No Hate To Yall But Someone Give A Fun Teasing, Sweet And Lighthearted Astarion Fic. I Don’t Want Smut,

You and Hawks are both pro heroes and you approach him like:

You: “Did you hear that people have been shipping us?”

Hawks: “Really? That’s so weird.”

Hawks a week earlier, posting on a fake account: “HAS ANYONE EVER CONSIDERED HAWKS X Y/N?!”

Sometimes I get Insecure but then remember I’m hot and in my mind i’m married to anime characters

YAYAYAYYA

anyways follow my insta if you perpetually think of hawks @sirxaibs

THIS IS SO REAL OMG 😱

Hizashi Yamada X Reader

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Fighting the Pro 𓇢𓆸☾☼

This one is very angsty. SLIGHT DEBRIEF. The reader is a bit of an ass. Not for having unwarranted emotions but taking it out on him is very unwarranted. Being a pro at such a young age willllllll have an effect on you. It’s always when you’re young you feel like you’re running out of time.

masterlist

SYNOPSIS: You both are very grotesquely in love. Though early relationship there was definitely over compensation. A desperate cling for any type of normalcy. Though when you’re a pro in the top 10 and it becomes too much?

The room was filled with the heat of your bodies moving against each other, the air still thick with the remnants of heavy breathing and whispered praises. Hizashi lay sprawled beneath you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, golden locks fanned out over the pillow in a complete mess. His clothes had been discarded somewhere on the floor, long forgotten in the heat of the moment, and right now you’re watching the reveal to the fresh, angry red marks you had left on his skin.

His fingers lazily traced over your hip, drawing mindless patterns as he hummed in satisfaction. “Damn, babe,” he murmured, voice rough and pleased. “You make me want to do so many things to you.”

You smirked, stretching like a cat leaning closer to his face “You’re still talking, aren’t you? start doing”

He let out a breathy laugh before rolling over to press a lingering kiss against your jaw. “Okay, okay, you ask and shall receive.”

In a moment youre grinding down onto him. Feeling him beneath you so hard and ready for you. A low groan left his mouth as he pulls you close and kisses you roughly. The two of you wrapped into each other, Who knows how many rounds this has been? neither of you in any hurry to move. You want each other and need each other. But then, just as you were gripping your fingers through his hair, Hizashi stiffened.

“Oh, shit.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He shot up so fast he nearly rolled off the bed. “I was supposed to meet Shouta and Nemuri like” He grabbed his phone, eyes widening. “Twenty minutes ago! Oh my God.”

You snorted as he picked you off of him and scrambled to find his clothes, nearly face planting in the process. “zashi, be careful ”

“Babe,” he groaned, tugging on his pants with the coordination of a newborn deer, “you were literally sucking my soul out of my body of course I forgot!”

You only grinned. “I dont know if this is my fault, I had no idea you were seeing them today”

Hizashi groaned dramatically. “You’re unreal.”

But despite his rush, he still took a second to lean down and kiss you, lingering just long enough to make it clear he was reluctant to go. Then, shaking off the daze you had put him in, he throws you down to lay and puts a blanket over you. he threw on his jacket, grabbed his sunglasses, and bolted for the door. only to stop midway and run a hand through his already wrecked hair.

“Shit. I dont look too messy?”

You gave him a once over, eyes trailing over the mess of his clothes, his still kissed bruised lips, and the unmistakable marks you’d left on his neck. His golden hair was an absolute mess, his signature sunglasses were askew, and the high collar of his jacket barely concealed the array of fresh, bright, unapologetically placed hickeys decorating his neck like a victory banner. He moved in slow, stumbling motions, haphazardly fastening his belt with shaky fingers while still catching his breath. The man looked absolutely wrecked in the most smugly satisfied way possible.

You, on the other hand, lounged on the bed, completely unbothered, watching him trip over his own boots in a daze.

“Zashi, you’re late,” you reminded lazily, watching his half panicked, half pussy drunken movements as he tried to sober himself up.

“I knowwww holy shit I can still feel you on my everywhere” he groaned, shuddering dramatically as he ran a hand through his already ruined hair. “Babe, you don’t understand I think you rewired my brain with how much you were moaning. Like, I straight up can’t function.”

“You functioned just fine earlier,” you teased.

Hizashi let out a choked laugh, looking absolutely done as he threw on his sunglasses and stumbled out the door.

He groaned. “I love you really but my gooooood”

And with that, he stumbled out the door, muttering curses under his breath as he rushed to meet his very unimpressed friends.

Hizashi Yamada was struggling.

𓇢𓆸☾☼

By the time he arrived at the bar, he was quiet, an absolute rarity. He just slid into the booth across from Aizawa, shoulders slumped, nursing his drink like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

Aizawa squinted at him, immediately clocking the very obvious “I got busy before coming here or I was coming before coming here” energy radiating off of him. “The hell is wrong with you?”

Hizashi blinked at him slowly before bringing a hand up to rub his ear.

“Sorry, what?”

Aizawa’s eye twitched. “I said—”

“Yeah, yeah, no, no, can you say it again? Sorry, I can’t hear properly right now” Hizashi paused for dramatic effect, tilting his head and flashing a smug, self satisfied grin, “cause my baby kept moaning in my ear.”

Aizawa looked like he was actively regretting his life choices. Yamada had never been quiet a day in his life, and now he shows up to their long awaited catch up night looking like he’d been personally delivered into the hands of God??

“Don’t bring that nasty shit here,” Aizawa muttered, immediately reaching for his drink as if he could drown out the mental image.

Across the table, Midnight snorted into her glass while Mic just sighed, swirling his drink, utterly unbothered.

“Hey, man,” he added, smirking, “I’m just sayin’ if I ask you to repeat stuff tonight, it’s ’cause of that.” He pointed vaguely to his ear. “Just wrecked. Completely shattered. I got, like, post orgasmic tinnitus.”

Aizawa gagged.

“Leave,” he deadpanned.

“I’m already sitting, dude, what do you—”

“Leave.”

The three of them had been doing this for years this easy back and forth, this relentless teasing, this balance between Midnight’s playful mischief, Mic’s boundless energy, and Aizawa’s gruff exhaustion. It was the kind of friendship that had been built in the trenches of late night patrols, shared exhaustion, and an unshakable loyalty that had long since turned into family.

