Ehehehehehehehe

✮⋆˙— the gods favor you, mortals!

the gods sure are hard to please, yet these particular mortals have their interest.

ft. eijiro k., hanta s., izuku m., katsuki b., kaminari d., tenya i.

➤ masterlist!

Kratos smiles down on Eijiro and his persistence on being better, stronger. But not just for his own benefit, no. Eijiro seems to always push himself to the limit or even beyond just to improve himself so that he could help those around him. His ambition of being someone who can help others strikes Kratos’ interest. It’s not often the cruel and gruesome god sees someone using their strengths for something… beneficial. Sure, strength and murder? Expected, common even. But strength and kindness? Now that’s something he’s new to. 

Hanta’s bright smile shone through the clouds to reach Dionysus’ eyes. He loved seeing his wide grin, it’s as if this human was made in his image, for his eyes to see. A laughter so loud it echoed in his ears like a melody. Hanta’s tendency to always crack jokes and the way he yearns to hear people laugh tugs all the right strings in Dionysus’ heart. How could he not? The mortal is the epitome of fun and madness, laughter and sorrow, all combined into the perfect mixture of lawful chaos.

Hera is tough, but her walls crept down for Izuku. The mortal devotes himself to the core. From the moment he cried himself to sleep for not having any specialties, till the moment he throws himself to danger in slivers of hope of saving his friend, she witnessed it all, and she smiled. Such a loyal boy, Athena had missed her chance in not favoring him simply because he looked weak. Look at him now! And even in all his glorious strength now, he still devotes himself to train, and better yet? That chin of his is always kept down, and his hands are always open for those in need. 

Katsuki always had Ares’ name written all upon him, yet Athena saw him first. Fists and scowls were what Katsuki was, yet the goddess saw past that—she saw his ambitions. Beyond that fury and his burning eyes, Katsuki’s goal was to become what Athena exactly searched for; a warrior. Someone who aims for nothing but the best, and she basks in that. He does not stop for anyone, doesn’t give a second thought to act. Although some will view him as reckless, Athena’s eyes see consistency and certainty, and that’s exactly what she needs.

Thunder might be what Kaminari brings, but his name is not called upon Zeus’ lips. The boy strikes a chord in Hermes’ smile. The god swears he sees himself in the mortal, always jumping from place to place, with all topics to speak of on his tongue, as if he himself was the god of messenger. Hermes lives for chatterboxes—those people who exist and people shall smile, and not just that, he lives for someone who will always be there for everyone, in joyous celebrations or quiet mourns; and Kaminari ticks those boxes and more on his list.

From the moment Themis laid her eyes on Tenya, she knew the boy pleads for justice in his very breath. His whole existence was built by himself upon order and equality, even his motivation to become a hero was to bring justice to his brother’s name. Justice does not caress the heart, yet it brings satisfaction to those who have lost. Themis’ lips curled into a smile as the mortal who so badly upheld his reputation of being someone who shall avoid violence at all cost. And yet, when grief sliced his tongue like a bastard, he did not scream for mercy—he called for justice, for her.

dworkism | do not repost!

taglist: @bloomstream

a/n : might do more of these later cs theyre so FUUNN hehehhee

➤ masterlist!

༄.° — 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!

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!

HIII BLOOM !!!! i was wondering if you could do a lil fluff drabble of you chilling with sero in his room during like a talking stage ?

⋆˚࿔ the synonyms of epitome

authors note: siri what is a talking stage. seraph thank u for requesting ⸝⸝^ᴗ^⸝⸝ sorry for the wait!!

contains: gn!reader, unestablished relationship, fluff, awful flirting

word count: 1.1k

“and she was the—“ hanta glanced up at you. his eyebrow lifted as he looked at you through the stray hairs that had fallen from his shaggy— surprisingly well kept —mullet. you could see his jaw lock into a comfortable smile as he propped it up in the palm of his hand.

“epitome.” you nodded in confirmation. 

it was only midday, so you could hear the distant sounds of footsteps and murmurs of conversation coming from the ua lively students outside. you glanced at the blossoming cherry blossom trees out of hanta’s slightly ajar window. the blush dusted leaves fought against the wind, constant rustles confirming its battle. 

you rest your head against the headboard of hantas bed and took it all in. the wind whistled loudly, sharing secrets with the inner shell of your ear. you liked days like this. simple.

