No One:

THIS IS SO REAL OMG 😱

Sanji Vinsmoke x Reader

𓊝﹏ All Too Well 𓊝﹏

blab blah blah I see him and suddenly im dumb

masterlist

SYNOPSIS: don’t you hate when your woman who is not your woman get fed up with you so your woman who’s not your woman goes and take matters into her own hands.

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖ You strolled through a lively port town with Sanji, the afternoon sun warming your skin as the scent of fresh bread and spices drifted through the air. He was, as always, a step ahead, effortlessly weaving through the crowd with you trailing behind.

Despite the reason for this trip to restock the ship’s food supplies Sanji seemed to treat it as a personal mission to chat with every woman who so much as glanced his way. It was nothing new, really. Every compliment, every declaration of love, every swooning reaction from the ladies it was all part of who he was.

But damn, was it annoying sometimes.

“Sanji,” you called, catching up to him as he leaned over a stall, grinning at the vendor a particularly pretty woman selling fresh herbs. “Are we actually shopping, or are you just collecting plans for tonight ?”

He turned to you with that signature charm. “What, love? Are you getting jealous? My love you’re always at the top of my list” His smirk was teasing, playful, but something about the way he said it made your stomach twist.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Not in the slightest. Just wondering if I should be carrying all these bags myself while you’re busy.”

Sanji straightened immediately. “I would never let a lady carry heavy bags in my presence!” He took them from your arms with ease, but before you could feel triumphant, he turned back to the vendor and gently took her hand. “Forgive me, mademoiselle, duty calls. But know that your beauty is as fresh as your basil.”

You clenched your jaw. That was it.

Without a word, you pivoted on your heel and strolled off into the bustling crowd, leaving him behind. You didn’t need to deal with this right now.

You made your way to a nearby fruit stall, inspecting the selection when a voice interrupted. “You seem like you have good taste,” a smooth voice said.

You glanced up to see a man tall, rugged, with a confident smile. He gestured toward the apples. “Which one would you recommend?”

You hummed thoughtfully, picking up a ripe one and handing it to him with a slight tilt of your head. “This one.”

He took it, fingers brushing yours. “Good choice. Maybe you should stick around and help me shop.”

You chuckled, more amused than anything, but before you could respond, a familiar presence appeared beside you.

Sanji.

The air shifted instantly. His easygoing charm was still there, but his stance was different subtle but firm. “Ah, my dear, there you are.” His hand found the small of your back, light but undeniably possessive. “I was worried when you ran off.”

The man’s gaze flickered between you two. “You two together?”

Sanji smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Something like that.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his tone, but you said nothing. You usually just let it play out, enjoying the rare sight of Sanji stewing in his own jealousy.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, no, we’re not together.”

Sanji’s hand, which had been resting lightly against your back, lifted ever so slightly before dropping entirely.

The man smirked, clearly pleased with the answer. “That so?” He took a bite of the apple you’d chosen for him, eyes flickering over you with interest. “Then maybe”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s free to flirt with whoever she wants,” Sanji cut in, voice sharp with something unreadable. “don’t let me stop you”

You turned to him with an unimpressed look. “Oh? You suddenly have a problem with that?”

His smile was still there, but it was forced now, tight at the edges. “Of course not, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, but there was an edge to his voice, a tension in his stance.

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Then piss off, Sanji. Thought you had some more lovely ladies to chase after.”

Sanji’s eyebrow twitched. His whole demeanor shifted still composed, still that smooth talking flirt, but now there was something else lurking underneath. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling before flashing you a lazy smirk. “Fine. Do whatever you want, gorgeous.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, hands in his pockets, looking every bit as confident as always. But you saw it the tightness in his shoulders, the way his footsteps were just a little too heavy.

Good. Let him stew in it for a change.

You turned back to the guy, flashing a charming smile of your own. “Now, where were we?”

But even as you continued talking, a lingering heat stayed on your skin the memory of Sanji’s touch, his lingering gaze, and the way his voice had dropped just slightly when he called you gorgeous.

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖

You continued chatting with the man, picking out a few more items for your collection, and although he was polite and engaging, your thoughts kept drifting back to Sanji. The way his hand had hovered at your back, the little flicker of jealousy in his eyes, the forced smoothness in his voice it was all so familiar, you felt it all too well and yet it made you feel strangely unsettled.

As the day passed, the random guy proved to be an easy companion, offering good suggestions for what to buy and being genuinely considerate when it came to picking out fresh produce and spices. He was easy to talk to, and the lighthearted banter between you two made the errands almost feel like a casual date. But every so often, you’d glance at the bags you were carrying, noticing that they were getting heavier as you loaded up, and that faint tug of regret would sneak in.

You missed the way Sanji always insisted on carrying your bags, even if it was over the top, and how he’d make sure you didn’t have to lift a finger when it came to food shopping, the way he’d make it fun with jokes, teasing, and making you feel like the only one in the world who mattered.

It wasn’t that this guy was bad company it was just… different. There was no shared bond, no shared history, no special moments where the two of you made meals together or laughed over burned rice or an over salted stew. It was a nice day, but it wasn’t the same as being with Sanji.

After a few more minutes, you noticed the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky. The port town was starting to empty out, and you realized you should probably start heading back to the ship. “I think I’ve got everything I need,” you said, your smile warm but thoughtful. “I should be getting back.”

The man nodded, giving you a polite smile. “Of course, I won’t keep you. Thanks for the company today it was nice to meet you.”

You waved it off, feeling the first pang of regret. “It was fun. Take care.”

Turning to leave, you started heading back to the dock, your steps a little slower than before. It felt like a quiet, pleasant day, but there was a knot in your chest. It was the first time you’d felt this way in a while like you were missing something, or maybe someone.

As you walked, your thoughts returned to Sanji again, to the way his voice had softened just slightly when he’d called you “gorgeous” before walking off. you’d find him later, and you could tell him exactly how much you missed his presence, his playful teasing, and the way he made everything feel like it had purpose.

But for now, you simply carried the bags of fresh food back to the ship, the smell of it reminding you of those quiet moments in the kitchen, when you two would bond over cooking together. It was a kind of peace you didn’t want to give up.

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖

You climbed up the gangplank of the Sunny, arms full with bags of fresh produce and dry goods. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting warm golden hues over the ship. You had managed to grab most of the things on the list hopefully, Sanji had taken care of the rest. Knowing him, he probably had.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders. The encounter in town still lingered in your mind, but you shook it off. Whatever. If Sanji wanted to act like a flirt one minute and get possessive the next, that was his problem.

Just as you were stepping onto the deck, a hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you to the side.

“Hey what the”

You turned to see Nami, her sharp eyes scanning your face like she was trying to read your thoughts.

“Okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “What the hell happened between you and Sanji?”

Your brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Nami gave you an unimpressed look. “Oh, don’t even try that with me,” she huffed. “Sanji came back before you, dumped the supplies in the kitchen, and has been stomping around ever since. He’s barely said a word, hasn’t flirted with a single woman on board, and even turned down Robin when she asked for tea.”

You blinked. He turned down Robin?

Nami leaned in slightly. “So I’ll ask again what happened?”

You clicked your tongue, shifting your weight. “Nothing. We just… went shopping, got separated, and that’s it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You said that way too vaguely.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Look, I just got tired of his bullshit, alright? One minute he’s all over me, the next he’s flirting with some random girl, then when I start talking to someone, he’s got a problem with it? I’m not dealing with that.”

Nami’s lips twitched slightly like she wanted to smirk but was holding back. “So you made him jealous.”

“I wasn’t trying to make him jealous,” you muttered. “I just had enough of him acting like I’m special one second and then running off to the next girl the moment I blink.”

Nami hummed, clearly enjoying this. “Well, whatever you did, it worked. I haven’t seen him this grumpy in ages.” She smirked, giving you a knowing look. “So… what now?”

You hesitated. You weren’t really sure. Did you want to clear the air? Did you want to keep making him stew in it?

Before you could answer, a familiar voice called out from the kitchen.

“Oi!” Sanji’s voice was sharp, impatient. “If you’re done gossiping, some of us still have a ship to cook for!”

You and Nami exchanged glances.

“Yep,” she said, grinning. “You definitely got to him.” immediately both you and nami run to bring the bags to him

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖

Dinner on the Sunny was as usual a lively affair laughter, conversation, and the clatter of dishes filling the air as everyone enjoyed Sanji’s cooking.

But tonight?

Tonight, there was an unmistakable tension radiating from the cook.

Sanji moved through the kitchen and dining area with his usual grace, but his movements were stiff, his usual flirtatious remarks absent. He set plates down with a little too much force, his jaw tight as he worked in silence.

“Oi, Sanji, what’s with the attitude?” Zoro grumbled, eyeing him over his plate. “You got your ass kicked in town or somethin’?”

Sanji shot him a glare. “Shut it, mosshead.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow but smirked knowingly, clearly enjoying whatever was going on.

You, on the other hand, kept your focus on your plate, trying not to let your own amusement show. So he’s still sulking, huh?

Across the table, Nami sent you a quick glance before leaning back with a satisfied smile. “Dinner’s great, Sanji,” she said, clearly baiting him. “It’s almost like you channeled all your pent up frustration into it.”

Sanji’s eyebrow twitched, but he forced a smile. “Glad you like it, Nami.”

You caught the way his gaze flickered toward you just for a second before he turned away and busied himself at the stove.

Robin, ever perceptive, let out a soft hum. “It’s rare to see our dear cook so tense. I wonder what could’ve caused it.”

Luffy, oblivious as always, just grinned as he stuffed his face. “As long as he keeps cooking, who cares?”

Sanji ignored them all, but the way he gripped the edge of the counter told you everything.

Oh, he was definitely still stewing over what happened in town.

⊹ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ˖

With dinner finished and everyone helping to clean up, the tension lingering around Sanji was still very present. He scrubbed a pan with more force than necessary, his jaw tight, his usual smooth demeanor buried under whatever storm was brewing in his head.

You couldn’t help it. Seeing him like this so obviously riled up was just too entertaining to ignore.

So, you casually leaned against the counter beside him, watching as he worked. “You know,” you mused, “for someone who flirts like it’s his life’s mission, you sure get pissy when the tables turn.”

Sanji’s scrubbing stopped.

Slowly, he turned his head, giving you a side eye that could probably set something on fire. “Oh?” he said, voice deceptively calm. “And what exactly are you implying, sweetheart?”

You smirked. “I’m just saying… for someone who was practically jumping from one woman to another earlier, you got awfully moody when I talked to someone else.”

Sanji let out a sharp exhale, setting the pan down a little harder than necessary. He turned to you fully, leaning in just slightly, his presence radiating something different something charged.

“You think I’m jealous?” His voice was low, controlled, but you could see the way his fingers curled against the counter, how his eyes darkened just a little.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well, you have been sulking all evening.”

Sanji huffed out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Tch. You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” you teased, stepping just a little closer, “you still haven’t denied it.”

His jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw something flicker across his face something raw, something real. But just as quickly, he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Whatever,” he muttered, grabbing another dish to wash. “Go flirt with your little market boy if that’s what you want.”

You grinned. “Ohhh, so you are jealous.”

His grip tightened on the plate. “I’m not” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply before turning his glare on you. “Go away.”

You laughed, thoroughly enjoying this. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. It’s fun watching you try not to combust.”

Sanji shot you one last glare before turning back to the dishes, muttering something under his breath. But even with his back to you, you could see it the slight redness at the tips of his ears.

Oh yeah. You definitely had him right where you wanted him.

You watched him for a moment, enjoying the way his shoulders were tense, his hands working the dishes with a little too much force. It was rare to see Sanji like this off balance, rattled.

And you weren’t done playing with him just yet.

Stepping closer, you reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him down to your height before he could react.

Sanji barely had time to blink before your lips were near his ear, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

“You know,” you murmured, “for someone who claims to be a gentleman, you’re not acting very chivalrous right now.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t move, frozen in place.

“I did it on purpose,” you admitted, your voice soft but smug. “I wanted to make you jealous.”

Sanji’s fingers twitched where they gripped the counter, but he still didn’t say a word.

Smirking, you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes stormy, intense, filled with something unreadable. And before he could say anything, you leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek.

You felt his body tense beneath your touch, his breath hitch once more.

Then, just as quickly, you let go, stepping back and flashing him a knowing smile.

“Thanks for dinner, Sanji,” you said casually,

you turned on your heel and walked away, feeling the weight of his stare burning into your back.

And for once, Sanji was the one left speechless.

You paused just before stepping out of the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder with a smirk. Sanji still hadn’t moved, his hands gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His expression was unreadable, his lips slightly parted like he wanted to say something but nothing came out.

Perfect.

“Oh, by the way,” you added, tilting your head just enough to watch his reaction, “I think I’ll go hang out with Zoro for a bit. At least he’ll give me some attention.”

Sanji twitched.

His eye visibly twitched.

The sheer offense that flashed across his face was priceless.

His mouth opened, then closed, as if he was scrambling for a comeback but all he could do was let out a sharp, frustrated exhale through his nose.

You almost burst out laughing right then and there. Instead, you gave him one last wink before disappearing down the hall, leaving him stewing in his jealousy.

Y/n: “Oh, don’t mind me, Sanji. I’ll just keep teasing you until you get all worked up, but I’m sure you’re completely unaffected, right?”

Sunday HSR X Reader

꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ Get used to it ꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱

masterlist

part 2

a small drabble with him as a passenger of the astral express…… and march being a fangirl

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ The Astral Express gym wasn’t exactly high tech, but it had everything you needed: open space, training mats, and just enough echo to make your footsteps sound cooler than they actually were. Sunday stood on the mat already, stretching his arms slowly. He was always composed. polished words, a little distant but never unfriendly. A recent addition to the Express, still settling in. You figured sparring would be a good way to break the ice. Or, at the very least, make him sweat a little.

“You ever sparred before?” you asked, rolling your shoulders as you stepped onto the mat across from him.

“Once or twice,” Sunday replied, giving you a look that was polite. “I assume you’ve done this more than that.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, a bit. We do it sometimes, just to stay sharp. Helps keep my mind quiet too.”

That made him pause for a moment. “I can understand that.” There was a brief stretch of silence as you both settled into your stances. You smiled.

“Alright. Light spar. First to three taps?”

“Fair enough.”

Then you moved. Sunday was careful. Precise. He didn’t rush or overstep, but you could tell he was reading you watching how you shifted your weight, how fast you reacted. You responded in kind, your movements smooth and quick, not showy like usual. This wasn’t about flair. It was about rhythm, connection, learning someone without needing words. The first tap came when you managed to slip behind him and brush his shoulder. He looked surprised. The second came quickly after his palm barely grazing your side as he dodged your next strike.

It was fun. Quietly fun.

Somewhere in the middle of the third round, things shifted. You both moved at the same time your foot angled to pivot, his shifting forward for a counter. It wasn’t anything dramatic, no wild kick or spin, just a split second misstep.

You felt your foot catch his. His arm moved quickly, instinctively reaching to steady you. Too late. Your balance tipped forward, his backward, and gravity did the rest.

The two of you landed with a dull thud on the mat. For a second, neither of you said anything. You opened your eyes to find yourself sprawled over him, chest pressing lightly against his, palms braced on either side of his shoulders. His arm was still around your waist where he’d tried to catch you.

Your faces were close. Close enough to count the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes. Close enough that his breath, warm and even, brushed against your cheek.

“Oh.” The sound escaped before you could help it. Not exactly graceful.

Sunday’s eyes didn’t move away from yours. His expression wasn’t annoyed, or embarrassed. If anything, he looked… thoughtful. Still. Like he wasn’t sure what to make of the moment either. You felt the weight of the silence more than the fall.

“I, uh” You shifted slightly, meaning to push yourself up, but your hand slipped against the mat, and you instinctively leaned closer to steady yourself. Now your nose almost touched his.

His hand, still on your back, tensed faintly just a twitch. But he didn’t move it. You laughed under your breath, a little breathless. “This probably looks worse than it is.”

“Maybe,” Sunday said, voice low, not quite smiling but not pulling away either. “But I’m not complaining.”

That made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him again, There was something softer in his face now. you realized you weren’t in a rush to get up. Not yet.

“…You okay?” you asked, quieter this time.

He nodded once. “You?”

You nodded too, eyes not leaving his. “Yeah.”

Another beat passed. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing under your hands. Not hurried. Just… calm. You slowly pushed yourself up and off of him, offering your hand once you were upright. He took it without hesitation. His fingers were warm.

Back on his feet, Sunday brushed some dust off his sleeve, but his eyes lingered on you longer than before. There was nothing more to say right then. So he just smiled and walked away.

“God I need a cold shower after that”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Turns out it wasn’t a cold shower but nevertheless, a shower. The steam from your shower still clung to your skin as you stepped into the parlor car, toweling your damp hair with one hand, dressed in your usual cozy nightwear. You’d taken your time lingering under the hot water, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled in your chest after the spar with Sunday.

It was the way he looked at you. Still. Quiet. And how you hadn’t wanted to move. You exhaled, trying to shove the memory aside. Maybe it was just adrenaline. Heat of the moment stuff. Totally normal when you faceplant into someone’s lap. Right?

As you rounded the corner into the parlor car, voices floated up from the seating area. You paused half curious, half wary.

“…I’m telling you,” came March’s unmistakable whisper. “They were on top of each other. Like, full on dramatic slow motion fall. And neither of them moved for a good ten seconds. It was so weirdly quiet. I thought they were gonna kiss.”

Your stomach dropped. Your face lit up like a reactor core.

“March.” That was Dan Heng. His tone had that deadpan flatness that meant you’re being ridiculous again.

“No, I’m serious!” March hissed. “It was intense. They were looking at each other like… like in one of those cheesy holo dramas. And she totally forgot I was there. I had to back out slowly like I was interrupting something.”

“Maybe you were,” Caelus muttered under his breath.

