dworkism

[dworkism]

snap! pose, baby!

ᯓ how would the mha boys post you on their instagram?

pairings : various! [ shoto, denki, katsuki, hanta, eijiro ] x reader

cw / notes : inspired by this very cute post by @runaarinn !

Shoto is definitely one of those people who only reposts stuff on his instagram. It’s never his own posts, he’s just… reposting. And he doesn’t have a second account. He just has one singular account that follows your first and second account…so people just found out about the two of you because he reposted something that you’ve posted in your second account.

Posted you for your birthday once and doesn’t really do much after that..

I honestly think he does take pictures of you, cherishes them deeply and smiles at them at night before he sleeps, just never posts them, yk? He just send them to you saying things like

You look very radiant here. You should post this.

This is stereotypical… I know… sighhhh but Denki posts you or pictures of you both with those memes that make kissy faces. He picks the BEST songs to go with them as well. And I’m not saying some like… brain rot songs naaw, I’m talking about Mac DeMarco typa thangs, ooooo I imagine him posting a picture he took of you on his digital camera to ‘the world is ugly’ by MCR  

He’s unsurprisingly good at making instagram stories by the way!!!!! I stand by this!!! He’d make collages of your recent date with like cute little emojis (liiikkee uhhh imagine the pinching emoji on your cheek kinda thing) 

Definitely has a highlight dedicated to you titled ‘<3’

Katsuki is almost like Shoto. But he does take blurry pictures of your hands holding or something (because he doesn’t wanna get caught taking a picture by you). Oh and maybe candid pictures of you eating. The times he does post you looking at the camera was because you asked him to take a picture of you posing with something, and decided the pictures were indeed worth posting. 

OH he definitely has like two posts on his page, one just a random blurry picture of his gauntlets, one being you on your birthday. 

happy birthday :) 

was definitely the caption. 

Hanta is pretty active on social media, and posts a lot. Has highlights for each and every topic of his life like “school! – friends :] – foodz” you get what I mean. 

It’s pretty cute to think that before you two were dating he’d put you in the ‘friends :]’ highlight, then a new highlight popped up one day titled ‘amor’ and was filled with all the pictures he took of you. (definitely have posted you lots of times in his private-private account before that though)

Posts silly pictures of the two of you—cheeks squished together, tiktok trends he saved in his playlists, or even just videos of you laughing at him put on with a really cute marias or maybe kali uchis song. 

Also unrelated—but he does the hugging tshirt trend with you if you know what I mean.

Knowing Eijiro, I think he’s one of those boys who also likes to update his progress in the gym. With that being said, he’d ask you to take videos of him and would let that raw unedited video be posted with your giggles and laughs behind the camera while he posed for it and uuughh he’s so cheesy. He’d caption it something like;

biggest motivator btw lifting my weights to this melody <3

ALSO he probably kinda sucks at picking the fonts in instagram and sometimes posts you with the comic sans font...

dworkism | do not repost!

taglist : @bloomness @deepinthegroves @insomniatears @coldnightshark @lilac-heartz @love-me-satoru @antriimx @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @xolunlun @idexmids @boreaswrites @lily-cheese-xoxo @idkidk32

be a part of the tag list!

➤ masterlist!

[dworkism]

JUNOOO 'm just stopping by to say that you have been serving BANGERS lately omg ily and your works 😋

FRANS ILY SM I was over the moon when you followed me back HAHAHAH you are such a diva KEEP BEING AMAZING 🫂🫶

[dworkism]

on the same page.

ᯓ denki kaminari SMAU

pairings : denki k. x f!reader

cw / notes : fluff, honestly it's not rlly a SMAU but....... ANYWAYS i really enjoyed writing this eeehehehehehehe

2,2k word count!

“There is no way. I’m not believin’ it.”

Hanta’s voice scoffed by the table, chewing his rice and chicken eggroll while he waved his hand to the air in disbelief. “You’re just naming names right now, Den.” 

The said blond pressed his lips together in an unamused pout, he huffed at the taller one’s comment. “No m’ not, maybe you’re just sad my standard’s sooo higher up than yours.” He stuck out his tongue.

That was met with laughter from Mina, choking on her faint orange colored yoghurt. 

“Clocked!” She barked out, shoving Hanta’s shoulder rather harshly. 

Hanta rolled his eyes with a grin, shoving Mina’s shoulder back with not much less of a force, his other hand busy cutting up his katsu strips that he always saved until the last bite. 

Eventually, Kyoka rolled back to the table after throwing away her trash, staring confused at the sudden loudness from the group. Not that it was new—no, never new. But it was always about something whenever the group got that loud that she could hear it from across the cafeteria. Her smile twitched amused, “What’s all this about?” She chuckled, slipping back into the seat.

“Den just told us who he was posting those instagram notes about,” Eijiro piped up, pointing his chopsticks at the grinning boy. 

“See if Kyo believes it, I bet a hundred thousand yen she wouldn’t!!” Hanta whined with a shout, standing up in his seat as he pointed accusingly at Denki. 

Katsuki sighed with a reluctant grin, his eyes fixed on his food while he shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth. It had been almost two months. Two months since Denki started posting ridiculous stuff in his instagram notes, his second account’s stories sometimes filled with little glimpses of what he had bought. But they never seemed to be about himself. Not at the least.

kachowwerz : stop being so cute ahahaa (im gonna die) kachowwerz : how to gain rizz no glue no borax pls

So of course it piqued the interest of the group. Hanta and Eijiro had repeatedly asked him about it, slinging their arms over his shoulder while they wiggle their eyebrows, naming the girls he’d shot his shots at before, yet to no avail, all the names were given a loud incorrect buzzer by Denki. 

Until today.

Intrigued, Kyoka leaned back, “Alright, shoot,” she smiled, folding her arms across her chest. 

Denki cornered his lips to hold back his smile. He leaned over, beckoning Kyoka to come closer to him so he wouldn’t have to shout through the cafeteria’s hustling and bustling. 

“It’s…” 

RIIINGG!

“Woo! Would you look at that!” Denki cheered, standing back up with a grin too wide to not be called pride. “Gotta go back to class!” His hands shoved into his pockets as he whistled innocently, walking away from the group with jolly steps.

ᶻ �� 𐰁

Your steps rushed—echoing through the halls with all the students’ steps as you clutched your box tools in your already red hands. Present Mic’s assignment is due for the next class, and you had only finished printing the contents this morning. Despite rushing your lunch, you still ran out of time to put together your pictures and printed texts onto the bright blue infraboard you’ve been carrying since morning. With a huff, you adjusted the grip by your box. 

“Oh—hey l/n–!” A streak of blonde passed by your eyes. 

You paused your steps, reeling your legs back upon the greeting, only to be met by Denki—smiling a little too tightly, waving his hand again when you met his eyes. 

“Hi Kami,” You slipped a small smile, “I gotta go, b-bye bye! Sorry, I’m late!” 

Denki’s voice was heard behind you, shouting out a happy “O-..Okay!”

His teeth met lower lip quickly, brows stitching together to a disappointed frown as he let his waving hand drop with a slap! to his thigh with a sigh. 

“Okay? O-kay??” Denki muttered to himself, turning on his heel to head to his own class. “Idiot.”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

So… 

Maybe cramming a week worth of an english book review and presentation project into one night wasn’t a good idea after all. Had you thought of that sooner, maybe Present Mic wouldn’t have to pull you aside after class to give you a guilty smile and tell you that your project will have to be redone seeing how messily it was put together. 

Now, your project is laid before you—again. Your already annotated copy of ‘Fahrenheit 451’ flipped open to the page you weren’t finished writing about, your half-assed writing smudged in between the lines of the pages. Crinkly circles of water scattered around the table’s surface and the book’s pages, some even on your own hands. 

You bit your lip hard, frustrated that you could have done better. You like english. You love how Mic teaches it. But the projects were just laying on top of each other this week, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to ask your friends for help because they were also busy, if not busier—at least that’s what you think. 

A sniffle, your hand dug its palm into your tear-welled eyes. 

Blur—your eyes wouldn’t focus, but you huffed, wiping your blazer’s sleeve to clear your eyes again as you continued writing, switching your head between the paper before you and your laptop. 

Looking up, you sucked in another sob—not tuning your ear to the shuffling outside your already-empty class. When you blinked back down, shadow loomed over you, the familiar jabs of messy hair shooting out by his head. 

“Kami..?” You sniffled, looking up from your lap. 

He stared at you with a frown, mouth opening and closing to say something, then he settled his bag onto the seat next to you. “Hey, hey,” his voice murmured, scurrying his stance closer to where you sat, he pulled a chair, placing it next to you.

“W-what’s wrong–? Why–..” 

Denki’s eyes darted around your table, cut out papers scattered around the floor around it, a glue stick still popped open, your fingers having small residues of it, then, he saw the book, recognizing the dialogue in the page.

“English..?” He grinned gently, nodding his head to your mess.

You gave him a nod. Pressing your hand to wipe your tears again while you fidget with your already loose tie. “...Mic said my presentation today was bad,” you muttered, eyes stinging again as you said the words.

“So I need to redo it.” 

He cornered his lip, glancing over to your writings before settling his eyes back to your face.

