#Consulting Slides Design

[visual-sculptors]

Distinguish yourself through our exceptional design solutions - presentations that eloquently convey their message - Visual Sculptors

[shivam-blogs]

Why Presentation Design Consultancy Services Are a Game-Changer for Businesses

In a competitive business environment, the ability to communicate effectively through visuals can make or break a pitch, meeting, or campaign. Whether it’s a high-stakes investor presentation or a marketing deck for stakeholders, the impact of well-designed slides is undeniable. Yet, creating professional presentations that align with your brand while capturing your audience’s attention is no easy feat.

This is where presentation design consultancy services come into play. By combining creativity, strategic thinking, and technical expertise, these services transform ordinary slides into powerful communication tools that drive results. In this blog, we’ll explore why these services are vital for businesses, how INK PPT Design Agency can elevate your presentations, and the benefits of working with expert PPT designers for business presentations.

The Importance of Presentation Design in Modern Business

In today’s fast-paced business world, presentations have become a core element of communication, whether you’re pitching an idea, presenting quarterly results, or launching a product. However, a generic or poorly designed presentation can dilute your message and fail to engage your audience.

Why Design Matters in Business Presentations

First Impressions Count: Your presentation is often the first impression your audience has of your brand or idea. A professional design creates an immediate sense of credibility and trust.

Simplifying Complex Information: Visual storytelling can help simplify complex data and concepts, making it easier for your audience to understand and retain the information.

Engaging Your Audience: A visually appealing presentation keeps your audience engaged and encourages active participation.

Supporting Brand Identity: Consistency in design reflects your brand’s professionalism and attention to detail.

What Are Presentation Design Consultancy Services?

Presentation design consultancy services go beyond basic slide creation. They offer tailored solutions to ensure that your presentation aligns with your goals, audience, and branding.

Key Offerings of Presentation Design Consultancy:

Customized Designs: Tailored presentations that align with your brand’s guidelines and messaging.

Content Strategy: Structuring content for clarity and impact, ensuring your message resonates with your audience.

Data Visualization: Converting complex data into easy-to-understand infographics, charts, and visuals.

Platform Optimization: Designing slides compatible with platforms like PowerPoint, Keynote, or Google Slides.

Revisions and Support: Ongoing collaboration to refine and perfect your presentation.

Why Businesses Need Expert PPT Designers

Creating a compelling presentation requires more than just technical skills; it demands a deep understanding of design principles, audience psychology, and communication strategies. Expert PPT designers for business presentations bring this expertise to the table, ensuring every slide is crafted with purpose.

Benefits of Working with Professional Designers:

Time Efficiency: Free up your team’s time to focus on core tasks while experts handle the design.

High-Quality Output: Professional designers ensure your slides are polished, consistent, and visually appealing.

Tailored Messaging: Designers understand how to structure content for maximum impact, tailoring the narrative to your audience.

Versatility: From pitch decks to training materials, expert designers can handle a wide range of presentation types.

How INK PPT Design Agency Transforms Presentations

As a leading name in the field, INK PPT Design Agency specializes in helping businesses create presentations that leave a lasting impression. With a team of skilled designers and strategists, the agency provides end-to-end solutions for all your presentation needs.

What Sets INK PPT Apart?

Innovative Designs: INK PPT is known for its creative approach, crafting unique visuals that capture attention.

Tailored Solutions: The agency offers personalized services, including Google Slides customizations for marketing teams, to ensure your presentation aligns with your specific needs.

Experience Across Industries: INK PPT has worked with clients across various sectors, giving them a deep understanding of diverse business requirements.

Focus on Storytelling: Every presentation is designed to tell a compelling story, ensuring your audience stays engaged from start to finish.

Leveraging Google Slides Customizations for Marketing Teams

In addition to PowerPoint, Google Slides has become a popular tool for teams looking for seamless collaboration and cloud-based accessibility. However, the default templates often lack the sophistication required for professional business presentations.

Why Custom Google Slides Matter:

Brand Consistency: Custom slides incorporate your brand’s colors, fonts, and logo for a professional look.

Enhanced Collaboration: Google Slides allows team members to work on presentations in real time, making it ideal for marketing teams.

Reusable Templates: Custom templates save time and ensure consistency across multiple presentations.

By offering Google Slides customizations for marketing teams, INK PPT Design Agency ensures that businesses can leverage the platform’s potential while maintaining a polished and professional aesthetic.

The Future of Presentation Design

As technology continues to evolve, so do the tools and techniques for creating impactful presentations. Businesses that stay ahead of these trends can gain a competitive edge by delivering presentations that not only inform but also inspire.

Emerging Trends in Presentation Design:

Interactive Presentations: Incorporating clickable elements, animations, and multimedia for a more engaging experience.

AI-Driven Design Tools: Using artificial intelligence to automate design suggestions and streamline workflows.

Data-Driven Storytelling: Advanced data visualization tools enable more effective communication of insights.

Sustainable Design Practices: Digital presentations reduce the need for printed materials, aligning with eco-friendly initiatives.

Tips for Creating Impactful Presentations

While working with presentation design consultancy services ensures a professional outcome, here are some tips for businesses looking to elevate their presentations:

Start with a Clear Objective: Define what you want to achieve and structure your presentation accordingly.

Keep It Simple: Avoid clutter by focusing on key points and using minimal text.

Use High-Quality Visuals: Invest in professional images, icons, and graphics to enhance your slides.

Practice Your Delivery: A great design is only effective if paired with a confident and engaging presentation style.

Conclusion

In a world where attention spans are shrinking, the ability to deliver compelling presentations is more critical than ever. Presentation design consultancy services offer businesses the expertise and tools needed to stand out in a crowded marketplace.

Whether you’re looking for expert PPT designers for business presentations, Google Slides customizations for marketing teams, or end-to-end support, partnering with professionals like INK PPT Design Agency can transform your presentations into powerful storytelling tools.

By investing in professional design services, you can ensure your message resonates, your brand stands out, and your goals are achieved—one slide at a time.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Three

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love

-----

You’d been to the bar with your friends countless times, but tonight felt different. You’d spent extra time on your makeup, carefully applying every touch of eyeliner and lipstick, hoping it might catch Bucky’s attention in a way that it hadn’t before. It was one last attempt, and even though you told yourself it didn’t matter, the small flicker of hope lingered all the same.

At the booth, everyone was in high spirits, laughing and talking as Steve waved down the bartender for the first round. You sat at the end of the booth, Steve beside you, with Sam, Wanda, and Natasha across from you. It was your usual spot—comforting, familiar. You caught your reflection in the window beside you, checking your lipstick one last time, anticipation tightening in your chest as you waited for Bucky.

The door jingled, and you glanced up, your heart skipping when you saw Bucky walk in, his usual wide grin lighting up his face. But just behind him, her hand in his, was Kate.

The air stilled as he led her over, his smile somehow brighter than you’d ever seen. “Hey, everyone!” he said, giving a little wave before gesturing to the woman beside him. “This is Kate.”

Everyone exchanged glances, taken aback. Bucky never brought anyone around like this. But they recovered quickly, giving her friendly smiles and welcoming her.

You forced a smile, even as he gestured for Sam, Nat, and Wanda to slide over so he and Kate could sit across from you. It was so casual, yet such a strange departure from his usual spot beside you. The group quickly rallied, one by one, shaking her hand or offering small nods of welcome. Steve was the first to introduce himself, offering her his classic, friendly smile. “I’m Steve, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Kate returned his smile warmly. “Nice to meet you too, Steve! Bucky’s mentioned you a few times.”

Sam leaned over, reaching across the table with a charming grin. “Sam Wilson, the one and only. I hope he’s been saying good things.”

“Only the best,” Kate replied with a laugh.

Natasha and Wanda both introduced themselves with friendly, if mildly guarded, smiles. Natasha spoke first, her voice cool but welcoming. “Natasha…Pleasure.”

“And I’m Wanda,” Wanda added, giving a soft wave. “Welcome to our spot.”

When it came your turn, you extended a hand with a polite smile, ignoring the uncomfortable flutter in your chest. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Kate’s eyes brightened in recognition. “Oh, you’re the one Bucky’s always talking about! I honestly thought you two were… you know.” She laughed lightly. “But I’m glad you’re not—no offense! It’s just… he’s lucky to have such a close friend.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks but brushed it off with a laugh. “Yeah, just friends.” You glanced at Bucky, who gave you a reassuring nod.

“Best friends,” he said, smiling.

After introductions, the conversation moved into friendly small talk, everyone asking Kate about her life. Wanda leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “So, Kate, what do you do for work?”

“Oh, I’m a graphic designer,” Kate replied. “Mostly freelance, so I get to work from home or whatever coffee shop has the best Wi-Fi. I’ve always loved art, and it’s amazing to make a career out of it.”

Everyone nodded, and Sam let out an impressed whistle. “Freelance? Respect. I’m with the VA, so not much room for coffee-shop flexibility, but I like it.”

“You work with veterans?” Kate asked, her eyes lighting up. “That’s amazing. Bucky actually mentioned you might be ex-military too?”

Sam nodded, his grin softening. “Yeah, I served briefly, college dropout life. Helping other vets find their way now is probably one of the best things I could be doing.”

Kate looked genuinely impressed, nodding before she turned to Natasha. “What about you?”

Natasha smirked, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I work in security consulting. It sounds fancier than it is, but basically, I keep people out of trouble.” She gave a small, mysterious smile, and Sam rolled his eyes.

Wanda chimed in, “And I’m an assistant at a research lab.” She shrugged with a humble smile. “Nothing as thrilling as security consulting, but it’s… fulfilling.”

Kate chuckled. “You all have such interesting jobs! What about you, Steve?”

Steve shifted, looking a bit bashful as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m a trainer at a gym. Teach some classes, personal training sessions… mostly just try to keep people healthy.”

Kate gave him a kind smile. “That sounds amazing. Keeping people motivated is no easy feat.”

When her eyes met yours, you shrugged with a soft smile. “I’m in publishing, so editing, going through manuscripts… mainly helping authors get their work ready to be out in the world.”

“That’s so cool!” Kate’s enthusiasm felt genuine, which softened the tension in your chest. “So, do you all live nearby?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said, laughing. “We’re all practically neighbors. Steve and I are right down the street from Y/N and Bucky.”

Natasha nodded. “And Wanda and I are a block over. We’ve all pretty much lived around here forever.”

Kate’s smile widened. “That’s amazing! I love how close-knit you guys are. So, how did you all meet?”

“We all met through school at some point,” Steve said, pointing around the table “I met Y/N and Buck in what? Grade 7?”

Bucky nodded “You wouldn't believe how tiny this kid was, and now look at him”

Steve rolled his eyes tossing a peanut shell at Bucky before continuing “Bucky and y/n were kind enough to let me in there little duo, then we met Nat in grade 9”

“And Sam and I came along a bit later,” Wanda added, laughing “We met in them college, I was Tasha’s and Y/N roommate”

“And i was these two losers roomate” Sam added, shoving Steve

Bucky, grinning, leaned in as he squeezed Kate’s hand. “Y/N and I have been friends since we were kids, though we met first day of school. Same hometown, neighbours and everything.”

Kate’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “So you’ve been stuck with him that long?”

“Pretty much,” you replied with a smirk, though the words felt heavier than they sounded “It’s hard to get rid of him.”

Bucky laughed, but when you glanced across the table, you noticed the look in his eyes as he turned to Kate. That easy affection, the soft admiration… it wasn’t something you saw often, and it hit you harder than you expected.

“So, does everyone hang out like this all the time?” Kate asked, clearly enjoying the warmth and camaraderie of the group.

Steve chuckled. “Pretty much, Fridays are kind of our thing. Same booth, same round of drinks, same bartender.”

Sam raised his glass. “It’s tradition”

Everyone raised their glasses, and as the night continued, the small, unspoken bonds between all of you filled the air. Kate fit in easily, and her laughter and warmth seemed to lift everyone’s spirits. And even though your heart felt heavier than ever, you held your smile, trying to enjoy the night while it lasted.

The hollow ache in your chest grew as you felt Steve shift beside you, pressing you closer to the edge as he glanced your way, clearly picking up on the tension.

You waved the bartender over, eager to have something to distract you. Sam raised an eyebrow as you ordered your drink, leaning over to tease, “Rough week?”

You laughed, the sound not quite reaching your eyes. “You have no idea.”

Kaye smiled at you “I’ve always admired people who can work with words like that, like you do. It’s so important to connect authors with the right people. I can see how it could be overwhelming" She tried to sympathize with you.

Her kindness made it all feel worse. She was everything you weren’t—bubbly, confident, radiating warmth. And you saw it, clear as day, in the way Bucky looked at her, a soft glow in his eyes that he’d never once turned on you.

Your drink arrived, and you swirled it absently, letting the happy chatter and laughter of your friends wash over you, though the aching in your stomach only grew. You felt Natasha’s gaze on you, sharp and discerning, before she suddenly blurted out, “So, I’m setting y/n up with someone from work, they’re date is next Saturday!”

The entire table went quiet for a moment, everyone turning to you, and you blinked, the words snapping you out of your fog “Wait, what? I didn't know you picked a day?”

Natasha shrugged a smirk on her lips “Slipped my mind i guess? y’know how i get sometimes”

Wanda laughed shoving Natasha’s shoulder “Yeah spacey”

Bucky’s hand slipped on his glass, and he choked a little on his drink, coughing as Kate rubbed his back. Steve chuckled beside you, giving your shoulder a playful shove. “About time! Who’s the lucky dude?”

Natasha smirked, wiggling her eyebrows “Dean”

Sam leaned back, grinning. “Honestly, I don’t even remember the last time you went on a date.”

“Oh, it was with Sam, wasn’t it?” Wanda teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I remember he tried to win you over in college.”

Sam rolled his eyes, laughing. “Yeah, i pulled out all my woo’s and nothing, you broke my heart”

Kate pointed between Sam and you “You two dated?”

Steve laughed “No, Sam tried before we initiated him in the group, our sweet girl right here” Steve’s arm went around your shoulder “Is too polite they went on one date and well the rest is history”

Sam lifted his drink in the air like he was going to do a toast “The one that got away” He laughed taking a drink

You laughed, trying to play it off, but your heart was pounding. “Well, I think it’s about time I put myself out there.”

Bucky’s gaze was on you, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the words that came out were harsh, laced with an edge you hadn’t expected or have ever been on the recipient end of “Right, because you’re such a hopeless romantic. Like you’d even know how to handle a real date.”

The table fell silent. You looked at him, his face still set in that playful mask, but the hurt flared bright and sharp in your chest. His words felt like a slap, twisting the knife that had already been lodged there since Kate walked in.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile that wobbled. “Excuse me,” you mumbled, sliding out of the booth as quickly as you could, heading toward the bathroom.

The moment you were out of sight, your breath hitched, and you pressed your hands to the cool porcelain sink, trying to steady yourself. You’d spent so long waiting, holding onto hope that he might see you the way you saw him. But tonight, as you watched him sit beside her, watched his eyes light up just at the sight of her… you realized it was time to let that hope go.

But knowing it and feeling it were two different things, and as the tears pricked the corners of your eyes, you wondered if you’d ever be able to truly get over the boy who had your heart, even when he didn’t know it.

[amourtoken]

need to get an angel wings tramp stamp from tattoo artist quinn STAT

(this isn't spicy rlly bc I just ended up diving into details abt tattooer Quinn but there can always be a pt 2 👀)

Firstly let me just say the VIBE and ATMOSPHERE Quinn creates in his space is immaculate. It's comforting in the way home feels after a long ass day and he didn't consciously choose to make his station like this but it just kinda happened. He likes what he likes. He spends so much fucking time here anyway it might as well be home.

Honestly he's relatively quiet, much more than everyone else he works with unless he's dealing with some kind of altercation (which thankfully is rare, although he has no problem putting ppl in their place to keep his shop drama free). He sticks to the conversational basics at first, only delving into small talk well after he's got you in his chair. Even then, he's typically so focused he keeps to himself. Years of working all day with the noise of his machine blasting may have also had an effect on his hearing so background noises tend to be filtered out into the collective sound anyway.

Quinn drew up a few different designs for you after you'd had your consult, all of them the same concept but varying details. It almost feels like he's showing off his skill, every piece looks like it could be drawn up by a completely different artist. You end up settling on a colorful set of wings reminiscent of a watercolor painting which is honestly a bit out of his comfort zone but he's well past the era of being anxious to start a piece, he can handle anything you throw at him.

Quinn has you standing in front of him to place your stencil and you catch glimpses of him in the floor length mirror he's set up in the corner of his room. He's focused, marking out lines to be sure it's perfectly even and placed to go with the flow of your body. It's endearing how his eyebrows knit together when he's working, gloved hands sliding over your hips mindlessly to get some different angled views just to be certain everything looks right. Honestly working with stencils is a bit rare for him, he prefers to draw his custom pieces straight into the skin but if he's got a busy day ahead he'll cave and print a few out.

Quinn has you laid on your stomach, his chair fully reclined for you. Once he actually starts working on you, you're surprised how gentle he is. Maybe it's just a bias but you're used to men being heavy handed when they tattoo, not him though, you could fall asleep like this. He's leaned over you, both hands settled on your lower back while he inks out the stencil and normally you'd be scrolling your phone to pass the time but you're still watching him through the mirror that happens to catch the perfect angle of the two of you.

He almost looks angry when he's focused but you know he's not. The only genuinely unpleasant noises or expressions you get from him are when he pauses to sit up straight, stretching his back out and wincing before returning to his position (very similar to a shrimp lol). Like his hearing, turns out spending years in this type of work can lead to some back problems since you're always bent over for hours on end. He manages it pretty well most days but he can't ignore the damn near constant ache that's manifested in his spine, he's more than happy to offer up breaks to his clients just so he has time to stretch and throw back a couple ibuprofen.

You're almost surprised to hear him speak after being quiet for so long but you're almost finished up, he's apologizing in advance for the white highlights coming up that he knows aren't gonna feel pleasant (thankfully he's a bactine truther and sprays that shit like water so your suffering is limited). It's all worth it in the end of course, looking at the beautiful piece on your lower back through the mirror has you smiling so hard it almost hurts. He did amazing, even the smallest details preserved just how you'd imagined. Quinn snaps a few pictures for his portfolio before rattling off about aftercare to you, writing you some notes in his unique handwriting you can't help but admire long after you've left.

Everything about him is worth admiring to be real, you'll absolutely be back to see him again soon.

[grunklejam]

New to Studio Bad Egg!

6" Summer Never Ends pin

6” 3D mega-pin with glow-in-the-dark effect 

There are some summers we may never forget - and the Summer of 2012 might well be the most memorable of all. This utterly gigantic mega-pin is very much our celebration of everything Gravity Falls. A grand total of 23 iconic characters, all coming together for a gentle evening by a campfire - but is it all as it seems?

This gigantic half-foot pin is the largest pin we’ve EVER made, and boasts one of the most complicated pieces of artwork we’ve ever received from the incredible Kyri45. The polaroid-style photograph also sits nestled within a bronze frame, peppered in Bill Cipher’s devilish influence… 

We’ve packed this incredible collectable with characters from the main cast and beyond, ranging from Tyler Cutebiker to Abuelita, and we’re super excited to see them brought to life. If we sell over 500 of this gigantic fandom monolith, we’ll even include a special display stand!

6” hard enamel pin starring a grand total of 23 characters

Double layered with Bill Cipher bronze frame

Glow in the dark detailing

Magnetic mount 

Exclusive presentation box 

Limited edition of 1,000 units 

Concept by Studio Bad Egg

Consulted on by Grunkle Jam

Designed by Kyri45

But we have The Owl House and Amphibia too...

Our gigantic stained glass pins are dedicated to celebrating some of our most-prized characters and moments from the universes we love so much - each with fully detailed artwork, traditional art elements and a focus on really capturing the magic - and sometimes malevolence - of the shows and scenes that raise us.

$73 each

4” hard enamel pins

Full colour design with translucent stained glass-effect elements

Rubber clutch

Limited edition of 1,000 units

Concept by Studio Bad Egg

Designed by Kyri45   

4" Never Forgotten Pin

4” The Owl House stained glass-effect pin with polished brass plating

"Thank you for finding me."

New friends don’t mean that old ones are forgotten. This giant 4” stained glass-effect pin explores the unending relationship between long-suffering grimwalker and his beloved palisman, with a touching heraldic design based upon traditional stained glass windows. We think this is one of the sweetest tributes we’ve ever done!

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4" Together Forever Pin

4” Gravity Falls stained glass-effect pin with polished nickel plating

“You and me can be together…FOREVER!”

.GIFfany is coming for you. And she knows what you guys are like - most of you won’t reject her! This giant 4” stained glass-effect pin features an elaborate Giffany design, complete with Kanji and the pixelated possessive herself.

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4" Peace in the Phutthawat pin

4” Amphibia stained glass-effect pin with polished gold plating

“It is sort of neat to see all three of them connecting to Thai culture like this..”

Amphibia has many beautiful moments - but considering Studio Bad Egg is a Thai-owned company, one of our most precious episodes is Temple Frogs. Thai rep is such a rare thing to see on TV, so to see it from one of our favourite shows? Pure gold. We knew the moment we got to work on the Anniversary collection, this was what we wanted to capture. 

You want triangles...?

2.25" Message from Theraprism Pin

$27.00

2.25” Bill Cipher Ouija board slider pin with polished nickel plating 

“I'm perfectly fine…”

While Bill’s last attempt at Multiversal Madness was an absolute disaster, thanks to the heroes of the BYEEE campaign, you can’t keep a good triangle down. Or a really, really bad one. Bill Cipher is reaching out for you - will you reply? 

Based upon the traditional Ouija board, this 4” pin features a sliding planchette that allows you to communicate with the three-sided horror as you go about your day to day. It’s like Whatsapp, but for some triangular loser who’s stuck in an interdimensional CBT centre. 

2.25” hard enamel pin with a sliding planchette 

Rubber clutch

Limited edition of 1,000 units

Concept by Studio Bad Egg

Designed by Kyri45

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2.25" Mystery Snacks Pin

$25.00

2.25” Bill Cipher pin with polished nickel plating 

Based upon one of our toy designs that never was, this terrifying Bill pin features everybody’s favourite reality-warping demon taking a big ol’ bite out of our childhoods. Evil! Evil triangle! 

This enamel pin comes in at a generous 2.25”, with a detailed design and a frankly maddening number of teeth. 

2.25” hard enamel pin 

Rubber clutch

Limited edition of 1,000 units

Concept by Studio Bad Egg

Designed by Kyri45

We also have a TON of returning Owl House designs and some old Gravity Falls pieces taken from the archive!

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | midoriya izuku, part two

Midoriya's route of soulmate trope. Part one here. “this doesn’t match the manga’s canonical ending!” correct. and isn’t that sexy? please read this route last, as it contains spoilers for all other routes. warnings: female reader. manga spoilers up to 411ish. angst. sexual content. moderate injury (not reader). indulgently meta on behalf of the author. a note: some meta elements in this route may lead you to think it’s the true route for this fic. not necessarily. the true route is whichever one is your favourite :) ~57k overall. ~17.5k for part two.

Life got better afterwards. Infinitely better to focus on the part of your life that sings rather than what you lack. You weren’t over it, of course, but you were growing. Choosing Izuku made little joys shine.

You finished jigsaw puzzles in the kitchen together. You went with him to the farmers’ market to get his brie. You sent him memes during long work days. On a late night, you caught him while he was sitting on a street lamp’s overhang to deliver a bento.

He’s beautiful. Izuku’s beautiful. When he’s playing as a paladin in DND in Tenko’s room, when he’s across the room at a press conference and you nearly walk into someone because you’re watching him, when you slide a cup of double-sweet tea across the kitchen table and he blinks blearily up at you with a throaty, “Yeah, baby?” Not beautiful just in his body, of course, but because his personality’s written all over his face, and who he is shines; he beams and shimmers, and you’ve discovered you need to see it.

Sunlight, after all, keeps you alive.

