by someone else?”

Wincing, Shinsou said, “Purity culture has chewed you up and spat you out. I’m not telling you to compromise your morals and lose your virginity to someone who’s not your soulmate, but I am saying that even if you do, it’s okay, and—and I’m just not saying that because I wanna fuck you. I’m saying that it’s okay if you experiment for what you want later with other people now. It doesn’t devalue you.” He clicked his tongue. “And nobody’s dick is good enough to alter your worth fundamentally. Anyone who says otherwise can’t find the clitoris.”

You managed a laugh at that, and you crawled up to lie next to Shinsou. He flipped his onigiri-patterned pillow over so that the cool side would face up, and he scooted it over for you to rest on, too.

“Let me continue to entertain your overthinking: even in the slim chance that your soulmate is a fuckshit who thinks less of you because you’ve fooled around before,” said Shinsou, tilting his head on the pillow to face you, “that fact will hold less and less weight the more he gets to know you. You’d be so easy to fall in love with.”

Sighing, you bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” said Shinsou, staring at the ceiling again and folding his hands on his chest, “Hell, I wish you were my soulmate. It’d make things easy, don’t you think?” He managed a quick glance towards you before returning upwards. “We already know each other so well, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being vulnerable around someone new. You’d just have me.”

“Please, Hitoshi, there’s nothing just about you. You’re so fucking lovely,” you said, imitating his position and laying your hands on your stomach, following his gaze to the lazy swing of the ceiling fan pull. “Would you—would you be grossed out by seeing me?”

“Never. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.” Shinsou twiddled his thumbs and knocked his socked foot against yours. “If it makes you feel safer, I’ll do anything to help.”

“People pay you for sessions, right? How much would I pay you?”

“What?” Raising a brow, Shinsou flipped on his side to face you. “You wouldn’t. I’m offering. Other people came to me, but I’m the one approaching you. I’m not gonna make you give me money for this.”

“But,” you said, shaking your head, “what do you get out of this, besides endless dirt on me?”

“I get to see my best friend be comfortable in her own skin. I haven’t seen that much at all, in all the time we’ve known each other,” he said, and he reached for his phone on the bedside table. “Consider it, at least. I won’t mind in the slightest if you want to or not. It’s only a way I could help quell your anxiety.”

***

YOU

all right, you schmuck

YOU

i’ve slept on it

YOU

i think i want to do it. i can rescind that at any time though

HITOSHI 💜🍡

of course

HITOSHI 💜🍡

how much time do you need?

YOU

uh. guess i’m ready whenever you are.

YOU

my dorm or yours? or somewhere else????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

I bet you’ll feel the most comfortable in your own bed

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if you’ll allow me an hour to prepare, I’ll be over soon

***

What does one wear to get dommed?

Revealing clothing? Underwear? Anything at all?

A brisk knock on your door, way too quickly, but you braced yourself and opened the door on a serious Shinsou, clad in all black (jeans and a turtleneck), hair mussed up a bit more than usual, and carrying a duffel bag. He tilted his head as he looked up and down your body, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile at your loose, cat-patterned loungewear.

“May I come in?”

You stepped aside, and he strode inside, noting the lit candle (against dorm rules, but he’s no snitch) and cherry blossom lamp, and set his duffel on the desk. As you trudged in behind him, playing with your fingers idly, he pulled out your desk chair, spun it around, and straddled it, propping his folded arms across the back.

“Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing for you to sit on your bed, “I custom build my routine for each client. What I have in mind specifically for you is drastically different from anything I’ve ever done: it’s much gentler, slower—” He held your gaze, wide and serious, and wetted his lips. “—and intimate. I will walk you through every step, and you have the power to veto anything I propose. You have all the control here. I will never be disappointed in your decisions. You are not in danger.” He gripped his opposite elbow, knuckles whitening. “I want you to know that what we do does not have to be inherently sexual. Our goal is to increase your tolerance for physical contact, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your fists clenched in your lap, “To feel at ease when people I trust touch me…I’d like to have some shred of chill by the time my soulmate comes around.”

You hoped Shinsou wouldn’t start by making you suck his dick. Judging by the way he was sitting and the bulge in his jeans, he must have a huge fucking cock (weird to think about your best friend’s genitals). Opening your mouth that wide wouldn’t feel comfortable, and you’ve already been chewing gum today, soreness already imminent.

(What’s in his bag? Is it all condoms? [That’s a lot of condoms…])

“First off,” he said, raising a finger (but for some reason he’s raised his pinkie finger to indicate one instead of his index finger, and then you’re noticing the length of just his pinkie finger and imagining how far it could go down your throat), “I’m not gonna fuck you. That’s your soulmate’s job, as you’ve established. What else are you specifically saving for your soulmate?”

Shinsou’s mouth twitched into a smirk when he noticed your narrowed eyes followed the loose gesture of his pinkie finger, and with a roll of his eyes, he returned his pinkie to his fist and raised his index finger, which had your shoulders slackening as you slumped back onto your bed, leaning back against your hands with your neck tilted back, arched at the ceiling so that you didn’t have to look him in the face.

“I’ve got, uh, reservations about the…” You shifted your weight so that you could gesture vaguely with your hands. “Mouths and hands directly on my cunt sort of thing.”

Shinsou let out a low whistle, and at that you had to break from the ceiling to see his expression: he was fucking grinning and shaking his head, his eyes a bit glassy as he scanned your own expression. “Using some crude terms, aren’t we? For a virgin.”

“Oh, come on. I’m a virgin, not ignorant,” you said, crossing your arms over your stomach and hunching over a bit to hide, “Do you want me to be clinical? I can say vagina and vulva and stuff all the time if you want me to, but cunt, at least, blurs the specificity and makes it simpler—”

“No, no, you’re good. You can sit back up; no need to hide.” Shinsou flicked that index finger in a gesture that lifted from your knees to your head, and you unfurled, pissed that he’d picked up on your body language like that—but, you supposed, that’s what he’s here for. “I was simply surprised you didn’t go for pussy. Do you want me to avoid using that term?”

“Uh.” He’s being. Thorough. Thoughtful. Why didn’t anyone else ever treat you like this? Some of your friends have such an unholy combination of words in their vocabulary that barrage you with psychic damage, and no one’s ever asked or noticed if you’ve been uncomfortable. “I think—I think if you use it sporadically, it’ll be fine.”

“All right,” said Shinsou, nodding, “So, no direct contact of my mouth or hands on your cunt.”

God, he can’t turn off teasing you for one minute? “Yeah. Though I can rescind that. I’m hoping that I might be comfortable enough down the line, but right now, I’m not.”

“Of course. I’m proud of you for recognising a boundary, even if it’s temporary. We’ll only go there if you decide you’re ready.” He blinked slowly, like a cat in a sunbeam. “Anything else only for your soulmate?”

In a bunch of stories you’ve read about hook-ups or friends-with-benefits situations, the people don’t always allow kissing, because that implies romantic feelings. You didn’t know precisely due to your lack of experience, but maybe that holds a grain of truth?

“Okay. There’s another thing I’m not sure about at the moment but is subject to change,” you said, and there’s no fucking way you’re going to look at him while you said this, so you became very invested in pulling at a hangnail, “I don’t know about—how I feel about kissing. You. On the mouth. Because what if I’m the super susceptible kind of virgin who attaches herself to the first person who shows her affection, and I fall in fucking love with you?”

“Hm. That sounds less about kissing and more about this whole situation in general,” Shinsou said with a grunt, over the sounds of his pushing up from the chair and taking the two steps to stand in front of you. “Hey. Look at me?”

He’s got nice shoes. He didn’t take them off at the door, but considering they’re scuffed, black doc martens, they may be part of his getting into character as a dom. Huh, they made his feet look long and narrow; what kind of insane socks must he be wearing under—

“I’m gonna use one hand to touch your face. Is that okay? Nod, if—thank you,” said Shinsou, and his right palm cupped your cheek, his long fingers grazing wisps of your hair and thumb over your cheekbone, and he tilted your face up to look at him.

Wincing, you averted your eyes from his, but he tapped your cheek with his thumb. “Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet—thank you,” he said, once you made yourself do it (and it was hard, harder than it had ever been whenever you’d shot him side-eye when he pulled a crap move in a co-op video game, harder than glancing towards him in class to see if he’d gotten your joke, and it left a stone sitting in your stomach, one whose full weight you didn’t care to discover). Part of not looking him in the eye was bracing yourself for his usual reprimand of you’re overthinking, but it never came. “Let’s entertain the thought of your falling in love with me,” said Shinsou with far too much ease, his lips remaining parted at the end of that heavy sentence, “Isn’t that good? Because it means that whatever part of me you fell for, you know that that’s something you want in your soulmate. It tells you more about yourself and what kind of love you want.”

Your jaw dropped on impulse, and his grin widened as he stroked your cheekbone.

“Think about your favourite characters in books and movies. Aren’t there patterns of traits in them that you’d want in your soulmate? Falling in love, in all of these frequent iterations, is just a way to learn about what you like in a partner. I know you like Prince Zuko—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, abruptly very aware of the warmth of his palm as you tried to move your face underneath it, “Are you telling me to treat you like that? Like someone disposable? Like someone who isn’t real?”

“The way you talk about Zuko does not indicate that you know he’s a goddamn cartoon,” said Shinsou, “Or, more specifically, his hands—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, screwing your face up in a pout while leaning into his hand (holy shit, leaning into his touch, a pseudo-depending on him to keep you upright—something about allowing the dependence mixed with the warmth of his scarred hands [very slight, calloused dents where he wound his capture weapon as default] had you feeling lightheaded—and then you felt stupid, because you were feeling lightheaded over a goddamn touch to your face that’s not even that delicate), “I’m not treating you like that. For you, that sounds—” You huffed, and you worked up the strength to look him in the eyes again. “—so lonely.”

Breaking the eye contact himself, Shinsou sighed, and he moved to slide his hand off of your face—but you clamped your own hand over it, first an actual clamping-type move, to get him to stay, and then lessening the pressure, to let him know he can take it off, if he really wants. “Sorry,” you said, tapping your finger on the back of his hand, “I like this. It’s easy. I can handle it, I think.”

Nodding, Shinsou kept his hand on your cheek as he grappled behind him for the chair again, and this time, he sat in it properly, with his knee grazing one of yours. “Listen. I’m used to people projecting feelings onto me. They get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, and once the scene is over, they know they don’t actually like me romantically. Post-nut clarity, y’know. So, if you want to,” said Shinsou, rubbing his thumb over your cheek and grasping one of your hands with his free one, “If you have any inclination to project feelings on me, if it does anything to make you feel more at ease, then please, do it. I want you to get to know you better.”

Project feelings. Not truly feeling them. And if you did happen to fall in love with him, then it’s only a passing thing to get to know what you want in your soulmate.

Shinsou seemed so certain that he was unlovable, and that stone in your gut burbled mournfully in stomach acid. You’d respect his decision to hide his soulmark’s name, but should he ever let it slip, you’re going to find his soulmate to prove him wrong as soon as possible.

“Okay,” you said, nodding firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Okay? You sure? Right, then,” said Shinsou, and he sat back in his chair, relishing in how you visibly grieved at the loss of his touch, and crossed his arms loosely. “Any other boundaries, hard or otherwise?”

You took a moment. “The stomach-tummy area is personal.”

“You’re insecure about it?”

“Hey—”

He waved a dismissive hand at you. “I knew that already, but it’s good to have verbal confirmation. I’ve seen the rate at which you bare that part of you, even in the light of peer pressure. Just means I know an area to lavish affection upon, when or if we get there.”

Groaning, you fell back on your bed, the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. “You’re insane for noticing that. You’re insane for noticing that. How—”

“Being aware of my environment is part of what a stealth-route hero like me has to do, sweet—” Shinsou cut himself off and frowned. “How do you feel about terms of endearment?”

“Not Jack Nicholson’s best work.”

“You piece of shit,” said Shinsou with a laugh, yanking on your duvet to make your ass fall off the edge of the bed, “I meant. I meant if you were okay with pet names, like sweetheart or baby or anything.”

You scrambled to get your ass fully back on the bed, pulling the duvet with you. “I don’t know how I’d respond if you called me anything; it’s not really a sexy word—”

“You are in for a world of trouble one day,” Shinsou said, tossing the corner of the blanket over your head (you swatted at it), “Because now I can be honest about how you behave: you’re a goddamn brat, y’know?”

“Oh, come off of it, Hitoshi; with the way we tease each other, it’s like you’ve trained me to be this way,” you said, laughing a bit as you tucked your duvet in again, but when you caught Shinsou’s eye, for some reason, his expression had completely stiffened. It only lasted for a moment, though, and he recovered in a flash.

“Well,” he drawled out, “I figured that using terms of endearment would add another layer to teasing you, and judging by how hard you’re avoiding answering me seriously, you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, sweetness?”

“I’ll kill you,” you said, hating every fibre in your being as you’d, on reflex, tensed up, halting any movement, and flushed, heat flooding your face and neck, when he’d called you that. How old are you? Old enough not to get fucking flustered at being called—

“As if you could.” He clicked his tongue. “Are any terms off-limits?”

“You can probably think up something absurd or nasty that I wouldn’t consider,” you said, “Sticking to the classics would probably be the safest.”

“All right. Anything else you think of later, as a boundary, you let me know immediately. Now, listen: unless otherwise instructed, you’re free to touch me in any way you want. I may direct you away from something, should I think you’re not ready for it.” He raised his index finger again, and he made a big show of raising a second finger from his fist. “And finally, two. This is a hard, non-negotiable rule for you: I’m not going to use my quirk on you. Ever.”

You collapsed on your bed again with a disgruntled groan. “What else is new?”

Shinsou shook his head. “I don’t want you getting the impression that just because we’re in a session that I’m going to do that to you.”

You sat up and snapped your head towards him. “You said it’s a rule for me. Do you use your quirk on other people who get you to dom them? Because, if so, I call bitch.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Shinsou hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. They ask me to, and! And,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you from protesting, “It’s nothing but a session. They’re paying me for a good time, and that’s it. But you—you’re doing this as—as something akin to therapy, I guess. I’m just a step on your journey to being intimate with your soulmate—someone you’ll be with for the rest of your life. That’s a long time to be without my quirk, if you get too used to it, in the context of being intimate. If you end up needing to be brainwashed to be vulnerable, then it’ll only stunt the physical part of your relationship with your soulmate.”

“Fuck you for making sense,” you said, mirroring his hunched-over position and nudging his knee with yours, “And as for real-life reasons for not using it? Because you’re an ass?”

Shinsou’s eyes narrowed and glinted in the cherry-blossom light. “Because imagine,” he said, reaching towards your face again (pausing a moment to ensure you were okay with it, and after you nodded, he continued) to lift your chin with nothing but his curved index finger underneath it, “if I could finally control the biggest brat in my life, and what’s more, she wants me to? Much too addicting. I wouldn’t get anything done. I’ve got to become a hero after all this; I can’t spend all my time taking care of my prettiest little girl.”

When he dropped your chin, you stayed tilted up, in the same position he left you in, throat exposed and blinking profusely as you tried to process what he’d said. Your mouth was very, very dry.

Uh.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” said Shinsou, and you jolted from your stance to see his hand clapped over his mouth, brow furrowed with the tips of his ears reddening, shoulders curved in as he slumped.

It’s about time he showed he could get flustered, too, because you’ve already embarrassed yourself just with conversation and a few touches to your face. But what the hell was he getting like that over?

Shinsou dragged his hand down his chin and formed it into a fist in his lap. “Do you know if you’re into proper Dom/Sub dynamics? Do you know if that’s something you’d like to explore? Because with the way you stayed there for me,” said Shinsou, inching towards you, his chest heaving at his steadying breath, “you could be someone’s perfect little sub someday.”

“I think so. I think I am,” you said in a small voice, “I think that’s something I might want to be—hold the fuck up. Did I manage to turn you on?”

After the tiniest moment of shrinking under your smug smile, Shinsou puffed out his chest as he sat up, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s to be expected in a session, since it’s a sexual context.”

“Oh, my God, I did it. I turned someone on. Holy shit,” you said, running your fingers back through your hair, “I think I have to call Mina. I finally did it.”

Shinsou scoffed. “Please, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve—”

“Oh?” You froze, your hand almost to your phone on your bedside table. “Say more right now? Who do you know who’s been—”

“We’ve discussed boundaries enough for this first session, since it’s not that invasive. Let’s get to the heart of the session,” said Shinsou, standing to reach around for his duffel bag, and, after unzipping it, he handed his laptop to you. “Pick out a movie.”

You tilted your head as Shinsou trudged back to your door to untie his doc martens. “Excuse me?”

“I should already be logged in. Check my bookmarks bar for streaming sites,” he called from your door.

Shrugging to yourself, you slipped his laptop from his Put Your Hands Up Radio sleeve (leftover merch that wouldn’t sell; you had one as well) and opened it to search for a movie, automatically shifting over on your bed to the spot where you sat when the two of you watched something and blindly reaching for your throw blanket.

“Now, did I tell you to do that?” asked Shinsou as he rounded the corner again to see you settling into the usual routine, and after retrieving some water bottles from his duffel, he stood by your bedside table, where he put the water while bouncing on the balls of his feet (plain black socks. He is taking this seriously). “I’m not your friend right now, sweetheart; I’m your dom.” The same hand cupped your same cheek as earlier, and he briefly ran his thumb over your cheekbone before returning his hand to behind his back. “All I did was tell you to pick out a movie, and while I’m pleased you can extrapolate from incomplete information, it’s not what I want you doing right now. Sit back where you were.”

Holding your breath, you scooted back to the middle of the bed, where you’d been sitting on the edge, computer in your lap. What have you gotten yourself into? Was this what your best friend was really like? Has he had some sort of issue with your movie nights up until now?

Shinsou sat at the head of the bed, but he took up the whole space instead of sitting in his normal spot. He held out his hand for the laptop, and he placed it, cracked open, on your bedside table, moving your phone out of the way.

And then he fucking spread his legs.

“C’mon, sweet girl, sit back against me,” he said, patting a thigh with one hand and extending the other towards you, “I know you can do it. Come here.”

I know you can do it felt condescending here. Of course you can do it. It’s nothing but sitting between his legs instead of next to him. Very simple. Mind-bogglingly simple. So, it felt patronising and unnecessary that he would pull out that line for something so easy, this early in the game.

That didn’t mean you didn’t like it.

This was his idea of a first session? You were so pathetic that he felt the need for you to practise sitting between a man’s legs? Shut the fuck up.

Penis. You might touch a rascally ol’ penis, even if it’s through layers and layers of fabric. Inch resting.

You’ve never been fucking held. What if you cry, or something?

Which, oh, yikes, oof, makes your second point make a bit of sense.

Steeling yourself, you crawled the two feet towards him, but you hesitated before turning around: he’d parted his legs ever wider while you’d crawled back, so none of him was touching you at the moment, giving you still a chance to back out before it began.

“If it helps,” he said, tired eyes half-lidded, “think of me as your soulmate.”

Swallowing, you managed to nod just barely, and you turned.

At first, you’d tried to have some space between you and Shinsou, but he’d helped position you, guiding you with his large hands on your hips to have your ass snug against his pelvis (and yeah, the penis was there), hips framed by his inner thighs (since when have his thighs been bigger than yours? And his were all muscle), and he slid his hands up to your waist and ribcage to keep your back pressed against his chest. Once he had you all pressed against him the way he liked, Shinsou set his chin on your shoulder, startling you, but he petted away your alarm at your waist, a gruntled huff of hot air at your ear while he grounded you.

“You can tell me at any time if you get too stiff or want to change to a different position, but you’re staying in my arms tonight,” said Shinsou, untangling one arm from around your waist to reach for the laptop, “I thought cuddling would be a good start for you—full-bodied vulnerability, but you don’t necessarily have to look me in the eyes for it, and you can feel safe knowing I’ve got you. You’re held; you’re not in any danger.”

He placed the laptop on your knees. “Now, knowing your sense of humour, you’ve picked out Terms of Endearment.” Instead, he opened it to the title screen for a Zuko-centric episode of The Last Airbender. “All right, that’s fair.” You heard him laughing through his nose behind you before returning his chin to your shoulder.

Initially, you couldn’t concentrate on Zuko’s rippling pectorals for once in your life, because there was a man holding you and his dick was right there. Not, like, hard or anything, but it was present, just something extra to press against your ass. Eventually, it became less about the cock and more about being held, which was fucking intoxicating and warm and made you feel so small and safe, and that was out of the ordinary for you. The small huffs of Shinsou’s laughter in your ear through his occasional commentary (really kind of him to talk through a movie, like he normally did, instead of staying in dom mode, you thought. Helped you relax).

But even the movie night had to be cut short. Five minutes into the third episode, you’d finally cosied into his arms—dare you say, feeling like you could handle this thing called cuddling—when Ojiro and Hagakure started going at it next door. Hardly a full minute had elapsed between their clamouring down the hallway, the slamming shut of her door, and what sounded like a kabedon and something immediately plunging into Hagakure, based on her moans. Probably fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope they were fooling around in public beforehand, so she’s at least gotten some prep,” you said, as Shinsou shut the laptop.

“We’ll continue this another time,” said Shinsou, setting it aside, and he, moving to kneel, guided your hips forward to turn you around to face him. “Was this okay?”

You shot him a double thumbs-up. “Excellent first step. New but safe, facilitated by a variation of something we’re already used to.”

“Something we’re already used to,” he repeated under his breath, for some reason, barely audible over Ojiro’s tail thwacking the shared wall. He reached for both his laptop sleeve and a water bottle for you, and he started packing his stuff away.

You twisted off the cap to break the seal. “Are we gonna do something different next time?”

“I think we’re going to do this a couple more times so that being held is no longer a sort of event in your mind, adding some minor variety so that you don’t get overwhelmed, before we move onto something completely different.”

Wiping water off of your mouth with the back of your hand, you bit your lip. “You’re being so kind to me. So patient. Considerate.”

He shot you a look from where he was zipping up his duffel. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” you said, holding the bottle in both hands, “Don’t most of your clients, like, choke on your cock within fifteen minutes of starting?”

His back was to you as he fiddled with a side pocket, and it took him a beat to reply. “Believe it when I tell you that I am delighted you’re letting me walk at your own pace.”

***

You were completing the world’s most pathetic checklist.

Holding hands? Check.

Cuddling? Check.

Spooning cuddling? Check.

Being able to look a man in the eyes while he tenderly cupped your face with both hands and told you nice things about you? Check—though that one took a lot out of you.

Were you embarrassing? Maybe a bit, but you couldn’t talk yourself out of being who you were, and Shinsou didn’t seem to want to, either.

You allowed yourself to curl up into yourself in the café booth, hiding yourself in the back while you propped your forehead against the exposed brick of the back wall. Lately, Shinsou had been directing you away from hiding your body and making yourself smaller when you felt ashamed, and damn it, you understood how he was trying to be helpful, but sometimes you just didn’t want to be perceived.

This session was the first public outing—a practise date, he’d called it. Practise for showing small, safe gestures of affection out in public. He’d dressed up in another all-black outfit again, as usual, because he’d emphasised that he had to get in character, to get out of “Best Friend Shinsou” mode. He’d even made a hype playlist, but he refused to show it to you yet.

He’d picked a café that you’d never been to so that you wouldn’t have to worry about the staff at your regular places judging you, and once again, you’re struck by how kind Shinsou was. If he were this level of considerate with all of his clients, no wonder they kept coming back to him. To be able to stop worrying, to leave it all to someone who took such pains to ensure your comfort and safety, who made your decisions for you—it’s goddamn inebriating.

Huh, it’s taking him a while to get menus. You tapped your fingernails in a ripple on the table where he’d parked you. Where was he? Twisting around, you scanned the open café area but recognised no one. How do you lose someone with purple troll hair?

Oh, he was rounding the corner of the dessert case, coming out of the hallway with the bathrooms, and he…he was talking to someone you’d never seen before, way shorter than he was with pastel pink hair and enormously puffy, white earrings. Even from the back corner booth, the way her face lit up as she spoke to him charmed you.

Shinsou was smiling, too, a pensive sort of wryness crossing his face as he snatched two menus from the basket up front, his brow furrowing when he had to shake a sticky third one off. Her elegant face pinched up when Shinsou unstuck the remaining two, and he gestured towards the booth where you were sitting. Oh, the fabric on this chair was absolutely fascinating, all of a sudden, and you kept plucking at it until Shinsou’s doc martens appeared in your view.

“I apologise for taking so long,” said Shinsou, sliding in next to you instead of across from you like a normal person, and he offered a menu.

You took it, rubbing the tacky plastic film. “It’s fine. Why sit next to me? It’s a booth, not the Last Supper.”

“It’s so we can hold hands, you muppet,” said Shinsou, and he promptly laced his fingers between yours and rested your hands on the table between you. As he laid the menu flat on the table, he returned the pink-haired woman’s wave as she exited the café, squeezing your hand as he did so.

“Care to enlighten me?” You scanned the drinks section, honing in on the coffee.

He flipped over the menu. “I can tell you she went by Mawata, with me. Not giving you the family name, mind. Signed the contract.”

Who would pay that much for a café au lait? Bougie. Perhaps even pretentious. “I see.”

“She recognised the getup and assumed I was in a session. I didn’t want to betray your trust, so I told her I was on a date. Which isn’t far from the truth.”

“I see,” you said, this time more strangled.

“Do you know what you want to order yet?”

“Almost.”

“Good,” he said, releasing your hand and scooting closer to you, “because we’re going to try doing something a step further. I—”

“Fucking go for it,” you said, peeking at the other side of the menu.

Shinsou faltered. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve kept me safe so far,” you said, shooting him a smile, “I trust—”

Mawata was bursting back into the café, the bell on the door ringing rather violently, and rushing back to your booth, her puffy earrings swaying erratically. Shinsou turned himself towards you, taking up space and shielding you the best he could by the time she skidded to a stop at your table, her kitten heels leaving a scuff on the tile.

“When can I hire you again?” she asked, breathless, “I’m assuming she knows.” She didn’t even spare a glance towards you.

Bracing himself, Shinsou turned his head in her direction, still hovering over you. “Now’s not exactly the best time.”

Mawata fidgeted with her purse strap. “I know I’m being rude, but holy shit. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ll be rude if it means I get to see you again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t let you go now that there’s a chance again. Even if I have to pay you, I have to have you in my life. There’s no consistent way to contact you, so it feels like fate that I met you today.”

While Mawata rambled, Shinsou turned towards you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, and, wincing, he shot you an apologetic look, eyebrows raised. You didn’t know what was coming, but you nodded. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he mouthed thank you, and for a brief moment, as he turned back to her, you caught a hardened expression you’ve never seen on your best friend.

“Mawata,” he said, stone cold and callous and chilling, “It sounds like you’ve broken one of my rules.”

She flinched, the movement shuddering through her whole body and bobbling her earrings, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, her head bowed and fists tight on her purse strap. A choked whimper escaped her as she took a shaky, shallow breath.

The distressing, empty space in which Shinsou waited for her to answer caused you to tense up behind him, and without looking back, he fucking skimmed his fingers over your thigh, cool as you please, until he could place his spread palm across it. Lightly, at first, a barely-there touch, but—you had to give him some sort of signal, so you grazed your thumb over the back of his hand—after he had your approval, he let the full weight of his hand rest on your thigh, gently tapping his fingers on the fabric of your jeans.

Good. Considerate, attentive Shinsou was still there, underneath whoever the fuck he was being now.

Her choppy, straight bangs shielded her eyes as she kept her head down. “I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

Sir?! Sir?!

That’s fucking Hitoshi. Hitoshi, who talks in a high-pitched voice to cats and encourages Eri to decorate his face with stickers. Hitoshi, who can’t always remember to take the tin foil off of his leftovers before putting them in the microwave. Hitoshi, your best friend, who’s got his goddamn hand on your thigh.

(Hand cover…so much…of thigh. Big hand. Big hand good. Big hand safe. Big hand hold you.)

([Good God, woman, pull yourself together. It’s just a hand on your thigh.])

(But there is nothing just about Shinsou, is there?)

Shaking his head, Shinsou clicked his tongue. “And I’m sure you do. I want you to say what rule you’ve broken—and I know which one you have; you can’t hide from me. I’ve been in your brain; I know how you think. I want you to admit it. And I want you to tell me what you’re doing wrong now because of it. If you can’t even say it, I no longer know you.” He lifted his chin as he stared her down, and even from behind, you can tell that he’s giving her that cold glare that made anyone shatter—you’ve only seen it in training, and it’s never been used against you. “You know what you signed. Say it.”

“I—I’ve developed feelings for you,” she managed to say.

“And?”

“And that means, by contract, I can’t see you again.”

“And?”

“And!” Mawata inhaled sharply, shifting her jaw as she raised her head to look him in the eye and chickened out, instead focusing on the table. “And by approaching you in public with another client, you’re gonna fucking blacklist me with the others across the fucking city. But sir, you said you were on a date, and I didn’t know you did that now, and I want that—”

“Not quite. I’m not out with a client,” Shinsou said evenly, squeezing your thigh under the table, “I’m out with my girlfriend. Which is a greater transgression on your part, wouldn’t you say? We’re done here.” Shinsou nodded once and gave a dismissive wave, and she bolted out of the shop.

Shinsou turned to you, expression soft, posture crumpling, and hands lifting to cup your face, and he babbled apologetically. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to see that. Mawata’s violated contract before by badgering Kaminari for my personal number, but that doesn’t immediately blacklist her; it got her put on a probation list. I’m sorry. I tried to get rid of her the best I could at first, but it didn’t work, and I’m so fucking sorry you had to see me like that. I would never treat you like that, sweetheart; you mean too much to me. Please believe me when I say that what you saw was just a continuation of the dynamic established between Mawata and me and that I would never—” He cut himself off and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.”

Hello! I would like to address girlfriend. Are we going to do that?

(Well, you figured, in the moment in which you cracked your eyes open to watch Shinsou’s unfairly long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, that using girlfriend was a firm way to establish that Mawata was not wanted there.

Plus, he had said earlier that he hadn’t revealed you were a pseudo-client, so it may have been a confidentiality thing. Even though you never signed anything. That’s Shinsou for you, being a step ahead in caring for you.)

“Hitoshi, it’s fine,” you said, placing your hands over his and bringing them down into your lap, “I get it. You did what you had to. Yes, you scared me a bit, but some part of it was also hot. You let me know you were still there.”

Shinsou pulled back to garner your expression, and, after seeing something that he evidently liked, he bent to put his forehead on your shoulder. “So, the hand on your thigh was good?”

“Very. I appreciate that you did it through clothes for this first try. Not as startling.” Since Shinsou has been so good to you, you bolstered enough courage to comfort him back: you tentatively raised a hand to run it through his hair, scratching at the base of his skull, and the man fucking groaned, snuggling down into your shoulder and getting as close as he could to your neck without going past your collar (you hadn’t gotten to neck stuff yet, which, as you noted it, may be the dumbest fucking thing about yourself). “She mentioned others? I’m assuming other hired doms?”

“More or less,” said Shinsou, his voice grumbling, “I don’t really see much of them. Mostly at the start, when I was learning how to do BDSM stuff myself. Making sure what I was doing was safe. Helped me with legal stuff. I don’t wanna be sued or arrested for any of this, y’know.”

“Don’t tell me Aizawa-sensei’s involved. You can just look at that fucker and tell he’s into tying people up and brat-taming.”

“All right,” said Shinsou with a muffled laugh, “I won’t tell you.”

“Holy shit. That’s our professor—”

“No, c’mon, keep scratching. Go on. Let’s see what I can tell you,” said Shinsou, “He’s never been one of the employees proper, but he has provided some educational materials—yes, on shibari. Thank God someone else is now burdened with this information.”

“Think he was affected from the soulmate quirk?”

“If he does, his soulmate’s in for it,” said Shinsou, whining a bit when you moved away from the base of his skull, and he plopped your hand back there to keep scratching. “He fucking needs someone to take care of. And to take care of him. Fuck, he’s a mess.” He sighed into your shirt. “Speaking of, I’ve got an escort mission with him and the rest of the stealth-focused group in about a week, so we won’t be able to have a proper session. Odds are, I’ll be prepping with the rest of the students, so we won’t see much of each other at all.”

“Remind me who’s studying stealth?”

“Bakugou and Aoyama. Oh, and Todoroki’s been shoved in our group, since he’s hopeless at PR, according to Kayama-sensei. Don’t know how that’ll affect our current group dynamic, but I look forward to working with him. Midoriya can’t say enough good things about him.” Shinsou dragged himself away from your shoulder. “So, I’m sorry we won’t be seeing each other as much. I’ll text you when I can.”

“I’ve got stuff with Present Mic to work on. It’s fine. That just means I get to hang out with Dango instead of you, right?”

“Stop bragging,” he said, and he pointed at the menu as he stood. “Time to tell me your first and second choices for your order. I’ll get the second one, so you can try some of it.”

“Wow, someone’s a slave to routine,” you said, indicating what you wanted, “If I hadn’t seen your performance just then, I’d say that your dom persona is the same as typical Hitoshi.”

His eyes glinted strangely as he smirked and gathered the menus to put them away. “Is it?”

***

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou is bitching about the quality of aoyama’s trail mix

HITOSHI 💜🍡

says it’s shit

HITOSHI 💜🍡

he’s made us trail mix that he considers good. we have spent a considerable amount of this mission prep meeting debating what qualifies good trail mix.

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou, I mean

YOU

idk man i thought aoyama’s trail mix was pretty fucken tasty

HITOSHI 💜🍡

why am I not surprised you’re the one who ate most of it last night

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if they ask where it went, I won’t tell

***

The day of Shinsou’s escort mission, you were out shopping for a plant for him. “I mean, you’re extremely attentive with people and cats,” you were saying, your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you checked the price on the bottom of a zinnia starter, “but something tells me you will forget a plant is real.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, jackass,” came Shinsou’s voice over the phone, “I could keep up with something like a succulent. Or bamboo. I bet bamboo would fucking thrive in my dorm.”

“Bamboo requires frequent watering and heavy sunlight, actually,” you said, moving on to non-flowering plants, “So that thing would fucking die the instant it crosses your threshold.”

“Distressing things to hear,” said Shinsou, and you heard Aizawa’s voice and Shinsou’s distant response. “Gotcha. Listen, I’ve got to go. The plane’s scheduled to land in five minutes, so I’ve got to focus. Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Good luck!”

“Thanks. You, too, with the plant. Bye,” he said, but he didn’t hang up. You figured he meant to and just didn’t. Your thumb hovered the end call button, but when you strained to hear Aizawa’s and Bakugou’s voices and Shinsou’s closer replies through the phone, you elected to stay on the call.

Putting it on speaker and into your front pocket, you wandered through the garden section moving into the sheltered area as thunder rumbled, fingering at the textures of leaves, and admiring colours. Having him on speaker like this, even if it were just mission talk, felt like he was here with you, and you haven’t hung out with him in over a week—and now with the frequency of both friend hangouts and soulmate-prep sessions, his absence left you with an emptiness, an ache curling into your gut that pinched at your insides. This morning, you’d awoken feeling like you’d been kicked in the chest, so that’s why you risked calling him, even though he was out on a mission, and when you heard his voice, the ache disappeared.

None of these succulents were bitchy enough.

You covered your mouth as you laughed: what if you got him a fake plant and never told him?

You meandered inside as the rain picked up. Talk about radio signals scrambling came through as you debated the merits of a fake blossom on a fake cactus, and you turned the volume down in case you gave away confidential information to the few other losers in a home improvement store this early in the day. It’s a good thing you did, because otherwise, the sound of the airport explosion would’ve scared someone other than you out of your skin.

You ran back outside where you could yell, even though you might not be heard over the pouring rain. “Hitoshi?! ’Toshi, are you there? Say anything! Please!” He never responded to you, but you could hear yelling—not from him, but from Aizawa, from Bakugou, from Aoyama—and heavy cracking and crumbling you couldn’t tell if it were from a building collapsing or thunder rolling.

God, he’s not going to respond, is he? He didn’t know he’s still on a call—but you can track his location, right? Oh, my—fucking.

Staying on the call on your way back to U.A., you sent Shinsou’s location to Present Mic as soon as you could, saying you were headed back. Mic shot back a thumbs-up, since he couldn’t interrupt your call, said you should go give keep tracking with campus security, and that the location has been the biggest help so far in finding the team. They’re buried underneath airport rubble, and your connection with Shinsou’s phone is the only clue they have. Even if his phone isn’t buried—and it probably isn’t, since it has signal—it’s their best chance so far of being found.

The ride back to U.A. had you jolting at any little outside stimulus (and you had to keep apologising to people on the train for not having headphones), but all you could do once you reached security was keep listening. Ages and ages and ages of faint sirens, pelting rain, and shifting wreckage, with you crying so much that one of the security workers felt bad enough for you that they bought you a drink from a vending machine.

And then—as you’re screwing the lid onto your empty bottle—the crunching of footsteps. A distant, “Oh, sweet,” and the grappling of his leather glove around his phone. But something in your gut told you to keep silent. To keep this to yourself. Glancing over your shoulder to the final, straggling security worker at the far computer, you borrowed a pair of earbuds and hid your phone.

Shinsou must have put his phone in his pocket (the one on the side of his chest, based on how close his voice sounded) without looking at the screen, because the call kept going.

“No, say that again,” came Shinsou’s voice, exasperation prevalent, “What happened while they were underground?”

“Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki were all affected by Serendipity’s quirk, but they’ve worked their way out of it,” said Aizawa, more gruffly than usual, or perhaps that was just the thunderstorm interfering with the sound coming through. “Listen. Don’t ask them for details and just be glad you’d been confined elsewhere. But we’ve got to peel Bakugou off Serendipity’s back before he breaks it and get her to Sakura Grove now.”

The relief at their voices triggered exhaustion, and you slumped in your seat, head down on the desk. God, you’ll take all this bullshit about travelling and escorting to this sakura place or whatever. It’s good to hear him talk. You’d listen in forever, so long as he was there. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk. Something in your gut screamed for you not to.

Actual, informative dialogue picked up when they’d apparently arrived at this Sakura Grove place, rushing through security to find Midnight and the team prepared to control Serendipity. You managed to smile at the sound of all of their boots clacking against tile. Lots of running, it seemed, even before they split up.

Shinsou was the one to find Midnight and frantically updated her, all out of breath. “—and Aizawa-sensei’s got her contained in the main waiting room, but he can’t keep her for much longer—”

“Listen,” Midnight interrupted, “I can’t have Ito and Serendipity be in the same room. Watch her while I take care of this. She can’t do anything more to you, so—” Her voice grew faint.

And at last, silence again.

Eventually, a woman’s voice came over the speaker. “Nice tits.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t stare at my chest,” said Shinsou, and you fucking laughed under your breath, shoulders heaving. You folded your arm to use as a pillow on the desk and smiled loosely as you listened in.

“Who are you? She said Ito, but that doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Yet what she said told me so much.”

Shinsou paused. “What d’you mean?”

“That I can’t do anything more to you. Tells me you’ve met me before. Inhaled my quirk.”

Shinsou took a deep breath, as if to remember. “You broke into U.A.” Heavy exhale. “You ruined my goddamn life.”

“Want to sit down and talk? They’ve set up a lovely sitting room here, really. Seems a shame not to put that great ass to use.”

“Please stop objectifying me,” said Shinsou, sighing (and you could picture him running his hand back through his hair, with it bouncing back instantly), “Fine. Fine, I’ll talk. I know someone who likes having information. I’ve got to kill time, anyway.”

Shuffling. The creak of a chair.

“Why don’t you start with how I’ve ruined your life?”

“Take a fucking look at this.” The sounds of velcro and thick fabric being adjusted, and then silence.

“Okay,” said Ito slowly, “It’s a name.”

“It’s my fucking name, jerkass. Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost over it? How am I supposed to deal with this? Am I doomed to be alone? Am I supposed to cry while jerking off for the rest of my life? Is that what the love I have amounts to? Because—and not that I would fucking want this, but even if there were another Shinsou Hitoshi, it probably wouldn’t be spelled with the same kanji, so fuck with that, if you will.”

More fabric shuffling, as Ito spoke. “I bet it would be difficult to find another Shinsou written as chastity and honest.”

“Yeah, my parents are insane. Bet they’d be disappointed in me, if they knew what I was doing concerning chastity and honesty. Has your quirk created something like this before? Is there a way to fix me?” Shinsou’s voice cracked.

“Well, let’s backtrack. There may not be anything to fix.”

“So, you have seen this before?”

“No, but I’d like to cover all my bases,” said Ito, “How bad is the pain? Are you at the level where you pass out yet?”

A beat. “What pain?” Another. “Stop staring at my tits. Pecs.”

“This is funny. You’re funny.” You could hear the smile in Ito’s voice. “Good thing I like funny. I crave funny. Did you know I have no contact with the outside world except through letters?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“They keep packets of cheese crackers somewhere in one of these drawers. Will you help me find some?”

Shuffling. Wooden drawers opening and shutting. Crinkling of plastic.

“You’re not feeling the pain because you’ve already met your soulmate,” said Ito through a mouthful of cheese cracker, “If you hadn’t met them, you’d be in fuckin’ agony. All achy, and shit.”

“I can hardly see how I could avoid meeting myself.”

“Okay, cut the bullshit, smartass. My quirk doesn’t work like that, unless you’re attracted to yourself.”

