Um… I Wrote Some Spicy Headcannons… I Uhhh 🙉

O read the sal x reader fic you posted where they go to the lake, I'm obsessed. Can I have the same scenario but with Larry x reader? Larry would be exactly like he is in the reffered fanfic but instead of sal, it's him who's in live with reader. Does that make sense?

Sorry for any typos, and thanks in advance :))

Larry Johnson X Reader

˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊ BIKINI KILL ˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊

masterlist

i tried to make this a little different i feel Larry would have a more sillier relationship with the reader.

Legend

PunkGoddess: The reader

Constantine: Sal

Y/n’s Wife : Ash

Homophobe (liar) : Todd

skidmark : Larry

———

Group Chat Name: Ghostbusters ‼️‼️‼️

———

[1:32 PM] punk goddess: GUYS. GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS. Emergency.

[1:32 PM] skidmark: what did u break this time?

[1:33 PM] Y/n’s Wife: If it’s your microwave again, I’m not lending you mine.

[1:33 PM] punk goddess: EXCUSE YOU. that was ONE TIME and the hot dog exploded FIRST.

[1:33 PM] homophobe (liar): I feel like there’s context missing here, but I also don’t want it.

[1:34 PM] punk goddess: Okay okay but LISTEN!! I had a vision. A prophecy. A divine revelation from the universe itself.

[1:34 PM] Constantine: You had a Red Bull, didn’t you?

[1:34 PM] punk goddess: Yes. And also: LET’S GO TO THE LAKE. TODAY. RIGHT NOW. potential skinny dipping if Larry gets too confident let’s do it.

[1:35 PM] skidmark: why am I always dragged into ur crimes also bold of u to assume I’d get too confident i was born confident, baby

[1:35 PM] punk goddess: Oh really?? Confident enough to jump in wearing nothing

[1:35 PM] skidmark: you tryna get me naked or what?

[1:36 PM] Y/n’s Wife: …I feel like I walked into something I shouldn’t be seeing.

[1:36 PM] homophobe (liar): I second that.

[1:36 PM] punk goddess: Don’t act like y’all are innocent. Todd, I saw the way you looked at that mannequin in the mall.

[1:37 PM] homophobe (liar): That was ONE TIME. And it startled me, I thought it was a real person.

[1:37 PM] punk goddess: Sureeeee. Anyway. LAKE. Yes or yes?

[1:38 PM] Constantine: Honestly, it’s not a bad idea. Could be fun to get out of town for a bit. Music, water, no ghosts…

[1:38 PM] skidmark: Speak for urself. I’m bringing my speaker AND a cursed cassette tape.

[1:38 PM] Y/n’s Wife: I’m down. But someone better bring actual food this time. Not just whatever radioactive energy drink Larry always packs.

[1:39 PM] skidmark: ur just jealous of my neon piss

[1:39 PM] punk goddess: I will bring snacks. I’ll even cut up fruit and pretend I’m a responsible adult.

[1:40 PM] Constantine: Make sure to pack sunscreen too. We’re all way too pale for this idea.

[1:40 PM] punk goddess: Speak for yourself. I tan like a goddess. Larry tans like a confused lobster.

[1:41 PM] skidmark: wow stab me harder why dont u

[1:41 PM] punk goddess: KINKY.

[1:41 PM] Y/n’s Wife: EW STOP

[1:42 PM] homophobe (liar): Too late. The damage is done.

[1:42 PM] Constantine: So… we’re actually doing this?

[1:42 PM] punk goddess: HELL YEAH. I’m already putting together a playlist called “Drown the dogs.”

[1:43 PM] skidmark: can’t wait to be blinded by ur trash taste in music

[1:43 PM] punk goddess: Can’t wait to see you shirtless. Wait what? Who said that?

[1:43 PM] Y/n’s Wife: You did. Just now.

[1:44 PM] punk goddess: Suspicious. Anyway, we’re meeting at my place in an hour. Don’t flake or I’ll come to your houses and cry aggressively.

[1:44 PM] homophobe (liar): Noted.

[1:44 PM] Constantine: I’ll bring drinks.

[1:45 PM] skidmark: I’ll bring my devilish charm.

[1:45 PM] punk goddess: That and swim trunks Larry PLEAse.

[1:45 PM] Y/n’s Wife: you both have such a hard on for each other

[1:46 PM] punk goddess: See you soon, you filthy gremlins!

————

Sprawled out sideways on Larry’s bed, you turned over, pressing your cheek against the cool blanket as you glanced at the two boys across the room. Larry was sitting cross legged on the floor, sketchbook in his lap, glancing up at you with one brow raised. Sal was lounging against the wall nearby, hands in his hoodie pockets, quiet and observant as always. The light filtering through the window hit just right, and everything felt kind of… perfect.

You grinned. “guys im shitting bricks im so excited”

Sal smiled faintly under his mask. “I cant say im not, its good to be outside”

“I regret nothing,” you replied, kicking your legs a little. “This lake thing it’s gonna be good, right? Like, really good.”

Larry looked up. “Yeah. It’ll be cool to get out of town for a bit. Been a while since we all hung out like that.”

You sat up, tugging your patched up jacket around your shoulders. “It’s been forever since I went out into the water. Not like, feet dangling off a dock. I mean swimming. ”

Sal gave a small laugh. “You guys definitely have fun with that I still might sit on the side.”

You turned to face them both fully now, eyes bright. “One day ill have you in the water, count your days, l’m seriously so excited. Like absurdly. I didn’t even realize how much I missed this kind of stuff.” Then suddenly, your eyes widened. “Wait.”

Larry blinked. “Uh oh.”

“WAIT,” you repeated, bolting upright like you’d been struck by lightning. “I have to get ready. I gotta oh my god I need to go home right now”. You were vibrating, practically bouncing in place, the tips of your spiked choker jingling with every movement. “I gotta get stuff. I gotta have snacks, floaties, my underwater speaker WHERE’S MY STUPID SPIDER MAN TOWEL?!”

Sal tilted his head. “We’re not leaving yet.”

“Exactly! Which means I have time to overprepare!” you jumped to your feet, pacing toward the door. Oh my god, I need to clean my portable speaker. What if it’s still got sand in it from the last time?!”

“my girl chillax,” Larry said, watching you with amusement.

“I live in a constant state of prepared, thank you,” you replied dramatically, You dashed for the door, but not before stopping in your tracks like a cartoon character slamming on invisible brakes. You whipped around and made a beeline for Sal.

“Come here, Blue Boy.”

He blinked. “Uh what ”

You grabbed the sides of his head with both hands, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to the mouth of his mask with a big dramatic MWAH. Sal just sat there, stunned, eyes wide beneath his bangs. “That’s for being pretty,” you said with a wink, then turned to Larry, who immediately raised his hands.

“Oh no. Nope. Keep those lips away ”

“TOO LATE, BABYGIRL.”

You lunged forward, grabbed his face like he was made of Play Doh, and squished his cheeks so hard his lips puckered like a goldfish. Then you smooched his cheek with obnoxious enthusiasm.

“BLESSINGS UPON YOUR SOUL,” you declared like a cryptid giving gifts before returning to the woods.

“Jesus” Larry wiped his face with his sleeve. “You’re outta your damn mind.”

You shot finger guns at them both as you bolted through the door. “ILL SEE YOU BOTH IN A HOUR! GET PIZZA OR SOMETHING!!! LARRY I TRUST YOULL GET ME THE WHITE MONSTER”

The door slammed behind you, your boots stomping down the hallway like the drums of war. There was silence for a second. Larry and Sal just sat there, blinking.

“…I’m gonna kill her,” Larry muttered.

Sal tilted his head, still a little pink. “You’re smiling.”

“…shut up.”

The sun shimmered on the lake’s surface, soft waves lapping against the shore while the portable speaker played something upbeat in the background. You were out by the edge, ankle deep in the water, sunglasses perched on your head and a towel wrapped around your hips, laughing at something Ash was saying as she lobbed a pebble into the water.

Back up on the grass, Sal and Larry were sitting near the cooler under the shade of a tree, both half watching the others with lazy contentment. Sal sipped from a can of soda, the eyes behind his mask glinting with mischief. “You know,” he said casually, “it’s kinda funny.”

Larry glanced over. “What is?”

“You got a kiss on the cheek…” Sal tilted his head, then lightly tapped the front of his mask. “I got one on the mouth.”

Larry squinted. “Don’t start.”

Sal leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “I dunno, man. Felt kinda intimate. Real sweet. Thought maybe I should shoot my shot. Might be stealing your girl.”

Larry choked on his own drink. “She’s not my girl!” Sal just hummed. Larry rubbed his hand over his face, groaning. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re so jealous,” Sal said calmly, smiling behind the mask.

“I am not.” Larry scowled, even though his ears had turned the faintest shade of pink. “It was a joke. She’s like that with everyone.”

“Sure,” Sal said, taking another sip. “Believe what you wanna believe but calls you sexy punk god?.”

Larry blinked. “Wait she said that?”

“No,” Sal said, then smirked. “But I did. In the group chat. Changed her name. ‘Punk Goddess of the Apocalypse.’ Go check.”

Larry grabbed his phone instantly, thumbs flying.

Sal chuckled again. “Told you.”

Larry stared at the screen. Sure enough, her contact had been changed in the group chat to: PUNK GODDESS OF THE APOCALYPSE.

“Okay…” Larry leaned back, trying to act chill but definitely failing. “Okay, but like… that’s fair. Because she is. She’s got the look”

“So you do agree with me,” Sal said, amused.

Larry laughed under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “Id have to be on the hard stuff to not believe that but even so I'd still find her beautiful”

“Oh?” He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting back toward the water where you were now trying to balance on a slippery rock and muttering curses under your breath. “She’s the whole damn package you know? Like if a Molotov cocktail wore fishnets and had a laugh that made you think about your life choices”

Sal gave a low hum, listening. “She’s punk in the real way,” Larry continued, tone softening. “Not just the clothes. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks, she’s loud when she wants to be, soft when she feels like it, and she’s got this weird thing where she always knows what to say when I’m spiraling. Like… she gets it. And she’s so goddamn cool it makes me feel stupid.”

Sal tilted his head. “a lot of thoughts right there”

“Dude.” Larry scoffed. “She’s like… cool in a ‘rips cigs on rooftops at 3 a.m. while yelling at the moon’ kinda way. She throws glitter in people’s faces and then tells them to eat shit. That's kind of cool.”

Sal snorted. “That’s specific.”

“I’ve thought about it.”

Larry took another sip, then ran a hand through his hair again. “And she’s hot, man. Like, obnoxiously hot. Those lips? I want those all over me FOR THAT MATTER! i want to be all over her. she always smells like smoke and strawberry lip balm, which shouldn’t be sexy but somehow it is. She wears these stupid little chain belts that don’t hold up anything and her boots could crush me and I’d thank her for it.”

Sal let out a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really in it,.”

“I’m drowning,” Larry muttered while grabbing sals arms. “I’ve been drowning. She could say my name and I’d bark.”

Sal shook his head, amused. “You ever gonna tell her?”

Larry scoffed. “Yeah, let me just walk up and say, ‘Hey, hot sexy amazing mamacita of my dreams, wanna kiss me on the actual mouth this time instead of my fish lips face squish?.”

“You could try,” Sal offered, almost helpful. “She might surprise you.”

Larry threw his head back. “Nah. I’m the best friend. The face smushing, cheek kissing best friend. That’s my role in the grand narrative.”

Sal tilted his head, watching him. “it doesn't have to be like that I dont think”

Larry’s ears were on fire now. “Shut up.”

“Not judging. Just… interesting.”

“Whatever, man.” Larry tossed a twig toward him. “You’re just trying to mess with me.”

Sal snorted again. Larry looked back toward you, eyes softening. You had finally succeeded in climbing the rock and were now dramatically posing like a pirate with one boot in the air, yelling something about claiming the lake in the name of emotional damage. He laughed quietly to himself. “god theres not a lot to not love about her.”

“You’re pathetic,” Sal said without looking up, fiddling with the speaker’s volume.

“Thanks, man,” Larry muttered, still sprawled in the grass, one arm over his face like the sun itself had betrayed him. “Really appreciate the emotional support.” Before Sal could retort, a shadow passed over them followed by a familiar voice, all sunshine and danger.

“Okay, it’s so hot I’m pretty sure I’m about to melt into soup.”

Larry’s arm immediately dropped from his face. You stood above them, grinning wide, sunglasses sliding down your nose, hands on your hips. Your jacket was already off and your boots half unlaced.

“Water time,” you declared, toeing off the rest of your shoes. “This goth goblin’s about to be a lake nymph.”

Larry blinked once. Then twice. And then you were tugging your shirt up, peeling it off in one smooth, unbothered motion. His brain stopped immediately. You weren’t even doing anything on purpose you were just trying not to trip on your own pants while laughing about how they were sticking to your thighs but Larry was gone. Fully lost. Mentally kicked in the gut. Your bikini was black with silver safety pin accents, and paired with your tattoos and bedhead hair, you looked like the final boss in a sexy horror game.

Sal side eyed him. “Don’t pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Larry wheezed.

“You’re red.” “I’m sunburned.” “It’s only been fifteen minutes.” “Genetics.”

You stretched with a groan, arms overhead, hips swaying slightly as you let the sun hit your skin. Larry stared like he was about to have a heatstroke. Then, suddenly, you turned to him with that familiar little grin, sharp and playful.

“Alright, come on, Trash Prince.” You crouched and tugged at his wrist. “You’re coming in with me.”

“Wha wait hey ” Larry barely had time to sit up before you were already trying to drag him to his feet, hands clutching his.

“I am not letting you sit around being all hot and bothered under this tree while I get lake water up my nose alone.”

“I’m not hot,” Larry blurted, flustered.

“Oh, shut up, you totally are,” you said, eyes glittering as you yanked on his arm again.

Larry stumbled a little, brain short circuiting. “Wait hold on before I go get absolutely murdered by the lake, I, uh ” He dug into the cooler beside him, half panicked. “I brought you something.”

You paused, curious. “For me?”

He pulled out the offering like it was some sacred relic. “White Monster. Your holy grail.” You gasped like you’d been handed a family heirloom made of diamonds.

“No. No way.” You dropped to your knees beside him like it was a goddamn proposal. “You legend. You absolute feral prince.” And without hesitation, you launched yourself forward and hugged him, arms around his shoulders, your bare skin pressed against his shirt as you squeezed him.

Larry’s entire body locked up like a cursed doll.

“Oh my god, I love you,” you mumbled into his neck, practically in his lap now. “You understand me on a spiritual level.”

Larry’s soul left his body. Your thigh was across his, your chest lightly pressed to him, and you smelled like sunscreen and sweat and that fucking hint of strawberry lip balm. His hands hovered awkwardly midair like he didn’t know where to put them without catching on fire.

“I uh I ” he stammered.

You pulled back, cupping his cheeks. “Larry. Lawrence. Lorenzo Von Hot Topic. I am going to cannonball with that Monster in my hand and scream your name.”

Sal, still nearby, snorted so hard he nearly dropped his phone.

Larry, beet red and wide eyed, coughed into his fist. “Y’know, if you wanted to straddle me and yell my name, there are… simpler ways.”

You grinned like a demon. “Down, boy.”

Larry gave a strangled laugh, caught somewhere between aroused panic and blessed euphoria. You winked, then finally stood and popped the Monster open, chugging half of it with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Alright! Now I’m ready to raise hell.” And with that, you skipped toward the lake.

Larry groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

He stood up slowly, like he’d just been hit with emotional whiplash, and started pulling off his shirt, shaking out his hair and kicking off his boots. He grumbled under his breath the whole time, tossing his wallet chain onto the towel beside Sal. As he tugged off his jeans and stood there in swim trunks, Sal gave a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t know you were packing ‘lake dad’ abs under there.”

Larry shot him a flat look. “Shut up.”

Sal held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying at this rate, you two are gonna end up making out in the lake and I’m gonna need to leave out of respect.”

Larry flipped him off, already walking backward toward the water. “Yaya. Suck my toes, Sal.”

“Hard pass,” Sal called, chuckling.

The lake water was cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the blazing sun above. It hit just above your waist now, rippling gently around you as you waded in deeper, squinting against the brightness. Behind you, a loud splash erupted as Larry finally threw himself in arms flailing, long hair whipping as he surfaced with a dramatic gasp.

“Hell yeah!” he shouted.“I told you!” you said, spinning to face him. “Nature rules!”

He swam closer, a grin creeping across his face. “You gonna baptize me in lake water now, thou Pope of Punk?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No. I’m gonna drown you.”

And with zero hesitation, you lunged at him. Water sloshed violently as Larry ducked and caught you mid pounce, both of you nearly tipping over in a mess of limbs and splashes. You laughed so hard it echoed across the lake. Back on the shore, Sal, Ash, and Todd sat on a shared towel, watching with amusement. Sal had his knees up, hands resting over them, calm as ever. Ash leaned on his shoulder, chewing on a piece of watermelon, while Todd filmed the chaos on his phone.

“Ten bucks says one of them actually drowns,” Ash said, chuckling.

Sal tilted his head. “I think we’re just witnessing some fucked up version of foreplay.”

Todd didn’t look up. “I’m sending this video to Larry’s mom.”

Back in the water, you were locked in a play fight with Larry, both of you laughing, slipping, pushing each other only to catch one another at the last second. He grabbed your wrist and tried to drag you under gently, only for you to twist away, reach down, and pull up a long, slimy string of lakeweed.

“Oh no,” Larry said instantly. “Don’t you dare.”

You were already laughing too hard to be stopped. With perfect aim, you flung the soggy green mess through the air. It hit Larry right on the head slapping wetly and then staying there like a wig.

“LARRY! You look like a sexy swamp witch!”

“WHY is it sticking?!”

“You’ve been chosen!” You nearly fell over again, clutching your stomach from laughing so hard. “I can’t breathe, it's in your hair!”

Larry flopped forward, grabbing another handful of lakeweed. “You’re gonna regret this.”

“OH SHIT !”

Cue full on water war wrestling, neither of you winning, but neither of you wanting to stop either. Your laughter mixed with his, echoing off the lake surface like music.

Back on the beach, Sal looked to Ash and Todd. “You think they’re ever gonna just admit it?”

Ash shook her head. “Not a chance. We’re gonna have to hold a intervention.”

Todd smirked. “With PowerPoint slides.”

Sal nodded. “Title: ‘Just Kiss Already.’”

