Oh My Fuck!!! I Love The Way You Write Hanta Saur Much. Dying. Stalked Your Masterlist For Him. Realised

chat i'm gonna make a tsuyu asui x masc!reader wish me luck

you wrote this so beautifully like actually. it's gorgeous, like WOW mind blown

tell my mom we're in love | h. sero

fake dating wasn't on your holiday to-do list—until sero invited you home for tamales and chaos (3525 words)

you regretted this the moment you stepped out of the dormitory and into the sharp chill of mid-december air, a duffel bag hanging off one shoulder and your dignity already teetering on the edge. trailing beside you was hanta sero, practically vibrating with the smug energy of a man who had just talked his best friend into making the worst decision of her academic career.

and technically, he had.

somewhere between his mother's increasingly invasive matchmaking attempts and his inability to say the word "no" like a normal person, he'd decided the solution was to invent a girlfriend. and of course, of course, he'd chosen you.

"come on," he said now, as a cab idled at the curb, white exhaust curling into the crisp air like smoke from a slow-burning disaster. "tell me this won't be fun. just a little bit."

"i think i'm too emotionally aware to find this fun," you muttered, hoisting your bag into the trunk as he leaned beside you with his usual careless grace.

sero grinned—that unbothered, insufferably pretty grin that always made it harder to stay annoyed with him for long. "emotionally aware, huh? sounds like you're already getting into character."

you leveled him with a look. "if i'm your girlfriend, you're going to need to stop flirting like a golden retriever with a god complex."

"babe," he said, slipping into the backseat beside you with the kind of unearned confidence that should have come with a warning label, "flirting is literally how i survive in social settings. don't take this from me."

you stared out the window, hoping the freezing glass would cool the creeping warmth crawling up your neck. "we're not actually dating, hanta."

"right," he said, and he sounded amused, not wounded. "but we could be really good at it."

you didn't answer. he didn't press.

the cab pulled away from the dorms, and for a moment the silence between you was companionable, like it always had been. you'd known sero for years now—long enough to understand that his laid-back demeanor was as real as it was performative. he was the kind of person who made a room feel lighter just by being in it, but who also knew the weight of silence better than most people ever would.

he didn't make you feel like you had to be anyone but yourself. and that, unfortunately, was the root of the problem.

somewhere along the road from "we're just friends" to "please pretend to be my girlfriend so my mom stops trying to marry me off," things had started to shift.

not all at once. not obviously.

but they shifted.

now he was dozing beside you, his head tilted toward your shoulder, and every bump in the road made him inch closer. you should have nudged him off. you should have drawn the line.

but you didn't.

instead, you studied the soft lines of his face—the relaxed set of his mouth, the faint crease between his brows like his dreams were just a little too fast for his thoughts to catch—and you wondered what the hell you'd gotten yourself into.

by the time the cab slowed, the sun had dipped low, casting golden light over a neighborhood that looked far too idyllic to be real. sero's house was two stories of warmth and welcome: string lights curled along the porch railing, a wreath hung slightly crooked on the front door, and smoke drifted lazily from a chimney that promised something warm inside.

standing at the threshold was a woman with sharp eyes, a kind smile, and the unmistakable aura of someone who could both bake you cookies and emotionally destroy you in the same breath.

sero's mother.

you froze.

he didn't.

without hesitation, sero leaned in, brushing your hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. his voice dipped just low enough for only you to hear. "smile like you love me."

then he reached for your hand.

his fingers, long and warm, laced effortlessly through yours.

you didn't pull away.

and that was the moment—standing at the edge of his childhood, your fingers locked in his, heart skipping in the kind of rhythm you weren't prepared for—that you realized you were in far more danger than you thought.

because part of you didn't want to let go.

the cab hadn't even rolled to a full stop before sero's mom was standing in front of it, arms crossed, eyes already locked onto her target like a seasoned general. you had seen pictures, sure—sero had shown you a few over lunch one day, swiping through images of his mom with an almost reverent fondness—but none of them did her justice.

she was radiant. that was the first word that came to mind. not in some soft, dreamy way, but in the sharp, unmistakable warmth of someone who had mastered the art of existing unapologetically. she had a scarf looped carelessly around her neck, dark hair pinned up with wisps escaping, and that immediate, unnerving energy unique to mothers who know everything before you say a word.

"hanta," she said brightly as you approached. "you took forever, mijo. i was about to call."

and then her eyes slid to you.

her whole face changed.

"qué linda," she said, stepping down toward you without hesitation. "you're even prettier than the pictures."

you opened your mouth to answer—say something polite, maybe even charming—but instead you were pulled into a hug so warm and familiar you forgot how to speak altogether.

she smelled like cinnamon and butter, like café and home. her arms wrapped around you without hesitation, solid and reassuring, and you blinked twice before realizing she wasn't letting go just yet.

she pulled back, hands on your shoulders, eyes scanning your face with curiosity. "how old are you, mija?"

"seventeen," you managed. "ua student. same class as hanta."

"top twenty," sero chimed from behind you, proud and useless.

his mom smiled wider. "good. you'll need that to keep up with him. he talks too much."

"i'm right here," sero said, offended.

"and what's your quirk, sweetheart?" she asked, guiding you inside like she owned every molecule of the house—which she probably did.

"just a luck quirk," you replied. "it's not anything big or flashy."

