Just Saw Your Cheerleader X Bhna Boys And 🤯🤯 I LOVE ITT

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@aboodfmly

do consider this one, everyone :)

you wrote this so beautifully like actually. it's gorgeous, like WOW mind blown

tell my mom we're in love | h. sero

fake dating wasn't on your holiday to-do list—until sero invited you home for tamales and chaos (3525 words)

you regretted this the moment you stepped out of the dormitory and into the sharp chill of mid-december air, a duffel bag hanging off one shoulder and your dignity already teetering on the edge. trailing beside you was hanta sero, practically vibrating with the smug energy of a man who had just talked his best friend into making the worst decision of her academic career.

and technically, he had.

somewhere between his mother's increasingly invasive matchmaking attempts and his inability to say the word "no" like a normal person, he'd decided the solution was to invent a girlfriend. and of course, of course, he'd chosen you.

"come on," he said now, as a cab idled at the curb, white exhaust curling into the crisp air like smoke from a slow-burning disaster. "tell me this won't be fun. just a little bit."

"i think i'm too emotionally aware to find this fun," you muttered, hoisting your bag into the trunk as he leaned beside you with his usual careless grace.

sero grinned—that unbothered, insufferably pretty grin that always made it harder to stay annoyed with him for long. "emotionally aware, huh? sounds like you're already getting into character."

you leveled him with a look. "if i'm your girlfriend, you're going to need to stop flirting like a golden retriever with a god complex."

"babe," he said, slipping into the backseat beside you with the kind of unearned confidence that should have come with a warning label, "flirting is literally how i survive in social settings. don't take this from me."

you stared out the window, hoping the freezing glass would cool the creeping warmth crawling up your neck. "we're not actually dating, hanta."

"right," he said, and he sounded amused, not wounded. "but we could be really good at it."

you didn't answer. he didn't press.

the cab pulled away from the dorms, and for a moment the silence between you was companionable, like it always had been. you'd known sero for years now—long enough to understand that his laid-back demeanor was as real as it was performative. he was the kind of person who made a room feel lighter just by being in it, but who also knew the weight of silence better than most people ever would.

he didn't make you feel like you had to be anyone but yourself. and that, unfortunately, was the root of the problem.

somewhere along the road from "we're just friends" to "please pretend to be my girlfriend so my mom stops trying to marry me off," things had started to shift.

not all at once. not obviously.

but they shifted.

now he was dozing beside you, his head tilted toward your shoulder, and every bump in the road made him inch closer. you should have nudged him off. you should have drawn the line.

but you didn't.

instead, you studied the soft lines of his face—the relaxed set of his mouth, the faint crease between his brows like his dreams were just a little too fast for his thoughts to catch—and you wondered what the hell you'd gotten yourself into.

by the time the cab slowed, the sun had dipped low, casting golden light over a neighborhood that looked far too idyllic to be real. sero's house was two stories of warmth and welcome: string lights curled along the porch railing, a wreath hung slightly crooked on the front door, and smoke drifted lazily from a chimney that promised something warm inside.

standing at the threshold was a woman with sharp eyes, a kind smile, and the unmistakable aura of someone who could both bake you cookies and emotionally destroy you in the same breath.

sero's mother.

you froze.

he didn't.

without hesitation, sero leaned in, brushing your hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. his voice dipped just low enough for only you to hear. "smile like you love me."

then he reached for your hand.

his fingers, long and warm, laced effortlessly through yours.

you didn't pull away.

and that was the moment—standing at the edge of his childhood, your fingers locked in his, heart skipping in the kind of rhythm you weren't prepared for—that you realized you were in far more danger than you thought.

because part of you didn't want to let go.

the cab hadn't even rolled to a full stop before sero's mom was standing in front of it, arms crossed, eyes already locked onto her target like a seasoned general. you had seen pictures, sure—sero had shown you a few over lunch one day, swiping through images of his mom with an almost reverent fondness—but none of them did her justice.

she was radiant. that was the first word that came to mind. not in some soft, dreamy way, but in the sharp, unmistakable warmth of someone who had mastered the art of existing unapologetically. she had a scarf looped carelessly around her neck, dark hair pinned up with wisps escaping, and that immediate, unnerving energy unique to mothers who know everything before you say a word.

"hanta," she said brightly as you approached. "you took forever, mijo. i was about to call."

and then her eyes slid to you.

her whole face changed.

"qué linda," she said, stepping down toward you without hesitation. "you're even prettier than the pictures."

you opened your mouth to answer—say something polite, maybe even charming—but instead you were pulled into a hug so warm and familiar you forgot how to speak altogether.

she smelled like cinnamon and butter, like café and home. her arms wrapped around you without hesitation, solid and reassuring, and you blinked twice before realizing she wasn't letting go just yet.

she pulled back, hands on your shoulders, eyes scanning your face with curiosity. "how old are you, mija?"

"seventeen," you managed. "ua student. same class as hanta."

"top twenty," sero chimed from behind you, proud and useless.

his mom smiled wider. "good. you'll need that to keep up with him. he talks too much."

"i'm right here," sero said, offended.

"and what's your quirk, sweetheart?" she asked, guiding you inside like she owned every molecule of the house—which she probably did.

"just a luck quirk," you replied. "it's not anything big or flashy."

"flashy's overrated," she said. "flashy gets you on magazine covers, but smart keeps you alive. hanta could use some of that balance."

sero made a wounded noise. "i'm right here."

you stepped into the house and tried not to gape. it was warm and lived-in, with mismatched furniture and soft lights, and framed photos in every direction. you passed at least three different versions of baby sero—one with cake on his face, one dressed as a shark, and one in a tiny suit looking like he'd lost a bet.

you were immediately ushered to the couch, where sero flopped down beside you like he'd done this a thousand times. his arm stretched along the back of the cushions behind you, easy and casual, but you felt the heat of it like a brand against your neck.

his mom sat in the armchair across from you, one leg crossed, hands folded, expression deceptively pleasant.

"so," she said. "how long have you two been together?"

"six months," you and sero answered in unison.

your eyes met. you both smiled.

it was practiced, but god—it didn't feel like a lie.

"how'd you meet?" she asked next.

sero leaned forward like he was telling a secret. "training. she beat up kaminari. i've never recovered."

you tried not to laugh. "he followed me around for a week."

"i was courting you."

"you were loitering near vending machines."

"i was being persistent," he corrected. "it worked, didn't it?"

his mom watched you both, eyes narrowed just enough to make you sweat.

"and what do you like about my son?" she asked you, suddenly.

your mouth went dry.

sero glanced sideways, surprised.

but the answer came easy.

"he's reliable. and funny. and he listens—really listens. like you're the only person in the room."

you could feel sero's eyes on you, and the room felt warmer than it had a second ago.

"he's easy to be around," you said, a little softer now. "i feel like i can breathe near him."

a long silence stretched across the room.

then sero bumped your shoulder with his own, voice low. "you're not supposed to make me blush in front of my mom."

his mom smiled, pleased. "i like you."

you smiled back, because how could you not. "thank you."

"i made tamales," she said, rising to her feet. "sit tight. i'll get you a plate."

"do you need help—?" you started, half-standing.

"no, no. you're a guest. you sit and let yourself be adored."

she vanished into the kitchen with surprising speed.

the moment she was out of earshot, you collapsed sideways onto the couch.

"i blacked out," you whispered. "what did i even say?"

"that i'm amazing and you love being around me," sero said smugly.

you shot him a look.

he leaned a little closer, voice dropping. "also, you were adorable. you didn't have to go that hard. i almost forgot it was fake."

you didn't answer.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

dinner came after a comfortable lull in the afternoon—just enough time for you to grow used to the house's warmth, the quiet hum of kitchen sounds, and the sound of sero humming to himself as he helped his mom plate tamales. there was something undeniably domestic about it—watching him lean over the counter, sleeves pushed up, swiping a bit of masa from the corner of a dish with a grin when he thought no one was watching.

you caught yourself watching.

a little too long.

and when he turned around and caught your eye, offering you a wink that made your stomach stutter—you looked away, pretending to study the wall like it had secrets.

the house filled slowly with more noise, more feet, more voices. by the time dinner was ready, the table was surrounded by people—his siblings, all younger, all chaos incarnate. there were five in total, ranging from what looked like barely ten to maybe sixteen. all of them clearly adored sero, and all of them clearly had a thousand questions about you.

