The Rich Asshole . ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

my best friends reaction to finally listening to joost for the first time PLS

i genuinely think one of the things that contributed to the rise of anti-intellectualism is when leftists started conflating characters in a book being sexist, racist etc. with the book itself, or the author, being sexist or racist or possessing any other type of prejudice that they wrote into the book. and then one step further, accusing anyone who reads such a book of having those opinions as well lol. toddler-level media criticism

ok so this fic has inspired me to want to write delving into this dynamic 😼

'' DEPOLLUTE ME , GENTLE ANGEL ,,

|| pairings: hawks x reader / keigo takami x reader

|| warning: a little suggestive, but it stops, other than that its comfort <3 listen to the song "We'll Never Have Sex" and you'll understand. reverse comfort

|| word count: 0.8k

Hawks. Number two hero in all of Japan. Fastest hero in all the country, youngest too, only age 22 and he was number two. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, woman, man, anyone. It made sense, of course, he was attractive. He acted carefree, always with a boyish grin on his face and everything he did seemed so effortless. Perhaps that was apart of the problem.

No matter what he did, everyone made their assumptions. Made their ideas, believing him to be a playboy or some sex-driven man. He hated it. Keigo was told to just let it happen, it was good publicity. Especially with how much his fans ate it up, he complied. He let it happen.

That all changed when he met you. Who's hands were never quick, never yearning in a way to get his clothes off. Your hands were soft, gentle. Always caring, never forcing. Keigo didn't understand it, why weren't you trying anything? Why weren't you trying to make him apart of a fantasy?

Your soft lips against his as you sat in his laps, but it wasn't quick. Not 'hot and bothered' as some may speculate, no, it was slow and careful. His hands placed on the small of your back as the two of you kissed. It was a comfort, it was wonderful. Something Keigo always yearns after he finishes a hard day of a hero, to come home where you'd swing by. Watch a movie, make some food, just be together. Sweet kisses exchanged, tonight was no different. The only small change was that those small kisses turned to a small make-out.

You, who'd move your hands just a bit down, down Keigo's chest. He didn't want it to stop, but at the same time it felt like too much. Something he wasn't ready for, not yet at least. The vermillion feathers ruffled behind him as he forced himself to let this happen. You, on the other hand? You stopped and pulled away, cupping his face in your hands as you pressed a gentle kiss on Keigo's scarred cheek.

"Why'd you stop?" Your boyfriends question was barely above a whisper as he held you close. He didn't understand, was he not kissing you well enough? Not being good enough for you?

"Because you wanted to stop," You ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. One that's been kissed by the winds that he flew through during the day. Before he could try to fight back you continued. "I could tell your hesitation, love."

"Dove, we can keep going-"

"When you're ready."

Keigo stared at you with his golden eyes, staring up at you as you mindlessly brushed through his hair with your fingers. Untangling any mess that had happened from the day, taking out any small pieces of dirt or debris from the day. He didn't understand. No, he wasn't a virgin, why were you acting like he was? He held you tighter as he pushed his face into the plush of your neck.

Taking a deep inhale of your scent as he relaxed under your touch.

"Thank you."

You knew how the media treated him, as some sort of sex symbol. Always putting him on a pedestal as the number two hero, fastest hero in all of Japan. It killed you everytime you'd see an article of some made up scandal Keigo was supposedly apart of. You'd compare that article to your boyfriend. The man who'd come home, dragging his feet against the wooden floor. Eyebags under his eyes once he wiped the make up he used to conceal it. He was exhausted, overworked. Yet all the media saw was some one-dimensional man.

With a small hum, you shook your head and pushed a small kiss to your winged boyfriends forehead. Lingering there for a few moments before pulling away. A small smile on your face as you kept your gaze on him.

"You don't need to thank me, Keigs."

"But I should, you-"

You pushed your finger against his lips, a small smirk danced on your lips as you huffed.

"I don't wanna do anything you're not comfortable with. We don't have to do anything soon," With a small sigh, not of disappointment, you pressed your forehead against his. Fluttering your eyes closed as you kept speaking softly. "I kiss you just to kiss you, Keigo. If you don't wanna go too far, we don't have to. I'll be as patient as you need."

Your words hit a chord somewhere in Keigo. He always felt so pressured to do.. Well, anything. Hero work, the Commission, friends, enemies. He had so many things he had to do. But with you? He could go his pace for once. Not Hawks'. Not the man he presented to be, not the fastest hero in Japan. Just Keigo. He could go as slow as he needed, and you'd be there to support him.

"I love you," He whispered softly, his voice trembling just the smallest bit as he kept his emotions in check. Trying not to cry.

"I love you too, my darling."

"I love you," He repeated again. And again. And again. He kept whispering it as he kissed your neck softly, not a tease, not to lead up to something else. But because he could, because he wanted to.

"My gentle angel."

|| GUYS. GUYS. IM CHDBSIUBSIBVIDBLDVSAA i love keigo oml. i love how complex he is, he means sm to me OOOMMMLLLLLL :(( TO BE CLEAR!! im not anti-sex or smth, i js find it interesting to see the difference between hawks and keigo. i can make a whole essay on this

˚₊✩‧₊ Oh bet? ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Vinsmoke Sanji X Reader

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Synopsis: He flirts? you flirt? he falls in love first? you fall just as much

WARNING!- he a FREAK in a weird way not in my present mic way. But he’s still a gentleman ig

This is explicit content so viewer discretion is advised. It’s not my job to babysit. If you’re not comfortable or know you shouldn’t be reading adult content then think again before reading.

The Baratie was a strange place. A floating restaurant filled with rowdy sailors, the scent of sizzling meats and freshbaked bread hanging in the air. It wasn’t the worst place you’d been, but definitely not the fanciest either. Still, Luffy was practically vibrating in his seat, excited about the food, while Nami looked ready to knock him out if he tried to steal her drink again. Usopp was muttering about how a “great captain” should be treated to the finest dining experience, and Zoro? Zoro just looked half asleep, arms crossed over his chest.

Luffy, practically drooling already, clapped his hands together. “This place smells amazing! Let’s eat!”

“Try not to embarrass us,” Nami sighed, flicking him on the forehead.

Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “Tch. Fancy place for the middle of the ocean.

Usopp adjusted his goggles, scanning the crowd. “This place looks expensive… Maybe I should tell them I’m a world famous captain. Might get us a discount.”

You chuckled at their antics, but your attention was quickly drawn to the smooth figure gliding through the restaurant. A blonde waiter in a sharp black suit moved effortlessly between tables, a tray balanced perfectly in one hand as he set down a dish with practiced ease. He bowed slightly, his voice rich and honeyed.

“For you, madam, a meal as exquisite as yourself.”

The customer giggled, clearly smitten, but then his gaze lifted. And landed on you. For a moment, he just stared. Then, as if the world around him faded, the tray in his hand clattered to the floor, dishes shattering. The restaurant hushed. You blinked. He didn’t even react to the mess, his eyes locked onto you like he had just seen a goddess descend from the heavens.

“Oh. Mon dieu…” His voice was barely a whisper.

Luffy tilted his head. “Huh? What’s wrong with him?”

He came to an abrupt stop at your table, eyes widening just slightly before he swept into a dramatic bow. “Forgive me, mademoiselle, but I must ask,” He straightened, flashing a devastatingly smooth smile. “how is it that the sea has yet to claim a jewel as radiant as yourself?”

You blinked. Luffy, mid bite of stolen bread, tilted his head. “Huh?”

Nami sighed. “Oh great. One of these types.”

Sanji didn’t even acknowledge her. His focus was entirely on you, as if no one else at the table mattered. “Truly, it is an injustice that you have not been placed upon a throne where only the finest delicacies are brought to you.” He took your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a featherlight touch. “Allow me to be at your service, my dear.”

Usopp let out a low whistle from across the table. “Wow, I think that worked on me.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “I already hate him.”

You, on the other hand, smiled sweetly. “That’s quite the greeting for someone you just met.”

Sanji smirked, tilting his head slightly, fingers still holding yours. “I believe in making an unforgettable first impression.”

“Oh, I’d say you have.” You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a playful lilt. “I just didn’t realize they were hiring princes here.” It happened immediately. Sanji stiffened. His cigarette nearly fell from his lips. His eyes widened, mouth parting slightly like his brain had just shut off completely. For a split second, it was dead silent.

In a singular moment, His entire face went red, from the tips of his ears down to his collar. Luffy choked on his food. Usopp gawked. Zoro, for the first time since you sat down, looked genuinely shocked.

Sanji stumbled back half a step, hands twitching like he wasn’t sure where to put them. “AAh—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I— That’s— You—”

You rested your chin on your hand, watching him with barely concealed amusement. “Something wrong?”

Another malfunction. The pink deepened. He was visibly sweating. Luffy was absolutely losing it. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM? WHY’S HE ACTING LIKE THAT?”

“I—I am NOT—!” Sanji tried to straighten his tie, only to pull it completely loose. His usually cool and composed demeanor had completely crumbled, and he was spiraling. “I—I’ll get your food—YES—I need to—um—”

Quickly trying to gain composure again, turned his head to the side slightly. “Tell me, my love… Do you believe in love at first sight? Because I do now. No, no, I know it. I have spent my whole life searching for something, and today, I have found it in you.”

You smirked, deciding to play along. “Oh? And what exactly have you found?”

Sanji exhaled as if you had just spoken the most poetic words in existence. “The reason my heart beats.”

Zoro groaned louder. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Nami pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are we actually doing this?”

Luffy, still focused on one thing, poked Sanji’s head. “Hey. Can you make us food?”

Sanji finally, reluctantly released your hand, but not without one final lingering touch. Standing up, he smoothed his suit, regaining some composure. “Of course. Anything for you, my love.” Then, to the others, he added flatly, “And I suppose for your friends as well.”

He quickly took your orders, smiling each time giving you a glance and every time it was anyone else at the table who looked more than disinterested. As he sauntered toward the kitchen, he threw one last longing glance over his shoulder at you, pressing a hand to his heart.

“This will not be the last time we speak, my darling.”

You simply smiled, watching him go.

“Well,” you murmured, amused, “obviously it isn’t going to be the last time, he just took our order”

——

The minute sanji joined the crew, He never stopped going for your affection. It started as a casual breakfast on the Going Merry. Peaceful. Normal. Luffy stuffing his face, Zoro half asleep with his arms crossed, Nami sipping her tea, and Usopp telling an obviously exaggerated story. Then, you and Sanji happened. It started small.

“Would you like some more tea, my dear?” Sanji purred, refilling your cup before you could even reach for it. “I couldn’t possibly let someone as radiant as you lift a finger.”

You smiled sweetly. “Oh, Sanji, you’re too kind.” You leaned your chin on your hand. “If you keep treating me like this, I might just start thinking you really like me.”

Sanji smirked. “Like you? My dear, you are the sunrise to my every morning.”

“Oh? Am I?” You tilted your head. “Because you seem more like sunset to me charming, warm, and the kind of view that makes it hard to look away.”

Sanji’s mouth went so wide in shock. The crew immediately went on high alert. Nami sighed, lowering her cup. “Oh no. It’s happening again.”

Usopp side eyed the both of you. “How long do we think this round is gonna last?”

Zoro groaned, rubbing his temples. “If we’re lucky, one of us will pass out.”

Meanwhile, Sanji recovered, straightening his tie. “Ah, but my dear, you forget I exist to serve. If I am the sunset, then I shall make sure you end every day with a breathtaking view.” He took your hand, kissing your knuckles.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Sanji, you romantic,”

He grinned. “That’s the mission, sweetheart.”

You leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper. “But tell me, my prince, can you handle it if I fall for you?”

Sanji’s entire body tensed. His cigarette did fall this time. He gawked at you, struggling to form words, ears burning red.

Luffy blinked, mid chew. “Ooooooo sanji is gonna mess up again!”

Sanji snapped out of it. “HAH! No!!” He grabbed your hand again, desperate to reclaim control. “My darling, if you were to fall for me, I’d catch you faster than the wind itself.”

“Oh?” You smirked. “I guess I should be careful, then, since I do like a man who can sweep me off my feet.”

Sanji’s soul left his body.

Usopp threw his hands in the air. “How is he losing at his own game?!”

Zoro smirked. “Arguably has this ever been his game?”

Sanji stumbled back, gripping the table for balance, eyes darting everywhere except at you. “I—I—” He cleared his throat, straightened his tie again (for no reason), and exhaled sharply. “You’re a worthy opponent, I’ll give you that.”

You winked. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I wasn’t.”

The tension was palpable. Luffy just kept eating, completely unbothered, while Nami rubbed her temples like she had a migraine forming.

“This is gonna go on forever, isn’t it?” she muttered.

“Probably,” Zoro said, amused.

And so, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the Flirt War raged on.

——

The kitchen of the Going Merry smelled heavenly. The scent of garlic, sizzling butter, and fresh herbs filled the air as you stood beside Sanji, sleeves rolled up, a wooden spoon in your hand.

“This isn’t so hard,” you mused, stirring the sauce in the pan.

Sanji scoffed playfully, chopping vegetables with practiced ease. “Oh? Then why did you just almost burn the onions?”

You gasped, quickly turning down the heat. “That was one time!”

He smirked. “It’s been five minutes.”

You shot him a glare, but he just chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let you burn the ship down.”

You huffed, but the warmth of his presence next to you was… nice. Comfortable.

He reached over, gently guiding your hand as you sprinkled in some salt. “There. Just a little too much will ruin the balance.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “You know, for someone who might actually be the least serious person ever, you’re oddly serious about food.”

Sanji smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “Cooking isn’t just about food,” he said, voice quieter now. “It’s about taking care of people. Making sure they’re happy, safe, and full.” He glanced at you. “You can learn a lot about someone by what they cook for you and how.”

You tilted your head. “Oh? And what does this say about me?”

He pretended to think, tapping his chin with the knife. “That you’re… lawless, a little reckless, but trying really hard.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me?”

Sanji grinned. “And that you care more than you let on.”

That caught you off guard. Your fingers tightened around the spoon, a warmth creeping up your neck.

He turned away before you could respond, focused on plating the dish. “Alright, taste test.” He lifted a bite of food to your lips, holding the fork expectantly.

You hesitated only a second before leaning in and taking the bite. The flavors burst across your tongue rich, balanced, perfect.

Sanji watched you closely. “Well?”

You swallowed, licking your lips. “Not bad, chef.”

His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before he smirked. “Not bad? That’s all I get?”

You grinned. “Alright, alright. It’s really good.”

Sanji chuckled, stepping back with a satisfied look. “I’ll make a cook out of you yet.”

You bumped your shoulder against his. “As long as you don’t mind a little mess in your kitchen.”

His smirk softened. “For you? Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

——

It was supposed to be another harmless round. Another battle of wits. The little game between you and Sanji to see who could make the other fold first.

But somehow, it felt… different today.

The crew was gathered on the deck of the Going Merry, the afternoon sun warming the wood beneath you. Lunch had just ended, and everyone was lounging Luffy hanging off the mast, Usopp fiddling with his slingshot, Nami sketching a map, and Zoro napping against the railing.

And then Sanji had done the thing.

He’d casually brushed your hair back, fingers lingering just a second too long, his voice soft as he murmured, “Ah, mon amour, even the wind envies me for touching you.”

That should have been your cue to fire back. To make him stutter, to turn the tables. But for some reason, your breath caught.

Something in the way he said it something different made your heart do a weird little flip.

You recovered quickly, tilting your head with a smirk. “Careful, chef. If you keep that up, I might start believing you.”

Sanji grinned, but his usual arrogance wasn’t there. Instead, he just looked at youlike he was trying to memorize every detail.

The energy shifted. The crew definitely noticed.

Usopp, watching with narrowed eyes, whispered, “am I crazy or does this feel… tense”

Zoro cracked an eye open. “yes. you are crazy. but no you’re right.”

Nami sighed, setting down her pen. “Finally.”

But you and Sanji were locked in now.

Sanji exhaled, rolling his cigarette between his fingers. “Maybe,” he said, voice lower than usual, “maybe I want you to believe me.”

The teasing smile on your lips faltered just slightly.

Your fingers curled slightly against the railing. As god as your witness, since you first met him it’s been like a drug. But you weren’t about to let him win just yet.

“Is that so?” you murmured, stepping closer. “And what if I told you that I like the way you look at me?”

Sanji stilled, inhaling sharply.

For the first time, you saw him hesitate. Not in the usual, flustered way but in the way someone does when they realize they might be in over their head.

The silence stretched between you. The playfulness was still there, but beneath it was something deeper, something neither of you had expected.

Sanji swallowed, then let out a slow breath. “Then… I’d tell you I haven’t been able to stop looking since the moment I met you.”

You froze. This wasn’t a battle anymore. There were no winners. No losers. Just you and Sanji, standing too close, staring at each other like maybe just maybe this had been real all along.

Neither you nor Sanji moved for a long moment. Then, after a heartbeat, you smiled small, real, genuine.

“Guess we’re both in trouble, huh?” you murmured.

Sanji chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his face warmer than the afternoon sun.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think we are.”

——

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden shimmer across the waves as the crew bustled about, preparing to head into town. You leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching as Luffy practically vibrated with excitement.

“MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” he chanted, running in circles around Zoro, who looked one second away from knocking him out cold.

“You guys have fun,” you said, stretching your arms above your head with a content sigh. “I’m just gonna take it easy today. Relax, enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Usopp slung an arm around your shoulder, waggling his brows. “Taking it easy, huh? What, planning on sleeping the whole day away?”

“Something like that,” you replied smoothly, not giving anything away.

“I don’t blame you,” Nami said, adjusting her sunglasses as she stepped onto the dock. “This is the perfect time to get some real alone time without Luffy shouting every five seconds.”

“Oi!” Luffy pouted but was too distracted by the smell of food wafting from town to argue.

Sanji, carrying a basket of supplies over his shoulder, turned to you with a charming smile. “Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you back anything, my dear? Something sweet? Something special?”

“I’m good,” you assured him, waving them off. “Just don’t spend all our money, Nami.”

She smirked. “No promises.”

One by one, the crew disappeared down the dock, their voices fading into the distance. You watched until they were completely out of sight before turning on your heel, already feeling the anticipation curl in your stomach.

Being on a boat full of mostly men all the time can definitely get to you, especially when you need some alone time, something that is rare and hard to come by. Today, since it was almost certain that everyone would be off the boat, some much needed solitude was in order.

——

Sanji had barely stepped into town when he realized he had forgotten something. He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he spun on his heel.

“Damn it,” he muttered, adjusting the basket on his shoulder. “I was supposed to grab some containers for dinner tonight.”

The others were already wandering off Luffy sprinting ahead toward a food stall, Zoro heading in the opposite direction (probably lost already), and Nami dragging Usopp toward the market. No one noticed as Sanji veered off, making his way back toward the ship.

The walk wasn’t long, the scent of salt and the gentle rocking of the boat growing stronger as he neared the Sunny. He hummed to himself, mentally running through the ingredients he needed, completely unaware of what he was about to walk into.

He stepped lightly onto the deck, shoes tapping softly against the wood. The ship was eerily quiet, a rare occurrence with their crew. Normally, he’d appreciate the peace, but something about it made his brow furrow.

“(Y/N)?” he called out absentmindedly, though he didn’t expect a response. You had said you were going to relax, probably napping or reading in your room.

Shrugging, he made his way below deck, heading straight for the kitchen but then, out of pure curiosity (and maybe the tiniest bit of nosiness), he paused outside your door. He wasn’t planning on knocking, just listening for a moment, maybe to see if you had fallen asleep already.

That was when he heard it. A soft sound almost like a gasp. Sanji blinked, tilting his head. Another sound. A shaky breath. Sanji’s brain short circuited.

He swallowed thickly, eyes widening slightly as realization hit him like a speeding Sea Train. His hand, which had been halfway to knocking, immediately yanked back like he had been burned.

Oh. Oh.

He should leave. Right now. Turn around, walk away, pretend he heard nothing, and never think about it again. That would be the polite thing to do. The respectful thing to do.

And yet.

His feet refused to move.

A terrible, awful, sinful curiosity rooted him in place. His fingers twitched. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could be happening on the other side of that door.

Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take a step back. Nope. No, no, no. This was bad. He needed to go before

The ship rocked slightly, the floor beneath him creaking as his foot shifted.

And then. The door creaked open. His soul left his body.

——

The room was quiet, save for the sound of your own heavy breathing. The ship rocked gently on the waves outside, the muffled voices of birds flying by, barely audible from the deck. You had thought that you were alone.

Which is why you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

Didn’t notice the door creak open. Didn’t realize you had an audience until

“oh my god.”

Sanji’s entire body locked up. Every cell in his being screamed at him to move, to run, to do anything but it was too late. He had already seen too much.

His face turned red at an alarming rate, from the tips of his ears down to his neck. His hands, which had been casually shoved into his pockets, shot up to his face like a man shielding himself from the divine sight he had just walked in on.

His knees buckled. His breath hitched. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out only small, choked noises that sounded vaguely like prayers.

His mind was an absolute mess. On one hand, he knew he needed to leave. Immediately. On the other hand—OH GOD, YOU LOOKED LIKE A DREAM.

The way your skin glowed in the soft light, the way your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the way your expression was twisted in pleasure it was too much.

“I— I— I—” He wheezed. His soul was about to physically exit his body.

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with horror. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, realization dawned across your face, your very flustered, very not fully clothed face.

“UH” You scrambled for anything to cover yourself, your face burning hotter than the sun.

Sanji let out something between a strangled gasp and a whimper.

“I— I didn’t see anything!” he blurted, shaking violently. “Well, actually, I did—but I shouldn’t have—but I can’t unsee it now—BUT I DIDN’T MEAN TO—”

“SANJI!”

“YES, MY LOVE?!” His voice cracked.

“GET. OUT.”

That finally snapped him out of his stupor. With one last, absolutely pathetic nosebleed, Sanji let out an inhuman noise, spun around, and slammed the door behind him so hard the ship probably shook.

Silence.

From the other side of the door, you heard a loud crash, followed by weak, lovesick mumbling.

Sanji had absolutely collapsed.

——

After that incident, you had taken your time leaving your room, hoping that by some miracle, he had either forgotten what happened (unlikely) or at least regained enough composure to function like a normal human being around you (even more unlikely).You weren’t hiding from Sanji, exactly.

Unfortunately, the moment you stepped onto the deck, you spotted him.

Or rather Sanji spotted you.The second his ocean blue eyes landed on you, it was over.

His entire body went rigid, as if he had just been struck by lightning. His face already slightly pink from the heat went so violently red that it looked like he was about to self combust.

Then came the nosebleed. It started with a small trickle. Then another. Then a full on gush as the memory of what he had walked in on clearly assaulted his mind all over again.

Sanji wobbled. His legs shook. His breath hitched in his throat, his fingers twitching like he was fighting every instinct in his body.

“Ohhh… oh no…” he muttered, swaying slightly. “It’s happening again… mon dieu… mon dieu…”

Zoro, who had been standing nearby, raised an eyebrow at him. “The hell is wrong with him?”

Sanji let out a pained noise. A whimper. His entire soul was fracturing in real time.

You, watching this, sighed and crossed your arms. “Sanji.”

That was a mistake.

Because the moment your voice reached him, His name floating through your voice, his entire body shuddered, and he collapsed.