"flashy's overrated," she said. "flashy gets you on magazine covers, but smart keeps you alive. hanta could use some of that balance."

sero made a wounded noise. "i'm right here."

you stepped into the house and tried not to gape. it was warm and lived-in, with mismatched furniture and soft lights, and framed photos in every direction. you passed at least three different versions of baby sero—one with cake on his face, one dressed as a shark, and one in a tiny suit looking like he'd lost a bet.

you were immediately ushered to the couch, where sero flopped down beside you like he'd done this a thousand times. his arm stretched along the back of the cushions behind you, easy and casual, but you felt the heat of it like a brand against your neck.

his mom sat in the armchair across from you, one leg crossed, hands folded, expression deceptively pleasant.

"so," she said. "how long have you two been together?"

"six months," you and sero answered in unison.

your eyes met. you both smiled.

it was practiced, but god—it didn't feel like a lie.

"how'd you meet?" she asked next.

sero leaned forward like he was telling a secret. "training. she beat up kaminari. i've never recovered."

you tried not to laugh. "he followed me around for a week."

"i was courting you."

"you were loitering near vending machines."

"i was being persistent," he corrected. "it worked, didn't it?"

his mom watched you both, eyes narrowed just enough to make you sweat.

"and what do you like about my son?" she asked you, suddenly.

your mouth went dry.

sero glanced sideways, surprised.

but the answer came easy.

"he's reliable. and funny. and he listens—really listens. like you're the only person in the room."

you could feel sero's eyes on you, and the room felt warmer than it had a second ago.

"he's easy to be around," you said, a little softer now. "i feel like i can breathe near him."

a long silence stretched across the room.

then sero bumped your shoulder with his own, voice low. "you're not supposed to make me blush in front of my mom."

his mom smiled, pleased. "i like you."

you smiled back, because how could you not. "thank you."

"i made tamales," she said, rising to her feet. "sit tight. i'll get you a plate."

"do you need help—?" you started, half-standing.

"no, no. you're a guest. you sit and let yourself be adored."

she vanished into the kitchen with surprising speed.

the moment she was out of earshot, you collapsed sideways onto the couch.

"i blacked out," you whispered. "what did i even say?"

"that i'm amazing and you love being around me," sero said smugly.

you shot him a look.

he leaned a little closer, voice dropping. "also, you were adorable. you didn't have to go that hard. i almost forgot it was fake."

you didn't answer.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

dinner came after a comfortable lull in the afternoon—just enough time for you to grow used to the house's warmth, the quiet hum of kitchen sounds, and the sound of sero humming to himself as he helped his mom plate tamales. there was something undeniably domestic about it—watching him lean over the counter, sleeves pushed up, swiping a bit of masa from the corner of a dish with a grin when he thought no one was watching.

you caught yourself watching.

a little too long.

and when he turned around and caught your eye, offering you a wink that made your stomach stutter—you looked away, pretending to study the wall like it had secrets.

the house filled slowly with more noise, more feet, more voices. by the time dinner was ready, the table was surrounded by people—his siblings, all younger, all chaos incarnate. there were five in total, ranging from what looked like barely ten to maybe sixteen. all of them clearly adored sero, and all of them clearly had a thousand questions about you.

"are you really his girlfriend?" one of the younger girls asked, blinking up at you from her seat at the far end of the table.

sero, already sitting beside you, reached for your hand under the table without hesitation. "of course she is," he said easily. "she puts up with me. that's gotta mean something."

you glanced sideways, surprised by the way his thumb started tracing circles into your palm. his fingers were warm, his grip relaxed, like this was a habit and not a performance. your first instinct was to pull away—but you didn't. you let him hold on.

"do you like him?" one of the boys asked bluntly, somewhere between a dare and a test.

you looked over at sero, who was already looking at you.

and the smile that spread across his face wasn't teasing. it wasn't even smug.

it was soft.

"i do," you said honestly. "he's easy to like."

one of his sisters actually swooned.

their mother returned from the kitchen, a stack of warm plates balanced in her arms. "aye, look at you two," she said fondly, setting down the food. "you look like you've been married five years already."

sero snorted. "that's because she already tells me what to do."

"someone has to," you said, nudging his leg under the table.

his knee pressed into yours and didn't move.

the meal began in full, voices rising over each other, stories flying back and forth like birds across the table. tamales were unwrapped, passed down, devoured. rice and beans steamed in bowls at the center. someone spilled horchata and got teased for it for fifteen minutes straight.

sero kept his hand under the table the entire time.

sometimes on your knee. sometimes brushing your fingers. once, briefly, resting on your thigh with a touch so casual and confident you forgot how to breathe for a second.

"so how did you know?" his mom asked halfway through the meal, raising an eyebrow. "that you liked each other, i mean."

you blinked. "um."

sero didn't miss a beat.

"she made this face at me once," he said, totally serious. "during training. right after i got my ass handed to me. and i thought—yeah. i'd let her ruin my life."

you choked on a sip of water. "that's not what happened."

"you raised your eyebrow," he insisted, "like i was both impressive and pathetic. it was very motivating."

"you were bleeding."

"romance is about timing."

the table erupted in laughter.

"you're ridiculous," you muttered, but there was no bite to it. you felt lightheaded from smiling too much.

his younger sister leaned over the table toward you. "you make him less annoying," she said seriously. "he's, like, way less weird with you here."

"he's still weird," someone else muttered.

"hey," sero said, deeply offended. "i'm the glue of this household."