"are you really his girlfriend?" one of the younger girls asked, blinking up at you from her seat at the far end of the table.

sero, already sitting beside you, reached for your hand under the table without hesitation. "of course she is," he said easily. "she puts up with me. that's gotta mean something."

you glanced sideways, surprised by the way his thumb started tracing circles into your palm. his fingers were warm, his grip relaxed, like this was a habit and not a performance. your first instinct was to pull away—but you didn't. you let him hold on.

"do you like him?" one of the boys asked bluntly, somewhere between a dare and a test.

you looked over at sero, who was already looking at you.

and the smile that spread across his face wasn't teasing. it wasn't even smug.

it was soft.

"i do," you said honestly. "he's easy to like."

one of his sisters actually swooned.

their mother returned from the kitchen, a stack of warm plates balanced in her arms. "aye, look at you two," she said fondly, setting down the food. "you look like you've been married five years already."

sero snorted. "that's because she already tells me what to do."

"someone has to," you said, nudging his leg under the table.

his knee pressed into yours and didn't move.

the meal began in full, voices rising over each other, stories flying back and forth like birds across the table. tamales were unwrapped, passed down, devoured. rice and beans steamed in bowls at the center. someone spilled horchata and got teased for it for fifteen minutes straight.

sero kept his hand under the table the entire time.

sometimes on your knee. sometimes brushing your fingers. once, briefly, resting on your thigh with a touch so casual and confident you forgot how to breathe for a second.

"so how did you know?" his mom asked halfway through the meal, raising an eyebrow. "that you liked each other, i mean."

you blinked. "um."

sero didn't miss a beat.

"she made this face at me once," he said, totally serious. "during training. right after i got my ass handed to me. and i thought—yeah. i'd let her ruin my life."

you choked on a sip of water. "that's not what happened."

"you raised your eyebrow," he insisted, "like i was both impressive and pathetic. it was very motivating."

"you were bleeding."

"romance is about timing."

the table erupted in laughter.

"you're ridiculous," you muttered, but there was no bite to it. you felt lightheaded from smiling too much.

his younger sister leaned over the table toward you. "you make him less annoying," she said seriously. "he's, like, way less weird with you here."

"he's still weird," someone else muttered.

"hey," sero said, deeply offended. "i'm the glue of this household."

"you're the glitter glue," one of the boys shot back. "unnecessary and all over everything."

the conversation swirled, but it was warm. easy. you felt like you'd slipped into a rhythm you hadn't known you were missing. sero's family didn't make you feel like an outsider. if anything, they treated you like a permanent fixture—like they already liked you, just because he did.

and sero—he kept looking at you.

in the quiet moments between bites. when you laughed at something his brother said. when you wiped your fingers on your napkin and he passed you your drink like he'd already anticipated you'd reach for it.

"you're really good at this," you whispered during a lull, leaning in.

"at what?" he asked, voice low, chin tilted toward you.

"this," you said. "pretending."

his eyes flicked down to your mouth, just for a second.

"what can i say," he said quietly. "i'm something of an actor."

you snickered.

and then his mom called your name from across the table.

"you like dessert, mija?" she asked, already bringing out the plates.

you blinked twice before answering, forcing a smile. "of course. thank you."

sero didn't look away from you for a long time.

dinner had long ended. the noise had faded. sero's house, once pulsing with overlapping voices and clattering plates, now thrummed with a different kind of energy—low, contented, quiet.

his siblings had scattered, full-bellied and sugar-sticky, off to bedrooms and couches and wherever else they disappeared to in the evening. someone had turned on a dusty old playlist in the den, and the soft hum of vintage boleros curled through the walls like warmth that refused to die.

you stood in the hallway between the dining room and the back door, hovering in the in-between of things: of conversations and thoughts, of what was real and what had only started out that way.

you weren't sure what to do with your hands.

or your heart.

sero appeared beside you like he always did—quiet-footed and comfortably close, smelling faintly of soap and masa and something sweet from dessert you hadn't caught the name of. his sleeves were still pushed up, revealing his forearms, and you hated that you were looking at them. not because they weren't worth looking at—they were—but because it meant your guard was down. again.

"come on," he said softly. "balcony?"

you didn't answer. you just nodded and followed.

the air outside was sharp and clean. the kind of cold that wakes you up without being cruel. you wrapped your arms around yourself more out of instinct than discomfort. the balcony was small, with a windchime shaped like a lizard hanging from the overhang, and a view of soft suburban rooftops and yellow windows scattered like lanterns across the horizon.

you leaned against the wooden railing. he did the same.

neither of you spoke.

you were too full of the evening. of tamales and laughter. of too much touch under the table. of words you'd said with a smile that weren't lies—but weren't supposed to be true either.

the problem wasn't pretending.

the problem was that pretending didn't feel like pretending anymore.

you didn't know when it had changed. maybe it was gradual—each time he laced his fingers through yours without asking, or rested his hand on your thigh mid-story, or offered you a grin across the table that was so familiar, so soft, you forgot why you were here in the first place.

but it hit you now, standing beside him in the chill—this unshakable, irreversible knowledge:

you were in love with him.

god, you were in love with hanta sero.

not just in a surface-level, crush-colored way. not just in the i-like-how-he-makes-me-laugh way. it was deeper than that. older. something that had snuck in when you weren't looking and taken root so quietly you hadn't noticed until it was everywhere.

you were in love with the way he held space. with the way he listened without trying to fix you. with the way he let the world land on him lightly, and still carried it in both hands when it mattered.

you were in love with someone who didn't even know you weren't faking anymore.

you exhaled.

"you're quiet," he said, not looking at you. "regretting it already?"

you shook your head. "no. it's just... weird how easy it was. with your family."

he hummed. "they like you."

"they liked that i made you less annoying."

"that is the highest compliment in my house."

you smiled, faint. "they're sweet. loud, but sweet."

"you kept up fine."

"i think i blacked out for half of it."

"you were golden," he said, softer now. "you always are."

you turned toward him slowly.

the lights from the kitchen spilled faintly through the curtains behind you, catching just enough of his face for you to see how relaxed he looked. how present. how close.

you swallowed.

"hanta?"

he looked over at you, brows raised. "yeah?"

there was a beat of silence.

"i don't know how to lie to you," you said.

he blinked once.

then again, slower.

"what?"

"i mean," you continued, hands curling around the edge of the railing. "i've been trying. all day. and i thought i could. i thought i could pull it off—play the part, pretend—but then we got here, and your mom hugged me, and you touched my hand under the table, and i just... i don't know when it stopped being a bit."

his eyes searched your face like he was looking for something he'd already lost.

"hanta," you said again. "i'm in love with you."

his face froze.

the air between you seemed to still. the windchime didn't move. the whole world narrowed into this one pinpoint moment, bright and fragile and terrifying.

he stepped back—just barely.

"you don't have to keep pretending," he said. carefully. cautiously. "no one's watching anymore. you can drop it."

you stared at him.

"i'm not pretending," you said.

another beat. a sharp exhale.

his lips parted slightly. his brows furrowed, not in confusion, but in disbelief. in the kind of fear that came from wanting something too much and being afraid to reach for it.

"you're serious."

"i've never been more serious about anything in my life."

sero let out a long, shaky laugh. it cracked halfway through.

"say it again," he whispered.

"i'm in love with you."

and this time, you reached for him.

your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, and you felt the moment he melted—slow and overwhelmed, the way something melts that's been cold for too long.

"you've got to be kidding me," he muttered, leaning into your touch. "i thought—god, i thought i was the only one losing my mind over this."

you smiled, eyes stinging.

"you weren't."

"i've been in love with you since second year," he admitted, voice breaking a little. "you kissed my cheek that one time after i carried your books back from the nurse's office, and i nearly died. like, actual cardiac arrest."

"that was a year ago."

"welcome to my long, slow descent into insanity."

you laughed, quiet and ridiculous.

and then he kissed you.

it wasn't rushed. wasn't showy. it wasn't a fireworks-and-credits-roll kiss.

it was the kind that happened in doorways, in hallways, in quiet rooms where hearts beat too loud. the kind that changed nothing and everything all at once.

he kissed you like he meant it.

you kissed him like you'd been waiting your whole life to.

when you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours.

"you're real?" you whispered, breath catching.

"i better be," he said. "otherwise you've just confessed to a figment of your imagination."

you swallowed a grin.

his thumb traced your cheek.

"i thought this would end in disaster," he said quietly. "that pretending would ruin everything."

"and?"

"and now i don't want it to end at all."

you leaned in, bumping your nose against his.

