So Like I Saw This Prompt Somewhere On Here About A Reader Reaching…. Completion And The Other Saying

me tweaking out trying to find that one good fanfic

Red Haired Shanks X Reader

𓆉 𓆝 𓆡 “Red Tides and Restless Hearts”𓆉 𓆝 𓆡

So like, I know very little about this character other than I find him hot. So tiktok and youtube was my best friend while writing

masterlist

SYNOPSIS: You’ve never been one to settle, drifting from ship to ship, never truly belonging to any crew until you crossed paths with Red Haired Shanks and his band of misfits. For a time, you sailed alongside them, teasing, fighting, and even falling for the infamous captain himself. But your free spirit always called you elsewhere.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 You stand there, your fists clenched, your gaze unwavering as you stare at Shanks. The tension between the two of you is palpable, the salty sea breeze whipping through your hair. Shanks just grins at you, as if completely unfazed by the storm of emotions brewing in your chest. It’s been a long journey with this ragtag crew, but you’ve never quite gotten used to the way they tend to leave a mess in their wake, and Shanks, the infamous Red Haired Pirate, is no exception.

“I don’t care if you’re a pirate bigshot, Shanks,” you growl, every muscle in your body screaming for action. “You let a kid eat the Devil Fruit? What were you thinking?”

His grin doesn’t falter, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You know how it is,” he says, leaning back against the mast of his ship. “Luffy’s got a spirit that just can’t be ignored. Besides, I didn’t think the kid would be so… special.”

The name Luffy hits you like a punch to the gut. You’ve seen the kid his boundless energy, his infectious smile, and that wild determination in his eyes. But this? This is a different side of him, one that makes your stomach churn. You had always been the type to keep moving, drifting between ships, never really settling in one place for too long. But the sight of Luffy, innocent and full of dreams, awakening a maternal instinct inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Shanks,” you mutter, the anger shifting into something more complex. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. He’s just a kid, and now he’s tied to something he doesn’t fully understand.”

Shanks raises an eyebrow, his smile softening just a bit. “I’ve seen a lot of people with dreams, and Luffy’s got one that burns brighter than most. Maybe he’s got something special in him. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t screw up.”

Your eyes narrow. This was the same man who could stand there and laugh, without a care in the world, even when the weight of what he did sank into you like a stone. But as your gaze flickers back to Luffy, you see it the spark that Shanks was talking about. The boy was destined for something great. And if no one else would look after him, then damn it, you would.

A deep breath escapes your lips, and you take a step back from Shanks, shaking your head. “I’m not going to let him end up like you, Shanks. He deserves better.”

Shanks chuckles, crossing his arms. “I think he’s got more heart than any of us, don’t you? Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” you warn him, but there’s a soft determination in your voice. Your ship’s already waiting to sail, but something about Luffy keeps you grounded, and just for a moment, you feel like you’ve found a new direction one that involves more than just drifting.

Shanks watches you carefully, but the playful glint in his eye is still there. “Just don’t be too hard on him, okay? He’s got a good heart. Trust me on that one.”

You give him a final glance, not a single ounce of backing down in your demeanor. “We’ll see.”

Then, you turn, heading toward Luffy. Maybe it’s time to stop running from something and take a stand for once.

You sprint toward Luffy, the instinct to protect him overwhelming you. Your heart races as you close the distance, and before he can even blink, you scoop him up in the biggest, tightest hug he’s ever felt in his life. The kid squeals in surprise, his arms flailing a bit, but you’re not letting go.

“You better be good, Luffy!” you say, your voice full of both care and frustration. “You’re just a kid! Don’t go doing anything crazy, okay? Promise me!”

Luffy’s face lights up, his grin as wide as ever despite being squeezed out of breath. “I promise!” he says, his voice muffled as he struggles to wriggle free.

You pause, holding him for just a moment longer, then, without warning, your hand snaps forward. Wham! You smack him right on the back of his head, making him let out a small “Ow!”

“That’s for eating the Devil Fruit, you little idiot,” you mutter, your tone now a mix of exasperation and affection. “I swear, if you end up turning into some sort of monster because of this, I’m holding you responsible!”

Luffy rubs the back of his head, unfazed and still grinning. “I’ll be fine! I’m gonna be the Pirate King!”

You sigh, ruffling his hair, though you can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you will. But don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you.”

With one last pat on his head, you set him back down, looking into his eyes. “Now be careful, alright? Stay out of trouble, and if you need me, you know where to find me.”

Turning away, you head back toward Shanks’ ship. As you board, you glance over your shoulder, making sure Luffy’s still standing there, eyes wide, watching you.

Shanks calls over from the deck with a smirk, “Did you give him a good talk?”

You give him a sharp look. “He needed it. Someone’s gotta keep him in line.”

Shanks laughs, a hearty sound that echoes across the dock. “Well, I think that kid’s gonna be just fine.”

You roll your eyes but feel a strange warmth in your chest. Despite everything, maybe you’d just found something worth sticking around for.

As the ship sets sail, the sound of the waves lapping against the hull and the wind in your hair feels like the start of another adventure. You take a deep swig from your drink, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your chest. It’s a moment of calm before everything inevitably gets chaotic again.

You walk over to Shanks, who’s leaning against the mast with that signature grin of his. He notices you coming, flashing you that smile that’s almost too charming for its own good.

You plop down beside him, your back against the wood of the ship, and you let out a contented sigh. The drink in your hand sways slightly as you raise it to your lips again, then set it down.

“Shanks,” you start, your tone a bit too serious for the carefree pirate you’ve come to know, “I think I finally figured it out.”

His smile only widens, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh? What’s that?”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing in playful disbelief. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His reaction is immediate: he bursts out laughing, his deep chuckles booming in the quiet of the open sea. “Oh, really now?” he teases, looking over at you with that infuriatingly perfect smile. “I’m flattered.”

You smirk, taking another sip from your drink. “Yeah, you’re amazing, Shanks. You’ve got this whole thing figured out, huh? Everyone loves you, you’ve got the world at your feet, but” You pause for a moment, letting the gravity of what you’re about to say sink in. “One day, you’re gonna be in deep waters, and no one’s gonna be able to pull you out.”

The playfulness in your voice is still there, but there’s an edge of truth to it. You watch Shanks carefully, wondering if he’ll actually take your words seriously for once.

Instead, he just chuckles again, slinging an arm around your shoulder casually, his grin never leaving his face. “You think I don’t know that?” he says, his voice warm and carefree. “But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? No one ever gets out of deep waters, whether they want to or not.”

You glance at him, not sure if you’re more frustrated by his lack of seriousness or relieved that he wasn’t taking it as a threat. Maybe he wasn’t as reckless as he seemed or maybe he just knew something you didn’t.

“perchance,” you reply, a smile creeping up despite yourself. “But don’t get too comfortable. One day, you’ll need someone to drag your ass out.”

Shanks raises his drink to you, his smile never wavering. “I’ll take my chances.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back against the ship with him. Despite the mystery in his words, you can’t help but admire his unwavering confidence. One thing was for sure: Shanks was the kind of man who didn’t fear deep waters.

As the wind whips through your hair, Shanks suddenly pulls you close, his arm wrapping around your shoulders with surprising force. Before you can protest, his hands squish your face in a teasing, almost obnoxious manner, pushing your cheeks together until you’re left looking ridiculous.

“Jeez, for a pirate, you sure have a problem with living for adventure,” he says with a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with that familiar teasing glint. He holds you there for a moment, making it impossible to escape his playful hold.

You let out a dramatic, exaggerated groan, clearly unimpressed by the way he’s treating you. “Are you seriously calling me out for not living for adventure when you’re the one who’s been causing messes across the seas for years? All im wanting is to minimize that” You squint at him, trying to free your face from his grip. “Who’s the one who can’t sit still, huh? The great pirate, Shanks, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

He laughs, letting go of your face but keeping his arm around you, clearly amused by your attempt to resist him. “I see you’ve got quite the sharp tongue, as always.”

With a playful shove, you push him back slightly, still grinning. “Yeah, well, you’re a walking contradiction, Shanks. I swear, you are an amazing pirate but you sure don’t act like it half the time.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you should spend less time being a happy go lucky guy and more time being a serious pirate.”

Shanks shrugs nonchalantly, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m serious enough when it counts. Besides, you’d be bored without me.”

For a moment, there’s a comfortable silence between the two of you, the sound of the waves filling the space. Then, out of nowhere, his expression softens slightly, his usual teasing demeanor disappearing for a brief moment of seriousness.

“The kid will be fine,” Shanks says quietly, his voice devoid of the usual joking tone. It’s not a statement of doubt or uncertainty, but one of quiet assurance.

You blink at him, momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift in his attitude. You’ve never heard him speak so seriously about anything, especially when it comes to Luffy.

You look at him for a long moment, trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words. Shanks may act carefree, but there’s a weight behind his gaze that you can’t ignore. “You really believe that?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Shanks meets your gaze, his smile returning but with an odd softness to it. “I do. Luffy’s got a strength in him that you can’t just teach. It’s in his blood. He’ll find his way, just like I did.”

You nod, the feeling of protectiveness over Luffy tightening in your chest, but you can’t help but feel a little more reassured by Shanks’ words. Maybe, just maybe, the kid really would be alright.

Before you can fully process his serious words, Shanks flashes that mischievous grin of his again, and without warning, he squishes your cheeks once more this time, more playfully than before. But the next thing you know, he leans in, and in a swift movement, presses his lips against yours.

The world seems to pause for a split second, and your eyes widen in surprise. The taste of alcohol still lingers on his lips, but there’s something deeper in the kiss a playful but intense spark that makes your heart race in a way you didn’t expect. It’s a brief kiss, just long enough to leave you reeling, your mind struggling to catch up to the moment.

Shanks pulls away, his eyes twinkling as he watches your stunned expression. “What’s the matter? You’re usually quick with a comeback,” he teases, clearly enjoying your reaction.

The crew members, who had been going about their business on the ship, seem to freeze in place as the scene unfolds before them. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence as they take in what just happened.

Then, one of the crew members, a burly guy with a thick beard, stumbles back, wide eyed. “Oi, did that just happen? Shanks actually did that?”

Another crew member, a younger man with a nervous laugh, scratches his head. “I I thought what they had was a joke! Like, one of those really weird jokes, y’know?”

A third, a tired looking yassop, raises an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by the spectacle, but with an amused smirk playing at her lips. “Well, if it wasn’t a joke, I guess the captain’s finally making his move.”

Shanks casually drapes an arm around you, the cocky grin never leaving his face as he glances at his crew. “What’s the matter, guys? Never seen a pirate kiss someone before?” His voice is light and teasing, but there’s a touch of seriousness in it that only a few people would catch.

You, still trying to process the sudden shift in the air, slap his arm away lightly, turning your face away to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, but despite your attempt to seem unaffected, your voice betrays a small, flustered tremor.

The crew, seeing the two of you interacting, exchanges knowing looks, but no one dares to push it further. They’ve seen enough of Shanks’ antics to know when to let him have his fun.

The bearded crew member grins, elbowing his mate next to him. “Looks like someone finally got to the captain.”

Another crew member shakes his head with a laugh, muttering, “Only Shanks could pull something like that off without it being completely out of left field.”

Shanks, for his part, looks completely unfazed by the crew’s reactions. He looks back at you with that same, unshakable grin. “C’mon, don’t act like you didn’t like it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

You roll your eyes, trying to push down the strange fluttering in your chest. “You’re impossible,” you retort, but there’s a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself.

The crew continues to buzz with quiet excitement, but they all know better than to say too much. After all, with Shanks, you never quite knew what to expect next.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

A few weeks had passed since that day, and while the memory of Shanks’ surprising kiss still lingered in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the itch for something new. The sea, vast and untamed, was always calling to you its promise of freedom and adventure tugging at your very core. It was a familiar feeling, the urge to jump on a different ship, to discover unknown lands, to experience the world from a new perspective. It was what you did best.

You stand at the edge of the Red Haired Pirates’ ship, watching the sun dip low on the horizon. The orange and pink hues of the sky cast a warm glow over the sea, and the sound of the waves crashing against the ship’s hull almost seems like a song to your soul.

You’ve had fun with Shanks and his crew more fun than you thought you would, honestly but the pull of adventure is far stronger than any comfort you’ve found here. The thought of staying with them forever, as much as you care about them, feels like a chain you’re not willing to wear. The world out there is just too big, too full of possibilities.

As you turn to head below deck to grab your things, you hear footsteps behind you. Shanks, ever the observant one, approaches with that same laid back swagger of his, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

“You’re leaving, huh?” he says, the tone of his voice making it clear he already knows. It’s not a question it’s a statement, the kind only someone who knows you well can make.

You pause, your hand resting on the ship’s railing as you turn to face him. “Yeah. It’s time to keep moving. There’s more out there, Shanks, and I can’t just sit still.”

He gives you a soft smile, the same grin he always wears, but there’s something more contemplative in it now. “I figured. You’ve got that look about you. The one that says you’re ready to chase after something new.”

You nod, a small sigh escaping your lips. “I just… I need to see more of the world. I’ve had my fill of this ship, for now. I’m not like you I can’t be tied down, no matter how much fun I’m having.”

Shanks chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve always been like this, huh? Never content with just one place, one thing. But I get it. You’ve got that fire in you.” He steps closer, his smile never fading. “But don’t think you can run from me forever. The sea’s big, but not that big.”

You laugh, the sound light and carefree despite the underlying emotions you’re trying to bury. “You won’t be rid of me that easily. I’ll be around. Just not here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” he says with a wink. “But you better make sure to come back one day. Or else I’ll come find you myself.”

You roll your eyes at his usual overconfidence. “Sure, sure. I’ll look forward to it.”

Shanks’s gaze softens for a moment, his expression becoming more serious than you’ve seen it in a while. “Just… don’t get yourself into too much trouble out there, alright? You’re not invincible, you know.”