“I uh..”

“I picked the same book, y’know?” Denki nudged, reaching to his backpack to rustle through it, fishing out a crumpled copy of the exact same book. The same ‘Farenheit 451’ , crooked and folded at the corners from his rash handling of his bag. He held it up like a champ.

“I coouuld… help you out?” He smiled, leaning lower to meet your gaze that’s stubbornly fixed on your fidgeting hands.

Your hand wiped the bottom of your nose, eyes finally brave enough to look at his too.

“You’d do that..?” Said you, coming out more as a whimper. 

“‘Course I would.” He answered, more like a shrug. “I’m pretty sure you did better though,” Denki’s lighthearted voice arose again, placing the book on his lap.

“But it’s late,” You argued weakly, looking up at him through your watery lashes. “Don’t you usually play with your friends at this time..?” 

The boy shrugged, “Eh, there’s tomorrow for that.”

“‘Sides, you’re my friend too, l/n.” 

That bloomed a smile on your face, fishing out a sobful laugh from your lips as you finally looked at him fully. Dishevelled and all. “Thanks, Kami.” 

He looked at you for a moment, heart thrumming and his adam’s apple bobbing every now and then from his nervousness, his smile slightly sheepish in hopes you don’t notice all that. “C’mon, we’re gettin’ this done—t’day!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The two of you stretched your arms up as the clock strikes a loud pang of 6:45 P.M.

Denki groaned loudly with his tied back hair, immediately snatching off his red headband as he flopped down to the floor.

“Finally!” He cheered, lifting his fists up into the air with a whoop.

You chuckled—loosely now, while your hands collected the paper cuts scattered throughout the floor around you, rubbing your fingers together every now and then, trying to be rid of the glue. 

“Thank you, Kami,” You mumbled, looking at his flopped form. “You didn’t have to.”

“No yeah, it’s fine,” He waved his hand off, a smile evident in his lazing voice. “I wanted to anyway.”

“Aannd!” Sitting up, Denki lifted his finger to the air. “I bet your class would be stoked to see this—this masterpiece,” He grinned, making a grand gesture to the board that laid before you, already decorated with writings and hand-drawn bits and pieces. 

“This gets a hundred, at least.” Denki’s brows furrowed in determination, “If not two hundred.”

A small bashful chuckle was your response, biting back your smile as you continued to flicker your gaze from collecting the trash to his proudly smiling face. “Thanks, Kami,”

“...Again,” you added. “Thanks again.”

“Oh come aawwnn,” He drawled, whining his tone slightly. “I think we’re past last name basis, l/n.” 

Silence fell between you two. One where you stared at him, lips parted slightly. Not because you hated the idea of calling his first name. You were just.. not used to being welcomed into that space. The formality of calling everyone—even your classmates—by their last name just stuck to you. Even after six months being a second year.

“Wait–sorry– I didn’t mean it like that! Swear! I just–!” Denki scrambled to his feet, waving his hands to your face as he rambled about how he didn’t mean to push you too far he was just—

“It’s fine, ...Denki,” 

“...Oh-!” He breathed, a singular laugh escaping his lips. “Right. Right. Yeah.” 

You let your chuckle out again, seeing his rigid shoulders and stiff legs as he turned around and hit his chest. “Denki, help me tidy up, please?” 

Denki turned around fast. A tight smile gracing his lips that reached way above his eyes. Holding up his thumbs, his voice cracked. “Yeah! Yeah–! I’ll.. I’ll do that.” He wiped his hands to his pants, bending to his knees again as he began collecting the papers sticking to the floor and to his shirt.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

Fumbling your board on the right hand, his own backpack slung over his left shoulder, the two of you walked with loud rustlings. You carried your bags on one shoulder, both your hands busy carrying a box filled with scissors, glue sticks and whatnot. Every step echoed to the quiet halls of UA, accompanying your slightly ragged breaths. 

The cold air swept through your face the moment you both stepped out of the building’s walls, crickets singing loud into your ears as you stepped through the pavements toward the dorms. 

“C-Cold?” Denki cracked out, clearing his throat almost immediately. 

“No, no,” You shook your head with a smile, “M’ fine.” 

He nodded fervently, smiling to you while the two of you walked.

Shoulders brushing every now and then—breaths just a little bit too loud in your own ears, kinda walk. Silent, yes. Loud with your heart thumping against your chest while you watch the way your shoes fling up your shoelaces every step you make. 

“Why’d you uh–.. why’d you pick that book?” He started, coughing up again to look away. 

“Oh, well.. I kinda just–.. saw the movie first before I knew there was a book.” You admitted sheepishly, sighing out a laugh with a shrug. 

“There’s a movie?!” Denki’s laugh broke out. 

“Yes! Michael B. Jordan was in it!”

“Oh my God, I love that guy!” He shouted, grinning ear to ear as he cleared his hair from his face.

You giggled, hugging your box closer to your chest as the two of you died down your laughters, closing into the dorm buildings. 

“I have to watch it sometimes.” He noted, nudging you gently by the elbow.

A nod was your response, smiling at his enthusiasm as you adjusted your grip. “Yeah, let’s watch it together then,” 

Pausing your steps in front of your building, you turned to face him, face stretched to a smile that you couldn’t keep back in your own chest. “This is my stop,” You shrugged your shoulder to the building behind you, the faint sounds of conversations heard from inside. 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah,” Denki’s hands scrambled, “Here,” carefully, he gave the infraboard to your side, eyes not daring to look up from the ground to meet even your neck. He backed away, wiping his hands to his pants again with a grin, and you couldn’t stop your chuckle.

“Thanks again, Denki.” Your voice came out a breath, picking up your board with your fingers.

“Mhm, no worries, y/n.” His mouth stammered at your name.

Turning around, you climbed the steps to the doors, pushing it open before peeking your head to him again.

“Bye,”

Denki’s hand waved almost immediately, laughing at your smile. “Bye, y/n.”

“G-good–.. goodnight!” He stammered out, answered with your giggle and a wave of your own hand. “Goodnight, Den.”

Clack.

dworkism | do not repost!

taglist : @bloomness @deepinthegroves @insomniatears @coldnightshark @lilac-heartz @love-me-satoru @antriimx @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @xolunlun @idexmids @idkidk32

be a part of the tag list!

➤ masterlist!

[dworkism]

what is happening in america guys im in indonesia are we going to war

ALSO HI NEW MOOTS :D

[dworkism]

denki is good at english.

..... and that statement is relevant. remember it.

[dworkism]

whoever made it so hanta is sero's first name imma smooch u cuz that name's so UUUUGGGhhH like i'm giggling and stuff heeehehe

[dworkism]

how is this at SEVEN NOTES after being posted 13 HOURS AGO read this pLLSZZZ i sobbed reading it #needthat

hi!!!! since summer is finally here at the east coast, i was wondering if you could write an established relationship w osamu at the beach, also associated w the song Edge of the Ocean by Stick Figure?

p.s. i don't think i'll ever get over ANY of your oikawa fics. god tier.

hi! first and foremost thank youuuuu what was your favorite? i feel like i have a couple of oikawa fics atp lol,,, but now for the fic :p

you went to ole miss. osamu went to uga.

you were both born and raised in maryland, twenty minutes outside annapolis.

country club kids. private school, boat shoes, summer internships you didn’t have to apply for. both of you learned how to drink white wine too early. learned how to argue in public without anyone knowing. learned what it meant to be expected to turn out well.

you met when you were fourteen. kissed when you were fifteen. fell in love like it was just what you were supposed to do, because how could you not? you two made sense. people said so all the time.

your moms swapped tennis partners. your dads did business. your names had shown up side-by-side on every guest list since middle school.

he kissed you under the bleachers sophomore year when it was raining and no one else was there. said “you drive me crazy” like it was a compliment. gave you his hoodie for every football game, every late-night drive, every early morning class when you forgot yours on purpose.

he was steady. quiet. a little guarded. but he was always yours. until he wasn’t.

it didn’t fall apart fast. it just… eroded.

freshman year of college was too much. the space between you was too much after spending half your lives together.

a missed call, a text left on read, study groups that turned into nights out, you making friends he didn’t know, him mentioning girls from class like it didn’t mean anything—like their names weren’t little needles when they dropped into conversation.

he wasn’t cheating, and neither were you.

you were both just too friendly. raised for appearances and easy conversation. taught to be gracious, magnetic, to know how to smile even when your heart was tired.

but you’d never been like that without the other by your side.

so when you tried to stretch that charm across two different states, two separate lives—it broke.

too careless. too proud to admit when “just being nice” meant staying on the phone with a girl from chem lab who always called crying when your girlfriend wanted to debrief her midterm meltdown.

too proud to admit that sitting on another guy’s shoulders at the homecoming bonfire wasn’t something good girlfriends did, even if it was just for the view.

you were both networkers. both the type to float through parties, shake hands, remember names. you could own a room without trying, but you didn’t know how to own each other anymore.

because when the trust started slipping, you didn’t fight for it. you just tried to look unbothered.

“i’m not doing anything wrong,” he told you, once. arms crossed, over the phone, tired.

