MY BABY BOY NEEDS LOVE AND ATTENTION

Bruce Wayne | Batman X Reader

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ Gotham Socialite ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

masterlist

I want to make some batman themed oneshots where it explores a relationship between you and him.

EDITED- changed a bit of dialogue and description because I want the reader to be super cool and amazing

High society, meet the reporter reader. Reporter reader, meet Bruce Wayne

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Gotham’s elite are as gaudy as the chandeliers hanging above them. expensive, bright, and utterly useless. The grand ballroom of the Gotham City Opera House is filled with them, men and women draped in designer gowns and tailored suits, sipping champagne as if their wealth isn’t built on the backs of the people suffering outside these marble walls.

You move through the crowd like a ghost, unseen despite being one of the few people here actually worth listening to. They invited you because of your work because your name is attached to articles Gotham’s wealthy pretend not to read but secretly obsess over. You don’t write puff pieces about Gotham’s heroes; you write about its monsters. You dig into their minds, their motivations. Why does Edward Nygma need to prove he’s the smartest man in the room? Why does the Joker turn his suffering into a performance? What makes a villain tick? That’s what you care about.

Not this.

Not the empty smiles. Not the soulless small talk. Not the way these people clutch their designer purses like they contain anything of real value.

You exhale sharply through your nose, taking another sip of your drink just to give yourself something to do. It tastes expensive but meaningless, like everything else here.

As you turn to leave, you accidentally bump into someone a woman in a tight, sequined dress that probably costs more than you’ve made in the last six months.

“Oh, my God,” she snaps, stepping back as if you just assaulted her. “Are you serious?”

Your brows lift. “Oh, relax. You’ll live.”

Her expression twists in outrage, but before she can respond, a man approaches tall, broad shouldered, with a perfectly practiced smile. And just like that, she flips a switch.

“Oh my God, Bruce!” she gasps, laughing like she wasn’t just seconds away from throwing a fit. She rests a hand on his arm the same arm she previously flung up in disgust when you bumped into her. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up tonight! You never come to these things anymore.” You watch with mild disgust as she transforms in real time. It’s like watching an AI desperately try to mimic human emotion.

“Yeah,” you mutter, just loud enough to be heard. “hmmm I might see myself out”

Bruce Wayne glances at you then, his interest piqued. You don’t fawn over him. Don’t preen or attempt to charm your way into his good graces. No, you just look at him like you’re wholly unimpressed. Its not that he wasn’t appealing. Of course you found him attractive. Though finding him attractive felt a little like betraying the people you grew up around. Just because you escaped the extremely poor doesn’t mean you want to abide by it.

“You know,” you say, tilting your head, “for a guy whose while company is built on working with the community , you don’t seem to have much of a grip on reality.”

The woman beside him gasps in horror, clutching Bruce’s arm even tighter, but you’re not done.

“This whole act,” you gesture vaguely at him, “isn’t cute. I mean no disrespect though, go party and go crazy.” Your eyes lock onto his with something sharper than hatred indifference. “I don’t know how you stomach it. It’s honestly an insult to humans.” Silence settles over you like a fog. The woman looks scandalized, staring at you as if you just spit in her drink.

Bruce, on the other hand, just looks intrigued. His usual mask of carefree billionaire playboy falters just for a second. His blue eyes search yours, something thoughtful flickering behind them. Then, just as quickly as it had cracked, the mask slides back into place. He lets out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck in feigned sheepishness. “Well,” he says, flashing that same easygoing smile he always wears in public, “can’t please everyone, I guess.”

The woman beside him giggles like an idiot, but you just roll your eyes. Bruce Wayne is a good actor, you’ll give him that and judging by the look in his eye, he looks a little off put.

You don’t give Bruce another glance as you turn on your heel, moving toward the exit with the same single minded determination as a prisoner inching toward an open cell door. You’ve had enough of this place enough of the fake smiles, the rehearsed laughter, the suffocating air of money and ego pressing in on you from all sides.

Bruce watches you go.

He should just let you leave. He should turn his attention back to whatever mindless conversation he was meant to be entertaining tonight. But he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze follows you, his interest snaring on something he hadn’t expected.

You very evidently don’t belong here. Not in the way these people do, with their polished exteriors and empty souls. He mentally jokes that press training might be on a to do list for your manager.

No, you move like someone who doesn’t care to belong. Which from his relationship woth selina, Its definitely evident that women from the narrows dont care. You weave through the room with an awkwardness that’s both endearing and painfully obvious dodging trays of champagne like they’re landmines, sidestepping small talk with barely concealed irritation. Your distaste is written all over you, from the way your fingers tighten around your glass to the way your shoulders hunch slightly, as if trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable.

But that’s the thing. You are noticeable. More than anyone here. Bruce takes in the way you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the way you mutter something under your breath when a socialite nearly clips you with a careless turn. He watches as you catch your footing after bumping into a server, your apology quick and sincere so different from the sneering entitlement of the rest of the room.

A quiet chuckle leaves his mouth as he watches you finally get to a corner. Bruce’s lips press together, something flickering in his chest that he doesn’t have time to name.

He should let you go. Instead, he steps forward, slipping through the crowd with the kind of practiced ease that only someone used to wearing masks can manage. You don’t notice him until he’s beside you, his voice cutting through the noise of the room like a knife.

“You’re not very good at this,” he says, amusement lacing his words.

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “At what?”

Bruce gestures vaguely to the room. “Blending in.”

A scoff leaves your lips as you finally reach the exit, one hand already pushing against the heavy door. “Yeah, well,” you say, sparing him one last glance, “I’m used to this kind of thing.” And then you’re gone.

Bruce watches the door swing shut behind you, his reflection staring back at him in the glass. For the first time all night, he finds himself smiling.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Bruce barely makes it through the front doors of Wayne Manor before he’s pulling at his bow tie, loosening the suffocating knot that had been pressing against his throat all evening. The moment the silk slides free, he exhales, rolling his shoulders as if shedding the weight of the night along with it.

The grand doors swing shut behind him, the quiet of the manor swallowing the distant hum of Gotham’s high society. The transition is immediate, like stepping out of a suffocatingly bright stage and into the cool embrace of shadow. The mask the one made of careless grins and charmingly vague conversation falls away as effortlessly as the jacket he shrugs off, tossing it onto the nearest chair without care.

From the hall, Alfred watches the display with an arched brow, ever the picture of poised amusement. “Welcome home, Master Wayne. I see the evening was as eventful as anticipated.”

Bruce sighs, running a hand down his face. “That might be an understatement.”

Alfred steps forward, hands clasped neatly behind his back. “I assume you spent the night ok though master wayne?”

“Something like that.” Bruce rolls his neck, loosening the last remnants of his socialite persona. “A lot of people talking without actually saying anything. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

“The inevitable I hear,” Alfred muses, “you always seem equally miserable every time you return.”

Bruce lets out a humorless chuckle, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt. “That’s because it never gets any less exhausting.”

Alfred gives him a knowing look before stepping toward the chair where Bruce had carelessly discarded his jacket. He picks it up with practiced ease, shaking his head. “One of these days, you might consider hanging these properly.”

“I consider it every time,” Bruce remarks, already making his way toward the hidden entrance to the Batcave. “Just never quite get around to it.”

Alfred merely sighs, following him with a well worn patience. “Shall I prepare something for you to eat? Or will you be brooding on an empty stomach this evening?”

“Not brooding,” Bruce corrects as he reaches the hidden panel in the wall. The mechanism clicks, revealing the passage leading down into the cave. “Just… following a curiosity.”

Alfred hums, ever perceptive. “Would this curiosity have anything to do with the young woman who managed to offend half the room tonight?”

Bruce pauses mid step, glancing back at him. “You heard about that?”

Alfred gives him a pointed look. “Master Wayne, the moment someone dares to tell off a socialite at an event like that, it becomes the only thing worth discussing. I’d be surprised if her picture isn’t already pinned on some poor soul’s dartboard.”

Bruce huffs out a short laugh before shaking his head. “I’ll be in the cave.”

Alfred merely nods, already knowing there will be no convincing him otherwise.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ The Batcave hums softly with the sounds of running water and flickering monitors, a stark contrast to the suffocating luxury of the ballroom he had left behind. Here, Bruce is no longer Gotham’s golden boy. No longer the playboy billionaire.

Here, he is himself.

He settles into the chair before the Batcomputer, fingers swiftly typing as he pulls up a search. He hadn’t planned on looking you up. At least, that’s what he tells himself. But there was something about you something about the way you moved through that room, awkward yet unyielding. You didn’t belong there, and you didn’t care to. The way you had looked at him, unimpressed and disinterested, had been a rarity in a world where everyone was either too enamored by his wealth or too busy trying to figure out what game he was playing.

His fingers move with purpose, bringing up your name, your records. The first thing he finds is that, unlike many of the people who had surrounded you that night, your life had been anything but privileged.

You were born and raised in the Narrows Gotham’s forgotten underbelly. A place where opportunities were scarce, and survival was a skill honed from childhood. Your record is clean remarkably so, for someone who grew up in the part of Gotham where crime wasn’t a choice but a necessity. No arrests, no notable scandals. You had gone to school, worked through college, and carved out a place for yourself in a city that did everything it could to swallow people whole.

But what catches his attention the most are your writings. Articles. Interviews. Pieces dissecting the minds of Gotham’s most notorious criminals. Not in the sensationalized way tabloids did, but with an analytical depth that spoke of genuine understanding. You weren’t interested in painting them as mere villains or glorifying their crimes you wanted to understand them.

Your work focused not on the spectacle of their actions, but on the why. The motivations. The cracks in Gotham’s system that had allowed them to exist in the first place. You had interviewed ex gang members, street level criminals, and even those who had managed to escape Gotham’s cycle of violence. You wrote about the lives that high society ignored the people who lived in the shadows cast by the city’s towering skyscrapers.

You gave them voices.

Bruce leans back in his chair, studying the screen. You had lived a normal life at least, as normal as someone from the Narrows could. You had no connections to the criminal underworld beyond your work. No secret vendettas, no affiliations.

And yet, your writing showed a perspective that very few people in Gotham ever took the time to understand. You weren’t just observing Gotham’s worst. You were showing that they had stories worth telling.

Bruce’s eyes flicker over the last article on the screen, the words settling in his mind.

“Society has already decided who deserves redemption and who doesn’t. But if you never listen to someone’s story, how do you know they weren’t doomed from the start?”

His fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before he finally leans forward again, exiting the search.

Curiosity, he tells himself. That’s all this is and yet, as the screen fades back to black, he can’t shake the feeling that you might be someone worth paying attention to.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ If you wanted your stories to be heard, you had to be seen. That’s what your publicist told you. That’s what you repeated to yourself as you stepped through the towering entrance of yet another Gotham high society event, where old money mingled with new power, and influence dripped from every word spoken between sips of champagne.

You didn’t belong here. You never did. But belonging wasn’t the point.

This was the price of being heard. If you wanted your work to matter if you wanted people to actually read what you wrote, to listen to the stories Gotham’s forgotten had to tell you had to stand in rooms like this. Not because you cared about these people or their whispered scandals, but because they had the power to shape the city’s narrative, whether they deserved that power or not.

And so, despite the suffocating air of wealth and self importance, you showed up.

The ballroom was an exhibition of excess. A long, lavish table stretched the length of the room, set with gold rimmed plates, crystal glasses, and floral centerpieces so elaborate they could have easily funded an entire year’s worth of rent for a struggling Gotham family. Conversations bubbled up around you hollow laughter, polite murmurs, the occasional hushed gossip passed between sculpted lips.

You found your seat. And nearly laughed. Right beside Bruce Wayne. Of course.

You weren’t sure if this was some kind of twisted joke or if the hosts had simply thrown darts at a seating chart, but there it was your name card placed neatly next to Gotham’s most beloved. Maybe they thought you were more important than you actually were. Maybe they thought Bruce had the patience of a saint. Though you have a feeling after your last stunt, they were trying to see if another PR disaster would come from this. Maybe more publicity for them. Any publicity is good publicity you guess.

Either way, it was too late to change it now. Sighing, you pulled out your chair and sat down, reveling in the last few moments of solitude before the night officially began.

And then, the atmosphere shifted. Even before you turned your head, you knew. Gothams golden boy had arrived.

The energy in the room changed, as if the very air had been pulled toward him. Conversations faltered just slightly, eyes flickered in his direction, and there was a quiet ripple of interest that passed through the gathering like an unspoken current. It was always like this.

The city’s most eligible bachelor. The name that sent tabloids into a frenzy and made socialites tilt their heads just so, hoping to catch his attention. He was power wrapped in effortless charm, an untouchable figure who played the role of the careless heir so well that even the most cynical couldn’t help but watch him.

You risked a glance. Of course, he looked perfect. Dressed in a dark, tailored suit that cost more than your entire apartment’s worth of furniture, he moved through the crowd with the kind of casual grace that made it seem like he belonged everywhere. A relaxed smile curved his lips, and the people surrounding him whether they were whispering behind their glasses or outright gushing were captivated.

It was almost infuriating, how easy it was for him. Why can’t beautiful people feel more im reach?

When then he reached his seat and saw you. For the briefest moment, the mask slipped. Not much just a flicker of something sharp in his eyes before it smoothed over, replaced with something unreadable.

He barely acknowledged the lingering hands on his arm, the voices vying for just another second of his time. His attention had already shifted. To you. You on the other hand are practically clutching your pearls to remain calm. Your publicist told you to absolutely DO NOT fuck up again.

Bruce had been willing to chalk that first encounter up to chance. A passing curiosity. Now he was beginning to think fate had a sense of humor.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he murmured as he sank into his chair, his voice carrying the warmth of amusement.

You exhaled through your nose, already bracing yourself. “Yeah, well. maybe i won the lottery to be seated next to Gotham’s golden boy.”

His lips twitched. “I doubt im anything that special”

You gave him a dry look. “Didn’t take you for a masochist, Wayne.”

He chuckled, low and quiet. “Only selectively.”

You sighed, picking up your menu just to give yourself something to do. “I do want to apologize for last time, I swear im more civilized. I guess that I kinda got thrown off a bit?” Bruce leaned in slightly, his voice dipping just enough that only you could hear.

“Acting all fancy? Where’s the fun in that?”

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ If you had to endure one more second of this sanctimonious drivel, you were going to jam your fork into the back of your hand just to feel something.

The dinner had been dragging on for what felt like an eternity, and the conversation at the table was as unbearable as expected. The hosts, a couple who clearly thought themselves Gotham’s greatest benefactors, were speaking at length about their so called “generosity” and the many ways they had given back to the community. It was all so painfully rehearsed.

“We simply couldn’t sit idly by while Gotham suffered,” the woman declared, holding her glass delicately between her fingers. “Which is why we’ve dedicated ourselves to philanthropy.”

Her husband gave a solemn nod. “Yes. Our foundation has put millions into rehabilitating Gotham’s most… unfortunate areas.”

Unfortunate areas. You took a slow sip of your wine, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from blurting something you’d regret. They were talking about the Narrows. Where you had grown up. Where people still fought to survive every single day, no thanks to the people in this very room.

They spoke as if their generosity was some grand solution to the city’s suffering. As if they had single handedly saved Gotham. You exhaled through your nose, already feeling your patience fraying. It was then that you felt someone shift beside you.

“Did you hear that?”

The words were spoken so casually, so smoothly, that at first, you weren’t sure you had heard them at all. You turned your head slightly, finding Bruce Wayne sitting beside you, his face the perfect picture of polite interest. His voice was quiet, just low enough that only you could hear him.

“Hear what?” you muttered, confused.

He took a sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. “The sound of Gotham being saved.”

You blinked. “what?”

Bruce gestured subtly toward the hosts. “Between the Restoration Project and last week’s fundraiser, I think we can safely say Gotham’s problems have been solved.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. Then, before you could stop yourself, you let out a sharp, amused breath. “Oh, absolutely,” you whispered back. “Crime? Poverty? Completely eradicated. I bet even the Joker is rethinking his entire life’s work.”

Bruce tilted his head, considering it. “Maybe he’ll go into finance. Become a hedge fund manager.”

You snorted. “I’d pay to see that.”

Bruce hummed, pretending to ponder it. “Or accounting. Something low risk. Maybe he’d be great at tax fraud.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself not to laugh.

“Honestly?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer. “A few more dinner parties and we might even get Two Face to start a nonprofit.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched. “And I hear Penguin’s investing in an animal conservation project.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, shaking your head. How had this happened?You had been so close to losing your mind just minutes ago, and now here you were, whispering snide remarks with Bruce Wayne of all people. The absurdity of it hit you all at once.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “This is ridiculous.”

Bruce arched a brow. “What is?”

You glanced at him, lips twitching. “Didn’t think you were so much of a hater.”

Bruce leaned slightly closer, his voice amused. “Isnt that your job? you haven’t stopped being one.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smirk. “I think it’s a little more nuanced than that. Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”

He chuckled, his blue eyes sharp with something unreadable. “Funny. Me too.”

Bruce wasn’t sure when it happened. When the night had gone from something exhausting to something… bearable. Enjoyable, even.

He had sat down at this table expecting the usual the same empty conversations, the same mindless flattery, the same performance he had perfected over the years.

You, who had spent the first half of the evening looking like you wanted to crawl out of your skin. You, who had made no attempt to charm him, who had barely acknowledged his presence at all until he had decided to push you just a little. when you had responded, it had been effortless. Natural.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had felt that. Since he had been able to talk to someone like this without posturing, without pretending. It reminded him of something. Something old. Something familiar. A woman in a black catsuit, teasing him from the edge of a rooftop. Bruce’s fingers curled slightly against his knee.

Selina had been one of the first people to remind him what it felt like to be real. To be alive and now, somehow, you were doing the exact same thing and you didn’t even realize it.

Bruce glanced at you from the corner of his eye. You were still trying to suppress a smile, still glancing around the table like you couldn’t believe you were actually enjoying yourself. He found himself studying you really studying you. You didn’t belong here, that much was obvious. The way you sat stiffly in your chair, the way your fingers tapped lightly against your wine glass when you were irritated, the way you watched the room rather than participated in it.