They were opposites in so many ways. Hizashi was loud, vibrant, the type to light up a room just by existing. Kayama was playful, charming, always knowing exactly how to push buttons and make people flustered just for fun. And Aizawa? Aizawa was the anchor whether he realized it or not, the long suffering soul who sighed, groaned, and rolled his eyes through every ridiculous conversation but never actually left because at the end of the day, these were his people.

And right now? His people were absolutely insufferable.

“Shouta,” Midnight gasped between giggles, still reeling over the absolute state of Mic’s neck. “Look at him again. Just one more time. I promise it’s worth it.”

Hizashi just smirked, unfazed, sipping his drink. The smugness radiating off of him was so dense it could be measured in metric tons.

Aizawa, meanwhile, looked like he was one more ridiculous comment away from throwing his entire drink in Mic’s face and walking out. “I’m this close to never seeing you again,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. Though everyone ag that table knew he’d kneel over and die first before abandoning his friends.

Across the table, Midnight was watching.

And grinning.

“Y’know,” she mused, swirling her glass, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people this in love before and it not be for show.”

Mic perked up immediately, cocking his head like a golden retriever that had just been called a good boy. “Aww, Kayamaaa,” he drawled, resting his chin in his palm with the dopiest lovestruck grin. “That’s so sweet”

“Yeah they’ve been obsessed with each other since she interned at the school” Aizawa cut in dryly.

“No, no, let her cook!” Mic shot back, waving him off before turning back to Midnight with stars in his eyes. “Go on, tell me how in love I am!”

Midnight snorted, glancing at Aizawa, who looked like he was contemplating his life choices. “I’m serious, though,” she continued. “Most couples? You can tell when it’s for show, or when it’s a phase, or when it’s gonna burn out in a year. But you?” She pointed at Hizashi with the utmost conviction, looking a little proud.

“You act like a damn lovesick idiot all the time. It’s gross but in, like, a good way.”

Mic beamed, looking stupidly proud. “I am a lovesick idiot! And it’s so good!”

Aizawa groaned, rubbing his temples harder, already regretting showing up. “have you guys always been this way?.”

“No, no, shou, listen,” Hizashi said, grabbing his arm. “She’s spittin’ facts! Spittin’! Like, I am so in love, man. So incredibly”

“Drink your damn whiskey and shut up,” Aizawa interrupted, yanking his arm away.

Hizashi chuckled, leaning back in his seat, his expression still drunkenly soft despite the teasing.

“Can’t help it,” he said, grinning like an idiot. “When you’re this happy, it kinda just… leaks out.”

Midnight just smirked, taking another sip of her drink. “Though How did you get to this point? Lord knows momma cant keep a relationship”

Hizashi paused, his goofy grin faltering for just a second. He took a deep swig of his drink, letting the sharp burn settle in his throat before speaking.

“It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows at first,” he admitted, leaning back with a sigh. His gaze softened, a rare, unguarded vulnerability creeping into his eyes as he stared at the table in front of him. “We were kinda, uh… figuring things out for a while. You know how I am. Always too loud, too impulsive, a little… well, a lot chaotic.” He shot a pointed look at Aizawa, who grunted in response, clearly trying to keep a neutral face.

“And she’s… different,” Hizashi continued, his voice lowering to something more serious. “She’s got this calm, steady presence about her. Makes me want to be better, do better, you know?”

Midnight raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but not surprised. “You two are opposites, huh?”

Hizashi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. It took us some time to get there, but eventually, we realized that maybe we did have something. Not just some casual fling or whatever, but… real feelings, y’know? And I was scared at first scared I was gonna mess it up, scared it wouldn’t be enough for her, that I’d let her down. But the moment I made that decision when I finally decided to stop running and put in the work? I could feel it click. Everything just made sense.”

Aizawa, who had been nursing his drink quietly, looked over at him with a narrowed gaze. “So you put in the effort? Actually put in the effort?”

Hizashi’s face softened even more as he nodded, eyes glimmering with sincerity. “Yeah. I did. We both did. And I think… that’s what it’s all about, right? Real love isn’t just the butterflies and passion. It’s the messy stuff, the growth, the parts where you have to put in effort, even when you’re exhausted or scared.”

𓇢𓆸☾☼

The apartment smelled like vanilla candles and takeout.

You barely had time to drop your bag before you saw it the table set, dimmed lights, another date night waiting for you. Like you hadn’t just gotten back from another mission, exhausted, bruised, and barely able to think straight. Like you weren’t still standing in the doorway, wearing the same uniform you’d been in for the last 48 hours, while Hizashi stood in the kitchen, grinning, oblivious to the storm building behind your eyes.

“Welcome home, babe!” His voice was bright, too bright, like he hadn’t noticed the tension in your shoulders, the exhaustion dragging you down like lead weights. And then he walked over, brushing a kiss to your temple before leading you further inside. “I got us reservations at that new place downtown! Figured we could get dressed up, have a nice night”

Something inside you snapped. It wasn’t just tonight. It wasn’t just this date. It was all of it. Every carefully planned dinner. Every perfect night out. Every photo ready, scripted moment that felt less like your life and more like some magazine romance article.

Every time you came home, and instead of letting you breathe, he tried to fill the space, like he was terrified of what would happen if he didn’t. And suddenly, you hated it. Hated all of it.

“Hizashi, stop.”

The words came out sharp, harsher than you meant. But you meant them.

Hizashi froze, blinking. “What?”

You exhaled hard, shaking your head, dropping your bag onto the floor with a thud. “This. The dates. The perfect little nights out every time I come back.”

You finally turned to him, voice sharp, cutting. “Can you just stop acting like we have to make up for lost time?”

His expression faltered. Just a flicker. But you saw it.

“…Babe, I just”

“You just what?” you snapped. “Try to force us into some picture perfect couple routine every time I walk through the door? Like it’s some checklist you have to complete?”

His brow furrowed, mouth pressing into a thin line. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what the hell are you doing?”

He let out a breath, stepping closer, but you stepped back, and that that’s when his face changed. That’s when his expression shuttered, something wounded flashing in his golden eyes.

“I’m trying,” he said, voice lower now. Softer. “I’m trying to make this work.” that that only made the anger burn hotter.

“By doing things that don’t even feel like us?” You gestured around, at the perfectly set table, at the candlelight, at the expectation hanging in the air. “Hizashi, when did we ever need to be like this?”

He flinched, just slightly. “I just thought—”

“You thought you had to prove something ,” you cut in, voice biting. “You thought we had to act like some stupid, perfect couple every time I came home so it felt like things were normal.”