You give him a teasing smile, knowing exactly what he’s trying to say. “You’ve been hanging around me too long if you think I’m the type to get into trouble.”

“Maybe,” he replies with a grin. “But I still worry about you.”

The sudden warmth in his voice catches you off guard. For a brief moment, you’re struck by how much you’ve come to care for the crew, for him even though you’re still not one to settle. You appreciate the concern, even if you know it won’t stop you.

“Don’t worry, Shanks,” you say, your voice a little quieter now. “I’ve got this. I’m just… doing what I’ve always done. Searching.”

“I thought we were having fun. You sure you’re not just bored of us?” He goes and grabs your hand You tense for a moment, trying to hide the way his touch makes your pulse quicken. You bite your lip, the playful spark in your eyes hiding the truth you don’t want to admit. “I’m not bored,” you reply coolly, though your voice betrays a slight edge, “I just… need to keep moving. That’s all.”

Shanks chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Is that so? Because I think you’re just trying to run away from something. Or someone.”

You try to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding you close as he shifts so he’s facing you now. His lips are dangerously close, and you can feel the playful challenge in his gaze. “You’re the one who can’t sit still,” you murmur, your lips brushing his slightly as you speak.

Before you can even process it, Shanks pulls you toward him, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss that makes your mind short circuit. It’s intense, almost desperate like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he doesn’t act now. His hand move to cup your face, the kiss deepening, his tongue gently coaxing yours to respond.

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you can’t decide whether you want to break free or give into the pull of him. But the more he kisses you, the more the walls around your heart crack, the uncertainty vanishing in the heat of the moment.

“Thought you were just going to walk away from me,” Shanks murmurs against your lips, his grin mischievous as he pulls back just slightly to catch your breath. “Guess I’m not that easy to forget, huh?”

The teasing lilt in his voice fuels the fire inside you, making your chest tighten. You bite back the urge to tell him how wrong he is, how hard it is to let go of someone who’s so… Shanks. But instead, you reach up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for another kiss, this time harder, more demanding. There’s no holding back now no teasing, no banter. Just raw, unfiltered desire.

The kiss grows more urgent, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you even closer, as if trying to make you stay without a word. You let your body respond to his, the heat between you two building as if there was no time left to waste.

When you pull away, breathless and flushed, your heart racing, you both stand there for a moment, unable to say anything. The world seems to have slowed down, the noise of the crew and the sea a distant hum.

Shanks, ever the tease, is the first to break the silence, his grin never fading. “Told you you’d get bored of running eventually,” he says with a wink, the smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “Guess you’ve found something better to do.”

Before you can even process what just happened, Shanks doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. With a mischievous glint in his eyes and that confident smirk still plastered across his face, he wraps his arm around your waist, effortlessly pulling you along with him. You barely have time to react before he’s leading you towards his quarters.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” he teases, his voice playful but laced with an intensity you can’t quite ignore. “You think you can just walk away after that?”

You try to pull away, but his grip only tightens. “Shanks, stop! I need to leave,” you protest, though the words come out weaker than you intend. The closer you get to his quarters, the more your resolve crumbles under the weight of his touch.

He grins down at you, unbothered by your protests, clearly enjoying the way you’re squirming. “Oh, I don’t think so. You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you,” he says with a wink, and before you can even muster a response, he opens the door to his quarters, pulling you inside.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and suddenly the room feels smaller, more intimate, as if the world outside doesn’t matter anymore. The space is dimly lit, with the scent of wood and the salty air of the sea lingering in the air. It’s a familiar, comfortable like the man himself.

You turn to face him, trying to muster some defiance, but the look in his eyes is too consuming. “Shanks, I’m serious. I don’t have time for”

Before you can finish, he’s right there, his hand brushing the side of your face, his touch almost gentle now. “I know you don’t have time,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost like he’s savoring the moment. “But you’ll make time for this. Just for a little while longer.”

His words send a shiver down your spine. You’ve always known how easily he could change the mood, how he could draw you in with just a few words, a touch. But now, the air between you feels heavier, charged with something deeper than just playful teasing.

Shanks steps closer, closing the distance between you. “I don’t want you to go just yet. I’m not ready to let you leave.”

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, this time slower, more deliberate. The kiss deepens, and your body responds before your mind can even catch up. His hands move to your back, pulling you in closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours as the kiss becomes more urgent, more desperate. You can feel the tension building, the desire you both tried to ignore now taking over everything else.

You push back for a moment, your hands on his chest, breathing heavily. “Shanks, I”

He silences you with another kiss, this one longer, filled with an intensity that leaves you breathless. The world outside, the ship, your plans to leave they all seem so far away now. It’s just you and him, wrapped up in this moment that you never quite expected.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Shanks whispers against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “Not yet.”

The room around you feels like it’s shrinking, as if time itself is slowing, stretching, just for the two of you. There’s no escape now, not from him, not from the pull of something more than just fleeting attraction. Something deeper, something you weren’t quite ready for, but something that feels impossible to deny.

And for now, you let yourself give in to it, the need to feel alive, to be consumed by the feeling of his touch. The adventure, the unknown, the pull of the sea… it’s all still there, but in this moment, you’ve found something else something you didn’t expect, but maybe, just maybe, something you needed more than you realized.

His ship may rock in the distance, but inside, the world seems to have paused, the only sound being the rhythm of your breathing as Shanks stands in front of you.

You tilt your head back, glancing up at him, your voice playful but laced with desire. “You know, it feels weird not being able to grab you properly with just one arm,” you tease, a mischievous smile curling your lips as you pull him closer to you, feeling his warmth press against yours.

Shanks raises an eyebrow, that familiar grin of his creeping back into place. “Oh?” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “You think that’s going to stop me?” His fingers slide along your waist, his touch deliberate, like he’s testing the way your body reacts to his proximity.

You feel your heart race as his hands drift downward, the heat between you rising, yet you can’t help but laugh lightly, despite the tension. “I guess it’s just not as satisfying,” you tease, your fingers lightly tracing the outline of his chest. “Can’t quite get a proper grip.”

His gaze darkens slightly, his lips curling into a sly smile. He steps forward, closing the gap, so close now that you can feel his breath on your neck. His voice, still playful, drops to a more sensual tone. “Trust me, darling,” he whispers, his words like a caress. “One arm or not, I can make you feel good.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you in fully, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that feels like an invitation, a promise. His other arm, strong and free, wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the tension in his body, his muscles coiling with desire as he deepens the kiss, urging you to surrender.

You try to pull back, but the heat of him is overwhelming, the way he holds you like he’s not going to let go. “You sure?” you joke again, your lips brushing against his as your hands wander to his back, where you feel the muscles tighten under your fingertips. “I don’t know if one arm is going to cut it for what I want.”

Shanks chuckles darkly against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. “I’m more than capable,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky now, full of that intoxicating confidence. “You’ll see. I’ll make sure you feel every inch of it.”

With a quick motion, he pushes you back against the edge of his bed, your body feeling the soft thud of the mattress behind you as he hovers over you. His lips trace a path down your jaw, to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His hand slides under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, sending shivers through your body.

“You’re going to feel things you didn’t even know you wanted,” Shanks murmurs, his lips now dangerously close to yours, and you feel every word in the pit of your stomach. His kiss is soft at first, teasing, but it quickly escalates, the hunger between you both undeniable. “I told you I could make you feel good. Now let me show you.”

Your body responds almost instinctively, the teasing, playful banter between you both shifting into something deeper, something more intimate. His arm that’s free grips you tightly, anchoring you as if he intends to keep you right here, right with him. You can feel the pulse of his desire, the way he pulls you closer, and there’s no escape. No desire to run away from this pull that’s magnetic and impossible to resist.

Shanks moves over you, kissing you again, this time deeper, as if trying to convey all of his intentions in that one kiss. You feel it in every inch of your skin the promise, the thrill, the desire to see this through. And as his lips move from your mouth to your neck, his touch intensifies, making you gasp as your body reacts to his every movement.

“You like that, huh?” he mutters against your skin, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess I was right. I don’t need two arms to make you feel good.”

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

The Marineford battlefield is a storm of terror, with the clash of steel, the roar of flames, and the screams of combatants filling the air. Yet, amidst the turmoil, Shanks stands unwavering, his gaze fixed ahead. His crew moves with precision, navigating the madness of the war, his usual playful demeanor replaced with the weight of responsibility as he commands his crew to continue pushing forward.

As his eyes scan the battlefield, they momentarily catch on a familiar face, standing amidst the battle. You. The sight of you, despite the distance, causes a strange stir deep within him. His heart skips, the remnants of old memories resurfacing like waves crashing on a shore.

For a split second, time seems to slow. The roar of the battlefield dims, and all he sees is you standing on the opposite side, your figure cut sharply against the backdrop of battle. Buggy’s crew flanking you, but your stance, your expression, it’s unmistakably you.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t call out. His eyes narrow, a slight furrow on his brow, but the momentary flicker of surprise fades quickly into the calm, collected gaze of a captain. His focus returns to the task at hand. He’s here for a reason there’s a war raging, and the lives of many are at stake. His crew needs him, the fight is urgent, and there’s no time for distractions. Not now.

Still, in the back of his mind, your image lingers. A strange tug of longing gnaws at him, but he pushes it down, locking it away with the rest of the emotions that threaten to cloud his judgment.

Later, he thinks to himself. Once this is over.

But he doesn’t look away, not entirely. His gaze flits back to you one more time, the flicker of a smile almost crossing his face. He’s not surprised to see you he would’ve known you’d be here, somewhere in this madness, but there’s something in the way you carry yourself that pulls at him, a reminder of the connection that was left behind.

He doesn’t call out to you. He doesn’t wave. Instead, he turns back to the battle, his sword in hand, his crew around him.

For now, there are more pressing matters. But he can’t quite shake the thought of you, distant and still, from across the war.

The battlefield is a hellstorm of clashing wills, where the strongest forces in the world collide in a desperate struggle. The air is thick with the scent of blood, gunpowder, and salt from the sea so much destruction, so much disaster . And yet, amidst it all, Shanks finds himself momentarily distracted.

His grip tightens on the hilt of Gryphon, his breath steady despite the turmoil around him. His crew moves seamlessly, cutting through the battlefield with precision, but his gaze lingers on you for just a moment longer.

The flickering fires cast an eerie glow over your figure, and despite the distance, he can still make out the subtle tension in your stance. You’re alert, battle ready, but you’re not fighting not yet. Buggy’s crew swarms around you, their garish colors clashing against the blood streaked battlefield, and he can’t help but wonder why are you with them?

It’s been years. Since the last time he saw you, since you stood at his side. Back then, your presence was a constant in his life, a piece of his world that he never thought he’d lose. But time, as it always does, had pulled you both onto different tides, leading you to opposite ends of the world.

And now, here you are.

His chest tightens, though his face betrays nothing. There’s no time to indulge in the past. Not here. Not now.

Benn notices the brief pause in his captain’s movements, the barely perceptible shift in his gaze. “Shanks,” he calls, voice low but knowing. A reminder.

Shanks exhales softly, his expression smoothing into something unreadable. He gives a small nod. “I know,” he says. His crew needs him. The war still rages, and he has a duty to fulfill.

But even as he turns away, even as he focuses back on the battle at hand, he can’t help but steal one last glance in your direction.

Later.

He’ll find you later.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

The war had finally reached its bitter conclusion. The bloodshed, the cries of combatants it was all coming to an end, leaving nothing but destruction and silence in its wake. The Marineford battlefield was now littered with fallen warriors, allies, and enemies alike, their fates sealed under the weight of the war.

You stood beside Buggy, hands on your hips, glaring at him with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. The battle had subsided for the moment, but Buggy, as always, managed to keep up his ridiculous antics.

“Buggy, what the hell were you thinking?” you snapped, your frustration bubbling over after hours of his nonsensical decisions during the battle. He had done more harm than good at times, running headlong into danger with his usual lack of care.

Buggy, of course, was completely unfazed, grinning widely as ever. “What do you mean, huh? I was a total genius! I took down some Marines, didn’t I?” He gave a ridiculous gesture as if he had just performed the most incredible feat in the world, his rubber arms flailing around in a display of triumph.

“By accident, Buggy!” you retort, throwing your hands up in the air. “You somehow managed to make things worse, and I’m the one left cleaning up your mess!”

He chuckles, oblivious to the irritation that practically radiates from you. “Oh, you love me for it, come on now,” he says with a wink, completely missing the point.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, grumbling under your breath. “I should’ve just stayed with Shanks,” you mutter.

As if summoned by your words, a sudden, familiar presence looms at the edge of the battlefield. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. The aura of familiarity, that ever present feeling of a connection you couldn’t quite break, fills the air. The distinctive, confident gait of the Red Hair Pirates is unmistakable.

Shanks steps forward into the clearing, his crew behind him, the calm after the storm settling over him like a cloak. His eyes immediately scan the area, and they land on you. The moment his gaze meets yours, there’s a brief, almost imperceptible shift in his expression a flicker of recognition, of longing, of something unspoken. It’s there, but fleeting.

Buggy notices Shanks’s arrival before you do and, of course, reacts in his usual obnoxious way. “Oh, look who it is, the big shot himself!” Buggy says, hands on his hips, a grin spreading across his face. “You think you can come here and just waltz in after all this time, huh?”

Shanks smirks at Buggy, unfazed by his antics, before his attention shifts to you. His smile softens, and there’s an almost imperceptible shift in his eyes a familiarity that you both know all too well. He takes a step toward you, the movement so subtle, so calculated, that it feels as though time itself has momentarily stopped.

You feel the pull, the weight of everything that had happened between you both. The quiet ache of his absence, the unresolved feelings that were left behind when you had parted ways. But the war is over now, the dust settling, and there’s nothing but you and him left in the silence of it all.

