#solemates

[getawayfox]

Draco snorts again, and Harry grins, and this is something Harry thinks he's never going to grow out of: getting a rise out of Draco, getting his attention. It's a wonderful hobby, or a terrible one.

Quote from the delightful and hot fic solemates by @shiftylinguini (Drarry, E, 17k)

[actuallylemon]

LEMON...

did you know...

they're...

SOLEMATES

Yes! After the “we make a pretty great team” “fraid so” moment they whipped off their shoes and socks and pressed their feet up together and discovered they are indeed SOLEMATES

[jmflowers]

Please dedicate to @lacallemojada

For APF, who underestimates how cute I can make disgusting things. And for Ducks, who humoured me and my ridiculous ideas.

Solemates

One of her socks goes missing the day after she wins gold.

Maya doesn’t notice right away, not until she’s packing her bags to leave the athlete’s village. Not until there’s only one sweaty, blood-covered sock in her pile of dirty clothes.

She looks for it, at first, because she isn’t really thinking about that. Isn’t thinking about anything except how her father probably wants to frame them, wants to hang them above the mantle in the living room as a testament to what a Bishop is capable of.

What a Bishop can win.

What a Bishop can overcome.

She gives up, after a while, when it’s clear there’s no sock to be found. Instead, she shoves her sports bras and her leggings and her training gear into her duffel bag, ignoring the sharp stench of sweat laced into the fabric.

Ignoring the sharp pinch of her ankle in the bandage wrapped around it.

When she steps out of her room for the last time, gold medal hanging heavily around her neck, she doesn’t look back. Doesn’t think too hard about the missing sock.

Doesn’t think at all about dropping the other one in the trash.

~

Carina’s living in Milan when it arrives.

Actually, living in is a generous term. She’s more gravitating, lugging herself between hotel rooms and friends’ couches with only a suitcase to her name.

It hurts too much to put down roots, still.

And she’s not really thinking about what anything means, when it shows up on the bathroom floor. Isn’t thinking anything beyond the grief sticking in her bones.

Or maybe that she should really find better accommodations if the cleaning staff would miss a disgusting, sweaty, bloody sock on the bathroom floor.

But then it does come rushing back, all at once. Her mother’s voice, soft and familiar and comforting, weaving a tale of soulmates and eternity and meant to be.

She isn’t expecting it, when it arrives. Has given up expecting that such a thing is even meant for someone such as her. But she doesn’t deny it, when it appears.

It’s too hard to ignore when it smells so bad.  

~

Her bra goes missing a couple months later, when she’s settled back into the spare room at Gabriella’s. And that Carina does notice right away, because she’d washed it and hung it in the bathroom with the intention of wearing it and the whole draw of moving back in with Gabri is that she doesn’t touch her stuff and –

Gabriella stares at her like she has grown an extra head when she asks. “Why would I take your bra?” she mutters, strolling past into the kitchen, “It wouldn’t fit me.”

She remembers again, then; remembers the sock wrapped in a plastic bag to hide its smell, shoved into the very bottom of her suitcase. It feels unfair, just a little, to know that someone, somewhere in the world, has gotten her nice bra and in return she’s received their disgusting sock.

Their bloody, sweaty, stinky sock.

At least her bra was clean.

~

Maya finds it in her pack while she’s sorting through her things on a hostel bed in Nepal.

She pales instantly, shoving it into the open pocket to hide it from her bunk mate. Shakti has been too intrigued by everything Maya has done in the last few days they’ve been together – from brushing her hair to doing sit ups on the floor.

Shakti doesn’t need to see the rather lacey bralette that’s somehow magically appeared in Maya’s pack.

Unless Shakti is the one…

No, Maya thinks instantly, there’s no way. It must’ve been one of the other girls, one of the other many people she’s crossed paths with in the last week of her travels.

A funny joke.

The fabric is soft beneath her fingers, despite the lace. Warm, almost.

And tiny; far too small to fit her own breasts.

She keeps it without much more thought, wondering if maybe she’ll cross paths with the girl who put it there. Wondering if maybe she’ll get a bit of practice removing it from the body it belongs to.

She doesn’t think about what the appearance of an undergarment is supposed to mean.

~

Andy gushes about it years later, grinning over a shot glass on her front porch.