Flat on his back. Blood dripping from his nose. Muttering your name like some kind of prayer. The deck went silent.

Luffy, chewing on a piece of meat, blinked down at Sanji’s unconscious body. “Whoa. What happened to him?”

Usopp peered over and snorted. “I don’t know but he’s a perv—”

Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “Idiot probably deserved it.”

Meanwhile, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“…Sanji please….”

Sanji barely conscious let out the softest little, “yes, my love…” before finally passing out completely.

On his side after that second misfortune, Sanji HAD been avoiding you since the incident. Knowing full well how disrespectful he’s being. But also know he fully well will fumble. It was hard to avoid someone when every time he laid eyes on you, his body betrayed him.

Blushes. Stammering. Dramatic nosebleeds. Near death experiences. It had been days, and he was still acting like a wreck.

And frankly? You were done with it. You missed you guys hanging out and making food together.

Which is why, when you caught him sneaking off toward the kitchen, you marched right up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his stupid suit, and your fist cracked against his head.

Sanji staggered, a yelp escaping his lips as he clutched his skull. “OW!—MMa chérie! Why—”

You grabbed his tie and yanked him down so he was eye level with you. “Pull yourself together, Sanji!”

His eyes were spinning. He looked devastated. “BBut, my love—”

WHAM. Another hit. Lighter this time, but still firm. “No more nosebleeds. No more fainting. No more worshipping the ground I walk on like some desperate virgin!”

Sanji sputtered. “BBut I’m not—”

You raised your fist again.

“Okay, okay!!” he yelped, hands raised in surrender. “II will act normal, I swear—”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Sanji swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming at his temple. “YYes, I—”

His eyes flickered to your lips for half a second. Bad move.

You decked him.

Sanji flew like a damn ragdoll, his body went sailing across the deck before he crashed into a barrel with a pitiful THUD.

The crew who had been watching the whole thing winced.

Luffy, still chewing on his food, let out an impressed whistle. “Wow. is this because of the other day?.”

Usopp adjusted his goggles. “Think he’s still alive?”

Zoro, barely sparing Sanji a glance, scoffed. “Unfortunately.”

Meanwhile, Sanji twitched on the ground, a giant lump forming on his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

But despite the pain, despite the pure force of your hit his lips wobbled into a lovesick grin.

“Ohhh… they’re so strong…”

You cracked your knuckles. “Sanji.”

“Right! Right! Acting normal! Got it!!”

———

bustling with vendors and laughter as the crew explored. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting golden light over the marketplace. The air smelled of grilled seafood, sweet fruits, and warm bread. It should have been a relaxing outing.

Should have been.

Except Sanji was currently draped over a group of women near a café, all charm and smooth words, flashing that damn heart eyed smile of his.

“Oh, ladies, you truly brighten this already beautiful day~” he cooed, practically melting into the group. One of the women giggled, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“You’re quite the charmer,” she said, batting her lashes.

“I only speak the truth, my sweet,” Sanji replied, reaching for her hand, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. “How could I not, when standing before such goddesses?”

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw the back of your skull.

The audacity. The absolute nerve of this man.

After what happened on the ship the way he had short circuited, collapsed, and barely functioned in your presence for days he had the gall to be out here, flirting with random women like it was second nature? Like he hadn’t seen you in the most intimate, vulnerable position imaginable?

Unbelievable.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. You weren’t sure why you were so irritated. It wasn’t like Sanji didn’t do this all the time. This was normal. Standard. A daily occurrence.

But for some reason, today, it grated on you.

Maybe it was because every time you accidentally brushed against him since the incident, he’d combust like a malfunctioning robot. Maybe it was because he couldn’t even look you in the eye without stuttering.Maybe it’s because you missed him

Or maybe it was because, for a moment, just a brief moment, you thought maybe just maybe his affections toward you were different.

Apparently not.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, turning away. You weren’t going to stand around watching him throw himself at strangers all day.

Just as you were about to walk off, you heard one of the women giggle.

“You’re adorable,” she purred.

Your jaw clenched.

Then, without thinking, you spun on your heel and called out

“Sanji!”

His entire body stiffened.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he turned his head toward you. The women glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension.

“Oh?” one of them mused,. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Sanji’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

You tilted your head, arms still crossed.

“Well, Sanji?” you asked sweetly.

——

You weren’t mad. You weren’t. Because being mad would mean that you had some kind of claim over Sanji, and you didn’t.

He could flirt with whoever he wanted. He could call every woman a goddess, get on his knees, offer them his undivided attention like they were the only ones in the world. It was normal.

So why did it feel like a slow burn in your chest every time you heard him do it?

You had no right to feel this way. No reason to let your mood sour. So instead of dealing with it dealing with him you made a choice.

You avoided Sanji. instead? You spent the day with Zoro.

At first, the swordsman had given you a look when you plopped down beside him on the deck, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the ocean.

“The hell do you want?” he grumbled.

“Nothing,” you muttered, leaning back with a sigh. “Just… existing.”

Zoro huffed but didn’t push you away. That was the nice thing about him he didn’t pry. He just let you be.

The two of you ended up training together, sparring to get your mind off things. You let yourself focus on the swing of your arms, the rhythm of dodging, the burn of exertion rather than the twisting feeling in your gut.

For a few hours, it actually worked. Until Sanji noticed. At first, he didn’t think much of it. You were friends with Zoro, sure. He’d seen you talk before, train together. It was fine.

But as the day went on, something started to feel… off.

You weren’t coming into the kitchen to steal bites of food before dinner. You weren’t teasing him like you usually did. You weren’t around him at all.

Instead? You were with him. Sanji was pissy. Not just annoyed. Not just mildly irritated.

Pissy.

And it was your fault.

You, who had spent the entire day hanging around Zoro like he was your new favorite person. You, who had laughed at something the swordsman said actually laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard.

You, who had barely spared Sanji a second glance.

So now, he was chopping vegetables in the galley with the kind of aggression that should be illegal, his cigarette burning low as he muttered under his breath.

Nami, leaning against the counter with her drink, raised a brow. “You’re gonna cut your fingers off if you keep that up.”

Sanji slammed his knife down. “Tch.”

“Oh, somebody’s grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy.”

Nami snorted. “Uhhuh. So this doesn’t have anything to do with you know who hanging out with Zoro all day?”

Sanji scowled. “I don’t care what they do.”

“Right.” She took a sip of her drink. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at the deck for hours.”

“I have not—”

The galley doors swung open.

And there you were.

Sanji straightened immediately, expression neutral, but Nami could see the way his grip tightened on the counter.

You walked in casually, grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. “Hey, Sanji—”

“Oh,” he cut in, tone clipped. “You remember my name?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “Thought you’d forgotten, considering how busy you’ve been with moss head.”

You stared. “…Are you jealous?”

Sanji scoffed. “Pft.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Please.”

“You are jealous.”

“I am not.”

You smirked, stepping closer. “Oh my god. You are.”

Sanji turned away sharply, muttering something under his breath as he aggressively stirred a pot that didn’t need stirring.

You frowned . “You’re mad.”

“I am not mad.”

“You’re being all pissy.”

“I am not. would you just” He exhaled sharply, spinning around to face you, his frustration spilling over. “Forgive me for thinking you’d actually want to spend time with me instead of that muscle brained idiot!”

You blinked.

Sanji blinked.

The room fell silent.

Nami slowly sipped her drink, enjoying the show.

“…Wow,” you finally said, crossing your arms. “That was a lot of feelings all at once.”

Sanji ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “I don’t—tch—just—forget it.”

You tilted your head, then, grinning walked right up to him.

Sanji stiffened as you reached up, gently flicking his tie. “Y’know,” you mused, “for someone who flirts with every woman he sees, you sure lose your mind when the attention isn’t on you.”

Sanji’s jaw clenched. “That’s different.”

You raised a brow. “Is it?”

“Yes.” His eyes met yours, blue and burning with something raw. “Because it’s you.”

That wiped the smirk off your face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, with a final scoff, Sanji turned back to the stove. “Just sit down, alright? I made dinner.”

You step back a bit, but your chest felt a little warmer. “ Are you making it just for me?”

He let out a long suffering sigh. “Shut up.”

————

There are endless lists of moments Sanji fell in love with you. Like how he usually took care of people with food. The way you took care of him never ceases to make him love you more. The battlefield was still. The fight was over, the enemy long defeated, but your heart was still pounding.

Because where was he?

Your eyes scanned the wreckage, searching, ignoring the aches in your own body. The second you spotted the familiar flash of blonde Sanji, standing a few feet away, wiping blood from his lip your feet moved.

“Sanji!”

He barely had time to react before you reached him, hands immediately running over his arms, his chest, checking for any injuries.

“Are you okay?” You tilted his face up, frowning at the bruise forming on his cheek. “Damn it, Sanji, why do you never dodge”

A gasp slipped from his lips as he stared at you. “I—what?”

“You always get hit,” you scolded, brushing a bit of blood away from his jaw. “You know you don’t have to take every hit for someone else, right?”

Sanji blinked. It wasn’t like you to fuss over him. Sure, you flirted, teased, challenged him but this? This was new.

“You’re hurt, too,” he finally said, frowning as he spotted the scrape along your arm. His fingers brushed over it, eyes darkening slightly. “You should—”

“I’ll be fine.” You waved him off, still checking him over. “you’re always my first priority, okay?”

Sanji stopped breathing.

The world around him seemed to fade. The sound of the crew celebrating, the distant crash of waves it was all gone.

All that existed was you.

Your hands were still on his chest, completely oblivious to the way his heart was slamming against his ribs.

“…Sanji?”

Your voice snapped him out of it.

He exhaled sharply, shaking off the insane urge to just grab you, kiss you, do something. Instead, he covered his flustered expression with a lopsided grin.

“You really can’t resist touching me, huh?” He smirked, though it was weaker than usual. “I knew you liked me.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”

But the way you smiled at him relieved, warm, real Sanji decided he’d let you fuss over him forever.

———

It was the next day and Sanji wasn’t on the ship. He had gone exploring with Nami and Usopp, leaving the kitchen blissfully empty. Normally, you wouldn’t dare enter his domain without permission, but today was different.

Today, you had a plan. You were going to cook for him. Wasn’t it him that said the way someone cooks for people is how you learn about a person or whatever?

It wasn’t anything extravagant just a simple dish you’d seen him make before. But as you stood over the stove, carefully chopping ingredients (only slightly unevenly) and stirring the sauce (definitely not burning it this time), you felt something odd.

Nervousness.

Why were you nervous? You and Sanji flirted all the time, teased each other relentlessly, but this… this felt different. More personal.

You sighed, shaking off the thought. He cooks for everyone all the time. This isn’t a big deal. Except it was, and you knew it.

By the time Sanji returned, the dish was plated neatly on the counter. You were wiping your hands on a towel, pretending not to be hyperaware of how fast your heart was beating.

Sanji stepped into the kitchen, stretching. “Mmm, what’s that smell—?” He froze.

His eyes landed on the plate. Then on you. His brain short circuited.

“Did you…?” He pointed at the food. “Is this—?”

You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Yeah. I, uh… made it for you.”

Sanji’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest wanting come barrelling towards you. His entire face went red. “You—” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair like he had no idea what to do with himself. “You cooked? For me?”

You shifted awkwardly. “Well, yeah. You’re always the one feeding everyone, so I thought… you know.”

Silence. Then, Sanji dragged a hand down his face, clearly struggling.

You had never seen him at a loss for words before.

You smirked, trying to break the tension. “What, cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

Sanji looked at you, blue eyes flickering between the food and your face like he was witnessing something too much for his heart to handle.

“You’re… really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he muttered.

Before you could respond, a loud THUMP shook the kitchen.

“I SMELL FOOD!!”

Luffy’s massive form barreled into the room, eyes locked onto the plate like a starving wolf.

In an instant, Sanji snapped out of his daze. “DON’T YOU DARE, YOU GREEDY BASTARD—”

But before Luffy could make a move, BAM!

Zoro’s arm shot out, holding Luffy back with one hand while the rubber idiot flailed desperately. “LET ME GO, IT LOOKS SO GOOOOD—”

Zoro sighed, straining slightly to hold him in place. “Not this time, moron.”

Sanji cracked his knuckles, looking murderous. “If you so much as breathe near that plate, I swear on everything, Luffy—”

Luffy whined. “BUT I’M HUNGRYYYY.”

Zoro smirked, glancing between you and Sanji. “Let the lovebirds have their moment.”

Sanji choked. You nearly threw the nearest pan at Zoro’s head.

“IT’S NOT—WE’RE NOT—”

Zoro just walked away, still holding a wailing Luffy back. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Enjoy your date, cook.”

The kitchen fell into silence again.

Sanji coughed into his fist, refusing to meet your eyes. You could still see the pink dusting his cheeks.

You sighed, sitting on the counter. “Well. That was dramatic.”

Sanji hesitated, then finally sat across from you. His expression softened as he looked at the meal you’d made.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, voice quieter than usual. “Really.”

You shrugged, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “Just eat it before it gets cold, yeah?”

He smiled. A real, soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

And as he took his first bite, you swore you’d never seen him happier.

Sanji took his time with the meal you’d made for him, savoring every bite like it was the finest dish in the world. He didn’t scarf it down like Luffy would’ve no, he was gentle with it, like he knew how much effort you had put in.

And honestly? Watching him enjoy it sent a strange warmth through your chest. Maybe that’s why he does this.

He set his fork down with a satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with a napkin before finally looking at you. His eyes held something different now something real.

“That was incredible,” he murmured. “Not just the food. The fact that you… did this for me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it, alright?”

Sanji chuckled, shaking his head. “Too late.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. You could still hear Luffy and Usopp messing around outside, Zoro’s occasional annoyed grunts, the gentle sway of the Merry on the waves.

“Can I ask you something?” Sanji’s voice was softer now, hesitant.

You glanced at him. “What’s up?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down for a moment before exhaling, as if bracing himself. Then, he met your gaze, and all of his usual flirtatious bravado was gone.

“I… want to be with you,” he admitted, voice steady but genuine. “Not just as a game. Not just as some girl I flirt with and move on from. You.”

Your breath hitched slightly. You hadn’t expected this. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, any hint that this was just another one of his smooth lines. But there was nothing just pure, raw honesty.

Still, you had to be sure.

“You say that now,” you murmured, watching him carefully. “But what about the next pretty girl you see? The next chance to throw around your charms?”

Sanji’s jaw tightened. He stood up, stepping closer, his gaze intense. “You think I’d risk everything, risk you for some meaningless flirting?”

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was.

“I don’t just like you,” he continued, voice lower now, more serious than you’d ever heard him. “I adore you. Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you fight, the way you drive me absolutely insane in the best way.”

Your heart pounded.

Sanji’s fingers brushed against yours on the counter, tentative, like he was waiting for permission.

“You’re not just another girl to me,” he murmured. “You never were.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly knocked the wind out of you.

You let out a breath, glancing at your entwined fingers before looking back at him. “…Promise me.”

Sanji didn’t hesitate. “On my life.”

The weight of his words settled between you. Then, finally, finally, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Sanji froze. His face exploded in red, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like his brain had completely shut down.

You smirked. “Speechless?”

He made a strangled sound, gripping the counter for support. “I—You—Mon dieu.”

You laughed, shaking your head before lacing your fingers through his. “C’mon, lover boy. Let’s go before Luffy breaks in here again.”

Sanji blinked rapidly, trying to reboot his system. Then, he squeezed your hand, a dazed but ridiculously happy smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” he breathed, still looking like he couldn’t believe this was real. “Let’s go.”

——

The sun dipped low over the deck, bathing everything in warm hues of gold and orange. The crew lounged, basking in the afterglow of yet another victory. Luffy was inhaling food like he hadn’t just eaten an hour ago, Usopp was dramatically retelling the battle with enough embellishments to make a playwright jealous, and Zoro was leaning against the mast, arms crossed, eyes shut.

And you? You were watching him. Sanji, leaning against the railing, cigarette between his lips, looking effortlessly cool. As always. It was obnoxious. After everything, the battles, the tension, the way he looked at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, you decided… why not mess with him a little?

So, without a word, you strolled up to him, placed a hand on his cheek, and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Just like that. Casual. Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Then, before he could react, you pulled back, patted his cheek with a smirk, and murmured, “Thanks for being safe, Sanji.” And then you walked away. Silence. Not a normal silence. A deafening, stunned silence. The crew froze. Sanji? Sanji malfunctioned. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, landing on the deck with a faint hiss. His entire body locked up, lips still parted like his brain had left the building.

“HUH???” Luffy choked, rice spilling from his mouth.

Usopp smacked his own face. “Did—did they just—DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

Zoro cracked one eye open, and muttered, “Well, they’re actually doing it.”

Meanwhile, you were casually leaning against the mast, trying very hard not to laugh as you watched Sanji’s brain actively rebooting.

And then Sanji moved. No he stormed straight for you. Before you could react, his hands grabbed yours, yanking you close in one fluid motion. “Oh, you’re dangerous, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dangerously low.

Your smirk faltered slightly. “…Sanji?”

“You think you can just do that?” His hands slid up your arms, firm, possessive. “You think you can just kiss me and walk away? take me serious”

You swallowed. “I mean—”

Sanji cupped your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. Your heart slammed against your ribs.

His voice dropped, smooth as silk, deadly as sin.“Try pulling something like that again, love, and I’ll make sure you never get a chance to walk away.” Your breath hitched.

The crew? Losing their minds. “OH MY GOD???” Usopp shrieked. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?” Luffy yelled, food completely forgotten. Nami just sighed, shaking her head. “Finally.” Zoro? well that man fell back asleep. For the first time in your life speechless. Sanji? Sanji smirked. Because for once he won this round.

—

You snorted. “Oh please, if I wanted you, you’d already be mine.”

Sanji grinned, tilting his head. “That so?”

“Obviously.” The banter was light, familiar comfortable. The kind of thing that had become second nature between the two of you.

“Oh my god, just sleep together already.”You both froze. Slowly, your heads turned to see Zoro walking past, completely unfazed, his sword slung over his shoulder.

Sanji choked. “EXCUSE ME?”

Your brain short circuited. “WHAT??”

Zoro, not even looking back, just shrugged. “You guys are basically already there. Might as well make it official.”

Sanji exploded.“ARE YOU INSANE?! You can’t just say something like that, YOU ABSOLUTE MUSCLE HEADED JACKASS!” His face was red, You, meanwhile, were dying.

“Zoro, what the hell?!” you sputtered, half laughing, half horrified.

Zoro just yawned. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

From across the deck, Usopp cackled. “He’s got a point.”

Nami, sipping her drink, smirked. “Honestly, we were all just waiting for someone to say it out loud.”

Luffy, in true Luffy fashion, grinned. “wait so are you both…. doing it?”

Sanji made a sound that was borderline inhuman. “LUFFY, NO.”

You covered your face, trying and failing not to laugh. “I hate all of you.”

Sanji, still sputtering, ran a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

Zoro just smirked. “You’re welcome.” And with that, he walked away. Leaving the two of you standing there, stunned, mortified.

—

Most of the crew had gone to sleep, the only sounds left being the gentle lapping of waves and the faint creaking of the ship. You, however, were not sleeping. Instead, you were standing outside the men’s quarters, arms crossed, staring at the door like it had personally wronged you. Because Zoro’s words from earlier were still rattling around in your head.

“Oh my god, just sleep together already.”

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong and that was why, before you could talk yourself out of it, you knocked. There was silence, then a shuffling sound before the door cracked open revealing a very tired, very shirtless Sanji. His hair was messy, his tie discarded, and good lord he was wearing sweatpants.

You almost lost your nerve right then and there.

He blinked at you, rubbing his eyes. “Sweetheart? What are you doing here?”

You cleared your throat, trying very hard to keep your gaze above his collarbone. “Uh. Can I come in?”

Sanji raised a brow but stepped aside, letting you enter. The room was dimly lit, empty besides his neatly made bed and the scent of cigarettes lingering in the air.

He closed the door behind you. “Alright, what’s—”

“I think we should listen to Zoro.”

Sanji blinked. “ew what?”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “We should just… do it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sanji.exe had stopped working.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

You crossed your arms, feigning confidence. “You heard me.” Sanji stared. His mouth opened then closed. Opened again. Nothing came out. his face exploded into red.

“WWAIT, HOLD ON, YOU CAN’T JUST—” He covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide like you’d just set off a bomb. “Are you—do you—do you even know what you’re saying right now?!”

You smile, stepping closer. “What, you get to flirt all day, but I can’t be upfront?”

Sanji backed up instinctively, nearly tripping over his own bed. “That’s—! This is—!!”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “What’s wrong, Sanji?”

He whimpered. Actually whimpered. His hands were gripping the sheets like a lifeline, breathing erratic. “You can’t just waltz in here and say things like that! I have a weak heart!”

You bit back a laugh. “Weak heart, huh?” You leaned down, tilting your head. “Then should I leave?” Sanji grabbed your wrist before you could even move.

“…Don’t you dare.”

The air in the room shifted. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was how his grip on you had tightened, how the teasing in his eyes had turned into something else entirely.

“…Sanji?”

His hand lifted, fingers tracing gently over your wrist. “You really want this?” His voice was quieter now, more serious.

You met his gaze. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

And with that, your fate was sealed.

Sanji’s lips lingered against your knuckles, the warmth of his breath sending shivers up your spine. His usual playfulness had melted away, leaving something real, something that made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t used to. Your heart pounded. You had started flirting with him all the way back as a joke just to mess with him, to see if he’d break like he always did. But now?Now you were the one who couldn’t breathe. Sanji lifted his gaze, his thumb brushing against your wrist. His voice was softer now, the teasing gone. “Say it again.”

You swallowed. “Say what?”

“That you want this.” His grip tightened, not forceful, but firm. “That you want me.

It should’ve been easy. You flirted with him all the time. This should’ve been just another game, another battle to see who would crack first. But looking at him now the way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes searched yours with something dangerously close to hope this wasn’t a game anymore. You took a shaky breath. “I want this.” Sanji inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him. Sanji inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him.

“…Say it again,” he murmured, almost desperate.

You cupped his face, letting your thumb trace over his cheek. “I want you, Sanji.”

That was all it took. A groan left his lips, and before you could process it, his hands were on you gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, his forehead pressed against yours as he shook with the effort of holding himself back.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he whispered, breathless. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You smiled, running your fingers through his messy blonde hair. “I have an idea.” Sanji let out a low chuckle then, with a sudden rush, he flipped you onto the bed. You barely had time to gasp before he caged you beneath him, arms braced on either side of your head.

“I’ve spent so long waiting for this,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “Thinking you were just teasing, that you’d never really…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

You grinned, hands trailing down his chest. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Sanji groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Silence. Sanji froze. Your breath caught. “What did you just say?”

His entire body locked up. “…Nothing.”

You smirked. “Sanji.”

He refused to lift his head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You totally did.”

“I absolutely did not.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Sanji. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he lifted his head, cheeks bright red.

You smiled. “Say it again.”

He groaned, dropping his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

But he still whispered it against your skin, soft and genuine. “…I love you.”

—

It was the next morning the room was dimly lit, the gentle sway of the ship rocking beneath you as you and Sanji were lost in each other. His hands traced along your skin, slow and reverent, as if memorizing every inch of you. His breath was warm against your collarbone, lips trailing lazy kisses up your neck, stopping just beneath your ear.