You were observing. Just like him. Just like he had been doing since he was a boy, since he had first learned how to read a room, how to pick apart every detail, every lie. for all your sharp observations, you had completely missed the fact that you had captivated him.

Bruce Wayne was staring at you like you were a puzzle he needed to solve.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your voice cut through the air softly, and Bruce blinked, pulled from his thoughts. You had caught him looking. For a brief moment, he considered deflecting, playing it off with a practiced joke. But he didn’t want to.

So instead, he simply shrugged. “I was just thinking,” he said, voice low, “that this might be the first time I’ve actually enjoyed one of these things.”

You frowned, clearly skeptical. “Bullshit. You go to these all the time.”

Bruce smirked. “Doesn’t mean I like them.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still not quite believing him. “And I’m supposed to believe this dinner is different?”

His smirk deepened. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

You blinked, and Bruce almost laughed at the way you processed his words, as if you weren’t quite sure what to do with them. But then, slowly, you shook your head, exhaling a quiet laugh.

“You’re so full of shit, Wayne.”

Bruce grinned. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

For the first time that night, he didn’t feel like the billionaire playboy. Didn’t feel like Batman. He just felt like Bruce. Which wouldn’t that feel weird? He always believed that Batman was the real him. Right now feeling like a teenage boy meeting a girl.

&&&&

The second the speeches ended, you were on your feet. Not rudely just quickly. The second round of self congratulation had begun, and if you had to listen to one more person pat themselves on the back for “saving” Gotham, you were going to lose your mind.

You made your way toward one of the grand patios, slipping past gilded columns and chandeliers that cost more than your entire apartment complex. The doors were open, the cool night air seeping in just enough to make you crave the quiet outside. The moment you stepped onto the patio, you exhaled.

It was massive of course it was. Probably bigger than some of the city blocks you had grown up on. A perfect marble terrace with pristine railings, overlooking the twinkling skyline of Gotham. You leaned against the stone railing, closing your eyes for a moment. Peace. Finally. But, of course, peace never lasted long in Gotham.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t like high society events, you sure end up at a lot of them.”

You opened your eyes, lips already twitching into a smirk before you even turned around. Bruce Wayne stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking at you with that same insufferably amused expression. A short, incredulous laugh escaped you. “stalking me now rich boy?”

Bruce stepped further onto the patio, shaking his head. “Just wanted the air, cant blame me”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the skyline. “Mhm. Right. Sure. Just a coincidence you keep popping up wherever I am.”

Bruce leaned against the railing beside you, his voice casual. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be sure to keep a three foot distance from now on.”

You smirked. “Six, just to be safe.”

“Ten, and I might start getting offended.”

You shook your head, biting back a grin. There was something so easy about talking to him. Too easy. The thought was unsettling. “I have to admit,” Bruce mused, tilting his head slightly. “I didn’t expect you to show up tonight.”

You sighed, toying with the rim of your glass. “Believe me, if I could have avoided it, I would have.”

“you can say that again”

You exhaled through your nose, staring out over the city. “Yeah, well. If I want my stories to actually matter, I have to be seen.”

Bruce was silent for a moment, watching you. Then, his voice softened. “Is that why you do it?”

You turned to him, brow furrowing. “Do what?”

“Write the stories you do.” His blue eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering behind them. “Why villains? Why not the heroes? You’d probably get a lot more recognition if you did.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Because the heroes don’t need me.”

Bruce’s gaze didn’t waver. “And the villains do?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around your glass. “The people who get thrown into Arkham, who are labeled as ‘monsters’ and ‘freaks’ and just written off most of them have stories no one ever hears.” You exhaled. “I want people to understand them. Or at least see them. Even if they don’t deserve sympathy, they at least deserve to be known.”

Bruce didn’t say anything right away. He just stared at you. Not in an uncomfortable way, not in the way men at these events usually did. No, Bruce was really looking at you. And for some reason, it made you shift under his gaze.

“…What?” you muttered.

Bruce just smiled slightly, shaking his head. “Nothing. I just didn’t expect that answer.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well. Sorry to disappoint. I know the usual arm candy around here doesn’t have thoughts.”

Bruce snorted. “You really think that’s all I see you as?”

You arched a brow. “What else would I be?”

His expression turned thoughtful. “I dont really know”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re looking for something interesting, you should probably set your sights somewhere else. I have no interest in being one of the people you “help” from the sidelines”

Bruce’s lips quirked. “help from the sidelines?”

You gestured vaguely. “I want to respect the people in there. the ones who have influence. Though when you’re on the other side of the spectrum its a little rough. The rich like to be seen and not heard.” You turned to him, meeting his gaze directly. “I have no intention of being a footnote in the pretend of gotham.”

Bruce watched you for a long moment, his smirk slowly fading into something softer. Then, finally, he spoke. “I have no intention of making you just a fling or to discard your work.”

The words were said so smoothly, so matter of factly, that they took a second to register. You blinked. Your mind blanked. Your entire brain shut down for a solid five seconds. Because what…what did he mean by that? You weren’t sure what part of the sentence flustered you more.

The fact that he wasn’t denying wanting you, or the fact that he had just so casually implied that you are going to be something more than a just a thought. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Bruce just smirked, watching you flounder. Then, slowly, he leaned in just a fraction.

“Speechless?” he murmured, voice low.

You snapped out of it, your pride kicking back in. “Please.” You scoffed, turning away. “You wish.”

Bruce chuckled, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

And as much as you hated to admit it… You kind of loved that he had caught you off guard.

The soft breeze ruffled your hair as you leaned back against the stone railing, trying to gather your thoughts. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had left you this disoriented. Bruce’s smirk only deepened as he studied your reaction, clearly enjoying the fact that he had thrown you off balance. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of cool air could wipe the warmth from your face.

“So…” he began, his voice far too smooth for your liking. “I take it that wasn’t exactly the response you were expecting?”

You forced yourself to look at him, swallowing back the knot in your throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” His gaze darkened just a little, and for a moment, there was no teasing, just something more genuine. “I think you do.”

The way he said it made your stomach flutter uncomfortably. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to laugh or slap him so you did neither. Instead, you stepped back from the railing, trying to put some distance between you and the overwhelming presence that was Bruce Wayne.

“fucking rich people,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as if to shield yourself from him.

Bruce didn’t move, his eyes still locked on yours, his lips slightly curled. “Is that a no?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “A no?” you echoed, unsure if you had heard him right.

Bruce gave you that damnable, knowing look again. “You know, you don’t have to act all tough. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I’m not acting tough,” you shot back, despite your nerves. “I just I don’t even know what you’re asking me.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly. “I’m asking you if you’d like to go out with me.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait. What?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Yes. That.”

You stared at him, utterly baffled, before glancing at the ground as if it might have the answers to everything you had just heard. You couldn’t tell if you were about to burst out laughing, slap him, or just walk away and pretend none of this happened.

“…You’re serious?” you managed to croak out after what felt like an eternity.

Bruce simply gave you a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Dead serious.”

For a long, torturous moment, all you could do was blink at him, trying to make sense of the situation. Bruce Wayne Gotham’s richest, most infamous playboy was asking you, the rebellious daughter of the shadows, on a date and you couldn’t even think of a single coherent response.

Finally, you let out a frustrated breath and turned your head away. “You’re insane.”

Bruce’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile. “I try.”

You shook your head, not knowing whether to feel mortified or weirdly elated. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, you could say yes,” Bruce offered casually, his voice now a little more sincere.

You looked back at him, your heart still racing from the unexpected turn of events. “…I’m going to need a lot more time to process this.”

Bruce raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll give you time. But just so you know… I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension between you two was still there, thick in the air. But for some reason, it didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore. More like the beginning of something unexpected. Something that might change everything. And just like that, you were thrown back into the whirlwind that was Bruce Wayne.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ It was a quiet night as you walked home, the cool breeze against your face, your mind lost in thought. It had been a long day at work reporting, editing, and finalizing a piece about Gotham’s growing underbelly, a story that seemed to sink deeper with every layer you uncovered. You were used to it. You thrived on it. The truth was your domain, and you’d learned how to swim in the darkness long ago. It was something that made you feel connected to your roots, to the people you came from.

The streets of Gotham felt familiar, in a way. No matter how much money flowed into this city or how many pretty buildings sprang up in the skyline, you couldn’t forget the parts of it you grew up in. The darker corners, the alleys, the people who had nothing but each other to survive. They were your people, the ones you understood more than you ever could the high society types you’d been forced to mingle with.

You rounded the corner onto a familiar street, just a few more blocks before you were home. Then, without warning, the atmosphere shifted. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you slowed your pace. Gotham had a way of making you hyper aware, and tonight was no exception.

You felt it before you saw them. The footfalls behind you, too quiet, too steady. Your pulse quickened.

Before you could even react, two men emerged from the shadows, blocking your path. The dark shapes loomed over you, the threat in their eyes clear. One was holding a sharp looking knife, the other a crowbar. The older, taller man grinned, a twisted, unsettling look that made your stomach churn.

“Give us your bag, sweetheart,” he sneered, a rough, gravelly voice edging the threat. “We don’t want any trouble, but we will make it happen if you don’t cooperate.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t back down.

“Sorry, I don’t have time for this,” you muttered, trying to side step the bigger man, but he was quick, grabbing your arm with a vice like grip.

“Not so fast,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere until we get what we want.”

You spun around quickly, your elbow connecting with his ribs in a sharp strike. He grunted, but it didn’t stop him from tightening his grip. The other man stepped forward, the crowbar raised as if to swing.

That was when you knew you were in trouble. But only for a second. You kicked back, slamming your foot into the first man’s knee, hearing the sickening crack as he stumbled backward. He swore, holding his leg in pain. You used the opening to break free, turning to face both men. The one with the crowbar swung at you wildly, but you ducked under his reach and used his momentum against him, redirecting his strike into the side of the nearby wall. Your movements were quick, practiced clean, precise. You didn’t need to fight dirty. You didn’t need to be anything other than efficient. All you needed was enough of an excuse to escape. Within seconds, the two men were on the ground, groaning in pain, incapacitated by your calculated strikes.

Breathing hard, you exhaled slowly, dusting yourself off. That was easy. But when you looked up to check for any more threats, the air around you grew heavy.

Batman was standing at the edge of the alley, his towering form almost blending with the shadows. His cape fluttered slightly in the wind, the symbol of the bat glaring on his chest, and those piercing eyes those damn eyes locked onto yours.

You froze. For a moment, it felt like time slowed down. It was him. Batman. The dark vigilante, the city’s protector, who had always hovered over Gotham’s criminal world like a myth, now staring at you with an unreadable expression.

His eyes narrowed. Recognition flashed across his face, though his expression remained carefully controlled.

You stared at him, blinking rapidly, confusion clouding your mind. You knew him. But how? But you hadn’t had you really? You were too caught up in your own world to truly pay attention to the rumors and gossip. He was, after all, just the Batman to you. That was all you cared about. But in that moment, you realized with an unsettling clarity: He knew who you were.

You laughed awkwardly, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Oh great, just what I needed tonight,” you muttered under your breath. You quickly brushed a hand through your hair, trying to act like this wasn’t the most bizarre encounter you’d had in a while. “Listen, don’t worry about me. I appreciate what you do for the community though.”

Batman didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His posture remained rigid, intimidating, but his eyes… his eyes seemed to soften for a split second. There was something in them something that spoke volumes. You couldn’t place it, but it felt like something more than just the bat.

“No,” he said, his voice low, gravelly. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His words were firm, but there was a thread of concern beneath it. “Gotham isn’t safe.”

“Yeah, well, Gotham doesn’t care about safe,” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s just me out here. If I want to get home, I’ll get home.” You didn’t want to admit it, but there was something about the way he said that it made you feel smaller. But you didn’t let it show. You lifted your chin, defiant. “I can take care of myself. Just like I did with them.”

You gestured to the two men still groaning on the ground, the earlier tension dissipating into the night air. But Batman didn’t reply. His eyes swept over you in a way that sent a chill down your spine. His body language shifted just slightly, enough for you to notice, but before you could say anything more, he was moving.

“Get inside,” he said abruptly, his voice unwavering. “I’m not letting you walk home like this.”

There it was again. The command in his voice. You narrowed your eyes, a little defiant but feeling a strange pull toward the urgency in his tone. “It’s very courteous of you but please. I told you, I’ve got it. I’m fine.”

Batman didn’t even blink, his tone now sharpened. “Get inside, now.”

His words left no room for argument. You were tempted to push back tempted to keep up your independence. But there was something about the way he said it, the way his gaze hardened, that made you swallow your pride. With a small, frustrated sigh, you turned and started walking towards the street, heading home. You could feel his presence lingering behind you, watching, making sure you weren’t followed.

For a split second, you almost wanted to ask him more. But you stopped yourself. You didn’t need him. Not really. He was just Batman, after all. You shook your head. No need to think about it. Sometimes you want to find and interview him for why he punches first and asks later. Though the bias for your work might be interfering with those thoughts.

But somehow, you couldn’t ignore the tight knot in your chest. The tension in the air between you and him felt like more than just a confrontation. It felt like something else. And that something else… well, it lingered.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Bruce Wayne stood in the Batcave, his back pressed against the cool stone wall, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of the Batcomputer. His cape hung loosely behind him, still damp from the rain soaked night. The adrenaline of his patrol had long since faded, but an odd unease lingered in the pit of his stomach, something he couldn’t quite shake.

He’d spent countless hours in this cave, fighting Gotham’s worst and dealing with the city’s many challenges. His mission had always been clear: protect the innocent, bring justice, and make Gotham a better place. But tonight, something was different. Something about the encounter with you had stayed with him in a way he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you had handled yourself, standing tall despite the danger.

He had seen countless people fight back, but there was something unique about the way you did it. You weren’t just trying to survive you were alive in the moment, every move deliberate, confident, and unapologetic. You weren’t waiting for someone to come save you; you were saving yourself. It was rare in Gotham, a city where people often needed help just to make it through the day.

And yet, there was a sadness to it all.

Bruce knew that the city had a way of wearing people down, turning them into something else something bitter or broken. People like you, who had grown up in the shadows, had learned to fend for themselves because Gotham didn’t make it easy. He couldn’t help but wish that you hadn’t had to be so strong. You shouldn’t have had to fight alone.

His thoughts wandered back to the moment he’d seen you in the slums. Despite your strength, despite the control you’d taken of the situation, Bruce felt a pang of sympathy. The city had failed you, just as it had failed so many others. Gotham had a way of demanding too much from its people, and it had never been kind to those who were already struggling.

It was clear you weren’t someone who needed saving. You had made your own way, fought for your own space in a world that hadn’t always welcomed you. Bruce couldn’t help but admire that. It was something he understood well carving out a place for yourself in a city that tried to break you. But it still frustrated him that Gotham had forced you into a corner like that.

He pushed away from the computer, rubbing his eyes as he tried to clear his thoughts. He had a duty to the city, a duty that didn’t leave room for distractions or feelings. Yet, something about the way you carried yourself, how you didn’t let Gotham’s grime get the best of you, lingered in his mind. You were a reminder of the resilience he’d always admired in this city, but also a stark reminder of how much still needed to be done.

Bruce had always seen Gotham as a city to fix, a place in desperate need of change. He’d dedicated himself to that cause, but seeing you, standing strong in the face of everything this city threw at you, made him think what if there were more people like you?

But you shouldn’t have to be like that. You shouldn’t have to fight for your survival in a city that was supposed to be your home. And yet, you had.

Bruce exhaled deeply, leaning back against the stone wall again. It was moments like these that reminded him of how complex Gotham truly was. People like you weren’t just victims or criminals. They were the heart of the city, the ones who kept going even when the world seemed determined to make them quit.

He didn’t have the answers, but seeing you hold your own, standing up to those men like it was just another day, reminded him why he kept doing this. Gotham wasn’t just about fighting crime it was about protecting the people who refused to be broken. People like you.

Bruce let out a slow breath, turning back toward the Batcomputer, but his thoughts were still on you. He wasn’t sure where this would lead, or if it would lead anywhere at all. But for the first time in a long while, he found himself hoping that, somehow, Gotham would be a little less lonely for you.

For all of them.

Alfred: So, how did the gala go, Master Wayne?

Bruce: I think it went well. There was a very pretty woman. She didn’t say no when I asked her out

Alfred: Fascinating. Like watching a car crash in slow motion and calling it a graceful landing.

Bruce: …I’m sensing sarcasm.

Alfred: No, no. I’m very impressed. You managed to express interest without brooding in a corner or vanishing mid conversation. Progress.

Bruce: I hate it when you bully me.

Alfred: And yet, I persist.

⋆˚✿˖° ❝it feels crowded❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Geto Suguru x Reader

────୨ৎ────

4. How it feels to be a girl and do no wrong

masterlist

update! i’m back from vacation but i offer you this with what little time I have.

…

Your dorm was warm and cozy, lit softly by the glow of a few fairy lights strung along the walls. The scent of popcorn and sugary snacks filled the air, and laughter spilled freely between you, Shoko, and Utahime as the three of you lounged around the room.

It had been a few days since your night out at the arcade and ramen shop, but the memory still lingered in your mind specifically, the way Geto had acted, the way Gojo had been off. And based on the way Shoko kept smirking at you, you had a strong suspicion she knew exactly what you’d been overthinking.

“Alright, but hear me out,” Utahime said, sitting cross legged on the floor as she carefully painted your nails. “What if, just once, in a horror movie, the characters actually had some common sense?”

You snorted, blowing on the nails she had already finished. “Then the movie would be ten minutes long.”

“Exactly,” Shoko chimed in, sprawled lazily across your bed, a cigarette tucked between her fingers. “The second a single door creaks on its own? I’m out. No investigation. No ‘who’s there?’ Just immediate evacuation.”

Utahime grinned. “See, that’s why we’d all survive.”

