I Made This In Like 3 Seconds Do You Like It

I do NAWT appreciate u enough omg omg I love u I love ur writing

let’s start appreciating each other!!

you, me, a week long camping trip where we discover the deepest inner secrets of ourselves … 🚬

totally causal btw ^^

im playing and having fuunnnn

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!

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 :"""

Dekusquad but as what I imagine them to have on their keys :)

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

EAT MY DUST .ᐟ

tokyo is a bustling, sprawling city, containing passions and hatreds and anything—everything—alike. it just so happens that F1 driver hajime iwaizumi and you, actress Y/N L/N, happen to cross paths. a one-off coincidence at first, but it proves to be more significant when you are plagued by spirally rumours and the curse of the internet.

smau & written hybrid series feat. h.iwaizumi

contents fame au, f1 driver iwaizumi, actress reader, fem reader, iwaizumi is a gentleman but wow he needs to bite his tongue sometimes, instigator oikawa, likely substance usage, crude humour and language, tba . . .

status upcoming — second in line to my ongoing series taglist open (0/50)

introductions supa fast, too furious . . . extras united

take one : tba . . . take two : tba . . . take three : tba

extras tba . . .

a fushiguruuzzzz™ film. copying, sharing, etc without permission will result in the haunting of your bloodline.

mitski is sooo coool but i literally have to avoid listening to her for my mental health like i CANT listen to sad music LMAOOO

but i’d suggest if you want to, it’s my favoritee song by her. eighteen, ever seen, sunny day, apple cider is a popular one. also she did a collab w laufey it’s called a night to remember and it’s so underrated </3

what is ur favorite beabadobee song

hashtag bea ba do bee

HASHTAG BEABADOBEE omg i dont listen to her that much lowkey like i know a few songs but real man has been stuck in my head would you hold it down and take it if i gave you a chanceeee lowk need beabadobee inspired fics BUR im more of a mitski girly :3 WBU THO DO U HAVE SING RECS FROM BEABADOBEE

contains: swearing, alcohol use word count: 3.3k

"get up."

touya groaned. it took him a couple of seconds, but when he finally came to he was instantly hit with a splitting headache. touya moved to bring a cooling hand to his forehead only to find that he could only feel a heavy tingling sensation in his arms— and in his hands and in his legs. all the telltale signs of a hangover— at least his typical (extreme) version of one. he even had tomura on his ass, all the boxes on the ‘i got totally wasted last night’ checklist were ticked off.  

“wake up.” 

touya heard a small thunk from somewhere nearby— probably tomura kicking something —and finally decided that it was time to blink his eyes open. 

immediately, he knew exactly where he was. touya could distinguish the coarse texture from the beat-up seven-year-old couch lying in the LOV staff room any day. the mixed smell of a dewy morning breeze and the lingering scent of touya's signature cigarette brand sent a pumping to his blood that couldn’t be ignored.  he grinned and lifted himself so he was resting back on his elbows, head tilted up in tomura's direction. “hey birdie.” 

tomura sucked in a breath through his teeth and spun around, going right back to sit at his desk. touya watched his blue-haired roommate, observing the way tomura put his glasses on before inevitably gluing his eyes onto his computer screen. tomura looked tired to say the least; his clothes were disheveled and his hair was a mess— as if he had been up all night.  “you went looking for me?” touya's tone was cocky. he reached for the water bottle beside him, the water bottle that somehow always ended up by his side after a long night. he never asked about it— the fear of a petty tomura deciding to take away his one princess privilege steering his decision.

but when tomura scoffed out a small, “no,” touya's grin faltered. “you were outside.”

touya took a sip of the room-temperature water, curious eyes on tomura. “outside?” 

“yeah.” tomura replied as he opened a drawer from his desk and skimmed through some documents. “wasted to shit asleep on the bench.” touya brows furrowed momentarily, attempting to skim through his drunken memories of last night. before touya could properly reconnect them, tomura spoke again. “you didn’t walk here?” tomura's red eyes met touya's blue ones, an intrigued expression shining through the lenses of his glasses. 