“epitome,” hanta copied from the foot of his bed. his pointer finger followed the words in the book mr. aizawa had assigned for your ancient history class too long ago. 

you had already read the book and wrote your review paper on it two weeks ago but when hanta came to you asking if you wanted to read the awfully boring novel together, who were you to say no?

hanta had a way of making everything feel more alive. over the past few months you, and a handful of other people, have taken notice of how much the two of you spend time together— in how much you enjoy his presence. 

he didn’t have to be telling a dumb joke or making fun of something stupid denki had done. something as simple as being by your side while you’re folding your laundry or mindlessly browsing on your phone, was enough to make you feel so unreasonably good. 

there was something special about your relationship with hanta. something that hasn’t been spoken about on surface level. but the signs were definitely there. 

“she was the epitome of beauty.” hanta finished the sentence, he brows knitting together. “epitome.” he said again. he pinned the book onto his bed with one hand and idly fiddled with his ruffled sheets with his other. 

“he’s basically saying she’s the perfect embodiment of beauty.” you said. “he really likes her.”

hanta nodded his head slowly, “but when he talks to her he acts like he doesn't care?” hanta asks, but it’s clearly his question is coming from curiosity and not confusion. 

you let out a short hum in reply and thought of the best explanation. “well.. maybe he feels too nervous when he  talks to her and can’t show his true emotions?” you tap your fingers against the spine of the novel. you hadn’t given the half baked romance trope of the book much thought but hell if hanta was asking, you were suddenly interested too.

hanat scoffed, shifting from his position. “if i thought someone was the ‘epitome’ of beauty,” his words started off strong but seemed to slowly tumble into a declaration of uncertainty. still he went on, “i would talk to them before anyone else could.” he let out an airy breath. “but i guess i don’t blame him for being nervous.” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 

you nudged his leg from your spot on the bed, “so what? you see someone you like and immediately ask them out?”

hanta’s eyes flicker to your smirking face,  “i see someone i like and i become their friend.” his eyes fell back onto his bedding. he was really admiring the 100% cotton material. 

“uh huh.” 

“and maybe, eventually, i would ask them out after a couple of years.” he says, his finger making a swirling motion.

“a couple of years?!” you exclaimed, shooting up into a  straightened posture, “you’d make the person you think is perfect wait years for a confession?” you asked, a finger pointed at the tape boy as you suppressed a laugh. you didn’t expect hanta to be so... timid. “who would wait that long?” you asked, genuinely curious.

hanta finally peeled his eyes away from his sheets. his tone indicated that his confidence quickly flooded back, “someone who really likes me too.” he stated, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. 

it was your turn to shift positions now, suddenly feeling like you were under interrogation, when you were really just under hanta’s gaze. your finger fell at his shockingly mature reply. “i guess that makes sense..” you bite your lip.

hanta chuckles at this.

you sighed before you spoke again, allowing your curiosity to get the best of you, “sooo what type of person are you even into?” 

in the couple of years you’ve know hanta he’s never actually had anyone he was talking to, at least not that you know of. and for some reason you felt the need to learn everything about him. it was only natural, right?

hanta shrugged, “someone who can put up with my bullshit.” the book was abandoned now, his idle tracing too, leaving all his attention on you. 

his eyes lit a dangerous fire under you, one that scuffed the surface of your interest. not to the point where it burned, but it left your skin unusually warm. “that leaves your playing field pretty empty huh?” you choose to tease, knowing that if you thought too hard you’d send yourself into a red faced spiral. 

hanta laughed, rubbing his forehead as he shook his head. “not completely empty.” he remarked, something about his words hinting at a subliminal message. “what’s your type then, cerebrito?”

the question caught you by surprise. you hadn’t had time to focus on building romantic relationships with others. you mostly focus on strengthening the relationship you had with your friends, hanta being your strongest. 

“i guess i would like to date someone who can make me laugh. and who likes to spend time with me.” you replied, purposely being broad. hanta had a telling look on his face, making you intrigued to what he was plotting.

hanta nodded, clicking his tongue. “would you like, be into some guy who likes to read boring ass books with you?” he asked carefully, almost like he was ensuring he could play off as a joke if you didn’t answer adequately.

you smiled, ignoring the increase in your heart rate and the sirens blaring in your head. leaning forward, you

force yourself to gently shove his chest, “i would be into a guy who knows what the word epitome means.” you bite back— though it’s more of a playful nip . 

hanta raised a brow and put on a smile, “oh? so you wouldn’t be into a guy who’s the epitome of stupidity?”

he's so stupid. so stupid and so your type. 

“i’m into guys who finish their homework.” you tapped the edge of his copy of the novel. 

hanta settled back into his original position, grinning like he had just won a golden prize. “alright y/n. give this guy a couple of hours and you won’t have to wait any longer.” he brought his focus back to the work below him, “i promise.”

