#and sometimes it makes them want to go back to Japan and never come back here

[doberbutts]

If I had a nickel for every time I helped a Japanese client at my job, and in helping revealed that I speak [some, limited] Japanese, and in doing so their entire demeanor changed and they began to smile and gesture excitedly as we had a [relatively short] conversation in Japanese, I'd have two nickels.

Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Isagi Yoichi, the hero of Japan and biggest egoist on the field, being a complete loser when it comes to the girl he likes.

Like, he may insult the opposing team's players (and even his own teammates sometimes!) in the field, but gets all red and stutters when he needs to talk to you.

Isagi Yoichi who is absolutely delusional. If he holds a conversation with you for more than 5 minutes, you can bet he's gonna think about it during THE WHOLE WEEK. His friends can't escape his feelings either: he's always talking about you or associating things with you. Like: "Oh, she would like this!" Or "You guys won't believe it: we talked for almost 10 minutes today!" Please save Hiori and Bachira. They can't take it anymore. (Well, Bachira doesn't really care, but Hiori is really almost losing his shit.)

This absolute dork would listen to love songs while thinking about you and then get all blushy after, hugging a pillow while stuffing his red face on it and everything. And heaven forbids anyone enters his room after you compliment him! He's kicking his feet, screaming, crying and laughing all at the same time. SPECIALLY if it's a compliment regarding his football abilities. Say something along the lines of "That goal today was amazing, Yoichi! It was such a smart play!" and he's melting and thinking about it through the whole month.

Speaking of football, he'd LOVE to see you in his soccer games/practices cheering loudly for him. I mean, he's already absolutely smitten for you, but seeing you there screaming because of his goal or smiling because of a play he made just makes his obsession love for you grow 10 times bigger!!

He'd even ask his mom for advice on what to say to you! She thinks it's cute her little boy is growing up (even though he's already 17), so she tries to help him the best she can. But there's just so much mama can do. He tries to follow her teachings, but, as I said before, always stutters and trips over his words, which makes him feel really stupid and almost give up on love, since it's a "very hard and painful feeling that just hurts people" (his words).

When he finally musters up the courage to ask you out on a date (after a lot of insistence from Hiori, who is just really tired from all of this), he wants it all to go perfect. He has it all pictured in his head: he'll ask you to meet him in the back of the school after extracurricular activities so he can ask you out. He'll have flowers and everything, and then he'll say that speech he spent the last 14 days memorizing. You'll say yes with a smile in you face (he's already blushing just from imagining your smile, he really is down bad) and then you'll live your happilly ever after together.

Spoiler alert: nothing went as planned. First, the letter he wrote asking you to meet him in the back of the school got wet because he accidentally spilt water on it. So, he had to make a half-assed substitute letter to put in your desk.

Second, he forgot soccer leaves people all stinky. So, at the end of practice, he had to choose between taking a shower and showing up all drenched and late and showing up sweaty and smelly. He choose the former, after all, showing up late but presentable is better than showing up early but looking like you got shit on by a racoon.

Third, when he finally got there (you were almost leaving, thank God he caught you just in time!) and apologized for being late, he gave you the flowers. He thought nothing else could go wrong, but things can always get worse than they already are. But I don't blame him for not knowing that things could, in fact, get worse: how was he supposed to guess there were literally bees in the flowers? To get rid of them, he tried to shook the bouquet, but accidentally ended up throwing it at your face. With bees and all.

You screamed. He screamed. He grabbed the bouquet and shoved it away, looking at the ground and wishing it'd just swallow him whole. He messed up his chance, you'd never ever even look at his way again. You hated him, absolutely hated him. You wish he was dead, you were going to change schools just to never see him again, he's the worse person ever-

Huh? What is that sound? You're laughing...? You're seriously laughing?

You laughed. He got confused.

He looked up. You were throwing your head back while wiping away the tears that got out of your eyes. You were clutching your stomach because you were laughing so hard it was starting to hurt.

You laughed. He laughed.

You both looked like maniacs. Lunatics. Laughing alone in the middle of nowhere. You looked crazy he WAS crazy. Crazy for you. Not that you knew it at that time

He then decided to just shoot his shot and finally asked you out, without flowers or memorized speech. He didn't even think you'd accept, he just thought it wouldn't hurt to try.

Imagine his face when you said yes. Even with the shitty proposal and embarassing moments, you said yes. And he was absolutely delighted. You gave him your number so he could text you the details about the date, and he was seriously shaking. I'm being for real, his pupils were blown wide and he was almost crying from happiness.

He went home jumping and skipping from happiness. Now, he wasn't just a loser. He was a loser with a date, so that makes him less loserly (at least that's what he thinks).

You accepting his proposal didn't make him talk less about you. Actually, he was now talking about you more than before, if it's even possible. Hiori felt like killing himself (he was happy for his friend, of course, he just didn't want to admit it).

This fic has a "sequel", it's this one

Masterlist

[peachversace]

fashion killa

chapter two ; and fall into you

[nsfw] — smut (18+) ; bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 20,014 — read on ao3 — read part one on tumblr

tags: strangers to lovers, friends with benefits, pro hero bakugou katsuki, explicit language & sexual content, aged-up characters, porn with plot, model!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, bakugou is a soft yearning idiot who i want to eat up, kirishima eijirou is a good friend, not beta read!

summary:

Fashion Week was supposed to be simple-walk the runway, collect your check, and, if all went according to plan, spend the night with Pro Hero Dynamight. Just a little fun. Nothing more. But getting rid of Bakugou Katsuki proves to be harder than slipping out of a too-tight sample size.

Or, in which a one-night stand with one of Japan's most famous men turns into a relentless game of cat and mouse-and the worst part? You don't hate it.

notes:

the final chapter is here! thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter—it really means a lot to me. this was supposed to go up on sunday, but i didn’t like the ending, so i changed it last minute lol. i hope you guys like it and that it lives up to your expectations. thank you in advance, and happy reading!

enjoy! :D

Things get stranger after that night, but not in a way you could have anticipated. 

You and Katsuki seem to grow closer, slipping into each other’s lives with an ease that feels both natural and unsettling. It's not what you expected. You thought things would stay casual. But there’s a shift now—something in the way you reach for your phone more often, his name lighting up the screen with more frequency.

It starts with simple things. He calls you more, which surprises you because Katsuki’s never been one for chit-chat, but his voice on the other end of the line feels steady, grounding. You catch yourself waiting for those calls, anticipating the sound of his gruff voice grumbling about some villain he had to deal with or asking how your day went. It's not just calls either. Texts come in, pictures too. You send him photos of you in a photoshoot, all glammed up in haute couture, and he replies with short, dry comments, ‘Looking good,’ or ‘Too fancy.’ But you can tell he's looking, really looking. You send pictures from the gym, hair tied back, sweat glistening on your skin. And in return, Katsuki sends you his own pictures. They’re blurry sometimes, like he doesn’t know how to properly frame a shot, and he always scowls in them, half his face obscured. 

He grumbles, “Ain’t good at this photo crap,” but you can see the effort. It’s adorable, especially when he sends you pictures from bed, messy hair and bare chest, a hint of vulnerability in the way the camera captures him. You wonder if he realizes how soft he looks.

You start spending more time together too—more than you’d planned for. It’s not always about the sex now, though that’s still a big part of it. But there’s a sweetness in how you share space. Sometimes, it’s cooking together, and he’ll stand beside you, watching your every move with that sharp focus he has for everything. Other times, it’s movies, the two of you sprawled out on the couch, his arm slung lazily over your shoulders. Katsuki’s not great with words, not in the way some people are, but he doesn’t need to be. His actions speak for him—whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable or tossing a blanket over you when you doze off mid-movie.

The softness between you is unexpected. You’ve seen his gruff, explosive exterior, the way the media paints him as some sort of untouchable force. But here, with you, he’s different. He’s cuddly, something you never would’ve expected from him. He pulls you close without hesitation, his arms firm and warm, always keeping you near. You don’t question it, but it throws you off. This wasn’t what you signed up for—this quiet intimacy that feels more like a relationship than something casual. He’s not supposed to be so sweet, so soft.

One thing that surprises you most is how much he enjoys taking pictures with you. 

You’d never have guessed the gruff, no-nonsense Pro Hero would indulge in such a thing, especially when he’s always grumbling about media shoots and press. But when you’re in one of his hoodies, and you tug him down to take a selfie, your hand gently curling around his jaw, he leans in without protest. There’s this small, content smile that tugs at his lips—subtle but real, and it lights up his face in a way that makes your heart skip. You snap the picture, and he’ll grumble, “Didn’t ask for this,” but you catch him later, zooming in on the photo, his thumb lingering over the screen. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks at the two of you together.

He’s not one for skincare, either, but when you do face masks or anything remotely involving pampering, he sits there and lets you do it, his face a picture of calm contentment. His quirk may have blessed him with great skin, but he indulges you, letting you push his wild hair back with a fluffy headband, revealing his sharp features. You prep his face, and he just watches you with half-lidded eyes, relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before. He doesn’t even protest when you lean down and kiss him in the middle of it, his lips curving into a small, lazy smile. It’s cute how unbothered he is, how he lets you do whatever you want to him.

You’ve gotten more comfortable with each other in general.

More touching, more kissing, and sex has become something deeper. It’s no longer just an outlet, no longer just physical. It’s a way for the two of you to connect, to be closer. There’s a vulnerability in how he touches you, how his hands roam your body with a quiet reverence. When he presses against you, his skin flush against yours, you feel it—the way his guard drops, the way he lets himself need you in those moments. Your head will fall back, and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, his mouth warm and insistent, before his firm hand finds your face, guiding you back to him for another kiss. You feel like you’re floating in those moments, lost in the press of his body, the sound of his voice, and the way he holds you as if you’re something precious.

One night, after several rounds of unraveling each other, Katsuki does something he’s never done before—he opens up. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as he starts to talk about the Final War. You weren’t prepared for the weight of it. He tells you about being sent to the frontlines as a child soldier, about how his heart ruptured, the physical agony and the fear that came with it. His right arm, crushed beyond recognition, left him scarred—inside and out. He talks about rehab, about how long it took him to get his arm functioning again. 

And then, in a softer tone, he admits something that surprises you: “I still wanna be number one... but I’m content, y’know? With where I’m at right now.”

You’re lying beside him, his hand heavy on your waist, and you look up at him. His face is dimly lit, and there’s a vulnerability in his expression that makes your heart twist. “I think you’re amazing,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure, your fingers reaching up to gently curl around his jaw, pulling him down for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, and when you pull away, his cheeks are flushed, a faint pink creeping across his skin.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, embarrassed, but you can see the small, content smile tugging at his lips again, the same one he gives you in those quiet moments when his guard is down.

You smile back, your heart swelling in your chest as you kiss him again. There’s a softness to this moment, to him, and it feels like something has shifted between you. Something you can’t quite put into words yet, but it’s there, lingering in the air, unspoken but undeniable. 

But then there’s a pause, a hesitation. Katsuki’s expression changes, and when he speaks again, it’s quieter. "You’re the one that’s amazin'," he repeats, his voice low, almost like he’s afraid to say it too loudly. The way his words hang between you makes your heart do a strange little flip. You can feel the weight of them. 

You tilt your head slightly, giving him a teasing smile to ease the tension. "What, for walking in 120 mm heels or for letting you do facemasks with me?" you whisper, fingers brushing the scar on his cheek, tracing the jagged line that’s become so familiar to you now. 

He huffs, but there’s a flicker of something more behind his eyes. "Nah," he says, shaking his head. "For bein’ you. For workin’ hard as hell, doin’ all this stuff, and still bein’ able to… to put up with me."

The words hit you harder than you expect. You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You hadn’t realized he saw it that way—like he was a burden, like being with him was something difficult to endure. There’s a vulnerability in the way he avoids your gaze, his usual cocky demeanor gone, leaving just Katsuki—raw and exposed in front of you.

"You’re making it sound like I’m putting up with someone from hell," you say, your voice softer now, trying to coax his eyes back to yours.

He grumbles again, that same frustrated sound, but he still doesn’t look at you, and that’s when you realize just how much he doubts himself. How much he carries with him—his past, his insecurities, the weight of being a Pro Hero. And for the first time, you see how deeply it cuts him, how much he worries that he’s too much for anyone to handle.

"Hey," you whisper, your hand gently guiding his face back to you. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and his eyes, reluctant at first, finally meet yours. "I like putting up with you. You always think so bad about yourself. Stop doing that. Sometimes people just want to be around you, to spend time with you. It’s not weird, and I like spending time with you."

Katsuki’s cheeks flare up with a faint blush, his ears turning a little red at your words. He scoffs again, the sound almost automatic, like he’s trying to shake off the embarrassment. "You’re fuckin’ clingy," he mutters, but the bite in his tone is weak. His eyes flicker with something softer, something grateful.

You grin at him, laughter bubbling up in your chest. "Says the man that’s clinging to me like glue." You lean up on your elbow a little, your smile widening. "I have the pictures to prove it, by the way."

Before you can react, he’s turning his head and biting lightly at your fingers where they rest on his jaw, his teeth just grazing your skin in a teasing nip. It sends a small jolt through you, and you laugh softly, falling back into the pillows, your chest rising and falling with quiet giggles as you look up at him.

Katsuki’s grinning now, a real grin that lights up his face, his usual intensity tempered with affection. He leans down closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you can feel the way his body relaxes against yours. There’s no distance between you—no walls, no masks. Just you and him, sharing the space in a way that feels... real.

"What?" you whisper, still smiling as you reach up to smooth a hand through his messy hair. "Is my skin glowing or something?"

Katsuki scoffs lightly at your teasing, though there’s a small tug of a smile at the corner of his lips. His crimson eyes stay locked on yours, searching your face with an intensity that always makes your heart race. The heat of his body radiates against you, and even though you’re joking, there’s a flicker of something deeper in the way he holds your gaze, something vulnerable he’s still not used to sharing. 

"Yeah, sure, your skin’s glowin’," he mutters, his voice rough but soft, leaning down closer. "From all those dumb facemasks you make me do." His lips brush your temple, but the grin on his face betrays his usual gruffness.

You laugh, a light sound that melts between the two of you in the dimly lit room. "Dumb facemasks that you enjoy way too much," you fire back, playfully nudging him. "Don’t think I don’t notice how relaxed you get."

He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, but there’s no real bite behind it. His hand, rough from years of hero work, trails absentmindedly along your side, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, sending tiny shivers down your spine. His touch is softer than you ever expected when you first got involved with him, but now it’s familiar—comforting in its warmth and weight.

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, the usual fire in them dimmed into something warmer, more intimate. "Maybe," he mutters, his voice low. "But I like you better without all that makeup anyway."

The simplicity of the statement, the raw honesty of it, makes your heart squeeze. You let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly as you press a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away, his forehead resting against yours.

There’s a stillness in the room now, a sense of peace that settles between the two of you. It feels like the world outside doesn’t exist, like all the noise and chaos of your lives as pro heroes and public figures has melted away. In this moment, it’s just you and Katsuki—no expectations, no pressure. Just the quiet, simple warmth of being together. 

"You're an idiot," you whisper playfully, breaking the silence as you tap his chest lightly, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. 

"Yeah," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin as he presses another soft kiss to your forehead. "Guess I am for you."

Katsuki's words make your heart skip a beat, and you have to bite your lip to stop the smile threatening to break through. The way he says it—so casually yet so earnestly—makes warmth bloom in your chest. You’re not used to this side of him, this softness that he reserves just for you.

“What are your plans tomorrow?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace between you.

You think for a moment before replying, "Well… I have Pilates in the morning, and then I’m getting my nails done. Do you have any suggestions?" You stretch your arms lazily above your head, watching him with a playful glint in your eye.

Katsuki shrugs, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh as your fingers instinctively move to scratch his scalp. The sound he makes in response—a low, content rumble—reminds you of a cat purring, and it makes you smile. He presses a kiss to your cheek, his lips warm against your skin, before mumbling, “Dunno. Whatever makes you feel good.”

You grin, already knowing what will get a reaction out of him. “So if it’s an ugly purple color, you’ll be okay with it?”

As expected, he makes a face, his brows furrowing in clear disapproval. The corner of your mouth twitches in amusement as you roll your eyes. "Don’t worry, I’ll probably go for a nude pink," you murmur, leaning in to nuzzle your nose against his. The closeness between you feels so natural now, like a second skin. "And then I have a meeting with my agent about being a brand ambassador for an upcoming label, but I’m still thinking about it. That’s all."

He hums, a low sound of acknowledgment vibrating through his chest, and then you return the question. "What about you?"

"Got the day off," he says after a beat, his voice a little hesitant as if he’s testing the waters. "Thought… thought maybe I’d cook for ya or somethin’." His fingers brush against your lower back, the warmth of his touch drawing you even closer. It’s so subtle, the way he pulls you in, but it feels like he’s trying to close any remaining distance between your bodies. "Make ya those sushi rolls you liked. The ones you had in the US."

The way he remembers something so small, something you mentioned offhandedly during a trip, makes your breath hitch slightly. It’s not just the gesture itself—it’s the meaning behind it. How vulnerable and open he’s become with you, how he always wants to do things for you, to make sure you’re comfortable. His actions say what his words sometimes struggle to—how much he cares, even if he’s not always good at expressing it.

You swallow, the emotions swirling inside you making your chest feel tight in the best way possible. "You don’t have to do all that, Katsuki," you say softly, your fingers tracing small circles along his shoulder, feeling the strength and warmth beneath his skin. "But I’d love it. You know I’d never say no to your cooking."

He grumbles, his usual tough exterior showing through even in moments like this. "Yeah, well, don’t expect it all the time," he mutters, but the way his fingers tighten slightly on your back tells you he’s already looking forward to it. He likes taking care of you, even if he’ll never admit it outright.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for a moment. His skin is warm, and the simple act of affection makes him relax even more against you, like he’s letting go of something heavy he’s been holding on to. 

"I’m looking forward to it," you whisper, and the sincerity in your voice seems to catch him off guard. He looks up at you, his usual sharp gaze softened by the quiet intimacy of the moment. There’s something vulnerable in his eyes, something that makes your heart ache in a way that’s both beautiful and terrifying. 

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough but tender. "Me too."

And in that moment, with the quiet warmth of the room surrounding you, it feels like everything is exactly as it should be. The casual arrangement you once had has blurred into something deeper, something more profound. You can feel it in the way he holds you, in the way he speaks to you, in the way he cares for you. 

You never expected this to happen, but now that it has, you’re not sure you want it to stop. Katsuki has wormed his way into your life in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and it scares you, just a little. 

But when he’s this close, when his touch is this gentle, and when his words are this soft, it’s hard to imagine ever wanting to let him go.

It’s like stepping into a high-end restaurant when you walk into Katsuki’s apartment the next day, after finishing up your schedule. 

The moment you enter, the smell of freshly prepared food hits your senses, and the sight of the spread on the dining table takes your breath away. He’s really gone all out—sashimi platters laid out beautifully, with slices of the freshest fish you’ve ever seen; multiple types of sushi from nigiri to uramaki and temaki, each piece looking meticulously crafted. The fried dishes, like ebi furai and karaage, are golden and crisp, making your mouth water at the sight of them.

It’s a lot. More than you ever expected from him, especially after how shy he seemed about cooking this for you. 

But what really catches your attention isn’t the food—it’s the bouquet of flowers sitting at your usual seat.

Your breath hitches as you step closer, reaching out to touch the delicate petals. The bouquet is a stunning mix of roses, lilies, orchids, and carnations, all in varying shades of pink. The arrangement is soft but vibrant, delicate yet full of life, and you can’t help but be completely charmed by the gesture. You pick it up carefully, the scent of the flowers filling the air as you lift the bouquet closer to your face. The blend of colors is beautiful, and it makes your heart flutter.

With the bouquet in hand, you turn to look at him, your expression softening into a teasing but warm smile. "Flowers, huh?" you murmur, your voice light with affection, though there’s an underlying sense of surprise too. You’d never thought Katsuki would go this far, to do something so thoughtful and gentle.

Katsuki stands a few feet away, looking a bit out of his element, his usual confidence slightly faltering. He’s rubbing the back of his neck, a telltale sign of his discomfort with this kind of vulnerable gesture. His eyes flick to the flowers in your hands, and then back to you. His mouth twitches like he’s about to say something, and after a beat, he murmurs, almost bashfully, “It’s the same color as your nails.”

You blink, and then you realize—he’s right. The delicate pink flowers are nearly an exact match for the nude-pink shade you’d mentioned getting done at the nail salon earlier that morning. It’s such a small detail, something you didn’t even think he’d remember, let alone match. It’s thoughtful in a way that makes your chest tighten and your heart swell.

You think you might just melt right there. He’s always been sweet in his own gruff, awkward way, but this? This feels different. This feels like he’s trying to show you something more, to express something he doesn’t have the words for.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, your voice a little breathless as you take a step toward him, the bouquet still in your hands. You want to say something else, to tease him maybe, but the lump in your throat won’t let you. Instead, you just stare at him, feeling the warmth in your chest grow, spreading like wildfire.

He looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, his lips curling into a small scowl. But there’s no bite behind it. If anything, he just looks a little embarrassed. “Don’t make a big deal outta it,” he grumbles, though the way his eyes flicker back to yours betrays his nerves.

But you can’t help it. How can you not make a big deal out of it? He went through all this trouble just to match a detail as small as your nails with the flowers he picked. He cooked an entire feast for you, filled with dishes you love. And all of it—all of it—is done with the kind of care and thoughtfulness that makes your heart ache in the best way.

You set the flowers down gently on the table and step closer to him, your hands reaching for his. You feel the callouses on his fingers as you intertwine them with yours, and he stiffens slightly before relaxing, allowing you to pull him closer. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you whisper, your voice soft and tender. “But I love it. I love everything. Thank you.”

Katsuki’s gaze flickers down to your hands, then back up to your face, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out how to respond. He shifts his weight, looking uncharacteristically shy. “S’nothin’. Just wanted to do somethin’ nice.”

Your smile grows, and you can’t resist the urge to stand on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin flushes under your touch, and you feel the way he holds his breath for a second before he relaxes. “Well, it means a lot to me,” you murmur against his skin, your lips lingering just a little longer than necessary.

When you pull back, his gaze locks onto yours, and there’s a softness in his eyes you don’t often get to see. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the world feeling a little smaller, a little more intimate. The bouquet, the dinner, the way he remembered something as small as the color of your nails—it all feels like more than just casual affection. It feels like he’s slowly, hesitantly opening himself up to you in ways he’s never done before.

And it makes your heart race.

“Now, come on,” you say, breaking the silence with a grin as you tug him toward the table. “Let’s eat before this masterpiece gets cold.”

He huffs, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Sit down already.”

As you take your seat, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Katsuki takes his seat across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just sit there, surrounded by the feast he’s prepared. There’s a warmth in the air, a sense of quiet happiness that lingers between you.

And as you pick up your chopsticks and dig into the meal he made just for you, you realize that whatever this is between the two of you, it’s something more than you ever could have imagined. Something real. Something that’s growing in ways neither of you expected.

That night feels like a memory already etched into your soul, a moment you know you’ll never forget. 

The signs were all there from the start—the flowers, the dinner, the shy glances exchanged between the two of you over the table. There was a softness in the way you spoke to each other, a quiet warmth that lingered in the air, charged with something more than just affection. 

It was inevitable, the way the night would unfold.

Now, the room is filled with nothing but the quiet creaking of the bed, the sound of skin meeting skin, and the breathless, intimate sounds you and Katsuki make together. Your hands grip the pillow beneath your head as his strong hands hold your thighs, keeping them folded around his hips. He moves with a steady, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. There’s something deeper in the way he touches you tonight—something tender and almost reverent.

Through the haze of pleasure, your eyes blink up at him, catching the intensity of his gaze. It’s overwhelming, the way his molten eyes lock onto yours, filled with an emotion so raw it almost makes your chest ache. You can’t help but tug him closer, wanting to feel his warmth, his skin against yours. He obliges, his forearms coming to rest on either side of your head, bracketing you in. Your legs instinctively tighten around his waist, your ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him even closer.

“Katsuki,” you gasp, the word slipping from your lips in a whisper. It’s a plea, a confession, everything wrapped in one. He answers you not with words but with a kiss—soft, slow, and wet. His lips press against yours with a tenderness that belies the strength of his body, and it makes you shiver with how gentle he’s being. There’s something different in the way he’s moving, like he’s trying to tell you something he can’t quite put into words.

Then, his voice breaks the silence, low and vulnerable. “Say my name,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck.

The need in his voice makes your heart stutter. You feel his vulnerability, the rawness of him asking for something so simple, yet so important. So you do—you say his name over and over, like a mantra. “Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki…” Each word is punctuated by a kiss, your lips brushing against his in fleeting touches. His name feels sacred on your tongue, like it’s the only thing that matters in this moment.

