#exchangestudent!reader

[heyaheiya]

Katsuki is an academic weapon. Everyone knows that. However, the one subject he lacks in is English. Luckily, his amazing girlfriend is from an English speaking country! Only problem is you have God awful handwriting.

"What the fuck is that supposed to say??" He grumbles.

You look back at the whiteboard behind you, squinting trying to make out what you wrote a maximum of 20 seconds ago. In primary school it was engraved into your head to connect your letters together, else that bitch Ms. Smith would yell at you infront of the whole class. Traumatic.

"Umm, 'I like ice cream'. I think.."

Katsuki deadpans; to him, you just drew a squiggly line. "You're fucking with me, aren't you."

"No! It's cursive."

"It's fucking ugly."

"You're ugly."

"Just write the way Present Mic taught us!"

You roll your eyes at the massive baby, then try your hardest to write in non cursive.

...

"Are you dyslexic or some shit."

"FUCK YOU!"

[loves-n-kisses]

Hai :>

I would like to request a Katsuki fic if it’s not too much trouble.

Katsuki x the foreign exchange student from America. She knows Japanese really well but still uses English (like simultaneously switches between the languages).

Katsuki didn’t think too much of it until the reader was having a late night conversation with Shoto in the common room in English. (I head canon that he knows English)

So katsuki gets jealous and when he finds shoto alone, he tells him to back off the reader but shoto offers to help him with his English. Now Katsuki surprises the reader by joining a conversation she’s having in English.

I hope that all makes sense

OMG I LOVE THIS ONE I GOT TO WORK IMMEDIATELY. I typed in what I wanted to say into a English to Japanese translator and pasted it. I am not fluent in Japanese.

Blasting Through Barriers: Katsuki x ExchangeStudent!Reader

A story where Bakugou breaks--or rather, blasts through the language barriers separating you two.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The common room of U.A.’s dorms was quiet, save for the soft hum of the vending machine and the occasional creak of the couch. It was late, past curfew, but you, the American exchange student, never cared much for rules when there was a good conversation to be had. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a can of soda in hand, chatting with Shoto Todoroki. The topic? Some American movie you’d both seen, and you were animatedly switching between Japanese and English without missing a beat.

��ほんとに、that scene where the hero just explodes into action? めっちゃ cool, right?” you said, grinning. Your Japanese was near flawless, but English slipped out naturally, like it was part of your rhythm.

Shoto nodded, his calm voice steady in English. “Yeah, the pacing was perfect. The director knew how to build tension.” His accent was slight, polished from years of private tutors.

From the shadows of the hallway, Katsuki Bakugou lingered, arms crossed, jaw tight. He’d come down for a glass of water, not expecting to find you here, laughing with Icy-Hot of all people. Katsuki didn’t care about you. Not really. You were just some loud, annoying exchange student who’d shown up a month ago, always mixing languages like you owned the place. Your Japanese was so good it pissed him off—made him feel like you didn’t even need to be here, learning hero work with them. But hearing you speak English with Shoto, so effortlessly, so familiarly? That hit different.

He didn’t understand half of what you were saying—English wasn’t his strong suit—but the way Shoto leaned in, actually engaging, made Katsuki’s blood boil. Why was he the one you were talking to like that? Katsuki gritted his teeth and stormed off, vowing to deal with this later.

The next day, Katsuki cornered Shoto in the training gym, slamming a hand against the wall beside him. “Oi, Icy-Hot. Back off,” he growled, eyes blazing. “I see you cozying up with the exchange student. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Shoto blinked, unfazed. “You mean Y/N? We were just talking.” He tilted his head, studying Katsuki’s scowl. “You’re jealous.”

“Like hell I am!” Katsuki snapped, but his red ears betrayed him. “She’s just… annoying, okay? And you don’t need to be all buddy-buddy with her in freaking English.”

Shoto’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “If you want to talk to her, you could try English yourself. She likes it when people meet her halfway.” He paused, then added, “I could help you. With the language.”

Katsuki’s first instinct was to tell Shoto to shove it, but the image of you laughing with someone else—not him—burned in his mind. He grit his teeth. “Fine. But if you tell anyone, you’re dead.”

For the next week, Shoto quietly coached Katsuki in the basics: common phrases, pronunciation, even some slang you used. Katsuki was a quick learner when he wanted to be, though he’d never admit how much he practiced saying “yo, what’s up?” in his dorm room mirror.

A few nights later, you were in the common room again, this time chatting with Mina and Kirishima. Your voice danced between languages as you described some American festival. “It’s like, 超 fun, with all these food stalls and games. Kinda like a matsuri, but with, like, cotton candy vibes.”

Katsuki, who’d been pretending to read a manga on the couch, saw his chance. He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, and sauntered over. “Yo, what’s up?” he said, his English rough but clear, his usual scowl softened just a fraction.

You froze, eyes wide. “Wait, Bakugou? Did you just… speak English?” Your grin was instant, bright enough to make his chest tighten. “Since when?”

