Hanta Sero X Reader - Blog Posts
⋆｡°✩ "tf do you want?" where a prank goes wrong (right...?)
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Katsuki Bakugou, Denki Kaminari, Ejirou Kirishima, Izuku Midoriya, Hanta Sero
☆ K. Bakugou
☆ D. Kaminari
☆ E. Kirishima
☆ I. Midoriya
☆ H. Sero
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ hope you enjoyed ✰ .ᐟ
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
༄.° — when you’re sober.
pairings : hanta s. x gn!reader
warnings : use of drugs, swearing, no gender mentioned but reader is called pretty
➤ masterlist!
You can’t really remember what started your friendship with Hanta. It was a haze, an echo of memories, blurring together. But all you know is that nowadays, you’d lie around his apartment doing whatever. Sometimes it was playing stupid games on his console, reading his comics, or cooking together, or gossiping, anything. And you fell comfortable with it all, the small routine you would do together. You even bought a new toothbrush just to leave at his place in case your work caught you too late into the night, and the road just felt too scary to drive through alone.
“It’s alright sweets, m’ always happy for a company.” He said that time, the first time you called him nervously to ask if it was okay to crash by his place. The sultry, smooth tone of his voice had always seeped through, lazy and giggly. Classically Hanta—always sounding high even when he wasn’t.
It was another one of those nights, you had only gotten off work at around midnight, and the thought of driving all the way back to your own place felt like such a drag. Hanta’s apartment was just a few blocks away. The day felt like hell anyway, you needed some form of entertainment. Your finger went autopilot as you scrolled through your contacts, immediately knowing where to stop at tap at his number.
Beeeep… beeeep… Then a click. A small shuffling sound was heard before Hanta’s grinning voice was heard.
“Yeess, you can crash at my plaacee,” He answered immediately, knowing what your question was going to be. He chuckled before you heard him inhale, a small crackle of fire heard by the side.
You laughed, already packing your things into your bag, zipping up your laptop in its small sleeve. "Thanks, Han."
Exhale.. “Can you grab somethin’ for me though?”
“Mhm? From the grocery store?”
“Uhuh, just some milk, if ya don’t mind.”
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
The small apartment studio now ghosted with smokes from the small roll of paper on Hanta’s hand, flowing the grey-ish fog like river through a forest, while you busied yourself with a cup of coffee by his counter, the small metal spoon clinking to the sides of the glass as you stirred in your sugar, your mouth grumbling about your hell of a day.
“And then he yelled at me! In front of everyone!!” You exclaimed, disbelief in your voice as you looked over to him.
“Dickhead,” He giggled, taking another drag before blowing a thick smoke to the air. “Shoulda slapped him right then and there.”
You plopped down next to him on the couch, placing your coffee down before you huffed as you crossed your arms to your chest, throwing yourself back to the plush backrest of his couch.
You groaned, shoulders tense. “I did everything he asked for, and he just— ugh!!” You threw your hands up, running them up your face as if that could clear your head.
Hanta’s chuckle sounded low. “Here,” His voice softly offered, nudging his hand gently to your cheek to offer you his half-smoked joint. His weed-filled smile now turned to something soft, sympathetic, almost sorry for your state.
“M’ not in the mood, Han.” You rejected, almost sounding like a low whine as you gently pushed his hand away as you leaned to his shoulder.
“Aw,” He huffed, that stupid smile not leaving his face as he pulled the joint away.
The day’s haste caught up to you, the frustration, exhaustion, stress, yanked you by the hair, prickling tears to your eyes. And you could only grunted in anger to stop it from flowing down your cheeks.
You choked in a sob, groaning in frustration. “Fuck, why am I—crying?”
Before you could protest, his thin hands wrapped by the other side of your shoulder, softly pulling you into his embrace as he tutted gently. “It’s okay to cry, hm?” He lazily assured, a small grin gracing his lips as his hand traced small circles on the small of your back. “Your boss's a shitload, y/n.” Hanta’s words slurred, a small hum slipping in between his words as he struggled to form coherent thoughts. “You're too pretty to be sad about him,”
Then he paused, the air only filled with your soft sniffles and his small breaths. His mind a haze, and what he thought he said in his mind suddenly slipped out of his mouth.
“Too pretty, too good, too… everything…”
You looked up, hands softly wiping your slight tears as you searched for his eyes between his guilty grin and weed and smoke reeked breath.