She’d found her sock as a child, tucked beneath the covers of her bed. She thinks it belongs to Ryan, Maya knows, thinks the flirty glances they’ve been sharing across the front lawns of their parents’ houses mean they’re meant to be.

It all sounds ridiculous to Maya, though. Too far-fetched to be true.

Even if Vic has found one, too. An undershirt, stained with sweat, buried in the bottom of her gym bag while she was at the academy.  

“I bet that means he’s in really good shape,” Andy suggests, smirking salaciously.

“What about you, Bishop?” Vic asks, handing over another shot of vodka.

Maya laughs, throwing it back quickly, drinking away the memory of soft lace beneath her fingers. “Monogamy is for the weak,” she declares loudly, eyes shifting to Andy’s face and the sharp fall of her smile. “Or the very, very dedicated.”

“Not quite monogamy,” Vic challenges, glancing off towards the approaching form of Ryan.

“Yeah,” Andy whispers, “It’s soulmates.”

~

She doesn’t think about it, when Maya’s warm hand slides into her own, a drink and a story hovering between them. Doesn’t think about it when they talk on the phone, or over dinner, or beneath the covers of Maya’s bed.

Carina doesn’t even think about it when Maya shows her the gold medal for the first time, her fingers soft and her kisses softer.

In fact, she forgets about it at all until she shoves her hand into the bottom drawer of her dresser, searching for the last of her things to pack, and lands on the plastic bag instead.

She knows what’s inside without looking. Remembers the sweat stains and the blood and the smell. It’s ridiculous, to have hauled it along with her for all these years.

Ridiculous, that she drops it into the box alongside the rest of her clothes, destined for their new home with Maya.

~

Carina is very good at packing, Maya finds, but less so at unpacking.

Her boxes of things litter every surface of their newly-shared apartment, the only indication of Carina’s organization the carefully written labels stating that they are, at least, in the right rooms. Like the box of toiletries in the corner of the bathroom.

Or the one that’s taken up residence on top of the dresser instead of in it.

Maya starts there, carefully extracting articles of clothing Carina has deemed okay to be folded. Her other things – the nicer things – have already been hung safely in the bedroom closet, Maya’s own collection of rarely-worn dresses and jackets relegated down the hall to the living room.

She stops when she reaches the bottom, confused by the plastic bag nestled amidst Carina’s intimates. It smells a bit, even though it’s been carefully wrapped up, completely out of place within the gentle scent of Carina’s laundry detergent.

“Carina?” she calls before she can think better of it, before she can even really register what it might be, “Is this yours?”

“Oh,” Carina murmurs when she appears in the doorway, a spatula still in her hands. She lowers it slowly, considering.

“Is this yours?” Maya asks again.

Carina frowns. “Sort of,” she nods, “It’s my… sock.”

“Oh,” Maya repeats, glancing down at it in her hands, “Oh.”

“You can throw it out,” Carina suggests, turning back towards the kitchen, “I don’t need it.”

“Hey, wait,” Maya calls after her, following, still clutching the offending object tightly. “How long have you had this?”

Carina shrugs, suddenly indifferent as she resumes unpacking her kitchen boxes, carefully arranging items in drawers. She’s good at it, now that she’s trying to deflect.

“You don’t even want to open it?” Maya offers. “One last time?”

Carina shakes her head. “I don’t need to.” She looks up, smiling softly, effortlessly yanking the breath from Maya’s lungs when she promises, “I love you, Maya.”

“Besides,” she adds on as an afterthought, waving her hand between them as though dismissing it, “It’s stinky and sweaty and covered with blood. I should’ve thrown it out years ago.”

“Now I have to see it,” Maya laughs, grabbing hold of Carina’s wrist to pull her closer.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Carina argues, tipping into Maya’s arms, “I am still choosing you, bambina.”

“But what if we’re sole mates,” Maya chuckles anyways, teasing even as Carina’s words send a flood of butterflies through her stomach. “What if it’s my sock inside this bag?”

“If it is,” Carina whispers, nuzzling closer, “I’d like my own sock drawer, because yours are very gross.”

She unwraps it slowly, both of them recoiling slightly as the years-old sweat reaches their noses. It’s plain looking, beneath the blood stains; simple.