“EXACTLY,” March said. “I mean, I always thought something might happen, but not this soon. And with Sunday? He’s like… all elegant and mysterious”

“I heard that.”

Three heads whipped around at once. You stood in the doorway, arms crossed, still towel drying your hair, blinking at them like you’d just caught them stealing cookies.

March squeaked and jumped three inches off the couch. “You! When did you get there?!”

“Long enough,” you said flatly, stepping fully into the car. “Long enough to hear my public execution.”

March scrambled to explain herself, hands flailing. “No no no! It wasn’t an execution, it was it was a friendly dramatic retelling! Like bedtime gossip!”

You stared at her. Dan Heng looked like he was rethinking every decision that led him to this moment. Caelus was trying very hard not to laugh.

You pointed at March. “Next time, announce the playbill if you’re gonna perform my personal life in three acts.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” March said, now clutching a cushion to her face. “Honestly, I thought it was kind of cute!”

“March.”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll stop talking!”

You plopped down into the seat beside her, stealing the cushion from her arms to bury your face in it.

“I hate everything,” came your muffled voice.

Dan Heng finally looked up from his book. “So… did anything actually happen?”

You didn’t answer. When you pulled the pillow away, your face was still pink. You shrugged. You slumped into the seat and closed your eyes.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You walked along the glowing path of the new planet’s market district, your boots clicking softly against the polished stone. Lanterns floated above the crowd, casting a warm shimmer over everything, and strange alien wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze. It was one of the calmer stops for the Astral Express no explosions, no urgent missions. Just exploration, some research, and a little breathing room.

You sipped your drink a fizzy, spiced thing with a color that probably wasn’t natural and hummed to yourself as you trailed behind March and Caelus. They were arguing about the best souvenir to bring back for Pom–Pom.

You lingered by a street vendor selling constellation shaped pastries when a man tall, smug, and clearly very into himself sidled up beside you.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said, his tone low and confident, like he thought he was the main character in a romance drama.

You blinked, startled. “I’m uh, I’m good, thanks.”

But he didn’t get the hint. He smiled wider, stepping just a little closer. “You sure? Someone like you shouldn’t spend a night like this alone. I know a place nearby quiet, private. Just you and me, maybe some music”

“Wow,” you interrupted, trying to laugh it off. “That’s… forward.”

“Life’s short,” he replied smoothly. “Why waste time pretending?”

You took a step back, now officially uncomfortable. “Really, I’m not interested”

“She’s not.”

The voice came from behind you, calm and steady. Sunday. You turned your head just as he stepped into view, his hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable but voice just sharp enough to cut tension.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he added casually. “She’s not into that sort of thing.”

Your eyes widened. Girlfriend? Oh.

The guy blinked, his confidence faltering. “Oh I didn’t realize…”

“Now you do,” Sunday said, still polite, still calm. “You can move along.”

The man muttered something under his breath and walked off, melting into the crowd like smoke.

You exhaled slowly. “Okay. That was…”

“Uncomfortable,” Sunday finished for you, tilting his head slightly. “He wasn’t taking the hint.”

“No kidding,” you muttered. Then, with a faint smile, “Thanks for the save.”

He looked at you, eyes softening just a little. “You looked like you needed one.”

You nodded. “I did. But also ‘girlfriend?’ Really?”

“Seemed effective,” he replied without missing a beat. “Was I wrong to assume you wouldn’t want to go home with a stranger tonight?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, definitely not wrong. Just… caught me off guard.”

He gave a small shrug. “You can correct the record if you want.”

You looked at him, thoughtful now. The lantern light played against the sharp lines of his face, but his gaze was gentle, open.

“Nah,” you said, voice light. “Let them think I’ve got someone.”

Sunday gave the smallest smile. And then, almost too quiet to hear. “Maybe someday they’ll be right.”

You turned to him but he was already walking ahead, hands still in his pockets, calm as ever. You blinked. Then grinned.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

March wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not really. She had just been browsing one of the cute trinket stalls on the edge of the plaza admiring some heart shaped glass charms when she heard your voice from the next row over. You sounded… awkward. Uncomfortable.

Curious, March peeked around the corner, just in time to see some local guy lean in too close to you. His tone was oily, confident in that blech kind of way that made her want to throw a glowing pebble at his head. You were clearly trying to shake him off.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

March’s soul left her body.

Sunday’s voice was smooth and even, not threatening, but with that finality that made the creepy guy instantly freeze. He stepped up beside you with this casual calm, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable but there was no doubt in his tone.

“She’s not into that sort of thing,” he added coolly. “You can move along.”

The guy mumbled something and slinked away. March’s brain started loding the spinny ball of death.

Girlfriend? GIRLFRIEND?!

She didn’t even mean to gasp aloud, but it happened. Thankfully, no one heard. She ducked back behind the trinket stall, crouching like she was dodging a security drone. Her heart thumped against her ribs. When she peeked again, you were talking to Sunday, flustered and blushing. He stood there like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just set the local rumor mill on fire with one casual sentence.

March didn’t wait another second. She took off sprinting.

“I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.”

Caelus and Dan Heng both jumped in their seats as March burst into the tea shop, nearly knocking over a decorative lantern in her haste.

Dan Heng put down his cup with a sigh. “Let me guess.”

“No no guessing. Just listen.” March bent over the table, panting dramatically. “Sunday just called her his girlfriend. To a random guy. Who was hitting on her.”

Caelus blinked. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me! He said it without hesitation., ‘She’s my girlfriend.’ Boom. IT WAS SO KNIGHT IN SHINNING ARMOUR.”

Dan Heng raised an eyebrow. “And she didn’t correct him?”

“Not at all! She blushed! She just stood there blushing!”

Caelus slowly grinned. “Huh. I thought we were still in the pining phase.”

“That’s what I thought too!” March wailed, dropping into a seat across from them. “I thought I had time to mentally prepare for the will they won’t they!”

Dan Heng leaned back. “Maybe they skipped to the good part.”

March glared. “This is a story, Dan Heng. There’s a structure.”

Caelus sipped his tea again, amused. “BUT LIKE he did that just to protect her. Im sure we would do the same thing”

“Shhhhh are either of you wanting to marry her and want to look longingly at her.”

Dan Heng muttered, “I don’t think that that matters when you’re watching out for someone”

March just pointed toward the plaza. “Mark my words. Those losers are happening .”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

March 7 lay curled beneath her mountain of pastel blankets, one leg sticking out, mouth slightly open, a bubble of drool forming with every breath. She looked… innocent. Unaware. Vulnerable.

Perfect. You stood at the edge of her bed, Caelus beside you, both cloaked in shadows and silence. “She sleeps like someone who hasn’t committed crimes,” you whispered.

“She sleeping like she didn’t fully diss Dan Heng and I for just existing,” Caelus murmured, smirking. “She called me a coward yesterday for not pushing you two together faster.”

You narrowed your eyes at the blissfully unaware March, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Your time of reckoning is over.”

And then, like a flash of divine vengeance, the pillow came down. WHUMP. March jolted awake with a squeak, arms flailing, hair a tangled mess. “WHAT WHO”

“JUSTICE,” you declared, striking again, this time dual wielding pillows like a vengeful sleep deprived warlord. “FOR PEACEFUL EXISTENCE.”

“TRAITOR!” March screamed as another pillow hit her in the face, this one clearly Caelus’s, who was now leaning against her dresser and howling with laughter. “You were supposed to be neutral!”

“I was never neutral,” Caelus grinned, tossing another pillow into your hands like a loyal arms dealer. “I just picked the winning side.”

“You picked VIOLENCE!”

“You picked CRAZY

Pillows flew. March kicked off her covers and dove behind the mountain of backup pillows she had an arsenal you knew too well. She emerged like a pink haired general, dual wielding plushies shaped like various alien mascots.

“I DID NOTHING TO YOU CAELUS!” she shouted, flinging one at Caelus’s head. “I THOUGHT YOU SHIPPED THIS LIKE ME! AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!”

“I WAS trying to make it happen, March!” you cackled, blocking her throw with your arm. “but you’re crazy lady.”

“Because SOMEBODY has to!”

The room became a flurry of feathers and yells, the floor littered with fabric casualties. March screamed something about “romantic sabotage” while Caelus used a star shaped cushion as a shield and tried not to collapse from laughter. Eventually, panting and half buried beneath a pile of glittery pillows, March flopped onto her back.

“This isn’t over,” she wheezed. “You might’ve won the battle…”

You sat on the floor, leaning against her bedframe, heart light and cheeks aching from laughing too hard. March peeked at you with a sleepy, dramatic glare.

“Just admit you like him,” she muttered.

You grinned. “No comment.”

Caelus snorted. “So that’s a yes.”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The corridor was quiet, save for the distant, muffled thumps echoing from March’s room. Sunday padded down the hall in soft slippers, wrapped in a navy blue pajama set that still looked oddly regal despite the sleepy looseness of it. The collar was slightly askew, and his curls had lost their typical styling, falling gently across his forehead. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him toward the commotion curiosity, perhaps. Or maybe instinct.

The door to March’s room was open just enough. And there you were. Mid laugh, caught in the middle of a pillow war that had clearly escalated. Caelus was ducked behind a wardrobe like it was a bunker, March stood on her bed like a self declared queen of feathers, and you glorious in your pyjamas were twirling a pillow like a blade of justice.

Feathers floated through the air like snowflakes. Sunday didn’t move. He leaned against the doorframe, half in shadow, just out of your view. And he watched. And he smiled. He’d grown up in rooms where laughter felt rehearsed. Where joy was reserved for ceremonies, and everything had meaning, even the silence. He had known peace, yes but the kind that was still, stagnant. Like a pond reflecting stars instead of the sky itself.

Robin had always tried to shield him. Kept him wrapped in the comfort of his ideals, gave him a dream so beautiful he forgot what real light looked like. Messy, loud, brilliant life. The way your hair stuck to your cheek with sweat, the way your eyes gleamed as you dodged March’s wild throw, the unfiltered, unashamed joy in your voice as you shouted something absurd about “pillow fueled vengeance.”

He’d never seen experienced this feeling. Sunday’s heart thudded quietly in his chest, a rhythm that didn’t belong to the Family or any script he’d ever memorized. He liked that you weren’t afraid to be ridiculous. That you laughed freely. That you made others laugh.

He liked that you didn’t seem to carry your burdens in front of him not because they didn’t exist, but because you chose, for a moment, not to let them define you. he liked that when you were with your friends like this, you looked entirely untouchable. Unreachable. He wanted to reach anyway. But he stayed still. Let the moment stay yours. A feather floated past his cheek. Sunday blinked once, then quietly turned, retreating back down the hall before anyone noticed. He didn’t need to be in that moment to be part of it.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Feathers still drifted in your hair. Your arms ached from swinging pillows like weapons of mass destruction. March had declared herself “the rightful queen of shipwide shipping” before collapsing in a pile of her own making, and Caelus was last seen crawling down the hallway muttering something about betrayal and glitter.

You didn’t make it to your room. Your legs had carried you halfway down the train, and then… gave up. The Parlor Car welcomed you with soft lights and the hush of starlight outside the window. It was quiet here. Peaceful. And most importantly there was a couch.

You barely noticed the figure already sitting there. You just dropped into the opposite end of the long velvet seat with a graceless thump, curling onto your side and sighing like the soul had been knocked out of you. Your hair stuck to your forehead. Your shirt was rumpled. You didn’t even bother taking off your socks.

Sleep claimed you within seconds. Sunday, seated near the center of the couch with a book resting gently across his lap, blinked slowly. He hadn’t even heard you come in. His eyes drifted from the page, tracing over your sleeping form. The way your chest rose and fell. The faint smudge of pillow war aftermath still clinging to your cheek. One of your shoes had fallen off somewhere on the way in your foot dangled off the edge of the couch, sock half hanging.

You looked peaceful. He closed the book without a sound. He stood, quietly padded over to the small linen cabinet near the entrance of the car, and pulled out a soft, navy blue blanket. One of Himeko’s spares, likely. He unfolded it carefully, draped it over you from shoulders to toes, and adjusted it so it wouldn’t slip off during the night.

Then he knelt beside the couch, brushing a stray feather from your hair with a light, careful touch. in a voice only the walls heard, he murmured,

“Sleep well. May your dreams never be burdens.”

He lingered for a moment, hand resting just beside your shoulder. Then he moved to the nearby armchair, sat down, and tilted his head toward the stars just outside the wide train windows. His book remained unopened in his lap, forgotten. He didn’t need it. Tonight, the soft rhythm of your breathing was enough.

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

Present Mic | Hizashi Yamada

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Feedback Loop

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Irresistible

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Mid Life Crisis

𓇢𓆸☾☼Fighting the Pro

𓇢𓆸☾☼MOMMY?!?

𓇢𓆸☾☼Off The Record

Dabi | Touya Todoroki

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Run Boy Run

𓇢𓆸☾☼ I Am Here

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Knowing How to Find Them

Hawks | Keigo Takami

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Predetermined

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Let Me Be Your Wings

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Smoke and Feathers

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Drabble #1

Lemillion | Mirio Togata

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Sunshine Boy

Cellophane | Sero Hanta

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Pro Hero- SpiderMan

Rody Soul

𓇢𓆸☾☼ You Matter to Me

Bruh one of my fav authors is a pedo

Why did you gotta talk to kids that way man...

I’ve been considering posting Chapter 2 elsewhere since, as a standalone, it wouldn’t make much sense. I might still post it here, but I need to finish a few things first.

To summarize, the next chapter focuses on you and your bond with your class—composed of characters I created solely for plot purposes. Then, young Mirio and Tamaki are introduced (neither of them are love interests). None of the original characters I made will be permanent; they exist only for this chapter. However, without that context, the chapter might not feel as strong.

I already have it drafted here, and I’d appreciate the support. But unless you’re committed to reading future chapters, it might feel a LITTLE out of place.

Keigo Takami / Hawks X Reader (eventually various X reader but that’s if I decide to continue with the burst of inspiration)

If this isn’t that meaty for you…. THEY JUST MET LET THEM COOK

Summary: Small light banter for a first meeting between freshly debuted Hawks and an Isekai’d reader.

Basically after reading copious amounts of amazingly talented stories by amazingly talented writers. “DEPOLLUTE ME, GENTLE ANGEL” by @fallen-w1ngs and Changing History by SummerBlack on Quotev. With “depollute me” the author humanizes the pro hero from being just a symbol. Meanwhile with “Changing History” the author introduces an emotion more attuned to feeling real and how life isn’t just a cycle that is predetermined. So my dynamic of choice was you as the reader have already been thrown in this world for the first 18 years of your life. If you were put in this world why not do the expected? Become a hero. But if all things are fake why take anything seriously?

If you couldn’t gather from that, the reader and hawks will grow and learn that they have the ability to matter and deserve to feel like they belong. I don’t have a very serious style of writing but I do try! Maybe not my best but key emphasis on try! Today we delve into YOU! YOUR CHARACTER!

This was all made on my notes app while on vacation 😺

Word count: 4280 ish, (idk through editing I added some things)

A blur of red and gold emerged first, feathers catching the sunlight just before their owner stepped forward with an easy, lopsided grin. Hawks, the newly minted Pro, looked entirely unbothered by the attention, despite the sudden chorus of excited shouts.

“Hawks! Can you sign this?”

“Dude, your debut fight was insane!”

“Picture, please?”

He laughed, ruffling his windswept hair as he glanced over the eager faces.

“Man, you guys really know how to make a guy feel welcome,” he said, grabbing the nearest pen. “Alright, line up nice and neat, yeah? I’ve got places to be, but I can’t just leave my awesome fans hanging.”

As he signed posters, notebooks, and even the occasional wing-shaped keychain, Hawks kept that signature smirk in place. He’d always known he’d make it this far—but seeing the real, tangible proof of it in the form of starstruck faces and excited voices?

Yeah, this was pretty damn cool.

As the crowd died down, Originally just going to walk away you thought about when would even be the next time you’d see him. Unfortunately since being thrown into this world, the whole concept of canon magnets for main characters was not even a concept in your life.

“You know, if you’re acting like this right out of the gate, I can’t even imagine how inflated your ego will get once you’re officially ranked among the top heroes.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I have no idea where you’re getting that impression.” You almost felt bad for taking away his moment. The disheveled blonde looked like he might’ve been having a sincere, heartfelt moment.

“It’s always the pretty boys with the massive egos,” you sighed dramatically, looking away. Seeing Hawks in all his glory had to come with a little entertainment, right?

He took a step back, eyeing your UA uniform as if sizing you up.

“Maybe the hostility’s coming from jealousy?”

“It’s the Icarus trope for me” you mutter

“Sorry?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes. “Oh nothing! You sure would think that.”

To be honest, you hadn’t meant to bump into him. You were just on your way home from school, with nothing more in mind than a nice nap. Being a third-year at UA in the most boring era of this universe really didn’t leave you with much to look forward to.

“I mean, looks like we’re heading in the same direction,” he said, curiosity creeping into his tone as he took another sip from his drink.

“You’re not wrong, but the flashy vibe you’re giving off? It’s almost alarming.”

He gave you a distraught look.

“Imagine this, I’m getting saved by—wait, what’s your name again?” Oh, it wouldn’t be impossible for actually knowing him. Sure, he had only debuted a few months ago and the crowd that just left that chanted his name every two seconds would be a sign for his name, but you couldn’t help it. In your past life, the sheer amount of content of the show you consumed meant you had to know him but better safe than sorry.

“Hawks,” he replied, deadpan, amusement flickering in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. In response he raised his brow

It probably looked like you were laughing at him, which, in a way, you kind of were. You remembered the draft photos of when his character was first being developed—back when they considered giving him an actual hawk head. The thought alone made you smile.

“Pro hero Hawks saves me, and the sheer massiveness of his ego completely blindsides me. I’m struck by how conventionally hot he is, and then I die in your arms. Yeah, not a good look for you.”

