Just Between Us
Just Between Us
- ☆ - Sanji x Reader
- ☆ - !WARNING OF EXPLICIT CONTENT- 18+!
- ☆ - 12k
- ☆ - a/n: ♧ reposting this fic because tumblr nuked it from the tags. if you ever happened to find the original two-parter floating somewhere lmk :3 ♧
- ☆ - tags: ♧ reader is a member of the straw-hats ♧ light!voyeurism ♧ teasing ♧ fem!reader ♧ some subby!sanji and dom!reader but Sanji-kun is a true switch :3 ♧ panty sniffing ♧ begging ♧ male!masturbation ♧ cum play-ish ♧ leg fetish(?) ♧ body worship ♧ humping ♧ Sanji gets a nose bleed so there will be mentions of blood ♧ idk how else to tag this but reader teases sanji and he's a lil desperate cunt-slut ♧ never had a beta, we die like fools ♧
“Bye, guys! Stay safe!”
Seated on Franky’s mechanical shoulders, Chopper waved back at you. His adorable laughter drifted past the treelines along with their farewells and energetic chaos fleeing towards another mini adventure. One you would not be a part of this time.
The rest of the crew left you on board with the promise to return soon as they scoured for supplies on an inhabited island, but with the way Luffy sped away— and Nami shouted after him— you knew there wouldn’t be much hope reigning in the Captain’s excitement.
You could trust Luffy to disrupt a plan and completely derail a simple situation. His shouts and the crew’s calls for him to slow down faded faster than the dust he left behind.
The seconds ticked.
You held your breath.
Standing alone, you listened intently for the silence to shatter the way you have become accustomed to— only to hear nothing but the squawk of birds resting on the mast. Undisturbed and unthreatened. Without so much as a song or laughter to burst, the ship rocked against the crystal waters of the shallow shore as you stood on the massive boat.
The world quiet, the view serene.
“Yes!” You let out an excited squeal, stomping your feet on the grassy deck in a silly dance of freedom and peace. “It’s finally quiet!” You shouted, laughing to yourself when no one answered you but the flaps of the wind against the furled sails above you.
There were no shouts other than your own, no arguments or explosions— no disturbances of other people. Finally! After five weeks of non-stop excitement and open sea, you twirled, jumped and danced your butt off with no one to interrupt or insult your ridiculous display of glee because you were alone!
“They all left, yes, yes!”
You sang merrily, taking up space with wide arms and a beaming smile.
You loved the straw hats. Travelling with them has been the most thrilling adventure of your life. They were amazing! Incredible, free-spirited— but sometimes, when the songs turn repetitive, and the merriment mutates into mayhem, you just want time to yourself.
Having grown up alone, you had become accustomed to the stillness of an empty room. It was comforting, the calmness of your own company and the hyper-independence it developed. A stark contrast to the life you started with your new makeshift family, and after so long of bumping and sharing space with colourful, loud personalities, you were thankful for the chance to stretch your arms and lay on the soft grass.
A moment to unwind, relax, and hear nothing but the waves below and revel in the tranquillity of solitude.
“Now, iced tea on the deck or a long bubble bath?” You mused out loud, whistling while making your way to the kitchen, “or both?” You paused up the stairs.
You sought to utilise all the time you had with maximum relaxation — with the way Luffy screamed over the odd-looking animal that stole his fruit; reading a book in the bathtub right now would guarantee no disturbances or uncomfortable attention for a while. No long lines or perverted interferences. You could take your time soaking in the warm water, and if they arrived by late dinner, they would find you already sated, happy and relaxed in the kitchen.
Right, decisions finally made, you went back down the stairs.
First, you needed your book back from Usopp, who swore he would finish and return yet never did, so you made your way to the boy’s quarters. They have lockers with their names, so it wouldn’t be too difficult unless he stashed it somewhere else, hopefully, the room wasn’t too messy— “Damn,” you heard someone hiss, a low voice that stopped you in your tracks, followed by inaudible murmurs that most definitely belonged to a man.
Fuck. Just like that, your good mood died, snatching your solitude away before you had the chance to indulge in it fully.
There was someone else here wrecking your fantasy and all the excitement of relaxing alone. No one ever said you would be guarding the ship with another person, yet the sounds of shuffling filled you with instant disappointment as you stood outside the room with the door slightly ajar.
You eyed them carefully through the crack, peeking in to seize a glimpse of who was ruining your day of fun, only to catch a wisp of blonde hair and a streak of smoke before you heard him hum something to himself as he shrugged off his suit jacket, clearly undressing.
Oh.
Swallowing your nerves, you spied from the slim gap through the door— watching smooth, slender hands loosen and tug on the tie around a pale neck until it slipped out and neatly folded on the dresser in front of him.
You paused, disappointment somehow melting as something else fluttered through your body. Something hot. Something wicked and indecent thumped an ache in your core as you watched him unbutton his top collar.
Then the second.
Third.
Unwittingly, your thoughts began to drift. Obliviously slipping into a heated dream envisioning how his strong hands would feel on your hips, your waist, gripping your supple skin when he presses you into his chest. The hot wisps of smoke and spice fogging your perception when he tilts his head down to yours, lips soft and slightly parted…
Sanji rolled his neck, popping the tension that released a low hiss from him, startling you out of the fantasy you unknowingly faded into before a sudden realisation rooted you to the spot— you were watching a man undress.
You were watching Sanji undress.
You only needed your book— a simple noise or shuffle would make your presence known, but you watched Sanji rake his fingers through his hair instead and toe off his shoes, standing in the middle of the room.
You weren’t all that sure about the layout of their quarters, considering you were usually respectful— but you could tell Sanji was closer to the beds and had a medium-sized dresser beside it with a sink and mirror in the corner. The room was spacious, bigger than the girl’s quarters, including a sofa and table in a sunken spot nestled in the middle of their room. It wasn’t as disorganised as you pictured. A lot of colourful knacks matching different aesthetics, but they all had a place that belonged to them. A piece of individuality.
You leaned back, hoping you went unnoticed by the man who often sang for your attention— and Nami’s and Robin’s, and any pretty girl he laid his eyes on. He was shameless, obscene. Yet there you stood, watching him unwind and strip ever so slowly exposing a physique you never expected from the ship’s cook.
The wavering sense of guilt drifted from your consciousness, fading into a vague afterthought with every second you spent gazing into the rift through the door as if it were luring you into depravity.
You wondered why you held your breath when his humming stopped.
Say something before—
His tired groan flushed warmth on your cheeks as you ducked behind the frame, shamefully peering into the room and watching him finish unbuttoning his blue striped shirt with deft fingers. Gingerly unclasping the buttons one by one until the shirt hung loosely on his shoulders. Over soft skin and hardened muscle.
It was almost elegant how he shifted his cigarette with his teeth to avoid the tiny trickles of ashes from falling on his suit, then gently placed his black jacket on the bed with grace you couldn’t fathom as he slid the shirt off his broad shoulders in the same motion.
Brightening the room, hitching your breath.
Sanji... he was beautiful.
In a gentle sort of way, with poise, strength and a style all his own. In an amorous way that kept you fixated on his toned back. His broad shoulders, smooth chest, and the cut of his well-defined abs. In the sense that had you admiring the grace of his movements and all the years he must have spent perfecting them.
You have watched him work while travelling with the strawhats these last few weeks. For no other reason than admiration, at the time, because you respected his power and the regency of his fighting style. But now, in the absence of stubborn rivalry and heart-eyed temptations— to glimpse the softness of his smile for yourself was like witnessing the shimmer of undisturbed water shining in the light of a spring day.
Peaceful.
A smile all his own, no snarky comment or perverted leer to taint the innocence or sincerity of his expression— you could only describe it as pretty.
It had you clutching the hem of your sundress, crouching down slightly when his lithe body sauntered from your sight. Was he preparing to take a shower? Did they have their own private facilities? Or is he about to walk out and catch you and your hidden decadence for unassuming men?
Your mind raced with questions, mixing with a perverted sort of fascination you dared not to admit, leering behind the door that hinged on the stillness of your presence.
Sanji turned back to your frame, humming another tune that was all too familiar when music played merrily on the deck. He sounded at ease, his voice carrying through the room softer than the smoke that swirled around him.
You bit back a smile, unintentionally slanting into the door, craving more than a slim peek into the room. deeper than a glance, especially when his hand inched towards his pants.
His movements were effortless— if it were not for the click of the buckle and the loud snap of leather, you would have missed how he unclasped his belt with one hand and yanked it fluidly with one rough tug out of the loops.
Fuck, that should not have been as attractive as it was, yet heat flushed anyway like it was coursing through your blood vessels, pumping your heart into a sensual beat out of its control. As much as you wanted to deny it, and turn your guilt away, it forced you to realise how difficult it was becoming to justify your presence— and even tougher to care about the intrusion of Sanji’s privacy.
He would have done the same, right? Though Sanji would have been less conspicuous and ten times more audacious, it was still innocent for you. For now.
“Where’s?” He mumbled before a soft aha came right after, a blue towel appearing in your field of vision. Hard muscles and a lean torso shifted through the gap, his back to you as he fiddled with something you could not see.
Your gaze lingered, slinking down every tight ridge and exposed skin you were blessed to witness.
There was a beauty to him you had not seen before, a tenderness to his features you only noticed now through the sliver of light. The colour on his cheeks, the tilt of his lips, the little curl of his eyebrow most people teased him for. There was something feminine about it— a spark of gentility he may have inherited from his mother, not that you knew much about that, just a softness he seemed to be blessed with.
It was admirable how he took excellent care of his things too. Rolling his belt, setting aside his cufflinks, buffing his shoes, even hanging his shirt over the chair to be later washed and pressed— you know he did after Brook thanked him for kindly ironing his shirts as well.
Perhaps there is more to him than silly sexual deviances. More than hazy eyes over full tits and round ass-cheeks. Sanji was diligent. Thoughtful. Tender.
Whereas you were the deviant leaning in a little too intently now, your perverted gaze following the veins on his forearms as he stretched them above his head, emitting low groans when his back pulled tautly and the muscles constricted tight.
You squirmed, the sounds of his groans and sighs making you clench your thighs as you watched him stretch, then admired himself in the mirror, rubbing his chin over the dark hairs you wished he wasn’t thinking of shaving. You liked the facial hair— almost as much as his ass when he leaned forward to splash some water on his face.
“Wait..” you murmured out loud without thinking. When did he snuff the cigarette?
Shame filled you instantly. Sanji’s ass distracted you for too long because now he was wiping his face with a clean blue towel, droplets of water rolling down his sturdy neck before they were selfishly wiped away just when you began imagining licking it off his skin.
You huffed, your feet planted to the floorboards, unable to speak louder than a tortured gasp while your thighs cinched to ease an unpleasant ache when he ran his hand through his hair again, with pretty blonde strands falling wet over his face. Over sweet eyes and high cheekbones.
It was exhilarating, intrusive, and extremely impolite, yet you could not turn away or apologise for the violation, too mesmerised by the physique usually clad in lavish suits. Only witnessing a faint glimmer of the man you had never known before— lurking behind the shadow of the door frame that separated you from him and spared him from your wandering stare.
There was a clink and a small flame before the smell of smoke wafted through the door once again. A thick cloud of vapour swirled around Sanji as he tilted his head back, eyes closed and basking in the serenity of the surrounding silence. Much like you wanted to before you became lustfully distracted, spoiling his privacy. Invading his space. That guilt you previously estranged yourself from inched back into your consciousness as Sanji sighed softly, looking every bit of the peace you intended for yourself earlier.
Your teeth latched on your bottom lip, nervousness churning, desire twisting into a sick delusion— your prying had to end. Even Sanji deserved the politeness of privacy.
So, you turned to leave, determined to ignore all you had seen, just for the floorboards to creak under your weight when your feet shuffled a little too loudly.
Your body stilled, you felt your pulse explode, and excuses and apologies were ready to spill from your trembling lips as you whipped your head back to the door— only to freeze when you caught him unbuttoning his pants.
He stood there, shirtless, hair damp and dark pants low on his hips as the zipper rang louder than the blood rushing in your head.
A smothered gasp escaped behind your hand, an inaudible “Oh god,” choking out beneath the pleasured grunts you heard through the wall. Sweat beaded down your temple, somehow feeling hot and sticky despite the chilling wind that ruffled your hair, tickling the flushed skin of your chest as your breathing quickened.
He was... touching himself— idly, lazily, using the heel of his palm to rub on his crotch as it steadily grew into a heavy bulge pressing into the teeth of the zipper.
“Fuck... ”
You squeaked, thankfully no louder than his own low grunt.
His teeth peaked through his smile, chuckling at something past your sight. His smile was sultry, his laugh airy. Thank God, no one could ever see the creeping blush up your neck over Sanji. Or feel the stickiness that marred your panties over the sight of his erection lewdly shaped beneath the fabric of his dark pants. The man who needed blood transfusions whenever he saw a pretty girl.
You would have felt humiliated if you weren’t so distracted. And breathless, lightheaded, and not to mention wet.
His ridiculousness was why you never noticed these things before, like the slenderness of his long fingers, or how his sharp jaw clenched to keep the cigarette in place— or the elegance of his strides across the room to place his shoes in the locker and hang his suit jacket before stepping into the sunken sofa.
A new light, a new Sanji to you— a voyeuristic secret you could never confess even through the stuttered breaths of your own arousal.
Shit, shit, shit!
He was right there, facing you— yet unaware of the glowering eyes and thundering pulse a few feet away from him. At least, that’s what you hoped as you watched him throw his head back over the couch and rub the back of his neck tiredly— teasing you with a view of his sculptured body and the heavy tent straining against the zip of his pants.
Fuck… he was a vision. Perhaps if he had a fraction of this elegance towards women, he would have them falling at his feet, begging for his attention— panting his name— raking your nails down his smooth chest.
Caressing him the way your fingers unconsciously mimicked on the door as you pressed yourself against it, tits hot and heavily squished into redwood, desperate for cool relief on your flushed skin while straining to see past the hem of his pants. He was so close, yet out of reach, as you watched his hand run down his neck, gliding it on his chest sensually before grasping the chubb that had him sighing lowly into his own touch.
“Just a little,” he groaned, rubbing on his cock lazily, as if he was convincing himself to indulge in his own pleasure, “before they come back.”
Oh god, oh god.
You weren’t in the right state of mind to be making decisions when every grumble and low hum of his vibrated straight between your thighs. Pooling slick in your panties that had you chewing on your bottom lip to sanctify some sanity when heated arousal rushed through your body.
“We have time,” he murmured, shifting in his seat to tug down his pants a little more, dark blonde tufts of hair peeking through, giving himself room to breathe with his underwear sliding just beneath it. His chubb was fat and still hidden, but you could see the tip twitch with every squeeze of his abdomen, teasing himself with the friction rubbing upon his dick. “uhh, yea, please.” He moaned a sweet sound seeped in desperation, his eyes closed and hips jerking, playing his fantasy out loud, his hands clenched by his sides. “Touch me, please, I’ll be good”, he whispered, smiling as he did, a flush colouring his cheeks. “Jus’ for you, yea? All you. Pretty girl, make me so hard.” He choked the last word, taking the cigarette out of his mouth for a steady breath of air before clenching it back in his teeth.
You were a mess.
You had to stop, turn away— breathe.
Sanji was begging, whining to be touched as he bucked his hips, using his abs to move his cock in his pants. Edging himself in a fantasy you only hoped to be a part of— but you could never dare to interfere. Your chest heaved, nipples taut and stroking against the door, gripping the handle so it stayed put even as your legs shook from the pressure to keep you upright.
Leave, you had to leave.
Move your feet, release the grip on the door and shift your weight to the side.
You manually counted your breaths, ripping your gaze from Sanji’s pleading stare.
Leave, just leave.
“Don't leave,” he whined, sitting upright. “at least let me watch you too, it’s only fair.”
It was as if a wave of cold, salty, ocean water dunked on you from the way you shrieked at the sound of your own name.
The door creaked, opening wide, betraying you by exposing the statue you had become and on the brink of collapsing from shame or even darting from his sights if you could have managed to work your knees.
Though his eyes were free from shock or disgust, he looked almost excited. Eager. The cigarette clenched in his wide grin; hair pushed back— you could see how his eyes glowed.
You gaped back at him, shock contorting into a dry wheeze you couldn’t control while his smile curled into a light chuckle, amused by your flustered expression.
“Don’t leave,” he repeated, the invitation sounding almost kind coming from his lips, a charming smile hidden behind an obscene request while tugging on his pants when his hard cock pressed too tightly in its confines. “Watch me, please.”
Sanji asked you not to leave.
Sanji said your name while asking you not to leave— not to leave watching him masturbate.
Your breath fell past your lips, frozen just outside the bedroom door, your blood still humming through your body. You were stuck. Mortified. No matter how many times you rephrased or repeated it in your head, you could not move or answer him in anything but a squeak. “Why?”
“Why not?” He countered, striding towards you, bulge still prominent. “You’ve been watching me the whole time. Why stop now?”
“No! I-I didn’t mean to—”
He nodded teasingly, “you liked it.” Sanji snickered when you snapped your mouth shut, your denial ruined by the searing shame choking your words as he stalked closer. “I liked it too,” he said lowly, “made me so hard.”
“I wasn’t—” you huffed, desperate to explain yourself despite the way your gaze flickered down at his chest with every pathetic stammer. “I just wanted- and then you- it’s only—”
Sanji laughed, waving his hand dismissively with his cigarette pinched between his fingers, twirling a ring of smoke between you. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. No harm in a little peeking,” his teeth flashed prettily, excitement shining at your bashful glances towards his shapely crotch. “If you want, maybe you can make it up to me. I’d hate to tell the rest of the crew what you did.”
“How?” You hated how timid you sounded, so you cleared your throat and stood straighter, only taking a small step back when he got closer, heart thundering and not at all bothered by his proximity. “It’s not like I’d let you watch me. I know what you’re like.”
“Do you?”
“Y-yes.”
His curly brow quirked up, amusement glossing his tone, “You don’t sound so sure, dearie.”
“I know you’ll just brag about me looking at you as if I’m some horny perv lurking around the boy’s room—”
“But you are,” he interjected, taking a slow drag of smoke and blowing it downwind. “I wasn’t the one caught lurking—”
“This time!” You bristled from the accusation, digging an accusatory finger at his firm, muscled chest, lingering a second too long before snapping. “You’re the one always butting in when the girls bathe. You’re the one trying to sneak a glance when we change! You’re the rude one!” You shouted, guilt clawing in your chest when all he did was smile. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, okay? But don’t make me out to be a pervert like you.”
Sanji rubbed his chest sadly, palming the exact spot you touched as if he were cherishing the contact with his big hand sprawled on his own skin. “Aw, darlin’,” he cooed with a cute pout on his lips, “do I make you uncomfortable?”
“No!” you shrieked a little too quickly, “I-I mean, yes! When you—”
“When I undress?”
“God!—”
“When I rub my cock?”
Your cheeks burned, a strangled whine slipping before you could clamp your teeth on your bottom lip, “That’s not! You—”
“I, what?” he purred, tilting his head down again, the simmering scent of smoke tickling your lips, “you can’t even look at me in the eye, but you had no trouble watching me stroke my cock to you. Did watching me make you wet, darlin’?”
The lie spilled in an undignified splutter, the word no holding too many syllables when you tried to say it.
His laughter chimed in your ears, a vibrant sound that brightened his face, and though he was laughing at you, a part of you softened from the sight. Mesmerised by it.
Pretty. Shimmering waters.
Somehow, it helped you release a steady breath, perhaps for the first time since you discovered him. Putting you at ease and in control.
Taking another step back, it was easier to blurt out your next half-lie. “I wasn’t watching you, I came for something.”
“Is there any chance that thing being me?”
“There is a better chance I slap you if you don’t back the fuck up.”
“Promise?” Sanji chuckled, a rosy blush tinting his cheeks. He invaded your space again, smoke and soap stroking your senses while his hands stayed respectfully by his sides. “Wow, dirty words sound so pretty when you say it.” He tilted his chin, inching closer, lips inviting, “Say fuck again.”
In your head, you slapped him. You pushed past his large, dominating frame, and went on your way to enjoy the bath you had planned and forget all that you have seen.
In reality? In the sensuous bubble of arousal he encased you in— the curse tickled his lips in a low murmur. Like a pre-emptive kiss he savoured by swiping his tongue on his bottom lip just so he could taste the words you teased as an insult.
“Again,” he pleaded, slanting you into the wooden railing. Gripping the beam. Almost chest to chest. Almost touching.
“Fuck,” you breathed, “you.”
“Please…again..”
“Sanji—”
“mmhh..”
“—fuck… you.”
“Shit.” his laugh strained into a desperate husk.
You could almost taste it. And you wanted to, to taste him that is, because you could tell he was cracking. In a singular moment, you turned the tides on him, taking the upper hand and the dominance he flexed exposing you. And like a switch, Sanji was pleading— his adams apple bobbed, lips parted, eyes blown. Not anything like the charm he exuded earlier. He sounded helpless. Distraught. Struggling against the invisible line you still held between you, yet honouring the boundary you have placed because he was still a gentleman.
You admired that.
Part of you— the wretched, drunk on lust part you shoved in a cage most nights to escape her fantasies— wished for him to push the waters and break the barrier. To feel the warmth of his skin pressed against yours. His hands, his lips.
His eyes shined instead. Hooded and sparkling a desire you mimicked with your slow breaths.
The birds squawked above, and Sanji finally found his voice.
“Can I masturbate to you?”
“Huh?”
“You’re so pretty, so tempting,” he said. Flexing his grip on the beam as if it were a lifeline. “I loved it when you were watching me. If you don’t want me to touch you, that’s fine. I won’t push you. But please, watch me. And I promise it will be just between us, okay?”
You squirmed. The words of rejection faded faster than they formed while you tried not to shrink under his pleading stare. You could feel your back pressed against the rail, digging into your skin as Sanji stood tall, shirtless and strong— caging you with his hand gripping the wooden beam right by your hip. Your bodies close, breaths hot and almost in sync, yours just a little shakier as you contemplated his invitation.
To watch him. Openly.
Why was it so daunting with his permission? With his lust blown eyes homed in on yours. Longing for something more than your stuttered breath to brush his skin.
Even in the open air, all you could feel was the heat raying from his bare chest and the twinge of smoke fanning around you. His arousal straining yet inches away from contact with your thigh he keeps achingly out of reach. It was just him, you, and the birds sitting on the mast, but it felt like you were locked in a steel cage with hundreds of spectators waiting on your next move.
You couldn’t hear them above the raging waves of your own thoughts. However, it was hard to stay objective when the currents that pulsed in your blood rushed between your thighs, dousing you with a tender ache that was becoming harder to ignore.
When you took too long to respond, his smile faded. “I’ll leave you be—”
“Sit back down,” you commanded, pushing on his chest and smiling when he shuddered beneath your palm.
Sanji grinned. He took your hand, your name spoken softer than any ballad as he whispered it into your skin and placed a kiss to accompany the warmth it spread. “Yes, my lady.”
In the depths of his eyes, you fell. The world blackened and you plunged deep into his domain. Into his desires.
Tethered only by the delicate hold he kept of your hand, you stepped into the room behind him, keeping your head up despite the nervousness that swirled within.
The anonymity you deluded yourself into believing snapped when the door closed behind you. Sanji was freakishly deceptive. Of course, he knew. Of course, he was teasing you. But the genuine plea that shined in his eyes made it impossible to walk away.
He looked so cute. So masculine and vulnerable at the same time. You wanted to see more of him it drove you right into the lustful fog that blanketed the space in between.
When he released your hand, you found yourself missing the contact of his large palm clasped in yours.
Sanji took his place back on the sofa, thighs spread, and lips parted in breathless excitement. But before anything else happened, he snuffed his bud in the ashtray in front of him. “You can walk away any time you want, sweetheart. No hard feelings or awkwardness, okay?”
Your shoulders visibly relaxed, unaware they were ever tense, but it made you smile anyway. Grateful for the reminder and the familiarity of his gentlemanly deference.
“I know,” you give him a genuine smile, “just between us, yeah?”
“Of course, darlin’.” His smile mirrored yours like the glimmering waters they are modelled after. Putting you at ease and in control once again when he affirms; “Just between us.”
With a deep breath— you cooled your expression, while his eyes shined as an air of apathy befell around you.
There was no turning back from this, and as you stood there, shielded from the cooling wind and the anchoring weight of the door you once hid behind, you realised that you truly didn’t want to.
You were inside.
You had his attention. You could watch him— Sanji, undress, and pleasure himself without anything obstructing your view or fixate on the shame twisting in your gut this time because he invited you in. Led you by the hand while you pretended the contact didn’t ignite anything.
That the warmth of his hand clasped in yours didn’t buckle your knees when you stepped over the threshold. Or that you could still feel the brush of his lips on your fingers.
You could continue pretending none of it mattered because this was just a game, and you were good at playing games. You could play this one with him too.
“Sit back,” you ordered after finally finding your voice, “—and show me what you were doing.”
“Fuck,” his hands fumbled.
His excitement forced you to chew on your bottom lip to surpass a snicker. It was endearing, but you held onto your indifference like a vice. You were looking forward to seeing him unravel.
“Keep—” he swallowed thickly. “Keep talking to me like that.”
“Like what?” you watched him palm his cock through his pants again, his erection growing harder with the new stimulation beneath his hand. “Tell you how I like to watch pretty boys touch themselves?”
“uhh-ha,” Sanji choked softly. “You think I’m pretty?”
You crossed your arms, smirking when his attention locked on to the swell of your breasts curving over the top of the dress, flashing delectable skin that had him swiping his tongue hungrily. “I think you’re a little pathetic,” you shrugged, “and predictable.”
His lip tilted. “I guess I just can’t help myself.”
“Hmm, well, you can have a little more decorum, though. Be a little less obvious too.”
He chuckled airily. “Not when I’m stroking my cock to you, darlin.”
Sanji shifted slightly, dragging his pants down lower and exposing more of the dark blonde trail that led past his waistband. Taunting you with a flash of skin you couldn’t turn away from. “Want to see how hard just looking at you makes me?”
A smile peeked through despite your best efforts. “I can see well enough from here.”
“That’s not what it looked like before,” he teased, cupping his balls through the fabric. “I thought you might fall through the door from how far you leaned in trying to sneak a peek.”
“I wasn’t—”
“I thought we were passed the bashful lies, sweetheart?”
You peered down at him through your lashes, ignoring the flush creeping up your neck from his sultry gaze.
Neither of you said another word for a minute as the room filled with Sanji’s breathy sighs. He was using his abs again, clenching them and bucking his hips to rub his cock against his pants. The friction making him grip the sofa. His lips part.
Your thighs cinched watching his reddened tip slip through when his pants slid further down. He looked wrecked already. Pearly dribbles of pre-cum smeared over his abs, trickling over the toned lines and ridges with every jerk of his hips, adding a lewd sheen to his skin as the rise and fall of his chest quickened.
Just standing there stumbled whines from his throat, you wondered about the sort of sounds he would make into your neck.
“Sanji”. His gaze snapped up. “Use your thumb for me,” you said softly. “Rub on your slit, I want to see your tip get sensitive.”
“Sh-it, like this?”
“Good boy.”
He moaned.
“Oh,” you grinned. “You like that, huh?”
Sanji nodded timidly, his blush darkening when his control slipped. He didn’t mean to confess such a kink, but the way you purred the praise sent shockwaves up his spine. Made his cock twitch, hand tremble.
“I like how you talk to me,” he confessed lowly. “Your voice, how it sounds when you say my name. How you lower your tone, or your breath catches when I groan— fuck. It drives me crazy.”
You hummed playfully, nibbling on your bottom lip when he canted his hips into his hand rhythmically. Now completely free from the confines of his slacks, his cock stayed caged in his fist, his shaft long and slender throbbing with a hue that matched his cheeks as pre-cum slicked loudly, coating his fingers in its sticky mixture while you stood there ignoring the wetness soaking your own panties.
“You look desperate already, Sanji-kun.” You teased lightly, hiding your hands behind your back so he couldn’t see you dig your nails into your palms. “Do you like being watched that much? I can see you leaking, your cock is so wet, and we’ve just started. Are you going to cum so soon? That’s sort of pathetic, don’t you think?”
“I can’t help it,” he groaned, damp blond strands falling over high cheekbones. “It’s like your eyes set me on fire. Igniting everything that sits under my skin, burning me through, it feels so good, it almost hurts. Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t imagine what would happen if you touched me. Your hands on my chest, your sweet lips on my neck. If you so much as leaned into me, letting me breathe in your scent, uhh-shit- I’m ashamed to admit I might cum untouched.” His throat constricted, seizing his words into a tortured rasp. “Darlin’, for my sake, for my sanity, you have to stay back and let me just watch. Let me look at you and imagine all the ways you’d set me alight with just a kiss.”
“Would you let me?” you asked breathlessly. “Kiss you, I mean.”
“Oh, in a heartbeat.”
“Even if you’d gush blood and pass out?” you couldn’t help the giggle.
“Even if it were my last,” Sanji groaned desperately. “To kiss you would be the end of me, and I would pray they’d bring me back so I can do it again.”
Your chest tightened hearing the affection hidden beneath his moans.
There were deep crescent shapes in your palms now, the skin reddened and pinched from your efforts to maintain even an ounce of control, but the sting paled in comparison to the drum of your heartbeat slamming against your ribs. Rattling the bars of your sanity the longer you stood in his presence.
Sanji looked at you as if— as if he would never see the light again.
With awe, longing, and something close to anguish when the light shines further away from him. As something beyond his reach yet to be cherished and marvelled at all the same. To be revered. Desired. Loved but never possessed because it wasn’t his place to assert his will, but to bask in the warmth the light spread.
It was intoxicating, and he was unravelling faster than you anticipated.
You could tell from how he thumbed the thin veins forking along his length, how pre-cum spilled over his fingers, pooling at the base of his cock and how his chest heaved that he was chasing a fast-approaching release that had him stuttering your name past his lips— involuntarily rising heat all the way to the tips of your ears.
Sanji was too erratic. Too frenetic.
Moaning and thrusting and rolling his wrist over and over his shaft so fast, it was a wonder he remained conscious. He looked unbalanced. A sort of frantic that reminded you of all the times he over-excited himself and exploded into a fit leaving him comatose and bloodied.
You had to slow him down, to set the pace for now only to have him moan in a melody of salacious cries later on, and then bend him into a rhythm only your pulse can match.
At your mercy, your control.
In a way that wouldn’t end with the rest of the crew returning to find Sanji dead on the floor seeped in his own cum and blood. This is exactly how this was heading if you let him continue down this path.
Whining incessantly while fucking his tight fist in faster strokes, his teary gaze seared straight into your core, almost certain you could feel the warmth of his touch from across the room as you fought the urge to squirm and find the power to bark:
“Stop.”
The command shot straight through him. Snapping him at attention like a stinging whip on his back.
His jaw ticked. Veins pulsed.
Sanji’s rigid composure would have been comical if his erection hadn’t slapped against his stomach. Angry red and swollen with need, it looked almost painful, especially with the way his brows twisted miserably as he panted heavily glowing with sweat and desperation.
“Breathe.”
When he inhaled a wheezing, sharp breath— you shook your head, instructing him to go slower. Calmer. Until his shoulders laxed and his throat swallowed a decent gulp. “Good boy, just breathe for me.”
Sanji nodded meekly, even managing a smile as he clenched and unclenched his hands on his knees, wiping off the gooey, sordid evidence of his arousal in quiet shame.
You observed him critically, assessing his mental and physical state and deeming him a little untethered. As if he were floating, glassy-eyed and adrift in his own mind until enough deep breaths grounded him back to your focus. You watched him come to grips with things— his attention shifting to his pants bunched at his thighs, to his cock standing full mast, to the hot air suffocating the room.
Sanji sighed wistfully, threading his trembling hand through his sweaty bangs and out of his face, a deep blush colouring his cheeks.
“Feeling better?” you asked gently. “I just can’t have you passing out on me before things really get started.”
It took him a moment to find his voice again. His throat was dry despite the wetness clinging to his skin.
“Sorry. I’m just— I’m so hard,” he chuckled weakly. “Can’t, uhh— I can’t imagine what you might think of me right now. How ridiculous and pathetic I might look being so— so enamoured by you.”
You shrugged to lighten the mood. “I always assumed you were a two-minute man, but I won’t tell anyone.”
The laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes as he flexed his fists, actively avoiding the erection pulsing against his stomach, or the truth of his blinding lust and the dizzying spell it held over him.
“I thought I could— I thought I had more control, like when we were on the deck.” Sanji said sullenly, vaguely aware of the festering insecurities. “It was exciting being the one to tease you, to look down at a beautiful woman like you and make her flustered. Being so close to you was- it was so hot, electric even— but having you watch me right now in that commanding tone is ten times more intense. It’s addicting— it’s also humiliating and thrilling all at once. I feel so contorted and … I’m embarrassed to admit how far I’m willing to let you break me”. He confessed shyly.
“Sanji…”
“But that somehow turns me on even more. It’s just… you’re so beautiful”. Sanji whispered gravelly, “It’s just not fair what that does to me.”
“It’s okay,” you released your own shaky inhibitions with a slow exhale and offered a tilted smile, warmth tickling your cheeks upon his conviction. “I like seeing you this way. It was fun on the deck, how dominating you were teasing me. But right now, your eyes shine and it’s really flattering.” You smirked playfully, “Pretty boys like you look best when they’re sweaty and desperate.”
Sanji’s blush was much more obvious than yours, his fair complexion making every inner thought radiate through his skin, but he stayed quiet for a few seconds, his smile strained.
“Be honest with me. If-if I hadn’t said anything, would you have walked away without a word afterwards?”
You thought about it for a moment, stunning him with your impassive gaze towards his raw vulnerability.
There was a touch of wistfulness in it— in the tenderness of his question making it clear that your answer would mean more to him than simply feeding his ego— he needed to feel desirable, worthy— so with a wicked idea, you took those steps forward to bridge the gap between you and relished when his chest hitched visibly as you stood planted between his open thighs.
You pulled him back from the edge, only so you could push him down yourself.
You were so close he could reach out and touch you now if he wanted, his leg could press against yours. His arm could brush your thigh and call it an accident, or he could even brazenly drag you into his lap to finally feel relief on his aching cock. It wouldn’t even take much strength on his part, to grab you by the arm and yank you into his awaiting heat. Your body warm and pressed against his. Flushed and tight.
But as you peered down at him— his lashes wet, face burning, pre cum glistening. Hands stilted on his knees as he inhaled your scent so deep it filled his chest— you know Sanji would never cross that line, not without permission.
You felt powerful in that fact. In the knowledge that you could break a man as powerful as him with a caress, a word. A kiss.
“Yes. I would have walked away,” you confessed firmly. When his expression fell, you bent down at the waist, the words brushing on his lips. “But I would have paid extra close attention to you.”
