summary: You were supposed to marry a prince, not fall into a city full of strangers, skyscrapers, and coffee machines. But getting cursed was never part of the plan—and neither was meeting a little girl whose tired, sharp-eyed father who looked at you like you were something real.
Tokyo isn’t a fairytale. But maybe, if you’re lucky, it doesn’t have to be.
pairing: robert! nanami kento x giselle! male reader
content warnings: 18+, romance, fluff, angst, smut (oral + p in a), bottom male reader, transdimensional travel, poisoned fruit, found family, light swordplay, reader wears enchanted formalwear, dragon lady attack (brief) unreliable narrator (even the author is confused).
word count: 5.2k (the lack of motivation is CLEARLY visible lmao)
better viewed in dark mode
The sun rose over the hills of Andalasia—or what you had always called home. A forest made of dream-soft pastels and impossible light, where the air smelled faintly of honeysuckle and every morning began with birdsong, where deer peeked from behind trees and squirrels held sewing needles with practised grace. It was perfect. Which, to you, meant it was normal.
You twirled on the cottage balcony, robe fluttering behind you, humming a half-finished melody. Bluebirds circled your head in swooping arcs. A pair of chipmunks tugged ribbons between their teeth, and a badger attempted—unsuccessfully—to thread a button onto a coat with trembling paws.
"Almost done!" you said brightly, kneeling beside the dress form shaped from hollowed bark and stitched leaves. “Prince Gojo is going to love this. Well… maybe. I mean—I hope he loves it. It’s just our wedding, after all.”
You paused, blinking, suddenly dizzy with the thought—your wedding.
The forest rustled its approval.
Of course, you’d only just met yesterday. But he’d heard your song. You’d danced on the edge of a waterfall. And when you’d fallen into Gojo’s arms—gracefully, from a cliff, as one does—it had just felt right. That had to mean something. That had to be love.
“Right?” you asked a passing bird.
It chirped something vaguely affirming.
You sighed dreamily, collapsing onto a bed of moss as the birds fluffed the hem of your suit. “A fairytale beginning. A prince. A kiss. And a happily ever after. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
But the forest didn’t hum back the way it usually did.
There was a pause—a stillness.
Then, from the trees—
A rumble.
The birds scattered. The chipmunks dropped their thread. You sat up just in time to see a troll barrel through the glade, teeth bared, claws glinting, eyes wild.
“Okay—not part of the plan!”
You scrambled upright, tripping over a ribbon, only to be yanked backwards by the collar as vines snared your feet. “Seriously—why is it always vines—?!”
Just before the creature could swipe you in half, something silver flashed through the air. A sword. A scream. A blur of white and gold.
Prince Gojo.
He looked like he’d leapt out of a painting—shirt torn, hair somehow perfect, grinning like the chaos was part of the fun.
“Darling!” he called, catching you one-armed while slashing the troll with the other. “I missed you!”
“I saw you yesterday—”
“Too long!” Gojo laughed.
And just like that, the troll was gone.
Vanquished. Heroic. Timed perfectly to the end of a crescendoing song you didn’t realise had started.
Gojo dropped the sword, cupped your face in both hands, and beamed. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we’re getting married.”
And you—still breathless, still dizzy—could only smile and nod.
Because why wouldn’t you?
You had everything you wanted.
Didn’t you?
The next morning bloomed golden and soft. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass leaves, casting patterns on the forest floor as woodland creatures bustled in preparation. Birds carried garlands of silk, chipmunks stitched last-minute adjustments on the embroidered sash, and even the badger from before had seemingly mastered buttoning techniques overnight.
You stood before the mirror, smoothing down the front of your ceremonial robes. Soft blue and ivory, lined with hand-stitched petals, every seam kissed by your own hands. It looked exactly like something you’d imagined as a child—what your future would look like. A storybook ending written in fabric.
Your reflection smiled back. But there was a weight behind it. No doubt. Just... static. A kind of quiet you hadn’t expected.
You shook it off. Today wasn’t for wondering. Today was for joy.
Outside, trumpets rang through the glade.
“Ready?” Gojo called, already astride a white horse, grinning like he was late to his own coronation. A dove landed on his shoulder. He winked at it.
You barely had time to laugh before someone stepped into your path—a stooped woman in a cloak, half-shadowed beneath a crooked hood. Her voice was like splintered wood wrapped in silk.
“Excuse me, dearie,” she said. “A moment, before your big day.”
You paused. The animals hesitated, feathers ruffling.
“I’m in a bit of a hurry,” you said politely, taking a half-step back.
She smiled—wide, too wide—and reached into her cloak. “Just a wedding gift.”
You didn’t see the hand until it was on your chest. You didn’t feel the ground until it was gone.
The sky twisted above you. The trees blurred, then bent, then shattered into light.
You were falling.
And falling.
And—
Your body slammed into something wet and hard. Your ears rang. Lights flashed—unnatural ones, bright and red and harsh. There were no birds. No singing. No flowers. Just the sting of pavement and a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
You groaned, rolling onto your side.
Towering buildings loomed above, steel and glass swallowing the sky.
And around you, a dozen strangers in suits and jackets walked past without even blinking.
You sat up, wide-eyed, soaked and shivering.
You weren’t in Andalasia anymore.
—
You stumbled to your feet, blinking hard against the lights. They came from everywhere—flashing boxes in the sky, windows that moved, towers made of cold silver and too much glass. The air stank of smoke and iron. The ground beneath you was not grass but something hard and grey, painted with stripes and humming faintly beneath your boots like it was alive.
A giant, glowing sign buzzed somewhere overhead in a language you couldn’t read. Another flashed to life with a jingle that made no musical sense. And still, not a single soul stopped.
People brushed past you without looking. Men in black coats talking into small glowing boxes. Girls with skirts that barely covered their knees, chewing gum and laughing too loudly. A man walked by holding a bag of something fried and orange, and no one said hello. Not even the dog he dragged behind him.
You blinked up at a traffic light.
A robot voice said something you didn’t understand.
“W-what is this place?” you breathed.
No one answered.
A car honked—an angry, blaring sound that made you spin around too fast and nearly fall again. It wasn’t a carriage. There were no horses. Just metal beasts that screamed without mouths, hurtling past in streaks of black and chrome.
“This isn’t right,” you murmured. “This isn’t real.”
You looked around wildly, hoping—praying—for a patch of trees, a trail of birdsong, anything that might lead you back. But there was only noise. Towers. People moving like they couldn’t see you.
Your throat tightened. You spun in place, chest heaving.
“Hello?” you called. “Can anyone hear me? I think—I think I’m lost!”
A businessman glanced at you briefly, eyes skimming your embroidered robes and curling shoes. He shook his head and kept walking.
You swallowed. Hard.
Your hands trembled.
And for the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to sing.
Then—
“Papa, look!” a voice cried. High-pitched. Excited.
You turned.
A little girl was tugging at a man’s sleeve, pointing directly at you. She looked about six or seven, dressed in a tiny school uniform and pink sneakers. Her pigtails bobbed as she dragged her father toward you.
Her father—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark coat and tie—stopped just short of you. His expression was… tired. Mistrustful. And unreadable.
“Please,” you said, stepping forward. “I don’t know where I am. Or how I got here. But I think I’ve been cursed.”
The girl beamed. “I told you, Papa, he’s a prince!”
The man blinked.
Then sighed.
And said, flatly, “Oh, hell no.”
The man turned as if to walk away—already fishing in his coat for what looked like a phone, his jaw tight, his whole posture radiating not my problem. You scrambled after him, nearly tripping over your own hem.
“Wait—please!” you said, voice cracking. “I don’t know where this is. I was on my way to my wedding and then a hag—well, a woman, but you know—she pushed me down a well, and now everything smells like metal and why is the sky flickering—?”
“Okay.” He stopped, hands raised. “You need to calm down.”
“I am calm!” you said, not calm at all. “This is just my very composed panic voice!”
The little girl looked up at him. “Can we keep him?”
“We’re not keeping anyone,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. He looked at you again—really looked this time. The dishevelled hair. The mud-spattered sash. The way you stood with your hands wringing in front of you, like you didn’t know what to do without a song to fill the air.
“You’re not from here,” he said slowly.
“No,” you breathed. “I’m from—” You paused. “Actually, I don’t think it exists here.”
“That makes two of us,” he muttered.
There was a long pause.
“Fine,” he said, and ran a hand down his face. “You can come with us. Just for now. Until we figure out who you are, or where you escaped from.”
You blinked. “I didn’t escape from anywhere.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
The little girl took your hand. Her fingers were warm. Grounding.
“I’m Nobara,” she said. “You’re gonna love our apartment. It has a couch. And juice.”
“That sounds…” You swallowed, trying to think of the right word. “...Comforting.”
The man sighed again, as if regretting every choice that led him to this moment.
“Kento Nanami,” he said.
You blinked up at him. “That’s a lovely name.”
“Don’t make it weird,” he replied flatly. Then turned, gesturing for you to follow.
So you did.
Because what else was there to do?
You were lost in a kingdom that didn’t believe in magic. Your prince was in another world. Your clothes were soaked. And nothing smelled like flowers anymore.
But for the first time since the fall, you felt just a little less alone.
The next morning, you tried your best to be helpful.
You folded the couch blanket into a perfect swan. You brewed tea using what you thought was a teapot—it was actually a rice cooker. You gave Nobara an elaborate forest-style braid, complete with twigs and a flower you found in the stairwell. She looked thrilled. Nanami looked... tired.
You were in the middle of sweeping the floor with a curtain rod when the doorbell rang.
Nanami opened the door and immediately tensed. The man on the other side stood tall, dressed in a tailored black coat, hair tied back with the kind of precision that said he’d never forgotten a single appointment in his life.
Suguru Geto.
He didn’t smile. “She ready?”
“She’s finishing her breakfast,” Nanami said, jaw tight.
Geto’s eyes slid past him—and landed on you.
He took in your embroidered cuffs. Your flower-pinned sash. The fact that you were still barefoot, holding a curtain rod like a staff.
There was a long pause.
“New roommate?” he asked.
“No.”
“Dating?”
“No.”
You stepped forward, cheerful. “Hello! I’m staying here until I figure out how to undo a terrible spell that may or may not have involved a cursed well and a power-hungry sorceress. Also, your daughter is delightful.”
Geto blinked.
“...Right.”
Nobara skipped into view, backpack in hand. “Dad, this is the guy who sings at the furniture.”
“Of course he is.”
Nanami handed her a lunchbox. “Back by six.”
“Don’t give me rules in front of the furniture guy,” she muttered.
Geto’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder. “Say goodbye, sweetheart.”
“Bye, magic prince,” she chirped. “Don’t turn into a tree.”
“I’ll do my best.”
The door clicked shut behind them.
Nanami stared at it for a long beat.
“Your co-parenting seems… tense,” you offered.
“I’m going to lie down on the floor.”
“That’s fair.”
⋆｡°✩
Down in the subway, Toji checked the note pinned to the inside of his jacket. A crude drawing of your face. A Tokyo address, scrawled in angry cursive.
He pulled out a polished apple, turning it slowly in his hand.
“Should’ve poisoned the horse,” he muttered.
But he took a bite instead—just to test—and promptly spat it out.
“Ugh,” he grimaced. “Too early for this.”
Then he tucked the apple away.
And followed the scent of magic through the city.
The next few days blurred.
You tried to adjust. Truly, you did.
But Tokyo wasn’t a fairytale kingdom—it was loud and messy and fast in ways you couldn’t quite understand. The birds didn’t sing back. The mice refused to sew. And your songs, no matter how sweetly sung, only earned you startled stares and someone in a bear costume handing you a flyer for a karaoke bar.
Nobara took it all in stride. She made you a “Do Not Pet the Pigeons” sign after you got pecked in Ueno Park. She showed you how to use a vending machine. She explained what an elevator was only after you had screamed.
Nanami… tolerated you.
Most of the time.
He scowled when you rearranged the bookshelf into colour-coded rainbow order. He gave you a deadpan look when you introduced him to your “talking shirt” (it wasn’t talking, you just liked it). But he never made you feel stupid. Or small. Or wrong.
And sometimes—only sometimes—you caught him watching you. Like he was trying to solve something he’d forgotten how to understand.
Those were your favourite moments.
⋆｡°✩
Toji arrived on day four.
You were at the apartment alone, dancing with a mop (named Gregory) to a tune you were humming. You twirled toward the door just as the bell rang and flung it open with a smile.
The man on the other side was all shadows and scar tissue.
“Oh!” you said. “Are you a delivery—”
The world tilted.
You hit the floor hard, dazed, a sharp smell filling your nose as something was shoved under it.
“Breathe deep,” the man said, crouching beside you, voice low. “Apple extract. You’ll be out in thirty seconds.”
You blinked. “Is that supposed to be threatening?”
“I mean…” He hesitated. “Yeah?”
“Oh.” You frowned. “It just smells like cinnamon.”
He blinked back at you.
You both stared.
“…Are you immune to poison?” he asked.
“No, just—very good at holding my breath.”
Toji groaned. “Of course you are.”
You scrambled backwards across the tatami mat, brandishing Gregory like a sword. “Are you a bandit? An assassin? A disgruntled pastry chef?”
“I’m your fate.”
“That’s very dramatic.”
Toji lunged—and was immediately tackled to the ground by an eleven-year-old with a bag full of textbooks.
“GET AWAY FROM MY GUEST!” Nobara screamed, absolutely feral.
Toji wheezed. “What the hell—”
Nanami arrived thirty seconds later, briefcase in one hand, tie askew.
He took one look at the scene—Toji pinned to the floor, Nobara biting his sleeve, you holding Gregory like a knight in training—and sighed so hard you could feel it in your bones.
“I don’t even want to know,” he muttered.
Then calmly tasered Toji.
You never loved anyone more.
Toji hit the floor with a grunt, the taser still humming in Nanami’s hand like the ending chord of a very satisfying song. Nobara stood over him triumphantly, arms crossed, one knee planted on his back like a gladiator claiming her kill.
“That’s what you get for sneaking up on a magical prince,” she said, breathless but proud.
“I’m not sneaking,” Toji groaned, dazed. “I rang the doorbell. I had manners.”
Nanami sighed and stepped over the fallen assassin, loosening his tie. “I told you,” he said, eyes on you, “don’t open the door for anyone.”
“I thought he was delivering something!” you said, indignant. “He looked vaguely gift-shaped!”
“He had a knife.”
“It was sheathed!”
Toji coughed. “You guys are the weirdest hostage situation I’ve ever seen.”
Nanami turned to him. “You’re going to explain everything. In detail. And if the words ‘poisoned apple’ come up again, I swear to god—”
Toji lifted his hands weakly. “Alright, alright. Let me sit up first. Your daughter’s kneecap is in my kidney.”
“She’s not my daughter,” Nanami muttered.
“Rude,” Nobara said.
⋆｡°✩
After Toji was zip-tied to a dining chair (you were very proud of that knot, by the way), he admitted to working for “a certain powerful woman”—which, with a little pressing, turned into “Queen Meimei,” which then quickly turned into “look, I just do what I’m paid for, alright?”
“She sent you to kill me,” you said, arms folded, standing like judgment incarnate in your mismatched pyjamas.
“I mean, she said gently assassinate, but yeah.”
Nanami looked at him, stone-faced. “That’s not a real phrase.”
Toji gave him a lopsided grin. “It is in my line of work.”
“And where did you even get these apples?” Nobara asked, sniffing one suspiciously. “They look like they’ve been dipped in nail polish.”
Toji groaned and leaned back in the chair. “Look, I just need the guy to go back through the magic well, and everything’s fine. No more apples. No more death. No more me being choked out by an eleven-year-old.”
“Ten and a half,” Nobara corrected.
“I stand corrected.”
You tilted your head. “So... you’re not evil. You’re just... working retail for witches?”
Toji blinked. “Honestly? Yeah.”
Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is insane.”
You smiled widely. “But at least now we know I am cursed! Which means if we find the well again, I can return to Andalasia and marry Saturo—Gojo. Prince Gojo.”
And just like that, the room went silent.
You didn’t notice. You were already dreaming aloud again, pacing slowly, hands gesturing at nothing. “He must be worried sick. I hope he’s okay. He’s probably searching every corner of this strange kingdom for me as we speak—”
⋆｡°✩
Gojo sneezed into a Tokyo metro map, upside-down, perched on top of a garbage truck.
“Megumi,” he muttered, “I think we’re lost again.”
The chipmunk on his shoulder did not answer.
Nanami didn’t say anything.
He just turned, walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge with slightly more force than necessary. The door creaked like it was used to this. Like it had seen one too many magical princes show up in silk pants, talking about true love.
You stood frozen in the centre of the room, suddenly aware of how quiet it had gotten.
Toji raised a brow from the dining chair. “So. That’s awkward.”
Nobara leaned against the wall, chewing her rice cracker. “He’s jealous.”
“What?” you blinked. “Jealous of Gojo?”
She nodded sagely. “Mmhmm.”
Toji chuckled. “Yeah, buddy. He is so in love with you.”
“I—he’s not—” You faltered. “He barely even likes me.”
“He let you reorganise his bookshelf,” Nobara said.
“He cooked for you,” Toji added.
“He let you stay on the good couch.”
You blinked. “There’s a bad couch?”
Toji pointed. “You’re sitting on it.”
“Oh.”
You turned slowly, looking toward the kitchen. Nanami was still there, still pretending not to listen, still staring into the fridge like he expected it to give him emotional clarity.
You bit your lip.
“I didn’t mean to make things weird,” you said quietly.
Toji rolled his eyes. “You’re a singing forest prince. Things have been weird since you showed up.”
Nobara nodded solemnly. “He needs a push.”
“A gentle push,” you emphasised. “Not—”
She was already gone.
You heard her in the kitchen.
“Hey, Nanamin,” she said sweetly. “You still into emotionally repressed denial, or should I start calling him Dad?”
Nanami choked on his water.
You sank into the couch. “I’m going to die here.”
⋆｡°✩
Meanwhile, across the city, Gojo had decided that the best way to find you was to sing louder.
He stood on top of a moving float in a parade he was not invited to, throwing roses and belting ballads while Megumi tried to chew through his robe in protest.
“Where is my prince, so noble and kind—”
A child threw a soda at him.
“Rude,” he muttered. Somewhere above, a crow perched on a lamppost and cawed once, low and warning.
Back in her suite, Meimei tapped a finger to her wineglass and smiled slowly.
It was time for her to take matters into her own hands.
You stood by the window after dinner, watching the lights of the city flicker like stars fallen to earth. There was a moment, quiet and small, where it hit you all at once. The strangeness. The softness. The fact that you hadn’t sung in days and didn’t miss it like you thought you would.
Behind you, Nanami moved through the kitchen like a man on autopilot. Cleaning a plate. Drying a cup. Never looking directly at you.
“I didn’t mean to make things difficult,” you said, breaking the silence. “With Gojo. With everything.”
Nanami paused. His reflection met yours in the window, faint and ghostlike.
“You didn’t,” he said. “You just reminded me that... I used to believe in love, once.”
You turned. “You still do. You just don’t want to.”
He leaned against the counter. “Maybe.”
There was a beat.
Then—
“Are you going back to him?”
The question caught you off guard.
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I was so sure, before. But now… there’s something about this world. It’s messy and loud and everything hurts more, but it’s also real. And honest. And—”
You looked at him.
He was already looking at you.
“I think I’d miss this,” you whispered. “You.”
The air thickened between you. You took a step forward. So did he.
And then—
“Formal invitation,” Nobara announced from the hallway, holding a sparkly gold envelope. “From Geto’s weird rich cousin. You’re all invited to a ball tomorrow night.”
You stared at her.
Nanami groaned.
“I already picked your outfits,” she added.
Of course she did.
⋆｡°✩
The next evening arrived faster than you expected.
The ballroom shimmered in warm gold and marble. The floor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the chandeliers like upside-down constellations. You stepped inside in a suit that Nobara had helped tailor herself, complete with lace cuffs and a soft lavender ribbon at your collar. You hadn’t seen Kento yet, and your chest ached with how badly you wanted to.
Then he appeared.
Dark vest, gold trim, hair swept just slightly off his brow. He looked uncomfortable and perfectly composed. But when he saw you, really saw you, something softened around his eyes.
“Wow,” you breathed.
He stepped closer. “Likewise.”
There was music, low and elegant.
He offered you his hand.
And when you took it, the world fell away.
You danced like you’d known each other forever. Quiet steps. A shared rhythm. A warmth you didn’t know how to carry in words. His hand on your back. Yours at his shoulder. Eyes never leaving one another’s.
When the final note faded, he didn’t let go.
And when he walked you home through the quiet streets—through alleys lit by vending machines and the distant hum of traffic—you didn’t want to say goodbye.
So you didn’t.
You took his hand.
Led him upstairs.
And kissed him like it was the only magic you still believed in.
⋆｡°✩
He led you to the bedroom like he was afraid the spell might break. The city lights spilled in through the blinds in fractured gold, brushing along your skin when he pushed your jacket from your shoulders, slow and careful. When you reached for him, it was with both hands and everything you hadn’t said all evening.
He was warm beneath your touch. Real. No prince. No fantasy. Just him.
And you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted a fairy tale.
He kissed you as if he meant to remember every sound you made. His mouth moved slowly along your jaw, your collarbone, down the centre of your chest—each touch deliberate, tender. His hands never rushed. He made room for you to gasp, to pause, to smile between breaths. He only moved closer when you pulled him in.
“You’re beautiful,” you whispered.
He touched your face like he wanted to say something back, but just couldn’t.
⋆｡°✩
Clothes slipped away quietly. The warmth between you built in slow waves—hands gliding over skin, mouths tracing every curve, breath curling soft and shaky in the quiet.
It was not hurried. It was not practised.
It just was.
Every sigh from you drew one from him. Every time you reached for him, he was already there. When he finally pressed against you fully, it wasn’t about lust—it was something deeper. A need to feel known. To be held in a way that felt like truth.
You trembled. He kissed you through it. Moved slowly. Anchored you.
The rhythm you found was soft. Gentle. Like music made without notes. It built in heat, not force. In need, not hunger. Until the world narrowed to just breath and skin and the steady echo of your name on his lips.
You let go with your head tilted back and your heart aching with how much you felt. He followed, arms wrapped around you like he didn’t want to let go. As if he were terrified you’d vanish if he blinked.
⋆｡°✩
Later, the two of you lay tangled in quiet.
His fingers trailed absent-minded patterns against your spine. You watched the light move across the ceiling and listened to the city outside. For the first time in your life, you didn’t wonder if this was a dream.
You knew it was real.
And that, somehow, was even better.
The morning came softly.
You woke with Nanami’s arm still draped across your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck. The light through the curtains was a pale gold, gentle, hesitant. The kind of morning that didn’t rush you.
You didn’t move at first.
Not because you were afraid—but because you didn’t want to disturb what felt, impossibly, like peace.
When you did shift, just slightly, his grip tightened. A subtle, instinctive pull that made your chest ache in the best way.
You turned to face him.
He blinked once, slowly, then smiled the smallest, softest smile you’d ever seen on him. No walls. No filters. Just… him.
“Good morning,” you whispered.
He answered with a kiss, quiet and unhurried, like a secret passed between you.
For a few minutes, there was nothing but the rustle of sheets, the hush of breath, and the way his hand never left yours.
Until the doorbell rang. You both froze.
Nanami groaned. “Tell me that’s not your enchanted raccoon again.”
You laughed. “Megumi is a chipmunk.”
“Not better.”
You pulled on your robe as Nanami padded to the door. He opened it—
And found Toji standing on the other side, holding out a glinting red apple in the palm of his hand.
“I come bearing brunch,” Toji said. “Very specific brunch.”
Nanami frowned. “You’re supposed to be in jail.”
“I was bored.”
You stepped into the hall, hair tousled, smile still warm from sleep. “Oh! Good morning—”
“Don’t eat that,” Nanami cut in, pointing at the apple. “That’s definitely cursed.”
Toji looked wounded. “What, just because it’s glossy and red and I’m a former assassin working for a magic sociopath? Wow. Judgmental.”
You squinted at it. “Is it poisoned?”
Toji hesitated. “Maybe just a little.”
Nanami reached for the taser.
Toji backed up. “I didn’t give it to him yet! Geez. No appreciation for dramatic timing.”
⋆｡°✩
But later that evening, after laughter, after tea, after something that felt dangerously close to happiness, you stepped into the kitchen alone.
The apartment was quiet. Nanami was brushing his teeth. Nobara had passed out face-first on the couch.
And there, sitting in the fruit bowl like it belonged, was the apple.
Red. Shiny. Smelling faintly of roses and honey.
You stared at it. A whisper trailed through your thoughts.
Forget him.
Forget all of this.
One bite—and it all goes back to the way it was. The ball. The prince. The perfect fairytale ending.
You reached out. Touched the apple’s skin.
And just as your fingertips curled around it, A voice behind you said, silk-smooth and evil:
“I knew you’d choose the story over the ending.”
You turned.
Meimei stood in the doorway, all dark velvet and cold eyes.
And in that moment, you knew.
This wasn’t over.
You stepped back instinctively.
The apple clattered to the floor, rolling a few inches before coming to a stop, glinting under the overhead light like something out of a dream you no longer trusted.
Meimei smiled, slow and catlike. She looked impossibly at ease, standing in Nanami’s kitchen like she owned it. Not a wrinkle in her dress, not a hair out of place. Like she hadn’t crossed dimensions to murder you.
“Not quite the fairy tale you imagined, is it?” she said. “Too loud. Too grey. Too human.”
Your hand hovered behind you, searching for the counter. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Her eyes gleamed. “Neither should you.”
Nanami’s voice rang from down the hall. “Everything okay?”
You opened your mouth to answer, but Meimei was already moving.
Her hand struck with blinding speed, a push like wind and stone. The world lurched. You slammed back into the cabinet with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs.
“You should’ve stayed in the story,” she said. “Married your prince. Let me keep my crown.”
Your vision blurred. You tried to speak—call out, cry for Nanami—but the words got lost between your heartbeat and the copper taste in your mouth.
Meimei knelt beside you, lifted the fallen apple with two fingers.
“Don’t worry,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It’s painless. Mostly. And after midnight, no one will remember you anyway.”
You reached for her wrist.
She offered the apple.
You hesitated.
And that was all she needed.