“Because things aren’t normal!” His voice spiked, frustration cracking through now. “Because I never know when you’re coming back! I never know when it’s the last time I’m gonna see you when it’s the last time we get to do this!” His chest rose and fell, breath unsteady, fingers twitching at his sides.

It felt like the walls were closing in, trapping the anger between them, thick and suffocating. The air was hot, heavy with the weight of words that had been building for too long, now finally crashing down all at once.

Hizashi stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard, hands curled into fists like he was holding himself together. His sunglasses were gone, thrown onto the coffee table in the heat of the argument, leaving his golden eyes bare, raw with frustration, with something wounded underneath.

“You don’t even try to make time for us!” he had yelled first, voice too loud, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Do you even care anymore, or are we just gonna keep treating this like some long distance fling?”

The accusation hit hard, knocking the air from your lungs. Because it wasn’t true. yet the way he said it like he truly, honestly believed it made something in you snap.

“Don’t put this all on me, Mic!” you shot back, stepping forward, voice sharp, biting. “I’m doing everything I can! You think I like being away all the time? You think I like coming back just to feel like a stranger in my own relationship?”

His face darkened, jaw clenching. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“It sure as hell feels like it!”

That stopped him.Hizashi had been trying too hard to make up for lost time. Too many perfect dates, too many candlelit dinners, too many picture-perfect moments that felt scripted, forced.

None of it felt real.

Not because you didn’t love him. But because it made you feel like he was holding onto an idea of you, rather than the person you actually were.

So you finally said it.

“These idealistic Pinterest romance novel date? Its fake. What happened to us doing stuff we’re passionate about? What happened to real life things. It feels like you don’t love me, Hizashi. You love the idea of me.”

The second the words left your mouth, you saw the exact moment they landed saw the way his breath caught, saw the flicker of real, genuine hurt cross his face. Then, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head, his voice lower now, strained.

“…That’s not fair.”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry. It was broken. And that was worse.

“You think I don’t love you?” he muttered, running a hand over his face, his voice shaking. “You think I’m just… what? Holding onto some fantasy version of you? That all of this doesn’t mean anything to me?”

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t know how.

Because you didn’t know if you were wrong.

Hizashi let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it. Just something exhausted, something tired of fighting for you to see him.

“Yeah, maybe I’ve been trying too hard,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping. “Maybe I don’t know how to make this work. But do you know what it feels like to wait for you? To go to bed every night not knowing? To feel like I have to fight just to get a piece of you before you’re gone again?”

His voice cracked on the last word.

And suddenly, you saw it. The fear. Not just frustration. Not just exhaustion. He was afraid. Afraid that one day, you wouldn’t come back. That one day, there wouldn’t be anything left to come back to.

And that realization hit you harder than anything else.

“Don’t you dare act like you don’t understand where I’m coming from,” you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “You’ve been a pro hero much longer than I have. You were just like this when you were my age.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Hizashi!” The words came out sharp, louder than you intended. “You did the exact same thing when you were first starting out.”

Hizashi flinched, his mouth opening like he was about to argue, but you weren’t done.

“I care about you so much,” you said, your voice quiet now, more vulnerable than you wanted it to sound. “But right now? I can’t. I can’t pretend like everything’s fine when I’m always on the go, running from one mission to the next. I don’t have the luxury of playing house or acting like I’m some domestic goddess. I’m just trying to stay alive out there.”

His expression softened for a brief moment, but you could feel the distance growing between you. The things you were saying weren’t just about him anymore they were about you. And the pain in your chest deepened as you spoke the next words.

“I’m not like you, Hizashi. I don’t have time to pretend like everything’s okay, because out there, it’s not. I need to focus. I need to figure out how to be the best damn hero I can be. And when I come back, I don’t want to be distracted by a fake reality. I just want to see you .”

Hizashi stood silent, his hands hanging by his sides. You could feel him pulling away not physically, but in his heart, somewhere deep down.

“Do you understand?” you asked softly, though your words came out barely a whisper. “I need you to understand. I don’t want to lose you, but I have to be who I am. I need to help people. But i need you”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence between you both. Then, finally, he took a step back, rubbing his face, and the hurt on his face was so palpable it made your chest ache.

“You used to be this guy,” you said, stepping closer, your voice softer now but still intense. “The guy I fell in love with the weird guy, the one who spoke before he thought, who couldn’t hold back his excitement for the smallest things. The guy who dragged me to concerts, the one who’d make me laugh until my stomach hurt, and we didn’t care what anyone thought. We didn’t need all this,” you gestured to the dinner table, the candles, the perfect setup. “We didn’t need these fake, picture perfect nights. Why can’t it just be like it used to be? Why can’t it be the concerts and the lighthearted silliness? The way we used to be?”

His eyes softened, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze frustration, and it broke you.

“You don’t want me anymore?” he asked, his voice cracking with the words.

“No!” You shook your head, feeling the anger slip away, only to be replaced by something much more painful. “I don’t want the version of you that’s trying so hard to be something you’re not. I don’t want this perfect idea of us, this… this facade.” You took a step closer, now within arm’s reach, and your voice softened. “I want the guy I fell in love with, the one who didn’t care what anyone thought, the one who made everything fun, even when things weren’t perfect. I want that guy, Hizashi.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze never leaving you, as if he was trying to piece together everything you’d said.

“But I’m trying,” he murmured finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m trying to give us the life we never had, a chance to be normal, to have what other people have. You deserve that.”

The pain in his voice was almost enough to make your heart shatter.

“I don’t want what other people have,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper now, full of raw honesty. “I just want us. The way we used to be. No facades. No pretending. I just want to come home to you, Hizashi. The real you.”

He didn’t speak for a while, but the silence wasn’t cold anymore. It was heavy, fragile, like the two of you were standing on the edge of something, waiting for it to break.

Finally, he took a step closer, his hand reaching out slowly, unsure. When his fingers brushed yours, there was an undeniable connection a silent understanding that wasn’t about perfection, but about the truth.