And in the water, Larry was still yelling something incoherent about vengeance while you tackled him again, both of you soaked and breathless, but smiling like idiots the whole time. The sun was starting to dip lower now, turning the lake golden. The heat had softened, and a lazy breeze skimmed the surface of the water as the group’s laughter finally died down.

Ash stretched with a yawn from where she lounged near the cooler. “Alright, freaks. I’m officially waterlogged and sun kissed. We’re heading out.”

You stopped halfway through dunking Larry and looked toward shore. “Aww, really? You guys suck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Todd said as he stood, brushing grass off his shorts. “Try not to summon any demons while we’re gone.”

“No promises!” you called back, saluting with two fingers and a grin.

Sal slung a bag over his shoulder, flashing his usual lowkey smile. “Don’t get arrested. Or possessed.”

“Those are both on you,” Larry shot back, swimming backward toward you.

Ash winked as she turned. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Which, to be fair, isn’t much.”

You flipped her off lovingly. “Love you too, wife.”

One by one, your friends started heading back up the hill, chatting and laughing faintly as they disappeared past the trees. A little bit of quiet settled over the lake. The distant sounds of birds and the ripple of water returned. You turned back to Larry, floating lazily next to you now, hair slicked back and that seaweed still hanging from one ear.

“Well,” you said, drawing your hands through the water. “It’s just us now.”

Larry lifted a brow, his voice all drawl. “So it is. What ever will we do.”

You snorted, lightly kicking water toward him. “Careful. Alone time with me has been known to cause heart palpitations.”

He smirked, but there was something softer under it now something quieter. “I’ll take the risk.” You drifted beside each other for a few moments, water gently moving around your shoulders, both of you letting the silence stretch in that way it only can when it’s comfortable.

Then, you looked over at him, head tilted. “Thanks for staying.”

Larry met your gaze, slower now. “Yeah… ‘course.”

You were both quiet again, but something had shifted. The sun was brushing your cheekbones with gold, making your skin look warm and bright, and Larry found himself biting his cheek to keep from blurting out anything stupid. “I like this,” you said finally, voice a little softer than before. “Just… being here. With you.”

Larry stared for a second. “Yeah. Me too.”

You turned to float on your back, sighing. “It’s been a while since everything felt like… not too much.”

He let his eyes linger on you your silhouette against the setting sun, the little smile on your lips. “With you,” he said under his breath, “everything’s just the right amount of too much.”

You cracked an eye open. “What was that?”

Larry immediately splashed water at you. “Nothing. Shut up.”

You sputtered and lunged at him again, laughing like always but that little warmth stayed tucked between you both, like the lake itself had caught on and wasn’t quite ready to let the day end just yet. The lake was quieter now. The sun had nearly dipped behind the tree line, casting long, warm shadows across the water. The surface shimmered gold, broken only by the lazy ripples around you and Larry.

You swam up behind him silently, arms slipping around his bare waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. Larry blinked, startled for half a second before relaxing into your hold. His heart was pounding like a damn kick drum in his chest. You were so warm behind him, body pressed gently to his, the kind of closeness that meant everything and nothing depending on what it was.

that’s what was killing him. He tilted his head slightly, eyes fixed on the lake horizon. He thought about all the times you teased him. The way you always called him hot. How you clung to him, ruffled his hair, kissed his cheek, left him breathless in a hundred different ways but never said what it all meant.

His fingers flexed a little in the water. He could hear Sal’s voice in his head. “it doesn't have to be like that I dont think”

Larry exhaled, his voice low and careful. “Hey.”

You hummed. “Mmh?”

“What is this?”

You blinked. “What’s what?”

“This.” He shifted just slightly in your hold. “Us. You and me.”

You slowly floated around to face him, confused. “Larry, what are you ?”

“I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, wet hair sticking to his fingers. His eyes were darting anywhere but you now. “All the flirting. The kissing. Is it just, like… for fun? Just for shits? Or do you actually… y’know… mean any of it?”

You blinked at him for a second. Really looking at him now. His brows were furrowed, his lips tight, but behind all that sarcasm and swagger, he looked scared. Scared of being the only one who’d fallen too hard. You didn’t answer with words at first. Instead, you swam in close, arms sliding up over his shoulders, fingers locking behind his neck. His breath caught instantly, chest stilling beneath the surface of the water.

You looked at him gently now, eyes soft, voice calm in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. “Larry… you’re not a joke to me.” He stared. “You’re everything I’ve wanted. Youre so fucking weird. I love the music you play. The dumb little drawings. The way you yell when you lose at Mario Kart.” You grinned. “The way you look at me like I built the whole damn sky.”

His lips parted, but nothing came out. You leaned in a little closer.

“I flirt with you because I can’t help it. I kiss your cheek because I’m not brave enough to kiss your mouth. But I want to. I’ve wanted to for a long time.” Larry was frozen. Staring at you like you’d just flipped the entire planet on its head. “Are you gonna say something,” you teased softly, “or just stand there looking like a drowned deer?”

Larry let out a choked, breathy laugh relieved, still processing.

“I just…” He swallowed. “I thought I was being an idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” you whispered, grinning. “But you’re my idiot.”

He smiled then. Really smiled. The kind he rarely let anyone see.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded, foreheads nearly touching now. “Yeah.”

And with the sun melting behind you and the water still as glass, Larry leaned in finally closing the space the two of you had been dancing around for years.

Present Mic / Hizashi Yamada x Reader

⋆˚✿˖°Irresistible ⋆˚✿˖°

BACK TO HIM DATING A YOUNGER READER!! hes just so lovely, we are married actually.

Being back at U.A. always felt a little surreal. No matter how many years had passed since your time as a student, the halls still carried the same energy, the same excitement, the same faint scent of ink and sweat, the same distant shouts of students causing trouble. It was nostalgic, sure, but today, you weren’t here as a student.

You’d agreed to be a guest speaker at U.A. today, mainly to share your experience as a Pro Hero with the students. It was a bit of a casual visit, with no intense expectations, just a way to inspire the next generation of heroes. Of course, Hizashi, Present Mic was assigned to show you around for the day.

Today, you were here as Pro Hero: Lumine, a guest for the day. Still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t steal a moment for yourself.

As you walked the halls, Hizashi right beside you, you kept up the act, casual, professional. You were here to speak to a few classes, answer some questions, maybe help out with some training. But right now, with no students or teachers in sight, you saw an opportunity.

You grabbed Hizashi’s wrist and pulled him around a quiet corner, just out of sight.

“Whoa babe?” he blinked, confused for a second, before a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “Miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “You know I don’t get to see you much when I’m busy with work.”

His grin softened. “Yeah… I know.”

You let your hands rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was rare for the two of you to have moments like this. where the world outside didn’t demand your attention, where you weren’t constantly on duty, where you weren’t Pro Hero Lumine and Present Mic but just… y/n and hizashi.

Hizashi leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his voice quieter than usual. “You sure we got time for this?”

“Barely,” you admitted. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

He chuckled, sliding his arms around your waist. “Y’know, you’re gettin’ real bold. Pullin’ me into a corner like some kinda secret rendezvous.”

You smirked. “What can I say? I see a tall blonde guy and my mind goes dumb”

“Really now, huh?” His voice dropped just a little, teasing. “So if I kissed you right now, would that be too exciting?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm… depends. Are you gonna be able to keep your voice down?”

“Oh, babe,” he grinned, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your lips. “That’s a real big ask.”

You huffed a laugh before finally closing the distance, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against his lips. Hizashi hummed in contentment, pulling you closer as if he could somehow make the moment last longer.

But the sound of voices approaching had you both reluctantly pulling apart. He sighed dramatically. “Duty calls, huh?”

“Duty calls,” you echoed, straightening his tie playfully. “Try not to look too lovestruck, yeah?”

“Pfft—too late for that, babe.” He winked before stepping back, adjusting his glasses like nothing had happened. But you caught the way his fingers brushed his lips, as if memorizing the feeling.

With one last glance, you turned the corner together back to being professionals, back to your roles, back to the world outside of this stolen moment. But as you stepped into the light, you knew you’d both be thinking about it all day. Though Hizashi kept up his usual energy as he led you through the halls, chatting away as he pointed out minor changes to the school since your time as a student. The occasional student would recognize you, whispering excitedly to their friends, but no one interrupted. Not yet, anyway.

Eventually, you both reached Class 1-A’s door. Hizashi grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Ready to meet the little hero’s ?”

You huffed a small laugh. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” Then, without missing a beat, he flung the door open and practically bounced into the room. “YEAHHHH! WHAT’S UP, CLASS 1-A?! GUESS WHO I BROUGHT?” a collective gasp followed.

“Wait! that’s Pro Hero Lumine!”

“No way! They’re here?”

“Whoa, they’re so cool in person!”

Hizashi gestured toward you with a dramatic flourish. “That’s riiiiight! The one and only Lumine!” He shot you a look, and you barely held back a smirk.

Aizawa, standing at the front of the class, gave you both a blank stare, then sighed. “I assume you’re not just here to disrupt my class?”

“Aw, c’mon, Eraser, you know we had a guest today!!” Hizashi had a tragic frown on his face. “Lumine here is our guest speaker, remember?”

Aizawa raised a brow at you, and you simply shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride at this point.”

As you stepped forward, Hizashi continued, “Now, listen up, kiddos! Not only is Lumine one of the youngest Top 10 heroes—”

“—he’s really over explaining right now,” you interjected.

“—BUT!” Hizashi continued dramatically, ignoring your interruption, “they also happen to be my—”

You stiffened. Your what?

Luckily (or unluckily), Aizawa cut in smoothly, “Your former student. Yes, we’re aware.”

Hizashi blinked, then coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, yeah, my former student. That’s what I was gonna say.”

The students exchanged looks. Some, like Kaminari and Mina, were eyeing you both very suspiciously.

Mina leaned forward, grinning. “Ooooh, that pause was kinda weird, wasn’t it?”

Kaminari elbowed her. “Right? Like, what was he actually gonna say?”

“Probably something embarrassing,” Jirou muttered, smirking.

You shot Hizashi a look. Really? He gave you a sheepish smile in return. Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we move on?”

You cleared your throat, stepping in to refocus the room. “Right! Anyway, I’m here to answer any questions you have about being a pro hero. So—”

But before you could finish, Kaminari blurted, “How do you know Present Mic so well?”

The whole class leaned in, clearly interested. You deadpanned. “We go way back.”

“How far back?” Mina grinned.

Aizawa sighed. “This isn’t relevant.”

“But it’s interesting!” Mina shot back.

Hizashi, bless him, was absolutely not helping, just standing there grinning like an idiot. You exhaled through your nose, crossing your arms. “Far enough that I have plenty of embarrassing stories about him, but not enough time to share them all.”

The class erupted.

“Oh, we need to hear those!”

“Please tell us at least one!”

You shot Hizashi a look, and he gave you an exaggerated shrug, eyes sparkling with joy.

—-

After the class, as the students trickled out, you turned to Hizashi with a pointed look. “You’re doing a terrible job at hiding our relationship.”

He grinned, entirely unapologetic. “Oh c’mon, babe. You look real cute when you’re flustered.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could leave, he caught your wrist, fingers warm against your skin.

“Hey.” His voice was quieter now, softer, missing its usual booming energy. He glanced at the empty classroom, then back at you. There was something unreadable in his expression, something almost hesitant. “Got a sec?”

You hesitated, Nezu had mentioned stopping by to check in on you, and you really should be heading to the next class but the way Hizashi’s fingers brushed over yours made it hard to say no.

“…Fine. But just a sec.”

Hizashi wasted no time, tugging you toward the classroom’s small storage area, pulling the door shut behind you. The space was tight, barely enough room for the two of you, and the moment you were alone, his hands found your waist, pulling you in close.

His voice dropped lower, rougher. “You drive me crazy, y’know that?” His thumb brushed over the fabric of your uniform, slow, deliberate. “Havin’ to watch you all day and not kiss you?”

You smirked, fingers slipping up his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. “Must be so hard for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Then his lips were on yours urgent and deep, like he was making up for lost time. You barely had a second to react before you were melting into it, tilting your head to let him kiss you deeper. His hands slid up your back, one trailing to cup the back of your neck while the other stayed firm on your waist, keeping you pressed against him.

The kiss started slow, teasing, but it didn’t stay that way. The pent up energy from the entire day the lingering touches, the stolen glances, the way he had to hold back in front of the students spilled over into something more intense. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he let out a quiet groan against your lips, the sound vibrating in his chest.

“Babe,” he murmured between kisses, “you’re killin’ me here.”

You smirked against his lips. “You started it.”

Hizashi let out a breathy chuckle, then dipped his head lower, lips trailing down your jaw, then to your neck. The scrape of his teeth against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and your grip on him tightened.

“This is such a bad idea,” you whispered, tilting your head back to give him better access.

“Yeah?” His breath was warm against your throat. “Then why aren’t you stoppin’ me?”

You swallowed hard, knowing he had a point. “Because,” you admitted, fingers slipping up to to the back of his neck, “I missed you.”

That made him pause. Just for a second. Then he let out a quiet sigh, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before leaning back just enough to look at you.

“I missed you too,” he murmured, voice softer now, more serious. His fingers brushed against your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “You’re always runnin’ around, savin’ the world, bein’ a top hero and all. Feels like I barely get time with you anymore.”

You exhaled, hands resting against his chest. “I know. I feel it too.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, in that small, dimly lit space, his arms around you, your bodies still close, the world outside feeling miles away.

Hizashi’s fingers slid down your arms, his grip tightening around your hands. “Maybe after this, we ditch early. Get some real time together.”

You smiled. “You suggesting we cut class, Yamada?”

He grinned, pressing another kiss to the corner of your lips. “A little. Say you had to go save someone and take me with you”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. “Tempting.”

Before either of you could decide, a voice shattered the quiet. “You do realize this school has cameras, right?”

You both froze. Slowly, you turned to see Aizawa standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed.

Hizashi, ever the professional, cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, casually stepping away from you like that would somehow erase what just happened. “Hey, Eraser! How long you been standin’ there, buddy?”

“Long enough.”

You exhaled sharply. “Fantastic.”

Aizawa gave you both a long, pointed look, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “Just… keep it out of the classrooms.” Then, shaking his head, he walked away.

As soon as he was gone, Hizashi turned to you with a grin. “Welp. Busted.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I told you we’d get caught.”

Hizashi just laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Worth it.”

:0

Hello !! i wanted to know if you write nsfw ??

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

Hello!!! Im not very experienced with writing NSFW but Im more than willing to give it a go >:)

-Xai

Touya Todoroki / Dabi x reader

Summary: As you pick Touya up from rehab, you reflect on how you got here

WARNING: hurt/ barely comfort. It’s a Dabi fanfic so prepare for rude behaviour and a lot of self deprecation on his part.

word count : 9734

FOLLOW ME AND GIVE ME SOME IDEAS!!

RUN BOY RUN - Woodkid

₍^. .^₎⟆ You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, staring at the front doors of the rehab center like they might explode. The car hums softly beneath you, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the parking lot. You’ve been sitting here for a while, waiting. Thinking.

It’s been weeks since you last saw Touya. Weeks of wondering if he’d actually stay. Weeks of resisting the urge to show up just to check.

And now, finally, here he comes.

The doors push open, and there he is, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind. His hair’s a mess, probably hasn’t touched a comb in days and his scars catch the sunlight in a way that makes them stand out even more. He looks tired, in a way that’s more than just physical. But his eyes? Still sharp. Still him.

The second he spots you, he stops. Just stands there, staring, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually be here.

You push open the car door and step out before he can overthink it. “Hey,” you say, keeping it easy.

Touya scoffs, tilting his head. “Hey.” His voice is rough, like he hasn’t used it much.

You take him in, scanning for any sign of what? A breakthrough? A relapse? Hell if you know. He just looks… different. Not better, necessarily. But different.

“How was it?” you ask.

Touya rolls his eyes. “Awful.” Classic. “Same boring speeches, same awkward group sessions. Food was shit.”

You smirk. “No shock there.”

He exhales sharply, something like amusement, but you don’t miss the tension in his shoulders.

“But you stayed,” you say, watching him closely.

Something flickers across his face quick, almost undetectable. He looks away, shifting his weight. “…Yeah,” he mutters. “Guess I did.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. It’s not awkward, just… heavy. The weight of everything unsaid sits between you, pressing at the edges. You had spent weeks wondering if he’d bail, if you’d get some shitty phone call, if you’d ever see him again. And now he’s here. Whole.

Touya clears his throat and jerks his chin toward the car. “You just gonna make me stand here, or what?”

You blink, shaking off your thoughts. “Right.” You open the passenger door. “Get in.”

He hesitates for half a second before slumping into the seat with a quiet sigh. As you settle into the driver’s side, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s staring out the window, absently picking at the frayed edge of his sleeve.

You grip the wheel. “You hungry?”

Touya snorts. “Depends. You taking me somewhere that serves actual food?”

“Yeah, yeah. No more rehab cafeteria mystery meat, I swear.”

For the first time, he smirks just barely, but it’s there. Then, after a beat, he mutters, “…Thanks for picking me up.”

Something tightens in your chest, but it’s not worry this time.

“Yeah yeah,” you say, pulling out of the parking lot. “now don’t get emotional on me.”

Touya leans his head against the window, exhaling as the car rolls forward, the sun sinking lower in the sky. And for now, that’s enough.

—-

When you met him, no one could have guessed that he’d be in your car sharing an intimate bond to intimate so fast.

The first time you and Dabi met, he tried to kill you.

No, really he actually tried. None of that lazy, half-assed, villain posturing. He sent a fucking wall of blue fire straight at you, no warning, no witty one liner. And when you barely managed to dodge, he clicked his tongue like he was annoyed you had the audacity to survive.

“Should’ve just stood still,” he’d said, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and boredom. “Would’ve saved us both a lot of time.”

“You always this much of an asshole, or am I just special?” you shot back, already bracing for the next attack.

Dabi had smirked, rolling his shoulders. “Dunno. Guess we’ll find out.”

That was how it started.

And somehow, for reasons neither of you ever addressed, your run-ins turned into something else. You fought, sure. But over time, it stopped feeling like an actual battle and more like… a routine. A bad habit. A game. He never went for the kill. You never hit him hard enough to stop him. And when the fights ended, more often than not, you’d end up talking.

Which led to nights like this.

Tonight, it was an abandoned lot. He’d set some shit on fire, you’d put it out, and now he was perched on the edge of a rusted-out shipping container, cigarette between his fingers, watching you like he was waiting to be entertained.