"then it doesn't have to."

he smiled, and kissed you again.

not like he was pretending.

like he was home.

Thee kiddos

HIII I FREAKJNG LOVED THE TAMAKI X PREGNANT READER SMM CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE MORE IT WAS SO CUTEEE MAYBE LIKE AFTER THE PREGNANCY AND TAMAKI JUST BEING OVERPROTECTIVE AND A GREAT HUSBAND

hello anonn! i'm so glad you enjoyed the tamaki x readerrr :DDD i apologize for the LOONG WAITT, i hope this satisfies what you were seeking! :D

❀˖° — suneater's sunshine, track 02

pairings : tamaki amajiki x fem!reader

warnings : none! :)

➤ masterlist!

“Tama, just hold her!” You chuckled softly, watching as your husband trembled while his eyes were fixated to your little daughter now snuggled in your arms. 

Himari was what he muttered out when you held her, his hand shakily touched her cheek, pulling it back rapidly as if she was going to disintegrate. You kept on nudging him to hold her himself, but he just kept refusing, scared that his hands were too sweaty to hold the small baby. Eventually though, he did cave in, nervously opening his palms as you gently handed the small bundle to him. 

A soft sigh of relief escaped his lips as he held her, softly rocking her as he shushed her. A small smile crept up his lips as he giggled softly while his eyes gazed oh so lovingly at her.

“...She’s beautiful,” He mumbled softly, a hand coming up to move the cloth out of the way of her face. All that while his finger brushed upon her soft little cheek, earning a small whine from her. He smiled, the same smile you've seen him with at your wedding day. 

You could only chuckle at the sight, Tamaki kept on softly mumbling praises to the small baby, something along the lines of, ‘I’m so happy you’re here, hm?’ or ‘You did such a great job, I’m so proud of you.’

⋆˚꩜｡

Time never did know rest. It felt like yesterday you were still swaddling Himari, shushing her cries and waking up in the middle of the night because she was hungry. Now, here she was, hair still damp, tied into a small ponytail with small clips adorned her hairline, her elementary uniform still a little bit too big on her. She smiled widely while Tamaki carefully adjusted her collars, on his knees.

“Don’t be afraid to talk, a-and make new friends, okay?” He smiled, tidying up Himari’s bangs.

She nodded, “Yes, dad!” 

“And if anyone is being mean to you, tell the teacher, okay?” 

“Yes, dad!” She nodded again, jumping on her feet. 

Tamaki smiled, kissing her forehead gently as he stood back up.

“Can we go noww?” She pleaded, clutching her bag strap while her other hand tugged at Tamaki's arm.

You chuckled softly, walking over to press a long kiss to both her cheeks, earning a whine from her as well as a small giggle. As you stood up, a gentle tug was calling by your waist, pulling you to your husband’s embrace. He smiled, brushing his knuckle over your cheek before softly doing the same as he did to Himari, then muttering a soft goodbye. “I’ll be off, angel.”

dworkism | do not repost!

hi juno! (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

yk i love ur writing so i need to know how you think sero would treat his gf on valentine’s day!

bloom! (^０^)ノ

thank youuueuueueu sm your writing is amazinggg!!! without further ado, I present to you, sero treating his girlfriend on valentine's day :D

જ⁀➴ ── take my money, and my heart, too!

pairing : hanta s. x fem!reader

scenario : it's valentines day! let me treat you right, pretty ;)

warnings : none!

➤ masterlist!

Hanta would be the type of guy who wouldn't even act like valentine's day was closing in. You were getting hopeless when you had asked him “Guess what’s tomorrooww?” and he just responded with,

“Wednesday…?” along with a confused grin on his face.

Little did you know, that was just his facade of trying to act nonchalant, but then… BAM! It’s 14th of February, you walk into your dorm, now decorated in heart balloons on its ceiling, and ‘careless whisper’ suddenly plays, along with the sight of him laying on his side on the floor, holding back a laugh while his finger still lingered on his phone.

“...Hey, cariño.” He said, his voice trembling with held back laughter while you would laugh, taking pictures of him.

The noon continued with him bringing out two plates of heart shaped pancakes, which—yours were almost perfect, with some of the batter obviously cooked outside of the shape, but it still looked adorable, a total contrast to his stack of pancakes, which were almost burned, and didn’t even look close to hearts. 

“I tried my best.” He sheepishly chuckled, placing your plate to your grasp, he dashed out of the room, before coming back with his laptop, sitting down beside you on the floor while you two ate the pancakes and watched a classic romance movie he picked. He would then repeat all the cheesiest lines of the movie, all while looking at you.

"Your eyes shine like moonlight, cariño."

"Ugh, shut up you're so cheesy." You chuckled, pushing his shoulder lightly.

"And your smile makes my heart go on a chase!" He grinned, dragging his words, putting his hand on his forehead as he pulled you to his embrace, earning a ticklish giggle from you.

You leaned into his chest, “I thought you forgot about valentine’s day.” You smiled, letting your hands rest on his shoulders

“Never,” His kiss lands on the top of your head, “I'd have this over everything, anytime."

dworkism | do not repost!

a/n : euuhh i hope this was okay :"""

➤ masterlist!

short drabble for tomurararara :)

“Happy birthday,” You chuckled, tipping your shot glass, the clear golden liquid swirling softly inside it.

“I bought some new games, Tomu.” A huff of chuckle escaped your lips as your gaze fell to your glass, your hand idly swirling the alcohol in it. "I bet you'll like it."

Then you looked up, a bitter smile gracing your lips.

“You'll never age, huh?” 

Your eyes meet his framed picture, that same sulk on his face, his crimson eyes that always seemed to peer into your own's, that same messy white hair framing his face, eyes sunken deep into his skull. Just how you remembered him.

Just a sliver of him, a memory of what he was. Stuck in time.

Maybe if the world wasn’t so cruel, you’d meet him in another path. Maybe, just maybe, in another life, he’d be smiling at you right now, and you’d clink your glasses together to laugh about your lives.

Maybe in another life, he'll age.

dworkism | do not repost!

a/n: kinda late but........ happy birthday tomura :DD

𓆜⋆˚࿔  — sweet creature

humans were told to be dangerous and evil! Yet you couldn't bring yourself to believe that, not when this one was so kind to you.

pairings : pirate!eijiro k. x mermaid!reader

genre : fluff

warnings : reader uses simplified language (example: "Eijiro want gift?" or "I bring gift!" MIGHT SOUND CRINGE IDK IM SORYYYYYY, pirate slangs used (a lot), reader is EXPLICITLY said to be female.

➤ masterlist!

4,6k word count!

The sea is vast. 

An immense home to mysteries yet to be unfolded. Depths of stories to be told, and songs to be sung. Yet other than that, the sea is brutal. Jaws ready to clench down on whoever shall puff up their chests and voyage upon it. Even more so, beyond all its mysteries and horrors, the great blue held beauties inside it.

One of them, was you. Your kind. Mermaids.

Folk of the water roaming the vast seven seas, keeping the ocean lively and chattering. Most of it was probably you. You could never seem to satisfy the itch in your tail to swim, swim, and swim—exploring every crook and cranny of the coral reefs, poking your head at every cave just to be chased out by a shark or an electric eel. Yet one goal in your mind was to collect; collect those trinkets which sometimes seem to descend from heaven above.

Sometimes a ring, sometimes a bigger ring, large enough to fit through your wrist, other times, it was smaller, weird-shaped, yet not less beautiful. Maybe this was the way gods provide you, yet you’re unsure. Just to be safe–and to admire them, you keep these findings safely in your small den of treasure. A sanctuary you had made for these glimmering and shimmering things to be praised upon. 

Humans are what your kind calls them. 

Those peculiar creatures on the land above, somehow surviving without water filling up their air. You wonder how it feels up there, is it… not water-y? It’s strange! Do they not want to move faster? Why do they have to move that way? 

Clumsy little creatures, you find yourself giggling at their silly movements. So slow, so adorable. Maybe you could teach them to swim. Sometimes you wonder—why do your elders always call them so…

Dangerous.

Your thoughts could never go peacefully—sometimes a fish would run into you to interrupt it, or sometimes a fellow mer-folk needed your help in harvesting the ripe seaweeds. 

This time, a small pebble had hit your head.

Plink!

☄. *. ⋆

“That–blige sucking buccaneer! I can ne’er catch a break!! What’re ya s’posed to do?! Throw away the whole ship?!” The boy grumbled, his eyes narrowed in frustration as his arms flailed forward to throw a small rock he had found.