“Since I felt like it,” he muttered, switching to Japanese, his cheeks faintly pink. “You’re always yapping in both languages, so I figured I’d see what the fuss is about.”

Mina snickered, and Kirishima gave a thumbs-up. “That’s manly, Bakugou!”

You leaned forward, switching to English. “Okay, tough guy, let’s see what you got. What’s your favorite thing about festivals?”

Katsuki hesitated, glancing at Shoto, who’d just walked in and gave a subtle nod. He took a breath. “The food,” he said in English, slow but steady. “And… winning stuff. Like, games. I’d kick ass.”

You laughed, clapping your hands. “Oh my god, you totally would! めっちゃ competitive, huh?” You switched back to English. “Bet you’d win me one of those giant stuffed animals.”

His smirk was pure Katsuki, even in a new language. “Damn right I would.”

From the doorway, Shoto watched, his expression unreadable but satisfied. Katsuki caught his eye, giving a grudging nod. Maybe Icy-Hot wasn’t so bad. But as you kept talking, pulling him into your mix of Japanese and English, Katsuki realized something: he didn’t just want to keep up with you. He wanted to be the one you laughed with, in any language.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope I did it justice!

-made with loves n' kisses 💋✨

[queerfeabieuser]

Time to introduce myself on here then, welcome to my pinned post :3

For those impatient or unwilling to read much, some keywords about me !

Intj

Unionist

Leftist

25 years old

420 (bonus: the munchies make me gain)

Bi (lingual and sexual)

Animal friendly

Reader

Gamer

Student

Switch

Feedee

Fa

Can be a feeder but not online

Kind of a fat femboy

For those who are interested in getting to know me more, here's a more well-rounded summary of what I mean by those keywords and I'm happy to talk about more in the DMs, cause, you know, I'm a full person and more than cam fit in some few lines of text :3

The intj is mostly here to give a indicator of my day to day personality but I think with the right feeder that could shift quite a lot

As for the Unionist and Leftist, I do love to think about societal issues and how to tackle them and actively work with some groups to implement that, and I'd like to continue doing so until and unless I find a feeder that can be working on that for both of us! Actually I think that could be hot af but I'll elaborate on that in other posts

My age is rather self explanatory and I'm living in Germany atm, I don't mind a bit of distance but it shouldn't be further than a nighttrip by flixbus, if its a relationship. I am fluent in German and englisch and speak a low level (like, enough to not starve but not enough for a good conversion) of Italian and Spanish

Especially as a feedee I loooovvvee weed, it's such a perfect fit for feedism imo, especially the munchies and lack of movement it induces, and how it can heighten sensation for the perfect hedonistic experience

As for hobbies, I like being active in cultural settings like going to the opera or museums but am also happy reading my books (philosophy and novels mostly) or gaming (WOT or repo for example) and if I'm with someone I love a good series like bojack horseman, questo mondo non mi renderà cattivo or arcane

My feabie name is exchangestudent and as it implies I started engaging in this community when I was a exchangestudent (if you like philosophy or politics and economics we can probably talk about that as well)

As a feedee I'd mostly look for a contrast feeder, muscular and strong if a woman and twinkish cute if a man, I should also add that I'm more into the hedonism and pleasure seeking so a ideal feeder for me would be more about enabling than forcing! But I also like other types and so feel free to shoot your shot! Also tall women and short men to the front rows pls ;3

I generally like being both dominant and subby but it really depends on my partner and my mood, but I gotta say a huge weakness for me is mommy type feeders so in that I would probably be more subby (occasionally I can also be a huge Brat lol) but yeah it really depends on the individual

As a fa I like basically all fat bodies and there is little I dislike about bodies in general with the only exception I can think of being me really not being a fan of body hair on any gender

As a feeder I love cooking for my feedee and having meals together or feeling their taunt belly after and since none of that really works online please don't ask me to be your online feeder (if you're cool we can be o line friends tho and maybe meet after some time :3)

As for how I like to express love, here are my 5 love languages

Giving:

1. Touch (with your consent also happily in public)

2. Words of affirmation

3. Quality time

4. Acts of service

5. Gift Giving

Receiving:

1.Touch

2.Quality time

3.Acts of service

4.Words of affirmation

5.Gift Receiving

The numbers 2,3,4 are in both categories very close to each other and very well appreciated, number one is a must have (not necessarily in a sexual way, for example sitting on each other in a feeding seassion, holding hands or cuddles are amazing to me ) and while Nr 5 is nice to have its not really necessary for me.

When it comes to my gender I guess the most accurate descriptor would be fluid or agender but honestly i dont give much of a shit as long as you dont ascribe gender to me in perscriptive or degrading manner. I am amab, often with a femme presentation that mostly revolves around darker clothing while maintaining a distinctive style. I do love my suits tho and also enjoy the maskulin style, just not always

Well then, so much for an introduction, if you like what you read or want to get to know me more, my DMs are currently open.