His mouth fell open, your name almost coherent in the pitiful whimper that escaped disguised as a breath. Yet he still managed to smile despite the blood rushing to his head. “Sweet God, you’re cruel.”
“And you’re shaking.”
He was.
Already unsteady and trembling to keep himself upright. To stay conscious and not let his vision completely glaze over as white spots danced across your face, sparkling you in a tantalising light he fought to keep in his sights even if it muffled his other senses when your scent enveloped him too. Erotically feminine and something so distinctly you his pulse ticked beneath his jaw.
“More, please..”
“mhmm— you have to open your eyes and look at me, Sanji-kun. I might get sad and walk away if you don’t.”
When he finally opened them, you were blessed by the sight of shimmering tears glossing wide, love filled pupils.
“y’know…” you sighed, fighting the warmth spreading between your thighs, “watching you made me realise something.”
“What?”
“That there are layers to you, and I liked discovering them.” The noise he made resembled a strangled animal when you brushed your thumb over his soft cheek. “Your patience, tenderness, diligence, I never paid it any special attention until today. How you take care of your things, how gentle your hands are— I never thought you would be so…” you swiped your tongue upon his bottom lip. “Beautiful.”
“Fuck..” his eyes rolled. A full body shudder raked down his back this time, prickling every fibre etched in his being and ultimately triggering sensitive blood vessels in his nose to pop suddenly as spurts of cum pre-emptively dribbled out of his tip.
You giggled. “Are you okay, Sanji-kun?”
you watched him shake his head inaudibly, hips humping the air for much needed relief as the blood trickled down his nose in slow drips. Almost mimicking how his cock drooled obscenely.
He wouldn’t last much longer like this. Every muscle, nerve and vein burned to keep himself tethered to the seat. “More, I beg you. T-talk to me more, ‘m so close..”
His plea sounded hoarse even to his own ears, but it made you smile all the same.
“I think,” you trailed off, flickering your eyes to his lips, then wiping off the blood gently. “I would have paid attention to your laugh.”
That sobered him a little bit, the confusion furrowed his brows.
“You looked at ease, even though you were teasing me. I liked hearing you hum, chuckle, seeing you smile. You looked relaxed. There was something attractive about it, I can’t quite explain how much I enjoyed seeing that, even before you unzipped your pants. I think I was a little enamoured by you.”
His expression glowed. “R-really?”
You nodded earnestly. “You’re beautiful, Sanji. That’s why I was watching you, why I had to walk away cause it made me feel guilty to see you so … unguarded.”
“I—”
“Do me a favour,” you cupped his jaw with a warm palm, “don’t pass out.”
Before he could reply, Sanji tasted heaven.
It was the slightest touch on his lips, barely a kiss, hardly a brushstroke, but it was enough to hear something akin to an angel’s song as he was bathed in a white light.
Or …
His eyes rolled so far back, his vision became discoloured, and the sound he heard was a high-pitch whine that tore through his own throat and reverberated in the room.
“On your knees.”
Sanji collapsed, gasping and quaking on his hands and knees as if he’d been fighting for his life. Which, in a way, he really was. Fighting to keep some blood in his system that hadn’t already poured into his cock or down his nose when the heat coiling in his belly burned that much hotter from your kiss. Scorching him, blistering the goosebumps that prickled along his flesh making him hypersensitive and numb all at once— numb to the sounds outside this room, hypersensitive to your every move. And if anyone were to find him like this— no, he didn’t care. You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from, even if it ripped him apart, and he’d be damned if anyone came to ruin it now.
Instead, he chewed on his bottom lip, savouring the taste of you, of your sweet gloss and plump lips and dizzying scent— but when he reached to fist his cock to the memory of you pressed against him— Sanji couldn’t stop himself from keening loudly when your foot pushed his hand away.
“I didn’t say you could touch yourself, cutie’.”
“What can I do?” Sanji quivered up at you pleadingly. “I’ll do anything, please. Oh please, please tell me what to do for you, darlin’.”
“Take off my shoes.”
You lifted your right leg for him, offering up your foot clad in the strappy sandal and watched him inhale sharply through his nose.
“I—” his adams apple bobbed as he sat back on his heels, “I can touch you?”
This was a test, a prank. You were only playing with him. the kiss was enough to kill him, and your smile was too sinful to be sincere, but he prayed, nonetheless. Pleaded and hoped and then choked on his own spit when you nodded firmly.
“Yes, but only my legs. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you something better.”
Sanji nodded heartily, murmuring his thanks and gratitude for the opportunity presented to him, his voice carrying a thick layer of emotion he didn’t have the sense to evaluate for this blessing. Only knowing the relief he felt when your bare skin pressed against his, whispering the praises into the cleft of your ankle— his lips brushed a chaste kiss, a sweet touch that could only be seeped with devotion.
You wouldn’t have heard it at all if it weren’t breathed into your skin, ardently sincere like the last prayer whispered by the helpless. So, in an act of mercy, you brushed his hair back and tilted his head up towards you, holding him delicately as if he’d shatter by your hands. Which you were fully capable of doing— but you presented him the tenderness of your smile instead, verbalising your consent and letting it flow soothingly between you.
He took a few seconds to stabilise himself, though even with your permission, Sanji’s touch felt shaky against your skin as if he was unsure about your words or his own strength to maintain consciousness, but he did anyway. Willed himself with the strength to harden his spine and indulge in his deepest desires. Just this once, while you still graced him with it.
His hands were warm, soft, and gentle. Everything like the man they belonged to as Sanji stroked your leg sensually, starting from your knee all the way down to your ankle. His long fingers pressing and squeezing the supple skin beneath his palms, curving along your plump flesh pulling quiet sighs you didn’t bother to hide that he drank in greedily, relishing in your pleasure as if it was pierced straight into his vein.
“y’so beautiful,” Sanji groaned into your leg. “I can’t believe—” he shook his head, ridding himself of the doubt that plagued him before dragging his lips along your calf as his fingers fiddled with the strap that wrapped around you. Achingly slow and deliberately unhurried. “You’re so soft, it’s incredible. Even your legs are gorgeous.” he spoke as if thorns were scraping his throat, every word coming out in a low rasp filled with need. “Every part of you sets me on edge,” he continued, his kisses following where the straps once curled, “— as if I’m holding on by my fingertips, and the only thing that keeps me from breaking— from plummeting and colliding into the ground is you.” He slipped your shoe off and placed it gently to the side, your foot now bare, then moved on to the other leg and gave it the exact same treatment. “But… its also like you’re waiting for me at the bottom, ready to unearth me and giggle as you dust off the dirt from my shattered bones.”
You feel his kiss on your ankle again, a breathy sigh tickling your flesh as you swallowed your nerves. “What if I am? I like you beneath me.”
“I don’t mind,” he replied easily. He held you up carefully, his grip firm yet tender as he kneaded the taut muscle, every caress and gentle stroke pooling desire deep in your core. “If it were anyone else, I would have done what I usually do by making a fool of myself as soon as the rest of the crew left.” The heat of his stare was almost unnerving. “But it was you, and I never felt more compelled to fall.”
Fuck.
You lost your resolve, and your expression softened with a laugh that fluttered out like the butterflies tickling your chest. “You shouldn’t look so attractive with your cock so wet, Sanji-kun. It’s unfair, and hard to remain impassive when you look so beautiful desperate for me.”
“I’m sorry, darlin’.” He laid his cheek against your leg, exhaustion weighing him. “We can stop”, he offered sincerely. This momentary pause gave him the clarity he needed, the fog inhibiting his senses cleared enough to think. Though his cock still ached, there was a layer of calm settling too. Your comfort important to him above all else. “You’ve done more than enough for me,” Sanji pressed another kiss to your knee, your shoe accompanying its twin on the floor, “more than I could have hoped for already. It won’t take much for me to finish on my own. You were wonderful, darlin'.”
“You would stop, just like that?”
“Of course,” Sanji affirmed candidly, his eyes kind. “Like I said, I would do anything for you. My pleasure is secondary.”
The words hung in the air, but your plan was still in motion.
“Tell me, then. What would happen if I touched right…here.”
“Ahh-uhh!”
“Does it hurt?” you cooed sickeningly sweet. “hmm, from your expression it looks like you’re enjoying it a little too much.”
He bobbed his head frantically, blonde hair flailing with the movement, your devious plan wrecking him immediately. “Ye-es, in the-uhh best way, angel. Fu-uuck, I-I can’t believe you’re tou-ching me like this.”
“Yeah? y’like it that much?” you laughed airily. “Your balls feel soft on my foot, all rounded and heavy.” Lifting your leg up higher, you rubbed your leg on his length, sliding it up and down, skin to skin, until those salacious moans spilt from his mouth in loud cries. “wow, it’s’warm and wet from all the pre you were leaking earlier, too. How gross.”
“Oh-oh, god, pl-ease, sweet darlin’. Fuck-ngh!”
You hummed delightedly, watching his cheeks blossom into another sweet blush, his eyes glazing over immediately as Sanji shuddered and keened beneath you with the familiar scent of desperation clouding the room in a thicker layer. A potent, charged atmosphere that had you panting as you watched Sanji unravel once again in the short time you had him under your command— your plan a success.
“You’re dripping all over again.” you teased with another slow drag of your foot, his balls resting on top while his shaft twitched upon your shin. “Look at how your pretty cock leaks! All red and cute! So much cum, I’m surprised you haven’t squirted.”
“ohh-ahh, sw-sweetheart don’t be me-eean!”
“I’m not!” you insisted through unfiltered giggles. “Look at you, humping my leg! Gettin’ yourself all worked up from just touching me, you’re so cute, Sanji-kun.” Your laughter seized as you clicked your tongue, faux disgust colouring your tone as you rolled your foot over his long shaft, collecting the stringy wetness that drooled from his tip on your toes. “Tsk, your cock is makin’ a dirty mess all over my leg, though. Could you be anymore pathetic?”
“’m so’rry,” he squirmed. “Ca-an I clean it uhh-up?”
You leered down at him, “only if you use your mouth, pretty.”
Sanji licked long strokes along your leg, collecting the sticky essence that spit from his tip the harder he rolled his hips. Swallowing his own dirty arousal while fervently grinding his cock along the curve of your leg with no sense or rhythm, only following the lust you stoked within him, stumbling moans, hitching his whines. Begging and squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling, but you saw them anyway.
You saw everything. How his chest concaved with every breath he took, how his balls pulled tight on your foot, how deeply and utterly he was at your mercy.
It filled you with pride. Along with a dark sense of satisfaction you couldn’t quite place to have Black-leg Sanji— bounty over a billion berries, the left wing of the future king of the pirates— whinging and coating your skin with his arousal.
And you had one more trick up your sleeve. One that could possibly kill him, but you wanted to push the boundaries.
See how far you could bend him before he snapped.
“You can’t cum yet,” you sang cheerily, weaving your fingers through his hair again. “You have to be good for me, okay?”
“Fuu-uk, ‘m tryin’!” Sanji cried out, his last threads of control almost slipping from his grasp, stitch by stitch, seam by seam, but he gripped them tighter in his fists, and fiercely blinked away the fog misting his vision just to have the chance to gaze upon your smile for a little while longer. “I wo-on’t, jus’ for you. Cause you-you asked.”
“Good boy. Now, tell me you like it.” you gave his hair a firm tug, directing focus to his bucking hips. “Tell me how much your cock aches, how hard it is, how much you love touching me.”
Sanji shuddered, another frantic nod dizzying his vision as he jerked his hips harder. “I do! So-so much”, he hiccupped. “I lo- ohhh, uhh, yes!— I love you touch-in’ me. Teasin’ me, makin’ a mess of me-eee— ahh, shit! Tou-uch me, please, fuck! Please, I love it— love your eyes, your voice, your touch. I’ll die, ohh, god-oh god, lemme jus’ die like this, it’s oka-ay if it’s you. For you, all you, fuck-fuck!”
“I think you deserve your reward now, Sanji-kun.”
Sanji snapped his head up, his hips stilting. “This-this isn’t the reward?” how could it not be? He was touching you, kissing your body, smearing his cock all over your pretty leg. What could be better than this?
You pulled back from him, and slowly, painfully slow, deathly slow, you lifted the hem of your dress.
He first saw your thighs, thick and supple, making him swipe his tongue along his bottom lip just imagining the taste of your sweat, of the grooves of your cellulite.
your dress lifted higher, and his hands flexed, picturing squeezing on the squishy flesh and feeling it fill his palms and pudge out against his fingers where he couldn't quite grasp.
This was the reward, yes? Pretty, coloured thick thighs he’d be happy to touch, to worship with hips he could sink his teeth into, full and curved and beautifully rounded.
But your hand lifted higher. Higher. Until he ascended so high he heard the angel’s song again, welcoming him to paradise.
“Sanji, you’re shaking an’ whining loudly.”
Was he?
“Wipe the blood first… good boy. Come here, it’s’okay,” you tugged him closer, his face inches away from your panties. “You’ve been so good, I thought you might like to ...” your cheeks burned, “To touch.”
He could smell it now, the wetness that made your thighs clench earlier. That had you sighing and chewing on your bottom lip as he chased his own pleasure. The arousal that allowed him this far with you, coating your pink panties and, fuuck.
You-your panties… they— they had the cutest bow on it. right above your mound and the lewd wet patch he ached to… “Did-did you say touch?”
You nodded, tugging him closer by his hair. “I won’t take off my panties, but I don’t see why you can’t use them to get yourself off, just this once. It’s what you always wanted, right?”
What he always wanted.
“Are… are you sure?”
What he always wanted and prayed and dreamed and lusted after— but he had to make sure. To know this is what you wanted. Sanji couldn’t— he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if it weren’t your desire too. Even if he was seeing double and the room tilted on its axis or his blood pooled on the floorboards more than his own body, he wouldn’t be able to stand again without hearing you say—
“Sanji-kun, touch me.”
You tugged him closer, cooing your affirmations, stroking his hair. Going slow and speaking so softly, he wondered if you were talking to him at all.
“It’s okay,” you purred, your eyes gentle. “You can use me to cum. I want to see you cum for me.”
Use you?
His brows knitted. That didn’t sound right.
Use.
Use.
Use?
That word felt wrong, dirty. Even in his inebriated, lust-filled fog, Sanji knew that it wasn’t right. That it was tactless. That you deserved better than that.
“I don’t— I don’t want to ever use you.” he husked. Just saying the word made his stomach churn, and though his limbs felt heavy, he lifted himself a little taller on his knees. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”
Sanji’s sudden coherency surprised you when he was trembling moments before, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone, and you could only stare— awed, heated and incredibly wrecked with the emotions he stirred. Yet rather than replying, your grip on him tightened, a challenge tilting your brow, waiting to see what move he’d make with the offer you raised.
“Okay… oh-okay, ‘m gonna touch you now, darlin’.”
With all the strength he could muster, Sanji pushed forward and inhaled deeply, pressing his nose in your crotch, and filling his lungs until the only air that could possibly flow through him was you. “Ohh, fuck.” Sanji groaned, the sound vibrating on your most intimate parts, pulling deep from his throat, and sounding nothing short of sinful that had you keening lowly in response.
“Oh, fuck- oh fuck, darlin’ you’re a dream.” He murmured into your cunt, his words bleeding back to babble as he breathed in long and deep. It was intoxicating, the heady scent of your pussy. Driving him mad, sick, practically delirious by the slick that marred your panties, creating the most dazzling patch of arousal right in the middle. Oh fuck, his tongue immediately began lapping at the damp fabric caging your plump lips. “Fuck!”
You choked on a moan. “Is that all you can say?”
Sanji shook his head, his hands finding your full-figured hips and squeezing, eliciting a low mewl with the fat filling his palms and bulging out at the sides just how he pictured it. “Fuck!” he grunted again into your cunt; his mouth muffled but his shouts reverberated from the intensity that shook him at the core. “Fuck-fuck!”
You huffed out a chuckle. “Sweetie, if it’s too much for you—”
He couldn’t hear you. Sanji held you tighter, drew you closer into his open mouth, his jaw slack, muscles taut, cock aching— but it was a sensation he could ignore while his tongue messaged and rolled and lapped at your clothed cunt. Dragging along your labia over and over until it wettened enough to slip his tongue down the seam of your pussy, spreading it to finally circle your pulsing clit and suck, the fabric damp with a lewd mixture of slick and saliva as your whimpers rang loud.
“Fu-uhh, shit, you taste so goo’ fo’me”, his words were gruff, his mind addled— Sanji couldn’t focus past your cunt, your scent, not when it wafted through him and settled deep in his abdomen— twisting lust straight down to his neglected cock drooling on the floor.
“Sa-anji! Fuck, hmm, keep-keep going!”
He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips and shoving you harder into his mouth. “Su’ch a pretty cunt, shit-fuck.” He held you firmly, his strength unrelenting even as you swayed, letting you writhe on his face. “Darlin’, sweet girl, sweet sweet cunt, uhh, y’make my cock hurt so-so much. Make me so hard, so dizzy. All you, shit-shit. Uhh-uhh, s’wet fo’me. Tha’ank you. thank y-you, than-k you.”
You moaned for him, and the sound of it tingled his spine, acutely aware of the sharp tugging on his scalp, but Sanji paid the rest of it no mind. He was touching you, licking your pussy through your pretty panties, inhaling your arousal, making you moan.
Making you cry his name, making you wet.
And he answered it all with low hums and deep grunts of praises, thanking you fiercely, his devotion syphoning from every breath as if you poured into him yourself.
Sanji flickered his tongue on your clit, alternating between soft and hard strokes that had you grinding your hips on his tongue, and he revelled in it while your pussy rewarded him by staining your panties with sticky fluids he drank greedily. Devouring your cunt with his whole face, bumping his nose into your clit, his chin wet, cheeks flushed.
“Imma cum!” you tried to warn him, to stave off the flutter in your belly and not embarrass yourself by cumming so soon, but his touch, his tongue— even with the panties in the way it only added to the friction. To the burn flooding over your body from the moment you discovered him. You squirmed, rocked, and sighed as the coil tightened in your belly— a sensation so intense you attempted to cinch your thighs, but Sanji pinched your hips, pulling you apart for him, ignoring your pleas.
Holding you closer, grunting praises, flattening his tongue, pressing hard until you came with a loud cry.
“Su’ch a goo’girl, so good for me. that’s it, lemme clean that up for you, darlin’.”
Sanji lapped at your cunt, your panties ruined and almost dripping from your release that he swallowed as best he could before you ripped him off with a harsh tug.
“Stand,” you panted harshly. Your balance was shoddy, but you stood firm, yanking the man to his full height, and wrapped your fist around his cock. Gently tugging on his flushed sex in quick strokes. “Cum for me.”
Sanji curled into your touch, white-hot and just barely keeping himself standing with a hard grip on your hips— he slumped into your chest, fucking into your hand chaotically. “I-I didn’t— y-you. Uhh, fuck!”
“What is it?”
Tears stung his waterline. “I di-idn’t clean u-uhh, ahh, mmm, I wanted— wanted to clean you u-uhp.” He cried out, fidgeting in your grasp, his cock overly sensitive and shamefully drooling all over your wrist. He wanted to be strong, to make you cum and slump on his chest, but Sanji could hardly keep his eyes open at this point. He felt airy, foggy, every sensation felt like it was dolled up to ten and he couldn’t find the strength to keep standing.
And it hurt, fuck, his cock hurt. His balls hurt, his chest hurt, breathing hurt— it ended up as short gasps and high-pitch whines into your neck until you brushed your thumb over his slit and Sanji saw stars.
“ahh! Im-imma cum! ‘mma cu-uuh, fuck-fuck!”
“It’s okay, sweet boy,” you jerked him firmly with one hand and pulled down the bow of your panties, exposing your plump mound. “Cum right here, I wan’ feel you cum on me.” you slipped his tip between your pussy lips, a low, wet, squelching noise added to his moans now.
To yours and the raunchy sounds that swirled in between.
“Sweet-sweetheart!” Sanji squeaked, bucking his hips widely, your pussy smearing wet kisses all over his cock. Hot and squishy and so so delicious his orgasm crashed through him like a tidal wave, surging and pulsing and dousing him with a pleasure that raked a voiceless cry— splatting his cum in your panties and slathering your slit with gooey, icky glops of his release. Your panties filled with both stains of arousal.
“Good boy.” your kisses feathered over his rapid pulse, the praises almost as gentle as your lips. “Such a good boy, shh. I got you, hun.”
Sanji held you close, shivering through his climax, pitifully cowering his face into the warm crook of your neck until his cries settled into cute whimpers and the spots misting the corners blended into colours he could actually see.
“Shh, you did so well, cutie.” You stroked his back, unbothered by the sweat clinging to his skin or the sticky, hot mush that was caged to your cunt. the latter tingling the nerves of your spine in an addictive way. “That felt amazing.”
“Ye-yea?”
“Yes, hun.”
There were a few seconds of heavy breathing, then shuffling of clothes, and suddenly, Sanji was seated back on the sofa, but the comforting weight of your plush body sat on top of him too. He liked it, it was grounding. Safe.
Sanji held you tight, his strong arms locking you in place over his lap. Your bodies hot and tempering down ever so slowly in each other’s embrace.
There’s was a gentle hum in the room, or maybe it was your voice, tenderly washing over him as Sanji came to grips with his body again. With the heat, the sweat and throb of arousal cooling into a low ebb in his abdomen. With the reality that you both stood in and your roles in it. But he couldn’t bring himself to care of anything else but you curling in his lap.
You smelt nice, you played with his hair and hummed in his ear, and you felt so… so good in his arms.
“Thank you.” he croaked after a while. Feeling satiated and satisfied sinking into your embrace, Sanji could do nothing else but whisper his thanks into your lips over and over, his kiss filled with all the gratitude of an answered prayer. “Thank you for this, for holding me. I don’t know when it got so out of hand.”
You smirked, patting his chest playfully, hoping he did not notice how your heart soared as you attempted to joke. “probably as soon as I agreed to this little game.”
This time, Sanji’s smile beaned wide, pretty teeth shining bright. “I just can’t help myself, darlin.” he nuzzled into your cheek, savouring the intimacy. “I told you what would happen if you got too close.”
You laughed softly, “I suppose I was warned.” You shifted in his lap, straddling him now instead with the gooey mixture flushed hot in your panties, squishing against your achy clit, it made you breathless. Eager. “If you’re a good boy—”
His stomach flipped excitedly.
“—Maybe we’ll play again.”
Sanji shuddered, his smile waning as his lips parted cutely. “Don’t tease me. I—”
“SANJI! OI! I GOT THIS BIG FISH! IT HAS TWO HEADS CAN WE EAT IT?!”
“Oi, Shitty-brow! I found this buried sword, lemme cut you with it!”
You stifled the laughter behind your hand, the cutest frown scrunching his face from their untimely interruption. Even so, you began moving to crawl off his lap before the other straw hats walked in with their treasures, but Sanji gripped your wrist, his pleading stare shooting familiar sparks in your core.
“Promise we’ll do this again?”
You smiled warmly, leaning in for a kiss only to swipe your tongue upon his bottom lip, “Yes, and it will stay just between us.”
Sanji blushed, savouring the taste of you on his own tongue. “Yea, of course. Just between us, darlin’.”
This time, you stood up to leave, but not without one final look over your shoulder, “just like your cum soaking my panties right now.”
You quickly slipped out of the room before anyone could notice, twirling your shoe as the sound of a heavy thud crashed behind you and the boys shouts followed shortly after.
“WOW! So much blood! Was there a fight?! Are they still here?! I wanna fight!”
“LUFFY N-NO THAT—”
“EW SHITTY BROW! WAKE UP AND CLEAN THIS SHIT YOU PERV—”
// - tysm for the support! hopefully the tags will hold up this time:333 please do not repost or translate my stories.
More Posts from Sirxaibs and Others
Masterlist~~
𓇢𓆸☾☼ Keigo Takami was dangerously close to losing control. He sat on the edge of the rooftop, wings sprawled lazily behind him, golden eyes scanning the city below without truly seeing it. Patrol had ended an hour ago, but he hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken off into the sky. Instead, he let the silence swallow him whole while the weight in his chest pulsed with every beat of his heart.
He was thinking about you again. Not just thinking. Obsessing. Wanting. Craving.
It wasn’t new not really. You had been his best friend for years now. The only person who truly saw him for who he was beneath the feathers, beneath the smiles and playful banter. You weren’t fooled by his smirks or his cocky remarks.
And he wanted you in every way a man could want someone.
He pressed his fingers to his lips, as if he could trap the thoughts there, keep them from spilling out. But they always found their way back in. Memories of your laugh, your hand brushing his, the way you leaned into him when you were tired. The way you looked at him like you didn’t expect anything more than what he was already giving.
But God, he wanted to give you more.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, wings twitching behind him. “You have no idea,” he muttered to himself.
No idea how he thought about you when he showered, when he lay awake in bed, when he flew above the city. How the ache wasn’t just in his chest but deep, carnal, physical. You’d never touched him like that not even close but his body remembered every innocent brush, every accidental graze of your fingers, every look that lingered a second too long.
He remembered the last time you hugged him. Fully wrapped your arms around him without hesitation.
You were warm. So warm, it branded him. And he wanted to be selfish. Just once.
He wanted to kiss you. Hold you. Lay you down and worship you with every part of himself. He wanted to hear you moan his name like a plea, like he was the only thing in your world that mattered.
His fists clenched.
But he couldn’t. Because he was your best friend. And you trusted him. He’d never risk that. But lately… it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to act like his thoughts didn’t spiral when you smiled at him, when you laughed and leaned your head back like the world couldn’t touch you. Like he was safe in your orbit.
“Fuck,” he whispered to the empty air.
His wings flared slightly behind him, agitated. He was needy pathetically so and it rattled him. You. His best friend and the woman he couldn’t stop imagining underneath him, moaning his name like a prayer.
He exhaled a shaky breath, one hand dragging down his face. His fingers curled tightly in his hair, jaw clenched. It had started innocently enough thinking about your laugh, the way you teased him, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you loved. But lately, that innocent warmth had twisted, melted into something far darker.
Now all he could think about was how soft your lips would feel against his. How your body would arch into his if he finally let himself touch you the way he needed to. Keigo, who wanted to touch the curve of your waist, bury his face in your neck, trace his fingers down your thighs and hear you gasp for him. Keigo, who thought about your lips parting for him, your nails digging into his back, your breath hot against his ear.
He could already feel your thighs wrapped around him in his imagination, could already hear the sounds you’d make soft, desperate, so unlike the friend you were. And he wanted it more than he wanted anything else.
His cock was already hard, straining against the tightness of his pants, and he fucking hated how easy it was to get this way just thinking about you. It didn’t take much just the memory of your legs crossed during a casual conversation, the way your shirt would ride up when you stretched, revealing the tempting curve of your waist.
He leaned back against the cool concrete of the rooftop wall, letting his head fall back with a low groan. “Goddamn it…”
He’d been so careful. So respectful. Always the charming best friend who gave you space, never said too much, never let his touches linger for too long. But he was starving now.
Keigo wanted to taste every inch of you.
He imagined it pulling you onto his lap, letting his hands explore everything he wasn’t allowed to touch. Your thighs spread for him, your breathy moans in his ear as he whispered filthy things you never thought he’d say.
“You don’t know what you do to me… how long I’ve wanted this.”
He’d take his time with you slow, worshipful, but dripping in hunger. He’d kiss down your neck, between your breasts, over your stomach, and lower, until your thighs trembled around his head. He wanted to ruin you with his mouth, over and over, until your voice was hoarse from crying out for him.
His hips shifted as he ground into his palm, teeth gritted. This wasn’t just some passing fantasy. This was a need buried in the deepest parts of him hot, relentless, consuming.
the worst part… You had no idea. You still called him your best friend. Still crashed at his place when you were too tired to go home. Still walked around in those shorts, those oversized shirts with no bra underneath, curling up beside him on the couch like it was nothing.
It wasn’t nothing to him.
Every brush of your fingers set his nerves on fire. Every laugh you shared made his heart ache and his cock twitch.
He wanted to fuck you so deep you’d forget your own name. Wanted to hear you beg wanted to make you feel good, worshiped, ruined. he’d hold back until the day that he dies. Because you trusted him. And he’d never take advantage of that. Never touch you unless you asked him to.
But he was slipping. More and more, his fantasies blurred with reality. He caught himself staring at your lips, imagining how they’d feel wrapped around his cock. He thought about bending you over his kitchen counter when you came over to cook dinner. About tasting you after a long day your sweat, your moans, your pleasure burning into his mouth like a reward.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, palming himself through his pants now, just to ease the ache.
His wings twitched behind him as he imagined your voice in his ear.
“Keigo… please…”
Would you say his name like that? Would you beg for him to go deeper? Harder? Would you cry out for him, nails clawing at his back, thighs trembling as he pushed you over the edge again and again?
Would you finally look at him not just as your best friend, but as the man who’s been dying to be inside you? The man who loved you with everything he had?The thought was enough to tip him over, and he hissed your name into the night air, guilt and desire tangled up in his veins like poison.
He stayed there for a while, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow as the tension drained from him but the ache remained. Because no matter how many times he relieved the pressure, no matter how many times he imagined your hands on him, your mouth, your body it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough. Because he didn’t want your body for just a night. He wanted to have you consume his entire day, everyday. He wanted you. All of you.
Present Mic | Hizashi Yamada X Reader
⋆˚✿˖° Mid Life Crisis ⋆˚✿˖°
I want to become tumblr’s token Present mic fanfic writer. I LOVE THAT MAN LIKE NOBODY CAN!!! One person in my DMs had me going back to my drafts immediately
masterlist
he’s never peaked and he will never peak because he’s perfect and amazing.
Hizashi’s house was huge. It didn’t look it from the outside, but once you stepped in, it was like a shrine to rock and roll. Posters of legendary bands covered the walls, electric guitars hung all across the rooms, and vinyl records stacked in neat rows lined the shelves. It was so him,loud in personality but meticulously cared for.
You were getting ready in his bedroom, standing in front of his full length mirror, adjusting the tight dress that hugged all the right places. It wasn’t anything too much, but it was enough to turn heads, and you were already excited for the one person that you cared about to see you.
“Alright, babe, you ready to-” His voice cut off as soon as he stepped in. You smirked at him through the mirror. He had his hair tied up in a bun, a simple button up and vest combo making him look effortlessly cool. But that wasn’t the fun part, the fun part was the way he was staring. “-go?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
“Oh? Something wrong, Yamada?” you teased, turning to face him fully, giving a little spin. “Too much?”
Hizashi blinked, his mouth slightly open, then shook his head violently. “Nope! Nope, not at all! In fact, I, wow, okay, I love my life.”
You laughed, stepping closer, running a hand down his vest. “You clean up nice yourself. That handsome face of yours, I’m gonna have to fight off the others tonight.”
“Me? Babe, me? I need to be concerned about you!” He pointed an exaggerated, accusing finger at you. “Do you see yourself? You’re illegal. You should be arrested for—wait, no, that sounds weird—uh, I should be arrested for—uh—”
You snorted as he tripped over his words, his usual confident, loud persona cracking in real time. Adorable. “So you like it?” you hummed, tilting your head.
“Like is an understatement, sweetheart. You are out here committing crimes against my heart, and I ain’t even mad about it.” He held you close, staring at you, or rather looking right in your eyes. “I’m simping so hard right now, I swear.”
You grinned, stepping even closer, hands resting on his chest now. “I should not had let the class teach you that word….Then should we even go to the party? Or should I just let you keep simping all night?
Hizashi groaned, throwing his head back. “Babe, don’t tempt me. The only thing keeping me from locking this door and worshipping the ground you walk on is that I know if we don’t show up, Aizawa is going to kill me if I leave him alone.”
You pouted dramatically. “Ugh, fine. But you better keep this same energy the whole night.” He leaned down, lips just barely brushing against yours before he grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, you know me”
—-
Hizashi didn’t let up. Not at all. Not when you were walking through the front doors of the party, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as if staking his claim which, considering the amount of attention you were getting in that dress, was completely intentional.
the loud, confident, sometimes utterly ridiculous man who never seemed to run out of energy. And you, the calm (most of the time), equally confident pro who somehow managed to keep up with his antics. People talked about your relationship all the time. The age gap, the differences in energy, how did this even happen? conversations. But the truth, You were stupid for each other.
It wasn’t just the attraction, though damn if that wasn’t strong. It was the fact that no matter how much Hizashi turned a room into his stage, his eyes always found you first. The fact that, even after a long day, when he should’ve been crashing, he’d still pull you into his arms and hum softly, running his hands through your hair as you talked about your day. The fact that for all his confidence, you were the one who made him speechless. on the flip side? He was your biggest hype man. Always in your corner, always reminding you just how much of a badass you were. You might be a top 10 pro, but he made sure you felt like one, even on the days when you didn’t.
——
The party was in full swing, music blaring, drinks flowing, and pros of all ranks finally letting loose for once. It was rare to get a night like this, where no one had to worry about saving the world, so you were damn well going to enjoy it. You were on the dance floor with Hawks and Mirko, and it was all over the place.
Mirko was hyping you up like crazy, clapping and whistling every time you so much as moved, while Hawks, ever the showman, had decided he was going to out dance everyone. including you.
“Alright, alright,” you laughed, pointing at Hawks as he spun dramatically. “You do realize you’re the only one trying, right?”
“Oh, please,” he shot back, flipping his bangs out of his eyes. “This is all done in a super nonchalant way. You’re just mad, you can’t keep up!”
That earned a sharp laugh from Mirko, who immediately joined in. “Yeah, no way I’m letting that slide. Get his ass.”
And so the battle began. At some point, it stopped being about looking good and turned into pure nonsense. Argyably it never looked good. Hawks attempting breakdancing moves he had no business trying, Mirko throwing in kicks just because? and you? You just let loose, moving however you wanted, laughing so hard your sides hurt. Some of the other pros were watching, some cheering, some just shaking their heads at the spectacle. Midnight had walked by at one point, smirking knowingly. “Well, aren’t you three the life of the party?”
“Damn right we are!” Hawks shot back, striking a pose.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Hizashi was not moving at all. He and Aizawa had claimed one of the couches, and while the party raged around them, they were just chilling. Hizashi had one arm draped over the back of the couch, his drink in hand, his usual grin plastered on his face. He was vibing, content just being there, occasionally chatting with Aizawa between pros walking past and greeting them.
Aizawa, on the other hand, was doing what he did best sitting in silence, eyes half lidded, drink untouched.
“She’s having fun,” Aizawa eventually said, nodding towards you on the dance floor. Hizashi followed his gaze, his grin softening a bit when he spotted you. Even in a crowd, even with people surrounding you, his eyes always found you first.
“Yeah,” he said, voice just a little too fond. “She looks real good, too.”
Aizawa sighed. “You’re so lame.”
Hizashi cackled. “Oh, you have no idea, man.”