You hummed. “Not if one of us trips.”

Shoko flicked her lighter absently. “You’d trip.”

You gasped, “I’m super adept.”

Utahime giggled. “You did trip at the arcade that one day.”

“That was once!” you protested, then immediately regretted it when Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look.

“Oh yeah,” Shoko drawled, her smirk widening. “Speaking of the arcade…”

Utahime sighed, putting the nail polish down and leaning back on her hands. “We’ve been nice and patient, but now you have to tell us.” You blinked. “Tell you what?”

Utahime gave you a deadpan look. “Don’t play dumb.” Shoko grinned, propping herself up on her elbows. “How’s it feel to have both Gojo and Geto all over you?”

Your face immediately heated up. “They were not—” “Please,” Shoko cut you off. “Geto was practically glued to your side, and Gojo looked like he wanted to launch him into orbit.”

Utahime hummed. “He was acting weird, wasn’t he?” You frowned, thinking back to Gojo’s quiet mood after dinner, the way he had trailed a step behind when you and Geto had walked back together.

“He’s been weird ever since,” Shoko mused, tapping ash into an empty cup. “More annoying than usual.”

“He’s probably just being dramatic,” you muttered, trying to ignore the way something in your stomach twisted.

Utahime gave you a patient look. “And Geto?”

You hesitated. Geto had been different too. More intentional with his words, with his actions. The memory of him draping his jacket over your shoulders flashed in your mind, unbidden.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s just… Geto’s always smooth. But lately, it’s like he’s actually trying.” Utahime nodded thoughtfully, while Shoko smirked. “And you like it.” “I didn’t say that!”

Utahime raised an eyebrow. “But you don’t hate it.” You groaned, flopping backward onto the bed, covering your face with a pillow. “Why are we even talking about this?”

Shoko chuckled, tossing a piece of popcorn at you. “Because it’s fun watching you squirm.” You lifted the pillow just enough to glare at her. “I hate you.” She grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Utahime leaned back, stretching her arms over her head. “Well, either way, something’s happening.”

You let out a long sigh. “Nothing is happening.” “Yet,” Shoko corrected, looking far too pleased with herself.

You groaned again, dragging the pillow back over your face. This sleepover was supposed to be relaxing. Instead, you were going to lose your mind. Utahime stretched, letting out a content sigh as she leaned back against the bed. “Well, whatever’s going on, you’re gonna have to deal with it eventually.”

You groaned, still partially buried under your pillow. “Or I could just ignore it forever.”

Shoko snorted. “Yeah, because that always works.” Utahime shook her head, about to say something else when she suddenly froze. Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting slightly as she peered toward the chair in the corner of your room.

“Wait a second.”

You sat up a little, frowning. “What?”

Utahime’s gaze flicked back to you, her expression sharpening with curiosity. “That jacket.” Your stomach immediately dropped. You followed her line of sight straight to the familiar black jacket draped over the back of your chair. Geto’s jacket. The same one he had casually thrown over your shoulders a few nights ago. The one you had fully intended to return but had somehow… forgotten about.

Utahime slowly turned back to you, her smirk growing with every passing second. “Is that Geto’s?” Shoko, who had previously been lounging, suddenly perked up. She squinted at the jacket, then at your increasingly guilty expression. Then, in perfect sync with Utahime, she let out a dramatic gasp.

“Oh my god.”

“No,” you said immediately, face heating up. “It’s not—”

“It so is,” Utahime cut in, sitting up straighter. “Why is it still here?”

“I—” You floundered for an explanation, your brain working overtime. “I just… forgot to give it back.”

Shoko smirked while laughing. “You forgot?”

“Yes!”

Utahime grinned, standing up to grab the jacket off the chair. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it like it held the secrets of the universe. “I bet it even smells like him.”

“Utahime!” you yelped, reaching to snatch it from her. She easily dodged, waving it out of reach. “Oh, this is rich.”

Shoko propped her chin in her hand, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “So. You’ve just been keeping it? Sleeping next to it? Maybe wearing it when you miss him?” You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I hate both of you.”

“Please,” Utahime said, shaking the jacket for emphasis. “This is gold.”

Shoko hummed thoughtfully. “You should return it, y’know. Maybe personally.”

You squinted at her. “You just want to watch me suffer.”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed, smirking.

Utahime threw the jacket over your head with a dramatic flourish. “Well, either way, you should probably return it before people start asking questions.” You peeked out from under the fabric, pouting. “You two are the worst.” Shoko shrugged. “And yet, with all this going on I might have to steal you for myself.”

Utahime grinned, flopping back onto the bed. “Now, be honest how many times have you worn it?”

You launched a pillow at her face. Unfortunately, that only made them laugh harder.

—

“This is nice,” Utahime murmured, admiring her work. “Quiet. Relaxing. No responsibilities.”

Shoko let out a content sigh, stretching her legs over the arm of the couch. “No early missions, no annoying teachers, no one yelling. Just peace.”

You hummed in agreement, flipping lazily through a magazine, barely paying attention to the pages. “We should do this more often.”

Utahime nodded. “Definitely. We always talk about it, but we never actually set time aside.”

“That’s because every time we plan, something interrupts it.” Shoko cracked one eye open, smirking. “Remember the last time? We barely made it through a movie before—”

“No,” you cut in quickly. “We are not bringing up last time.”

“That’s fair.” Shoko yawned, stretching her arms over her head before slumping back down. “So, what’s the plan? Are we just hanging out, or are we doing something fun?”

You glanced around at the mess of snacks and nail polish. “I thought this was the fun part.”

Shoko waved a dismissive hand. “No, no. I mean, like, real fun. Something chaotic. Utahime, you’re too responsible when’s the last time you did something reckless?”

Utahime narrowed her eyes. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of” She paused, then sighed. “You know what? It’s been a while.” Shoko grinned. “See? I knew it. Let’s do something.”

Utahime raised a brow. “Like what?”

Shoko turned to you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You got any ideas?” You glanced between them, already sensing that something was about to spiral out of control. “…I might have one.”

“i don’t like that look you’re giving” utahime lets out quietly

Shoko smirked, sitting up properly now, clearly entertained. “No, no, let’s hear them out. If they’ve got that look, it means this is gonna be good.” You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Well, we could sneak into Gojo’s room and mess with his stuff.”

Utahime sighed, already rubbing her temples. “Why is your first instinct always to start problems?”

“Because it’s fun?” Shoko answered for you, already getting excited. “What are you thinking? Classic prank? Rearranging his furniture? Stealing something important?”

“Oh, stealing is good,” you mused. “Imagine if we took his sunglasses. He’d lose his mind.”

“He would,” Shoko agreed. “What about his hair gel? You know he goes through, like, a bottle a week.”

Utahime groaned. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

“Oh, come on,” you nudged her. “It’s harmless. He deserves it after all the times he’s annoyed you.”

Utahime hesitated, glancing away. “…He has been worse than usual lately.”

Shoko grinned, sensing the shift. “See? Exactly. Think of it as justice.”

Utahime huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming both of you.”

Shoko threw an arm around her shoulders. “That’s the spirit!”

The plan was simple: sneak in, steal something mildly important, and leave before Gojo even noticed. But in true you, Shoko, and Utahime fashion things did not go as planned

The plan was simple: sneak into Gojo’s room, take something mildly important, and leave before he even noticed. Given how messy he usually was, you figured it’d be easy just rummage through the and swipe something small. But the second you pushed open the door, all three of you froze.

“…What the hell?” Utahime muttered.

Shoko blinked. “Did we walk into the wrong room?”

Gojo’s dorm was… immaculate. No scattered clothes. No empty snack wrappers. His bed was made, his desk was organized, and even his infinity scarves were neatly folded on a shelf. The air smelled faintly of fabric softener, like he had just done laundry. You turned to your friends, wide eyed. “Did he hire someone to clean?”

Utahime shook her head, suspicious. “This has to be a trap.”

Shoko whistled, walking inside. “Or he finally got sick of living like a raccoon.” Stepping further in, you carefully looked around. It was unsettling this was not the Gojo you knew. No mess , no clutter, no sense of a human disaster living here.

“…I feel like we should leave something messy just to restore balance,” you murmured.

Utahime crossed her arms. “Focus. We need to find something valuable before he comes back.”

Shoko flopped onto his bed dramatically. “What even counts as valuable to Gojo?” As if on cue, Utahime spotted something small and very out of place on his desk a tiny, pink, bunny shaped scrunchie.

She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. “What is this?”

Shoko sat up. “Since when does Gojo own a scrunchie?”

“I don’t know, but it does not fit his whole thing,” Utahime said, looking scandalized. You smirked. “Which means it’s sentimental. Perfect.”

Shoko grinned. “Stealing it is the only logical course of action.”

Before you could celebrate your victory, disaster struck. Footsteps. Approaching. From right outside the door.

“Shit” you hissed.

“Hide!” Utahime whisper yelled.

All three of you scrambled like cockroaches when a light turns on. Shoko dived under the bed, Utahime pressed herself inside the closet, and you flattened against the wall near the door. The knob turned. Gojo stepped in, stretching. He yawned, rubbing his eyes as he scanned the room.

“…Weird,” he muttered. He took a slow step inside, glancing around. Your breath caught. His gaze narrowed slightly. “mmm something is off?” You stayed completely still. Shoko, from under the bed, barely stifled a laugh. Gojo exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Maybe I’m just paranoid.” He turned, reaching for his blindfold on the desk, then froze.

His fingers hovered over the empty spot where the pink scrunchie had been. Slowly, his head turned. “…Where is it?” Your stomach dropped. Gojo knew.

His entire posture shifted casual suspicion replaced by immediate certainty. His eyes flickered as he scanned the room, brows furrowing. Utahime was dead silent in the closet. Shoko wasn’t even breathing under the bed. Gojo’s gaze lingered on the doorway. Then, he smirked.

“I knew I felt something off.” Crap. Time to run. The second without thinking, you bolted. Gojo moved fast too fast but you had a head start, and you weren’t about to go down without a fight. You dodged past him, sprinting out the door and down the hallway, gripping the stolen scrunchie in your fist like it was some kind of prized treasure.

“Hey!” Gojo’s voice rang out, way too delighted for someone who had just been robbed. “Get back here, thief!”

You didn’t look back. Behind you, you could hear Utahime and Shoko dying of laughter, but they had chosen self preservation over loyalty, leaving you to fend for yourself. You turned a sharp corner, barely avoiding crashing into a stack of textbooks outside Yaga’s office, and kept running, your breath coming in short gasps.

But Gojo wasn’t even trying. That was the worst part he wasn’t sprinting after you, wasn’t calling on his infinity to stop you in your tracks. He was just strolling down the hall like he had all the time in the world, like he was playing some slow, inevitable game of cat and mouse.

“You know I can catch you whenever I want, right?” You didn’t dignify that with an answer. Your plan? Unclear. Your only goal? Survive. But the second you made it to the stairwell, you felt it, A shift in the air. An invisible force coiling around you like a net.

Oh, shit.

Before you could take another step, your body stopped moving. You weren’t frozen, exactly just stuck, like something was gently pressing you in place. Gojo’s infinity. A heartbeat later, he was behind you, leaning down to speak right next to your ear.

“You really thought you could get away?”

His voice was smug. Too smug. You turned your head slightly, glaring. “That’s unfair.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he shot back easily. Then, after a pause, “Wait, which one is this?”

You groaned. “Just take your stupid scrunchie back.” But instead of snatching it away, he just rested his chin on your shoulder, peering at the pink fabric in your hand. “You really wanted this that badly?”

You felt your face heat. “It was part of a game!”

“Oh? And what exactly was the game?”

You refused to answer. Gojo chuckled, finally releasing his technique so you could move again. But before you could shove the scrunchie back at him, he reached up, plucking it from your fingers with a satisfied hum.

Then, to your shock, he casually stretched it over his wrist.

You stared. “You’re actually wearing it?”

“Why not?” He grinned, holding up his hand like he was showing off some expensive bracelet. “Looks cute, right?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then groaned. “You are so annoying.”

He just beamed, rocking back on his heels. “Admit it you’re impressed I caught you.”

You scowled. “I let you catch me.”

Gojo barked out a laugh. “Oh, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You turned on your heel, storming off, because if you stayed any longer, he’d probably say something even more ridiculous

.

But just as you reached the door, you heard his voice again, softer this time.

“See you later, thief.”

And then he walked away, leaving you standing there, flustered, as the warmth in your chest refused to go away.

—-

The memory was old, so old that Gojo sometimes wondered if it was real or just something his brain made up over time. But no, he knew it had happened. He could still hear the sound of your voice, tiny and full of determination, and he could still remember how warm the summer air had felt against his skin that day.

It was before Geto, before Shoko before either of you had anyone else. Just two kids, running around the vast Satoru estate, where everything was too big and too quiet and too lonely.

Gojo had been sulking. He didn’t even remember why. Maybe one of the servants had scolded him for sneaking sweets before dinner. Maybe his father had said something about being stronger or better or more than what he already was. Or maybe he was just having one of those days where being Gojo Satoru felt way too heavy for a little kid to carry.

Whatever the reason, he had plopped down onto the wooden engawa outside his house, legs dangling over the edge, arms crossed over his chest. His sunglasses too big for his face back then had slid slightly down his nose, but he was too grumpy to push them back up. like always, you appeared.

Marching straight up to him with something clutched tightly in your tiny fist, you stopped in front of him and huffed. “Satoru.”

Gojo barely glanced at you. “What?”

“Hold out your hand.”

He squinted at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“Just do it!”

He let out the world’s most dramatic sigh, but finally, he held out his palm. Immediately, you shoved something soft and fabric-y into it. Gojo blinked, looking down. A scrunchie. Pink. With little bunny ears on it.

He stared. Then stared harder. “…What?”

You crossed your arms, standing tall well, as tall as a little kid could stand. “It’s for you.”

Gojo wrinkled his nose. “A scrunchie?”

“Yeah.” Without waiting for an invitation, you flopped down next to him, swinging your legs over the edge of the engawa. “My mom said I have too many, so I decided to give this one away.”

Gojo frowned. “Why to me?”

You gave him a look, like the answer was so obvious. “Because you always complain about your hair.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. “…No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

Then, to Gojo’s absolute horror, you scrunched up your face and mimicked him in a high pitched, exaggerated voice:

“Ugh, my hair’s in my face! Ugh, it’s so annoying!”

Gojo gasped. “I DO NOT sound like that.” “You totally do.”

He scowled, clutching the scrunchie like it had personally offended him. “Well still! It’s pink!” You shrugged. “So?” “And it’s got bunny ears!” “So?” Gojo was flabbergasted. “It’s it’s cute!”

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “Satoru. You have white hair and wear sunglasses indoors. I don’t think a pink scrunchie is your biggest problem.”

Gojo gawked at you. “huh!”

You just grinned, all mischief and sunshine. “Besides, it’s practical.” You swung your feet again, bumping his knee. “You always get annoyed when your hair’s in your eyes, right? Just use it when no one’s looking.”

Gojo glanced down at the scrunchie again.

It was practical… and soft… and warm from your hands… and something about the fact that you gave it to him made his face feel kinda hot. He grumbled under his breath, stuffing it deep into his pocket like he was hiding evidence. “…Fine. But if anyone asks, I stole it from you.”

You laughed, bright and clear. “Sure, Satoru. Whatever makes you feel better.”

—

Gojo sat on his bed, rolling the same pink scrunchie between his fingers. The bunny ears were slightly bent, the fabric worn from time, but it was still intact.just like the memory.

He sighed, rubbing a thumb over the soft fabric. You didn’t even remember giving this to him.

Figures. He closed his fist around it, holding it close. It was his, after all.

Gojo sat cross legged in the middle of the wide, empty field behind the estate. The sun was beginning to dip, stretching his shadow out long and thin on the grass. Summer air clung to him, sticky and warm, and the cicadas’ endless chorus buzzed in his ears. He stared at the ground, fingers absently picking at the grass, his mind heavy with everything and nothing at once.

His dad’s voice still echoed in his ears, sharp, cutting, never satisfied. The words blurred together in his head, a tangled mess of expectations he didn’t ask for.

Footsteps crunched softly behind him, but he didn’t bother to look up. No one else came out here except for you.

“Hey,” you greeted, voice cautious but casual. “Why’d you run off like that?”

Gojo grunted, still plucking at the grass. “Dunno.”

You plopped down beside him without hesitation, legs folded neatly under you. There was a beat of silence as you looked at him, waiting for him to say more, but when he didn’t, you spoke up again.

“You ran off right after your dad yelled at you,” you pointed out, like it was obvious.

Gojo’s fingers stilled. He ripped a piece of grass and tossed it away. “So what?”

“So, it clearly bothered you.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

You huffed, exasperated but amused. “Liar. I know when something’s bothering you.”

Gojo finally looked at you, a half hearted glare behind those too big sunglasses. “You think you know everything.”

You grinned, unphased. “Yeah, ‘cause I do. I’m a gojo expert.”

Gojo’s lips twitched almost a smile. Almost. The two of you sat there, listening to the cicadas fill the silence. Gojo went back to tearing up the grass, and you leaned back on your hands, tilting your head to the sky.

“Y’know,” you began casually, “I don’t get why you always pretend you’re fine when you’re not.” Gojo’s jaw tightened. The sunglasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back up, a barrier between you and the storm brewing in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” you countered softly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “You’re my friend.”

Friend. That word made his chest feel weird too tight and too light all at once. It was easier to be Gojo Satoru, The Strongest, than to be just Gojo Satoru, a kid whose family thought “the strongest” was all he ever had to be.

“I’m not supposed to need friends,” he muttered. “I’m supposed to be the strongest.”

You looked at him, tilting your head a little. “Yeah, but being the strongest doesn’t mean you have to be alone, dummy.”

Gojo’s fingers stopped picking at the grass. The weight of his father’s expectations pressed down on his shoulders be stronger, be better, be more but your voice cut through the noise, steady and certain.