[chwetuan]

coffee bean - ten x reader (a, f)

Coffee Bean: In which Ten turns your lonely life into something so much sweeter - like the taste of coffee and cream that lingers on his lips. college!au + exchangestudent!ten.

+ wc: 3.2k

+ genre: soft angst, fluff

+ song pairing: imported - jessie reyez ft 6lack

+ a/n: this fic is my baby. a few months ago when my writer’s block was intense, this was all i could work on. overtime, i went back to it whenever i felt my inspiration lacking. i hope you can feel my emotion through it, and above all, i hope you like it <3 - Z

You don’t think he meant to spill coffee on you. At least, you desperately hope not, because he was — honestly, to whatever higher power there was — the most beautiful human being you’d encountered in the mere two hours you’d been awake.

It’s shameful, how easily you can become infatuated with a stranger. You figure it’s all the books you read, all the stories about love at first sight and meeting “the one” — your inherent hopeless romanticism.

The reaction is delayed. You’re slow in plucking the napkins out of his hand and pressing them against the now ruined fabric of your shirt.

“Oh, my god - I’m so sorry. I’m sorry-“

He’s rushing to speak and stuttering an apology, awkwardly, as he picks the coffee cup off of the ground. His eyes are darting around your face, flicking downwards to the stain and the movements of your hand. 

If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t be concerned about the the dryness of your lips or the pimple on your forehead. But, he’s cute, sloping nose and blonde-haired glory kind of cute.

“It’s fine. I don’t like shirts anyways.”

The words fly out of of your mouth faster than your mind can process them.

You want to facepalm yourself. You almost go to do it, but then you remember that there’s a pimple on your forehead and your hand is kinda sticky from the dried coffee.

“I mean, I like shirts, not just this shirt. I know I bought the shirt but it’s not my favorite or anything, you know? So it’s fine.”

The recovery is hardly smooth.

He smiles, and his eyes crinkle into little crescents, half-moons so beautiful you forget it’s broad daylight.

“I mean, the shirt is kinda cool, so I’m sorry about the coffee thing.”

“It’s just a white shirt. I can buy a 5 pack of Hanes shirts for like 6 bucks.” You take the empty coffee cup from his hand, stuffing the used napkins into it and shoving it in your backpack, mentally noting to throw it away later.

“I know, but you look cool in it.”

The more he talks, the more you pick up on an accent. Your geography is shit, and you can’t really guess where it’s from, but he’s definitely not from around here, you’d know if he was. I mean, you knew he wasn’t from the start, being that cute and that well-dressed — not a chance.

“So, what’s your name?”

“5 times 2.”

“Ten?”

“Ten.”

“Cool.”

~~~

The next time you run into Ten, it’s in the campus library. You look much different than you did on the day he spilled coffee on you. Instead of a white t-shirt and pair of jeans, you’re dressed in a bulky cardigan and a pair of leggings that scream cold weather with a chance of rain.

You take the gently-used book from his grasp.

“Ten.”

“T-shirt girl.”

The corner of your mouth tilts into something similar to a smile as you add the name of the book to his account. The edges are frayed, and the cover is worn. It’s called “The Vision of Modern Dance”, and on the cover is some woman frolicking. That’s the only way you can describe it. The program takes long to boot up, because the operating system is old as hell and the university hasn’t upgraded the library’s electronics since the early 2000s. 

You wonder if you could ever be that graceful frolicking across a stage.

“Modern dance, huh.” You stall.

You wish the computer was modern. “Yeah. Never saw you as the librarian type, but somehow it’s very fitting.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

You hand the book over to him after a few minutes of slightly awkward silence.

“It’s yours for two weeks.”

He has a crossbody bag slung over his shoulder, it’s worn like the book he holds and he smiles as he puts it in his bag.

“See you in two weeks.”

~~~

You bump into Ten before the two weeks. To be precise, it’s a week later, on a boring Friday night outside of a convenience store about a block away from campus.

“T-shirt girl.”

It’s an odd way to continue addressing someone, but it still makes you smile.

“Ten. Have you forgotten my name?”

In the glow of the street light, his eyes twinkle and you can see the red color that’s settled on his cheeks. Maybe it’s the night air. He shakes his head.

“Beer?”

It’s only then that you notice the six-pack he’s holding, glass bottles clinking as he sets the case on the table in front of you.

“Okay.”

He nods and sits across from you, handing over a bottle and watching you open it on the edge of the table. It’s the cheap kind — the kind that reminds you of your teenage years, when you were less broke than you are now and much more stubborn.

“How’s your dance book?”

“Boring. Kinda good, but mostly boring.” He takes a sip. “What are you studying?”

Psychology.”

His brows raise momentarily. “Cool.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugs and it’s quiet again. It isn’t awkward, but you’re trying so hard not to stare at him and to stop yourself from grimacing as you sip the beer. It really does remind you of your teenage years.

The night air is chilly. You can hear the sounds of people talking and music playing faintly coming from inside the store. The sky is clear, because you’re nowhere near the city, and you can see the stars and the half-moon that remind you of his eyes.

You break the silence. “Where are you from?”

