Okay okay, just a short, sfw, fluffy #seroroki thing to get the writing juices going.
Hanta remembers the first time he saw Shouto.
He was beautiful, striking red and white hair so silky he wanted to run his hands through it. A scar that defined his face so well.
His eyes were piercing; cold, hard gaze that penetrated Hanta’s core and took his breath away.
He wasn’t one to gawk at someone, but /wow/. Shouto was intense, hard to read and at times downright scary. He told the boys that his goal was to get Shouto to laugh before year 3.
And really, he wasn’t joking. He truly wanted to be the reason why Shouto’s laugh rang throughout the halls, or the cause of patches of pink painted on Shouto’s cheeks. He wanted to break through that shell.
He wanted to call Shouto, his.
It started off slow, holding Shouto’s books as he bent down to tie his shoe. Then lazy touches passing along pencils, erasers, notes, then phones to exchange numbers.
It was gradual, slow-building. Shouto frightens easily, and Hanta even more so.
He initiated texts, memes at first to break the ice. And /man/, was Shouto funny. His deadpan humor was unshakeable, sometimes at the expense of his father or Bakugo, but it was /easy/. To talk to him, to be with him, to love him.
And when jokes became tinged with flirting, Hanta’s stomach fluttered with butterflies trying to escape.
Touches became intentional, lingering. Fingertips grazing the back of one another’s hands. The squeezing of shoulders became bolder.
This thing with Shouto, whatever it was, was heavy and intoxicating and /alive/, and Hanta wanted to stroke the fire, waiting for flames to arise, his signal that Shouto wanted it too. That he was just as enthralled as Hanta was and wanted to see it flourish.
That too, came with time. Shouto reached for him and never let go. Talks in the hallway became longer talks in his room. He became braver, tucking Hanta’s hair back when it was too long, or resting his head on Hanta’s shoulder.
To anyone, it could have been seen as two close friends. But to Hanta, he saw the strikes of life behind Shouto’s eyes, the warmth chiseled into his laugh, still raspy because it was new and /alive/.
He doesn’t know who moved first under the moonlight
after being away from each other for 3 weeks too long, but he was thankful regardless, as warm lips pressed to his own, sealing the deal. Shouto was /it/ for him.
Even now, years down the road and many shared nights later, Hanta still finds Shouto beautiful. He gets to trace his husband’s face with slightly worn fingertips, and he can press as many kisses to the smooth skin as he wants.
His favorite part though, is that he is a major part of why Shouto smiles every day, and why his laughter can be heard a block away.
He runs his fingers through longer, thicker, red and white hair and smiles as sleepy eyelids unveil blue and gray eyes, softly admiring Hanta.
There’s a crinkle in his eyes now, laugh lines ever present.
He’s so damn beautiful.
Hanta leans forward and kisses those soft, warm lips, much like he did all those years ago.
“Good morning, Sho.”
Just a tiny, sleep deprived thing! Of course no edits because that’s just what happens here sometimes.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think 🥰 QRT’s, comments, or DM’s are all very nifty!
Goodnight, y’all!
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