The sound of chewing, up close and personal. “God, no. I hate myself.”

“Then you have a soulmate, and you’ve met them. Easy as that.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said Shinsou.

“Oh, get fucked. You’re a young hero affected by my quirk, who has associations with Midnight, and you haven’t read my team’s notes on my quirk? You’re not employing all your resources,” said Ito, crunching.

“Someone who read it told me pertinent details,” Shinsou protested.

“Not pertinent to you, it appears. Not that it matters how my quirk works, I suppose. Just be assured that you have a soulmate who’s not you, and you’ve met them. Since you’re not feeling any pain at all, it sounds like they’ve accepted you in some way. Acknowledged you with some sign of affection. Depending on how obvious they are, you may be an idiot.”

“Fuck,” came Shinsou’s whisper, “I’ve been in some…situations recently. There are a number of candidates.” Crinkling of plastic and chewing. “But I still don’t get how my own name as a soulmark works.”

“Bitch, you’re overthinking.”

And Shinsou laughed. Hard. Hearing it made up for all the distress you’ve been under today. His laugh always sounded a bit higher than his speaking voice, like it hasn’t been through as much or like it’s well-rested.

“Got a preference for who it is?” Ito asked.

 Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Perfect. Then we can start from there. I can help you find out who it is, by process of elimination.”

“Hey, give me your trash.” Footsteps, there and back again, and the sinking back into the cushy chair. “Why would you help me? You’re a villain, and I’m a trainee-hero you just met.”

“Whatever is going on with you is pathetic and hilarious, and like I said, I like funny. What’s more, I like conclusions to stories,” she said, “and yours, I feel, is going to be marvellously, gloriously stupid. I wanna hear it when it happens.”

Shifting in his seat. “You can get letters? All right.” More shifting. “But what if my soulmark is broken, and I don’t have an ending?”

“Okay, then I’ll take payment now.”

“I think I want to back out—”

“Relax, asshole. I’ll help you,” said Ito, “All you have to do is describe what body part on a woman you prefer.”

“That’s all?”

A beat. “You look like a feet guy.”

“I do fucking not.”

“You’ve got the mouth for it.”

It sounded like Shinsou pushed himself up out of his chair. “Y’know, I think I can live without your help.”

“My dude, I have already established that I am desperate for humour in my life, and even from our brief interaction, you have revealed yourself to be wonderful to tease. Sorry for accusing you of being a foot fetishist. Didn’t mean it. Sit back down?”

A pause. He must have sat and chosen his words carefully. “You usually shield your chest or genitals when someone’s threatening you when you’re physically vulnerable, yeah? What’s left unprotected, though…I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck. Sensual and intimate. Satisfying. I’m betting—kissing the back of it, even when she expects is, is going to make her jump out of her skin. I can’t fucking wait. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

“Something’s wrong with you. Really.”

“I happen to be—normal. Normal and well-adjusted.”

“You’re into necks and not into choking?” Ito tutted. “Even with your BDSM hero costume?”

“Choking is when something’s caught inside your throat. Technically, what people have taken to doing in bed is a type of strangulation.”

“Way to bring the conversation down, fusspot.”

“I did what you asked and answered honestly,” said Shinsou, “I think we should skip the rest of the part in which you make fun of me and proceed to where you actually help.”

“Sure. First, we’ll need an airtight container.” Another pause.

Shinsou made a frustrated noise. “If you’re really that desperate to stare at men’s tits, my friend Bakugou is in the lobby, and his are way bigger than mine.”

“No, it’s—I get that you’re all posh, since you’re a U.A. student, but I’m assuming even a hero’s BDSM costume isn’t supposed to glow in the chest area. Or at least, only one side of it.”

“What are you—oh, shit, that’s my—”

The call ended.

***

What were you supposed to do? Pretend you weren’t on the phone, obviously, but moreover, how could you possibly help Shinsou find his soulmate when his soulmark was his own name?

Monoma was no help solving anything, but at least he was good company when everyone else was making out (you missed when people played video games in public instead of dry-humping). He and you were caring for Eri that afternoon, since Aizawa, Shinsou, and the rest had to go in for documentation.

Eri pressed a pawprint sticker (from that cat café Aizawa frequented) onto your cheek. “They’re in love,” she said.

“Who?” Monoma asked from his place on the floor, lying down with his legs straight up to rest against the couch.

“Konpeito and Dango,” she said, pointing to the two cats cuddling together on the middle couch cushion, “See how they’re yin and yang?” From above, she was right, ish. Konpeito and Dango certainly had the swish-shapes fitting together in a circle, if not the entirely correct colourings.

“I’m glad they finally went to sleep,” you said, choosing a coffee mug sticker for Eri to put on you next.

Eri nodded gravely. “If Dad-sensei finds the pottery pieces in the trash, I’ll tell him a shark did it. I don’t want him to make Konpeito move out.”

Monoma caught your eye and stifled a laugh, but you didn’t know if it were for Dad-sensei or the shark. “Eri,” he said, checking his phone for the time, “Do you know what’s going on with the room at the end of the hall?”

Frowning, Eri pursed her lips. “Dad-sensei lives there. Is something wrong with it?”

“I should’ve been more specific; I apologise. I meant the empty that been used for storage so far, on the other side where no one goes,” said Monoma, stowing his phone in his pocket, “Room 310, I think. It’s okay if you don’t know, Eri.”

“Oh,” said Eri, peeling off the coffee mug sticker, “I don’t know much. Dad-sensei and All Might-sensei have been talking about it sometimes.” She smoothed it out across the inside of your forearm. “I think someone like me is going to move into that room, but not for a long, long time from now. I hope they like cats. Can I see your words again?”

Monoma shared a sympathetic look with you and became busy with bothering the cats, allowing you the space to stretch the neck of your shirt down far enough to the middle of your left shoulder blade for Eri to read your soulmark.

“Ice princess,” she said, bafflement creeping in, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I know, kiddo,” you said, “but I used to be a bit mean. It used to fit me.”

“When?”

“When I first started going to U.A.,” you said, “Before the first sports festival, especially. Even though I was shy, I remember being very protective of the few friends I’d made in 1-A at that point. Maybe I had a bad day and was mean about it. Mean about the way I was protecting my friends, or something. I don’t really know, Eri. I don’t know what my soulmark means.”

“Can I copy it? I want to practise writing ice princess.” At your consent, she told you to wait while she got some paper, and you waited more while she carefully copied down the kanji for that part of your soulmark. She presented the paper to you when she was done.

Cute. Adorable. Her basic penmanship made your confusing, harsh words into something endearing. Except. “Hey, Eri, I think you’ve written the kanji for forever here, instead of ice. See how you’ve put two little strokes at the top? Ice only has one.”

“Oh! Thank you very much. The handwriting on your back is all squished, so it’s hard to see all the strokes.” She corrected her kanji on the sheet at the same time that Monoma’s head snapped towards yours, both pairs of eyes bulging (clown to clown communication).

Handwriting.

Eri carefully copied the corrected kanji again and stopped to admire her writing. “Even if you don’t understand it, I still think it’s good.” She wrote her name at the bottom and turned the paper around to show the both of you. “Do I get a soulmate someday?”

You hid your sorrow, and Monoma answered for you. “I hope to God you don’t.”

***

Instead of breaking off towards Class B’s dormitory after dinner, like he normally did, Monoma followed you up the stairs of Class A’s dorm.

“Ah, ha, who are you going to see? Shinsou and I have a movie night,” you said, lying about the session you were going to his room for, “so you must have made a friend.”

“Hilarious. A lie and an attempt at a blow to my ego,” said Monoma, stuffing his hands in his pockets, as he trotted up the stairs behind you, “No, I’m attending Shinsou’s little session, the same as you are.”

“Fuck it all to hell,” you said, halting on the top step, “Did everyone know about that except for me?”

“Chill, I learnt about it two days ago when Shinsou asked for my help. Keep going; he’ll explain it when we get there,” said Monoma, passing you to hold the stairway door open.

Shinsou was waiting for the both of you. He opened his door before you could knock twice and ushered you in. You expected Monoma to make some comment about Shinsou’s clothes (you think he’s got outfits on rotation, but since a fair chunk of his wardrobe is black, anyway, it’s hard to tell) or his serious vibes, but Monoma didn’t say a word or make any condescending expressions. For once, it seemed, he was quiet and subdued, hands in his pockets and standing behind you, waiting.

“Monoma’s here to help,” said Shinsou, stepping forward to curl his long fingers into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp (your eyes fluttered shut, and you struggled to keep them from crossing and rolling back; you have definitely been denying yourself the simple pleasure of someone playing with your hair: safe but immensely satisfying), “If you don’t want him here, or if you don’t want him to see a thing you do, he’s out of here before anything can happen. Either way, he’s sworn to secrecy about this entire ordeal. He owes me, and I’m paying him. And I know you already feel fairly comfortable around him. He’s on his better-than-best behaviour.”

“I trust you,” you said, and Shinsou pulled this strange move where he lifted his hands just barely while he was still cupping your head to scratch it, and you rose to your tiptoes to follow him—the move, paired with his blunt nails on your scalp, had you feeling lightheaded, and you’ve only been here for about a minute (calm the fuck down, babe). “If you think Monoma will help me grow, then I’ll do it. Within reason.”

“All right. You can back out at any time, remember? Okay. Monoma, you first. On the bed.”

On the bed? Are you sure, Shinsou?

Monoma peeled off his TinTin socks and climbed onto Shinsou’s bed to sit at the head of it, and he contorted himself to pull his phone out of his back pocket to set it on the bedside table.

“Go on, then,” Shinsou said softly, prodding your lower back, “Sit between his legs. Just like you’ve done for me.”

Oof. Someone other than Shinsou? I mean. You guessed if it had to be someone other than Shinsou, you’d be the most comfortable around Monoma, but still. It’s as if there’s a heightened layer of friendship with you and Shinsou; it’s different than the relationship you have with Monoma and the relationships with other guys. Somehow, this felt weird.

“Okay, boss,” you said as a joke, and you watched Monoma for any of his many micro-expressions for a shred of disdain or judgment, as if he would tease you for calling Shinsou a title in a sensual/sexual context, even as a joke, but Monoma’s face was placid. No outward signs of malice. Instead, he made room for you between his legs, silent and languid all the way.

“Hee hoo ha,” you said instead of actually laughing, a knee on the mattress. “I suppose you’re aware that this is, like, second base for me. For the state I’m in. I’m fuckin’ calling you Neito from now on, now that you’re witnessing me being a slut.”

There’s no snide comment. Eyes-half lidded, Monoma calmly nodded, resting his hands on his thighs. “If that’s what you want.”

Oh, holy shit. Shinsou must have talked to him about how sensitive/delicate you were about this situation. Either that, or the pay is just that good.

Worried, you glanced back at Shinsou, but he just gestured with a loose flick of his fingers for you to keep going. So, you found yourself easing into a different man’s arms, and it’s instantly a list of comparisons: thighs still framing your pelvis but nowhere nearly as thick or long as Shinsou’s (and that tracked with what Monoma’s told you about how he wants a twink gymnast’s physique for his manoeuvrability in battle, along with Shinsou’s having seven centimetres on Monoma height-wise), somehow colder than Shinsou, not giving off as much body heat, his chin not fitting as well into the divot on your shoulder as Shinsou’s did—but his arms slid around your waist the same way Shinsou’s did, down to the positioning of what hand overlapped on top—Shinsou must have given specific instructions.

You figured that you don’t feel as safe as you feel when Shinsou’s holding you because Shinsou was bigger than you: bigger in presence, really, over physicality—though certain parts of him were objectively bigger, like how fucking long his fingers were and the overall size of his hands. Monoma, though, didn’t give as much of a large presence, but Monoma had said before that being unimposing and nimble worked better for him strategically. Either way.

Wow, yeah, Monoma really was holding you just like Shinsou did, without space between your legs and his, with his arms snugly around the upper curve of your waist, and his mouth pressed—but not puckered or kissing (a polite boy)—to your shoulder, on the shirt collar as close to the bare skin of your neck as possible without touching it.

“Fishy,” you said, glaring at Shinsou while tapping Monoma’s hand at your waist.

“I’m glad you noticed. Good detail work,” said Shinsou as he stowed away the Put Your Hands Up Radio laptop sleeve, and he crawled onto his bed.

As Shinsou pulled up a movie, you panicked and snapped your head back to look at Monoma. “Hey, are you okay with this? I don’t wanna impose on you if—”

“I’m fine,” said Monoma, blinking slowly, “I haven’t been told everything, because that’s your business, but I can garner that this is very important to you. And since you’re comfortable around me—though I don’t think anyone will ever lower your walls like Shinsou does—I knew I could do this for you. If it were anyone else besides me, you wouldn’t be as comfortable. Worry about me if you want, but it’ll be misplaced.”

You faced the front again and grimaced. “You two are acting fucking insane.”

Shinsou looked away from the screen for a moment. “No, baby,” he said, tapping the top of your foot, “We’re being careful. You deserve to be handled delicately.”

You didn’t know if it were his usage of baby or the skin-to-skin touch on your bare foot that made you jolt. Probably both.

(Because while you’ve been getting used to Shinsou touching you, it’s all been very face-waist-shoulders-arms. His hands haven’t gone below your stomach or to your boobs. So, yeah, while it was just your foot, he hasn’t been around that area yet. Startling.)

“If you say so,” you muttered, and you pressed back against Monoma, as if hiding from Shinsou’s comment—and, to be fair, the careful attention to you felt unusual, especially now that it was someone beyond Shinsou. “What are you going to do? Why have you got Monoma—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale, chest tight and shoulders tense, when Shinsou placed his hands on your knees, and he said, “I want you to get used to a man between your legs.” Carefully watching your expression, Shinsou slowly parted your legs, keeping his hands near your knees and low on your thighs, and he crawled up to lie on his stomach between them, resting, for a moment, on his elbows, propping him upright on either side of your hips.

And you were fucking panicking. You’d steeled your expression the best you could, since Shinsou was watching, but you broke and couldn’t control it; your visible facial distress, you supposed, was hardly the giveaway when you were already stiff and tense, heart pounding, one hand gripping Monoma’s wrist so tightly his bones might grind together, pressing back into him while subtly backing away from Shinsou.

When Shinsou (pausing briefly but continuing, more cautiously, when you didn’t say anything) moved to wrap his arms around your hips and settled down against you to rest his head on your stomach, your breathing picked up, and your chest started heaving.

(C’mon, baby, it’s just a guy’s presence between your thighs. He’s not even touching you in a sexual way. He’s just there. You’ve even got the security of an extra friend, grounding you by touching you in a familiar way. Neither of these people [you weren’t even thinking of them as someone who might see you as a romantic or sexual target, but just as people] has ever done anything sincerely malevolent to you. By all accounts, you should be safe.

It shouldn’t be anything. It really shouldn’t be affecting you this much. Right?

[But when purity culture has been gnawing at you for a lifetime, it can be a lot just to spread your legs, let alone have someone between them.]

Damn Shinsou for being right.)

And Shinsou was peeling himself away from your stomach, reaching up to hold your face, to comfort you, to assure you it’s all right; he can move; you can do this another time or not at all, but it’s not really working. You kept squirming between both of them, unsure if you truly wanted to get away or be touched in a different way or anything at all: your brain had resorted to irrational anxiety.

In the back of your head, a reasonable voice noted that both of them were taking good care of you and that it made no sense for you to be writhing about like this (why weren’t you saying anything?!), but that voice never got loud enough for you to obey.

“Stay with me, sweetheart; stay here,” Shinsou was saying, moving back into a kneeling position to avoid physical contact with you where he could (but with the scant space, he could hardly avoid touching your thighs), shifting to hold only one of your hands, which he grasped desperately. “I’m gonna walk you through a grounding exercise, okay? And then when you’re ready, we can talk.”

Behind you, Monoma had been keeping a neutral presence, erasing himself when he couldn’t imitate Shinsou, and while he’d retracted his arms from around you so that you could escape, you were still trying to hide, almost, by retreating back against him. You caught it out of the corner of your eye but didn’t process the meaning until later: Monoma subtly manoeuvred his foot to graze Shinsou’s bare ankle.

And Monoma’s voice blended with Shinsou’s, warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Are you listening? You with us? Do you need us to go?”

You didn’t have any answers, and it was killing you. “I don’t know.”

It’d barely left your mouth before Monoma spoke. “Relax.”

Your brain emptied.

As if it unhinged itself from a latch and now hung loosely.

Into a comfortable, distant trance.

Body going limp. Muscles losing tension, as if you’d submerged yourself up to your chin in a hot bath. As if the tight spring that’s been coiled underneath your ribcage your whole life has now been reshaped by the touch of a forge you haven’t known, the hot, bright, molten metal oozing before it’s moulded into a gentler form. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a faint throbbing in the roof of your mouth.

You weren’t thinking, and it felt good.

You were barely able to hang onto even that observation, and therefore, you later had grace for yourself for not understanding what was happening between Shinsou and Monoma at the moment. In your floating, weightless distance, you absorbed the conversation but didn’t process it until much, much later.

You couldn’t be worried about their argument when you’d been told to relax, so the last hint of concern flew out of you before Shinsou ripped Monoma off of you and onto the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Shinsou was whisper-shouting, his splayed hand pinning Monoma to the rug, “What the fuck? She’s never felt my quirk before; I’ve sworn I’d never use it on her, because it’d be—what the fuck is wrong with you, man? You said you’d fucking do what I said.”

Monoma was scrambling out from under Shinsou’s grip, and he let him go. “Fuck it, you never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to? Jesus Christ, Monoma—”

“You saw her.” Monoma scowled and crossed his arms, plopping himself down in the desk chair. “I could feel her freaking out before you could see it, and it’s fucking heartbreaking, y’know? I didn’t—I felt fucking sorry for her and wanted her to be okay. That’s not a goddamn crime.”

“You forced her. You took away her agency and fucking forced—”

“Have you taken a look at her lately?” Monoma jerked his head in your direction. “Heard her talk about her soulmark? About her life recently? She’s only getting more stressed the longer this goes on. I want her to be able to relax, and I saw that I could give that to her.”

Shinsou paused, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

Monoma went on. “Listen, I’m sorry. And I’ll apologise to her once she comes back down, but honestly, I think she deserves the time away from this. I know she’s your girl, but she’s my friend, too, and I want her to have some shred of peace.”

Shinsou frowned. “Don’t say that. She’s not—she can’t be my girl; she’s got a soulmate out there.”

Scoffing, Monoma waved a dismissive hand. “Shut up. You were fucking showing off earlier when you were scratching her head. How you made her follow your hands when you lifted them. That’s some infatuated shit right there.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “You teach her to do that?”

Shinsou tentatively sat next to you on the bed—and you, floating somewhere distant, still registered his weight sinking into the mattress and his hand near your face without touching it. “I hope not,” he said, brow furrowed, “I…I generally enjoy being a bad influence, but in her case, I’m terrified that I actually am.” He raised his hand to cup your face, but he withdrew, fingers hesitantly curling into his palm. “I don’t want her to change to please me or anyone else.”

At this point, your vision started to black out, spots creeping in at your periphery. You have no recollection of what you did next, but considering how both Monoma and Shinsou avoided your gaze when you asked about it later, you must’ve actually done what they said. You apparently took his hand in both of yours to play with his long fingers and said in a slightly slurred voice, “You sound nervous. Don’t be nervous.” And you promptly stuck his first two fingers in your mouth, taking them as far back as you could go and sucking.

An alarmed Shinsou, mindful of your teeth, removed them as quickly as he could, but neither he nor Monoma could erase their looks of shock before you dozed off.

***

You’d woken up nine hours later, with Shinsou asleep on the floor next to the bed and Monoma sleeping upright in the chair, arms crossed. They’d stumbled over each other in their apologies, but since you were feeling more well-rested than you have for the last ten years, you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly mad. Irritated, sure, but that’s inevitable.

You nibbled on the thumbprint cookies Monoma had made for you in the interim while they both empathically apologised, over and over and over. You still weren’t all the way there, but it was on purpose this time.

Because Shinsou’s quirk had felt absolutely fucking fantastic. And he’s been keeping it from you.

You’re confused, really, because if it’s got that mind-numbing pleasure tint to it, why’s he doling it out to others but not you? He’s said recently that he didn’t want you to get dependent on it, but that’s…that’s only an excuse he’s given since the soulmate incident. Otherwise, he just hasn’t, with no explanation. Has he leaked a clue somewhere along the way?

Nevertheless. His quirk had sponge-dabbed at your brain, washing and making it new while you were under its control. Your mind has felt cluttered and cramped for years, and his quirk ushered in spring cleaning, opening windows and letting in light.

Oh, no.

***

YOU

i found your so-called dom hype playlist. you didn’t even make it private!!!

YOU

why is it just the naruto soundtrack over and over again

HITOSHI 💜🍡

:(

HITOSHI 💜🍡

it makes me feel powerful :(

***

Though your gut was urging you to stay, you wanted nothing more than to go home.

Classes 3-A and 3-B had an undercover mission in four days, with all of you sectioned off into teams for quashing PLF bases spread across the country. One of the base locations was a high-end club, and those who were assigned there (Asui and Todoroki) had never been to a club before, a group of you were at a club tonight to help them get used to the environment.

Still early in the night, you had been among the few who hadn’t the courage to go dance first thing, so you had volunteered to guard bags and coats at the enormous table you’d commandeered towards the back, away from the music, close to the bar, and now with mismatched chairs shoved closely to make enough space.

Shinsou was only just now finally getting back from the crowded bar, his beer and your pink lemonade in hand, with Ojiro in tow, babbling and gesturing wildly.

You moved your bag so that Shinsou could sink into the blue leather loveseat next to you, and he nodded towards you, staying engaged in Ojiro’s conversation. Oh, yikes, Hagakure was there, too; you just didn’t see her—she’s strategically wearing something nearly translucent.

Thumbing at the condensation, you stared into your glass, cloud-shaped ice bobbing in pink, when Hagakure (presumably) grabbed Ojiro’s face to kiss him, and his tongue appeared to be inside her mouth. Shinsou glanced towards you, checking in, and when you made a mild, furtive look of oof, he leaned in towards you.

(“A club? We should go,” Shinsou had said, nudging your shoulder with his, “I want you to practise a greater level of casual touching while in public.”

“But we’ll be with our classmates this time,” you’d said, slumping down onto the picnic blanket you’d spread out on the roof of Class B’s dorm, “They’ll notice.”

Shinsou had flicked a straw wrapper into your hair. “Sure. And then it won’t be such an abrupt surprise when you do it with your soulmate.”

You’d rolled away from him, taking some of the picnic blanket with you. “But what if they see me be vulnerable?”

“I’ll keep that from happening. You have the perfect cop-out, too: you can always claim you were drunk.”

You’d peeled one of the heels of your palms from your eyes. “I…guess. I guess.”

“Anything you want to do to me is fine,” Shinsou had said, tearing the blanket away from you and smoothing it out again, “But I want you to start thinking about something else we’ll try soon. I’m giving you the choice of what to do, since it’ll be a bit more intense.”

“Intense?”

“Ah.” Giving up, Shinsou had shaken his head and had lain down next to you. “I misspoke. Intimate would’ve probably been better.”

You’d sighed and flipped towards him. “Lay it on me.”

Shinsou had counted off on his fingers, starting with his pinkie to irritate you. “Skinny dipping. I’d ensure no one could walk in on us, and I wouldn’t look at you, if you didn’t want me to. We could play strip poker or variations thereof—and once again, we could play it in some way that I wouldn’t be able to see you if you didn’t want, but you’d get used to being—being less clothed in the presence of a man.”

“That’s assuming I’d lose.”

Shinsou had cracked a smile. “So it is. Or I could undress you, and I—I could wear a blindfold, or something, if you didn’t—”

“Do you have one handy?”

Shinsou had propped his chin on his fist. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Any other options?”

Here Shinsou had looked away, instead staring into the night sky. “I—I was considering, if you’d let me, touching your boobs as an option, but that felt like a level more intense than the others. More personal. And I’ve concluded you aren’t there yet. Or at the point at which you could try sitting on my lap to get me hard.”

“Hitoshi, you’re insane. You’re going at it from too many angles.”

“Nah,” Shinsou had said, tilting his head towards you, “I want you to be comfortable, however we do this.”)

Shinsou’s hot breath unfurled down your neck as he whispered, “Use me. In any way you want.”

You smacked him in the chest, and he winced, clutching the spot as he grinned at you. “That’s fair,” he said.

For a while, the back table housed only Hagakure, probably grinding on Ojiro’s lap, Ojiro, whose tail shot straight up and stayed there, and you and Shinsou, smushed together on the leather loveseat, talking in hushed tones, starting with when he was going to return your copy of Fire and Hemlock and somehow ending up at which pokemon the top pro-heroes would eat.

When the others settled around the table in a break from dancing, you low-key mourned the loss of the privacy you’d had with Shinsou; it had been kind of cool that in this deafening, crowded place that you and Shinsou had had a moment alone, even with a couple actively making out beside you. No one else could fit on the loveseat, but even with enough space elsewhere, some soulmate-bound couples still overlapped, like how Mina and Kirishima were squished together in one chintz armchair and how Jirou had her legs splayed over Yaoyorozu’s lap in the next folding chair over.

You zoned out for a while—everyone else was talking at once, anyway, so that gave you leave to consider if Hawks would have a preferred evolution of Pigeot to deep-fry. But you were snapped back into reality when Aoyama suggested that the group should play truth or dare.

“Fuck no,” said Sero, slapping a hand over Kaminari’s mouth, “How old are we? Where are we? Get your head out of your ass.”

“And we’ve otherwise been working our asses off doing the boring prep for this mission, Sero, and we’re supposed to be having fun tonight, anyway,” said Mina, her tongue darting out to lick the salt around the rim of her glass, “I think we should.”

“I don’t want—look, it always goes the same way,” said Sero, and he let his hand fall from Kaminari’s mouth but still gripped his shoulder in a tight threat. “It’s either you get dared to perform some fuckin’ gross or sexual act, or you have to tell everyone who you like. We’ve moved past primary school, so I’m not—”

“Then we just change the base rules.” Kaminari didn’t bother dodging Sero’s thwack to his head. “We make it sort of reversed. Where truth is the more dangerous one to pick, and dare is extremely low stakes. There’s super personal shit that no one needs to know that I’m dying to know about some of you.” Kaminari lowered his heart-shaped glasses and stared pointedly across the table at Iida, Uraraka, you, and Shinsou in turn.

Kaminari’s proposal assuaged most issues the table had, so it came down to you and Shinsou as the ones still not wanting to play.

“Too dangerous,” said Shinsou, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, “There are things that are my business only.”

“Yeah,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “I’m not—I’m not into this. Plus, I’m really tired already, and, like, if we have to play something, can’t we think of a better game to play? This is—this is so fucking cliché.”

“Never mind,” Shinsou said quickly, giving you a strange look and letting his arms fall to his lap as he sat up straight, “I desperately want to play truth or dare. In fact, I demand it.”

Laughing, Kaminari reached over the table for Midoriya’s drained beer bottle (having to wrestle it from his grasp) and cleared out a space for it in the middle of the table, while you shrunk down in your seat, wishing you’d brought a book. Because—the bottle was spun—it could keep landing on the same person, meaning more focus could be on a single person than in a turn-based version of the game.

With the bottle landing first on Todoroki, Kaminari pulled no punches once truth was chosen: “Of your three closest friends, would you fuck any of them?”

Contrary to everyone else, Todoroki hardly reacted, instead his brow furrowing in thought. “I’m so fortunate to have so many friends,” he said carefully, “I’m not quite certain who would consider themselves closest to me.”

Uraraka grinned. “Well, who would you consider the closest?”

“Gracious,” said Todoroki, blinking, “I’m very lucky. My friends are so good to me. I—”

“Is he dodging the question or genuinely being weird about it?” Kirishima asked.

“Oh,” said Todoroki, “Well. My answer would be yes, I suppose. It would be wonderful that they’d believe themselves close enough to me to consider asking.”

“You fascinate me,” said Mina, reaching over to pat him on the head, “I want to study you like a bug in a jar.”

“You wouldn’t initiate?” Sero asked over Todoroki’s spinning the bottle, and Todoroki shook his head. “Valid.”

When it landed on Uraraka, she chose dare. “Hm,” said Todoroki, “Low stakes. I…You are dared to rest your head on Midoriya’s shoulder.”

Nearly in his lap, Uraraka was already almost doing that, anyway, so she complied.

From then on, you wanted to melt into the cracks in the floor and evaporate, even though the bottle hadn’t landed on you. All of the questions weren’t being phrased in a way that could fit someone like you—all questions assumed everyone’s had sex already, that everyone has some sort of sordid, sexual history, and good God, it sounded like everyone present did, to an extent (except for, perhaps, Todoroki, whose answers only spurred more questions). Even if their only sexual partner were their soulmate, the picture was painted that everyone was doing what you considered, to put it mildly, risky.

The most bizarre place Kaminari has jerked off was in a sewer, while he was staking out a suspect, with Pro-Hero Manual not far down the path. Midoriya’s favourite sex positions had to be looked up by the rest of the table, so for a delightful moment while Midoriya glowed beet red, everyone else hunched over their phones. Mina has given head in the recording booth for Put Your Hands Up Radio (“Everything was turned off, guys—except for Eijiro.”). Jirou would rather orgasm during oral rather than actual intercourse, and out of on a beach, a plane, or in the bathroom of a high-end restaurant, Yaoyorozu would prefer to have sex on a beach, because—she added unnecessarily—she’ll never have sex on a plane or bathroom again. After hearing that Kaminari would kill to muzzle someone, you concluded that you may be living in a different reality than the rest of your friends, and then the bottle pointed towards you.

You didn’t want to play. You didn’t want to admit anything. You didn’t even know what they’d get out of you—besides the fact that you’re a big-ass virgin, you supposed, and that would only open the floor to an awkward soulmate explanation. “Dare,” you said, sighing.

Narrowing his eyes, Kaminari tilted his head. The only other dares so far had been Uraraka’s head-resting and Sero to hold hands with Iida, which they were still doing, hands on the table between their drinks (Iida had made them swop seats so that his dominant hand could be free). “Riiiiight. I dare you to sit in Shinsou’s lap.”

Do what.

Shinsou turned towards you, brow furrowed with a quirk of the corner of his mouth to check if you were okay with it, if you were comfortable, and you sighed again, your shoulders heaving. “I guess,” you said, and you started to shift over but halted mid-movement. “Sit in lap how? Sideways? Straddling? Other way I don’t know?”

Eyes flicking around the table before settling back on you, Shinsou opened his arms and said, “Sideways is fine. I’ll help you—and don’t worry; you’re not bothering me.”

Holding your breath under everyone’s gaze, you climbed into his lap, crawling across his legs and then flipping, your ass mostly on one of his thighs while your legs draped across his other leg and into your old seat, and—holy fuck, Shinsou’s thighs were so thick that you sat a little taller than he did; you could put your chin on top of his head if you really wanted to, oh, my God. What the fuck. Shinsou must have seen the incredulity in your expression, because he guided one of your arms around his shoulders, to fit more comfortably in the space, while he wrapped an arm around your hips to stabilise you, fingers lightly pressing at a belt loop of your jeans, and with his other hand, he held yours in your own lap.

Jesus fucking Christ. You’re not going to make it out alive.

You needed time to process this, but you were denied it; you had to ask a question to Uraraka, since the bottle had landed on her again, and so you popped out what the table groaned to be the lamest question of the night: “Who’s in your ideal celebrity threesome?”

“Huh.” Uraraka steepled her fingers together. “Togashi Yoshihiro, in his prime…and Hawks.”

Kirishima screwed up his face. “Who the hell is Togashi—”

“He’s the mangaka for Hunter x Hunter,” said Todoroki pointedly, before closing his lips around the straw in his mostly drained strawberry daquiri and making a strident suction sound against the glass.

Kirishima screwed up his face more. “I get that writing a shounen manga can be manly, but why else would you choose specifically—”

“Because he pulled Takeuchi Naoko, the mangaka for Sailor Moon, even with his filthy apartment, poor fashion choices, bad posture, and questionable hygiene. The dick must be insane, in a rat-boy sort of way,” Uraraka was saying, running her hands through Midoriya’s hair, “Plus, he’ll feel insecure in comparison to perpetually charismatic Hawks, so there will be some sort of pathetic, competitive air to the sexual encounter.”

And then Uraraka was spinning the bottle, thank God, so any involvement with you ended. Shinsou—he could probably hear your fucking heartbeat going crazy from being paid attention from everyone else in a sexual context—rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, softly smiling up at you to calm you down, and something inside you caved. You had the impulse to curl into him, to close your eyes and press your mouth to his hairline, to ignore the rest of the group until it was time to go (Shinsou would keep you safe), but you couldn’t obey it, because the bottle pointed towards…you and Shinsou.

Squeezing your hand, Shinsou steeled himself (thighs flexing underneath you) and said, “That’s me. I don’t believe I’m in any position to complete a dare at the moment, so. Truth.”

“Oh, fabulous,” said Uraraka, clapping her hands once, “There’s so much I’ve been waiting to get out of you. What’s the most pertinent…hm.”

“Want some help?” asked Mina, leaning over Kirishima’s bicep and the armrest, holding her drink at a hazardous angle (Kirishima lifted it out of her hand to set it on the table when Mina leant further away).

After Mina had whispered in Uraraka’s ear for a minute, Uraraka returned her attention to Shinsou, biting the inside of her cheek to conceal her delight but practically beaming regardless. “What’s the most you’ve ever made someone come in one night?”

Shinsou’s eyebrows shot upward, his tongue flicking over his lower lip (and you tensed up. The hand at your hip squeezed it gently). “One night? Fourteen.”

“What the fuck.”

“That can’t be true. You’re fucking making that up.”

“With toys? With your quirk, right?”

“No quirk. Not really,” said Shinsou, bowing his head slightly, and he bit his lower lip, his teeth showing for a second when his lip curled in. “I happen to be very, very, very good with my mouth.”

Silence. In it, Shinsou briefly released your hand to spin the bottle himself, and he took it again as the bottle turned, threading his fingers through yours. Blankly, he bumped his forehead against your shoulder, like a cat, before a tired, half-grin stretched across his face. You returned it, fighting the urge to play with his hair.

But then your luck ran out for the next year or so. Perhaps your whole lifetime. For some reason, the bottle kept landing on you and/or Shinsou, and he kept speaking up to save you from answering. The relief and gratitude that flooded you each time Shinsou covered for you only made you wish you could do something for him, too—you could rent his favourite Everest documentary from the library again, get those bizarre sour jawbreakers from the Mom ’n’ Pop gas station in his home district…lie with him in your bed…play with his hair before he puts the mousse in…

What was his favourite position to give oral?

“Kneeling,” Shinsou said so quickly it was a bit startling, and he shifted underneath you, sitting forward. “Kneeling, with them on the edge of their seat, legs spread a bit too widely than what they’re comfortable with for them so that they feel exposed. They can’t touch me unless I let them, and I won’t. They have to ask permission to look.”

Okay, bucko, a follow-up of how you like to receive oral?

“I don’t, generally,” said Shinsou, tilting his head, “because if it’s about me, then my partner isn’t getting as much pleasure as they should be getting. But if they insist, it’s however they want to.”

No, idiot, this isn’t about your partners. This is about you.

“Fuck you. I have to be lying down, or close to it, because my knees tend to buckle if I come from oral.”

If your partner were going to send you a video, what could they do to make it turn you on the most?

“Oh, huh.” Shinsou shifted so that he could scratch the back of his head, and you moved your arm out of the way for the gesture. “First of all, I wouldn’t want my partner to send me anything like that. No nudes, or anything. Because that’s private. That’s intimate. That could get leaked or hacked, and really, her body would be for my eyes only,” said Shinsou, his eyes half-lidded, “In addition, odds are that any video wouldn’t live up to the real thing, so I wouldn’t want it. Just makes the ache worse. Besides, I’m the only one allowed to tease.”

You’re ridiculous. Fine, if the video would never be shared with anyone else, guaranteed, and it lived up to seeing them in person, what would that look like?

“Just my partner saying that she loves me, preferably after she’s just woken up. Sorry to disappoint, if you were expecting something kinkier.”

Spit or swallow?

“Offended that you have to ask.”

You were growing antsy—antsy on the cusp of hyperaware and jittery. Something about the night had gone stale, like you were at a high altitude without enough oxygen. Something about the way some people were reacting—Jirou’s controlled, stone-cold expression (pinched brows and shifting jaw to hint that it took focus to stay that way) paired with Yaoyorozu’s letting her hair down to hide her red-tipped ears, Mina’s constant, excited whispers alternating between Kirishima and Uraraka, Midoriya’s seeming lack of surprise to Shinsou’s answers while he peeled the label off of his fresh bottle. Were they acting like this because they wanted to contain themselves hearing it for the first time, or have any of them—any of them witnessed any of it? Shinsou had said that people you knew had enlisted him to dom for them, and…you didn’t know. Something about it didn’t feel right. Yes, these were your friends, and you loved them, but something about their seeing a part of Shinsou that you haven’t got under your skin. Your friends may love Shinsou, but you love him more.

“Hey, babe,” Shinsou said under his breath, while the bottle spun again, “I need you to let up a little, okay? You’re getting a little too tight.”

You looked down at Shinsou and shook yourself; you’d unconsciously been constricting your arm around the back of his neck, pulling his face near your boobs. You relaxed your arm for him to lean back.

“I also—” He set his hand on your knee, stilling it (how long have you been jostling it?). “—need you to stop fidgeting, if you don’t mind.”

The bottle was slowing, but Kaminari missed it entirely to stare over his martini glass at Shinsou’s mouth. With a glint of pale pink club lighting flashing over Kaminari as his eyes dropped to Shinsou’s chest, you were pierced with an icicle-cold awareness of the bulge under your thigh you’ve been too nervous to acknowledge, and a full-bodied shiver swept through you.

You pulled away from Shinsou, frowning down at him. “I do mind, actually. Come with me somewhere?”

“Of course,” said Shinsou, and he helped you off of his lap, ignoring the bottle and the protests of your friends. You couldn’t look back at him, lest you lose your nerve, but you grabbed his hand and led him through the club, shoes sticking on the beer-soaked floor, weaving through dancers and bar patrons until you ended up in some empty, mildewed corridor with one flickering, fluorescent light.

You spun on your heel, grit grinding under your shoe. You had no plan, but what came out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep in your gut, sounded right. “I need you to bite me.”

Shinsou blinked in time with the light flickering. “I’m sorry?”

“A love bite. A hickey, or whatever,” you said, and, taking his hands, you placed them on your own shoulders and made him push you against the wall, with the crackly dust under peeling wallpaper shook onto your sleeve even from the slight impact. “The next step you wanted me to think about. I choose this.”

“Oh.” Glowering towards the floor, Shinsou stuck his hands in his pockets, his mind somewhere else, but he recovered, face softening, and took a step closer to you. “All right,” he said cautiously, fiddling with his jacket zipper, “Is there—where do you want it?”

You were about to say the top of your left boob, since the low cut of your shirt allowed it, but an intrusive thought struck you, bringing to the surface the memory of Shinsou’s voice over the phone: I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck.

When you raised a finger over the pulse point on your neck, Shinsou froze, stilling all movement. Even the rise and fall of his chest halted for a moment. After a long beat, he snapped out of his distant haze, his Adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed. “Got it. I can do that.”

When Shinsou put his hands on your waist, you understood why people fight wars over people like him. Light and hesitant at first, his hands fell into their full weight at your silent encouragement, encompassing so much more of you than you’d thought, steadying you against the wall and back in reality. Drumming his fingers on your waist, Shinsou ducked his head, shot you a sliver of a smile, and pressed his lips to your neck.

His lips were cold. But Shinsou always ran cold, you told yourself, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that this dry, close-mouthed kiss to your neck was—oh. His lips parted (smoothly and a bit stickily; you’d seen him re-apply his coconut-pear beeswax chapstick at the bar), pressing more fervently against your neck as his tongue made the first sweep over your skin. He curved the tip of his tongue for the second lap, spreading more saliva over the spot, and at his first suck, your hands flew up to grip his biceps. You felt his mouth curl into a smirk and his quiet hum, and you, mildly embarrassed, slid your hands from his arms up around his neck, one of them sliding into his hair to press him further into your neck—he broke off to laugh under his breath, a heated huff brushing over the wet spot on your neck.

“You okay?” he asked, adjusting hold on your waist, one hand easing down to the small of your back and inching upwards between your shirt and your coat, his whole, flattened hand weighing down and warming you.

“I’m fine,” you said, keeping his head tucked in your neck so that he couldn’t see whatever embarrassing face you were making, “Keep going?”

“I’m gonna have to use my teeth now. Just a warning,” said Shinsou, and at your tap on the back of his head, he returned his mouth to your neck and sucked.

You inhaled sharply and gripped the back of his collar, crumpling it, while his tongue laved over the spot between sucks, hot and cold, pressure and release, and Shinsou pulled you tightly against him, his jacket zipper cool through the fabric of your shirt. He was lightly nibbling, gentle and barely there, between harsh sucks, the spot aching and raw, and he bared more of his teeth, letting the length of a few brush against you as an alert—and he sank his teeth into your skin, sucking, lips smushed to the tenderer wet insides.

“Holy shit, Hitoshi.”

When he pulled back, Shinsou licked his lips, his eyes glued to the spot on your neck. He swiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Looks good.”