“All over.”

“Elaborate.”

“Well, Thailand.” He pauses, sipping again and leaning back in his seat. “But also Korea and China, for a bit.”

“How’d you end up here?”

He runs his fingers through his hair. It’s grown a bit since you first met him. The blonde is fading, melting into the color of honey, and his roots have started to grow out.

“I felt like I needed to push myself more. Be on my own. I won a few competitions back home-“

“Which home?”

He laughs, airy and mysterious like the person he is.

“All.”

You nod, sipping from the nearly empty bottle.

“It felt like everyone knew me. I couldn’t tell if the people around me wanted to be there because of me, or because of the attention. So, I left.”

“Good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I mean,” You start, sitting up a little straighter. “My home life is pretty shit. I don’t go home during holidays and I don’t talk to my parents. My younger sister does good for herself, and it isn’t her fault everyone uses her and her money. I’ve tried to tell her that they are, but we always end up fighting. She doesn’t listen. I tried to tell her to leave. She’s young, and she’s more stubborn than I was. My family hates me for it. I wish she would leave, though.”

“You’re a good person.”

“Aren’t we all, at first?”

“We are. But not all of us say that way.”

“You’re right.”

“Beer?” He asks again, and the night continues on like that.

~~~

At the two week mark, Ten’s back in the library.

He’s wearing a university hoodie - the one that everyone buys during freshman year. Mid-terms are approaching, and the signs are seen on his face. He looks tired, bags under his eyes and all, but he still smiles that smile that could make anyone do anything.

“Hey, Ten.”

He nods in greeting, fishing into his shoulder bag and taking the book out. He’s playing with the rings on his fingers. You’ve counted four, three silver and one gold. 

He’s looking at you like he wants to say something, and you know he does, because you’re a psychology major and while you may not be good with words, his body language says it all.

Whatever he wants to say is left unsaid. You don’t push and he leaves with a polite thank you and a shy smile.

~~~

It’s your birthday.

It’s your birthday and you’re crying in the bathroom.

Your shift ended four and a half minutes ago, but the tears keep falling.

No one calls you. Not even your sister.

You’re reminded of how lonely you are — classes all week, working in between, and nothing but the books to keep you company.

You wipe your tears and take deep breaths, and you feel stupid. You feel like your teenage self, and no one should feel like her, ever.

You feel like she’s watching you, with a sad smile on her face. She wants to reach out to you and hug you, tell you that she’s sorry and that it’s okay, because she knows how you feel and that no one has ever done that for her.

No one knows you better than yourself.

Eventually, you make your way out of the bathroom, head down watching your feet as you leave the library.

You’re only a few steps out of the exit when you bump into someone. You’re about to rush a sorry, but the person speaks before you do.

“We keep meeting like this.”

You freeze. It’s his voice and you freeze.

You don’t want to talk. Your throat is hoarse from silent crying and you don’t trust your voice. You look up briefly, giving what you hope is a smile. To Ten, it’s the saddest attempt he’s ever seen and he feels his heart sinking.

“Why are you crying?”

His reaction is instantaneous — a series of actions so smooth, you’d figure he’d done this a million times. He cups your face and wipes your tears with mittened fingertips. “Why are you crying?” He asks again.

He sounds hurt. He sounds like he just witnessed someone kick an innocent puppy, or a child who dropped their ice cream. He sounds that way because he’s a good person and he doesn’t want you to cry.

“You’re a good person, Ten.” Your voice cracks and you pull his hands away from your face, holding onto him and trying to calm yourself down.

“Please tell me why you’re crying.”

It’s almost like he’s pleading.

In the moment, it doesn’t occur to you that you hardly know this man.

“No reason. It’s okay-“

“People don’t cry for no reason.”

“Ten-“

“Where’s your coat? You don’t even have on a coat.” He begins fussing over you, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s never seen you like this before and it’s bothering him. You’re the closest thing he has to a friend in this unfamiliar town, even with your limited number of interactions.

It doesn’t occur to you that Ten is lonely, too.

He pulls you close to him and brushes stray hairs out of your face and he keeps rambling.

“You don’t cry for no reason. And you’re a psychology major so you definitely know that people don’t cry for no reason. Even if it’s for some underlying reason that doesn’t make itself obvious at first. And I’ve never seen you cry. You didn’t even cry when I spilled hot coffee on you. And it was hot.”

You push feebly at his chest. There’s no real effort because he’s warm, and no one has held you with such care in your entire life.