Except for the Team USA logo on the toes.

“Oh,” Maya mumbles.

She steps away, slowly at first and then quickly, her feet picking up speed as her mind does. She dashes towards the living room closet, reaching on her tiptoes for the box tucked into a corner on the shelf.

She should’ve known, she thinks. Should’ve considered, that first night. The first time she pulled lace up and away from Carina’s body. The first time Carina’s array of bras appeared along the top of the shower door, hung to dry.

The first time her fingers felt the warmth of soft fabric beneath them.

Maya opens the box slowly, uncovering the bralette she’s kept for all these years.

“Oh,” Carina echoes when she turns. “Oh.”

“My sock,” Maya whispers, stumbling back across the room to Carina’s side, feeling the pull of her like gravity. “My Olympic Gold Medal sock.”

“Now I definitely want my own drawer,” Carina declares, dipping low to capture Maya’s mouth with her own, “And my favourite bra back.”

[eric-sadahire]

I met a fellow fetishist at the shoe store last week

We really got off on the right foot

I think we're sole mates

[thisisamadhouse]

#solemates

[redhawtriot]

Sole Mates 🦶❤️🦶(Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞 

Part 1, Part 2

Part 3:

“Stupid Deku and his bitch of an ex-wife can die for all I care,” Bakugou angrily grumbled to himself as he threw his hospital gown away from him. He took to changing a lot more aggressively than normal as he tore on his hero costume.

He made sure to toss his gown in the designated clothes bin before storming out of his hospital room. His movements, however, felt robotic as the series of the day looped in his mind over and over again. He tried to pick the day apart piece by piece.

What was that kid’s name again…? His hag of a mother had called out to him a few times. Hiro…? No, that’s not it…

Bakugou’s concentration was abrupted as the sudden commotion of the hospital halls came to a sudden halt in his presence. The nurses all became deathly silent as he marched passed them. He felt their wide eyes trailing his every move like deer watching a predator.  

The man scoffed, “The hell are you staring at.” He said very lowly, causing the hoards of people to promptly avert their gazes, returning to their activities.

As soon as he walked out of the hospital, he was swarmed by a barrage of news outlets,

“Ground Zero! Do you have underlying health issues you’re not telling us about!? You seemed to pass out out of seemingly nowhere!”

“Mr Ground Zero! Are you familiar with Deku’s ex-wife? Were you pulled to the scene by personal relations?”

“Are you the reason for their divorce?!”

His face immediately shriveled up at the last question, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU BUNCH OF SCAVENGERS!” he screamed, causing the herd of anchormen/women to  instantly hush and part out of his way. He stormed past the terrified crowd as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and noticed a few missed calls from some of his ‘friends’: Kirishima, Kaminari, and Jirou.

No doubt that they probably saw what had happened to him on the news. Fucking naturally. Everyone saw him faint like a punk bitch on the live television. Bakugou growled angrily— the grip on his phone tightening before he heavily huffed and began typing a contact name into his device.

He held the thing up to his ear after pressing call, “Hello? Mr. Aizawa.”

The other man gave a tired sigh, “Just call me Aizawa, Bakugou. You’re not in high school anymore,” he replied very flatly.

“I. know. that,” he forced through gritting teeth—a stream of more vulgar choice words threatening to spill from his tightened lips.

“I saw your fight from this evening on television. I am assuming you want to talk about it?”

“Tell me everything you know about bonding quirks.” He spat very hastily.

——————————————————————

‘Stupid Deku and his bitch of an ex can die for all I care.’ You felt the thought creep into your mind like an unwanted house guest—giving you slight pause as Izuku kept his hand firmly wrapped around your forearm.

You looked back up at the green haired man as he waited for you to give him some sort of response to his question, but words failed to make their way from you as you dwelled on Bakugou’s intrusive thought.

Die? We can read some of each other’s thoughts, feel each other’s pain, but if one of us were to die… would the other?

The thought sent a chill down your spine. The feeling of helplessness accompanied that chill until it settled into your tight chest.

No matter how much you couldn’t stand the raging furball of a man, the two of you would have to depend on each other from now on. Yes, whether you liked it or not, your paths had now intertwined with each other for an unpredictable period. You would need to find him and figure this out together.