“You’re getting slow,” he remarked, exhaling a curl of smoke.

You shot him a look as you stomped out the last few embers. “Or maybe you’re just getting predictable.”

Dabi snorted. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

You climbed up onto the container, ignoring the way he barely shifted to make room for you. He always did that sat like he dared you to invade his space, then acted all put out when you actually did.

“Real ambitious arson job tonight,” you muttered, stretching out your legs. “You only half-commit to everything, or just crime?”

Dabi flicked ash in your direction. “Like you’re one to talk. You had at least three chances to stop me, and you didn’t.” He shot you a sideways glance, smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Starting to think you like having me around.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because listening to you bitch and moan is so much fun.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” he said, lazily tapping ash off the side. “Can’t have you getting soft. If anything i’m helping a little girl become a hero”

You scoffed but didn’t argue. And that was the thing this was normal now. Fighting, bickering, sitting around after like you weren’t supposed to be on opposite sides. Like you weren’t supposed to be enemies.

Maybe that’s why you started noticing things.

Like how he leaned against walls like his legs were seconds from giving out. Or how his hands shook just a little when he smoked, like the heat didn’t quite reach all the way through him. Or how, no matter how sharp his smirk was, his eyes never quite matched.

And because you were a fucking idiot, you started caring.

Which is why, after another long, pointless fight, you threw a water bottle at him.

Dabi caught it, glaring. “The hell is this?”

“Hydration, dipshit,” you said, wiping sweat from your forehead. “Y’know, because you’re a walking pile of burnt kindling, and I’d rather not have you passing out mid fight.”

He stared at the bottle like it had personally offended him. Then at you. Then back at the bottle.

“You do realize I hate you, right?” he deadpanned.

“Uh-huh. Drink the damn water, Dabi.”

His jaw tightened, fingers flexing like he was debating throwing it at your head.

Instead, he cracked the cap open, took a slow sip, and never broke eye contact.

“…You’re fucking annoying,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

He exhaled sharply, flicked his cigarette away, and leaned back against the wall. For once, he didn’t have a comeback. Just sat there, eyes flickering toward the skyline, quiet for once.

Not as a villain. Not as a hero.

Just as a guy too stubborn to admit he might not hate the company and just maybe a guy learning people can care for him.

Though it didn’t stop there, meetings became a lot more frequent.

“You stalking me, hero?”

Dabi didn’t even bother looking at you as you landed on the rooftop beside him. Just flicked his cigarette, barely missing your foot, and leaned back like he didn’t have a care in the world.

You sighed. “You just torched a building. Kinda my job to show up.”

“Yeah? And yet, here you are not doing shit about it.” He smirked, finally turning to you. “Shouldn’t you be slapping cuffs on me or whatever the fuck it is heroes do?”

You rolled your eyes. “Like you’d let me.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t.” He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, letting it curl between his fingers before he flicked the cigarette off the side of the roof. “And we both know you don’t have the balls to try though you might like the cuffs on you.”

You clenched your jaw but didn’t argue not wanting to entertain whatever thoughts he’s trying to imply, which only made his smirk widen. “That’s what I thought.”

“You always this fucking insufferable, or is it just for me?”

Dabi gave you a slow, lazy once-over, tilting his head. “I save my worst for special people.”

“Wow. Flattered.”

“You should be.” He stretched his arms over his head, sighing. “Not everyone gets to be my personal waste of time.”

You crossed your arms. “You say that, and yet, you’re the one still talking to me.”

Dabi chuckled low, rough, full of something mean. “Yeah. Guess I like watching you squirm.”

—-

You hit the ground hard, barely rolling in time to avoid getting fried. The pavement still sizzled from Dabi’s flames, burning through your sleeves as you pushed yourself up.

Dabi, still standing like he didn’t just try to incinerate you, gave you the most unimpressed look of all time. “That was pathetic.”

You spat blood onto the ground, glaring up at him. “You hit like a bitch.”

Dabi actually laughed at that, crouching just enough to get in your face. “You wish I hit like a bitch.” His fingers twitched, heat curling around them. “We both know I could turn you to fucking ash if I wanted to.”

You swallowed hard but held his gaze. “Then why don’t you?”

He tilted his head, watching you like a cat watching a half dead mouse. Then his grin stretched slow and sharp.

“‘Cause I like this,” he murmured. “Watching you scrape yourself off the ground. Watching you try so fucking hard to be something.” He leaned in just a little closer, voice dropping to something almost amused. “It’s entertaining.”

Your fists clenched. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know that?”

Dabi smirked. “Yeah. And?”

You shoved yourself up, ignoring how your legs ached. “One day, I’m gonna put you down for good.”

His grin widened like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Oh, please do.”

——

Dabi was sitting on the curb like he had just clocked out of a long shift at his 9-to-5 arson job. Arms draped over his knees, a half-burnt cigarette dangling from his fingers, and an expression so profoundly bored that you had to take a second to process the absolute wreckage behind him.

The alley looked like a battlefield. Scorch marks everywhere, trash melted into unrecognizable blobs, and some guy still smoking from the flames. He was groaning, which was good it meant he was alive. But considering how crispy he looked, he probably wasn’t gonna be winning any beauty pageants soon.

You let out a long, suffering sigh. “Dabi.”

Dabi tilted his head back lazily to look at you. Then he exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Oh. You.”

You planted your hands on your hips, giving him the best I am so fucking tired look you could muster. “What the fuck happened this time?”

Dabi gave you a slow blink, like you just asked him why the sky was blue. “What the fuck do you think happened?” He waved a vague hand at the destruction behind him. “I had a bad night.”

You threw up your hands. “And what, this was your therapy session? You scorched a guy!”

Dabi sighed dramatically, rolling his neck. “And yet, he’s still breathing. How ‘bout that?”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “You have to stop causing problems for fun.”

He snorted. “Wrong. The problems cause me for fun.”

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “Did you read that off a bumper sticker?”

Dabi smirked. “Nah. Came up with it just now. Pretty good, huh?”

You ignored that. “Did it ever occur to you to just… I don’t know, go home and watch TV like a normal person?”

“I am watching something,” Dabi said, grinning. “You. Losing your goddamn mind.”

You let out a slow, deep breath, resisting the urge to punt him into the nearest dumpster.

Then Dabi rested his chin on his palm, gaze flicking over you. “And yet, here you are. Again.”

You squinted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked. “If I had a dollar for every time you showed up to stop me but didn’t actually stop me, I’d be able to afford the therapy that daddy dearest never gave me.”

You jabbed a finger at him. “Listen here, you little shit—”

“I mean, really,” he went on, like you hadn’t spoken. “You could be off doing hero stuff. Arresting actual villains. Filing paperwork. Touching grass. But nah. Instead, you’re here. With me.” His smirk widened. “Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

Your fingers twitched. So help me God, you thought, if I don’t get out of here in the next five minutes, I am actually going to commit a crime.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, turned on your heel, and started walking.

“You’re not worth the effort.”

Dabi chuckled behind you, lazy and full of smug amusement.

“Keep telling yourself that, hero.”

——

The drive is quiet. its a warm kind of quiet. No one felt like they wanted break it. It was comfortable.

Touya is slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed, jaw locked, radiating the kind of hostility that could curdle milk. His whole vibe is very moody teenager who just got grounded, which is impressive considering he’s a grown-ass man.

You let the silence ride for a while, because you know him. You know he’s stewing. Probably pissed at himself for actually staying in rehab instead of setting the place on fire and walking out in a dramatic blaze of glory. Maybe pissed at you for witnessing the fact that he actually completed something for once in his life.

After a few more minutes of unbearable tension, you finally break.

“You want food?”

Touya snorts. “What, we celebrating?”

You keep your eyes on the road. “I just figured you’d rather eat something that isn’t microwaved cardboard.”

“Bold of you to assume I even ate that shit.”

You exhale slowly through your nose. Patience. Touya is like a stray cat he hisses, scratches, and pretends he doesn’t need anything, but if you ignore him long enough, he eventually starts lurking near your door at dinner time.

“There’s a diner up ahead,” you say, because you will be feeding this dumbass whether he likes it or not. “It’s either that or you starve.”

Touya sighs, like agreeing to basic human needs is such a burden. “Fine. Whatever.”

-

The diner you pull into looks like it should’ve been condemned twenty years ago. The neon sign flickers like it’s having an existential crisis, and the parking lot is a graveyard of questionable life choices.

Inside, the place is nearly empty just a couple of truckers at the counter, mumbling over half-eaten plates of regret. The waitress barely looks up as you both slide into a booth.

Touya, being Touya, immediately sprawls out like he owns the joint, kicking his feet onto the seat across from him. He snatches up a menu but doesn’t actually read it just taps his fingers against the table like he’s already planning an escape route.

The waitress shuffles over, popping her gum. “What’ll it be?”

“Cheeseburger. Extra fries. Coffee,” Touya says, snapping the menu shut like he just finalized a business deal.

You squint at him. “Coffee? This late?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you my mom now?”

You stare at him, debating whether or not to slide his menu across the table and slap him with it.

Instead, you sigh and place your own order. The waitress scribbles it down, looking just about as done with this conversation as you are, then walks off.

Touya slouches even further if he keeps this up, he’s going to merge with the booth. “So. You gonna give me some big, cheesy speech about how proud you are of me?”

You don’t even blink. “Do you want one?”

His lip curls. “Hell no.”

“Then no.”

Touya squints at you like he’s waiting for the catch. Like you’re gonna hit him with some life is a journey Hallmark bullshit at any moment. But when you don’t, he just clicks his tongue and looks away.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” he mutters. “Could’ve just called a cab.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You lean back in your seat. “But I didn’t.”

His fingers twitch against the table, like he wants to argue but can’t come up with a good enough reason. So instead, he scoffs and mutters, “You’re a pain in the ass.”

You smirk. “Yeah, well. So are you.”

When the food finally arrives, Touya wastes zero time inhaling it like he’s fresh out of a 24-hour famine. Fries? Shoveled into his mouth at breakneck speed. Burger? Absolutely demolished. It’s impressive, really. Borderline concerning.

You eat like a normal human being, sipping your drink as he continues his speed run.

Eventually, between bites, he mutters, “…Food’s not bad.”

You hide your smile behind your drink. “I’ll take that as a thank you.”

Touya glares. “Don’t push it.”

You let the conversation fizzle out after that. No talking about home. No lectures. No big emotional moments. Just greasy diner food and the occasional sarcastic remark.

And when you both eventually leave and get back in the car, he doesn’t argue when you take the long way home. Doesn’t snap when the silence stretches again this time a little less heavy.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s his way of saying thanks.

You’re halfway through your plate when you notice it Touya has stopped inhaling his food like a wild animal and is just… sitting there. Not glaring, not throwing sarcastic barbs, just absentmindedly pushing a fry around his plate with a vaguely thoughtful expression.

You blink. “Oh God.”

Touya raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re thinking.” You point at him with your fork. “That’s never a good sign.”

He scoffs, shoving the fry into his mouth. “Shut up.”

But he doesn’t immediately follow it with another insult, which is weird. He just leans back, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s weighing whether or not to say something.

You tilt your head. “What?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, like this this moment, this entire night is physically painful for him. Then, finally, he mutters, “You look tired.”

You blink again. “Wow. Thanks. That’s what every person wants to hear.”

Touya rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying. When’s the last time you actually slept?”

You shrug. “I sleep.”

He snorts. “Yeah? When? Between your constant babysitting and whatever dumbass hero shit you’re doing?”

You open your mouth, then close it. Because okay, maybe you don’t get as much sleep as you should. But it’s not like he’s one to talk.

Touya notices your hesitation and smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff, stabbing at your food, “not all of us have the luxury of napping through our responsibilities.”

“Luxury?” He scoffs. “I was in rehab.”

“You chose not to set the place on fire and escape. I call that a vacation.”

Touya stares at you for a second, then against all odds laughs. Not his usual sharp, mocking laugh, but something quieter. Real. It throws you off so badly that you just sit there, blinking at him.

“What?” he asks, still smirking.

“You laughed.”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “Shit, did I?”

“Yes, and it wasn’t even a mean laugh.” You squint. “Are you dying?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”

“Says the guy who fake-died for three years.”

“Touché.”

You shake your head, still thrown by the fact that he’s being… weirdly chill. Like he’s actually letting himself exist in this moment instead of treating it like some obligatory punishment. It’s suspicious.

Then, just as you’re about to call him out on it, he reaches across the table, plucks a fry off your plate, and pops it into his mouth.

You gape at him. “Did you just—”

“Yep.” He grabs another one. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

You slap his hand away, scandalized. “I fed you! I rescued you from microwave mush, and this is how you repay me?”

Touya grins, all teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly. “Consider it a tax.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I should’ve left you in rehab.”

“Eh,” he says, stealing one more fry just to be an asshole, “but you didn’t.”

And for once, there’s no smugness behind it. Just quiet acknowledgement.

No thank you, no big emotional revelation just a stolen fry and the simple fact that, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he is, you still showed up.

—

The air was thick with smoke, the night split by the wail of sirens and the distant shouts of first responders. The whole block was bathed in flickering orange light, fire consuming what used to be a warehouse now it was just a giant cautionary tale about what happens when dumbasses with unstable quirks play with explosives.

You exhaled through your nose, mask pulled up high, and glanced at the six-foot wall of muscle and arrogance standing beside you. Fucking Endeavor.

“So,” you said, tilting your head toward the raging inferno, “A+ work on the whole ‘subtle infiltration’ plan.”

Endeavor didn’t even look at you. Not surprising. “This isn’t the time for sarcasm.”

You gestured broadly at the absolute catastrophe in front of you. “See, I disagree. Because if we’re not laughing, we’re crying, and I—” You clapped a hand to your chest. “—am emotionally fragile.”

“Focus.” His voice was clipped, sharp, like he was the only professional here.

You rolled your eyes. “Right, right. ‘No nonsense. Only mission.’ Because God forbid we acknowledge that this is a shitshow.”

He ignored you, which was basically the foundation of your entire working relationship.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, already scanning the building for signs of movement.

“Contain the fire and get the survivors out,” he said, striding forward. Flames licked up his arms, rolling off his shoulders like he wasn’t currently surrounded by highly flammable debris.

You sighed, flexing your fingers. “Cool. Love a good ‘rushing into a death trap’ moment.”

Still no reaction.

You followed him in, ducking through the collapsed doorway as heat immediately punched you in the face. Smoke curled through the halls, thick and suffocating, clinging to the walls like a living thing. You yanked your sleeve over your mouth, glaring at Endeavor’s broad back.

“You ever not act like you’re fireproof?” you muttered.

“I am fireproof,” he shot back.

You scoffed. “Okay, but I’m not, so let’s not turn this place into a crematorium before we’re done.”

Predictably, he didn’t dignify that with a response.

You both moved quickly, scanning the rooms, stepping over broken crates and unconscious bodies. Most of the smuggling ring had been handled either burned, unconscious, or very interested in getting arrested if it meant not being roasted alive.

The first survivors were on the second floor, huddled in what used to be an office but was now just another death trap.

You stepped over the threshold, crouching beside a barely conscious man. “Hey, buddy,” you murmured, hoisting him onto your shoulder. “Let’s get you the hell out of here before this place caves in, yeah?”

Endeavor hauled up another survivor with ease, barely even trying. God, so annoying.

“Get them out,” he ordered. “I’ll keep moving.”

You adjusted your grip, ignoring the sweat rolling down your temple. “Awesome. You run headfirst into hell, I’ll play babysitter.”

You turned on your heel, smoke curling at your feet as you hurried back out.

By the time you made it outside, paramedics were already rushing forward, taking the man from your arms. You exhaled sharply, rolling your shoulders, and turned back toward the warehouse.

Endeavor was still inside.

Not that you doubted him. He was the number two hero for a reason. But you’d seen enough missions go south to know that confidence didn’t mean shit when fire had a mind of its own.

Then—

An explosion rocked the building.

Your stomach lurched, heart pounding. For a split second, pure instinct screamed at you to move, to go back in but then, blue-orange flames burst from the second floor, and a moment later, Endeavor strode out of the smoke, dragging the last survivor behind him.

Because of course he did.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah. Congrats on being a one man army.”

He barely spared you a glance, brushing soot off his shoulder like he hadn’t just walked through an explosion. “Handled.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, for sure. Totally casual. You ever not act like you just expect to survive every dumbass decision you make?”

His eyes cut to you, sharp and assessing. “You don’t take this seriously enough.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And you take it so seriously you forget to breathe. Maybe if you stopped treating every mission like a personal vendetta, people wouldn’t be so quick to call you an ass.”

His expression didn’t change. “I get results.”

You snorted. “And I get migraines every time we work together. Funny how that works.”

Endeavor let out a huff his version of done with this conversation and turned away, stalking toward the police.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you surveyed the mess around you. Another night, another catastrophic team up with Japan’s most emotionally constipated man.

You really needed a drink after this.

But before you could make a break for the nearest bar, a voice rumbled beside you.

“…You did well.”

You blinked. Slowly turned your head.

Endeavor didn’t look at you just kept his gaze on the wreckage, arms crossed, face unreadable.

You squinted. “I’m sorry. What?”

His jaw ticked, like saying it physically pained him. “…I said, you did well.”

A slow grin spread across your face. “Holy shit.”

Endeavor immediately looked regretful. “Forget it.”

“Oh no no no, you don’t get to take that back.” You clutched your chest, mock gasping. “Endeavor praised me? I think I might cry.”

He sighed through his nose, very pointedly not engaging.

But you weren’t done.

“Wow. This must be what being a favorite child feels like.” You nudged him with your elbow. “Does this mean I get a ‘World’s Okayest Sidekick’ mug? Maybe a ‘#1 Emotional Support Hero’ t-shirt?”

Endeavor turned his head slightly. “You want a mug?”

You blinked. “Wait. Are you serious?”

He shrugged, which, coming from him, was basically a yes.

You grinned.

Oh, you were never letting him live this down

Now your relationship with the number 2 hero was never your favourite team ups. Though you did feel a strange bit of validation and growth every time you had the chance.

—

You had fought villains, survived explosions, and worked with Endeavor without committing arson (yet), but nothing, nothing. had prepared you for sitting at the Todoroki family dinner table.

Yet here you were, trapped between Hawks, who looked way too entertained, and Shoto, who was sipping his drink like he was emotionally detached from this entire situation.