“Why am I always at the blame?! He’s always speakin’ like he’s an old salt! We’re the same age, damnit!” He threw another rock, letting out a huff as his chin dug to his knees. 

Plunk! Thunk!

At first the red haired didn’t notice it, kept his mouth rambling about the ship’s captain which he found oh-so frustrating, until–

Plunk! 

“Ow—hey!!” His head darted to the back, yet finding no one.

“...What the..?” He muttered, softly now as if embarrassed for being angry at the air.

Then he continued, deciding to ignore the rock thrown to his head just now. His gaze met the water again, pouting as he picked up another rock.

“Can’t believe m’ stuck with em,”

He throws another one,

“if only a half decent job was here, I’d drag my ass out of this—!”

Then another one,

Plunk!

“Hey!!” Shooting up to his feet, he pointed to the ocean in anger. “Stop doin’ that, will ya?!”

But then a tail flicked up again, throwing back a pebble, this time hitting his chest. And now he was frozen in horror.

Eijiro was nothing but experienced. Three years of voyaging the sea, he’s seen almost all—fishes, birds, bird-fishes, but not this. 

The tail was different, a large fish would be one thing but this? It was no fish. Not with those pair of curious eyes eyeing him from below the surface, grinning like he was the funniest thing in the world.

Without a second to hesitate, his first choice was to shout–yell, ducking down and scurrying his fingers as he found another larger rock, throwing it to the creature in fear, hoping that it’ll go away.

“Demon! Blasted—sea witch!!” He flailed his arm, his knees grew weak as he crawled back, a hand dragging him away from the dock while his other hand kept desperately throwing rocks, even grabbing handfuls of sand to the ocean.

“Get away!! Away, I say!!”

☄. *. ⋆

Is this why they say they’re dangerous?

You giggled softly, raising yourself up the dock while your hands propped up as you peeked your head up, smiling to the human. Your claws gripped tight to the wood as you waved a hand to him, at least that’s how you see them greet each other.

Goodness, he was so loud! It’s so amusing to see him shout around like that—was he trying to say hello? Perhaps you should shout back? 

You opened your mouth, grinning as you shouted back, mimicking his sound. 

Yet the color from his face just seemed to drain completely.

He spoke again, his hands came together as he knelt down to the ground. He’s funny, you like him. Why was he frowning? As much as you know—when your sister was frowning it meant she was sad, distressed. Did you do that to him? Goodness, that’s not right…

So you dug back down, splashing into the water while your eyes already trained to the direction you knew too well, to your den—the shrine of where you kept all your treasures. Maybe if he sees something so shiny and beautiful, he shall smile again! Yes, yes, you shall pick for him a gift!

Your fingers scattered on each tip of your glistening objects, then your eyes found the perfect one—a small, yet long, and shining, sharp ends, it reminded you of his teeth. Peculiar human, his teeth looked like a shark’s! 

With a wide smile, you pridefully swam back with the treasure in your hands, surely he would love this, and cherish it! Your tail swished rapidly, until you found the same dock again, towering over the surface as you peaked your head out the water again, finding him curiously calling upon the water.

You reached out a hand, softly tapping on his shoulder.

☄. *. ⋆

“Gah–!!”

Eijiro threw himself back as the small yet sharp tap landed on his shoulder, his eyes darting from the creature’s face to her hand, still outstretched to him. Then it—she..?—smiled, grinning ear to ear as she lifted up a small fork, pointing to it while her eyes flickered from him to the fork.

“D-don’t eat me!! Please!!” He yelped, covering his face with his hands.

Then he heard a huff, some of that frustrated, disappointed huff as the creature placed down the fork, pointing to it with a small pout on her face, mumbling wordless noises as she pushed it to him, as if urging him to take it. 

His hands slowly lowered, gaze turning to that of curiosity. “...For…me..?” He pointed to himself, face twisted into confusion.

Then she whined, throwing her arms up as she nodded, her finger pointing to him.

“...A fork…?” He chuckled, amusement filling up his voice. “You gave me…a fork?”

Then she nodded, still furrowing her brows in determination. “Fork, fork!!” Her finger still jabbing to the metallic object on the wood. “Fork!”

His lips finally curved up to a smile, chuckling again as he picked up the fork, “For me?” He asked, pointing to himself.

“Mm! Me!” She insisted, pointing to him as she nodded fervently, her eyes beamed with hope. “Me, me!!”

Eijiro chuckled, “No, not like that,” softly shaking his head as he slowly took her hand, though hesitating. He guided her finger to his chest, “Me,” then to herself, “You.”

“...Woo..?” 

“No, silly, you,” He grinned, pointing to his mouth. “I’m Eijiro, you are…?”

“...Ah..?” She tilted her head, brows stitched back together in confusion. “E..row…?”

“Ei-ji-rou,” 

Her fingers flew to her lips, touching them as if trying to mimic his movement. “Ee..jirou..?”

“Yes!! Yer gettin’ it!” He beamed up, nodding as he laughed in pride. “What’s your name?”

“...Yoo.. Eejirou,”

“Me…?” 

“No, dummy,” Eijiro snickered, guiding her hand back to his chest. “Me, Eijiro. And you are…”

“Oh!”

She placed a finger on his chest “Eijiro,” then to herself, “Y/n!” Her grin was wider now, throwing her arms up in celebration as she twirled in the water, tail swishing up and down as she cheered.

“Eijiro! Y/n!!”

He chuckled softly, shifting himself to prop his arm up on his knee—his previous complainings forgotten so suddenly. Eijiro’s face bloomed a smile as he admired the silverware given by the strange creature, the surface reflecting back the orange hue of sunset. “Aye, Eijiro and y/n.” He hummed softly, drifting his gaze to the rejoicing new friend he had made.

☄. *. ⋆

The next evening there it was again, a fork. Bigger this time, seemed newer too. As the dock creaked softly under his steps, Eijiro chuckled while he bent down to pick up the fork, only to be met with a small splash to his face and the sound of a sweet giggle.

“Eijiro!” You called out, smiling at his shocked face twisting into a playful grin. “Fork! You!” You chimed up, a pride look sitting in your eyes as you swam closer. 

“Aye,” He snickered, lowering himself down to sit on the edge of the dock, letting his feet hang down to the water. “It’s big this time,” Lifting up the fork to the setting sun, he turned it slightly, admiring it. “Big, lassie. Big” He repeated, grinning to you.

“Big?” Tilting your head, you furrowed your brows. “Big.. fork?” 

“Yes,” He chuckled as he nodded. “Big fork, indeed.”

☄. *. ⋆

Waves brought many gifts upon the world, sometimes it was a small clump of corals, or sometimes bringing back what may have been lost. And so did you—you brought many gifts to Eijiro, a strange human whom you’ve made to smile. Nights you’ve spent with him by that same dock as he rambled on and you would nod as if you understood his words, yet you slowly did. You knew he was a pirate, whatever that was. He says he sails the seas, and that he likes to eat fish. You learned the word friend. That’s what he called you and other humans he knew.

One night, you returned again to the dock. Your heart thrummed with excitement with this gift. It’s the most-amazing-great-good one yet! A pearl cradled softly between your fingers as you clutched your hand tightly to your chest, pushing your tail a strong current to push you forward to that dock, where you could already see his feet hanging down to the water.

“Eijiro!” You piped up, beaming up from the water. “Gift, again! For you!!” Lifting the pearl up in the air, you swung it to his face as you shook it in front of him, which he chuckled softly in response. “What is that?” He asked, opening his palm for you.

“Uh…Ball!” You nodded, placing the delicate pearl to his grasp. “Shining ball!” 

He froze as he eyed the small imperfect sphere, the moonlight danced upon the surface like rainbows. He breathed out a small huff of admiration, “...What..?” 

“Oh no… Eijiro… don’t like..?”

“What?” He shot up, waving his hand around. “No, no! I like it, I love this, y/n”

“It’s a true beauty, lass. Thanks,” He smiled.

“Welcome,” You replied, propping yourself up the dock as you looked up at him. 

“Where’d ya learn that one?”

With a proud smile, you pointed to him again. “Eijiro!”

☄. *. ⋆

“Hail up the sails, Eijiro!!” Katsuki’s voice commanded gruffly, his hand busy with sharpening a small dagger to a stone.