She pressed it to your lips—gentle, deceptively so—and the moment your teeth sank in, the world tipped sideways.
The floor vanished.
Your limbs went cold.
And then everything went black.
⋆｡°✩
Nanami found you less than a minute later.
The apple was split open on the tile. Your body lay crumpled against the cabinets, motionless. Too still.
For a second—just one—he couldn’t move.
Then he was at your side. Kneeling. Shaking your shoulders. Repeating your name over and over like it was a prayer he was too late to make.
Your eyes didn’t open.
Your chest didn’t rise.
Nobara screamed from the living room. Toji cursed. Someone called Geto. But all Nanami could do was hold you—arms wrapped tight around your limp frame—while the clock on the wall ticked closer to midnight.
And nothing happened.
⋆｡°✩
They gathered at the ball.
Meimei, radiant and smug, stood on the highest balcony like a queen crowned by cruelty. Gojo arrived too late. Nobara cried so hard her nose bled.
And Nanami—quiet, steady, breaking in the worst way—pressed one final kiss to your lips.
“I love you,” he whispered, broken.
And just as the clock struck twelve—
You breathed.
Your fingers curled in his lapel.
And your eyes opened.
⋆｡°✩
Meimei screamed.
She transformed—claws, wings, teeth. A dragon in heels. She lunged for Nanami. For you.
And you, in your borrowed suit and bare feet and messy hair, picked up the nearest decorative sword and ran.
You climbed, ducked, and dodged. She followed. Fire at your heels. Wind at your back.
On the rooftop, it ended.
One wrong step. One well-timed slip.
She fell.
And you watched as the last petal of the old story turned to ash on the breeze.
⋆｡°✩
The next morning was warm.
Gojo returned to Andalasia. Geto stayed behind, promising to stop being dramatic about joint custody. Toji left Tokyo with a train ticket and a new appreciation for tasers.
You opened a small fashion studio.
And Nanami?
He stood beside you, hand in yours, watching Nobara chase pigeons down the street.
in another life, i would make you stay a gojo satoru (fix it) fic
pairing ⸺ reincarnated!gojo x reincarnated!reader
summary ⸺ you are a sorcerer, married to your husband who bears the burden of being the strongest. firsthand, you watch the love of your life fall apart, the world burdening him until, finally, he dies at the hand of sukuna. as you watch him through the broadcast, you blankly volunteer to be next and you die, praying to whatever merciful god out there that, in another life, you and satoru get the happy ending you both deserved—
until you wake up from your dream, gasping. why the hell was your dream so vivid? you were some sort of magician? with a smoking HOT husband? and why the fuck does the guy that's ten minutes late to the first day of lectures look EXACTLY like him?
warnings ⸺ eventual smut fluff and angst (the holy trinity of aashi longfics), hurt/comfort, reincarnation fic, basically you and gojo have a miserable life in canon and get reincarnated into a modern au where i fix everything and give you the romcom you deserve, canon typical violence, jjk manga spoilers, mentions of blood and injury, major character death, fem reader implied
a/n i'll see u at the end :3
December 23, 2018.
“How do you feel?”
The both of you lay, side by side on the grass as you stared into the sky. The only sounds that surrounded you were the occasional rustle of leaves, the hum of the late afternoon cicadas, and the soft, almost inaudible rise and fall of your breathing.
The stars were really bright that day.
The sounds of nature were even more tangible in the absence of traffic. After the culling games had roped in both non-sorcerers and sorcerers alike, no one went out, so the roads were all virtually empty.
Satoru frowns thoughtfully, in a way that makes his nose scrunch up. His fingers play through your hair absentmindedly as he comes up with a response. With the way he’s thinking, your heart aches to tell him that you want his honest feelings, his doubts and fears, not some fake image he perpetually paints on for the rest of the world. You temper the urge.
“Fighting Megumi is gonna be…weird,” he says finally, with a sigh. “I’m just glad the real pain in the asses are out of the way.”
You remember the day he had come back from killing the higher ups. There was still blood matting his face and hair, dried and flaking. His eyes had long lost their light, and when you had got him alone in your shared room, grabbed a washcloth to wash his face. While you made sure none of the blood was still there, he had asked: Did I do the right thing?
It had taken three face towels to clean it all. The others had gotten soaked too quickly.
He continues. “I’ve been walking toward changing the system for so long, I forgot how to want anything past it.”
You tilt your head to look at him. His eyes are on the sky, as if trying to memorize every cloud.
“You can still want things,” you murmur. “Even now.”
What is left unsaid from you is, You can run away with me.
It’s a pipe dream at best. He was born with the shackle of the six eyes, born in the prison called The Strongest. Running away from it all was as possible as it was for Sisyphus to escape the burden of rolling the rock forever.
At your words, he huffs out a laugh and turns his head just slightly, eyes meeting yours. The blue of them is softer in this light, dusk and gold turning them the color of worn glass. “I do,” he says. “I want a stupid house with a stupid yard and a dumb dog who only listens to you.”
You laugh, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes. “The dog would accidentally eat your god-awful heap of chocolates and drop dead.”
“Okay, then maybe not a dog then,” he accedes. “I could do with a cat. Just don’t confiscate my chocolates.”
Your voice is a bit stuffy when you reply with, “I would never.”
“Good,” His smile is crooked now, warm. “If I had all the chocolates and the cakes you bake for the rest of my life, I would die a happy man.”
“You already have those, Satoru,” you laugh wetly.
“Yeah, but I want grocery lists and laundry days and boring Tuesday nights. Not endless mission reports. God, I’m definitely not going to miss the paperwork,” he groans, and his tone would sound petulant to anyone else; to you, it’s a reminder of how he’s been worked to the bone.
You roll closer to him, forehead brushing against his temple. “We’ll have all of it.”
There’s a beat of silence. The wind rustles through the trees again. He closes his eyes and breathes it in, like he’s trying to make a home of it. You can’t help but look at his serene face and think,
I love you.
It goes unsaid.
Then, “You’ll wait for me?” he asks, almost like a joke.
You turn to him, gaze softening as it lingers on the line of his jaw, the sweep of his lashes, the eyes you’ve loved in a thousand different lights. He’s so beautiful it aches—like something out of a dream or a poem scribbled by a lonely poet on a dirty street, staring up at a beauty wistfully peering out of a window of a high tower.
“Always.”
December 24, 2018.
He looks like he’s watching the sky again.
You are staring down at the shape of him broadcasted through Mei Mei’s crows. The ground is soaked, and the sky doesn’t seem to know whether to rain or just stay gray. His eyes are open.
But you know better. And still, you wait.
Around you, there’s chaos. Your students, in disbelief, are talking loudly but it’s as if everyone around you is talking underwater, none of their words comprehensible. You feel someone shake you, but you’re still staring.
His eyes aren’t closed, but he looks peaceful.
The air thrums with cursed energy, of people in utter shock, and with fear so thick it could choke.
But all you can think about is a stupid patch of wildflowers blooming in your yard. They would’ve been his favorite color—blue, like his eyes when he was teasing you. Like his eyes when he told you he wanted a dumb dog and boring Tuesday nights.
You were going to plant them for him every spring.
You were going to make him cakes every time he forgot his own birthday.
You were going to grow old together.
Instead, you’ll be the one laying flowers on his grave. Alone.
“I’ll go,” you say.
It’s too quiet. Someone protests. You don’t even hear who.
“I said I’ll go.”
You’re already stepping forward. The fight is miles away but it doesn’t matter—you’ll find it. You’ll find Sukuna. You’ll follow the stench of blood and ruin until it leads you to him.
You know your death is imminent, but there is nothing left to want anymore. Because a future without Satoru is no future at all.
As you make your way through Shinjuku rapidly, you can’t help but think of Yuji—his eyes wide and boyish, despite everything—as he shoved a flyer into your hand and told you to try that ramen shop with him once this was all over.
You remember Megumi’s ginger candies, the ones you had to keep hidden or Gojo would eat them all in one go. They’re still sitting in a dish by the kitchen window.
You remember Shoko’s voice when she said, “Just come back alive, okay?”
You remember Nanami, and Utahime, and Nobara. You remember every stupid, beautiful person you’ve ever loved.
You love them, but love doesn’t always save you; instead, it makes you walk straight into the fire.
Your life had begun when Satoru had saved you from that lonely, dark prison you were forced into; you remember how you had thought that he was akin to a glowing deity, descended from heaven to be your savior. A discarded animal like you, made to believe you were human again by this savior.
So it feels right, in a terrible, sacred way, that your life should end with him, too.
When you finally spot Sukuna, you put up a good fight, but anyone who watches you knows you are resolved, have accepted your fate and prefer death. You don’t scream or cry when it happens; you stare at his face when your body is cleaved into spilling your blood like an endless dam.
You just think: I kept my promise.
I waited.
Then, as you feel everything growing darker and darker, there’s only one thought left, just a silent prayer to whatever god that might still be out there:
Let us try again.
Please—let us try again.
…
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
You wake up from your dream, gasping.
The noise your alarm makes is an unfriendly wake-up call; in your furious effort to locate your phone—which has found itself nestled in your messy blankets—you notice your roommate, Maki, blearily shifting. You madly search to minimize the yelling you’re going to get from her later in the day (you’re already cooked by this point), until silence blankets the room once more.
It’s only until your phone is silenced that you register how fast your heart is beating. Then, when you trudge over to the personal bathroom you and Maki share and flick the light switch, you see that tears had flowed down your cheeks in your sleep.
What a weird fucking dream.
One to have on your first day of classes for the semester, too. You squint at your reflection, the fluorescent light doing your sleep-addled eyes no favors as you grudgingly get ready, brushing your teeth and washing your face and all that. You don’t know why it was so vivid.
From the dredges of your mind, you first recall the flashing light beams and carnal violence in the destruction of the city, and then you. Were you some kind of magician? It was kind of like…Winx Club, but you weren’t a cunty fairy in cute clothes. Something about sorcerers, so maybe Harry Potter? Hunter X Hunter?
You spit out the frothy mix of your saliva and the mouth freshener. So ridiculous. You couldn’t even blame stress for the weird fanfiction at this point—classes haven’t even started.
Memories of the dream ebb and flow as you try hard to remember what else had occurred as you wipe your face. Gazing upon the white of the moisturizer you’re dabbing on your skin, a flash of white suddenly resurfaces.
Gojo.
A violent feeling overcomes your chest at the name, and you think you’re having a heart attack with the way it clenches like you’re almost about to weep in longing of a beloved. You gasp, cupping the left side of your chest as you try to lower your heart rate.
What hurts most of all is the searing pain, like a spiral of thinly corded string has branded itself on your ring finger. In your rush to look up in the mirror to see what could be hurting you, you don’t notice the red glow it forms. What you see in the see in your reflection surprises you: you’re crying again.
Tears have fully started streaming down your face with the pain, carving wet valleys on your cheeks as they went. After your heart rate slows down, you frown while looking down at your hands. Why were they shaking?
You repeat the name numerous times in your brain, each time causing you to physically tweak. Gojo, Gojo, Gojo, and then resurfaces Satoru, Satoru, Satoru—
It’s after the tenth time you repeat his name that your body seems to calm itself down and get accustomed to whatever emotional shock that coursed through your name after you mentioned his name. His name originally came up because you remember the main person in your dream: the white-haired man. He was the reason you decided to confront that…three armed man? Or did he have four arms? Regardless, you basically offed yourself after he died because you loved him, or something. With the way your body seems to physically shake at the sheer thought of his name, as if the utter image of longing, love may not have been enough to describe what you felt.
Realizing that you’ve drifted off at reminiscing sleepily, you start, as if suddenly animated. You pat your skin, setting in the final step of your skincare routine. Then, you click on your phone screen to check the time.
And notice immediately that you are going to be late.
Then ensues you scrambling to your room, putting on your clothes, tripping on the floor in the process, getting a sleepy glare from Maki that has doubly certified that you are getting a scolding, and then finally making it out the door. The somewhat cool fall weather hits your face as you walk on the pavement, checking your clock repeatedly to ensure it hasn’t hit 9am yet.
When you make it into the lecture, you realize that it is packed. There aren’t many seats—it is a gen ed class after all, something on some ancient history, and you notice two empty seats, side-by-side, tucked away in the corner of the lecture room. You have to carefully maneuver yourself down the seats.
Navigating the maze of limbs and backpacks, you mumble a series of "excuse me’s" and "coming through’s" until you squeeze past two guys—a stern-looking blond with glasses that scream "salaryman thirst trap" and a loud brunet beside him. Reaching your target, you slide into the seat that leaves an empty one between you and the blond. You’re very pleased about the extra breathing room.
Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.
You prepare your supplies to take notes on the first (of many) syllabus reviews to come. In the meantime, you’re privy to hearing the mumble and grumble of people around you; it’s only when a throat clears itself at the head of the class do you see a man—probably the professor of this class, Yaga—who has the slides already up. Ancient East Asian History is branded on the big white screen in bolded, black Arial font. Clearly, graphic design was not his passion.
His voice projects through the mic and is fairly deep and resonant, so it’s clear to everyone, despite the number of people in the room, that class is starting. As expected, the next slide is titled “What is Ancient East Asian History?”
“Let’s delve deeper into what I mean by East Asian. Asia is a subcontinent that’s home to a diverse set of cultures, and even so in East Asia…”
As Yaga speaks, time ebbs and flows around you. The monotonous sounds of papers flipping, pens scratching on paper, and the clicking of keyboards surrounds you. You can’t help but think the fluorescent lights, harsh and white, had to be designed to keep students from falling asleep, because their intensity paints the lecture hall in this weird lighting. The mood created by it is something akin to the filter horror movies perpetually have on—vivid, but cold and dark. Like when you’ve been up for too long to the point that you don’t know if it’s night, or morning, because it’s still dark out. Then, dawn breaks, the sun enveloping the sky in its warmth.
Suddenly, the heavy set of doors that serve as your lecture hall’s entrance open loudly—louder than someone who is sheepishly entering late. Instead of the usual indifference reserved for a fellow student who had slept in, the room ripples with murmurs and giggles, shattering the silence that had settled—save for Yaga’s lecturing.
You don’t look at first. You look at Yaga, who is pinching the bridge of his nose as he mutters, “In Japanese culture, punctuality is a form of respect—something we are clearly still learning.”
You don’t turn. You don’t need to. But, like a current pulling you under, your gaze follows the crowd’s. And you see him.
Gojo.
Suddenly, your heart clenches violently, and you can only help but gasp hoarsely and shut your eyes. If you didn't, streams of tears would flow down your face once more. You couldn’t help but swear internally; you had thought you had conditioned yourself to be stable at the mention of his name.
But, almost as if it’s subconscious, you wrench your eyes open, desperate to view the boy. You’d assume something apologetic, maybe. Rushed. Someone with their hood up, mumbling an excuse as they shuffle into the shadows of the back row. But this—
This is someone who walks like he knows the sound of his own footsteps matters. His ivory hair is tussled, like he had just rolled out of your dream. He looks a bit younger than he did when you had seen him, but his eyes are the same unmistakable brilliant, cerulean color.
Now, he’s making his way down the stairs, skipping every third one with his long legs. Something leaves his lips, and it’s something humorous—depending on how girls and guys around him laugh, a shared sense of adoration in their eyes. You can only help but watch as he comes closer and closer to you, and you remember belatedly that the seat next to you is the only empty one in the whole lecture hall.
Yaga huffs and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in barely concealed annoyance. “Nice of you to join us, Gojo.”
Gojo lifts a hand in a lazy wave. “Yaga, you ever tried finding parking on this campus?” The lecture erupts in barely muted half-sleepy giggles.
It’s only when a particularly loud high five he receives—by the brunet in your row—that you break out of your reverie and turn to your laptop, flustered. Any attempt to act nonchalant would be funny as if the thing that’s wrong with you—that invisible thing—hasn’t been rippling violently inside your gut the moment you laid eyes on him. Like your body has just been handed proof. Like a wound cracking open in slow motion.
He’s approaching, long legs trying to get through the sheer amount of people to where the empty seat next to you was, and when he’s there, right next to you, you shouldn’t look up.
But you do.
When your eyes meet his, something ancient and awful coils in your throat. A shiver, not of fear, but of recognition so buried it aches.
Pearly teeth and bright blue eyes glistening. A breathless, “Hi.”
And the invisible string, that had spiraled and corkscrewed itself into the jumble it was, pulls—until it is straight and wrung tight. You don’t know this boy. You’ve never seen him before.
So why does it feel like your heart just remembered how to break?
Your throat is dry, but you manage out a “Good morning.”
You turn back to your desk, your fingers quivering. By your side, he’s moving and rummaging through the contents of his backpack quite noisily, one that can be heard throughout the lecture hall if one were to tune out Yaga’s droning. In curiosity of seeing what was taking him so damn long to find, you turn your head slightly, and notice the heaps of wrappers—all pastel colored and bright, like candy and dessert wrappers—that his backpack is almost suffocated with. Then, he pulls out his laptop, opens it, and resumes the game of Run 3 he had paused beforehand.
Respectfully, what the fuck.
As if sensing your stare, he turns to you until meeting your eyes; you were caught. Like a deer caught in headlights, you helplessly stare back at him, heat creeping up your neck, and his gaze leaves your eyes to look at your lips, which you were biting.
Then, he leans in slightly—you also inching yourself back because why is he getting so close and why is your heart beating so fast—and whispers, “Do I know you?”
You’ve never seen him outside of the weird dream you had, and it would’ve been weird to admit that you’ve dreamed about him. “No, I don’t think you do,” you whisper back, voice hoarse.
His lips quirk in response, but, to your dismay, he doesn’t retract. His brows furrow while he stares at your face, as if deep in thought, and nods, flirtatiously saying, “Makes sense. I feel like I wouldn’t have forgotten you if I had met you.”
Despite the cheesy line, heat creeps up your neck, and you can’t help but bitterly look down at your desk after giving him a quiet, “No, I don’t we have. I’m sorry.” If he flirted with a stranger like this, dream you must’ve had a really hard time as his wife. Shameless.
And thus the lecture runs its course. Throughout, you’re tense, the heat of his presence never letting you relax. You feel every movement of his fingers, his forearms, as he played his games or typed miscellaneous things that you didn’t see because you were physically forcing yourself to stare at the lecture slides, back ramrod straight.
It’s only until his leg starts shaking that you start feeling…weird. His reaction is completely normal; you don’t blame him, because Yaga’s been going over the syllabus’ section of projects and how you can’t change project partners for over thirty minutes. But it’s the fact that a steady wave of nausea is building up inside you, until a sharp piercing sensation overwhelms your head.
Then, a vision.
It’s hazy, as if projected on cloudy water. A shaking leg, clad in what seems like uniform pants, underneath a small wooden desk. Then, a hand reaches out to yours, grasping it firmly, and you feel a weird sense of nausea once more. However, it’s not the same feeling you’ve been feeling since your dream—instead, it’s a stomach upturning feeling of being teleported somewhere.
A bed.
It’s a small one, in a room that resembles a dorm. The hand grasping yours isn’t simply grabbing your hand; it’s now trailing up your sock-covered ankle, up your calves, and then under your skirt—
The murky vision gets even murkier until you can’t register anything anymore. Then, you suddenly return, the fluorescent lights being the first thing you register after the weird deja-vu-memory thing. The feelings you felt from the vision linger, including overwhelming feelings of euphoria, lust, and sheer happiness that bloom in your heart warmly, like a flower in fresh spring.
You’re so distraught from the complicated jumble of feelings that have thrusted themselves upon you that you don’t hear Yaga say his concluding words. It’s the jarring, obnoxious screech! of the chair next to you—Gojo’s—that you jump to your senses and realize half of the students have left.
Thus, you hurriedly pack your things and book it the fuck out of there because you would rather die than be the last person to leave class, lest Yaga think you were staying behind to talk to him. You’ve had more than your fill of East Asian Studies today.
Maybe it’s best if you avoid Gojo, lest you slip up. The dream—and the weird reactions your body seems to be having in his presence—are too…peculiar. If something happened, you wouldn’t know how to recover.
In your haste, you don’t realize you’ve left something behind, nor did you hear the “Wait! You forgot….this” that Gojo had called out to you, staring at the object in his hand—and your retreating back—with a complicated expression.
next. the aftermath (soon!)
a/n short chapter, but this series is going to contain a mixture of: a lot of crack and fluff, yearning (as always, yall know me), and debilitating angst ("who did this to you??" oh i loved writing the angst) and crazy reunion sex. comment down below to be added to the taglist!!
to be clear, unless otherwise indicated, reader is getting these moments from the past as "migraines" / flashes / dreams.
M/N is a renowned Detective, who in the last couple of years raised to fame for his ability to catch multiple criminals of even already cold cases. Even when he looked like a bright hero in front of the citizens, he himself only did what had to be done in a corrupt world, even if his own methods speak against them.
Maybe M/N himself wasn’t that clean himself, there even lingered a few splatters of blood on his hands.
MDNI, what you consume is your own responsibility.
Top Male Reader x Yandere Male Harem
content warnings: yandere, blood, possibly gore, weapons, alcohol, smut, +
⋆⁺₊❅. WORD COUNT: 22.4k
⋆⁺₊❅. PAIRING: enhypen's park sunghoon x female!reader
⋆⁺₊❅. TAGS & WARNINGS: figure skating!au, skater!sunghoon, skater!reader, enemies to lovers!au, ex bsf!au, kind of second chance romance!au, a lot of fluff, a little smidge of angst, a dash of fake dating blink and you'll miss, you used to stake for korea (more abt nationality than ethnicity), some inner conflict, burnout themes, tbz eric as a plot device oops, some heated making out
⋆⁺₊❅. SYNOPSIS: at the age of 5, you thought that you had made a life-long friend in park sunghoon. at the age of 16, you found out that life-long meant 11 years before you decided he was going to be your life-long enemy. but at 21, you're confronted with your past together as your figure skating coach decides to move back home to where you used to skate together after almost 6 years away abroad.
⋆⁺₊❅. NOTES: i've been attempting to write a hoonie ice skating fic for years and years since ice skating has been one of my big interests (watching, not doing) even before enha debuted- that contributed to the fact that hoon was my first bias. it's finally come to fruition and the wc just kept getting longer and longer- hope it's not too boring! i just wanted to write some mostly cute fluffy skater hoon!!
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
At the age of 5, you thought that you had made a life-long friend in Park Sunghoon. At the age of 16, you found out that life-long meant 11 years before you decided he was going to be your life-long enemy. You meant it this time, you had told yourself in the mirror of the rink's female bathroom while your hands were gripping the sides of the sink so hard that your knuckles were turning white.
Since that moment that led you to stomping out of the rink while still wearing your skates (thankfully with the guards on) all the way home, you've seen Park Sunghoon a total of 3 times. You're 21 now, but every time you think back to that moment of your falling out, the dull ache lingering in your heart still explodes into a fireball and you have to remind yourself that you'll never let him hurt you the same again.
Your body is set aflame as the president of the ISU gestures with his arms in front of a sold-out crowd for you to skate towards him for the photographers to grab a shot. You're no stranger to pictures with President Kim, but he's also beckoning over the newly crowned 2023-2024 Grand Prix Final Men's champion in Park Sunghoon.
"Aw, my two favourites," Mr. Kim coos as he wraps an arm around each of your shoulders' and grins to the camera, "I always knew it was only a matter of time before I would have two Korean skaters at the top again."
You groan internally at the consequences of being in the same frame as Park Sunghoon. Ever since one of your former classmates anonymously shared to a huge figure skating fan account that you and Sunghoon used to be best friends, you've been receiving demands to share stories about each other, not knowing your current relationship. Well, they must know from the fact that you two don't even follow each other on Instagram. On the flip side, you've also amassed unfathomable hate from his crazy, obsessed fans to stay away. There's always those people.
You paid no mind to them anyway, since being near Park Sunghoon voluntarily was the last thing on your wish list.
Sunghoon keeps the fake smile plastered on his face but snarks out through his teeth, "She doesn't skate for our country anymore. She hasn't in 5 years."
Mr. Kim chortles as if he believed Sunghoon's words to just be banter, "Don't be so unwelcoming, Sunghoon. Y/N is still part of our family."
You held back a scoff, letting out a sigh instead when the photographer finally turned his attention away from the three of you, "Mr President, don't you think you should root for all countries? You're no longer just the president of the Korean Skating Union."
He laughs obliviously, "I know, I know. I guess I should. I love my country of course, but I'll always cheer for you too Y/N. You broke all of our hearts when you switched nationalities."
You refuse to turn your head to your former acquaintance who makes a sound crossed between a scoff and a pained laugh, "Yeah, she sure did. Goodbye, Mr. Kim." Sunghoon bows his body completely at a right angle, pressing the bouquet of flowers he was holding for his win up to his chest before skating away without another glance at you.
Mr. Kim looks at you sheepishly, "You guys are still not on good terms?"
"I don't think we ever will be," you subtly roll your eyes at the hostility from Sunghoon, "I'm sorry he's like that."
"It wasn't all that long ago that you would race each other around the rink at junior nationals after the gala would end," he reminisces fondly, "It would be such a shame for you to have to look back on your friendship with regret."
"The damage is done, Sir," you tap your blade repeatedly on the ice to distract yourself from the pain you felt every time you thought about your friendship, "I hope to see you here again next year."
"Congratulations on your win, my dear," he smiles graciously and lets you skate away after bowing goodbye.
While you were ecstatic about winning your second Grand Prix Final gold medal in a row, you were also happy to share the podium with two friends that you have gotten close and closer to as you spent more time on the circuit. You glided back towards them as they took selfies with their flowers and their medals, trying to ignore the burning feeling on your back as if someone was looking at you from afar.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
You liked to limit your interaction with Park Sunghoon to seeing him from afar once a year at the exhibition gala of the grand prix final or world's. It's only been two years that he's made the final, but you enjoyed another two without his villainous aura before that. Whatever deity you believed in had blessed you for the past 5 years; you hadn't been seeded to a single assignment with him through the seasons. There was definitely a force trying to keep you apart for the greater good of peace. You definitely took it as a sign that he wasn't meant to be back in your life anyway.
You thought that you had filled your quota this year with that little interaction with the president. You thought that you were finally in the clear for another year and you could move on with your life again without this god-awful memory weighing down on your chest every time you were in the same vicinity as him.
But Park Sunghoon stands before you, or more like crouches, as he tries to get a cola lollipop from the machine in the arcade of the hotel. It's not even been 24 hours since you last saw him.
