workshop burns
synopsis: after months of texting, playful teasing and dropping by the workshop with lunch or excuses to visit him, your crush finally calls you under the excuse of checking your suit after a mission. but there's a catch — you can't leave right after. katsuki has something else on his mind. something he can no longer ignore. something about the two of you.
about: fem!reader, supportcourse!katsuki, continuation (part 1 on tiktok), initial crush from reader, 'she fell first but he fell harder' trope, fluff, cursing.
word count: 2.2 k
"Took ya' long enough," Katsuki's lowered voice echoed inside the workshop.
Your eyes scanned the room — the lack of Mei's usual laughter, the absence of the other students taking the course, the rare but comforting privacy of having the space to yourselves.
In the middle of it all, Katsuki sat hunched over the table, his face lightly stained with dust. His red eyes were locked on the gadget in front of him, fingers carefully twisting a wrench to tighten a bolt.
"I came as soon as I could," you replied with a light-hearted smile, not even realizing how intently you were watching him. "A person can only run so fast after fighting villains all day," a sweet, tired chuckle left you.
Visiting Katsuki had become a routine for you: checking on your suit's progress, letting him take measurements for other projects, bouncing ideas off each other for useful gadgets, bringing him lunch to remind him there was a whole world outside these four walls. You'd grown used to seeing him often, yet your heart still fluttered and your stomach still twisted every time he glanced back at you.
"Plus, you piqued my interest with that last message," you added softly, sliding the workshop door shut behind you.
"Hm," was Katsuki's response. Short, but strangely charged in a way you'd never heard before.
His gaze stayed fixed on the device he was closely working on, seemingly unfazed by your arrival.
That was normal for him.
At least, that's what you told yourself.
"What are you working on?" you asked, reaching for one of the abandoned chairs nearby. You wiped the collected dust off the seat before sitting down.
The workshop was always a mess — leftover, unfinished gadgets in scattered pieces across the tables, scorch marks on the walls from Mei's experiments with fire-related gadgets or from Katsuki's explosion when someone got on his nerves. Yet his corner remained noticeably more organized than the rest.
Mei told you he only cleaned up when he knew you were coming. But you couldn't bring yourself to believe that.
"Some other nerd from the hero course asked for modifications on this gauntlet," he muttered, his voice rough and low, like speaking any louder might break his focus. "No matter how much I tweak it, the damn thing it's still shitty." he continued, eyes never lifting.
"I assume you didn't make it, then" you said with a small chuckle, admiring him far more than the gadget itself.
"Never in hell," he scoffed. "I couldn't fuck up a single gadget this bad even if I tried."
Katsuki let out a final sigh as he set his tools down on the metal table, the soft clink seemingly snapping him out of the concentration bubble he was trapped in. He ran his forearm across his forehead, wiping away sweat and leftover dust, before finally turning to look at you.
His ruby eyes — intense with focus mere moments ago — now carried something deeper, an indescribably different glow.
"How was the mission?" he asked suddenly, cutting through the tense rope that connected your gaze with his.
You blinked, lips parting as you tried to catch the breath he’d stolen before speaking. “A little rough, but nothing I can’t handle,” you replied with a cheeky smile, teasing him as you caught his subtle, but familiar worried expression.
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile — never quite — but something adjacent.
"Let’s see how much damage you did to my perfect suit," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.
"It’s my suit," you corrected.
"But I made it," he shot back, glaring.
"Well yeah, but look— it has my hero logo right here—" You pointed at the small embroidered initials of your hero name, your eyes dropping to it as if to prove your point.
But before you could say more, Katsuki hooked his hand under your chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor as he brought you closer without much effort.
His arm flexed with the motion, veins standing out from the day’s work. "I see it, dumbass. I fucking made it," he said, completely unbothered by his own boldness.
Your eyes widened until your brows reached your hair, spine straightening like you’d been caught in fraganti. Heat flooded your face rapidly. "Well, yes— but—" you stammered, throat tightening, your mind too fuzzy to continue the banter.
"Can you not fight me on everything?" He narrowed his eyes and flicked your forehead. He watched as you rubbed the spot, a small pout on your lips, before muttering. "Tch. You're such a baby."
"Excuse me?" you exclaimed, offended.
"I said you're a baby," he repeated without a care, standing up and stepping closer to inspect the suit. "Let’s get this over with."
He circled behind you as he slid on his work gloves, carefully assessing the scuffs from battle that now painted your suit. His gloved hands traced the rough patterns, making your spine readjust to feel less of it. Or maybe more.
His touch wasn’t tender, exactly, but it was grounding. There was a quiet warmth in it — one that sometimes his voice lacked or his actions required, but that always seemed to surface when he assessed his work. When he assessed you. It made you feel secure in a way nothing nor no one else did.
His voice lingered behind, asking questions about the mission and offering small reprimands about the damaged fabric. But despite the closeness, his words felt distant. How could you focus when your chest was full of this warm, fluttering feeling?
"Am I speaking to a wall?" Katsuki’s voice cut through your thoughts like a lingering echo.
"Sorry. Can you repeat the question?"
"Tch. I’m not interviewing you. Just stay still. I know that’s impossible for you, but try this once."
You smiled reluctantly and nodded once, determined to help him get this done faster.
The assessment passed quickly. His fingers checked with precision any dent, any damage that your encounter with a certain flame-related villain may have caused. And yet, that didn't stop him from continuing with his inquiries about the mission. No matter how difficult people claimed talking to Katsuki was — and you knew that firsthand — it had grown easier with time. Sometimes you even thought he enjoyed these moments.
Though that could just be your hopeful, devoted heart.
"You’re lucky these are easy fixes," he grumbled, a small frown creasing his brow as he finished.