Hizashi leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out as he sipped his drink. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the room, but he was content just sitting there, people watching with Aizawa. It was a rare break from the chaos of pro hero life, and even if the night was loud, it was nice. Aizawa, meanwhile, sat like he always did hunched, arms crossed, looking like he was two seconds away from dipping. Hizashi wasn’t fooled, though. The fact that Aizawa hadn’t actually left yet meant he didn’t hate it too much.
“Hard to believe we get to do this now, huh?” Hizashi mused, watching as a few lower ranked pros passed by, nodding respectfully in their direction. Some were fresh faces, new names climbing the ranks, and it reminded him just how much things had changed.
Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Feels weird. Feels like we should be doing something else. Something useful.” Hizashi snorted. “You are doing something useful relaxing.”
Aizawa gave him a look. “That’s your definition of useful?”
“Damn right it is!” Hizashi gestured dramatically around the room. “Look at everyone! They’re all taking a break, lettin’ loose, remembering they’re people and not just walking disaster response units. You think we don’t deserve this?”
Aizawa hesitated, his expression unreadable. Hizashi knew where his mind was going before he even had to say it. The sheer amount of loss they’d all seen, the students, the fellow heroes, the weight of the world on their shoulders. It was hard to sit back and have a good time when the job never really stopped.
Before Aizawa could spiral too deep, a familiar voice cut through the moment. “Wow, look at you two, I dont know if you guys know how a party works”
Hizashi looked up to see Snipe passing by, arms crossed, the usual deep-set frown on his face. Beside him, Power loader, now slightly sweaty from dancing, grinned at the sight of them.
“Don’t be jealous, old man,” Hizashi shot back. “Not everyone can handle this level of zen!”
Snipe just smiles and walked away. Power Loader, however, laughed and clapped Hizashi on the shoulder before following.
“Man, with the amount of pros here I feel there's a problem bound to happen,” Aizawa muttered. Before Hizashi could respond, another familiar presence approached, Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady.
“Yamada,” Kamui greeted with a nod.
“Hizashi,” Mt. Lady added, her gaze flickering over to Aizawa. “And… the usual grump.” Aizawa just sighed.
“You two taking it easy, huh?” Kamui asked.
“Someone’s gotta hold down the couches,” Hizashi joked.
Mt. Lady smirked. “You sure you’re not just getting old?”
“Ouch!” Hizashi smiled. “whats up with the hate for relaxing at parties?”
She just laughed as she and Kamui walked off, leaving Hizashi shaking his head. Aizawa took another sip of his drink before finally speaking. “You are getting old, though.”
“Excuse me?”
Aizawa gave him a sideways glance, eyes just barely amused. “You’re 30, dating a 22 year old, wearing your hair in a bun, talking about how much things have changed, face it, you’re having a mid life crisis.”
Hizashi gasped like he’d just been personally attacked which he kinda did. “How dare you.”
Aizawa shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”
Hizashi shook his head, sighing dramatically. “And here I was, thinking I could count on my best friend to support me.”
“I am supporting you,” Aizawa said, smirking slightly. “I just think it’s funny.”
“You’re so lucky I love you, man,” Hizashi grumbled, finishing off his drink.
Aizawa hummed. “Lucky is one way to put it.”
Hizashi wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t insecure, either. He was loud, confident, and damn well knew what he brought to the table. But the age thing? Yeah. That always made him think. He knew Aizawa had just been messing with him, it was what they did, their whole friendship built on dry humor and good natured jabs. But now, sitting there, watching the party move around him, the thought wouldn’t leave his head.
He was 30. You were 22.
Eight years wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was some old man, but still sometimes, it made him wonder.
You were young, in your prime, one of the best heroes out there. You had the world at your feet. And sure, he was at some point in the top 10, too, still full of energy, but there were moments like this one where he felt older. Not in a way that made him doubt himself, but in a way that made him wonder if you’d ever look back and think… damn, I should’ve picked someone my own age.
He hated thinking like that. It was dumb. You were with him. You chose him, over and over again. But it didn’t change the fact that every now and then, the thought crept in. Maybe it was because he loved you so much. Like, a stupid amount. Enough that he wanted to make sure you never regretted choosing him. Enough that he caught himself worrying about things he’d normally laugh off.
Maybe that’s what a mid-life crisis really was. Not the bun, not the nostalgia, not the way Aizawa poked fun. It was realizing you had something so good, and you’d do anything to keep it. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his thumb over the rim of his glass. Aizawa, ever perceptive even when half asleep, glanced at him. “You actually thinking about it?”
Hizashi snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. Just… y’know.”
Aizawa hummed. “You know she loves you, right?”
That made Hizashi pause. It wasn’t like Aizawa to say stuff like that outright.
Hizashi chuckled, leaning back again, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah. I know.”
And he did. He just had to remind himself sometimes.
——
The music was still pounding, the lights flashing in a dizzying rhythm as you moved with Hawks and Mirko. The three of you had long given up on anything resembling actual dancing. it was just pure fun now. Hawks was still determined to outshine everyone, while Mirko hyped up literally everything you did, laughing wildly every time one of you spun too fast or almost tripped.
Maybe you’d had a little too much to drink. You weren’t drunk, just… happy. A little lightheaded, a little more free. Enough that the world felt warmer, easier, like nothing could touch you in this moment. Or you were drunk. hussssh now
And then, between the spinning lights and the blur of movement, your eyes landed on him. Hizashi was still on the couch, still grinning, still talking with Aizawa, but… something felt off. Maybe it was the slight shift in his posture, or the way his usual energy seemed just a little muted.
You didn’t think. One second, you were dancing. The next, you were running. Well, stumbling, really. Mirko shouted something, probably encouragement. Hawks called after you, definitely something teasing. But you didn’t stop. You just launched yourself forward, nearly crashing into Hizashi’s side as you practically tackled him in a hug.
“WHOA!” Hizashi barely had time to react before you were on him, arms wrapped around his torso, your body half in his lap as you buried your face against his vest.
“Heyyyyy,” you mumbled, grinning up at him.
Hizashi blinked, caught somewhere between startled and entirely smitten. Then, as if on instinct, he wrapped his arms around you, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Babe, you good?”
“Mmmhmm.” You nuzzled closer, tightening your hold. “Just wanted to be near you.”
Aizawa, still sitting beside him, gave you both the most unimpressed look before sighing. “I’m leaving.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hizashi waved him off, though his eyes never left you. “Love you too, bro.”
Aizawa just grunted, standing up and disappearing into the crowd. Hizashi, meanwhile, exhaled slowly, letting his chin rest against the top of your head. “Didn’t know I was makin’ a face to call you over.”
“You weren’t,” you murmured. “But I know you.”
Hizashi’s arms tightened around you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held you there, warm and solid, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Then, with a soft laugh, he murmured, “Im so lucky I love you.”
“Mmhmm.” You grinned. “I love you.”
You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, still grinning, still feeling weightless from the drinks and the music and him. Hizashi’s golden eyes flickered with warmth, soft under the dim party lights. He was still holding you close, one arm securely around your waist, the other resting lazily along the back of the couch.
You just stared at him, a slow, happy smile spreading across your lips.
He raised a brow, smirking slightly. “What’re you lookin’ at, silly girl?”
Your smile widened. “Just you.”
Hizashi’s grip on you tightened, his smirk faltering for half a second before he chuckled low and fond and a little breathless. “Damn,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You tryna kill me tonight?”
You hummed, tilting your head. “Maaaybe.”
He laughed, the sound softer than usual, quieter, meant just for you. His fingers curled slightly against your waist, absentmindedly tracing circles through the fabric of your dress.
“Y’know,” he mused, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might just have to kiss ya right here, in front of everyone.”
You grinned, tilting your chin up just slightly. “Then do it.”
Hizashi inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening for half a second, like you’d really just tested him. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he flopped back against the couch, “You’re so cute,” he teased, “so reckless, throwin’ my heart around like it’s not already yours.”
You giggled, resting your forehead against his. “Oops.” He let out another laugh, softer this time, before pressing a quick, firm kiss to your temple. “C’mon, babe.” His voice was warm, teasing, but genuine. “Let’s get you some water before you start tryin’ to propose to me or somethin’.”
You gasped even louder, dramatically placing a hand over your heart like he had just offended you. “How dare you, Mic?”
His grin widened. “I knew it—”
But before he could finish, you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly between both of yours as you sat up on your knees beside him. “Hizashi Yamada,” you began, voice full of drunken conviction.
“Oh my god,” he wheezed, eyes widening.
“You are the loudest, most ridiculous, most obnoxiously handsome man I have ever met,” you declared, staring deeply into his golden eyes. “You make me laugh, you make me smile, and you make me feel like the luckiest person alive.”
Hizashi covered his mouth with his free hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Babe—”
“Shhh,” you hushed him by placing a hand on his face. then squeezing his fingers. “Let me finish.”
At this point, some of the nearby pros had started noticing. Mirko was doubled over dying in the background, Hawks was crying laughing, and even a few others had turned their heads, realizing that something was going down.
“So,” you continued, lifting his hand like you were about to slip a ring on it, “Hizashi Yamada, my dear, sweet rockstar of a boyfriend… will you—”
Hizashi lunged, scooping you up in his arms and pulling you into his lap before you could even finish. “NOPE,” he shouted, grinning wildly as you giggled hysterically. “We are NOT doin’ this in front of everybody, sweetheart!”
“But I’m serious!” you cackled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m so serious!”
Hizashi groaned, dramatically letting his forehead fall against your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Soooo… is that a yes?”
He pulled back, looked at you with the softest smile, and leaned in close, his lips barely brushing your ear as he murmured, “Ask me again when you’re sober, babe.”*
Hizashi had always known he loved you. That wasn’t new. It wasn’t some grand realization that hit him all at once it was something steady, something constant, like a favorite song playing on loop in the background of his life.
But sometimes like right now it hit him differently. You hadn’t asked what was wrong. You hadn’t pried or tried to dig into his thoughts. You’d just looked at him, noticed the way his energy had faltered for even a second, and decided that was all you needed to know.
You had run to him… well crashed into his side, curled up against him like he was the only thing that mattered in a room full of pros. You weren’t trying to fix anything, weren’t offering reassurances you didn’t even know he needed. You were just there. Holding him, looking at him like he was still the coolest guy in the room, like he was still your favorite person.
And damn if that didn’t make his chest feel too tight in the best possible way. Hizashi had spent years making other people feel seen, heard, important. That was just who he was. But you? You did that for him.
Without even trying.
And he wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but hell. he’d take it. He’d take every drunk proposal, every chaotic moment, every time you looked at him like he mattered more than the number next to his name on the hero charts.
You held his hand so tightly, no hesitation, no doubt, like letting go wasn’t even an option to you.
And as he scooped you up into his lap to stop you from dramatically proposing in front of everyone, as you giggled against him, as he told you to ask again when you were sober he knew.
Hizashi Yamada, ranked 42, loudest hero in the country, knew. If you ever did ask him again… His answer would always be yes.
—-
The second Hizashi unlocked the front door, you beelined for the couch. Well “beelined” was a strong word. It was more of a zigzagging, slightly uncoordinated stumble, courtesy of the drinks still making everything feel just a little too floaty.
“Babe” Hizashi barely had time to react before
THUMP.
You face planted directly onto the couch, limbs sprawled, dress slightly askew, completely motionless. Silence.
“Oh my god,” Hizashi wheezed, kicking the door shut behind him as laughter exploded out of him. “You good?!”
Your muffled voice came from somewhere in the couch cushions. “I live here now.”
Hizashi wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head, still grinning like an idiot. “Nah, babe, you gotta move. we gotta get you to bed.”
You dramatically threw an arm over your face. “Not anymore. This couch and I are one.”
“suuuuure.” He snorted, walking over and kneeling beside you, hands warm as he gently rubbed your back. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”
You peeked out from under your arm, giving him a lazy, loopy grin. “I knooow.”
Hizashi chuckled, then leaned in, brushing a kiss against your temple. “C’mon, superstar,” he murmured. “Let’s get you outta this dress and into somethin’ comfy before you actually pass out here.”*
You hummed thoughtfully. “Counteroffer: carry me.”
Hizashi groaned dramatically, already slipping his arms under you. “You are the most spoiled human alive”
“And yet, you love me.”
He sighed, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, yeah. I really, really do.”*
As Hizashi carried you toward the bedroom, you let your head rest on his shoulder, gazing at the familiar surroundings. You’d always technically had your own place, your own space to retreat to. A sleek apartment in the heart of the city, stylish and practical. It had everything you needed, an expansive living room, a kitchen with all the gadgets, and a spacious bedroom with a view of the skyline.
But lately? You hadn’t spent much time there. You’d find yourself opting for Hizashi’s place more and more. His house was different from yours, messy in the best way, with guitars propped up against the walls and posters of old school rock bands plastered on every inch of the space. It wasn’t as polished or clean as your apartment, but that was part of its charm. The clutter felt lived in, real. Every inch of his place had his touch on it, and somehow, it felt like home in a way your apartment never quite did.
Even the sounds of the house were different, his music blaring from speakers, his laughter filling the air in a way your space had never known. And then there was the smell of his cologne, of takeout containers on the counter, and the lingering scent of old vinyl records. It was comfortable in a way your place could never be.
—-
You were already curled up on the bed, the cozy oversized hoodie of Hizashi’s hanging loosely around your shoulders as you relaxed, your eyes drifting lazily over to him.
Hizashi was standing by the dresser, pulling his shirt from his back. You could see the outline of his muscles through the fabric, his usual confident swagger already making its way into the room. The shirt came off, and you couldn’t help yourself.
“Hubba hubba,” you said, low and teasing, eyes half lidded in playful admiration.
Hizashi paused mid motion, glancing at you with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, his lips twitching as he shook his head. “Really? You’ve had enough of the party already, and now you’re making comments like that?”
“I’m just appreciating the view,” you grinned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
already pulling his t-shirt off and tossing it casually over his shoulder, sending it flying directly toward you. “There. Now you can cuddle with this.”
You caught it effortlessly, wrapping it around yourself with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, this is like drugs”
Hizashi smirked, standing now in just his vest, eyes twinkling with that usual teasing glint. “You’re welcome, superstar. Now, sleep. I swear, you can’t be serious about anything right now.”
“Who said I wasn’t serious?” you teased, settling back into the pillows with the shirt around you like a blanket. “I’m just showing my appreciation for my handsome boyfriend.”
Hizashi chuckled, walking toward the bed and lying down next to you. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, already getting comfortable beside you. “Alright, enough with the compliments. We both need sleep.”
You couldn’t resist giving him one last playful glance, leaning over and kissing his cheek quickly before nestling down beside him. “Fine, fine… but I’m still thinking ‘hubba hubba’ in my head.”
He rolled his eyes once more, pulling you closer with a content sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Yep,” you whispered with a sleepy smile. “and i’m sure you wouldn’t want it any other way.” He didn’t reply right away, his arms pulling you close as you both settled in for the night.
You: i don't want to victim blame but maybe if he didn't want to be called babygirl he shouldn't have been such a babygirl. just a thought.
:0
⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°
────୨ৎ────
Geto Suguru x Reader
Gojo Satoru x Reader
────୨ৎ────
⋆˚✿˖° 2. I’ve Played these Games Before
Headcannon, the men are stupid
if you missed the last chapter and want more-> masterlist
₍^. .^₎⟆ Geto sighed, stretching his arms as he strolled toward his dorm. The study session had been useless (as expected), but at least it had been entertaining. Though, if he was being honest, the best part of the evening had been watching Gojo flail around in real-time romantic panic.
He smirked to himself. That was going to be fun to watch unfold.
Not that he cared much about the bet itself. That was just a way to mess with Gojo, to see him squirm. Nothing more.
His plan was simple he’d treat you exactly the same as always. Calm, confident, teasing. Unlike Gojo, he didn’t need to rely on some ridiculous strategy. He wasn’t about to start googling psychological tricks like a lovesick idiot.
No, he’d just make a few subtle changes. More intentional eye contact. More casual touches. More moments of quiet attention, the kind that made people feel like they were the only one in the room.
At least, that’s what he thought, until lunchtime the next day, when Gojo started getting on his nerves.
Because, of course, Gojo wasn’t capable of subtlety.
“Wow,” Gojo whistled, sliding into the seat across from you. “Look at you, already eating without me? I thought we had something special.”
You looked up mid bite, a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth. “Gojo, you were literally behind me in line.”
“Details,” he waved off, dramatically propping his chin in his hand. “But you know, I was thinking of eating alone today… until I saw you, and my heart just knew I couldn’t let that happen.”
You snorted. “Sounds rough, buddy.”
His sunglasses slid down his nose just enough for you to see his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have no idea.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking another bite of your food. Gojo watched you closely, subtly shifting in his seat. Step one—mirroring movements. You lifted your spoon, and he lazily picked up his chopsticks. You leaned forward slightly, and he mirrored the action. He was subtle about it, of course. Natural. Completely normal. Definitely not weird.
Except you paused, squinting at him.
“…Are you copying me?”
Gojo choked on air. “Wh—what? No! Pfft. I’m just sitting.”
Your grin widened. “Satoru, are you copying me?”
He waved his chopsticks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
You squinted a second longer, then shrugged, going back to your food. “Mhm. Sure.”
Gojo let out a silent breath. Okay. Maybe less obvious on that one.
Right. Step two—eye contact.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm as he gazed at you, letting his signature smirk tug at his lips. A confident, roguish expression that, historically, had driven people wild.
You, however, just blinked at him. “Are you- why are you staring at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re waiting for me to read your mind or something.”
Gojo sighed dramatically. “I was just admiring the way the cafeteria lights shine in your eyes. Very mesmerizing. Stunning, even.”
You blinked again. “Satoru, the cafeteria lights are fluorescent.”
“Exactly,” he grinned. “Yet, somehow, you make them work.”
You just groaned, shaking your head. “You are so weird.”
He ignored the minor setback and moved to Step three—casual physical touch. Casual. Natural. Smooth. So he reached across the table and lightly flicked your forehead.
You recoiled, dramatically grabbing your head. “Ow?!”
“Oops.” He grinned. “Slipped.”
“You slipped into flicking me?”
“Crazy, right?”
You narrowed your eyes before retaliating, smacking his arm with the back of your spoon. “Oops,” you mimicked, grinning. “I slipped.”
Gojo laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, truce.” You huffed, still smiling, before turning your attention back to your food.
Step four—make them laugh.
He was already a pro at that. Easy. No problem. You weren’t in a bad mood or anything, just a little spaced out, quietly picking at your food while Geto and Shoko talked beside you. Normally, you’d be more engaged, but today, your mind just wasn’t all there.
Gojo, of course, noticed. And he could not let that slide.
“Alright, I’m making an official declaration,” he announced, leaning forward with a grin. “I’m getting her—” he pointed dramatically at you “—to laugh before lunch is over.”
Shoko didn’t even look up from her juice box. “Shouldn’t take long. Five minutes.”
“Two,” Geto said, smirking. “He’s predictable.”
You blinked at them. “Wait—what? I do laugh.”
“Not enough,” Gojo countered, watching you with exaggerated scrutiny. “Not the real, ugly, snorting kind. That’s the goal.”
“You don’t need that,” you said flatly.
“Oh, but I do.”
He leaned forward, hands clasped like he was about to deliver something profound. “Okay. Picture this. I’m fighting this cursed spirit the other day—big, ugly thing, smelled like a sewer. And it looks at me and goes, ‘Hey, aren’t you that discount Kakashi?’”
Silence.
Geto exhaled through his nose, mildly amused. Shoko just sighed. You gave Gojo a slow blink.
Gojo placed a hand on his chest, scandalized. “Nothing? That was comedy gold.”
“That was sad,” Geto corrected.
“Okay, fine, I can do better,” Gojo said, shaking it off before dramatically throwing himself against Geto’s side. “Bro, I can’t believe this. My own best friend, laughing before she does. This is a betrayal. How do I go on?”
“Quieter,” Geto muttered, shoving him off.
Gojo ignored him. “Alright, last attempt.” He turned to you, suddenly serious. “If you don’t laugh in the next ten seconds, I’m taking your dessert.”
Your head snapped up. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
And then, as if to prove he meant business, he grabbed two onigiri from Geto’s tray, wiggled them like little sock puppets, and in the most high pitched, overly dramatic voice you’d ever heard, went:
“Oh no, Gojo-sama, please spare us! We are but humble rice balls!”
He made one onigiri turn to the other. “Brother, I don’t think he’s going to show us mercy…”
The second onigiri shook dramatically. “No, we still have so much to live for! My wife, my children, who will tell them what happened to me?”
“I will, dear brother,” the first one promised solemnly. “I will tell them of your bravery!”
“No!” The second onigiri screamed (or rather, Gojo screamed for it). “You must live on! Let me be the one to—AHHH!”
And with that, Gojo chucked the onigiri into his mouth and took an exaggerated, victorious bite.
You burst out laughing. The kind of laugh you couldn’t hold in if you tried, the kind that made you lean forward onto the table, shoulders shaking as you gasped for air.
Gojo pointed at you with a mouthful of rice. “Boom. Victory.”
Shoko sighed, sipping her juice. “Took longer than I thought.”
Geto shook his head. “I’m never letting you near my food again.”
But Gojo wasn’t listening. He was too busy basking in his success, leaning toward you with a cocky grin. “Told you you couldn’t resist my charm.”
“You’re an idiot,” you wheezed, still catching your breath.
“And yet,” Gojo said, stealing your dessert anyway, “an idiot with perfect comedic timing.” You groaned I’m reply.
He grinned, triumphant.
Then, Step five, say their name more. “Hey, (Y/N),” he drawled, propping his chin on his hand.
You raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Satoru?”
He blinked. “Uh.”
Damn it. He didn’t actually have anything to say. He’d just read in some stupid article that saying your name was supposed to make you subconsciously more interested in him.
“…Nothing,” he said smoothly, smiling. “Just wanted to remind you how nice your name sounds.”
You gave him a look. “Right.”
A beat of silence. Then
“Satoru,” you said, voice suspiciously sweet.
Gojo grinned. “Yeah?”
“You are being weird.”
“Me?” He placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Weird? Perish the thought.”
You just laughed, shaking your head as you finished the last of your food. “Anyway, as fun as this has been, Im a little thirsty.”
Gojo gasped. “What, you’re leaving me?”
“You’ll survive.” You smirked, standing up. “Probably.”
He clutched his chest dramatically. “(Y/N), your cruelty knows no bounds.”
You just rolled your eyes but smiled. “I’ll be back I want to get a other juice Gojo”
And then you were gone, disappearing into the cafeteria crowd.Gojo sighed, dropping his head onto the table.Well. That could’ve gone better. He pulled out his phone, opening his notes app.
The Gojo Satoru Foolproof Love Plan™ (That Hopefully Works and Doesn’t End in Humiliation)
1. Mirroring movements (FAILED. TOO OBVIOUS.)
2. Eye contact (??? Unclear. Need feedback.)
3. Casual touches (Flicking? Bad idea. Find alternative.)
4. Make them laugh (SUCCESS. OBVIOUSLY.)
5. Say their name more (Awkward. Do not force it.)
6. Grand romantic gesture??? (Not yet. Too soon.)
7. Don’t mess this up. (Currently… TBD.)
Gojo sighed, locking his phone.
—
Geto watched from across the lunch table, fingers idly tapping against his drink, as Gojo leaned way too far into your space. He dropped your name into the conversation at least three times in the last minute, nudged your arm, and let out an exaggerated laugh at something you’d said, something that wasn’t that funny. Then when you got up he looked straight at gojo.
“Alright,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Are you trying to scare them away?”
Gojo shot him a look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Geto just raised an eyebrow. Gojo’s eye twitched slightly. Shoko, who had been watching this unfold with the air of someone witnessing a tragic yet hilarious accident, snorted. “You’re overdoing it,” she told Gojo.
“No, I’m not” Gojo started, then cut himself off, visibly forcing himself to look less desperate. He leaned back, feigning ease. “I mean, pfft. No way. This is all natural.”
Geto exhaled slowly, leveling Gojo with a knowing look.
Because here was the thing, Gojo wasn’t bad at this. He was naturally charismatic. He could be smooth. But when he actually cared about something? When it actually mattered?
He became a disaster, it was obvious that this mattered. Which meant Geto had the upper hand for now. He allowed himself a small smirk before turning back to you as you came back. Unlike Gojo, he wouldn’t trip over himself. He wouldn’t force it. He’d just let things fall into place.
This was going to be easy.
Except.
As lunch went on, Geto noticed something.
At first, Gojo’s fumbling had been amusing. Watching the ever-confident Satoru practically trip over his own feet was undeniably entertaining. But the longer Geto watched, the more he started to realize why Gojo was messing up so badly. Because Gojo flirted all the time. He teased, he charmed half the jujitsu world was wrapped around his finger without him even trying.
Gojo actually liked you.
The thought settled like a weight in Geto’s chest. His fingers tapped idly against the table.
He glanced at you. You were laughing, completely oblivious to the quiet crisis happening across the table. And something about that sent an uncomfortable twist through his stomach.
He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was serious. He was just messing with Gojo. That’s what he’d told himself. That’s all this was.
…Right?
Then why did his gaze linger a little too long when you smiled? Why did it bother him when Gojo made you laugh first? Why did it feel like he was always second to Gojo?
Because that was how it always went, wasn’t it?
Gojo was loud, blinding, impossible to ignore. The center of attention in every room. And Geto?
He was there. A presence. A shadow. Not invisible, not overlooked but never first. watching Gojo fight for your attention, watching you react to him, laugh at him. The weight in Geto’s chest grew heavier. His grip on his drink tightened.
No.
This wasn’t about Gojo. It wasn’t about the bet. It wasn’t about proving a point. This was about you. Because he didn’t just want to win. He wanted you and for you to know he wont always come second
He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat, watching as Gojo tried (and failed) to act casual.
—
“You know, (Y/n),” Gojo drawled, slinging an arm over the back of your chair like he owned the place. His fingers drummed lazily against the wood, his usual cocky smirk in place. “I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s a first,” you quipped without missing a beat, eyes still focused on your food as you casually poked at your meal.
Across the table, Geto exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. Shoko, perched beside him with her cigarette balanced between two fingers, barely hid her smirk as she took a slow drag.
Gojo clicked his tongue, feigning offense. “Rude. I was about to say something really profound, actually.
Finally, you glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. “Oh? Enlighten me, oh wise and powerful one.”
Gojo grinned wider, but Geto, who knew him better than anyone, noticed the way his fingers tapped just a little too quickly against the table. A nervous tic, barely noticeable. Interesting.
“Well, now I don’t want to with that attitude” Gojo continued, voice dripping with forced nonchalance. “I was just thinking, don’t you think we make a great pair?”
You blinked at him, head tilting slightly with a smirk. “A pair of what, exactly?”
For the first time since opening his mouth, Gojo hesitated. It was only for a fraction of a second, but in that brief pause, Geto could see the exact moment doubt crept into his friend’s mind.
“A pair of… cool people?” Gojo finally offered, flashing a sheepish smile, one hand adjusting his sunglasses even though they hadn’t moved.
There was a beat of silence. Shoko exhaled smoke through her nose, unimpressed. Geto took a slow sip of his drink, watching the interaction unfold with the air of a man witnessing a slow motion car crash painful, but fascinating.
Meanwhile, you squinted at Gojo, head tilting slightly, as if trying to decipher some kind of hidden meaning. “Did you just try to flirt with me by suggesting we… form a club?”
“No” Gojo started, but before he could finish, Geto decided to cut in. Because, really, this was just too good to pass up.
“Oh, I dunno,” he interjected smoothly, tilting his head slightly in your direction. His voice carried the perfect balance of amusement and intrigue, just enough to make Gojo twitch. “I think he’s onto something. You are pretty cool, after all.”
That got your attention. Your lips curled into a delighted grin as you turned to Geto. “Someone recognizes my greatness!” You placed a dramatic hand over your chest. “It’s about time.” You stick out your tongue to gojo
“Get I’m your knees and say I’m cool and you’re not ” You pointed your chopsticks at gojo,
Geto hummed, pleased with himself as he set his drink down. “I only speak the truth.”
Gojo’s eye twitched. Oh, come on.
Shoko exhaled another puff of smoke, watching the scene unfold like it was the best entertainment she’d had in weeks. This is a mess, she thought. A hilarious, glorious mess.
Gojo, meanwhile, looked like he was seconds away from combusting. He narrowed his eyes at Geto, who looked far too pleased with himself, before quickly shaking it off.
“Anyway,” Gojo cut back in, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation. He turned to you again, tapping your shoulder lightly as his grin returned. “What I meant was, you and me? We work well together, y’know? Great chemistry and all that.”
You smirk at him. “Like lab partners?”
There was a moment of silence and then Shoko choked on her drink. Geto coughed lightly, raising a fist to his mouth to cover his smirk. But internally? He was dying.
Gojo froze. His jaw clenched for just a fraction of a second before he forced a grin, his usual confidence cracking under the weight of sheer secondhand embarrassment. “Exactly like lab partners,” he said, voice painfully flat.
“Cool!” You beamed, completely oblivious to Gojo’s growing inner turmoil. “Let me know when we’re dissecting frogs, I guess.” Then you for up and ran to utahime for a moment when you see her aggressively waving you over.
Gojo groaned, flopping back in his seat like a man defeated.
Shoko wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. “This is actually painful to watch.”
“Not for me,” Geto mused, barely containing his smirk as he leaned back.
Gojo turned his head just enough to glare at him. “You suck.”
“Aw, Satoru,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Don’t be such a sore loser.”
“Losing implies I’ve lost,” Gojo shot back, sitting up with renewed determination. “And I never lose.”
Geto merely raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said smoothly, sipping his drink again. But inside, he was still thinking about the way you had laughed at his words. The way you had turned to him so easily, bright eyed and happy.
And just like that, what was supposed to be a harmless bet felt like something else entirely. Something he wasn’t willing to lose.
—
After lunch wrapped up, Gojo had been dragged away by some underclassmen pestering him for help though, judging by his exaggerated groan of suffering, you’d think they were sentencing him to life in prison. Shoko had peeled off shortly after, muttering something about a nap and waving lazily over her shoulder.
That left you and Geto.
The two of you walked side by side through the courtyard, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. It was warm but not unpleasant, with a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance.
“So,” Geto said, hands slipping casually into his pockets. “Lab partners, huh?”
You grinned, glancing up at him. “What? You don’t think me and Gojo have great chemistry?”
Geto hummed, pretending to consider it. “More like chaotic combustion.”
You laughed, nudging his arm playfully. “Okay, thats just basic math when you out us I’m a room together”
The sound of your laughter settled into Geto’s chest, warm and lingering. He’d always liked that about you how easy it was for you to find amusement in things, how naturally lighthearted you could be. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed your company so much.
He wasn’t even sure when it had started this noticing of yours. The way you smiled when you were really, genuinely happy. The way your hands moved when you talked excitedly. The way your eyes lit up when you were being playful, like they had during lunch when you had turned to him.
Yeah. He was noticing a lot more than he used to.
“You were really enjoying yourself back there,” you mused, shooting him a knowing look.
Geto smirked. “Can you blame me? Watching Gojo crash and burn is one of life’s simplest pleasures.”
You laughed again, and he found himself watching you a little too closely.
It had started as a joke. Just a bet. A way to mess with Gojo and watch him struggle for once.
But somewhere along the way, something shifted.
Maybe it was because you always seemed to get along with him so easily, without all the dramatics and fanfare that followed Gojo everywhere. Maybe it was because teasing you came as naturally as breathing, and you always played along. Maybe it was because, when you looked at him, it never felt like he was standing in Gojo’s shadow.
Because Geto had spent years watching people flock to Gojo first. It wasn’t something he resented, not really it was just the way things were. Gojo was loud, larger than life, the sun in the center of everyone’s orbit.
But now, as you walked beside him, smiling and laughing and completely unaware of the thoughts creeping into his head he wondered what it would be like if, just this once, he wasn’t second.
If you chose him.
“Alright, then,” you said suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts. “If Gojo and I are chaotic combustion, what kind of chemistry do we have?”
You grinned up at him, eyes bright with curiosity. Playful. Innocent. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. Because for all his usual confidence, for all his careful, patient planning, he hadn’t been expecting that.
His smirk lingered, but this time, it took a fraction of a second longer to form.
“Hmm,” he mused, tilting his head in thought. “I’d say… slow burn.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, is that a real chemistry thing or—”
“Who knows?” Geto said smoothly, flashing you a teasing smile before stepping ahead. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.”
You gaped at him. “Oh, now you’re being mysterious?”
He only laughed, glancing back over his shoulder. “What can I say? Gotta keep things interesting.”
You rolled your eyes but grinned as you jogged to catch up with him and Geto, for all his patience, was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wanted to win this more than he thought.
The neon lights of Tokyo buzzed overhead as the four of you wandered the crowded streets, blending into the after-school . It was that perfect in between time too early for the late-night crowd, but just late enough that everything felt a little more exciting.
And, as usual, Gojo was causing problems.
“You dragged us out here,” you sighed, watching Gojo pat down his pockets like he’d just realized he forgot something important. “How do you not know where we’re going?”
“I do know!” Gojo huffed, placing a hand over his heart like you’d mortally wounded him. “I’m just giving the night a sense of mystery.”
“You lost the directions, didn’t you?” Shoko deadpanned.
“Have some faith in me,” Gojo scoffed.
“I did,” Geto mused. “Then I watched you confidently lead us to a random 7-Eleven last time because you thought there was a ‘secret food market’ underground.”
Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are none of you gonna let that go?”
“No,” you, Geto, and Shoko said in unison.
Gojo grumbled under his breath, but before he could keep digging his own grave, you gestured toward a bright, bustling arcade across the street.
“Let’s just go in there,” you suggested. Pointing towards the arcade near by “Since our fearless leader clearly has no actual plan.”
Gojo perked up. “Hey! I did have a plan—”
“Oh my god, shut up and walk,” Shoko sighed, already making her way inside.
—
The place was packed, rows of flashing game screens, the constant clinking of tokens, and the occasional victorious yell from someone landing a big win. It was the kind of that was just fun enough to be energizing rather than overwhelming.
Immediately, Gojo beelined for a claw machine. “I’m winning something for you,” he declared, pointing at you.
You raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you’ll win.”
Gojo grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Bold of you to underestimate me.”
“Gojo, I watched you spend 3,000 yen last time trying to win a keychain,” Geto reminded him, his voice thoroughly unimpressed.
“Okay, but this time is different,” Gojo insisted. “This time, I have motivation.”
You snorted. “Sure you do.”
Shoko rolled her eyes and wandered off to find a rhythm game, and Geto turned to you, smirking. “Wanna bet on how many tries it takes before he gives up?”
You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”
Thirty Minutes Later…
Gojo was slumped against the claw machine, forehead pressed against the glass, as the plush he had almost grabbed slipped back into the pile for what had to be the twentieth time.
“…This thing is rigged,” he muttered.
Geto, sipping his drink, hummed. “Mmm. Sure.”