You reluctantly found yourself grabbing Izuku’s arm and guiding it back away from you, “I-I don’t…” you prepared to decline his self-invitation; however, one look into his emerald eyes completely melted your resolve.

Seriously?

C’mon, Y/N. You are a whole fucking mother. If you can handle Koko’s adorable puppy dog eyes after an entire day of not seeing her, then surely you can handle this. You shook your hesitation away before opening your mouth to firmly speak up,

“Izuku. I don’t think that’s a good—”

“I understand that you’re scared about your situation, but I promise that we will figure it out,” he softly interrupted you, “Together… A-as friends of course,” you weren’t so sure about that part, but you listened to him as he continued speaking anyways, “I do have a few ideas of who to contact, and we can pull some of the street surveillance videos, and grab a witness or two to ask them what happened. We will figure this out—t-the bonded thing.”

You fought the heavy urge to roll your eyes, and settled for crossing your arms instead, “Well, do you have to be at my house to do that?”

“N-no, of course, but It would be easier for me to focus on this, plus my everyday work if I didn’t have to worry about switching Koko between the two of us every day,” he argued, uncertainty written upon his expression.

He so obviously just pulled that outta his ass.

‘Well, he never really was too good at hiding his emotions’ you sighed, “Okay....” you agreed, your eyes shifting away from his own, “...just for tonight…” you trailed off as you looked to your ex-husband’s brightening expression—instant regret filling your mind as your heart fell with his contagious joy.

The upbeat man immediately took to gathering up your belongings for you, excitedly chatting about how he was excited to see what you’ve done with your home, and how Koko was telling him all about how you changed the dining room into a spare office. And how you changed the spare bedroom into a playroom for her.

You listened to all these things that your ever so sweet child had told him from the other side of the bathroom door as you changed into some clothes that he had brought you.

Fuck. She probably tells him everything about your days. Does he know you don’t cook anymore? Damn, he probably does. He probably knows that you put her to bed early on Thursday nights so you can have conference calls with your global investors and everything-- more ammunition for his judgmental fire, “I gotta talk to her about privacy…”

“What did you say, Y/N?” he called from the other side of the door.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud,” you replied as you opened the door revealing Izuku’s flustered expression. He had brought you some of his spare clothes, and the sight of you in them after almost a year sent an unexpected surge of emotions to his heart.

“Uh.. um. T-t-the n-nurses said that we can go out of a back entrance to avoid the media swarm outside…” he finally spat out as he averted his gaze from you.

Damn, you had almost forgotten how he was basically a celebrity. He was climbing up the ranks towards being the number one hero after all. And his ex-wife was just hospitalized, probably on live news, “Okay…”

After successfully making it out of the hospital with little disturbance, You found yourself in Izuku’s car. Alone. Just you and him.

God, try not to think about it. Don’t think about it like that. For God’s sake DON’T—

“So this is the first time we’ve ever been alone like this since last year, huh…?” He suddenly broke the silence.

“…Yeah…” you trailed off with an uneasy tone of voice.

The rest of the ride pretty much followed this exact script: an awkward silence where you were practically dying internally, followed by him opening his mouth to spout some meaningless conversation, followed by you giving a half-assed reply and then starting the cycle all over again.

And a vicious cycle it was.

Soon enough, however, the two of you found yourselves at Inko’s apartment. Praise whatever omnipotence was listening to your prayers, because Izuku decided that he would stay inside of the car to keep it warm and running while you grabbed Koko.

You, of course, had your own key to the place since this was the usual buffer between you and Izuku. As soon as you began to open the front door to the apartment you heard rapid shuffling on the other side, shortly after followed by a high voice, “Daddy’s home! He’s back!”

You scoffed, ‘Mommy’s here too, brat,’ you spitefully thought to yourself before swinging the door open to scoop your daughter, who had run to the door to help you unlock it, into your arms, “Hi, my baby!” you cooed as you squeezed her small frame into yours. The girl hugged you back for only moment before going stiff,

“Where’s daddy? He said he’d be back tonight,” she whined.

“Oh, he did, did he?” That fucker had this planned the entire time! The sweet face and freckles did wonders for the man-- you gravely underestimated his plotting nature. Shit!