When you spot him on the floor, you immediately turn on your heel to flee without being noticed. He has other plans, it seems.
"Did you know that you stomp like an elephant? For a figure skater, you're not very elegant on normal floors," Sunghoon doesn't take his eyes off the machine, watching as the conveyor belt trying to capture a lollipop turned and turned.
"Eat my ass, Park," you snipe back.
An amused smirk forms on his face as he turns his chin towards you, "Who knew you'd grow up so vulgar? That's quite unbecoming of you, Y/N."
"Don't say my name," you grunt, looking around for someone you know so you could exit this interaction, "In fact, don't even talk to me."
"As if you're the one who should be hurt. You moved continents and changed nationalities without a word," he scoffs, standing up and unwrapping the cola lollipop he had finally acquired, "Moving training locations, fine. But changing nationalities and not even warning your friends?"
If cartoon effects were real, there would be smoke coming out of your ears. You ball your fists tight and keep them glued to your side, "You were the one who broke my heart."
Sunghoon furrows his thick eyebrows together, halting the way he was moving the sweet between his lips. He takes it out and lets out an exasperated sound, "You never let me explai-"
You raise a hand to his face, "Save the bullshit, Park."
As much as a part of you wants to hear what he has to say, it still feels like the wound he inflected 5 years ago opens up anytime you hear his voice. All you could think about was that moment on the ice and the words he said that were sharper than his blades enough to cut deep into your heart. Honestly, you've tried to forgive him, or at least forget, but meeting his eyes now- you want to just run.
There's no longer any amusement in his expression, just frustration. You're satisfied with this, lunging forward to grab an unwrapped orange lollipop from his hand and walking away before he could register what you said or did.
You're breathing heavy; you hadn't let him affect you this way in years, but the anger is rising and the pain is overflowing out of the tiny box you kept it in and stored in the back of your heart. You sort of wish he'd run after you, grab your wrist and call your name, but you know that if you turn around right now, he'd still be in the same position.
It's been 5 years since you spoke to him, nearly 1 since you last saw him at the exhibition gala at the last World's. You don't intend to make a habit of Park Sunghoon again.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
Your best friend Chaehyun twizzles around you in what you think is the shape of a heart. She's been trying out fun tricks to go along with the new go-pro that her coach bought for monitoring her training. It flies above the two of you with a prominent buzz that you've learned to tune out. You're standing in the middle of the rink, looking up and visualising the crowd you'll face tomorrow when you start the competition.
"Excited? Nervous?" Chaehyun's voice is naturally sing-songy but it vibrates as she moves at lightning speed around you.
"The same," your breath condenses into a cloud in front of you, "Just getting bored, a bit."
"Yeah, must be boring winning gold every single year for the past 4 years," Chaehyun snides, but not unkindly, "Do me a favour and fall on your axel tomorrow? I wouldn't mind having a world's medal."
"I would, but," you trail off and follow her with your eyes, "I want to go out with a bang."
Chaehyun immediately comes to a stop and rushes over to you, "What? What did you say?"
"I don't know if I should retire at the end of this season," you admit gingerly, gnawing on your bottom lip, "I'm just kind of exhausted."
Chaehyun gives you a weary look, "This doesn't have anything to do with seeing Sunghoon again in Beijing right?"
Your eyes widen at the mention of his name, "Chae, what? No! Why would it be?"
"Well, you cried all night after seeing him in the hotel," she reminded you, "And your coach wants to move back to Korea again."
"She does and I don't want to have to switch coaches. She's been with me since I was a junior, but I really can't move back to Seoul again," you tell her, "It's partly because of Sunghoon; all the memories would just hurt me over and over again the second I step foot in the country. Other than that, I've built a life on this side of the world."
Chaehyun scoffs at you, "Built a life? Your family is still in Korea and me, your best friend, is too. Your parents are getting older and you make them fly out to you every occasion. You shouldn't let Sunghoon dictate your life like this. You literally told me that you want an Olympic gold."
Your memories flash back to August, when you were vacationing with your best friend and drinking margaritas by the seaside, "2026 is really far away."
She gives you a strong side eye, "We can talk about this over dinner. You're literally the best female skater right now; you can't just retire at 21!"
"Alysa Liu retired at 16," you mumble.
Chaehyun smirks vindictively, "And Alysa Liu just announced her return at 19. Look, take a break, do what you need, but please don't give up on your dream so early."
Before you could say another word, a voice echoes in the arena, "Hey, it's our turn to practice."
Both of your heads whip around to the tunnel, where a few tall figures came into the light. Your head moves to the sudden movement of your coach, beckoning you to come off the ice after the end of the senior women's practice. You had wondered why there was no one kicking you off after your slot had finished.
"Heeseung," you grin at the sight of the cherry-haired boy, skating over to him and ignoring the presence of one ex-best friend beside him, "I haven't seen you in forever."
You clasp the boards tightly, swinging the gate open and sliding the guards over your skates. Heeseung is 3, 2, 1 step away from you and he takes you into a warm hug.
"I know," he coos into your hair, "It's a shame that Sunoo got injured and had to withdraw, but here I am in his place!"
You had known Heeseung nearly as long as you knew the boy beside him. When you and Sunghoon joined your skating club, Heeseung had been there for a year already. Through the years, he grew into a sort of older brother figure for the both of you and you never lost contact with him. The past season, he had been struggling with an injury and took off time to heal, but he recovered in time for nationals and placed 4th. Sunghoon had won the gold, Sunoo the silver and Jungwon the bronze. As Sunoo fell victim to an injury in practice in between nationals and World's, Heeseung had been invited to fill the country's berth at the championships.
In the middle of your conversation with Heeseung, you notice Sunghoon stalk away behind you to step onto the rink. You hear him greet Chaehyun happily as he passed by.
"I heard you might be moving back to Korea," Heeseung mumbles lowly under his breath.
"How do you know that?" you furrow your eyebrows at him. Had he overheard you? Did Sunghoon overhear too?
Heeseung shakes his head, his bangs falling into his eyes, "Our coaches used to be partners, remember?"
You flick your gaze to your coach, who was happily catching up with her ex-pairs skating partner of nearly 2 decades. They used to coach at the same rink, but when your coach fancied a change of scenery and was offered a role she couldn't turn down, you followed her across the world. Of course she couldn't keep a secret from her very best friend despite you begging her not to tell anyone yet.
"Does Sunghoon know?" Thankfully, Sunghoon's coach was different and not very close to your coach as Heeseung's coach is.
Heeseung denies this again, "I wanted to talk to you first. What's up with that?"
"Taeyeon's missing home and she feels like she's learned all she could have from head coach," you sigh, "I miss home too, but I don't really want to move. I also think I might take a break for a season instead; I'm feeling burnt out."
5 years ago, your coach was offered to be mentored by the most successful coach in the world of figure skating. While you trusted her already with your life, you both agreed that being under a 2x Olympic winning coach would be beneficial, so you didn't hesitate packing your bags despite the distance it put between your home and your family.
Heeseung looks at you with sincere empathy, wrapping you up again in his arms, "I'm sorry you're feeling that way. Have you spoken to your coach about it?"
"Kind-of. She's going to take on more students when she moves back home so she won't suffer in that regard and she said if I do follow her, I can help coach and maybe get a certificate," you nod, plonking your face straight into his chest, "I don't know what to do, Heeseung."
"I'm not very good at giving pep talks or advice, but I trust you'll make the decision that's best for you," Heeseung murmurs, "Just follow your heart, I guess. Wherever your heart is being pulled to, there must be a reason."
"Hey! You're wasting time!" a sharp, deep voice resonates behind you, causing you to turn your head to watch Sunghoon glaring at the two of you like you just sabotaged Heeseung's career keeping him at the sideline.
"I'll be there in a sec, Hoon," Heeseung remains calm, knowing that his best friend always gets in a mood whenever you're around or you're mentioned near him. He turns back to you, "Are you busy? Do you want to watch us practise?"
To the side of you, Chaehyun is hunching over an iPad with her coach, deep in monitoring. Your coach waves your own device at you when you catch her eye.
"I guess we can monitor here," you tell him reluctantly, to which he smiles, "But if he says anything, let me know so I can leave. I don't want to deal with him right now."
Heeseung squeezes your shoulders and moves past you to reach the gate. Still unsure if you were making the right decision by staying when Sunghoon was under the same room, you make your way gingerly to your coach.
"What a lovely reunion," Taeyeon exhales happily, "Kibum's pretending he's not overjoyed I'm moving back to Seoul."
Kibum is standing shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the rink with Junho, Sunghoon's coach, and they chat animatedly while the boys warm up.
"That's nice," you mumble, fiddling with the iPad to get up your practice run.
Taeyeon continues beside you, "I think you should make up with Sunghoon if you're going to move back home. It'll just be a better atmosphere in the rink."
"I don't know if I will go back," you remind her, "And what's wrong with the atmosphere? We're not affecting anyone."
Your coach lets out the most dramatic scoff you think has ever been produced, "Y/N, sweetheart. The freaking glare that Sunghoon was giving you and Heeseung when you were talking and hugging could have evaporated all the ice in this building. I was scared and he wasn't even looking at me!"
Your eyes dart to him on the ice, slowly speeding up his camel spin. You get that he didn't like you, but what reason did he have for glaring at you when you weren't even looking his way? Unprofessional, you thought to yourself.
"That's his problem, not mine," you jeer, "Can we review?"
Taeyeon giggles at your attitude, "Okay, feisty. Look, all I'm saying is that I watched the two of you grow up together. You had such a special bond and yeah, 5 years is a long time to not be friends from your point right now, but when you're older, that's not gonna be anything if you make up now."
"It's not my choice, Taeyeon," you tap your fingers against the glass screen, "I really hate talking about this."
"One day I'll get it out of you what happened when you fell out," Taeyeon hums off-handedly, "Okay, monitoring. Your spins were great, but you were a bit wobbly on the-"
Despite being the one to encourage focus, you begin to tune her out when you notice in the corner of your eye that Sunghoon was warming up his jumps. You watch him breathe deeply and the way he keeps his eyes up and on the ice to visualise the jump he was going to do. You can't take your eyes off him as he takes off and you hold your breath watching him rotate so quickly in the air. The breath only escapes when his blade collides with the ice and he lands the quad lutz perfectly.
It takes you back to when you were 16 and he was struggling so hard to land this exact jump- one that even Heeseung was yet to master. You remember him falling over and over and over again, training it into the late hours of the evening when you were supposed to be at home and resting. You remember him kicking up ice with his blades in frustration, on the verge of giving up. You remember cooing a pep talk into his ear until he was motivated enough to try again for the last time and finally land it in your presence.
"Y/N," Taeyeon snaps in your ear, "You're actually a walking oxymoron."
"I may dislike him, but I never said he's a bad skater. If there's a good jump about to happen in front of me, I wouldn't ignore it," you fight back, "Okay, sorry, sorry. Focus."
"I'm getting dinner tonight with Kibum and Junho," she tells you suddenly, "Do you want me to not talk about moving back? In case Junho says anything to Sunghoon?"
You let your eyes flutter close as your head spins with all the decisions you had to make soon. Sometimes, you have no idea where you were going next or what event you're training for. It's times like those that you're desperate for the world to freeze at your command.
"I just need some time to think before I make any decisions."
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
You don't know where it all went wrong, to be honest. It probably started with the gold medal hanging around your neck and the hundreds of pairs of eyes peering up at you with their hands typing at the speed of lightning on their computers.
The journalist chosen to ask the next question has these sharp, inquisitive eyes.
"Your former nation, the Korean Skating Union has just published their congratulations on your gold medal and celebrating the return of coach Lee Taeyeon to Taereung National Training Center."
Your world stops and even the flashes don't affect your eyes anymore. You'll probably see these photos of you from the press conference all over figure skating twitter in a few minutes. Peripherally, you see Taeyeon's face contort into true horror as she scrambles to the mic.
"How is this going to affect your training? Are you relocating back to Korea with your coach?" the journalist finished up with a smile, as if she didn't just drop the biggest bomb with no warning. You guess it's not her fault; the KSU had spoiled the news too early.
In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter much. Skaters move locations and change coaches frequently; you'd done it once already. The only problem is you haven't told your family just yet... or Sunghoon, who still trained at Taereung with Heeseung and Chaehyun.
"We don't have any comments on that question as of now," Taeyeon pressed her lips together in a tense half-smile and motions for them to choose the next question.
You haven't moved since the question was asked, palms gripping the gold medal around your neck tightly. You don't remember answering many more questions actually and the next thing you know, you're sitting at the end of your hotel bed still in your national team tracksuit.
A rapid knocking begins at your door.
It takes you a few seconds to compose yourself and trudge over, but you sigh in relief when you see it's Chaehyun through the peephole.
"Chae, I'm so glad you're here," you exhale as you unlock the latches and open the door.
She gives you the most painful puppy dog eyes you've ever seen, "I'm so sorry."
"About what?"
Your heart stops again when Park Sunghoon steps into view from where he was hidden from the peephole. Immediately, your instinct is to close the door on both of them, but Sunghoon is quick to wedge his foot where the door is about to slam.
"Shit, shit, that hurts. I fucking have free skate tomorrow," Sunghoon curses under his breath with a hiss.
"I'm sorry, he's really convincing," Chaehyun tries to plead as you give her menacing looks.
Sunghoon crosses his arm and scoffs, still keeping his foot between the door and the frame, "All I asked was where her room was and you came up with the plan of pretending it was just you."
Chaehyun flushes pale and she pinches his arm, "Shut up! You said you wouldn't say!"
"Whatever this is-" you interrupt them harshly, "I don't care for it. So please leave."
Sunghoon rolls his brown eyes, finally using all of his muscle to push on the door and then on your shoulder to move you out of the way. He walks into your hotel room like it's his and gives you a smug look as he stands in the middle.
"Look, I think you two should talk," Chaehyun huffs finally, grabbing on the door handle from her side and pulling it shut, "Sorry, forgive me!"
The electronic door handle plays a quiet jingle as it locks and you're left in the room with your former best friend.
"I don't know what delusion is going through your head to make you think I'm going to stay in this room with you," you sneer, hurriedly budging past him to grab your phone, a hat and a jacket.
"Y/N-"
"Sunghoon, please," you yelp as his fingers clasp around your wrist, "What do you want from me?"
"I just want to talk," his voice is shaky, unsure, hesitant, but his grip is firm and his eyes search yours desperately.
"You want to talk? After 5 years of radio silence you want to talk?" you're frustrated as you snatch your arm back and shove him lightly on his shoulder, "I could have forgiven you if it was six months- a year, even. But 5? We're nothing more than strangers, Park Sunghoon."
Sunghoon winces visibly at your words, shutting his eyes for a second before giving you a pitiful expression, "Are you really moving back to Korea?"
You throw your hands up in the air and laugh dryly, "Are you being serious? You only care about me and want to be friends if I'm close by? As if you have no use for me if I'm somewhere else?"
"Y/N, don't put words in my mouth," Sunghoon begs. Every time he tries to step closer to you, you take a leap back. At this point, you're nearly pressed against the hotel room door, "I've always cared about you-"
"That's bullshit," you spit at him, "How can you say you've always cared about me when you're snappy at best whenever we see each other? How can you say you've always cared about me when you never called, not once, in 5 years?"
You can see his usual ice-cold, nonchalant front cracking in front of you, "I wanted to."
Hot tears sweltered on your water line, just a second away from escaping. They start streaming down your face when you begin to shove at him repeatedly, "You wanted to? Then why didn't you? Why didn't you fucking call, Sunghoon?"
Sunghoon's resolve shatters as he halts your wrist with his own and crushes you in a tight embrace that you try to fight your way out of, "I was angry, okay? I was angry that my first love practically left without warning before I could even tell her what she meant to me. I was angry that you only told me the day before you were leaving. I was angry that there was nothing I could do or say to make you stay. I was angry at the fact that you were going to be thousands of miles away from me, in a different time zone when I'd never known what life was like without you and suddenly I felt like I was being abandoned. I was angry because in all of my conscious memory up until then, you and skating were the only constant things in my life that made me happy. I didn't know what to do with myself without you."
You stop squirming against his body nearly immediately at the revelation, listening to his speech in near medical shock.
"W- what?" your voice is muffled into the material of his Team Korea fleece.
"That's all I wanted to say all these years," Sunghoon exhales like a weight is lifted off his shoulder, "I didn't know how to tell you."
"And if I don't move back to Korea, what are you going to do?" you're still crying, but you regain enough strength to pull away from his warm grip and look into his eyes that begin to flood identically, "How do you think that's going to fix anything?"
You're less than metre away from Sunghoon, but to him, you couldn't be any further apart with a rift in between you. He looks at you and you almost look exactly the same as five years ago. He knows that you're a much different person after the way he hurt you.
"I want to make it up to you, Y/N," he whispers unsurely, "I just-"
"Why did it take you 5 years and me potentially moving home to realise that?"
"I overheard Heeseung and Chaehyun talking about how you were considering retirement or a break," Sunghoon admits guiltily, "I didn't want to ruin anything for you trying to come back into your life when it all seemed so great in America. You've won nearly every medal there is to win. But I had no idea you've been struggling and it's killing me that I wasn't by your side and was adding to your hurt instead."
You make a mental note to bang your two friends' heads together the next time you see them.
"And what makes you think I want you to be by my side?" Sunghoon is the one squirming now, probably not expecting you to be relentless in your grilling. You're a different person than you were 5 years ago; you learned not to give in so easily when even those closest to you had the potential to hurt you.
"Just give me a chance to make it up to you," Sunghoon looks down at you with eyes full of sorrow. His lips are pulled downwards, and in another time, you would have been tugging on his hand to take him to the arcade, or the rink, or the park, or the river- to anywhere that would make him forget whatever was causing him woe, "Whether you're home or not."
You cross your arms and tilt your head to look away from him. You catch sight of the clock on your wall and see that it's nearing 11pm.
You manoeuvre around Sunghoon and begin to push him in the direction of the door, "You have your free skate tomorrow. This conversation isn't going to be the reason you lose; please go back to your hotel room and get some rest. Junho would kill me if he found out you were here this late."
Sunghoon is more than willing to comply with you now, "You're not gonna give me an answer
tonight?"
"I can't, Sunghoon," you tell him honestly, "I need to think about this; I need to think about so many things. It feels like my head's not even screwed on the right way right now."
"I'm sorry," he whispers as he turns the handle and opens the door wide, "Good night, Y/N. Thanks for listening to me even though I didn't give you a choice and congratulations on the gold."
Sunghoon makes it three steps away before you call out his name softly.
"Hm?" he turns around to see you half hidden by the door, chewing on your lip as you decide whether to spew out what you were going to say.
"You were my first love too. Anyway, good luck tomorrow."
The door handle jingles and Sunghoon is left alone in the hallway of the hotel, feeling as if his life had just turned around again. At the centre of it, there was always you.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
"You should go home and rest first," Taeyeon pretends to scold you as she reverses into the parking space. She's been giving the same spiel over and over again since she picked you up from the airport, but you knew she didn't mean it from the way she was still driving you to your desired destination.
"I got plenty of rest on the plane and my parents aren't back from work until later," you retort again and then smile, "The KSU gave you a big raise, huh?"
Taeyeon laughs airily and the grin doesn't fade from her face, "I want only the best for my favourite skater."
You nudge her softly when she puts the car into park, "Thank you for paying for my flight. You really didn't have to."
"I get it, you're richer than me," she rolls her eyes, "Let a coach do a nice thing for her student, okay?"
Technically, you're not Taeyeon's student right now, but as her very first and most successful one, you'll always be her favourite. In reality, the fact that the two of you lived alone together and took care of each other in America made you more like family. She was a cross between a mother and an older sister to you and Taeyeon doted on you so that you never felt alone in America. Well, mostly.
She beckons you out of the car and you take the elevator up to the ground floor from the underground car park. There's a bunch of checks that you have to pass upstairs and it feels foreign to you to have a lanyard with the words 'GUEST' printed on them repeatedly. Once upon a time, you ruled this place.
"They're gonna come back from lunch soon. I made Kibum tell them all to come for an announcement after lunch," Taeyeon giggles to herself as she explains her own conspiring.
You chuckle along with her, "You're more of a sucker for this kind of stuff than I am! Telling me to go home and rest when you've been working behind the scenes without me..."
Taeyeon slides her arm around your waist and squeezes you against her side. You pass the double doors into the rink that takes your breath away.
"I'm just glad you're home, Y/N."
Strangely, it looks pretty much exactly the same as when you last saw it. Sure, the seats are getting a little worn and the floors have new scratches from dropped skates or dragging equipment, but the ice is as pristine as ever. It's sparkling white and perfectly surfaced- though you note that's probably due to ahjussi and his zamboni that you see disappearing into the tunnel on the other side of the rink. Chaehyun updates you that your favourite caretaker who's been working at Taereung since you joined is still there and you hope it's him. It would be nice to say hello in person again after nearly 6 years of occasional hello's when you video call your best friend at her training.
Kibum spots you first and jogs around to give you a big hug, "Welcome back to Korea, Y/N. I'm so happy you're here."
"Thanks Kibum," you smile sincerely at him. Since all the coaches at Taereung were so close, having been partners or friends since their own professional days, their students naturally got to know the other coaches too. While Taeyeon excelled at guiding you on techniques, spins and jumps, Kibum used to help fill out and polish your program with flair, charisma and poise. There was a reason that Heeseung always had some of the highest grade of execution scores in every competition. You had definitely missed his input while you were away.
"They should be here soon. I think I can hear Chaehyun," Kibum points to the direction you came in from, "Are you gonna hide or-"
"Shut up. Shut up!"
You spin to see your best friend frozen at the entrance of the rink, her hands over her gaping mouth, "I think it's too late for that."
"Y/N!" Chaehyun breaks out into a sprint and throws her arms around you, knocking you nearly off balance and having to take a few steps back, "What are you doing here?"
"Surprise?" you laugh weakly into her hair, "Aren't you happy I'm here?"
"I'm so happy! How long are you staying? There's so much to do now!" she pulls away from you excitedly and looks at the two coaches, "Where's coach? Do you think she'll let me take a week off?"
"Chae," you stop her bouncing by pressing down on her shoulders, "Relax. I'm moving here. Until the end of this upcoming season, at least."
Chaehyun gasps in delight and embraces you again, "Oh my God, this is the best news ever!"
"We're here too, by the way," Heeseung coughs behind Chaehyun, "We're also happy to see her, so can you share?"
Chaehyun spins and sticks her tongue out at Heeseung, but moves anyway. His hair is black again and longer than the last time you saw him. Despite that, his hug is familiar and you're always comfortable in his presence.
"I knew you'd come sooner than later after Taeyeon came back," Heeseung teases you, "I'm happy to have you around again, sweets."
"Sweets was my nickname for her," Sunghoon's deep voice called out behind the two of you. He's standing kind of awkwardly- leaning against the side of the stands as to act casual.
You remember when you started getting pocket money from your parents. Instead of saving it to buy a new plush or makeup from the mall, you would instead use it to smuggle vending machine sweets to practice. You would secretly slip some to your best friend here and there, and you were always getting scolded by your coach for your incessant sweet tooth despite needing to keep fit and healthy as an athlete.
"Hi Sunghoon," you greet him simply, a soft half-smile pulling on your lips. You immediately notice the change in his appearance, "Love the blonde."
He's a few metres away from you and you can feel all your audience's eyes on you. His own eyes widen slightly at the compliment and he shyly runs his fingers through the platinum locks, "Thanks, Y/N. I'm glad that you're back."
Chaehyun seals her hand over her mouth, but you can still hear the, "aw!" that escaped through the cracks. You spin your head so fast to glare at her that it nearly gives you whiplash.
"Coach, can we at least have the rest of the day off and catch up with Y/N?" Heeseung turns to face Kibum and then at you, "You're not busy, right?"
"You can finish practice now, but Y/N literally just got off the plane, so let her rest if she's tired," Kibum warns the three skaters, "And tomorrow, business as usual, unfortunately."
Chaehyun claps her hands together and drags you with her, calling over her shoulder that she was going to change and they should too. The locker room is still as sterile as you remember it to be- your old locker now devoid of the stickers you used to plaster all over the front.
"So?" Chaehyun quirks an eyebrow expectantly at you as she removed all of her training gear.
"So what, Chaehyun?" you roll your eyes at the girl, tapping at your cheek with your chin in your hand.
"Please, you saw the way Sunghoon was looking at you," Chaehyun laughs in glee, "Oh, I've been waiting for this moment forever."
You ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks, "This is moving too fast. I can't be hating him the last time I saw him to now being buddy-buddy. We talked a bit, yeah, but he still hurt me a lot and we're not in the clear yet. Of course, our relationship will probably never be the same."
"It's been 4 months since World's," Chaehyun notes, "You haven't thought about what you want to happen since then?"
You cock your head and hum in thought, "A little, but I've been distracting myself with the ice shows and every time I think about the situation, it just hurts, so I prefer not to."
"Hoon seems more repentant these days, to be honest. He's kinda sulky every time he sees Taeyeon and you're not by her side. He keeps asking her if you're going to come too," she stifles a laugh in remembrance of his antics.
"Taeyeon never told me that," you raise your eyebrows in surprise.
Chaehyun zips up her training bag as she finishes changing into more summer-appropriate clothes, "All I can tell you is that I'm sure Sunghoon wants to reconcile."
You ponder on it thoughtfully, trying to consider the implications of making up and how you were to go about doing that. It's never as simple as saying sorry and hugging it out; you've been living with the hurt and resentment for 5 years now. It was more second nature to ache whenever you thought of him than to smile. Undoing that is never going to be easy, no matter how much you want to forget the past in an instant and move forward.
"Come on, let's go get drinks," Chaehyun interrupts your thoughts by locking her arm with yours and tugging to exit the locker room.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
When the news came out that you were going to take a break in the next figure skating season, it was safe to say that the whole industry was shocked. You just finished the best run of your career and showed no signs of slowing down. You hadn't even had to withdraw from any events for injury in 2 seasons!
Everyone was asking why- were you injured? Were you depressed? Were you pregnant? That one made you kick your fellow countryman Eric's heel from behind.
The press conference wasn't easy- how were you supposed to just say that you were exhausted and needed a break? Every skater was exhausted, right? There was even more speculation that you were going to switch nationalities again as your coach moved back to Korea and this break was just to hide the fact that you were riding out ISU's one year waiting period. You were glad to quickly shut that down.