Endeavor sat at the head of the table, arms crossed like he also didn’t want to be here, and Fuyumi was the only one smiling like this wasn’t the most awkward hostage situation you’d ever been part of.

“So!” she said brightly, setting down a plate in front of you. “How has working with my dad been?”

You immediately froze, a piece of food halfway to your mouth. Slowly, slowly, you turned your head to glance at Endeavor.

He was already looking at you.

Judging.

Daring you to open your mouth and ruin your career.

Hawks, the absolute devil, nudged your side with his elbow. “Go on. Be honest.”

You took a sip of water to buy yourself some time. “Well…” You cleared your throat. “He’s, uh… very efficient.”

Shoto snorted. “That’s a polite way to put it.”

You pointed your fork at him. “See? He gets it.”

Endeavor exhaled through his nose, which, given the fact that his entire body was basically a walking furnace, made it look like he was barely restraining himself from setting the table on fire. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Hawks smirked, leaning closer. “Yeah, say it.”

You shot him a you are so dead after this look before sighing dramatically. “Fine. You want the truth?” You turned to Endeavor. “Working with you is like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall, if that brick wall was actively judging you and could also set things on fire.”

Fuyumi gasped. Shoto took another sip of his drink. Hawks nearly collapsed against the table, laughing.

Endeavor, completely unfazed, just grunted. “You still get the job done.”

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “I am so touched.”

Hawks wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Man, this is so much better than I imagined.”

You turned to Fuyumi. “Blink twice if you need rescuing.”

She actually laughed at that, waving a hand. “Oh, it’s not that bad!”

Shoto, still completely monotone: “It is that bad.”

Endeavor let out the longest suffering sigh of his life.

By the time dinner ended, you were slumped against the doorway, utterly drained. Hawks, of course, was thriving, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, that was fun! Same time next week?”

You whipped around. “Do not manifest that.”

Fuyumi clapped her hands together. “Oh! That would be wonderful—”

“NO.” You pointed a warning finger at Hawks. “This is your fault.”

He grinned. “Worth it.”

As you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, rubbing your temples. “I need a drink.”

Hawks slung an arm over your shoulders. “Told you it’d be fun.”

You shoved him off. “Keigo, I swear to god—”

—

Fighting Dabi was always a pain in the ass. Not just because of the fire which, yeah, was a huge problem but because he never shut up.

Tonight was no different. Flames roared around you, painting the alleyway in flickering blue as you dodged another wave of heat. The bastard was laughing, like this was some kind of game.

“What’s the matter, hero?” Dabi taunted, taking a lazy step forward. “Too hot for you?”

You huffed, rolling your shoulders as you steadied yourself. “Wow, never heard that one before. You come up with that yourself?”

His smirk widened. “Nah. I save my best material for special occasions.”

Before you could throw back another quip, Dabi’s eyes flickered to your uniform specifically, to the slight burn mark on your sleeve, barely visible but unmistakable.

And then, his entire demeanor changed.

His smirk faltered, replaced by something sharper. More calculating. His gaze darkened.

“Huh.” He tilted his head, stepping closer. “That’s interesting.”

You kept your stance firm, watching him carefully. “What?”

Dabi’s eyes flicked back to yours, his grin returning, but this time it was more… sinister. “That burn mark.”

You frowned, glancing at your sleeve. “Yeah? What about it?”

He let out a low chuckle, but there was something off about it something almost too amused. “Been spending time with other guys? I thought we were exclusive”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral. “oh? and what makes you say that?”

Dabi crossed his arms, the flames around his hands flickering dangerously. “So… you’ve been working with him, huh?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” His voice dripped with something between mockery and genuine intrigue. “You’ve been on missions with Endeavor.”

You still weren’t sure why that mattered to him, but something in his tone made your skin crawl. You scoffed, keeping your voice even. “Yeah, so? He’s the number two hero. I work with a lot of pros.”

Dabi let out a slow whistle, shaking his head. “Man, that’s hilarious.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What the hell is so funny?”

His smirk widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You, hero. Running around, playing sidekick to that bastard.” He let out a low chuckle, stepping even closer. “I wonder… did he finally get what he wanted?”

Your jaw clenched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dabi’s smirk twitched, like he was enjoying some inside joke at your expense. “Nothing. Just seems like you don’t know your mentor as well as you think.”

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down your spine. But you weren’t about to let him rattle you. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

Dabi just grinned, stepping back. “Nah. I think I’ll let you figure it out yourself.”

And before you could stop him, he vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but embers and more questions than you wanted to deal with.

—

You had somehow let Fuyumi trick you into another dinner. You weren’t sure how it happened one second, you were wrapping up a mission with Endeavor, and the next, you and Hawks were walking up to the Todoroki house like it was some weekly scheduled event.

“You manifested this,” you muttered, glaring at Hawks as you knocked on the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, smirking. “I think this is great for you.”

“I hope you get hit by a rogue Nomu.”

The door opened before Hawks could come up with a comeback, and Fuyumi greeted you with her usual bright smile. “You came!”

“Yeah, yeah, against my better judgment,” you muttered as she ushered you inside.

This time, the vibe was slightly less tense than before. Natsuo still wasn’t here (no surprise), but the rest of the family was present Endeavor looked like he would rather be anywhere else, Shoto was neutral as always, and Hawks was making himself way too comfortable again.

As Fuyumi moved to set the table, you noticed something different this time a photo album was open on the coffee table, pages slightly worn at the edges.

You nudged Hawks and motioned toward it. “Look at this. Actual proof that Endeavor has been outside of a crime scene.”

Hawks chuckled, leaning in. “Wow. I can’t even picture him smiling.”

You flipped a few pages, finding old photos of Fuyumi, Shoto, and Natsuo when they were kids. The pictures looked almost normal—almost like any other family.

Then you saw a photo that made you pause.

It was a boy, older than Shoto but still young, with white hair and striking blue eyes. He was grinning, arms crossed with a cocky smirk, like he knew he was the coolest person in the room.

You frowned, tapping the picture. “Who’s this?”

Fuyumi turned from the kitchen and followed your gaze. Her expression softened just slightly. “Oh… that’s Touya.”

You glanced at Hawks, who also looked mildly surprised. “Huh. Never heard of him.”

Fuyumi’s smile dimmed just a little. “He was our oldest brother.”

Was.

You weren’t dumb. That single word told you enough.

Endeavor’s entire posture tensed, but he didn’t say anything, just kept staring at the table like the conversation wasn’t happening.

Shoto was unreadable as ever. “He passed away a long time ago.”

You blinked, looking between them. You hadn’t even known Endeavor had another kid, and now you were learning he was dead?

Hawks, who was usually one to crack a joke, was silent beside you, his sharp eyes studying the photo with an unusual seriousness. “How?”

Fuyumi hesitated, shooting a glance at her father. “An accident,” she said carefully. “A fire.”

You didn’t need a full explanation to understand there was a lot more to the story than she was letting on. The entire atmosphere in the room had shifted like an invisible weight had settled over the conversation, suffocating and heavy.

You looked at the boy in the picture again. Touya. Something about his expression, his posture, felt oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place why.

Hawks leaned back, whistling lowly. “Damn. Didn’t know you had another sibling, Shoto.”

Shoto’s eyes flickered to his father before looking away. “Most people don’t.”

You glanced at Endeavor, who was completely silent, jaw clenched. If the man was already emotionally constipated on a good day, now he looked like someone had shoved a grenade down his throat and pulled the pin.

Yeah. You were not asking follow-up questions.

Fuyumi gave you a sad smile before quickly trying to shift the mood. “Anyway! Dinner’s ready.”

You exchanged a glance with Hawks, silently agreeing to drop it for now.

But as you ate, your eyes kept drifting back to that photo. There was something about it, something that made your stomach twist.

Something that told you this wasn’t the whole story.

—

You’re barely five minutes into the drive when Touya starts fidgeting. One leg bouncing, fingers tapping, sighing dramatically every few minutes like he’s about to say something and then deciding against it.

You ignore him for as long as humanly possible.

Then another heavy sigh.

“For fuck’s sake,” you say, glancing at him. “What?”

Touya smirks. “Nothing. Just love a good awkward silence.”

You roll your eyes and turn down a side street, heading toward an old parking lot on the edge of the city. It’s the kind of place that’s either a sketchy drug deal spot or just an abandoned lot that no one’s cared about for years. Either way, it’s empty, which is exactly what you need.

When you park, Touya squints at you. “Oh, nice. Super ominous.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what, this is where you tell me you’ve secretly been hired to kill me? ‘Cause, honestly? Should’ve done it before you wasted money on my food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, digging around in the glove compartment. “I’m playing the long con.”

Touya watches as you pull out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. He blinks. “The hell? Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t.” You tap the pack against your palm, knocking one loose. “Except when I do.”

He huffs a laugh and pulls out his own pack. “Terrible influence. Hope you know that.”

“You’re literally the last person who gets to say that to me.”

Touya just shrugs, flicking his lighter open. He takes a slow drag, then leans over the console, offering you the lighter with a lazy smirk. “Go on, then. Join me in my terrible life choices.”

You roll your eyes but lean in, lighting your cigarette. The first inhale burns your lungs in a way that’s almost nostalgic, and when you exhale, the smoke curls into the night air.

For a while, neither of you speak. Just sit there, smoking in companionable silence, staring out at the city lights in the distance.

Then Touya, ever the shit-stirrer, side-eyes you. “Soooo… you’re in love with me, right?”

You cough on your cigarette, nearly choking. “What the fuck—”

He grins, leaning back against the seat. “I mean, think about it. You picked me up, bought me food, brought me to this super romantic abandoned parking lot—” He gestures vaguely. “Like, if you’re gonna confess, at least do it with some dramatic flair.”

You take a slow, pointed drag. Exhale. Stare him dead in the eyes.

“Touya,” you say dryly, “if I were in love with you, I’d have worse problems than this cigarette.”

He snorts, tipping his head back. “Fair point.”

Another silence stretches between you, this one lighter. Less heavy, more like… a pause between bullshit conversations.

Eventually, Touya flicks his cigarette out the window, watching the ember fizzle out. “…Y’know,” he mutters, “you didn’t have to pick me up.”

You shrug. “Yeah. But I did.”

He side-eyes you again, expression unreadable. Then he exhales sharply and shakes his head. “Idiot.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, smirking.

He groans, slouching further into his seat, but he doesn’t argue.

And that’s how you know he actually means thank you.

—

The smell of smoke still clung to the air, thick and acrid, curling in the space between you and Dabi… Touya. You didn’t even realize you were gripping your fists until your nails bit into your palms, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t breathe.

It made sense now. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he never really tried to kill you even when he had the chance. The pieces had been there all along, but now they were clicking together too fast, too loud.

And Dabi- no, Touya- was watching you like a cornered animal, all teeth and venom, muscles tight like he was ready to bolt or attack, whichever came first.

“Say something,” he muttered, voice rough. “You’re staring like a fucking idiot.”

Your throat was dry, words sticking to your tongue like glue. But then, finally—

“You’re Touya.”

His jaw twitched, fingers curling at his sides. “No shit.”

The sheer casualness of it nearly sent you over the edge. “No shit?” You took a step forward, shoving a hand through your hair. “That’s all you have to say? You.. You let me think you were just some guy this whole time”

“I am just some guy.”

“Don’t fucking do that,” you snapped. “You lied to me.”

Dabi let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Lied? Oh, that’s rich.” He took a step toward you, voice dropping into something low and mean. “You think I owe you the truth? That I was just gonna sit you down like, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m a walking family tragedy with daddy issues bigger than this whole fucking city’?” He sneered. “Be for fucking real.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I thought we—”

“What? Had something?” His grin was all sharp edges, nothing warm behind it. “Hate to break it to you, but that was your mistake.”

You felt something crack in your ribs, but you ignored it. “I trusted you.”

Dabi’s expression twisted into something ugly, something raw, but it was gone in an instant, swallowed up by that same defensive, sharp-toothed smirk. “Then you’re even dumber than I thought.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hands trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

He scoffed. “Doing what? Telling you the truth?” He stepped closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, warning you to back off but you didn’t. “You wanna play hero so fucking bad, then act like one. Arrest me. Fight me. Do whatever the fuck your little code tells you to do.”

You clenched your jaw. “You’re pushing me away.”

“Good.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Dabi wasn’t looking at you anymore he was staring past you, at nothing, jaw tight like he was trying to hold back words that could shatter his teeth.

But you’d had enough.

You exhaled sharply and took a step back. “Fine.”

His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t move, didn’t react.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Guess I was wrong about you.”

Dabi let out a short, hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Guess you were.”

The city felt too loud. Even with the distant hum of sirens fading into the night, even with the crackling embers of the smoldering wreck behind you, the weight in your chest made it hard to hear anything else.

Touya—Dabi—was still standing there, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly like he was waiting for you to walk away. Like he expected you to.

And maybe you should.

Maybe you should turn on your heel, pretend like this conversation never happened, pretend like his words didn’t bruise, pretend like your chest wasn’t burning with something ugly and disappointed.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you took a breath. Steadier this time. Then another.

“Okay,” you said, voice quiet but firm. “I’m leaving.”

His shoulders barely shifted. “Yeah. Got that part.”

You ignored him. “But I’m not letting you do this.”

His jaw tensed. “Do what?”

“This.” You gestured at the space between you, at the sharp, jagged edges of this conversation, at the way he was standing like a kicked dog trying to pretend it didn’t hurt. “Pushing me away like it’ll fix anything.”

He scoffed, but it didn’t have the same bite. “And what, you think not pushing you away is a better idea? Think about it, genius. What do you actually want from me here?”

Your fingers curled at your sides. “I want the truth.”

Touya laughed. It wasn’t sharp this time wasn’t even mean. Just quiet. Exhausted.

“The truth?” He shook his head, looking past you again, somewhere far, far away. “I gave you the truth, and you didn’t like it.”

“You gave me a version of it,” you shot back. “The one that hurts the least for you.”

His expression flickered for half a second something too fast to catch, something that almost looked guilty. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“And?” he said, like he was daring you to argue. “That’s what people do.”

“No, it’s what you do.”

Silence.

For the first time since this started, Touya actually looked at you. Fully. His eyes were hard, unreadable, but you could feel the tension underneath it all.

He thought this was the last time you’d talk. Thought this was the final thread snapping between you, the moment where you’d finally decide he wasn’t worth the effort.

And maybe you should.

But instead, you exhaled, rubbing a hand down your face.

“Y’know what?” you muttered, stepping past him. “Forget it. Just forget it.”

And for a second, you thought that was it.

But then, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it—

“…I didn’t want you to know.”

You froze.

Turned back.

Touya was still standing in the same spot, still holding himself like his own body was a battlefield—but his fists were clenched, his head dipped just slightly, like this admission was something he hadn’t meant to say out loud.

He let out a breath, shaking his head. “You-” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “You were never supposed to know.”

Your heart twisted.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he took a slow step back, eyes flicking somewhere over your shoulder—like he was making sure you weren’t blocking his escape route.

You stared at him for a moment longer, waiting.

He didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t take it back. Didn’t try to fix it.

So you nodded, lips pressing into a tight line. “Okay.”

The city air was still thick with the scent of smoke, but the fire wasn’t the problem anymore. Not really.

You should leave. You should let this be what he wanted it to be one clean break, one final cut before you could crawl too deep under his skin.

But then he said it again.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

Barely above a whisper. A confession that sounded like it had been ripped from his throat against his will.

You froze. Turned back.

Touya’s gaze flickered to you, but only for a second before he looked away, jaw locking.

You swallowed against the tightness in your chest. “Why?”

Nothing.

Not right away, at least. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. Like he wanted to reach for something, maybe even you, but wouldn’t let himself.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Because you look at me like I’m-” He stopped himself, mouth pressing into a thin line.

You tilted your head, stepping closer. “Like you’re what?”

Touya scoffed, rubbing a hand down his face before running it through his hair, shoulders tensing. “Like I’m fixable.”

That knocked the air out of you.

“Touya…”

His fingers curled into fists, a sharp breath escaping through his teeth. “Don’t.”

But you couldn’t not. Not when he was standing there like this, when the usual cocky bravado had cracked just enough for you to see what was underneath.

“You think I’m trying to fix you?” you asked, voice softer now. “That’s not—” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “That’s not what this is.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I just- I care about you.”

His head snapped up at that, eyes narrowing like the words had physically hurt him.

You took another step closer, slow, careful, hands open at your sides like you were approaching something fragile. “You don’t have to push me away.”

His throat bobbed.

For a moment, just one, you thought he might actually let you close the distance. Thought he might let his shoulders drop, let you see him without all the fire and sharp edges.

But then he stepped back.

Not far. Just enough. Just enough to tell you what he couldn’t say out loud.

His head tilted slightly, like he was trying to keep his expression blank, but his voice betrayed him.

“I do have to.”

Your chest tightened. “Why?”

Touya’s jaw clenched, eyes darting away. “Because if I don’t—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’ll hurt more when you finally realize I’m not worth it.”

Something in you cracked.

You wanted to scream. Shake him. Make him understand.

Instead, you just let out a slow breath. “That’s not gonna happen.”

He huffed, a small, tired smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, well. We’ll see.”

The worst part was he truly believed that. He thought it was only a matter of time. That you’d come to your senses, see him for what he thought he was, and leave him behind before he could stop you.

And you could tell, deep down, that he was already bracing for it.

You hesitated for half a second before reaching out slowly, carefully and letting your fingers brush against his wrist. Just enough to feel the warmth of his skin, the faint, uneven texture of his scars.

His breath hitched.

Not a flinch. Not quite.

But he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t look at you either, though. Just stared at the ground, breathing unsteady, like he was trying to decide whether or not to bolt.

You squeezed, just slightly. “I’m still here.”

A pause.

Then, softer than anything you’d ever heard from him—

“…For now.”

And that? That was the closest he’d come to asking you to stay.

—

Dabi never liked to stick around after fights. He was a hit and run kind of guy burn what he wanted, say something snarky, and disappear before anyone could pin him down. But for some reason, he had been lingering more and more after your encounters. especially after how tense the last encounter everything had been weird. Yes you had found out he was Touya but he had also found out his current chase has been cozy with the thing he missed the most.

You weren’t sure why. You weren’t working together, you weren’t allies, but somehow, you kept running into each other. And somehow, neither of you had killed the other yet.

Tonight was another one of those nights.

You had spent the last half hour chasing him through an abandoned district, dodging fire and insults in equal measure. Eventually, it turned into a weird kind of truce he had gotten bored, you had gotten tired, and now you were sitting on a crumbling rooftop, catching your breath while he lit a cigarette.

He exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the night air. “You’re getting slower.”

You shot him a glare, still panting. “Or you’re getting faster.”

He snorted. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

You leaned back on your hands, staring up at the stars. “Y’know, for a guy who’s so dedicated to burning society to the ground, you sure do waste a lot of time chatting with me.”

Dabi hummed, tapping ash off the side of the building. “Maybe I like watching you get pissed off.”

“Oh, yeah, that definitely tracks.” You rolled your eyes, glancing at him. “So? What’s the next step in your grand villain plan?”

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You shrugged. “Eh. If it’s anything like your usual, I’m guessing ‘fire, explosions, and traumatizing civilians.’”

Dabi let out a low chuckle. “Not a bad guess.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, casually, you spoke.

“Had dinner with your sister again.”

You hadn’t looked at him when you said it, but you felt the way he tensed beside you.

It was subtle. So subtle that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But you had been around him enough now to catch the small things. The way his fingers twitched slightly against the cigarette, the brief pause in his breathing.

His voice was even when he responded, but there was an edge to it. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. She made this crazy good teriyaki chicken. Even got Hawks to shut up for a full five minutes.”

Dabi scoffed, taking another drag. “Miracle worker.”

“Right?” You smirked. “Shoto was there too. And Endeavor.”

Dabi’s expression immediately darkened at the name, his grip on the cigarette tightening. “Sounds like a real fun time.”

You ignored the bitterness in his tone. “It was something, that’s for sure.” You leaned forward slightly, resting your arms on your knees. “Y’know… she still talks about you.”

Dabi went completely still.

You kept your gaze ahead, pretending not to notice. “Not all the time. Just little things. The way you used to joke around when you were kids. How you’d always eat the last piece of tempura when nobody was looking.”

Dabi let out a short, humorless laugh. “She remembers that?”

“She remembers a lot,” you said, softer this time.

Another silence. Dabi stared at the horizon, jaw clenched. His cigarette burned between his fingers, the embers crackling in the quiet.

You watched him carefully. For all his arrogance, all his cruelty, there were cracks in the walls he had built. Moments like this, when you could almost see past the fire and spite when the boy he used to be bled through, just for a second.

But just as quickly, he shoved it down.

He flicked his cigarette away, standing up. “This was fun, hero. Let’s do it again sometime.”

You frowned, watching him. “That’s it? No snarky remark?”

Dabi gave you a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll make up for it next time.”

And before you could say anything else, he disappeared into the night.

But as you sat there, watching the last of the smoke fade into the sky, you couldn’t shake the feeling that for just a moment. he had hesitated.

—

You both sit there in the car, letting the last wisps of cigarette smoke curl out the windows. It’s quiet, save for the occasional rustling in the nearby bushes, which based on the location could either be a raccoon or someone plotting a murder. Either way, not your problem.

Touya exhales sharply, flicking his cigarette out the window. “So, what now?”

You glance at him. “What do you mean ‘what now’?”

“I mean, what the hell are we doing? You kidnapped me from rehab, bought me food, let me pollute my lungs in peace feels like there should be a next step in this weird-ass bonding experience.”

“You want a scrapbook?” You lean back against the seat, stretching. “Maybe a trophy? ‘Congratulations, you survived rehab and only complained about it 47 times!’”

Touya scoffs, side eyeing you. “That’s lowballing it. I complained at least 93 times.”

“Yeah, I stopped listening after the first 50.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before running a hand through his already messy hair. “Whatever. This whole thing is pointless.”

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize I was supposed to plan a grand Welcome Back to Society party,” you say, deadpan. “Should I have rented a clown? Gotten one of those shitty banners that say ‘You Did It!’ in Comic Sans?”

Touya huffs a laugh but quickly wipes it off his face, like he refuses to let you win even a little. “Yeah, I’d rather set myself on fire again than be subjected to that.”

You smirk. “Damn, next time I’ll actually do it, then.”

Another silence stretches between you, but it’s not comfortable. You can tell he’s restless, fidgety, like he’s trying to swallow down some actual feelings and it’s making him physically ill.

And sure enough—

“…I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.”

There it is. The actual problem.

You tap your fingers against the steering wheel. “What do you want to do?”

He gives you an exhausted look. “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d be doing it?”

“Hey, some people like being miserable. You’re one of them.”

“Fuck you.”

You grin. “There it is.”

He rolls his eyes and slouches further into his seat. “I’m serious, dumbass. Like… what now? What the hell am I supposed to do? Get some boring-ass job? Become a ‘functioning member of society’ or whatever bullshit they kept telling me in rehab? What if I just don’t?”

You shrug. “Then don’t.”

Touya blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” You throw him a look. “Did you want me to give you a whole therapy monologue? ‘You got this, king! Chase your dreams! Live, laugh, love!’”

He gags. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“There you go, then.”

He mutters something about you being insufferable under his breath before rubbing his face with both hands. “Ugh. Whatever. This whole thing sucks.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to being alive.” You stretch again, popping your back. “Anyway. Let’s go.”

Touya frowns. “Where?”

“I dunno. But if you’re gonna sit there having a melodramatic crisis about your future, we might as well do it while driving.”

He stares at you. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“You’re so fucking mean,” you shoot back, starting the car. “Buckle up, jackass.”

He groans but does it anyway, muttering complaints the entire time.

And with that, you pull out of the parking lot, heading absolutely nowhere by just you, a moody ex-arsonist, and a whole lot of sarcastic insults to get you through the night.

Present Mic | Hizashi Yamada X Reader

⋆˚✿˖° Mid Life Crisis ⋆˚✿˖°

I want to become tumblr’s token Present mic fanfic writer. I LOVE THAT MAN LIKE NOBODY CAN!!! One person in my DMs had me going back to my drafts immediately

masterlist

he’s never peaked and he will never peak because he’s perfect and amazing.

Hizashi’s house was huge. It didn’t look it from the outside, but once you stepped in, it was like a shrine to rock and roll. Posters of legendary bands covered the walls, electric guitars hung all across the rooms, and vinyl records stacked in neat rows lined the shelves. It was so him,loud in personality but meticulously cared for.

You were getting ready in his bedroom, standing in front of his full length mirror, adjusting the tight dress that hugged all the right places. It wasn’t anything too much, but it was enough to turn heads, and you were already excited for the one person that you cared about to see you.

“Alright, babe, you ready to-” His voice cut off as soon as he stepped in. You smirked at him through the mirror. He had his hair tied up in a bun, a simple button up and vest combo making him look effortlessly cool. But that wasn’t the fun part, the fun part was the way he was staring. “-go?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Oh? Something wrong, Yamada?” you teased, turning to face him fully, giving a little spin. “Too much?”

Hizashi blinked, his mouth slightly open, then shook his head violently. “Nope! Nope, not at all! In fact, I, wow, okay, I love my life.”

You laughed, stepping closer, running a hand down his vest. “You clean up nice yourself. That handsome face of yours, I’m gonna have to fight off the others tonight.”

“Me? Babe, me? I need to be concerned about you!” He pointed an exaggerated, accusing finger at you. “Do you see yourself? You’re illegal. You should be arrested for—wait, no, that sounds weird—uh, I should be arrested for—uh—”

You snorted as he tripped over his words, his usual confident, loud persona cracking in real time. Adorable. “So you like it?” you hummed, tilting your head.

“Like is an understatement, sweetheart. You are out here committing crimes against my heart, and I ain’t even mad about it.” He held you close, staring at you, or rather looking right in your eyes. “I’m simping so hard right now, I swear.”

You grinned, stepping even closer, hands resting on his chest now. “I should not had let the class teach you that word….Then should we even go to the party? Or should I just let you keep simping all night?

Hizashi groaned, throwing his head back. “Babe, don’t tempt me. The only thing keeping me from locking this door and worshipping the ground you walk on is that I know if we don’t show up, Aizawa is going to kill me if I leave him alone.”

You pouted dramatically. “Ugh, fine. But you better keep this same energy the whole night.” He leaned down, lips just barely brushing against yours before he grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, you know me”

—-

Hizashi didn’t let up. Not at all. Not when you were walking through the front doors of the party, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as if staking his claim which, considering the amount of attention you were getting in that dress, was completely intentional.

the loud, confident, sometimes utterly ridiculous man who never seemed to run out of energy. And you, the calm (most of the time), equally confident pro who somehow managed to keep up with his antics. People talked about your relationship all the time. The age gap, the differences in energy, how did this even happen? conversations. But the truth, You were stupid for each other.

It wasn’t just the attraction, though damn if that wasn’t strong. It was the fact that no matter how much Hizashi turned a room into his stage, his eyes always found you first. The fact that, even after a long day, when he should’ve been crashing, he’d still pull you into his arms and hum softly, running his hands through your hair as you talked about your day. The fact that for all his confidence, you were the one who made him speechless. on the flip side? He was your biggest hype man. Always in your corner, always reminding you just how much of a badass you were. You might be a top 10 pro, but he made sure you felt like one, even on the days when you didn’t.

——

The party was in full swing, music blaring, drinks flowing, and pros of all ranks finally letting loose for once. It was rare to get a night like this, where no one had to worry about saving the world, so you were damn well going to enjoy it. You were on the dance floor with Hawks and Mirko, and it was all over the place.

Mirko was hyping you up like crazy, clapping and whistling every time you so much as moved, while Hawks, ever the showman, had decided he was going to out dance everyone. including you.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, pointing at Hawks as he spun dramatically. “You do realize you’re the only one trying, right?”

“Oh, please,” he shot back, flipping his bangs out of his eyes. “This is all done in a super nonchalant way. You’re just mad, you can’t keep up!”

That earned a sharp laugh from Mirko, who immediately joined in. “Yeah, no way I’m letting that slide. Get his ass.”

And so the battle began. At some point, it stopped being about looking good and turned into pure nonsense. Argyably it never looked good. Hawks attempting breakdancing moves he had no business trying, Mirko throwing in kicks just because? and you? You just let loose, moving however you wanted, laughing so hard your sides hurt. Some of the other pros were watching, some cheering, some just shaking their heads at the spectacle. Midnight had walked by at one point, smirking knowingly. “Well, aren’t you three the life of the party?”

“Damn right we are!” Hawks shot back, striking a pose.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Hizashi was not moving at all. He and Aizawa had claimed one of the couches, and while the party raged around them, they were just chilling. Hizashi had one arm draped over the back of the couch, his drink in hand, his usual grin plastered on his face. He was vibing, content just being there, occasionally chatting with Aizawa between pros walking past and greeting them.

Aizawa, on the other hand, was doing what he did best sitting in silence, eyes half lidded, drink untouched.

“She’s having fun,” Aizawa eventually said, nodding towards you on the dance floor. Hizashi followed his gaze, his grin softening a bit when he spotted you. Even in a crowd, even with people surrounding you, his eyes always found you first.

“Yeah,” he said, voice just a little too fond. “She looks real good, too.”

Aizawa sighed. “You’re so lame.”

Hizashi cackled. “Oh, you have no idea, man.”

Hizashi leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out as he sipped his drink. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the room, but he was content just sitting there, people watching with Aizawa. It was a rare break from the chaos of pro hero life, and even if the night was loud, it was nice. Aizawa, meanwhile, sat like he always did hunched, arms crossed, looking like he was two seconds away from dipping. Hizashi wasn’t fooled, though. The fact that Aizawa hadn’t actually left yet meant he didn’t hate it too much.

“Hard to believe we get to do this now, huh?” Hizashi mused, watching as a few lower ranked pros passed by, nodding respectfully in their direction. Some were fresh faces, new names climbing the ranks, and it reminded him just how much things had changed.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Feels weird. Feels like we should be doing something else. Something useful.” Hizashi snorted. “You are doing something useful relaxing.”

Aizawa gave him a look. “That’s your definition of useful?”

“Damn right it is!” Hizashi gestured dramatically around the room. “Look at everyone! They’re all taking a break, lettin’ loose, remembering they’re people and not just walking disaster response units. You think we don’t deserve this?”

Aizawa hesitated, his expression unreadable. Hizashi knew where his mind was going before he even had to say it. The sheer amount of loss they’d all seen, the students, the fellow heroes, the weight of the world on their shoulders. It was hard to sit back and have a good time when the job never really stopped.

Before Aizawa could spiral too deep, a familiar voice cut through the moment. “Wow, look at you two, I dont know if you guys know how a party works”

Hizashi looked up to see Snipe passing by, arms crossed, the usual deep-set frown on his face. Beside him, Power loader, now slightly sweaty from dancing, grinned at the sight of them.

“Don’t be jealous, old man,” Hizashi shot back. “Not everyone can handle this level of zen!”

Snipe just smiles and walked away. Power Loader, however, laughed and clapped Hizashi on the shoulder before following.

“Man, with the amount of pros here I feel there's a problem bound to happen,” Aizawa muttered. Before Hizashi could respond, another familiar presence approached, Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady.

“Yamada,” Kamui greeted with a nod.

“Hizashi,” Mt. Lady added, her gaze flickering over to Aizawa. “And… the usual grump.” Aizawa just sighed.

“You two taking it easy, huh?” Kamui asked.

“Someone’s gotta hold down the couches,” Hizashi joked.

Mt. Lady smirked. “You sure you’re not just getting old?”

“Ouch!” Hizashi smiled. “whats up with the hate for relaxing at parties?”

She just laughed as she and Kamui walked off, leaving Hizashi shaking his head. Aizawa took another sip of his drink before finally speaking. “You are getting old, though.”

“Excuse me?”

Aizawa gave him a sideways glance, eyes just barely amused. “You’re 30, dating a 22 year old, wearing your hair in a bun, talking about how much things have changed, face it, you’re having a mid life crisis.”

Hizashi gasped like he’d just been personally attacked which he kinda did. “How dare you.”

Aizawa shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Hizashi shook his head, sighing dramatically. “And here I was, thinking I could count on my best friend to support me.”

“I am supporting you,” Aizawa said, smirking slightly. “I just think it’s funny.”

“You’re so lucky I love you, man,” Hizashi grumbled, finishing off his drink.

Aizawa hummed. “Lucky is one way to put it.”

Hizashi wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t insecure, either. He was loud, confident, and damn well knew what he brought to the table. But the age thing? Yeah. That always made him think. He knew Aizawa had just been messing with him, it was what they did, their whole friendship built on dry humor and good natured jabs. But now, sitting there, watching the party move around him, the thought wouldn’t leave his head.

He was 30. You were 22.

Eight years wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was some old man, but still sometimes, it made him wonder.

You were young, in your prime, one of the best heroes out there. You had the world at your feet. And sure, he was at some point in the top 10, too, still full of energy, but there were moments like this one where he felt older. Not in a way that made him doubt himself, but in a way that made him wonder if you’d ever look back and think… damn, I should’ve picked someone my own age.

He hated thinking like that. It was dumb. You were with him. You chose him, over and over again. But it didn’t change the fact that every now and then, the thought crept in. Maybe it was because he loved you so much. Like, a stupid amount. Enough that he wanted to make sure you never regretted choosing him. Enough that he caught himself worrying about things he’d normally laugh off.

Maybe that’s what a mid-life crisis really was. Not the bun, not the nostalgia, not the way Aizawa poked fun. It was realizing you had something so good, and you’d do anything to keep it. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his thumb over the rim of his glass. Aizawa, ever perceptive even when half asleep, glanced at him. “You actually thinking about it?”

Hizashi snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. Just… y’know.”

Aizawa hummed. “You know she loves you, right?”

That made Hizashi pause. It wasn’t like Aizawa to say stuff like that outright.

Hizashi chuckled, leaning back again, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah. I know.”

And he did. He just had to remind himself sometimes.

——

The music was still pounding, the lights flashing in a dizzying rhythm as you moved with Hawks and Mirko. The three of you had long given up on anything resembling actual dancing. it was just pure fun now. Hawks was still determined to outshine everyone, while Mirko hyped up literally everything you did, laughing wildly every time one of you spun too fast or almost tripped.

Maybe you’d had a little too much to drink. You weren’t drunk, just… happy. A little lightheaded, a little more free. Enough that the world felt warmer, easier, like nothing could touch you in this moment. Or you were drunk. hussssh now

And then, between the spinning lights and the blur of movement, your eyes landed on him. Hizashi was still on the couch, still grinning, still talking with Aizawa, but… something felt off. Maybe it was the slight shift in his posture, or the way his usual energy seemed just a little muted.

You didn’t think. One second, you were dancing. The next, you were running. Well, stumbling, really. Mirko shouted something, probably encouragement. Hawks called after you, definitely something teasing. But you didn’t stop. You just launched yourself forward, nearly crashing into Hizashi’s side as you practically tackled him in a hug.

“WHOA!” Hizashi barely had time to react before you were on him, arms wrapped around his torso, your body half in his lap as you buried your face against his vest.

“Heyyyyy,” you mumbled, grinning up at him.

Hizashi blinked, caught somewhere between startled and entirely smitten. Then, as if on instinct, he wrapped his arms around you, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Babe, you good?”

“Mmmhmm.” You nuzzled closer, tightening your hold. “Just wanted to be near you.”

Aizawa, still sitting beside him, gave you both the most unimpressed look before sighing. “I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hizashi waved him off, though his eyes never left you. “Love you too, bro.”

Aizawa just grunted, standing up and disappearing into the crowd. Hizashi, meanwhile, exhaled slowly, letting his chin rest against the top of your head. “Didn’t know I was makin’ a face to call you over.”

“You weren’t,” you murmured. “But I know you.”

Hizashi’s arms tightened around you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held you there, warm and solid, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Then, with a soft laugh, he murmured, “Im so lucky I love you.”

“Mmhmm.” You grinned. “I love you.”

You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, still grinning, still feeling weightless from the drinks and the music and him. Hizashi’s golden eyes flickered with warmth, soft under the dim party lights. He was still holding you close, one arm securely around your waist, the other resting lazily along the back of the couch.

You just stared at him, a slow, happy smile spreading across your lips.

He raised a brow, smirking slightly. “What’re you lookin’ at, silly girl?”

Your smile widened. “Just you.”

Hizashi’s grip on you tightened, his smirk faltering for half a second before he chuckled low and fond and a little breathless. “Damn,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You tryna kill me tonight?”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Maaaybe.”

He laughed, the sound softer than usual, quieter, meant just for you. His fingers curled slightly against your waist, absentmindedly tracing circles through the fabric of your dress.

