sirxaibs

[sirxaibs]

Sanji Vinsmoke X Reader

TRAITOR (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

masterlist

Our little guy is scared he wont be your little guy anymore.

(๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)The sun was shining so brightly it could probably melt the deck boards if you gave it long enough and that was exactly when Tony Tony Chopper knew something suspicious was about to happen.

He was nestled behind a stack of barrels on the Sunny’s upper deck, peeking carefully through a sliver of shadow, his little hooves clenched into small fists. There she was. Lounging on a beach chair like some goddess of the sea, sunglasses pushed up in her hair, wearing one of those shirts that was definitely not doing its due diligence. Her legs were lazily stretched out, one hand behind her head, the other idly twirling a straw in her drink. She looked so cool. So relaxed. So beautiful. Like one of those models from towns they would pass by.

Sanji, with his stupid swishy hair and his dumb fancy shirt with three buttons undone due to the sun. he just had to show off his chest hair, bleh. He strolled across the deck holding a tall, frosty drink in his hand.

Chopper scowled harder, ears twitching.“Stupid Sanji…” he grumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stupid, tall, twirly eyebrowed, fish cooking, flirt face…..” A pause came to chopper as he couldnt think of any other way to diss him “Jerk.”

“There you are, mademoiselle,” Sanji said, placing the drink beside her with a smooth smile. “Your afternoon special: mango and lime iced tea, sweetened just the way you like it.”

“Ohh,” she hummed with a sleepy grin, stretching her arms above her head, “you spoil me.”

Sanji chuckled. “I live to serve.”

“HE’S SUCH A SHOW OFF,” Chopper mouthed silently behind the barrels, glaring.

She took a sip, then glanced up at him, eyes amused. “You even added mint leaves. Fancy.”

“Well, I couldn’t possibly serve a beautiful lady anything less than perfect. It’s not hard when you always look like you need to be spoiled” He gave a low bow.

Chopper slapped a hoof over his mouth to keep from groaning too loudly. “Gross,” he hissed under his breath. “Disgusting. Barf. Blegh.” The reindeer ducked his head behind the barrels, mumbling to himself.

“She used to say I was the cutest on the ship. She used to share her cookies with me. And read medical books with me. But now it’s all ‘Sanji this, Sanji that.’” He kicked a pebble on the deck and muttered, “Stupid eyebrow noodle man. Acting like he’s so smooth. I bet he doesn’t even know her favorite kind of cookie is the cinnamon ones with the little sugar crust.”

Peeking again, he saw her lean over the side of her lounge chair to pull Sanji closer by the wrist. Chopper’s jaw dropped. “What?! What’s happening now!?”

She was whispering something to Sanji, laughing under her breath, and Sanji stupid smug Sanji was grinning like a cat who’d just been given the whole can of fish. Then Sanji reached down and OH. HE TUCKED A STRAND OF HER HAIR BEHIND HER EAR.

“DISGUSTING!!” Chopper shrieked in his mind, face bright red with secondhand embarrassment. “why would she let herself be tainted by that”

She didn’t even smack him. She just smiled at him and kept sipping her drink like it was normal.

Chopper muttered as he pressed his cheeks with his hooves. “shes going to forget about me and ill never hang out with her again. she will never hug me again”

He watched in growing agony as Sanji pulled up a small stool beside her. They started chatting, laughing about whatever. She even nudged his shoulder with her foot at one point and Sanji didn’t fall over screaming about how she touched him like usual he just chuckled and gently pushed her foot away like they’d done this a million times.

“Oh, come on!” Chopper hissed. “KICK HIM KICK HIM” He flopped on his back behind the barrels, limbs spread out in defeat. “I was here first. I was her buddy. We were besties. She used to ask me for snacks, not prince butt over there.”

Suddenly, he jolted up, hooves clenched with determination. “No. I won’t go down like this.” He peeked once more. “Okay, so they’re talking. Big deal. I can talk, too. I’m a doctor. Doctors are smart. Maybe if I casually walk over and mention something complicated, she’ll remember how awesome I am.”

‘Sanji stood up to get her another drink. Now’s my chance!’ Chopper zipped out from behind the barrels and darted down the deck ladder, little hooves a blur. He sprinted toward the lounge chair like it was a battlefield. He was three feet away, already rehearsing something cool about cranial nerve response and then Sanji returned. With a fruit plate. Chopper skidded to a halt and dove behind a potted plant with a loud thud. Neither of them noticed.

Sanji was kneeling beside her now, taking the empty fruit peel from her and tossing it into a small trash bowl like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hand brushed his lightly as she thanked him. She didn’t pull away. Chopper curled into a fuzzy ball, nose wrinkled.

“I hate you,” he muttered at Sanji under his breath, resting his chin on his knees. “You stupid tall blond lady stealing cooking nerd.” He sniffed. “…I also made her tea once. And it had honey she said it was ‘the perfect sweetness.’ But I guess that doesn’t matter to anyone anymore?”

Chopper sighed deeply, the tragic sound of a tiny broken heart. “Fine. I’ll let her have her dumb fruit with her dumb cook for now. But next time,” he pointed at the sky, “She is reading a book with me”

Behind him, laughter continued to echo on the deck warm, familiar, and completely unaware of the tiny jealous doctor hiding just out of view. He tugged his little blue hat down lower over his eyes, still crouched behind the barrel. He didn’t even notice that his cheeks were redder than his nose.

“If she asks where I am,” he muttered, voice cracking a little, “I’m gonna say I was really busy doing doctor stuff. Super important. Too important to drink fruit juice or lounge around or whatever.”

he was going to be the one she shared fruit with. Not that stinky cook. …Though he might still let Sanji cut it. He was really good at that. But only the cutting! Chopper huffed again and disappeared below deck.

(๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑) The kitchen was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional turn of a page. Sunlight streamed in through the window above the sink, casting golden patches across the floor. Chopper lay sprawled comfortably in her lap, his head resting on her thigh, one of her hands idly stroking behind his ears as the other held the book they were reading. This, this was peace.

Finally. He had been waiting all day for this his reading time. She always made time for him. Always knew when he needed a quiet moment. A little warmth. A gentle voice. She was his big sister, as far as he was concerned. Someone he could trust, vent to, cry in front of, and fall asleep against.

He let out a soft, satisfied sigh, curling up a little tighter, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before popping back open just to look at her again.

She hadn’t said much since they sat down. She’d simply walked into the kitchen with a book tucked under her arm, spotted him reading at the table, and smiled.

“Want to finish this with me?” she asked, gently.

And just like that, he was scooped up and placed on her lap like it was his rightful throne. Because it was.

“Of course I do,” he muttered, pretending to sound grumpy even though his tail was practically wagging.

She just chuckled and opened it to the bookmarked page. Now, a few chapters in, she was reading out loud in a calm, warm voice, her tone changing with each character, even making sound effects for dramatic moments. Chopper’s ears twitched in delight with every exaggerated gasp or sneaky villain laugh she threw in.

No Sanji.

Her fingers scratched gently under his chin. “are you scared of the villain,” she teased, glancing down at him with a smirk.

“I am not!” he barked defensively, though he definitely was.

She giggled. “you always get so tense whenever there is a bad guy.”

“Well, someone has to be,” he muttered, shifting slightly and crossing his hooves. “You’d probably fall for some charming bad boy with a tragic backstory if I wasn’t around to keep you grounded.”

She raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Oh really?”

“I’m serious!” he insisted, turning in her lap so he could face her directly, tiny hooves pressing into her stomach for balance. “You need someone who can sniff out nonsense.”

She tapped the tip of his blue nose. “That’s what I have you for, right?”

Chopper’s entire face lit up a warm pink.

“I I mean yeah, obviously,” he stammered. “That’s why I’m here. Not because I care or anything.”

She rolled her eyes fondly and returned to reading, and he curled up again, his face still warm but his heart even warmer. The kitchen door creaked open.

Chopper’s ears twitched. His eye twitched. He knew that sound. “Oi, I smelled fresh tea,” came Sanji’s voice as he stepped into the room, towel slung over his shoulder. “Need a refill, beautiful?”

Chopper immediately snapped upright in her lap, nose scrunched and shoulders raised in defensive puff mode. “She’s busy!” he snapped before she could answer, arms thrown wide like he was shielding her from a poison dart. “We’re reading!”

Sanji blinked at the sight of them.

Then smiled. “Oh, sorry, chopper. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Too late, you did,” Chopper grumbled, tail flicking like an angry cat.

Sanji opened the cupboard anyway, whistling to himself like he wasn’t a walking threat to peace. The reader tried to hold back her laugh, but the amused smile on her face betrayed her. She whispered, “Chopper, he’s just making tea.”

Chopper glared up at her, eyes wide with betrayal. “Today it’s tea. Tomorrow it’s child abandonment”

She snorted. Chopper’s ear twitched. He tried to ignore him. Focus on the story. But his hooves flexed slightly against her lap. she looked up. “I promised Chopper I’d finish it with him this time. You know he hates it when we get interrupted.”

Sanji chuckled, and Chopper hated the way it sounded like he knew he was pouting.

“You’ve read that book, what, five times already?” Sanji asked, the sound of him crossing the kitchen soft but ever present. “Still your favorite?”

Chopper let out a loud exhale through his nose.

“She’s allowed to have favorites,” he grumbled, turning a page with a little too much force. “People who’ve actually read it with her would know that.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “You okay down there?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, but it came out more like a whiny squeak. Sanji leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a dishtowel tossed over his shoulder

“I remember when you used to read that one to me,” Sanji said with a teasing grin.

Chopper froze. She giggled, nudging Chopper lightly with her hand. “well you probably were the first i read too.”

there it was. The dagger. Right between the ribs. Chopper’s head whipped up, face twisted into an expression of sheer betrayal. “You what?”

She blinked down at him, still smiling. “I told you that, didn’t I? Sanji and I go way back. Before even the Going Merry.”

Sanji gave a smug little wave from the stove. “She used to patch me up back when I’d get into fights at the baratie. Thought she was some wandering noble or something the way she acted.”

“And you looked like a stray dog in a too small tux,” she shot back playfully.

They both laughed. Chopper stared at them, absolutely appalled. He scrambled to sit upright in her lap, his little hooves on her thighs, glaring at her. “You knew him before me?!”

She jumped, then gave him a soft smile. “Chopper, of course I did. You joined later, remember?”

“But but you’re mine!” he protested, red faced, nostrils flaring. “I mean not like that! I just you’re my friend! You’re not supposed to have any cooler relationships before me!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I peaked when I met you?”

“Yes!” he shouted without hesitation. “Absolutely! He’s not allowed to come in here acting like he knows all your favorite books and stories and drinks and and stuff!”

Sanji peeked over. “Relax, little man. I’m not trying to steal her from you.”

“You can’t steal what’s already mine!” Chopper huffed. “I’m her book partner!”

She reached down and cupped his cheeks with both hands. “Chopper. You are very important to me. You’re one of the best parts of this crew”

He blinked up at her, sniffling slightly. “Even if he brings you tea and cooks for you and says weird things with his stupid face?”

“whose face are you calling stupid?!???”

“Even then,” she promised, kissing his forehead.

Chopper slumped back against her, victorious but exhausted. “Good. ’Cause I was about to make a full medical report on how badly allergic you are to flirty cooks.”

Sanji just rolled his eyes and slid a plate of cookies onto the table. “Here. Peace offering.”

Chopper eyed the plate. “…Fine. But you have to read the next chapter in a silly voice to make up for it.”

She grinned. “Deal.”

Sanji smirked. “who am I?”

“ the villain,” Chopper growled, pointing at him. so she read on, switching voices and cracking up at her own impressions while Chopper munched cookies and shot Sanji a warning glare every now and then. Just in case.

(๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)Chopper leapt off her lap with all the dramatic energy of someone preparing for a solo mission. His tiny hooves clacked against the kitchen floor, the book they had been reading now sitting closed and momentarily abandoned on the table.

“I’ll be right back!” he called, puffing his chest out. “I forgot the cinnamon cookies we made yesterday they’ll be perfect for this chapter. No touching the book without me!”

She raised both hands in surrender, laughing. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Doctor.”

Sanji, who had just returned from the pantry, chuckled from across the room. “Hurry back or ill take her all for myself”

“Don’t you dare!” Chopper spun around, jabbing a hoof toward him like a dagger. “She needs me! Not you!” he turned and marched off, nose in the air, grumbling something under his breath about “stupid twirly eyebrows” and “stealing all her attention.”

The door closed behind him with a soft click. As soon as it did, she leaned against the counter, head thrown back in laughter. Her chest shook with it, cheeks glowing. “Oh my god,” she said, wiping her eyes. “He gets so jealous. It’s adorable.”

“Little traitor,” Sanji muttered under his breath, but he looked more amused than offended. He placed the knife down and picked up one of the freshly sliced strawberries. “He was being sweet when I gave him cocoa last week. Cried like I gave him gold. Now I get this?”

“he’s just protective,” you offered with a shrug. “He’s been a little shadow lately. Kind of hard to miss how much he likes me.”

“I can’t miss it,” Sanji said, holding the strawberry up. “He nearly stabbed me with a toothpick when I brought you a plate of toast this morning.”

You grinned. “You’re exaggerating.”

“absolutely not”

she giggled. “He acts like I’m gonna be kidnapped or something every time I talk to you for more than three seconds.”

“Can you blame him?” Sanji asked smoothly, sliding a few bright strawberries onto a small porcelain plate. “You’re kind of everyone’s favorite.”

She smiled, still riding the end of her laughter, as she stepped a bit closer to where he stood. Her arms folded over her chest, amusement still sparkling in her eyes. Sanji plucked the ripest strawberry off the plate, holding it between his fingers “Want one?”

Her brows lifted, surprised but curious. “Sure.”

He brought it toward her lips, gaze flicking briefly from her eyes to her mouth and back again. She leaned in, slower than necessary, and bit the strawberry from his fingers, her lips brushing just barely against his skin as she did.

Sanji’s breath caught, just faintly, but he played it cool. His expression didn’t change much except for the small tug at the corner of his mouth, like he was trying not to smile too wide.

“Sweet, huh?” he murmured.

She stepped just a little closer, voice lower now. “Very.”

The air between them seemed to shift. a really weird feeling threading between glances. He didn’t move back. Neither did she. Her fingers brushed lightly along the hem of his jacket that hits the table, eyes still on his.Sanji didn’t move, eyes fixed on you with a gaze that was surprisingly quiet. Less theatrical than usual. Like something unspoken had finally clicked into place. No over the top nosebleeds. No pirouettes of passion.

“I’m hoping you’ll notice,” he replied, voice lower than a whisper.

You blinked. “Notice what?”

“That it’s always sweeter when I’m the one giving it to you.”

“Mr. Prince, aren't you a charmer, once chopper gets back you'll give him a heart attack” she teased quietly.

Sanji chuckled, but his voice had dropped too richer, softer. “Then maybe we should give him something to really panic over.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

He shrugged, stepping just a hair closer himself, their shoulders nearly brushing. “Just saying… you’re even cuter when you’re teasing him. And maybe a little when you’re teasing me, too.”

CLACK CLACK CLACK.

Chopper’s hooves echoed from the hallway. “I got the cookies!” came his excited shout.

She quickly stepped back with a sharp inhale. Sanji gave her a wink. She barely had time to recover before Chopper burst in, proudly holding a small container above his head.

“lets get back into it!!!”

No one looked suspicious. Except for Chopper who immediately squinted at them both. “…Why does it feel like something happened in here?”

She ruffled his hat as he hopped into her lap again. “You always say that.”

“I’m always right, too,” he muttered.

Sanji just whistled innocently. She just smiled, holding the book open again with a strawberry still sweet on her lips.

(๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)Chopper was pacing back and forth outside the galley like a doctor about to deliver a terminal diagnosis. Which, in a way… he was. He had to say something. He couldn’t keep letting this nonsense go on. Not while Sanji kept doing that stupid, flirty, soft voiced thing around you. Not while you kept smiling back like you didn’t realize your attention was slowly being hijacked like a pirate treasure chest.

No. This was important. This was personal.

Chopper’s little hooves stomped the deck with purpose as he swung the door open and marched into the kitchen, a one reindeer intervention team. Sanji, of course, was at the counter, shirt sleeves rolled up, humming to himself while slicing peaches.

“Sanji.”

The cook didn’t even flinch. “Hey there, cotton ball. Want something?”

“No.” Chopper’s tone was sharp. Very un tea like. “We need to talk.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow, finally looking down. Way down. Down to the 2’11” reindeer in a tiny doctor’s hat standing with as much fury as he can give off.

“…Is this about my smoking habits again?” Sanji asked dryly.

Chopper took a deep breath. “It’s about her.”

That got Sanji’s attention. He set the knife down slowly. “Go on.”

Chopper marched up to him, head barely reaching Sanji’s waist, eyes locked and blazing.

“She deserves the best, Sanji! Not some loser flirt who thinks he’s charming just because women don’t slap him on sight!”

Sanji blinked. “Pardon?”

“You heard me!” Chopper said, pointing one tiny hoof directly into Sanji’s thigh. “She’s kind and warm and thoughtful and smarter than you even realize! She plays games with me and gives me cookies and listens to me ramble about red blood cells and doesn’t pretend to understand she actually does! And she makes sure I wear my scarf when it’s cold out and never once has tried to use me as bait during battle like some of you!”

“That was once and you were fine,” Sanji muttered.

Chopper glared harder.

“She deserves someone who isn’t just going to flirt with her and then wander off to compliment the next woman that walks by with long legs and a decent neckline!”

“I don’t wander,” Sanji replied calmly, lighting a cigarette. “I appreciate women. Like a gentleman.”

Chopper’s tiny hoof slapped his own face in disbelief. “You’re missing the point!”

Sanji leaned down now, towering like a polite skyscraper over the small doctor. “No, no, I get your point. You think you’re protecting her from me. But what you don’t get, fluffball…”

He exhaled smoke with a slow, smug grin. “…is that no one is stopping me from flirting with a woman I like.”

Chopper’s jaw dropped. “Are you are you bragging right now?!”

Sanji leaned casually on the counter, looking bored. “I’m informing you.”

“You’re ridiculous!” Chopper shouted, throwing his hooves up. “You think just because you’re tall and have a deep voice and twirl vegetables like a ballerina that you can just flirt with anyone and it’ll work?!”

Sanji raised one eyebrow. “…Yes.”

Chopper stomped. “SHE’S DIFFERENT!”

Sanji’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t respond.

“You can’t treat her like you treat everyone else,” Chopper continued, a little breathless now. “She’s not just another pretty girl passing by. She’s ours. Part of the crew. Part of me.” His voice cracked slightly. “She makes me feel like I’m still her little brother even when I mess up. She’s not some girl you write poems about and then forget a port later!”

Sanji didn’t move. The smoke from his cigarette drifted between them like fog.

Chopper’s voice was softer now. “She’s someone worth holding onto. Someone who deserves more.”

The kitchen went quiet for a moment. Finally, Sanji took a slow breath. Flicked some ash into the tray. And then He crouched all the way down until he was eye level with Chopper.

His smirk was gone. No playful glint in his eye. “…You’re right,” he said, voice low. “She is different.”

Chopper blinked. “And yeah,” Sanji continued, “I flirt too much. I know that. But I also know the difference between a passing crush and someone who makes me want to change how I’ve always been.”

Chopper’s ears twitched.

“I don’t flirt with her because I do it with everyone else,” Sanji said, “I flirt with her because I mean it. And if she ever wanted me to stop, I would.”

Chopper stared. Sanji stood again, stretching his back, the moment of vulnerability already hidden beneath his usual demeanour. “But until then?” He turned with a grin, walking back to the counter. “You’ll have to deal with it, Doc.”

He tossed a peach slice down to Chopper’s hooves.

“For energy. Your next monologue might need it.”

Chopper glared up at him, absolutely fuming. This not how he thought this would go. “…That doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“Didn’t ask you to.”

“You’re on thin ice, cook.” Chopper stormed off in a rage,

The pantry door creaked quietly as you pushed it open. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop at first (really), but you and Sanji had been tucked in the corner near the spice rack, giggling and flirting in your little secret bubble, when Chopper had burst in like a one man rebellion in a child sized hat.

You and Sanji had scrambled. You into the pantry. Sanji into “innocent chef mode.” and Chopper, full of bluster and big feelings, had delivered what could only be described as a heartfelt beatdown.

You’d heard everything.You waited a beat. Two.

Sanji sighed softly and turned back to the counter, like the moment had never happened.

Which was your cue.

So now, here you were stepping into the galley with a soft smile on your face and love pooling in your chest like sunshine through a windowpane.

Sanji hadn’t noticed you yet. He stood at the counter, one hand braced on the wood, the other rubbing the back of his neck, a bit stunned by everything. You could tell from the slight slump of his shoulders that Chopper’s words had hit deep.

Which made what you were about to do even better.

You sprinted two steps and launched yourself onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck, legs around his waist, giggling into his ear.

“My boys love me sooo much~!”

Sanji jumped so hard he almost dropped the knife he’d just picked up. “ah! thought you left”

You snorted into his shoulder, absolutely delighted. “I heard everything,” you murmured, pressing your nose to his skin. He was warm. Always warm.

“You were hiding the entire time?” he asked, setting the knife down and grabbing your thighs to hold you in place. “You just let me get verbally mauled by a miniature moose?”

“I just wanted to see if there was a reason if i had to scold chopper”

“Your perfume’s all over the spice rack. I should have known you never left” he mutters while steadying you.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, pressing a soft kiss there before resting your chin on his shoulder. “You handled him well. ”

Sanji’s arms looped under your legs, effortlessly hoisting you higher. “That’s ‘cause he’s right. He’s got good instincts, even if he’s two feet tall and about to bite my ankles.”

You laughed and tapped his cheek gently. “You really meant all that?”

His voice dropped a little while blushing “Every word.”

You exhaled softly against his collar, smile curling into something gentler than before. “Guess that’s why I’m in love with you?”

Sanji let out a low laugh. “Well I'm in love with you.”

you teased. “All ‘don’t tell the crew yet’ is such BS, ‘I want to take our time, I don’t want to be the center of a love circus on the Sunny.’”

“Because the minute Luffy finds out, he’s going to ask if meat will be at the wedding.”

“…Okay, yeah, fair.”

Sanji set you down on the counter, stepping between your legs and resting his hands at your hips. “You’re worth keeping to myself a little longer,” he said softly. “But not because I’m ashamed.”

Your hand reached up to brush a strand of hair from his eyes. “I know.”

He leaned in, about to kiss you when

“I FORGOT MY SPOON !”

The door slammed back open.

Sanji froze. You froze. Chopper froze in the doorway with his ridiculous novelty spoon raised like a sword… and slowly registered the scene. You, sitting on the counter. Sanji, standing between your legs. Both of you very close. Very suspiciously close. Chopper’s eye twitched.

“…how…. when….”

You winced. “Okay, um Chopper, I can explain ”

“TRAITOR!” Chopper shouted at you, full betrayal in his eyes.

Then he turned to Sanji, pointing his spoon like it was about to channel the wrath of ten thousand thunder gods. “AND YOU ! YOU DON’T DESERVE HER, WOMANIZER!”

Sanji turned red. “That's a big word for elmo!”

Chopper screamed. Then turned and bolted from the room again, yelling over his shoulder:

“I’M TELLING LUFFY!”

You and Sanji stared at the swinging door. “…Well,” you said slowly, “…so much for a secret.”

Sanji groaned, head dropping onto your shoulder.

“what's up with telling ‘dad’”

You snorted, kissed the top of his head, and whispered with a grin. “sorry my love but i guess we should get going”

[sirxaibs]

You know the excuses "oh I didn't shave" when your partner tries to initiate something? Yeah they simply don't work on Sanji.

Not because he doesn't believe them, or he is annoyed by them, or anything, he will just remind you every time that he really, genuinely, strongly, doesn't give a flying fuck.

You didn't shave? He's a starving man, who cares about some hair in his food? He doesn't like wasting good, no, fantastic food love just because there is some hair on it. He doesn't mind helping you shave either!

You smell bad? Well then you can both smell bad and take a good hot and relaxing bath afterwards. Also he did, and still does kind of, live with lots of men with anger issues remember? You think those smell of roses? Sanji is looking RIGHT at Zoro for this one

You have a headache? As if he will let you do anything anyway. You just have to be there, pretty and waiting for him. Sanji did also hear somewhere that orgasms might help with migrates ☝🏽so. Why don't you test it out with his tongue and mouth first?

AFAB - You are on your period? I can help pwincess and he's a pirate. A good sailor will navigate through the red sea! Plus, it's not like blood disturbs him in any way shape or form, same as before he did hear that orgasms may help with cramps... So why not put him to use? That's why he is here after all.

Sanji just doesn't want you to feel so insecure in yourself that "you are not pretty enough" for him because, in his eyes, you are always, always pretty and beautiful for him. Nothing will stop him for lusting after you regardless of what you look, even in the morning when you are a mess you look simply splendid to him, and his dick twitch alive every time you look at him with those pretty eyes and gorgeous smile.

[sirxaibs]

★ ⋆｡°·☁︎ The Love Of My Life

masterlist

Satoru Gojo being an absolute pest to his beautiful girlfriend

conts~ whatever crack gojo has infected the reader with

bonus

[sirxaibs]

tiny little smau bc i’m bored while on a trip (to do yardwork ☹️) and saw how easy it was to make

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Gojo Satoru X Reader

masterlist

★ To all the boys i’ve loved before

[sirxaibs]

PLEASE DO PART 2 OF SAL WITH POPULAR READER IT WAS SO CUTE😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

Sal Fisher X Reader (popular trope)

The Mask

masterlist

Part 1

Chat this is way more tender than showing off the popular stuff. But i hope to bring justice after all this time 😭😭 This is technically a part two, like now months after of getting close. They’re dynamic now is being very friendly and weirdly close because both the reader and Sal are stupid

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚The horror movie wasn’t even that good. The plot was all over the place, the killer had a laughably bad mask, and the jump scares were so predictable that Larry had started mocking them out loud before they happened.

the three of you had ended up crammed into Sal’s bed his tiny, creaky bed pressed shoulder to shoulder under a single threadbare blanket while the glow of the TV flickered dimly across the room. Sal was in the middle, naturally. It started innocently enough. You’d sprawled out across the edge of the mattress first, claiming the wall side because you said it made you feel safe during horror movies. Larry flopped down next to you with zero grace, mumbling about how his ass was falling asleep from sitting on the floor. Sal, caught between the two of you, had hesitated only slightly before sitting, then laying back, sandwiched between you and his best friend.

Now, here you were. Trapped between the cool wall and the even cooler boy you had far too many complicated thoughts about.

You could feel the warmth of Sal’s arm brushing against yours every time he shifted. He was stiff at first, like he was hyper aware of the space or lack of it but over time, he’d relaxed into it, perhaps forgetting he was in between two people with vastly different personal space boundaries. Larry’s knee kept nudging Sal’s leg as he shifted around, while Sal’s hand occasionally bumped yours when he reached to adjust the volume or grab the popcorn bowl.

You weren’t even paying attention to the movie anymore. Your eyes were fixed on the screen, but your brain was a blur focused on how close Sal’s shoulder was to yours.

Now over the past few months, you've gotten very close to the gang. Especially Sal having been the first person to meet out of everyone. Anytime you weren’t with the cheer squad, you can bet your money that you'd be with sal any left over time you have. Though with him so close it made you reflect when you started to have that fuzzy feeling.

“I swear this thing is rigged,” Sal declared, slumping onto the carpet with a thud. “There’s no way you beat me again”

Todd, deadpan, didn’t even glance up from his Game Boy. “You lost. Again. face it sal, when it comes to tech im just better.”

It should’ve been just another silly moment like the dozens you’d already shared. You’d known Sal for over a year now, spent hours beside him investigating things you probably shouldn’t, watching horror movies until sleep claimed one of you first, and wandering the neighborhood talking about everything and nothing.

“I dunno, Todd,” Ash chimed in, laying across the couch upside down with her hair dangling off the edge. “Kinda feels like demonic assistance.”

Sal pointed a dramatic finger at her. “Thank you. Finally, someone with eyes.”

You snorted from your spot on the beanbag chair. “You sure it’s not just your lack of hand eye coordination? Or the fact that you panic every time the blocks get fast?”

Sal propped himself up on one elbow, mask tilted just enough to show the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll have you know, I am a master of panic. I’ve built my whole life around it.”

“Clearly,” you teased. “You died like three times in under a minute.”

“sick of you to call me out like this in front of my peers,” he huffed. “I’m a sensitive soul.”

Ash cackled. “You’re about as sensitive as a brick.”

Sal threw a pillow at her. “I thought you were on my side you freak”

Ash gasped. “Y/n has my heart, try harder bitch”

You raised your hands, grinning. “Don’t blame me for your failures”

Sal turned toward you, sitting cross legged now. “So what were you both talking about”

“Kyle!” Ash laughed. “Yes, and apparently he wrote Jessica a love poem that he accidentally printed on the back of the science quiz handouts.”

Todd finally looked up, blinking. “That was real? I thought that was a formatting error.”

Sal looked like he was about to pass out from joy. “That’s the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard.”

You burst into laughter again, curling into the beanbag as your sides started to ache. You barely noticed the way your eyes drifted to Sal how relaxed he looked. His legs sprawled out, one hand resting lazily over his knee, the other tossing a Cheez It at Ash’s face. His hair was slightly messier than usual, and his voice was rough from all the laughing. He looked so alive, just glowing in his own sarcastic, effortless way. You’d spent so many afternoons like this at his side during investigations, trading secrets, hanging out until your eyes drooped shut.

Well. Your heart did something. But the second you realized your stare might last too long, Ash turned to you and squinted. “Y/N, you’ve been weirdly quiet. What’s that face about?”

You instantly waved her off, grabbing a nearby pillow and throwing it at her. “Please. im just having flash backs to class, Ms. Peterson’s insane obsession with sweater vests.” change the direction of this questioning worked effortlessly.

Ash laughed. “No, seriously, what is up with that? She wore a glittery one last Friday. Like bedazzled with rhinestones.”

Todd chimed in, glancing up. “Technically, those weren’t rhinestones. They were imitation crystal beads.”

Ash blinked at him. “How do you even know that?”

“I read the morning announcements. There was a fundraiser.”

Sal snorted. “You guys are just jealous you can’t rock a crystal bedazzled vest like Peterson.”

You leaned forward with a grin. “Oh, yeah? Prove it. Come to school tomorrow with a glittery vest, Fisher.”

He turned to you with mock sincerity. “Y/N, if I had one, I would burn it in an instant, dont try me”

You giggled. “Sal, I dare you to wear a bedazzled vest next Friday.”

“Absolutely not,” he said immediately. “I have standards.”

Ash leaned over. “Even if we pay you?”

“Especially if you pay me. I won’t be bribed into that shit.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I am plenty fun. I just don’t want to look like a disco ball during third period.”

You laughed, and it slipped out easier than usual. That warmth was still there in your chest, but you ignored it. Let it settle. You nudged Ash again, changing the subject quickly. “Anyway. Did you hear about what happened during gym today?”

Ash lit up instantly. “Oh my god, yes. Mike tried to do a backflip and ended up hitting Coach in the face!”

“He what?!” Sal exclaimed,

Todd shook his head, lips twitching. “And I missed this?”

“Coach had a whistle in his mouth and choked on it,” you said, trying not to wheeze. “They had to do the Heimlich.”

Ash added, “Mike cried and swore he was just trying to get the attention of a girl in class.’”

Sal was giving a deadpan “I can’t take any of you seriously anymore.”

“That’s fair,” you said with a grin, feeling the moment settle in like a warm blanket. You didn’t mention the way Sal’s voice sounded when he was laughing like that or how he stole glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. Anyways that was a small moment that made you realize you might’ve had it bad for the guy beside you. Like to preface though, Since the beginning you've always thought he was cute.

Larry, on the other hand, was having the time of his life.

“Dude, did you see that?” Larry said, laughing with his mouth half full of popcorn. “The guy just walked right into the room with the creepy ass doll like he wanted to die.”

Sal gave a small laugh. “You’d do the same thing.”

“Nah, I’d throw hands with the ghost.”

“You can’t punch ghosts, dumbass,” Sal murmured, tone dry.

“Bet.”

You snorted softly, stifling your laugh with the back of your hand. Sal turned his head slightly at the sound, and for a second, your eyes met. His hair was slightly messy from leaning back, the soft blue strands catching the glow of the TV light. You felt your breath catch for a moment before you turned back to the screen. The silence that followed was heavier than it should have been. Sal looked away first. Another jump scare came on some screeching violin noise and a face popping up in the mirror. You jumped a little out of instinct, and your hand brushed against Sal’s again. This time, neither of you pulled away.

Larry didn’t notice. He was too busy making ghost noises and tossing popcorn into the air to catch in his mouth.

“I’m just saying,” he mumbled through another handful, “this killer sucks. If I were in this movie, I’d be the final dude, for sure.”

“Final girl,” you corrected automatically, teasing. “That’s the trope.”

“I’d be the final badass, dont bring gender into this.”

Sal let out a quiet chuckle. You turned your head just enough to glance at him again. He looked relaxed now, nestled between the two of you, his bangs falling over the edge of his mask. The bed dipped slightly beneath your hips, everything too close and far too warm, but you didn’t want to move. You could feel the slow, even rhythm of his breathing. His fingers curled slightly when they brushed yours again accidental, maybe but they didn’t move away. You didn’t either.

Your voice was quiet when you spoke next. “I thinks it’s pointless to pay attention to whatever plot they're trying to do.”

Sal hummed softly. “You’re right.”

Larry, sprawled at the foot of the bed now, his long legs hanging off the edge, yawned. “You guys wanna turn it off?”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We can let it play out”

The movie droned on in the background. Some character screaming. A door slamming. The warmth of Sal beside you, the ridiculous commentary from Larry, the soft creak of the old bed beneath your bodies.

None of it made sense.

it felt like the kind of night you’d remember for a long time. when Sal’s pinky finally, cautiously, hooked around yours, You didn’t let go.

Looking back af the screen. The movie had reached a new low. The antagonist had suddenly sprouted wings, apparently possessed by the ghost of some ancient demon priest who spoke entirely in Latin. Larry had just finished mocking the last jump scare with an exaggerated scream and a pillow swing before everything finally, mercifully, quieted down again.

SNNOOOORRRT.

The sound cut through the room like a chainsaw through silence. You and Sal both flinched instinctively, heads snapping in unison toward the other side of the bed. There, sprawled diagonally across the mattress like a starfish, was Larry. His mouth hung open just enough to catch flies, and one leg was draped off the side. His chest rose and fell with each obnoxiously loud snore each one somehow louder and more theatrical than the last.

You stared at him for a moment in stunned silence. Then glanced at Sal. Sal was already looking at you. You didn’t even try to hold it in you burst into giggles, muffling the sound against your hand. “Holy crap,” you whispered between snorts, “is he alive? That sounds like a damn chainsaw.”

Sal blinked a few times, then snorted too. “He does that when he sleeps in weird positions. Sometimes I have to check he’s not choking on his own tongue.”

That only made you laugh harder, your shoulder bumping into Sal’s as you leaned against the wall behind you for support. Larry shifted slightly, letting out another guttural snore, then smacked his lips and mumbled something incoherent like, “Nah, man…tuna doesn’t even talk…” before rolling over.

You wiped a tear from your eye, still grinning. “I really like your friends.”

Sal turned to look at you, still smiling faintly. “…Yeah?”

You nodded, the laughter slowly settling into a fond warmth in your chest. “They’re so weird. Like, weird weird. But in the best way. It’s kinda refreshing.”

Sal didn’t reply immediately, but he looked at you with a softness you hadn’t seen all night quiet, thoughtful, a little shy. “They grow on you,” he finally said, voice low. “I wouldnt trade them”

You gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re all a mess, but I love it. It’s… nice. Being here.”