“That fucking hurt.” Releasing him, you ran your fingers over the spot, unable to tell any different aside from moisture and the slightest swell.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “It is a bite. Bites tend to—”

“Oh, shut up.” You fussed with the collars of your shirt and coat, wanting to frame the bite. “Help me out?”

Shinsou’s crooked grin returned. “You want it on display?” He adjusted your lapels for you. “Someone’s cheeky. Don’t tell me you were—”

“Don’t say it, fucker,” you said, deliberately averting your gaze to stare at the fluorescent light.

It took you the whole process of Shinsou arranging your shirt and coat, the shared grins, the navigating back through the sweaty throng, leading him by the hand, his cool one in yours, beat to some bubble-pop song pulsing in your ears and chest, and plopping back onto the loveseat at the group table to realise two things: one, that he’d been himself throughout that whole thing. He’d been joking, reacting like your friend instead of your dom. Like Hitoshi instead of that Shinsou you didn’t know. The dom persona had slipped away in a flash, or it hadn’t even entered the equation. So quick a transition, from what he’d been showing to the group to how he behaved around you. Had he noticed? Was it intentional?

And two: you really wanted to mark him back.

***

You dangled your legs off of 3-B’s dormitory roof, full of self-loathing and nervous energy. Stressed enough to fight the urge to exfoliate with a cheese grater all the way down to the bone.

The hickey had worked. No one had said a word about you or Shinsou the rest of the game. In fact, as soon as you got back, the game ended within a turn. Kaminari had opened his mouth, probably to ask where you’d been, but his eyes fell to your neck, and he shut his mouth, turning his attention to Sero and clamping his hand over Sero’s and Iida’s. The rest of your friends had behaved similarly, acting like nothing was wrong. It’d given you immense satisfaction, and you’d grinned into your refill of pink lemonade; you hadn’t noticed until the end of the night that Shinsou’s arm had been around you, resting in a divot in the leather on the back of the loveseat, running behind your shoulders. Felt good to be special.

Gritting your teeth, you clenched the edge of the roof, knuckles showing. Why it felt so good—you didn’t want to put it into words. If you did, that made it real.

Instead, you’d recruited Monoma to help you in a last-ditch effort to find your soulmate. You’ve been going through your old shit from freshman year, trying to find any record of someone calling you an ice princess. Or a bitch, or something along those lines. Since Monoma’s better at tech stuff, he’s been combing through everyone’s social media dated from the first semester at U.A., searching for any pictures of you or anything that could be vague-posting. You’ve even bothered Aizawa for the old seating chart and records of some of the earliest group exercises, though those weren’t appearing fruitful, either.

Mirio was watching Eri today, so Monoma and you were camping out on B’s rooftop, spreading out the blanket you and Shinsou usually used, with your laptops and old notebooks strewn across it. Monoma was currently taking a short break to make popcorn, so he’d be back in a few minutes.

It wasn’t enough. But you’ve involved another person, so you might as well see it through—but you wanted to quit looking. Fuck it if your memory were faulty and that you couldn’t remember who said your words to you. They didn’t matter.

(Fuck, no, don’t allow yourself to put it into words.)

([You can’t stop what’s already happening. You can’t kill a thought once it’s made its home in your head.])

(Yeah, so shut the fuck up. Don’t think it. Distract yourself. Keep searching for your—)

([—soulmate, whom you didn’t care to meet, because you had feelings for somebody else.])

***

YOU

hey y’know that page where ua students can submit anonymous confessions???

YOU

i found me in a post. in freshman year and everything

YOU

says that i’m a “frigid bitch who needs to pull the column outta [my] ass”

MONOMA 🔇🎭

oh lolololol don’t worry about that one

YOU

???

MONOMA 🔇🎭

I submitted that lol

YOU

drop your location right now so that i can come rip you to shreds

***

Once you acknowledged them, your feelings peeled you like a grape. No, more like—more like someone’s scraping away the outside of a pineapple with their fingernails, juice occasionally getting through, but mostly just a mess of spikes and sticky fingers, with the conclusion that it would’ve been easier to smash the damn thing.

Bad. Bad feeling. Evil, even. Shinsou trusted you, as a friend, and you’ve gone and put him in the romance zone. You’ve put him in a category he wouldn’t want to be in. Bad and evil and diabolical. Life-ruining. Relationship-ruining. You might lose him, and that would snap you in half like a raw carrot.

“Baby, you’re just staring at the bell peppers,” said Shinsou, leaning on the shopping cart, jolting you out of your reverie, “Pick two and c’mon. Everyone else has left the produce section; they’re over towards seafood.”

“Th—thanks,” you said, shakily accepting the plastic bag Shinsou handed you, but you made no move towards the bell peppers. “Why don’t you catch up? I can finish here.” And maybe process your thoughts enough to make a decision.

Shinsou smiled, standing upright to stretch his arms above his head. “Nah. What else do we need over here? I can get it for you.” Good God. His shirt rode up just enough to reveal a dark, violet line of hair trailing upwards, a soft line suggesting abs framing it, a thick waistband of a popular brand of boxers peeking out of his plaid pants. Stomach as salvation. Your eyes bulged and glazed over, but you shook yourself out of it.

“Uh,” you said intelligently, “Potatoes. Those mad small ones.” You made a circle with your middle finger and thumb as a measure. “Around this size.”

“Gotcha,” said Shinsou, already spinning around to scan the produce, “They come in purple; is it cool if we use those?”

“Of course,” you said, miles away somewhere, freezing and back in bed underneath a nest of blankets, with Shinsou tucked in next to you, his arms around you with his mouth to the back of your neck.

Oh, you’re fucked fucked.

You normally took normal bell peppers and normally put them into the plastic bag, like a normal person, and twisted it normally to seal them in, setting the bag in the toddler seat of the cart in a normal way. You’re good. You’re fine.

(How do you act around him? Is this how you typically behave around Shinsou?)

You have questions about his behaviour, too. Because you’ve looked back on your sessions with him, and the further they’ve gone along, the less stern the dom act has been. He’s been more and more like how he normally behaves around you, just with the addition of physical contact. Have you been making him be a poor dom, because he’s so used to you? He might not even realise that he’s slipping. Subconsciously, his behaviour has made it feel real to you, instead of as a service he does professionally, because he’s just been…himself.

You’re breaking that rule he establishes with other clients, which was not to develop feelings. He didn’t have this rule with you, but he’ll probably stop the sessions if he finds out.

You wanted Shinsou, just as he was. Yes, the dom persona was hot, but it was essentially just a door into your true feelings and wanting to touch him for real. If his dom act were slipping in your sessions, you’ll take it—it’s probably the closest you’ll ever have to being truly intimate and romantic with him without ruining your friendship.

Your heart skittered at the sight of Shinsou returning to the cart, bag of tiny, purple potatoes large enough to share with the class heaved in both arms, and you joined in his laughter at the pathetic, tinny noise he’d made lugging the bag into the cart. Shinsou commandeered pushing the cart from you, edging you off of the handle, but when you wouldn’t let up, he kissed your cheek. Frozen, you let him take the cart from you, and he hastily proceeded towards seafood, not looking back.

To keep the sessions going, you’d have to pretend you’re still looking for your soulmate.

The sessions could occur more frequently if you pretended the game of truth or dare made you feel like you’re falling behind.

***

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, Neito. Care to offer any solutions?”

“No,” Monoma said, bending back over his laptop, “but I’ll start searching for other Shinsou Hitoshis so that you can kick their asses.”

You gestured for him to keep it down, jerking your head in Eri’s direction. She was watching Monoma’s Japanese-dubbed, extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, holding her unicorn-kitten doll in her lap, sitting atop the booster seat cushion for her spot on Aizawa’s couch. “If Aizawa-sensei hears Eri swearing, he’ll blame us.”

“Not my—” He cut himself off, wincing. “You’re right. I’ll keep the cursing to a minimum. But if you murder any other Shinsou Hitoshis that exist, then, de facto, he’ll no longer have a soulmate, and you can get with him.”

You sighed, sinking into one of Aizawa’s worn armchairs. “I’m not gonna resort to violence.”

Pursing his lips, Monoma shut his laptop for dramatic effect. “But you’ll resort to compromising your morals and fucking him.”

“Keep quiet,” you said, swatting at Monoma and missing, “I’m not gonna—how else am I—”

“I just don’t think you should.”

“I’m not gonna have—have sex with…”

Monoma sucked in through his teeth, reaching into his bag of trail mix. “You’re not emotionally ready,” he said, shaking his head, “If you added sex to the stuff you’re going through right now, you’d explode.”

“I know that,” you said, slumping down in your seat. You shot a mournful look towards Monoma, and you held out your hand for trail mix. “I…I don’t wanna have sex at this point in my life. I just don’t think it’s—I want to do it eventually, yeah. But not right now. I’m tired.”

He tilted the bag into your hand, shaking some out. “I understand. Why don’t you say fuck the soulmate shit and be with Shinsou regardless?”

“I don’t wanna take any shred of happiness from him,” you said, crunching, “If he has a chance at happiness with his soulmate, he deserves it.” You swallowed thickly. “I’m guilty as hell for wasting his time like this, but I admit that I’m selfish. I want him all to myself.” You picked through the mix you had in your palm. “I feel horrible about it,” you said softly, “but if I want to keep his attention in these sessions, I think I have to up the ante, at least a little.”

Grimacing, Monoma shoved his hand in the bag of trail mix. “Who put that in your head?”

***

YOU

want to try sexting????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

no <3

***

Against Monoma’s advice, you were going to make a move on Shinsou under the false pretences of soulmate preparation. Which, you supposed, wasn’t too different from what you’d been doing, but now you were deceiving him.

Shinsou could always notice when you were nervous or insincere in person, so you resolved to do it over the phone. Building up the courage to call him took half an hour of staring at your phone, face down on your bedspread, the whole decision-making process taking longer than usual, because the person you’d usually consult for advice was the very person you were going to call.

When you finally unlocked your phone and pressed the call button on his contact, your fingers darted to turn on the speaker, and you tossed your phone towards the foot of your bed, skibbling backwards away from it as if it were a slippery lizard you’d found in your sheets.

Six trills of the dial tone later, Shinsou answered, fumbling his phone, by the sound of it, and out of breath. “Hello?”

God, his panting reverberating throughout your dorm room made your heart race, and you needed to be in control for what you’re about to say. You scrambled to pick up your phone to switch off the speaker and hold it to your ear. “Hi, Hitoshi.”

“Yeah, hi.” With his rumbly, winded voice low in your ear, it was as if he were standing next to you, instead of near a busy street, judging by the rush of cars passing in the background and the skid of tires. “What’s up?”

Okay. You are strong and brave, and you can do this. You can and will be this ridiculous man’s personal whore in the name of love. “Hitoshi,” you said, letting a whine creep into your voice, “When are you coming home? I need you.” Hopefully, he couldn’t hear your cringe when you said those things.

You could, however, hear his frown when he spoke. “I,” he said, pausing, and you could easily picture the crease between his eyebrows, “I’ll be home soon. I’m out on my bike. What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“A little. I don’t know quite what’s wrong with me, but I really, really miss you, so much, and I need you to come home now so that I—fuck.” You took a slow, controlled breath, and when you came back down, words that weren’t your own spilled out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep inside you—as if they were a surfacing whale carcass from the Mariana Trench of your stomach (the loose script Monoma had helped you draft lay forgotten). “’Toshi, I’ll be real with you. I need something in my mouth. I need your strong hands spreading my thighs. I need your mouth on my boobs, licking and sucking up until you can bite the side of my neck. I need to watch you touch yourself, to see how you make yourself feel good and learn how I can do the same. It’s a side of you I don’t know. It’s a side you haven’t let me in. I need to know what all you’re capable of, because I know you’re capable of teaching me, of corrupting me, and I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Three cars honked in quick succession in the background while Shinsou stayed silent. “Who put you up to this.”

“Nobody. No one can tell me what I want. And I want all of you.”

“Bullshit. That’s fucking bullshit. Tell me who’s been pressuring you to have sex. You wouldn’t want this with me otherwise.” Shinsou wasn’t panting anymore. His voice was stony and flat.

“Is it that hard to believe that I want you of my own volition?” you asked, and you covered yourself with your throw blanket, burrowing out of sight, even though he’s halfway across town. “Are you saying I’m not capable of making this decision?”

“No,” Shinsou said, “I simply don’t think you would. It’s—it doesn’t line up with what I know about you.”

That’s fine. That’s why you have a fake motive. “I’m tired of being so far behind the rest of our friends. It makes me feel so small and immature, hearing them talk about things I haven’t experienced, and the game we played at the club proved how far beyond me they are.” You swopped your phone to your other ear so that you could lie down on your preferred side, and you snuggled into one of your stuffed animals. “I—I don’t want my soulmate to be embarrassed by me or unsatisfied with what I can do. I just want to be good enough. You’re my lifeline, Hitoshi. You can give me what I can’t give myself.”

“Fuck off with that. Soulmates aren’t—hold on. My helmet’s getting in the way.” Rustling and the click of a strap, and Shinsou’s voice came in more clearly—and he overenunciated each syllable, signalling that he was growing livid. “Soulmates aren’t all about sex. Life isn’t all about sex. I’ve been holding back the entire time we’ve been dealing with this soulmate shit, because telling you what I really think only bounces the fuck off your stubborn ass: I honestly think what you’ve been doing with me in the name of your soulmate is fuckin’ psychotic. Everyone lives a different timeline; there’s no standard for when a so-called life event is supposed to happen, if it happens at all,” said Shinsou, “You can graduate university at 90 and have your first kiss at 45 and learn to ride a bike when you’re 23. It’s fine if you never check all the boxes. You’ve never been behind. You are your own, on your own path, at your own pace. So, please, don’t rush into love, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. He’d done it before, but now, you craved it. You cherished it. You could pretend it was real. “If you really thought it was a bad idea,” you said, eyes fluttering shut, entertaining the thought of Shinsou being there with you, spooning you and calling you baby softly in your ear, “why—why did you go along with it? Why did you offer?”

Shinsou huffed into the phone, and the sound was familiar enough for you to picture his expression as he did it: pursed lips, scrunched nose, dark eyes. “Because otherwise, you might have gone to someone who might hurt you. Because when some people hear that there’s a virgin in a vulnerable position, depending on them, they can lose sight of the person in front of them, instead fetishizing the corruption of virginity, because—because do you know how much the idea of teaching a virgin how to love you and only you drips with sexuality? People go crazy, sweetheart. Virginity can—it can attract the wrong people, and it can repulse the wrong people. You shouldn’t be with anyone who sees something like that as a problem.”

God, he’s so nice. He’s so compassionate. You were arguing with Shinsou over, essentially, his decision to be kind to you. What a dependable fucker. Why can’t he be your soulmate? “So, you’ve been holding back from telling me all of this. Anything else you’ve been holding back? Any other information, or—or in how you’ve been touching me. Are you one of those virginity fetishists, Hitoshi? Have you wanted to touch more of me?”

“I’m not reducing you to a fetish, clearly, and—and you belong to someone else,” said Shinsou, sounding like he was gritting his teeth, “If I were your soulmate, then I would allow myself to want more from you. But I’d only do it if you wanted it—for real, not whatever you’re doing now—because I’m not a selfish bitch.” Each word sounded like it had to fished out of his stomach with a barbed hook. “I can fucking wait for you, because I wouldn’t ever want you to be fucking scared around me for any reason, and I’ll keep waiting. I don’t mind. You’ve got the rest of your goddamn life for all of this.”

Welp. Shinsou was more upset than you meant for him to be, but perhaps this conversation would frustrate him enough to kiss and suck at your neck during a movie when he returned. “Then come home and touch me, Hitoshi. Fucking do it. I want you to. Stop holding back.”

“No. No, I won’t. I—something’s up with you. You’re not acting like yourself, and—and it’s pissing me off. You don’t know what you’re asking for, and you can’t really mean it. You’d never want me. You’re being a goddamn brat,” he said, and you could picture him running a hand back through his hair, mouth twitching, scowling, “Is that what this is? Does my precious baby girl wanna be punished? Seems like you want something drastic. I can give you that. Listen up: I’m about halfway through my bike route. Go to my room. In my bedside table, there’s a toy I’ve chosen for you. Originally, it was gonna be used months down the line, but since someone can’t watch that bratty mouth of hers—when I get back to the school, I’d better find you fucking yourself with it.”

“Wait, what?” You snapped upright, the blanket pooling around your waist.

 “You heard me, you lying little minx. I’m not going to lift a finger for this punishment. You’re doing it all by yourself.”

What the fuck. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Why? Are you getting wet?” Shinsou scoffed into the speaker. “Key’s in the usual place. Get to it,” Shinsou said, and he hung up.

Numbly, you lowered your phone to your lap, staring as the screen returned to your home wallpaper.

Uh. That’s. That’s a bit more extreme than kissing your neck. You supposed…you supposed that you should do what he said, lest he get even angrier.

You went to his dorm. The fake cactus you’d given him rested on the windowsill, bathed in sunlight, and after a quick check to the soil—moist—you permitted yourself a smile. You dropped it when you opened the top drawer of his bedside table, but you hid the toy under your shirt and dashed back to your room before you or anyone else could get a good look at it.

Locking the door behind you, you pulled the toy out from underneath your shirt. New in the package, so that alleviated any worries about sabotage. You cut it open, and silicone cock dropped into your lap. It’s a pale blue, almost translucent thing, and it’s five and a half inches, according to the packaging. For a moment, you were insulted at the size, because didn’t Shinsou think you could take something bigger? But then you remembered that you and what pussy would be taking it, so. That’s fair. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it—no suction or vibration or anything. Just a fake dick.

How do you even prepare for this? You changed out of your pants into a semi-short skirt, deciding you still wanted to be somewhat covered, and you tossed your underwear to the foot of your bed. While you were laying down a towel, you briefly considered if you should put on that virgin English song by Madonna. Not English English, but—wait, was Madonna from England? Or another English-speaking country?

You’ve masturbated before, of course; you’re not an idiot, but you’ve never—you sighed, cringing at the five and a half inches—taken something this long or wide inside you (which aspect would be more trouble?). Lying on your bed atop the towel, you held the dildo up to the light, blue specks of glitter shining through. You parted your legs and rubbed the tip through your folds, completely bone-dry, feeling inadequate and ashamed that you couldn’t get turned on, worried about Shinsou and what was going through his mind, and Madonna was from America, from a place called Bay City in the state of Michigan but was raised around Detroit, and you couldn’t focus on getting aroused or anything, so though you were circling your clit, it wasn’t doing anything for you, and the tip of the dildo could barely make it inside you, not even passing the first ring of muscle. Using the head, you gathered what slickness you could, even teasing and prodding your clit with the rubbery material before trying to work the head past the first, tense ring, but the stretch of it burned, entrance strained and stinging, while your feet slid against the towel and blanket, trying to give you extra traction to get it in—and it slipped out of you entirely, the head bouncing as it flopped to lie flat on the towel between your legs. Jaw clenched and eyes watering, you were flooded with a hot rush of embarrassment. If you can’t take this, how would you ever take Shinsou’s cock?

Time passed without your noticing, but it felt like no time at all before you could feel yourself drying out, even though you were never that wet to begin with. Collapsing back and staring at the ceiling, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your skirt, wanting nothing more than to go back to before you made the phone call, but you’ve dug your own bed, so now you have to grave/lie in it.

But you couldn’t get it inside you.

You fished the dildo out from underneath you, and to your surprise, the cockhead had turned a light lilac at the wet heat between your legs, and it was slowly fading back into blue. Okay. You got it. Another phone call would further your cause. Dread building, you called him again, and he picked up after a single ring, quiet. “Hitoshi?”

“Yeah?”

A short reprieve of relief passed through you at his calm inflection, but it left when you braced yourself for what you had to say. “I—” Goddammit, steam would be coming out of your ears if you grew the tiniest iota more embarrassed. “I can’t get it in.”

Though only a few painful, prolonged seconds elapsed, the silence that followed felt long enough for you to have listened to Madonna’s entire discography. Eventually, a careful, resigned-sounding Shinsou said, “Would you like me to give you instructions over the phone, or do you want me to come over?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see, and said in a small voice, “I think you should come over.”

“Right,” he said, “Give me three minutes.”

Two minutes later, you were opening your door for him. Freshly showered with damp, partially fluffed hair (he must not have put in his mousse yet), Shinsou rushed to hug you before you could lift your hand off the doorknob, his muscular, still wet-warm arms wrapping around you with great fervent, pinning your own arms to your sides, and he tucked his chin into the crook of your neck, mouth half on your shirt and half on your skin.

“Oh, baby,” he said, his nose scrunching against you while he smushed you against him, getting your own shirt damp, “You don’t have to do any of this. I’m so, so sorry. I was inexcusably angry, and I didn’t—I leant into hard dom mode because I froze up and didn’t know how to react, and being a hard dom comes easily for me. You didn’t have to—I was terrified. I’m sorry.”

“No, I—I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be so good,” you said, and Shinsou pulled back enough to look at you, his hands on your waist (!!!), and he gasped softly when he caught your drying tear lines. “Because I was being unfair to you. Being a brat. Pushing you.” You sniffed, closing your eyes as Shinsou cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear. Two more ran down your face before you managed to get out, “Help me make it fit?”

Shinsou avoided your eyes by moving to your bed while retrieving the small, squeeze bottle of lube from his back pocket. You winced when he picked up the dildo, since the head was still slick and purple, and he twisted it around, looking it over, while he sat on your bed against the wall, legs outstretched across your bed. “I see you didn’t get very far.”

“Shut up; it’s dried off,” you said, one knee on your bed, wrinkling the towel, “And so what if I’ve got a tiny vagina. It means you can indulge in any size kink shit you have going on with your massive, monster dong.”

“Don’t fucking say it like that,” Shinsou said, laughing a bit but refusing to meet your eyes, and he patted his thigh for you to sit. “You probably didn’t warm yourself up well enough.”

Good. Good. So far, it had been unfolding comfortably, like an average hangout, ish, but when you swung your leg over Shinsou’s lap to straddle him, everything became much realer. Heavier. Both of you tensed up, with you hovering above his lap, really, instead of putting your weight on it, and when your skirt rose up a hair, you flattened it back down. “Warm me up, then.”

The shock in Shinsou’s widened eyes reflected your own. Where had that come from? “I don’t think I should,” he said, his fists bunched in your bedding.

“Hitoshi,” you said, shifting farther up his hips but still hovering, “I want you to be the one to stretch me out.” You did a very good impression of a completely calm, normal person as you held up the dildo. “Should I—should I lick it first, or something? To make it easier?”

Shinsou made a noise that sounded like a combination of coughing and choking. “No, uh. Natural—natural lubrication. Would be best. First,” he was saying as you guided his cold, trembling hands to your thighs, “Let’s. Let’s try that. First. If that’s okay.” His touch was so light that you barely felt it, so you pressed down on his hands, his fingertips indenting in your skin, and you nodded, letting him know it was okay. Watchful for your approval, he hesitantly smoothed long strokes down your thighs.

“That’s fine. It’s—it’s what I called you over for,” you said, losing brain cells when you noticed how much of your thighs Shinsou’s large hands could hold, “Touch me? I trust you.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll.” He swallowed visibly, spit audible. “I’ll keep your skirt down so that you don’t have to show me anything; you’ll be safe. I won’t—I won’t take advantage of you. You’re safe with me. Why don’t you—” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you put your hands on my shoulders to steady yourself?”

Going a step further, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leant in, holding him close, shoving your nose in his neck, getting struck with some sort of fruity scent (pears?), and arching up as an afterthought to give him better access, your skirt riding up to reveal just the slightest curve of your ass.

Shinsou rubbed your thighs twice more, the second time allowing his fingertips to dip under the edge of your skirt before running back down your thighs. He then slowly drew his shaking hands up in parallel all the way up to your hips, his fingertips pressing into the swell of your ass and his thumbs sliding into the line where your thighs met your—

“Holy shit,” said Shinsou, snapping his hands back as if he’d been scalded, “You’re—you’re not wearing anything.”

You clenched around nothing at the crack in his voice. You were about to ask him if he typically wore his underwear while masturbating, but you found that you couldn’t get your mouth to work.

“Hold on,” Shinsou was saying, and you leant back, dragging your arms from around his neck to rest on his shoulders, “I need a minute.” He closed his eyes, pressing his thumb and index fingers against them, biting his lip, clonking his head back against the wall.

Saliva building in your mouth and thighs about to give out, you eased your weight onto Shinsou’s lap—and his breath hitched the moment your bare cunt pushed against his cock, achingly hard and bulging in his sweats.

“Good Lord, have mercy,” said Shinsou, opening his eyes to half-lidded and dragging his hand down his face, a flash of alarm reaching his eyes when his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours (probably at the wet gush that had dripped onto him). The movement had shot arousal from your clit all the way up to the back of your throat, so you tried to roll your hips against him, mimicking his motions. Shinsou stopped you, his hands shooting to your thighs to still them. “No, you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” he said, breathing hard, “I am honoured you’d even let me touch you.”

Honoured? You scowled when Shinsou buried his face in his hands, because you’ve had enough of his casual comments here and there that he’s not worthwhile. That he’s not worth loving. That no one would ever want him. Ha, as if it were possible you couldn’t want him. Shinsou has always looked at you with a tenderness that ached. He knew you and valued you and saw you, just as you truly were, and didn’t ask for anything more. How could you ever love anyone else?

From this angle, the sag of his sleeve revealed the final syllable of his name written on his wrist.

So, you fucking did it. You grabbed his wrists to move his hands out of the way and kissed Shinsou. It was probably a bad, desperate kiss, since you didn’t know what you were doing (probably too firm?), but the way Shinsou sighed into it made up for the wave of insecurity. The moment when his shoulders slackened, you celebrated in your head, relishing how his cold, coconut-pear lips were just warming up, but Shinsou shuddered and pulled away, pushing at your shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren’t you saving that for your soulmate?” asked Shinsou, spluttering and panicked, “It’s just me. You wasted it on me.”

“I didn’t waste it. There is nothing just about you, Hitoshi. Listen, I—I don’t want things to change, but at the same time, I do. I’ve decided I don’t fucking care about my stupid, fucking soulmate. I don’t fuck with him. I want you.” You removed his hands from your shoulders to grasp both of them, closing some of the distance he’d creating by scooting nearer to him—cracking a smile at the way his dick twitched when you inadvertently grinded on him. “I think I always have. You are lovable and witty and kind; you look at me and handle me with gentleness to the extreme. I will never connect with anyone like the way we do. No one is like you, Hitoshi.”

His hair was fluffing back up, and based on his expression, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was being electrocuted. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“My soulmate is probably a bastard, anyway,” you said, jerking your head to the side, “and your soulmate—I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I want to be the closest to you forever, or as long as you’ll have me. It terrifies me that someone else could get between us. I want you to take all my firsts; I want you to be the only one who ever touches me—”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Shinsou was saying, muffled behind the fist he’d brought to his mouth, the tips of his ears flaming red, “Baby, please don’t say things like that to me. You’ll give me hope.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry for ruining our friendship like this, but I’m in love with you. I love you. I always have, without even knowing. And I always fucking will, even if some bastard soulmate shows up someday. I choose you. You’re what I want, every day for the rest of my life, and I wanna be yours.”

Shinsou sighed, shoulders heaving as he embraced you, holding you tightly. “Don’t worry about ruining our friendship; I did that already. I got caught in my own damn capture weapon the day Tainted Love attacked. I could’ve stopped her if I hadn’t. I could’ve prevented all of this. We could have kept going, keeping a tender distance, so neither of us would be…burdened.”

“Fuck you and your conception of being a burden—”

“And I have a hunch who your soulmate is,” said Shinsou, deflated as he pulled away.

You blinked. “You what?”

“I’m evil and sinister and foul for keeping it from you. But I—I talked to Tainted Love. Got some help. I think I know.”

“I don’t need to know,” you said, lifting your hand to hold his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut, his light purple lashes contrasting against his skin.

Shinsou leant into your palm, looking like the world had been taken off his shoulders, but he furrowed his brow and opened his eyes, his jaw shifting. “I’m not going to tell you how I feel until you know who it is.”

“Hitoshi,” you said, grinning weakly, “I’m pretty sure I already know how you feel.”

Shinsou took your hand, sliding it off his face and held it palm up, and he traced over the lines with his middle and ring fingers. “I don’t think I should tell you until you know your soulmate.”

“Fine, then. Enlighten me.”

“You sure? I’m evil and sinister and foul,” Shinsou said again, dodging when you moved to flick his forehead for debasing himself, “and I’m about to get even worse.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes flicking to yours. “There’s one way to figure it out for certain. Do you trust me?”

“I tried to impale myself on a fake cock for you. What do you think?”

Shinsou laughed, finally, easing into his crooked grin, turning a sad sort of bittersweet at the last second. “Remember the first time we met.”

It’s as if a ghostly hand was penetrating your mind, tracing back and back and back, through filing cabinets of memories, farther back than you could’ve reached yourself, exhuming parts of your past you’d forgotten that flashed by in hazy slideshows of photographs as it thumbed through manilla folders. When the hand appeared to startle in revelation, it slithered a shoddy file from its misplaced location, shoved sideways along the drawer vaguely labelled to be first semester, freshman year. When the hand was joined by its pair, you realised they were your own, and when you opened the file, you were plunged into the memory, set to relive it exactly.

God, you’re going to be late. You’re never late, and this way, Aizawa was going to get a bad impression of you and your standards. It’s not your fault that this follow-up to the Sports Festival was scheduled at the ass-crack of dawn, but—and you sucked in the morning air through your teeth, pulling your collar up to protect you from the wind—it was, admittedly, your fault that you’d stayed up late with Asui and Jirou. It’d been like a sleepover, almost, and you were loving the people your classmates were turning out to be.

What was this meeting for, anyway? All of the Sports Festival participants were invited, so it must be some sort of practical evaluation of your performances. Maybe how you can improve. But why did it have to be before school? Aizawa was crazy.

You skidded to a stop in front of the gym and swung open the door, and it creaked so loudly that fucking everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at you. Smiling nervously, you took a step inside.

Yamada shot you finger guns from his place atop a lump in a yellow sleeping bag. “WAY TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE! YOU’RE SO LATE, AND WE COULDN’T START WITHOUT YOU, SINCE WE’RE REVIEWING THE EVENTS IN ORDER! WE HAD TO GO AROUND AND SHARE FUN FACTS ABOUT OURSELVES!”

“I’m so sorry.” Any excuse you would’ve made wouldn’t’ve made up for your classmates’ suffering, so you didn’t offer one.

You scrambled to the back of the group, hunching in on yourself, and as soon as you found a place, you heard a scoff.

“Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Your jaw dropped, and you turned to face some purple, troll-haired bitch with bags under his eyes. Ah. You knew this guy. He’d scoped out Class A before the Sports Festival and insulted your new friends to their faces. That sort of jackassery would not be tolerated by you, so you’d adopted a rather cold, defensive front to anyone outside of Class A for the time being, presuming they felt the same. Oh, yes, you remembered this guy, above all others shunning your class.

You scowled back, the corner of your mouth twitching, and you spoke with disdain. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but both of you snapped towards the front when Yamada clapped and began yelling again.

You were ripped out of the memory by the softest orgasm you’ve ever had, gentle and washing through your body like a bathtub overflowing; you found yourself held snugly by Shinsou’s arms, clutching you to his chest, while your hips grinded against him, arousal seeping out of you and soaking the fabric over his pulsing cock.

Gasping, you kissed the side of his neck, and he shuddered. “Hitoshi.”

“You’re back?” Shinsou raised a hand from your lower back to stroke your hair, pulling away to smile at you. “You were under for a while,” he said, and he slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips into yours. “Seems like you had a good time. Started grinding on me all by yourself. I tried to stop you, but you—” He broke off, grinning and shaking his head. “You moved to suck at my neck, and I fucking shattered.” He tapped a spot, spit reflecting in the light.

“There’s no mark, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, and you slumped against him. “Thank fucking God. I’m so glad that it’s you. I wanted it to be you. I was ready for it to not be, but I’m so fucking relieved.”

“Excellent,” said Shinsou, lifting your chin by tapping the underside of it, “because I love you so fucking much.” Cradling the back of your head, Shinsou pulled you into a fervent kiss, desperate and firm as you’d been at first, but softening when you parted your lips a little, and the subsequent slide of his tongue against yours made your head buzz with pleasure, doubling when he let out a needy groan.

“Oh, my God, you’re fucking perfect,” you said, breaking off to breathe, and he chuckled, resting his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips to your bare skin there. “Wait. You used your quirk on me. I don’t know what you’re on about, Hitoshi; it felt incredible.”

“That would be the orgasm you just rode out on my thigh, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling into you, cold and hot at the same time.

“No, it was something different, too, something I felt when Neito used your quirk on me. It feels—it felt like you were holding me, unbearably fond and full of compassion.”

Shinsou blinked, his eyelashes brushing against your neck. “Well. I’ve never heard my quirk described as something affectionate. If it’s like that way for you, then I’m glad.” He took a deep breath, the exhale fanning over you, and he pressed his lips to your neck, letting them linger, softly puckered, before speaking again.“I’m so fucking glad I don’t have to dance around my feelings anymore with the dumbass teaching sessions. I’m out of practise, anyway, since I stopped doing them for anyone else a long time ago; you caught me being evil, right? When I allowed myself to be me instead of the dom I moulded myself into.”

“I noticed,” you said, bringing a hand up to scratch the base of his scalp, and he fucking moaned. After a brief pause, you continued, feeling powerful and loved. “But good. Good. I was—I was scared of going further, but I didn’t know how else to keep you acting all romantical with me. I don’t wanna have sex with you. Yet. I’m not ready.”

“I know,” he said, and you felt his grin as he pressed a light kiss to your neck, once, twice. “I don’t wanna have sex with you, too.”

“How romantic.”

“You know what I meant,” he grumbled, blowing cold air over the slight wet spots he’d left, and you shivered with a laugh. “I will wait however long you need to. I’m in no rush.” He propped his head sideways on your shoulder, looking up at you. “To be honest, I know I wouldn’t last, even if we did. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna come the moment I touch your sweet cunt.”

“How romantic,” you deadpanned again, Shinsou’s huff tickling you, and your fingers curled into his soft hair. “But yeah. I love you. And now—now we can be sincere about it. Real. We don’t have to hold back anymore.” You gently guided Shinsou up so that you could cup his face and smile at him, lips close enough to suggest another kiss. “You can love me with everything you’ve got.”

Face framed by your hands, Shinsou looked like he was in the clouds. “That I can do.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

Zoro x reader

Summary: A man seeks to follow his dreams, following only the path his swords carve for him and wherever his crew goes. Little does he know that the missing piece in his life, his soulmate whom he doesn't admit that he tries to seek would end up in a love-hate relationship.

Chapter One

____________________________________

Chapter Six

The mumurs of distaste coming rom the crowd was the first thing you heard after being hauled over to God knows where. The sound of pained screams made your heart rench, whips coming into contacting with s sensative skin. You grit your teeth. There were countless numbers of men, women and even children.

That sick bastard

The guard pushed you forward, closer to the pained cries. Closer to your upcoming doom. You knew the execution stands alll too well. Father made sure all his children knew that though it was unsavory it was necessary to provide justice.

There were high stands where royalty sat and watched executions Be it hanging, beheading or firing squad. A large raised platform was situatdd in the middle of the

It was a known saying, that the scars on a swordsman's back were a swordsman's shame. Same would go for a royal, a princess. Scars would mean they were a terrible leader or did a terrible deed. Whips were for criminals, murderers, those who force themselves on others, not for innocents.

The sack around your head was harshly removed and you had to adjust your eyes from the sun's glare.

The crowd seemed to have gone silent for one...two...

"NOOOOO!"

"LET HER GO!!!

"PRINCESS!!!!"

"YOUR MAJESTY!!!"

"MY QUEEN!!!!"

"DON'T DO THIS!!!"

The crowd was trying to push past the soldiers who stood across the raised platform, wanting to free the only living daughter they knew of from their late king whom they loved. Feet scuffling against the sandy pavements caused some dust to pick up and before the people knew it the soldiers free their swords to ward them off. Some getting injured in the frey.

Cassius sat at the stands high above, watching as you were placed beside the many victims. He wasn't the only one watching. All of the Council sat there, watching. Not making a move to help the girl they had seen grown up amongst them in the palace halls.

Your eyes met with his, filled with seething hatred but all they were met with a satisfied smirk, lips drinking in a cup of whine as if it were a mere show.

If your hands werent tied you could have flipped him off.

Soon you were placed beside the line of victims being whipped, your heard thudding at the prospect of the pain. You had seen the backs of those who were whipped a few minutes before you. Bloody and beginners to bruise and every cry they let out struck a chord in your heart.

Rough hands held you down as a dagger was brought too closer for comfort to your neck, the man holding it gave you a sinister smile, a few of his teeth were missing and most of them were rotting. One eye seemed to be of glass.

'Oh God'

They had brought the most sadistic executioner back, rehiring him especially for you. Kerwin the Cruel.

The dagger ripped through the back of your dress with ease, exposing it for the whole crowd to see. The crowd was starting to get a bit more frantic but with the soldiers holding them off with sharp blades and no mercy they realised you were doomed from the start.

You tried to keep the dress together to atleast keep your front covered, the sound of his boots carrying him till he grabbed his whip resounded in my ears. Kerwin was known for his tastes in torture, carrying a whip made of kangaroo hide with pieces of metal layered inside it. There was no way of surviving this. He once killed a man as large as a mountain with that thing.

"NOOO!!"

"PRINCESS!"

"OUR QUEEN!"

"GET ON WITH IT ALREADY." Cassius ordered, an impatient look on his face. All of the council sat beside him. Some looking away and others watching with bated breath.

"Do me a favour princess," Kerwin chuckled as he reared back his arm and flicking the whip into the air. It sounded like thunder across a metal roof. "Scream for me."

____________________________________

Zoro felt it before he heard her.

Everyone had gone offboard to look for prospective places to go shopping. He was fortunate enough to look for a restaurant with Luffy.

Only, everywhere they went, it was empty, the shops not even closed properly.

They stopped at a restaurant, it's sign having dark blue cursive words , " Zinhle's Diner"

"Where'd everybody go?" Luffy said, looking around before taking one of the plates and eating the chicken curry on it. It was still warm.

"Why would people leave everything like that?" Zoro asked aloud as he grabbed a bottle and popped it open to quench his thirst.

"I don't know, but more food for me!" Luffy said with a large smile as he started eating everything at arms length.

Zoro caught sight of a woman running towards past the place, her hair in disarray, her eyes watering.

"What's up with you?!"

She continued to run until Luffy wrapped a rubbery arm around her and yanking her back.

"Let me go! Please!"

"Relax lady, we're not gonna hurt you." Luffy reassured, his face going blank as he tried to think of why the woman was crying.

"Please, I must get to her. I must save mi'lady." She said, and now that her words were more clear Zoro eyes the sword at her him.

"Can you even use that?"

She went silent for a second, making it clear she couldn't with her lack of response.

"I need to go. SHE NEEDS ME!"

"Listen, I need to to exp– Zoro felt his unimaginable pain on his back. Hefelt his body betray him as he fell to the ground. He's back, usually unscarred and untouched by a single weapon or hand felt a seering pain. He held in the painful groan.

"ZORO?!" Luffy let go of the woman to help his swordsman friend, the lady running back onto the path, a determined look on her face.

"I'm fine Luffy, I'm –

And that's when he heard her. He felt his heart stop.

aaaAAAAAHHHHHH!

Luffy's froze at the scream. The air stilled as Zoro picked himself up, a look worthy to scare demons away etched on his face. He felt the brunt of the second hit more harshly than the first. His senses going into hyper drive as he practically flew in the same direction that the other woman had gone.

____________________________________

Nami and Ussop had come across the roaring crowds blocking the streets. The soldiers holding shields and drawn swords to cut down any more protesters.

"What's going on here?" Nami said, turning to look at her bestie who was carrying almost all her bags with hundred of complaints being delivered out his lips.

Upahead they saw about a hundred men, women and children on a stage, their backs bloody, and the soldiers hitting them rearing back to inflict more pain. Nami pulled out her staff, getting ready to fight. Ussop placed the bags down, pulling out Kabuto, his larger slingshot.

____________________________________

You closed your eyes in pain as the third hit made impact with your back.

Cassius amused laugh barely registered into your mind as you could hear Kerwin rearing back his arm for another hit.

The crowds were now running towards the armed soldiers, not caring for the swords.

"PRINCESSS!"

'Lyra?' you felt your body recoil as the air hit against your now sensitive back.

You looked up to the stands where Cassius sat, clapping his hands. Where every one of them was looking.

Ser Randall, Lord Alexander, Maester Caius, Lady Genevieve. Cassius.

You heard the man ready to whip you for the fourth time let out a joyful cackle.

Kerwin.

I'll kill you all for this

The air went still, heavy pressure knocking down the other soldiers. Kerwins whip was a second away from making the fourth hit. Your eyes closed, bracing for the next hit that was yet to marry your body for life.

But it never came. Only Kerwin's bloodcurdling scream.

"AAAARRGGHHHH!"

A tall figure stood infront behind you, gold earrings gleaming in the blazing sun light.

Kerwin's arm lay limp metres away from your spot, still holding onto the whip. Kerwin rolled onto the floor in agony, his body trying to adjust to the sudden loss of his limb.