“Mon amour,” he murmured, voice thick with devotion, “you’re intoxicating, you know that?”

You hummed, fingers slipping through his golden hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from him. “And yet, you’re the one who can’t seem to get enough.”

Sanji let out a breathless chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can you blame me?” His fingers trailed down your spine, setting your nerves alight. “You’re—” He kissed you deeply, swallowing the words before they could leave his lips. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the way his hands held you so carefully, like you were something precious. Every touch, every kiss was a promise one that you could feel down to your bones.

“Sanji…” you whispered against his lips, feeling his breath hitch as you ran your hands down his chest, your own teasing smirk forming as you

SLAM!

“HA! I KNEW IT!”

You and Sanji froze. Slowl horrifyingly you turned your heads toward the doorway. Usopp stood there, eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open in pure shock.

A beat of dead silence. Then processing just exactly what he caught and “knew” “OH MY GOD!”

Usopp screamed, immediately throwing his hands over his face like that would somehow erase what he had just seen. “I NEED TO BLEACH MY EYES—OH GOD—WHY—”

“GET OUT!!!” Sanji roared, grabbing the nearest object a pillow and hurling it at him.

But Usopp was already gone, sprinting down the hall at full speed. “NAMI!! I SAW IT! I SAW IT, AND I CAN NEVER UNSEE IT—” The door slammed shut again. Silence. Sanji, breathing heavily, still had his arm mid throw, his face burning scarlet.

You, equally red, slowly buried your face in your hands. “…Well.”

Sanji collapsed back against the mattress, groaning. “Does anyone knock or have courtesy?”

You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “we’re on a pirate ship, I think manners left the minute he stepped on”

From somewhere down the hall, Usopp could still be heard wailing. Sanji groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “…I’m moving to another ship.”

lol my last day of vacation and i’m about to go home but as it is a 10 flight i shall leave you with this. I also reach the text box limit and now some sections look squishy 😔

Sanji: heh... step aside ladies... let a real man handle this (does the exact same thing but worse)

Boothill HSR X Reader

“Im Just Baking Cookies”

Boothill LOVES how you are so quiet but still tries to sound mean.

MASTERLIST

ᡕᠵデ气亠. The scent of warm vanilla and butter hung in the air like a soft lullaby. The kitchen of the Astral Express was cozy, golden light pouring in from the windows that overlooked the glowing dreamscape of Penacony. The others were out exploring, no doubt causing a mess. You’d opted out this time. From Caelus running around all the time and Dan Heng being the most cynic you’ve ever met. you needed a you day

You stood at the counter, a smear of flour on your cheek and a whisk in your hand as you mixed the batter with care. A batch of cookies cooled beside you while the next round waited patiently for the oven. The rhythmic sound of metal scraping against the bowl was oddly soothing.

You didn’t even hear the door open. You didn’t hear the soft boots on metal. But you did hear the voice. “Now darlin’, I gotta say, I didn’t think the Express came with an angel in the kitchen.”

You jumped, the bowl nearly slipping from your hands. You spun on instinct, heart rocketing up your throat. Without thinking, you pointed your whisk like it was a weapon. Boothill stood in the doorway, hat tipped low, a roguish grin cutting across his face like it had been carved from charm itself. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, lazy and at ease, like he hadn’t just snuck onto the Astral Express uninvited.

And yet, there was no panic in your chest. Just annoyed disbelief. “You lost?” you said, tone flat, though your grip on the whisk didn’t loosen.

His grin widened. “Nope. Think I found exactly what I was lookin’ for.”

He strolled further into the kitchen, bootsteps slow and deliberate. He moved like a man who knew his effect on people. With every step closer, you felt your expression harden. But your stance never wavered. “You’re trespassing,” you said. “Which means you’ve got about five seconds to explain yourself before I chase you out with a kitchen utensil.”

Boothill paused a few feet away, giving the whisk a curious once over. “Now hold on there, sugar,” he drawled, voice thick with that warm southern charm. “Didn’t mean no harm. Just couldn’t help followin’ the scent of somethin’ sweet. Turns out it wasn’t the cookies.”

You stared. Said nothing. He chuckled, low and velvety, hand reaching up to tilt his hat back. “You always this silent?”

Still, you didn’t respond. You raised your whisk a little higher, narrowing your eyes as if sizing him up for a duel.

Boothill blinked, then gave a small, amused whistle. “Well, I’ll be. You’re a real pistol, ain’t ya?”

He took another step forward. You jabbed the whisk at him not quite a threat, slowly taunting over. He stopped. “Easy now,” he said, palms raised. “Ain’t here for a shootout. Just figured… if the rest of y’all were out, you might enjoy some company.”

You glanced at the oven. Back at him. “I was enjoying the lack of company.”

Boothill didn’t flinch. “Sure you were. But look at it this way you keep bakin’, I’ll keep talkin’. Maybe I’ll even convince you I ain’t all that bad.”

You stared a moment longer, weighing your options. Finally, you turned back to your bowl with a soft sigh, lowering the whisk but only slightly. “Stay out of my way,” you muttered. “And don’t touch anything.”

Behind you, Boothill gave a triumphant hum, the grin still stitched to his face “No promises, sugar.” But he didn’t touch anything.

He just leaned against the wall, arms folded, hat tipped low, and talked and while you didn’t flirt back not once your silence didn’t push him away either. You kept your back to him, the sound of the whisk hitting the sides of the metal bowl grounding you as much as it filled the silence. Well not quite silence. Boothill kept talking, weaving lazy words in that smooth, southern drawl of his, like he was just killing time on a front porch somewhere.

You weren’t listening. Not really. But you also hadn’t kicked him out. “What is that smell?” he asked eventually, voice a little closer now. “Somethin’ sweet. Kinda like you.”

You rolled your eyes finally turning to grab the small bowl of buttercream frosting you had chilling on the side. You dipped a spoon in, then held it out toward him wordlessly. “Try it,” you said. “Since you’re so good at judging what’s sweet.”

He grinned like a devil given permission. “Well now, don’t mind if I do.” Boothill stepped forward, real slow. He didn’t take the spoon from you. No, that wouldn’t have been too easy. Instead, he leaned down and tasted it mouth brushing the edge of the spoon like it was something far more intimate than sugar and butter. His lips curled as the flavor melted on his tongue.

He took another step forward. Then another. Until the air between you thinned, stretched taut like a wire. He was close now too close. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t flinched, but your hand was still midair holding that spoon, and Boothill was standing in the halo of soft kitchen light like a man who knew exactly how to make it all feel too much.

His eyes locked with yours glinting with that same wild. “Now that,” he murmured, voice dipped in honey and danger, “is the best damn thing I’ve tasted in a while. And trust me, sweetheart, I’ve tasted a lot of things in my time.”

You breathed out quiet, shaky. The kind of breath you didn’t mean to let slip. The kind that betrayed something deeper.

He smiled wider, a knowing tilt of his mouth. “Didn’t mean to leave you speechless, sugar. But I gotta admit… it looks real good on you.” Your hand finally lowered, the spoon forgotten. Your other tightened slightly around the whisk at your side like it could anchor you. You weren’t flustered you weren’t. But the warmth in your cheeks? The way your heart tripped in your chest?

Still, your voice came back to you, steady despite the hitch a second ago “You’re standing too close.”

Boothill didn’t move. He just leaned in, just enough for his words to graze your ear. “Funny,” he said lowly. “Feels like I’m just where I oughta be.”

You didn’t push him away. But you did tilt your head just slightly, eyes narrowing.

“watch yourself,” you warned, “I’ll shove that spoon somewhere frosting doesn’t belong.”

Boothill laughed quiet and genuine, like you’d just made his whole day. He finally stepped back with both hands up again. “Got it, sugar. No touchin’. For now.”

You exhaled once more, this time through your nose. Then turned back to the bowl, ignoring how warm the kitchen suddenly felt. You heard him lean against the counter behind you.

When the last batch of cookies cooled and the frosting was tucked away in a small container, the adrenaline had finally worn off. The rush of being snuck up on, the intensity of his presence, all of it settled into a quiet buzz at the back of your mind. Boothill hadn’t left not that you’d asked him to anymore but the kitchen had grown calmer. Now you sat beside him on the small bench by the kitchen window, legs pulled up slightly as you bit into one of your cookies. The sweetness was warm, rich, buttery. Comforting.

Boothill, meanwhile, was still talking. Something about Penacony. Something about how the colors were too bright and too fake. Something about a guy he once knew with “a mustache that could lasso a comet.” You weren’t really following. You just nodded occasionally.

But as you chewed slowly and let your thoughts drift, something clicked in the back of your mind. Wait… if his whole body’s robotic everything but his head then… He can’t eat. Not really. Not like this. Which means… he can’t feel. No nerves, no receptors. No warmth, no pressure. No pain. No pleasure.

Your eyes narrowed faintly in thought. So… theoretically, he couldn’t You glanced sideways at him, a half laugh puffing through your nose at your own internal joke. He probably can’t even get horny. Not that you were planning on testing that theory. Ever.

Boothill kept yapping, completely oblivious to the odd train of thought you’d gone down. His arms were folded behind his head now, hat tilted back slightly as he rambled about something that might’ve involved a gunfight on top of a moving train. Or maybe a bar fight. With him, it was hard to tell.

As he went on, your eyes landed on the way his hair had slipped down into his face again. It was long too long, really, for someone so full of motion and swagger. It fell in front of his eyes, almost shielding them. A curtain of copper and gold. Without thinking, you reached out and brushed it aside just enough to tuck a few strands behind his ear.

And that’s when he stopped. Mid sentence. Mid word. Just… froze. His whole body stilled like someone hit a pause button. You blinked, suddenly realizing what you’d done. Boothill’s eyes slowly met yours.

You lowered your hand, unsure for a split second. But Boothill didn’t look away. Didn’t say a word

Maybe not in the way most people did. But there was something in that simple moment your fingertips brushing his temple, sliding the hair from his face that made the air feel a little sillier.

The expression on his face wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t charming. It was just… still. You took another bite of your cookie, suddenly feeling like you’d done something much more intimate than you intended. Boothill finally cleared his throat, a flicker of motion returning to his features. The grin came back but it was softer now “Well,” he said, voice a little more low pitched than before, “that was… somethin’.”

You just looked out the window, letting the taste of sugar and frosting linger on your tongue, and felt the weight of that quiet between you both. For the first time since he’d stepped foot on the Express, Boothill wasn’t talking.

You reached for another cookie, already bracing yourself for Boothill to launch into another absurd story something about a bounty, a jailhouse escape, maybe even a mechanical rattlesnake this time because he always did. You thibk by now he knows you’re not the biggest talker in the world. But just before your fingers brushed the plate, his hand caught yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. His touch was firm but not harsh. Metal fingers curled gently around yours, cool and seamless, humming faintly with life. You didn’t even have time to react before he brought both your hands up… and pressed them to his face.

The contact was immediate.

The warmth of his skin, the faint vibration of the robotic parts moving beneath it all sank into your palms as he leaned in, into your touch and he just kept talking.

“Well now, this reminds me of the time I went toe to toe with a fella named Colt McGraw big ol’ gunslinger, real sore loser. Got hisself stuck in a barrel of moonshine after I tricked him into thinkin’ I was a ghost long story.”

His accent was as thick and honey smooth as ever, drawling like he hadn’t just casually stolen the most flustering moment of your entire day. Your hands stayed there, pinned softly to the sides of his face. His hair tickled your knuckles. His skin, the only flesh left on his body, was warm beneath your fingertips. And those vivid eyes sharp, playful, aware were half lidded in a way that made it worse. So much worse.

You sat completely still, back straight, staring at him like someone had just pulled the floor out from under you. Your face burned. It crept up from your neck, flushed across your cheeks, and hit the tips of your ears in a matter of seconds. He knew. He had to know.

But he just kept rambling, voice slow and syrupy. “Y’know, I gotta say, ain’t every day someone can be so on guard and make me feel this way. Makes a cowboy feel like a person again.” He smiled. “Kinda nice.”

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You tried again. Still nothing. Your brain was static, your thoughts replaced with a single screaming line of internal monologue: what is happening what is happening what is happening.

Boothill didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. If anything, he looked relaxed. Comfortable. Still holding your hands to his face like they belonged there.

And you flushed, frozen, helplessly red just sat there, cookie forgotten, wondering how the hell a man made mostly of metal could make you feel this warm.

ᡕᠵデ气亠

Boothill’s words kept rolling, painting images of outlaw duels and near death standoffs with the kind of ease that came only from experience or embellishment. Probably both. But he never let go. Your hands stayed cradled against his face the whole time, his metal fingers wrapped gently around your wrists like he wasn’t ready to let the moment end. He leaned into your touch time and time again.

Eventually, though, the story began to wind down. Something about escaping a collapsing bridge with nothing but a grappling hook and “a prayer to whoever was listenin’.” He chuckled at his own punchline, the corner of his mouth curling in that easy, boyish way that somehow made everything worse.

Then, slowly reluctantly he let your hands go. He lowered them from his face with a gentleness that didn’t match the brashness he wore like a badge. His fingers slid away last, like he was memorizing the shape of you with the tips of his metal hands. When he looked at you, his eyes were steady.

“Lil’ darlin’,” he said, voice low and warm like sunbaked earth, “you got hands that feel like home. I ain’t sure what kinda trouble you’re stirrin’ up in that head o’ yours, but I reckon I’ll be thinkin’ about this for a good long while.”

He tipped his hat just slightly and started to turn like he meant to leave. Your eyes dropped to your lap for half a second before you stopped him.

“…I really liked your stories,” you said softly, barely above a whisper.

He paused in the doorway. You hadn’t meant to sound so genuine. So raw. But it was too late to take it back. Boothill glanced over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch the smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Well… guess I’ll have to come back ‘round and tell you another sometime, huh?”

And just like that, he was gone. Leaving behind the faint scent of old gunpowder and desert air and a heartbeat in your chest that didn’t quite know how to settle down.

Boothill: So… if I “accidentally” kissed you, youd fall in love right?

You: If you “accidentally” kissed me, I’d “accidentally” reload your gun with glitter and watch you die fabulous.

Sunday HSR X Reader

꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ Get used to it ꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱

masterlist

part 2

a small drabble with him as a passenger of the astral express…… and march being a fangirl

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ The Astral Express gym wasn’t exactly high tech, but it had everything you needed: open space, training mats, and just enough echo to make your footsteps sound cooler than they actually were. Sunday stood on the mat already, stretching his arms slowly. He was always composed. polished words, a little distant but never unfriendly. A recent addition to the Express, still settling in. You figured sparring would be a good way to break the ice. Or, at the very least, make him sweat a little.

“You ever sparred before?” you asked, rolling your shoulders as you stepped onto the mat across from him.

“Once or twice,” Sunday replied, giving you a look that was polite. “I assume you’ve done this more than that.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, a bit. We do it sometimes, just to stay sharp. Helps keep my mind quiet too.”

That made him pause for a moment. “I can understand that.” There was a brief stretch of silence as you both settled into your stances. You smiled.

“Alright. Light spar. First to three taps?”

“Fair enough.”

Then you moved. Sunday was careful. Precise. He didn’t rush or overstep, but you could tell he was reading you watching how you shifted your weight, how fast you reacted. You responded in kind, your movements smooth and quick, not showy like usual. This wasn’t about flair. It was about rhythm, connection, learning someone without needing words. The first tap came when you managed to slip behind him and brush his shoulder. He looked surprised. The second came quickly after his palm barely grazing your side as he dodged your next strike.

It was fun. Quietly fun.

Somewhere in the middle of the third round, things shifted. You both moved at the same time your foot angled to pivot, his shifting forward for a counter. It wasn’t anything dramatic, no wild kick or spin, just a split second misstep.

You felt your foot catch his. His arm moved quickly, instinctively reaching to steady you. Too late. Your balance tipped forward, his backward, and gravity did the rest.

The two of you landed with a dull thud on the mat. For a second, neither of you said anything. You opened your eyes to find yourself sprawled over him, chest pressing lightly against his, palms braced on either side of his shoulders. His arm was still around your waist where he’d tried to catch you.

Your faces were close. Close enough to count the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes. Close enough that his breath, warm and even, brushed against your cheek.

“Oh.” The sound escaped before you could help it. Not exactly graceful.

Sunday’s eyes didn’t move away from yours. His expression wasn’t annoyed, or embarrassed. If anything, he looked… thoughtful. Still. Like he wasn’t sure what to make of the moment either. You felt the weight of the silence more than the fall.

“I, uh” You shifted slightly, meaning to push yourself up, but your hand slipped against the mat, and you instinctively leaned closer to steady yourself. Now your nose almost touched his.

His hand, still on your back, tensed faintly just a twitch. But he didn’t move it. You laughed under your breath, a little breathless. “This probably looks worse than it is.”

“Maybe,” Sunday said, voice low, not quite smiling but not pulling away either. “But I’m not complaining.”

That made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him again, There was something softer in his face now. you realized you weren’t in a rush to get up. Not yet.

“…You okay?” you asked, quieter this time.

He nodded once. “You?”

You nodded too, eyes not leaving his. “Yeah.”

Another beat passed. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing under your hands. Not hurried. Just… calm. You slowly pushed yourself up and off of him, offering your hand once you were upright. He took it without hesitation. His fingers were warm.

Back on his feet, Sunday brushed some dust off his sleeve, but his eyes lingered on you longer than before. There was nothing more to say right then. So he just smiled and walked away.

“God I need a cold shower after that”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Turns out it wasn’t a cold shower but nevertheless, a shower. The steam from your shower still clung to your skin as you stepped into the parlor car, toweling your damp hair with one hand, dressed in your usual cozy nightwear. You’d taken your time lingering under the hot water, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled in your chest after the spar with Sunday.

It was the way he looked at you. Still. Quiet. And how you hadn’t wanted to move. You exhaled, trying to shove the memory aside. Maybe it was just adrenaline. Heat of the moment stuff. Totally normal when you faceplant into someone’s lap. Right?

As you rounded the corner into the parlor car, voices floated up from the seating area. You paused half curious, half wary.

“…I’m telling you,” came March’s unmistakable whisper. “They were on top of each other. Like, full on dramatic slow motion fall. And neither of them moved for a good ten seconds. It was so weirdly quiet. I thought they were gonna kiss.”

Your stomach dropped. Your face lit up like a reactor core.

“March.” That was Dan Heng. His tone had that deadpan flatness that meant you’re being ridiculous again.

“No, I’m serious!” March hissed. “It was intense. They were looking at each other like… like in one of those cheesy holo dramas. And she totally forgot I was there. I had to back out slowly like I was interrupting something.”

“Maybe you were,” Caelus muttered under his breath.

“EXACTLY,” March said. “I mean, I always thought something might happen, but not this soon. And with Sunday? He’s like… all elegant and mysterious”

“I heard that.”

Three heads whipped around at once. You stood in the doorway, arms crossed, still towel drying your hair, blinking at them like you’d just caught them stealing cookies.

March squeaked and jumped three inches off the couch. “You! When did you get there?!”

“Long enough,” you said flatly, stepping fully into the car. “Long enough to hear my public execution.”

March scrambled to explain herself, hands flailing. “No no no! It wasn’t an execution, it was it was a friendly dramatic retelling! Like bedtime gossip!”

You stared at her. Dan Heng looked like he was rethinking every decision that led him to this moment. Caelus was trying very hard not to laugh.

You pointed at March. “Next time, announce the playbill if you’re gonna perform my personal life in three acts.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” March said, now clutching a cushion to her face. “Honestly, I thought it was kind of cute!”

“March.”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll stop talking!”

You plopped down into the seat beside her, stealing the cushion from her arms to bury your face in it.

“I hate everything,” came your muffled voice.

Dan Heng finally looked up from his book. “So… did anything actually happen?”

You didn’t answer. When you pulled the pillow away, your face was still pink. You shrugged. You slumped into the seat and closed your eyes.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You walked along the glowing path of the new planet’s market district, your boots clicking softly against the polished stone. Lanterns floated above the crowd, casting a warm shimmer over everything, and strange alien wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze. It was one of the calmer stops for the Astral Express no explosions, no urgent missions. Just exploration, some research, and a little breathing room.

You sipped your drink a fizzy, spiced thing with a color that probably wasn’t natural and hummed to yourself as you trailed behind March and Caelus. They were arguing about the best souvenir to bring back for Pom–Pom.

You lingered by a street vendor selling constellation shaped pastries when a man tall, smug, and clearly very into himself sidled up beside you.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said, his tone low and confident, like he thought he was the main character in a romance drama.

You blinked, startled. “I’m uh, I’m good, thanks.”

But he didn’t get the hint. He smiled wider, stepping just a little closer. “You sure? Someone like you shouldn’t spend a night like this alone. I know a place nearby quiet, private. Just you and me, maybe some music”

“Wow,” you interrupted, trying to laugh it off. “That’s… forward.”

“Life’s short,” he replied smoothly. “Why waste time pretending?”

You took a step back, now officially uncomfortable. “Really, I’m not interested”

“She’s not.”

The voice came from behind you, calm and steady. Sunday. You turned your head just as he stepped into view, his hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable but voice just sharp enough to cut tension.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he added casually. “She’s not into that sort of thing.”

Your eyes widened. Girlfriend? Oh.

The guy blinked, his confidence faltering. “Oh I didn’t realize…”

“Now you do,” Sunday said, still polite, still calm. “You can move along.”

The man muttered something under his breath and walked off, melting into the crowd like smoke.

You exhaled slowly. “Okay. That was…”

“Uncomfortable,” Sunday finished for you, tilting his head slightly. “He wasn’t taking the hint.”

“No kidding,” you muttered. Then, with a faint smile, “Thanks for the save.”

He looked at you, eyes softening just a little. “You looked like you needed one.”

You nodded. “I did. But also ‘girlfriend?’ Really?”

“Seemed effective,” he replied without missing a beat. “Was I wrong to assume you wouldn’t want to go home with a stranger tonight?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, definitely not wrong. Just… caught me off guard.”

He gave a small shrug. “You can correct the record if you want.”

You looked at him, thoughtful now. The lantern light played against the sharp lines of his face, but his gaze was gentle, open.

“Nah,” you said, voice light. “Let them think I’ve got someone.”

Sunday gave the smallest smile. And then, almost too quiet to hear. “Maybe someday they’ll be right.”

You turned to him but he was already walking ahead, hands still in his pockets, calm as ever. You blinked. Then grinned.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

March wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not really. She had just been browsing one of the cute trinket stalls on the edge of the plaza admiring some heart shaped glass charms when she heard your voice from the next row over. You sounded… awkward. Uncomfortable.

Curious, March peeked around the corner, just in time to see some local guy lean in too close to you. His tone was oily, confident in that blech kind of way that made her want to throw a glowing pebble at his head. You were clearly trying to shake him off.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

March’s soul left her body.

Sunday’s voice was smooth and even, not threatening, but with that finality that made the creepy guy instantly freeze. He stepped up beside you with this casual calm, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable but there was no doubt in his tone.

“She’s not into that sort of thing,” he added coolly. “You can move along.”

The guy mumbled something and slinked away. March’s brain started loding the spinny ball of death.

Girlfriend? GIRLFRIEND?!