You sighed inwardly. All in all, you were probably born in the worst generation in the My Hero universe. You couldn’t even be part of the middle generation where you could’ve had the chance to work as a teacher with Aizawa and the rest of the crew. It was a possibility, sure, but it felt so far out of reach. And the idea of being around Present Mic—preferably with his hair down and you age-appropriate for him? That would’ve been a dream.

But here you were, a few years older than the main cast. Actually, you were the same age as Keigo. As much as you loved his character, he didn’t really become important until the fifth season. Which meant you had little to no relevance to the plot or any of the major characters. You couldn’t help but feel like you were stuck in some lame generation, unable to make an impact.

Why couldn’t any isekai story go right? You really felt like you’d lost the genetic lottery over and over again. You couldn’t have been born just a few years younger, so you could’ve at least had the chance to be around your other favorite sunshine-blonde character, Mirio. Not being his age had probably made you feel like you’d lost years of your life unknowingly.

“Maamaa, we just met, and you’ve already got a grudge against me?” He teased, giving you a playful frown.

Immediately it springs in your head that you’ve probably come off as a total asshole. Screw the curse of having an outside point of view. The fact of knowing none of this was real maybe gave a bad look on the outside.

You suddenly felt a wave of regret hit you, realizing how your words had come across. His playful tone, the teasing frown—everything made it clear he wasn’t offended, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had crossed a line. You opened your mouth, but your thoughts were tangled, and it took a moment to collect your words.

“Ah, look, I—” You hesitated, eyes darting away, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I get carried away, and—” You mentally cursed yourself for being so awkward. You hated how easily you could go from sarcastic to genuinely sorry in a second.

Hawks gave you an odd look, the smirk still there, though softer. “Hey, no worries. I get it.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could tell something about his tone had changed slightly. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood too, like you were.

“No, I’m serious,” you quickly added, glancing up at him, feeling the need to apologize properly. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve been here long enough to see how people get caught up in all the… hero stuff. And I didn’t want to be another person acting all starry-eyed over you just because you’re a pro hero, you know?” God you sounded pathetic. Maybe if you prayed to all might really hard it would go away.

Hawks studied you for a second, then nodded slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I get it. You don’t want to be one of those people who just worship the ground we fly on, huh?”

You sighed, relieved that he understood, but still uneasy. “Yeah... fly on. It’s just… this world, this universe… It’s all so… strange. I mean, I know you’re a big deal, and I respect that. But sometimes it’s hard to take things seriously when everything feels like it’s set in stone. To be so ‘MUCH’ all the time. Anyways I’m literally doing exactly what yours doing for a career so don’t take my words to heart. Heroes are kind of just people that help people and I’m like one or those people and by no means-” You paused, biting your lip.

There was an odd moment of silence before Hawks chuckled, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve said something ridiculous.

“You’re fine.” His tone was soft, genuine this time, as he took another step back, giving you space. “You’re not the first person to think I’m all ‘ego and feathers,’ but not everyone’s as honest about it as you are. So, props for that, I guess.” He tilted his head, his usual cocky grin returning, though it seemed more self-aware now. “But hey, if it helps, I do my best to keep my ego in check. It’s not as big as it looks.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond, but the words that came out were almost reflexive. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it, I guess. You’re going to be one of the top ten. I know it.”

Hawks laughed softly, the sound surprisingly genuine, and you found yourself relaxing a little. Maybe you hadn’t totally messed everything up. “You’re so sure about that? Well then fair enough. Just don’t expect me to give up my flashy style anytime soon. It’s a package deal.” He says that as if he doesn’t get In the top ten within a few months.

You could tell he wasn’t taking offense anymore, but you still felt like you needed to clear the air. “I mean, you’re doing your thing. I just—” You faltered, trying to find the right words, feeling like you were digging yourself into a hole. “I just didn’t want to be some random person making snide comments. You’re a pro hero, and I respect that.”

His eyes softened again, and there was an odd sincerity in his gaze. “Thanks. That means more than you know. You look about the same age as me so as you’re a pro as well, wouldn’t you know it you’ll be up there at the top, maybe we’ll have a hero rivalry” he smirks

“Ah yes the trials and tribulations of endeavour and all might persist in the bodies of 18 year old aspiring heroes” you pause for a moment thinking about it. You know that’s not too far from the original source material

“Well I’m not exactly a pro just yet, give me a few months and I’ll be there”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the awkwardness between you two slowly evaporating. It was strange, how you’d gone from a sarcastic comment to a brief but genuine moment of understanding. And yet, in a world where everything seemed so scripted, the fact that this had played out in such a way felt a little… surreal.

After a beat, Hawks stretched, giving you a wink. “Well, I should probably get going. Hero stuff, you know?” He shrugged, turning on his heel. “But hey, if you ever need a hand or just wanna throw some more sarcastic remarks my way, I’m not hard to find.”

You managed a small, half-smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flashed you one last grin before taking off, his wings spreading wide as he took to the sky, disappearing into the distance. You watched him go, still feeling that odd mixture of guilt and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Shaking your head, you turned and continued on your way home, feeling slightly lighter, despite the awkwardness. At least you hadn’t ruined everything completely. But, then again, in a world like this, there was always something new to look forward to. Maybe you’d even see Hawks again and maybe next time, you’d be a little better at handling it.

Or, you’d at least try to be.

In this world, reports of people with superpowers started popping up everywhere. No one really knew what was causing these Quirks. And before long, the supernatural became the new normal. Dreams became reality, and the world turned into a superhuman society, with 80% of the population possessing some sort of strange ability.

Blah, blah, blah. The world might sound impressive at first, but being dropped into a world where you know everyone’s futures? That kind of ruins the excitement. Save the fun stuff for when Izuku is supposed to take over

You’d think living in a world of superheroes would be a dream come true, but it felt more like playing a life simulator with a DLC attached.

‘Actually if any one had heard that thought, please smite me dead on the spot’

Maybe when you finally met Shigaraki, you two could bond over how lame your lives were.

————

The moment Hawks took off, disappearing into the sky with all the grace and flair of a man who knew exactly how cool he was, you were left standing there, alone in the middle of a busy street. You blinked a few times, processing the bizarre encounter, like a glitch in the matrix where you’d just met one of the to be top heroes, and somehow managed to be the awkward, sarcastic mess you were known for.

Oh god, you thought, did I just make myself look like an idiot?

The awkwardness of the moment hit you all at once, like a ton of bricks. Your brain replayed every word you’d said, every overly dramatic sigh, and every time you’d made some weird comment about his ego. I probably just ruined any chance of ever having a normal conversation with him ever again, you thought with a groan.

But, hey, at least you’d gotten one thing right: you had no idea how to not embarrass yourself in front of a pro hero. Progress, right?

Your feet shuffled along the sidewalk, your eyes fixed on the ground, just in case anyone noticed how ridiculously flustered you were. You didn’t even know where you were going at this point, your legs had basically decided to take you home, but your brain was still stuck on the fact that you’d just made a snide remark to one of the most famous people in the world. That was bound to come back to haunt you, right?

In the midst of your spiraling, a thought hit you like a slap to the face: What if he tells people?

No, no, no, no. Hawks wasn’t the type to hold grudges. He’d probably just chuckle about it with his equally cool friends and forget about it. Right?

… what if he tells Mirko. All you feel is dread

But still, the mental image of him, sitting around with his hero buddies, casually telling them about the weird girl who got all awkward and snarky when she met him, was enough to make you want to curl up in a hole and disappear for the next decade. I’m never leaving my house again, you thought, hands buried in your pockets. It’s safer this way.

As you trudged home, you passed by the same old buildings, the same street vendors, the same couple having a heated debate about the proper way to cook curry (which, honestly, you were kind of invested in now). It was the same old world. But now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were living in some kind of sitcom where you were the awkward side character. This is what I get for getting tossed into this universe, you thought, rolling your eyes at the universe itself. And why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be a sidekick by now?

You eventually reached your apartment building, doing your best to ignore the fact that you’d just been face-to-face with Hawks and didn’t manage to do anything remotely cool or competent. The elevator ride felt longer than it should’ve. It was like the universe itself was giving you a moment to reflect on your life choices. By the time you reached your door, you felt like you needed to apologize to the doorframe for even existing.

With a dramatic sigh, you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if you should’ve just said something normal like, “Hey, cool wings.” That’s it. Cool wings… nope absolutely not, move on, but no, you had to act like a nervous wreck who couldn’t even handle basic social interaction. Congratulations, you’re a disaster.

But as your mind started spiraling into self-loathing, you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. The whole situation had been so ridiculous, so out of place, that it was actually kind of funny. You’d just had a conversation with Hawks granted, it was a weird, awkward, almost cringeworthy conversation but still, a conversation! That was more than most people could say.

“Maybe I should just call it a day. Hide under the covers and pretend nothing happened.”

You threw your arms dramatically across your face as if the weight of your shame was too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, a tiny thought crept in: Hey, if I run into him again, maybe I won’t make a fool of myself next time.

Then again, you thought with a grin, Probably not.

At least tomorrow’s a new day, right? You could try to be normal then probably. Or at the very least, you could give yourself a good pep talk, like, “You got this, champ. Try not to make an idiot of yourself this time.”

As you lay there, wallowing in your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Because, in the end, this was just another bizarre chapter in your weird, barely-coherent life in the world of heroes. Maybe next time, you’d at least try to make a good first impression. Or maybe, just maybe, you’d accidentally land on your feet and make it out of another embarrassing moment unscathed.

Who knew? Anything was possible in this crazy universe. Well, except you being smooth. That was clearly out of the question.

————

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and as your classmates hurriedly packed their bags and ran out the door, you sat there, contemplating your life choices. Graduation was right around the corner, and while everyone else was excited about the future, you were just kind of… existing.

You were in your third year at UA, the very school that trained the next generation of Pro Heroes. But here you were, staring at your desk like it owed you money, with no idea what you were supposed to do next.

Let’s be real, everyone else had a purpose. Izuku? He was going to be the greatest hero of all time. All Might? He was the symbol of peace, the beacon of hope, and probably the only guy who could do a cartwheel and not look like a dad on a trampoline. Even Bakugo had a clear goal in mind: to be the best, which, considering his attitude, was more like a “do it or I’ll yell at you until you cry” kind of vibe.

But you? You were just here. You weren’t supposed to be in this world. Seriously, how did you even get here? One minute you were living your normal life, and the next you’re dropped into the middle of a world full of heroes, quirks, and crazy villains, but there’s no manual for how to fit in. It was like being cast in the world’s weirdest TV show and being told, “Yeah, just figure it out, you’ll be fine.”

And you were so fine. So fine, in fact, that you didn’t even know what the point of it all was. You had no grand dreams of becoming the next All Might or Deku. You weren’t even sure what your quirk was half the time, maybe you had an ability to be totally average? If so, congratulations, you were really nailing it.

“Look, you’re fine, you’re fine,” you muttered to yourself, giving the window a dramatic look. “You’ll graduate, become a hero, maybe stand by the snacks table at hero events, get a cool costume, the usual.”

You sighed, staring at the city below. Your classmates had their lives all planned out, while you had absolutely no clue what was happening. “Like, how do you even become a hero if you’re not, like, destined for greatness?” You asked, though you were fully aware the universe wasn’t going to answer. Or if it did, it would probably just laugh and say, “Sorry, you’re just here for filler content.”

You turned to the empty classroom, contemplating your entire existence for a moment. “Man, is this what it’s like to be a side character? ’Cause I really didn’t sign up for this. I was just trying to live my best life, and suddenly I’m here, trying to figure out if I should be saving kittens from trees or passing out flyers for charity events.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be that hero, the one who’s really good at handing out pamphlets at superhero conventions. You know, hero stuff. The job that’s always available but no one really talks about.”

You let out a half-hearted groan. “Ugh, I’m like a glorified intern in the superhero world. ‘Oh, sorry, your quirk is literally just being chill? Guess you’ll be a sidekick to the sidekicks!’”

But then it hit you: maybe that’s fine. Not every hero needs to be the big shot. Maybe your purpose was to just… exist. No huge fanfare, no dramatic showdowns with villains, just a random person who shows up at the right time to, like, hand out snacks or prevent a minor inconvenience. You could totally be that person! There’s a whole squad of heroes out there who are doing important stuff without anyone caring about them.

You snapped your fingers. “Wait a minute. Maybe this is my calling! I’ll be ‘The Human Buffer’. I’ll help all the heroes hand out protein bars, hold their coats while they go into battle, be that one person who’s just there to make sure they look good in their hero pose. Yeah, I could be that hero!”

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and strutted out of the classroom with newfound confidence. You might not have a big, world-saving destiny, but you would be the hero who was always there with the perfect snack after a long day of saving people. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a role that needed to be filled, and by golly, you were going to do it.

“Alright, world,” you said dramatically as you walked down the hallway. “You don’t need me to save the day, but I’ll be here when you need someone to tell you where the bathroom is during a fight. Hero work!”

As you passed your classmates, all talking about their big future plans, you couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe you weren’t meant to be the hero everyone else was, but you were still going to make your mark. Whether they needed an emotional support snack or someone to bring them a towel after they worked up a sweat, you’d be there.

And hey, you’d probably get a cool title too: The Most Average, Most Helpful Hero.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of being a hero. Who wouldn’t want to swoop in and save the day, right? But the thing was, you didn’t belong here. You didn’t have that spark that made someone destined to be a hero. You weren’t meant to exist in this world. You were more like an accidental extra, someone who wasn’t supposed to show up on the hero timeline but somehow did. And now you were just… waiting for your scene to end.

It wasn’t that you didn’t respect heroes, of course, you did! But watching everyone around you with their grand dreams and bright futures made you feel a bit like the odd one out. Even if you’re living in a year with just side characters. They had their roles, their destinies. Meanwhile, you were stuck in a universe where things were already set in stone. It was like showing up to a concert that was already halfway over and realizing you’re just gonna have to sit in the nosebleeds for the rest of the show.

Keigo had mentioned once that it was important for heroes to ease the worries of the people. Isn’t it paradoxical that his future words are the ones giving you a path. That they had to be more than just strong, they had to make people feel safe. And you’d never had any doubts about that philosophy. But how could you be that person when you didn’t even feel like you were supposed to be here in the first place? It felt like playing a game you didn’t know the rules to, in a world that wasn’t yours.

Sure, you were about to graduate from UA and technically become a Pro Hero, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were sort of stepping into a role that didn’t really have anything to do with you. You had no grand dreams of fighting side-by-side with All Might in his final battle. There were so any many risks and what if a simple butterfly effect made the villains win by you being here. Honestly, you’d probably end up being the hero who handed out flyers for charity events or stood at the front of the line for photos to be safe. Was that the kind of hero you wanted to be?

“Well, I guess I’ll be a hero of some kind,” you muttered, though it was more out of obligation than excitement. “But what does it even mean if I don’t have some grand purpose in all this?”

A little chuckle escaped your lips. This was ridiculous. Here you were, stressing over your place in a world that was literally made up. You were a character in a story that already had its plot laid out, and yet you were still acting like you had to be a main character. It was all just so absurd.

But you didn’t want to be that person someone who just complained about fate and waited for something to happen. You could still make a difference in small ways, right? Maybe not as the next All Might or Deku, but as someone who showed up when it mattered, who helped out in their own way. The world was full of side characters doing small but important things, why couldn’t you be one of them?

With a grin, you stood up and grabbed your bag, heading out of the classroom to join the rest of your classmates. Maybe you weren’t the protagonist of this story, but hey, you could still make your mark on it. A little self-awareness never hurt anyone, right? Besides, in a world full of heroes, sometimes it was enough just to be one even if you were doing it a little differently than everyone else.

LIKE FATHER LIKE SON

James Potter x Reader

WARNINGS: just fluff, FEM!R + use of Y/n, nonVoldemort!au, dilf!James + mamasboy!Harry being protective of their wife/mom and Y/n being done with them lol, Lucius and Draco Malfoy being Lucius and Draco Malfoy.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

"James Fleamont Potter, what is this?"

James looked up from his coffee cup and raised his head to look at you, seeing you waving a paper envelope in front of his eyes.

"A letter?" he asked ironically.

You nodded, placing it in front of his eyes on the table and crossing your arms.

"Uh-uh. And can you tell me who it was sent by?"

James focused his gaze on the elegant writing and logo printed on the envelope.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizard-

When he realized where it was coming from, James had to double check, not having realized the first time and almost spit the coffee on you.

"From Howgwarts?!" he exclaimed, turning sharply towards you.

You nodded.

"It's strange that they called us, they only do it when it's something serious" you murmured worriedly. "What if something happened to Harry?"

James raised his arm to untie your crossed arms and grab your hand.

"Why don't we read what it's about first, mh? Maybe we're just worrying about nothing" he asked, giving you an encouraging smile.

You slowly nodded and James opened the envelope, taking out the letter and reading it on his own first. When you noticed his expression drop, you realized that maybe it really was something serious.

"Oh crap..." he muttered.

"What? What does it say?"

You came up behind him to read the contents of the letter and felt a pang in your heart when you saw what it was about.

"Oh… Oh crap indeed"

When you and James arrived at Hogwarts, some students stared at you strangely but you ignored them and walked to the main door. As soon as you opened it, you were met by Professor McGonagall, who had an expression of concern on her face equal to yours.

"Oh, i'm glad you're here my dears" she said, advancing towards you.

"Minnie, what happened with Harry?" James asked.

"Is he okay?" you continued.

The woman alternated her gaze from you to him in silence for a couple of seconds and then let out a sigh.

"Follow me" she only said, then she turned and walked down the corridor. And the more you and James walked, the more you realized that the road you were on wasn't the one to Dumbledore's office, but the one that led to the hospital wing. You and James exchanged a worried look, but you didn't say anything.

After a few minutes you arrived at the door of the infirmary and before you could enter, Minerva turned to look at you.