His eyes darken, flecks of gold and violet swirling in the molten depths of his gaze. It’s like he’s seeing straight through you, into the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel bare, exposed. But in the best way. You’re not just giving yourself to him; you’re sharing something far more intimate, something unspoken but understood. The two of you are drowning in each other—in the kisses, the warmth of your skin pressed together, the way he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

He’s exploded you, just like his quirk, and in his touch, you feel like fireworks—bright, burning, alive. Every time he moves, you feel like you’re breaking apart in the best way, only to come back together, more whole than before.

And then, Katsuki slows his movements, like he’s trying to savor every second of this. His thrusts become deep, deliberate, each one dragging out the moment as if he never wants it to end. There’s something reverent about it, like he’s worshipping you, wanting to memorize the way you feel, the way your body responds to him. It’s so intense, so real, that it almost overwhelms you. 

You can’t help but moan softly, your body arching into his as he moves within you. The sensation is slow, building like a crescendo, and you feel like you’re on the edge of something greater than either of you. You’re not just feeling pleasure—this is something deeper. His touch, his kiss, the way he holds you, it all makes you feel like you’ve become something otherworldly, like a star burning brightly in the night sky.

His lips brush against your ear, and in the quiet between breaths, you hear him whisper, “You’re incredible.” The words are hushed, almost like a secret, but they hit you hard, sinking deep into your heart. He’s never been great with words, but in this moment, he doesn’t need to be. The way he touches you, the way he holds you, speaks volumes.

And just like that, you feel yourself slipping, falling into that blissful oblivion, with Katsuki right there with you. The world outside disappears, and all that exists is this—the two of you, tangled together, lost in the feeling of each other. Time slows, the space between each breath stretches, and for a moment, it feels like you’re not just two people anymore. You’ve become something greater, something inseparable, something you never want to let go of. 

As the two of you finally find release, together, it feels like the stars themselves have exploded inside of you, leaving you breathless, weightless, and utterly content.

It’s close to dawn, and the first hints of light peek through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room. 

You’re completely spent, bodies tangled together, exhausted after countless rounds of pleasure, yet it’s not just the physicality that keeps you close. It’s the warmth of his touch, the familiarity of it, the way his body instinctively presses against yours. Katsuki is holding you like you’re something precious, his lips brushing over your skin—your jaw, your neck, your shoulders—leaving behind tender kisses in his wake. His hands glide over your hips, your stomach, your thighs, tracing your curves with a gentle reverence that makes your breath hitch. There’s something so intimate in the way he touches you now, not just as a lover, but as someone who’s cherishing every moment.

You nuzzle closer, your head resting against his muscular bicep, pressing a soft kiss to it with a smile. His warmth surrounds you, and you can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes. The silence between you is comfortable, peaceful, only filled with the sound of your shared breaths and the occasional rustling of the sheets.

In a teasing, hushed tone, you break the stillness, “You never told me what you think of my nails.” 

Katsuki huffs a quiet laugh against your cheek, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Idiot,” he mumbles, the insult carrying no real bite. His teeth sink into your skin teasingly, making you let out a startled squeak, but you laugh when you feel his lips press a soft kiss in the same spot. His voice is a little rough, but warm as he admits, “They look good.”

You smile at his response, feeling the warmth of his approval as it spreads through you. “Good,” you whisper back, your voice soft in the quiet room. You let the moment drift into comfortable silence once again, enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to him, his body still pressed to yours. The bed shifts slightly as you both move, adjusting your positions to be closer, your limbs lazily draped over each other.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, cutting through the silence, and you instinctively reach for it. You scroll through a few messages before opening the camera, catching your reflection on the screen. There’s a faint flush to your cheeks, and you can see the small marks he left on your skin—little love bites trailing down to your collarbone, proof of the night’s passion. You look at yourself, and you can’t help but smile.

You’re glowing.

Before you can dwell on it, Katsuki shifts beside you, slowly leaning in to rest his head against yours, his weight a comforting presence. Your smile softens as you press the button on the camera, capturing the two of you in the frame. He doesn’t protest—he never really does when you take pictures anymore—and there’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet contentment that’s so different from the sharp, hardened persona he shows the world. Here, with you, he’s just Katsuki, sleepy-eyed and tender, his face relaxed in a way that makes your heart swell.

You click on the video option, and still, he says nothing, just watches as you record. He leans further into you, his body language loose and easy, completely at peace in your presence. You lift your hand to his jaw, gently scratching at the stubble growing there, and he blinks lazily, his eyes half-lidded as he leans into your touch. His vulnerability is on full display, and it’s something so personal, so special, that it makes your chest tighten with affection.

Without thinking, you turn your head and press a soft kiss to his lips. He lets you, meeting your kiss with a slow, sleepy response, his lips warm and slightly chapped. The kiss is tender, and when you pull away, it leaves behind a small, wet sound that makes you smile. You press another, quicker kiss to his lips before glancing back at the camera, capturing the quiet intimacy of the moment. 

On the screen, you see him with that small, almost shy smile curling at the corners of his lips. It’s a rare expression, one that he only seems to show when he’s with you, and it makes your heart flutter. There’s no mask here, no front, just him—content, soft, and utterly at ease with you.

And in that moment, you realize how deeply you’ve both fallen into this. How much you’ve come to mean to one another. His presence feels like home, like something you’ve been missing all along. 

There’s something deeper here, something you didn’t expect, and now it feels terrifyingly real.

And that thought scares the hell out of you.

You avoid him after that night.

It’s dumb; it’s stupid; it’s insane, but after that night, the intimacy had shaken you to your core, and you’re not ready to deal with the weight of what that means. The soft way he touched you, the vulnerability in his voice when he asked you to call him by his name—those aren’t things that fit into your neat little box labeled casual. And you don’t want to face the fact that whatever this thing is between you and Katsuki, it stopped being casual a long time ago.

So, you pull away. You don’t call him, don’t text back as often, and when he tries to reach out, you tell him you’re busy. It’s not entirely a lie. Work is busy. You’ve been booked back-to-back with photoshoots for Vogue China, campaigns for Kintsugi and Chanel, and appearances for Tsukiyo. Haute Couture Week is just around the corner, and you’re drowning in preparations. 

But the truth is, it’s easier to hide behind your schedule than face the reality of what’s happening between you and Katsuki. You bury yourself in work, hoping the distance will clear your head, will give you time to sort out your feelings. Because you’re not sure what you want anymore. Do you still want something casual? Or has it become something more? You’re not ready to answer that question, not ready to confront the feelings that have begun to creep up on you.

And then, late one night, the consequences of your actions come knocking—literally.

It’s around one in the morning when there’s a knock at your door. The sound startles you, breaking the quiet of your apartment, and you instantly know who it is. You hesitate for a second, your heart racing as you walk over and pull the door open.

Katsuki stands there, still in his hero gear, covered in soot and sweat, fresh from patrol. His eyes are sharp, but there’s a softness in the way he looks at you—something like confusion, or maybe even hurt. He doesn’t waste any time.

“You avoidin’ me or somethin’?” His voice is gruff, but there’s a vulnerability in it, the kind that makes your chest tighten.

“No!” you blurt out, too quickly. Your voice sounds high, and you can’t even convince yourself. “No, I’ve just been... busy. You know how it is.”

He narrows his eyes, his expression hardening. “Busy, huh?”

You nod, trying to hold his gaze, but your heart is pounding in your ears. “Yeah. Work’s been crazy lately.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at you with that intense, unreadable look of his, and you feel the guilt crawling up your throat. You expect him to yell, to snap at you, but when he finally speaks, his voice is low, hesitant.

“Did I... do somethin’ wrong?”

The question hits you harder than you expect. You see the hurt in his eyes now, the way his jaw tightens, like he’s bracing for something. Your chest tightens, and you want to reach out, to reassure him, but you hesitate. You shake your head quickly. “No, Katsuki, you didn’t do anything. It’s... it’s not you, it’s me.”

His entire body tenses at your words, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

You take a step back, rubbing your arms nervously. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you say quietly, almost like you’re hoping he won’t hear you.

He takes a step closer, his voice firm, almost demanding. “Do what?”

You swallow, trying to find the right words, but they stick in your throat. “This... us. I wanted things to stay casual, you know? Casual but serious? But now... everything feels different… and I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship.”

He’s silent for a beat, his jaw clenching, his fists tightening at his sides. “So avoidin’ me was your solution?” His voice is sharp now, tinged with frustration and hurt. He’s not yelling, but his tone cuts through you.

“No, it’s not like that. I just didn’t know how to—”

“Didn’t know how to what?” He interrupts, his voice rising slightly, his eyes flashing. “Didn’t know how to tell me I’m just some fuckin’ fling to you?”

“No!” you shake your head desperately, stepping forward, but the words feel stuck, like no explanation is good enough. “It’s not like that, I just—”

“Then what?” His voice cracks, and for a moment, you see something raw in his expression. He lets out a shaky breath and takes a step back, his shoulders slumping as he runs a hand through his messy hair. The usual fire in his eyes dims, replaced with exhaustion—emotional exhaustion. He looks tired. Tired of fighting for you. “Y’know what? Whatever. Do whatever the hell you want.”

You freeze as he turns, his back to you, and walks toward the door. Your mouth opens to stop him, but no words come out. You watch helplessly as he reaches for the door handle, his movements slow and heavy, like he’s waiting for you to say something—anything. 

But you don’t. 

The door clicks shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening. 

You stand there, your heart pounding, staring at the empty space where he just stood. The weight of the conversation, of everything you didn’t say, settles in the pit of your stomach, and for the first time, you realize just how badly you’ve messed up. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way. But it does. And now, you’re left standing in the aftermath of your own avoidance, the silence of the room echoing with the absence of him.

And for the first time, you wonder if it’s too late to fix things.

────────────────────────

The weeks after your... breakup? Was it even that? You still don’t know how to label it, but whatever it was, it’s hard. It hurts more than you thought it would, more than you ever expected it could. You don’t cry easily, you’ve never been the type to fall apart over someone, but Katsuki—Bakugou—was different. His absence feels like a missing piece of your life, a hole that you can’t seem to fill no matter how much you try.

You find yourself crying at night, tears slipping down your cheeks as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s a quiet kind of crying, the kind where your chest aches and your throat tightens, but you don’t make a sound. It’s unexpected, this grief, this sense of loss. You hadn’t realized how much he meant to you until he wasn’t there anymore. Until the warmth of his presence, his gruff voice, his touch was gone, leaving you cold and hollow.

But you push through it. You force yourself to keep going, to focus on your work, because that’s what you do. You’ve always been good at throwing yourself into your career when things get hard, and this time is no different. Even if your heart feels like it’s been ripped out. Even if you feel like you’re walking around with this empty, aching space inside you. 

Even if it feels like... love.

But you don’t let yourself dwell on that thought. You shove it down, deep inside, where you don’t have to deal with it. Instead, you work. You focus on your job, on the constant demands of your schedule. Haute Couture Week in Paris comes quickly, and you’re on a plane before you even realize it, throwing yourself into the chaos of the fashion world.

Paris is as hectic and glamorous as always. You’re swept into a whirlwind of fittings, castings, and shows. You walk down runways draped in the most luxurious fabrics, you pose for countless photoshoots, you attend brand events where everyone looks perfect, where everyone seems to have it all together. On the surface, you look the part—you’re poised, composed, radiant. But inside, your thoughts are consumed with him.

Every time you stand still for more than a second, your mind drifts back to Katsuki. To the way he looked that night at your door, the hurt in his eyes, the way he walked away. You think about the nights you spent with him, about the softness in his touch that you hadn’t expected, about the way he kissed you with such intensity that it made you feel like you were the only person in the world. 

You miss the way he would scowl when he was embarrassed, the way he’d flick your forehead when you teased him, the way he’d grumble but still pull you closer when you were lying in bed together. You miss him, and no matter how much work you bury yourself in, that feeling doesn’t go away. 

And you do bury yourself in work. 

You walk runway after runway, your legs aching from the hours spent in heels. You attend fittings, standing perfectly still as designers adjust fabric on your body, their hands moving with practiced precision. You barely eat, following the strict diet that keeps you in shape for the shows, even when your stomach growls in protest. You push through photoshoot after photoshoot, your face a mask of calm professionalism even when your head feels like it’s going to burst from exhaustion.

By the time Haute Couture Week ends, you’re exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. But there’s no time to rest, no time to stop and process the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since that night with Katsuki. September is coming fast, and with it, the next fashion month. Castings have already started, and of course, you’re booked solid. Tsukiyo, Ryūmon, Dsquared2, Dior—they all want you, and you don’t have the luxury of slowing down.

You tell yourself that this is what you need. That keeping busy is good, that focusing on your career will help you forget. But late at night, when the city around you is quiet and your hotel room feels too big, too empty, you can’t stop your thoughts from drifting back to him. To the way he said your name, his voice rough but soft at the edges. To the way he held you close after everything, his hands gentle on your skin. To the way he looked at you, like you were more than just some casual fling, like you were something that mattered.

And that’s what scares you the most.

Because deep down, you know it was never just casual for him. You saw it in the way he touched you, in the way he let you call him by his first name, in the way he always made sure you were comfortable, that you were okay. You could feel it in the way he held you close, even when he didn’t say the words. Katsuki was serious about you, and that terrified you because you hadn’t let yourself believe that you could be serious about him too. 

But now, lying in your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling in the dim light, you wonder if maybe... maybe you were serious about him too. Maybe this wasn’t just some casual thing for you either. Maybe you let your fear get the best of you. Maybe you pushed him away because you were scared of what it meant to feel this way about someone.

Maybe... it’s too late to fix it.

You first meet Kirishima Eijirou at the brand event for Yūgen, a high-end luxury brand that’s slowly carving its name into the industry. 

The event is bathed in understated elegance, the kind that makes everything feel weightless, like an ethereal dream. The fragrance of Yūgen lingers in the air, soft but pervasive, the scent weaving in and out of your senses. It’s a haunting aroma—woody, floral, with a touch of something mysterious that stays with you long after you leave the room. The brand’s aesthetic mirrors that feeling, subtle craftsmanship and poetic beauty all wrapped in quiet luxury.

You’re wearing one of Yūgen’s finest designs: The Moonlit Silk Gown, a floor-length masterpiece in pearlescent ivory that moves like liquid moonlight against your skin. The cherry blossom embroidery is so delicate, it looks as though it might dissolve at any moment. The backless design leaves a trail of silk down your spine, each movement making you feel like a walking work of art, fragile but powerful. You look flawless—because you have to—but inside, you’re far from it. 

It’s been a long week. A long month, really. 

Physically, you’re exhausted. Every photoshoot, every runway, every campaign pulls energy from you in a way that leaves you hollow by the end of the day. But emotionally? That’s where the real toll is. It’s been weeks since you and Katsuki—Bakugou, you remind yourself, like a bad habit you need to kick—had your falling out, and despite throwing yourself into work, the ache hasn’t dulled. 

A vacation sounds tempting, but the thought of having time—time to rest, time to think—is too much. You don’t want to think. Not about what happened, not about the way you avoided him, not about the hurt in his eyes that still haunts you late at night. So you bury yourself in everything else—work, events, anything that keeps you moving forward without looking back.

The event is in full swing, and you’ve spent hours mingling, moving through the crowd like a ghost, smiling, nodding, talking to people whose faces blur together after a while. Celebrities, designers, businessmen, all wanting a piece of your attention. You’re good at it—the small talk, the easy charm, the graceful way you handle yourself. But by the time you finally find a moment to sit down, you feel like you’re about to collapse.

Your feet ache from the heels you’ve been wearing all night, sharp pains shooting through your legs with each step. Your head pounds from the constant hum of conversation, lights, and the weight of it all. You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself, to focus on anything other than the discomfort coursing through you. You consider finding an excuse to leave early, to escape the noise and the pressure, but before you can even act on it, a voice cuts through the noise around you.

“Hi, may I sit here for a moment?”

You blink, looking up, surprised to find a tall figure standing over you, smiling. It takes you a second to place him—Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Pro Hero Red Riot. 

He’s famous, one of the top heroes in the country, known for his kindness as much as his strength. You’ve heard about him before, mostly from Katsuki. Despite Bakugou’s endless grumbling about Shitty Hair this, Shitty Hair that, you could always tell there was a lot of affection there. Kirishima is one of Bakugou’s closest friends, a bond that goes back to their high school days. 

It’s odd, meeting one of Bakugou’s friends now, after everything that’s happened between you two. You’ve only met Kaminari and Ashido briefly, and that was back when things with Katsuki were... different. Now, you don’t know where you stand with him, let alone the people in his life. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Not after how things ended.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you say, forcing a polite smile. Your voice is steady, though inside, you feel the familiar tension creeping back up your spine. You watch as Kirishima sits down beside you, his broad frame filling the space with a kind of easy warmth. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, the fabric perfectly tailored to his muscular form. A golden chain hangs around his neck, catching the soft light of the room. 

He doesn’t feel overwhelming, though. Despite his large frame and the unmistakable air of strength he carries, Kirishima exudes a kind of gentleness that puts you at ease almost immediately. His presence is the complete opposite of the tension that’s been gnawing at you all night. 

“Long event, huh?” Kirishima says, his voice light, but there’s a genuine empathy in his tone. It’s the kind of voice that invites you to relax, to drop the mask you’ve been wearing all night.

You nod, offering him a tired smile. “Yeah. It’s been a long week, actually.”

He chuckles softly. “I bet. These things can be exhausting, even for someone like you.” His eyes flicker down to your gown, admiration clear in his gaze. “You look incredible, by the way. That dress... it’s something else.”

You let a tired smile curl around your lips. “Thanks,” you say softly, though the compliment feels weightless. You’ve been hearing it all evening, and the words don’t really touch you anymore. 

Kirishima smiles back, but his expression carries a hint of concern now. His easygoing demeanor is still there, but there’s something more perceptive in his gaze. 

There’s a pause, a moment of silence between the two of you, as the murmur of the event continues around you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to mind the quiet. “You seem overworked,” he says after a moment, his voice gentle but probing.

You shrug, taking a sip from the champagne in your hand. The bubbles fizzle, but even the sharp taste of alcohol does little to break through the numbness you’ve been carrying all night. “I am,” you admit.

He raises a brow, clearly concerned. “Why don’t you take a break then?”

The answer comes to you immediately, almost on instinct. “I don’t want to,” you say flatly. “Taking a break means having time for myself, and that’s the last thing I need right now. Plus, I can’t.” You gesture vaguely, feeling the weight of your schedule already pressing down on you. “Fashion Week is in two months, and my calendar’s already packed. There’s no time.”

Kirishima hums in understanding, but there’s something unsaid in the air between you. His gaze softens as he looks at you, clearly mulling over his next words. The silence stretches, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Bakugou—if Katsuki ever mentioned you to his friends. Did he talk about you? Did they know you were… something, once? The thought makes your heart flutter, but it’s quickly followed by the familiar ache. You feel a lump rise in your throat as you try to push it all down.

Before you can dwell on it further, Kirishima finally speaks. “You know, I have a friend,” he says, his tone casual but laced with something deeper. “He kind of reminds me of what you’re going through. Recently, he went through something… rough, and it’s been hard on him. He’s been burying himself in work, and honestly, he’s not the same as he used to be. Not as happy, not as... alive. Like, something’s missing, you know?”

Your breath hitches. You know where this is going, but you can’t stop yourself from listening, from feeling every word sink deeper.

“The funny thing is,” Kirishima continues, his voice softening, “he never really told us about it. We found out by accident, actually—one of our friends snooped through his phone and found a picture.” He chuckles lightly, but it’s a sad sound. “He was pissed, obviously, but he didn’t stay mad for long. I think it’s because back then, he was still happy. Whatever he had, it made him content. But then… things happened.”

He turns to look at you, and his smile is sympathetic, almost knowing. “I think you understand.”

Yeah. He definitely knows. 

The weight of his words settles in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You feel the guilt rise up, thick and choking, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. You don’t want to show just how much it’s affecting you. “I hope your friend is doing okay,” you manage, though your voice comes out quieter than you intended.

Kirishima shrugs, his eyes flickering with a sadness of their own. “He says he is, but… I know him. He’s not.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. It’s all your fault. You can feel it—deep down, you know it. You’ve hurt him, and now he’s suffering because of it. The thought makes your chest tighten painfully. “I bet that… something he had misses him, too,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe they didn’t realize how important he was until it was too late.”

Kirishima smiles, but it’s tinged with that same sadness. “Yeah. That’s usually how it goes, isn’t it? We don’t realize what we’ve lost until it’s gone.”

You let out a small, bitter chuckle, nodding in agreement. The weight of the truth in his words is almost unbearable. You didn’t realize. Not until it was too late. And now, you’re left with nothing but the hollow ache of what used to be.

Kirishima watches you carefully, as if weighing his next words. “But, you know,” he says after a pause, “my friend, for all his gruffness… he’s pretty forgiving. He’s changed a lot since we were kids. He’s softened, in his own way.”

Your heart stutters at his words. You feel the lump in your throat grow bigger, making it hard to breathe. “Do you…” You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Do you think he’d forgive that something? If they tried to make things right?”

Kirishima shrugs, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he looks at you. “I think he would. He misses them more than they probably realize. But… they won’t know unless they try.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and before you can say anything else, Kirishima stands up, offering you a kind smile. “It was nice talking to you. And hey, think about that vacation. It might be exactly what you need.”

You nod, too overwhelmed to say much in response, and watch as he walks away, his presence fading into the crowd.

The second he’s gone, your mind spins in a thousand directions. You sit still, your thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt, regret, and longing. You think about what Kirishima said—about Katsuki, about how he misses you, about how he might forgive you if you reached out.

Is it possible? Could he really forgive you? After everything?

Your heart races as you play the conversation over and over in your head, and slowly, a realization starts to settle in. You’ve been running from your feelings for weeks, but now… maybe it’s time to stop. 

Maybe it’s time to try. 

That’s when you make your decision. 

You’re done hiding; done avoiding the truth.

The commute to his apartment is hell. 

Everything that could go wrong, does. There’s an accident on the highway, forcing your driver to navigate the congested streets of Musutafu. The city is thick with humidity, and a summer storm has turned the streets into rivers. The rain pounds against the car windows relentlessly, and every drop seems to mock you, making you feel like the world itself is pushing back against this decision.

A few blocks from Katsuki’s apartment, the road is blocked by construction. Of course it is. Because, why wouldn’t it be? You’re so close, and the frustration bubbles up inside you until it spills over. Without thinking, you throw the door open and leap out of the car, pulling off your heels and clutching them in your hand. The rain immediately drenches you, soaking through the silk of your gown. 

But you run. Barefoot through the city streets, you run.

By the time you reach his building, you’re a sight—your silk dress clings to your skin, the once-elegant fabric now heavy and dripping, your hair plastered to your face. Your heels, still in your hand, are soaked through, and your feet slap against the slick pavement as you take the final steps to his door.

You knock, and it only takes a few moments before the door swings open. Katsuki stands in the doorway, his body immediately tensing as his gaze sweeps over you. His eyes go wide, and you can see the confusion—maybe even concern—flicker in them as he takes you in. 

You probably look like a drowned rat, soaking wet and panting from your sprint, but that’s not what gets to you. It’s him. It’s the way he looks. He’s tired. So tired. His eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, and the bags under them make it clear he hasn’t been sleeping. His broad shoulders are hunched, his usual fire subdued, and that alone breaks something inside of you. 

You did this to him.

“What the fuck—” he starts, his voice rough, but you cut him off before he can get any further.

“No. You listen to me.” You step forward, your heart hammering in your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps from your run. “I want to talk. I couldn’t do that last time.”

His mouth snaps shut, and he blinks, clearly thrown by the intensity in your voice. He nods, just slightly, a gesture so small that most people wouldn’t even notice it—but you do. He’s listening.

You take a breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside you, and then you begin. “I never meant to avoid you,” you say, voice shaky but determined. “I just… wasn’t ready to deal with the weight of what happened. I wasn’t ready to confront the feelings that you—” You swallow hard. “—the feelings you gave me.”

Katsuki’s eyes stay locked on yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the way he’s trying to keep himself calm, to hear you out.

“I always thought I wasn’t ready for a relationship,” you continue, feeling the words start to spill out faster, as if you need to get them out before you lose your nerve. “I thought I wanted something casual. But you… you changed that. You made me realize how wrong I was.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you force yourself to keep going. “I miss you. I miss you all the time. I miss your warmth, your kisses, the way you hold me close, the way you always make sure I’m comfortable, the way you’re grumpy but always so sweet… I miss everything about you.”