He looked down briefly, then back at you. The glow of the TV flickered over the curve of his mask, casting little shadows across the stitched mouth. “…It’s nice having you here too,” he murmured.

For a beat. Just sat there his pinky still lightly hooked around yours, Larry still snoring like a freight train beside you, and the TV screen casting a soft light across the room full of haunted masks, scattered notebooks, and a lingering warmth that neither ghosts nor horror movies could quite touch. in that quiet moment, the scariest thing wasn’t the movie on screen. It was how much you didn’t want this to end.

The movie finally ended with a whimper literally. Some distant scream echoed through a crumbling church, the screen cut to black, and the credits rolled in awkward silence, accompanied by a weirdly cheerful piano score that absolutely didn’t fit the vibe. Sal reached for the remote, turned the volume down, and let out a soft breath. “That was… something.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, trying not to laugh. “Top tier trash.”

“Totally gonna recommend it to Todd.”

You turned your head slowly toward him “You’re evil.”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “He made me sit through that documentary on haunted ink last week. This is payback.”

You let out a soft snort and leaned your head back against the wall again. The room had grown quiet, aside from the occasional creak of the floorboards and the SNOOOORRRT from the other side of the bed. Larry had somehow managed to rotate even more in his sleep. His arm now stretched across Sal’s chest like he was guarding him from a night demon, one leg slung over the edge of the mattress, the other pinning your ankle down like it was holding a prize hostage.

You blinked down at the limb. “Uh…”

Sal looked too. You both slowly scanned the human barricade between freedom and the floor.“…We’re stuck,” Sal said plainly.

“Caged,” you whispered dramatically. “By the beast.”

Sal stifled a laugh, trying not to move too much under Larry’s deadweight arm. “I can’t even feel my side anymore.”

You poked Larry’s leg with your toe. “I think his soul left his body like ten minutes ago. He’s in another realm now.”

“He’s in his own world,” Sal said, voice light with amusement. You looked at him and smiled. It was easy to joke with him like this. Easy to sit here in the dark, with your arms lightly pressed together, and the weight of Larry’s unconscious limbs holding you hostage.

“Guess we’re staying here, huh?” you murmured.

“Looks like it.” Neither of you moved. Sal’s arm was warm where it rested close to yours, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest under Larry’s draped arm. The glow from the TV dimmed a little more as the credits faded to black completely.

You sighed. “Not the worst place to be trapped.”

“…Yeah,” he said quietly.

Then Larry mumbled in his sleep “Tell ‘er she forgot the waffles…”

You both burst out laughing again, trying not to shake the bed too much. The laughter faded slowly, melting into a gentle hush the screen now pitch black, and Larry… well, Larry was definitely somewhere deep in dreamland.

You glanced down at the tangle of limbs surrounding you, then turned your head toward Sal with a dramatic sigh. “Well,” you said in a resigned voice, “it seems we have no choice.”

Sal tilted his head, mask catching a faint gleam from the now dim TV light. “…No choice?”

You gave him a mock serious look, eyes wide. “Fate has spoken. We’ve been claimed by the bed. Escape is impossible.”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “So what you’re saying it’s bedtime now?”

“I mean, what other options do we have?” you gestured at Larry’s arm sprawled over his chest and leg flopped across your own. “Unless you’ve got secret teleportation powers you’ve been hiding from me, I think we’re stuck in here for the long haul.”

Sal chuckled softly, shoulders shaking just a bit beneath the weight of Larry’s dead arm hug. “You’re not wrong.”

You wiggled a little, adjusting yourself beneath the blanket and the wall of limbs. “Okay, if we’re stuck here, I’m gonna get at least some comfort out of this.”

Then, before you could second guess yourself, you shifted closer, turning slightly until your head gently rested against Sal’s chest. your temple pressed near his shoulder, nestled just enough to be cozy without smothering. It gave both of your sides a little more breathing room from the dreaded Larry Trap™, but it also… well. It felt nice.

Sal went still. Not tense, exactly. You could feel the way his breath caught for a second before slowly evening out again. His body was warm beneath you, the gentle rise and fall of his chest oddly soothing against your cheek. The soft cotton of his shirt smelled faintly like laundry detergent and something you could only describe as Sal.

Then, in that low, careful tone he used when he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming “…This okay?”

You nodded a little against him. “Yeah. It’s nice. You’re comfy.”

Sal huffed a quiet laugh barely more than a breath but you felt it, vibrating faintly through his chest. His hand, still resting near yours beneath the blanket, inched just slightly closer. You felt your eyelids grow heavier, lulled by the warmth, the softness, the strange, peaceful intimacy of being squished between a snoring cryptid and someone who made your heart beat a little faster every time he so much as looked your way. “…Night, Sal,” you murmured sleepily.

“Night,” he whispered back.

A few quiet minutes passed. Your body had started to melt into sleep heavy, warm, and full of that fuzzy comfort that only came when you truly felt safe. But something stirred just enough to nudge you back toward wakefulness. You blinked your eyes open slowly. The TV had shut off completely now. The shadows in the room were soft, shifting slightly with the moonlight coming in through the window. You tilted your head just a little, eyes drifting up.

Sal was still awake. He hadn’t moved much barely breathed too deeply but you could feel it in the tension in his chest, the way his hand hadn’t quite relaxed beside yours, and most of all… in the quiet presence of his mask still sitting snug against his face.

You stared at it for a second, unsure why it pulled at your heart the way it did. Not because it was strange or unwelcome it was him, after all. But because he was still holding onto something. Even here. Even now. Not that you minded not really. It was part of him. But… even now? When everything else felt so relaxed?

Your voice came out as a soft whisper, so quiet it barely stirred the air between you. “…Hey, Sal?” He hummed softly in response, his chest rising gently beneath your cheek. “…Are you comfortable sleeping in it?”

There was a pause. A beat. You felt him shift, maybe in surprise. Then, quietly, he murmured, “Yeah. I’m fine with it on.”

You didn’t press. You didn’t ask why or if he was sure. You just gave him a soft smile, voice low and kind as your hand lightly brushed his side. “Okay. Just… wanna make sure you’re comfortable, too.”

The silence returne You didn’t expect him to say anything else. You didn’t even lift your head. Just closed your eyes again and let yourself settle back into the rise and fall of his breathing. Soft movement. You felt his hand slowly rise near his face, and heard it the faint sound of buckles. A click. A slide of straps.

Your heart fluttered. You stayed there, resting against him, He laid it down beside the bed, the soft thud of it muffled by the blanket. His chest exhaled fully in a mildly shaky way beneath you for the first time that night.

His arms moved. Then one wrapped gently around your shoulders, the other folding beneath your arm, pulling you just slightly closer just enough that your side was pressed into his, Instead, you felt his hand slide gently around your shoulder, the other tucking under your back as he pulled you in carefully, cautiously, like you were something fragile and precious. Your head nestled closer beneath his chin, skin against skin now. The warmth of his cheek rested near the crown of your head. His heart beat slow and steady beneath your ear, and the faintest brush of his breath stirred your hair as he held you like it was the first time he’d let himself truly breathe.

“I don’t… usually do this,” he murmured, voice barely more than a thread.

“I know,” you whispered.

your fingers lightly curled into the fabric of his shirt, your eyes fluttering shut again as sleep tugged at you like waves lapping against the shore. “…Thank you,” he whispered, so soft you might’ve imagined it.

You slept.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚Morning crept in slowly through Sal’s bedroom window, pale light casting soft streaks across the floor. The warmth of the sun bled into the room, brushing over clothes on the floor, empty snack bags from the night before, and a muted horror movie DVD case teetering on the edge of the nightstand.

The room was still peaceful. Well… until a certain someone began to stir. Larry groaned as he stretched, hair a complete mess, one leg still draped over part of the bed like a corpse washed ashore. He scratched at his head with a yawn that could wake the dead, blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted to the daylight.

“Ugh… why the fuck does my back hurt so much,” he muttered to himself.

Then he paused, eyes drifting lazily to his left… and stopped cold. Sal was still fast asleep, flat on his back, lips parted slightly as he breathed evenly. And you were right on top of him, curled up against his chest like a cat, arm tucked across his stomach, one leg haphazardly resting over his. Sal’s arms were wrapped loosely around your shoulders, and his mask Gone. Completely gone.

Larry’s eyes widened, and a wide, giddy grin began to tug at his face. “…No. Freaking. Way.”

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand like it was the Holy Grail, and with the stealth of someone absolutely used to sneaking snacks at 2 a.m., he held it up and started snapping photos like a proud parent.

Click. One from the side your cheek smooshed into Sal’s chest.

Click. One a little closer Sal’s fingers curled softly into your hoodie sleeve.

Click click click.

Larry was giggling like a little girl, nearly silently, shaking with laughter as he zoomed in on the most disgustingly adorable sleep cuddle combo he’d ever seen. “Homeboy is getting it while I was in bed, Im kinda grossed out” he whispered to himself.

You stirred first. A sleepy groan left your throat as your eyes fluttered open, still half lidded and dazed. You blinked up in confusion, chin still resting against Sal’s chest. “…Larry?”

Sal, still dozing, gave a small hum, barely lifting his head. Larry froze, phone held in midair like he’d been caught robbing a bank.

Then your eyes focused. Your voice, raspy and heavy with sleep, came out in a groggy warning: “…Are you taking pictures?”

Larry grinned. “Don’t mind me. Just documenting the rare and elusive Wholesome Sal Cuddle Beast in his natural habitat.”

Sal groaned beneath you burying his face into your hair. “Larry…”

You let your head drop back to Sal’s chest with a sigh reaching your arm out. “gimme your phone.”

“No can do,” Larry said, flopping back onto the bed dramatically with a grin so smug it could power a city. “This is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen. You two are like… its too early to compare but you both are so gross right now.”

You groaned and hid your face, too sleepy and too cozy to even fight it. Sal, still half asleep, mumbled, “This fucker.”

Larry stood at the doorway now, still grinning like a maniac as he prepared to head down the hall probably to brag to himself in the kitchen about the goldmine of photos he just captured. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned back and said with a finger gun, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… which admittedly is very little. So, uh, good luck!”

And with that, he disappeared down the hallway cackling to himself. The door clicked shut behind him, and the room settled into silence once again.

The warmth returned almost instantly quiet, unhurried, as if the space itself wanted to return you both to the peaceful cocoon of earlier. You blinked sleepily and slowly tilted your head up from where it rested on Sal’s chest, face still nestled in the soft fabric of his shirt. Your voice was hoarse from sleep, barely above a whisper, warm with affection and the comfort of a morning that didn’t need rushing.

“…Good morning.”

Sal didn’t respond right away. His eyes were already open watching you and he smiled faint, just a curl of the lips. “Good morning,” he whispered back, voice still low from sleep, a touch dazed. “You’re still here.”

You gave a soft, sleepy laugh. “Mmhmm. Guess I didn’t sleepwalk out.”

But the moment didn’t linger quite as simply as that. Because suddenly it hit him. The air shifted in his chest. His eyes flickered slightly, darting away. His arms, still loosely around you, twitched like he was trying to pull them back without making it obvious. He sucked in a shallow breath. The mask. He wasn’t wearing his mask. His skin scarred and marred, one side melted and uneven, parts of his face twisted in ways no teenager should have to learn to accept was all out. In plain view. For you to see. His heart began to pick up, beating against your chest, almost trembling. He must look disgusting. Horrifying. Why didn’t he think about it? Larry saw fine. Whatever. Larry didn’t care. Hes known him long enough that hes seen him before. But you? You were still here. Still on him. Still close enough to see every detail.

His body stiffened ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move, either. Just braced for whatever was coming whether it was a flinch, a quiet “I’ll let you get dressed,” or the worst… silence. That dreaded kind of silence.

But it never came. Because when he finally risked looking down at you again… You were just looking at him. Softly. Your eyes were lidded still from sleep, but they held nothing except calm like this was the most natural thing in the world. Like the boy in front of you, as he was, didn’t need to apologize for anything. Your hand gently moved, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw in the quietest touch.

“Hi,” you murmured, still smiling faintly.

Sal’s breath caught in his throat.

He couldn’t say anything at first. His throat felt tight, like emotion had quietly wrapped around it while he wasn’t paying attention. He blinked a few times unsure if he was trying to keep the moment or convince himself it was real.

“…You’re not looking away,” he finally said, barely a whisper.

“Why would I?” you replied, your voice just as soft. “It’s just you.”

That simple sentence held the weight of a thousand reassurances.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚The sun hung high over the school courtyard, casting sharp shadows on the cracked pavement of the outdoor cheer practice area. The sounds of sneakers squeaking, laughter, and upbeat music from someone’s speaker filled the air as you and the rest of the cheer team moved through another round of drills.

Your body moved on autopilot now high knees, arms tight, posture upright. The routine was muscle memory, but the heat made your shirt cling to your back and your ponytail stick annoyingly to your neck. Still, the energy around you was infectious.

“Alright, ladies, one more time!” Coach Hollins called out, hands clapping to the beat. “I want clean arms and sharper snaps this time. Let’s move like we mean it!”

You gave a quick nod to the two girls on either side of you Riley and Jae before falling into formation again. The team snapped into motion at the coach’s count.

“One two three, up!”

You lifted your leg into a high kick, arms raised into a perfect ‘V,’ face determined despite the burn in your thighs. Riley to your left let out a huff, shaking her head with a grin.

“You ever get tired of this?” she muttered under her breath.

“Only every second of every minute,” you whispered back, lips twitching upward.

“I heard that!” Coach Hollins barked playfully, but didn’t stop the routine.

After a few more counts, you dropped out of the line and moved to the sidelines with your small stunt group. You all grabbed water bottles and flopped onto the grass, sweat dripping, lungs still catching up.

Jae flopped dramatically onto her back beside you. “I swear this heat is trying to kill us.”

“Pretty sure it’s just the coach,” you said with a smirk, sipping from your bottle. “Sun’s innocent.”

“Oh please,” she groaned. “At this point I’d let the sun fight me. I’m already halfway dead.”

A couple other teammates laughed and plopped down beside you both, forming a loose circle of exhausted girls lying across the grass, limbs sprawled, stretching out like starfish in a sea of overtraining.

“I miss the days when practice meant jumping around for twenty minutes and eating orange slices,” Riley sighed dramatically. “Now it’s like military conditioning disguised with pom poms.”

One of the freshmen piped up, “Wait, you guys had snacks?”

Riley blinked. “You don’t?”

“Okay, okay,” said Kayla, dropping her pom poms onto the grass, “ I swear, if Trent looks at me like that one more time during math class, I’m gonna combust.”

The girls erupted into laughter around you. You leaned back onto your hands, legs stretched in front of you, catching your breath.

“hes a whore dont do it girl” another girl Jessie teased with a grin, nudging Kayla with her elbow.

“Shut up!” Kayla squeaked, face flushing.

You snorted softly and glanced at the sky for a second, internally giggling at how ridiculously teen movie this all felt. Sitting in your uniform on the grass, sweaty and giddy, talking about boys like it was the end of the world if someone didn’t text back in five minutes.

“I’m just saying,” Kayla continued with faux seriousness, “there’s something about a guy who has brains and can fuck so good at the same time. That’s dangerous.”

“He’s not even that cute,” murmured Bree, twirling a strand of her hair. “Now, Brayden from the soccer team? That’s boyfriend material.”

“Nooo,” you chimed in, shaking your head, “Brayden talks like a sentient protein shake.”

Laughter bubbled again as Bree clutched her chest dramatically. “hes hot give me a break!”

“Okay, okay, Y/N, who would you date if you had to pick?” Kayla asked, eyes narrowing with mock seriousness. “And don’t say no one. We’re not letting you wiggle out of this.”

You pursed your lips, pretending to think hard. “Hmm… does Sal Fisher count?”

Dead silence for a beat. Then the girls burst into laughter again slightly more confused this time. “Oh my god, is that the kid with the blue hair and the uh, the face thing?” Jessie asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Yeah, the one who always wears that mask,” Bree added, stretching her legs. “You actually know him?”

“Sort of,” you shrugged, smiling to yourself. “He’s cool. Quiet, but funny in a weird way.”

The girls exchanged looks, not rude just kind of mystified. “I mean, I guess that’s kind of sweet,” Kayla said, shrugging. “But like… your group’s super different. No offense.”

“None taken,” you said brightly. “Weird’s kind of our whole brand.” They laughed again, and just like that, the moment moved on. You sat back again as the conversation turned to homecoming rumors and some sophomore drama involving lockers and glitter bombs.

The break didn’t last long Coach called for partner drills after another few minutes, and soon you were back on your feet, clapping along to counts, running through pyramid formations, and adjusting grips and stances.

Your muscles ached, sweat trailed down your spine, and the sun felt like it was trying to kiss your skin off but the rhythm of the team, the shouts of encouragement, the shared momentum it kept you going. Even if no one said it aloud, you were proud to be a part of this group.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚The group was cutting through the courtyard, skirting the edge of the cheer practice field on their way to Todd’s house. Ash was in the middle of one of her trademark complaints animated, relentless, and incredibly specific.

“I’m telling you, this guy in biology acts like smiling would kill him. I said one sarcastic thing, and he looked at me like I burned his childhood home to the ground.”

Todd nodded sympathetically. “Sounds like someone with zero sarcasm immunity.”

Larry popped a piece of gum into his mouth and muttered, “Sounds like someone who’s intimidated by a girl with actual brain cells.”

Ash smirked. “Damn right.”

Sal had been quiet, walking just a step behind them, hands in his hoodie pockets. But when they rounded the corner near the cheer practice field, something pulled at his attention.

The music blaring from a cheap speaker. The shuffle of sneakers on grass. The high pitched yelps and laughter. he saw you. You were within practice with the squad, bouncing through a set of drills. It was chaotic, like it always was during this part of practice, and your ponytail whipped around as you dropped into a set. There was a brief moment of clumsiness you tripped over someone’s foot and went tumbling backwards into the grass with a shout.

Sal instinctively took a step forward. From across the field, he watched you burst into laughter. The kind that made your shoulders shake. Your teammates were cracking up, helping you up, brushing you off. You weren’t embarrassed just glowing. Hair a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling.

Sal stopped walking completely. That’s when Larry noticed.

“Anyway, I told him if he ever tried to talk over me again, I’d shove ” Ash was cut off when suddenly, Larry slapped a hand over her mouth.

“MMPH ?!”

He didn’t say a word just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and slowly turned her head in the direction of Sal.

“Look,” Larry whispered dramatically, the grin already forming at the corners of his mouth. “Look.”

Ash squinted. “What am I oh my god.”

Todd caught on and paused beside them.

From where they were standing, Sal was still. Not a single movement. His body was slack, hands relaxed in his pockets, head slightly tilted in your direction. The blue of his eyes was sharper, softer somehow behind the holes in his mask. Even if his expression was hidden behind the black and white plate… something in his posture said everything.

Larry leaned down, whispering like he’d just discovered a hidden species in the wild.

“Dude,” Larry said, grinning ear to ear. “He is so grown up and in love.”

“I didn’t know you could radiate heart eyes,” Ash whispered. “But he’s doing it.”

Todd, adjusting his glasses, studied Sal like he was reading a silent language. “yearning has become a person guys.”

“Yeah, he looks like a guy who just found religion,” Larry muttered.

Sal hadn’t moved. He didn’t even realize his friends had stopped. His gaze was fixed watching you wipe grass from your cheer skirt while laughing breathlessly with your teammates. Even behind the mask, they could tell his whole body was tuned in to you.

Larry smirked and elbowed Ash. “Ten bucks says he doesn’t even know he stopped walking.”

Ash grinned. “Twenty says he doesn’t even remember we’re here.”

Then, just as you glanced in his direction, Sal jolted slightly snapped out of it. You met eyes from across the field. You grinned and gave a short wave. Sal blinked… then raised a hand and gave the tiniest wave back before quickly shoving both hands into his hoodie pocket again.

His friends didn’t miss that either.

Ash snorted. “Yep. Fully gone. He’s toast.”

Larry grinned wickedly. “Imagine being so whipped your body just turns into a statue”

Sal turned toward them, eyes narrowing behind the mask. “…What?”

“Nothing,” Larry said, throwing an arm over Sal’s shoulders as they started walking again. “Just admiring the view. Cheerleading’s real educational this time of year.”

Ash winked. “Super enlightening.”

Todd patted Sal’s back. “Don’t worry. We’ll all act surprised when you confess.”

Sal grumbled under his breath, hoodie pulled tighter over his head. “You guys suck massive balls” But even as they walked away, his head turned one last time. As the group was finally peeling away from the edge of the field, Larry tossing a stick up and catching it while Ash continued her rant, they were just about to pass behind the school building when

“Hey! Todd!”

Your voice rang out over the grass, bright and cheerful, cutting through the late afternoon buzz. They all turned. You jogged over, ponytail bouncing, the edge of your cheer skirt still speckled with grass stains from your earlier fall. Your cheeks were a little flushed from the drills, but you hardly looked winded.

Todd perked up immediately. “Oh hey! What’s up?”

You stopped in front of him, a little breathless but grinning. “I started the physics homework, and I’m already in over my head. Can I go over it with you sometime this week? I promise I’ll bring snacks as a bribe.”

Todd chuckled, already reaching into his backpack. “You don’t even have to bribe me. I’ll text you the notes later and we can meet later, if you want?”

“That would be perfect,” you beamed. “You’re the best, Todd.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he teased with a little smile.

From behind him, Larry whispered theatrically, “Todd’s getting all the love today.”

Ash folded her arms. “As he should. He’s the only one who’s still passing any science class.”

But before you could respond, a sharp whistle blew from the field. Your coach was standing there, arms crossed, clearly waiting. You cringed slightly. “Whoops. Duty calls.”

You started jogging backward toward the field but called over your shoulder with a laugh, “I’ll see you dorks later!”

Larry clutched his chest dramatically. “She says with affection.”

Ash gave a salute. “Go, queen.”

Then you turned slightly, catching Sal’s eyes as you took a few more steps away. He hadn’t said anything hadn’t moved. He was just watching again, quietly, that unreadable expression hidden behind his mask. But his eyes… You smiled at him gently, a little softer than before. “Sal,” you said, “come over tonight, okay?”

He blinked once. “…Okay.”

Your grin widened just a little. And with that, you spun back around and jogged to join your teammates on the field, already calling an apology to your coach as you ran. The group watched in silence for a beat. As you disappeared back onto the field, Sal remained rooted in place like he’d just taken a mild electric shock completely still, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly tense, though his expression was unreadable beneath the mask.

Larry, however, was already side eyeing him He stepped closer, squinting at Sal like he was trying to solve a puzzle he already knew the answer to. “So… you gonna tell me what that was, or should I just assume she invited you over to ‘study’?”

Sal blinked, slow and cautious. “She just said to come over later.”

Larry let out a low whistle and raised his brows. “Mmmhm. That’s how it starts, man. First it’s ‘come over,’ then it’s ‘sit on my bed,’ then suddenly both of you are pregannt”

Sal sighed. “It’s not like that.”

Larry gave him a lazy grin and elbowed him lightly. “Dude. Come on. You got the invite. That’s grounds FOR WHATEVER. You know how many dudes would sell their souls for a girl to say that to them with even half that softness?”

Todd wandered over, arms crossed and smirking. “It was suspiciously tender.”

Larry gave a mock thoughtful hum. “I’ll bring a flask. And condoms. Not for him. Just in case she realizes what a repressed weirdo he is and I gotta pick up the slack.”

Sal turned his head, deadpan. “You’re disgusting.”

Larry grinned, absolutely unbothered. “And yet, somehow still your best friend. Funny how that works.”

He leaned in a bit, dropping his voice into a mock serious tone. “Okay but real talk her place, alone, after school? foreplay waiting to happen. You sure you’re ready for that? What are you gonna do when she sits too close and your brain short circuits?”

Sal rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno. Talk?”

Larry snorted. “Pfft. Classic. You better hope you don’t sit on the bed first or she’s gonna think you’ve got moves.”

Todd adjusted his glasses. “let the man breathe, I think that's enough teasing for right now”

Ash smiled. “Yeah! itll be all good, youre always at her place anyways, I dont see why this is anything new.”

Larry nodded sagely. “Look, man, I want you to scream into your phone the minute after you leave’”

Sal groaned, clearly regretting not disappearing with you when he had the chance. “Why do I even talk to you.”

Larry slung an arm over his shoulder. “Because I’m the only one giving you the talk no one else will. You’re entering sacred territory, my guy. The Bedroom Zone. That’s where the hot girls live.”

Sal dragged a hand down his face. “It’s just a casual hangout.”

Larry raised a brow. “Sure. Just like how ‘Netflix and chill’ is about movie appreciation.”

Ash cracked up, Todd chuckled, and Larry gave Sal one last smirk. “Look, if she offers you snacks and puts on a movie? Congrats. You’re halfway to a relationship you won’t admit you’re in for nine months.”

with that, he started walking ahead, hands in his pockets, calling back over his shoulder, “Don’t forget deodorant! And maybe brush your hair this time!” Sal stood there for a beat longer, ears pink, before quietly following, a small, reluctant smile twitching beneath the edge of his mask.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚Your apartment door clicked shut behind you as you kicked your shoes off with a groan that could’ve belonged to someone three decades older.

“Finally,” you muttered, dragging yourself toward the couch like it owed you money. “If I had to chant Hot to go one more time, I was going to throw myself into traffic.”

Sal stepped inside a few seconds later, quiet as usual, closing the door gently behind him. His shoes made a soft thump as he set them by the mat, and he trailed behind you like a shadow familiar, unobtrusive, calm. He always did tend to come over after practice when he could. It wasn’t a thing you had ever needed to explain. He just showed up, like gravity, and you always opened the door like you were expecting him. Because you were.

You dropped onto the couch with a flop, hair sticking to the back of your neck from all the sweat and yelling. “My legs are spaghetti. My soul has left my body. ”

Sal chuckled under his breath, then wandered further in, eyes scanning the room like he always did even though nothing ever changed. It was part habit, part quiet comfort. Your apartment was small, warm, dimly lit. Blankets were folded on the armrest. Your stupid lava lamp was bubbling peacefully on the shelf. The place smelled faintly of vanilla and shampoo and you. Which wouldn’t normally bother him. Except now Larry’s stupid voice was in his head like a mosquito trapped in a tin can. Sal blinked.

Right. Couch. You were on the couch. Not the bed. Totally normal. Sal watched you from the doorway for a moment, something amused in the angle of his head, He shifted a little awkwardly, standing there for a second too long before walking over and settling into the other end of the couch. He usually did that, too always a respectful amount of space, always calm and quiet. But tonight his back was a little straighter. His shoulders a little stiffer. His brain a little louder.

then quietly walked over and lowered himself onto the couch beside you. He sat stiff at first, unsure of how close to get, but your hand reached out to lightly tug on the hem of his sleeve.

“You can sit normal, Sal. I don’t bite,” you mumbled into a throw pillow.

Sal blinked. “…Right.”

So he settled in, closer now. Shoulders relaxed, hands resting in his lap.

You didn’t seem to notice. You sighed and reached for the throw blanket, dragging it over your lap. “I swear, our captain’s trying to kill us before regionals. That girl has no chill at all.”

Sal nodded, fiddling with the frayed end of his sleeve. “You looked good out there. In practice, I mean. You’re, um… really good.”

You cracked a tired smile. “Wow. A whole compliment? Who are you and what have you done with the real Sal?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean it.”

You leaned back, eyes drifting closed for a moment. “Thanks. That’s sweet.”

Sal stared at the ceiling. God. Larry was so annoying. worse he might have been a little right. Sal snuck a glance at you. You were curled up under your blanket, makeup smudged, hair messy, hoodie riding up slightly as you hugged a pillow to your chest. Relaxed. Comfortable. Like this was normal. It was normal. But now his heart was doing this thing in his chest, like it couldn’t decide if it was nervous or just stupid. He’d been in this apartment a hundred times. But now he was acutely aware of every inch of the couch between you. Every sound. Every breath.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, eyes fluttering open. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

Sal blinked. “I’m always quiet.”

You tilted your head, watching him for a second. “Yeah, but this is like… extra quiet. Like ‘do I need to get you tea or something?”

Sal flushed under the mask. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

You nodded like that made perfect sense and scooted over slightly just an inch or two. Just enough to close the space between you a little. “Same. You can lean back, y’know. You look like you’re in timeout.”

You shifted again, grumbling about how sore your thighs were from endless jumping and kicks, and without much thought, you swung your legs up and over Sal’s lap.Sal froze just a bit at the sudden contact like someone had startled a cat but when you didn’t move again, he relaxed slowly. He looked down at your legs draped across him, then up at your face. You weren’t even paying attention, completely at peace.

“So,” you started casually, “there’s this show in the city next month like a mini festival kind of deal? Bunch of local punk and alt bands. Larry and Ash wanna go, and I’m so tempted.”

Sal blinked, his hands awkwardly hovering near your shins. “You gonna go?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on money, and if we survive regionals without blowing our knees out. But also… I don’t have anything to wear. I can’t show up in pastel to a punk show.”

He gave a small huff of amusement, fingers finally settling on your legs just resting there at first, the lightest contact. “Bet you could make anything work,” he murmured.

You smirked at that, cracking one eye open to look at him. “You flirting with me, Fisher?”

“Barely,” he said, voice teasing but warm.

You grinned and nudged his arm with your foot. You rambled on about some of the bands on the lineup, flipping through your phone with one hand while the other idly tugged at the blanket. Sal nodded, adjusting slightly under your legs. “Yeah. Larry won’t shut up about it. He wants to mosh until he dislocates a shoulder.”

“That’s such a Larry thing. I was thinking about going. It’s not really my usual scene, but I don’t know… it’d be fun.”

Sal tilted his head toward you, curiosity sparking. “You can always see, you did say you liked my music before and its not too far off”

You started rambling, voice soft but animated mentioning outfits with fishnets, oversized band tees, maybe one with a leather jacket if the night was cold. A crop top you hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. And somewhere along the way soft and slow Sal’s fingers began to move.

He hadn’t meant to, not consciously. But as you spoke, he found himself gently running his fingertips along your shin, then your calf, trailing little absentminded patterns with the pads of his fingers. He moved like he was afraid to startle you, every brush of his hand tender and hesitant. You didn’t react at first. Perhaps you didn’t even notice. But your voice dipped a little, more relaxed, like the comfort of it had settled into your bones. Your leg twitched slightly in contentment, and Sal’s hand paused Then continued, slower this time.“That purple top you wore at the bonfire,” he said suddenly, voice quiet, almost like it snuck out of him, “you looked… really nice in it.”

You turned your head toward him, eyes blinking open with a sleepy little smile. “Yeah?”

He nodded, eyes flicking away. His hand stilled again, resting warm and steady on your leg. “Yeah.” Sal blinked, clearly only just now realizing he was still touching you. He froze for a second again, his fingers hovering in place like they’d been caught doing something illegal.

You raised a brow. “What, you gonna stop now?”

He hesitated then quietly resumed, a small smile hidden beneath his mask. “No,” he said softly. “I’ll keep going.”

You smiled to yourself and let your eyes close. despite the thoughts running miles a minute in his head, despite the ghost of Larry’s voice still rattling around somewhere in the background saying, “You’re in too deep, lover boy,” Sal didn’t stop. He just sat there, calm and quiet as ever, slowly tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You yawned, stretching your arms again until your fingertips grazed the top of the couch. “You should just stay the night again,” you said, voice casual, like it wasn’t making Sal’s heart immediately stutter in his chest. “You’ve still got clothes here from the last time. Plus, I don’t feel like saying bye.”

Sal blinked at you, unsure if you were teasing or not. He nodded slowly. “…Yeah. Okay. If you’re cool with it.”

You gave a little grin. “I wouldn’t’ve asked if I wasn���t.”

You sat up slightly, arms propped behind you. “Also, I’ve been craving something sweet all day. Wanna bake something? Cookies? Muffins? Brownies? We’ve got options, Sal.”

He opened his mouth to say something sarcastic but instead, what came out, soft and automatic, was:

“Yeah. Sure. Anything with you.” There was a brief pause. You blinked at him. He blinked at himself. Then his shoulders hunched a little as he realized what he’d just said. “I mean not anything anything. I just meant like I’m down for whatever you wanna bake. Or whatever.” His voice went lower and quicker with each word, panic mode lightly engaged.

You, meanwhile, were trying not to grin like a fool. “Anything with me?” you teased, poking his side.

Sal groaned and covered his face with his hand. “Please forget I said that.”

You smirked. “Relax. I got the message.”

You walked into the kitchen, still grinning as you rummaged through cabinets. “We’re doing cookies. I’ve got chocolate chips, let’s go.”

Sal followed after you, his hands shoved in his pockets now, even if you also unknowingly made his heart trip over itself every ten seconds.

You were already digging through the baking shelf when Sal joined you in the kitchen, He looked more at home than anyone had the right to in someone else’s apartment. And maybe that’s because this wasn’t “someone else’s” anymore not to him. You held up a bag of chocolate chips like it was sacred treasure. “Behold. The only reason this dough will be tolerable.”

Sal smirked faintly, leaning a hip against the counter. “Wow. No faith in your own baking skills?”

You scoffed, tossing the bag on the counter. “I’m realistic. My baking is edible. Not gourmet.”

“I’ve eaten weirder things,” he said, deadpan, reaching for the mixing bowl.

Your eyebrow arched. “That’s not comforting.”

“I mean, you’re letting me help, so who’s really at fault here?”

You made a dramatic show of dumping flour into the bowl. “You've got all my trust, blue boy.”

He nodded solemnly. You passed him the whisk while cracking eggs into a small bowl. Sal took the whisk with a little more flair than necessary. “How do I stir this? is there a certain way or?”

You paused, watching him with amusement. “I dunno, maybe talk dirty to it. ‘Cause these cookies are about to be sinful.”

Without missing a beat, Sal leaned down a little and murmured to the bowl in his calmest voice, “Hey, sugar. You like it rough, or should I ease the chocolate chips in slowly?”

You choked on your laugh so hard you had to grab the counter for support. “SAL. What the hell ?!”

He grinned as he started mixing, shoulder bouncing slightly from his own laughter. “You started it.”

“You said it too well, that’s the problem,” you said, smacking his arm with a dish towel. “Didnt know i was hanging out with a FREAK”

“I try my best” he said, licking a bit of dough off his finger after moving his mask to the side ever so slightly.

You paused. “Did you just raw dog cookie dough? theres eggs in that” He looked at you, expression unreadable under his mask, “…I walked into that one, didn’t I?” you mumbled.

“Hard,” he replied simply.

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. “I liked it better when you were flustered and awkward.”

“Too late,” Sal said, dumping the chocolate chips in with an almost smug level of confidence. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as you reached over to flick flour at him. He ducked with surprising grace, the grin behind the mask audible in his voice. “Try me again and you’re getting dough on your face.”

“Oh no,” you gasped “What ever shall I doooooo” He dipped two fingers in the bowl. “Don’t you dare.” He looked at you. stared deep into your eyes. then slowly took a taste instead. You stared at him, jaw dropped. “Thought you were gonna smear it on me,” you muttered.

“Tempting,” he said casually, licking the last bit of dough off his thumb, “but I’m not wasting chocolate on your forehead.”

“Oh, so we’re economical and sassy tonight are we?”

He shrugged. “Multitasking.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ The oven beeped to life, the tray of cookies safely tucked inside. You set the timer with a satisfied little hum, turning on your heel just as Sal moved to put the mixing bowl in the sink. You didn’t mean to step into him, but the narrow kitchen and your complete lack of awareness sent you directly into his chest.

You both froze.

Your hands braced instinctively against his chest, his hands caught at your shoulders in an effort to steady you. It wasn’t a rough impact. The air shifted instantly. You looked up at him, suddenly hyper aware of how close you were. The only thing keeping your faces apart… was the smooth surface of his mask.