"you're the glitter glue," one of the boys shot back. "unnecessary and all over everything."

the conversation swirled, but it was warm. easy. you felt like you'd slipped into a rhythm you hadn't known you were missing. sero's family didn't make you feel like an outsider. if anything, they treated you like a permanent fixture—like they already liked you, just because he did.

and sero—he kept looking at you.

in the quiet moments between bites. when you laughed at something his brother said. when you wiped your fingers on your napkin and he passed you your drink like he'd already anticipated you'd reach for it.

"you're really good at this," you whispered during a lull, leaning in.

"at what?" he asked, voice low, chin tilted toward you.

"this," you said. "pretending."

his eyes flicked down to your mouth, just for a second.

"what can i say," he said quietly. "i'm something of an actor."

you snickered.

and then his mom called your name from across the table.

"you like dessert, mija?" she asked, already bringing out the plates.

you blinked twice before answering, forcing a smile. "of course. thank you."

sero didn't look away from you for a long time.

dinner had long ended. the noise had faded. sero's house, once pulsing with overlapping voices and clattering plates, now thrummed with a different kind of energy—low, contented, quiet.

his siblings had scattered, full-bellied and sugar-sticky, off to bedrooms and couches and wherever else they disappeared to in the evening. someone had turned on a dusty old playlist in the den, and the soft hum of vintage boleros curled through the walls like warmth that refused to die.

you stood in the hallway between the dining room and the back door, hovering in the in-between of things: of conversations and thoughts, of what was real and what had only started out that way.

you weren't sure what to do with your hands.

or your heart.

sero appeared beside you like he always did—quiet-footed and comfortably close, smelling faintly of soap and masa and something sweet from dessert you hadn't caught the name of. his sleeves were still pushed up, revealing his forearms, and you hated that you were looking at them. not because they weren't worth looking at—they were—but because it meant your guard was down. again.

"come on," he said softly. "balcony?"

you didn't answer. you just nodded and followed.

the air outside was sharp and clean. the kind of cold that wakes you up without being cruel. you wrapped your arms around yourself more out of instinct than discomfort. the balcony was small, with a windchime shaped like a lizard hanging from the overhang, and a view of soft suburban rooftops and yellow windows scattered like lanterns across the horizon.

you leaned against the wooden railing. he did the same.

neither of you spoke.

you were too full of the evening. of tamales and laughter. of too much touch under the table. of words you'd said with a smile that weren't lies—but weren't supposed to be true either.

the problem wasn't pretending.

the problem was that pretending didn't feel like pretending anymore.

you didn't know when it had changed. maybe it was gradual—each time he laced his fingers through yours without asking, or rested his hand on your thigh mid-story, or offered you a grin across the table that was so familiar, so soft, you forgot why you were here in the first place.

but it hit you now, standing beside him in the chill—this unshakable, irreversible knowledge:

you were in love with him.

god, you were in love with hanta sero.

not just in a surface-level, crush-colored way. not just in the i-like-how-he-makes-me-laugh way. it was deeper than that. older. something that had snuck in when you weren't looking and taken root so quietly you hadn't noticed until it was everywhere.

you were in love with the way he held space. with the way he listened without trying to fix you. with the way he let the world land on him lightly, and still carried it in both hands when it mattered.

you were in love with someone who didn't even know you weren't faking anymore.

you exhaled.

"you're quiet," he said, not looking at you. "regretting it already?"

you shook your head. "no. it's just... weird how easy it was. with your family."

he hummed. "they like you."

"they liked that i made you less annoying."

"that is the highest compliment in my house."

you smiled, faint. "they're sweet. loud, but sweet."

"you kept up fine."

"i think i blacked out for half of it."

"you were golden," he said, softer now. "you always are."

you turned toward him slowly.

the lights from the kitchen spilled faintly through the curtains behind you, catching just enough of his face for you to see how relaxed he looked. how present. how close.

you swallowed.

"hanta?"

he looked over at you, brows raised. "yeah?"

there was a beat of silence.

"i don't know how to lie to you," you said.

he blinked once.

then again, slower.

"what?"

"i mean," you continued, hands curling around the edge of the railing. "i've been trying. all day. and i thought i could. i thought i could pull it off—play the part, pretend—but then we got here, and your mom hugged me, and you touched my hand under the table, and i just... i don't know when it stopped being a bit."

his eyes searched your face like he was looking for something he'd already lost.

"hanta," you said again. "i'm in love with you."

his face froze.

the air between you seemed to still. the windchime didn't move. the whole world narrowed into this one pinpoint moment, bright and fragile and terrifying.

he stepped back—just barely.

"you don't have to keep pretending," he said. carefully. cautiously. "no one's watching anymore. you can drop it."

you stared at him.

"i'm not pretending," you said.

another beat. a sharp exhale.

his lips parted slightly. his brows furrowed, not in confusion, but in disbelief. in the kind of fear that came from wanting something too much and being afraid to reach for it.

"you're serious."

"i've never been more serious about anything in my life."

sero let out a long, shaky laugh. it cracked halfway through.

"say it again," he whispered.

"i'm in love with you."

and this time, you reached for him.

your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, and you felt the moment he melted—slow and overwhelmed, the way something melts that's been cold for too long.

"you've got to be kidding me," he muttered, leaning into your touch. "i thought—god, i thought i was the only one losing my mind over this."

you smiled, eyes stinging.

"you weren't."

"i've been in love with you since second year," he admitted, voice breaking a little. "you kissed my cheek that one time after i carried your books back from the nurse's office, and i nearly died. like, actual cardiac arrest."

"that was a year ago."