His breathing picks up, a faint hitch in his chest, and you notice the way his hands flex at his sides, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.

“You were never just a fling to me,” you say, your throat tightening with emotion. “And I’m sorry I made you feel like you were. I’m sorry for everything. I was scared, and I didn’t know what I wanted, but now I do. I want you.”

You see him stiffen at those words, his expression shifting, but you press on. You have to say it all, everything.

“Today… today made me realize just how stupid I’ve been,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know what I had until I lost you. And I’m—” You choke slightly on the words, but push through them. “I’m in love with you.”

He inhales sharply, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet hallway, but he doesn’t move. His eyes widen slightly, but you can’t stop now.

“I think about you all the time,” you continue, your voice shaking with every word. “I feel like such an idiot, because I had everything—you—and I screwed it up. I was scared, and I—I let you walk away, but I don’t want to make that mistake again. I want you, Katsuki. I’m choosing you.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you, each one carrying the weight of everything you've been too scared to admit, too scared to confront. The hallway is quiet, save for the sound of your uneven breathing and the faint drumming of rain against the building outside. Katsuki is still standing there, his broad frame taking up the entire doorway, but he's utterly still. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and unblinking, as if he's trying to process every single word you’ve just thrown at him. 

And you know Katsuki. 

You know him in ways most people don’t. He’s strong, stubborn, and often explosive, but beneath that tough exterior is a vulnerability that he hides from the world. He doesn’t let people in easily, not really. His sharp edges and brash attitude are a shield, a way to protect himself from the constant pressure, the overwhelming expectations. He’s used to people seeing him as a weapon, a force of nature. But never as something to be chosen—never as someone who could be the safe place for someone else.

So when you stand here, drenched in rain and raw emotion, telling him that you do choose him, that you’re in love with him, it shakes him to his core. You can see it in the way his breath catches, in the way his body tenses like he’s bracing for impact. His eyes, usually so full of fire, are now filled with disbelief, as if he’s trying to convince himself that this is real, that you're real.

His lips part slightly, but no words come out. It’s like he’s frozen, caught between wanting to say something and not knowing how to. Bakugou Katsuki, the man who always has something to say, who always knows how to react, is speechless. 

The silence stretches on, and with each passing second, your heart feels like it’s being squeezed tighter and tighter. You’ve laid everything out—your heart, your soul, your fears—and the silence in return feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightens, making it hard to breathe.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears finally start to spill over. You can’t stop them anymore. They fall freely now, mixing with the rain still dripping from your soaked hair and clinging to your skin. “Please.”

Katsuki’s eyes flicker, his jaw tightening as if he’s fighting some internal battle. He’s never been good with words—he’s never been good with feelings—and you can see how much he’s struggling right now. The vulnerability on his face is something you’ve only seen a handful of times, and it cuts through you like a knife. 

Finally, he exhales sharply, a sound that’s more like a growl than a breath, and he takes a step forward. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before he cups your face, his palm warm against your cold, rain-soaked skin. His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek, the gesture so uncharacteristically gentle for him that it makes your heart ache even more.

“You… fuckin’ idiot,” he mutters, his voice rough and thick with emotion. There’s no anger in his words, though—just a kind of raw frustration and something deeper, something more vulnerable. His crimson eyes are locked on yours, searching your face as if he’s trying to make sure this is real, that you’re not going to disappear on him again. “You think… you think I didn’t fuckin’ want this? That I didn’t want you?”

You blink up at him, the tears still blurring your vision. His voice is cracking in a way you’ve never heard before, and it hits you just how much this means to him. 

“I wanted you,” he says, his hand still cradling your face as he leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “Fuck… I still want you.” His voice is raw, the vulnerability bleeding through with every word. “But you…” He swallows hard, his other hand coming up to grip your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer. “You pushed me away. You made me think… I wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t worth shit to you.”

The pain in his voice is palpable, and it makes your chest ache in a way that feels almost unbearable. You shake your head, your own voice cracking as you try to get the words out. “No. No, Katsuki, that’s not—”

He cuts you off, his grip tightening just slightly, but not in a way that hurts. It’s like he’s holding on to you for dear life, afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear again. “You don’t get it,” he mutters, his breath hot against your skin. “No one… no one ever fuckin’ chooses me. Not like this. You think I didn’t want you to come after me? You think I didn’t want you to fight for me?”

His words hit you like a freight train, and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips. He’s right. You did push him away. You made him feel like he wasn’t worth it, like he didn’t matter as much as he should have. And now, seeing the pain in his eyes, hearing the hurt in his voice, it feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Katsuki. I was scared, and I didn’t know how to handle it, but I… I love you. I love you so much, and I don’t want to lose you again.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to find the truth in your words. Then, slowly, his expression softens, the hardness in his gaze melting away as he exhales a shaky breath. His thumb brushes over your cheek again, wiping away the fresh tears. 

“Shitty timing,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. In fact, there’s something almost tender in the way he says it, like he’s trying to hold on to his usual roughness, but it’s slipping through his fingers. 

You let out a shaky laugh, your tears still flowing, but now there’s a warmth building in your chest—hope, maybe. You can feel it in the way he’s holding you, in the way his body is slowly relaxing against yours. He still wants you. He still cares.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The rain continues to fall outside, the world around you moving on without care, but in this small space, it’s just the two of you. Just Katsuki and you, standing in the doorway of his apartment, soaked to the bone and hearts laid bare.

Finally, he pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace that leaves no space between you. His chin rests on top of your head, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his heart beats against yours. 

“Don’t run from me again,” he murmurs, his voice gruff but laced with something soft, something tender. “I won’t fuckin’ let you.” 

You nod against his chest, your arms wrapping around him as tightly as you can. “I won’t. I promise.” 

He’s warm and so familiar, and you pull away from the embrace slowly, your fingertips grazing the sharp edge of his jaw as if grounding yourself in the solidity of him. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and there’s a slight tremor in his breath, a vulnerability that only you get to see. With your hands framing his face, you look up into his eyes—those deep, crimson eyes that burn like embers in the dim light of the hallway—and you murmur, “I love you.”

The words are soft but sure, slipping from your lips like a secret, and they hang in the air between you, filling the space with something fragile yet undeniably real. Katsuki’s breath hitches, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that betrays the storm brewing inside him. His hands, which have always been rough, steady, and unyielding, now grip your waist gently, like he's afraid you might vanish if he holds too tightly.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he closes his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the weight of your confession settle inside him, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that you rarely get to see. It’s raw, unguarded, and it steals the air from your lungs. His head dips, and with a shuddering breath, he captures your lips with his own.

The kiss is tender, a slow unfolding of everything unsaid. It’s not rushed or frantic—it’s a return, a homecoming. It feels like stepping back onto familiar shores after being adrift for too long. His lips, warm and firm, taste of all the things you missed, of safety and fire, of passion restrained but not diminished. His kiss is like the first light of dawn breaking across the horizon, soft yet full of promise. It’s the summer sun that melts the tension from your bones, the serene hush of winter’s first snow, the gentle bloom of spring flowers, and the quiet fall of autumn leaves—all of it wrapped into one. A constant rhythm, pure and right, grounding you in the moment.

Before you realize it, he’s pulling you into his apartment, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. Your heels clatter to the floor in the genkan, forgotten as his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you with effortless grace. Your hands find their place again, cradling his jaw, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips seek yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. You’re weightless in his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he guides you down the familiar hallway, each step measured and deliberate, leading you toward the sanctuary of his bedroom.

The scent of him surrounds you, filling your senses—sharp and smoky, like burning embers, mixed with something inherently Katsuki. You missed this. You missed the way he feels against you, the steady pulse of his heartbeat as it thunders beneath his skin, the way his presence alone fills every corner of the space with warmth.

He lays you gently on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath your weight, and for a moment, he pulls back. The loss of his warmth is brief, but you feel it keenly until he’s tugging his shirt over his head, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, every scar etched into his skin like a map of battles won and lost. His body tells stories—of strength, of endurance, of survival—but all you see is the man who holds you now, the man who wears his heart hidden beneath layers of gruffness and fire.

Your hands move instinctively, tracing the familiar lines of his chest and shoulders. Your fingertips ghost over each scar, each ridge, as if memorizing him all over again. His skin is hot beneath your touch, and your hands curl around the back of his neck, pulling him back to you. His mouth meets yours once more, but this time the kiss is deeper, more urgent, the heat between you building with each passing second.

He welcomes you back like the dawn welcomes the night—slowly, but with an inevitability that feels like fate. His touch is reverent, as if you’re something sacred, something to be cherished. His hands, rough and calloused from years of combat, move with a surprising gentleness as they begin to peel the wet fabric of your dress away from your body. It clings to your skin, soaked through from the rain, but he is patient, his fingers working carefully, unwrapping you from the silk like a gift.

His touch is molten, a slow burn that spreads through you, lighting up every nerve. It’s like molasses—thick, slow, and deliberate—filling the space between you, pulling you deeper into the moment. Katsuki is fire, fierce and untamed, and in his hands, you feel like molten gold, soft and pliable, shaping yourself to the heat of his touch. He moves with purpose, his gaze never leaving yours as he strips away the last barrier between you, leaving you bare beneath him.

When he finally presses his body against yours, skin to skin, it feels like everything you’ve been missing. His warmth envelops you, his presence grounding you in a way that nothing else can. His hands roam over you, tracing every curve, every line, his fingers mapping out the soft planes of your body with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire that burns in his eyes.

There’s something unspoken between you now, something that doesn’t need words. His touch is a silent claim, his fingers skimming over the dips of your waist, the arch of your spine, the softness of your thighs. He knows every inch of you, and yet it feels new all over again, like he’s discovering you for the first time. His hands are steady, but there’s a quiet desperation in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid this moment might slip away if he lets go.

Katsuki’s breath is hot against your skin as he lowers himself down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down to the hollow of your throat, each one a promise, a vow. His touch is deliberate, a slow, deliberate worship of your body, as if he’s reminding you of everything you are, everything you mean to him. His hands glide over your hips, his fingers brushing the tender skin of your inner thighs, and you arch into him, your breath hitching as you feel the weight of his love in every movement, every touch.

In his arms, you are safe. In his arms, you are whole.

He is fire and strength, and you are his, claimed by the fierce heat that only he can bring. You are molten gold, shaped and refined in the crucible of his love, and together, you burn brighter than the stars.

His lips press against yours, fueled by a newfound hunger, a kind of urgency that pulls a gasp from your throat, a soft whimper that escapes into the space between you. His hands roam your body with a heated reverence, fingers tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips, until one hand dips lower, slipping between your legs. When his finger slides inside you, the sensation is immediate, raw—a sharp intake of breath echoes through him as he feels you clench around him. You’re so warm, so wet, and it sends a shudder down his spine.

You can feel the tremor in him, the restraint, the overwhelming desire bubbling beneath the surface as his forehead presses against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness of the room. Another deep pant leaves him as he moves his finger inside you, the motion making you arch into him, your body responding to him as if you were always meant to. But before you can even catch your breath, he pulls away, eyes burning with a fire that ignites something deep inside you, and in one swift motion, he’s pressing his hips against you, rutting the length of his cock against your slick heat.

His body trembles with restraint as he teases you, but soon enough, he can’t hold back. His hand grips your thigh, pulling you closer as he lines himself up, and then he slips inside you—slowly at first, the feeling of him stretching you, filling you, taking you inch by inch until he’s seated fully within you. The world stills, and for a brief moment, it’s just him and you—joined together as one, moving in a rhythm older than time itself.

It feels like floating—weightless, untethered, as if you’re both suspended in the space between worlds. He rolls his hips, a slow, rhythmic tide, and you meet him, each thrust a push and pull, the two of you locked in a quiet dance. It’s like the meeting of the sea and the bioluminescent sands, glowing with heat and light, each touch sparking something deep and primal within you.

You murmur his name, “Katsuki…” your voice breathless and needy, and he responds with a kiss, his lips soft but insistent as they claim yours. He thrusts into you, achingly gentle, his movements precise but tender, each one filled with care. His hips move steadily, his hands cradling your body as though you’re something delicate, something priceless. To him, you’re precious—a masterpiece he’s lucky enough to hold, a delicate thing that he handles with reverence. Every time he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are filled with something deeper than desire—something raw and unspoken, something that ties the two of you together in ways words never could. 

Your hands drift over the hard planes of his chest, tracing the scars that mark his skin—testaments to battles fought and won, to the life he’s lived. Your fingers explore the rough edges of his body, skimming over the taut muscles that ripple beneath his skin, and the stubble along his jaw that scratches lightly against your fingertips. Each touch is full of reverence, because to you, Katsuki isn’t just a work of art; he’s a force of nature. He’s beauty in its rawest form, an Adonis sculpted from lava and tempered by explosions. He’s the embodiment of power, but beneath it, you feel the vulnerability he only ever reveals to you.

Your hands continue to explore his body, memorizing every part of him. You thumb the scars along his shoulders, fingers dancing along the ridges of his abs, and as you do, you marvel at how someone so strong, so unyielding, can be so gentle, so loving. He moves inside you with reverence, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and heavy against your lips. His body presses down against yours, the heat of him sinking into your bones as he thrusts deeper, driving you further into the mattress. His movements are unhurried but deliberate, each one building on the last until the tension in your body coils tight. 

And then it snaps, the pleasure washing over you in waves, pulling you under as you come undone beneath him. His name is the only thing you can manage, whispered over and over like a mantra, like a promise, your hands clutching at him as though he’s the only thing anchoring you to this moment. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, not from sadness but from the overwhelming emotion of it all—of being with him like this, of feeling loved, cherished.

Katsuki follows you into that blissful fall, his own body trembling as he reaches his release. A broken moan escapes him, raw and guttural, his forehead pressing into the crook of your neck as he holds you close, his thrusts slowing to a stop. His breath is warm against your skin as he cups your cheeks, tilting your face toward him for a kiss that’s softer now, full of unspoken words and emotions too heavy to name.

When he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his eyes flicker open, and you see everything in them—gold, violet, amber, the brightest and most precious colors shimmering in the depths of his gaze. It’s as though he holds the universe within him, and all of it is focused on you. His lips brush against yours, the softest of touches, and he whispers in that deep, gravelly voice, “I love you too.”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, but they’re happy tears, and you blink them away as you smile. You press another kiss to his lips, your heart full, knowing that whatever happens next, you’ve found your way back to him. 

And that’s all that matters.

The aftermath is a world all its own—silent, untouched by the chaos that exists beyond the walls of his bedroom. 

Here, in the quiet glow of the moonlight, everything feels simple. The unspoken tension and complicated emotions that usually color the spaces between you seem to fade, leaving only this moment. It’s just you and Katsuki, wrapped up in each other, connected by something deeper than words could ever capture.

You’re cradled against him, his body solid and warm beneath you. His fingers trace slow, languid lines up and down your side, a repetitive, soothing motion that makes you feel grounded. Your own fingers mirror his, lazily drawing circles over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths under your touch. The scent of him—burnt caramel, cloves, sandalwood—wraps around you like a familiar blanket. It’s intoxicating and comforting, a part of him that feels so deeply etched into you now, as permanent as carvings on an ancient tree.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The stillness is sacred. But then, as if the weight of everything unsaid finds its way to your lips, you break the silence. "You know," you whisper, your voice soft as it brushes against the darkness, “today I realized that I deserve to take a break. To stop running away from everything.”

Katsuki’s fingers still for a moment on your skin, but then he leans down slightly, a silent acknowledgment that he’s listening. His hand rests at your hip, grounding you both.

“And… and you do too,” you continue, your voice growing a little stronger, though still fragile. "Your mom’s always on you about taking a vacation, right?" You feel his chest rise sharply beneath your head, his body stiffening just slightly. You take a shaky breath, pushing forward with the thought that’s been growing in your mind. “So… I booked two tickets. In the car. On my way here. To Indonesia. A luxury vacation. The plane leaves tomorrow morning.”

For a second, the world pauses. Katsuki freezes, his hand stopping mid-motion, his entire body going still as if he’s trying to process the words. Slowly, he leans up, propping himself on his elbows, his gaze searching your face with a mix of disbelief and confusion. His fingers find your chin, tipping your face toward him so your eyes meet. “You did what?” His voice is low, rough, not quite angry but edged with a bewilderment that you rarely see from him.

You lean into his touch, your heart swelling at the feel of his calloused fingers against your skin. “I want to go away with you,” you say, your voice steady and honest. “I’m tired, and you’re tired, and I just… I want to be with the man I love. To take time for us. Away from everything.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of his breathing. His chest rises and falls beneath you, each breath coming in measured, as if he’s trying to contain the flood of emotions threatening to break through. His jaw tightens, muscles clenching as he looks at you, something raw and vulnerable flickering in his gaze.

It’s like he can’t believe it. Like he’s struggling to understand that you, here in this moment, are choosing him. That you’ve made this grand, impulsive decision for him—for both of you. His eyes dart away, unable to hold your gaze, his throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. You watch the way his emotions twist inside him, how they tangle up in his mind like a storm that he can’t quite put into words. You can see it all—the disbelief, the hesitation, the way this feels too good to be real for him.

He doesn’t speak, but the weight of his silence says everything. For someone like Katsuki, someone who’s spent his whole life being told he’s too much, too harsh, too aggressive—it’s hard to let himself be wanted like this. To be chosen. And it breaks your heart a little, knowing that this is how deep his vulnerability runs, how much he’s carried on his own without ever asking for anything.

Gently, you reach up, brushing your thumb along his jaw, guiding his face back toward yours. “You deserve this too, Katsuki,” you whisper. “You deserve to take a break. To just… be with someone who loves you.” Your voice softens, a faint crack in the quiet. “Let me love you.”

His breath stutters at those words, his eyes meeting yours again, this time filled with something deeper—something fragile. His hands tighten on your body, and for a moment, you think he might say something. But then, he just exhales shakily, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

You can feel the tension slowly leaving his body, the weight of his resistance melting away as he allows himself to accept what you’re offering. He doesn’t speak, not yet, but his lips brush against yours in the softest of kisses, and you know he’s heard you.

It’s a moment of surrender, not just to you but to the idea that he can have this—that he’s allowed to be loved like this. And as you both lay there, tangled in each other, you realize that this is the start of something new. 

Something real. 

Something that, for once, feels like it’s yours to keep.

There has to be someone sabotaging Tsukiyo, you think. There’s no way this could happen two Fashion Weeks in a row—the final outfits not fitting again.

It’s déjà vu. Minase looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. The tension in the room is thick as assistants, stylists, and tailors dart around like bees in a hive, scrambling to fix the chaos unfolding before them. You’re sitting in the same spot you were last time, watching the chaos but strangely calm, Amanai seated beside you. The familiarity of it all is almost comical.

“This can’t just be bad luck, right? Someone has to be sabotaging the brand,” you muse aloud, watching Amanai get her hair touched up while your own makeup artist carefully layers shimmer onto your eyelids. 

Amanai snorts, tilting her head slightly as the stylist adjusts a stray curl. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But at this point, I’m almost used to it. Minase will just do what she always does. Cut some outfits and make sure the important ones fit. These are summer pieces anyway—more skin showing means less fabric to worry about.”

You chuckle, a tired sound that mingles with the hum of panic around you. The Spring/Summer collection is about fluidity and celestial romance, staying true to Tsukiyo’s ethereal identity. You’re supposed to embody that dreamlike essence, but right now it feels more like a fever dream than a romantic one.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. She always manages to pull something off.”

Like clockwork, Minase’s voice cuts through the frenzy. “We’re cutting some outfits!” she announces, her voice laced with an edge of barely-contained frustration. “We’ll focus on the most important pieces. It’ll shorten the show, but it’s all we can do.” She turns to one of the stylists, rubbing her temples with a groan. “At least The Celestial Ripple Dress still fits,” she mutters under her breath, almost as if she's trying to convince herself that this won't be a complete disaster.

You exhale, grateful that your outfit isn’t one of the ones causing trouble. 

With hair and makeup done, you’re hurried to the fitting room, where the assistants and tailors usher you into your first outfit of the night: The Sakura Veil Jumpsuit. It’s an airy, pastel pink piece, with floral appliqués floating on a sheer overlay. The deep V-neckline glimmers with crystal embellishments, catching the light as you move. You feel the soft iridescent embroidery brush against your skin, mimicking the delicate movement of petals in the wind.

It’s snug, but the tailors make some quick adjustments, and soon enough, you’re able to walk comfortably in it. With one final touch-up to your hair and makeup, you prepare yourself for the runway, the whirlwind of activity swirling around you like an unseen storm.

Amanai and Hanari are already at the curtains, peeking out at the venue. Amanai is dressed in The Moonlit Nomad Ensemble, a layered kimono-inspired blazer in misty gray, paired with fluid silk palazzo trousers that make her look like she’s gliding. Embroidered constellations shimmer faintly on the blazer, cinched at the waist with a metallic indigo belt, adding a regal structure to the otherwise ethereal look. 

Hanari is draped in The Ocean Mirage Dress, a sky-blue gown made of sheer layers of chiffon that ripple like water. The bodice is structured with wave-like 3D elements, flowing seamlessly into a skirt of cascading ruffles edged with micro-crystals that glitter with every movement.

Amanai turns to you, her expression calm despite the chaos. “So? Ready?”

You smile wryly, adjusting your boots. “I think so. Just hope I don’t face-plant. These boots are a little slippery, and I don’t think I can handle the embarrassment of falling in front of everyone.”

Hanari snorts, barely suppressing her laughter. “Just make sure to fall gracefully, then. That’ll still fit the theme, right?”

You all share a brief moment of amusement, but soon enough, it’s time to get serious. The smirks and giggles are quickly replaced with the practiced poise of professionals. 

Time to focus.

One by one, you step onto the runway. Hanari goes first, her gown flowing like liquid, followed by Amanai, whose ensemble glints subtly in the soft lighting. Finally, it’s your turn.

The second your foot touches the glossy floor of the runway, the world condenses into a singular moment. The backstage chaos falls away like a distant memory, and all that remains is the rhythmic click of your boots against the floor and the steady pulse of your own breath. The lights are blinding, but you keep your gaze forward, your body moving with effortless grace. You’ve done this a hundred times, but tonight, there’s something sharper about your focus, something more intense.

The audience fades into the background, their murmurs barely registering in your mind. Each step feels deliberate, every movement controlled. You feel the fabric of your jumpsuit shift against your skin, the weight of the crystals on your chest catching the light as you move. The shimmering appliqués float as if alive, and you become a part of Tsukiyo’s dreamscape—an ethereal figure, moving through a world of starlight and fluid beauty.

As you near the end of the runway, you pause, turning slowly to give the audience a full view of the outfit. You hold your head high, projecting an aura of quiet confidence. 

You turn on your heel, making your way back down the runway with steady, deliberate steps, the sound of your boots echo with each click, vibrating deep in your chest. There’s a practiced grace to your movement, but every step feels charged with a weight that goes beyond the runway. You remind yourself to stay poised, to let the outfit speak through your body, through your calm. The audience���s eyes are still on you, but their murmurs barely pierce your bubble of focus.

When you finally step off the runway, a quiet exhale of relief escapes your lips. You feel your muscles relax, but only slightly. There’s still one more outfit to showcase—the most important one of the night. As you slip into the organized frenzy of backstage, assistants swarm you with quick, precise hands, ushering you toward the fitting area for the final look: The Celestial Ripple Dress.

The jumpsuit slides off with ease, and in its place, the assistants fit the silk of the Celestial Ripple Dress against your skin. The fabric feels like liquid, molding to you as though it’s alive. The iridescence of the material shifts between hues of lavender and warm peach, flickering like the first light of dawn. The architectural collar frames your neck and shoulders, delicate patterns flowing from it like lacework, lending you a regal air. The beaded obi-style belt cinches your waist, and as you glance down, you admire the laser-cut lace at the hem, each detail a testament to the craftsmanship of the design.

It’s a vision, a dream, and as you catch your reflection, you feel like a celestial being. But the reality of what’s about to come slams back into you with the controlled chaos around you—stylists pulling at your hair, makeup artists adding touches of shimmer to your already glowing skin. You still carry a faint tan from your trip to Indonesia two months ago, and the subtle golden tone contrasts beautifully against the soft tones of the dress.

Before you can fully immerse yourself in the calm before the storm, Minase appears at your side, her energy frantic but precise. She adjusts a few last details on the dress, her fingers working quickly.

“Listen,” she starts, her voice low but urgent. “Remember what I told you. Confidence. You need to own this moment. Make sure every single person in that room sees you—sees the dress. And that final pose?” She gives you a meaningful look, her eyes wide with intensity. “It has to be perfect. You need to look like you’ve stepped straight out of the stars. When the lights dim, and you see those white LEDs flicker, that’s your cue. Got it?”