“you’re not doing anything right, either,” you said. voice thick, angry.

he was used to being right. you were used to being wanted. neither of you wanted to be the one to bend first, so you cracked instead, and when it ended, it ended hard, in silence and stubbornness. in things unsaid that still haven’t stopped echoing.

you didn’t stop loving each other. you just didn’t know how to love like that.

not across state lines. not through pride. not as versions of yourselves still figuring out who you were without the “you” in us.

…

thanksgiving was hell, and your mom invited him anyway. “it’s tradition,” she said.

he came in a pressed button-down. brought a bottle of wine he knew your dad liked.

you barely looked at each other. you stood on opposite ends of the room, pretending it didn’t ache.

atsumu made a joke that didn’t land. your aunt asked where your “sweet boy” was. you saw his jaw clench and turned away before it broke you, but it still did.

and it broke him, too. he just didn’t show it the same way.

…

spring break was the turning point.

the first time you touched him again, it was with hesitation and hunger both. the kind that made your hands shake when they cupped his jaw, made him pull you close like he didn’t believe you were real.

you saw him under the striped cabana umbrellas at the country club pool. the same place your moms used to gossip over lemonade and your dads shook hands over real estate and alma mater pride.

he waved first. you didn’t smile, not right away.

but you walked over.

and by the end of the week, you were in his car, parked at the overlook, telling him about how lonely it got at ole miss sometimes. how tired you were of pretending like he didn’t ruin every playlist and every half-dream you still had at night.

he’d said, real quiet: “i never stopped loving you.”

you’d whispered: “then do something about it.”

and he did.

…

so now, watch hill.

rhode island’s softest secret, all white fences and sailboats and summer homes that smell like family money and french linen. the kind of town that has one general store with overpriced jam, and a bookstore with crooked shelves, and coastal fog that rolls in like a lullaby.

his family’s beach house is three stories of sun-bleached cedar and old furniture that still smells like his grandma’s perfume. the porch wraps all the way around and creaks under your steps. the whole place feels like something preserved in amber, untouched, familiar, yours.

it’s just the two of you here.

atsumu’s in miami, probably being loud and tan and too much. the miya parents are god knows where, maybe europe. so osamu said it so casual, like it didn’t carry the weight of everything in his voice:

“you wanna stay with me there? just us. for a while.”

you said yes like a reflex. like a memory.

it’s early june when you get there.

you drive up alone. he asked you to, told you he wanted a couple days at the house first, to get everything ready. his family had offered to send someone—housekeeping, caterers, florals, all that pretentious background noise, and he just rolled his eyes. said, “i want it to feel like us. not like a resort.”

he changed the sheets himself. fluffed the pillows. stocked the fridge with your favorites. lit the good candles, the ones in the heavy glass jars that smell like bergamot and driftwood. played music while he swept sand off the porch: otis redding, al green, a little sade. he left the windows open and let the salt air clean the corners of the house.

said it helped him breathe better. helped him miss you right.

the drive felt too long and not long enough. the sky was wide and blue, the kind that makes your heart ache a little. the air, thick with humidity, tasted like heat and honeysuckle. by the time you get to the porch, you’re barefoot, blisters from your sandals rubbed raw, dust clinging to your legs, lips dry and mind buzzing.

he opens the door before you knock. he always feels you before he sees you.

he’s wearing a soft navy t-shirt, sleeves hugging those broad arms, collar a little stretched from sleep. his gray sweatpants hang low on his hips. there are sun-flecked streaks of silver at his temples now, just hints, but they shimmer like something sacred in the golden light.

he smells like sea salt and clean cotton and lemon from the hand soap in the kitchen. his smile is small. tired.

“hey,” he says, voice low and warm, like he’s holding it gentle just for you.

you just look at him. heart a mess in your ribs. then step inside.

his family’s beach house is three stories of coastal perfection.

sun-bleached cedar siding, shuttered windows, wild roses climbing the porch railings. the front door’s painted ocean blue, a little chipped. inside, it smells like old wood and sea breeze and something new—something waiting.

the kitchen is big and bright, all marble and glass and brushed brass. the kind of wealth that whispers instead of shouts. the kind that’s been here long enough to not need proving.

the bedroom’s upstairs, in the corner with the best view. it’s got floor-to-ceiling windows that open to the sea. the sheets are linen, ivory and soft, rumpled from him sleeping alone the past two nights.

he left one side turned down for you.

…

watch hill is quiet opulence. white picket fences that never yellow. manicured lawns edged with seashells. hydrangeas so big and bright they almost look fake. a marina where the yachts all have names like whisper and persephone.

he grew up coming here every summer.

you did, too, just across the cove, different family name, same country club invites.

the locals still remember you.

the guy at the corner café, fisherman’s son, always in an apron, nods when he sees you, grinning like you’re part of a secret.

“’bout damn time,” he says. “you finally put a ring on her yet?”

osamu just laughs. blushes down to his chest. “workin’ on it,” he mutters.

…

you wake up that first morning tangled in his arms. your cheek pressed to his chest, legs laced together, his palm warm on your bare hip. his body is solid heat, broad, sturdy, familiar. the kind of warmth you’d forgotten you missed until it swallowed you whole.

you breathe in the scent of him: salt, cedar, the clean smoke of last night’s candle.

“you awake?” you whisper, not sure why you’re whispering.

“mm,” he hums into your hair. “been awake. jus’ didn’t wanna let go.”

his voice is gravel-smooth with sleep, and there’s a scratch of stubble on his jaw when he nuzzles your temple. he kisses your forehead like it’s instinct.

your breath still tastes like sleep. he kisses you anyway.

…

the second morning, the air is warm but breezy. gulls cry in the distance. the house creaks in that lived-in way, the ocean humming its slow, steady rhythm outside the open window.

you smell lemon, butter, something else—brine, smoke, rosemary.

you blink sleep from your eyes and pad downstairs.

osamu’s in the kitchen, shirtless this time, gray cotton pants sitting low on his hips. he’s barefoot, curls damp from a rinse, salt-crusted and curling soft at the nape of his neck.

there’s a plate in his hands of striped bass, fresh from the dock he fished off that morning, seasoned with herbs and grilled with lemon slices thin enough to see through. next to it, there’s soft scrambled eggs, sourdough toast, and a little ramekin of honey.

“caught it this morning,” he says, proud in a quiet way. “thought you might be hungry.”

you sit up on the stool by the island and he feeds you the first bite, gently, with the back of a silver fork, careful not to drop anything.

“s’good?” he asks, like it matters more than anything.

you nod, mouth full, eyes watering a little. “you always do too much,” you whisper.

“you deserve it,” he says. presses a kiss to your cheek. “you always have.”

…

the rest of the mornings are slow.

you wake up in the bed upstairs, tucked under a cream-colored quilt with his arm draped over your stomach. his breath is warm against your shoulder. sometimes he pulls you closer in his sleep, mutters something about the smell of your shampoo, the way you kick the blankets off.

you’d forgotten how it felt to wake up next to someone who knows your rhythm. not just the way you move in sleep, but the way you carry your tiredness, the way you go quiet when you’re overthinking, the way you get still when you’re scared to ask “do you really still want me?”

he always knows when that silence hits. always breaks it with something small—his hand brushing your thigh, a kiss to your temple, murmuring, “yeah. i do.”

…

you spend afternoons barefoot on the beach, sand clinging to your calves, the hem of his hoodie brushing your thighs. he keeps offering to buy you another one that actually fits, but you keep stealing this one. it’s stretched and sun-worn and smells like sunscreen and him.

he grills shrimp on the back patio while you sit on the deck with a book, your legs stretched across the porch swing. sometimes you don’t even read. just close your eyes and listen to the ocean, the crackle of the grill, the way he hums under his breath when he’s focused.

and the way he touches you now—

it’s so much gentler. deliberate. full of patience and something like reverence.

like he knows what he almost lost.

…

in the evenings, you ride bikes into town.

you go to the corner ice cream shack and get soft serve with rainbow sprinkles. osamu always gets vanilla dipped in cherry shell. he lets it drip on his fingers and doesn’t care, just laughs when you lick it off.

you walk through little galleries and pick out ugly postcards. you call him “sammy” when he’s flustered and he calls you “baby” like he never stopped.

most people think you’re honeymooning. you don’t correct them.

…

the conversations still happen.

curled up on the porch swing, wine glasses warm in your hands, the sky spilling stars across the ocean.

“i hated not talking to you,” you admit. “it felt like being underwater all the time.”

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours.

“i hated myself,” he says. “for letting it get that far. for acting like you were just… someone i could stop needing.”

you kiss him for that. not because it fixes it, but because he said it. because he meant it. and because the porch light flickers behind you like a slow heartbeat, and the tide’s rolling in gentle, and everything feels like it’s exhaling.

…

you wear his hoodie over a bikini and nothing else. he watches you walk down to the water like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you.

he follows, carrying a speaker and a blanket and an umbrella he insists on setting up even though the sun’s “not that bad.” you lay down, press your cheek to his chest, listen to the low thump of his heart while stick figure plays in the background:

at the edge of the ocean, there’s a place to start over again…

…

he grills fresh clams for dinner, tossed in garlic and white wine, served in chipped ceramic bowls. you drink cold sauvignon blanc from glasses etched with the miya crest, half-joke, half-tradition. he toasts to nothing in particular.

later, when you’re curled up on the porch swing under a knit blanket, your head in his lap, he brushes your hair back and says, “i almost lost you.”

you tilt your face up.