You held out a hand toward him. “Pay up.”
Geto sighed but placed a few coins into your palm. “I should’ve known better.”
Shoko strolled back over, glancing at Gojo’s miserable form. “Wow. Are we gonna have to carry you out of here?”
Gojo groaned dramatically. “Leave me. I belong to the void now.”
You rolled your eyes before stepping up to the machine, slipping in a coin. “Here,” you said, gripping the controls. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
Gojo peeled himself off the glass just enough to watch, skeptical. “If you win this on your first try, I’m actually gonna lose my mind.”
You maneuvered the claw, timed the drop perfectly, and…….Bam!
“Your mind better be severally lost when I turn around” you smirk while holding it out to the three of them. Then talking a look at the white haired guy.
“Here, since you worked so hard for it”
Gojo blinked. Then he stared at you. “…You’re giving it to me?”
You shrugged. “Yeah. You worked hard for it.”
Gojo expected you to rub it in, to make some smug comment about how much better you were, but you didn’t. You just… gave it to him. No teasing, no conditions. Just an easy, casual, Here, this is yours.
Something in his chest actually ached.
He took the plush from your hands, staring down at it like it was something important.
“…Wow,” he muttered, voice a little quieter than usual. “So this is what kindness feels like.”
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“No, no, this is a life changing moment,” Gojo insisted, holding the plush to his chest. “I feel so appreciated right now.”
Geto smirked. “You’re gonna sleep with that thing, aren’t you?”
Gojo scoffed. “Of course not.” He absolutely was.
Shoko yawned. “Can we go now, or do you need a moment to emotionally bond with the plush?”
Gojo pouted. “Let me have this.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “C’mon, Gojo.”
As the four of you made your way back outside, Gojo fell into step beside you, still clutching the plush. He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Maybe he had completely embarrassed himself tonight, but… This was definitely the best prize he’d ever won.
—
The four of you ended up at a cozy little ramen shop tucked into a side street, the kind of place with handwritten menus, warm lighting, and the rich smell of broth and grilled meats filling the air. It was nothing fancy, but it was good, one of Geto’s usual spots, which meant it was guaranteed to be great.
The ramen shop was cozy, the kind of place that felt like a well kept secret. The handwritten menus, the warm yellow glow from the hanging lanterns, the smell of rich broth and grilled skewers, it all made for a welcoming atmosphere. A place you could linger, talk, enjoy good food without pretense.
Gojo was still holding the small, plush keychain you’d won for him at the arcade earlier, absentmindedly squeezing it between his fingers as you all slid into a booth. He had insisted he didn’t need it, but you had seen the way his face lit up when you handed it to him, how he twirled it in his hands the entire walk over. He hadn’t let go of it since.
Shoko and Gojo immediately launched into a heated debate over toppings, something about whether bamboo shoots were a necessary addition or a waste of space.
You and Geto exchanged a glance. Unspoken solidarity.
“You wanna share something?” Geto’s voice was casual, smooth, as he leaned an elbow against the table, turning his full attention to you.
You blinked. “Uh"…
Gojo, mid argument with Shoko, snapped his head around so fast you thought he might get whiplash.
“What?”
Geto hummed, reaching for the menu, eyes glinting with amusement. “I was just saying we could split something.” His gaze flicked back to you, warm and steady. “Figured you’d get tired of Gojo stealing food off your plate.”
You scoffed, tilting your head in mock consideration. “That’s… actually a really good point.”
Gojo gasped, pointing an accusatory chopstick at Geto. “I do not steal—”
Shoko snorted. “You ate half my gyoza last week.”
Gojo immediately turned to her, defensive. “You weren’t gonna finish them!”
“You didn’t ask.”
Geto chuckled, nudging the menu toward you. “So? What looks good?”
You skimmed the options, feeling the weight of Geto’s gaze. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing, just waiting, watching, letting you make the decision. It was subtle, but it felt different from his usual teasing. More intentional.
Meanwhile, across the table, Gojo had gone suspiciously quiet.
He kept fidgeting with the plush you won him, his fingers idly squeezing its soft fabric. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal, so what if Geto was pulling out his smooth operator act? That’s just how he was. And it wasn’t like Gojo cared. Except… he kind of did.When the food finally arrived, the table filled with steaming bowls of ramen, plates of dumplings, and skewers of grilled meat. Gojo had ordered the biggest portion possible…partly out of habit, partly as some unspoken form of protest.
Geto slid the bowl of spicy miso ramen between the two of you. “You want the first bite?”
You shrugged. “I don’t mind—”
Before you could finish, Geto picked up a spoon, scooped up a bit of broth, and lifted it toward you
.
“Here. Try it.”
You blinked. Gojo blinked. Shoko, sipping her drink, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“…Are you feeding me?” you asked, both amused and caught off guard.
Geto smirked. “Only if you want me to.”
Gojo’s chopsticks snapped in half.
You chuckled, shaking your head before taking the spoon from Geto yourself. “I can handle it, thanks.”
Geto leaned back, looking very pleased with himself. “Fair enough.”
Gojo, meanwhile, was gripping what was left of his broken chopsticks, staring down at his ramen like he was contemplating the meaning of life.
Shoko nudged him with her elbow. “You good?”
Gojo didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
Shoko smirked. “Uh-huh.”
Gojo kept stirring his ramen. He wasn’t going to say anything because what was there to say? Geto wasn’t doing anything technically wrong. It was just his usual, effortless charm. The same charm that made people naturally gravitate toward him. But tonight, for some reason, it was getting under Gojo’s skin. He knew Geto knew how he played things, knew how easy it was for him to slip into that role. And Gojo had always been fine with that. They were best friends, partners in crime. But now? Now, watching Geto lean just a little closer, watching you smile and laugh without hesitation Gojo felt something simmering in his chest. A feeling he didn’t quite want to name.
Shoko nudged him again. “You sure? Because you’re either planning murder or having an existential crisis over there.”
Gojo exhaled, flopping dramatically against the booth. “I’m just thinking.”
Shoko’s smirk widened. “Thinking about what, exactly?”
Gojo scowled. “Nothing.”
She didn’t press, but she didn’t have to. They both knew exactly what he was thinking.
Across the table, you and Geto were still chatting, sharing your ramen without a second thought.
Gojo finally dropped his chopsticks with a dramatic sigh, flopping back against the booth. “Okay, enough about feeding each other. We get it. You guys have basic teamwork skills.”
Geto, completely unfazed, turned to him with a lazy grin. “You jealous, Satoru?”
Shoko bit back a laugh.
Gojo rolled his eyes. “Me? Jealous? Of you?” He let out a loud, exaggerated laugh before immediately turning to you. “Hey. You wanna try my ramen?”
You gave him a flat look. “Gojo, you got the most boring option on the menu.”
Gojo gasped. “Excuse me? Classic shoyu ramen is a timeless masterpiece.”
Geto chuckled, watching the exchange with amusement. “Yeah, nothing says excitement like a safe choice.”
Gojo pointed a dramatic finger at him. “I don’t need your judgment, Suguru.”
“Not jealous,” he muttered. “Just… not that hungry anymore.”
Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
You, however, nudged his arm lightly. “Gojo, you literally ordered the biggest bowl on the menu.”
He glanced at you, blue eyes flickering with something unreadable for a second before he shrugged. “Guess my appetite’s smaller than I thought.”
Lies.
Gojo always ate like he had a bottomless pit for a stomach. But tonight, the food tasted a little bland.
Geto leaned back in his seat, watching him carefully. He didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers tapped lightly against the table made it clear he noticed the shift.
For the rest of the meal, Gojo stayed a little quieter than usual, only half-listening as you and Geto talked. He didn’t make a fuss. Didn’t push the usual playful banter. But every now and then, his gaze would flicker toward Geto, then back to you. And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, He was already too late.
Geto just smiled, relaxed and confident as ever. He didn’t need to gloat, Gojo was already riled up enough for the both of them.
Across the table, Shoko stretched her arms over her head, looking just about done with the two of them. “Alright, children. Eat your food before the shop kicks us out.”
Gojo grumbled under his breath before finally taking an actual bite of his ramen. But as he chewed, he glanced at Geto, then at you, and then back at Geto. He didn’t say anything. But in the back of his mind, he was already planning his next move.
——
The streets were quieter now, the distant hum of the city fading as the four of you made your way back to Jujutsu High. The crisp night air nipped at your skin, but the warmth of the ramen shop still clung to you, the scent of broth and grilled meat lingering in your clothes.
It should have been a perfect night. A rare one, even. Just the four of you, no missions, no training, no looming sense of responsibility. But despite the easy conversation and the comfortable rhythm of your walk, something felt… off. Or maybe different was the better word.
You weren’t sure when you started noticing it. Maybe it was back at the ramen shop, or maybe even earlier at the arcade, but the feeling had been creeping up on you all night, just subtle enough to ignore, until now.
Geto had always been smooth. Confident in a way that never felt overdone, just natural. He had a way of making things seem effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. But tonight, there was something pointed about it. The way he leaned in just a little closer, the way he found reasons to keep the conversation between just the two of you, the way his gaze lingered a second too long.
And then there was Gojo. Normally, he’d be the loudest one here, cracking jokes, making everything a competition, dragging all the attention toward himself like it was second nature. But tonight?
Tonight, he’d been different too.
Quieter. A little distant. He still teased, still complained, but there was something off about it. Like his heart wasn’t really in it.
You stole a glance back at him. He was trailing just a step behind, hands buried deep in his pockets, his usual long strides feeling slower, heavier. His shoulders were set, his jaw tight—like he was thinking too hard about something he didn’t want to say. It made something in your chest twist.
“Cold?”
You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. Geto’s voice was low, even, pulling you back to the present.
“Huh?”
“It’s chilly,” he said, already shrugging off his jacket. “Here.”
“Oh, I’m fine—”
“Just take it.” His tone left little room for argument as he draped the jacket over your shoulders before you could protest, his fingers grazing lightly against your collarbone. Your breath hitched. Geto was always like this, thoughtful in a way that felt effortless, like he didn’t even have to think about it you try to rationalize to yourself.
“…Thanks,” you murmured, fingers instinctively curling around the fabric.
He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kept walking beside you. His pace was steady, close but not too close, just enough that your arms brushed every now and then—not quite accidental, but not completely intentional either.
It was the kind of thing you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about—if it weren’t for the way Gojo had gone completely silent behind you.
You glanced back again.
Gojo’s expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was still fidgeting with the plush keychain you’d won for him earlier, rolling it between his fingers, his grip just a little too tight. Something about the sight made your stomach sink.
“Shortcut?”
Shoko’s voice broke the tension, casual and lazy as she stretched her arms over her head.
Gojo barely hesitated. “Yeah, same.” His voice was flat.
You blinked. “Shortcut?”
Shoko gestured to a narrow side path. “Cuts the walk down. Bit of an uphill climb, but faster.”
“But it sucks,” Geto pointed out, unimpressed. “Too steep.”
She shrugged. “Worth it.” Then she turned to you and Geto, smirking. “Guess you two are taking the scenic route, huh?”
Your face immediately went warm. “That’s not—”
“Later,” she cut you off with a lazy wave, already tugging Gojo along.
You barely caught a glimpse of his face before he turned away. But for a second. Just a second. his eyes flickered toward you, something unreadable behind them. Like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.
Instead, he let himself be pulled along, following Shoko without another word. Just the Two of You. The silence left in their absence felt heavier than it should have.
“Guess it’s just us,” Geto said lightly, casting a glance at you.
You huffed, still flustered. “Shoko says stuff just to mess with people, you know.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. But… she’s usually not wrong.”
Your stomach did a weird little flip.
“What?” you blurted out, a little too quick.
Geto didn’t answer right away. He just smiled to himself, looking ahead like he knew something you didn’t. Your thoughts tangled together, a mess of contradictions. Gojo had been off tonight. And Geto was acting just different enough that you couldn’t ignore it.
It made something in your chest tighten. They were your friends. You weren’t supposed to overthink things like this. But something was changing. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.
The rhythmic sound of your footsteps filled the silence between you. The campus was still a ways off, the path stretching ahead of you under the glow of streetlights. “…Did you have fun tonight?” Geto’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing edge.
You hesitated. “…Yeah. Did you?”
He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “More than I expected to.”
There was something about the way he said it that made your pulse jump.
You looked away, focusing on the ground ahead of you. “…You want this back?” you asked, shifting under the weight of his jacket.
He shook his head easily. “Nah. Looks better on you.”
Your face felt warm despite the cool air.
“So,” Geto broke the quiet, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “You really gonna make me carry this whole conversation by myself?”
You shot him a look. “You’re the one who insists on talking all the time.”
He grinned. “Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”
You scoffed. “Oh, right. Because I’m just so boring.”
“Didn’t say that.” His tone was teasing, but his gaze flickered over to you with something unreadable. “Just quiet.”
You huffed. “I can be fun.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow, intrigued. “Prove it.”
You squinted at him. “What, you want me to juggle or something?”
“That’d be a start.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Uh… okay, did I ever tell you about the time I completely humiliated myself in front of Mei Mei?”
His eyes lit up. “No, but I already know this is gonna be good.”
You groaned, shaking your head. “It was awful. I was helping her carry some stuff, right? Trying to be useful. But I tripped on absolutely nothing, flailed like a total idiot, and somehow managed to launch her entire stack of training manuals across the courtyard.”
Geto let out a loud laugh. “No way.”
“Oh, it gets worse. Instead of, I don’t know, getting up with some dignity, I just laid there for a second. Mei Mei didn’t even say anything, she just stared at me like she was trying to figure out if I was a lost cause.”
“That sounds like her.”
“I still don’t know if she was more disappointed or just impressed by how thoroughly I managed to embarrass myself.”
Geto was still grinning. “That’s beautiful. I wish I’d been there.”
“See? I am fun,” you said triumphantly.
He hummed, tilting his head in consideration. “I don’t know. That sounds less like ‘fun’ and more like ‘chronic bad luck.’”
You smacked his arm. “Oh, shut up.”
He just laughed, rubbing the spot like you’d actually hurt him. “Okay, okay. You win. You’re fun.”
“Damn right I am.”
You were both smiling now, the warmth of the moment making the chilly night air feel insignificant.
“…You should laugh more,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter.
You blinked at him. “Huh?”
He shrugged, looking ahead. “Just saying. It suits you.”
Your stomach flipped again, but this time, you didn’t push the feeling away.
Instead, you just shook your head with a soft chuckle. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Not a chance.” He flashed you a grin, his steps falling just a little closer to yours.
The rest of the walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just charged in a way you weren’t used to.
By the time you reached the school gates, your thoughts were a mess.
The weight of Geto’s jacket still lingered on your shoulders.
somewhere in the back of your mind, Gojo’s silence stuck with you in a way you didn’t quite understand.Something was changing and you had no idea what to do about it.
The school grounds were quiet at this hour, the faint hum of the cicadas in the trees the only sound filling the night air. Most of the students had long since gone to sleep, the dorms dark and still, but you and Geto lingered by the entrance, neither of you quite ready to part ways just yet.
You shifted the jacket draped over your shoulders, acutely aware of its warmth, of the faint scent of Geto’s cologne still clinging to the fabric.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Geto’s voice broke the silence, amused.
You blinked, glancing at him. “Huh?”
He smirked. “You get this little crease in your brow when you’re overthinking something.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I do not.”
“You do,” he insisted, tapping a finger to your forehead in demonstration. “Right here. Deep in thought. Probably overanalyzing everything that happened tonight.”
Your stomach flipped.
You were overthinking it. Overthinking him. Overthinking Gojo, and the weird tension that had lingered between the three of you all night. Geto must have noticed the way your expression shifted, because his smirk softened.
“…You good?” he asked, quieter now.
You hesitated.
You could play it off, pretend everything was fine. But part of you, maybe the part still rattled by the way tonight felt different, didn’t want to.
“…Do you think Gojo’s mad at me?” The words slipped out before you could second guess
them. Geto’s expression didn’t change, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched at his sides.
“No,” he said simply.
You frowned. “Then why was he acting so weird?”
Geto exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.”
You huffed. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give you,” Geto said, looking at you now, gaze steady. “Whatever’s going on with Gojo, it’s not my place to say.”
That definitely meant something.
You stared at him, searching for some kind of hint, but Geto just smiled, unreadable as ever.
Before you could press further, a voice cut through the quiet.
“You guys are still out here?”
You turned, and there he was Gojo, standing a few feet away, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his uniform. He must have circled back at some point, because Shoko was nowhere to be seen.
For a split second, his gaze flickered to the jacket on your shoulders. His fingers tightened around the plush keychain in his hand.
“…You took a while ?” he asked, voice light, but there was something off about it.
You swallowed. “Uh. No. We just walked and talked.”
Gojo nodded, like that answer was expected, but the sharp edge in his expression didn’t ease.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” you said, attempting to ignore the strange tension between the three of you.
Gojo just shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, well. I was gonna be real mad if you got kidnapped before I had the chance to make fun of you tomorrow.”
You rolled your eyes. “Touching.”
But there was something about the way he said it that made your chest feel tight.
The three of you stood there for a moment, the silence thick between you and then Geto, ever the smooth one, clapped his hands together. “Well. It’s late,” he said easily. “We should probably get inside before Yaga yells at us.”
You nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted.
Gojo said nothing. Geto turned toward the dorms, his stride unhurried. But just before he walked past Gojo, he slowed just enough to murmur something under his breath.
You didn’t catch it. But whatever it was made Gojo’s jaw tighten. You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. You could feel whatever was happening here, unspoken and heavy, and it made something in you twist.
“…Night,” you said finally, the weight of the day settling over you.
Geto smiled, easy and warm. “Night.”
Gojo just nodded, but his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure what to make of that. As you finally turned to head inside, the weight of Geto’s jacket still on your shoulders, you had the distinct feeling that tonight had changed something.
.
.
Geto: I like your laugh😽
You: Chat is this rizz !?!
Geto: you just ruined it
Geto: we were having a moment
You: Chat am I cooked?
Geto: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TOO RIGHT NOW
You: chat clip that
.
🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐
.
Gojo: can i try rizzing you up
You: sure
Gojo : PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
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Taglist: @inthedarkshadows000
Reply to the masterlist if you want to be added to the taglist!!!!!
Present Mic / Hizashi Yamada x Reader
⋆˚✿˖°Irresistible ⋆˚✿˖°
BACK TO HIM DATING A YOUNGER READER!! hes just so lovely, we are married actually.
Being back at U.A. always felt a little surreal. No matter how many years had passed since your time as a student, the halls still carried the same energy, the same excitement, the same faint scent of ink and sweat, the same distant shouts of students causing trouble. It was nostalgic, sure, but today, you weren’t here as a student.
You’d agreed to be a guest speaker at U.A. today, mainly to share your experience as a Pro Hero with the students. It was a bit of a casual visit, with no intense expectations, just a way to inspire the next generation of heroes. Of course, Hizashi, Present Mic was assigned to show you around for the day.
Today, you were here as Pro Hero: Lumine, a guest for the day. Still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t steal a moment for yourself.
As you walked the halls, Hizashi right beside you, you kept up the act, casual, professional. You were here to speak to a few classes, answer some questions, maybe help out with some training. But right now, with no students or teachers in sight, you saw an opportunity.
You grabbed Hizashi’s wrist and pulled him around a quiet corner, just out of sight.
“Whoa babe?” he blinked, confused for a second, before a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “Miss me already?”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “You know I don’t get to see you much when I’m busy with work.”
His grin softened. “Yeah… I know.”
You let your hands rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was rare for the two of you to have moments like this. where the world outside didn’t demand your attention, where you weren’t constantly on duty, where you weren’t Pro Hero Lumine and Present Mic but just… y/n and hizashi.
Hizashi leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his voice quieter than usual. “You sure we got time for this?”
“Barely,” you admitted. “But I’ll take what I can get.”
He chuckled, sliding his arms around your waist. “Y’know, you’re gettin’ real bold. Pullin’ me into a corner like some kinda secret rendezvous.”
You smirked. “What can I say? I see a tall blonde guy and my mind goes dumb”
“Really now, huh?” His voice dropped just a little, teasing. “So if I kissed you right now, would that be too exciting?”
You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm… depends. Are you gonna be able to keep your voice down?”
“Oh, babe,” he grinned, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your lips. “That’s a real big ask.”
You huffed a laugh before finally closing the distance, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against his lips. Hizashi hummed in contentment, pulling you closer as if he could somehow make the moment last longer.
But the sound of voices approaching had you both reluctantly pulling apart. He sighed dramatically. “Duty calls, huh?”
“Duty calls,” you echoed, straightening his tie playfully. “Try not to look too lovestruck, yeah?”
“Pfft—too late for that, babe.” He winked before stepping back, adjusting his glasses like nothing had happened. But you caught the way his fingers brushed his lips, as if memorizing the feeling.
With one last glance, you turned the corner together back to being professionals, back to your roles, back to the world outside of this stolen moment. But as you stepped into the light, you knew you’d both be thinking about it all day. Though Hizashi kept up his usual energy as he led you through the halls, chatting away as he pointed out minor changes to the school since your time as a student. The occasional student would recognize you, whispering excitedly to their friends, but no one interrupted. Not yet, anyway.
Eventually, you both reached Class 1-A’s door. Hizashi grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Ready to meet the little hero’s ?”
You huffed a small laugh. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” Then, without missing a beat, he flung the door open and practically bounced into the room. “YEAHHHH! WHAT’S UP, CLASS 1-A?! GUESS WHO I BROUGHT?” a collective gasp followed.
“Wait! that’s Pro Hero Lumine!”
“No way! They’re here?”
“Whoa, they’re so cool in person!”
Hizashi gestured toward you with a dramatic flourish. “That’s riiiiight! The one and only Lumine!” He shot you a look, and you barely held back a smirk.
Aizawa, standing at the front of the class, gave you both a blank stare, then sighed. “I assume you’re not just here to disrupt my class?”
“Aw, c’mon, Eraser, you know we had a guest today!!” Hizashi had a tragic frown on his face. “Lumine here is our guest speaker, remember?”
Aizawa raised a brow at you, and you simply shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride at this point.”
As you stepped forward, Hizashi continued, “Now, listen up, kiddos! Not only is Lumine one of the youngest Top 10 heroes—”
“—he’s really over explaining right now,” you interjected.
“—BUT!” Hizashi continued dramatically, ignoring your interruption, “they also happen to be my—”
You stiffened. Your what?
Luckily (or unluckily), Aizawa cut in smoothly, “Your former student. Yes, we’re aware.”
Hizashi blinked, then coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, yeah, my former student. That’s what I was gonna say.”
The students exchanged looks. Some, like Kaminari and Mina, were eyeing you both very suspiciously.
Mina leaned forward, grinning. “Ooooh, that pause was kinda weird, wasn’t it?”
Kaminari elbowed her. “Right? Like, what was he actually gonna say?”
“Probably something embarrassing,” Jirou muttered, smirking.
You shot Hizashi a look. Really? He gave you a sheepish smile in return. Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we move on?”
You cleared your throat, stepping in to refocus the room. “Right! Anyway, I’m here to answer any questions you have about being a pro hero. So—”
But before you could finish, Kaminari blurted, “How do you know Present Mic so well?”
The whole class leaned in, clearly interested. You deadpanned. “We go way back.”
“How far back?” Mina grinned.
Aizawa sighed. “This isn’t relevant.”
“But it’s interesting!” Mina shot back.
Hizashi, bless him, was absolutely not helping, just standing there grinning like an idiot. You exhaled through your nose, crossing your arms. “Far enough that I have plenty of embarrassing stories about him, but not enough time to share them all.”
The class erupted.
“Oh, we need to hear those!”
“Please tell us at least one!”
You shot Hizashi a look, and he gave you an exaggerated shrug, eyes sparkling with joy.
—-
After the class, as the students trickled out, you turned to Hizashi with a pointed look. “You’re doing a terrible job at hiding our relationship.”
He grinned, entirely unapologetic. “Oh c’mon, babe. You look real cute when you’re flustered.”
You rolled your eyes, but before you could leave, he caught your wrist, fingers warm against your skin.
“Hey.” His voice was quieter now, softer, missing its usual booming energy. He glanced at the empty classroom, then back at you. There was something unreadable in his expression, something almost hesitant. “Got a sec?”
You hesitated, Nezu had mentioned stopping by to check in on you, and you really should be heading to the next class but the way Hizashi’s fingers brushed over yours made it hard to say no.
“…Fine. But just a sec.”
Hizashi wasted no time, tugging you toward the classroom’s small storage area, pulling the door shut behind you. The space was tight, barely enough room for the two of you, and the moment you were alone, his hands found your waist, pulling you in close.
His voice dropped lower, rougher. “You drive me crazy, y’know that?” His thumb brushed over the fabric of your uniform, slow, deliberate. “Havin’ to watch you all day and not kiss you?”
You smirked, fingers slipping up his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. “Must be so hard for you.”
“You have no idea.”
Then his lips were on yours urgent and deep, like he was making up for lost time. You barely had a second to react before you were melting into it, tilting your head to let him kiss you deeper. His hands slid up your back, one trailing to cup the back of your neck while the other stayed firm on your waist, keeping you pressed against him.
The kiss started slow, teasing, but it didn’t stay that way. The pent up energy from the entire day the lingering touches, the stolen glances, the way he had to hold back in front of the students spilled over into something more intense. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he let out a quiet groan against your lips, the sound vibrating in his chest.
“Babe,” he murmured between kisses, “you’re killin’ me here.”
You smirked against his lips. “You started it.”
Hizashi let out a breathy chuckle, then dipped his head lower, lips trailing down your jaw, then to your neck. The scrape of his teeth against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and your grip on him tightened.
“This is such a bad idea,” you whispered, tilting your head back to give him better access.
“Yeah?” His breath was warm against your throat. “Then why aren’t you stoppin’ me?”
You swallowed hard, knowing he had a point. “Because,” you admitted, fingers slipping up to to the back of his neck, “I missed you.”
That made him pause. Just for a second. Then he let out a quiet sigh, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before leaning back just enough to look at you.
“I missed you too,” he murmured, voice softer now, more serious. His fingers brushed against your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “You’re always runnin’ around, savin’ the world, bein’ a top hero and all. Feels like I barely get time with you anymore.”
You exhaled, hands resting against his chest. “I know. I feel it too.”
For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, in that small, dimly lit space, his arms around you, your bodies still close, the world outside feeling miles away.
Hizashi’s fingers slid down your arms, his grip tightening around your hands. “Maybe after this, we ditch early. Get some real time together.”
You smiled. “You suggesting we cut class, Yamada?”
He grinned, pressing another kiss to the corner of your lips. “A little. Say you had to go save someone and take me with you”
You hummed, pretending to consider it. “Tempting.”
Before either of you could decide, a voice shattered the quiet. “You do realize this school has cameras, right?”
You both froze. Slowly, you turned to see Aizawa standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed.
Hizashi, ever the professional, cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, casually stepping away from you like that would somehow erase what just happened. “Hey, Eraser! How long you been standin’ there, buddy?”
“Long enough.”
You exhaled sharply. “Fantastic.”
Aizawa gave you both a long, pointed look, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “Just… keep it out of the classrooms.” Then, shaking his head, he walked away.
As soon as he was gone, Hizashi turned to you with a grin. “Welp. Busted.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I told you we’d get caught.”
Hizashi just laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Worth it.”
:0
Batfamily X Batmom!Reader
⁺‧₊˚My Sons Boyfriend⁺‧₊˚
Continuing my tim appreciation, Have a silly overprotective parents to one of their youngest kid
masterlist
Jason tattles that his younger brother has a boy over.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ The TV played some noir film neither of you were paying attention to black and white shadows flickering across the screen, the occasional husky voice of a detective muttering something about dames and danger. It was background noise. Everything was background noise right now.
Your back arched against the couch as Bruce’s lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously along your skin. You let out a soft, breathy laugh, tangled up in him, your knees bracketing his hips while his large hands gripped your thighs beneath the hem of your oversized shirt.
His tongue slid against yours again, deep and slow, and the kiss had long since lost any sense of restraint. You tugged at his shirt, fingers skimming up beneath it, palms exploring every inch of familiar skin. Bruce growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling against your lips as he leaned further into you, pressing you back until your spine met the couch cushions with a soft thump.
There were no patrols, no emergency calls, no villains trying to blow up the city and a damn good excuse to indulge in weeks of pent up affection with no one around to ruin it.
“What the fuck?!”
A voice cracked through the air like a gunshot, and both of you froze mid kiss, mouths still a breath apart, panting and flushed. Well no one around to ruin might not work if you have a Jason Todd for a child (even though hes an adult it still applies).
You didn’t even turn around.
“It’s a lazy day,” you said flatly, lips still swollen, one hand still fisted in Bruce’s shirt. “Go away.”
Jason’s voice rose another octave, and you could hear the trauma in it. “Are you two seriously making out like that on the living room couch? In the middle of the day?! seriously making out like teenagers right now?! I’ve seen less tongue in French films!”
You rolled your eyes and finally sat up, sliding off Bruce’s lap with a groan and adjusting your shirt though it didn’t help much. Bruce just rubbed at his face with one hand, exhaling through his nose like a man trying not to start swearing. Jason stormed around the couch, eyes narrowed, nose wrinkled. “You were all over each other! That was full on pre bedroom behavior!”
“Which we would’ve moved to,” you muttered, “we only do stuff out here when you guys for sure aren’t.”
“TMI LADY!! I live here!”
“So do we.”
“I grew up here! Do you know how many times I’ve had to walk in on emotionally scarring things? And now I have to add this to the list?”
You gave him a pointed look and gestured vaguely to Bruce, who was still slouched and half hard under the sweatpants. “You’re twenty something and you’ve walked in on worse. Remember the time you accidentally opened the panic room during our anniversary trip?”
Jason gagged. “Why would you bring that up?! I had finally repressed it!”
You shrugged, completely unfazed. “That’s why I didn’t jump out of my skin when you yelled. You’re one of the oldest. You’re basically numb to it by now.”
“That’s not how trauma works!”
“You’ll live.”
Bruce finally stood, setting a firm hand on your lower back as he stepped forward. “Did you interrupt just to complain, or is there a point?”
“Oh, there’s a point,” Jason said, smirking now, even as he pointedly avoided making eye contact with either of you. “Tim’s upstairs. With Conner. Door closed. Voices low. Lots of awkward pauses and ‘I dunno, what do you wanna do?’s. Figured someone with authority should stop it before I need a bleach rinse for my brain again.”
You and Bruce exchanged a glance. You raised a brow. “You think they’re…?”
“I’m just saying, I’m not doing the awkward sex talk with either of them. That’s your job.”
Bruce sighed through his nose again, rubbing his temples. “We should’ve eloped in Fiji.”
Jason clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “You should’ve invested in a deadbolt and soundproof walls. You’ve got like fifty rooms. Go be gross in literally any other one.”
Bruce groaned, sitting up with the pained weariness of a man who just wanted five uninterrupted minutes with his partner. “I don’t know what’s worse,” he muttered. “You barging in, or the fact that you’re tattling like a six year old.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You can ground me later. But someone needs to knock before that kid goes full hormonal teenager with Superman’s clone.”
You rubbed your temples and slid off Bruce’s lap. “Can’t we just go one day without something weird happening in this house?”
“Nope,” Jason chirped.
Bruce stood, adjusting his shirt and shooting Jason a tired glare. “You’re not getting a thank you for this.”
Jason grinned. “I’ll settle for watching the fallout.”
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
The carpet was soft beneath your knees as you crouched near the top of the staircase, one hand gripping the railing and the other latched around your husband’s wrist. Bruce was not thrilled. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, towering behind you in full grumpy dad form.
You shushed him. “Shh. This is important. Our son is dating.”
Bruce arched an eyebrow. “He’s not a child anymore.”
You gasped loudly and dramatically, a feeling attune like he’d just slapped you with a divorce paper. “How dare you say that to a mother’s face.”
“I feel like as a mother you should be letting him have space” he whispered dryly.
“It’s anything and everything for my baby,” you whispered back, “heartbroken.”
Bruce sighed, letting you pull him forward like some six foot tall human leash. He followed behind you, slouched and sulking like a teenager being dragged into a parent teacher conference. But he didn’t resist. Not really. At the end of the hallway, just far enough not to be heard but perfectly in view, Tim was standing awkwardly with his shoulder slightly bumping against the wall, halfway through some rambling sentence that didn’t seem to have an end. Across from him leaned Conner Kent Superboy himself smiling with the easy, confident charm of someone who knew exactly how good he looked.
You gasped again, softer this time. “He’s so nervous. Look at him. Our baby…”
“Don’t start crying,” Bruce warned.
“He’s got no game, Bruce.”
Bruce squinted. “…This is objectively better than his brothers.”
You nearly cackled. “Low bar, sweetheart.”
Tim fumbled again, scratching the back of his neck while trying to not look directly at Conner. Conner leaned in just slightly, arms crossed as he nodded along, totally relaxed. He said something with a grin, and Tim laughed clearly too loud, then looked down at the floor in horror.
You sniffled, eyes shimmering. “Look at our baby flirting…”
“He’s not a baby,” Bruce said, though his voice was quieter now. “He’s nearly eighteen.” And yet, he leaned a little more over your shoulder.
You smirked. “You’re watching.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re parenting.”
Bruce sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, crossing his arms as he stared harder at the two teens.
“What’s Kent’s clone doing here alone with him anyways?” he muttered, eyes narrowing.
“Ohhh,” you grinned, “now you care.”
“Of course I care,” Bruce snapped, more defensive than he meant to be. “That’s my kid.”
You nudged him with your elbow, whispering proudly, “Our kid.”
He didn’t respond to that but the corner of his mouth twitched. Down the hall, Conner leaned in and brushed something off Tim’s shirt something that wasn’t there. Tim went red, practically short circuiting.
Bruce straightened immediately. “Okay. That’s enough recon.”
“Oh, now it’s enough?”
“I’m getting my Batarangs.”
You caught his wrist before he could march off. “No. No Batarangs. No Bat glare. You said he’s not a baby, remember?”
“He wasn’t getting flirted with then.”
You snorted, still holding his arm. “I think your overprotective thing is hot.”
He paused. “That a fact?”
You smirked, glancing back toward your bedroom door. “Yes. Now let’s go back to our room lights off, no clothes, door locked this time and let the kids be kids.”
Bruce gave Tim and Conner one last skeptical look, then sighed. “If they start kissing, I’m interrupting.”
“No you won’t,” you said, dragging him back down the hall by the wrist again. “Because I’ll be too busy making out with you to let you get up.”
Despite that, the minute you headed to the room. Conner and Tim were happily walking towards the kitchen. making you drag your husband again to watch your boy. The kitchen was dimly lit, the only real noise coming from the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of snack bags. You and Bruce had found your new favorite spot behind the kitchen island, crouching low and trying your best not to make a sound, despite the undeniable excitement of spying on your son.