You nod, giving her a reassuring smile despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

Minase’s eyes flicker with a mix of tension and trust, and she nods before stepping back to allow the final touch-ups. The makeup artists dab a bit more highlighter on your cheekbones, and the hair stylists smooth out the last few tendrils framing your face, ensuring everything is in place.

As you take a deep breath, steadying yourself, the assistants guide you toward the runway entrance. Your pulse races, but the adrenaline is steadying, sharpening your focus. Around you, the backstage murmurs grow softer, almost muted against the steady beat of your own heart. Several people wish you luck as you pass, but their words blur into the background as your mind narrows into a singular focus: the final walk. Amanai and Hanari catch your eye from the side, their reassuring smiles grounding you in the moment. You return the smile, grateful for their support, but you know that no amount of encouragement can ease the pressure bearing down on you.

The runway lights begin to dim, casting the space into an ethereal shadow. The energy in the room shifts—hushed but charged with anticipation. A shiver of excitement runs through you as the white LED lights flicker, signaling the start of your walk. 

Here we go.

You step onto the runway, and the moment your heels hit the floor, every pair of eyes in the room locks onto you. The dress catches the dim light, shimmering like a pool of liquid starlight, and with each step, the fabric shifts between hues, casting soft reflections across the room. The collar frames your face, a delicate extension of your own elegance, and the beaded belt accentuates your silhouette, guiding every movement with a subtle grace.

The world seems to fall away again. It’s just you, the runway, and the audience. You walk with the kind of confidence Minase drilled into you—a confidence that commands attention, yet exudes an effortless air. The hem of the dress whispers against your legs as you move, the intricate lace catching the softest hints of light with every step.

You hear the faint click of cameras, the subtle murmurs of awe from the audience, but it all blends into the background. In this moment, you are no longer just a model walking the runway; you are the embodiment of Tsukiyo’s celestial dream, a being that belongs to the stars.

As you approach the end of the runway, you pause, turning gracefully to give the audience one last view of the dress. The delicate collar flares slightly as you move, and you hold your final pose—a celestial queen, untouchable yet mesmerizing. You feel the weight of the moment, the pressure, but also the thrill of it. The audience is enraptured, their eyes drinking in every detail, and for a heartbeat, the world seems to hold its breath with you.

And then you turn, gliding back down the runway with the same deliberate grace. The energy in the room hums, and you can feel the attention still on you, as if the entire space is caught in the glow of your presence. 

As you step off the runway, the weight of the night slowly lifts from your shoulders, and you release a deep sigh of relief. The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins starts to ease, leaving you with a calm satisfaction. “Good job!” echoes from all around you, stylists and assistants offering you quick words of praise as you make your way further backstage. 

Minase rushes toward you, her arms enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug, squeezing tightly. You return the hug, a wide smile spreading across your face. You know you did good tonight—really good. 

The look on Minase’s face is proof of it. 

You’ve done it again. 

The afterparty is in full swing by the time you arrive. 

The warm hum of low conversation and soft jazz mixes with the gentle clink of glasses. Dim lighting washes the room in an intimate glow, as glittering gowns and sleek tuxedos fill the luxurious space. The familiar click of your heels echoes against the polished marble floor, blending into the cadence of the night. Your eyes sweep the crowd, taking in the lavish surroundings, but you're instantly drawn to Amanai and Hanari, who are comfortably seated near the bar, their faces bright with laughter.

You’re dressed in a liquid gold slip dress that shimmers like molten metal with every movement. The delicate spaghetti straps highlight your shoulders, and the draped cowl neckline adds a touch of sensuality, balancing elegance and allure perfectly. The fabric clings to your body just enough to accentuate your figure before pooling subtly at your feet in a way that feels ethereal, otherworldly. Every step you take makes the high-shine metallic fabric catch the soft lighting, creating a fluid, rippling effect as though you’re a goddess dipped in gold. Paired with minimalist strappy heels, you feel the kind of confidence that only comes with wearing something that makes you feel utterly captivating.

But before you can reach Amanai and Hanari, you feel the familiar warmth of a hand sliding against your back. You already know who it is before you even turn around. There’s no mistaking the touch, the possessive yet gentle slide of a palm against your spine, the electric tension that runs through your body when he’s near.

A slow smile curls onto your lips before you even look over your shoulder, and when you finally glance back, your heart gives a small flutter as you meet Katsuki’s gaze. His expression is amused, eyes glinting with that familiar intensity you know so well. The edges of his mouth are curved slightly upward, a rare smirk tugging at his lips as if he’s just as aware of the magnetic pull between the two of you.

“Hi,” you breathe, the word barely a whisper as you turn fully toward him.

Without a second thought, your hand comes up, fingers curling lightly around his strong jaw, guiding his face down to yours. The kiss that follows is soft, slow, and searing. There’s something intoxicating about the way his lips move against yours, the way he holds back, teasing, yet still letting you feel the depth of his affection. When you pull away, you press another quick kiss to his lips, something playful. His eyes are half-lidded, lazy but brimming with affection, a softness in his expression that only you ever get to see.

Katsuki presses a kiss to your thumb, his lips warm against your skin. You wipe the smudge of lip gloss from his lips with your thumb, a soft chuckle escaping you. “You didn’t answer my texts,” you say quietly, your voice carrying a playful edge. “I didn’t know if you’d already arrived or not.”

He lets out a tch, glancing over his shoulder toward the back of the room where his friends are lounging. “Came with Shitty Hair and the others,” he mutters, nodding toward Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina. They’re grinning and waving at you like a bunch of excited kids. You smile and wave back, but your focus quickly returns to Katsuki.

“You did good out there,” he says, his voice almost too soft for him, but it’s laced with pride. It sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“You think so?” you ask, searching his face, feeling your heart swell when you see the genuine admiration in his eyes.

He hums, nodding slightly. “Yeah.” His tone is gruff, but the sincerity is clear.

You tease him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “So, I looked good then?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in that familiar way of his, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. “You always do,” he mutters, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips, his thumb brushing the fabric of your dress. There’s an understated affection in his touch, like he’s always more comfortable showing his feelings through actions rather than words.

Your fingers smooth over the fabric of his blazer, admiring the sharp, tailored fit of his all-black ensemble. He looks effortlessly handsome, dressed in a sleek black blazer with subtle metallic details that add an edge to the classic silhouette. The buttoned-up dress shirt underneath enhances his sharp jawline, and the wide-leg pleated trousers give him a sense of casual elegance. He looks sophisticated, polished, but still undeniably him. 

Your Katsuki.

“Well, you look pretty good yourself,” you say, your smile widening as you take in his appearance, your hands lingering on his chest. “Real handsome.”

He scoffs again, but you catch the faint blush dusting his cheeks, and it makes you smile even more. He always does this—acts tough, but you know how much your words affect him. His fingers flex against your waist, a small tell that he’s pleased.

He still has a faint tan from your trip to Indonesia, and the memory stirs a warm ache in your chest. It's hard to believe it's been two months since that whirlwind adventure. You can still picture the lush rice fields, ancient temples, breathtaking sunsets, traditional villages, and those perfect beaches.

Indonesia had been like a dream. 

It was everything you both needed. The two of you sat down and talked, really talked, about your feelings. Katsuki had opened up in his own gruff way, admitting how he felt after walking out of your apartment that day—how he wasn’t sure if he was just a fling or something more. You shared your own fears, how you’d been too scared to admit to yourself how much he meant to you.

And in that moment, everything felt right. 

The rest of the vacation was a dream—relaxing on the beach, hiking through the jungles, trying local food, and, of course, spending every night tangled in each other’s arms. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his touch, his voice, until you had it again. Every morning and night spent wrapped in him felt like a piece of you had been restored.

And now, you’re dating. Officially; something you hadn’t dared to hope for before the trip, and the thought still makes your heart race sometimes.

“So, I look good now as well?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes as you step closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

Katsuki raises a brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His thumb brushes over the golden necklace around your neck—the one with the first kanji of his name as the pendant, a gift he gave you after the trip. His other hand remains firm against your back, his touch grounding you.

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles, voice low and steady, filled with that quiet, unspoken affection only he can give.

“Sweet talker,” you tease softly, your lips quirking into a smile as you gently smooth a hand down Katsuki’s chest. His warmth seeps through the fabric of his sleek black blazer, grounding you in this moment of intimacy. 

He raises a brow but doesn’t refute it, letting your words settle with that usual gruffness, though you can see the faint trace of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “Let me say hi to the girls, then I’ll join you at your table, okay?” 

He nods and leans in, pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips, and you can feel the possessiveness in the way he lingers for just a second longer than needed. His lips brush against yours with a tenderness that feels almost out of character, but you know it’s him—Katsuki showing affection in his own way. You pull away and pat his chest, turning to make your way toward Amanai and Hanari at the bar. 

You glide through the room, feeling the eyes on you once more—not from the runway this time, but from the afterparty’s crowd. Your golden slip dress catches the ambient light, shimmering like liquid gold with every step. You’re in your element, but your heart is still wrapped up in Katsuki’s touch, in the way he looks at you like you're the center of his world, even in a room filled with people.

Greeting Amanai and Hanari doesn’t take long—just a quick exchange of hugs and a few words of praise for your performance on the runway. You laugh softly as they gush over your dress, the compliments filling you with warmth, but there’s an eagerness to get back to Katsuki. 

By the time you return to his table, he already has a drink waiting for you, of course. He always pays attention to the details, even when he pretends not to. As you approach, you quickly go around the group, greeting everyone with hugs and smiles. Kirishima gives you a bear hug, Kaminari’s enthusiasm is infectious, and Mina’s wide grin feels like a mirror to your own.

“You looked so cool!” Kaminari practically bounces in his seat, his eyes wide with admiration. 

Sero, his usual laid-back self, nods in approval while toying with an unlit cigarette between his lips. He smirks. “Yeah, you killed it out there. Not surprised, though.”

You settle into your spot beside Katsuki, his arm naturally wrapping around your waist as you lean into his solid frame. His presence is comforting—like a rock in the midst of the swirling energy around you. You smile and shrug modestly. “Thanks, guys. I’m just glad that starting tomorrow, I have a few days off. A mini vacation before the real work starts.”

It feels good to let that thought settle in—time to recharge before diving back into the hectic world of photoshoots and campaigns. You’ve been looking forward to this breather for weeks now.

Kirishima, always the supportive one, grins at you. “Good for you! You should take all the time you need.” His warm, encouraging tone is typical of him, and it only adds to the sense of relief that washes over you.

Mina hums in agreement, her bright eyes twinkling as she takes a sip from her drink. “Yeah, you deserve it. Fashion Week looked intense this year.”

You nod, feeling the tiredness start to creep in, but it’s a good kind of exhaustion—the kind that comes after you’ve given it your all. “It was, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s just… fulfilling, you know?”

Katsuki’s hand tightens slightly around your waist at your words, his quiet approval always there even when he doesn’t voice it. His presence beside you, even in these small moments, is grounding. He’s never one to shower you with compliments in public, but his actions—the way he holds you close, the way he’s always there when you need him—speak volumes.

Mina leans in, her smile mischievous. “So, what’s the plan for your mini vacation? You and Bakugou jetting off somewhere?”

Katsuki scoffs, his eyes flicking toward her with mild annoyance, but you catch the subtle way his hand remains on your back, protective and reassuring. You laugh softly. “We haven’t decided yet. Maybe something low-key. Relaxing.”

Kaminari nudges Sero with a grin. “Bet it’ll involve lots of… relaxing.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling at the innuendo, while Katsuki gives Kaminari a warning glare that shuts him up quickly. “Keep talkin’, Sparky, and you’ll regret it.”

“Jeez, I’m just kidding, man,” Kaminari holds his hands up in surrender, laughing nervously. 

You smile and lean your head against Katsuki’s shoulder, feeling his body relax under your touch. “Honestly, I’m just excited to spend some time with this guy. We don’t get enough of that these days.”

At that, Katsuki glances down at you, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll figure something out.” His voice is low, private, as though the two of you are the only ones in the room.

You smile softly, leaning up to kiss Katsuki’s cheek. The subtle gesture of affection makes his face flush slightly, but he keeps his composure by pretending to sip on his drink, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone. It’s a small, rare show of his vulnerability, the way his cool façade slips just for you. Even though he’s trying to play it off, you can feel the warmth in his posture, the way his arm tenses slightly as if to pull you closer. 

His friends, however, are far from oblivious. Kaminari and Mina are practically glowing with grins as they exchange glances, amused by the way Katsuki tries so hard to act nonchalant. Kirishima's grin is wide and genuine, clearly happy for his best friend. They know this side of him, the softer side he shows only to you, and it’s a sight they cherish—though they’d never dare tease him about it, not seriously anyway.

“I just want somewhere with a beach,” you continue, keeping the conversation flowing as you sip your drink. “Maybe Okinawa. Maybe the Caribbean. I’m still figuring it out with our schedules, too.” Your voice is light, relaxed, but the longing for a break is evident in the way you speak. The whirlwind of fashion shows and shoots, though thrilling, has left you craving some time away—a place where you can unwind and just be.

Katsuki’s thumb absentmindedly strokes your waist as you speak, his subtle way of showing that he’s listening, even if he doesn’t say much.

“But I do know that I need a break,” you laugh softly, the exhaustion creeping into your tone, though it’s balanced with a sense of excitement for whatever comes next. “Something relaxing, somewhere far away from all of this chaos.”

Kaminari nods in understanding, his carefree grin softening into something a bit more thoughtful. “No, I get it. This whole thing is a lot, and you’ve been working hard. You gotta enjoy some time off.” His words are simple, but there’s an appreciation in his tone for the effort you’ve been putting in. Hero work, modeling, it’s all a lot, and sometimes people forget how much goes on behind the scenes.

You nod in agreement, grateful for his words, and the conversation begins to shift. Soon enough, they start talking about their hero work—patrols, training sessions, recent missions. You find yourself listening more than speaking, content to let the conversation flow around you. Your hand rests on Katsuki’s thigh, the soft fabric of his trousers warm under your palm. Absentmindedly, you run your fingers up and down, feeling the solid muscle beneath your touch. It’s a comforting gesture, one that feels natural between the two of you now, and you notice how it subtly relaxes him.

Katsuki, who usually has a sharp edge in his voice when he talks, is different tonight. His gruff tone is still there—because that’s just him—but it’s not harsh. He doesn’t bark his words or throw in as many biting remarks. When he speaks, it’s with measured authority, chiming in with his own thoughts on their hero work without dominating the conversation. He’s relaxed, at ease with you at his side.

You catch snippets of the conversation: Kaminari rambling about a recent mission that went awry, Sero and Mina debating the best techniques for urban rescue, Kirishima enthusiastically talking about new training regimens. Katsuki listens, occasionally grumbling an opinion or a sarcastic comment, but you can feel the quiet respect between him and his friends. They look up to him, even when they joke around, and he, in his own way, values their friendship deeply.

Every now and then, Katsuki’s hand moves to your back, brushing against your skin as if to remind himself that you’re still here, grounding him. It’s a small gesture, but it makes your heart flutter every time.

You gaze at him—really look at him—and it hits you: your boyfriend is like a supernova. His eyes, red but gleaming gold in the light, his messy blonde hair somehow still effortlessly handsome, and the way he fills out that sleek black blazer and those perfectly tailored pants. He looks absolutely irresistible.

And then, an idea starts to take shape in your mind.

You can’t help but grin mischievously, leaning further into Katsuki's side. You press a quick, feather-light kiss against the corner of his jaw when no one's looking, letting your fingers lazily trace patterns on his thigh. Your foot slides up and down along his ankle, a slow, deliberate tease that makes him stiffen slightly, his breath catching in his throat. For just a moment, his usual composure falters, and you feel the way his muscles tense under your touch.

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you lean in close to whisper, your breath warm against his ear, "Meet me in the bathroom from last time."

Katsuki’s sharp inhale is barely audible, but you hear it, and it only makes your grin widen. His reaction is perfect—a mixture of shock and anticipation. He tries to maintain his cool, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him, his grip on the glass in his hand tightening just slightly.

You pull back as if nothing happened, your expression innocent as you stand up. "I’m just heading to the bathroom," you tell the group with a casual smile, and no one bats an eye. But Katsuki knows better. His gaze follows you, smoldering, even as he tries to act unaffected.

With a teasing sway of your hips, you walk away, knowing full well that he's watching. The sounds of the party fade as you make your way to the more secluded part of the venue, the quiet settling around you. There’s a pleasant thrum in your body, the buzz of alcohol adding to the heady anticipation that builds with each step. You move through the hallways with ease, your heart pounding just a bit faster as you turn the familiar corners.

Slipping inside the private bathroom, you take a moment to check your reflection. The liquid gold of your dress shimmers under the soft lighting, clinging perfectly to your curves. You snap a few mirror selfies, the excitement bubbling up inside you, and even take a moment to fix your makeup. 

A few minutes pass before you hear the door creak open behind you. Katsuki slips inside, his presence filling the small room immediately. His face is flushed, his usual scowl more pronounced, but you can tell he’s fighting it—his embarrassment, his frustration at how easily you get to him. It makes you laugh, a soft, teasing sound that fills the space.

"Don't look so grumpy," you tease, turning to face him fully. "You're about to get the best head ever, honey."

His ears turn an even deeper shade of red, the blush spreading across his neck, but all he can manage is a low, unintelligible grumble. He looks almost flustered, which is rare for him, and it only makes you smile wider. Before you can say anything else, he steps forward, wrapping his arms around your waist, his body pressing against yours from behind. His breath is warm against your skin as he buries his nose in the crook of your shoulder, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss there.

The warmth of his mouth on your skin sends a shiver down your spine. His lips linger for a moment, soft and deliberate, before he pulls back, resting his head against yours. He’s relaxed now, his earlier tension melting away as his eyes become heavy-lidded, the earlier scowl gone. His hands stay firmly on your waist, holding you close, and you can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

You smile at both of your reflections in the mirror—Katsuki looking uncharacteristically soft, his gaze half-lidded and affectionate, while you’re practically glowing with warmth. It’s moments like this that remind you of why you love him so much. Despite the brash exterior, the sharp words, and the gruff demeanor, he’s always so gentle with you. He’s always so careful, so loving, in a way that makes you feel treasured.

"I love you," you say softly, turning your head to press a kiss on his cheek. He lets you, his lips curving into a faint smile before he tilts his head to capture your lips in a soft, whispery kiss. It’s slow, tender, and full of unspoken affection, his way of saying what he’s never been good at putting into words. 

"Love you too," he mumbles against your lips, the words barely audible but sincere.

The simple exchange fills you with a sense of warmth, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face next. "Now, let’s get down to business," you say, your voice light with amusement.

Katsuki snorts, rolling his eyes, but there’s a trace of a smirk on his lips. "Yeah," he grumbles, his tone playful, "let’s get down to business."

You laugh softly, your heart swelling as you realize—this is your life now. Moments like this, the quiet intimacy, the teasing, the shared affection—it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it. 

With Katsuki, it’s always exciting, always a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. 

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

final notes:

thanks for sticking around and for reading! this was such a fun story to write, and i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did.

here is my ko-fi :) as some of you may know, i’ve been sick and haven’t been able to work as much, so any support would mean a lot. no pressure, of course!

again, thank you so much, and until next time!

[cheezritsu]

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

The myth of Sae Itoshi is that he is uncaring. His blank face, coveted by brands for being unreadable, is plastered on billboards and shrunk down into magazine ads, the 2 dimensions unable to capture the tempest of emotions that passes through his turquoise eyes. Sae is in fact readable; predictable, transparent--sea foam that washes back up on the same shores it’s always known. You look at Itoshi Sae and you know your answer before the inevitable part of his lips, so you’re never surprised. Not anymore.

Sae has no pleasure in this. He hates being seen, wishes he could close the curtains to you again, but it’s too late.

So he says the first thing that comes to mind. Sometimes it’s witty. Other times is a lame excuse for lashing banter, but you laugh anyways. A little amused snort and the roll of your eyes he knows well. So maybe you’re just as see through as him.

You ask him hard questions. Questions that have surface level, preprogrammed answers, the first thing he regurgitates to sate everyone else. But you’re not everyone else. Never have been.

“Do you miss home?” Yes. More than anything Sae misses home. He doesn’t miss Japan, doesn’t miss Kamakura or his street-- he misses the capsule of when he lived there, floating in his memory before he left for Spain the very first time. That home, those people are gone and lost to time and Sae would smash the universe to pieces to get back there. (And yes, Sae thinks, even with you in it.)

But that’s impossible. And insane. Yet when he simply says yes, you tilt your chin down and make a little shoving gesture with your outstretched hand, like you’re opening the floor for him. (He likes that about you. You give him space, like now, or when you open your legs to let him stand between them, or letting the room air out between words so he can gather his thoughts,)

“Have you ever seen Chibi Maruko-Chan?” He relishes the blank look on your face. You correct your confusion quickly, snapping your head back at the correct axis, then saying “No I haven’t,” very softly, like your voice will shatter the reticent bubble he’s created. “What’s it about?”

Sae shrugs. “It’s just about this girl who lives in Shizuoka City. It’s autobiographical, the Momoko Sakura in the show is probably the author. And she just like,” Sae doesn’t know why he’s at a loss for words. Why there’s an empty space in his chest where the words should be.

And then there’s not: that empty space around him floods as your hand idly slides into his open palm, fingers lacing and thumb rubbing a soothing stripe under the second knuckle of his thumb. You don’t look away for a second, something syrupy honey sweet reflecting in your eyes as he finds the words he rarely doesn’t have.

“She has little mundane adventures. Gets into trouble. has a sibling, and of course everything resets. Nothings ever wrong permanently in an episodic slice of life.”

“Isn’t that the dream,” you remark off handedly, and it strikes Sae that for all the time you’ve been together he doesn’t think you’ve ever gone home. Which admittedly isn’t much, but it feels significant. Feels like you know, somehow, about the time bubble he cast on his home, how he can only ever go to the home he wants to in his dreams, how those locations of home are warped from time and memory and no matter how many times he goes "home," he will never be back there.

It’s in your eyes, the same ones squinting with a smile. “Sounds cute,” you say, and nothing more. Your body shifts, leaning down and finally taking that space for yourself, slotting against Sae’s side, where you ought to be.

Sae’s arm snakes around you without unlacing your fingers. He presses your side flush against his. A solid reminder that he can't crush space and time, but he can have something. Something he's proud to call home. “It is cute. It’s old, probably as old as I am.”

“Wow, so ancient,” you say, and Sae kisses the top of your head. It smells like you put perfume in your hair, not the one he buys you, but the one he smelled the first time he met you. He likes that one better anyways.

The conversation drifts, because you’re some sort of encyclopedia and you start filling the space with your voice he never tires of. And perhaps because you were born of the same seafoam, or because he just knows you by now, Sae is unsurprised when a few weeks later, you serve him tea in a Chibi Maruko-chan mug. Unsurprised, but still filled with some tumultuous mixture of yearning and gratitude. Something akin to a smile wobbles across his lower lip, and he sniffs when he asks

“Can I keep this?”

“It’s yours, baby.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

Sae's favorite show is Chibi Maruko-Chan, an autobiographical slice of anime about a young girl who lives in Shizuoka. I think it’s an odd fact about someone who hates their home country so much lol, but then I thought about this.

This is also inspired by this song, namely the lyric “I see you, my same eyes,” and how I think Sae will need to be with someone who feels the same way he does.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: random word prompts with haru, towa, ren, taiga, romeo, and ritsu!

COMMENTS: ritsu...save me....save me ritsu......save me best lawyer japan will ever see..................save me :((

Haru - Convience

It’s easy to run to his aid when he doesn’t call you. Haru is always chipper and kind, greeting you with a cheery good morning and a slap on the back. He knows you know more than enough now from shadowing him for so long that you can take care of most of the anomalies yourself.

He would never let you near the bulls, though.

Only he is allowed to break every bone in his body and get bitten til he bleeds! That is none of your concern. You’re much too soft and precious for that, he’ll sooner die than let you get in trouble.

So please, won’t you hold his hand when he feels tired? Won’t you always be there for him? He really likes it when you scratch at his scalp like that. Let him rest his head in your lap and breathe, just for a little while.

Towa - Innocent

To be one’s first love is truly an honor, Towa thinks. He finds you so cute, with your warm cheeks and soft smiles, your shaking hands as you give him little bouquets of wildflowers. He giggles and swings you around, kissing your skin over and over until your flesh burns underneath his mouth.

Precious! You’re so precious! You’re each other's first kiss, first love, first date, first everything. Towa couldn’t be more grateful that he gets to experience such a love with you.

It’s an honor that you trust him so much. It makes you so beautiful. You already looked stunning while you were in love, but since you’re in love with him, you look so much better.