Neither of you moved. You looked up, startled at first, but then your gaze softened. The glow of the kitchen light cast gold shadows across the room, and you swore you could see a flush creeping beneath the edge of his hairline.

His hands didn’t drop right away. Neither did yours. barely above a whisper, Sal said, “It’s not fair… how easy it is to want this with you.”

The words fell out of him like they’d been waiting to be said for weeks. stripped of any of the usual carefulness he kept wrapped around himself. Your breath caught, eyes searching his through the hair that had fallen across his face. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke.

“Can I… take it off?”

His breath hitched. He blinked. “Wh– wow, okay. Um. Your phrasing is kinda uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight. “You make it sound like we’re about to hook up on the counter.”

You blinked then burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Sal.” You smacked his chest lightly. “That wasn’t even what I meant, but now I can’t un hear it.”

He gave a helpless, sheepish shrug, eyes crinkling just a little. “You said it, not me.”

You tilted your head, grinning up at him. “We can save that for another time, then.”

That shut him up. You watched as his brain visibly short circuited, eyes going wide before darting off to the side in panic. His ears turned bright pink beneath his hair.

“Joking,” you whispered, though the glint in your eye said you weren’t completely kidding. “Mostly.”

He let out a soft huff as he let his hands drop from your waist, stepping back just slightly but not enough to break the warmth still hanging between you. You tilted your head. “I’m serious, though. I won’t push. But if you ever feel ready… I’d like to see the whole you again.”

Sal nodded slowly, eyes dropping to the floor for a beat before flicking back up. “I know.”

The beep sliced through the silence like a mischievous little gremlin, reminding you that time and cookies waited for no emotionally charged stare downs. You blinked, the moment still humming in your chest, then snorted softly. “Relax. It’s just the halfway point.”

Sal rolled his eyes, stepping back just a bit more but not enough to be out of reach. “You act like I was the one making it weird.”

You lifted a brow. “Oh, really? ‘It’s not fair how easy it is to want this with you’ that wasn’t a little weird?”

He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “You were this close to getting a sweet moment, and you blew it.”

“I didn’t blow anything,” you shot back with a smirk, walking over to check the oven through the glass. “but given the chance .”

“Y/n, don't even start you perv” Sal let out a surprised little laugh behind his mask, looking at you like you were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen.

“I cant help it when I’ve got a hot guy in my kitchen,” you said, glancing at him.

He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Hot guy?”

“Oh, please. Don’t act surprised. You know exactly what you’re doing in those damn sweatpants.”

Another beep interrupted you, louder this time. You spun to open the oven and muttered, “Cookie time,.” Sal chuckled, walking over behind you and peeking over your shoulder as you reached in with the mitts. “Don’t crowd me,” you teased.

“Just trying to make sure you don’t burn your hands.”

“You burn your mouth on these and I’m not driving you to the ER.”

“Oh, I won’t. I’m excellent with handling hot things.”

Your head turned slowly. “You did not just say that.”

He grinned like the smug bastard he secretly was and plucked a chip off the edge of one cookie. “Too late.”

You watched as Sal carefully moved the cookies to a plate. “Okay,” you said between chews, “we’ve officially earned the right to crash. I say we head to my room movie, cookies, blankets, the whole comfy package.”

Sal paused as he was reaching for another cookie, fingers hovering. “Your… room?”

You turned to him, one brow raised. “Yeah. My bed has like… six pillows. And heated blankets. Plus the TV’s bigger.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚The movie was already twenty minutes in by the time the two of you had finally settled on your bedYou were leaned against Sal’s shoulder, one of your legs curled beneath you, and his body was warm where it pressed gently into yours. Neither of you said much at first, letting the ambient noise of the film fill the space. It was peaceful. Familiar. But for Sal, something about the moment tugged at his thoughts.

He swallowed thickly, barely noticing the way your head had drifted to rest just a little more against him. He was remembering. Your laughter in his room just a few days ago. The way you’d leaned into him so naturally. your body curled into his side played on repeat in his mind more than the movie ever could. He’d said nothing then, hadn’t even dared breathe too loudly, afraid it would pop the fragile bubble of comfort he’d never known he needed.

But now… it was happening again. Here. In your space. Now, lying beside you again, your hair brushing his jawline every now and then when you shifted slightly, he could feel that same quiet gravity pulling at him.

Sal glanced down at you. You were focused on the screen, but he caught the tiny smile at the corner of your mouth perhaps at the film, or at the warmth of the room, or, maybe because of him. He liked to think it was that last one.

You suddenly shifted, laying more fully against his chest and letting your arm rest lightly across his stomach. “Too many cookies,” you mumbled.

He huffed a laugh, his hand instinctively coming up to rest against your back. “That’s on you. I told you to pace yourself.”

“You say that every time, and yet here we are,” you muttered into his shirt. “Besides, they were good and not as bad as i anticipated. Admit it.”

“They were good,” he said quietly. “You always make them good.” Sal chuckled softly under his breath, a hand resting near your waist under the blanket. He could feel the way you molded against him, so naturally. So easily.

The mask felt heavier than usual. He blinked slowly, something shifting inside him. A decision. It wasn’t sudden. It had been building for a while through the shared jokes, the lingering glances, the safety of your presence. now, here, in the soft glow of your bedroom, with your warmth against his side and your breathing matching his, it didn’t feel terrifying.

Sal reached up and slipped the mask from his face. The air hit his skin differently without it. Vulnerability being oh so strong now. But not in a bad way. Not here.

He held the mask in his lap, his hands fidgeting with the straps while his eyes flicked toward you. His lips parted like he might say something, but the words stuck

It was subtle at first just the faintest change in the way his breathing slowed, like he was bracing himself. Your eyes fluttered up and adjusted to the dim room, and when you tilted your head slightly to look at him…

For a second, you just blinked Sal noticed your gaze immediately and stiffened. “Don’t look too hard,” he said quickly, voice low and tense.

You turned fully toward him, shifting just enough to sit up slightly on your elbow. “Sal,” you murmured, your voice laced with surprise but not a hint of pity.

Then, slowly, your hand lifted toward his face. His eyes flicked to your fingers as they hovered near his cheek, and he flinched just slightly but enough for you to pause. He wasn’t used to being seen like this. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, barely above a whisper. “I just I know it’s not…”

Your hand gently made contact with his cheek, and he stopped talking. You were warm. Steady. You didn’t pull back. Your thumb brushed lightly across his skin, tracing the edge of one of his scars without hesitation.

“It’s not what?” you asked quietly. “Not what you think I want to see? Sal, I’ve wanted to do this for months.”

before he could say anything, you leaned in and pressed your lips softly gently against his. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was patient. the world could finally stop spinning just long enough for him to realize: he was wanted. Just like this.

Sal’s eyes widened, the warmth of your lips still lingering as you pulled back, close enough that your breath still ghosted across his skin. His ears were red. His cheeks too. He blinked once, then twice. “You… wanted to?” he asked, barely able to meet your eyes.

You smiled, so close he could feel it. “Of course I did.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just looked at you, like he was still waiting to wake up from something too good to be real. Then, hesitantly like testing the weight of the moment Sal leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in return. This kiss was shy, soft, but undeniably him nervous, sweet, and full of something he didn’t quite know how to say yet.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead gently against yours. He was blushing furiously, but he didn’t hide this time.

“…I’ve wanted to too,” he admitted quietly

[sirxaibs]

Hello there!

I was hoping if you could write a little oneshot or smth of just angst (with comfort ofc) with Hizashi? I recently got into him and loveeee the works you did of him.

(but I also love my men pathetic) So if you could, at any point, could you do that little angst with comfort thing? I don’t care how you wanna do it trope or situation wise. I love creativity!

HIZASHI YAMADA X READER

Radio Silence

masterlist

Writing this made me realize that writing angst is something so funny and I struggle with making it believable because if man disrespected me I would pummel that man into the earth. So I went with the miscommunication route.

The reader is feeling hella insecure and hizashi is being a little bit of a butt

The smell of buttery popcorn drifted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of takeout fried chicken and the subtle cologne Keigo always wore. His apartment was dim except for the glow of the TV, already paused on the movie title screen, and the soft city lights filtering through the balcony windows. You were curled up in a blanket on one side of the couch, legs tucked under you, a soda in one hand and a chicken wing in the other. Keigo, of course, was sprawled like a lazy cat on the other end, one wing lazily draped over the back of the couch. “So,” he said, turning his head toward you with a cheeky grin. “Did Yamada give you the whole ‘don’t let him flirt with you’ speech again?”

You rolled your eyes, biting into your chicken wing with a little more force than necessary. “He knows you flirt with everyone. It’s not personal.”

Keigo gave a mock gasp of offense. “Excuse you. With you, it’s special. There’s artistry out friendship.”

“Uh huh,” you replied, smirking as you reached for the popcorn bowl. “He also told me if he hears one more ‘bird pun’ coming out of my mouth, he’s legally changing my contact name in his phone to ‘Worm.’”

Keigo snorted, tossing a popcorn kernel into the air and catching it in his mouth like the showoff he was. “Yamada’s just jealous ‘cause I make you laugh more than he does.”

You raised a brow. “You make me laugh. He just is funny.”

“Ouch,” Keigo smiled. “That hurt. You wound me, bug.”

You laughed, shoulders shaking under the blanket. The movie hadn’t even started and already, your face hurt from smiling. These movie nights were a tradition. Every Friday, without fail. It started when you and Keigo climbed the hero charts around the same time both young, both exhausted, both needing a place to breathe. He wasn’t always this open; back then, movie nights were quiet affairs. But now? Now he was annoying in a way only someone you loved like family could be.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, tone softer, as if reading your mind. “Thanks for still coming by. Even with you being all boo’d up with Yamada. I thought I’d get replaced.”

You turned your head and gave him a look. “You’re like the brother I never asked for. That means you’re stuck with me.”

He let out a low chuckle and leaned back. “I mean, I am the hot sibling.” “And delusional,” you added.

He kicked your foot gently under the blanket and grinned. “C’mon, let’s start the movie before Yamada texts to check if I’ve kidnapped you.”

You hit play, the screen brightening as the opening credits rolled. Within a few minutes, you were deep into the movie. The bickering paused, save for the occasional snarky commentary whispered between bites of popcorn. Halfway through, your phone buzzed.

Hizashi 🎤💛:tell that bird brain to keep his wings to himself and don’t let him guilt trip u into watching one of those depressing documentaries again 😤

You stifled a laugh and showed the screen to Keigo. He squinted. “He still calls me bird brain?”

“Only when he’s being polite,” you whispered.

Keigo smirked. “Tell him I’m feeding you well. Spiritually and emotionally.”

You typed back: he says you’re feeding me spiritually and emotionally 🙄

Yamada replied within seconds: i’ll spiritually throw hands tell him next week it’s my turn to hog the blanket

You smiled, heart warm. Between your movie nights with Keigo and your loud, sunny mornings with Hizashi, life was more full than ever. They balanced each other out your goofy, dramatic boyfriend who always made life feel like a party, and your sarcastic, emotionally available bird boy best friend who made it a point to never let you take things too seriously. “Hey,” Keigo said around a mouthful of popcorn. “You know what this movie needs?” You raised an eyebrow. He grinned. “More wings.” You smacked him with a pillow.

As movie still played, but your laughter had faded. Keigo noticed the shift before you even said anything. One minute you were snorting over his impression of the lead actor, the next, you were silent curled a little tighter under the blanket, chewing slowly on a piece of popcorn that had long gone stale.

He paused the movie. “Alright,” he said, turning to face you more fully, golden eyes narrowing slightly, “that was a vibe shift so hard it gave me whiplash.”

You smiled faintly but didn’t look at him. “Sorry. I just… I was thinking.”

“Dont hurt yourself,” he teased, trying to coax your mood back up but when you didn’t bite, his teasing melted into concern. “Y/n, what’s going on?”

You kept your eyes on the popcorn bowl in your lap. “Keigo,” you started, voice soft, barely above the movie’s paused hum. “Do you think I’m… interesting?”

That knocked him back a little. He blinked. “What?”

“Like… as a person,” you said, now fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Am I interesting enough? Fun enough? Or am I just… convenient?”

The words settled in the air like dust, too heavy to ignore. Keigo stared at you for a moment, face unreadable. His wing twitched behind him, a barely noticeable movement, but one that betrayed his unease.

“Why the hell would you even ask that?” he finally said, voice lowYou hesitated, but then the words started pouring out.

“There’s this new girl at U.A.,” you said quietly. “She’s around my age. Been helping out with English classes. Hizashi’s been… helping her a lot. Making her laugh. Showing her around.”

Keigo’s jaw tightened. His mind was already racing, piecing things together. The sudden shift in your mood, the subtle cracks in your voice. And now this. “That’s how we started,” you added, barely a whisper. “He was helping me get used to everything. Laughing with me. Staying late to plan lessons that weren’t even his responsibility. And now he’s doing that with her.”

Keigo leaned forward, arms braced on his knees, watching you closely. “Has he done anything? Said anything?”

“No,” you said quickly, because you he has. well better put as he hasnt. shaking your head. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. Still affectionate and loud and obnoxiously sweet. I just… I see them laughing together, and I can’t help thinking what if I’m fading into the background? What if she’s shinier?”

Keigo let out a quiet breath, pushing his hair back with one hand. “Okay,” he said slowly. “First of all, I’m not gonna sit here and pretend that Hizashi’s not a dumbass. Because he is. But he loves you.” You looked at him, uncertain. Keigo’s eyes narrowed with something sharper protectiveness. “And if he’s making you feel invisible? That’s a problem. That’s not your fault. That’s on him.”

“I’m not saying he’s cheating,” you murmured.

“I know you’re not,” he said quickly. “But neglect? That still counts. And for the record? You’re one of the most interesting people I know. Which says a lot, because Im sitting right here.”

You let out a small laugh, wiping under your eye with your sleeve. “I just feel stupid for being jealous,” you admitted. “She’s nice. Sweet. And I don’t want to hate her or anything. I just… miss being the one he lit up for.”

Keigo was quiet for a moment. Then, gently, “Have you told him?”

You shook your head. “Not really. I didn’t want to sound clingy or insecure.”

Keigo leaned back, exhaling hard through his nose. “If anyone ever made you feel like expressing your feelings is a weakness, I will personally dropkick them off U.A.’s roof.”

You cracked another smile. “Pretty sure Aizawa wouldn’t be thrilled with that.”

“He’d help me sweep the sidewalk after.” The mood softened a little. You reached for another handful of popcorn, more out of habit than appetite. Keigo’s voice dropped again, softer now. “You’re not invisible. You’re not convenient. You’re the kind of person people remember loud or quiet, shining or tired.”

That drew a real laugh out of you, even if it was a little watery. You leaned your head on Keigo’s shoulder, and for once, he didn’t tease or wiggle away. His wing gently wrapped around your back like a soft, protective cloak. “I’ll talk to him,” you said after a pause. “I don’t want to assume the worst. I just needed to… say it out loud first.”

Keigo nodded. “Good. And if he brushes you off, I will fight him.”

“…You’d lose.”

He scoffed. “Please. hes an old man.”

You smiled against his shoulder. Keigo didn’t press play again. He just sat there, letting you rest, warm and quiet beneath his wing because sometimes, the best kind of support was saying nothing at all.

♬.ᐟ U.A. was as eccentric as ever. You navigated the halls in your pro hero outfit, arms full of papers Aizawa had trusted you with, the thick stack balanced precariously against your hip as your boots echoed softly across the floor. You were technically helping him with his homeroom class today grading patrol logs, organizing feedback reports, and occasionally stepping in to keep Mineta from launching himself across the room. It was busy, but it kept your mind focused. Mostly. You rounded a corner, adjusting the papers in your arms, and froze when you spotted a familiar blonde just ahead.

Hizashi.

He was standing near the staff lounge, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, chatting animatedly with one of the teaching assistants. You immediately recognized her the new girl. The one you’d mentioned to Keigo. The one who always seemed to find her way into Hizashi’s orbit. She laughed at something he said, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. Hizashi grinned, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, always expressive. Always magnetic. Your stomach twisted, just a little. You lingered for a moment, letting your gaze flick between them. Then, casually calm, composed you made your way over, weaving between students and away from Aizawa’s sharp line of sight. You timed your approach when the hallway cleared just enough for a brief moment of privacy.

Your voice was low, playful flirty in a way you’d mastered just for these little moments.

“Hey, stranger,” you murmured, brushing your shoulder against his. “You ready for tonight?”

Hizashi turned to you with that familiar, blinding smile one that normally made you feel like the sun was looking right at you. But this time… it dimmed. He chuckled lightly, but it lacked the warmth. It was more muscle memory than feeling. “Ah… about that.” You straightened slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck, his sunglasses sliding down as he avoided your eyes. “I gotta cancel.”

“…Oh.”

“She uh,” he gestured vaguely down the hall, “the new girl. She’s still getting settled in. There’s a bunch of paperwork, and she’s shadowing the afternoon classes. Nezu asked me to help. It’ll probably run late.”

Your arms tightened around the stack of papers. “Right,” you said, trying to keep it breezy. “Makes sense. You’re her mentor, after all.”

He smiled apologetically. “We’ll reschedule, promise.”

You nodded once. “Of course. Not a big deal.”

But something in your chest folded in on itself.

You shifted your weight and gave him a small, strained smile. “You’ve, uh… been cancelling a lot lately.”

It wasn’t meant to come out bitter but it did. Hizashi’s smile froze for half a beat before it dropped entirely. He let out a soft breath through his nose and stepped back just slightly, folding his arms. “Is that what this is about?”

You blinked. “What?”

He shook his head, jaw tight. “I’m sorry I’m not on your schedule, Lumine. Things come up. Students, emergencies life. You of all people should get that.”

That one stung. More than you expected.Your mouth opened, but the words stuck.

“I do get that,” you said, quieter now.

His eyes flicked to you, fast and unreadable. He clicked his tongue once, then looked away, a humorless smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You really think that? After everything?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I’m just missing you being around.”

He didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, expression tight, gaze distant like he was debating whether it was worth arguing. Finally, he said, “Look, if a couple cancelled plans are enough to make you question where we stand, maybe you’ve already decided.”

That twisted your stomach into knots. You wanted to fire back I haven’t decided anything. You wanted him to see through the front and into the ache underneath it all. But you didn’t say any of that. You just took a shallow breath and smiled like a pro hero should. “Good luck with your mentee, Present Mic.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned on your heel, each step deliberate as you disappeared into the corridor again. You kept your back straight, your jaw set. The papers in your arms dug into your ribs, sharp and unrelenting. You didn’t argue. Didn’t ask him to stay. You knew how much he valued being helpful, how much he thrived when people needed him. You wouldn’t be the one to make him feel guilty for that. You never had been. You made it halfway down the hall before you had to blink back something hot and helpless from your eyes.

You were still you Y/n or rather pro hero Lumine, pillar of strength. But for once, you didn’t feel all that strong.

The classroom door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud, muting the hallway noise but not the ache in your chest. You took a slow breath, papers still in hand, and walked over to the desk at the front where Aizawa sat, typing something on his laptop with his usual half awake expression. He glanced up briefly, his sharp gaze flicking to your face, then back to the screen. But he didn’t comment. He never commented unless it mattered. And right now, you were grateful for that. You set the stack of papers down and started to sort them silently, slipping into the rhythm of your TA work. The quiet only lasted about ten seconds.

“LUMINE SAN!!” A green blur bolted toward you like a missile. You barely had time to brace yourself before Izuku Midoriya came to a stop in front of the desk, eyes wide with excitement and fingers twitching like he was holding in a dozen questions.

“Can you PLEASE show me the Relay redirection technique again?! The one where you redirected that villain’s energy into a wall and then boosted yourself off it? I’ve been trying to practice but I think I’m transferring the momentum too early and OH what if I added a lateral shift ?!”

You blinked. “Midoriya,” Aizawa said from behind his laptop, not even looking up, “try breathing.”

The boy inhaled dramatically. You laughed, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. “Okay, okay,” you said gently, raising your hands. “One question at a time. And I told you to just call me [Y/n] while we’re in class.”

“But you’re a Top Hero!!” he protested, practically vibrating. “And your Quirk is so versatile I’ve been trying to calculate how you manage the energy redirection ratios without ”

“Lumine senpai!” Uraraka cut in, jogging up behind him, eyes bright. “Can you show me how you did that move where you redirected falling debris and used it like a springboard? You made it look so easy!”

“Did someone say springboard?” Kirishima called from the back of the room, his chair already scraping as he stood. “Yo, I’ve been wanting to spar with Lumine senpai since last week!”

“I WAS FIRST!” Midoriya cried dramatically.

You stepped back, eyes wide with mock fear. “Help. I’m being overwhelmed by enthusiasm.”

“Serves you right,” Aizawa muttered, sipping from his coffee, clearly unbothered.

You laughed again this time, it came easier. Even after months of helping in Aizawa’s class, 1 A still treated you like you were some sort of legend. Not just because of your pro hero status, but because you were accessible. Someone they could ask questions and train with, someone who never acted like she was above them just because she made it into the top ten before twenty one. They just saw you. Their hero.

You smiled and clapped your hands once. “Alright! I’ve got an hour free before patrol, so whoever wants to run some drills, meet me in the training room in five. Bring water and no Midoriya, we’re not testing your One For All output indoors again.”

He looked like he’d just been scolded and praised in the same breath. “Yes, ma’am!” he said, saluting with his usual enthusiasm.

As the students scrambled to get ready, Aizawa spoke quietly from behind his desk. “You’re ok.”

You turned, a little surprised. “At teaching?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “That too.”

Your gaze dropped for a moment. “…Was it that obvious?”

“To me?” he said, eyes meeting yours. “Always.”

You offered a tired smile. “I’m okay.”

He didn’t push further. Just nodded and sipped his coffee again. But as you turned and followed the students out, their laughter echoing down the hallway, you held onto one small truth: Even when your heart faltered… you still had a place. You still had purpose.

♬.ᐟ The classroom slowly emptied, its once electric energy trailing behind as the 1 A students filtered ou “Go get changed!” you called after them with a smile. “Five minutes, then training room! And hydrated, people I’m not dragging anyone to Recovery Girl again!”

“YES, MA’AM!” a collective chorus replied before they scattered like popcorn.

The second the door shut, a familiar presence stirred beside you. Aizawa. You didn’t look up right away you were too busy organizing the leftover papers on the desk, trying to keep your mind on something that wasn’t Hizashi’s dumb apologetic smile from earlier. But then a firm flick landed square on your forehead. “Ow!” You recoiled, rubbing the spot as you looked up with a playful scowl. “Rude.”

Aizawa, expression neutral as always, merely raised an eyebrow. “What’d the idiot do?”

Your lips twitched, but you played dumb. “What idiot?” He gave you a flat look. You cracked first, shaking your head and giving a soft laugh. “It’s nothing, Shouta,” you said lightly. “Seriously. It’s not even worth saying out loud.”

He crossed his arms, studying you for a beat. He didn’t have to say anything for you to hear it loud and clear: You’re not okay. You didn’t cave, though. You just glanced down at your boots for a moment and then back up at him with a tired smile. “…Kind of funny,” you mused aloud, “how in such a short amount of time, you’ve gotten weirdly protective.”

“Protective?” he echoed, feigning innocence.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Looking like you’re ready to toss Hizashi into traffic.”

“I wouldn’t toss him,” Aizawa said dryly. “I’d aim better.” You snorted. He didn’t smile, but his tone softened. “You know I won’t push. But if he’s still being an idiot…” You looked at him. “…Punch him,” he said simply. “If you won’t, I will. I’d even enjoy it.”

Your smile returned, a little stronger this time. “You’re such a softie, Shouta.”

“If you tell anyone I am, I’ll deny it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

He nodded and turned back toward his desk.

“You coming to the training room?” you called after him as you grabbed your things.

“I’ll be there,” he said without turning. “Wouldn’t miss watching you show up my students.” You gave a mock salute, stepping toward the door.

♬.ᐟThe soft light of morning crept in through the edge of the blinds, painting the bedroom in muted gold. You stirred slowly beneath the covers, warmth still tangled around your limbs as you blinked your way into consciousness. But the bed was… too still. Too quiet. Your hand reached out instinctively to the other side empty. The sheets were cool to the touch, already long vacated. And that’s when your brain caught up with your heart.

He wasn’t here.

You frowned faintly, turning onto your back with a soft sigh, staring up at the ceiling as your fingers reached for your phone from the nightstand. Maybe he’d left a message. Maybe there was a silly gif, or a “good morning, sunshine,” or even just one of his chaotic all caps texts.

But your lock screen blinked back at you in silence. No new messages. No missed calls. You stared at the screen for a second longer than you meant to. Then let it drop to the bed with a soft thud and a louder, more exasperated one of your own as you fell back into the pillows.

“Seriously?” you muttered aloud, dragging a hand down your face. It hadn’t just been this morning. For the past week he'd made himself scarce in all ways that mattered.

The silence in the apartment pressed down around you. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly it was familiar. But… different this time. There had always been something between you and Hizashi. A current. A rhythm. And one of the key things that had made this relationship so easy so safe was his open, borderline excessive, communication. When you started dating, he would text you before and after missions. Call you in the middle of his commute just to hear your voice. Even if you were both busy, there was always a quick note left on the counter, a kiss to your temple before slipping out, a “see you later, babe.”

But this morning? Nothing. for some reason, that silence echoed louder than any shout. You forced yourself out of bed, tugging on your hero uniform piece by piece, tying your hair back and brushing off the creeping sense of disappointment. You were overthinking it. Hizashi was probably just busy. Or running late. Or forgot his phone charger again. Still… You found yourself moving slower than usual. Checking the door. The kitchen. The counter. Any sign that he’d left something for you. But no note. No keys missing. No trace of his usual whirlwind departure. Just a few dishes in the sink and his jacket slung over the back of a chair. You picked it up without thinking, holding it for a second before setting it gently back down.

Okay. Focus.

You glanced at the clock. You still had time before your shift at U.A. But you hadn’t moved to grab your bag. Or your water bottle. Or your shoes. You just stood there. The quiet wrapped around you again, a little heavier than before. “…Where’d you go, Zashi?” you asked the silence. No answer. You sat back down on the edge of the bed, uniform jacket and let yourself pause. Just for a moment longer. You’d leave soon. Just not yet. You could hear the faint hum of traffic outside the apartment window, the occasional bird call, and the steady ticking of the clock. But your phone remained silent. Still no word from Hizashi. The longer you sat there, the harder it was not to spiral. You weren’t someone who got clingy. You weren’t. But this wasn’t just anyone. This was him. And he never went quiet. Not with you. You blinked down at your phone again, about to toss it aside for good, when it buzzed in your hand sharp and sudden. You jumped.

Incoming Call: Birdbrain 🐤

You didn’t even hesitate before answering. “Keigo?”

“Good morning, sunshine,” Hawks greeted, voice bright, breezy as ever. “Didn’t think I’d catch you before your shift. Lucky me.”

“…Aren’t you supposed to be in Kyushu?” you asked, brows raising.

A pause. You could practically hear the shrug on the other end. “Got a mission down here later today,” he replied. “But figured I’d make a pit stop first. Y’know check on my favorite best friend before jumping into action.”

You blinked, a small smile tugging at the edge of your mouth. “I’m your only best friend.”

“Exactly! Makes the title more prestigious, don’t you think?” You let out a soft laugh, the first real one of the morning. It felt like exhaling something heavy. “Need a ride?” he added casually. “Wings are stretched, air’s fresh, and my back’s not sore yet. I’ll carry you like a princess if you say please.”

You snorted. “I hate that you know I’d actually enjoy that.”

“Of course you would. Who wouldn’t want to be swept off their feet by a pro with great hair?”

You glanced around the apartment one last time, empty and still. Then back at your phone. “…Fuck it,” you muttered with a grin. “Sure. Fly me to work, Birdbrain.”

“Atta girl.” You heard the whoosh of wind pick up through the line he was already in the air. “Be there in five,” he said.

“Bring coffee.”

“Already got it.”

You grinned. Of course he did. As you finally stood up and zipped your jacket the rest of the way, you felt something shift. The wind whipped past you as Keigo soared through the sky, arms securely around you while his wings sliced effortlessly through the air. You leaned back slightly in his grip, head resting against his shoulder, the city below a blur of rooftops, blinking signs, and morning rush hour. Flying with Hawks was always surreal. Liberating. Peaceful.

“You know,” Keigo started, voice raised slightly over the wind, “I seriously miss you on missions.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “You just miss me kicking your ass during recon.”

He laughed. “Exactly! It’s humiliating flying solo without someone smarter and prettier pointing out my blind spots.”

You grinned, letting your eyes fall closed for a moment as the wind rushed past your cheeks. “…I miss it too,” you admitted quietly.

He glanced down at you, golden eyes narrowing slightly in the light. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Being out there. Doing real hero work with you. I mean, I love teaching the kids and it’s been good. A change of pace. But…”

“But you’re not built to stay still,” he finished for you.

“Exactly.” You let the wind carry your next words gently. “I’ve got a few more months. Then I’m back full time at my agency.”

He let out a low whistle. “The countdown begins.”

“Not that I haven’t appreciated Aizawa throwing erasers at my head like I'm back in school.”

Keigo chuckled, adjusting his grip around your waist as he dipped low, angling toward the UA skyline in the distance.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, his voice softer now. “When you’re back on the field… let’s pick up some joint missions again. Just you and me. Like old times.”

You looked at him, the wind tangling through your hair.

“Deal,” you said with a small smile. “But I’m still better at recon.”

He smirked, eyes gleaming. “Debatable. But I’ll let you believe that ” The two of you laughed, the tension of the morning lifting, carried away on the breeze.

Keigo’s boots touched down lightly at the front of U.A., wings folding behind him with practiced ease as he set you gently on your feet. You wobbled dramatically on landing, half for show.

“Wow,” you teased, “you didn’t even crash us into a wall this time. I’m so proud my little boy is growing up so fast.”

He gave a bow, hand over his heart. “Only the best service for my favorite pro hero slash part time TA slash caffeine addict.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep the smile from stretching across your face. The morning had shifted completely, and now you were practically bouncing on your heels at the sight of the building. In such a short amount of time it became your second home. Keigo noticed. He always did. “Someone’s excited,” he said with a smirk. “Look at you, grinning like a nerd on the first day of hero school.”

You bumped his shoulder. “Shut up. I missed the kids.”

He chuckled, but then his voice dropped just slightly, lightness giving way to something quieter. “…So,” he asked, hands in his pockets, “you talk to Hizashi yet?”

Your smile faltered just for a second. You covered it quickly with a dry laugh. “Jeez, Keigo,” you said, feigning casual. “We were just flying over Tokyo like cool anime characters and now you wanna get emotional?” He gave you a look. You turned away. “You wanna go grab ramen later or ”

“Nope,” he interrupted, stepping in front of you before you could bolt inside. “You’re not changing the subject.”

You huffed, an actual honest to god huff, arms crossing like a five year old who’d been told “no” at the toy store. Keigo raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really?”

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” you muttered.

“Why?” he asked, voice still light, but his gaze was sharper now. “What’s he done?”

You hesitated. Then shrugged. “He cancelled our date last night.”

Keigo blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” you said, eyes on the front steps. “Said he had to help that new girl again.”

“That’s the same one from the other day, right?” He asked, You nodded. He stared at you a moment longer. “So how many times has he rescheduled on you lately?”

You went quiet. “…A few,” you said finally. “Okay, like four? Five? I don’t know. It’s been a couple of weeks now.”

You didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. It slipped, like a cracked dam suddenly letting out a little more water than intended. Keigo’s entire expression changed. “…A few weeks?”

You winced. “Keigo ”

“No, no, no what?” His tone lost all its usual teasing. “He’s been ditching you for weeks, and you didn’t say anything?!”

“It’s not that simple ”

“Not that simple?” he echoed, feathers twitching behind him like they had a mind of their own. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to him, and he’s acting like he’s got something better to do?”

You rubbed your temple, sighing. “I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He has been helping her adjust to the job and ”

“And what?” Hawks cut in, his voice sharper than before. “He's out here pulling the same setup with someone new and canceling dates like it’s no big deal?” You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Because he had a point. Keigo noticed your silence, and while his expression stayed hard for another moment, he eventually softened with a quieter sigh. “…You deserve better than being second place,” he said, his voice low. “Especially to someone who’s supposed to know how lucky he is.”

You looked away. “…I know.”

He touched your arm gently. “Just… don’t let him keep brushing you aside. You’re not some placeholder until the next exciting thing shows up.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. The warning bell rang in the distance. You cleared your throat and forced a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Birdbrain.”

He gave you a nod, expression still laced with worry quickly throwing in a hug. “Text me if he does anything else. Or if you need a getaway flight. Or if you wanna get drunk and complain.”

“I’ll take you up on that last one.” You stepped away, boots clicking softly on the pavement as you made your way toward the doors shoulders a little heavier than before. But Keigo stayed at the front gate, eyes narrowed, watching you go. deep down, one thing was certain: If Hizashi didn’t get his act together soon, he wouldn’t just be answering to you. He’d be answering to Hawks.

The second floor hallway of U.A. bustled with its usual morning rhythm students rushing to class, teachers reviewing notes, assistants scrambling between assignments. Hizashi stood near the railing, flipping casually through the clipboard in his hands, scanning a few last minute lesson updates. It was supposed to be a normal start to a normal day. Then he glanced down and froze. There, just outside the front entrance, was you and Keigo.

His arms were wrapped around you in one of those easy, familiar hugs like it wasn’t the first, or the fifth, or even the hundredth. You were laughing, head tilted back slightly, eyes bright in a way Hizashi hadn’t seen in… weeks. Maybe more. Keigo said something, and you nudged his shoulder like you always did when someone got too sappy. It shouldn’t have bugged him. It really shouldn’t have. He wasn’t the jealous type. Never had been. He trusted you. But watching you down there with Keigo with someone closer to your age, someone who’d been with you through the grind of agency life and knew every beat of your rhythm before he ever had the chance to learn it himself it hit him in a place he wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable. He couldn’t look away. You looked good with Keigo. Comfortable. Natural. Too natural. He exhaled slowly, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“Yamada san!” The voice snapped him out of it. He turned, quickly adjusting his sunglasses as the assistant teacher the new girl, the one who’d been shadowing him for the past month hurried up beside him, papers clutched in her arms. “I’ve got the updated attendance lists and the quirk progression charts you asked for!” she chirped, slightly out of breath.

Hizashi blinked. “Oh yeah. Great. Thanks, kiddo.”

She gave him a bright smile. “Ready to take on the day?” There was a brief pause. Hizashi cast one more glance down toward the entrance, but you were gone. The moment had passed. He smiled back at the assistant, all charm.

“Let’s get ready to rumble.”

He turned on his heel and walked down the hall toward his classroom shoulders squared, grin plastered on. But behind the tinted lenses of his shades, something flickered.

The clock ticked lazily in the teachers’ lounge, the midday lull settling over the space like a fog. The aroma of coffee mingled with bento boxes and the low hum of casual conversation. You sat perched on the edge of a table, half empty cup of coffee in hand, deep in conversation with All Might, who listened with that usual warm, encouraging smile. You weren’t talking about anything serious. Just stories old hero missions, students’ quirks developing, the chaos of balancing teaching with fieldwork. But you were laughing, smiling, leaning into it with a relaxed energy that hadn’t been there this morning.

Because after hours of stewing, reflecting, and repeating Keigo’s words in your head… something clicked. You were a goddamn pro hero. You’d saved lives. Busted entire villain rings. Been on high level missions. You were in the Top fucking 10 for a reason. And you’d been moping around like some side character waiting for crumbs of affection from a man who wouldn’t even text you “good morning” anymore. No more. You were done letting his silence eat you alive.

So when the door creaked open and Hizashi stepped in, voice echoing his usual “Yo~!” across the lounge you didn’t even glance his way.