"We don't usually call parents, but your presence has been explicitly requested... By Lucius Malfoy himself"

At hearing that name, James didn't help himself from making a groan and rolling his eyes, while you let out a breath through your nose. This was not good.

"Great" James said annoyed.

You placed a hand on his arm and then looked back at her.

"Professor can you tell us what happened, please?"

Minerva gave you a heartened smile. Unlike your husband who always called her by that nickname, you were always more formal towards her and she always appreciated that.

"I was told that Harry and Draco have been involved in an argument a bit… Rough" the woman said cautiously. "Well, they fought after the Quidditch match"

"What?!" you exclaimed.

"Who won?!" James said with hopeful eyes.

You and Minerva turned to look at him unimpressed. James chuckled sheepishly.

"Sorry, wrong question. Harry won, didn't he?"

Minerva ignored him, looking back at you and you rolled your eyes.

"Why is Lucius here?" you asked, crossing your arms.

The teacher let out a small sigh.

"It's nothing new that your sons don't get along, but this time Mr. Malfoy insisted on discussing this situation with the parents of the person who continues to mistreat their child"

"It's not Harry who mistreats him!" James said immediately, already feeling his soul heating up with anger. "It's that brat with gelled hair that keeps provoking him, but unlike Harry, he isn't capable of defending himself!"

"James" you called, trying to calm him down.

Minerva looked at you both with a sympathetic look. It was obvious that she also supported what James said, but as a teacher she had to try to be as neutral as possible and make both students understand that they were wrong. And then, it was better not to go against the Malfoys too much.

"If you want to go, they are waiting for you" the woman only said, indicating the door with a wave of her hand.

You glanced at James and without waiting for his permission, you threw open the door, rushing into the infirmary.

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry jumped from under the covers when he heard your voice echo throughout the hospital wing.

"Damn..." he cursed under his breath.

Hermione, who was sitting in a chair next to his bed, looked at him worriedly. Standing behind her, Ron looked between him and you, terrified.

"Uh-oh. I think your mother is angry, Harry" he muttered and Harry tried to slide under the sheets, as if to hide.

The three Gryffindors saw you advance towards them, followed by James. When you were close to the bed, Hermione stood up instinctively and both she and Ron stepped back, leaving Harry alone in your jaws.

You looked him up and down, crossing your arms and tapping your foot on the floor. Harry and James exchanged a look and as Harry tried to ask him for help with his eyes, not wanting to face your fury, James looked at him with a smirk that seemed to say "You're a goner, kid".

"Mom" he murmured. "I can explain"

"Oh, but i don't need explanations my dear, because i've already been told everything" you replied.

Harry looked down, staying silent and waiting for your next move. Until... With a sigh you leaned towards him and hugged him tightly, stroking his hair with one hand.

"I'm glad you're okay, darling" you murmured.

Harry felt taken aback, but when he looked at James and saw him smile tenderly, he realized there was nothing to worry about and returned the hug. You gave him a couple of kisses on the cheek and then you pulled away and sat next to him on the mattress, leaving the chair to Hermione.

Flick!

"Ah!"

Harry narrowed his eyes when you gave him a little flick on his forehead with your finger and James chuckled.

"That's because you got into a fight" you said in a fake stern tone, but still serious.

Harry nodded solemnly, while Ron and Hermione looked at him in relief. The worst was over.

"Harry" James then said, walking up behind you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "What happened with Malfoy?"

"Darling, we were worried when we got the letter" you continued, covering James' hand with yours. "We thought something serious had happened"

"It's all Malfoy's fault!" Ron exclaimed.

You and James turned to look at him.

"Yes, he was angry because the Slytherins lost the Quidditch match and he taunted Harry as usual" Hermione continued.

You let out a small sigh.

"That little boy will never learn, will he?" you murmured. "He's only good with words. Just like his father"

James looked back at Harry, who hadn't answered his question and had remained silent, his eyes focused on the bedsheets. He was being too silent.

"There's more, isn't there?" your husband asked, getting all of you's attention.

Harry looked at him almost shyly and made a fist with his hand. Yes, there was more, but he didn't have the courage to say it.

"Harry" you called softly and he looked at you. "You can tell us everything. You know that, right?"

Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, who knew exactly what Harry wasn't going to say. She gave him a small smile of encouragement and he mouthed "Tell them" with his lips. Your son hesitated, but after a few seconds he took a breath and told the truth.

"Malfoy insulted you, mom"

You immediately felt James' hand tighten on your shoulder.

"Oh Harry-" you tried to say, but he continued.

"He called you a mudblood and he said you didn't deserve to be in the world and other stupid things"

You fell silent, but James had the opposite reaction as you.

"He said what?!"

You continued to look at your son, who huffed.

"I know you always tell me that Malfoy's words aren't worth listening to and you're right. But this time i couldn't resist, i'm sorry. I couldn't let him say those things about you"

You let out another small sigh, but then smiled slightly. You leaned towards him and caressed his cheek with one hand, gently running your thumb over the patch on the bridge of his nose.

"Harry, sweetheart. I appreciate you standing up for me, i really do. But i've learned not to care about what the Malfoys and those who think the same say about me, by now. And even if there's always you and dad, i can handle myself when i want too, anyway" you said, making him smile. "But i don't want you to get in trouble for my name again, okay? You need to prove that you're better than that"

When he nodded slowly, you raised the pinky of your free hand.

"Promise me" you ordered softly.

Harry intertwined his pinky with yours, murmuring a "I promise" and you gave him a small kiss on the forehead, while Hermione watched the scene tenderly.

"Well well well, here's the whole family reunited"

You all turned towards the new voice and both Harry and James clenched their fists when they saw Malfoy and Malfoy Jr behind him. James didn't say it out loud, but he was proud on the inside to see that Draco looked worse than Harry. He deserved it.

"Potter" Lucius said looking at James, raising his cane. "I hope you are willing to apologize to me for your son's unruly behavior"

James crossed his arms.

"None of us will apologize, because YOUR son only got what he deserved"

"And yet he only told the truth" Lucius continued, shifting his gaze to you and you glared at him. "And i'm not surprised that your son is raised this way, when his mother is nothing more than a filthy, unworthy mudblood. Pathetic"

James gritted his teeth and took a step towards him.

"Say that again, i dare you"

Behind them, Harry and Draco were also exchanging challenging glances.

"James" you called out to him, but he ignored you.

Lucius smirked and pointed the tip of his cane at you.

"That woman is scum. People like her should just die-"

SBAM!

Lucius was forced to stop when James punched him squarely in the nose, knocking him backwards.

"Father!" Draco exclaimed, frightened.

"James!" you yelled, standing up and running to him. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at the scene with wide eyes, but also with satisfied smiles on their lips.

"Were all the beatings i gave you at school not enough for you!? Haven't you learned your lesson yet, after all these years?!" James exclaimed angrily. "You're just as vapid as your son, you're only good at giving air to your stupid mouth!"

He took a step towards Lucius, but you grabbed onto his arm, trying to pull him back.

"James no-"

"I don't give a damn if i'll go to Azkaban for what i'm about to say, Malfoy. I solemnly swear, that if i hear you or your son insult my wife one more time, you'll be the one who's going to die. I swear it"

Lucius from the floor looked at your husband with a look of disgust, wiping the blood from his nose with his thumb and James looked back with a murderous one, breathing heavily. The tension between the two men was suddenly broken by the voice of Madame Pomfrey, who was approaching the scene.

"Does this seem to be the time and place to fight you two?!" the woman snapped with anger. "This is an infirmary and you're not students anymore! Stop acting like children and leave right now!"

James and Lucius glared at each other for the last time, until the latter hastily got up and walked briskly out of the hospital wing, followed by Draco. Some students lying on the beds who had witnessed the scene, including your son and his friends, clapped and whistled in support for James. You ran a hand over your face, embarrassed at all that attention, but they were immediately shushed by Madame Pomfrey.

"You too Potter! Visiting hours are over!" she exclaimed again, waving a hand, annoyed.

When you were sure that James had calmed down, you let go of him to move closer to Harry again.

"Sorry honey, but we have to go now. We'll see you for the holidays, okay? I love you" you said quickly, kissing his head and cheek.

"Me too, mom"

You took James' hand and dragged him towards the exit, turning to look at your son one last time.

"And remember our promise!"

Those were your last words before you closed the door behind you, entering the silence of the hallway. Then you turned to your husband and gave him a small slap on the back of the head.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, immediately covering the affected spot with his hand and turning to look at you. "What was that for?"

You crossed your arms over your chest.

"You idiot! Didn't you hear anything about the speech i gave to our son??"

A few weeks later, one evening during the Christmas holidays, the Potter family and friends were all gathered in the living room of the Potter's household.

"I can't believe it AHAHAHAH!" Sirius's thunderous laughter echoed throughout the house. "Oh, how i wish i was there to see it! Y/n, you should have owled me!"

You glared at him.

"Sure, so instead of trying to convince these two-” you said, placing your hands on the heads of your husband and son. "-that arguing with the Malfoys is a waste of time, you would've only encouraged them to continue"

"And from what i understood Harry did a great job!" Sirius continued, looking at Harry, who smiled sheepishly. "Well done son, i'm proud of you"

You sat on the couch between James and Harry and the former wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him.

"I think the only one here with any sense that understands my point of view by now is Rem"

The aforementioned gave you a small, uncertain smile.

"Well... If James, Sirius and Harry weren't there, nothing would stop me from punching Malfoy in the face. Be it the old or the young one"

You widened your eyes, feeling betrayed, while everyone else burst out laughing.

"Remus!"

Remus chuckled with red cheeks.

"Dollface, those fuckers deserved it" Sirius continued, taking a sip from his goblet. "And we are your best friends, so if anyone dares to mess with you we will not hesitate to defend you. Just accept it and it'll be easier for you"

You sighed in resignation, while James smiled, tilting his face to leave a couple of kisses on your head.

"That scene was amazing though! Iconic!" Ron exclaimed with a toothy grin. "I don't think i'll ever forget the face Lucius and Draco made"

"Dad was so cool" Harry said.

James looked at the two boys, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Well, i had to defend my woman" he said and you giggled, resting your head against his body.

"James, can i ask you a question?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"Ask away, darling"

"What did you mean by what you said to Lucius? When you asked him if all the beatings you gave him at school weren't enough. Had this already happened when you were our age?"

"Oh several times, unfortunately" Sirius replied before James could and then he continued drinking his wine.

"Y/n and Lily were often picked on by Slytherin pureblood students" Remus continued.

Harry turned to look at you with sad eyes, not knowing about the torment you had endured during your years at Hogwarts. You noticed this and gave him a thoughtful smile, reaching out to his hand and squeezing it, as if to say, "Don't worry about me, it's over now".

"But we were always there to protect them, right?" James then asked, lowering his head to look at you and when he saw your look he quickly added. "Even though they didn't need it and could handle themselves~"

"You must know, my dear kids" Sirius interjected again, referring to the three teenagers present "That the brave knight James here, was always ready to save his beloved princess Y/n. He didn't care what the consequences were"

Both you and James blushed, exchanging a loving look, while Harry, Hermione and Ron looked at you tenderly.

"And it's good to know that Harry would do the same for his mother" Remus said then. "Like father like son"

"Aah i love this family so much, i swear!" Sirius sighed, opening his arms wide and almost spilling the wine on the floor.

And everyone laughed.

Kon-el | Connor Kent X readerbatsis!

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° Batblood ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ °

uhhh self indulgent bat family stuff

masterlist

This is mostly Batfamily X Batsis. Though I think I had enough Conner Kent X Reader to classify this as a thing.

GUYS I WROTE DAMIENS NAME WRONG THROUGHOUT THIS WAIT

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩ The first thing you learn about your parents is that they are fundamentally incompatible. The second thing you learn is that they will never stop trying anyway.

You don’t remember a time when Bruce and Selina were ever something as simple as together. They exist in contradictions she flirts, he broods; she steals, he stops her; she leaves, he waits. You used to think they would eventually find a middle ground, but you’ve long since given up on that idea.

Bruce and Selina have always been on and off, a constant push and pull. He loves her, but he can’t accept her choices. She loves him, but she refuses to change for him. You grew up watching them dance around their feelings. One moment, she’s draped over his desk in the Batcave, teasing him, and the next, she’s gone without a trace, leaving only a cryptic note behind.

Still, they make sense, in a way that defies logic. And despite all their back and forth, they both love you just in completely different ways. The truth is, Bruce and Selina will never be able to give you the same kind of love.

⸻

“Again.”

You grit your teeth, clenching your fists as Bruce circles you in the Batcave’s training area. You’ve already gone through this drill a dozen times. Your muscles ache, your ribs are sore from earlier blows, but he’s relentless.

You feint left, then pivot sharply, throwing a kick at his side. He blocks it easily. Too easily. His expression remains unreadable, but you can feel his disapproval.

“Sloppy,” he says, stepping back. “You’re letting yourself get tired.”

“That’s because I am tired,” you snap. “We’ve been doing this for over an hour.”

He crosses his arms. “On the field, you don’t get to decide when you’re done.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, but Tim does? Jason does? Even Damian doesn’t get this much micromanaging.”

Bruce’s jaw tightens. “This isn’t about them. It’s about you.”

“No, it’s about me being your daughter.”

His silence confirms it.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You trained all of them, let them fight their own battles. You trusted them to figure it out. But me? You’re scared to let me.”

Bruce’s expression darkens. “I’m not scared.”

“Then what is it?” you challenge, stepping closer. “You push me harder than you ever pushed them, but you still won’t let me prove myself. What’s the point of all this if you’re just going to hold me back?”

His voice is quiet when he finally answers. “Because I can’t lose you.”

The weight of those words presses against your chest. You want to be angry, to keep fighting him on this, but the raw emotion in his voice makes it impossible.

You don’t know what to say, so you settle for the only truth you have.

“You won’t,” you murmur. “But you have to let me go.”

Bruce doesn’t answer. He just exhales slowly, tension still radiating from his stance. You don’t expect him to change overnight, but at the very least, he doesn’t call for another round. That’s something.

⸻

Selina finds you hours later, sprawled out on the balcony of her penthouse. You weren’t planning on coming here tonight, but after your fight with Bruce, you needed air. And if there’s one thing Selina understands, it’s the need to escape.

She slides the glass door open, stepping onto the rooftop with effortless grace. “I thought I’d find you here.”

You don’t turn to face her. “Bruce is being impossible.”

She chuckles, settling beside you. “He’s still your dad don’t call him bruce, though when isn’t he?”

You sigh, tilting your head back against the cool metal railing. “I just… I don’t know how to make him see me as more than just his kid. He acts like I’ll break if I take one wrong step.”

Selina hums thoughtfully. “That’s what he does. He builds walls around the things he loves, convinces himself it’s the only way to keep them safe.”

You glance at her. “And you?”

She smirks. “Oh, I’d never keep a bird in a cage. I’d teach her to fly.”

There’s something appealing about that. With Selina, there are no rules, no suffocating restrictions. Just a quiet, unwavering confidence in your abilities. Even if you don’t approve of the way she lives, you can’t deny that she makes you feel free.

She pulls a small velvet pouch from her pocket and tosses it into your lap.

You raise a brow. “Do I want to know?”

She grins. “Just a little something I picked up.”

You groan, shoving it back at her. “I told you to stop giving me stolen jewelry.”

Selina only laughs. “It’s not stolen technically. I swapped it for something better.”

“That’s still stealing.”

“Details, darling.”

You can’t help but laugh. She winks, ruffling your hair before standing. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat before you let your father’s brooding ruin your whole night.”

You shake your head but follow her anyway.

For all their differences, Bruce and Selina have one thing in common: they both love you, fiercely.

Your dad will always try to protect you from the world. Your mom will always remind you that it’s yours to take. You exist in the space between them.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

Patrol had been standard until it wasn’t. You and Tim had been watching an arms deal go down from the rooftops of Gotham’s East End. The intel from Oracle suggested this was a simple exchange one that didn’t require much interference. The plan was to observe, gather intel, and report back if things escalated. But you weren’t convinced.

Something felt off. You crouched beside Tim, scanning the warehouse below. The deal was happening inside, but your eyes were locked on a figure slipping through a side entrance, unnoticed by the others.

“Tim, we’ve got movement,” you whispered.

He barely glanced at the figure before shaking his head. “Not our priority. We wait and”

“I’m going after them,” you interrupted, already moving.

Tim grabbed your arm. “That’s not the plan.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you insisted, shaking him off. “Cover me.”

And before he could protest, you were already gone.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The side entrance led you through a narrow corridor, crates stacked high along the walls. You moved quietly, using the shadows to your advantage.

The man you were following a mercenary by the look of his armor spoke softly into an earpiece. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the urgency in his tone sent a chill down your spine.

You pressed closer, peering around a crate. Then you saw it.

This wasn’t just an arms deal. There were bombs. Crates of them. Military grade explosives, lined up and ready to be moved.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oracle,” you whispered, touching your comm. “We have a problem.”

“I see it,” her voice came through your earpiece. “I’m running facial recognition on the men inside. This isn’t just some street gang these guys are mercenaries.”

“Figures.”

Tim’s voice suddenly crackled through. “You were supposed to wait.”

“I’d say ‘I told you so,’ but I’m a little busy.”

A movement caught your eye. The mercenary was reaching for a detonator.

Shit.

You sprang from cover, knocking him back with a swift kick to the ribs. The detonator clattered across the floor.

“Got company,” you muttered.

“On my way,” Tim responded.

But it was already too late.

The other mercenaries had heard the commotion, and within seconds, you were surrounded.

⸻

Fighting in the Fire

You moved on instinct, blocking the first blow aimed at your head and countering with a knee to the gut. The second merc swung at you with a baton, but you ducked, sweeping his legs out from under him.

The fight was brutal there were too many of them, and you were alone.

A blade sliced across your side, and you hissed, twisting to avoid a deeper wound. Blood soaked into your suit, but you ignored it, focusing on staying alive.