Ren - Implication

“Come here and watch me play,” he says.

“Where are you going? There’s still fourteen minutes left of the movie,” he says.

“Why are you playing all the way over there? Do I stink or something?” he says.

Ren is full of subtleties you have to decipher every time you speak to him. He seems almost scared of voicing his desires for you to be near him.

Even when you get near him of your own accord, he calls it sexual harassment. It’s like he does it on purpose just to see you get irritated.

It works.

Contrary to his word, though, he always scoots a little closer to you when you’re near. A slight shuffling of feet when you’re tending to anomalies, a shifting of his leg on the couch, each one is noticeable.

He’s such a silly man. Doesn’t he know by now that you want the same thing?

Taiga - Definite

You stare, unimpressed, at the massive bite mark on your shoulder. The steam from the warming shower slowly rolls throughout the bathroom as you poke and prod at the sharp teeth marks, wondering how the hell you’re going to get them gone.

It was winter, so wearing a jacket would be a given, but hiding it wasn’t the problem. Feeling it was.

And now every time you moved your shoulder, the skin would stretch uncomfortably because your absolute unhinged boyfriend decided to fucking bite you.

You snatch up your phone and send him a quick text about how he needs to chill out and move to set your phone down. Before it hits the counter, it buzzes, and you lift it back up to your face.

Rolling your eyes, you huff. Right, silly you! You forgot being bitten was a definite when in a relationship with someone like him.

Romeo - Perception

Liking Romeo was really, really hard sometimes. Even though he was hard working and very ambitious, two traits you greatly admired, his overbearing attitude was the one thing you hated the most.

You’ll get wrinkles! Fix your eyebrows! Don’t curl your lips like that! That shade isn’t right, try this one! Your chapstick came off! Your skin is flaky right here!

Over and over and over, every flaw you had he would address like it meant nothing. Didn’t he have any manners? You weren’t supposed to talk to people like that, especially your friends.

But...when you sit yourself down at your vanity in the late hours of the evening, you do as he says. You apply your skincare and you’ll do a facemask if you feel like it.

And when you wake up the next morning to his scrutiny and slight nod of approval, you feel lighter inside.

Ritsu - Monarch

There were many words one could use to describe Ritsu. Annoying was one you heard a lot. It was not one you agreed with, however. You’d much rather use words like dependable. Cool. Clever. Impressive. You’d much rather follow him around like a lost puppy, soaking up every word he says with stars in your eyes.

Taiga makes fun of you, asking if you’re ever apart from the other person. Ritsu gets huffy and you just shake your head bashfully. Romeo snorts and calls you a basic bitch, lamenting about how Ritsu has spent so much time with you and yet hasn’t taught you a single thing, to which you reply that Article 230 of the Japanese Penal Code states that one who publicly alleges facts shall, regardless of whether such facts are true or false, be punished with penal servitude or imprisonment not to exceed three years or a fine of not more than 500,000 yen.

This time, Ritsu has stars in his eyes. You eat his pride for you out of the palm of his hand, relishing his beaming smile.

You’ve learned a lot from him.

Every time he calls you his business partner, your heart sings. It’s an honor and a privilege to be with the man you admire most.

And at the end of the day, when the lights are dim and he takes his jacket off, you help him undo his tie. He always reminds you that it’s after working hours and you always shake your head, wanting to stay by his side more than anything.

He gathers you into his arms and holds you, just for a little while, eyes sliding shut as you rest your hands against his shoulder blades.

How beautiful it is, to be special to him, the king of your heart.

[kitkat13001]

⋆⟡ ݁⚡︎ ₊ . 𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 

⤷ denki kaminari x reader

⤷ friends to lovers, mutual pining, coming-of-age vibes, inspired by the song “ultimately” by khai dreams

ultimately  i don't understand a thing i try to do the best i can i know you try to do the same

denki kaminari was never the smart one. he liked to joke around a lot but the truth underneath his charming smile was that he was terrified of failure. he was afraid that people didn’t see him as anything other than the dumb but funny kid in their class. just a yellow sticky note with a joke written on it, here to be laughed at and gone with a mild breeze. 

we’re just so bound to make mistakes you could call it a disposition i apologize for all your tears i wish i could be different

you were never the fortunate one. things just didn’t work out for you the way they did for other people. you could blame it on a lot of things, but you sometimes think that it boils down to the fact that some things weren’t meant to be. maybe you were one of them. maybe you never would be. 

but i’m still growing up into the one you can call your love i don't know if i’ll ever be enough i’m throwing in my chips i guess i tend to push my luck

high school always feels like it’ll last forever but one day you’re waking up and suddenly it’s all over. and the graduation ceremony is beautiful and everyone cries and then the tears stop when yaomomo announces the party at her house and mina announces the after-party at her house. it’s so strange that after the fun dies down you all realize this is the last time that all of you will be here, under one roof, all together. and it’s sad, of course, but also some strange kind of beautiful. that you’re all going to different places and becoming different people. 

and ultimately i believe we'll be okay it’s so cliché to say these things but repetition is a key

many promises are made the night of graduation. the usuals, to keep in touch and call every day and send pictures and meet up for the occasional hero team-up. but denki’s eyes have been fixed to you the entire night, and he’s got a promise for you too. of all the people in this room, you’re the one he doesn’t want to lose the most. so when the party is over, he swallows his pride and walks over to your dorm room on your very last night at u.a., trying not to stutter and not to trip over his own feet. you welcome him like you always do, and you spend a long time laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling as though you’re stargazing. the only stars are the glow-in-the-dark stickers still attached to the ceiling, though, but they’re enough to give denki hope. 

i think i’m better when i’m with you but i worry when you're gone i think i need to learn to love myself i must learn to be strong

“america is a long way from japan, huh?”

you blink, as if you’re hearing about it for the first time. “i guess so. it didn’t really occur to me until now, i guess.”

“i don’t know how i’m gonna spend my nights without our 1 am study sessions.” denki means it as a joke but he’s entirely serious. his life is going to feel so empty, he thinks, without you in it. 

“maybe you could try sleeping,” you giggle to yourself. 

denki snorts. “nah. i think maybe i’ll still stay up, but on facetime with you. it’ll be daytime there.”

“it’s crazy. i never thought i’d end up so far.”

“you could always come work in tokyo with me,” denki suggests, a not-very-sly wink following suit. 

you laugh. “as much fun as that would be, i think it’s time for me to be somewhere new. i can learn a lot in the u.s.”

he sighs a little. “i know.” he’s silent for a second before he asks the question that’s been weighing on him ever since you announced your departure for america. “do you think you’ll come back? after your sidekick residency, i mean.”

you think on it long enough to get denki’s heart racing with panic. “i don’t know. maybe. i guess we’ll wait and see, huh?” and then you smile and denki really wishes he could feel okay. 

so, for now we'll say goodbye although it pains me in my heart your words they come to me in memories they sing to me like songs

denki cries when he walks you up to the terminal. you cry when denki cries. you sit, a puddle of tears, embracing each other in the middle of the crowded airport as onlookers swarm to get around the commotion to their flights. 

he cries for several nights after you leave, and you cry in your hotel room while you scroll through your old pictures. 

but like anything else, you get used to the absence. the silence. 

it won't be long until i’m here soon i’ll make my arrival under shady trees, a quiet street the roads that i have traveled

tokyo is as lively as you remember it, you think as you watch the busy streets and bustling people and colorful scenery from your spot sitting in the patio of a corner café. you drum your fingers on your cup anxiously. you don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous, but the idea of seeing denki after all these years makes your heart race.

what if you look different to him? what if he can’t recognize you? what if you can’t recognize him? what if-

you whip around when you hear a familiar nickname of yours called in an even more familiar voice. 

a scream promptly erupts from a young blond man’s lips as he makes a beeline for you. 

a giant smile appears on your face and you begin to scream as well, running for him. 

“denki!”

you collide in the middle of the outdoor seating area, clinging on to each other with a surprising grip. 

denki pulls away and his grin is so wide. 

“you’re taller! and you’ve got a new hairstyle!” he exclaims, eyes roaming over you as he takes in your changed appearance. you look different, for sure, but you look like you. 

you shriek out loud, eyes landing on the metal hoops through denki’s ears. 

“you pierced your ears?!” you demand, bending his head awkwardly to better look at the decorations. 

denki laughs. “i tried to tell you!”

“i thought you were joking! and your bangs, look at you…” your hands remain steady on his cheeks and you get a good look at him, squinting dramatically. you beam at him after a minute of scrutiny. “you look good, denks.”

if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. “thanks. you look good, too…you always look good.”

ultimately it's a beautiful thing like flowers blooming in a lonely field the petals drift through crossing winds

there’s a very brief moment as you hold him, his hands on your forearms, eyes interlocked and bated breath, where everything feels like you never left. like you’ve been here with him the whole time and there’s never been anything but you and denki kaminari forever. 

it’s that ephemeral moment of beauty that lets you lean in and kiss him, like you both should’ve done so many years ago. 

and it’s everything you ever dreamed. his lips are soft, his hands are warm, and his bangs are tickling your nose. and it’s so perfect you can’t believe it took you this long to do it. 

that find their way to river streams that scent the water beautifully it takes me back to you it takes me back to you

you laugh breathlessly when you pull away after a very long moment. denki just stares at you in awe, dopey grin plastered on his face. 

“god, we should’ve done that forever ago,” he admits, bashful and pink-cheeked. 

“yeah, probably,” you agree, slinging his arm over you shoulder as you tug him along. he moves with you like a magnet, and it feels right to have him by your side again. 

“guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.”

“i guess we will.”

icons from pinterest, not mine ; divider by @/saradika-graphics — i actually really like how this one turned out. i wrote the premise years ago and it finally hit me tonight to finish it. denki holds a very special place in my heart.

[leah-lover]

Crossover. Leah Williamson x reader.

Based off this request. Thank you.

Exiting, that's how you would describe your life as a model. Yes there were the occasional hiccups but you mostly got to do very cool stuff and hang out with cool people. Your work took you everywhere but your home base was London. You started your career there and a large number of your followers come from there too.

The thing you loved the most about your job was the parties. They allow you to meet very interesting people, pick their brain and develop interesting g friendships.

Today was no different. Nike had a pretty high budget launch party for their new show line and you were invited. These parties were a little less formal than what you were used to going to, so you decided against a suit or a dress and settled for a black strapless and backless jumpsuit, a pair of black heels and some gold accessories. Your make up was elegant and your signature red lip was at its center.

Nike as always sent you a car to your house and you headed to the location of the event on time.

Upon arriving there you said hi to some people, talked to others, took some pictures at the event with some guests and drank champagne. The night was as regular as most of most launch parties were. Suddenly you were approached by one of the managers of the event.

“ Hey, so I wanted to introduce you to one of the faces of this launch. Miss Leah Williamson.” he says.

“ hi, nice to meet you, Miss williamson.” you say offering her your hand.

“ Hey, just Leah please.” she answers, shaking your hand

.” a fellow Brit I see. I haven't seen many of those tonight.”

“ glad i was among the few.” she answers. You two talked for a little while over a small table, each one of you nursing a drink. You both were making jokes trying to get one another to laugh or at least smile. There was definitely tension in the air and you both were flirtatious with one another.

“So Leah this has been one of the best nights I have had for a while. Thank you “ you say, squeezing her hand gently.

“Yeah it was fun for me too.” she responds with a disappointed tone. “Let me walk you to your car.”

While leaving the venue you hear a photographer say “ Miss Williamson would you like a picture?”. She looks over to you and you get into your usual pose instantly. While getting ready her hand slips perfectly on the small of your back applying the right amount of pressure.

While the photographer's flash was blinding you, you looked over to Leah and she did the same to you. You stood there getting your picture taken with a hot blonde after flirting with her all night. She made you feel safe with her hand on your back which you appreciated.She then walls you too you car.

“Tonight was fun.” You say leaning on the door.

“We should do this again sometime soon.” She replies with a small smile on her face.

“House about you come to one of our games. We will play in the Emirates soon. I think it would be a good experience.” She added.

“ Maybe.” You respond before getting in your car.

This night was gonna be unforgettable.

—----------------

Fact forward a few weeks you were back in England after being in Milan, Paris, and Japan for work. Well there first two were work , the last one was for fun since the F1 Japan grand prix was one of your favorites on the race calendar. You could say that that weekend was well spent. You hung out on the Ferrari paddock and did a lot of social media work. This work backfired on you because all people were talking about the whole weekend we're done moment that happened between you and a driver. Romers never bothered you, now it was different. Leah had followed you on Instagram after the event and you worried that she would believe them. As a result you decided to go to the arsenal game she talked about. Getting tickets was a Hassle because they were all sold out. But you managed to find a seat right next to the bench, very close to the field.

You showed up to the Stadium early. You hair was down, your makeup was simple, you wore jeans, a black button down and a Jersey over it, one that says Leah Williamson on the back, and you added a few gold accessories again.

Like Leah said the atmosphere was electric. You went to the VIP section first, got some food and a drink then you headed down to your seat. Leah didn't know you were coming; you wanted it to stay a surprise.

As soon as the players appeared on the pitch the whole strain erupted into cheers and chants. Those cheers only got louder when Arsenal scored 3 goals in 20 minutes which you were told was impressive.

After the half time break some players were running up and down the field. That's when she saw you. She held eye contact with you for a long time, a wide smile planted across her face. She had a look of pride, joy, and reassurance. You smiled back at her, clapped as she came on and sang and chanted loudly.

After the game was done the players were doing a lap around the pitch and when she saw you again. Another wide smile was painted on her face. She looked happy to be there and happy that you were there too.

She was then signing autographs, taking pictures and genuinely talking to people. She grew immensely in your eyes because of her thankful and humble demeanor. She then asked for you to follow her inside the stadium which you did.

“You clean up nice. I like your shirt “ she said with a cocky expression on her face.

“Well I saw a charming young lady at an event a few weeks ago and she hadn't left my mind ever since. I missed her and I thought I would come and see her. Turns out she is the best person in the world.” You respond.

“ Well I hope this girl gets to go have dinner with you because you two sound formidable.” She added

“ Maybe.” You respond

You wait for her to get ready and get out of the locker room. When she gets out, a few girls follow her and appear to be teasing her.

“ I swear if I hear from anyone you shit heads you won't like practice anymore.” She said to them. You simply wave to them as you two walk by then to Leah's car too which she opens the door.

“ Such a gentleman.” You exclaim.

“Well I have competition. That girl you were talking about is a catch.” She joked.

Leah was fun. She made you feel at ease and safe.

This was going to be a fun adventure.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Can I request "The red string theory" with 2012 Leo x Reader? It's basically when two people are connected and bound to meet when the time is right, regardless of the place or circumstance. (Could be platonic or romantic!)

I've been craving 2012 stuff for so longgg!

(I love and adore your work a bunch you have no idea💗!!! this is actually my first time requesting something. I've been so freaking nervous 😿)

-🦈💙

The Red Thread of Fate (Fluff)

2012!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Soulmate stuff! I love it! I’ve always loved reading other people’s soulmate fanfics, so I’m happy to finally make one of my own. And I hope that you find this fitting for your first request😊 Love ya bunches!💙

Warning: Most likely spelling💙

East Asian folklore explains that everybody is tied to their future partner, by a small invisible red string. Chinese mythology has the string tied around the destiny partners’ ankles, while in Japan it was often shown with the string tied around the woman’s little finger and the man’s thumb, even though nowadays it was usually shown only around the little finger on each person. And that was just the versions you were aware of.

You guessed that you had a string too. Sometimes you could feel it, and sometimes you couldn’t. Small, sometimes tightening a little around your pinky, pulling ever so slightly at you until you would move, but nothing would come of it. No one would be standing there and waiting for you when you walked into the other room, and well, suddenly you couldn’t feel the pull on your finger anymore, leaving you standing with a strange empty feeling inside.

Other times you swear you saw it. For a split second you could swear that you saw something small and red tied around your little finger, with a thread like string trailing off from it. However, with the blink of an eye, it was gone, or pinky once again looking as plain as ever.

As time progressed, you find yourself wondering more and more, your searching for answers becoming more and more prevalent. You had long longed to find that special someone, that you could share your life with. The one that could make you feel like the world's prettiest and luckiest person, and that you in turn would make feel the same. The one that you would be willing to work through ups and downs with, knowing there could be no highs without any lows. The one that you would find at the end of this invisible red string you found at the end of your pinky finger, every now and again teasing you with its elusive existens, and the knowledge that your future partner was out there somewhere, probably looking and thinking about you, the same way you were looking and thinking about for them.

But no matter how many times you found yourself dreaming and wondering about your soulmate, you had never thought that he would be close by. So close that he would be under your feet, literally.

One day you found yourself sitting in your bedroom, lost in thoughts, dreaming about that face you hadn’t seen yet. With all of your responsibilities laid out on your bed before you in paper form, you simply could not concentrate, your thoughts continuously wandering off to better places, only to find yourself back in your bedroom, with your work and homework laying out in front of you, just waiting for you to get them done.

You let out a frustrated sigh, letting your eyes scan over the paper in your hand. What was the point of sitting here and dreaming? Dreaming wasn’t going to bring your soulmate to you any faster. If this red string around your finger was as true as you wanted to believe it was, then you couldn’t force it. Your soulmate wouldn’t come around before time is ready for it, so spending too much time dwelling on it was not helping it. It was better to get going with your life and let it come to you along the way. So with yet another sigh, you took a hold of your pen, looking down over the paper one more time.

Then, as if the universe heard your thoughts as they ran through your head, your window smashed, sending someone hurling into your bedroom, landing directly on your floor, glass shards flying everywhere. You let out an ear piercing scream, standing up on your bed, looking down at the guy on your floor, groaning as he sat up, rubbing his head with green three fingered hand… Green three fingered hand!?

You stared in a mixture of awe, shock and a little fear at the green figure on your floor. Green, with a darker green colored shell on his back, his torso enclosed with a light brown plastron, his eyes wrapped with a blue bandana, with eye holes making his blue eyes visible, when he looked up at you. A turtle? A humanoid turtle?

Silence fell between the two of you, both of you staring at each other on high alert, unsure of what to do. After what felt like an eternity of looking into his light blue eyes, the turtles slowly lifted his hands, trying to signal to you that he had no intentions to harm you. But that was not what you noticed. Instead you noticed something thin and red, tied around his pinky finger. A red thread.

You took in a sharp breath when you saw the thread continue off his finger in a small line, your eyes slowly following it until you saw it coming to an end at your finger - tied around your pinky. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, your gaze shaking as you looked back at the turtle man on your bedroom floor. No way.

The turtle seemed just as shocked as you, his eyes flickering between you and his hand, before slowly taking a hold of his tied hand, looking at it like he couldn’t believe what he saw. Whatever he and his brothers had been fighting out on the other roof was long forgotten, with the sight in front of him being the only thing he could think of. He had always dreamed of this moment, but never dared believing it could actually happen. Him, a mutant turtle living in the sewers, actually meeting his soulmate, a human.

Still standing on your bed, just shoulders slowly came down from the tens positions, your lungs letting go of the breath you had been holding. His round, yet strangely handsome face calmed something in you. Something before now, had never noticed, was so turbulent, slowly coming to a calming halt.

“I- I’m (Y/N)”, you said in a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, his mouth slowly coming agape. “W- who are you?”

“L- Leo”, he answered, with a stammer letting you know that he was just as nervous as you. “Leonardo”.

“Leonardo”, you repeated with a small nod, not noticing the shiver he felt when he said your name. “Cool name”.

“T- thank you”, he said, slowly coming to a stand on your bedroom floor, coming to his full height, making a butterfly burst to life somewhere deep within your stomach. “Uhm…”, he continued, unsure on how to proceed. “H- have you heard of, uhm… the red thread of fate?”, he asked, holding up his hand with the red threat.

“Yes”, you answered, holding up your own.

Silence fell over the two of you once more, this time with small nervous smiles, both of you wreaking and turning your minds, finding something to say, that didn’t involve just smiling at each other like two idiots that were slowly falling in love. That was when you were interrupted by the sound of Leo’s brothers, calling out for him to help them with what threw him into your room in the first place.

“Shit, I have to go”, Leo said, looking from the broken window to you. “Listen, I- I will be back, I promise! But me and my brothers have a little, uh, problem to take care of”.

“Brothers?”, you asked, your unsurety washing away by the moment as you stepped down from your bed. “There are more of you?”

“There is”, Leo smiled, seeming to calm down when you stepped closer to him, getting lost in the thought of your once again, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. Was he so lucky? So lucky that not only would he meet his soulmate, but get to kiss his soulmate the same day. By your close proximity and your awestruck face it seemed like it. He could just lean forward and do it. He could just kiss you right now, while you smiled at him, seeming to just be waiting for him to do it-.

“Dammit, Leo! We’re losing our shells out here!”

“Oh! Yeah! Shit! Sorry, Raph!”, Leo said, before quickly running for the window, stepping one foot on the window ledge before turning towards you one last time. “I will be back, I promise… And sorry about the window, I’ll get that fixed for you”.

“Thank you, Leo. I’ll be waiting for you”, you smiled, causing the turtle's heart to skip. He stared at you for a moment, feeling his heart jump around inside his chest, wondering if all of this was a dream.

“See you soon, (Y/N)”, Leo said, dwelling in the fuzzy feeling he felt when he spoke your name.

“LEO! AARRRRGH!! HE GOT DONNIE’S ANKLE! HE GOT DONNIE’S ANKLE!”

“I’m coming, Mikey!”, Leo yelled before hurrying up the fire escape. You quickly ran to the window, wishing to see him one last time, only to find him already on your roof, in the last second before he leaped over the alleyway below with ease, running to whatever situation his brothers were in. You stood back in awe, a chuckle of disbelief pushing past your lips. You had just met your soulmate - the man that had been waiting at the red of your red thread - and he was a turtle. A humanoid turtle with the ability to jump over alleyways. If you decided to tell anyone, they would never believe you. And even you wondered for a moment if you had made the whole thing up. That was until you realized you no longer felt a tug in your little finger, but instead a storm of butterflies in your stomach.

[fluff-n-cookies]

more dad dabi head content?! you write it so welllll🥺🥺🥺

*sighs.* It's been a long day for me so im coping by speedrunign this. thanks for requesting, I appreciate you interacting with me more so than the usual like or comment.

Author notes under the cut as well as links

Warnings: FLUFF (mostly, 90%), not proof read, SPOILERS, minor swearing.

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's (she's a toddler, 3-4 years old)

Dabi calls reader bunny, Dabi is addressed as "Daddy"

---

Dabi would be such a good dad you cannot tell me otherwise.

I mean sure, some times he forgets things, that you have school the next morning, and most days he feels like shit for not being able to rent a proper apartment to house you in; forcing you to live in this tiny cupboard of drywall and rotten carpet because he simply can’t afford better. Yeah sure, he sometimes loses his temper and tells you to go wait in your room when he has his "coworkers" over or when the bad man is on TV. But the moment he sees discomfort, prickles of tears in your eyes

He will shut the ever loving fucking up and back away.

But I think what makes him the best dad is his undying will to protect you, usually from himself. He'll lock himself in his own room or take it out on civilians and other villains before even thinking about coming to you in such a god awful state.

however it's also important to note that he'd do just as heinous things if he finds something that's more of a threat then himself. AKA, Endeavor.

(I just realized that by typing the rest of this paragraph, I'd be spoiling the plot of part three, forget I ever said anything.)

So rather than speaking of the devil we'll talk about how much of a worrywart Dabi actually is at heart.

He spends every single waking minute, and every unconscious second, to worry about you. This man lives in constant paranoia. Truly, deep down in his heart he wants to bundle you up in bubble wrap and tuck you under 10 blankets so you'll never be cold. So it's quite unfortunate that he can never quite express these feelings to you or anyone for that matter, trauma and internalized fear of emotional vulnerability and all that.

As a result, he will often express this through odd gestures of- I'm not quite sure what exactly it is.

What he'll do is he'll stare at you for prolonged periods of time, memorize your every schedule, demand to know all your friends, he emails your teachers once a week at least to ask them about your academic and social whereabouts. Everyone thinks he's a helicopter parent, no, he's a fucking psychopath.

he might as well have a GPS tracker on you. of course you barely get a say in this. he's your darling father, he's been like this since you were born, he only does it because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. he doesn't want to hurt you, even if he does, he's always apologized right after.

Dabi is also a cheapskate. the world's greatest in fact. despite the IRS never collecting his taxes he will forever never have enough money, he spends most of his "paycheck" the money stolen from innocent civilians on your college funds. He fully plans on starting a new life in Europe after All For One takes over and enrolling you into a top college so you can get your education (that is if the educational system is still intact.)

this is also why he is a Dumpster Diver and Pro Thriftier on the weekends! Everything, and I mean everything, is probably vintage and from goodwill. I have nothing else to say about that.