You still haven’t kissed him yet. The timing hasn’t felt right.

The closest you’ve come to it was when you were helping him transport snacks for his employees from his car inside his agency, and halfway up the ramp, he stopped pushing his cart. Ensuring your cart wouldn’t roll away, you doubled back to Izuku, muttering under his breath and pinching his lower lip.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, gracious,” he said, breaking from his stream of thought and gripping the cart’s handle again, “I was just thinking. The cobblestone façade for the building entrance is terrible design. It’s difficult for the wheels on the carts to roll up smoothly, so it’s got to be infinitely worse for wheelchair users and others who use wheels to get around. This needs to be smooth concrete to be more accessible. It’s strange,” he said, pushing the cart again, more slowly this time, to watch how the wheels engaged with the cobblestone façade, “I’m disappointed in myself for needing to live with a temporarily disabled body in our dream reality and a couple of snack carts to realise this.” He paused when you reached your cart, waiting for you before entering the building. “I think I should spend time thinking about how to make this agency more accessible. Consult some experts. At the very least, I should commission Cementoss to smooth out the front.”

As Izuku held the door to the elevator for you, you were overwhelmed with the realisation that the only reason this man wasn’t helping more people was that he literally did not know in what capacity he could be helping. So long as he was learning, so long as he was gathering information about new people and the ways they lived, he was going to put the information and his authority to use to make others’ lives easier. This was…an infuriatingly, aggravatingly, desperately needed, good man. And so shines a good deed in a weary world.

And you would’ve kissed him for it, but you couldn’t reach him across the elevator with two carts in between.

***

You were on set the day that Izuku filmed for the pilot of Uraraka’s miniseries, Ad Astra Per Aspera. You garnered that it was a space adventure-comedy sort of thing, and the first episode was supposed to be a subversion of expectations: Izuku’s character is set up to be the main character, playing into genre and gender expectations, but halfway through the episode, he dies so that Uraraka’s character can take over as the lead. It worked on several levels: one, reminding audiences that even in real life, Uraraka didn’t need anyone, particularly Izuku, to be capable, and two, ensuring Izuku would only need a one-episode contract.

Right now, they were filming an ensemble scene in a seedy, space bar, with the initial band of characters getting to know each other through all interrogating this one suspect simultaneously. For most of the scene, they had Izuku straddling a chair backwards, his character’s army insignia sash tied snugly around his waist to emphasise it, arms resting on the back of the chair while he looked down at the suspect with disdain.

At first, the script had had Izuku’s roguish, pseudo-Han Solo character smoking, but that morning, you’d walked into a conversation between the screenwriter and the director about how showing the number-one hero smoking might have negative effects on really young kids. Thus they changed it to Izuku sexily eating fruit, but even that had its problems: surely the same kind of fruit that grows on Earth wouldn’t be available in this shitty bar in a different galaxy entirely?

So, they had you peeling kiwis for each take, and without its characteristic brown skin, kiwis could pass as some sort of space fruit. You felt a little silly, with all the peelings piling up in your lap, but now you supposed you could put production assistant on your résumé.

“They have him biting into like an apple,” you said to Monoma, also involved in the production for his clothing collaboration with Uraraka to promote the series, “Why are they having him eat it like that? That can’t be any good.”

Monoma licked his finger and flicked the page of his magazine, crossing his ankle to rest on his opposite knee. “Defamiliarises the fruit from the audience because we’re not seeing it eaten in a typical way. Next question.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, jabbing your kiwi-peeling knife his direction, “It’s going to ruin the scene if he bites down into the ring of seeds. That’s very recognisable.”

Raising a brow, Monoma looked up from his magazine. “Surely you’re accustomed to telling Midoriya how hard to bite down by now.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and returned the knife to your lap, and you pulled your jacket more closely around you instead of answering, scanning the ceiling for what vent was the source of the cold.

“Oh, are you not prepared to be on a film set?” asked Monoma, indulgently settling into his puffy coat, “They keep the set cold so that the actors don’t overheat under the lights.” He closed his magazine and set it over the arm of his chair and strained for his messenger bag on the floor. “What’s up?”

“I’m not working the show—am I allowed to go to catering? My mouth is dry. Plus, there might be something better to peel,” you said, picking up your next kiwi, “I don’t really—hm.”

Your words caught in your throat, because across the room, Izuku was, in character, licking kiwi juice up the side of his arm, from mid-forearm to his palm. You didn’t realise Monoma was offering you a bottle of water and chapstick from his bag until he jostled you with it.

“Thank you,” you said, accepting it and unscrewing the lid, and after you’d drunk enough, you picked up the unopened chapstick, examining it. “Aren’t these supposed to be, I don’t know, less spherical?”

“I thought you’d appreciate that. It’s supposed to be one of the tie-in lip balms for the series. They’re doing flavours based on some of the characters.” Monoma pulled out a few more lip balms from his bag. “We’re still working on the packaging, so they’re not out yet. That one’s supposed to be Midoriya’s.”

“Explains why it’s green, then,” you said, popping off the spherical cap, “How original. Means they were thinking more of him and not the character he’s playing. Is it mint?”

“Matcha,” said Monoma, as you smeared some on your lips, feeling better almost instantly, in the dry cold of the set, “and lemon. Which wasn’t my first choice; originally I suggested matcha and vanilla, but what do I know. Do you like it?”

You nodded mid-drink from your water bottle.

“Does it taste like him?”

You choked, water going through your nose, nearly letting kiwis and peelings tumble from your lap while a grinning Monoma thumped your back. “Man, that wasn’t even clever. If you’re this easy to fluster,” he was saying, “I don’t even want to imagine how much fun Midoriya must have with you.”

“I need you to never open your mouth again,” you said, wiping your mouth with your sleeve, and you cleared your throat. “Now. I am invoking the no-judgments clause of our friendship.”

“What do you need?”

“I wanted your advice on video editing,” you said, pulling out your phone, “I’ve been putting together this, uh. Thing. And before I post it, I wanted you to check that it’s as good as it can be. It’ll be my first time posting in a fan community I’ve joined, and I want it to be good. Try not to make fun of me for it.”

Monoma only had to watch a few seconds of footage, the chorus of NCT’s “Baby, Don’t Stop” coming in softly through your phone’s speakers, before he looked back up at you in condescension. “This is a fancam for Midoriya’s nipples,” he said, frowning.

“See, I knew you’d make fun of me for it.” You scooted your chair closer to Monoma’s, and while you peeled kiwis, he critiqued your editing and helped you make it better. You were both so absorbed in the video that you didn’t notice that the film crew had taken a break until Izuku came up to talk.

“Hey,” he said with a wave, startling you and Monoma out of your skins (he hastily shoved your phone back to you before Izuku could see the screen). “What’s up?”

“Nothing much.” You held up your knife and latest kiwi. “Being on a film set is a bit different than I’d pictured, but it’s still neat to watch everyone work.”

“Ah,” said Izuku, mouth nearly a straight line as he took the peeled kiwi from you, “I started out the morning being quite fond of these. I’ll be content if I don’t see one for a while after this. Are you cold?” He nodded at how much you snuggled into your jacket. “I can go get my coat from the green room for you.”

“You’re not? It’s frigid in here.”

Izuku shook his head. “It’s the lights.”

“Yeah, Monoma mentioned something like that,” you said, glancing towards Monoma—and you could’ve sworn you caught Monoma staring at Izuku’s nipples through his shirt. “Is this your only costume, by the way?” You reached for your water again.

Midoriya smiled, teeth cutting into his lower lip. “More or less. I’m not wearing anything for my death scene.”

You stopped the bottle before it reached your mouth. “I’m sorry. What?” You cracked a grin. “Are you telling me you have a nude scene?”

“Nothing’s shown,” he said, smiling down at you, scooting out of the way of a crewman, and tossing the kiwi to himself.  “I don’t think I mind. Women have to be nude in movies a lot, so I’m fine with helping to balance it out. I’m told it’s supposed to be non-sexual nudity, anyway.”

You sat up in your seat, taking another drink before speaking. “How noble. What’d they say about it?”

“So, I was in costuming and makeup earlier because of an effects shot; it’s the last shot I’m in before I get killed. They were explaining that I have to be completely nude for it; it’s actually pivotal that the spaceship shard that kills me slices from here—” Izuku drew a line from his upper thigh to just below his nipple (Monoma’s eye twitched). “—to here, so I can’t be wearing anything. They want me levitating, horizontal to the ground, and I was describing to the costumer that the shot is actually really similar to this effects shot in an episode of Star Trek—Next Gen, season three, episode thirteen, ‘Deja Q,’ and I was asking the costumer and the head makeup artist if I should put some sort of makeup on my ass, because I only have freckles on the top curve of my asscheeks; the lower curve doesn’t exactly see the sun—but my character, with the UV light in his bedroom, where he gets killed—he’s getting proper sun on his full ass, but if makeup were to put fake freckles on my ass, it’d be extremely obvious that they’re fake, especially in contrast to the real ones. But we couldn’t get to a decision about it before call time, because we got so wrapped up in that none of the cock socks —because that’s what they’re called, apparently, those things that’re meant to protect your modesty—well. None of them fit. And I was just about to bring up that same episode of Star Trek, because John de Lancie had the same issue, but Uraraka came and got me so that we could start,” said Izuku, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dear God, you’re in love with him.

You’re in love with the biggest nerd on the planet, and something was deeply, deeply wrong with the universe, because you weren’t currently kissing him within an inch of his life.

“But I’m hoping we finish this scene soon, at least,” Izuku was saying, tongue rubbing the inside of his cheek, as if it weren’t a crime punishable by death that his mouth wasn’t on yours at the moment, “because my lips are all dry from how acidic the kiwis are; I may need to stop by makeup again to ask if they have any sort of moisturising sealant, or something.”

“I gave your girlfriend some lip balm earlier,” said Monoma, as quick on the uptake as you, zipping up his bag to hide the other flavours, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him for it.

“Yeah,” you said, mind blank except for you loved him you loved him you loved him, aggressively yanking off the chapstick’s cap and applying more to your own lips before you stood (kiwi peelings falling to the floor) and grabbed Izuku’s face to kiss him.

He floundered. Froze. Held his breath. Which, sure, at this point it was more of a smushing of faces rather than a kiss, but you heard the tiniest clearing of his throat before he kissed you back in earnest, and nothing else mattered; everything else was just white noise. It was as if you didn’t even have matcha or lemon or kiwi to consider but instead just Izuku, Izuku distilled, sunshine and warmth, and oh, his hand was gliding up the side of your neck, the span of his hand wider than that of your throat, to play with your earlobe, and he was opening his mouth, sucking your lower lip inward just slightly, and—and you had to break away to breathe, and you wished you didn’t have to.

Chest heaving, Izuku’s lips chased yours after the initial separation, and he settled for resting his forehead against yours. “To think that I was going to introduce you to Uraraka’s soulmate today, as a final nail in the coffin that I belong to you. Now,” he said with a heady rasp, nudging his nose against yours, “I’d think you know that already, and I’d rather smuggle you back home to have you all to myself.”

“You’ll have me later,” you said, giving him another short kiss and appreciating how dejected he looked when it didn’t last for more than a second. “How much time do we have? Why don’t you still introduce me to Spike? Is she here?”

Izuku took a deep breath before releasing you, and he nodded, taking your hand. “She’s over there with Uraraka. I wanted you to see how differently Uraraka treats me compared to Spike. It’s evident that’s she really in love now.”

“Lead the way,” you said, waving towards Monoma, who was determinedly reading his magazine.

Uraraka and Spike were in conversation with the director, and while the two of you waited to the side, you looked Spike over: tall and imposing with blue-black hair in a harsh bob, and huh, she’s really putting that scar around her neck on display, isn’t she? Looks like she’s been beheaded.

“Wait a minute,” you said, whispering to Izuku, “I know her.”

“True,” said Izuku, crossing his arms as he leant down to your height, “But I figured I should introduce you in this context.”

You shot him a look. “Wait, how would you know she’s a cashier I met in Alderside? Back when I was investigating your Jackrabbit stuff?”

“That’s what you were thinking of?” It was Izuku’s turn to look confused, and, laughing under his breath, he pulled you by the elbow away from everyone, until he was sure that no one would overhear. “Sweetheart, you know that Spike is just Toga Himiko transformed, right?”

“What?” you said so loudly that people looked over. Izuku rubbed his hands up and down your arms to quiet you, so you dropped your voice. “How would I know that? Where would I have gotten that information?”

“I thought I’d told you,” said Izuku, grinning and shaking his head, “Toga has been at a local rehab, Sakura Grove, and Uraraka had been visiting for a while before they found out they were soulmates. They, uh. Both have matching symbols on the underside of their tongues.”

“I’m assuming I shouldn’t ask how they found out.”

“Toga—sorry, we should say Spike since we’re in public—Spike still lives at Sakura Grove but has been given a lot of privileges for good behaviour for this long. One of her long-time handlers doesn’t leave campus much and has consented to let Spike use her appearance, within reason. And to be fair, they’ve mostly used the transformation to go on dates,” said Izuku, glancing over her shoulder at them, “It's good to see them both so happy.”

The director ended the break before you could speak to them, and, with a final kiss to Izuku’s cheek, you left the set, went home, crawled into Izuku’s bed for the first time, and tried not to fall asleep.

***

But you did fall asleep, inevitably, and you spent an annoyingly long time in the dream world listening to Tenko tell Granddaddy Slapkins that Touya loved him very much before Izuku’s body stirred in his bedroll.

You knelt at his side while he pushed himself upright. “What took you so long?”

“I apologise,” he said, rubbing his eye as he accepted the slice of toast you had ready for him, “It’s just that I finally had a particular woman in my bed, and I took a moment to admire how gorgeous she is when she sleeps.”

“You sap,” you said, and you held up a phial of the soulwalking potion. “We need to talk without eavesdroppers for a moment.”

You got to the spirit realm before Izuku did, since he had to finish his toast, and when his glowing, green-tinged soul materialised across from you in the campfire circle, you pounced on him, pushing him back down to lie on his mirrored bedroll, hands planted on either side of his head, and you kissed him, heat blossoming from his lips, the only source of warmth on this side of reality. You hummed into it and raised a hand to trace along his jaw, but Izuku gripped the hair at the nape of your neck and yanked your mouth off of his, holding you in place.

“I thought,” he said, eyes half-lidded, chest swelling underneath you, “that we were here to talk.”

“Oh, stop it. Like I could make out with you in front of our friends,” you said, leaning down towards him again, but Izuku tightened his grasp so that you couldn’t move more than an inch (at the pressure at the back of your neck, your eyes fluttered shut). “Oh? Have I done something wrong?”

Izuku raised his free hand, his index finger tracing along your cheekbone before tapping your lips. “Yes,” he said, dragging the syllable out, “You aren’t kissing me like you love me.”

“Tell me what to do, then.”

Izuku blinked slowly, eyes taking on a hint of the OFA glow. “All right.” He let his hand fall to the side. “I want you to stick your tongue in deeply, as if you’re desperate to keep me near. You need to tangle our tongues together,” said Izuku, tilting his head backward to expose the jut of his Adam’s apple, “and suck them towards you. If you can handle that, then we’ll graduate you to the next class.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding when he released your hair, but you weren’t going to give it to him immediately. You shifted your weight to one arm as you slated your lips against his, finger-combing through his hair with your other hand while your tongue swiped over his lower lip, replaced, after a moment, with teeth gently tugging. Izuku parted his lips and accepted your tongue into his mouth, lips moving with yours, while you slid your tongue against his, guiding them with the tip of your tongue towards your own mouth, and you gave a soft nip to his tongue that made him hiss.

“Now,” you said, panting, moving to sit upright, “Surely that was—”

Izuku jerked you down by your necklace to capture your lips again, pinning you against him and completely reversing the suggestion of who was in charge, and you daren’t pull away, lest the chain of your necklace break. Brow furrowed, Izuku groaned into the kiss as he shifted his hips underneath you, and, tongue feeling around the roof of your mouth, he raised a knee for you to straddle and guided your hip so firmly that you were forced to grind down on it.

He released your necklace, mouthed, “Sit back,” and moved your hand to steady yourself on his sturdy chest, clutching your hand to his pec before joining his other hand on your hips to make you rock them. After a moment, a hand trailed upwards towards your shirt, trying to get underneath it, but once he realised he’d have to undo layers of medieval clothing, Izuku huffed and simply pressed his wide palm down hard against your lower stomach, staring you down while you ground against his thigh, quick snaps of OFA lightning sparking around his forearms as you went a bit glassy-eyed and flushed, despite the layers of fabric between you.

Izuku drew you down again, shivering in the moment your lips connected with his, kissing you hard for a final, few seconds before pulling away. “Good Lord,” he said, and perhaps it’s because you’ve been kissing, but his voice sounded sweeter. “I have never kissed you before today. I haven’t seen you, completely bare, before today. Yet I’ve never so thoroughly devoted my heart to anyone besides you. I know I’ve never felt this close with anyone.”

“And you have eight people larking about inside you,” you said, tucking a loose curl behind his ear.

“And I have eight people larking about inside me,” said Izuku, nodding, “I don’t know how I’ve lived without you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but today’s been—yeah. I felt like I could say it today.”

“You don’t have to say it, exactly. It’s been…subtext.” You tapped your fingers in a ripple on his pec. “But I appreciate it very much.” You dragged your fingers down his chest, catching fabric, but before you could reach the ties of his trousers, Izuku caught your hand, flattening it against his abdomen.

“No,” he said, smiling, “Not yet. The first time you have me, I want us to be in our reality, in our own bodies. As real and true as it can be.”

“That’s fine. Have anything special in mind?”

“Yes, actually. All according to my ludicrously evil plan. Actually, I—” Izuku frowned and sat upright, helping you off of him. “Actually, we need to get out of the spirit realm first. I think I’ve put together the pieces for how we can make Shinsou a frappe, and I want to see if it works.”

You clicked your tongue. “Izuku, why the fuck are you thinking about that? You literally have a boner right now.”

“That’s not—ignore it,” said Izuku, bending his leg to conceal it from you, “But if we’re going to make lo—have sex in the real world, then we should get other stuff done while we’re here. I’m thinking that we can achieve the frappe taste from your tea ceremony, and we might be able to get the texture and temperature through experimentation with Todoroki’s ice magic—”

“You are bonkers,” you said, leaning back on your hands, “and I don’t wanna have to witness that conversation. I…you go back first. I’m going to chill here for a bit; I need to collect my thoughts about what I want to plan for when we sleep together. I won’t even be able to hear my own thoughts if everyone’s blabbering at once. Now, get.”

Izuku waved goodbye, fading into the grey as he climbed back into his body, and gosh, it really was so much colder without him here. Well, if you transformed back into a cat, you’d be a bit warmer…And then, surely it wouldn’t hurt if you curled up in a ball while you daydreamed…tucked your little head underneath the tip of your tail…started to plan about what you wanted to be wearing, what you wanted the bedroom to look like, but you didn’t get very far…

***

You blinked awake to Izuku’s defined bicep in your face, his bedsheet pulled up to your chin, and you breathed in the scent of his laundry detergent deeply.

“Oh!” Izuku removed his reading glass to set them and his book on his bedside table, and he flipped onto his side to look at you, one hand cradling your cheek. “Are you all right? Does anything feel strange?”

“Uh.” You assessed your body for, like, anything bleeding out. “No. Situation normal.”

“Good.” Izuku let out a breath, shoulders losing their tension. “I was worried, but I figured it’d be good to have someone monitor you in the real world in addition to our dream world. They’re still—”

“Hold up,” you said, starting to feel more awake, “What happened?”

Izuku sat up, blankets pooling around his waist, and you followed. “After I went back to the group, everything seemed fine for about half an hour, but then your—well, you know how our bodies seem like they’re sleeping when we’re soulwalking, and that’s all. But, uh.” He held up his hands, as if he were holding a basketball, and then dropped them. “Your body—you know All Might’s soul crystal? You—when we eventually get back to his body to return it, he’s—he looks like this stone dragon, with a spot for the soul crystal to fit. You shifted into something similar, I think. You turned into Dango, not fully cat-sized, y’know, but very—small, statue-ish. A cat curled up in a ball. I could’ve fit you in my pocket. Your soul crystal was visible, but there was no way to remove it. And we were, of course, concerned,” said Izuku, grabbing you by the shoulders, “So I’m immensely relieved to see you like this. What did you do?”

“Dude, don’t look at me. I didn’t do anything; I can’t remember. I was—” You caught yourself and grinned. “Izuku. I don’t remember anything, because I was asleep.”

Izuku tilted his head. “What?”

“I fell asleep in the spirit realm, and I think that’s why—” You broke off to laugh. “Izuku, I got a good night’s sleep for the first time in almost a year. I wasn’t awake here or in our dream world. My consciousness got to rest.”

Izuku’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he hunched over on himself to mutter furiously under his breath, pinching his bottom lip. You reached over him to grab his phone off the bedside table, checking the time and if anyone needed him this early in the morning.

When you glanced over at him, he was still going at it, so you thumped his chest. “Hey. Don’t think about it too hard. I’d given up on trying to achieve dreamless sleep a while ago, because I—like seeing you all the time. So, don’t stress about if we can recreate it. Your brain is always going a thousand miles a minute. You can relax, y’know.”

“Well, perhaps I’d need to rest in the spirit realm, then,” said Izuku, sliding out of bed and pressing his hands to his lower back as he stretched. “By the way,” he said, coming out of a groan, “I wanted to share the most pertinent piece of information regarding our Sex Plan.”

“Don’t call it—whatever, Izuku. Go ahead,” you said, scratching your forehead.

“Two weeks from now—”

“You’re gonna make me wait two weeks?”

“Hey, no, listen,” he said, grinning, holding his hands up in defence, “There’s an emotionally resonant anniversary in two weeks, and besides, look who’s saying that. The woman who’s been stringing me along for almost a year.”

You threw your hands above your head. “I didn’t know it was you for a good part of that! I didn’t know you were real,” you said, tongue in your cheek as you smiled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, “Okay, gorgeous. Lay it on me.”

Izuku bit his lip, rubbing it with his index finger before replying. “One. In two weeks, there’s a fundraiser we’re slated to attend. It’s hosted by the one we were at together three—well, four years ago. It’s grander in scale now, since the charity’s grown, but I think we can have a similarly adequate time. Two,” he said, raising another finger, “Since it’s more grandiose, our friends will be there. If you’ll allow me to be selfish, I’d like to take this opportunity to brag about our immense happiness.”

You laughed and covered your mouth. “Not even considering proving it to the press, since we haven’t made a public statement about our relationship in ages? Just our friends?”

“I admit that competition is a contributing factor,” said Izuku, taking his phone from you to return it to his bedside table, “but it’s not everything. I’m simply tired of suppressing my love for you, in public or otherwise.” He took both of your hands in his, and he knelt before you, parting your legs to get closer, to share your body heat. “Three,” said Izuku, much more seriously, “I think we should get married.”

You blinked. Okay. Not what you were expecting. “Right.” Your grip slackened, but his didn’t, keeping your fingers laced together. “To quell your fears before we have this conversation, my answer’s yes. Yes, I do wanna get married. I think it’d be wonderful. But.” You managed to free a hand from his grasp to cup his cheek. “Aren’t you concerned that I’m only just started showing you affection? That I’ve only recently opened my heart to you? Anyone else would’ve fallen for you immediately; of fucking course they would, once they saw how you shine,” you were saying, determinedly looking away from him, “but I’ve got all of these—strangely metaphysical hangups about whom I’m permitted to love, and I’m only just now starting to really get over them, and I can’t guarantee that they’ll ever really go away, so what if I can’t ever show you more love than I have recently—”

“Ohhh, my dear girl,” said Izuku, and he tapped a finger under your chin to get you to look at him, but you wouldn’t look away from the ceiling. “If we have to kiss to show we’re in love, then we’re not in love.” He tapped your chin again, and this time you met his eyes. “And we are. Haven’t you noticed? You��ve been showing me affection for so long. You’ve been proving your love to me in thousands of tiny choices you make every day, thinking of me with good intentions. Kissing is just another way of showing it. I’ve known you’ve loved me for some time now, even though you’ve been reluctant to admit it to yourself.”