You had your phone held up, recording through the cabinet doors like a proud wildlife documentarian. Tim and Conner were in the next room, chattering nervously while they raided the pantry for snacks.
Bruce was less than impressed with the situation. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, glaring at you as if you were the one causing trouble.
You smirked, eyes never leaving the scene unfolding in the next room. “I practically raised him. I have the right to witness his first love.”
He grunted, his voice tinged with mild exasperation. “You’re literally crouched next to the coffee machine whispering commentary like it’s National Geographic.”
You held your phone at a slightly different angle, zooming in on Tim as he fumbled with a bag of chips. “And you’re crouched next to me, so what does that make you?”
Bruce looked at you, deadpan. “An unwilling accomplice.”
You shot him a look, trying not to giggle as you saw Tim’s hand hover uncertainly over a box of cookies while Conner casually leaned against the counter, looking way too smooth for someone who was probably still a teenager.
“Conner’s definitely a pro at this,” you whispered, shaking your head in amused disbelief. “Look at him, just leaning there. Like it’s nothing what if he just wants to play woth out boys feelings.”
Bruce sighed dramatically but didn’t move. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“This is serious, Bruce. It’s parental responsibility.”
Bruce looked at you, his eyes softening. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Yeah, well, you love me.” You raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’ve got a lot of regrets today,” he muttered, but his hand brushed against yours in the dim light, soft and reassuring. Just as you were about to comment on Tim’s awkward attempt at getting a cookie into his mouth without looking too desperate, the kitchen door swung open with a familiar creak.
“Are you spying on Tim?” Dick’s voice rang through the space, sharp and amused.
Both you and Bruce froze, immediately making eye contact in a way that could only be described as a guilty deer caught in headlights moment.
Bruce was the first to recover. He straightened up quickly, stepping away from the island and crossing his arms like he was trying to physically distance himself from the ridiculousness of it all. “No,” he said instantly, as if the word would somehow erase the whole scene.
You, on the other hand, didn’t try to hide it. You looked up at Dick with wide, unapologetic eyes. “Yes,” you said, shrugging as though this was completely normal behavior for a concerned parent.
Dick raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe with a smug grin. “You guys are so lame.”
You grinned back, unbothered by his teasing. “You think we’re lame, but when you’re a parent, you’ll understand.”
Bruce, clearly not keen on the whole ordeal, shot a look at Tim and Conner through the kitchen entryway. “I’m just making sure he’s not making any… stupid decisions.”
“Right.” Dick’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Because you’re both really qualified for that.”
You shot him a sideways glance. “Hey, we did the best we could. And this is where you come in. Don’t think I didn’t see you sneak a peek when you thought we weren’t looking.”
Dick’s eyes widened for a second before he cracked a grin. “You two are hopeless.” He turned his attention back to the other room. “What are they even doing, anyway?”
You and Bruce both turned to look through the cabinets again, slightly distracted now that Dick was standing right there. Tim was holding a cookie out to Conner, his fingers trembling slightly, and Conner took it with a grin that could melt even the iciest heart.
“He’s handing Conner a cookie,” you said, your voice dripping with awe and mild concern. “A cookie. They’re not even talking about something deep or meaningful, like… I don’t know, saving Gotham or discussing conspiracy theories. It’s literally just this.”
Dick raised an eyebrow again, his grin widening. “You’re really invested in this?”
Bruce was rubbing the back of his neck, clearly torn between indulging your parental instincts and the embarrassment of being caught in such an absurd situation. “Yeah, we’re not stalking them. Just… observing.”
Dick snorted. “Sure, sure. Watching them like they’re some rare, endangered species.”
You looked at him deadpan. “They are.”
Bruce cleared his throat. “Look, we’ll stop when they stop… getting… weird.”
Dick gave the two of you an incredulous look. “You two are so ridiculous. Seriously.”
And with that, Dick pushed past you both to head upstairs, but not before he paused to make one last comment.
“If I ever catch you two creeping on me like this, I’ll start a family group chat called ‘Creepy Parents.’”
You and Bruce exchanged an amused glance. “We’ll take that risk,” you said,
Dick groaned, clearly not interested in sticking around for the ridiculousness, and disappeared upstairs.
You looked back at Bruce, who was still watching Tim and Conner, now in full parental protective mode. His brows were furrowed, a slight frown tugging at his lips.
“I guess we’re just going to wait this out?” you asked softly, leaning against the island.
Bruce nodded, but his tone was softer now, full of that deep, unspoken love only a parent could understand. “Yeah. But we need to be the ones to have that talk when they’re ready.”
You smiled, leaning into him, the whole world feeling a little less chaotic, even if the kids’ drama would never stop.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
Tim and Conner were sitting at the kitchen table now, their snack raid completed, with Conner casually leaning back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the seat across from him. Tim, on the other hand, was picking at his cookie, his eyes occasionally flicking nervously around the room.
Conner noticed Tim’s unease and raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Drake?”
Tim cleared his throat, his gaze shifting quickly toward the hallway, and then back to Conner, hoping his casual demeanor would mask the slight panic he felt. “Uh, no, everything’s fine.”
Conner smirked knowingly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You sure about that? ‘Cause I can’t help but notice your… parents have been acting a little weird.”
Tim froze. His heart rate quickened as the words hit him. He blinked at Conner, unsure if he’d heard him right. “What?”
“You know, they’ve been hanging around for a while,” Conner said, a slight laugh escaping his lips. “I can’t believe they’re still hiding behind the kitchen island.”
Tim’s face went white, of course he noticed it. his eyes darted toward the kitchen counter, his heart sinking into his stomach. His parents… They had been watching this whole time. He quickly looked away, pretending he hadn’t heard anything, his eyes shifting uncomfortably as if he could pretend that the observation had never been made. “You’re imagining things.”
Conner raised an eyebrow. “Right,” he said, unconvinced. “Maybe I am.”
But before Tim could settle into any sense of relief, he couldn’t help himself. His eyes glanced toward the cabinets, toward the hidden space behind the island where his parents had been crouched like secret agents, but the moment he saw something shift in the shadows, he quickly turned his head away. A blush spread across his cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and frustration bubbling up inside him.
He heard a muffled whisper coming from the kitchen, the faintest sound of your voice saying, “Do you think they noticed?”
His heart skipped. He knew they were there. He immediately looked back at Conner, who was now wearing an almost triumphant smirk, clearly enjoying this entire awkward exchange.
Tim’s face reddened even further. “Ugh, I hate you.”
Conner’s grin widened, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying the chaos Tim was going through. “your family is so weird”
Tim just buried his face in his hands for a second, trying to collect himself. It didn’t help that he could hear the whispering getting louder, still faint, but unmistakable. “No way. I think they didn’t notice. Maybe we can sneak away after they leave…”
“We?” Tim thought he heard Bruce’s voice this time. It made him stiffen.
His face was now a bright red, and he buried his face further into his arms, hoping it might all just go away. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, his pulse racing. This was so embarrassing. Why couldn’t they have just left him alone? Why did his parents have to be so… so overly protective?
As his embarrassment grew, Tim stole another quick glance at the kitchen, only to see a shadow dart behind the cabinets. His stomach flipped, and he quickly turned away, biting his lip to keep from saying something he’d regret.
Conner’s eyes were sharp. “Yeah… they totally noticed,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You’re lucky I’m cool with this. You’re lucky I didn’t go tell them they’ve been caught. That would’ve been funny.”
“Conner, shut up!” Tim hissed, but the laughter that followed didn’t make it any better.
Somewhere from behind the cabinets, you whispered again, louder this time, “Maybe they’ll pretend they didn’t see us.”
Bruce’s voice was closer to a growl. “We’re being subtle, right?”
Tim’s body stiffened again, but this time he was ready. He shot up from his chair and took a deep breath. There was no going back now. “I’m going upstairs. You’re all insane.”
Conner chuckled, watching him go, clearly having the time of his life while Tim fumbled his way toward the hallway.
As Tim rushed out of the room, trying to hide the heat in his cheeks, you and Bruce exchanged a glance from your hiding spot, then reluctantly peeked around the corner to make sure your son had left the kitchen.
“We should’ve just went in our room,” you muttered, sounding almost defeated.
Bruce nodded, glancing up at you. “This is why I wanted to go back to the room.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And you couldn’t let that go?”
Bruce sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we’ve been caught so many times.”
“But it’s worth it, right?” You flashed a teasing grin at him, clearly finding amusement in the awkwardness.
Bruce didn’t respond immediately, but he didn’t move either. He just kept watching the empty kitchen, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
Finally, he said, “I’d still rather be making out with you right now.”
You grinned. “One thing at a time, Bruce. One thing at a time.”
Bruce didn’t waste a second. The moment the last of Tim’s and conner’s footsteps faded up the stairs, he was on his feet, his usual quiet intensity shifting into something more playful albeit with a touch of authority.
Without a word, he moved toward you, his hand reaching for your wrist. Before you could even fully register his intent, he pulled you into his chest, his other hand gently cupping your chin as he tilted your face up to meet his. His lips were almost on yours, just inches apart, but he hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if savoring the moment.
“As much fun as that was,” he said in a low, husky tone, his voice thick with amusement, “it’s time for mommy and daddy time.”
Your heart skipped. You had to admit, despite the awkwardness of everything that just happened, the sudden shift in Bruce’s demeanor made your pulse spike. The playful tension in the air was thick enough to cut through. You could see the flicker of mischief in his eyes.
“Bruce…” you whispered, half trying to resist, half already giving in.
“Our boy will be fine” His voice was low, but there was a firm edge to it, a reminder that your playful surveillance time had come to an end. “You and me. Upstairs. Now.”
Before you could protest or offer some sarcastic response, he was already guiding you away from the kitchen island, his hand firm around your wrist. The way his grip tightened made it clear he wasn’t going to take no for an answer not that you really wanted to resist.
“Bruce, we can’t just…” you started to say, but you were quickly cut off as he kissed you, his lips catching yours in a brief, but intense press that stole your breath away.
He pulled back just enough to murmur, “No more distractions. No more spying. Just us.”
You were about to make a snarky comment, but all the words caught in your throat when he pulled you against him again, his arms wrapping around your waist. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his strong frame seemed to draw you in closer.
“I’m not letting you get away that easily,” he said with a grin, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt, the playful glint in his eyes unmistakable.
Your breath caught as you felt his touch, suddenly aware of how much you’d been craving this intimate moment. The tension that had been building throughout the entire day between your kids, the spying, the ridiculousness was finally going to melt away, leaving just the two of you.
With a final, teasing smile, Bruce began leading you upstairs, his hand never leaving yours. The world outside your bedroom had faded into the background there was only him and you, and the quiet promise of some much needed time alone.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
Tim was lying face down on his bed, groaning into the sheets. If he could dig a hole and disappear into it, he would. He’d half expected his parents to hover maybe ask a few awkward questions. But full on mission mode surveillance? That was next level.
The door creaked open, and Tim didn’t even need to look to know who it was.
“I knew they were weird,” Conner’s voice came, all smug and sing songy. “But hiding behind the cabinets? thats weird.”
Tim rolled over with a groan, face still half buried in a pillow. “Can we not talk about it?”
Conner stepped in like he owned the place, casually flopping onto Tim’s bed with zero regard for personal space. “Dude, your mom was crouched like it was recon. I think she even whispered something about your ‘game.’ I’m emotionally scarred.”
Conner, of course, wasn’t far behind. He opened the door without knocking and stepped into the room, his usual easygoing grin plastered across his face. But there was something different in his eyes something softer. Maybe he was trying to ease the tension Tim was still feeling.
“You good?” Conner asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Tim turned his head just slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… I dunno, everything’s just kinda weird today.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Conner chuckled, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. It was more of an understanding one. “Your parents… they’re something else.”
Tim groaned and rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm. “Don’t remind me. I didn’t think they’d go full surveillance mode.”
Conner moved further into the room, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Well, they’re just looking out for you, you know? They’re probably a little overprotective, but… I mean, I guess I’d do the same thing if I were them.”
Tim half smiled at that, finally sitting up. “Yeah, but it’s a little much. I’m almost eighteen, not, like, seven.”
Conner gave him a side glance, his smile still there. “Right. You’re allowed to… y’know, have a life outside of your parents’ radar.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Tim muttered, but it wasn’t with annoyance more like he appreciated Conner’s effort to lighten the mood. Tim glanced at Conner, his mind wandering as it often did when he was around him. Something about the way Conner carried himself, the way he was always so relaxed, so at ease it was easy to get lost in.
Conner seemed to sense it, his voice dropping a little lower. “So, uh… are you sure it’s just your parents that’s got you flustered? Or is it… something else?”
Tim blinked at him, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
Conner leaned back against the headboard, looking over at him with a teasing smile. “I don’t know, just seems like you’ve got a lot going on in your head. And I mean, I did see how red your face was back there, so”
Tim immediately turned even more red. “Conner, I swear to God”
“Okay, okay, fine,” Conner laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t make it worse. But, uh… you do know you can talk to me, right?”
Tim let out a soft exhale, unsure of how to respond. He didn’t even realize how much he’d needed to hear that until now. “Yeah. I guess I just… didn’t want to make it weird.”
“Making it weird is kind of my thing,” Conner joked, but there was something reassuring about the way he said it like he wasn’t trying to force the conversation, but also wasn’t afraid to be open with him. Tim’s heart skipped a little at the casual warmth in Conner’s voice. He wasn’t sure if it was the way Conner was looking at him now, or just the comfort of knowing someone actually cared, but he found himself letting out a nervous laugh. “I’m definitely not the best at this… flirting thing. I’m just… I don’t know, overthinking it all.”
Conner’s eyes softened, and before Tim could protest, Conner slid closer on the bed. He nudged Tim’s shoulder lightly, his voice quieter now. “You don’t have to be perfect at it. I think you’re doing just fine.”
Tim froze, his pulse racing at the sudden closeness. “Wait, really?”
Conner smirked, but there was something genuine in his smile now. “Really. You’ve just gotta stop trying to be all… cool about it. Just be yourself. If someone can’t see how amazing you are, that’s their loss.”
Tim swallowed, trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. “You’re… you’re the worst, you know that?”
But Conner just laughed, the sound light and effortless. “I know. But you like me anyway.”
Tim bit his lip, trying not to smile too much, but there was no denying the way his heart was beating faster now. Conner had always been the one to tease him, to make him laugh when things were tough. But this this felt different. The way they were sitting there, so close, the unspoken understanding between them it was the kind of connection Tim hadn’t realized he was craving.
“Alright, alright,” Conner said, standing up and giving Tim a teasing grin, “I’ll leave you to think about that. But you know I’m here, if you wanna… talk or whatever.”
Tim nodded, his throat a little tight, but he didn’t know what to say. Conner’s easygoing presence had a way of putting him at ease, and for the first time in a while, Tim felt like he was starting to understand what it meant to really be seen by someone.
“Thanks, Conner,” Tim muttered, his voice soft.
Conner winked as he walked toward the door. “Anytime, small bird. Anytime.”
As the door clicked shut behind him, Tim sank back against the bed, his heart still racing, but now for a different reason.
Conner: So…
Tim: Please don’t.
Conner: Your parents have been following us for like… an hour. I swear I saw your mom dive behind a trash bin.
Tim: If I ignore it, maybe it’ll go away.
Reader, whispering from the kitchen: They didn’t see us.
Bruce, deadpan: They definitely saw us.
Nathan Prescott X Fem!Reader
The Rich Asshole . ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ
masterlist
So i have a few conflicting emotions when it comes to this character. from when i found the game I hated this guy. Though like most people there is an ounce of remorse that we feel for this character. However, my love for him is so conflicting because as much as he is a victim, he is the reason for what happened to rachel. Anyways here is my little story with my conflicting feelings. ALSO YOU CAN SAY HE ISN’T AT FAULT BUT HE IS. just because he was lead to these decisions does not mean he still didn’t do them.
“Fuck off, Prescott!” Your voice snapped down the hall, sharp enough to make a freshman nearly drop his textbooks.
Nathan, slouched against the lockers like he owned the goddamn place, gave a slow, mocking clap. “Wow. Real mature, (Y/L/N). You kiss your mommy with that mouth?” His tone was lazy, but his eyes pinned you like a bug to a wall.
You marched toward him, shoving your bag higher onto your shoulder. “I’d rather kiss a loaded shotgun than deal with your shit for the next two weeks.”
Nathan pushed off the locker with a sneer, standing tall. Taller than you, not that you’d ever admit it.
“Newsflash, bitch you think I wanna work with you?” he snapped, crumpling the project assignment sheet in his fist. “I’d rather fucking drown in a Porta Potty.”
You jabbed a finger into his chest a stupid move, because under all that overpriced denim and leather, he was solid muscle but you were way past giving a shit. “Then drop out, Prescott. No one would miss you.”
For a split second, something flickered in his eyes. You couldn’t tell because just as fast, he leaned in closer, face twisted in a sneer. “You’d miss me, sweetheart. You need someone to take your boring ass life up a notch.” His voice was low, practically a growl. “You’re so desperate for excitement you’ll probably fucking love having me around.”
“You’re delusional,” you spat, shoving past him.
But Nathan wasn’t done. He followed, keeping pace easily, his voice dropping into that dangerous, mocking tone he used when he wanted to pick someone apart. “Face it. You’re just pissed because you have to finally realized you’re not better than me.”
You whirled around, nearly slamming into his chest. “I am better than you,” you hissed, close enough to see the fine scars nicking the side of his jaw, the ones most people didn’t notice under the arrogant smirk. “I don’t have to buy my friends, or bribe my teachers ”
Nathan laughed, sharp and ugly. “Yeah? Keep telling yourself that, bitch. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”
The tension between you vibrated like a taut wire, ready to snap. Across the hall, Mr. Jefferson poked his head out of his classroom door. “Everything okay over there?”
You both spoke at the same time:
“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth.
“Peachy,” Nathan drawled with a fake grin.
Mr. Jefferson raised an eyebrow but disappeared back into the classroom without another word. Nathan turned back to you, the smile dropping immediately. “We’re meeting at the library. Tomorrow. Four o’clock,” he said, his voice all business now, like he could barely stand to look at you.
“Don’t be fucking late, (Y/L/N). I don’t wanna waste more time than I have to babysitting your dumbass.”
You gave a mocking bow. “Oh, your majesty. Should I bring you a goddamn throne too?”
Nathan just rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets as he stalked off down the hall without another glance at you. You stood there, fists clenched, heart pounding. God, you hated Nathan Prescott.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ
The library clock ticked past 4:00 PM. You drummed your fingers on the table, glaring at the empty seat across from you. Your notebook lay open, pen uncapped. Still no Nathan.
At 4:17, he finally strolled in with all the grace of someone who gave absolutely zero fucks sunglasses on indoors, slouched walk, earphones dangling. You didn’t disappoint. “You’re fucking late,” you snapped the second he dropped into the chair across from you with a loud, obnoxious scrape. Nathan didn’t even look at you. Just threw his bag on the table, knocking your pen to the floor.
“Cry harder.”
You scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah? So’s your face, but here we are.”
You clenched your jaw, grabbing your pen. “You gonna actually contribute or just sit there throwing middle school insults?”
Nathan pulled out a crumpled folder and dropped it onto the table like it weighed ten pounds. “I already did my part. You can finish it. You’re the one who actually gives a shit.”
“You call this your part?” You flipped through the papers of barely legible answers. “This looks like it was written by a brain damaged raccoon.”
He smirked. “Well you and the raccoon have something in common. Both can’t shut the fuck up.”
You leaned in, voice low and furious. “I’m not doing this whole thing alone, Prescott. If I fail because of your lazy, coke snorting ass, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Nathan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze dark and slow. “Blow me, princess.”
You didn’t flinch. You just smiled. Sweet. Cold. “I don’t do charity work.”
A few heads turned. You didn’t care. Neither did he. Nathan barked out a laugh bitter, humorless and sat forward again, voice tighter. “You think you’re tough?”
“No,” you said, deadly calm. “I know I’m better than you. You just hate that I don’t suck up to your daddy’s money like everyone else in this school.”
His smile dropped like a stone. “You’re right,” he said, quiet and sharp. “You’re not like everyone else. You’re just louder, bitchier, and a hell of a lot more annoying.”
“At least I don’t need pills and daddy’s lawyers to make it through the day.”
“Fuck you,” he muttered, but he opened the book anyway. Slouched so low in his chair you wondered how he could even see the words.
You tried to focus on your own work, but the sound of Nathan tapping his pen against the table made your skin itch. Every two minutes he let out a sigh, a groan, or muttered some sarcastic shit under his breath.
Finally, you snapped.
“If you hate this so much, maybe you should’ve told Jefferson to pair you with someone who gives a shit about your trust fund problems.” Nathan slammed the book closed so hard it made a few nearby students jump.
“Yeah, because you’re so fucking perfect, huh? Probably got your whole boring little life planned out already. Graduate, go to some shitty state school, get a lame job, marry some douchebag with a Prius ”
“At least I’m not gonna OD in my daddy’s beach house!” you hissed back, the words out before you could stop them.
The library went deadly quiet. Even the air seemed to freeze. Nathan’s eyes darkened. His whole face twisted, raw and ugly, and for a terrifying second, you thought he might actually throw something at you. Instead, he stood up so fast his chair tipped over behind him.
“Fuck this,” he snarled.
The librarian barked from the desk, “Hey! shut up or get out!”
Nathan didn’t even flinch. He grabbed his bag and stormed out, shoving the door open so hard it banged against the wall. You stayed frozen in your seat, chest heaving, throat tight. Some students stared. Others pretended not to notice. Slowly, you packed up your things, the shame burning hotter than your anger now.
You left the library with your jaw tight and your fists clenched so hard your nails bit into your palms. Screw him. Screw his smug face, his broken homework, and that goddamn mouth that never shut up unless he was about to say something even worse.
The cold air outside was a slap, but it helped. You headed toward the dorms, steps quick and angry. Until you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and sure enough, Nathan Prescott was trailing you, jacket half zipped, jaw set like he’d been chewing on broken glass. You stopped. “Are you seriously following me now? What, storming out wasn’t enough for you?”
Nathan didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. Too close. “Why the fuck are you always such a bitch to me?” he snapped.
You blinked. That… wasn’t what you expected. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he bit, eyes narrowed. “We’ve barely spoken before this week, and you act like you’ve got me all figured out. You’re always ready to throw shit at me like you know me.”
Your mouth opened, but no words came. For once, he wasn’t just being snide he was pissed, yeah, but there was something else under it. Something sharper. Real.
“What the hell did I do to you, huh?” he went on, voice rising. “We’ve never had a conversation before Jefferson paired us up, and you already decided I’m the devil or some shit.”
“You’ve got a reputation, Prescott. Don’t act surprised.”
He laughed. One dry, humorless breath. “Yeah? So that’s it? Some gossip, and suddenly you know who I am?”
You crossed your arms. “I don’t need to know you. I’ve seen enough.”
“No, you’ve seen what you want to see.” He leaned in slightly, voice low. “You think I’m some rich junkie asshole with a fucked up temper and a silver spoon so far up my ass I choke on it, right?” You didn’t answer. The silence said enough. Nathan’s tongue pressed against his cheek. He nodded slowly, like he was trying to swallow something bitter. “Right. Thought so.”
You shifted your weight. “Look, you act like a dick, Nathan. You treat people like they’re beneath you.”
“And you treat me like I’m already guilty of something I didn’t even fucking do.” His tone turned colder. “So what does that make you? If you’re throwing labels at someone without even trying to know them?”
You tried to shove past him, but he stepped in front of you again not touching you, but close enough to make your blood burn. “What? Can’t handle hearing it? You’re so sure you’re better than me?”
“I am better than you.”
“No,” he said, voice like ice, “what kind of self righteous bullshit is that”
You stared at him. His eyes weren’t glazed or cocky like usual, they were clear. You hated how it made your stomach twist. “Just stay the hell away from me,” you muttered.
He didn’t move. “Then stop talking about me like you know me. Because you don’t. And judging by today?” He tilted his head slightly, mouth curled in something bitter. “You’re not half as perfect as you like to pretend.” Then he finally stepped aside, letting you pass. But his words followed you all the way down the sidewalk.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ
You moved through the halls walking beside Max while she rambled about her latest photo concept. Her words blurred something about natural light, shadows, an abandoned greenhouse. You nodded here and there, but your attention wasn’t really on her. Nathan Prescott stood across the hall, leaned casually against the lockers in that crimson red sweater he always wore like armor. His hands were shoved into his pockets, posture slouched, head tilted toward Victoria, who was perched beside him. She was talking fast probably gossiping and he was barely listening. His expression was eyes distant.
“Hey, you good?” Max asked, her voice soft as she glanced sideways at you.
You blinked, pulled from your thoughts. “Yeah. Just out of it.”
She smiled lightly. “Blackwell’ll do that to you.”
Across the hall, Nathan looked up. His eyes met yours. You expected him to smirk. Or scoff. Or whisper something to Victoria that would piss you off all over again. He didn’t. He just held your gaze. There was no fire in it this time.
Then Max nudged your shoulder. “C’mon, we’ll be late.”
You turned, walking with her toward class, but the moment stuck with you like a thorn beneath skin. He wasn’t just some cautionary tale wearing expensive clothes. you weren’t as far above the mess as you liked to pretend.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ
You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it. You’d barely knocked twice before the door to Nathan’s dorm creaked open, not wide, just enough for a glimpse of his sharp glare and the darkened room behind him. His eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to work on the project,” you replied, shifting your weight.“You bailed on the library. I didn’t have your number.”
Nathan blinked once. Then, without warning, he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you inside. “Jesus!” The door slammed shut behind you. Before you could blink again, you were standing in the middle of his room dim, cluttered, with a faint smell of smoke and expensive cologne in the air. The only light came from a lamp on his desk, casting long shadows across the mess of camera equipment, crumpled notes, and an open bottle of water. He stood between you and the door, arms crossed, expression sharp.
“You shouldn’t be in the guys’ dorm.”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that deep, Prescott.”
“No,” he said, stepping a little closer, “it’s pathetic. You that desperate to see me? You stalking me now? Perv.”
You stared at him. “Are you always this fucking dramatic?” you snapped. “I came to work. On the project. The thing that’s due next week?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t just ask for my number?”
“like your ass would indulge me in any conversation”
Nathan scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “And barging into my dorm was the better option?”
“You ditched me. Again.” You crossed your arms, mirroring him. “I’m not playing chase the rich kid so you can pretend this group project doesn’t exist. I showed up so we can finish the damn thing.”
He stared at you for a long beat.
Then, quietly, “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”
“I’m passing this class.”
He turned away, flopping onto the edge of his unmade bed, elbows on his knees. “Fine,” he muttered. “If you’re gonna stand there taking over my space, grab a chair. Let’s get it over with.” You hesitated. Just for a second. Then sat down across from him silently waiting for Nathan to open the shared project file. But your eyes kept drifting. His desk was cluttered High end camera bodies rested in velvet lined foam. Lenses of varying sizes were stacked in an open case like polished glass trophies. Film rolls peeked out of a drawer he hadn’t shut properly. And on the wall above his bed, pinned with silver tacks, were photos.
Black and white. Grainy. Sharp.
Some were of strangers street shots, harsh shadows and sharp angles. Others were more abstract: empty chairs, cracked pavement, tree limbs twisting through fog. You didn’t mean to stare so long. But the compositions were striking. Not what you’d expected from someone who talked like he didn’t care about anything. Nathan sat on the edge of his bed, laptop open in front of him, fingers frozen over the keyboard. he wasn’t looking at the screen. He was watching you. Eyes low beneath his lashes, The tension from earlier had settled into something quieter not calm, exactly, but less volatile. He noticed the way your head tilted slightly as you studied a particular photo on the wall, your brow furrowed in faint curiosity. You looked different when you weren’t trying to bite back. He blinked, shook the thought away like an itch under his skin, and finally tapped the space bar.
“You gonna drool or you wanna help?” he muttered, loud enough to snap your attention back.
You blinked, jerking your head toward him. “Excuse me?”
“You’re staring at my shit”
You scoffed. “I was just surprised you’re actually good at something other than being an asshole.”
A grin flickered across his lips. “Wow. Touching praise from someone who broke into my dorm.”
“I didn’t break in.”
“guys dorm remember? That’s trespassing.”
You opened your mouth to fire back then caught the way his voice softened just slightly on that last word. Not enough to call it kind. You leaned forward, finally dragging the chair toward his desk. “Just show me what you’ve done so far. We’re not gonna finish anything if you keep acting like I poisoned your coffee.” He exhaled slowly, shifting the laptop so you could both see the screen. But his gaze lingered on you a second longer before turning to the document. You didn’t notice. He didn’t say anything.
You didn’t know how it happened but somewhere between reviewing the first slides and editing the captions, the two of you had stopped biting at each other. Nathan wasn’t exactly friendly, but he was… tolerable. He made a sarcastic comment about your font choice, and you rolled your eyes but didn’t snap. You pointed out a typo in his work, and he didn’t bark back, just muttered “Yeah, alright,” under his breath and fixed it.
life is strange isnt it?
The lamp on his desk cast a warm glow across the screen as the two of you leaned closer, arguing mildly about the placement of one of the images. You caught a soft twitch at the corner of his mouth not a smile, not quite but something quieter, like he wasn’t entirely annoyed you were here anymore. You glanced at the photo on the slide. One of his shots: a boy sitting on a curb, face obscured by shadow, light cutting sharp across his shoulder. “This one’s your best,” you said before you could stop yourself. Nathan’s eyes flicked to yours, He didn’t say anything. Just stared. Then, his phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
He glanced down, pulled it from his pocket lazily, still half focused on the screen. But the moment his eyes locked onto the message, something in him changed. Like a switch flipped. His shoulders tensed. Jaw tightened. Whatever softness had started to settle between you evaporated. He shoved the phone back into his pocket hard. You straightened, uncertain. “Everything okay?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then voice low, clipped “You should go.”
The air dropped ten degrees.
You blinked. “What?”
“I said, you should leave.” He stood abruptly, already walking past you, pacing like the room had become too small to breathe in.
You stood, confused, watching him retreat toward the window without explanation.
“Nathan ”
“Don’t,” he snapped, not turning around. “It’s fine. Project’s fine. everything is fine. the world is fucking fine. I’ll send you the edits later.”
His voice was cold again. The weight was back in the room, that same heaviness you’d felt the first time he looked at you like you were just another person here to take something from him. You didn’t know who had texted him. Or why he looked like the ground had just shifted beneath him. But you didn’t ask. You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder slowly. “Thanks for not being a total dick today,” you said quietly.
No response. You walked to the door, hesitating just a moment before opening it. Nathan still hadn’t turned around. So you left quietly, without another word. The hallway light stung your eyes as the door clicked shut behind you.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ
Nathan laid on his back, eyes wide open, blinking into the ceiling. He hadn’t moved in hours not really. He’d thrown on a hoodie sometime after you left, curled in on himself, and stared at nothing as the hours bled past midnight. His phone buzzed again. Another message. From the same number. He didn’t read it. His chest felt tight. He could hear his own breathing too fast, too shallow. His hands twitched where they gripped the edge of his mattress, fingers white knuckled and cold. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. But it felt worse tonight. Now shame thick in his throat, desperation louder than pride, he opened the school directory, found your name, and typed your number in. He stared at the digits for a long time. Then, he hit Call.
You woke up to the buzz of your phone on your nightstand, groggy and confused.
1:47 AM. Unknown Number.
You almost ignored it. Almost. Though you firmly believed doing stuff for the plot leads to funnier futures.
“Hello?”
For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then a quiet breath. A small, almost inaudible noise. Then, “Don’t hang up.”
Your heart stilled. “Nathan?”
“Um… hi?” you said slowly. “Why are you ”
“I just…” He sounded off. His voice was low, but shaky. Like he was trying to keep it together. “I can’t sleep.”
You were quiet for a second. Not sure what to say. It was weird. You barely knew him. The guy who made it very clear he didn’t want to work with you suddenly calling you in the middle of the night? The hell? “How did you get my number?”
“School directory. Look, I know it’s fucking weird, okay? Just fuck just don’t hang up yet.”
You leaned back in your bed, running a hand down your face. The annoyance faded just a little. There was something raw under his words, something fraying at the edges.
You exhaled. “Alright. I’m not hanging up. What’s going on?”
He didn’t answer right away. You heard him breathing though sharp inhales, shallow. Like he was pacing, or panicking.
“I just needed noise or something. I dunno. It’s like my chest’s full of needles.”
Okay. That was more than you expected. You pushed your blanket off and sat up fully, rubbing your eyes awake.
“Okay,” you said softly. “Sounds like a panic attack.”
He let out a laugh. It was bitter. Dry. “No shit.”
You stayed quiet a second, then started talking. Not about anything important just things to fill the space. You told him about the way your floorboards creaked weirdly when it got cold. The dumb poster your roommate hung crooked. The vending machine that kept eating your dollar bills. You weren’t sure why he stayed on the line. You weren’t sure why you did, either. But the minutes passed, and you could hear his breathing start to even out.
At one point, he said, quieter this time, “I didn’t know who else to call.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything. He stayed on the line until you heard nothing but slow, steady breathing. Then the call ended. You thought that was it. Just a one time weird moment. But the next night, your phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number. 12:18 AM.
You stared at it for a second. Then picked up. “Couldn’t sleep again?”
“Fuck off,” Nathan muttered, but his voice didn’t sound angry.
just like that, it became a thing. Not every night, but often enough. He’d call, and you’d talk him through it. Or he’d just listen while you rambled about whatever was in your head. Sometimes he didn’t even say much. You’d just hear his breathing. Then, one night, a text.
[1:03 AM] “Dorm’s a pressure cooker tonight. Need to get out. You up?”
You blinked down at it, thumb hovering over the screen. Then replied. “ok fuckboy, Where?”
[1:04 AM] “Back side of the art building. If you’re not scared of the dark or whatever.”
You pulled a hoodie over your head and slipped out the side door, keeping your steps light across the grass. You found him sitting on the low concrete wall, hoodie on, legs stretched out, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He didn’t look at you when you walked up.
“So… you make a habit of calling girls you don’t like at 1 a.m.?” you asked, standing over him.
He smirked, flicking ash. “You’re the only one dumb enough to answer.”
“Lucky me.”
He scooted over slightly. You sat down next to him, knees brushing briefly. He smelled faintly like smoke and laundry detergent. For a minute, neither of you said anything. Then he muttered, “Thanks. For not being a dick about the calls.”
You glanced at him. That was probably the closest thing to a thank you he was capable of. “Yeah, well,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder, “I’m not completely heartless.”
He gave a dry little laugh and took another drag. And for the first time since you’d met him, Nathan didn’t seem like he was pretending to be someone else.You hopped up beside him, the wall cold through your jeans. He handed you the cig wordlessly, and you took a drag, passing it back before pulling your phone from your hoodie pocket.
Three missed texts.
[1:52 AM Warren G.]