“Besides,” you added, nudging his shoulder with your own, “I think even the strongest person needs someone. Maybe even especially the strongest person.”

Gojo’s throat felt tight. He wanted to argue, to tell you that you didn’t get it, that no one did but then he looked at you, and you were just sitting there, legs swinging a little, your gaze soft but stubborn. You didn’t pity him; you were just there, like always.

Your hand reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently. Gojo glanced down, staring at the way your fingers curled around his skin. It was grounding a touch that reminded him he was still here, still a person, not just some untouchable concept of strength.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, voice light but sincere. “Even if you keep acting like a grumpy old man.”

A laugh snorted out of him before he could stop it. “I don’t act like a grumpy old man.”

“Yes, you do,” you teased, a playful smirk curling your lips. “You sulk and mutter under your breath like you’re eighty.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just annoying,” he shot back, but there was no bite in his voice.

You laughed, bright and clear, the sound blending with the cicadas. The sun had dipped a little lower now, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The world felt quieter, softer, and Gojo’s heart didn’t feel as heavy as before. The two of you sat there until the sun sank below the horizon and the air began to cool. When it was finally time to head back, you stood up first, offering your hand to help him up. Gojo looked at your outstretched hand, then at your face determined and patient.

He took it, your grip warm and steady.

“Come on, old man,” you teased, pulling him to his feet. “Dinner’s gonna get cold, and you know the staff’ll lecture you again.”

Gojo rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked into a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

But as the two of you walked back, your arms swinging between you,

——

The sun was setting over Jujutsu High, bleeding orange and gold across the sky. The air was warm and heavy, the end of another long day hanging lazily over the campus. Shoko leaned against the window frame of the common room, a cigarette balanced between her fingers, the smoke curling lazily upward.

Geto sat on the windowsill, his back against the frame and one leg drawn up while the other hung outside. His gaze was fixed on the training grounds below, where you and Gojo were supposed to be training though it looked more like Gojo was just finding new ways to annoy you.

“Do they ever actually take this seriously?” Shoko mused, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

Geto huffed out a quiet laugh, but there was a heaviness to it. “If they did, they wouldn’t be themselves.”

Down below, Gojo had his infinity up, that smirk plastered on his face. Every time you tried to hit him, he’d lean back just enough for your fist to miss. His sunglasses had slid down his nose, but he didn’t bother fixing them.

“C’mon, try harder!” he teased, voice bright and taunting. “I thought you said you were getting stronger!”

“Oh, I am,” you shot back, grinning even as your frustration grew. “You just need to stop being a coward and drop your technique!”

“Ha! As if!” Gojo laughed, effortlessly sidestepping your next swing. “You’d have to make me!”

Without warning, you lunged forward and grabbed the front of his uniform. His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise breaking through his cockiness just before you yanked him down. The two of you tumbled to the ground, a heap of limbs and laughter, dust clouding around you.

Gojo’s dramatic yelp echoed through the courtyard, followed by your triumphant, breathless laughter.

Shoko snorted softly, shaking her head. “Idiots.”

Geto watched the two of you tangled up on the ground, his smile faint but strained. There was a bittersweet weight to it, a quiet sort of resignation.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes still on Gojo’s bright, careless grin. “They are.”

Shoko took another drag of her cigarette, her eyes glancing sideways at Geto. The way he watched the two of you there was something there, a thread of something unspoken and conflicted.

“They’ve always been like that,” she said, testing the waters. “Even before we got mixed in.”

Geto’s gaze lingered on the two of you, Gojo’s arm now slung over your shoulders while you tried to shove him off, your mock protests drowned out by his laughter. There was a time when that laughter had been his, something that had belonged to just the two of them. Before everything had gotten so complicated. Before he began to see the cracks in the world that Gojo seemed so effortlessly above.

“Yeah,” Geto replied softly, voice tight. “They have.”

Shoko watched him carefully, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk that was almost sympathetic. “Getting sentimental, Suguru?”

He scoffed, the sound sharper than usual. “No. Just thinking.”

“About?” He didn’t answer right away, his eyes still fixed on Gojo’s grin, the same one that used to be mirrored by his own. Used to be.

“Nothing,” he finally muttered, turning away from the window. “It’s nothing.”

Shoko watched him retreat, her gaze lingering on his back before drifting back to you and Gojo. Gojo had finally let you up, his head thrown back as he laughed, and you were swatting at him, a grin breaking through your faux irritation.

The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the courtyard. Shoko took another drag of her cigarette, her eyes thoughtful. In the quiet space between laughter and cicadas, there was something heavy something that Geto couldn’t bring himself to name.

@pandabiene5115 @inthedarkshadows000

Dabi x Reader | Hawks x Reader

°❀.ೃ࿔ Knowing how to Find Them °❀.ೃ࿔

teehee i have issues… my other works - masterlist

synopsis: Between hero catcalling, banter, and some very suspicious shoulder to shoulder proximity, one thing is clear: Y/n otherwise known as pro hero Lumine has a type, and it’s problematic.

you let the cool night air settle over your skin as you gazed at the city below. The hum of neon lights, the distant chatter of people, the occasional wail of sirens, it was all background noise to the quiet moment you had carved out for yourself. Well, semi quiet. Dabi stood a few feet away, leaning against the rusted railing, cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. The soft glow of the embers flickered against his scarred skin, casting sharp shadows across his features. He exhaled a slow curl of smoke, blue eyes watching you through the haze, unreadable.

He was close enough that you could feel the occasional brush of his presence, subtle things. The way his arm ghosted yours when he shifted, how his voice dipped just a little lower when he spoke, like this was some shared secret neither of you were acknowledging.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Dabi murmured, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette. “That big hero life finally breaking you down?”

You huffed a soft laugh, tilting your head. “Nah. Just enjoying the moment. Kinda nice when you’re not actively trying to burn me alive.” Dabi smirked, amused. “Give it time.”

Before you could shoot back a reply, movement in the sky caught your attention a blur of crimson and gold slicing through the night, wings illuminated by city lights. With a wicked grin, you cupped your hands around your mouth and called out, “Damn, Hawks! Lookin’ good up there! Show me what those wings can do, baby!”

Hawks, mid flight, visibly stuttered in the air. His wings faltered for half a second before he caught himself, twisting in your direction. Even from here, you could see the slow smirk pulling at his lips.The moment the words left your mouth, With a flick of his fingers, one of his feathers shot toward you. fast, but not actually meant to hit. It whizzed past your face, stirring your hair before circling back to him.

“Lumine, you flirt!” he called out, amusement lacing his voice as he swooped lower. “Calling for me from the rooftops now?” he called back, voice dripping with amusement. With an effortless flick of his wings, he shot downward, landing in a graceful crouch before standing to his full height. He tucked his feathers in smoothly, golden eyes locking onto yours first then, slowly, sliding to Dabi.

And just like that, the amusement in his expression cooled.

“…Okay.” Hawks’ posture shifted, subtle but there his wings twitching slightly, muscles tightening just enough to be noticeable. His sharp gaze flickered back to you, his smile still in place but lighter now, more calculated. “So. Why are you hanging out with this guy?”

Dabi, who had been watching this entire exchange with an expression of increasing boredom, let out an exaggerated groan. “Oh, great. The chicken landed.”

Hawks ignored him completely, his focus still locked on you. His voice was light, casual, but his eyes? His eyes were searching tracking, assessing.

“hmmm it really is a nice night,” he pointed out, head tilting slightly. “you’re not fraternizing with the enemy now?”

You rolled your eyes. “Relax, Bird Boy. I’m just hanging out.”

“…With him?”

“Yup.”

Hawks let out a slow breath through his nose, like he was trying to process that without reacting. Then, as if deciding to take another approach, he took a single step closer, his shoulder nearly brushing yours. “Y’know,” he mused, voice dipping into something smoother, more coaxing, “you could’ve called me if you wanted company. I would’ve been here in seconds. Way better company, too.”

Dabi let out a scoff, unimpressed. “Wow, subtle. Real smooth.”

Hawks shot him a side glance, then turned back to you, golden eyes half lidded, lazy with amusement. “What, I’m not allowed to be worried about my favorite pro hero?” His voice softened slightly, just enough that it felt personal, like he was directing it just to you. “Seriously, Lumine. What’s the deal?”

Dabi shifted beside you, taking another slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a way that almost curled toward you before dissipating. You felt the faintest brush of his fingers against the back of your hand so fleeting it could’ve been mistaken for nothing at all. “You really need to raise your standards,” Dabi muttered.

You arched a brow at him. “i’m not sure if you’re any better”

Dabi shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Hawks let out a slow chuckle, running a gloved hand through his windswept hair. “Wow, that’s crazy. Exact same thing I was about to say.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You guys are exhausting.”

Hawks leaned in just slightly, voice dropping low enough that Dabi wouldn’t hear it over the city noise. “You good?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. His eyes weren’t just sharp now they were searching, careful, like he was looking for something beneath the surface. It wasn’t teasing anymore. It wasn’t playful. He was checking in. The corner of your mouth twitched up, but you kept your voice casual. “I’m fine, Kei.”

Hawks held your gaze for a beat longer, then exhaled, his easygoing smirk slipping back into place. “If you say so.”

Dabi watched the exchange with a blank expression before finally tossing his cigarette to the side, crushing it under his boot. “Alright, that’s my cue. I’ve hit my quota for annoying hero interactions tonight.” He stretched, rolling his shoulders before glancing down at you. Then, in the most casual, unbothered way possible, he reached out, fingers briefly ghosting over your wrist before stuffing his hands into his pockets. Just enough contact to be noticed. Just enough to linger.

Hawks’ wings flared, just slightly. Dabi smirked looking at his reaction. “Try not to let Bird Brain here talk your ear off.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows as easily as he’d arrived. Hawks let out a slow exhale, dragging a hand down his face. “You really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

You grinned. “That’s how i got to know you”

Hawks just shook his head, eyes flickering to where Dabi had vanished. And then, almost too quiet to hear. “…Don’t let him pull you under, Y/n.”

watching as Dabi left, his sharp eyes lingering on the spot for a moment longer than necessary. His wings twitched slightly, a small, restless movement, before he finally turned his attention back to you. You could see it in his face he wasn’t just brushing this off. The usual playful glint in his eyes had dulled, replaced by something softer. More serious.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y/n…”

That alone was enough to make you pause. He rarely said your name like that. like it was weighted, like he was choosing his words carefully. He took a step closer, his voice dropping just slightly. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You raised a brow. “Uh, we were just hanging out? You act like I got caught committing a crime.”

Hawks frowned, his golden eyes scanning your face, searching. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” His voice was quieter now, almost gentle. “Why are you hanging out with Dabi?”

You exhaled through your nose, leaning against the ledge. “I dunno, Kei. It’s not that deep. I just… got used to him, I guess. We cross paths a lot, and sometimes, I don’t feel like fighting. So we talk.”

Hawks didn’t look convinced. He stepped even closer, his warmth pressing against your side. “He’s dangerous, Lumine. And I know you can handle yourself. hell, you’re stronger than half the heroes I know but that’s not the point.”

There was something about the way he said it, the way his voice softened at the edges, that made your chest tighten just a little. You forced a smirk, bumping your shoulder against his. “What, you worried about me?”

Hawks didn’t laugh. Instead, he reached out and flicked a loose strand of hair away from your face, his gloved fingers barely grazing your skin. His touch was light, fleeting, but it left warmth in its wake.

“Of course, I’m worried about you, dumbass,” he muttered, his brows furrowing. “You matter to me, okay? And I know you. when you let people hang around, there’s always a reason. So, what’s the reason?”

You swallowed, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. Hawks was always teasing, always throwing out quick witted remarks and playful jabs. You looked away, focusing on the city lights instead of the concern in his eyes. “I don’t know,” you admitted after a pause. “I guess… I see something in him.”

Hawks’ wings drooped slightly. “Y/n—”

“Not like that,” you sighed. “I know he’s a villain. I know he’s done terrible things. But sometimes, when he’s not being, y’know, Dabi. he’s just some guy who’s been hurt one too many times. And I don’t think he ever really had someone in his corner.”

Hawks’ lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t look angry, just… sad. Like he understood exactly what you meant, and that only made this worse. After a long silence, he huffed out a breath and shook his head. “You always do this,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Always finding strays.”

You smirked. “You say that like I didn’t find you first.”

Hawks let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head. “Yeah, but I’m a catch.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly, and this time he actually laughed. But the concern never fully left his face. “Just… promise me something,” he said, his voice quieter again. “Be careful. I don’t want to lose you to someone who doesn’t deserve you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you played it off with a grin. “Damn, Hawks. If I didn’t know better, i’d say you were in love with me”

He clicked his tongue, stepping back with a smirk, but his wings stretched slightly like he was reluctant to leave. “Tch, don’t get cocky.” But then his expression softened again, his golden eyes warm as they met yours. “…Just don’t make me worry, okay?”

You gave him a lazy salute. “No promises.”

Hawks let out a long suffering sigh, but he smiled anyway. “You’re the worst.”

he took off into the sky, leaving you alone with nothing but the fading sound of flapping wings and the lingering warmth of his touch. He had been gone for a while now, but you could still hear his voice in your head.

“Just don’t make me worry, okay?”

You sighed, resting your elbows on the ledge, staring out at the skyline.

“You’re brooding.”

You didn’t flinch at the voice, just smirked to yourself. “Didn’t know you were still lurking.”

Dabi strolled up beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, the faint smell of smoke and ash clinging to him. “Didn’t know you’d still be here,” he shot back, mimicking your tone. His voice was that usual mix of amusement and disinterest, but the fact that he hadn’t just left after Hawks showed up said enough.

You exhaled through your nose. “Guess we both like rooftops.”

Dabi snorted. “Guess so.”

Dabi watched you for a moment, his smirk still in place but his expression a little softer now. He leaned in slightly, closing that small space between your shoulders just enough to make it noticeable.

Finally, he spoke. “So. You and Bird Brain, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “If one more person says that”

Dabi smirked, exhaling a slow curl of smoke. “Relax, Y/n or should I say Lumine since we’re supposed to be enemies,” he drawled, stretching out your name like it was a tease. “Just saying, he sure seemed invested in whatever this is.”

You scoffed. “He’s nosy.”

Dabi chuckled. “Oh, I know that. But he’s also jealous.”

You turned to him with a deadpan stare. “Really?”

He shrugged, smirk still in place. “Yeah. But I get it. I’d be jealous too if I had to watch someone else get all your time.”

That one caught you off guard. You blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. “Dabi”

He cut you off with a lazy wave of his hand. “Relaxxxx, I ain’t about to start writing love letters or anything. Just making an observation.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Right. Sure.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough that his shoulder did brush against yours this time. “I do have to give you credit, though. Takes guts to flirt with the guy who’s actively trying to arrest me.”

“Hey,” you defended, “he’s my friend”

Dabi snorted. “Yeah, yeah, I noticed.” He tapped his fingers against the ledge, then glanced at you. His smirk softened just slightly, like he was debating whether to say something. After a beat, he nudged you lightly with his elbow. “You know, if Bird Brain ever gets too annoying, I do have ways to make him shut up.”

You raised a brow. “By setting him on fire?”

“Exactly.”

You snickered, nudging him back. “Yeah, let’s not.”

He hummed in response, then tilted his head toward you, blue eyes glinting. “You sticking around, or what?” You considered it. Hawks would definitely have a few choice words for you if he found out you spent even more time with Dabi tonight. But, you weren’t in a rush to leave. For a villain he always felt like a hero to you.

You shrugged. “Guess I am.”

Dabi let out a mock sigh. “Tch. Guess I’ll allow it.”

You shot him a grin. “How generous.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t move away. The city hummed below you, but up here, it was just the two of you, shoulders barely brushing, the night stretching on ahead.

You: no, YOU'RE looking at him respectfully. i'm objectifying him to filth we're built different

Dabi: *so unbelievably disgusted*

love

Sal Fisher X Reader

ᯓ★ Why Would You ᯓ★

A small drabble. Btw! i just found this pixel art on pinterest and if someome can point me at the artist that would be super swaggy!!!

masterlist

SYNOPSIS: he left you alone. After everything he’s left you alone.

ᯓ★ The graveyard is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your ears ring, like the world is holding its breath. You shift on your feet, staring at the headstone, your fingers tightening around the bouquet of flowers you brought. They’re crushed now petals bent, stems snapped but you don’t care. You’re not even sure why you brought them in the first place. It’s not like he can appreciate them.

Your chest feels tight, something thick and unbearable pressing against your ribs. It’s been years. Years since you stood here for the first time, too numb to do anything but cry. Time was supposed to dull the pain, make it easier to breathe, but it hasn’t. If anything, the ache has settled in, a permanent part of you that refuses to fade.

You kneel, fingers brushing the dirt from the letters carved into stone. Sal Fisher. The name alone feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey, Sal,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

Silence. Of course, silence.

You suck in a sharp breath, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “You always said ghosts stick around when they have unfinished business. But if that’s true, then why?” Your throat tightens. You press your palm against the cold granite as if that’ll make the words come out easier. “Why can’t I feel you here?”

Your fingers curl against the stone, frustration bubbling up beneath the grief. “I’ve seen ghosts before, you know? Back at the apartment, they showed up whenever they felt like it. They whispered, moved things, made their presence known. But you? You” Your voice rises, shaking with anger. “you just left. Like you were never even here.”

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves, but it’s not enough. It’s not a voice, not a sign, not him.

running both hands through your hair as you let out a bitter laugh. “You were supposed to be different, Sal. You were always different. Smarter. Stronger. You always found a way. So why the hell is this the one thing you can’t do?”

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down. “Do you know how long I waited?” Your hands clench into fists at your sides. “I kept looking for something anything. A flickering light, a dream, a voice, a shadow out of the corner of my eye. But there was nothing. Not a damn thing.” You shake your head, chest heaving. “Was I expecting too much?”

The weight in your chest presses heavier, suffocating, as you stare at his name carved into cold, unfeeling stone.

“Do you have any idea what you left me with?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. It shakes not with sorrow, but with anger.