For the past four months, you occupied yourself by participating in every ice show and tour imaginable; you loved skating just for the fans and their entertainment when there wasn't judges critiquing every inch of your movement. It took you a long, long time to make up your mind on what to do during your break. While it was so tempting to just stay in America and ignore everything waiting for you on this side of the world, your best friends and family were able to convince you that 5 years was a long time to be away from home. Another option was to just keep pushing on with a different coach at your rink, but you couldn't bring yourself to trust anyone else other than Taeyeon and the team you had already built and just thinking about facing the next season alone left a bad taste in your mouth.
You never informed Chaehyun of your final decision because you knew seeing her reaction in person would be worth it.
Chaehyun had been there to pick up all the pieces after your fallout with Sunghoon. The two of you had known each other for a while since you both skated at the National Training Center since you were juniors, but she was the only one from the rink that reached out after you moved. When you felt isolated in the US after you first moved, Chaehyun had been the one to call you every day despite the time difference to make sure you didn't feel so alone. While you were friends before, Chaehyun became a sister to you thereafter.
It's weird to see all the people you considered best friends or once best friends all around you at the same table.
"Where are you staying?" Heeseung sips on his iced tea casually. He's sitting in front of you, with Sunghoon next to him.
You shrug, "Probably with my parents. It's easier and free."
Chaehyun pouts, "I wish I had a spare room for you!" and then she looks at Heeseung and Sunghoon, "If you two sleep together in the same bed, Y/N can take the other room!"
Heeseung reaches over to flick Chaehyun's forehead, "Why don't you give up your bed then? Plus Hoon snores."
"And you sleep talk," Sunghoon scoffs at his house mate. It's the first words he's said since he sat down at the table.
"You should get an apartment in our building, Y/N," Chaehyun suggests.
"I don't know what I'm going to be doing tomorrow, let alone a year's time, so getting tied down to a lease sounds irresponsible," you admit, "Realistically, I need to go back to America to train cause I don't think the KSU would be very happy about me training at their risk for national team members."
"Oh come on, you know the KSU still loves you!" Heeseung counters.
"That's all fine for appearances, but I don't make them any money so using their facilities is a different ball game," you say, "There's other rinks, of course. I just don't know what to do yet."
"There's no rush," Sunghoon offers hesitantly, "You're on your break to relax, so don't worry about what comes next just yet."
You're taken aback by his contribution; his words are much more comforting than you thought they would be considering where your relationship stood. A few months ago, you and Sunghoon were on opposite sides of a plate with a rift between you that you thought was getting larger and pulling apart as the years went by. Now, it feels like you're both hanging in the air in limbo, waiting for the next move to determine what comes next.
"Thanks Sunghoon," you nod simply, taking a sip of your drink. You don't fail to notice the unsure look that Chaehyun and Heeseung give each other before Chaehyun scrambles to change the topic of conversation.
"Y/N, you haven't seen your parents right? Can I come with you when you go home?" Chaehyun coughs, "It's been a while since I saw them too and I miss your mom's cooking."
Despite Chaehyun's greatest effort to tread into a more neutral conversation, Sunghoon's stomach turns in longing. He too misses your mom's cooking. He misses you too.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
You thought that being Taeyeon's assistant coach-in-training was going to be light work. After all, you'd been on the receiving end of it for many years, so being on the other side should be a breeze, right?
You were terribly, terribly mistaken. And you think that you should give Taeyeon an even bigger raise once the season after this one starts again.
Look, you've always known how hard your coach works. You genuinely do owe your entire career to her and you can't imagine where you would have ended up if it wasn't for her. You just didn't know how much she did behind the scenes in addition to everything she did for you on the ice.
The two of you are sitting in her office at Taereung, crowded around two computer screens side by side. Her office is narrow and small- just a desk, a chair and a few cabinets to keep papers, but the window stretching from the ceiling to the floor overlooking the mountains and hills of Seoul makes it feel much bigger. A few of her medals from her professional career are framed and hung on the wall opposite the desk, and there's picture frames of the two of you, as well as of her and Key when they won their first World's of many, interspersed with her medals.
"What's wrong with her form in this one?" Taeyeon quizzes you, tapping her pen on the freeze frame blown up on one of the screens. It's a still of her oldest student Boeun in the air. At 16 years old, Boeun's already achieved many great things for her country. The upcoming season was around the corner and it was Boeun's first year competing in the senior division, so her training was getting even more intense.
"Her arms aren't tucked in enough," you note slowly, "That's gonna creat resistance and slow her spin, so she might land wobbly or under-rotate."
"Good," Taeyeon nods in satisfaction. The two of you have been at this for hours and you're barely halfway through her free skate. Taeyeon's mostly been explaining to you her own thought processes, but whenever she senses you zoning out or getting bored, she's quick to fire questions at you, "Okay, you can go now."
You do a double take at your coach, "Huh, what? An I really bothering you that much? We're only halfway through the program!"
Taeyeon chuckles dismissively, "You're amazing, Y/N. It's just that it's 3pm and you should be enjoying your season off. I know that you want to gain experience coaching, but it's only the start of the year and we have a long time."
You pout at her request, but end up nodding hesitantly, "Okay, if you say so."
Spinning casually in her chair, Taeyeon murmurs off handedly, "You should catch Sunghoon downstairs; he finishes around this time. Maybe ask him to get some coffee."
Narrowing your eyes at her, you packed up your things, "Is this you meddling?"
"Maybe," she smirked, drumming her pen on the table, "It's not my fault I know the skaters' schedules."
"Stop rewatching Our Beloved Summer. Not every one gets a second chance," she'd been talking your ear off all week about the K-drama she watches every time summer rolled around despite knowing the plot line by heart.
A ghost of a smile flutters on her face, "Maybe, but I think you do. There must be a reason you ended up back in Seoul all this time."
You quirk your eyebrow at her, "And the reason is you moving back here. Whatever, I guess I can see if I can find him, but if he left already, it's not my issue."
You say goodbye to your coach, tugging on your jacket and slipping out of the door. You completely miss the way she scrambled to her phone to text one particular Lee Junho.
Racing down the stairs, you prepare yourself to face Sunghoon alone for the first time since he came to your hotel room. You're somewhat glad that he didn't pester you all these months, instead choosing to use your mutual friends to keep up on you. On the other hand, there's a selfish part of you that wished he would keep chasing.
There's a gaggle of juniors that are on the youngest side all propped up on the boards and watching Sunghoon finish some jump training when you walk into the rink. They're all peering up at him with wide, sparkly, awe-filled eyes as he traverses through the air with a grace you know that's only reserved by him. You used to look at your seniors the same way too; you and Sunghoon would come in early for your shared conditioning training and just perch on the stands watching whoever was on the ice. It was a way to learn, but it was mostly just a way you kept your love for skating alive among all the hardships.
There was never anything better than watching someone you aspired to be, knowing one day, you'll be the one inspiring the next generation. As long as you worked hard, of course.
"Y/N Y/L/N?" a tiny girl with her hair slicked back into a neat bun catches sight of you, gasping in amazement.
Sunghoon pauses on the ice, head snapping around to find you. You give him a small wave and a subtle smile, motioning for him to carry on as you addressed the kids that were one by one realising who you were.
"Hi, how's it going?" you smile genuinely, "What are you guys doing here?"
"We're working in the gym, but we're on a break right now. Coach said that Sunghoon-oppa was on the ice, so we came to watch," the three girls giggle with each other, but there's a soft smile resting on the two boys's flushed cheeks. The one that noticed you steps up against the rest, "I'm a really big fan of you. Coach said that you used to train here and came back, so I've been waiting to meet you. Do you think I could get an autograph?"
She's playing with the hem of her pastel pink training top, but you can tell that she's trying to keep her voice stable. The kids aren't carrying anything themselves, so you take out a notebook and pen from the front pocket of your bag.
"What's your name?" they're all a bit shorter than you, so you bend at the knees to meet her gaze. She grins at you with her brace-adorned teeth and tells you her name.
You sign quickly, leaving an encouraging message of well-wishes, tearing off the paper and handing it to her. The other kids have formed a queue behind her and are looking at you expectantly and so shyly that your heart bursts with happiness. You didn't have many juniors around at your old rink and certainly not ones who truly knew who you were and where you came from.
"I'll be around all season," you tell them as you sign the last piece of paper, "Don't be shy to talk to me, okay? It's my job after all to make sure you guys all become the best skaters you can be. No one knows this life better than your seniors, so make use of us."
Their grins are splitting their faces as they nod excitedly and run off to wherever their coach had appeared from. She gives you a grateful nod for entertaining them and by this time, you notice Sunghoon walking over to you, skates already off.
"You sure have a fanclub here," Sunghoon muses lightly.
"Ha, I didn't mean to conduct my very own meet and greet, but they're all so adorable," you say fondly.
Sunghoon mirrors your expression as nostalgia clouds his eyes, "Remember when we saw Jaejoong-sunbae in our first week here and snuck out of lesson to find him in the building?"
You clap your hands together at the forgotten memory being pulled to the forefront of your brain, "Oh my gosh and our coaches scolded us so much when they hunted us down and found us making him sign our skates and our bags!"
"Junho was just salty that Jaejoong was the face of figure skating at their time and not him," Sunghoon watches his coach disappear into a tunnel on the other side of the rink, "I bet they did that to their seniors whenever they came to Taereung!"
"Yeah," you agree, "Have they already got your signature?"
His eyes twinkle, "Yeah, the girls always watch whenever they're here."
"Sounds like they have a crush," you fold your arms and chuckle, "Let them down gently, yeah?"
"Ah, don't want a reputation as a heart breaker around here now, do I?" Sunghoon laughs easily, but then he realises the words that slip out and he slaps a hand to his mouth, "Wait. Um."
"It's cool," you giggle, "Taeyeon told me you were about to finish training for the day. I thought that maybe we could get a drink somewhere?"
Sunghoon's eyes widen in surprise, "Really?" you nod, "Oh yeah, of course. Wait here; I'll grab my stuff from the locker room and we can go."
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
Something you never really thought about much was the fact that you and Sunghoon fell apart as teenagers. It was silly to say, but you had never considered the fact that now you're adults, your lives were very different.
Sunghoon was cruising down the highway with one hand on the wheel and the other propped up onto the door. His car is modern and shiny and his side profile from your view is exquisite- wait, what?
"When did you learn to drive?" you ask quietly, trying to keep your eyes on the road in front. There wasn't that much to do around the training centre, so Sunghoon suggested to go into the city and find a nice café in Hongdae to explore.
"It's been a couple of years. It was kind of necessary to get to Taereung when I moved out of the dorms," Sunghoon hums, "Do you know how to drive in the US?"
"I got my license, but I never really drove. Taeyeon and I lived together, so she would just drive the two of us everywhere," you recount, "She made me get my license cause it's easy over there. I'm not sure how well my skills will translate over here."
Sunghoon runs his free fingers through the platinum strands of his hair, "Let me know if you wanna go for a drive to learn. I can help you."
Trying to ignore the flush in your cheeks, you scoff playfully, "You would trust me with your nice car?"
Sunghoon meets your eyes and it burns through you so intensely that you immediately look away. Internally, you're beating yourself up for acting so pathetic around him.
He lets out a sound that's a cross between a laugh and an exhale, "I used to trust you with my life."
Dumbstruck, you keep quiet and chew on your bottom lip. Sunghoon doesn't press any further and the two of you just listen to the smooth r&b playing on the radio. Until you get to the parking space, it's silent, but you don't know what else to say to act casual around him. You stopped being casual with him 5 years ago.
By the time that you wrestle your seatbelt off and collect your bags from the floor of his car, Sunghoon has jumped out and raced around to open the door for you. It takes everything in you to not crumble.
"Thanks," you smile slightly. Sunghoon's stare remains intense and piercing.
He directs you into the café and the two of you awe and marvel at the array of cakes and pastries all decorated to look like animals or objects. He doesn't fight you when you breach the topic of paying for your own drink and confectionary, but he does carry the tray with both of your items over to a table by a window.
"Thanks for coming to see me and inviting me out," Sunghoon purses his lips hesitantly, not knowing whether to dive so deep so quickly.
You jam a fork into the chocolate cake dressed up as a bear, "I've made you wait long enough since World's. And I think nearly 6 years is a long enough time of enduring all this angst."
"You're right," Sunghoon utters, sighing deeply, "I just- I just don't even know where to start."
"The very start, I guess," you say sheepishly, "I never meant to wait until the day before to tell you I was leaving. The whole time that Taeyeon was convincing me to go with her, I was completely in denial about leaving. I think that I didn't want to tell you, because if I did, it would seem real that I was leaving you. You were the hardest thing I was leaving behind."
"Wonder what your parents would say to that," Sunghoon tried to joke, but he sounds more sad than anything as you delve back into the past, "I heard rumours about it, but I didn't want to confront you about leaving either. I just thought that there was really no way that we could ever be apart. I mean, our coaches had to schedule all of our training back to back because we were just so attached at the hip."
When you were young, everywhere you went, Sunghoon would be right beside you. School, the rink, the mall, the playground, the gym, the cafeteria- everywhere. You were like each other's lifeline.
"I was going to ask you to call, to keep in touch-"
Sunghoon's eyelids flutter close in regret, "And then I called you selfish before you could even say that. And I said so many words that I definitely did not mean. I'm sorry for that, Y/N. Please know that I really am."
Your eyes brim with stinging tears, so you crane your neck down and sip at your milkshake to calm down.
The hardest thing through the years was whenever you were left alone with your thoughts. Somehow, everything always led back to the boy that was now sitting in front of you. But for years, you couldn't escape the heartbreaking feeling every time you remembered the look of betrayal on his face when you told him you were leaving, and then the anger that seeped into his features.
"We were just kids," you bite your lip and swipe at your lash-line, "I wish I could go back in time and say goodbye properly."
Sunghoon pushed a piece of his cake around with his fork on the plate, "I was angry that you were leaving because I was going to confess to you that week."
Your gaze snaps up to his, "Really?"
"Mhm, I had been planning it and trying to work up the courage for so long at that point," he chuckles bitterly, "The fairground was opening up for the summer that week, if I remember correctly. I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go and I was gonna try and confess then. You leaving so abruptly just broke my heart. I know it's not your fault though."
Your own heart cracks at the revelation, "I'm sorry, Hoon."
"And then I found out through Chaehyun that you were switching nationalities and it felt like we were two worlds apart," Sunghoon admits reluctantly.
You think back to when you were 17, being lured in by the country you held dual citizenship for and knowing that the deadline to choose a nationality was looming close, "There was so much depth in the Korean senior women's field. Taeyeon encouraged me to switch to increase the likelihood of winning national titles and getting spots at the Olympics. And they were willing to pump so much money into my training and paying Taeyeon that I couldn't say no."
"I know," Hoon nods affirmatively, "You don't have to explain yourself for that. You made the right choice and you're an Olympic silver medalist for it."
You smile weakly.
He continues, "The training centre felt so empty without you. For the first time, I actually had to make an effort to talk to the other athletes and none of them could measure up to you."
"I was really lonely in America," you confess in a small voice, "There were so many days that I almost called even though we left on such bad terms. I just wanted to hear your voice sometimes."
Sunghoon's eyes soften and his eyebrows pull together in regret, "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I missed you so much and I'm willing to do anything and everything to fix this- to fix us."
"And if I have to leave after this season?"
Sunghoon reaches over suddenly and wipes his thumb at the corner of your mouth. His finger ghosts over your lips for a second and your heart skips a beat and then begins to race.
"Sorry, you had some cake there," Sunghoon murmurs, "If you end up on the moon next season, I'll personally build a rocket to get to you."
Unconsciously, you let out a full laugh that causes a smile to invade his face. You bat at his arm, "Now, come on. That's too cheesy."
Sunghoon waits for you to stop laughing when he connects your eyes together, "But I mean it, Y/N. I need you in my life."
The steady, but quick thrum of your heartbeat pulses against your chest wall. All you can focus on is the adoring look that Park Sunghoon is directing at you. It feels like that's all you need.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
For someone who spent their whole life on frozen water, you certainly didn't spend much time with it... unfrozen. But Seoul in the peak of summer is something akin to hell on earth- you couldn't walk more than a few blocks without having to duck into a convenience store or any shop that had air conditioning. As much as you wanted to wear as little as possible to avoid soaked fabrics sticking to your skin, you recognised that you weren't in America anymore and the looks you'd get from the sweaty grannies was frankly guilt-tripping. Even hanging around the rink on those hottest days wasn't any fun- the ice was more temperamental than usual and the shock you felt the second you step outside after spending time somewhere relatively cool just intensifies.
On your day off, Chaehyun magically appears at your familial home, giving you a mischievous smile.
"Heeseung has a friend of a friend of a friend-"
You give her a pointed look, "You want us to crash a stranger's house party just so we can use their pool?"
Chaehyun humphs, "No! We're invited. Heeseung and Sunghoon are already on their way there, so get your ass in a bikini so we can go!"
"Sunghoon's coming?" your heart began to race a little faster at the thought, but Chaehyun throws a pillow at you before you can even collect yourself.
"You lovesick loser."
You catapult the pillow back, "Am not! I don't like him like that anymore."
"Tell that to the heart eyes you get anytime he's around. Since the two of you made up, you've both been insufferable dancing around each other," Chaehyun's voice takes on a mocking tone as she mimics you, "'Oh Chae, his triple axel is so pretty today!' or 'oh Chae his training top fits him so well! or 'oh Chae, he brought me coffee today!'"
You ignore the giggling girl behind you in favour of packing some towels and a change of clothes into your bag. Over the past few weeks since you resolved things with Sunghoon in the café, he's made it a mission to make your life hell- well, he doesn't know that.
You thought that there was no way you could ever like-like him again after all the hurt that you grew to associate with him, but recently, your head and your heart have been all over the place. It's been hard to see each other super often since your schedules didn't overlap much, but he went out of his way to do nice things for you, such as getting you drinks after he finished training and you were still working or dropping by little snacks with encouraging notes to the office for you to encounter once you came in.
There was also the glaringly obvious change in your dynamics in the fact that he grew up hot. Sunghoon had always been handsome even when you were kids (it's one of the reasons you developed a raging crush on him), but it's different now that you're adults. Your brain worked differently now and his appearance and the way he commanded the ice all while making training gear look like designer had you feeling some kind of way.
"Hurry up," your best friend whined from your bed. You humph noisily and speed up shoving random items that you think you'll need into the bag until she has enough and starts tugging on your arm. I mean, it's her fault she only gave you a few minute's notice from when she turned up at your door.
Chaehyun drives like a mad-man all the way to this elusive friend of a friend of a friend's house that you start thinking you might need to get your own car to get you to places in this city. But then you remember how pretty Sunghoon's profile looked from the passenger seat-
"Why are you smiling like that?" Chaehyun laughs, "You look like an idiot."
You roll your eyes, "I'm just happy to be going to a pool party."
"You're happy to go to a pool party so you can see Sunghoon shirtless-" you reach over and she yelps, "Yah! Don't hit the driver! I'm gonna drive us off this cliff!"
You retract your arm away from her, "Don't say stupid shit, Chaehyun."
"I better not see you staring later then," she murmurs under her breath as she pulls into a parking space near the house. You text Heeseung to come and get the two of you outside because you didn't want to walk straight into this guy's garden without the ones who invited you.
He meets you promptly, a cup of something in hand and sunglasses hanging on the tip of his nose, "Urgh, finally. Hoon and I were waiting until you two got here so we could swim. It's so hot!"
You've only been outside of the car for a couple of minutes, but there's sweat forming in beads on your hairline already. You follow Heeseung through the side gate towards the direction of blaring music and the smell of barbecue. It truly was a party, because you couldn't even locate Sunghoon once you stepped into the clearing.
There were people crowded on loungers and people hovering by the barbecue and even more surrounding a ping pong table that was being used for beer pong. The pool wasn't super crowded, mainly for the fact that this guy lived in a mansion and his pool was practically Olympic sized.
"Jay!" Heeseung calls over a tall man with slick back hair and a sharp jawline, who smiles kindly to the two of you, "These are my friends Y/N and Chaehyun. Guys, this is Jay's house."
"You have an amazing house," Chaehyun gawks, "What do you do?
"He's a model," Heeseung answers for him hurriedly, "Y/N, Sunghoon's over there, go get him."
Heeseung points to the opposite corner of the garden where you could make out a group of people sat on outdoor couches around an unlit fire-pit. You squint and try to focus, seeing Sunghoon conversing with a girl that was leaning her whole body into him.
You pull a sour face, "I think he's busy."
"Get him," Chaehyun nudges you encouragingly, "He doesn't even look happy to be there."
You huff loudly, already sensing their meddling from a million miles away. What could you do though? It was basically law that best friends would tease two ex friends who had feelings for each other in the past to get together.
Quickly muttering a goodbye to the host, who flashes you a charming grin, you stalk all the way over to fire-pit. As you get closer, you begin to hear their conversation.
"Your arms are really big," this girl runs the tips of her fingers along his arm that was stretched out on the couch behind this girl, but Sunghoon visibly recoils from her touch, "Aw, am I making you shy?"
You nearly puke at her sugar sweet tone and halt your steps instead to watch how Sunghoon would react. You didn't want to cock-block the guy if he was actually interested and you were reading the situation wrong.
"Um, thanks?" his voice is awkward and he takes a swig of the liquid in his cup.
"What are you doing tomorrow? My friends and I are hosting a party at my house if you wanna come," she continues on, "It'll be really fun!"
"Ah, I'm not really into parties."
The girl pouts her glossy lips, "Really? How about we hangout alone then?"
"I told you that I-"
Annoyed at the thought of having to hear any more of this conversation, you clear your throat, causing Sunghoon's head to fly in the direction of the sound. He does a quick double take, but his face lights up all the way to his crinkled eyes once he realises it's you. You don't think you've ever seen a man stand up so quickly and this girl jumps back on the couch, clearly offended.
"Y/N, baby, you're here!" your eyes bulge out of socket when Sunghoon wraps his defined arms around your waist, making contact with the skin exposed by your cropped shirt. He nuzzles his head into your neck and leans up to whisper into your ear, "Play along, please?"
The girl on the couch scoffs at Sunghoon, "I thought you were just trying to brush me off when you said you had a girlfriend."
You narrow your eyes at her as Hoon settles beside you, keeping one hand squeezing your waist, "Then why didn't you get the hint? Do you wanna be a homewrecker?"
The girl stands up and rolls her eyes at you, "Whatever," she stomps away, stopping at a group of girls that are all staring at you menacingly.
"What was that?" you mumble to Sunghoon, who is smiling at you sheepishly and taking his arm off you.
He scratches the back of his neck, "Ah, sorry Y/N. She wouldn't leave me alone so I said I had a girlfriend."
"That didn't seem to work anyway," you retort in amusement, "And you were letting her get awfully close and touchy for someone who had a so-called girlfriend."
Sunghoon opens his mouth to apologise again, but a glimmer appears in his eyes that causes him to hold back and smirk, "Ah, why- were you jealous, Y/N?"
You grit your teeth and smack his chest, "In your dreams, Park. Let's go in the pool- it's so hot."
Mercifully, Sunghoon decides not to say anything else as he watches you put down your bag on the couch he was occupying and tug at your clothes.
"Look away," you murmur, causing Sunghoon's cheeks to redden. Thankfully, he could use the alcohol he was sipping on as an excuse as to why his face was so flushed as he turns around and pulls his own shirt over his head. He hears you unzip your skirt and drop it onto the couch, and then the pitter patter of your flip flops towards the pool, "Come on!"
Sunghoon only turns in time to see you slide into the pool off the side, so he quickly ducks down and follows. The heat is absolutely battering your skin, so you briefly plunge your entire body and resurface to find him smiling goofily at you.
"What?" you interrogate curiously.
Sunghoon shakes his head and splashes water up
to his face, "Nothing, nothing. Aren't you glad that you came?"
"Well, I was forced to," you grin, splashing cheekily at him.
Sumghoon pouts and splashes back at you, "Are we playing this game?"
Cocking your head to the side in fake innocence, you peer up at him, "What game?" you scoop with your cupped palms and flick the amassed water over his body.
A mischievous look creeps up on his features and he smirks at you, "You don't know what you're getting into, Y/N."
You turn as quickly as you can in the water, launching off in a random direction in a pathetic paddle/waddle considering the fact you're not a great swimmer. His laugh echoes in the air as he dives and chases after you, and before you realise, his arms snake around your exposed waist and he drags and dunks you under the water. Thrashing, you kick against him, but Sunghoon's hold is too strong on your body even after you surface. You splutter the water out and rub at your eyes to get the chlorine water and your sticking hair away.
When you open your eyes, you realise that your bodies are pressed up against each other, him clinging to you, with your faces just mere centimetres apart. You're breathing heavy from your underwater struggle, lips parted and exhaling. Intently, you watch as Sunghoon's eyes peer into yours and then flash down to your lips before he cracks a grin.
"I guess I win?"
You grunt, pushing him away, "You have 5 seconds to run, Park."
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
Summer ceases for another year in the blink of an eye and autumn creeps in slowly, and then all at once. The leaves on the trees surrounding Taereung have long changed colours, now making their home on the ground in piles of yellows, oranges and reds. You're both eagerly anticipating and dreading the snow, mindful of the fact you haven't lived through a Korean winter in a long, long time.
You try to appreciate the chilly breeze with clear skies, but it's hard when you had gotten used to the same mild or scorching temperature year around.
Sunghoon sighs as he steps in front of you, watching you tug your gloved hands on the neck of your jacket, "You've forgotten all about our autumn and winter, haven't you?" He unwraps the wool scarf that was adorning his neck and places it around your own. You hope that he'll put down the flush on your cheeks to the weather.
"Hoon, it's fine. We're not even going to be walking far," you insist, moving to take it off, but he places a hand over yours and gives you a sharp look that has you backing down.
He takes the handle of the suitcase away from your grip and walks in front of you. You huff and chase after him, "Seriously, Sunghoon. What if you get sick? I'm not the one competing."
He flashes you a prince-like smile, "Then you'll just have to take care of me- ow!" he flinches as you swat at him, "It's fine, Y/N. This weather is nothing to me and I mainly brought it for you. I knew you wouldn't be prepared."