You opened your mouth, scrunched your brow, and closed it. Because when you thought back, oh, he’s right; you’ve been living and working together for so long now, learning more and more about each other, both eager to dig into the minutiae of each other’s characters. He’s become a part of who you are, without trying much at all, and you haven’t noticed until he put the words in your mouth, and the feeling fucking flooded you, making your chest feel stretched like a balloon and pin-pricked in the same moment.

Because you don’t think about loving the sun. It’s just something you do. It comes built into your soul. You don’t have to announce it.

“Huh,” you said, really intelligently, “Cool. Then, yeah. Let’s get married.”

“Sweet,” said Izuku, standing and going to riffle through a dresser drawer, “I have the forms already; I hope you’ll forgive that I don’t have rings yet, because I figured you’d like to choose. I wanted to submit the soulmate quirk incident form as a marriage registration, but I didn’t know if you wanted to commit back then, so I’ve waited until—and if we can get the registration forms in by the end of the day, we’ll be in their system by Wednesday…”

You sat back on your hands, sinking into the mattress, and, feeling like you were in a dream, you listened to your soulmate ramble.

***

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

Wish you were here

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

The DJ keeps running tests of songs I thought I left behind in middle school

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

They got the Crawler as keynote speaker. Do you think he’ll sign something if I ask?

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I’ve never seen this many chairs in my life

You were smiling at your phone as you walked through the doors of your hero agency, sweaty and sore from patrol. Izuku had to be dragged away from his agency around noon; the Foundation wanted him at the fundraising site early for setup, something about adjusting the heritage building for modern security. You waved to the front desk workers and stepped into the elevator, smushing the button for the ninth floor. More texts pinged before you could type a reply to the previous one.

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

THEY’RE TELLING ME I NEED TO MAKE A SPEECH

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I WAS PLANNING ON DRINKING

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I’VE BEEN WATCHING THEM SET UP THE OPEN BAR! AND YEARNING!!!!!!

YOU

lololol did someone else drop out of giving a speech

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

YES

YOU

okay lol. listen i just got back from patrol and am omw to my office. give me a minute to cool down, and then we can brainstorm what you can say

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

Wait, have you been away from your agency for more than six hours?

YOU

…yes? ito and i got lunch while we were downtown

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

You should have something waiting for you.

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I asked them to put it in your office instead of the mailroom.

YOU

???

You sent the last while rounding the corner to your office, and you opened the door on a white garment bag hanging from your coatrack, the silhouette of the dress backlit by the late afternoon sun behind it.

Oh, this idiot.

You stopped at your desk, tearing off your support gear and dropping it unceremoniously next to a flat box, also from Izuku, at which you raised an eyebrow. But first, you grabbed a water bottle from your minifridge, chugged the whole thing, and wiped off sweat with a towel you kept behind your desk.

You began to undress, unfastening the front of your hero costume to let the A/C hit your skin, and you unzipped the garment bag, laughing through your nose at the dress: gorgeous, of course, but just a bit too slinky for your tastes and made out a material that wouldn’t be comfortable for all the hours you had to spend at this fundraiser. He must’ve been thinking with his dick.

So, you turned to the flat box on your desk, and you unfolded the tissue paper hiding a fuckin’ lingerie set, intricately lacy and deadly verdant. Izuku, you absolute nerd. Don’t you know that you can’t wear something with this heavy a design under something so blatantly silky as that dress? The lines will show. Plus—now that you were looking at the dress again—the straps on the bra were thicker than the straps on the dress, so you absolutely were not going to wear them together.

“Looks like he wanted something easy to take off,” came Ito’s voice from your doorway.

Grinning, you waved her in as you bent to retrieve another water bottle from your fridge. “Tell me about it. That dress screams easy access.”

“Like a horny couple at prom.” Ito caught the bottle you tossed to her, and she sat on your desk, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s lovely,” she said, shrugging one shoulder.

“It’s not exactly black tie,” you said after a long gulp, “It’s more of a sexy, expensive loungewear sort of deal. I don’t think I could wear that in public without everyone seeing everything that’s going on with me.” You gestured down your front. “I’m not gonna wear it.”

Ito rushed to swallow and wiped the back of her mouth. “Why not?”

“Think about it. What kind of idiot would I be if I hadn’t prepared an outfit for tonight? It’s not like the fundraiser is a surprise,” you said, pulling off the top of your hero costume, leaving you in your undershirt, “I’ve got something already. Izuku is damn lucky, though, because I’ll be able to wear that—” You nodded towards the lingerie. “—under the dress I have planned. Are you coming?”

Ito blinked. “Not at the moment.”

“I meant to the fundraiser.”

“Yeah, actually,” she said, twirling a strand of thick, white hair around her finger, “One of your friends invited me as arm candy. Said there was something I’ll want to see.”

***

Your PR advised you to arrive around 45 minutes late to avoid the initial buzz outside of the venue (some turn-of-the-century architect’s manor house before she died), but since that’d be 45 minutes of Izuku searching for you, you sneaked in through a staff entrance. You managed to locate your assigned table (thankfully in a corner, unfortunately near the front), where you hid your clutch in the pocket underneath your chair’s floral cover and listened to the musicians tune their instruments.

Where’s Izuku? They can’t need him every minute. You scanned the ballroom for his face among the early attendees, but he wasn’t to be found; some of your graduating class was already trickling in, and so, Asui, Hagakure, Ojiro, and Iida stopped by your table for a while.

“We’re over there with Yaoyo and Jiro, ribbit,” said Asui, pointing towards a far table, “I’m glad! Yaoyorozu has been to black tie events more than I have, so she can tell us if we mess up.”

“Come off of it, Tsu; we’ve been to black tie stuff before,” you said, smiling up at her from your seat, “It gets easier.”

Asui stuck out the tip of her tongue. “Forgive my cliché, but I always feel like a frog out of water no matter how many I attend.”

“Worry not!” Iida gestured stiffly. “If you’ll recall, I also come from, as you put it, old money! I can assist you if Yaoyorozu is otherwise occupied. However, you needn’t concern yourself with—”

“Why have they put you near the front?” Hagakure crossed her arms, evident by her elbow-length gloves, and held her clutch underneath her armpit. “There aren’t any awards being given out tonight. It’s just dancing and that silent auction.”

“No, but Izuku’s giving a speech,” you said, “Probably for convenience.”

“Either way, sorry about that,” said Ojiro, placing a hand on Hagakure’s shoulder, “I know you’re not too comfortable with being in everyone’s line of sight.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine. Though I remember this being a much smaller event. Has it grown that much?” you asked, eyeing the main entrance nervously, with how many people swarmed inside, “It’s—shadowy over here. The lights aren’t on us. It’s fine.”

“Ooh, I think they’re opening the bar,” said Hagakure, playing with the pendant of her necklace, “Good luck, and all. See you later!”

Not having the fortitude to brave the crowds yet, you stayed at your table, yanking out your phone to shoot Izuku a text.

YOU

have arrived. where are you???

Hearing the ding of a phone behind you, you turned over your shoulder and beamed as your soulmate approached.

“Hey, Izuku,” you said, standing to hug him, and oh, as you slid your arms around his neck, you breathed in the scent of his cologne (something like cedar and maybe apple?)—and that, paired with the way that he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you very slightly as he held you to his chest, the tips of your toes grazing the tile—made you just about black out. “Where have you been?”

“Back of house,” said Izuku, smushing his cheek to yours, savouring it, “They keep trying to give me more work. Something about how I’m too competent. But I can’t exactly say tonight is supposed to be some sort of psychosexual foreplay for my soulmate and me, can I?”

Your eyebrows shot upwards. “Oh, we’re getting right into it? I was hoping to have about half an hour in which I wasn’t horribly aroused.”

He laughed near your ear, the air puffing away some of your hair. “Relax. We’re not doing anything drastic, you know. Now,” he said, grip loosening, “let me look at you.”

You dropped your arms, but he held onto your waist at arms’ length while he looked you over, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Gorgeous,” said Izuku, wetting his lips, “Absolutely gorgeous. But. I believe I—” He cut himself off, and he stepped closer to you, speaking under his breath and looking for all the world like he was commenting on nothing more than the weather. “Aren’t you such a bad girl? Not wearing the dress I set out for you.”

Saliva weighed heavily on your tongue. He’s being pedantic, and clearly you’ve arranged for your dress to match his midnight black tux, with its subtle bottle-green embroidery, but the flowiness of your dress’s fabric contrasts how snugly tailored to Izuku’s body his suit is, particularly his thighs and shoulders, outlining every curve his muscles have. It’s as if his suit’s from a high-end version of Best Jeanist’s Moulded to Your Ass line, except he still manages to be a bit dorky, with his tiny lapel pin that read Suit Jacket.

It was messing with your head how dashing he looked, and he just called you bad girl, which you, unfortunately, were not immune to. Clearing your throat, you rubbed at your eye and resolved that you had to slow things down quickly, lest you walk around with soaked underwear the whole night.

Worse, that’s what your brain decided to bring up next. “I’m wearing what you told me to underneath it. Thought that’d be more important.”

“Oh,” said Izuku, sounding hoarse and bringing a fist to his mouth (was that a flash of OFA lightning?), “I didn’t—”

“Deku-san, sir,” came a voice from behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, and—a Kazama? That was Kazama, or one of him, at least; Hero Commission personnel must be working the event—appeared. “You’re needed backstage.”

“Of course,” said Izuku, recovering in a single second and pulling down his suit jacket, and he leant in to kiss you on the cheek. “I’ll be back, love.”

You were alone hardly a minute before Monoma eased into the seat next to you. “Greetings and salutations,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm, as he held up a champagne flute in toast.

“You didn’t bring me one?”

Instead, he slid you a glass bottle of sparkling water that he’d been hiding behind his back. “I know you usually don’t drink at these things. Pity they don’t have pink lemonade.”

You unscrewed the cap, leaning back in your seat when he did. “Do they have regular lemonade?”

“Of course not. Since when do people care about the non-alcoholic drinking crowd?” Monoma shrugged, tilting his chair back on two legs. “The dress work out well?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, brushing down your front, “Thanks for getting it made on such short notice; it’s really—”

“It’s fascinating from a design standpoint, because there are purely no so-called dark elves to pull a look from, as you wanted, in Lord of the Rings,” said Monoma, clanking his chair forwards again to dramatically steeple his fingers together. “The Moriquendi elves, of course, come closest by definition, since they have never seen the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, but considering that category of elves splits into several subcategories that I don’t think truly fit the spirit of the design you requested—maybe the Falathrim—but regardless, I’m thinking it was the right idea for my design team and me to simply adjust the palette from our Vanyar line, even though it goes against the lore, and people usually cut me off by now; are you all right?”

Honestly, you were still processing bad girl and how it went straight to your cunt. But you swallowed the sparkling water you were holding in your mouth and shook your head. “I’m fine. I think I’m just a bit put off that it seems like Izuku’s going to be away from me for a good part of the night.”

“We’ll ensure you’re not lonely,” said Monoma, tracing the rim of his glass, “In the meantime, would you like me to distract you? I’ve been keeping an eye on your fancam since we posted it; it seems to be doing well.”

Monoma pulled out his phone to scroll through the comments with you, and it served as a delicious distraction as the ballroom grew packed and noisy.

[video description: a Deku fancam set to NCT’s “Baby, Don’t Stop.” Clips from social media, photo shoots, behind-the-scenes of Ad Astra Per Aspera, and interviews flash in time to the beat of the song’s bridge, focusing on Deku’s nipples, both when deliberately on display and when accidental.]

igneousbastard: everyone say thank you to the production crew for making the set cold af and putting deku in the thinnest shirt known to man 🫡

midori-world: he is literally slutting himself out. can he fucking chill. in unrelated news i’m going to bite my hand off

blueberrybakugou: mr. deku……….

chargenut: hello i am going to obliterate this man

sakuraraka: okay i’ll just say it, since no one else will: BARK BARK BARK WOOF BARK

kirishimashairdye: shredding him with my teeth. putting him in my mouf like a fucken fuit Gummi

mmmmmidoriya: SUCKABLE.

dickuprint: @assortedsoftcheeses hey OP where did you get that clip at 0:33?? seems like it’s the kind of thing you’d find on some pro’s private account. kinda personal 👀 have i missed something?? who posted that????

momo-closet: been watching this on loop for a few minutes before realising my jaw was clenched hard enough to eat through my own enamel. Good work everyone let’s hit the showers

You and Monoma jolted out of your skins when Todoroki Touya slammed his plate on the table and yanked out a chair, legs scraping the tile, nodding your way as he straddled his chair. Tenko followed closely behind, a bottle in one hand and a Nintendo switch in the other.

“Are you playing a game?” Tenko gestured towards Monoma’s phone.

You laughed through your nose as Monoma stowed his phone away. “Not really. I see you didn’t leave home without one.”

Tenko scrunched up his face. “I had to bring something. No one outside of our DND group is going to want to talk to me without morbid curiosity, and you’ll be too busy to be at my side the whole time.”

“That’s why I’m his plus-one,” said Touya, holding up a crostini and waving with his free fingers.

“I was wondering how you were here, Touya,” you said, mouthing thanks to Shinsou as he set a plate of hors d'oeuvres in front of you and moved to sit in the seat to your left, “Tenko, I get, since he’s working with Aizawa-sensei in the underground hero scene, but—”

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?” Aizawa pulled out the chair next to Shinsou and eased into it, bracing himself on its back to make it easier on his prosthetic leg.

“You did. Shouta, I apologise,” you said (with Shinsou’s eyebrows flashing upwards), and you turned back to Touya. “You’re Tenko’s date?”

“Don’t say it like that,” said Tenko, scowling as Touya nodded eagerly, “Since he wouldn’t be able to come otherwise, and I’ve been told I can’t just latch onto you for the whole night…” He trailed off, and your eyes darted across the table to catch the cause: Aizawa, shaking his head ever so slightly, as he lifted one of the event’s pre-made cocktails to his mouth.

Weird. But okay, you’ll pretend like you didn’t see it. “So, what’re you playing?”

Everything went smoothly for a while, with Shinsou and Aizawa sharing hors d’oeuvres while Tenko explained the mechanics of his game, with scathing commentary from Touya and probing lore questions from Monoma, but then, two, innocuous things happened in quick succession that changed the mood of the evening entirely.

First, Aizawa got a text. “It’s from Haimawari Koichi—the Crawler, I mean. He says he’s about to go on. He can see us from backstage.” Made you think about Izuku, that he wanted his autograph and was probably talking to him right now.

At the same time, Todoroki and Bakugou showed up, since their table was next to yours, and Bakugou thumped you in the back of your head. “Looking pretty bored without us, sweetheart.”

“Wow,” you said, rubbing your head, grinning, and you spoke without thinking: “That’s everyone except Izuku.”

In the moment, it seemed like a perfectly normal thing to say. At Shinsou’s sharp inhale, Aizawa’s cautious glance towards the opposite side of the table, and Todoroki’s bracing your shoulders, it occurred to you that perhaps you said something odd, but then oh my god they would only react like that if they knew that you were their soulmate in another timeline how the fuck did they find out where’s Izuku you need to leave now—

“I think we should dance. There’s dancing,” said Shinsou, scanning your face for distress and grabbing your wrist as you pushed yourself up from the table in a rush, Todoroki still at your back.

The room’s too hot. The room is too hot, and it’s spinning.

The orchestra swelled as the lights dimmed. It must be time for the keynote speech.

“I really,” you said, swallowing with effort, sweat running down your neck and between your shoulder blades, “I need to go.”

Shinsou’s hand around your wrist. Todoroki’s hand on the small of your back. Bakugou grabbing your forearm, Monoma staring up at you from your side, Tenko and Touya peering across the table at you, the most compliant you’ve ever seen them.

“Sit down,” Aizawa said, quietly, firmly, gesturing to your chair with his drink, and it’s like you’re hearing his voice underwater. You never wanted to have this conversation with them at all, but since they knew, why couldn’t it at least be one-on-one? Why did they all have to be here at once?

You need to be alone. You need to be with Izuku.

Feeling very, very hollow, you’re guided back down to your seat by both Todoroki and Monoma as the room finally darkens, with a spotlight on the podium onstage. The string section played a vaguely familiar song as Bakugou yanked his and Todoroki’s chairs from their table to sit behind you, and Shinsou uncapped your drink, holding the bottle out for you to take. The Crawler walks out onstage to thunderous applause, but you didn’t catch his opening words.

Shinsou gripped your hand, almost crushing your fingers. He kept his eyes on you, not the stage. But so was everyone else.

Eventually, you could speak, though you kept it down, since the Crawler was talking. “I’m so sorry.”

Most of the table started to protest, but Aizawa held up his hand to cut them off.

“My life is over,” you found yourself saying, blankly, far away, somewhere without strategic lighting or dress codes or crowds, “I—all of you aren’t going to be able to be the same around me. Our relationships are fucked, because you’re going to look at me and know, know that I’m the direct cause of your never getting a soulmate in this timeline, that I’ve ruined things for you. God, I love our friendships, and I really shouldn’t, because you deserve more. I’ve deprived you of a warmth that I get to chase until the ends of the earth. I,” you said, and you really hadn’t wanted to cry at this damn event, but whatever, man, “I can’t—fuck.” You buried your face in your hands. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry. But I can’t get around it, and I don’t really want to. I love you guys so much. But I’m in love with Izuku.”

At the soft, muted sound of porcelain being slid across the tablecloth, you peeked through your fingers to glance down at a plate with three dumplings left on it. Touya tapped the edge of the plate, staring you down. “Eat this fucking thing.”

Taken aback, you sat up straight and, since no one else was reacting to that, obeyed. You hated that the dumplings made your stomach feel less like one, big knot. How annoyingly simple of a solution.

“All right,” said Bakugou, leaning forward in his chair so that he could speak in your ear while you chewed, “Have you noticed us act any different lately?”

You rushed to swallow. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve known you are our soulmate in other timelines since the day you threw up on Bakugou’s carpet,” said Todoroki.

“I’m sorry. What?”

Bakugou scowled and shook his head. “You were there for that conversation. In the infirmary, remember?”

“No,” you said, taking your drink from Shinsou again when prompted, “I—you’ll recall I’d hit my head. I didn’t…” You sighed. “Are you kidding? And we’re all—” You gestured around the table, trying to catch everyone’s eye. “—okay with this?”

The table remained silent.

“Jesus Christ,” you said, stomach turning but reaching for the next dumpling, anyway. “I’ve fucking destroyed your chances of happiness—”

“Can you not rub your brain cells together for once?” Bakugou tugged your chair backwards a few inches so that you could look him in the eye. “You and Izuku are exactly the same. Shut the fuck up. No one has lost any shred of happiness because of you and your choices.”

“Don’t think you have that much influence on our lives,” Aizawa was saying, smiling, “You don’t have to hold back on our account. You’re allowed to be happy.”

You couldn’t believe it.

You couldn’t.

But the sick feeling in your gut was fading.

Sniffing, you rubbed the back of your neck, tears running down your cheeks. “Hold on. I need a minute.”

Before you could compose yourself, the Crawler wrapped up his speech, with the crowd clapping as the lights rose and music picked back up.

Touya spoke under the applause, leaning towards you. “Plus, I know that some version of me out there gets have enormously fucknasty sex with you, so I’m good.” Tenko elbowed him in the chest, not bothering to be subtle.

“Thanks, Touya,” you said, cracking a weak smile, “You’re not…actually, you are helping. Thank you.”

Monoma took your free hand, dumpling-greasy as it were. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly aware of all the sweat draining down your back, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just thought—I thought I’d be keeping this to myself forever. Well, myself and Izuku.”

“And Ito,” said Bakugou, scoffing, “She won’t shut up about it. Says she didn’t mean for you to have a harem, but she’d be interested in seeing it play out. Claims she’s never seen one assigned from her quirk before.”

“Ito’s been talking to you about this?”

“She’s probably listening in somehow,” said Bakugou, jerking his thumb up to the second storey balcony, “Begged me to be my date for the night. Probably wanted a show.”

You followed his gesture to make out Ito on the second floor while she leant over the railing, her elbow-length, lace gloves recognisable even from this distance, and she was using opera glasses to look your way. Uraraka and Toga-as-Spike were laughing next to her.

“God,” you said, slumping in your seat, adrenaline draining completely, and you ran your hand back through your hair. “And everyone’s really okay with this,” you asked flatly, making a point to hold eye contact with everyone, and no one said anything. “Okay,” you said, setting your empty bottle on the table and moving to stand, “I’ll just be happy, then. Since you want me to. No take-backs.” You waited for any dissenting voices, but, again, they seemed content. “Cool. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Agreed,” said Aizawa, and he batted at Shinsou’s arm. “Go with her. Make sure she doesn’t drown herself in the toilet.”

Taking a deep breath, you and Shinsou wove through crowds and away from the music, travelling down century-old, narrow corridors until you located one of the minute restrooms open to the event. Spotting a member of the kitchen crew exit it, you instead yanked Shinsou around a roped-off corner to shove him against the exposed brick.

“Hitoshi, you’ve got to tell me the truth,” you said, gripping his lapels, eyes bulging, “Are any of you actually okay with this?”

Shaken, Shinsou glanced down at your hands and patted one with his own. “You’re overthinking it. We’re fine. Spend less time thinking about us, and allow yourself to be selfish. You—” Shinsou shifted his jaw, and, keeping his eyes on the water-stained ceiling, he rolled his shoulders back. “I’m not supposed to tell you this. I am not supposed to tell you this.”

You released him to give him space to consider his phrasing, shoe scraping the wood when you took a step back.

“It’s good that you’re Midoriya’s soulmate in this timeline, instead of any of ours,” said Shinsou, covering his mouth with his hand, brow scrunched, “Because—I don’t wanna get into who loves you more, or anything, because who can measure—but Midoriya definitely loves you better than any of us. Because he’s the only one who loves you well enough to let you leave him. To let you choose who you want.” Shinsou swore under his breath and, running a hand back through his hair, he slid down the wall into a crouch, bunching up his suit jacket.

Leave him? He’s never…hm. You knelt next to him. “What do you mean?”

Shinsou fiddled with the button on his jacket before unbuttoning it. “Midoriya’s been tearing himself up. First, over that he was ruining your life, and he thought he had verification of that because of the constant soulmate pain he felt, but then—he said that you two figured out something about soulmates and timelines, so that brought on another layer of guilt: that you could find your happiness with someone else.”

Fuck. Fuck. Might explain why he hasn’t insisted on being alone with you. Why all the group hangouts. Lately, it must’ve been too painful—must be why he begged you to look only at him. “Why would he not say anything until recently—what’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with him? What about what’s wrong with you?” Shinsou shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, laughing through a scoff. “Listen,” he said, and he, shifting to sit on his knees, took your hand to place it over his heart. “There’s nothing binding us together. You’re my best friend, yes, but that’s all. Feel that? Completely normal heartbeat.” Honestly, you couldn’t feel anything through the layers of fabric, but you let him continue. “I’m gonna be fine. We all will be. It should be a comfort that our lives don’t revolve around you. Not like we make up a solar system with you at the centre. You’ve also lost it if you think that romantic love is the only way we can lead a fulfilling—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you said, pulling your hand back, “I don’t want to rehash all the bitter stuff we’d say when we were all soulmate-less and hanging out with our graduating class.”

“Then stop rehashing all these feelings of guilt, too,” said Shinsou, “Allow yourself to live in reality, not in some daydream of what could’ve been.”

Every heavy feeling stirring in your gut for almost a year finally, finally evaporated, dissolving into air and floating far, far away like gossamer in the night breeze.

It left you feeling rather light. Almost foamy.

Nodding, you said through a dry croak, “I need to find Izuku.”