“but you didn’t.”

his hand slips into yours. fingers rough and warm and steady. “i won’t again,” he says.

and you believe him.

…

you fall asleep to the sound of the ocean, the porch door creaking gently in the wind, and the feel of his thumb brushing across your ribs like he’s mapping the places he wants to stay.

this isn’t young love.

this is old love, rewound. softened at the edges. fierce, chosen, real.

and in the golden hush of watch hill, rhode island, where the sea meets the sky and the mornings come in slow and forgiving—

you let it all begin again.

slayyy ty for rq!!! | m.list

[dworkism]

i've got FIVE hanta sero works and a maximal at TWO of other characters guys m sorry

[dworkism]

hiii junoooo my husbands wife!! (and mine) i’ve been thinking about hanta growing out a little mustache stubble moment and he’s sooo proud of it (bc ofc he would be) and reader kinda teasing him about it but secretly really like it. if you could do something with that it’d be amazing i know you can get me right ok love u bye

BLOOM YES YOU ARE A GENIUS this idea is #PEAK

it ain't much, but it's honest work.

there's always a first time for everything. for hanta, it was growing a stubble.

pairings : hanta s. x gn!reader

cw / notes : fluff! established relationship

511 word count!

It’s been almost a week since Hanta started doing this… thing. 

First thing in the morning, he’d kiss your cheeks hard. Then spends at least three extra minutes in the bathroom, before coming out all grinning and whistling that telenovela soundtrack he loves. 

At first, you thought his mother probably sent him new clothes from his hometown. He always gets giddy for that, but nope, he hasn’t even worn anything new these past three days. Deciding to drop it, you settled it was probably him being happy from climbing the hero charts. 

That is until you were talking to him one evening, and that was when you spotted it. 

His hand—restless and looked like it wouldn’t stay still, always rubbing somewhere between his chin and under his nose. 

Oooohhhh, so that’s why. 

You snickered, the slight coarse textures of his stubble now obvious to your eyes. It wasn’t much, but hey, at least it was honest work. 

“Whaatt?” He grinned, as if he didn’t notice the way your eyes were on his chin.

“Nothing,” You brushed it off, waving your hand with a grin you couldn’t hold back. “Continue, continue.”

He cornered his lips, narrowing his eyes with a skeptical gaze, before he continued. “Well, I was saying, my gear broke mid swing! Like—literally!” His hand found its way back to his jaw, rubbing it again as he chattered away.

You blinked, stifling back a smile every time he smiled a bit wider when he touched his slight stubble, like a boy beyond proud of his newly crafted toy robot. 

With his third time of lifting his hand up from his lap to his jaw, your laughter barked out. He stared at you dumbfounded, “Whaaattt?” He whined, flopping his hands down to the couch. “You keep laughing at me!”

“You keep–” Giggling, you copied his motions. “Doing this! Every five seconds!” 

“No I don’t!!” He argued, cheeks a faint tint of peach. “It’s not that often,”

“Yes you do,” You scoffed, chuckling at his weak protest. “You look like you have a secret evil plan.” 

Hanta’s groan was muffled by a pillow, lifting up to his face as he sunk down the cushions. “So whaaat, I like it, okay?” He drawled, pulling down the pillow just enough for you to see his eyes only. “I’ve been trying to grow it, now it’s here, let me have my moment,”

You smiled, shuffling closer to his spot. Gently, you pried away the pillow, letting him show his reluctant pout to you. “I’m not teasing you because of it, silly.” Your hand found its way to his jaw, cradling his face to look at you properly. “I’m teasing you ‘cause you look like a kid who just got a piece of candy.” 

“I like it, swear.” You murmured, brushing your thumb over his slight stubble, coarse and a tad bit sharp. “You look nice with it,”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before letting his smile bloom to a grin, popping back up onto the couch to sit up straight again. 

“Okay, well as I was saying–”

dworkism | do not repost!

imagine him being SOOO brutal about it too like he'd kiss you HARD on purpose just cause you'd complain about it

taglist : @bloomness @deepinthegroves @insomniatears @coldnightshark @lilac-heartz @love-me-satoru @antriimx @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @xolunlun @idexmids @idkidk32

be a part of the tag list!

➤ masterlist!

[dworkism]

husband!katsuki bakugou

just a little brain dump so i don't get dumb at writing :P

pairings: katsuki b. x reader

cw / notes : none! reader's gender not specified!

➤ masterlist!

626 word count!

Growing up, it was easy for Katsuki to feel proud of himself to make people scared of him. He took pride in possessing his strong quirk, and his laugh would explode the same as his palms for  every time he saw Izuku’s tears. Praised from a young age, he’s always thought nothing was wrong with that. Power always conquered everything, and he was one of those who possessed it. 

And although he grew out of that, sometimes feeling stronger than everyone else still fed his ego well. He’d still smirk every time he watches the news again, the blurry video of him blasting off a villain’s face once again viral through the mouths of teenagers. He’d still laugh loud at every intern that groaned and huff at his heavy lifting training. 

His eyes met your head of hair one day at a coffee shop. Sweat, dust, and grime sticking to his suit with a scowl on his face. His nose felt dry from all the crumbs of sanded roads he’s inhaled. 

Here we go again. He thought. Another day at a coffee shop just trying to get some coarse bitterness on his tongue, to will himself to the ground after a tiring day of patrol, and he’s probably facing a nervous cashier. Sometimes they were ‘a huge fan, Mister Dynamight!’ Gushing and swooning at his simple request of latte, or they just looked like they were on the trial of their case, hands sweating and all. 

Katsuki let out a sigh as the line finally shortened to his turn to order. Lowering his collar, he cleared his throat with a roll of his eyes. 

“Welcome in, what can I get you today?” Your voice chirped happily. Not a single ‘um’ or a nervous laugh. Just that. A greeting. 

He smiles—just barely—before responding. “Just a latte,” then he hummed as he pondered over the menu, nailed up by the ceiling with dozens of drinks and snacks written upon it. “...And maybe a bacon n’ egg sandwich.” His hands already patting down his pockets for his wallet.

“Would you like the iced one, sir?” You said, eyes flickering between your fingers beeping the tablet and his looming figure. “Doesn’t cost that much more,” you coaxed cheekily. 

An amused scoff was his answer. “Fine,” he muttered, fingers flipping through the yens wedged inside his wallet. 

Way to start your first impression. 

He still recalls those days. Days when he’d purposely stop by the coffee shop after he figured out your shifts, when he started to wear that one perfume he usually only sprays on for  important meetings, or those days he became a nervous wreck again after he’d forgotten all about romance. 

Now you lay by his side, tucked away safely beneath his arm while you mumble softly about furniture you found at a website today and how they were ‘sooo cute!’ — Not that he was paying much attention, his eyes were too busy eyeing that ring that sat so pretty on your finger, glinting faint light every time your hand moved even the slightest. 

“Katsuki, you’re not listening.” Your voice giggled to his ear, gentle fingers pinching his cheek just enough to earn a heatless huff from him.

“Am too,” He gruffed out, clearing his throat while he looked away, willing the creeping peachy tint to go down from his face. His hand slowly pulled you closer again, landing his head on your shoulder. “I don’t like that couch.” Katsuki puffed, another arm snaking to your waist. 

“Whaatt? C’moon, it’s cute!” You argued with a whine, tilting your phone for him to look at the bright orange cushions better. “It’s so you too,” 

His mouth perked up to a disapproving scoff. “No, s’ too big for our house.”

You sighed in reluctance, scrolling again before you felt his fingers gently envelop your ring finger, toying with the ring that hugged it snugly.

A beat of silence followed, his breath quietly fanning by the side of your face, before he quietly quipped.

"This one's cuter."

dworkism | do not repost!

taglist : @bloomness @deepinthegroves @insomniatears @coldnightshark @lilac-heartz @love-me-satoru @antriimx @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @xolunlun @idexmids @idkidk32

be a part of the tag list!

➤ masterlist!

[dworkism]

reblogging again because I'm lazy at scrolling :P

solid line dividers ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

[ don’t forget to credit if you use them! (in the post or in the tags): @hyuneskkami ]

— red .ᐟ

— orange / yellow .ᐟ

— green .ᐟ

— blue .ᐟ

— pink .ᐟ

— purple .ᐟ

-> more

[dworkism]

GGAAAAHHHH MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN

“Bailamos”

(Soft domestic fluff, Spanish music, gentle romance)

A short Latino!Sero x Reader fanfic cause I really wanted to write Sero dancing with you to spanish music in the kitchen.

Word Count: 534

The kitchen smelled like garlic and onions, the warm savory scent mingling with the soft rhythm of the music drifting from your phone speaker. You had one hand stirring a pan and the other tapping absently against your thigh in time with the beat - some old reggaetón classic.

The chorus started, and you couldn't help it - you spun once on your heel, hips swaying as you moved to the rhythm, spoon still in hand. You sang softly to yourself, mouthing the lyrics with an exaggerated flair that made you laugh at your own performance.