She didn’t even mean to gasp aloud, but it happened. Thankfully, no one heard. She ducked back behind the trinket stall, crouching like she was dodging a security drone. Her heart thumped against her ribs. When she peeked again, you were talking to Sunday, flustered and blushing. He stood there like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just set the local rumor mill on fire with one casual sentence.

March didn’t wait another second. She took off sprinting.

“I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.”

Caelus and Dan Heng both jumped in their seats as March burst into the tea shop, nearly knocking over a decorative lantern in her haste.

Dan Heng put down his cup with a sigh. “Let me guess.”

“No no guessing. Just listen.” March bent over the table, panting dramatically. “Sunday just called her his girlfriend. To a random guy. Who was hitting on her.”

Caelus blinked. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me! He said it without hesitation., ‘She’s my girlfriend.’ Boom. IT WAS SO KNIGHT IN SHINNING ARMOUR.”

Dan Heng raised an eyebrow. “And she didn’t correct him?”

“Not at all! She blushed! She just stood there blushing!”

Caelus slowly grinned. “Huh. I thought we were still in the pining phase.”

“That’s what I thought too!” March wailed, dropping into a seat across from them. “I thought I had time to mentally prepare for the will they won’t they!”

Dan Heng leaned back. “Maybe they skipped to the good part.”

March glared. “This is a story, Dan Heng. There’s a structure.”

Caelus sipped his tea again, amused. “BUT LIKE he did that just to protect her. Im sure we would do the same thing”

“Shhhhh are either of you wanting to marry her and want to look longingly at her.”

Dan Heng muttered, “I don’t think that that matters when you’re watching out for someone”

March just pointed toward the plaza. “Mark my words. Those losers are happening .”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

March 7 lay curled beneath her mountain of pastel blankets, one leg sticking out, mouth slightly open, a bubble of drool forming with every breath. She looked… innocent. Unaware. Vulnerable.

Perfect. You stood at the edge of her bed, Caelus beside you, both cloaked in shadows and silence. “She sleeps like someone who hasn’t committed crimes,” you whispered.

“She sleeping like she didn’t fully diss Dan Heng and I for just existing,” Caelus murmured, smirking. “She called me a coward yesterday for not pushing you two together faster.”

You narrowed your eyes at the blissfully unaware March, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Your time of reckoning is over.”

And then, like a flash of divine vengeance, the pillow came down. WHUMP. March jolted awake with a squeak, arms flailing, hair a tangled mess. “WHAT WHO”

“JUSTICE,” you declared, striking again, this time dual wielding pillows like a vengeful sleep deprived warlord. “FOR PEACEFUL EXISTENCE.”

“TRAITOR!” March screamed as another pillow hit her in the face, this one clearly Caelus’s, who was now leaning against her dresser and howling with laughter. “You were supposed to be neutral!”

“I was never neutral,” Caelus grinned, tossing another pillow into your hands like a loyal arms dealer. “I just picked the winning side.”

“You picked VIOLENCE!”

“You picked CRAZY

Pillows flew. March kicked off her covers and dove behind the mountain of backup pillows she had an arsenal you knew too well. She emerged like a pink haired general, dual wielding plushies shaped like various alien mascots.

“I DID NOTHING TO YOU CAELUS!” she shouted, flinging one at Caelus’s head. “I THOUGHT YOU SHIPPED THIS LIKE ME! AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!”

“I WAS trying to make it happen, March!” you cackled, blocking her throw with your arm. “but you’re crazy lady.”

“Because SOMEBODY has to!”

The room became a flurry of feathers and yells, the floor littered with fabric casualties. March screamed something about “romantic sabotage” while Caelus used a star shaped cushion as a shield and tried not to collapse from laughter. Eventually, panting and half buried beneath a pile of glittery pillows, March flopped onto her back.

“This isn’t over,” she wheezed. “You might’ve won the battle…”

You sat on the floor, leaning against her bedframe, heart light and cheeks aching from laughing too hard. March peeked at you with a sleepy, dramatic glare.

“Just admit you like him,” she muttered.

You grinned. “No comment.”

Caelus snorted. “So that’s a yes.”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The corridor was quiet, save for the distant, muffled thumps echoing from March’s room. Sunday padded down the hall in soft slippers, wrapped in a navy blue pajama set that still looked oddly regal despite the sleepy looseness of it. The collar was slightly askew, and his curls had lost their typical styling, falling gently across his forehead. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him toward the commotion curiosity, perhaps. Or maybe instinct.

The door to March’s room was open just enough. And there you were. Mid laugh, caught in the middle of a pillow war that had clearly escalated. Caelus was ducked behind a wardrobe like it was a bunker, March stood on her bed like a self declared queen of feathers, and you glorious in your pyjamas were twirling a pillow like a blade of justice.

Feathers floated through the air like snowflakes. Sunday didn’t move. He leaned against the doorframe, half in shadow, just out of your view. And he watched. And he smiled. He’d grown up in rooms where laughter felt rehearsed. Where joy was reserved for ceremonies, and everything had meaning, even the silence. He had known peace, yes but the kind that was still, stagnant. Like a pond reflecting stars instead of the sky itself.

Robin had always tried to shield him. Kept him wrapped in the comfort of his ideals, gave him a dream so beautiful he forgot what real light looked like. Messy, loud, brilliant life. The way your hair stuck to your cheek with sweat, the way your eyes gleamed as you dodged March’s wild throw, the unfiltered, unashamed joy in your voice as you shouted something absurd about “pillow fueled vengeance.”

He’d never seen experienced this feeling. Sunday’s heart thudded quietly in his chest, a rhythm that didn’t belong to the Family or any script he’d ever memorized. He liked that you weren’t afraid to be ridiculous. That you laughed freely. That you made others laugh.

He liked that you didn’t seem to carry your burdens in front of him not because they didn’t exist, but because you chose, for a moment, not to let them define you. he liked that when you were with your friends like this, you looked entirely untouchable. Unreachable. He wanted to reach anyway. But he stayed still. Let the moment stay yours. A feather floated past his cheek. Sunday blinked once, then quietly turned, retreating back down the hall before anyone noticed. He didn’t need to be in that moment to be part of it.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Feathers still drifted in your hair. Your arms ached from swinging pillows like weapons of mass destruction. March had declared herself “the rightful queen of shipwide shipping” before collapsing in a pile of her own making, and Caelus was last seen crawling down the hallway muttering something about betrayal and glitter.

You didn’t make it to your room. Your legs had carried you halfway down the train, and then… gave up. The Parlor Car welcomed you with soft lights and the hush of starlight outside the window. It was quiet here. Peaceful. And most importantly there was a couch.

You barely noticed the figure already sitting there. You just dropped into the opposite end of the long velvet seat with a graceless thump, curling onto your side and sighing like the soul had been knocked out of you. Your hair stuck to your forehead. Your shirt was rumpled. You didn’t even bother taking off your socks.

Sleep claimed you within seconds. Sunday, seated near the center of the couch with a book resting gently across his lap, blinked slowly. He hadn’t even heard you come in. His eyes drifted from the page, tracing over your sleeping form. The way your chest rose and fell. The faint smudge of pillow war aftermath still clinging to your cheek. One of your shoes had fallen off somewhere on the way in your foot dangled off the edge of the couch, sock half hanging.

You looked peaceful. He closed the book without a sound. He stood, quietly padded over to the small linen cabinet near the entrance of the car, and pulled out a soft, navy blue blanket. One of Himeko’s spares, likely. He unfolded it carefully, draped it over you from shoulders to toes, and adjusted it so it wouldn’t slip off during the night.

Then he knelt beside the couch, brushing a stray feather from your hair with a light, careful touch. in a voice only the walls heard, he murmured,

“Sleep well. May your dreams never be burdens.”

He lingered for a moment, hand resting just beside your shoulder. Then he moved to the nearby armchair, sat down, and tilted his head toward the stars just outside the wide train windows. His book remained unopened in his lap, forgotten. He didn’t need it. Tonight, the soft rhythm of your breathing was enough.

Can I ask for Sale Fisher x fem!reader that's popular? And could you PLS PLS PLS don't make her mean? Like, I want her to be popular becouse she's one of those poeple that just sthraight up go talk to anyone.

And maybe Sal's friend group thought that shes propably a bitch, but like.

'She sat at our table?.....and didn't make fun of us?.....in fact she gives compliments that don't feel backhandead?......wtf?'

⬆️just an example, you can do whatever with this.

Sorry for possibile grammer errors or speeling mistakes, english isn't my first lenguage. Thank you and I hope you'll have a nice day ♥️

Hey! I THOUGHT THIS COULD BE SO CUTE!! so Ive seen many fics on this and i wanted to take a different approach. I hope you enjoy it. I love Sal and I hope this isn’t too crazy. I wrote a version yesterday and made everyone a little too mean and I don’t believe any of them would be assholes. So! Hopefully this satiates y’all.

masterlist

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ Your legs ache from practice, the soles of your sneakers sticking a little to the hallway tile with each step. You smell faintly of sweat and cherry body spray, the cheer uniform still clinging to your skin like it’s part of you now tight pleats, school colors, and all. You could’ve changed, sure, but exhaustion said no. So here you are, hair in a high ponytail, shoes untied, carrying a stack of junk mail and a single envelope that doesn’t belong to you.

You look at it again under the flickering hallway light, flipping it over in your fingers like it’ll magically reroute to the correct mailbox on its own.

SAL FISHER

UNIT 402

You know the name. Everyone at school does. The kid with the face cover. You’ve never spoken to him he doesn’t really hang around the same kind of people you do but he’s always there. At lunch, in the halls, sometimes sitting out near the tree line when no one else is around. You didn’t peg him as the chatty type.

You stare at the letter like it might bite you. Then sigh. “Why not be a good neighbor,” you mutter, dragging your legs toward the elevator.

The ride to the fourth floor feels longer than it should. It shudders a little on the way up. You keep your eyes on the numbers. Three… four. The doors open with a ding that sounds half hearted.

You’ve never actually been up here.

The fourth floor feels… worse. Everything smells faintly of dust and something like mothballs and metal. You don’t know why, but the lights here feel dimmer. You walk slower, steps echoing.

You find the unit: 402. You raise your hand to knock. There was a pause for a few seconds.

A man stands in front of you, tall, a little disheveled, and definitely not Sal. His presence is immediate, like he fills the space just by being in it. You blink.

“Oh hi! Sorry,” you start, holding the envelope out, “I was just dropping this off”

“He’s in his room,” the man says before you finish.

You freeze. “Oh, no, I wasn’t trying to bother him, I just thought I’d–”

“Just go on in. Down the hall, last door on the left.”

You blink again. You’re not even sure he’s looking at you. Just staring somewhere past your head, like he’s already decided this conversation is over.

“I mean, I could just leave it here”

“Last door on the left.”

He steps aside, just enough for you to enter. You do, but not on purpose. Your legs just move. You step into the apartment, and it’s… weird. Not gonna lie, being in any strangers apartment never really felt cool. You walk toward the hallway, clutching the letter, mind screaming at you to stop being so polite.

“Damn old people,” you think, jaw tightening. “I just wanted to drop something off, not go all this way”

The hallway feels longer than it is. The floor creaks behind you, or maybe above you. You don’t look back. You keep walking. Last door on the left.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ You knock lightly once, twice then pull your hand back like the door might burn you. A pause. Then the knob turns. The door creaks open slowly, revealing a familiar figure just behind it. Blue pigtails. The mask.

Sal Fisher.

He stares at you. You stare back. Neither of you says a word. And because silence is somehow gnawing at your neck, you blurt, “Hi! Um, I think our mail got mixed up I swear I didn’t just barge in.”

You thrust the letter forward like it’s a peace offering. “This was in my mailbox. For you. I thought I’d, y’know, be neighborly and return it. I didn’t open it or toss it or anything. Your dad sent me over this way”

He takes the envelope slowly, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. His gaze flicks down to it.

“Thanks,” he says. His voice is quieter than you expected. Almost gentle.

You nod. Then freeze. Then nod again. You’re still standing there, very much in his doorway, very much uninvited. His room is in full view behind him. Posters of metal bands you’ve only heard mentioned in passing. Skulls, red and black ink themes. A guitar in the corner. Tiny, vaguely creepy figurines lined up on a shelf.

“Your room’s so cool,” you say before your brain can stop you. You lean forward just a little, peering past him. “Seriously. This is like… Sid and Nancy level. How do you even find posters like that anymore? Oh my god is that an actual cassette player? That’s so sick.”

You wince as the words leave your mouth. “God, sorry, I’m not trying to be weird. I mean that in a good way. Promise.”

Your voice is speeding up. You’re spiraling. And you know it.

Sal just keeps watching you like he’s trying to figure out if this is real or a very strange dream. A cheerleader. In his doorway. Talking about cassette players. You finally cringe so hard your whole body folds in on itself.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, backing toward the hallway. “Sorry for the whole… I don’t know what that was. I was just trying to be a good neighbor and it turned into, like, a monologue of whatever the fuck.”

You turn halfway around to leave when you hear

“You wanna take a look around?”

You glance over your shoulder.

Sal is still standing there, holding the envelope like it might vanish. His posture is stiff, like he’s surprised the words came out of his mouth, too.

You blink. “I mean… sure?”

He nods. “If you’re into the posters, Do you dig that kind of music?.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well I wouldn’t say it’s exactly my style but I’m a all things can be redeemable if you give it a try”

He jerks his head toward the room. “why not give it a try then”

You’re already stepping inside before he finishes, smiling wide. “You had me at ‘cool’ and sealed the deal with ‘band.’ Show me.”

The second you cross the threshold, it’s like entering another world. The bland apartment hallway behind you disappears into a mess of amps, guitars, wires, dark posters, and the faint scent of incense and old vinyl.

Sal gestures toward a small desk setup with beat up speakers and a laptop. He grabs a pair of headphones well worn, slightly cracked along the band and offers them to you.

“You don’t have to pretend it’s good,” he mutters. “Honest opinion’s fine.”

You shoot him a thumbs up and take the headphones like they might unlock the secrets of the universe.

He clicks play.

The drums hit first loud, fast. Then comes the guitar: raw, rich, angry. A distorted voice cuts through the noise melodic under the layers of whatever was happening, but clawing to be heard. Your eyes go wide. You start bobbing your head slowly. Then more. A grin creeps up your face, shoulders bouncing slightly as the music crashes through your ears. You grip the headphones tighter, fully in it like you’ve been dropped into a private punk rock concert in a dream.

When the song fades, you pull the headphones off with a breathless laugh. “That was… so good,” you say, eyes lit up. “Like, very loud but in the best way. I felt like I could punch God in the face. I loved it.”

Sal’s ears what little you can see of them turn just slightly pink. He shifts, crossing his arms. “Yeah?”

You grin. “What, because I’m in a cheer uniform, you think cheerleaders don’t have rage?”

He laughs softly. It’s warm. Unexpected.

You glance at the clock and groan. “Ugh. I should probably head back and pretend I’m responsible or whatever. Homework calls.”

You hand the headphones back, your fingers lingering a second before letting go.

“Thanks for showing me that,” you say. “Seriously. its super sick.”

Sal shrugs, casual, but he still won’t quite meet your eyes. In his head, he’s screaming. Because what the hell. A cheerleader just walked into his room, complimented his taste in music, vibed to Sanity Falls, and then thanked him like he did her a favor.

Respectfully and he does mean that. you’re hot. this whole thing feels like a glitch in the matrix. Like someone else’s life. He clears his throat. “Yeah. Uh. Anytime.”

You flash one last smile before turning to leave. Sal Fisher stands frozen in his room, A pretty girl was in his room.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ the clatter of trays, bursts of laughter, the shriek of a chair scraping too hard against the linoleum. Sal sat across from Larry, Ash, and Todd, picking at the edges of his sandwich more than actually eating it. His thoughts weren’t really on food. Not when they kept drifting back to the night before.

Cheerleader. In his room. Pretty girl. She liked his music.

“Hey,” he said finally, pushing his tray forward and folding his arms on the table. “Do you guys know that new girl who lives on the third floor now?”

Larry paused mid bite, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Third floor?”

Ash glanced between them, already suspicious. “Wait. Are we talking about that new girl? Y/N something?”

“Yeah,” Sal said, tone casual like he wasn’t rehearsing the question all morning. “she dropped something off last night. Just wondering if you knew her.”

Larry barked a laugh. “The cheerleader? Yeah, she’s definitely one of those girls.”

Sal blinked. “Those?”

“You know,” Ash chimed in, leaning her chin on her hand. “Perfect hair. Always smells like a mall. Probably part of one of those fake bestie cliques that post about how much they loveee each other but secretly hate one another’s guts.”

Larry nodded, already back into his food. “Plastic. The kind that calls everyone ‘babe’ but doesn’t know your actual name.”

Todd, sipping from a thermos, finally looked up. “You guys don’t even know her.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “And you do?”

“I’ve had class with her. She’s… quiet,” Todd said thoughtfully. “Pays attention. Says thank you when someone passes her a worksheet. She helped a freshman with their locker on the second day.”

“That’s your bar for decency?” Larry said, skeptical.

“I’m just saying, you’re judging her and like Sal was new too once,” Todd said. “You don’t know anything real about her.”

Ash groaned. “You don’t need to know someone to know someone, Todd. Some people just radiate mean girl energy. Trust me.”

Todd narrowed his eyes. “That’s a shallow assumption and you know it.”

Ash muttered something about “cheerleaders being a plague” under her breath, and Larry snorted.

Sal, who had gone unusually quiet, finally spoke again. “She’s not like that.”

All three of them turned to look at him.

Larry’s mouth slowly curved into a smirk. “Wait. Hold up. Why are you asking about her, dude?”

Sal looked down, then up, tone clipped. “I told you. She dropped off mail. That’s it.”

Ash crossed her arms. “why did she just come all the way up to your place to give you a letter?”

Sal shrugged. “Her mailbox got mine by accident. then stayed for a bit”

Larry leaned forward, grinning. “What, did she get lost on the way out?”

Sal blinked. “She liked my music.”

Ash scoffed. “What, like out loud?”

Sal nodded. “Yeah. She tried my headphones. Even headbanged a little.”

Todd smiled slightly. “That’s kind of cool.”

Larry shook his head like he was witnessing a miracle. “Okay, wait a minute. A cheerleader, listened to screamo music, and didn’t run screaming for the suburbs?”

Sal shrugged again. “She said it made her want to punch God.”

Ash froze, lips parting in a mix of confusion and, for the first time, mild interest. “Okay… that’s actually kind of hardcore.”

“She said my room was cool,” Sal mumbled, mostly to his tray.

Larry threw his hands up. “Okay, what the hell, Sal. Are you telling me you Sal ‘I sit by myself and listen to death metal’ Fisher just casually had a cheerleader in your bedroom?”

Sal didn’t reply, but his fingers drummed on the table a little too fast to be casual. Larry leaned in. “Dude. You got a cheerleader in your room. Are you sure this wasn’t a dream? Like a fever dream after one too many gas station burritos?”

Todd tilted his head. “Or maybe… maybe she’s just a person. Like the rest of us. Who happens to like punk and be good at flips.”

Ash scowled. “God, Todd, you sound like a teacher.”

He shrugged. “Just saying.”

Larry still wasn’t over it. “Next thing you know she’s gonna show up in all black with eyeliner and join a band.”

Sal didn’t say it out loud, but a flicker of a smile played under the edge of his mask at the idea. He kinda liked that you were so different. the juxtaposition of your looks and what you seemed interested was very cool to look at.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ You strolled through the crowd with your cheer squad flanking both sides laughing, gossiping, spinning their hair around fingers like it was a competitive sport. You listened absently as one of them launched into a dramatic retelling of how her ex “accidentally” liked her finsta post at 2 a.m.

You weren’t really paying attention. Not because you didn’t care, though the first time she talked about it had you engaged. but because your eyes had already locked onto something else across the cafeteria. A short blue haired guy sitting at a table near the back with a group of kids you’d only ever heard about through whispered rumors and cruel nicknames.

There he was. Sal Fisher. without really thinking without asking yourself anything at all you broke away from your group mid laugh. Just veered straight toward him like your legs had made the decision before your brain did.

“Wait, where are you going?” one of your friends asked behind you.

“BRB,” you called over your shoulder. “I want to bother someone.”

Across the cafeteria, at a table meant for the misfits, Sal was in the middle of pushing peas around his tray when a sudden blur of cheer uniform and bounce came into view. He looked up.

You stopped right beside him and sat down immediately grabbing his arm, breathless and grinning. “Okay, so, I’ve been thinking about that song you showed me all night. Like, literally, I couldn’t sleep. I need more. You got a playlist? A mixtape? A USB drive from hell? Gimme.”

For one perfect, cinematic second, the entire table was silent. Larry dropped his fork. Ash’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. Todd blinked like you had just walked through a wall.

Sal just stared. “You… what?”

You nodded eagerly, lowering your voice like it was sacred. “You ruined all my playlists. I need more of that noise in my life.”

He blinked again. “You sure?”

“You say that like you thought I wouldn’t.”

“I–” Sal started, then stopped, looking absolutely stunned.

You turned to the rest of the table, realizing they were still staring at you like you’d just sprouted devil horns and declared yourself prom queen of hell. You raised a hand sheepishly. “Hi. Sorry for interrupting. I’m Y/N. just moved this year.”

Ash looked like she was physically holding herself back from combusting. Larry was still open mouthed, and Todd was watching with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for alien encounters.

“If you’re anything like Sal,” you added, offering them a genuine smile, “then I’m sure you’re all cool as hell.”

Larry looked to Sal, eyes wide. “Yeah, he’s crazy cool. Though he did learn from the best” Larry awkwardly replied while pointing himself

Ash leaned toward Todd. “I think i’m on drugs, what’s happening” Todd just smiled quietly.

You turned back to Sal, who was very much glitching out in real time. “I’ll give you my number later,” you said with a wink. “Text me a playlist. Or this time I’m breaking into your room.”

Sal opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded once like he was in shock. “Okay.” And then you were gone, skipping back to your friends, who were whispering furiously and shooting glances like you’d just fraternized with the enemy.

“what was that?” one of them hissed.

You smiled, tugging your ponytail higher.“you’re the one who told me to make friends here, thats all i’m doing.”

Back at the table, Sal stared down at his tray like it might give him answers.

Larry leaned in, whispering, “Bro. Are you a witch? Did you hex a cheerleader?”

Sal just shook his head.

“I think,” he said slowly, still stunned, “i think its jover for me.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ You weren’t quite sure how it happened. One second you were joking in the hallway with Sal about your shared hatred for lukewarm cafeteria pizza, and the next you were in his room, cross legged, spinning slowly on his desk chair while he nervously adjusted the volume on his old stereo system.

The room was quiet, save for the soft murmur of some obscure post punk band playing from the corner. You didn’t recognize the lyrics, but it felt like something you wanted to memorize.

“You know,” you said, glancing around, “I kinda expected more skulls. Or like… weird taxidermy?”

Sal laughed soft and surprised. “Yeah, you’re not the first to say that. I think Larry was disappointed when he first came over and didn’t find a Ouija board or something.”

You gave him a playful squint. “Wait, you don’t have one?”

Sal grinned slightly behind the mask. “Okay, I do. But it’s under my bed and mostly for decoration. Larry gets carried away.”