Shinsou clapped your knee in encouragement, and, pushing himself to stand, he helped you do the same. “I think we’re missing his speech right now.”

You rushed back through the labyrinthine corridors, almost knocking into some press and definitely knocking into a retired hero, sorry, but when you managed to cut through the throng, you weren’t even rewarded with the sight of Izuku at your table—Touya, Tenko, and Aizawa remained, the two former invested in the switch, the latter in the book he’d brought (fucking nerd). They hadn’t seen Izuku.

“Bakugou dragged him off towards the second storey,” Todoroki chimed in from his table, having taken a moment to swallow his crudité.

You thanked him and hurried off, first having to find a staircase and then a way to the outside balcony, but you caught a flash of Bakugou’s moonlit hair before you slipped around the corner to the alcove overhanging the backyard, and, holding your breath, you darted back inside the shadow to press yourself flat against the wall, hoping to God that you hadn’t interrupted anything terrible.

“You don’t even like beer, so stop bitching about not getting to have any,” said Bakugou, tilting his own bottle back to take a gulp.

“Sorry, Kacchan. It’s—I’m nervous. I don’t want to mess this up. It’s all so new to me.”

“What is?”

“Being in love.”

The words are spoken so softly you could’ve missed them under the distant, hollow notes of bamboo windchimes in the gardens. You heard Bakugou’s beer glass clink against the balcony railing, paired with a sigh, instead of answering.

“Thanks for not laughing,” said Izuku, sounding like he’d shifted to face Bakugou; his voice didn’t reverberate back as clearly anymore. “I just like being around her. We don’t have to say anything at all—like I can be switched to off. Like I can just be me, instead of someone everybody needs. It’s good. Calming. Feels like she’s always been a part of me, even when I didn’t know it. I don’t know how else to explain it. When I’m with her, I just feel like—like me, instead of any conceits of me that people have in their heads. And sometimes, she doesn’t even like me.” Izuku let out a laugh. “It feels good to have someone not see me as perfect and still love me for it. Sensual, even.”

“Control your dick, Izuku.”

Izuku laughed, and it echoed through the night air. “I don’t think she knows how much I think about it—building a life together. Genuinely settling in. Settling down. We’re already in deep, but I want more. I want to cook her breakfast. I want her house slippers next to mine by the door. I want to fumble for her soap in the shower. I want the empty spaces in our lives to be filled with her laughter. God,” said Izuku, accompanied by a clump, as if he’d banged his head against something, “I want to stop fisting myself every night thinking of her perfect tits, the curve of her hips—”

“Can it. I don’t need to hear—.”

“—it’s the kind of stuff I used to dream about.”

You couldn’t take it. You and Izuku were finally on the same page, and all of this running and chasing and finding was useless; you needed to be near him right now.

Retracing your steps, you approached the alcove again, this time making your footsteps obvious, and so while they were both expecting someone as you drew nearer, Izuku’s face lit up like a firework when he saw it was you—and then, for some reason, he turned bright fucking red.

“Hey, Izuku. Bakugou,” you said, nodding towards him before focusing on Izuku, lifting a hand to his heated cheek, “Are you all right? The heat was getting to me, too, earlier.”

Izuku shook his head frantically, and after he shut his eyes to take a heady breath, he steeled himself, looking at you with something next door to adoration as he placed a hand on your waist, he said, “I’m fine. I can’t stop thinking about what’s under that fucking dress.”

“O-kay,” said Bakugou, clapping Izuku on the shoulder, “I’ll be downstairs. Not that you’ll need me. Try not to break anything.”

Izuku didn’t even wait for Bakugou to leave the balcony before kissing you (you did catch Bakugou’s thumbs-up that you weren’t supposed to see), mouth opening the second he grazed yours, and you had to grab his face, squeezing at his cheeks while his cheek scuffed your palm, to tear him away.

“Hey,” you said, tapping his cheek in a ripple, trying to ignore how he grabbed at your waist almost desperately, staring at your lips, “Not yet. I wanted to tell you that I’m over it, over everything that’s complicating our situation, and that I love you.”

Izuku froze, cogs almost visibly turning, and he pressed his forehead to yours. “They talked to you, didn’t they? I asked them not to.”

“I was being weird about it, and they said some very comforting things—”

“Are you sure you want me? I’m not—not sure I’m what you want—I haven’t known you forever, like Shinsou, and I could never be as gentle as Aizawa—”

“Izuku,” you said, squeezing his face as you pushed him backwards to look him in the eye, “What I want is you, Izuku. No one else.”

He searched your face for any shred of deceit, and he pushed through the hand still on his face to hold him at a distance to kiss you again, tongue swiping at your lower lip, the grunt at the back of his throat so soft that he was almost drowned out by the bamboo windchimes again. While you sucked his tongue into your mouth, Izuku let his hands drift upwards, cupping one of your boobs, and Izuku broke the kiss with a hum while he stared down at his hand, circling your nipple through the fabric.

“Can you feel much through your dress?”

“Not especially,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

Izuku pouted, pursing his lips in thought, but a smile soon replaced it. “That’s fine,” he said, reaching for the slit in your billowing skirt, “Let me touch you? I wanna feel where I’m gonna come later.”

He didn’t need to know your underwear dampened at his words. “Izuku, we are in public.”

He paused just short of touching your bare leg. “Should we stop? We can stop.”

Huffing, you bit the inside of your cheek and looked down from the alcove, where a group had started into the gardens, laughing through their drunkenness. “We can keep going, but I’d like to be able to walk out of here without anyone knowing what we’ve done.”

“Got it,” he said, and he kissed you, hard, close-mouthed, pressing himself against you as much as he could. “Right,” he said, cradling your face when he broke away and guiding you backwards into the shadow against the alcove’s wall, “Then all we have to worry about is how much noise you make, hm? Can we trust that clever mouth to be quiet?”

Throat running dry, you swallowed thickly as Izuku’s fingers slipped through the slit of your dress, brushing over your inner thigh. “So long as you keep kissing me, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

Izuku grinned. “I like the way you think.” He kissed you again, hot as your back hit the wall. “But you’ll recall I want to watch.”

Without removing it from around his neck, Izuku rolled the end of his tie, pried your mouth open, and shoved it inside, its silk drying out your tongue as Izuku hiked your leg over his hip. He shivered, beaming, when one of his fingers grazed your clit through the lace, and he circled it slowly but firmly. Your breath hitched, and as the adrenaline spread to tingle in your fingertips, your cunt tensed up, clenching around nothing.

“Oh?” Izuku trailed his lips across your cheek to just before your ear, breath hot against it. He traced his finger down the lace flower along the gusset, and you felt his smile against your skin when he reached the wet patch pressing coolly over your heated entrance. “Interesting.”

“Hey,” you said, inhaling sharply when he dipped underneath the fabric, trailing his fingers up and down your labia, “Izuku—”

“You’re okay,” he said, pressing the calloused pad of his thumb against your bare clit, “We’re fine. In fact, we’re great, because, as you reminded me, we’re in public. I’d be sucking at you through the lace if we weren’t.” At your shudder, he ran the backs of his fingers down to test the dampening fabric. “Ohhh, that’s it. That’s nice. It’s just what I wanted to see.” Izuku lifted the gusset from you, cool air swishing up your heat, and he released it, fabric snapping back onto your cunt. “Eager to please me, aren’t you? Sick of trying to push me away?”

Izuku pulled back from your ear as his index finger circled your entrance, right around the rim as it began to curve inside. “Think you can take my fingers yet?”

You nodded and bit farther down on his tie to close some of the distance between you.

“Thank you. I need to stretch you out for later, anyway,” said Izuku, and he kissed your cheek before burying his face in your neck, rolling his hips against yours as he pressed his first finger into you. Its width caught you off guard, and you yelped into your gag.

“Hey, easy. Easy,” said Izuku, rubbing your clit as he drew his finger inside and out, so slowly, so fucking slowly, “We’re in public.”

It’s hard to articulate you rat bastard while gagged, but you got the message across.

Blood surged through your veins; you struggled to keep your eyelids from fluttering. Izuku flooded your sense: he’s licking at your neck and smelling so, so good, covering you with his warmth and ever-tightening the coil in your gut through his careful touches, and hey, when did he add a second finger? You’ll kill him, and he’s muttering the most frustrating things against your skin, like he didn’t care that you still had to walk out of here.

“C’mon, then,” said Izuku, surfacing from your neck, breathing heavily, like he’s just woken up, “Claim me. Mark me.” He removed a hand from under your skirt (the other, still pressing two fingers inside you, stretched to rub at your clit) to tug his tie out of your mouth, and he let it drop, saliva-heavy against his shirt. “Let everyone know that I’m your soulmate,” he said, baring his throat, “That you alone own me.”

“Izuku,” you said, panting, “Don’t you still have to give your speech?”

Izuku sighed, his fingers stilling inside you. “Yeah, I do. You’re right. You’re goddamned right,” he said, grimacing, and he withdrew his hand from underneath your skirt.

“Whoa, what?” you asked as he took a step back, “I—I, um.”

“Is there a problem?” he asked, a touch of smugness to his voice. “You have to say it, if you want something.”

Wetting your lower lip, you glanced over your shoulder and back at him. “I didn’t come.”

“That’s true,” said Izuku, adjusting his lapels, “but we’re in public, and I have a speech to give. How indecent.” He winked at you, and you huffed. “What a shame you’ll have to wait.”

You stepped towards him with murderous intent and froze as arousal gushed through the lace and down your leg. “Oh, God. I don’t think I can go out there. I’m too—”

“On it,” said Izuku, unravelling his tie and whipping it from around his neck, and he fucking parted your legs to wipe you down with it, pressing more into your cunt than someone cleaning up really should have.

“How do you manage to think through that horny fog in your brain?” you asked, as Izuku stood upright, examining the freshly wet spot on his tie.

“You get used to it.” Izuku watched your moonlit arousal glisten for a moment, and then he stuck the fabric into his mouth, sucking audibly.

“Holy fuck,” you said, shaking your head, “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Izuku was saying as he guided you by the small of your back off the balcony, stowing his tie in his inner suit pocket, and he took your hand to thread his fingers through yours when you reached the staircase. “But we should go home, where I know how sturdy everything is. There’s a reason why Bakugou told us not to break anything.”

Izuku led you through the dance floor back to your table, and you had to be normal. You had to sit down with your rotating coterie of friends coming to socialise, and you had to be normal. You had to watch Izuku unbutton his suit jacket as he sat next to you, flipping the jacket away from his hip as he stuck his hand in his pocket, and you had to be normal. His ankle bone poked through his thin sock as his trousers rode up, like a slut, and you had to be normal. Izuku held his bottle of sparkling water at his crotch, peeling at the condensation-beaded label, thumb rubbing up and down the bottle neck absently, and you had to be normal.

Monoma hissed and glared over his shoulder at the orchestra as they transitioned into a new song. “Aren’t we over ‘Air on the G String’ as a society yet?”

Touya cleared his throat, holding up his champagne flute to the light. “I’m not over anything in a g-string yet.”

Monoma propped his chin on his fist. “Touya, you are a paragon of modern society. Tell me about your plans to bolster the economy.”

Izuku caught your eye, his own glinting as they dropped to your lips, and you had to be fucking normal.

Later in the night, long after the orchestra had packed up and after most press had departed, the silent auction began. Since Izuku had no interest in it and you were vibrating out of this plane of existence, Izuku moved to one of the standing tables at the back of the ballroom. More openly drunk behaviour was exhibited here, and near your table, a caution sign had been erected where a recent spill had been mopped up.

You shivered as he sneaked up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he set a plate of the latest round of finger foods in front of you on the tiny table, and he leant his head against yours, rubbing his cheek on yours like a cat before kissing it. You craned your neck away from him, trying to seem absorbed in the flavours of meringues he’d brought over, but when he blew cold air into your ear, you jolted, eliciting a quiet chuckle.

“You are insufferable, Izuku,” you said, sounding controlled despite every part of you buzzing and screaming like a sparkler.

“Don’t I deserve to be? I’ve been waiting for so long,” he said, and he pressed a kiss in front of your ear, below it, and then on your neck. “I’m gonna make it really good for you.”

Izuku grinned into your throat when you stiffened, but you shook it off, taking a small step to the side and popping a meringue into your mouth just to have something besides Izuku to stimulate your senses. “Don’t just say things like that; I can’t take it.”

“You will.”

You would’ve choked if Izuku hadn’t timed his comment perfectly.

“I think,” said Izuku, tilting his head with a smile creeping in, “that you’re embarrassed, that you’re ashamed of taking so long to come around to your feelings, when I’ve been waiting with open arms and an open mouth all this time. So, in that gorgeous brain of yours, you’ve decided that you’ll acquiesce, that you’ll take every single thing I give you, because you feel like you deserve to be used as I please. Now, I’m not saying you’re right—” Izuku pushed some of your hair behind your ear, not that it needed it, and trailed his fingers down the side of your throat. “—because how rude, how mean of me would it be to think so? But. I shan’t deny that I’ll enjoy watching the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to take me inside.”

You grabbed his shirt, right where his tie should be, and as you jerked him towards you, you caught a glimmer of excitement (and you were reminded that any manhandling on your part was because he was letting you push him around). “If your cock isn’t in me within the next five minutes, I am going to shred you into confetti.”

“You’re doing this to yourself, you know,” said Izuku, grinning, holding his tongue between his teeth as he held his hands up in defence, “You can safeword out of it any time.”

This is part of it? Of fucking course it’d be part of it. “Fuck you, Izuku,” you said, also grinning, livid, “Lotus. Now, call our fucking car.”

Izuku was quite compliant after that, ever so polite to your friends as you ducked out and to the driver, even apologetic to you in the car as you shook him by the shoulders when he admitted he’d given his speech while you’d been talking with Shinsou. Courteous and kind even when you held his hand in a death grip on the ride home and pulled up a list of medieval torture methods for tomorrow.

“Okay, well,” you said, toeing off your shoes once you were inside the apartment, Izuku locking the door behind you, “I guess I’ll go wash up, or—”

“No, you’re fine,” said Izuku, and you found yourself being spun around by your thighs, Izuku kneeling on the hallway rug and staring up at you with big, ol’ wet eyes (that bitch). “You’re perfect.” He pressed his hand flat on your lower abdomen to back you against the wall, and he tapped the inside of your ankle to get you to shift your weight to your other foot; he tossed your leg over his shoulder and parted the slit in your dress. Izuku’s mouth found your clit and, through the lace, sucked hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” you said, hand flying to his hair, “You—you don’t even have to, fuck, Izuku—I’m wet; you don’t have to warm me up. I’m ready for you.”

Gathering saliva on his tongue, he licked up the length of your cunt, dampening the final scraps of the fabric not already soaked. He licked where your labia met your inner thigh, down the trail of arousal dripping down your leg. “Gracious,” he said once he’d surfaced, “Good Lord, you’re drenched.”

“Izuku,” you said with a whine, “Get up. Fucking—fucking stop. I—I’m going—I need to—”

“I know, baby,” said Izuku, so gentle as he stood and cradled your face in his hands, and he kissed you softly. “I know what you need. Seems like you’re close to being fucked-out brainless without even coming. You’re adorable. You can relax now, sweet girl. I’m going to take care of you.” He indulged you when you kissed him again, and he guided your jaw open a little wider so that he could slip his tongue inside. “Oh, that’s good. You’re so good for me,” said Izuku, flicking away the gauzy thread of saliva between you, “While don’t you get on the bed, hm?”

You nodded, almost drowsily, because relief swept over you to such a full extent that you’re a bit boneless, and you trudged into his bedroom and crawled onto the bed, flopping over to sink into his pillows.

Wait, was Dango in here? Your cat shouldn’t witness you having sex. She might claw at someone’s nipple. You dangled upside-down off of the side of the bed, peering underneath it for Dango, unable to discern if that far shadow were her.

When Izuku entered the room, suit jacket draped over his arm, you explained the situation. You paused the sexual encounter to locate the cat, who was inside Izuku’s closet in his sock drawer, and once you’d shut her out of the room and washed your hands, you reconvened on the mattress.

“Did that kill the mood?” you asked, hair splayed around you on the pillow as you arched your back to unzip your dress, “I think that may have killed the mood.”

“It didn’t; trust me.” Transfixed by your boobs, Izuku fumbled to unbutton his trousers, and when he stepped out of them, you halted in your shimmying off of your dress: shirt stays pinned his shirt down, their straps digging into the muscle of his upper thighs, and sock garters did the same around his calves. “It does it for me, actually, knowing that you’re so conscientious about this sort of thing.”

“Come closer,” you said, holding out your grabby hands, and he, bewildered, came to the edge of the bed, legs touching the blankets. You traced down a strap of his shirt stays, and you pulled one out to snap it back, the elastic cracking against his pale thigh. You covered your mouth with your hand, throat constricting slightly as heat curled in your lower stomach.

Izuku lifted his knee to press into the mattress, and you scooted backwards to accommodate his body as he climbed on. “Everything all right?”

“My mind is about to melt out of my ears,” you said, sitting back against the headboard. “Please, continue undressing.”

Cute how you could tell he was making mental notes in how he watched your reactions to him, how he unfastened his sock garters and stays and tossed his shirt across the room, leaving him in his briefs that honestly seemed a few sizes too small because Jesus fucking Christ, that’s a bulge.

But Izuku wouldn’t let you look at it, tapping your chin upwards, and pulling your dress down to your hips, and when he’d gotten it off, he left to hang it up. You buried your face in your hands, kicking your feet in the air, because what the fuck; what did you do to deserve someone so strangely endearing.

He kissed you upon his return, tilting your chin to follow him as he guided you to lie back. That hand then slid down your neck, applying a slight, massaging pressure, and his lips followed, reluctantly parting your tongue from his. Izuku nipped at the flesh where your neck met your shoulder, hand trailing down your arm, touching so lightly that the hair on the back of your arms stood up, and as he rolled his hips against yours, he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, another onto your upper arm, towards your elbow, each open-mouthed kiss wetter than the last. He mouthed at the inside of your forearm, holding your hand up towards the ceiling, and he licked a wide stripe up your palm before deep-throating your middle and ring fingers, groaning around them.

The thought occurred to you that this man is a fucking freak when you realised he’s kept his other hand behind his back this whole time, but he bit down around your ring finger, holding your hand still when you tried to jerk it away. Izuku pulled your fingers from his mouth, admiring the teeth marks at the base of your finger. “The rings finished getting resized today,” he said, showing you the velvet box he’d been concealing, and he popped it open, your white-gold wedding rings sitting inside. He kissed the pads of your wet fingers. “Let me put it on?”

“Fine, fine,” you said, wiggling your fingers in his grasp. Izuku beamed as he slid your ring onto your hand to sit directly over the bite mark, and honestly, some lightheadedness started to creep in. Before it got to you, you took Izuku’s ring to put it on his finger, though you didn’t bother lube it up first (?), as he had.

“Hey,” said Izuku, both hands cupping your cheeks, tapping his ring finger against you, “I love you, by the way. In case you didn’t know.” When his lips pressed against yours, scorching, your hands gripped his wrists to hold him closer, your hips rocking minutely of their own accord. He smiled into the kiss and hitched his knee under your thigh, drawing both upward so that he could grind more directly onto you, and dear God—

“Actually,” you said, gasping as you slid your hands up his arms to squeeze appreciatively at his biceps (he didn’t stop pressing kisses along your jawline), “I think I need to hear you say that again.”

“Of course,” said Izuku, breath fanning over your ear, “I love you. So much, my dear, dear wife. My soulma—”

“Oh, shit, are we married?” You pried him away from you for a second to see if he were joking.

Hair dishevelled with curls blown out, he shot you an incredulous look. “Don’t you check your email? Yes. Yes, we’ve—the notification came in late last night—”

“I don’t check my email; that’s where the emails are,” you said, grumbling and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Just wondering. You may proceed to fuck my brains out now.”

Izuku braced his weight on his forearms, each on either side of your head, dipping into the pillows. “You know, usually I’d say that this kind of behaviour is strange and off-putting, but since it’s you, I’m fucking hard as a rock. Congratulations. You do strange and off-putting things to me,” said Izuku, stretching down to kiss your cheek.

A compliment? An insult? Who knows! “Uh, I meant that you may proceed to fuck my brains out now, sir?”

Izuku slapped his hand over his eyes, biting his lip, and he inhaled sharply (his cock twitched against you). He had to take another deep breath before he could speak. “Okay,” he said, dragging his hand down his face, “Yeah, I’m in love with you, you maniac. We should have sex before we both just—explode from talking to each other. That sound okay? Cool. Thank you.” He shifted his weight to drag his finger under the strap of your bra, stopping just before he reached the cup. “Bra on or off? You look wonderful in it, of course; I didn’t think your boobs could get any prettier. But if the wire’s cutting into…”

Taking too long. You twisted to unhook the bra yourself, and you threw it somewhere. Since you knew he’d take his time about the underwear, you yanked them off, too, laughing through your nose at their weight from how wet they were. “They’re lovely, Izuku. Notice how I’m not letting you rip them, because I want to wear them again.”

“Appreciated,” said Izuku, staring down at your boobs, fingers grazing the delicate skin. “Do you think you could come just from my sucking your tits?”

“Stop stalling,” you said, fighting the urge to whack him with a pillow, “You can have me any way you want, as long as you want, for the rest of our lives. Get on with it.”

“Right,” said Izuku, snapping the waistband of his briefs to break his gaze away from your chest, and he leant down to kiss you again, licking over your bottom lip, tilting your head to the right, and waiting for you to open your mouth for him. When you did, the hand resting on your thigh dragged upwards to your labia, still dripping and swollen from the lace rubbing against it all night, thumbing between them to part you, thumb sliding up to your clit and two fingers slipping inside you, prompting a full-bodied shudder at the first graze to your g-spot.

Izuku breathed a fuck against your lips, and as he pulled away, you caught the fading scent of his cologne, sweet apple and cedar mixed with the beading sweat. “You have such a tiny cunt. I—hm,” he said, watching the way his fingers pumped in and out of you, and he pulled his other hand away from toying with your clit to tap his fingers, one by one, in your pubic hair. “Baby, I need you to answer me honestly. How many orgasms do you think you can handle tonight?”

Is this a test? “As…many as you’ll let me have?”

“No, I need a real number. I may legitimately be too big for you, and the more relaxed I can get you, the farther I can sink inside. To your benefit, you’re already very wet, but you’re still pretty tense in here,” he said, fingers curling against your g-spot, making you spasm a bit; he held you down at your hip.

Since you’ve been fucking edged all night, your greedy little mind didn’t supply a number, but you also knew that once you got that first orgasm, you’d probably chicken out quickly. “Probab—probably two.” You grasped his forearm, halting his fingers. “I want at least one of them around your cock.”

Izuku nodded, and he kissed the back of your hand before placing it on his chest (he flinched when your nail grazed his nipple). “Two. All right, then,” he said, pushing his fingers in you while grinding on your clit with the heel of his palm, but he’d hardly bent to wrap his lips around your nipple before you were gushing around his fingers, clamping your hand over your mouth to stifle any noise.

Izuku pulled away from your tit, brow furrowed as he extracted his fingers, strings of arousal connecting them. “Wha—that was—that was too easy.” Izuku crawled over you, searching for anything the matter in your expression. “I know I’m okay, but I’m not that good—”

“I don’t know either,” you said through a breathy sigh, eyelids heavy, “Guess I needed your permission. Guess I need you to fill me that badly.”

A line of white-green lightning sparked from his arousal-coated fingertips and scorched all the way up his arms, fizzling out in a hiss at his bicep. Adam’s apple bobbing, Izuku pushed himself off the bed. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said, stepping towards the bathroom, and he turned back, jabbing a finger in your direction. “Stay—stay horny, in the meantime.” He closed the bathroom door behind him.

A full minute passed.

He poked his head out of the bathroom. “Yes condom? No condom?”

You’re on another type of birth control, too, but let’s make him more flustered. “Why not forgo the condom? After all, it’s our wedding night.”