“Hi sweetheart!” you heard the schemer in question chime from behind you in the entrance, causing you to snap your head back in shock. You were met with an apologetic expression as if he wanted to say ‘I changed my mind, sorry.’

You took back what the fuck you mentioned about ‘whatever omnipotence is listening.’

“DADDY!” Koko snatched herself from your arms as she shuffled over towards Izuku. Her arm and leg prosthetics heavily clunked as she fumbled his way. She practically fell into his embrace as her foreign limbs tried to keep up with her excited body.

You heart dropped at the sight, settling in a deep pit of guilt at the bottom of your twisting stomach. You would never get used to seeing her struggle with her two prosthetics. You tried to hide the obvious discomfort on your face and offer a slight smile at the otherwise warming scene in front of you.

“Be careful, honey. You don’t want to hurt yourself,” Izuku warned your daughter, however the young girl was too busy fumbling with pieces of his hero costume,

“When I make my hero costume, I want it to be just like yours,” the five-year-old randomly spit out.

That pinge turned into full fledged heartbreak at her words. Izuku seemed to feel the same way as the two of you made eye contact with one another; however, as you opened your mouth to say something and break the thick silence, Inko walked in,

“Oh, good! You’re back! How are you Y/N, sweetie? You doing okay?! I saw the attack on the news! Of course, and then when Izuku called—”

“I’m fine, Inko,” you interrupted the frantic woman. She tended to over worry about things and work herself up. You guess Izuku had to get it from somewhere, “Thank you so much for watching Koko,”

“You know it’s no problem at all! We had dinner of course and washed up for bed already, so you're all set to go tonight!” she sang.

Both you and Izuku once again thanked Inko and as soon as you all said your good-byes, you headed back to your apartment. The drive there was much louder with a five year old in the back seat, however the conversation mostly stayed between her and her obvious favorite parent. It’s okay. You weren’t bitter. Not at all.

Izuku, much like he promised, found himself touring your apartment and commenting on little things you had changed here and there as Koko and him hung out for about a half an hour before she went to bed at around 11 pm. Sadly, that was her normal bedtime.

By the end of the night you found yourself drowsily plopping down onto your living room couch and turning on the TV to unwind. Ironically, around this time of night when you watched television, dramatic reality TV was what you found yourself absorbed into. Viewing people get wound up was the perfect way to wind down.

Watching a ho get dragged by her hair and seeing glasses of citrus vodka being thrown across dining room tables was just the relaxing conclusion that you needed.

And god, was that the understatement of the century! Koko was always a pain in the ass to get to sleep, but Izuku being there made it a lot worse! Eventually you stepped into the situation and put your bad guy pants on to help you put your foot down. Izuku never really was the best at giving the girl stern orders. She practically had him wrapped around his finger. Especially since her accident…

He felt the burden of guilt you supposed...

You were snapped out of your thoughts as Izuku came to sit down next you on the other far side of the couch. You immediately threw him a suspicious side eye; however, concluded that if he stayed way over there you would permit this intrusion.

Still, every now and then when you would look back over to the green haired man, he seemed to be inching close and closer, until eventually, here was less that a foot of space between you.

“Ughhhhhh,” you threw your head onto the hard back of the couch as you bellowed a loud, annoyed groan.

“What? What’s wrong?!” he inched even closer to you as his voice pitched in worry.

You snapped our head back upright to toss him a soft glare, “What do you think you’re doing Izuku?”

His eyes darted around your expression as if he were searching for the right thing to say “Watching TV...?” he hesitantly trailed off.

“Mhmm,” you deadpanned as you swiftly stood up from the couch, “I’m gonna head to bed.” Reality Tv night was ruined by his stupid broccoli head ass. You regretted letting him stay here in the first place. How could you have possibly thought that this was anything even resembling a good idea after everything that you two had been through?!

“Wait…” he called out to you has he jumped int from of your path. You angrily eyed the green flashes of light accompanying his body. You looked up to him with wild eyes—he knew how much you hated it when he used his quirk when it came to you.  He held up two apologetic palms to you as if he wanted to reach out but stopped himself letting them fall limply by his sides, “I just… this is the first time we have really talked in months. I know that I have already said this, but I am sorry… I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I think about it every day and if I could take it back I would. You know I don’t really mean those things.”