His fussing dwindles into quiet mumbling as your crying dies down.

~~~

Ten takes you to the 24-hour diner a few minutes away from campus.

He walks you to his car, a black sedan with leather seats that smell like vanilla and is filled with empty coffee cups and cd covers piled in the back.

Before you walk into the diner, he forces you into a hoodie, because, you don’t even have on a coat and it’s freezing outside.

He slides it over your head. “It’s clean, I promise.”

It’s the same university hoodie from a few weeks ago. It smells like soap and laundry detergent.

You sit at a booth in the far corner. Right next to a window. He sits across from you and orders your pancakes, and you watch as his earrings twinkle in the terrible lighting.

You can just barely make out your reflection in the window. You see your red nose and puffy eyes and fiddle with the hair tie around your wrist.

Like shit. You look like absolute shit. But you haven’t felt this shitty in awhile.

Ten stays silent. He watches you with his head resting in his palm. He nudges the warm drink towards you.

The smell of coffee is strong as you wrap your fingers around the mug, warmth settling into your fingertips.

“It’s my birthday.”

He nods.

“It made me realize that I’m lonely.”

Silence settles between you too as you focus on the coffee in front of you. You take a sip, the bitter liquid burning your tongue.

“I’m sorry.” You’ve heard that line more than once, sitting in this exact same diner. It’s never been sincere. 

He’s being genuine— you know he is. He isn’t like the other guys that have taken you to this diner; The ones who don’t care about anything other than getting you in their beds, meddling their way into your heart and splitting it open when they leave.

“You don’t need to be.”

He reaches for your hand, running his thumb over chipped nail polish and the lines of your palm.

“Someone should,” He starts. “Someone should be sorry that a girl like you is lonely and hurting.”

You eat your pancakes in silence.

~~~

After that night, Ten, for lack of a better description, doesn’t leave you alone.

It’s not unwelcome — not in the slightest. A little overwhelming at times, because you’re not used to having someone look after you the way he does. He makes you nervous at times, with his attention to detail and the way that nothing ever slips past him.

Most nights, he meets you after your shift at the library is over, coffee cup in hand and the smell lingering on him. He walks you to your apartment and tells you about his day; the classes he’s taught, the songs he’s danced to. Some nights, you go to the diner. Others, you take his car and drive to the edge of town, watching the faraway city under starlight as soft music plays from his speaker.

The best nights are when he lets you come back to the practice room with him, where you sit on a pile of makeshift blankets and pillows in the corner and watch him with fascination until your eyes grow tired.

Some days, he brings takeout to your apartment, and you sit and talk until the sun goes down. He tells you about Thailand and all the places he’s been. Other days, you wander into the heart of town during markets and thrift sales.

The best days are when you curl up on the couch of his apartment, feet in his lap and that stupid freshman hoodie on as you watch reruns of old movies and tv shows.

And little by little, you stop feeling lonely.

~~~

Fall blends into winter, leaves no longer cover the limbs of trees, and somewhere along the lines, you feel a shift in your feelings. It’s hardly anything big, hardly anything obvious, but it’s just enough for you to know that something is different.

It’s small - the way you brush his bangs from his eyes, tuck the tags of his shirts in, and hug him a little longer than usual.

You don’t think he notices, and if he does, he refrains from bringing it up. You figure that it’s for the best; keeping the words unsaid like it’s your little secret.

It’s another one of those days where you’re cooped up in his apartment. But something is not right. He’s quieter than usual, knees pulled up to his chest as he stares at the tv screen. He’s not really paying attention, the way his gaze seems kind of far off.

“Hey.” You call softly, voice only a whisper above the movie. You’re only half an hour in, and at this point, it’s just become background noise while you stare at his profile in the dim lighting of the room.

He hums in response, turning to face you and stretching his legs.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes tired and a slow smile coming to his lips. “I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

And the night goes on like that.

~~~

Ten wonders if lying is for the better when feelings are involved.

He isn’t lying, not necessarily. He is okay — he’s just confused. Conflicted.

He wants to tell you how he feels, but he’s scared. He’s scared of losing the security you guys have built around each other.

But it drives him crazy, little by little.

The way your hug him a little longer, the way you brush his hair out of his eyes.

~~~

It happens suddenly.

“Are you happy?” He questions one afternoon, eyes trained on your silhouette as you stare out the window of his apartment.

You don’t answer immediately, letting the question settle in the silence between you.

The answer scares you, because you are happy, and it’s been so long since you were.

The reason behind that scares you even more, because you’re happiest when you’re with him.

When the smell of coffee lingers in his apartment, when he makes you laugh so hard that tears prick the corners of your eyes.

When he absently brushes the hair from your face, when he reaches for your hand, or when he smiles at you with that smile that feels like it’s only for you.

You lose yourself in your thoughts, snapping out of it when you feel Ten’s palm gently, almost hesitantly, rest on the small of your back.

“You make me happy.” You mumble - words like a whisper, a secret you’ve never told.

The answer is simple enough, if you remove the extras and think about the way he makes your heart race, or the way you look for him when your world turns blue and grey.

The answer has always been simple. The answer has been four little letters etched onto the canvas of your heart. Four little letters you thought you’d never find — in yourself or in anyone else.

Four little letters.

In that moment, when you turn to face him, eyes finding his own and heart beating fast, you make the decision.

Your hands reach for his shirt, tugging him closer to you.

L.

They travel across the planes of his chest, and find each other at the nape of his neck. He wouldn’t have stopped you, even if he needed to.

O.

His arms wrap around you, warmth engulfing your bodies as his eyes find your own. He sees the universe inside of them.

V.

You kiss him, letting your lips tell him all of your secrets and all things unsaid.

E.