"welcome to my long, slow descent into insanity."

you laughed, quiet and ridiculous.

and then he kissed you.

it wasn't rushed. wasn't showy. it wasn't a fireworks-and-credits-roll kiss.

it was the kind that happened in doorways, in hallways, in quiet rooms where hearts beat too loud. the kind that changed nothing and everything all at once.

he kissed you like he meant it.

you kissed him like you'd been waiting your whole life to.

when you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours.

"you're real?" you whispered, breath catching.

"i better be," he said. "otherwise you've just confessed to a figment of your imagination."

you swallowed a grin.

his thumb traced your cheek.

"i thought this would end in disaster," he said quietly. "that pretending would ruin everything."

"and?"

"and now i don't want it to end at all."

you leaned in, bumping your nose against his.

"then it doesn't have to."

he smiled, and kissed you again.

not like he was pretending.

like he was home.

꩜ — strictly business, perhaps.

pairings : boss!tenya iida x secretary!reader

warnings : 4.3k words damn (UNRESOLVED TENSIONNN)

➤ masterlist!

Papers rustle by the glass top of the table, along with the sound of typing on the keyboard. Tenya sighed, clattering his glasses onto the table top, he pinched the bridge of his nose. The documents didn’t seem to end, his stomach was rumbling, churning, and his head was spinning. 

“Goodness..” He complained silently, propping his head upon his hand as his hand ran through his hair. 

The silence of the small office was broken briefly by the glass door opening, then closing again. Your form stood there in a bit of awkwardness, sensing the boss’s not-so-pleasant mood. Clutching the clipboard, you cleared your throat softly. 

“Mister Iida, I-It is lunch time already, would you… like for me to order your lunch from the restaurant on the ground floor?” You carefully asked, keeping your tone hushed.

He sighed, nodding before he stood up while straightening his clothes and his tie. “Please do, y/n. Thank you very much.” He replied, his voice husky and hoarse, while his hand perched his glasses back on to his nose. Tenya cleared his throat once more, and he stayed like that for a moment, while you nodded, turning your back to him as you reached for the door once more. 

But then you turned back around again, “Oh!” Your index finger plucking up to the air. “And, would you like your usual orange juice to go with it as well, mister Iida?” 

And finally, his stiffened cheeks frozen from the day’s work twitched up to a smile, a huff escaping his breath. “Yes please, y/n. Thank you very much.”

˚୨୧⋆.˚

The scent of broth and the steam of rice greeted Tenya’s lungs, warmth replacing the dull cold air from the air conditioner. He smiled faintly, tilting his body to the side from his computer, meeting your form teetering on your feet while you carefully ushered the tray in your hands to his table.

“Thank you so much, y/n. Right on time.” He sighed, clearing the space on his table for the tray to be placed down to. 

You smiled softly to him, chuckling softly as you carefully placed down his lunch in front of him. “Perhaps I know my boss too well.” 

That earned a small laugh from him as he picked up the spoon and fork from the side of the tray, the utensils clinking to each other as he unwrapped the napkin wrapping them. The faint smoke danced around the air, before slowly seeping into his nostrils again, and he could only sigh with a smile.

“Perhaps you do.” He replied, smiling warmly at you from above his glasses, which you only replied with a soft chuckle and a sway of your body.

You cleared your throat, pulling yourself back to the ground. “Is there anything I can help more, sir?” 

He shook his head, already dipping his spoon into the clear broth of the soup. “No, no,”

Then he paused. 

“How about you, y/n? Have you eaten?” His head looked up from his lunch, a finger adjusting his glasses again to see you clearly, his brows furrowed a bit in concern. Which you responded with a nod, “Mhm, already have, sir.” 

He nods, “Good, good.” 

“I’ll excuse myself then, sir?” You reassured again, bowing slightly to him.

Tenya grinned, nodding as his hand gestured for you to exit the room. “Yes, thank you again, y/n.”

˚୨୧⋆.˚

For goodness’ sake, can this project finish itself? Were the man’s thoughts as he typed furiously on the keyboard. It seemed like the proposals needed for the project seemed to be endless, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask any help from you. Though that was what his fingers are twitching to do right now. His thumb hovered over the phone button on your contact as he debated his choices.

On one hand, it’s already almost midnight, and you had gone home way long ago. He needs some help, and Tenya swears if he were to type another letter for another corporation to ask them to sponsor this massive charity project, he’s going to blow his office into shreds. On the other hand, it’s Friday. Which means you’re probably having some week-end routine, which he does not dare to interrupt. 

What if you were on a date? Goodness, it will be such impoliteness to disturb your night.

What if… you were trying to have some fun with your friends? Well he wouldn’t want to barge in now, won’t he?

What if you were already asleep?! Oh goodness that would be such a fuss..

Or– or…

“It’s just a call, Tenya.” He huffed, grumbling to himself while his thumb hesitantly pressed the button. 

It took a couple of beeps from the line to finally connect to yours, and a small shuffling sound was heard before your groggy voice hummed in confusion, answering the call. 

“M...Mister Iida?” Was what you managed to croak out, your voice nervous and hazy, a small sigh of sleepiness could be heard from your side of the line. 

Tenya scolded himself mentally, chewing on his lower lip in panic as he stammered a few vowels. “Oh goodness, y/n, I-..I’m… so very sorry…” He softly apologized, sighing in regret. “I didn't mean to wake you… j-just go back to sleep, y/n,”

“I’ll inform you about this in Monday..” 

Your voice could be heard mumbling from the other line, chewing your tongue to wake yourself up. “It’s fine, sir… is there anything you need help with…?”