“You’re everything, darling..” He giggled, softly brushing the back of his finger to your cheek.
A smile graced your lips, and you slowly pulled away from his embrace, studying his face from afar.
Silence fell upon you two, just the small sounds of cars honking outside and the fan from his bathroom whirring. Then you scoffed in amusement, “You’re so high right now” Words you said, with a chuckle.
His smile slowly faded as the words echoed in his mind, blurring to the sensation in his head. He quickly shook his head, “No, m’ not…” While smoke slightly puffed out of his mouth. His hands quickly placed the small rolled up paper, still oozing out smoke from its end. “Bein’ high’s one thing, but m’ being honest, sweets” He slurred, begging softly as he reached his hand to yours.
His hand graced yours, as you looked up to his eyes again, staring back at you were his dark, half lidded, slightly bloodshot eyes. And you couldn’t bring yourself to believe. It’s already three years since you've known him, and he’s shown you too well that he had a silver tongue.
“Yeah?” You asked. “The same words you said to–maybe… five? Other people, hm?” Leaning your head slightly to the side.
Hanta’s brows furrowed—confused. His elbows moved to struggle and support him from the couch.
He stammered a few vowels before slowly rubbing his hazy eyes to look at you again. “No, no…” He waved his hand lazily, letting it drop to his lap. The other supported his seemingly heavy head, swaying slightly from side to side. “Just to you, sweets… m’ being honest here…” He continued, rasp and croak in his tone as he tried to reach for your hand again.
You sighed, reaching for the-now-cold-cup of coffee. A small sip brought coarse and sweetness to your tongue. “Really?” You glanced at him, his form still slowly reaching for your hand as he nodded, tugging on your arm again to pull you into his embrace.
“Of course really,” His smile returned slightly, leaning his chin to your shoulder. His hand slowly snaked beneath your arm. “Always did.” He said those two words with hesitance, volume smaller than usually. He slowly buried his face to the small curve between your neck and shoulder, his breath fanned through the thin material of your shirt. And you scoffed.
“You’re just high.”
He chuckled lazily. “Maybe,”
“But it’s still honest, y/n.” That sounded ridiculous to you, somehow.
He fell silent again, and the small whir of the wind dancing through the open window filled the room again. His breath continued to gently greet your skin, and your finger absent-mindedly rubbed the body of your coffee cup.
You cleared your throat, “...You’ll forget this tomorrow.” You softly mumbled, standing up to collect your bag.
Hanta's grin stayed there for a moment longer before he realized what you were doing. Then his mind scattered, he reached out to you, stumbling over his own feet as he stood up. “N-no, no,”
His hand reached to you slowly, eyes hazy and drifting from side to side.
“Y/n, wait..” his voice came out weaker than how he wanted it to be, his vision is mixing everything up and God if he can get the weed out of his system right now, he’ll do it.
“M’ being honest, sweets, truth,” He reached out, supporting himself to the wall as he tried to register his surroundings. Your form fell clear upon his eyes, and he could only attempt to reach for your wrist. “L-listen…”
You wrapped up the last of your things into your bag with a ziip! Before looking back at him, messy and high, half lidded and bloodshot. You grimaced. Never had his high-thoughts made you this… sad? Hesitant? Hopeful?
“I’ll listen when you’re sober, Han” You muttered, walking to the door.
“But I’m bein’ honest, y/n, please…”
“I just… I can’t say it… when I’m sober please… listen,”
clack.
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
You’re met with the same familiar—almost sickening sight of your computer in front of you. Your cubicle is a cluttered mess of papers and sticky notes, it’s almost lunch, and not once have you seen a text notification other than from your boss. Not that you were expecting a text from anyone… right?
And the day went on just like that, just like any other day. You find yourself having to do overtime again. As you finished the last sentences of the document, you glanced at your phone, it was midnight again. God, the road to your house was too far to drag yourself through, but you just couldn’t.
You just couldn’t open up that contact card to press the phone button, and ask if you could crash at his place. You can’t, and you won’t.
So you switched off the computer, rushingly picked up your earphones, your phone, and grabbed your car key before turning to the elevator, marching your way out of the empty office.
As the elevator dinged, you stepped inside. With doubt—and hope, you checked your phone again. A small voice hoped he had called, or at least texted you. But he didn’t. You scoffed, “So he was just high.”