Then the explosion hit.

A grenade thrown from somewhere behind you detonated against one of the stacked crates. The force sent you flying, crashing through a pile of debris. Your ears rang, and your vision blurred.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard Tim’s voice in your earpiece. “Hold on I’m almost there!”

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to move.

You weren’t dying here.

When the dust settled, the mercenaries were either unconscious or retreating. The explosives were still intact, and Tim arrived just in time to secure them.

But you were wrecked.

He looked at you, taking in the blood seeping from your side. “You’re an idiot.”

You gave a weak smirk. “Yeah. But at least I was right.”

Tim muttered something under his breath before helping you out of the warehouse.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

The moment you step off the platform, you feel him before you see him.

Bruce is waiting. Arms crossed. Silent.

He’s still in the Batsuit, the cowl pulled back, his expression unreadable but you know better. You’ve seen that look before.

Tim doesn’t say a word. He just gives you one final glance and walks off, leaving you alone with the inevitable.

You brace yourself, but Bruce doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. His disappointment is a physical weight in the air.

“You abandoned your partner,” he says, voice like stone.

“I chased a lead.”

“You disobeyed orders.”

You grit your teeth. “It was the right call.”

He steps forward, and suddenly, you feel small. Not because you’re afraid Bruce would never hurt you but because his presence alone is suffocating.

“The right call?” His tone sharpens. “You were injured. You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t,” you argue, though the sting in your side says otherwise.

Bruce exhales slowly, his jaw tightening. “You’re reckless.”

“You don’t say that when literally anyone else is on a mission,” you snap.

He doesn’t answer immediately, and that silence stings. Because you already know the truth. You’re different. You’re his daughter. And that changes everything. but it doesn’t Damien is younger than you. You don’t get it.

“You’re dismissed,” he finally says, voice cold.

You hesitate, fists clenched, but there’s no point in arguing. Not when his mind is already made up.

You turn and head toward the med bay, fuming the entire way.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

You’re half out of your suit, sitting on the medical table while Alfred patches up your side, when Jason storms into the Batcave like a force of nature.

“The hell happened tonight?”

You groan. Of course he found out.

Bruce, still near the Batcomputer, barely glances up. “Jason”

Jason ignores him, turning straight to you. His eyes flick to the bloodstained bandages, and his expression darkens. “Who did this?”

“Relax,” you sigh. “It’s just a scratch.”

Jason scoffs. “A scratch?” He turns to Bruce, eyes blazing. “What the hell was she doing in a situation where she could end up like this?”

“I made the call,” you interject. “It was my decision.”

Jason looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “That’s not a good thing, dumbass.”

You scowl. “It’s part of the job.”

Jason shakes his head, pacing. “Nah. No. You shouldn’t be out there like this. He shouldn’t be letting you”

“I let her do nothing,” Bruce interrupts, his voice a low warning.

Jason laughs humorless, sharp. “Oh, really? Because it looks to me like you’re putting her through the same damn cycle we all went through. How long before she ends up dead in an alley too?”

“Jason”

“No, screw that,” Jason snaps. “You’re just letting her walk into this life like it’s fine. Like it’s not gonna chew her up and spit her out like the rest of us.”

You push yourself up from the table, ignoring the sharp sting in your side. “I chose this, Jason. No one forced me.”

Jason turns his glare on you. “You don’t get it, do you? You think this is just about being a hero, about doing good?” He scoffs. “It’s a death sentence.”

You clench your jaw. “So what, you expect me to just sit at home and do nothing?”

“I expect you to be smarter than this,” he snaps.

Before you can fire back, his eyes narrow, and suddenly, the conversation takes a sharp turn.

“Speaking of dumb decisions,” Jason mutters, crossing his arms. “You’re still with Superboy, right?”

Your frustration spikes. “Oh my godseriously?”

Jason gives you a deadpan look. “knock off superman? Really? You could do better.”

You throw your hands up. “Why does everyone have a problem with me dating Conner?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Because he’s a walking red flag wrapped in blue spandex.”

You glare. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Jason scowls. “I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

He doesn’t deny it.

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples. “Look, I’m tired, I’m injured, and I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

Jason studies you for a moment, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. His anger hasn’t faded completely, but the sharp edge of it has dulled.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But if he ever screws up, I will break his face.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of something warmer underneath the annoyance. Jason will never say it outright, but you know what this is.

It’s not just anger. It’s fear.

Bruce was right about one thing losing people leaves scars. And Jason? He has more than most. He won’t stop you from fighting your battles. But he’ll sure as hell be there when you fall.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

Dating in the Batfamily was a challenge. Dating Conner Kent? That was practically a declaration of war.

You weren’t an idiot you knew what your family thought of him. Bruce didn’t trust him. Superman’s clone, an unpredictable force of power, a boy with too much strength and too little control. That’s how your father saw him, at least. Jason didn’t respect him. “A knock off in a leather jacket? Come on, you can do so much better.”

Tim was wary. Conner was his best friend, but even he had his doubts when it came to you.

And your mother? Selina raised a delicate brow when she first caught wind of your relationship, a teasing smirk playing at her lips. “Oh, darling,” she had purred. “You know how your father’s going to react, right?”

You had sighed, rubbing your temples. “Yes, Mother, I know.”

She had hummed in amusement. “Well, Im starting to think i’m a bad influence, at least try not to be like me and your dad.”

“Mom.”

She had only laughed.

At first, it was easier to keep it hidden. You and Conner met in the shadows, in places no one else would look.

Abandoned rooftops, dimly lit diners on the outskirts of the city, quiet parks in the dead of night where he could float just above the ground, keeping you wrapped in the warmth of his presence.

He wasn’t like Superman and you weren’t just Batman’s daughter.

That’s what you loved about being with him. When he looked at you, he didn’t see the vigilante, the heir to Gotham’s dark legacy. He didn’t see someone who had to be perfect. He saw you. Your flaws, your fears, your messy, complicated emotions. And he never tried to change them.

“I don’t care about what your dad thinks,” he had told you once, leaning back against the fire escape outside your window. “Or your brothers. Or your mom, even.”

You raised a brow. “Not even a little?”

He grinned. “Okay, maybe a little. But it doesn’t change anything.”

You had smirked. “You are stubborn.”

“Says the girl who won’t admit she likes me.”

You scoffed, but he had been right. Liking him had been the easy part. Accepting that he was yours? That had been harder.

Gotham was a city of ghosts.

Your life had been built on shadows, on silent movements, on always thinking five steps ahead. Mistakes had consequences, emotions were weaknesses, and attachments?

They got you killed.

But Conner… Conner made you feel like you were alive.

He never cared about the weight of your family name. He never expected you to be perfect. He let you be wrong, and he still stood by you.

One night, after a brutal mission, you had been exhausted, bruised, and pissed at your father for another round of overprotection.

Conner had found you on the rooftop of your shared apartment, sitting at the edge, staring out at the skyline.

He had landed softly beside you, his presence warm against the cold night.

“You okay?”

You hadn’t answered right away.

Then, quietly, you had admitted, “Sometimes I think its much more worth it to leave this place”

Conner had been silent for a moment before he shifted closer. “Yeah. I get that.”

And you knew he did. Superman saw him as something broken. A project. An accident to be controlled. Bruce saw you as something fragile. Something not ready.

You had glanced at Conner then, at the way he looked at you not as something to fix, but as someone whole. You had leaned into him, and he had let you.

That was the thing about Conner.

He didn’t just love you. He trusted you to be exactly who you were.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Your father was the last to acknowledge it.

Bruce had spent months pretending you weren’t sneaking out to see Conner, pretending he didn’t know why your patrol routes started conveniently lining up with the edge of the city.

But Bruce noticed everything. eventually, he noticed him. It started with the little things.

Conner was always near you in battle, always the first to shield you from an explosion, always ready to catch you if you fell.

Bruce watched the way Conner would take the hit for you not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because he could. Conner was powerful, but he never used that strength to control you. He never underestimated you.

One night, after a particularly nasty fight against a group of assassins, you had ended up battered and bloody, a knife wound deep in your side.

Conner had carried you back to the Cave.

Bruce had been waiting.

The air had been tense as Conner laid you gently on the med bay table, his jaw tight, eyes burning with barely contained fury.

“She shouldn’t have been alone,” Conner had said, voice sharp.

Bruce had met his glare, unreadable. “Yeah she shouldn’t have.”

“Then act right on this and she wouldn’t have been alone,” Conner snapped. “shes strong but I don’t care like assholes like you neither does she.”

Silence.

Then Bruce had simply turned and walked away. It wasn’t approval. But it wasn’t rejection, either. You supposed, in his way, Bruce was starting to understand.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

Looking back now, lying in the med bay once again, you let out a slow breath.

The room was empty.

The cave was silent.

Your body ached, your side still throbbing from the mission gone wrong. You stared at the ceiling, letting exhaustion creep in.

Jason’s words still echoed in your head.

“Tights and a cape? Really?”

You sighed.

They’d never understand.

when Conner held you, when he saw you, when he treated you like something more than just Batman’s daughter… It didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

Gotham was different when Dick was in town. Maybe it was the way he carried himself loose, easy, like the city didn’t weigh on his shoulders the way it did on everyone else’s. Maybe it was because he didn’t live here anymore, so Gotham’s shadows didn’t cling to him the way they clung to you, to Jason, to Bruce.

Either way, his presence always changed the air. Right now, though? It just made the tension in the Batcave feel even heavier.

Dick had barely been back for a full twenty four hours before he noticed. The way Bruce’s jaw was tighter than usual, how Jason was avoiding both of you, how Tim kept smirking behind his coffee cup like he was enjoying the chaos. And you?

You were just done.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched.

Watched as Bruce checked your gear three times before your patrol. Watched as Jason kept throwing pointed glances your way, muttering curses under his breath like you were the idiot. Watched as Tim leaned back against the Batcomputer with the most entertained expression, like this was his own personal sitcom.

Eventually, Dick just sighed.

“Alright, kid,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Burgers. Let’s go.”

Bruce barely looked up. “She has patrol.”

Dick raised a brow. “No, she has burgers with her favorite brother.”

Jason scoffed from across the room. “Favorite? Yeah, okay, Nightwing.”

Tim sipped his coffee. “I don’t know, Jay. He is also my favourite.”

You didn’t argue. You just grabbed your jacket and followed Dick out before Bruce could protest.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The diner was a little hole in the wall place, tucked between two crumbling buildings. Greasy food, crappy lighting, the kind of place that felt like Gotham to its core. You slumped into the booth, arms crossed as Dick slid in across from you.

He didn’t push. Didn’t prod. Just casually unwrapped his burger and took a bite, waiting. It didn’t take long for you to break.

“He treats me like a soldier,” you said suddenly, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Not even a good one. Just one he doesn’t trust to make their own decisions.”

Dick chewed, nodding. “Bruce?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously Bruce.”

You picked at your fries. “he’s such an ass, i know he’s had this tough love thing since Jason but god why cant he let me be? Every move I make, he second guesses. Every mission, he reroutes my patrol to keep me ‘safer.’ He acts like I’m some reckless idiot who’s one bad decision away from getting killed.”

Dick hummed. “Jason probably isn’t helping.”

You huffed. “Oh, he’s worse. At least Bruce lets me fight Jason acts like I’m made of glass. Like I need protecting, like I can’t handle myself.”

Dick smirked. “Well, you did almost get blown up yesterday.”

You scowled. “That’s not the point.”

“Mmhmm.”

You ignored him and kept going.

“And then there’s Tim. Who just smirks. Like he enjoys watching me get lectured by dad and chewed out by Jason. Like this is all some kind of entertainment to him.”

Dick laughed. “It is entertaining.”

You threw a fry at him. He caught it without looking.

“It’s just” You exhaled sharply. “Bruce doesn’t trust me, Jason coddles me, and Tim thinks it’s all a joke. And yet Damian gets to do whatever the hell he wants.”

Dick raised a brow. “Ah. So this is about Damian.”

You stabbed your fork into your fries. “It’s not. It’s about all of it. But also? Yeah. It’s about Damian.”

Dick took another bite of his burger, chewing thoughtfully. “Bruce would let him get away with murder?”

“Literally,” you muttered. “Meanwhile, I take one risk one calculated risk and suddenly I’m ‘not ready.’”

Dick sighed, setting his burger down. “Okay. So, what’s the actual problem?”

You frowned. “I just told you”

“No, I mean the real problem. You don’t actually care that Bruce is strict. You expect that. You don’t even care that Jason’s overprotective he does that to everyone he loves.”

You looked away. “…So?”

“So,” he said, smirking, “what you actually hate is that they don’t see you as an equal.”

You frowned.

Dick leaned back, crossing his arms. “They see you as their little sister. Their daughter. They see someone they have to protect, not someone they can trust.”

Your grip on your fork tightened. “And that’s not fair.”

“No,” he agreed easily. “It’s not.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, casually, Dick added, “But hey, at least Conner treats you like an equal.”

You froze mid bite.

Slowly, you looked up at him.

He grinned.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he teased. “You could’ve gone for someone normal, but nooo. You had to pick another dark, broody, overpowered meathead”

“Dick, I swear”

“You surround yourself with annoying guys”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Never speak again.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” He leaned forward, eyes glinting mischievously. “In fact, I think I should speak more. Maybe bring this up at family dinner. Hey, Bruce, did you know your daughter has a thing for emotionally constipated guys in leather?”

You threw another fry at him.

He dodged it effortlessly, laughing.

“Dick. I will kill you.”

“I kinda want to meet this guy.”

You glared.

He just smiled. But despite your annoyance, despite everything Bruce’s overprotection, Jason’s coddling, Tim’s smirking something about the conversation helped. Because at least one of your brothers saw you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

You regretted ever telling your family now. Dick knowing about Conner means you’ve been introduced to hell.

oh satan over there? yeah he’s on the body of your bug brother.

Not because he was mad not even because he was disapproving but because he was Dick.

Which meant relentless teasing.

Which meant grinning at you like he had the world’s juiciest blackmail material. Which meant the exact sentence that had been haunting you ever since your burger night.

“I want to meet my younger sister’s hero.”

It had been two days. Two. And he would not let it go.

You tried to avoid it. Tried to make excuses. But Dick was persistent.

So now here you were on a Gotham rooftop, arms crossed, glaring at him as he sat on the ledge like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m interested,” he corrected. “I mean, c’mon. I’ve only ever heard about this guy from our brothers, and none of them have anything nice to say.” He smirked. “Figured I should form my own opinion.”

You groaned. “Can you not?”

“Oh, I definitely can,” he said. “I just won’t.”

Before you could argue further, a gust of wind swept through the air, and There he was.

Conner landed a few feet away, hands in his jacket pockets, red cape billowing slightly behind him. His gaze flickered between you and Dick, brows furrowed in mild suspicion.

“You okay?” he asked you first, like he always did.

You exhaled. “Yeah. I just ” You shot Dick a look. “Had a situation to handle.”

Conner raised an eyebrow.

Dick, meanwhile, was grinning.

“Well, well, well,” he said, standing up and brushing off his suit. “The infamous Superboy.”

Conner’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you’re…?”

Dicks mouth dropped glancing to you “Oh, wow. That actually hurt.” Then he extended a hand. “Dick Grayson. Also known as Nightwing. Also known as best older brother. Nice to finally meet you.”

Conner eyed him for a second before shaking his hand. “…Right.”

Dick’s smirk widened. “So. You’re the little guy my little sister’s been sneaking around with, huh?”

You instantly regretted your entire life.

Conner’s gaze flickered to you before he answered, clearly unsure how to respond. “Guess so…?”

“Oh, I like him already,” Dick laughed. “Got that classic ‘brooding hero’ energy. I see the appeal.”

You glared. “Dick”

“I mean, you do have a type,” he continued, grinning at you. “The whole ‘dark, broody, overpowered’ thing? Classic. keep the family values. I respect it.”

Conner glanced at you, fidgeting slightly as if trying to hold back a laugh. “its not a wrong point.”

You smacked his arm. “Not you too.”

Dick just laughed. “So. How’s the Super life treating you?”

Conner shrugged awkwardly, clearly not sure how to navigate the conversation. “Could be worse.”

“Dealing with my family yet?”

“All the time.”

Dick nodded sagely. “Yeah, that’s rough, buddy.”

Conner gave a quiet, awkward chuckle. “It’s not that bad.” His gaze softened slightly when he looked at you. “She makes it easier.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. Then slowly he grinned.

“Oh, man,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re down bad.”

You groaned. “Dick. it’s gross when you say that. Shut up.”

“I love this,” he continued, delighted. “This is so much better than I imagined.”

Conner crossed his arms and tried to lean against the ledge nonchalantly, but there was a slight stiff tension in his posture. “I wont stop her if she starts fighting”

Dick gasped, hand over his heart. “You’d turn her against me?”

“mmmmm i’m in a Y/n wrongs and right are rights morality,” Conner pointed out with a soft, awkward chuckle.

Dick sighed. “ew you sound like me with women.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay. We’re done here.”

But before you could drag Conner away, Dick clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, all jokes aside,” he said, suddenly more serious, “I get why Bruce and Jason are… difficult about this. You’re powerful. You’re dangerous. You’re not one of us.”

Conner tensed slightly, glancing over at you like he didn’t know how to respond.

Dick met his gaze. “But I see how you look at her. And I see how she looks at you.” His expression softened. “So, for what it’s worth? You’ve got my approval.”

Conner blinked, clearly caught off guard. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck. “Wasn’t asking.”

Dick grinned. “Oh, I really like you.”

You groaned. “I hate both of you.”

Conner just took your hand, squeezing lightly, trying to brush off the awkwardness that had started to settle in. “You love me.” he whispered

You muttered something under your breath. Dick slung an arm around your shoulders, still grinning.

“Alright, Superboy. Don’t break her heart. Or I will break you.”