However, this did cause you to be heavily bullied and ostracized at school. A school in the pretty subarubs of japan where everyone's parent were either middle class or above, where you, you came from a different district, with the worn down shoes and the badly done hair, so excited to meet your new classmates. And it's quite sad really, never having many friends and all that. Especially if you aren't fully Japanese and were of color. (shout out to all my POC readers!)

and of course this wouldn’t be a proper story without Dabi being a little shit, but that's the thing about Dad Dabi, he is never a little shit in front of his child. never had been and probably never will be. It primarily roots from this need of an acutal father figure that he never had (endeavor was more so a mentor and teacher and, of course, abuser rather rthan an actual father to him).

he's nothing but serious around you, hell, he barely even talks, only ever grunts and hums in response to whatever you're saying so you know that he's listening to you. you may think he doesn't care, but he remembers it all as best he can, scribbles it down in broken grammar on the back of newspapers because he can’t afford a proper phone nor nice clean printerpaper.

Honestly, Dabi's a good father. But he's heavily insecure about it, he truly wants to lock you up in a castle like the princess you are to him and keep you there until the ends of time.

And on a simmilair note, he refuses to let you became a "bad" person.

AKA, someone who doesn't respect others, someone who cusses a lot, someone that doesn't show gratidute when given something good in their life. the reason he does it is because he refuses to see the current version of himself in you, he refuses to even think about you being tainted. Refuses. In his deluded mind that version of you can never exist lest they kill him.

He's genuinely the most strict helicopter parent to ever parent.

I'm talking monitors you 24/7, enrolls you in every after school club with even the tiniest bit of academic advancement (chess club, book club, math team), and he sits down with you every night to work through homework, he only ever buys nutritious meals for you; even though they take up the majority of his budget, and he only eats after you've eaten, drowning himself in the shitty dollar menu fast food.

Of course, he rewards you heavily for your hard work. Every day, he praises you for all that you’ve accomplished,

“Aww, good job honey.”

“A+, very nice.”

“You got a B? Oh, you thought you’d get an A? It’s okay, I know you tried. a B is good too.”

It not the most encouraging thing in the world but he wants your to know that he cares, he’ll takes you out for ice cream at the end of every month and give you an allowance to spend 10 dollars for every A on your report card. (This takes a huge bite out of his budget, but he made you a promise… he can skip out on dinner a couple nights, it’ll be fine.)

so far, you've been doing so well in school, one of the best students in your school, one of the more kind and respectful too. it's just that... you're so shy, you practically cower in fear when you have to talk to your classmates, especially after the incident. (Part 3, anyone?)

Dabi also puts this persona on for you, this persona of a kind man who is just a tad bit odd looking. he puts on the facade of being a normal civilian with a stable job and okay-ish income just so you don't worry. With you, he’s soft and trustworthy and only wants the best for you. Even if he does make you upset, he says sorry afterwards, always. He loves you, at least, that’s what he tells you.

And though it's not something he really worries about now, he dreads the day you become a teenager, then you'll know why he spends his nights out when there's criminals on the lose, who fears the day you'll understand what the news means, the day you'll take the hero's side. He just doesn't have the resources to keep you hidden from the outside world long enough for this wretched war he's fighting to be over. For the mean time, he denies you of much context on what he actually does all day, it's quite easy to do such a thing; he only ever needs to divert your attention to something shiny or pretty, like those little unicorn toys that he bought you for your second birthday, bought them brand new unlike many of the other things he's gotten you over the years. But he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up for, you’re smart, incredibly so, it’s only a matter of time until you know who he actually is,

another thing that he fears is of you growing up, caring for a small child is one thing, but he fears the day that you'll become a complex human being capable of properly understanding your emotions and failing to understanding that he truly wants the best for you.

he'll sit in the darkness of the living room some nights, you tucked neatly away on the other side of the couch, fast asleep, you never could finish a movie night without falling asleep half way through. his breathing's heavy as he runs his mind through the thousands upon thousands of theoretical fights you two'll have when you get older. How you’ll want to distance yourself, how you’ll cry yourself to sleep some nights because you think he doesn’t love you. he can't handle it, he won't stand to be your enemy.

because one day, you'll be an adult, you'll want to leave him, and you'll never come back. he can't live with that, he simply won't. he sometimes thinks about killing himself so he won't live to see the day you no longer want him in your life.

OR, OR, ALTERNATIVELY.

ProHero Dad Dabi.

I have been thinking about Dabi's ProHero Au since forever now. think teenage father Dabi but he got a girl pregnant the moment he's out of high school. (those after graduation parties be crazyyyy) and now he genuinely doesn't know how to balance his home life and his career and his daughter.

and obviously, just obviously, he CANNOT tell his father, he's already worse than Shoto, he's not gonna go lower on the scale.

so despite being the highest climbing amateur Hero in the past 7 years, he takes the longest hiatus of his life just to figure all this father shit out. his first plan was to but the girl up for adoption, and then he realized it would fail the moment the media find out, then he thought maybe he could tell one of his friends to take care of her, one of the ladies who'd fallen head over heels for him back in high school, he'd charm them, marry them, and then make em' into a house wife to take care of his mistake child.

honestly, it was a pretty good idea until he truly did start to love his child. similar to the main timeline, ProHero Dabi realizes he wants to be a better father than the one he grew up with, he decides to keep the child and raise her as his own, etc.

But in this timeline, literally everything is reversed.

Dabi's loaded with that money that the government gives him or fighting off a couple measly thugs, pair that with the brand deals he gets offered every other minute, and the trust fund his daddy gave him to get him through the "rough years" as he called it, he's practically rolling in cash.

oh God, you are going to be such a brat growing up. Life handed to you on a silver spoon is nice. I'm talking luxury clothes, top private schools, an allowance bigger than the gods. and Dabi did It all cuz' he loves you.

and the media goes HAM over a teenage ProHero that already looks like a villain having a daughter with a stranger! the press goes wild over it, but the whole time, Dabi covers your little tiny face with his hand so the flashes of the cameras don't frighten you and calmly explains that he will not be taking any questions. he holds you tight to his chest the whole time.

But you know who as the most furious? ENJI. big guy cussed out Touya for 3 hours straight all while holding you, at first the refused to give his son any right to hold you let alone raise you! In Enji's eyes, his son is the most malicious thing to ever grace this planet, he drinks, he smokes, he has ten thousand tattoos and piercings along his burn marks to match, Dabi's essentially the devil, and he's not going to let him get anywhere close to his first ever grandchild and possible child prodigy that he can turn into his puppet! Rei and Fuyumi had to step in and try and convince Enji to let Dabi have you rather than file to take full custody of you with the promise if Dabi even showed hints of negligence towards you, he can take his son to court.

okay that the end of my rant. and please let me know if you want to know more about pro hero Dabi from me.

---

For those who don't know, this post is related to these

Pt 1, Pt 2

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

Note: YA'LL READ MY RULES FOR REQUESTING DAMN. I GOT 2 ANONS (more than my usual of 0) AND BOTH OF THEM ASKED FOR ROMANTICS (I DO NOT WRITE ROMANTICS)

please, please, read a writers rules, please follow them, and thank you to this anon who decided to be reasonable BECAUSE MAYBE THEY READ THE RULES BEFORE DECIDING TO ASK LIKE YOU"RE SUPPOSED TO THIS HAS HAPPENED NEARLY EVERY TIME I GET AN ASK.

taglist: @blurryperrtymoonlight @harkenizalone @lostiolite @rllytriedrn @mellyxqz @cupkiki @xxnessinessiellexx @dehlieee @frog-fans-unite @rian1023 @aikobabe @double-gs @mitsuki3123 @wolvwa @red4-0

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ oikawa as a best friend

⟡ cw: fluff, friends to lovers, lmk if i missed anything

⟡ a/n: kinda long i think. star trek bc my dad loves star trek and yk oikawa likes space and aliens and stuff.

⟡ best friend series: hanamaki, matsukawa, iwaizumi, || masterlist

best friend oikawa who you met in middle school when you saw him throwing a tantrum outside the boys volleyball gym.

best friend oikawa who screamed when you sat next to him because he was startled. you were just there to give him a juice pouch to try to cheer him up.

best friend oikawa who you got closer to when he felt better afterwords and found out that you were in the gym next door with the girls volleyball team and only came out to get a drink from the vending mchine.

best friend oikawa who always snuck into the girls practice every chance he could so he could watch you play. you did the same with the boys team. iwaizumi would yell at you guys for this.

best friend oikawa who didn't talk to you for a week after you saw him scold kageyama for the first time and lectured him. you guys didn't bring it up again until high school.

best friend oikawa who quickly gained a fanclub during first year of high school and quickly told them that you were not to be messed with (some of them were already ruthless hence why he brought it up)

best friend oikawa who somehow convinced your volleyball coaches to practice together sometimes during practices so one day he'd be with your team and another day you would be with his team.

best friend oikawa who got bullied by you and iwaizumi constantly because he was a dumb goof who was just so...punchable. all love though.

best friend oikawa who was shocked when you told him you didn't want to play volleyball anymore in you second year because you weren't feeling it anymore and wanted to focus on your studies. he tried to convince you otherwise but he supported your decision.

best friend oikawa who also said he would only accept your decision as long as you became manager for his team. they needed one after all and his fangirls were too crazy according to iwaizumi.

best friend oikawa who in your third year told you about his feud with kageyama and shocked you because he never told you any of this. it only came out because of the practice match with aoba jihsai and karasuno was coming up.

best friend oikawa who was acting like a baby when you said that he needed to make up with kageyama. he listened and it kind of worked?

best friend oikawa who forced you to watch every star trek season in existence with him.

best friend oikawa who broke bough you, iwa, and himself matching bear onesies for his birthday because it was his one wish. you both did it for him but forbid him from posting any pictures.

best friend oikawa who ran crying to you the first thing after they lost semifinals for nationals.

best friend oikawa who slept over at your house for a few days after because he didn't want to be around all his volleyball stuff for the moment.

best friend oikawa who cheered up when he found out he was going to be able to go to argentina after graduation to pursue his dreams. you both celebrated along with the other third years.

best friend oikawa who realized his feelings for you when he realized he would have to leave you behind alone since iwaizumi was also leaving japan.

best friend oikawa who was about to tell you how he loved you but before he could you told him to shut up and to listen to you.

best friend oikawa who was in shock for like five minutes when you told him you were in love with him and surprised him saying that you were also going to argentina with him.

best friend oikawa who reassured you that he didn't think you were cray or weird for wanting to follow him to argentina because he loved you back.

best friend oikawa who is now boyfriend oikawa who is now telling everyone how amazing of a girlfriend you are and how you both are going to live your best lives in another country.

[project-sekai-facts]

Wait An/Kohane have outright stated romantic interest?

poor wording on my end bc they never actually say "an and kohane like each other romantically" but the evidence it very much there and it is clearly depicted and phrased in other ways. for example: the shoujo sparkle effect that is used for An from Kohane's POV.

This effect is often used on Haruka in Minori's imagination, which, well, let's just say it doesn't disprove that Kohane is attracted to An. While the effect is also used to show a character being cute or having a strong "idol" aura without any attraction attached, it's prettly clear the intent was to show Kohane's attraction. Also she was blushing.

Bonus points to the fact the wedding event has a underlying message (they say it on screen) about how marriage should be equal regardless of the genders of the couple [because gay marriage currently isn't legal in Japan].

There's also literally everything in Buddy Funny Spend Time. While almost all of the interactions in that event can be read as platonic if you really want to, they're written so you can interpret it as romantic if you choose to. And considering the featured pairs in this event were Minori/Haruka, An/Kohane, and (briefly) Shizuku/Airi, it's not like that reading isn't supported by the writers lol. There's one part where Minori and Kohane get jealous of how close Haruka and An are as childhood friends and aren't sure if they can amount to that, but they want to try. Doesn't necessarily have to be romantic but can be if you choose to read it as such.

When Kohane is visibly attracted to Haruka, An gets slightly jealous and says that her singing should be the only thing that makes Kohane react that way.

Haruka also points out that although An has always been super friendly she's never been like this with anyone until Kohane came into her life, and still keeps this behaviour Kohane-exclusive. An says it's because they're partners, which, kinda friendzones them, but kinda doesn't.

The word for partner used in the story - "aibou" - means, to put it in incredibly basic terms, coworkers. It's like the cowboy or detective word for partner, though I believe it comes up in shounen every so often (the genre vbs story is based on). In itself, aibou has no romantic connotation. But 3 of the partnerships we see in VBS' story have lots of interactions that easily read as having romantic undertones, so basically in the context of VBS story the nature of said partnerships becomes a little more ambiguous. The word is still platonic and that doesn't change, but you get the idea. Oh and VBS has recurring romantic soulmate imagery more on that later.

continuing on BFST, yeah they went on a date. which is strongly suggested to be a romantic date unlike how it's sometimes used platonically. like the other characters say An is "seeing someone", at least in the English translation, which is very much associated with romantic interest. Also the original Japanese for the "do you know who she's going out with" line uses the phrase デートの相手 which is the Japanese equivalent for the word "date" (as in a person/your date), so it's not really any different. they go on another one in Kick it up a notch and An's card story for the event. their relationship is never labelled or anything (probably bc this genre avoids that sorta thing for fan-related reasons) but this very much was a thing that happened.

(also when ken says partner he says aibou. so not partner /r but anyway it does clarify that this date is to do with their relationship on a different level to partners /p. ie: an's going on a date with kohane because she's cute not because she's her partner. language is fun)

Lastly back on that thing I said I'd come back to. The Walk on and on costumes have romantic soulmate symbolism included on them. The wings on the backs of the outfits are based on the mythical hiyoku bird, a one-winged bird that could only fly after meeting its other half. Kohane's costume has pink accents, one of the variants has accents in An's image color and the wings on the backs of those variants match up to each other. The card illstrations themselves also feature crows, which mate for life. While the symbolism is mostly associated with Toya, the Whip the Wimp Girl! cards take place in the same location as the woao cards which is pretty neat, and makes sense given the themes of both events. I've put both their gacha logos above as well. Oh and An's card for wtwg was. Something.

And Kohane got the valentine event this year and it was about her entering a contest to win limited edition chocolates for An I forgot about that until just now.

Have fun with that.

[appleblueberry-pie]

Vampire Geto Suguru

A/N: Ok so this entire writing makes zero sense because it sounds like i'm making this a short story, but I realized like halfway through that there is no way for me to finish this unless it becomes a short story and I felt every single patient bone in my body disappear at the realization. So...it's gonna sound unfinished. But if you ask questions about Vampire Suguru x Half-Vampire Reader, I will answer questions. I want to answer all possible questions that can't be answered in this 'supposed-to-be-a-short-story.' Cuz it has amazing potential that my hands can't fulfill.

Suguru almost has everything he's ever wanted. Power. Local fame. And control over the city he could call his. His followers, devotees, were nothing but scum on the bottom of his shoe that he could scrape off anytime he wanted. In the heart of Tokyo, he owns a corporate building meant to attract wealthy families in hopes of healing them of their pains and sins. Almost like what a place of worship would be.

Near-wealthy men and women sit in the largest room the floor below the top floor, meant to sit there in honor of Geto blessing their eyes with his presence. He is all they need and nothing more. He often convinces the people who make an appointment with him that it's the same thing for them, as well. But he's good at manipulating.

Filthy rich men and women, sometimes entire families, come crawling to him to fix family problems, their perverted minds, their souls, their bodies, in hopes they'd be pure at the end of the night. Instead, they become his next meal. Peasant human blood tastes a little too rotten for his liking. So, he sticks to the next best thing. The poor should be thanking him for taking the load for them.

The only problem was that nowhere in Japan was there vampires. At least, not anyone past his bloodline. But he already erased them entirely. Human women reek of selfish desires, tainted iron in their blood, and sex. It's so clear what they want and he can never get past the smell. So, as far as the seas go, he's never seen someone he could busy his mind with for the next couple thousand of years. If not, eternity. But who knows how long his patience will last until then...?

His nose was guiding him somewhere, currently.

His feet following the invisible trail of the scent. The smell he's only picked up back when his bloodline was still alive. When they were in their prime. When they were farthest from their human counterparts. There's no way he could find what he's thinking of, right?

His nose led him into a small grocery store. Somewhere around the alleyways and crooked backstreets in between the tall buildings in Tokyo at 2 in the morning. Only his kind would be out at this time of night.

He walks in, the fluorescent light accentuating his pale skin and muscular figure. His black hair and clothing makes him stick out in the midst of the colorful food choices surrounding him. And in between the different smells of fresh ripe fruit and disinfectant chemicals, he could catch the natural musk of another him.

Another him.

Another vampire.

He ignores the cashier asking if he needed help and nearly speed-walked through one of the aisles, the scent only getting stronger. He grows more determined and turns the corner only to run into a shorter girl, dressed in black like he was. You both make eye contact.

You two share a very silent and quick understanding of who was in front of who. And who was what.

"Excuse me," You mutter.

You attempt to side-step him and ignore him like nothing ever happened, and he mirrors your movement, effectively blocking you.

You look back up at him, your eyes more piercing than the first time you made eye contact. He could see the color difference the moment you moved to look up at him. Now that he was close enough, he could also smell your irritation. You're not dead.....you're half-human. No wonder.

He clenches his jaw. He knows himself enough to understand that he wouldn't even consider letting you go, knowing he just found the first non-relative vampire in Japan since- he doesn't even know how long. Black coat, a neat white turtleneck and skirt underneath the coat. Leggings, socks, and shoes follow the black and white pattern. Original skin color being paler than usual. Somewhat of muscle definition hidden. He was scaring you. He can smell it. And your fangs are beginning to poke out. And can he hear you growling at him?

He finds himself smiling, pleased with how his night was now going. "I apologize for bumping into you. Please, allow me to pay for your-" You shoulder him hard enough to almost knock him into the stand of chips behind him. No one's showed him that amount of strength in a while. He follows close behind you, not letting the moment phase him.

You place your things on the front desk, and the cashier matches your pace, scared of the, now two, taller figures watching him do his job. Both you and Geto seemed to tower over him from across the counter, eyes unfaltering in their predatory stare. You just want to get the hell out of the store and Geto....he just doesn't like the guy. He squeaks out the total, and before you could dig in your purse fast enough to grab your wallet, Geto places his card on the counter. You don't even bother to turn around and just wait silently for the cashier to finish up. When the transaction is over, Geto moves to grab his card again and you're already halfway out the door, things in hand.

You don't look back, hoping he would finally stop pursuing you. Once you turn the corner, Geto's already there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. You let out a nasty hiss, nearly snarling at him and he raises his hands up. "I know. I'm not here to hurt you. I just...wanted to introduce myself." "I don't need your introduction. I know pretty clearly who you are. And what you are. Leave me the hell alone."

Geto's face dropped slightly when you tried to brush him off again and turned the other way with your groceries in hand. Once again, he's reminded of centuries of loneliness and his hand is already grabbing your arm. "Wait." You grunt in annoyance and slight fear. His man was a full vampire. You moved to Japan to avoid any kind of vampires. You wanted silence in your life from all kinds of people that would be after you to court you and kill you just because you're a half-breed. And the one time you thought you could finally have silence, there's a rich and powerful man in Japan who's almost like a Monk who can solve all problems of the modern man. And he's acting as if he's one of them, but turns out to be a pure blood. You didn't care if he told you sweet words.

You didn't want to die.

"Aren't you lonely? Being the only vampire in the city? I just want a companion. Someone who's like me. I don't want to sound desperate, but you're the only vampire I've meet in Japan in ages. Is friendship too much to ask for?"

You turn around, thankful for him letting go of you. "I left my hometown to escape all of the vampires coming after me. You being here is the only issue I have in Japan. Everything else is a blessing to come across. As much as I would like to help someone in need, all I want is to be alone."

Suguru wish he cared about your past as much as he cared for his own mental sanity.

For a half-blood, you were stronger than you let on. Getting you into the, very well decorated and furnished, basement was a hassle. You gave him a few nasty scars and ruined his shirt. But once you were thrown back through the heavy doors for the 4th time, you finally settled with the realization that you can't get past this man. Your ear piercing screams and bites turned into whimpers and cries as you attempted to comfort yourself in the corner of the cold room.

He felt bad. He didn't want you to be so...scared of him. But there's no other way for you to accept him. You tired yourself out and even broke one of your nails(it was already almost fully back) trying to escape.

Suguru sighed, discarding his tattered shirt. "I'm sorry things had to be this way. I do wish we can get along a little better when the time comes. But for now, it's just going to have to be like this." He sits on his old couch and sighs when one of his servants comes in with a pouch of blood. You watch her eye your captor down before smiling at him with the blood on a serving tray. "Good evening, Master-" Her voice obviously pitched to try and please him, when it did the exact opposite. You snarl and before she can finish her sentence, you tackle her to the ground, landing on the opposite side of the room.

She screams bloody murder as your nails dig into her skin, your mouth reaching for the crevice. She's never seen another one of you. Another vampire. She thought her master was the only one in the world, the only one meant to be considered and known. But here you were, ruining her ideologies. Killing her with your selfish nature. She wishes she could hurt you back, but you were bigger, stronger, and would haunt her in her worst nightmares in ways only Suguru said he could. You were everything he said he was. And she hated it.

Not like it mattered when your teeth breached her skin, sucking her unworthy blood for all she's known for. You groan at the taste of good blood for the first time in over 100 years. You stopped drinking blood back at home when you knew it'd get you nowhere, trying to hide. But you had a reason now. You had to leave this place.

Each swallow of warm iron made you feel brand new. You felt lighter. You felt energized. You felt angry that you stopped for so long. How stupid were you to give up something so good? Your outfit started to feel too tight. You were growing back to your natural height.

Suguru got up, watching you tear into his servant. He got a whiff of your scent once more, it was more potent, almost entirely different. He almost felt ashamed being turned on by it, but this is exactly what he wanted. Someone to indulge his fantasies in. You were perfect for him.

When you finished, you detached yourself from the girl's neck and stared at the dehydrated corpse underneath you. Suguru's voice was enhanced now that your hearing is back to how it's supposed to be. "I'll have someone discard the body." You ripped off the tight shoes on your feet and stood, meeting his eyes. You were a probably a couple of inches shorter than him. Definitely taller than you used to be.

"Let me go." You watched his eyes trail to your lips covered in blood and wanted to swipe him so bad. But you knew he was still stronger than you, even at full strength. You can smell it. (You would never admit he smelled so good.) Suguru smiles at your words. "I can't, Princess."

You step closer, almost attempting to size him up. "At least let me shower. Are you gonna neglect me of that, too?" "Only if I can't have the honors of doing it myself." You scoff, shouldering him on your way to the couch. He actually rubs his shoulder in pain this time. "If I let you bathe, you have to promise me that you won't try to escape. My home can only take so much damage." Suguru realizes he likes teasing you. "I'll let you prove yourself to me this one time. I hate that human scent lingering on you."

"I'm a half-breed." "You know that's different." You sigh this time, rubbing your face.

It's gonna be a while before you find a way to escape this lunatic.

[justwinginglife]

Operation Rescue Hoshina aka The Runaway Boyfriend

Inspired by ideas from @adaizel based off of a fic that I wrote where Hoshina tries to avoid reader by running off doing other missions with other divisions and the reader says she'll drag his ass back if she finds him doing it again. Thanks again for the ideas and the enthusiasm. Also this will be NSFW as fuck and this will be longer than my usual fics so buckle up!

When you find the office of the Vice Captain is empty yet again, his stupid chair swiveling like he just had the idea to up and run, you groan. Hoshina loved doing this to you. He loved picking a Division, any division at all, and running away to them under the guise of helping with their missions. He loved to see how long it would take you to find him and come running, yelling profanities at him. He thought it was sexy. And he loved to see just how far he could push you.

It was a little game the two of you would play, and sometimes you were amused and sometimes you weren't.

Today you weren't. You were supposed to be having a meeting with him to talk about new training protocols for the Third Division and here he was fucking around god knows where on a random ass Tuesday, knowing damn well he has loads of paperwork to do. You knew you should have told him Captain Ashiro would be at the meeting too, he'd never mess around if it was the Captain. You were his sole target for teasing.

"Which fucking division are you in now Soshiro??" You grumble to yourself, flipping through papers on his desk, and opening drawers trying to see if he left you some sort of clue. You found nothing and you thought you might have to journey all over Japan to find him, when you got a text on your phone.

Come pick up my idiot brother, please. He's driving me crazy.

You scoff at your phone. Well this was a new one. Looks like he was in the Sixth Division today.

When I get there, I'm going to kick his ass so hard he lands in America.