He shook himself, standing up from his seat as if he were to chide you in person. “No, no.”

“Sleep is essential, y/n. I apologize for disturbing your slumber.”

There was silence for a moment in the call, only faint buzzing from the phone repeating upon his ears as he nervously waited for your answer.

“Mmkay sir, g’night…” 

And with that, the line hung up. So did his arm, hung to his side as he sighed to himself, hitting his forehead with his palm repeatedly in frustration. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid..!” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s almost midnight, of course it’s bedtime!” He huffed, straightening his back, tugging down his shirt to straighten it once more as he sat back down to his seat, creaking it in the process.

He propped himself again, hovering his hands over his keyboard, and for a second–he stayed like that, somehow unsure of what to type to the proposal. 

Ahem. 

He propped himself up again, straightening his back, preparing to type. 

…but your voice kept echoing, taunting him from the back of his head. That soft, sleepy little goodnight replaying again and again in his ear, clear as day.

˚୨୧⋆.˚

You walked into the office as per usual the Monday, the few previous night’s little disturbance slipped way out of your mind. But one thing never did; checking in on your boss to inform him of his schedules today. Except… weird.

The disciplinarian Tenya Iida had never been late before, and even if he were ever late, it was late to his own clock. Yet today seemed to be the latter. Tenya Iida, the infamous early bird, your boss, is not to be found in his office. The glass door is still locked, waiting to be opened by his ID card. And so you walked to your cubicle again, placing down your tablet to the table as you rummaged your pocket of your phone, swiftly swiping to his chat room. 

It took him a good five minutes before his typing animation popped by the side of the screen, three little dots jumping up and down before his message got sent;

Weird. You thought again. 

You had been working for this busy man for too long to know the man doesn’t even need alarms to be able to wake up to his schedule. Even if he did, hadn’t his body already memorized the time he has to get up? 

You shrugged it off, fingers already pressing the numbers to the restaurant to order your boss’s breakfast. 

Precise, as always. Ten minutes later, the familiar blue haired man walked into the office, his glasses sat slightly crooked upon the bridge of his nose as he scattered himself into his office. You chuckled at the sight, standing up to catch up to him in his office. With a small knock on the door, it unlocked from inside.

“Good morning, sir.” You greeted, pushing the door with your back as your hands both carried his breakfast; warm egg toast, and a glass of orange juice. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

Tenya stiffens. The sound of his rustling fabric stopping immediately as you greeted him. “M-morning, y/n,” He replied, his slight voice crack immediately covered with him clearing his throat. “I.. have not..” 

Ahem. “H..how’d you know…?”

You chuckled, setting down the meal to his table, before setting your hands to your sides, “I figured it’s hard to think of breakfast when you are running late, sir.” 

Then he grinned. Not the classic professional grin he had always worn, it was… sheepish, almost shy. Tenya’s voice rumbled lowly as he chuckled. “Thank you, y/n.”

With a smile, and a nod of acknowledgement, you excused yourself to take your tablet. As you walked back in, he was still tying his tie, swiftly folding it around his neck while you opened your tablet to swipe to the calendar app. 

Tenya’s back turns away from you as he comes to face you, giving a hum or two as you explained his schedules for today, while sometimes adding somethings in between like; “Oh, that one is cancelled.” or “I think that one is prolonged, y/n. I forgot to inform you.” And you’d nod, typing swiftly on the keyboard or tapping and swiping to edit the schedule for today. So with your morning routine finished, you excused yourself once more, exiting his office to return to your cubicle. 

And now, Tenya was alone in his office, once more. Your steady and intonated voice is gone, replaced by the constant humming from the air conditioner. He glanced at the breakfast you had left him. With awkwardness, he shuffled his way to the table, sitting down to carefully unwrap the sandwich—as if he was being watched. As he chewed, he scolded himself once more. 

How could he have been so out of discipline? He is the boss! And here he is, being late.

With a huff, he slapped himself on both cheeks. He chugged down the orange juice, setting the plate and the glass aside to switch the computer on. 

And then he remembered one thing. The one thing he tried to ask of you that night. He needed help typing those pesky proposals, his fingers already felt way too numb on the keyboard, and his head couldn’t even think of any more pleasing words for those sponsors. So he did, with many nerves, but he did. His fingers already remembered your cubicle phone’s number, and it beeped by with ease. Your voice answered almost immediately.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, uh… may I ask for some favor from you?” His tone cautious, almost as if he was concerned he had disturbed your peace. 

“Oh, Mister Iida. Of course, sir. What is it?”

He cleared his throat, swaying left and right on his spinning chair. “Could you please… help me in writing some proposals for the upcoming project, y/n…?” 

“Oh! Of course, sir. Would you need me to come to your office?”

Then he stayed silent. Glancing to the small couch by the side of his office as he contemplated the choice. “...Sure, that would be great, thank you y/n.” 

“I’ll be right with you, sir.”

And right with him you were. With a soft knock, the door unlocked from inside, allowing you to enter in once more. You clutched your laptop in your hand, carefully stepping into the quiet, isolated space. 

Tenya smiled, gesturing his hand to the couch. “Have a seat, y/n.”

“...I’m very sorry for asking your help on such a short notice,” 

You chuckled, waving your hand dismissively as you set down the laptop on the couch. “It’s alright, sir. It’s my job.”

With no further ado, he cleared his throat with a grin, explaining to you what he needed you to help with, as you propped up your laptop upon your lap, typing in his requirements and points needed to be included in each proposal. 