Where are you right now?
[1:53 AM Warren G.]
I just saw you from my window. Was that Nathan Prescott? Seriously??
[1:54 AM Warren G.]
[Y/N], what are you doing with him?
You stared at the screen for a long second, then locked it and shoved it deep into your pocket. You weren’t answering that.Warren was probably the reason you hated him so much. Right now Instead, you pulled a small joint from the hem of your hoodie tucked right where your sleeve met the wristband.
Nathan’s eyes tracked the motion, brow raising. “Since when do you carry?”
“Since tonight, apparently.” You lit it with a flick of a borrowed lighter, watching the paper curl into orange.
Nathan smirked faintly, but there was a flash of something in his face, curiosity. Not judgment. Just… surprise. “Rough night?”
You took a long pull, exhaled upward. “You could say that.”
You didn’t mention Warren. Didn’t mention the way your phone buzzed in your pocket like it was desperate to ruin the quiet. Nathan didn’t push. He just leaned back on his elbows, watching the smoke twist into the dark sky. What has been different from when you started interacting with Nathan more was not telling your friends everything. Warren might be the only reason you didnt like the guy that was sitting beside you. Though even hes such a stick in the mid sometimes.
“Not bad form,” he muttered.
“Thanks.”
He gave a soft snort, and for a minute, the tension dropped. You passed the joint over, and he took it without a word. The smoke danced lazily in the air between you, catching in the wind and disappearing into nothing. You leaned back beside him, body loose from the hit, brain a little fogged like your thoughts were wearing fuzzy socks on a hardwood floor. Nathan took another drag, eyes half lidded, and passed it back to you. You didn’t take it this time. Just stared forward, hands braced behind you, legs kicked out.
“You know,” you started, voice a little slower than usual, like you had to fish the words from somewhere murky, “I think I like you more than I realized.” Silence. You looked over, then quickly back at the dark stretch of campus in front of you. “I mean maybe it’s the high talking. Or maybe I’m just sleep deprived and having a brain glitch. Whatever.” You waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal, even though it felt like one. “It’s not like I know you, know you, but…”
You trailed off. The buzz of the joint mixed with the weight of that little truth hanging out in the open air now. Nathan blinked at you and then scoffed. “Wow,” he muttered with a crooked smile. “You catch feelings off one joint and a sad boy routine?.”
You turned to glare at him. “Shut up.”
“No, really. Should I light candles next time? Bring you flowers? Write you some poetry?” His grin stretched You went to snap back but then his hand brushed against yours on the concrete. Not accidental. He didn’t look at you when he did it. He just let his fingers slide over yours, catching them loosely. His palm was warm. Steady. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at him. Just stared at the building lights across the quad and let your hand stay in his.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ
You hadn’t slept. Not really. Instead, you’d just laid there, reliving every second behind the art building Nathan’s hand in yours. he was warm. so warm. his eyes were glossy. the night ended later than any of you two could gather. Blackwell always felt a little gray in the morning, but today it there might have been a little pep in your step. Cold in the air, a small little nathan shaped warmth in your chest. You stepped into the hallway and spotted him before you were even fully through the door.
Nathan. Leaning against a locker laughing at something Victoria said, though it didn’t look real. Nothing about him did anymore. You slowed for just a second. “Shit,” he muttered, loud enough to carry. “Should’ve known the freak parade would show up early.”
Victoria snorted. “God, can she not?” Her eyes flicked over your clothes like she was personally offended by the fabric. “Every day’s a fashion crime with her.”
You froze mid step. Max and Warren were behind you, chatting, not realizing what you were walking into. Your heart stung before your brain could even process what was happening. Nathan pushed off the locker, brushing past you with a smug little smile. “Hope the janitors are getting paid extra,” he sneered, “cleaning up after your desperation.”
“What the hell, Prescott?” Warren stepped in fast, hand fisting at his side.
Nathan turned back, cocky, dangerous. “Relax, boy scout. Didn’t realize you two were still sharing notes. Or maybe it’s more than that, huh?” His eyes swept to you again, slower this time, and colder. “Figures. Nobody else would.”
ok pause. because what the fuck happened. Like yes he was an ass. the whole school knew that. Though considering the amount of time he was crawling into your messages, where the hell did this come from?
“Keep walking,” Max said lowly, stepping up beside you.
Max didn’t press. She never did. That was the nice thing about her. Since starting the school year, you both bonded on being new. well for you, relatively new and her coming back to her hometown.
Warren, though? At lunch, he was full of energy, waving you over like always. You sat down beside him and Max at your usual table under the half broken patio umbrella. He was in the middle of some rant about science fiction film logic when it happened.
“I’m just saying if a robot gains sentience, it doesn’t automatically mean it wants to kill us. That’s lazy writing ”
From across the quad, a loud snort cut him off.
“Wow,” Victoria said, not even bothering to keep her voice down. “Look who’s still wearing last season’s clearance rack.”
You blinked, confused, until you realized she was looking directly at you. Taylor giggled beside her, but it was Nathan who made your stomach drop. He pointed toward once at your table and leaned over to whisper something to Victoria. Then, loud enough for everyone near to hear “She should’ve stayed invisible. Worked better for her.”
Max stiffened beside you. “Jesus. What is their problem today?”
Warren stood up, indignant. “Hey. Why don’t you back off, Prescott?”
Nathan didn’t even look at him. His eyes were on you and they weren’t blank. They were cold. Icy. “Relax,” he said, tone bored. “Just making an observation.”
“You want me to make one too?” Warren snapped. “Like how you’re always hiding behind Victoria’s designer knockoffs?”
Victoria gasped like she’d been slapped. “Excuse me?”
Max grabbed Warren’s arm. “Not worth it,” she said quietly. You sat disguted. Nathan’s stare found you again. And just before he turned away, he said it not loud, but loud enough. “Better keep your pets on a leash.”
Then he walked off. Victoria followed, heels snapping against the pavement. The rest of the Vortex Club trailed behind them like spoiled royalty. You didn’t finish your lunch. You barely tasted anything after that. Max rubbed your shoulder gently, concern in her eyes. “You okay?”
You nodded. You lied. Because all you could hear was his voice, cold and clean and cutting a thousand miles from the one you’d heard whispering into the phone at 1 A.M. Like none of it had happened. Like you hadn’t happened.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ
His eyes met yours, and for the first time all day, he was actually looking at you in the eyes. “Hey,” he said, voice soft.
You didn’t say it back.Instead, you stepped past him and into the room like it was a business meeting. Camera bag down. Laptop open. The wall between you and him went up brick by brick with every breath. “Let’s just get this done,” you said.
He didn’t argue. Just shut the door behind you quietly. You sat at his desk, the screen glow lighting your face. He hovered nearby, watching you scroll through edits like he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Or maybe like he didn’t know how to say anything at all. “I fixed the lighting on the last three shots,” you said flatly. “Yours were a little overexposed.”
He nodded. “Yeah. You’re better at that stuff anyway.”
You didn’t respond. Just kept clicking. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed, quiet for a while before asking, “Did you still wanna use that photo by the fountain?”
“I already did.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, glanced at you, then away. “You, uh… didn’t answer my text this morning.”
You didn’t look at him. “Didn’t think it needed a reply.”
Nathan nodded, jaw tight. “Right.”
Back to silence. He didn’t bring up what happened. Didn’t ask how you were. And you didn’t bring it up either not how he’d ignored you all day, not how the only time he seemed to be kind was when it was dark out and nobody else could see. Not how you were starting to wonder if this was all he had to give. Just this. Only at night. Only when no one else was looking. You highlighted a paragraph of text and rewrote it. He leaned closer, trying to peek at the screen.
“You’re really good at this,” he said quietly.
You flinched. Not visibly but inside, your bones rattled. It felt like a visceral reaction. You kept your voice neutral. “We’re almost done.”
He didn’t say anything else. You sat there together for another half hour, finishing edits. His bed creaked once when he shifted. You didn’t look. Eventually, you saved the file and stood up.
“That’s everything,” you said. “I’ll print it in the morning.”
Nathan watched you gather your things. “You don’t have to go yet,” he said, almost hesitant.
But you did. if he had just said something, you might understand. Though there isnt enough time in the world to be chasing after rich boy problems he doesnt want to address.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ
She left.
Didn’t even look back. Just walked out of the dorm like she couldn’t get out fast enough. Yeah. That felt about right. Nathan stood there like an idiot, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, listening to the door click shut. it was some kind of final answer he didn’t ask for. You don’t have to go yet. He’d said it like a damn loser. Like he didn’t spend the entire day pretending she didn’t exist. she looked at him like he was a goddamn stranger. He sat down on his bed, rubbed at his face, dragged his hands through his hair like it would help. It didn’t. It never did. Everything just kept buzzing. Loud. In his ears, in his chest, like a swarm of flies under his skin. He should’ve said something. Anything. Should’ve told her why he was being weird. Why he was quiet. Why he didn’t even look at her earlier. But how the hell do you say,
Hey, I’m scared you’ll end up in the basement of an abandoned barn if I like you too much?
He laughed. Or choked. One of the two. God, his hands were shaking again. He stood up fast, paced once, twice, kicked his desk chair just to feel something and regretted it immediately. His toe throbbed. Whatever.
He was sweating. Why was he sweating?
He pulled off the red zip up and threw it at the wall. Didn’t stick. Just slumped down like everything else. Jefferson’s voice. Crawling back in like it always did.
“She’s interesting, isn’t she?”
“Got a real… natural quality. Honest.”
“The kind of face that looks good in contrast. You see it, right?”
“She’s got potential.”
Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
It didn’t help. Jefferson’s voice was calm. Already chosen.He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her anywhere near that world.But what the hell was he supposed to do? Jefferson noticed things. once he noticed, it was over. Nathan dropped back onto the floor, breathing fast now. he’d been running. someone was pressing down on his lungs and wouldn’t stop. He clutched his shirt, pulled at the collar, trying to get air. Trying to slow his thoughts. His heart. Anything. But it wouldn’t fucking slow down.
His vision blurred a little. Pressure in his head, behind his eyes. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek just to stop himself from crying or screaming or both.
He felt like he was going to throw up. Or pass out. Or explode. or all of the above. it all might actually happen. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he couldn’t be normal with her… or the fact that when he was, it made him want to protect her more than anything. That protection came with a cost. A choice. A name on a folder.
She didn’t know any of it. And she couldn’t.
until there was a knock at the door.
Nathan didn’t hear it the first time. Not really. Not over the ringing in his ears, or the ragged, frantic way he was trying to breathe. His back hit the wall. He didn’t remember moving. His hands were white knuckled fists against his chest like maybe that would keep it from splitting open.
Another knock.
He blinked. Everything was too bright and too dark at the same time. His name was a whisper behind the door “Nathan?”
Her voice. It hit him like ice water. He squeezed his eyes shut harder, digging his nails into his palms. Not now. Not like this. He couldn’t let her see him like
The door creaked open.
She stepped in fast, muttering under her breath, “God, of course I forgot my charger, that’s just whatever, not like it even ”
She stopped. Frozen. Nathan was on the floor. Slumped against the side of his bed, drenched in sweat, fists clenched so tight they shook. His chest heaved, erratic. Panicked. His face was pale, eyes red rimmed, wide and glassy. All that anger she’d brought with her white hot and ready to crack across the room halted like someone slammed the brakes. Her words died in her throat.
“…Nathan?”
He still didn’t look at her. Just gasped, breath catching hard in his throat, jaw clenched like he was trying not to cry. Or scream. Or both.
Her fingers curled around the charger in her hand. For a second, she stayed rooted to the floor, her heart pounding in her ears. Part of her screamed to turn around and walk away. He deserved that. After everything. Nathan barely registered when she moved closer. He couldn’t even look at her. Just pressed his fists against his temples like that would keep everything from collapsing.
She hovered there for a second, jaw tight, arms crossed. “You’re an asshole,” she muttered. Quiet. Bitter.
He looked like he couldn’t breathe. Cursing under her breath, she dropped the charger on his desk and stepped closer. Her knees hit the carpet slowly, hesitantly, right in front of him. She crouched down between his legs, biting her lip, watching him like he was whipped animal. She didn’t say anything right away. Just reached out, unsure, and carefully took his shaking hand.
Nathan flinched. Then his eyes finally lifted, just a little. Glassy. Bloodshot. Like he didn’t recognize her at first. But he didn’t pull away.
“Jesus…” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. “Nathan, you’re what the hell is going on with you?”
Still no answer. His fingers twitched in hers, breath still coming fast and shallow, but her hand grounded him. Little by little. Beat by beat. She wanted to yell. She really did. Wanted to scream at him for ignoring her. For looking through her like she didn’t matter. For pushing her away with no reason, no explanation, no damn warning.
Nathan’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched under hers, unsure, but desperate for the anchor. He gripped her hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the floor.
“Breathe,” she said, voice flat but steady. “In. Out.”
He tried. God, he tried.
“Again.”
His lungs caught on the exhale, but he followed her voice. One breath. Then another. Her thumb moved gently across his knuckles. She didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at her. They just sat there. Angry. Shaking. Breathing.
“I’m still mad at you,” she said quietly. Just the truth.
All she could do was sit there. Mad. Hurt. Holding onto his hand like it was the only way to keep him from falling apart.
“I’m still pissed at you,” she murmured, after a long, long silence. “But I’m not gonna leave you like this.”
Nathan blinked hard. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He looked away.
And still, she didn’t let go.
˚₊✩‧₊ Oh bet? ˚₊✩‧₊
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Vinsmoke Sanji X Reader
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Synopsis: He flirts? you flirt? he falls in love first? you fall just as much
WARNING!- he a FREAK in a weird way not in my present mic way. But he’s still a gentleman ig
This is explicit content so viewer discretion is advised. It’s not my job to babysit. If you’re not comfortable or know you shouldn’t be reading adult content then think again before reading.
The Baratie was a strange place. A floating restaurant filled with rowdy sailors, the scent of sizzling meats and freshbaked bread hanging in the air. It wasn’t the worst place you’d been, but definitely not the fanciest either. Still, Luffy was practically vibrating in his seat, excited about the food, while Nami looked ready to knock him out if he tried to steal her drink again. Usopp was muttering about how a “great captain” should be treated to the finest dining experience, and Zoro? Zoro just looked half asleep, arms crossed over his chest.
Luffy, practically drooling already, clapped his hands together. “This place smells amazing! Let’s eat!”
“Try not to embarrass us,” Nami sighed, flicking him on the forehead.
Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “Tch. Fancy place for the middle of the ocean.
Usopp adjusted his goggles, scanning the crowd. “This place looks expensive… Maybe I should tell them I’m a world famous captain. Might get us a discount.”
You chuckled at their antics, but your attention was quickly drawn to the smooth figure gliding through the restaurant. A blonde waiter in a sharp black suit moved effortlessly between tables, a tray balanced perfectly in one hand as he set down a dish with practiced ease. He bowed slightly, his voice rich and honeyed.
“For you, madam, a meal as exquisite as yourself.”
The customer giggled, clearly smitten, but then his gaze lifted. And landed on you. For a moment, he just stared. Then, as if the world around him faded, the tray in his hand clattered to the floor, dishes shattering. The restaurant hushed. You blinked. He didn’t even react to the mess, his eyes locked onto you like he had just seen a goddess descend from the heavens.
“Oh. Mon dieu…” His voice was barely a whisper.
Luffy tilted his head. “Huh? What’s wrong with him?”
He came to an abrupt stop at your table, eyes widening just slightly before he swept into a dramatic bow. “Forgive me, mademoiselle, but I must ask,” He straightened, flashing a devastatingly smooth smile. “how is it that the sea has yet to claim a jewel as radiant as yourself?”
You blinked. Luffy, mid bite of stolen bread, tilted his head. “Huh?”
Nami sighed. “Oh great. One of these types.”
Sanji didn’t even acknowledge her. His focus was entirely on you, as if no one else at the table mattered. “Truly, it is an injustice that you have not been placed upon a throne where only the finest delicacies are brought to you.” He took your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a featherlight touch. “Allow me to be at your service, my dear.”
Usopp let out a low whistle from across the table. “Wow, I think that worked on me.”
Zoro rolled his eyes. “I already hate him.”
You, on the other hand, smiled sweetly. “That’s quite the greeting for someone you just met.”
Sanji smirked, tilting his head slightly, fingers still holding yours. “I believe in making an unforgettable first impression.”
“Oh, I’d say you have.” You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a playful lilt. “I just didn’t realize they were hiring princes here.” It happened immediately. Sanji stiffened. His cigarette nearly fell from his lips. His eyes widened, mouth parting slightly like his brain had just shut off completely. For a split second, it was dead silent.
In a singular moment, His entire face went red, from the tips of his ears down to his collar. Luffy choked on his food. Usopp gawked. Zoro, for the first time since you sat down, looked genuinely shocked.
Sanji stumbled back half a step, hands twitching like he wasn’t sure where to put them. “AAh—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I— That’s— You—”
You rested your chin on your hand, watching him with barely concealed amusement. “Something wrong?”
Another malfunction. The pink deepened. He was visibly sweating. Luffy was absolutely losing it. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM? WHY’S HE ACTING LIKE THAT?”
“I—I am NOT—!” Sanji tried to straighten his tie, only to pull it completely loose. His usually cool and composed demeanor had completely crumbled, and he was spiraling. “I—I’ll get your food—YES—I need to—um—”
Quickly trying to gain composure again, turned his head to the side slightly. “Tell me, my love… Do you believe in love at first sight? Because I do now. No, no, I know it. I have spent my whole life searching for something, and today, I have found it in you.”
You smirked, deciding to play along. “Oh? And what exactly have you found?”
Sanji exhaled as if you had just spoken the most poetic words in existence. “The reason my heart beats.”
Zoro groaned louder. “I’m gonna throw up.”
Nami pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are we actually doing this?”
Luffy, still focused on one thing, poked Sanji’s head. “Hey. Can you make us food?”
Sanji finally, reluctantly released your hand, but not without one final lingering touch. Standing up, he smoothed his suit, regaining some composure. “Of course. Anything for you, my love.” Then, to the others, he added flatly, “And I suppose for your friends as well.”
He quickly took your orders, smiling each time giving you a glance and every time it was anyone else at the table who looked more than disinterested. As he sauntered toward the kitchen, he threw one last longing glance over his shoulder at you, pressing a hand to his heart.
“This will not be the last time we speak, my darling.”
You simply smiled, watching him go.
“Well,” you murmured, amused, “obviously it isn’t going to be the last time, he just took our order”
——
The minute sanji joined the crew, He never stopped going for your affection. It started as a casual breakfast on the Going Merry. Peaceful. Normal. Luffy stuffing his face, Zoro half asleep with his arms crossed, Nami sipping her tea, and Usopp telling an obviously exaggerated story. Then, you and Sanji happened. It started small.
“Would you like some more tea, my dear?” Sanji purred, refilling your cup before you could even reach for it. “I couldn’t possibly let someone as radiant as you lift a finger.”
You smiled sweetly. “Oh, Sanji, you’re too kind.” You leaned your chin on your hand. “If you keep treating me like this, I might just start thinking you really like me.”
Sanji smirked. “Like you? My dear, you are the sunrise to my every morning.”
“Oh? Am I?” You tilted your head. “Because you seem more like sunset to me charming, warm, and the kind of view that makes it hard to look away.”
Sanji’s mouth went so wide in shock. The crew immediately went on high alert. Nami sighed, lowering her cup. “Oh no. It’s happening again.”
Usopp side eyed the both of you. “How long do we think this round is gonna last?”
Zoro groaned, rubbing his temples. “If we’re lucky, one of us will pass out.”
Meanwhile, Sanji recovered, straightening his tie. “Ah, but my dear, you forget I exist to serve. If I am the sunset, then I shall make sure you end every day with a breathtaking view.” He took your hand, kissing your knuckles.
You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Sanji, you romantic,”
He grinned. “That’s the mission, sweetheart.”
You leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper. “But tell me, my prince, can you handle it if I fall for you?”
Sanji’s entire body tensed. His cigarette did fall this time. He gawked at you, struggling to form words, ears burning red.
Luffy blinked, mid chew. “Ooooooo sanji is gonna mess up again!”
Sanji snapped out of it. “HAH! No!!” He grabbed your hand again, desperate to reclaim control. “My darling, if you were to fall for me, I’d catch you faster than the wind itself.”
“Oh?” You smirked. “I guess I should be careful, then, since I do like a man who can sweep me off my feet.”
Sanji’s soul left his body.
Usopp threw his hands in the air. “How is he losing at his own game?!”
Zoro smirked. “Arguably has this ever been his game?”
Sanji stumbled back, gripping the table for balance, eyes darting everywhere except at you. “I—I—” He cleared his throat, straightened his tie again (for no reason), and exhaled sharply. “You’re a worthy opponent, I’ll give you that.”
You winked. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I wasn’t.”
The tension was palpable. Luffy just kept eating, completely unbothered, while Nami rubbed her temples like she had a migraine forming.
“This is gonna go on forever, isn’t it?” she muttered.
“Probably,” Zoro said, amused.
And so, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the Flirt War raged on.
——
The kitchen of the Going Merry smelled heavenly. The scent of garlic, sizzling butter, and fresh herbs filled the air as you stood beside Sanji, sleeves rolled up, a wooden spoon in your hand.
“This isn’t so hard,” you mused, stirring the sauce in the pan.
Sanji scoffed playfully, chopping vegetables with practiced ease. “Oh? Then why did you just almost burn the onions?”
You gasped, quickly turning down the heat. “That was one time!”
He smirked. “It’s been five minutes.”
You shot him a glare, but he just chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let you burn the ship down.”
You huffed, but the warmth of his presence next to you was… nice. Comfortable.
He reached over, gently guiding your hand as you sprinkled in some salt. “There. Just a little too much will ruin the balance.”
You glanced at him, raising a brow. “You know, for someone who might actually be the least serious person ever, you’re oddly serious about food.”
Sanji smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “Cooking isn’t just about food,” he said, voice quieter now. “It’s about taking care of people. Making sure they’re happy, safe, and full.” He glanced at you. “You can learn a lot about someone by what they cook for you and how.”
You tilted your head. “Oh? And what does this say about me?”
He pretended to think, tapping his chin with the knife. “That you’re… lawless, a little reckless, but trying really hard.”
You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me?”
Sanji grinned. “And that you care more than you let on.”
That caught you off guard. Your fingers tightened around the spoon, a warmth creeping up your neck.
He turned away before you could respond, focused on plating the dish. “Alright, taste test.” He lifted a bite of food to your lips, holding the fork expectantly.
You hesitated only a second before leaning in and taking the bite. The flavors burst across your tongue rich, balanced, perfect.
Sanji watched you closely. “Well?”
You swallowed, licking your lips. “Not bad, chef.”
His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before he smirked. “Not bad? That’s all I get?”
You grinned. “Alright, alright. It’s really good.”
Sanji chuckled, stepping back with a satisfied look. “I’ll make a cook out of you yet.”
You bumped your shoulder against his. “As long as you don’t mind a little mess in your kitchen.”
His smirk softened. “For you? Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
——
It was supposed to be another harmless round. Another battle of wits. The little game between you and Sanji to see who could make the other fold first.
But somehow, it felt… different today.
The crew was gathered on the deck of the Going Merry, the afternoon sun warming the wood beneath you. Lunch had just ended, and everyone was lounging Luffy hanging off the mast, Usopp fiddling with his slingshot, Nami sketching a map, and Zoro napping against the railing.
And then Sanji had done the thing.
He’d casually brushed your hair back, fingers lingering just a second too long, his voice soft as he murmured, “Ah, mon amour, even the wind envies me for touching you.”
That should have been your cue to fire back. To make him stutter, to turn the tables. But for some reason, your breath caught.
Something in the way he said it something different made your heart do a weird little flip.
You recovered quickly, tilting your head with a smirk. “Careful, chef. If you keep that up, I might start believing you.”
Sanji grinned, but his usual arrogance wasn’t there. Instead, he just looked at youlike he was trying to memorize every detail.
The energy shifted. The crew definitely noticed.
Usopp, watching with narrowed eyes, whispered, “am I crazy or does this feel… tense”
Zoro cracked an eye open. “yes. you are crazy. but no you’re right.”
Nami sighed, setting down her pen. “Finally.”
But you and Sanji were locked in now.
Sanji exhaled, rolling his cigarette between his fingers. “Maybe,” he said, voice lower than usual, “maybe I want you to believe me.”
The teasing smile on your lips faltered just slightly.
Your fingers curled slightly against the railing. As god as your witness, since you first met him it’s been like a drug. But you weren’t about to let him win just yet.
“Is that so?” you murmured, stepping closer. “And what if I told you that I like the way you look at me?”
Sanji stilled, inhaling sharply.
For the first time, you saw him hesitate. Not in the usual, flustered way but in the way someone does when they realize they might be in over their head.
The silence stretched between you. The playfulness was still there, but beneath it was something deeper, something neither of you had expected.
Sanji swallowed, then let out a slow breath. “Then… I’d tell you I haven’t been able to stop looking since the moment I met you.”
You froze. This wasn’t a battle anymore. There were no winners. No losers. Just you and Sanji, standing too close, staring at each other like maybe just maybe this had been real all along.
Neither you nor Sanji moved for a long moment. Then, after a heartbeat, you smiled small, real, genuine.
“Guess we’re both in trouble, huh?” you murmured.
Sanji chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his face warmer than the afternoon sun.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think we are.”
——
The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden shimmer across the waves as the crew bustled about, preparing to head into town. You leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching as Luffy practically vibrated with excitement.
“MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” he chanted, running in circles around Zoro, who looked one second away from knocking him out cold.
“You guys have fun,” you said, stretching your arms above your head with a content sigh. “I’m just gonna take it easy today. Relax, enjoy the peace and quiet.”
Usopp slung an arm around your shoulder, waggling his brows. “Taking it easy, huh? What, planning on sleeping the whole day away?”
“Something like that,” you replied smoothly, not giving anything away.
“I don’t blame you,” Nami said, adjusting her sunglasses as she stepped onto the dock. “This is the perfect time to get some real alone time without Luffy shouting every five seconds.”
“Oi!” Luffy pouted but was too distracted by the smell of food wafting from town to argue.
Sanji, carrying a basket of supplies over his shoulder, turned to you with a charming smile. “Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you back anything, my dear? Something sweet? Something special?”
“I’m good,” you assured him, waving them off. “Just don’t spend all our money, Nami.”
She smirked. “No promises.”
One by one, the crew disappeared down the dock, their voices fading into the distance. You watched until they were completely out of sight before turning on your heel, already feeling the anticipation curl in your stomach.
Being on a boat full of mostly men all the time can definitely get to you, especially when you need some alone time, something that is rare and hard to come by. Today, since it was almost certain that everyone would be off the boat, some much needed solitude was in order.
——
Sanji had barely stepped into town when he realized he had forgotten something. He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he spun on his heel.
“Damn it,” he muttered, adjusting the basket on his shoulder. “I was supposed to grab some containers for dinner tonight.”
The others were already wandering off Luffy sprinting ahead toward a food stall, Zoro heading in the opposite direction (probably lost already), and Nami dragging Usopp toward the market. No one noticed as Sanji veered off, making his way back toward the ship.
The walk wasn’t long, the scent of salt and the gentle rocking of the boat growing stronger as he neared the Sunny. He hummed to himself, mentally running through the ingredients he needed, completely unaware of what he was about to walk into.
He stepped lightly onto the deck, shoes tapping softly against the wood. The ship was eerily quiet, a rare occurrence with their crew. Normally, he’d appreciate the peace, but something about it made his brow furrow.
“(Y/N)?” he called out absentmindedly, though he didn’t expect a response. You had said you were going to relax, probably napping or reading in your room.
Shrugging, he made his way below deck, heading straight for the kitchen but then, out of pure curiosity (and maybe the tiniest bit of nosiness), he paused outside your door. He wasn’t planning on knocking, just listening for a moment, maybe to see if you had fallen asleep already.
That was when he heard it. A soft sound almost like a gasp. Sanji blinked, tilting his head. Another sound. A shaky breath. Sanji’s brain short circuited.
He swallowed thickly, eyes widening slightly as realization hit him like a speeding Sea Train. His hand, which had been halfway to knocking, immediately yanked back like he had been burned.
Oh. Oh.
He should leave. Right now. Turn around, walk away, pretend he heard nothing, and never think about it again. That would be the polite thing to do. The respectful thing to do.
And yet.
His feet refused to move.
A terrible, awful, sinful curiosity rooted him in place. His fingers twitched. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could be happening on the other side of that door.
Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take a step back. Nope. No, no, no. This was bad. He needed to go before
The ship rocked slightly, the floor beneath him creaking as his foot shifted.
And then. The door creaked open. His soul left his body.
——
The room was quiet, save for the sound of your own heavy breathing. The ship rocked gently on the waves outside, the muffled voices of birds flying by, barely audible from the deck. You had thought that you were alone.
Which is why you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.
Didn’t notice the door creak open. Didn’t realize you had an audience until
“oh my god.”
Sanji’s entire body locked up. Every cell in his being screamed at him to move, to run, to do anything but it was too late. He had already seen too much.
His face turned red at an alarming rate, from the tips of his ears down to his neck. His hands, which had been casually shoved into his pockets, shot up to his face like a man shielding himself from the divine sight he had just walked in on.
His knees buckled. His breath hitched. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out only small, choked noises that sounded vaguely like prayers.
His mind was an absolute mess. On one hand, he knew he needed to leave. Immediately. On the other hand—OH GOD, YOU LOOKED LIKE A DREAM.
The way your skin glowed in the soft light, the way your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the way your expression was twisted in pleasure it was too much.
“I— I— I—” He wheezed. His soul was about to physically exit his body.
Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with horror. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, realization dawned across your face, your very flustered, very not fully clothed face.
“UH” You scrambled for anything to cover yourself, your face burning hotter than the sun.
Sanji let out something between a strangled gasp and a whimper.
“I— I didn’t see anything!” he blurted, shaking violently. “Well, actually, I did—but I shouldn’t have—but I can’t unsee it now—BUT I DIDN’T MEAN TO—”
“SANJI!”
“YES, MY LOVE?!” His voice cracked.
“GET. OUT.”
That finally snapped him out of his stupor. With one last, absolutely pathetic nosebleed, Sanji let out an inhuman noise, spun around, and slammed the door behind him so hard the ship probably shook.
Silence.
From the other side of the door, you heard a loud crash, followed by weak, lovesick mumbling.
Sanji had absolutely collapsed.
——
After that incident, you had taken your time leaving your room, hoping that by some miracle, he had either forgotten what happened (unlikely) or at least regained enough composure to function like a normal human being around you (even more unlikely).You weren’t hiding from Sanji, exactly.
Unfortunately, the moment you stepped onto the deck, you spotted him.
Or rather Sanji spotted you.The second his ocean blue eyes landed on you, it was over.
His entire body went rigid, as if he had just been struck by lightning. His face already slightly pink from the heat went so violently red that it looked like he was about to self combust.
Then came the nosebleed. It started with a small trickle. Then another. Then a full on gush as the memory of what he had walked in on clearly assaulted his mind all over again.
Sanji wobbled. His legs shook. His breath hitched in his throat, his fingers twitching like he was fighting every instinct in his body.
“Ohhh… oh no…” he muttered, swaying slightly. “It’s happening again… mon dieu… mon dieu…”
Zoro, who had been standing nearby, raised an eyebrow at him. “The hell is wrong with him?”
Sanji let out a pained noise. A whimper. His entire soul was fracturing in real time.
You, watching this, sighed and crossed your arms. “Sanji.”
That was a mistake.
Because the moment your voice reached him, His name floating through your voice, his entire body shuddered, and he collapsed.
Flat on his back. Blood dripping from his nose. Muttering your name like some kind of prayer. The deck went silent.
Luffy, chewing on a piece of meat, blinked down at Sanji’s unconscious body. “Whoa. What happened to him?”
Usopp peered over and snorted. “I don’t know but he’s a perv—”
Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “Idiot probably deserved it.”
Meanwhile, you pinched the bridge of your nose.
“…Sanji please….”
Sanji barely conscious let out the softest little, “yes, my love…” before finally passing out completely.
On his side after that second misfortune, Sanji HAD been avoiding you since the incident. Knowing full well how disrespectful he’s being. But also know he fully well will fumble. It was hard to avoid someone when every time he laid eyes on you, his body betrayed him.
Blushes. Stammering. Dramatic nosebleeds. Near death experiences. It had been days, and he was still acting like a wreck.
And frankly? You were done with it. You missed you guys hanging out and making food together.
Which is why, when you caught him sneaking off toward the kitchen, you marched right up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his stupid suit, and your fist cracked against his head.
Sanji staggered, a yelp escaping his lips as he clutched his skull. “OW!—MMa chérie! Why—”
You grabbed his tie and yanked him down so he was eye level with you. “Pull yourself together, Sanji!”
His eyes were spinning. He looked devastated. “BBut, my love—”
WHAM. Another hit. Lighter this time, but still firm. “No more nosebleeds. No more fainting. No more worshipping the ground I walk on like some desperate virgin!”
Sanji sputtered. “BBut I’m not—”
You raised your fist again.
“Okay, okay!!” he yelped, hands raised in surrender. “II will act normal, I swear—”
You narrowed your eyes. “Are you sure?”
Sanji swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming at his temple. “YYes, I—”
His eyes flickered to your lips for half a second. Bad move.
You decked him.
Sanji flew like a damn ragdoll, his body went sailing across the deck before he crashed into a barrel with a pitiful THUD.
The crew who had been watching the whole thing winced.
Luffy, still chewing on his food, let out an impressed whistle. “Wow. is this because of the other day?.”
Usopp adjusted his goggles. “Think he’s still alive?”
Zoro, barely sparing Sanji a glance, scoffed. “Unfortunately.”
Meanwhile, Sanji twitched on the ground, a giant lump forming on his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
But despite the pain, despite the pure force of your hit his lips wobbled into a lovesick grin.
“Ohhh… they’re so strong…”
You cracked your knuckles. “Sanji.”
“Right! Right! Acting normal! Got it!!”
———
bustling with vendors and laughter as the crew explored. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting golden light over the marketplace. The air smelled of grilled seafood, sweet fruits, and warm bread. It should have been a relaxing outing.
Should have been.
Except Sanji was currently draped over a group of women near a café, all charm and smooth words, flashing that damn heart eyed smile of his.
“Oh, ladies, you truly brighten this already beautiful day~” he cooed, practically melting into the group. One of the women giggled, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.
“You’re quite the charmer,” she said, batting her lashes.
“I only speak the truth, my sweet,” Sanji replied, reaching for her hand, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. “How could I not, when standing before such goddesses?”
You rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw the back of your skull.
The audacity. The absolute nerve of this man.
After what happened on the ship the way he had short circuited, collapsed, and barely functioned in your presence for days he had the gall to be out here, flirting with random women like it was second nature? Like he hadn’t seen you in the most intimate, vulnerable position imaginable?