“Y’know,” he mused, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might just have to kiss ya right here, in front of everyone.”

You grinned, tilting your chin up just slightly. “Then do it.”

Hizashi inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening for half a second, like you’d really just tested him. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he flopped back against the couch, “You’re so cute,” he teased, “so reckless, throwin’ my heart around like it’s not already yours.”

You giggled, resting your forehead against his. “Oops.” He let out another laugh, softer this time, before pressing a quick, firm kiss to your temple. “C’mon, babe.” His voice was warm, teasing, but genuine. “Let’s get you some water before you start tryin’ to propose to me or somethin’.”

You gasped even louder, dramatically placing a hand over your heart like he had just offended you. “How dare you, Mic?”

His grin widened. “I knew it—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly between both of yours as you sat up on your knees beside him. “Hizashi Yamada,” you began, voice full of drunken conviction.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed, eyes widening.

“You are the loudest, most ridiculous, most obnoxiously handsome man I have ever met,” you declared, staring deeply into his golden eyes. “You make me laugh, you make me smile, and you make me feel like the luckiest person alive.”

Hizashi covered his mouth with his free hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Babe—”

“Shhh,” you hushed him by placing a hand on his face. then squeezing his fingers. “Let me finish.”

At this point, some of the nearby pros had started noticing. Mirko was doubled over dying in the background, Hawks was crying laughing, and even a few others had turned their heads, realizing that something was going down.

“So,” you continued, lifting his hand like you were about to slip a ring on it, “Hizashi Yamada, my dear, sweet rockstar of a boyfriend… will you—”

Hizashi lunged, scooping you up in his arms and pulling you into his lap before you could even finish. “NOPE,” he shouted, grinning wildly as you giggled hysterically. “We are NOT doin’ this in front of everybody, sweetheart!”

“But I’m serious!” you cackled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m so serious!”

Hizashi groaned, dramatically letting his forehead fall against your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Soooo… is that a yes?”

He pulled back, looked at you with the softest smile, and leaned in close, his lips barely brushing your ear as he murmured, “Ask me again when you’re sober, babe.”*

Hizashi had always known he loved you. That wasn’t new. It wasn’t some grand realization that hit him all at once it was something steady, something constant, like a favorite song playing on loop in the background of his life.

But sometimes like right now it hit him differently. You hadn’t asked what was wrong. You hadn’t pried or tried to dig into his thoughts. You’d just looked at him, noticed the way his energy had faltered for even a second, and decided that was all you needed to know.

You had run to him… well crashed into his side, curled up against him like he was the only thing that mattered in a room full of pros. You weren’t trying to fix anything, weren’t offering reassurances you didn’t even know he needed. You were just there. Holding him, looking at him like he was still the coolest guy in the room, like he was still your favorite person.

And damn if that didn’t make his chest feel too tight in the best possible way. Hizashi had spent years making other people feel seen, heard, important. That was just who he was. But you? You did that for him.

Without even trying.

And he wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but hell. he’d take it. He’d take every drunk proposal, every chaotic moment, every time you looked at him like he mattered more than the number next to his name on the hero charts.

You held his hand so tightly, no hesitation, no doubt, like letting go wasn’t even an option to you.

And as he scooped you up into his lap to stop you from dramatically proposing in front of everyone, as you giggled against him, as he told you to ask again when you were sober he knew.

Hizashi Yamada, ranked 42, loudest hero in the country, knew. If you ever did ask him again… His answer would always be yes.

—-

The second Hizashi unlocked the front door, you beelined for the couch. Well “beelined” was a strong word. It was more of a zigzagging, slightly uncoordinated stumble, courtesy of the drinks still making everything feel just a little too floaty.

“Babe” Hizashi barely had time to react before

THUMP.

You face planted directly onto the couch, limbs sprawled, dress slightly askew, completely motionless. Silence.

“Oh my god,” Hizashi wheezed, kicking the door shut behind him as laughter exploded out of him. “You good?!”

Your muffled voice came from somewhere in the couch cushions. “I live here now.”

Hizashi wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head, still grinning like an idiot. “Nah, babe, you gotta move. we gotta get you to bed.”

You dramatically threw an arm over your face. “Not anymore. This couch and I are one.”

“suuuuure.” He snorted, walking over and kneeling beside you, hands warm as he gently rubbed your back. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

You peeked out from under your arm, giving him a lazy, loopy grin. “I knooow.”

Hizashi chuckled, then leaned in, brushing a kiss against your temple. “C’mon, superstar,” he murmured. “Let’s get you outta this dress and into somethin’ comfy before you actually pass out here.”*

You hummed thoughtfully. “Counteroffer: carry me.”

Hizashi groaned dramatically, already slipping his arms under you. “You are the most spoiled human alive”

“And yet, you love me.”

He sighed, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, yeah. I really, really do.”*

As Hizashi carried you toward the bedroom, you let your head rest on his shoulder, gazing at the familiar surroundings. You’d always technically had your own place, your own space to retreat to. A sleek apartment in the heart of the city, stylish and practical. It had everything you needed, an expansive living room, a kitchen with all the gadgets, and a spacious bedroom with a view of the skyline.

But lately? You hadn’t spent much time there. You’d find yourself opting for Hizashi’s place more and more. His house was different from yours, messy in the best way, with guitars propped up against the walls and posters of old school rock bands plastered on every inch of the space. It wasn’t as polished or clean as your apartment, but that was part of its charm. The clutter felt lived in, real. Every inch of his place had his touch on it, and somehow, it felt like home in a way your apartment never quite did.

Even the sounds of the house were different, his music blaring from speakers, his laughter filling the air in a way your space had never known. And then there was the smell of his cologne, of takeout containers on the counter, and the lingering scent of old vinyl records. It was comfortable in a way your place could never be.

—-

You were already curled up on the bed, the cozy oversized hoodie of Hizashi’s hanging loosely around your shoulders as you relaxed, your eyes drifting lazily over to him.

Hizashi was standing by the dresser, pulling his shirt from his back. You could see the outline of his muscles through the fabric, his usual confident swagger already making its way into the room. The shirt came off, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Hubba hubba,” you said, low and teasing, eyes half lidded in playful admiration.

Hizashi paused mid motion, glancing at you with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, his lips twitching as he shook his head. “Really? You’ve had enough of the party already, and now you’re making comments like that?”

“I’m just appreciating the view,” you grinned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

already pulling his t-shirt off and tossing it casually over his shoulder, sending it flying directly toward you. “There. Now you can cuddle with this.”

You caught it effortlessly, wrapping it around yourself with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, this is like drugs”

Hizashi smirked, standing now in just his vest, eyes twinkling with that usual teasing glint. “You’re welcome, superstar. Now, sleep. I swear, you can’t be serious about anything right now.”

“Who said I wasn’t serious?” you teased, settling back into the pillows with the shirt around you like a blanket. “I’m just showing my appreciation for my handsome boyfriend.”

Hizashi chuckled, walking toward the bed and lying down next to you. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, already getting comfortable beside you. “Alright, enough with the compliments. We both need sleep.”

You couldn’t resist giving him one last playful glance, leaning over and kissing his cheek quickly before nestling down beside him. “Fine, fine… but I’m still thinking ‘hubba hubba’ in my head.”

He rolled his eyes once more, pulling you closer with a content sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” you whispered with a sleepy smile. “and i’m sure you wouldn’t want it any other way.” He didn’t reply right away, his arms pulling you close as you both settled in for the night.

You: i don't want to victim blame but maybe if he didn't want to be called babygirl he shouldn't have been such a babygirl. just a thought.

:0

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 Geto Suguru x Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Gojo Satoru x Reader

────୨ৎ────

oh there is another guy that’s a love interest? well let’s just let it cook for a bit first

────୨ৎ────

₍^. .^₎⟆ Synopsis: In a world of curses and power struggles take center stage, you’ve always kept to the simple aspects of life. Focussing on your studies, your friendships and life in the dorms. Though everything changes when Geto challenges Gojo that he can’t win your heart and what happens when Geto realizes that Gojo needs to lose.

⋆˚✿˖° 1. Unintended Study Breaks

⋆˚✿˖° 2. I’ve Played these Games Before

⋆˚✿˖° 3. Men who listen to Mitski

⋆˚✿˖° 4. How it feels to be a girl and do no wrong

⋆˚✿˖° 5. “What kind of woman are you attracted to”

⋆˚✿˖° 6. You are a Cougar!!!

⋆˚✿˖°

⋆˚✿˖°

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I’ll write for virtually any things that I adore, so be prepared

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Gojo Satoru x Reader | Geto Suguru x Reader

what do i have for you?

My Hero Academia | DC Comics | VideoGames

Anime |

𖦹.✧˚ MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN 𖦹.✧˚

“He asked for no pickles >:(” Trope Headcannon

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚The Classic Luigi Dilemma™ → Luigi is too nice for his own good. When the waiter sets down his plate and he realizes they got his order completely wrong, he just freezes for a second, staring at it like it personally betrayed him.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Internal Panic Mode → His brain immediately starts short circuiting. Do I say something? No, that’d be rude! But I didn’t order this! But maybe it’s fine? But I was really looking forward to- oh no, they’re walking away :(

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚The Nervous Little Smile™ → Instead of complaining, he just awkwardly chuckles and goes, “O-oh! Haha, well, um… guess I’ll just eat this, then.” Meanwhile, you can see the disappointment in his eyes

. ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Your Protective Instincts Kick In → Oh, absolutely not. This is Luigi, your sweet, beautiful, anxious boy. He deserves to eat what he actually ordered. So, before he can talk himself into suffering through it, you wave down the waiter.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Luigi’s Immediate Reaction → His eyes widen in pure terror. “W-wait, no, it’s fine! I don’t wanna cause trouble—”

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚But You’re Already On It → With the sweetest but firmest voice, you politely explain that they got his order wrong and ask them to fix it. You make sure to be nice (because you know he’d feel bad otherwise), but there’s no way you’re letting him sit there with something he doesn’t want.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Luigi.exe Has Stopped Working → He just stares at you in awe, cheeks heating up. His brain is going, Oh no they’re standing up for me I think I’m in love all over again.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚The Waiter Fixes It, and Luigi is So Grateful → The moment they walk away with his plate, he looks at you like you just saved his life. “You… you really didn’t have to do that,” he mumbles, embarrassed but so touched. ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚You Just Smile → “Of course I did! You deserve to get what you actually ordered, Luigi.”

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Flustered Boyfriend Mode Activated → He gets so shy but also so in love. He keeps fidgeting with his napkin, mumbling something about how amazing you are.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚The Happiest Green Bean → When his correct order finally arrives, he thanks the waiter about five times and then immediately takes a bite, beaming. “Mmm! Grazie!” he says, looking at you with pure adoration.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Bonus: Extra Softness → The rest of the meal, he keeps sneaking little glances at you, still blushing. At one point, he shyly reaches for your hand under the table and squeezes it. “You’re the best, you know that?”

⋆˚✿˖° Picture this ⋆˚✿˖°

Dinner was supposed to be relaxing. A nice little date, just you and Luigi, eating at a cozy restaurant in Toad Town. The kind of place with checkered tablecloths, candles on every table, and the smell of fresh-baked bread in the air.

Luigi had been excited, too he’d spent the entire walk here rambling about how much he was craving their famous mushroom risotto. So when the waiter finally brought out your food and set a plate of… was that seafood pasta? in front of him, you knew something was wrong.

Luigi blinked at the plate. Then again. Like he was hoping it would magically turn into what he actually ordered.

“Oh! Uh… haha…” He let out a nervous chuckle, shifting in his seat. “W-well, um… I guess this looks good too…?”

You frowned. “Lu, that’s not what you ordered.”

He waved a hand, already trying to play it off. “Oh, it’s no big deal! I, uh… I like pasta?” He stabbed a shrimp with his fork, his expression betraying him entirely.

Yeah, no. Absolutely not.

Before he could talk himself into just eating it, you waved down the waiter. Luigi’s eyes immediately widened in panic.

“W-wait, no, no, it’s fine! I don’t wanna bother—”

“Excuse me,” you said, smiling at the waiter, “but I think there was a mix-up. He actually ordered the mushroom risotto.”

The waiter glanced at the plate, realization dawning. “Oh! My apologies, I’ll fix that right away.”

“No problem!” you said cheerfully.

The moment the waiter walked off with his incorrect order, Luigi turned to you, absolutely beside himself. “You—you didn’t have to do that!” His face was already pink, hands nervously fiddling with his napkin. “I mean, they’re busy, and I-I didn’t wanna be a bother, and—”

You reached across the table and squeezed his hand, effectively shutting him up.

“Luigi,” you said, giving him a look. “You deserve to eat what you actually ordered.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He just stared at you, completely flustered, eyes full of awe like you just pulled off the most heroic act imaginable.

“I-I…” He cleared his throat, squeezing your hand back. “…Grazie.”

When the waiter finally returned with the correct dish, Luigi thanked him at least five times before eagerly taking his first bite. His entire face lit up in pure happiness.

“Mmm! Oh, it’s so good!” He practically melted into his seat, finally able to enjoy his meal. Then, he glanced at you, still pink in the face. “You, uh… you’re really amazing, you know that?”

You just grinned, nudging his foot under the table. “I do know that, actually.”

Luigi let out a shy little laugh, cheeks still burning. But before he could get too flustered, he shyly reached for your hand again, holding it under the table as he ate.

You didn’t miss the way his thumb softly rubbed against your skin.

Yeah. Totally worth it.

You to Luigi : oh man... sorry bro. i accidentally left some lipstick on your neck.. here let me kiss it off... shit i left more... here hold on... oh no i left even more...

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Gojo Satoru X reader

Geto Suguru X reader

────୨ৎ────

3. Men who listen to mitski

The way this took so much effort because i wanted a funny chronically online scene for the reader but then remembered it was 2006 and had re write like half of it

if you missed the last chapters —>masterlist

₍^. .^₎⟆ The next day, you found yourself training with Gojo, as usual. The air was thick with the sound of shuriken slicing through the air, but something was off. Gojo’s movements weren’t as fluid as usual, his energy wasn’t as contagious.

“You’re a little off today,” you commented, narrowly dodging a sudden flurry of shuriken that came your way. You grinned, trying to keep the atmosphere light, but it was clear something wasn’t right.

He flashed you a grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Am I? Maybe you’re just slow today,” he replied, his voice teasing, but there was a strange sharpness to it that made you furrow your brow.

You took a step back, studying him carefully. This wasn’t the usual Gojo. The playful tone that usually had you laughing was gone, replaced by something more… tense. But you didn’t want to focus on it. You were here to train, not to try and read his mood.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, trying to keep things casual.

Gojo didn’t answer. Instead, his grin morphed into something more teasing, his eyes glinting with a strange intensity. “So, last night… you had fun with Geto, huh?” he asked, voice casual, but the words cut sharper than they should’ve.

You blinked, surprised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gojo shrugged, his expression light, but there was a tension in the air that you couldn’t ignore. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “Just noticed the jacket. You two seemed… cozy.” His grin was still in place, but there was something more biting about it now.

Your stomach tightened. That was the second time he’d mentioned Geto today. You didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t sit right with you. “It’s just a jacket,” you said, trying to laugh it off.

His eyes narrowed, and the playful façade slipped for just a moment, revealing a flash of something deeper something that made you uncomfortable. “Hmm. Sure. But you know, you could’ve asked for my jacket. I thought we were closer. Guess I was wrong,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You felt a knot form in your chest. What was this? Why was Gojo acting like this? You weren’t even sure what was going on between you and Geto, but it didn’t feel like you’d done anything wrong. Yet, Gojo was making you feel like you had.

The next barrage of shuriken came at you, and you barely dodged in time. One grazed your shoulder, and you winced, irritation bubbling up. You tried to shake it off and focus on the fight. “Are you gonna keep throwing these until you get it out of your system?” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease creeping up your spine.

Gojo tilted his head, his eyes sharp. “What, are you mad?” His tone was light, but there was an edge to it now. “I just didn’t expect you to be all… buddy-buddy with him. It’s cute though, you two matching. Really sweet.”

You gritted your teeth, frustration flooding in. “What’s your problem, Gojo?”

“My problem?” He threw another shuriken at you, sharper, faster than the others. “You’re my problem. You—” He stopped himself, clearly realizing too late he’d said something more than he’d meant to. “You know what? Never mind. Just keep dodging.”

Another barrage came at you, but you avoided them with ease, though your patience was starting to wear thin. You weren’t going to let him throw you off track, but you could feel the growing tension between you.

“Gojo,” you began again, trying to force some calm into your voice, “What’s going on with you today?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just stood there, his usual nonchalance slowly returning, but it was forced, like he was trying too hard to keep up the front. “Nothing,” he muttered, his tone flat. “I’m just messing with you. Nothing’s going on.”

You narrowed your eyes, seeing through the cracks in his mask. There was something he wasn’t saying, and it was frustrating the hell out of you. “Look,” you said, taking a deep breath, “If you’ve got an issue with me or with Geto, just say it. I’m not gonna guess at what you’re thinking.”

Gojo flashed you that signature grin, the one that always made you feel like everything was fine, like nothing was too serious, but this time it felt like he wasn’t trying to comfort you “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m just here to make you sweat. Keep up.”

But there was no real challenge in his voice anymore. His movements were slow, almost lazy, and you could tell he wasn’t really pushing you anymore. He was holding back, but you had no idea why.

The frustration was bubbling up inside you, a sense of unease you couldn’t shake. “Don’t give me that. You’ve never acted like this before.” You stepped forward, trying to keep your tone steady, but it was hard with the emotions swirling. “So, what’s going on, Gojo? Why are you acting like this?”

For a moment, Gojo’s grin faltered, just barely, before he quickly masked it with another casual shrug. “Nothing,” he repeated. “I’m just messing with you.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure whether to push further or to drop it. The problem was, you couldn’t drop it, not when you could see something shifting beneath the surface. You had no idea if it was jealousy, frustration, or something else entirely, but something was off, and it wasn’t just with him.

You bit your lip, trying to push the sinking feeling down. Maybe today wasn’t the day for answers, but you knew Gojo had something on his mind.

Then, just as you were about to take another step, you felt the sharp sting from your shoulder, the spot where the shuriken had grazed you earlier. You winced, holding your arm as you glanced at Gojo. He noticed, immediately dropping his teasing demeanor and stepping forward.

“Hey,” he said, his tone suddenly soft, all traces of the previous tension gone. “Let me see.” His voice was unexpectedly gentle, and you could hear the concern, even though he was trying to hide it.