The two of you went on with silence as you both got to work. Broken only by the rhythmical tap of yours and his keyboard, and his occasional ahem’s. You would sometimes peek glances at him from the corner of your eyes, and as the day progressed, his tie loosened more and more. You couldn’t help but smile faintly at the sight. 

Him too, did so. Everytime you would unconsciously hum that one tune from a song, or mumble out the words you were typing in, he’d sneak a glance at you, smiling softly to himself before snapping his head back to the computer. Because God forbid you look this cute up close. Wait what?

By the last ‘thank you for taking the time to read this proposal’ you typed onto a document, the sky had gone dark, and so did the outside of his office. The clock shows 08:45 PM. You stretched your hands up, groaning softly as you cracked your head to the sides. With a stifled yawn, you swiped around your touchpad. 

“I’ll send the proposals to you, sir.” You informed him, your voice had lost its professionalism long ago, now you only had your hoarse and croaking speech to offer. 

Tenya’s head shot to the side to look at you. He sighed as he twitched up a grateful smile. “Thank you so much, y/n. I’m very sorry to be keeping you this late.”

Your lips pressed up to form a thin smile, as you slipped your laptop into its sleeve, standing up from the couch, a small dent left upon it from how long you sat there. “No need to apologize, mister Iida. I am only doing my job.” 

As you slung your bag over your shoulder, you bowed to him once more. “I’ll be excusing myself if you have nothing left for me to help you with, sir.” 

Tenya hesitated. He opened his mouth, then closed it. But then he opened it again, “Wait,” His voice croaked, his hand stiffly reaching out to yours before he stopped it, immediately pulling it to his side again. He cleared his throat, watching as you turned around again from the door. 

“L-let’s walk together to the exit, hm?”

Blink blink.

“Sure, mister Iida.” You smiled.

“Tenya,” He mumbled, walking to your side.

You tilted your head in confusion, “Hm?”

“Tenya, y/n. Just call me Tenya.” He softly repeated, smiling as he tapped his ID card to the reader beside the door, earning a small beep as the door unlocked for the both of you. 

He opened the door wide, nodding his head to the side to gesture you out. 

You smiled, clutching your laptop sleeve as you walked slowly past him, “Thank you,”

“...Tenya.” 

Goodness. A name should not have sounded that good on your lips, but the way you said his made his back stiff and his arms rigid. He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, cracking out a grin as he closed the door behind him, walking beside you towards the elevator. 

Small silence fell upon the two of you, one that you had grown familiar with. Tenya wasn’t the type to make unnecessary small talk if it wasn’t needed for hospitality. You and him were strictly, professionally business. A boss and his secretary. At times like these, you would sometimes grab the opportunity to update him on his schedule for the day tomorrow. But tonight was different, that silence felt… different. 

The elevator dinged, and he once again allowed you to enter first. With a nudge to his glasses, he cleared his throat as he stood beside you, subtly shifting his weight from feet to feet after he pressed the elevator button. The faint hum of swing jazz and the aroma of air freshener made it almost dramatic for you to be this nervous. You wanted to open your voice to inform him of his upcoming reviewing deadline, but how the heck do you just call your boss by his first name?! 

“It’s alright to call me by my name, y/n.” He croaked out, his eyes lingering on the elevator buttons as he chewed slightly on his bottom lip. 

You stiffened. “Oh– um… well, …T-tenya,” And he smiled.

“I just wanted to inform you that you’ll have some new… recruits to review, sir.” 

He nodded, his soft smile still not leaving his face as his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, broken by the elevator door opening. His arm stretched out to hold the door, gesturing for you to walk out first, as he mumbled a small, “Alright, remind me that tomorrow, hm?”

You nodded, “I will, sir.”

Tenya’s steps fell soft upon the marble floors as he exited the elevator, and you bowed. 

… “I-I’ll excuse myself then, sir.”

“Tenya, y/n.” He tuts, gently reminding you. 

And you chuckled, almost shy. “Right, right.”

“I’ll excuse myself. …Goodnight,”

“...Tenya.” You softly added, turning on your heel to make your way to the front exit. Your shoes made haste.

All of a sudden, everything felt slightly crooked on his body. Tenya’s knuckle nudged his glasses up his nose, his hand tugged on his coat, combing back his hair, goodness that stupid smile that crept up his mouth from the moment you turned away even felt too wide now. 

He cleared his throat again, drifting his body’s direction to the parking lot, a hand over his mouth, and the night’s cold air had never felt so warm on his face. 

Stop it, stop it, stop that, Tenya!

This is your secretary you are smiling about! Your secretary!

His steps quickened to the parking lot, his loafers trudging about onto the concrete floors as he rushed to his car, beeping it twice before he entered it like a man trying to hide from his assassin. 

Hands gripped onto the steering wheel, and with a long sigh, he started the engine. The car chirped around as he turned the key, and his radio switched on automatically. Sure, he wasn’t the type to listen to songs that much, yet this one just crept up into his ears. An old love song with its classic guitar melodies, lounging on about love is unexpected.

˚୨୧⋆.˚

At last! All the months of preparation and lobbying guests around the building, typing out proposals after proposals, staying back at the office until a few extra hours, the project’s done. It was the day. A charity event, held to fund scholarships for students around Japan. To say it is a success would be an understatement. The event had made itself known to the news, being casted upon to multiple news stations. 

Safe to say, Tenya was beyond proud that his hardwork now paid off. He grinned widely. Upon his hand, perched up a small champagne glass, swirling around with his small motions. 