EHEHEHEHEEEEE THIS IS 💕💕💕💕💕✅✅✅✅💥💥💥💕💕💕💕

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎

pairing: sero hanta x gn!reader

genre/warnings: camp counselor au/summer camp au, fluuuuffy fluff, suggestive, substance use (weed), cussing, implied sexual content in public (making out)

nothing brings out the attraction between two counselors more like late night smoke sessions and the inevitable end of summer camp

𐙚⋆° — reparation

pairings : hanta s. x gn!reader

warnings : i made this story from a dream i had guys pls pls sorry if its bad, reader is in support course :0, slowww buuurrnn, kind of IMPLIED but not explicitly said to be fem!reader (they just hang out a lot with the girls cause yea), LOTS of dialogue, and SWEARING , suicide joke SORRY

a/n : IM SORRY I MAKE SO MANY HANTA STUFF ZZZZZ i think i'll make eijiro next cAUSE this was kinda based off of this

➤ masterlist!

4,1k word count!

The Sports Festival was the first time you saw him. That lopsided grin present as his name flashed on the screen. Your first thought was how funny he looked. Sure, he’s cute, but those elbows are such a characteristic. You couldn’t help but snicker a bit. Seeing him get absolutely devoured by a certain two-tone haired, yet that smile persisted, as if it’s a stubborn stain, refusing to be washed away. 

You remember that time, texting Kyoka about it.

[ 12:30 ] you : was that guy from your class lol [ 12:30 ] you : he’s kinda cute :P 

And maybe that was the trigger point. 

When Higari asked your class to create a gear design based off of a quirk, you didn’t sketch out a gear for yourself, or a pro-hero, no. Maybe it was just inspiration, or maybe just admiration; but you made a gear based off of him. The page is still stuck in your notebook until now, complete with little notes of each parts’ functions and whatnot. Even Higari himself nodded in approval. Yet the gear never came to life.

Or so you thought.

It was the middle of the semester when students in the heroics course started flooding the workshop. Around that time Mei seemed to work tirelessly day and night from how many requests she’s gotten from them. You were not much different, although the requests sent to you were quite a bit easier. Then one morning, that same lanky figure, lazing grin and laid back voice was present. In flesh, Hanta Sero. 

His first awkward greeting to you was when you were carefully screwing shut a small contraption. 

“Hey uh…” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck while his other hand was holding something, like scraps of metal or something.

“C-can you help me uh… fix this?” His grin grew, a look of guilt present in his face, mixed with sheepishness. 

Your face contorted to confusion, brows stitched together while you attempted to figure out what was supposed to be fixed when all he held out was scraps of metals and screws. 

With a sigh, you lifted up your goggles, and said; “I can’t fix scraps,”

“I’ll just make you a new one. Just describe to me what your gear’s supposed to do.” You chuckled, hands already snaking to the table to grab your notebook and pen.

And now here you are. Second year, second semester. You had grown close with the girls in the heroics course, especially Mina and Kendo, since they visit the workshop a little bit too often.

It was lunch time, you sat with the girls from 2-A, chattering and laughing about.

“How about you, y/n?” Tooru’s voice chimed through your daze. “You never tell us anything!”

You raised your eyebrows in interest, a hum to respond. 

Tooru giggled, “You never tell us who you’ve got your eyes on! Come onn, there’s gotta be someone, right?”

You blinked. 

Someone..?

You huffed a chuckle, “Nah, probably someone soldering iron right now.” 

But then your mind flickered to that one page in your notebook. That lazy grin and those cheesy jokes he’d throw around while you measured his elbows, and how you’ve somehow memorized his blazer’s smell that always reeked of tangerines. Or maybe how he sometimes would bring your favorite snack with him, giving it to you as a token of gratitude.

Your eyes fell to your tray, your lunch still half eaten while your chopsticks hovered over your rice. “I dunno,” You shrugged. “M’ not really thinking of that stuff right now,” 

Mina whined, “See? I told you! It’s hard to get y/n’s mouth to open about these kinds of stuff!” 

A smirk tugged at your lips as you took a portion of rice into your mouth, chuckling at her acts. 

༉‧₊˚.

You hummed to the song playing in the workshop as you carefully placed a small chip into the gear laid in front of you. A small tweezer pinched in your hand as you slowly descended the small piece, only for the door to open with an ear-cracking holler.

“yyyyy/nnnnn” Hanta’s voice whined, his feet dragging him to your desk.

“My gear broke, again! Such horror…” He dramatically collapsed himself, placing a hand on his forehead as he handed out his wrecked gear.

You stifled back a laugh, rolling your eyes as you focused your attention on the gear on your desk again, carefully placing the chip.

“You do this every week like it’s a routine,” You chuckled.

He gasped, placing his hand on his chest. “Foul creature!” 