The silence between you and Hizashi was heavy, thick with emotions that neither of you knew how to untangle. The space between you felt like it was closing in, suffocating and full of unspoken words. You both stood there, neither moving, just staring at each other, a tension building that you couldn’t shake.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, each beat a reminder of everything you were trying to say but couldn’t. You wanted to scream, to demand understanding, but it was like you were trapped in your own mind. Hizashi stood there, his golden eyes not leaving yours, his face tense, unsure of what to do next. He looked at you for a long moment, his breath shaky, but he didn’t say anything, just continued to watch you, his chest rising and falling. You could feel the pain in the air between you, and it made your throat tighten. He swallowed, his eyes darkened with some emotion you couldn’t read, but you could feel the intensity of it. Then, slowly, almost like he was unsure if you’d let him, he stepped forward.

“Can I” he started, his voice raw.

You couldn’t answer, your chest tightening with the emotions you’d been holding in, and before you knew it, he was close, pulling you into his arms. You didn’t resist, not even a little. You melted into him, your body shaking slightly with the rawness of the moment. He held you tight, his arms wrapped around you, the warmth of him filling you up.

And that’s when it hit.

The dam inside you broke. The tears came suddenly, hot and fast, as if your body had been holding them back for so long, and now it couldn’t stop. You didn’t even try to control it, didn’t even care if he saw the hurt on your face. It was all coming out, everything you had buried for so long, all the pain and frustration, the weight of your choices, your fear of losing him.

You sobbed against his chest, the sound raw and jagged, as if the very act of crying was too much, too overwhelming. Hizashi’s grip tightened around you, his hand smoothing over your back in soft, reassuring strokes. You could feel his breath on your skin, his heart beating in time with yours.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he just held you tighter, as if he was anchoring you to him, keeping you grounded in that moment, in the safety of his arms. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice low and full of gentle emotion.

“All I’ve ever wanted,” he said softly, his voice cracking just a little, “was to love you.”

The words hit you like a wave, crashing into the storm of emotions inside you, and you cried harder, the weight of them finally sinking in. You pulled him closer, your hands gripping his shirt, as if you were afraid he might slip away, like you were losing everything.

“I want to be the one who’s there for you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice trembling slightly. “I know this was probably too much it felt weird even for me, but all I’ve ever wanted is to love you. To be the guy who’s here for you, even when things are tough. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your face streaked with tears, your eyes red. But you saw it then the tenderness in his gaze, the raw sincerity in his expression. It was like he was showing you a side of himself that he’d been hiding, afraid you wouldn’t accept.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, the words coming from deep inside. “I just… I just don’t know how to make it all work. Everything is so hard and I ruined the best thing I had”

Hizashi wiped away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his touch gentle, almost reverent. “We don’t have to have it all figured out. We just need to be real with each other. Unconditionally.”

You nodded, your chest still tight with emotion, but the tears had slowed, the weight in your heart lightened just a little by the sincerity in his words.

“I just love you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, but steady. “Even when I don’t know what I’m doing. Even when it gets messy.”

He smiled, the smile that always made you feel like you were home. “Always,” he whispered. “I will always love you.”

𓇢𓆸☾☼

“Damn,” Midnight hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward. “That’s some real shit, Mic. But I get it. You two are a damn team.”

Hizashi looked back up at her, a genuine smile stretching across his face as he thought about you. “Exactly. It’s not just about the good times, yeah, it’s a little messy, but that’s what makes it worth it.”

Aizawa snorted, shaking his head but still smirking. “I’ll believe it when I see it last. You’re not exactly known for your ‘long term commitment’ skills.”

“Well, you’ll be seeing it, Shou,” Hizashi grinned, crossing his arms. “I’m gonna make sure of it.” He took another sip of his drink, his usual energetic self returning, albeit with a soft, fond gleam in his eyes. “I guess the real lesson here is that when you find someone worth it, you fight for it. You don’t just let it slip away because it’s hard. And hell, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Midnight leaned back, tapping her glass thoughtfully. “You really do love her, Mic. Who knew you had it in you?”

He smirked, now more like his usual self. “I’ve always had it in me. Just needed the right person to bring it out.”

Aizawa just sighed again, rubbing his eyes, but there was a slight, almost imperceptible hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m still not hearing about this again, right?”

“Of course not,” Hizashi teased, raising his glass with a wink. “But maybe next time, I’ll bring her along so you can see what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, right,” Aizawa muttered, reaching for his drink. “Just don’t bring any more of those details with you.”

Hizashi winked again, fully aware of the teasing but secretly grateful for his friends’ support, in their own way. He wasn’t just in love he was building something that mattered. And that meant everything.

Mic turned to him, utterly radiating joy. “Oh, babe, c’mon, don’t be jealous.”

Aizawa turned slowly, his exhausted, soul deep stare locking onto Mic like a curse.

“…What?”

Mic just smirked. “If you want me to kiss you on the ear too, all you gotta do is ask, babe.”

Aizawa physically recoiled, looking betrayed, while Midnight shrieked with laughter, grabbing Aizawa’s sleeve like she needed him for support.

“This is the worst night of my life,” Aizawa muttered.

“You say that every time we go out,” Midnight teased.

“Because it’s true every time.”

And yet he was still here. Because as much as he liked to complain, as much as they actively tested his patience, these were the people he’d risked his life beside. The people who knew him too well, who had been there through every high and low, and who, despite their insufferable antics, would have his back without question.

Even if they were giggling like teenagers at Mic’s hickey covered neck.

Yuta Okkotsu X Reader [mild crack edition]

Hey guys do you want to see a silly thought that came to mind when I myself am dramatically in love with this character.

Synopsis: Oh my god, Geto just beat you to a pulp! Will you focus on not dying like a normal person, or will you be lame and pathetic and stare at Yuta like he’s the love of your life? (Spoiler: It’s the second one.)

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ The battlefield is in ruins. smoke and dust filling the air, debris scattered across the temple grounds. The echoes of battle still ring in your ears, but your body is too weak to move. You, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki are barely conscious, slumped against the shattered ground, too injured to do anything but watch as Yuta stands alone against Geto.

Your vision blurs from exhaustion, but you can see him, Yuta, battered and bloodied, standing firm with his sword drawn, Rika’s monstrous form looming behind him. He looks nothing like the nervous, flustered boy you once teased during training.

This Yuta is strong. Determined.

“I didn’t realize you were such a womanizer.”

Geto’s mocking tone cuts through the chaos like a blade. Even in your dazed state, you pick up on it.

You blink slowly, trying to focus. What…?

Yuta doesn’t hesitate.

“Don’t be rude,” he says firmly, his voice steady. “This is pure love.”

Your heart stops.

Then it shatters into a million pieces.