“shit, i don’t remember.” touya gained the courage to push past the tingling and move, swinging his legs off the couch. his boots hit the wooden floor beneath him as he gave a half-shrug. 

“you don’t remember?” tomura repeated, sounding annoyed. “where’d you even go?”

touya leaned back into the mustard-stained couch, hands pressing against its backboard. “that new bar.” his head fell back, smile pointed up to the room's ceiling. “moonlight.” the words fluttered off his tongue, the legacy of moonlight clear in his mind. 

“what the fuck!?” tomura’s chair let out a squeaky whine at its sudden movement. he had stopped typing his laptop, attention fully on touya.  "really?!"

“yep.” touya expressed with a pop of his mouth. “and i know their secret.” he said, sounding most obviously pleased with himself. it was the one thing touya had managed to remember from last night— he recalled repeating it out loud to himself for that exact reason. “young hires.”

[ ELEVEN HOURS EARLIER ]

keigo left three hours ago and you were still trying to convince yourself that you could last the final two hours of your shift on your own. 

the sky had grown dark, a lapis blue painting a beautiful backdrop for the lamp-lit city. the cool contrast created an orange-tinted scene inside of midnight. the constant clinking of beer glasses and clicking of heels against the bar floor had left a distant ringing in your ear— along with keigo's words about the nearby job opportunity. the rag in your hand scrubbed up against the surface of the wooden counter as you cleaned up a spill in thought. you were so deep in it that you almost didn’t hear a voice of question coming from beside you.

“excuse me. you— yeah you!” the voice gradually grew within range. you blinked out of your daze and turned your head in the customer's direction. the voice had come from a man who looked to be in his mid-30s and held a strong glare. 

“sorry, sir,” you muttered, tucking the rag under the counter and placing both your hands on the table, steady and attentive . “what would you like to drink tonight?”

“whiskey. neat.” he gruffed, resting his arm up against the bar's pillar.

you stopped a displeased expression from planting onto your face and forced a tight smile. “right up.” you reached for a glass on the shelf— along with the man's desired drink of choice —and began to pour. as you did, you were able to examine the customer. 

he was leaned right up against the counter, flannel jacket resting on the hardwood counter. he was a big guy with a big hat— the type of hat that reminded you of old western films. his bread wasn’t too long or bushy— it was just enough to frame his face in the right places, making him appear well-aged and rugged. using these observations, you put together that this man was from the countryside— and that’s before you accounted for his dirty hands, his worn jeans, and his manners. 

you placed the drink in front of the man and gave him a polite nod, hoping that would be enough to get him to go and bother someone else. but of course, it wasn’t. 

“hey.” he tipped his head a bit closer in your direction, fingers tapping along the rim of his freshly poured glass of whiskey. you gritted your teeth, mostly to mentally prepare yourself— another asshole encounter at work was the last thing you needed right now. the man then grinned, a large yet playful one. “this is a pretty nice city dontcha think?”

your eyes narrowed in suspicion. this could’ve been worse, way worse. 

“yeah, it is,” you replied matter-of-factly. you’ve been living in orion for just over three years now. and though you didn’t necessarily move here for the sights, you couldn’t deny that the town was beautiful.

what you liked about orion was it has a sense of community— and security. you’ve gotten used to the sound of kids calling to their friends in the streets while parents frantically chase them down. the song that slipped between your neighbors' windchimes remain a familiar melody in your mind. there was always some type of event, or function, or party. you liked it. it kept you, and everyone else, busy. distracted. 

the bearded man chuckled. he took a sip of the drink— face showing no reaction to the alcohol—before saying, “i’m actually new around these parts.” you knew he was lying. you’ve caught sight of him throwing up behind the bar twice within the three weeks. he had a reputation for those types of things.