"Lay your hands on her again and I'll cut off the other." Threatened as his stormy grey eyes met with Cassius shocked ones.

I looked up to see what was happening, my eyes widening at the green haired man infront of me, one of his swords drawn and his stance ready to cut down anyone who came near.

Who?

And the dark markings on his wrist visible. There in black cursive ink were your initials. They began to glow to an almost liquid gold.

"AND WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" Cassius sneered. All of the council began to stand, getting ready to fight the new threat.

A man in a strawhat sprung up to stand beside the swordsman, a woman with long orange hair and a lomg-nosed man hopped onto the stairs of the stage. The smell of smoke invaded your nostrils and soon enough a blond man with a curly eyebrow took off his jacket and carefully placed it on you to make you warm.

The green haired man gave Cassius a daring look, his sword glinting with his every move with the threat of death.

"Who do you think I am...The names Roronoa Zoro..."

Cassius went silent

"Her soulmate."

TO BE CONTINUED...

____________________________________

I'm baaack! Been trying to find out how to make it epic.

Taglist:

@bi-narystars @urbisexualfriend

@chillerkiller @mythicallystupid

@gaslysainz @qxuanii

@mars-mizuko

Zoro x reader

Summary: A man seeks to follow his dreams, following only the path his swords carve for him and wherever his crew goes. Little does he know that the missing piece in his life, his soulmate whom he doesn't admit that he tries to seek would end up in a love-hate relationship. Wherein a princess and pirate cross paths.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

____________________________________

Chapter Five

You sat in your room, not moving, hair uncared for, body aching. It has been a while since your wedding, but it felt fresh in your heart like it was yesterday. Mother, father, Kyro, Amav. Ophelia and Rhen were yet to be found and you hoped that they left the island. You doubted they'd be left alive if they were. Lyra must have taken them seeing as she wasn't around either thankfully. All your family's loyal servants had been executed days after the wedding, the remaining were pledged to Cassius and his family.

You scratched your wrist, the mark stinging. Not too long ago pain unimaginable to anyone in the kingdom had seered through it, leaving you screaming in absolute pain. It was so bad that you were taken to the doctor.

Everyday you were forced to play the role of the dutiful wife to your murderous husband. Disregarding the vengeful hate inside, you stood up, did the necessary tasks for hygiene and wore a black dress to honour your family's deaths.

"Ah, my darling wife!" Cassius said as he sat on the throne, dismissing advisors. Your eyes scanned every one of them as they passed you, bowing their heads to not look you in the eye. Ser Randall, Lord Alexander, Maester Caius and Lady Genevieve. All of them.

Traitors.

You could guess that the kingdom didn't know of his heinous actions. Or maybe they did know, the executioners block has been used more times lately than in the past twenty years so you figured people wanted to keep their lives and not question the sudden trajedy.

"Your grace," You curtsied, wiping off the look of disgust you had given to the royal advisors.

"Lovely day isn't it? The second month that marks our marriage." He stood up, taking your hand and walking you outside the throne room into the open hallways of the castle. There was a brilliant view of the citadel from up there. The both of you leaned against the railing.

He looked at you, sparkling eyes like a lovesick puppy. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you look?"

"You always tell me that." You internally rolled your eyes, picking at you dress.

"Then I'll say it even more. You look beautiful."

The both of you looked at the view in front from the high balcony you had traveled to. Guards stood on both of your sides a distance away. You looked down, over the bannister. It would be an alarming drop, leaving no room for life. Your eyes went to Cassius who was enjoying the view , his arms crossed and a smile on his face.

Just on push, a strong one. Enough to end this nightmare. To save yourself from any more harm that would come to you.

"I bet our children will love this kingdom. Or maybe the other ones my family has ruled over. Did you know that our families have history?"

"No ,your grace." At the mention of children you nearly choked on your own disgust. It was a wonder how he hadn't bedded you already and you were grateful for that. Apparently their customs were different. They could be as cruel as they wanted to their subjects and enemies but never went to the level of sexual assault.

"Your grandfather had taken over our kingdom fify years ago. His men took all our women as wives. Our men were brutally murdered. The children were forced to become strangers in their own country, serving under his rule. Now here we are. I'm not as cruel as your grandfather. I've spoken with my advisors. I have been merciful."

"You call what you did merciful?" The anger within had flared up, forgetful of how calm you were supposed to act.

" It would have been worse, darling. I would have had every man and son slaughtered and give the women and girls over to cruel men. Maybe sell you to slavery or force you to work in my home country's pleasure houses."

Your eyes widened at the extent he was willing to go. Now the drop seemed more of an option for a willing princess. No, a willing queen. But you wanted to live long enough to kill the man who held your hand with deceptive love.

"You absolute psy–

–cho.

"Your majesty!" A soldier ran in, "There's protests taking place all over the citadel. Near the monuments." Cassius rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh.

"Just kill them and get over with it."

The soldier shook on the spot at Cassius' words."But mi'lord, they're you're people ."

Cassius raised an eyebrow,"And?"

Your eyes widened. "Those are lives, Cassius. people with families. Have mercy, please."

"They should have thought of their families before deciding to go against my rule." He grabbed a drink from the jugs placed near where the two of you stood." Infact, if you care so much you should go through the same thing they have to."

"What?" You furrowed your eyes in confusion, a hint of fear in your tone. He turned to you, the spark in his eyes dulled a tiny bit. There was a hint of something crazy in them there.

"Round up the protesters and have them whipped. Thirty lashes, or until they beg for death. I don't care., make it entertaining"

The soldier nodded , getting ready to walk away before being stopped by Cassius' hand. "After you're done with them, give the queen ten lashes. Since she loves her people so much."

Before you could respond, the guards who stood beside the both of you grabbed you roughly by the arms,dragging you somewhere you didn't know.

"NO! PLEASE, CASSIUS!"

Cassius waved at you as you were dragged away, taking a sip of his drink once more before throwing it over the balcony.

"I have a little surprise for you, my love!" He yelled in the distance

As you were lead down the halls towards the large doors of the place you once called home your ears heard the sound of screaming a bit far off. The castle wasn't too far from the markets and it was clear that they were either beimg caught like cattle there.

Another soldier appeared, placing a sack over your head.

_________________________________________

The Thousand Sunny sailed toward the next island on the logpose, a bright smile on Nami's face. "Looks like we're in luck, the kingdom of Rhysa. Known for its beautiful views, spas and lovely people."

"They're also known for the benevolent royal family that they have. Independent from pirate territories since they have a strong military." Robin added as she got ready to explore the island. A buzz of energy floated around the Strawhats. After having fought with the government, a few warlords and a few marine ships they needed a place to rest and recuperate.

"We could get alot of food too." Luffy said, mouth watering at the thought. His trademark hat atop his head.

Franky put on his sunglasses,"Some more cola for the ship too."

"All in all, we need to restock on a lot of things." Sanji got out of the kitchen, looking around for someone. His eyes went over his crewmates on deck; Robin, Nami, Luffy, Franky, Brook, Chopper and Ussop.

"Where's Mosshead?"

Everyone went quiet for a moment, looking to the side to find Zoro sitting cross-legged on the railing, looking at the distant island they were about to drop anchor at.

There was a small silence, filled with understanding at what might have their swordsman in such a mood.

"STOP BROODING, YOU IDIOT!" Sanji aimed to kick Zoro to get his attention. Zoro blocked Sanji's kick with one of his swords , not moving an inch from his spot.

"Something doesn't feel right."

_________________________________________

@urbisexualfriend

@bi-narystars

@mythicallystupid

@mars-mizuko

@chillerkiller

Zoro x reader

Summary: A man seeks to follow his dreams, following only the path his swords carve for him and wherever his crew goes. Little does he know that the missing piece in his life, his soulmate whom he doesn't admit that he tries to seek would end up in a love-hate relationship. Wherein a princess and pirate cross paths.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Five

____________________________________

Chapter Four

Dance lessons, decor planning, seating arrangements, guests, food, guards, flowers, attire fittings and so much more. That was what filled your schedule the past few weeks. The wedding had been delayed by another month due to extreme weather's that had balegan in the region but now preparations were at full swing.

You sat in the women's bathhouses releasing the stress and tension in your shoulders in the steaming hot water. Lyra had been dismissed for the day to attend to family matters leaving you to peruse the places a princess was allowed to be in the kingdom. Meaning no visits to the sea.

Secretly you were hoping to catch a break from it all. The questions like " How do you feel now that you're getting married?" and statements such as "Congratulations,my lady." You were getting tired of seeing prince Cassius attending to your every step and move like a love-struck puppy.

No offence to the man ofcourse , he was lovely. He brought flowers almost all the time he met you. He littered your hand with soft kisses when ever he'd greet. He'd humour you with tales of his upbringing as well as asked to know more about you. He was everything a maiden would dream of. But in your eyes it felt like a farce.

You didn't even know how to explain it. Like that feeling in your body that gives you warning signals about people. Sometimes they were wrong, most times they were right.

You hoped to whatever high power that was out there that you were wrong.

"Fancy seeing you here." Your older sister, Ophelia, broke you out of your thoughts. She was like the carbon copy of your mother. Dutiful, kind, obedient and gorgeous. She deserved the best. Why couldn't she marry Cassius? She is the eldest daughter and is far more graceful than the young woman who sits on precarious rocks just to stare longingly at the ocean.

"I got tired of people stripping me bare to fit me into wedding dresses."

Ophelia held in a laugh," You make it sound like it's torture." She settled into the water, making sure her hair didn't touch the wet surface.

"Picture getting naked infront of a bunch of strangers." You reached out for the small cup of sake you decided to treat yourself with.

She frowned," We are forbidden from drinking."

You downed the cup infront of you and poured yourself another,"Hasn't stopped me, has it?"

"I swear that tolerance of yours is just as high as father's, maybe even worse." She moved closer and stole the bottle, placing it far from your reach, much to your chagrin. "What's got you in such a stupor– you gave her a look–besides the whole wedding situation?"

Before the words of complaint could even leave your lips you refrained. If you told her what you truly felt it wouldnt change much, maybe she might report to mother. Then you'd be scolded for not being grateful at being married to such a kind prince.

"The weather. It's been looking rather awful." You sighed and looked away, the bottle looking quite comforting as it sat out of your reach.

"That doesn't make sense."

You looked her in the eyes, "Some day it will, I just don't know when." Standing up from the water you grabbed a towel and the your bottle and left the place, making sure to leave the place decent.

Damn, I miss Lyra.

_________________________________________

It was yours and Prince Cassius wedding.

Celebrations, well-wishers, and sexual innuendos thrown by that one uncle. Happy times.

"Lyra, get me another bottle please." You whispered to your trusted handmaiden and friend.

"It's not that bad ,my lady!" She chuckled.

Noble men, women,and honoured guests were feasting. The bards played songs of victory about past battles and later sang love songs to soothe everyone's hearts.

"A TOAST TO MY GORGEOUS DAUGHTER!" A half drunk king yelled," MY PRIDE AND JOY!" Everyone cheered with him and downed their drinks in one go. Mother shook her head with a smile before throwing a wink at you and mouthing "We love you."

Honestly seeing your father drunk was both concerning and heartwarming. Concerning because he never could get drunk with his alcohol tolerance. Heartwarming because he said what he truly felt about his family. About you. Then again there were times when he'd be violent, arguing with his advisors. Then other amusing times when he had refused to sit next to your mother because , to quote, "I LOVE MY WIFE ONLY WOMAN! DONT TEST MY PATIENCE!" which had occured years ago. He thought mother was trying to seduce him but he refused thinking she was another woman.

Now he was yelling blessings like a proud man. Mother took a small sip of her wine beside him, making sure that atleast one of them was a bit sober. That sound decisions could be made.

Your brothers; Amav and Kyro, twins , were dancing with a few ladies, sharing some funny jokes. Their eyes crinkling as they laughed. Ophelia sat beside mother like a dutiful daughter, not taking a sip of the drink in front of her. But she definitely was enjoying the cake. Rhen, the youngest of you all, only ten, was busy climbing on father's chair to try and take a sip of his drink only to be taken away by Lyra who scolded him on his actions.

Maybe getting married wasn't so bad. Maybe life would get better from now and for years to come. You felt an uneasy feeling, the mark at your wrist stinging. Maybe your soulmate was hurt? It's not disappearing so he's not dead.

Forgive me my love, I may have left you before I could even learn to love you

"Berry for your thoughts, my bride?" Cassius asked, his right hand linking with your left. His gaze falling to yours, eyes bright. Lips smiling. The same lips you had kissed when you said your vows. The man you'd be bound to for eternity, not by fate but by law.

You smiled," It's a wonderful day. The kingdom rejoices. No wars to be fought. It's perfect."

"And how are you? You speak of everything else but yourself, darling." He brought a spoon with cake to your lips. You ate it.

"To be fair, this arrangement felt so sudden. I have yet to learn who Cassius from Arkland is and he is yet to know me." The music faded as the two of you conversed. Dancing had begun and soon your mother and father were on the dance floor and Cassius' parents.

"You have yet to learn about me, my bride." He stood up, offering his hand,"For now you can learn about my exceptional dance skills."

You hesitate,"That's a start I guess." And he whisked you away, carrying you bridal style towards the middle of the ballroom and gently placing you on your feet.

His right hand went to your waist, his left holding onto your hand and soon he led you across the floors to the rhythm of the song.

The crowds of guests had stood aside, watching the two of you as if the both of you were a fairytale. Like you were meant for each other, like soulmates.

A wolf whistle could be heard coming from the crowd," THATS MY SISTER!!" Kyro yelled, a proud smile on his features. Amav hit him over the head before he could embarrass himself further. "YOU LOOK AMAZING!" He yelled, forgetting his earlier intentions and screaming his heart out.

You nearly laughed at the sight.

"We may have started off as strangers, my lady. Trust me when I say I was against the idea of suddenly marrying a woman and trying to get to know her for a few months." Cassius admitted , his breath fanning your neck sending goosebumos down your spine.

"You and I both then."

The music crescendos and he spun you around before lifting you into the air and placing you back down gently. "But now that I've seen you. Now that I know your gentle heart. I can't help but fall into the abyss of a foreign feeling. "

You kept up with his pace, moving in and out before spinning again. Your dress billowing around you. You took note of his wording. Smiling up at him as he smiled at you. Only letting the false smile go when your back was to him.

Lyra watched as the both of you danced like two swans in a lake. It was clear to her that Cassius was leading. She saw all those dance lessons making her lose hope in your sense of rhythm.

Her eyes went to see Cassius' mother and father. They hadn't drunk the wine at all throughout the wedding. Maybe they were abstainimg from it? No. It was something more. Lyra herself liked to indulge in a drink or two but since her lady was keeping those drinks occupied throughout the wedding she decided to be sober in the case of making sure no one took advantage. Not even her husband. She held little Rhen by the hand, leading her toward the exit to get her changed since some food had stained her dress. She passed a coughing attendant and handed her a glass of water. "Are you alright?" She knelt down and gave her a napkin seeing an alarmingly red substance get wiped off when the woman let go of the napkin. "Blood...?"

"Do you want to know what that feeling is my love?" Cassius whispered back to you. It was like he was sharing a secret nobody had to know but you. An intimate secret.

He pulled you in, grip gentle but firm. You furrowed an eyebrow, moving in a bit closer to try and hear him over the music. "What is it, if I may ask."

He went in, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. Once they parted, he kissed your temple. "Guilt my love. As much love as I may harbour for you, I doubt it would be enough for you to reconsider and forgive me."

Your eyes looked into his, the music blocking out almost everything going on around you. Almost.

Coughs had erupted from everyone. The results of their coughing dripping down slowing from their lips, eyes wide in fear and shock.

"GET A DOCTOR!" Ophelia had yelled, trying to get your collapsed father from the floor. You mother had tears in her eyes, tears of pain. On the other side of the crowd lay Amav and Kyro unmoving. Their hands held tightly together from trying to previously pick each other up once the other had collapsed. Their lips coated in blood.

It was something out of a nightmare. Blood splattered every where, on the floor, on the table. Your eyes widened in horror.

"What did you do?!" You tried to push against Cassius chest to try and assist your family. To try and save your guests.

"I don't like it at all. But mother says it's the most effective method." He said, no longer whispering in your ears . "Painless."

Lyra's eyes widened and quickly she ran and pulled Ophelia away from the dead bodies of her mother and father. Rhem was frozen in shock , being pulled away by Lyra.

"Come on, we have to get out of here!" Her eyes went to her friend, to you. She'd promised herself she would save you later. That she'd make sure to get you back alive. First she had to get the royals in her care out if harm's way.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you begged for Cassius to let you go. Your heart unable to take the loss of your family and friends. You pushed and kicked but it was as if he felt nothing. All your strength had left you, and not even the buzz of the alcohol in your system could numb the hurt.

"YOU MONSTER!!!!"

He hushed you, placing your head on his chest as you cried. Your voice faded into a whisper, "You monster!?"

True to what you had thought , promises are merely words used to appease fools. A wedding to unite families. A promise. Everyone was a fool.

_________________________________________

Zoro woke up in a cold sweat, his eyes searching the room. Everyone was asleep in their beds, fully knocked out from all the fighting they had done in Enemies Lobby. He stood up and headed for the bathroom.

His hands held the sink as if he was trying to steady himself. Zoro looked in the mirror. Locks of green strewn all over his forehead, dark circles under his eyes, heartbeat going to fast. What the hell was happening? It's like his heart was shattering into pieces but he didn't know why. From what he knew, he thought the mark on his wrist was just there to tell himwho his soulmate was. What's with all the random emotions?

"Are you alright Zoro?" Robin's voice broke him out of his thoughts. She had a cup of tea in her hands.

The swordsman nodded, though it wasn't believable to the woman."I'm guessing it's your soulmate?"He stayed silent before turning on the tap and washing his face to try and wake up.

"I may be able to help you. If you want me to..." She offered. Ever since she had joined the Strawhats she felt safe, happy. The thought of them getting hurt because of her past had scared her. Made her surrender to CP9. Now she had been rescued from the World Government's clutches thanks to her friends, her family.

Zoro deleted his pride for the moment, thinking about the pro's and cons of opening up the shell that is his soulmate. "Yeah,"

They found themselves outside, Zoro facing the waves as they lapped against the ship. Robin took a seat at one of the chairs that had been left outside. She took a sip of her tea.

"So..."

"So?"

"What do you wanna know, Swordsman.?"

Zoro stood silently, thinking about whether or not he would want to ask the question. The crew would tease him if they found out how much he really cared about whoever he was connected to. That he would be willing to die for them. He grew up with the mark as a reminder that he wasn't alone out here in this great big world. Now he was never alone with this crew. But what about the person he was meant to love?is she alone?Does she have a family?

"Do soulmate marks get you physically?" He didn't know how to word the question.

"Well, according to research made for centuries, your type of mark does infact connect you to your soulmate, anything like strong emotions and injuries, though those are faint when felt." She answered, adjusting her gown due to the cold wind.

"What does it mean if it actually felt really painful?"

Robin hesitated then looked at him, "Then it must be something extremely traumatic or extreme happiness."

Zoro frowned, there was no f-ing way that the feeling he felt was happiness. It was a feeling of broken hopes. Hurt. Mourning.

"And is there a way we can trace where my soulmate mark is bonded to?"

Robin shook her head, a small frown on hsr face.

Zoro sighed, maybe it truly was up to fate to bring both you and your love together and judgkng by how the mark is slightly faint anything could happen.

@chillerkiller

@mars-mizuko

@mythicallystupid

@bi-narystars

@urbisexualfriend

Zoro x reader

Zoro x femreader

Summary: A man seeks to follow his dreams, following only the path his swords carve for him and wherever his crew goes. Little does he know that the missing piece in his life, his soulmate whom he doesn't admit that he tries to seek would end up in a love-hate relationship. Wherein a princess and pirate cross paths.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

_________________________________________

Chapter Three

You found yourself on the very same large rock at your islands beach, eyes looking over to the ocean. The mark in your wrist reminding you of the small ache in your heart. Your soulmate.

No night ever falls without your mind going to whoever out there in the world was meant for you. Someone who would choose you first. Someone who would love you unconditionally without the expected duty. You honestly didn't know how to explain what you felt.

"Penny for your thoughts, my lady?"A whisper broke you out if your thoughts, a small squeak barely escaping your lips before you felt yourself slipping from the rocks surface. The drop would be devastating had it not been for firm arms immediately wrapping themselves around your waist and pulling you flush against the one who intruded in your quiet time.

"My lady! I'm so sorry, he– I didn't see him pass throug–"

"It's alright Lyra. I'm alright." Your eyes went to your friend who seemed to have been thrown into panic, her rushed steps trying to balance in the rocks to try and reach you. Alas you were in the arms of the man you were promised to marry, Prince Cassius.

He let out a small huff of amusement as he picked you up bridal style and headed down the variously shaped rocks with waves crashing harshly against them. Soon Lyra, Cassius and you had landed safely on the dock, the prince placing you down.

"I apologize, princess. I wished to speak with you but I had been informed that you weren't in the castle."

You nodded, a look of curiosity at what he wanted to talk to you about.

"...then I asked your sister and brothers where you ought to be at this hour and they didn't know..."

"How did you find me here?"

He smiled," I have my ways, princess. Or should I refer to you as my beloved seeing as we are to wed in a month's time."

'A MONTH!'

"Pardon, a month you say?" The mark on your wrist felt like a rocks piling up on top of your body, held up by little hope.

"Exactly why I wanted to talk to you. My father spoke with the king and have agreed on a date at around this time next month.

You stayed silent. Looking up at his chestnut brown eyes,the unnoticeable freckles on his face. His sharp nose. 'My children might inherit that'

"I know this is a large step for you." His hands went to yours, fingers trailing over R.Z that's was etched onto your wrist by fate. His lip quirked down in unnoticeable displeasure at its sight. " I will do my best to love you as much as any soulmate would. Maybe even more."

His eyes locked onto yours longer than you were used to, his words were like a promise. One that wouldn't be broken. But promises are merely words used to appease fools. Maybe right now you would allow yourself to believe. What could possibly go wrong?

_______________________________________

"Don't you wonder who your soulmate is?" Sanji said as he placed a cigarette to his lips. His eyes went to the uncovered mark on Zoro's wrist. The whole time he had gotten to know the swordsman he never heard much word about his soulmate. The matter shut down with a glare or met with silence.

Everyone present on deck almost held their breath. Robin , Nami, even Luffy.

"I have thought about them." Zoro answered, taking a sip of the bottle in his hands,"I've never stopped." And true to his word he never has.

The sun never rose without his mind wandering to the mark on his wrist. The one connection he had with the person who was truly meant for him.

All his life Zoro had been fighting. He fought in Shimotsuki Village, growing up. He fought in Shells Town before and after he met Luffy. Now he's in Skypeia and he's fought since since Enel had discovered them. Almost everyday he fights to fulfill his dream. To become the world's greatest swordsman.

But do dreams keep a man warm? Do dreams chase after him as much as he does?

He loves his crew, would die for them even. But what is this feeling of loneliness that lies deep within the pit of his stomach and cuts deeper that a sword against his skin.

He looked at the swirly haired cook, the bane of his existence.

"Then why don't you try to find them?!" Luffy yelled, his face staying in confusion. "They're somewhere out there aren't they?"

Nami slapped Luffy upside the head. "Don't be an idiot Luffy. The world's too big. He or she could be anywhy."

"Not to mention that anyone can have those initials." Robin added, paging through her book.

"And they could possibly be a marine, a rival pirate, a serial killer, an arsonist, a murderer and other very bad things." Chopper added as he came back from restocking the infirmary. He sat down beside Robin as she read.

"You guys really know how to cheer up a guy," Sanji said as he blew out a puff of smoke," Those are realistic expectations. But let's be positive for a second."

"Skip the positivity, I'd rather not sit around and wait to be swept off my feet. Life goes on. I'm sure wherever my soulmate is she's fine." Zoro took one last gulp of his drink. Washing down the sense of foreboding that plagued his senses

_________________________________________

She in fact wasn't gonna be fine

@mars-mizuko

@bi-narystars

@mythicallystupid

@urbisexualfriend

Zoro x reader

Soulmate AU

Summary: A man seeks to follow his dreams, following only the path his swords carve for him and wherever his crew goes. Little does he know that the missing piece in his life, his soulmate whom he doesn't admit that he tries to seek would end up in a love-hate relationship. Wherein a princess and pirate cross paths.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Two

____________________________________

"Your Grace. I present to you, Prince Cassius of the Arkand." The royal Stewart announced.

You sat beside your older sisters. Your brothers sitting beside your father. Being the middle child of five children really put you in the position to get married off, seeing as there was no hope of gaining the throne.

Prince Cassius' escorts had entered the grand throneroom. They came in with a flurry of green and blue, representative of their kingdom's dominant colours.

You were surprised at how they managed to fit a large elephant carrying the said prince, it's back decorated with soft rugs and golden jewels. Your eyes went up and met with fiery brown ones, his smile breaking out at the sight of you scanning his features. Dark hair with skin kissed by the sun. It was a mystery to you on how he hadn't been married years earlier even if he was the same age if not a bit older than you.

The elephant stopped in front of the throne and the prince slid down the elephant without any hassle as though he usually did so daily. The rest of his people followed behind as he walked up to the steps that led to where the royals sat and bowed.

There was a small silence as your father looked over towards your future husband and his parade. He stood up, leading everyone present to stamd up.

"It is an honour to have you present." Your father said, his eyes still cold yet welcoming.

"No your majesty, it is my honour," The prince replied with a silky voice, his eyes glancing at you before a small smirk graced his features," You have allow us to take care of one of the many flowers in your beautiful garden."

You quirked an eyebrow in thought, 'Do I go through photosynthesis too?'

"We hope to nurture and care for her as much as you and your kingdom have, if not, more."

Your father chuckled," I am glad to hear that, bit for now, onto the celebrations. I hear your father may come in later since he's handling another matter."

"He will Your Grace, and he sends his regards as well as apologies for being late."

Your father nodded before gesturing to your kingdom's stewart," Lead them to the dining hall. They had a long journey, they must be hungry."

Soon the visitors from Arkland had followed the man. Their servants heading out to place the large and cute elephant somewhere it could rest. Your father made his way with your mother in hand. Your brother's trailing behind with their own swagger. Your sisters taking a glance at you with a small smile before heading to the dining hall.

Lyra almost seemed to magically appear beside you as you walked," So, what do you think?"

You looked at her," Judging by the fact that he looks like God took his time to make him and that he only gets a wife now, I may be dealing with either a hoe or a Draco Malfoy."

"Actually your highness, people of Arkland are only allowdyto marry from the moment they reach 18. He's had two years to find a wife and only now accepts a partner. " Lyra stated.

"Still doesn't change the–"

"I also hear that he's one of the many who don't have a soulmate mark. Rumours speculate that whoever it would have been must've died long before he could meet them."

Your eyes widened in shock and a bit of empathy started to form withing your heart. How much it like to not have known or felt a soulmate mark on your body. No red string, no tattoo, no initial..

"Well, maybe I'll be a bit kinder then." Your hand went to the sting you felt in the initial on your wrist, pulse beating through it. 'What if whoever they are is hurt?'

The thougt had come one evening when the supposed initial had seemed to fade a bit but now it was darker than it was.

_________________________________________

Zoro had enough. Not only did he feel a weird sense pulsating through his body, hos eyes were searching around for where everyone went. It felt like he was going in circles.

In truth he was lost trying to find where the Arlong Pirates were. Again. Nami had set him free and now that the truth about her having saved Ussop from dying at the hands of the fishmen reviving everyone's hope to save her. But his navigational skills were nonexistent so he resolved to finding someone he knew.

He caught sight of Sanji lighting one of his cigarettes. Approaching the cook he saw Luffy in the distance, without his hat. Nami beside him.

'Im guessing it's time to fight, properly.'

He disregarded the feel of his wounds aching after his fight with Mihawk a few days ago. Now was not the time to lick wounds. It was time to save a friend.

____________________________________

@mythicallystupid

@mars-mizuko

Zoro x reader

Zoro x femreader

Soulmate AU

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Summary: A man seeks to follow his dreams, following only the path his swords carve for him and wherever his crew goes. Little does he know that the missing piece in his life, his soulmate whom he doesn't admit that he tries to seek would end up in a love-hate relationship. Wherein a princess and pirate cross paths.

No use of Y/n in this chapter . Trying my hand at writing a story with chapters for Zoro

____________________________________

Chapter One

Zoro felt the cool breeze caress his skin and sighed with contentment. It's been almost two months since he had left Shimotsuki Village. He had managed to get some Berry when he had taken out a weak band of pirates, the money in his pocket as he entered a small restaurant and slid onto a stool.

Before he could order anything the sound of a little girl calling his name caught his attention. Rika had run to him with a bowl of chocolate covered onigiri.

"Oh hey,"

The store owner had smiled at the smile in her daughter's face as she gave Zoro the bowl of food."Thank you for helping out, the pirates are gone, Mr Zoro."

A haughty man with a double chin had appeared with two marines beside him. He had swaggered his way through the small crowd. He had taken a bite of Rika's food and threw it to the ground in disdain. The plate shattering along with the poor girls hard work in preparing the dish.

"That tastes disgusting, little girl. That's not how you prepare food, much less serve it to others." The blonde man said harshly. Before Zoro knew it he had tried to stand up for the said girl but due to the bounty he had accumulated over the past few weeks he was to stay in the confines of the detainment yard. Tied up and unfed, left to wake up to the blinding light of the sun and the cold chills of the night air.

That was where he had met a strawhatted boy who seemed no older than himself. One with dreams as large as his. Maybe it was God's will. Maybe it was the Fates orchestrating all of this. Zoro wouldn't know. He didn't believe anything many believed. He'd tie everything to luck being in his favour.

He looked down at his bandaged wrist as he and Monkey D. Luffy , his new captain, sailed away from the island after having said goodbye to the few friends they happened to make

As much as he had kept himself in denial about the initials written on his wrist,bandaged and far from anyone's curious eyes a deep curiosity within him wondered about who his supposed soulmate could be.

____________________________________

A young woman sat atop a large rock surrounded by crashing waves. Her eyes were closed, lips parted,as she breathed in the sea breeze.

"Mi'lady?" Her handmaiden, Lyra, tried to get her attention,' We shouldn't be here too long."

The young woman stood up from her spot, her regal dress that was once bunched up had went back to being in its formal position, reaching past her ankles. She lifted up her dress to try and avoid getting it wet and hopped across onto the other rocks that had created a path that lead to the wooden dock. Her feet had contact with the wooden structure.

Lyra swiftly pulled out a towel and a pair of shoes and got to work on removing any dirt from her lady's feet and putting on the shoes. Alas her friend tried to move away and make her stand up.

"I could do it myself."

"Then what job would I have? Besides, that dress won't let you reach your feet."

Her handmaiden countered. The woman sighed. Once both feet had shoes on the two travelled back through a secret pathway. Left, right, under the merchant bridge and through the gardens. Eventually they found themselves back to the palace.

"I have something to tell you, Mi'lady." Lyra said softly as they walked through the palace halls."Something I heard ."

"What is it?"

Once the two had gotten to an isolated hallway, Lyra turned to the princess and held both if her hands gently.

"Your mother wishes to arrange a political marriage." The princess's eyes widened in surprise.

"But she knows I have a soulmate?"

Lyra nodded, her had absent mindedly going to trace the initials of her mistress as well as friend's wrist. "She knows, but she figures you might never find him. It is rare to find people with the initials R.Z "

"But not impossible."

"This is your mother, the queen, that we're talking about. She wants you wedded before you reach 20." Lyra gave her a look.

"She's gonna ship me off to some random nobleman, and when he finds his soulmate I will be cast aside like an old fashion trend."

"I'm sorry Mi'lady." Lyra pulled the princess into a comforting hug,and the young woman melted against her.

"It will be alright."

____________________________________

Dream catcher pt1

Soulmate Marks AU, RamKing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097002

Everyone had a soul-Mark. The universe’s stamp on two people to mark them as soulmates. Some were a simple shape, others were lyrics, words or complex images. They could be in black and white, or full bursting colour. They could be positioned anywhere on the body. Rare cases they were under the hair or on the tongue.

Out of King’s friends, only a few of them showed off their soulmate marks. Bohn’s was on his left arm, positioned just above the crease of his elbow. A bouquet of red roses about ten centimetres tall. He wore it with a certain smug pride. The beautiful design much too pretty for someone of his character, their friendship group agreed. Boss and Mek both had the same soul-marks. The couple having been together since they were freshmen. They wore the black circular patterned marks like a fact. They belonged together, no-one could deny it.

King didn’t particularly care for the marks. His was stamped on his back at the base of his neck between his shoulder blades. A remarkably complex image of a dream catcher with black lines curling around the feathers. He liked to keep it out of the way, not hidden exactly, but private. Soulmates were an intimate thing. King knew that his would come along eventually. He was not going to go and search for them. For now, his plants and his studies occupied his time. But sometimes when he would admire it in the mirror, neck twisting awkwardly to see it, he would smile. It was such a stark black and white image, but complex and soothing. King would occasionally wonder if it would protect him against bad dreams.

The whole thing began when Bohn started to pursue a younger medical student called Duen. King found the situation amusing. Bohn insisted that the boy was his soulmate. The red roses Duen turned up with every morning proof. It was fun to see the cocky playboy Bohn so entranced. It took a few weeks before they got together but after that they were seen regularly around campus with besotted smiles. The red bouquet of roses on Duen’s wrist matching Bohn’s.

King was having to excuse himself from lunch early in order to get away from the two sets of couples. Boss ranting on about some test while Mek watched lovingly. Duen and Bohn smiling shyly at each other between every few bites. It was all sickened adorable. King had to get a book from the library anyway, so he excused himself early. Tee had gave him a pleading look as he left. The man now the third wheel. King made a mental note to hang out with that friend more, now that the rest of their group was occupied.

The library was quite quiet that day. King began strolling through the shelves, fingers trailing along the spines as he looked for the book he wanted. He was supposed to go to the engineering section at the back but he got distracted by the plant section next to the fiction books. He decided on a quick detour and began to read through the titles. After a few seconds, the sounds of soft footsteps made him look up. A younger student passed by the aisle and King remembered that he still had to find his study book. Reluctantly, he parted with the plants and followed the student round to the engineering section.

He found the book easily enough and pulled it from the shelf, tucking it under his arm. His eye caught something through the gap between the shelves. The student was leaning against the shelf opposite, reading the back of a book. He was mixed, paler than King, with a finely cut angled face. He was handsome. Short hair gelled back and black skinny jeans with ripped knees hugging his legs. The paleness of his skin and the way he stood gave off a silent stoic air. His tattoos and the ripped jeans making him look cool and aloof.

That was not what got King’s attention though, although his brain absorbed the information anyway. No, what he was looking at was the black design behind the man’s left ear. A dream catcher with black swirls dancing around the feathers. The swirls looking like the stems of a plant. King had to blink a few times as a jolt of surprise rant through him. His own matching mark itched under his shirt.

His soulmate was right there. King hadn’t been expecting him, nor had he been looking. But there he was. The man’s eyes flickered up, as if he could feel King’s gaze. King hurriedly looked away, trying not to blush at being caught. When he looked back up, the other man had disappeared. King tried to quell the rising disappointment. He would see the other again. With a sigh, he took his book up to the checkout desk. He’d see the cool looking boy again.

——

The second time he saw him, the guy was bent over a plate on the grass. King paused and poured the last few drops of his drink into the nearest plant pot before wondering over.

“You looking for something to put water in?” He asked. His soulmate looked up but didn’t answer. King held out the empty plastic cup and the guy took it. Smiling at the fact that it had been accepted, King crouched down next to him as he poured out some water.

“Are you feeding a cat?” There was no answer.

King tried again. “You a first year?” Still no reply.

“Why won’t you answer?” King’s tone was not annoyed. He understood that maybe it would take a while to get him to speak. Not everyone was as weird and talkative as King was. The silence reminded him of his plants.

“Can you speak Thai?”

“Hello? What’s your name? Where you from?”

“Bonjour?”

“Nihao?”

“Annyong?”

The guy raised his eyes and looked at King pointedly, obviously annoyed by the persistence. King beamed at him unashamedly. He would have said more but at that moment a dog came running over. Fear jolted his breath and King was leaping back onto the table behind them, trying to get himself away from the dog as quickly as he could.

The dog didn’t pay him any mind, which King was grateful for. It lolloped over and began munching at the food his soulmate had put down. The guy stroked its head fondly, completely at ease with the large animal.

“Eat slowly”. The words were quite but King already liked the sound of his voice.

“You can speak Thai!” He accused, only to yelp as the dog looked up.

The guy rolled his eyes and stood up, shouldering his bag.

“Where are you going?”King called as his soulmate began walking off. King looked at him pleadingly. “Hey! Take your dog!”

“Wait”. The guy didn’t turn around.

Maybe King needed to rethink this soulmate thing. If the guy was willing to leave him with a dog, then maybe he should just stay away. The dog sniffed at him and King tried not to scream. Yeah, maybe he should just go without a soulmate. That sounded like a good idea.

——

The second time King bumped into him, it was when Tee had tricked him into helping him with the volunteer project. King had meant to leave, regardless of the free drinks, but the younger students got there before he could. It surprised him though when his soulmate wandered through slightly late and sat down at the corner opposite. The guy seemed too shy for things like this but King liked having his mental picture of the guy changed. Obviously his soulmate was not as shy as he appeared.

So he found himself staying. Spending the meeting taking sips of his drink and listening to Tee talk, eyes trying not to dart towards Ram. He needed to stop being so creepy.

When the meeting had ended and all the juniors had gone, King turned to Tee. “Tee, the junior who was sitting there, is he from our university?”

“Hmm? Oh ram? Yeah. He’s on my roll”.

King nodded at the information. “What haven’t I seen him before?”

“Ram doesn’t usually do group activities. I don’t blame him. Visible soul-marks like that tend to get stared at”. Tee was right. It was not unusual to have a soul mark in a visible place but people tended to cover them up if they had not found their match. Ram’s was in a position where it was practically impossible to hide. It must gain him a bit of unwanted attention at times. King nodded again and took another sip of his drink.

“He only joined because I was begging him”, Tee continued. “He doesn’t talk much. It took me a few weeks to even find out that he was called Ram”.

“Ram”, King repeated, eyes looking up at the door Ram had left through. “What a weird name”.

“You always show interest in weird things”, Tee remarked. “He’s got a pretty soulmate mark though. Where’s yours again?”

“On my back. You’ve seen it before”.

Tee shrugged. “It was so long ago that I’ve forgotten. It was similar to that right?”

“Similar”, King agreed, glad that Tee had not recognised it on Ram. He wanted the time to get to know his soulmate at his own pace.

Ram. He pondered over the name as he finished his drink. His soulmate was weird and interesting. King liked weird and interesting things.

——

Later, when he had returned to his parents house for the weekend. He found himself searching up his soulmate’s name.

“Ram. Means glorious”, king read aloud to his plants. He chuckled. “It doesn’t suit him does it?” The plants did not respond but the sight of their lush green leaves made him pleased nether the less.

——

The third time King saw Ram, the guy was sitting at the bench King had used to hide from the dog. He watched as a Ram stood up to greet Duen. The two first years talked a bit as they passed over the donation box. As Duen left, King skipped up.

“So you can speak”, he greeted. Ram looked over, eyes suddenly closed. King tried not to let that weaken his resolve.

“You can even talk a lot”. Ram didn’t answer and moved to walk passed him. King held out a hand. “Wait, what if I want to donate?” Ram paused and stepped back. King tried not to grin.

“According to my analysis you only speak to people that you are close to right?” King broke off as he pushed some folded money through the slot of the cardboard box. “Wait, I’m not done donating. Since you only speak to people you are close to, then in order to get you to speak to me, we must become close right?” King pushed another note into the box.

Ram tried to push past again but King caught him. “But how to come close?” He continued. “With you being so cold to me. I should start by calling you cool boy and continue from there. That sounds closer right?” Ram just stared at him. King hesitated, another note in his hand. Seeing his hesitation, Ram took the note from his hand and pushed it Into the box before walking away.

King hurriedly turned around. “No answer means I can call you that!” He called at Ram’s retreating figure. “Cool boy!” He shouted, a tinge of frustration in his tone. Damn him and his stoic face.

——

The fourth time was when King was helping the volunteer group with their work. This time he knew that Ram would be there and had maybe come because of him, not because of Tee’s nagging. He was taking a break and scrolling through Facebook when he found a post that Ram was tagged in. He smiled as he sent a friend request and typed out a message.

,Look to your right.’

Across the courtyard, Ram leaned against a pillar as he took a drink. King watched as he took out his phone and looked up. King waved and Ram’s eyes settled on him. He gave him a smile before looking back at his phone and typing another message.

,If you don’t want to talk to me then you can text on here.’

King looked up hopefully only to frown in disappointment as Ram tucked his phone back into his pocket. King quickly typed.

,Are you ignoring me?’ Ram took a long drink and began crunching on some ice. The phone still in his pocket.

,I’ll make you talk to me eventually’. Ram tossed the empty cup in the bin. King tried to ignore his growing frustration. Ram was just trying to stir him up now.

,Remember Cool boy.’

King looked up again. Ram finally took out his phone only to hold it up to his ear. King bit his lip in annoyance. If that was how he wanted to play it, then fine! King would just continue calling him cool boy. Ram would open him up eventually.

