NAGI WILL COME BACK. Ya Think Reo's Gonna Accept This?? NO!! He Literally Said His Ego Is To Help Nagi

call me crazy but osamu is SO the type of man to post his s/o with a caption of “i read your diary every line, i wanna drink your words like wine.”

This what i think bakugou's room looks like. Very minimalist. Throw in some weight for exercising somewhere, an all might poster on the wall and his fave figurine too on the desk.

I think he'd also have LED lights but like hidden under his desk or behind his bed

Thinking of you, an impudent young princess with a slight rebellious streak, who has scared off every guard your father has assigned to you. To combat this, the King decides to appoint Hinata Shoyo, a new knight with an indomitable spirit, to your staff. Clumsy and intent on making a name for himself, he may just be the answer to subduing your quiet revolt. | mlist

Your silken gown drapes against the cushioned sofa as you read your novel in a decidedly unladylike position. From the corner of your eye, you catch the scandalized look of your lady-in-waiting at how your legs sprawl; however, you find great pleasure in it.

Twisted as it may be to feel joy at the sight of another’s discomfort, princess etiquette is far too rigid for your liking, and your lady-in-waiting is a conservative prude.

Beams of sunlight tickle your face, and you bask in the feeling. Your mother is horrified by the idea of a princess’ skin burning, meaning wide-brimmed hats are a permanent fixture of your summer wardrobe. It’s a rare treat to feel warmth on your skin.

Moments such as this are sacred. You hold them close to your chest

So, who is this orange-haired oaf with the gall to cast a shadow over your precious sun?

“You are blocking the light.” You spit at the human obstruction. Sighing in annoyance, you slam your book shut and glare at him.

His face is unfamiliar to you. Unruly orange hair sticks up in various directions, a complement to his boyish features and short, stocky stature.

“Ah! I apologize!” The stranger exclaims. Metal from his armored suit clanks loudly as he scrambles to reposition himself away from the window. You cringe at the unwelcome noise. Eyes narrowing further, your gaze travels from his reddened face down to the family crest that rests on his breastplate.

He must be a Royal Knight. A rather jumpy one, but a Knight, regardless.

Your blushed lips turn up in subtle amusement, betraying your otherwise cold disposition.

“Do you often make it a habit to disturb Princesses?”

“No!” He stammers in a manner unbefitting for a brave soldier of the Kingdom. His posture stiffens suddenly, and he clears his throat, as if he’s suddenly remembered how knights are meant to act. He bends his body down in a poor attempt at a bow.

“I am Shoyo Hinata. The King has appointed me to serve as your knight.”

You snort. The foals in your stable have more grace than he.

How did he manage to become knighted? You wonder. Or, better yet, what is your father playing at, assigning this inept boy, who cannot be much older than yourself, to your staff?

Intrigued, you sit up in your chair. The bottom of your dress pools at your waist as your hands prop your face up.

“So you are the one who is sworn protect me?”

Shoyo looks up at you, body still contorted into an uncomfortable bow. “Um…yes?”

Your brow raises. “Is that an inquiry or an answer?”

“Yes!” He shouts. There’s a determination in his expression that surprises you. “I will do everything in my power to serve you!”

Your interest deflates at his eagerness. Knights are nothing but a chain on your independence. They’re sworn to protect; however, the only thing they do is hold you down. Humming, you pick your novel up once again, flipping the pages to find your spot.

“Well, Shoyo Hinata,” you speak, not bothering to look up, “ You cannot blame me for doubting your fitness to serve. The sight of you in armor is reminiscent of a child playing dress-up.”

“I am aware of my smaller stature,” he agrees, and you resist the urge to peek at his face, which must be discouraged.

Your record for scaring off a Knight is one week. Are you about to set a personal best?

Your fingers turn a page, pleased. “My father will not blame you for your resignation. I am sure that—“

The snide remark dies in your throat as you feel a sudden force tugging your book down. Your eyes widen at the closeness of Shoyo’s face. He leans in, and you feel yourself submitting to the overwhelming presence he takes up.