Unbelievable.
You stood at a distance, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. You weren’t sure why you were so irritated. It wasn’t like Sanji didn’t do this all the time. This was normal. Standard. A daily occurrence.
But for some reason, today, it grated on you.
Maybe it was because every time you accidentally brushed against him since the incident, he’d combust like a malfunctioning robot. Maybe it was because he couldn’t even look you in the eye without stuttering.Maybe it’s because you missed him
Or maybe it was because, for a moment, just a brief moment, you thought maybe just maybe his affections toward you were different.
Apparently not.
You exhaled sharply through your nose, turning away. You weren’t going to stand around watching him throw himself at strangers all day.
Just as you were about to walk off, you heard one of the women giggle.
“You’re adorable,” she purred.
Your jaw clenched.
Then, without thinking, you spun on your heel and called out
“Sanji!”
His entire body stiffened.
Slowly, almost fearfully, he turned his head toward you. The women glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension.
“Oh?” one of them mused,. “Is this your girlfriend?”
Sanji’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
You tilted your head, arms still crossed.
“Well, Sanji?” you asked sweetly.
——
You weren’t mad. You weren’t. Because being mad would mean that you had some kind of claim over Sanji, and you didn’t.
He could flirt with whoever he wanted. He could call every woman a goddess, get on his knees, offer them his undivided attention like they were the only ones in the world. It was normal.
So why did it feel like a slow burn in your chest every time you heard him do it?
You had no right to feel this way. No reason to let your mood sour. So instead of dealing with it dealing with him you made a choice.
You avoided Sanji. instead? You spent the day with Zoro.
At first, the swordsman had given you a look when you plopped down beside him on the deck, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the ocean.
“The hell do you want?” he grumbled.
“Nothing,” you muttered, leaning back with a sigh. “Just… existing.”
Zoro huffed but didn’t push you away. That was the nice thing about him he didn’t pry. He just let you be.
The two of you ended up training together, sparring to get your mind off things. You let yourself focus on the swing of your arms, the rhythm of dodging, the burn of exertion rather than the twisting feeling in your gut.
For a few hours, it actually worked. Until Sanji noticed. At first, he didn’t think much of it. You were friends with Zoro, sure. He’d seen you talk before, train together. It was fine.
But as the day went on, something started to feel… off.
You weren’t coming into the kitchen to steal bites of food before dinner. You weren’t teasing him like you usually did. You weren’t around him at all.
Instead? You were with him. Sanji was pissy. Not just annoyed. Not just mildly irritated.
Pissy.
And it was your fault.
You, who had spent the entire day hanging around Zoro like he was your new favorite person. You, who had laughed at something the swordsman said actually laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard.
You, who had barely spared Sanji a second glance.
So now, he was chopping vegetables in the galley with the kind of aggression that should be illegal, his cigarette burning low as he muttered under his breath.
Nami, leaning against the counter with her drink, raised a brow. “You’re gonna cut your fingers off if you keep that up.”
Sanji slammed his knife down. “Tch.”
“Oh, somebody’s grumpy.”
“I am not grumpy.”
Nami snorted. “Uhhuh. So this doesn’t have anything to do with you know who hanging out with Zoro all day?”
Sanji scowled. “I don’t care what they do.”
“Right.” She took a sip of her drink. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at the deck for hours.”
“I have not—”
The galley doors swung open.
And there you were.
Sanji straightened immediately, expression neutral, but Nami could see the way his grip tightened on the counter.
You walked in casually, grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. “Hey, Sanji—”
“Oh,” he cut in, tone clipped. “You remember my name?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”
He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “Thought you’d forgotten, considering how busy you’ve been with moss head.”
You stared. “…Are you jealous?”
Sanji scoffed. “Pft.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Please.”
“You are jealous.”
“I am not.”
You smirked, stepping closer. “Oh my god. You are.”
Sanji turned away sharply, muttering something under his breath as he aggressively stirred a pot that didn’t need stirring.
You frowned . “You’re mad.”
“I am not mad.”
“You’re being all pissy.”
“I am not. would you just” He exhaled sharply, spinning around to face you, his frustration spilling over. “Forgive me for thinking you’d actually want to spend time with me instead of that muscle brained idiot!”
You blinked.
Sanji blinked.
The room fell silent.
Nami slowly sipped her drink, enjoying the show.
“…Wow,” you finally said, crossing your arms. “That was a lot of feelings all at once.”
Sanji ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “I don’t—tch—just—forget it.”
You tilted your head, then, grinning walked right up to him.
Sanji stiffened as you reached up, gently flicking his tie. “Y’know,” you mused, “for someone who flirts with every woman he sees, you sure lose your mind when the attention isn’t on you.”
Sanji’s jaw clenched. “That’s different.”
You raised a brow. “Is it?”
“Yes.” His eyes met yours, blue and burning with something raw. “Because it’s you.”
That wiped the smirk off your face.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then, with a final scoff, Sanji turned back to the stove. “Just sit down, alright? I made dinner.”
You step back a bit, but your chest felt a little warmer. “ Are you making it just for me?”
He let out a long suffering sigh. “Shut up.”
————
There are endless lists of moments Sanji fell in love with you. Like how he usually took care of people with food. The way you took care of him never ceases to make him love you more. The battlefield was still. The fight was over, the enemy long defeated, but your heart was still pounding.
Because where was he?
Your eyes scanned the wreckage, searching, ignoring the aches in your own body. The second you spotted the familiar flash of blonde Sanji, standing a few feet away, wiping blood from his lip your feet moved.
“Sanji!”
He barely had time to react before you reached him, hands immediately running over his arms, his chest, checking for any injuries.
“Are you okay?” You tilted his face up, frowning at the bruise forming on his cheek. “Damn it, Sanji, why do you never dodge”
A gasp slipped from his lips as he stared at you. “I—what?”
“You always get hit,” you scolded, brushing a bit of blood away from his jaw. “You know you don’t have to take every hit for someone else, right?”
Sanji blinked. It wasn’t like you to fuss over him. Sure, you flirted, teased, challenged him but this? This was new.
“You’re hurt, too,” he finally said, frowning as he spotted the scrape along your arm. His fingers brushed over it, eyes darkening slightly. “You should—”
“I’ll be fine.” You waved him off, still checking him over. “you’re always my first priority, okay?”
Sanji stopped breathing.
The world around him seemed to fade. The sound of the crew celebrating, the distant crash of waves it was all gone.
All that existed was you.
Your hands were still on his chest, completely oblivious to the way his heart was slamming against his ribs.
“…Sanji?”
Your voice snapped him out of it.
He exhaled sharply, shaking off the insane urge to just grab you, kiss you, do something. Instead, he covered his flustered expression with a lopsided grin.
“You really can’t resist touching me, huh?” He smirked, though it was weaker than usual. “I knew you liked me.”
You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”
But the way you smiled at him relieved, warm, real Sanji decided he’d let you fuss over him forever.
———
It was the next day and Sanji wasn’t on the ship. He had gone exploring with Nami and Usopp, leaving the kitchen blissfully empty. Normally, you wouldn’t dare enter his domain without permission, but today was different.
Today, you had a plan. You were going to cook for him. Wasn’t it him that said the way someone cooks for people is how you learn about a person or whatever?
It wasn’t anything extravagant just a simple dish you’d seen him make before. But as you stood over the stove, carefully chopping ingredients (only slightly unevenly) and stirring the sauce (definitely not burning it this time), you felt something odd.
Nervousness.
Why were you nervous? You and Sanji flirted all the time, teased each other relentlessly, but this… this felt different. More personal.
You sighed, shaking off the thought. He cooks for everyone all the time. This isn’t a big deal. Except it was, and you knew it.
By the time Sanji returned, the dish was plated neatly on the counter. You were wiping your hands on a towel, pretending not to be hyperaware of how fast your heart was beating.
Sanji stepped into the kitchen, stretching. “Mmm, what’s that smell—?” He froze.
His eyes landed on the plate. Then on you. His brain short circuited.
“Did you…?” He pointed at the food. “Is this—?”
You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Yeah. I, uh… made it for you.”
Sanji’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest wanting come barrelling towards you. His entire face went red. “You—” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair like he had no idea what to do with himself. “You cooked? For me?”
You shifted awkwardly. “Well, yeah. You’re always the one feeding everyone, so I thought… you know.”
Silence. Then, Sanji dragged a hand down his face, clearly struggling.
You had never seen him at a loss for words before.
You smirked, trying to break the tension. “What, cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”
Sanji looked at you, blue eyes flickering between the food and your face like he was witnessing something too much for his heart to handle.
“You’re… really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he muttered.
Before you could respond, a loud THUMP shook the kitchen.
“I SMELL FOOD!!”
Luffy’s massive form barreled into the room, eyes locked onto the plate like a starving wolf.
In an instant, Sanji snapped out of his daze. “DON’T YOU DARE, YOU GREEDY BASTARD—”
But before Luffy could make a move, BAM!
Zoro’s arm shot out, holding Luffy back with one hand while the rubber idiot flailed desperately. “LET ME GO, IT LOOKS SO GOOOOD—”
Zoro sighed, straining slightly to hold him in place. “Not this time, moron.”
Sanji cracked his knuckles, looking murderous. “If you so much as breathe near that plate, I swear on everything, Luffy—”
Luffy whined. “BUT I’M HUNGRYYYY.”
Zoro smirked, glancing between you and Sanji. “Let the lovebirds have their moment.”
Sanji choked. You nearly threw the nearest pan at Zoro’s head.
“IT’S NOT—WE’RE NOT—”
Zoro just walked away, still holding a wailing Luffy back. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Enjoy your date, cook.”
The kitchen fell into silence again.
Sanji coughed into his fist, refusing to meet your eyes. You could still see the pink dusting his cheeks.
You sighed, sitting on the counter. “Well. That was dramatic.”
Sanji hesitated, then finally sat across from you. His expression softened as he looked at the meal you’d made.
“…Thank you,” he murmured, voice quieter than usual. “Really.”
You shrugged, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “Just eat it before it gets cold, yeah?”
He smiled. A real, soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
And as he took his first bite, you swore you’d never seen him happier.
Sanji took his time with the meal you’d made for him, savoring every bite like it was the finest dish in the world. He didn’t scarf it down like Luffy would’ve no, he was gentle with it, like he knew how much effort you had put in.
And honestly? Watching him enjoy it sent a strange warmth through your chest. Maybe that’s why he does this.
He set his fork down with a satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with a napkin before finally looking at you. His eyes held something different now something real.
“That was incredible,” he murmured. “Not just the food. The fact that you… did this for me.”
You huffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it, alright?”
Sanji chuckled, shaking his head. “Too late.”
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. You could still hear Luffy and Usopp messing around outside, Zoro’s occasional annoyed grunts, the gentle sway of the Merry on the waves.
“Can I ask you something?” Sanji’s voice was softer now, hesitant.
You glanced at him. “What’s up?”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking down for a moment before exhaling, as if bracing himself. Then, he met your gaze, and all of his usual flirtatious bravado was gone.
“I… want to be with you,” he admitted, voice steady but genuine. “Not just as a game. Not just as some girl I flirt with and move on from. You.”
Your breath hitched slightly. You hadn’t expected this. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, any hint that this was just another one of his smooth lines. But there was nothing just pure, raw honesty.
Still, you had to be sure.
“You say that now,” you murmured, watching him carefully. “But what about the next pretty girl you see? The next chance to throw around your charms?”
Sanji’s jaw tightened. He stood up, stepping closer, his gaze intense. “You think I’d risk everything, risk you for some meaningless flirting?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was.
“I don’t just like you,” he continued, voice lower now, more serious than you’d ever heard him. “I adore you. Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you fight, the way you drive me absolutely insane in the best way.”
Your heart pounded.
Sanji’s fingers brushed against yours on the counter, tentative, like he was waiting for permission.
“You’re not just another girl to me,” he murmured. “You never were.”
The sincerity in his voice nearly knocked the wind out of you.
You let out a breath, glancing at your entwined fingers before looking back at him. “…Promise me.”
Sanji didn’t hesitate. “On my life.”
The weight of his words settled between you. Then, finally, finally, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Sanji froze. His face exploded in red, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like his brain had completely shut down.
You smirked. “Speechless?”
He made a strangled sound, gripping the counter for support. “I—You—Mon dieu.”
You laughed, shaking your head before lacing your fingers through his. “C’mon, lover boy. Let’s go before Luffy breaks in here again.”
Sanji blinked rapidly, trying to reboot his system. Then, he squeezed your hand, a dazed but ridiculously happy smile spreading across his face.
“Yeah,” he breathed, still looking like he couldn’t believe this was real. “Let’s go.”
——
The sun dipped low over the deck, bathing everything in warm hues of gold and orange. The crew lounged, basking in the afterglow of yet another victory. Luffy was inhaling food like he hadn’t just eaten an hour ago, Usopp was dramatically retelling the battle with enough embellishments to make a playwright jealous, and Zoro was leaning against the mast, arms crossed, eyes shut.
And you? You were watching him. Sanji, leaning against the railing, cigarette between his lips, looking effortlessly cool. As always. It was obnoxious. After everything, the battles, the tension, the way he looked at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, you decided… why not mess with him a little?
So, without a word, you strolled up to him, placed a hand on his cheek, and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Just like that. Casual. Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.
Then, before he could react, you pulled back, patted his cheek with a smirk, and murmured, “Thanks for being safe, Sanji.” And then you walked away. Silence. Not a normal silence. A deafening, stunned silence. The crew froze. Sanji? Sanji malfunctioned. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, landing on the deck with a faint hiss. His entire body locked up, lips still parted like his brain had left the building.
“HUH???” Luffy choked, rice spilling from his mouth.
Usopp smacked his own face. “Did—did they just—DID YOU SEE THAT?!”
Zoro cracked one eye open, and muttered, “Well, they’re actually doing it.”
Meanwhile, you were casually leaning against the mast, trying very hard not to laugh as you watched Sanji’s brain actively rebooting.
And then Sanji moved. No he stormed straight for you. Before you could react, his hands grabbed yours, yanking you close in one fluid motion. “Oh, you’re dangerous, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dangerously low.
Your smirk faltered slightly. “…Sanji?”
“You think you can just do that?” His hands slid up your arms, firm, possessive. “You think you can just kiss me and walk away? take me serious”
You swallowed. “I mean—”
Sanji cupped your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. Your heart slammed against your ribs.
His voice dropped, smooth as silk, deadly as sin.“Try pulling something like that again, love, and I’ll make sure you never get a chance to walk away.” Your breath hitched.
The crew? Losing their minds. “OH MY GOD???” Usopp shrieked. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?” Luffy yelled, food completely forgotten. Nami just sighed, shaking her head. “Finally.” Zoro? well that man fell back asleep. For the first time in your life speechless. Sanji? Sanji smirked. Because for once he won this round.
—
You snorted. “Oh please, if I wanted you, you’d already be mine.”
Sanji grinned, tilting his head. “That so?”
“Obviously.” The banter was light, familiar comfortable. The kind of thing that had become second nature between the two of you.
“Oh my god, just sleep together already.”You both froze. Slowly, your heads turned to see Zoro walking past, completely unfazed, his sword slung over his shoulder.
Sanji choked. “EXCUSE ME?”
Your brain short circuited. “WHAT??”
Zoro, not even looking back, just shrugged. “You guys are basically already there. Might as well make it official.”
Sanji exploded.“ARE YOU INSANE?! You can’t just say something like that, YOU ABSOLUTE MUSCLE HEADED JACKASS!” His face was red, You, meanwhile, were dying.
“Zoro, what the hell?!” you sputtered, half laughing, half horrified.
Zoro just yawned. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”
From across the deck, Usopp cackled. “He’s got a point.”
Nami, sipping her drink, smirked. “Honestly, we were all just waiting for someone to say it out loud.”
Luffy, in true Luffy fashion, grinned. “wait so are you both…. doing it?”
Sanji made a sound that was borderline inhuman. “LUFFY, NO.”
You covered your face, trying and failing not to laugh. “I hate all of you.”
Sanji, still sputtering, ran a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”
Zoro just smirked. “You’re welcome.” And with that, he walked away. Leaving the two of you standing there, stunned, mortified.
—
Most of the crew had gone to sleep, the only sounds left being the gentle lapping of waves and the faint creaking of the ship. You, however, were not sleeping. Instead, you were standing outside the men’s quarters, arms crossed, staring at the door like it had personally wronged you. Because Zoro’s words from earlier were still rattling around in your head.
“Oh my god, just sleep together already.”
The worst part? He wasn’t wrong and that was why, before you could talk yourself out of it, you knocked. There was silence, then a shuffling sound before the door cracked open revealing a very tired, very shirtless Sanji. His hair was messy, his tie discarded, and good lord he was wearing sweatpants.
You almost lost your nerve right then and there.
He blinked at you, rubbing his eyes. “Sweetheart? What are you doing here?”
You cleared your throat, trying very hard to keep your gaze above his collarbone. “Uh. Can I come in?”
Sanji raised a brow but stepped aside, letting you enter. The room was dimly lit, empty besides his neatly made bed and the scent of cigarettes lingering in the air.
He closed the door behind you. “Alright, what’s—”
“I think we should listen to Zoro.”
Sanji blinked. “ew what?”
You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “We should just… do it.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Sanji.exe had stopped working.
“…I’m sorry, what?”
You crossed your arms, feigning confidence. “You heard me.” Sanji stared. His mouth opened then closed. Opened again. Nothing came out. his face exploded into red.
“WWAIT, HOLD ON, YOU CAN’T JUST—” He covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide like you’d just set off a bomb. “Are you—do you—do you even know what you’re saying right now?!”
You smile, stepping closer. “What, you get to flirt all day, but I can’t be upfront?”
Sanji backed up instinctively, nearly tripping over his own bed. “That’s—! This is—!!”
You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “What’s wrong, Sanji?”
He whimpered. Actually whimpered. His hands were gripping the sheets like a lifeline, breathing erratic. “You can’t just waltz in here and say things like that! I have a weak heart!”
You bit back a laugh. “Weak heart, huh?” You leaned down, tilting your head. “Then should I leave?” Sanji grabbed your wrist before you could even move.
“…Don’t you dare.”
The air in the room shifted. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was how his grip on you had tightened, how the teasing in his eyes had turned into something else entirely.
“…Sanji?”
His hand lifted, fingers tracing gently over your wrist. “You really want this?” His voice was quieter now, more serious.
You met his gaze. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
And with that, your fate was sealed.
Sanji’s lips lingered against your knuckles, the warmth of his breath sending shivers up your spine. His usual playfulness had melted away, leaving something real, something that made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t used to. Your heart pounded. You had started flirting with him all the way back as a joke just to mess with him, to see if he’d break like he always did. But now?Now you were the one who couldn’t breathe. Sanji lifted his gaze, his thumb brushing against your wrist. His voice was softer now, the teasing gone. “Say it again.”
You swallowed. “Say what?”
“That you want this.” His grip tightened, not forceful, but firm. “That you want me.
It should’ve been easy. You flirted with him all the time. This should’ve been just another game, another battle to see who would crack first. But looking at him now the way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes searched yours with something dangerously close to hope this wasn’t a game anymore. You took a shaky breath. “I want this.” Sanji inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him. Sanji inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him.
“…Say it again,” he murmured, almost desperate.
You cupped his face, letting your thumb trace over his cheek. “I want you, Sanji.”
That was all it took. A groan left his lips, and before you could process it, his hands were on you gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, his forehead pressed against yours as he shook with the effort of holding himself back.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he whispered, breathless. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”
You smiled, running your fingers through his messy blonde hair. “I have an idea.” Sanji let out a low chuckle then, with a sudden rush, he flipped you onto the bed. You barely had time to gasp before he caged you beneath him, arms braced on either side of your head.
“I’ve spent so long waiting for this,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “Thinking you were just teasing, that you’d never really…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “You drive me insane, you know that?”
You grinned, hands trailing down his chest. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”
Sanji groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Silence. Sanji froze. Your breath caught. “What did you just say?”
His entire body locked up. “…Nothing.”
You smirked. “Sanji.”
He refused to lift his head. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You totally did.”
“I absolutely did not.”
You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Sanji. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he lifted his head, cheeks bright red.
You smiled. “Say it again.”
He groaned, dropping his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”
But he still whispered it against your skin, soft and genuine. “…I love you.”
—
It was the next morning the room was dimly lit, the gentle sway of the ship rocking beneath you as you and Sanji were lost in each other. His hands traced along your skin, slow and reverent, as if memorizing every inch of you. His breath was warm against your collarbone, lips trailing lazy kisses up your neck, stopping just beneath your ear.
“Mon amour,” he murmured, voice thick with devotion, “you’re intoxicating, you know that?”
You hummed, fingers slipping through his golden hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from him. “And yet, you’re the one who can’t seem to get enough.”
Sanji let out a breathless chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can you blame me?” His fingers trailed down your spine, setting your nerves alight. “You’re—” He kissed you deeply, swallowing the words before they could leave his lips. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the way his hands held you so carefully, like you were something precious. Every touch, every kiss was a promise one that you could feel down to your bones.
“Sanji…” you whispered against his lips, feeling his breath hitch as you ran your hands down his chest, your own teasing smirk forming as you
SLAM!
“HA! I KNEW IT!”
You and Sanji froze. Slowl horrifyingly you turned your heads toward the doorway. Usopp stood there, eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open in pure shock.
A beat of dead silence. Then processing just exactly what he caught and “knew” “OH MY GOD!”
Usopp screamed, immediately throwing his hands over his face like that would somehow erase what he had just seen. “I NEED TO BLEACH MY EYES—OH GOD—WHY—”
“GET OUT!!!” Sanji roared, grabbing the nearest object a pillow and hurling it at him.
But Usopp was already gone, sprinting down the hall at full speed. “NAMI!! I SAW IT! I SAW IT, AND I CAN NEVER UNSEE IT—” The door slammed shut again. Silence. Sanji, breathing heavily, still had his arm mid throw, his face burning scarlet.
You, equally red, slowly buried your face in your hands. “…Well.”
Sanji collapsed back against the mattress, groaning. “Does anyone knock or have courtesy?”
You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “we’re on a pirate ship, I think manners left the minute he stepped on”
From somewhere down the hall, Usopp could still be heard wailing. Sanji groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “…I’m moving to another ship.”
lol my last day of vacation and i’m about to go home but as it is a 10 flight i shall leave you with this. I also reach the text box limit and now some sections look squishy 😔
Sanji: heh... step aside ladies... let a real man handle this (does the exact same thing but worse)
Sanji Vinsmoke x Reader
𓊝﹏ All Too Well 𓊝﹏
blab blah blah I see him and suddenly im dumb
masterlist
SYNOPSIS: don’t you hate when your woman who is not your woman get fed up with you so your woman who’s not your woman goes and take matters into her own hands.
⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖ You strolled through a lively port town with Sanji, the afternoon sun warming your skin as the scent of fresh bread and spices drifted through the air. He was, as always, a step ahead, effortlessly weaving through the crowd with you trailing behind.
Despite the reason for this trip to restock the ship’s food supplies Sanji seemed to treat it as a personal mission to chat with every woman who so much as glanced his way. It was nothing new, really. Every compliment, every declaration of love, every swooning reaction from the ladies it was all part of who he was.
But damn, was it annoying sometimes.
“Sanji,” you called, catching up to him as he leaned over a stall, grinning at the vendor a particularly pretty woman selling fresh herbs. “Are we actually shopping, or are you just collecting plans for tonight ?”
He turned to you with that signature charm. “What, love? Are you getting jealous? My love you’re always at the top of my list” His smirk was teasing, playful, but something about the way he said it made your stomach twist.
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Not in the slightest. Just wondering if I should be carrying all these bags myself while you’re busy.”
Sanji straightened immediately. “I would never let a lady carry heavy bags in my presence!” He took them from your arms with ease, but before you could feel triumphant, he turned back to the vendor and gently took her hand. “Forgive me, mademoiselle, duty calls. But know that your beauty is as fresh as your basil.”
You clenched your jaw. That was it.
Without a word, you pivoted on your heel and strolled off into the bustling crowd, leaving him behind. You didn’t need to deal with this right now.
You made your way to a nearby fruit stall, inspecting the selection when a voice interrupted. “You seem like you have good taste,” a smooth voice said.
You glanced up to see a man tall, rugged, with a confident smile. He gestured toward the apples. “Which one would you recommend?”
You hummed thoughtfully, picking up a ripe one and handing it to him with a slight tilt of your head. “This one.”
He took it, fingers brushing yours. “Good choice. Maybe you should stick around and help me shop.”
You chuckled, more amused than anything, but before you could respond, a familiar presence appeared beside you.
Sanji.
The air shifted instantly. His easygoing charm was still there, but his stance was different subtle but firm. “Ah, my dear, there you are.” His hand found the small of your back, light but undeniably possessive. “I was worried when you ran off.”
The man’s gaze flickered between you two. “You two together?”
Sanji smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Something like that.”
Your breath hitched slightly at his tone, but you said nothing. You usually just let it play out, enjoying the rare sight of Sanji stewing in his own jealousy.
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, no, we’re not together.”
Sanji’s hand, which had been resting lightly against your back, lifted ever so slightly before dropping entirely.
The man smirked, clearly pleased with the answer. “That so?” He took a bite of the apple you’d chosen for him, eyes flickering over you with interest. “Then maybe”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s free to flirt with whoever she wants,” Sanji cut in, voice sharp with something unreadable. “don’t let me stop you”
You turned to him with an unimpressed look. “Oh? You suddenly have a problem with that?”
His smile was still there, but it was forced now, tight at the edges. “Of course not, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, but there was an edge to his voice, a tension in his stance.
You scoffed, folding your arms. “Then piss off, Sanji. Thought you had some more lovely ladies to chase after.”
Sanji’s eyebrow twitched. His whole demeanor shifted still composed, still that smooth talking flirt, but now there was something else lurking underneath. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling before flashing you a lazy smirk. “Fine. Do whatever you want, gorgeous.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, hands in his pockets, looking every bit as confident as always. But you saw it the tightness in his shoulders, the way his footsteps were just a little too heavy.
Good. Let him stew in it for a change.
You turned back to the guy, flashing a charming smile of your own. “Now, where were we?”
But even as you continued talking, a lingering heat stayed on your skin the memory of Sanji’s touch, his lingering gaze, and the way his voice had dropped just slightly when he called you gorgeous.
⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖
You continued chatting with the man, picking out a few more items for your collection, and although he was polite and engaging, your thoughts kept drifting back to Sanji. The way his hand had hovered at your back, the little flicker of jealousy in his eyes, the forced smoothness in his voice it was all so familiar, you felt it all too well and yet it made you feel strangely unsettled.
As the day passed, the random guy proved to be an easy companion, offering good suggestions for what to buy and being genuinely considerate when it came to picking out fresh produce and spices. He was easy to talk to, and the lighthearted banter between you two made the errands almost feel like a casual date. But every so often, you’d glance at the bags you were carrying, noticing that they were getting heavier as you loaded up, and that faint tug of regret would sneak in.
You missed the way Sanji always insisted on carrying your bags, even if it was over the top, and how he’d make sure you didn’t have to lift a finger when it came to food shopping, the way he’d make it fun with jokes, teasing, and making you feel like the only one in the world who mattered.
It wasn’t that this guy was bad company it was just… different. There was no shared bond, no shared history, no special moments where the two of you made meals together or laughed over burned rice or an over salted stew. It was a nice day, but it wasn’t the same as being with Sanji.
After a few more minutes, you noticed the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky. The port town was starting to empty out, and you realized you should probably start heading back to the ship. “I think I’ve got everything I need,” you said, your smile warm but thoughtful. “I should be getting back.”
The man nodded, giving you a polite smile. “Of course, I won’t keep you. Thanks for the company today it was nice to meet you.”
You waved it off, feeling the first pang of regret. “It was fun. Take care.”
Turning to leave, you started heading back to the dock, your steps a little slower than before. It felt like a quiet, pleasant day, but there was a knot in your chest. It was the first time you’d felt this way in a while like you were missing something, or maybe someone.
As you walked, your thoughts returned to Sanji again, to the way his voice had softened just slightly when he’d called you “gorgeous” before walking off. you’d find him later, and you could tell him exactly how much you missed his presence, his playful teasing, and the way he made everything feel like it had purpose.
But for now, you simply carried the bags of fresh food back to the ship, the smell of it reminding you of those quiet moments in the kitchen, when you two would bond over cooking together. It was a kind of peace you didn’t want to give up.
⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖
You climbed up the gangplank of the Sunny, arms full with bags of fresh produce and dry goods. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting warm golden hues over the ship. You had managed to grab most of the things on the list hopefully, Sanji had taken care of the rest. Knowing him, he probably had.
You exhaled, rolling your shoulders. The encounter in town still lingered in your mind, but you shook it off. Whatever. If Sanji wanted to act like a flirt one minute and get possessive the next, that was his problem.
Just as you were stepping onto the deck, a hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you to the side.
“Hey what the”
You turned to see Nami, her sharp eyes scanning your face like she was trying to read your thoughts.
“Okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “What the hell happened between you and Sanji?”
Your brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Nami gave you an unimpressed look. “Oh, don’t even try that with me,” she huffed. “Sanji came back before you, dumped the supplies in the kitchen, and has been stomping around ever since. He’s barely said a word, hasn’t flirted with a single woman on board, and even turned down Robin when she asked for tea.”
You blinked. He turned down Robin?
Nami leaned in slightly. “So I’ll ask again what happened?”
You clicked your tongue, shifting your weight. “Nothing. We just… went shopping, got separated, and that’s it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You said that way too vaguely.”
You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Look, I just got tired of his bullshit, alright? One minute he’s all over me, the next he’s flirting with some random girl, then when I start talking to someone, he’s got a problem with it? I’m not dealing with that.”
Nami’s lips twitched slightly like she wanted to smirk but was holding back. “So you made him jealous.”
“I wasn’t trying to make him jealous,” you muttered. “I just had enough of him acting like I’m special one second and then running off to the next girl the moment I blink.”
Nami hummed, clearly enjoying this. “Well, whatever you did, it worked. I haven’t seen him this grumpy in ages.” She smirked, giving you a knowing look. “So… what now?”
You hesitated. You weren’t really sure. Did you want to clear the air? Did you want to keep making him stew in it?
Before you could answer, a familiar voice called out from the kitchen.
“Oi!” Sanji’s voice was sharp, impatient. “If you’re done gossiping, some of us still have a ship to cook for!”
You and Nami exchanged glances.
“Yep,” she said, grinning. “You definitely got to him.” immediately both you and nami run to bring the bags to him
⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖
Dinner on the Sunny was as usual a lively affair laughter, conversation, and the clatter of dishes filling the air as everyone enjoyed Sanji’s cooking.
But tonight?
Tonight, there was an unmistakable tension radiating from the cook.
Sanji moved through the kitchen and dining area with his usual grace, but his movements were stiff, his usual flirtatious remarks absent. He set plates down with a little too much force, his jaw tight as he worked in silence.
“Oi, Sanji, what’s with the attitude?” Zoro grumbled, eyeing him over his plate. “You got your ass kicked in town or somethin’?”
Sanji shot him a glare. “Shut it, mosshead.”
Zoro raised an eyebrow but smirked knowingly, clearly enjoying whatever was going on.
You, on the other hand, kept your focus on your plate, trying not to let your own amusement show. So he’s still sulking, huh?
Across the table, Nami sent you a quick glance before leaning back with a satisfied smile. “Dinner’s great, Sanji,” she said, clearly baiting him. “It’s almost like you channeled all your pent up frustration into it.”
Sanji’s eyebrow twitched, but he forced a smile. “Glad you like it, Nami.”
You caught the way his gaze flickered toward you just for a second before he turned away and busied himself at the stove.
Robin, ever perceptive, let out a soft hum. “It’s rare to see our dear cook so tense. I wonder what could’ve caused it.”
Luffy, oblivious as always, just grinned as he stuffed his face. “As long as he keeps cooking, who cares?”
Sanji ignored them all, but the way he gripped the edge of the counter told you everything.
Oh, he was definitely still stewing over what happened in town.
⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖
With dinner finished and everyone helping to clean up, the tension lingering around Sanji was still very present. He scrubbed a pan with more force than necessary, his jaw tight, his usual smooth demeanor buried under whatever storm was brewing in his head.
You couldn’t help it. Seeing him like this so obviously riled up was just too entertaining to ignore.
So, you casually leaned against the counter beside him, watching as he worked. “You know,” you mused, “for someone who flirts like it’s his life’s mission, you sure get pissy when the tables turn.”
Sanji’s scrubbing stopped.
Slowly, he turned his head, giving you a side eye that could probably set something on fire. “Oh?” he said, voice deceptively calm. “And what exactly are you implying, sweetheart?”
You smirked. “I’m just saying… for someone who was practically jumping from one woman to another earlier, you got awfully moody when I talked to someone else.”
Sanji let out a sharp exhale, setting the pan down a little harder than necessary. He turned to you fully, leaning in just slightly, his presence radiating something different something charged.
“You think I’m jealous?” His voice was low, controlled, but you could see the way his fingers curled against the counter, how his eyes darkened just a little.
You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well, you have been sulking all evening.”
Sanji huffed out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Tch. You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” you teased, stepping just a little closer, “you still haven’t denied it.”
His jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw something flicker across his face something raw, something real. But just as quickly, he scoffed, shaking his head.
“Whatever,” he muttered, grabbing another dish to wash. “Go flirt with your little market boy if that’s what you want.”
You grinned. “Ohhh, so you are jealous.”
His grip tightened on the plate. “I’m not” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply before turning his glare on you. “Go away.”
You laughed, thoroughly enjoying this. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. It’s fun watching you try not to combust.”
Sanji shot you one last glare before turning back to the dishes, muttering something under his breath. But even with his back to you, you could see it the slight redness at the tips of his ears.
Oh yeah. You definitely had him right where you wanted him.
You watched him for a moment, enjoying the way his shoulders were tense, his hands working the dishes with a little too much force. It was rare to see Sanji like this off balance, rattled.
And you weren’t done playing with him just yet.
Stepping closer, you reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him down to your height before he could react.
Sanji barely had time to blink before your lips were near his ear, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper.
“You know,” you murmured, “for someone who claims to be a gentleman, you’re not acting very chivalrous right now.”
His breath hitched, but he didn’t move, frozen in place.
“I did it on purpose,” you admitted, your voice soft but smug. “I wanted to make you jealous.”
Sanji’s fingers twitched where they gripped the counter, but he still didn’t say a word.
Smirking, you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes stormy, intense, filled with something unreadable. And before he could say anything, you leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek.
You felt his body tense beneath your touch, his breath hitch once more.
Then, just as quickly, you let go, stepping back and flashing him a knowing smile.
“Thanks for dinner, Sanji,” you said casually,
you turned on your heel and walked away, feeling the weight of his stare burning into your back.