And behind you, quietly leaning against the doorway, was Hanta, watching with the softest smile on his face.

He didn't say anything right away - he just stood there, arms crossed, eyes full of warmth. You hadn't noticed him yet, too caught up in your cooking-and-dancing combo.

Finally, with a quiet chuckle, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

You jumped a little, startled, but relaxed instantly as your recognized the familiar warmth of his body pressed gentle to yours. "Hanta," you gasped, laughing. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"You were too cute," he murmured, lips brushing your temple. "Couldn't resist."

The music kept playing, and without another word, he slid his hands to your hips, guiding you into a slow sway. You set the spoon down in the pan and let yourself lean into him, his taller frame rocking you both gently in time to the music.

"You like this song?" he asked softly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You nodded, smiling. "Makes me feel like I'm somewhere warm. Like I'm supposed to be barefoot and on a beach somewhere."

Sero grinned. "Mi mamá used to play it while she cleaned on Sundays," he said. "She’d grab my hand and spin me around the living room. Said I needed to have rhythm por si acaso I ever fell in love with someone who liked to dance."

You laughed, tilting your head to nuzzle against his cheek. "Guess that worked out."

He pulled you a little closer, one hand sliding up to your waist, the other cradling your hand now. He took the lead effortlessly, guiding you in a lazy circle, his voice low as he hummed along to the music.

"Me estás malacostumbrando, ya sabes," he said, eyes half-lidded and playful.

You blinked up at him. "What’s that mean?"

He smiled down at you. "You're spoiling me. Cooking, dancing, letting me hold you like this... mija, I'm never gonna want anything else."

You felt your cheeks burn, heart thumping fast. "Well... good. You're not supposed to."

His expression melted into something even softer - like he was seeing his whole world standing right in front of him, in a kitchen with music playing, and garlic on the stove.

He pulled you forward and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then hovered near your lips. "Te adoro," he whispered.

You kissed him before he could pull away, laughing a little against his mouth.

"I adore you, too," you said, resting your forehead to his.

Behind you, the food sizzled softly - but for a few more minutes, neither of you moved.

[dworkism]

STOPPPS SNSJAJSJ THIS IS SO CUTE :( i love it

Make his day, buy a bouquet!

Synopsis:

Florist!Izuku x reader

You tell Izuku that you plan to confess to your crush with a bouquet. He tries to keep it together but can't help but wonder who the lucky guy is. Later, when he finds you sitting alone on a bench in the pouring rain, tears streaming down your face, he's ready to throw hands.

Cw: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, jealousy, Izuku is oblivious, reader kinda plays with his feelings(?), incredibly cheesy

Wc: 1.8k

Not beta read!!

The sun shone through the sheer panels while Izuku was cutting the stems of the fresh dahlias he had ordered the day before. He glanced at the clock: he still had a few minutes more before he had to open the shop. Once he was done, he set the pink beauties aside and flipped over the “closed” sign to “open”.

It was only nine in the morning so Izuku wasn’t expecting any customers. Most of the time people came by in the evening, ordering an arrangement for the next day or buying a quick bouquet of roses for a dinner date and whatnot. With that in mind he allowed himself to sink into this chair behind the counter; a mug of green tea in one hand and a pencil in the other. He might as well just work on a new arrangement design while he’s waiting for customers.

Just as his pencil starts grazing the paper, the bell above the door lets out a soft chime as a head pokes through the door.

Izuku's eyes met yours, his eyebrows raised. His surprised expression was replaced with a big smile in an instant.

“Why hello, my favourite customer,” He stood up and leaned on the counter with a grin stretching across his face.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“So…what brings you here so early? I just opened the shop a few minutes ago.”

He supposed he shouldn’t really be surprised considering you’d been coming by pretty often since you’d first met.

Although you had met only a few months ago, you and Izuku had become close friends. You had stumbled upon his flower shop when it had just opened and happened to be his first ever customer. You were really sweet, listening to him ramble while he was preparing your bouquet, even offering to help when the shop was understaffed. The way you smiled at him sweetly and shook your head whenever he apologized for talking too much, or the way you’d prop your chin up against the palm of your hand and asked about the meaning of the flowers he was putting together— it just made him feel all gushy and flustered.

Despite working with flowers every day, Izuku had discovered that you were even more pleasing to look at than any of the flowers that were sitting pretty on the shelves.

He had never met anyone who was so attentive towards him, so patient with him. He found himself smiling every time you came by, eagerly waiting for the next time he’d get to chat with you.

You snort at the nickname and place your hands on the counter, leaning in a bit. “Today will be a great day, ‘Zuku. Today I'm going to confess to the guy I like!”

Izuku’s smile falters for a second and you don’t miss the way the light in his eyes dims.

“Oh.”

He quickly clears his throat and tries to maintain the cheerful demeanor he had just a second ago.

“Right! Right, uh..Of course. And I’m guessing you want to get him a bouquet? That’s really nice..I uh..Yeah, I can do that.”

He looks at the small smile plastered across your face— you seemed happy, you’d been his friend for a while so he should be happy for you, should be excited.

He clears his throat again, “So…Who’s the lucky guy? I don’t remember you mentioning anybody to me,” he asked, trying his best not to sound upset.

“Oh well, I met him a few months ago. He’s really sweet, and hella smart too,” you giggled, a faint blush on your cheeks.

Izuku felt his heart sink even further.

He gave a small nod and a forced smile, he was happy for you, really he was…

“ooh…he sounds nice.”

He looked up from the flowers he had already started picking out to meet your eyes again and quickly looked back down.

“Okay well, for the arrangement I think we start off with some white carnations, they uh..they are often associated with pure love and devotion.” he cleared his throat for what seemed like the fifth time. “Do you perhaps know what his favourite flower is?”

You perk up slightly, “lisianthuses” you cherp immediately.

Another pang of jealousy shot through him as he grabbed the requested flowers. Of course you knew the guy's favourite flowers off the top of your head.

“Lisianthuses…gratitude, appreciation, and lasting bonds. Also considered a symbol of rising above challenges,” he mutters, turning to the shelf behind him.

“Well, he has good taste. I like those too.”

He can’t help the bitter smile that forms on his face as you happily talk about your soon-to-be boyfriend.

“And they’ll fit nicely into the arrangement.” He adds, not daring to look up from the flowers he was working on.

You look through all the flower options before suggesting “I was thinking you could add some baby’s breath too. They represent innocence and purity, right?”

Izuku turned around to look at you with surprise,

“...You remember?”

“‘Course I remember. You think I don’t listen when you talk?” You tilted your head with a small smile.

He chuckled a bit, a smile of his own forming on his face, he shook his head, “I mean, you’re a great listener, but I tend to go on so much about the flowers that I didn’t know if you’d remember,” He grabbed a small handful of the white, bell shaped flowers, adding them into the arrangement carefully, setting them in the middle of the carnations, “but yeah, you’re right they symbolize purity and innocence…”

He finally looked up to meet your eyes.

“You’ll have to tell me how it goes…okay?” He tried his best to keep a cheerful tone.

You quickly nodded with a cheeky smile, “Trust me, you’ll be the first to know.”

Forcing another smile, he looked back at the bouquet, “Good.”

He set the vase down on the counter in front of you before he began wrapping it up in thin white crepe paper, trying his best to ignore the small ache in his heart knowing it was a gift for some other guy, “You know,” he said quietly, “whoever he is, he’s really lucky to have you” he looked you in the eyes and for a moment everything went still.

“There…all done.” He tied the ends of the paper with a pink ribbon before setting it down in front of you.

A small wave of heat passed over your face at his words, your lips curving into a small smile as you looked down at the finished bouquet of flowers, “I’m the lucky one…he’s incredible.” you said, not braking eye contact.

With a quiet huff, Izuku looked away to check you out.

It was now four in the afternoon, and there was rain coming down in relentless sheets. Luckily, Izuku had grabbed his umbrella on the way out.

His shift was over, and all he wanted was to go home, crawl into bed, and maybe cry himself to sleep. Was he being overly dramatic? Perhaps. But he’d been holding back tears from the moment you ordered that bouquet.

As he made his way through the park on his way home, he noticed a figure sitting hunched over on a bench. No umbrella, no raincoat. They were clutching what looked like a bouquet in their hands. The rain dripped from their hair and shoulders, yet they seemed lost in their own quiet world.

Could it be?

Izuku’s eyes widened as he quickened his pace, rushing toward the figure on the bench. And sure enough, it was you. As he drew closer, he caught the faint sound of quiet sniffles. He called your name softly twice before you slowly turned to face him.

“Izuku…?”

Your voice barely above a whisper.

His heart clenched at the look in your eyes—so miserable. It hurt him to see you like this, sitting there in the rain, tears shimmering on your cheeks.

“Hey now,” Izuku said softly, kneeling down in front of you and offering a gentle, reassuring smile. He held the umbrella above both of you, shielding you from the pouring rain as he looked into your eyes with concern. “What happened? Talk to me.”

“It’s just— it was supposed to be a surprise! It was meant to be romantic!” You sniffled again, voice trembling. “Once I had the bouquet, I wanted to get tickets for the flower show, but they were all sold out. And then it started pouring… the flowers got ruined, my clothes are soaked…and I just…everything’s a mess.”

Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed in sympathy. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured softly. “If he rejected you just because everything wasn't perfect then he's an idiot and doesn't deserve you. You’re doing all this for him, you put in all this effort.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, you hesitated before speaking again, “It’s for you. You’re the guy.” You took a shaky breath. “I planned this to ask you out. I was going to surprise you after your shift… but now everything’s ruined. I— I’m sorry.” You look down at your lap, avoiding eye contact.

Izuku’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, processing your words.He reached out gently, taking your trembling hands into his. You raised your gaze to him as you felt his warm fingers cup your cheek. Without another word, Izuku leaned in closer and pressed his lips softly to yours in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. The rain continued to fall around you both, but that didn’t upset you anymore.

He pulled away and a small, shy smile tugged at his lips as he squeezed your hands gently. “You don’t need a fancy plan or perfect timing, I already think you’re ama-” you cut him off by pulling him into another kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips.

“You’re gonna have to pay for what you put me through, though,” he teased softly, a playful glint in his eyes. “I can’t believe you had me make my own bouquet and then made me think it was for another guy!”

You giggled at his teasing, pressing another quick peck to his lips. “I know. That was cruel. But I was going to make it up to you with the flower show tickets!”

Izuku chuckled softly, his expression softening. “Whatever, I’m happy anyway.” He paused, then gently brushed a damp strand of hair from your face. “Now let’s get you home and dry you off, yeah?”

A/n: not my best work, feel like I definitely could've written this better. Also this was heavily inspired by this.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated though!

Deviders are by @thecutestgrotto !!

[dworkism]

SAAAVVVE MEEEE BLOOM SAAAVE MEEEE

Oh hi bloom! What a suprise event that I did not know was happening 😱 you are so creative! (I’m still sad u scrapped track 19 💔) but ANYWAYS I want a sero fic for track 12 yeahhh and I guesss you can add Mina and jirou since you already did 😞 joking I love them they’re so hot… ALSO HAPPY FIVE MILLION AGAIN!! Give me half your trillion dollar earnings pls and ty

lovers rock by tv girl ft. sero hanta event m.list

contains: f!reader implied, fluff word count: 1.5k

“come on!” hanta laughed as he tugged on your arm. 

“no! i don’t want to die today, han! pllleaseee, spare me!” you shout back as you squirm around in your boyfriend's grasp—half joking, half not.

“you’re not gonna die!” he counters. hanta shakes his head at your thrashing and lets go of your wrist to pull his wallet out from his back pocket. “this,” he says as he flips his wallet open. “is proof you’re in safe hands.”

inside, you can see his new driver's license tucked into the photo id window of his wallet. his toothy grin is on display, wide and shining bright. his eyes are scrunched up above them, joy extremely prominent. the bottom of the id reads:

sex: m

hgt: 5’-11”

eyes: brn

iss: 05/30/2025

may thirtieth. just five days ago, hanta had taken his on-the-road driver's test (after two failed attempts, which he made you promise to never bring up again, ever) and thankfully, this time he passed. 

you thought you had a while, at least a month, before he’d offer to drive you around. 

you were extremely wrong. 

the text that followed “i passed!” was “wanna go for a ride? i can pick you up right now!” and it sent an alarmingly cold shiver down your spine. 

you love your boyfriend, very dearly. he’s good at many things; making the perfect popcorn that wasn’t too sweet and wasn’t salty. finding your lost jewelry in the mess that you call a room. building intercately complicated legos just to tear them apart and do it again. 

you could acknowledge hanta’s many talents. 

but along the same line, your boyfriend isn’t perfect; he’s not the best at math, but you don’t hold that against him. he struggles to distinguish the difference between the words effect and affect. he eats way too much junk food to be considered healthy. and most importantly, he’s not a good driver. 

and although he looks stupidly happy in his professional photo with his signature dorky grin, you can’t help but wonder who it was that thought it was a good idea to authorize your boyfriend to continue to haunt the roads with his uncoordinated presence. 

“and this.” he dangled his keys up in front of you. “is gonna be one hot car ride.” he leaned in to kiss you, making you remember another flaw about your very human boyfriend; his awfully timed kisses. 

you, as politely as you could, ignored the kiss and snatched the key from his hands. “fine. but no messing around.” you demanded as you walked past him and toward the car. 

hanta was right on your heel, “you got it babe!”

he ran ahead of you just in time to open the passenger door, “go ahead milady.” he announced with a dramatic bow. 

you stepped in, muttering a quiet, playfully, “dork” as he closed the door for you. all smiles despite your insult. 

hanta quickly traveled past the setting sun outside to the driver's side of the car. you watched as he sat down and closed the car door. you watched as he then as he buckled his seatbelt and then adjusted his mirror.

hanta looked over to your surveillancing eyes, “what?” he flashed you a toothy grin, one that mirrored his license photo almost exactly. 

“just making sure you’re doing everything right…” you responded cautiously.

“oh come on,” hanta’s hand found yours and brought it up clse to him. he held your hand with such reverence, as if i was a sacred treasure that he was glad he had the honor to be in the same vehicle with. “you think i’d drive unsafe with you in the car?” hanta titled his head toward you, “i wouldn’t dream of it.” he kissed the flat of your hand, then your knuckles, then peered up at you through his lashes. “you trust me?”

your face flushed at his words that felt way more intimate than they probably should’ve. “just drive..” you murmured as you attempted to hide your flusteredness by glancing away—though you know that hanta knows you and your emotions better than anyone, especially when you get razzled up like this.

thankfully, hanta chose not to tease you now. he chuckled, “you’re cute.” hanta let go of your hand and pressed the ignition button near the steering wheel. the car started with a jump and a low growl, and hanta shifted the car's gear into drive. “alright, let’s get this baby on the road.”

though the season had yet to officially start, the symptoms of summer solstice were apparent and already affecting the city of tokyo. 

the clock just below the car’s dashboard read 7:03, yet it seemed like the sun had just begun to make this trip down to the western part of the world. the sun had a tangerine hue to it today, one that shone bright through the mountainous horizon—clouds huddled near, not over cluttering but complementing the star.

the road you two were driving down looked long, like you could catch up to the sun if you drove fast enough. trees surrounded the path and lingered over the poles and skylines, making everything seem more surreal than it already was. there were no other cars in sight which left just you, hanta, and the wind whistling in your ears. 

sunlight filtered through the car's windshield and littered its inside contents, the dashboard that hanta had already begun to decorate with little trinkets and gimmicks, the black leather seats that soaked up all the sun's heat underneath you, but most noticeably, hanta’s face. 

the window on his side was slightly open, which caused the top of his shaggy mullet to dance along with the wind, frizzy and free. his eyes were focused, glowing, and free. 

he looks so kissable.

you stared at him shamelessly now. 

hanta glanced over at you, soft smile on his lips. his eyes made their way back to the road before you could make a quick, witted comment about his distracted driving. “hey, do me a favor?”

“hmm?”

“open the glove compartment.”

your eyes narrowed in suspicion. but you obeyed, leaning forward and flicking the compartment open.

inside was a neatly placed dvd case labeled, ‘for our first ride’ with a smiley face and heart doodle next to it. 

you took the dvd into your hands and flipped it around. there was a long track of songs written on it, a couple of songs you recognized from your shared playlist with hanta that you two had compiled months ago. at the bottom in bold was written ‘and to many more, love hanta.’

you turn to him to find his eyes already on you. you smile, “you couldn’t make a spotify playlist?” you tease as you tilt the dvd up towards your head.

“come on babe, you know i like it old school. Plus, it’s more romantic this way.” his lips curled up into a stupid, large grin before his eyes softened, “you like it..?”

you shook your head, “of course i like it dummy.” you nudged his arm and his eyes lit up again as he silently nodded to himself. 

you opened the dvd case and slipped it into the dvd player of the car. there was a small scratching sound before—

“are you sick of me?”

“would you like to be?”

you looked to hanta as the familiar melody played through the car's speakers, “lovers rock?”

“perfect for us—for now, right?”

“god, you’re—“ you had been smiling for so long now that your cheeks were starting to feel numb. “unbelievable.” you looked at your boyfriend, showered in the sun's blessing, carefree expression on his face—completely content just being here with you. “yeah,” you nodded your head as you hand reached over the console to intertwine with his. “it’s perfect.”

“you like a pretty boy.”

“with a pretty voice.”

hanta squeezed your hand in his and kept it close to his cheek, leaning against it and kissing your knuckles occasionally. 

he kept stealing glances at you, short ones that didn’t leave you concerned about the safety of the ride but still left a ghostly feeling of love in your heart. 

“and if she grabs for your hand and drags you along.”

“what?” you finally spoke after what had to be the dozenth peep from the love-drunken boy. 

“you might wanna kiss before the end of the song.”

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your hand. “can i kiss you?” he already began to place feather-soft kisses on your hand as he looked up at you with the most pleading eyes you’ve ever seen. and you’d be an absolute idiot to say no. 