——

The next time he saw him (king had stopped keeping count), Ram was sitting at a bench working. King walked over curiously, leaning over the other’s shoulder to see his worksheet. It was one he recognised. A class he had taken a few years back.

“There are many mistakes”. Ram jumped and turned to him, a accusing look in his eyes. King tried not to laugh. His previous frustrations melting at the sight of Ram’s stressed eyes and annoyed lips. “You can at least greet me cool boy”. Ram rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“What are you doing?” King asked. Ram didn’t reply but King was expecting it. He sat down on the bench next to him and peered over at the worksheet. “Of work from Mr Wachi? I know that. Let me teach you”.

King grabbed at the paper but Ram held on. Frustrated again, king tugged at it. “What? You don’t want me to teach you?” Ram stared at him. King tagged at the work again. “Okay, grab it, tear it off but then you’ll have nothing to submit”. Ram looked away and let go of the sheet.

King grinned triumphantly and pulled a pencil from his bag. He turned the paper around and began gesturing at the questions as he talked. Ram never spoke throughout the whole of King’s tutoring session but King did not mind. The occasional nod of his head and the clearness in his eyes showed that Ram was understanding King’s words.

When he was finished, Ram took back the paper and began packing his books and pencils back into his back pack. King sighed and turned to leave. “I’ll be going then”. A sudden hand on his wrist stopped him. The touch sent a spark rushing up his veins. It felt wondrous. And from the widening of Ram’s eyes, he felt it too.

King barely had time to absorb the open surprise on Ram’s face before the features closed off again and he was being pulled along.

“What’s going on?” Ram gave him a sharp gaze that made King feel breathless. He began walking, tugging king along behind him. “Hey where are we going? Cool boy!”

Ram continued leading him across campus. King followed along obediently, voicing the occasional question and not getting an answer. The touch of both their skin feeling warm and pleasant. He was obedient until they passed the dog from the other day. Immediately King was tugging against Ram’s grip and digging his heels into the grass.

“Cool boy! I don’t like dogs! No! Cool boy! Don’t!” He whined as Ram didn’t stop. He was obviously much stronger than King because Ram continued pulling King along behind him regardless to his struggles. “No! I’m afraid of dogs!”

Ram stopped and King halted. He managed to force his gaze from the large Labrador and on to Ram’s face. His dark gaze was calm and questioning, the hand on his wrist still comforting. King met his gaze and forced his breathing to soften. ‘Trust me’ Ram’s eyes seemed to be saying. King trusted him before he even asked. Behind Ram, the dog barked and King flinched. But he didn’t pull away. Ram turned and glared at the dog. It quietened and Ram continued walking. King running next to him in a desperate attempt to keep Ram between himself and the dog.

Ram took him to a restaurant just off of campus. His grip on King’s wrist only releasing once they had gotten to a table. King took his bag off and sat down, fear fading. “I was wondering where you were taking me”, he remarked as he looked around. “You want to thank me with a meal?”

Ram nodded once. King grinned, inwardly finding the cute gesture adorable. He turned and called for a waitress. She bustled over and gave both of them their menus. King spotted what he wanted and quickly wrote it down, passing the notepad to Ram who followed suit. Once the waitress was gone, King smiled.

“Thank you for helping me just now”. Ram nodded as if to say ‘no problem’.

King continued speaking. “When I was younger there was a vicious dog near my grandma’s house. One day it broke its leash and bit me. That’s why I’m traumatised”. Ram’s gaze turned sad. King wondered if he was sad over his fear, or sad over the dog being vicious. From what he gathered, Ram loved dogs. He felt a stab of shame of being afraid of them. Why did he have to be soulmates to a dog lover? Mentally, he made a resolution to try and get better around dogs.

Luckily, the food quickly arrived and King dug in. He was starving. “Hey, my friend didn’t order this”, he said, pointing at the third plate.

“It’s on me”, the waitress smiled flirtatiously at Ram. King frowned. Her soulmate mark was on display on her shoulder, a leaf. Nothing like Ram’s dream catcher. “Can I exchange it with your line Id?” She asked. Ram gave her a glance then turned back to his food.

King sighed. “I’ll eat this for you then”. He saw no point in wasted food. The waitress pouted and snatched the plate back, bustling off.

“Cool boy”, King whined. “Could you be more subtle when rejecting someone? I’m scared to order a drink now”. King liked the fact that Ram had rejected her but the way the waitress was now looking at them gave away her displeasure. Ram rolled his eyes and continued eating. King shrugged and followed suit.

King walked slowly with Ram down the street, the meal a happy weight in his stomach. “My car’s just over here. Thank you for sending me”, he smiled. Ram nodded as King’s phone rang. It was just his mother calling to check if he had eaten. When King ended the call and turned back around, it was to see a bottle of juice in front of his face. He jumped in surprise.

“Whoa. When did you get that?” Ram looked at him expectantly. “Is it for me? Thank you”. King took the juice and smiled. “If you have any more questions, feel free to text me. Thank you for the meal”. Ram nodded again and walked off, leaving King standing with a contented smile in the street.

He looked down at the juice in his hands. The cold liquid making him feel warm and fuzzy. Ram had taken his complaint seriously and actually brought him a drink. He was so sweet. A buzz came from his pocket and King rummaged for his phone.

,Thank you for teaching me senior.’

King couldn’t help the wide grin. Maybe he could do this soulmate stuff after all.

Hey. How about a soulmate AU where instead of eyes meeting for the first time, the world lights up with colour when you first see a genuine, joyful smile on your soulmates face.

Fake smiles would not work. Because when you are comfortable enough around another to show a genuine smile, it means that they have your trust.

Imagine couples knowing each other for years but never knowing they are soulmates because they have only given each other fake smiles.

Imagine someone meeting their soulmate and the world lighting up, only to not be able to return their smile.

Imagine someone peering through a train window to see a stranger smile. The world becomes colourful but the train keeps moving and they pass each other by.

Imagine bitter enemies caught in the middle of a fight and one makes a joke. The other can’t help laughing and the world lights up.

No!

Tang Yi and Shao Fei soulmate au

A short Drabble based of my other two part soulmate AU for Jack and ZhaoZi.

Tang Yi never gave much thought to his soulmate words. There was always something more pressing in his life, such as looking after Hong Ye, managing the business, of working on his cooking. After Mr Tang gave him a home he simply didn’t bother with the idea of a soulmate. He had all the happiness that he needed.

But then Mr Tang died and he found himself stuck in a hospital bed recovering from a nearly fatal bullet wound to the chest. At first he was so consumed with his grieving emotions and thoughts of revenge that he hadn’t really noticed the man come through the door. The doctor at his bedside had glanced up at the visitor before leaving the room, his departure making Tang Yi adress the man. He was young, probably around his age, with short cut black hair and a expressive face. His eyes were red rimmed and it was clear he had been crying. For a moment Tang Yi wondered why the man had been crying before he recalled the other body. The female officer had also been murdered with Mr Tang. She must have been close to this young officer.

“Do you know who shot you?”

The question caught Tang Yi by surprise and he felt the scribble on his forearm heat up. Refusing to think about the consequences of the reaction of his words, he schooled his face into a calm expression.

“No” he stated clearly. He watched as the officer’s eyes widened as his hand flew to the back of his neck. But before he could speak the hospital doors flew open and a small guy poked his head through.

“Shao Fei”, he called as the officer turned around. “The boss wants you to head back to the station. Says they need help going through Tang’s files”.

Shao Fei groaned and turned back to glare at Tang Yi. “I know that you know who shot you, no matter what you say”, he said stubbornly. Tang Yi was just noticing how big Shao Fei’ ears were. (He’s on a lot of medication. Sue him) “I promise you that I will figure out the truth and bring the people responsible to justice”, Shao Fei continued. Tang Yi tilted his head in challenge, meeting Shao Fei’s gaze. “Let’s hope you get there first then”, he muttered just loud enough for the other to hear. The pissed off expression Shao Fei gave him almost made him snort. The guy just looked too ridiculous with his monkey ears. As Shao Fei left the room, Tang Yi was left considering their encounter and hoping that he would not have to deal with such a loud impulsive officer again.

Unfortunately, Shao Fei didn’t get the same idea.

For four years the officer pursued him. The guy seemed to pop up everywhere and it was getting on Tang Yi’s nerve. He was too busy trying to turn the company legal to pay attention to the stubborn policeman. Every occurrence consisted of Shao Fei asking questions and Tang Yi responding with cool dismissals and negative answers. He half wondered, whenever he gave Shao Fei a thought, why the officer even bothered? He would even turn up when off work! He had to admire his persistence.

As time drew on, Tang Yi started finding benefits to Shao Fei’s chase. Leaving anonymous tips at the station about a secret meeting between him and various other gang leaders was a easy way to get his enemies arrested. Besides, Jack’s descriptions of Shao Fei’s face every time he realised that Tang Yi was not there were too good to be true.

The officer was the best to tease. His face was so expressive that Tang Yi just couldn’t help annoying him just for the reaction. Cuffing him to the elevator with his own handcuffs was by far the funniest. Shao Fei had looked so frustrated and angry that Tang Yi has to fight back a grin. But despite this teasing and the continued persistence Shao Fei, neither men discussed the subject of soulmates.

That is until they were kidnapped and hiding on some mountain side.

It was Shao Fei who broached it first. He was quietly watching the fire Tang Yi had made when he spoke. “Did your words ever react?” He asked. The question surprised Tang Ti who paused his action of poking the flames and turned to face the other. Shao Fei looked tired and his face had a slight vulnerability that Tang Yi had never seen before. He was not meeting his gaze, eyes fixed on the fire in front of him and Tang Yi could see the blood on his sleeve where his tie was wrapped around the wound.

“It’s just”, Shao Fei continued after a minute of Tang Yi not responding. “When mine heated up, it caught me by surprise. Its on the back of my neck so I never really paid attention to it. It was a complete refusal anyway”. Shao Fei shifted, voice becoming sad. His shirt collar moved and Tang Yi could just about see the neat word ‘No’ inscribed at the base of his neck. Tang Yi didn’t say anything. After a few minutes Shao Fei headed inside the shelter, leaving Tang Yi with his thoughts.

The first time Tang Yi felt the urge to kiss Shao Fei was when he was looking for his lighter. He was so afraid that he had lost it somewhere on that mountain that when Shao Fei turned up with the lighter in hand, Tang Yi was shocked by the sudden urge to kiss the other senseless arising in his chest. As he always did, he ignored the feeling and thanked the other.

However, the more his ignored his feelings, the more they seemed to rise. It was particularly bad when the puppy like officer invited himself to stay over under the excuse of ‘protecting’ Tang Yi. Especially since the self sacrificing idiot kept on getting himself injured for him. Although, his flustered expression when Tang Yi gave him a back massage was hilarious.

But then Shao Fei got shot protecting Hong Ye and Tang Yi was consumed by a sudden fear of losing the annoying policeman. He hadn’t even realised that he had began to care for him until the threat of losing him was too much. Every time he returned to the hospital, he was struck by feelings of care and admiration for the man in the bed. At first he ignored the feelings until Shao Fei would look up and greet him with a smile that Tang Yi couldn’t help but return.

So when Shao Fei asked him to walk with him up to the hospital roof, Tang Yi happily agreed. Watching Shao Fei overlook the city and drink in the fresh air left a warm smile on his face. When Shao Fei turned around and pulled him into a kiss, Tang Yi responded before he could even think things through, kissing back with so much hunger that it caught Shao Fei by surprise.

As they finally pulled away, Shao Fei rested his forehead against Tang Yi’s. “I have been pursuing you for four years Tang Yi”, he grinned. “Can I assume that this is an answer to my confession?” Tang Yi smiled at Shao Fei’s proud puppy like expression. “Yes”, he answered. “I accept your confession”. Shao Fei laughed triumphantly before pulling him in for another kiss.

Hands up! 2/2

Jack/ZhaoZi soulmate au

Everyone had soulmate words tattooed somewhere on their body. They were the first words that you would ever hear your soulmate say. Due to this, they were beheld with a certain degree of importance. Society loved the idea of soulmates, frowning on those who rejected or ignored their soulmate marks. Those who were born without marks were often outcasted, viewed as unloveable.

Zhao Zi always trusted his grandma. She had said that his soulmate would be someone who could care and provide for him. Because of this he paid no real attention to his words, preferring to judge his soulmate by their character than by their first words like the romantic he is. This was regarded as unusual. Words were so attached to emotion that Zhao Zi’s indifference often shocked people.

“Why should I pay so much attention to my words?” He had asked when one of his coworkers pointed to the neat letters across his collar bones. “I’m going to meet them wether I like it or not. It’s not like our first exchange is going to determine the whole relationship”. His wisdom made sense and after that people stopped asking.

It was perhaps lucky that he didn’t take his words seriously. Who would have the words “Can I have a bite?” tattooed on their person. Zhao Zi just assumed that his soulmate was a foodie like him. Besides, he could have gotten worse. His best friend, Shao Fei had the word “No” stamped on the back of his neck. It had been the warning of a bad relationship which had lasted for four years before Shaofei and Tangyi got their act together and confessed.

The whole thing had given Zhao Zi way too many heart attacks and emotions. And whilst their relationship was finally healthy with Tang Yi out of prison, they were so lovey dovey that even Zhao zi felt awkward. He genuinely considered himself a happy go lucky type of guy, trying not to let himself get down too often. When his parents left, he was okay because he had his wonderful grandmother. But when his grandmother died, it was Shao Fei who had kept him together. Although he was happy for his friend, he couldn’t help but feel an increasing sense of loneliness and disillusion with the world. His boss’s and AZi’s betrayal had been the icing on the cake.

More and more Zhao zi had found himself alone in his little house eating the type of unhealthy dinners that his grandmother would have hated. It seemed that with every passing day, his house only seemed to get bigger in its emptiness. Not that he let it show. At work he was as cheerful as ever, ignoring the new boss’s scoldings and the comments from the international division. No one noticed if he wasn’t eating as much as usual, or doing any more random acrobatics. He was fine.

So why was he stuck doing another weird undercover?

“Why do I have to be the stripper?” He complained, more like whined, to Shao Fei. They were back stage of the dingy strip club called the blue rose, the floor sticking to their shoes as they blinked in the terrible lighting. ZhaoZi was wearing knee length shorts with a see through white shirt and a stupid police hat. Shao Fei was dressed in a bright pink jacket on top of casual clothes. ZhaoZi had never wanted to swap clothes more.

“Because you’re the only one who can do anything acrobatic”, Shao Fei responded. “And the target likes boys like you anyway. We’ve been trying to get this guy for months Zhao Zi. Please? I’ll owe you”. Zhao zi sighed. He was too nice.

“You’re mean ah Fei”, he pouted, tugging the police cap lower over his hair. Shao Fei grinned, the cute act never worked on him anymore. “Yeah yeah”, he replied. “I’ll have Tang Yi make you some home cooked food. Now I’ve got to go, wait for your signal”. He patted Zhao Zi on the shoulder before disappearing out on to the club floor, leaving Zhao Zi alone backstage.

Trying to quell his nerves, Zhao Zi went over the case in his mind. They had several leads from a murder of a prostitute pointing towards the known gangster and sex trafficker John Smith. It was not his real name of course, but it was what he was known by. The guy had so far evaded them but a source had placed him in the club on routine occasions. Zhao zi just had to get him to lower his guard.

After a while, Shao Fei’s voice came across coms, alerting Zhao Zi of his cue. Gathering his courage, he ducked out on stage. He was glad of the lighting, obscuring most of the watchers from view. The target was visible in the corner, watching him. Zhao Zi shivered and bent forward into a front flip. Grasping the pole with his legs, he pulled himself upwards. Ignoring his surroundings, he concentrated on his dance, spinning around the pole with his body contorted in different ways.

When the que came for them to surround the target, Zhao Zi felt a flood of relief to be away from the blinding lights. He could feel his shirt sticking to him under the heat of the lamps and practically hopped off stage. Trying to keep up his cover, he strutted across the disgustingly stricken floor towards where the target was sat leering at him as the rest of his squad slowly surrounded him.

He didn’t notice the man on the table next to the target until he leant forwards and grabbed Zhao Zi’s wrist. Surprised, he turned to be greeted by dark red hair and a Cheshire Cat grin. The man’s eyes glittered at him as his lips stretched wider. “Can I have a bite?” He asked and instantly Zhao Zi could feel his words heat up across his collarbones. Deciding to deal with the target first, he shook off the hand and held out his badge. “Hands up! You’re under arrest!”

Luckily none of the men resisted and they had them out of the club and into the police van easily. Deciding to let Shao Fei and the others deal with the formalities, Zhao Zi hung back, now nicely wrapped up in his coat. Footsteps alerted him to an approach and he glanced up to face the red haired guy from the club. The lighting hadn’t done him justice. Now, in the light of a nearby street lamp, the guy was handsome and lean. Zhao zi couldn’t help Looking the guy over. Wow! His muscles!

The guy grinned and held out a gloved hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jack”. Zhao Zi returned his grin and shook his hand. “Oh you’re my soulmate. Hi! I’m Zhao Li An But everyone calls me ZhaoZi”. The guy’s hand was nice and warm through the glove.

Jack’s grin morphed into a smirk as he looked Zhao Zi slowly over, from his head to his toes then back up to his eyes. “So, can I have a bite?” ZhaoZi frowned in confusion. “Are you hungry? I wasn’t able to grab lunch and I’m starving but all the shops are shut now”, he saddened at the thought of his pitifully empty stomach.

“You got any food at your place? I can cook for you if you want”, Jack offered. ZhaoZi beamed, grabbing Jack’s hand excitedly. His grandma was right! He couldn’t be more in love. “Really? Then I want egg, and ham, and noodles with chicken broth and orange juice...” listing off all the food he had been craving, ZhaoZi couldn’t help but bounce a little on his feet. “Well I’ll cook for you. Come on”, Jack said as they began walking down the street. Calling a quick bye to Shao Fei, Zhao Zi turned his attention to his soulmate.

“Grandma said you would be a good cook”, he remarked as they turned a corner. “She said that my soulmate would be able to cook and provide for me”. He watched Jack grin. “That I can do”, he stated.

““My grandma also said that you will stay”. Zhao Zi looked up at Jack, face anxious but hopeful. He didn’t want to lose anyone else. “Will you stay?”

He watched as Jack’s face lost its grin, becoming honest. “If shorty asks then I will stay”, he promised as he wrapped around Zhao Zi shoulders. Relaxing into Jack’s warmth, Zhao Zi felt a bit of his loneliness disapate. It would take time, but jack would stay. Maybe he wouldn’t feel lonely anymore.

Hands up! 1/2

Jack/ZhaoZi soulmate au.

Everyone had soulmate words tattooed somewhere on their body. They were the first words that you would ever hear your soulmate say. Due to this, they were beheld with a certain degree of importance. Society loved the idea of soulmates, frowning on those who rejected or ignored their soulmate marks. Those who were born without marks were often outcasted, viewed as unloveable.

Jack knew for a fact that his boss, Tang Yi, had the words “Do you know who shot you?” Inscribed on his left forearm. His words had made sense. They had belonged to the police officer Shaofei who had been on the hunt for the murderer of his friend. They had danced awkwardly around the topic of them being soulmates for four years before developing a relationship as well as uncovering the killer of Mr Tang and Li Cheng. Now they were ridiculously in love. Especially since Tang Yi had been released from prison.

Jack was almost jealous of them and their love, if not for their disgusting PDA. He had often though of his soulmate. But in his line of work it was hard to have relationships. It had been years since he had been in a real relationship, even longer since he had seen his family. Besides, his words were a bit embarrassing, especially since he was a mercenary who made it his job not to get caught. But the words “Hands up! You’re under arrest!” Told him that one day he would be caught. It was all just a matter of time.

As he approached the polished oak door of his boss’s office, he absentmindedly traced the palm of his right hand where his words were inscribed in tiny neat black letters. Despite the fact that they were obscured by his gloves, he could picture each flick of handwriting. Insanely adorable handwriting that never failed to make him smile. With his signature smirk, he rapped a sharp knock against the wood.

“Everything alright boss?” Jack asked as he entered the pristine office. Tang Yi was sat at his desk frowning down at at a piece of paperwork laid out inform of him. He looked up as Jack entered the room, face as composed as ever. Jack fell into the chair in front of the desk, lounging reflexively back as his hand reached for his knife, flicking it backwards and forwards. It was a habit that worked well in intimidating people, not that Tang Yi ever fell for it. Jack was just doing it because he was bored.

“Shao Fei has an undercover operation with his squad in a strip club”, Tang Yi stated, voice cold. “They are planning to arrest a known sex trafficker who I’ve been meaning to hand over myself”. Ah, this was why the boss was so stressed. His soulmate was going on a dangerous mission in a unsavoury place where he would be dealing with a man who boss knows is dangerous. Jack almost felt excited. “He has forbidden me to go”, Tang Yi continued. “Insists that he will be okay since he’s a police officer”, he was practically grumbling now.

Jack grinned evilly. Sheathing his butterfly knife, he stuck it in his pocket and held out a hand. “Of course boss. None of your men would ever think of going to the strip club. Especially not to keep an eye on a certain police operation”. Jack wondered when his life had gotten boring enough for this to seem exciting. It most likely to the organisation going straight, which was great for him. No more hiding. Although if he had to hear more about Tang Yi’s and Shao relationship then he was probably going to have to quit his job.

“Of course the blue rose on fifth is completely off limits tonight”, Tang Yi spoke nonchalantly. “The barman, the drunk man in the corner, the bunny waiter and the man with the pink jacket, and the policeman stripper are totally off limits”. Jack nodded. “Of course boss”. Tang Yi returned his nod and returned to frowning at his paperwork as Jack left the room, closing the door with a snap behind him.

Once jack returned to his cold apartment, he opened his laptop to review the files that Tang Yi has definitely not so secretly, secretly sent about the case the police were working on. From the looks of it, the man they were hoping to arrest, a certain John Smith (what a ridiculous name) was a suspected serial rapist and had strong connections with the sex trafficking industry. Jack read further, finding the names of the officers involved. Shao Fei was registered, along with a Zhao Li An, who must be his partner.

Jack had heard of Zhao Li An before from both Tang Yi and Shao Fei. They had called him Zhao Zi. All jack knew of Shao Fei’s partner was that he seemed to be a complete weirdo. He was an alleged foodie with a almost supernatural talent of making people repent their sins and see the error of their ways. According to Shao Fei, Zhao Zi and once been allowed to interrogate a hit man which had ended with the hitman sobbing heatedly whilst promising to be a better son to his parents and confessing to all his sins. Since then, Shao Fei had explained that they only unleashed Zhao Zi on really despicable criminals such as murderers and rapists. Each and every time they had ended up confessing to all their crimes within an hour, sometimes even crying and apologising to any of their family members as well. Jack found the thought hilarious. There was no way this was true.

As the day dragged on, Jack continued with his tasks with his usual smirk. It was around eight in the evening, the streets already darkening, as he strolled into the Blue rose strip club dressed in his usual red shirt and leather jacket. It was a dingy place with bad lighting and suspiciously sticky floors. The room was not overly crowded which was lucky as Jack was able to score the table with the best vantage point of the room. A few Waitresses dressed in skimpy outfits tottered around the room on three inch heels, handing out drinks menus and cigarettes. On stage, a girl wearing barely nothing twirled seductively on a pole. Grabbing a passing waitress, he ordered a drink and sat back to let his eyes explore the room.

From his position Jack was able to spot all of the undercover policemen exactly as Tang Yi had described. The barman with the black shirt was paying far too much attention to the room than his task, almost dropping the glass he was cleaning. Whilst the waitress with the bunny ears was too nervous to be at ease with the place. The drunk man in the corner was obviously not actually drinking alcohol. And the man in the pink jacket in a booth near the stage, who Jack recognised as Shao Fei, was surveying the room with a clear disinterest in the girls. Jack would have laughed if it would have not drawn attention to himself.

A waitress came over and handed him a glass of gin, just as he had ordered. He took a sip, eyes scanning for the last policeman, Shao Fei’s partner. If he recalled correctly, this was the one undercover as a stripper. Maybe he would be preforming. Smirking to himself, Jack too another sip of his drink as he let his mind try and picture what the performance would be like. He bet it would end in catastrophe, or cause him to crack up. The thought of a policeman trying to be a stripper made him giggle.

He was on his second drink when the target walked in surrounded by goons. Jack fought the urge to laugh again, but it could have just been the slight alcohol. No wonder the guy preferred to rape his victims, he would have a hard time picking up girls with that face. To make it worse, he was so stereotypically a gangster that it was almost painful for a professional like Jack to watch. He cringed as the man arrogantly had one of his lackeys order him a drink, leering at the waitresses and bartenders disgustingly as they sat in booth right next to Jack’s. They were so close he could smell their disgustingly strong aftershave

Across the room, he could see Shao Fei watching them. He caught his eye and the policeman’s gaze widened for a moment as Jack smirked, undoubtedly recognising him even through the terrible lighting. With a slight frown, Shao Fei went back to ignoring him, making a slight signal. Jack watched as the bartender nodded and the girl on stage disappeared behind the curtain. The music changed to something more pop than the sultry tones that had been playing before. Eagerly, Jack leant forward slightly, anticipating the performance that the policeman would put on.

The lights dipped as a small figure walked onstage. Jack though that he looked far to cute to be sexy. The policeman costume he had on was more boyish than sexy with knee length shorts and a cute little cap with a white shirt where a badge was pinned. As the guy walked closer to the pole, he bent forwards on to his hands, flipping slowly over in the air so that he was upside down. Jack watched as the guys legs wrapped around the pole and he raised himself upwards so that he was hanging from his legs. Jack was pleasantly surprised and a little turned on. He hadn’t been expecting the guy to be cute as well as acrobatic. He took back his earlier thoughts. This was definitely sexy.

Biting his lip, Jack glanced at the group on the table next to him. The guy was loving it, eyes firmly stuck on the contorted body on stage. Jack sniggered to himself as he watched Shao Fei’s squad slowly move across the room, subtly surrounding the intended criminals who were too absorbed in the show to notice.

Turning his attention back to the stage, Jack whistled under his breath as the undercover policeman spun around the pole, legs pulled into a split. He spun a few more times, shirt now slightly see through in the stage lighting, making Jack’s eyes dart up and down his small figure. On his fourth spin he seemed to get a signal, stopping his action and jumping off stage on to the club floor. He began stalking his way across the room, closer and closer to Jack’s table. Now that he was nearer, Jack could see the sweat on his neck and the adorably furrowed eyebrows. He looked so damn cute. Curse him and his weakness to cute things.

As the guy passed Jack reached out and caught his wrist. He stopped, facing Jack with a confused, surprised expression. Jack grinned cheekily up at him. “Can I have a bite?” He asked jokingly. Jack saw the guy flinch slightly before tearing the badge off his shirt and stepping away from Jack’s hold. He pointed the badge at John Smith as his fellow officers held up their guns.

“Hands up! you’re under arrest!”

The skin on the back of his left hand burned slightly as Jack gaped. His words faded on his skin, letters indicating that they had been spoken. He watched as Shao Fei and his coworkers descended on the criminals, handcuffing them and pulling them out of the club before standing up to follow them outside. A police van was waiting and the criminals were being pushed inside it whilst Shao Fei read them their rights. His policeman, the guy was definitely his now, was standing to the side. He had been given a jacket and was pouting sullenly about something.

Approaching the small policeman, jack grinned and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jack”. The guy’s face brightened as he saw him and eagerly shook his hand. “Oh you’re my soulmate. Hi! I’m Zhao Li An But everyone calls me ZhaoZi”, Zhao Zi grinned at him. Jack felt himself fall, the guy was so cute.

“So”, he began, feeling his grin turn into a smirk. “Can I have a bite?” Zhao zi looked confused. “Are you hungry? I wasn’t able to grab lunch and I’m starving but all the shops are shut now”, he looked so adorably upset that Jack had to take pity on him. “You got any food at your place? I can cook for you if you want”. Zhao Zi beamed, grabbing Jack’s hand excitedly. “Really? Then I want egg, and ham, and noodles with chicken broth and orange juice...”. Jack felt his eyebrows rise with each listed food. The guy was a cute weird foodie. Jack couldn’t help but feel endeared.

“Well I’ll cook for you. Come on”, still holding Zhao Zi’s hand, Jack began walking with him down the street. Zhao zi called a goodbye to Shao Fei before happily skipping alongside him. “Grandma said you would be a good cook”, he remarked. “She said that my soulmate would be able to cook and provide for me”. Jack grinned wider. “That I can do”.

“My grandma also said that you will stay”. Zhao Zi looked up at Jack earnestly. “Will you stay?”

Jack smiled, wrapping a arm around his soulmates shoulders. “If shorty asks then I will stay”, he promised.

OK, so I read this dead poets society fic a while ago. I can't remember the name of it for the life of me, and it's a soulmate au where the longer you spend away from your soulmate once you find them the more irrational you feel (if u find it please leave a link for others to find, I don't remember how I found it the first time and I'd love to credit them.) In the fic Todd was getting extra anxious and Neil was getting angry?? Maybe frustrated something like that because Neil got himself locked up on the roof.

But can I possibly present it the other way round for you all...

Todd, who has finally found the first person to actually see him, to love him unconditionally, to actually want him for him and not some name he's supposed to live up to. So irrationally, he wants to desperately hold onto that love, letting himself be selfish for once in his life. He gets agitated beyond belief, wanting Neil back with him yesterday.

And Neil "I don't know how to process emotion, but at the same time, I feel everything way too deeply." Perry just shuts down, unsure of what to do with what he is currently feeling, so he shuts down and becomes dissociative and quiet. Neil is also used to not getting what he wants, with usually little protest from him, so he goes quiet.

The Spideypool Soul Mark AU that lives in my head lmao  

I love to just think about shit like this, but I don’t really have the motivation to write anything.  So here’s a picture instead and some of my soulmate AU head cannons! Wade’s Soul Mark:  

Wade doesn’t get his soul mark until Peter is born.  He is 7 at the time.  Prior to getting his soul mark, Wade is worried that since he hasn’t gotten one yet that he doesn’t have a soul mate and that no one will ever love him (as his father and classmates make him feel).   When he turns 7 he gets a very obvious soul mark.  It’s a serious of thin threads of spider silk covering his mouth and cupping the sides of his face and on the center of his tongue is a small black spider.  He gets made fun of as people tend to take it as even his soul mate can’t stand his talking and is metaphorically being told to stop talking.  Wade doesn’t see it like that.  He loves his soul mark, it feels like he is being claimed more than anything, the threads around his face feel like someone holding him.  He has no idea why the spider, but he can’t wait to meet his soul mate.   When he goes through Weapon X, the scarring and gore of his skin hide the thin threads of his soul mark that he loved.  Spiderman debuts in NY when Wade is 22.  He immediately falls and love and realizes exactly who his soul mate is supposed to be.  

Peter’s Soul Mark:

Peter is born with a scandalizing soul mark.  He doesn’t understand it as a child obviously and it’s not something that was discussed with him.  Eventually, when he is around 9 and sees a sleazy guy on the street slap a girl on the ass does it click what the large red and black hand print with the smiley face drawn in the middle (complete with artistic blush colored skin around it) that is on his left ass cheek is supposed to be....(in case it’s confusing, basically his soul mark is Wade’s hand print in black and red with a smiley face on it that is shaded to look like his ass is permanently slapped).

Needless to say, it is easy to understand that when Mary Jane Watson comes up to him some 9 years later and slaps him on his ass one day and starts up a flirtatious conversation with him he immediately assumes his soul mate is her.  The hand print is just as red as her hair too, come on, it’s gotta be her.   

And here’s what the soul mark looked like prior lol  I like him better in the first pic.  

Imagine an AU where everyone saw in black & white until they met their soulmate, then they saw colors for the first time.

Cue Dazai being kicked into a wall & upon opening his eyes the first colors he sees are within flaming red hair & piercing bright blue eyes. A green jacket hugging the kids figure as his foot remains planted on Dazai’s chest.

Chuuya sees stark white bandages across one eye and beneath an ill fitting white dress shirt. Dark chocolate colored locks. One honey brown iris with flecks of maroon shining in the sunlight. A black coat lying beneath him.

They both freeze for a moment, staring intently at each other, eyes blowing wide at colors they've never seen before.

Then they make eye contact, holding it for one beat, then two.

Then slowly it dawns on them what this means and, of course, their expressions move from awe to irritation. They bicker immediately, neither of them willing to give into fate.

Chuuya scoffs. "Oh fuck no, no way my *soulmate* is some shitty kid from the fucking mafia."

"How eloquent. As if such a tiny, brutish *slug* could ever be *my* soulmate." Dazai mocks in return.

Bonus points if the colors fade when they’re not together, until they accept they’re soulmates that is.

CASUAL CASUALTIES (10.6k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. what was meant to be an innocent trip down to the bridge becomes a national sensation when you get outed as #15 pro-hero dynamight's soulmate on live tv. inconvenient, yes, very much so—but it's not like you have to do something about it. but then the bakugou katsuki himself seeks you out, and you find yourself getting into a whole lot of trouble.

c.w. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up, post-timeskip/ch 431, soulmate!au, lots of cursing, reader is ill, depictions of mental illness (mentions of depressive themes and suicidality), mentions of death, nsfw/mature themes, minor manga spoilers

a/n. here it is, y'all! while i know the word count and tags are quite daunting, i really hope you give this fic a chance because i'm extremely proud of this one, which i haven't felt about my writing in a while. if you do end up reading it, thank you and i sincerely hope you enjoy it <3

to be fair, you were just…weighing your options.

taking a short trip down to shizuoka’s famous ayumi bridge wasn’t part of your itinerary for the day, not that you’ve been having exceptionally busy itineraries for who knows how long. it was a spur-of-the-moment decision that you periodically second-guessed on the way there, the vivid picture of your unmade but comfortable bed weighing heavily in your mind.

still, and despite yourself, you couldn’t deny the need for fresh air, nor the relief that filled your renewed albeit fatigued lungs as you finally arrived at your destination.

from where you are now standing with your arms folded on top of the relatively short railings, you look past the barricade and down onto the cloudy river below you.

it was an innocent gesture—one borne out of curiosity minus most of the morbidity—but it apparently wasn’t innocent enough, because one moment you were studying the ripples in the distant water, and the next, you’re violently yanked from behind.

you let out an unintentional ‘oof’ as you stumble backward, your body helplessly tugged alongside the blouse that you vaguely register as the thing that’s being pulled back. you probably stagger a few feet away from the edge of the bridge, before unceremoniously falling on your butt.

and as if out of nowhere, pro-hero dynamight emerges right in front of you.

“are you crazy?” he spits out, frenzied. “do you have a fucking death wish?”

you blink. “i—”

he throws his arms up in what you think is defeat, cutting you off, although he’s looking more pissed than resigned. “fucking menaces,” he mumbles loudly under his breath.

a surge of indignation instantly shoots through you, and you open your mouth to spit something back at him, but you don’t get the chance to, because he holds out his hand.

robbed of all words, and quite frankly, barely registering what’s happening, the best you can do is blink at him. again.

his eyebrows furrow, irritation surely bubbling in his veins. his hand stays put, though. “what are you waiting for? get up.”

you hesitate, eyes drifting from his face and down to his hand. unlike his gloved left, his right is bare, and riddled with a plethora of scars. you didn’t know about that, at least from his pictures on tv and social media, unlike the one on his face that is constantly broadcasted for everyone else to see.

you don’t dwell on it further, though, deciding then and there that you want to go home right the fuck now.

you quickly take his hand and help him by pulling yourself up. once you’re upright, you’re just as quick to let go, opting to brush off the dirt stuck to your clothes.

“thanks,” you start, forcing yourself to meet his piercing gaze that’s indubitably boring holes into your face. “…i guess.”

“you guess?” he spews, incredulous, before shaking his head. “never fucking mind.”

“dynamight!”

startled, you whip to look at the source of the voice, and your eyes comically widen when they land on a group of people who look suspiciously like the media. and right behind them are a few police cars dotted with several police officers.

you turn to face bakugou, about to clarify with him if he knows what they’re doing here, but he’s already staring at you, an inexplicable expression etched on his face.

“what?” you can’t help but ask.

he sighs, cocking his head toward the closely approaching herd. “get ready.”

“dynamight!” the woman decked out in a blazer and pencil skirt exclaims, completely oblivious to the concept of personal space as she thrusts her microphone into bakugou’s face. you feel yourself shrink from where you stand slightly to his right, unsure as to whether or not you’re being filmed right now.

you hope you aren’t.

“two negotiations in a row,” she breathes out, disbelieving. “how did you do it?”

negotiations?

“what kind of stupid question is that?” he barks out. “i simply was in the right place at the right time with the first one.”

“oh, you’re too humble!” she quips, signaling the cameraman to steady his shot of the pro-hero’s face. “we came as soon as we could when we heard about what was going down here.”

“yeah, and you could’ve caused the situation to escalate even further than it already did,” he retorts without missing a beat. the reporter’s face falls. bakugou takes that as a sign to go on.

“you’re lucky i arrived and intervened when i did. and how did none of you dipshits think to call the fucking police?”

“i—”

“you’re all too preoccupied with getting your next scoop that you lost your fucking grip on reality and failed to help,” the pro-hero chastises.

he pauses for a second, and you’re about to think he’s finally done with his spiel for the woman’s sake when he glances at you, looking like he’s got something more to say.

and as you find out in the next, excruciating seconds, he definitely has.

the man shoots his arm up, his thumb sticking out, pointing conveniently at you.

“case in point,” he states. “we could’ve had a casualty.”

you gawk at him.

a what?

“i’m sorry,” you start, turning to face the ash-blonde, acutely aware of the inquisitive eyes peering at you, “i think you’re misunderstanding. i wasn’t going to jum—”

“oh my god.”

miffed, you turn again to look at the woman, but now her countenance has gone all pale, looking like she just saw a poltergeist. seemingly speechless, she doesn’t try to get a word out, but what she does is point at bakugou’s wrist.

the man beside you shifts on his feet, uncomfortable. “the fuck are you—”

whatever bite the pro-hero was about to unleash on the reporter gets stuck in his throat when he flips his hand and freezes.

and when you see the familiar-looking timer written on his wrist that reads 00:02:57, you stiffen.

it can’t be.

still, you’ve got to make sure.

and so with bated breath, you slowly lift your right hand, turning it with the palm facing up.

and sure enough, your timer—the one that’s been at zero your entire life—reads just a few seconds after bakugou’s.

he thinks he’s fucking spiderman.

you mentally roll your eyes as you replay the clip of bakugou that went viral a few days ago.

you were able to put two and two together on the way home from the bridge, your conjecture proven correct when you got home and checked your social media accounts, which were crawling with articles and posts about the jumper who the #15th pro-hero dynamight was able to talk down.

he was a middle-aged man who apparently lost custody of his only son in light of his divorce, and couldn’t find a way out of the agony apart from death.

you couldn’t get a good view of his face, since the shots were all focused on bakugou taking his glove off to reach out to the guy, but you figure that’s a good thing. the man’s already fucking suicidal—the last thing he needs is for his privacy to be breached.

you can only laugh at the irony as you parse through your notifications, because lo and behold—they’ve already found you out.

because of course! what story sells better than a notorious hero’s successful negotiation with a jumper?

a notorious hero’s successful negotiation with a jumper who also happens to be his fucking soulmate.

nevermind the fact that you weren’t actually planning to jump that day.

“excuse me?”

you look up from your phone to find a teenage girl peering at you timidly from across the counter.

you tuck the device in your pocket and put on your most cordial smile. “hi! how can i help you?”

she puts what seems to be a fantasy duology on top of the surface between the two of you, before shooting you a shy smile back. “just these two, please.”

you peek at the titles and immediately light up. “great choice! my friend loves these.”

she lets out a delighted sound as you ring up her purchase, and you make small talk as you take her card and pack her books in a brown paper bag.

“have fun reading!” you say as she accepts the package from you, mouthing a quick thanks.

you watch the girl exit the bookstore with a grin you didn’t know you had on your face, which you only catch wind of when you shift your attention back to the next person in line.

because one sight of them has it wiped off your mouth in an instant.

even if they’re decked out in the most unhelpful disguise of a baseball cap, hoodie, and face mask.

still, two can play at this game. and quite frankly, you’re up for roleplaying rather than having a confrontation anyway, with this ridiculous get-up he has on.

and so with the most friendly tone you can muster, you ask: “how can i help you?”

even behind his whole guise, you can see the darkening of his gaze when you put forth the question. “are you serious?”

you tilt your head to the side in fake innocence. “what do you mean, sir? you’re at the counter at a bookstore…”

apparently, that’s enough to rile up the great explosion murder god dynamight, because he angrily tugs his mask down before bobbing his head as if saying ‘seriously’?

you pretend you’re just figuring it out, going the extra mile by letting your mouth form the shape of a small ‘o’, but you can tell he’s not buying it. he glares at you, and you’re smart enough to know it’s a warning, so you cut it out despite yourself.

“the question’s still the same, by the way,” you offer when he doesn’t say anything. “how can i help you?”

his eyebrows furrow. “are you always this fucking nonchalant?”

no, you answer in your head, but he doesn’t need to know that it’s less nonchalance and more apathy. you shrug, “it's either that or panic about the whole situation.”

this time, his eyebrows shoot up. “so you’re not frazzled? like, at all?”

you stop yourself from rolling your eyes just in time. “of course, i am. kind of—at least. the last thing i need is to be scrutinized by the public.”