The familiar lobby of the building greeted you again as you stepped out of the elevator, slowly walking towards the glass doors as you said your goodbyes to the security guards there. With a huff, your hand pushed the glass door, the midnight air greeting your face. Tears pricked by your eyes, not from the cold, you couldn’t quite place why, but you felt like crying.
You felt like crying because today was so tiring, because you have to drive home alone,
...because he said those things while being high, and decided not to say anything the next day.
“Stupid Hanta with his stupid fucking weed, making me hope for—”
The soft crack of concrete broke you out of your sobs, you turned to your right.
And there he stood.
His stupid grin staring back at you as he swayed back and forth on his feet, his hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie. He cleared his throat, a bit louder than he had to as he walked slowly, closer to you now.
“...M’ sorry, pretty” He softly spoke, his hand emerging slowly from his pocket to softly brush away the hair on your face, his thumb wiping your tear hesitantly.
You flinched slightly from his touch, tearing your face away, making him stare at your back. “Do you even know what you’re sorry for, Han?”
A small moment of silence fell, broken only by the soft winds swooshing in your ear and the small crickets of the night.
You huffed, exactly. He forgot. So you opened your mouth to say—
“For… saying those things,” He caught before you.
“...While I’m high,” He stuttered, the sound of the concrete cracking again beneath his feet as he swayed back and forth again. And that caught you silent. He remembered.
“I-I…I’m sorry,”
He walked closer, the heat of his body slowly taunting upon your back. “Sorry for… not texting you all day,”
“I was… nervous, sweets.” He admits—almost shyly. Biting his lip in hesitation before he gently pulled your shoulder, making you turn and look at him.
“...I was scared you’d… laugh at me,” He said, his eyes drifting to the ground before muttering, “Or somethin’..”
With a soft tug, he pulled you close, his hand finding his way to your waist, the warmth of his hands contrasting the cold night. “But I mean… everything that I said, y/n, truth.” Tender was his voice, soft and gentle as his finger slowly tilted your chin up to search upon his eyes. It felt…real now. His eyes clear as day and dark as night at the same time, his voice hoarse and low, almost desperate.
He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes as if he’s preparing for something, “I mean it when I said you’re pretty, when I said you’re too good, too kind,”
“...Fuck, y/n, I mean it when I said you’re everything to me.”
And silence fell again, you couldn’t wipe away the disbelief written, no, painted all over your face. Your mouth parted open, closing again, opening—say something!
So you decided that words weren’t your answer.
His world fell still when your hand slowly pulled his face close, his lips brushing upon yours before you spoke softly, “...That was all I wanted to hear, Han.” Last words he heard before he pushed himself to you, gently basking in the warmth of your lips upon his. He gently pulled you flush against him, sighing softly against your lips, he smiled. “Took you long enough,”
You smiled, hands finding his hoodie to grip it, pulling him closer to you to kiss him again.
“Shut up,” You giggled, finally pulling away shyly as you hid your eyes from him.
Then he grinned, gently pulling your face to look at him again. “My place, hm?” He smiles, his thumb tracing your cheek softly, wiping the tear that stuck to your face from earlier.
“Gotta make it up for not callin’ you, hm?” That stupid grin was back, laced with something else, the cherry on top? winking at you.
A giggle was all you managed, nodding shyly.
He squeezed your waist just a little, snatching the car key from your hand before leading you to your car. “After you, sweets.” He ushered, opening the passenger seat. You obliged, looking back to him with a small smile and confusion lacing your eyes just slightly.
“Not gonna let you drive back,"
"Now that you’re mine, gotta treat you right, hm?”
dworkism | do not repost!
a/n: hihihihi sorry if this was kinda fast paced :)))
➤ masterlist!
♬⋆.˚ — happy birthday, hanta.
pairings : hanta s. x gn!reader
warnings : angst (i'm bad at making people cry tho), death, injuries, blood, swearing, usage of y/n
➤ masterlist!
The air was thick with dust, your blood’s metallic and salty smell panged through your throat as you coughed, spluttering blood forward. Your eyes drift slowly from side to side, ruins surrounding you. Slowly, the pain in your stomach made you glance there, examining the ugly stab wound with a piece of metal sticking out from it. You winced, whimpered as you shifted slowly to sit comfortably on the concrete surface, as your ears slowly picked up noise, grunts, shouts, and distant booms, there was a voice calling out your name.