“I may be unassuming, but I will prove that I am worthy of serving you!” He says in earnest. His hand grips your book firmly, subjecting it to his flurry of passion. He is so near that you can see the rise and fall of his chest. “Wait, and you will see.”

You remain still.

Shoyo’s face pales, withdrawing his hand from your book. Stepping away, he raises his arms in submission. “My…my sincerest apologies. I did not mean to—“

“Very well.”

He looks at you incredulously. “Huh?”

“Very well.” You echo, “Let us see how you do.”

His expression morphs from panicked to excitable. A wide grin spreads across his face and his chest puffs slightly. Kneeling abruptly, his energy is palpable as he places a hand over his heart. Looking at you through the locks of hair that cascade across his face, a beam of light from the setting sun shines down on him, almost like a spotlight.

“You will not regret your decision.”

You chuckle. “That remains to be seen.”

—a/n: this is for @shouyuus and the three other shoyo stans who will read this:3 i have been obsessed with knight!shoyo since 2020 and i am so thrilled others are seeing the light…

—p.s. read rain’s take on knight!shoyo here

Reblog to head butt prev (affectionately of course).

osamu x reader

wc: 600 i thibk

it’s late, the kind of late where the streets outside are quiet and the sky is painted that deep navy blue that comes right before black. the shop is technically closed, but the lights are still on, casting a warm glow over the wooden counter and cozy chairs. you’re sitting on one of the stools, chin in your hand, watching osamu move around behind the counter like he’s done this a thousand times.

because he has.

“you sure you don’t mind me hangin’ around?” you ask, even though you already know the answer. it’s a question you throw out just to hear his voice.

he glances over his shoulder, one brow raised. “d’ya ask me that every time just so i’ll tell ya to stay again?”

you smile. “maybe.”

he shakes his head, but there’s the smallest grin tugging at his lips as he turns back to the rice cooker. he’s got his sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with bits of rice and sesame. it’s quiet for a bit, just the sound of him moving around and the soft hum of whatever old jazz song he’s got playing in the background. this place is his, every inch of it, and you like being here because when you’re here, it feels a little like you’re his, too.

he finally sets down a fresh plate in front of you—two onigiri, perfectly shaped. “try these,” he says, leaning on the counter to watch your reaction.

you bite into it and tilt your head. “hmm… secret recipe? or are you just trying to impress me again?”

“yeah,” he says, clearly pleased. “thought i’d try somethin’ different.”

you chew slowly, savoring it. “samu, this is unreal. you’re gonna have people lining up just for this.”

he shrugs, but the tips of his ears are pink. “yeah, well… ‘m glad you like it.”

you glance at him, your heart doing that quiet little stutter it always does when he looks at you like that—like you’re not just another customer who stuck around too long. like maybe he’s been waiting for you to stay.

you set the plate down and rest your arms on the counter, leaning a little closer. “you know,” you say softly, “you could probably close the shop and still feed me every night. i wouldn’t complain.”

he snorts. “you plannin’ on freeloadin’ off me, is that it?”

“maybe,” you tease, nudging his arm. “but only if you let me help out sometimes.”

he looks at you for a second—really looks at you. then he says, a little quieter than before, “you already help, y’know. just by bein’ here.”

your throat feels tight all of a sudden, and you duck your head to hide your smile. he’s not the kind of guy to say things like that often. when he does, it always sticks.

he walks around the counter, standing beside you now, and taps your leg lightly with his knee. “c’mon. help me close up. then i’ll walk you home.”

you hop off the stool, brushing crumbs off your clothes. “deal. but only if you promise to let me come by tomorrow.”

he pauses in the middle of wiping a table and turns to you, eyes soft. “you don’t gotta ask.”

and maybe it’s not a grand confession. maybe it’s not a dramatic moment under fireworks or in the rain.

but it’s enough.

and when you leave the shop with his hand brushing yours, with leftover onigiri in a paper bag and the promise of another quiet evening just like this one, you think—this might be the start of something really, really good.

i feel like i could make dialogue-less films

sometimes tumblr pmo so bad.

i so intensely crave this

someone needs to write a restaurant au where yn is a waitress and kyotani is a line cook