Your lip wobbles. Your breath hitches. Tears well up in your eyes faster than you can control.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, voice trembling. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

Maki, who is barely holding onto consciousness, cracks open an eye to stare at you. “Are… are you crying right now?”

You are. Fat tears stream down your battered face as you clutch your chest, completely overwhelmed.

“H-He loves her so much,” you hiccup, your body too weak to do anything but sob in place. “I c-can’t— It’s so romantic!”

Panda, equally injured, groans. “Oh no. They’re simping while dying.”

Inumaki, barely breathing, wheezes, “Salmon…”

You ignore them, still crying. “Do you hear the way he said it?! The passion! The devotion! The way he’s fighting for the one he loves!” You sniffle loudly. “I-I think I’m gonna pass out from how beautiful this is.”

Maki lets out a ragged sigh. “You’re already half-dead. Focus.”

But you can’t focus. Not when Yuta is standing there, declaring his love in the middle of battle like the protagonist of the most heart wrenching romance novel you’ve ever read.

You clutch Maki’s sleeve weakly. “I-I know I should be focusing on not dying, but—” Another dramatic sniff. “He’s just so perfect.”

Maki shoves your hand off. “I swear, if you use the last of your energy to think about—”

“It’s too late,” Panda mutters. “They’re already gone.”

You nod, eyes still sparkling with tears. “G-Gone for Yuta Okkotsu.”

Meanwhile, Yuta and Geto are still fighting for their lives. Yuta has no idea you’re in the background, weakly crying over how much you love his love.

Gojo, who has just arrived and is surveying the battlefield, pauses when he hears your quiet sobbing. He turns, looking down at you with mild amusement. “Ah,” he hums, crouching beside your beaten form. “So you’re the dramatic one as always.”

You sniffle again. “Gojo-sensei,” you whisper hoarsely, grabbing onto his sleeve like you’ve just seen heaven. “Have you ever seen love so pure?”

Gojo glances at Yuta, then back at you. His lips curl an amused smirk.

“…Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice softer than usual. “I think I have.”

alternate ending

Gojo glances at geto, then thinks to himself. His lips curl an amused smirk.

“…Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice softer than usual. “I think I have.”

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Let me be your wings

Keigo Takami X Reader

This is based on my isekai story, and since I’m having such a hard time writing the chapters (I didn’t plan…I just started writing), HAVE THIS FOR NOW! This might be used for the story later, but for now, it’s just to show how their dynamic will be.

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Hawks had been teasing you for years.

It wasn’t just the usual banter, oh no, he had perfected the art of getting under your skin in ways no one else could. The perfectly timed winks, the way he’d drawl out, “Aww, you miss me?” whenever you texted him for mission details, the relentless nicknames that ranged from “Featherweight” to “Speed Bump” (the latter because, as he put it, you were “always in his way but never slowing him down”). He lived for it.

The mission had been a success, but it left you winded. You stood on the rooftop of a high rise, still catching your breath, while Hawks looked as unbothered as ever, stretching his arms behind his head like he’d just woken up from a nap. His feathers rustled in the evening breeze, the city lights below casting an amber glow on his face.

“You good there, champ?” he asked, smirking as he tilted his head at you.

You shot him a glare, still breathing heavily. “I just ran five blocks at full speed chasing that guy while you took a scenic flight over the skyline.”

He grinned. “Perks of having wings. Maybe you should invest in a jetpack.”

“Maybe you should do more than just provide aerial commentary next time.”

“Ohhh, attitude. Someone’s feisty when they’re exhausted,” he teased. “Tell you what, I’ll carry you next time. if you ask nicely.”

You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. “If you ever carry me, I’m taking a pair of scissors to your wings.”

“Ouch. That’s attempted murder, y’know.”

Before you could fire back, you caught a flash of something in his hand too quick to react in time.

Your stomach dropped. “Hawks… did you just—”

Hawks flipped his phone around, displaying the screen for you to see. There it was a perfectly timed, completely unflattering shot of you mid wheeze, hair sticking to your forehead, looking like you’d just been through hell and back.

“Oh, I absolutely did,” he confirmed, his golden eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, for posterity. Gotta capture these special moments.”

Your jaw clenched. “Delete it.”

He locked his phone with a dramatic flick of his wrist and tucked it into his jacket. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it. Maybe I’ll use it as your contact photo.”

You took a threatening step forward, but he was already floating just out of reach, laughing.

“Keigo Takami, I swear—”

“Whoa, full name? I really hit a nerve, huh?” He shot you a wink before launching himself into the sky. “See you around, Speed Bump!”

You watched him disappear into the night, fists clenched. Of course working with him was always so fun but god does it make you want to scream. Hawks had just taken off, disappearing into the sky like the show off he was. You watched until he was just a dot in the distance, then sighed, shaking your head.

This whole thing was still weird. Being here, seeing all of them in real life talking, breathing, making stupid jokes at your expense. You had spent years watching them from the other side of a screen, and now you were smack in the middle of it. It was like stepping into a show you used to binge watch, except now the characters had opinions on your coffee order and occasionally stole your fries.

Your eyes drifted back to where Hawks had just been, and you huffed out a laugh. Keigo Takami. You still remembered the first time you saw him in the anime all smug grins, lazy charm, and way too cool for his own good. You also remembered groaning because, of course, he had to be attractive. And a blonde.

You sighed dramatically. “God, my type is so predictable.”

First, it had been fictional blondes. Now? Now it was very real, very smug blondes who took pictures of you at your worst and made everything look effortless. Some things never changed.

Shaking your head, you turned on your heel and headed toward the next rooftop. You had your own agency to get back to top ten heroes didn’t have time to stand around having existential crises about their anime crushes coming to life.

Still, as you leapt off the edge, you couldn’t help but mutter, “At least I have good taste.”

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The sun dipped below the Musutafu skyline, casting streaks of gold and crimson across the sky. The city hummed beneath you and Hawks, the distant sounds of traffic and chatter blending into the cool evening breeze. Perched on the edge of a rooftop, the two of you were supposed to be on patrol, but the quiet lull of the city made it feel more like an excuse to loiter.

Hawks stretched his arms behind his head, wings twitching slightly as he scanned the streets below. “Man, it’s almost too peaceful tonight. I was hoping for at least one car chase to spice things up.”

You smirked, leaning back on your elbows. “You say that now, but the second some villain starts monologuing, you’re gonna be complaining.”