You kept talking with All Might, laughing about how Mineta once tried to “spy” on the staff meetings by hiding under the table and sneezed so hard he gave himself away. You didn’t break your smile. Didn’t shift. Didn’t even pause. But Hizashi did. The moment his eyes landed on you, his steps faltered. You were radiant. Confident. That familiar glint of fire in your eyes, the one he used to love bragging about to strangers “That one? That’s mine.”

Except today, you didn’t even look at him. And Keigo’s hug from this morning flashed in his mind like a spotlight. He hovered near the coffee machine for a second, like he might approach you. Say something. Anything. But instead, he turned toward the worn out couch tucked into the corner of the lounge. Aizawa was there, dozing under a blanket he probably swiped from Recovery Girl’s office again. Hizashi walked over and plopped down next to him with a sigh that lacked its usual theatrics. Aizawa cracked one eye open, groaning. “You’re breathing loud.”

“Love you too, Eraser,” Hizashi muttered, slouching down, arms folded.

He didn’t look at you again. And you didn’t look back. You were too busy being exactly what you were: a damn powerhouse who didn’t need anyone to feel whole, especially someone who didn’t see your worth until someone else reminded you of it. The rest of the day dragged on with the weight of things left unsaid. You were professional, sharp, efficient, and composed. But everyone who knew you well could feel the subtle shift in your demeanor. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and your answers to certain people came clipped, short. One person in particular.

“Hey, babe uh, I mean,” Hizashi stammered as he caught up to you in the hallway, quickly correcting himself when a student passed by. “Yo! Partner in education crime! You see those evaluation forms I left in the ?”

You didn’t even stop walking. “Nope.”

His brow furrowed. “They were on my desk. I thought you wouldve ”

“I said I haven’t seen them, Mic,” you replied, a little sharper this time as you adjusted the clipboard under your arm. “You might wanna check the staff mailboxes. Again.”

He blinked, surprised by your tone, but tried to keep things light. “Alright, alright. No need to bring the villain voice out, sweetheart.”

You didn’t respond. You just turned the corner without looking back. It continued like that all afternoon. He’d call your name when you were helping a student your answer would be short, eyes not even meeting his. During the joint sparring drills between classes, he tried to crack one of his usual dumb puns to lighten the mood. Normally, you’d groan or throw a water bottle at him. But today? Nothing. You didn’t even acknowledge it.

By the time the last bell rang and the students were released for the day, the tension between you two was thick enough to choke on. Even some of the kids were looking between you both, unsure whether to say anything or stay far, far out of the blast zone. You were organizing the equipment closet alone when you heard Hizashi’s footsteps stop at the doorway behind you.

“Hey,” he said, trying again, voice lower this time. “You okay?”

Still facing away, you carefully set down the box of training gloves you’d been stacking. “I’m great,” you replied coolly.

“Because you’ve been… kinda short with me today,” he added with a nervous laugh. “Like, ‘Eraser without coffee’ kind of short.”

You slowly turned to face him, arms crossed now, brow raised. “Maybe I’m just tired of being an afterthought,” you said, tone calm but edged.

His eyes widened slightly. “Wait what?”

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You walked past him, the door brushing his arm as you stepped out into the hallway. “I have agency paperwork to file,” you tossed over your shoulder, not looking back. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your assistant can help out.”

He stood in the empty room, the weight of your words slamming harder than any punch you’d ever thrown at him. And for once in his life Hizashi Yamada, the voice hero, the man who always had something to say couldn’t find the words to stop you.

♬.ᐟYour apartment was quiet that night. The usual rhythm of week night movie night at Hizashi’s place, takeout containers on the coffee table, his exaggerated reactions to every jump scare was nowhere to be found. Instead, you were wrapped in a hoodie two sizes too big, hair tied messily back, sitting on your couch with your legs tucked underneath you and your phone face down beside you. The silence buzzed. Your eyes flicked toward your phone when it lit up for the third time in under two minutes.

[Hizashi 🤘🎤]: Wait why aren’t you staying at my place tonight?

[Hizashi 🤘🎤]: Please just answer. One minute. That’s all I’m asking.

[Hizashi 🤘🎤]: I’ll come over if you want. I’ll just wait outside

You groaned, snatched the phone, and jammed your finger against the Do Not Disturb button. The screen went dark, and the buzzing stopped. For a few seconds, at least. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear from him. it just felt like it was too damn late. Now he cared? Now after weeks of canceled dates, silence in the morning, no “good luck” texts, no late night “are you home safe?” messages? Now, when he finally noticed your absence, he wanted to show up? You flopped back onto the couch with a huff, your arm draped dramatically over your eyes. The ceiling spun lazily above you, and your thoughts churned with every unread message he’d never sent during the nights you waited. One night. You gave yourself a single night away and suddenly, he’s reaching out like the world’s ending. Like he didn’t have the chance time after time to keep you close.

The hypocrisy stung.

Your jaw clenched. You didn’t want apologies. You wanted consistency. You wanted the man who made you feel like a damn priority, not someone who remembered you only when your silence became louder than your presence. Tired physically, emotionally, and of being the only one chasing you grabbed your pillow off the couch and trudged into the bedroom. No more waiting by the phone. You crawled into bed, pulled the covers over your head, and let the silence swallow everything else.He could talk tomorrow. If you were in the mood to listen.

♬.ᐟIt was an unusually sunny Wednesday morning as you strolled down the corridor toward Aizawa’s classroom, arms full of lesson materials and training schedules. Your hair was tied up today, your pro hero outfit layered neatly under a casual jacket, and your energy despite the stress of the past few days was surprisingly light. Probably because you had finally slept. Probably because you didn’t answer a single one of Hizashi’s texts last night. You were halfway to 1 A’s classroom when a familiar cluster of students came bouncing up beside you Ashido, Hagakure, Jirou, and Yaoyorozu, to be exact.

Ashido had that mischievous glint in her eyes. “Sooo… sensei…” she started, drawing out the word, walking backward just to face you.

You narrowed your eyes, instantly suspicious. “Mina…”

“We may have seen you getting dropped off yesterday morning.”

“By Hawks,” Jirou added casually, though the raised brow and amused smirk said otherwise.

Yaoyorozu chimed in politely, “It was quite the scene, actually. Very cinematic.”

“And very cute,” Hagakure giggled, even if her floating uniform did all the emoting.

You groaned, dramatic and loud. “Are you serious right now?”

Ashido bumped your arm with her shoulder. “C’mon, you can’t just land from the sky on a weekday morning with the number two hero and expect us not to notice.”

You snorted. “You say that like Todoroki doesn’t walk you all to school every other week. That’s way more suspicious.”

That was the wrong thing to say. “YEAH BUT THAT’S TOTALLY DIFFERENT!” Ashido squealed.

“Oh my god,” Jirou muttered, “I once saw him brush his hair back and three first years passed out.”

“I swear the wind only ever blows when he’s around,” Hagakure added with a little clap.

“He once said ‘good morning’ to me and I tripped over my own shoelaces,” Yaoyorozu admitted, cheeks faintly pink.

You stopped walking and stared at them like they were part of a cult. “…Okay. You all need therapy.”

Ashido grinned. “Probably. But we’re not the ones flying to work with Hawks like some high speed romcom couple.”

You sighed. “Hawks is like my brother. You know that, right?”

“Sure, and Todoroki’s like a school bus, but I still turn into static when he talks to me,” Jirou deadpanned.

“That metaphor was wild,” you muttered.

Ashido looped her arm through yours as you resumed walking. “Point is you looked good with him. Are you two ?”

You flicked her forehead lightly. “You should be more concerned with your combat scores than my love life.”

“Deflection noted,” Jirou sing songed.

“Suspicion level: Maximum!” Hagakure chirped.

“Honestly, I don’t even ship you two,” Ashido said, squinting thoughtfully. “But I’d still read the fanfiction.” You let out a laugh real and unguarded as you opened the classroom door and ushered them in.

The halls were packed with energy as students shuffled from one class to the next, conversations echoing through the corridor like a constant hum. You stood beside Aizawa near the end of the hallway, reviewing the updated training roster for the next practical block. He looked particularly grumpy this morning, but you’d known him long enough to tell he was more tired than annoyed. You handed him the finalized list, voice steady. “I made a few changes based on their last evaluations. Should be more balanced now.”

Aizawa nodded, taking the papers with a grunt of approval. “Good. We’ll go over it in the lounge later.”

You glanced over your shoulder as the doors to the second floor UA staff corridor swung open and that’s when you saw them. Hizashi walked in laughing at something, his voice bouncing with that usual exaggerated energy. next to him, just a step too close, was her. The assistant. The new girl. She beamed up at him, clutching a binder to her chest, clearly saying something funny something meant just for him. But then her hand reached out and wrapped around his arm. he didn’t move. Didn’t shrug her off. Didn’t even look surprised. Your eyes locked on that moment the contact, the ease of it. A strange tightening pulled at your chest, like someone was wringing the breath out of you.

“Hey,” Aizawa said, brow furrowed now as he followed your gaze.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You turned before Hizashi even noticed you standing there, your footsteps brisk as you began walking in the opposite direction. Aizawa called your name, just once. But you waved your hand dismissively in the air behind you without stopping. You didn’t trust yourself to stay. Didn’t trust yourself not to show just how much it bothered you. Because that hand, that grip that had once been yours. And he let someone else take it without even flinching.

You didn’t even remember which hallway you turned into. All you knew was that your feet moved before your heart could catch up. One second you were standing by Aizawa, and the next, you were alone tucked in a quiet corner of the school, behind one of the lesser used stairwells near the staff garden exit. The morning light streamed through the glass, warm against your face, but it couldn’t cut through the chill sitting heavy in your chest. You stared at the floor, arms crossed tightly, your breath coming out a little too fast. Why did it hurt so much? Why did that moment her hand on his arm bother you more than all the canceled dates combined?

“Hey.” You stiffened. You knew that voice. Aizawa. You didn’t look up, not at first. Your throat felt tight. Embarrassed? Angry? You weren’t sure which emotion was trying to win.

His footsteps were quiet, but the low call of your name pulled your eyes up, just a little. You turned around slowly. Aizawa stood there, hands in his pockets, gaze steady. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice low.

You forced a smile. “It’s nothing ”

“No, it’s not.” His tone didn’t shift, but it firmed. “Talk to me. Not as a colleague. As a friend.” You bit the inside of your cheek, your vision blurring at the edges. Your tongue tried to find a lie, something to deflect, but it caught in your throat. Aizawa took a step forward and, without warning, placed a hand on your head. It was steady. Warm. Familiar in the way only someone who’s always been there can feel. “Be honest,” he said. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Your lips trembled. Still, you didn’t speak. You couldn’t. So instead, you went off the only direction you could sideways. “I think I messed everything up,” you said, voice small. “I mixed my personal life and my professional one, and now it’s all bleeding into each other. it’s not supposed to be like that. Maybe I was never supposed to try doing both.” Aizawa didn’t interrupt. You continued, rambling now, unraveling. “ I’m just not good at balancing this. it’s time to stop pretending I can handle the teaching side of things. Go back to the field. Focus on patrols, rescues. Punch villains. Easy things. Clear lines. Nothing messy like… like feelings.”

You laughed dryly at yourself, wiping your eye quickly before a tear could betray you. He watched you for a moment, his hand still on your head, grounding you. “You’re not the one messing things up,” he said quietly. “And it’s not weak to want both.” Your breath caught. “But if someone’s making you feel like you’re not enough just as you are?” His tone sharpened ever so slightly. “Then they’re the problem. Not you.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have the words yet. But just standing there with his hand on your head and no judgment in his eyes. The quiet settled for a moment after Aizawa spoke, his hand still resting gently on your head. It was strange comforting, frustrating, and vulnerable all at once. You should’ve pulled away. Said you were fine. Gone back to class and pretended everything was okay like you always did. But you didn’t. Instead, you let the silence fill the space before your voice slipped out, brittle and unsure.

“…Why are you being nice to me?”

Aizawa blinked, not moving. “What?”

You finally looked up at him fully this time, brows furrowed, your voice tighter now. “You know what this is about. I mean c’mon. The only reason we’ve gotten this close is because I’m dating your best friend. Your best friend.” He didn’t respond immediately, but you could see the muscles in his jaw tighten. “I’m not your responsibility,” you said quietly. “You could just brush this off. Dismiss it. I wouldn’t even blame you.”

Aizawa sighed softly through his nose, the kind of exhale that said he wasn’t surprised you’d think that way. “I’m not dismissing you,” he said, voice firmer now. “I never have.” You looked away again, the sting of his sincerity making it harder to hold your ground. “I know Hizashi,” he continued, dropping his hand from your head. “I know he’s an idiot a lot of the time. But he means well. He gets caught up in things, he overextends, and sometimes he forgets to look behind him.”

You folded your arms again, your voice bitter. “Then why does it feel like he doesn’t care anymore?”

Aizawa didn’t flinch. “Because sometimes, when you care too much, you don’t notice what you’re taking for granted.” He looked at you directly. “It’s not an excuse. But it’s what’s happening.”

Your heart sank a little. “So what… I’m just the one he assumes will always be there?”

Aizawa didn’t answer right away. The silence was heavier this time. You shook your head. “It hurts, Shouta. It really fucking hurts.”

“I know,” he said quietly. You weren’t expecting that answer. You didn’t even realize how much you needed it until he said it. Aizawa stepped back, just slightly, giving you space but not walking away. “you’re not crazy for feeling this way. You deserve better than to be left guessing how loved you are.”

That nearly broke you. You laughed under your breath, but it was shaky. “Wow. Remind me why I’m dating him and not you?”

Aizawa smirked, and for a split second, you saw the hint of warmth beneath all that fatigue. “Because you couldn’t handle any grumpy man in one lifetime.” You snorted, brushing away the mist threatening your eyes. “C’mon,” he said, already turning. “Let’s go get some coffee. If you’re gonna rant, might as well do it properly.”

You hesitated for a second. But then quietly, and just a little steadier you followed him.

The teachers’ lounge was warmer than usual, filled with the low hum of voices and the faint scent of coffee brewing from the corner. You stood beside Aizawa, trying to act normal trying to keep yourself grounded. Aizawa was, as always, the silent anchor next to you, sipping his drink like he wasn’t watching you carefully from the corner of his eye. The door slid open behind you with that all too familiar whoosh, and you felt it before you even turned. That rush of wind, that burst of enthusiasm like it belonged on a radio broadcast.

Hizashi.

“Yo!” he called, striding into the room like nothing had changed. “Hope everyone’s awake because I’m here to make your afternoon ten times more exciting!”

You flinched. Just slightly. But Aizawa caught it. “Hey, Lumine,” Hizashi added with that same grin, voice lowered as he passed behind you. You didn’t answer, pretending to be too focused on the papers in your hand. He didn’t notice. Or maybe he chose not to. Instead, he turned to the room, plopping down into a nearby chair. “You guys seriously, my assistant’s picking things up so fast! Her English is practically flawless now. She’s practically correcting me! Can you believe that?”

You froze. Just for a second. The breath caught in your chest. The smile on his face wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even directed at you. That made it worse. Because you had been practicing. You had been studying English late at night, trying to keep up not because it was required of you, but because you wanted to help him. Because it mattered to him. Because you mattered to him… or, at least, you thought you did. You hated how his words stung. How they felt like invisible arrows aimed straight at the spot you’d been trying to patch up. Your grip on your papers tightened.

“Oh, yeah?” All Might asked politely, clearly trying to make conversation. “That’s impressive!”

“She’s super sharp,” Hizashi said brightly. “Picks up tone, nuance, everything. Honestly, I wish some of my colleagues picked it up that fast.”

Your ears rang. You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it almost bled. And in that moment, all the embarrassment how small you felt, how stupid you felt for even trying rose up like bile. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. You didn’t want to crack in front of anyone. Your feet started moving before you fully realized it. But you didn’t get far. A firm tug pulled you back. You halted in place as you felt fingers grab the back of your jacket. Aizawa. You turned slightly, enough to see him staring at you out of the corner of his eye, still leaning against the counter, mug in hand.

The teachers’ lounge had emptied slowly, the casual chatter dying out as each staff member slipped out the door, one by one. All that remained were the three of you Hizashi by the window, fiddling with a stray button on his jacket, you near the table with your arms crossed tight against your chest, and Aizawa, who had just drained the last of his coffee. He exhaled a tired breath and stepped close. Without a word, he placed a firm hand on your back just enough pressure to ground you, to say he was there. Aizawa had already patted you on the back and left, muttering his warning “Remember, if you don’t punch him, I will.” Then it was just you and Hizashi.

You didn’t look at him. Not at first. He chuckled nervous and uncertain, trying to find solid ground in the minefield he’d helped create. “So,” he started, leaning on the edge of the table, casual and offbeat like always. “You and Hawks? Flying in together like you used to. Laughing. Hugging. Thought I’d need shades with how bright that smile was.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, not bothering to look at him.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, but that stupid grin stayed. “Just y’know, flying in together, laughing a lot, hugging in the courtyard… He’s always been close to you. Just didn’t realize how close.”

You turned slowly, finally meeting his eyes. “You serious right now?” He blinked at your tone, grin faltering. You laughed once, bitter. “That’s rich coming from you.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Well, maybe you should’ve been a little more observant these past few weeks. Might’ve noticed your girlfriend slowly feeling like she doesn’t even exist.”

He blinked. “You actually can't be serious”

“I’m not doing this,” you muttered, turning.

“No hold on,” Hizashi stepped forward, voice rising slightly, hand reaching but not quite touching you. “Don’t twist this like I’m the bad guy here. I’ve been helping a trainee. You remember what that was like? I thought you’d understand.”

“I do understand,” you snapped, whirling around. “That’s how we met. That’s how we fell in love. Do you get that? Watching it happen all over again, only now I’m on the outside looking in? Yeah, it messes with your head a little.”

“Are you even hearing yourself?” he asked, frustration creeping into his voice. “You think I’m replacing you? That I don’t care about you just because I’m doing my job?”

“You cancelled on me for weeks to help her!”

“She needed me!”

“So did I!” you shouted, and the silence after it was deafening.

You stared at each other, breathing unevenly.

Then you said it, quieter: “And then, to top it off, you go and say you wish the staff knew better English… Knowing full well I’ve been trying for months to learn. For you. To help you.”

He ran a hand down his face, stepping back like the words physically struck him. “That wasn’t about you ”

“God, you never think it is, do you?” you bit out. “But it always is.”

“You’re not the only one with shit going on!” he snapped, and it shocked you enough to shut you up for a second. “You think this gig is easy? Juggling hero work, students, helping someone new find their footing? I’ve been tired, stressed, and yeah I dropped the ball. But I didn’t stop caring.”

“You have a hell of a way of showing it,” you muttered.

He narrowed his eyes. “Right. But it’s totally fine when you get flown into work by Keigo, right? When he’s got his hands all over you, and you’re laughing with him like nothing matters?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t you dare throw that at me. You’ve known since day one that Keigo’s my best friend. I told you from the beginning, and I’ve never made you feel second to him.”

“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you snapped, and there it was the final crack in your voice, the pain boiling over. “I’ve watched you push me aside for weeks. I’ve stayed patient, understanding. But the second I don’t jump when you suddenly remember I exist, now I’m the one in the wrong?” He looked away for a second just a second. You took a sharp breath. “You don’t get to be mad now. You had weeks to fix this. You said nothing.”

“That’s not fair ”

“It is exactly fair,” you snapped. “You don’t get to throw jealous fits over me and Hawks when you’ve been prioritizing a trainee over your girlfriend.”

There was a silence then one that felt like it had weight. Like it was pressing down on your ribs. Hizashi didn’t have that easy smile anymore. “I didn’t realize how bad it was,” he muttered.

“That’s the problem.”

You grabbed your bag from the floor, slinging it over your shoulder. “I need air,” you said, voice strained and low.

He stood there, frozen in place, your anger still ringing in his ears. His throat was dry. His hands hung limp at his sides. That wasn’t how he ever wanted you to look at him like he was someone you had to defend yourself from. You weren’t just upset. You were hurt. And it gutted him.

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face again. “What the hell did I do?”

“You acted like an idiot.”

Hizashi jumped actually jumped as Aizawa’s voice drawled from behind the couch. He turned slowly to see his best friend leaning against the doorframe with a look that managed to be both deadpan and mildly disappointed. “Seriously?” Hizashi said weakly. “Were you just hiding in here this whole time?”

“Didn’t want to interrupt the fireworks,” Aizawa said dryly, stepping fully into the room. “But now that the explosion’s over…” He tilted his head, gaze sharp. “You okay?”

“No,” Hizashi admitted, voice cracking the tiniest bit. “Not even a little.”

Aizawa said nothing for a moment, letting the silence do its job. Hizashi slumped into a chair, elbows on knees, head in his hands. “I messed up, Shouta.”

“Yes,” Aizawa said plainly. “You did.”

“I wasn’t cheating,” Hizashi mumbled. “I never would. I just… I didn’t realize she felt like I was pushing her away.”

“You weren’t cheating,” Aizawa agreed, “but you were neglecting her. And letting some new girl hang off your arm like a pet cat in front of your girlfriend? Real genius move.”

“I wasn’t thinking ”

“No,” Aizawa interrupted, “you weren’t” Hizashi flinched, the words hitting harder because they were true. He had promised. That night in bed, years of friendship turned to love between them, he had whispered that he’d never be the kind of man who left her questioning her worth. But that’s exactly what he’d done. “And now,” Aizawa said, walking past him toward the door again, “you get to fix it. If she lets you.”

Hizashi’s head lifted, face hollow. “You really think she believes I… that I’ve been unfaithful?”

Aizawa paused, one foot out the door. “She believes whatever you showed her was more important than her. What else is she supposed to think?” He looked back at Hizashi. “Figure out how to remind her she’s your priority. Or don’t come crying to me when she stops waiting around.”

With that, he left. Leaving Hizashi alone again with the ghost of your tears, the echo of your words, and the sharp realization that he had become the very man he swore he’d never be.

You sat on the low stone ledge near the far side, legs lazily crossed, arms resting against your knees, and a cigarette between your fingers. The familiar burn in your lungs wasn’t comforting. Not really. But it was something. The crack of the courtyard door opening didn’t startle you. You didn’t even turn your head when you heard the familiar footsteps louder than necessary, like always. He wasn’t sneaking up on you. But he was hesitating.

“I thought you quit,” Hizashi’s voice said softly behind you.

You took a long drag instead of answering. The cherry tip glowed brightly, and when you exhaled, the smoke curled upward toward the slowly darkening sky. You didn’t look at him. Not yet. “Yeah?” you muttered, eyes still focused on the horizon. “I didnt know you cared.” Your voice was flat, not accusatory but sharp all the same. It cut more than you probably intended.

He flinched. There was a beat of silence, heavy and filled with unsaid words. Then Hizashi took a slow, cautious step closer. You could hear the way his breath hitched, how he struggled for something anything to say that wouldn’t just make it worse. He didn’t find it. So instead, without asking, he came up behind you and slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

His warmth bled through the tension in your back. His cheek brushed the top of your head, breath stirring strands of your hair. His hands didn’t grip you tightly he wasn’t holding you hostage. He was holding you like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. You didn’t move. You just stared out into the sky, eyes glassy and blank. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You didn’t reply. Not right away. Eventually, your cigarette burned down, and you flicked the butt into the gravel. “Don’t say sorry if you’re just gonna do it again,” you said quietly. “We are barely new, how am I supposed to know its true”

He let the words sink in, and for once… he didn’t rush to defend himself. He didn’t pull away either. He just stood there, arms around you like he was still hoping you’d lean back into him again. Hoping that this wasn’t the end. That your silence was only temporary. “I don’t know why I made you feel that way,” Hizashi said after a long moment. “But I believe you when you say I did.”

You finally tilted your head, enough to glance at him from the corner of your eye. The look on his face was miserable eyes rimmed red, lips pressed into a thin, regretful line. You sighed, voice rasping from the smoke. “I didn’t want to light one. Just… felt like if I didn’t do something, I was gonna explode.”

“I should’ve been there before it got to that point.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, turning back to the horizon.

His arms tightened just a bit, and you didn’t stop him. You didn’t know how long you two stood there. His arms were still wrapped around your shoulders, but you hadn’t leaned into them. Not yet. You weren’t ready. He was warm familiar. But familiarity didn’t erase what had happened. Not this time.

Your voice broke the silence again, quiet and tired, with something bitter tangled between the words. “Why did you let it get to this point?”

Hizashi stiffened, just barely, but you felt it. “I mean…” you continued, your gaze still cast toward the purpling horizon, “I never hid anything from you. When I worked with Keigo, when I spent time around other people I always kept you in the loop. I never gave you a reason to doubt me.” He didn’t say anything, so you pushed forward, the words thick in your throat now. “But then she shows up and suddenly I’m… background noise? Like the only difference between me and her is that I made the effort. And it didn’t even matter.”

Hizashi’s arms dropped away from your shoulders. Not because he was pulling away but because what you said landed too hard. He stepped around to face you now, his expression full of something raw and unfamiliar. His mouth parted, trying to find something to say anything to fight back with. But he didn’t have it. “I…” he began, then faltered. “I didn’t mean to forget you.”

“That’s the thing,” you whispered. “You didn’t forget. You chose not to see me.”

That stung him more than anything you’d said. His eyes dropped to the ground as his hand dragged through his hair, pushing his sunglasses up into his forehead. “I thought I was just busy. You know?” he said, his voice shaky. “I kept telling myself that. That I had a lot on my plate, that she needed help, that things would go back to normal. But… I wasn’t that busy.” You watched him watched the guilt crawl over every inch of his face like a slow, crushing weight. “I don’t know why I didn’t check in with you. Why I didn’t stop to notice how far we were drifting,” he said. “I was so used to you being there. To us just… working.”

You looked down at your hands, arms crossed now over your chest like a barrier. “That’s the thing, Zashi. You didn’t even notice when I wasn’t anymore.”

He flinched. “I thought you were fine,” he murmured.

You laughed, bitter and hollow. “You hoped I was fine. There’s a difference.” The wind picked up around you both, ruffling your hair. You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, jaw tight. “I know I’m not perfect,” you said, quieter now. “I know I get emotional and I overthink and maybe I even get a little jealous sometimes. But I try. I tried so damn hard. And it just felt like… the second someone shiny and new came along, all of that meant nothing.”

“I never meant to make you feel like you were replaceable,” Hizashi said, his voice cracking around the edges. “Because you’re not. You never have been.”

You finally looked him in the eyes, and his heart ached at what he saw there. “I used to believe that,” you whispered.

Hizashi reached out like he wanted to hold your hand. You didn’t move. Not yet. He just stood there, heart in pieces, wondering how the hell he let the best thing in his life feel forgotten. His silence had stretched too long, and your chest hurt from how hard you were holding everything in.

So you said it. You just let it fall out. “I’ve been thinking about moving back to Kyushu.” Hizashi’s head snapped up. His eyes searched yours instantly, like maybe he didn’t hear you right. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you continued, voice barely steady. “Teaching. Trying to build something here when everything feels so messy. And painful.” He stared at you in stunned disbelief. “That was my dream, y’know?” You tried to laugh but it cracked in the middle. “Helping kids, being here, standing beside you guys and showing students there’s more to being a hero than fighting.” Your voice dipped low. “But now, when I walk down the halls, I feel like a shadow of myself. I feel like maybe… I wasn’t meant to be here after all.”

“Don’t say that,” Hizashi breathed, shaking his head slowly.

“You think I haven’t thought about it?” you went on, sharper now. “Kyushu’s where my agency is. It’s where I started. I could just go back. Do solo work. I wouldn’t have to feel like I’m chasing something that doesn’t want me anymore.”

He looked wrecked. The words hadn’t even fully left your mouth before tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over as he took a small, broken step forward. “You can’t,” he said, voice cracking. “You can’t leave.”

“Hizashi ”

“No ” he cut in, his voice trembling with something desperate now. “Don’t don’t go. Don’t leave because of me.” You opened your mouth, but he rushed forward this time, taking your hands in his. “I’m the reason you’re thinking of walking away from something you love, and that’s not okay,” he whispered. “I promised I would never hurt you, and now you’re standing here thinking you don’t belong in the place you made your home.” His voice was a whisper now, heavy with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

You blinked, your own throat tightening.

“If you go back to Kyushu,” he said, “I know what that could mean. And I’m scared, because I don’t know if I deserve to ask you to stay.” You stared at him Hizashi Yamada, usually so loud, so confident, now trembling as he cried in front of you. “But I am asking,” he said, breath hitching. “Stay. Please. I’ll do everything anything to fix this. I’ll support you in whatever you need. Just… don’t go. Don’t leave me behind.” The silence between you throbbed.

♬.ᐟIt was the kind of morning that almost made you forget the ache in your chest. Almost. But not quite.After yesterday’s storm, today came gently. The first message you saw on your phone wasn’t a cancellation. It was a simple “Good luck today. I love you.” And that… was something.

You pulled your pro hero coat on, adjusted the hem. Today, you were helping out with the Big Three. As you approached Training Ground Gamma, where they were already warming up, the sight of those three familiar faces made your heart ease a little more.

“Hey, hey!” Neijire waved with both arms, practically hopping in place. “You’re our coach today?! We’re so lucky!!”

You laughed as she barreled into you with an enthusiastic hug, nearly knocking the breath out of you.

“Yup,” you grinned, ruffling her hair. “You are lucky my little birds.”

Mirio appeared beside you in a blink. “Since when are we stealing Hawks lines?”

“ Hey I dont have a thing yet let me build up” you replied simply.

“Youre too pretty for that, you dont need fun phrases to be cool” Neijire teased.

The warmup didn’t last long. You didn’t need to ease them into anything “All right,” you called out, stretching your arms as you stood in the center of the sparring zone. “Three on one. Real time decision making, teamwork, and pressure. Hit me like I’m a villain you’ve got one shot at stopping. Go.”

“Exciting!” Mirio grinned as he jogged up beside you, practically glowing in the sunlight. “Man, it’s been too long since we trained together. I thought you were getting all fancy and forgetting about the little people!”

You gave him a look. “You three are the most unforgettable students I’ve ever met. I’d lose sleep before I forgot any of you.”

Mirio moved first as he phased into the ground and launched himself up at your back. You twisted, touching the concrete and storing the kinetic energy from your spin, and when he appeared behind you, you redirected that energy straight into his gut with a palm strike that launched him skyward.

“Woah!” he laughed mid air. “She’s not pulling any punches!”

Tamaki’s tentacles shot toward you from the left, sleek and glistening with octopus suction. You dropped low, sliding beneath his attack, then popped up just in time to absorb Neijire’s energy waves with your quirk. You winced her spirals hurt but you ground your foot into the dirt, storing the force. “You’ve gotten stronger,” you grunted, eyes sharp.

“You told me to go all out!” Neijire beamed, spinning mid air for a second shot.

“Good girl,” you smirked, and then unleashed your stored momentum in a sudden leap, clearing her wave entirely. The field crackled with motion. Tamaki conjured hardened crab claws this time, clashing with the side of your foot as you redirected him. You weren’t sure who was more shocked when your movement launched him backwards into a pile of barrels. Mirio reappeared, this time more careful. He phased through a shockwave you fired and managed to tag your shoulder with a solid punch.

“Nice,” you hissed, turning with a grin. “One point for you.”

He disappeared again. Typical. Neijire kept her waves steady now, switching between close quarters spirals and long range bursts. You deflected most of them but caught a few on your arm, gritting your teeth.

“ just a little too slow!” she teased.

“You’ve been practicing,” you said through clenched teeth.

“I always practice when I want to beat you!”

The match went on. No one slowed down. The sun blazed over your sweat slicked backs, and every clash hit harder than the last. You were keeping up but they weren’t holding back, and neither were you. The fire in your chest that had dulled these past weeks now burned white hot. This this was the version of you that you missed. Not the heartbroken one. Not the uncertain one. This was the pro hero. This was the reason you were still here. The match kept going, the four of you now panting between hits. Neijire’s hands glowed bright, Tamaki was shifting forms faster, and Mirio finally looked serious.

You cracked your knuckles. “One more round.” You smiled, eyes glinting. “Let’s go.”

None of you noticed the figure that entered the observation booth above the field. Leaning silently against the railing, Hizashi Yamadastood watching, his usual boisterous presence replaced by a quieter approach and he was staring only at you.

You were electric. He saw the way you danced through the fight, not just surviving the storm but bending it around you. You met Neijire’s blast with a redirected spiral of your own, stealing her momentum and turning it back on her forcing her to adapt midair. You took a hit from Tamaki’s hardened tentacles and used the recoil to leap back into Mirio’s blind spot.

His heart beat loudly in his ears. You were incredible. His incredible. He blinked slowly, guilt and awe washing together in his chest. He didn’t even realize he’d sent his TA off to help a few of the other staff until moments ago. Didn’t realize that his feet had carried him toward Ground Gamma, guided by instinct.

But now that he was here he couldn’t look away. God, how had he forgotten what this felt like? Watching you be a hero. You moved like you were born for this. Hizashi swallowed hard. His chest ached.

She’s been like this the whole time, he thought bitterly. I just stopped looking. Below, Mirio finally landed a solid punch and you slid back across the field with a grunt but you were grinning. “You guys are holding up better than I thought,” you said, breathless but playful. “Still not good enough, though.”

“Are you kidding?” Mirio panted. “I’ve never had so much fun getting beat up.”

He smiled faintly at that. She was glowing. She always did when she fought with heart. And right now, she was absolutely radiant. From his vantage point, Hizashi didn’t make a sound. All he did was watch with aching pride, the kind that twisted around the parts of him still hurting for how distant he’d been. All he thought was ‘That’s my girl.’

You were holding your own hell, you were more than that. You were commanding the field.

A flash of movement caught your eye from the far side of the field. You glanced toward it instinctively, adrenaline still high

and your heart stuttered.

Hizashi.

He was there, standing at the edge of the zone, partially obscured by a support pillar. No microphone, no shout, no big wave. Just standing there, watching you with a look on his face you hadn’t seen in weeks.

It made your chest tighten. Your foot caught awkwardly on the edge of a cracked panel beneath you as your balance shifted, breath catching “ Hey, Lumine, heads up!”

You didn’t even get a chance to react before Mirio’s boot collided with your face. You hit the ground hard, eyes wide, air punched straight out of your lungs. Pain radiated up from your cheekbone. You blinked at the sky, stunned. “ Shit, I’m so sorry!” Mirio said immediately, “Are you okay?!” Before he could even reach you, another figure bolted across the gym.

“HOLY SH ! Y/N!” Hizashi’s voice cracked, panic laced through every word. “Move Mirio, move!” The blonde teen scrambled out of the way just as Hizashi dropped to his knees beside you, hands shaking as he cupped your face.

“Hey hey, baby, talk to me. You okay?” His sunglasses were long gone. His eyes were wide and frantic as they searched yours. “Did you hit your head? Can you hear me?”

You blinked slowly, brain still catching up. “…I got kicked. In the face.”

Hizashi let out a relieved breath, half laughing, half aching. “Yeah, sweetheart, I saw that.”

“I’m okay,” you mumbled, sitting up slowly. “Not my best moment.”

He touched your cheek gently, fingertips brushing over the forming bruise. “Dumbass.”

You smiled weakly. “You distracted me.”

His face shifted guilt slipping in with the edges of a smile. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” you said, quieter now. Your hand found his on your cheek and held it there, grounding both of you.

Around you, the Big Three stood awkwardly nearby, exchanging looks and beginning to step away to give you space. Hizashi didn’t let go. He helped you up with careful hands, still watching your face like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Hizashi let out a breath, shaky and soft. His thumb brushed along your cheek, careful of any sore spots. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to throw you off. I just wanted to see you.”

you closed your eyes again, let him hold you for a little longer, and said nothing. None of them moved or even breathed too loudly. It was as if they were watching a scene they were never meant to see, something so gentle and intimate it made them feel like they’d stepped into the middle of a movie they hadn’t been invited to. Hizashi was crouched low, leveling his face with yours, and his voice had dropped to something soft and warm that none of the three had ever heard from him before.