You quieten down and ponder on his words. You shouldn't be surprised- even when you were young, Sunghoon was always attentive to your needs. Not much had changed since and you feel like you've fallen into the routine of your old friendship again, with a hint of flirtatious remarks from him then and now.
It's a nice feeling to be getting along with him again. It's filled up and healed a crack in your heart that appeared when you left and was never mended until now. Even though it was hard at first to be open with him, he's doing a diligent job breaking down your walls and occupying the space beside you like he once did.
The walk from the airport drop-off to the entrance is decently long, but Sunghoon rolls the two carry-on suitcases beside him, while you just haul your handbag. You're meeting the rest of Team Korea seeded to this competition at the airport, which makes you nervous. There's one other women's skater and a pair of ice dancers travelling to America with their coaches and staff and they're so young that you don't know them from your junior days. As much as Sunghoon, your friends and your coach try to convince you otherwise, you're not a part of their country's staff and a lot of them are likely reluctant to talk to you about strategy and programs- especially the skater that you would compete against on the circuit.
Lee Yunah fakes a smile at you when the two of you join the team at the check in desk. She grins over at your companion and tells him that they're sitting next to each other in business class. You're preparing yourself for a near 13 hour flight in economy next to Junho, Sunghoon's coach. It was definitely nice of Team Korea to fly out their skaters in business class on the way to competitions- something you were also used to with your federation.
You don't really know why Lee Yunah isn't fond of you. Of course, she's never mean or outwardly vicious, but you get the feeling through her pointed looks and tight-lipped smiles that you weren't her favourite person. Most girls you know in the circuit are so sweet- they always congratulate you and make conversation whenever they see you, but you've never had a full on chat with her despite sharing a language. You know that she's a couple years younger than you, but only came to Taereung 2 years ago after training someplace abroad.
You're heading to Skate America with the team because you figured you could watch and then travel to your home to get some things you left behind and check on your apartment. It was currently left half-empty after Taeyeon moved all of her things out, but your belongings were still there. You had a cleaner come every month to make sure the apartment was still standing and wasn't being infested while you were gone, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to come and see it for yourself and maybe see a few friends.
You and Sunghoon mostly just sit in silence at the gate after you pass security, texting your families your whereabouts and telling anyone relevant that you were going to be off your phones for the duration of the flight. You queue up your playlist and try to search online the movies available on the flight to save some time picking on the plane.
At one point, he excuses himself to the bathroom and returns with your favourite drink in his hand.
"Saw it in the vending machine by the toilets," he shrugs casually, to which you thank him profusely. You're a big fan of airplane food, much to everyone's chagrin, but you absolutely loathe the small selection of drinks they have to offer. The iced tea will definitely carry you through the flight.
When you finally get onto the aircraft, you're delighted to find that only you and Junho are in the row of 4 seats, so he shuffles to the other end to give the two of you space in the middle. While it's not the window seat where you could rest your head on the side, you and Junho can definitely take turns stretching out across the unoccupied seats and having a better sleep. It's a night flight, so you're definitely going to be exhausted in a few hours.
Before you turn your phone to airplane mode, Sunghoon texts you a selfie from his seat, looking sad with an exaggerated pout despite the fact that he's in a lie-flat seat with a screen twice the size of yours. You send him multiple eye roll emojis before telling him to get some good rest on the flight.
It takes around 40 minutes for the plane to taxi, take off and climb before the seatbelt sign turns off and the plane reaches a constant altitude. The plot of the movie you chose is dragging on a bit, causing your eyes to droop already, when a figure appears from Junho's side and leans down next to him. You watch curiously as Junho stands up from his seat into the aisle and as Sunghoon crosses two other seats to plop down next to you.
"Hi," he breathes out.
"What are you doing here?" you pause the movie and quirk an eyebrow at him.
"Yunah wouldn't stop talking my ear off!" he grumbles, settling into the seat, "Even when I put the partition up, she put it down after 5 minutes."
"So what?" you muse, "Are you giving up your lavish life in business class to be uncomfortable in economy?"
"I don't wanna sit next to her," Sunghoon whines, "Her crush on me is suffocating. I thought she would have moved on by now."
Ah, there it was. It was pretty obvious to anyone that had eyes that Yunah had a big, fat crush on your friend. You also knew that Sunghoon was pretty oblivious when it came to things like this- or he was when you were younger. That's why it came as a surprise that he already knew.
"She confessed?"
Sunghoon lets his eyes flutter closed, his long lashes kissing the tip of his cheeks, "Mhm, maybe a couple weeks before you came to Seoul? I rejected her then, but she hasn't given up, it seems."
You tear your eyes away from him, afraid you'll do something stupid like brush the fallen lash that sits on his cheekbone with your thumb, "Why did you reject her? She seems like a nice enough girl to you."
"She's not who I want," Sunghoon murmurs without missing a beat. He doesn't even let you ponder on his words before he opens his eyes and turns to his coach, poking him with his finger, "Hyung, can you take my seat? I wanna lie down here."
Junho gives him a funny look and they exchange a few words that you tune out as you think about what Sunghoon means. Does that mean there's someone in his head that he's decided on? Someone he's crushing on?
As Junho happily waddles out of economy to occupy his newly upgraded seat, Sunghoon stretches out across the seats. You notice that his feet ever so slightly dangle to the side into the footwell, so you grab a pillow and place it on your lap.
"Sunghoon, put your head here," you pat the squishy fabric.
He looks up at you with big, shiny eyes that had the ice in your heart melting, "Are you sure?"
You give him an affirmative nod and watch as he shuffles his head up to your lap and nuzzles to get comfortable. There's a light, resting smile on his lips and you softly brush the hair out of his eyes.
"Goodnigh, Y/N. Wake me up when you wanna swap," he breathes out, eyes already squeezed shut.
"Goodnight, Hoonie."
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
The gold medal hanging around Sunghoon's neck compliments the beam on his face as he poses for photos on the podium. Your heart squeezes in pride; you've been noticing how he's getting more and more consistent with his wins over the past two seasons and it's starting to look like he's going to dominate the male field single handedly. This was all you ever dreamed of when you were young and aspiring; winning and winning some more and being by each other's side. There were some bumps on the road with that, such as Sunghoon's run in with a bad form early on of his senior career, while you were experiencing the opposite. You sigh contently at the universe's plan to move everything around you as everything fell into place.
"Gold looks good on you, Park," Sunghoon is grinning at you as he walks over to you after the press conference, a while later.
"Do you ever get tired of it?" Sungjoon holds up the medal hanging around his neck delicately like it's a baby and the most precious thing he's laid his eyes on.
You nudge his arm with your elbow, "Don't act like this is your first; you're not that far behind me."
While you exploded on the scene as soon as you made your transition to seniors, Sunghoon's growth was gradual and more sustainable. He worked hard and steadily over the years, waiting patiently to reap his rewards. Now, he was decorated with nearly every medal in quick succession.
"Nah, you're miles ahead, sweets," he drops the term so casually you almost don't react, but by the time you realise, Junho is telling him it's almost time to warm up and run through his exhibition gala routine.
Sunghoon turns to you as he pulls the medal off his body and drops it around your shoulders, "Can you keep this safe for me? I'll see you after the gala, yeah?" his left eye drops into a wink before he takes off on a jog back into the direction of the rink.
You're stood there dumbfounded, fingers clasping the fabric of the medal. Junho stifles a laugh at you, making a note in his head to tell Taeyeon how your relationship has progressed in just a short time from the airport to now.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
"Welcome to my home sweet home," you breathe out as you step foot in your apartment for the first time in months.
It's a little chilly and the air is a bit stagnant, but otherwise, the apartment has been maintained well by your caretaker. You quickly turn on the heating and A/C to circulate the air while Sunghoon rolls his small suitcase in and takes off his shoes by the door. It's the first time you've seen shoes that weren't Taeyeon's next to yours in this apartment and it endears you to see it's Sunghoon's beat up shoes from when you were younger.
"You need new shoes, Hoon," you mumble pointedly at the raggedy pair.
He pouts cutely, "They're my favourite! They're perfectly moulded to my feet and we bought them together at the department store on my 16th birthday, remember?"
"And you are 21 now, Park Sunghoon," you crinkle your nose at him, "I think you can afford to part ways with them."
"It's not about affording, it's about our emotional bond!" he protests while he taps his sock-covered feet on the leather that was about to peel.
"Whatever. That is Taeyeon's old room. Put your stuff in there and I'll find some bed sheets," you point at the door on one side of the living room. You cross the shared area to reach your own bedroom and the linen closet.
By the time that you managed to pair up two sets of everything to adorn your stripped beds, you find Sunghoon in the kitchen, snooping through your cupboards. You doubt that he would find anything; fresh food hasn't crossed the threshold since you left and you did a freezer clear-out of most things too.
"Are you hungry? There's not gonna be any food, so we can order in," you pass by behind him as you go to drop the sheets in the room.
The two of you had breakfast in the hotel buffet in the morning with the rest of Team Korea, but after that, you were busy packing your bags and stressing about making it to the airport in time to eat between Texas and your home. It's creeping up on dinner time, so as athletes, you were starving.
"Can we order Korean food?" Sunghoon's tone has a cheeky lilt to it, which you don't understand until he turns around and you find green bottles in his grasp.
You gasp, "I left soju here? I thought I drank them all when I had a goodbye get together with my friends. What a nice surprise, but should we be drinking?"
Sunghoon shrugs and places three bottles on the dining room table, "Why not? I just won Skate America so we can celebrate, I guess. And we don't have any schedules or training for the next few days."
You always planned to visit your apartment after the competition even if it required a short plane ride to a different state. What you hadn't initially decided was whether you would invite Sunghoon or not. In your head, it was going to be a bit awkward inviting Sunghoon to a trip just alone straight off the bat without any of your friends first, but Chaehyun convinced you that there was nothing wrong inviting your friend. At one point, you considered each other best friends and you wouldn't have hesitated in the past, even when you did have a crush on him.
Convincing Heeseung and Chaehyun to fly to the States and make it a group treat came to no avail as they were both going to Skate Canada just a few days after Skate America and therefore would need to be using this time intensely training. You considered taking a trip over to Halifax and watching your other best friends too, and then trying to convince them to come back with you, but going coast to coast back and forth was tiring and time-wasting. You don't think that Taeyeon would appreciate you skipping out on more days of work back in Korea just because you couldn't stomach the thought of being alone with Sunghoon in a private place.
In the months you've been in Korea, you've definitely been alone with Sunghoon- you eat together often, you work out together often, you walk around shopping districts and café hunt together often, but you haven't been alone with him with nowhere to run to yet. This is your apartment after all.
After you order the food, you convince Sunghoon to go and set up the bed and unpack his belongings a little, while you did the same in your room. Apart from the stripped bed, the room seemed largely untouched and a little empty. Still, you left behind some memorabilia such as some of your competition gifts (all the medals and trophies were in the living room, as they were celebrating both you and your coach), pictures with your friends and team on this side of the world and a heap of plushies that you couldn't justify hauling with you all the way to Korea.
You took most of your clothes to Korea, but you left behind your competition dresses that were displayed on a rail. Fondly, you inspected each of them and let the warmth of the memory fill your heart. While you were missing competing already, you know in your heart that this break is what you need so you don't burn out too fast; you want to be with the sport for as long as possible, even if you did foolishly contemplate retiring at first.
After intense and thought-provoking conversations with your coach and your best friends, you came to the decision that taking a break was a much easier and less-permanent step than announcing you were retiring off the bat. You know you made the right decision when the thought of coming back on the ice made you feel excited, instead of dread.
Your door was ajar, but you still get shocked when Sunghoon knocks on the wood to let you know of his presence, "The food came, Y/N."
"Oh, really? Sorry, I didn't hear it but thanks for getting it," you furrow your eyebrows at how you spaced out.
Sunghoon steps further into your bedroom, which has you training your eyes on him carefully as he perches on the end of your bed, "It's weird not knowing what your bedroom looks like now, when I used to have them all memorised."
Your heart clenches at the thought. When you still lived at home with your parents, Sunghoon lived nearby and was always around for play dates in your room or house. As you grew up, the two of you would study together on your large desk side by side with the chair that he stole out of your parents' office. When you both moved into the dorms briefly, you would find ways to sneak him into your room even when boys weren't allowed in the girls' dormitory. He spent a lot of time in your dorm room napping while you did online school before the two of you would head over to the rinks for training.
You hang your costume from the last Olympics back onto the white rail, "Well, now you know."
Sunghoon takes this as an invitation to inspect more purposefully. There's a printed picture of you, Chaehyun and Heeseung on the pin board above your desk. From Heeseung's hair colour, Sunghoon could tell it was from a couple of years ago. There's a few newspaper clippings up about your victories and a few childhood photos of you on the ice. When he finds that there's nothing to indicate his previous presence in your life, he feels a little guilt, even though he expected it.
He was such a big part of your life once- and you to his- but misunderstandings had forced the two of you apart, mainly due to his own angst. If he wasn't so stupid and young, maybe his face would appear on your pinboard too to signify his importance.
"I can feel you thinking over there," you chuckle and sit next to him, "What's up?"
Sunghoon's eyebrows are knitted together in some kind of frustration, "I missed so much of your life because I was so up my own ass. You achieved all the things we talked and dreamed about for so long and I couldn't even celebrate with you or tell you how proud I am of you. I'm sorry, Y/N."
His words take you aback and you instinctively lean into his body, "Stop saying sorry, Hoon. We agreed to move past it, remember?"
He kisses his teeth, "I know, but I'm still so angry at myself for doing that to us and pushing us apart when it was the exact opposite of what I really wanted."
Your heart begins to race as it so often does when you're faced with Park Sunghoon. You turn your head towards him to find him already looking at you with parted lips. You fight with your might to keep your eyes up as your fingers grasp the bedsheets.
His words nearly echo what he said on the plane about Yunah not being the one he wants.
"What did you really want?" your voice drops to a whisper, reluctant to ask in fear of having to face his answer.
There's a moment when his eyes scan down your face and land somewhere lower, but he's meeting your gaze again quickly as a knowing smile stretches across his lips, "Are you sure you wanna hear it?"
There's a churning in your stomach as you examine his expression. It's so unreadable and unfamiliar to you that something inside you snaps and you jump up, "The food is gonna go cold. And the soju's gonna go warm," you speed walk out of the room and leave behind a chuckling Sunghoon.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
Spending your teen years in America where you just barely became legal to drink meant that you didn't get a chance to build up your alcohol tolerance the same way Korean teens did. While you vehemently do not condone drinking if Taeyeon asks, you still know that in Korea's heavy-drinking culture, teens were able to access alcohol much earlier and easier and drank a lot more than you and your same-aged friends you made in America. At the same time, you didn't go to a physical college to be able to engage in questionable behaviours like underage drinking at parties or with college friends since most of your friends were fellow athletes who had it drilled in them to take care of their bodies. While in Korea, it was practically a rite of passage to sneak in alcohol for special occasions and not so special occasions to the dormitories once the lights went out and the adults went to sleep.
You're a testament of that cultural and social gap as your head lulls heavily in the air, while Sunghoon watches you in half amusement, half concern. You seemed okay for a while, matching his pace with shots as you talked casually and ate the takeout and then suddenly it seemed to hit you all at once and you were slurring and giggling at nothing and dropping your head. Although you protested, he managed to cut off your alcohol and even poured down the remaining liquid down the sink so there was no chance of you getting any further gone.
Sunghoon was definitely buzzed too, to the point that risky decisions seemed appealing to him now, but his concern for you overtook any feeling.
"We should get you to bed now, Y/N-ie," Sunghoon hums as he pats your head flopped on the table, "Let's get up."
"No!" you bang your fist on the table softly, "I don't wanna. I wanna spend time with you!"
Sunghoon's heart leaps out of his chest hearing those words, "We have all day tomorrow and the day after and then we have the whole ride back to Korea. Plus, we practically work together."
You murmur something incoherent into the table and Sunghoon has to urge you to lift your head up.
"I said that we barely see each other at the rink," you mumble again, peering up at him adorably.
Since the season kicked off, your schedules were busier, but it endears Sunghoon to know that you were thinking about him, "I'll make more of an effort to see you more often then. But we should get your drunk ass to bed now."
"I'm not drunk," you hiccup cutely as your face scrunches up and then relaxes as you examine his features, "Has anyone ever told you that your moles are really pretty?"
Sunghoon is struck silent by you so suddenly and he thinks he's forgotten how to breathe when your hands reach up to cup his face. Your expression is so soft yet determined as your fingers ghost over the placement of the marks- over his nose, under his eyes and then the pad of your thumb presses gently into his skin just a few centimetres away from the corner of his lips.
Your touch on him is kickstarting his heart into gear and his heart is beating out of his chest. It's almost like all at once, you've completely undone all his resolve when this whole time, he's been trying to push his feelings away in order to restore and rekindle his previous friendship with you.
But let's face it, Sunghoon doesn't want to be your friend.
Or at least he doesn't want to be just your friend anymore.
"Y/N, what are you doing?" his own hands find their way up to cup your hands, which makes your fingers press deeper into his skin.
"You're so handsome, Hoonie. You grew up so well," your voice is so dreamy that Sunghoon becomes hyper aware that you might not say these things when you're sober. He tries to pull your hands off him, but you just bat away at his grasp, "So, so pretty. Makes me want you all to myself."
Your table is abnormally narrow, or so it feels like. With the way that you're leaning up to him, he only needs to move a little to meet you and maybe press his lips into yours-
Sunghoon shakes away his tipsy thoughts as he forcefully removes himself from your caress and walks around the table to hoist you up, "Let's get you to bed, Y/N. Seriously."
The walk to your room is precarious. Sunghoon feels like he's getting more drunk with every step he takes trying to manoeuvre your unwilling body. You're clinging onto him for life, groaning and complaining about not wanting the night to end, but he tunes you out to prioritise taking care of you. You both got changed into pyjamas after your second shot, foreseeing the night to end a bit tipsy and therefore likely disinhibited from normal tasks. All Sunghoon has to do is peel back the covers and coax you into lying down.
He brushes the hair out of your shining eyes once he gets you to settle on the bed, "I'm gonna get you some water, okay? Stay here."
Your hands clutch at his bicep, not even going all the way around, "Hoonie, I missed you."
He smiles fondly at you, "I missed you too, Y/N. I really did."
When you let your heavy eyelids fall, you also let a smile grace your face. Sunghoon captures this moment in his mind to store in the part of his brain that you've made home in and he decides that no matter what and if it is up to him, he'll never leave your side again.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
"Sunghoon, this is Eric," you gesture between the blonde haired guy beside you and the pink haired one in front of you, "Have you guys met before?"
"In passing when I would give him dirty looks on behalf of you," Eric snorts, "And we've met a few times on the podium, right?"
Sunghoon nods stiffly, "Yeah, a few."
Eric quirks his eyebrow, "Well, anyway, it's good to finally meet the elusive Park Sunghoon. I've heard lots about you, not good things as you imagine."
You reach over to smack Eric's arm with a scalding expression, "Eric, behave."
He lets out a boisterous laugh that has introverted Sunghoon squirming in his seat, "Relax, i'm just playing. Really. I'm glad that you two are on good terms again. Y/N-ie always talked about you and while it was out of anger mostly, I could tell that behind it all, she missed you."
"This is not behaving either," you mutter with a glare at your friend.
Eric was a fellow skater at your club. He joined the year after you came from a different club in the city to work with your coach's mentor. The two of you became fast friends despite him being a couple years older than you and he was one of the friends you were missing since moving back home.
Over the years, you grew more comfortable in confiding in Eric about your friends back home and specifically about Sunghoon after he witnessed a little spat between you a few World's ago.
Sunghoon has always been the shy and quiet type, which is one of the reasons why he struggled so much without you- you were practically his only friend then. Eric, on the other hand, is too extroverted and talkative for his own good. You like to think you're a happy medium in between them both. However, you know that this meeting won't go off without a hitch.
"Y/N-ie, do you know yet if you're gonna come back next season?" Eric takes a sip out of his cocktail. The three of you are sitting on a shaded table on the porch of a brunch spot, basking in the slight warmth of the October sun. It's a stark contrast to what you'll come home to, "We all miss you so much over here."
You feel Sunghoon stiffen up beside you and you cast a quick glance at him. He's trying to play it cool by mixing around the mojito he ordered with the straw.
"I'm not sure yet. It feels like I just got to Korea, to be honest," you skirt around the question to avoid making Sunghoon uncomfortable. In all honesty, it was the truth. You wanted to focus on enjoying your time there without worrying too much about the future. Then again, you had to make sure that your team was ready for you wherever you were going to end up in the world. While Taeyeon was arguably the most important part of the team, there were so many more people behind the scenes that shaped your career.
"We really love having Y/N around," Sunghoon adds on nonchalantly. You can tell that he's trying to avoid voicing out his real opinion in favour of supporting whatever decision you'll come to make.
"So do we," Eric grins, "I miss having my partner in crime around."
Sunghoon resists the urge to roll his eyes out of his head. You were his partner in crime first. Plus, you never even mention Eric much around him. How close were the two of you really?
"The staff are probably so happy that we're separated," you giggle in acknowledgement, "Who are you stealing the Zamboni with now?"
A memory flashes through the forefront of Sunghoon's mind when you first broke into the Zamboni cupboard and stole the keys. You two were practically punished for days when you were caught lapping the rink in circles at the age of 14 and subsequently ruining the work of the driver. Thankfully, you did learn over the years at your new rink how to operate the machine, so stealing it with Eric was mostly just for the thrill.
If emotions could manifest in real life, Sunghoon was green with envy. He would never accuse you of replacing him when the fall out was his fault anyway, but the thought that you did things with Eric that you used to do with him made him feel so sick.
The way that Eric addressed you with soft nicknames and a teasing tone had Sunghoon's stomach churning. He practically sat through the brunch seething in silence, only speaking when you addressed him and asked him a question.
What was even worse was that you hadn't talked about the events of the previous night at all. By the time that Sunghoon returned to your room after fetching your glass of water and trying to calm himself down in the kitchen, you were already fast asleep in dreamland. In the other room, Sunghoon seemingly couldn't sleep a wink until the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by you frantically telling him to get up as you were gonna be late to meeting Eric.
So here you all were, nursing your hangovers with even more alcohol and a whole lot of carbs.
Eventually, Eric had to run for his final fitting for his costume that he was debuting at the Grand Prix de France in a few weeks, leaving you and Sunghoon to stroll along the streets lined with brunch spots and themed cafés.
"How'd you find Eric? I know he's kind of a lot at first..." you chuckled awkwardly, sensing only halfway through the meeting that it was probably not a good idea to have them meet just yet.
"I'm just glad that you had some friends over here," Sunghoon said sincerely.
"It was hard at first, but once Eric came, he dragged many people into our little group of friends," you agree quietly. Sunghoon is walking tensely beside you, fingers clasped behind his back instead of swinging by your side like usual.
"Mhm."
"You're not jealous, are you?" you ask hesitantly, looking straight ahead at the strip in front of you.
"A little," his confession takes you by surprise. You halt your step and catch his arm.
"Eric is flirty but he doesn't actually mean anything by it."
Sunghoon lets out a deep sigh and gestures for the two of you to sit on a nearby bench. It's a weekday morning, so there's not that many people hanging around the streets. People were mainly just walking past with a purpose to reach a certain shop instead of walking casually like the two of you were.
"After last night, I don't know where we stand," Sunghoon gnaws at his lip nervously. As much as he'd love to pretend nothing was changing between the two of you to preserve the good terms you were on, he feels like he can't carry on any longer.
The memories of the previous night come rushing back to you, not having been able to think about it beforehand due to your rush to meet Eric. You fold into yourself in embarrassment and move away from Sunghoon. You're not even internalising the meaning to his words, too preoccupied with cringing internally at your actions- there was a reason why you didn't drink much.
"Y/N," Sunghoon scoots closer to you, "Did you hear what I said?"
You peak at him through your hands covering your face in shame, "Hm?"
Sunghoon laughs softly at you as he moves your hands away from your face gently, "I said I don't know where we stand."
You cock your head at him, "Are you asking me what are we?"
Sunghoon's face heats up, "I'm just as nervous and embarrassed as you are about this, Y/N. Just give me a straight answer."
His candour inspires a bout of bravery in you as you give him a confident smile, "As I said last night, I want you all to myself."
You can practically see the moment a glimmer of hope sparkles in his eyes as he shuffles even closer to you. Your thighs are touching at this point, body twisted towards one another.
"Really? In what way?" he presses on.
You try to look away, intending to evade the conversation and point out something irrelevant, but Sunghoon reaches up to your cheeks and keeps your face straight at him. His expression tells you everything you need to know.
He's been waiting for your answer for practically 6 years.
"In the way that I'm in love with you," you confess.
When you spent countless nights pondering on what exactly your feelings were for Park Sunghoon, you always imagined that telling him would be hard. When you were young teens, confessing to your best friend was something that had you panicked and flustered, not even once entertaining the idea in fear of ruining your friendship over a crush.
But looking up at him now with that pleading and hopeful look on his face had the words falling out of your mouth.
It felt so natural to tell him, the same way that breathing came easy to any human. You used to always tell each other that you loved each other, but telling him you're in love with him? It was as automatic as your heart beating.
"Okay, good," Sunghoon is completely drowning in you, but is trying to keep his composure, "Cause I definitely want you all to myself in the way that I've been in love with you for years and years and I don't intend in sharing."
You chuckle at him, "We're going to have to work on that, I think."
Sunghoon scoffs and suddenly lunges forward on the bench. His nose bumps against yours, "You're mine, Y/N. And I'm yours too."
His breath fans over your lips and you're so desperate to push your face forward and connect your mouths together, but he places a teasing thumb between your lips.
"Sunghoon," you grumble.
"Yes, sweets?"
"Can you just kiss me now?"
A smirk envelops his facade as he moves his thumb out of the way, "My pleasure."
Your lips slot together so naturally that you don't know how you've gone this long without connecting the other piece of the puzzle. You're thankful that the street is deserted as Sunghoon presses his lips on yours gently at first, but then more purposeful and deeper as you reciprocate and move your lips against his.
Kissing Sunghoon feels like fireworks exploding, butterflies in your stomach and the comforting feeling of home all at once. One hand is caressing his cheeks, moving over the mole just under his eye on top of his cheek bone and the other is running through his hair. Sunghoon's hands are clasping your cheeks like he's afraid you're going to run or disappear as he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue into your mouth.