You hopped off the chair and crouched, peeking under the bed like you were on a mission. “You’re telling me there’s a haunted board game down here and you’re not showing me?”

“It’s not haunted,” he replied, clearly amused. “It’s just from a yard sale. Probably cursed with suburban angst at most.”

You laughed, brushing your fingers over a dusty shoebox. “Still cool. You’ve got good taste. I mean, look at this stuff.”

Posters of bands you’d never heard of were plastered across the walls, scribbled notebook pages taped in between like patchwork wallpaper. An old lava lamp flickered halfheartedly in the corner. There were stacks of CDs, cassette tapes, and one particularly weird clay sculpture that looked like it might’ve been made in a sleep deprived art class.

You plopped onto his bed and tilted your head. “This one’s my favorite,” you said, pointing at a crooked drawing of a girl with hollow eyes and messy hair. “She beautiful.”

Sal stepped closer, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “That was… something I did when I was like, thirteen. Supposed to be a ghost from this dream I had. I kept seeing her for weeks after.”

You looked at him, expression soft. “You see ghosts a lot?”

He hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Sometimes. Not all the time. But yeah.”

“Damn. That’s metal.”

Sal let out another laugh, more comfortable now. “That’s what I told my therapist.”

You leaned back on your elbows, smiling at him from his own bed like you’d done it a hundred times. “So, what else are you hiding in here? Secret dungeon? Portal to hell?”

“Uh,” Sal said, eyes glinting with something playful. “Larry stole all the portals to hell. I’m more of a secret music archive guy.”

You shot up. “Prove it.”

He smirked and crossed the room to a cabinet by his desk, pulling open a drawer to reveal a mess of burned CDs, USBs, old MP3 players, and one tiny cassette player with a sticker that said “Play if you hate the world.”

You gasped like he’d opened the Holy Grail. “Sal. This is the coolest shit I’ve ever seen. You better send me everything.”

He knelt beside you, pulling out a CD with careful fingers. “This one’s the first mix I ever made. It’s super rough.”

You took it from him reverently. “I love rough.”

Sal’s ears went pink. “I, uh, that came out weird.”

“Yeah,” you teased. “but cant a girl say how she feels.”

You glanced at him, and he was already watching you, like he couldn’t believe you actually said that. Like you’d disappear if he blinked too long.

“Hey,” you said, quieter now. “You’re kinda talkative tonight.”

He shrugged, brushing some hair from his face. “You’re easy to talk to.”

That made something flicker warm in your chest.

“Same,” you murmured. Then you nudged him with your shoulder. “Do you like me here?”

Sal tilted his head, mock serious. “People probably that I’ve summoned a demon cheerleader to possess me.”

You grinned. “Yeah? Hope they’re right.”

And he laughed again. You liked that sound. You wanted to hear it more.

You and Sal stayed like that for a while, just talking. The kind of conversation that meandered and curved around strange facts and half finished thoughts. He told you about a ghost that used to knock on his closet door when he was little. You told him about the time you accidentally summoned a raccoon with a ritual you found on Tumblr. Somewhere between laughter and another CD recommendation, you spotted a small, beat up notebook tucked between the mattress and wall. It looked old, like something with secrets.

“Ooooh, what’s that?” you asked, already reclining across the bed to reach it.

Sal looked up, immediately alert. “Wait no, that’s!”

Too late. You stretched out, reaching over him as he sat back against the headboard. Your fingers brushed the edge of the notebook only for your balance to shift, the mattress dipping under your weight.

Thump.

You landed right on top of him. For a moment, neither of you moved. You were nose to nose, your chest pressed against his, hands awkwardly splayed on either side of his shoulders. His mask had tilted slightly, and you could see just a glimpse of the scar beneath it before he quickly adjusted it. His breath hitched so did yours.

Your eyes met.

Sal’s eyes were wide, pupils flicking between yours like he was scanning for some kind of signal. You suddenly became very aware of the warmth radiating off him. Of the way your knee was pressing slightly between his legs. The room, the music, the whole world had gone still.

“Uh,” he said softly, like he was trying not to spook you.

You blinked. “Sorry. Um. .”

“it’s okay,” he said, voice an octave higher than usual. “Totally. You’re all good trust. Yeah.”

You were about to say something maybe a joke, maybe not when the door slammed open with the force of someone who had never knocked in his entire life.

“Yo, Sal HOLY SHIT”

You scrambled off like you’d been hit with a taser, rolling off to the side and nearly falling off the bed. Sal sat bolt upright, stiff as a corpse.

Larry stood in the doorway, a soda can in one hand and a box of cookies in the other, blinking like he was trying to make sure what he was seeing wasn’t a hallucination.

“Dude,” he said, utterly stunned. “Did I interrupt something?”

Sal buried his face in both hands with a groan. “Larry.”

“No, because this is like… well im not going to say. You’re on the bed, she’s on top of you, the music’s playing do you guys want me to turn the lights down? Light a candle or something?”

You threw a pillow at him.

Larry dodged it “I can come back later. Like, waaay later.”

“You weren’t even supposed to come now,” Sal hissed, his voice muffled behind his hands.

Larry grinned. “I felt a disturbance in the force.”

You sat up and crossed your legs, trying to fix your hair and your dignity. “Hey Larry, how’s it going?.”

Larry raised his brows and backed toward the hallway with exaggerated steps. “I meet you once and you’re already over my man right here”

And then he was gone, disappearing down the hall with the sound of crinkling cookie packaging trailing behind him. Sal finally peeked up at you, his face still a little flushed. “…Im sorry about that.”

You smiled, brushing your hair back. “Im not too worried, He seems like a nice guy.”

Sal blinked, then laughed “I think I like having you around,” he murmured, almost too quiet to catch.

You grinned, nudging his knee with yours. “Then send me that damn playlist before I tackle you again.”

“…Not the worst threat I’ve heard,” he replied.

And the music played on.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆You sat criss cross on the grass with your cheerleader friends, your lunch mostly forgotten as you braided strands of your best friend’s hair while another girl animatedly recounted some drama from first period.

“…and then he said, ‘It’s not cheating if we were on a break!’” she shrieked, clutching her phone like it was sacred.

Everyone groaned, gasped, or fake fainted in synchronized horror.

You laughed, tossing a piece of grass in her direction. “He used the Friends defense? God, we need to start handing out red flags on flashcards.”

You were comfortable here. It was loud, messy, dramatic but it was yours. And they loved you because you weren’t just part of the cheer squad, or the new girl, but because you talked to the theater kids, the band nerds, the weird guy in the dinosaur hoodie. You didn’t care about cliques. You liked people. People were weird and interesting.

Eventually the bell rang and everyone stood, gathering their things in a flurry of hair and perfume.

“I’ll see you after school!” someone called. You waved, backing away toward the building with your backpack swinging behind you.

And that’s when you heard it. “Pick it up, you little freak. Or do you need your mommy to do it for you?”

You rounded the corner and froze. A smaller kid, maybe a freshman, was scrambling to pick up their books, hands shaking as a taller guy stood over him. Shaggy hair,, fists clenched like he wanted someone to look. A few papers blew past your feet. You didn’t step in. You knew better. You weren’t built like that couldn’t throw a punch or bark louder than a threat. And you knew the look of someone who’d use that.

But still… once the kid grabbed his stuff and scurried off like a spooked rabbit, you found your voice.

“Hey.”

The guy turned to you, annoyance etched into every line of his face. “What?”

You took a slow breath and tilted your head. “What’s your problem?”

He blinked, like you’d just asked him the square root of an existential crisis. “You wanna go?” he said, stepping toward you with all the bravado of someone who’d been fighting shadows his whole life.

You didn’t flinch. Just crossed your arms and stared. “You seriously pick fights with kids who can’t fight back? What, did your cereal bully you this morning?”

That got him. Just a flicker but it was there. A crack in the tough guy mask. He scoffed. “Don’t act like you know me.”

“I don’t,” you said honestly. “But I know whatever that was back there? Thats fucked, stop being a dick and maybe your mommy would do something about it.” His jaw flexed like he was holding back a hundred things he didn’t know how to say. “I’m not scared of you,” you added softly. “But you being a dick is pointless.”

He stared at you for a long time. Long enough that it should’ve felt uncomfortable. But instead, it felt… tense. Not dangerous. Just tight. Like something holding its breath.

Then, just before turning, he muttered, “Tch. Whatever.”

You watched him go, the anger in his steps still there but dulled, somehow. Like your words had wedged into the gears of whatever rage machine he operated on. You found out later from someone in gym class that his name was Travis. Just Travis. No one knew his last name, just that he was trouble, had a rep, and probably didn’t have many people who called him anything else.

Ash had seen it.

She’d been leaning against the side of the vending machines, chewing on the straw of her empty smoothie cup, eyes darting around the quad like they always did. She wasn’t looking for drama, not really, but if it stumbled into her path, she sure as hell wasn’t going to ignore it.

She watched the whole thing Travis towering, spitting venom, and you standing there, not brave enough to throw hands, but bold enough to ask why. Not backing down. Not even flinching.

When he walked off, still pissed but quieter somehow, she tossed her smoothie into the bin and strolled over like she wasn’t deliberately inserting herself.

“What was that?” she asked, casually, like she’d just seen you pet a lion.

You turned, slinging your backpack higher on your shoulder. “What was what?”

Ash raised a brow. “With Travis. You said something. He didn’t hit you. That’s basically a miracle.”

You shrugged, still feeling the adrenaline buzz in your ribs. “I don’t know. Just… couldn’t walk past it.”

Ash snorted. “People walk past him all the time. He’s an ass. A racist, sexist, homophobic caveman with fists for brains. Trust me, most people are glad to stay out of his way.”

You chewed your lip. “Yeah. I guess. I just. I don’t know. People who are assholes need someone to speak up.”

She tilted her head, considering that for a beat. “You ever get into fights?”

“God, no,” you said quickly. “I’d die.”

Ash smirked. “That checks out. Still, you didn’t run. Didn’t go fake sweet or start crying to a teacher. You just… confronted him. That was kind of bold of you new girl.”

“Thanks?” you offered, unsure.

She walked with you now, matching your steps as you made your way down the hall. It was quiet, the rush between lunch and next period tapering off.

Ash glanced sideways at you. “Y’know, I pegged you as another one of them.”

You didn’t need to ask who them was. You’d seen the way she looked at your cheer friends. Glitter and high ponies didn’t mix with combat boots and smudged eyeliner.

You smiled softly, still looking ahead. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”

She didn’t say anything for a second. Then: “Turns out you’ve got more bite than you let on.”

You turned to her, surprised. “You saying that like it’s a good thing.”

Ash shrugged. “Might be.”

That was it. No over explanation. No emotional dive into friendship territory. Just the Ashley Campbell version of a peace offering. She didn’t invite you to hang out or trade numbers. She didn’t ask personal questions or gush. But the next time she saw you in the hall, she nodded at you instead of looking through you.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ The bell had just rung, and the hallways were alive people yelling across rows of lockers, someone dropping a textbook with a dramatic slam, and the smell of cafeteria pizza already creeping in. You scanned the crowd like a bloodhound on a mission.

Sal Fisher. Quietly standing near the usual corner with Larry, Todd, and Ash. He had his hands in his pockets, head tilted as Todd went off about some new theory, probably ghosts or government tech. Ash was chewing on a straw and nodding vaguely, while Larry interrupted every other word with “Nah, but listen what if?”

You didn’t even think twice.

“Hey!” you called, bounding over like a cartoon character with too much energy and absolutely no sense of personal space. “There you are, Blue.”

Sal looked up right as you reached him. “Blue?”

“You’re wearing blue,” you said, pointing at him. “And your hair’s blue. You’re very committed to the aesthetic.”

He tilted his head. “I wear black more than anything.”

“Technicalities,” you said, grabbing his sleeve. “Come on. We’re doing something.”

Larry raised a brow. “Is this a kidnapping?”

“Definitely,” Ash answered flatly.

“Wait, what are we doing?” Sal asked, laughing under his breath as you pulled him gently away from the group. “Do I get a say in this?”

“You get to walk or be dragged, your call.”

“That doesn’t feel like much of a choice,” he muttered, but he let you lead him anyway.

“Where are you taking him this time?” Todd called out with actual concern.

“To the moon,” you replied without turning around. “Or maybe just the vending machines. We’ll see.”

Ash cupped her hands around her mouth. “Bring him back in one piece!”

Larry shouted after, “AND IF HE COMES BACK MARRIED IM ATTACKING YOU FOR NOT LETTING ME BE BEST MAN!”

You groaned and shot them a look over your shoulder. “Y’all are so dramatic.”

“We’re dramatic?” Ash asked, gesturing wildly. “You swooped in like a caffeinated falcon and stole our boy mid convo!”

Sal laughed beside you, his eyes squinting just slightly with amusement behind the mask. “You kinda did.”

“Okay, but be honest,” you said, bumping your shoulder into his. “You weren’t even really paying attention to Larry’s alien rant.”

“…It was about space cats this time.”

“See? I’m rescuing you.”

He chuckled again, a little softer this time. “Then thanks, I guess. You know, I’ve started looking forward to these.”

You slowed your pace, peeking at him from the side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, a bit bashful now. “You’re crazy and I am definitely living for it.”

Your smile tugged wider, warmth blooming in your chest. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You need better friends,” he teased.

“I have you,” you shot back.

And that quiet moment hung between you both for just a second comfortable, kind of sweet, a little electric.

Back at the hallway corner, the trio watched you both disappear down the hall. Ash crossed her arms, a curious look on her face. “Im glad to have found out she’s not just some glitter clone.”

“Nope,” Larry agreed. “She’s cool. Like, actually so cool.”

Todd smiled faintly. “And Sal likes her. That much is obvious.”

Ash gave a small nod, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “Yeah. He really does.” for once, none of them said anything snarky.

Sero Hanta | Cellophane X reader

𖤐⭑Pro Hero- SpiderMan 𖤐⭑

i spent so much of my youth loving this man only to live with the fact that bro is unloved by this fandom.

masterlist

HES SPIDERMAN OH MY GOD IS THAT SPIDERMAN

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑ You were sprawled out on his bed, arms stretched over your head as you stared at the ceiling. Sero, on the other hand, was sitting on the floor beside the bed, his back leaned up against it. His head was tilted just enough that it was right beside yours, close enough that if you turned your head, you’d practically be nose to nose. It was a little funny, actually kind of like one of those upside down SpiderMan moments.

“Man, I am so glad we don’t have any training tomorrow,” Sero sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “I swear, if Aizawa had us do one more combat drill, I was gonna collapse on the spot.”

You hummed in agreement, lazily tilting your head to glance at him. “I thibk that guy has it out for us. Training us is cool and all but I think hed rather punch us all out and then bring eri to get sweets.”

Sero snorted, shooting you a grin. “Okay, true. but if I was him I would also do that too. Its been what? 2 years since her bring here and shes still adorable”

You rolled onto your side slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him only to realize just how close your faces were. He blinked at you, mouth parting slightly in surprise before you smirked.

“Hey,you know spiderman? for that matter do you know that one scene,” you mused. “You know, the upside down kiss?”

Sero’s eyes widened slightly before he let out a short laugh. “what exactly are you plotting?”

You grinned, an idea forming in your head. “You should totally try it for real. Use your quirk, stick yourself to the ceiling, and we’ll reenact it.”

For a moment, Sero just stared at you. Then, as the realization of what you were suggesting fully hit him, his entire face turned red.

“¡WAIT pause for a a whole second and backtrack the hell out of that! You actually want me to?! No way, no way! That’s a whole different kind (y/n) dont play with me right now!”

You burst out laughing as he scrambled, hands flailing slightly as if trying to physically push the idea away. His mind was clearly short circuiting at the thought of suspending himself from the ceiling just for a kiss even as a joke.

“C’mon, Sero,” you teased, grinning. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little commitment?”

“I’m not scared of commitment!” he shot back, still very visibly flustered. “I’m scared of falling on my face! You think I got the core strength to hold myself upside down long enough for a kiss?”

You snickered, propping yourself up on your elbows. “You are a hero in training. I feel like i’ve seen you do this all the time”

Sero groaned, dragging a hand down his face before shooting you a look. “Are you absolutely sure about this?.”

“Absolutely,” you admitted without shame.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. but if I fall and break my nose, you’re paying my hospital bills.”

“Deal,” you grinned.

With a dramatic sigh, Sero lifted his elbow and shot a strip of tape toward the ceiling, securing it before testing its strength. He muttered something about how this was so not how he expected his night to go before taking a deep breath and pulling himself up.

It took all of five seconds for him to lose his grip and come crashing back down onto his bed with a loud, “¡Mierda!”

You barely managed to roll out of the way before he landed half on the mattress which also mean falling half on you, half on the floor, groaning into the sheets. You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe.

“You good, Spider Man?” you wheezed.

“Never ever making that mistake again,” he groaned.

“Aw, but we didn’t even get to the best part.”

Sero cracked one eye open to glare at you. “If you wanna do the upside down kiss so bad, you hang from the ceiling next time.”

You grinned down at him, your faces just inches apart again. “Oh, But i don’t have the quirk for that. You’re the perfect hero for this duty”

Sero sighed dramatically, but you could see the small smile tugging at his lips. “youre testing me lady.”

“And yet, you keep inviting me over,” you shot back.

He chuckled, shaking his head before flopping fully onto his back. “Yeah, yeah. Remind me to never talk to you again.”

“Never letting that happen,” you said, still grinning.

Sero just groaned again, throwing an arm over his face as you laughed. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head before propping himself up on his elbows. “You know,” he said, giving you a slow, lazy smirk, “if you wanted to kiss me so bad, you could just do it now instead of trying to send me to the ER.”

Your laughter died instantly.

Your brain screeched to a halt, the words processing at a glacial pace. You blinked at him, expecting some kind of follow up maybe a laugh, maybe a “gotcha” to tell you he was just messing with you. But no. Sero just stayed there, eyebrows slightly raised, clearly waiting for a response.

Heat rushed to your face so fast it made you dizzy. “I what ?”

He tilted his head, still smirking, but you could tell by the way his fingers twitched against the sheets that he wasn’t as casual as he was pretending to be. “I mean, since you went through all that trouble, might as well, right?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess. It was a joke, right? RIGHT? He was testing you, trying to fluster you. but two could play at that game.

Your heart pounded as you took a deep breath, then muttered, “Fuck it.”

Before he could react, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his.

The moment they touched, you felt Sero tense beneath you, his breath hitching in surprise. But he didn’t pull away. In fact, after a second, you felt him relax, his hand hovering near your waist as if debating whether or not to grab onto you.

The kiss wasn’t perfect, there was still laughter in your chest, and you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin like he was just as thrown off as you but it was good. It was Sero. Playful, teasing, and real.

When you finally pulled away, you barely had time to process the look on his face before he let out a stunned laugh. “Okay whoa. Didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

You shrugged, pretending your pulse wasn’t going a mile a minute. “You challenged me. What was I supposed to do? Back down?”

He shook his head, grinning wide. “Damn. if I dared you to kiss me until I cant think would that make something happen?”

You smirked, leaning back on your elbows. “hmm i think that would be abusing the rules.”

Sero just huffed out another laugh, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing back at you, his expression softer now. “you’re a weird person. ill just use your words next time.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could ask what exactly he meant by that, he stretched out with a lazy yawn, as if he hadn’t just said something that sent your brain spiraling.

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically. “Let’s pretend I didn’t just embarrass myself and move on.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you flopped back onto the bed. “yeah id rather not relive you falling on me. I still feel sore”

Sero groaned. “Im sorry but thats your fault for proposing it.”

But when you snuck a glance at him, you caught the way he was still grinning to himself, the tips of his ears burning red.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

The tall black haired guy dropped onto the couch, arms spread wide like he had just survived the most harrowing mission of his life. Across from him, Mina and Denki were sprawled out in their usual morning slump, nursing their cups of coffee like lifelines.

It was too early for homework, too late to still be asleep, and just the right time for the juiciest gossip of the day.

And Sero had the juice.

“You guys,” he started, grinning like a fool, “I think I just had the greatest night of my life.”

Mina looked up from her coffee. Identical to a beggar on the street. No sparkle in her eyes at all.

Denki blinked blearily, rubbing his eyes. “Bro, it is too early for you to be tryna make fancy entrances What happened?”

Sero leaned forward, elbows on his knees, barely able to contain himself. “Okay, so you know how I was hanging out with Y/n last night”

“Y/n?” Mina echoed, eyes wide. “As in, Y/n her?”

“Her her,” Sero confirmed with a nod.

Denki sucked in a sharp breath. “Hoe we only have one Y/n in our class. I dont know what shit youre on.”

And then, before he could even react

Mina’s body moved on instinct. She swung an arm out blindly, her half asleep brain barely processing what she was doing, and smacked Denki square in the face.

Hard.

The sound echoed through the quiet common room like a gunshot.

Denki let out a choked noise of betrayal as he recoiled, nearly spilling his coffee all over himself. “What the hell, Mina?!”

Mina blinked slowly, still not fully registering reality. She glanced at her hand, then at Denki, frowning as if confused as to how he got there. “…Huh?”

Denki clutched his nose, eyes watering. “You hit me!”

Mina took another sip of coffee, completely unbothered. “…Did I?”

Denki groaned, dramatically slumping back against the couch. “This is abuse. I’m pressing charges.”

Mina squinted at Denki like she was still buffering. “Oh.” Beat. “Well, you’ll live.”

Sero was practically crying from laughter at this point. “Okay, but back to what actually matters Y/n.”

“Hanta… if you don’t start making sense in the next five seconds, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Hush now!” Sero grinned, practically vibrating in his seat. “So we’re chilling in my room, right? She’s lying on my bed, I’m on the floor next to her”

“Okay, okay, set the scene,” Mina said, waving her hands. “What was the vibe?”

“Vibe was immaculate,” Sero said, dead serious. “We were laughing, teasing each other, you know, the usual. And then she brings up the SpiderMan kiss.”

Mina gasped. “dude thats so lame and so cute .”

Denki’s eyes widened. “Dude. No way.”

“YES WAY,” Sero insisted. “She straight up suggests I tape myself to the ceiling and do the whole upside down thing.”

Denki immediately lost it, nearly spilling his coffee as he doubled over in laughter. “Bro. why cant women that i like suggest stupid shit like that to kiss me”

Mina was gripping the armrest, practically bouncing. “DID YOU DO IT?”

Sero groaned, rubbing his face. “I tried! And then I failed spectacularly! Fell right on the bed”

Denki wheezed. “My guy, you are so lucky you didn’t break your face.”

“Right?!” Sero laughed, shaking his head. “But get this, when I fell, I was joking like, ‘If you wanted to kiss me so bad, just do it now,’ you know, just messing with her.”

Mina’s eyes were about to pop out of her head. “AND???”

Denki was practically on the edge of his seat. “BRO, SHE DIDN’T.”

Sero ran a hand through his hair, grinning like a madman. “She did.”

Mina let out a shriek, grabbing a couch pillow and whacking Denki with it. “OH MY GOD!”

Denki was clutching his pearls like he had just been personally attacked. “Bro, bro, you actually kissed her?!”

Sero nodded, still riding the high of last night. “Well, technically, she kissed me, but yeah.”

Mina was absolutely losing it. “This is huge! Do you even realize what this means?”

“That I am the luckiest man alive?” Sero offered, waggling his eyebrows.