“You’re still here, huh?” Shanks asks, his voice softer than you expect, the teasing tone replaced with something more sincere. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, yet comforting all the same.

Buggy’s voice cuts through the tension, as always, loud and obnoxious. “What, you think you’re gonna take her away now, Shanks?” He throws his hands in the air, mocking the idea. “Not after all I’ve been through with her! I’m the one who actually fought beside her!”

Shanks doesn’t flinch at Buggy’s outburst. Instead, he gives you a look an almost knowing look, as if he’s waiting for you to make the next move. His eyes flick back to Buggy for a moment, but there’s no real hostility there. Just that old, familiar smirk, the one that always made you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

“I don’t know, Buggy,” Shanks says, his voice playful yet carrying a subtle weight. “Maybe she’s just tired of your nonsense.”

Buggy throws his hands up in mock indignation, but before he can continue his argument, you step in between the two of them, shaking your head. “Enough, you two. This isn’t the time.”

Shanks’s gaze shifts back to you, a brief flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression. Then, that trademark grin creeps back onto his face, like it never left. “I’ll let you handle him, then,” he says, his voice teasing. “But you know… I’d prefer it if you were with me, and not him.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Is that so?” you reply, your voice light but carrying the weight of everything unsaid. “I think I can make my own decisions.”

Shanks doesn’t push further. Instead, he simply steps closer, his hand brushing against yours, a fleeting touch but one that sends a spark through you. “I’m sure you can,” he says softly. “But maybe, just maybe, you’d reconsider joining us again… at least for a while.”

And in the wake of the war’s aftermath, as the world begins to rebuild itself, the space between you and Shanks feels smaller. What happens next? That’s still up in the air. But for now, the tension between you both is thick, palpable, and the future is unwritten.

somehow, amid it all, you found yourself standing in front of Shanks again.

He looked the same too much the same, honestly. Like war and time had barely touched him, like he could still laugh just as easily as he did years ago, like he could still read you like an open book without even trying. His gaze held that same unreadable depth, his presence as steady as ever.

“its been so long” he said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “Same to you.”

There was a pause, the weight of old memories hanging between you both, before

“OI, OI, OI, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

Both of you turned your heads in sync, just in time to see Buggy stomping toward you, flailing his arms wildly. His face was red though whether from rage or exhaustion, it was hard to tell and he looked offended on a personal level.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, TALKING TO THAT GUY?” Buggy jabbed a finger at Shanks like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “Have you been brainwashed?! Threatened?! Are you suffering from some tragic, incredibly inconvenient amnesia?! Because there’s no way in hell you’d actually want to stand around talking to this bastard!”

You exhaled through your nose, already feeling a headache forming.

Shanks, on the other hand, just looked amused.

“You really haven’t changed, huh, Buggy?” he said, crossing his arms.

Buggy’s rage intensified. “DON’T SAY MY NAME SO CASUALLY, YOU ONE ARMED FREAK!” He turned to you, wildly gesturing between the two of you. “Seriously, what is this?! Do I need to remind you that this guy is IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST?!”

“You’re just mad youre not getting any attention” Shanks teased.

“THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS! AND ALSO, YES IT DOES, BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”

You let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Buggy.”

“WHAT?”

“Shut up.”

Buggy made an offended wheezing noise, clutching his chest as if you had personally stabbed him. “[NAME]?! After everything we’ve been through?! After I let you stay on my ship?!”

“You say that like I didn’t pay for my place there.”

“Details!”

Shanks snorted. “You’ve been sailing with Buggy? That explains a lot.”

“OI, WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?!” Buggy yelled, whirling back on him. “Listen, I don’t care what unfinished romantic subplot you two think you’re having right now, but I refuse to stand by and watch this disaster unfold!”

You blinked. “Romantic what?”

Shanks let out a full laugh at that, shaking his head. “You really are dramatic, Buggy.”

“DRAMATIC?! DRAMATIC?! I AM THE ONLY SANE ONE HERE!”

You and Shanks exchanged glances.

Neither of you spoke.

Buggy’s eye twitched violently. “I hate both of you.”

“You’ll get over it,” Shanks said cheerfully.

Buggy let out a scream of rage, throwing his arms up in frustration before storming off, grumbling loudly about betrayal, stupidity, and how he was surrounded by absolute morons.

You and Shanks watched him go.

“…So,” you said after a moment, glancing back at Shanks. “Where were we?”

Shanks chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Something about not expecting to see each other.”

You hummed. “Right. Well. I still don’t know how I feel about it.”

Shanks’ grin softened just a little, something unreadable in his gaze. “Then I guess we’ll have to figure that out.”

“Guess we will.”

And with Buggy’s distant ranting still filling the background, the two of you stood there, caught between the past and whatever came next.

The tension in the air feels thick, almost suffocating, as Shanks steps closer to you. The battlefield around you is silent for a moment, the echoes of the war finally dying down. The weight of everything you’ve both been through, everything that’s been left unsaid, seems to hang heavy between you.

Shanks lets out a soft laugh, his eyes warm, but there’s a hint of something else there, something more vulnerable that catches you off guard. “Idiot girl,” he mutters, though it’s far from cruel. It’s almost affectionate. Before you can even respond, he pulls his coat from his shoulders and wraps it around you, his movements gentle but firm. His hand lingers on the edge of the fabric, like he’s trying to pull you closer without speaking a word.

“Both of us are getting too old for this,” Shanks says quietly, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Chasing after adventures, running from one place to the next, never stopping long enough to let things settle.” His smile fades, the usual mischievous glint replaced by a more solemn expression. “We’re past the point of just being carefree pirates, you know?”

The weight of his words hits you harder than expected. A part of you wants to laugh it off, to keep the teasing banter going as it always has. But it’s different now. The battle and the aftermath are finally sinking in, and so is the truth behind Shanks’s words. You’re not the same people you were when you first met, and neither is he. Time has passed, and you’ve both been through so much. The thought of that, of change, of all that you’ve lost, sends a wave of emotion crashing over you.

You feel the familiar sting of tears pricking at your eyes, and before you can even stop yourself, a few escape, trailing down your cheeks. It’s been so long since you let yourself feel this much, to let the emotions rise to the surface, and it feels raw, painful.

But even through the tears, you can’t help yourself. You turn your face toward him with a tearful smirk, your voice a little shaky but still laced with that teasing tone he’s come to expect from you.

“Getting old, huh?” you say, your voice cracking just slightly. “You, the great Shanks, admitting it? You’ve been chasing after adventure for so long… but now that it’s caught up to you, you’re ready to stop?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just watches you with that familiar gaze. His expression softens, his eyes filled with something unspoken. Then, he pulls you a little closer, the warmth of his coat enveloping you.

“Yeah, well i dont know about stopping” he says quietly, his hand reaching to gently brush away a tear from your cheek. “Though I guess we both are. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still live, right? Even if things change, we’re still us.”

You feel the weight of his words, and it stirs something deep inside you. There’s so much history between the two of you, so much shared, so much left behind. And as you stand there, in the aftermath of the battle, wrapped in his coat, you realize that maybe this this is what really matters.

With a shaky laugh, you lean your head against his chest, your voice thick with emotion but still carrying that familiar playful edge. “Idiot,” you whisper, your words barely audible, but the affection in them is clear. “You’ve always been full of crap, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Shanks chuckles softly, his hand resting on your back as he holds you close. “Yeah, well, you’re an idiot too.” His tone is light, but there’s a sincerity there that makes your heart ache.

You both stand there for a moment, the weight of the war behind you, the future uncertain, but in this moment, at least, you’ve found a strange sense of peace. The tears still linger, but there’s warmth in the air, and for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel the need to run.

“I guess we really are getting old, huh?” you say, your voice quieter now, but the teasing still there, as always.

Shanks doesn’t respond right away, his hand still gently resting on your back. Instead, he pulls you just a little closer, his breath warm against your hair. “Yeah,” he whispers. “But we’re still alive. And that’s all that matters.”

joost and appie in japan :-)

Present Mic | Hizashi Yamada X Reader

⋆˚✿˖° Mid Life Crisis ⋆˚✿˖°

I want to become tumblr’s token Present mic fanfic writer. I LOVE THAT MAN LIKE NOBODY CAN!!! One person in my DMs had me going back to my drafts immediately

masterlist

he’s never peaked and he will never peak because he’s perfect and amazing.

Hizashi’s house was huge. It didn’t look it from the outside, but once you stepped in, it was like a shrine to rock and roll. Posters of legendary bands covered the walls, electric guitars hung all across the rooms, and vinyl records stacked in neat rows lined the shelves. It was so him,loud in personality but meticulously cared for.

You were getting ready in his bedroom, standing in front of his full length mirror, adjusting the tight dress that hugged all the right places. It wasn’t anything too much, but it was enough to turn heads, and you were already excited for the one person that you cared about to see you.

“Alright, babe, you ready to-” His voice cut off as soon as he stepped in. You smirked at him through the mirror. He had his hair tied up in a bun, a simple button up and vest combo making him look effortlessly cool. But that wasn’t the fun part, the fun part was the way he was staring. “-go?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Oh? Something wrong, Yamada?” you teased, turning to face him fully, giving a little spin. “Too much?”

Hizashi blinked, his mouth slightly open, then shook his head violently. “Nope! Nope, not at all! In fact, I, wow, okay, I love my life.”

You laughed, stepping closer, running a hand down his vest. “You clean up nice yourself. That handsome face of yours, I’m gonna have to fight off the others tonight.”

“Me? Babe, me? I need to be concerned about you!” He pointed an exaggerated, accusing finger at you. “Do you see yourself? You’re illegal. You should be arrested for—wait, no, that sounds weird—uh, I should be arrested for—uh—”

You snorted as he tripped over his words, his usual confident, loud persona cracking in real time. Adorable. “So you like it?” you hummed, tilting your head.

“Like is an understatement, sweetheart. You are out here committing crimes against my heart, and I ain’t even mad about it.” He held you close, staring at you, or rather looking right in your eyes. “I’m simping so hard right now, I swear.”

You grinned, stepping even closer, hands resting on his chest now. “I should not had let the class teach you that word….Then should we even go to the party? Or should I just let you keep simping all night?

Hizashi groaned, throwing his head back. “Babe, don’t tempt me. The only thing keeping me from locking this door and worshipping the ground you walk on is that I know if we don’t show up, Aizawa is going to kill me if I leave him alone.”

You pouted dramatically. “Ugh, fine. But you better keep this same energy the whole night.” He leaned down, lips just barely brushing against yours before he grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, you know me”

—-

Hizashi didn’t let up. Not at all. Not when you were walking through the front doors of the party, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as if staking his claim which, considering the amount of attention you were getting in that dress, was completely intentional.

the loud, confident, sometimes utterly ridiculous man who never seemed to run out of energy. And you, the calm (most of the time), equally confident pro who somehow managed to keep up with his antics. People talked about your relationship all the time. The age gap, the differences in energy, how did this even happen? conversations. But the truth, You were stupid for each other.

It wasn’t just the attraction, though damn if that wasn’t strong. It was the fact that no matter how much Hizashi turned a room into his stage, his eyes always found you first. The fact that, even after a long day, when he should’ve been crashing, he’d still pull you into his arms and hum softly, running his hands through your hair as you talked about your day. The fact that for all his confidence, you were the one who made him speechless. on the flip side? He was your biggest hype man. Always in your corner, always reminding you just how much of a badass you were. You might be a top 10 pro, but he made sure you felt like one, even on the days when you didn’t.

——

The party was in full swing, music blaring, drinks flowing, and pros of all ranks finally letting loose for once. It was rare to get a night like this, where no one had to worry about saving the world, so you were damn well going to enjoy it. You were on the dance floor with Hawks and Mirko, and it was all over the place.

Mirko was hyping you up like crazy, clapping and whistling every time you so much as moved, while Hawks, ever the showman, had decided he was going to out dance everyone. including you.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, pointing at Hawks as he spun dramatically. “You do realize you’re the only one trying, right?”

“Oh, please,” he shot back, flipping his bangs out of his eyes. “This is all done in a super nonchalant way. You’re just mad, you can’t keep up!”

That earned a sharp laugh from Mirko, who immediately joined in. “Yeah, no way I’m letting that slide. Get his ass.”

And so the battle began. At some point, it stopped being about looking good and turned into pure nonsense. Argyably it never looked good. Hawks attempting breakdancing moves he had no business trying, Mirko throwing in kicks just because? and you? You just let loose, moving however you wanted, laughing so hard your sides hurt. Some of the other pros were watching, some cheering, some just shaking their heads at the spectacle. Midnight had walked by at one point, smirking knowingly. “Well, aren’t you three the life of the party?”

“Damn right we are!” Hawks shot back, striking a pose.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Hizashi was not moving at all. He and Aizawa had claimed one of the couches, and while the party raged around them, they were just chilling. Hizashi had one arm draped over the back of the couch, his drink in hand, his usual grin plastered on his face. He was vibing, content just being there, occasionally chatting with Aizawa between pros walking past and greeting them.

Aizawa, on the other hand, was doing what he did best sitting in silence, eyes half lidded, drink untouched.

“She’s having fun,” Aizawa eventually said, nodding towards you on the dance floor. Hizashi followed his gaze, his grin softening a bit when he spotted you. Even in a crowd, even with people surrounding you, his eyes always found you first.

“Yeah,” he said, voice just a little too fond. “She looks real good, too.”

Aizawa sighed. “You’re so lame.”

Hizashi cackled. “Oh, you have no idea, man.”

Hizashi leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out as he sipped his drink. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the room, but he was content just sitting there, people watching with Aizawa. It was a rare break from the chaos of pro hero life, and even if the night was loud, it was nice. Aizawa, meanwhile, sat like he always did hunched, arms crossed, looking like he was two seconds away from dipping. Hizashi wasn’t fooled, though. The fact that Aizawa hadn’t actually left yet meant he didn’t hate it too much.

“Hard to believe we get to do this now, huh?” Hizashi mused, watching as a few lower ranked pros passed by, nodding respectfully in their direction. Some were fresh faces, new names climbing the ranks, and it reminded him just how much things had changed.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Feels weird. Feels like we should be doing something else. Something useful.” Hizashi snorted. “You are doing something useful relaxing.”

Aizawa gave him a look. “That’s your definition of useful?”

“Damn right it is!” Hizashi gestured dramatically around the room. “Look at everyone! They’re all taking a break, lettin’ loose, remembering they’re people and not just walking disaster response units. You think we don’t deserve this?”

Aizawa hesitated, his expression unreadable. Hizashi knew where his mind was going before he even had to say it. The sheer amount of loss they’d all seen, the students, the fellow heroes, the weight of the world on their shoulders. It was hard to sit back and have a good time when the job never really stopped.

Before Aizawa could spiral too deep, a familiar voice cut through the moment. “Wow, look at you two, I dont know if you guys know how a party works”

Hizashi looked up to see Snipe passing by, arms crossed, the usual deep-set frown on his face. Beside him, Power loader, now slightly sweaty from dancing, grinned at the sight of them.

“Don’t be jealous, old man,” Hizashi shot back. “Not everyone can handle this level of zen!”

Snipe just smiles and walked away. Power Loader, however, laughed and clapped Hizashi on the shoulder before following.

“Man, with the amount of pros here I feel there's a problem bound to happen,” Aizawa muttered. Before Hizashi could respond, another familiar presence approached, Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady.

“Yamada,” Kamui greeted with a nod.

“Hizashi,” Mt. Lady added, her gaze flickering over to Aizawa. “And… the usual grump.” Aizawa just sighed.

“You two taking it easy, huh?” Kamui asked.

“Someone’s gotta hold down the couches,” Hizashi joked.

Mt. Lady smirked. “You sure you’re not just getting old?”

“Ouch!” Hizashi smiled. “whats up with the hate for relaxing at parties?”

She just laughed as she and Kamui walked off, leaving Hizashi shaking his head. Aizawa took another sip of his drink before finally speaking. “You are getting old, though.”

“Excuse me?”

Aizawa gave him a sideways glance, eyes just barely amused. “You’re 30, dating a 22 year old, wearing your hair in a bun, talking about how much things have changed, face it, you’re having a mid life crisis.”

Hizashi gasped like he’d just been personally attacked which he kinda did. “How dare you.”

Aizawa shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Hizashi shook his head, sighing dramatically. “And here I was, thinking I could count on my best friend to support me.”

“I am supporting you,” Aizawa said, smirking slightly. “I just think it’s funny.”

“You’re so lucky I love you, man,” Hizashi grumbled, finishing off his drink.

Aizawa hummed. “Lucky is one way to put it.”

Hizashi wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t insecure, either. He was loud, confident, and damn well knew what he brought to the table. But the age thing? Yeah. That always made him think. He knew Aizawa had just been messing with him, it was what they did, their whole friendship built on dry humor and good natured jabs. But now, sitting there, watching the party move around him, the thought wouldn’t leave his head.

He was 30. You were 22.

Eight years wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was some old man, but still sometimes, it made him wonder.

You were young, in your prime, one of the best heroes out there. You had the world at your feet. And sure, he was at some point in the top 10, too, still full of energy, but there were moments like this one where he felt older. Not in a way that made him doubt himself, but in a way that made him wonder if you’d ever look back and think… damn, I should’ve picked someone my own age.

He hated thinking like that. It was dumb. You were with him. You chose him, over and over again. But it didn’t change the fact that every now and then, the thought crept in. Maybe it was because he loved you so much. Like, a stupid amount. Enough that he wanted to make sure you never regretted choosing him. Enough that he caught himself worrying about things he’d normally laugh off.

Maybe that’s what a mid-life crisis really was. Not the bun, not the nostalgia, not the way Aizawa poked fun. It was realizing you had something so good, and you’d do anything to keep it. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his thumb over the rim of his glass. Aizawa, ever perceptive even when half asleep, glanced at him. “You actually thinking about it?”

Hizashi snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. Just… y’know.”

Aizawa hummed. “You know she loves you, right?”

That made Hizashi pause. It wasn’t like Aizawa to say stuff like that outright.

Hizashi chuckled, leaning back again, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah. I know.”

And he did. He just had to remind himself sometimes.

——

The music was still pounding, the lights flashing in a dizzying rhythm as you moved with Hawks and Mirko. The three of you had long given up on anything resembling actual dancing. it was just pure fun now. Hawks was still determined to outshine everyone, while Mirko hyped up literally everything you did, laughing wildly every time one of you spun too fast or almost tripped.

Maybe you’d had a little too much to drink. You weren’t drunk, just… happy. A little lightheaded, a little more free. Enough that the world felt warmer, easier, like nothing could touch you in this moment. Or you were drunk. hussssh now

And then, between the spinning lights and the blur of movement, your eyes landed on him. Hizashi was still on the couch, still grinning, still talking with Aizawa, but… something felt off. Maybe it was the slight shift in his posture, or the way his usual energy seemed just a little muted.

You didn’t think. One second, you were dancing. The next, you were running. Well, stumbling, really. Mirko shouted something, probably encouragement. Hawks called after you, definitely something teasing. But you didn’t stop. You just launched yourself forward, nearly crashing into Hizashi’s side as you practically tackled him in a hug.

“WHOA!” Hizashi barely had time to react before you were on him, arms wrapped around his torso, your body half in his lap as you buried your face against his vest.

“Heyyyyy,” you mumbled, grinning up at him.

Hizashi blinked, caught somewhere between startled and entirely smitten. Then, as if on instinct, he wrapped his arms around you, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Babe, you good?”

“Mmmhmm.” You nuzzled closer, tightening your hold. “Just wanted to be near you.”

Aizawa, still sitting beside him, gave you both the most unimpressed look before sighing. “I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hizashi waved him off, though his eyes never left you. “Love you too, bro.”

Aizawa just grunted, standing up and disappearing into the crowd. Hizashi, meanwhile, exhaled slowly, letting his chin rest against the top of your head. “Didn’t know I was makin’ a face to call you over.”

“You weren’t,” you murmured. “But I know you.”

Hizashi’s arms tightened around you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held you there, warm and solid, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Then, with a soft laugh, he murmured, “Im so lucky I love you.”

“Mmhmm.” You grinned. “I love you.”

You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, still grinning, still feeling weightless from the drinks and the music and him. Hizashi’s golden eyes flickered with warmth, soft under the dim party lights. He was still holding you close, one arm securely around your waist, the other resting lazily along the back of the couch.

You just stared at him, a slow, happy smile spreading across your lips.

He raised a brow, smirking slightly. “What’re you lookin’ at, silly girl?”

Your smile widened. “Just you.”

Hizashi’s grip on you tightened, his smirk faltering for half a second before he chuckled low and fond and a little breathless. “Damn,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You tryna kill me tonight?”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Maaaybe.”

He laughed, the sound softer than usual, quieter, meant just for you. His fingers curled slightly against your waist, absentmindedly tracing circles through the fabric of your dress.

“Y’know,” he mused, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might just have to kiss ya right here, in front of everyone.”

You grinned, tilting your chin up just slightly. “Then do it.”

Hizashi inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening for half a second, like you’d really just tested him. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he flopped back against the couch, “You’re so cute,” he teased, “so reckless, throwin’ my heart around like it’s not already yours.”

You giggled, resting your forehead against his. “Oops.” He let out another laugh, softer this time, before pressing a quick, firm kiss to your temple. “C’mon, babe.” His voice was warm, teasing, but genuine. “Let’s get you some water before you start tryin’ to propose to me or somethin’.”

You gasped even louder, dramatically placing a hand over your heart like he had just offended you. “How dare you, Mic?”

His grin widened. “I knew it—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly between both of yours as you sat up on your knees beside him. “Hizashi Yamada,” you began, voice full of drunken conviction.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed, eyes widening.

“You are the loudest, most ridiculous, most obnoxiously handsome man I have ever met,” you declared, staring deeply into his golden eyes. “You make me laugh, you make me smile, and you make me feel like the luckiest person alive.”

Hizashi covered his mouth with his free hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Babe—”

“Shhh,” you hushed him by placing a hand on his face. then squeezing his fingers. “Let me finish.”

At this point, some of the nearby pros had started noticing. Mirko was doubled over dying in the background, Hawks was crying laughing, and even a few others had turned their heads, realizing that something was going down.

“So,” you continued, lifting his hand like you were about to slip a ring on it, “Hizashi Yamada, my dear, sweet rockstar of a boyfriend… will you—”

Hizashi lunged, scooping you up in his arms and pulling you into his lap before you could even finish. “NOPE,” he shouted, grinning wildly as you giggled hysterically. “We are NOT doin’ this in front of everybody, sweetheart!”

“But I’m serious!” you cackled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m so serious!”

Hizashi groaned, dramatically letting his forehead fall against your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Soooo… is that a yes?”

He pulled back, looked at you with the softest smile, and leaned in close, his lips barely brushing your ear as he murmured, “Ask me again when you’re sober, babe.”*

Hizashi had always known he loved you. That wasn’t new. It wasn’t some grand realization that hit him all at once it was something steady, something constant, like a favorite song playing on loop in the background of his life.

But sometimes like right now it hit him differently. You hadn’t asked what was wrong. You hadn’t pried or tried to dig into his thoughts. You’d just looked at him, noticed the way his energy had faltered for even a second, and decided that was all you needed to know.

You had run to him… well crashed into his side, curled up against him like he was the only thing that mattered in a room full of pros. You weren’t trying to fix anything, weren’t offering reassurances you didn’t even know he needed. You were just there. Holding him, looking at him like he was still the coolest guy in the room, like he was still your favorite person.

And damn if that didn’t make his chest feel too tight in the best possible way. Hizashi had spent years making other people feel seen, heard, important. That was just who he was. But you? You did that for him.

Without even trying.

And he wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but hell. he’d take it. He’d take every drunk proposal, every chaotic moment, every time you looked at him like he mattered more than the number next to his name on the hero charts.

You held his hand so tightly, no hesitation, no doubt, like letting go wasn’t even an option to you.

And as he scooped you up into his lap to stop you from dramatically proposing in front of everyone, as you giggled against him, as he told you to ask again when you were sober he knew.

Hizashi Yamada, ranked 42, loudest hero in the country, knew. If you ever did ask him again… His answer would always be yes.

—-

The second Hizashi unlocked the front door, you beelined for the couch. Well “beelined” was a strong word. It was more of a zigzagging, slightly uncoordinated stumble, courtesy of the drinks still making everything feel just a little too floaty.

“Babe” Hizashi barely had time to react before

THUMP.

You face planted directly onto the couch, limbs sprawled, dress slightly askew, completely motionless. Silence.

“Oh my god,” Hizashi wheezed, kicking the door shut behind him as laughter exploded out of him. “You good?!”

Your muffled voice came from somewhere in the couch cushions. “I live here now.”

Hizashi wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head, still grinning like an idiot. “Nah, babe, you gotta move. we gotta get you to bed.”

You dramatically threw an arm over your face. “Not anymore. This couch and I are one.”

“suuuuure.” He snorted, walking over and kneeling beside you, hands warm as he gently rubbed your back. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

You peeked out from under your arm, giving him a lazy, loopy grin. “I knooow.”

Hizashi chuckled, then leaned in, brushing a kiss against your temple. “C’mon, superstar,” he murmured. “Let’s get you outta this dress and into somethin’ comfy before you actually pass out here.”*

You hummed thoughtfully. “Counteroffer: carry me.”

Hizashi groaned dramatically, already slipping his arms under you. “You are the most spoiled human alive”

“And yet, you love me.”

He sighed, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, yeah. I really, really do.”*

As Hizashi carried you toward the bedroom, you let your head rest on his shoulder, gazing at the familiar surroundings. You’d always technically had your own place, your own space to retreat to. A sleek apartment in the heart of the city, stylish and practical. It had everything you needed, an expansive living room, a kitchen with all the gadgets, and a spacious bedroom with a view of the skyline.

But lately? You hadn’t spent much time there. You’d find yourself opting for Hizashi’s place more and more. His house was different from yours, messy in the best way, with guitars propped up against the walls and posters of old school rock bands plastered on every inch of the space. It wasn’t as polished or clean as your apartment, but that was part of its charm. The clutter felt lived in, real. Every inch of his place had his touch on it, and somehow, it felt like home in a way your apartment never quite did.

Even the sounds of the house were different, his music blaring from speakers, his laughter filling the air in a way your space had never known. And then there was the smell of his cologne, of takeout containers on the counter, and the lingering scent of old vinyl records. It was comfortable in a way your place could never be.

—-

You were already curled up on the bed, the cozy oversized hoodie of Hizashi’s hanging loosely around your shoulders as you relaxed, your eyes drifting lazily over to him.

Hizashi was standing by the dresser, pulling his shirt from his back. You could see the outline of his muscles through the fabric, his usual confident swagger already making its way into the room. The shirt came off, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Hubba hubba,” you said, low and teasing, eyes half lidded in playful admiration.

Hizashi paused mid motion, glancing at you with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, his lips twitching as he shook his head. “Really? You’ve had enough of the party already, and now you’re making comments like that?”

“I’m just appreciating the view,” you grinned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

already pulling his t-shirt off and tossing it casually over his shoulder, sending it flying directly toward you. “There. Now you can cuddle with this.”

You caught it effortlessly, wrapping it around yourself with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, this is like drugs”

Hizashi smirked, standing now in just his vest, eyes twinkling with that usual teasing glint. “You’re welcome, superstar. Now, sleep. I swear, you can’t be serious about anything right now.”

“Who said I wasn’t serious?” you teased, settling back into the pillows with the shirt around you like a blanket. “I’m just showing my appreciation for my handsome boyfriend.”