Conner didn’t flinch. “You could try.”

“Ohhh, I really really like him.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ ° ✩

The gala was everything you dreaded about Gotham’s elite. The high end designers. The glittering chandeliers. The fake smiles and empty conversations about stock markets and charities you knew were just tax write offs. You were dreading it. But you had no choice. Your dad had insisted.

“You’re going with me,” Bruce had said, his tone one you couldn’t argue with. “Damien’s going too.”

Damien.

You rolled your eyes. If there was one silver lining, it was that Damien would make the night more bearable. Sure, he was insufferable, but deep down, he was your favorite… well one of them.

You didn’t know when it started, but you couldn’t deny it. Every time someone made a comment about you, something snide about being Bruce Wayne’s daughter or how you’d grown up in a world of privilege, Damien was right there. He might have been a bratty little boy, but he had a surprisingly soft spot for you.

He’d bark back at anyone who dared talk down to you. And that always made you smile.

Still, you hated the galas. The whole act of pretending to be someone you weren’t, of feigning interest in the people who rubbed elbows with the most corrupt figures in Gotham. It made you feel like you were just another part of Bruce Wayne’s PR machine, just another Wayne for the rich to admire, the perfect daughter.

You weren’t. At least not in the way they thought you were.

⸻

You stood in front of the mirror in your dress, adjusting the neckline slightly. It wasn’t too flashy. Not as tight or revealing as some of the other dresses you’d seen at these events. It wasn’t your style to try and look like you were above everyone else. There was an elegance to it, sure, but it wasn’t over the top.

You sighed, glancing at the clock. You were almost late. You had not been in the mood to get dressed up and pretend you weren’t itching to leave this stupid party as soon as you walked in.

The door to your room creaked open just a bit, and you turned to see Damien standing in the doorway, his usual scowl plastered on his face.

“Are you done yet?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

You blinked at him. “Are you done yet? You look like a little mini Bruce.”

He shot you a glare. “I’ll have you know, I’m a Wayne too, and I’m far superior to Father in many ways.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Mm. Sure, Damien. If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed in the way they always did when he was being stubborn. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t embarrass the family again.”

“Again?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

You chuckled. “Whatever, Damien. Just don’t get in my way.”

He huffed, but his expression softened for a second. “You know, you don’t have to act like you don’t belong there. It’s your place.”

The rare kindness from Damien caught you off guard. You almost wanted to tease him about it, but something in the way he said it made you pause.

Before you could respond, Bruce’s voice echoed from downstairs. “Damien, [Y/N], let’s go.”

You rolled your eyes. No escape.

⸻

The gala was in full swing when you arrived, the grand ballroom filled with well dressed Gotham’s elite, all laughing, talking, and pretending to be better than they really were. As you walked in behind Bruce and Damien, you couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water.

Damien, ever the mini Bruce, stepped confidently beside you, his posture straight, eyes sharp. He barely even looked at anyone around him, already ready to shoot down any attempts at conversation. You, on the other hand, put on your best poker face, walking with your head high, but your mind already halfway to escaping.

Bruce was already surrounded by some of the usual suspects, but it didn’t take long for the first person to notice you.

“You know,” a woman with a glass of champagne in hand said, smiling in that way people did when they thought they were better than you. “It’s nice to see the Wayne family so well represented. A fine, upstanding family, despite… well, you know…”

The pause was intentional, like she wanted to see if you’d react to the snide remark. It was a comment about your family’s history, a little jab that no one dared speak out loud but always found a way to slip into their conversations. Isnt being a woman supposed to be about supporting other women? Damien arguably had the same history as you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Damien beat you to it.

“That’s quite enough.” He said it flatly, stepping forward with a warning glare. “I’m sure if you don’t have anything productive to say, you’d be better off leaving.”

The woman blinked, surprised by the bluntness, but Damien was already walking away, his weird little aura behind him like he was some miniature Dark Knight.

You couldn’t help but smile at him. You were right. He was your favorite.

Bruce glanced at you both, an eyebrow arched. He had seen the whole exchange. You could practically feel him holding back a smirk.

“Damien,” Bruce said, his voice a little too controlled. “You don’t have to go picking fights.”

Damien didn’t back down. “I’m simply defending Y/n. Some of these people need to remember their place.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but the faintest glimmer of approval passed through his gaze, and it was enough.

⸻

The night dragged on, but you found yourself less uncomfortable with Damien by your side. His quiet protectiveness, the way he always seemed to catch the smallest slight before you did, made it easier to navigate the pretentious conversations. Every time someone made a comment about your family, you could feel Damien’s posture tense and his eyes narrow. And each time, he defended you.

Despite everything, despite how much you complained about his bratty tendencies, Damien was your brat. the weight of the night began to settle. The glittering lights of the gala still flickered in your mind, but the presence of your father and Damien beside you made the ride back almost bearable. Damien, as usual, sat stiffly, his posture perfect even in the backseat of the car, while Bruce remained uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze focused out the window.

You couldn’t help but glance over at Damien, who was looking out his own window, seemingly lost in thought. There had been a moment earlier when Bruce had shared a look with him, something small but meaningful a look you couldn’t quite place. But it was enough to make you feel something unspoken between the two of them. It wasn’t often you saw your father show a soft spot for anyone, let alone his own kids.

The car pulled up to the Manor, and as it came to a stop, you turned to Damien, the words already spilling out before you could stop them.

“You know, you’re not as bad as you pretend to be,” you said, voice teasing but soft. “I might just like you after all.”

Damien scoffed. “You shouldn’t like me. I’m better than you, after all.”

“Pfft, whatever,” you grinned, ignoring his words. The sudden burst of affection you felt in that moment made you throw all your self control out the window. Without thinking, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

Damien let out an exaggerated, dramatic gasp, his body going stiff in shock. “Unhand me, woman,” he hissed, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden outburst of affection.

You ignored his protests, squeezing him tighter. “Nope! Not until you admit that you love me.”

Damien scowled, his face flushing just slightly. “I do not love you, you foolish girl.” But there was no hiding the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he tried unsuccessfully to push you away.

Bruce, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, cleared his throat from the front seat, as though reminding you both that you weren’t exactly alone. But it was too late to stop now.

You pulled back just enough to look Damien in the eye, still grinning like a cat. “Come on, admit it. I know you love me.”

Damien tried to glare at you, but there was no hiding the slight curve of his lips. “I tolerate you,” he said begrudgingly.

You held him tighter. “Close enough!”

He growled, finally breaking free from your grip. “This is not over,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting his suit with a dramatic flair.

You leaned back, still grinning like an idiot. “Sure, sure, Damien. You can pretend all you want.”

Bruce finally spoke up, his tone surprisingly light. “Alright, break it up, you two. We’ve still got a whole night to get through.”

Damien shot a glare at Bruce. “I’m not the one causing disruptions here.”

You and Bruce shared a look, and for just a brief second, you saw it, something rare and almost tender between the two of them. Damien wasn’t as bad as you’d thought. he had his own way of showing care.

Damien, still grumbling, marched ahead toward the front door, muttering something about how he was going to “train” and “get away from these ridiculous people.” But you knew better. Underneath the bravado, Damien was just like everyone else in this family he cared.

As you stepped out of the car and onto the front porch of Wayne Manor, the cool night air hit your face, carrying the faint scent of rain. You were exhausted, mentally drained from the fake smiles and shallow conversations of the gala, and the weight of the night hung heavy on your shoulders. You couldn’t wait to retreat to your room, get out of this damn dress, and let your thoughts settle.

But as you walked toward the front door, something or rather someone caught your eye. Standing by the door, just under the archway of the Manor, was a familiar silhouette. The figure straightened when he saw you approach, a soft smile appearing on his face.

Conner.

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected him to be here, but there he was, waiting for you, like he always did.

“Hey,” you said softly, as you run over to him. your exhaustion suddenly lifting at the sight of him.

He tilted his head, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. “You look… very beautiful tonight.”

You let out a small, tired chuckle. “Beautiful? someone is learning how to express his emotions”

Conner’s brow furrowed, his eyes scanning you like he could see the exhaustion beneath your calm exterior. He stepped forward, his large frame nearly blocking the door. “You okay?”

You nodded, but only half heartedly. “Yeah, just… tired of it all. Tired of pretending.”

Conner didn’t say anything at first, but his gaze softened. His next words were simple, but they always meant more than you expected. “you’re done now, don’t have to think about it now.”

You stepped closer to him, letting the tension in your body melt just a little. “Thanks, Conner. It means a lot. I don’t think I could stand much more of these stupid galas if I didn’t know you’d be waiting for me.”

He smiled at that, the kind of smile that made your heart flutter in your chest, as he stepped aside to let you in. “Always. You know I’ve got your back.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “You’re the best.”

Conner chuckled, stepping back as you passed him. “I’m just doing my job, keeping you out of trouble.”

You shot him a playful look over your shoulder. “Really? Keeping me out of trouble?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, you seem to find it even when I’m not around.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, but the moment you passed him, you felt his hand gently grasp your arm, a soft but firm hold that pulled you back toward him.

“What?” you asked, confused.

Conner was staring at you, his blue eyes intense but gentle. “You looked like you needed someone tonight. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You stared at him for a moment, letting his words settle. But instead of saying anything, you simply let out a long sigh and let your shoulders relax. You didn’t need to talk about it now. Not when Conner was here, offering comfort without the need for words.

Instead, you smiled softly, stepping into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “I think… I think I just need this right now.”

Conner wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as if to shield you from everything outside this moment. “I’ve got you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the familiar warmth of his embrace wrap around you.

The moment of quiet was shattered by the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

You tensed slightly, already knowing exactly who it was before you even turned your head.

Bruce stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable but his presence alone was enough to make the warmth in your chest falter just a bit.

“It’s late,” he said, voice even, but carrying that weight of authority only he could manage. “You should be inside now.”

You sighed, pulling back slightly from Conner but keeping your hand locked around his wrist. Of course, Bruce had impeccable timing.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” you muttered, turning toward the door but you didn’t let go of Conner. Instead, you tugged him along with you, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to your hand still gripping Conner’s, his expression barely changing, but you knew he noticed.

Conner hesitated for half a second, casting a glance between you and your father, as if gauging whether it was a terrible idea to follow you inside. But you weren’t giving him a choice.

Bruce let out the tiniest sigh, stepping aside to let you both in, but not without a warning glance at Conner.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Bruce said evenly.

Conner just glared at him, tight lipped smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

You definitely caught the way Bruce’s brow twitched ever so slightly at the sir, but you didn’t dwell on it. You just smirked to yourself and pulled Conner further into the Manor, past your father, past all the unspoken tension, and straight toward the one place you could finally relax.

Conner leaned in as you walked, voice low and teasing. “You dragged me in here.”

You grinned up at him. “What, scared of my dad?”

Conner huffed. “No. But I am scared of what your brothers are gonna say when they see me here.”

You just laughed. “Oh, you should be.”

As you pulled Conner deeper into the Manor, you moved quickly, knowing full well that the longer you lingered, the higher the chance of getting ambushed by one of your loving brothers.

You practically speed walked through the grand hall, past the dimly lit corridors.

“Ah, welcome home, Miss.”

You skidded to a stop as Alfred appeared seemingly out of nowhere, standing near the bottom of the staircase with his usual composed demeanor.

Conner tensed beside you, standing up straighter like he was about to get scolded. Clearly, even he wasn’t immune to Alfred’s presence.

You shot the butler a quick smile, still keeping a tight grip on Conner’s wrist. “Hey, Alfred. Gala was awful, as expected. Goodnight!”

And before he could reply, you dragged Conner up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Miss. Goodnight, Mister Conner,” Alfred called after you, voice laced with mild amusement.

Conner barely managed to glance over his shoulder to offer a polite, “Uh goodnight, sir,” before he was pulled around the corner and out of sight.

When you finally made it to your room, you threw the door open and all but shoved Conner inside before shutting it behind you with a sigh of relief.

“Okay, safe,” you muttered, leaning against the door.

Conner raised a brow. “You act like we just broke into the White House.”

You pointed a finger at him. “This house probably has better security than the white house.”

Conner snorted, shaking his head as he glanced around your room. He’d been here before, but it was still surreal for him standing in Wayne Manor.

You walked over to your bed, flopping onto it dramatically. “I swear, I love Alfred, but he always pops up at the worst moments. It’s like a sixth sense.”

Conner smirked, stepping closer. “Maybe he was just making sure I wasn’t sneaking in to corrupt his favorite Wayne.”

You peeked up at him through your arms. “Bold of you to assume I’m his favorite.”

He sat down beside you, resting his elbows on his knees. “You definitely are.”

You grinned, nudging him lightly with your foot. “Flatter me more, Superboy.”

Conner just chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t need flattery. You already know how great you are.”

You huffed, rolling onto your side. “Tell that to my dad.”

Conner didn’t say anything right away, just let his hand rest on yours, grounding you. You let out a slow breath, the exhaustion of the day finally settling in.

“Get some sleep,” Conner murmured. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

You didn’t even think about it before squeezing his hand. “Stay.”

And he did.

Conner sat beside you on the bed, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your wrist. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows across his face, making his blue eyes stand out even more than usual. He was warm, solid, grounding in a way you desperately needed after the night you’d had.

You shifted closer, tilting your head up toward him. He caught the movement instantly, his gaze flicking down to your lips before he leaned in, closing the space between you.

The kiss was gentle at first, unhurried. His lips pressed against yours in a way that made your chest tighten not with nerves, but with something softer, something steady. His hand slid up, fingertips brushing your jaw before cradling your face, pulling you just a little closer.

You sighed against him, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. He kissed you again, deeper this time, as if memorizing the shape of your lips, as if reminding himself that you were here, that you were his.

A loud noise from the window, followed by the distinct sound of fabric rustling, and then.

THUD.

Conner barely had time to pull back before a voice cut through the moment.

“Oh, come on I just ate.”

You both snapped your heads toward the window, where Tim stood, looking absolutely horrified, like he’d just walked in on the worst crime imaginable.

You groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Jesus Christ, Tim”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose like he was experiencing actual pain. “You know I tolerate this relationship for your sake, right? Doesn’t mean I need to see it.”

“Theres a reason we’re in my room with the door closed. what did you even want anyways”

“Ok miss shitbag, I was gonna see if you brought any food from the gala”

Conner, looking far too smug for someone just caught making out, leaned back on his hands. “You could’ve knocked.”

Tim made a disgusted face. “Knocked? On her window? I didn’t think I needed a warning before coming in.” He gestured wildly between the two of you. “I thought I was safe! But no, I have to live with the trauma of seeing my best friend all over my sister.”

You threw a pillow at him. “We weren’t even doing anything!”

Tim caught it with one hand, unimpressed. “There was face touching. That’s enough.”

Conner just shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I think she’s a better kisser than you.”

Tim immediately gagged, doubling over like he’d been physically attacked. “WHY WOULD THAT MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?!”

You burst out laughing, while Conner grinned like he’d won something.

Tim groaned dramatically, shaking his head as he turned toward the window. “I hate this. I hate both of you. I’m leaving.”

“Goodnight, Tim,” you called sweetly.

“I hope you both stub your toes,” he shot back before disappearing out the window.

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Conner, still grinning. “You did that on purpose.”

Conner smirked. “Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes before pulling him back down into another kiss because if Tim was gonna be dramatic about it, you might as well make it worth it.

Dabi x Reader | Hawks x Reader

°❀.ೃ࿔ Knowing how to Find Them °❀.ೃ࿔

teehee i have issues… my other works - masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…With him?”

“Yup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawks’ wings drooped slightly. “Y/n—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just don’t make me worry, okay?”

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

“You’re brooding.”

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

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

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

Dabi snorted. “Guess so.”

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

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

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

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

You scoffed. “He’s nosy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you defended, “he’s my friend”

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

You shrugged. “Guess I am.”

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

You shot him a grin. “How generous.”

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

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

Dabi: *so unbelievably disgusted*

love

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Geto Suguru x Reader

Gojo Satoru x Reader

────୨ৎ────

⋆˚✿˖° 2. I’ve Played these Games Before

Headcannon, the men are stupid

if you missed the last chapter and want more-> masterlist

₍^. .^₎⟆ Geto sighed, stretching his arms as he strolled toward his dorm. The study session had been useless (as expected), but at least it had been entertaining. Though, if he was being honest, the best part of the evening had been watching Gojo flail around in real-time romantic panic.

He smirked to himself. That was going to be fun to watch unfold.

Not that he cared much about the bet itself. That was just a way to mess with Gojo, to see him squirm. Nothing more.

His plan was simple he’d treat you exactly the same as always. Calm, confident, teasing. Unlike Gojo, he didn’t need to rely on some ridiculous strategy. He wasn’t about to start googling psychological tricks like a lovesick idiot.

No, he’d just make a few subtle changes. More intentional eye contact. More casual touches. More moments of quiet attention, the kind that made people feel like they were the only one in the room.

At least, that’s what he thought, until lunchtime the next day, when Gojo started getting on his nerves.

Because, of course, Gojo wasn’t capable of subtlety.

“Wow,” Gojo whistled, sliding into the seat across from you. “Look at you, already eating without me? I thought we had something special.”

You looked up mid bite, a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth. “Gojo, you were literally behind me in line.”

“Details,” he waved off, dramatically propping his chin in his hand. “But you know, I was thinking of eating alone today… until I saw you, and my heart just knew I couldn’t let that happen.”

You snorted. “Sounds rough, buddy.”

His sunglasses slid down his nose just enough for you to see his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have no idea.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking another bite of your food. Gojo watched you closely, subtly shifting in his seat. Step one—mirroring movements. You lifted your spoon, and he lazily picked up his chopsticks. You leaned forward slightly, and he mirrored the action. He was subtle about it, of course. Natural. Completely normal. Definitely not weird.

Except you paused, squinting at him.

“…Are you copying me?”