“you—“ you started, but couldn’t quite find the words to reject your patiently pleading boyfriend. you sighed, “pay attention to the road, han.”

hanta’s eyes flattered, just barely, before they fluttered back to the road. his hand reminded firm in yours. 

he held on tight, like if he let go, you’d fly up into the sky and land among all the stars where you belonged. 

you looked at your dramatically sad boyfriend and rolled your eyes before leaning over and kissing his cheek. hanta’s posture immediately straightened when your soft lips met his cheek, dimple already forming a dent in his cheek that you knew wouldn’t go away for at least a couple of minutes.  

you pulled away and—of course—hanta was glowing now. “we can kiss properly at the next red light, kay?”

he nodded and squeezed your hand again. he didn’t say anything smart, feeling completely content—knowing things couldn’t get much better than this.  

note: peach!!! thank u for the request i literally love u sm for picking this for hanta i loved writing it. we’re gonna ignore the overall message of the song and focus on the cute parts! anyways, i hope you like this and you will be getting proper compensation (my love and care) mwah have a good day.

taglist: @stargirlygirl

[dworkism]

i looooooooovvveee writing for fantasy au but OH MY GOOSSH ITS SO HARD TO CRAFT AN ENDING FOR IT

all these fantasy au works in my blog???? I had to ask my mom what she thinks would be a great ending to em 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂

[dworkism]

knightly duties. ᯓ knight!katsuki bakugou.

beyond the walls of the kingdom, enemies lurked in the dark. hunters, assasins, faes. and it was katsuki's duty to protect the kingdom. protect the kingdom. not the enemy.

pairings: knight!katsuki b. x fae!reader

cw / notes : fem!reader, possible cursing, possible ooc.

➤ masterlist!

3,1k word count!

Way beyond hills and mountains, a kingdom stood. Busy and bustling, lively with all chatters that sang along with the birds. Children running around with cheers in their voices, shouts of haggling prices along the markets, and even carriages galloping about the streets.

All amongst that, melodies of swords clanging to each other, Katsuki stood by a wooden dummy, his brows collecting sweat as he grunted with every swing of his sword.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Run. 

Run.

Run!!

Legs, don’t fail me now. 

Your breaths caught by your throat. The wound in your stomach screamed for you to stop but you can’t. You mustn’t, not when a hunter is still by your tail, relentless. Branches crushed beneath your feet, prickling your step as you ran and ran. They’re still there. You can still smell the smoke from their cigarettes, the metal embellishments from their shoes clinking behind you, running. Faster, faster!

Cheeks wet and sticky from your tears, your throat felt slimy from keeping all your sobs quiet. Every step seemed to only make your injury feel worse and worse. Gods, hear me now…

“C’mon, pretty fae!!” They guffawed, their voices seemed a bit further. “Those wings of yours can be a real fortune to us!”

Another step, another one, you must keep up. Or else they will.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Katsuki had a soft grumble on his face, the chatters of his fellow knights echoing behind him, blending into the forest’s hum of leaves. He huffed. 

This is a waste of my time. He thought. 

What good was hunting down illegal poachers in broad daylight anyway? Those poachers probably had memorized the knights’ schedules of patrolling in the woods. He’ll find nothing, nothing at all except for critters and—

Crack!

He paused. Crimson eyes narrowing in suspicion, then he shrugged.

A mouse, perhaps. 

The blonde knight’s armor rang softly as he walked again, his hand now perched lazily on the hilt of his sword as he glanced from side to side, scanning the forest. 

But now his breath echoed. With every breath he took, the forest seemed to say the same. The chatters of his lads now had died behind him, leaving only him and the fallen leaves on the forest floors. Katsuki paused once more, his scowl stood strong on his face, brows stitched together as his eyes darted to the left and to the right. 

Again. His breath echoed again. 

No.

Someone—or something—is here, too.

Then his eyes snapped awake. Just now he realized; the branches are torn, leaves dragged to one direction, maroon blood drops scattered all over the trees, dragged there, or even a small splatter. 

He slowed his breaths. Quieter. 

Then he heard it. Your breaths. 

Quick, panicked, pained. 

Small whimpers of pain registered in his ears as he slowly walked closer, his hand gripping his sword tight. 

With a swift motion, Katsuki’s legs stepped to the wounded creature’s side, his sword pulled up slightly as he eyed the figure that lay now on the ground.

Slowly, his face twisted to disgust. Almost as if reluctant, he spat. “Fae.” 

The one beneath his chin now panted helplessly. Your arm stretched out to him, silently begging him to spare your life, with eyes wide in terror, while your other hand clutched your wound, your dried blood trickling down your trembling fingers. 

“P-please, human, I—”

“Silence.” He spat, a hum of a sword slashed through the air as he pointed its eye to your chin. “Wicked creature.”

Your breath hitched, the faint buzz of headache already gnawing by the back of your head as you swallowed your spit. “I..I mean no harm…spare me, I beg of you,” you croaked, albeit barely. 

“Nonsense.” Said Katsuki, scoffing with a bitter smirk on his face. “Your kind brings nothing but trouble.” 

With a small sigh, you frowned at him, dropping your outstretched arm to your side as you shuffled yourself close to the tree, letting your back lean against it. Your breaths stayed heavy, and it continued to be heavier. Perhaps it’s from the running.

Or maybe you were dying. 

The arrow stayed persistent there, lunged into your stomach and every little movement seemed to make the blade of its head slit deeper into your body. Your stomach feels hot from the blood rushing out, and your eyes are seeing twins of the human before you. 

So you drifted your gaze away from his piercing eyes. Letting the sun gently caress your skin as you looked at the rays of warmth that fell between the leaves.

“If that…”

“If that is what you believe,” Your voice came thin, cracked. “Then please…make it quick.”

But he faltered.

Of course Katsuki had nothing but hatred for enemies of the kingdom. After eight years of trudging through the muddy floors of the knights’ barracks, his brain had memorized that awful song those knights always sing, his blood had echoed the slogan of the kingdom knights. All his life was taught to protect and to act fast, 

to never show mercy to the enemies.

But most of all, Katsuki was never told to murder carelessly. 

A voice in his heart told him to just kill you. Slash your neck and it’ll be the right thing. He’s a knight. He’d be praised for successfully killing a fae. 

Yet he didn’t. His sword stayed still, perched by the end of your chin. 

Screw this. He thought.

So he lowered his sword, the metal sang as he sheathed it back. Katsuki grunted as he looked away with shame in his eyes. 

“You’re hurt.” He muttered, and you nodded. 

“Yes. Yes I am,” 

His eyes met your figure again.

“Are you…able to stand, or walk?” 

You shook your head slowly, stopping as your vision blurred again. “No,” your voice said quietly. “My head… it spins when I try to,” 

He huffed softly, then a groan escaped his lips as if he was asked to clean the horse stables. 

“To hell with this..” Hissed Katsuki with a scowl. 

His hand slowly slid under your knee, the other gently braced your back as he slowly rose to his feet, eyeing you down with those angry eyes. 

“The watchtower is not a far walk from here.” He grumbled to you, “I’ll tend to your wounds there. But you must stay quiet. Understood?” 

You froze for a moment—you have been since the moment he braced you up into his arms. It’s hard to say, should you be thankful? Should you be scared? He’s a human after all, must you trust him this easily? 

So you stared at him for a moment as he spoke, eyes wide with disbelief and confusion. 

But then a small flash of sympathy and… something else passed by his eyes. And at that you smiled.

“Thank you, human.” Your smile bloomed, though it quivers. 

“Just don’t make too much noise.” Katsuki’s steps slowly bounced you by his arms, “And it’s Katsuki. Not—human.”

The watchtower wasn’t far from the town—though still inside of the woods. It stood tall from the trees, with vines trying to catch up to it, reaching for the roof. The stone walls had grown green, some walls had holes to peek through. Katsuki placed you gently on the top floor, with fabrics lazily dropped to the floor for you to rest on. 

Water softly dripped from the roof, spider webs lined the wooden frames, dust gathering by it. 

“You’ll be safe here,” He said, hands already gripping a cloth tight to rip it. “As long as you don’t make a sound. Understand?” The cloth cried out as he tore it, carefully pressing it onto your wound. It earned a small whimper from you while you nodded. 

“Forgive me,” He whispered, wrapping the cloth around your wound to tie it tight. 

He looked at it for a moment before lifting his gaze back to your face, “If— and only if anyone does come here,” Katsuki raised his finger. “You scream. Loud as you can, make it sound like a witch… or something.” 

Your lips curled to a small chuckle, half-lidded eyes searching for light to see his figure. “A witch?” 

“Yes.” He deadpanned. “..And don’t go singin’ songs or—whatever you things do.” 

“What if… I need to search for food?” You tilted your head, “I’ll need to go out, no?” 

The knight’s lips stayed pursed as he furrowed his brows deeper. “I’ll bring you it.” 

A small giggle was what you replied with before you slipped a small “Alright.”

With a small huff, he stood up. His armor clinked softly as he walked to the stairs once more, before he turned around. “And don’t complain.” He added before vanishing down the stairs, leaving the watchtower’s empty space to stretch wide with quietness. 

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

This is strange. Unlikely. He’s not usually this way. 