He stood up, pointing his finger to the sky while his lips twitched to a smile. “I must tell you, this gear is simply not able to contain my true power!” 

“Falling down the stairs is not true power, Han.” You grinned, screwing shut the gear as you examined it one last time.

“...Okay, fine I dropped it.” He huffed, “But it just means your work needs to be evaluated!” He argued, pacing back and forth as if lecturing you.

“You’re one to talk,” You snorted, setting aside the small gear to a box before turning your chair to face him, to face his stupidly grinning face.

He laughed, getting on his knees as he handed the gear on his palms to you like it’s an offering. “Pleaseeee, pleaseee, fix this, pleaasee?” 

With a roll of your eyes, you snatched the gear, placing it on your desk for the umpteenth time, your hands already readying the same screws, bolts, and everything the gear needed, already embedded into your memory like it’s your mother’s recipe. “I don’t even have to ask what’s broken anymore, Han, it’s that often.”

“Hey, it makes your job easier, riigghtt?” He nudged your shoulder. “Besides, it gives me an excuse to see you, don’t you miss me sometimes?” He asked, pulling a chair to sit.

You smiled, hands pausing on the gears casing as you were unscrewing it. 

“I guess,” You mumbled.

He chuckled, the sound coming out more like a shriek more than anything. 

“I gueeess” He imitated, you can even hear him sticking out his tongue at you. “Lying is bad y/n. Admit it. Your workshop feels dead without me,” 

“I like the quietness better, actually.”

He giggled, “Ouch, man, here I thought we were long lost siblings.” With a creak of the chair, he leaned to your desk, eyeing you from the side. “I’ll pay you back, ‘kay?”

“With what?” You chuckled, eyes fixed on the gear. 

“Banana milk,” He snickered, “And maybe if I’m feeling generous I’ll also buy you those steamed cakes you always eat since our first year.” 

“The fuck?” You snorted. “You remember that?”

He pssh’ed, “Duh?”

“You eat that shit like it’s a reward every time you’re done with like… five gears or something,”

Glancing sideways, you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. “You’re weird.”

“You love me,” He teased, pushing himself to stand up from the chair. “Those steam cakes are ass, you’re weird.” 

You mumbled a mock to him, sticking out your tongue as you reached out to grab a mold from the drawer. 

His steps receded as he laughed, hands buried in his pocket while he walked backwards towards the door.

“I’ll get the original flavour,” He yelled. “Byeeee,” 

Clack.

An hour and thirty minutes.

It took an hour and thirty minutes for you to finish that damned gear. To be exact, an hour and thirty minutes after you’ve finished the other gears before that. With a small groan, you stretched your arms above your head, your body’s slouch finally stretched out to fix your posture. 

07:30 P.M. — The clock blinked, red bold digital numbers as if reminding you to stop and close the workshop for the day. So you did. 

With a soft click, you locked the workshop’s doors, sighing softly to yourself while your other hand clutched your bag, keeping it on your shoulder. The floors of the building squeaked with the rubber soles of your shoes as you dragged your feet, echoing against the empty building.

Tucked away carefully in your bag was the reason. His gear, you even painted it in his signature colors; white, black, and yellow. Maybe that was the reason your clothes smelled like fresh paint all over, but you didn’t mind. You’d stuck a small note on it, written in your handwriting;

‘Don’t break this one >:(‘

The conversation from earlier rang in your mind again. Tooru’s sweet voice chiming that casual question, but somehow it bugs you a bit. “Come onn, there’s gotta be someone, right?”

Someone.

You chuckled softly to yourself as you mindlessly made your way to his class, no need to remind you again; his desk was third from the back, second from the right. 

With a small noise, you placed down the gears, securing it into his drawer before you silently made your way out of the dark, empty classroom, then making your way to your dorm. 

༉‧₊˚.

“Jeez,” Hanta muttered in awe, carefully examining the gears now resting on top of his desk. His grin grew as he saw the note, an expression—that of amazed and amused. His thumb grazed carefully over it, as if afraid to smudge it. 

Even the colors were spot on, too, his colors. Small details you had implanted to the gear—maybe it was to ensure that he doesn’t break it again, or maybe it was just your way of evaluating your work. Either way, he finds himself grinning from ear to ear as he chuckles, looking at his newly fixed gear. You’d put an additional hole on the strap so he can adjust it more accordingly, the edges were smoothed out so that it sits comfortably on his arms.

“Shut up,” He laughed, the sound coming out more gentle—awestruck, adoring.

༉‧₊˚.

Knock knock knock! — The workshop door opened slightly, creaking as a shuffling sound made its way into the room. He’s right behind me, isn’t he.

“Moooorning,” He sang out, shaking the plastic bag in front of you. 