“Aye!” He answered, rope already tight to his hands, the familiar dull pain of the small shreds of the material digging into his skin as he pulled the rope with a grunt. For a brief second as he pulled the rope, his eyes caught a glimpse of the dock, empty and no one there unlike the previous night. His gaze fell to the small pocket in his pants, tucked away inside was the small pearl he had received. His grip loosens.

“Eijiro!! Don’t ya try to run a rig!!” Katsuki scolded. 

“Aye, captain, apologies.” He mumbled, tightening his grip again.

☄. *. ⋆

The winds of the sea had never felt so familiar. As much as he said he hated being a pirate, he loved the sea. The seagulls whined by the air as the ship swerved through, the air slicing through the cracks of his fingers, thrumming by his ear as it blew by. The crew sang songs while they jumped around the deck, and he could only chuckle as he leaned against the wooden railings.

“Splice the mainbrace!” Denki chimed through, lifting up a glass of rum, its contents spilling over slightly as he did. “Eijiro, come join us!!”

“Now,” He smiled, “Careful, Den—don’t wanna be three sheets to the wind,” 

Splish! Splash!

At first he didn’t notice it—the splashing noise beneath the ship’s smooth swerves. 

Splish! Splash!

With the same smile he looked at Denki with, he flew his gaze to the water.

What in the…

Is that—... her tail…?

“Eijiro!!” Your sweet voice chimed.

His eyes widened, gripping the railings as he leaned down, trying to whisper-scream to you as best as he could, a finger over his lips. “Lass, ya can’t be out ‘ere!” He hissed, eyes darting back and forth from the crew to you. “Go away! Yer shark bait here!!” His hand waved away, pleading you to go and swim back.

“No, no!! I give you, a gift!” You smiled proudly, lifting up a small clam’s shell in your hand.

“I—that’s nice, y/n, but ya can’t be out here! Go!! Please!”

Then suddenly, Denki’s voice chimed behind him. “Woo!!” He laughed, slinging a drunken arm around the panicking boy. 

“Eijiro found treasure!! Sea maiden, hoo!”

The crew scurried to the railings, whooping as they spotted your confused form still lifting up the clam shell. Eijiro’s eyes silently pleaded for you to go away while you had the chance, yet it was too late—not when Katsuki’s heavy steps came behind him.

Katsuki’s laugh rang through the air as he whooped, “Bring her up!! She’s worth gold, she is!!” He guffawed, shaking Eijiro with pride. “Bird’s eye, you’ve got, Eijiro!!”

“Wait—no, she’s not–!!”

“Hanta! Net!! The heavy one, that be!!” He commanded, pointing to the boy smiling widely near the ship’s stairs.

“Aye, captain!!” Hanta answered eagerly, saluting as he ran off to the ship’s hold.

“y/n, go!! Now, lass!! Please!!”

You froze, your smile stiffening as you saw the concern etched on his face. Your hand slowly lowered your gift, and before you could speak up again, the cheer of the crew and the shadow of a net descended upon you.

SNATCH! 

What abomination was this? Every angle you looked at, there was no escape! 

Your hands desperately clawed, chewed on the ropes, yet they were as good as steel. 

Your tail hurts. Oh they hurt so badly, the metal scraps on the ropes sliced through your scales like small knives, to your shoulder, your back, everywhere. 

A cry out of pain rang through the air, cheered on by the crew as they slowly lifted up your helpless form, heaving from your helpless attempts.

“Stop! Please!!” Eijiro’s voice shot through the cheer, yet unheard of. Hands slowly descended you onto the deck, sneering smiles lowering down upon you, and your eyes found him in betrayal.

“...Eijiro..?” You whimpered.

And yet he stayed still.

He… stayed… still! 

Oh the irony. You’ve brought him many gifts, told him many tales, and shall this be how a friend treats the other? Your frown deepens as the crew slowly untangles you off the net. 

“Get her into a barrel! I want her alive when we sell her off!! We’re feastin’ tomorrow, lads!!” Katsuki cheered, hugging Eijiro by his shoulder while the boy stayed silent. “You lucky bastard!!” He guffawed, slapping him by his side. “Capture us more of these fortunes, huh?” 

Eijiro’s shoulder grew rigid. His jaw clenched as he watched the crew descend you into the ship’s hold.

☄. *. ⋆

That night the stars heard of the crew’s cheer and songs. Harmonica echoed through the air as drunken rejoicing rang to the skies. And yet, between Denki’s drunken dance upon the deck, Mina’s loud and ringing laugh, and Jirou’s cheerful harmonica plowing with songs, Eijiro sat by, throwing a small laugh at every joke, yet his eyes seemed distant from them all.

“What’re we doin’ tonight, lads?!” Hanta roared a smile, lifting up a chug of rum to the air as his foot landed on a barrel’s top.

“Feast!! We’re rich tonight!!” Mina cheered.

He’s had enough.

With a slap of his knees, Eijiro shot up to his feet, slyly making his way to the ship’s hold, where the sound of water from the ocean felt near, and the sound of your cries reached his ears.

Down by a corner there you sat, bare backed turned to him, your shoulders jolting at every sob and breath you let by. You had the clam in your clasp, thumb running over it gently as if mourning what’s lost. 

You were mourning, a friendship lost.

Perhaps this is why your elders say they were dangerous after all.

“y/n,” He croaked, the wood boards beneath his feet creaking as he stepped closer. “I—I didn’t mean for this to happen, lass. Truth, I tell ya,” His voice was quiet, careful. 

You stayed silent, breathing silently as you ran your thumb across the small dent of the clam shell again.

“I’m sorry, y/n… I—I told them not to—”

“You don’t help, Eijiro.” 

“...You stay, you let them.”

Eijiro’s mouth parted to speak, yet no words came by or even flashed through his mind.

“You’re not a friend, Eijiro.” You, with all your imperfect words, spat venom. “You’re enemy, danger.”

Then you finally turned to him, your eyes dry from your tears, face bruised and messed up from the haste of the crew. They held nothing that he wanted, not that glistening excitement, not that wide cheer he’s witnessed every time you learned a new word, not that shine of hope he always found in your eyes—nothing. 

Betrayal shot through your eyes like wind through his hair this morning. 

“I—I’ll fix this, y/n, please I–”

“No,” You muttered.

“Go away,”

“Enemy.” Your voice was hoarse, a reward from crying day to night, while your hand gripped tighter on the clam, before you slid it across the wood to his way.

“Gift, now go.”

☄. *. ⋆

The night had fallen quiet, snores now caressed the cold air as the drunken crew lay asleep by the deck. Rum spilled all over the ship, yet no one cared to mop. Eijiro’s eyes lay awake as he stared to the sky, heart drumming against his chest while his eyes kept flickering to the stairs that descended to the ship’s lower level. 

He’s sick of it. Sick of the feeling clawing at his chest like a beast. So he sat up, stumbling over crew members as he slowly made his way down, where you still sat there, the clam still sitting right where you had slid it across. 

“...I’m sorry,” He whispered, kneeling down as he gently picked up the shell. 

“I was not a good friend, lass.” 

“Bad.” You muttered back.

“Yes, bad friend.” He smiled, a hand slowly reaching out to turn your chin to face him. “C’mere, lemme see what those scallywags did to ya,” 

His fingers were warm across your beaten up skin, your eyes lingered to the ground before you reluctantly looked at him, a pout still present on your face. 

He winced, “Those dogs,”

“They did ya rough, hm?” His thumb brushed gently across a bruise, earning a small whimper from you. “Sorry,” He muttered back.

A small pause fell upon the two of you while you stared at his dimly lit face, and he stared at yours.

Then his fist clenched, his brows furrowed as he pressed his lips to a thin line.

“I’m carryin’ you out, lass.” 

Arose, he did. “I’m carryin’ you out.” He nodded, convincing himself as he lowered himself to you, a hand slipping beneath your tail while the other hoisted behind your shoulders. His touch was careful, cautious and fearful as if you were as fragile as a flower. 

Slowly, the ship creaked as he stepped through, your tail dripping water as he tiptoed his way between his sleeping mates. Eijiro’s jaw was clenched at every small noise he had made. Afraid that he’d woken up his crew, or worse—his captain.

Just a little more, a little further to the edge, then he sat you down by the railing.

“Go, lass.” He whispered, hands gently keeping you in place by your shoulders.

“I’ll meet ya again by the docks, savvy?” His voice was soft, gentle, assuring.

“But—”

“I’ll meet ya again, y/n I—”

With a yank, a hand pulled Eijiro’s collar from behind. “Now, lass.” He smiled, pushing you off the railings before you could even reply.