Eijiro had seen it. The way his fellow knight had been looking into the shadows before he slipped a bread into his small satchel, how he’d slip out of the barracks in the dark of night, when he was always the one who insisted a strict schedule was important. 

At first, Eijiro had only guessed the blonde had finally found a woman who would tolerate all his scowls. 

But no.

Who—in their right mind—would go into the woods with the night not seeping any light but the moon’s? The villagers had always feared the woods, children taught to never go there once the sun had bid its goodbye.

And now—Katsuki.

A knight known for his sharp movements and eyes that darted faster than a train, is suddenly going there, at night? Alone?

“Something’s not addin’ up.” Eijiro muttered as he munched on his bread, his head fixed on the scowl-faced knight. 

“The rations always get smaller when ya slack off, Eij.” Denki snickered, nudging Hanta for approval, earning a small chuckle from the ravenette. The redhead clicked his tongue, “It ain’t that.” He hissed in annoyance, turning his head to face the two in front of him. “Katsuki— he ain’t actin’ right.” 

Denki waved his spoon to the air, drawing out his noise. “Man’s probably found himself a woman, Eij.” The knight smiled happily, gesturing to Katsuki. “Ah, young love..” He hummed, leaning himself to Hanta’s shoulder dramatically before he got pushed off with a mock whine from the taller one. 

“Den’s right, Red. He’s a fine one after all,” Hanta shrugged, sipping his last spoonful of soup, stuffing the bread into his mouth along with it. “Women had lined up for him even since we were still squires.” He added.

That’s not it. Eijiro thought. 

No, Katsuki’s all but silent about his love. He is all but suspicious. He’d seen him smitten. And this—this isn’t it.

Deciding it wasn’t something to drop, Eijiro now found himself cloaked, hiding by the kitchen wall as Katsuki seemed to slip something into his satchel—again. He slipped an apple inside, a bread, a single slice of pie, and even a small block of cheese he said he hated. With slow steps, Katsuki made his way out the barracks, clutching his satchel close to his hip while he made his way to the woods. 

Eijiro wasn’t proud of himself, no. But he just had to know.

What if his best mate was being used? What if he was in trouble?

So he followed him out, his steps—he memorized it, at every five steps, Katsuki’s figure paused his steps, watching his back to see if anyone followed him, and Eijiro slipped past into the shadows quickly to escape his gaze. 

A trail had even formed in the grass from Katsuki’s consistent steps and visits. He’d been taking the same route—over and over again.

Eijiro waited until Katsuki seemed to enter something before he followed him further into the woods. 

That’s when he saw it.

The watchtower. Tall, looming way beyond him, vines as if swinging their hands, telling him to go back. And Eijiro had to gulp back his frown, forcing himself to calm down. The watchtower children had cried back to their parents, saying they saw ghosts inside, the watchtower that’s been abandoned for years, now had a faint hue of candlelight by its window from Katsuki’s lantern. 

Thank the gods Katsuki’s hand didn’t pull the door far enough to close. Eijiro easily slipped inside, the leather bottoms of his shoes softly padded up the stairs, and his ears picked up small giggles of a woman, followed by Katsuki’s gentle—gentle voice replying something.

“Katsuki, you’ve brought too much.” You chided with a small chuckle, your finger carefully tore the bread apart. “Your friends might think you’ve grown greedy.”

Katsuki dismissed your statement with a scoff, “No, they do not know I come here.” He waved off.

As he peeked his head before the floor, Eijiro’s heart froze.

The faint glimmer of moonlight echoing from your wings, your ears reaching out further, your fanged smile.

A fae.

Katsuki Bakugou. 

Had been keeping a fae.

Eijiro didn’t think. His sword slashed to your chin in the blink of an eye, even before Katsuki could hear his breath. “You traitor!!” He roared, his sword still on your neck as he looked Katsuki's way. “You—Unchivalrous bastard!!!” 

“Eijiro put that down.” Katsuki commanded back, struggling to keep his voice leveled. 

“No!!” Eijiro scowled. “How could you?! After—after what they did!!” His voice cracked with betrayal, an edge of disbelief lacing his face as he edged the sword closer to your neck, making your breath hitch.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. His blade was still too close. But your eyes stayed wide, pleading at Katsuki to do something—anything.

“Eijiro she means no harm–”

“Bullshit! Katsuki you know better than this!!” He gritted his teeth, one arm stretched out to keep Katsuki away from him, the other still keeping the blade by your neck.

“Wake up, Katsuki!! These–... things are evil creatures!! Wicked!!—how are you—!” 

“I found her helpless by the forest floor, Eijiro!! Dying!” Katsuki bit back, “I wasn’t leaving a life to die!”

The red one scoffed, barking a bitter laugh. “Well maybe you should have!!” 

“Get away, this instant!!” Katsuki shouted, shoving Eijiro’s chest harshly to the side as he rushed to you. His scowl immediately softened to a small worried look as he lifted your chin, scanning your neck of any injuries. The hands that would tear a sword through a fae’s stomach—now gently brushed his thumb over a small graze on where the sword had laid before. 

“Are you alright?” Gently, he asked, bringing your eyes to look at him once more. A faint nod was what you managed, your hands slowly gripped at his tunic. “Are you alright?” He repeated. 

“Yes, Katsuki.” Your voice came out as a breath, nodding once more.

Eijiro’s lips quirked up in a scoff, his grin bitter with unacceptance. “You’ve been charmed. That’s what you are, Katsuki.” He mocked, swinging his sword as he pointed to the blonde. “Soft. Weak!” Spat Eijiro. 

“I saw our own mentors killed by these things. Crops died because of em!” He continued, betrayal swam deep in his voice. “And now you choose to be protectin’ them?!” 

Katsuki—once stayed silent, tending to you—slowly rose to his feet. His brows stitched together, his already sharp crimson eyes shot deeper.

“You think I didn’t see them kill my mentor, Red?” His voice was low, not with anger—some sort of threat lingered in his tone. “I’ve killed her kind. Burned their wings, some even I cut down to sell.” He pointed to your way, eyes still fixed to Eijiro while his steps slowly neared Eijiro’s form.

The sword kissed Katsuki’s chest, that was when he stopped. “I’m not bein’ weak, Red.” 

“You weren’t there.” 

“You weren’t there when I saw her bloodied up from being hunted down.” 

His finger jabbed slowly to Eijiro’s chest. “You didn’t see her beg me to spare. Her. Life.”

Then he paused. A small breath.

“I’m a knight, Eijiro.” Katsuki pointed to himself, “A knight. Ya hear me? Not a killer.”

“When someone begs me to live, I’ll let them live.” 

“Screw chivalry if all it means to it is to kill.” Turning his heel back to face you, Katsuki settled back to your side.

Slowly, Eijiro’s sword found its way back into its sheath. He scoffed. This is ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. 

…And yet he agrees.

“Fine.” Eijiro muttered reluctantly, “...Know that you are committing treason, Katsuki.” He threatened, earning a glare from the said knight.

“If being human is treason, so be it.” He said lowly, his hands busy wrapping a blanket over your shoulders, leaning to the side as he made sure not to damage your delicate wings. “Go then,”

“Go, if you wish to report.” Katsuki glanced at Eijiro, who still stood by the stairs, his hands still trembling upon the hilt of his sword. 

With a small shuffle, Eijiro huffed as he turned away, descending down to the spiraling stairs.

Your eyes followed the redhead’s descending figure before it flicked back to Katsuki, whose face still scrunched into a scoff as he tore a cloth to change the one wrapping your stomach.

“He’ll report you, Katsuki.” You warned him quietly, watching as he gently wiped down the blood lingering by your skin. “You must go back,” 

“No.” He denied, wrapping the cloth to your waist, “I don’t care. I’m not doin’ anything wrong.” 

“Yes you are!” You stopped his hands, your palm gently tilting his face up. “Katsuki, I ask of you to be wiser here, I am an enemy of this kingdom.” You pleaded. 

“Your oath—”

“I know my oath.” Katsuki tore his face away, continuing to tie the cloth tight to your healing wound. “My oath is to protect those who are weak.” 

“Not to kill those that did not do wrong.” 

A sigh flew past your lips in resignation, his hands finished his ministrations, wiping his hands to his pants as he sat back to take a look at you. 

“...You should have just let me die that day,” 

His eyes immediately found yours, sharp—angry.

“Quiet.” Katsuki growled. “Do not say things like that.” 

You looked at him like a mother looking at her mud-covered child. So persistent, so driven. Not even for a reward, he did this just because.

“...I am not your friend, Katsuki.” 

“S’not like I need any,” He bluntly said, standing up to his feet. 

“Rest. I’ll be back with food tomorrow.” He mumbled quietly, as he started descending to the stairs with a small shuffle to his steps.

“Katsuki..?” 

His steps paused, you earned a small grunt from him in response. 

“Thank you,” 

“...There’s nothing to thank for.”

dworkism | do not repost!

raaaaaghhhhhhhhhhhhhh i hate the ending but oh well.........................

taglist : @bloomness @deepinthegroves @insomniatears @coldnightshark @lilac-heartz @love-me-satoru

be a part of the tag list!

➤ masterlist!

[dworkism]

oh my days i didn't even realize we have 108 friends here yay 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