~~~

He’s a fool, he thinks, to have fallen so quickly in only a few months.

But, he knows. He knows that when the spring melts the ice on the river, winter fading into a distant memory while the world reverts to its color, he knows that together, you’ll bloom like the flowers around him.

You find those four little words in each other, and the rest turns into a memory, like the fall before winter.

And all that’s left is you and him, and the smell of coffee in the morning.

.

.

.

[hear-the-dokidoki]

HS!JungKook x ExchangeStudent!Reader

Summary: You are hosted by a lovely couple for an exchange in the city of your dreams. Their son, however, seems to have something against you…

Word count: 2.2 k

As resquested by @wonwooscherie

NB: This is the first fanfic-ish thing I’ve ever fully written, so please read generously ^u^ And send in any kind of BTS/ASTRO related requests if you wish! ;

DAY 1

      Your smile kept growing as the car went through the streets of this city you’ve always wanted to see with your own eyes. You were so excited, and everything was fantastic, from the way the houses were aligned to the color of the sky. It had taken nearly two years of saving up and trying to convince you parents to let you go, but you had finally managed to get into an exchange program to the city of your dreams. The couple who was welcoming you was incredibly nice. When you eye caught them at the airport, holding up a poster with your name handwritten on it and smiling warmly, you knew your stay would be great. You kept thanking them on the way to their house.

       The ride felt both like a few seconds and an eternity. You got out of the car, light as a cloud, and took out your suitcase. You followed the couple as they entered the house. It smelled like cinnamon. The couple told you to get comfortable and pointed towards a guest room near the house’s main entrance. You thanked them again, grinning. You brought your suitcase in the room, and decided to explore the house. You went into the main hall and looked around. You spotted a wall filled with family portraits. You walked up to it and saw photos of the couple and a little kid. In some of the pictures, he seemed to be 11 or 12, and he was only a baby in some others. You knew the family hosting you had a single son. “He looks quite adorable” you thought. When he became a teenager, he’d probably be good looking.

      “I assume you’re Y/N?” A voice asked. You carefully turned around, and proceeded to blink several times.

      “Uh, yes. That’s me.” The person standing in front of you was the teenage version of the kid in the pictures. He looked about the same age as you. He was quite handsome.

      “I was right…” You said under your breath.

      “I’m sorry?” He questioned.

      “I… Nothing.” You were still a bit shaken by this unexpected apparition. Your head turned back to the pictures. He still had the same face.

      “…My name is Jungkook. I’m doing well. Thank you for asking.”

      “Oh. Right. Hi, my name is Y/N. I’ll be living here for 2 weeks. Thank you for hosting me.” You gave a small bow.

      “Whatever.” He replied. As you started to frown, he walked away, in the direction of a staircase that led to what you assumed to be the basement.

      “Well. That was a great first impression.”

DAY 3

             You had been here for two days already, and you were having the time of your life. You spent most of the last 48 hours walking around by yourself, seeing all the scenery you’d always admired in pictures and tasting a lot of new, delightful food. At home, the couple was always good and caring. Their son, on the other hand, seemed to dislike you. You tried to initiate a conversation twice. The first time, you were having dinner with the whole family and tried to get to know him, but he answered with a few syllables each time, so you gave up. Instead, you chatted with his parents. You told them about how their city had always fascinated you. You gesticulated a lot and were really expressive when you told them about the things you hoped to see. They gave you a few tips about this and that, and you thanked them warmly. During the whole time, Jungkook started at his food.

      The second time, it was late in the evening, and you had bumped into him in the living room. You barely finished a sentence before he said he had to meet up with a friend and walked out of the house

      Today was Monday, but since it was summer vacation, school was out of the picture. Nonetheless, Jungkook parents were off to work. You had woken up around 10am and were having breakfast in the kitchen when Jungkook walked up the staircase. You saw him first, and gave him a small wave. He was in the middle of yawning, but his movement was interrupted when he saw you. His eyes widened, and he stared at you for a few seconds.

      “Good morning.” You said. You took a bite of your toast.

      That didn’t seem to appease him. Was the sight of you that horrible? Sure, you had just woken up, and you often referred to yourself as a potato, but you had never scared anyone with your looks. His reaction hurt you. You didn’t really care about him… but still.

      “Hey. I just needed… my shirt.” He said, taking a white t-shirt from a pile of folded clothes on a little table near the basement’s door. He turned his back to you and returned to the basement, where his room was located.

      You took another bite of your toast, deep in thoughts. That guy really had something against you. You knew he hadn’t had breakfast yet, because you would have heard him from your room, which was close to the kitchen. He was starving himself just to avoid you. How convivial.

      You sighed and decided to focus on your planning for the day. There was this restaurant downtown that everyone praised. You started to think about which route would be the quickest way to get there.