what you hadn’t expected was for him to come to you tonight. he maintained a mindful eye on you, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “think i need someone to show me around the place— someone pretty like you.” he voiced. his lips curled up into a smile; one that showed he was confident that he’d win a date with you.  

you thought carefully, picking a response that would be respectful for an employee to use. “sorry, i really can’t. work has me really busy right now.” your voice tipped higher out of habit. you hoped your tone was clear enough. 

your hopes were quick to be crushed. 

the man winked and went on to declare, “you wouldn’t have to work with a guy like me around.” he flipped the bottom of his patterned sleeve up, leaving the material bunched up his biceps as he shamelessly flexed his muscles to you. it was clear to you now how drunk the man was. you could see it in the way his smile hung bright and his eyes sparkled like the wish from a million suns. 

you didn’t even have time to react before a separate voice got added to the equation. another man, a younger one who seemed to be in his mid-20s, walked up to your section of the bar. 

“can you fight with those things?” the demeanor of the dark-haired man was intimidating alone, in addition to his alternate style of clothing and his sharp facial expression, he came off as different. the lanky man hovered over the wannabe cowboy, shadowing him. “because these look pretty—“ the younger man’s hand slipped out from his leather jacket and cupped over the older man’s flexing muscle. “fake.” 

“hey— hey don’t touch me you goth— emo freak!” the countryman jolted out from under the latter's touch before he could make any lasting contact. “what the fuck is wrong with you!” he shot his arms up in complaint. "werido." he waved his middle finger to the man as he continued to back onto the crowded dance floor. 

the second man remained stoic as he watched the first walk away. “fucking idoit. i’m not even close to being gothic.” he scoffed as his arms crossed over his chest. the sway in his movement told you that this customer wasn't necessarily sober either.

“another jerk.” you muttered, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could stop them. you didn’t want to complain, considering that this guy just helped get that creep away from you, but this was turning into a stereotypical ‘the good guy is actually a bad guy’ plot twist, and you weren’t in the mood to get kidnapped tonight. 

a hard exhale fell from the younger man’s mouth, “what was that?” he sounded amused like he wasn’t offended that you just insulted him, but he sounded intrigued.

you felt a wave of hot shutter through your body, cheeks flaring up specifically. your face scrunched up, shoulders raising and eyes widening as you silently cursed the way your body reacted to embarrassment. then again, some things never change. “nothing.” you said, just as quietly as you said your last sentence. your hand urgently tapped for the forgotten rag under the counter to no avail. 

you held eye contact with the man until his crystal-lit orbs suddenly flagged down. his forehead fell to his forearm, which rested on the bar's marble counter, and his shoulders began to shake as he hickered out a string of loud laughs. 

you were baffled. 

“they really hired a kid to work here?” the man giggled.

“actually, i’m—“ 

“so, this is what midnight's been doing.” his eyes were back up on you now, gaze observing as his hair folded out of its side part and in front of his face. he was quick to swipe his hair back up with his galaxy-toned hand. 

“sorry?” 

the man just barely stumbled back, gripping the back of the bar chair before he could be considered a threat. he settled himself down on the chair. his body leaning against the bar's wooden structure, the same way the cowboy had done a moment ago. but this time it felt separate— for so many reasons you couldn’t narrow it down to just one. 

he looked at you when he answered, pupils dilated. “hiring college kids.” his eyes flickered close for a moment like he was making a mental note to remember his observation. 

you bit your bottom lip. you can’t deny it because it’s true, you are a college student. but the way he said it made it seemproblematic. before you could tap into that, you felt that something was off— you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

you stole a glance and to your concern, a pair of eyes were focused on you from the threshold of the staff room. instinctively, your body straightened up. your focus decreased on entertaining the customer and increased on actually doing your job. 

unsure if you were in earshot, you spoke again, calculated. “midnight is a good place.” you said. your fingers finally found the rag under the counter and your hands got back into the routine of wiping the counter, really trying to sell the ‘i’m too busy working to talk’ act… again. 

“yeah?” the man dabbled, like he was quickly losing interest in the conversation. but he went on, “what makes it so special then?”

it was such a strange question, but you’ve heard stranger before. “they have a cool looking website…?” 

it was the first thing that came to mind. 

the man laughed, but it wasn’t as loud and amused as before, just convinced. he slapped a hand on the table, using it as his pillar of support as he staggered back up into a standing position. you could hear him whispering something about “technology” and “young hires” as he stumbled off. 

just one strange interaction after another. 

ninety laboring minutes later you’re finally on your way home. on a breezy, autumn day like this one you found yourself extra appreciative of the close distance of your apartment. you knew that your roommate, rumi, was probably awake. not because she was waiting for you, but because she’s a biology major and you’ve come to learn they never sleep. 

still, on nights when you were the only one closing or had to run a quick errand before going home, rumi would call you to ensure your safety— and threaten to call the police to escort you if you didn’t get home soon. 

tonight ended up being was one of those nights. 

you had just turned the corner right around midnight’s back alley when you heard a sound. what started as a small cough quickly turned into hacking coughs and eventually the sound of splatters of vomit hitting the ground. you, silently, peaked around the corner of the alley. 

hunched over in the l-shaped corner behind the dumpster was your “hero” from earlier. 

he looked more battered down now, knees quivering underneath his weight as he pressed his head up against the rugged brick wall. your feet lead you closer. as you appporached, you could see how his dark hair adhered damply around the nape of his neck and how desperately his hands clung onto the wall. 

“oh my god, you’re the guy from earlier.” you blurted out loud, mostly to verbally confirm it to yourself. the guy's head just lolled against the brick wall, tipping down as he threw up another liter of liquor onto the pavement. your face grimaced as you glanced away. “you’re really drunk.” you commented, fingers anxiously fiddling at your sides. 

“no fucking duh.” the man spat. he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his leather jacket and then waved a flappy hand in your direction. “beat it.” he deadpanned, scratchy voice sending a chill up your spine. 

your mind now rushed with questions on whether you should leave him or not. you considered the factors. pro: he did save you from a potential creep. con: his attitude is intangibly rotten.

but there must be a reason behind it, right? like maybe he had a bad day— a lot of bar attendees do. the point was, even though you didn't know him, he did seem to have good intentions. 

you took a step toward him, “i’m gonna—“

“don’t.” his voice snapped into a growl, low and brisk, though you remained calm. you could see him peeking at you from under his arm, checking to see if you had left or not. searching like he had already anticipated you to be long gone.

when his gaze met yours— seeing you still in your work clothes, clearly very exhausted from your long trip, and still willing to help him —he couldn’t do anything else but glance away. 

slowly, you put a hand out. you could hear murmurs of keigo's voice in your head saying that you were “being too nice.” you shook his words off of your mind and pushed forward. “i’ll just walk you down the block.” you stepped under his propped up arm, swiftly redirecting his weight so he was leaned up against your left shoulder and had his arm wrapped around your right shoulder. you heard his breath hitch as you altered his position. he didn’t protest, but rather flowed with your direction.

you took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself. “nightlife is.. brighter down there. so you can find your way home by yourself.” you took a step forward, delicately nudging his side. he took the physical indication and moved forward, taking a slow, but sure step. you let out another slow breath; most times your last-minute plans didn’t work well so you you were satisfied.

a couple dozen steps later the young man spoke— well slurred —“thought all your bougie alcohol was fake.” he tone wasn’t confident like the words he had said weren’t originally his. he swayed a bit, the scent of an indistinguishable amount of various alcohols spiking through your nose. “stupid trust fund kid company.” he grumbled.

you didn’t blame him for the way he thought. midnight's popularity had shot up out of nowhere just a couple of weeks ago. you heard that they were doing so well in the market that other smaller businesses were shutting down because of it down. at the time you didn’t think much of it. you didn’t know that people were genuinely upset about it. 