“that one’s on you, showing up at the same bridge as that jumper.”

you bristle. “i told you, i wasn’t going to jump!”

only belatedly do you realize that you just said that last bit quite loudly, and you hurriedly scan the room to see a few curious faces have glanced your way. you bow slightly in apology, before turning back to regard the pro-hero.

he huffs. “let’s say you weren’t. it doesn’t matter, because we still made contact and now the news is out.”

“so? i don’t see how we have to do anything about it.”

“believe me, i agree.”

you laugh. “wow, who knew the dynamight doesn’t want a soulmate, let alone meet and be tethered to one?”

“laugh all you want, dumbass,” comes bakugou’s reply. “but what i’m about to say is not a laughing matter.”

“do pray tell.”

“fucking—” he starts, before taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. once he’s expelled that air, he fixes his gaze on you. you subconsciously straighten up.

“i need you to put up appearances with me.”

you squint at him. “huh?”

he presses his lips in a tight line. “i’m dropping in the rankings, and i’ll drop even further if i don’t—”

“i don’t see how any of this is my business.”

“—if i don’t do anything palatable about the situation,” he presses on. “it’s costing me and my agency, as much as i fucking hate to admit it.”

you only stare at him, letting the gears in your head turn in light of the newfound information. and when you don’t say anything, bakugou finishes.

“it’ll only be for a while.”

pft.

a while?

you hesitate. of course, you would. there’s absolutely no reason for you to get involved with the pro-hero, especially not now nor in the near, foreseeable future. in fact, you don’t even want to think about how he found out this is where you worked part-time. and you know there’s more where that came from.

you shake your head, “i’m sorry, but there’s no way i can—”

“i’ll pay you.”

you whip to look at him, shocked. “what?”

“you need the money, right?” he asks, and you hate how he’s right. “pr is offering an amount.”

you gulp, hating even more how you’re actually considering this. “how much are we talking about?”

he tells you. you barely catch your jaw from dropping to the floor.

with that amount, you’ll have the luxury of quitting this minimum wage job that you’ve barely been able to keep doing and then some. you’ll be set on your monthly expenses for a couple of months, and maybe even have enough to splurge on the few things that you’ve been wanting to get for yourself but haven’t had the means to.

and all that just by pretending for one to two months, tops?

your name and face are already common knowledge, anyway. there shouldn’t even be a debate.

you stick your right hand out, the one with the ticking timer on your wrist, for him to shake. he extends his, and the sight of the matching numbers sends an unidentifiable sensation down your spine. you try to ignore it.

and just like that, you shake on it, and the deal is on.

besides, you’ve got nothing to lose, anyway.

you push the glass door open, mindful of not adding any more handprints on the already marked surface. the wind chimes you didn’t know were hanging above it from the inside resonate as you enter, and you find yourself suddenly grateful that you at least managed to put on a bit of makeup for today. a few people seated near the entrance glance to look at you, which is probably a good thing for once.

right before bakugou left the bookstore a few days ago, he suggested you exchange numbers, which you agreed to gingerly. you expected radio silence for at least a week and hoped for forever, but a text eventually came later that night, asking for your availability so he could schedule a meet-up in public.

you told him you couldn’t meet until today, probably giving off the impression that you were busy with something, when in reality you were just tired and needed the time to process what was about to happen.

which brings you to now, standing at the doorway of a hip café in the heart of musutafu, scanning the faces for vermillion daggers he has for eyes.

it takes you a second, what with the afternoon crowd slowly encroaching on the establishment and filling up the tables, but you eventually locate him, with the help of the scarred hand he raises to get your attention.

“hey,” you greet when you reach his spot near the back, and he nods at you in acknowledgment. taking a seat across from him, you make it a point to study your position. “are you sure you want to sit here?”

he raises an eyebrow, which you can now see clearly without the shadow of the cap from before. “what, this table not up to your standard?”

exasperation shoots through you, as it always does, but you shake it off. instead, you toss him a tight-lipped smile. “no, it’s just that people might not see us back here. which, you know, kind of defeats the purpose?”

he doesn’t say anything for a beat, gaze fixated on you, before he breaks eye contact and shakes his head. “don’t worry,” he offers. “calculated move. we’re still gonna be spotted, trust me.”

you nod…slowly. you guess that makes sense. if you seat yourselves smack dab at the center, it may come off as the both of you seeking attention, consequently undermining the authenticity of your whole charade. a real high-profile couple would want to keep it low-key.

you snort at what you just called the two of you.

“what?” bakugou asks, defensiveness bleeding into his tone. you look up at him, and you take a second to study his appearance. he ditched the cap and hoodie, only sporting a black shirt and what you think are loose joggers and sneakers.

and with his infamously unruly hair trimmed?

well. you hate to admit it, but he actually looks…nice.

you smile at him, genuinely this time. “nothing.”

he narrows his eyes at you, like he thinks you’re lying out of your ass, but he lets it go. luckily enough, and as if on cue, the waiter arrives to give you the menu and complementary water, and bakugou orders iced tea while you request your go-to drink. you thank the guy before he dashes off to tend to other customers.

“so,” you start when silence falls upon the two of you. “how exactly are we going to do this?”

he picks up his glass. “do what?”

“you know, pretend?” you gesture vaguely with your hands. “do we have to do pda or something?”

you didn’t plan to cause it, but regardless, bakugou chokes on the ice-cold water he was just in the middle of drinking. you reach out to—what, rub his back?—but he holds his hand up to stop you as he coughs his lungs out. you sit back down, and you watch him as he gathers his bearings, wiping the tears that pooled at the corners of his eyes.

“sorry,” you supply, “great job, though. you just announced our presence to everybody.”

at that, bakugou snorts, and you can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of you. he shakes his head, “dumbass.”

“but no,” he continues, back to being serious, “well, at least for now. as far as pr is concerned, we just have to be seen together until the whole thing dies out and the volatility of my ranking dissipates.”

“okay. that clicks, i guess.”

“you’re still up for it, then?”

now it’s your turn to narrow your eyes at him. “we shook on it, didn’t we? i’m a woman of my word, bakugou.”

“well—”

“and for the last time, i wasn’t going to jump.”

that makes him bark out a laugh so loud that it startles you. grinning, he waves you off. “yeah, yeah. don’t need to get all worked up, princess.”

blazing right past that cursed nickname—you’d first go through hell and high water before you let yourself be flustered in front of this man—you shoot him an expectant look. “well?”

“well, what?”

“are we just gonna sit here and stare at each other for two, three hours? we’ll have to do something, smartass.”

if bakugou is anywhere near bothered by your nickname for him, he doesn’t let it show. instead, he takes the bait. “whaddya have in mind?”

“we can play a conversation game. the one that has prompts?” you fish out your phone from your bag, and you quickly thumb through your apps until you find the one. you click on the button that says ‘play’ and place the gadget at the center of the table.

“there,” you point. “i ask a question and you answer. then we switch and so on and so forth.”

he examines the screen. “sounds lame.”

you scoff. “lamer than sitting and waiting?”

he doesn’t answer for a few seconds, until he finally sighs and nods at you, shifting in his seat as if bracing himself for what’s to come.

“i can go first,” you volunteer, straining to look at the words on display. you cringe when you read them. “do you think i was popular in high school?”

“seriously?” he snickers, and you shrug.

he doesn’t even take a moment to think about it. “well, you work in a bookstore, so no.”

“fair enough. your turn,” you swipe on the screen and turn it 180 degrees so he can see it.

you laugh when his face contorts as he finishes scanning the question. his eyes dart up to glare at you. “who came up with this stupid ass game?”

“just read the question, bakugou.”

he splutters for a beat, ultimately relenting, seething the words through his teeth. “when it comes to relationships, do you think i’m looking for something casual?”

you’re pretty sure you know what the answer is, but you still squint at the man to mess with him.

“are you fucking with me?” he grits out, bug-eyed. “does it fucking look like i’m capable of being casual about anything at all?”

you can’t help it—you throw your head back and laugh.

“stop laughing at me, dumbass.”

you press your lips together in an attempt to quell your mirth, but you burst out laughing again when you catch a glimpse of his reddening face.

“hey—”

“sorry, sorry—it was just—your face—”

“i get it, now quit it.”

eventually, but not immediately, you do. to your relief, bakugou doesn’t forfeit like a sore loser after that round, instead choosing to press on and find an equally incriminating question for you. you bounce off of each other, mainly talking about your respective pasts, like your education, families, and upbringing, although staying considerate enough not to overstep and pry on confidential information.

there were quite a few questions directed towards the present—what you’re currently doing, any nearing plans, current events—and you were okay enough to answer them with minimal detail. the future-oriented ones, though, you barely manage to skirt around and not respond to. you noticed bakugou looking at you a little too closely during those instances, but you feigned indifference.

that’s all you could do, really.

even then, and without you noticing, the hours pass by, and by the time you actually look past the prompts and up to your phone’s clock, it’s already 5:05 pm, a good four hours past your agreed-upon meeting time.

when you glance back up at bakugou, his face reads the same—mild shock at the fact that you were too engrossed in your conversation to notice the sky getting dark and the streetlights illuminating the walkways beyond the coffee shop’s glass walls turning on one by one.

“sorry,” you say as you swiftly take your phone and lock the screen. “i didn’t mean to keep you.”

“no,” he counters, pocketing his own. “i didn’t notice, either.”

you smile at him as you put on your bag. “still think it’s lame?”

“yes,” he promptly replies, a smirk now decorating his sharp features. “but i had fun, or whatever the fuck.”

and for the nth time that afternoon, you laugh.

he texts you first that night, to your surprise.

(8:38 pm) bakugou katsuki: thanks. for coming out today.

from where you were sprawled lazily on your mattress, hair still wet from that shower you almost didn’t take, you thumb out a response.

(8:39 pm) you: no problem, boss 🫡

you press send before you can overthink things. instead, you let the warm feeling of someone else’s gratitude bloom in your chest and bask in it. that doesn’t get to happen for too long, though, because another message arrives.

(8:40 pm) bakugou katsuki: don’t call me that. by the way, did you see the news?

you feel your brows crease.

(8:40 pm) you: what news?

ping.

(8:40 pm) bakugou katsuki: bakugou katsuki sent you a link

you immediately click on the string of words, and you’re redirected to an article. it takes a while to load—the internet is sometimes spotty at your modest condominium unit—but when it does, your jaw drops.

because right at the center of which is an image of you and bakugou at the café.

“holy shit.”

before anything else, you zoom in on your face, because priorities, right? you stare at the bunch of pixels for a good few minutes, before ultimately deciding there’s nothing you can do about it anyway. besides, it’s not like this was the first glimpse the public has had of your appearance. despite yourself, you check bakugou’s, and of course, the man looks like he just came straight out of a magazine shoot.

you then read the title, which must’ve been written in haste in an attempt to get ahead of a random netizen going viral. soulmates spotted: pro-hero dynamight seen with the girl from the bridge.

well.

at least they’re not calling you a jumper.

still.

(8:44 pm) you: seriously? girl from the bridge?

another ping.

(8:44 pm) bakugou katsuki: still at the fucking headline? hurry to the end, dumbass.

you roll your eyes, mainly because you can—perks of living alone and all. skimming through the sentences, you mouth the words to yourself—a rehash about who you are, the contact from a few days ago, eyewitnesses and accounts from today—until you land on the thing you think bakugou’s been trying to highlight.

in light of recent events, bakugou katsuki, who recently dropped several spots due to unfavorable encounters with citizens, has risen in the charts to #13.

you beam.

you and bakugou hang out a couple more times over the course of the next few weeks.

your get-togethers mainly depend on his schedule—which you gawked at how hectic it was when he first described it to you—even more now that you’re officially unemployed. your contractual obligation at the bookstore ended just in time as your first paycheck from the dynamight agency arrived, and you took the impeccable timing as the universe’s way of telling you to quit so you could instead spend your time freely on hobbies that you haven’t had the energy for.

on the days that you do meet, though, you end up dedicating a huge chunk of your waking hours to the endeavor. it’s like that meme of a google calendar, with the get ready for meeting, meeting, and recover from meeting blocks taking up the entire 9 to 5.

this was definitely the case for your fourth rendezvous, which you spent at a park near the bridge where you first met. he didn’t give you any details, so you walked into it blindly with a full face of makeup, hair done, and a tote bag full of finger food and some beverages in tow. needless to say, you were surprised when you arrived to the bakugou katsuki on a plaid orange picnic blanket, with what looked like handmade sandwiches displayed for hungry onlookers to see.

“don’t start,” he preempts when he sees you eyeing the snacks as you sit down.

you blink at him innocently, a smile tugging at your lips. “i wasn’t going to.”

he frowns. “quit grinning, would you? i just thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air.”

nodding solemnly, you bring out your share of rations. “sure.”

you brace yourself for any snide remark about your pitiful food—at least, as compared to his handcrafted ones—but they don’t come. instead, what you get is a side eye, before: “why’d you look like you’re going to an event, or some shit?”

you whip to face him. “huh?”

he gestures to your face.

“oh, this? i just don’t want to look ugly in the photos, is all.”

“ugly?” he spews, as if the word in itself was as hideous as it meant.

“yeah,” you retort defensively, placing the cans of juice on the ground before shifting to look at him. “not that you have to worry about that.”

a pause.

“what’s that supposed to mea—”

“do you have anything you want to do?” you cut him off, changing the topic.

“i—uh—” bakugou stammers, caught off guard. “we can just talk, or something.”

you light up at that, and he scoffs when he sees. “same game?”

“why the hell not.”

he texts you again after the picnic, right as you step out of the train and onto the platform of your stop. you smile when you catch a glimpse of it.

(6:05 pm) bakugou katsuki: at #9 now. thanks.

as you walk up the stairs and onto the streets, you find yourself wondering why this whole ruse has been working like a charm, and the answer is quick to arrive.

humans love narratives, after all.

and what better way to forward the age-old, comforting, and redeeming tale of soulmates than through the prickly, explosive pro-hero they know so well?

you don’t hear from each other after that. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you nervous just the tiniest bit—he was right, after all. you needed the money, especially after having quit your job. but you tell yourself it’s only been a couple of days, to trust that he’ll text when it’s time to make another public appearance, and that he’s way above ghosting you like you’re easily dispensible, regardless of whether or not you do feel that you are.

so, in an attempt to stop obsessing over this thing you’ve got going on with bakugou, you drag your ass out of bed and head to the nearest mall to run a few errands. you realize when you get to the supermarket that you forgot to catalog the things you actually needed to buy, cursing yourself when you do. still, you try your best to get on with it, relying instead on your hazy memory of what needs replenishing.

a good thirty minutes later, and with your grocery–filled tote bags hanging from your shoulders, you trek towards the pharmacy and fall in line. as always, there’s a long queue, but you eventually reach your turn, promptly buying your necessary meds and hightailing it out of there.

you consider booking a taxi instead of commuting home when you eventually feel the strain of the weight on your shoulders, but decide against it. the temperature is pretty decent anyway, you think to yourself as you walk and relish in the cloudy yet slightly windy weather. you study the buildings that you pass by, partly to distract yourself from how your bags are getting heavier and heavier by the minute, when your eyes land on a particular complex and you stop.

it’s either you’re going crazy, or you’ve been passing by the dynamight agency a million times and you never noticed.

you stand there for what feels like an eternity, peering at the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and letting the internal tug-of-war play out inside your head, until you ultimately let the curiosity win. slowly and with caution, you take a few steps towards the entrance. you honest-to-god weren’t planning on stepping foot inside the establishment, but apparently, the equally glass doors are automatic.

you falter for a moment, eyes wide as saucers like a deer caught in the headlights as the “gates” slide open for you, before making the split-second decision to enter. it was either that or look stupid in front of everyone in the lobby who’s now staring at you, anyway.

luckily, you don’t get to stand there—awkward as shit—for a second longer because one of the receptionists hurries over to where you’re positioned.

the lady beams at you. “good afternoon—”

“hi,” you supply, “i was just—”

“y/n, right?”

crap. “uh, yes.”

her grin widens. “you’re just in time! bakugou-san just clocked out.”

“oh, i wasn’t—”

“y/n?”

the two of you whip to look at the back of the large room, and sure enough, the owner of the increasingly familiar gruff voice is looking right at you, just as shocked at you being here as you are.

you can only watch him—in all his regularly clothed, duffel bag-carrying glory—as he briskly walks towards where you are.

a waft of his heady perfume hits you just as he arrives at your side. “what are you doing here?”

what the fuck are you supposed to say? “i, uh—”

“she must’ve come to visit you, sir,” the receptionist pipes up chirpily.

at that, bakugou regards her with a look—one that says, do you mind? and you guess he must use that a lot around here, because she snaps her mouth closed in an instant, and bows before retreating to her spot behind the counter.

you keep your eyes trained on the woman as she scurries, wishing the ground would swallow you up before you’re forced to look at the pro-hero. but then he says your name again, and your head creaks to face him as if it’s got a mind of its own, its automaticity akin to that of vines winding to get the smallest peek at the sun.

“well?” he demands, brow raised in waiting.

“i was just going home and noticed your building was on the way,” you answer truthfully, a tad bit embarrassed. you shouldn’t have stopped and let your curiosity get the better of you.

he studies you for a second longer before his gaze drops to the things you’re carrying. “you were walking home? with those?”

“yeah…” you respond, voice small. “don’t worry, they’re not that heavy,” you lie.

and before he can call you out on your deceit, you throw the question back at him. “how ‘bout you?”

the second it tumbles off your lips, you knew it was fucking stupid.

“…i work here?”

there it is. in a last-ditch effort to save face, you let out a laugh, although it comes out a bit stilted. he narrows his eyes at you, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man was amused.

“let me drive you home,” he offers out of the blue, you almost choke.

“what? no, i’m okay.”

“your shoulders are about to give out,” he says pointedly. “don’t be fucking stubborn.”

“seriously, i’m alright,” you insist, and he sighs. you turn it right back at him, “don’t you have somewhere to be? you’re actually leaving early for once.”

and strangely enough, he is. from the few weeks of knowing knowing him, you’ve learned that the man puts in overtime almost every single day, which has been one of the reasons why your hangouts were always scheduled on the weekends.

“‘m visiting my parents,” comes his curt reply.

you beam at him. it’s funny how picturing this hulking brute of a man as his parents’ son makes you feel warm. “that’s so nice of you.”

“‘s nothing,” he dismisses, before: “they’ve been asking about you, you know.”

“me?” you repeat lamely. “what about me?”

he shrugs. “just basic information about you, how we’re doing, and all that crap…”

and when you don’t say anything, he just goes straight for it. “they want you to visit.”

you gape at him.

“but don’t be pressured, and shit,” he backtracks. “i know that’s a tall order.”

huh.

“…i’ll think about it,” you eventually offer with a nod. and you will—later. when you’ve got your wits about you. but for now, you hastily go through your bags and pick out the thing.

“here,” you say, just as you thrust the small bouquet of orange tulips toward him. “give these to your mom. or dad. or both, really.”

his eyes dart between you and the flowers and then back at you again. great, you think to yourself. you’ve successfully rendered the man speechless.

“take it,” you assert after a moment. “they’re better off in you guys’ hands, anyway.”

he examines them for another while, before he finally takes them off your hands.

“thanks.”

you only smile at him. to your pleasant surprise, he flashes a small one back.

(9:06 pm) bakugou katsuki: i’d tell you to check the news but i know it’ll take you a century. i’m at 6th now.

the drowsiness that was just clouding your brain wards off like smoke that’s being fanned away. you sit up on your couch, rubbing your eyes with one hand while you type out a response with the other.

(9:07 pm) you: ha. and congrats!!! that’s great to hear 🥳

you barely get to adjust your butt’s position when a notification pops in.

(9:07 pm) bakugou katsuki: thanks. and my parents loved it, just so you know. the old hag especially.

you smile. another message.

(9:08 pm) bakugou katsuki: she wants you to come over for dinner this weekend.

your face falls. shit. you didn’t see this coming.

(9:09 pm) you: so soon?

your default ringtone resounds across your one-bedroom unit.

(9:09 pm) bakugou katsuki: she’s in a rush. say no if you don’t want to.

you pause, suddenly acutely aware of the guilt that’s stewing in the pit of your stomach. is deceiving his parents necessary, when all you need is to put on an act for the general public? still, bakugou did say his mother was in a rush. maybe he just got sick of her insistent nagging.

you take a sharp inhale.

(9:12 pm) you: i’m down 🫡

and just because there’s nothing more fun than pulling at his leg:

(9:12 pm) you: …granted i’ll get paid for it 😊

ping.

(9:13 pm) bakugou katsuki: you and your greedy ass. fine.

“and so that’s how i got masaru here to say yes to a date!”

you laugh as mitsuki loops an arm around the shoulder of the brunette sitting beside her, who only chuckles to himself, a faint pink sitting high on his cheeks. you chance a glance at bakugou, and sure enough, he’s rolling his eyes at his mother’s finishing line.

“what?” he quips defensively when you toss him a pointed look. “i’ve heard this story a million times.”

“and you’re gonna hear it again, tsuki,” mitsuki replies unapologetically.

bakugou only groans as you smile at the couple from across the table. “i think that was an excellent story, mitsuki-san.”

“thank you, y/n. but enough about us!” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and you feel your stomach drop. “how ‘bout you two, huh? what’s the deal?”

“the deal is you’re being nosy as fuck,” comes bakugou’s snappy retort.

“come on, katsuki,” masaru implores, a playful lilt in his tone. “we’d love to hear about how things are going between the two of you.”

“is the press being all up in your ass?” mitsuki demands, “because i can tell them to fuck off if you need me to.”

“sure, if you want to fucking embarrass me.”

“you know what, i’d actually love to do that.”

“fucking hag—”

you worriedly watch the two ash blondes as they go at each other’s throats, before you look at masaru for help. he only shoots you a meek albeit unalarmed expression, which is enough to tell you this isn’t an uncommon occurrence in the bakugou household. thankfully, though, they calm down after a beat, opting to glare daggers at each other instead.

“to answer your question, mitsuki-san,” you take the gamble and interject, and everybody whips to look at you, “they’re being quite harmless. you know, minus all the circulating information about my life.”

at that, mitsuki’s joyful countenance morphs into one of sorriness. “i’m afraid that’s part of having a soulmate with a high profile, dear. it doesn’t help that you were being filmed when you both found out.”

“yeah, well, there’s not much we can do about it,” you offer with a genuine smile.

“is that why you’re just leaning into it?” asks masaru. “hanging out in public and all?”

“uh—”

“obviously,” bakugou cuts you off. you turn to look at him, stunned, before shifting back to face the couple.

“uh, yes,” you continue, “we figured there wasn’t any point in hiding anymore.”

that seems to perk mitsuki up. “hide what, tsuki?”

and when neither of you says anything: “are you trying to tell us something?”

you sneak a glance at bakugou, only to find him already looking at you. you stare at each other for what feels like a minute short of forever, before he breaks eye contact and cooly says the next thing.

says the next thing while simultaneously pulling the rug from under your feet.

“we’re dating,” he declares, and you sit there, witnessing his parents’ eyes bug out in surprise, hoping yours aren’t betraying the very same emotion you’re feeling right now.

“really?”

“oh my god! since when?”

bakugou huffs, practically exuding annoyance. “yes, and just recently. end of discussion.”

masaru laughs in delight while mitsuki pouts, although you can tell she’s fighting off a grin.

“and here we thought you were gonna die alone, tsuki,” masaru jokes.

“shitty fucking—”

“no, but seriously,” interrupts mitsuki, “i was getting nervous, katsuki. what with my diagnosis, i thought i’d never get to see you be happy with someone.”

you pause, looking at the man beside you. “diagnosis?”

“oh! he didn’t tell you?” mitsuki queries, tone laced with worry. “i don’t mean to be a party pooper, but i just got diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer a few months ago.”

shit. “i’m so sorry, mitsuki-san—”

the woman waves you off, a beautiful smile adorning her familiar features. “don’t be, dear. the doctor says the outlook is good as long as i strictly adhere to treatment.”

despite that, you can’t help but frown. “how are you feeling these days?”

“i’m good!” she supplies cheerfully. “masaru and i have been spending more quality time together, and katsuki’s been visiting more often. and of course, you being here is an added bonus.”

you toss the woman a grateful look, which she returns generously. mitsuki talks some more about it before shifting the conversation back to less depressing territories, like what bakugou was like growing up and her and masaru’s plans for retirement. eventually, minutes turned into a few hours, and came the time to go home. you profusely thank the couple as you begin to head outside, while bakugou steps out to his porsche to get the engine started.

“i’ll be hoping for your speedy recovery, mitsuki-san,” you say as you step out onto their front porch.

“thanks, dear. and i’ll be hoping that things go well between you and katsuki, okay?”

you force a smile on your face and the words out of your mouth. “i hope so, too.”

the air is tense between you and bakugou as you step out of his car at your complex’s parking lot, then through the doors at the guarded entrance, and even during the elevator ride up to your floor.

neither of you says a word the entire time, sharing only a few nods and glances with you leading the way. you were fully expecting him to just drive off the second you got out of his pristine vehicle, but he ended up exiting with you and following your trail like a shadow.

thankfully, not many people are still around to see you in the lobby or on your floor, even if it’s still 9-ish on a saturday. you both were all for being spotted together, but maybe being seen at either of your residences will cause more trouble than help. you are about to say this to break the ice when you arrive at the end of the hallway and in front of your unit, but bakugou beats you to it.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.”

you freeze, blinking at him. “didn’t tell me what?”

he sighs, and suddenly the lines that you were convinced weren’t on his face a second ago are now evident—along with the exhaustion that’s carved right into it. “that my mom has cancer.”

you frown. “there’s nothing to apologize for, bakugou. you’re not obligated to tell me.”

“still,” he insists, seemingly growing more tired by the moment. “it blindsided you, hearing it from her. i should’ve just told you earlier.”

“maybe,” you admit, “but i understand your apprehension.”

he grumbles, but doesn’t reply. you decide to just go for it.

“can i ask you something?”

he looks up from where he was staring at the off-white tiled floor, expectant. “what?”

“is she part of the reason?” you begin, treading carefully. “why you wanted to put up appearances?”

he stares at you for a beat, perhaps a beat too long because you find yourself slowly regretting bringing up the query in the first place. you are about to backtrack and apologize for asking when, to your surprise, he nods.

ever so slightly that it’s almost imperceptible, but enough of a motion for you to see it.

“i just wanted to seem like i’m putting myself out there,” he mutters, “just in case something happens.”

you nod, ignoring the way your heart is stinging at his sincerity just now.

“she’s always been on my ass about finding someone, but then things happened and you showed up, and i figured why not just hit two birds with one stone, or some shit.”

a pause.

“personally i wouldn’t want to be the stone hitting not just one but two poor birds, but i get it.”

that must’ve caught him off guard, because bakugou snorts. you grin at him when he snickers and calls you stupid under his breath, the atmosphere taking a vastly lighter turn.

now, you didn’t notice it before—much like how you didn’t notice his agency’s building being part of your regular route to the mall—but bakugou has a dimple. a tiny one. and similar to his nod from a short while ago, it’s a subtle little thing, but it’s there—especially now that he’s smiling.

and right next to his dimple are his lips.

which are looking ungodly moisturized compared to your undoubtedly chapped ones.

wait.

your eyes shoot up from his lips to his eyes, a tidal wave of equal parts shame and humiliation ready to crash over your entire, pathetic body. but just as it is about to metaphorically collide with your frame, it freezes—just as you do.

because you catch him—and no matter how much he might try to deny it, you saw it with your own two eyes.

he was staring at your lips.

but apparently denying it isn’t part of his agenda for the night, because he does the exact fucking opposite.

he dives in and presses his lips onto yours.

and you were right—they are sinfully soft, even if you haven’t seen him apply lip balm in the handful of instances you hung out.

and as far as you can remember, this is the last coherent thought that crosses your mind, because the next few minutes go by like a blur. you vaguely recall him pulling away and looking straight at you, as if waiting for a reaction, before leaning right back in when you pull him closer by his shirt. what you don’t remember is who opens the door or how you manage to use your keys without breaking the momentum, but you magically do, just as magically as how fast clothes are shed on the way to your bed.

you recall him eagerly towering over you as your back hit the soft sheets of your mattress, as well as the honest admission of his inexperience yet willingness to learn against your neck. you remember guiding him, telling him how to touch you and the right places to do so—where to rub and lick and thrust not just his fingers to drive you over the edge.

and he does—drive you over the edge. over and over and over that you lost count. and you equally returned the favor, shocked at your own desperation and unusual determination to make him feel good. you recall his being vocal—which you loved, if the incessant wetness between your thighs that lasted the entire night was any indication. you don’t remember when you finished for the last time—when you both crashed out from sheer exhaustion.

but it eventually happened—otherwise, you wouldn’t be laying here, naked under the covers, with a sleeping bakugou illuminated by the sunlight peeking through your black-out curtains.

this wasn’t part of the plan.

the whole pretending to be amicable soulmates plan, sure. but perhaps more importantly, your short-term plan that consists of…well, today and tomorrow.

the last thing you need is to actually be tethered to a person this late in the game.

still, and despite the palpable regret that sits heavy on your chest—the one that’s very bare at the moment albeit concealed under your freshly-washed blanket—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it. besides, you don’t have anything else to blame for your behavior last night other than your own free will.

but why do you still feel so empty?

“you okay?”

ripped out of your stupor, you whip to look to your left, and you don’t know who else you were expecting, but your eyes still widen in surprise when you see a naked bakugou, slightly propped up by his two elbows that strain under his hefty weight. unable to sustain his gaze, you keep your line of vision trained on this one vein that runs along the length of his arm as you merely nod in response.

unsurprisingly, he doesn’t take that for an answer.

“i’m not asking again,” he warns, and your eyes shoot up to meet his in disbelief.

the words are out before you can rein them in. “are you always this mouthy even in the morning?”

“i’m not a morning person,” he simply spits back, as if that’s enough of an explanation in itself.

you furrow your brows at him, having half a mind to lock in on this staredown until the fluid in your eyes dries out and you finally, finally die (or go blind, whichever comes first), but then just as quickly as it possessed you with his challenge, the fight within you dies out, leaving your body limp with numbness and fatigue. you break eye contact when it happens, shaking your head in resignation.

you settle with: “it’s nothing,” and blindly hope he leaves it at that.

“‘s not nothing if it’s clearly bothering you,” he retorts to your chagrin.

“i don’t want to be embarrassingly vulnerable if it’ll make you uncomfortable.”

at that, he scoffs. “we fucked. multiple times last night. it can’t get any more vulnerable than that.”

you flush at his brazenness. “yeah, well, that’s the thing. we…you know,” you lower your voice for the next bit, “had sex, and now the lines are getting blurry and it’s all confusing.”

and when he doesn’t say anything for a moment, you tie your spiel with a mangled bow. “i told you it was gonna be embarrassing for me.”

that seems to rub him off the wrong way, because his nose flares in irritation. “why’re you talking like i’m some cold ass fuckboy? i told you, didn’t i? there’s nothing fucking casual about me.”

“i didn’t mean it like—”

“let me talk first,” he commands, and you shut up.

he sighs when you do, letting his head droop between his shoulders. “i don’t regret it, but if you do, then i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have made a move.”

you sit up from where you were lying down, the motion causing him to look up and at you as you shake your head, “don’t apologize, bakugou. it’s just…”

you trail off, weighing on what you can and cannot say.

“it’s just what?” he prods.

you let out a long exhale. “it’s just things are a bit…complicated, to say the least.”

that makes the pro-hero frown, but he doesn’t get to push you to expound on it because a booming voice erupts throughout the room, entirely juxtaposing the earlier quiet. you startle, then ease up when you realize it’s all might’s, and that it’s merely a ringtone. bakugou scrambles out of bed to fetch his phone, and you manage to look away just in time to avoid catching a glimpse of his massive dick.

which, after last night, is really just for courtesy purposes at this point.

thankfully, you don’t have to stare at the ceiling for too long because he retrieves it in record time, before hurriedly crawling back and flinging the covers on top of his lower half.

he eyes you as he brings the device up to his ear and speaks into it. “what is it, nerd?”

you strain to listen in on the voice at the other end, but you barely manage to pick up on a few words. you resort to observing bakugou’s facial expressions instead.

“cut to the chase,” he spews, and you find yourself feeling bad for the other person. “i’m busy right now.”

you watch as bakugou listens to the “nerd’s” reply, stiffening when the pro-hero curses under his breath.

“it’s next weekend? why’d you have to book it this early, then?”

was he planning to meet this person somewhere?

“shit. fine, i’ll ask her.”

you don’t even get to wonder who her is before bakugou swiftly brings his other hand up to cover the microphone, regarding you straight-up.

“shitty deku and round cheeks want to hang out next weekend,” he explains, slightly hesitant, before: “you up for that?”

you make a quick survey of bakugou’s face. can you even say no, at this point? technically, you can, but an inkling deep inside you points at your needing a distraction, because otherwise…

otherwise…

no, now’s not the time for that.

instead, you nod, forcing a smile on your lips. “i’ll go.”

bakugou stares at you for a beat, gaze borderline scrutinizing it makes you uneasy. but then he nods, and you find yourself taking a sharp breath as he goes back to his phone call.

“we’re in.”

“once again, serving time will be 15 to 20 minutes, and i’m haruhi, your server for this evening.”

you collectively thank the waitress as she beams at the four of you while serving your glasses of water, before turning around to return to the kitchen.

“this restaurant’s really hard to get into, you know,” shares midoriya when the girl is out of earshot, catching your attention. “but i heard their katsudon is really, really good, so i worked hard to get us a reservation.”

“worked hard, my ass,” sneers bakugou without missing a beat. “you pulled some strings. i recognize the owner, he’s the father of one of your top students.”

“kacchan—”

“don’t tease him, bakugou,” the brunette interjects, an adorable pout etched on her pretty face. “i was with him, he was on the phone for thirty minutes with the receptionist begging for a slot.”

“and you two are begging to be teased,” comes bakugou’s snarky quip. “quit it with the whole defending him, would ya?”

you fail to stop the smile that invades your lips as the new couple blush at bakugou’s remark, an unmistakable tinge of pink flooding both of their cheeks.

“if it’s okay to ask,” you start, tamping down the shyness that looms in when the two across you regard you pleasantly, “how long have you been dating?”

“uh, about three months, right, izuku?” uraraka replies quietly, the pink from earlier now blossoming into a more apparent red as she looks at the man.

“y-yes, three months,” confirms the greenhead.

from where he’s seated to your left, bakugou snorts. “it’s been a long time coming, if you ask me.”

“you make it sound so simple, bakugou,” counters uraraka, before shifting to face you. “it really wasn’t easy to get to this point, y/n. i’m not sure if bakugou’s told you, but we went through a lot in ua and even after that, which made entertaining anything beyond hero work impossible. plus,” she adds timidly, “there’s this whole soulmate situation on top of everything.”

curious, you ask. “what soulmate situation?”

and, as if they’ve gone through these motions countless times before, both midoriya and uraraka lift up their right wrists and thrust them forward for you to see. you lean forward to get a better view.

you look at midoriya’s first. his looks just like yours before you met bakugou a little over a month ago—opaque and conveniently set at zero. you then glance at uraraka’s, but to your surprise, hers looks different. a huge number is written on her flesh…

but it’s static and greyed out.

you look up at the woman, confused, and she’s quick to explain. “my soulmate died a few years ago.”

she shrugs, “and izuku’s…well, he’s never heard of them.”

“not that we wouldn’t be with each other if they were both around,” clarifies midoriya, who says it so quickly he almost stumbles over his words. “it’s just that because of these circumstances, our relationship is a bit…unconventional.”

“i understand,” you promptly reply with the most gracious expression you can muster. uraraka shoots you a grateful look, while midoriya bashfully scratches at his head.

you sense bakugou’s gaze on you through your periphery, but you ignore it.

you wouldn’t be able to hold it, anyway.

“it’s romantic, isn’t it?”

you round the corner, careful not to brush against bakugou when he does the same to your left. a sigh of relief threatens to wrack over the entirety of your frame when you’re met with the sight of the familiar-looking street, brightly illuminated by an array of streetlights dotting the entire length of it.

“what,” he says more than asks, effortlessly keeping up with your pace with his long strides.

you take a fleeting glance at him, before shifting your attention back to the pavement in front of you. “midoriya and uraraka, and how they chose each other.”

“i guess…” he responds, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “but i’ve always seen it from lightyears away.”

you pause, although you’re quick to step back into your rhythmic walking. “really?”

“they’ve always had each other’s backs even before ua,” he explains. “it’s creepy how similar they are to each other, too. it’d be weird if they didn’t end up together.”

he says it so seriously you can’t help but laugh. you catch him looking at you, smirking. “you’ve got an interesting way with words, bakugou.”

“sue me.”

you, in fact, don’t sue him, but you do unleash a cutting wisecrack in his direction, which he counters with his, and this goes on and on without pause that you don’t even notice you’ve already arrived at the front of your condominium unit until he points it out.

and as the weighty realization of this dawns on you, so do the memories of what happened when you were last here together. you rush to suppress them, and pick up the conversation from where you left off.

“i don’t know about you,” you quip, tossing him a grin, “but i take comfort in the fact that people can find someone beyond their designated soulmates.”

to your dismay, albeit somewhat unsurprisingly, bakugou doesn’t return it—the grin nor the sentiment, apparently—because he only stares at you weirdly, like you just said something…off.

great, you think to yourself. now you’ve ruined it.

might as well ruin it even further at this point, right?

finally, and to your brain’s relief, you let the damned grin fall off your face, let your shoulders sag from the strenuous effort to seem tall and confident for the last few hours, and you heave a heavy, heavy sigh. you sense bakugou stiffen at your palpable change in demeanor, but you pay it no mind.

“look,” you start, willing yourself to look up to meet his eyes, which you instantly regret because now they’re laced with obvious concern. still, you press on and gulp. “i didn’t want to do this, but i guess i have no choice now, do i?”

“what are you—”

“i know things are weird right now, and i just had to go ahead and start catching feelings like a lunatic, but i—”

you trail off, uncertain, before deciding fuck it. “this can’t go on, bakugou.”

the second you let the words out, you can only watch with anticipatory dread as a million emotions dance across his features. you stand there as he opens his mouth, before closing them, and then opening them again, although nothing comes out.

what seems like an eternity passes before he finally gets something out.

“…why?”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it’s because i’m sick.”

there.

but then he says something that completely throws you off balance.

“i know.”

you feel your eyes widen in surprise as he diverts his gaze. “what? how?”

“i—” he starts, reluctant, before: “i noticed.”

instantly, you flame in embarrassment. you thought you had this whole masking thing pinned the fuck down. and all this time you hadn’t?

you must’ve looked distraught at his admission, because he swiftly tries to soothe you. “don’t hide,” he says, and only then do you realize you’re shrinking in yourself like you do when you want to disappear. he frowns, “the last thing you need to be is fucking ashamed.”

at that, and despite yourself, you snort. you don’t have the heart to tell him you can’t remember the last time you felt shame over your condition from how long it’s just been there—an unwavering part of your life. still, you force a reply. “thanks.”

and before he can say anything uselessly placating that’ll only chip away at the very little you have left, you beat him to it. “i should head inside.”

“but—”

“good night, bakugou.”

and just like that, you spin on your heel, open the door with your keys, and close it shut in his face.

the conversation from earlier wouldn’t leave his head.

even as he tosses and turns on top of his king-sized mattress, and even as the clock ticks past the usual, strict bedtime he’s set for himself as early as high school, he finds himself wide awake, his steady heartbeat the only thing that’s breaking the monotonous quiet of his lonely bedroom.

so much happened in the course of the few minutes in front of your place, that while he prides himself in his acuity and general sharpness, he admits even he couldn’t have responded the way he should have despite desperately wanting to.

which fucking reminds him.

he didn’t get to say he likes you back.

he was so wrapped up in you implicitly trashing your soulmate connection, as well as you calling it quits that he barely registered your hasty confession. not when you immediately followed it up with an acknowledgment of what’s been causing you pain.

and as he stares at the dimly lit ceiling of his room, bakugou arrives at a pivotal realization—his feelings should be the least of your worries.

but that doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve to know.

so with a renewed sense of determination, the pro-hero promptly sits up and reaches for the phone that’s perched idly on his nightstand. 10:07 pm, it reads. you should still be awake by now.

he types out a message.

(10:08 pm) me: you awake? can i call you?

he presses the send button before he can back out of it.

what feels like five minutes pass without a single chime emanating from his phone, at which point he finally allows himself to let the anxiety creep up his neck. he stares at your caller id, debating whether or not you’d get mad if he just went ahead and called you.

eventually, and after five more minutes, bakugou decides he’d rather face your wrath than deal with his own regret.

so he calls you. once, no answer. second attempt, sent straight to voicemail. third, fourth, and fifth, and that’s when a ghastly chill envelopes him.

it couldn’t be.

still, with bated breath and immense dread pooling in his stomach, he slowly lifts his right wrist to check.

only to find that the timer has stopped.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

Soulmate facts x Cosmic Love

Danny had grown constantly checking his soulmate facts. He wasn’t the youngest of his soulmates (there had been two long years where he thought he didn’t have one, where Dash’s words hit hard, before he woke up one day to Arabic on his left arm and English on his right.)