DAY 7

      “I’m just asking why you won’t even try to get to know me before deciding that I don’t even deserve an answer when I say hi!” You exploded. “I’m just trying to be a decent human being, why can’t you do the same?” You almost shouted.

      It was Friday afternoon, and Jungkook was standing in front of you. You’d just came back of a quick jog, and you had run into him, walking in the same direction as you, a street away from the house. He heard you when you said “hey”. He was only a few meters away. He had kept walking. It had been a week already, and he was still as nice as a bad flu, around you. You had tried to ignore it, but living under the same roof made things difficult, especially during family dinners. He just kept avoiding and/or ignoring you. It was getting to you.

      “What have I done wrong? Do you just hate my aura or something?” You caught up to him, and you were still a breathless from your run.

      He glanced at you, but almost immediately turned his head back. Frustrated, you placed yourself in front of him, blocking the way.

      “At least tell me what it is! My general personality? The way I walk? My face?”

      He stopped, and, for once, properly looked at you.

      “No! No, of course not. None of that.” He said, with a tone implying that he thought it was obvious.

      “Well, what is it, then? Why do you keep avoiding me?”

      “That’s…” He hesitated. “That’s none of your business” The words were thrown out of his mouth, and they astonished you. Disbelief painted on your face, you fell silent.

      This whole situation was so ridiculous, you decided to just let it go. You didn’t lift a finger when Jungkook went ahead and got into the house. After all, you thought, you didn’t have much time left in this city, so you had to make the best of it and make incredible memories.

Day 10

      You were feeling a bit sick. You had gone a swim in a local lake in spite of the cold weather, last night. You didn’t regret it: it was an unforgettable experience, and you expected your body to get back to its usual state by tomorrow. Today, however, you would take some time to rest. The house was calm. Jungkook was in his room, and his parents were at work. You hadn’t seen him much, in the last few days. You went into the kitchen, and decided to make yourself an omelet. You ate while rereading the first novel from a book series you loved.

      You finished your meal, and as you were getting up to do the dishes, you got into a coughing fit, and dropped the plate you were holding.  

      “Oh, my god!” You started coughing again.

      “What’s happening?” Jungkook had just appeared in the basement entrance. “I heard a loud noise and…” His voice trailed of when he noticed the broken pieces of plate by your feet. “Y/N, don’t move.” He demanded.

      He went downstairs and came back with a broom. He carefully cleaned up the mess you did. You didn’t say anything at first, too shocked by his behaviour. He was being thoughtful? What the hell?

      “It’s alright, now.” His eyes searched the room for any bit of broken plate he could have missed. His gaze feel on your book, placed neatly on the table.

      “Oh, isn’t that *insert series*? I’ve always loved that series.”

      You were just too confused to say anything. What was happening? Why was he suddenly all talkative and nice? The silence became awkward, and Jungkook began to shift his weight from one leg to another.

      “I should put this away.” He said, accompanying his words with a glance to the broom in his hands. “Yeah, I’ll do that…” He walked towards the basement. He was nearly out of sight when he stopped in his tracks and added “Be careful next time.”

DAY 12

             The sun was shinning bright through the windows. You had just visited a majestic building that used to be some nobleman’s summer house. You had taken some nice pictures. When you walked into the kitchen, Jungkook was preparing his lunch. He was listening to music with headphones on, and he was humming. You walked towards him.

      “Thanks” You said, poking his shoulder.

      “What?” He took off his earphones, and froze when he saw you so close.

      “I said thanks. For the other day. I didn’t get the chance to say thanks before. You didn’t seem to be around the house much.”

      “Ah. I see. You’re welcome. And I was hanging out with some friends.” He explained. He concentrated on his tomato cutting.

      “Oh, okay. Well, about that book series? It’s my favorite. I’ve loved it since the first novel came out.” You sighed nostalgically. “I still reread it from time to time.”

         Jungkook turned to you, and gave you a bright smile. You noticed how pretty his eyes were when he was smiling.  

      “It’s my favorite series too! I used to dream to live in that universe. It seems like so much fun! Adventures and fights and everything!”

      You let out a chuckle. “I feel you.” He was so enthusiastic, it was sort of cute.

DAY 13

             You were sitting in front of Jungkook’s small bookshelf. It contained only a few books, but you knew all the titles and liked most of them. Yesterday, Jungkook and you had finally had a decent conversation. Sometimes he would get a bit quiet, but it was still so much better than before. Earlier today, he had offered to show you the local library. You had gladly accepted, as you loved books and hadn’t supported a local library in a while. On the way back home, you had discussed some book series and their cinematographic adaptions, usually agreeing that the books were better. You looked up at Jungkook sitting on his bed, observing you while you browsed his book collection.

             “Why did you ignore me so much until now?” You couldn’t help yourself. Even though it could ruin the moment, you were too curious.

             He wasn’t particularly surprised by the question. He laid down on his back, and stayed silent. You stood up, and walked a bit closer to him.

“You’re quite nice, when you want to… I wish you had been like this since the beginning. My stay here would’ve been even better.” You continued.