Gojo choked on air. “Wh—what? No! Pfft. I’m just sitting.”

Your grin widened. “Satoru, are you copying me?”

He waved his chopsticks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You squinted a second longer, then shrugged, going back to your food. “Mhm. Sure.”

Gojo let out a silent breath. Okay. Maybe less obvious on that one.

Right. Step two—eye contact.

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm as he gazed at you, letting his signature smirk tug at his lips. A confident, roguish expression that, historically, had driven people wild.

You, however, just blinked at him. “Are you- why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to read your mind or something.”

Gojo sighed dramatically. “I was just admiring the way the cafeteria lights shine in your eyes. Very mesmerizing. Stunning, even.”

You blinked again. “Satoru, the cafeteria lights are fluorescent.”

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Yet, somehow, you make them work.”

You just groaned, shaking your head. “You are so weird.”

He ignored the minor setback and moved to Step three—casual physical touch. Casual. Natural. Smooth. So he reached across the table and lightly flicked your forehead.

You recoiled, dramatically grabbing your head. “Ow?!”

“Oops.” He grinned. “Slipped.”

“You slipped into flicking me?”

“Crazy, right?”

You narrowed your eyes before retaliating, smacking his arm with the back of your spoon. “Oops,” you mimicked, grinning. “I slipped.”

Gojo laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, truce.” You huffed, still smiling, before turning your attention back to your food.

Step four—make them laugh.

He was already a pro at that. Easy. No problem. You weren’t in a bad mood or anything, just a little spaced out, quietly picking at your food while Geto and Shoko talked beside you. Normally, you’d be more engaged, but today, your mind just wasn’t all there.

Gojo, of course, noticed. And he could not let that slide.

“Alright, I’m making an official declaration,” he announced, leaning forward with a grin. “I’m getting her—” he pointed dramatically at you “—to laugh before lunch is over.”

Shoko didn’t even look up from her juice box. “Shouldn’t take long. Five minutes.”

“Two,” Geto said, smirking. “He’s predictable.”

You blinked at them. “Wait—what? I do laugh.”

“Not enough,” Gojo countered, watching you with exaggerated scrutiny. “Not the real, ugly, snorting kind. That’s the goal.”

“You don’t need that,” you said flatly.

“Oh, but I do.”

He leaned forward, hands clasped like he was about to deliver something profound. “Okay. Picture this. I’m fighting this cursed spirit the other day—big, ugly thing, smelled like a sewer. And it looks at me and goes, ‘Hey, aren’t you that discount Kakashi?’”

Silence.

Geto exhaled through his nose, mildly amused. Shoko just sighed. You gave Gojo a slow blink.

Gojo placed a hand on his chest, scandalized. “Nothing? That was comedy gold.”

“That was sad,” Geto corrected.

“Okay, fine, I can do better,” Gojo said, shaking it off before dramatically throwing himself against Geto’s side. “Bro, I can’t believe this. My own best friend, laughing before she does. This is a betrayal. How do I go on?”

“Quieter,” Geto muttered, shoving him off.

Gojo ignored him. “Alright, last attempt.” He turned to you, suddenly serious. “If you don’t laugh in the next ten seconds, I’m taking your dessert.”

Your head snapped up. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

And then, as if to prove he meant business, he grabbed two onigiri from Geto’s tray, wiggled them like little sock puppets, and in the most high pitched, overly dramatic voice you’d ever heard, went:

“Oh no, Gojo-sama, please spare us! We are but humble rice balls!”

He made one onigiri turn to the other. “Brother, I don’t think he’s going to show us mercy…”

The second onigiri shook dramatically. “No, we still have so much to live for! My wife, my children, who will tell them what happened to me?”

“I will, dear brother,” the first one promised solemnly. “I will tell them of your bravery!”

“No!” The second onigiri screamed (or rather, Gojo screamed for it). “You must live on! Let me be the one to—AHHH!”

And with that, Gojo chucked the onigiri into his mouth and took an exaggerated, victorious bite.

You burst out laughing. The kind of laugh you couldn’t hold in if you tried, the kind that made you lean forward onto the table, shoulders shaking as you gasped for air.

Gojo pointed at you with a mouthful of rice. “Boom. Victory.”

Shoko sighed, sipping her juice. “Took longer than I thought.”

Geto shook his head. “I’m never letting you near my food again.”

But Gojo wasn’t listening. He was too busy basking in his success, leaning toward you with a cocky grin. “Told you you couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re an idiot,” you wheezed, still catching your breath.

“And yet,” Gojo said, stealing your dessert anyway, “an idiot with perfect comedic timing.” You groaned I’m reply.

He grinned, triumphant.

Then, Step five, say their name more. “Hey, (Y/N),” he drawled, propping his chin on his hand.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Satoru?”

He blinked. “Uh.”

Damn it. He didn’t actually have anything to say. He’d just read in some stupid article that saying your name was supposed to make you subconsciously more interested in him.

“…Nothing,” he said smoothly, smiling. “Just wanted to remind you how nice your name sounds.”

You gave him a look. “Right.”

A beat of silence. Then

“Satoru,” you said, voice suspiciously sweet.

Gojo grinned. “Yeah?”

“You are being weird.”

“Me?” He placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Weird? Perish the thought.”

You just laughed, shaking your head as you finished the last of your food. “Anyway, as fun as this has been, Im a little thirsty.”

Gojo gasped. “What, you’re leaving me?”

“You’ll survive.” You smirked, standing up. “Probably.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “(Y/N), your cruelty knows no bounds.”

You just rolled your eyes but smiled. “I’ll be back I want to get a other juice Gojo”

And then you were gone, disappearing into the cafeteria crowd.Gojo sighed, dropping his head onto the table.Well. That could’ve gone better. He pulled out his phone, opening his notes app.

The Gojo Satoru Foolproof Love Plan™ (That Hopefully Works and Doesn’t End in Humiliation)

1. Mirroring movements (FAILED. TOO OBVIOUS.)

2. Eye contact (??? Unclear. Need feedback.)

3. Casual touches (Flicking? Bad idea. Find alternative.)

4. Make them laugh (SUCCESS. OBVIOUSLY.)

5. Say their name more (Awkward. Do not force it.)

6. Grand romantic gesture??? (Not yet. Too soon.)

7. Don’t mess this up. (Currently… TBD.)

Gojo sighed, locking his phone.

—

Geto watched from across the lunch table, fingers idly tapping against his drink, as Gojo leaned way too far into your space. He dropped your name into the conversation at least three times in the last minute, nudged your arm, and let out an exaggerated laugh at something you’d said, something that wasn’t that funny. Then when you got up he looked straight at gojo.

“Alright,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Are you trying to scare them away?”

Gojo shot him a look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Geto just raised an eyebrow. Gojo’s eye twitched slightly. Shoko, who had been watching this unfold with the air of someone witnessing a tragic yet hilarious accident, snorted. “You’re overdoing it,” she told Gojo.

“No, I’m not” Gojo started, then cut himself off, visibly forcing himself to look less desperate. He leaned back, feigning ease. “I mean, pfft. No way. This is all natural.”

Geto exhaled slowly, leveling Gojo with a knowing look.

Because here was the thing, Gojo wasn’t bad at this. He was naturally charismatic. He could be smooth. But when he actually cared about something? When it actually mattered?

He became a disaster, it was obvious that this mattered. Which meant Geto had the upper hand for now. He allowed himself a small smirk before turning back to you as you came back. Unlike Gojo, he wouldn’t trip over himself. He wouldn’t force it. He’d just let things fall into place.

This was going to be easy.

Except.

As lunch went on, Geto noticed something.

At first, Gojo’s fumbling had been amusing. Watching the ever-confident Satoru practically trip over his own feet was undeniably entertaining. But the longer Geto watched, the more he started to realize why Gojo was messing up so badly. Because Gojo flirted all the time. He teased, he charmed half the jujitsu world was wrapped around his finger without him even trying.

Gojo actually liked you.

The thought settled like a weight in Geto’s chest. His fingers tapped idly against the table.

He glanced at you. You were laughing, completely oblivious to the quiet crisis happening across the table. And something about that sent an uncomfortable twist through his stomach.

He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was serious. He was just messing with Gojo. That’s what he’d told himself. That’s all this was.

…Right?

Then why did his gaze linger a little too long when you smiled? Why did it bother him when Gojo made you laugh first? Why did it feel like he was always second to Gojo?

Because that was how it always went, wasn’t it?

Gojo was loud, blinding, impossible to ignore. The center of attention in every room. And Geto?

He was there. A presence. A shadow. Not invisible, not overlooked but never first. watching Gojo fight for your attention, watching you react to him, laugh at him. The weight in Geto’s chest grew heavier. His grip on his drink tightened.

No.

This wasn’t about Gojo. It wasn’t about the bet. It wasn’t about proving a point. This was about you. Because he didn’t just want to win. He wanted you and for you to know he wont always come second

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat, watching as Gojo tried (and failed) to act casual.

—

“You know, (Y/n),” Gojo drawled, slinging an arm over the back of your chair like he owned the place. His fingers drummed lazily against the wood, his usual cocky smirk in place. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s a first,” you quipped without missing a beat, eyes still focused on your food as you casually poked at your meal.

Across the table, Geto exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. Shoko, perched beside him with her cigarette balanced between two fingers, barely hid her smirk as she took a slow drag.

Gojo clicked his tongue, feigning offense. “Rude. I was about to say something really profound, actually.

Finally, you glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. “Oh? Enlighten me, oh wise and powerful one.”

Gojo grinned wider, but Geto, who knew him better than anyone, noticed the way his fingers tapped just a little too quickly against the table. A nervous tic, barely noticeable. Interesting.

“Well, now I don’t want to with that attitude” Gojo continued, voice dripping with forced nonchalance. “I was just thinking, don’t you think we make a great pair?”

You blinked at him, head tilting slightly with a smirk. “A pair of what, exactly?”

For the first time since opening his mouth, Gojo hesitated. It was only for a fraction of a second, but in that brief pause, Geto could see the exact moment doubt crept into his friend’s mind.

“A pair of… cool people?” Gojo finally offered, flashing a sheepish smile, one hand adjusting his sunglasses even though they hadn’t moved.

There was a beat of silence. Shoko exhaled smoke through her nose, unimpressed. Geto took a slow sip of his drink, watching the interaction unfold with the air of a man witnessing a slow motion car crash painful, but fascinating.

Meanwhile, you squinted at Gojo, head tilting slightly, as if trying to decipher some kind of hidden meaning. “Did you just try to flirt with me by suggesting we… form a club?”

“No” Gojo started, but before he could finish, Geto decided to cut in. Because, really, this was just too good to pass up.

“Oh, I dunno,” he interjected smoothly, tilting his head slightly in your direction. His voice carried the perfect balance of amusement and intrigue, just enough to make Gojo twitch. “I think he’s onto something. You are pretty cool, after all.”

That got your attention. Your lips curled into a delighted grin as you turned to Geto. “Someone recognizes my greatness!” You placed a dramatic hand over your chest. “It’s about time.” You stick out your tongue to gojo

“Get I’m your knees and say I’m cool and you’re not ” You pointed your chopsticks at gojo,

Geto hummed, pleased with himself as he set his drink down. “I only speak the truth.”

Gojo’s eye twitched. Oh, come on.

Shoko exhaled another puff of smoke, watching the scene unfold like it was the best entertainment she’d had in weeks. This is a mess, she thought. A hilarious, glorious mess.

Gojo, meanwhile, looked like he was seconds away from combusting. He narrowed his eyes at Geto, who looked far too pleased with himself, before quickly shaking it off.

“Anyway,” Gojo cut back in, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation. He turned to you again, tapping your shoulder lightly as his grin returned. “What I meant was, you and me? We work well together, y’know? Great chemistry and all that.”

You smirk at him. “Like lab partners?”

There was a moment of silence and then Shoko choked on her drink. Geto coughed lightly, raising a fist to his mouth to cover his smirk. But internally? He was dying.

Gojo froze. His jaw clenched for just a fraction of a second before he forced a grin, his usual confidence cracking under the weight of sheer secondhand embarrassment. “Exactly like lab partners,” he said, voice painfully flat.

“Cool!” You beamed, completely oblivious to Gojo’s growing inner turmoil. “Let me know when we’re dissecting frogs, I guess.” Then you for up and ran to utahime for a moment when you see her aggressively waving you over.

Gojo groaned, flopping back in his seat like a man defeated.

Shoko wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. “This is actually painful to watch.”

“Not for me,” Geto mused, barely containing his smirk as he leaned back.

Gojo turned his head just enough to glare at him. “You suck.”

“Aw, Satoru,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Don’t be such a sore loser.”

“Losing implies I’ve lost,” Gojo shot back, sitting up with renewed determination. “And I never lose.”

Geto merely raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said smoothly, sipping his drink again. But inside, he was still thinking about the way you had laughed at his words. The way you had turned to him so easily, bright eyed and happy.

And just like that, what was supposed to be a harmless bet felt like something else entirely. Something he wasn’t willing to lose.

—

After lunch wrapped up, Gojo had been dragged away by some underclassmen pestering him for help though, judging by his exaggerated groan of suffering, you’d think they were sentencing him to life in prison. Shoko had peeled off shortly after, muttering something about a nap and waving lazily over her shoulder.

That left you and Geto.

The two of you walked side by side through the courtyard, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. It was warm but not unpleasant, with a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance.

“So,” Geto said, hands slipping casually into his pockets. “Lab partners, huh?”

You grinned, glancing up at him. “What? You don’t think me and Gojo have great chemistry?”

Geto hummed, pretending to consider it. “More like chaotic combustion.”

You laughed, nudging his arm playfully. “Okay, thats just basic math when you out us I’m a room together”

The sound of your laughter settled into Geto’s chest, warm and lingering. He’d always liked that about you how easy it was for you to find amusement in things, how naturally lighthearted you could be. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed your company so much.

He wasn’t even sure when it had started this noticing of yours. The way you smiled when you were really, genuinely happy. The way your hands moved when you talked excitedly. The way your eyes lit up when you were being playful, like they had during lunch when you had turned to him.

Yeah. He was noticing a lot more than he used to.

“You were really enjoying yourself back there,” you mused, shooting him a knowing look.

Geto smirked. “Can you blame me? Watching Gojo crash and burn is one of life’s simplest pleasures.”

You laughed again, and he found himself watching you a little too closely.

It had started as a joke. Just a bet. A way to mess with Gojo and watch him struggle for once.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

Maybe it was because you always seemed to get along with him so easily, without all the dramatics and fanfare that followed Gojo everywhere. Maybe it was because teasing you came as naturally as breathing, and you always played along. Maybe it was because, when you looked at him, it never felt like he was standing in Gojo’s shadow.

Because Geto had spent years watching people flock to Gojo first. It wasn’t something he resented, not really it was just the way things were. Gojo was loud, larger than life, the sun in the center of everyone’s orbit.

But now, as you walked beside him, smiling and laughing and completely unaware of the thoughts creeping into his head he wondered what it would be like if, just this once, he wasn’t second.

If you chose him.

“Alright, then,” you said suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts. “If Gojo and I are chaotic combustion, what kind of chemistry do we have?”

You grinned up at him, eyes bright with curiosity. Playful. Innocent. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. Because for all his usual confidence, for all his careful, patient planning, he hadn’t been expecting that.

His smirk lingered, but this time, it took a fraction of a second longer to form.

“Hmm,” he mused, tilting his head in thought. “I’d say… slow burn.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, is that a real chemistry thing or—”

“Who knows?” Geto said smoothly, flashing you a teasing smile before stepping ahead. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.”

You gaped at him. “Oh, now you’re being mysterious?”

He only laughed, glancing back over his shoulder. “What can I say? Gotta keep things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned as you jogged to catch up with him and Geto, for all his patience, was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wanted to win this more than he thought.

The neon lights of Tokyo buzzed overhead as the four of you wandered the crowded streets, blending into the after-school . It was that perfect in between time too early for the late-night crowd, but just late enough that everything felt a little more exciting.

And, as usual, Gojo was causing problems.

“You dragged us out here,” you sighed, watching Gojo pat down his pockets like he’d just realized he forgot something important. “How do you not know where we’re going?”

“I do know!” Gojo huffed, placing a hand over his heart like you’d mortally wounded him. “I’m just giving the night a sense of mystery.”

“You lost the directions, didn’t you?” Shoko deadpanned.

“Have some faith in me,” Gojo scoffed.

“I did,” Geto mused. “Then I watched you confidently lead us to a random 7-Eleven last time because you thought there was a ‘secret food market’ underground.”

Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are none of you gonna let that go?”

“No,” you, Geto, and Shoko said in unison.

Gojo grumbled under his breath, but before he could keep digging his own grave, you gestured toward a bright, bustling arcade across the street.

“Let’s just go in there,” you suggested. Pointing towards the arcade near by “Since our fearless leader clearly has no actual plan.”

Gojo perked up. “Hey! I did have a plan—”

“Oh my god, shut up and walk,” Shoko sighed, already making her way inside.

—

The place was packed, rows of flashing game screens, the constant clinking of tokens, and the occasional victorious yell from someone landing a big win. It was the kind of that was just fun enough to be energizing rather than overwhelming.

Immediately, Gojo beelined for a claw machine. “I’m winning something for you,” he declared, pointing at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you’ll win.”

Gojo grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Bold of you to underestimate me.”

“Gojo, I watched you spend 3,000 yen last time trying to win a keychain,” Geto reminded him, his voice thoroughly unimpressed.

“Okay, but this time is different,” Gojo insisted. “This time, I have motivation.”

You snorted. “Sure you do.”

Shoko rolled her eyes and wandered off to find a rhythm game, and Geto turned to you, smirking. “Wanna bet on how many tries it takes before he gives up?”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Thirty Minutes Later…

Gojo was slumped against the claw machine, forehead pressed against the glass, as the plush he had almost grabbed slipped back into the pile for what had to be the twentieth time.