“No!!! You— you dog!!!” Katsuki roared, letting go of his collar as he stared into the water, at the tail now swishing further away from the ship. “You traitor!! We needed that money, Eijiro!!” 

With a frustrated grunt, Katsuki pushed himself off the railing, his breath heavy as he pointed a finger to Eijiro, “You— damn it!!!” Harshly, he yanked Eijiro by the collar again, forehead to forehead.

“Why the hell did you do that, huh!?” Katsuki seethed through his teeth, hot breath fanning to Eijiro’s neck, grabbing the collar tighter. With a snarl, he shook the boy. “Why?!”

“Ya did all that for what, lad? Huh?!”

“Just to please her pretty face and sweet words?! I swear—I’ll sink you down to the sharks, Eijiro.” 

Finally, he let up. Letting Eijiro down on his feet again as he let go of his collar. A spit landed on Eijiro’s shoe, followed by Katsuki’s gruff muttering, “I’ll flog you off in the mornin’, just you wait.”

A small silence fell before Eijiro spoke up, his tone dark yet brave. 

“I’ll flog you off harder.”

Katsuki paused in his steps. Then turned on his heel, a finger sharply pointing to him. “Don’t test me, Eijiro.”

“Oh, shiver me timbers!! Ya’ve done worse, Katsuki!!” Eijiro shouted, throwing his hands up in anger. 

“Eijirou,” He threatened, stepping closer. 

Then the red one stepped closer too, a scowl as deep as the ocean. 

Chest to chest. It used to be a form of celebration between the two, yet now, with scowls carved into the curves and crooks of their faces, it was war. 

Eijiro pressed closer. “I’ll test ya, Kats.”

“I’d rather be fish food than be a coward.” Sneer Eijiro, his mouth twitched up to a small smirk as he pushed Katsuki hard.

The blond huffed, wiping his thumb beneath his nose as he turned away. 

"I’ll punch yer face off. Pray that yer spine’s as strong as yer mouth.”

☄. *. ⋆

The sea hugged your skin again, caressing the small scars on your tail, your shoulders, your face—it kissed you like it always did.

Down beneath all the gurgles of the ocean, his voice echoed in your head—something you kind of understood.

“I’ll meet ya again by the docks, savvy?”

Your hands clasped around the clam again, its shell now warm from how much you’ve gripped it. Brows furrowing from confusion as you rose your head to the surface again, one last look of him, another voice was there.

It sounded like when you first met him—shouting. 

So you swam back, back to where you used to always see him, back to where you learned those words, back to where it all began; the docks.

☄. *. ⋆

The sun kissed his face like a bastard. The cuts on his cheek and his lips felt raw under the heat. His fists felt raw, hot from all the punches he’s thrown. The pain on his stomach didn’t go dull as well, it still pinched him by the side sharply. 

Katsuki didn’t look any better, nose bleeding with thick blood down to his lip, an eye half shut, swollen like a plum. 

Eijiro scoffed with pride, his breath heavy as he shook his hands, not turning his face away from the gaze of the crew. 

“If yer still gonna be yappin’ off my ear, I’ll flog you off again, red.” Katsuki spat, wiping his nose as he straightened up his back. 

He stood tall, flexing his shoulders off as he cracked his knuckles. “Still didn’t regret nothin’.” A smirk played on Eijiro’s lips as he said that, his teeth seeped red from his gums. 

“Idiot, that’s what ye are! Throwin’ off gold like it didn’t cost nothin’!!” Katsuki growled, jabbing his finger to Eijiro’s chest. 

“Gold don’t talk and cry, Kats!!” He roared back, shoving Katsuki’s chest harshly to the ground. “Ya can’t just kill off a soul like that!! We’re pirates, we ain’t killers!!”

“We’re pirates,” Katsuki echoed his words, quieter now. “We ain’t saints either, Eijiro.”

“Damn right we’re not,” Eijiro growled, stepping forward, he towered over him. “But there’s a line, Kats. There’s always been a line.”

The blond huffed, throwing his face away from Eijiro’s glare while his own eyes filled with something other than anger, something remorseful. He stood up, pushing past Eijiro, his steps heavy as he trudged through the wooden planks. “Whatever, set course for home.” 

The crew stayed silent, everyone still held their breaths from their captain and crew fist to fist since morning. 

“Oi!! Hear me or not?!” He growled past his shoulder.

“A-..Aye, capt!!”

☄. *. ⋆

It had been two long days where you clutched the clam shell close to your heart, and not swam far from the docks. You waited for the same set of feet to dangle by in the water, or the same spiky-haired shadow to loom over you as you swam to the surface, yet he did not show. 

“Frieeendd,” You drawled, groaning softly to the night air as you leaned your head to the dock’s soft wooden edges.

With a huff, you pushed yourself back into the water, splashing your tail softly to turn away from the water.

“Lass,” His hoarse voice called, tugging between a smile and a cough. While the sounds of his shoes dragged across the sand by his feet. 

“E-..Eijiro? Eijiro!!” You beamed, smiling widely as you flapped your tail onto the water.

You waved your hand to him, drumming the dock as you giggled. 

“Aye, the one n’ only,” He chuckled, broken and bruised. His legs stumbled as he slowly lowered himself down, groaning as his hand clutched to his stomach.

“You stayed, y/n.” He softly smiled. 

Nodding, you smiled at him as your hand lifted the clam shell up. “Eijiro say.. come back,” 

“So I wait,” 

“I wait for.. friend.”

His grin grew, a breath of laugh passed through his lips as he gazed at you with tenderness. “We’re still friends?”

“Mhm!” You nodded. 

“You, keep this,” You insisted, taking his hand to place the clam shell in it. 

His smile passed to his eyes, “Thank you, lassie.”

“I love it,” He softly hummed, thumb brushing across the shell gently like it’s a treasure.

“Eijiro like? I have… uh… more! Yes, I have more!” You turned yourself to dip into the water, only for his hand to softly grip your wrist.

“No, no,”

“Stay, let’s uh… let’s just.. talk, hm?”

Your soft giggle rang through the air as you nodded, leaning your head down to the dock again as you looked up at him. A hand reached out to his bruised face. “You… uh…”

“What is… uh… oh, hurt! Yes, you… you’re hurt,”

He chuckled, ever the slightest, his face inched closer to your hand. “Aye, I did. Just a scrap.”

“Scrap?”

“Mhm, just… small hurt,” He smiled, simplifying his words.

“Careful,” You mumbled, your finger still slowly tracing his bruise.

With a nod, he responded. “I will, lass. I was fightin’ for ya, y’know?”

“For my friend.”

dworkism | do not repost!

RAAAHHH it was such a fun time writing this HAHAHAH mostly cause I like writing about pirates :P DO GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS ON THIS ONE, I'LL APPRECIATE THEM!! <3

taglist : @bloomstream be a part of the taglist!

➤ masterlist!

can you pretty please write something based on the song Would You Fall in Love With Me Again from Epic? I was thinking like, barbarian bakugo but he went to war or somethin’ and finally gets home to his wife?

the village gates loomed in the distance, barely visible through the morning mist. the scent of rain and blood clung to the air, but for the first time in years, katsuki bakugo paid it no mind. his fingers twitched at his side, the leather of his armor worn from war. his sword, heavy as the burdens he carried, hung loosely at his hip.

he had returned. but would she still want him?

his steps slowed as he neared the familiar path leading to their home. it was still there—unchanged, untouched as if time had waited for him. the wooden beams, the carved symbols of protection along the frame, the worn stone path leading to the door. a home he had built with his own hands.

a home he feared he no longer belonged in.

the door creaked open before he could knock.

“katsuki?”

there she stood. his wife. his love. the woman he had fought for across a thousand battlefields.

you.

you looked just as he had remembered and yet… not. there was something in your eyes, something weary, something knowing.

"is it really you?" your voice trembled, your hands gripping the doorframe as if to steady yourself. "or am i dreaming again?"

his throat went dry. he wanted to say something—anything—but all he could do was stare.

he had imagined this moment a hundred times, had whispered your name into the cold night air of distant lands, had prayed to gods he no longer believed in just to see you again.

but now that you were here, he didn’t know if he had the right to reach for you.

"you look... different," you whispered. "your eyes… they look tired."

his lip curled, not in anger, but in some bitter, broken thing that resembled a smile. "that ain't the only thing that's different."

you took a step closer, hesitant, searching. your gaze trailed the hollows of his cheeks, the sharpness of his jaw. your fingers twitched as if aching to touch him, but you held back. 

a sharp breath left him. he knew what you saw. he wasn't the man you had once known. he was something else now. something ruined.