Danny made sure to write down everything about his soulmates. He learned Arabic, struggling for months before he finally learned the basics. He made sure to never cover them, except when he was Phantom, of course. He couldn’t wait to meet them.

Jon was one year, two months and five days older than his youngest soulmate. He begged his mom to help him find someone to teach him Arabic, and only ever hid his arms when he was in costume.

He dreamed of finally fitting with people. He couldn’t wait until he finally met them, and could protect them. He couldn’t wait to never be alone again.

Damian was taught from a young age that his soulmates were important and sacred. They would be his consorts, joining him just as grandmother had joined grandfather for so long.

Damian knew having two soulmates was rare, but he swore he wouldn’t hide them. He wore his arms like badges of honor, tracing the words reverently.(He was the youngest, unfortunately, but he catalogued every fact to help him find them when he was older.)

Damian met Jon for the first time when he was 11, with the matching sentence “I want to be an astronaut.” catching his eye the minute he entered the room.

(It was annoying they shared the same facts, but Jon pointed out the matching was the way they found each other immediately (Damian maintains he would have recognized Jon as his soulmate within a few weeks, simply due to the facts he had memorized about them over the years.)

Jon flew to Wayne Manor the moment he saw that their third’s sentence changed to “I hate dying every day.” They spent months trying to figure out if their soulmate was a meta with a regeneration factor or a terminally ill person whose heart stopped often.

The next years sentence, “My parents tried to dissect me.” was the final straw. They were finding their soulmate, or they would burn the world with them.

His Mask (Kylo Ren x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After your very first mission for the Resistance goes awry, you can’t help but feel a connection to the Supreme Leader sent to interrogate you. However, when he lets you go after reading the name on your wrist, you can’t help but feel like the mission hadn’t accidentally gone so wrong after all. 

A/N: So like… this was one of the dudes I’ve been drooling over for the past couple weeks. Just a warning, I’ve only watched the first movie of the prequels and even that was like four years ago, so I wish you luck. Kylo is just *mwah* so freaking pretty I couldn’t help myself. Enjoy my first fic about a *non-animated* person, and Merry Christmas y’all!

Word count: 4115

        Hot. Dark. Dank.

        The bag haphazardly shoved over your head blinded your eyes along with your other four senses. Stray hairs plastered to your forehead with ease thanks to the sweat you produced combined with the condensation from your own breaths.

        “Please, let me go,” you sniveled. “I don’t know anything, I swear.”

        Your hands flexed and tugged against the metal clamps strapped over your wrists, doing nothing but leaving behind a rash you yearned to soothe. The chair you were strapped into was more like a reclining board, leaving your head to rest on stiff metal while your feet hovered above the floor, ankles confined akin to your arms. 

        “I think you know more than you’re letting on.” The voice was gruff and modulated, giving signs that this was the masked man you oh-so wanted to be the last person to interrogate you. 

        It was frustrating and terrifying all at the same time. Not only did you have no idea what information they wanted to extract from your brain, you also knew your denial of such would only cause them to hound you more. 

        “Come on,” you whimpered, head slamming back with a clang. “Just let me go. Please.”

        Silence followed your words for a solid minute before a whoosh of fabric met your ears. 

        “Leave us,” the robotic voice mumbled, causing two or three heavy pairs of footsteps to trail out of the room. What you assumed was the door hissed to a close with one final click. 

        More footsteps, these ones drawing closer to you, left you only to tense up in anticipation as the heat of another person took the place of the stale air on your right side.

        The bag over your head was ripped away in an instant, causing you to gasp and swallow as much cool oxygen as possible. The light of the room stung your eyes less than you expected, most likely because it itself was dimmed with hues of deep blue climbing up the walls. 

        Taking in your surroundings, you immediately noticed your interrogator was nowhere near your field of vision--probably on purpose. 

        His presence, instead, was palpable behind you as the heat of his form rolled off in waves. 

        “There’s no one here to save you now.” 

        Though you didn’t need to be told that, the thought still drove a cold stake of fear through your heart. 

        “Come on, I don’t know anything,” you pleaded, shifting your position to try and stare at the man who seemed adamant on not allowing you even a glimpse of his form. 

        “Then perhaps I should stop bothering with the theatrics.”

        The man the Resistance had warned you about was… intimidating. At least you knew you could trust them about that fact. Black leather covered every inch of his powerful figure, save for his helmet and cape, and a lightsaber was strapped to his hip. Watching the way his hand twitched just near the handle of the weapon, you feared he would pull it out and slice you right in half any second. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears but it couldn’t silence his voice. Sweat dripped down your face and clammed your palms when his head tilted to the side. 

        He wasn’t shy about observing you, doing so for what felt like hours. 

        “What is your name?” he finally grunted out, posture never changing. You, on the other hand, twitched and shivered every few seconds, itching to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

        Should I lie? Should I tell the truth? Would he be able to know even if I did?

        This man held your fate in his hands. To him, you were just another prisoner to gain information from and deposit into the nearest waste planet when he was done.

        But to you, he was the man who could kill you without batting an eye. It didn’t matter if you were someone’s soulmate or daughter or friend; you were just someone who happened to get involved in this galaxy’s war. A poor soul among many this man was ready to sacrifice in order for him to gain power. 

        You were nothing but another bug to squash. 

        “YN,” you dropped your head to your chest, acknowledging your fate. “YN YLN. And I still don’t know any information that might-”

        Clang!

        You flinched as the lightsaber crashed onto the floor, following its path back to the shaking hand that had dropped it. The man before you now stood stiff as a board but you could hear him suck in a breath between his teeth.

        “Your name is-” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “What’s your name again?” Unlike the last five minutes, his voice suddenly sounded less sure and demanding. He sounded unstable--one of the many emotions you never expected from one of the most feared people of the galaxy. 

        You hesitated, furrowing your brows before forcing your eyes to trail from his still-trembling hand to his mask. “It’s… YN.” You swallowed, licking your lips before continuing, “Why?”

        “Your wrist. Let me see it.”

        “What?” Suddenly, his every movement had your attention. You reared back in your chair and tensed all your muscles, trying even harder to rip straight through the solid metal. “No!”

        “Show me,” he ordered, his tone now sharper than a blade. 

        To hell with him.

        The second he reached for your hand, you ripped it away, keeping your wrist face down against the metal clasp he had unlocked to reach it. Just when he grasped your hand for the third time and tried to rip it away from your side, you did something that shocked both you and him out of the stupor of war. 

        Spit dribbled straight down the middle of his helmet, sparkling in the dim lighting of the room while trailing down every indent in the silver detailing around his eyes. 

        Oh shit. I’m fucked.

        Ever so slowly, he dropped your wrist and straightened his posture, facing his head towards something just off in the distance past your own. You bit your tongue and watched his every move with a hawklike focus, knowing that a man trained as much as him could kill you in a split second without you even realizing. 

        Even when his hand raised in what you expected to be the last backhand of your life, you never looked away or braced for impact. 

        So you grew confused when his hand traveled up to his mask, which came undone with a small hiss of pressurized air. 

        Oh. 

        Oh okay. 

        Wow.

        He was…. His hair was…. Damn.

        This man, the man before you, was hot. Beauty marks decorated his right cheek as hazel eyes burned into your own. A long, straight nose sat naturally lifted above lips that seemed too plump for their own good and dark brown curls that had never heard the words “helmet hair” just barely reached the end of a pointed chin--all of which made you consider your sanity. 

        How-… how?

        “Sorry about the helmet.” Nice one, YN. Apologizing to the enemy.

        His face never changed; he only looked you up and down, properly this time. You were too caught up in the shock of his surprising allure to notice just where his eyes had landed. 

        It was only when you felt your arm being lifted away from your body that you were shaken from your daze. “Hey-”

        “Hmm.”

        Your brows furrowed. “‘Hmm’?” You tried to rip your wrist from his iron-tight grip but you soon noticed the effort was useless. “What the hell does that mean?”

        “Your soulmate…” he trailed off, cheek twitching as he glanced away. “He is…”

        “What?”

        “He’s…” the man set his jaw and returned his gaze to yours. You only noticed there had been a warmth in his eyes when it was gone; all he gave you now was stone-cold nothingness. “He’s dead.”

        His gloved hand dropped your right wrist and it only flopped down to your side. He’s dead. Whatever emotion you’d had on your face dropped in exchange for a blank slate. Tears pricked your eyes and yet you felt stupid for even mourning someone you’d never met. 

        “Oh.” 

        The logical part of you that had shriveled to the size of a worm still questioned the relevance of this all. How did this man know your soulmate? Why had he been so adamant on seeing his name in the first place? What did he have to do with any of this?

        The man you still had no name for clenched his jaw and turned away as a tear slipped down your cheek. 

        “We have no use for you.”

        “What-”

        “You will be returned to where you were found. Now that we know you have no relation to the Resistance, your name will not be blacklisted and you will be left alone.”

        “Why-”

        He left no room for your confused--albeit broken--questions as he turned away and pressed his hand against a glowing panel near the entrance to the room. The door slid open to reveal a blinding, white hallway guarded by a single stormtrooper. 

        “Hey, wait!” You tugged against the restraints as your eyes stayed locked on his back, only to crash onto the cold floor when the clasps suddenly released. “Oof!”

        Click. With his mask situated back over his face, he finally faced you once more, his soldier standing at attention by his side. 

        “I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused you.”

                                +++

        “YN, you’re back!” 

        The Resistance leader, Leia, glanced up from the holopad. Her dark brows raised high enough to meet her hairline as her lips separated in shock. 

        “YN.”

        You struggled to meet her eyes or even fake a smile at the one who had greeted you. “General,” you cringed at your raw voice, feeling the onset of crying side-effects attack you all at once, “can we talk in private… please?”

        Leia schooled in her surprise enough to nod at the other Resistance members, gesturing her head towards the exit just behind you. They filed out accordingly, each one more concerned than the last about your distraught appearance. 

        Finally, when it was just the two of you left in the room, Leia directed you to the table she stood at, shutting down the holopad so the only light in the room buzzed from the ceiling, flickering every two seconds due to the overgrown tree roots weaving in and out of each electric wire. 

        “YN, I’m so sorry we got separated on that mission. I never meant for you to be left behind like that.” Leia shook her head at herself in shame, but something told you she was avoiding eye contact for a reason. “Did you-... are you okay?”

        “Yes,” you nodded, dropping into a single leather chair sitting at a computer a few feet away from the holopad’s table. “Yeah, for some reason, I’m fine. They-,” you glanced at your wrist before swallowing and returning your eyes to her face, “-they let me go. I don’t know why they did, but they let me go.”

        “Did you-”

        “General,” you interrupted with a shake of your head, “please, I need to tell you something.”

        Leia got the hint and grabbed the second chair in the room, sitting with a straight back and hands splayed out on her lap. They seemed to twitch for something--something like a weapon to protect herself. You guessed it was a habit of hers, but since you had only known her for six  months or so, you tried not to think too much of it. 

        Ever since she had found you holed up in your home hiding from the First Order soldiers that had attacked your town, she had taken you in. “Something about you,” she had said with a knowing smile, “I just want to make sure you’re safe.” She had treated you like her own daughter, much different from how she’d treat the other Rebels. Every two seconds, she would scan you for injuries or ask if you were okay. She’d even let you stay in her own home, in a spare room. 

        At least, you had thought it was a spare room. 

        It only took her two months of knowing you before she revealed the name on your wrist was her son’s. The very room you stayed in had been his, Ben Solo’s, and she’d wanted to make sure her son’s soulmate was safe and healthy in case she’d ever found him again. 

        She’d told you the story of how she got separated from him during a skirmish with the First Order and ever since she’d been searching for him. 

        It was only today that you knew she needed to give up the search. 

        “Leia, I-,” your breathing grew quicker and your headache grew worse and before you knew it, you were shedding tears. “Leia, I’m so sorry.”

        The former princess tensed up and reached a hand toward you. “YN, what-”

        “He’s gone,” you whispered, shaking your head and pursing your lips, “I found out when I got captured.”

        “Kylo’s dead?” she breathed out, eyes growing forlorn. You paused, raising your eyes to study her face. 

        “What?” You sniffled, wiping away the tears and growing confused at her words. “What do you mean? Who’s Kylo?”

        “The man who…” Leia’s words broke off when a sort of realization dawned in her eyes. “Oh.”

        You were at a loss for words, utterly confused at her silence when you noticed something. 

        Her eyes. Her nose. The hair, the nervous habits, the “lost” family pictures, all of it. 

        “Kylo was the man who captured me,” you muttered, eyes growing wide and thumb running over your wrist, “but he’s not Kylo on my wrist, is he?”

        Leia was trained in keeping secrets and her expression was as calm as one could expect, but it was only for one single reason. 

        She wanted to let you down easy.

        “No, YN. His name used to be Ben Solo.”

        “And it’s not anymore.”

        “No. Now he goes by Kylo Ren,” she closed her eyes and dropped her head. “That’s his name now… in the First Order.” 

        “You knew?” A spark of betrayal flickered in the pit of your stomach. Though he was Leia’s son, he was also your soulmate. Some part of you felt like you had a right to know what had happened to him--especially if he had done something as significant as turning to the dark side. 

        Instead, she had lied to you, omitting just enough of the truth that you would stick around. 

        Lord knows you would have left months ago if you had learned of the person he had turned into. 

        A thought hit you--a terrible, painful thought that had you gulping and biting your cheek. “Did…” your fingernails dig into your palms to steady your breathing, “did you want me to get captured? By him?”

        Her lack of a response was all you needed to know. 

        “Oh, my God. You knew. You knew the entire time. That’s why you took me in. You thought I could save him.”

        “YN, please, I had to-”

        “You didn’t have to do anything,” you clenched your eyes closed, resentment overtaking anguish deep in your chest. “You didn’t have to lead me to him like a lamb to the slaughter.”

        More tears fell, and the one person you thought you could trust in this galaxy only sat by and watched, opening and closing her mouth without a single word escaping. 

        “I just wanted my son back,” she finally whispered, “I didn’t want him to lose himself like my father had.” 

        “Yeah,” you scoffed, licking your lips and rising from your seat. “Well, now you’ve just lost another person.”

        “YN, wait-”

        “I’m leaving,” you breathed out, shaking your head hopelessly, “so please don’t bother coming after me.”

        Nobody said a word to you as you walked to the nearest empty craft and boarded, and the only ones who tried were hushed by Leia. 

        “Let her go. She wants to be alone now.”

                                +++

        The bar was chattier than usual, though you blamed it on being a Friday afternoon. The outside was hot and though you could still feel the beating sun through the glass windows, the tan building was a hell of a lot cooler. Air conditioning clanked and buzzed as you cleaned glasses and bused bottles. 

        “YN,” the bartender of the night handed you a damp rag and gestured to a table just over the bar ledge, “stop moping around or I’ll cut more than your paycheck.”

        You sighed and grimaced, accepting the dripping cloth before tiptoeing your way around the many customers already reaching their alcoholic limits. 

        Only two weeks had passed since the worst day of your life and you still felt the sting of betrayal and rejection. Not only had the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your life ended up being the daunting Supreme Leader of the First Order, but the woman you had almost grown to love as your own mother had delivered you straight into the palms of his hands. 

        You were lost and confused, trying to find some sort of way to keep traveling across the galaxy by making money anyway possible. Sadly, only bounty hunter bars seemed interested in allowing an unknown, unwanted female to wash their dishes and tables. 

        “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, wedging a used fork under what must’ve been the third piece of gum stuck to a wooden chair that day. Gambling and poker around the room must have reached an all-time high as cheers and groans ringed in your ears. An all-around unpleasant buzz settled directly between your temples as you bit your lip, scraping at the gum harder and harder until finally--finally--the last string of green tore away from the seat and gathered around the fork’s prongs. 

        Forearm burning, you almost permitted yourself a small cheer in success until you noticed a change in the bar’s atmosphere. 

        Everyone was dead silent as the bell atop the entryway stopped jingling. The wooden door creaked to a close and five to ten pairs of heavy footsteps thumped against the dusty concrete of the bar’s floor. 

        Panic froze you like a deer in headlights, hoping your location in the back corner of the bar hid you from whoever had entered. You didn’t even dare raise your head for fear of drawing attention to yourself. 

        The person who had the power to silence a crowd of former soldiers, bounty hunters, and drunk mechanics was not someone you wanted the focus of. 

        More footsteps pounded on the floor, drawing closer before a familiar voice spoke up. 

        “Clear everyone out,” Kylo ordered. “Then leave us.” 

        Your heart jumped at his firm, mechanized tone and a warm wave of fuzzy feelings washed over you. After being by your bitter self for so long, you suppose the new emotion wasn’t completely unwanted. You just… weren’t sure if you were happy about its cause. 

        Eyes still locked on the tabletop, you listened as people filed out of the building without question, more than likely at gunpoint with hands raised above their heads. A solid five minutes passed before the room was left completely empty aside from you and your soulmate, and you chastised yourself for deriving some sort of pleasure out of the opportunity of getting to see him again. 

        “YN.”

        “Why are you here?” You spun around to face him, surprised to find his hand outstretched and reaching towards you. Almost immediately, it dropped to his side as he straightened his posture. 

        Deep down, your heart glowed at his presence, and you hated it. You hated that even after everything that had happened, everything you had learned, that you still wanted to see him. You wanted to feel his touch and see his face again. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see your own name in your own handwriting on his wrist. 

        You cursed at whoever had placed his name on your wrist, because you were falling for the man before you before you had even seen his face twice. 

        Kylo’s hands raised from his side, pausing midway for just a second before reaching up fully and removing his helmet. Like before, it clicked and pulled away with a hiss and, of course, his hair looked untouched. 

        That said nothing of his appearance, however. 

        His eyes held dark circles you didn’t quite remember from your last meeting and his lips seemed paler. The brown locks, as you took a second closer look, seemed more flat and dull than you remembered. 

        Maybe it had been the glory of your first meeting, or maybe it just so happened to be that he was feeling as bad as you had been without having your soulmate by your side. 

        No, it wasn’t physical, like a stabbing pain in your side. It had been more like a piece of yourself had been missing; like there was a hole in your heart that ached and ached, but you just didn’t know how to solve it. 

        Seeing Kylo now made it fade just a little, but just as much time together would be needed to heal how much time you had spent apart. 

        The Supreme Leader set down his helmet just next to your forgotten rag and gum-fork on the table before returning his attention to you. With a twitch of a muscle in his jaw, he met your eyes and spoke. 

        “I thought tracking you down would have been hard, and yet you decided to find home in a place where information can be bought at any price.”

        “Maybe I wanted to be found.” The words slipped from your lips without volition but you couldn’t deny their truth. You wanted to see him again because, though your first meeting had only lasted minutes, you found it hard to focus on anything else.

        His lips twitched at your confession and he took that as an invitation to step closer. “I’m glad then.” 

        “Kylo-”

        “Because you’re coming with me,” he latched a hand around your wrist, “willingly or not.”

        Your eyes widened and some part of you screamed to pull away; maybe it was the logical part of your brain, or perhaps it was your brain altogether.

        Either way, you didn’t care to listen.

        “I’ll go with you,” you nodded, “but only on one condition.”

        Hazel eyes met yours and he nodded curtly. “Anything.”

        “Let me see my name.”

        His brows furrowed for a split second before he released your wrist and removed his right glove, tugging up his sleeve and flashing just the minimum amount of bare skin. 

        YN YLN. Same easy handwriting, a little too heavy in the beginning but lighter in tone at the end. Your name was a bold black, a stark contrast from the rest of his paled wrist. 

        Without a word, you reached forward and snagged his hand, running your index finger over the name and smiling at the quick breath he sucked in. 

        You felt it too--the rush of pure endorphins travelling down your spine, through every nerve ending in your body. 

        Unconcealed happiness. Sheer pleasure. You shivered a tad at the giddiness running through your veins. 

        Kylo was much better at concealing his emotions, allowing only a small tilt of the corner of his lips while his pupils widened at the feeling. 

        “I’ll go with you,” you nodded, a small grin making its way onto your face. “I want… I want to be with you.” If possible, his eyes glowed even brighter and a hint of adoration creased the corner of his lids.

        “Good.” Ever so hesitantly, he reached a hand up to cup the side of your face. “Then we shall rule this galaxy together, my empress.” You leaned into his hold and pressed a hand against his own, intertwining your fingers with his against your cheek.

        “Just one more request.”

        “Anything for you.”

        “Stop wearing that goddamned mask.”

The Red String of Somethingness (Kenma x Reader/Soulmate AU) *Request*

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You’ve been waiting for your soulmate your whole life. Preparing to go into high school, you’re excited for more opportunities to find your destined partner. But… then you find him. And his girlfriend. 

Part 1

A/N: askdfh thank you so much for the kind words🥺 I’m so glad you guys liked that fic, I wasn’t really confident in it. As per requests, here’s a second part to The Red String of Nothingness with a happy ending. I’m sorry it took a lil while to get out :( but uhh I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 2909

        You couldn’t help it.

       “YN, grab the water bottles please!”

       Even though it hurt, some part of you just wanted-- no, needed to see him. Just being in class with him wasn’t enough. 

       “On it!”

       No matter how many times you called it an extracurricular activity, you knew deep down it was so much more than that. It bordered on creepy just how much you watched him during practice. But… it made life more bearable. 

       While, yes, Kenma’s girlfriend would occasionally come and watch practices, most of the time you could pretend she didn’t exist. It was just you and him when she wasn’t around, and you hated how much that thought pleased you. 

       “Thanks.” The blond setter spared you a small smile as he accepted the bottle, gulping down the drink with the thirst of a man stranded in the desert. Practice had gone for about an hour and a half now, and gave purpose to the sweat droplets trailing down his forehead. It took a tremendous amount of effort to even drag your gaze away from his flushed face. 

       You couldn’t help it. As much as you wanted to ignore it, you were falling hard. Kenma was… perfect. He handed out smiles sparingly, making you feel blessed whenever you were on the receiving end. Every move he made was carefully calculated, and you loved the look of curiosity and intrigue that would occasionally flicker when something fell out of place. In volleyball, in school, in life, he was simply all-around breathtaking. You hung on every sparse word that fell from his lips because God, he was just beautiful. 

       Often you wondered if he thought the same about you. 

       Yes, yes, you knew he had a girlfriend. That simple fact kept you awake at night, biting back tears and hugging a pillow to your chest. But during the day, you never let it show. Because, well, it simply felt good to see him. Being around your soulmate, together or not, made the pain just the tiniest bit more bearable. 

       That’s what soulmates were supposed to do, after all. Comfort their other halves with their presence, make them feel loved and cherished. So yes, just being near him, just being his volleyball team manager was enough. 

       “Kenma, you’re doing so good baby!” 

       Most of the time. 

                               ~~~

       School sucked. It always sucked. 

       More recently, however, you thanked whatever floated up in that deep blue sky for it, because you sat next to him. 

       “Ms. YLN, please pay attention!” You straightened up in your chair and nodded your head frantically, blushing at the sounds of giggles around the room. 

       “Sorry sir.” The teacher glanced at you over his glasses with pursed lips before returning to the board, scraping random equations in white chalk. 

       You couldn’t help it. It was the only time Kenma’s girlfriend was guaranteed to not be around. In those times, your heart fluttered at his proximity. It seemed you had become hyper-aware of his presence over the past few weeks, shivering at even the slightest bit of contact. 

       Like a lonely dog, you felt touch-starved, depraved of your body’s most necessary essentials. Not being around Kenma made you grumpier, more easily disturbed and aggravated. Being around Kenma’s girlfriend, however, had the same effect. 

       Moments like those, where Kenma was so close to touch and yet so far away in your heart was when you defaulted to your newest habit-- poking, prodding, and twirling the red string on your pinkie. 

       Weeks-- or was it months-- ago, you had sputtered the lie that you couldn’t see it; that Kenma’s eternal attachment to you was one-sided, but it soon became your largest source of comfort. 

       Now was one of those moments. You had a lapse in judgement, and being nervous and embarrassed after being called out by your teacher, you slipped up. And Kenma saw. 

       Gnawing on your lip, you anxiously pinched the ruby string. It was smooth, almost like silk, but just as thick as woven yarn, wrapped loosely around your final finger. You twisted and rotated it, spinning nervous circles around your skin. 

       And then you tugged. 

       Kenma’s left hand, absent-mindedly holding up his chin while the other drew lazy patterns on his desk top, slips right out from under his head and falls limply into the aisle space between your and his desks. He barely avoids face-planting by flattening his other palm against the table and holding himself up, and by then you know you’re screwed. 

       His eyes are wide as they dart to his fallen arm, dragging it back up to his desk and staring in bewilderment at his hand, or more specifically his pinkie. Even more specifically, the red string wrapped around it, trailing through the air and creating a flimsy bridge to you. 

       Oh shit.

       You’re clenching your jaw and avoiding his awed gaze with all the will you can muster, but a discovery has already been made. 

       “YN-” 

       “Mr. Suzuki!” You snap your hand up in the air in an instant, trying to ignore how it trembles. The red string is clearly visible to both you and Kenma at this point, and fuck, he knows! “May I please go to the bathroom?”

       “Can it wait-”

       “It’s an emergency!”

       “Ohh, y-yes please do.” 

       Kenma watches you with a look in his eyes you don’t dare decipher as you slip out of the classroom, ducking your head and chewing on the insides of your cheeks. 

       Goddamnit YN!

                               ~~~

       Attending the volleyball game tonight almost wasn’t an option, but the coach begged and pleaded that you be there. 

       “Bring it to me!”

       It was only a practice game, but against your school’s most fated rivals. The “trash-can showdown,” everyone was calling it. 

       “It’s up!” 

       The other team, Karasuno, was good, but less-experienced. However, they did have a little spitfire on their team that appeared almost identical to a tangerine, and slightly reminded you of Nemo. 

       Wham!

       He was good too. 

       Kenma, however, seemed out of it. He could play his best during a thunderstorm wrapped up in a monsoon, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t see how disturbed he was. Especially since every few seconds his eyes locked on you.

       But alas, the game also had one very special guest. Her. So you kept your distance and avoided his presence like the plague. 

       Slam!

       Pop!

       Boom! 

       The game is over sooner than you expect it, and you flip over the last point card. Nekoma wins 25-23, and all the boys are worn to the bone. 

       “One more game!” the ginger spiker cries aloud, his blue setter nodding in agreement. 

       They’re the only ones standing while everyone else is passed out in sweat puddles. “Fuck no!” Yamamoto hisses, dropping his head back to the floor directly after. 

       A giggle sounds from the wall, but only you were close enough to hear it from your spot nearby. It’s Kenma’s girlfriend, and she’s watching…. 

       Oh. 

       You knew that look before. Her petite figure, from head to toe, is directed toward Karasuno’s pint-sized middle blocker. 

       You couldn’t lie. They would look good together. Perfect even.

       Oh. 

                               ~~~

       Weeks. Fucking weeks passed and they were still together, just as lovey-dovey as before, if not more so now. 

       Distantly, you wondered if Kenma knew. You wondered if she had told him she met her soulmate. You wondered if…. 

       Fuck it.

       There was no point in wondering. They were still together, and not even meeting their soulmates had stopped them. 

       It was the ultimate blockade in their relationship, and they broke through like no big deal. Maybe you were right. Maybe you just weren’t meant to be, no matter how much you fucking praised yourself for finally gaining the guts to tug on your string. 

       That shit doesn’t happen on accident, you know. 

       But obviously it had no effect. A young spiker at another school would be left just as lonely as you. His eyes were so bright and innocent, full of life. You envied him, so naive and wide-eyed, because unlike you, he would never have to watch his soulmate with somebody else. The boy, Hinata you think his name was, would go his whole life with the hope that one day his soulmate would find him and be with him forever.  

       God, how you envied his obliviousness. You didn’t want this baggage, emotional and physical. The more you were around Kenma, the more your string tugged against your pinkie, urging you to fight for what you would never win. 

       Perhaps… without the connection, you could feel better?

       Certainly it wouldn’t hurt, right? 

       Just a little snip and you could go back out into the world just as your own soulmate had done. Find someone to settle down and be happy with, no matter how daunting of a task that was. 

       Maybe Kenma could be happy for you, just as you had been for him initially. Surely this act would benefit you both, right? 

       The string was just… useless at this point. It held no purpose other than pain. And with that, you had decided. 

       Finding scissors in a school is easy. An art class was your first target. All classes had just ended and people were making their ways home. 

       Volleyball practice would start soon.

       You would be there, happy as a clam. Free as a bird.

       You only had twenty minutes before it began. Luckily, the action could be performed quickly. It was the internal resistance that made the task five hundred times harder. 

       The teacher had left for the day, leaving her classroom unlocked for the custodian. Students occasionally walked past the open doorway, still emptying out of the building, and if they were to glance inside, all they would see is you. You, seated upon a desk, a pair of scissors in one hand, the other hand sitting tentatively in your lap. You, blank-faced observing your pinkie and the string wrapped around it. 

       You, ready to let go of all the pain. 

       It won’t hurt anymore, YN!

       When you see him, he’ll just be another person to you. A nobody.

       You can move on now! Find someone for yourself if you just fucking snipped it!

       The blades stood parted, waiting for the order, for just a little pressure on both ends. Then it would all be over. 

       But you couldn’t. 

       No matter how much you strained your hand, urging yourself to squeeze the muscles, close the blade and rupture the broken promise, you couldn’t do it. 

       “Goddamnit,” you mumbled under your breath, squeezing your eyes closed and wishing you weren’t crying over this. 

       It was so unfair. The only person being hurt throughout all of this was you. Nobody else cared. Nobody else noticed. Nobody else-

       “YN.” What?

       You jumped at the sudden voice, soft and all-too familiar. The blades slipped between your fingers after having flinched and clattered to the floor, catching more ears than anything else. Kenma’s gaze only flickered to the kiddy scissors once before it returned back to you, pained.

       “You, umm, you shouldn’t do that.” 

       Excuse me?

       “What?” You were the definition of dumbfounded, immobilized on top of the desk with your fingers twitching just above your lap. 

       “You shouldn’t do that.” 

       Nothing had changed. He stood right in the doorway, the sunlight from the hallway windows giving his uneasy posture an angelic aura. No emotion was clear on his face; instead, it was a mixture of furrowed brows and pursed lips, followed by golden eyes that swirled with an unfamiliar emotion. 

       He, in himself, was a blur of mixed messages. 

       “Why not?” Of course you knew what he was talking about, but you felt more and more peeved at his words. He had no right to tell you what to do with such a useless, unbearable, futile red string-

       “We broke up.” 

       …

       Oh.

       Suddenly it was hard to breathe. 

       “W-what?”

       “She broke up with me.”

       You were speechless. Mouth gaping like a fish, you struggled to find the words, any words to say to him. You didn’t even know how to feel, so you settled on the most basic reaction for when someone says those words. 

       “Oh, Kenma I’m so sorry.” 

       “No you’re not.” 

       “Excuse me?”

       “You’re not.” He shrugged, finally stepping into the room and letting the door fall to a close. “And do you want to know how I know you’re not?” 

       You couldn’t respond. 

       “It’s because I’m not sorry either.” The words leave your heart racing as Kenma approaches you. Every step he takes triples the number of butterflies in your stomach. His shoes squeak against the floor but your eyes stay locked on his. You just couldn’t look away. You didn’t want to. 

       Finally, he’s close enough to touch you, just a hand’s width away from your knees where they bend and let your lower legs dangle. Your ears are perked and lying in wait while you fiddle with your fingers in your lap, hoping to fight off the urge to reach out for him. 

       “YN, I’m not sorry because it felt right.” Kenma shakes his head. “It felt good- actually, no, not good. Perfect. I wasn’t supposed to be with her.” He sounded hopeless. “On the inside, deep down, I realized I was glad I wasn’t.” 

       “...Why?” 

       “Because that girl who sat next to me in class, the girl who managed for all of my volleyball games and yet she didn’t know about our red string, she was on my mind twenty-four seven. YN, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

       You were wrong. Kenma didn’t sound hopeless. Sure, he sounded confused and lost, but not hopeless. If anything, you were finally able to identify that look in his eyes. Hope. 

       For a moment, you had nothing to say. Your chest was almost overflowing with joy, but something… something was stopping it. Apprehension stood in the form of a shadow of doubt. Why didn’t he…

       “Why didn’t you do anything sooner?” You had just wanted to get the feeling out in some form of words. The feeling of Why did you string me along for weeks after finding out I knew?

       Kenma was smarter than he looked. He always was, so you were glad he had uncovered the meaning behind your words. 

       “I thought…” he gulps and finally looks away after minutes of watching you, “I thought you didn’t want me. You didn’t tell me you knew about the string, and when I found out,” he shrugs, “I figured you didn’t say anything because you didn’t want me.” 

       Maybe… maybe you had both made mistakes. You had both indirectly hurt each other. Each of you was broken and hurting after what had transpired for months. Maybe the best way to go about fixing it was to finally do it together. Be together. 

       “I did want you. And I still want you. Do you… want me?”

       At last, Kenma raises his head and makes eye contact with you, causing your heart to do somersaults in your chest. His cheeks are rosy, most likely almost identical to your own, and he decides to gift you a hint of a smile. 

       “Yes, please.” 

                               ~~~

       “Kenma, set it this way!”

       “One touch!” 

       “I got it, I got it!”

               “Back me up!” 

       The setter was back to his A-game, and with every successful play, he sent you a glance.

       Like a good girlfriend, you sent him back a proud grin each time that made him flush more than the sweat dripping down his temple. 

       By the end of the game, they won with four points to spare. The team hopped around in joy, screaming and pumping fists with cheers of triumph.

       A small tug on your pinkie directed your eyes back to Kenma, where his lips twitched in effort to hold back a grin. Another tug almost pulled you off the bench, causing you to rise to your feet with a giggle. 

       The moment you came closer, Kenma shyly wrapped his arms around you and released an excited squeak into your hair. 

       “We won.” You could hear the restrained glee in his tone, it’s only outlet being the steadily increasing tightness of his hold around your waist. 

       Fine, you would celebrate for him, as always. 

       “YEAH YOU DID!” you squealed excitedly, digging your fingers into his sweaty jersey and jumping up and down. His form stayed stiff against your own, jiggling back and forth with your movements. 

       It was only when you tried to peel away that he finally responded, tugging you back in and smiling against your neck. “Geez, calm down, it’s only a game.”

       “Pfft.”

       Kenma chuckles and presses a kiss to your skin and suddenly you’re on cloud nine. 

       Nothing could be better than this, because this was destined. This was written among the stars, etched into the many spirals of the milky way, crafted only by fate itself.

       This was two soulmates, forever meant to be. 

        What a useful red string this is.

aHhdhdh is it ok to request a angsty soulmate au with kenma 🥺 with the words "a soulmate who wasn't meant to be" basically bc u are able to see the red string of fate, and you knew u were destined for kenma, however he fell in love with another... 🥺🥺

The Red String of Nothingness (Kenma x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You’ve been waiting for your soulmate your whole life. Preparing to go into high school, you’re excited for more opportunities to find your destined partner. But… then you find him. And his girlfriend. 

A/N: Angst. Why angst? Cuz angst. Apparently y’all either want me to improve my angst skills, or you’re just obsessed with the genre altogether. Either way, I am really sorry this request is so late, and I hope it’s what you were looking for. Enjoy!

Word count: 1444

        Your heart knew before you did. You were in the gaming aisle, stupidly deciding to buy a new game before the first day of school just to get ahead on your procrastination from the get-go. 

       Suddenly, your heart starts thumping like a herd of wild elephants as a wave of adrenaline hits you. You feel happy and excited all at once, but you have no clue why. 

       Then you see him. 

       A red string is wrapped around his thin, long pinkie while he browses through the games. 

       At least you had something in common.

       The string trails on the ground all the way back to you and you can’t help but grin in excitement. He’s perfect, probably because he’s your soulmate. 

       Long, blond hair with black roots barely brush his shoulders and he’s almost drowning in a red sweatshirt. His face is blank, but your mind runs wild, imagining all of the ways you two could smile together, teaming up to play games or battling it out against each other. And judging by the name on his clothing, he goes to your school too!

       Okay, I can do this. I can do this! I’ll just walk over to him and introduce myself!

       You’ve always wanted to be one of those people who could say with pride that they wanted to choose who they were meant to be with. To have that much self-confidence that you could find someone to spend the rest of your life with must be quite the rush.

       Sadly, you were an introvert. The red string of fate, connecting soulmate to soulmate was a blessing to you. You didn’t have to search for your perfect match, because he was right here, directly in front of you! 

       And you couldn’t wait to meet him. 

       Would it be awkward at first? Painfully silent after you introduced yourself? Or would he be a surprisingly good conversationalist? 

       You wanted to find out oh-so badly, but something was holding you back.

        I’m scared.

       What if he… doesn’t like you? What if he didn’t want a soulmate? What if… what if he had already found someone?

       You shook your head at yourself. 

       No. He’s around my age. No one finds a replacement for their soulmate that early. I can do this!

       Allowing a soft smile to grow on your face, you take a deep breath and set down the game you had been busying yourself with. Here we go. You swivel towards him, rolling your shoulders back and starting your stride. 

       Then you stop. 

       Then your heart stops. 

       Oh.

       A girl has come up behind him, beaming as she taps his shoulder and waits for him to turn around. As he does so, she holds up a game that makes his entire face light up. 

       He looks… so happy. 

       He accepts the game shyly and mutters a thank you, ducking his flushed face after she presses a kiss to his cheek. Then she intertwines her fingers with his and swings their arms all the way to the checkout. 

       Oh.

       You’d never seen a boy so smitten. Not even your parents or your grandparents ever looked that in love. 

       Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. Frozen in shock, you ignored the subtle tugging of the red string on your finger. 

        It didn’t matter how close he was. He would never be yours. 

       You were playing a game that someone had already won. Running a race in which someone was already hugging the trophy. 

       Oh.

                               ~~~

       The next day, you woke up feeling empty. No, not empty. 

       Filled with anguish and pain. God, how you wish you felt empty. 

       Feeling nothing would feel so much better than feeling all of this.  

       But life moves on, and never turns back to see those who are being dragged along in the dust. 

       So you slip out of bed, completely emotionless. You brush your teeth, slip on the uniform, brush your hair. 

       At a certain moment, you’re not even thinking. You’re just doing. 

       But no matter how much you do, deep down you know nothing’s going to change. 

       In the blink of an eye, you’re sitting in your new classroom. People chatter around you, filled with liveliness and excited for the new year. But you’re just there. 

       Your gaze is locked outside the window where two birds are building a nest in an oak tree. A third bird will fly by occasionally, but the same two never stop what they’re doing. They’ll be together forever. The nest is already built, and the third bird can’t stop it. 

       There’s nothing the bird can do. 

       “Oh.”

       The telltale metal screeching of a chair signals that someone has taken the seat next to yours. That person’s breathing has grown faster and more frequently stuttering. 

       A finger taps your shoulder, dragging you out of your daze. But it zaps you with the electricity of the first touch. 

       You strain to hold back a whimper. It’s him. Reluctantly, you swing your body around to meet his face. 

       Yeah. It’s still him.  

       God, fuck! It’s still him.

       The blond boy keeps switching his gaze between the string wrapped around your pinkie and your blank face. 

       “Did you need something?” 

       The words slip out involuntarily, bitter and spat with distaste. But the implication is taken all wrong. You don’t sound like someone who’s discovered their soulmate is in love with someone else. 

       No, you sound like the average, impatient student, reluctantly attending high school but wishing to just go back home. 

       The boy takes it this way, and you can tell deep down he wonders if you’ve noticed the string. 

       Maybe… maybe you could use this to your advantage. Maybe this could be how you handle the situation. Sure, one day you might regret it, but right now, this could be the only way to live with the pain. 

       “Can…” he trails off and glances away shyly. His voice is soft and warm, like a gentle melody to your ears. This is gonna suck. Then he holds up his hand to your gaze, displaying the string on his pinkie. “Can you see this?” 

       Of course I can. It’s a sign that you’re my soulmate. That you’re the one I’m meant to be with. You’re the guy that’s supposed to be perfect for me. The one that’s supposed to love me forever.

       You want to hurt him. Make him feel the pain you felt yesterday. You want to be petty and slap him with the facts that he was hurting you by being with someone else. You wanted to hurt him with the fact of How fucking could you? How could you be with someone who wasn’t your soulmate? Why are you so cruel?

       “Uh, yeah…? It’s called a hand. I have a couple of those myself.” 

       But you can’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

       “Oh.” The word falls from his lips with confusion. The boy stares at the string around his pinkie with furrowed brows and you turn your face when he glances back up at you. “Okay. Sorry for disturbing you.” 

       “It’s fine.” 

       No, it’s not. But you shrug and say it is anyway. 

       Your heart twinges with every passing second and self-deprecating thoughts filter through your head. 

       “Kenma!” Shoes slap against the floor as a girl runs in your direction. A girl slides between your desk and his, creating a barrier in more ways than one. 

       “Hey.”

       “Babe, I took your sweatshirt again. I hope you don’t mind.”

       “No, it’s fine.” 

       It sounded more than fine. And when a skirt barely covering a butt slowly grows closer to your face as she dips down and kisses him, you can’t help but resent your existence. 

       “I’ll see you at lunch babe.”

       “All right.” 

       He sounds flustered but content, and when you take a peek at him out of the corner of your eye, you can’t help but sigh. 

       Your soulmate looks happy. “Kenma” looks happy. Maybe you could be okay with that. You just wish you had been given a chance. 