Your hands tremble as they grip the ruined bouquet. “Ashley’s gone. Vanished. I don’t know where she went, and I don’t even know if she’s still alive. Todd” You suck in a sharp breath, jaw tightening. “Todd barely speaks anymore. He’s a ghost in his own way, Sal. He’s still here, but he’s not.”

Your voice rises, fury crackling through your grief. “Everyone else is dead! Do you get that? Everyone is dead!” Your foot slams against the base of the grave, dirt shifting under your heel. “You said you’d always be here, but you’re not! You left me!”

A sob tears out of your throat, but you bite it back, refusing to break. Not here. Not now.

“You weren’t supposed to go,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “You were everything, Sal. You were my best friend, my family.” You choke on the words, then force them out, raw and trembling. “the love of my life.”

You clutch at your chest, nails digging into the fabric of your shirt as if you could rip out the hollow ache where he used to be.

“You didn’t just die, Sal. You left me.”

The wind howls through the graveyard, rattling the branches, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not him. It’s never him.

pressing your forehead against the stone, fists clenched so tightly your nails bite into your palms. “I don’t want to do this without you,” you admit, voice small. “I don’t know how.”

Silence stretches between you and the grave, as empty as the space he left behind.

Your shoulders drop, exhaustion settling into your bones. The anger drains just as quickly as it came, leaving only the grief behind. You exhale shakily, falling back to your knees, pressing your forehead against the headstone like it’ll somehow bring you closer to him.

“I miss you, sal,” you whisper. “I don’t know if I want you to be at peace or if I want you to haunt me forever.” You let out a hollow laugh. “Because if you’re really gone… I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The wind shifts, softer this time, brushing against your skin like a touch you can’t quite feel. You close your eyes. For a second just one second you think you hear it. A whisper, faint and familiar.

“I miss you too.”

Your breath catches, eyes snapping open. But there’s nothing. Just the wind and the empty graveyard.

Maybe it was real. Maybe it wasn’t.

Either way, it’s not enough.

i feel my funny meme area should not be here for this one

DC COMICS - Masterlist

BATMAN | Bruce Wayne

ᯓ★ Gotham Socialite

ᯓ★ You’re Weird

ᯓ★ Someone Thought Of Me (Batmom)

ᯓ★ My Sons Boyfriend (Batmom)

NIGHTWING | Dick Grayson

ᯓ★ Voice on the line

SUPERBOY | Connor Kent

ᯓ★ Batblood

THE RIDDLER | Edward Nygma

ᯓ★ Sweet Eddie

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Characters I want to write ⋆✴︎˚｡

Ray Palmer - arrowverse

Jason Todd

John Constantine

and more….

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance

Saiki Kusuo x Non-Binary! Reader

Book 1

Follows the events of Season One

Prologue: Troublesome "Friends"

Chapter One: Girl Problems and Beach Woes

Chapter Two: Ghosts and Guardians

Chapter Three: Sports Festival

Chapter Four: Safety Drills and Clairvoyants

Chapter Five: Ramen Shops

Chapter Six: Christmas Eve

Chapter Seven: New Year's Day

Chapter Eight: Valentine’s Day Chaos and Movie Night Misunderstandings

Chapter Nine: Mothers and Meetups

Chapter Ten: Traveling to Okinawa

Chapter Eleven: Accidents and Reveals

Chapter Twelve: Insecurities and Sweets

Chapter Thirteen: Punk Transfer

Chapter Fourteen: Festival Display

Chapter Fifteen: Festival Problems

Chapter Sixteen: Taking Teruhashi Out (on a Not-Date)

Chapter Seventeen: Delinquent Run-In and Teruhashi’s Home-Visit

Chapter Eighteen: Karaoke Party

Chapter Nineteen: Toritsuka’s Possessions and Club

Chapter Twenty: Crepes and Breaks

Chapter Twenty-One: Adventures in London

Chapter Twenty-Two: Summer Break Days

Chapter Twenty-Three: Rich Transfer Trouble

Chapter Twenty-Four: Celebrations

Book 2:

Follows the Events of Season Two

Prologue: Relationships

Chapter One: Cafes and Clothes

Chapter Two: Saiko's Mansion

To be continued...

Specials:

Pride Specials: 2024

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

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⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

YOU ARE A COUGAR

────୨ৎ────

Geto Suguru X Reader

Gojo Satoru X Reader

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₍^. .^₎⟆ Synopsis: In a world of curses and power struggles take center stage, you’ve always kept to the simple aspects of life. Focussing on your studies, your friendships and life in the dorms. Though everything changes when Geto challenges Gojo that he can’t win your heart and what happens when Geto realizes that Gojo needs to lose.

MASTERLIST

has it been a while since I updated this series? since getting back to canada from the philippines, being a responsible adult and working all the time means i only had time to post my little one shots. BUT I HAVE A FEW CHAPTERS ALREADY WRITTEN IM TRYING

₍^. .^₎⟆ The four of you stood in front of Principal Yaga’s desk, waiting for what was clearly going to be a Very Important Mission. Shoko looked like she was three seconds from falling asleep. Geto had his arms crossed, already preparing himself for whatever was about to come. You just stood there, waiting patiently. Gojo, on the other hand, was leaning back, hands in his pockets, already looking bored. “When was the last time we had a mission with all 4 of us? He knows if im here it doesn’t really matter ”

Yaga exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple like he was already losing braincells with having you all here. Then, with a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and spoke. “Your next assignment is training with the second and first years.”

“…That’s it?” you asked.

“That’s it,” Yaga confirmed.

Gojo blinked, then recoiled like he had just been physically assaulted by the information. “Training with the kids?!”

“Yes,” Yaga said, voice flat.

Gojo turned to Geto, grabbing his shoulders. “We’ve been set up.”

Geto sighed. “It does feel that way.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Gojo turned back to Yaga, waving his hands. “Why do we have to do this? We’re third years! Why are we suddenly getting stuck with mentor duty?”

Yaga crossed his arms. “Because you four have more experience, and they could benefit from learning from you.”

Shoko yawned. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

You tilted your head. “Wait… who exactly are we training with?”

“Nanami Kento and Haibara Yu.” Gojo groaned so loudly it echoed. “NOOOO?!”

“You wouldn’t know them,” Geto said looking towards you. “You’re always running off to other countries.”

Gojo threw his hands up. “Exactly! So why are we getting stuck with this?”

“Wouldnt that be a better reason? For Y/n to know more of the sorcerers?” Yaga deadpanned.

You crossed your arms. “I mean, how bad could it be?”

Gojo turned to you so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. “How bad could it be?!” He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “You don’t understand! You weren’t here when we had to deal with Mei Mei treating us like free labor! You weren’t here when Utahime existed in front of us for five hours straight! We’ve been through too much!”

You blinked. “…It’s literally just training and we are the one that are in charge.”

“That’s what they want you to think!” Gojo hissed.

Yaga sighed, rubbing his temple. “Go now. Before I make you babysit panda.”

Geto grimaced. “Ugh. Let’s just get this over with.”

Gojo whined all the way out the door. “This is so unfair.”

Shoko started leaning on gojo and muttered, “We’re already suffering.”

You just shrugged. “Still don’t get what the big deal is.”

Gojo pointed at you, eyes wide. “You will.”

As the four of you walked away from Yaga’s office, Gojo was still pouting, muttering to himself. “This is so unfair,” he repeated, dramatically flicking his hair out of his eyes as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Honestly, how much can we possibly do with those second and first years?” Geto mumbled, clearly irritated but not as loud about it as Gojo.

You shrugged. “I still don’t see the big deal. We’ve all trained as underclassmen before.”

“It’s different when it’s you four!” Gojo whined, flailing his arms. “Do you know how many people would kill for a mission this week? And what do we get? Babysitting wit our other option ALSO being babysitting!”

Shoko, still unfazed,. “We’re not actually babysitting. You’re just dramatic.”

Gojo threw up his hands. “I’ll show you dramatic when I’m stuck with them! You know how I work, I need to be doing something, not sitting around listening to people talk about how to punch a curse!”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help but smile. You were used to Gojo’s over the top complaints. Then, suddenly, Gojo stopped in his tracks and looked at you with wide eyes. “Wait.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He grinned mischievously, like a lightbulb had gone off in his head. “You!”

“…Me?” you asked, confused.

“Yes, you!” Gojo pointed at you, nearly poking your nose in the process. “You’ve got that magical power of yours, your insane ability to always be on missions! Maybe you can finally get us something good while we’re stuck playing teacher’s pet with the underclassmen!”

You blinked. “You do know I don’t have magical powers, right? Also gojo… do you have something wrong in the head? we’re literally walking there”

“Sure you do! It’s like the luck of the draw or something! You’re always out of the loop when it comes to stuff like this because you’re always on a mission or off somewhere else! That’s your power! You’re the best at missing things!” completely ignoring what you said.

“I don’t miss things on purpose…”

He ignored you completely, grabbing your arm. “You have to get a mission! I’m begging you. Please. Do whatever you have to do. I can’t be stuck with Nanami and Haibara for an entire week!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at how frantic he was. “You’re really asking me to use my ‘powers’ to help you skip out of training with our underclassmen?”

“Yes!” Gojo practically fell to his knees in front of you, hands clasped together like he was praying. “Please, put me in your bag! Take me with you! I’ll do anything! I’ll even”

“No,” you interrupted, laughing harder. “I’m not dragging you around in a bag just to escape training. It’s not going to happen.”

Gojo groaned and flopped on the ground dramatically. “This is the worst.”

Geto rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you two.”

Shoko just shook her head, exhaling smoke. “At least we can relax while they’re busy with the first years. You’ll be fine.”

Gojo lay on the floor with his arms splayed out. “I’ll never be fine again.”

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The girls’ locker room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights. You had just finished changing into your towel when it hit you you forgot your gym clothes.

“Seriously?!” you groaned, facepalming in frustration.

You quickly scanned the locker room, hoping to find something, anything, that could help. No luck. All your clothes were neatly folded in your bag, but… no workout gear. Shaking your head, you cursed under your breath. “Great. Just great. I’m going to look like a total mess today.”

But then, you remembered: Gojo. You knew the men’s locker room was just down the hall, and Gojo always kept a spare set of clothes for emergencies like this. Sure, you weren’t supposed to be in the men’s locker room, but he was your best friend. You’d shared stuff since you were kids, this was nothing new. Without hesitation, you marched over to the door to the men’s locker room. You knocked loudly, pounding your fist on the wood like your life depended on it. “Gojo!” you yelled, voice echoing through the hallway. “Gojo! You in there? I need your spare workout clothes!”

You waited a beat. Nothing. You knocked harder, this time adding a few choice words for emphasis. “Gojo! Are you seriously going to leave me stranded here? Come on, I’m not asking for much! Just some spare clothes!”

Still no response. You leaned your forehead against the door, muttering to yourself. “He better not be napping in there or I swear”

BANG! You gave the door one last solid knock, pushing all your frustration into it. “GOJO!!!”

Finally, the door creaked open just enough to reveal a disheveled Gojo, still half dressed in his gym gear, “What?!” he groaned, clearly not thrilled with the interruption.

“Don’t give me that look!” you shot back. “I need your spare clothes. You’re the only one who comes prepared for this kind of stuff.”

Gojo sighed dramatically and ran a hand through his hair. “you crazy lady why am I the prepared one,” he grumbled, pulling a pair of athletic shorts and a plain shirt from his bag. “If it were anyone else, I’d say no. You’ve got some nerve showing up at my door like this.”

You smiled at him sweetly. “You do this for me.”

“Don’t get cocky.” Gojo handed over the clothes with an exaggerated flourish. “Here. Don’t mess them up, okay?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who would be messing up your stuff.”

Gojo leaned against the doorframe, looking far too pleased with himself. “Just remember, I’m a generous guy. And you owe me one now.”

“Oh, please,” you muttered, taking the clothes from him. “Like I’d ever forget you gave me your old stuff.”

Gojo grinned smugly, hands on his hips. “Exactly. You’ll remember this every time you put them on. Now go change and don’t take forever. We’ve got training to do.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned and made your way back to the girls’ locker room, a sense of relief washing over you as you got ready to train. You didn’t even mind that Gojo always seemed to find a way to be both annoying and helpful at the same time. It was just so him.

Though on the Inside the men’s locker room during your knocking crusade, the usual pre training bustle was happening. Gojo and Geto were leaning against lockers, talking about a really annoying bug called utahime. Haibara was rummaging through his bag, searching for his gym shoes, while Nanami stood at the mirror looking at himself.

Gojo, as always, was the first to notice anything out of the ordinary. He smirked and leaned back, eyes hidden behind his blindfold. “You hear that?” he asked, half smiling.

“Knocking?” Geto murmured, looking up from his phone with a raised eyebrow. He wasn’t nearly as fazed by the interruption as Gojo, but he was intrigued nonetheless.

Haibara, hearing the louder than usual knocking, looked over his shoulder. “Is someone outside? Should we check?”

Gojo tilted his head, pretending to consider it before giving a dismissive wave. “Nah, it’s probably nothing. Maybe some cursed spirit knocked on the wrong door. If it were a real emergency, they’d just barge in, right?” Geto rolled his eyes but didn’t look away from his phone. “If someone’s knocking on that door this loudly, it’s definitely not just a mistake.”

The knocking grew more persistent, and then a familiar voice echoed through the room, sending a shiver of realization through everyone. “Gojo! Are you in there? I need your spare workout clothes!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. “Wait a second ” Gojo’s smile widened, a mischievous glint flashing behind his blindfold. “That voice…”

“She’s seriously knocking on the men’s locker room?” Haibara asked, blinking in confusion. He knew you well enough from your shared missions but never thought he’d be hearing you demand clothes from Gojo in such an… unusual way.

“It’s just her,” Gojo said, still grinning. “give me a moment”

Nanami, who had been silently adjusting his uniform, frowned. “hmmm.” He glanced between Haibara and Geto. “Should we do something about it?”

Geto just shrugged, clearly more used to Gojo’s antics by now. “Nah. She’s been doing this kind of thing for years. She and Gojo have no boundaries.”

Haibara snickered under his breath. “I didn’t realize that was a thing…”

Gojo let out a loud sigh as the knocking continued, growing more desperate now. “Gojo!!! I need your spare clothes!”

Haibara couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. “Does this happen often?”

Geto raised an eyebrow, his face a picture of nonchalance. “More times than you’d think.”

Nanami sighed, crossing his arms. “She really knows how to make an entrance.”

Gojo, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying himself. “This is gonna be great,” he said, turning to Geto. “You know she’s going to make a scene when she comes in.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll hear all about it during training,” Geto replied dryly, finally setting his phone aside and preparing to grab his gear. “We’ll just pretend we didn’t hear her until she comes storming in here to yell at you, huh?”

Haibara, still laughing, looked between the others. “I feel like I’m missing something here. Why does she keep coming to you?”

“Because,” Gojo said, crossing his arms and grinning widely, “we’ve been best friends forever, and she knows I’ve always got her back. And extra clothes, apparently.”

“Of course, you do,” Geto muttered, knowing full well how often Gojo would come to the rescue with something random, like extra gym clothes.

As the knock echoed one last time, Gojo walked over to the door, his grin widening. “I’ll be right back, boys. Gotta go save the day again.”

With that, Gojo opened the door just enough to pass the clothes through. On the other side, you stood there, looking far too confident, hands on your hips.

“Finally,” you said, clearly relieved.

The guys inside the locker room shared a look. Haibara raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the casual intimacy you and Gojo shared, while Nanami just rolled his eyes, still more focused on his gear.

Gojo handed you the clothes with a flourish, his grin teasing. “There you go. All set, bestie.”

Haibara couldn’t help but laugh, glancing at Nanami. “I think I get it now. It’s like a lifelong partnership or something.”

“Ugh, don’t even start with me,” Nanami muttered, clearly unimpressed by the antics. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand them.”

Gojo, still grinning, turned back to face them. “You’ll get used to it. We’re just that special.”

You strolled in, looking like you were swimming in Gojo’s oversized clothes. The bright white shirt, two sizes too large, hung loosely around your frame, and the athletic shorts were practically falling off, held up only by the drawstring. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, but still, they almost reached your elbows, and the whole ensemble looked like it could swallow you whole. You had clearly taken Gojo’s extra clothes without a second thought.

The silence lingered for a moment before Geto was the first to break it, raising an eyebrow. “Did you really have to wear that?” he asked, unable to suppress a smirk.

You grinned at him, completely unfazed by the attention. “What? It’s not like I had any other option. Gojo said it’s his ‘emergency backup’ set. his stuff is basically my stuff so it doesnt matter now” You tugged at the fabric, making it bunch up around your waist in a way that could only be described as absurd.

Haibara blinked, completely taken aback by the sight. “Whoa. I didn’t know Gojo’s clothes were that… big.” He stifled a laugh, clearly impressed with your choice of fashions.

Shoko snorted from her spot on the sideline, rolling her eyes as she leaned back. “You look ridiculous.” Her voice was lazy, but you could tell she was trying not to laugh. “But Gojo’s clothes being your option is so stupid, you could’ve just come get me”

“Shut up,” you said, still grinning. “It’s too late now… I’m rolling with it. Besides, Gojo’s just mad because I look better in his clothes than he does.”

“Hey, I’m right here!” Gojo called out from the corner, where he had been stretching. He had a huge grin plastered on his face, though, clearly entertained by the sight of you swaying around in his oversized gear. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not a part of this!”

You turned to face him, hands on your hips, still unapologetically drowning in his clothes. “Well, if you didn’t have such giant clothes lying around, I wouldn’t have to make do with your fancy leftovers.”

Shoko chuckled, her gaze sliding from you to Gojo. “The best part is that he doesn’t mind you wearing his stuff at all. Can you imagine if anyone else tried it? Gojo would probably lose it.”

Gojo just shrugged, a playful smirk on his face as he approached you. “I’m a generous guy. Plus, I have to make sure my best friend is always prepared, right?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, the sleeve of his shirt hanging off his arm in a dramatic way, almost like he was trying to own the moment.