You suit up and take your motorcycle. He hates when you make him ride on the back of your bike (he claims you drive like a crazy person and his sensitive stomach can't take it) but you don't give a shit right now. You just want the fastest way to get to him, and with this mode of transport you can duck and weave in between cars.

You arrive at the scene of Hoshina's soon to be murder, revving your engine as you spin in circles making donuts on the pavement and sputtering smoke into the air.

You pull out your megaphone from your bag. You had to buy a megaphone at this point.

"SOSHIRO FUCKING HOSHINA! IF YOU DON'T SHOW YOURSELF IN TWO SECONDS I WILL SNAP YOUR SWORDS IN HALF AND SHOVE THEM WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE!" You bellow loudly through the speaker.

The onlooking officers wince and move aside, making way for a very embarrassed Soshiro to step through.

"Hi baby." He says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he slowly walks towards you.

"PICK UP THE PACE SOLDIER!" You yell as though he doesn't outrank you.

He sighs and starts jogging to you.

"Little much today, don't you think, love?" He asks as he approaches you.

You raise an eyebrow, daring him to challenge you, and he holds both his hands up in surrender.

He grins. "I mean, it was sexy and all." Then he cocks his head at your ride. "But did you have to bring the damn bike?"

You smirk at that. "If you didn't want to ride on my bike you shouldn't have run away, dumbass."

He groans, already clutching at his stomach. "Please don't drive crazy."

You wink at him. "Shall we do some off-roading? Just for you baby?"

He rolls his eyes and hops on the back of the bike, wrapping his arms around your waist. Then he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your neck. "Hey. We haven't had a date this week yet, and I saw this cute lil diner on the way in. Dinner on me, baby?"

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. This was the one thing you liked about his stupid, wild antics. He'd treat you to anything in whatever city you found yourselves in. "Dinner... and I saw a shopping mall on the way over. Buy me something nice."

He chuckles and snuggles up against you. "Deal baby."

And that was Tuesday. But then came Saturday and Saturday was a whole different beast. It was you and Hoshina's day off and you had been snuggled up in bed with him when he said he wanted to go for a walk, you were still sleepy so you waved him off and he said he'd be back soon. That was three hours ago.

Ughhhh, why's he doing this to me on a Saturday? You groan and throw on your combat suit. You've got your knives tucked in place all over your suit and guns prepared when you hear a knock at the door. That better be him, you think to yourself.

You open the door and it's a woman. You blink. She blinks.

"I'm looking for Soshiro?" She asks.

Your eyes narrow. "Who wants to know?" And who the fuck is using his first name so comfortably.

"I'm his girlfriend." She says snootily.

You throw your head back and laugh once, then you stand up straight, cracking your shoulders and your knuckles. You glare down at her. "That's funny. Because I'm his girlfriend."

She clears her throat. "Well I'm his ex-girlfriend," She corrects herself like it's a simple mistake.

Bitch. You didn't just misspeak, you were trying to have something over me, you think to yourself. "And what the fuck are you doing visiting his place, ex-girlfriend?" You emphasize ex as you step closer to her, towering over her and causing her to back up one step. But she holds her ground and refuses to back up any further.

"Just wanted to see if he missed me, that's all." She says simply and you're pissed off by her honesty. Like she's not threatened by you.

"Be a good girl and tell him I said hi, yeah?" She smirks.

Your fists clench. "Darling, I don't know if you know this, but these apartments are owned by the Defense Force and I'm the Third Division's Platoon Leader so I say you're trespassing. If I see you around here one more time, if you even breathe anywhere near my boyfriend, I will personally grab you by your shitty extensions and drag you off the grounds myself. Is that crystal fucking clear?" You make a point of pulling your gun out, though you know it's an immature move.

She raises an eyebrow but then rolls her eyes and backs off. "I see Soshiro still likes them crazy." Then she walks off and leaves you alone with your thoughts. You watch as her figure recedes, biting into your lip until it bleeds.

What a fucking awful way to spend your Saturday.

You need to shoot something. You open your phone to find the tracking app (you'd finally decided you needed to install some way to trace Soshiro easier), and find he's in the First Division today.

"Sorry Narumi, I'm about to break your fucking door down." You snatch your keys (honestly- you almost rip the whole ass hook off the wall trying to grab them) and get in your car (you think it might be too dangerous to be driving pissed off on a motorcycle). You slam on the gas, the smell of burning rubber filling the air, and you speed off.

When you arrive, you thank god there's an actual kaiju attack. If you didn't have something to kill, you might've strangled Soshiro himself. In fact, you might kill the kaiju and strangle him anyway.

Now the First Division officers see you pull up and they start to groan, looking around at each other nervously. Soshiro runs away to the First Division more than any other division because he knows it'll annoy the shit out of Narumi to have the two of you causing chaos in his city (kill two birds with one stone right?), so these officers know you almost as well as the Third Division at this point. Or at least they thought they did, but today you were a whole different level of frenzied and furious and they were not immune to the fear that followed.

You don't even look at them, and they start to breathe again, thinking they're safe. Then you jump on the head of the nearest kaiju and start pummeling it with your fists until it's pulp. The officers gulp. You usually use your gun and give the kaiju's a quick death- less chance of them hurting anyone else if they die quicker, you'd say. But apparently today you weren't thinking about mercy or efficiency.

When your fists finally start to get tired, you pull out your gun and start rapidly blasting any beast that dares come near you. Then, once you've cleared out most of the kaiju, you start to go for the big one. That's where Narumi and Soshiro are currently held up. Narumi rolls his eyes as you jog up to them and Soshiro grins.

"Hey baby!" He calls to you.

"A fucking walk? Huh, Soshiro? A walk?" You spit out.

He shrugs, still grinning from ear to ear. "It was a long walk, what can I say?"

"You went for a walk in your goddamn combat suit? To the First Fucking Division??" You demand, punching him in the arm.

He senses you're a different kind of mad today but he can't quite figure out why. He watches you intently, trying to piece it together.

You know he's trying to figure you out so you make it easy for him. "Met your bitch ass ex girlfriend today. You know, the one you failed to mention you had."

He coughs. "You met Tsumi?"

Hearing her name, knowing that he knows who you're talking about, pisses you off even more. You punch his other arm and he winces.

"You ladies wanna take this conversation elsewhere? I'm kinda busy here." Narumi says, still shooting at the Honju.

"Actually, I think I'm good right where I'm at." You charge headfirst towards the Honju, while Narumi and Soshiro gape at you. You run at it, shooting anywhere that looks like a soft spot but to no avail. You're glad the Honju isn't easy to kill though- you don't want it to be.

"Guess I'll have to use these." You pull out Soshiro's swords and he spins around wondering when you took them from him. You slash at the beasts legs, arms, chest, neck. You just want to slash at something, anything at this point.

Be a good girl and tell him I said hi, yeah?

You hear her stupid fucking voice in your head and you keep slashing and slashing until you you realize the Honju has been long dead and the officers of the First Division are gathered around you, staring.

You wipe the blood from your face. "Soshiro. We're going home. NOW." You drop his swords to the floor with a clang and he winces at the sound. He collects them quickly and follows you to the car, waving bye to the other officers before he gets in.

You drive home, intending to spend the time in silence but Soshiro has other ideas.

"Does it help if I say you were really sexy back there?"

You're silent.

"Hey, I saw this really cool movie theater we could try. It's got luxury seats and a full bar."

Still silent.

"Baby. Come on. Are you really mad at me? For real? I don't even get a date?"

You glare at him and then turn back to face the road. "Why don't you take Tsumi on a date?"

You can almost hear his stupid cheeky grin. "Ahhh. I see. Someone's jealous. So sexy."

You punch his arm again in the same spot you'd hit earlier. "Hey! You're gonna bruise my beautiful arms, ya know!"

"I'm aiming to."

He scoffs. He's quiet for a moment. Then he daringly says, "I bet Tsumi wouldn't do this to me."

You slam on the brakes.

You peer out the window and it looks like you're near a motel. You drag his ass out of the car and book the two of you a room at the front desk before dragging him to said room.

He smirks. "Little mini vacation? Is that what's going on right now?"

"Get undressed." You demand.

He licks his lips at the sudden order. Though caught off guard by this random excursion of yours, he goes along with it. "Yes ma'am." He starts to strip and for a moment, you get distracted by the ripple of his muscles tight against his body. Then when he's fully naked in front of you, you back him towards the bed. He allows you to, thinking you're here to reward his bad behavior. You're not.

You pull out some handcuffs and shackle him to the bed frame, to his surprise. You start to walk away and the smirk drops from his face as he starts to think that maybe you're going to leave him here in some random motel on the side of the road.

"Hey! Hey wait! Baby, where are you going? Baby, talk to me! You can't leave me here!"

You tsk at him, waving a finger in front of his face. "Be a good boy and sit still, I'll be right back." You tighten his cuffs, sending a slight jolt of pain into his wrists. He gulps.

You leave the room and go grab some things from the car.

When you come back you wrap a blindfold around him and he flinches.

"Wh-what's going on? Baby?" He asks, uncertain for the first time all day.

You nuzzle against his ear and bite the lobe, pulling slightly. He inhales sharply. "I'm going to teach you to behave yourself." You say in a low growl. He shivers.

You pull your whip out and start running it up one of his calves. His breath hitches in his throat. You wrap a hand around his throat, applying slight pressure around it. Before he can get used to the sensation, you drag the whip up and slap it down on his thigh. He gasps at the little taste of pain that's searing his leg, but you know he loves it.

"Tell me... does Tsumi make you feel like this?" You whisper in his ear, this time licking up the curve of it.

He swallows. "N-no baby... only you do." His words are meek and they sound so delicious to you.

"That's a good boy." You whip his other thigh and he groans this time, his cock engorging at the feeling. You lightly drag the whip across his dick, causing it to twitch. He lifts his hips and arches into it, wanting more.

"You want this baby?" You start to drag the whip up his defined abdomen and across his chest. He nods quickly. You smirk at his eagerness. You run the whip down the length of his arm and flick it hard against his forearm.

He groans and bites his lip.

You pull on his bottom lip, and his teeth release it. "No biting, love. That's just for me." You lean forward and bite his lower lip, tugging on it gently before releasing.

"Fuck." He whispers.

"Watch your language baby. I might just have to punish you for that."

"So punish me," He says, breathless.

You lick your lips at his pleading. The sight of him laid bare for you, desperate for your attention, was such a pretty picture. The Vice Captain of the Third Division, all flushed and panting, precum seeping from his throbbing cock. All because you touched him a little.

You thought you'd reward him a little. You trace your tongue up his thigh, lapping at the red welt on his skin. He throws his head back against the bedframe, soaking in the feeling of your wetness on his skin. You grab his balls in one hand and squeeze as you drag your tongue up the length of his bulging erection. You nip at his tip a little and then, before he can react, you deep throat him.

He hits the back of your throat and he inhales sharply. Your mouth tightens around him, coating him thoroughly in your saliva as you suck harder. Then, right as he thinks he might cum, you pull back. He swears and you almost laugh. His legs are shaking now and he bucks at the air, trying to get some relief. You press two hands down tightly on his thighs, shoving him back into the mattress.

"Not yet. You cum when I say you can. Got that?"

He whimpers as more precum trickles out of him.

You place a cock ring at his base and he groans. "You're going to tease the shit out of me until I'm begging for it, huh?"

"You got that right baby."

You click a leash around his neck and uncuff him from the bed. You tug on the leash, pulling him towards you and meeting his lips for a sloppy kiss. Then you withdraw from him, leaving him hungry for more, and you push him down flat against the bedsheets.

He tries to get up, reaching for your face to snag another kiss, but you shove him back down. "Such a bad boy. You only do what I tell you to, got that?" You flick the whip at his thigh again.

He shudders. "Yes baby. Anything you say baby."

Then you pull out your prostate massager and, after lubing it up thoroughly, you slowly side it inside him causing him to gasp. Then you turn it on to a low setting and watch as he twitches, moans escaping his beautiful lips.

"I'm not done with you yet love." While that's running, you grab a vibrating wand and turn it on. It rumbles against the base of his cock, causing him to tremble.

"Fuck." He whimpers.

"What did I say about your language baby? Seems someone hasn't learned their lesson." You turn the settings up on the wand and trace it up his length, earning another groan from him. His precum starts to pump ferociously as the wand reaches his tip. He's starting to overload, unable to keep up with the vibrations coming from both ends of him. He can't tell if he should focus more on the delicious pressure up against his prostate or the rumbling across his dripping tip.

"Now, tell me again. What is Tsumi to you?"

"Nothing. She's nothing." He gasps out.

"And what am I?"

"Everything. You're everything baby." His moans come out low and guttural.

"Good boy. Now tell me, are you going to run away from me again? You know we've got important work to be doing at the Third Division."

He bites his lip.

You sigh. "I see. Still haven't learned your lesson then. Alright, I can go at this all night, let's see how much you can take."

You turn the settings up to max on both devices.

He jolts so quickly he chokes on his spit, the saliva drizzling down his chin, as he clenches the sheets hard. "B-baby! B-baby, p-please!" His words are frantic as they stumble out of his mouth. He chokes back a sob as you press the wand harder against him.

"Th-that's t-too m-much... ah fuck!"

He ejaculates wildly, his hips bucking from the sheer force of it, as hot milky cum spurts out of him in erratic bursts, dousing you. He's still shuddering from his violent orgasm when you've finally turned off the toys and pulled them away from him.

His breathing is ragged and shaky, and sweat from his forehead starts to trickle down and cloud his view.

"S-so we're all good now, r-right?" He asks weakly.

You smirk at him, feeling smug.

"For now."

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.20. EPILOGUE

"you deserve a good life i hope we stay together i want this to last forever"

from a good life by eyedress, left in okayama, japan

CONTENT WARNING: a little suggestive :)

her breathing slows the moment she sees him.

he’s pushing his way past a group of men, lines forming at the corners of his hooded eyes as he gives them a smile and nod before he's making his way towards her again. 

he looks a little funny in his formal wear. she knows he hates it, and has probably been tugging at his stuffy collar all day. but it’s the same collar she grabs when he’s close enough, pulling him down to her level and crashing her lips against his.

his hands immediately find their way onto her body, roaming maybe a little more than they should in a room full of important people and coworkers, but that’s never mattered much to them. they’re acting like they haven’t seen each other in months, when in reality they woke up in the same bed this morning, legs entangled and hands intertwined even in their sleep.

“took you long enough,” she teases. she’s holding him close, her hand still fisted around his collar and she’s looking up into his eyes as he stares back down at her, a stupid grin on his face.

“i made it and i found you, didn’t i? that’s all that matters,” he shrugs before he looks behind her, standing back up straight as his face drops.

she turns her head to see what he’s looking at and smiles sheepishly when she makes eye contact with her best friend, his face covered by a mask as he looks at them in disgust. “in the middle of an entire crowd? really?” he says in disbelief, shaking his head as he walks closer and she removes her hand from rintaro.

neither of them have an excuse, so they only apologize to him in unison before he sighs. 

“should we go find osamu?” rintaro asks now that the three of them are together.

she nods, walking forward and taking lead of the group as they start to push through the crowds again, “he should be ready by now. or we’ll just bother him if he’s not.”

she waves to the people she knows and smiles at the ones she’s only seen in passing, trying to be polite. her status in the place has come in equal parts from her job and relationship with rintaro. in her last year of college, she'd decided to look into jobs within the sports industry. pulling in favors from old contacts, she had landed a job in publicity and taking photos of sporting events, along with akaashi. under kuroo’s management, they both followed multiple volleyball games. she tried her best to stay with rintaro’s team and akaashi often stayed with bokuto’s team.

when she had the time, she’d pick up a few portrait requests to keep things from getting mundane, although that was impossible anyway with rintaro in her life. they were nearly inseparable; you could always find them at each other's side. even as they tried to navigate through the party they were at now, he eventually caught up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep them from getting separated while omi followed behind them.

they’d get stopped by old faces she hadn’t seen in years and new faces she’d never seen, but that rintaro apparently knew. he’d introduce her as her wife, and sometimes the name still got to her. she’d feel her ears burn as he reached down to hold her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze and rub his thumb across the wedding ring adorning her finger–a habit he had picked up and would likely never get rid of.

really, he’d been by her side for longer than just in these past few years. she’d been at his side since they were high schoolers, through the small lunch boxes she made for the four boys she had known closest then, and he was by her side through all of college. he was by her side watching her develop photos, listening to the stories behind them, and her stressors. then, they had been by each other sides officially the moment they had put that heart lock on that fence; a mark that would last longer than the both of them, even into their next life, where they’d find each other once more and fall in love with each other all over again.

prev. | m.list

extras <3

that's a wrap ? ! ?

most likely a few bonuses! which i will continue to tag people for but just dm me if you don't want to be tagged for them <3

i think this is obvious, i tried to explain it a little bit in the written part but y/n did end up going into sports photography again!! she kind of missed it and thought it'd be fun to work closely with rintaro <3

idk what else to say! love notes is my child i will love her forever :) i hope you all enjoyed reading!

mbb and inked references always!!

taglist: @0moonii @iluvmang @bluebeanbee @wyrcan @oyasumeii @zumicho @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @eggyrocks @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 @wolffmaiden @rockleeisbaeeee @toges-cough-syrup @cnnmairoll @ryeyeyer @hibernatinghamster @localgaytrainwreck @lemonocity @bows4life @sereniteav @madiexuberant @eclecticeggknightpsychic @phoenix-eclipses @sonicsolos @httpakkeiji @brkfclub @snail-squasher @starry-magicshop @cr4yolaas @kitnootkat @zzzlevislothzzz @iluv-ace @iluvaquaphor @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @applepi25 @twiishaa @girlkissersco @sleepystrwbrryy @encrypta

[mononijikayu]

chapter (6) — white christmas.

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, actors/singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 5k words.

NOTE: i wrote too much stuff and now i have to deal with having to format them the way i want,,,,honestly i like making it look nice that i end up staring at it and asking, is this enough??? is this pretty enough??? anyway, i hope you love it anyway!!! i love you all!!! 🫶

TAGLIST: @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @v3nd3ttal3on, @r0ckst4rjk, @theshxaverse, @cheescakebroom, @kariatenoh, @ggukfikz, @sukunadckrider ;

masterlist

hey lover! series

IT WAS THE MOMENT YOU WAITED FOR. Everything about this moment was nothing short of surreal. New York was alive that evening, with golden streetlights reflecting off icy cobblestones and the soft glow of shop windows illuminating bustling passersby.

That was when he arrived. Ryomen Sukuna, effortlessly imposing and enigmatic, stepping into the theater with his usual air of otherworldly power.

His presence was magnetic, and it only took moments before cell phones came out, capturing the sight of the infamous veteran actor as he entered the venue.

You’d already felt your heart flutter when you spotted him backstage earlier that week. He had promised you that he would see your first show on Broadway a while back, since you told him how excited you were about this role. It's why you auditioned.

He was much busier than you this time around. And that concerned you, because you didn't want him to overwhem himself. After all, he was your senpai, a star beloved by the masses. That's why he was so sought after. That's why he was booked day after day.

He still has shows to rehearse for, since he'll be performing for the Christmas special back in Japan and then after that, the New Year countdown live show. And then after that, he was going to start filming for his new limited TV show.

But he kept reassuring you that he'll come over and see your opening night. One way or another, he will show up. That's what he said. And so, it immediately relieved your nerves when your co-star and fellow lead rushed to you at the make up chair.

"Sukuna's here." He grinned at you, fixing his hair.

You looked at him, eyes widened. "Are you sure? You......you saw him?"

"Yeah! He's just about to get into his audience box!"

You looked away from him, feeling your cheeks flustered.

You have to do your best more than ever now.

Ryomen Sukuna had come to see your play— for the play debut you had worked tirelessly to bring to life. And that made you happy. You were happy to give him a good story, a good play.

The weeks leading up to this night had been a whirlwind of rehearsals, final script revisions, costume fittings, and late nights spent memorizing lines and perfecting every movement.

There had barely been a moment to breathe as you pushed yourself through every obstacle in preparation for your debut on Broadway. Every night, without fail, you found yourself texting him about it.

The stress, the excitement, the fear of not being enough—it all spilled out in small, quick messages. He never left you on read, not one single time. Every single night, without fail, he’d reply.

Sometimes it was just a simple word, an encouragement, or a reminder that you were more than capable. But by the end of every night, his voice would come through the phone, calm and steady, grounding you like nothing else could.

His calls became a kind of ritual. You could feel his presence even through the static, even through the miles that separated you. His voice was always soft, always tender, and when he spoke, you could feel the weight of his words settling into your chest like a promise.

“You’ll do great,” he told you on one of those nights, his voice smooth and low, a soothing balm to your restless thoughts. “Don’t worry, they’ll end up loving it.”

You let his words linger for a moment, the warmth in his voice washing away the tension in your shoulders.

“Will you love it?” you asked, your voice so small, so uncertain, that it felt vulnerable even as you spoke.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. His laugh came then—low, soft, and effortlessly sweet. You could hear the smile in his voice, even through the distance.

“Doll, I love everything you put your heart in.” he said, his words wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. “I don’t think I’ll end up with any other outcome.”

You huffed, a mixture of frustration and shyness. “Ugh, you’re only saying that because you’ve become biased about me, darling.”

Another chuckle from him. It sent a wave of ease through you, despite your nerves. “Who cares about that, doll? I know you got the talent for me to even be biased about it in the first place.”

His words hit you harder than you thought they would. There was no judgment, no expectation, just faith. Faith in you, in your work, in your effort. The confidence in his voice made you feel a little stronger, a little braver, like maybe you could pull this off.

It felt so simple, yet so profound.

You stayed on the line for a few minutes, the two of you talking about everything and nothing at all. His laughter, his voice, and his words swam in your mind as you lay in bed.

And just like that, you had his faith, his belief, his warmth. You knew that no matter how this night unfolded, you’d remember his words.

Because that’s how he always made you feel—seen, supported, and capable. And as you prepared for tonight, you knew you could trust him. His voice stayed with you, that tender reassurance playing on repeat:

You’ll do great. You always will.

You had imagined every possibility for your opening night: the applause, the critics, the satisfaction of stepping into the spotlight after years of dedication. But nothing could have prepared you for him. Nothing prepares you when it comes to Ryomen Sukuna.

When you spotted his figure standing in the theater lobby just before the show, you felt an electric jolt run through you. Ryomen Sukuna sat there with his sharp features, his crimson eyes gleaming under the soft theater lights.

His presence was as commanding as expected, but there was something about the way he stood, observing, that sent an unfamiliar, inexplicable thrill through you.

You could only guess at his expectations. Had he come to witness the performance with a critical eye? Or was it curiosity that brought him here? Perhaps both. His expression was unreadable, and that only made your curiosity deepen.

He wasn’t just here for the play, you were sure of that. There was something in his gaze, something unspoken, that lingered in the air between the two of you. The moment your eyes met, a wave of something intangible passed through you.

It was too fleeting to name, but powerful all the same. It was a kind of tension that wasn’t rooted in animosity or fear, but in unspoken understanding, something far more subtle and layered.

When you had met him for the first time, you’d thought you could predict his actions, analyze him as easily as anyone else. But standing there, mere steps from him, you found that he eluded even your sharpest instincts.

His presence wasn’t merely intimidating or menacing; it was magnetic, and the pull was unexpected. He took your breath away. He was just....he was too much. He was an enigma you that overwhelmed you like the echo of heavy waves in the seas.

You’d tried to brush it off as nerves, but it lingered: the sharp way he looked at you, the casual smirk he gave as he adjusted the sleeve of his jacket, the way his crimson eyes seemed to pierce through you without effort.

Every interaction felt layered with weight—too much history, too many unspoken questions. That was just what it was between the two of you. Too much knowledge and too much left unknown.

You wondered if he could sense your hesitancy, your curiosity, the way your mind struggled to put him into a box that simply didn’t fit. But what was it? You weren’t sure.

Sukuna watched the play with unwavering focus, his crimson eyes sharp and piercing as they followed every movement, every word, every moment of your performance.

His gaze was intense, never wavering, and it felt like an invisible thread connecting him to you. Each time you caught his eyes from across the stage, you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, sending goosebumps across your skin.

The way his gaze seemed to follow you, darting from every movement to every line, made your heart twist in your chest. You could feel it—his attention, deliberate and unyielding.

It was like an unspoken connection only the two of you shared. And every time you noticed, that cold, tingling feeling ran down your spine, sending a shiver you couldn’t control.

By the time the final scene closed and the applause roared through the theater, you found yourself trying to shake off the lingering sensation of his scarlet gaze.

You stepped off the stage, your heart pounding as you navigated through the backstage chaos. It was surreal—the lights, the cheers, the voices, and yet, there was only one thing on your mind: him.