“You look dashing tonight, Tenya.” You called from behind, cutting through his thoughts.

He immediately spun around, eyes wide and scattering as it looked for you. When they did find you, he may or may not have forgotten how to breathe for a moment. If having you in blazers and loose collared shirts wasn’t enough to make him short circuit, this definitely does its job. The way you had done your hair so effortlessly, yet so enchantingly, and how the soft glimmers from the chandelier made your eyes sparkle, not to mention the formalwear you had chosen for tonight fit a little bit too good on your body. His smile came out strained.

“Ah, thank you.” ahem. “You look… incredible tonight, y/n.” He managed to reply. 

And then you chuckled, and goodness it sounded so melodic to his ears, breathless and light. 

Tenya’s hand pushed his champagne glass to his mouth, sipping the clear bubbling liquid into his mouth to distract himself from the rising rhythm of his heart beat. 

“You look super proud tonight.” You teased, a small smirk as you nudged him lightly by his arm. 

This time it was his turn to chuckle, pursing his lips into a smile. “I couldn’t have done… all of this without your help, y/n.” He said, motioning his hand to the lively ballroom.

Before you could even reply, Tenya was barged around by his friends, congratulating him on his accomplishment of successfully hosting the event. As his hand got dragged away by them, he casted one last look to you, pressing up a pitiful grin as a silent apology, which you replied with a chuckle and a wave of your hand. 

So now here you are. In a bar. In between these people you barely know. Sure, some of them were actually your friends, but they were too busy celebrating the success. Others? Eh, maybe you greet them in the hallways in the mornings and evenings, but that was all. They laughed and giggled drunkenly. Singing and dancing together with their blazers loose, while some of the women only chatted by the counter. 

By the edges of the laughing men, there Tenya sat, his tux already disheveled, his hair loosen down to his flushed face as he laughed about some joke that probably wasn’t that funny. Then his eyes spotted you, making him stumble a bit until he reached you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Goodness, y/n…” He slurred out, leaning against the counter. And you couldn’t help but laugh, seeing your usually strict and discipline boss now all loose and giggly. 

Then he leans. Perhaps a little too close to you. Yet you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind when he swayed, pointing to your face, smiling stupidly with his alcohol reeked breath. “Youu…”

“You are… so amazing, you know that…?”

Hm? 

Come again?

You waved your hand as you chuckled, looking away to hide that small flush of pinkness on your cheeks. “I think you’ve had way too many for tonight, sir.”

“S’ Tenyaaa,” He whined, leaning closer to you. “Stop calling me sir, y/n…” 

You stifled back a laugh, rolling your eyes as you sighed. “Fiine, fine,”

“Tenya, I think you’ve had your fair share of alcohol for tonight.” 

He leans his head to the side, pushing the counter with his weight. His eyes downcast and hazy, he smiled softly to you. “You think so?” 

A small chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head. “I know so, si—Tenya.”

The table scraped softly as you pushed a small glass of water to him, clinking the glass with the back of your finger. “Maybe some water would do you good.” You smiled, nudging the glass once more to get his attention to it.

Then he smiles, leaning his head upon the counter with his arms below his chin. His eyes hazily looked into yours, as if he was…admiring you. His smile grew before his hand reached out, moving away a loose strand of hair off your face. It was soft, gentle, tender. Something you would never expect from the stiff and professional Tenya Iida. From your own boss. 

His touch lingered a moment on the side of your cheek, he tucked his hand away again beneath his chin before he spoke, “You…”

“How are you this radiant…?” He murmured quietly, head tilting just slightly as he narrowed his eyes in awe. 

The loud and chattering bar seemed to quiet down at that moment, while the heat in your cheeks rose up. You cleared your throat, pushing the glass towards him again with your face turned to the other way. “Drink some water, Tenya.” You reminded, brushing him off. 

A low chuckle was what you heard, along with fabric shuffling softly as he stood up again, still leaning to the counter top. “You’re ignoring me.” He said, amusement lacing his tone. 

“No, I’m reminding you, Tenya.”

“...You’re caring for me,” He smiled. Sure, you weren’t looking at him, but that small change in his tone was recognizable. Yet this one wasn’t really heard much by you. It was small, subtle, yet there was a tone of admiration in it. Like someone saying ‘Aww’. 

You scoffed, turning your head to look at him again. “I always do,” Well maybe you shouldn’t have said that. 

…

…

Ahem! The bar stool croaked through the floor as you stood up, collecting your bag and coat. 

“I’ll be calling that a night, Tenya.” You slipped out a small greeting, smiling to his still-leaning form.

His face dropped to a small frown, almost a pout. “You’re leaving…?” His question sounded more like a weak plea. Disappointed and sad about your farewell. 

You chuckled as you zipped your bag up. “Yes, Tenya.”

“Tomorrow I still need to be in the office.” You teased, tilting your head slightly as you smiled at him. 

“...I also need to be in the office, I’m your boss.” He scoffed, his tone cocky and proud.

“Exactly,”

Putting your coat back on, you rattled the keys of your car in your hand, sinking it into the pockets. You clutched your bag, straightening up your posture while you brush yourself off before bowing to him. “Goodnight, Tenya.”

“...Get home safe, okay?” You smiled, turning away to walk towards the exit. 

Darn you and your soothing voice. Darn you and your smile. Darn you. His gaze stayed pinpointed on you even as you opened the doors of the bar to exit it, walking with that pace he’s grown to know too well. Steady steps with sureness, like you always had somewhere to be. The smile crept back onto his face. His gaze drifted back to the glass of water as he huffed a chuckle, grabbing it into his hand before sipping it. 