Denki pointed at him. “Absolutely not, you just admitted to eating carpet trying to be SpiderMan.”

Sero groaned, “i fell on my bed you dunce”

Mina grabbed his arm, shaking him slightly. “But, like, what now? Are you guys together?”

Sero’s grin faltered for a second, his brain scrambling. “Uh… I dunno? I mean, it was kinda sudden, so we didn’t talk about it yet.”

Denki let out a long, exaggerated sigh, flopping backward. “Damn. I am so proud of you, bro. But at the same time, I have never felt more single in my life.”

Mina cackled. “Denki, you are always single.”

“Yeah, but now it hurts,” Denki whined dramatically, covering his face. “All my bros are getting action and I’m over here third wheeling by myself.”

Sero rolled his eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “Dude, you can’t third wheel by yourself.”

Denki groaned. “Watch me.”

Mina sighed, shaking her head. “Denki, we gotta get you a girlfriend.”

Denki flopped onto the couch like a sad fish. “you act as if i haven’t tried”

Sero laughed, standing up and stretching. “Alright, you two losers, I gotta figure out what the hell I’m doing next. Wish me luck.”

Mina beamed. “You better keep us updated!”

Denki sat up slightly, pointing at Sero. “If you don’t make this official, I swear to God, I will actually fight you.”

Sero chuckled, giving them a lazy salute before heading toward the exit. Now all he had to do was figure out how to not mess this up. As soon as Sero stepped out of the common room, his grin dropped, and his brain immediately went into overdrive.

Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Oh, crap.

He had kissed you. Or you had kissed him. Either way, there was definite mouth on mouth action, and now he had no idea what to do with himself.

His heart was still doing that stupid, rapid fire drumming in his chest every time he replayed the moment in his head. The way you had leaned in, eyes half lidded, expression unreadable until suddenly boom. Lips. Soft. Warm. Perfect. He could still feel the ghost of it lingering on his mouth.

Sero ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Okay, get it together, man. It’s just a kiss. A really good kiss. A potentially life changing kiss, but still just a kiss.

He needed a game plan.

But what if you regretted it? What if it was just a heat of the moment thing for you? What if you woke up this morning thinking, Wow, that was a mistake, better pretend it never happened?

Sero groaned under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. He couldn’t deal with that possibility. Not when he had spent an entire night internally combusting over how amazing it had felt.

“Dude, you good?”

Sero nearly jumped out of his skin as Kirishima appeared beside him, eyebrow raised.

“Wh yeah! Yeah, totally,” Sero replied way too fast, forcing a laugh. “Just, y’know… thinking.”

Kirishima gave him a knowing smirk. “About a certain girl in our class?”

Sero pointed at him. “i feel likenim not that obvious. I just left mina how did you you already know about this?”

Kirishima laughed, clapping him on the back. “Since our first year youve been obsessed with her.”

“stop spreading lies.” Sero sighed dramatically before groaning. “Dude, I don’t know what to do. I mean, I know I want to do something, but what if she doesn’t”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Kirishima said, holding up a hand. “First of all, did she seem into it when she kissed you?”

Sero opened his mouth, then hesitated, brain flashing back to the way you had looked at him, the way you had smiled after like you meant it.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kirishima grinned. “Then you’re already halfway there, man. Just talk to her.”

Sero groaned again. “Why is that the hardest part?!”

Kirishima just laughed, shaking his head. “Because you like her, dude. Now quit freaking out and go see her.”

Easier said than done.

But standing around panicking wasn’t going to help, either.

So, with a deep breath, Sero nodded. “Alright. I’m doing this.”

Kirishima gave him a thumbs up. “That’s the spirit! Now go get your girl.”

Sero immediately turned around and walked straight into a doorframe.

Kirishima winced. “…Maybe start by watching where you’re going first.”

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

you showed up, red faced and flustered, practically vibrating with leftover emotions from last night.

“I kissed him,” you blurted, gripping the sides of your head. “I we kissed! Oh my god, I actually did that.”

“Wait, wait, wait hold on,” Kirishima said, holding up his hands like he needed to physically stop you from overwhelming yourself. With his previous conversation with sero, It was so obvious how much you both liked each other. Very adorable type shit. His red eyes were wide with excitement. “You kissed Sero? Like, for real?”

“Yes! No wait, yes, but ugh, I don’t even know how it happened”

“You just said you kissed him, dumbass,” Bakugo cut in, scowling as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Make up your damn mind.”

You shot him a glare, feeling the heat rush to your face again. “I know what I said, but it happened so fast! He was being all smug, and then I said ‘fuck it’ and did it but then he just looked at me, and I think my soul left my body”

Kirishima gasped. “Dude.”

“Shut up,” Bakugo groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re talking in circles.”

“But it was so sudden! I wasn’t thinking!” you continued, waving your hands around. “And now I don’t even know what we are! Are we together? Are we not? I left before we could even talk about it was that dumb?!”

“Yes,” Bakugo deadpanned.

“No,” Kirishima said at the same time, sending Bakugo a disapproving look before turning back to you. “Look, you’re clearly freaking out, but this is great news! You guys finally kissed! That’s huge!”

“Yeah, yeah, good for you,” Bakugo muttered. “Now shut the hell up about it.”

You shot him an incredulous look. “Excuse you?”

“You’re acting like a damn extra,” he snapped. “Freaking out over one kiss? You sound stupid.”

Your jaw dropped. “One kiss?! Bakugo, do you know how big of a deal this is?! This could change everything!”

“Then man up and deal with it!”

Your eye twitched. “youre such a dick, did you not learn manners or did your prissy rich boy ass never learn discipline!”

Bakugo’s face immediately darkened. “Oh, you little!”

Before you could even process what was happening, he lunged at you.

The next thing anyone knew, the peaceful morning atmosphere of the dorms was shattered as the two of you started brawling in the middle of the hallway.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Kirishima shouted, hands on his head. “IT IS TOO EARLY FOR THIS!”

You ducked as Bakugo swung at you, his explosive palms barely missing your shoulder. “YOU WANNA GO, SPARKLER? LET’S GO!”

“I’M ALREADY GOING!” Bakugo snarled, throwing another punch.

Students peeked out of their dorm rooms, most of them sighing as if this was the least surprising thing to wake up to.

“Guys!” Kirishima tried again, stepping between you two. “This is not how we handle our emotions!”

“I’LL SHOW YOU HOW I HANDLE EMOTIONS!” you snapped, dodging to the side and attempting to kick Bakugo’s leg out from under him.

He jumped back, grinning like a maniac. “Ohhh, you’re dead now!”

“CAN WE PLEASE HAVE ONE NORMAL MORNING?!” Kirishima begged.

The answer was clearly no, because by then, you and Bakugo were full on wrestling in the hallway, ignoring the way half of Class was now watching with varying levels of amusement.

Kirishima sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before clapping his hands together. “Okay. Fine. You guys are definitely gonna work this out”

“BY ME KICKING HER ASS”

“LIKE MATURE ADULTS,” Kirishima finished, dragging both of you apart with his insane strength. “Now, breathe. Both of you.”

Bakugo huffed, still glaring at you. You glared right back.

“Good,” Kirishima said, nodding. “Now, let’s try again calmly. You, tell Bakugo why you’re freaking out.”

You crossed your arms. “Because I kissed Sero, and now I don’t know what to do!”

Kirishima gave Bakugo a look. “And you how would you calmly respond to that?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes but sighed heavily. “Man up and talk to him, dumbass.”

Your eye twitched again, but Kirishima shot you a warning look before you could lunge at him again.

“Okay!” Kirishima said, clapping his hands. “Progress!”

You huffed, finally stepping back. “Fine. Maybe I will talk to him.”

“Yeah, do that instead of screaming about it like a moron,” Bakugo muttered, rubbing his knuckles.

Kirishima let out a long suffering sigh but patted your shoulder encouragingly. “Hey, at least you got your first kiss, right? That’s awesome!”

You exhaled sharply, your frustration fading just a little. “…Yeah. I guess it was kind of awesome.”

Kirishima beamed. “See? Now go figure out what’s next!”

You nodded, turning to leave only for Bakugo to call out, “And next time, don’t start yelling at me at seven in the damn morning!”

You flipped him off over your shoulder. “BITE ME, BAKUGO.”

“WITH PLEASURE,” he yelled back.

Kirishima groaned. “Why are you guys like this?!”

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

Sero had never felt more like a dumbass in his life.

He was pacing the dorm hallway, chewing on his lip, hands in his hair like that would somehow help his brain work better.

What the hell was he supposed to do?!

He’d talked a big game in the common room, but the second he was alone, reality hit him like a truck. The kiss had happened. You had kissed him. And now, every time he thought about it, his heart did this stupid, erratic thing, and his stomach felt like it was flipping over itself.

He wanted to talk to you. He needed to talk to you. But what if you were freaking out? What if you regretted it?

“Sero!”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Kirishima’s voice called out to him.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Kirishima asked, raising an eyebrow as he walked up.

Sero immediately tried to play it cool, leaning against the wall like he wasn’t just spiraling five seconds ago. “Oh, y’know. Just… getting some fresh air.”

Kirishima gave him a deadpan look. “We’re inside.”

Sero groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, fine! I don’t know what to do, man!”

Kirishima clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. “So, I might have just talked to her.”

Sero’s entire body went rigid. “You what?”

“Relax, bro, she doesn’t know we’re talking.” Kirishima laughed at the absolute panic on his face. “But I do know she’s freaking out just as much as you are.”

Sero blinked. “…She is?”

“Dude, yes.” Kirishima squeezed his shoulder. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you what she said, but I will say this be a man and talk to her.”

Sero groaned again. “Why is everyone saying that?! I know I need to talk to her, but what if I say the wrong thing?”

“Then you say the wrong thing,” Kirishima shrugged. “But at least you’re saying something.”

Sero exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Damn right I’m right.” Kirishima grinned, patting his back. “Now go before you start spiraling again.”

Sero rolled his eyes but grinned anyway. “Thanks, man.”

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

you dramatically leaned back on the couch, arms spread wide, and declared, “Hawks is so fine, it’s actually unfair.”

Across from you, Ochako snorted into her drink while Iida sighed, rubbing his temples as if he could physically remove himself from this conversation. Deku, on the other hand, just looked mildly distressed.

“Again with this?” Iida groaned. “How many times must we discuss your questionable taste in Pro Heroes?”

The U.A. dorm lounge was a place of peace, a sanctuary for students to unwind after long days of training and classes. Though you cant help but say your thoughts in such a safe place.

“Uh, first of all,” you said, pointing at him, “there’s nothing questionable about it. Hawks is objectively hot. Everyone knows it.”

Deku cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean… I guess I can see why people think he’s cool, but”

“C’mon, Deku,” you said, exasperated. “you’ve worked with him before AND you cant tell me that you didn’t even get a little nervous It’s giving angelic bad boy, i just need a day with him really ”

Ochako giggled. “You sound so gross. but i cant say youre not wrong”

“EXACTLY ,” you srespond. “But wait, there’s more! Present Mic? That man could ruin my eardrums, and I’d thank him.”

Iida choked on his tea, while Deku’s face scrunched up like he was in actual pain. “You live with him,” Deku pointed out. “Doesn’t that make it weird?”

“Absolutely not,” you said. “That just means I know exactly how amazing he is.”

Ochako bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Anyone else?”

“Glad you asked,” you said, grinning. “All Might.”

That was it. That was the breaking point.

All three of them stared at you. No words. Just judgment.

“What?” you said, looking between their horrified expressions.

Ochako covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. Iida, for once in his life, was speechless. And Deku? Deku looked like you had just personally offended him.

“Y you” Deku struggled to form words. “All Might?!”

You raised a brow. “And? He’s All Might. He’s strong, noble, heroic”

“He’s, like, 50!” Deku cried.

“Yeah, but have you seen young All Might?” You wiggled your eyebrows. “Tall, blonde, muscles for days? C’mon.”

Deku looked two seconds away from passing out. “I I can’t I don’t even”

Iida took a deep breath, composing himself before adjusting his glasses. “Y/N, while I respect your right to admire heroes, I must say, your choices are…bewildering.”

“Ohhh, bewildering, huh?” You narrowed your eyes. “That’s real rich coming from you, Iida. And you too, Deku!” You pointed at him accusingly. “You have All Might all over your room! Posters, figures you probably have All Might bedsheets!”

Deku turned bright red. “Th that’s different! It’s admiration!”

“And what I feel isn’t?” You smirked. “Sounds like projection.”

Ochako lost it, cackling as Deku sputtered, desperately trying to defend himself. Iida just sighed heavily, shaking his head.

What none of you knew, however, was that three other students were eavesdropping from around the corner.

Mina, Denki, and Sero were crouched behind the lounge entrance, trying (and failing) to hold in their laughter.

“Oh my god,” Mina whispered. “she makes me so proud, ive rubbed off on her so well.”

Denki wiped away a fake tear. “That was beautiful.”

Sero, meanwhile, his head tilted slightly as he listened. “Man,” he muttered, shaking his head, “she’s really out here confessing her love for only blonde heroes, huh?”

Denki snorted. “Right?” He nudged Sero with his elbow. “Sorry, bro, but it looks like you gotta join the blonde side.”

Sero rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, because that’s totally my biggest issue right now.”

Mina gasped dramatically. “Wait. Wait. What if we bleach your hair?”

“No.”

“Just a few streaks!”

“Absolutely not.”

Denki cackled. “Come on, man! It’s for the greater good!”

Sero groaned, rubbing his temples. “You guys are actually the worst.”

As the laughter from the lounge carried down the hall, Sero found himself stepping away from Mina and Denki, his grin faltering just a little as he leaned against the wall.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He let out a heavy breath, knocking the back of his head against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t like he hadn’t liked you for a while now he had. God, he had. But actually doing something about it? That was a whole different beast.

It should be easy. You two were already close, always teasing each other, always hanging out. It wasn’t like he’d never flirted before but this was you. It actually mattered this time. And after that kiss? His brain had officially checked out.

He dragged a hand down his face. “Alright. Think, dude. You’re not gonna go full Denki and make a dumbass move.”

Sero groaned, running both hands through his hair before letting them drop to his sides. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and he hated that it was just from the idea of telling you how he felt. He could fight villains, handle training, and deal with Bakugo’s explosive bullshit on a daily basis but this? This was terrifying.

Still, he had to do it. Kirishima was right. He had to man up and talk to you.

Pushing off the wall, he took a deep breath and nodded to himself.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Here goes nothing.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, heading toward the lounge toward you.

Sero had faced some pretty wild situations in his life.

He had been launched across training fields, nearly crushed by Todoroki’s ice, and once once had the unfortunate experience of getting his tape tangled with Kaminari’s electrical wires during a particularly chaotic mission.

But none of those moments compared to the sheer whiplash of what happened the second he stepped into the common room.

One second, he was approaching you, running through every possible way to casually bring up the fact that he really, really liked you.

The next, his entire face was in your hands.

He barely had time to process it before you yanked him down to your level, his knees nearly buckling as he stumbled forward. His breath hitched, and for a brief, chaotic moment, all he could do was stare.

Your fingers were squishing his cheeks, pressing into his face in a way that made his lips pout slightly. But you weren’t laughing. You weren’t teasing. You were staring, your eyes scanning his features with a level of intensity that made his brain short circuit.

Sero had never been a nervous guy. He was smooth cool, even. But there was something about the way you were studying him, your brows furrowed in deep concentration, that made him forget how to function.

“Uh,” he tried to say, but the way you were gripping his cheeks turned it into more of a muffled, “Whuh?”

You ignored him.

Instead, you slowly deliberately turned his head to face the three people sitting in front of you, all of whom were watching with expressions ranging from confusion to sheer amusement.

Ochako was biting her lip, eyes practically twinkling. Iida had a hand raised like he was about to intervene in whatever was happening. And Deku? Deku just looked utterly lost, glancing between you and Sero like he was waiting for someone to explain the rules of this bizarre situation.

You finally spoke, still holding Sero’s face hostage.

“This guy,” you declared, “gives the exact same energy as the heroes I just listed.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then:

“HUH?!”

Sero’s entire body went rigid. His brain completely shut down, the weight of your words slamming into him with the force of a cement truck.

“Oh my god,” Ochako whispered, covering her mouth in barely contained laughter.

Deku blinked rapidly. “Wait, Sero?”

Iida adjusted his glasses, clearly trying to keep his composure. “Y/N, I fail to see how”

“Tall? Check,” you continued, fingers still smooshed into Sero’s face as you tilted his head slightly for examination. “Effortlessly cool? Double check.”

Sero made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“Kind of a little shit but in a charming way?” You smirked. “Yeah. This man is Hawks… well hawks doesn’t have the tall part.”

Ochako full on giggled. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

Deku looked bewildered. “Wait, what about Present Mic?”

“Oh, easy.” You dramatically gestured toward Sero’s usual lazy grin though at the moment, it was more panicked. “Loud, funny, and way too charismatic for his own good?”

“HEY”

“Textbook Present Mic,” you confirmed.

Sero opened his mouth to protest only to immediately shut it when you tilted his head again, considering.

“And All Might?” Iida asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hummed, tilting your head before nodding. “It’s the natural hero vibes.”

Sero sputtered. “I what does that even mean?!”

“It means you’re effortlessly cool, you make people feel comfortable ” you said, grinning up at him. “And you know it.”

Effortlessly cool. Cool. COOL. You felt… safe around him?

Sero was going to combust.

And then, as if to seal his fate, you finally let go of his face only for him to immediately lose his balance.

He had been standing behind the couch when you grabbed him, leaning slightly forward to accommodate your grip. But now that you had released him, his brain was still buffering which meant his body had absolutely no idea what to do.

His foot slid slightly. His balance tilted. And before he could catch himself

“Whoa!”

With all the grace of an inflatable tube man in a hurricane, Sero flopped forward, collapsing over the back of the couch with a truly undignified squawk. His legs stayed standing, but his torso draped over the cushions, his arms sprawled out as his face planted directly onto Ochako’s lap.

“Oh my god,” Ochako wheezed, shaking with laughter. Iida pinched the bridge of his nose. Deku just stared.

Your laughter rang through the room, your body folding in half as you slapped your knee. “Bro. Are you good?”

Sero groaned into Ochako’s lap, muffled by the fabric of her sweatpants. “No. I am not good.”

“You were trying to be cool, huh?” Ochako teased, giggling as she patted his back.

“Shut up, Uraraka,” he muttered, voice still slightly strangled.

You grinned down at him, leaning over the armrest. “Aw, c’mon, Sero. You’re still cool in my book.”

Oh.

Oh, he was so done for.

Still draped over the couch like a defeated man, Sero let out a long, suffering sigh before finally lifting his head to look at you. His face was red undeniably, traitorously red but he still forced his signature grin, resting his chin in his hand as he met your gaze.

“So, uh,” he drawled, voice only slightly shaky, “just to be clear… you do think I’m hot, then?”

Your smirk widened. “Sero. My guy. I’ve been saying this.”

Sero inhaled sharply. “Huh.”

He nodded once. Thought about his life choices. Then nodded again.

“Alright,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “Cool. That’s, uh… that’s good to know.”

You were just grinning.

Because at the end of the day, there was nothing more satisfying than flustering Hanta Sero.

On the other hand his whole life was flashing through his eyes, well all the embarrassing parts. Dangling from his own tape mid training? Yeah. Getting slammed into a wall by Kirishima during a sparring match? Absolutely. Accidentally sticking himself to the ceiling during first year combat trials? Embarrassing, but yes.

Now, Still draped over the back of the couch, he had tried to adjust himself tried being the key word only to realize that when he fell, he hadn’t just landed on Ochako’s lap. No, that would’ve been fine. That would’ve been recoverable.

Instead, in a cruel twist of fate, he had ended up sprawled across you.

Now, his upper body was half squished against your chest, his arms awkwardly pressed into the cushions beside you, and his legs were still somehow dangling behind him, propped up against the back of the couch in a way that defied physics.

He did not know how he ended up here. But what was worse? You weren’t moving. You weren’t shoving him off. You weren’t telling him to get it together. You weren’t doing anything except sitting there, your expression unreadable, as if you weren’t completely aware of the fact that his face was currently way too close to yours.

The silence stretched. The tension? Thick.

Sero gulped. “Sooo…”

Ochako snorted. Iida rubbed his temples like he was praying for patience. Deku who had been watching all of this unfold just shook his head and sighed.

“I think,” Deku said carefully, standing from his seat, “we should… probably go.”

Iida nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Agreed.”

Ochako stretched her arms over her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, you two look busy.”

Sero’s brain completely derailed. “Wait, wh”

Before he could even try to salvage his dignity, the three of them were already gone, vanishing around the corner with suspiciously amused expressions.

It was just you and him.

Sero slowly, slowly turned his head to look at you, eyes wide. “Uh.”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re… not gonna push me off?”

“Eh.” You shrugged. “You’re warm.”

Sero nearly died on the spot.

His heart slammed against his ribs, his brain suddenly incapable of forming coherent thoughts. Warm. You liked this? You were fine with this?

He did not know what to do with that information.

“…You good?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah.” He nodded quickly. “Totally. Totally good.”

A pause.

Then, as if this was just another normal conversation, you casually went, “Wanna go into town with me today?”

Sero blinked. “Huh?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you finally sat up, forcing him to shift slightly so you weren’t both in a tangled mess of limbs. “I was thinking of heading into the city for a bit,” you explained. “Figured it’d be fun to have some company.”

Sero’s brain, still recovering from the absolute whiplash of the last five minutes, struggled to catch up. “Oh. Uh yeah, sure.”

You grinned. “Cool.”

And just like that, you stretched, standing up as if nothing had happened, before strolling toward the dorm entrance.

Sero, still awkwardly perched on the couch, blinked after you.

It wasn’t until you were already halfway down the hall that realization smacked him in the face.

Wait.

Did I just… agree to a date?

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

The moment you shut your bedroom door behind you, your entire body locked up.

Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you, wide eyed, mouth slightly open in shock.

Did I just?

You pointed at yourself accusingly.

“Did I just ask Hanta out?!”

Silence.

Your reflection, unhelpfully, did not respond.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.

What was that?! What possessed you to casually throw out an invitation like that? Sure, you wanted to hang out but you literally could have asked anyone! Anyone! But nooo, you had to invite Sero the same guy you’d been freaking out about all morning, the same guy who had landed on you just minutes ago, the same guy who had been so close that you could feel his breath

Your hands flew to your face as you let out a muffled groan.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I asked him out. I actually asked him out.”

Your brain was short circuiting.

And worst of all?

He said yes.

He actually said yes.

And what did that mean?

Did he know what he just agreed to? Was this a date to him, too? Or was he just thinking of it as a casual hangout? Was he panicking as much as you were right now? Or was he just being all cool and Sero about it?

You groaned again, aggressively yanking open your closet. No time to panic. You have to get ready.

You sifted through your clothes at lightning speed, heart racing. What do you wear on a maybe but also maybe not date? You couldn’t go too fancy that would be too obvious. But you also couldn’t dress like a total slob that would be not obvious enough.

You finally settled on something nice but casual, throwing it on in record time before rushing to the mirror again.

Your hair A mess. You moderately fixed it.

Your face? Red. Ugh.

You slapped your cheeks lightly, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” you muttered, staring yourself down. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re just hanging out with Sero. It’s totally normal. Not a big deal.”