You whimper into his hold and let him take the lead. Everything has been leading up to this moment. You knew that time when you took him to a café to talk that this was going to be inevitable. Your heart was always going to be pulled to Sunghoon's and there was no use fighting it.
The famous saying that there's a very fine line between love and hate was all too true. The changes in your relationship over the years were always just sides on the same coin. At the end of the day, you completed each other.
"I love you, Y/N. You don't know how long I've been wanting to tell you that," Sunghoon mutters against your lips.
"Likewise, Hoonie," you press a soft and fleeting kiss on his swollen lips before you pull away properly, "But we should go somewhere more private."
Sunghoon coughs in surprise and begins to splutter, "O-oh? Damn, take me out on a date first!"
You rise to your feet and give him a disgusted expression, "Shit, Hoon. Not like that! Urgh, I'm taking it back."
Sunghoon chases after you in glee as you stomp away, "Wait, Y/N! Come back! You still haven't answered- what are we?"
"Back to enemies," you turn your upper body to glare at him, flipping him off with your middle fingers, "Boyfriend privileges revoked before they even started!"
You're practically sprinting away from him at this point and Sunghoon has never been happier running after someone as he feels his heart leaping out from his chest, "Boyfriend? Y/N, come back!"
"No!"
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
You watch from the stands as Sunghoon finishes up another run through of his free program after a small tweak to one of his elements. As he hits the final pose, you explode into claps and cheers.
"That was so clean," you praise beside Junho who was nodding approvingly.
Sunghoon skates over to the gate and sighs contently. Junho claps him on the back, "You're all done for the day, then. Good job, Sunghoon."
"Thanks, hyung," Sunghoon grins, "Is there anyone using the rink after me?"
"Hm, I don't think so? Usually it'd be Heeseung but they're not back yet from Canada," Junho ponders the question, "Are you gonna keep practising? Don't overwork yourself."
"No, I just thought I'd drag Y/N onto the ice today," he looks over at you, your expression turning into surprise, "You have your blades on you?"
Junho bids the two of you goodbye, reminding Sunghoon that he had some schedule tomorrow with a sponsor. You eye Sunghoon nervously, "Why do you wanna skate together?"
He shrugs nonchalantly, "It's been a while since we've properly shared the ice. I thought it'd be fun."
You leave him skating laps around the oval as you fetch your shoes from the locker room. Since you arrived in Seoul all those months ago, you've barely been skating- maybe twice a week when helping some of the younger girls you've been coaching. You're definitely out of practice, but you figure that you still have a little time left before you had to start getting used to skating all day, every day again ahead of the new season.
The shoes are a second skin to you and it will never feel foreign slipping them on no matter how long it's been. Your first steps on the ice are still confident - you haven't lost touch at all.
"Do you think we could have been a good pairs team?" you ask Sunghoon in amusement as he reached out a hand to you skating towards him. You crash into his body with a big 'oof!' as he envelops you into a warm hug. Thankfully, you're pretty appropriately dressed for the ice today.
"We probably could've been the best," Sunghoon nods along, "We trusted each other so much."
His past tense has your face falling in a frown that he quickly catches, "And I still trust you with my life. I'm working to make sure you will trust me again too."
Sunghoon's voice is soft as he releases you, but slides his fingers in between yours. He starts pulling you along side him slowly, just gliding beside each other.
"I love you, Sunghoon," you tell him suddenly, feeling so overjoyed at being by his side again on the ice at the second rink you called home together, "Thank you for trying with me again."
"No, thank you for letting me come back into your life," Sunghoon bounces back, sending you into a spin and then capturing your grip again, "Being with you makes me want to be better every day for you."
You feel so warm inside despite the temperature of the indoor arena as you move together in tandem. If you close your eyes, you can picture your 15 year old selves holding hands and leisurely skating around like couples at pop-up Christmas-time ice skating rinks. Instead, you were just two kids with the weight of the figure skating world's expectations on you, holding onto each other for support.
"I don't think I want to leave at the end of this season," you admit quietly to him, "Everyone I love is here and I don't have any reasons to go back. I'll do my best to convince my federation and team, but I'm sure Taeyeon will find a rink for me in Seoul or lobby to have me here if there's space."
Sunghoon squeezes your hands assuringly, "Whatever decision that you make, I'll support you. If you're not allowed or it will take another season to sort everything, don't stress or worry about it. I'll be by your side."
You give him an appreciative look and nuzzle your head into his neck. Sunghoon twists to drop a searing kiss on your temple.
Time passes quickly as the two of you skate- at one point, you were playing a game of tag chasing each other all around the rink and pulling out your best tricks. Sunghoon was then curious on trying to pull off some pairs skating stunts, which you indulged for a bit like that couple's yoga challenge, but quickly had to shut down when he was getting too ambitious. Maybe you'll ask Taeyeon and Kibum to show you guys a few tricks one day.
As you were also done for the day, Sunghoon convinces you to come over to his apartment to watch a movie and have some dinner. Heeseung and Chaehyun were coming back later in the evening from Canada, so he proposed that you would tell your two best friends then the new update in your relationship. It's been a week since you got back from the states, but you had just missed your other best friends going to their own competition and they were far too preoccupied to talk.
"If you're gonna stay in Seoul, do you think you'll want to move out?" Sunghoon asks you as he prepares the food on the stove. Apparently, Sunghoon has been attempting to learn how to cook, but you'll be the judge of that since he used to be wary of going near the kitchen after a tragic ramen fire.
You're sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching him work from the side. You volunteered to help, but Sunghoon was determined to cook for you himself, "Maybe Chae and I could move in together if her lease is up soon. We've always talked about doing that one day."
Your childhood home wasn't horrifically far, but anything closer to the rink and to your friends would always be more convenient. You've enjoyed spending time with your family again after all that lost time, but you think that it wouldn't hurt to move out again if you were going to stay in the city. It was just something you had to discuss with Taeyeon once you thought about it some more.
"Mhm, you two could move into a 2 bed in the building if there's one available," Sunghoon agrees, "Or maybe the 4 of us could get a house somewhere or something."
You raise an eyebrow at him, "Woah, take me out on a date first!"
Sunghoon groans at your teasing tone as he stirs the stew on the pot, "Speaking of, will you let me finally take you out this weekend?"
After you got back from the States, the two of you had been swarmed with work and haven't been able to fully explore the relationship that blossomed between you while you were away. You saw each other daily at Taereung, but you hadn't had time to go out together on an official date.
"Looking forward to it, Park," you chirp, "Is it gonna be a surprise?"
He nods knowingly and turns around to bring the pot of kimchi-jjigae over to the pot holder in front of you. The smell is inviting, warm and comforting, perfect for a chilly evening as it was outside. It smells like home and watching Sunghoon buzz around the kitchen collecting the cutlery and bowls feels all the more domestic. You could definitely get used to this.
"I really hope it tastes good," Sunghoon exhales as he takes the bar stool beside you and scoops out a portion of soup and rice for you, "Eat up, my Y/N."
You take the first scoop tentatively, still a bit unsure of how good his cooking will actually be, but when the flavours melt in your mouth and tingle your tastebuds, you squeeze your eyes shut in glee, "Urgh, Hoon, it's good. I'm surprised."
Sunghoon claps joyfully and begins to portion out his food too, "I can't wait for you to see all the tricks I have up my sleeve. I've had to learn a few things about life."
You watch him eat fondly, thinking about how exciting it is to learn about each other again and how you grew as people in the time apart. Knowing everything about a person isn't as exciting as the adventure of slowly discovering new things about each other that makes the person who they are now. The fall out isn't something you'd ever wish for again, but it's time to consider the positives instead of dwelling in sorrow.
"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Sunghoon presents casually as he slurps some broth.
His question has you choking on a piece of kimchi. Sunghoon simply laughs at you and pats your back almost teasingly. When you were in America, you maintained your boundaries in separate rooms as you didn't want to rush into anything, but you must've told Sunghoon that you had a late start the following morning and so did he.
You used to hold sleepovers as kids all the time until you hit puberty and your parents had to pull back on that. When you were in the dorms, you were spending so much time with each other anyway that it didn't feel necessary to have sleep overs. Why cram in one room when Sunghoon could just sneak back a few minutes to his own bed whenever you finished what you were doing?
"Nevermind," Sunghoon giggles melodiously as you eye him.
"No, no- I do. It's just that I've never stayed around a guy's place before," you're likely blushing as Sunghoon squeezes your cheeks.
"You're so cute, Y/N-ah," he coos at you, "But this is the kind of stuff we do while dating, right?"
"Us dating still seems so foreign," you wrinkle your face tight, "It makes me happy, but it's so strange."
Thankfully, Sunghoon doesn't take offence, "I know what you mean; it's definitely going to be a transition, but it's all I ever wanted so we're just gonna have to fight the awkwardness. We can start by overcoming cuddling tonight."
The way he phrases his words has you chortling along with him and he just rolls his eyes and urges you to eat up so you could get ready for the evening ahead. Once you finished your bowl, packed up the leftovers in the fridge for Heeseung and washed the dishes while he dried, Sunghoon was rummaging through his room to find spares of everything to lend you since you were unprepared.
He had better skincare than you, so that wasn't a problem and his scents in his toiletries weren't so musky and masculine that it hurt your nose when you used them in the shower. Sunghoon was glad to remember that he bought his toothbrush in a pack previously, so you brushed your teeth together bumping hips and competing with each other to see who would spit first. He picked out a baggy shirt for you and some joggers that had a drawstring so you could be comfortable.
Eventually, you found yourselves with your legs tangled together on the couch after he dragged his duvet out to the living room. They had one of those modular couches that was L-shaped in the day, but could be moved around to create a sort-of bed situation that was perfect for movie nights. He had put on the latest Spider-Man film, remembering how you used to watch Andrew Garfield's franchise back when you were younger and you used to think he was so cute.
"Do you still think he's the best Spider-Man?" Sunghoon hums as he appears on the screen in what was once one of the exciting appearances in cinema.
"Yeah, but Tom Holland has played his version in so many movies now and he's really good," you reply after some thought, turning to find him incredibly close to your face, "Woah."
Sunghoon's arms were wrapped around your middle, but he pulled you closer to snuggle tighter, "You're so cold, baby."
You hide your face into his chest and muffle your voice against his shirt, "You're making me shy."
His body begins to vibrate as he breaks out in fits of giggles, "Trust me, I feel shy around you too. You honestly make my heart do crazy things without even trying."
You pound your fist against him, "Hoon, stop!"
"What?" he whines defensively, moving his hand up to your chin to guide you out of hiding, "Look at me."
Your cheeks are permanently red around your best friend as he gazes down at you with all the fondness in the world in his eyes, "Stop it or I'll leave!"
Sunghoon rolls his gleaming eyes playfully and nudges his nose against yours- something you quickly learned he loved to do before kissing you, "Nah, you love me too much to leave."
Instead of answering him, you just connect your lips together again, letting his natural warmth spread to your cold body. His arms tighten around you, pressing you up against him as he pressed rougher. He tasted like the sharp mint from your toothpaste, combined with his cherry lip balm that he had applied after, but there was also his own very distinct taste that you were growing more addicted to.
You feel him smile into the kiss before he squeezes at your waist and moves so that he was more hovering over you instead of beside you. Your heartbeat was thudding rapidly in your chest as he pulled away but then immediately attached his lips onto your neck in a spot that had you breathing out his name like it was sacred.
You must have been so preoccupied in Sunghoon that both of you missed the beeping of the keypad and the sound of the handle turning.
"Oh shit," Heeseung gasps as the front door swings open to give him a perfect view of the two of you.
You and Sunghoon let out a yelp that was more surprised from you but frustrated from him. He shoots the fellow skater a menacing glare, "Do you know how to knock?"
Heeseung scoffs at the two of you, "Well, yes. Except that you're in the living room and this is also my apartment. So happy you guys made up but can you keep making out in your room, please?"
At this point, you've shuffled so far away from Sunghoon and are hiding your face in the comforter in embarrassment. You wanted to tell them you were together, but that didn't mean you wanted Heeseung to catch you two.
"Who's making out?" you hear a familiar voice fade in behind Heeseung, "You left your passport with me, Heeseung-"
Chaehyun stops in her tracks when her eyes land on you on the couch, looking all bashful with Sunghoon emitting an annoyed aura. She presses Heeseung's passport into his chest without breaking eye contact with you as she approaches you menacingly.
"Y/N, Sunghoon. Do you have something to tell us?"
"Yes, but Hee walked in before we could get a warning that you were back," you sheepishly say.
"I actually texted the groupchat when we pulled up to the parking garage," Heeseung interjects, but Sunghoon just flips him off.
"This-" she points between you and Sunghoon, "Must have happened in America, right?"
"Yeah, we just wanted to wait until you two got back," Sunghoon shrugs, "Speaking of which, congrats on bringing home two golds guys."
Your eyes widen in remembrance as you leap up to crush your best friend in a hug, "Oh my God, yeah! I'm so happy for you Chae. And you, Hee."
Chaehyun rubs your back and nuzzles herself into you, "I guess there's much to celebrate tonight. Do you guys wanna drink? I'm really happy for the two of you as well."
You pull back from Chaehyun and direct your sparkling eyes over to your boyfriend, "Yeah, me too."
Your eyes dart over to Heeseung as well, who was on a sudden mission to find any and all alcoholic beverages he had in the apartment. Sunghoon springs up from his position, already scolding his elder for the mess he was making in the cupboards trying to investigate. Chaehyun is beaming at you and you feel the sincerity in her expression. Having seen you at the lowest points in your life, it's a happy departure to where you are now.
She can feel you start to get emotional and reminiscent, so Chaehyun simply pulls you back into a warm embrace. The happiness you feel is so new, just like your relationship with Sunghoon, but you would never trade it for the whole world.
The road to this moment was rocky and it felt never-ending at times. There were so many moments you felt so lost on your place in the world, but as Sunghoon returns to you and pulls you into his body, your heartbeats syncing together slowly, you feel that your way back home was worth it.
a/n: thank you millions for reading. find my masterlist here & all likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are so, so appreciated <3
four years of no contact. it’s been four years since the two of you laid eyes on each other, yet that never stopped the ceaseless thoughts. after splitting to focus on your careers, you thought you would never see him again. it seemed the universe was aching to prove you wrong.
𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
— in-universe: pro-hero!bakugo x pro-hero!reader
✮ content. mentions of blood/violence. kidnapping/abduction. experimentation. physical & psychological torture. PTSD. implied self harm. talks of trauma. angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort. regret. mutual pining. friends to lovers. insomnia. eventual romance. (very) mild smut, talks of recovery.
✮ info. all class 1A characters are 22/23 years old and pro heroes; dynamight is 4th, deku is 5th and Reader is 37th. reader has an energy manipulation quirk. reader's hero type is "The Kinetic Hero" (i.e. - "explosion hero," "gravity hero," etc.). bakugo's "nickname" for reader is lite-brite (a pun on her quirk).
『 rating: mature (16+) | status: in progress | word count: 33.4k | ao3 version 』
✧. ┊ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 (𝟓𝐤)
The dynamic duo of dynamight and deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. their journeys were tough, but offered them the world - fame, fortune, protection of their family and friends, a comfortable hero life. the recent increase in crime around tokyo kept their entire sector busy, sending heroes out non-stop, desperate to keep the statistics as low as possible to maintain a clean reputation. when a nearby sector is requesting assistance, the boys are tasked with a mission to inspect a villain's lair in a deserted area outside of the city. reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks. with plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you're chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal.
✧. ┊ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝟒.𝟕𝐤)
A month's time has passed since your abduction and the boys have not given up on finding you by any means necessary. Between late night phone calls, midnight confessions, and endless breakdowns, they're struggling to go on with life as usual like everyone assumes they should. Bakugo in particular is struggling with your absence, cursing how he wasn't strong enough to save you and locking himself away. Midoriya has opted for the opposite, spending multiple sleepless nights searching for you on his own.
✧. ┊ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞 (𝟑.𝟗𝐤)
You have zero clue where you are after your abduction. White walls, medical instruments, the smell of rust, and hazy memories are all that keep you company during your time in the mystery lab. The horrors that lurk between these steel walls are going to give you nightmares for an eternity. All you can think about is getting home to your best friends and family, back to the life you sorely missed.
✧. ┊ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲 (𝟔.𝟕𝐤)
A glimpse of hope appears out of nowhere, giving Bakugo and Midoriya the lead they needed to pursue your location. It proves to be much more difficult than they imagine, so they call upon some friends for a search party.
✧. ┊ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝟒.𝟕𝐤)
The compound is in disarray as the scientist behind the whole operation injects her own serum to fight Bakugo and Midoriya, granting her a mysterious mishmash of quirks temporarily. Still reeling from the effects of the quirk suppressant mixed with the Overdrive drug, you're left powerless - a statue forced to watch your beloved friends fight for your safety. They need to keep her busy until the agency's forces and cops arrive on the scene...but how long will that take?
✧. ┊ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭 (𝟖.𝟏𝐤)
Devastating news is dropped in your lap about your future career as a pro hero. A few days in the hospital leaves you listless about life in general before being sent back home to reality. Even though your environment hasn't changed, your world has been rocked and coming back down to earth feels impossible. Thankfully, Bakugo's more than patient with you and willing to walk you back into normalcy, one day at a time.
Life post-abduction hasn't been easy, especially with nosy media wherever you go and the constant reminder in physical therapy that you're a weakened version of yourself. But, even in the darkness, a light always shines through.
【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】
【 note; made the genshin version... no reason for this to be like 19 pages 😭 】
【 word count; 8.723 | read on ao3 | hsr ver | hsr reader ver | gi reader ver 】
Alhaitham ;
Kaveh gaped at you when you brought a cat into the house, one that… looked eerily similar to a certain blockhead. “I can explain,” you say as you set the cat down on the floor, he doesn’t enter the house further than you do, instead sitting down by your feet and observing the interaction with… interest? Amusement…?
Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.
For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson.
He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination.
He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all.
You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense.
He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.
Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.
But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.
Arataki Itto ;
It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.
You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!
You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.
Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”
He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically.
A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.
Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully.
He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night.
So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.
Baizhu ;
You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.
You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.
Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price.
Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.
The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed.
Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do.
But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.
Cyno ;
You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city!
You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.
You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…
But very well, he wins this round.
Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either!
After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.
You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range.
The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.
He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!
This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.
And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.
Dainsleif ;
He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.
Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.
It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.
You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.
He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort.
Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.
Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.
But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.
Diluc ;
Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!
Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”
He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—
Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…
He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out.
You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you walk over and open the door for him to slip out of.
Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses.
It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.
One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.
You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.
Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.
Kaedehara Kazuha ;
Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.
(Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).
There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.
You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour.
Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…
But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.
He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.
He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not.
On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?
He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.
Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.
You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.
Kaeya ;
Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing.
Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing.
You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human.
He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray.
His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions.
He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek.
After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.
And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny.
He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.
But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?
Kamisato Ayato ;
Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens.
Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.
Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place.
You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.
His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind.
Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.
You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!
He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.
Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does.
He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed.
You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you.
He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.
Kaveh ;
Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.
A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?
Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.
You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.
“... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.
Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”
You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat?
Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.
Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”
Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible.
While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.
But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.
He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.
Neuvillette ;
You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?
You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?
Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.
You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.
He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.
You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.
Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.
Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.
He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.
It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable.
Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.
Tartaglia ;
You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.
You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.
Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over.
Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.
You set your haps on your hips. “What?”
“Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat.
… fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”
What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!
He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.
He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.
Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other.
He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches.
In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds.
Thoma ;
He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.
But he also has a problem…
He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself.
Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around.
Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him.
Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week.
But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work.
The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it.
He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it.
Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.
His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work.
Venti ;
You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.
Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes.
He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat.
Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.
He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself.
Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.
And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing.
You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”
Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares.
Wanderer ;
He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.
And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.
He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.
At least, that was the plan.
Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.
As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat.
He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it!
And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes.
He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days.
You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away.
It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!
Wriothesley ;
At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*.
You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”
He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard.
You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!
It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.
On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!
He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.
Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…
You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.
He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks.
Xiao ;
He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach.
You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat.
He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn.
He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.
… after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…
But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy.
He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.
Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.
But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill.
But he does. Not. Meow.
Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…
Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.
Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.
Zhongli ;
At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.
You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.
After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.
You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom.
Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before.
He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping.
He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do.
Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission???
You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this.
* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.
* wriothesley is supposed to be a maine coon type of cat, just huge and heavy. but not wild cat huge.
505 touya todoroki falls in love with you - and he musters up the courage to display his heart's true desires the day you help him dye his hair - just how can he control himself when your soft hands are rubbing his scalp so sweetly?
baby, why so bitter? dabi has always had a hard time communicating his emotions - but he tries anyway for you. he'll fight because it's all he's ever known - but your tear stricken face as he's leaving never fails to bring him crawling back to you - the only home he'll ever know.
lull in the storm dabi finds you awake late at night - and he's determined to know what's keeping you from sleeping.
i love you, it's ruining my life you find a broken touya todoroki bloodied and bruised. and as a civilian with a healing quirk, you make the mistake of saving what you believed to be an innocent man.
i like the way you kiss me, i can tell you miss me you learn what a cry baby touya todoroki is when it comes to the things he loves - meaning you.
mis rainy days with him were always a good day. but no matter how beautiful the rainbows were after a storm, nothing could compare to his soft smile after a day spent with you.
his hero dabi finds his new obsession - you - a sweet hero who he just loves to play cat and mouse with
dabi's dearest dabi as a father - who knew he was such a family guy? (daddy dabi daddy dabi daddy dabi it's all i can think of fawkk)
ocean eyes touya todoroki is boy who can't always communicate his love for you - but you're willing to wait for him, no matter how long it takes.
heaven and back he's destroying a rivalry villain base when he finds you there, a prisoner. known to the world as a villain - dabi becomes your hero.
thoughts and headcanons.
valentines day! mha men and valentines day
silent treatment giving dabi the silent treatment was hard. especially since he was such a handsomely persistent pain in the ass
the morning after the morning after your first time with him
his kiss goodnight after his death, you visit touya's gave. accepting your own death while laying atop of your lovers coffin was a fitting end
boyfie headcanons! just thoughts abt dabi being the best boyfriend evaaaa
flawed and flawless dabi can't help but compare himself to you at times. during a rare moment where his insecurities were too strong to mask, you assure him of your love.
synopsis. you had the biggest, fattest crush on bakugou katsuki in high school, which granted you weird looks and judgment from those who found out, because why, when you could fawn over prince-like todoroki or manly kirishima instead? fast forward to 10 years later, though, and now the joke’s on them, because #2 pro-hero dynamight just got dubbed the hottest bachelor of the year.
but that doesn’t matter, because you’re over him now. you’ve been over him, ever since that butchered attempt at confessing where he dismissed you as a gen ed extra before you could even get the words out.
so why, all of a sudden—and an entire decade later—do you have to work with him on a top-secret mission?
status. ongoing!
working tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), a lot of cussing (bkg-typical), several mentions of bullying & discrimination (quirk supremacy), reader has a quirk :0, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg, canon-typical violence, nsfw themes (is there gonna be eventual smut? we shall see)
Pov: your boyfriend being a nasty clingy baby behind closed doors. There's no escape from his terrible loving grasp. Everyone would think that he would be the man in the relationship, but he's really just an annoying gremlin who starves for your love and attention <3 But what happens when you refuse to give him what he wants?...
Warnings: cursing, mentions of blood cuz of period, pro hero!reader, manly pouty kiri, and lovestruck puppy shouto. No poly relationship, just separate headcanons. Pro hero!Shouto and Kiri and are in their 20s. Reader is insanely strong, and Shouto follows you everywhere, lmao.
Contains: fluff, crack, established relationships, mentions of pregnancy in Kiri's, Shouto is very clingy and adorable, Kiri is very manly but acts like a baby with you. You carry Kiri but struggle cuz he's a big boy. Mentions of reader being on her period in Shouto's.
Kirishima Eijirou.
☆°~ We all know that Eijirou is very manly indeed. He's the perfect gentleman and has a big heart. What most people don't know is that he uses his strength and handsome face against you. Yes, Eijirou becomes a complete teddy bear when he's with you.
☆°~ It's a good thing you have lots of strength from hero training. Otherwise, your back would break while you carried your boyfriend like a princess. Yeah, this was your life, now.
☆°~ You glance at the burly man clinging onto you, shark teeth on display as he grins cheekily. You were currently in the kitchen, trying to make yourself a snack when your hunk of a boyfriend decided to wrap his legs around your waist and his strong arms around your shoulders.
☆°~ Eijirou giggles, ruby eyes glimmering with pure adoration as he squeezes you from cuteness aggression. You groan, chuckling as bit as your hands are placed under his thighs steadily.
"Eiji, baby?" "Yes, sweetheart?" "Why are you doing this?"
☆°~ The redhead pouts at you, obviously not happy with your tone as he nuzzles his nose against yours, humming out a whine from the back of his throat when you roll your eyes sarcastically.
☆°~ A heavy sigh leaves your lips, placing your muscular boyfriend down onto the kitchen counter as you walk towards the fridge. Eijirou whines at the loss of your warmth, trying to make grabby hands toward you, but you ignore him. You were hungry. And not even your boyfriend should get in the way of that.
☆°~ Eijirou pouts, hopping off of the counter as he waddles towards you. Big, strong arms wrap around your waist as he lifts you up and presses you against his chest. You yelp at the sudden action, sending him a glare, but he just gives you his signature shark toothed grin.
"Eijirou, if you don't let me-" "Shhhhh, babyyy. I just wanna hold ya close to me-"
☆°~ You groan dramatically, trying to wiggle around in his tight embrace, but he shakes his head no quickly and squeezes your even tighter. You wince, being held like a cat as your boyfriend giggles and sways you around, being overwhelmed with cuteness aggression as he presses a hard, sloppy kiss to your cheek.
☆°~ Your eye twitches in irritation, your hunger growing even more while Eijirou coos at you and nuzzles you like a cat. You love your boyfriend, you really do! But right now? You were contemplating if you should sell him online or not.
"Why must you suffocate me with your affection?" "Because I love youuuu." "Fair enough."
☆°~The redhead giggles, holding you against him as he watches you make a sandwich. He leans his chin on your shoulder, opening his mouth signaling he wants a bite of your sandwich. You roll your eyes, a small smirk spreading on your lips when you deny him your food.