“y/n!!” The voice, you knew all too well. That light, slightly shrill voice. The birthday boy, Hanta Sero.
Your head turns to his voice, spotting him running to you, his visor already broken, revealing half of his worried face. “Hanta..” You managed, weakly calling out to him as he crouched down to you.
“Oh God… crap, crap, crap... y/n…” He muttered, his hand hovering over the metal sticking out of your stomach, blood dripping from it ever so slowly. “T-tell me you’re fine, please.” His eyes darted to your face, your pale, dusty face before picking you up slowly in his arms, letting your legs hang low as he stood up slowly. His arms trembled, looking at you like your limbs were made of glass. Hanta cursed under his breath, repeating profanities as he saw just how badly injured you were. Despite his worried face, his pinched eyebrows, his eyes looking like he hasn’t slept in years, you smiled, looking at him with half-lidded eyes.
“It’s your..birth…day..today”
His worry quickly turned to confusion before a small sheepish smile creeped up his lips. “Guess it is..” Yet the tone of panic never left his voice. You could feel him moving, walking as he looked around, scanning the area for help. Your weight would slightly bounce up and down as he picked up his pace, his breath still ragged and slightly labored. “Happy.. birthday… Hanta” You chuckled, instantly grimacing from the pain and gurgling from the blood lingering by your throat.
“Stop talking, idiot…” His voice strained, a slight tremble came as he felt the tears threatening to charge down his face.
Deep down, the fear was getting to you. That feeling of slowly slipping away from reality. The feeling that you might be dying. It had always been present, but right now, it just feels so much stronger. But you set that aside, let’s just hope a little bit for now. Perhaps… Miracles happen?
“What do you… want for your… birthday, Han…?” You asked pathetically, between gasps and coughs. He looks down to you, his steps not slowing down, still desperately trying to get a view of some sort, some form of help.
“I-... I don’t– I don’t know, damn it!” He panted, frantic. “Can you not, right now–?!” His voice cracked as he complained. “Where are the medics?!”
Silence filled the air, only his heavy steps and the gravel cracking under his boots. For a good few seconds, you could hear his heavy breaths, his winces of slight pain, and your own before he finally spoke up, “I..”
“I wanted to… take you on a date.” He confessed, looking down to you, smiling wearily. “...for this birthday.”
You could only smile back, sighing at his simple request as your hand went next to your head, squeezing his shoulder, giving an empty assurance. “...I’ll… try to… make that happen.”
Hanta could only nod, forcing a grin as he picked up his pace, shouting to the distance for someone, anyone to help. His arms tightened its grip around your knees, and drew close your head to his shoulder. He would sometimes stumble over his own feet, cursing slightly, and you would jolt from the sharp pain in your stomach.
But as his steps slowly faltered, so did your eyelids, as they grew heavier, and heavier. “Hanta…” You slurred, managing to only say some vowels clearly.
You looked up, your vision slowly growing into a blur, but his figure was still there.
“Happy… birthday…”
He looked down upon you, panic filling his eyes, but of course you can’t see that. “I-I can’t… I can’t find anyone… shit, shit!!” His voice was slowly filled with panic, shaking you harshly as a desperate attempt to keep you awake. “Don’t you dare die on me! Don’t you fucking dare!”
What…? What did he say…? His voice only felt like an echo, ringing through your ears as you felt your body shake. You couldn’t even make out what you were looking at, is it the sky? The lights? The pain in your stomach had grown dull, and the world slowly fell dark. At least, for this moment, you had wished him his birthday… right?
｡𖦹°‧
“No, no, NO!” He shouted, running as he kept switching from looking at you to the road, shouting for anyone to come help, anyone to just please save you. “Plea–” His words were cut off by the lump in his throat as the road in front of him just came to a blur, and his cheeks felt warm as a tear rolled down through it, hanging by his jaw.
“Please, please, please… don’t do this, please…”
Hanta’s quick steps halted, he gazed upon your limp body, shaking it. “Wake up, please… j-just… say… something, anything…” He bit down on his trembling lower lip, his brows frowned as he tried to figure out what to do. Slowly, he crouched down, eyeing your head that already hung back, your hands no longer gripping trying to hold back the pain, and your face no longer frowning, now resting as if you were sleeping… but your lips, your lips were so pale, and those tear tracks were still at the corners of your eyes. He gently placed down your body, desperately giving an attempt to call you out of death’s grip.