With a slow shake of his head, he let out another chuckle, softer this time. 

“Little minx.."

dworkism | do not repost!

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‎○˳ ‎ ‎ P l a i n l i n e d i v i d e r s﹒﹒꒱

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꒰ ‎﹒ made by me﹒like and reblog to use﹒𝒢𓍢

⋆. 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!

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⋆˚࿔ in the near future

when window shopping at the mall with your boyfriend hanta sero takes a unexpected turn

contains: f!reader, minor drug use, established relationship, fluff

authors note: this is shorter than i wanted it to be </3

word count: 1010

hanta doesn’t know how he ended up here.

it was supposed to be a casual saturday with this favorite girl in the world.

when you suggested that the two of you take a trip to the mall, mostly so you could window shop, —while he secretly kept a mental note of everything that caught your eye for later reference —he had no right to say no.

and when you also suggested taking the edibles that had been sitting at the bottom of the junk drawer for two days and eating them right before the mall trip his heart melted. he’s definitely with the right girl.

okay, so maybe hanta does know how he got here.

but this.. this is new, uncharted territory for him. for the both of you.

hanta adjusted his half slouched position, careful not to possibly mess up the intricate stitching on the cushions or accidently stain the elegant rug beneath his beat up adidas sambas.

the room was fairly spacious. beside him a wide full length mirror, was two thinner mirrors protruding from its side— which he (correctly) assumed was used to check yourself out from multiple angles. two lights hung from the top of the mirrors, shining down onto the pedestal in front the mirror like a dedicated spotlight.

before him was a white curtain. and behind it—

“hanta..” you called from behind the mysteriously alluring sheet, sounding unlawfully similar to a sorcerer casting a lovebound spell.

he blinked out of his over observant trance, skin glowing warm as a reaction to your voice.

fifteen minutes ago, he was sharing a beautifully buttery soft pretzel with you. ten minutes ago you pointed out a particular shop, one he had never even noticed before.

“come on hanta! it’ll be fun!” you pleaded.

and call hanta a sucker (because he is one) but he didn’t even give it a second— or first, really —thought.

he’ll blame the weed for that later.

you spend a while with the consultant at the front desk where hanta learned that you’re a concerningly good liar.

and now here he was. long fingers pulling back the curtain in which you stood behind.

“help me with the back?” you glanced back at him, hair tossed to one side of your neck as you held the dress up in front to prevent it from slipping down.

hanta nodded cautiously, taking a careful step toward you.

“7 years?” hanta teased, recalling your conversation with the worker as he took a stance behind you. the familiar warmth from his hands instantly radiated your skin as he kept a firm, but delicate, grip on your back. his fingertips pressed into the blades of your shoulders and you heard a soft zurrrt admitting from the zipper.

you grinned, “call me a prophecy.”

a small laugh escaped hanta lips and your smile grew wider. you now realized how the edible made everything feel softer— like the edges of the world had blurred just enough to allow the good moments to sink in deeper.

hanta took a step back, hand slowly departing from you. his eyes scanned down your body slowly like he didn’t wanna forget anything about the way you looked right in this instant. “you—“ he paused to cough away the slight raspy in his voice, “you should look.” he gestured back out toward the spotlight of the dressing room.

you nodded, picking up the dress from its sides and waddling out from behind the curtain onto the lit up pedestal. when your gaze finally met your own in the mirrors reflection, you stilted.

the dress was simple, strapless, and effortlessly elegant— soft fabric flowing down in gentle waves that brushed the floor like a sea's daily meetings with its shore. lace details traced the bodice and edged the hem. the white fabric sparkled, like it was made to bask in the sunlight and flow to the rhythm of slow dances.

like it was made for you.

“woah.” your voice was submerged in awe. you were careful, ghosting the tips of your fingers over the material of the dress, not wanting to risk messing it up.

you’ve never seen yourself like this before, never really imagine it either. there’s a feeling of wonder fluttering beneath the surface of your skin, flickers of questions tickling your consciousness along with it. it felt so good in a way you couldn’t quite describe with just words.

“yeah.” hanta spoke up from close behind you. his eyes followed the trail of the wedding dress as he took a step closer, rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide the stupid grin spreading across his face. “am i supposed to be seeing this?” he joked lightly. his hands found themselves comfortably on the small dip at your hip, his head leaning beside your temple as he looked at you through the mirror.

“you’re not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony..” you played along, hoping it would help you calm down from the fact that you felt like an literal angel.

“hm, i see why.” hanta’s grip on you tightened, just barely. his voice dropped, coated in a soft layer of truth. “you look beautiful. so unbelievably beautiful.” he pressed a kiss to your temple, then the tip of your ear, and then took a step back. “now you gotta spin for me.” he said, grinning ear to ear. “come on babe.”

you rolled your eyes but complied, picking up the sides of the gown and granting your lovestruck boyfriend the full 360 view.

within a second, hanta’s hands were on you again, head buried in the crook of your neck as he held you close. you could feel the way his lips quirked up on your skin as he muttered a quiet, “insane.”

maybe this moment, this dress, belonged to some future version of you— to both of you.

maybe hanta didn’t know exactly how he managed to get with the girl of his dreams. and he definitely didn’t how he’d get to a more official version of this moment in the future.

and maybe this moment wasn’t destined or now, but it was for later, and hanta knew that for sure.

♬⋆.˚ — 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

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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

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