Hizashi chuckled, walking toward the bed and lying down next to you. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, already getting comfortable beside you. “Alright, enough with the compliments. We both need sleep.”

You couldn’t resist giving him one last playful glance, leaning over and kissing his cheek quickly before nestling down beside him. “Fine, fine… but I’m still thinking ‘hubba hubba’ in my head.”

He rolled his eyes once more, pulling you closer with a content sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” you whispered with a sleepy smile. “and i’m sure you wouldn’t want it any other way.” He didn’t reply right away, his arms pulling you close as you both settled in for the night.

You: i don't want to victim blame but maybe if he didn't want to be called babygirl he shouldn't have been such a babygirl. just a thought.

:0

Masterlist~~

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Keigo Takami was dangerously close to losing control. He sat on the edge of the rooftop, wings sprawled lazily behind him, golden eyes scanning the city below without truly seeing it. Patrol had ended an hour ago, but he hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken off into the sky. Instead, he let the silence swallow him whole while the weight in his chest pulsed with every beat of his heart.

He was thinking about you again. Not just thinking. Obsessing. Wanting. Craving.

It wasn’t new not really. You had been his best friend for years now. The only person who truly saw him for who he was beneath the feathers, beneath the smiles and playful banter. You weren’t fooled by his smirks or his cocky remarks.

And he wanted you in every way a man could want someone.

He pressed his fingers to his lips, as if he could trap the thoughts there, keep them from spilling out. But they always found their way back in. Memories of your laugh, your hand brushing his, the way you leaned into him when you were tired. The way you looked at him like you didn’t expect anything more than what he was already giving.

But God, he wanted to give you more.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, wings twitching behind him. “You have no idea,” he muttered to himself.

No idea how he thought about you when he showered, when he lay awake in bed, when he flew above the city. How the ache wasn’t just in his chest but deep, carnal, physical. You’d never touched him like that not even close but his body remembered every innocent brush, every accidental graze of your fingers, every look that lingered a second too long.

He remembered the last time you hugged him. Fully wrapped your arms around him without hesitation.

You were warm. So warm, it branded him. And he wanted to be selfish. Just once.

He wanted to kiss you. Hold you. Lay you down and worship you with every part of himself. He wanted to hear you moan his name like a plea, like he was the only thing in your world that mattered.

His fists clenched.

But he couldn’t. Because he was your best friend. And you trusted him. He’d never risk that. But lately… it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to act like his thoughts didn’t spiral when you smiled at him, when you laughed and leaned your head back like the world couldn’t touch you. Like he was safe in your orbit.

“Fuck,” he whispered to the empty air.

His wings flared slightly behind him, agitated. He was needy pathetically so and it rattled him. You. His best friend and the woman he couldn’t stop imagining underneath him, moaning his name like a prayer.

He exhaled a shaky breath, one hand dragging down his face. His fingers curled tightly in his hair, jaw clenched. It had started innocently enough thinking about your laugh, the way you teased him, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you loved. But lately, that innocent warmth had twisted, melted into something far darker.

Now all he could think about was how soft your lips would feel against his. How your body would arch into his if he finally let himself touch you the way he needed to. Keigo, who wanted to touch the curve of your waist, bury his face in your neck, trace his fingers down your thighs and hear you gasp for him. Keigo, who thought about your lips parting for him, your nails digging into his back, your breath hot against his ear.

He could already feel your thighs wrapped around him in his imagination, could already hear the sounds you’d make soft, desperate, so unlike the friend you were. And he wanted it more than he wanted anything else.

His cock was already hard, straining against the tightness of his pants, and he fucking hated how easy it was to get this way just thinking about you. It didn’t take much just the memory of your legs crossed during a casual conversation, the way your shirt would ride up when you stretched, revealing the tempting curve of your waist.

He leaned back against the cool concrete of the rooftop wall, letting his head fall back with a low groan. “Goddamn it…”

He’d been so careful. So respectful. Always the charming best friend who gave you space, never said too much, never let his touches linger for too long. But he was starving now.

Keigo wanted to taste every inch of you.

He imagined it pulling you onto his lap, letting his hands explore everything he wasn’t allowed to touch. Your thighs spread for him, your breathy moans in his ear as he whispered filthy things you never thought he’d say.

“You don’t know what you do to me… how long I’ve wanted this.”

He’d take his time with you slow, worshipful, but dripping in hunger. He’d kiss down your neck, between your breasts, over your stomach, and lower, until your thighs trembled around his head. He wanted to ruin you with his mouth, over and over, until your voice was hoarse from crying out for him.

His hips shifted as he ground into his palm, teeth gritted. This wasn’t just some passing fantasy. This was a need buried in the deepest parts of him hot, relentless, consuming.

the worst part… You had no idea. You still called him your best friend. Still crashed at his place when you were too tired to go home. Still walked around in those shorts, those oversized shirts with no bra underneath, curling up beside him on the couch like it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing to him.

Every brush of your fingers set his nerves on fire. Every laugh you shared made his heart ache and his cock twitch.

He wanted to fuck you so deep you’d forget your own name. Wanted to hear you beg wanted to make you feel good, worshiped, ruined. he’d hold back until the day that he dies. Because you trusted him. And he’d never take advantage of that. Never touch you unless you asked him to.

But he was slipping. More and more, his fantasies blurred with reality. He caught himself staring at your lips, imagining how they’d feel wrapped around his cock. He thought about bending you over his kitchen counter when you came over to cook dinner. About tasting you after a long day your sweat, your moans, your pleasure burning into his mouth like a reward.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, palming himself through his pants now, just to ease the ache.

His wings twitched behind him as he imagined your voice in his ear.

“Keigo… please…”

Would you say his name like that? Would you beg for him to go deeper? Harder? Would you cry out for him, nails clawing at his back, thighs trembling as he pushed you over the edge again and again?

Would you finally look at him not just as your best friend, but as the man who’s been dying to be inside you? The man who loved you with everything he had?The thought was enough to tip him over, and he hissed your name into the night air, guilt and desire tangled up in his veins like poison.

He stayed there for a while, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow as the tension drained from him but the ache remained. Because no matter how many times he relieved the pressure, no matter how many times he imagined your hands on him, your mouth, your body it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough. Because he didn’t want your body for just a night. He wanted to have you consume his entire day, everyday. He wanted you. All of you.

✮⋆˙Luigi my first ever crush ✮⋆˙

Luigi Falling in Love with You Headcanons… ✮⋆˙

⋆˚࿔The Slow Burn trope —> Luigi isn’t the type to fall head over heels instantly. At first, he just enjoys your company, always feeling comfortable around you. But one day, he catches himself staring a little too long or getting nervous when you smile at him, and oh no, he realizes, he really likes you.

⋆˚࿔Flustered Mess™ → The second he acknowledges his feelings, he’s done for. He trips over his words, gets all fidgety when you’re around, and turns bright red if you so much as compliment him. Mario immediately picks up on it and teases him relentlessly.

⋆˚࿔Trying to Impress You (and Failing Adorably) → Luigi wants to look cool in front of you, so he tries to be bold. maybe he volunteers to lead an adventure or lift something heavy. But, well… he’s still Luigi. Cue him accidentally tripping over a Koopa shell or getting startled by a Boo. You laughing and helping him up makes him fall even harder.

⋆˚࿔Acts of Service Love Language → He’s not always the best with words, but he shows his love in little ways. Fixing things for you, making sure you have power-ups before a mission, carrying extra snacks just in case you get hungry. he’s always looking out for you.

⋆˚࿔Jealousy? What’s That? → Luigi thinks he’s being subtle when he sees someone else flirting with you, but his face says everything. He suddenly stands a little closer to you, gets extra polite (too polite), and tries to subtly outdo the competition (which usually backfires).

⋆˚࿔Confession Gone Wrong (But Right) → He wants to confess in a romantic way, maybe during a peaceful walk or while watching the stars. But, because he’s Luigi, something always goes wrong, a Goomba interrupts, he trips right before saying it, or he gets so flustered that he just blurts out, “I LIKE YOU A LOT!” and nearly faints.

⋆˚࿔Happiest Man in the Mushroom Kingdom → If you return his feelings? Oh, he’s over the moon. He gets even more flustered at first, but then he just melts into being the sweetest, most thoughtful boyfriend ever. Dates with him are full of laughter, good food (he’s a great cook!), and him holding your hand like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

⋆˚✿˖° Picture this ⋆˚✿˖°

Luigi had a plan.

A simple, foolproof plan.

He was going to take you on a peaceful walk through Toad Town, steer you toward the twinkling lights of Shooting Star Summit, and confess his feelings under the stars. It was perfect. Romantic, private, minimal risk of unexpected disasters.

…Which meant, of course, that it all went horribly, horribly wrong.

It started when he tried to lead you toward the summit. “O-oh! Hey, how about we, uh… take a little detour?” he asked, sweating slightly.

You blinked. “A detour where?”

“To, uh…oh! Look, a flower stand!” he blurted, immediately abandoning his original plan. He rushed over, determined to buy you the prettiest flower there, only for his foot to catch on a loose cobblestone.

He tripped. Knocked over the entire display. Sent flowerpots flying.

Toads screamed.

“Oh no, no no no- sorry! I-I got it!” Luigi panicked, scrambling to pick everything up while turning an alarming shade of red. You helped, trying not to laugh at his flustered state, and the poor Toad running the stand just sighed, clearly used to this kind of chaos.

With the situation barely salvaged, Luigi very awkwardly handed you a slightly squashed daisy. “F-for you,” he mumbled, staring determinedly at the ground.

You took it, grinning. “Why, thank you, kind sir.”

He nearly combusted on the spot.

Despite that disaster, he was determined to see his plan through. So, after a few deep breaths, he finally led you up to Shooting Star Summit. The view was just as beautiful as he imagined, the night sky stretched endlessly, stars twinkling like tiny fireflies.

This is it, Luigi. Don’t mess this up.

He turned to you, heart hammering. “S-so, I… uh… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You looked over at him, curiosity shining in your eyes. “Yeah?”

Luigi opened his mouth-

—and was immediately tackled by a rogue Koopa shell out of nowhere.

“WAH!”

You gasped as he tumbled down the hill, arms flailing. The shell bounced away harmlessly, its owner, a very apologetic Koopa chasing after it. Meanwhile, Luigi lay sprawled in the grass, absolutely defeated.

You rushed to his side. “Luigi! Are you okay?”

He groaned, staring up at the sky like he was questioning every life choice that led to this moment. Why him?

And then, before he could stop himself

“I LIKE YOU A LOT!” he blurted, voice cracking slightly.

Silence.

His brain completely short circuited. His entire body went stiff as the realization hit him. Oh no. Oh no no no, that wasn’t how I was supposed to say it.

Then, you laughed.

Not a mean laugh, not at all, it was warm, delighted, the kind of laugh that made his heart flip. You smiled down at him, eyes twinkling. “You like me, huh?”

Luigi, still flat on his back, squeezed his eyes shut. “…Yes.”

You giggled, reaching out a hand to help him up. “Well, it’s a good thing I like you too.”

He froze.

“You- wait, what?!”

You squeezed his hand, laughing again. “I like you too, Luigi.”

His face lit up so red, Mario might’ve mistaken him for a Fire Flower. He stumbled over his words, completely flustered, but the only thing his brain could settle on was:

Best. Night. Ever.

"You attract what u fear"

You : aahhh a sweet easygoing bi man with beautiful brown eyes

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Let me be your wings

Keigo Takami X Reader

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

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Hawks had been teasing you for years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw clenched. “Delete it.”

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

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

“Keigo Takami, I swear—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawks stiffened immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forget I said that.”

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

“No, I haven’t.”

“You so have.”

“I haven’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“KEIGOOOOOO, PUT ME DOWNNNN—!”

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

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

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

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

“KEIGO—!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not small—”

“—and tragically falling for his irresistible charm.”

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

Hawks gasped. “You love me.”

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

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

“You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirked. “I would.”