“Pfft, that’s fair.” He shot you a sideways glance, amber eyes glinting with mischief. “Though, I gotta say, spending an evening with you is its own kind of excitement.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin. “Flattery won’t make me buy you dinner after this, bird boy.”

He gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “Getting chicken together would be such a good idea though, here I thought we had something special.”

“Oh, we do,” you said, pulling out your phone. “And I have just the thing to prove it.”

Without another word, you tapped the screen, and soft, whimsical music began to play. The opening notes of “Let Me Be Your Wings” from Thumbelina drifted into the air, delicate and romantic.

Hawks stiffened immediately.

His feathers ruffled as he slowly turned his head to you, an expression of pure, dawning horror washing over his face.

No. No way. He knew this song. Scratch that, he really knew this song.

It had been stuck in his head more times than he cared to admit. And, worse, he had definitely imagined you singing it to him at least once. Or twice. Maybe five times. But that was beside the point.

“Let me be your wings… let me be your only love~”

You grinned at him like the devil incarnate. “C’mon, Hawks. This is our song now.”

His eye twitched. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m deadly serious,” you said, placing a hand over your chest in mock sincerity. “It just fits you so perfectly. The majestic wings, the whole ‘sweeping people off their feet’ thing—”

“—I don’t sweep people off their feet—”

“—and of course, your deep, burning desire to be someone’s tiny fairy prince.”

Hawks groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You suck.”

“is this you asking?” you teased, raising the volume. “Let me take you far beyond the stars~”

His wings twitched violently. He was sweating. You can’t let them know you’ve actually thought about this, Keigo. Play it cool. Play it—

“I hate that I know every lyric to this song.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Your jaw dropped, eyes widening with glee. “Oh my god.”

“Forget I said that.”

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” You leaned in, voice full of mock realization. “You’ve imagined yourself singing this to someone.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You so have.”

“I haven’t.”

You gasped theatrically. “Wait… have you imagined someone specifically?”

Hawks shot up so fast he nearly lost his footing on the ledge. “ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH OUT OF YOU.”

Before you could react, he grabbed the back of your collar and launched into the sky.

“WAIT—WAIT, KEIGO, I DIDN’T MEAN LITERALLY—!”

“TOO LATE, YOU’RE GETTING THE FULL THUMBELINA EXPERIENCE.”

The city blurred beneath you as he ascended, the wind whipping past as he effortlessly carried you into the night. You kicked your legs in protest, but his grip was firm, his wings beating steadily as he soared higher.

Below, your phone now abandoned on the rooftop continued playing the song, the tiny speaker projecting “We’ll see the universe and dance on Saturn’s rings~”

A civilian walking down the street paused, glancing up as your distant scream echoed overhead

“KEIGOOOOOO, PUT ME DOWNNNN—!”

As Hawks soared higher, you flailed in his grasp, wind whipping past as the city blurred below. “I WAS JUST TEASING YOU” you shouted.

“Oh, but you started this,” Hawks shot back, smirking down at you. “C’mon, you started this! You played our new song, and now I’m just giving you the full fantasy.”

“The fantasy doesn’t include me plummeting to my death, KEIGO!”

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Plummeting? Please. You’re in the safest hands in Musutafu.” Then, without warning, he spun you midair.Your stomach flipped.

“KEIGO—!”

“Shhh, Thumbelina, just enjoy the moment,” he teased, effortlessly twirling you again like you weighed nothing. His golden eyes gleamed as he grinned. “Isn’t this romantic? The stars, the city lights, me your dashing, winged rescuer?”

“You’re so lucky I can’t hit you from this angle.”

Hawks only laughed, catching you with ease before adjusting his grip one arm under your legs, the other supporting your back.

“Oh wow, holding me like a bride?” you deadpanned. “Really committing to the bit, huh?”

He smirked, wings shifting as he hovered smoothly above the rooftops. “I’m just staying in character. Besides, Y/n or should I say Thumbelina, in this situation, it’s you. Small, feisty, getting swept off their feet by a very handsome flying man”

“I am not small—”

“—and tragically falling for his irresistible charm.”

You let out the longest, most exasperated sigh of your life. “I hate you.”

Hawks gasped. “You love me.”

Then he twirled you again, and this time, it was slow and dramatic, like he was dancing with you midair, like you really were some fairytale princess in his arms.

“I swear, Takami” you breathed out a little more gently.

“You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

You groaned. “I’m going to fight you when we land.”

“Aw, you wanna spend more time with me?” You smacked his shoulder, and he laughed, finally descending back toward the rooftop.

As soon as your feet hit the ground, you staggered, trying to shake off the dizziness. Hawks landed beside you, grinning like he hadn’t just been the most unbearable person alive.

“Whew, what a rush, huh?” He stretched, wings twitching. “I really think we captured the essence of the song.”

You glared. “You twirled me like a ballerina.”

“Yeah, well, you fit in my arms so nicely, what was I supposed to do?”

You inhaled sharply, pointing a warning finger at him. “If you don’t shut up, i’m telling your fans their favorite pro kidnaps people when he likes them”

Hawks gasped, “That’s so gross, you wouldn’t.”

You sighed dramatically, brushing the wind tangled hair out of your face. “Yeah, yeah. Now c’mon, bird boy, let’s get food before I report you for kidnapping.”

His feathers ruffled in amusement. “Dinner and a song?”

You side-eyed him as you picked up your phone. “Keep dreaming, fairy prince.”

“‘You know, you should make make ‘Let Me Be Your Wings’ your new ringtone for me.” he smiles from across you

You smirked. “I would.”

His eyes narrowed. “…Damn. That’s hot.”

You groaned and turned away. “I’m leaving.”

He fell into step beside you as you made your way back toward the edge of the building, still grinning like an idiot.