“You sure?” he asked, still brushing hair out of your eyes. “Not dizzy? Not hurt anywhere?”

You giggled, breathless but amused. “Stop hovering, Mic. I’m fine.”

“Lemme hover a little,” he murmured, smirking.

You gave his chest a playful shove, and he exaggerated a wobble backward, laughing under his breath before leaning forward again. You reached up, cupping the side of his face briefly before pushing it away with a grin. “Seriously. You’re embarrassing me.”

Hizashi leaned in just enough to nuzzle your forehead before standing up and offering his hand. “Good. Just makin’ sure my girl isn’t dying out here.”

Still absolutely silent, the Big Three watched the scene unfold like statues. You took Hizashi’s hand, stood up, brushed yourself off, and gave him a quick wink. He smiled back, proud and clearly still watching you like you hung the stars. The moment ended as quickly as it came Hizashi stepped back and gave the three students a casual wave. “Yo, thanks for not breakin’ her too hard. She’s got, like, paperwork later.”

Neijire blinked, looking like she’d just watched a unicorn kiss a dragon. Mirio gave a delayed thumbs up. Tamaki still hadn’t moved. No one said a word and no one would. But something in the air between them said. Oh my god… they’re dating.

The heat of the spar had passed, and the students were off in the distance now, still trying to process what they’d witnessed. You leaned into him slightly, your body still humming from the match, muscles warm and buzzing with residual adrenaline. Hizashi’s arm was draped casually behind you, fingers absentmindedly threading through your hair, brushing along your scalp with a soft touch that completely contradicted the whirlwind of movement you’d been doing just minutes before. His attention wasn’t anywhere else but you. His eyes were on your face, his touch grounding.

You let the silence stretch between you for a few heartbeats before breaking it with a quiet voice. “You know…” you murmured, not quite looking at him, “Just because you’re being all soft and knight in shining hero right now doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you.”

His hand paused for only a second. Then he gave a quiet, grim laugh one without any real humor, his chest rising with a long exhale. “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “I figured.”

“You were…” he began, his voice lower and softer than usual. “You were unreal out there.”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What?”

“You were amazing,” he said with a breathless laugh, eyes full of something warm and wide. “I couldn’t stop watching. You moved like… I don’t even know. Just damn.” He let his head fall back a little as if replaying the whole match in his mind. “How did I get so lucky?” he turned toward you, more serious this time. “I don’t want to hide this anymore,” he said suddenly, voice full of conviction. “I don’t want to keep pretending we’re just coworkers in public. I want to be able to brag about you to everyone, hold your hand in the hallway, kiss you whenever the hell I feel like it.”

You blinked again, a little stunned. before you could stop him or even try he leaned in, cupped your cheek, and kissed you. Right there, no hesitation. The kiss was firm, soft, everything you’d been missing from him in the last few weeks. this time, it wasn’t just a stolen moment. It was real.

“OH MY GOD!!!” Neijire’s voice echoed across the field like a firecracker.

You both froze, lips still just parted, glancing sideways to see Neijire bouncing up and down with both hands on her face, practically vibrating with excitement. Tamaki had clearly shut down and turned away in secondhand embarrassment, while Mirio just grinned and gave you a double thumbs up.

Hizashi groaned, but his smile didn’t fade. In fact, it grew. He pulled you closer, both arms wrapped around you now, chin resting on the top of your head. “Welp. Cat’s out of the bag.”

You snorted into his chest. “You really didn’t want to ease into this?”

“Babe, easing in is for the uncool and uncommitted,” he murmured, tightening his hold on you. “I’m going all in.”

[sirxaibs]

Sanji Vinsmoke X Reader

Gimme Some Advice

masterlist

Synopsis: Me when I yearn. Me and I yearn but have a healthy relationship with my friends and knows not to be jealous but still allow myself to feel things

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡ You were sprawled out on a sun chair, kicking your legs back and forth and humming a random tune to yourself, still feeling giddy from the delicious meal Sanji had served earlier. Your hair fluttered in the wind, and your bright eyes scanned the open sea until

BAM. “[Y/N]!”

Sanji came flying across the deck like a torpedo, arms flailing for balance as he skidded to a halt in front of you. His shirt was untucked, cigarette barely hanging on his lip, and a wild, borderline panicked look in his eyes. You blinked. “…You okay there, Romeo?”

Sanji bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “I I need your help.”

Your brows lifted with curiosity and amusement. “What, did Luffy eat the last cookie again and you’re plotting revenge?”

“No, this is serious!”

You sat up straighter, suppressing a grin. “Okay, okay. What is it?”

Sanji straightened, brushed back his hair dramatically, and looked at you with those swirly, golden eyes as if he were about to confess some great truth.

“I need you to tell me… how to pull a woman.”

You stared at him.

Then burst into laughter. “I’m sorry what?”

Sanji flushed, his hands flying up. “I know! I know it sounds ridiculous coming from me, but I swear I’m being serious. Dead serious.”

You giggled, slapping a hand over your mouth. “Sanji, my darling, you throw yourself at women like it’s a sport. If flirting were a martial art, you’d be a black belt.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” Sanji groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It doesn’t work. I mean, not really. They just giggle or wave me off like I’m some harmless breeze. None of them take me seriously. And I I want to be taken seriously. Just once.”

You quieted at that, your expression softening. “Oh, Sanji…”

He sighed, leaning back against the rail, his face turned to the sea. “There’s this girl. Not someone on this ship,” he added quickly, glancing at you. “She’s kind and funny and strong. But when I talk to her, I get so nervous I just default to… you know.”

“the pathetic lover boy routine not enough for you?” you said innocently, batting your lashes.

Sanji shot you a look, lips twitching despite himself. “Yes, that.”

You hopped off the chair and padded toward him, poking his chest lightly. “Okay, lover boy. Let’s get one thing straight: You’re not failing because you flirt. You’re failing because you flirt like a cartoon heart attack. There’s nothing authentic about it..”

He blinked at you. “…Huh?”

You grinned. “There's nothing I'm complaining about, though. I think it's really cute. The best kind of complement is the one that sounds like you didn’t rehearse it a hundred times in the mirror.”

Sanji looked thoughtful. “But what if I mess up? Say something stupid?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Sanji, you do say something stupid every single time you meet a woman and they still smile at you. Imagine what would happen if you were just… you. The sweet, reliable, passionate, incredible cook who makes the best damn meals on the sea and puts his heart into everything he does.” Sanji’s ears turned pink. You leaned in, voice teasing. “That Sanji? That guy’s dreamy.”

He sputtered, waving smoke away from his cigarette. “S Stop saying things like that. I’m trying to focus!”

You giggled, twirling a lock of your hair. “Fine, fine. You want real advice?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” You folded your arms and nodded. “Step one: Calm down. You don’t need to win someone’s heart in ten seconds. Stop making it a performance and start making it a conversation.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay…”

“Step two: Ask her questions. Not just compliments. Be curious about who she is, not just how she looks.”

“Right…”

“And step three,” you said, tapping his forehead, “don’t chase. Just be. If she likes you, she’ll come closer. And if she doesn’t… you don’t need to change who you are to impress her.”

Sanji looked down at you genuinely, for a moment no exaggerated grin, no dramatic swoon. “You really think that’ll work?”

You smiled warmly. “I know it will. You’ve already got everything you need. You just need to believe someone could fall for you”

He stared at you in silence for a moment. “You’d make a hell of a love doctor, [Y/N].”

“I take payment in dessert,” you winked.

Sanji chuckled softly, then took a final drag of his cigarette and tossed it overboard. “Right away madamoiselle”

You shrugged playfully. “Good boy now go do your thing” As he turned to head back to the kitchen, you called after him, “Sanji?” He glanced back, his usual grin starting to sneak back into place. You smiled. “The right girl? She’ll see you. Just give her the chance.”

He gave you a mock salute. “Then I’ll make sure I’m someone worth seeing.” with that, he vanished into the galley.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The world was quiet tonight. The sea whispered gently against the hull of the Thousand Sunny, and the breeze that swept through the ship’s open deck was crisp, carrying the smell of salt and the faintest trace of spices from the galley below. The crew had all gone off to their own little corners of the ship some reading, some napping, and others chattering softly out of earshot.

You lay in the middle of the main deck, arms stretched out to your sides, eyes wide open to the tapestry of stars overhead. The wind moved through your hair, playing with strands like it was trying to keep you company. But the real comfort came from just a few feet away Brook sat atop a crate, bathed in the soft, swaying light of the lanterns above, his long bony fingers gliding across the strings of his violin.

It wasn’t his usual upbeat, silly melody the ones he played to make Chopper dance or to accompany some skull joke. No, this was something else. Something soft. Thoughtful. The kind of song that didn’t need lyrics to speak. It trickled into your chest like warm tea in cold hands. It held something gentle and aching in every note. You stared at the stars, your lashes still and unmoving. Your chest rose and fell in time with the music. And somewhere between the quiet and the chords, your mind drifted to him.

Sanji.

You let the name echo in your thoughts. You didn’t try to chase it away. You smiled faintly. He had fallen for someone. You didn’t know her. You didn’t need to. You could tell by the way he spoke, by the way he looked different lately. Softer, more grounded. Less dramatic for show, and more… sincere. Like there was someone he genuinely wanted to be better for. And gods, it was so like him. That hopeless romantic heart of his. That constant need to give everything to someone who made his heart flutter.

And you? You had always laughed with him. Teased him when he did his little twirls or dropped to one knee in front of any woman in a ten mile radius. You’d rolled your eyes, called him ridiculous, joked that his flirtations were more extra than Zoro’s vendetta against stairs.

But you’d never said the truth. Not once. That sometimes, when he smiled at you not as a flirt, but just you your heart would skip. That there were moments when you thought maybe… maybe you were the one he’d fall for if he ever took a real chance. But he hadn’t. he was chasing someone else. Someone who made him nervous. You let out a soft breath, eyes still on the stars, a weight pressing gently against your ribs.

It wasn’t a jealous hurt. You were happy for him. Truly. It was just the kind of ache that came from wondering what if. Brook’s melody shifted slightly higher, like a question being asked in the dark. As if he knew.

You didn’t move. You didn’t cry. You just felt. Because it was okay to feel it. To mourn something that was never yours. To lie under the stars and let the music carry the weight of your silence.

you thought of him. Of the way his voice softened when he wasn’t being loud. Of how he always made your plate first when he knew you were having a bad day. Of how, sometimes, you imagined what it would be like if those small gestures were something more. Your fingers curled slightly against the wood. Another breeze passed over you, lifting your hair gently, and you blinked slowly, your gaze still locked on the sky.

The music swelled one last time before fading into the hush of the ocean, Just one song. One quiet night. One unspoken heartache. And then the world was still again. You lay there, unmoving, letting the silence settle. though the ache was still there, something inside you softened too like maybe, even if the story you wanted wasn’t yours, the chapter was still worth feeling.

“Did you know,” Brook began, his voice soft in the night air, “that the stars you see are sometimes already dead?”

You blinked slowly, then smiled, lips barely curving. “That’s… kind of depressing, Brook.”

“Yohoho, perhaps,” he chuckled lightly, “but it’s also strangely beautiful, don’t you think? That something can shine even after it’s gone.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. I guess I like that.”

There was a beat of silence, “Do you think Luffy’s ever tried to eat a star?”

You snorted. “Absolutely. ”

Brook let out a full laugh, his ribs gently rattling with the motion. “I should write that down for a new lyric. ‘I reached for a star and bit down on a dream delicious!’”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “That is so cheesy.”

Another comfortable pause settled between you. You listened to the creak of the ship, the soft splash of water against the hull, and the distant thrum of something in the engine room probably Franky still working on some little project with his usual midnight energy.

Brook tilted his skull back. “Do you think fish sleep?”

“I think they have to. Maybe with one eye open. Like Zoro.”

Brook nodded solemnly. “Scary.”

You giggled and rolled over onto your stomach, resting your chin on your forearms. “What about skeletons? Do they sleep?”

Brook tapped his chin. “Hmm… difficult to say. I don’t have eyelids, so I’ve never actually seen myself do it.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Not as exhausting as trying to take a bath when you don’t have skin.”

“Brook, what ”

“And on the subject of things I can’t do… may I see your panties?”

You stopped. Deadpan. Emotionless. You slowly pushed yourself up from the deck, brushing some hair from your face as you gave him the flattest look in the history of facial expressions.

Brook clasped his hands politely. “it would be such a lovely gesture.”

You pointed toward the hallway with a single, resigned finger. “You’re done.”

He blinked. “Oh?”

“You’re done,” you repeated, standing up and brushing off your clothes. “That’s it. Conversation’s over. Pack it up, skeleton.”

“Wait, my dear! I merely !”

You walked off toward the girls’ quarters without another word, your hand raised in a lazy wave behind you.

“Goodnight, Brook.”

He sighed behind you. “Ah, the pain of rejection. It cuts deeper than the Grand Line’s fog!”

You kept walking, hiding your smile. from behind you, drifting in the sea kissed night, came a final, cheerful:

“Sweet dreams! Yohohohoho!”

You shook your head as the door closed behind you, smiling to yourself. Even heartbreak couldn’t compete with this crew’s ridiculousness.

The soft creak of the ship accompanied your entrance as you returned to the girls’ quarters, your steps light but tired from the long, quiet moment you’d had with Brook on the deck. You rubbed your arms absentmindedly as you passed the threshold, the warm lamplight casting a cozy glow across the room.

Nami was sprawled comfortably on the couch with a drink in hand, her legs tucked under her, a mischievous glint already dancing in her eyes. Robin sat nearby in an armchair, book in hand, but she looked up as you entered.

“There she is,” Nami announced, smirking knowingly as she took another sip. “Have fun with our resident skeleton?”

You plopped down beside her with a hum, grabbing a pillow to hug against your chest. “It was nice. He played something soft. Kinda hit me in the heart a little.”

Robin’s smile deepened slightly. “Brook’s music often does.”

Nami raised a brow. “I have a love hate relationship with that man”

“Well…I couldnt blame you” You grinned. “It got weird eventually. I left before he could ask about my underwear.”

“EW LETS BURN HIM” Nami choked, laughing.

“shhhhh bed time now,” you confirmed, deadpan.

Nami snorted, shaking her head before she shifted back to her earlier topic with Robin, eyes alight with playful mischief. “I’m just saying,” she said, raising her glass again, “whoever this woman is… poor, poor soul. She has no idea what she’s walking into.”

You wheezed, pressing the pillow to your face. “Nami!”

“I mean it!” she cackled. “Can you imagine Sanji not spinning around like a lovesick ballerina the second she smiles at him? He’d probably burst into a heart shaped firework just from holding her hand.”

Robin chuckled behind her book, one elegant brow lifting. “He does tend to be… passionate.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed, eyes watering,

“Don’t forget the nosebleed,” Nami added, clinking her glass in the air.

The room burst into another round of giggles, warm and breathless, echoing softly around the cabin. It felt like home. But then your smile softened. You clutched the pillow a little tighter and leaned back against the cushions, your laughter quieting as your thoughts drifted slightly. “…I think it’s kind of cute, though,” you murmured.

Nami blinked and looked over. “What, that he’s basically a walking romance novel?”

You shook your head, smiling more to yourself than to them. “No. That he’s finally trying to take something seriously.”

Robin gently set her book down, her eyes curious and warm. Nami tilted her head, her teasing expression melting into one of genuine interest. You took a breath and let your voice settle. “I mean, sure, Sanji flirts like he’s getting paid for it. But this time? It’s different. He actually cares. You can see it in how he talks, how he moves. Like… he wants to be better. Not just charming genuine. That’s kind of huge for him.”

Nami leaned her elbow against the armrest, watching you closely. Her smirk faded into something quieter.

“He asked me for advice,” you added, fingers fiddling with the edge of the pillow. “that's so lame and cute”

Robin offered a soft, thoughtful smile. “It sounds like he’s growing.”

You nodded. “Yeah. And I know we all tease him believe me, I’ll never stop but part of me is proud of him, you know? He’s not trying to win over a dozen hearts. Just one.”

There was a quiet moment. The kind that wrapped around you like a soft blanket. Even the waves outside seemed to hush themselves. Nami exhaled loudly and flopped back. “Ugh. I hate that you made that sound sweet.”

You burst out laughing, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Because it is! He’s ridiculous, but he’s sincere when it counts.”

Nami pointed at you with a lazy glare. “If this ends with him writing sonnets and reciting them at dinner, I will throw myself overboard.”

“Good,” you grinned, “I’ll write your eulogy.”

Robin’s smile turned amused again. “Maybe the sea really will turn to wine next.”

You stretched out with a yawn, heart just a little lighter than before. “Or maybe our little chef’s finally found someone worth changing for.”

The room quieted again, the gentle rhythm of the ship rocking beneath you. Somewhere in the galley, a chair scraped faintly, a sign that Sanji was still awake, maybe cleaning, maybe daydreaming.

The kitchen was clean. Spotless, even. Every dish dried and put away, the counters gleaming, the scent of lemon and herbs still lingering faintly in the air.

Sanji stood alone at the center island, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, the other loosely holding a bottle of wine he hadn’t poured yet. The glass in front of him remained empty, catching the golden glow from the overhead lanterns.

His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, collar a little undone. His tie hung around his neck, loose and forgotten. His hair fell in front of his eyes in soft curls as he hunched over the counter and let out a long, slow breath.

“…Idiot,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “Stupid, stupid idiot.”

The cork creaked as he pulled it out of the wine bottle, then set it aside. He didn’t pour it yet just stared at the glass like it had personally offended him.

“Of course you asked her for advice,” he mumbled sarcastically, voice full of self mockery. “Genius move, really. Go ask the woman you’re in love with how to win someone else over. Brilliant. Next level romance tactics.”

He sighed, dropping into one of the stools, elbows on the counter, bottle still in hand.

“She probably thinks I’m pathetic. No worse. She probably pities me.” He leaned his head forward until it thudded lightly against the counter. “And then she said I was cute.”

His face flushed immediately.

His voice dropped to a quieter murmur, warm with memory. “She said I was cute just the way I am.”

He let the thought hang in the silence, echoing a little louder in the privacy of the kitchen than it had in the moment it happened. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard.

She’d said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was obvious.

Sanji rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twitching. “So what do you do, huh?” he asked no one. “You take that… softness, that little bit of warmth, and you turn around and act like your heart belongs to someone else? You let her believe that?”

He sat back up and finally poured the wine. The liquid splashed neatly into the glass, dark and rich. He stared at it, jaw tight.

“She probably thinks I’m in love with this new pretend woman. And I let her think that.”

He took a sip. He winced.

“Idiot.”

The word came out smaller this time. Not angry. Just… tired. He swirled the glass slowly, watching the way the wine clung to the sides. What was he even doing?

It wasn’t that he meant to lie. He just… panicked. He didn’t know how to say, “Hey, it’s you. It’s been you.” Not without ruining everything. Not without seeing her look at him with pity or worse, discomfort.

So instead, he twisted the truth into something safe. Something that would let her stay close, even if it meant she’d never know the real reason his heart pounded every time she smiled. And now here he was. With wine. And a thousand regrets. Sanji leaned back in his stool and stared at the ceiling.

“…That Sanji? That guy’s dreamy..”

He smiled faintly. Just for a second.

Then he took another drink and muttered again, quietly: “Yeah. Still an idiot.”

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The sun rose bright and golden, casting warm beams across the deck of the Thousand Sunny. The sea was calm today blue skies, soft waves, and the smell of salt on the breeze. It was the kind of morning that promised a good day, or at the very least, a good breakfast.

You stepped out from the girls’ quarters with a sleepy yawn, your hair a little messy and your shirt slightly rumpled from tossing in bed. The moment your feet touched the deck, you felt it a strong pair of hands grabbed yours and spun you into the air.

“FOOOOOOD!!” Luffy shouted, laughing with wild energy.

“Luffy!” you squealed, dizzy but giggling as he twirled you around in a circle like a child with a new toy.

“I can smell it! Sanji’s cooking something amazing!” he cried, holding your hands as he danced with you in a crooked circle. “It’s meat day, I know it!”

You laughed breathlessly as he practically bounced on his heels, his enthusiasm contagious. “You say that every day!”

“Yeah, because I want it every day!” Luffy grinned, his wide, carefree smile beaming down at you. “Sanji’s meat is the best meat ever!”

“Phrasing, Luffy,” Nami said dryly from behind, stepping up onto the deck with a stretch and a mug of coffee.

Robin followed her, calm as ever, a book already tucked under one arm. “Morning,” she greeted softly.

“Morning!” you chirped, finally freed from Luffy’s grasp and straightening your shirt with a grin. “Someone’s fired up today.”

“Sanji’s breakfast are always special,” Luffy said seriously, his head already swiveling toward the galley. “He’s gonna make the eggs all fancy again, I can feel it in my soul.”

“You don’t have a soul,” Zoro muttered from where he was leaning against the railing, clearly only half awake.

“YOU don’t have a soul!” Luffy snapped back without hesitation.

You laughed as Chopper popped up beside you, sniffing the air excitedly. “Is that cinnamon? I think he’s making pancakes too!”

“Cinnamon and meat?!” Luffy gasped, dramatically grabbing you again by the shoulders and shaking you gently. “WE’RE GOING TO HAVE THE BEST FOOD EVER!”

You snorted. “Luffy, please. I haven’t even had water yet.”

From inside the galley, the sound of pots clanging and something sizzling filled the air, along with the unmistakable scent of breakfast being prepared with far too much care for people who would inhale it in under ten minutes. Sanji’s silhouette passed by the window briefly, towel over his shoulder, cigarette hanging from his mouth, sleeves already rolled up. He was in his element.

“C’mon, let’s set the table!” Chopper called, already hurrying to grab the cutlery.

Luffy started dragging you with him, eyes sparkling. “Come on come on come on come ooooon!”

You stumbled along after him with a laugh, glancing once toward the galley door as you passed. You caught the faintest glimpse of Sanji inside, wiping his hands and adjusting a tray of fruit focused, meticulous, and humming under his breath. He didn’t look up. Still, the sight made your chest warm for a second.

“FOOD!” Luffy yelled again.

And just like that, your feet left the deck once more as the world spun in circles and laughter echoed in the salt sweet air.

The dining table was already packed with plates steaming stacks of cinnamon pancakes, golden and fluffy, with fresh berries glistening like jewels. Plates of sliced fruit and scrambled eggs surrounded platters of sizzling meat, toast with butter that melted on contact, and glasses of fresh juice so vibrant they looked like sunlight in a cup. Everyone was in their place, Luffy practically vibrating with excitement as he bounced in his seat, holding himself back with visible restraint. Chopper was wide eyed, murmuring a small, “Wow,” under his breath. Brook had already begun singing softly to himself in the background, adding a calm rhythm to the buzz of morning chatter.

And then came Sanji.

He emerged from the galley with the final tray a dish of roasted vegetables and sweet sausages, perfectly arranged. His sleeves were still rolled up, his apron dusted lightly with flour, and his hair slightly tousled from the heat of the kitchen.

“Ladies,” he announced with a low, charming bow, “your breakfast has arrived.”

He moved first to Nami, as always, placing her plate in front of her with graceful precision. “For you, my lovely Nami swan, with extra honey on your pancakes just the way you like.”

She smirked behind her mug of coffee. “Charming as always, Sanji.”

“And for you, divine Robin chwan,” he said next, setting her dish down with a delicate touch. “Light seasoning, a side of papaya, and just a pinch of powdered sugar.”

Robin gave him a small, pleased smile. “Thank you. You’re quite attentive.”

And then he turned to you.

You were mid sip of juice when he knelt beside you instead of merely leaning over. The tray he carried was smaller, more focused. A beautiful arrangement of all your favorites crispy hash browns, folded omelet with cheese and herbs, pancakes with caramel drizzle and sliced bananas, and a perfectly cut piece of grilled sausage shaped like a little heart.

“Mon trésor,” he said softly, offering the tray like it was a gift more than a plate. “Everything you love. And I made the syrup myself.”

Your breath caught slightly, caught off guard by the subtle, extra sparkle in his eyes. He looked… softer, not just playful. Like this breakfast wasn’t just breakfast. Like he’d memorized your taste for reasons he hadn’t admitted yet.

You blinked, then gave him a slow, teasing smile. “You didn’t carve a heart sausage for the others, did you?”

“No,” he replied smoothly. “Only for the one who deserves it.”

You felt Nami’s stare from the other side of the table and heard Luffy inhale sharply next to you like he’d just discovered something juicy.

“Sanji…” you said, eyes narrowing playfully, “what are you up to?”

“Nothing at all,” he lied, setting the plate down with a flourish. “Only offering the best to the woman who brightens this ship more than the sunrise.”

Robin chuckled quietly. Nami straight up snorted into her coffee.

You stared at him, suspicious and amused. “Is this still about mystery lady you like?”

Sanji didn’t answer right away. His smile twitched just slightly, eyes flickering across your face like he wanted to say something more but instead, he straightened with that classic, smooth grin.

“Only a fool wouldn’t treat someone as radiant as you like royalty,” he said simply, giving a little bow before turning away to serve the others. You glanced down at the heart shaped sausage. Something fluttered in your chest.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡You were mid bite into your syrup drenched pancakes when Nami slapped your shoulder with the back of her hand.

“OW !” you yelped, nearly dropping your fork. “What?!”

“Did you see that?!” she hissed, leaning in, her eyes wide with scandalized amusement.

“Mf what ?” you mumbled through a mouthful of food, blinking.

Nami grabbed a napkin and pretended to casually wipe her mouth, voice low and fast. “Girl, that wasn’t just flirting..”

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. You choked slightly.

Robin, still reading her book nearby, turned a page without looking up. “I think it was quite romantic.”

You turned to Nami, whispering hotly, “Okay, okay, I know, I’m sitting right here !”

Nami snickered, eyes sparkling like she was witnessing a live soap opera. “Don’t ‘I know’ me. I’ve never seen him look like that before. And he’s Sanji. His flirting is practically a weather system.”

You felt your face heat up, the kind of warmth that crept from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You reached for your juice, mostly for something to do with your hands. “Maybe he was just being… nice.”

“Oh yeah,” Nami drawled. “Super nice…. because he’s reaaaaaal nice”

You groaned into your hands. “Nami, please. He likes someone else, remember?”

That sobered her slightly. She leaned back, eyes narrowing with a more thoughtful glint. “Right. The ‘mystery woman.’” Then she gave you a side glance. “are you sure he said someone not on this ship?”

You bit your lip, still smiling on the outside, but there was a tug behind your ribs. A quiet little twist. Your eyes drifted back to the galley doors where he’d disappeared, probably humming while he finished up dishes or prepared Luffy’s inevitable third round. He’d looked so proud when he’d set your plate down. So sure of what he was doing. So… hopeful.

Nami tilted her head. “So… he’s head over heels and trying to grow a pair finally”

“Yeah.” You toyed with your juice glass, swirling the contents. “I think he actually wants it to mean something. For once.”

Nami let out a low whistle, then narrowed her eyes at you. “And how do you feel about that?”

You hesitated. “I mean… proud. I guess. I know we joke about how ridiculous he is, but… I think it’s really sweet he’s trying.”

She watched you for a beat too long. “But?”

Your smile faltered a little. You looked down at your plate.

“…But I feel kind of stupid,” you admitted softly.

Nami frowned. “Why?”

“Because the whole time I was helping him figure out how to win her over, I kept thinking…” You trailed off, then huffed a quiet laugh. “Never mind.”

Nami leaned closer. “Hey. Come on.”

You finally looked at her, cheeks warm. “I kept thinking how nice it would be if it was… me.”

There was a pause. Nami’s eyes softened. “Damn,” she whispered.

You elbowed her, laughing despite the ache in your chest. “Shut up.”

Robin closed her book with a soft snap. “Well… whoever she is, she must be someone very special.”

You smiled, a little more bittersweet this time, and took another bite of pancake. “Yeah,” you murmured. “She must be.”

Your fingers gently pushed a piece of banana around your plate.

He doesn’t love you. Not really. Even if part of him wants to. Even if you wish you’d said something before he asked for advice on how to love someone else.

Still blushing, you turned back to Nami, managing a weak grin. “I think I need more juice.”

as you stood, your eyes lingered one last time toward the galley. Just in time to see Sanji peek out just briefly like he was checking if you were enjoying your meal. Your heart squeezed, and you looked away before your smile gave too much away. He was trying so hard. Too bad it wasn’t for you.

The kitchen was warm with the scent of baked bread and spices when you wandered in, the early morning hush broken only by the soft clink of utensils and the faint sound of Sanji humming to himself. He stood at the counter with his sleeves rolled up, focused on arranging plates like he was crafting art instead of breakfast.

You leaned against the doorway with a small grin.

“Morning, loverboy.”

He jolted ever so slightly, a spoon slipping from his fingers and bouncing on the counter with a quiet clatter. “Tch must you sneak up on me like that?”

“I announced myself,” you said, walking in. “You’re just easy to rattle before coffee.”

He glanced over his shoulder, giving you a crooked smile. “If I’m rattled, it’s only because an angel wandered into my kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t waver as you made your way toward the pitcher of juice near the sink.

“I’m just here for this,” you said, reaching for a glass.

But before you could pour it, Sanji stepped beside you, brushing past with effortless grace. His hand slipped gently around your waist not holding, not lingering, just enough to move you an inch to the side so he could reach the pitcher.

“Allow me,” he said smoothly, as if he did this every morning. As if his hand hadn’t just sent a ripple of heat straight up your spine.

He poured the juice calmly, setting the glass down in front of you with a soft “Here you go.”

You took it, blinking, and looked down for a second to ground yourself before flashing him a smile.

“Thanks.”

Sanji leaned against the counter casually, watching you with that faint smile of his, the one that held just enough softness to make your chest feel tight. You took a sip, pretending not to notice the way your skin still buzzed faintly where he’d touched you. “Breakfast smells good.”

“Only the best for my favorite ladies,” he said smoothly

You looked down into your juice. “The food was delicious”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Im happy that I could be of service”

You glanced at him from over the rim of your glass. “You do that everyday amazingly”

He tilted his head, just the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I just like the smile it puts on your face.”

You nearly choked. You lifted your glass. “Careful, chef. Keep that up and the mysterious girl you’re into might get jealous.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. You meant it as a joke. A tease. A shield. Sanji’s smile faltered just for a second. His gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable there.

Then he laughed, but it was quieter this time. “I'm sure she wouldn’t mind.”

You turned slightly, sipping your juice to hide your expression. Your heart did something unhelpful and fluttery. The touch of his hand still lingered like a phantom against your waist. “Well,” you said, eyes on the glass, “if she’s smart, she’ll hold on tight.”

You didn’t look back as you walked out, but you felt his gaze trail after you all the way to the door.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡ cobblestone streets winding between open stalls, music playing faintly in the distance, and the smell of fresh pastries wafting through the air. With no mission scheduled, the Straw Hats had the rare gift of a free day on land. Naturally, you and Usopp took full advantage of it. You’d only been out for five minutes and had already stopped at three shops none of which you bought anything from. “Okay,” you said, holding up a ridiculous, oversized feathered hat from a vendor’s stall. “If I wear this, you think people will start treating me like royalty?”

Usopp struck a dramatic pose beside you. “You're so ratchet but it might work if I’m your royal advisor slash bodyguard slash legendary sniper.”

“So, your usual job?”

“Exactly,” he said proudly. “But Id be more likea knight and shining armour”

You snorted, putting the hat on Usopp’s head instead. “There. Now you look like a circus magician with tax fraud.”

He gasped in mock betrayal. “You take that back! This hat is limited edition!”

“Limited to what? Crimes against fashion?”

The vendor, who’d been quietly observing your antics, stifled a laugh while pretending to dust off some trinkets. Usopp adjusted the hat “You laugh now, but when I unveil my next great invention Usopp’s Amazing Weather Manipulation Cloak everyone will be begging to buy this look.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, starting to walk down the street with him. “And what does this miracle cloak do?”

He puffed out his chest. “Simple. It changes the weather according to your mood. Sunny when you’re happy, storms when you’re mad ”

“So basically, you want to create a walking hazard to public safety? we will be taking away Nami’s job”

“Exactly!”

You cackled, nearly tripping over a barrel. “God, it’s a good thing Chopper’s the doctor and not you.”

“Hey! My inventions have some scientific basis!”

You gave him a look. “Like when you tried to glue mirrors to your boots so you could ‘sneak around corners’?”

Usopp immediately turned red. “That was strategic! I was testing the laws of physics!”

“You blinded yourself.”

“shall we not dwell on the past you fiend”

You were both doubled over laughing by now, dodging around carts and weaving between market stalls. A group of kids ran past you squealing, and you barely missed getting smacked in the face with a balloon on a string. You eventually slowed near a little fountain in the town square, both of you catching your breath.

Usopp leaned on the edge of the fountain dramatically. “Man… why cant all days we stay like this.”

You took a sip from your water bottle and collapsed beside him on the ledge. “That isnt great warrior of the sea of you.”

The breeze picked up, brushing through your hair, and you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment just long enough for Usopp to break it. “Do you think Sanji would survive if we came back wearing matching ‘I ❤️ Zoro’ shirts?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “No. He’d implode.”

“immediate death then we’d get kicked off the ship.”

The sun glinted off the surface of the fountain water as you sat side by side with Usopp, still catching your breath from all the laughter. A light breeze picked up, rustling the colorful banners strung between rooftops and carrying the smell of sea salt and warm bread.

You were about to comment on how this was the first day in a while that felt truly peaceful when Usopp suddenly elbowed your arm.

“Hey, hey,” he said, nodding toward a stall across the square, “look who’s working his magic.”

You followed his gaze and immediately spotted Sanji. He was standing by a small fruit stall, all smiles and flowing compliments. The woman behind it a pretty local vendor was blushing furiously as Sanji offered to help carry something for her. His hand brushed hers lightly, and he flashed that dazzling, practiced grin you’d seen him give a thousand times before.

You swallowed, your smile fading just slightly. You tried to hide it, keeping your tone light.

“Guess that’s her, huh?” you murmured, glancing down at your hands in your lap.

Usopp blinked. “Her?”

You nodded faintly. “The one he asked me advice about. Makes sense, doesn’t it? We’ve been on this island for a week. He probably met her on one of those early grocery runs or something.”

Usopp looked back at the scene Sanji carefully adjusting the strap on the woman’s basket, saying something low that made her giggle and then back at you.

You gave a small sigh, more to yourself than anything. “She’s really pretty.”

Usopp’s face scrunched up, seeing the drop in your expression. “Hey, hey don’t go all mopey on me. You don’t even know if that’s the girl. He flirts with everything that moves.”

You laughed, despite yourself, but it was a little quieter than usual. Usopp, sensing he needed to go full Usopp mode, jumped to his feet. “Alright,” he said dramatically, striking a pose. “There’s only one thing to do in moments of emotional distress.”

You looked up, suspicious. “Usopp, what are you ”

“ Distraction via comedy!” he yelled, grabbing your hand with a flourish. “Come on, I’ll perform the Dance of a Thousand Legends!”

“What?!”

Before you could brace yourself, he spun you in an overly exaggerated twirl your legs tangled, your foot caught on the edge of the fountain

And with a splash, you were completely submerged in the cool, shallow water.

Usopp’s eyes went wide. “NO NO WAIT THAT WASN’T ”

You popped up, soaked from head to toe, blinking water out of your lashes, hair plastered to your cheeks.

“…Usopp,” you said slowly, voice eerily calm.

He held up both hands. “In my defense, that was the wind.”

You arched a brow, lips twitching despite yourself. “The wind spun me into the fountain?”

“It was a team effort.”