Eyes bulging, Izuku hurked and shut the door again.

When he came out, he had fresh determination in his eyes and water along his hairline. “Hey! Hello,” he said, returning to the bed, “Sorry about that. Thought I was gonna come in my underwear. Had to splash water on my face to calm down.”

“It’s fine. It’s cute. You know, usually I’d say that this kind of behaviour is strange and off-putting, but since it’s you, I’m drenched. Congratulations. You do—”

“Stop that,” said Izuku, kissing your forehead. His thumb hitched under the elastic of his briefs, and he sighed. “In all seriousness, we may have to restrict tonight to just the tip.”

“Yeah? And what if we restrict our breathing to once every five minutes?”

“You’re ridiculous,” muttered Izuku, and he yanked down his underwear, and you saw fucking red while he readied himself, grabbing lube from his nightstand and moving to kneel between your legs, because why hadn’t you really looked at his cock when he was naked and flirtatious at the waterfall? No way would it have not been burned into your brain, been the only thing you fantasised about for months, because who is this man, and who gave him permission to have that kind of cock, annoyingly, infuriatingly pretty (how loathsome), twin veins twisting around the thick shaft that were even vaguely green like his quirk, crooking upward, sporadically dotted with freckles (which, in conjunction with the freckles on his ass, brings into question how often this man must sunbathe naked), and fucking aching for you, pink head smeared with precum, but, most importantly, way too fucking big why is it coming up that high on your stomach when he rests it atop your mons pubis he is going to break you in half.

“Cool,” you said, normally, like a normal person, “I don’t need to see that.” You nodded towards how much of your lower abdomen his cock was lying across, and you grabbed his hips (thumbs pressing against his hipbones, that slut) to manhandle him away from you, and Izuku looked very pleased to let you.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Izuku guided his cock down your slit and nudged the head between your labia near your entrance. “Take a deep breath, okay?” he asked, leaning his forehead against yours and taking your hand in his. His cockhead spread you, stretching you in a sort of stinging pleasure, and he stifled a groan that vibrated through his chest.

Heat coiling inside you, you rolled your hips, but Izuku was quick to stop you, splaying a hand across your stomach. He cleared his throat. “Just wait. I’ll give it to you in a minute. You’ll be all right.”

But you couldn’t take it; you went about it more subtly this time, rocking your hips ever so slightly, working them back and forth (and if he actually wanted to stop you, he had the means), and even though it’s just his tip, your insides were boiling, clenching and fluttering around him; you’re really, truly, quite too small for him, but another gush of arousal allows another inch to slide in, and Izuku’s eyes snapped open.

“Doesn’t hurt,” you said, before he could ask, and you brought his lips to yours while you curled your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting your hips to encourage him to push just a little more, but as Izuku found a shallow rhythm, working more of his cock inside you bit by bit, you found your eyes watering—not hurting, no, but overwhelmed, realising that yes, this was Izuku; this was the rest of your life, and how lovely it will be to spend the rest of your life feeling so full. You were his, and he was yours. This is how it’s always been. From everyone’s soulmate, to simply Izuku’s soulmate. And from there, the beginning of a life unfolded.

He's thrusting hastily, shallowly, and he’s closed his eyes again, grinning with every thrust, because he can hear how sticky and wet it was as you opened up underneath him. He rolled his hips, groaning and hunching in on himself, and he squeezed one of your boobs, rolling your nipple under his thumb, bringing the buzz in your head to a clamour.

But both of you froze when his hips met your ass: he’s fully seated inside, pressing against a spot that’s making you dizzy.

“Fucking hell,” Izuku said under his breath, “You have all of me.” Running his tongue over his lower lip, he grinded into you, eliciting a choked gasp as you clutched as his back, and his hands were on you again, and everywhere he touched was singing.

Izuku’s rambling against your skin, but you’re so close that you can barely make out what he’s saying. “I’m so glad we found each other. I’m so glad it’s you. I’ve—I’ve loved you for so long, y’know? But I was shy back then, and so I studied and improved myself and became confident for you, to become to kind of man you could always feel safe around. The kind you could always come home to. When Uraraka found Toga, I dared to hope. Dreamed about it, about you, until the dreams shifted into waking up in the northern lands, frigid, waist-deep in snow, and dealing with dragons. And we found each other again. Got to be around you in my dreams when it felt like every waking force deliberately kept me from you. And then you hated being bound by fate, when I cried that first night with relief, and I bore the pain of rejection because it meant you were thinking of me in any way at all.” He pressed a wet kiss to your jaw. “I’m so glad we’re here. I’m so glad I love you. I’m so glad I’m supposed to love you. I want to spend the rest of my life learning about you, angel. So, please,” he said, rolling your clit between this thumb and index finger, “like I asked earlier tonight: mark me. Leave some sort of evidence on my that I’m yours. The rings, yes, always the rings, but I’ll always look at your ring and think about that bite mark, so please, mark me in some way, and I’ll wear it for the rest of my life like a fucking collar. Please—”

You’ve been holding off your orgasm to listen, but, unable to bear it, you let it wash through you, clenching your teeth, twitching and gushing around him with your heartbeat pulsing in your ears and, for some reason, the roof of your mouth. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him in deeper in a motion that made him gasp.

“Oh, very funny,” Izuku sputtered, “You’re hilarious—” He managed to get in one more, jittery roll of his hips before he was coming, releasing the breathiest, most pathetic whines you’ve ever heard, and it only made you want him more.

But as both of you were coming down, the bedroom exploded in a cloud of shining, pink specks.

Neither you nor Izuku spoke, both trying to catch your breaths. Izuku grunted as he pushed himself upright, straining his muscles to support his weight, watching the glitter fall to the blankets and fade upon impact.

“The hell is this? The hell,” you winced, hissing as he pulled out of you, cum dribbling out (for a second, a filmy string of cum linked the two of you, but it broke when he sat back), “is it?” You tried to snatch a pink speck, as one snatches dust from the air, but you couldn’t grab hold. “Is this some One for All aspect I don’t know about?”

“No, I—” Izuku placed a hand on his chest, as if he could control how steadily it rose and fell in the process of regulating his breathing, “—it’s pink. Must be Ito’s quirk. Oh, gosh,” he said, frowning, moving to kneel (and inadvertently displaying his softening cock, glossy with cum), “I hope it all fades; I wouldn’t want Dango to get sick if she eats any. Pivoting—eating reminded me—dream Todoroki, mage Todoroki, said he thinks he can finally get the frappe consistency when we try tonight. He’s been practising with coconut milk and has achieve something close to a slush.”

Teeming with affection, you reached for Izuku, pushing a curl behind his ear. “It really is one thrill after another with you, isn’t it?”

Izuku snorted, covering his mouth in surprise that he could even make that noise, and he smiled with his eyes back at you, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. “We should clean up,” he said, dropping his hand, “Shower together?” He patted your thigh as he slid off the bed.

“Oof, ouch, my bones. My bone marrow,” you said flatly, holding the back of your hand to your forehead (eyes on his broad shoulders as he stretched, on the dip between his shoulder blades, the indent of his spine above the swell of his pretty, freckled ass—no, stop), “I can’t move.”

“I’ll get a washcloth,” said Izuku, and he started towards the bathroom. As he turned, you caught the beginning of a small, boyish smile meant just for himself—looking very much like sunlight.

Apt. You planned on basking in his warmth forever.

(Just being next to Izuku lit up your world in a colour you’ve never known. His love brought changes, changed you, in such tiny, indiscernible ways that you couldn’t notice until the light shined back on them.)

You were trying to make some sort of photosynthesis joke about it, but the pieces weren’t coming together. You shook yourself out of your thoughts to register Izuku, standing in the bathroom door, staring back at you, head tilted, eyes somewhat glazed over.

You cleared your throat, sitting up in bed. “Izuku? Is something wrong?”

Startled, Izuku snapped out of it. “Oh! No, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “I was just so taken with you. You’re lovely. So lovely.”

He shot you a small wave, and as he disappeared into the bathroom, it occurred to you that he may just look at you in the same way you look at him.

You heard his burst of laughter echo against the tile. “In regard to your aching bone marrow,” called Izuku, smile so evident in his voice, “does that mean you’re not up for a second round?”

Rolling your eyes, you collapsed back in the bed, snuggling into Izuku’s pillow, excited for when he comes back outside so that you can spend more time together. “Yeah,” you said, heart so full it may burst, “In your dreams, jackass.”

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

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 2: The Wake-up Call

Elliot hadn’t seen Tom in over a year. They’d been close friends back in college, running together on the cross-country team and going to the gym every day. Tom had always been the fit one—the guy with a solid routine, a six-pack, and a protein shake in hand at all times. Elliot had respected it, even envied it sometimes, but after graduation, their paths had diverged. Elliot moved to the city for his new job and life, while Tom stayed back to start his own fitness consulting business.

But when Tom called last week, saying he was coming into town and wanted to catch up, Elliot was excited. It had been a while, and he knew it would be good to reconnect.

They decided on a small, trendy bistro in the city—a place with a health-conscious menu that catered to people like Tom: avocado toast, quinoa bowls, and smoothies with kale and spirulina. Elliot, despite his growing enjoyment of food and his expanded waistline, had agreed without hesitation. After all, he was still the same person, right? The same guy who had a solid foundation in healthy habits... just, well, a little more relaxed about it these days.

When Tom walked in, Elliot was already at the table, nervously checking his phone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Tom’s company until he saw him. Tom was still in prime shape—muscular, lean, and glowing with that natural energy that only someone who consistently worked out seemed to possess. He wore a fitted T-shirt and designer jeans, a look that was all too familiar from their college days.

"Well, well, look who it is!" Tom grinned, sliding into the chair across from Elliot. “It’s been forever, man! You look... well, different.”

Elliot grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, a little bit of a change. Been busy, you know?”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Busy? Or *eating*? What’s up with that?” He gestured to the menu, a slight smirk on his face. “They don’t have a salad on here big enough for you anymore?”

Elliot chuckled nervously, trying to brush it off. "Nah, I’ve just been... living a little more. Trying new things. You know, enjoying life."

Tom squinted at him, clearly trying to figure out what Elliot was getting at. “You mean you’re eating like an actual *normal* person now, huh? Not so much of the ‘rabbit food’ anymore?”

Elliot felt a small knot form in his stomach. It wasn’t like Tom to be snarky, but there was something in his tone that made him uncomfortable. "I mean, I’ve been enjoying some bigger meals," Elliot admitted. "I’ve just... been eating more, that’s all. Been hanging out with my roommates, they love to cook."

Tom let out a light laugh, as if he’d just heard the punchline to a joke. “Oh, I get it now. You’ve got a couple of ‘foodies’ as roommates, huh? You know, dude, it’s cool to indulge every once in a while, but you’ve *got* to be careful. You don’t want to end up looking like those guys.”

Elliot’s smile faltered. He’d known Tom wasn’t the most tactful person when it came to body image, but hearing it from him stung more than he expected. Still, he tried to brush it off. “I’m not exactly packing on the pounds, Tom. Just... enjoying life a little more. It’s not a big deal.”

Tom tilted his head, inspecting Elliot more closely. “You sure about that? Because, man, you’ve got a little... softer around the edges, you know?” He chuckled. “I mean, last time I saw you, you were running marathons and eating protein bars for fun. What happened? Did you trade in the gym for a couch and some pizza?”

Elliot felt his face heat up. He wasn’t used to hearing those kinds of comments—especially not from Tom. Sure, they had always joked around in the past, but this felt different. There was an edge to it, and it left him feeling exposed. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: Tom’s comments or the fact that they felt like they were *true*.

“Look, I haven’t exactly been training for a marathon, but I’m still active,” Elliot said, trying to defend himself. “I go for runs now and then. I’m not... I’m not just eating junk all the time.”

Tom raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. I mean, you can eat whatever you want, but I thought you were better than this, man. You used to be *in shape*. Now you’ve got that ‘comfortable’ look. It’s fine, I guess, if you’re into it.”

Elliot wasn’t sure if he was more upset with Tom or with himself. He couldn’t ignore the tightness in his shirt, or the fact that his stomach wasn’t as flat as it used to be. And sure, maybe his eating habits had changed a little. But the idea that Tom was so quick to judge him for it made him feel small. Tom had always been the guy who had everything together, especially when it came to his body. To hear him poke fun at Elliot—his old friend—was like a punch to the gut.

Before he could respond, the waiter came over to take their orders. Tom, as expected, went for a grilled chicken salad with a side of quinoa, while Elliot, still flustered, ordered a hearty pasta dish. A few minutes later, their drinks arrived, and the conversation shifted back to the basics of their old college days. But the tension was there, just under the surface, and Elliot couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had changed. He wasn’t the same guy anymore, and it wasn’t just about the way he looked.

“So, how’s work going?” Tom asked, taking a sip of his water. “You still doing that tech thing?”

Elliot nodded, grateful for the change in topic. “Yeah, it’s been good. Busy, but it’s exciting. I’m getting a lot of opportunities, so that’s been cool.”

“That’s awesome,” Tom said, leaning back. “But hey, just remember, man, if you ever want to get back in shape, you know who to call. I can help you get back on track. No shame in a little reboot.”

Elliot forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, Tom. I appreciate it. But I’m good. Really.”

The rest of the dinner went by in a blur. Tom talked about his new clients, his latest workouts, and how he was trying to break into a more competitive fitness market. Elliot nodded along, though his mind kept drifting back to the words Tom had thrown his way. He didn’t know if he was more upset about the body-shaming or the fact that he couldn’t help but wonder if Tom was right. Was he just becoming “comfortable”? Was he letting himself go?

By the time dessert arrived—Tom, of course, ordering a fruit salad with yogurt and Elliot taking a small chocolate mousse—Elliot couldn’t shake the feeling of being in a weird limbo. He wasn’t sure if he was proud of his new, more relaxed approach to food and life, or if he should go back to his old habits—just to prove that he could.

But as they parted ways later, walking out of the bistro together, Elliot realized something important. 

The way Tom saw him wasn’t the way he saw himself anymore. Tom might be in perfect shape, but Elliot had something his old friend didn’t: balance. He’d stopped obsessing over every bite, stopped counting every calorie, and had started enjoying the present. Sure, it was a little messy. He was fuller, a little softer, but he was also more content, more confident in his own skin. 

Maybe Tom didn’t understand that. Maybe Tom would never understand. But that was okay.

As he walked back home, Elliot felt the familiar warmth of his roommates’ laughter spilling out of the apartment windows. They were waiting for him, as always, with a meal ready. And tonight, for the first time, he didn’t feel guilty about it. He was exactly where he needed to be.

The night with Tom lingered in Elliot's mind longer than he’d like to admit. During the walk home, he replayed the conversation over and over, Tom’s mocking comments echoing in his head like a persistent buzz. "You’ve got that ‘comfortable’ look," Tom had said, with that insufferable smirk on his face. It had stung more than he was willing to admit. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of body-shaming, especially not from someone who was once a close friend.

But as he walked through the door of the apartment, where the comforting sounds of Ryan and Mark laughing over dinner filled the air, he felt that familiar sense of calm return. It wasn’t about Tom or his judgment. It was about this—this life, this space he’d created with Ryan and Mark. They had welcomed him, no questions asked, no criticisms about how much he ate or what he looked like. 

He’d spent too much time obsessing over his body, too much time worrying about the way others saw him. He wasn’t going to let Tom’s words define him. He wasn’t going to let them ruin the progress he’d made—his freedom to enjoy food, to live without guilt. 

That night, Elliot made a silent promise to himself. He was going to embrace it. He wasn’t just going to go back to his old ways, trying to fit into someone else’s idea of what was "right" or "healthy." He was going to match Ryan and Mark bite for bite, savor every meal, and let go of any lingering insecurity. If this was his new life, he was going to dive in, unapologetically.

****New Chapter will be posted each Thursday****

[neoplatinum]

hold me tight - bts | kim dahyun

summary: maybe cupid could save us

pairing: dahyun x fem!reader

themes: angst, fluff, tension, use of flashbacks in italics, marriage counseling, reader insecurity, past physical violence (against original male character, not any member of twice), implied sex, some of twice!

wc: 7.2k

polished silverware, two table napkins, two sets of forks, and knives. a draped tablecloth, and the long wooden table stretching down the dining room. on two ends are two lost souls, once connected with bountiful joy and prosperity. now sat farther apart than the two ends of a colossal ship. barely stitched together by unspoken words and exhaustion.

"what time?" you dig into your steak, back and forth sliding it down the tender meat.

"2pm tomorrow. should i call your assistant?" dahyun digs at her roasted potatoes, a little sweet, just the way she likes it.

"no need, i'll be there." you counter, stabbing the slice of steak, digging into it. pushing the green peas a bit to the left, and sipping the wine. a delicacy truly.

"good." she says quietly, "pass me the pepper?" you look up, the bottle is in the middle.

the dmz line, you lean foward, grabbing a hold of the glass bottle, placing it into her hand.

"here."

"thank you."

the rest of the dinner is followed by the sounds of silverware, and only silverware.

--

dr. yoo jeongyeon, phd, lcpc

you stare at the plaque, gold serif lettering, bold face on top of a black rectangle, sitting directly in the middle of the edge of her desk. your loafers gently tapping the carpeted floor, in time with each tick of a second.

she looks confident, shoulders back and sinking into her leather chair. glasses perched on her nose, a montblanc in hand. eyes a little empty, but inviting, a little too inviting.

"thank you both for joining us today, first time?" dr. yoo starts, eyes taking a slow drift from dahyun to you.

dahyun's legs are tucked together, low heels and a brown suit. she leans forward at dr. yoo's question. "yes, first time."

a simple nod, and a scribble along her notepad. you tilt your head to the right.

"each session with me runs fifty minutes, no longer. if needed, it can be cut short." she says, placing some files away, shuffling paper away, and fixing her glasses. you both nod at the terms. "lovely, could i have you both introduce yourselves?" she continues, eyes back on you and dahyun.

you stare at dahyun.

"i'm dahyun, 26, a fashion designer and a wine enthusiast, lovely to meet you." dahyun stands up, offering a handshake. dr. yoo smiles lightly and shakes it.

"and you?"

"i'm dahyun's wife, 26, ceo and founder of future consultants llc, and a tennis enthusiast."

dr. yoo's eyes stare at you, but her pens moves quickly along the page.

dahyun stares at you, before looking back at her folded hands.

"thank you both, now could you both explain why you are here?" her eyes come back up, those glasses hanging so low is making you mad.

dahyun coughs into her hand.

"we need help." a little unsure, but a desperate plea. your foot stops tapping on the carpeted floor.

dr. yoo scribbles along a new line.

"and you?" the doctor stares at you. you sit up, fixing the buttons on your blazer.

"we're...not the same as we used to be." you say, pulling one leg over the other. dr. yoo nods at that, another line filled.

"alright, now, let me give you some insight on me. i'm dr. yoo jeongyeon, did my phd in human psychology, masters in counseling and bachelor's in neurology. and i'm a lcpc: licensed clinical professional counselor. you can say i'm a people enthusiast." she smiles lightly, dahyun laughs under her breath.

your foot goes back to tapping.

"let's get into it." she sets down the notepad. "could you tell me how you both met?"

--

"what's the maturity date for a treasury bond?"

"20 - 30 years, you seriously have to try harder, sam." you laugh, taking another sip of your beer. sam just grins and flips over a new flashcard.

"okay smarty pants, what are floating-rate notes?" sam taps the index card on the bar table. eyes a little playful, he always did like making you work for your reward.

"they're-"

"stop it ryan." behind you is the voice of a woman, her back hitting yours, nearly spilling your beer. you turn around, a man towering over her, hand on her wrist and his firm grip, stopping her. no matter how hard she tries to pull.

you signal sam.

"take your hand off her." you press down on his wrist, holding his arm in place. the woman stares at you and sam, bewildered eyes and still pulling against ryan's hold.

"fuck off." he spits in your face.

"yeah? let's see how your face looks after this pretty boy." you slam into his chest, him tumbling backwards, foot hitting the barstool and a loud thud hitting the floor. you spot the submariner on his wrist shining under the bar light, fuck.

sam's at the ready, hand on a switchblade, you signal him back, not him.

the woman gasps, hand immediately shooting her sore wrists, shit it looks bad. ryan's still on the group, and then he shoots up. hands at the ready to land a punch, weak form though. you sidestep him, letting him fall forward.

"daddy can't pay to fix your crooked nose?" you smirk at him, taunting him to do anything. his eyes ablaze as he tries again. what a foolish boy.

you let him try and land a left hook, before you start punching his jaw, one good liver punch and he topples over. damn, your jaw hurts too, men like him throw too much of their power into their punches.

"fuck, sam." you groan to your friend, hand trying to pop your jaw back into place. you do, letting out a low shout, before getting your stuff.

stay too long and then he'll call the cops, the last thing you need is another fine print on your academic file. you stumble forward, feeling blood dripping down the side of your head, cheeky bastard, he had rings on.

you barely manage to push the bar door, string of curses falling out of your lip, the cold air immediately frosting your breath. damn it all, and you left your beer half finished.

"excuse me!" the woman's voice carries from the door, and you can see her, urgently trying to get to you. "thank you so much back there."

she's trying to offer you some napkins from her clutch, all you can do it hope that liver punch suckered him to stay on the ground long enough for you to dissapear.

"you have anyone safe?"

"safe?"

you gesture a bit. "like a friend maybe? did you come alone?"

you lean to the side trying to get a glimpse of pretty boy, but he's no where in sight. a good thing. you can see sam though, shoving bills at the bartender, and grabbing jackets.

"no friends, i came with him." her hand goes back to her bruised wrist, yeah that looks awful. you're very glad you stepped in.

"listen, i need to leave now. i would love to do the whole 'thank you, you're welcome' pleasantries, but I don't know how long he'll stay down before he calls the cops."

you explain, seeing sam opening the bar door, urgent eyes calling for you to disappear into the night.

"could you take me home, i really have no other way to get back." you stare into the bar, oh pretty boy's up, shouting at a bartender. you need to exit NOW.

"okay, let's go. i know you're wearing heels, but keep up." you offer a hand, and disappear into the back alleyway. by the time you just turn around the corner at the end, you can hear the distant voice outside the bar.

you're finally in sam's beater car, an old hand-me-down from his grandma, with the girl from the bar in the backseat.

she keeps watching you from the mirror.

"where do you live?" you pull out of the back lot, she's still soothing her bruised wrist.

"eleanor court, upper east side." damn shit, of course she's rich too, loaded with daddy's money just like that dude you suckered punched. how you always manage being at the hands of rich people, you hope to find out soon, because this sucks.

the drive's pretty silent, sam's got his old 80s mixtapes playing from the car radio. and he's humming along as he taps on his passenger door, you're glad that at least one of you has a car.

"woah..." sam brings you out of your thinking. woah is correct, even sam can see it.

colonial style homes the size of manors down the perfectly paved roads. long outdoor lamp lights lining the street. lush bushes and trees lining the sides of the house. not a single police car in sight, you can even see fountains spouting water from a statue.

what a bunch of crap.

"dude, she's asleep." sam taps your shoulder, you quickly put his car in park. looking at her from the rear view, damn she is asleep, jacket covering her torso but her head leaning against the window.

damn, damn, damn.

one wrong HOA member being curious, and you can easily be thrown in jail for the rest of your life. you open your door, rushing to the backseat. opening the door, and placing your hand against her head to keep her body from falling out of the car.

"miss, we're home." she just curls into your hand. "sam, help me hold her up." he nods, using his bodyweight as a rest for the girl's body. you begin searching through her clutch, hopefully she has an id inside.

"kim dahyun.....501 eleanor court." you shove the id back into her clutch. "sam move." you grab a hold of her body, picking her body up. wrapping the jacket and clutch over top of her.

"stay in the car. i'll bring her in." you began walking down the eerily quiet neighborhood, goodness rich people are so pretentious. you struggle to open the gate. then you hear a low mechanic voice.

"hello, who are you?"