You hesitated for a second before pulling your hand away, letting him check the cut. Gojo gently ran his fingers over the wound, his touch surprisingly careful. His usual cocky grin had disappeared, replaced by a quiet intensity as he inspected it.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.

You shook your head, a little stunned by the sudden shift. “It’s fine, Gojo. It’s just a scratch.”

He didn’t seem convinced, still looking at the injury like it was more serious than it was. “Still,” he muttered, “don’t want you hurt, okay?” he lets out a small sigh “especially by me.”

You watched him, confused by the sudden change in mood. A second ago, he’d been throwing jabs at you, both literal and verbal and now here he was, tending to you like it was nothing.

You tried to read him, but Gojo’s face was a mask again, the playful grin returning even if it didn’t quite match his eyes. “cmon let’s get it wrapped up,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cocky cadence.

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to piece everything together. But Gojo didn’t seem to want to dive any deeper. He gave you one last look, and you could almost hear the unsaid words in the air between you, but he turned away quickly, dragging you without another word.

You followed, still holding your shoulder, the weight of everything left unsaid hanging heavily in the air.

—

a few years previously

It was a warm summer afternoon, the sun casting a golden glow over the playground where you and Gojo had spent countless hours together since childhood. The two of you were sprawled out on the grass, the faint smell of fresh cut grass mixing with the summer air. You lay side by side, heads tilted back, eyes staring up at the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily by.

“Hey, remember when we used to pretend we were superheroes?” Gojo asked, his voice light, as if it was just yesterday that you both had made up all kinds of ridiculous adventures.

You chuckled, turning your head to look at him. “Yeah, and you always insisted on being the most powerful one, even when I was clearly the more strategic one.”

He shot you a teasing grin, his white hair falling messily across his forehead. “Well I am the most powerful so I had to be the strong one. You needed someone to protect you.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Please, I was always the one saving you. You had no idea how to plan. I was the brains of the operation.”

Gojo laughed, the sound carefree, like it always was when the two of you were together. “Fine, fine. You were the brains, and I was the muscle.”

“Yeah, I can’t fight you on that one,” you agreed, smiling softly.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence, the memories of childhood games and adventures playing in your mind like a movie you couldn’t stop watching. It felt strange to think about how things were about to change, how high school would be the next step for both of you, separating you from the simplicity of these carefree days.

“Hey, you think we’ll still hang out after we start high school?” Gojo asked suddenly, his voice quieter now, like he was considering something a little more serious than usual.

You shifted, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him more closely. “Of course we will,” you said with confidence, though part of you was unsure, a little nervous. “We’ve been close since we were little. That’s not going to change just because we go to high school.”

Gojo turned his head to face you, his blue eyes unusually soft. “Yeah, but what if everyone else is… different? What if we’re not as close as we were?”

You smiled, giving him a small, reassuring nudge. “Gojo, we’ve always been close. No matter what happens, that’s not going to change. We’re always going to be us.”

He smiled back, a little brighter this time, though there was a flicker of uncertainty behind his eyes that only you seemed to catch. “Yeah. You’re right.”

You both lay back down, your fingers brushing for a moment before you settled into the grass again, the sound of the wind in the trees the only noise filling the space between you. It was moments like these that made you feel like time would never move forward, like nothing could ever pull the two of you apart.

As you both lay there, it was clear, no matter what high school would bring, you and Gojo would always be close. That bond was unshakable. And even as life would change, as it always did, you knew that it would never quite change the way you felt when you were together.

—

After practice, the tension that had settled between you and Gojo still lingered, but it was quieter now, more subdued. The usual spark in his eyes was a little dimmer, his usual cocky grin tucked away. “Hey,” Gojo finally spoke, breaking the quiet, though his voice wasn’t as playful as usual. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’re apologizing now?”

He shrugged, running a hand through his messy white hair. “I don’t know. Just… being a little much today, I guess. Got in my own head for no reason.”

You glanced at him, still unsure what was going on. “You’ve been weird since practice. What happened?”

Gojo sighed, glancing ahead as if unsure how to explain himself. “I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t like how things were last night. With Geto, I mean. I wasn’t mad, but… I guess I felt a little weird about it.”

You blinked, trying to piece it together. “Weird how? You think I did something wrong?”

“No, no, not that,” Gojo said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just that you two seemed so… comfortable. It’s like I wasn’t part of the picture, y’know?” He stopped walking for a second, looking at the ground like he was thinking it over. “I guess I just got a little insecure about it, but that’s on me, not you.”

The confession hung in the air, and for a moment, you were silent, letting it sink in. “You don’t need to worry about that. I mean, we’re all friends, right? Geto and I… we were just talking. Nothing more.”

Gojo’s eyes softened slightly, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know. It was dumb. But sometimes I get caught up in my own head, and things just get weird. I don’t want to make things uncomfortable.”

You smiled gently, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s fine. Just don’t go making assumptions, okay? If something’s bothering you, just talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gojo flashed a small smile at that, but it wasn’t his usual smirk. It was quieter, more thoughtful. “Yeah. I guess I need to stop overthinking stuff.”

You both continued walking, the silence between you now more comfortable. “So, are we good now?” you asked, breaking the quiet again.

Gojo nodded. “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll try not to be such a pain in the ass next time.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow. “Just don’t be a jerk. That’s all I ask.”

He grinned then, the familiar playful glint returning to his eyes, though it was tempered with something more sincere now. “Deal. But you know you love me anyway.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, sure. You’re my idiot.”

Gojo chuckled, the tension between you now feeling like a distant memory. “Yeah, and I’m fine with that.”

The two of you continued walking, The day had just started and nobody like gojo could make you feel so much in such little time.

—————

Shoko Ieiri never asked to be the unwilling audience to whatever tragic, slow burn, one sided romantic drama her two idiot best friends were trying to pull off. But alas, here she was in the front row seat to the disaster. So let’s present a four part mini opera of watching a dumpster fire puke out babies.

Act One:

It was another regular morning at Jujutsu High. The classroom was quiet, everyone minding their business, trying to get through the day without anything too ridiculous happening. Wishful thinking. Because on the other side of the room, Y/n was drumming their pencil against the desk, humming a tune.

Gojo leaned in, ever so smooth, flashing his usual grin. “Hey, Y/n, what do you say we grab lunch together? Just the two of us?”

Ah, there it was. The daily delusion. Shoko sighed, resting her chin in her palm, waiting for the inevitable crash and burn.

Y/n turned, their face with confusion, not with realization, but pure, innocent excitement. “Gojo, don’t we all eat lunch together everyday? that’s like a no brainer.”

Gojo’s grin faltered for half a second before he recovered. “…Yeah… sure, whatever. You’re just so fun to be around, Y/n. It’s never a harm to ask” He threw in a wink, as if that was going to help.

Shoko took a slow sip from her water bottle . Pathetic. Then looking at her bottle, the stickers all plastered were from you every time you go out to the city in tokyo. You always bring back one for her

Looking back up you were already turning away to her direction. “Hey, Shoko, did you watch that episode of Nana I was telling you about? It was so good!”

Gojo blinked. Shoko stared.

Amazing. That was a direct hit. Instant death. No jujutsu technique needed.

Gojo slumped over his desk, muttering something about how he was right there and you could talk about that show with him while Shoko just smirked. This was getting entertaining.

Act Two:

Between classes, everyone filtered through the hallways, chatting, stretching, or plotting how to sneak past Yaga’s next lecture. But Shoko? She was once again a reluctant bystander to whatever foolishness Geto was about to attempt.

Geto, the smooth talker, slid in with an almost dramatic tone. “So, there’s this new café that opened up downtown. Maybe we could check it out later today? I’m know you’d love the desserts.”

Now, a normal person would recognize this for what it was, an invitation, a clear attempt at spending time together, possibly even a date.

Y/n was not a normal person.

“Oh! I love desserts! But—” They suddenly stopped, looking deep in thought. “Oh! I still have some cookies left from last week’s batch. I should probably finish those before they get stale.”

Geto blinked, his calculated charm thrown completely off course. “Uh, yeah. I guess that would be a smart thing to do.”

Shoko stifled a laugh. Geto, you absolute fool. You thought you were different?

He tried again, nudging them slightly. “But if you do decide to ditch the cookies, I’ll happily accompany you”

Y/n grinned. “That sounds fun, but I really do love my cookies.”

And there it is. Another fatality.

Geto sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Right, right…”

Act Three:

By the afternoon, the four of them had gathered in the courtyard, basking in the rare moment of peace before things inevitably went to hell again. Shoko, once again, sat back to enjoy the train wreck unfold.

Gojo tried first. “So, I was thinking… We could go out for ice cream later. Just the two of us.”

A good attempt. Direct, casual. Maybe this time?

“Ice cream? Oh, that sounds fun!” Y/n nodded, and for a brief moment, hope glimmered in Gojo’s eyes. But then.

“Though I should probably focus on dinner first. Maybe I should stop by the store later for ingredients.”

Gojo smiled, but it was strained. “Yeah… sure, ingredients for dinner.” He shot Geto a please, I’m dying here look, but Geto only shrugged.

Geto leaned in, voice smooth as always. “Honestly, you should just let me take you out to dinner instead. We know by now I know all the best spots. No need to worry about cooking.”

Y/n blinked before smiling. “Oh! That’s so sweet of you, Geto! But, I swear, I’m so bad at picking good places”

Here it comes, Shoko thought, already knowing where this was headed.

“—Like, I thought that noodle place last week was a great idea, and then it was super salty, and—”

Geto chuckled, exasperated. “Yeah, well, that’s why I said i’ll just take you to the best places. No more bad decisions.”

“Wow, you’re are so thoughtful!” Y/n beamed. “Maybe we should all go together, huh? That would be fun!”

Gojo and Geto exchanged a silent look.

They’re not gonna make it.

Shoko sighed, tossing her cigarette away.

Act Four:

Later that afternoon, everyone was gathered at the training grounds, but the real battle had nothing to do with cursed techniques. It was the ongoing war of Will she ever take a hint?

Spoiler: No.

Gojo leaned toward Geto, whispering, “This is getting ridiculous. I should just straight up ask.”

Geto sighed. “Nah. If she’s not getting it now, she never will. just need to wait for the perfect moment.”

Meanwhile, Y/n practically skipped past them, grinning. “Hey, Gojo, Geto! After training, you wanna come watch me try this new recipe I found? I bet it’ll be fun!”

Gojo and Geto exchanged yet another defeated glance before sighing in unison.

Shoko exhaled, flicking her lighter open and shut. Idiots. All of them. But at least it was entertaining.

Maybe one day they’d figure it out.

…Probably not.

—-

The sun beginning to set as you and Geto found yourselves finishing up with the day’s training. Most of the students had already scattered, and Gojo had disappeared to God knows where, leaving just you and Geto alone in the training grounds.

You were still bouncing around with that same vibrant energy, talking about all sorts of things, mostly food, as usual. Geto watched you for a moment, a smirk on his lips. He had tried so many times to ask you out subtly, to flirt here and there, but you were always too distracted by something else, too bubbly to catch the hints.

He sighed softly, running a hand through his black hair. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying your company, it was exactly the opposite. You were easy to be around, your endless energy infectious, and his patience had reached its limit.

You turned to him, noticing the way he was looking at you. “What’s up, Geto? You look like you’re thinking hard about something.”

He took a step closer, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made you blink in surprise. “Alright, enough of this.” He said it bluntly, no more jokes or subtle hints. “Listen, you and I are making ramen tonight. Just us. No Gojo, no distractions. We’re doing this.”

You tilted your head, completely oblivious to the seriousness in his voice. “Ramen? Ooh, sounds fun! Wait, do you mean like, together together?” You asked, your enthusiasm growing.

Geto felt a small chuckle bubble up. “Yeah, together together.” He mimicked your tone, feeling a little ridiculous at how long he’d been trying to get you to notice the actual intentions behind his words. “Just the two of us. We’re cooking. No interruptions.”

It finally clicked. He could see the sparkle in your eyes as your face lit up. “Oh! That sounds amazing! I love making ramen! We can make it super spicy, and I’ll bring the snacks!!”

He paused, staring at you for a moment as the realization hit him: Maybe he had been going about it all wrong. You weren’t the kind of person who needed subtlety or flirty comments to catch on. No, you needed directness.

“Exactly,” Geto said, a little more softly, his usual teasing smile playing on his lips. “Just you and me. No distractions. We’ll make the perfect ramen.”

You bounced on your heels, the excitement in your voice palpable. “Yes! I’m so down. Let’s make it a fun night! I promise I’ll keep the kitchen mess to a minimum… well, mostly.” You laughed, already imagining how the night would go.

Geto shook his head fondly, a warm smile finally tugging at his lips. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

As the two of you walked off together to gather ingredients, he couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter. Maybe it wasn’t about trying so hard to get your attention. Maybe it was just about spending time together, letting things unfold naturally. Tonight was a start, at least.

And as you skipped ahead, chattering excitedly about ramen, Geto’s heart did something strange, something he hadn’t quite expected. Maybe this was the way to get closer to you after all.

—-

The quiet hum of the city outside was drowned out by the bubbling broth on the stove and your excited rambling about spice levels.

Suguru found himself watching you more than actually cooking. You were fully in your element, tossing ingredients into the pot with reckless confidence, tasting as you went, adjusting flavors with an enthusiasm that made him smile.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, this thing where he always tried to pull your attention toward him. maybe it was when he first laid his eye on you. He could never tell. Being around you warped his sense of composure Maybe it was back when Gojo first took an interest in you loud, obnoxious, and always draped over your shoulder, demanding your attention.

Suguru had done the same, in his own way. Casual compliments, lingering glances, even slipping little jokes into conversations that only you would catch. But no matter what, you never seemed to pick up on it. If Gojo did the exact same thing, you just laughed, played along, as if it was all part of the game.

Had you ever noticed that Suguru was trying just as hard? That he had been fighting for your attention this whole time?

“Suguru,” your voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. You were holding a ladle out to him, expectantly. “Taste test.”

He blinked, then leaned down, taking a careful sip. The broth was rich, spicy, just a little too much heat but that was exactly how you liked it.

You grinned at him. “Good, right?”

He licked his lips, letting the flavor settle before nodding. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

Your grin widened as you turned back to the stove, humming to yourself.

Suguru exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. Maybe all this time, he had been making things too complicated. Maybe it wasn’t about trying to win your attention over Gojo’s, or proving something to himself. Maybe it was just about moments like this standing next to you, cooking together, existing in a space that was just yours.

He reached over, plucking a noodle from the pot before you could swat his hand away.

“Hey!” You huffed, glaring playfully. “Patience, Geto.”

He smirked, chewing as he leaned against the counter. “I’ve been patient for a long time.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was warmth in your expression. “Well, it’s paying off now, isn’t it?”

Suguru paused. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. Yeah. Maybe it was.

—

Suguru smirked as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you fuss over the ramen. The way you were talking fast paced, slightly dramatic, and full of over the top confidence reminded him of someone else.

“You know,” he said casually, “I’m starting to think that when Gojo isn’t around, you just turn into a mini version of him.”

You froze mid-stir, turning to face him with an exaggerated gasp. “Excuse me?”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Think about it. You get loud, overly confident, and act like you’re the star of the show. Sound familiar?”

You pointed the ladle at him, scandalized. “I do not act like Satoru.”

Suguru chuckled. “You literally just did the dramatic gasp he does whenever someone insults him.”

Your mouth opened to argue, but then you paused, replaying your own reaction in your head. A look of horror crossed your face. “Oh my God.”

“There it is,” Suguru teased, laughing. “Acceptance is the first step.”

You groaned, dramatically slumping against the counter. “This is terrible. I can’t be like him! I have dignity!”

“Uh huh.” Suguru rolled his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You grumbled under your breath as you went back to stirring the ramen. “I don’t even wear ugly sunglasses like he does.”

“Yet.”

You whipped around and flicked a droplet of broth at him, making him dodge back with a laugh.

“This is slander,” you huffed, but there was amusement in your eyes. “I’m way cooler than Satoru.”

Suguru hummed, pretending to think. “Eh. Debatable.”

You scoffed, shoving him lightly. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am, spending my night with you instead of doing literally anything else.”

You paused at that, blinking up at him. Suguru realized a second too late how genuine that had sounded.

You tilted your head. “Is that your way of saying you like spending time with me?”

Suguru clicked his tongue, turning back to the counter to hide his face. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, mini Satoru.”

You snorted, bumping his shoulder before going back to the ramen. “Whatever you say. Regular boring sized Suguru”

He sighed, shaking his head but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure why, but something about this moment felt… different. The usual teasing from Gojo was absent, no one else was around to interrupt, and for once, he had your attention all to himself.

“You keep staring,” you said suddenly, not looking up from the pot.

Suguru blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah? Maybe I just like watching you cook.”

You snorted, finally glancing at him. “You’re just waiting for me to mess something up, aren’t you?”

“Now why would I do that?” He grinned, but the truth was, he hadn’t even thought about the mess you were inevitably going to make. His mind had been too preoccupied with something else something he hadn’t quite figured out how to say yet.

You waved a hand at him. “Okay, okay, taste test round two.” You scooped up a bit of broth and held the spoon out. “Be honest.”

Suguru leaned in, lips brushing the spoon as he took a slow sip. Your eyes were locked on him, waiting expectantly.

“…It’s good.”

“That’s it?” You frowned, tilting your head. “Just ‘good’?”

Suguru held back a chuckle. “It’s really good.”

You beamed. “That’s better.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken only by the occasional bubbling of the pot. Suguru knew he should say something should bring up the fact that he wasn’t here just because of the ramen, that he wasn’t just tagging along for fun. But the words felt… stuck.

He’d spent so long trying to get you to notice him, to see him the way he saw you. But Gojo was always there, taking up space, making everything a competition. Suguru had been competing without even realizing it.

Maybe it wasn’t a competition at all. Maybe it was just this.

“You’re thinking really hard about something again,” you pointed out, nudging him with your elbow. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Suguru scoffed. “Very funny.”

“I am funny,” you shot back before turning back to the stove, humming to yourself.

Suguru hesitated, then reached out, lightly tugging at the sleeve of your uniform.

You blinked, looking up at him in confusion. “What?”

For once, Suguru didn’t try to be subtle.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

You tilted your head. “thank you? what do you mean”

He chuckled. “for… being yourself. with me, I’m glad it’s just us.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, Suguru thought just maybe you finally understood what he meant.