And for once, Sanji was the one left speechless.
You paused just before stepping out of the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder with a smirk. Sanji still hadn’t moved, his hands gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His expression was unreadable, his lips slightly parted like he wanted to say something but nothing came out.
Perfect.
“Oh, by the way,” you added, tilting your head just enough to watch his reaction, “I think I’ll go hang out with Zoro for a bit. At least he’ll give me some attention.”
Sanji twitched.
His eye visibly twitched.
The sheer offense that flashed across his face was priceless.
His mouth opened, then closed, as if he was scrambling for a comeback but all he could do was let out a sharp, frustrated exhale through his nose.
You almost burst out laughing right then and there. Instead, you gave him one last wink before disappearing down the hall, leaving him stewing in his jealousy.
Y/n: “Oh, don’t mind me, Sanji. I’ll just keep teasing you until you get all worked up, but I’m sure you’re completely unaffected, right?”
Keigo Takami | Hawks X Reader
𓅰 𓅬Smoke and Feathers𓅮 𓅯
I offer you angst and disgust and sadness and brainrot
masterlist
Synopsis: You love him, hes a whole hypocrite though
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯 The knock on your door came just as you had started to relax for the night. You glanced at the clock late, even for him. With a sigh, you padded over, unlocking it without much thought. Hawks never really needed an invitation.
Keigo Takami stood in your doorway, grinning like he always did. The kind of grin that put people at ease, but you knew him better than that. His golden eyes flickered across your face, scanning for something maybe exhaustion, maybe suspicion.
“Hey, partner,” he greeted, stepping inside before you could respond. “I was craving chicken, and I figured, why eat alone when I could bother you instead?”
“You could eat at your place,” you shot back, closing the door behind him.
“Nah,” he waved a hand. “Too quiet. Besides, your place is way fancier. Food tastes better after being in rich people’s apartments.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Keigo had been your friend since you debuted at eighteen. Four years of missions, battles, and shared exhaustion had formed a bond neither of you really questioned. But lately, something about him had been…off.
“Fine. I hope to not be super tired after this.”
“Obviously.” He threw an arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the door.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯
You ended up on top of a bridge after grabbing food, the city sprawled beneath you in glittering lights. It was peaceful up here just the occasional hum of distant traffic and the rustling of Keigo’s feathers when he shifted. You sat side by side, bags of takeout beside you, a breeze lifting your hair.
“You ever think we peaked too early?” Keigo mused, biting into a drumstick.
“Are you having a mid life crisis at twenty two?”
He snorted. “Maybe. I mean, don’t get me wrong I love being a pro hero, but sometimes I think… I dunno. If I weren’t one, maybe my love life wouldn’t suck so bad.”
You smirked. “Yeah, you and your long line of failed flings.”
Keigo sighed dramatically. “Ouch. What about you, huh? Any luck?”
You shook your head, taking a bite of your own food. “No time. Not that you’d know anything about that, right?”
“yeah yeah,” he grinned. Then, after a pause, “You ever think about settling down?”
You raised a brow. “We sound like old people right now.”
Keigo chuckled, but there was something in his expression something calculating.
“Must be nice, though,” he continued, staring down at the city. “Having people to rely on. To trust.”
You frowned. Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. But before you could reply, he kept going.
“Speaking of trust, I heard some interesting things lately,” he said casually, leaning back on his hands. “The League’s been moving differently. Word is, they’ve been pulling back from certain areas, regrouping.”
You tensed slightly, but forced yourself to stay relaxed. “Yeah? Didn’t hear anything about that.”
Keigo hummed, side eyeing you. “Funny. You usually have good ears for things like this.”
You knew what he was doing. He wasn’t outright accusing you wasn’t even asking directly. But he was fishing. He knew you’d been close with Dabi, and now he was prying without making it obvious.
You took another bite of food, playing it cool. “Well, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
Keigo smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Appreciate it.”
And just like that, the conversation shifted back to jokes and laughter. But you knew better. Hawks was good at this game at wearing masks, at pretending.
Keigo stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “You know, if we were normal, we’d probably be out right now. Living life, partying, dating.”
You snorted. “You’d probably be someone’s problem boyfriend.”
He gasped, “Wow. No faith in me at all?”
“None.”
Keigo laughed, but you could hear the strain underneath it. He was doing that thing again acting like everything was fine, like there wasn’t a million things weighing on his mind. You wanted to ask, but you already knew how that would go. He’d brush it off, give you some half truth, then change the subject.
Instead, you reached out, hesitating for only a moment before grabbing his hand. He blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t pull away.
“I mean it, Keigo,” you said, voice steady. “I know relationships are pretty much out of the picture for us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. You’re important to me. No matter how messy things get, I value every second I spend with you.”
For once, Keigo didn’t have a snarky response. His golden eyes softened, the usual playful glint replaced with something quieter, something more vulnerable. He squeezed your hand slightly, as if grounding himself.
“Damn,” he muttered, looking away. “You always gotta go and say stuff like that.”
You smiled. “It’s the truth.”
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I deserve that. Having people who actually care.”
You frowned. “Of course, you do.”
Keigo didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered to your intertwined hands, then back to the city. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn’t ready to say it.
“Thanks,” he finally murmured.
The word felt heavier than it should have, like there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t. And maybe he never would. But for now, this was enough.
You stayed like that for a while, sitting together on the bridge, hands still linked. For once, neither of you needed to fill the silence.
The silence didn’t last.
Keigo shifted beside you, the weight of his gaze pressing into your side. You could feel it before he even spoke the tension rolling off of him in waves, the way his body stiffened slightly.
“I just… I worry about you, you know?” His voice was light, casual, but you weren’t stupid. You could hear the edge to it. “The League isn’t exactly the safest crowd.”
Your stomach twisted. You knew where this was going.
“I don’t know anything, Keigo.”
He gave a breathy chuckle, but it lacked humor. “Come on, I know you’re smart. You’re always in the middle of things. You’re telling me you haven’t heard anything?”
You turned to him fully now, frowning. “I said I don’t know anything.”
Something in his expression wavered, just for a second. He rubbed a hand down his face, like he was trying to steady himself, but when he spoke again, there was something sharper underneath.
“I just” He exhaled harshly. “I don’t get it. Why won’t you tell me?”
That set something off in you. You pulled your hand away from his, frustration boiling over.
“Because there’s nothing to tell, Keigo! What, do you think I’m hiding things from you? That I’m playing some kind of double agent?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t want to think that.”
“But you do.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his feathers ruffling behind him. “You’re close with Dabi. You’re” He cut himself off, inhaling sharply before continuing. “I’ve seen what the League is capable of. And you” He gestured at you, eyes burning. “You’re getting wrapped up in it whether you realize it or not.”
You scoffed, standing up abruptly. “So that’s what this is, huh? You don’t trust me.”
Keigo stood too, stepping closer. “It’s not about trust. It’s about keeping you safe.”
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t about that. You’re trying to get answers out of me. Like I’m some suspect.”
Keigo’s usual mask was gone now no charming smiles, no lazy grins. His wings twitched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.
“The Commission” He stopped himself again, shutting his eyes for a moment before reopening them. “I have to do this.”
You felt something crack in your chest. “So that’s what I am to you? A job?”
“Of course not!” His voice was sharper than before, his usual control slipping. “But if they think you know something, they’re gonna keep pushing! And if you do know something and don’t tell me, then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“I already told you I don’t know anything! But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because you already made up your mind.”
His wings flared out, feathers rustling with tension. “You think I want to do this? You think I like treating you like this?”
You crossed your arms, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sure seems like it.”
Keigo let out a harsh breath, and suddenly, his frustration snapped into something else something desperate.
“I love you.”
The words hit like a shockwave, knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes widened, but he didn’t stop.
“I love you, okay?” His voice was rough, strained. “That’s why this is so fucking hard. That’s why I can’t just sit back and let you ” He exhaled shakily, shaking his head. “I can’t lose you.”
Your heart pounded in your chest. He was breathing hard, his golden eyes wild with emotion. You had never seen him like this never seen him so raw.
The tension between you was thick, the city buzzing below, but up here, it was just the two of you. And you had no idea what to say.
“Fuck, Keigo.”
Your voice came out barely above a whisper, but the weight of it was enough to make him flinch. His wings, usually so steady, twitched behind him, like he was fighting the urge to fly away.
You didn’t know what to say. Lord knows you loved him you would do anything for him. But this? This hurt. The way he was looking at you, the way he was questioning you like you were some kind of liability instead of his friend. Instead of someone who had been by his side for years.
Your hands moved on their own, reaching up to cup his face. He stiffened at first, but then melted into your touch, his breath uneven.
You searched his face, desperate to find the trust that should have been there. But all you could see was hurt.
Hurt because he knew this was wrong. Hurt because he had to do it anyway.
And longing. Longing for something he had convinced himself he couldn’t have. Longing because, despite everything, despite the lines being blurred and the masks slipping, he wanted you.
You swallowed hard, your thumbs tracing along his jaw. “You don’t have to do this,” you murmured.
Keigo let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before meeting yours again. “I do.” His voice cracked slightly. “You don’t get it. If I don’t… they will.”
Your grip on him tightened. “I don’t know anything, Keigo.”
His brows furrowed, frustration flickering across his face before it faded into something more vulnerable. “Then why do they think you do?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Dabi and I, fuck Keigo we just talk. After fights, after missions. That’s it.”
His eyes searched yours, and for the first time tonight, it felt like he was actually listening. Like he was really seeing you.
His hands came up, hesitating for only a second before resting over yours, keeping them against his face. His touch was warm, calloused from years of battle, but there was a softness there too. A silent plea.
“I don’t want to do this,” he whispered.
Your chest ached. “Then don’t.”
Keigo let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “If only it were that simple.”
You wanted to scream. You wanted to shake him and make him see that it was that simple. That he didn’t have to follow the Commission’s orders like a puppet, that he didn’t have to do this to you to himself.
But deep down, you knew that wasn’t how it worked. that was the worst part of all. The first tear slipped out before you could stop it.
Then another.
And another.
You didn’t even realize you were crying at first, too consumed by the frustration bubbling in your chest, the betrayal clawing at your throat. Your hands were still on his face, trembling now, and Keigo’s eyes widened as he felt the wetness of your tears bleed into his heart.
“Hey”
You sucked in a sharp breath, but it didn’t help. The weight of everything crashed over you all at once.
You had spent years fighting, bleeding, sacrificing to protect people to make the world safer, to do the right thing. And this was your reward? Being questioned like a criminal? Being treated like someone who couldn’t be trusted by the one person who should have known better?
You let out a broken, bitter laugh, your grip on Keigo tightening. “I’ve killed for this job,” you choked out. “I’ve bled for it. I’ve given everything to make sure people are safe. And the thanks I get is my best friend accusing me like I’m some kind of traitor?” Your voice cracked at the end, and you let your forehead drop against his. “The Commission making you accuse me?”
Keigo inhaled sharply, like your words physically hurt him.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and before you could say anything else, his arms were around you.
He pulled you into him, crushing you against his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you like a shield. His grip was almost desperate, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear entirely.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair, his voice raw. “Fuck I’m so sorry.”
But it didn’t fix anything.
It didn’t take away the ache in your chest, the sting of his accusations, the knowledge that if the Commission had its way, he’d be forced to keep pushing.
Still, you clung to him, your fists curling into his jacket. Because despite everything, despite the pain, despite the betrayal. You still loved him. that was the worst part of all.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But the weight in your chest, the sting in your throat it wasn’t going away.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breath, but it came out shaky and uneven. And as much as you wanted to stay in his arms, to pretend like none of this was happening, you couldn’t.
So you let go.
You pulled back, slipping from his hold, and immediately, his arms twitched like he wanted to reach for you again. But he didn’t.
You took a step back. Then another. His wings twitched, his golden eyes wide and desperate.
“I don’t…” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed, shaking your head. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Keigo stiffened, the color draining from his face. “What?”
You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to catch your breath. “This us it’s just gonna keep getting worse. The Commission’s already pushing you to treat me like a suspect, and I can’t I won’t keep going through this.”
His expression twisted, panic flickering behind his eyes. “If we stop seeing each other, they’ll just use that as another excuse to build a case against you.” His voice was sharp, urgent. “They’ll say you’re cutting ties because you have something to hide.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
His brows furrowed, frustration creeping into his features. “Of course it fucking matters.”
You let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Keigo, how am I supposed to be around you if I know every conversation we have is controlled?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “If I can’t even tell if you’re talking to me or to the Commission?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it, his throat working as he swallowed hard.
You took another step back. He took a step forward.
You held up a hand to stop him, your breath shaky. “I love you, Keigo.”
His whole body froze, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. His wings twitched again, his feathers rustling in the cool night air.
“I love you,” you repeated, your voice softer this time. “And I meant what I said I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. But I can’t trust you anymore.”
The words shattered something in him. You saw it happen in real time. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to grab you and shake you and beg you to take it back.
“Wait,” he said, and his voice almost sounded broken. “Just wait.”
But you shook your head.
“I can’t do this,” you whispered.
Keigo’s breath hitched, and for the first time since you had met him, you saw something you never thought you’d see in him.
Fear.
Not fear of the Commission. Not fear of the League. Fear of losing you.
And as you turned away, his hands curled into fists, his mind racing with the realization that the Commission had just done the one thing he never thought possible.
They had pitted you against each other.
And he had let them.
The moment you disappeared from sight, the weight of it all crashed down on him.
Keigo staggered back, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His wings drooped, feathers trembling as if they could barely hold themselves up anymore.
You were gone.
His hands came up to his face, fingers curling into his hair as he let out a harsh, broken breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, but all he could see was you. The way your voice cracked when you told him you loved him. The way your eyes shined with betrayal. The way you walked away.
His chest felt tight too tight.
He had spent his whole life playing this game, moving pieces around the board, following orders, doing what needed to be done. He had done it all without hesitation, without attachment, without caring.
Because caring got people killed. Caring made you weak.
At least, that’s what he had always believed.
Then you happened.
And he hadn’t even realized how much you meant to him until he was watching you slip through his fingers.
A sharp, choked noise tore from his throat as he staggered forward, his hands gripping at his hair. His chest hurt. He had never felt this before not even as a kid, not even when he was forced into a life that wasn’t his own.
Because back then, it hadn’t mattered.
But you had mattered.
You had trusted him. You had let him in, had told him how much he meant to you. And in return?
He had destroyed it.
His knees hit the metal of the bridge, and he barely even registered it. His wings curled around him, shielding him from the rest of the world, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Because for the first time in his life He had let someone in. And he had ruined it.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯
The television flickered in the dimly lit room, its glow casting soft shadows against the walls. Keigo Takami otherwise known as Hawks leaned back in his seat, golden eyes trained on the screen as a familiar figure appeared.
It had been months.
Keigo’s eyes followed every headline, every news segment, every article that mentioned you.
Y/n Soars to New Heights: A Pro Hero On the Rise
Hero Y/n’s Daring Rescue Saves Dozens in Quirk Incident
Top 10 Pro Hero Y/n: The Future of Japan’s Hero Society
Each headline was another stab to his chest. He saw the numbers, the statistics, the articles that spoke of your bravery, your skill, your rise to the top. The world had watched you climb, and you had done it with grace, with skill, with everything he knew you were capable of.
“Once again, Japan’s rising star, Y/n, has taken down another villain with efficiency and grace!”
The anchor’s voice carried an air of excitement, painting you as a beacon of hope for the country. Footage played of you in action your movements sharp and calculated, your quirk flowing seamlessly between offense and defense. The crowd erupted in cheers, reporters clamoring for your attention, yet you only offered them a polite nod before moving on, as if there was always more work to be done.
Keigo exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it between his fingers.
He wasn’t surprised. You had always been relentless in your pursuit of justice. He had seen it firsthand, the way you carried the weight of expectations without complaint. But now, watching you through the cold lens of a camera, he could see what no one else seemed to notice.
You were drowning yourself in work.
News articles flooded his phone.
“Japan’s Heroine Y/n Soars Higher Than Ever!”
“Y/n: The New Symbol of Hope?”
“Nonstop Victories, But At What Cost?”
The last one caught his attention. Clicking on the article, he scanned through the words. Some journalist had picked up on it too the dark circles beneath your eyes, the way your posture stiffened ever so slightly after every battle. But the world only saw the hero. They saw the unwavering smile, the power, the perfection.
Keigo knew better.
You were running yourself ragged, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
His hands clenched into fists. He had never felt so useless before. In the past, he would have sent a teasing message, a check in disguised as banter, just to make sure you were okay. But now, his wings were clipped metaphorically and literally. The mission he was on kept him far from the public eye, and any contact with you would compromise everything.
Still, he watched.
Night after night, he kept up with your hero work through screens and articles, seeing the light in your eyes dim just a little more each time. The world was blind to it, too enamored by your victories to notice the toll they took on you.
Keigo sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
“Dammit, Y/n.”
He wanted to tell you to slow down. That you didn’t have to carry everything alone. But he knew you you wouldn’t listen, not when you thought the weight was yours to bear.
But as he watched from afar, he saw something else something he knew he couldn’t ignore.
You were drowning.
It wasn’t hard to see, not if you looked closely enough. There were the faint bags under your eyes, the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes in the photos. He could see it in the way you moved quick, efficient, but with a certain rigidity, like you were trying to keep the pieces of yourself together.
The interviews, the press events, the rescue missions. You were out there always out there. Never stopping. Always moving.
Keigo had seen this before. It was the kind of thing that had broken him.
The thing he was now witnessing in you.
You were using your work as a shield. You were burying yourself in it, pretending that the mess of the world, the constant need to be the best, would somehow fill the hollow space where everything else had fallen apart. You were drowning in your responsibilities, in the expectations of others. And he hated himself for not being able to stop it.
He couldn’t reach you.
He couldn’t be the person you needed.
The Commission had made it clear the moment you walked away they had made sure that there would be no contact, no easy path to you. They had pushed him away, forced him to see you as an obstacle, a potential threat.
He had followed the orders. He had stayed away.
But every day, every night, when he saw the photos, heard the reports of your latest success, it felt like another punch to the gut. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t protect you. And worse he was the reason you had shut him out.
You deserve better than this, he thought, each time he saw a picture of you smiling, though it never quite reached your eyes. You deserve better than me.
The most recent headline:
Y/n’s Heroic Feat: A Mission Gone Wrong Injuries and Recovering, But Will She Stay at the Top?
The article detailed how you had barely made it out of a dangerous mission, sustained injuries, and had pushed through it, despite the odds. The photos showed you at the hospital, a bruise on your cheek, your expression cold and distant as you posed for the cameras. Your usual confidence was there, but it was muted like a shell of yourself.
Keigo’s fingers clenched around the coffee cup in his hand, his gaze locked on the screen.
There it was again you were hurting.
But he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t protect you. The Commission had made sure of that.
Every day, it ate at him. The guilt. The fear. The constant ache in his chest. And all he could do was watch.
Because that’s all he was allowed to do.
He turned away from the screen and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He couldn’t keep doing this.
But as much as he wanted to move on, as much as he wanted to focus on his own missions and do what the Commission had trained him for, he knew he couldn’t.
You were out there, giving everything for a world that barely understood you.
And he was here, stuck in a cage of his own making.
“Fuck,” Keigo whispered to himself. “I miss you.”
But you were gone. And he was the one who had pushed you away.
That was the price he paid for trying to be the hero everyone needed. The cost of being a tool of the Commission.
He couldn’t even hate them for it. Not when it was his own failure that had led to this.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯
Keigo sat in the Commission’s office, his expression neutral as he listened to the orders being laid out before him. The air was stale, the weight of the conversation pressing down on his shoulders. He knew what was coming before they even said it.
“Your next mission is infiltration.”
The head of the Commission, a woman with sharp eyes and a voice that left no room for argument, slid a file across the table. Keigo barely glanced at it. He already knew whose name was inside.
“The League of Villains is growing stronger. We need someone on the inside. Someone they’ll trust. You have the skills to make this work, Hawks.”
His fingers tightened around the edge of the folder.
“You’ve already shown your ability to keep a close eye on potential threats before.”
The words weren’t just words. They were deliberate. A reminder.
A reminder that they had once given him a different mission to keep tabs on you.
And what had they accused you of?
“Suspicious relationships with certain individuals.”
“Questionable morals due to prolonged conversations with known villains.”
“Potential compromise to the hero system.”
All because you had spoken to someone deemed dangerous. All because you hadn’t followed their rigid, black and white definition of justice.
And now, they were telling him to do the same thing.
A bitter laugh curled at the edges of his thoughts, though he kept his face unreadable. So it was fine when it was for them? When it was for the mission?
Hypocrites.
Keigo wanted to tell them to go to hell. That he saw through their bullshit. That if they thought he hadn’t noticed how they twisted things to suit their needs, they were dead wrong.
But he didn’t.
Because despite the anger curling in his gut, despite the guilt gnawing at his ribs, he still cared.
He cared about the future. About a world where kids didn’t have to grow up training to fight for their lives. A world where people had too much time on their hands instead of living in constant fear.
A world where you were safe.
So he bit his tongue.
“Understood,” he said instead, voice smooth and unwavering.
The Commission nodded, satisfied.
As the meeting wrapped up, Keigo tucked the folder under his arm and left the room. His steps were light, easy, just like always. But inside, his thoughts swirled like a storm.
⸻
Later that night, he sat on the rooftop of a tall building, the city stretching out beneath him. The folder lay open beside him, the moonlight illuminating the pages.
Dabi.
He had never spoken to the guy. Only knew what the files told him. Ruthless. Unpredictable. Dangerous. The League’s arsonist. The only reason Dabi hadn’t been fully exposed was because he covered his tracks well.
And yet, there was one thing in these files that stood out more than anything else.
You knew him.
You talked to him sometimes. That alone had been enough for the Commission to put you under watch. Enough for them to wonder if you could be turned into a threat.
Keigo exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
It felt wrong. All of it.
But he had already made his choice.
If playing the villain meant securing a world where you wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder every day, then he would do it.
Even if it meant stepping into the same shadows they once accused you of standing in.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯
It wasn’t like you had planned for things to turn out this way.
But after everything with Hawks after the accusations, the betrayal, the months of silence you had found yourself somewhere you never expected.
With Dabi.
It hadn’t happened overnight. At first, he was just another thorn in your side, another ghost you kept running into when the night was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. But for whatever reason, the two of you had fallen into an odd sort of rhythm.
Dabi didn’t ask questions. Didn’t pry. He didn’t look at you with pity or expectation. He was just there, in the same way you were floating, untethered, existing in the spaces where heroes and villains blurred.
And maybe that’s why you were here now.
The scent of burnt concrete and gunpowder still clung to the air, mixing with the sharp, acrid smell of Dabi’s scorched skin. The battle had ended not long ago, and now, the two of you sat in the dimly lit hideout, the flickering light casting long shadows across the worn out walls.
“You looked like shit out there,” you teased, stretching your legs out in front of you as you leaned back against the couch.
Dabi scoffed, rolling his shoulder with a slight wince. “Yeah? And you looked like a damn try hard. What, gunning for some hero points?”
You snorted. “Please, like I need to impress anyone.”
Dabi grinned, a lazy, knowing smirk as he tapped ash from his cigarette onto the floor. “Right, right. Forgot you’re already Miss Popular out there. Japan’s sweetheart.”
“You’re just mad I had you on your knees.”
“dont make shit up.”
“You were about to eat pavement, dude.”
He flicked the cigarette away, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee. “Tch. Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes, tossing a nearby rag at him. Dabi caught it effortlessly, shaking his head. “Annoying.”
Before you could respond, the door creaked open.
Your breath caught.
For a moment, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you. It had been months months since you’d seen him.
Yet, there he stood.
Hawks.
He looked the same as always messy blond hair, sharp golden eyes, wings tucked neatly behind him. But there was something off about seeing him now, here, in this space. Like an image that didn’t belong in the same frame.
Your reaction must have been obvious, because Dabi’s gaze flicked between the two of you, a slow, amused smirk creeping onto his face.
“Well, well,” Dabi mused, leaning back. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing a celebrity tonight.”
Hawks smiled easy, smooth, like he was slipping into a familiar rhythm. “What can I say? Thought I’d drop by, see what all the hype’s about.”
His eyes flickered to you, just for a second.
You were still staring. You hated that you were still staring.
Months. Months. And now he was just… here?
“Guess you finally wanted to be cool,” Dabi said, standing up slowly. “Took you long enough, bird boy.”
Hawks let out a laugh, loose and effortless. “Hey, better late than never, right?”
Dabi tilted his head, watching him. Sizing him up. “So, what? You lookin’ to make friends?”
“Something like that,” Hawks said, slipping his hands into his pockets. His tone was light, playful, but you knew him well enough to catch the calculation behind his words.
Dabi must’ve caught it, too, because his smirk widened slightly, like he was deciding just how much he wanted to play with his new toy.
“Sweetheart,” Dabi suddenly drawled, shifting toward you, “you didn’t tell me you and our new guest had history.”
You felt your stomach drop.
Hawks didn’t react.
Not even a twitch.
Dabi, of course, wasn’t done. He took a step closer, slinging an arm around your shoulder in an almost lazy manner, fingers drumming lightly against your arm.
Hawks’ gaze flicked to the movement quick, calculated. But he didn’t break.
Not even a hint of irritation, no change in posture. He just smiled, golden eyes still half lidded with that same effortless charm.
“Guess she didn’t think it was important,” Hawks mused, voice smooth as ever. “Can’t say I blame her.”
Dabi’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on your shoulder, and you felt the heat of his skin even through the fabric. He was testing. Poking at the edges.
“Mm. Maybe,” Dabi mused. “Or maybe she just didn’t want you to know.”
“Now, why would she do that?” Hawks asked, tilting his head, his voice still perfectly even.
You could feel the tension between them, even if it was all wrapped in easy smiles and playful words.
You exhaled, finally moving.
“Alright, enough,” you muttered, shoving Dabi’s arm off you. “I’ve had enough for the night.”
Your tone was casual, but you knew you knew that your hands were trembling just a little.
Dabi let his arm fall away easily, watching you with amusement. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. We were just getting started.”
You shook your head, already walking past them, needing space. “Not in the mood for whatever weird macho thing you two are doing. Try not to kill each other.”
You didn’t look back.
Didn’t want to see the way Hawks was watching you.
Didn’t want to think about why he was here. And definitely didn’t want to acknowledge the way your heart was still racing.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯
The sky burned.
Smoke curled into the air, thick and suffocating, a mix of fire, blood, and the crumbling remains of the Meta Liberation Army’s last stand. The battlefield was a mess of clashing wills heroes and villains tearing through each other in a violent symphony of destruction.
And at the center of it all, Hawks stood with blood on his hands.
Twice lay lifeless at his feet.
His chest rose and fell heavily, his wings twitching with adrenaline, but there was no time to breathe, no time to process.
Because standing just a few meters away, fire licking at his fingertips, was Dabi.
The villain’s usual smirk was absent. His blue eyes burned hotter than his flames, sharp with something Hawks couldn’t quite place anger, satisfaction, something in between.
“You heroes are all the same,” Dabi muttered, taking a slow step forward. “Always so high and mighty. Always so convinced you’re better than us.”
Hawks tightened his grip on his remaining feathers. “You think Twice would’ve been better off if I let him go?”
Dabi’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Oh, don’t give me that crap. This wasn’t about saving people. You’re just another pawn doing whatever the Commission tells you, right? Good little lapdog.”
Hawks didn’t flinch, but the words dug in.
Dabi’s flames flickered to life, casting shadows across the ruined battlefield. “Tell me, Hawks. Did it feel good? Taking down a guy who just wanted to protect his friends?”
Hawks exhaled, steadying himself. “I’m not getting into this with you.”
But Dabi wasn’t finished.
His smirk returned, slow and deliberate, and Hawks didn’t like it.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Dabi mused. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that righteous hero image of yours, huh?”
Hawks knew what this was. Psychological warfare. Dabi was trying to dig into his head, to make him hesitate. But Hawks couldn’t afford to he needed to finish this quickly.
A red feather shot toward Dabi in a blur of speed.
But Dabi was already moving.
Flames roared to life, meeting the attack head on, burning the feather into nothing. He closed the distance between them fast, forcing Hawks back with a wall of searing heat.
“You really don’t like talking about yourself, do you?” Dabi taunted, voice dripping with amusement. “Always gotta focus on the mission. But let’s talk about something more interesting.”
Hawks didn’t respond he couldn’t afford to. His feathers moved like blades, slicing through the air, but Dabi dodged, relentless in his approach.
And then Dabi said something that made Hawks’ blood freeze.
“She’s been treating me real nice, you know.”
Hawks’ entire body tensed.
Dabi grinned, sensing the shift. “Ah, so you do care.”
Hawks’ feathers shot forward in a flurry, faster, sharper, but Dabi dodged with ease, the flames around him growing wilder.
“You should see her, Hawks,” Dabi continued, voice smooth, taunting. “The way she looks at me. The way she lets me touch her.”
Something inside Hawks snapped.
He moved without thinking, faster than before, closing the distance between them with a brutal efficiency. His feathers struck harder, aiming for vital points.
But Dabi wasn’t done.
“She never mentioned it?” Dabi dodged, twisting out of the way at the last second. “How we spend our special time together?”
Hawks’ next attack wasn’t clean. It wasn’t precise. It was pure anger.
His feathers slashed out with no restraint.
Dabi barely managed to throw up a wall of fire in time, skidding back as the force of the attack cut through his jacket, slicing against his skin.
“Ohh,” Dabi let out a low whistle, shaking out his arms. “Touched a nerve, huh?”
Hawks didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His heart was pounding.
Dabi laughed, slow and deliberate, eyes flickering with something dangerous.
“That’s what I thought.”
But Hawks didn’t let him say anything else. Because in the next second, he was on him.
This fight was over.
𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯
The hospital room was dimly lit, the only source of light spilling in from the window. It was quiet too quiet. The kind of silence that followed catastrophe, where the air was too still, too heavy, as if the world itself was still trying to understand the weight of what had happened.
Your body ached with every breath. The bandages wrapped around your torso were tight, holding together wounds that had nearly been fatal. Every movement reminded you of how close you had been to not making it out.
And yet, all of that the pain, the exhaustion, the weight of the war it all faded away the moment the door opened.
You almost didn’t turn.
You had spent weeks expecting to see him, waiting, hoping but he never came.
Not when you needed him. Not when everything fell apart.
And yet, something in you recognized him before you even looked.
When you finally did, you felt your breath hitch.
Keigo.
He stood in the doorway, alive but barely.
His wings were a shadow of what they once were. The red feathers that had once been so vibrant were scorched, burnt at the edges, some missing entirely. His body was wrapped in bandages, his movements slower, weaker. But what hit you the hardest was the mask strapped over his mouth.
A speaker had been attached to it, taking over for the voice he had nearly lost in the fire.
Dabi’s flames had nearly ruined him.
You sat there, frozen, staring.
Your heart clenched so painfully it felt like another wound had opened up inside you.
And then you moved.
The blanket was thrown off, the pain screaming through your body as you forced yourself to stand. Your legs were unsteady, but you didn’t care. You needed to reach him.
Your hands curled into fists before you could stop yourself, and the moment you were close enough you hit him.
He didn’t move.
Your fist landed against his chest, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to feel it.
Then you hit him again.
And again.
“You!” Your voice cracked, emotion clogging your throat, burning behind your eyes.
He didn’t stop you.
“You accused me” Another hit, weaker than the last. “You said I was playing both sides that I wasn’t loyal!”
Your breath was coming in ragged gasps now, your vision blurring as you kept hitting him, kept pushing him, as if forcing him to feel just a fraction of the hurt you had been carrying.
“Then you” Your fists trembled as they pressed against him. Your knees felt weak. Your voice cracked.
“You did the exact same thing.”
The words barely made it past your lips before they were swallowed by a sob.
You had tried so hard to stay angry. To hold onto the rage, the betrayal because anger was easier than hurt.
But seeing him now, standing in front of you alive but barely holding on It was too much.
Your fists loosened, curling into his shirt instead, gripping him as if he would disappear if you let go.
“I thought you were dead.”
Your voice broke entirely, and the dam inside you cracked, the emotions you had been holding in for months finally spilling over.
The nights spent staring at the news, searching for any sign that he was still alive.
The silence stretching on for too long.
The fear that you had lost him forever.
Your body trembled as you pressed your forehead against his chest, the sobs wracking through you with the force of everything you had been desperately trying to bury.
And then finally he moved.
His hands rose, hesitating for only a second before they touched you.
One cradled the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. The other wiped at your tears with his thumbs, his touch impossibly gentle despite the roughness of his gloves.
And then he did something he shouldn’t have.
He pulled off the mask.
You gasped. “Keigo”
He shouldn’t have. You knew it. He knew it.
But when he spoke, his voice was hoarse and broken, ruined by the burns, by the damage that had permanently scarred him but the words hit harder than anything else.
“I missed you.”
Your breath caught.
His thumb traced the tear streaked path down your cheek, his touch trembling, but steady.
“I never” His voice faltered, the pain clear in the way his throat choked on the words, but he forced them out anyway. “I never stopped regretting it.”
Your fingers tightened in his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.
“Letting them control me,” he rasped. “Letting them ruin this. Ruin us.”
His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven, shaky.
“I’m so sorry.”
You swallowed, your tears still slipping down your cheeks, your emotions still raw, still aching.
But you could see it now the weight he carried. The exhaustion in his eyes. The guilt that had been eating him alive from the inside out.
Even if he had a hundred lifetimes, even if he was reborn again and again, you knew.
He would regret this every single time.
Regret losing you.
Your fingers uncurled from his shirt, moving up to cup his face, your thumbs tracing along his cheekbones. His skin was warm beneath your touch, warmer than you remembered. Maybe from the burns. Maybe from the way he was looking at you.
You swallowed the lump in your throat.
“You should’ve come back sooner.”
His eyes softened, his hands still cradling your face, thumbs still brushing over your skin as if trying to memorize the shape of you, to convince himself that you were real.
“I know.” His voice was so hoarse, so wrecked, but still so him.
Your chest ached at the sound of it.
“You scared me,” you whispered, fingers curling into his skin. “I thought ” You swallowed, voice trembling. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
His breath hitched.
“You think I didn’t feel the same?” His forehead pressed more firmly against yours. “Every day, I thought about you.”
Your heart clenched.
“I don’t want to do this again,” you whispered. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
His grip tightened. “You won’t.”
There was so much promise in those two words, so much desperation, as if he was trying to will them into being true.
You weren’t sure if you could believe it. Not yet. Not with the war still raging, not with everything still uncertain. But you wanted to.
Dabi : “Man, your girl’s been treating me real nice lately. We’ve had some… special time together.”
Hawks: “Shut up.”
Dabi: “What? You don’t like hearing about how sweet she is to me? How she—”
Hawks: “CONGRATULATIONS! YOU JUST WON A FREE ASS WHOOPING!”
-
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