“Banana milk, and steamed cake. Just how my favorite mechanic likes it.” He placed the bag beside your arm, “Yooouu’re welcome,” Pride laced his voice.

God, all you can do is smile, as you slowly peeked your hand into the plastic bag, peeking inside with the exact things he said. “You know you don’t have to do this aaall the time, right?”

“I know,” He shrugged, rocking back and forth on his heels. “But I wanna,” 

“...You’re just bribing me,”

“I’m for reeaaaalll”

“...Thanks, Han.” You hummed, smiling softly as you reached into the bag, unwrapping the small steamed cake. The plastic rustled against your fingers as you tried to open it.

“You suck at opening shit,” He snickered, snatching the cake from you, ripping it open before handing it back to you. “Hm, eat,”

You blinked at him, feigning offense. “I was getting there.” You said, chuckling. 

“Sure you were,” he teased, plopping down onto the nearest stool like he owned the place. “At the speed of a dying turtle.” The noise he made next was ugly. Imitating a grandma talking. 

“Screw off,” You giggled, sticking your tongue out at him but took a bite anyway.

He watched you, arms crossed and chin propped on the edge of the worktable, eyes all full of mischief and… something else. Quieter. Warmer.

“You should smile like that more often,” he said out of the blue, his smirk faded into a small smile.

Your chewing paused. “…Like what?”

He leaned back with a stretch. “Like you actually like me.”

You shot him a look. “Han—”

“Kiddingg!” he grinned, holding his hands up in surrender. “Juusst kidding.”

After a small pause, he spoke up, “I gotta go now, my first class is heroics,” Hanta smiled, slapping his palms to his knees as he stood up. 

With his hands in his pockets he walked to the door. “Byyyee, don’t miss me,”

“Oh, and finish the cake, it was super expensive.”

It had been like that for a little over a year now. He’d come to you, whining about his broken gear, begging on his knees for you to fix it—and every time you did so, you threatened him to never break it again or you’re not fixing it ever again. But that never happened. Every time he whined back to you, you’d fix it, no matter how much you groaned about it, you still fixed it for him. And he’d come to you the next morning to bring your favorites; always the same banana milk and steamed cake. 

And honestly? It stuck to you. It became a small little routine for you, something you’d grown used to. But today—after yesterday’s little chat at lunch—it felt special, somehow. It felt like he saw you, like he…

…cares about you. 

But that was just a silly thought. 

You snorted. 

Hanta’s nice. That’s what he is, nice, friendly. Welcoming to everyone, and you were no exception. 

༉‧₊˚.

God, these projects show no mercy. And if you weren’t that much of a procrastinator, maybe these wouldn’t be stacked up into a bundle that you had to finish by tomorrow. A small grumble left your lips as you tweaked the final blueprint, scratching down the stiff paper before huffing a small celebration, rolling it up to tuck it behind your desk. 

The clock showed the time—06:30 P.M.

Ugh. You missed your show again. With a small sigh, you stepped towards the door, rummaging through your pocket to ready the keys and lock the door. 

Clack. The door closed, the lock clicking softly as you turned it to the right, jingling before you stuffed it back into your pocket. 

“Like you actually like me.” His joke echoed. 

His joke.

You brushed it off, even though a small smile tugged on your lips as you adjusted your bag over your shoulder, steps light towards the exit. 

Wait. Is that…?

Standing by the gates was that same lanky figure, tall and lilt, hair slicked from the rain while his laugh echoed through it. You almost smiled, almost laughed at his face. Almost. Before you saw her. A small girl standing next to him, smiling so sweetly at him while his blazer was draped over her, fitting and perfect. The same blazer he usually draped over your shoulder when the workshop felt too cold, and he felt too warm. The one that had a small twinge of oil stuck to its cuff. The one that smelled like tangerines.

He said something. Something that made her laugh. And he smiled at that. He smiled at her laugh.

Like he was proud of it. 

You felt your chest twist. Scrunched up and stretched. The rain wasn’t making anything better. The fact that you’re tired and pent up from today made everything worse. 

So you ran. 

You ran past them, bag over your head as you picked up your pace, your face was wet, and cold, not just from the rain. You hoped he didn’t see you, didn’t see that grimace you had on your face, didn’t see the way you bit your lip. But you hoped he did. Hoped he saw you. 

The streets were blurry by the rain, thunder clapping above your head as you ran to the dorms. And you slipped. Slipped just enough to make you drop to your knees and scraped your palms. You groaned in frustration, in hurt.

So all this time you were just his fixer upper? Cool.

༉‧₊˚.

Two weeks.