Geto, clearly amused, raised his hands. “Alright, alright, no need to show off. We get it, Gojo. You’re a walking charity case for your best friend.”

“Exactly!” Gojo said, his grin turning teasing. “I’m just too kind for my own good.”

You shot him a playful look. “And I’m way too cute for my own good.”

Haibara laughed, his energy returning as he clapped his hands together.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile never left your face. “Okay, okay. I’m done here.” You threw a quick wink at Gojo before turning toward the training mats. “Let’s get to it before Gojo finds any more of his ‘emergency backups’ for me to wear.”

As you walked toward the center of the training ground, you could hear Gojo calling out to you. “I’m serious! You do look better in them!”

Geto, shaking his head with an amused smile, looked at Shoko. “I think we’re going to be hearing about this for a while.”

“Yeah,” Shoko replied with a lazy grin. “I’ll bet five yen that Gojo’s gonna ask for his clothes back before the day ends.”

“only 5?”

You could hear Gojo’s dramatic sigh from across the field. “I can’t believe you don’t think I look amazing in those clothes,” he shouted, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

It was definitely going to be a long day. Your gaze shifted to the two unfamiliar faces standing across from you Nanami and Haibara. It was clear they were second and first years, respectively, though they carried themselves with maturity and confidence.

Gojo, as always, was casually leaning against a nearby post, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He’d somehow convinced you to show up in his clothes, and now he was basking in the aftermath of his “success.”

“You’re all probably wondering who the new guys are,” Gojo said, interrupting the silence as he gestured lazily toward Nanami and Haibara. “Well, let me introduce you. This is Nanami Kento, secondyear extraordinaire. And this is Haibara, my fun loving first year protege.”

You turned to face them fully, giving them both a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you both! I’m Y/n” You started,

Nanami gave a polite, composed nod. “I’ve heard of you. It’s an honor to work with someone as experienced as you.” His tone was calm and respectful, and you appreciated the sincerity in his voice.

Haibara, on the other hand, gave a bright grin and waved a bit awkwardly, clearly the more approachable of the two. “I’m Haibara! It’s awesome to meet you! I’ve heard all kinds of stories about your missions!” He seemed excited to be working with someone more seasoned.

You chuckled, brushing your hair back with one hand. “Stories, huh? Well, I wouldn’t say I’m that special more like I’m just always on the move for missions.”

You took a step closer to Nanami and Haibara, giving them both an appraising look. “But I’ve got to say, you two are way nicer than Gojo made you sound,” you added with a smirk, casting a sideeye at your best friend who was still standing off to the side, acting like he owned the whole training field.

Gojo made an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. “Ouch, that hurts! I’m so nice, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He grinned wide, clearly trying to downplay the jab.

Haibara laughed softly at the exchange, clearly amused by the dynamic between you and Gojo. “Yeah, he makes everything sound way more dramatic than it needs to be,” he said, giving Gojo a playful look. “I mean, come on nice is an understatement when it comes to you.”

You nodded in agreement, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Exactly. Look at this guy,” you said, gesturing to Gojo. “He acts like he’s the only one who can be ‘fun,’ but honestly, I think you two are way easier to talk to.” You directed the compliment toward Nanami and Haibara.

Nanami gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, his usual stoic demeanor softening just a little. “I suppose we have our own way of approaching things. We prefer to focus on the task at hand.”

“Yeah,” Haibara chimed in enthusiastically, “but we’re still here to have fun! I think I’ll like working with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, impressed by their reactions. “I think I might too,” you said. “You’re both way less dramatic than Gojo it’s refreshing.”

Gojo, ever the dramatic one, threw his arms in the air. “Why does everyone gang up on me? I’m such a good person!” His voice was full of mock offense, though it was clear he was enjoying the attention.

“Maybe we’ll see how good you are once we start training,” you teased, turning back to Nanami and Haibara. “But seriously, it’s nice to meet you two. I’ve been out of the loop with missions, so I don’t get to interact with many of the underclassmen.”

“We’ll make sure you don’t regret it,” Haibara said with a wink. “And hey, maybe you’ll teach me a few things?”

You chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from you two as well. Though, I warn you, Gojo’s the one with all the dramatic stories, not me.”

Gojo crossed his arms, feigning a pout. “Hey, I’m allowed to be dramatic! It’s part of my charm!”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, earning a small laugh from Haibara and even a slight smile from Nanami.

“Well,” you continued, turning back to Nanami and Haibara, “looks like we’ve got a good team. No drama just pure talent.”

Geto, who had been quiet for most of the exchange, looked between you and Gojo before smirking. “You know,” he said, “if you keep defending Gojo like that, you’re going to make him insufferable.”

Gojo immediately grinned and winked at you. “See? They get me.”

You just shook your head. “I’ll stick with you guys, as long as Gojo doesn’t start talking too much.”

Gojo gasped. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but I’m not sure if you’re actually joking!”

Laughing, you turned to Nanami and Haibara. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. But, seriously, it’s great to finally meet you both in person.”

It was clear that Gojo and Geto were in their usual mood mischievous, but with a hint of cruelty. You had seen this before, especially when they started ganging up on someone, and you could tell that Nanami was in for it. He was a bit too serious for their liking, and you both knew how much they enjoyed poking fun at anyone who didn’t quite fit their mold.

Gojo was the first to break the silence, his grin wide and devilish. He took a slow step toward Nanami, sizing him up with an exaggerated scrutinizing gaze. “So, Nanami, you really think you can handle this, huh? I hope you’ve been training hard, ’cause I don’t go easy on anyone.” He clicked his tongue and raised an eyebrow, feigning disappointment. “I mean, I guess you’re okay for a secondyear, but we both know you can barely keep up with me.”

Nanami, who had been standing calmly with his arms crossed, gave Gojo a cool stare. “I’m not worried,” he replied, his tone neutral but firm. He wasn’t one to back down easily, and that only seemed to fuel Gojo’s amusement further.

Geto leaned in from the side with a knowing smirk, folding his arms across his chest. “You know, Gojo, Nanami might be too uptight for this field. His whole ‘serious’ vibe isn’t exactly the best for fighting. I mean, I can already see you wiping the floor with him, but maybe we should make this fun.” His eyes flickered with mischief, and he made no effort to hide the fact that he was provoking Nanami.

You could already tell they were about to turn this into something personal. Gojo and Geto had a way of driving people insane with their teasing, pushing buttons until it was almost unbearable.

Gojo snickered, tilting his head to the side. “I gotta admit, though, Nanami, it’s pretty cute that you think you can hang with us.” He looked over to you, his grin widening. “Don’t you think so, Y/n? You’ve seen this before. Nanami’s so stiff. I mean, if I wanted someone to train in perfect posture, he’s the guy, but in a fight? Not so much.” He made an exaggerated motion with his arms to show how rigid Nanami seemed.

Geto let out a low laugh, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe we should give him a proper warmup before he gets embarrassed in front of everyone.” His eyes glinted with something darker, something that said he wasn’t going to stop unless someone intervened.

You stepped forward, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, knock it off. You two are really pushing it today. You know Nanami can hold his own.” You threw a protective arm around Nanami’s shoulders, trying to shield him from the escalating teasing.

But Gojo wasn’t having it. “Come on, Y/n. You really think he can handle me?” His voice was loud and dramatic, clearly trying to get a rise out of both you and Nanami. “You know, you are a secondyear, Nanami, but you’ve got a lot to learn. A lot.”

He moved closer, standing right in front of Nanami now. “Maybe you should take notes. I mean, look at me. I’m basically the perfect fighter. And you” Gojo poked Nanami’s chest in mock sympathy, “you’re just… well, Nanami. Not quite as impressive, huh?”

Geto chimed in, his tone more biting now. “Yeah, Nanami, maybe you should just stand to the side and watch. It’ll be safer for you, trust me.” He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want you to get too bruised up by the time this is over.”

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. You could tell the teasing was getting under his skin, even if he was trying to hold it together.

You stepped in front of Nanami, this time making sure to get in Gojo and Geto’s faces. “Enough,” you said, your voice firm. “You’re crossing a line.” You were trying to keep things light, but it was becoming obvious that they were being needlessly cruel now.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly not used to anyone standing up to him like this. “What’s the matter, Y/n? He’s a secondyear; this is just how we help people grow. You know that, right?” His eyes sparkled with his usual playful glint, but there was an edge to it now.

Geto smirked, pushing his hair back with one hand. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want Nanami to get soft, would we? It’s for his own good, really.”

You felt your irritation building. “You’re not ‘helping’ him. You’re just being assholes.” You turned to Nanami, giving him a small nod of support. “Don’t let them get to you. They like to joke around, but they’ll cross the line if no one stops them.”

Nanami let out a deep breath, seemingly unfazed. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” But his clenched jaw told you it wasn’t that fine. You could see he was about to snap, and that was exactly what Gojo and Geto wanted to see just how much they could get under his skin.

Before anything else could escalate, you moved in closer, putting a hand on Gojo’s shoulder and giving him a playful but firm shove. “Cut it out, Gojo. You’re not funny anymore. And Geto” You shot a glare at him, “You’re no better.”

Gojo sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine, we’ll be nice. I guess we can’t have any fun around here, huh?” He shot Nanami a wink, his teasing not quite done but pulled back just enough.

“You know, Y/n,” Geto drawled as he leaned back, “You really are soft when it comes to your friends. I didn’t realize you were such a defender.”

You glared at both of them, turning back to Nanami with a more gentle smile. “Ignore them, Nanami. You’re way better than they give you credit for.”

Nanami gave you a halfsmile, clearly grateful for the support. “Thanks. And I can handle them. I’ve seen worse than these two.”

You nodded, but you knew that Gojo and Geto had left their mark, and that meant you’d have to step in even more if they kept going down this path. But for now, it was over at least until they decided to start again.

“Alright, enough talk,” Gojo finally said with a teasing grin. “Let’s get to training. Nanami, I’ll go easy on you maybe.”

“Maybe?” You said, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. “Go easy on him? That’s rich, coming from you.” You looked at Nanami. “He’s full of it, you know.”

Shoko, still lounging around lazily on the sidelines, yelled out, “You’re all too dramatic. Just spar already!”

With the pressure momentarily off Nanami, everyone shuffled into place to start the sparring. The air had a lighter tone, though you knew Gojo and Geto wouldn’t let up entirely. But at least for now, Nanami had you backing him up, and that was enough to keep them in check. you decided it was safer (and more productive) to spar with Shoko.

Lazy as she was, she was no slouch when it came to combat. The moment you threw a strike, she blocked it effortlessly, twisting her body with a smoothness that made it clear she wasn’t just relying on her reversed cursed technique to stay relevant. You had to admit, for someone who complained about effort, she sure knew how to handle herself.

“Damn, Shoko,” you whistled as she sidestepped another attack. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually like training.”

She rolled her eyes, exhaling through her nose. “I don’t. But I also don’t like getting my ribs shattered on missions, so here we are.”

You laughed, stepping back before lunging at her again. “That’s a good point. But, you know” You grinned, pivoting midswing to test her reflexes. She blocked it easily, her movements as fluid as ever. “We don’t have to be those doomed yuri tropes.”

Shoko blinked at you, unimpressed, before immediately twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you forward.

“Ah Shoko, please, my pride”

“You’re the one who started flirting midspar,” she deadpanned, finally releasing you with a lazy shove.

Rubbing your wrist dramatically, you turned to her with a smirk. “Can you blame me? You’re cool, capable”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t start. You already have too many love interests.”

You paused, tilting your head. “What?”

Shoko waved a hand vaguely, as if dismissing the entire concept. “In another universe, maybe you’d actually focus on me and the female gender instead of collecting admirers like a shonen protagonist.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “…What?”

“Nothing.” She yawned, stretching her arms above her head before shooting you a side glance. “Just saying, if you ever wake up one day and decide men are too exhausting, I’m available.”

Your grin widened. “Noted.”

Before the conversation could go any further, a loud thud interrupted you Gojo had just sent Nanami sprawling across the ground, laughing like a maniac. You both sighed in unison.

“…Do we help him?” you asked.

Shoko rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Let’s give him a minute. Maybe he’ll start fighting back and finally shut Gojo up.”

Unlikely, but it was a nice thought.

₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆After parting ways with Nanami and Haibara, the four of you walked back toward the school. It was unusually quiet too quiet. Normally, Gojo would be running his mouth, filling the air with nonsense, but instead, he just sulked beside you, arms crossed, sunglasses slightly crooked like he was deep in thought over something profoundly lifealtering. Whatever. You stretched, feeling the soreness from sparring with Shoko settling into your muscles. “Man…” you sighed. “Nanami has a really attractive face.”

Dead silence.

“COUGAR!” Gojo practically shrieked, spinning toward you with such force that his sunglasses nearly flew off his face. Geto stopped walking altogether, staring at you like you had just committed the ultimate betrayal. Shoko, who had been lazily walking beside you, hummed in amusement but said nothing, clearly just waiting to see where this went.

You blinked. “What?”

“A COUGAR!” Gojo repeated, pointing at you like you were some sort of criminal. “You’re a whole thirdyear and you’re out here checking out a secondyear?! This is a scandal! A DISGRACE! I’m gonna have to tell Yaga that you’re out here preying on underclassmen”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groaned, shoving his face away. “He’s, like, one year younger than us. I just said he has a nice face. That’s an objective fact.”

“No, no, no,” Gojo shook his head wildly, grabbing Geto’s shoulders for support like he was about to collapse from shock. “Suguru, are you hearing this? Is this real? Is this real life?”

Geto, who had been staring at you like he was still trying to process what you had said, exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I gotta admit, I didn’t think you were capable of acknowledging anyone was attractive.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Gojo pointed aggressively. “All these years, and Y/n’s never once said anything about me… uh, us! And suddenly, Nanami’s stupid, serious face is worth talking about?”

“His emo blonde hair is kinda nice,” you added, just to get under their skin.

Gojo let out a fullbody gasp, stumbling backward like you had physically struck him. “THE AUDACITY!”

Geto crossed his arms, now fully invested in slandering you. “You’re really out here thirsting over underclassmen, huh? That’s crazy.”

“I didn’t say I was thirsting, I said he has a nice face,” you defended.

“Oh, no, no, no” Gojo wagged a finger at you, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You can’t take it back now. You said it. Out loud. With your mouth. In front of witnesses.”

“Witnesses?” you repeated, deadpan.

“Yes. Three witnesses, in fact,” Geto added, smirking.

“And Y/n, be honest with us,” Gojo said, stepping uncomfortably close. “Was it just his face? Or was it also that cold, brooding, businessmaninthemaking energy? You like ‘em serious, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please, I’ve known you my whole life, and you’re the exact opposite of serious.”

“Exactly!” Gojo threw his arms up. “Yet somehow, Nanami is getting all the love?! I’m beautiful!”

“Yeah, and I’m charming,” Geto added, flicking his hair back. “Yet somehow, you’ve never once looked at us and said anything like that. And then along comes little Nanami Kento with his serious face and his ‘I hate working overtime’ attitude, and suddenly, you’re interested?”

“You two are being so dramatic right now,” you groaned.

“We’re heartbroken, Y/n,” Geto sighed. “Absolutely devastated.”

“Tragic, even,” Gojo agreed.

“Completely betrayed.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “For the last time, I just said he was attractive. That’s literally it. Do you two want me to start commenting on how nice your faces are? Would that make you feel better?”

Gojo and Geto immediately stopped talking. They exchanged glances. Looked at you. Then at each other again. And in unison

“…Maybe.”

You groaned. “Unbelievable.”

Shoko, who had been silently observing the mess unfold, finally leaned over, her voice barely above a whisper. “Y/n, you’re getting so many love interests.”

You shot her a look. “Don’t start.”

She smirked, lighting a cigarette. “I’m just saying. Another universe, maybe you go for me instead. it’ll make tour life easier”

Gojo made another strangled noise, and Geto clutched his chest dramatically like he was about to faint. You, fully regretting everything, walked ahead. This was never going to end.

₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆

Gojo’s room was honestly not too horrible today. Clothes were thrown over his desk chair, an empty cup of instant ramen sat on the floor, and at least three pairs of sunglasses were scattered in random places. The sheer mess of it was something you had long since stopped questioning. You sat crosslegged on his bed, phone in hand, lazily scrolling as you replied to a text. Gojo, on the other hand, was lying upside down on the floor, feet propped up against the wall, a lollipop in his mouth as he tossed a ball up and down.

It was peaceful.

“Who are you texting?”

You barely glanced up. “Nanami.” The sound of the ball hitting the floor was immediate.

“WHAT.” Before you could react, Gojo launched himself onto the bed, nearly knocking the phone out of your hands.

“HEY!” you yelped, holding your phone out of reach.

“You’re texting Nanami?!” Gojo shrieked, eyes wide with betrayal.

“Yes?” You raised a brow. “Why are you acting like I committed a war crime?”

Gojo dramatically flopped onto the bed beside you. “Oh my god, Y/n. When did this happen? When did you two become texting buddies?!”

“Literally today.”

“AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO CONSULT ME?” He rolled onto his stomach, staring at you like you’d personally destroyed his worldview. “What could you possibly have to text Nanami about?”

“Books,” you replied simply.

Gojo stared at you for a long moment. “Books,” he repeated.

“Yes.” “That’s it?” “Yeah.”

He groaned, flopping facedown into the mattress. “You’re so boring.”

“You asked.”

Gojo turned his head dramatically. “Wait. Wait. Hold on.” His sunglasses had slipped down his nose, blue eyes squinting at you. “Are you… flirting?”

You blinked. “I just said we’re talking about books.” “But are you flirttexting about books?”

You stared at him. “What does that even mean?”

“You know, like ‘Oh Nanami, I simply adore the way you analyze classic literature~’” Gojo put on a terrible impression of you, complete with dramatic hand gestures.

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

“Oh my god.” Gojo sat up, eyes wide. “You like him. You think he’s hot.”