☆°~ Eijirou's jaw drops in offense, gasping dramatically when you take a big bite of the sandwich. You bat your eyelashes at your boyfriend, looking at him dead in the eye as you chew the food in your mouth.
"Baby! You're so mean!" "Suffer."
☆°~ He pouts, mumbling incoherently as he gently chews on your shoulder instead. You snort, letting him carry you towards the sofa as he stomps his feet against the wooden floors. Eijirou waddles with you in his arms, collapsing down on the sofa as he sits you on his lap and presses a wet smooch onto your lips.
☆°~ You sigh in defeat, letting him use you as a teddy bear as he sneakily takes a bite of your sandwich. Your eye twitches in irritation, as the redhead blinks at you innocently with his cheeks full like a chipmunk.
"Eijirou!" "I love you, honey!"
☆°~ You groan, slapping his chest to which he fake cries. Your boyfriend is not only clingy but is also a big back who loves to steal your food. Unfortunately, you love him too much to sell him on eBay.
Todoroki Shouto.
☆°~ Shouto was your lovely boyfriend. He was sweet and kind, not to mention he was a totally gentleman towards you. But Shouto was also surprisingly clingy when it came to you.
☆°~ You sigh, glancing at your boyfriend, who was currently playing with your fingers while standing next to you. You were currently sitting on the toilet while on your period. And Shouto wanted to be supportive.
☆°~ The half and half stares at the floor tiles, holding your hand in his as he sits on the edge of the bathtub; waiting patiently for you to finish so he can help place the pad in your undies. You chuckle awkwardly, slowly standing up as he reaches to take unwrap the pad cover.
"Sho?" "Yes, darling?"
☆°~ A blush creeps up your cheeks at the nickname, clearing your throat as your boyfriend stares at you in complete adoration, puppy eyes blinking at you as you awkwardly clean yourself and flush the toilet.
☆°~ Shouto places the pad carefully in your undies, throwing the trash away in the bin as he helps you stand up while placing his left hand on your stomach.
"Do you feel better now?" "Yes, my love. Thank you."
☆°~ Your boyfriend blushes at the praise, wrapping his arms around you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. A smile appears on your lips, washing your hands as the half and half hands you a towel afterward.
☆°~ You continued doing chores around the house, with Shouto following behind you in his duck slippers and All Might themed pajama pants. He was like a puppy who didn't want to be separated from its owner, not that you minded that much anyway.
☆°~ Shouto pouts, the tips of his fingers gently holding onto the hem of your shirt as he follows you around the apartment. He was waiting for you to finish so you both could cuddle and relax. He doesn't like it when you overwork yourself, especially during your period.
☆°~ The peppermint-haired boy huffs, finally having had enough of you doing chores as he gently holds your wrist and drags you towards the bed. You squeak in surprise, letting him move you around as he lightly shoves you onto the bed and flops down on top of you.
☆°~ You huff out a laugh, grinning teasingly at him as he nuzzles his face into your chest and wraps his arms around you, his left hand heating up a bit as he places it onto your lower tummy; acting as a heating pad to which you sigh in appreciation.
"Thank you, baby. You're so good to me."
☆°~ You coo at him, hands reaching to play with his soft hair as he hums in acknowledgment. His head nuzzling into your collarbone so you don't see the blush on his cheeks. Shouto wraps his legs with yours, tangling them as he grabs the remote and places it on your face for you to grab.
☆°~ You blink, confused by his sudden action, but he huffs slightly while pulling you closer to him.
"I want to watch a Disney princess movie."
☆°~ You grin lovingly at him, grabbing the remote off of your face as you go to watch Tangled. Who were you to say no to him? Shouto was your precious clingy baby. And you spoiled him nonetheless.
— note; this series was posted on my ao3 just under a year ago. now it's here :) terry’s chapter following soon🤍ish. bold dialogue is in english. edited.
— synopsis; soobin had an agenda when he made plans with you for the night you arrived back in korea, consisting of jjk 0 and some much-needed late night cuddling. if 'fate' decided other things should occur, who are you to deny it? 5.8k words.
— cw; hella fluff, smut, poly relationship (ot5 + you), long distance relationship, yn usage like twice, idol txt, actor reader, domtop male reader, pervy & desperate soob 😋, dry humping, unprotected sex, kind of rough sex, multiple orgasms.
the doorbell rings throughout their home just as the sun begins to set, all five inside perking up like meerkats at the familiar sound. even beomgyu and yeonjun pause their minor argument to turn their heads towards the source of the noise. since the moment you had told them you were boarding the plane for your first flight, the idols had been buzzing with energy, enough to rival the day of their comeback performances.
“he's finally here!”
"HYUNGGG!!!”
"shut up, man. you're so loud." taehyun throws beomgyu out of the way to unlock the door, his light scowl turning into a bright grin as soon as your figure comes into view. the second-youngest lunges at you with a delighted squeal, knocking the breath out of your lungs and the bag out of your hand in the process. “i’m so happy to see you, oh my god.”
“oof— aha i missed you too, tyun.” you laugh, but you don’t have much time to give him the squeeze you both desired before you’re being dragged inside by kai and lofted with the weight of four more bodies.
“where did our manager go? did he leave?”
“yeah, he said he didn’t want to seventh-wheel.” you shrug and the rest nod in agreement. he gets ignored often enough as it is.
the dorm floods with golden light as taehyun and hyuka help you bring in your luggage, before ushering you into the main living area, shoes and coat left behind in the small entryway. your eyes widen and your steps falter in mild surprise when your eyes fall on the actually visible room, “don’t tell me you guys actually cleaned up the place?”
“only for you babe,” beomgyu winks at you, sneaking his arms around your waist to lean on your shoulder in a hug. you wrap your own around his shoulders and grasp his face with one hand, bringing it close so you could press your lips all over his handsome features — long-hair suited him so well. he erupts into a fit of giggles, positively glowing at the much-anticipated physical affection.
“really? you’re so sweet to me gyu.”
“look at him taking all the credit! he didn't even do anything,” kai protests, now relaxing on the couch with a dolphin squishmallow cosied into his arms. he opens them up when you look in his direction, plushie quickly forgotten, and pulls an adorable pout. “hueningie wants cuddles~!”
“yah! i folded all the blankets and put the pillows in aesthetically pleasing places! what did you do?” you let out a laugh at their bickering and give beomgyu one more kiss on his temple, before walking out of his embrace to fall into the blonde’s. he’s soft and comfortable, his warmth nothing short of the perfect remedy after your long travels.
kai wiggles with joy under your weight, and then is quick to wrap all four of his limbs around your body. you innocently kiss his neck in greeting at first, before unleashing a fury of fingers against his sides. while you know how the youngest can become scarily immune to such attacks, it catches him off-guard and you spoil yourself with his sweet laughter. your heart flutters terribly at the sound. oh, how you’d missed them.
beomgyu is next on the pile when he throws himself onto your back and effectively knocks the wind out of the both of you, you for now the second-time since you arrived. oh, physical affection. the rest of your boyfriends surely make their way over, and soon you’re all a puddle of body parts.
it’s only when taehyun speaks up from his spot under yeonjun’s arm and the opposite end of the couch that the body pile stirs some minutes later, “have you eaten yet, hyung?” not forsaking its opportunity to shine, your stomach growls with the strength of ten starving men before you could answer. taehyun laughs as he gently wrestles his way out, “i guess not. should we order something?”
“oh my god, yeah,” you all but moan at the mention of an irresistible takeout, “i’ve missed korean food.”
“me too! my digestive system needs to remember home!” soobin whines. “i want tteobokki.”
yeonjun flicks the younger on the neck, a pale red mark beginning to bloom almost instantly as soobin yelps, “it’s not about you – yn?”
“anything’s good when I’m eating with you guys. do you know what would make it better though?"
"what?"
"if it was free… one!”
“two!”
“three!” “four!"
“five!”
“five-! aish, fine.” soobin admits his defeat fairly quick with a meek smile, met with laughter and cheeky comments at his fortune.
"thank you, bunny!” now you’re all separated, for the most part, your cuddling with the youngest had yet to cease, you blow soobin an enthusiastic kiss. but that’s not enough for him. he crawls to your side on all fours, capturing your face to kiss you deeply before pinching your unguarded butt in return for your teasing.
“this is your welcome back gift, just so you know hyung. on top of watching the movie with me tonight.”
"mhm, okay loser." after that kai swats him away, not unlike an annoying fly, and squeezes you closer, his hand reaching to rub the inflicted area. you indulge his cute pampering with a kiss, missed you.
“oh? what’re you watching?” taehyun glances up from his phone, seeing as this was the first he was hearing of it. soobin rolls his eyes and explains that he's definitely mentioned it before — most likely not even a couple of hours ago because he's been so excited — but when met with blank stares, he still has to jog their memories.
they all knew how big of a fan the two of you were. the movie had come out a while ago, but you wanted to watch it together and so had planned to do just that once life had granted the opportunity. and that opportunity would be tonight. the other four had been invited at some point, yet they had all passed it up. the offer seemed much more tempting now that it dangled before them as there seemed to be some second thoughts.
with the release of the name chapter: temptation and their world (read: asia & usa) tour, and your own work and promotions, quick video calls and frequent texting were the only things available to tide your relationships over. you were all itching to spend some essential quality time together. now that their band had thankfully been granted a two-week break (though far from enough) before freefall activities, and you found a gap in your schedule, it was time to make back all of the missed moments. soobin was the lucky one to win the first patch of alone time.
with no further comments, beomgyu switches on the playstation and pulls up mortal kombat, passing you your personal controller as a silent invitation. you spin around in kai's arms so you’re lying back-to-chest between his strong legs, your own resting on taehyun’s who sat at the other end of the couch. one of kai's hands rests on your throat, finger drawing absentminded patterns on the skin of your neck. soobin had settled besides you on the floor, head resting next your waists while he orders his desired tteok, tossing other food items into the basket when requested. yeonjun had folded himself over beomgyu’s back like a koala, the two holding each other up on the floor not unlike a piece of human art.
ah, you’d missed this so much.
it’s not long before the food arrives, but in that time you managed to heave your luggage into their shared walk-in closet, unpack the necessities, and take a quick shower. when you return wearing an assortment of your boyfriends’ clothes, kai and soobin are in the middle of a bloody duel, closely tied when the doorbell rings for the last time that night. it’s late, just a little past eleven when you’re finally unpacking the food (kai won).
“soobin-ah, should we just start with everyone here?” he frowns at the suggestion, confusion building on his features. you said you’d watch it together. alone.
“they won’t understand anything, though.” is the first thing that comes to his mind. actually, a straight-up ‘no’ was, but that would’ve been too harsh. not to mention it only would’ve made them jump to do the opposite, knowing the rest.
“it’s the prequel, dummy.” your defence is completely solid against his weak reasoning – no prior knowledge was technically necessary. you can tell he'd rather they didn’t bombard the pair of you with relentless questions though, and to be honest you did feel the same. the infinite love you had for the maknaes wasn’t enough to part ways with the crumbs of animated satosugu available. they don’t seem to want it that bad anymore, anyway, “but that’s fine, let’s watch something else.”
a popular thriller drama is put on the screen as you all settle down with your food, eating to your hearts content and feeling at peace for the first time in a while. one after the other, as the clock ticked on and stomachs filled up, your partners disappear to their rooms, although not without bidding both you and soobin a sweet goodnight.
after downing the rest of his drink, beomgyu places a kiss on your lips tasting sweet with beer, asking (more like telling) you to join him after you’d finished up. he’s quickly satisfied with your enthusiastic nods, smiling at you before he stumbles off sleepily. beomgyu is all but noise and spirit except when he’s tired or asleep, so waking up next to your own sleeping beauty was a peace like none other.
then, it’s just the pair of you in the living room, barely lit by the ending credits rolling on the screen. soobin rises from the reaccumulated mass of blankets and pillows to flick on a lamp and illuminate the dark a bit more. you do the same and stand, stretching your arms above as you do so. a series of satisfying cracks ring out as your spine snaps back into action, prompting soobin to look back at you with a concerned look.
he's met with the sight of your lower stomach peeking out from where your shirt pulls up, eyes focusing in on the happy trail that descends into your shorts. the low, content moan that falls from your lips is the cherry on top that makes his face flare with heat. quickly averting his eyes, soobin starts packing away the leftovers with a quickening heart. he can’t help but laugh at himself, a tad embarrassed at his schoolgirl antics, not unlike an attentive virgin around his crush.
when you move to help him and grab your own remains, the younger relaxes under the impression you'd missed your effect on him, clearly failing to notice the small smirk on your face. although soobin knew his perverted tendencies were about as hidden as thief in broad daylight, even among his beloved fans, he managed to play coy admiringly well. that being said and knowing him as intimately as you did, you’d be lying if you said you weren't expecting him to make a move tonight. but it was getting quite late, and travelling was never an easy forte, even for the seasoned. you even wondered how you’d make it through the movie without dozing off.
as soon as the pair of you had cleaned up sufficiently, you were back on the couch and searching for the much-anticipated movie. you take a seat on one end of the sofa and soobin steals the chance to lay his head on your lap, with his tall body taking residence over the rest.
“wah! i’m so excited!”
“uh, you’re telling me. i haven’t craved seeing someone in moving pixels this much in my life. or two someones. three.” soobin gives you a sideways glance, “i mean anything besides your fancams~! my handsome, talented baby,” his side-eye is gone in an instant with your compliment, a beautiful, dimpled grin taking residence instead. the idol wiggles closer to you, if possible, to bury his flustered expression and giggles into your stomach. he was so adorable.
the opening scene begins with yuta's bullying (awww, poor guy - soobin) and rika's innovative revenge (holy shit, never mind - soobin) and it’s not long before the both of you become absorbed in the plot. it’s only when geto shows up at jujutsu high to state his war on humankind that he stirs. well, when you eventually take notice. he had been writhing in place for a while, until he was all-but doing three-sixty rotations in a poor attempt to get comfortable.
“you good?”
soobin starts at the question and freezes, before brushing off your concern, “no, no. i’m fine.” he spins once more until he’s lying on his side to face the tv. you stare at his gorgeous side profile with an eyebrow raised for a beat and then decide not to push. however you make some adjustments yourself, lifting your hips up to slide down in your seat and take some pressure off your ass that was beginning to grow numb. both soobin’s head and mind follow the movement, the distraction meaning he’s surprised when your hand slips under his shirt to rub at his stomach. it tenses at your touch and he gasps.
you definitely don’t miss how he flinches this time. your hand stops almost immediately and you lift it up from his skin, breaking all contact. the next thing he knows, you’re fully leaning over to look at his face, your upside-down image still unfairly attractive.
“soobin what’s wrong?”
“your hands are cold," he whines and places his larger one over yours briefly, but it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself that's all it is, than convincing you. you grow even more concerned with the meagre excuse and keep your eyes training on him like a hawk, eventually catching him adjusting his shorts. he knows you're looking. there's no doubt about it. it’s harder to hide your snicker as the cogs turn and twist into place.
after some silence you lean back once again, much more relaxed this time, and resume your gentle touches on his supple skin. soobin’s ears flush brightly. his breathing deepens ever so. slowly, you make your way down until your fingers can toy with the elastic band of his boxers, acting none the wiser.
soobin's fingers circle your wrist with no strength behind them, but you pause again anyway, waiting for it. when you don’t say anything, your boyfriend shuffles until he’s on his back and looking up at you, dark hair soft when it falls onto your thighs with gravity. clothing all skew, he meets your eyes, almost shameless as he tugs gently on your wrist.
“keep going, please hyung.” you grin wickedly. there it is. he could be so stubborn when he wanted to, but this clearly wasn’t one of those times. you give a pleased hum and press harder, near groping at the plush of his abs. he moans softly, eyes closing. it gets you racing. an insatiable urge to swallow your lover up overcomes you like a wave, and you find yourself eating up his every reaction. you needed to hear more, see more, feel more.
your hand roams all over his body, his chest, his small waist, his toned thighs – everywhere but the one place he needed you the most. a whine pierces the air.
“you’re not being fair jagiii,” his sharp eyes drop to your crotch and back up to you as he presses his lips against your sex, voice dropping low. “didn’t you miss me? i missed you so much hyung, missed you inside me,”
oh fuck. you watch, entranced, as soobin mouths at your bulge. the sight makes you throb, hips twitching forward in response. it's enough for you to start palming at his tented shorts, his big cock almost fully hard with you barely touching him, and his response is everything you dreamed of. quiet, airy moans slip from pretty pink lips as he ruts into your hand, eyes rolling shut once again. his hand lands on top of yours and pushes down firmly, desperate for something more. it’s intoxicating, beyond what his memory could give credit to, and even that loses its strength as he feels his sanity slipping away with every second that passes.
you use your other hand to run through his hair, tugging lightly as you whisper to him, "this what you wanted, baby? feels good?" you know soobin’s close when his legs start to tremble, and his noises get louder, your name slipping from his mouth in a single-minded trance. he’s reaching a crescendo, feeling himself teetering on the edge of a long-awaited climax at your hands. almost there, so close, he sighs breathlessly, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
but then you stop moving, palm still cupping his erection, and his eyes fly open. “hyung? why, why? please?” it’s endearing how he bundles closer to your body, and then once he realises your positions aren’t effective in reaching his goal, he’s clambering onto your lap with all the grace of an overgrown bunny. he looms over you, lean body caging yours in. it’s really nothing short of amusing, despite how worked up you both are.
“you’re cute, binnie. i love it when you get so needy like this; it makes me wanna take you apart, piece,” one hand plants itself on his plump ass, “by piece.” the other finds his other cheek. he doesn’t get the chance to react to your words before you’re drawing his hips closer, a yelp falling from his lips while he grabs your shoulder for balance at the rough movement. not needing any extra prompt, soobin hurriedly sets up his own pace, fast and uneven flits of his length into your lower stomach.
“shit! oh fuck, fuck,” so loud. you crash your lips onto his, sucking, biting, and pulling at the tender flesh to swallow his moans. despite the heat building up, you’re acutely aware of the time and didn’t currently want an audience. your touches are far from gentle though, making it hard for your boyfriend to control himself. you pinch and scratch at his hips and juicy ass, knowing your bunny liked a little pain. “i’m gonna cum,”
“yeah? you gonna cum for me baby, all over hyung's stomach?” soobin’s moans rise in pitch at the thought of his seed painting your skin, a tune worthy of a world-class singer, and you find yourself rutting against his ass unconsciously, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. not long after that soobin is squirting and soiling his shorts with a vulgar wail, thighs constricting besides your own as pleasure racks his body. his body burns hot, not helped by your soft kisses on his neck and face as he comes down, chest heaving with his panting.
your touches slow until your hands land on his waist below his shirt, skin slightly damp from exertion. when his head clears, he flashes you a lazy grin before burrowing into your neck and encasing you in a firm embrace.
“’m so happy you’re back, you don’t even know.” his warm breath sends tingles down your spine. you hum and let your head fall back, closing your eyes as you feel him nip lightly at your neck. he’s still seated on your very stimulated crotch, you note, as you throb under his weight. “…i meant what I said before; want you inside me.”
you crack open one eye to see him now staring you down with a hard look, and you sigh despite the jumps in beat your heart takes at his words. exhaustion had settled deep in your bones at this point — you’re certain that if your crafty boyfriend hadn’t stolen your attention, you would’ve been far into the realm of dreams. “i’m sooo sleepy though.”
“i’ll ride you,” both eyebrows are raised at the suggestion. choi soobin, just about the most unathletic person you know, and runner up for txt's pillow prince – hyuka sat rightfully at first place – is offering to do all of the work. not that he hasn’t plenty times before, and very well mind you, it’s just not often proposed by him, and rarely with as much enthusiasm.
“we still gotta prep you.” you point out. soobin breaks out into a sheepish smile, looking away from you in mild embarrassment.
“i already did it.” looks like your intuition was correct. one round was usually unsatisfactory for all of your boys, but soobin especially seemed to have the highest sex drive out of the six of you. hands start to fiddle with your shirt's neckline in growing timidness at your silence. the mix of liquids that made home in his boxers quickly lose their warmth, sticking to his body in a way that made his skin crawl. “babe i told you, i missed you.”
“i know that. don’t think i didn’t feel the same, soobin-ah. i missed you more than the world, and you know that. you guys have each other, at least.”
at the sight of your frown, soobin quickly backtracks, not wanting to ask more of you if you weren't in the mood. he's more than aware of how taxing the constant distance from all five of them is on you, “i know, i know, i’m sorry, hyung. it’s fine if you don’t wanna do anymore tonight. we have time, right?”
he kisses you roughly on the cheek a handful of times in an apology, the soft muscle becoming firmer as your smile builds. the movement inevitably causes some friction where your dick lays nestled beneath him, and when the leader readjusts to continue his flurry of attacks, a small moan slips out of your mouth. he latches onto it with speed, starting to roll his hips down in light provocation, “i can leave you like this if you really want me to…”
you have to stifle a groan. soobin knows it's working despite your attempts. he targets your neck again with his teeth careful not to leave harsh marks and relying on his memory to hit your weakest spots. it certainly isn’t long with his firm rocking until your mind is made up. after you pat his thigh, soobin slides off your lap. he watches with curious eyes as you stand tall, eyes falling to the extremely noticeable tent in your shorts.
you purposefully move over to the tv stand to rustle in its drawers before you return, a bottle of lube and a condom in hand. soobin eyes the shiny rectangle in your hand with slight disdain, and you reiterate your tired state as well as point out that he always hated cleaning up after you came in him, regardless of how much he loved it in the moment.
“the first time we fuck in months and you’re gonna put a piece of rubber between us, that’s crazy.” is his response.
“oh, hush. you really don’t want to use it?” he shakes his head. with that, you throw it on the coffee table and the younger beams, showing no falter in his joy when you warn, “i’m pulling out though. back against the armrest.”
once soobin’s comfortably settled with a cushion behind him, you slip between his open legs and lean down to kiss him passionately. as your tongues caress each other, you work to pull off his shorts and boxers, feeling him shiver when the air hits his wet cock, still hard, you're not surprised to see. soobin’s hand squeezes into your own shorts, long fingers wrapping around your pulsing sex. the contact sends a shock of pleasure up your spine and absentmindedly you admit there’s no way you would’ve been able to fall asleep without taking care of it.
swiping your tip with his thumb and collecting your precum, soobin sets a fast pace fisting your cock, pulling a series of gasps from you. he whines against your lips, squirming underneath you in growing impatience, “where’s the lube?”
it takes you a second to register his question, but once it does you blindly reach for where it lay momentarily forgotten next to your bodies and hand it to him, next tugging your pants down just enough for your length to spring out in all its glory. soobin can't help but stare as he drizzles a generous amount on your girth, gulping down the saliva building in his mouth. he lines you up without a moment's delay and soon you’re sinking into his heat.
“you got all ready for me, bun, did it so well.” you sigh, taken aback by the ease with which you pressed in. he keens lowly at your praise and pet name, long legs coming to curl around your hips and knees spread wide as he gives himself up to you. he took extra-long in the shower that day fingering himself open, heart racing at the thought of finally being with you again, at your long-missed touch and attention. the flush on his face spreads throughout his body wildly at the memory.
having eased your way fully into his tight ass, you sit for a moment and take in the feeling of your balls pressed against his rim; it was already getting difficult to think straight. soobin can't take the lack of motion, hips restless in protest of the intrusion, "p-please, please move. don't wait."
you slowly pick up a firm and steady rhythm with his begs, the sounds of your hips smacking wetly on soobin’s ass and thighs filling the air. he watches you through lust-filled eyes, cursing and whining under his breath, sight low at first to watch as you fuck in and out of him skillfully, then moving up to drink up your sinful expressions.
meeting your boyfriend's blown eyes, you moan quietly at his debauched appearance, his damp hair and swollen lips. the air is filled with your combined noises and the obscene sounds of your entanglement, pushing you further into the webs of shameless bliss. you hiss as you try and keep yourself composed under his gaze, hands falling to his toned waist to keep him right where you wanted him.
“fuck, baby you... ” you pause your sentence to gasp, mouth falling open at a particular hard drive of your hips. “you look so pretty like this, such a m-mess,” soobin arches with a loud whine and you feel him squeeze around you deliciously.
he all but purrs your name in response, a hand slipping under your shirt to rest on your chest. he tugs at a nipple until it pebbles between his slim fingers, palming at the fat surrounding it. soobin knows exactly what buttons to press, evident when your head falls forward and you fuck into him harder, white-hot ecstasy engulfing your body.
the couch groans softly under the rocking motions of your combined weight. whatever composure he managed to weave together quickly falls apart again, girlish moans falling from his puffy lips as your tip kisses his prostate with every thrust. “haaah—! ah, ah, ah fuck! just like that please, don't stop,”
the younger writhes endlessly under your hold, not forgetting his manners despite feeling like his brain had clocked out for the night. you're more than happy to feed the cutie’s demands, kissing and licking at his exposed adams's apple as it bobs with his moans, “i know bunny, i know.”
it's like someone had sparked a light and picked up his nerves to dangle above the flame. he didn't have much time to settle from his earlier climax, and now he's getting fucked into the couch by you for the first time in an eternity, leaving him breathless as another raced to make itself known. pausing, you shuffle back on your knees and tug a willing soobin towards you, so his back is now fully flat against the seats. you sit up straighter to then unravel his legs from your waist and pull the one closest to the backrest onto your shoulder. you hold the back of his other thigh and press it towards his chest, leaning your weight on it.
the new position tugs at his hamstrings in a way that burns positively and allows you to reach deeper and deeper, enough that soobin could easily be convinced you were in his stomach. when you start up again the reaction is immediate. his head shoots back, spine arching as he fumbles for his girth that had since lay neglected, weeping clear puddles onto his creamy skin. he uses one large fist to jerk himself off in time with your strokes, the other reaching around your body to grab at your bare ass and pull you in further. it doesn’t do much to accomplish that end, seeing as you were already skin-to-skin, yet the manifestation of his sinful desires makes you feel feral.
“uhhh so ff-ucking good! fill me up baby, need it, waited f' so long,” he cries out, impressively still coherent in his begging. by this point you’re certain those still awake could hear everything, but that would be a problem for tomorrow’s you to deal with. his words fly straight to your dick, and you find yourself briefly doubting your choice not to.
soobin fucks himself down onto you to the best of his ability, aching length left behind to tightly circle your waist with his legs once again and pull you onto his lips. it isn’t long then, till his toes are curling with deep pleasure as his second peak hits, whimpering out ‘hyung’ and ‘thank you’ while his cock spurts his load strongly onto his shirt.