Pause.

“…Except it is a big deal because you freaking like him”

You shoved that thought away, shaking your head furiously. Nope. Nope. Not going there right now.

Instead, you grabbed your phone, took one last deep breath, and bolted out the door trying very hard to ignore the way your heart was pounding at the thought of seeing him again.

By the time you made it downstairs, your nerves were still running wild. You had done everything possible to convince yourself this wasn’t a big deal this was just hanging out but the second you spotted Sero waiting by the door, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, your heart stuttered.

Because he looked jittery.

His hands were shoved deep into his hoodie pockets, his shoulders slightly tense, and his eyes darted around as if he couldn’t decide where to look. The moment he saw you, though, his entire body stiffened for half a second just barely noticeable before he forced himself to relax, throwing you a casual grin.

“Hey,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t give you away.

“Hey,” he echoed, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

For a moment, you both just stood there.

Then, at the same time

“So, uh”

“Are we”

Both of you stopped. Blinking.

Then, awkward laughter.

“Sorry, you go first,” Sero said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shook your head, waving him off. “Nah, wasn’t important. What were you gonna say?”

His fingers curled tighter around the fabric of his hoodie. “Uh… just are we walking anywhere in particular? Or are we just kinda…?”

You shrugged, stuffing your hands into your own pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Let’s just go. See where the day takes us.”

A beat of silence.

Sero’s mouth curled into a tiny, lopsided smile. “Sounds good.”

Wandering aimlessly through the city turned out to be perfect. At first, the conversation stayed light harmless jokes and casual observations, your usual banter keeping things effortless. The tension from earlier? Gone. Neither of you had to try around each other, and that was the best part.

At one point, you both stopped at a street vendor selling taiyaki, and after a debate over which filling was superior (chocolate, obviously), you decided to split one.

Sero took the first bite, chewing thoughtfully before tilting his head.

“Actually” he took another bite, slow and deliberate, “no, this sucks. You should probably just let me have the rest.”

Your mouth fell open. “You little”

Before he could react, you lunged, snatching the taiyaki right from his hands.

“Not a chance,” you said, taking a victorious bite.

Sero gaped at you. “You thief.”

“It’s called justice!”

“You’re literally eating my taiyaki!”

“You didn’t even pay for it!”

“Details.”

You grinned, savoring the taste until suddenly, fingers dug into your sides.

You yelped.

Sero snickered, tickling your waist just enough to make you squirm. “What’s that? You say I deserve it back?”

“SER-STOP” You nearly choked on your food, smacking at his arm. “THAT’S CHEATING!”

He just laughed, stepping back with a smug look. “All’s fair in love and taiyaki.”

Your face flamed. “Excuse me?!”

He blinked. Then, as if realizing what he just said, his expression froze for a split second before he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I I meant, uh”

“Oh my god, Sero.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

Then came the shopping stalls.

You had stopped at a small pop up stand, sifting through a collection of keychains when Sero, standing beside you, casually held one up.

It was a tiny cat, hanging from a silver loop, its little paws outstretched like it was reaching for something.

“Hey, you like this one?”

You turned your head, about to answer, only to see Sero already pulling out his wallet.

“Wait, no” You slapped a hand over his. “Nope.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

In a flash, you grabbed the keychain from his fingers, shoved a few bills at the vendor, and smirked as you stuffed it into your pocket.

“Ha!” you said triumphantly. “Beat you to it.”

Sero stared at you.. “hey let me be chivalrous.”

“i can be a chivalrous one from time to time”

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay. It’s on now.”

The rest of the day turned into a battle to see who could pay for things first.

Sero managed to stealthily buy your drink while you weren’t looking.

You shoved money at a vendor mid Sero’s sentence, just to spite him.

He tried to sneak some money in your bag to pay you back for a snack you bought, but you refused to accept it.

It escalated so much that one poor vendor actually looked between you two, utterly confused as you both shoved money toward them, trying to pay first.

By the time the sun started dipping below the buildings, you were laughing breathless, exhausted, and completely out of small bills.

Sero let out a dramatic sigh, slumping against a railing. “You exhaust me.”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “You love it.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

The city lights flickered on, illuminating the streets in warm glows. For a moment, you both just stood there, watching the world move around you.

When you glanced at him, you noticed his fingers twitching just barely like he wanted to reach for something but wasn’t sure if he should.

You turned back toward the street, your pulse oddly fast. The way he looked at you? The soft grin on his lips, the warmth in his gaze? It made you think that maybe… just maybe… he didn’t mind so much after all.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

The city lights shimmered in the distance as you and Sero stood just outside the dorms, the warm glow of the entrance lights casting long shadows across the pavement. The evening air was crisp, a gentle breeze ruffling Sero’s dark hair as he shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. He looked… hesitant, which wasn’t like him.

“So…” he started, voice casual but laced with something uncertain. His dark eyes flickered toward yours. “Was today, like… a date?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I mean” He gestured between the two of you, his expression caught somewhere between amused and serious. “We went out, just us, got food, fed each other”

“You fed me too!” you cut in, arms crossing defensively.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said with a chuckle, “but that’s my point! It kinda felt like a date, but I don’t remember you actually saying it was one.”

Your lips parted slightly, your brain scrambling for a response. Then, after a beat, you muttered, “Wasn’t it obvious?”

Sero raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Usually you have to say it’s a date for it to be one.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it.…Okay, fair point.

The smug look on his face made your own heat up with embarrassment.

“So, what, you just accidentally took me on a date?” he teased, his voice light but his gaze fixed on you, watching your reaction.

You groaned, tilting your head back dramatically before burying your face in your hands for a second. Then, dropping them to your sides, you sighed. “Fine! Yes, it was a date, okay? You happy now?”

Sero beamed, looking very pleased with himself. “Very.”

You huffed, glancing away, but you couldn’t fight the small smile creeping onto your lips.

A thought struck you, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, “Y’know, I really wanted to do the Spider Man kiss today.”

Sero, who had still been grinning at you, suddenly froze. “Wait what?”

You turned back to him, arms crossing again. “You know. The classic upside down kiss. Missed opportunity.”

He just stared at you, his brain clearly buffering.

Then, after a moment, he ran a hand down his face with a breathy laugh. “You really wanted to do that, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It would’ve been really… cute i think.”

Sero eyed you for a second, then, with a sudden spark of mischief, he took a step closer. His voice dipped, teasing yet playful. “Well,” he murmured, “no rule says we can’t do it now.”

Your heart skipped.

Then, you smirked. “Okay. But we gotta do it right.”

Sero rolled his eyes but still stepped back, already reaching for his arm. “Fine, fine.” With the ease of someone who had used his quirk a thousand times over, he shot a long strip of tape toward the awning above the dorm entrance, testing its hold before glancing at you.

“You better catch me if I fall,” he muttered, already pulling himself up.

You grinned. “No promises.”

Within seconds, he was suspended upside down, his dark hair falling freely as he swayed slightly. The angle made him blink rapidly, clearly thrown off. “Okay, this is way more disorienting than I thought.”

You stifled a giggle, stepping closer until his face was inches from yours. “You look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah, are you kissing me or what?”

You rolled your eyes fondly before reaching up, gently cupping his face. His breath hitched slightly, his dark eyes flickering from yours to your lips.

And then, closing the gap, you kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant as you adjusted to the angle, but then Sero melted into it. His lips moved against yours, warm and sure, despite his upside down position. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation him suspended in midair, you leaning up to meet him only made it better.

When you finally pulled away, Sero let out a breathless chuckle. “That… was pretty cool.”

You smirked, poking his cheek. “Told you.”

He sighed dramatically, grabbing onto his tape to lower himself down. The moment his feet hit the ground, he stretched his arms above his head with a content grin.

“So,” he mused, rolling his shoulders. “Does that officially make this a date?”

You smirked, arms crossed. “I don’t know.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Seriously?”

You shrugged, teasing. “You usually have to say it’s a date for it to be one, right?”

Sero let out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I get it!” Then, with a small grin, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer. “So, you wanna go out with me? Officially?”

Your heart skipped, but you matched his grin, feeling the warmth of the night air between you both.

“Obviously.”

[In the dorm common room, the morning after the kiss.]

Denki: So, let me get this straight you kissed him?

You: …Yes?

Sero: She just couldn’t resist me.

You: Oh my god—

Denki: Bro, I’m so proud of you… but also deeply envious.

Mina: I cant even lie you pulled the baddie of the class, im so bummed on this

Denki: WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Geto Suguru x Reader

Gojo Satoru x Reader

────୨ৎ────

⋆˚✿˖° 2. I’ve Played these Games Before

Headcannon, the men are stupid

if you missed the last chapter and want more-> masterlist

₍^. .^₎⟆ Geto sighed, stretching his arms as he strolled toward his dorm. The study session had been useless (as expected), but at least it had been entertaining. Though, if he was being honest, the best part of the evening had been watching Gojo flail around in real-time romantic panic.

He smirked to himself. That was going to be fun to watch unfold.

Not that he cared much about the bet itself. That was just a way to mess with Gojo, to see him squirm. Nothing more.

His plan was simple he’d treat you exactly the same as always. Calm, confident, teasing. Unlike Gojo, he didn’t need to rely on some ridiculous strategy. He wasn’t about to start googling psychological tricks like a lovesick idiot.

No, he’d just make a few subtle changes. More intentional eye contact. More casual touches. More moments of quiet attention, the kind that made people feel like they were the only one in the room.

At least, that’s what he thought, until lunchtime the next day, when Gojo started getting on his nerves.

Because, of course, Gojo wasn’t capable of subtlety.

“Wow,” Gojo whistled, sliding into the seat across from you. “Look at you, already eating without me? I thought we had something special.”

You looked up mid bite, a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth. “Gojo, you were literally behind me in line.”

“Details,” he waved off, dramatically propping his chin in his hand. “But you know, I was thinking of eating alone today… until I saw you, and my heart just knew I couldn’t let that happen.”

You snorted. “Sounds rough, buddy.”

His sunglasses slid down his nose just enough for you to see his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have no idea.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking another bite of your food. Gojo watched you closely, subtly shifting in his seat. Step one—mirroring movements. You lifted your spoon, and he lazily picked up his chopsticks. You leaned forward slightly, and he mirrored the action. He was subtle about it, of course. Natural. Completely normal. Definitely not weird.

Except you paused, squinting at him.

“…Are you copying me?”

Gojo choked on air. “Wh—what? No! Pfft. I’m just sitting.”

Your grin widened. “Satoru, are you copying me?”

He waved his chopsticks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You squinted a second longer, then shrugged, going back to your food. “Mhm. Sure.”

Gojo let out a silent breath. Okay. Maybe less obvious on that one.

Right. Step two—eye contact.

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm as he gazed at you, letting his signature smirk tug at his lips. A confident, roguish expression that, historically, had driven people wild.

You, however, just blinked at him. “Are you- why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to read your mind or something.”

Gojo sighed dramatically. “I was just admiring the way the cafeteria lights shine in your eyes. Very mesmerizing. Stunning, even.”

You blinked again. “Satoru, the cafeteria lights are fluorescent.”

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Yet, somehow, you make them work.”

You just groaned, shaking your head. “You are so weird.”

He ignored the minor setback and moved to Step three—casual physical touch. Casual. Natural. Smooth. So he reached across the table and lightly flicked your forehead.

You recoiled, dramatically grabbing your head. “Ow?!”

“Oops.” He grinned. “Slipped.”

“You slipped into flicking me?”

“Crazy, right?”

You narrowed your eyes before retaliating, smacking his arm with the back of your spoon. “Oops,” you mimicked, grinning. “I slipped.”

Gojo laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, truce.” You huffed, still smiling, before turning your attention back to your food.

Step four—make them laugh.

He was already a pro at that. Easy. No problem. You weren’t in a bad mood or anything, just a little spaced out, quietly picking at your food while Geto and Shoko talked beside you. Normally, you’d be more engaged, but today, your mind just wasn’t all there.

Gojo, of course, noticed. And he could not let that slide.

“Alright, I’m making an official declaration,” he announced, leaning forward with a grin. “I’m getting her—” he pointed dramatically at you “—to laugh before lunch is over.”

Shoko didn’t even look up from her juice box. “Shouldn’t take long. Five minutes.”

“Two,” Geto said, smirking. “He’s predictable.”

You blinked at them. “Wait—what? I do laugh.”

“Not enough,” Gojo countered, watching you with exaggerated scrutiny. “Not the real, ugly, snorting kind. That’s the goal.”

“You don’t need that,” you said flatly.

“Oh, but I do.”

He leaned forward, hands clasped like he was about to deliver something profound. “Okay. Picture this. I’m fighting this cursed spirit the other day—big, ugly thing, smelled like a sewer. And it looks at me and goes, ‘Hey, aren’t you that discount Kakashi?’”

Silence.

Geto exhaled through his nose, mildly amused. Shoko just sighed. You gave Gojo a slow blink.

Gojo placed a hand on his chest, scandalized. “Nothing? That was comedy gold.”

“That was sad,” Geto corrected.

“Okay, fine, I can do better,” Gojo said, shaking it off before dramatically throwing himself against Geto’s side. “Bro, I can’t believe this. My own best friend, laughing before she does. This is a betrayal. How do I go on?”

“Quieter,” Geto muttered, shoving him off.

Gojo ignored him. “Alright, last attempt.” He turned to you, suddenly serious. “If you don’t laugh in the next ten seconds, I’m taking your dessert.”

Your head snapped up. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

And then, as if to prove he meant business, he grabbed two onigiri from Geto’s tray, wiggled them like little sock puppets, and in the most high pitched, overly dramatic voice you’d ever heard, went:

“Oh no, Gojo-sama, please spare us! We are but humble rice balls!”

He made one onigiri turn to the other. “Brother, I don’t think he’s going to show us mercy…”

The second onigiri shook dramatically. “No, we still have so much to live for! My wife, my children, who will tell them what happened to me?”

“I will, dear brother,” the first one promised solemnly. “I will tell them of your bravery!”

“No!” The second onigiri screamed (or rather, Gojo screamed for it). “You must live on! Let me be the one to—AHHH!”

And with that, Gojo chucked the onigiri into his mouth and took an exaggerated, victorious bite.

You burst out laughing. The kind of laugh you couldn’t hold in if you tried, the kind that made you lean forward onto the table, shoulders shaking as you gasped for air.

Gojo pointed at you with a mouthful of rice. “Boom. Victory.”

Shoko sighed, sipping her juice. “Took longer than I thought.”

Geto shook his head. “I’m never letting you near my food again.”

But Gojo wasn’t listening. He was too busy basking in his success, leaning toward you with a cocky grin. “Told you you couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re an idiot,” you wheezed, still catching your breath.

“And yet,” Gojo said, stealing your dessert anyway, “an idiot with perfect comedic timing.” You groaned I’m reply.

He grinned, triumphant.

Then, Step five, say their name more. “Hey, (Y/N),” he drawled, propping his chin on his hand.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Satoru?”

He blinked. “Uh.”

Damn it. He didn’t actually have anything to say. He’d just read in some stupid article that saying your name was supposed to make you subconsciously more interested in him.

“…Nothing,” he said smoothly, smiling. “Just wanted to remind you how nice your name sounds.”

You gave him a look. “Right.”

A beat of silence. Then

“Satoru,” you said, voice suspiciously sweet.

Gojo grinned. “Yeah?”

“You are being weird.”

“Me?” He placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Weird? Perish the thought.”

You just laughed, shaking your head as you finished the last of your food. “Anyway, as fun as this has been, Im a little thirsty.”

Gojo gasped. “What, you’re leaving me?”

“You’ll survive.” You smirked, standing up. “Probably.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “(Y/N), your cruelty knows no bounds.”

You just rolled your eyes but smiled. “I’ll be back I want to get a other juice Gojo”

And then you were gone, disappearing into the cafeteria crowd.Gojo sighed, dropping his head onto the table.Well. That could’ve gone better. He pulled out his phone, opening his notes app.

The Gojo Satoru Foolproof Love Plan™ (That Hopefully Works and Doesn’t End in Humiliation)

1. Mirroring movements (FAILED. TOO OBVIOUS.)

2. Eye contact (??? Unclear. Need feedback.)

3. Casual touches (Flicking? Bad idea. Find alternative.)

4. Make them laugh (SUCCESS. OBVIOUSLY.)

5. Say their name more (Awkward. Do not force it.)

6. Grand romantic gesture??? (Not yet. Too soon.)

7. Don’t mess this up. (Currently… TBD.)

Gojo sighed, locking his phone.

—

Geto watched from across the lunch table, fingers idly tapping against his drink, as Gojo leaned way too far into your space. He dropped your name into the conversation at least three times in the last minute, nudged your arm, and let out an exaggerated laugh at something you’d said, something that wasn’t that funny. Then when you got up he looked straight at gojo.

“Alright,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Are you trying to scare them away?”

Gojo shot him a look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Geto just raised an eyebrow. Gojo’s eye twitched slightly. Shoko, who had been watching this unfold with the air of someone witnessing a tragic yet hilarious accident, snorted. “You’re overdoing it,” she told Gojo.

“No, I’m not” Gojo started, then cut himself off, visibly forcing himself to look less desperate. He leaned back, feigning ease. “I mean, pfft. No way. This is all natural.”

Geto exhaled slowly, leveling Gojo with a knowing look.

Because here was the thing, Gojo wasn’t bad at this. He was naturally charismatic. He could be smooth. But when he actually cared about something? When it actually mattered?

He became a disaster, it was obvious that this mattered. Which meant Geto had the upper hand for now. He allowed himself a small smirk before turning back to you as you came back. Unlike Gojo, he wouldn’t trip over himself. He wouldn’t force it. He’d just let things fall into place.

This was going to be easy.

Except.

As lunch went on, Geto noticed something.

At first, Gojo’s fumbling had been amusing. Watching the ever-confident Satoru practically trip over his own feet was undeniably entertaining. But the longer Geto watched, the more he started to realize why Gojo was messing up so badly. Because Gojo flirted all the time. He teased, he charmed half the jujitsu world was wrapped around his finger without him even trying.

Gojo actually liked you.

The thought settled like a weight in Geto’s chest. His fingers tapped idly against the table.

He glanced at you. You were laughing, completely oblivious to the quiet crisis happening across the table. And something about that sent an uncomfortable twist through his stomach.

He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was serious. He was just messing with Gojo. That’s what he’d told himself. That’s all this was.

…Right?

Then why did his gaze linger a little too long when you smiled? Why did it bother him when Gojo made you laugh first? Why did it feel like he was always second to Gojo?

Because that was how it always went, wasn’t it?

Gojo was loud, blinding, impossible to ignore. The center of attention in every room. And Geto?

He was there. A presence. A shadow. Not invisible, not overlooked but never first. watching Gojo fight for your attention, watching you react to him, laugh at him. The weight in Geto’s chest grew heavier. His grip on his drink tightened.

No.

This wasn’t about Gojo. It wasn’t about the bet. It wasn’t about proving a point. This was about you. Because he didn’t just want to win. He wanted you and for you to know he wont always come second

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat, watching as Gojo tried (and failed) to act casual.

—

“You know, (Y/n),” Gojo drawled, slinging an arm over the back of your chair like he owned the place. His fingers drummed lazily against the wood, his usual cocky smirk in place. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s a first,” you quipped without missing a beat, eyes still focused on your food as you casually poked at your meal.

Across the table, Geto exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. Shoko, perched beside him with her cigarette balanced between two fingers, barely hid her smirk as she took a slow drag.

Gojo clicked his tongue, feigning offense. “Rude. I was about to say something really profound, actually.

Finally, you glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. “Oh? Enlighten me, oh wise and powerful one.”

Gojo grinned wider, but Geto, who knew him better than anyone, noticed the way his fingers tapped just a little too quickly against the table. A nervous tic, barely noticeable. Interesting.

“Well, now I don’t want to with that attitude” Gojo continued, voice dripping with forced nonchalance. “I was just thinking, don’t you think we make a great pair?”

You blinked at him, head tilting slightly with a smirk. “A pair of what, exactly?”

For the first time since opening his mouth, Gojo hesitated. It was only for a fraction of a second, but in that brief pause, Geto could see the exact moment doubt crept into his friend’s mind.

“A pair of… cool people?” Gojo finally offered, flashing a sheepish smile, one hand adjusting his sunglasses even though they hadn’t moved.

There was a beat of silence. Shoko exhaled smoke through her nose, unimpressed. Geto took a slow sip of his drink, watching the interaction unfold with the air of a man witnessing a slow motion car crash painful, but fascinating.

Meanwhile, you squinted at Gojo, head tilting slightly, as if trying to decipher some kind of hidden meaning. “Did you just try to flirt with me by suggesting we… form a club?”

“No” Gojo started, but before he could finish, Geto decided to cut in. Because, really, this was just too good to pass up.

“Oh, I dunno,” he interjected smoothly, tilting his head slightly in your direction. His voice carried the perfect balance of amusement and intrigue, just enough to make Gojo twitch. “I think he’s onto something. You are pretty cool, after all.”

That got your attention. Your lips curled into a delighted grin as you turned to Geto. “Someone recognizes my greatness!” You placed a dramatic hand over your chest. “It’s about time.” You stick out your tongue to gojo

“Get I’m your knees and say I’m cool and you’re not ” You pointed your chopsticks at gojo,

Geto hummed, pleased with himself as he set his drink down. “I only speak the truth.”

Gojo’s eye twitched. Oh, come on.

Shoko exhaled another puff of smoke, watching the scene unfold like it was the best entertainment she’d had in weeks. This is a mess, she thought. A hilarious, glorious mess.

Gojo, meanwhile, looked like he was seconds away from combusting. He narrowed his eyes at Geto, who looked far too pleased with himself, before quickly shaking it off.

“Anyway,” Gojo cut back in, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation. He turned to you again, tapping your shoulder lightly as his grin returned. “What I meant was, you and me? We work well together, y’know? Great chemistry and all that.”

You smirk at him. “Like lab partners?”

There was a moment of silence and then Shoko choked on her drink. Geto coughed lightly, raising a fist to his mouth to cover his smirk. But internally? He was dying.

Gojo froze. His jaw clenched for just a fraction of a second before he forced a grin, his usual confidence cracking under the weight of sheer secondhand embarrassment. “Exactly like lab partners,” he said, voice painfully flat.

“Cool!” You beamed, completely oblivious to Gojo’s growing inner turmoil. “Let me know when we’re dissecting frogs, I guess.” Then you for up and ran to utahime for a moment when you see her aggressively waving you over.

Gojo groaned, flopping back in his seat like a man defeated.

Shoko wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. “This is actually painful to watch.”

“Not for me,” Geto mused, barely containing his smirk as he leaned back.

Gojo turned his head just enough to glare at him. “You suck.”

“Aw, Satoru,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Don’t be such a sore loser.”

“Losing implies I’ve lost,” Gojo shot back, sitting up with renewed determination. “And I never lose.”

Geto merely raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said smoothly, sipping his drink again. But inside, he was still thinking about the way you had laughed at his words. The way you had turned to him so easily, bright eyed and happy.

And just like that, what was supposed to be a harmless bet felt like something else entirely. Something he wasn’t willing to lose.