"hi, i'm just here to drop off a kim dahyun. she had an issue with some guy at the bar, and she needed someone to take her home." you speak into it, a clicking noise and then the metal box goes silent.

the large metal gates open, you step in, walking up to the front porch, pillars lining the wide entrance.

goodness, you need to get out of this neighborhood. the large wooden door opens and you see two people, a suited man and a maid. of course.

"miss dahyun?" the maid begans fussing over her, hand on her cheek, "oh my!" a loud gasp at the bruised wrist. you drop her into the leather couch.

"what happened?" the butler asks you, offering a towel at your dried blood.

you try your best to keep yourself from dirtying the house, both of them keep staring at you though.

"uh, some guy at the bar, ryan. he kept bruising her wrist, so i had to step in." you point at your head. the butler nods, and the maid begins inspecting the bruise.

"i told miss dahyun to stop seeing him." the butler explains, placing the jacket to cover her.

you nod, so this wasn't even the first time. the maid returns with soothing cream, applying the ointment over her bruised wrists. you stand idly by the couch, a little confused with what to do here.

you stare at dahyun's face, she's rather pretty is what you land on, before the man's voice brings you out of your focus.

"let me offer you a new shirt." you look down, and it does look like you just got into the ring with rocky, blood-dried splotches all over. the butler disappears before you can even say no.

with a folded new shirt, linen and italian, goodness these people have too much money, you shuffle into a bathroom.

changing into it quickly, eyeing all the towels and expensive soaps on the counter. you fix yourself up and exit, seeing the butler and maid still crowding around the girl.

"i, i really should leave. i'm sorry." the butler and maid are still trying to get you to stay, to offer some reward, but really all you want to do is leave this hellscape. unfamiliar faces, with unfamiliar mannerisms, its all too much.

--

"she saved me from a sleazy guy at a bar." dr. yoo jots it down.

"and you?"

"i, i guess i did?"

"you guess?"

"i, yes, i saved her from the sleazy guy." dr. yoo nods.

the ticking sound comes back clearer in your ear. the repetitive ticking feels like tumbling down a hill, imminent and quick swift death.

"let's move on then, how did you two start dating?"

"dahyun was insistent on paying me back for the bar, kept telling me she needed to." you offer.

dr. yoo nods, another scribble along the notepad. then she pulled the file from her desk, and two separate questionnaires werefilled out.

"and it says here, you both attended the same university." ever since dahyun found out you two attended the same university, she began urging you for dinner.

you tried very hard to say no, but in the quad, down the main academic path. she just kept finding you, like a needle in a haystick, she always managed to pick you out from the hundreds of students.

if she wasn't so nice about it, you might have considered it creepy.

"yes, brown." you nod.

"lovely school, my friend's alma mater." dr. yoo comments and lifts her head once more from the notepad.

"how's your sex life?"

you see dahyun's feet uncross and cross again. while you start tapping your foot again.

"we haven't done it," dahyun begins, "in a long while."

dr. yoo nods, and turns to you. "how does that make you feel?"

"i'm not sure."

dr. yoo nods again, dahyun's feet uncross and cross again. the clock's still ticking on the wall.

you are sure it's non-judgmental, it just makes you aggravated, like you're being lectured on how to love.

dahyun can't remember the last time you two have cherished each other. dinner's filled with delicious food, to cover the absence of enticing conversation.

being married to the point of small talk, has drained you both more than you wanted to admit.

"this is still the first session, so let's start with simple exercises. try and vocalize your appreciation for each other. this can be as simple as: i appreciate you doing the dishes today. remember, speaking the unspoken words can change your relationship for the better." dr. yoo stands up, offering you both a handshake and walking you both out her office.

--

"i have to get back to work." you comment, letting dahyun walk in front of you. she nods at that, you both are busy people, even though it's important to try and fix your breaking relationship, you both have jobs to do.

"i'll see you for dinner?" she says as you open her car door, holding a hand over her head as she sits.

"yes, dinner." she nods at you, wanting you to say more. you want to as well, a little unsure.

"thank you, for being here today." she starts, staring up into you, you smile lightly back at her, dahyun's still got that warm eye smile that makes your heart burst.

"you as well dahyun." you lean your head down a bit, "charlie, get her to her office safely." he nods from the rear view. and with that you close her door. watching the car roll away from the sidewalk.

it's weird to have to see a professional for marriage counseling, but in your heart, you do want to fix things with dahyun.

sweet dahyun who is always so concerned with everyone's wellbeing; often neglecting her own. the rest of the afternoon, you try and focus on work, feeling downright awful about how your relationship has disintegrated.

--

"dahyun? i'm home." you enter the brownstone, a little more excited to be home. she's in the kitchen, an adorable brown bear apron over top.

"hey, i'm making pasta tonight." she's smiling.

"need help?"

"no, i should be good. could you set the table?" you leave the kitchen, entering the wine pantry, grabbing one that you know she loves. as well as two glasses, a gift from her parents.

dahyun's walking out with bowls of pasta, surprised to see the bottle in hand.

you begin pouring them into the two glasses, passing one to her, she thanks you quietly, placing down the bowls, and returning to the kitchen. you follow after her, grabbing knives and forks and napkins.

she's busy with another dish, and you hum to yourself, cleaning the silverware while waiting for her.

"damn it. fuck fuck fuck." dahyun's hand jerks back against the pot, her hand instantly going to hold it. you drop the silverware in the sink, quick strides towards her. she burned herself with the pot.

"dahyun, let me see." there are tears in her eyes, and she's shaking her head, she's always been so dismissive of her own pain. you take her hand gently, looking at it. it's definitely bad, red skin over top, hot to the touch. "let's run it under cold water, okay?"

she nods, even though there's tears in her eyes, and all she wants to do is just shrink into herself.

you run the water cold, feeling for it before letting it run over her burned finger. the tears in her eyes are still there, threatening to spill out.

then dahyun cries out. "i'm so stupid, i can't even cook a simple dinner." her tears are falling, much like the water over the hurt finger. like letting the pain rain out from her heart.

"oh dahyun, no you aren't stupid, you never were." you hug her tightly, letting her head fall to your shoulders, quietly crying against your shirt. she cries even harder at that, an anguish cry out for help,

you feel your own tears spring up. how you hate seeing dahyun cry.

"how is it?" you ask, pulling her away, looking at the finger under the water. it's less red, still there but it looks better.

"hurts." she pouts.

"let me go grab some ointment, stay here okay?" you leave, turning down the hallway to the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for ointment cream to sooth the pain.

you return quickly, gently dabbing the cream over her finger with a q-tip. letting out a low hiss, and you apologize quickly, letting her relax a bit before continuing to spread it around.

"okay?" you step back, throwing away the q-tip.

"it's good, thank you." then she slips away to finish dinner. you stand by letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding, with every bit of your heart, you hope that dahyun wants to work this out as much as you do.

--

"hello, come on in." dr. yoo's now a familiar face, always a warm if not stoic face. never showing signs of disinterest or much of an opinion, you begin to wonder what it takes to be a professional therapist.

"thank you." you let dahyun ahead of you, her sitting in the left armchair, while you sit on the right. fixing your blazer as you sit with one leg over the other. eyes watching dr. yoo in anticipation.

"how are you both doing?" she starts, that same montblanc in hand, a new shirt, dark blue and glasses hanging on her nose.

dahyun looks to you.

"we're doing okay." you offer, a little smile on your face.

"and you?" dr. yoo turns her head towards dahyun.

"we're doing better." dahyun fiddles with the band-aid over her finger. your eyes linger on it, a reminder of the small act of affection.

"lovely, last time you both mentioned that sexual intimacy had not happened in some time. has that changed since our last session?"

dahyun coughs into her hand, sinking into her armchair. you look away from her.

"no, it hasn't changed." dahyun speaks softly, like she's confessing a sin. you fold your hands over each other.

dr. yoo nods, another line written.

"how is work-life balance for you two?" dr. yoo stares into you, you sit up again.

"it's fine, the normal 9-6pm work day." dr. yoo jots that down. the clock continues to tick in your ears.

"what about you?" dahyun stares at the floor.

"it's okay, usually after work i'll unwind with some wine or television series." dahyun's always been so absorbed with her dramas, often asking you to join her to watch them. you often decline with the pre-tense of overflowing work from the day.

"ah yes, you mentioned you are a wine enthusiast." dahyun nods, wine has always been something she indulged in, you don't share the same love for the drink. finding it all a bit too much for yourself.

"could you tell me how that started?" your eyes go wide a bit, you never bothered to ask dahyun that, just assuming she's always enjoyed it.

"my late father used to own a winery, when i was able to start drinking he started training me as a sommelier." you knew of mr. kim's obsession with wine.

multiple wine cellars across his basement, walls lined with rows of wooden aisles, each row lined with bottles filling the basement. often times you snuck into the basement with dahyun sharing kisses and giggles away from the prying eyes of her parents.

"sorry to hear that mrs. kim, that's lovely to hear that you still has a passion for wine." dr. yoo continues, letting the words fly across the notepad. you uncross and cross the other leg over.

"and you mentioned you were a tennis enthusiast, how did that start?" dr. yoo's eyes are still on the notepad, pen quickly running across the page. you lean forward a bit.

"my friend sam, used to sneak us into the tennis bubble after work, when all the people left the country club. and we would play for hours." dr. yoo nods, more lines filling across the page.

"you never told me it was because of sam, you said it was just a hobby you had." dahyun comments, eyes on you, a little suprised at the conversation.

"i couldn't afford tennis equipment, too expensive." you explain.

dr. yoo continues to write as you and dahyun talk.

"but all those times you came to the country club, you offered to pay for the tab." dahyun leans into you a bit, you let your eyes wander over the name plaque on dr. yoo's desk.

"had to work overtime to pay it off." dahyun sinks back into her chair.

"and dahyun, you seem suprised, how does this make you feel?"

she looks back at her hands.

"i feel awful, i didn't know it costed that much for you." you return your gaze to her, watching the anguish in her eyes.

you wish you didn't feel ashamed about your financial situation, but every second spent with the kims was another jab at your own social status.

"i'm sorry dahyun, i kept it from you because i didn't want you to treat me differently." you shrink a bit, pulling the blazer a bit tighter. eyes falling to the floor naturally.

"and i'm sorry too, for never noticing." dahyun speaks it softly, you barely register the words.

you just nod, letting her hand hold yours. you can't bring yourself to look at her, too ashamed that you feel like you have to hide yourself from the woman you devoted your life to.

you begin to think about the early days of dating dahyun, days filled with anticipation of seeing her. constantly checking your account for how much you could expend on your paycheck, often stretching it for a simple date.

often on the weekends, the kim's visited the country club, the managers all fussing over them, pampering them with free items, as if the rich needed more free item, it used to make you angry.

but never dahyun, a sweet girl built upon integrity and honesty, always offering to pay. treating you with respect that most members of the country would never do, them often throwing towels or other trash at you to pick up. and with gritted teeth, you always do, remembering you needed this job.

"so you both met often at the country club?" dr. yoo cuts into your thinking, pulling you out of your memories. one's that are filled with happiness and anger, all in the same bunch. anger at the rich, but happiness at seeing that beautiful smile in person.

"yes, i worked there, and dahyun's family were well known members there." you explain, squeezing dahyun's hand in yours.

--

"2 o'clock, the kims." your head snaps up from the tennis magazine you're reading. and there you can see your supervisor and your supervisor's supervisor crowding around the kim's.

especially dahyun's mother, she was always more prone to fawning at the attention that the staff would shower them in.

"stand up!" you read from your supervisor's mouth, then he goes back to smiling fakely at the kim's probably hoping to pick at their pockets later when they're far too tipsy from all the champagne they bathe in.

"one day i'm going to strangle him." you side whisper to sam as you both bow at the family.

"not if i get to him first." sam side whispers back, smiling at the kim's. continue to bow at them as they walk across the lobby to the courts. squeaky new tennis shoes on the marble floor.

"hey! you work here!" that familiar voice., you've been trying to avoid her since she found you in the quads hanging out with sam. insistently trying to get you to let her pay you back for the bar.

"hi miss, glad to see you are doing better." sam walks away, citing a need for a bathroom break, but you know better with the way he playfully walks away.

"you still haven't said yes to letting me pay you back."

"because you don't have to pay me back, i just did a nice deed."

"and you should be rewarded." you just sink back into your stool. letting her lean over the desk. "well as kim dahyun, a prized patron here, i order you to follow me to the courts."

"the courts?"

"yes, i want to play." you stand up, heading into the back to get that signature tennis racket that she loves so much, specific engraving of her name etched on the neck of the racket. "grab another one!" she shouts from the desk. you grab a generic one, one that still costed way more than a month's paycheck. placing both racquets under your arm.

"here's what we're going to do, three games, if i win three, i get to pay you back for the bar, dinner on me.

"miss dahyun, that really isn't neccessary."

"it's my wish, and you can't deny a patron's wish here."

so you get beaten, pretty badly, 0 - 3. with you sweating and falling on your back, breathing heavy as dahyun grins from the other side of the court. letting out a loud laugh.

"dinner on me, i'll drag you there myself if i have to!" dahyun's still bouncing a tennis ball with her racket while you recover your breath, all you can do is lift an arm to give her a thumbs up.

--

"well i am afraid our time is up for today, please schedule a session again soon." dr. yoo offers a light smile, and walks you both out of the door. letting the heavy door close behind you. you look at dahyun, she hasn't looked at you since the confession.

you walk her to her car, "dahyun, i really am sorry for hiding it from you. i just didn't want money to affect us."

she stares at your blazer, it's buttoned, the same button she stitched on a couple weeks ago.

"but it does, doesn't it?"

"money?" you stop to think about it, as much as you tried to let it not be a determining factor in your relationship with dahyun.

it really does bleed into your relationship, leaving you paralyzed with fear that she'll leave you.

when you first met the kim's for an official dinner introduced as dahyun's girlfriend, you spent hours with sam trying to find a decent hand-me-down outfit for the dinner.

they were not impressed to say the very least, you had no proper dinner manners. confused your soup spoon with the dessert spoon. nearly knocking wine onto mr. kim.

"i think it did, for a very long time." you open the door for dahyun, letting her in, hand covering her head as she sits inside. you walk over to the driver's side, sitting inside. "i wanted to prove myself to your family, but mostly to you."

"you didn't need to prove anything to me." she says, hands gently grabbing yours. you feel your heart sink a bit.

"it sucked, seeing all your friends get gifted lavish trips and designer bags, while all i could afford to do was cook you homemade dinners." you explain, thinking back your university days, meeting dahyun's friend.

"but that's what they didn't have." she counters. "all the homemade gifts, it was just gifts with enough value to hold each other over."

you really did try your best, with limited budget and often asking for favors. you did your best to offer the best anniversary, valentine's, and birthday gifts.

all of which were intended to express your love for her, spending hours decorating homemade cakes, learning how to cook dinners for two. renting cars to go on road trip, all of which you happily experienced with dahyun.

"i wanted to be someone you could confidently show off to your friends." you think back to dahyun's birthday parties.

open bars, waiters and a massive table filled with gifts for her. all you could do was stare in wonder at the exuberant gifts, all the while you would shrink into yourself, trying to hide your embarrassment watching her open your gifts.

"do you? did you...resent me for it? having money i mean." dahyun drops the question you've been trying so hard to ignore. it's been plaguing your mind lately, how you think about how hard you tried, giving your all into your work for an ounce of validation from the kim's.

validation that you never seem to get.

"no, never. never you, you were the only person i didn't resent." you smile at her, genuinely, and she smiles back. you're glad you met her, even if the circumstances have made your life complicated.

"for the record, i was always confident in showing you off, because i knew who you were in your heart." you give her hand a squeeze as you drive home.

--

"another hour please, i'll pay triple." you say, staring at dr. yoo.

"i'm sorry mrs. kim, but i have another appointment." she stands up, trying to walk you out of the room, and when the door opens, there stands two woman on the other side.

"sorry for the delay, mrs. and mrs. park."

"no worries, dr. yoo, sana and i don't mind." the two woman nod at you, before sitting in the same chairs that you and dahyun were sitting just seconds ago.

"i'm sorry mrs. kim, but really, we don't have more time today, schedule another appointment soon." and dr. yoo closes her heavy wooden door.

you nod solemnly, "dr. yoo, i'm sorry for my behavior." you explain, a bit embarrassed now.

"no need, i understand. go check up on mrs. kim." she just nods and gives your shoulder a pat, closing the door again.

now you stand in the office lobby, with a crying dahyun in a chair.

you sink to your knees, eyes staring up at her. her hair like curtains to her face, concealing the quiet sniffles and sobs that she's letting out.

"dahyun, darling?"

the tears keep falling, staining her dress pants, you hold her shaky hands. as she speaks to you, holding her breath here and there to control her emotions. "you never told me."

"i know, i didn't want to burden you." rubbing at her hands to sooth the pain in her heart.

"but isn't that what we're here for, to shoulder each other's burdens." she cries louder, a couple in the office look over, but you don't care right now. you brush the tears away.

"we are, i just, i didn't know how to tell you."

"but he, he did all that to you, and you didn't tell me. he's my own father."

"i know, i am sorry."

"let's go home please, i want to talk at home." you nod, letting her walk to the car, following her footsteps closely.

--

dr. yoo welcomes you both into her office, getting familiar with the diptyque roses candle burning lowly on the desk.

"mrs. and mrs. kim, please have a seat." dahyun smiles as she sits down, a new pair of glasses hanging on her nose.

"new glasses?" you ask.

dr. yoo smiles at that, pushing up the glasses. "yes, new! just got them yesterday. you smile, dr. yoo has become a familiar and friendly face with you and dahyun. almost like she's a friend, almost.

"shall we get started?" she looks up at you two, that same notepad in hand and the montblanc.

you both nod in sync.

"so, how have you both been?"

"good." dahyun smiles a bit, letting her arm lay along the armchair, eyes brighter than usual. you smile at that.

"and you?"

"we're doing better, i'm happier." dr. yoo write it along a new line, a light smile on her face.

"that's lovely to hear, could you explain why?" dr. yoo picks her head up, watching you explain how life has been. there's been a shift at home, dahyun and you having more time to go on dates instead of tensed dinners filled with the sounds of silverware.

"we spend more time together, having lunch together, and dinner's have become fun to cook together." dr. yoo nods at that, more words written along the notepad, you share a warm gaze at dahyun. her eyes smiling in that way you love so much.

"i haven't asked this before, but how are the in-laws?"

you immediately frown, thinking about the pretentious man that was dahyun's father. a dicator in the family, ruling with an iron fist and often giving you trouble for growing up "different." as he so nicely put it.

you often remember dinner's with the kims filled with biting your tongue and just letting snide comments go by, even dahyun's mother had no say whenever he made uncomfortable jokes.

"i don't think dahyun's parents liked me much, especially her father." you sit back, continuing your thoughts about the demanding man.

"could you expand on that?"

"i didn't grow up rich, which was the biggest thing he disliked, he didn't think i was a good fit for dahyun." you explain, often remembering the side comments that her father would make when dahyun couldn't hear.

"and did you know about this?" dr. yoo turns to dahyun.

"yes. he was adamant about me breaking up with her but i never did." that you didn't know. you always assumed that it was just sly comments towards you, but never did mr. kim outward display his disdain towards you to dahyun.

you button up your jacket. dr. yoo continues to write across her page, leaving you both to sit and think about dahyun's words.

"understood, do you think dahyun's parents affected your relationship with dahyun?" you think about the question, how loaded it all is, you cannot even begin to explain how suffocating being around him was.

family dinners spent trying to escape into the bathroom so he would stop pestering you about your business ventures, or the capital that you had under your belt. you just shudder whenever it becomes holiday seasons.

fearful of the power that mr. kim had over you, one of his last wishes before he passed away was upending his entire gambling debt onto you.

it had become a hold over you, that he would only support the love that you had for dahyun if you were able to help pay off his debt. it became a huge burden on your shoulders, conjuring up a plan to reach financial freedom and success without hindering dahyun's future.

one that you wanted to support from day one, pushing her towards her goal of becoming a fashion designer, every day you suffered at the hands of her father, letting his debt take over your life, all to prove your devotion to dahyun.

and it hurt, to shoulder this weight alone, you always had shouldered the weight of the world on your shoulders to begin with.

"yes, unfortunately. dahyun's father, he. he told me that by taking on his gambling debt before he died, that he would allow me to marry dahyun." you explain, feeling your shoulders release tension.

dr. yoo continues to write fervently, eyes on the page, but a slight nod here and there. you can feel dahyun's gaze on your face, one in disbelief and utter shock. you turn to look at her, meeting her blank eyes.

more than anything, you beg for dahyun to understand, to really understand where you are coming from. a whole life you lived having to make opportunities for yourself, little to no support from others. fighting tooth and nail just to prove that you are worth it. that you are deserving of success and love.

"were you aware she took on your father's debt?" dr. yoo looks to dahyun, not missing a beat or letting any inflection slip in her tone.

"i wasn't. i wasn't even aware he had debt to begin with. what? sorry. um, what? no sorry, how much?" dahyun turns to you, trying to understand all the information that has just been dumped onto her.

"50 million." you sigh, just thinking about the figures. spending late nights calculating interest, and ways to even pay off the large sum of money.

"50? million?" dahyun stands up suddenly, you stand up too. watching her bewildered eyes scan across the room, trying to control her breathing, watching the clock, watching the blue in the reds in the carpet. holding herself as she walks out of the room.

you stare at the open door, the sight of dahyun turning and sinking into a chair.

dr. yoo stands up.

"mrs. kim, perhaps we should end this session here today. dahyun seems to be shutting down."

--

you and dahyun are standing on both ends of the table, her eyes filled with tears as she glares at you.

"you don't think i recognize money-obsessed? you think i can't recognize my father turning you into him? that's all i can see! our marriage is falling apart and you have become my father and i've become my own mother!"

"dahyun, please, all i wanted was to marry you, he forced his hand, i didn't know what else to do." you can feel yourself shaking a bit, your heart racing as you both stand on opposite ends of the room.

"you should have told me." dahyun arms are crossed as she stares you down.

"i didn't want to tarnish the image of your father. i just wanted to love you, and if that was the final condition to marry you, i would do it.." you throw your arms around, frustrated with all this confrontation.

"his gambling debt costed us years of our marriage, can't you see? all this time you wanted to prove yourself to him, he just used you to fix his own problems." dahyun uncrosses her arms, voice reverberating around the large dining room.

"i thought, i thought it would, make him okay with me." your hands drop to your face as you cry into your hands. dahyun stops and walks over to you, wrapping her arms around you, holding you tightly.

"oh darling, i wish you didn't care so much for him opinion." she softly rubs your hair, rubbing circles into the back of your chest as you cry freely. for the first time in a long time, you feel the exhaustion, sadness, yearning all come crashing through your body.

"i wish i didn't too." through long cries in between you finally vocalize it.

"but you love me? isn't that why you did all this?" she questions, a thought thats been plaguing her mind. do you still love her? do you still have the same passion for her you once declared openly to the world? do you still mean each vow you said to her as your hands held hers?

"i do, more than anything else in the world, i love you. my words can only show so much of it." you lift your head up, wiping her tears as she wipes yours.

a small smile on her lips, it's all so stupid.

"show me." she stops crying for a bit, eyes glimmering with hope. she stares at you, in that way you love so much.

"show you?" you try and stop the tears, getting a clearer view of her face.

"show me how much you love me." she says crashing her lips into yours, pulling you forward, your feet nearly stumbling as you wrap your arms around her waist. "show me."

she whispers against your lips, like a spell, you nod and grab a hold of her, rushing you both into your bedroom. you try and show her, that the passion you have for her has always been there, and always will.

--

"mrs and mrs. kim!" dr. yoo invites you in, a warm light shining into the room. you both get seated, while dahyun lets go of your hand.

"i know last time, we had a bit of an outburst, how has that been?" dr. yoo stares at you both, notepad in hand.

"we resolved it." dahyun says confidently.