“I literally already said he has an attractive face,” you deadpanned.

“But that was in the moment!” Gojo gestured wildly. “Now you’re thinking about him. Texting him. This is a whole new level!”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your phone in your pocket. “You’re so dramatic.”

Gojo grabbed his chest like you’d just stabbed him. “I just never thought I’d see the day,” he gasped. “My best friend, my precious best friend, betraying me like this.”

“Oh my god, get a grip.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He collapsed backward onto the bed. “Go on, text your boyfriend. I’ll just sit here. Alone. Forgotten.”

You stared down at him before shoving a pillow over his face. Gojo immediately started flailing. “HELP! I’M BEING ATTACKED BY A TRAITOR!”

You groaned, shoving him off the bed. “If I knew texting Nanami would get this reaction, I would’ve done it sooner.”

Gojo, lying facedown on the floor, groaned. “I hate you.”

You pulled your phone out again “Nanami’s way more pleasant than you, anyway.”

Gojo screeched. This was never going to end. Gojo groaned dramatically from the floor, limbs sprawled like he’d just been hit by a truck. “I cannot believe this. My best friend, my one and only, has been stolen from me by a second year emo.”

You rolled your eyes, scrolling through your phone. “calm down big guy.”

Gojo peeked up at you, then, with zero warning, launched himself back onto the bed, flopping down beside you. The mattress bounced under his weight, and he made no effort to respect personal space, lying close enough that his shoulder pressed into yours. “I’m being serious,” he whined, dramatically resting his head on your shoulder. “What does Nanami have that I don’t?”

“Selfrestraint,” you said without missing a beat. Gojo gasped. “Excuse me?” He lifted his head to squint at you, affronted. “I have so much selfrestraint.”

“You just threw yourself onto me because I texted someone.”

“Okay, but that’s different,” he huffed, rolling onto his side to face you. “You never text people first.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “Name one person.”

“…Shoko.”

“Shoko doesn’t count. She texts you first.”

“…Geto?”

Gojo scoffed. “You text him, like, twice a week.”

“That’s still texting someone.”

He groaned, rolling onto his back and dramatically covering his face. “Ugh, whatever. I just think it’s suspicious that the first person you suddenly feel like texting is Nanami.”

“You’re just mad I called him attractive.”

“Because you never call people attractive!” He flailed a hand in the air. “You refuse to acknowledge anyone’s hotness! Then suddenly, you meet Nanami, and it’s all ‘Oh, what a nice face he has~’”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“That’s exactly how you sound.”

You let out a sigh, tilting your head toward him. “Okay, would it make you feel better if I said you were attractive?” Gojo immediately sat up, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

You blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just processing,” he said flatly.

“…Processing what?”

“That was the first time you’ve ever complimented my looks.”

You frowned. “That’s not true.”

“It is true,” he deadpanned. “I compliment you all the time. I tell you you’re pretty, I hype you up”

“And you sound insufferable every time,” you cut in.

“and I get nothing in return,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken.

“Meanwhile, Nanami shows up for one training session, and suddenly you’re swooning.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “I am not swooning.”

Gojo flopped back down beside you, still pouting. “If you start dating Nanami, I’m gonna die.”

You snorted. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Just drop dead on the spot.” He sighed dramatically. “My fragile heart won’t be able to take it.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention back to your phone. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo tilted his head toward you, watching as you lazily scrolled through your messages. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but then, in a much quieter voice, he said

“…You really think I’m attractive?”

You sideeyed him, unimpressed. “Don’t push it.” He grinned, his usual dramatic energy returning in an instant. “Oh, I’m pushing it. Say it again. Tell me how handsome I am.”

“No.” “Say it.” “Gojo ” “Saaay iiiit.”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the face. Gojo laughed, grabbing his own pillow and swinging back. And just like that, the teasing shifted into fullon mess, the two of you whacking each other like children, the earlier conversation long forgotten.

Gojo had you in a headlock. Not a real one more like a loose, ridiculous mess of tangled limbs and pillows as the aftermath of your impromptu pillow fight. His sunglasses were long gone, lost somewhere in the depths of his disaster of a room, and his snowwhite hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles.

You huffed, lying sprawled out beside him, out of breath from all the laughter. Your head rested against his shoulder, and neither of you had the energy to move. The room was quiet now, save for the occasional sound of Gojo shifting beside you. Then, after a long pause, he murmured, “You know… you never answered me.”

You cracked one eye open. “Answered what?”

“If you think I’m attractive,” he said, voice teasing, but there was something else beneath it. Something more serious.

You closed your eyes again. This was a trap. If you said no, he’d call you a liar. If you said yes, you’d never hear the end of it.…But also. You weren’t a liar. So, with an exhale, you muttered, “Yeah.”

Gojo stiffened. You felt it immediately the slight tensing of his arm beneath you, the way his breathing hitched just a little. Then, because you weren’t about to deal with the consequences of that admission, you immediately went limp against him.

“…Y/n.” You didn’t move. Gojo poked your cheek. “You’re not asleep.” No response. Another poke. “You literally just talked.” Nothing. Gojo groaned, shifting so he could look down at you. “You’re the worst.”

Still, you remained perfectly still, face neutral, pretending to be deep in sleep. For a moment, he said nothing. Just stared at you, his arm still around your shoulder, your body still leaning against him. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, the rare stillness in his presence.

Then, in a voice much softer than before, he said “Go out with me.”

Silence. Your heart did not just skip a beat. That was just… a bodily malfunction.

Gojo nudged your side. “I know you’re faking.” Nothing. “You’re such a coward,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to it. Just amusement. Maybe a little fondness.

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. Then, instead of pushing you away, he tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer.

“You’re gonna have to answer me eventually,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t let your face betray anything. But you felt everything. Gojo didn’t let go.

The soft sound of Gojo’s steady breathing filled the room as you slowly woke up, the weight of his arm still draped across your shoulders, pulling you in close. The sunlight had shifted, casting a warm glow through the blinds. You blinked a few times, your mind foggy as you tried to get your bearings. You were lying against Gojo’s chest, his body relaxed, his head resting on the pillow. The way he had wrapped himself around you in his sleep made it feel like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. His presence usually so present and overwhelming was now replaced by the calm of someone who’d finally let himself rest. You let out a quiet sigh, shifting slightly but careful not to disturb him. His breathing didn’t change, and you realized he was sound asleep. Your thoughts wandered, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“…I’m not stupid.” You spoke softly, not intending to wake him up. It was more of a mumble to yourself. But as you muttered those words, something inside you shifted, like a weight that had been hanging in the back of your mind finally settling into place.

“I see it now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Both of you.”

You let your eyes wander over to Gojo’s peaceful face, watching the way his features softened in sleep. Then, your thoughts turned to Geto. They were always together. The way they acted so close, so constantly wrapped up in each other’s orbit. Too close. It was almost like a competition for your attention, only you hadn’t realized it until now. It wasn’t until they both started acting so ridiculously possessive that the pieces finally clicked together.

You chuckled bitterly, shifting again and trying to untangle yourself from Gojo’s arm without waking him.

“Honestly… how did I not see it sooner?” You muttered to yourself, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “They’re both so obvious about it.”

Gojo shifted a bit in his sleep, his arm tightening slightly around you as if in response to your movements. You stilled, eyes wide for a moment, but then you relaxed, biting your lip.

“You know, it’s honestly kind of embarrassing,” you continued, still not fully processing how much you were revealing to yourself out loud. “Both of them… acting like they’re fighting for my attention. Like I’m some sort of prize.”

You laughed under your breath. “But I’m not stupid. I can see what they’re doing.”

The realization was so simple and yet so unexpected. Gojo’s flirty teasing, his relentless need for validation, and Geto’s cool demeanor that had a little too much weight behind it when it came to you it all clicked. They weren’t just being weird. They were being deliberate. You looked at Gojo again, his face serene in sleep, the playful, arrogant grin from earlier now replaced by a quiet, almost vulnerable expression. He was the same as always, but in a way, he wasn’t. You realized you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on with him, and it made your heart race just a little faster than you wanted to admit. With a sigh, you mumbled to yourself again, though the words felt heavier this time.

“I should be annoyed. I should be, right?”

You let the silence hang for a moment. But you weren’t. Instead, a quiet warmth spread through you, making you feel both frustrated and comforted at the same time. Gojo had always been the one to keep things a mess. But with the way he held you now his fingers loosely tangled in your hair, his breathing soft against your skin it almost felt… intimate.

You knew you couldn’t let yourself fall into the trap of his teasing, not this time. You had to be rational. But then again, you couldn’t ignore it either. You found yourself slowly letting your eyes slip closed again, not yet ready to face the mess of thoughts swirling inside your head. You barely realized you were drifting back into sleep until you felt Gojo’s hand gently rub circles on your back, as if he’d woken up without you noticing.

“…You’re not stupid,” he murmured sleepily, his voice rough with sleep. “I’m just really bad at hiding it.”

You froze, eyes snapping open as you realized he was awake. He shifted again, his arm sliding around you in a way that wasn’t exactly innocent. His face was still soft, though there was an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes. “You heard all that?” You asked, your voice a mix of shock and mild embarrassment.

He just smirked, the same playful smirk you’d known for years. “I always hear you, Y/n.”

You sat there in Gojo’s room, the weight of everything you’d said hanging between you. Gojo sat next to you, his usual carefree attitude nowhere to be found, though he tried to keep it together. He had his hand resting on the bed beside you, but the tension in his posture was clear. He’d listened quietly as you tried to untangle the mess of your feelings, but there was an undeniable frustration brewing inside him. He couldn’t deny it. A small part of him the selfish part was frustrated. He hated the way you were caught between him and Geto, like some kind of tugofwar. He had always been the one to be there for you. He had always been the one who made you laugh, who kept you grounded. And now, he was sharing you with someone else, someone who didn’t get to be your best friend in the same way he did. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you. How he always had. But instead, he was holding back, trying to be supportive, trying to be the best friend you needed, even though it was tearing him up inside. You weren’t making it easy on him, though. And maybe it was selfish, maybe it was wrong, but the thought of losing you to Geto or anyone else made him feel like his insides were twisting in knots. But Gojo wasn’t going to let that show. Not yet.

“You’re my best friend, Gojo,” you said, your voice quiet. Your words were like a balm, but they didn’t ease the frustration that was bubbling inside of him. Not yet. “You’ve been my best friend for so long, and I I love you. I do. But…” You trailed off, and Gojo held his breath, desperate to hear you continue, desperate for something anything that would tell him you felt the same.

“But then there’s Geto, too,” you finished, and Gojo had to fight the urge to grit his teeth.

His heart was pounding, and for a moment, he had to resist the urge to blurt out everything he had ever wanted to say. But no, he couldn’t. Not yet. He stayed silent, giving you space to work through it. He could hear the quiet pain in your voice, the way you were trying to figure everything out, but it was frustrating. So frustrating.

“Gojo,” you continued, meeting his gaze, and for a brief moment, his mask almost cracked. You looked so vulnerable, so unsure, and he couldn’t help but feel protective of you. But that little selfish part of him still wanted to yell, to make you choose him. “I don’t even know if romance is something I should be thinking about right now. Everything’s so messed up lately. Both you and Geto started, like… vouching for my affection out of nowhere, and it just…” You stopped, looking down, and Gojo swallowed hard, trying to push the frustration aside for now. “It’s made my head spin.”

He wanted to say something. To tell you that it wasn’t like that, that he had always been here for you, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he exhaled deeply, forcing himself to be calm, to just be there for you. He had to, even if it was tearing him up inside. “You’re not alone in this, Y/n,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, even though the jealousy was gnawing at him. “You don’t have to figure it out right now. You never rush into anything. You always take your time. So don’t let all this pressure you.”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “I know. I just ” You exhaled deeply, turning toward him. “It’s just hard. When I’m with you, I feel… safe and seen. And when I’m with Geto, I also have that feeling. And both of you are important to me.” And there it was. The words Gojo had been dreading to hear. Not that he didn’t understand. He did. He knew what it was like to have different people give you different things, but for him, it was hard to hear that you felt seen by someone else.

“Y/n,” he said softly, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. But his mind couldn’t help but flash to the thought of Geto touching you, of being with you in a way that Gojo couldn’t. He wanted to push those thoughts away. He had to. He was being the best friend you needed. “You’re not going to lose us, okay? Ever. Whatever happens, we’re still your friends. No matter what.”

But his mind was still reeling, and a small, selfish part of him wanted to say, Screw that. I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I want you to choose me. He couldn’t, though. He wouldn’t say it. Not yet. You met his gaze, your expression softening, but there was still that uncertainty there, lingering. Gojo could tell you were still processing everything. And that was fine. He would give you the time you needed, even if it was killing him inside.

But when you spoke again, your voice quieter, more tentative, Gojo felt his heart race, but this time, it wasn’t out of frustration. It was out of something else. “Thanks, Gojo. You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His chest tightened at your words, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. It wasn’t everything he wanted to hear, but it was something. He reached out, his hand resting on yours, his fingers curling around your hand gently. “Don’t mention it. I’ll always be here for you. I’m your best friend. That’s what best friends do.”

But deep down, there was still that selfish part of him that wanted more. That wanted to be the one you chose. And maybe, just maybe, he would get that chance. But for now, he could only wait.

Gojo: [leaning casually against your desk] So… when are you gonna realize I’m in love with you?

You: Oh, you’re in love? With who? Tell me! I’ll help you!

Gojo:

Gojo: [wheezing] No one, actually. I’m dead inside.

taglist: @pandabiene5115 @inthedarkshadows000

so like i saw this prompt somewhere on here about a reader reaching…. completion and the other saying “i know baby” and im currently longing for the time when I used to play this game all the time

Kaeya Alberich

The night air in Mondstadt is crisp, carrying the faint scent of dandelions and the distant hum of revelry from the city below. But here, within the quiet sanctuary of Kaeya’s room, the only sound that matters is the soft cadence of his voice.

It had started with a drink, just one. A quiet escape from the noise of the tavern, from the ever watchful eyes of the city. Kaeya had offered, his smirk playful, his voice dripping with charm.

“Stay a little longer tonight, won’t you?”

And you’d said yes, because how could you ever say no to him?

Now, the candlelight flickers, casting warm shadows along the walls, bathing the room in a golden glow. Kaeya leans against the edge of his bed, a glass of wine resting in his palm, swirling lazily as he watches you from beneath heavy lashes. His coat had long since been discarded, leaving him in that deep blue shirt, the top buttons undone, exposing of his collarbone.

“You always look so tense,” he murmurs, tilting his head. His voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s something else beneath it something softer. Something meant only for you. “You let everyone else see you so strong, so put together… but I wonder,” he sets the glass down with a soft clink, his gaze locking onto yours, “who do you fall apart for?”

The weight of his words settles deep in your chest, warm and heavy. Your fingers twitch against the fabric of your clothes, a quiet tell you know he doesn’t miss. There’s something thick in the air between you, something unspoken but understood.

Kaeya rises from his seat, slow and deliberate, his movements fluid like the wine in his glass. He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the coolness of his body against the warmth of your own. His gloved fingers reach up, ghosting over your jaw, tilting your chin up just enough to meet his gaze.

“Let me, just this once,” he breathes, his voice a whisper between you. His fingers brush against your skin, featherlight, as if testing, waiting for permission. “Let me see you unravel.”

And you do.

—

The room is warm, the scent of candle wax and wine lingering in the air. The flickering light casts shadows over Kaeya’s face as he hovers above you, his body flush against yours, pressing you into the soft mattress beneath him. The usual playfulness in his expression has melted into something deeper something raw.

His breath is uneven, his usual composure slipping with every desperate movement. His lips trace slow, open mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck, his gloved hands roaming over your body, mapping you like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough, hoarse with need.

Your breath hitches, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. He exhales a soft curse against your throat, his forehead pressing into the crook of your neck as he tries to steady himself, to hold on just a little longer. But the way you move beneath him, the way you whisper his name it’s undoing him.

Kaeya groans, a deep, broken sound, his grip tightening around you as he presses you impossibly closer. His body shudders, his breath ragged, his voice barely a whisper as he murmurs against your lips, “It’s okay… Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

And when you do, when pleasure overtakes you, leaving you trembling beneath him, Kaeya follows soon after. His breath stutters, his arms wrapping around you like he never wants to let go, his entire body shuddering against yours as he loses himself completely.

Even when the waves of pleasure fade, he doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away. He stays pressed against you, his heart hammering against your own, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin. His lips ghost over your temple, pressing soft, lingering kisses against your heated skin.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion and something softer something more vulnerable. “I know.”

The night is quiet save for the sound of your breathing, the distant hum of Mondstadt beyond the window. And in that moment, wrapped in Kaeya’s arms, you know neither of you is ready to let go just yet.

VERY SHORT VERY SELF INDULGENT

Veritas Ratio HSR X Reader

“Stubborn, Stubborn, Stubborn.”

masterlist

You’re apart of the crew and an aspiring scientist. Though focusing in the forensics field to help out on missions.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. You hunched over a cluttered desk inside Herta’s Space Station, scribbling notes that looked more like deciphered codes than legible science. The quiet hum of machinery served as a backdrop to your forced concentration, punctuated every so often by the sharp scratch of a pen.

Dr. Veritas Ratio sat a few feet away, posture rigid, eyes sharp beneath a veil of bangs, hand flying across the pages of his own leather bound book like a man possessed.

This wasn’t what you imagined when you signed up to “shadow the renowned Dr. Ratio for advanced forensic learning.” You wanted to expand your skills, help the crew better on field missions because for some god forsaken reason, every time you stepped foot on a new planet, you were the one knee deep in clues, bodies, and mysteries no one asked for. It only made sense to sharpen your mind where it counted. days in and Dr. Ratio had barely acknowledged you unless he was critiquing your logic like a middle school science project.

Still, you tried again.

“So,” you started, voice casual, “when you said the neural pathways respond to stimulation, were you implying synaptic frequency increases even without cognitive awareness, or?”