A beat of silence passed. Then you both cracked up. Laughter echoed around the fountain again, loud and genuine and ridiculous. A few people turned to look, but you didn’t care. Usopp offered you his hand with a grin, and this time, you took it just to yank him in with you. Another splash. Another shriek. Now you were both drenched, flailing in the fountain like overgrown children. You forgot about Sanji. You forgot about the girl. For the moment, there was just laughter, water, and one very amazing best friend who knew exactly how to pull you back to the surface.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The dock came into view, and you and Usopp were practically wheezing from laughter as you stumbled down the path toward the ship, clothes still slightly damp from your earlier fountain mishap. Your makeshift T shirts handwritten in bold, messy letters with black marker proudly declared:

“I ❤️ ZORO”

Usopp kept pausing every few steps to bend over, hands on his knees, cackling like he hadn’t laughed in years.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, holding your side. “The look on his face is going to kill me.”

“I’m not ready,” Usopp panted, straightening up. “We need to be serious. Completely serious. No laughing.”

You immediately broke into another fit of laughter. “I already can’t breathe, how do you expect me to be serious?”

When the ship came fully into view, you shared a silent nod.

You both climbed up the ramp with as much drama as two theater kids about to win an award. The sun glinted off your ridiculous shirts as you stormed aboard like you were coming back from war. Zoro was on the deck, leaning against the mast with a toothpick in his mouth, sword at his hip, arms crossed like he definitely hadn’t been napping two minutes ago. His eyes flicked up in your direction and immediately narrowed.

You and Usopp struck matching poses. Team Rocket who?

“Zoro~!” you cooed, spinning in a slow circle to show off your shirt. “Look what we got made just for you~!”

Usopp threw both arms out. “We’re your number one fans!”

Zoro stared for a full second. “What the hell is wrong with you two.”

“Love does strange things to a person,” you said seriously, clutching your chest like you were about to faint.

“Speak for yourself,” Usopp added, holding his hand out to Zoro. “Your number one admirer. Autograph, please?”

Zoro’s face didn’t change. “You’re both idiots.”

“And proud,” you shot back with a wink.

Zoro turned, started walking away.

Usopp gasped. “Wait! Are you running from your feelings?”

“I swear, I will cut those shirts off you.”

“I’d love for you to try,” you said, chasing after him like a lovesick fangirl. “Zorooo~ come back~!”

Zoro grunted, picking up the pace, muttering something about needing to train which was definitely just code for escape. You and Usopp high fived triumphantly behind him, nearly doubled over with laughter.

“I’m giving us full credit,” you wheezed.

“As you should,” Usopp grinned. “This is peak comedy.”

The rest of the crew could only stare in confusion, amusement, or deep concern as the two of you continued your dramatic pursuit across the deck, yelling declarations of love at a very, very done swordsman. Somewhere near the helm, Franky raised an eyebrow, watching you dart after Zoro with your wet hair still dripping and marker all over your shirt. He blinked.

“…so like I need that shirt” he muttered.

Nami, passing by with a drink, didn’t look up. “No. No, you don’t.”

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The sun was low in the sky, casting a golden shimmer across the waves lapping gently against the docked ship. You stood near the edge of the deck, your still soaked hair dripping quietly onto the wood below as you twisted it in your hands, trying to wring out as much water as you could. The sea breeze lifted the ends of your hair and shirt, still clinging damply to your frame. Your laughter from earlier with Usopp had faded into a peaceful calm now, the kind that settles in after the hecticness dies down and your chest is sore from joy.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji stood just a few feet away frozen.

His cigarette hung lazily from his lips, forgotten.

The way the setting sun hit you glistening droplets trailing down your neck, the soft curve of your smile even in silence it was like something out of one of his daydreams. His heart gave a strange little flutter, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background. Sparkles. Literal sparkles.

He sighed, eyes softening like he didn’t even realize he was staring. then… he saw it. The shirt. “I ❤️ ZORO.”

His jaw clenched. The sparkles popped like a bubble. His eye twitched. “Zoro?” He looked around as if to yell “WHY ZORO?!” to the gods themselves.

Muttering something under his breath that might’ve included “blasphemous,” Sanji snuffed out his cigarette and made his way toward you, trying his best to look composed like his heart hadn’t just been broken by marker ink.

You heard soft footsteps behind you before you felt the gentle weight of a towel placed across your shoulders.

“Dry off properly,” Sanji said, voice low but kind. “You’ll catch a cold standing around like that.”

You blinked, looking over your shoulder at him in surprise.

“Oh thank you,” you said, taking the towel and patting your face first, then moving to your hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to leave a puddle. Again.”

He gave a small shake of his head, kneeling down slightly to help towel off the ends of your hair. “Don’t apologize. You looked like a drowned cat earlier. Now you look like a damp angel.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “You were doing so well. So close to normal.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, fingers brushing your shoulder briefly before pulling back. “You’re lucky I care whether you freeze to death.”

You looked at him then, soft towel still pressed to your hair, and his gaze met yours for a second too long.

“…Thanks, Sanji,” you said again, a little more sincerely this time.

His hand hovered like he wanted to reach for you again, but then his eyes flicked back to your shirt. The grimace returned instantly.

“He doesnt deserve that,” he muttered, standing up straight.

You laughed as he turned away. “HEY! hes so babygirl I cant help it” you called after him.

“he is absolutely not” he shouted back. “You want breakfast tomorrow? Say goodbye to that shirt!” You grinned to yourself, towel wrapped around your shoulders, and turned back toward the waves, a little warmer than you’d been before.

Sanji had only made it a few steps before turning on his heel with a fresh spark of dramatics and indignation blazing in his eyes. “Actually,” he said, pointing directly at your chest well, your shirt, but it didn’t help his case “take that off.”

You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“That shirt!” he sputtered, already flailing slightly. “That insult to fashion and common decency take it off!”

Your grin curled like a mischievous wave. “Oh? So you do want me to take my clothes off.”

He froze Eyes wide. Face immediately red. “No I mean yes wait, NO!”

You burst into laughter, doubling over slightly with the towel still wrapped around your shoulders. “Wow, Sanji. I didn’t think you’d be so bold! Here? Out in the open?”

“That’s not ! That’s not what I meant, don’t twist my words like that!” he wailed, fanning himself with one hand, his other flailing like he was fighting off a swarm of bees. “I just I meant the shirt! Not ! Not you being ! Naked ! I mean, not that I’d mind NO, WAIT !”

You were fully wheezing now, nearly stumbling over the dock as you clutched the towel and your ribs.

“I can’t believe this is the hill you chose to die on,” you giggled.

He groaned into his hands. “This is not what I meant! Mosshead doesn’t deserve to be worshipped like that, not even ironically! What does he have that I don’t, huh?!”

You tilted your head with an evil sparkle in your eye. “You mean besides incredible muscle mass, a mysterious bad boy attitude, and oh my god hes just so handsome”

Sanji looked like you’d kicked him in the soul.

“I I have !” He pointed to himself, eyes wide, desperate. “I can cook! I’m chivalrous! I’d rather die than let you even get a scratch, i bet he wouldn’t even–”

You raised a brow, still smirking. “So… you’re saying you want me to wear your name on my shirt?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Blushed so hard he practically glowed.

Then muttered, “if it’s written in chocolate on you everything would change.”

You blinked. You weren’t sure if he meant on a shirt or on your skin, but judging by how red his ears were now, he wasn’t sure either.

“…You’re unbelievable,” you snorted, shaking your head and heading toward the ramp.

“You started it!” he called after you, still flustered and pointing. “I’m redeeming fashion! I’m doing the Lord’s work!”

You turned just slightly, giving him a wink.

“Sure, loverboy. Let me know when your merch line drops.” You disappeared up the ship, leaving a very red, very confused Sanji behind with his towel and shattered pride.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡Everyone had long since gone to bed, their laughter fading into soft snores behind closed doors.

Except you.

Sleep just… wasn’t happening. No matter how many times you rolled over or how tightly you hugged your pillow, your mind wouldn’t stop spinning. So you gave up, slipped into a loose sweater and shorts, and padded softly down the hall barefoot toward the kitchen. you padded softly into the kitchen, hoping some warm tea or leftover fruit might help settle your restless thoughts.

What you didn’t expect was the dim glow of the kitchen lamp already on… or the disheveled blond figure hunched over on the bench beneath the window.

“Sanji?”

His head lifted slowly. His tie was loose and crooked, shirt half buttoned, and his hair messier than usual like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. His cheeks were flushed a faint rose, and his eyes were just the wrong kind of glossy.

He blinked, then smiled like he was watching the sun rise for the first time.

“Angel,” he breathed. “You really do walk on clouds, don’t you?”

You blinked, caught a little off guard by how fast he perked up.

“Hey, hey easy there, loverboy,” you said with a chuckle, walking over and gently placing your hands on his shoulders to ease him back down. “Calm down, big boy.” You couldn’t help a snort. “Okay, Casanova, how many glasses in are you?”

He held up two fingers… then thought about it and added a third. “10.”

“Right.”

You walked past him to the counter and grabbed a clean cup, filling it with water. “You’re lucky it’s me and not Zoro. He’d have tied you to the mast for being this loud.”

“He’s just jealous of me,” Sanji mumbled dramatically, gaze following you the entire way.

You walked back to him, holding out the glass. “Drink this. You’re gonna regret whatever this is in the morning.”

He stared at the water. “But you’re the only thing I’m thirsty for ”

“Sanji,” you warned with a half laugh, plopping into the chair beside him and crossing your arms.

“Right. Water.” He took the glass and chugged it like it might turn into wine. “That was for you.”

“Thanks,” you snorted. “I feel incredibly hydrated by proxy.”

He swayed slightly and rested his cheek against his fist, still looking at you like you held the moon in your palms. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “You tell every girl that.”

“But I mean it more when it’s you,” he slurred softly.

Your lips parted, but the words didn’t come. There was something raw about how he said it. Like he wasn’t trying to charm you. Just… saying what he felt.

You swallowed and looked away for a second, staring at the quiet kitchen. “Why’re you drinking alone?”

He shrugged, shoulders loose and hazy. “Just thinking. About stupid things. About smart things that feel stupid. About shirts and swords and ” he hiccuped, “ how I’ll never be cool like Zoro.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Zoro wouldn’t even know how to turn on a stove.”

“I know!” Sanji whined. “I know. But he doesn’t need to. People just like him anyway. And you ” he paused, his voice dropping a little “you wore his name.”

That made you blink. You looked at him fully now. “Sanji…”

He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, burying his face in his arms against the table.

“I’m being dumb again, huh?” he mumbled. “I always get like this when you’re near. It’s like my brain turns into scrambled eggs.”

You watched him for a moment, your chest tight with something unspoken.

“…You’re not dumb,” you said finally, your voice quiet. “You’re just bad at pretending you don’t feel things.”

He peeked up at you, eyes soft.

You smiled gently. “It’s kinda… what I like about you.”

You sat down next to him on the bench, a comfortable space between you until Sanji, with absolutely zero hesitation, leaned into you and snuggled his head against your shoulder.

“Mmm.” His voice was muffled in your sweater. “You’re so warm. You smell like the sea and something sweet… like honey. Or cake. Or maybe youre just as sweet.”

You blinked, looking down at the mess of blond hair now nestled into you. You let him rest there, too tired to push him off and maybe not really wanting to. The kitchen was quiet aside from the ticking of the wall clock and the hum of the ship gently rocking with the waves. His body was warm against yours, heavy and content.

After a moment, you murmured, “You okay, Sanji?”

He let out a sigh, his breath hitting your collarbone. “Nope.”

You smiled faintly, resting your head lightly against his. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“…Want more water?”

“Only if you hold it for me like a baby bird.”

You snorted. “Yeah, you’re done.”

Sanji shifted slightly against you, cheek still pressed to your shoulder, but now his fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve tugging, releasing, tugging again. There was a quiet stillness in the kitchen, broken only by the ticking clock and the gentle sway of the ship. “…Hey,” he mumbled, voice thick and unsteady. “Can I ask you something?”

You glanced down at him, smile soft. “Sure.”

He hesitated, then pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. They were a little glassy from the wine, sure, but behind that, you saw something so cute and honest peeking through. He looked almost… scared.

“Do you…” He swallowed. “Do you actually like me? Like this?”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘like this’?”

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, face now red as a tomato. “I mean I know I’m kind of a disaster. I flirt too much, I say dumb stuff, I fall too fast, I… twirl around like an idiot half the time. But when I asked you for advice… I wasn’t ”

He cut himself off with a shaky breath, then turned back to you, expression completely open now, like he was laying his heart on the table next to the crumbs and the empty wine bottle.

“…I was trying to ask how to get you to like me.”

Time stopped. Literally, it felt like the kitchen froze. The air thickened, your heart skipped so hard it hurt, and your brain went completely blank except for one long, internal scream.

“W What?” you breathed.

He winced slightly, clearly mistaking your shock for horror. “I know I’m an idiot. I thought maybe if I asked like it was about someone else, it wouldn’t be so embarrassing. You’re just so amazing. You laugh at my jokes, you call me out when I’m being over the top, and you look at me like I’m… a person. Not a character.”

Your mouth opened and closed uselessly. “Wait. Wait.”

He kept going, barely able to meet your eyes now, fingers nervously twisting the fabric of your sweater. “I thought if I could just be better, maybe you’d see me differently. Maybe you’d want to give me a shot. I didn’t want to mess it up by saying the wrong thing so I thought… maybe you could tell me how to win over a girl like you. B But that’s stupid, right?”

It hit you like a ton of bricks. A ton of bricks wrapped in love letters and wine stained confessions. The girl he’d been talking about… the one he wanted to be better for, the one he asked about so earnestly… it wasn’t some island stranger.

It had been you.

Your breath hitched as your brain scrambled for a coherent thought. Your face burned so hot it might’ve glowed in the dark.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, barely audible. “Sanji.”

He was still looking down, shoulders tense, voice quiet and fragile. “Yeah?”

You swallowed hard. “You… you’re in love with me?”

His face practically exploded in red as he jerked his head back up to look at you, horrified. “I Wh What?! I mean yes?! No I mean dammit oui?! I didn’t mean to say it like that! I meant like not like, love love but maybe like a crush or oh god I’m drunk, ignore me ”

You pressed your hands to your cheeks, laughing way too high pitched, flustered beyond saving.

“Sanji,” you squeaked.

“I was so smooth in my head,” he groaned, burying his face into your shoulder again. “I had speeches and everything. Why did I drink five glasses?!”

You laughed again, covering your face. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Is that a yes idiot or a no idiot?”

You bit your lip, cheeks hot, heart racing as you looked down at the ridiculous, flustered man holding onto your arm like he might float away otherwise.

“…Maybe it’s a yes idiot,” you whispered.

His head whipped up. “What?!”

You smiled shyly. “Maybe I like you too. Just the way you are.”

He blinked. Then blinked again. And then

He passed out in your lap.

“…Unbelievable,” you muttered, flustered and smiling helplessly as you smoothed back his hair. “You really are the dumbest romantic I’ve ever met.”

Sanji: I just wanna eat you up… starting with a little nibble here and maybe a lick there

[sirxaibs]

These are my tropes that i follow with each character so far~

Hizashi Yamada- Younger pro reader with Present Mic, hes as dorky and weird as always and I try to talk about music as much as I can with his character

Touya Todoroki- The reader is a pro and often finds themselves talking after fights together. Eventually falling in love. Very teasing esque stuff

Mirio Togata- My bro is a munch. Im picturing him falling in love with an older woman who is very adept and is a pro. Im picturing Lihaku from apothecary diaries in the way he wants to work hard for his woman.

[sirxaibs]

Happy Fish Him Out Friday everyone

[sirxaibs]

Nathan Prescott X Reader

✰ ✰ ✰ One More Shot

masterlist

uhhhh this is very similar to my other nathan story but more shorter and a lot fluffier (even if it starts a lil crazy)

You: Beach. Now. Don’t make me ask twice.

Nathan: Wow. Try “please,” bitch. You begging would actually make my night.

You: You’d like that too much.

You: Get over here, Prescott.

Nathan: shut the fuck up.

You: That’s the spirit.

Blackwell Beach is almost empty, save for a few scattered students clinging to the last light of day. The wind bites through your jacket, kicking sand around your boots as you stare out at the ocean, arms crossed. You’re tapping your foot before he even shows up, already regretting this. A familiar voice behind you cuts through the crashing waves. “Seriously? The beach? You called me out here for what?”

You turn, and there he is Nathan Prescott, scowling like the very act of existing in the same space as you is a personal inconvenience. His red sweater is hidden under a black jacket. designer sneakers already collecting sand he’ll definitely bitch about later.

“Took you long enough,” you say, not moving.

He scoffs. “Don’t act like you’re worth being on time for.”

You roll your eyes. “Can you cool it with the edge for five seconds?”

Nathan steps closer, face carved with irritation. “No. I can’t. Because I’m freezing my balls off, you sound like a hostage negotiator, and I skipped out on actual plans to listen to you yap. So unless you’re confessing to murder or selling meth, this better be good.”

You hesitate. He notices. “What,” he snaps, eyes narrowing. “You dragged me all the way out here to waste my time, didn’t you?”

“I want to take pictures of you.”

“You’re joking,” he says, head tilted. “You’re fucking joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nathan mutters, pacing a step away from you like just being near you is toxic. “So what, you thought I’d jump at the chance to be your muse or some shit? What kind of narc fantasy is this?”

“I thought you’d say no,” you admit, firm. “But I figured I’d ask. I’m working on a portfolio. I need shots of someone… well I thought of you.”

Nathan turns, eyes cold. “With me what?”

You hold his gaze. “I needed a pompous asshole that has shit for brains. No but I just thought youd be a good model.”

His jaw twitches. “Wow. Thanks. Really fucking flattering.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t eat this kind of shit up,” you shoot back.

“Yeah, but I’d rather eat glass than give you the satisfaction,” he growls, stepping closer. “You think you can just use me for your artsy bullshit? Like I’m your fucked up little character study?”

You grit your teeth. “It’s just a photo, Nathan. Not an autopsy.”

He gets in your space, voice dropping lower, venomous. “Fine. Snap your little pictures bitch.”

You stare him down, tension slicing the air between you. “If youre so mad about me calling you here then why come at all”

He laughs again, but this time it’s quieter. “Whatever it doesnt matter im here now. Take your damn pictures,” he says, backing up a few steps. You raise your camera. he stands there, backlit by the dying sun, arms loose at his sides, jaw tight, expression hollow. You click the shutter. Once. Twice. Three times.

✰ ✰ ✰Nathan’s room smelled faintly of paint and cologne, and the blinds were half drawn, letting in soft late afternoon light that turned everything gold. You sat cross legged on his bed, a makeup bag beside you, while Nathan sat in front of you on the floor, legs folded, looking more nervous than he probably wanted to admit. “You sure about this?” he asked, tilting his head up, eyes flitting between your face and the compact mirror in your hand. There was a hint of a smile playing on his lips, it came out when he was trying not to look too happy.

You dipped a brush into a soft eyeshadow color. “Positive. You said you wanted to do something artsy with me, so this counts. Your face is my canvas now, Prescott.”

“I’m the only canvas you’ve ever had,” he muttered, trying to sound dry, but the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him.

You giggled and leaned forward, gently applying the white face paint across his cheekbones with the soft sponge. He stayed unnaturally still, clearly hyper aware of the closeness but trying hard to be supportive. It was adorable. “You can relax, you know,” you murmured.

His breath hitched for a moment, but he nodded, letting his eyes flutter closed. “I know.” You worked in quiet concentration, occasionally stealing glances at him when you thought he wouldn’t notice. Nathan looked so calm like this. You snorted, brushing a streak of white across the bridge of his nose. “You are so weird.”

“Look who’s talking, Picasso.”

The process took time layering white until it was even, letting it dry, then painting delicate patterns in dark grays and soft golds across his face. You went abstract, like something out of a dream. Gentle swirling lines near his eyes, a subtle tear shaped mark under one, faint gilded freckles like stars across the bridge of his nose. Nathan didn’t talk much while you worked, but he didn’t fidget either. He kept still, watched you. When you finally leaned back, putting down the brush, you sighed. “Okay. All done.”

He blinked up at you, hesitant. “Uh. Is it… bad?”

You handed him the small mirror and watched nervously as he examined himself. “…Shit.”

“What?” You sat up. “You don’t like it ?”

“No. I mean shit, it’s good. I look like…” He tilted his head, his expression softening into something vulnerable. “it looks good.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond to the honesty in his voice. But then Nathan turned toward you, lowering the mirror and offering a crooked little smile. “what are you going to do now”

Your heart swelled, eyes misting just a bit. “Capture it duh. You are beautiful, Nate.”

He blushed immediately, turning his face away. “Jesus. Don’t say it like that.”

✰ ✰ ✰The silence stretches between each snap of the shutter. The waves crash against the shore in rhythmic violence, but neither of you speak. Nathan doesn’t pose; he just exists in the frame. Tension rolls off him in waves, but he doesn’t leave. He never does, not really. You lower the camera slowly, eyes still on him. “You haven’t been talking to me.”

Nathan shrugs one shoulder. “Didn’t realize we were married.”

“I mean it.”

His eyes flick toward you. “I don’t owe you anything.”

You scoff. “Seriously?”

Nathan finally looks at you, and there’s that familiar bite in his stare. “What do you want me to say? That I’m jealous? That I give a shit? like I said I don’t owe you anything.”

You blink, once. “Right. You never do.”

“I didn’t used to watch you fawn over whatever new puppy’s sniffing around your ankles either.” He exhales harshly. “I saw you with him.”

“You saw someone being nice to me.” You take a step forward, bitterness creeping into your tone. “God forbid someone treats me like I matter.”

He doesn’t respond. His silence says enough.

“You act like I did something wrong,” you continue. “Like I betrayed you. But you never even tried. Never said a thing.”

“I didn’t think I had to spell it out,” he snaps.

“You didn’t say anything, Nathan!” The words hit harder than you mean them to, but you don’t take them back. “You just stood there, acting like I was yours, but never being anything for me to hold onto. What was I supposed to do keep orbiting around you, hoping you’d give me scraps?”

“That’s not fair ”

“No, you’re not fair.” You grip the camera like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “You push me away, then get pissed when I stop waiting. I’m done with the guessing game. If you cared, even a little, you would’ve shown it.”

His jaw tightens. “You don’t get it.”

“No, Nathan. You don’t get it. You can’t treat people like shit just because you’re scared of feeling something.”

There’s a pause. The wind picks up, stealing some of the heat from your face. You look at him really look and for a second, he seems less like a storm and more like a boy who never learned how to weather one.

“I’m not your enemy,” you say softly. “But I’m not your placeholder either.”

“I don’t know what this is,” he mutters, “but I’m not gonna be your backup plan when you get bored.”

“I didn’t come here with a plan,” you say, lifting the camera again. “I came here because I missed the way you looked at me before you decided you hated me.”

Nathan stares at you for a long, long time. The wind tugs at his hair. Finally, he turns, meeting your eyes. Something cracks through his expression.

“…One more shot,” he murmurs. “Then we’re done for tonight.”

You lift the camera.

✰ ✰ ✰ The sky above Blackwell Academy was dipped in golden amber, the sun casting long shadows over the cracked pavement of the mostly empty student parking lot. The autumn breeze rustled through the tall trees, leaves scattering around the boots of your truck. You were sitting on the tailgate, a soda in hand, laughing at something Warren had just said. Warren sat beside you. His knee occasionally bumped yours, and he didn’t move it. His soft smile curled at the edges like an old movie poster, one you’d both likely geek out over. The two of you had spent the last twenty minutes swapping critiques about cult classics Donnie Darko, Eraserhead, The Thing and now he was on a tangent about the criminal underappreciation of practical effects in modern sci fi.

“…and I’m just saying, if they remade The Fly today, it’d all be CGI garbage.” Warren said, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment.

You chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a thing for gooey body horror. I get it.”

“That’s not okay, yes, but it’s also about integrity, you know?” he insisted, playful.

The sun hit your face just right, catching on your hair, and you reached up to push it away only for Warren to beat you to it. His fingers brushed gently against your temple as he tucked the loose strand behind your ear, eyes lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You didn’t say anything, and he didn’t either.

Across the lot, leaning against his expensive car with arms crossed and jaw clenched, Nathan Prescott was a picture of stillness except for the flick of his thumb over his lighter, open but unlit. He was watching. He had been waiting there, rehearsing some careless sounding line in his head to ask if you wanted to hang out. Maybe crash in his dorm. Do whatever. His version of pretending he wasn’t desperate to be around you, even when he absolutely was. But now, watching Warren sit close to you too close laugh with you, touch your hair like it was the most natural goddamn thing in the world… it burned. Not like jealousy. Not entirely. It was more like self loathing and fury on a low simmer. Nathan looked away, then looked back. He knew he wasn’t nice. He’d spent too long being angry at the world, being reckless and cruel, thinking it would make the ache go away. But seeing you like this easy, happy, touched by someone who didn’t come with bruises or baggage it twisted something sharp in his chest.

He hated that Warren made it look easy. He hated that he couldn’t. The sound of your laugh drifted across the parking lot again, light and unguarded. Warren smiled at it, like it was a reward. Nathan’s grip tightened on the lighter. He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.He just watched, his eyes dark with something he’d never admit out loud. Something like wanting to be better, but not knowing how.

•

The room was quiet, save for the soft whirr of Nathan’s laptop fan and the occasional muffled sound of voices from outside. You were sitting on the edge of his bed, legs swinging slightly, fingers fidgeting with a thread on your sleeve. You’d been here for nearly an hour, and Nathan had barely said a full sentence. He sat at his desk, back to you, glued to whatever was on his screen.

“Nate,” you said finally, voice soft but cutting through the stillness.

He didn’t respond, but you knew he heard. You looked down at your hands, then back at him. “Warren asked me out today.” Nathan’s hand stilled on the mouse. You couldn’t see his face, but you saw the shift in his posture shoulders tightening, jaw likely clenched the way it always did when something rubbed him the wrong way. So you went on, eyes fixed on the back of his head. “He said we should catch a movie. Something ‘about a hotel in europe or something,’ in his words.”

Still nothing. The only sound in the room was the soft hum of the laptop and the distant noise of students outside, laughing in the sun.

You waited for another beat, then added, “I didn’t say no.”

Nathan shut his laptop slowly, the click loud in the room. He didn’t turn to face you.

“You can do whatever you want,” he said, his voice low and flat, like it had been dragged out of him.

You blinked. “That’s it?”

He finally turned his head halfway toward you, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. “Yeah.”

A hollow pause. You stood, folding your arms not out of anger, just trying to keep steady. “I wasn’t trying to piss you off.”

“I’m not pissed,” Nathan muttered, too fast, too tight. You could tell he was lying.

You took a slow breath and looked at him really looked at him. His expression was unreadable, You stepped toward the door. “I just wanted to see if you’d care.”

Nathan stayed seated, unmoving. His eyes dropped to the floor. “You can do whatever you want,” he said again, quieter this time, like he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

You didn’t respond. Didn’t push. The door clicked shut behind you.

✰ ✰ ✰You lower the camera after the shot, hands slack at your sides. The moment stretches. Nathan doesn’t move. He just stares at you like he’s still caught in the aftershock of everything you said like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. Then, without a word, he steps forward and yanks the camera from your hands.

“Hey !” you start, bristling.

But he doesn’t answer. Just raises it like he’s done it a hundred times before, clumsily adjusting the angle, your camera unfamiliar in his grip. It’s almost insulting, the way he does it without asking. Without checking if you’re okay with it.

“You don’t even know how to ”

Click.

The shutter snaps. You freeze. Nathan lowers the camera slowly, his expression unreadable, but something tight sits behind his eyes. “Now we’re even.”

You open your mouth ready to fire back, because how dare he but the words catch on your tongue. Because calling him over when he was mad? That was exactly what you did.

You breathe in sharply through your nose, crossing your arms. “You could’ve at least warned me.”

“I didn’t think you liked when people made things easy,” he mutters.

You narrow your eyes. “And I didn’t think you were the type to steal cameras.”

“I didn’t steal it,” he says, stepping closer and holding it out. “I borrowed it. Chill.”

You hesitate before taking it back, fingers brushing his. You can’t tell if the contact makes things better or worse.

He nods toward the lens. “You looked… beautiful. In that second. Thought you should know what that’s like.”

You glance down at the screen, at the photo. “…You got lucky,” you murmur, trying to sound unimpressed even as something inside you twists.

Nathan shrugs. “Im sorry”

You meet his eyes, and there’s no smirk, no edge just that brutal honesty he hides behind cynicism.

You hold the camera tight to your chest, voice quieter now. “you need to stop being an ass”

“And you always pull when you shouldn’t.”

That one stings, but he’s not wrong. Neither of you says anything for a while. The waves are still crashing. The sky’s gone darker. You should leave, but neither of you moves.

Finally, you exhale. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

He doesn’t argue. Just falls into step beside you, The two of you walk in silence, side by side, the sound of your footsteps mixing with the hush of the waves. The tension has ebbed just a little, leaving behind something quieter, heavier. You don’t talk, and for once, it doesn’t feel like a threat just a truce neither of you knows how to hold properly.

You’re a few steps ahead when you realize Nathan’s no longer walking. You slow. Turn around. He’s standing in the middle of the path, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets again, the same guarded posture but his eyes are locked on you.

“What?” you ask, cautious.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilts his head, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek before a grin curls at the corner of his mouth. Not a real one. The Nathan kind. The asshole kind. “You’re such a dick rider,” he says, voice mockingly sweet.

You blink. “What the hell?”

He takes a step closer, all false innocence. “Oh, c’mon. Letting me talk to you like shit, calling me over like some wounded puppy, and now walking me home like we’re good? That’s some Olympic level dick riding. Gold medal performance.”

You stare, part of you wanting to punch him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” he says, smirking, “whos the one doing all the work.”

You roll your eyes. “you came”

“No, really.” He cuts you off, the grin softening just slightly. “You’re beautiful.”

Your breath catches.

“But also annoying,” he adds quickly, as if that’ll somehow lessen what he just said. “And stubborn. And the only person I’ve ever met who somehow makes me want to… I don’t know. Be less of a miserable bastard.”

He shrugs, gaze flicking away like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just say something close to a confession. You’re quiet, stunned.

“I can’t stand it,” he mutters, scuffing his shoe against the gravel. “The idea of some other guy being the reason you laugh. Or smile. Or look the way you did earlier when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

Your heart thuds.

“I want that to be me,” he continues. “Even if I suck at it. Even if I’m never gonna be good at… whatever this is.”

He doesn’t say “love.” He wouldn’t. It’d burn his tongue. You stare at him, not sure what to say. Not sure what he expects. Nathan sighs like he’s pissed at himself. “You can still walk away, you know. Probably smarter if you do.”

You take a step closer.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say. “Not unless you tell me to.”

He looks at you for a long time, jaw working. Then he shrugs again, softer this time.

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me, dick rider.”

You smack his arm, and he lets out a surprised laugh.

[sirxaibs]

GUYS GUYS LOOK AT MY CAT

[sirxaibs]

Hizashi Yamada / Present Mic X Reader

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ Fan Behaviour

masterlist

Continuing my young TA trope. Have a small little one shot that I thought of while at work because I was so fricken exhausted.

call the reader Ace from one piece bc bro is narcoleptic this episode

She blinked as the fluorescent lights flared against her sleep deprived corneas.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. I’m here,” she mumbled under her breath like a war chant, trudging toward the staff room with the dead stare of someone who had battled their alarm clock four times and lost.

She didn’t even register the students she passed in the hallway. Today, she had hit snooze one too many times, barely wrangled her hair into a messy bun, shoved her glasses on, and grabbed the first thing from her drawer. shuffled her way through the corridor, and yawned so hard her jaw popped.

“Wait… is that Y/n?”

“She’s wearing a fan shirt?”

“Like… I guess pros can be fans too?”

“She must be a fan.”

“A big fan.”

“She is new, do you think she knows she’s wearing that at his workplace?”

“Oh my god, what if it’s on purpose?”

“No way, she doesn’t even look like she realizes she’s breathing right now.”

She didn’t catch a single word. Didn’t see the curious glances or the sudden hushes when she walked by. She didn’t even register the small group of students in Class 1 B whispering excitedly behind their textbooks, one of them secretly snapping a blurry photo as she walked past. She passed by the classroom doors without hesitation, her boots making a soft thunk thunk against the tile. When someone called out, “Good morning, Y/n!” she waved lazily without turning.

The door slid open with a soft shhht, and Y/n stepped into the classroom, the overhead lights still flickering to full brightness. Her entrance was a slow shuffle in sneakers and exhaustion, holding her half empty can of coffee.

Inside, only one person sat at the teacher’s desk: Shota Aizawa, already present and grading papers with that permanent look of dry irritation carved into his face. His hair was down, his capture weapon coiled loosely around his shoulders like a lazy scarf, and his red eyes lifted the second she walked in. His gaze dragged from her sleep deprived face… to the crooked glasses… to the jeans… to the oversized Present Mic Live Tour shirt.

A long pause. One eyebrow arched. Very slowly. He didn’t say a word at first. Just looked at her like she had walked in wearing a tutu and clown shoes. Y/n yawned into her sleeve and plopped into the desk closest to the board, tossing her bag down with a soft thud.

Aizawa finally spoke, his tone flat but clearly unimpressed.

���You do realize you’re in a school full of teenagers… and this is a professional environment.”

She blinked at him behind her glasses, expression blank. Then took a sip of coffee. “I’m a TA, I dont think it matters that much” she replied simply. “Here I was going to say you look as hot as you always do aizawa”

Silence. Aizawa stared. The shirt screamed YEAHHHH! PRESENT MIC LIVE TOUR in bright, cracked yellow letters across the front. His best friend’s animated face grinned wildly beneath a pair of lightning bolts. He exhaled slowly through his nose, clearly biting back every possible sarcastic remark. “…Right,” he muttered, going back to his papers. “TA.” Y/n didn’t notice the side glance he gave her shirt one last time.

The teacher’s lounge wasnt any better for Y/n. She was slumped over one of the side desks, completely passed out. Head resting on her arms. Glasses askew. A pencil still in one hand. Her shirt bunched slightly around her shoulder from where she’d dozed off mid note. She hadn’t made it through her morning prep. The moment she sat down to review some attendance sheets, her body betrayed her, dragging her straight into unconsciousness. She looked peaceful, though mildly drooly, sure, but peaceful.

That’s how Nemuri Kayama found her. She entered the lounge with a coffee in one hand and she definitely was having a way more energized morning. Behind her was All Might, tall as ever even in his deflated state, holding a folder and glancing around the room as he was looking for a free table.

Nemuri spotted the passed out TA instantly. She leaned sideways into All Might’s arm, whispering in a voice just above scandalous, “Ohhh, look at her. Poor thing crashed right on the desk. Isn’t she adorable?”

All Might blinked, adjusting his glasses. “Ah… that’s the new assistant for Aizawa’s class, yes?”

Nemuri smirked, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Mmhm. She’s one of the youngest pros on record just beside Hawks, and still acts like a college student during midterms. It’s endearing. Look at her!” She giggled. “And look at that. I didn’t even know Mic still had those printed.”

All Might chuckled softly, though he quickly cleared his throat when Nemuri shot him a teasing look. “She has potential,” he said with a warm smile. “Even if her sense of… fashion is unconventional today.”

Nemuri grinned. “Hush now, you're just jealous, you have like a trillion people that has your merch, let another pro have a cute little fan”

All Might’s eyes widened slightly. “I… am not.”

They both shared a knowing glance. Back at the desk, Y/n let out a quiet snore, still deep in dreams, utterly unaware that she had become the subject of hushed faculty gossip and affection. All Might chuckled again. “At least we know she's wanting to work hard.” Neither of them had the heart to wake her.