It took him two weeks to notice something was wrong. Sure, you still fixed his gear, although he didn’t break them this time. Said they were ‘too pretty’ to be broken, but even that didn’t earn your usual witty remark, you just smiled faintly to him. 

But he brushed it off. 

Maybe you were just tired, maybe his trick of ‘breaking’ his gear was starting to piss you off. Maybe he needed a new excuse to see you other than fixing his gear. 

Maybe you were growing tired of him. Naaaahhh. No way, jose. 

You like his company, you enjoy being around him. He sees that, he sees you. 

…But why were you pulling away? Did he say something? Okay maybe he did throw a small offensive joke. But you always laughed at that! So what was wrong? What was so wrong that you’re not even laughing at his jokes? His actions? Him?

Okay, fine. Whatever. Maybe you just needed some space. 

So he gave you that. 

But the moment he came into the workshop shaking your usual banana milk and steamed cake combo, and you rejected that? 

“I’m good, Han. Thanks.” You replied. Blunt, short, precise, to-the-motherfucking-point.

Oh he screwed up. He screwed something up. 

“Oh, uh..”

“Okay, I’ll uh… give this to Denks then, dude eats everything.” He chuckled awkwardly, the plastic rustling by his side.

“Mhm, okay.” 

Shiiiittt he’s so screwed. 

You didn’t even chuckle, and that’s how he knew.

༉‧₊˚.

“They hate me. They hate me so bad. I’m killing myself.” Hanta whined to his pillow, Kaminari perched by the edge of his bed.

“They didn’t even CHUCKLE at me, Den.” He groaned, his muffled voice cracking as he threw his arms up.

Kaminari sighed, arms folded as he glanced at the ravenette. “You’re being dramatic, Han.”

“No I’m not!” He protested, shooting up from his bed to sit up. “I’m not, okay? I just—I don’t know what I did, I just—...” He sighed, flopping back into his bed, groaning as he ran his hands over his face. “I don’t wanna lose them, Den..” He mumbled in a trembling voice.

“Then tell them that.” Kaminari shrugged, a chuckle on his lips as he scooted closer, patting Hanta’s thigh.

“...How?” He croaked back. “I don’t even know what I did wrong, dude I just…”

“Two weeks ago we were fine, I even made risky ass jokes to them and they laughed! And when I was lending that girl my blazer—”

Kaminari whistled. “Bingo.”

The bed shuffled as he sat up, head darting to Kaminari’s way while his mouth hung open. “Shit.”

“Go, Han.” 

༉‧₊˚.

The halls of UA had never felt so… suffocating. He’s been here before, like hours like these too. Just now he feels like he’s risking his life as he stares at the slightly cracked open door of the support course workshop. His steps felt heavy, like lead weights dragged through the ground, and his mouth felt dry, like water had never touched his tongue, and suddenly the plastic bag in his right hand felt too plastic-y. The faint tune of your favorite song was humming through the air, as well as the consistent whir of the sanding machine. 

As he slowly pushed the door open, the creak felt loud—too loud. Loud enough for you to dart your eyes to the door and paused your hand. His throat fell dry, drier than before.

“H-hey,” He grinned. It felt too wide, too stiff. But he didn’t care.

You held your gaze on him for a moment, brows furrowed, and he swore even when he couldn’t see your eyes through your goggles, he felt your stare pierce through him. 

The sanding machine came to life again, louder this time as you ducked your head back to the gear in your hand. “Hey,” you mumbled back, not bothering to look at him.

“I uh…”

“I wanted to talk to you,” He chuckled, stepping just a bit closer, his hand gripping the plastic bag tighter.

Perhaps his portion of response from you had run out. You stayed silent as you continued sanding the casing of the gear, stopping briefly to examine it. 

“...Y-you’re mad, at me, …I think,”

“And I uh…I just… I wanted to fix that, y/n.” He shifted his weight between his feet, chewing his bottom lip as you slowly paused the machine, setting it aside on your desk.

“Why?” You bluntly asked. Perching your elbow on your armrest as you lifted up your goggles. 

God, you’re such a sight to him. Even angry and frowning at him like this, you took his breath away, if not more.

“B-because—...”

“I care?” 

“I mean–! I care, I care, …I care… a lot,” He grinned again, nodding as if convincing himself before he cleared his throat, louder than necessary. “I care… I care about you, y/n.”

His gaze fell to the ground, pressing his lips into a thin line, he shut his eyes. “I…I made a mistake, okay? A-and… I hurt you, and I’m… real sorry, y/n.”

“...I don’t…wanna lose you,” He breathed that out, coming out barely above a whisper while his hand gripped the plastic bag tighter.

“Look–.. that one time, y-you saw me with that girl at the gate? S-she meant nothing, okay?”