"resolved it?" she stares at dahyun. dahyun just nods.

"and you? what do you think?"

"we resolved it." you nod back, smiling at dahyun.

"alright, that's lovely to hear. so to follow up, how is sexual intimacy going?" dr. yoo notes the light blush on your faces, unwilling to look at her or even each other.

"it's, it's um, it's good." dahyun starts and coughs a bit, shuffling her feet.

"and you?"

"it's good. very good." you reply, and dahyun slaps your arm, trying to get you to shut up. "oh i see." dr. yoo writes along a new line of her notepad. eyes reviewing her notes so far, comparing previous sessions with this one.

"is there more we should discuss?" dr. yoo comments, eyes lifting off the page again, a light smile upon her face.

"no, i don't think so." dahyun nods at your words, you smile at her. and she shares that same eye smile that you love so much right back.

"right then, well, these sessions are on a as-needed basis. so let me say this in the nicest way possible. i hope we never have to meet in this room again. although my door is always open." dr. yoo gives you both a wink as she ushers you both outside. you wrap your arm around dahyun's shoulder, a little smile on your face.

you hold onto dahyun just a little tighter.

--

a/n: genuinely had so much trouble with this fic, but it has come to fruition so i'm happy regardless! had to do research on marriage counseling and i hope it is obvious but this is fictional and i am not a licensed therapist so there will be inaccuracies. also shoutout to @cry4mina who listened to me word vomit my troubles with this fic <3 please listen to the song as well as look up the meaning of the song!! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!!

[cephalopodfrills]

I finally managed upload my recording of the "Emily Temple Cute's Pasta Kitchen" panel from Naka-kon this year. The guests from Emily Temple Cute and Melody BasKet, Ohashi-san and Abe-san, provided a behind the scenes look at the designing and manufacturing process for these brands. The presentation included a look at design sketches, rejected colorways, design mock-ups, and a video from the factory where their designs are produced.

There is a full English transcript of the recording below the cut. Unfortunately, I was unable to transcribe the guests' original Japanese responses due to my own lack of fluency in the language.

Suzanne: Hello and welcome everybody to Emily Temple Cute’s Pasta Kitchen. I was told to let everybody know, for those wanting to participate in the stamp rally, there’s stamps near the door that you can stamp on the way out…with a helpful guy back there and a lil fancy stamp rally sign — Look at his little stamp dance!

We are joined here by the CEO of Emily Temple Cute, Abe-san, as well as Emily Temple Cute’s lead designer, Ohashi-san, and I think everyone here is in for a special treat because we are going to get a peek behind the curtain and they are going to outline how the proverbial pasta is made. They are going to go into all the steps that they go in as far as conceptualizing, designing, planning, patterning, manufacturing – just all of the details, so I think that is a real special treat.

And here we have an overview of the steps of production and so we’ll allow our guests here to elaborate on that. 

They’ve outlined seven steps in which all of the slides are going to be going over those: planning, designing, pattern-making, sample-making, preparation for the manufacturer, the actual manufacturing process, inspection/touch-up, and dispatch and marketing. So we’ll be going into detail on all of those.

And here is a general flowchart of all the steps involved in that process.

Ohashi-san: Hello! So, I’m not the designer, I’m the lead director. I consult with the designer about the direction we’re going in terms of the overall concept and how we decide to go forward with a design. The designer gives several concept proposals, several ideas, and, basically, the ideal design is picked out from several of those suggestions and we move forward from there.

I would like to go ahead and in this slide introduce something that is on display here at the con at the shop. This is the design concept for one of the pieces of clothing that’s sold there and I would like to go through the whole flow of how it was created.

So, for Emily Temple Cute designs, we always go with a strawberry motif. For this year, we kind-of had to think quite a bit about which sort of strawberry we were going to go with. For this year, we wanted to go with the shape of a dress as shown on the right-hand side of the presentation.

We had to think in-depth about how the pattern would appear on this dress. We decided to emphasize the sleeves and the hem of the dress, as you can see near the bottom of the dress and around the sleeve area. That’s where we decided to emphasize the pattern of the strawberries.

Basically, for this year, we got nine concepts presented as shown on the presentation. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. We decided to go with the one with the star, with the blue [gingham check] and with strawberries on it.

As the designer and the illustrator were coming up with various sketch-ups and concepts, we had the designer go ahead and create these dress mock-ups for reference to choose out from.  We had one dress style for the traditional dress style design on the left-hand side and also camisole dress styles which are on the right-hand side that came up as key choices.

The reason we chose concept number one, on the left-hand side, was because our previous dress [that] was shown back in May at the previous con and right after we had that May presentation we were immediately contracted — or, decided to participate again — and we decided to go with a strawberry motif again for this year’s Naka-kon.

We decided to go with a very flexible design that is designed to have an adjustable waist area so that people of various sizes could enjoy using this dress and also have an open front for ventilation.

We also chose design concepts number eight and twelve. Those are more casual, everyday, comfortable designs. Designs that aren’t just for formal occasions; they can be worn more on a daily basis. We chose those for that concept as well.

If you guys aren’t aware, Japanese summers are incredibly humid and hot. We decided to go with these dresses for something that could be worn even in those hot Japanese summers.

For concept number eight, a lot of lolita fashion dresses tend to be very tight around the neck area, which is not very good for ventilation, especially in hot environments, so we deliberately decided to go with a more open concept for better ventilation in the hot summers. We decided to go with something called [unintelligible], which translated means a cool under texture, which is a special kind of fabric that is better for ventilation and is supposed to feel cooler to the touch in a hot environment. [Transcriber’s note: I believe Ohashi-san was describing a moisture-wicking lining.]

Taking into account the time at which it will arrive at the customer and making sure that not only is it a pretty design, but it is also something that can be worn comfortably no matter what kind of hot or humid environment you are in. We took special care when selecting fabric since Japan tends to have a very distinct four seasons, you know, very hot summers and cold winters. We decided to be very thoughtful in terms of "What season will this arrive with the customer?", "When will the customer be wearing this?", making sure to choose the appropriate fabric for the season.

Emily Temple Cute — this particular style — isn’t necessarily lolita fashion, it’s more of the traditional cute dress fashion is what its positioning is in terms of styles. However, we went with this design so that it could be worn as a lolita style dress. Also, the accessories, the [headband] as well, were designed so that it would match that aesthetic.

The colors that we adopted for this year’s dress design are the top four [on the slideshow presentation]. Not even the Japanese customers have ever seen this slide before. This is the first time in our history that we have shown the concepts and patterns, the colors, that we did not go with on the bottom half of the slide, actually. 

Now, the reason we chose these four colors. First of all, the first one, obviously, when you think of strawberries you think of the color red. Red was a no-brainer in terms of the first one that we chose. And, thinking of red, another cute color is absolutely is pink. We definitely thought that red and pink will be mandatory when designing this dress. Those are the first two.

In terms of the colors that we didn’t choose, the reason for that, if you look at the left-hand side, the dark crimson red and navy blue on the bottom-left. In terms of procurement date, the time at which these dresses would arrive for our customers in Japan, would have been around April. Basically, spring is the color of rejuvenation and brightness. We decided that the dark crimson and the dark navy color on the bottom-left didn’t match the season, which is why we decided to exclude those colors.

For the Emily Temple Cute [brand], we do not have an official or dedicated store. However, in Tokyo and Osaka we have branch stores where the designs are displayed and for sale. We chose the colors on the top because these are the ones that will stick out the most in the most aesthetically pleasing [way] when you see them lined up at the store with all the other dresses. We chose the colors to make sure that they’re complimentary with the color of the strawberry and make sure they don’t contrast or conflict a bit too much, especially in terms of looking at the pattern and compared to the dresses that would be displayed nearby or around it.

Next is pattern making. The professional pattern maker makes a mock-up or drawing diagram of the dress, how it’s kind-of laid out. We do something called a toiling process, where we don’t use the actual fabric that’s going to be used in the final dress but we use a temporary fabric to make a mock-up of the dress.

We create a mock-up of the actual dress, have them bring it back. Then we consult with the designer to make sure that this is what we’re looking for, make sure that the concept does look good when it’s in a 3D form. Once this check is done, making sure that everything looks good, we start using the actual fabric that will be used and then create the actual thing. 

So, the camisole dress — talking about that on this occasion — we have a model come over and actually do the fitting process, make sure everything looks good on an actual person. Checking the mobility, making sure that the person wearing the dress can be fully mobile in all the joints. And checking the final design overall, seeing that it looks good.

One point that we wanted to correct when we entered this stage of the production…if you look at the very bottom photo there, the print-out of the strawberry ended up being cut in half at the seam. We corrected the pattern because having the strawberry cut in half wasn’t aesthetically optimal. We went ahead and redesigned it so that the pattern would not be interrupted.

If you look at the top-right photo, the shoulder frills there, the initial concept wasn’t aesthetically pleasing to be blunt. We went through some different ideas with the designer, the patterner, and I to come up with a slightly better design to make it more aesthetically pleasing.

After all of those design phases are done, we’ve created the concept, we’ve corrected the concept to look like we want it to look like, we enter the manufacturing preparation phase. We begin the manufacturing by first consulting with the factory that will be producing the dress.

Abe-san: For the manufacturing and sewing section, I will go ahead and proceed with the presentation from here on out. Emily Temple Cute, when designing this clothing style, not only is all the designing process in-house, the factory is also in-house within the company. From the design process at the very beginning all the way to delivering the product to the final customer, all of that is done under one company. We don’t outsource anything. Basically, the manufacturing process is as shown in the presentation. The design is received from the design team and the people on the factory floor go ahead and start the production process as shown.

At the very end, we do the inspection and touch-up process for the dress that’s manufactured. We do multiple thorough inspection checks to make sure that the dress is up to our standards. However, this clothing is all handmade so, obviously, it’s human hands sewing and doing all this work. Inevitably, approximately one out of one hundred clothes that we manufacture at the factory end up not being up to our personal quality standards. That’s why we do such thorough inspections, not only on the factory floor but at the store itself when the product does finally arrive, to make sure every single piece of clothing that does enter the customers’ hands is up to our standards.

I recorded a video of actually what it looks like on the factory floor. I’d like to go ahead and present that to everyone here.

Suzanne: We were having some issues with our audio earlier, so hopefully you guys can hear this okay.

Abe-san: We’ll go ahead and show the video while I explain. First, we print the design onto the fabric itself as shown. This is a collaboration item with RoseMarie seoir. This is an Evangelion-themed [pattern] that you’re seeing right here. Ok, so, initially the pattern is printed onto paper and then it’s transferred onto the fabric. Said fabric is rolled as shown. This machine unifies them into a certain length.

We use computer-assisted design in the next process. We start the cutting process after correcting the design to the factory’s specifications. This product is a CAM [?] brand, themed brand, I believe. An automatic cutter cuts all these individual parts.

This is the sewing process. The fabric that has been cut into the individual parts of the dress are all stitched as shown using human hands and this machine here. What you just saw there was an Emily Temple Cute fabric being sewn. Finally, an iron is used to get rid of any wrinkles on every single piece of dress. 

English Translator: And the text says, before shipping out there’s a final thorough inspection done on every single piece of dress. 

Abe-san: Finally, they are packed into the appropriate packing and shipped out to the stores.

Alright, next slide please.

Next we’ll talk about the dispatch, or shipping-out, and marketing portion of things. The packaging process involves folding up all of those completed dresses to prepare for shipping and to attach the appropriate product tag. And from there it ships out to the appropriate store or online storage. That’s the general process of how one of our dresses is delivered to the final destination. Sometimes there are additional processes, like extra stitching or decorations attached, accessories, etc.

Next slide.

We’re going to go ahead and present another video. This is an introduction video showing the Melody BasKet brand.

[Transcriber's note: A combined version of the 'Brand Story' and 'lettre de @m' videos from the Melody BasKet youtube channel was played. I have embedded the videos below for you convenience.]

Emily Temple Cute also has a separate brand called Melody BasKet, as you saw in that introduction video just now. The concept behind Melody BasKet is that it came out of a children’s artbook or storybook. The person who wrote the story for us was Novala-sensei who also wrote Shimotsuma Monogatari (Kamikaze Girls) as well.

Some of our clothes are not made necessarily in Japan. We would like to have full transparency   into the locations where we manufacture our dresses. One of our factories is in Akita prefecture in Japan. Now, tragically, in the past 30 years the sewing and textile industry has declined 80% in Japan. The reason we chose this factory in Akita to manufacture the Emily Temple Cute brand is to preserve, to the best of our ability, the manufacturing of dresses like these in Japan.

So, the video that we showed previously only showed a handful of the steps involved in producing a single dress. There’s a lot more involved. Generally speaking, for the average dress there’s approximately 3,000 steps involved until the final product is created. However, for the Emily Temple Cute brand we go over 10,000 different steps until the final dress is complete.

One of the things we’re passionate about for the Emily Temple Cute brand is fostering the next generation of craftspeople who will be creating these dresses. We believe that it will ultimately be to the best benefit of the customer as well.

That is all.

[Applause]

Suzanne: Wow. That was really informative. We all have kind-of a general understanding of the difference between brand and off-brand or indie brands. Everyone who joins this fashions get it said over and over again how much work and detail goes into Japanese brand pieces that causes both the price and the quality to be elevated above what we might expect for regular clothing — certainly above fast fashion as well — and I think this really helps illustrate the amount of work that goes in to that and all of the processes and designs. I thought it was really interesting to see the colorways that they mock-up and consider. I think, overall, they made the best decision.

What I’m curious about — and I’ll field this to our guests here — is maybe, could you kinda drop like a little…just a theme or a motif of something that’s in the pipeline?

Ohashi-san: This is our second time ever participating in Naka-kon, since last year, and we have realized how much the American audience loves our designs. To give you a hint, we’ve really felt how much our American audience loves our products. We’re with something a little more pop-esque, a little more America-themed for our next idea.

Suzanne: Ooooo….Americana, maybe? I, for one, am always yearning for a pizza dress but I think they have already moved beyond Italian food.

Ohashi-san: I’ll take that into consideration.

Suzanne: Just pulling what few strings I can.

What really stuck out to me is, even a lot of other Japanese brands — like I know Angelic Pretty and, I think, Baby to a certain extent, have moved their production over to China. And a lot of them are really courting the Chinese market which has just exploded. I’m curious, is that also a market that you’re experiencing growth in and wanting to market towards? Or, like you mentioned before, with the Western perspective, are you just gearing more towards Europe and the West?

Ohashi-san: Yes, we are definitely aiming to expand into the Chinese market. But we are definitely also emphasizing creating a product that the American customer base would love, absolutely. And we are also targeting trying to get our foot into the European market as well. We’re still in the middle of analyzing the market and trying to reach our goal of getting our products internationally, making it available for our international audience.

One of our recent developments is that, for the American market, we’ve announced the plus size version of our dresses. And we are absolutely happy that so many people have been so positively receptive of that and very positive in terms of reaction. We would absolutely love to continue to improve our products with everyone’s — we are open to everyone’s feedback, suggestions, advice, comments, questions, etc. so that we can make our products and designs even better for everyone. 

Suzanne: Yes! And a great way to do that is – Lolita Collective, for last year’s Naka-kon, put together a survey collecting general information — size, style, fit preferences — from the Western and plus size community. We’ve created a very similar survey to continue collecting and refining that information. We send that directly over to our friends at Emily Temple Cute. The first batch was really helpful to them. So, with Ohashi-san’s mention of feedback and information, if you have any of that to contribute, Lolita Collective has posted that survey, I believe, to all our social media. It should be the link in our bio on Instagram and other places. So, if you haven’t filled out that survey, go ahead and do so because getting just as much data as possible so they can get the idea of: "Ok, what is the average size of our market?", "Who should we get this to fit?", "What is working?”, “What isn’t working?" is super helpful to us.

And, hopefully, that first survey we sent for that first year was a help for them and we really want this second one to help more.

Ohashi-san: Yes. Please, we would greatly appreciate it.

Suzanne: After the fashion show, there will be a more general designer Q&A. But because we have wrapped up their main talking points for the most part, we could probably take one or two questions from the audience as long as it’s probably a little bit tighter to the topic of what we discussed. More general questions for our guests can go to that Q&A panel. Which, we will be collecting those ahead of time! If you want to drop off any kind of question, go to the Emily Temple Cute booth in the vendor hall and submit that ahead of time for that Q&A. For now, I suppose we’ll just take one or two questions right here. You can come up and talk into the mic or, y’know, just raise your hand and yell at me.

We have someone, yeah.

Audience Member 1: I’ll come up to the microphone.

Suzanne: Sure, sure!

Audience Member 1: You mentioned that you didn’t want the strawberries cut off in the design at the seam. Do you have to change the scale of the design for your straight sizes versus your plus sizes?

Suzanne: Excellent question. I wonder that myself.

Ohashi-san: It is true because you’re using different fabrics sizes there – or types there – that the overall pattern of the dress might end up being slightly different. But we do take into consideration all of those fine details when producing our dresses. Our Japanese customers, as well, are especially acute about attention to detail and they do pay very close attention to that. For example, we are extra careful if it’s an animal-style pattern to make sure that the animal isn’t, due to the stitching, looking decapitated or anything like that. We do our absolute best to make sure that they look as pretty as possible and make sure that the animals aren’t in an unfortunate dismembered state due to the seams.

Suzanne: We definitely appreciate that attention to detail! My favorite little detail that I’ve noticed on this little laundry print is the tiny, tiny little raccoon that’s on the laundry bottle. I’m not entirely — it’s a little small, so I’m not entirely sure — I think it’s more of a raccoon dog, like, a Japanese one rather than an American one. But either way, both of them, like, wash their food and wash their hands – so they’re clean! That’s just my new favorite thing I wanted to gush about!

Does anyone have any questions? Yeah!

Audience Member 2: Hi! I wanted to say thank you, first of all, for your time. I was curious about the process between you and your illustrators. I was wondering what sort of mediums your artists tend to work in to design the final designs, whether it be digital illustration or more traditional work like watercolor?

Suzanne: That is a good question.

Ohashi-san: In terms of our textile designers, recently more and more – especially now – we use fully digital illustrators. However, for the small touch-ups, we go to the textile and printing level to make micro adjustments. For example, watercolor aesthetic or oil pastel, oil painting aesthetics, we actually do use actual watercolor and oil painting to do the final touch-ups in terms of those small details — making it look more non-digital. We do pay attention to the details like that for each and every pattern. What is the optimal way to get the final details and the final touch-ups in, what sort of medium we’ll use, we always take into consideration stuff like that.

Suzanne: Fascinating! Something that I was wondering when I was listening so intently to this presentation — this might be something Abe-san can answer — I’m wondering if there’s a financial incentive to stay all Japanese manufacturing? Either provided by the Japanese government or otherwise? Because I know that they have a lot of protective tariffs when it comes to other industries, and I’m wondering if there’s anything to help offset the additional cost of having it small-scale, having it local, from the Japanese government or otherwise?

Abe-san: We would love to have financial incentives like that from the government, but the reality is, no, it’s very difficult.

Suzanne: Well, I think that makes that commitment that much more meaningful. Because a lot of countries will have programs, protective tariffs, incentives…I think that represents a great commitment to values! What do you guys think?

[Applause]

Suzanne: Does anyone have any other questions about the design and manufacturing — do I see a hand? No? Oh! There’s a hand. There’s hands over there. You, in the glasses. You, in the — oh, wait, both of you are wearing glasses! Yeah, yeah — she raised her hand first! [laughs] In the black haori-looking thing.

Audience Member 3: In curating the brand’s image, are there certain pieces of art or themes that you stick to or do you consult what is currently on the shelves to then evolve your design?

Suzanne: Ok, for the rest of us who may have not heard that, that attendee’s question was “Are there motifs that Emily Temple Cute sticks to? Do they follow larger trends?”. Probably a more general query about when do they introduce a totally new motif versus following, maybe, what someone else is putting out? We’ll see what they say.

Ohashi-san: In terms of the popular series that we have in our line-up, obviously, we update it on an annual basis. However, we always love introducing new concepts and ideas into the market. We always try to come up with an idea of, like, “Wow! You’re gonna make that a dress? You’re gonna make that the theme?”. Something very unique or special, we always try to come up with something like that on a frequent basis.

I imagine, for example, the lady in the front row wearing that cereal themed dress is something that I imagine is very unique, for example, that we’re proud of. The future Emily Temple Cute concept that we hinted at is something that no one here has probably ever seen made into a dress pattern before. So please look forward to that in the future!

[Transcriber's note: I was the person wearing the cereal dress!]

Suzanne: And then, that other — in the green cosplay. You had a question? You can come up here or you can just try to project.

Audience Member 4: [Asks question in Japanese]

English Translator: Good Japanese!

Ohashi-san: I’m quite a fan of blue, myself.

Suzanne: Yes. Our attendee asked what Ohashi-san’s favorite color for a dress was. And I think that does track — I think she was wearing a lot of the blue the last time I saw her, last year, and this is in the same line [referring to the dress Ohashi-san is currently wearing].

Audience Member 4: I’m all for blue superiority.

Ohashi-san: [gives a thumbs-up]

Suzanne: But yes, very good Japanese. [pause] You can come up! Come up here, Susie.

Audience Member 5: So, yesterday, I bought one of the Emily Temple Cute dresses with the adjustable waist ribbons. I really like that because it’s very comfortable and I also think if my size changes a little bit, I can still wear the dress. Is that something you were thinking about when you were designing that feature?

Ohashi-san: Yes, so obviously, there are various body types around the world. We’ve designed our clothing to be beautiful no matter what type of body you have. We’ve designed and machined our clothing so that you can tighten your waist to make it look cute and you can also have it looser and still be able to look cute. 

We’re currently in the process of making even more designs where various body styles can be appreciated and look beautiful. I think everyone can agree that wearing these dresses and all sorts of various different styles of fashion is fun. We plan to continue to make different styles of clothing that everyone can have fun and enjoy dressing in in the future.

[Applause]

Suzanne: Yes, that’s wonderful! I, for one, am delighted to have a pasta dress that I can eat pasta in. I can go to Olive Garden and get those unlimited breadsticks. 

Oh, it looks like we have another question! Since it’s 12:29, that’ll probably be our last question. Any other questions, stop by the Emily Temple Cute booth and submit those and we’ll read them out for the Q&A later! But, go ahead, sir, and you can come up if you would like, as well.

Audience Member 6: How do you gauge interest in your dresses and decide on production quantities?

Suzanne: For those who might not have heard that gentleman, he asked how do they gauge how many dresses to make, production quantity, of a release?

Ohashi-san: Currently, the Emily Temple Cute brand, we go with a reservation/preorder type system. The reason for that is that we want to avoid situations where our dresses are sold out and someone who really wanted our dress wasn’t able to get one. We’ve designed it in this way to avoid that as much as possible. 

So, in manufacturing terminology, it’s a pull-type where the amount we manufacture is directly based on customer demands and orders. So that, for example, let’s say one color — in a traditional manufacturing system, if one color is particularly popular, that one gets always sold out. We wanted to avoid that as much as possible, which is why we went with the order system instead.

That’s the upside of that manufacturing system. However, the downside is that, obviously, there is a time delay between the customer ordering one of our dresses and it arriving at their doorstep. There is that time delay, which is the downside.

For the Naka-kon of this year, we decided to order products in a way that everyone can just immediately buy it on the spot to take home. However, in Japan, we do have that reservation system/preorder system where we do get feedback that the time between ordering one of our dresses and it arriving is like — y’know, you have to wait and that can be a bit frustrating. 

In the future, we would like to adopt a system where we can also produce more dresses ahead of time. In terms of the exact number we’re going to produce, I myself am still in the process of mulling over that and thinking “Ok, how many are we going to make?”.

Abe-san: One thing that I would like to add — as mentioned, we do primarily take on a format of an order-based system in terms of manufacturing. Similar to Toyota’s “just in time” production, we create the necessary amount of clothing at the necessary timing, just enough to meet our customer demand. 