“Hey..” He sobbed, his voice strained, hoarse. “Wake up… please…”
His hand went to your face, patting your cheek repeatedly, almost slapping it. “Please, please… please…y/n don’t do this…” But even your face felt cold already, the vibrant color dancing around your smile no longer present, instead now replaced with a muted version of it, silenced by death.
His tears fell to your face, warm drops landing on a cold, soft surface as he sobbed.
"...We're supposed to go on that date..."
Enveloping your body, he held your head close as he wailed, screaming his sobs to the ground.
Happy birthday, Hanta.
dworkism | do not repost!
a/n : yaayy first post hehehe I hope this is good enough :P
got the inspo from this btw
➤ masterlist!
Singer!Reader HCs
feat. Alt MHA bois Part 2 Here
Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Sero x Reader, Hawks x Reader, Dabi x Reader, Shoji x Reader, Tokoyami x Reader, Kirshima x Reader Notes: The songs I put at the bottom just imagine them with a fem! singer bc its the overall vibe I went for. There is a part two bc it got pretty long whoops
⇩ ⇩ ⇩ ⇩
Doesn’t openly talk about loving your music or you per se, but owns so much merch of you and your band. I’m talking posters, postcards, albums, shirts, etc.
Listens to your voice R E LI G I OU SL Y
If he thinks he’s alone then he’ll try to duet some of your songs, convincing himself that you two would make such a great singing duo
UPLOADS DRUM COVERS OF YOUR SONGS AND FREAKS OUT WHEN YOU LIKE/RESPOND TO THEM!!!11
ALWAYS goes to your signings if he has time and when you signed his drumsticks with a heart mans is deceased
Always opts for more of your heavier/faster songs bc this man just needs the fuel to his anger. But on days when he’s really down or feels lonely he listens to your more softer and melodic songs, soaking in your vocals.
Rewatches your music videos and likes every single picture you post.
Favorite song of yours: Calm Snow - I See Stars
Tells EVERYONE about you and your band, plays your songs on blast and recommends them to everyone.
Doesn’t really own much posters of you/your band but he does have lots of apparel. (Shirts, beanies, keychains, etc)
LOVES attending your concerts, always gets front row seats to see your pretty smile.
This dude man, he has pictures of you two on his page from every concert/meet and greet/ signings/etc that he’s ever attended. Like so many you know his name now.
He’s more drawn to your easy-going, light vocals type songs
But isn’t afraid to listen to your heavier stuff
Mans STREAMS your music videos and loves making edits of solely you
Favorite song of yours: Silence Speaks - While She Sleeps
SIMPING FOR YOU!!!! HE EVEN HAS A BODY PILLOW OF YOU IM--
Several posters, photos, stickers, albums, you name it he has it
Brings you lots of gifts to each backstage concert bc yk he buys that VIP shit
He will absolutely DIE if he sees pictures of you wearing an expensive necklace he gifted you or any sort of jewelry
Hangs out and talks to you so much that you guys actually become good friends!!
I feel like he would lowkey make fanfics about the two fo you. You cant tell me he wont
Has an ALT ACC WITH THIRSTY EDITS OF YOU!! Calls you his baby bird/dove/songbird/etc
I also feel like Hawks plays guitar or bass and he would def make covers or even collab with you bc yall besties now
Mans has a tiktok account and will def post videos of yall singing together
Although he’s a really chill guy I feel like he leans more towards your slower songs that hit harder than the others
Favorite song of yours: The Fear Of Letting Go - Too Close To Touch
Being a villian and all, you know he cant come to your concerts/events but he damn well tries to.
Doesn’t own much merch of yours as he accidentally burnt a poster he had of yours after a certain incident (he felt really bad bc he got mad)
I feel like he would def have a funko-pop or figurine of you on his desk
Loves jamming to your songs (blasting it so loud in his room that its literally shaking in there LMAO)
Watches ALL of your music videos, streams and BUYS YOUR MUSIC TO SUPPORT YOU HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH
Sings along with you omg even tho it hurts to reach your high notes
Thrives off of your more aggressive songs especially the one where he can feel the pain in your voice over whatever subject or whoever you were singing about
Definitely wishes he was that ex you sung about LMAO
Why can I see him punching drywall to your songs bc hes so into it LMAOOOO
Favorite song of yours: Crooked Smile - Too Close To Touch
One of the bois who don’t talk about their love for you super much, but instead is a closeted fan!