“…This thing is rigged,” he muttered.

Geto, sipping his drink, hummed. “Mmm. Sure.”

You held out a hand toward him. “Pay up.”

Geto sighed but placed a few coins into your palm. “I should’ve known better.”

Shoko strolled back over, glancing at Gojo’s miserable form. “Wow. Are we gonna have to carry you out of here?”

Gojo groaned dramatically. “Leave me. I belong to the void now.”

You rolled your eyes before stepping up to the machine, slipping in a coin. “Here,” you said, gripping the controls. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Gojo peeled himself off the glass just enough to watch, skeptical. “If you win this on your first try, I’m actually gonna lose my mind.”

You maneuvered the claw, timed the drop perfectly, and…….Bam!

“Your mind better be severally lost when I turn around” you smirk while holding it out to the three of them. Then talking a look at the white haired guy.

“Here, since you worked so hard for it”

Gojo blinked. Then he stared at you. “…You’re giving it to me?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. You worked hard for it.”

Gojo expected you to rub it in, to make some smug comment about how much better you were, but you didn’t. You just… gave it to him. No teasing, no conditions. Just an easy, casual, Here, this is yours.

Something in his chest actually ached.

He took the plush from your hands, staring down at it like it was something important.

“…Wow,” he muttered, voice a little quieter than usual. “So this is what kindness feels like.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“No, no, this is a life changing moment,” Gojo insisted, holding the plush to his chest. “I feel so appreciated right now.”

Geto smirked. “You’re gonna sleep with that thing, aren’t you?”

Gojo scoffed. “Of course not.” He absolutely was.

Shoko yawned. “Can we go now, or do you need a moment to emotionally bond with the plush?”

Gojo pouted. “Let me have this.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “C’mon, Gojo.”

As the four of you made your way back outside, Gojo fell into step beside you, still clutching the plush. He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Maybe he had completely embarrassed himself tonight, but… This was definitely the best prize he’d ever won.

—

The four of you ended up at a cozy little ramen shop tucked into a side street, the kind of place with handwritten menus, warm lighting, and the rich smell of broth and grilled meats filling the air. It was nothing fancy, but it was good, one of Geto’s usual spots, which meant it was guaranteed to be great.

The ramen shop was cozy, the kind of place that felt like a well kept secret. The handwritten menus, the warm yellow glow from the hanging lanterns, the smell of rich broth and grilled skewers, it all made for a welcoming atmosphere. A place you could linger, talk, enjoy good food without pretense.

Gojo was still holding the small, plush keychain you’d won for him at the arcade earlier, absentmindedly squeezing it between his fingers as you all slid into a booth. He had insisted he didn’t need it, but you had seen the way his face lit up when you handed it to him, how he twirled it in his hands the entire walk over. He hadn’t let go of it since.

Shoko and Gojo immediately launched into a heated debate over toppings, something about whether bamboo shoots were a necessary addition or a waste of space.

You and Geto exchanged a glance. Unspoken solidarity.

“You wanna share something?” Geto’s voice was casual, smooth, as he leaned an elbow against the table, turning his full attention to you.

You blinked. “Uh"…

Gojo, mid argument with Shoko, snapped his head around so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

“What?”

Geto hummed, reaching for the menu, eyes glinting with amusement. “I was just saying we could split something.” His gaze flicked back to you, warm and steady. “Figured you’d get tired of Gojo stealing food off your plate.”

You scoffed, tilting your head in mock consideration. “That’s… actually a really good point.”

Gojo gasped, pointing an accusatory chopstick at Geto. “I do not steal—”

Shoko snorted. “You ate half my gyoza last week.”

Gojo immediately turned to her, defensive. “You weren’t gonna finish them!”

“You didn’t ask.”

Geto chuckled, nudging the menu toward you. “So? What looks good?”

You skimmed the options, feeling the weight of Geto’s gaze. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing, just waiting, watching, letting you make the decision. It was subtle, but it felt different from his usual teasing. More intentional.

Meanwhile, across the table, Gojo had gone suspiciously quiet.

He kept fidgeting with the plush you won him, his fingers idly squeezing its soft fabric. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal, so what if Geto was pulling out his smooth operator act? That’s just how he was. And it wasn’t like Gojo cared. Except… he kind of did.When the food finally arrived, the table filled with steaming bowls of ramen, plates of dumplings, and skewers of grilled meat. Gojo had ordered the biggest portion possible…partly out of habit, partly as some unspoken form of protest.

Geto slid the bowl of spicy miso ramen between the two of you. “You want the first bite?”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind—”

Before you could finish, Geto picked up a spoon, scooped up a bit of broth, and lifted it toward you

.

“Here. Try it.”

You blinked. Gojo blinked. Shoko, sipping her drink, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“…Are you feeding me?” you asked, both amused and caught off guard.

Geto smirked. “Only if you want me to.”

Gojo’s chopsticks snapped in half.

You chuckled, shaking your head before taking the spoon from Geto yourself. “I can handle it, thanks.”

Geto leaned back, looking very pleased with himself. “Fair enough.”

Gojo, meanwhile, was gripping what was left of his broken chopsticks, staring down at his ramen like he was contemplating the meaning of life.

Shoko nudged him with her elbow. “You good?”

Gojo didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

Shoko smirked. “Uh-huh.”

Gojo kept stirring his ramen. He wasn’t going to say anything because what was there to say? Geto wasn’t doing anything technically wrong. It was just his usual, effortless charm. The same charm that made people naturally gravitate toward him. But tonight, for some reason, it was getting under Gojo’s skin. He knew Geto knew how he played things, knew how easy it was for him to slip into that role. And Gojo had always been fine with that. They were best friends, partners in crime. But now? Now, watching Geto lean just a little closer, watching you smile and laugh without hesitation Gojo felt something simmering in his chest. A feeling he didn’t quite want to name.

Shoko nudged him again. “You sure? Because you’re either planning murder or having an existential crisis over there.”

Gojo exhaled, flopping dramatically against the booth. “I’m just thinking.”

Shoko’s smirk widened. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

Gojo scowled. “Nothing.”

She didn’t press, but she didn’t have to. They both knew exactly what he was thinking.

Across the table, you and Geto were still chatting, sharing your ramen without a second thought.

Gojo finally dropped his chopsticks with a dramatic sigh, flopping back against the booth. “Okay, enough about feeding each other. We get it. You guys have basic teamwork skills.”

Geto, completely unfazed, turned to him with a lazy grin. “You jealous, Satoru?”

Shoko bit back a laugh.

Gojo rolled his eyes. “Me? Jealous? Of you?” He let out a loud, exaggerated laugh before immediately turning to you. “Hey. You wanna try my ramen?”

You gave him a flat look. “Gojo, you got the most boring option on the menu.”

Gojo gasped. “Excuse me? Classic shoyu ramen is a timeless masterpiece.”

Geto chuckled, watching the exchange with amusement. “Yeah, nothing says excitement like a safe choice.”

Gojo pointed a dramatic finger at him. “I don’t need your judgment, Suguru.”

“Not jealous,” he muttered. “Just… not that hungry anymore.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

You, however, nudged his arm lightly. “Gojo, you literally ordered the biggest bowl on the menu.”

He glanced at you, blue eyes flickering with something unreadable for a second before he shrugged. “Guess my appetite’s smaller than I thought.”

Lies.

Gojo always ate like he had a bottomless pit for a stomach. But tonight, the food tasted a little bland.

Geto leaned back in his seat, watching him carefully. He didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers tapped lightly against the table made it clear he noticed the shift.

For the rest of the meal, Gojo stayed a little quieter than usual, only half-listening as you and Geto talked. He didn’t make a fuss. Didn’t push the usual playful banter. But every now and then, his gaze would flicker toward Geto, then back to you. And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, He was already too late.

Geto just smiled, relaxed and confident as ever. He didn’t need to gloat, Gojo was already riled up enough for the both of them.

Across the table, Shoko stretched her arms over her head, looking just about done with the two of them. “Alright, children. Eat your food before the shop kicks us out.”

Gojo grumbled under his breath before finally taking an actual bite of his ramen. But as he chewed, he glanced at Geto, then at you, and then back at Geto. He didn’t say anything. But in the back of his mind, he was already planning his next move.

——

The streets were quieter now, the distant hum of the city fading as the four of you made your way back to Jujutsu High. The crisp night air nipped at your skin, but the warmth of the ramen shop still clung to you, the scent of broth and grilled meat lingering in your clothes.

It should have been a perfect night. A rare one, even. Just the four of you, no missions, no training, no looming sense of responsibility. But despite the easy conversation and the comfortable rhythm of your walk, something felt… off. Or maybe different was the better word.

You weren’t sure when you started noticing it. Maybe it was back at the ramen shop, or maybe even earlier at the arcade, but the feeling had been creeping up on you all night, just subtle enough to ignore, until now.

Geto had always been smooth. Confident in a way that never felt overdone, just natural. He had a way of making things seem effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. But tonight, there was something pointed about it. The way he leaned in just a little closer, the way he found reasons to keep the conversation between just the two of you, the way his gaze lingered a second too long.

And then there was Gojo. Normally, he’d be the loudest one here, cracking jokes, making everything a competition, dragging all the attention toward himself like it was second nature. But tonight?

Tonight, he’d been different too.

Quieter. A little distant. He still teased, still complained, but there was something off about it. Like his heart wasn’t really in it.

You stole a glance back at him. He was trailing just a step behind, hands buried deep in his pockets, his usual long strides feeling slower, heavier. His shoulders were set, his jaw tight—like he was thinking too hard about something he didn’t want to say. It made something in your chest twist.

“Cold?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. Geto’s voice was low, even, pulling you back to the present.

“Huh?”

“It’s chilly,” he said, already shrugging off his jacket. “Here.”

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“Just take it.” His tone left little room for argument as he draped the jacket over your shoulders before you could protest, his fingers grazing lightly against your collarbone. Your breath hitched. Geto was always like this, thoughtful in a way that felt effortless, like he didn’t even have to think about it you try to rationalize to yourself.

“…Thanks,” you murmured, fingers instinctively curling around the fabric.

He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kept walking beside you. His pace was steady, close but not too close, just enough that your arms brushed every now and then—not quite accidental, but not completely intentional either.

It was the kind of thing you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about—if it weren’t for the way Gojo had gone completely silent behind you.

You glanced back again.

Gojo’s expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was still fidgeting with the plush keychain you’d won for him earlier, rolling it between his fingers, his grip just a little too tight. Something about the sight made your stomach sink.

“Shortcut?”

Shoko’s voice broke the tension, casual and lazy as she stretched her arms over her head.

Gojo barely hesitated. “Yeah, same.” His voice was flat.

You blinked. “Shortcut?”

Shoko gestured to a narrow side path. “Cuts the walk down. Bit of an uphill climb, but faster.”

“But it sucks,” Geto pointed out, unimpressed. “Too steep.”

She shrugged. “Worth it.” Then she turned to you and Geto, smirking. “Guess you two are taking the scenic route, huh?”

Your face immediately went warm. “That’s not—”

“Later,” she cut you off with a lazy wave, already tugging Gojo along.

You barely caught a glimpse of his face before he turned away. But for a second. Just a second. his eyes flickered toward you, something unreadable behind them. Like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

Instead, he let himself be pulled along, following Shoko without another word. Just the Two of You. The silence left in their absence felt heavier than it should have.

“Guess it’s just us,” Geto said lightly, casting a glance at you.

You huffed, still flustered. “Shoko says stuff just to mess with people, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. But… she’s usually not wrong.”

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

“What?” you blurted out, a little too quick.

Geto didn’t answer right away. He just smiled to himself, looking ahead like he knew something you didn’t. Your thoughts tangled together, a mess of contradictions. Gojo had been off tonight. And Geto was acting just different enough that you couldn’t ignore it.

It made something in your chest tighten. They were your friends. You weren’t supposed to overthink things like this. But something was changing. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps filled the silence between you. The campus was still a ways off, the path stretching ahead of you under the glow of streetlights. “…Did you have fun tonight?” Geto’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing edge.

You hesitated. “…Yeah. Did you?”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “More than I expected to.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your pulse jump.

You looked away, focusing on the ground ahead of you. “…You want this back?” you asked, shifting under the weight of his jacket.

He shook his head easily. “Nah. Looks better on you.”

Your face felt warm despite the cool air.

“So,” Geto broke the quiet, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “You really gonna make me carry this whole conversation by myself?”

You shot him a look. “You’re the one who insists on talking all the time.”

He grinned. “Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”

You scoffed. “Oh, right. Because I’m just so boring.”

“Didn’t say that.” His tone was teasing, but his gaze flickered over to you with something unreadable. “Just quiet.”

You huffed. “I can be fun.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, intrigued. “Prove it.”

You squinted at him. “What, you want me to juggle or something?”

“That’d be a start.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Uh… okay, did I ever tell you about the time I completely humiliated myself in front of Mei Mei?”

His eyes lit up. “No, but I already know this is gonna be good.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “It was awful. I was helping her carry some stuff, right? Trying to be useful. But I tripped on absolutely nothing, flailed like a total idiot, and somehow managed to launch her entire stack of training manuals across the courtyard.”

Geto let out a loud laugh. “No way.”

“Oh, it gets worse. Instead of, I don’t know, getting up with some dignity, I just laid there for a second. Mei Mei didn’t even say anything, she just stared at me like she was trying to figure out if I was a lost cause.”

“That sounds like her.”

“I still don’t know if she was more disappointed or just impressed by how thoroughly I managed to embarrass myself.”

Geto was still grinning. “That’s beautiful. I wish I’d been there.”

“See? I am fun,” you said triumphantly.

He hummed, tilting his head in consideration. “I don’t know. That sounds less like ‘fun’ and more like ‘chronic bad luck.’”

You smacked his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

He just laughed, rubbing the spot like you’d actually hurt him. “Okay, okay. You win. You’re fun.”

“Damn right I am.”

You were both smiling now, the warmth of the moment making the chilly night air feel insignificant.

“…You should laugh more,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter.

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

He shrugged, looking ahead. “Just saying. It suits you.”

Your stomach flipped again, but this time, you didn’t push the feeling away.

Instead, you just shook your head with a soft chuckle. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

“Not a chance.” He flashed you a grin, his steps falling just a little closer to yours.

The rest of the walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just charged in a way you weren’t used to.

By the time you reached the school gates, your thoughts were a mess.

The weight of Geto’s jacket still lingered on your shoulders.

somewhere in the back of your mind, Gojo’s silence stuck with you in a way you didn’t quite understand.Something was changing and you had no idea what to do about it.

The school grounds were quiet at this hour, the faint hum of the cicadas in the trees the only sound filling the night air. Most of the students had long since gone to sleep, the dorms dark and still, but you and Geto lingered by the entrance, neither of you quite ready to part ways just yet.

You shifted the jacket draped over your shoulders, acutely aware of its warmth, of the faint scent of Geto’s cologne still clinging to the fabric.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Geto’s voice broke the silence, amused.

You blinked, glancing at him. “Huh?”

He smirked. “You get this little crease in your brow when you’re overthinking something.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I do not.”

“You do,” he insisted, tapping a finger to your forehead in demonstration. “Right here. Deep in thought. Probably overanalyzing everything that happened tonight.”

Your stomach flipped.

You were overthinking it. Overthinking him. Overthinking Gojo, and the weird tension that had lingered between the three of you all night. Geto must have noticed the way your expression shifted, because his smirk softened.

“…You good?” he asked, quieter now.

You hesitated.

You could play it off, pretend everything was fine. But part of you, maybe the part still rattled by the way tonight felt different, didn’t want to.

“…Do you think Gojo’s mad at me?” The words slipped out before you could second guess

them. Geto’s expression didn’t change, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

“No,” he said simply.

You frowned. “Then why was he acting so weird?”

Geto exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.”

You huffed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give you,” Geto said, looking at you now, gaze steady. “Whatever’s going on with Gojo, it’s not my place to say.”

That definitely meant something.

You stared at him, searching for some kind of hint, but Geto just smiled, unreadable as ever.

Before you could press further, a voice cut through the quiet.

“You guys are still out here?”

You turned, and there he was Gojo, standing a few feet away, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his uniform. He must have circled back at some point, because Shoko was nowhere to be seen.

For a split second, his gaze flickered to the jacket on your shoulders. His fingers tightened around the plush keychain in his hand.

“…You took a while ?” he asked, voice light, but there was something off about it.

You swallowed. “Uh. No. We just walked and talked.”

Gojo nodded, like that answer was expected, but the sharp edge in his expression didn’t ease.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” you said, attempting to ignore the strange tension between the three of you.

Gojo just shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, well. I was gonna be real mad if you got kidnapped before I had the chance to make fun of you tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes. “Touching.”

But there was something about the way he said it that made your chest feel tight.

The three of you stood there for a moment, the silence thick between you and then Geto, ever the smooth one, clapped his hands together. “Well. It’s late,” he said easily. “We should probably get inside before Yaga yells at us.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Gojo said nothing. Geto turned toward the dorms, his stride unhurried. But just before he walked past Gojo, he slowed just enough to murmur something under his breath.

You didn’t catch it. But whatever it was made Gojo’s jaw tighten. You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. You could feel whatever was happening here, unspoken and heavy, and it made something in you twist.

“…Night,” you said finally, the weight of the day settling over you.

Geto smiled, easy and warm. “Night.”

Gojo just nodded, but his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure what to make of that. As you finally turned to head inside, the weight of Geto’s jacket still on your shoulders, you had the distinct feeling that tonight had changed something.

.

.

Geto: I like your laugh😽

You: Chat is this rizz !?!

Geto: you just ruined it

Geto: we were having a moment

You: Chat am I cooked?

Geto: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TOO RIGHT NOW

You: chat clip that

.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

.

Gojo: can i try rizzing you up

You: sure

Gojo : PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

.

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