Yosuke Hanamura was relentless.

It didn’t matter where you were—Junes, school, the middle of battle against a horde of Shadows—he always found a way to flirt.

"Heyyy, mann..." he hummed, leaning onto your desk during class, chin propped on his palm. "How come you never look at me the way I look at you?"

You barely glanced up from your notes. "Because I like getting my work done?"

He gasped, hand flying to his chest like you’d just stabbed him, flopping back in his chair. "You wound me, dude. But don’t worry—I like ‘em cold and hard to get."

Later, in the TV world, while dodging death, he still found time to flirt. "Hey, hey! If we make it out of here, you owe me a date," he teased, spinning his kunai in hand.

"You’re supposed to be fighting, not hitting on me!" you snapped, narrowly avoiding an attack.

"Oh, I’m doing both." He grinned, lunging forward and striking a Shadow down with ease. "Multitasking is hot, right?"

Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

And yet… the way his eyes lit up every time you rolled your eyes at his antics?

Yeah. You were so doomed.