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

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

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

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

~~~

Nathan Prescott X Fem!Reader

The Rich Asshole . ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

masterlist

So i have a few conflicting emotions when it comes to this character. from when i found the game I hated this guy. Though like most people there is an ounce of remorse that we feel for this character. However, my love for him is so conflicting because as much as he is a victim, he is the reason for what happened to rachel. Anyways here is my little story with my conflicting feelings. ALSO YOU CAN SAY HE ISN’T AT FAULT BUT HE IS. just because he was lead to these decisions does not mean he still didn’t do them.

“Fuck off, Prescott!” Your voice snapped down the hall, sharp enough to make a freshman nearly drop his textbooks.

Nathan, slouched against the lockers like he owned the goddamn place, gave a slow, mocking clap. “Wow. Real mature, (Y/L/N). You kiss your mommy with that mouth?” His tone was lazy, but his eyes pinned you like a bug to a wall.

You marched toward him, shoving your bag higher onto your shoulder. “I’d rather kiss a loaded shotgun than deal with your shit for the next two weeks.”

Nathan pushed off the locker with a sneer, standing tall. Taller than you, not that you’d ever admit it.

“Newsflash, bitch you think I wanna work with you?” he snapped, crumpling the project assignment sheet in his fist. “I’d rather fucking drown in a Porta Potty.”

You jabbed a finger into his chest a stupid move, because under all that overpriced denim and leather, he was solid muscle but you were way past giving a shit. “Then drop out, Prescott. No one would miss you.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes. You couldn’t tell because just as fast, he leaned in closer, face twisted in a sneer. “You’d miss me, sweetheart. You need someone to take your boring ass life up a notch.” His voice was low, practically a growl. “You’re so desperate for excitement you’ll probably fucking love having me around.”

“You’re delusional,” you spat, shoving past him.

But Nathan wasn’t done. He followed, keeping pace easily, his voice dropping into that dangerous, mocking tone he used when he wanted to pick someone apart. “Face it. You’re just pissed because you have to finally realized you’re not better than me.”

You whirled around, nearly slamming into his chest. “I am better than you,” you hissed, close enough to see the fine scars nicking the side of his jaw, the ones most people didn’t notice under the arrogant smirk. “I don’t have to buy my friends, or bribe my teachers ”

Nathan laughed, sharp and ugly. “Yeah? Keep telling yourself that, bitch. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”

The tension between you vibrated like a taut wire, ready to snap. Across the hall, Mr. Jefferson poked his head out of his classroom door. “Everything okay over there?”

You both spoke at the same time:

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Peachy,” Nathan drawled with a fake grin.

Mr. Jefferson raised an eyebrow but disappeared back into the classroom without another word. Nathan turned back to you, the smile dropping immediately. “We’re meeting at the library. Tomorrow. Four o’clock,” he said, his voice all business now, like he could barely stand to look at you.

“Don’t be fucking late, (Y/L/N). I don’t wanna waste more time than I have to babysitting your dumbass.”

You gave a mocking bow. “Oh, your majesty. Should I bring you a goddamn throne too?”

Nathan just rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets as he stalked off down the hall without another glance at you. You stood there, fists clenched, heart pounding. God, you hated Nathan Prescott.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

The library clock ticked past 4:00 PM. You drummed your fingers on the table, glaring at the empty seat across from you. Your notebook lay open, pen uncapped. Still no Nathan.

At 4:17, he finally strolled in with all the grace of someone who gave absolutely zero fucks sunglasses on indoors, slouched walk, earphones dangling. You didn’t disappoint. “You’re fucking late,” you snapped the second he dropped into the chair across from you with a loud, obnoxious scrape. Nathan didn’t even look at you. Just threw his bag on the table, knocking your pen to the floor.

“Cry harder.”

You scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah? So’s your face, but here we are.”

You clenched your jaw, grabbing your pen. “You gonna actually contribute or just sit there throwing middle school insults?”

Nathan pulled out a crumpled folder and dropped it onto the table like it weighed ten pounds. “I already did my part. You can finish it. You’re the one who actually gives a shit.”

“You call this your part?” You flipped through the papers of barely legible answers. “This looks like it was written by a brain damaged raccoon.”

He smirked. “Well you and the raccoon have something in common. Both can’t shut the fuck up.”

You leaned in, voice low and furious. “I’m not doing this whole thing alone, Prescott. If I fail because of your lazy, coke snorting ass, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Nathan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze dark and slow. “Blow me, princess.”

You didn’t flinch. You just smiled. Sweet. Cold. “I don’t do charity work.”

A few heads turned. You didn’t care. Neither did he. Nathan barked out a laugh bitter, humorless and sat forward again, voice tighter. “You think you’re tough?”

“No,” you said, deadly calm. “I know I’m better than you. You just hate that I don’t suck up to your daddy’s money like everyone else in this school.”

His smile dropped like a stone. “You’re right,” he said, quiet and sharp. “You’re not like everyone else. You’re just louder, bitchier, and a hell of a lot more annoying.”

“At least I don’t need pills and daddy’s lawyers to make it through the day.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, but he opened the book anyway. Slouched so low in his chair you wondered how he could even see the words.

You tried to focus on your own work, but the sound of Nathan tapping his pen against the table made your skin itch. Every two minutes he let out a sigh, a groan, or muttered some sarcastic shit under his breath.

Finally, you snapped.

“If you hate this so much, maybe you should’ve told Jefferson to pair you with someone who gives a shit about your trust fund problems.” Nathan slammed the book closed so hard it made a few nearby students jump.

“Yeah, because you’re so fucking perfect, huh? Probably got your whole boring little life planned out already. Graduate, go to some shitty state school, get a lame job, marry some douchebag with a Prius ”

“At least I’m not gonna OD in my daddy’s beach house!” you hissed back, the words out before you could stop them.

The library went deadly quiet. Even the air seemed to freeze. Nathan’s eyes darkened. His whole face twisted, raw and ugly, and for a terrifying second, you thought he might actually throw something at you. Instead, he stood up so fast his chair tipped over behind him.

“Fuck this,” he snarled.

The librarian barked from the desk, “Hey! shut up or get out!”

Nathan didn’t even flinch. He grabbed his bag and stormed out, shoving the door open so hard it banged against the wall. You stayed frozen in your seat, chest heaving, throat tight. Some students stared. Others pretended not to notice. Slowly, you packed up your things, the shame burning hotter than your anger now.

You left the library with your jaw tight and your fists clenched so hard your nails bit into your palms. Screw him. Screw his smug face, his broken homework, and that goddamn mouth that never shut up unless he was about to say something even worse.

The cold air outside was a slap, but it helped. You headed toward the dorms, steps quick and angry. Until you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and sure enough, Nathan Prescott was trailing you, jacket half zipped, jaw set like he’d been chewing on broken glass. You stopped. “Are you seriously following me now? What, storming out wasn’t enough for you?”

Nathan didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. Too close. “Why the fuck are you always such a bitch to me?” he snapped.

You blinked. That… wasn’t what you expected. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he bit, eyes narrowed. “We’ve barely spoken before this week, and you act like you’ve got me all figured out. You’re always ready to throw shit at me like you know me.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came. For once, he wasn’t just being snide he was pissed, yeah, but there was something else under it. Something sharper. Real.

“What the hell did I do to you, huh?” he went on, voice rising. “We’ve never had a conversation before Jefferson paired us up, and you already decided I’m the devil or some shit.”

“You’ve got a reputation, Prescott. Don’t act surprised.”

He laughed. One dry, humorless breath. “Yeah? So that’s it? Some gossip, and suddenly you know who I am?”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t need to know you. I’ve seen enough.”

“No, you’ve seen what you want to see.” He leaned in slightly, voice low. “You think I’m some rich junkie asshole with a fucked up temper and a silver spoon so far up my ass I choke on it, right?” You didn’t answer. The silence said enough. Nathan’s tongue pressed against his cheek. He nodded slowly, like he was trying to swallow something bitter. “Right. Thought so.”

You shifted your weight. “Look, you act like a dick, Nathan. You treat people like they’re beneath you.”

“And you treat me like I’m already guilty of something I didn’t even fucking do.” His tone turned colder. “So what does that make you? If you’re throwing labels at someone without even trying to know them?”

You tried to shove past him, but he stepped in front of you again not touching you, but close enough to make your blood burn. “What? Can’t handle hearing it? You’re so sure you’re better than me?”

“I am better than you.”

“No,” he said, voice like ice, “what kind of self righteous bullshit is that”

You stared at him. His eyes weren’t glazed or cocky like usual, they were clear. You hated how it made your stomach twist. “Just stay the hell away from me,” you muttered.

He didn’t move. “Then stop talking about me like you know me. Because you don’t. And judging by today?” He tilted his head slightly, mouth curled in something bitter. “You’re not half as perfect as you like to pretend.” Then he finally stepped aside, letting you pass. But his words followed you all the way down the sidewalk.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You moved through the halls walking beside Max while she rambled about her latest photo concept. Her words blurred something about natural light, shadows, an abandoned greenhouse. You nodded here and there, but your attention wasn’t really on her. Nathan Prescott stood across the hall, leaned casually against the lockers in that crimson red sweater he always wore like armor. His hands were shoved into his pockets, posture slouched, head tilted toward Victoria, who was perched beside him. She was talking fast probably gossiping and he was barely listening. His expression was eyes distant.

“Hey, you good?” Max asked, her voice soft as she glanced sideways at you.

You blinked, pulled from your thoughts. “Yeah. Just out of it.”

She smiled lightly. “Blackwell’ll do that to you.”

Across the hall, Nathan looked up. His eyes met yours. You expected him to smirk. Or scoff. Or whisper something to Victoria that would piss you off all over again. He didn’t. He just held your gaze. There was no fire in it this time.

Then Max nudged your shoulder. “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

You turned, walking with her toward class, but the moment stuck with you like a thorn beneath skin. He wasn’t just some cautionary tale wearing expensive clothes. you weren’t as far above the mess as you liked to pretend.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it. You’d barely knocked twice before the door to Nathan’s dorm creaked open, not wide, just enough for a glimpse of his sharp glare and the darkened room behind him. His eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to work on the project,” you replied, shifting your weight.“You bailed on the library. I didn’t have your number.”

Nathan blinked once. Then, without warning, he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and yanked you inside. “Jesus!” The door slammed shut behind you. Before you could blink again, you were standing in the middle of his room dim, cluttered, with a faint smell of smoke and expensive cologne in the air. The only light came from a lamp on his desk, casting long shadows across the mess of camera equipment, crumpled notes, and an open bottle of water. He stood between you and the door, arms crossed, expression sharp.

“You shouldn’t be in the guys’ dorm.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that deep, Prescott.”

“No,” he said, stepping a little closer, “it’s pathetic. You that desperate to see me? You stalking me now? Perv.”

You stared at him. “Are you always this fucking dramatic?” you snapped. “I came to work. On the project. The thing that’s due next week?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t just ask for my number?”

“like your ass would indulge me in any conversation”

Nathan scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “And barging into my dorm was the better option?”

“You ditched me. Again.” You crossed your arms, mirroring him. “I’m not playing chase the rich kid so you can pretend this group project doesn’t exist. I showed up so we can finish the damn thing.”

He stared at you for a long beat.

Then, quietly, “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

“I’m passing this class.”

He turned away, flopping onto the edge of his unmade bed, elbows on his knees. “Fine,” he muttered. “If you’re gonna stand there taking over my space, grab a chair. Let’s get it over with.” You hesitated. Just for a second. Then sat down across from him silently waiting for Nathan to open the shared project file. But your eyes kept drifting. His desk was cluttered High end camera bodies rested in velvet lined foam. Lenses of varying sizes were stacked in an open case like polished glass trophies. Film rolls peeked out of a drawer he hadn’t shut properly. And on the wall above his bed, pinned with silver tacks, were photos.

Black and white. Grainy. Sharp.

Some were of strangers street shots, harsh shadows and sharp angles. Others were more abstract: empty chairs, cracked pavement, tree limbs twisting through fog. You didn’t mean to stare so long. But the compositions were striking. Not what you’d expected from someone who talked like he didn’t care about anything. Nathan sat on the edge of his bed, laptop open in front of him, fingers frozen over the keyboard. he wasn’t looking at the screen. He was watching you. Eyes low beneath his lashes, The tension from earlier had settled into something quieter not calm, exactly, but less volatile. He noticed the way your head tilted slightly as you studied a particular photo on the wall, your brow furrowed in faint curiosity. You looked different when you weren’t trying to bite back. He blinked, shook the thought away like an itch under his skin, and finally tapped the space bar.

“You gonna drool or you wanna help?” he muttered, loud enough to snap your attention back.

You blinked, jerking your head toward him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re staring at my shit”

You scoffed. “I was just surprised you’re actually good at something other than being an asshole.”

A grin flickered across his lips. “Wow. Touching praise from someone who broke into my dorm.”

“I didn’t break in.”

“guys dorm remember? That’s trespassing.”

You opened your mouth to fire back then caught the way his voice softened just slightly on that last word. Not enough to call it kind. You leaned forward, finally dragging the chair toward his desk. “Just show me what you’ve done so far. We’re not gonna finish anything if you keep acting like I poisoned your coffee.” He exhaled slowly, shifting the laptop so you could both see the screen. But his gaze lingered on you a second longer before turning to the document. You didn’t notice. He didn’t say anything.

You didn’t know how it happened but somewhere between reviewing the first slides and editing the captions, the two of you had stopped biting at each other. Nathan wasn’t exactly friendly, but he was… tolerable. He made a sarcastic comment about your font choice, and you rolled your eyes but didn’t snap. You pointed out a typo in his work, and he didn’t bark back, just muttered “Yeah, alright,” under his breath and fixed it.

life is strange isnt it?

The lamp on his desk cast a warm glow across the screen as the two of you leaned closer, arguing mildly about the placement of one of the images. You caught a soft twitch at the corner of his mouth not a smile, not quite but something quieter, like he wasn’t entirely annoyed you were here anymore. You glanced at the photo on the slide. One of his shots: a boy sitting on a curb, face obscured by shadow, light cutting sharp across his shoulder. “This one’s your best,” you said before you could stop yourself. Nathan’s eyes flicked to yours, He didn’t say anything. Just stared. Then, his phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

He glanced down, pulled it from his pocket lazily, still half focused on the screen. But the moment his eyes locked onto the message, something in him changed. Like a switch flipped. His shoulders tensed. Jaw tightened. Whatever softness had started to settle between you evaporated. He shoved the phone back into his pocket hard. You straightened, uncertain. “Everything okay?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then voice low, clipped “You should go.”

The air dropped ten degrees.

You blinked. “What?”

“I said, you should leave.” He stood abruptly, already walking past you, pacing like the room had become too small to breathe in.

You stood, confused, watching him retreat toward the window without explanation.

“Nathan ”

“Don’t,” he snapped, not turning around. “It’s fine. Project’s fine. everything is fine. the world is fucking fine. I’ll send you the edits later.”

His voice was cold again. The weight was back in the room, that same heaviness you’d felt the first time he looked at you like you were just another person here to take something from him. You didn’t know who had texted him. Or why he looked like the ground had just shifted beneath him. But you didn’t ask. You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder slowly. “Thanks for not being a total dick today,” you said quietly.