             He muttered something under his breath.

             “I didn’t catch that, Jungkook.” You tilted your head.

             His eyes were closed, and he looked like he was having an internal conflict.  

             “Crush…” He whispered

             “I’m sorry, what?” You reflexively leaned in.

             “Crush. On you. I have a crush on you.” He sat up.

             You stared at him, confused. Words started flowing out of his mouth. He barely paused to breath.

             “But you’re leaving tomorrow already. I didn’t think it was worth it. Telling you, that is. But… I thought you were adorable when you talked about how excited you were to explore our city! And I like your aura, or whatever that was you said before. And the way you walk. And your face. I really like your face. I mean. I like… I like you.”

             Your mouth was hanging open. Jungkook risked a glance at you.

             “Please say something. I don’t think you can make me feel worse. I’m such an idiot, I shouldn’t have confessed. You’re leaving tomorrow and there’s no point in all this and I don’t even know-”

             You stop the panicked flow of words with your lips. The kiss lasted a few seconds. You backed away a few centimeters, and you give him a dazzling smile.

             “I don’t care about tomorrow. Kiss me again.” You demanded.

             He searched your eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. You threw your arms around his neck. His lips slowly curled into a grin.

             “I guess it can’t be helped.” He chuckled. “I’ll have to oblige.”

             He kissed you again.

[loves-n-kisses]

for katsuki request can you do permanently, like her exchange program was over so she went back to America

Ofc!! Sorry this took so long! This was unexpectedly my hardest write, being a part two and it taking place in a completely new setting, while having to incorperate the same elements from the first story--let me stop yapping so you can READ!!

Katsuki x ExchangeStudent!Reader: Blasting Through Barriers Part Two - Return to America

Another story where reader moves back to america, but Katsuki's not letting her go that easy.

Part 1!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The exchange program at UA High had been the best six months of your life. You’d battled villains, trained alongside Class 1-A, and formed bonds you never expected—especially with Katsuki Bakugou. His rough edges and fiery determination had drawn you in, and when he started learning English just to talk to you, it made your heart skip. But now, the program was over. You stood at the airport, your suitcase packed, staring at the gate that would take you back to America.

Mina clung to you, tears streaking her pink cheeks. “You better FaceTime me every week, okay? I need my festival buddy!” Kirishima gave you a bear hug, his grin wavering. Shoto, ever calm, offered a small nod. “Keep in touch,” he said in his near-perfect English, a skill that had once made Katsuki scowl with jealousy.

But Katsuki? He stood off to the side, arms crossed, staring at the floor like it personally offended him. You’d hoped he’d say something—anything—but he’d been quieter than usual all day. When you waved goodbye to the group, his crimson eyes flicked up, meeting yours for a split second before he turned away. Your chest ached as you boarded the plane.

Back in America, life felt dull. School was fine, friends were great, but nothing compared to the chaos and camaraderie of UA. You missed Mina’s energy, Kirishima’s encouragement, Shoto’s quiet support. Most of all, you missed Katsuki—his brash confidence, the way he’d mutter English phrases under his breath to practice, the rare moments his guard dropped and you saw something softer in him.

You kept in touch with everyone through group chats, but Katsuki rarely replied. When he did, it was short, like “Tch, you still alive over there?” You’d laugh, but it hurt. You’d fallen for him, hard, and now the distance felt like a chasm.

One night, you sat on your bed, scrolling through old photos from Japan. There was one of you and Katsuki at the summer festival, him glaring at the camera while you grinned, holding a sparkler. Your phone buzzed, pulling you from the memory. A new message—from Katsuki.

“Check your mail, dumbass.”

Confused, you grabbed your jacket and headed to the mailbox outside. There was a small package, postmarked from Japan. Inside was a letter and a tiny keychain—a miniature dynamite stick, just like his hero costume. Your hands trembled as you unfolded the letter. His handwriting was messy, but the English was clear, each word carefully chosen.

“Y/N,

You left and it’s too damn quiet here. I ain’t good at this sappy crap, but I didn’t want you thinking I forgot you. I’m still practicing English, so don’t get cocky thinking you’re better than me. Got this stupid keychain ‘cause it reminded me of you laughing at my explosions. Don’t lose it.

I’m coming to America next month for some hero conference. If you’re not too busy being a nerd, maybe we can talk. In person. Don’t make me regret this.

—Katsuki”

Your heart raced. He’d written in English—for you. And he was coming here? You clutched the keychain, a grin spreading across your face. The distance still sucked, but knowing Katsuki was thinking of you, learning for you, planning to see you—it was enough to keep you going.

You grabbed your phone and typed a reply: “I’ll be waiting, hotshot. Don’t blow anything up before you get here.”

As you hit send, you felt lighter than you had in weeks. Maybe this wasn’t the end of your story with Katsuki. Maybe it was just the beginning.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

note: I'm happy I got to write a part two, despite how short and difficult it was 😅 I think I scrapped 5 different versions before I finally wrote one I was content with help me-

-made with loves n' kisses! 💋✨