Watches your music videos on REPEAT, knows the lyrics to all of your songs
Whenever you smile at the screen or do something cute, he is STRUCK with love
Binge-watches all of your interviews/funny moments/etc, just loves getting to know you and seeing all the sides of you that isn’t the perfect singer that everyone sees
He does attend your concerts/events but he stays in the back for he doesn’t want to scare anyone or you with how he looks like
Why can I see him running an appreciation blog like-
Posting about your cute smile or laugh and he’s internally panicking bc you mentioned his blog in your latest interview saying that seeing all the kind things he posted about you made your day whenever you were down
Prefers the slower, melodic songs or where you’re just messing around
Favorite song of yours: All I wanted - Paramore
Have you SEEN THIS MANS ROOM
Like there is no doubt in my mind that he has posters covering every inch of his wall. Limited edition posters, signed posters, you name it he has it
Doesn’t really talk about you but if he knows his friends also listen to you, then he will def rant about you
“Hey Tokoyami have you heard _’s new song yet-” Man has bags under his eyes bc he streamed that song so many times last night listening to it on repeat. When the music video dropped he shared that shit on all of his social medias.
Def does covers of your songs, it fills him with joy when you repost his covers on your account with a nice message ‘You’re so talented omg!! <3 <3′
Also to me he would be the type of guy who posts lyrics in the comments if there isn’t any and would def go into detail about the lyrics meaning and such
Has a jacket full of patches of your band logo and album covers
He’s met you on a few occasions and he’s more than happy to stop and chat with you. Although he doesn’t go into full fan mode with you around, he respects you and instead asks about your day and such
Has no preference on your style, just that its you singing
Favorite song of his: Dance Macabre - Ghost
Hanta Sero x Reader- Rings chapter 3.5
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
You walked down the aisle, the clinking of your heels the only sound. Your hand was on your brother's arm as he led you down the aisle. You took a deep breath, looking up. You could see him. his eyes sparkled as he studied you. You smiled, and he thought he saw heaven for a moment. Your brother placed your small hand in Hanta's larger one. You saw him lean in "treat 'er well-" he didn't even get to finish before Hanta spoke, a smile on his face, "I will, don't worry." You smile as your brother walks away in triumph. You knew that he was happy for you. Hanta gently took your chin, turning your head toward him. you could see tears in his eyes, the priest started talking as you two stared at each other, eager to start your new life
"Hanta Sero, do you take Y/N L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?" he wiped tears from his eyes "I do" you smile, squeezing his hand "Y/N L/N," you want to interrupt, not to waste another second "do you take Hanta Sero to be your lawfully wedded husband?" "I do." Your voice came out more choked then you intended. You realized you were crying when he gently reached up, wiping a tear from your cheeke.
"You may kiss the bride," that was all it took, he gently stepped forward, his arms looping around your waist. you smile as your arms instinctively move to his shoulders, And the world seems to stop, everything else disappearing as your lips connect. It's not rough, passionate, yet, you still find yourself craving more of these soft, gentle, loving kisses.
As he pulls back, you pout and kiss him again, and again, and once more. You see his smile, the happy tears in his eyes as his forehead rests against yours. you're officially married.
So sweet lol.... FILL OUT THE POLL BELOW OR ELSE
Hanta Sero x Reader- Rings chapter 3
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
You feel warm hands on your back, a stark contrast to your cold skin. You were getting married, of course you're nervous. The hands zip up your dress, then they move to your hair. They are gentle in a way that only mothers can be, "Thanks mum" you smile as the hands grip your shoulders, turning you 360. She examines your dress and hair.
Your hair isn't sitting perfectly on your head, your dress doesn't fall perfectly over your body, Hell, your body isn't perfect. But he loved it. The man you were about to marry, So, if he liked it, you were fine with it. And this man, he loved you so much that today, a ring-his ring would go on your finger.
Your mom nodded in approval, and a smile crept it's way onto your lips. "You look beautiful, dear." She gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You fiddle with your fingers, and your mom notices. "Y/N, I know what you're feeling, my wedding day..." she chuckles "just, you're marrying a lovely man. Hanta is the best of the best, you're in good hands" this makes you chuckle.