“I just…wanted to be nice,” He muttered quietly, almost as if in shame. 

“You’re always nice, Han.” You blurted, finally opening up your voice. It felt cold, different from what he was so used to hearing. “You’re always nice to everyone, aren’t you?” Your voice shook.

“...You probably think this is stupid, I don’t care.” You spat, your voice held a small tinge of anger in it.

“You made me think that you… you liked me, and—” 

“Because I do.” 

The words hung there, waiting for your response as the air conditioner hummed through the air.

“I…I do like you, y/n.”

“A lot.” He whispered quietly, his arms swinging in nervousness as he chewed on his lip, suffocated by the silence you answered with. 

You stared at him. 

Not just because he was standing there, but his words rang to your ears. It was what you wanted to hear. That confession, that maybe he cared for you for a reason. And he did. He did care for you for a reason. 

“For a long time now, okay?”

“I—... I don’t even know when– I just–...”

He sighed. “I just… really like talking to you, I like how you understand my dumb jokes, and you even—...it’s dumb, but you flirt back when I do, okay? And that shit was hot… for me.”

He groaned, wiping his eyes with frustration in his movements, throwing his head back as he stammered; “I’m screwing this shit up– I’m..” 

“y/n I’m just… sorry,” He said, finally looking at you. Hints of tears threatening to fall down his cheeks while he stared at you with desperation written all over his face.

“Please don’t… don’t leave,” 

And you wanted to cry, and laugh, at the same time. Cry because you’ve never seen him like this, because did he really just lay his heart bare to you? Laugh because God he looks ridiculous right now. So desperate, so sad, if this was a less serious moment, maybe you’d pull out your phone and record him. 

So you smiled, “I like you too,”

“H–..What..?” He croaked back, his voice unsteady as he looked up at you again.

“I like you, Hanta, I like you, back.”

He breathed out a laugh, finally smiling after what felt like his face was stretched down to the earth for the past few minutes, he grinned, running his hand through his hair. “You– what?” 

Ahem. “Okay wait, pause—” 

“C-can I–..?” A hand reached out to you hesitantly, sheepish and nervous, twitching slightly as if scared you’ll break if he touches you. 

Slowly, you reached back, enveloping your hands into his, letting him slowly pull you into his embrace. Warm, quiet, and… smells like tangerines. A small giggle escaped his lips as he brought his hand up to your hair, carefully caressing it. “Shit, I’m so— happy right now,”

His heartbeat was fast, shinkansen speed-kinda-fast, you heard it as you slowly buried your face to his shoulder, your arms awkwardly wrapping around his waist, and you couldn’t help but smile widely, nuzzling yourself into him. 

“I thought I messed this up, I swear— like, real bad, y’know?” He murmured into your hair, a hand gently resting over the line between your hip and waist. “I thought I lost you,” 

With a swift motion, he took off his blazer, carefully resting it on your shoulders, as he wrapped his arms around you again.

“S’ yours now,”

“...What?”

“My blazer—...your blazer.”

You giggled, lightly pinching his shoulder. “Shut up,”

“Hey come on!” He chuckled, “I’ll even trademark it for ya,”

You grinned against his shoulder, arms wrapping just a bit tighter around him.

“C’mon, I know you looovee me that much, but I know you’re also hungry,” His hand nudged your arm with the plastic bag, “I brought my favorite mechanic’s favorites,” He hummed out.

“Steamed cake and banana milk.”

He grinned. “Just how you like it,” 

And in the warm, quiet thrum of the workshop, under buzzing lights and the soft scent of sawdust and tangerines, it finally felt right.

Like home.

dworkism | do not repost!

➤ masterlist!

i gotta write other things other than this man i swear

I CONFESS

I actually edit my works a bit after every time I post guys m sorry :P

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

HII LOVE YOUR TAMAKI WORK SM ALSO I WAS WONDERING IF YOU CAN DO TAMAKI X PREGNANT READER LIKE CUTE LITTLE THINGS LIKE THE BABY KICKING AND TAMAKI JUST HELPING READER WHEN EVER SHE IS HUNGRY OR PAIN AND WHEN THEY FIRST FOUND OUT ABOUT THE BABY?? 💞💞

HELLO ANONN! first of all, thank you so muchh! I'm so glad you enjoy my work!! <33 thank you for this ADORABLLEE request! I had much fun writing this short one, I hope this satisfies you!

❀˖° — suneater's sunshine

pairings : tamaki amajiki x fem!reader

warnings : a bit suggestive at the start, but tis all!

➤ masterlist!

Tamaki had always been the pretty nervous one in your relationship. Hell, it was such a sight to see him all flustered on your first night after your wedding. He couldn’t stop apologizing and turning his head away, although his eyes did betray glances to you as you lay atop of him. 