       But maybe you two, as soulmates, weren’t meant to be. 

       What a useless red string this is.

Part 2

Misleading Marks (Iwaizumi x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Your soulmark is a wonderfully misleading pain in the tuchus. Luckily, your hunk of a soulmate makes it all worth it. 

A/N: Started off rough, but I swear the ending is better. Love me some good old soulmate aus. Enjoy!

Word count: 1803

        When your soulmark first popped up on your wrist, you adored its simplicity. It had come to you on the morning of your fifteenth birthday, and you couldn’t help but admire it the whole day. Even through school, your teachers had eventually given up on gathering your attention. You were otherwise occupied with worshiping the blatant statement on your wrist. “Hi, my name is Oikawa,” it read, and you kept rubbing your thumb over it, eventually developing a nervous habit from the act. You couldn’t help it; it was comforting. Knowing someone was out there, perfect for you. And easily detectable thanks to their words. You felt blessed.

       That mindset on your soulmark didn’t last long. Soon, you attended Karasuno High School and made new friends. Friends who had more exciting soulmarks. For example, Kiyoko had the cheesy pickup line “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?” inscribed on the inside of her forearm. While she found it less than satisfactory and often cursed fate for giving her a pervert for a soulmate, you thought it was rather endearing. The person meant for her seemed playful and fun, and you begin to think of your own soulmate differently. Insecurities began to run through your mind more and more every day. Even Sugawara, another friend of yours, had a cute phrase. “Do you have candles for all that cake?” Adorable. A little straightforward, but you liked it nonetheless.

       Just to be clear, you adored your friends, and you were happy they had gotten such fun soulmates. But to be honest, their marks made you jealous, and at times you would stare at your own and wonder if you were destined for simplicity like that for the rest of your life. It was, after all, your soulmate’s first words to you. But before you could judge, you wanted to meet him. Oikawa, your apparent soulmate. 

                               ~~~

       It was your third year of high school before you ever heard his name aloud. While helping Kiyoko manage a practice volleyball game at Aoba Johsai, you finally heard the name you had been waiting for for three years. 

       “Oikawa, so glad you’re back, you pain in the ass. Now come out here and set for us!” The spikey-haired ace of the opposing team demanded with admittedly attractive folded arms. 

       “You’re so mean, Iwaizumi! Can’t you take it a little easy on me? I am injured, after all,” the brunet whined. The rest of the argument faded away as you dazed off in wonder. At first, your eyes were still stuck on the ace, but you began to feel guilty and pulled them away to stare at the newcomer. At your soulmate. He was hot so was that “Iwaizumi”, tall, and playful, many traits you admired in a guy. But he just seemed… disappointing for some reason. He seemed wrong. You chalked it up to your past predictions of him being lame. After all, you couldn’t let feelings like those get in your way. You were closer than ever to meeting the man on your wrist; Kiyoko had even given you a pointed look, which you had shaken off. Meeting with him would have to wait till after the game. 

                               ~~~

       Whelp, the game had ended fairly quickly, but damn did Oikawa have an arm. It was like a rocket, and you couldn’t help but compare it to the ace’s on his own team. You know, for strength-wise comparison’s sake, totally not anything else. Totally. Anyways, after the teams thanked each other and you helped Kiyoko clean up the stray water bottles, you asked her for advice on how to talk to him. 

       “Just go do it,” she shrugged, her voice flat and matter-of-fact-like. When you had first met her, the emotionless she seemed to have irked you at first. Now that you had known her for years and become her best friend, however, you knew she cared deep down. Her tone when she spoke just never showed it, and you were finally used to it. What you were not okay with, now, was her terrible advice.

       “Seriously? That’s it, that’s all you got? ‘Just go do it’? Dude, you’re killing me here.” She sent you a withering glare at your whining and you froze at the sight. Oh right, she was friggin’ terrifying at times, too. 

       “It’s now or never, YN.” Okay, that one got to you. She was right, this could be your last chance, or your first meeting with your soulmate. Only you could decide. Flashing her a grateful smile, you rushed out a “thank you” before jogging to the other bench on the court where he was packing up equipment as well. 

       “H-hey, um, I’m YN,” you stammered and bit your lip bitterly at the embarrassing first words he definitely had on his body now.

       With an arrogant glint in his eyes, he smiled back charmingly at you and smoothly replied, “Nice to meet you. I’m Oikawa.” Uh oh. Those aren’t the right words. Now you have an itty bitty problem. 

       “Oh.” That’s all you could manage to sputter.

       “Oh?” he questioned cheekily, taking a step toward you. You stumbled back at his advancement while laughing nervously. Visibly confused at your reaction, Oikawa furrowed his brows while he halted himself in place a foot or two away from you. 

       Finally having enough breathing room, you shake your head to clear it. An action which you soon come to regret as you seemed to have lost your filter in the process. You question him thoughtlessly, “Do you have any siblings?” Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to take offense. Oikawa was smarter than he looked, as he caught on quickly. 

       “Not any that don’t already have soulmates,” he answered pityingly, eyes softening at the words on your wrist. 

       Swiftly, you tug your mark behind your back and wave your other hand dismissively. “That’s okay. Umm I have to go now, bye.” Without another word, you hustle out of the room and out to the bus waiting to return to Karasuno, not actually sad but more frustrated at the sympathetic eyes that trailed after you.

Stomping angrily up the bus steps, you sat down harshly in the seat next to Kiyoko, who questioned you silently. You only shook your head in response, your mouth setting into a hard line. She didn’t say anything but grabbed your hand and squeezed it comfortingly. Lips quirking up at the action, you squeeze back gratefully before shifting around in your seat and falling asleep to the bus ride’s gentle lulling.

                               ~~~

       Seeing him again made your heart pang slightly. It was the first official tournament of Karasuno’s volleyball season, the Interhigh Preliminaries. You were alone in your section of stands, and happened to be one of the few people here to support your school. But still, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the other court.

There, Aoba Johsai was playing. No, they were winning, and by a landslide at that. Oikawa was smirking, but you figured that was his normal facial expression at this point. However, he wasn’t the one who had caught your attention right off the bat. It was that damn brown-haired ace again, and watching his muscles flex everywhere right before he spiked was… thrilling in a way. Your eyes pledged loyalty to his biceps, and you weren’t one to go back on your promises. At least, until you had to pee. Nature called, and you really had to pick up. 

       After doing your business and washing up, you pushed your way out of the bathroom and waved your hands around like an enthusiastic nutcase to air-dry. 

       “Damn empty paper tow-” your bitter mumbling was interrupted by a voice that was evidently more familiar to your heart than to your brain. Giving in to its demands, you subconsciously followed the sound while simultaneously eavesdropping on the conversation. 

       “Why don’t you just ask her out then, Shittykawa?”

       “You know I hate that nickname, Iwa. And plus, I’ve only talked to her once before at that practice game against my annoying prodigy.”

       “So what? You’ve asked out girls before without even knowing their names.” Their voices were getting closer, and just as you step around the corner into your hallway, you make eye contact with that panty-dropper of an ace- oh shit, where’d that come from? He looks back to his friend- is that Oikawa?- before continuing, “Just walk over to her and say,” the volleyball player halted his words before directing them at you in a mockingly shrill voice and imitating, “Hi, my name is Oikawa.” A shock flowed through your system and you tensed up at the words. Oh, hello there, not Oikawa. You knew you should respond. But even though you didn’t want to dishonor yourself and your cow, your jaw felt wired shut. Your mouth, however, got a little impatient at your lame excuse. 

       “I thought your name was Iwaizumi.” Your soulmate stopped in his tracks and stared at you in amazement. Yeah buddy, now you know how I feel.

Oikawa’s whines began to fade away along with the world around you as you gawk at the ace, but that was nothing new. You zone out all the time while staring creepily at people, it’s just that now it’s socially acceptable because he’s your soulmate.

His olive orbs are captivating, but not enough to distract you from the awkward silence that begins to ensue. It was painfully quiet, and after a while you tried to escape his eyes and look away only for your eyes to stop at his broad chest, disappointingly covered in an open white and turquoise jacket. Sadly, his jersey resided underneath. You know, lately I’ve heard that going around shirtless is all the rage nowadays. Wanna be more trendy? Hey, maybe next time you could say that out loud. Soulmates were supposed to love each other implicitly, so he might actually listen, right? You're halted in your mental rambling when Iwaizumi begins to chuckle, causing a wrinkle in his shirt. That wouldn’t be a problem if he just took it off. Suddenly, you have to dropkick yourself out of your daze when he begins to speak, figuring you should probably start learning how to listen to others now that you found your “other half.” 

       “Sorry you almost thought you were stuck with Shittykawa here for a second.” He gestures to that one guy standing next to him while glancing down at your soulmark. Without another thought, you begin to smile widely at him, reveling in the mischievous twinkle in his catlike eyes while savoring the lovable grin on his face. Fate, you sneaky bastard. You win this round.

A Hairy Situation (Bokuto x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Back home in America, YN was free to dye her hair whatever color she pleased. But now that she’s transferred to Japan as a foreign exchange student, she realizes that she’s much closer to her soulmate than she used to be... hence why her hair looks like an explosion of black and gray. What an asshole.

Author’s note: Haikyuu!! Bokuto x reader soulmate au. This one was also written at 3 am...and then deleted, so now I’m pissed. This is better than my first fanfic tho... I think, so enjoy!

Word count: 3775

        When the new girl stepped into Karasuno, all eyes were on her. One, because she was new, duh. Two, because she was an American transfer student nobody expected to arrive. Three, because her hair looked like an explosion in an old-school, black-and-white film. As soon as people noticed this unavoidable characteristic, they pitied her.

“Her soulmate is such an asshole,” the students whispered amongst themselves. After all, who would want owl-like hair on the top of their head, aside from a sadistic jerk.

       Here is a little known biology fact about soulmates in this world: females hold the recessive gene for hair. If two female soulmates got together, their hair colors would blend. If two males got together, their hair would be an equally-expressed mixture. Finally, when a female and a male soulmate are in close enough proximity to each other, as like all soul matches, the female’s initial hair color retreats to make room for the male’s hair color. That’s just simple human-soulmate genetics, existing in the world since the dawn of time. 

       Everyone knew the girl must not have been the cause for her hair color for one simple reason: she looked absolutely miserable. Her hands were white-knuckled around the straps of her school bag, and her shoes squeaked as she pathetically dragged her feet along the floor. She decided to keep her head down, and because of this, no one had noticed how she was fuming. With clenched teeth and burning, E/C eyes, the girl resisted the urge to throw a string of curses every glimpse she caught of her hair. Wait no, not of her hair, of her soulmate’s hair.

Unfurling the crumpled schedule in her hand, YN finally looked up to search for her classroom, resisting a sneer when her fellow pupils at last saw how pissed she truly was. Rushing into her homeroom, she met with the teacher, took her seat, and buried her striking head into her folded arms, hoping and praying to the heavens for the power of invisibility.

                            ***

       It was a known fact that when a soulmate pair was heterosexual, the female, try all she might, would never control the hair color of her other half. No dyes, no matter how strong, could erase the evidence of true-love proximity. Way early on, scientists had done the math and discovered that soulmate hair color would show when the two individuals were, at most, 250 miles away from each other.

With this idea, YN figured that her destined male companion must be in Japan, but she had no idea where. Back in the United States, she was free to dye her hair any color of her choosing, but had stuck with H/C on her flight to the Miyagi Prefecture. However, after getting off the plane and taking a much needed bathroom break, she had almost cried in despair when she saw her peppered strands. Now, she figured she could tell the future, as in that bathroom she had guessed the exact nickname the current bullies in Karasuno had just called her: Salt and Pepper. 

       At first, she had despised it, but after hearing it twenty times in a row during her lunch break, it began to grow on her. Much like her hair color. She realized that it wasn’t half-bad, and that the nicknames would simply be the worst thing to come from it. YN had passed all the stages of grief and had finally moved on to acceptance, as she realized it was out of her control. She would, however, explode on her soulmate once she finally met him. The amount of an ass-kicking he would receive would lead to him begging her to stop so he could go buy hair dye immediately.

YN was practically drooling at the idea of saving her reputation and getting to kick someone’s ass all in the same day, but she was shaken out of this dream by a jumpy ginger and his stoic, blue-eyed companion. She had been walking down the halls, planning to return to her class after lunch hour, only to be halted by their indiscreet whisper-conversation as they passed. 

       “Kageyama, doesn’t her hair remind you of Bokuto? That amazing ace from Fukurodani?” 

       The short redhead poked his companion in the side, only to receive a smack to the back of the head as the other calmly stated, “I guess so. We are pretty close to Tokyo now that I think about it.” 

       YN whirled around on her heels and caught up with the pair while exclaiming, “Hey, you guys know my soulmate? Where is he?”

       The taller one, Kageyama she assumed, stayed impassive even as a small blush grew on his face before he stated, “We don’t know for sure, but it could be this guy we know from Fukurodani Academy.”

       The shorter one added, “We’ve played him in volleyball, and he’s amazing! Their team is actually travelling down here tomorrow for a practice game! You should come.”

       “Oh, I definitely will. Sounds fun.” YN’s eyes flared at the idea of meeting her soulmate, if only to tell him off, and the heat that exuded from her stare caused the two boys to shy away slightly. Hinata, she learned, told her the time and place of their volleyball match tomorrow, to which she thanked him with mischievous eyes before strutting away, mentally preparing for the inevitable beat-down the next day.  

                               ***

       Volleyball, YN decided, is actually pretty entertaining to watch, but their practice is boring as hell. It looks so much more fun to play, YN thought to herself, biting her lip in excitement. Her nerves were aflame with anticipation, and she would finally get to meet her soulmate. The rousing idea of possibly encountering him for the first time almost distracted her of her main goal. Almost.

However, this fact didn’t matter. YN would never forget the first night of her arrival in Japan, standing in the bathroom of her host family and glaring at herself in the mirror. Well, not herself, but her hair. Every clump of black interspersed with light gray had increased her resentment of him. She didn’t want to hate him. This was revealed when she suddenly began tearing up while looking at herself. 

      YN wanted to believe he was just a fun guy who joked around and enjoyed others’ attention, but she knew differently. The world was cruel, and the odds were stacked against her, and from that night on, the young girl began to buy into the idea that others were selling her.

“My soulmate is such an asshole,” she had whispered to herself in the mirror before crumpling to a miserable ball on the floor.

YN was stuck in a foreign country with no friends and no family, surrounded only by strangers she rarely understood without thinking very hard, who accused her soulmate of being cruel and pitied her because of that supposed fact. Now, as she watched Karasuno’s boy’s volleyball team practice for today’s game, she couldn’t help her mind wandering back to what Hinata had told her.

       “He’s amazing! And super nice too! He taught me this move where my arm prepares to go ‘Bam!’ but then it slows down to make the ball go ‘Fwoosh!’ I can’t wait for you to see…” The ginger’s voice faded away as YN recalled the memory of his rambling and complementing of her soulmate. 

       Maybe he won’t be so bad, YN thought to herself, but was startled out of her daze when the doors of Karasuno’s first gym burst open with a loud “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

A smile grew on her face at the sound of the amusing voice, and YN was surprised by her involuntary actions, but decided to let her grin stay when she saw who spoke. It was her soulmate, salt-and-peppered hair and all.

                               ***

       “Been a long time, Tsukki boy!” Bokuto shouted as he clapped his blond friend on the back. 

       Tsukishima scrambled to catch his glasses as they popped off his face, recovering them and haughtily pushing them back up his nose with a strong finger while declaring, “It’s only been like two weeks, and you need to quiet down, you’re giving me a headache already. I won’t make it through the game if you keep this up.” Halfway into Tsukishima’s rant, the blond had been instantly forgotten when Hinata raced over to Bokuto, jumping up and down in front of the third year while excitedly chatting with him. 

       “Hey, Bokuto, I’ve been working on the move you taught me! It works great, I can’t wait to kick your ass with it!” the carrot-top enthusiastically bragged.

       The owl-haired ace chuckled boisterously in return, ruffling the ginger’s hair while playfully responding, “Alright little man, show me what you got.”

Rolling his eyes, Akaashi proceeded to drag Bokuto away from Karasuno’s first years, warning the older that he wouldn’t get any sets if he didn’t start practicing. The ace took the slight to heart and scrambled over to Fukurodani’s side of the net, grumbling under his breath about how mean his setter was. 

       As the game commenced, Fukurodani’s captain could not resist his eyes straying to the stands, feeling as though something was calling to him from there, begging him to take just one glance.

Directly above Karasuno’s “Fly” banner stood a girl. Not just any girl, but a girl with black and white hair. When Bokuto spotted her, his smile grew larger than the universe itself, and he waved at her frantically after she made eye contact. The girl’s face grew a few shades shy of a tomato, and she softly smiled, giving him a small wave back.

Returning his attention to the game, Bokuto knew not only would he not lose, but he would also scrub the floor with these guys, no matter how friendly he had been before. After all, his soulmate was watching, and he would do everything he could to keep her gorgeous gaze on himself. 

                               ***

       “What the hell was that idiot thinking, waving at me in the middle of the game. He’s gonna get one right to the face, I just know it. What a cocky bastard,” YN rambled to herself, covering her warm cheeks with her cold hands. No matter what she did though, the burn stayed, and the smile that was hurting her cheeks was probably definitely part of the problem.

Her eyes never strayed from his form for a second during the first set, and the only word she could think of to define her soulmate was hella “Thick.” He was a good thick, hell, a great thick. The best thick in the whole, goddamned, world- okay what. What is wrong with me, she thought to herself, shaking her head as if to erase her previous musings. YN was taken out of her mental cleansing when she heard a whistle blow. The telltale end of the game’s first set. Immediately, the girl’s first instinct was to look for him, Bokuto, but she instead, for whatever reason, decided to duck out of the stands and go to the bathroom. 

       “What is wrong with me?” YN repeated to herself as she observed her red cheeks in the mirror. After all that time, the pink hues hadn’t slightened even the tiniest bit, but YN was more confused as to why she was okay with that fact. That she almost wanted her soulmate to see how shy he made her feel, how nervous she was around him.

Maybe it was because he seemed so nice, and to make up for how she had assumed he would be rude, she allowed him to see her blushing like a sprinter after a marathon. Maybe it was that, just maybe yes. Either way, YN knew she would have to leave the bathroom sometime, and she didn’t want to miss the rest of the game. 

                               ***

       Fukurodani had won the first set; not by a landslide as Bokuto had hoped, but only by two points, finally earned after a long rally. But a victory was a victory, no matter how small, and when Bokuto stepped off the court with an over-eager fist pump and multiple high fives from his teammates, his eyes first traveled to the stands.

After scrutinizing every inch of the gym’s upper level, he still couldn’t find her. Maybe he had scared her off? Was the waving too much? No way, with the way she blushed but smiled and waved back anyways, Bokuto knew she was ready to stay in for the long run.

Sadly, no matter how much or how long the ace assured himself of his soulmate’s feelings, he felt doubt creep in the longer she was absent from the stands. What if she thinks she can run onto the court and greet me after hearing those whistles? That would be so cute, but she would probably be reprimanded for it though. But it would be worth it, right? God, I hope she does that…. The owl-haired captain continued to ramble to himself mentally as the rest of his team kept their heads in the game, discussing how to defeat Karasuno in the next set. 

       “Washio, I know their number ten is fast, so I need you to keep following him whenever you see him make a move. The others up front will… Bokuto? Are you listening?” Akaashi trailed off while watching his captain glare at the stands and mutter under his breath.

       Hesitantly, the setter placed his hand on the third year’s shoulder, only to have Bokuto quickly swivel back around and irritably snap, “I’m fine, let’s just keep playing.” Shaking off Akaashi’s grip, the ace marched back onto the court, ready to land twenty-five service aces in a row, just to show his soulmate what she was totally missing! Behind Bokuto, the rest of his teammates sighed and rolled their eyes.

       Sarukui watched Bokuto before saying, “Okay, I know it’s happened before, but isn’t it, like, a little too early for this? I don’t think it’s ever happened this quick.”

       Akaashi shakes his head and flatly responds, “I don’t know, he seemed a little distracted even during the first set. And remember when he waved to that girl in the crowd? I don’t see her here anymore, so that might be part of it. Either way, let’s just play without him and hope he’s able to get back into his groove even if she doesn’t return.”

The rest of the team nods in agreement and jogs back toward the court, avoiding the tempermatic captain preparing to serve. Akaashi stays back and glances at his coaches, only to receive a questioning look as they gesture to Bokuto. The setter only responds with a shrug of his shoulders before hustling back onto the court. All we can do now is hope for the best, Akaashi thinks.

                               ***

       When YN returns to her place behind the banner with cooler cheeks, her eyes are immediately drawn to her soulmate. He seems to be getting ready to serve, but he won’t even look up at her. YN knows he must feel bad after she disappeared, and wonders how to make up for her actions without embarrassing herself, knowing she would need a little reassurance too if she was in his position.

The owl-haired ace is fuming on the court, and suddenly YN wonders how volatile her soulmate truly is. As Bokuto throws up the ball, preparing for a jump serve, YN flinches at how loud the sound of impact is, and watches as the ball flies over the net, crashing hard into the wall directly behind Karasuno. The two defenders in the home team’s back row do not even get a chance to watch the ball as it flies past them with horrendous speed, and their eyes go wide in...surprise? Or fear? Maybe both.

After the scene, Bokuto falls to his knees dramatically and releases a loud groan, shaking his head in his hands. “Damn it, I’m so stupid! What have I done?!”

       YN glances nervously at the slight dent in the wood paneling of the wall and wonders if he’ll have to pay for damage. “Crap,” she whispers to herself, knowing what she has to do.

                               ***

       Akaashi has been there for many of Bokuto’s mood swings, and he’s seen it all.

Well, apparently not until now. From his own red handprints left on his cheeks to stomping around like a five-year-old, Akaashi knows about Bokuto’s temper like bees know about honey. It’s obvious, he’s been around it a lot, and he knows what to expect… or, at least he used to know.

Now, it’s like undiscovered territory, and Akaashi is wary of stepping on any landmine that might just cause his friend to explode.

With an outstretched hand, Akaashi wonders whether he should approach Bokuto or not, but before he can decide, the doors to the gym burst open.

Kageyama and Hinata observe silently as YN rushes past them, ducking under the volleyball net and beelining it towards Bokuto, her black and white hair flowing in the air from her speed. Nobody makes a noise to protest or warn her as she approaches him, slowing down in close enough proximity for him to feel her presence. Ever so dejectedly, the ace of Fukurodani raises his head to look at her, before blasting up to his feet and embracing her in a tight hug. 

       “I’m so sorry for scaring you away. Please don’t reject me, I don’t think I could handle it.” Bokuto’s voice wavers slightly as he clings to her even harder, his head tucked into her shoulder. YN wonders if he’ll start crying, but shakes off the thought and slowly twists out of his grip. At first, he hugs her even tighter, then he slowly, begrudgingly listens and peels away from her body. Bokuto tries to step away dejectedly, only for YN to grasp his hand and lead him out of the gym, ignoring the many pairs of eyes watching.

       Before shutting the door, YN looks at both teams and politely smiles. “Continue.” 

       Watching the pair of soulmates disappear behind the exit, Akaashi closes his dropped jaw and shares an incredulous look with the people around him, shaking his head before shrugging his shoulders once more.

“May as well.”

                               ***

       Bokuto’s eyes glow as YN watches the door close before embracing him in a warm bear hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I screwed up your game, and I distracted you and I just left before saying anything. But to be honest, I was just, I don’t know, kind of scared.” Her voice is muffled in his shoulder, and she keeps hugging him tighter and tighter until he feels like he can’t breath, and he doesn’t mind.

Actually, as a matter of fact, he’s reveling in it. This feeling, the feeling of someone absolutely needing him to know that they care for him, and that they were sorry for his game going awry, it makes him giddy.

Bokuto has decided he also likes breathing though, and pats her back in an effort to get her to unclench. Just a little, because when she starts to pull back too much, he roughly tugs her back in, and the breath of fresh air her lungs had just received is too-quickly released back to the atmosphere.

       “It’s okay,” he grins against her, “I’m just glad you came back. I wanted- needed you to come back. I wanted to meet you properly before I left you.” With that statement, she pulls away and narrows her eyes at him.

       “Umm, where are you planning on going?” she asks, flustered at the thought of him leaving so soon. 

       “Well, you know, I kind of live in Tokyo. And you’re a foreign exchange student, right? I just needed this one chance for us to, you know, meet.” YN had totally forgotten that she wasn’t from here, and that he was only visiting Karasuno for a practice match. After today, who knows how long it would be before she got to see him again. Quickly, she grasps the front of his jersey as she demands, “I need your phone number.”

       “Wow, ‘need’ huh? I’m not used to girls being so forward.”

       “Oh, shut up and gimme it.” YN whips out her phone and passes it to him, open and ready for a new contact.

Bokuto’s heart warms, and while typing in his information, he becomes all excited and jumpy at how desperate his soulmate seems to need contact with him. He decides he likes to feel needed, and he also decides he doesn’t like how far away his soulmate is at the moment.

Stepping directly to her, Bokuto whips out YN’s camera and grasps her on the shoulder, tugging her close and kissing her on the side of the cheek as she blushes rose-red for the picture. Snapping it quickly, Fukurodani’s captain sets it as his contact picture and sends it to his phone as well.

Eagerly, he shows her the picture he had taken and watches as she begins to shy away from him. Catching on quick, Bokuto hurriedly wraps his arm around her shoulder and tucks the side of his head into her hair. 

       With both of them still staring at the photo, Bokuto moves his mouth towards her ear and cheekily whispers, “We look amazing together. We must be destined for each other or something.”

       He moves away with a bright, slightly smug smile as YN softly nods. “Yeah, something like that.” Bokuto moves to stand directly in front of her and observes her bashful appearance, trailing a hand up to twirl a strand of black-and-whiteness between his fingertips. 

       “Your hair looks great like this, by the way.” 

       The mood in the hall darkens abruptly at his words. YN’s pleasant smile falls from her lips, and she instantly remembers that he is her soulmate. He is the one who ruined her hair from the moment she landed in Japan.

Oh man, did she get pissed. Turns out Bokuto isn’t the only one whose attitude can change in an instant. Maybe it has something to do with the hair?

                               ***

       Inside the gym, as the teams decided to keep playing, the game was going well. Karasuno’s newly developed skills were working, and Fukurodani was learning how to adjust to games without Bokuto. Just as the second set was about to end, however, the teams heard something... slightly unsettling. 

“Bokuto, you son of a b***h, what the f**k is wrong with you?! You a**hole, who the hell dyes their hair this color?! You dumba** motherf*****, I’m gonna kill you!” 

       Suddenly, Bokuto bursts into the gym and runs around like a headless chicken, releasing an ear-piercing screech.

“Akaashi help, my soulmate’s trying to kill me!”

The setter wasn’t surprised; he would react the same way if he had that hair and couldn’t change it. And as YN charged into the gym, storming after her fated lover, something told her she wasn’t as much of a fan of her hair as she originally thought.

More Than a Name (Ban x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: While escaping from the Holy Knights who are chasing after not her, but the name on her wrist, YN runs into the last person she expected to see so soon: Ban, her soulmate. 

Author’s Note: This is my first x reader/overall fanfiction that I have ever written, so please be nice:) (and I wrote it at 3:00 am using speech-to-text cuz I’m lazy so…) I do realize it is a little, you know, terrible, so I apologize, but I just wanted to finally write something for once in my life that wasn’t for a class. Anyways, onto the story!

Word count: 1884

        People were lined up and down the main street of the town like a bunch of impatient ants waiting for food. YN knew this was a waste of their time, and nervously scratched the skin just below the leather bracelet on her wrist. Ashamed, she watched as her neighbors were grabbed harshly by their right arms, inspected, then shoved away with unnecessary force as the Holy Knights reached for the townspeople next in line. YN knew what they were looking for too; it was people like her. Those with one of the names of the Seven Deadly Sins gracing their flesh.

       Months ago, Great Holy Knights Dreyfus and Hendrickson had asked that the soulmates of the Sins give themselves up for the greater good of Liones. The Knights wanted to use the Sins own perfect partners against them, use them as human bait. When no one had admitted their affiliations, the Knights decided to invade towns one by one, searching for leverage on the Sins in soulmate-form to goad them to surrender their lives up for capture.

       Now, as YN lay in wait inside her small home near the town square for a Holy Knight to knock down her door and kidnap her, she decided to return to packing and not give up hope. She had been distracted by the small glimpse of her fellow townspeople waiting in a line for nothing, and finally realized that if she had made eye contact with any one of them, she would be done for. Shoving the last of her shirts into her heavily-packed satchel, she laced up her brown boots and headed for the back door. Her pants sagged slightly, so the girl removed the decorative string from the V of her blouse and wrapped it tightly around her waist through the loops of her pants, constricting her airways slightly but ensuring her clothing security. YN knew that she would have to move swiftly, so there would be no time to fiddle with the loose riding pants she had stolen from her neighbor. Sure, thievery was bad, but YN’s survival depended on it, and her strict wardrobe of work skirts and flowy blouses would not make for quick travel.

       Just as she slinked out of her home's second exit, the young woman heard the last thing she wanted to hear shouted across the square. Over the top of her house and through the alleys of the buildings beside it, a Holy Knight declared, “We are looking for a YN YLN.” Like a deer in headlights she froze while observing her clean escape, the forest behind her home, with wide, fearful eyes. Deciding hastily, YN took a chance and made a run for it, loudly shouldering through branches and stomping on twigs as she rushed past the trees. She had no idea where the blurs of brown and green around her led, or even if they ended, but the girl decided she would rather be eaten by a rabid bear than be endlessly tortured and waiting for her outlaw of a soulmate to save her from the clutches of the dastardly Holy Knights. The racket she was making in the woods could have never been quieted by the mumbling lines of people in the town, and YN knew that, so she sprinted harder than her legs could take, muscles burning from the taxing movements. Just when the young woman could no longer hear the steps of her pursuers over her own heaving pants, she burst into a clearing and screamed at the sight of a giant and it’s ginormous, green pet pig, adorned with a building for a hat. YN screeches in fright once more when she tries to backtrack herself, only to notice the Holy Knights once again, directly on her tail. Suddenly, her feet are dangling in the air as YN is enclosed in the gentle, almost tender grasp of the female giant behind her.

       Giving YN a calming smile, the human colossus states, “Hi, there, I’m Diane.” She gestures to herself before pointing to YN’s followers and asking, “Why are you being chased?” YN’s eyes widen in recognition at the name before glancing to the side at Diane’s pet pig, only to see three more curious pairs of eyes blinking from atop the animal along with a second, smaller pink boar.

       However, YN is no idiot, so when she makes eye contact with her fated lover, the first words out of her mouth is “Shit,” muttered under her breath. Fighting her urge to struggle within the giant’s grasp, YN looks at Diane once more before stuttering out, “Please help me.”

       During all of this, Ban’s ruby eyes grow in offense at YN’s first word, asking, “Should I be insulted? ‘Cause I feel insulted.” YN cannot hold back an eye roll at his dramatic statement during her personal crisis. Shocked at her brazen action, Ban goes rigid and drops his jaw. Meliodas, YN assumes, smacks Ban on the arm to bring him back to the matter at hand, which is chasing off YN’s pursuers. Meanwhile, the young girl fights off her newfangled urge to throw up after discovering her fear of heights in Diane’s grip.

                               ~Timeskip~

       After Ban and his blonde companion accomplish their job of beating Knights into submission and fear, the last soldier that had followed YN limps away while shouting, “We will kidnap every last one of you Sins’ soulmates, just you wait!” before rushing back into the forest faster than lightning. This act causes YN to ponder if that was some special ability of his, or if it was just his inner-wuss taking control in fear of retaliation on the Sins’ behalf. The gray-haired female, who YN has learned was named Elizabeth and was also a princess of Liones (all while boredly waiting for the Sins’ return), gasped in fear at the Knight’s bold declaration.

       Gowther, the last Sin to leave the Boar Hut at the sounds of the battle’s ruckus outside, gave a resounding “Hm” while inspecting YN after the statement. The remaining Sins all shared a conjoined moment of understanding, their mouths forming ‘oh’ shapes as they turned their gazes to the young girl, eyes tracking as they watched Diane finally, finally, return her to the forest floor.

       YN clenched her teeth as she awkwardly stood in the spotlight of the group’s scrutiny. Chuckling nervously, YN slowly backs away as she spouts, “I don’t want anything to do with you guys, I swear. I don’t even know why they were after me, they had the wrong girl.” Her eyes quickly moved from person to person, warily watching to see if she had convinced them. 

       Ban easily noticed that she was lying and joked, “Wow, if you really don’t like your Sin of a soulmate so much, you must be Gowther’s!” He laughs over dramatically at his wisecrack to ease the tension, but when YN swallows and laughs anxiously once more, Ban has another epiphany and declares, “Holy shit, I was right!” YN’s eyebrows raise at his obliviousness, but quickly lower when Ban approaches her. His plan soon becomes evident, as the albino wants the pair of lovebirds to meet via him dragging YN to her impassive “soulmate.” This idea, however, is quickly shut down when YN flinches away from Ban just as he is about to grasp her wrist. The Sin of Greed is surprised and worried by her actions, concerned he has hurt her in some way. Meliodas, ever the gentleman, hurriedly reduces the thick atmosphere by ordering the large, green pig to burrow into the ground. YN has no time to be startled, as she is quickly ushered inside the building on top of the hog. Diane remains outside, talking quickly and silently with the Sin of Sloth, occasionally glancing through a window at the gang inside. As YN steps through the doors of the cozy bar and gazes around in pleasant surprise, she gives her attention to the Sin next to her, Gowther, who opens his mouth to state something.

       Before the pink haired man can speak, however, Meliodas shouts, “Gowther, Elizabeth and I need to talk to you!” before dragging his soulmate and his fellow Sin out of the room, winking at YN and slamming the door. Flinching at the loud bang before rolling her eyes in exasperation, YN acknowledges what she must do. She takes a seat on a stool of the bar and gestures for Ban to do the same.

       While slowly lowering himself into his seat, Ban decides to exercise basic human decency by asking, “So, what’s your name?” YN shuts him down immediately, shaking her head.

       Pursing her lips, she vaguely proclaims, “I don’t want to say until I see.” She adds quietly, “Can you show me your wrist...please?” Her eyes are almost sad as she watches him confusedly flash his wrist to her, and YN presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth to prevent her gasp. There it is, her own scrappy handwriting gracing his pale skin in harsh, permanent ink. The young girl inhales slowly, but she knows it is not enough oxygen as her lungs burn and she begins to feel lightheaded. Still, she decides against the act of loudly inhaling for fear of drawing his eyes to her, unknown to YN, pleased-looking face.

       Slowly, the young woman gently hovers her fingertips over the marking of her name, just far enough away that neither of them could feel the promised “sparks” of first soulmate-contact. Almost unwillingly, YN pulls back and finally makes eye contact with Ban again. She wants to commit his beautiful, red orbs to memory, and attempts to do so as she slowly unlaces her leather bracelet, smiling faintly when the act draws his eyes. She wants to remember them, and she knows that for a fact.

        ‘At least if he doesn’t like me, I could still remember something beautiful from this moment,’ she tells herself, admiring his white lashes as well. Tearing away the bracelet like a Band-Aid, she uncovers his own name on her wrist, written softly in cursive. It’s perfectly imperfect, as it’s his complete opposite; while he’s often erratic and wild, YN finds his name on her wrist comforting.

        Ban becomes still the sight, but YN scrutinizes his reaction even more, preparing to book it out of there if need be. Slowly, Ban reaches out to touch his own name, almost in disbelief of the view before him. Sparks flow up YN’s arm and throughout her whole body after he makes contact, and a warm, tingling feeling follows. It’s like a combination of adrenaline and anticipation, she notes, and it finally settles in the pit of her stomach. This time around, YN cannot withhold her gasp, and Ban’s face slowly raises to reveal a smile. Not a cocky, irritating smirk like the ones she had seen printed on his wanted posters, an expression he normally wears, but a genuinely happy, almost teary-eyed grin. 

        With her eyes on him, he whispers softly, “I found you,” while tenderly rubbing his thumb back and forth across his own name. No longer fearing rejection, YN is ecstatic as she returns his smile full-force.

Everytime he transforms they wonder if this is it. This is the time that he won't come back. This is the time the mark will stay black. Everytime they pray to a god they may or may not believe and hope, not this time. Please don't let this be the time they stay dead.

Ok kinda funny/a bit angsty idea danny has a soulmate mark that shows how your soulmate is doing in the alive injured critical dead sense when the soulmate dies the mark goes black

Now Danny's mark has been through most/all the phases he was a bit worried about the dead part but they came back so he's not that worried

Danny's soulmate on the otherhand a batfam member is freaking the fuck out every single day his soulmate dies amd comes back to life what the hell if wrong with his soulmate that he can keep coming back to life

Basically when danny transforms to phantom his mark registers him as dead and the bat family are freaking out because one of their members soulmate has died like 63 times this week what the hell is up with him

One day Danny collapsed. It was the middle of a perfectly fine lunch, the entire family was there. Danny had stood up for a moment before he swayed and paled, an achievement considering how pale he was. He looked at Damian, actually truly looked him for the first time, and said, "Sorry". Then he collapsed, nearly hitting his head on the mahogany table.

Suffice it to say, pandemonium was unleashed. The had rushed him to the Batcave (it was closest, Danny, his Soulmate's pulse was already so weak and thready, they had just met Damian didn't want to lose him so soon, no no no no-).

They ran every test they could. It's findings turned up... weird. And concerning. VERY concerning. Severely anemic. Severely vitamin deficient. Severely low blood sugar. Slow heartbeat. Low blood pressure.

Everything wrong, all at once. It shouldn't have been possible! To have all those things going on at once. He had been eating with them consistently, how could he turn up severely malnourished? The low blood sugar? Where did he lose the blood?! He wasn't injured (despite the concerning amount of scars), he shouldn't have lost that much blood.

Everything was wrong. So, so wrong. This wasn't an enemy he could punch, it was something he didn't know. Damian didn't know what to do.

His soulmate was dying.

He soulmate had KNOWN he was dying.

And Damian wasn't able to do a single. Damned. Thing.

Damian had a soulmate. Too the suprise to his family, well on his father's side. His mother and grandfather had a knowing look. They had something to do with it. Well, oh well. Danny was found on the streets of Gotham and refused to say anything about his past. That's fine, this family was used to less than amazing past.

But Damian was unhappy with this. For being his soulmate, Danny took longer to warm up to the family than Damian himself did. With less violence at least. But he seemed to be a hallow version of a happier person. A ghost of a person. But ever so slowly he warmed up to them, seeming more alive. But still Damian was unhappy. Danny was his soulmate yet he treated Damian like everyone else. He even avoided Damian entirely at times to be with someone else. (What was he doing wrong? He was trying so hard! Was he such a demon that even the other half of his soul wanted nothing to do with him?)

Grayson said that it wasn't true, but Grayson was wrong.

soulmate au | nagito x reader (wip)

~~~~~~~

summary: in a world where every nickname, adjective, and description used for your soulmate is inked onto your skin, you haven’t had a single kind word written on you in years.

content: derogatory language, self esteem issues, implied bullying/abuse

wordcount: 1.5k

notes: eyyyy technically my tumblr writing debut? not that it’s a very grand one. this is a very old wip that i thought i may as well get out there. enjoy??? maybe???

~~~~~~~

The first nickname appears when you’re five years old.

It’s a graceful, scrawling cursive printed just above your heart. Ribbons of ink curled over your skin as if you’d taken a pen and scribbled across your chest.

You can’t read it, of course. Can only trace the lettering with clumsy fingers and wide eyes, warmth tingling beneath your fingertips as if an electric current thrummed beneath your skin. And in the most simple of ways you know this is yours.

Keep reading

weirdly specific genres of fics i love

teacher au where all of the students think that they are cheating on their partners but the characters are actually married

streamer/youtuber au where two (or more lol) characters are dating secretley, but their channels are sort of rival like and the fandoms each hate the other

that brand of hurt/comfort (iykyk)

chat fics and i have a love hate relationship but you know when you find that one that is just the perfect mix of jokes that might be old but you still love and great plot *muah*

i mostly read angst (oops) but finding that perfect fic of the characters just cuddling is the best thing ever

this ones more for superhero fandoms but anything that includes an identity reveal, but only in the two extremes of either super angsty or the biggest joke ever

soulmate au where everyone is confused and nobody knows whats happening at any point in time but at least they love each other

GAME SHOW FICS THEYRE SO RARE BUT SO GOOD

ive never read the hunger games series but hunger games au’s just hit so different

personality swap/mood enhancer au’s where either the anxious person gets super snarky or the stuck up person gets super sad usuabshsksudfjeie i love these ones

and last but not least, the strongest and/or angriest character is faced with a small animal or bug and it is revealed that they are greatly terrified of this creature

I'm such a sucker for soul mate aus in fanfics so many of them are so cute and fluffy ugh

I actually found one recently! My little heart flipped and whooped with so much joy!!!

It's one of my most favorite fics ever and my ultimate favorite Parksborn (and maybe Marvel or/and soulmate) fanfic in all of existence!

(Oh but you have to log in!)

Props to @stranger-awakening for writing this masterpiece! (You made me cry from your writing and when I lost this fic twice)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1108008

a moment of silence for all the fics that were masterpieces but you'll never find them again