Blondes, man. They were gonna be the death of you.

~~~

I was writing while on vacation, and before I knew it, I had 30,000 words down. Then I thought, hmm, why not turn this into a little chapter book? It’ll make editing easier. So, I shall! It won’t be a proper series (unless there’s a demand, I suppose. 😼)

Here I am with a Jujutsu Kaisen fic that was originally meant to be a high school Gojo story. Then it turned into a relationship bet trope with Geto, and suddenly, Nanami showed up. Now, I’m dangerously close to turning this supposedly fluffy story into manga canon.

Anyway, I can’t win. Fuck the creative juices.

Sal Fisher X Reader

₊✩‧₊ Stupid Beautiful Boy ₊‧✩₊

Another little drabble to satiate joining this fandom too late (like 3 years ago)

Masterlist

SYNOPSIS: one particularly incriminating sleep talking confession, Sal finds himself facing a much bigger challenge than a mosh pit: figuring out whether his best friend has been driving him crazy in more ways than one.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Sal fumbles with his keys, trying to unlock the door while still buzzing from the concert. “I think I still have someone else’s sweat on me,” he mutters, his voice muffled behind his mask.

You groan, pulling your sticky shirt away from your skin. “Yeah, well, I think I got elbowed in the ribs at least twice, so we’re both suffering.”

The door finally swings open, and you both step inside his apartment, kicking off your shoes with exhausted sighs. The air conditioning is a blessed relief against your overheated skin, and you tilt your head back, basking in the coolness.

Sal drags a hand through his damp blue hair. “I’m calling dibs on the shower.”

“No way,” you protest immediately. “I suffered through that pit just as much as you did.”

He gives you a deadpan look. “You wanna flip a coin for it?”

You cross your arms. “Rock, paper, scissors.”

A tense moment passes as you both raise your fists, exhausted but committed.

“One, two, three”

You both throw rock.

A pause. Then again.

Scissors.

Again.

Paper.

Sal groans. “This is ridiculous.”

You grin. “C’mon, Sal. ill be quick”

He shakes his head with a small chuckle and sighs in defeat. “Fine. Go ahead, but don’t use all the hot water.”

You shoot him a victorious smile and grab some spare clothes from the bag you brought, making a beeline for the bathroom. As you shut the door behind you, you hear him flop onto the couch with a tired grunt.

The concert was amazing, but you both definitely underestimated how wrecked you’d be afterward.

Sal sinks further into the couch, exhaling a long, slow breath as the distant sound of running water fills the quiet apartment. His body still hums with the aftershocks of the concert his ears ringing faintly, muscles sore from jumping and shoving through the crowd. But he doesn’t mind. If anything, the exhaustion feels good, like proof of a night well spent.

He lifts a hand, staring at the faint smudges of marker and the slight bruising on his knuckles from who knows what. Probably from gripping the barricade too hard or shielding you when the crowd got too wild. His lips twitch slightly at the thought.

The whole night had been extreme in the best way screaming lyrics until his throat burned, shoving each other playfully when a favorite song came on, the way you grabbed his arm when the bass drop hit, eyes wide with exhilaration. He hadn’t let loose like that in a long time, but with you, it was easy. It always was.

His gaze drifts toward the bathroom door as a faint laugh escapes from inside, your voice muffled by the water. Probably replaying some dumb moment from the night. He finds himself smiling before he even realizes it.

You were his best friend. He knew that, but sometimes, like tonight, it hit him differently. In a way that made him stop and really appreciate it. How natural it was with you, how much fun you always managed to have together. Even when you were both dead on your feet, covered in sweat and bruises, you still managed to bicker over a shower like it was the most important thing in the world.

Sal shifts on the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. The exhaustion is settling in now, heavy but comfortable. The sound of the shower, the lingering echoes of the concert in his head, and the knowledge that, no matter how wrecked you both were, you’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Yeah. Tonight was a good night.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Sal lets out a deep sigh as he sinks onto his bed, the tension in his muscles easing now that he’s fresh out of the shower. The warmth lingers on his skin, his damp hair clinging slightly to his neck as he leans back against the pillows. The night’s events still swirl in his mind the music, the energy of the crowd, the way you had grabbed his hand in excitement when the band played your favorite song. He huffs a quiet chuckle at the thought, shaking his head.

He’s never been the loudest person, never the one to take up too much space in a room, but somehow, with you, Larry, Ash, and Todd, things changed. The sharp edges of his solitude softened over time, replaced with sarcastic quips, easy laughter, and a quiet warmth he hadn’t realized he was missing. With you especially, it was different. You challenged him, teased him, and made life more interesting in ways he hadn’t expected.

He’s still lost in thought when something heavy slams into him.

His breath leaves him in a choked sound, and suddenly, he’s flat on his back, hands instinctively flying to steady whatever or whoever just tackled him.

“Boo!”

Sal barely has time to process what’s happening before his eyes snap up to meet yours. His heart slams against his ribs, not just from the jump scare but from the realization that you’re on top of him.

Straddling him.

Your weight is pressing into his lap, hands planted on either side of his chest as you grin down at him, absolutely reveling in his reaction. His fingers twitch where they’ve landed on your waist, the warmth of your skin seeping through your clothes and straight into his bloodstream.

“What the” His voice is rough, laced with disbelief as his pulse thrums wildly beneath his skin. He doesn’t stumble over his words he’s too used to your antics for that but there’s a tightness in his throat, a warmth creeping up the back of his neck.

You cackle, shifting your weight slightly, and his fingers tighten just slightly before he stops himself. He wills himself to stay still, to not react, but it’s so damn hard when you’re sitting on him like this, looking down at him with that mischievous glint in your eyes.

“You should’ve seen your reaction!” you tease, eyes alight with amusement. “I swear, you levitated for a second.”

Sal exhales sharply through his nose, willing his heart rate to slow. He doesn’t have a mirror, but he knows his ears are red. His mask thankfully hides most of his expression, but his body is betraying him in ways he can’t quite control.

“Seriously?” he mutters, voice edged with dry exasperation. “where did you even go?”

You shrug, still grinning. “a magician will never reveal her secrets”

He scoffs but doesn’t push you off. His hands are still resting on your waist, unmoving, like he’s afraid that if he does anything more, you’ll notice notice the way his breath is just slightly uneven, the way his heart is hammering in his chest in a way that has nothing to do with being startled.

“What? You didn’t miss me?” you tease, tilting your head.

Sal’s breath hitches, but he recovers quickly, rolling his eyes. “I was wondering where you went,” he admits, voice still steady despite the warmth creeping up his neck. “Didn’t expect you to attack me, though.”

“You’re fine,” you say dismissively, shifting again, and fuck. He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to stay still, but he knows you have to feel the way his hands flex at your sides.

You smirk down at him. “You’re pretty comfy, y’know.”

Sal narrows his eyes, his grip finally tightening not rough, just enough to remind you who exactly you’re messing with. “(Y/N),” he warns, voice low.