The door slid open with a soft shhhk, and in walked Hizashi Yamada, “ I’m just sayin’, if I have to listen to one more first year scream in my face about lunch menus, I might actually lose it ”

Behind him, Aizawa entered like a stormcloud, slouching deeper into his capture scarf with a dead eyed look. “Then stop instigating them.”

“Hey, I’m all about school spirit, Eraser!” Hizashi laughed, throwing his hands up as they stepped into the teachers’ lounge. “Can’t blame me for bringing the energy ”

But he stopped short. Because across the room, at one of the side desks, she was asleep. The one he’d been trying very hard to keep things professional around. Not because she wasn’t charming quite the opposite. She was bright, sharp, quietly funny when she let her guard down, and despite being one of the newest in the building, already had the instincts of a seasoned pro.

And now, she was curled over a desk, fast asleep. her face was relaxed in the kind of peaceful way people never get unless they’re truly exhausted. There was a can of coffee beside her, a pencil barely hanging on the desk’s edge. Hizashi swallowed. She looked adorable. He blinked, caught off guard by just how soft she looked when she wasn’t standing tall in hero gear. There was something unfair about it how casual and undone she was tucked into the early morning haze of staff life.

He elbowed Aizawa lightly. “She’s out cold.”

Aizawa grunted. “She passed out within the first few minutes of class standing up. Didn’t even get through her prep.”

Hizashi chuckled quietly. “Man… she’s cute.”

Nemuri, sitting at the counter with a fresh cup of coffee, raised her brows with a smirk. “I knew it.”

“Shh!” Hizashi whispered, waving her off. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You just did,” Aizawa muttered.

But Hizashi wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes had wandered to the T shirt she was wearing faded from wash and wear, the fabric soft and comfortably oversized on her. His gaze traced the bold yellow lightning bolts, the stylized letters, His face.His name. His entire merch shirt.

“Wait ” he whispered sharply. “Is that ?”

He squinted. It was the Present Mic tour shirt. He blinked again. Once. Twice. That was definitely his shirt. His old shirt. From that weirdly successful tour year when a few companies cashed in on his popularity with over the top designs. It had been borderline embarrassing then and now, here it was. Worn by the staff’s newest member. Draped casually across her shoulders like a pajama top.

His face was literally right there. Grinning. Screaming into a cartoon mic.

“…No way,” Hizashi muttered under his breath, ears going a little warm.

His cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. Not full blown tomato, but definitely rosy. Nemuri, eagle eyed and far too entertained, leaned back in her seat and sipped her coffee. “Shes so adorable ahhhh”

“I didn’t know she owned one,” he whispered, suddenly clutching his folder like it might shield him from reality. “I didn’t even think those still existed.”

“You flustered?” she teased.

“I’m not ! I’m fine.”

Aizawa sighed, already regretting walking into the room. “Please don’t make this weird.”

“I’m trying not to!” Hizashi whispered, eyes still glued to the sleeping girl. “But I’m sorry, this is like this is next level cute.” Meanwhile, Y/n stirred slightly in her sleep, shifting her arm under her head, completely unaware that she was unknowingly giving Present Mic himself a minor crisis.

~~~~The hum of conversation faded as All Might, Nemuri, and Aizawa filed out, one by one. Papers in hand, coffee cups drained. The early morning rush was giving way to the school day, and the room had settled into a rare moment of calm.

Y/n still hadn’t moved. Her breathing was slow, steady. She’d shifted just slightly, curled now against her folded arms like she might sleep there forever if left undisturbed. Her glasses had slipped further down her nose. Her soft snores blended with the ambient hum of the room. Hizashi lingered by the counter, watching her for a beat longer than he probably should’ve. The sight tugged at something warm in his chest. He’d never seen her look this unguarded. No quick wit. No quiet strength. Just… tired and real.

With a quiet sigh, he poured a fresh cup of coffee and carefully walked it over, setting it down beside her without a sound. Then, gently “Hey… sunshine.”

She stirred. Groaned.

“Rise and shine,” he said in a voice far softer than the one he used with students or mics or stages. “Thought you might need this.”

Y/n blinked slowly, eyelashes fluttering as she pushed herself up just a little. She squinted at the cup, then at him still only half conscious.

“…Mmh,” she mumbled. “Is this… heaven?”

Hizashi chuckled. “Not quite. Though I am flattered.”

She rubbed her eyes, still only halfway there. Then quietly, dreamily, with absolutely no filter:

“…Wow. pretty guy bringing me coffee. I love my dreams…”

Hizashi froze. Y/n blinked. The words echoed in her own head. Her eyes widened slowly, like the truth was trickling in word by mortifying word.

“I ” she sat up straighter, mortified and very, very awake now. “Oh my god. I didn’t I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

The color rushed to her face so fast it could’ve powered a city. Bright, blooming red from ear to ear. Hizashi raised an eyebrow, but he smiled warm, a little surprised, but not teasing. “Hey,” he said calmly, nudging the coffee closer to her hand, “you’re running on fumes. Sleepy brains say silly things.”

She buried her face in her hands. “I’m gonna dissolve into the floor. I’m gonna evaporate. You didn’t hear that.”

“Oh, I definitely did,” he said with a small laugh, standing upright again. “But don’t worry I dont mind you calling me a pretty guy.”

She peeked between her fingers. “uhhhhhhh.”

He shrugged playfully. “You look like you need mercy more than jokes right now, cmon get up.” Then, soft again, with just a touch of sincerity behind his glasses “You should probably head home after this. No point pushing yourself if you’re already running on empty.”

Y/n, still recovering from her own betrayal of words, nodded slowly. “…Yeah. That’s… fair.”

He waited a beat, then tilted his head just slightly, voice gentle teasing, but only just. “…Nice shirt, by the way.”

“…What?” she mumbled into her hands.

“Your shirt,” Hizashi said, amusement laced through every syllable. “Real familiar design.”

She peeled one hand away to glance down And there it was. The bold yellow letters. The lightning bolts. The cartoonish drawing of Present Mic mid scream. Her breath caught. Her entire face turned scarlet.

She yanked her hoodie closed in a useless effort to hide it, eyes wide with panic. “I I forgot I even owned this! It was laundry day, I swear I wasn’t thinking I just threw something on !”

“I can tell,” he said, still smiling. “Didn’t peg you for a fan.”

“I’m not I mean I am, but not ” she groaned again and flopped forward onto the desk.

~~~~The air outside was brisk, the kind that still nipped at your cheeks despite the hint of sunlight breaking through the clouds. It wasn’t cold enough to be miserable but just enough to keep Y/n wide awake as she stepped out of the main building, travel mug clutched in her hands.

She glanced to her side. Hizashi Yamada walked beside her, all long strides and easy swagger, his signature leather jacket creaking subtly with each step. The collar was popped against the breeze, and a pair of black shades sat pushed up on his head, tangled in his unruly blond hair. He had a hand in his pocket, and the other occasionally gestured as he talked just casually, like walking a sleep deprived TA to the front of the school was a daily occurrence for him. Y/n tried to play it cool. Tried. On the outside, she was sipping coffee and nodding, lips forming the occasional neutral smile. But on the inside?

Screaming. On the inside her mind is going crazy.

‘He’s walking next to me. Why is he walking next to me. I can feel the heat from his jacket. Is that leather? Is that real leather? Of course it’s real. Why wouldn’t it be real? Look at him. Look at his jawline. Look at that scruff. God, why is scruff suddenly attractive ‘

“…You sure you’ll be okay to get home?” Hizashi’s voice broke into her thoughts, soft but still laced with that telltale energy. “I could call a car if you need.”

She blinked up at him, realizing she’d been staring a second too long at the way his hair curled just under the collar. “Oh! No, I’m good. Totally fine. Coffee’s hitting now,” she lied, way too quickly.

Hizashi grinned. “I respect that. I’ve got a permanent subscription to espresso shots at this point.”

She laughed nervously, sipping again to avoid speaking and maybe to distract from how badly her hands were trembling. Internally, her brain was spiraling.

‘He smells good. Why does he smell so good. Why is leather and cologne doing things to me. Stop it. Stop being hot.’

“So…” he said casually, “I didn’t know you were into music.”

Her brain skidded. “Huh?”

“The shirt,” he said, flashing a cheeky grin. “I’m assuming it wasn’t just about the hair.”

She nearly choked on her coffee.

He chuckled at her embarrassment but didn’t press. Instead, he looked ahead, hands back in his pockets. “I used to do more gigs on the side,” he continued, as if this was just normal small talk and not completely destroying her composure. “Before teaching ramped up. Played with a few hero themed indie groups, did some solo stuff too. Got picked up for a bit when the agency leaned into the ‘rockstar pro’ thing. a little lame, but fun.”

Y/n’s brows lifted, actual excitement pushing through the cloud of her mortification.

“I remember seeing that! I mean not in person,” she said quickly. “But I found some of your old recordings. That one with the crimson stage lights and the um. Anyway. You’re actually the reason I picked up side music stuff.”

Hizashi blinked. “Wait, really?”

She nodded, cheeks pink but steadier now. “Yeah. Nothing professional, just… little open mics. Some small cafe stuff. Did vocals and a bit of rhythm guitar. I liked the way you performed. It felt like… I don’t know. You weren’t afraid to be loud, to take up space.”

Hizashi was quiet for a moment. Then genuinely, softly: “That’s really cool.”

She smiled. Just a little. “Yeah… I guess it kind of gave me permission. Like, if Present Mic can scream his heart out onstage and still be respected, I figured… maybe I could, too.”

He looked at her then, not the same playful look from earlier but one with something quieter behind it. “You’ve got a better head on your shoulders than I did when I was younger,” he said, nudging her lightly with his elbow. “Trust me, it took a lot but youre doing good already so far.”

“Oh, I believe it,” she said, laughing. “You still kind of are.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing down the quiet front. They reached the gates, where a few staff vehicles were parked nearby.

She stopped, tucking hair behind your ear “Well… thanks. For the walk. And the coffee.”

“Anytime,” he said, voice dipping into something smoother, gentle in a way that made her pulse stutter again. “Take it easy, alright?”

He tilted his head a little, then reached up and plucked his signature sunglasses from the crown of his head. They glinted in the morning light.

“Here,” he said, holding them out between two fingers with a lopsided grin. “For the road.”

She blinked. “…Your glasses?”

“Yeah,” he said casually, pushing them gently into her hands. “Now you’ve got some real Present Mic merch.”

Her fingers closed around them slowly, reverently.

‘Are these warm from his head? Oh my god, these are warm from his head. What do I do with these? Do I frame them? Wear them?

He must’ve seen the wide eyed look on her face because his grin widened just a bit, amused and maybe a touch smug.

“I’ve got, like, six pairs,” he added with a wink. “Don’t worry.”

“I uh. Thanks,” she stammered, clutching the glasses like they were priceless. “This is… this is cool. This is really cool.”

“You’re cool,” he replied easily, stepping back. “Get some rest.”

She nodded, taking a step back. He lingered a second longer.

“See you around, Rockstar.” just like that, he turned and started walking away, hands in his pockets, voice already humming something under his breath as he made his way back into the building Y/n stared after him. Then muttered under her breath.

“holy fuck”

The reader: I LIKE THAT BOY BECAUSE HE LOOKS LIKE A GIRL

[sirxaibs]

hi-i! it's that one mic's fan from your dm! can we have a slice of life or some domestic fluff headcanons/short? maybe just their (reader's and hizashi's) habits around chores and home at whole. hope you are feeling good, i love things you write!! take care!!

HEY MY LOVES!! I hate my big girl job and being busy. Here is a request that sorta was a silly idea that almost doesn’t follow the request but its still silly so here you go!! its very fluffy and short and I hope you enjoy

masterlist

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮“He has the cutest cheeks ever, you know that?” you announce suddenly, head lolling back against the passenger seat window. Your finger points to your own cheek in emphasis. “Right here. perfect ones. They’re like… mmmmmmm.”

Aizawa exhales through his nose, long and slow, eyes never leaving the road. “You’ve mentioned that. Three times now.”

You let out a dreamy sigh, kicking your legs up onto his dashboard like you own the damn thing. He doesn’t stop you, just glances at your boots and considers if it’s even worth the effort to say anything.

“And his laugh, Shouta. It’s like sunshine. Like, if sunshine was sound. When he laughs really hard, his voice cracks? I live for that.”

“You’ve had two drinks and a glass of something you called ‘Peach Apocalypse.’” Aizawa’s tone is flat. “I honestly think a 5 year old might have better tolerance than you”

You snort, clapping your hands once in amusement. “shhhh, but you know what? Zashi. my man. My sunshine. My loud, glorious, pitch perfect man God, I miss him.”

He glances over. You’re sprawled now, “He’s been gone for one day.”

“One very long day.” You groan, dragging your palms down your face. “I walked into the living room this morning and the house was so quiet. Just me and the silence and… and I think I hallucinated him saying ‘YEAHHH!’ from the kitchen.”

Aizawa’s mouth twitches. Just slightly. Almost a smile. He shakes his head, muttering, “You both are annoying.”

“I’m in love, Eraser. It’s a disease. A beautiful, blinding disease with fabulous hair and a voice that could rupture glass.”

Another breath. This one suspiciously close to a stifled laugh. “You sound like Mic wrote a fanfic about himself and possessed your body.”

You gasp, hand smacking your own knee. “That’s what I should do while he’s gone. Write him a fanfic. A kind of telenovela. With sword fights and forbidden kisses in the rain ”

“Please don’t.”

You squint at him suspiciously. “You’re not… jealous, are you?”

He glances at you with the flattest expression in all of Japan. “Of you? And him? sure. Absolutely. Ravaged by envy.”

You grin. “Awwww, Shoutaaa~ You do love me.”

He exhales again. It’s so exhausted it practically rattles the windows. “I’m dropping you off and never speaking to you again.”

“Liar. you like me and mic too much”

“Barely,” he says. He doesn’t turn the radio back on. Doesn’t ask you to shut up. He just keeps driving, letting you ramble on about the man you love.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

“You’re impossible.” You deepen your voice as you stumble through the hallway, mimicking Aizawa as your wine soaked brain will allow. ”‘Stop kicking the dashboard.’ ‘Don’t touch my cat.’ ‘Why are you screaming at the moon?’” You giggle as you twirl in place, socks slipping on the wooden floor. Hizashi’s oversized T shirt swishes around your thighs as you launch into a slow, wobbly spin, arms thrown out like you’re on stage. “Tolerate me my ass,” you declare to the empty hallway, pointing a finger at a framed photo of Hizashi grinning like a maniac. “He adores me. Deep down. Real deep. like deep deep deep”

You stumble again, catch yourself with a flourish that turns into a tumble onto the couch, then roll off it and land on the floor with a muffled “oomph!” You just lie there for a second, staring up at the ceiling like it’s giving you answers.

“Aizawa’s voice sounds like sandpaper. He probably came out of the womb sighing.” You gasp as if struck with a realization and flop onto your stomach. Dragging yourself up, you waltz toward the bedroom with all the grace of a dizzy ballerina, arms outstretched like you’re balancing on a tightrope. You crash into the doorway. “Oops heyyy baby, I’m hooome~!” you sing to no one in particular, throwing open your arms to greet the empty bedroom. You crawl onto the bed with the determination of someone crossing a desert, climbing over pillows like they’re mountains, then collapsing flat on your stomach. “You smell like hairspray and warm hugs,” you mumble into Hizashi’s pillow. “I love you. I really love you. You know that? You knew that, right? I tell you, like, all the time. But just in case you forgot…” You pull the pillow close, burying your face into it as your voice trails off into a contented sigh. “…love you so much I married your hoodie.” And just like that, your body goes still.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

The morning light creeps in slow and mean, prying your eyes open with the subtlety of a crowbar. Your brain feels like it’s been tenderized. The room smells faintly like his cologne and your shame. You squint at the ceiling, one eye crusted shut from sleeping like an animal, and then, with a Herculean effort, grope for your phone buried in the blankets.

6 New Messages.

You blink. No. You stare harder. No no no. With the grace of a newborn deer, you unlock your phone, heart already preparing for impact. The first thing you see is a selfie you sent Hizashi last night your cheeks red, a dumb grin on your face, eyes glazed with intoxicated love, captioned: “U are the SUNSHINE of my soul. If I was a flower I’d only bloom 4 U 🌻💛💥”

“WHY did I use emojis?? who am I a preteen??” you whisper to yourself in horror.

You scroll. More texts to Hizashi.

“I miss your STUPID PERFECT VOICE. I would fight GOD for you. But only if u were watching. thats a lie. but if you were watching id look hot as a knight right?” “U would look so hot in a medieval knight costume. I think about it. A lot.”

You want to die. You want to physically crawl into a crack in the earth and live there now. You then see the message in chain with Aizawa. No. No. No no no You open it. “HEY. SHOUTA. Just wanted to say ur a good bro.” “But also. Have you seen Hizashi?? He’s so hot it’s RUDE. Like actually criminal.” “Sorry for yelling in ur car. Ur cat has good judgment. I love Hizashi so much I could BECOME a bird. Idk what that means. But it feels true.”

Your face flushes a violent shade of crimson, full body embarrassment rising like a tsunami. You roll over and groan into your pillow.

“oh god.”

Your soul is trying to leave your body. You feel the hangover and the mortification doing a coordinated tap dance on your spine. You throw the phone across the bed like it’s cursed and bury your face again.

“I need coffee and a new identity,” you mumble into the sheets. “Preferably on a different continent.” From the across room, your phone buzzes. You don’t dare look. Not yet. Not until the shame stops boiling in your veins like a kettle about to scream.

You shuffle into the kitchen like a zombie freshly risen from the grave, The hardwood floor is cold beneath your socks, and your head pulses in time with your heartbeat. You reach the coffee machine like it’s a holy altar. Fumble. Press buttons. Miss the “start” button and swear quietly. Try again. Coffee begins to drip, a slow, glorious sound. You lean against the counter, eyes half closed, until

“Oh my god,” you mutter.

You finally look at the kitchen. There’s a tower of mugs stacked next to the sink like they were auditioning for a balancing act. A bag of chips half eaten on the counter, a single sock near the microwave for reasons unknown. The recycling bin is full, and you’re 80% sure someone (probably Hizashi) tried to make pancakes two days ago and left the pan sitting “to soak” with no follow up.

You blink at the mess The living room isn’t faring much better throw blankets bunched up in weird places, a pair of Hizashi’s sunglasses on the TV stand, one of your jackets draped over a kitchen chair, mail scattered like confetti. You sigh.

“We are not dirty,” you say out loud, trying to reassure yourself. “Just… disorganized.”

The coffee finishes brewing and you pour yourself a cup, immediately cradling it like it holds the meaning of life. You take one sip, eyes watering at the heat, but it jumpstarts your resolve.

You take a deep breath. “Alright, alright. I’ve got the day off. I embarrassed myself into another dimension last night… might as well detox my soul through cleaning.”

You turn on music low volume, just enough to fill the space and begin. You gather dishes, load the dishwasher. Fold the stray blankets. Stack mail in one spot. Toss the sock into the laundry hamper and don’t even ask questions. Half an hour in, your hangover is still alive and well, but there’s a rhythm to it now. A kind of comfort in putting things back where they belong, in reminding the house it is a home even if it’s shared by two people who treat “tidy” as an abstract suggestion.

You pause at one point, wiping down the coffee table, and glance at a picture frame sitting crooked on the shelf. You straighten it. It’s a photo of you and Hizashi in a full grin, you squished into his side. The corner of your mouth lifts, warmth blooming under your ribs. “You better appreciate this,” you murmur to the picture, pointing at it with your rag.

You’re humming under your breath, hair tied messily back, sleeves rolled up, rubber gloves on as you scrub the kitchen counter. You’ve got a rhythm going now coffee in one hand, spray bottle in the other when your phone buzzes violently on the kitchen table.

Unknown number.

You eye it warily. “spam probably,” you mutter, and swipe to answer.

“Hello?”

There’s a pause. Then, a raspy voice filters through the line.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You blink, lowering the rag in your hand. The voice is very clearly trying to be creepy. You almost snort. “Oh noooo,” you reply, drawing the word out theatrically. “Am I getting murdered? On my day off? While cleaning? How tragic. Couldn’t you have waited until after I vacuumed?”

“Don’t play coy,” the voice croaks. “I’m watching you.”

You grin, spinning around slowly “Really? Can you see the mess? You picking up a mop, Ghostface, or are you just here to critique my technique?”

The voice falters for a beat barely before continuing, deeper this time. “You’re not scared?”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” you say, smirking. “Especially of the part where Hizashi Yamada thinks I can’t recognize his dumb little ‘murder voice’ when I’ve heard him try to do Batman impressions at 3AM. you do know youre a hero too right?”

There’s a pause. Then you hear a stifled laugh on the other end. “Damn it,” he says, dropping the voice completely.

You giggle, proud of yourself, pulling off your gloves. “Sorry my love but I could recognize your voice for forever.”

“Okay, okay,” Hizashi chuckles, his voice light and warm. “But I was gonna ask if you wanted to play a game.”

“I dont know if I want freaky phone sex”

“ew gross im not 50.”

You laugh again, walking toward the living room, phone still pressed to your ear. “How long have you been planning this little Scream parody, huh?”

But there’s no answer.

”…Hello?” You frown, pulling the phone back to look at it. Still connected.

“Hizashi?”

You turn and scream. Because he’s right there, behind you. Warm arms wrap around your waist from behind as you jump a solid foot off the floor, nearly smacking him with your phone. “Surprise, baby!” Hizashi yells cheerfully, laughter bubbling in his throat as he pulls you back into a hug.

“WHAT THE YOU ” you whirl around, heart pounding, still breathless. “You absolute menace! You said you were on tour!”

He grins, sheepish and proud all at once. “it was more of a business trip. thought it would be fun to mess with you. You liked my voice though, right? I practiced it!”

You’re still processing, adrenaline buzzing in your limbs, laughing and half ready to strangle him. “You lunatic. you scared me”

He leans in with a smirk, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “That means I did my job in messing with you”

You shove him lightly, blushing from the shock, the laugh, the him. “you're such a dork”

He doesn’t let go. You can feel the smug grin against your cheek as he leans in closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your skin prickle.

“Y’know…” he murmurs, “you could’ve just said you missed me. Instead of sending me a five part essay on why I’m ‘the literal sun personified with legs and a stupidly charming voice.’”

You freeze. Then, very slowly, you pull back just enough to look up at him, wide eyed.

“stopppp it right now?!”

He’s grinning no, beaming like the devil. “what I love knowing how much my girl loves me”

“Oh my God.” You try to wriggle out of his grip once again, face burning hot enough to fry an egg. “Those were not for your eyes! That was venting!”

“you sure about that?” he drawls, tightening his grip and following you as you try to escape. “Was it venting when you called me ‘the reason I wake up smiling like a dumbass every morning’? Or was that creative journaling?”

“I was vulnerable!” you protest, ducking your head as you laugh and cringe all at once. “I didn’t know you’d actually see those!”

“Babe,” he says, in a sing song tone, “you sent them to me. Directly. I got one while I was on stage. Almost read it out loud by accident.”

You groan. “Kill me.”

“Nah.” He kisses your temple. “You’re way too cute when you’re flustered. I live for this.”

You flop onto the couch with a sigh, burying your face in a cushion. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hizashi plops down beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in.

“Oh c’mon,” he says, voice softer now. “I loved those messages. Every single word. Even the ones where you spelled ‘irresistible’ wrong.”

You peek up through your fingers. “Did not.”

“Did too.”

You groan again, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “Why are you like this?”

He kisses your forehead, smiling against your skin.

“Because you love me and I love you,” he whispers.

You sigh, defeated, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “…Yeah,” you admit. “I really, really do.”

“Good,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “Now c’mon, my love. Let’s clean.”

You sit up sceptical . “I don't trust you”

But he’s already up, bounding toward the phone like a man on a mission. “‘Hizashi Yamada is the human equivalent of a serotonin shot,’” he reads theatrically, spinning with the spray bottle like it’s a mic. “ Signed, future Mrs. Yamada. Awwww.”

Your scream echoes through the house as you chase him, laughing so hard your sides ache.

[sirxaibs]

this ate so much 🤤

Hi, I was wondering if you can do a Dark Male! Maleficent x female reader who is the mother of Aurora?

You were once the beloved of Maleficent, the dark and powerful fae lord, before King Stefan, his closest friend, stole you away, marrying you and making you queen.

When you bear Stefan a daughter, Princess Aurora, Maleficent's betrayed heart turns to vengeance.

He curses the child, ensuring she will die when she pricks her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel before the sun sets on her 16th birthday and dies.

Merryweather softened the curse so she would only fall into a deep sleep instead of dying on her sixteenth birthday unless true love’s kiss breaks the spell.

Your husband assigned three fairies to look after Aurora, and they are Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather.

However, you insisted on going with them to look after your daughter, to which Stefan hesitantly agreed.

One evening, as you gathered herbs near the edge of the forest with Aurora, you felt it, a presence, dark and familiar.

"Does Stefan ever visit?"

The voice echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned slowly, your breath catching as he emerged from the trees

Maleficent.

Taller than you remembered, his horns gleaming like polished onyx, his green eyes glowing in the dim light.

His cloak of raven feathers shifted with every step, the air around him humming with restrained power.

"No," you answered softly, gripping your basket tighter. "He never has."

Maleficent's lips curled into a smirk. "How tragic. To abandon his wife and child… just as he abandoned loyalty."

You swallowed hard. "Why are you here?"

His gaze burned into yours.

"I could ask you the same. You were a queen. Now you live in a cottage, hiding like a common thief."

"I'm protecting my daughter," you snapped.

"From me?" He asks.

His gaze turns to the unaware princess as she happily collects the herbs.

"I could remove the curse."

Your heart fills with hope as you quickly demand what he wants.

"What are your conditions?"

"You know what I want," he said.

Your breath hitched.

"I loved you. Before he ever dared whisper your name. I would have razed kingdoms for your happiness, and yet..." His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.

"He took you. Lied to me, made me believe you had chosen him."

Your eyes widened. "That’s not true!"

"Is it not?" he snapped, stepping closer, his voice like thunder beneath his breath.

"He told me you saw me as a monster, that you were frightened of what I was, that you were grateful he saved you.”

"I never said that!" you gasped.

"Stefan… he told me you had left, that you were consumed by darkness and no longer cared-"

Maleficent's eyes narrowed, coming to realise what has happened.

"He poisoned us both."

"I would have chosen you," you admit, voice trembling.

"I did choose you. But when he said you were gone, I-"

He was in front of you now, so close, his scent giving you nostalgia.

His hand lifted, hesitated, then brushed a strand of hair from your cheek, the touch was gentle.

"Then come back to me," Maleficent stares firmly.

"You, leave this hollow life behind, the curse remains unless I lift it. But I will not do so unless I know you are mine again."

"I can't just walk away," you said. "She's his daughter too."

"He does not deserve her," Maleficent said coldly. "And you know it. He has not lifted a finger to protect her. You have. You’ve always been the one.”

Your gaze moves to your daughter, thinking matters over.

"Renounce your marriage to him, and I will make you my wife and I will raise Aurora as my daughter and make her the princess of the Moors."

Now, staring back at the Fae king, you make your decision.

You are ready to sacrifice everything for your daughter's safety.

"As long as you keep your promise and lift the curse I will also keep my promise."

Part Two>>>

[sirxaibs]

you hook up with izuku drunkenly at someone’s birthday party and it’s not even that you regret it in the morning it’s just that your post nut clarity hits that you slept with the boy you’ve known since pre-k all because of a couple of drinks and when he wakes up you’re still freaking out and you make him pinky promise that this won’t mess with your friendship, “izuku do you hear me? we are NOT going to be that pair of sad best friends that fucks everything up just because of sex. sex is nothing. we’re never gonna do it again, so we’ll be fine right?” and the whole time he’s nodding along with wide, glassy eyes not listening to a goddamn thing you’re saying because he’s been in love with you since middle school, and last night you said you loved him, too. granted he was inside of you, and he said it first, but you said it back, and by that point it was well after one in the morning so the only thing you two were drunk on were each other. it’s probably why the very next day he is at your doorstep with a notebook in hand and a grin on his face that’s something right in between cocky and sweet when he says “i think we should sleep together again. and before you say no, i made a list about why 😁 number one: we’re really good at it. number two—”

[sirxaibs]

Hizashi Yamada / Present Mic X Reader

↻ Off The Record ↺

Masterlist

So like….. this one I really thought of a Batman/ Jason Todd reader…. Also its been a while! whoopie! also this is a lot of tension without resolve. Someone asked for a angst one but then wanted comfort and by the time I was done this I realized it was too late for that. So youll be getting a double angst fic soon for some more comfort.

Synopsis: You and Hizashi had a family. Until one day you didn’t. When is it a point that you can avenge your family.

The camera focuses in on a patch of green where a blanket is spread out. Sitting cross legged in the middle of it is a young woman hair tied up messily, sleeves rolled past her elbows, and wearing an old, oversized band shirt that’s clearly been through more than one laundry battle. She’s got something smudged on her cheek maybe mashed banana and she doesn’t seem to notice or care. Just in front of her, a baby with soft blond hair and a gummy smile is trying to crawl with intense determination. Their chubby little arms slap against the blanket as they inch forward, letting out squeals of delight every time they gain a few inches. From behind the camera, Hizashi’s voice comes through, a little breathless from laughter.

“You’re getting this, right?” the reader calls, glancing up with a grin.

“I never stopped,” Hizashi replies, his voice warm. “I always catch the moments of my beautiful girls”

“You said that last time and then forgot to hit record,” she teases, catching the baby just as they topple forward with a squeak. She lifts them into the air with practiced ease, blowing a raspberry on their tummy that makes them shriek with laughter.

“That was one time,” he defends, shifting the camera a bit to frame her better. “And anyway, you’re the one covered in banana. If anything, I’m preserving art right now.”

The reader sticks her tongue out at him, still holding the baby against her chest. “bleh bleh bleh.” The baby reaches up, curious fingers poking at her face before pressing against her nose. She goes still, cross eyed, then bursts into laughter.

“Oh no. That was a critical hit. Guess I’m down for the count,” she groans playfully, flopping back into the grass and pulling the baby down with her. The baby giggles again, burying their face against her collarbone. Her hand comes up to gently support the back of their head, and her laughter softens into something quieter, more content. The camera zooms in just a little. The sunlight catches the edges of her hair, and even from behind the lens, it’s obvious how peaceful she looks. Hizashi’s voice lowers, more to himself than anything.

“My beautiful beautiful girls”

The camera lingers on the moment the baby nestled against her, her hand cradling them gently, her eyes half closed as she sways slightly in the grass. The wind moves through the trees, and for a moment, everything is still.

[END RECORDING 1]

There’s a small inflatable pool in the center of the yard. The water sloshes gently as a toddler barely old enough to speak in full sentences sits inside, smacking the surface with open palms and laughing at the splash. The reader crouches at the edge of the pool, sleeves rolled up and jeans cuffed just above the ankle. She’s holding a little plastic cup, pretending to sip from it before handing it back to the toddler with exaggerated delight. “Mmm! That’s the best pool water tea I’ve ever had,” she says, wiping fake tears from her eyes. “You really outdid yourself this time.” The toddler giggles and claps, delighted, before refilling the cup by dunking it haphazardly back into the pool. Most of it spills over their arm.

“You want more!” they declare proudly.

“Oh, absolutely. A whole round, chef,” she grins, holding out her hands with mock anticipation. “Let me savor this deluxe pool water blend.”

From behind the camera, Hizashi’s voice breaks in. “You two openin’ a café back there or just giving away five star service to VIPs?”

“You wish you were invited,” the reader calls, not looking back. The camera jerks a little clearly Hizashi’s picking it up now. The view bobs as he walks closer, eventually settling in on the reader and the toddler who’s now attempting to pour the ‘tea’ onto her head. She shrieks and leans back just in time.

“No! We don’t serve it like that! That’s assault!” she laughs. The toddler dissolves into giggles, proud of the reaction. Hizashi kneels beside the pool, one arm visible as he reaches in to push a floating rubber duck toward the baby.

“You’re teachin’ them all your bad habits,” he teases, looking over at her with a crooked grin.

“Oh, yeah?” she says, nudging him with her shoulder. “She got your hair and your voice. you have cursed her.”

“extremely cool and amazing style, you mean,” Hizashi corrects with a wink, then turns the camera back to the toddler who’s now taken the duck and is trying to make it “fly” through the water. There’s a long pause no talking, just the soft splash of water, the toddler’s happy babbling, the creak of a tree branch above them. The camera dips a little, and Hizashi exhales slowly through his nose. His voice is quieter when he speaks again.

“Man… she’s getting so big.”

The reader leans back on her hands, watching the child with that same soft look from the last video. “I know,” she says. “I keep thinking if I blink too long, I’ll miss something.”

The toddler looks up, eyes shining, and yells, “Dada! Look!” holding up a soggy duck triumphantly. Hizashi laughs, hand coming into frame to gently ruffle the baby’s wet hair. “I see ya, little rocker. Ten outta ten splash style.” The screen slowly starts to fade as the camera slips back into the grass, forgotten in favor of joining the moment.

[END RECORDING 2]

The room is dark, lit only by the faint blue glow of a laptop screen. Everything else is still. The walls are lined with old posters and shelves cluttered with memories records, photos, little things that once felt important. But right now, all of that fades into the background. Hizashi sits hunched in front of the desk, elbows on his knees, head bowed low. He’s still in his clothes from the day, shoes kicked off and forgotten beside the chair. The laptop screen flickers as a video ends static for half a second and then begins again.

The reader is sitting in the grass, wind in her hair, laughing as their baby crawls toward her. Her voice echoes faintly from the speakers. “C’mon, c’mon ! You can do it, little storm!”

Hizashi doesn’t speak. He barely blinks. His fingers, curled tight around the laptop’s edges, twitch. He rewinds the video ten seconds. Plays it again. Rewinds. Again. Over and over. The sound of her laugh becomes a loop warm, full of life, a sound that feels so distant now it may as well be from another lifetime. His chest rises with a shallow breath then another. A shaking exhale escapes his throat, and he bites the inside of his cheek as if that might hold something in. His eyes stay locked on the screen.

“C’mon, little storm,” she says again, softer this time.

The baby giggles. He presses pause. The image freezes on her face smiling, eyes glowing with joy. The baby is half lunging forward, caught mid motion. Hizashi swallows hard, jaw tight, knuckles white. He presses play again. Then rewind. Again. Again. There’s no sound in the room now except for the looping of her voice and the faint whir of the laptop fan. His breathing grows uneven, but he doesn’t let himself cry. Not yet. He just sits there, stuck in time with her rewinding the only piece of her that he still had.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 Hizashi’s sprawled on the couch, one leg kicked up over the armrest. He’s wearing his tinted glasses, though they’ve slipped slightly down his nose. In his hands is a sleek, beat up notebook with audio notes scrawled in the margins and ideas circled three times. Across from him, Aizawa sits in a chair, arms crossed, hair pulled back just enough to look like he tried. He’s sipping something that probably started as coffee but has long since gone cold.

“so I was thinking,” Hizashi says, flipping the notebook toward Aizawa with a grin, “for the next episode, I bring in a retired pro hero who’s been doing underground rescue work. You know, off the grid, totally unofficial, but still out there saving people. The guy’s voice is all gravel and chain smoke it’ll sound awesome in post.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re going to platform someone who’s technically breaking the law?”

“It’s inspiring, not incriminating. I’ll edit carefully.” Hizashi grins, waggling his brows. “And I’m not naming names. Just telling stories.”

“You said that last time and still ended up with Nezu calling you in for a ‘polite conversation’ that lasted an hour and a half.”

“He understands.”

Aizawa sighs into his cup. “If it were me, they’d shut the whole thing down.”