And now here you were, sitting on the toilet, your hand trembled slightly as you clasped the other over your mouth.

Two lines.

So plain to the sight, obvious, plain. You are expecting.

Your lips slipped out a single chuckle of disbelief, and your hand found its way to your stomach, as if saying your silent hello to the one growing inside of you. 

The bathroom door burst open as you rushed out to Tamaki, who was busy fastening his cloak. He jolted upon your sudden loudness, “W-what’s wrong, angel?” He cautiously asked, walking over to you to study your expression that contrasted his concerned one. Your smile grew wider as you slowly lifted the small strip of pregnancy test to him, your finger pointing to the two lines displayed on it as you squealed. “I-I’m..” You giggled in giddiness, “Tama, I’m pregnant! I-I’m pregnant!!” 

Tamaki’s hand felt stiff so suddenly, dropping his cloak to the floor as he rushed closer to you, his hand hovering over the test as his eyes flickered upon it, as if studying it, figuring out if it was real or not. “H-how…? What…?” His voice was small, disbelief and a hint of smile laced upon it. He scoffed a laugh, before looking at you, as his smile grew wide. Gently, he grabbed you by the waist, and you could definitely feel his hands slightly tremble as he did. 

With a smile, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, “Thank you, angel.” He softly spoke. 

His hand moved to your chin to tilt it up just slightly, enough for him to look into your eyes, smiling so lovesick-ly. Then he kissed you again, this time on your nose as he pressed his forehead on yours. 

Ahem..! 

He pulled back slowly, now grasping you by the shoulders as his eyes turned somewhat serious, although a hint of pleading was in it as well. 

“This means… you should.. uh… stop drinking so much coffee, k-kay..?” Cracked and nervous was the voice that came out of him, and you could feel the slight tightening on his grasp. 

You chuckled, nodding as you rolled your eyes. “Yeeess, Tama. I promise,” 

⋆˚꩜｡

A few months had passed, and Tamaki couldn’t help but squeak softly in fuzziness for every time he saw you on the couch, all round and soft from the pregnancy, and as much he felt kind of guilty for it, he just couldn’t help but take a picture, and would even adore it for moments, smiling softly to himself. But as he heard the soft groan from you as you got up from the couch, he immediately rushed to your side, softly pushing you back down.

“Where are you going?” He asked, brows furrowing as a warning. 

“The dishes–” 

“I’ll do them, r-right now.” Were the words he would say before rushing to the chore. It happens all the time.

Whatever chore it was, he would say those exact words. Dishes? On it. Cooking dinner? Already did it. Hell, as much as hates it, he even took out the trash for you, forcing a strained smile as he walked out the door to convince you he was more than happy to help you around (which he was). Because if it meant you would rest and not buzz around the house, he’d do it.  

At nights where your mood swings were the worst, he’d always be there, and maybe even cry along with you just because he was too sentimental seeing you cry. He’d be kneeled down in front of you, caressing your belly softly, kissing it while he hushed things to you like; “You’re so strong, stronger than me, angel.” or “Oh, y/n, you’re so beautiful, hm? So beautiful..”

I can't stress it enough that he's such a fuss before and after doctor appointments. The first time your baby kicked, he was whispering sweet things to your belly, saying how excited he is to meet the baby and how beautiful it must be, and- nudge!

“What– what was that!!” He cried out, pointing to your belly as he shot up from his kneel.

You simply chuckled, reaching to his hand to calm him down as you replied, “It’s just the baby kicking, Tama.”

“But– but–! It was so harsh! A-and…” 

“I-I think we should go to the doctor, Y/n, I’m kind of worried…” 

And he did end up taking you to the doctor after about ten minutes of back and forth of him begging you and you reassuring him it was normal that a baby kicks, and his replies were always; “I know it’s normal for babies to kick! B-but that one wasn’t!!” (his argument was that the baby had always been calm before this)

So after the doctor did say it was normal, then he’d calm down. Rubbing his hand over his chest like an old grandma. But after the doctor says that you might have to rest more seeing the baby’s growth, he immediately took that and ran with it. By ‘ran with it’ I mean he forbids you to even go shopping, and he ended up being the one doing all the grocery shopping. And if that wasn’t enough, the moment you two came back from the doctor that day, he called his agency to say that he had to take a break from his hero work.

His reasoning?

“M-my wife needs me,”

Goodness, he was acting like the pregnant one the whole time, and panicked the most at the smallest events. Don’t even get me started when you said you had cramps that time when you woke up in the morning. (He thought he had killed the baby accidentally by kicking it when he was sleeping)

dworkism | do not repost!

➤ masterlist!

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!