—

After lunch wrapped up, Gojo had been dragged away by some underclassmen pestering him for help though, judging by his exaggerated groan of suffering, you’d think they were sentencing him to life in prison. Shoko had peeled off shortly after, muttering something about a nap and waving lazily over her shoulder.

That left you and Geto.

The two of you walked side by side through the courtyard, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. It was warm but not unpleasant, with a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance.

“So,” Geto said, hands slipping casually into his pockets. “Lab partners, huh?”

You grinned, glancing up at him. “What? You don’t think me and Gojo have great chemistry?”

Geto hummed, pretending to consider it. “More like chaotic combustion.”

You laughed, nudging his arm playfully. “Okay, thats just basic math when you out us I’m a room together”

The sound of your laughter settled into Geto’s chest, warm and lingering. He’d always liked that about you how easy it was for you to find amusement in things, how naturally lighthearted you could be. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed your company so much.

He wasn’t even sure when it had started this noticing of yours. The way you smiled when you were really, genuinely happy. The way your hands moved when you talked excitedly. The way your eyes lit up when you were being playful, like they had during lunch when you had turned to him.

Yeah. He was noticing a lot more than he used to.

“You were really enjoying yourself back there,” you mused, shooting him a knowing look.

Geto smirked. “Can you blame me? Watching Gojo crash and burn is one of life’s simplest pleasures.”

You laughed again, and he found himself watching you a little too closely.

It had started as a joke. Just a bet. A way to mess with Gojo and watch him struggle for once.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

Maybe it was because you always seemed to get along with him so easily, without all the dramatics and fanfare that followed Gojo everywhere. Maybe it was because teasing you came as naturally as breathing, and you always played along. Maybe it was because, when you looked at him, it never felt like he was standing in Gojo’s shadow.

Because Geto had spent years watching people flock to Gojo first. It wasn’t something he resented, not really it was just the way things were. Gojo was loud, larger than life, the sun in the center of everyone’s orbit.

But now, as you walked beside him, smiling and laughing and completely unaware of the thoughts creeping into his head he wondered what it would be like if, just this once, he wasn’t second.

If you chose him.

“Alright, then,” you said suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts. “If Gojo and I are chaotic combustion, what kind of chemistry do we have?”

You grinned up at him, eyes bright with curiosity. Playful. Innocent. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. Because for all his usual confidence, for all his careful, patient planning, he hadn’t been expecting that.

His smirk lingered, but this time, it took a fraction of a second longer to form.

“Hmm,” he mused, tilting his head in thought. “I’d say… slow burn.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, is that a real chemistry thing or—”

“Who knows?” Geto said smoothly, flashing you a teasing smile before stepping ahead. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.”

You gaped at him. “Oh, now you’re being mysterious?”

He only laughed, glancing back over his shoulder. “What can I say? Gotta keep things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned as you jogged to catch up with him and Geto, for all his patience, was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wanted to win this more than he thought.

The neon lights of Tokyo buzzed overhead as the four of you wandered the crowded streets, blending into the after-school . It was that perfect in between time too early for the late-night crowd, but just late enough that everything felt a little more exciting.

And, as usual, Gojo was causing problems.

“You dragged us out here,” you sighed, watching Gojo pat down his pockets like he’d just realized he forgot something important. “How do you not know where we’re going?”

“I do know!” Gojo huffed, placing a hand over his heart like you’d mortally wounded him. “I’m just giving the night a sense of mystery.”

“You lost the directions, didn’t you?” Shoko deadpanned.

“Have some faith in me,” Gojo scoffed.

“I did,” Geto mused. “Then I watched you confidently lead us to a random 7-Eleven last time because you thought there was a ‘secret food market’ underground.”

Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are none of you gonna let that go?”

“No,” you, Geto, and Shoko said in unison.

Gojo grumbled under his breath, but before he could keep digging his own grave, you gestured toward a bright, bustling arcade across the street.

“Let’s just go in there,” you suggested. Pointing towards the arcade near by “Since our fearless leader clearly has no actual plan.”

Gojo perked up. “Hey! I did have a plan—”

“Oh my god, shut up and walk,” Shoko sighed, already making her way inside.

—

The place was packed, rows of flashing game screens, the constant clinking of tokens, and the occasional victorious yell from someone landing a big win. It was the kind of that was just fun enough to be energizing rather than overwhelming.

Immediately, Gojo beelined for a claw machine. “I’m winning something for you,” he declared, pointing at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you’ll win.”

Gojo grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Bold of you to underestimate me.”

“Gojo, I watched you spend 3,000 yen last time trying to win a keychain,” Geto reminded him, his voice thoroughly unimpressed.

“Okay, but this time is different,” Gojo insisted. “This time, I have motivation.”

You snorted. “Sure you do.”

Shoko rolled her eyes and wandered off to find a rhythm game, and Geto turned to you, smirking. “Wanna bet on how many tries it takes before he gives up?”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Thirty Minutes Later…

Gojo was slumped against the claw machine, forehead pressed against the glass, as the plush he had almost grabbed slipped back into the pile for what had to be the twentieth time.

“…This thing is rigged,” he muttered.

Geto, sipping his drink, hummed. “Mmm. Sure.”

You held out a hand toward him. “Pay up.”

Geto sighed but placed a few coins into your palm. “I should’ve known better.”

Shoko strolled back over, glancing at Gojo’s miserable form. “Wow. Are we gonna have to carry you out of here?”

Gojo groaned dramatically. “Leave me. I belong to the void now.”

You rolled your eyes before stepping up to the machine, slipping in a coin. “Here,” you said, gripping the controls. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Gojo peeled himself off the glass just enough to watch, skeptical. “If you win this on your first try, I’m actually gonna lose my mind.”

You maneuvered the claw, timed the drop perfectly, and…….Bam!

“Your mind better be severally lost when I turn around” you smirk while holding it out to the three of them. Then talking a look at the white haired guy.

“Here, since you worked so hard for it”

Gojo blinked. Then he stared at you. “…You’re giving it to me?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. You worked hard for it.”

Gojo expected you to rub it in, to make some smug comment about how much better you were, but you didn’t. You just… gave it to him. No teasing, no conditions. Just an easy, casual, Here, this is yours.

Something in his chest actually ached.

He took the plush from your hands, staring down at it like it was something important.

“…Wow,” he muttered, voice a little quieter than usual. “So this is what kindness feels like.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“No, no, this is a life changing moment,” Gojo insisted, holding the plush to his chest. “I feel so appreciated right now.”

Geto smirked. “You’re gonna sleep with that thing, aren’t you?”

Gojo scoffed. “Of course not.” He absolutely was.

Shoko yawned. “Can we go now, or do you need a moment to emotionally bond with the plush?”

Gojo pouted. “Let me have this.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “C’mon, Gojo.”

As the four of you made your way back outside, Gojo fell into step beside you, still clutching the plush. He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Maybe he had completely embarrassed himself tonight, but… This was definitely the best prize he’d ever won.

—

The four of you ended up at a cozy little ramen shop tucked into a side street, the kind of place with handwritten menus, warm lighting, and the rich smell of broth and grilled meats filling the air. It was nothing fancy, but it was good, one of Geto’s usual spots, which meant it was guaranteed to be great.

The ramen shop was cozy, the kind of place that felt like a well kept secret. The handwritten menus, the warm yellow glow from the hanging lanterns, the smell of rich broth and grilled skewers, it all made for a welcoming atmosphere. A place you could linger, talk, enjoy good food without pretense.

Gojo was still holding the small, plush keychain you’d won for him at the arcade earlier, absentmindedly squeezing it between his fingers as you all slid into a booth. He had insisted he didn’t need it, but you had seen the way his face lit up when you handed it to him, how he twirled it in his hands the entire walk over. He hadn’t let go of it since.

Shoko and Gojo immediately launched into a heated debate over toppings, something about whether bamboo shoots were a necessary addition or a waste of space.

You and Geto exchanged a glance. Unspoken solidarity.

“You wanna share something?” Geto’s voice was casual, smooth, as he leaned an elbow against the table, turning his full attention to you.

You blinked. “Uh"…

Gojo, mid argument with Shoko, snapped his head around so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

“What?”

Geto hummed, reaching for the menu, eyes glinting with amusement. “I was just saying we could split something.” His gaze flicked back to you, warm and steady. “Figured you’d get tired of Gojo stealing food off your plate.”

You scoffed, tilting your head in mock consideration. “That’s… actually a really good point.”

Gojo gasped, pointing an accusatory chopstick at Geto. “I do not steal—”

Shoko snorted. “You ate half my gyoza last week.”

Gojo immediately turned to her, defensive. “You weren’t gonna finish them!”

“You didn’t ask.”

Geto chuckled, nudging the menu toward you. “So? What looks good?”

You skimmed the options, feeling the weight of Geto’s gaze. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing, just waiting, watching, letting you make the decision. It was subtle, but it felt different from his usual teasing. More intentional.

Meanwhile, across the table, Gojo had gone suspiciously quiet.

He kept fidgeting with the plush you won him, his fingers idly squeezing its soft fabric. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal, so what if Geto was pulling out his smooth operator act? That’s just how he was. And it wasn’t like Gojo cared. Except… he kind of did.When the food finally arrived, the table filled with steaming bowls of ramen, plates of dumplings, and skewers of grilled meat. Gojo had ordered the biggest portion possible…partly out of habit, partly as some unspoken form of protest.

Geto slid the bowl of spicy miso ramen between the two of you. “You want the first bite?”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind—”

Before you could finish, Geto picked up a spoon, scooped up a bit of broth, and lifted it toward you

.

“Here. Try it.”

You blinked. Gojo blinked. Shoko, sipping her drink, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“…Are you feeding me?” you asked, both amused and caught off guard.

Geto smirked. “Only if you want me to.”

Gojo’s chopsticks snapped in half.

You chuckled, shaking your head before taking the spoon from Geto yourself. “I can handle it, thanks.”

Geto leaned back, looking very pleased with himself. “Fair enough.”

Gojo, meanwhile, was gripping what was left of his broken chopsticks, staring down at his ramen like he was contemplating the meaning of life.

Shoko nudged him with her elbow. “You good?”

Gojo didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

Shoko smirked. “Uh-huh.”

Gojo kept stirring his ramen. He wasn’t going to say anything because what was there to say? Geto wasn’t doing anything technically wrong. It was just his usual, effortless charm. The same charm that made people naturally gravitate toward him. But tonight, for some reason, it was getting under Gojo’s skin. He knew Geto knew how he played things, knew how easy it was for him to slip into that role. And Gojo had always been fine with that. They were best friends, partners in crime. But now? Now, watching Geto lean just a little closer, watching you smile and laugh without hesitation Gojo felt something simmering in his chest. A feeling he didn’t quite want to name.

Shoko nudged him again. “You sure? Because you’re either planning murder or having an existential crisis over there.”

Gojo exhaled, flopping dramatically against the booth. “I’m just thinking.”

Shoko’s smirk widened. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

Gojo scowled. “Nothing.”

She didn’t press, but she didn’t have to. They both knew exactly what he was thinking.

Across the table, you and Geto were still chatting, sharing your ramen without a second thought.

Gojo finally dropped his chopsticks with a dramatic sigh, flopping back against the booth. “Okay, enough about feeding each other. We get it. You guys have basic teamwork skills.”

Geto, completely unfazed, turned to him with a lazy grin. “You jealous, Satoru?”

Shoko bit back a laugh.

Gojo rolled his eyes. “Me? Jealous? Of you?” He let out a loud, exaggerated laugh before immediately turning to you. “Hey. You wanna try my ramen?”

You gave him a flat look. “Gojo, you got the most boring option on the menu.”

Gojo gasped. “Excuse me? Classic shoyu ramen is a timeless masterpiece.”

Geto chuckled, watching the exchange with amusement. “Yeah, nothing says excitement like a safe choice.”

Gojo pointed a dramatic finger at him. “I don’t need your judgment, Suguru.”

“Not jealous,” he muttered. “Just… not that hungry anymore.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

You, however, nudged his arm lightly. “Gojo, you literally ordered the biggest bowl on the menu.”

He glanced at you, blue eyes flickering with something unreadable for a second before he shrugged. “Guess my appetite’s smaller than I thought.”

Lies.

Gojo always ate like he had a bottomless pit for a stomach. But tonight, the food tasted a little bland.

Geto leaned back in his seat, watching him carefully. He didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers tapped lightly against the table made it clear he noticed the shift.

For the rest of the meal, Gojo stayed a little quieter than usual, only half-listening as you and Geto talked. He didn’t make a fuss. Didn’t push the usual playful banter. But every now and then, his gaze would flicker toward Geto, then back to you. And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, He was already too late.

Geto just smiled, relaxed and confident as ever. He didn’t need to gloat, Gojo was already riled up enough for the both of them.

Across the table, Shoko stretched her arms over her head, looking just about done with the two of them. “Alright, children. Eat your food before the shop kicks us out.”

Gojo grumbled under his breath before finally taking an actual bite of his ramen. But as he chewed, he glanced at Geto, then at you, and then back at Geto. He didn’t say anything. But in the back of his mind, he was already planning his next move.

——

The streets were quieter now, the distant hum of the city fading as the four of you made your way back to Jujutsu High. The crisp night air nipped at your skin, but the warmth of the ramen shop still clung to you, the scent of broth and grilled meat lingering in your clothes.

It should have been a perfect night. A rare one, even. Just the four of you, no missions, no training, no looming sense of responsibility. But despite the easy conversation and the comfortable rhythm of your walk, something felt… off. Or maybe different was the better word.

You weren’t sure when you started noticing it. Maybe it was back at the ramen shop, or maybe even earlier at the arcade, but the feeling had been creeping up on you all night, just subtle enough to ignore, until now.

Geto had always been smooth. Confident in a way that never felt overdone, just natural. He had a way of making things seem effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. But tonight, there was something pointed about it. The way he leaned in just a little closer, the way he found reasons to keep the conversation between just the two of you, the way his gaze lingered a second too long.

And then there was Gojo. Normally, he’d be the loudest one here, cracking jokes, making everything a competition, dragging all the attention toward himself like it was second nature. But tonight?

Tonight, he’d been different too.

Quieter. A little distant. He still teased, still complained, but there was something off about it. Like his heart wasn’t really in it.

You stole a glance back at him. He was trailing just a step behind, hands buried deep in his pockets, his usual long strides feeling slower, heavier. His shoulders were set, his jaw tight—like he was thinking too hard about something he didn’t want to say. It made something in your chest twist.

“Cold?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. Geto’s voice was low, even, pulling you back to the present.

“Huh?”

“It’s chilly,” he said, already shrugging off his jacket. “Here.”

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“Just take it.” His tone left little room for argument as he draped the jacket over your shoulders before you could protest, his fingers grazing lightly against your collarbone. Your breath hitched. Geto was always like this, thoughtful in a way that felt effortless, like he didn’t even have to think about it you try to rationalize to yourself.

“…Thanks,” you murmured, fingers instinctively curling around the fabric.

He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kept walking beside you. His pace was steady, close but not too close, just enough that your arms brushed every now and then—not quite accidental, but not completely intentional either.

It was the kind of thing you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about—if it weren’t for the way Gojo had gone completely silent behind you.

You glanced back again.

Gojo’s expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was still fidgeting with the plush keychain you’d won for him earlier, rolling it between his fingers, his grip just a little too tight. Something about the sight made your stomach sink.

“Shortcut?”

Shoko’s voice broke the tension, casual and lazy as she stretched her arms over her head.

Gojo barely hesitated. “Yeah, same.” His voice was flat.

You blinked. “Shortcut?”

Shoko gestured to a narrow side path. “Cuts the walk down. Bit of an uphill climb, but faster.”

“But it sucks,” Geto pointed out, unimpressed. “Too steep.”

She shrugged. “Worth it.” Then she turned to you and Geto, smirking. “Guess you two are taking the scenic route, huh?”

Your face immediately went warm. “That’s not—”

“Later,” she cut you off with a lazy wave, already tugging Gojo along.

You barely caught a glimpse of his face before he turned away. But for a second. Just a second. his eyes flickered toward you, something unreadable behind them. Like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

Instead, he let himself be pulled along, following Shoko without another word. Just the Two of You. The silence left in their absence felt heavier than it should have.

“Guess it’s just us,” Geto said lightly, casting a glance at you.

You huffed, still flustered. “Shoko says stuff just to mess with people, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. But… she’s usually not wrong.”

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

“What?” you blurted out, a little too quick.

Geto didn’t answer right away. He just smiled to himself, looking ahead like he knew something you didn’t. Your thoughts tangled together, a mess of contradictions. Gojo had been off tonight. And Geto was acting just different enough that you couldn’t ignore it.

It made something in your chest tighten. They were your friends. You weren’t supposed to overthink things like this. But something was changing. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps filled the silence between you. The campus was still a ways off, the path stretching ahead of you under the glow of streetlights. “…Did you have fun tonight?” Geto’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing edge.

You hesitated. “…Yeah. Did you?”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “More than I expected to.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your pulse jump.

You looked away, focusing on the ground ahead of you. “…You want this back?” you asked, shifting under the weight of his jacket.

He shook his head easily. “Nah. Looks better on you.”

Your face felt warm despite the cool air.

“So,” Geto broke the quiet, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “You really gonna make me carry this whole conversation by myself?”

You shot him a look. “You’re the one who insists on talking all the time.”

He grinned. “Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”

You scoffed. “Oh, right. Because I’m just so boring.”

“Didn’t say that.” His tone was teasing, but his gaze flickered over to you with something unreadable. “Just quiet.”

You huffed. “I can be fun.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, intrigued. “Prove it.”

You squinted at him. “What, you want me to juggle or something?”

“That’d be a start.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Uh… okay, did I ever tell you about the time I completely humiliated myself in front of Mei Mei?”

His eyes lit up. “No, but I already know this is gonna be good.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “It was awful. I was helping her carry some stuff, right? Trying to be useful. But I tripped on absolutely nothing, flailed like a total idiot, and somehow managed to launch her entire stack of training manuals across the courtyard.”

Geto let out a loud laugh. “No way.”

“Oh, it gets worse. Instead of, I don’t know, getting up with some dignity, I just laid there for a second. Mei Mei didn’t even say anything, she just stared at me like she was trying to figure out if I was a lost cause.”

“That sounds like her.”

“I still don’t know if she was more disappointed or just impressed by how thoroughly I managed to embarrass myself.”

Geto was still grinning. “That’s beautiful. I wish I’d been there.”

“See? I am fun,” you said triumphantly.

He hummed, tilting his head in consideration. “I don’t know. That sounds less like ‘fun’ and more like ‘chronic bad luck.’”

You smacked his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

He just laughed, rubbing the spot like you’d actually hurt him. “Okay, okay. You win. You’re fun.”

“Damn right I am.”

You were both smiling now, the warmth of the moment making the chilly night air feel insignificant.

“…You should laugh more,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter.

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

He shrugged, looking ahead. “Just saying. It suits you.”

Your stomach flipped again, but this time, you didn’t push the feeling away.

Instead, you just shook your head with a soft chuckle. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

“Not a chance.” He flashed you a grin, his steps falling just a little closer to yours.

The rest of the walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just charged in a way you weren’t used to.

By the time you reached the school gates, your thoughts were a mess.

The weight of Geto’s jacket still lingered on your shoulders.

somewhere in the back of your mind, Gojo’s silence stuck with you in a way you didn’t quite understand.Something was changing and you had no idea what to do about it.

The school grounds were quiet at this hour, the faint hum of the cicadas in the trees the only sound filling the night air. Most of the students had long since gone to sleep, the dorms dark and still, but you and Geto lingered by the entrance, neither of you quite ready to part ways just yet.

You shifted the jacket draped over your shoulders, acutely aware of its warmth, of the faint scent of Geto’s cologne still clinging to the fabric.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Geto’s voice broke the silence, amused.

You blinked, glancing at him. “Huh?”

He smirked. “You get this little crease in your brow when you’re overthinking something.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I do not.”

“You do,” he insisted, tapping a finger to your forehead in demonstration. “Right here. Deep in thought. Probably overanalyzing everything that happened tonight.”

Your stomach flipped.

You were overthinking it. Overthinking him. Overthinking Gojo, and the weird tension that had lingered between the three of you all night. Geto must have noticed the way your expression shifted, because his smirk softened.

“…You good?” he asked, quieter now.

You hesitated.

You could play it off, pretend everything was fine. But part of you, maybe the part still rattled by the way tonight felt different, didn’t want to.

“…Do you think Gojo’s mad at me?” The words slipped out before you could second guess

them. Geto’s expression didn’t change, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

“No,” he said simply.

You frowned. “Then why was he acting so weird?”

Geto exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.”

You huffed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give you,” Geto said, looking at you now, gaze steady. “Whatever’s going on with Gojo, it’s not my place to say.”

That definitely meant something.

You stared at him, searching for some kind of hint, but Geto just smiled, unreadable as ever.

Before you could press further, a voice cut through the quiet.

“You guys are still out here?”

You turned, and there he was Gojo, standing a few feet away, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his uniform. He must have circled back at some point, because Shoko was nowhere to be seen.

For a split second, his gaze flickered to the jacket on your shoulders. His fingers tightened around the plush keychain in his hand.

“…You took a while ?” he asked, voice light, but there was something off about it.

You swallowed. “Uh. No. We just walked and talked.”

Gojo nodded, like that answer was expected, but the sharp edge in his expression didn’t ease.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” you said, attempting to ignore the strange tension between the three of you.

Gojo just shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, well. I was gonna be real mad if you got kidnapped before I had the chance to make fun of you tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes. “Touching.”

But there was something about the way he said it that made your chest feel tight.

The three of you stood there for a moment, the silence thick between you and then Geto, ever the smooth one, clapped his hands together. “Well. It’s late,” he said easily. “We should probably get inside before Yaga yells at us.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Gojo said nothing. Geto turned toward the dorms, his stride unhurried. But just before he walked past Gojo, he slowed just enough to murmur something under his breath.

You didn’t catch it. But whatever it was made Gojo’s jaw tighten. You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. You could feel whatever was happening here, unspoken and heavy, and it made something in you twist.

“…Night,” you said finally, the weight of the day settling over you.

Geto smiled, easy and warm. “Night.”

Gojo just nodded, but his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure what to make of that. As you finally turned to head inside, the weight of Geto’s jacket still on your shoulders, you had the distinct feeling that tonight had changed something.

.

.

Geto: I like your laugh😽

You: Chat is this rizz !?!

Geto: you just ruined it

Geto: we were having a moment

You: Chat am I cooked?

Geto: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TOO RIGHT NOW

You: chat clip that

.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

.

Gojo: can i try rizzing you up

You: sure

Gojo : PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

.

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˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

“Bet you’re thinkin’ of me while he’s fucking you, huh?”

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader

❧ Need To Know | This story was originally written by me on wattpad with different characters. It got deleted & I moved here.

❧ Contents | afab!reader, explicit nsfw scenes, college non-curse au, toxic altercations, angst, reader lowkey hops around between the two, jealousy, possessiveness, slut activities, gen z references, alcohol, fluff, 18+ scenes, porn w plot, etc.

| Chapters |

1 | Something about you

2 | draws me so close

3 | that it has to

4 | be true.

5 | My hearts light

| @kamiversee | ff status; ongoing | updates; spontaneous— I am on vaycay right now so they’ll be a bit slow. |