“That’s because you sound like dead puppies or something. total buzzkill” A faint twitch tugs at Aizawa’s mouth full of amusement.Hizashi laughs, stretching his arms behind his head. “Hey, what can I say? People like when I talk. It’s either the podcast or every event this place has. If i was bad at what I do they would not ask me to do the things I dooooooo.”

“ew stop.”

Hizashi leans forward, smirking. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a fan club of sleepy office workers who listen to you while folding laundry.”

“Correct,” Aizawa deadpans. “I want none of that.”

Before Hizashi can fire back, the intercom crackles to life, breaking the moment. “Yamada, Aizawa please report to my office at your earliest convenience,” Nezu’s cheerful voice chirps through the speakers. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble!.”

The intercom clicks off. A beat of silence. Hizashi squints up at the ceiling. “I feel like im in highschool again”

Aizawa sets down his mug with a quiet sigh and stands, already reaching for his capture weapon. “He calls you like this all the time”

“Yeah so exactly like highschool” Hizashi follows, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch.

“I just want to go home.”

“Come on, Shota, don’t be like that,” Hizashi grins, catching up as they head for the door. “Our fearless leader is calling.” “ugggggggh.” And with that, the lounge door swings shut behind them.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The door to Nezu’s office swings open with a faint creak, the familiar scent of tea and paper drifting out to meet them. Nezu sits perched behind his desk, paws folded neatly, tail swishing slowly as he watches them enter with that ever pleasant smile that somehow always makes people nervous.

“Ah, thank you for coming so quickly!” he chirps. Aizawa steps in first, quiet and unreadable, hands shoved in his pockets. Hizashi follows, a little slower, his usual swagger dialed down into something more neutral though he still offers Nezu a quick two finger salute. Nezu gestures to the chairs across from him. “Please, have a seat. I won’t keep you long.”

The two settle in, Hizashi lounging back while Aizawa sits forward slightly, eyes already narrowed in suspicion. Nezu picks up a folder from his desk and slides it open with practiced ease. “I received a request this morning from a pro hero agency one you both are familiar with.” He lifts his gaze, tone still light. “Lumine’s (Y/n hero Name) agency.”

Aizawa’s eyes flick to Hizashi before Nezu even finishes the sentence. Hizashi goes still. Nezu continues, unaware or simply unbothered by the sudden tension in the air. “They’ve taken on a delicate undercover case. They need more pro heroes involved enough to form the appearance of a cooperative task force, but discreet enough that it doesn’t draw too much attention. They specifically asked if I had any heroes in mind.”

Hizashi’s fingers curl around the arm of the chair. Aizawa’s voice cuts in, cool and even. “Send someone else.”

Nezu blinks, tilting his head. “Oh?”

Aizawa doesn’t look at Hizashi. “There are plenty of capable pros who could play the part. You don’t need us.”

“I’m aware,” Nezu replies calmly, clasping his paws again. “But your teamwork history with her is one of the strongest among U.A. affiliated heroes. There’s a unique rhythm there. And in this case, familiarity might be more useful than sheer numbers.”

“Still,” Aizawa starts again, firmer this time, “it’s a mistake.”

But before he can say more, Hizashi leans forward. “I’ll do it.”

Aizawa finally looks at him. “Yamada ”

“I’ll do it,” Hizashi repeats, more certain now, even though his jaw’s tight. His voice is steady, but his eyes aren’t quite meeting Aizawa’s. “She asked for help. I’m not gonna sit back and pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Aizawa studies him for a long, silent moment. There’s something sharp behind his gaze, something protective. He doesn’t speak again not yet. Nezu nods, pleased. “I knew I could count on you.”

He turns to Aizawa next. “And what about you?”

Aizawa doesn’t answer right away. He looks at Hizashi again, then slowly exhales through his nose. “…Fine,” he mutters, rubbing at the corner of his eye. “But I’m not playing backup if this gets personal.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Hizashi says quietly.

Nezu claps his paws together. “Wonderful! I’ll forward you the brief. You’ll both head out in two days.”

As they stand to leave, Hizashi lingers for a moment, staring down at the folder still resting on Nezu’s desk. His eyes trace the corner of your name just barely peeking from a report inside. His hand tightens once before he forces it to relax. And then he turns, following Aizawa out of the room.

The door shuts behind them with a soft click, sealing off Nezu’s office and all the weight it carried. The hallway is quiet. Hizashi walks a step ahead, hands shoved deep in his pockets, mouth set in a line. His usual energy is gone no humming, no idle chatter, no light bounce in his step. Just silence. Aizawa follows beside him, eyeing the tension in his shoulders, the way he hasn’t said a word since they left the office. They pass a group of first years who pause to wave, but Hizashi doesn’t even notice.

“What was that?”

Hizashi glances sideways. “What?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Aizawa says, voice low.

Hizashi doesn’t answer right away. They keep walking past empty classrooms, the echoes of their steps filling the space between them. Finally, he exhales, slow and shaky. “It’s just been a while,” he says, too quickly.

Aizawa stops walking. Hizashi slows but doesn’t turn. he he “I’m serious,” Aizawa says. “If this is going to get in your head, I need to know now. You’re not the only one going in. I’m not dragging you out of something you weren’t ready for.”

Hizashi finally stops, his back still to Aizawa. He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it more than usual, then turns halfway just enough to speak over his shoulder. “She asked for help, Shota,” he says quietly. “Whether she meant to or not, she did. I’m not gonna ignore that.”

Aizawa’s gaze narrows. “This isn’t about obligation. Don’t pretend it is.”

Hizashi chuckles once, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s not. But… I need to do this. Maybe for her. Maybe for me. I don’t know yet.”

Aizawa steps closer, voice dropping lower. “You haven’t talked to her since…”

“Yeah,” Hizashi cuts in. He finally turns fully, arms crossed, leaning back against the wall like he’s trying to hold himself up with it.

“I miss her every single day,” he murmurs. “Whether I understand it or not Im going to be there for her”

Aizawa watches him in silence, the faint crease between his brows softening just a little. “Alright,” he says. “If you’re in, I’m in.”

Hizashi gives a weak smile. “Thanks, man.”

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 Hizashi and Aizawa step in, both dressed In their hero gear. Hizashi scans the place, mouth a thin line. Aizawa just yawns behind his scarf. “Can I help you?” the receptionist asks, eyeing them both before recognition softens her tone. “Oh Present Mic, Eraserhead. Lumine said to expect you.”

“She mention what this was about?” Aizawa asks, voice low.

“She said she’d brief you personally,” the receptionist replies with a tight smile. “She’s just ”

FWUMP.

A faint rush of wind and a shimmer of light drift in through the skylight above and then you land lightly in the center of the room, boots clicking softly as you straighten. Hair tousled by the wind you offer a nod to the others in the room before your gaze lands on the newcomers.

Your breath catches for a beat. Hizashi. You weren’t expecting him. But you recover quickly. A smile curls at your lips professional, measured, but undeniably a great thing. You brush your hair back and take a few steps forward.

“Thanks for coming,” you say to the room, your voice smooth and sure. “I’ll keep this quick. The mission’s simple. There’s a formal pro hero gala tonight big guest list, all high ranking heroes and agency leaders. Somewhere in that crowd is a contact I need to extract information from.”

You pause and glance around. “Problem is, I can’t make a direct move. Too many eyes. So I need all of you trusted faces to act as cover. Draw attention, start conversations, keep the spotlight off me.”

One of the pros a tall woman with a flame patterned cape raises a brow. “You brought this many people just to run interference?”

The others murmur similar questions. Your smile doesn’t waver. “Sometimes the most valuable thing in a room full of pros isn’t strength. It’s distraction. And trust.”

Still, a few of them exchange skeptical looks. Then, from your left “…Why us?” The voice was one you knew all too well. Hizashi steps forward just a little, arms crossed. He’s not challenging you but his gaze is steady, careful. “Why me?”

The room goes quiet. You meet his eyes those same eyes that used to crinkle when he laughed too hard. Your heart stutters, but your smile remains. “Because Nezu has a good memory,” you say lightly. “he knows what works best.” Hizashi tilts his head, lips parting like he might say something else but you turn toward the rest of the team before he can. “Everyone, get your formal gear ready. The gala starts at eight. I’ll brief you again in the transport. No costumes. No weapons. just please kiss some ass.”

As the others disperse, still murmuring to each other, you linger where you stand eyes trailing Hizashi just a little longer than necessary before turning away. He watches you, silent, that same tension in his shoulders he had in Nezu’s office.

Aizawa quietly steps up beside him and mutters, “This was a bad idea.” But Hizashi doesn’t answer. He just keeps watching you. The corridor glows with warm light from the sunset bleeding through the floor to ceiling windows, streaking gold across polished floors and glass panels. It’s quiet up here. Peaceful. A break from the constant motion of the agency below. You stand near the railing, clipboard in hand, eyes trained on the city skyline but you’re not really looking at it. Your smile is soft, just enough to pass, just enough to say: I’m fine. This is fine. Behind you, footsteps approach. Light, familiar. You don’t turn.

“You always did like ahen things were quiet,” Hizashi says casually, his voice easy, light. “Something poetic about it.”

You turn your head just a little, enough to see him in your peripheral. “Poetic? Did you pick up a new hobby? must have been something I missed while you were off being a radio star?” You make it a joke. You even add a small laugh that feels practiced now.

Hizashi steps up beside you, resting his elbows on the railing, looking out. “Nah. Still can’t write poetry for anything. But I can still recognize when you are hiding.”

Your smile twitches, just slightly. But it doesn’t drop. “If I was hiding, this would be the worst place to do it. Big windows.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you from the side. “I didn’t come up here for the mission,” he says finally.

You nod slowly, still staring straight ahead. “Yeah. I figured.”

“You gonna ask why I did?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” You keep your voice airy. “Everyone missed me. I’m the star attraction around here.”

Hizashi’s laugh is quiet. “You always were in my eyes”

You turn to face him with a too sunny smile. “Anyways Present Mic, what can I do for you?”

That earns a grin from him, but there’s something searching in his eyes like he’s not buying it. Like he never really did. “Just wanted to see you,” he says, voice quieter now. “Cant say that Ive seen you in a while”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the clipboard. “Well, lucky for you, this is it. Ta da.”

But it doesn’t come out with the same flair as usual. The exhaustion slips through the cracks. He catches it. “You don’t have to pretend with me, y’know,” he says gently. “You never did.”

then you laugh small, hollow, just barely a sound. “You say that like it’s easy.”

He tilts his head. “Isn’t it easier than bottling it up?”

You look away again. “Bottling it up got me this far.”

Another silence. You hear him shift closer, just a little. Still not touching, but close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from him. “I missed you,” he says.

You blink. Slowly. The weight of those words settle over your shoulders like a coat you forgot belonged to you. “I missed a lot of things,” you murmur. “Doesn’t mean I know what to do with them now.”

“You don’t have to,” Hizashi replies. “Just… don’t shut the door all the way, okay?”

Your smile fades, softens into something tired and unsure. But you nod. “…Okay.”

He leans a little closer, voice gentle. “And for the record? I didn’t come up here for closure. I came up here because the door’s still open. Even if it’s just a crack.”

You let out a slow breath. Then quietly, more vulnerable than you’d like you say, “Don’t make promises you don’t plan to keep.”

Hizashi smiles “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The room is quiet except for the soft clink of a makeup brush against a ceramic palette and the low hum of distant city traffic. Golden light from the setting sun filters through the tall windows, catching on your vanity mirror. You sit in front of it, barely blinking as you apply a dark line of eyeliner with practiced ease. Your reflection stares back at you. Polished. Perfect. Controlled. Like you haven’t broken a hundred times over. Your hand pauses mid swipe. Lips slightly parted, mascara wand hovering. The image in the mirror doesn’t look like you. Not the version of you who’s been slipping through alleyways in the dead of night. Not the version who helps the desperate and the voiceless when the system turns away. This version? She’s a performance. She’s what the hero system still expects you to be. You press the wand down and exhale shakily. And then your mind drifts to him.

Hizashi.

Of all the people Nezu could’ve sent, of all the names that could’ve landed on that list it had to be his. You grit your teeth, swallowing the rise of emotion burning in your throat. Of course you still love him. You always have. From his dumb jokes to his reckless optimism. From the way he held your baby like the world might fall if he didn’t… to the way he shattered when it actually did. But that love lives under the ash of everything you lost. The system said you couldn’t move your child. Protocol. Civilians were to shelter in place while pros handled the threat. And what happened? He escaped again. Again. Again.

How many people did it take before they actually locked him away? Too late. Always too late. Your hand trembles against the vanity. They told you to trust the law. To wait. They said justice would come. It did but only after blood. So you stopped trusting them. You still wear the hero name, still hold the title because it’s useful. But when the uniform comes off, you become you. The one who helps where the law won’t go. The one who tracks the ones the system forgets. The one who avenges. You sacrificed everything to live that life. Even him. Even love. Because the hero system let you bury your child. And now… now you’re here again, curling your lashes, dabbing soft shimmer onto your eyelids, pretending you’re whole. Pretending you’re going to a party. Pretending you’re just another hero at a gala with a mission.

You click the lipstick shut, the final touch complete. The woman in the mirror stares back beautiful, unreadable, deadly. No one in that room tonight will see anything else. You rise slowly, smoothing out the fabric of your dress midnight blue, sleek and elegant, with a slit that hides your knives and your scars. Another mask. You glance once more at your reflection.

“…Let’s get this over with,” you whisper.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The gala glows beneath chandeliers and camera flashes, a swirl of polished shoes, clinking glasses, and hero agency logos gilded in gold along the walls. Music hums soft and jazzy beneath the polite roar of conversation, laughter.

Hizashi Yamada is in the center of it all, exactly where he knows you need him to be. His suit is sharp dark green with golden accents, the kind of color that catches the light just enough to make him pop. His hair’s tied back neatly, but the grin on his face is pure Present Mic: loud, magnificent , effortless.

“C’mon, c’mon!” he says, waving his drink with a flourish as a small circle of heroes gathers around him. “You haven’t lived until you’ve been in a karaoke bar in Osaka with Gang Orca and Fat Gum. I swear Orca screamed ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ like his life depended on it!”

The circle bursts into laughter, even the stiffer heroes cracking smiles. A few paparazzi hover near the edge of the group, lenses trained on him, capturing every animated gesture and flashy grin. Exactly as planned. If he was going to do this help you with this mission he was going to do it right. Draw the spotlight. Drown out the background. Let you move like a shadow behind the scenes.

“You’re really working this room,” comes Aizawa’s voice, low and unimpressed, as he appears beside him with a glass of water in hand and his long coat thrown over the more traditional black suit.

“Course I am,” Hizashi says through a grin, only just glancing at him. “Isn’t that the job?”

“You’re being loud even for you.”

“People like loud,” Hizashi replies, motioning around the room. “Loud means attention babygirl”

Aizawa physically recoils at the nickname ans follows his gaze. Your figure is barely visible, cutting clean through the crowd in a sleek dress, slipping between clusters of distracted pros with silent precision. You’re already at the far end of the room, unnoticed. Unbothered. Just like you wanted.

Aizawa hums, eyes flicking back to Hizashi. “So, what happens if they start looking for you when the lights go down?”

Hizashi’s grin softens, just a little.

“Then I keep being the one people hear.”

And with that, he throws an arm around a nearby hero, dragging them into the conversation, voice booming again like nothing’s changed. But behind the volume, behind the show, his eyes keep darting toward the edges of the room where he knows you are. And he prays they keep looking at him, just a little longer.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The room spins in soft gold and velvet shadows as the band shifts into something slower strings and piano, romantic and dangerously timed. Laughter hushes to murmurs as couples begin to gather at the polished dance floor, gliding in practiced steps.

He sees you. You step out from the fringe of the crowd, no longer a shadow. No longer just the woman on a mission. You’re standing beneath a chandelier, its light bathing you in soft firelight. Midnight blue silk wraps around you like the night itself, slit high enough to whisper of the weapons hidden beneath, and yet all he sees is you. like the memory he’s never been able to rewrite. Hizashi’s mouth parts, breath catching in his throat. For a second just a second he forgets what he’s supposed to be doing. He forgets the crowd, the mission, the weight of years between you.

All he sees is the love of his life.

You’re scanning the room, eyes sharp but you feel it the burn of a gaze that cuts deeper than the others. When you meet it, your chest tightens. Of course he’s looking at you like that. Like it’s the first time. Like it’s the last time. Like it’s always been you. Your jaw ticks slightly, but before you can move away.

He’s already in front of you. You feel it before you see him. His hand on your waist. Warm, firm. Familiar. His other hand gently, reverently, slides into yours. Your breath stutters. “Dance with me,” he says, voice low, the wild energy of his public persona stripped away.

You look up, annoyed just a little. “This isn’t part of the plan.” But there’s no venom in your tone. There never is, not with him.

His thumb brushes your hip, soft. “Maybe not. But I’ve waited years for five minutes with you that weren’t shadowed in grief.” He leans down, hand still clasping yours, and presses a kiss to your wrist. Then another, up your arm. Slow. Like he’s memorizing the pieces of you he thought he’d never touch again. You say nothing. You don’t pull away. Because your heart is screaming. He leads you gently toward the floor. The crowd shifts, moving out of your path, and the room seems to hush, the music rising as the two of you step into its rhythm. You dance. Bodies close, breath shared. His touch is careful, not possessive never possessive but like he’s holding something fragile. You’re stiff at first, guarded, but then your fingers curl tighter in his hand, your other hand brushing his shoulder. It feels like coming home and stepping into a fire, all at once.

Neither of you speaks. You don’t need to. His hand squeezes yours. you let yourself rest your cheek against his shoulder for just a moment. One song. That’s all he asked for. And for the first time in what feels like forever… You let him have it.

The music wraps around you like silk smooth and slow, the kind of song that sways rather than marches. You move with him, step for step, breath for breath. But your posture is rigid. Not cold, not cruel just closed. Hizashi doesn’t push. His hand remains at your waist, guiding you gently across the floor, fingers warm against your lower back. You’re dancing, but your eyes keep flicking away over his shoulder, past the crowd, toward your objective. He doesn’t mind. He’s just watching you. Fully. Softly. Like he doesn’t care who sees.

“Its been so long,” he murmurs, his voice low enough only for you. “you still look like a rockstar as much as the last time i've seen you”

You glance at him, unamused.

“Don’t start.”

He grins. “Just sayin’. It’s cute.”

Your brows tighten, your gaze cutting to the side. The rhythm doesn’t falter, but your walls stay up. You keep moving like a soldier dressed as a socialite. He chuckles softly, not deterred. “This dress, though…” His fingers graze the silk at your hip, reverent. “Do you know how beautiful you look”

You say nothing. You just breathe in through your nose, shoulders sharp.

“I mean it,” he goes on, shameless. “You look like a star. Like the kind that burns out entire galaxies”

You roll your eyes, lips twitching into a ghost of a smile. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well. I’m allowed to be,” he says, eyes on you like you’re a masterpiece. “Haven’t seen you like this in forever. Let me be ridiculous.”

You stare straight ahead, chin tilted just slightly higher. “I’m working,” you say softly.

“I know,” he replies, no protest in his tone. “I’m just dancing. With the woman I love.”

Your chest tightens. You hate the way that lands. The way it splits you open with something soft and aching. But you don’t reply. You just keep dancing. His thumb brushes circles against your spine.

“You’ve always been good at this,” he says suddenly, quieter now. “Ive always liked things loud and fast. But I think… I think I always liked you best when you stayed still. Just for a minute. Just long enough to look at me.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Not yet. He smiles anyway. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… needed to tell you.”

The song fades into its last few notes, and you step back from him, just a little. The space between you isn’t wide but it feels like miles. Still, his hand never drops yours.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The sun barely filters through the blinds of the teachers’ lounge, casting long stripes across the floor. The coffee in Hizashi’s mug has gone lukewarm. He doesn’t seem to notice. Slouched on the couch in his yellow hoodie and black joggers, he’s staring blankly at the muted TV screen as the early news drones on in the background. Aizawa stands near the counter, dark hair tied back, arms folded across his chest, his cup untouched. The room feels heavy like something is waiting to drop. Then the news breaks.

“We interrupt your regular programming with breaking news. Last night, the body of Daigo Nishida was discovered in a private lounge of the Pro Hero Gala. Authorities report the man had been dead for several hours before staff discovered the scene.”

Both men turn their heads.

Hizashi’s eyebrows pull together. “Wait what?”

Aizawa is already narrowing his eyes, moving toward the remote to turn the volume up.

“Initial speculation assumed it was a heart attack, but the situation has taken a drastic turn. Investigators have confirmed that Daigo Nishida had been under covert surveillance for months. Allegations include child trafficking, harassment, and laundering funds through hero support firms. Authorities are now treating the death as a possible homicide.”

A still photo of Nishida appears on the screen, taken at some formal event. He’s smiling. Glass raised in a toast.

Aizawa’s jaw clenches. “He was at the gala.”

Hizashi blinks slowly, sitting forward. “He was there. We were there. We were what, fifteen feet away the whole damn night?” They sit in stunned silence as the anchor continues listing charges, connections to known black market labs, even a supposed deal that fell through with a hero firm overseas. Hizashi scrubs a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me all that was happening and we were out there charming sponsors and spinning small talk?”

“I didn’t even see him in the crowd,” Aizawa mutters.

“Same.” Hizashi leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You’d think I’d catch a guy like that. Especially at that kind of event.” A beat of silence. He stares at the screen, face unreadable. “Can’t say I’m shedding tears over it, though.” Aizawa gives him a look but doesn’t disagree. Hizashi shakes his head, muttering, “Guy like that getting away with that much, that long… Makes you wonder who else was looking the other way.”

But he isn’t angry about that. Not really. His mind is already somewhere else circling you. He remembers the tension in your shoulders. The way you never quite softened, even when you danced with him. The way your eyes kept drifting always watching, always calculating. You’d known something. Or someone. And if you were close to it if you were even near whatever happened in that room Hizashi’s jaw tightens. I should check in on her, he thinks, quietly.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 Your fingers move fast, scribbling notes, signing documents, flipping pages without hesitation. There’s always more to do. There always has to be more to do. A knock breaks through the silence. You don’t look up. “Come in,” you call, already bracing yourself. Another pro. Another secretary. Another bright eyed intern wanting advice. Your voice shifts instinctively preparing the familiar bubbly tone, the one people expect from you now. But when the door opens, and you finally glance up Your heart stutters. Hizashi stands in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, the other tucked into his jacket pocket. His usual energy is dulled still him, still tall, still magnetic in the way only he is but quieter. He’s in his casual wear again: yellow hoodie layered under his bomber jacket, hair loose and a bit windswept from being outside. Your throat tightens. You immediately look back down at your papers, flipping to the next sheet like it’s more interesting than the man you once shared a life with. He steps inside slowly and closes the door behind him. You speak first, flat but polite. “Need something for the report?”

Hizashi doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he studies you. The way your jaw clenches. The way your pen stills just slightly before moving again. The way you’re not looking at him really refusing to. “…Are you okay?”

The question hangs there, heavier than it should be. You don’t flinch, but your fingers tense around the pen. “Why wouldn’t I be?” you reply, still not meeting his eyes.

“Because,” he says softly, stepping closer, “a man was killed at the gala last night. You were off on your own when it happened. who wouldnt be scared after that?.”

You finally stop writing. The silence stretches. He waits. You take a breath shallow, careful. Then say, “I’m fine.” And maybe if it were anyone else, they’d believe it. You’ve made a second career out of pretending to be fine.

But Hizashi isn’t anyone else. He watches you for another beat before quietly asking, “Can I sit?”

You finally look up at him again, reluctant. Just tired of trying to guard things he already knows. You gesture to the chair across from your desk. The air between you both feels thinner now. Hizashi leans forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands loosely folded, eyes never leaving you. His voice cuts through the quiet, softer than usual. No booming theatrics. No playful edge.

“…I miss you,” he says.

You blink, your chest tightening.

“I miss us.” He smiles faintly, almost bitterly. “There’s not a single day I don’t think about the life we had. About ” His voice catches for half a second. “ about our baby.” That word still feels sacred. Shattering. Whole. Your hand stiffens where it rests on the desk. But you don’t speak. “I still hear her laugh sometimes,” Hizashi says, his voice rougher now. “In my dreams. The little squeal she used to do when she saw you. The way she’d hold my finger with that tiny hand like she thought I could protect her from the whole damn world.”

You still say nothing. But you move. You get up slowly, walk across the room without a word, and turn the lock on the door with a soft click. Then, instead of sitting back behind the desk you perch on top of it. Facing him. Closer. A little more honest.

“I miss you too,” you say quietly and tiptoeing around the edges. “God, Hizashi… of course I miss you.” He looks up at you, eyes aching. You exhale a long, shaky breath. “But I couldn’t do it anymore. Not when the same system that asked us to stand for justice told me I wasn’t allowed to take my daughter to safety. Told me to wait. Told me it wasn’t protocol. Told me he’d be caught eventually.” Your voice wavers. “I needed to protect her. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“I know,” Hizashi whispers. There’s a beat. Then, he sits up straighter, eyes searching yours, like he’s stepping to the edge of a cliff. “…Come back,” he says. Your heart lurches. “Come back to me. Please.”

You look at him and the ache in his voice, the longing behind his words, it shreds through every wall you’ve tried to rebuild. Your gaze softens. “It’s too late,” you whisper. And yet your feet move before your mind can stop them. You slide off the desk, stepping between his legs, and lower yourself slowly into his lap. His hands hover at your sides, unsure, until your arms slide around his neck and your face finds the crook of his shoulder. Hizashi exhales shakily, like he’s been holding his breath for years. His arms curl around your waist, firm but reverent, pulling you impossibly closer. One hand presses flat against your back while the other slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair like he needs to remind himself this is real. You’re here. You’re his again, even if only for this moment. He buries his face against your shoulder, and you can feel it his breath catching, the way his chest rises like he’s trying not to break down.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he murmurs into your skin, voice barely holding steady. “What I’d say… what I’d do if I ever got to hold you again.” Your grip around his neck tightens, and your eyes sting, but no tears fall. Not yet. You’ve cried enough behind closed doors. You’ve mourned in silence long after the world moved on. “I thought letting you go would be what you needed,” he continues. “But I never stopped waiting. I never stopped hoping you’d come back. Or… or maybe you’d let me come to you.”

You stay quiet, your nose brushing the side of his neck, breath warming his skin.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The city hummed beyond the cracked walls of the abandoned parking structure, its sound dulled by distance and the encroaching dark. Sunset spilled its last rays through broken slats, casting jagged lines of orange across the concrete. The air was heavy with dust and the ghosts of burned rubber. Years of neglect stained the ground with oil and time, and now it bore the tension of a battleground. Hizashi’s boots struck the floor in rhythmic strides as he entered, his silhouette framed by the last bit of daylight. His voice rang out, echoing between the pillars with confident bravado, that trademark flair he never quite dropped. “C’mon, man,” he called, scanning the shadows. “You’ve got a good quirk, slick moves, and bad taste in timing! But you picked the wrong night to stir the pot.”

He could’ve waited for the rest of the team outside. Could’ve played it safe. But something in the reports had itched at the back of his brain, and he wanted to see this vigilante for himself. A sharp motion sliced through his peripheral. He pivoted instinctively, ducking just as a metal pipe came sailing through the air and smashed against a pillar with a shriek of impact. Hizashi spun on his heel, already shouting. “YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The Voice Pulse detonated like a cannon. A wave of sound surged forward, cracking the air and hammering into the attacker. They flew backward, slammed into the ground with a sickening thud that echoed like thunder. The impact threw up a cloud of dust and debris, choking the air in a fog of grit. Hizashi didn’t wait. He launched forward, every muscle braced, boots skidding as he weaved between the pillars. Another attack came this one closer. The vigilante had recovered faster than he expected. A shockwave burst from their palm, hurling a chunk of concrete at him with kinetic force. Hizashi ducked, rolled, and came up swinging his voice again, a controlled blast meant to knock them off balance without killing. The two clashed in rapid bursts strike, dodge, counter, repeat. Sparks flared as a baton scraped metal. Energy hissed against sonic force. It was messy, fierce, personal. The vigilante moved like someone who didn’t care about pain, only results. Hizashi fought like someone who had to win but didn’t want to destroy the person in front of him. Eventually, a low kick swept the vigilante’s legs out. Hizashi lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into their chest, sending them sprawling. They hit the ground hard, a choked gasp escaping as they slid across the cement and into a low wall.

Dust swirled again. Silence returned. A groan followed. Breath ragged, Hizashi jogged over, eyes narrowed behind his visor. The vigilante was pushing themselves up on one elbow. Their mask stark black with jagged red lines was cracked along the edge. Their body was wrapped in mismatched, tactical gear, not a hint of official regulation in sight. No hero would wear that. But the way they moved the way they flinched when he approached it twisted something in his gut, something he couldn’t quite name.

“You talk a big game,” he muttered, crouching beside them, keeping a cautious distance. “But your moves? yeah I can just guess thats all it is. All talk.”

The vigilante laughed, low and bitter, blood at the corner of their mouth. “You heroes,” they rasped, “you think you’re saving people by playing by the rules. But all you’re doing is running alongside the tracks, hoping the train’ll stop before it kills someone.”

Hizashi’s eyes darkened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know the trolley problem?” they asked, spitting blood to the side. “If one life saves ten, you pull the lever. If it saves a hundred, you run to pull it. But heroes?” They coughed, the sound dry and broken. “You wait for backup. For clearance. For someone to sign the damn form. You’re not saving anyone. You’re just dragging it out while more people get hurt.”

“Funny way to justify hurting people,” Hizashi said, quieter now. There was something about that voice. The cadence. The way they spoke like they’d already lost something they couldn’t get back. It echoed too close to home.

They didn’t answer. Didn’t move. He hesitated, then reached forward with a slow, steady hand. “You’re done,” he murmured. Fingers curled around the edge of the mask. A tug. It slipped free. Time stopped. The mask fell from his hand and hit the ground with a hollow clatter, echoing louder than it should’ve. His eyes widened. His breath caught halfway through his throat and never made it out. His heart slammed against his ribs like a prison break.

“No…” You were staring up at him. Your face was streaked with dirt, blood dried at your temple, lips cracked and trembling. But your eyes your eyes were the same. Hizashi staggered back a step, almost tripping over himself. “You?”

The word barely left his mouth. His voice, always so loud, now a broken whisper. Everything around him dust, darkness, the mission blurred into nothing. His hands shook. And then, you smiled. Faint. Wounded. Soft in a way that felt like the end of the world.

“Hello,” you whispered, voice hoarse but steady. Your eyes didn’t waver from his. “Hello, my love.” And just like that, Hizashi’s heart split clean down the middle.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead. The walls are sterile, lined with gray panels. A single metal table sits in the center, bolts securing it to the floor. Across from the table is you handcuffed, ankles crossed, posture relaxed like you’re waiting for a friend at a café. You’re smiling. The interrogator across from you flips a page in their file, eyes narrowed.

“You’re a pro hero. Top ten, even,” he says, frustration threading through his voice. “What made you throw all of that away?”

You lean forward a little, a glint of amusement in your eye. “I didn’t throw anything away,” you say cheerfully. “I just started picking up where everyone else left off.”

“Don’t play games. We’ve connected your movements to multiple incidents. Incidents where people wound up dead. Or disappeared.” His voice is harder now. “You were supposed to protect the system, not act like you’re above it.”

You rest your chin in your palm, smile deepening like it’s painted on. “And who exactly is the system protecting?” you ask softly, tone still sugar sweet. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t my kid.” The interrogator falters. You sit back, stretching your shoulders as much as the cuffs allow. “It’s funny,” you continue. “People love heroes until it’s inconvenient. Until they need someone to really fix things. But no one wants to get their hands dirty. No one wants to do anything. Just wait for the paperwork to clear, hope the next press conference goes well.” You laugh light, like a bell. Like none of this matters. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Being the good guy while watching people fall through the cracks.”

You tilt your head, still smiling. “Is it really a crime to protect the people I love?” Then your eyes shift slowly toward the mirrored glass. Behind the glass, Hizashi stands frozen. Shoulders rigid. Jaw clenched. You’re looking straight at him. i… he doesn’t look away. Not from the woman he still loves. Not from the woman he failed to protect. Not from the woman who’s trying to save others the only way she knows how. Hizashi hasn’t moved.

He’s barely breathing. Your words echo in his head “Is it really a crime to protect the people I love?” and they cut deeper than any blast or wound he’s ever taken. The interrogator beside him keeps talking into the mic, flipping pages, preparing more questions. But Hizashi doesn’t hear a word. His eyes are glued to you through the glass. That smile that isn’t really a smile. The light in your eyes that no longer warms. His hands are curled into fists. Then he speaks, voice low and uncharacteristically quiet.

“Let me talk to her.”

The interrogator glances at him. “Mic, she’s in the middle of an official ”

“I said,” Hizashi cuts in, sharper this time, “let me talk to her.”

The silence that follows isn’t long, but it’s heavy. Eventually, the man sighs and gives a short nod. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

Hizashi doesn’t wait. He’s already moving.

The door hisses open. Your eyes flick lazily toward it, the grin on your face sharp and bright an obvious performance, polished to perfection. But the moment you see who steps in, it falters for half a second. Hizashi. Of course. You straighten in your seat, smile shifting into something thinner, more barbed. “Well, if it isn’t Present Mic himself. Come to yell me into a confession?”

He says nothing at first, just closes the door gently behind him. His shoulders are rigid, but his eyes his eyes are soft. Too soft. You hate that. He takes a step toward the table. You don’t let him get close.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, voice low.

“Like you still can love me.” That silence is the kind that suffocates. He takes another step, and you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t need your pity, Present Mic,” you bite, spitting out the name like it burns your mouth. “I’ve made my bed.”

Hizashi flinches at the name. You’ve never had called him that before, opting for zashi even before dating. “Stop acting like you’re surprised,” you continue, leaning back in your chair, chains of the cuffs clinking against the table. “What did you think I was doing when I disappeared? Yoga retreats? This was always coming.”

“I’m not here to judge you,” he says, quietly. “I’m here because I needed to see you.”

“Well. You’ve seen me.” You motion dramatically with your cuffed wrists. “Hope the visual lives up to whatever fantasy you had in your head.”

His jaw tightens. You expect him to argue, to raise his voice, to be the loud, animated man everyone knows. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you achingly quiet. “I’m not here as Present Mic,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’m here as Hizashi. The man who inderstands this more than probably anyone else.”

Your face twitches, the hostility cracking like glass hit with a stone. You look away, blinking hard, gripping the edge of the table like it’ll keep you grounded. “You don’t get to say that,” you whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because you got to move on. You still get to be the hero. You didn’t have to become this.” You gesture to yourself worn down, tired, a mask made of bright smiles that hide nothing.

Hizashi takes the seat across from you, slow and careful like he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast. “I didn’t move on,” he says. “I just survived. Without you. Without our kid. Every damn day I woke up and wished everything played out different. Wished I’d fought harder. For both of you.”

You grit your teeth, eyes stinging. You won’t cry. You won’t cry in front of him. “You think this was easy for me?” you murmur. “You think I wanted this?”

“Then why didn’t you let me help?” he asks, and his voice breaks just a little. “Why did you shut me out?”

You finally meet his eyes. They’re glassy now. He’s holding everything in by a thread. “I didn’t want you to have to choose,” you say. “Between me and a normal life”

He leans forward. “I would’ve chosen you. Every time.”

You laugh once, sharp and bitter. “Yeah? Even if it meant losing your hero license? Even if it meant turning your back on everything you fought for?”

“If it meant protecting you?” Hizashi swallows hard. “If it meant protecting our kid?”

“There was never even a question.”

Your breath catches, chest tightening painfully. You blink down at your hands.

Hizashi: I miss you.

Reader: That’s unfortunate.

Hizashi: …I deserved that.

Reader: You really didn’t. I just have unresolved feelings and sarcasm is easier than tears.

[sirxaibs]

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

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

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

-Xai