You headed toward your dressing room, the sound of footsteps behind you pulling you from your thoughts. And there he was—waiting for you, casually leaning against the wall just a few steps from your door.

His tall frame was a commanding presence in the dim light, his crimson eyes glinting faintly as they met yours. A grin tugged at his lips as soon as he saw you. His smirk was sharp, confident, and unmistakably him.

“You did well, doll.” he said smoothly, his voice low and warm, cutting through the noise of your swirling thoughts.

Your chest tightened at the sound of his words. There was no teasing, no hidden edge in his tone. Just pure acknowledgment. You felt the weight of his gaze as he looked at you, and all the tension you didn’t even realize you were holding melted away.

“Thank you, darling.” you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended. Your hands clutched at your coat nervously as you tried to steady your breath. "Happy that you could make it."

"You know I would have always come." He snickers at you.

You sighed. "I know, I know but with you schedule—"

"Heh, like that would have prevented me from coming here, doll."

"Yeah, yeah. You've proven yourself." You roll your eyes playfully, a smile playing at your lips.

His grin widened, a flicker of pride and satisfaction in his expression. He walks over to you and stands in front of you, his height overtaking you with the air of his existence occupying your space.

“You’ve got the kind of presence that can steal a crowd, doll.” he added, taking a step closer. “I knew you’d pull through, but… now I’m glad to see you proved it for yourself.”

His words lingered, and you could feel his warmth beside you, so close and steady. His presence felt grounding, familiar. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, a genuine one this time.

“Thank you, really.” you said again, your voice a little stronger, a little lighter.

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t say much else as he stood there, but you didn’t mind. His grin, his words, and his quiet presence said everything you needed to hear.

The way he looked at you, completely assured, confident, and proud— it had made you feel like maybe you could do this again, every night, without hesitation.

He pushed himself off the wall, taking a step back as you unlocked the door to your dressing room, his grin still lingering on his lips.

“Rest for a bit, doll.” he said, his voice one last whisper as you stepped inside. "I'll pick you up in a bit, so I could treat you to dinner."

"Hm, okay." You say bashfully in reply.

He smiles at you, patting your head. You protest, but he didn't care about that. With that, he turns around and soon was gone, leaving you standing in the soft glow of your dressing room lights. You took a deep breath, replaying his words in your mind.

You did well, doll.

It felt like more than just a compliment. It felt like trust, belief, and connection. And as you settled into your post-performance routine, you let his words settle into your bones.

➽──────────❥

YOU HAD GOTTEN OUT A FEW MINUTES LATER. He waited for you discreetly, just by his rental car. The beautifully sleek black vehicle glistened under the glow of the nearby streetlights as he leaned casually against it.

His hands buried in his coat pockets, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He looked effortlessly composed, a sharp contrast to the whirlwind of emotions still tugging at you from the night’s performance.

When you and your co-star approached out the back doors, Ryomen Sukuna had come towards you and offered a simple, smooth smile, his presence as striking as ever.

“You did well out there.” he said, his voice low but clear. His words carried an air of finality, confidence, and understanding.

Your co-star nodded in agreement, smiling warmly. “You really did. Congratulations.”

You exchanged farewells with your co-star, who headed off toward the direction of the subway, leaving only you and Sukuna in the quiet of the night.

His gaze flicked toward you as you approached the car, his smirk growing a little wider as he followed you. You waited before he opened the door. You climbed into the passenger seat as he closed the door behind you. He soon followed soon after you.

The sound of the engine hummed to life as he pressed the key into the slot. You carefully buckled your seatbelt, the vibration of the car giving you an unexpected sense of comfort. Sukuna’s voice broke the stillness, smooth and casual, as he glanced at you briefly.

“What does our new rising Broadway star want for dinner?” he asked, his tone playful as he shifted the gear into drive.

You raised a sly brow at him, a teasing smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “Is the famed veteran star of Japan willing to pay for it, no matter how expensive?”

He let out a sharp, amused snicker, his confidence as steady as his grip on the wheel. “Doll, my black card demands that. Especially for you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his confidence, the sound light and warm as it filled the cabin of the car. His smirk grew as he caught your reaction, and you knew he enjoyed your teasing just as much as you enjoyed his effortless charm.

“Alright, alright.” you said, leaning back against your seat. “Let’s go for steak, darling.”

His grin widened as he glanced at you once more, his voice dropping into a playful purr. “Good choice, doll. I know the perfect spot.”

With that, the car sped off into the soft glow of the New York streets, the hum of the engine and the city lights weaving into the rhythm of the marvelous echo of the evening.

The two of you, alone together, felt oddly peaceful amidst the excitement of the night. And as you settled into the smooth, quiet ride, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something thrilling.

The city passed by in streaks of light as the car glided over the smooth pavement. The glow of streetlights, the headlights of other cars, and the occasional silhouette of a passerby added to the rhythm of the city.

The air outside was crisp and cool, but inside the car, there was only the low hum of the engine and the sound of Ryomen Sukuna’s steady voice as he drove with expert ease.

You found yourself stealing glances at him as he focused on the winding New York road. He was a very beautiful man. You've always known that. But whenever he was this close, it makes you feel things.

Everything from his bright scarlet eyes, strong jaw, his sharp features, they were just beyond perfect. Even more so as they were illuminated by the glow of the city lights and the car's dashboard.

His confidence was palpable, as always, but there was something about the way he handled himself so effortlessly that made you feel both calm and entirely at ease.

“You know, darling.” you started, breaking the comfortable silence, “You never really told me why you decided to come tonight.”

His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel as he glanced at you briefly. His crimson eyes, glowing faintly, seemed thoughtful as he answered smoothly.

“I told you, doll. You did well. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I promised you, didn't I?"

You gave him a pointed look, smirking. “That’s all?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as if amused by your insistence. “Alright, fine. I’ll admit it, doll.” he said, glancing at you again with a teasing grin. “I wanted to see you.”

Your heart stumbled a little at his admission, and you felt your cheeks flush as you tried to act nonchalant. You looked away, trying to avoid having him see you this red. But you knew from the side, he was slyly snickering off the side.

“See me?” you asked, your voice coming out a bit higher than you intended.

“Yeah.” he said with a shrug, his grin sharp but warm. “You’ve got talent, doll. You’ve got heart. And you’ve got a fire about you that draws attention. I’ve been watching from the sidelines, and I wanted to be here to see how far you could push that. You’re even better than I thought.”

You stared at him, unsure whether you should feel overwhelmed, flattered, or nervous. His words lingered, and despite his casual tone, they felt genuine. You shifted in your seat, trying to come up with something witty or confident to say but found yourself momentarily speechless.

"I was just going to make a joke about how you missed me, darling." You say to him. "Didn't expect you to be so passionate about what I do."

"Well doll, it's just as true." He whispers back to you, stopping as the signal lights turned from green to red. He looks at you. "I missed you as much as I'm passionate about you."

“Thank you.” you managed, the word barely above a whisper. You could feel the heat on your ears.

He snickered again, glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “Don’t thank me yet, doll. I haven’t bought you dinner yet.”

"This better be the best steak you've ever bought for me."

He laughs. "Doll, I'd never give you subpar. I have more class than that."

You laughed at that, the tension in your shoulders easing as you allowed his words to wash over you. You could feel how he was so effortlessly playful, so at ease, and it brought a strange kind of calmness to your own nerves.

The car ride continued smoothly, the warm light of the headlights illuminating the road as you headed toward the steakhouse. It wasn’t too far, but the ride felt long enough to let you sink into your thoughts.

It wasn’t every day you found yourself in a car with someone like Sukuna, who felt both a mystery and a steady presence, someone so sharp and confident but somehow so easy to connect with.

When you finally arrived at the steakhouse, the scent of grilled meat, butter, and warm bread greeted you as you stepped inside. The place was cozy—dimly lit, with wooden tables and that unmistakable warmth that comes with a good steakhouse.

Ryomen Sukuna held one side of the double doors for you. You thanked him as you walked in, the sound of conversation and the soft clink of cutlery in the background creating the perfect ambiance.

You both settled into a booth near the corner, the soft lighting casting golden hues over the table. The waiter came quickly, and Sukuna ordered a bottle of red wine before either of you even looked at the menu.

"This is seems a lot fancy, darling." You tell him, looking at the menu.

“Trust me, doll.” he said with that sly grin of his. “You’re about to have the best steak of your life.”

You laughed and leaned back in your seat, finally letting yourself relax as the evening unfolded. "Hm, I trust you on that."

There was something about this moment. Well, there always was something, when it came to the two of you. But the quiet confidence of Sukuna, his sharp smirk, his steady presence beside you. It touched you. It felt easy, and yet entirely special.

You knew that tonight was more than just dinner. It was more than the show. This night felt like the beginning of something—something that neither of you could quite put into words, but both of you understood.

You could feel it in the air between you, the kind of tension that wasn’t just about attraction or charm but about connection—raw, unspoken, and lingering.

And as the wine was poured and the first course was set in front of you, you couldn’t help but smile. Steak, wine, and Sukuna beside you. You couldn’t ask for much more.

But then as the dinner came to a close, you halted.

The pile of snow stood stagnantly before you.

Ryomen Sukuna walked beside you, confused.

Your coat tight against your shoulders, the chill biting but exhilarating. You could feel his eyes looking at you. Without thinking, you scooped a handful of fresh snow and hurled it at him, sending a quick, breathless laugh into the cold air as you darted away.

You could almost feel Sukuna’s amused gaze on you as you ran. He wasn’t used to being ambushed, let alone caught in this kind of innocent joy.

But you knew he wouldn’t let you get away so easily. Moments later, he was on the move, gathering snow like a warlord preparing for battle. His voice, low and teasing, cut through the sound of your laughter:

"You can't escape, doll!"

The snowball fight that ensued felt like something out of a dream—a collision of laughter, warm breaths, and soft snow. His smirk was devilish, his steps purposeful and graceful as he advanced on you.

But he shouldn't underestimate you too. You always managed to stay one step ahead. His hands closed around fresh snow, and for a moment, you thought he would truly strike, but he hesitated, his laughter soft, rare, and genuine.

The way he looked at you in that moment, half-teasing, half-mischievous, it had made your chest tighten. This wasn’t just a playful moment.

It was a glimpse into the layers of Ryomen Sukuna, the man who could be cold, terrifying, and confident yet here he was: smiling, laughing, living in the moment with you. And only you.

➽──────────❥

BY THE TIME YOU FINISHED, YOU WERE EXHAUSTED. Ryomen Sukuna had pelted you with quite a few heavy snow balls, which had caused you to freak out. It was already cold, but the snow balls were even colder. But that was jsut how it was. All is fair when it comes to a snow ball fight.

But you had not expected that Sukuna had managed to capture quite a fair bit of it on camera. And you were surprised about that. When he sent the video to you, you couldn't stop laughing. You were afraid you had peed yourself at one point.

And Sukuna had tried to calm you down as you both sat eating some hotdogs inside the car. But it was in vein as you had laughed so much again that you were crying. It had made your night even more complete than it already was.

It was the perfect moment to share, and you knew it. So only moments after returning to your hotel, you posted a short clip from that playful encounter on your Twitter account, since you posted your behind the scenes for your play in Instagram.

In the clip, you’re breathless and smiling, snow smeared on your gloves, as you toss the snowball at him and sprint away. You were laughing soon after like a little witch.

Ryomen Sukuna is right behind you, shaking snow from his fuschia pink hair, his expression amused and still untouchably cool, even as the snow melted around him.

Your caption was short and sweet, a perfect balance of your joy and subtlety:

Post-show snowball fight with my biggest fan! ❄️✨ Thank you for seeing the play, @ItsRyoSuku!!! 💖

The response was instant. Fans flooded your comments with fire emojis, heart eyes, and the overwhelming enthusiasm only your followers could muster. Your phone buzzed like crazy as the notifications rolled in:

🔥💖💬 “OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS. IS THIS A DREAM???”

🔥💖💬 "UR KIDDING??? HE CAME TO WATCH Y/N'S DEBUT ON THEIR PLAY???"

🔥💖💬 "BRO HE LOOKS SO IN LOVE WHAT THE FUCKKKKK"

🔥💖💬 "may this sort of love find me cause omg???"

🔥💖💬 "the heart??? SAY SIKE RIGHT NOW???"

🔥💖💬 “THE CHEMISTRY?? I SHIP IT SO HARD.”

🔥💖💬 "GUYS WHERE'S THE CLIP OF THEM MEETING AT THE OUTSIDE OF THE THEATER???"

🔥💖💬 "boo i gotchu!!! [video link]

🔥💖💬 "they're so in love with each other oh my god its sick"

🔥💖💬 “I bet he could freeze the whole city with that smirk and still look cool doing it. 🥰”

You laughed as you scrolled through the endless barrage of messages before going to bed. Your followers and fans were always this energetic, but this time felt different. This was you and Sukuna. The iconic Ryomen Sukuna.

But then the notifications shifted to another familiar name—your cast members.

@MakiZenzzzz:

“Y/N, are you trying to melt New York with this post??? 😭 congrats on your play!!! rooting for you babes!!!❄️🔥”

@GojoSatoruuuuuu:

“Ohhh, this is definitely going to be a story. Be careful out there, @/RyoSuku looks like he might conjure a blizzard just for fun. 😉”

@ThisIsNanamiKento:

“This is so sweet. Excited for your play!!! And you really pulled off the snowball fight? Good for you. Hope you stayed warm. Stay cozy, Y/N!!!❄️”

The comments were pouring in like a symphony of support and teasing, and you couldn’t help but smile. But just when you thought the post couldn’t get any more iconic…

Ryomen Sukuna dropped his own response.

His post was cryptic, cool, and undeniably him. Alongside a stunning photo of himself standing stoically in the snow, his crimson eyes glowing faintly against the soft white backdrop, he wrote:

The play was decent. The snowball fight? Unfinished business. 🎭❄️ #NextTimeYouLose @/@TheOneY/N

You froze, staring at the caption, trying to decide whether to laugh, reply, or hide under your bed forever. The photo alone looked like a painting—he was sharp, elegant, the perfect embodiment of his unique brand of power and mystery.

Your fans were quick to dissect his words, of course.

💬 “OH MY GOD. HE JUST CHALLENGED Y/N AGAIN???”

💬 "are we just casually forgetting that he has to be back in tokyo today for his fansign but decided to come to see y/n and delayed his rest time for y/n???"

💬 "lord he yearns for y/n so bad this is killing me"

💬 "guys why can't yall be more like sukuna cause omg???"

💬 "bring back pathetic pining men omg </3"

💬 “Sukuna’s smirk could probably be a weapon in itself. 😩💥”

You knew you had to respond to that. There's no way you can't. You giggled as your fingers danced over your keyboard as you crafted your reply. With a sly grin, you typed:

“Oh, it’s on. I’ll bring my A-game next time. 🎯❄️ #UnfinishedBusiness”

You hit send, your heart racing. Within seconds, the comments and likes exploded.

🔥💬 “YESSSS! Y/N IS A QUEEN AND A FIGHTER!!!”

🔥💬 “We need a part two. I’m demanding a rematch. Let’s gooooo.”

🔥💬 "guys does this mean they're having dinner alone again soon omg???"

🔥💬 "sukuna liked that comment above me omg??? HE WANTS TO SEE Y/N AGAIN!!!"

🔥💬 "its crazy how we still don't know if they're dating or not"

🔥💬 "atp we're getting the confirmation when they already have a baby lol"

🔥💬 "just want them to get together so bad im ill"

🔥💬 “WAIT A MINUTE—are we going to get an actual snowball fight between them next time??”

It felt chaotic. Exciting. And you could feel the energy of your fans, castmates, and Sukuna swirling together. You leaned back into your pillow and laughed as you looked at the snow-covered streets visible from your window. The soft glow of the streetlights reflected off the snow, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world was wrapped in a kind of magic.

Then your phone buzzed.

You grabbed it from your bedside table, glancing at the name on the screen. Your heart gave a quick flutter when you saw it.

“Sukuna.”

You picked up and pressed it to your ear.

“Hey.”

His voice came through smoothly, deep and familiar.

“Hi, darling.” you said in return, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You already in the airport?”

“Mm, about to board for Tokyo.” he replied, his voice calm and steady. You could hear the faint sounds of announcements and distant footsteps in the background.

“I hope you get some sleep on the plane.” you said, your voice gentle. “You still have work tomorrow. I don't want your fans to be angry at me again for you being exhausted, darling."

“I’ll try.” he laughed lowly, that soft, warm sound that always managed to send a pleasant shiver through you. “But it doesn’t always happen, doll.”

You sighed, looking out at the glowing streets again, your heart warm. “Thank you for coming today,” you whispered, the words feeling fragile as they left your lips. “And... and for playing with me. Eating dinner and making me laugh too.”

There was a pause on the other end. A moment of stillness. You could feel his presence even through the phone, his gaze and attention focused solely on you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, doll.” he said softly, his voice a bit lower now, intimate and tender. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

His words lingered in the air for a moment, the sound of his voice so close, so comforting. The silence continued to rule the two of you for a few more seconds before you sighed.

“I’ll miss you already." you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

He chuckled, his tone warm. “I’ll miss you too. But you’ve got plenty to focus on here, don’t you? You’re a star now, doll. Keep shining.”

You smiled, unable to resist. “I’ll try my best.”

The conversation lingered, the sounds of the distant boarding calls coming through as you continued to talk—sharing words and laughter, even with the distance between you.

"Hey."

"Hm? What?"

"What... what are you doing on December 24th?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You could almost hear him processing the question. His voice came back after a moment, calm and steady.

"Nothing."

"Oh." You felt your face flush a little at how quick and simple his reply had been. Your voice stumbled as you tried to find the right words. "You see..."

"Are you asking me to have dinner with you, darling?"

His voice was sharp, teasing, but there was something warm in it too. You could almost picture his smirk as he spoke, his crimson eyes glinting like they always did when he was being a little too confident.

Your throat felt dry, and you hesitated, unsure of how to answer. His words made you nervous, but there was something about his tone—so assured, so comfortable—that only made you want to take the chance.

"Well..." you started, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought maybe you’d like to join me. If you’re free, of course."

Another pause. This one felt heavier, filled with a thousand unspoken thoughts. You couldn’t figure out whether he was considering it or just enjoying making you sweat.

His laughter broke the tension, low and smooth.

"Darling, you don’t have to ask me twice," he said, his voice dropping into that gentle purr you knew so well. "I’ll be there."

Your heart did a little leap.

"Really?" you asked, your voice brightening.

"Yeah." His voice was soft now, serious but still laced with warmth. "I’ll make time for you. December 24th, it’s a promise, okay?"

You could feel your cheeks warming further, but this time you allowed yourself to smile.

"Okay... it’s a promise between us then." you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

He chuckled again, and you could practically feel the smirk on his lips.

"Don’t act so surprised, doll." he teased. "You’ve got me wrapped around your finger already."

The line went quiet for a moment as the two of you stayed on together, and you felt your heart ease. Despite his teasing, his words had a kind of truth that you both had never truly discussed. Life was too busy. But you want to. You want to do it so badly. But not tonight. It's too early.

"Okay." you murmured, smiling to yourself. "I guess I’ll see you then."

His voice came back, soft and steady.

"I’ll be counting the days."

You found yourself staring at the snow once more. You felt lighter, happier, knowing that these moments—these fleeting bits of connection—were yours, even if they only came in small doses.

"Plane's about to board now."

"Okay."

You could feel him smile from across the phone. "Go get some sleep. I'll text you when I land, okay? Good night, doll."

“Safe travels, darling. Good night.” you whispered before hanging up.

And as you set your phone down, you allowed yourself to smile once again, knowing that this night had truly been magical in every way. By the next morning, you had a good long sleep and were ready for the next performance. And it was a hit.

[gingacat]

my third Yuu!!

(yes....... i actually tried to draw her in twst style 🤯)

personality, background and trivia under the cut!!

Personality

Ameyuki is a very gentle girl. She's more soft-spoken and calm than Miyuu, but also presents a calculating side.

Ame is a person who's careful with things and objects since she believes everything has a life (kinda like Toy Story). She has a nurturing nature and is overall really sweet and docile when she takes a liking to something or someone.

However, she has a tendency to see people as dolls and treat them like so.

As a kid, for example, she would incite fights between her classmates as if they were her dolls and she was playing with them, and afterwards would mediate the fight and help the classmates conciliate, just like she would do with her own dolls.

Now that she's older, she doesn't do that anymore, but is very aware of how she could easily manipulate and control people. Ame is careful and gentle because she associates the fragility of porcelain dolls to the feelings of people, and just like she wouldn't ever want to hurt or break a doll, the same applies to people.

Just like Ame would always take care of her dolls, she does the same to people. When she sees someone hurt, she'll always tend to them and take care of their injuries (if allowed of course). She even got to actually learn first aid because she doesn't want to see Miyuu nor the other students hurt.

Background

Ameyuki was born in the Chūgoku region of Japan, more specifically in Shimane, but was raised in Osaka.

Ame's mother, Matsuko, is the Prime Minister of Japan, while Ame's father, Daijirō, is a conman that made a living out of scamming people.

Ameyuki was raised by her father and never had any type of contact with her mother — and wasn't even aware of Matsuko's existence.

Being raised by a conman, Ameyuki was exposed to not the most ethical situations, especially when watching the relationships her father would establish with people. He would trick them, lie to them, control and manipulate them as if they were merely pieces of his Chess game.

But as an innocent kid, Ame's father was her hero. She loved Daijirō and every time he came back home, she would be scared that he would be hurt. Ame always worried for his well being, after all, he was involved with dangerous people. And she wasn't aware that he was dangerous too, and that all the things he did were actually hurting others.

But he would come back home, and everytime he did, he would bring a doll for her. Everyday, a new doll would be added to Ame's collection — and she loved all of them.

Despite being allowed to go to school, she wasn't allowed to go anywhere else on her own — not only because Daijirō's enemies could kidnap and hurt her, but also because she held value. After all, she is the daughter of the Prime Minister and Ame wasn't meant to be born. Because of this, Matsuko would do anything in order not to let Ameyuki's existence become public. This means that, well, Daijirō had control over the Prime Minister solely because of Ameyuki.

The only thing Ameyuki had to do in her house was playing with her dolls. It wasn't a problem for her, since she loved playing with them and the imaginary world of her dolls was real to her. Each of the dolls had a name and Ame loved them so much that she learned to make clothes for them. Sometimes she would sew little dresses, other times shirts, skirts, pants, and even make little shoes with materials she had at home. Ame would wash their hair, clean them so that they wouldn't get dusty and incredibly enough she also built a dollhouse alone (she had too much free time in her hands).

Unconsciously though, Ame would replicate her father's manipulative and controlling behavior with the dolls. Because the dolls were her friends, but it was Ame who would control them and decide everything about them, varying from the way they behaved to even their names or looks. And it got much worse, since before even realizing, Ame was already associating real life people to dolls too. She could control them and play with them — but they were frail, so she had to be careful not to break them.

Eventually, at the age of 17, Ameyuki found out she had three younger brothers that shared the same father as her, but the mother apparently was different. Her brothers seemed to live in an orphanage, which means that Daijirō probably had abandoned them (and the state of their mother was unknown). This broke Ame's heart and she snuck out of her house to meet her brothers despite not knowing the consequences, because her heart spoke louder.

When she arrived at the front of the orphanage, just as she saw three figures of what seemed to be a 13 year old, an 11 year old and an 8 year old boy, she was abruptly run over and lost her consciousness.

Trivia

Ameyuki: Ame (雨) means "rain" and yuki (雪) means "snow".

Amayado: Ama (天) means "sky, heaven", ya (谷) means "valley" and do (奴) "guy, fellow".

Her given names: Iridescent Shark (Floyd), Mademoiselle Pluie (Rook), Ame-san (Miyuu), Second Henchman (Grim)

Ame and Pluie mean "rain", and it is supposed to symbolize gentleness, but also carries a melancholy within.

Similarities she share with Miyuu: both of them speak in Kansai dialect, and both of them were raised by their fathers only.

Ame is scared to death of insects.

Her favorite animals are cows and horses, and she has this silly dream of owning a farm so that she could take care of the animals.

Her favorite club to visit is definitely the Equestrian Club.

Before going to Twisted Wonderland, she was considering becoming a nurse when older. (She's practically one now)

She has a tendency to only call people by their last names. Not only because it's more polite, but it's her way of replicating her father's behavior.

With Silver she doesn't have a choice, because he doesn't have a last name. 💀

Her favorite board game is Shogi and she taught it to the members of the Board Game Club.

tagging @moonyasnow @gimmeurmoneyagh @day-dr3aming

if anyone else wants to be tagged in my posts, pls let me know!!