“wait, soobin. shit, i’m gonna fucking cum!” you can't help but rut into his ass with a deteriorating rhythm as you tumble closer to your own climax, and reconsider pulling out once again — he was so warm around you… and he asked so nicely… it was always hard saying no to him. but you remember the lateness once more, and imagine his complaining tomorrow, something his wet eyes and captivating sounds can't negate. choice chosen.
you'll make it up to him later.
it takes every piece of your remaining strength — and willpower — to break soobin’s firm brace around your body and pull out from his warmth, but you succeed pretty easily with his boneless state. it leaves you scrambling to regain balance with one hand and to fist yourself with the other before your orgasm comes crashing down relentlessly, your cum joining the intimate liquid already smeared all over the younger's dick and stomach.
you stay in that position for a minute, waiting until the intense light-headedness passes before you blink open your clenched and teary eyes. soobin avoids eye-contact with pursed lips, knowing what was coming.
“yah. what’re you playing at, keeping your legs around me like that?” you scold him in a whisper, using your clean hand to squeeze at his cheeks and turn his head towards you.
“sorry,” he replies, words failing to match up with his tone. he takes your ‘little shit’ with a cheeky smile, tugging you down to fully rest on him. he’s past overstimulated by this point, so it’s a little uncomfortable, but he pushes past it to give your upper body some rest. his fingers play with the damp curly hair at the base of your neck, the other massaging your arm while you catch your breath.
you could fall asleep right then and there, you think to yourself, eyes having closed against your will. you check the time on your phone, seeing that you were now well into the early morning of the next day. stifling a yawn, you eventually pick yourself up from soobin’s chest and tug off your drenched shirt. he’s drifting in and out of sleep himself, making you smile as you use the shirt to wipe his stomach down and rid yourselves of as much fluid as you can.
“oi, that’s mine. i just washed it.” he complains through half-shut eyes, coming out in a low drawl.
“too bad. you should take off yours too; you squirted all over it.” soobin waves you off, slapping your thigh at your crude choice of words. he helps you pull back up your shorts, before you stand up and stretch, cringing a little at the temporary sweat patch left behind in the shape of your legs. he asks you to pass him his own and you do so, throwing them at his face with a big yawn. “so sleepy.”
you stumble off into the kitchen to grab two bottles of water from the fridge. when you return, soobin is up too, now topless, and the tv is off. the room is noticeably warmer despite the lack of bodies, and the heavy smell of sex permeates the room. it’s only then that you remember, slightly disappointed, that you were in the middle of watching something — guess you’ll finish it another time. he pads behind you on shaky feet as you head to the bedrooms, taking the cold bottle you hand him with a small thanks.
“are you sleeping with beomgyu?” you hum in response, coincidentally stopping in front of the brunet’s door. soobin pouts at not being able to get his due post-sex cuddles, but he knows that he can certainly find time to do so within the next few days. he shuffles forward to give you a sweet kiss on the forehead, “sleep well, hyung. thank you for taking care of me. i love you.”
“i love you too, bun. night.”
you peel open the door as soobin makes his way to his own bedroom, trying to let as little light from the corridor in as possible. while you get comfortable for bed, beomgyu doesn’t stir. it’s only when you pull up the covers and slip underneath that he jolts.
“mmh? yn?” you wince at his rumbling voice, annoyed that you’d woken him up but taking the opportunity to pick up speed, settle in on your back and slip your arm under his raised head. the room’s light enough with the approach of dawn that you can just make out his sleepy expression and an array of brown hair up at odd angles, it was an adorable sight. in a hushed voice you answer and urge him back to sleep. yet even without the confirmation, beomgyu had already put his arm around your waist to cuddle up and rest his head on your chest.
“’m so happy you’re back, hyung.” your legs tangle together in second nature, your arms holding him close to you. a small smile pulls at your lips as you finally close your eyes, too exhausted for much else.
✿ warnings: to all the boys I've loved before!Au, quirkless!reader, teacher!reader, aged up characters, all the boys are pro-hero (including Deku).
✿ synopsis: Your childhood letters, the ones in which you declare your love for every crush you had, ended up being sent without your permission. What could come of that?
✿ notes: HELLO EVERYONE, for now I'm only going to post the Masterlist. But I swear I'm trying to finish everything as quickly as possible so you can read it!!! I hope you like my writing, it's the first time I've done a series!
01. [PROLOGUE]
your lovely students, discover about the letters. What a mess they made.
02. [IZUKU MIDORIYA]
your first love, and one of the sweetest. You will always remember him, but now things were different for the two of you.
03. [KATSUKI BAKUGOU]
Your second letter, and the worst of all. Sometimes you wonder why you liked him? But would your opinion change now?
04. [KIRISHIMA EIJIROU]
A little teenage love, an unexpected encounter that happened in a coffee shop when you were 15. You never forgot those red eyes and sharp smile.
05. [TODOROKI SHÕTO]
He was just so charming and funny with the way he dealt with things he didn't understand, but you resigned yourself to the fact that you would never have a chance with him, right?
Pairing: Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Prohero!Ex! Reader
Years after you walked out of his life, Katsuki decides to literally open up his boxes of memories and lay them all out.
He can't stand how his mind won't let you go after all this time.
And after your most recent phone call,
He doesn't think he ever will.
Inspired by the song: Darling, I
Warning: Heavy angst, post break ups, crying Katsuki.
Wc; 4.1 K
'Fuck. I wish I never let you go.'
The room was quiet, save for the crackle of the fireplace and the soft hum of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Katsuki sat cross-legged on the plush black rug, his back against the couch, nursing a half-empty glass of whiskey that he’d barely touched. The firelight danced across his face, its warmth doing nothing to thaw the cold ache in his chest.
In his lap sat an old photo album—something he hadn’t touched in years.
Katsuki told himself it was an accident, finding it while clearing out the closet, but the truth was he’d been looking for it. His fingers hovered over the edge of a photo, the corners worn from years of handling.
It was one of the two of you from your high school days. You were laughing at something Kaminari had said, and Katsuki’s hand rested protectively on your shoulder, a rare, crooked smile tugging at his lips.
“Don’t ever tell a woman you love her if you don’t mean it,”
Kirishima’s voice echoed in his head, from a long-ago conversation.
“You said you did, though. Didn’t you?”
Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his crimson eyes flickering toward the fire.
He said it.
He’d meant it.
God, he’d meant it.
But meaning it wasn’t enough, was it?
The gala came back to him in flashes. The heated argument that had escalated faster than either of you could stop it. Your voice, sharp and cutting, accusing him of shutting you out. His, louder, angrier, drowning out whatever plea you might’ve been trying to make.
And then—fire.
Not from you, but from him.
A blazing retaliation that caught the bottom of your dress and sent you flying over the edge.
“Darling, I keep falling in love.”
The lyrics from some stupid song that’s been trending lately plays unbidden in his mind, mocking him.
‘Falling in love?’
More like falling apart.
And yet,
Sitting here surrounded by the ghosts of your shared life, he wondered if he’d ever really stopped falling.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking the silence. Katsuki leaned forward, the amber liquid in his glass sloshing dangerously close to the edge. He glanced at the screen:
Mom.
“Shit,” he muttered, letting it ring out. Mitsuki Bakugo had been relentless since the holidays began, demanding that he “grow a pair” and talk to you. As if it were that simple.
As if a few words could undo years of hurt and silence.
“Forever’s too long,” he muttered to himself, echoing her favorite line when she brought you up. Yeah, it was too long. Too long to keep replaying the same memories like a goddamn broken record.
Too long to keep holding onto someone who clearly didn’t want to be held.
He drained the whiskey, setting the glass down harder than he intended. The sound echoed in the emptiness of the apartment, and Katsuki winced, running a hand through his messy blond spikes. His gaze shifted back to the photo album, to your smile, frozen in time.
Like you never left.
Katsuki swiped angrily at his face, cursing under his breath. He didn’t even notice the tears until one splashed onto the page.
How the hell had it come to this?
He had everything he’d ever wanted—the fame, the recognition, the goddamn hero ranking to prove it.
But it felt hollow.
“Oh, they wanna tie me down, that bondage just might break. I can’t sign the dotted line; just how long is forever?”
That had been his excuse back then, hadn’t it?
Fear of forever.
Failure.
The weight of tying himself to someone when his career demanded everything.
But now, sitting alone in his cold, immaculate apartment,
Katsuki couldn’t help but think he’d been an idiot.
‘Maybe letting go is a beautiful thing,’ he thought bitterly, except it wasn’t beautiful.
It fucking hurt.
And no amount of hero work or accolades could fill the space you’d taken with you.
The whiskey glass sat precariously close to the edge of the coffee table, its amber contents catching the firelight like liquid gold.
Katsuki stares at it, unfocused, his mind too far gone to care if it tips over. His breaths come unevenly, the weight in his chest pressing down harder with each passing second.
The photo album rested on his lap like a lead weight, and he flipped the page with trembling fingers. There you were again—another snapshot of a life he hadn’t realized he’d been taking for granted.
This one was from your first Hero Gala together.
You wore a sleek, shimmering gown that hugged your figure, and Katsuki stood beside you in his perfectly tailored suit, scowling at the camera while you beamed brightly enough to make up for it.
"Sweet and spicy," Mina had teased back then, snapping the photo.
"The perfect pair."
And for a while, you had been. Katsuki could almost hear your laughter in the silence of the room, could almost feel the brush of your fingertips against his arm as you whispered something to him that cold night air, something only meant for him.
His hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the edge of the page.
The memory of that night—the gala that ended it all—burned at the back of his mind like a scar that refused to fade.
Katsuki stood abruptly, the photo album sliding from his lap and landing with a soft thud on the rug. The whiskey had gone bitter in his mouth, and his chest ached with the weight of it all. He paced toward the window, dragging a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as if to ground himself.
The skyline stretched out before him, the glittering city lights blinking like fireflies in the distance. It was beautiful in a way that made his heart clench.
Somewhere out there, you were living your life, and he had no right to wonder if you ever thought of him the way he thought of you—
Late at night, alone. When the silence was too loud.
“Forever,” he muttered again, his voice low and rough. Katsuki leaned his forehead against the cool glass, his breath fogging the pane as he exhaled.
“Yeah, right.”
His reflection stared back at him, hollow-eyed and tired.
Katsuki hated the man looking back, the hero who could save the world but not himself. The words he’d thrown at you during that fight echoed like gunshots, ricocheting off the walls of his mind.
“You think I can just drop everything for you?” he had snarled, the veins in his neck taut with anger.
The way your face had crumpled… he’d see it every time he closed his eyes.
The argument had started small, as these things often do.
A misplaced comment here, a sharp retort there. Katsuki didn’t even remember what had sparked it anymore, only that it had spiraled out of control faster than he could keep up.
“You think this is enough for me?” you’d snapped, your voice low but venomous, cutting through the noisy chatter of the gala like a blade.
“You think I can just sit back and be your cheerleader while you push me further and further away?”
Katsuki had bristled, his temper flaring instantly. “You think I like this shit?” he’d barked, gesturing to the opulent surroundings.
“You think I asked for people to crawl up my ass every time I breathe? I’m doing this for us!”
“For us?” you’d laughed, bitter and disbelieving. “Don’t lie to me, Katsuki. Don’t act like you love me if you don’t mean it.”
“This isn’t some fairy tale, and I’m not your fucking prince!”
His response had been immediate and instinctive, a roaring denial that had drawn the attention of nearby guests.
But the damage was already done.
You hadn’t yelled back after that. You’d just gone quiet, your lips trembling as if you were holding back words that could shatter you both.
The heat of your anger had flared in your quirk, with you catching the hem of his tuxedo jacket and sending him careening over the balcony with a forceful scream.
When he’d dragged himself back inside, soot-streaked, soaking wet from the rain, and seething—
You were gone.
The soft click of your heels behind you louder than any explosion he’d ever made.
He hadn’t chased you.
Katsuki balled his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms. That had been the biggest mistake of his life—standing there, letting you walk away.
At the time, he’d told himself it was for the best.
You deserve someone who could give you everything, not someone chained to a profession that demanded his soul.
But now, years later, all he had were awards he didn’t care about and an emptiness he couldn’t ignore anymore.
“Da-da, da, keep falling in love,” you’d once hummed softly under your breath, leaning against the kitchen counter in your tiny shared apartment. The one he picked to save up money for Izuku's suit.
You hadn’t noticed him watching you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Back then, the sound of your voice had been enough to ground him after a long day.
He swallowed hard, the memory cutting through him like a blade. “Falling in love,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking.
“What a fucking joke.”
The sound of the glass tipping snapped him back to the present. Katsuki lunged forward, catching it just before it shattered on the hardwood floor. The sudden movement sent the photo album sliding down where he left it, its contents scattering across the rug.
“Fuck,” he muttered, setting the glass aside and reaching for the fallen photos. His fingers hesitated over one in particular—a candid shot of you asleep on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder.
He didn’t even know who had taken it, but it was one of his favorites.
‘Darling, I keep falling in love.’
The melody whispered through his mind again, relentless and mocking. He let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing over your image.
“What the hell was I thinking, letting you go?”
The apartment felt colder than usual, despite the roaring fire. It wasn’t just the lack of your presence—it was the absence of life, of warmth, of anything real.
Furniture was pristine, untouched. The awards and accolades lining the shelves were polished to perfection but hollow in their meaning.
He glanced toward the closet, where a single, dusty box sat in the corner. He hadn’t opened it since you left. It was the only thing you hadn’t taken with you, and he’d never had the guts to look inside.
Katsuki pushed himself to his feet, the photo still clutched in his hand. He made his way to the closet, each step heavier than the last.
When he reached the box, he hesitated, his fingers hovering over the lid.
“Don’t be a coward,” he muttered to himself, gritting his teeth.
With a deep breath, Katsuki pulled the lid off.
The first thing he saw was your handwriting, scrawled across a folded note resting on top of the neatly packed contents. His chest tightened painfully as he unfolded it, the familiar curve of your letters hitting him like a punch to the gut.
Katsuki,
I want to explain, but I don’t know how. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone.
I don’t expect you to change for me. Maybe you hate me, and that’s okay. I just couldn’t do it anymore—not like this.
I loved you. I still do. Maybe I always will. But love isn’t enough when we’re tearing each other apart. I won't continue to stay in a toxic environment.
I love you enough to set you free.
We have so many dreams and I'm going to achieve mine.
I hope you find what you’re looking for. I hope you find happiness, even if it’s not with me.
Keep being a hero I can be proud of.
Forever Your Love and Lady
~Your (maybe) Future Wife
Katsuki gently laid the note from his fist on the coffee table, his vision blurring with unshed tears. His breathing hitched as he sank to his knees, the box forgotten at his side.
Fuck everything right now.
He couldn't have worse timing.
The fire crackled behind him, casting long, flickering shadows across the room. But all Katsuki could see was your face, all he could hear was your voice, and all he could feel was the crushing weight of what could have been.
“Forever’s too long,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
“But it wasn’t long enough with you.”
The photo album lay open on the rug, the pages flipping lazily in the breeze from the cracked window. Katsuki’s gaze drifted to it, the flicker of nostalgia pulling at him like a riptide. He stalked back toward the couch and dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he reached for the album.
The next page revealed another photo, this one candid. You were sitting cross-legged on the grass during a rare picnic, your face half-hidden behind a slice of watermelon, grinning like an idiot.
Next to you, Kirishima was doubled over laughing, and Mina was holding up a peace sign behind your head. Katsuki stood in the background, arms crossed, pretending not to care.
But the way his eyes lingered on you in the photo said everything he never could.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his throat tight.
Katsuki swiped at his eyes again, the tears coming faster now.
He’d spent so much of his life running—running from vulnerability, from the risk of loss, from the terrifying truth that he needed you. But in the end, it didn’t matter how fast he ran. The pain still found him, clinging to his every step like a relentless shadow.
The box, still open beside him, was a time capsule of your shared history. Beneath the note lay a tangled mess of memories: an old hoodie you’d stolen from him, still faintly smelling of caramel and strawberries; a Polaroid of the two of you on your first trip to the beach, his face begrudgingly half-smiling as you threw your arms around him, your old cheerleader uniform, tickets from movie dates, a few notebooks from UA, some bracelets he'd made you; and a small, lopsided clay sculpture of a cat you’d made during some ridiculous pottery class Mina had dragged you both to.
Katsuki picked up the sculpture with care, his thumb running over its uneven surface.
He’d laughed at it back then, calling it ugly as hell, but you’d just grinned and told him it was supposed to be that way—it gave it “character.”
Now, it felt like the most precious thing in the world, its imperfections a mirror to his own.
“Why’d you leave this?” he whispered to the empty room, his voice thick with emotion.
“Why’d you leave me?”
Katsuki knew why you fucking left him.
The answer was written plainly in your letter, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. He’d been too blind, too stubborn to see what you’d needed from him, and by the time he’d realized, it was too late.
He’d pushed you away with his anger, his pride, his refusal to admit that he was terrified of losing you.
And in doing so, he’d ensured exactly that.
Katsuki set the sculpture down with trembling hands, his head falling into his palms as a choked sob escaped him. The world had always painted him as unbreakable, a hero who could withstand anything.
But here, in the solitude of his apartment, surrounded by the remnants of your love, he was just a man
—flawed, broken,
and utterly lost without you.
The melody from the song drifted through his mind again, relentless and cruel,
“Darling, I keep falling in love...”
With a growl, he shoved the box aside and stood, pacing the room like a caged animal. The ache in his chest was unbearable, a gaping wound that no amount of hero work could heal.
He wanted to scream, to punch something, to burn the entire world down if it meant he could feel anything other than this crushing emptiness.
But what would that solve?
What would any of it solve?
His gaze landed on his phone, still resting on the coffee table where he’d left it. Mitsuki’s missed call stared back at him like a challenge, and for once, he didn’t ignore it. With a deep, shuddering breath, Katsuki snatched it up and scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hovering over your name.
He hadn’t deleted it. He couldn’t.
Even after all this time, the thought of erasing you from his life completely was too much to bear.
But now, as his finger hovered over the call button, he hesitated.
What the hell would he even say?
That he was sorry? That he was a coward?
How he still loves you, despite everything?
Instead, Katsuki stared at the screen, his jaw tight and his heart pounding in his chest.
The words won’t come. They never do.
His thumb moved as if on its own, clicking on your contact and opening the text thread. The last message was from you, years ago—a simple,
“Take care of yourself, Katsuki.”
He clenched his teeth, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
He could do this.
He had to do this.
“I miss you.”
The words stared back at him, stark and vulnerable on the screen. He hesitated for a long moment before deleting them. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Instead, he typed something else—something raw, something real.
“I was an idiot. I should’ve fought for you. I should’ve fought with you. I’m sorry.”
He hit send before he could second-guess himself, the message disappearing into the void. The phone slipped from his hand, landing softly on the couch as he sank down beside it. His head fell back against the cushions, his eyes closing as exhaustion overtook him.
For the first time in years, Katsuki allowed himself to hope.
Maybe, somehow, it wasn’t too late.
His phone buzzed again, breaking his spiraling thoughts. This time, it wasn’t his mom.
It was you.
Katsuki froze, his breath catching in his throat. The screen lit up with your name, your contact photo still the same one he’d set years ago—a close-up of your face, mid-scream, after he’d shoved a snowball down the back of your jacket. His thumb hovered over the screen, his pulse pounding in his ears.
What the hell did you want?
His mind raced with possibilities, each one more ridiculous than the last. Maybe you were drunk and scrolling through old contacts.
Maybe it was some bad news.
Maybe you'd dropped your phone in a fight and he was your emergency contact.
Maybe you’d accidentally called him instead of someone else.
Maybe this was some cruel joke on your behalf.
Or maybe—just maybe—you missed him as much as he missed you.
The phone buzzed again, and he cursed under his breath. He let it ring twice more before finally swiping to answer.
“Yeah?” His voice came out gruff, harsher than he intended.
There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, he thought you’d hung up. But then your voice came through, soft and tentative.
“Katsuki…?”
His name on your lips hit him like a punch to the gut. He clenched his jaw, his free hand gripping the edge of the couch for support.
“What do you want?” he asked, his tone defensive, like armor against the hope creeping into his chest.
You hesitated, and he could picture you biting your lip, the way you always did when you were nervous.
“I—I need your help.”
The words hung in the air, fragile and uncertain. Katsuki’s heart stuttered, his mind racing. He didn’t know what you needed, but in that moment, he realized something.
No matter how much time had passed, no matter how deep the hurt ran, he’d never stopped wanting to be the one you called when everything fell apart.
It struck him in a place he’d buried long ago, his chest tightening as memories surged forward unbidden. For a second, the world around him faded.
“Yeah?” he rasped, his voice quieter than he intended, almost reverent.
“I—” You inhaled sharply, the sound shaky as if you were fighting for air. “It’s my grandma’s will. Someone in the family is contesting it, and I—” Your voice broke, and his grip on his phone tightened.
“I thought I had it with me, but I dodn’t. It’s—it’s somewhere in a box back there, and I just—I can’t lose her home. Everything is in there, Katsuki. Everything.”
Your words tumbled out in a rush, frantic and laden with grief. Katsuki could hear it: the weight of losing her, of memories slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.
It made his chest ache, twisting with emotions he hadn’t faced in years.
“You sure it’s here?” he asked, already scanning the room, his mind piecing together where it might be.
“I—I think so,” you stammered. “I was so sure when I packed, but now… Oh, God, I can’t breathe—”
“Hey,” he cut in sharply, his tone grounding. “Breathe. You hear me? Slow and steady, like this.” He exaggerated his breathing into the phone, his breaths loud and deliberate, as if sheer force could drag you out of your spiral. He could hear you on the other end, trying to mimic him, your breaths still jagged but slowing.
Katsuki’s own chest loosened ever so slightly.
“Good,” he said softly. “Now, don’t move. I’m lookin’.”
The room was a mess, strewn with boxes he hadn’t touched in months, maybe years. His hands worked on autopilot, pulling open lids, rifling through layers of forgotten treasures.
Old photos, mismatched socks, gear from training sessions—it was all a blur as he focused on your voice in the background.
“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice quieter now but no less fraught. He heard you talking to someone——and his ears perked the fuck up.
“Yeah, just heat it up. I’ll be out in a second.”
His jaw clenched at the sound of your voice addressing someone else, but he shoved the feeling aside, muttering a string of curses as he knocked over a box. “Damn it.”
“What?” you asked, alarmed.
“Not you,” he grunted, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the piles around him. His palms were clammy, and he scrubbed at them on his pants. “Just...I’m fine.”
Your soft laugh at his flustered tone sent a jolt through him. He grumbled under his breath, trying to ignore the way it made his pulse quicken.
Then, it hit him.
“Wait,” he muttered, turning toward the kitchen.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he snapped, making his way to the freezer. He yanked it open, the cold air blasting his face as he dug past forgotten food containers and ice packs. “Where the hell—”
“Katsuki?”
“Not talkin’ to you!” he barked, banging his head against the freezer’s edge.
“Shit!”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he growled, biting back a string of curses. His fingers burned from the cold as he shoved aside another frosted-over bag. Then, his hand hit something solid and unmistakable.
He pulled it out, a plastic binder covered in condensation, his breath catching in relief. “Got it.”
“What?”
“The will,” he said, holding it up as if you could see through the phone. His lips twitched into the smallest, most fleeting of smiles. “Guess you still hide stuff in the freezer, huh?”
A soft laugh came from your end, tinged with disbelief.
“You found it?!”
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, gripping the binder tighter.
“Told ya. You can count on me.”
For a moment, silence stretched between you, filled with things neither of you could quite say. His chest felt too tight, his palms sweating again despite the chill.
'How do you manage to own me after all this time?'
“Thank you,”
You whispered, your voice softer now, warmer. It was the first time in years he’d heard you sound like this—like you trusted him.
And damn if it didn’t feel like coming home.
“Can we meet?” you asked, your voice hesitant but steadying. “At the ramen spot near the convenience store? You know, the one we used to go to…”
The memory of that little shop flickered to life in Katsuki’s mind. The mismatched chairs, the warm glow of the neon sign, the way you’d always insist on extra toppings while he rolled his eyes and covered the bill anyway.
But the image was quickly replaced by another—a blur of voices, the usual get-together Ochako and Mina loved organizing.
Everyone would crowd into the tiny space, including Shinsou, Aizawa, and even Eri perched on her dad’s side.
He grimaced. “Tch, I dunno if that’s a good—”
The sound of a crash on your end cut him off.
“Shit!” you gasped, your voice sharp with worry. Katsuki’s heart leapt into his throat.
“What the hell was that?” he barked, gripping the phone tighter.
There was no response, just the sound of you dropping the phone and running. He could hear muffled voices, your hurried footsteps, and the faint murmur of concern as you called out,
“Are you okay?”
For a moment, his stomach twisted.
What if you weren’t safe? What if—
But then he heard it.
You were laughing.
It started soft, a chuckle slipping through the static, but it grew, spilling out in full-bodied peals that echoed through the line. Katsuki froze, his pulse roaring in his ears.
Your laugh.
It hit him like a freight train, vivid memories rushing in all at once. Your face, lit up with joy. The way your eyes sparkled when you teased him. The warmth of your skin brushing against his arm, unintentional but electric.
The sound of your laughter—it was a melody he hadn’t realized he’d been desperate to hear again.
It felt like someone struck him with a tuning fork, the vibrations resonating deep in his chest. For a moment, Katsuki forgot how to breathe.
“Sorry about that,” you said, still catching your breath. “My neighbor’s kid tripped over her homework and knocked over a chair. They’re fine, don’t worry.”
He tried to focus on your words, but his mind was swimming, his grip on the phone clammy.
“You still there, Katsuki?”
Even the way you said his name was so—
“Yeah,” he managed, his voice rough. He cleared his throat, hoping you didn’t notice.
“I'm still here.”
“Good,” you said softly, and he could almost hear the smile in your voice.
“So… ramen? Tomorrow?”
He swallowed hard, the warmth of your laughter still lingering in his chest.
Katsuki closes his eyes, and for a moment, he can feel your warmth as you wrap your arms around him, your soft lips by his ear, legs around his waist, and the beat of your heart matching that of his own.
“I’ll be there.”
How do we feel about a part 2 chat?
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