No response. You walked to the door, hesitating just a moment before opening it. Nathan still hadn’t turned around. So you left quietly, without another word. The hallway light stung your eyes as the door clicked shut behind you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

Nathan laid on his back, eyes wide open, blinking into the ceiling. He hadn’t moved in hours not really. He’d thrown on a hoodie sometime after you left, curled in on himself, and stared at nothing as the hours bled past midnight. His phone buzzed again. Another message. From the same number. He didn’t read it. His chest felt tight. He could hear his own breathing too fast, too shallow. His hands twitched where they gripped the edge of his mattress, fingers white knuckled and cold. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. But it felt worse tonight. Now shame thick in his throat, desperation louder than pride, he opened the school directory, found your name, and typed your number in. He stared at the digits for a long time. Then, he hit Call.

You woke up to the buzz of your phone on your nightstand, groggy and confused.

1:47 AM. Unknown Number.

You almost ignored it. Almost. Though you firmly believed doing stuff for the plot leads to funnier futures.

“Hello?”

For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then a quiet breath. A small, almost inaudible noise. Then, “Don’t hang up.”

Your heart stilled. “Nathan?”

“Um… hi?” you said slowly. “Why are you ”

“I just…” He sounded off. His voice was low, but shaky. Like he was trying to keep it together. “I can’t sleep.”

You were quiet for a second. Not sure what to say. It was weird. You barely knew him. The guy who made it very clear he didn’t want to work with you suddenly calling you in the middle of the night? The hell? “How did you get my number?”

“School directory. Look, I know it’s fucking weird, okay? Just fuck just don’t hang up yet.”

You leaned back in your bed, running a hand down your face. The annoyance faded just a little. There was something raw under his words, something fraying at the edges.

You exhaled. “Alright. I’m not hanging up. What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. You heard him breathing though sharp inhales, shallow. Like he was pacing, or panicking.

“I just needed noise or something. I dunno. It’s like my chest’s full of needles.”

Okay. That was more than you expected. You pushed your blanket off and sat up fully, rubbing your eyes awake.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Sounds like a panic attack.”

He let out a laugh. It was bitter. Dry. “No shit.”

You stayed quiet a second, then started talking. Not about anything important just things to fill the space. You told him about the way your floorboards creaked weirdly when it got cold. The dumb poster your roommate hung crooked. The vending machine that kept eating your dollar bills. You weren’t sure why he stayed on the line. You weren’t sure why you did, either. But the minutes passed, and you could hear his breathing start to even out.

At one point, he said, quieter this time, “I didn’t know who else to call.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything. He stayed on the line until you heard nothing but slow, steady breathing. Then the call ended. You thought that was it. Just a one time weird moment. But the next night, your phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number. 12:18 AM.

You stared at it for a second. Then picked up. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Fuck off,” Nathan muttered, but his voice didn’t sound angry.

just like that, it became a thing. Not every night, but often enough. He’d call, and you’d talk him through it. Or he’d just listen while you rambled about whatever was in your head. Sometimes he didn’t even say much. You’d just hear his breathing. Then, one night, a text.

[1:03 AM] “Dorm’s a pressure cooker tonight. Need to get out. You up?”

You blinked down at it, thumb hovering over the screen. Then replied. “ok fuckboy, Where?”

[1:04 AM] “Back side of the art building. If you’re not scared of the dark or whatever.”

You pulled a hoodie over your head and slipped out the side door, keeping your steps light across the grass. You found him sitting on the low concrete wall, hoodie on, legs stretched out, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He didn’t look at you when you walked up.

“So… you make a habit of calling girls you don’t like at 1 a.m.?” you asked, standing over him.

He smirked, flicking ash. “You’re the only one dumb enough to answer.”

“Lucky me.”

He scooted over slightly. You sat down next to him, knees brushing briefly. He smelled faintly like smoke and laundry detergent. For a minute, neither of you said anything. Then he muttered, “Thanks. For not being a dick about the calls.”

You glanced at him. That was probably the closest thing to a thank you he was capable of. “Yeah, well,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder, “I’m not completely heartless.”

He gave a dry little laugh and took another drag. And for the first time since you’d met him, Nathan didn’t seem like he was pretending to be someone else.You hopped up beside him, the wall cold through your jeans. He handed you the cig wordlessly, and you took a drag, passing it back before pulling your phone from your hoodie pocket.

Three missed texts.

[1:52 AM Warren G.]

Where are you right now?

[1:53 AM Warren G.]

I just saw you from my window. Was that Nathan Prescott? Seriously??

[1:54 AM Warren G.]

[Y/N], what are you doing with him?

You stared at the screen for a long second, then locked it and shoved it deep into your pocket. You weren’t answering that.Warren was probably the reason you hated him so much. Right now Instead, you pulled a small joint from the hem of your hoodie tucked right where your sleeve met the wristband.

Nathan’s eyes tracked the motion, brow raising. “Since when do you carry?”

“Since tonight, apparently.” You lit it with a flick of a borrowed lighter, watching the paper curl into orange.

Nathan smirked faintly, but there was a flash of something in his face, curiosity. Not judgment. Just… surprise. “Rough night?”

You took a long pull, exhaled upward. “You could say that.”

You didn’t mention Warren. Didn’t mention the way your phone buzzed in your pocket like it was desperate to ruin the quiet. Nathan didn’t push. He just leaned back on his elbows, watching the smoke twist into the dark sky. What has been different from when you started interacting with Nathan more was not telling your friends everything. Warren might be the only reason you didnt like the guy that was sitting beside you. Though even hes such a stick in the mid sometimes.

“Not bad form,” he muttered.

“Thanks.”

He gave a soft snort, and for a minute, the tension dropped. You passed the joint over, and he took it without a word. The smoke danced lazily in the air between you, catching in the wind and disappearing into nothing. You leaned back beside him, body loose from the hit, brain a little fogged like your thoughts were wearing fuzzy socks on a hardwood floor. Nathan took another drag, eyes half lidded, and passed it back to you. You didn’t take it this time. Just stared forward, hands braced behind you, legs kicked out.

“You know,” you started, voice a little slower than usual, like you had to fish the words from somewhere murky, “I think I like you more than I realized.” Silence. You looked over, then quickly back at the dark stretch of campus in front of you. “I mean maybe it’s the high talking. Or maybe I’m just sleep deprived and having a brain glitch. Whatever.” You waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal, even though it felt like one. “It’s not like I know you, know you, but…”

You trailed off. The buzz of the joint mixed with the weight of that little truth hanging out in the open air now. Nathan blinked at you and then scoffed. “Wow,” he muttered with a crooked smile. “You catch feelings off one joint and a sad boy routine?.”

You turned to glare at him. “Shut up.”

“No, really. Should I light candles next time? Bring you flowers? Write you some poetry?” His grin stretched You went to snap back but then his hand brushed against yours on the concrete. Not accidental. He didn’t look at you when he did it. He just let his fingers slide over yours, catching them loosely. His palm was warm. Steady. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at him. Just stared at the building lights across the quad and let your hand stay in his.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You hadn’t slept. Not really. Instead, you’d just laid there, reliving every second behind the art building Nathan’s hand in yours. he was warm. so warm. his eyes were glossy. the night ended later than any of you two could gather. Blackwell always felt a little gray in the morning, but today it there might have been a little pep in your step. Cold in the air, a small little nathan shaped warmth in your chest. You stepped into the hallway and spotted him before you were even fully through the door.

Nathan. Leaning against a locker laughing at something Victoria said, though it didn’t look real. Nothing about him did anymore. You slowed for just a second. “Shit,” he muttered, loud enough to carry. “Should’ve known the freak parade would show up early.”

Victoria snorted. “God, can she not?” Her eyes flicked over your clothes like she was personally offended by the fabric. “Every day’s a fashion crime with her.”

You froze mid step. Max and Warren were behind you, chatting, not realizing what you were walking into. Your heart stung before your brain could even process what was happening. Nathan pushed off the locker, brushing past you with a smug little smile. “Hope the janitors are getting paid extra,” he sneered, “cleaning up after your desperation.”

“What the hell, Prescott?” Warren stepped in fast, hand fisting at his side.

Nathan turned back, cocky, dangerous. “Relax, boy scout. Didn’t realize you two were still sharing notes. Or maybe it’s more than that, huh?” His eyes swept to you again, slower this time, and colder. “Figures. Nobody else would.”

ok pause. because what the fuck happened. Like yes he was an ass. the whole school knew that. Though considering the amount of time he was crawling into your messages, where the hell did this come from?

“Keep walking,” Max said lowly, stepping up beside you.

Max didn’t press. She never did. That was the nice thing about her. Since starting the school year, you both bonded on being new. well for you, relatively new and her coming back to her hometown.

Warren, though? At lunch, he was full of energy, waving you over like always. You sat down beside him and Max at your usual table under the half broken patio umbrella. He was in the middle of some rant about science fiction film logic when it happened.

“I’m just saying if a robot gains sentience, it doesn’t automatically mean it wants to kill us. That’s lazy writing ”

From across the quad, a loud snort cut him off.

“Wow,” Victoria said, not even bothering to keep her voice down. “Look who’s still wearing last season’s clearance rack.”

You blinked, confused, until you realized she was looking directly at you. Taylor giggled beside her, but it was Nathan who made your stomach drop. He pointed toward once at your table and leaned over to whisper something to Victoria. Then, loud enough for everyone near to hear “She should’ve stayed invisible. Worked better for her.”

Max stiffened beside you. “Jesus. What is their problem today?”

Warren stood up, indignant. “Hey. Why don’t you back off, Prescott?”

Nathan didn’t even look at him. His eyes were on you and they weren’t blank. They were cold. Icy. “Relax,” he said, tone bored. “Just making an observation.”

“You want me to make one too?” Warren snapped. “Like how you’re always hiding behind Victoria’s designer knockoffs?”

Victoria gasped like she’d been slapped. “Excuse me?”

Max grabbed Warren’s arm. “Not worth it,” she said quietly. You sat disguted. Nathan’s stare found you again. And just before he turned away, he said it not loud, but loud enough. “Better keep your pets on a leash.”

Then he walked off. Victoria followed, heels snapping against the pavement. The rest of the Vortex Club trailed behind them like spoiled royalty. You didn’t finish your lunch. You barely tasted anything after that. Max rubbed your shoulder gently, concern in her eyes. “You okay?”

You nodded. You lied. Because all you could hear was his voice, cold and clean and cutting a thousand miles from the one you’d heard whispering into the phone at 1 A.M. Like none of it had happened. Like you hadn’t happened.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

His eyes met yours, and for the first time all day, he was actually looking at you in the eyes. “Hey,” he said, voice soft.

You didn’t say it back.Instead, you stepped past him and into the room like it was a business meeting. Camera bag down. Laptop open. The wall between you and him went up brick by brick with every breath. “Let’s just get this done,” you said.

He didn’t argue. Just shut the door behind you quietly. You sat at his desk, the screen glow lighting your face. He hovered nearby, watching you scroll through edits like he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Or maybe like he didn’t know how to say anything at all. “I fixed the lighting on the last three shots,” you said flatly. “Yours were a little overexposed.”

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re better at that stuff anyway.”

You didn’t respond. Just kept clicking. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed, quiet for a while before asking, “Did you still wanna use that photo by the fountain?”

“I already did.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, glanced at you, then away. “You, uh… didn’t answer my text this morning.”

You didn’t look at him. “Didn’t think it needed a reply.”

Nathan nodded, jaw tight. “Right.”

Back to silence. He didn’t bring up what happened. Didn’t ask how you were. And you didn’t bring it up either not how he’d ignored you all day, not how the only time he seemed to be kind was when it was dark out and nobody else could see. Not how you were starting to wonder if this was all he had to give. Just this. Only at night. Only when no one else was looking. You highlighted a paragraph of text and rewrote it. He leaned closer, trying to peek at the screen.

“You’re really good at this,” he said quietly.

You flinched. Not visibly but inside, your bones rattled. It felt like a visceral reaction. You kept your voice neutral. “We’re almost done.”

He didn’t say anything else. You sat there together for another half hour, finishing edits. His bed creaked once when he shifted. You didn’t look. Eventually, you saved the file and stood up.

“That’s everything,” you said. “I’ll print it in the morning.”

Nathan watched you gather your things. “You don’t have to go yet,” he said, almost hesitant.

But you did. if he had just said something, you might understand. Though there isnt enough time in the world to be chasing after rich boy problems he doesnt want to address.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

She left.

Didn’t even look back. Just walked out of the dorm like she couldn’t get out fast enough. Yeah. That felt about right. Nathan stood there like an idiot, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, listening to the door click shut. it was some kind of final answer he didn’t ask for. You don’t have to go yet. He’d said it like a damn loser. Like he didn’t spend the entire day pretending she didn’t exist. she looked at him like he was a goddamn stranger. He sat down on his bed, rubbed at his face, dragged his hands through his hair like it would help. It didn’t. It never did. Everything just kept buzzing. Loud. In his ears, in his chest, like a swarm of flies under his skin. He should’ve said something. Anything. Should’ve told her why he was being weird. Why he was quiet. Why he didn’t even look at her earlier. But how the hell do you say,

Hey, I’m scared you’ll end up in the basement of an abandoned barn if I like you too much?

He laughed. Or choked. One of the two. God, his hands were shaking again. He stood up fast, paced once, twice, kicked his desk chair just to feel something and regretted it immediately. His toe throbbed. Whatever.

He was sweating. Why was he sweating?

He pulled off the red zip up and threw it at the wall. Didn’t stick. Just slumped down like everything else. Jefferson’s voice. Crawling back in like it always did.

“She’s interesting, isn’t she?”

“Got a real… natural quality. Honest.”

“The kind of face that looks good in contrast. You see it, right?”

“She’s got potential.”

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

It didn’t help. Jefferson’s voice was calm. Already chosen.He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her anywhere near that world.But what the hell was he supposed to do? Jefferson noticed things. once he noticed, it was over. Nathan dropped back onto the floor, breathing fast now. he’d been running. someone was pressing down on his lungs and wouldn’t stop. He clutched his shirt, pulled at the collar, trying to get air. Trying to slow his thoughts. His heart. Anything. But it wouldn’t fucking slow down.

His vision blurred a little. Pressure in his head, behind his eyes. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek just to stop himself from crying or screaming or both.

He felt like he was going to throw up. Or pass out. Or explode. or all of the above. it all might actually happen. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he couldn’t be normal with her… or the fact that when he was, it made him want to protect her more than anything. That protection came with a cost. A choice. A name on a folder.

She didn’t know any of it. And she couldn’t.

until there was a knock at the door.

Nathan didn’t hear it the first time. Not really. Not over the ringing in his ears, or the ragged, frantic way he was trying to breathe. His back hit the wall. He didn’t remember moving. His hands were white knuckled fists against his chest like maybe that would keep it from splitting open.

Another knock.

He blinked. Everything was too bright and too dark at the same time. His name was a whisper behind the door “Nathan?”

Her voice. It hit him like ice water. He squeezed his eyes shut harder, digging his nails into his palms. Not now. Not like this. He couldn’t let her see him like

The door creaked open.