“I was referring,” he interrupted at lightning speed, “to the involuntary oscillation of signal transmissions under external influence, something any second year biologist could tell you. Your phrasing was inaccurate, misleading, and honestly bordering on theoretical idiocy.”

You blinked, stunned into silence not because you were offended, but because his words were fired off like bullets from a gatling gun. You couldn’t even keep up enough to be offended. Still, you smiled, brows raised. “Right… of course. That’s what I meant. Totally.”

He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the sarcasm. Just kept writing. You sighed, staring at your notes and trying to find the motivation to continue copying something down about tissue decomposition in altered gravity conditions. But your thoughts were elsewhere specifically: “The brain is a muscle, my ass,” you thought bitterly. “This man is a stick in the mud.”

You tried once more, adjusting your chair just enough to glance at him. “Hey, uh… Ratio?” He didn’t stop writing. “I just wanted to let you know it’s my last day here. The Express is taking off tonight.”

He paused. Pen hovered in midair. For the first time in hours, he turned to look at you. “Then I suppose this is farewell,” he said evenly. “Any mind still desperate to learn more is worth a modicum of effort.” You blinked. That actually sounded… almost like a compliment? “But you remain, unfortunately, idiotic.”

There it was.

You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped. “Thanks, I’ll take that as the most affectionate thing you’ve said all week.”

“There is no affection in scientific discourse,” he replied, already back to his book.

You exhaled hard through your nose. There’s no pleasing this man. Still, you gathered your things, slung your bag over your shoulder, and gave him a nod. “Appreciate the time. Really. Maybe next time, I’ll come back knowing enough to offend you less.”

Ratio didn’t look up. “Unlikely, but your optimism is statistically entertaining.”

You paused at the door and gave one last look over your shoulder. No goodbye. Just the steady scratch of pen on paper. Annoying. Insufferable. Condescending. You had plenty of normal conversations with Ruan Mei, Screwllum, even Herta who could be a little unhinged but at least talked like a human being. you couldn’t say you didn’t learn something. Even if you wanted to shove him into a simulation chamber and press “random.”

Sighing, you stepped out of the lab, muttering to yourself, “The man needs a personality transplant. Or at least a nap.” Time to go back to the Astral Express. Hopefully, without being called an idiot in five different academic dialects.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Dr. Veritas Ratio stood alone in the silence of Herta’s Space Station lab, the ambient hum of machinery now a mere background to his thoughts. The room still carried the faint trace of your presence a slightly skewed chair, a half empty data pad left untouched, a worn notebook you used with mismatched doodles and scientific scribbles alike. He stared at the door for longer than he intended after you had left.

“Hmph.” His voice echoed softly in the quiet room, as if irritated by his own lingering stillness.

With a sharp breath, he returned to his seat, flipping open the leather bound journal he had been writing in not his own research logs, but something far more… unwieldy.

A chronicle. An account. An observation. You. You, the girl who barged into his space several days ago claiming she was eager to “learn more about forensics” so she could stop playing amateur detective across the galaxy like some kind of self declared interstellar sleuth. The girl who stood there in front of him bright eyed, annoyingly persistent, armed with nothing but a notepad and a smile that dared him to reject her.

He should have said no. Really. He meant to.

Entry One:

She is insufferably stubborn.

From the moment she entered, she challenged my authority not with words, but with that relentless, aggravating optimism. It’s like trying to teach science to a golden retriever that insists on wagging its tail every time it gets a basic equation right.

She surrounds herself with the imbecile crew of the Astral Express each of them so charmingly flawed that one would need earplugs just to survive a conversation. She listens. She stares at equations like a brain dead dog. if puzzles are worth solving, and when she gets them wrong…

Ratio’s pen slowed for a second.

Entry Three:

I threw a book at her.

She botched a rudimentary breakdown of spatial decay honestly, I still don’t understand how someone confuses atomic diffusion rates with heat based deconstruction and I threw a book at her.

He tapped the end of the pen to the page.

She didn’t cry. Didn’t storm out. She laughed. Actually laughed. Rubbed the back of her head and said, “Should’ve known you’d have better aim than that,” before flipping back to her notes and reworking the entire equation.

Stubborn. Stubborn. Stubborn.

He underlined the word twice.

Entry Five:

She got something right today.

Not just right. Brilliant, actually. She identified a miscalculation in a gravitational bleed pattern I hadn’t even caught yet. I told her it was “adequate.” She beamed like I’d handed her a Nobel Prize.

Ratio exhaled slowly at the memory. There had been more moments like that. More times than he cared to admit where he’d look at her work and see genuine understanding growing like a slow, tenacious weed through cracked pavement.

She was undisciplined. A jumbled mess of deduction and instinct. But she was learning.

He flipped to the last few pages in the book, where neat bullet points were written in his precise hand. Not for himself. For her.

• You need to stop jumping to conclusions without sufficient data.

• Emotion clouds deduction. Maintain detachment until evidence is confirmed.

• Your spatial awareness is strong. Consider pursuing work in trajectory and motion based forensics.

• Your memory recall, while clumsy, is oddly adaptive. You seem to remember patterns more than facts use that.

• Stop doodling in the margins.

And then, written softer, smaller, like it embarrassed him:

• You are better than you think. Just… be better still.

He hadn’t meant to go into so much detail. It was just supposed to be notes. Brief, simple. A few guiding remarks she could use once she returned to playing Sherlock on alien planets. But the longer he spent around her, the more the book filled. He would’ve given it to her. That was the plan. Hand it off as a cold farewell and return to his own work, alone, uninterrupted.

But when she said she was leaving, a strange ache settled in his chest. He had closed the book instead. He told her she was idiotic. That was easier than saying anything else. He wasn’t built for sentiment.

But now, in the sterile quiet of the lab, he opened the book again and stared at the last empty page. His pen hovered for a moment before he wrote:

You were the most tolerable nuisance I’ve encountered.

He closed the book. Folded his arms. And sat there, in silence. Holding the only piece of you he could.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. The Astral Express had settled into its familiar rhythm a quiet lull between the catastrophe that just occurred. You sat in your room, sprawled on your back atop your bed, legs dangling off the side as a small packet of data chips and half doodled notes littered the floor beneath you. The lighting was dim, and soft music played in the background something March had been trying to get everyone into. Bubblegum pop something or other. You didn’t mind it.

Then, your terminal lit up with an incoming call.

Caller ID: Dr. Veritas Ratio

You blinked. Seriously? The last time you’d heard from Ratio was months ago, back when you’d finished your “training” with him at Herta’s Space Station. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t sent a single follow up. Hell, you figured he forgot you existed. Which was fine. He’d called you idiotic more times than you could count. You got the message.

So why the sudden contact? You leaned over, smacked the “Answer” button with your palm, and sat back again, letting the hologram flicker to life. The familiar sight of Ratio appeared sharply dressed, arms crossed, and already mid glare.

“Have all of you completely lost your minds?” he barked.

“Wow, no hello? You’ve really softened over the months,” you drawled, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a long yawn.

Ratio ignored the comment. “You brought it on board. A Stellaron. A living, breathing, ticking time bomb and you you let them install it into the crew roster like it’s a decorative lamp!”

“Not me,” you replied casually. “That was Himeko and Welt’s call. I was too busy teaching March how to tell the difference between a footprint and a crater.”

He leaned closer into the hologram, voice sharp as shattered glass. “And you didn’t stop them?”

You tilted your head, gaze flat. “Ratio, I’ve learned many things in my life. One of which is: you do not argue with Himeko unless you want to be questioning your own sexuality.”

“This is reckless. Irresponsible. Foolhardy. Welt Yang used to be logical.”

“He still is,” you said, picking at a thread in your blanket. “Realistically, this was the safest option.”

“Oh?” Ratio lifted a brow, sarcasm soaking every syllable. “Yes, why not keep the volatile Stellaron host onboard the most advanced dimensional train known to man? Surely the best place for a cosmic disaster seed is inside the space equivalent of a floating museum.”

“See? You do have a heart,” you said, smiling slightly. “You’re worried about us.”

“I’m worried about the structural integrity of your ship, and the illogical stupidity of a crew that includes people like well, like you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Ratio scowled. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

You rolled onto your side, cheek pressed to your pillow, gaze on the projection of his furious form pacing like a scientist on the edge of an aneurysm. “No, I am. I just also live on a train that is fully capable of going against the Antimatter Legion, hunted by robots, and now has an amnesiac walking stellar bomb with a winning smile and a personality March immediately adopted like a stray puppy. You’ll excuse me if I conserve my panic energy.”

Ratio paused, folding his arms. “You’ve grown bolder.”

“You called me idiotic for a week straight. I had to evolve or die.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, softly so softly you barely caught it he muttered

You blinked, eyebrows lifting. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Still. You would be wise to proceed with caution. The Stellaron may not act today or tomorrow, but entropy is inevitable. One misstep, and it could unravel every layer of existence you so casually nap on.”

You smiled lazily. “I missed your bedtime stories.”

“You are insufferable.”

“You called me.”

Ratio paused. For a flicker of a second, his expression shifted barely visible, like a crack in marble. Thoughtful. Frustrated. Maybe even… hesitant. “you have a brain. And I don’t like seeing it wasted.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “You’re tolerable when you’re being cautious.”

“And you’re tolerable when you’re not actively trying to kill me with a migraine.”

The hologram began to glitch slightly signal fading as the Express entered another sector.

Ratio’s voice cut through one last time before the line ended: “Just don’t get comfortable. You may not always have time to brace for the explosion.”

Then the screen blinked to black. You sat there, the weight of his words hanging in the room like smoke.

“…Still didn’t say goodbye,” you murmured, grabbing your tea and taking a slow sip. You weren’t worried.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Herta’s Space Station was bustling with its usual polite chaos researchers skittering around with datapads too big for their hands, drones zipping above heads, experiments sparking in sealed chambers. The scent of metal and burnt circuitry lingered faintly in the air. A strangely nostalgic aroma, really.

You had come here for one reason and one reason only: to visit Screwllum. The robotic genius had promised to show you a new forensic simulation model, one that could track theoretical blood spatter in zero gravity. You were deeply interested, and by “deeply interested,” you meant giddy like a child with a crime scene coloring book.

You weren’t expecting to see him. Not as you rounded the corner of the central archive, passing Herta’s projection arguing with itself, and almost bumped headfirst into a tall figure already ranting at a researcher over some miscalculation involving quantum probability flow.

“Dr. Ratio,” you breathed, blinking once.

He turned toward you slowly. You immediately put your hands over your mouth, gasped dramatically, and staggered back a step. If he gets to ghost you, why cant you have fun yourself?

“Veritas? Is it really you?” you cried, voice shaking like a widow in a play. “The universe said you were lost to the abyss of academia, never to be seen again! I we I waited so long!”

Ratio stared at you, expression unreadable but very much unimpressed. “You’re being absurd.”

“Absurdly in love,” you swooned, grabbing his arm with faux desperation. “I swore I’d wait, no matter how long the stars turned. You you arrogant bastard you came back.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” he replied flatly. “Ill have you know that if you even tried i would’ve answered. You were simply too busy pretending to be a detective on every rock you stumbled across.”

“not one letter. Not one call. Do you have any idea how I’ve suffered? Ive missed my stuck up asshole of a husband”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were messaging Screwllum memes less than twelve hours ago.”

You blinked. “Screwllum loves my memes. Don’t derail me trying to make you look like a bad husband.”

“I should’ve let you fail the entropy unit,” he muttered, brushing your hands off like you were a particularly annoying layer of dust.

You laughed, arms crossing over your chest. “Still as insufferable as ever, Ratio. You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

Ratio returned to his datapad. “If by ‘welcome’ you mean ‘tolerated,’ then yes. I remain consistent.”

There was a beat of silence. The usual static hum of the station pulsed around you. You tilted your head slightly, observing him not just as a former mentor or your favorite verbal sparring partner, but as someone you honestly missed.

You stepped a little closer, voice dropping. “Hey… could we catch up a bit?”

He paused. His fingers hovered over the datapad. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye.

“why”

You smiled. “Ok big guy is asking the questions, I suppose I just want to see how you’re doing.”

Ratio’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk. “I suppose… some minds are worth the occasional recalibration.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘yes’?”

“It’s my way of saying you’re still stubborn and prone to foolishness but slightly less irritating than most of the imbeciles I suffer daily.”

You beamed. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Ratio glanced away, resuming his work. “Don’t get sentimental.”

But you saw the way his posture shifted less tense, a fraction more open.

📜🪶𓍢ִ໋🀦✎ᝰ. Ratio’s quarters were exactly what you expected and somehow even more Ratio than you thought possible.

Minimalist, sterile, everything arranged with sharp symmetry almost clinical, like the man had tried to recreate a science lab in the shape of a bedroom. The lighting was dim, a soft overhead hue that neither strained the eyes nor dared to be comforting. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, but not a single one looked even slightly out of place. His desk had no dust, no loose wires, no snacks just data pads, models, papers arranged in brutal harmony. despite all the perfect order, there was something kind of… homey about it. Or maybe you were just losing your mind. Probably the latter.

“I’ll return shortly,” he said earlier, stepping out with a brief mention of fetching something from Screwllum or threatening Herta’s projection into silence you weren’t sure which. His voice was already vanishing down the hall as you nodded absently, too curious about seeing this inner sanctum of his to stop him.

Which is how you ended up alone in the room and your eyes landed on the book. You hadn’t seen it since your time as his reluctant partner slash student slash mental punching bag. Leather bound, its corners slightly worn, it sat there on the desk like it had been placed just for you to find it. An artifact of a past so recent it still itched under your skin. You told yourself to leave it alone. You didn’t. Fingers brushed the cover. You opened it.

The first few pages were filled with sharp, scathing commentary written in Ratio’s precise, aggressively legible handwriting. Your early days of working together where you barely kept up and made mistakes that, according to him, “required divine intervention to unsee.” You scoffed, flipping forward.

There were notes, not just about your blunders, but about what you’d done right. Diagrams you’d drawn that he’d annotated, not with insults, but improvement suggestions. Questions you’d asked that he’d praised though usually in the most begrudging tone imaginable.

You flipped further. Dates from after your training had ended appeared.

She let that walking disaster <Stelle> on board. Of course she did. Her loyalty to the crew is stronger than her self preservation. Idiotic.

…Though, if she’s the one monitoring it, perhaps there’s hope it won’t implode immediately.

Your brows lifted. Another entry, this time sloppier, less rigid:

Saw her solve a multi layer deduction test from Ruan Mei’s simulation. Beat the projection time by five minutes. Either she’s improving rapidly… or cheating. I doubt the latter. Annoying. Impressive.

And then:

You were the most tolerable nuisance I’ve encountered.

You stared at that line for a long time, blinking. Your heart gave the smallest traitorous flutter. Ratio? Writing that down? In his own personal notes? Voluntarily?

“Veritas Veritas Veritas,” you whispered, amused, letting the book rest gently on the desk again, “you’re so down bad and you don’t even know it.”

You glanced around the room with new eyes now. Not just a workspace. There were signs of you scattered in the margins things you’d said that he’d scribbled down verbatim, questions you’d asked, observations you’d made. There, in this sterile haven of knowledge, you existed. When the door slid open again with that same low mechanical hiss, you didn’t turn immediately. You kept your hands at your sides, innocent, as Ratio entered holding a datapad and a cup of something that definitely wasn’t coffee.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You moved things,” he said bluntly.

You turned, grinning. “I breathed in here. Hope that’s not too much.”

Ratio’s eyes zeroed in on the open book like a hawk spotting a wounded animal. The datapad in his hand made a dull thud as he dropped it to the desk beside you.

“You read it,” he said, voice low, clipped. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact delivered like an accusation.

You opened your mouth, but he was already moving, closing the book in one motion that was more violent than necessary. His eyes flicked to you, sharp with something between irritation and disbelief. “That book was for me. My documentation. My evaluations. Not for you to comb through like some sentimental schoolgirl with a crush.”

You just raised your hands a little in mock surrender. “Okay, first of all ow. Second, maybe don’t leave emotionally repressed love letters in plain sight if you don’t want them read.”

His scowl deepened. “You are not the center of my notes. You were a case study in irritating persistence.”

You smiled. “A tolerable nuisance, if I remember correctly.”

“I regret ever writing that.”

“You do not.”

Ratio looked like he was about to snap again, but your tone shifted before he could. A little more sincere this time. Less teasing.

“Look, before you combust into quantum dust or something, I’ve been doing the same thing. Kind of.”

That made him blink. His arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched.

You shrugged. “Whenever there was news. Whenever Screwllum or Herta mentioned something cool you did. Whenever you published something with Ruan Mei. I’d log it in a little virtual journal. Notes, quotes, observations. Even drew a diagram of your frustrated face once. It was very detailed.”

“You tracked my activity?” His voice was dry with disbelief.

“Kept tabs,” you corrected. “I mean, you did teach me how to observe patterns and record data. I thought it’d be fun to apply it to you.”

Ratio stared at you. Hard.

You grinned again, stepping closer now, just into his space, enough to make him instinctively stiffen. “So, if you like me so much, Veritas…” you tilted your head, voice dipping into a teasing lilt, “it doesn’t have to stay theoretical.”

The room went dead silent. Ratio’s eye twitched.

“I do not like you.”

You leaned back with a smug hum, hands slipping behind your back. “Sure. That’s why you wrote, ‘perhaps there’s hope it won’t implode immediately.’ About me and the crew.”

“That was in reference to the logistical risk of hosting a walking bomb, not an emotional attac—”

“You said impressive, Ratio.”

“I said annoying right before.”

You shrugged. “And still impressive.”

Ratio turned away from you, muttering curses under his breath in a tone too quiet to catch. But he didn’t tell you to leave. Didn’t shove you out or erase his notes or block access to his quarters. Instead, he sat, flipped open a new file on his datapad, and typed exactly three words

Emotional interference: persistent.

You laughed as you settled in across from him.

“Glad I’m still in your data set.”

˚₊✩‧₊ 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)