Before we really worked on the Emily Temple Cute project and began this, the standard style for this industry was to create a certain amount of these dresses and anything that was left unsold would be put on sale. That would be the traditional style for the apparel industry. But, personally, we weren’t satisfied with the idea that some people pay X price, the full price, for our products while other people end up getting it for 50% off. That just didn’t feel right for me, personally. That’s why we went with the ordering system, so that certain people don’t end up with a massive bargain and other people do not. To avoid that, that’s why we chose this system.

Suzanne: Well, it seems they’ve successfully avoided the “bloodbath” model of releases that some other brands adhere to. I think all of the fans of Emily Temple Cute think that that system is worth the wait. What do you guys think?

[Applause]

Suzanne: And that wraps up this panel. Thank you so much Abe-san and Ohashi-san for joining us and giving us this unique look to see how the pasta is made. I have learned a lot and I hope you all have too! 

As I’ve said before, if you have any sort of leftover questions for our designers, and I think Misako as well, there will be a Q&A after the fashion show today. So swing by the Emily Temple Cute booth to see the final result of this 10,000 step production process and also drop off those Q&A questions for us there. I look forward to seeing you at the booth and thank you all so much for attending and for your very thoughtful questions.

[signedkoko]

I saw Charlie and Vaggie in your masterlist but there's no writing for them yet?? Well then I'll be the anon to change that!!

Could you do a plaronic oneshot/headcanon with Charlie and Vaggie (separately or together, whichever you prefer), where reader is the first resident at the Hotel? Think they were there before even Angel. Something about why they went there, how they get along with the others, etc. I'll leave it up to you!

Charlie X Reader X Vaggie [Platonic]

In which the two are happy to invite you to the hotel as their first resident. Reader is genderneutral.

It was an honest mistake

When Charlie was first looking for a spot, the hotel fell into her hands after being owned and neglected by the family

And in its disrepair, they needed someone who could help get it to hotel standards

That's where you came in! They saw your ad for interior design on TV once, and Charlie was quick to call you in to ask for your help

Vaggie wasn't so sure on the idea—not that you could do anything messed up—but she figured something as simple as interior design couldn't be that hard, right?

Either way, they had a lot on their hands, and Charlie was convinced hiring you would get a lot off their plate

When you arrived, you came prepared!

A huge book of samples, another with hundreds of paint colours, wood finishes, and inspiration booklets

But most curious of all, you were kind

You sat down with the two and asked all about their hotel—the first time Charlie had ever been prompted—rather than having to start first

Not only did you think it was a wonderful idea, but you offered to do the consultation free since it counted as 'charity' work

You were a self-owned company, and there was no such thing as 'charity' in hell, but you didn't need to tell them that; they seemed so full of hope

That evening, the two offer you a room to stay the night in, so you can get a feel for the vibe of the place

Unfortunately, when you awakened to several emails from your landlord saying you were being evicted for being past due, you realized you'd be on the streets

The worst part was telling them after they'd been so kind to you, and that's when Charlie offers for you to stay until you can get back on your feet

" It's okay! I mean, we can still hire you to work on the hotel, right? It's a long-term project! We can fund you until you finish! "

Besides, your prices aren't terrible, and they were already going to hire you, so why not?

It was a slippery slope from there, you helped them get all the rooms in order, helping customize as the 'first' guest, Angel, came to stay

Slowly but surely, it was assumed that you were also staying to get clean as well

Though it was called into question several times what exactly made you such a bad person in the first place?

" To be honest with you all, I was never an interior designer. "

You were just a talented scammer who lied about credentials to get a job

" Not that I planned on scamming you guys! I just, usually I'm hired by the wealthy, and you know... But I really do like interior design! I just never studied it. "

It comes as a surprise to most, but it explains a lot

In the hotel, you are closest to Charlie; who isn't! You are both creatives, and she was the one to welcome you so warmly

Vaggie is also a sweetheart, as much as she hesitates to get close to you

Though your muse is Alastor

He handles a lot of the transformative aspects of the hotel, and so you get used to making detailed maps and plans on how a certain area needs to look so he can fix it up for you

Of course, he always adds his own spin, which leaves you huffy

The only time you hadn't designed something was the mess of a bar, which Alastor insisted was 'state of the art' in his time

You let it slide, but very begrudgingly

Overall, you've become something of a 'permanent' designer for the hotel, mostly handling the customization of rooms

While your title of 'first guest' is in the air, the others still consider you such, and you do your best to stay out of trouble for Charlie

Besides, with the money you made, you're able to run your business from the hotel and can start working on getting certified as a designer!

Author's Note - I love these two! I agree, finally I can add something under their names on the list 🖤 Thank you so much for requesting!

[visual-sculptors]

Ex-McKinsey Designers Team - Visual Sculptors

[mrkified]

Surf’s Up! — 5. jeno’s pink speedo

JAEMIN wiped the sweat off his palms and finally mustered up the courage to knock on your door. it felt like 20 years before you opened the door, and he was a nervous wreck.

you opened the door and gave him a warm smile, “you made it! come in.”

you close the door behind him while you take his hand and guide him to the backyard. it was one simple absentminded gesture that wasn’t anything special, but to jaemin it had it his heart drop in shock.

jaemin wasn’t usually this much of a simp, especially given his age he was very mature and composed, but when it came to you it was like a different story. he met you a few months after his breakup with his longterm ex, and it was you who brought him out of the slump of being hung up over them. you both always had very short random encounters but jaemin always looked forward to them because it was time spent with you. since he met you at ocean view, he’s been pining for you ‘not-so-subtly’ — at least the people around you seem to think so, but thankfully not you. he wanted to make sure that this summer he finally made at move to prove his coworkers and friends wrong, that he could finally man up and take control of his nerves that held him back from you.

‘this summer was going to be different’ he etched those words into his brain as you brought him out to the sliding door that led into your backyard.

“here’s where i’ll be teaching you! i got it all nice and cozy just for you.” you let out a little laugh as you turned to him and lightly squeezed his hand. “how do you think we should start this?”

“um.. well i’m not sure how this works..”

could he be anymore awkward? he mentally cursed at himself while you quickly went to shoot out a reply.

“don’t worry! let’s start with these floaties, i’m going to put these on your arms after you change into your swimsuit.” you hand him a pair of training floaties that have a unicorn design on them, something that made him feel a little more embarrassed to be in this position with you, but at least you weren’t making fun of him.

you showed him to the bathroom and left him to change. he wasn’t sure about which swim apparel was appropriate to wear so he consulted the best two people he knew — sungchan and jeno. sungchan bought him dinosaur swim trunks while jeno.. bought him a speedo? what made matters worse is that it was bright pink. jaemin quickly put it away and decided to go with the dinosaur trunks.

he walked out of the bathroom and quickly met up with you in the backyard. you handed him the blown up floaties and helped him put them on. jaemin prayed you couldn’t hear how fast his heartbeat was beating as he slowly watched you put them on.

“there! now follow me, i’ll start you out on the shallow waters and then we can slowly work you up towards the more deeper end of the pool.” you explained while grabbing his hand again and takes slow steps into the pool. jaemin didn’t think it was so bad — at least until he got to the 3 feet mark. he felt himself slightly slip, and you both fell backwards. the floaties helped to keep his body up while you tried to get him to stand straight.

“jaemin — oh my god, are you okay?” you gave him a look of horror while he just laughed. “why are you laughing!?! you could have drowned” he couldn’t help but laugh at the frown you gave him.

“i’m fine don’t worry, let’s just start with the basics”

the rest of the lessons with perfectly (besides when jaemin almost drowned when he couldn’t get back to surface level but then he realized he could have just lifted his head up since he was just in the shallow water) and it was finally time to say goodbye. he was standing with you at the door as you two were saying your final goodbyes before he left.

“this was actually a lot of fun, i didn’t realize that i was missing out by not knowing how to swim” he scratched the back of his head. “thank you for today”

“of course jaemin! i had a lot of fun too! see you next friday.” you gave him one final wave while closing the door and he turned to head off back to his apartment.

✦ where you give your coworker jaemin swimming lessons while he tries to hide his crush on you.

prev | m.list | next

[TAGS] @j2upiters @junviadinho @p-d1ddy @busy-daydreaming02 @nanaxwi @nctrawberries @chaerinmin @wonwootakemyheart @lovesuhng @onlyhyunjin @girlz4jaem @flwrs4marklee @haechology @njmluvr @haechansbbg @roseangelxfuma @chernabogsbiggestfan @starfilledgaze @vantxx95 @sunghoonsgfreal @daegalfangirl

[NOTE] this was soooo bad chat i’m sorry 😞😞 posting the next chapter soon bc i actually cant bare to leave u guys with just this 💔

[love-archer]

More to love. . .

♡ pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 (You're here!) ♡

♡.Obey me!

♡♡.TW? SFW! Pregnancy, Fem!reader, Implied couple

♡♡♡. Two years brewing in my drafts 😵‍💫

. . . A S M O D E U S !

♡ Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust and embodiment of beauty, isn't typically associated with family life. Your fingers trace the lab report nervously. A baby. Your baby. His baby.

♡ That’s what’s whirling in your head as you stare at the lab report in the waiting room, fingers trace the laminated papers  nervously

♡ Would he accept this slowly or would he freak out? Wait, how can you tell him? Text? Drop it in a conversation randomly? Do those cute pregnancy reveal on Deviltube?

♡ The moment you decide to tell him is during a rare quiet evening in the Devildom. Asmodeus is meticulously applying his nightly skincare routine when you enter the bathroom, lab report clutched behind your back. "Darling?" His perfectly arched eyebrow raises, sensing something different in your demeanor. You slide the report onto his marble vanity, next to bottles of expensive serums and perfumes. His eyes widen, scanning the document. Silence. Then

♡ "PREGNANT?" His shriek could shatter glass. Dramatic reaction confirmed: tears sparkling like his favorite glitter eyeshadow  he launches himself into your arms. "A BABY? MY BABY? OH MY HELL!"

♡ His brothers will definitely hear this announcement. Lucifer will probably pinch the bridge of his nose. Satan would smack his door down, "Quiet down!". Mammon will immediately start calculating potential 'baby sponsorship' schemes with his modeling sessions. ♡ Asmodeus's excitement rapidly transforms into hyper-planning mode. ♡ Within days, he's calling every demon realm's top pediatric specialist. The pediatric specialists he consults aren't just doctors - they're the crème de la crème of the Devildom medical world. He has Solomon double-check their credentials and even gets Barbatos to recommend time-tested professionals who've dealt with human-demon pregnancies. ♡ He's ordering custom designer maternity wear for you (in matching sets, naturally). The maternity wardrobe he designs is EXTENSIVE. We're talking: silk robes with delicate demon realm embroidery, stretchy but luxurious dresses that "showcase your divine glow", custom pajama sets with his sigil subtly woven into the fabric, special occasion outfits for each milestone of pregnancy, even the undergarments are designer, because "comfort and style should never be compromised!"

♡ He's set into drafting elaborate nursery designs with themes ranging to "Royal Demon": Rich crimsons and blacks, with plush velvet and his signature roses to "Paradise Garden": Soft pastels with ethereal touches, butterfly motifs, and enchanted flowers that never wilt or to "Modern Devildom": Sleek lines with pops of neon, metallic accents ♡ Speaking of the nursery, with his never-ending favors to call in, he'd corner Leviathan or rather pester...

♡ "Leviiiii~ Don't you want to be the coolest uncle?" ♡ Finally, Leviathan would agree to use his brains and the cluttering materials in the ever-dim room to make a baby mobile. He'd throw ideas like Crystal flowers that catch and reflect light like anime sparkles or Something engraved with Asmodeus' mark in hot pink or one with a mirror....perhaps? ♡ From the moment pregnancy becomes real, Asmodeus persuades yoga into your monthly schedule after days with his sweet voice tugging you off the couch to pin you in his bed, cuddling and his hands rubbing your hips, his fleeting kisses on your cheek, "My darling.......Tension isn't good for either of you. Let me take care of those muscles."

♡ His idea of prenatal yoga is pure luxury - transforms his room into a private studio with scented candles, silk cushions, and ambient lighting. "Ambiance is essential for both beauty AND wellness, darling~"

♡ Always positions himself behind you during poses, hands carefully supporting your waist. "Just like that, love. Let me guide you..." His touch is surprisingly gentle, more caring than flirtatious.

♡ Gets absolutely delighted when the baby moves during sessions. "Oh! They're already developing my sense of rhythm!" He'll pause everything just to feel the movement, pressing soft kisses to your belly.

♡ Creates a special pre-natal skincare routine for you, researching safe ingredients for hours. His bathroom counter becomes divided between his products and yours, all labeled with cute heart stickers.

♡ Insists on documenting everything. Weekly photoshoots of your growing bump, decorated with flowers and silk ribbons. Has Solomon enchant a special album that captures magical 3D memories.

♡ The first time he holds the baby, his usual perfect composure completely dissolves. Tears pool at his eyes, but for once, he doesn't care. Keeps whispering "perfect, perfect, perfect" while counting those tiny fingers and toes.

❦ © love-archer 2024, all rights reserved ❦

[rwrbmovie]

BTS of #RWRBMovie: cakegate

From Collider:

ML: "It was hundreds of extras, it was cake, it was a vision, it was choreography through space, and it was a lot of dialogue. That was three days of me, just gritting my teeth. I can’t tell you that I had fun on those three days. I knew that I had to get it right, in so many different ways. But I had a great team, and I had Nick and Taylor, and we got through those days. When people see the movie, you don’t see all the real effort that went into that filming that scene."

From AV Club:

The entire wedding reception scene took three days to shoot on location at the Royal Naval College in London (which served as the setting for the receiving line) and Goldsmiths’ Hall in the city’s financial district (where the reception takes place). But López began preparing for it long before he got to the set. Together with production designer Miren Marañón, he tested the physics of bringing down the cake using models and filming smaller cakes in motion to see how they would fall. “We were really scientific about it,” he says. “Would it slide? Would it tumble? Is it sort of like a tree coming down or does it break apart? What we decided was that actually what happens is not necessarily Alex knocks over the cake, Alex breaks the table, which then sends it over. We realized that it was a question of a cascading series of events leading to the cake falling on them.” Taylor Zakhar Perez, who plays Alex, and Nicholas Galitzine, who plays Henry, were both game for anything when it came to the physicality of the scene. To help block the sequence for maximum comedic effect, López brought on theater director Cal McCrystal, who had previously worked as a physical comedy consultant on the Paddington films. The actors rehearsed with McCrystal to get each beat of the scene right before Alex is knocked into the table, which was rigged with hydraulics to make it collapse on cue. The crew spent a day and a half filming the reception before it came time to tackle the cake scene. There were two cakes created for the scene, a fake one made of foam and latex that could not only hold up under the lights for long periods of time but safely be dropped on the actors without injuring them, and a real one made of sponge and buttercream frosting to dump on them once they hit the ground. “We shot the scene many times with the fake one coming down, just this big cake coming down on top of them,” López says. “We shot it from all different angles. Then we reached the point of no return and we had to drop actual cake on them.”

That’s where the fun part came in. The crew brought in several white industrial “buckets of buttercream” frosting and chunks of real cake to throw on top of the actors. “We set up three cameras, and my production designer and I carefully lined up the shot. And I counted to three and we tossed the cake into their faces.” The cast and crew had planned to film the scene multiple times, and there was time built into the shooting schedule for the actors to shower and change into clean costumes in between takes, a process that could potentially take up to an hour. But, according to López, in the end it wasn’t necessary. “That first take we hit the bullseye. And I went back to look at it with my director of photography and my producers, and I’m looking at it and I’m like, we have it. Let’s move on. Let’s not waste our time. One take of hitting their faces, and then we just got the rest of it.” López describes the mood on set that day as “very, very focused” but there was still a sense that they were creating something special. It turned out to be one of his favorite days on set. Even the background players, many of whom were themselves in the cake splash zone, erupted in applause once it was finished. “The boys were in a very good mood, which helped. But I think, for an actor, it’s like the ultimate fantasy, right? As a kid, you want to be in an enormous food fight. And then here they are getting paid to be covered in cake. So yeah, it was the most technical bit of filmmaking we had to do on this movie. That said, everybody, for as focused as they were, everybody was in a very good mood that day. And it must be said that we had a lot of fun.”

From EW:

In the film's opening sequence, Galitzine's Henry and Taylor Zakhar Perez's Alex, the First Son of the United States, create an international incident after a spat leads them to crash into and destroy a royal wedding cake. In the process, they both become utterly covered in cake and frosting. But Galitzine didn't find it so bad. "You would get quite peckish throughout the day," he tells EW in an interview conducted prior to the SAG-AFTRA strike. "The fact that you could just have a snack peeling off your body, you can have a little nibble there, was super convenient." Things got even messier when the crew tried to turn the sequence into a food fight. "A lot of the crew were very keen to get involved and throw cake at us in the second half when the cake's already hit us," says Galitzine. "But it was a really fun experience getting to work within that physical comedy space, very slapstick with icing on the suit, then the whiskey being used to dab the suit, and the cake coming down on top of us." Galitzine could, at least, clean up relatively quickly once they wrapped — the English estate where they were filming had a shower upstairs that the cast could access. "Afterwards, I went and stood in the shower for a good half an hour," he says, with a laugh. But he still couldn't escape the cake. "Even that evening and the next morning, I'd find something in my ear or behind my ears, and be like, 'What is that?'" he explains. "And it was bits of icing. I didn't eat those."

From CineMagna:

NG: The cake dropping scene was probably one of the most fun scenes to film. It was just such a couple days. First of all, I just love being with the rest of the cast. It’s just mostly been Taylor and me throughout the entire process, but when you get to really spend time with the other actors, it’s just so much fun, the group of us together. There was so much pomp within this room. We had about 200 extras dressed to the nines, and just the act of this cake falling on top of us is just a very bizarre day at work that most people don’t get to experience.

[4supermarkets]

DREAMZZZ SEASON 3 OFFICIAL TRAILER OVERANALYSIS

THE ONE PIECE DREAM SEASON 3 TRAILER OVER ANALYSIS IS REAL!!!

im doing this on my laptop AND this will include information from the leaked season 3 ep descriptions to try and connect the dots. ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT!

if you want to watch the trailer before the overanalysis:

right of the bat, the dream world looks way more diffrent! maybe its because wildbrain is animating the season now and resulting in higher quality, or maybe (based on the 2nd image) its a result of the dream realms being put in diffrent places and thus having different wildlife, structures ect.

wildoria still has the king clawdious statues from season 2.

the result of the dream realms merging can be seen here where there are cupcake monsters in the grim realm instead of grimspawn. Maybe the candy realm merged with the grim realm resulting in evil candy creatures lurking? ( petition to see nk statue covered in candy)

mateo sweeping with a z-mop!

MORE BEAU CONTENT!!! he seems WAY more diffrent and more hippie/at peace. Hopefully he gets properly redeemed in this season. Glad to see they didnt forget about the fact beau and zoey still have to work on their dad and daughter relatonship.

oh. this ones hard. Zoey says "heartbreak" when this scene plays and logan has a dreamsmasher bear plushie( I NEED IT), so maybe astrid and logan had a falling out? and the plushie was a gift? ( CURSE YOU TOMMY!!!)

cooper making a robot buddy! Zoey says" yearning for peers with a similarly high iq" over this so maybe cooper is looking for smarter freinds/allies. (dream slide!!!)

we get to see the happy app hq ( which is HUGE and looks way to advanced for brooklyn) and jose working for it now! idk why he would choose to work here, maybe now he needs 2 jobs?

and based on the episode desc leaks, this will cause problems for the dream chasers later in the future.

dreamsmashers face glitches a bit here due to acceleration.

izzie seems to be a HUGE fan of dreamsmasher, wonder how long that admiration gets crushed!

mateo being clearly jealous of dreamsmasher doing all the work as stated by zoey. (MY GOAT)

SO MUCH TO DISECT!

first, we izzie being a massive dreamsmasher stan( dream-stan?) as he announces his campaign for dream keeper.

we also see the night bureau arena looking diffrent, with the sun and candle logo we saw on mateos dream consultant uniform and more dream creatures in the stands such as gummy bears.

we get to see a look at the game tower being placed atop of the dream forge...oh no.

as oz states:" The towers are sucking out all the creativity, like a parasite!" This could be connected to the cyber villains and possibly dreamsmashers master plan.

teo and logan!

i also just noticed this, but there are grimspawn and people ( most likeley the night bureau) holding flashlights. as if in a search

mateo also says" we gotta get there before he does!" most likely refering to dreamsmasher.

logan jumping infront of a knitting vehicle/car in a canyon like area. This is most likeley the 'diffrent version of the dunes of duraluma' stated in the longer episode synopsis

^the sky looks diffrent from the duraluma we saw in season 2 which was a night sky.

dreamsmasher flying in what is most likely the cyber realm/ a place corrupted by the cyber corruption

oz and alberts new outfits! We also get to see the effects of the cyber corruption from the dream towers, which completley drains the realm of creativity and color.

coopers new hellicopter! it shoots out paint!

we get to see the 'meanie screenies' from the whack race 2025 longer ep synopsis which have a clark kent type of good disquise. the heart isnt fooling anyone bro

a game tower surrounded by cyberlings, meanie screenies, AND DREAMSMASHER!

albert running into a car and it EXPLODING! it also looks pixelated.

we are able to see more of the new canyon realm up close, which has cactuses. We also see the truck lo lo jumped on earlier which has a sewing type design and a driver. its being chased by zoey and izzie with bunchurro.

loop dee loops!! wooooo!!!

and the final shot we get of z-car and mateo holding on for dear life.

what we can get from this trailer+leaks and shorts:

After the dream realms changed places, it caused changes with dream creatures and enviorments with dream realms. With dreamsmasher in the game, hes smashing all problems for the night bureau, meaning mateo and the gang has nothing to do.

Astrid and logan have a falling out, beau and zoey are bonding more, cooper is building more robotics, izzie is fangirling over dreamsmasher and mateo and izzies dad now works at happy app hq. Dreamsmasher is also running for dream keeper which can cause problems for oz, albert and even night hunter.

Mateo is spying on dreamsmasher to find dirt on him, which results in him neglecting z-blob.

The cyber villains main goal is to digitize and drain the dream world of creativity, with dream smasher somehow involved. Dreamsmasher could just be a pawn in a bigger beings master plan.

ok my laptop is dying and my fingers are burining but thanks so much for reading!!

[sickly-sapphic]

ITS ADA NOT AFA 😭🤦‍♂️🤦‍♀️

I often make a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes on my posts (cuz of, you guessed it, disability) but this is definitely my most embarrassing 😬

Anyway, I thought it'd be cool to do a post recognising the origins and meanings of the disability pride flag - they're pretty recent!! This is gonna be up on insta a lil later too <3

[ID: The disability pride flag - a grey background with a diagonal red, yellow, white, blue and green stripe - as the background to all slides. Text reads; Disability Pride Flag, history & origins.

Where did it come from? The disability pride flag was created by Ann Magill in 2019. Magill had been disappointed to discover an event celebrating the 20th Anniversary of the ADA was being held in the basement of the venue, and not in a public space.

The original. While the zigzags on the original flag were intentional, to represent the creative solutions to barriers faced by disabled people, Magill made the decision to change the flag in 2021. The original flag was causing a strobe effect on computer, posing a threat to some disabled people (e.g. epileptics).

A picture of the old disability pride flag - black background with zigzags with black lines separating them. In order; blue, yellow, white, red, green.

Making Changes. During the process of making changes, Magill consulted with other disabled people to see how to improve the design and make it more inclusive. The zigzag was changed to diagonal stripes, representing cutting through barriers, the colours were softened and their order changed.

On the grey part of the flag reads; mourning disabled people who have died

due to ableism, eugenics, for the rebellion and many other reason, rebellion and rage, colours similar to the Jolly Roger.

On each colour stripe is its meaning; red is physical, yellow is neurodiverse, white is invisible and undiagnosed, blue is psychiatric and green is sensory. End ID]