"i'm not the man you fell in love with," he admitted, voice rough like gravel. "not the man you married."

you flinched, but you didn’t look away.

"i'm not your husband anymore," he continued, his voice quiet, pained. "my love... would you fall in love with me again, if you knew all i've done?"

your breath hitched. "what... have you done?"

katsuki shut his eyes. when he opened them, they were dark with memories he wished he could forget.

"left blood on every fuckin' battlefield," he sighed. "traded soldiers like weapons. hurt more lives than i can count." his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. "but every goddamn thing i did… was to come back to you."

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "so tell me. would you still love me?"

your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. you studied him again, truly seeing him, the man he was now—the weight he carried, the sins etched into his skin.

then you turned, walking deeper into their home. katsuki's chest ached as you disappeared from view. maybe this was it. maybe you couldn’t—

"could you do me a favor?" your voice drifted from within.

"what is it, my love?" his brow furrowed as he followed, stepping inside for the first time in years. the air smelled of you. of home. 

you were quiet for a long time, the wind whispering between you. then, at last, you stepped forward, eyes steady. 

you turned your gaze to the large wedding bed in their home, carved from the sturdy olive tree that had stood as a silent witness to your love since the beginning.

“that bed,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “could you lift it? carry it far away from here?”

his blood ran cold.

“how could you say that?” his voice cracked, the anger, the exhaustion, the heartbreak all colliding into one. “i built that bed with my own fuckin' hands. carved it from the tree where we first met. the only way to move it is to—”

his breath caught. he looked at you, realization striking him like lightning. his chest ached. his arms, worn from war, longed for your warmth.

“…you knew."

you stepped closer, cradling his face in your hands. his hands came, gripping your waist as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

a small, trembling smile touched your lips. "only my husband would know that. so i guess that makes you... him."

his knees nearly buckled. he surged forward, hands cupping your face, his forehead pressing against yours.

tears slipped down your cheeks, but you smiled, truly smiled, as your hands finally touched him—fingers ghosting over scars and bruises and the remnants of war.

"i will fall in love with you over and over again, katsuki," you whispered. "i don't care how, where, or when. no matter how long it's been. you are mine.”

he crushed you to him, burying his face into your hair, his body shaking. katsuki swallowed hard, his vision blurring. “i told you… i’m not the same.”

"you're always my husband, katsuki," you murmured. "i've been waiting for you. i would have waited forever."

katsuki's arms tightened around you, grounding himself in your warmth, your love, your unwavering belief in him.

"you don't have to anymore," he whispered. "i'm home." 

katsuki held you tightly, his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go. the weight of years, of battles, of bloodshed, all crumbled beneath the warmth of your touch.

you swallowed hard. “how long has it been?”

katsuki exhaled, his forehead resting against yours. his voice was barely above a whisper.

“twenty years.”

a breath hitched in your throat. twenty years. twenty years of waiting, of uncertainty, of praying that the man you loved would return to you. “god, katsuki…”

“i thought i’d never make it back to you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “i thought—” he stopped himself, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours. “i don’t deserve this.”

"don’t say that," tears spilled down your cheeks as you cupped his face, your fingers trembling. “i love you.”

his breath shuddered. he had been through war. he had seen death, had taken lives, and had lived in the darkness for what felt like an eternity. and yet, nothing had ever struck him down the way those three words did.

a harsh, broken laugh escaped him, and he pressed his lips against your forehead.

“i love you more. always have. always will.”

you sobbed, burying yourself in his chest as he held you tighter, his body shaking from exhaustion, from relief, from love.

and for the first time in years, katsuki bakugo finally let himself fall. back into the home he had fought so hard to return to. back into you, his wife.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

ehehehehehehhehehehe he's so silly

˚.🎀༘⋆ radio romance h. shinso

i've been thinking about shinso working at a radio store and visiting him at work a lot lately so i wrote a lil drabble about it

the purple-haired boy perked up at the dinging of the door, announcing a customer's arrival. as he looked up, a grin graced his face upon his eyes landing on the love of his life.

he chuckled to himself as you began to browse through the records, pretending like you weren't there to greet your boyfriend.

"can i help you?" he asked, walking up to you and leaning against a nearby crate containing music.

"looking for something to impress a cute boy," you replied with a soft grin, still pretending not to know him.

"oh, yeah? what's he like?" he inquired, playing into your game.

"y'know, purple hair, quiet, kinda grunge vibes, works at a radio store, that kinda stuff," you describe your boyfriend, continuing to browse through the records.

"hm. he sounds familiar," shinso comments, trying to see how far you'd go with this bit.

"yeah? maybe you know him. maybe he works with you," you playfully suggest, finally going to look at him.

"yeah, maybe," he laughs softly before gently pressing his lips to yours.

taglist - @justmylvr @lwcedribbons @im0nsaturn @tapwatermelon @n3r0-5352 @dvartefox @failurewater @f0reverfaded @hyssoplampflickers

ⓒ luvseraphh

༄.° — when you’re sober.

pairings : hanta s. x gn!reader

warnings : use of drugs, swearing, no gender mentioned but reader is called pretty

➤ masterlist!

You can’t really remember what started your friendship with Hanta. It was a haze, an echo of memories, blurring together. But all you know is that nowadays, you’d lie around his apartment doing whatever. Sometimes it was playing stupid games on his console, reading his comics, or cooking together, or gossiping, anything. And you fell comfortable with it all, the small routine you would do together. You even bought a new toothbrush just to leave at his place in case your work caught you too late into the night, and the road just felt too scary to drive through alone. 

“It’s alright sweets, m’ always happy for a company.” He said that time, the first time you called him nervously to ask if it was okay to crash by his place. The sultry, smooth tone of his voice had always seeped through, lazy and giggly. Classically Hanta—always sounding high even when he wasn’t.

It was another one of those nights, you had only gotten off work at around midnight, and the thought of driving all the way back to your own place felt like such a drag. Hanta’s apartment was just a few blocks away. The day felt like hell anyway, you needed some form of entertainment. Your finger went autopilot as you scrolled through your contacts, immediately knowing where to stop at tap at his number. 

Beeeep… beeeep… Then a click. A small shuffling sound was heard before Hanta’s grinning voice was heard.

“Yeess, you can crash at my plaacee,” He answered immediately, knowing what your question was going to be. He chuckled before you heard him inhale, a small crackle of fire heard by the side.

You laughed, already packing your things into your bag, zipping up your laptop in its small sleeve. "Thanks, Han."

Exhale.. “Can you grab somethin’ for me though?”

“Mhm? From the grocery store?”

“Uhuh, just some milk, if ya don’t mind.” 

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The small apartment studio now ghosted with smokes from the small roll of paper on Hanta’s hand, flowing the grey-ish fog like river through a forest, while you busied yourself with a cup of coffee by his counter, the small metal spoon clinking to the sides of the glass as you stirred in your sugar, your mouth grumbling about your hell of a day.

“And then he yelled at me! In front of everyone!!” You exclaimed, disbelief in your voice as you looked over to him. 

“Dickhead,” He giggled, taking another drag before blowing a thick smoke to the air. “Shoulda slapped him right then and there.” 

You plopped down next to him on the couch, placing your coffee down before you huffed as you crossed your arms to your chest, throwing yourself back to the plush backrest of his couch. 

You groaned, shoulders tense. “I did everything he asked for, and he just— ugh!!” You threw your hands up, running them up your face as if that could clear your head.

Hanta’s chuckle sounded low. “Here,” His voice softly offered, nudging his hand gently to your cheek to offer you his half-smoked joint. His weed-filled smile now turned to something soft, sympathetic, almost sorry for your state.

“M’ not in the mood, Han.” You rejected, almost sounding like a low whine as you gently pushed his hand away as you leaned to his shoulder. 

“Aw,” He huffed, that stupid smile not leaving his face as he pulled the joint away.

The day’s haste caught up to you, the frustration, exhaustion, stress, yanked you by the hair, prickling tears to your eyes. And you could only grunted in anger to stop it from flowing down your cheeks. 

You choked in a sob, groaning in frustration. “Fuck, why am I—crying?”