"I wouldn’t hear the end of it if they weren’t," you teased.
For a second, a half-smile tugged at his lips, but it looked forced. Your mind rushed to make assumptions, to worry about what could possibly be the topic he wanted to talk about. Was he purposefully rushing the check-up? Was he about to deliver bad news? If it was about the two of you… what implications did that have?
"So… check-up done?" you asked, forcing a bright tone as he set his tools aside.
"Hm," he grunted in agreement, dropping heavily into his chair. But he wouldn’t look at you.
“Katsuki?”
No answer.
Just the insistent tapping of his shoe against the cold tile. Sudden, rapid, anxious.
You swallowed hard. It was strange seeing him like this. Had you done something to make him switch up?
“Katsuki… you’re scaring me. Did I do something?”
That single question made him turn.
His head whipped around to face you fully, letting you see the disbelief scaterred across his features. But those sharp red eyes weren’t guarded like usual — they were frustrated. Frustrated you'd ask something like that. And almost nervous about something else...
"The hell? No! I mean— yes," he rushed to answer, trying to wipe that saddened expression off your beautiful face, but the words came out rough, like they scraped his throat on the way up. He sighed as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight enough that his knuckles paled. "You did do something," he muttered lowly.
Your heart stuttered.
Guilt flooded your body.
He dragged a hand through his messy blond hair, making it even more disheveled. "Every damn time you walk in here with lunch, or stupid jokes, or that smile… I can’t focus. I haven’t been able to focus on anything but you for weeks... and it pisses me off."
The ends of your fingers trembled, stomach knotting painfully. "I… I could come by less if it bothers—"
"It’s not about bothering me!" The words exploded out of him, louder than he probably meant. He caught himself, jaw clenching so hard it looked like it hurt. Then, quieter — almost pained — he added, "It’s about you."
The workshop fell dead silent.
Katsuki stood up abruptly, chair scraping back. He took two steps back, stopped, and turned to face you again. His hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to grab something. The wrench. The table. You.
"I keep fixing this thing," he gestured vaguely at your suit, “keep telling you it needs adjusting, that you need different gadgets… because I can’t stand the thought of it failing you out there. Of you not coming back.” He let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh. "Me. Getting worked up over some idiot who can’t even stay still during a suit check."
You rose slowly from your chair, careful not to spook him. "Katsuki…"
"Don’t," he cut you off, but there was no bite in it. Just determination. "I’m not done."
He took a step closer.
Then another.
Until the scent of caramel, metal, and faint sweat filled your space. His eyes dropped to the small red mark he’d flicked onto your forehead earlier, then lower — to your lips — before snapping back up like he’d been burned.
"I’m not good at this shit," he muttered. "Feelings. Talking. Any of it. But I’m worse at pretending I don’t feel it anymore." His voice dropped, rough and low.
Your pulse thundered in your ears.
He reached out, hesitant for once, and his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. His touch surprisingly gentle as his calloused thumb lingered against your cheek like he was memorizing the warmth of your skin.
"I hate it," he admitted, almost whispering. "I hate how much I care if you come back in one piece. How much I think about you when you’re not here. How badly I want to tell you to stop scaring the shit out of me every mission." His forehead nearly touched yours.
"But I’m done hating it."
He swallowed hard. The war in his eyes evident — an immense amount of pride fighting against something softer, something scared.
"So here it is, dumbass." His voice cracked just slightly on the last word. "I like you. A lot. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. And if you don’t feel the same, tell me now so I can blow up this whole workshop and never speak to you again."
You stared at him — really stared — at the faint dust still smudged on his cheek, the way his shoulders were tense like he was bracing for rejection. For you to mock him for feeling something so dumb.
But you didn't.
Instead, a slow, warm smile spread across your face.
"Took you long enough," you whispered, echoing his words from earlier.
Katsuki’s eyes widened. Then narrowed. "Wha—"
You didn’t let him finish. You rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss.
For half a second, he froze in place. Until his hand slid to the back of your neck, warm and calloused, pulling you in like he’d been waiting years for permission. The kiss deepened slowly — rough, but not harsh. Like every bottled-up frustration, every worried glance, every unspoken word was pouring out at once.
You pulled back for air and he rested his forehead against yours without a second thought, unwilling to let distance re-appear. Now that he'd been close, he didn't want to fathom not spending another second in your warmth, in your softness.
"The hell was that?" he muttered, voice hoarse. But his thumb was still stroking your cheek, gentle in a way that made your chest ache.
You laughed softly, a little breathless. "That was me telling you I like you too, idiot. A lot."
His shoulders sagged with visible relief. "Tch. Could’ve said it with words instead of jumping me, dumbass."
"I figured my actions would speak louder than any words," you teased, holding onto the front of his tank top.
Katsuki’s ears burned red. He looked away, jaw tight, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in that rare, reluctant smile you’d grown addicted to.
He pulled you in again, this time wrapping both arms around your waist and lifting you just enough that your feet barely touched the floor. The second kiss was slower, more deliberate. Less like an explosion and more like a controlled burn. One of his hands splayed across your lower back, pressing you closer to the solid heat of his body. You could feel his heart hammering against yours.
When he finally set you down, he didn’t let go. Just buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in like he needed the proof that this was real.
"You’re still a pain in the ass," he grumbled against your skin, voice muffled. "But… I’m not letting you go out there without knowing someone’s got your back. Properly."
You threaded your fingers through his messy blond hair, smiling so wide it hurt. "I’d be happy to have you as support, both in and out of hero work."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes softer around the edges. "I’d be happy too..." he whispered.
nilla's note: after much procrastination, here's the second and final part of this story, enjoy my wafers. i know it may be ooc, but i wanted to make him a bit of yearner.