You smiled. “Me too.”

And for now, that was enough.

You and Geto leaned back in your chairs, full and satisfied after your surprisingly successful attempt at making ramen. The kitchen was a complete disaster, a few stray noodles on the floor, and broth splashed in places you definitely didn’t remember spilling it

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you grinned. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie… that might’ve been one of the best meals I’ve had in a while.”

Geto stretched his arms behind his head, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. This turned out better than I expected. Though… I’m still not sure how I feel about all the weird internet jokes you kept throwing in.”

You gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? Those are top tier. Don’t act like you didn’t laugh when I said, ‘I like turtles.’”

“I laughed because it was random,” he said, shaking his head, though amusement flickered in his eyes. “Honestly, I’m starting to think you spend too much time online.”

You scoffed. “Hey, just because you don’t appreciate the beauty of Charlie the Unicorn doesn’t mean I have a problem.”

Geto groaned. “That was disturbing. You made me watch a video about a unicorn getting its kidney stolen.”

“It’s iconic,” you corrected. “If you don’t know about Charlie, You don’t deserve the internet at all”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s kinda the goal.”

You shook your head in mock disappointment. “Wow. So you’re telling me you don’t even check MySpace every day?”

“Nope.”

You gasped again. “You don’t even… wait, do you even have a MySpace?”

Geto smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Oh my God. You don’t, do you?” You pointed at him. “You’re a MySpace hater.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say I hate it. I just don’t see the point of telling the whole world my favorite song and ranking my friends.”

“You are so lucky we made good ramen, or else I’d be rethinking this friendship.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’ll live.”

You slumped dramatically in your chair. “This is honestly tragic. You probably don’t even know about ‘Peanut Butter Jelly Time.’”

Geto rolled his eyes, but he was clearly holding back a laugh. “I know about it. And I regret knowing about it.”

“You just have no taste,” you said with a grin, finishing off the last bit of broth in your bowl. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to educate you properly. By the end of this year, you’ll be quoting ‘The End of the World’ without even realizing it.”

He gave you a side glance. “If that happens, I need you to know that it’s entirely your fault.”

“Obviously,” you said proudly.

Geto shook his head, his smirk softening. “Still, I gotta admit… all this internet nonsense? It makes you you.”

You paused, stomach flipping slightly at the unexpected sincerity in his tone.

“Wow,” you teased, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re getting all sentimental on me now?”

He shrugged. “Just telling the truth.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re still insufferable.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning a little softer. “You love it.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “If you say so. But I’m still not forgiving you for all that slander against early internet culture.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find some way to get back at me,” Geto said, moving to clear the dishes like it was no big deal. “But for now, I’ll give you the win. The ramen was good.”

You leaned back in your chair, watching him. “You’re not half bad yourself, you know.”

He met your gaze, smiling in that quiet, knowing way of his. “Maybe next time, I’ll teach you how to cook something special. Not just ramen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You just wanna flex your superior cooking skills.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink as he rinsed his bowl. “Or maybe I just like spending time with you.”

Your heart did a weird little flip. He didn’t even seem to realize what he’d just said, but it hit you harder than you expected.

You blinked, covering it up with an easy smirk. “Oh? And here I thought I was the one keeping things interesting.”

He shot you a teasing look over his shoulder. “You do. That’s why I keep coming back.”

But then, with a final chuckle, Geto turned back to the sink, and the moment passed. You exhaled, pushing yourself up to help him clean. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you have this one.”

“Good,” he said with that infuriatingly smug smile. “You know I don’t like to lose.”

You rolled your eyes, but your grin stayed put. now busy packing away the leftovers from your ramen experiment, the kitchen finally settling into some semblance of order after the chaos of cooking. Humming to yourself, you scraped the last of the broth into a container, already thinking about what to do next.

“Hey,” you called over your shoulder, “we should have a movie night. You, me, Gojo, and Shoko. It’ll be fun.”

At the sink, Geto let out a small, barely audible sigh as he wiped down the counter. It was so subtle you almost missed it, but something about the way his shoulders tensed made you glance over at him. He didn’t say anything, just kept scrubbing at an already clean spot like it had personally offended him.

“Movie night?” you repeated, a little softer now. “It’s been a while since we all hung out. We can watch something dumb like She’s the Man or Napoleon Dynamite, just eat snacks and chill.”

Another pause. This time, you caught the way his jaw tensed before he exhaled.

“You in?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to read him.

“Yeah, sounds great,” he replied, but his voice was flat, and when he put the dishcloth down, he did it with way too much care like he was making an effort not to be rough with it.

Something was definitely off.

You smiled at him anyway, hoping to lighten the mood. “Awesome! I’ll text everyone and see what they wanna watch.”

Grabbing your phone, you started typing, but you kept sneaking glances at Geto. He had moved to the fridge now, but instead of grabbing anything, he just stared inside like it would tell him what to do next. His fingers tapped idly against the door, and his expression was distant, like he wasn’t really present.

You hesitated before speaking again. “Hey,” you said gently, “are you okay?”

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had him distracted. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Just tired.”

You didn’t entirely believe him, but you also didn’t want to push. Instead, you softened your approach. “too much ramen?”

He gave a small shrug. “Something like that.”

You hummed in understanding. “Well, no pressure. If you don’t feel up for a movie night, I can make up some excuse to cancel. Ill say gojos ego gave me a headache or something.”

That got a small chuckle out of him brief, but there. “Tempting,” he admitted, closing the fridge without taking anything. “But it’s fine. I don’t mind hanging out.”

You smiled. “Good. But if you do want to dip early or just chill instead of watching some dumb comedy, just say the word, okay?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time that evening, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. “Alright,” he said, softer this time. “Thanks.”

Feeling like you’d at least chipped away at whatever was bothering him, you turned back to your phone. “Cool. Everyone’s in. We’ll start at eight.”

He nodded, walking over to lean against the counter, watching as you set your phone down. He seemed calmer now, but there was still something unreadable in his expression.

“You want me to pick up snacks?” you asked, glancing at him.

“No need,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got it covered.”

You studied him for a second, then decided to let it go. Instead, you grinned. “Alright, cool. Then I’ll focus on setting up the couch. You know how Gojo is about his pillow arrangements.”

That actually got another small smirk out of him, and he shook his head in mild exasperation. “Yeah. He acts like he needs a throne to watch a movie.”

You laughed. “Exactly! Which is why I will be taking the best spot before he gets here.”

Geto just shook his head again, but there was warmth behind his usual sarcasm this time.

You grabbed a blanket from the corner and started draping it over the couch. “Okay, so what do you wanna watch?”

He shrugged. “I’m fine with whatever.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Come on. You always have opinions about movies. What’s your guilty pleasure pick?”

He rolled his eyes but smirked slightly. “I don’t have one.”

You gasped dramatically. “Not even The Lizzie McGuire Movie?”

“Not a chance.”

“Alright, what about High School Musical?”

“Still no.”

You huffed. “You hate joy.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t hate joy. I just don’t need to watch a bunch of teenagers dramatically singing about basketball.”

“Fine,” you said, dramatically flopping onto the couch. “Then you pick something.”

He thought for a second, then finally said, “How about Pirates of the Caribbean?”

You perked up. “Okay, solid choice. Jack Sparrow is iconic.”

Geto smirked. “Exactly.”

—

You were digging through your closet, feeling content now that the tension from earlier had faded a little. “This is gonna be fun,” you murmured, pulling a blanket out and throwing it on the bed.

From across the room, Geto hesitated, watching you. The frustration that had been lingering in his expression all night seemed to finally fade, replaced by something quieter something softer.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head to himself before heading to grab the dishes. “Yeah,” he muttered, almost too quiet for you to hear. “It will be.”

—

adjusting the TV, making sure everything was perfect for the upcoming movie night. The room was cozy, blankets spread across the floor, pillows carefully arranged on the couch. You had even set up a snack station chips, candy, and, of course, a bowl of ramen (leftovers from earlier). Satisfied, you were just about to sit down and relax when

BAM!

Gojo burst through the door like a human hurricane, his usual cocky grin stretched across his face, eyes alight with excitement.

Before you could react

WHAM!

He scooped you up effortlessly, lifting you clean off the ground like some kind of overexcited golden retriever in human form.

“Movie night!” he shouted, his voice way too loud for the small space. “It’s starting! Let’s gooooo!”

You let out a surprised squeal, kicking your legs as you tried to break free. “Gojo! What the hell? Put me down!”

But he only laughed, spinning you around like a ragdoll. “You were taking too long! We gotta get in the zone mentally, physically, spiritually—”

“You’re gonna break my back, you psycho!”

From the couch, Geto watched the scene unfold with mild amusement, lazily popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. His expression was unreadable, but the way he leaned back with an arm draped over the back of the couch told you he was thoroughly entertained.

“Gojo, let her breathe,” Geto finally said, though his voice held no real urgency. “We do still need her conscious for the movie.”

Gojo scoffed but finally let you go, dropping you onto a pile of pillows with exaggerated care. “There. Safe and sound!”

You huffed, pushing your hair out of your face as you shot him a glare. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep inviting me back,” he teased, plopping down beside you like he hadn’t just thrown you around like a wrestling dummy.

Shaking your head, you turned to Geto. “Can you believe him?”

Geto smirked. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d been wounded. “Betrayed. By my own best friends.”

“Shoko’s not even here yet,” you pointed out, looking at the clock. “She’s late as always.”

Geto hummed. “Classic Shoko.”

“Alright, alright, what are we watching?” Gojo said, grabbing the remote and scrolling aimlessly through the DVD menu. “Because I vote Shrek. A classic. Iconic. Timeless.”

Geto groaned. “We watched that last time and we already decided a movie.”

“Yeah, because it’s good,” Gojo argued. “What else are we gonna watch? The Notebook?” He made an exaggerated gagging sound.

You rolled your eyes. “like something with actual adventure? Like Pirates of the Caribbean?”

At that, both Gojo and Geto perked up slightly.

“Oh,” Gojo said, considering it. “You know what? That is a solid choice.”

Geto nodded.

You grinned. “Great, then it’s settled. Captain Jack Sparrow it is.”

As you pressed play, the usual chaos settled into a comfortable stillness. The glow of the TV flickered across the room, casting warm shadows on the walls. The energy from earlier had finally evened out, leaving only the familiar quiet of good company.

Gojo, predictably, ended up sprawled next to you, his head resting against your shoulder like he’d done it a thousand times before. He hadn’t even asked, just flopped down with a content sigh, making himself at home.

Meanwhile, Geto had claimed his usual spot infront of you, his posture relaxed but still composed, his eyes half lidded as he absently ate from the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

Shoko, having arrived late as usual, was already half asleep, curled up on the floor in a pile of pillows. The quiet rise and fall of her breathing mixed with the sounds of the movie playing in the background.

Gojo shifted slightly, pressing closer, his arm draping lazily over your side. “You make a great headrests,” he murmured, half awake.

You huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t move away. “You’re lucky I tolerate you.”

“I know,” he sighed, fully content.

Geto, looking back from his spot, shook his head in mild exasperation, As the movie played on, the world outside seemed to fade. You, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko just the four of you, tangled in blankets, sharing warmth and quiet moments that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

In the soft silence of the room, you felt the small, intimate moments that made this all feel so right. Gojo’s head, warm and heavy against your shoulder, the gentle movement of his hand as it brushed against your side occasionally, a reminder that even in his antics, he still found peace in being close to you. Geto’s calm presence, so steady, grounding The feeling of being wrapped in their presence was quiet, comforting.

Gojo shifted again, scooting just a little closer, his body curling into you with an ease that made you smile despite yourself. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there, but you realized the movie was mostly a background noise now, the quiet comfort of their presence making everything else fade away.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through gojo’s hair, the softness of it a comforting distraction. His bright strands slipped through your fingers, each motion slow and deliberate. It was soothing his hair, the steady sound of the movie in the background, the rhythmic rise and fall of Gojo’s breathing as he laid next to you, perfectly at ease. It felt like the world outside had disappeared for a while.

You glanced at Shoko, who had sprawled herself out on the floor in a nest of pillows. Her usual indifference was replaced with a rare, unbothered expression, her eyes closed as she softly snored, blissfully unaware of the world. You couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Of course, she’s asleep already.

——

Geto’s footsteps were silent as he made his way to the door, but even in the quiet, he couldn’t quite escape the feeling that settled in his chest. He paused for a moment, glancing back at the scene in front of him. The room was still, save for the soft rise and fall of your breathing as you lay peacefully between Gojo’s arms. Gojo had shifted so that he was fully curled around you, his head resting gently on top of yours, as if you were always meant to be this close. Your soft breaths were a contrast to the rhythmic rise and fall of Gojo’s chest, which seemed impossibly calm despite the chaos of their lives.

For a moment, Geto stood there, just watching. There was something so comforting about the image of you nestled in Gojo’s arms. It was peaceful. It was perfect. But it made something twist inside him something old, something familiar. Something that had always been there, lurking, every time he let his heart wander too far into thoughts of you.

You had always been Gojo’s, whether you’d known it or not. The bond they shared had always been clear, too strong to ignore. Geto wasn’t foolish enough to pretend it wasn’t. They’d always been together friends, partners in everything from training to missions and while Geto knew his place, he couldn’t help but want more. He wanted more than just being the second person in the room. More than always being the one to stand in Gojo’s shadow, even when he told himself it was fine, it was enough.

And yet, despite the ache, despite the pull of his emotions that made his chest tight, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Not from you. Not from this.

His eyes softened, his gaze lingering on you as you lay between Gojo’s arms, still unaware of his presence. He wished, for just a moment, that things were different. That you could see it the way he did see him the way he wanted you to. But it was easier to be the one in the background. It was safer, less complicated.

You were happy like this, with Gojo, and Geto could never bring himself to take that away from you.

But there was always that gnawing feeling, that silent, quiet resentment that clung to him. The bitter realization that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he might want it, he was always going to be the one left behind. The second option. The one who watched from the sidelines as Gojo took what he wanted what you wanted.

He swallowed hard, turning his back to the room, his fingers brushing lightly against the doorframe. He let out a soft, almost inaudible exhale. “Maybe next time,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely a murmur.

He didn’t give up. Not on you, not on his feelings, not on his place in your life.

But tonight, as he watched Gojo protectively curl around you, the ache in his chest was a little more difficult to ignore. And for a moment, just a moment, Geto let himself feel it let himself feel the weight of being the one who always stood at the edge of the frame, never truly part of the picture.

He pushed the door open quietly, slipping out into the hallway with a final glance at the scene. And then, he let it go for now.

He would wait.

Just like he always had.

—

The early morning light filtered through your window, casting a soft, hazy glow across the room. The sound of steady breathing filled the space, the comforting rhythm of Gojo and Shoko still deep in sleep beside you. But something felt off. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. You had been half awake for a while, the warmth of Gojo’s arm around you, the soft rustling of Shoko in her sleep, but your mind kept wandering back to Geto.

He hadn’t been with you all morning.

You slid carefully from your bed, trying not to disturb Gojo or Shoko, and crept out into the hallway, padding softly toward Geto’s room. The floorboards creaked lightly underfoot, but the house was still and quiet in the early hours. When you reached the door, you hesitated for just a moment before gently pushing it open.

Geto was there. He stood near the window, his back to you, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. His figure was a silhouette against the light, bathed in the soft golden light of dawn. His posture was still, almost too still, like he was lost in his own thoughts.

You stepped closer, careful not to disturb him, and gently knocked on the doorframe.

“Geto?”

He didn’t turn right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the view outside, but there was a slight shift in his shoulders that told you he’d heard you.

“…You’re up early,” he finally said, his voice soft, almost quieter than usual.

“I could say the same for you,” you replied, your words light but carrying a weight of concern.

He let out a slow breath, but still, he didn’t turn to face you. His gaze remained focused on the outside world.

You walked into the room, closing the door behind you gently, your bare feet making soft taps on the wooden floor as you moved to sit beside him. There was an unspoken quiet between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The room felt calm, almost sacred in the stillness of the morning.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the quiet sounds of the world outside and the soft rhythm of your breaths as you sat next to him, a companion in the silence. You wanted to ask what was on his mind, but you knew better than to push. Sometimes, silence was the only answer that made sense between you two.

Your gaze shifted to his hair, messy from sleep and the weight of his thoughts. It wasn’t the first time you’d noticed the strands falling in a way that looked far too tangled for someone who always had their life so meticulously in order. Without thinking, your fingers reached up, brushing a few strands away from his face. His hair was softer than you remembered, even with the small tangles, and it felt calming to be this close to him.

You didn’t speak just continued brushing through his hair, your fingers moving delicately through the strands. You didn’t need to say anything; the act itself was enough. You could feel the tension in his body start to loosen under your touch, the sharp edges of whatever burden he’d been carrying softening with each stroke.

After a while, Geto finally let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. He didn’t turn toward you, but you could feel his presence shift, becoming more grounded, more at peace. His fingers twitched slightly, but they stayed resting on his lap, not yet reaching for yours, but you felt the quiet acknowledgment between you.

“You don’t have to do that,” Geto said, his voice still soft, though it wasn’t as distant as before. “You could just ask me what’s wrong.”

You paused for a moment, letting your hand hover for a second before continuing to brush through his hair, the light click of your fingers in his strands the only sound in the room.

“I don’t need to ask,” you murmured. “I can tell. You’re always so quiet when something’s bothering you.”

Geto chuckled, a soft sound, and finally, his gaze shifted. He looked at you, his eyes soft and almost tired, but there was something there something vulnerable. “You know me too well,” he said with a slight smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You smiled back at him, your fingers still combing through his hair. “I don’t need to know everything to see when you’re carrying something heavy.”

There was another long silence. The kind that wasn’t awkward but felt like the two of you had somehow always understood each other without needing to say it out loud. The quiet hum of the outside world filtered into the room, the chirping of birds, the faint rustle of the morning breeze. It was the kind of peace that felt infinite, as if the world outside was perfectly content to wait for you two to find your calm before it continued on.

You continued to brush through his hair, and Geto’s breath evened out. There was no need for words only the comfort of this small, private moment between the two of you. You didn’t need to ask him what was on his mind, and he didn’t need to tell you. Not right now, anyway.

For a brief moment, Geto closed his eyes, his head tipping slightly toward you as he let himself be present in the peace you’d created. Your touch was grounding, like a steady rhythm that pulled him back from whatever distant thoughts had been pulling at him.

Geto rn after this chapter:

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