Before you could protest, his thin hands wrapped by the other side of your shoulder, softly pulling you into his embrace as he tutted gently. “It’s okay to cry, hm?” He lazily assured, a small grin gracing his lips as his hand traced small circles on the small of your back. “Your boss's a shitload, y/n.” Hanta’s words slurred, a small hum slipping in between his words as he struggled to form coherent thoughts. “You're too pretty to be sad about him,”

Then he paused, the air only filled with your soft sniffles and his small breaths. His mind a haze, and what he thought he said in his mind suddenly slipped out of his mouth. 

“Too pretty, too good, too… everything…” 

You looked up, hands softly wiping your slight tears as you searched for his eyes between his guilty grin and weed and smoke reeked breath. 

“You’re everything, darling..” He giggled, softly brushing the back of his finger to your cheek. 

A smile graced your lips, and you slowly pulled away from his embrace, studying his face from afar. 

Silence fell upon you two, just the small sounds of cars honking outside and the fan from his bathroom whirring. Then you scoffed in amusement, “You’re so high right now” Words you said, with a chuckle.

His smile slowly faded as the words echoed in his mind, blurring to the sensation in his head. He quickly shook his head, “No, m’ not…” While smoke slightly puffed out of his mouth. His hands quickly placed the small rolled up paper, still oozing out smoke from its end. “Bein’ high’s one thing, but m’ being honest, sweets” He slurred, begging softly as he reached his hand to yours.

His hand graced yours, as you looked up to his eyes again, staring back at you were his dark, half lidded, slightly bloodshot eyes. And you couldn’t bring yourself to believe. It’s already three years since you've known him, and he’s shown you too well that he had a silver tongue. 

“Yeah?” You asked. “The same words you said to–maybe… five? Other people, hm?” Leaning your head slightly to the side. 

Hanta’s brows furrowed—confused. His elbows moved to struggle and support him from the couch. 

He stammered a few vowels before slowly rubbing his hazy eyes to look at you again. “No, no…” He waved his hand lazily, letting it drop to his lap. The other supported his seemingly heavy head, swaying slightly from side to side. “Just to you, sweets… m’ being honest here…” He continued, rasp and croak in his tone as he tried to reach for your hand again. 

You sighed, reaching for the-now-cold-cup of coffee. A small sip brought coarse and sweetness to your tongue. “Really?” You glanced at him, his form still slowly reaching for your hand as he nodded, tugging on your arm again to pull you into his embrace.

“Of course really,” His smile returned slightly, leaning his chin to your shoulder. His hand slowly snaked beneath your arm. “Always did.” He said those two words with hesitance, volume smaller than usually. He slowly buried his face to the small curve between your neck and shoulder, his breath fanned through the thin material of your shirt. And you scoffed. 

“You’re just high.”

He chuckled lazily. “Maybe,” 

“But it’s still honest, y/n.” That sounded ridiculous to you, somehow.

He fell silent again, and the small whir of the wind dancing through the open window filled the room again. His breath continued to gently greet your skin, and your finger absent-mindedly rubbed the body of your coffee cup. 

You cleared your throat, “...You’ll forget this tomorrow.” You softly mumbled, standing up to collect your bag. 

Hanta's grin stayed there for a moment longer before he realized what you were doing. Then his mind scattered, he reached out to you, stumbling over his own feet as he stood up. “N-no, no,”

His hand reached to you slowly, eyes hazy and drifting from side to side.

“Y/n, wait..” his voice came out weaker than how he wanted it to be, his vision is mixing everything up and God if he can get the weed out of his system right now, he’ll do it. 

“M’ being honest, sweets, truth,” He reached out, supporting himself to the wall as he tried to register his surroundings. Your form fell clear upon his eyes, and he could only attempt to reach for your wrist. “L-listen…”

You wrapped up the last of your things into your bag with a ziip! Before looking back at him, messy and high, half lidded and bloodshot. You grimaced. Never had his high-thoughts made you this… sad? Hesitant? Hopeful? 

“I’ll listen when you’re sober, Han” You muttered, walking to the door.

“But I’m bein’ honest, y/n, please…” 

“I just… I can’t say it… when I’m sober please… listen,”

clack.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

You’re met with the same familiar—almost sickening sight of your computer in front of you. Your cubicle is a cluttered mess of papers and sticky notes, it’s almost lunch, and not once have you seen a text notification other than from your boss. Not that you were expecting a text from anyone… right?

And the day went on just like that, just like any other day. You find yourself having to do overtime again. As you finished the last sentences of the document, you glanced at your phone, it was midnight again. God, the road to your house was too far to drag yourself through, but you just couldn’t.

You just couldn’t open up that contact card to press the phone button, and ask if you could crash at his place. You can’t, and you won’t.

So you switched off the computer, rushingly picked up your earphones, your phone, and grabbed your car key before turning to the elevator, marching your way out of the empty office. 

As the elevator dinged, you stepped inside. With doubt—and hope, you checked your phone again. A small voice hoped he had called, or at least texted you. But he didn’t. You scoffed, “So he was just high.” 

The familiar lobby of the building greeted you again as you stepped out of the elevator, slowly walking towards the glass doors as you said your goodbyes to the security guards there. With a huff, your hand pushed the glass door, the midnight air greeting your face. Tears pricked by your eyes, not from the cold, you couldn’t quite place why, but you felt like crying. 

You felt like crying because today was so tiring, because you have to drive home alone,

...because he said those things while being high, and decided not to say anything the next day.

“Stupid Hanta with his stupid fucking weed, making me hope for—”

The soft crack of concrete broke you out of your sobs, you turned to your right.

And there he stood.

His stupid grin staring back at you as he swayed back and forth on his feet, his hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie. He cleared his throat, a bit louder than he had to as he walked slowly, closer to you now. 

“...M’ sorry, pretty” He softly spoke, his hand emerging slowly from his pocket to softly brush away the hair on your face, his thumb wiping your tear hesitantly.

You flinched slightly from his touch, tearing your face away, making him stare at your back. “Do you even know what you’re sorry for, Han?” 

A small moment of silence fell, broken only by the soft winds swooshing in your ear and the small crickets of the night.

You huffed, exactly. He forgot. So you opened your mouth to say—

“For… saying those things,” He caught before you. 

“...While I’m high,” He stuttered, the sound of the concrete cracking again beneath his feet as he swayed back and forth again. And that caught you silent. He remembered.

“I-I…I’m sorry,” 

He walked closer, the heat of his body slowly taunting upon your back. “Sorry for… not texting you all day,”

“I was… nervous, sweets.” He admits—almost shyly. Biting his lip in hesitation before he gently pulled your shoulder, making you turn and look at him. 

“...I was scared you’d… laugh at me,” He said, his eyes drifting to the ground before muttering, “Or somethin’..”

With a soft tug, he pulled you close, his hand finding his way to your waist, the warmth of his hands contrasting the cold night. “But I mean… everything that I said, y/n, truth.” Tender was his voice, soft and gentle as his finger slowly tilted your chin up to search upon his eyes. It felt…real now. His eyes clear as day and dark as night at the same time, his voice hoarse and low, almost desperate. 

He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes as if he’s preparing for something, “I mean it when I said you’re pretty, when I said you’re too good, too kind,”

“...Fuck, y/n, I mean it when I said you’re everything to me.”

And silence fell again, you couldn’t wipe away the disbelief written, no, painted all over your face. Your mouth parted open, closing again, opening—say something! 

So you decided that words weren’t your answer.

His world fell still when your hand slowly pulled his face close, his lips brushing upon yours before you spoke softly, “...That was all I wanted to hear, Han.” Last words he heard before he pushed himself to you, gently basking in the warmth of your lips upon his. He gently pulled you flush against him, sighing softly against your lips, he smiled. “Took you long enough,” 

You smiled, hands finding his hoodie to grip it, pulling him closer to you to kiss him again. 

“Shut up,” You giggled, finally pulling away shyly as you hid your eyes from him. 

Then he grinned, gently pulling your face to look at him again. “My place, hm?” He smiles, his thumb tracing your cheek softly, wiping the tear that stuck to your face from earlier.

“Gotta make it up for not callin’ you, hm?” That stupid grin was back, laced with something else, the cherry on top? winking at you. 

A giggle was all you managed, nodding shyly. 

He squeezed your waist just a little, snatching the car key from your hand before leading you to your car. “After you, sweets.” He ushered, opening the passenger seat. You obliged, looking back to him with a small smile and confusion lacing your eyes just slightly.

“Not gonna let you drive back,"

"Now that you’re mine, gotta treat you right, hm?”

dworkism | do not repost!

a/n: hihihihi sorry if this was kinda fast paced :)))

➤ masterlist!