“Oh you mean the part where you called me a… hmm what were your exact words” you tapped your finger on the bottom of your chin in feign thought,  “A selfish bitch? Or maybe you’re referring to when you said that I was a bad mother?” You finally released your urge to roll your eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” he sadly repeated.

“Ya fucking think?” you dropped your head into a scowl, “’Night.”

“Wait. Y/N wait! Please. Let’s fix this right now,” he begged as he tried to keep up with your retreating form.

“Ummm, it’s a little past that isn’t it?” your voice carried higher in frustration as you continued walking, trying not to make eye contact him as you rushed toward the sanctuary of your room.

“No, I mean. I want to be close to you,” Izuku finally grabbed the courage to jump in front of you and place his hands on your shoulders, as if he were trying to steady you on the edge of a cliff, “Things just aren’t the same without you. We can be friends,” he promised.

Your faces were dangerously close to each other as he gazed deeply into your eyes with his pleading expression. You bit your lip in uncertainty. It seemed like minutes had passed by with the two of you staring at each other until you finally broke the stalemate, “Friends, huh?” you raised an eyebrow at the man before the distance between the two of you seemed to shorten ever so slightly.

It was still enough for Izuku to notice, “Y-Yeah,” he stammered as his eyes quickly shifted towards your lips and then back up to your eyes.

“Friends?” you softly whispered as the distance between the two of you shortened even more, as if by some magnetic force.

“Friends…” the words barely floated out of his mouth before your lips pressed softly against his. You pushed deeply into him and allowed the heat of the moment flow between the two of you, your lips moving perfectly against each other when suddenly, you ripped yourself away from him,

“You can’t handle being friends,” you spat, glaring at his at his clouded eyes. Your words seem to phase straight through him as he quickly grabbed your face once more and pressed his wanting lips back onto your own. You tensed up at first.

Since when was he so fucking bold?!

Despite every logical thought in your brain, you eventually fell into his warm embrace— melting against his familiar touch.

On the other side of town, Bakugou was also having a very heated night as he fought against a villain with meteor quirk.

“KACCHAN! On your left!!”

The explosive man immediately weaved to the right and only narrowly missed getting slammed by a flaming ball of rock. Most people in this situation would say thank you, however Bakugou was not like most people, “SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT!! I saw it coming! Also, call me that again if you wanna get set on fire!”

“I see you’re still the same…” Kaminari trailed off before shooting a line of lightning toward the villain.

Bakugou gave slight pause, “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be dumbass?!” he barked.

“You know what they say about near death experiences. They change a man. I guess it doesn’t apply to gremlins,” the other blonde smirked as he teased the short fuse.

“Shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you, sparky!” Bakgou bellowed just as Kirishima came into the mix,

“Hey guys, we are kinda in the middle of a major villain fight, here! Could you save the bickering for later?!” he yelled before slamming his hardened fist into an incoming meteor.

“He started it!” Kaminari laughed.

“I’ll fucking finish it t—”

Bakugou’s threat suddenly paused as his face became bright red. Both anger and embarrassment accumulated in his cheeks as he flashed a furious glare behind him. Who the fuck just grabbed his ass?!

However, his face immediately fell as he found no one behind him.

That’s when it hit him like a meteor—the bond. That fucking bitch must be slutting it up!!

WAIT… she was with … does that fucking mean…?!

The man felt the sudden urge to through his entire body into a bleach bath.

Deku was indirectly copping a feel on his ass.

“DEKUUUUUUUUU,” Bakugou screeched at the top of his lungs as the redness in his face intensified by tenfold, “YOU BASTAAAARD!”

Do you keep going with Midoriya?? or slam the breaks??

YOU DECIDE!

Follow this link to participate in the poll!

[uispeccoll]

#MiniatureMonday

Solemates 

This fun little accordion style book is all about shoes! It covers a brief history of footwear and what messages they might convey, from the first examples found by archaeologists to statement pieces like platform heels! 

When both sides of the accordion have been read, the whole book gets tucked snugly into a little carved shoe. (Made in Thailand) 

Covers are embroidered silk on a black background with a silk belt tie, signed by the author.

What message will your shoes convey this week?

--Diane R.

[hauntedsandwichlover]

When You are with me, I just forget the world  💓