You snicker but finally roll off of him, flopping onto the bed beside him. He exhales, rubbing a hand down his head, trying to will away the warmth that refuses to leave his skin.

“I swear, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters.

You nudge his shoulder, grinning. “Yeah, but you’d miss me if I wasn’t.”

Sal hesitates, staring at the ceiling for a moment. His chest feels tight in a way he can’t quite put into words.

“…Yeah,” he admits quietly. “I would.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as you lie next to Sal, the only sounds in the room being the distant hum of the apartment’s heating and the occasional rustle of the sheets as you shift to get comfortable. Sal is still staring at the ceiling, his fingers idly tapping against his stomach like he’s trying to ground himself after what just happened.

You smirk to yourself, still feeling victorious over your little sneak attack. He so wasn’t expecting that. But now that you’ve had your fun, exhaustion is creeping in, your body finally registering how wrecked you are from the concert.

Still, sleep doesn’t sound quite appealing yet.

You turn your head toward him, resting your cheek against his pillow. “Wanna put on some horror movies while we crash?”

Sal finally looks over at you, brow raising slightly. “Horror? Thought you’d be too tired to handle anything intense.”

You shrug. “I dunno, something about falling asleep to creepy background noise sounds nice.” You pause, then smirk. “Unless you’re scared.”

Sal scoffs, shaking his head. “You wish I was scared.” He shifts, reaching for the remote on his nightstand. “Fine, but if you pass out in the first twenty minutes, I’m making fun of you in the morning.”

“You act like that’s never happened before.”

He chuckles under his breath, scrolling through the streaming options before settling on something. The screen casts a dim glow across the room as the opening credits roll, shadows flickering across the walls. You settle deeper into the blankets, already feeling sleep tugging at you despite your earlier enthusiasm.

Sal glances over at you once more, taking in the way your eyes are half. lidded but still determined to stay awake. He shakes his head fondly before turning back to the screen.

Yeah, he’s not gonna admit it, but he kind of hopes you doze off first. It gives him an excuse to stay up just a little longer, just to make sure you’re comfortable.

The movie plays on, its eerie soundtrack weaving through the room like a distant hum. Sal can tell you’re barely holding on, your breathing slowing, body going lax against the mattress. He smirks slightly, shaking his head as he shifts to get more comfortable.

With a sigh, he reaches up and unhooks his prosthetic, placing it carefully on the nightstand. He always feels a little more exposed without it, even around you, despite the fact that you’ve seen his face before. He knows you don’t care hell, you’re probably one of the only people who never made him feel weird about it but still, old habits die hard.

He leans back, exhaling through his nose, but then he feels it your hand, soft and warm, ghosting over his cheek.

Sal stiffens slightly, his breath catching as your fingers trace the rough ridges of scar tissue, the parts of him he never liked showing. Your touch is slow, careful, almost reverent in your half asleep state. His pulse jumps, and he nearly pulls away out of instinct, but then.

“You’re my stupid, beautiful boy…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, thick with sleep, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone before your hand goes slack, slipping down as you fully drift off.

Sal just stares at you, frozen in place. His mind is blank, save for the echo of your words ringing in his ears. His heart is pounding now, hammering so hard he swears you’ll wake up and hear it.

You’re asleep. Completely gone. No teasing, no jokes just a sleepy, genuine thought slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

And it hits him harder than anything ever has.

Sal swallows thickly, blinking a few times before cautiously reaching up and gently moving your hand away from his face. Not because he wants to god, no but because if he lets you keep touching him like that, he might actually die from how much it’s messing with him.

He watches you for a moment, the way your breathing has evened out, your face relaxed in sleep. His chest feels tight, warm, conflicted. He doesn’t know what to do with what you just said, doesn’t know how to process it when he’s spent so long convincing himself that you…

He shakes his head to himself, exhaling as he settles back down. He’ll think about it later. Right now, you’re here, curled up beside him like you belong there, and that’s enough.

With one last glance at you, Sal closes his eyes, listening to the faint sounds of the movie and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Her stupid, beautiful boy.

Yeah.

He’s doomed.

As the movie plays on, its low hum fading into the background, Sal’s mind isn’t really on the plot anymore. His thoughts keep drifting back to what you whispered in your sleep“You’re my stupid, beautiful boy.”

You’ve never really talked about relationships not in any serious way. Sure, there had been the lighthearted teasing, the playful banter between the two of you, the way you’d poke fun at each other and keep things casual. But beneath all of that… the connection between you two had always been something more. Something unspoken but there, lingering beneath the surface like an uncharted tide.

In all the time you’d known each other, you’d never crossed that line, never even hinted at it. You were close hell, you were probably closer than most people would ever get, in a way that felt natural and effortless. But neither of you had ever really acknowledged this.

This growing sense of warmth that seemed to be building between you two.

You weren’t just his best friend anymore. No, it felt different now. It felt like it was shifting, like maybe you both were standing on the edge of something you hadn’t yet named. The way you’d touched his face, the way he couldn’t stop thinking about your words those things weren’t casual. And it wasn’t just tonight.

Every day you spent together, every moment of shared laughter and easy comfort, seemed to push you both closer to something real. Sal could feel it, too. The way his chest tightened when you smiled, the way his heart beat just a little faster when your hand brushed his. He had no words for it, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted them. Not yet. Not when things were so perfect this way, untouched by labels or expectations.

But with every passing day, it became harder to ignore. Harder to pretend that this whatever this was wasn’t becoming something more. Something that meant more.

His thoughts trail off again as he glances at you, your body still curled beside him, your breathing slow and steady. You’re so close, and yet… a thousand unspoken things hang in the air between you.

Sal doesn’t have answers. Hell, he’s not even sure what he wants right now. But it’s getting harder to push down that tiny, persistent thought, the one that wonders if this is really just friendship anymore.

And it’s getting harder to ignore the way he feels like it’s been real for a long time now, even if neither of you have said it out loud.

For the first time, Sal wonders if maybe just maybe he’s been in love with you all along.

But as the quiet stretches on and the movie finally fades to its credits, he closes his eyes and lets the feeling sit with him. There’s no rush. No need to make it anything more than what it is for now.

But damn, it’s getting harder to pretend it’s just friendship.

[After you tackle Sal onto the bed]

Sal: [deadpan] You do realize one day I’m just going to let you fall, right?

You: Pfft, no you won’t.

Sal: And what makes you so sure?

You: [grinning] Because I know that you are painfully in love with me and you thrive off of the weird tension that we have.

Sal: