Testing The Waters To See If You All Would Like Some Office Au Tenya Iida Cause I Fear I May Or May Not

✮⋆˙— 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.

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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

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Thee kiddos

ANON I will get to this as soon as I can, I swear 😭 I'm in the middle of exams right now, I'm very sorry!!!!

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ — rain, rain, wash it all away.

she was right. rain did feel nice.

pairings : tsuyu a. x gn!reader

genre : fluff, hurt-comfort

warnings : swearing

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1,9k word count!

Never in Tsuyu’s life would she think she’d fall for you. Hard. A friend she held so dearly, one that she would turn to in the midst of her busy mind, one that she would cry to, laugh with, everything. And yet here she was, heart thumping harder than it’s supposed to, hands clammy and her smile felt too stiff. Suddenly, her habit of letting her hands hang down felt weird to her, and she didn’t know where to place them.

You didn’t seem to notice though, much to her relief and disappointment. 

She hated it. Hated the way she didn’t feel as loose with you anymore, the way she felt too much or even too less for you. Her usual carefree and aloofness seemed to just run away from her grasp the moment you smiled at her, or laughed, or… anything.

Tsuyu wasn’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the way you’ve always been present to lend a shoulder for her to lean to, or maybe the way you’d smile at her small mutters when she focused on a task. Maybe… maybe it had always been there. 

Maybe she just didn’t notice. 

But now that she did, it felt too much for her. She didn’t know what to do with them, so she tried to handle them herself.

To say that she was avoiding you wouldn’t be true to her, but she was. 

She stopped her small glances and snickers she’d share with you across the room every time someone said something funny, or the way she’d smack your shoulder with a giggle when you said a dirty joke.

Now you’re left wondering what you did so wrong, why she wasn’t smiling at you the same as before, why it was still easy for her to smile with people, and not you. 

You kept your smile, kept saying your small hi’s and hey’s to her, kept chiming those jokes she’d laugh about. You kept being yourself. So what was so wrong? It felt like the more you tried to talk to her about it, she always had an excuse. Always had to go somewhere, always had someone else call her away from you. 

And somehow, that someone would be something, something…Eijiro.

He’d throw that sneaky grin to her, one she’d smile back to, or maybe he’d say something—something so funny she’d laugh. 

You couldn’t help it. Eijiro’s a great guy, the boy inspired you a lot to improve yourself and to keep fighting. But lately, he just looks annoying in your eyes. And you hated feeling that way.

But when you accidentally hit Eijiro too hard on the face, and she comes running to him? 

“Shit– s-sorry Ei,” You gasped, rushing to his stumbling form. 

He grinned, waving a hand in dismissal while the other rubbed his cheek. “No, no! That was amazing, y/n!!” Eijiro laughed, giving you a thumbs up. 

“Eijiro,” Tsuyu ran, passing you from behind. “Are you okay…?” 

Oh God it was so hard for you to stay smiling and apologize. Maybe you should punch him again. 

You huffed, trying to hide it off as a small chuckle rather than a scoff. As you gave a last look to the two, you threw Eijiro a small ice pack with a strained smile before walking off to the locker room to change. 

.☘︎ ݁˖ 𓆏

“Fucking shit,” You muttered, trying to hide the venom dripping from your voice. Your hand harshly shoved your training shoes into the locker, breaths heavy, hot. You didn’t even know who you were cursing out. Not one of them was even in the wrong, not in the slightest.

“Can’t even— fucking–” 

The locker clasped, briefly trapping a small flesh of your skin, pinching it sharply. 

“Agh! Bastard—!!” You winced, sucking the finger as an attempt to comfort it. 

You huffed, kicking yourself onto the small bench in the middle of the aisle. Your heart thrummed, drumming against your chest like it shouted for itself. It ached, it hurt. Badly. Worst thing is, you can’t even do anything about it. Who were you to be jealous of someone who’s not even yours to claim?

Eijiro’s heavy steps soon came close, before a calloused hand was placed onto your shoulder. 

“You did great today, y/n. Don’t worry ‘bout punching me,” he chuckled, patting your shoulder lightly. 

“..Fuck off.” You muttered, harshly standing up to trudge toward the exit. 

He stood there, his grin frozen to confusion as his hand still hovered over where your shoulder used to be at. Bringing his hand to scratch his cheek, “...Okay, I guess..”

Your boots trudged against the concrete floors, breaths heavy and labored as you painfully tried to hide your boiling feelings, or the way your face scowled so deeply, you might need to iron it out later. 

Tsuyu’s eyes followed your form. You saw it, felt it tingling by the side of your face. You wanted to smile, to grin at her again, but you just couldn’t. It felt like climbing a mountain to smile at her. 

Okay maybe it didn’t. Not with her adorable eyes looking to you like she was always ready to listen to you, or the way her lips were always shaped into a small pout you loved so much—too much. You couldn’t stay mad, not when you hear that small ‘ribbit’ every time she says something. You just can't help but be angry at yourself.

But by Tsuyu’s eyes, it looked like you were angry at her. 

Your eyes glanced at her in a way she wasn’t used to. Not that same smile and light hearted chuckle you’d let out as you waved to her. No, they looked at her like you wanted her gone.

For a second she reached out, yet your steps were fast, angry, like you didn’t want her near you. So she stopped, letting her hand fall back to her side.

.☘︎ ݁˖ 𓆏

One night, you had enough. 

The class laughed and chattered along, giggling at the movie playing by the T.V. 

All night your eyes had only glanced to the right or at your phone, shoulders tense and jaw clenched. It’s like even your head refused to turn to the left, knowing she probably sat by him, giggling softly under her breath as he whispered something to her ear. And you couldn’t see it. Couldn’t bear to. 

So you stood up, almost too suddenly. Hanta even asked where you were going, and you muttered, “Out.” Short, simple, sharp. 

You needed it..

Needed out, some breath of fresh air. 

Needed to calm yourself down from whatever demon’s tugging on your nerves.

You hoped she noticed, hoped she didn’t. Hoped that she could at least just call out your name, hoped she just stayed silent. 

With fast, strained steps, you found yourself outside. Dark was the night, loud and silent with the rain and thunder, and no one to talk to. Your heart pounded in your chest, clawing by your chest, begging to scream out. 

“This is ridiculous.” You muttered to no one, letting the water drip from your forehead to your nose. 

“Stupid feelings—” 

Your throat felt tight, like it clenched to your neck, strangling you to coax out your cries.

“Stupid, stupid!!” 

“I hate them, I— I hate her!!!” 

For a second you felt a presence, steps stopping behind you as if hesitant to approach. 

“What…?” Tsuyu’s voice softly whimpered. The rain almost felt like it stopped, and if it didn’t, it fell silent to your ears. None of the loud pitter-pattering to the ground and the roof, the world narrowed and silenced for her. 

“Y-you didn’t… you didn’t mean that… right..?” Her eyes narrowed, searching into yours. 

A breath hitched in your lungs, refusing to come up. And your head screamed for you to say sorry. 

“Leave me alone,” Your mouth betrayed, refusing to turn and look at her. 

She mumbled a noise, like you had punched her. “N-No..”

Your head snapped to her direction, your body following suit. “What the fuck do you even want, Tsu?”

“First you avoided me for no reason, now you’re refusing to just leave me alone?” You scoffed, your face twisting to a frustrated smirk. 

The small wide eyed girl flinched, her pout turned to a small frown, as if not used to seeing you like this. Thunder clapped above the two of you, “It— it’s not like that!!” She cried out, her voice breaking with the rain.

A laugh escaped your lips, disbelieved. 

“I mean it, y/n, please!!” 

“I…I was just scared, okay..?!”

“Scared..?” You echoed, eyebrows stitching together closer. “Scared?!” So did your steps. Your finger pointed to her, holding back the venom you were dripping with. “You pushed me away!! And what?”

“All for a boy?!” You scoffed again, pushing her shoulder. “I thought you were better than that, Tsu!!”

“It’s not about Eijiro!!!” She shouted, her head ducked down, rain dripping from her bangs, her fists clenched so tight to her sides they trembled.

“I don’t like him like that, o-okay?! I like…”

“I like you…”

Almost a whisper.

Just enough as a whimper. 

The rain silenced again. Your eyes refuse to look at anything, not even acknowledging the water dripping from your lashes into your eyes, they only narrowed down to her. 

Her. Clenching herself by her arms, shivering from the cold, water glistened her skin as it gleamed softly under the floodlights. Her dark green hair slick to her face, her small shoulders shaking softly with each and every sob she held back. Her.

Sobbing. For you.

Because of you. 

And your mind is alarmed again, screaming the same tune, telling you to apologize. 

“I.. I was scared, okay..?” Tsuyu croaked, her small, shrill voice breaking more and more. “I was scared you’ll… push me away… s-so—”

“..So you pushed me away first?” You cut, not with a shout, no. A murmur. Small, hesitant, hurt.

With reluctance, she nodded, “I-I’m sorry.. I.. I was just..”

You stayed silent. Not because you didn’t know what to say, but the fact she was so clueless. Clueless that you like her back just as much, if not more. 

You’d do anything just to hear her say she liked you. 

“I like you too.” You mumbled, sounding more like a grumble. “I like you too, Tsu.” Just in case she didn’t hear it. 

“H-huh..?” 

“..I like you, ugh.. do I have to keep saying it?” You complained, throwing your head to the side. 

And she giggled. That sweet little giggle you love so much, finally landing in your ears, for you to hear. Not Eijiro, not anyone, she giggled because of you once more. “Y-you do..?”

“Yeeess,” You sighed, combing your hair back in frustration, trying your hardest to hide the warm tingling feeling creeping up your neck. Your eyes glanced at her, covering her mouth as she giggled softly, the sound merging with the rain’s melody. God, all you could do was smile. As much as you refused to, your lips quirked up, smiling softly at her giggles. 

“Happy now?” You grinned sheepishly, kicking the rocks beneath your feet.

“Mhm,” She smiled, stepping closer. Her hands clasped behind her as she did, eyeing you curiously from below. 

Your eyes found her form once more, smiling at you as she stepped closer. Suddenly the rain fell warm on your cheeks, cold on your clammy hands.

With a puff of air, you pulled her close, hands wrapping by her shoulders and her waist. 

Rainy days have always been Tsuyu’s favorite. 

It may be yours too, now.

dworkism | do not repost!

taglist : @bloomstream @deepinthegroves @insomniatears

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tell me why I don't like katsuki that much (like im not that fond of him....yk??)

but I ABSOLUTELY LOVE @missdynamighttt 's SHORT FLUFFY KATSUKI FICS :((((

he's so cute there like uwu 😭

SAYS UUUU WHO IS SO CREATIVE EVERY TIME U POST 😔😔💕💕💕 thank you bloom you are such an inpiration 🫶🫶🫶

hi bloom i js wanna say thank you for always leaving such encouraging comments and words on everything i post 😭😭😭😭 it means a lot to me 😔💕💕💕

hii juno i literally love all of ur works. your writing style is beautifully balanced and fun n u eat down everytime mwah

pls never stop posting or i’ll actually die

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

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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

helow! my name is juno, i am currently seventeen years old and i like hanta sero... a lot. i enjoy writing fluff and attempting angst, I usually write fem!reader, or gn!reader.

I will use my platform for sfw content only! no smut, like.. ever! >:/

...oh and i also post very inconsistently :P

feel free to drop by a request whenever, for whoever! and most importantly, have a greeeaatt day!

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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.”