She stepped in fast, muttering under her breath, “God, of course I forgot my charger, that’s just whatever, not like it even ”

She stopped. Frozen. Nathan was on the floor. Slumped against the side of his bed, drenched in sweat, fists clenched so tight they shook. His chest heaved, erratic. Panicked. His face was pale, eyes red rimmed, wide and glassy. All that anger she’d brought with her white hot and ready to crack across the room halted like someone slammed the brakes. Her words died in her throat.

“…Nathan?”

He still didn’t look at her. Just gasped, breath catching hard in his throat, jaw clenched like he was trying not to cry. Or scream. Or both.

Her fingers curled around the charger in her hand. For a second, she stayed rooted to the floor, her heart pounding in her ears. Part of her screamed to turn around and walk away. He deserved that. After everything. Nathan barely registered when she moved closer. He couldn’t even look at her. Just pressed his fists against his temples like that would keep everything from collapsing.

She hovered there for a second, jaw tight, arms crossed. “You’re an asshole,” she muttered. Quiet. Bitter.

He looked like he couldn’t breathe. Cursing under her breath, she dropped the charger on his desk and stepped closer. Her knees hit the carpet slowly, hesitantly, right in front of him. She crouched down between his legs, biting her lip, watching him like he was whipped animal. She didn’t say anything right away. Just reached out, unsure, and carefully took his shaking hand.

Nathan flinched. Then his eyes finally lifted, just a little. Glassy. Bloodshot. Like he didn’t recognize her at first. But he didn’t pull away.

“Jesus…” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. “Nathan, you’re what the hell is going on with you?”

Still no answer. His fingers twitched in hers, breath still coming fast and shallow, but her hand grounded him. Little by little. Beat by beat. She wanted to yell. She really did. Wanted to scream at him for ignoring her. For looking through her like she didn’t matter. For pushing her away with no reason, no explanation, no damn warning.

Nathan’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched under hers, unsure, but desperate for the anchor. He gripped her hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the floor.

“Breathe,” she said, voice flat but steady. “In. Out.”

He tried. God, he tried.

“Again.”

His lungs caught on the exhale, but he followed her voice. One breath. Then another. Her thumb moved gently across his knuckles. She didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at her. They just sat there. Angry. Shaking. Breathing.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said quietly. Just the truth.

All she could do was sit there. Mad. Hurt. Holding onto his hand like it was the only way to keep him from falling apart.

“I’m still pissed at you,” she murmured, after a long, long silence. “But I’m not gonna leave you like this.”

Nathan blinked hard. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He looked away.

And still, she didn’t let go.

Hizashi Yamada X Reader

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Fighting the Pro 𓇢𓆸☾☼

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, shit.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

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

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

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

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

Hizashi groaned dramatically. “You’re unreal.”

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

“Shit. I dont look too messy?”

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

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

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

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

“You functioned just fine earlier,” you teased.

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

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

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

Hizashi Yamada was struggling.

𓇢𓆸☾☼

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

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

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

“Sorry, what?”

Aizawa’s eye twitched. “I said—”

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

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

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

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

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

Aizawa gagged.

“Leave,” he deadpanned.

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

“Leave.”

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

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

And right now? His people were absolutely insufferable.

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

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

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

Across the table, Midnight was watching.

And grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𓇢𓆸☾☼

The apartment smelled like vanilla candles and takeout.

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

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

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

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

“Hizashi, stop.”

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

Hizashi froze, blinking. “What?”

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

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

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

“…Babe, I just”

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

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

“Then what the hell are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It sure as hell feels like it!”

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

None of it felt real.

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

So you finally said it.

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

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

“…That’s not fair.”

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

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

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t know how.

Because you didn’t know if you were wrong.

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

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

His voice cracked on the last word.

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

And that realization hit you harder than anything else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I” he started, his voice raw.

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

And that’s when it hit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𓇢𓆸☾☼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…What?”

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

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

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

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

“Because it’s true every time.”

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

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

Present Mic / Hizashi Yamada x Reader

⋆˚✿˖°Irresistible ⋆˚✿˖°

BACK TO HIM DATING A YOUNGER READER!! hes just so lovely, we are married actually.

Being back at U.A. always felt a little surreal. No matter how many years had passed since your time as a student, the halls still carried the same energy, the same excitement, the same faint scent of ink and sweat, the same distant shouts of students causing trouble. It was nostalgic, sure, but today, you weren’t here as a student.

You’d agreed to be a guest speaker at U.A. today, mainly to share your experience as a Pro Hero with the students. It was a bit of a casual visit, with no intense expectations, just a way to inspire the next generation of heroes. Of course, Hizashi, Present Mic was assigned to show you around for the day.

Today, you were here as Pro Hero: Lumine, a guest for the day. Still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t steal a moment for yourself.

As you walked the halls, Hizashi right beside you, you kept up the act, casual, professional. You were here to speak to a few classes, answer some questions, maybe help out with some training. But right now, with no students or teachers in sight, you saw an opportunity.

You grabbed Hizashi’s wrist and pulled him around a quiet corner, just out of sight.

“Whoa babe?” he blinked, confused for a second, before a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “Miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “You know I don’t get to see you much when I’m busy with work.”

His grin softened. “Yeah… I know.”

You let your hands rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was rare for the two of you to have moments like this. where the world outside didn’t demand your attention, where you weren’t constantly on duty, where you weren’t Pro Hero Lumine and Present Mic but just… y/n and hizashi.

Hizashi leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his voice quieter than usual. “You sure we got time for this?”

“Barely,” you admitted. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

He chuckled, sliding his arms around your waist. “Y’know, you’re gettin’ real bold. Pullin’ me into a corner like some kinda secret rendezvous.”

You smirked. “What can I say? I see a tall blonde guy and my mind goes dumb”

“Really now, huh?” His voice dropped just a little, teasing. “So if I kissed you right now, would that be too exciting?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm… depends. Are you gonna be able to keep your voice down?”

“Oh, babe,” he grinned, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your lips. “That’s a real big ask.”

You huffed a laugh before finally closing the distance, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against his lips. Hizashi hummed in contentment, pulling you closer as if he could somehow make the moment last longer.

But the sound of voices approaching had you both reluctantly pulling apart. He sighed dramatically. “Duty calls, huh?”

“Duty calls,” you echoed, straightening his tie playfully. “Try not to look too lovestruck, yeah?”

“Pfft—too late for that, babe.” He winked before stepping back, adjusting his glasses like nothing had happened. But you caught the way his fingers brushed his lips, as if memorizing the feeling.

With one last glance, you turned the corner together back to being professionals, back to your roles, back to the world outside of this stolen moment. But as you stepped into the light, you knew you’d both be thinking about it all day. Though Hizashi kept up his usual energy as he led you through the halls, chatting away as he pointed out minor changes to the school since your time as a student. The occasional student would recognize you, whispering excitedly to their friends, but no one interrupted. Not yet, anyway.

Eventually, you both reached Class 1-A’s door. Hizashi grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Ready to meet the little hero’s ?”

You huffed a small laugh. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “That’s the spirit!” Then, without missing a beat, he flung the door open and practically bounced into the room. “YEAHHHH! WHAT’S UP, CLASS 1-A?! GUESS WHO I BROUGHT?” a collective gasp followed.

“Wait! that’s Pro Hero Lumine!”

“No way! They’re here?”

“Whoa, they’re so cool in person!”

Hizashi gestured toward you with a dramatic flourish. “That’s riiiiight! The one and only Lumine!” He shot you a look, and you barely held back a smirk.

Aizawa, standing at the front of the class, gave you both a blank stare, then sighed. “I assume you’re not just here to disrupt my class?”

“Aw, c’mon, Eraser, you know we had a guest today!!” Hizashi had a tragic frown on his face. “Lumine here is our guest speaker, remember?”

Aizawa raised a brow at you, and you simply shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride at this point.”

As you stepped forward, Hizashi continued, “Now, listen up, kiddos! Not only is Lumine one of the youngest Top 10 heroes—”

“—he’s really over explaining right now,” you interjected.

“—BUT!” Hizashi continued dramatically, ignoring your interruption, “they also happen to be my—”

You stiffened. Your what?

Luckily (or unluckily), Aizawa cut in smoothly, “Your former student. Yes, we’re aware.”

Hizashi blinked, then coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, yeah, my former student. That’s what I was gonna say.”

The students exchanged looks. Some, like Kaminari and Mina, were eyeing you both very suspiciously.

Mina leaned forward, grinning. “Ooooh, that pause was kinda weird, wasn’t it?”

Kaminari elbowed her. “Right? Like, what was he actually gonna say?”

“Probably something embarrassing,” Jirou muttered, smirking.

You shot Hizashi a look. Really? He gave you a sheepish smile in return. Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we move on?”

You cleared your throat, stepping in to refocus the room. “Right! Anyway, I’m here to answer any questions you have about being a pro hero. So—”

But before you could finish, Kaminari blurted, “How do you know Present Mic so well?”

The whole class leaned in, clearly interested. You deadpanned. “We go way back.”

“How far back?” Mina grinned.

Aizawa sighed. “This isn’t relevant.”

“But it’s interesting!” Mina shot back.

Hizashi, bless him, was absolutely not helping, just standing there grinning like an idiot. You exhaled through your nose, crossing your arms. “Far enough that I have plenty of embarrassing stories about him, but not enough time to share them all.”

The class erupted.

“Oh, we need to hear those!”

“Please tell us at least one!”

You shot Hizashi a look, and he gave you an exaggerated shrug, eyes sparkling with joy.

—-

After the class, as the students trickled out, you turned to Hizashi with a pointed look. “You’re doing a terrible job at hiding our relationship.”

He grinned, entirely unapologetic. “Oh c’mon, babe. You look real cute when you’re flustered.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could leave, he caught your wrist, fingers warm against your skin.

“Hey.” His voice was quieter now, softer, missing its usual booming energy. He glanced at the empty classroom, then back at you. There was something unreadable in his expression, something almost hesitant. “Got a sec?”

You hesitated, Nezu had mentioned stopping by to check in on you, and you really should be heading to the next class but the way Hizashi’s fingers brushed over yours made it hard to say no.

“…Fine. But just a sec.”

Hizashi wasted no time, tugging you toward the classroom’s small storage area, pulling the door shut behind you. The space was tight, barely enough room for the two of you, and the moment you were alone, his hands found your waist, pulling you in close.

His voice dropped lower, rougher. “You drive me crazy, y’know that?” His thumb brushed over the fabric of your uniform, slow, deliberate. “Havin’ to watch you all day and not kiss you?”

You smirked, fingers slipping up his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. “Must be so hard for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Then his lips were on yours urgent and deep, like he was making up for lost time. You barely had a second to react before you were melting into it, tilting your head to let him kiss you deeper. His hands slid up your back, one trailing to cup the back of your neck while the other stayed firm on your waist, keeping you pressed against him.

The kiss started slow, teasing, but it didn’t stay that way. The pent up energy from the entire day the lingering touches, the stolen glances, the way he had to hold back in front of the students spilled over into something more intense. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he let out a quiet groan against your lips, the sound vibrating in his chest.

“Babe,” he murmured between kisses, “you’re killin’ me here.”

You smirked against his lips. “You started it.”

Hizashi let out a breathy chuckle, then dipped his head lower, lips trailing down your jaw, then to your neck. The scrape of his teeth against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and your grip on him tightened.

“This is such a bad idea,” you whispered, tilting your head back to give him better access.

“Yeah?” His breath was warm against your throat. “Then why aren’t you stoppin’ me?”

You swallowed hard, knowing he had a point. “Because,” you admitted, fingers slipping up to to the back of his neck, “I missed you.”

That made him pause. Just for a second. Then he let out a quiet sigh, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before leaning back just enough to look at you.

“I missed you too,” he murmured, voice softer now, more serious. His fingers brushed against your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “You’re always runnin’ around, savin’ the world, bein’ a top hero and all. Feels like I barely get time with you anymore.”

You exhaled, hands resting against his chest. “I know. I feel it too.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, in that small, dimly lit space, his arms around you, your bodies still close, the world outside feeling miles away.

Hizashi’s fingers slid down your arms, his grip tightening around your hands. “Maybe after this, we ditch early. Get some real time together.”

You smiled. “You suggesting we cut class, Yamada?”

He grinned, pressing another kiss to the corner of your lips. “A little. Say you had to go save someone and take me with you”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. “Tempting.”

Before either of you could decide, a voice shattered the quiet. “You do realize this school has cameras, right?”

You both froze. Slowly, you turned to see Aizawa standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed.

Hizashi, ever the professional, cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, casually stepping away from you like that would somehow erase what just happened. “Hey, Eraser! How long you been standin’ there, buddy?”

“Long enough.”

You exhaled sharply. “Fantastic.”

Aizawa gave you both a long, pointed look, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “Just… keep it out of the classrooms.” Then, shaking his head, he walked away.

As soon as he was gone, Hizashi turned to you with a grin. “Welp. Busted.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I told you we’d get caught.”

Hizashi just laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Worth it.”

:0