A knock on the door interrupts your mom, she just simply gets up and answers the door. "oh, yes, she's ready! Just a bit anxious. "From the couch, you can't see who's at the door, but it was probably a bridesmaid or the best man. "I'm ready, don't worry." You took a deep breath, grabbing the skirt of your dress as you make your way to the door. You grab the flower bouquet from your mom, "love you mum." you press a kiss to her cheek. Then you walk out, ready to meet your fiance -well, soon to be husband. It was finally time.
This took too long 🙃 Part 2 of this (3.5 of the Sero Hanta series) coming out on Friday!
Rings- A Sero x Reader Fanfic (Chapter 2)
Chapter 1
Your hand is interlocked with his. Your eyes are too busy studying the cherry blossoms floating down from the trees, the beautiful Mt. Fuji in the distance. he rustling of his jacket falls on deaf ears. His free hand resting on the velvetly fabric, his thumb moves over it in an attempt to soothe his racing heart He would either walk out with a fiance or a broken heart, Hopefully the former. You gently squeeze his hand, pointing out at Mt Fuji, as snow flies off the top.
"Look! Isn't it pretty!" He smiles, his attention on you rather then the Mountain " It's gorgeous" he mutters. You hear him take a deep breath and glance back at him as be brings your hand to his mouth, his kisses leaving tingles on your skin.
"I love you, Y/N. And I really don't deserve you" "Hanta" "please, Amor," You fall silent... is he breaking up with you?
"Amor, you're stunning. and I'm... plain," he glances up at you, meeting your eyes. "You've never asked for more then what I have. I honestly don't know how you're so patient and caring" a chuckle escapes his lips and he sinks to one knee, still holding your hand "Amor, Y/N L/N, I love you. ads..." he grasps the box in his pocket. "I would love to call you Y?N Sero. Has a nice ring to it, yeah?" he emphasized ring... and added his name to yours... you gasp at the realization, your eyes locked on the velvet box in his hand. he releases your hand, only to open the box. I was a lovely ring. It had a lovely sparkling stone, your birthstone. On the inside of the band, your name was ingraved next to his, the only thing separating them was a heart, "Y/N L/N, will you-" you didn't even let him finish.
"Yes!"
you jumped on him, pressing your soft lips to his. his hands in your hair sending shivers and thrills down your spine.
"Don't ever call yourself plain, Hanta"
Hanta Sero x Reader Oneshot: Rings
Chapter 2
You listen cluelessly as the people around the table all chat in Spanish. You can pick up little snippets of what they're saying from what you remember of middle and high school Spanish classes- that you passed with a C. Not your proudest moment. You feel a calloused hand rest lightly on your thigh.
As your eyes mect his he smiled, gently squeezing the fat of your thigh, "Sorry, mi cariño. My family doesn't know much English." he whispers under his breath, pressing an apologetic kiss to your temple.
You smile at the kiss, gently leaning on your pro-hero boyfriend's muscular shoulder. "Not your fault, " you mutter. "I wanted to meet your family." You glance around the table. They really were a lively bunch- just like him. "She's a good cook." you mutter, leaning over him to grab a rice ball from his plate. You hear him chuckle as you pop the rice ball in your mouth. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, gently squeezing you against him "too bad I didn't get her cooking stills him?" You scoff remember all the dishes he had burnt. "My life would be much easier if you did, trust me. "you mutter, recalling all the times she'd cleaned up the burnt remnants of his most recent codding failure. "Hmm, you know, I got lucky with her as my mother" uh oh somethings off, he never says 'mother' unless he's mad with her or it's a joke, Its made clear which one as he finishes his sentence, "y'know, maybe someday she'll be your mother-in-law... he mutters in a suggestive tone, putting his arm around your shoulders. You crack a smile and bring a hand up to muffle your giggles, "Why? Planning to gut a riny on my finger?" he hummed playfully. "eager much? Well, one day for sure" he glanced down at you. "I don't even have plans to get a ring yet." he chuckles and flicks your forehead playfully. You pout, unknown to the fact that there was a small velvet box in his bedside table, right next to the bed where you two cuddle and talk in hushed whispers. Though soon, the velvet box will be moved to his pocket as he waits for the perfect moment...
~Notes from me~
OHHHHH WE NEED MORE SERO ONESHOTS!! This was so fun to write!! Part two anyone??