after a long hushed walk in the eerie wind, you stepped upon the brightly lit street of the plaza. thought most the shops on this side of town consisted of sketchy dispensaries and personal businesses, it was still safer than leaving him behind the alley of a well-known bar with a high-kept reputation. 

you led him to one of the benches facing the oversight of city buildings. the sky twinkled in each of the visible window's reflection, sparkles jumping and dancing across city rooftops. when you let go of the man's weight, he immediately melted into the bench below him. you huffed out a strangled breath, swinging back on to dust your hands off. you could hear club music threatening to spill out of a building across the street from where you stood. you placed your hands on your hips and countered your breathing, slowing it down as a smile crept onto your face. 

the man sighed from his spot on the bench, catching your attention. “ya' ever looked at the sky?” the question was half asked, like it wasn’t even meant to be answered by you. you turned to him and sure enough, he was staring at the night sky, eyes hazy enough to certify him as dreaming. 

out of curiosity, you turn to the sky. orion had the type of beauty that you couldn’t describe. it was the type of city you’d see pictures of on the front of postcards, painted and perfect— perfectly feel good. 

you do look at the sky when you have time, which isn’t often. it’s nice to wish on the stars and share sprinkled false hope with other people across the world. you always wished for one day to feel exciting the way you were promised every day should feel. 

another comment cut you out of your tangled mind. “next meteor shower is march thirteenth.” the man whispered into the wind. you could see it in his eyes that his message wasn’t necessarily said to inform you but because he needed to say it—  he needed to tell someone. 

a vibrating sound coming from your pocket stopped you from being able to reply to the man's drunken speech. you pulled your phone out and read the contact name, rumi.

for her to be calling it must be super late. you stuffed your phone back into your pocket, “i’m sorry but i have to go!” you told the man frantically. his head just tilted more towards the sky, fully consumed in its beauty, already acting like you were gone. “well, get home safe!” you gave an awkward wave to him— well his back —as you skipped into a jog, running back home.

to your luck, the days only got more interesting.

previous masterlist next

“it’s good in the dark, good in the dark” | LCD soundsystem

comment to be added to current taglist: @peachesvault @tlissablr @evilari111

hi isa it’s me ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ

name: bloom

hobbies/special interests: i like writing obviouslyyy. i love movies and indie pop music. i like artsy stuff: crocheting, pinterest boards, films.

i’d consider myself to be a pretty outgoing person! i like to talk a lot with others and learn new things. i try my best to be super nice and considerate too.

love languages you have / want your match-up to have: quailty time + words of affirmation

traits you like your lovers to have: nice and funny. that’s all i ask.

your fav mha character: rn it’s eijiro :P

favorite gifts to receive: chocolate !!

hi wifey <3

ᯓᡣ𐭩 LOVE IS IN THE AIR mha v-day match-up event CLOSED

YOUR MATCH IS... DENKI KAMINARI ᡣ𐭩 enjoy !

pulled up with the biggest box of an assortment of different chocolates and multiple new bundles of yarn + new crochet hooks

he also made you a pinterest board that he thought described your personality the best

firstly, he wanted to take you out to one of your favorite places - the movie theater

made sure to sneak in a bag with candy because prices are going UPPP baby

still bought a large bucket of popcorn and soda

he was definitely talking the whole film and commenting on random stuff

idc what y'all say he IS the loudest person in the theater

"this bitch is so stupid"

"denki you literally can't say anything"

"ok but at least i'm funny"

but honestly, it was a little justified because the movie was kind of bad but in a funny way, so it just gave you a reason to absolutely clown on it afterwards

when you finished, he took you to a scenic dinner that overlooked most of the city

"wow denki, look at the view!"

yk his ass would look at you and say "yeah, I know... it's beautiful"

slid his card to the waiter before the check came so you could leave anytime because he thought it "seemed cool"

later, he took you to his penthouse and MAY have freaked it after

©juviabrainrot - please do not copy/repost any of my work on any platform <3

my little things